by Michael Todd
Interesting. Why would the cardinal have one, then?
Ravi groaned loudly. Who knows, Sherlock? All I know is that it’s hotter than a mammoth’s balls in here, dusty enough to be riding a camel through this bitch, and not at all impressive. We have remains like this all over hell. Right now, what we should do is peruse the shops in Rome, buy some amazing clothes, and sip espresso at a café on the street.
He couldn’t help but smirk. She was pouting, he knew. Come on, take in the scenery. Learn something about the planet and species that your kind is trying to exterminate.
The demon was not enthusiastic. First, they won’t exterminate you. They’ll use you as slaves. Second, I would learn about you if you would take me somewhere like a museum with air conditioning. I thought it was supposed to be almost fall. What is this hot-ass weather? I like hot, don’t get me wrong, but not when I’m all balled up inside you. I’m over here trying to keep you hydrated, and you’re over there worried about a creepy mask and some red stone. Get your shit together here, priest. I don’t have forever. Human bodies give out pretty fast.
Damian shook his head in silent protest. Good to know I’m simply another body for you.
So damn sensitive. Food. I need food and water…and whiskey. Lots of whiskey.
He brushed her demands aside. We’ll get there. Give me a second to figure all this out.
Whatever. I’ll hide in the shadow of your pancreas. Call me when it’s over.
The priest jumped slightly when he felt a pinching sensation in his body. After a quick look at his companion, who was still absorbed on the other side of the room, he snapped a photo of the relic with his phone. He pulled up a confidential email and wrote a message to Wally. He tried to be as generic as possible in case someone intercepted it.
“Wally. Found this relic in Pompeii down the fourth row and all the way at the back. Look at the symbols and the stone. It looks very familiar to me. What do you think? Be in touch soon. –Damian.”
“What are you doing over here?” Max asked as he appeared beside him.
“Just admiring an ancient woman’s beauty routine.” Damian shoved his phone into his pocket.
He put his arm around the young man’s shoulder and walked him out of the structure so he wouldn’t see the etched signs on the mask. He knew he would find them familiar, and that would make keeping the secret much more difficult. The young man could tell something was going on, but he didn’t push for answers.
Besides, his demon was too busy yacking about history. I can’t believe he didn’t bring up the most current outbreak of terrorists. It gravely affected his country, after all.
Max was more than a little confused. What did?
Good Lord, kid, we need to put you back through school. I don’t mean training, either. I mean elementary school. Niagara Falls was created when Lucifer came down and fought the angel Gabriel. I watched that shit from a portal. He slammed Gabriel into the ground, creating the hole, and the water was already flowing in that direction. Voila, Niagara Falls. Eventually, God sent an army and chased Lucifer back. That was the last time he attempted to walk on Earth.
The trainee glanced at his mentor. “My demon says that a battle between Gabriel and the devil created Niagara Falls. He said Lucifer slammed the angel into the ground over and over and created the hole, and the water flowed down to that point.”
Damian nodded, impressed. “I’m not surprised in the least. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were many seemingly natural features on Earth created by these wars. They have raged for millennia, and the battles were terrible. They still are. We now have things like skyscrapers to get in the way.”
Max crossed his arms. “You know who I think is a demon?”
The priest held the young man’s gaze, not sure what to expect.
“Mr. Rogers. Seriously, that man is terrifying. Or was. With the flip of his shoe, those creepy-ass puppets, and the trolley. I know that was a trolley to hell. No one will ever be able to convince me differently. He probably held cult gatherings in that freaking tree—the one with the puppet that came out.”
Damian threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I applaud your imagination, but I must firmly disagree. If anything, Mr. Rogers was a literal angel trying to make the world a better place.”
His pocket vibrated, and he reached in to pull out his phone. The Secretary’s name flashed on the screen. He pushed Max toward one of the other structures. “Go memorize some more information while I take this phone call. And don’t touch or take anything. I don’t want to have to explain that to the Wise Men.”
Max glared at him as he walked away. “I’m not a child.”
The priest flipped his hands in dismissal and put the phone to his ear. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite person whom I know absolutely nothing about. What can I do for you on this lovely day?”
The Secretary cleared her throat, obviously holding back a laugh. “I hate to interrupt your romp through Pompeii but…”
Chapter Four
Damian looked around for any signs of a drone or a camera. “I still don’t know how you do it, but it’s a little creepy, sister.”
She sighed. “While you’re in Rome, would you like your next assignment?”
“I would not,” he said plainly.
The Secretary ignored him. “Your next mission is to—”
The priest cut in. “So, do you live near me, or are you in a spaceship a light year away?”
She continued, “There is a church on the—”
“Or are you even alive? Are you actually a computer like the one in that one movie where the guy fell in love with his AI? Do you have a human boyfriend?”
The woman cleared her throat. “This parish has undergone major—”
“I’m picturing you right now as an Apple, but if I’m wrong, please forgive me. You could easily be custom-built, too. I bet you have red flashing lights on the front, and when you get angry, they get redder—”
“Damian!” the Secretary yelled.
