by Hunter Blain
“You’re suggesting we set up a trap?” I asked, crossing my arms while placing one of my hands on my chin.
“That was the original plan,” Depweg reaffirmed.
“Dis is my department,” Ludvig said confidently as he stepped forward.
“Sa-weet. We are gonna catch us a warlock!” Magni exclaimed, setting his handheld console on the coffee table and rushing to stand next to his master.
“Hell yes, we are,” I rumbled with a mischievous smile.
14
The group had discussed how to kill the warlock earlier, but now the plan had been slightly altered. Using the groundwork for the ideas we had previously worked on, Ludvig laid out the advanced details, making changes and issuing orders based on our particular skill sets. When we were all satisfied and had verbally rehearsed our specific steps a few times, we began gathering all our needed gear.
Locke’s phone rang and he stood up straight as he saw who it was.
“What?” I asked, noting his stance.
“Father Thomes,” he informed.
“Put him on speaker.”
Locke answered and held his hand out as Depweg and I gathered around it.
“Hey-hey, Papa T!” I said jovially, as if doing so wouldn’t let the fact he was calling Locke sink in.
“John! Can you hear me?” Father Thomes loudly whispered. “I-I tried calling you and Jonathan first.”
“My phone is dusted and Depweg’s is…” I looked at Depweg, who pressed the power button. “Well, it was powered off while he was talking to you,” I told Father Thomes while giving Depweg a glaring look. It melted immediately as I understood that his mind hadn’t been in the right place during his walk home.
“It’s Ulric! He’s escaped! I-I think he’s after me,” he harshly whispered as if trying to hide and speak, his emotions granting unwanted strength to the words.
I felt like I was in a horror movie where the camera zooms in on the character while simultaneously making the background expand outward in what’s known as a vertigo shot. Inside my head, an orchestra of violins started playing random notes while slowly inching up the fingerboard, providing a cacophony of eerie dissonance.
“Can’t you stop him?” Depweg asked eagerly, leaning toward the phone.
“No. I’m not strong enough any longer.”
“Shit,” Depweg and I said in unison while Locke looked down, shaking his head.
“I’ll be right there! I can stop him,” I informed the group. “The rest of you carry on with the plan. I have a feeling we don’t have long.”
“You’re kind of an integral part of the plan, John,” Locke countered. I ignored him as I took powerful long steps toward the exit.
As I went through the door, I sprinted up the forty feet of steps in a blur and was outside in maybe one second flat. Or I would have been had I not had to wait for the damn marble door to open, which I HAD NEVER NOTICED TOOK FOREVER! Outside the mausoleum, I ran at blinding speeds as I willed my bloodwings to manifest. When they were ready, I took bounding steps before leaping into the sky where my wings unfurled at the crest of my jump. I soared toward the church, passing over Val’s, assessing the damage the fireball had done. I was relieved to find the devastation was minimal, having taken the brunt of the attack on the chin. Well, and shooting at that bastard, Silver.
A glimmer of hope glinted in my mind, and I searched all around for Silver’s body. Maybe I had already taken him out! But, alas, my searching eyes found nothing. Sighing, I let my eyes look at the horizon where the church was.
Further down the street were flashing lights where several fire trucks had apparently moved down the road and were fighting the remnants of the fire that had spread. A relatively small sphere of pride tried to grow in my chest at having saved so many from the hellfire, only to be crushed by the understanding that I had almost killed them, and more, with my death.
The church came into view, and I saw construction workers standing in the grass looking in. Scaffolding had been created around the exterior already, further impressing me with SAC Baker’s efficiency. I noticed the men were huddled together and seemed to be animatedly discussing something. One man punched the air with his index finger while pointing at the church.
Not wanting to land and go through the front door, I decided now was just as good a time as any to burst through the roof. I was sure the old thing was going to be replaced anyway. Plus, the element of surprise would be on my side if Ulric was still inside.
