by Michael Todd
No. Absolutely not. Get the fuck out of here. Go do something inside, Astaroth barked.
He relented and pushed his seat back. “I just remembered I had a few things to do inside. Catherine, it is a pleasure, as always. Damian…”
They nodded to one another as he grabbed his plate and turned slowly toward the house. Before he entered, he glanced back and noticed that they hadn’t even watched him leave.
Catherine leaned back in her chair, still holding her mug. She grinned contentedly as she closed her eyes and let the sun shimmer over her skin. “I think my mother feels so much better now that she finally told you about her past. She is back to her old self again.”
Damian chuckled. “It was a shock, but I am glad she told me. It makes more sense now. So, what has she been up to? I haven’t seen her morning sweeping routine.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “She swept? That must have been during the hostile takeover.”
He thought about for a second. “I suppose, it was, yes.”
“That figures. No, she has been inside doing what she always has done. She meditates, she prays, and she reads. My mother has probably read a million books by now. She is constantly reading. It’s nice, though. I got my love of knowledge from her.”
He leaned his head to the side and regarded her curiously. “What was it like having a mother who was Damned?”
“Interesting,” Catherine laughed loudly. “But I don’t know how it was different. We didn’t have a lot of friends and no extra family, but we did everything together. There were times when he would exhaust her, and on those days, we would curl up in her bed and watch ridiculous British romantic comedies and gossip about the queen. The only thing that was hard was not fully understanding as a little girl. That constant fear that your mummy would go on a mission and never come back.”
Damian frowned. “I’m sure that was incredibly difficult to understand. Yes. What about your father? What was he like?”
She looked thoughtful, her cheeks still rosy. “From what I remember, he was a jolly man. Always dancing, always laughing, and so in love with my mother. She was one of the few Damned in history to get pregnant and have the pregnancy come to term. That was probably because Gabriel put a ribbon of protection around me. My mother had been Damned since she was eighteen. That was when she went to work with the church. She met my father through them—he was an accountant for the church.”
He loved to listen to the story of Rose. “When did he pass?”
Catherine sighed. “When I was six. My mother had gone on a mission with the church and demons attacked us in our home. He died protecting me. That was when the church brought us here. A protective place of sorts. A blessed place.”
Damian looked around. “Oh, so you grew up here, right here in this little community.”
“I did! I’ve been in your home more times than I can count. The priests who filtered through were always so lovely. And they would let me help with church chores and such and pay me too, now and then. Sometimes, it was really hard not having my dad and my mum away on missions a lot. So, it was nice to have someone to talk to. And when the place was vacant and I was here alone, Gabriel would come and sit right here on this patio. Sometimes, he would talk and sometimes, he would simply sit there in the night and make me feel safe enough to sleep.”
He shook his head, astounded by it all. “You have a much more colorful extended family than I did, that’s for sure.”
Catherine laughed and broke the sadness. “Very true. As an adult, I fully understand it all now, but you know children—living in a fantastical world and hoping for a happy ending.”
“Happy endings are nice, at least in theory,” he replied.
She put down her cup. “How about you? What do you do outside of hunting demons?”
“Ohhhh,” he groaned and stretched. “Not too much considering time seems to fly by in my life.”
“I’m sure. The church has a tendency to keep people busy. At least that has been my experience.”
“Very true,” he replied and emptied his cup. “I would say any spare time I have is spent either working with Max on his skills or reading. I am an avid reader.”
Excitement flashed in her blue eyes. “Really? I love reading. What do you read?”
“So many things. While I do love a history book, I would say that for pure enjoyment, I love to read the classics. Anna Karenina, To Kill a Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and so on.”
Ravi groaned. I’m so glad we don’t have extra time on our hands.
Damian ignored her. Catherine closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “I love the classics. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, E.M. Foster—they speak to the times. And I especially love Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man.”
He tapped his finger on the table. “Yes! What an amazing breakthrough story. It really speaks to the heart of the identity of African American culture during that time period. Have you read Mrs. Dalloway?”
She smacked her hand on the table, her mouth open. “Only a dozen times. It speaks to the past but also the present. Mental Illness, PTSD, and social pressures of women. I love it.”
Her cup empty, she looked at Damian’s. “We seem to be done with our drinks. Would you like a cup of tea as I refill? I believe it is a stark English Breakfast.”
He nodded. “That would be perfect. I love tea, and although the flavored ones are nice on occasion, a Breakfast or straight black is my favorite.”
“An American priest with the tastes of a true Englishman. Perfect.” She chuckled. “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried inside and Ravi immediately gave him a hard time. I knew somewhere in there you were more than only a priest. You actually have a bit of man in you.
Damian rolled his eyes. What are you talking about? I am enjoying tea with someone with many common tastes. A friend. Why is it so hard to believe a man can be friends with a woman without it being romantic?
