by Michael Todd
The young priest couldn’t talk. He merely stared at her with a look of panic. Damian crawled over to his other side and grabbed his free and bloodied hand to hold it tightly to his chest. “Come on, buddy. Come on, Astaroth! Fix him, goddammit!”
Abraham limped forward to place his hand on Damian’s shoulder and squeeze it tightly. The portal had shut, and all the demons were piles of ash on the ground. The only sound in the room was Damian screaming to Astaroth.
Epilogue
The flowers in the small garden on the patio were in full bloom. The breeze that circled waved them gently in a gentle movement that made them look as if they were dancing in their pots. Damian sat in a patio chair, his coffee close to his lips and his eyes focused intently on the bright violet of the petals. They were almost as wildly fantastic as the buds that had fluttered around him in the dream with Ravi.
A butterfly with the wings of the same color fluttered over and landed on his knee. He smiled and stuck his finger out, but it took flight once more, and his gaze shifted to his hands. Small white scars covered his knuckles and speckled his wrists. A slight ache triggered in his chest when he shifted to either side without thought.
There had been no noticeable physical injury to his chest, yet for days, he had groaned in agony in his bed. It had felt as if every ounce of blood that pumped through his heart was made of fire. They told him it was the residual magic from the wizard. The darkness fighting to enter his soul, but his body rejected it. Whatever the reason, it made him miserable, and it took more to come back from that than when he had been out for days.
A loud creaking noise drew Damian from his thoughts. His attention drifted to the corner house with the blue country curtains in the window and a pot of tea always on the stove. Catherine backed out of the door and looked over her shoulder at him with a very tired nod. He felt for her, that was for sure. Taking care of Rose couldn’t be easy.
She held the door as her mother grumbled and moved her little body forward on her crutches. The old lady smiled and tried to wave. “My dear sweet Damian. Good morning. I knew you would be out here.”
He moved to stand, but Catherine shook her head with a scowl. “Keep your butt in the chair. Those who were wizard-gripped or tossed like ragdolls can be taken care of by the others for now. I’m sure us healthy ones will have our day.”
She walked beside her mother, her hand out behind Rose’s back in case she lost her balance. Of course, Rose wouldn’t even consider it. Her leg was broken, and she had a tall blue cast up to her thigh. She plopped into the chair, breathing heavily, and handed Catherine the crutches before she grinned at Damian.
“I thought about wearing my miniskirt today, but Catherine said I’m too old.” She shrugged.
He laughed and winked at Catherine. “I see modesty has gone out the window now that you are out of the mercenary closet.”
Rose shook her head. “No, not out. I made a guest appearance, and thanks to that sweet Catholic priest—I can’t believe those words came out together like that. Anyway, thanks to Wally, I only have a broken leg. Had he not caught me, you might be carrying my brain around in a jar hooked up to a robot.”
Catherine rolled her eyes and poured her mother a cup of tea. “You’ve been watching those Cartoon Station shows again, haven’t you? Cartoons for adults.”
Rose winked at Damian. “Well, I’m an adult, right?”
Her daughter sneered. “More like a late adult/senior citizen.”
The old lady smiled at her and received one in return. She glanced at Damian’s hand where it rested on his leg with a postcard underneath. “Who is that from?”
He looked down and picked the postcard up. On the front was a deer on the beach in a Hawaiian shirt, holding a beer in one hand and corn on the cob in the other. Rose frowned. “Let me guess—that’s from Abraham.”
“Ding, ding, ding.” Damian laughed. “He got back to wherever it was he was going. He apparently wanted to tell me that I, quote, really know how to throw a motherfucking party. He also said I owe him one, which sucks. And he’d see me on the flip side, whatever that means.”
Rose giggled. “Hopefully not the flip side like we’ve faced. Oh, and Wally called me this morning. I almost forgot.”
Damian grinned. “Really? How is Father Rambo doing?”
She nodded. “Well, really well. Apparently, he got situated into his new post at the Vatican. He is no longer what he calls their ‘underground slave.’”
“Oh, yeah?” He laughed. “He always did feel like a prisoner down there in his secret lair. He hated that he got to see so many cool things and couldn’t share them with the world. I think the loneliness and lack of confidence finally got to the poor guy.”
Rose patted Damian’s knee. “I would have to agree with you. He is now running the Vatican’s artifact and reference curation. So, in other words, he is now the boss of whatever poor soul ends up in that box.”
Catherine yawned. “Personally, I think Wally has the coolest job out of all of us. Not only does he get to see historical relics and famous texts firsthand, but he also gets to know all the dirty little secrets.”
Damian snorted. “I’m sure that after his last bout of curiosity turned into an all-out war with three crazy priest-wizards, Wally will keep his nose to the grindstone and ignore the negative around him. Hopefully, he finds peace and happiness there, and a sense of pride in his work. I know we God-lovers think pride is a bad word, but for someone like Wally, it could be a gamechanger.”
Rose nodded astutely. “Agreed. We’ll have to take a family trip to the Vatican sometime and say hello to him.”
