Guardian Glass

by Christopher Nuttall

  “And she is in danger,” Brother Andrew said. He gasped aloud. Something else was speaking through him. His entire body was shaking. “They are coming for her. They are coming. They are coming. They are coming…”

  His body arced backwards as the entire chapel shook, as if a giant had smashed a club into the side of the building. I heard someone yelling in the distance, but I ignored them. Someone was trying to force his way into the mortal plain. I shouted a spell of banishment as loud as I could, but it didn’t notice, it didn’t even seem to react. There was a long second in which I knew we were doomed…and then it just stopped. The noise vanished so suddenly that I thought I’d been deafened. At least, part of my mind whispered, he hadn’t exploded into a bloody mess.

  “Well,” Brother Andrew said, picking himself up from the ground. He didn’t sound hurt, or stunned, or any different at all. “That was certainly something different.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Power is not a means, it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship. The object of persecution is persecution. The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power.

  -George Orwell

  The Bishop – Len – came into the chapel, running as fast as he could. He looked singed around the edges of his robes and his face was utterly furious.

  “Brother Andrew,” he shouted. “Are you all right?” He glared at us before we could answer. “I knew we shouldn’t have allowed a woman into the holy place. If this is your fault, I’ll…”

  “I am quite fine, Len,” Brother Andrew said. There was a surprising firmness in his normally soft and pleasant voice. “It was merely a bit of a shock.”

  “A bit of a shock?” Len demanded. “The entire building shook!”

  “I believe that that was actually not intentional,” Brother Andrew said, for all the world as if he were ordering dinner, not discussing a potential attack from a demon or some other creature from the other realms. “The overspill from the contact boiled out into the physical world, but it was definitely not a malice-driven creature.”

  “You refer to it as a creature,” I said, before the Bishop could explode again. Something had disrupted Didi’s attempt to practice necromancy and I suspected that it was the same entity. “Do you actually know what it was?”

  Brother Andrew turned his light blue eyes on me. “I have sensed the presence of demons and ghosts, shadows and monsters,” he said. “I have exorcised demons and possessing souls from their victims, but I have never sensed anything remotely like that…entity. It seemed almost unaware of my presence, yet it was quite powerful enough to shatter my attempt to use my…talents. I received no hint of actual malice, but again, it certainly acted in a hostile manner.”

  He touched his forehead lightly with one hand. “I have never felt the like before,” he said. “I feel quite frail.”

  I frowned. I’d seen demons too and Brother Andrew was right; they were permanently driven by hatred, hatred for humanity and God, who’d condemned them to the deepest pits of Hell. No demon could manifest on our realm without being summoned, and even when they did manifest they couldn’t sustain its presence for long, but while they were active they could do terrible damage. It took a fantastic amount of magical force to summon and bind a demon…and they always cheated. It was like playing cards with a man who could always see your hand. If you won, it was only because he let you win, or because you were in an unassailable position already.

  “You’re still Sensitive, though?” Len asked. It was harder to take him seriously now that I knew his first name. “You’re not…blind?”

  “I have prayed long and hard for God to lift this burden from my shoulders,” Brother Andrew said. “If I see a tiny fraction of how He sees humanity, I cannot imagine how He can stand it. I have seen the goodness and mercy in the human soul and the blackness and evil that threatens to overcome it and destroy its mere existence. I have seen people who chose the path of evil; not because they had no choice, but because they found evil to be preferable to good. I have seen saints and known them for the liars they were. I have seen too much for humanity to stand…

  “But I am still Sensitive,” he concluded. I’d been starting to worry. Blinding the one and only decent Sensitive would probably be considered an act of war. The Pope might swallow it, but the Knights Templar might decide to do something stupid in revenge, like unleashing a demon themselves. They weren't supposed to have any truck with demons, but it’s like biological warfare; there is really little difference between preparing a means of offence and a means of defence. “I can still see it all.”

  He looked directly at me. “You’re tired,” he said. “Why don’t you lay down your burden?”

  “I don’t have a replacement,” I admitted. He was right; there was little point in trying to lie to him, but who would replace me when I resigned? Or, for that matter, when I was killed in the line of duty? “What else can you tell me about the entity?”

  “It wasn't a Faerie, but it wasn't human either,” Brother Andrew said. He stroked his bald head, carefully avoiding the shock of hair, while he considered. “I couldn’t place it at all, Guardian. It was something completely new in this world, and yet…I have the oddest sense that I have encountered something like it before.”

  Aylia blinked. “If it’s something new,” she said, “where would you have encountered it before?”

  “It’s not that simple,” I said. “A Sensitive would pick up many different kinds of information, far more than any human mind could process and turn into something useful. He may have caught a glimpse of the entity in passing…”

  “Or someone else might have done so and passed the memory on to me,” Brother Andrew added. He took a grateful sip of water from the glass Dougal handed to him. “It is really impossible to be sure, although I will meditate on it at length and contact you at once if I remember where I sensed it. It was clearly very powerful, but at least it was unable to materialise fully on this plain.”

