by R. R. Virdi
“Oh, you shouldn’t have.” I threw a hand to my chest in a mock dainty gesture.
She rolled her eyes, passing it to me.
“What is it?” I took it from her and moved to open it.
“Not here. Wait till you’re inside.”
I gave her a look but didn’t argue. “Okay.” I fetched my journals from where I’d left them in her car and opened the door. Part of me wanted to stay there and talk with her. I heeded the other part and stepped out, not wanting to delay this any longer.
“Vincent.”
I stopped and looked over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I know what you’re doing. He’s in there, isn’t he?”
I let my face slip into a neutral and innocent mask. “He?”
“That’s why you don’t want me to come in there. It’s the person I met the first time. You have someone else working with you on these. Fine. I can live with that. But you know I’m going to figure it out, right?” She gave me one heck of a grin and the look to match it.
I found myself smiling. Church had said something about that. “Yeah, you ever think that maybe you’re supposed to?”
Her expression faltered, replaced by a puzzled look.
I turned back and left her to it, walking towards the cathedral doors. “See ya!” I waved my bag hand without looking back.
A horn honked twice in reply.
I reached the doors and pulled one open with my free hand. A soft warmth, the kind you get from opening an oven or sleeping in freshly-laundered blankets, rolled over me. I embraced it, letting it ease my aches.
I put a hand to my mouth. “Yoo-hoo, Blondielocks, I’m home.”
No reply.
Maybe the blonde jokes were getting to him?
I released the door, letting it drift shut on its own as I walked through the place. My journal-filled hand tapped against the pews, and I went as far as drumming the books gently against the wood. “I hear they’re having a two-for-one glasses sale at—”
“Hello, Vincent.”
“Screw me silly six ways to Sunday, and it’s only Tuesday!” I spun around. The paper bag cut through the air, sailing an inch from Church’s nose.
He remained icily calm. “It’s not Tuesday. Tell me more about the glasses sale.”
I opened my mouth to speak before realizing what he had asked. There wasn’t really a comeback for that.
“It was a joke, Vincent.” He gave me one of his thoughtful smiles.
“Leave the jokes to me; they’re funnier that way.”
“If you say so.” His smile didn’t falter, but a mischievous twinkle made its way into his eyes.
Jerk.
He moved past me to the next pew, sitting down and gesturing for me to do the same. “Please, sit.”
Polite jerk.
But I plopped down beside him, letting the bag and journals come to rest beside me. “So, what’s up?”
Church looked ahead, his mouth turning up at the corners. “I suppose I should be asking you that.”
Fair enough.
“Uh, well, Ortiz dropped me off. I have a feeling she’s still out there—”
“Yes.”
I took a breath, trying to calm myself after being interrupted. I opened my mouth to speak.
“Calmness is like a body of water, Vincent. Something disturbs it, it ripples. Give it time, and it will settle.”
I clenched my fists and my jaw. “Yuh-huh. Calm, that’s me. I’m calm.”
“If you say so.”
Must not punch blonde and geeky in the face. Hitting people is wrong. But it feels good.
“Vincent, I was under the impression that you spent a great deal of your time hitting things and people.” Church’s face stayed neutral, but the upturned edges of his mouth twitched just enough for me to notice.
I ignored the part where he acted as if he could read my mind. I was learning to accept it.
“Acceptance is good in many things. It eases some of life’s struggles.”
A bit. I was learning to accept it a bit.
I exhaled, counting silently to myself before I was able to go on. “I’m pretty sure Ortiz means what she says. She’s going to work on figuring you out, Church.” I leaned forwards, resting my chin on my hands and giving him a look.
“I’m certain she will do her best. It may well be she figures me out, as you say, before you do.” His mouth twitched a fraction again.
I ground my teeth. “Why do I have the feeling you’re planning a lot of this?”
Church leaned back and blinked.
He blinked… I’d caught him off guard?
