Apostle: A Supernatural Action Adventure Opera (Damian’s Chronicles Book 3)

by Michael Todd

  Ravi went quiet for a moment. You mean the Catholic church, don’t you?

  He hated the idea, but it wasn’t ridiculous. The church was known for protecting their secrets and doing anything they had to, to accomplish that. If they knew he had those pieces of the cardinal’s life, his home would be turned upside down in a search. It was better that they were out of sight and that Max didn’t get wind of them, at least not yet. There were things in the world that he wasn’t ready to reveal to his mentee—things he’d learned long ago that had shattered his view of the world they lived in.

  Damian swigged the last of his tea, then carried the dishes to the kitchen and took the time to wash everything and put it all away. While he worked, his mind considered the words of the journal entry. He knew he could sit all night reading, but this was not the night to do so. His body was tired and ready for sleep, and he wanted to talk to the researcher in the morning. He had a million questions, but he knew he needed to limit their scope. Wally was his friend, and the man had risked great danger to bring him those things. Any more information would make the nervous keeper of secrets a liability to others and put Damian himself at risk.

  Ravi yawned again. Do you think this cardinal is into something bad?

  The priest narrowed his eyes as he clicked the living room lights off. It doesn’t sound like anything good, that’s for sure, although I sense he is not the villain in this story, at least not deliberately.

  The demon agreed but said nothing more, leading Damian to believe she was holding something back. Then again, she seemed a pro at doing that, and he knew pushing her would only make her retreat even more. He moved upstairs and crept quietly down the hall. Opening the spare bedroom door slightly, he peeked in on Wally, who lay sound asleep in his bed. The man had been exhausted, and a safe, warm bed had been exactly what he needed.

  Damian closed the door and headed down to his room. He changed for bed and shivered as he climbed between the cold sheets. The thunder rumbled again overhead as questions flooded his mind. Who was the woman the cardinal had written of? What had he done that was so bad that he waited each night for a terrifying visitor to arrive on his doorstep?

  Ravi groaned. Can we talk about something other than Creepy McCardinal? I will be up all night if we don’t.

  The priest raised his eyebrows and smiled. Yes, we can. In fact, I think I might need that too. What did you have in mind?

  The demon spoke immediately. Well, I remembered that shopping trip you said you would take me on.

  Damian grumbled and turned over. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the cardinal’s story isn’t as frightening as I thought.

  Ravi giggled. Nope, you can’t get out of this. We need to set a date. You promised, and you know that the longer you hold out, the worse it will be for you.

  He rolled his eyes. Fine. We can go tomorrow afternoon. But I saw some of the London fashions on the television. You cannot dress me in anything that belongs in a demon chamber, and if there is a skirt involved, I’m out. I don’t need a breeze when fighting demons.

  She laughed loudly. Don’t worry. I scratched skirts off the list a while ago. I don’t really want to see that. You have knobby knees, so we’ll stick with velour.

  The priest pulled the pillow over his head. Lord, help me.

  It’s too late for that, honey.

  Chapter Three

  Damian glanced at his watch as he finished pouring the freshly dripped coffee. It was already eleven, and Wally had, shockingly, woken only an hour before. He turned to his visitor and held one of the cups out. The researcher looked a lot better than he had the night before. His eyes were bright again, the bags were almost gone, and the color had returned to his cheeks. Damian could tell he was glad to have the cardinal’s items out of his care.

  The priest nodded toward the door. “Shall we enjoy the sunlight? For once, it isn’t raining.”

  Wally nodded, taking a sip. “After you.”

  They sat at the table in the empty courtyard. It was an unusually warm fall day, and Damian enjoyed it more than ever. He felt he needed the light to pull the dank, dark mood of the night before from his soul. He closed his eyes as he took a long slurp.

  Wally glanced at the blue sky for a moment before speaking. “So, did you read any of the journals last night?”

  Damian smirked. “You know I couldn’t not. I only read one page, though. It seems there are more out there, but October 1965 is the earliest we have, from what I saw when I flipped through. I’m not sure if the others fall in a timeline after that, but I’ll get there.”

