by Michael Todd
Damian smirked. “That’s right, asshole. It’s time to move on.”
The spirit laughed loudly and swirled, floating into the air. His ghostly body swerved to the right and yanked a headstone from the ground. Max’s eyes widened as the entity threw the stone at him. Dirt and grass flew everywhere as he dived out of the way and slid across the wet earth. The ghost drifted to the rubble at the back of the cemetery. Boulders and debris, remnants of the castle the Normans had built centuries before, had been piled high.
One after another, the ghost threw these missiles at the two men, crushing any headstones in the way. Max ran toward the side of the cemetery and leaped forward as a boulder barely missed him. He tucked and rolled across the grass, landing on his stomach. Moving instinctively, he scrambled to shelter behind a medium-sized tomb. The sound of stone shattering echoed violently.
Max drew his legs to his chest and leaned against the cold tomb’s wall. He ducked as a piece of debris struck the top and crumbled over him, and covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to cough. He searched for Damian, but he was nowhere in sight. Max closed his eyes, growling his irritation. He crawled the length of the tomb and peered around the corner. He snapped his head back as a tombstone narrowly missed him.
He breathed deeply, pressed himself against the stone wall, and whispered a prayer of protection under his breath. “God, protect me from this scary ghost. Let us get through this in one solid, living piece.”
Astaroth chuckled. That’s one hell of a prayer, kid. You think He’s actually listening?
Max whimpered slightly and nodded. He’s always listening. At least, that’s what they tell me. I’m not sure if He’ll find this the right time to do anything about it, but it never hurts to ask.
The demon laughed louder. Actually, sometimes it does. I don’t know how happy He will be with the desecration of a holy cemetery, but hey, maybe I’m wrong.
The young priest groaned and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He crawled to the opposite side, looking for Damian, but another tomb blocked his view. I gotta find Damian. I gotta know what the plan is when everything goes to shit. God will protect me. I know it. God will.
Right then, a metal pole erupted from the wall beside his head. He froze and stared at the skull dangling from the end of the rod. His own blood-curdling and deafening scream shocked him into action. He swatted at the skull until it fell and rolled across the ground.
Astaroth grimaced. I had no idea your voice could reach that octave.
Max breathed heavily, kicking the head farther away. Really? I did. I’m pretty sure that was the same scream I gave when I was thirteen and saw a demon for the first time.
And how did that work out for you?
He shrugged. He chased me down a dark alley. I only got away because there was a street full of people on the other side.
Astaroth groaned. Okay, little girl, get your shit together. You can’t hide here all night. You need to either find Damian or get this exorcism over with on your own. I don’t think you’re ready for it, so your best bet is to find the chief.
Max nodded wildly. Yeah, I’ll find Damian.
He swallowed hard and crawled beneath the pole and beyond the tomb. From there, he stayed low, army-crawling between headstones. When he made it to an angel statue, he pressed his back against its square base to catch his breath. He glanced back at the tomb he had left as the roof caved in and the walls tumbled. “That could have been bad.”
Astaroth barked at him, It still can, sissy pants. Get your ass in gear and find Damian.
Max nodded. Right. Going.
He resumed his crawl, peeking occasionally over the tops of the tombstones, and finally spotted his mentor standing in the open. He exhaled a nervous breath, glad to see the priest was still alive and in one piece, then continued across the graves. Every time his hands and knees touched another burial surface, he had to resist the urge to make the sign of the cross. It felt terrible to scramble over people’s final resting places.
Astaroth was about to kill the kid. They are dead. I promise you they aren’t mad at you for this. Keep going before you don’t have a chest to cross.
Max was closer to Damian now, and the ghost was swirling around the cemetery in the background. The spirit shrieked and screamed, seeking anything he could throw.
Damian gripped his bible tightly in one hand and the cross in the other as he took another step forward. He shouted the words of a very long exorcism, knowing he needed something with some oomph to eliminate an entity that strong. “Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei, Patris Omnipotentis…” His eyes shifted to follow the streaks of light that trailed the spirit through the cemetery. He growled and dropped his hands, knowing he wasn’t close enough for his prayer to have an impact. For now, the ghost was pissed and too busy searching for Max to pay him any attention. He shook his head and raised his arms, ready to start again. Eventually, he would get the asshole’s attention.
Before he could speak, though, he heard a whisper behind him. “Psst. Damian. Hey.”
He looked over his shoulder at Max, who was hiding behind a statue of the Angel Michael. Damian waved him closer. “Get out here.”
The young man nodded wildly and hurried to him, still hunched over. “Sorry. I had to find you.”
Damian stared at his companion. “Was that you screaming or a cat dying?”
Max rubbed his hand through his hair and slumped. “I mean, it could have been either. I’m sure there are a ton of stray cats out here.”
The older priest’s lips twitched. “You sounded like a little girl.”
“What? The skull of the dead person from that tomb popped out right near my face. If that were you, I promise you would have screamed too. A metal pole almost took my head off at the same time.”
Damian grabbed him by the shirt collar and thrust him forward. “Go to the center and lure that bastard back here. I can’t exorcise him if he is all over the place. He needs to be here. Go. I’m right behind you with the bible and the cross.”