He snickered. “They got redder, didn’t they?”
“Are you ready to listen?” She released a deep sigh.
Damian put his thumb up in the air and waited for her response.
“Good, let’s get to it then,” she responded.
“Fine. What do you have for me?” He hung his head in defeat.
A suppressed chuckle now hovered beneath her crisp English tone. “There is a parish in the Italian countryside, and the leaders have been infected. We’re not sure at this time if they’re retrievable, but we hope they are. They’ve quietly turned the congregation one at a time to create something of an infected army. They’re believed to actually meet at the church late at night to turn the next set of victims. Since it’s the only church in a fifty-mile radius, there’s a constant stream of visitors to it. Actually, they’ve done one hell of a job keeping it secret for this long. They still hold their services, and they even had one of the deacons from the main church attend, and he never noticed. Not surprisingly, he was captured two nights later, and we haven’t heard from him since. Pictures have been taken of him at the church, so we know he’s alive, but we assume he’s now infected.”
Damian shivered. “This gives me a creepy vibe—a The Faculty kind of vibe. I feel as if they’re walking around like zombies, feeling fabulous and trying to recruit people into their cult.”
“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” she replied. “We need this stopped, and we need as many of them exorcised as possible. If you can find the head of the church, that would be fantastic. He hasn’t shown his face, and the underlings have run the show. On top of that, they all have a beautiful red glow to their eyes.”
The priest rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Are you Damned? I mean, for you to know so much, you’re either a computer or one of us. Well, the Wise Men aren’t Damned, but I’m pretty sure they’re immortal.”
“Will you take this assignment?” she asked dryly.
He groaned. �
��Of course, we’ll take the assignment, but I didn’t bring any of my gear with me. Apparently, the church doesn’t know what a vacation is.”
The Secretary’s voice went back to a business-like monotone. “You didn’t take a vacation, and you shouldn’t need anything other than your bible and your cross. That’s how you do things with this church. We’re not mercenaries, Damian, no matter how long you served on their teams.”
The priest merely whistled a cheerful tune.
“Be careful with your bullets and knives, Damian,” she whispered. “They see you, and you have already been warned.”
Damian faked a laugh. “What? What weapons? I have no idea what you’re talking about. We use force only when necessary, and in the form of our bare hands. You should see me rip a demon’s head off. You’d be incredibly impressed.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” she replied. “Besides, your little ‘running up the side of the church’ move was very popular with those watching. Acrobatics are frowned upon but not forbidden. Personally, all I saw was a showman, not a man of the cloth.”
He frowned. “You are mean, you know that? You’re a mean-spirited computer. Do you have settings? Because I think you need to dial back the sarcasm and push up the friendly setting at least twenty-five percent. If you are a human, then I know you worked at either the post office or the DMV before you joined the church. If not, you were that nun who smacked kids on the knuckles with rulers.”
“I…can…not…compute.”
The priest laughed. “Look at that. Either I broke her spirit, or I broke her hard drive. Either way, there’s a teeny sense of humor in there.”
The Secretary began typing, then paused. “I sent the information to your phone. An SUV will pull up. The driver will get out, and that is your car.”
“How will the driver get back?” he asked.
She didn’t respond. “If you need more information, you can try to ask for it. Most likely, though, I will merely send you computations from my server.”
Damian shook his head with a smirk. “You’re going to end up liking me. Mark my words. I grow on people.”
“That’s more than I can say for your choice in bowties today.”
Before he could respond, she had hung up. The priest pulled the phone from his ear, pouted, and looked at the information she had sent. He shoved the device in his pocket and turned toward the structure, where Max was studying the exhibits. “I need to send some spies to figure out who that woman is,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Damian ignored the two other tourists and stared at the young man, who was reading one of the informational plaques. He stopped beside him, tapped him on the shoulder, and motioned with his head to go outside. Max gave him a funny look. “Are you okay? Do you have a cramped neck?”
He rolled his eyes, grabbed the trainee by the arm, and dragged him from the building. He smiled at a couple walking by and lowered his head to whisper, “We have our next mission, a church in the Italian countryside. I have the coordinates for it. The leaders have been taken over, and are raising a creepy demon army by turning the congregation one at a time. We have to go in, free as many as we can, and attempt to find the head priest and save him as well.”
The younger man looked around. “Will we take the tour bus, or—”
A blacked-out SUV pulled up, and a man in a black suit and wearing sunglasses exited. The young man stared at him, his expression disbelieving. “Really? That’s so not suspicious.”
“I didn’t send him. The lady in the sky sent him.”
Max was confused. “The lady in the sky?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. Come on.”
Another text message came through saying that more information had been sent to a local church where a friend and priest worked. They should pick the information up from Father Trough before heading out. Damian took the keys from the driver, and they piled in. “Apparently, we need to make a stop first.”
The young man looked at Pompeii with sadness. “Man, I wanted to stay longer. But hey, I get to kick demon butt, so it’s not all that bad.”
“That’s right. We’re going to get down with it.”