  The researcher nodded, his eyes afraid. “And what did you find out from the page you read?”

  The priest sighed and shrugged. “It was very cryptic and contained little detail. He did something for a woman, and it seems he made a deal with a nefarious creature to do so. While he questioned his eternity, he reaffirmed his devotion at the same time. He sounded like a fearful man after some severe event. Like I said, though, there weren’t many details, so it’s a complete mystery what he was talking about.”

  Wally sipped his coffee, seemingly unaffected. “I thought there would be something bigger than what I’ve heard. Hopefully, you can find that information. I knew you’d be the one to figure it out.”

  Damian smiled and drew a deep breath. “So, why don’t you call your superiors and take a few days off? Stay around London, relax, and see the sights?”

  Wally groaned. “I wish I could. It sounds wonderful. Unfortunately, things at the church have been very hush-hush and eerie recently, and the last thing I need to do is suddenly disappear. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. Besides, I’m the only one running the artifacts room down below, so they need me there. We have a constant stream of pieces coming in.”

  The clang of the gate caught their attention. Max grunted and fumbled an armful of books. Damian chuckled and hurried to rescue the top of the stack. “I didn’t realize you were awake, much less out and about already.”

  The young man eased his books onto the table and wiped his forehead, panting. “I couldn’t sleep this morning. Partly because of my mind, and the other part because of my rotten demon.”

  Astaroth scoffed. Oh, you mean the one who keeps your puny ass alive? My apologies, master.

  Max ignored the smart-ass comment and tapped the books. “I had a blast touring a couple of weeks ago, so I went to the library to research historical locations I could visit. There are a million places I haven’t seen in this world, and if I have time here and there, I could jet off and explore.”

  Damian smirked. “It looks like I created a monster. Next thing I know, you’ll buy an old VW van and hit the road with only your pack and your demon.”

  The young priest grinned without shame. “Yeah, I guess I’m hooked now, but curiosity is a good thing. The way the demons destroy stuff, none of us know how long these places will remain. Better see them while I can.”

  Astaroth sniffed. Wait, is that my deep Columbian blend they are frivolously sipping? I swear to God, I am running a coffee shop for the entire damn church.

  Max glanced at the cups. Will you relax? It’s coffee. We can’t possibly drink it all. Besides, you already found four other shops you want to buy from.

  The demon scoffed. Damn right I did. I won’t waste this trip to Earth, not when the idiots below are destroying everything. I have to find some sort of metal lockbox to keep my coffee in. Grubby fingers will rue the day they messed with my beans.

  Max did his best not to roll his eyes. He smiled uncomfortably at Wally, unsure who he was. Damian noticed and shook his head. “Oh, how rude of me. Max, this is Father Wally Okenhoff, a good friend of mine from the Vatican. Wally, this is my trainee and partner Max.”

  The young man shook his hand with a quick look of realization. “Oh, Father Wally. Yes, you’re the one we traveled to Rome for Damian to visit. I wasn’t aware you were coming to see us.”

  The researcher shuffled nervously in his seat, his gaze darting
to Damian’s. “I thought no one knew about that trip.”

  Damian patted his friend on the shoulder. “Relax, old friend. Max is completely trustworthy. He doesn’t know what the visit pertained to, and I trust him with my life.”

  Max looked appreciative at the comment and nodded. “Secrets are buried with me, sir.”

  Wally eyed him for a moment, then relaxed. “Of course. Anyone Damian trusts, I do as well. Nice to meet you.”

  “Are you staying for a while?”

  The researcher looked at his watch and gulped the last of his coffee. “Actually, no. Unfortunately, I need to be on my way to catch a flight. I haven’t even purchased my ticket yet, and I know today is a busy traveling day.”

  He stood, clutching his bag in front of him. Damian lifted an eyebrow at the worn satchel. He sure was protective of the thing. I wonder what else is in that bag? He protects it like he has the Virgin Mary in there.

  Ravi chuckled. Probably the souls of thirteen virgins or something creepy like that. Maybe it’s Beelzebub’s right pinky toe that was cut off in the war.

