As it closed in, the creature sucked in a giant breath and belched. Only instead of the fire Peter expected, a stream of clear fluid sprayed from its gullet.
The gargoyles, however, also ignored everything else in the room and focused on their mission. The stone soldiers closed in before Father Quentin, forming a solid wall. Even without shields their tight formation reminded Peter of the classic phalanx. Their bodies hissed and acrid fumes rose as they intercepted the dragon's spray.
Acid, Peter realized. When did the dragon get acid breath?
The dragon pressed forward as if oblivious to the marble guardians. Peter trailed behind, desperate to close and attack the beast before it could interrupt the mass once again. Somewhere off to the side he heard Faith and Nicolette crying out for help. Benedict bolted off to join them, but despite his own desires Peter forced himself to stay focused. If he couldn't stop the dragon, nothing else mattered.
Father Quentin held the chalice steady over his head. His eyes locked with the dragon’s. To Peter's surprise, the little French priest held his ground. He felt far less surprise when the gargoyles stood theirs. The Peluda crashed into them at full speed, but they didn’t budge. The dragon came to a jarring stop.
Father Quentin’s voice rang out through the sanctuary, strong and clear. “May the blood of Christ keep me safe for eternal life.” He lowered the cup and touched it to his lips. The demon wailed as the priest sipped the wine. To Peter’s ears, it sounded almost like a scream of pain. He saved his pity and seized the opportunity.
Peter leapt to close the distance and darted under the beast. He covered six feet in his dive and landed in a hard roll. His shoulder ached as he came up, but he refused to let it slow him. He switched to a reverse grip as he lifted the Sword high in both hands. He brought his entire body weight down on the blade as he drove it home into the beast’s mighty tail, just below the point where it met the pelvic bone.
The Peluda let out a deafening roar of pain.
The priest continued through the ritual, providing communion first to Deacon Dan as the dragon writhed in its death throes. After consuming the host, the deacon rushed to the fallen friar. Stefan nibbled at the wafer and managed to down a swallow or two of the wine.
The beast thrashed in agony. Peter ducked and shuffled, but he struggled to stay near the creature. Just when he thought he’d have to duck back out and find another chance to attack, the church’s stone defenders moved in. The gargoyles grasped the dragon in their thick rock hands and held it firmly. Peter locked eyes with one of the soldiers. Refusing to loosen its grip even for a moment, it acknowledged him only with a nod.
Peter steadied himself and checked his stance. He brought his blade high and exhaled, forcing himself to relax. The blinding light grew even brighter as he swung the Sword down and sliced into the Peluda's tail – the only weakness he knew. Despite the power of his blade and the force Peter put behind it, his stroke only cut halfway through.
A solid stream of blood poured from the beast’s wound. The demon screamed and raged, but the gargoyles held it tight as the knight retrieved his blade. Peter stepped sideways to avoid the mess and readied himself.
The second blow finished the job. With its tail fully severed, Peluda shuddered twice and went still. Peter darted around to the beast’s head for a better view. Conor and Gabriel fell in behind him just in time to see the light go out of the demon’s eyes. The three friends shared a grin.
Then the quakes began.
At first Peter thought it was just the rumbling of the gargoyles moving. First they pushed the giant carcass of the dragon down into the fissure. Then they returned to their stations. The great stone defenders marched by. Each saluted him as it passed, and he returned the salute in kind.
But as they settled back into their slumber, the rumbling didn’t dissipate. Instead, it intensified. The entire building shook. Peter watched as the parishioners moved away from the gaping chasm he’d descended into earlier that night. Guessing it to be the source, he pushed through the crowd and moved closer.
As he approached the abyss, however, the quaking grew too intense for him to continue. A Frenchman next to him gasped. Soon the bulk of the congregation watched with them as the walls of the fissure moved. The gargoyle warriors gave one final clang that shook the church down to its very foundations as it snapped shut, and then the rumbling stopped altogether.
Peter crossed himself and said a prayer. The crowd joined him. Then, one by one, they filed off to get in line for communion. A single line marked the way. At its head, Father Quentin stood with a bowl of consecrated hosts. Deacon Dan stood beside him, passing the chalice to the believers after they’d eaten their tiny wafers.
Peter, Conor, and Gabriel eyed each other and skipped past the line. They jogged up behind the altar and formed up around the fallen friar. Peter arrived just in time to see the color begin to return to his German friend’s face. He clasped Stefan’s hand as the friar smiled up at him.
“How do you feel?” Peter asked.
“Like I got stabbed,” the German laughed at him. He clutched his bandage and coughed. Peter watched blood soak through the bandage around his chest. Clearly, the wound hadn’t closed. On the other hand, the effects of the poison seemed to be fading quickly. “And like I’ve got one hell of a hangover.”
Peter laughed at his friend. Faith appeared a moment later, leading Nicolette and her parents from whatever cranny they’d hidden in. She stepped next to Peter and slid her hand into his. He gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Benedict rubbed up next to them, wagging his tail hard.
“The dragon?” Stefan asked.