Because they always get defensive like you are right now. She giggled.
Catherine returned with two mugs, hers and a fresh one for Damian. She handed his over and took her seat. “I have an idea. Let’s play a game. My mother used to play this with me when I was a child. We go back and forth and quote our favorite lines from books and try to guess which it is from.”
He took a sip of his tea. “I think that sounds fantastic. You start.”
She rubbed her hands together. “All right. Let’s see. Yes. I have one.” She straightened and began to speak, saying the line as if she were an actor in a play. “‘The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars…’”
Damian smiled. “You have a very good memory. That is obviously On the Road, by Jack Kerouac.”
“That was an easy one. I won’t be so easy on you next time. Your turn.”
He tapped his chin before he cleared his throat. “‘Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs.’”
Catherine pursed her lips. “I know this…”
“Ehhh.” He laughed.
“No, no, I know this.” She waved her hands. “Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte.”
“Precisely!”
The time went by with the two of them laughing, guessing books, talking about moments of retrospection in their lives, and simply enjoying a few moments of peace. Max, once he’d reorganized his bookshelves, ironed his shirts, and cleaned the kitchen, finally ventured outside again. As he exited the house, he was met with gales of laughter. He approached quietly and cleared his throat.
They looked up and smiled and he waved uncomfortably. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I thought, Damian, you would like to know that it’s nearly noon.”
The priest’s eyes widened and he looked at his watch. “Wow, time has flown right past, ha
sn’t it? I guess that happens when you are having so much fun.”
Catherine raised her tea mug. “Indeed. I had no idea it was that time either. Mum will want some lunch soon.”
Damian smiled warmly at her. “Dear Catherine, this has been a real treat. Thank you so much for keeping me company and talking about books. I hope that we can do this again sometime. I do have to go, though, as we have a couple of things we need to take care of.”
She patted his hand. “Thank you as well. It’s nice to talk about something other than the end of the world every now and then. You guys have a good rest of your day and stay safe.”
The priest stood as she collected the mugs and headed inside. He turned and joined Max, who stood and waited for him in the walkway to the front door. Ravi cleared her throat. Are you sure you didn’t want to sweep her in your arms and give her a classic book-style kiss?
Don’t start, he groaned.
The demon giggled. But you quoted books together. It’s the ultimate aphrodisiac. Unless, of course, the church has robbed you of that as well. But from the feeling in your chest, I would say you are still capable of that emotion.
I would ask you to please stay out of my emotions. Is nothing sacred? he snapped.
Ravi was laughing at that point. No. Nothing is sacred when I have to live cramped up in here.
When the door was shut, Damian looked at Max who stood there and stared at him with a smirk. As if he knew Ravi was already giving him a tough time, he joined the fun. “That was more conversation than I think you’ve ever had with someone.”
Damian narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to start now too?”
Max held back a laugh, his cheeks rosy. “No, no. What you do with your precious priest heart is between you and Him.”
He rolled his eyes. “I will say this for you and for the annoying voice in my head. If you don’t knock it off, I will make sure that all the scotch is poured down the drain, and suddenly, all the black priest pants in this house are expertly mended four inches shorter.”
He stormed off and the younger man laughed uproariously behind him.
Chapter Fifteen
Max removed a sheet of folded lined paper from his pocket and ran his finger down it. He looked through the windshield at the dirty, crumbling exterior of the old mill house. “This is the place listed in the new assignment. I’m surprised they would choose something so run down.”
Damian shook his head. “I’m not. When they took Katie, it was underground in an old collapsing parking garage. They really don’t care as long as they can get through it undisturbed.”
The trainee shoved the paper back in his pocket and the two left the truck. Quietly, they moved around to open the side door and retrieve whatever gear they would need. Both took pistols and Max slid his daggers into the new holsters he had purchased after working with the mercs. Damian slid a short knife down into the sheath on his calf and closed the door.
They crept cautiously to the edge of the cliff on which they had parked. It was overgrown and covered in broken glass and trash, but it gave them a perfect view of the mill while still being able to remain under cover. Various members of the cult arrived, dropped off by dark-tinted cars and escorted through the door by guards.
“Do they look the same as last time you saw them?” Max whispered.
He nodded and a choking sensation pulled at his throat. “They do. Same robes, same demon stares. The only thing that has changed is their experience level. Several years have passed. They are bound to have learned something.”
“You never know. People like this tend to think they know everything.”
Damian shook his head. “If they hadn’t learned, they would have been exterminated by now.”
The sound of another car’s tires rolling over the gravel drew their attention to the left. An older, slightly rusted, white conversion van trundled down the narrow hilly entrance to the mill. Max groaned. “Why, in all these scenarios, does the bad guy always have some creepy rapey van? It’s like they aren’t for real until they have one.”