  The priest pressed his lips tightly together to hold back a laugh. “Shall I walk you to the gate? I can call you a cab.”

  Wally nodded and waved at Max. “No need to call a cab. I’m sure if I walk a few blocks, I’ll find one.”

  Damian opened the gate and stepped into the street with him. They stood there for a moment, looking around. The priest cleared his throat. “Thank you for entrusting me with what you have. You can be sure that I will protect the journals and the secrets they hold with my life.”

  Wally smiled and tugged his hat down. “I know you will. I wouldn’t have come here if I thought otherwise. Whatever is in there may give you a clue as to where to find the cardinal. I think at this point, it might help us all if we knew. Then again, I have been wrong before.”

  Damian waved as a cab drove toward them. It pulled up to the curb, and he opened the door for his visitor. Wally tossed his bag into the back seat, and the men shook hands firmly. The researcher leaned in and whispered, “Be careful. Some secrets are worth more than others. Blood has been spilled over the centuries in an attempt to hide the truth. This would not be the first or the last time.”

  The priest nodded as his friend tipped his hat and climbed inside. Damian shut the door with a twinge of fear from that ominous warning. The cab pulled away and disappeared down the street. Damian stood on the curb and looked at the gathering clouds. One thing he knew for sure was that secrets in the church were more dangerous than most.

  Max shook his head, excited about all the places he wanted to visit. “Man, I did not realize how many cool spots are out there. In Vietnam, there is a place called the Golden Bridge. It is literally two stone hands holding up a golden walking bridge like something from a fairy tale. Then there’s Petra. That place is crazy! It’s a historical archaeological city in southern Jordan. They filmed Indiana Jones there, the one about the Holy Grail.”

  Damian nodded. “Yes, The Last Crusade. ‘Only a penitent man can pass.’”

  The trainee laughed. “Yes! Then the guy drinks out of the wrong grail and his skin melts off. Loved that when I was a kid.”

  “It was a good scene, although I wasn’t a kid when it came out.” Damian sipped his coffee and laughed. “Okay, where else?”

  Max rubbed his chin for a moment. “The Acropolis—the city with the temple to Athena. And of course, La Sagrada Familia. The temple of all temples built by the Catalan genius, Antoni Gaudi. Such a wonder to behold, don’t you think?”

  “You have done your research,” Damian said. “Tell me what has captured your attention so strongly about each of these places, young Max.”

  The young priest eyed him for a moment, wondering if he was ribbing him. Even if he was, Max didn’t care. He was excited about his discoveries. “There is so much history in these places. They date back to times we can never grasp. I mean, history tells us some of the story, but we can only imagine how the world actually was back then.”

  “That’s for sure,” Damian agreed.

  Max nodded. “The Golden Bridge was built because the artist wanted people to feel the connection between God and the Earth. The hands are literally sculpted to be God’s. Petra is a historical wonder because it’s intact in so many ways while others from that time period are not. The Acropolis revealed a city among cities, a basis for our current day societies. And La Sagrada is a beautiful oath to a faithful family built in brick and stone, reaching toward the heavens.”

  Damian smiled, liking the enthusiasm Max had for the world. It was something easily lost, especially in their line of work. They saw so much of the ugly side of things, and it was important to see the beauty, too.

  The young priest continued, spurred by his own excitement. “There are so many secret nuances to these places, and I want to touch and feel them. Maybe, even if only for a moment, to feel as if I were there during that time of innovation, art, and thought. I feel like we don’t do those things anymore. I sometimes feel like this planet has lost that luster.”

  His mentor leaned forward and rested his chin on his clasped hands. “I love your enthusiasm, but it’s important you understand that some things aren’t what they seem. It helps you to take disappointment in stride and find wonder in the rest.”

  Max leaned back, narrowing his eyes. “Like what?”