Peter’s smile widened. “Dead.”
Nicolette gave Faith a questioning look, but Stefan beat her to the translation. “Le dragon est mort, mon cher.”
The little girl gave a small cheer and began to dance. They all laughed along with her. Faith pressed up against Peter’s side and lay laid her head on his shoulder, shaking. He couldn’t tell if she laughed or cried. He didn’t press it. Either way, she needed to let it out. But he only lingered for a minute before he gently disentangled himself.
“I’ll be right back,” he told her.
“Where are you going?” she asked, clearly disappointed.
“It’s Easter Sunday!” His voice rang out with delight. “It’s time for communion!”
His timing proved impeccable. The priest and deacon had already met the needs of the tiny congregation. They made their way back to their guests and finished the sacrament. Gabriel and Conor partook solemnly. Father Quentin passed over Faith, knowing her to be protestant. But he gave her a solemn blessing before moving on, making the sign of the cross on her forehead.
When the priest reached Peter, he stopped. Peter noted that Quentin's serpentine features had vanished. The priest stammered, lost for words. The young man eased his burden by crossing himself and saying a prayer. The priest remembered his part and said his own words before passing on the host. Deacon Dan followed a moment later, handing Peter the chalice with a smile.
Chapter 24
Father Quentin led the formal recession from the altar. Friar Stefan joined them, his arm wrapped around the large, American deacon for support. From his vantage behind the altar, Peter watched the joyous congregation wait respectfully as they passed by.
When the recessional group passed, the congregation waited. After a moment Peter realized they wouldn’t budge until he did. He took Faith’s hand again and led the way. Conor and Gabriel followed a few steps behind, joined by Nicolette and her exuberant parents.
“We really shook the pillars of heaven, didn’t we, Wang?” Faith asked him.
“You know I can’t finish that quote in a church, right?” Peter winked at her.
She giggled back at him.
The first gentle rays of sunrise peeked over the horizon at Peter as he and Faith exited the church hand in hand. The cool spring air refreshed him.
The congregation mobbed around Father Q
uentin, clearly excited to see him returned from his hiatus. Adrienne jumped forward and gave the little priest a powerful hug. All her intimidation from the day before seemed long gone, replaced with an equally powerful warmth and love.
Church ladies. Go figure.
Peter and Faith watched as Stefan quietly extricated himself from the gathering and stepped off to join his friends.
“You think they’ll forgive his transgressions?” Conor asked.
“I think they already have,” Gabriel noted. “A little bit of well-timed heroism goes a long way.”
“By the end of the day,” Conor drawled, “Adrienne will be telling all her friends that she knew he had it in him all along.”
“From the sound of it,” Stefan confirmed, “she already is.”
They all shared a laugh at that.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Peter?” Faith asked.
He gave her a shocked look, then realized that in all the turmoil back in Athens she’d never actually met any of his comrades. Everyone laughed at him as he sheepishly presented Gabriel, Conor, and Stefan in turn.
“Y’all do this often?” she asked, once she’d met everyone.
“Dragons are a bit unusual, but yeah, this is kind of our thing.” Gabriel gave a matter of fact reply.
“These guys are old hands,” Peter added, “but this is my first time. Well, second if you count Athens.”
“You didn’t muck up too bad for a rookie,” Conor teased.
“All’s well that ends well, right?” Peter replied, matching the smile.
The group all turned to watch Father Quentin trading laughter with his parishioners. Faith squeezed Peter's hand and leaned on his shoulder again. “I’d say it ended pretty well,” she whispered up at him.
“So where do you want to go for our second date?” Peter asked her with a grin.
“You call this a date?” Faith scowled back at him.
“We had food,” he pointed out, “and wine. You got all dressed up. We had plenty of mood lighting. And music. We had pipe organ music. I bet you’ve never had pipe organ music on a first date before!”
“This is not a date!”
“I’m thinking Italian. Do you like Italian?”
“Now listen here!” She lifted her chin petulantly as she stepped closer, thumping a hand against his chest. Her neck strained as she tilted her head back to meet his eyes.
“Of course you do,” he ignored her. “Everybody loves Italian. It’s all the carbs.”
“This was not a date! Look at me. I’m a mess! You’re all sweaty and gross and covered in… I don’t even want to know what you’re covered in!”
“I bet we could stop over at Venice on the way home. I’m going out on a limb here, but I bet they have fantastic Italian food there.”
“This is -” she stopped and blinked at him. “Did you say Venice?”
“Yeah. Michael probably won’t mind.”
“Michael?” she interjected. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“Well, he offered me the private jet to get back home. We’ll have to ask him before we divert to Venice. But he probably won’t mind.”
“Private jet?” Despite a valiant effort, Faith couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.
“I bet he’d do it just to see me take someone on a second date.”
Her anger rose up again. “This is not a -”
Peter didn’t let her finish. He took her face firmly in both hands and kissed her. Faith melted in his arms, and all the anger seeped out of her. She kissed him back. He’d planned to go on that way for a while, but a cheer from Nicolette jolted them out of the moment. Thunderous applause from the congregation followed.