  Or maybe it just wanted to disrupt things and didn’t want to do anything else, I thought. I carefully kept that thought to myself. Something that powerful was clearly a major player in the other realms…and if it was that powerful, I didn’t want it to notice me until I was ready to deal with it. It seemed to be concentrating on protecting Cecilia’s trail – it hadn’t responded to anything else, although we would have to probe it until we had identified it – and I knew that magicians could bind demons to do that, but a demon would have been driven by malice. We might have been in a church while Brother Andrew began his search, but the Faye house was hardly holy ground…and a demon would have taken the opportunity to wreck havoc.

  Aylia shook her head as Dougal passed her a second glass of water. “This is all very interesting,” she said, seriously, “but did you sense anything else about my sister?”

  “Very little,” Brother Andrew said. He seemed almost relieved to be discussing something else, although I could tell that he knew how painful Aylia was finding the whole experience. She had to have been fascinated to see such a rare magic in action – it wasn't something her father could have shown her – but she was driven by the need to find her sister. “I believe that she is still alive, but beyond that…”

  “There are other ways,” Dougal said, suddenly. “There are some of the Fathers who summon demons to find lost treasures and other valuables. My old master…”

  “Your old master kicked you out for gross incompetence,” Len snarled. I saw Brother Andrew wince at his tone. “The practice you refer to is only done with the permission of the Pope in Rome and then only for finding hidden treasure. I highly doubt that His Holiness will grant permission to summon a demon for any other purpose and even if we did, the Sons of Sin will not be cooperative for such a good cause.”

  “But it’s finding a lone child,” Aylia protested. “How could they refuse to help us?”

  “
Very easily,” Len snapped. “The Pope has a rocky relationship with both us and magic, girl, and while we regard the Pope as the Vicar of Christ, he feels that we are a…”

  “Loose cannon?” I supplied.

  “A potential liability,” Len said, switching his glare to me. It didn’t impress me. I’d been glared at by experts, after all. Len looked as if he was permanently on the verge of a stroke. “There are Cardinals who feel that we should be closed down permanently and others who want us brought back to our rightful place at the right hand of the Pope.”

  I considered it. I had known some of it, of course, but I hadn’t realised just how rocky the tensions had become between the Pope and some of his vassals. The Knights Templar had been declared extinct more than once and, even now, remained in a kind of limbo, despite their increasingly vital role. The Muslims, in particular, had loudly condemned any resurrection and the Jews hadn’t been that far behind. If the Pope hadn’t had to deal with a growing wave of magically-caused chaos in Europe – and everywhere else the Catholic Church had an interest – matters would have been far worse. The outcome would be interesting, in a Chinese sense, of course.

  “And even if we did summon a demon to assist in the search for your sister,” Len continued, “the Unholy One would probably take great delight in misleading the searchers until it was too late. A demon cannot be trusted, ever. We could not convince a demon to give us a truthful answer and if we should happen to lose control of it, even for a second…”

  “I understand,” I said. “You’ve made your point.”

  Aylia gave me a look that said, quite clearly, betrayer, but I paid her no heed.

  “You’re a good girl,” Brother Andrew said. He gave her a smile that utterly transformed his face. “It is good that you are so concerned for your sister. I believe that God will ensure that the two of you are reunited one day.”

  “Thank you,” Aylia said. Tears were streaking her face. I hadn’t even realised that she was wearing makeup until now. “I thank you for your help…”

  “Father Dougal, please would you escort the young lady to the washroom,” Brother Andrew said. It was clearly an order and Dougal leapt to obey. Aylia followed him back into the deeper recesses of the chapel. “You brought me an interesting puzzle, Guardian.”

  “I know,” I said. I tried not to feel dispirited, but it wasn't easy. I had hoped that the Sensitive could lead me right to Cecilia, but instead…Something else had intervened, again. This case clearly had repercussions I hadn’t even begun to grasp. It didn’t help that Len was probably going to be on the phone to Rome and Washington as soon as we left, protesting the damage to the chapel. It would be another black mark in my dossier. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  “My pleasure,” Brother Andrew said. He frowned delicately. “I may have something else to tell you. I cannot be too detailed, but I believe that you have to know. I would also rather that you kept the source to yourself as long as possible.”

  “I understand,” I said. Brother Andrew might not be a regular priest, but he would certainly be treated as one, including being under the Seal of the Confessional. “My lips are sealed.”

  “Not literally, I trust,” Brother Andrew mused. “My presence here is well known, as you know, and I have hundreds of visitors from around the world. I hear what they wish to tell me and I Sense what they don’t wish me to know. My…talent allows me to pull all of it into a coherent whole.”