The vehicle eased to a stop at the entrance. Two cult members exited the front and hurried to the back as the guards looked around to make sure no one was watching. The back door flew open and a girl who was tied up and gagged bounded out. They could hear her whimpers even from high ground.
The two men grabbed her and threw her down before they yanked the blindfold over her eyes. She whipped her body furiously in an attempt to escape but they were strong. She was powerless to resist as they dragged her from the van and inside the building.
Damian gritted his teeth and leaned back. “These sonsofbitches always pick on the same kind of person—some young, unexpecting girl. It makes me fucking sick to my stomach. Who knows how many girls are out there who weren’t as lucky as Katie? How many never even made it through the ceremony, their bodies stashed in some old warehouse to rot away while their families search for them.”
Max put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. We’ll save her and we’ll send a message to the rest of them. They aren’t safe, and they never will be.”
He glanced at him and nodded, then realized that the trainee not only acted older and more experienced, but he looked the part too—a five o’clock shadow, dark eyes, and no sign of fear. Whatever he was doing and whatever his demon was teaching him, it was definitely working. He was no longer the young kid who had stumbled into his house, cursing and shaking in his boots.
They moved back into their surveillance positions and watched as the last of the cult members arrived and entered. One of the guards locked the door and slid the key into his right front pocket. Three guards were present—two at the door and the other guarding the side closest to them. He had a view of the main street from there, but that wasn’t where they would come from.
Satisfied that there would be no new arrivals, Damian and Max descended the hill and made sure to remain hidden in the overgrowth. The younger man headed for the edge directly in front of the guard on the side while Damian moved to the right and the two guards at the front of the building. He nodded at Max through the brush.
Astaroth spoke in a clear and steady tone. When you raise the gun, don’t let too much show. Remember to breathe and let your breath out as you pull the trigger.
Got it, Max replied and didn’t even consider not listening.
In his own cover, Damian held his breath and hoped beyond hope that the trainee’s aim had improved somewhat since the last time. Ravi was equally as nervous. This kid better buckle up, grab his tidy sacks, and make this shot.
His what? he asked and struggled to not laugh.
Ravi shrugged. You know. The tidy sacks. The penis boobies, the nargberries, crotch nuggets, cum chimes. Those nickel ticklers, cock beans, kangaroo apples. His fucking berries, man. The balls.
He wheezed slightly with the effort to keep it in. Right, I got you.
A loud bang rang out and echoed off the sides of the metal building. Before the men in the front could react, the guard at the side catapulted into the side of the building. The man’s eyes rolled back and the demon inside him shrilled as the body landed hard.
Max and Damian wasted no time. They thrust from cover, holstered their guns, and drew their crosses out. At the bottom, they held their crosses before them and walked steadily forward as they chanted the exorcism prayer in perfect unity. The guards stopped in their tracks and looked at one another in confusion. As they moved to position their weapons, the one on the right clutched his chest and tilted his head back. A growling scream emerged from his throat and he dropped instantly to writhe and growl, locked in the internal struggle.
The other stared with wide eyes as the demon rose from his partner and exploded in a flash of light and left the human sprawled and unconscious at his feet. With a panicked expression, he looked at the approaching priests, who smiled. “Amen.”
The Damned jerked wildly and fell hard. His demon fought briefly but soon followed the example of its comra
de. Two of the three had been successfully exorcised but the priests hadn’t seen any way around killing the first if they wanted a chance at the others. Both felt terrible about it, but it was part of the game.
Without delay, they moved quickly to the door and opened it enough to slide inside the dark room. Chanting swelled from the room on the right. Damian signaled to Max to follow him and they crept to the door and peeked cautiously into the room. To the left, the girl, still gagged, was tied to a pole. She whimpered and flicked her head from side to side. Her eyes widened when she saw them.
Damian put his fingers to his lips and turned to his companion. “Are you ready?” he whispered.
The younger man gritted his teeth. “More than ready.”
They scuttled through the doorway in a half-crouch and swung to the right to duck behind a stack of old dirty crates from where they could observe the cult. The participants were gathered around a circle of black and red candles that dripped wax over the cement floor. In the center of the circle, an array of demonic symbols had been painted on the concrete in red. It was exactly like it had been when Damian had seen them last. It was almost Déjà vu.
He could still see that night so clearly in his head. The crumbling cement ceilings and walls and the smell of candles and burning hair. Chants and moans resounded all around them. Even the people looked the same, draped in their long black capes with symbols drawn on their skin and their minds completely engrossed in the magic they made.
The girl wore that same scared look that Katie had that night—a look that told every story of every victim he had seen before and since that night. A longing for escape, for rescue, and a confusion that was laced with anger and innocence at the same time. The more he looked at her, the angrier he felt. The world would not have survived without Katie, but that didn’t make what happened to her any more right or justifiable.