His gaze flicked to the side and he became quiet. Catherine stood and walked around the table, put her hands on his shoulders, and rubbed the tough knots that had built up. He drew a deep breath and tilted his head back to give her an appreciative grin. Still, it seemed almost too quiet out there, and something was definitely missing from the normal vibe of the place.
Catherine leaned forward to rest her chin on the top of his head. “You miss Max, don’t you?”
Damian didn’t say anything for a moment and allowed a smile to tug his face up. “It’s been a while since we sat out here, you know? I feel like it’s my fault.”
A voice echoed from the doorway. “Is he throwing a pity party again?”
He perked up and shifted so he could look toward his house. “I thought your wimpy ass would be stuck in bed forever. I figured you would be seeing the lights, talking to Jesus, and figuring that the end was near.”
Max rubbed his hand across the fresh thick white bandage taped like a patch over his throat. He put his hands on his crutches and stuck one leg out as he hobbled along. Catherine walked over and kissed him sweetly on the cheek before she drew a chair out for him. “I’m not used to seeing you in regular clothes.”
He smiled. “Get used to it. I’ve had a lot of time to think.” His voice was hoarse and raspy. “The church getup has been boxed and shipped. I’ve found my true calling, and it’s not being a priest.”
Damian glanced at his loose-fitting jeans with holes in the knees. On top, he sported a bright green t-shirt with a penguin dressed as a giraffe. He topped it all off with his ageless choice of shoes—black and white Chuck Taylors. In that outfit, he looked like a regular young guy, and Damian was really happy to see it.
Max breathed deeply through his nose. “I got really tired of staring at that weird painting in my room. The one that looks like Jesus is driving an old RV? And the dog in the passenger seat looks like a small T-Rex. I don’t get it. Is that eclectic art? Because the date in the corner says like thirty years ago.”
“It’s because you don’t have an artistic bone in your body,” Maps accused him as she exited the house with two cups of coffee. “And absolutely zero ability to move fast anymore.”
They all laughed, and Rose shook her finger at him. “I know what painting you are talking about. Father Brass painted that. He loved to paint, but God, he was te
rrible at it. I think that particular one was supposed to be Jesus on the Arc, floating in a sea of clouds.”
Max shook his head. “Oh, man, he was way off the mark.”
Catherine caught his wrist. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I keep getting distracted by Mom-Zilla over here. Did you ever hear from the London mercs?”
He smiled and nodded. “I did, I did. And they said when I am all healed and the stitches are out of my neck, I am more than welcome to join them, so I have a home now. I’ll miss the church for sure, but I know my calling is somewhere else.”
Maps took his hand and they shared a sweet look. “And he’ll be close to me, so whenever he takes a dive into any demon claws, I will take care of him. I’ll have plenty of time on my hands now that I am no longer in the business. The curating job at the museum was a nice add-on to the negotiations to get rid of all of the stuff I had in that apartment. I don’t need the money now, but I don’t want to be away from the history.”
She looked at Damian and nodded. “How about you, Damian? Are you staying with the church? Have you made up your mind yet? I know it’s probably a huge decision for you.”
He sipped his coffee and set the cup down. “I’m always with the church. I don’t think that after this many years, I could possibly part ways with it. They have their fair share of issues, but they have started to flush things out like the cardinal said they would. But that being said, I think in the end, we all know I am more than an errand boy.”
Max drew his brows together as he stirred his coffee. “Oh, yeah, whatever happened to the cardinal? Did he go back to the Vatican?”
Damian shook his head. “From what I heard, he moved on to wherever we go from here. As soon as the wizards were defeated, it was like he could feel the release. I’m sure that after all of those years, all that fear and guilt, he was ready to move on. But how grand would it be to die in one of those secret sanctuaries and be personally escorted to heaven by Gabriel? Amazing.”
Catherine sat in the chair beside her mother. “I think I might miss that silver-haired angel.”
Rose snorted. “Please. He is the king of fucking riddles. I never understood it. Just give it to me straight. Some of them I never figured out, so I hope none of them was the secret to immortality.”
Maps tilted her head quizzically at Damian. “So, no mercs, no specific tied-down position with the church… You gonna simply vacay with Abraham?”
He almost spat his coffee out. “Lord, no. I don’t want there to be any questions when it’s my turn at the Pearly Gates. No, I’ll probably see what help is needed around the globe for short-term assignments, and drop in and see some friends. I simply want to find my spot.”
Max chuckled. “Or maybe you’ll walk around all wicked in a trench coat with special metal crosses and a long-barrel pistol. Just taking down the demons all over the world. Cowboy-priest style.”
A smirk moved over Damian’s lips and his eyes flashed red. “Maybe.”
Damian stayed out in the courtyard after everyone else had left. A bit of sun had crept over the wall, and he raised his face to it now, eyes closed. Ravi had decided to take a nap, so he was as alone as he ever got.
As he was basking in the peace of the moment, a gentle wind stirred around him, and when finally he opened his eyes, Gabriel stood in front of him, grinning.
