by Michael Todd
Damian sat and sipped his tea. “You, wild and exciting? I imagined more pies in the oven and hugs.”
Catherine snorted and looked away, a smirk on her face. Rose slapped her leg. “Well, I guess I should come out and say it. I have a little secret.”
He glanced at her daughter with a smile. “Really? Well, let’s hear it then. I love secrets.”
Rose half-glared at Catherine, who tried to hide a smirk. With a slight flash of red in her eyes, she balanced her teacup in her lap and spoke quickly. “Simply put, I used to fight demons.”
Damian pulled the teacup from his lips as his smile faded and was replaced by a look of slight confusion. “I’m sorry, Rose. It sounded like you said you used to fight demons.”
She nodded. “I did. Long before mercenaries became a commonplace thing or were even accepted by the powers that be, I worked in the background with the church. I guess you could call it black ops of sorts, but on a religious level. Of course, it was nothing like the mercenaries of today with all the guns and training facilities and such, but I could hold my own.”
He laughed, a little startled, but managed to cut it off. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I’m merely surprised. Now, is this why the church was so adamant about protecting you?”
Rose tapped her nose and set her cup and saucer on the side table. “Precisely. They protected me from being killed, exorcised, or anything close to that. Exorcism, mostly, because they knew I had a chance of dying which increased as the years passed. My demon has kept me looking and acting far younger than I really am.”
Damian’s eyes shifted to Catherine and back to her. “I didn’t even think of that. Catherine is your daughter, which puts her about my age. Were my parents still alive, they would be in their mid-seventies, but Rose, you don’t look much older than say sixty or so.”
She smirked. “You flatter me. I’m ninety-eight years old, ninety-nine in three months.”
Max’s mouth fell open, and he forced it shut. “But why would the church keep you from dying?”
Rose took a deep breath. “The things in my brain—the memories, the knowledge—could be very harmful in the wrong hands. They had to make sure I was comfortable and understood.”
Max wrinkled his forehead. “You mean in the demon’s hands?”
“Mhmm. And the angels too. One day, you will learn that not all bad entities are bad for us. And at the same time, not all that is deemed good has our individual interest at heart. There has to be a balance.”
Damian’s gaze shifted to the fire. “Ying and Yang.”
The old lady smiled. “Yes. Ying and Yang. One of the biggest faults of the high-powered demons and those that use faith as a crutch for power is that they cannot see the necessity for balance. Without it, we would surely expire.”
Chapter Thirteen
Max leaned down and kissed Rose on the cheek. “I can’t wait to get back and try your cupcakes. Thank you. I merely want to get these errands run early because I know Damian and I have things to do this afternoon.”
She patted his cheek. “Be careful out there.”
He nodded at Catherine and waved at his mentor before he shrugged into his coat and headed out the door. Damian refilled their teacups and sat, holding his in his lap. “So, let me ask you this question. If you had all this knowledge and an understanding of the inner workings of the human-demon relationship, that made you somewhat of an enemy to the church, didn’t it?”
Rose’s shoulders vibrated as she giggled. “I don’t think you would call it an enemy, per se. But it definitely was a love-hate relationship, to say the least. I knew things about the church and the members that could have been extremely damaging to them.”
“Only our church?” Damian asked.
She scoffed. “No. Of course not. The idea that there are different types of Christianity is laughable—at least it is now that I know what I know. Everyone dipped their toes in the water. The Catholics, Protestants, Methodists, us, you name it. They were all involved.”
Damian shook his head. “Fascinating. Very fascinating. Then how did you get out of it all without someone…well, taking you out?”
“Grace,” she said pointedly. “In the form of an angel I think you’ve met once.”
“Gabriel,” he whispered.
“Mhmm.” She nodded. “That’s the one. He has visited me since I was a young eighteen-year-old and signed up to kick demon butt. He is the one who ordered my protection through the church and threatened Lucifer with punishment if I were to die at the hands of a demon. In fact, he paid me a lovely visit last night.”
Damian sat bolt upright in his chair. “He did?”
Rose waved to Catherine. “Could you be a dear and get that envelope out of my purse?”
“Of course,” her daughter replied and hurried to comply. She handed it to her mother.
Rose held the envelope out to Damian, who stood and took it from her. “Read that in the sanctuary of this house tonight.”
He nodded and slid it into the breast pocket of his coat. “Of course.”
The old lady dragged in a deep breath and focused on the fire. “The cycle must end, Damian.” Her gaze shifted to him. “And you must be the one to end it.”
Damian and Max exited the SUV parked in the one-way alley between the buildings. They hurried to Maps’ door and knocked, and a few seconds later, her boots clomped noisily on the other side. The locks disengaged noisily and she opened the door, her head down. “Come in.”
They moved past her and exchanged a curious look. She stuck her head out the door and glanced around before she closed the door and locked it decisively. They followed her as she hurried back to her work area.
Damian studied her and realized that she moved slightly slumped over and didn’t offer her normal friendly greeting. “We came to pick up the blueprints and other documents I called you about.”
