by David Clark
He took a sip of his reinforced coffee before continuing. “Luckily, the church has sympathizers everywhere. When word got around about this place, a few of them were smart enough to get word back to the Vatican through safer channels. Mind you, back then it was not as simple as emailing under a different name or anything. They had to know who to trust. If they chose wrong, their life could be at risk. When word got back, the Pope prepared the artifacts you would need and sent a dispatch for your family.”
Edward’s stunned look stopped the priest mid-thought.
“Yes, the Vatican knew about your family. How? I am not sure, but I assume their local priest learned of their abilities and reported to his arch diocese, and they reported up and so on and so on… Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, they sent for William and trained him on the use of the artifacts, but also how to adapt and expand them. The story your grandfather told me is the original book only had five prayers in it. Over the last however many generations, pages have been added as new prayers were created. The skills, ‘the how’s and what’s’, were passed down from generation to generation through extensive training that begins as soon as a child shows the ability to ‘see’, or what your grandfather called ‘ascension’.”
Father Murray took his seat across from the wide-eyed Edward. “Since your father never had the chance to pass this on to you, I will have to fill in in that regard. I will not claim to replace how he would have taught you, but upon his passing I had to take up the cause, and I think I know enough to help point you in the right direction. Now if you can fix us both another cup of coffee, I can fortify it a little and we can get started.”
20
Edward prepared another cup of coffee for Father Murray and himself. The cool rain outside and the events of the last several days created an air of discomfort. The warmth of the coffee helped Edward feel a little better.
Appreciative of the second cup, Father Murray added a little of his special sauce to both and asked, “Have you read any in the book?”
“A little. It looks like a book of random prayers.”
“Well, you aren’t wrong. They are prayers. and they are in there in a random order,” said Father Murray. “Added to for over 300 years. Tell me. Is there one tool I can give you that will do everything you need no matter what it is you have to fix?”
Edward looked back at him with a quizzical expression.
“Humor me. I have a point.”
Edward considered the question. His humorous side wanted to say, “Yes, a hammer. You can bang anything into shape or destroy it to the point no one cares,” but he knew what Father Murray was getting at. “No. For most jobs you need a few.”
He nodded in agreement and said, “And others you need specialized tools. Now consider this: are there problems that exist today the tools of a long time ago cannot solve?”
The answer was obvious to Edward, but he lets his smart-ass answer escape. “Well, I wanted to answer the first question with… a hammer. You can use a hammer to bang anything into shape and if that doesn’t work you can destroy what you are trying to fix to where you don’t care anymore. Same answer could apply now. If a piece of modern technology gives you a problem, you could use a hammer to destroy it and not worry about it anymore.”
Father Murray showed an amused smile. The same smile he would make at a child asking if Santa Claus visited Jesus during the Christmas Day Mass. “Well yes, I guess you could, but that isn’t fixing things, is it? But I assume you got my point. Things change, and you need new solutions or… eh… new tools to solve these new problems. Just like that book. Think of that book as your tool box. It has a prayer in there for every unique problem you face. Those before you have created new prayers and added to it when they faced problems the old ones did not handle.”
Edward flipped through the book. When he looked through it on Saturday, he saw page after page of prayers in various handwritings, not one labeled with the author or purpose. This begged the question. “How do I know what prayer to use for what?”
“That’s what you have me for. I think first we need to go over some rules. And these are extremely important.” The stern look on the normally cheerful man drove the seriousness of the message home.
“First, never let either the cross or the book out of your sight.
“Second, never damage either of them, especially the cross. I am not sure which object is the source of most power, but I can tell you they do not work without the other. With the story of the origin of the cross, I believe it holds most of the power.” Father Murray paused when he realized he omitted a detail. “I haven’t told you about that yet, have I?”
“Told me what?” asked Edward.
“Where the cross came from.”
“No.” Edward looked at the cross while taking a guess. “Let me guess. It’s made from the cross Christ was crucified on?”
Father Murray replied, “That is what they say.”
Edward’s body language became nervous as he placed the cross on the table with great care.
“I don’t know if it’s true or not. There have been rumors around for centuries that they found the cross during one of the many Crusades and the church acquired it. What your grandfather told me is they created twelve identical crosses from the wood of the crucifix and sent one to each spiritual site.
“Third, when you read from the book you must do so with purpose. Believe in what you are doing and read with conviction. That is what I was trying to force you to do last night. Just reading the words will do nothing. You must believe with your heart and spirit.
“The last rule is the most important. Edward. I cannot emphasis this enough. Not every prayer in the book worked. Some completely backfired.” Father Murray opened the book and then turned it around. With the conviction of God himself Father Murray looked up at Edward and said, “Never read it turned like this.”
Edward looked down at the book and realized it was upside down to him, but there was text on the opposing page right side up. He asked, “What are these prayers father?”
“These are dangerous. Not only did they not work, they had dangerous outcomes. We logged them in here this way, so we know what not to do.” Before Edward could say anything, Father Murray said, “And yes. I made a mistake once with horrible consequences. I logged it, so I would never repeat it.”