In a classic Batman move, I exploded through one of the grime-coated stained glass windows, moving so fast as to nearly break the sound barrier, and spread out my wings as I came into the cathedral. Glass shattered on the pews below.
“FATHER!” I bellowed, both in search of my friend and in challenge to Ulric. I was confident he stood no chance against me.
“Down here,” a distant, weak voice called from downstairs.
I retracted my wings back into my body and blurred down the steps in a fraction of a second, stopping at the bottom of the spiraling staircase. I noticed an organized pile of construction and cleaning equipment in a corner. Ulric’s door was off its track, a hammer and screwdriver resting on the floor nearby. A disfigured husk of a body wearing a reflective vest and yellow hard hat lay crumpled on the ground. He had been completely drained.
My eyes shot to where I heard some rustling, and I blurred to the sitting room where I saw Father Thomes lying on the floor, struggling to get up. As I stopped, wind from my preternatural movement blew the large tome resting on the nightstand onto the floor with a flurry of flapping pages. Ash from the fireplace rushed out in a whirlwind, coating the room in a thin layer of white.
Pain stabbed at my heart as I realized that Father Thomes was so weak that even the simple task of getting to his feet had become impossible. It was just as I had envisioned earlier.
“Lilith, am I going to have to get you a Life Alert necklace?” I jested with pained enthusiasm, extending a hand to my mortal friend. He grasped it and I gently pulled him to his feet, careful to not rip or tear any joints. “I’m assuming he’s gone?”
“Yes to both questions,” the father said before letting his eyes drop to my feet. “Why are you wearing silk clothes? And where are your boots?”
“Because I’m fabulous, and I gave my boots to a homeless man. Now, what happened here?” I asked, already piecing the puzzle together but wanting a definite answer.
“The workers began restoring the property, and I guess one poor, unfortunate soul removed Ulric’s door, though I can’t imagine why.”
“I did tell Special Agent in Charge Collin Baker to give you the works. Guess no one told him about the one room they needed to stay out of.”
“I suppose we are both to blame, then. I fell asleep and didn’t even hear them start.”
I looked at the big reading chair that faced the fire and understood that the workers hadn’t seen Father Thomes’ small frame asleep in the chair. Leaning down, I picked up the tome that was now coated in ash and set it back on the table for him.
“I’m not worried about him right now. I can stop him anytime without problem.”
“Wasn’t it hubris that was his downfall on your last encounter? Don’t fall for the sin of pride, my son.”
“Dang, you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
“Hey, isn’t that hubris?” I joked. Father Thomes glared at me with only a quarter of sincerity. “Why didn’t he kill you?”
“I don’t think he saw me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I admitted before asking, “If he didn’t attack you, then why were you on the ground?”
“He must have heard you coming because he suddenly ran up the stairs just before you called out my name. I stood up so quickly that my hip gave out and I fell to the ground.”
“Don’t suppose I can convince you to chug some of Doc Jim’s super special sauce.”
“I didn’t permanently hurt anything, merely strai
ned my muscles.”
I squeezed his arm playfully while going, “Squeak, squeak,” and was startled to get a handful of bone. Thomes looked at me with an expression that said, “What were you expecting?”
I faked a reassuring smile. “I’ll have Locke get you something that connects directly to me. That way you can press it if you fall again,” I said somberly.
“You mean like a device I can press some buttons on and it—oh, I don’t know—sends some sort of signal directly to you?” Father Thomes said with a hint of sarcasm, though he wasn’t as good at it as I was.
“Ye-yeah,” I answered, arching an eyebrow. He looked at me expectantly, and I returned the gesture, awaiting the punch line.
Pulling out an ancient flip phone from his breast pocket, he said, “Like a cell phone, John?” He had a tone that suggested he wanted to smack his forehead and run his palm down his face.
“Oh, right. Duh,” I said with a forced chuckle. “How does a freaking flip phone work on today’s network?” I asked while my gaze shifted to where I had squeezed him. Man, feeling how frail his arm was really reverberated down to my core. Depweg was right: Father Thomes wasn’t going to be around for much longer.