Damian started. “How long have you been there?”
“Not long.”
The priest smiled at the angel. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Gabriel chuckled. “Well, now that you mention it…”
Death Becomes Her
Have you read The Kurtherian Gambit, from Michael (Todd) Anderle?
Available at Amazon
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Written March 26, 2019
THANK YOU for not only reading this story but these Author Notes as well.
(I think I’ve been good with always opening with “thank you.” If not, I need to edit the other Author Notes!)
RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?
So, I’m sitting at the bar area of Il Fornaio (Italian Bakery restaurant in New York New York here in Vegas) and a gentleman comes and sits down.
I’m wearing my Apple AirPods, but nothing is playing in my ears.
I’m not very good with strangers, so I’m tempted to try and just ignore anything as I have an excuse why I can’t hear the gentleman.
Except, I can.
So, when he asks how the food is, I answer that everything I’ve had is good. Then, I mentally slap the shit out of myself as I realize my one good excuse for not talking (and staying safely in my cocoon) is gone.
‘Cause I outed myself.
So, picking myself up by my 51-year-old socks I decide I’m going to jump out of my comfort zone, and ask him a question. I won’t bother you with how many different ways I came up with to strike up a conversation in my mind before choosing, just suffice to say it was more than ‘one’.
So, the winner of my racing and gibbering mind was, “Are you here on business, vacation, or pleasure?”
Stupid! Vacation and pleasure are basically the same things you big doofus. (Seriously, this is the type of shit that goes through my mind when I have to speak to strangers. It’s really uncomfortable, but I do it.)
I find out he is here in Vegas for the Bar Convention.
I pause, like a dear in headlights What the hell do I say next? C’mon! You are a best selling author, and you make your characters talk all the time! (Ok, I didn’t say that last part in my mind, but as I recount this story, I realize that I should have.
In fact, I should start playing a character when I’m out in public. Wonderful, I’m talking myself into creating a dual-personality.
Cause that will go over well.
Anyway, he was from Bermuda (600 miles off the North Carolina coast, nowhere near the Keys where I thought it was, and suggested out loud… But I digress from my main story) and I found out it’s actually a British colony or something like that.
Basically, not American.
I’m way outside my geographical knowledge of geopolitical associations and comfort zone…
Sweet.
Not really.
I’ll make a longer story short by saying I did learn some impressive stuff about the bar / restaurant business that can be summed up like this:
1) Almost all food can come in frozen (even bread.)
2) You don’t make good margin on food.
3) Sell alcohol to make margin, but you have additional issues with drunks and messes.
4) Sell liquor specifically to make a killing.
5) There are special mugs and plates that are being made out of plastics to both look good, and reduce breakage.
6) Be careful with these plastics as suntan lotion make them turn smoky and ugly.
So, I got out of my comfort zone, and I’m happy to say I matured 1% this morning.
AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS
One of the interesting (at least to me) aspects of my life is the ability to work from anywhere and at any time. In the future, I hope to re-read my own Author Notes and remember my life as a diary entry.
The Upper Cave, Las Vegas, USA
I’m a bit roasting at the minute, as the cave is being hit by sunlight like we are on Mercury or something.
While I’m not a big fan of Post-Apocalyptic fiction (writing or reading) I’m here to tell you, if it is wintertime then come to Vegas.
Why?
Because the sun bouncing around all of these massive buildings with windows that reflect it back out make it a cauldron of pain occasionally. Cold days become cool, cool days become nice, nice days become warm and warm days become WTF???
So, we have huge window shades that we put up and down, and I just put mine down. Only an hour late, so it’s just a few too many degrees up in here. Seriously, on really cold days during the winter, we don’t use our heater too much (and we STILL close the blinds as it roasts our cave in
the mid-afternoon sun.)
So yes, if you need a warm place should the apocalypse happen - I suggest Las Vegas for the wintertime.
And somewhere far away for summer.
FAN PRICING
$0.99 Saturdays (new LMBPN stuff) and $0.99 Wednesday (both LMBPN books and friends of LMBPN books.) Get great stuff from us and others at tantalizing prices.
Go ahead, I bet you can’t read just one.
Sign up here: http://lmbpn.com/email/.
HOW TO MARKET FOR BOOKS YOU LOVE
Review them so others have your thoughts, tell friends and the dogs of your enemies (because who wants to talk with enemies?)… Enough said ;-)
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
Witch Of The Federation
Have you read Michael Anderle’s new creation, WITCH OF THE FEDERATION? It’s available now at Amazon and through Kindle Unlimited.
The future has amazing technology. Our alien allies have magic. Together, we are building a training system to teach the best of humanity to go to the stars.
But the training is monumentally expensive.
Stephanie Morgana is a genius, she just doesn't know it.
The Artificial Intelligence which runs the Virtual World is charged with testing Stephanie, a task it has never performed before.
The Earth and their allies, may never be the same again.
Will Stephanie pass the test and be moved to the advanced preparatory schools, or will the system miss her? Will the AI be able to judge a human's potential in an area where it has no existing test data to compare?