  “Well, let’s start with the Golden Bridge. Those hands were not carved. They were actually the hands of a Leviathan named Artrus employed by Lucifer and sent centuries before to rid the world of humans. During a battle between him and the Archangel Gabriel, the Leviathan was turned to stone. His body disintegrated, but his hands fell into the grass and were left as a reminder. The Vietnamese built a bridge through them and attempted to hide the truth from the people with a made-up story. Over time, Artrus became an old wives’ tale and nothing more.”

  Max scoffed. “Man, those are an alien’s hands? Talk about getting it wrong.”

  Damian eased his neck to release the tension. “Well, yes and no. If you think about it, they are a representation of God’s hands and the smack-down he delivers when you attack his people.”

  The trainee chortled. “I suppose you’re right. Okay, what else?”

  “Petra. The Nabataeans were thought to be magical and lived in the desert with few problems. The other tribes didn’t know that they were actually demons disguised as humans, there to fight the Arabs. Ultimately, they lost, but not without many human casualties. As far as the Acropolis is concerned, I have no knowledge beyond what history tells us.”

  Max sighed. “Thank God. Please tell me you don’t have a story about the Sagrada Familia.”

  Damian smirked evilly, and the young priest threw his hands in the air.

  “I like this story the most,” Damian said. “It shows the progression of demon hunting. In the La Sagrada Familia, there are seven towers. The tower of the Virgin Mary was later renovated because it was originally used as a dungeon to house Damned until they were killed by various means. When the church realized that some people could be exorcised, they were ashamed. They immediately changed the tower to the Virgin Mary—the misunderstood.”

  “Wow, that’s crazy. I didn’t see that one coming. So, the Familia is actually a story about our faults. About our changes within the war with the demons.”

  Damian nodded. “That is correct. Even we humans can learn new tricks once in a while.”

  Astaroth snarked, I wish you could learn to shut up.

  Chapter Four

  Damian stared at himself in the mirror. In one of the small dressing rooms in the back of a high-fashion haberdashery in London, he swallowed hard and turned, trying to give the outfit a chance. The thigh-length jacket was thick like a peacoat and adorned with close-ups of bright red roses. His eyes slid to the matching pants, which had a slightly smaller print.

  Ravi oohed. That’s all the rage right now. You look good in prints.

  The priest gaped at him
self, closed his mouth, then gaped again. Ravi, I look like Elton John on a bad day. In fact, I’m sure if I wore this out of here, I’d be attacked by bees and birds trying to collect my nectar.

  She choked on her laughter. Right. Okay. Let’s move on, then.

  Damian carefully removed the coat and gave it a final glare, knowing full well it probably cost more than his first car. The next outfit seemed more subdued on the hanger, but he chuckled once he’d put it on. The top was a single piece separated in front to look like a jacket and matching shirt. Pictures rolled over the shoulders, down the sleeves, and across the midsection. Damian narrowed his eyes and studied the image, which resembled a gray and white rendition of the rings of Saturn.

  Ravi was silent, waiting for his reaction. The pants sported the same rings of disaster and ended three inches above his ankles. I know it rains a lot in London, but seriously, is this necessary?

  The demon huffed lightly. If you don’t like your ankles showing, wear your boots with it—or buy some new ones, preferably.

  Damian hurried to undress. Next! I prefer to keep my ankles covered and not make others nauseous with my rings of death.

  Rings of— Ugh, you’re hopeless.

  He rehung the outfit and reached for another. I prefer to think of myself as practical, not hopeless.

  The priest studied the next choice with one brow raised. I think we grabbed this one by mistake. It obviously came from the old woman section of Petites Plus. This jacket is pink velour with birds and some sort of purple bush on it. And I won’t even comment on these pants. Seriously, it looks like a page from Where’s Waldo.

  Ravi groaned. Fine! But you’re trying the next one. No comments until it’s on.

  Damian moved the velour aside, slipped the next top over his head, and zipped the front. There weren’t any armholes. Biting back a sarcastic comment, he grabbed what felt like a bearskin rug from the hanger, wrapped it around himself, and looked in the mirror. The top resembled a tent designed as a 1970s waterproof track jacket without arms. The bottoms? He grimaced. A striped fur skirt overlapped in the front and hung to his shins.