“They make them special for us old folks,” Father Thomes said with a half-smile.
“Thomes, can you make me a promise?” I asked somberly.
Father Philseep looked at me, recognizing that I hadn’t called him Father or Papa like normal.
“What is it, John?”
“I need you to live five years and one day. Help me make sure I don’t cause the apocalypse like Tez, Tecla…Tez-cat-polka or whatever says.”
“Oh, you were being literal when you said five years earlier?”
“Yeah. I thought it was odd, but at this point, nothing surprises me. Plus, it would have been a crappy prophecy if I had met the Aztec god at some uneven number, right? Heh,” I mimicked the god with a crappy accent, “In precisely four years, three months, twenty-eight days, and a partridge in a pear tree.”
“I suppose it does create the sense of theatrics that you do so enjoy.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed before a thought shot across my mind. “Oh, Father, check this out: I died and went to Heaven!”
Father Thomes did a double-take and stuttered, “I’m sorry? Can you repeat that?”
“Yeah! I kinda sacrificed myself to save a portion of Houston and its inhabitants, and went to Heaven. I saw my parents! My mom gave me this!” I exclaimed, pulling off my gray beanie and holding it out in front of me. I pulled a little hard and my hair spilled over my face, prompting a quick blast of air from my mouth to knock some out of my eyes. It lifted and fell right back into place.
“The thread is celestial gold!” Father Thomes appraised the beanie by bringing it almost comically close to his face to inspect. “The gray cloth is like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“I assume it’s the same stuff they use to make the angels’ robes or something.”
“Probably right,” Father Thomes admitted after handing my angel hat back to me.
After showing off my new treasure, I slipped the beanie back on, defeating my disobedient hair once again. I could almost hear the black strands yelling, “Curses!” while shaking a fist in the air.
Father Thomes thought for a long moment, as if choosing his words carefully. After enough time had passed as to transition from thoughtful to uncomfortable, he spoke. “As happy as I am for you to have seen your parents, I am concerned about that part where you died, John.”
“Right. But I wasn’t fully dead, though. My brain, like, only kinda boiled—a little bit—while the rest of me burned up like that tissue paper you put with gift bags, I forget what they’re called.”
“Forgive me for asking, but I must be forward with you,” Father Thomes started slowly, assessing each word chosen judiciously.
“Oh boy, I’m not gonna like this, am I?” I asked rhetorically while preparing my butt for the chewing that was about to be promptly delivered.
“With the knowledge that you will ascend to Heaven—which you deserve, mind you—do you think you will be…how do I put this…less careful in your future missions?” He stared at me, looking for even the slightest hint of a lie or self-doubt.
“No, not at all, Father,” I answered, looking him square in the eyes. “If anything, now I’m more resolved to keep all of creation from imploding, or exploding…any ploding. My parents are waiting for me in Heaven, and I can’t let them down.”
“I suppose that will have to suffice,” he said, not fully convinced.
“Hey,” I started, a little more harshly than intended, “I’m not going to let my folks down, alright?”
“Alright, John. I believe you.”
“Good. Now, what are you going to do if Ulric comes back?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. What would you suggest?”
“You can stay with us,” I suggested.
“Forgive me, my son, but how did it work out for your roommates the last time Ulric was on the loose?” he countered.
“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. But surely he wouldn’t come around my home again. If I were him, I’d flee to somewhere remote and lie low. Though I imagine his first order of business will be to accumulate strength.”
“Though I’m already sure of what the answer will be, I must ask, how will he do that?”
“By eating as many mortals as he can.”
“That’s going to be a problem. We must prevent him from hurting the innocent.”
“I hate to be a buzzkill, but why is it such a big deal?”
“Ulric was under our watch, and as such, is our responsibility. For every soul he consumes, their deaths will stain our hands.”
“Ah, shit! And I just got into Heaven!” I burst out with an explosive sigh. “Wait, why would it stain my hands?”