Ravi snorted. Don’t ever say that again. You are embarrassing me. It’s like having a dad with a never-ending supply of dad jokes in my brain.
Damian chuckled. I got way more where that came from.
Exorcise me now.
They drove for twenty minutes and pulled up at a small church in the middle of a relatively modern town. Damian and Max got out and walked around to the back. Damian knocked on the door, and it flew open. The priest before them was in the uniform, and had wild hair that stuck out everywhere and large-rimmed glasses. He pushed the spectacles up his nose and blinked his huge magnified eyes at them.
Damian lifted his eyebrows. “Uh, Father Trough?”
He nodded and stood aside as they entered. They watched as he scurried about, taking short steps in his plain orthopedic shoes. “I have your information right here. Let me pull it from the stack. Demon hunting? Whew, that’s brave. I like the basement—nice and quiet.”
Slowly, the trainee turned his head toward Damian and gave him a pointed look. He smiled widely, liking Trough despite his being strange.
Astaroth groaned in Max’s head. How in all of Hades will the meatsacks beat the scale-backs in this war when they’re all a bunch of weirdos?
He pressed his lips together and tried not to laugh when Father Trough returned with a file. “Okay, yes…yes. This is the file she sent over. She said this is all you need.”
Damian took the file. “Thank you, Father.”
They walked to the door and turned back to see the priest whispering to himself. Damian pushed Max outside, and they hopped back into the vehicle. The older man opened the file and looked for the hours of the services. “Ah ha! Well, if we leave now, we can catch ourselves a little sermon. See what these fools are up to before we go on the attack.”
“Sounds good. Been a while since I sat through a service.”
Damian put the SUV in Drive. “It’s in Italian.”
He threw his hands up. “Of course it is. Of course.”
They followed the GPS to the location and found a large number of cars parked outside. It wasn’t a very big church, but Damian knew it would be filled to capacity. He turned to his companion. “This is recon. Keep your head down, and try not to look suspicious. If a red eye spots you, flash them back, so they think we’re with them. Got it?”
“This is like being a CIA agent,” Max said excitedly as he climbed out and followed his mentor inside.
They took their seats as the service was about to start. The main leader of the church did not come out. Instead, his second took the pulpit. Ravi groaned. I can’t believe I’m sitting through this. Seriously, aren’t I supposed to be like projectile vomiting, setting things on fire, and telling a priest to fuck me?
Damian tried to keep a straight face. Firstly, that’s a movie. Secondly, if that did happen, I would technically do it.
Oh, no. I just got that “fuck me” thing stuck in my head. Out! Out, evil image. She shivered.
Max put his hands in his lap and glanced at the congregants. He didn’t understand a word being said, because written or even spoken Latin was nothing like rapid-fire Italian. Astaroth chuckled. Great, not only are we in a church service, but they are speaking Italian. I feel like the first three rows should be the Godfather and his people. I’ve never seen so many Italian demons before. Slicked-back hair is still a thing, I see.
I feel like standing up and yelling, “Where is my cannoli?” Max suppressed a laugh.
In an Italian accent, Astaroth replied. I’ma gonna make-a him an offer he can’t-a refuse-a.
They went back and forth until the end of the service, when Damian grabbed his arm and the two of them snuck out before anyone could talk to them. They had seen red eyes staring at them like they were fresh meat, and didn’t want to blow their cover. The priest had no i
dea how strong any of the demons were, or if they could sense who they were.
They headed back down the road to a small village a few kilometers away. The priest parked and took his companion into a small café to have dinner and wait for nightfall. They ordered their food, and he tipped the waitress to give them some privacy.
Max leaned forward. “They’ll think we’re in the mob.”
Damian leaned forward. “The only people who think all Italians are mobsters are white people from America. I need more information on the church.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed Maps, turned on the speakerphone, and set it in the middle of the table.
She answered as she turned down her music. “Hey, Pops. You back from Rome already?”
He smiled. “You got my text.”
Her gum smacked as she chewed. “Sure did. Figured you were busy so I didn’t text back. What can I do for you?”
The priest took a bite of his sandwich. “I sent you a church and its coordinates, and I wondered if you could get me a layout or any information on it?”
Maps shuffled through some papers. “Yeah, I got that text. When do you need it?”
Damian chuckled. “Now, preferably, since we’re about to bust up a cult.”
She groaned. “I wish I could help. This place is off the map. It would take me two or three days to round up any information on it.”
He nodded. “Figured it was at least worth a try.”
“Yeah, sorry, Pops. Is the kid with you?”
Max lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not a kid. And I’m sitting right here.”
“Pops texted me earlier and said you’re making up cuss words now. What is your substitute for whore bath?” She laughed.
He didn’t skip a beat. “Maps.”
Both she and Damian burst out laughing. Maps clapped her hands. “Good job there, Maximus. You’re getting the hang of this. You might survive us after all. You kiddies have fun. Kick a demon in the balls for me, and I’ll see you when you get home.”
The priest, still chuckling, leaned forward. “Be safe. Talk soon.”