Father Murray saw Edward’s eyes scanning across the lines of the prayer facing him and slammed the book shut with a slap. He reissued his warning, “You can’t even read them to yourself. They are not to be messed with. Understand?”
Edward wanted to ask why again, but he saw the serious expression on Father Murray’s face and answered with a simple, “Yes, Father.”
“Good. Are you ready for homework?”
21
“All right. All right, everyone. Let’s settle down. Who did the reading last night?” Edward scanned the class and saw many attentive faces.
“Good. Who has questions?” A few hands sprung up throughout the class. Edward picked one. “Laura.”
“Is it me or is everyone insane?” Laura Robinson asked from the middle of the room.
“I hope you are talking about the book and not your classmates. Care to expand on that observation for the rest of us?”
A smattering of laughter filled the room.
“Ahab, Pip, Gabriel. Ishmael describes them as being insane,” Laura explained.
“Oh, that.” Edward pondered how to explain this without spoiling the entire book. Melville was not the most complicated read, but can confuse someone if they only read the words.
“Let me give a simple answer. The true answer will explain itself when you read more, but I will remind you of one thing. When you read a book told through the eyes of a single person, a narrator, you are seeing their perception. As the reader, take that into account with everything else you read as you form your opinion.” Edward walked towards his desk, but turned back to the class to add, “… and no, they are not all crazy. Some are brillia
nt. Any more questions?”
Silence filled the classroom. No hands raised or inquisitive looks adorning the scholarly faces. Edward pulled a stack of papers from his brown cracked leather satchel and announced, “Good, then you won’t mind taking this quiz, now will you?”
The hush turned into a collective groan as Edward handed the front row copies of the dreaded quiz. As many things that are different in this school, the groans were a familiar sound. He resisted the smile which tried to sprout upon his face. “You know the drill. Take one and pass the rest back. Put any extras on the back table.”
Edward watched the students consider the questions his quiz posed to them. Each student was quietly focused on their own paper. No sneaky attempts to look at another student’s paper. Through his career he had seen many attempts. They ranged from the covert quick glance to the obvious swapping of tests. Edward remembered one creative try that took rather sophisticated planning. Someone paid the smartest kid in class to tap his foot in code for each question. One tap for A, two for B, and so on. Another reason he hated standardized multiple-choice tests. After the fourth question he noticed the tapping, but listened for a little longer. When he noticed the pattern, he put a stop to it and collected the test. The class had an old-fashioned fill-in-the-blanks style test the next day. What always struck him about that attempt was, if they put the effort it took to come up with this into studying, they would have been able to pass the test on their own.
Several students completed their tests and place them face down on the desk. The image invoked a curious thought about the conversation he’d had with Father Murray the prior day. I wonder if he will give me a test? Before he’d left, Father Murray retrieved three books from his car and instructed Edward to study them.
The first book was Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. Father Murray said this would give him the spiritual conviction to do God’s will.
The second was The Catholic Treasury and Prayers. Father Murray said this would be the most difficult to study. Edward was not to memorize the prayers. Instead he was to learn their meaning and understand the why and how of the prayer. The mechanics. This would teach him the proper way to develop his own when the time came.
The third was the most surprising. Instead of an official church-endorsed text, it was just the common Encyclopedia of Saints that you could find in any storefront or online bookstore. Edward asked Father Murray about it, but he explained that they declared new saints all the time. He needed to keep an updated guide. Father Murray told him every saint had a purpose. He needed Edward to understand and believe in that purpose.
Edward promised Father Murray he would study every night. The intensity of his voice during the request matched the glare of his eyes. This was no ordinary or casual request. When Edward agreed, Father Murray reiterated one last time, “This is a responsibility you cannot take lightly. Too much depends on it. More than you can understand at this point.”
The last student turned over their quiz. Edward walked through the rows collecting the papers. To him, quizzes were both a way to measure how much his students were retaining, but also a teaching aid. “How does everyone think they did?”
A small groan, smaller than the one that accompanied the announcement of the quiz itself, radiated around the room. He stacked them on his desk for grading later at home. “Let’s see how you did,” he said, and began to quiz the class. The reactions he saw from some students identified questions they believe they missed, while an air of confidence grew around others realizing questions they answered correctly.
They did a quick reading of a section he picked out to reinforce the topic he planned to cover for the next few days. The whole class took part. The first few days, there were a few quiet students in each class. Eventually everyone became acclimated to his interactive approach. This was a goal of Edward’s. He found everyone learned better when asking questions and talking about the topic than just listening. He hated the thought of anyone afraid to ask questions, but could honestly say that did not exist here.
He assigned that night’s reading just in time for the bell to ring. The students packed up with haste and headed to their next class. Well, most of the students did. A small group of three meandered in the back. Once most of the students had left, they made their way forward with a question. “Mr. Meyer?”