Max looked at him with pursed lips, wanting to argue but knowing the older priest was right. He turned toward the center of the cemetery, which was only fifty feet in front of him. In the distance, the ghost yelled loudly and yanked an entire casket from the ground. He threw it hard and it crashed into the dirt, spilling bones and jewelry. Max almost turned back, but breathed deeply and closed his eyes as he straightened slowly. The spirit didn’t see him, so he cupped his mouth and yelled, “Hey, fucker! You looking for me?”
The spectral head swiveled, and he dropped the skull he held. He smirked viciously and raced across the cemetery, stopping barely twenty-five feet from the young priest. As the entity swirled in circles around him, Max stiffened his shoulders, trying to control his breathing. In reality, he was utterly terrified and didn’t know what to expect. What he did know was this was his life now, and he had to get his brave on in these situations. Damian had told him before that he would be no good to anyone if he couldn’t keep his head. It was hard, though, with that thing circling closer and closer.
Damian intoned the exorcism as the spirit whipped around his prey like a cyclone. The older priest walked forward slowly, fighting the wind. He held his cross high as he spoke with intensity and feeling. With every step closer, the ghost faltered. He put his hands to his ears and screamed to scare them. Still, Damian moved relentlessly forward.
After about two minutes, the wraith froze and began to shake violently. The wind increased as he rose into the air. Damian stopped the prayer and bolted toward Max. He grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him behind a pile of rubble. The young man nodded in thanks, and Damian patted his shoulder. “This one might be messy.”
They turned, gripped the stone at the top, and peeked over. The entity twisted and writhed, his face fading in and out. Suddenly, he spun sharply and thrust his arm into the air. His spine-chilling voice echoed across the cemetery. “He shall find you, and when he does,
all of the fallen will gather at your doorstep.”
Max looked at Damian, who narrowed his eyes. The older priest had no idea what that meant, but it sounded important. With everything regarding Lilith and the cardinal going on, he had a hard time believing it didn’t correlate in some way. Before he could really consider that, the ghost began to glow vividly. Damian pulled Max to the ground, and they huddled together as the entity flared into unnatural brightness before exploding.
Black goo spattered in all directions and coated the grass, narrowly missing the two men. Max wrinkled his nose and put his face in his arm. “Holy ghost hell, that dude smells terrible.”
“How do you think you would smell after a century without a shower?”
They stood and gazed at the destruction. The place was a wreck, but they had managed to fulfill the most important part of the mission. Damian patted Max’s shoulder. “Let’s get a drink.”
Chapter Eight
They found a small pub in the village for drinks before returning home. Max ordered a beer and two shots to calm himself. Ravi pouted when Damian opted for beer instead of whiskey. He had a long drive ahead, and was already exhausted from the day.
The older priest leaned back in his chair and took a sip. After swallowing, he shook his head and laughed. “Oh, man. Seriously, that was crazy.”
Max chuckled and downed his shot. “Yeah, so much for keeping the destruction to a minimum.”
“It wasn’t pretty, but we’re both still alive. The restless spirit is at peace now, and so are we.” Damian savored a mouthful of beer. “There’s nothing quite like a good ale after a near-death experience.”
“Near-death?” Max asked. “I thought we had the situation well in hand.”
His mentor laughed easily. “Yes, from the sound of your girlish screams, you clearly weren’t worried at all.”
“Will I ever hear the end of that?” the trainee asked and looked dejectedly at his beer.
“Not until the end of this meal, at the very least.”
“Then hurry up and finish that steak, old man.”
“You know, other than your panicked shrieks—”
“I did not shriek,” Max protested.
Damian gave him a flat look. “I suspect once the rumors of the ghost die down, the townspeople will talk about the screaming banshee of Castle Combe cemetery for years to come.”
“All I hear is that my actions tonight will live on in local legend,” Max retorted.
His mentor laughed and shook his head. “I wanted to say you did well tonight, but I don’t know if your ego can handle another compliment. Pride is a sin, after all.”
“You really think so?” Max asked. “You think I did well?”
Damian took a sip of his beer and nodded. “You moved fast, you deliberately put yourself in danger to accomplish the mission, and you came back for me when you couldn’t find me. Those are excellent traits in a teammate. Good job.”
Max’s smile slowly widened. “Thanks. I’ll admit it cost me to be brave out there, but I knew I had to. It was you and me, and you couldn’t do it on your own.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Damian lifted his pint glass, his companion clinked it with his, and they drank in cheerful silence.
Max wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at Damian. “What did the ghost mean before he exploded? He said something like, ‘he shall find you, and the fallen will gather at your doorstep?’ What does that mean?”
Damian glanced at him and forced a smile. He didn’t want the young priest to know that he had his suspicions about what the ghost meant. “Who the hell knows? When I was a merc, demons said wild shit all the time, and no one knew what it meant. It was either random and cryptic or in a language we didn’t speak. I learned not to waste brainpower worrying about it.”