Faith blushed as their lips parted. She tried to turn away, but the parishioners surrounded them. She settled for burying her face in Peter’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Peter savored the soft feel of her hair and the warmth of her body as he met their applause with a wave and a sheepish smile. After gathering herself, Faith found her courage and faced the crowd with an embarrassed smile of her own.
“OK,” she told him. “You can call it a date.”
His eyes brightened.
“But only if you clean up,” she told him. “You’re disgusting. And get me some food. I’m starving!”
“There’s a shower back at the hotel,” he replied. “And there’s this great little bagel shop -”
“Non!” one of the villagers interrupted. The plump old woman rattled off a string of French.
“I didn’t catch a word of that,” Peter said.
“Slow down,” Faith told the woman. “Ralentissez, s’il vous plait.”
The woman began again, speaking much more slowly. Faith nodded along and gave a halting answer of her own.
“She says she wouldn’t be caught dead letting us pay for food on Easter Sunday,” Faith told Peter. “Especially after what we’ve done. She wants us to join her for brunch.”
Peter met the woman’s eye and bowed solemnly.
“We’d be delighted,” he told her. Faith translated.
The woman beamed at them, but she chattered at Peter, waving her finger.
“She says you need a bath first, though.”
The knight laughed. “So I'm told.” Faith translated.
The matron turned to face the crowd and made a loud pronouncement in French. From the cheers, Peter wondered if the entire congregation would join them. He decided he didn’t mind if they did.
Peter proffered an elbow out to Faith. She took it in her arm, and the young couple followed the old woman back toward town. His friends and a gaggle of Frenchmen trailed behind them. Benedict trotted along beside, panting in the morning rays.
“Can we keep the dog?” Faith asked him.
“The dog?” Peter asked. “I’m still trying to decide if I’m going to keep the girl.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“But I’m keeping Benny, for sure,” he told her. The shepherd wagged his tail and let out another woof. Peter scratched his head.
“What if I want the dog?” Faith teased him back.
“I suppose we can work out visitation rights,” Peter answered. “You can have him twice a week and every other weekend.”
“Not good enough.”
“Well, I’m not giving him up.”
“I guess you’re stuck with me, then.”
Peter eyed her up and down, and then gave her a giant smile. “I can live with that.”
“I can live with that.” He squeezed her arm in his as they walked off into the sunrise.
Dear reader,
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I hope you loved it! Reviews like yours are the lifeblood of independent authors. Please take a moment to stop by Amazon.com and leave an honest review of this story. Even something as simple as, “I really loved it - 5 stars!” is a huge help. Even if you completely hated the story, please let us know!
Get more Peter Bishop in the novel War Demons and the short stories Who's Afraid of the Dark and Knight of the Changeling
Keep an eye out for the return of Peter Bishop in Spirit Cooking, coming Spring 2018! Get an exclusive look at these upcoming projects and more by joining my e-mail list at:
SwordOfTheArchangel.com
If you liked this book, you'll also love Fade by my friend Daniel Humphreys.
About Russell Newquist
Russell is a high school dropout who somehow still graduated from the University of Alabama in Huntsville in 2000 with a BA in Philosophy. At one point he had to explain to a professor why he had to miss class to take the GED exam.
Naturally, he began a career as a computer programmer. Later, he went on to earn a MS in Computer Science. Somewhere along the way he earned a black belt, and then added a few stripes to it and opened his own dojo. Because he never does anything the easy way, he started publishing company Silver Empire and has written some stories and even a novel or two. People see
m to like them, so he’ll probably write some more.
He lives in north Alabama with his wife Morgon, four kids and two dogs. They share a house that still manages to have more computing devices than living beings. He attends a Roman Catholic church, continues to run his dojo, and works for a small software company.
Titles By
Russell Newquist
The Prodigal Son
War Demons
Spirit Cooking (Coming early 2018)
The Tales of Peter Bishop
Who's Afraid of the Dark?
Knight of the Changeling
Anthologies
Make Death Proud To Take Us
Between The Wall And The Fire
Lyonesse Volume 1
Titles From
Silver Empire
Novels
Treasures of Dodrazeb: The Origin Key by S.D. McPhail
A Pius Man by Declan Finn
Anthologies
Make Death Proud to Take Us edited by Russell Newquist
Between the Wall and the Fire edited by Russell Newquist
Games
Ghost of the Frost Giant King
Short stories
"Who's Afraid of the Dark?" by Russell Newquist - also available in the anthology Make Death Proud to Take Us
"Down the Dragon Hole" by Morgon Newquist - also available in the anthology Make Death Proud to Take Us
"The Blacksmith and the Ice Elves" by Morgon Newquist
- also available in the anthology Make Death Proud to Take Us
"Death and Taxes and Fairies" by K. Bethany Sawyer
"Second Chances" by K. Bethany Sawyer
"Wishing Only Wounds the Heart" by Morgon Newquist
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Vigil: An Urban Fantasy Thriller Page 10