“Yes, Daniel. What is it?”
“Can we ask you a question?”
“You just did.” Edward’s try at humor only received a half smile. “But of course. What is it?”
“We heard about the other night. So, you are the guy?”
Edward expected a question on something discussed in class or the reading. It only took him a second or two to recognize Daniel’s last name, Ruten. Martin Ruten was one of the group that went out with Sheriff Tillingsly that night. Daniel must be his son.
The three boys stared at him with an idolizing gaze that made Edward uncomfortable. “Look guys. I am not sure what you heard. I’m just your teacher. That’s it.”
“Oh, come on, Mr. Meyer. We heard how you took care of those creatures.”
A small town was a breeding ground for gossip that can build up legends or tear them down. Edward knew this, and tried to temper any aggrandizing of the events. “I was there, that is all. Father Murray told me what to do. It was really all him.”
Students for his next class started to come in, causing the three to take a panicked glance at the clock. They hurried for the door, but not before Christopher said, “Embrace it Mr. Meyer. Your family is famous around here.”
Famous is not something Edward wanted. He wanted to be normal.
Once home, Edward fixed his famous hotdog surprise for dinner. It was nothing fancy, just hotdogs in oversized buns. The surprise part was just the name Sarah gave it when she was eight years old. Edward was rushing to get home one night and stopped at the store for hotdog buns. In a hurry and not paying attention, he grabbed hoagie rows. He didn’t notice until Karen announced she’d lost the hot dog in the bun when she fixed one for Sarah. They had a good laugh. Sarah said, “Surprised there is a hot dog in there,” and it stuck from that point forward.
After dinner he took a moment to clean the kitchen and then settled down at his makeshift office desk. To his right, the stack of quizzes that needed to be graded. To his left, the books he promised and an old friend he would learn. He picked the quizzes and worked through the repetitive task of reading the answers to the same five questions over and over.
Occasionally he heard the words of Father Murray echoing through his head as he read an answer. He forced his way through the stack. He felt both a sense of accomplishment and heavy fatigue when he checked the clock. It read just after one in the morning. He should head upstairs for bed, but he’d made a promise. He reached over and grabbed Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola and opened to the page he’d left off reading.
22
The ringing of Edward’s phone startled him, and he jerked awake, grasping at the book falling from his lap, grabbing it before it reached the floor. He slapped around on the desk for his phone and pulled it to his ear. His groggy voice answered, “H…ello?”
An agitated Father Murray responded from the other side of the call. “Edward, thank god I got you. I need you to come with me.”
“What? What are you talking about Father? It’s…” Edward looked at his phone. “Father, it is 2:13 in the morning.”
“Yes, I know. It is an emergency. I will be there in a few minutes.” The call ended before Edward could respond.
Edward got up and headed out the porch to wait on Father Murray to see what this was all about. The damp chill of the night cut straight through to his bones. He turned to go inside for a jacket when Father Murray pulled up behind him.
“Get in quick!” Father Murray called through the open passenger window.
Edward jogged down the steps toward the side of the car. His children were upstairs sleeping, and he didn’t want to yell back-and
-forth and chance waking them.
“What is going on?
“Come, come quick. We need to get to the Kirkland farm.” Father Murray reached over and pushed the passenger door open.
“Wait, Father. Please explain what is going on,” Edward insisted. The old priest was moving and talking rapidly. He ignored each plea Edward made for an explanation.
“Get in,” Father Murray said while leaning across the seat of his road yacht Cadillac. He looked up at Edward and asked, “Do you have the cross and book?”
Edward answered, “No.”
“Never let them out of sight! Go fetch them, right now.”
He did as he was ordered and sprinted up the steps and back inside. He grabbed both objects from the dining room table where they sat next to the books he was studying when he fell asleep.
The trip into the house gave him the moment he needed. If Father Murray was here at this hour asking about the cross and book, it must be one of those kinds of emergencies. He pulled the door closed behind and locked it, then hopped into the passenger side of the Caddy. Without a word, Father Murray accelerated down the dirt drive.
23
Either the old suspension or Father Murray’s ability behind the wheel caused the oversized car to wander from side to side, maybe it was both. Edward hoped his driving would improve once they reached the paved road, but that hope faded when it became more of a swerve at higher speeds.
“This will be difficult. You need to follow my lead.” Father Murray’s cell phone rang and interrupted him.
“Yes… yes… We are on our way. Should be there in just a few minutes. Try to stay calm.” Father Murray slammed his old flip phone closed and dropped it on the seat beside him.
“The Kirklands are scared shitless. Pardon my language.”
“What are we walking into?”
“Remember the other night? I said some spirits are more dangerous and malicious than others. The one we are going to fight is absolutely more dangerous. It’s not lost. Oh no. This one is a type who is here to just cause trouble. Evil’s little helpers is what your grandfather called them. It is ok to feel afraid when you see them for the first time. The first time your grandfather took me to go deal with one my knees almost buckled on me.”