Maps nodded and shoved papers around on her desk. “Yes, yes. I have them ready. I just have to find the packet.”
Max scooted closer to Damian, leaned toward him, and whispered, “She is acting very odd.”
He breathed deeply and shook his head. “I know.”
She pushed her dark sunglasses up as if determined to keep them in place even inside the darkened room. In general, she was extremely quiet and reserved and seemed to hurry as if she wanted them in and out. Max backed up and knocked something off the shelf. Maps jumped, looked around, and frowned at him. She was definitely on edge, something neither of them had ever seen in her before.
Damian cleared his throat and wandered the room nonchalantly. “You seem a little out of the ordinary today, Maps. Is everything all right?”
The woman merely wiped her nose and made no effort to look at him. She was silent for several moments and her hands no longer searched. It was as if she wanted to tell him something, but she fought an internal battle over it. Her phone beeped and dragged her out of that place.
She retrieved a thick manila envelope from under a stack of other papers. “I’m fine. I have a major hangover, that’s all. I was at this wild rager last night and haven’t been to bed yet. Here you go.”
He took the papers and she snatched her hand back quickly and rubbed it against her body. Careful to keep his concern from his face, he slid an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. “There is a bonus in there as well. Thank you for doing this last-second.”
Maps nodded, her head still down, and he noticed that her hair was extra oily. Damian nodded to Max, who started for the door. He came back and forced a hug onto her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She tensed, but after a moment, she relaxed. He frowned as he rested his chin on the top of her head. She was cold, and a strange sensation radiated from her.
Suddenly she pulled back, pulled her sweater tightly around her, and turned away. He scratched his chin, searching for the right words. “If you need anything, let us know. Anything. I mean it.”
She followed him to the door and locked it quick
ly behind him before she exhaled a long, deep breath. Her eyes fluttered as she took off her glasses and let them adjust to the lighting. She hurried back through her apartment and shut and locked the door between the entry hall and her work area.
Maps struck a match and lit the white candles all around the room one by one. She mumbled to herself, “Protect me. I feel it. Please protect me.”
When all were lit, she stopped, her cheeks sunken and the bags under her eyes dark. The match almost burned her fingers, and she blew it out and tossed it on one of the plates that held the candles. For a moment, she stood there at her long table and looked at all the things in her space. Everything was meaningless at that point; merely things she had collected over the years when she thought that being in the know would keep her safe.
Shaking her head, Maps sat at her desk, cracked her knuckles, and grabbed the beer next to her screen to take a long sip. She smacked her lips, set it down, and pulled a drawer open to extract a white leather-bound journal. A key on a piece of twine hung around her neck so it was hidden inside her shirt opened a lock on the front.
With a long sigh, she located a pen and began to write. She started slowly but began to push faster and faster. The paper she wrote on sparkled like the card from the restaurant and as she finished a line, it disappeared into the paper. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she wrote, but a steady stream of deep breaths kept them at bay, at least for that moment.
When she was done, she flipped to the front and read the inscription on the cover for the millionth time.
In this journey, you will sacrifice much, possibly even your life. But know that He is always there for you and I am always watching.
-Gabriel.”
She ran her fingers over the words, closed her eyes, and allowed a couple of tears that had formed to spill over her cheeks. A crackling sound echoed from the other room and she raised her head and turned with short jerky movements. A quick glance at the door confirmed flashes of light. She knew what it was—something she had feared for a very long time. A portal from hell.
Her hands trembled and she fought to hold back a whimper that clawed at her throat. Her heart thudded rapidly, and she smacked the sides of her head. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
The floor creaked beneath the feet of whatever or whomever had emerged from the portal and caught her attention again. She wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve and tried to calm herself enough to be able to think. Her hand grazed over the journal and she jumped. Quickly, she closed the book and locked it before she threw it in her drawer and latched that as well.
Clawed footsteps rasped and the door between the rooms flew open and smacked against the wall. Maps swiveled in her chair as the large figure slammed the door behind him. Her voice shook with real terror. “Please, please, don’t!”
A loud echoing scream filled the room, muffled from the outside world by the protections of the beast that came to pay her a visit.
Max yawned and stretched his arms out to the side. “Did you like the pie? They said it was the best lemon meringue in London.”
Damian finished the last bite. “I would have to agree. Thank you for that.”
The trainee stood and grabbed his plate and Damian’s. “I’m going to hit the hay. I’m exhausted and headed for my second sugar crash—first from the cupcakes and now the pie. I’m pretty sure my demon has already passed out. He’s been incredibly quiet.”
Ravi spoke quickly. No, I’m not asleep as well. Nice try. Better luck next time.
Damian smirked. “All right. Have a good night’s rest. We never know around here what the next day will bring.”
Seated quietly in his chair by the fire, the priest watched as Max put the plates in the sink, headed to his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. Once he was sure he was alone for the night, he drew the envelope from Rose out of his breast pocket and opened the front flap. It had not been opened before, and the paper was similar to the card left at the restaurant. With the thickness of it, though, he hoped it wasn’t the heat-regulated ink. He wasn’t that fast a reader.