“All it takes for the triumph of evil—”
“Is for good men to do nothing. Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it,” I interrupted him, thinking of Val saying those very words. Damn holy men, making me feel all guilty and whatnot. “Fine. I’ll stop him. But first things first; we need to kill this warlock doody-head.”
“Are you sure it can wait?” Father Thomes asked. There was a hidden message in his words that I picked up on.
“Father, you can’t be worried about your soul, right? I mean, you’re a freaking priest! There’ll be a red carpet rolled out for your arrival, I bet.”
“I’m standing on the ledge of eternity with one foot poised over the abyss. You’ll forgive me if in my final moments on Earth I tread carefully and take every reasonable precaution.”
I was rocked back as his words penetrated my ears and settled in my heart. It unnerved me how worried my mortal friend was about his soul, even though there was no way he would possibly end up anywhere but Heaven. Heck, if I could do it, anyone could.
“Ar-are you feeling alright? You don’t seem yourself,” I asked, searching his eyes.
Father Thomes seemed to realize the direction of our conversation and nodded his head once, regaining his composure.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking. Now then, go stop the warlock and come back here so we can prepare our next move.”
“You bet!” I said, perking up. “Oh, but first, I need to call SAC Baker and tell him about Ulric. I get the distinct impression that they have the ability to kill supes, and I don’t want some sharpshooter to inadvertently start Armageddon.”
“Or advertently,” Father Thomes countered in warning.
“Hmm? What, you think the government would intentionally start the apocalypse?”
“What I am saying is there have always been men in power throughout history who have done horrific deeds because they thought they could control the outcome.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“If I told you that, say, the Americans or Russians wanted to nuke Hell in an effort to alleviate the world of its sins, would you be surprised?”
&nbs
p; “I, ah, I don’t think I would,” I admitted. “Question, though: would it?”
“By asking the question you are proving my point. And the answer is no, John. Lucifer is not responsible for our sins. They are ours and ours alone. Mankind is so desperate to find a scapegoat for their actions that they blame the Devil for convincing them to cheat on their spouse or steal from their place of employment. I’ve heard it all. No, the simple fact is mankind refuses to own up to their own actions and accept that they are weak. Think about it. Lucifer is the most powerful angel in all of creation and was tasked with running Hell for an eternity with scores of sinners flooding it each day. I would assume he has no time to zip up to Earth and subtly affect over eight billion souls on this planet to eat more sugar, push the snooze button one more time, or yell at a screaming baby. If anything, he is spending all his time and energy on fulfilling the prophecy. No matter if he succeeds or fails, all of mankind will pay the price.”
I looked at him, unable to formulate any words in response to his revelation.
“I-I thought priests were supposed to preach to people about Satan’s influences and whatnot.”
“You can’t be that naive, John. I learned the truth long ago, which is precisely why I wanted to effect real change by working with you.”
“I, ah, I don’t understand,” I admitted softly. A fundamental belief had been stripped away, leaving only raw truth that was tender to the touch.
“The church knows Satan isn’t interfering, but they have us preach it regardless. It’s patronizing at best and harmful to the souls of our followers at worst. I refuse to stand in front of a congregation and tell them to blame their shortcomings on someone who doesn’t care one iota about them. It keeps the sheep in line and the money flowing. Can you imagine it, John? Can you imagine a church that teaches people that they have faults and need to work on them to become better people rather than just simply blaming the Devil? Lucifer doesn’t care what they do until they get to his doorstep.
“If people were simply good to one another and worked every day to become better than they were yesterday, they would have nothing to fear of Hell! Isn’t it ironic?” He was almost laughing at the end, as if it were all a big joke. “Churches would empty and the money would stop. That’s why I sought out one such as yourself to make a real change in this world; to save the innocent who couldn’t otherwise help themselves. Once I knew the truth, I couldn’t sit idly back and spew falsehoods to those who sought a convenient lie.” He was practically spitting out the words as if it disgusted him to have them rest on his tongue.