Max eyed him for a moment and nodded in understanding. “So, what do mercs do all day? I know what they do when they’re called out, but what about the rest of the time? And why did you decide to come back to work for the church? From what I heard, it was a pretty good gig working for the Killers. Good money, no lack of adventure, comradery, and family you wouldn’t find anywhere else. I don’t get why you would give that up to deal with the BS you deal with from the Wise Men.”
The waitress refilled their water glasses. Damian swallowed and thanked her, waiting for her to leave before he spoke. He knew mercs weren’t secret anymore, but he still felt strange talking about it in the open where anyone could hear.
He took a sip of his beer and put the glass down, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Being a merc now is different. Before Incursion Day, we stayed at the base, hung out together, trained several times a day, and chilled. We went out to different places, but we couldn’t have bank accounts or anything.”
Max looked confused. “Why?”
Damian smiled. “Well, before Incursion Day, being Damned gave you three choices. You could choose death, become a test subject, or join the mercs. There was no government division yet, and if you chose merc, you immediately died to your old life. They would literally bury an empty casket and mourn with your family. So we could go do stuff, but we had to be careful who we ran into. There was a real line there. After Incursion Day, everything changed. You didn’t have to join the mercs or the government. You could go rogue, or you no longer had to fight demons, even if you were Damned.”
Max nodded. “That’s how I thought it was, though I was pretty sure if you were Damned and unaffiliated, you ran the risk of being killed out in the world.”
The priest sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s true. The mercs have changed, though. They work with the government, have lives, homes, and families, and are less constrained. As for why I came back to the church…well, I had never really left. I worked for the church with the mercs, and when the opportunity for this assignment came, I prayed about it and felt God was leading me back to the church fulltime to save lost souls.”
Max thought about it for a second and smiled. “Wow, you really have been through a lot. Have you ever reached a point where you’d rather kill the demon than exorcise it?”
Damian gulped his beer, his gaze shifting to the other patrons. His thoughts wandered back ten years to the battle at the amusement park. He could almost feel the rage that had built in him that night. Max was waiting for an answer and Damian forced a crooked smile.
He wanted to give his assistant the truth but not scare him with his story. “Everyone reaches breaking points throughout their lives. That’s a reality. I have seen things that will never be erased from my memory. But the truth I always hold onto is that when I’m weak, the church reminds me of why I need to be strong. My vows remind me why I need to do it the right way. Without that, we would all succumb to our human instinct for revenge.”
The two fell silent, sipping their beers, lost in their own thoughts. Damian recalled all the times he’d pulled the trigger when he should have opened the bible.
Max considered the future and how he would handle death and heartbreak in the days to come. Would he succumb to the need for revenge, or would he put his faith in the church? Only time would tell, and he hoped he had plenty of that left.
Damian finished the last of his beer and set the glass down briskly. “You ready?”
Max nodded and gulped the last drops in his glass. “Yeah. We have a long ride back. Thanks, man.”
The older man signaled for the waitress and handed her his card. “No problem. I’ll make sure to put down another favor owed.”
“Great. You should give me the choice on these, though.”
Damian chuckled and signed the receipt. They shuffled out to the SUV and Max looked at Damian, who yawned widely. “You want me to drive?”
“After two shots? Nah, I got this. But thanks, I appreciate it. Sit back and relax.”
Max leaned his head back and stared out the window. Damian gripped the steering wheel tightly and accelerated slowly down the cobblestone streets. As they left Castle Combe and turned on
to the main road, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He retrieved it, rolling his eyes at the Secretary’s name on the screen. He knew the call wasn’t to tell them they’d done a good job. Still, he had no other option but to answer.
It was the part of his new job he hated most. As a merc, he didn’t answer to anyone but Korbin, and even when the church did call, they rarely gave criticism or orders. That freedom for all those years had been good. He shrugged, accepting that he had to trade something to do what he felt called to do. Max looked at him, and he showed him the name. “Duty calls, as usual. I can’t even take a nice quiet car ride for five minutes. I guess I should have expected it. She knows when I’m sleeping and when I’m awake.”
The trainee raised an eyebrow. “The Secretary is Santa Claus?”
“Not even close to being that jolly.” Damian pressed the Answer button with a huge grin. “Good to hear from you, Secretary. I assume you’re calling to tell me how well Max and I did at the cemetery? It means a lot to me that you took the time to call, but you didn’t have to do so this late.”
She coughed lightly. “It amazes me that I order you not to destroy, and yet you leave chaos in your wake wherever you go. I did consider switching it up and telling you to go nuts but decided reverse psychology would be wasted on you. I’d be left holding the bag for the fireball from hell you unleashed.”
Damian smirked. “Glad you liked our work. Next time, maybe expect less when a giant ghost throws caskets full of bones at our heads. Mm-kay? Great. Thanks for the consideration.”
The Secretary sighed. “As much as I love to go back and forth with you, that’s not why I’m calling. I need you to take a detour—the next exit coming up.”
He looked at the sign as they passed it and eased his foot off the gas to slow as they approached the ramp. “You know, I told myself today that maybe it’s good she always knows where I am. Then I thought, yeah, sure. I’ve always wanted someone looking over my shoulder every second of the day. I always wanted an extra pair of eyes when I take a shower to make sure I reached all the spots on my back. You know, those hard-to-reach places.”