He removed the tri-folded papers, opened them, and ran his fingers over the print. As he read, a smile moved over his lips. It wasn’t a smile of happiness or comfort, however, but of something else—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Ravi, on the other hand, had an entirely different reaction to the situation.
She huffed like she had done so many times when she felt she wasn’t being heard. I don’t know why there is a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. This shit is dangerous. I’m not talking incursion dangerous, but really life-threatening dangerous.
Damian looked up from the papers. I know you don’t like the danger part of all of this. I get it. I don’t like that part either. But this is my life, Ravi. It has always been and will probably be until my last breath or the withdrawal of demons from this earth. I have a feeling the last breath will come before the other.
The demon scoffed. Not if I have anything to do with it. You’ll be six hundred, rolling around with a white beard like Gandalf and a fucking walking stick. I simply don’t understand why you always have to be in danger. It is a constant and I have to admit, it is a little annoying at times.
Damian put the papers in his lap and linked his fingers together. Let me tell you something about me. I know I don’t share much, but it’s not personal.
It feels personal, she grumped.
Well, it’s not. Ever since I was a little boy, I knew I was meant for greater things. I wasn’t sure what they were, and I wasn’t sure where it would lead me, but that knowledge, that knowing, pulsed in my chest.
He picked the papers up, which contained instructions written by Gabriel himself. This letter says it all.
Damian,
You have been watched, studied, and protected since you were only a child. There is a special light in your soul placed there by the Creator of All. You have been on course toward something large and important for a very long time, and this is what it has all built up to. Every fear, drop of sweat, dab of blood, and tear has built you to this point. When you are notified, you are to go to the three Wise Men and exorcise them. If they cannot be relieved of their demons due to the circumstances, their lives will be forfeit at the hands of the righteous. Take your student, who is already growing out of the educated mindset and into the free warrior. He will play a vital role in all of it as it is his destiny as well.
Let your demon, your heart, and your connection to Him guide you in the right direction. There will always be a shining beacon of hope for you as your heart is pure and true.
Your Warrior Brother in Arcadia,
Gabriel
The other papers, he realized as he flipped through, were not merely instructions but inspirations. They were the very fabric that humanity was created upon. Pictures, quotes, and a steady stream of energy that flowed into his veins as he held them. The very last page had one single line written across the center of the picture. It wavered on the page as if it floated in a pond.
Damian read it out loud. “With the successful culmination of the mission, the past world will be revealed and the chain of terror that has existed for centuries will finally come to an end.”
Chapter Fourteen
Damian held the phone to his ear and listened to it ring over and over again. The voicemail picked up and Maps’ former wild and liberated tone spoke through the speaker. “Obviously, I am not in the mood to talk to you, or I’m too busy because let’s face it, I’m a big deal. If you feel this is that important, which it probably isn’t…leave a message and tell me how to contact you. If I find it worthy, I’ll call you back.”
He hung up before it beeped and recalled how strangely she had acted the day before. Max sipped his coffee and picked at the bacon on his plate. “No answer?”
The priest glanced at him as he set the phone on the table. “No. I’m sure everything is fine, though. She is probably still sleeping after whatever party she got into.”
/> Max faked a chuckle to hide his worry for her. “Yeah, I don’t know how they do it. I would be tired of being tired.”
Damian smiled. “You never know, you could be the party king of them all. Although I doubt you would have a following after drunkenly telling someone how the stone was laid when making the Basilica.”
The trainee smirked and chewed his piece of bacon. “I haven’t seen Rose since she was at the house.”
“Yeah, she probably has had enough of sweeping the porch.”
At that moment, the door to her house opened and Catherine emerged, holding her mug of tea with both hands. She waved at them and shut the door before she wandered over and sat at the patio table. “A beautiful morning, isn’t it? It’s really starting to feel like spring will eventually find us. Although I know that means more rain, but that’s London.”
She glanced at Max who grinned at her, then patted his hand. “How are you feeling, dear? You look much better than you did a couple of days ago.”
He puffed his chest out and tapped himself in the ribs. “Pretty good. My demon helped me heal up well. And the cuts are all gone. Not too bad after the battle we had.”
Max went on to describe the whole scenario where he tumbled down the steps and burst through the side window of the house. Catherine listened with wide eyes as she stole a piece of his bacon. Astaroth groaned. I know you love telling your warrior story, but can’t you see you are being a complete cock-block right now?
Cock-block? His gaze slid over to Damian. Uh, if you hadn’t noticed, Damian is a priest too. He lives a celibate life.
Yeah, I get that, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a nice conversation with a beautiful woman his age every now and then, Astaroth explained.
He pursed his lips. I don’t think you’re right.
Just wait. Watch them interact, Astaroth replied and chuckled.
Max leaned back in his chair as Catherine turned her attention to Damian. She complimented his shirt and ran her fingers down the sleeve. The priest’s face was kind, but he could see the ever-loving twinkle in his fucking eyes. Maybe that means I shouldn’t leave. You know, we priests having each other’s backs.