  I nodded, impatiently. As far as we can tell, a Sensitive might as well be an extremely powerful telepath, although a very odd one. No one is quite sure how the ability works, let alone the limits that govern its use in our world, and there are calls for all Sensitive magic-users to be registered. I always considered it rather pointless – one was dead, one was in prison and the third was in front of me – but Congress tended to find the idea of a walking lie detector a little alarming. Purely out of concern for the well-being of the community, of course.

  “I have heard whispers and rumours about Faye,” he continued. I lifted an eyebrow. “I have heard that the man has…changed in the last few years and that his empire has changed and darkened in tone. He actually sent one of his Catholic employees to me to research the nature of my gift and I believe…that he isn’t the only one who has been forced to use his connections in such a manner.”

  “You were too kind to the man,” Len informed him. “You should have demanded that he choose between Faye and the Church.”

  “He was not in a good position to choose,” Brother Andrew said. I had the impression that it was an argument that they’d had before. The Bishop would have been happier fighting the enemies of the Church than baby-sitting a Sensitive, although anyone who wanted to hurt Brother Andrew would have to reckon with him first. The defences around the chapel were formidable. “I discussed the vague details of my talent with him and waited for him to talk to me about his real problems.”

  He smiled for a moment. “Half the time, there are people who need the thought that they cannot lie to a priest,” he added. “I’m cheaper than a psychologist and I actually do have insight into a person’s mind. They come to me and I wait patiently for them to open up and tell me what they’re worried about. I deal with men who fear that they’re stuck with cheating wives, or their children are going mad, or even being homosexual. I listen and I sometimes offer what advice I can.

  “But this man wouldn’t say much. He kept saying that Faye was demanding too much from them, but he wouldn’t go into details. I heard the same from others, but most of the people who would be touched by Faye wouldn’t come into this place, unless they wanted to spy. He was pleading for details, but I couldn’t tell him much more than what is already in the public domain. I can’t put my gift into easy words…”

  I frowned. “He wanted to know how your gift worked?”

  “Yes,” Brother Andrew said. “He kept asking, in hundreds of different ways, questions that I couldn’t answer. It moved from my gifts to others, everything from the fighting mages in the Knights to demon-summoning and banishing rituals as we practiced them. Eventually, he thanked me, made a large donation, and vanished. I never saw him again.”

  “I thought at the time it was a probe into our defences,” Len added. “I reported it to the Holy Father, but nothing came of it.”

  “Probably not,” I agreed. “There are some surprisingly strong links between Faye and the Catholic Church.”

  “He wasn't the only one who was worried about Faye,” Brother Andrew said. “You may want to take a closer look at him.”

  “Take a closer look at a guy who has half of official Washington in his pocket,” I said. “Great, just great.”

  “His daughter knows nothing about it,” Brother Andrew said. He winked at me. “She’s also quite fond of you, although I think she doesn’t know it herself yet. I think you’ll probably find that she’s a good companion on your journey.”

  I sighed. I liked Aylia myself, but she was ten years younger than me. “Thank you for that,” I said. I wasn't sure if I meant it and he, of course, knew that I wasn't sure. “Can you give me the name of the person who came visiting you?”

  “No,” Brother Andrew said. His face had gone completely blank. “I can’t discuss specific details of anything spoken in the Confessional to you, regardless of the pressure you try to apply. I would give the same answer to the Pope himself. I swore before God that I would be a priest first and uphold my vows to the best of my ability. I may not be a Little Sister, but…”

  I nodded ruefully. The Little Sisters of Christ were an offshoot of Christianity that had appeared in the years following the appearance of magic. Although they generally upheld the Pope’s line that magic was evil and only to be used in cases of direst necessity, they used magic to bind themselves to their vows, ensuring that they could do nothing, but comply. They were sworn to always speak the truth, to eat and drink no more than they needed – and avoid certain foodstuffs and alcohol completely – and wear nothing, b
ut the most modest clothes. They were not always liked, but they were respected, not least because they meant every word they said. The spells they had put on themselves, willingly, ensured their full compliance.

  “I understand,” I said. Personally, I had always found the Little Sisters of Christ rather creepy, but each to their own. They weren't forcing anyone to take their vows, so we generally stood back and let them get on with it. They were very good nurses and aid workers, although several had been killed in Haiti and Somalia. “Thank you for your help.”

  Aylia returned, rubbing her hands together. I found myself hoping, in an almost adolescent manner, that she hadn’t overheard all of the discussion. If I was going to be investigating her father, I wasn't sure I wanted her along. Besides, she would probably find his casual revelation embarrassing.

  “You’re welcome,” Brother Andrew said. He paused. “Are you sure you want to walk out back the way you came?”

  “Truthfully?” I asked. “No, I don’t. There’s little choice, is there?”