“Vincent, I in no way have planned much of this. We all work within a larger plan. Sometimes we can see parts of it. Sometimes we can’t. Most of the time, in my experience, we see just enough of it to influence things on a small scale. We see enough to choose and make decisions. After all, isn’t that what much of life is about?” His tone was soft and level, but something was off.
“Yeah, life and my case.” I glared hard at him. “You sent me after a pair of Fausts. You know that, right?”
He tensed at the word. His shoulders stiffened, and his back followed. Church’s posture became more proper, if that was even possible for someone like him. “I’m aware.” The words came out clipped, devoid of his usual light tone.
If I didn’t know any better, Church sounded pissed. Or as close to it as someone like him could sound.
“They were taking souls.”
“That’s what they do, Vincent. That’s why you were sent to stop them.” Church’s voice softened a tad, but it was still off.
“Yeah, but they weren’t playing fair. Not that monsters really do. Church, they were double-crossing people. These freaks were making deals then nixing them as fast as they could. It’s like they were just trying to rack up a soul count, like—”
Wood shattered like it’d been struck with a sledgehammer.
I looked to the source of the sound.
Bits of former pew fell from between Church’s fingers. He flexed them, looking at his digits like he was confused about what had just happened.
I wasn’t. He had freaking pulped solid wood with nothing but his grip. Blondie had done it so casually that he wasn’t even aware he’d done it.
I scooted away, putting some distance between us. “You okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Clipped speech again. Church shook his hand free of the remaining particulate wood. He reached up and pulled his glasses free, plucking a handkerchief with his other hand. My blonde, and momentarily erratic, friend, polished his glasses before putting them back on. “I’m sorry about that.”
Yeah, so was I. Whatever that was.
“I believe I should explain myself.” Church exhaled like the last thing he wanted to do was give me answers.
“I mean, it’d be nice. But then again, you haven’t always been an open book. Why break a streak and start now?” I gave a little chuckle hoping it’d lighten the mood.
“They shouldn’t have been doing that, Vincent. Taking souls is a crime as it is.”
I started at him. “You do know that monsters do all manner of things they shouldn’t, right? And crime, by whose rule? Come on, you know damn well vanilla mortals don’t have any way of enforcing any rule over these freaks. Is it wrong? Hell yes. A crime? I don’t know.”
Church looked at me as if I were speaking gibberish. “It’s a crime, Vincent. Take my word for it.” His voice felt like it was accompanied by the weight of the world. It bore down on me, feeling like it’d force me through the pew if it kept up.
“Okay.” It was all I could say after that.
“The human soul is not a plaything. It is most certainly not cheap currency to curry favors among the paranormal. But that is, however sad, what happens to it as you’ve seen.”
“Yeah. Why?”
He looked at me as if not understanding. “Why what?”
“Why’s it even, I don’t know, allowed? Why are p
eople allowed to sell it, trade it, whatever?”
“Free will.” Church made it sound like it was supposed to answer everything.
It didn’t.
“That’s it? Because people are allowed to, they’re allowed to? That’s not an answer. That’s just bullshit.”
Church held his stare. “It is exactly what it is. People have free will, Vincent. The will to do good. To do and cause harm. To hurt. To live. To learn. To love. They cause others to suffer. Some help others prosper. But in the end, they have the right to live as they see fit and to influence the lives of others. That means for better or worse. It is what comes with freedom. That applies to their soul as well.” His lips went tight like he wished that weren’t the case.
“Yeah, and look what comes of it. You ever think that maybe free will was a mistake? I mean, there are a lot of good people out there. But there’s a helluva lot of bad too.”
“No.” Church was a resolute as steel on that. There wasn’t a question in his mind. He believed in free will, that was the end. “Free will is what drives much of the world, Vincent. One day you’ll see that.”
Whatever that meant.
“Doesn’t mean a lot doesn’t go wrong with it. People make mistakes all the time.” I thought of my own.
“They do. They can also use their free will to fix them. To do things to improve the lives of others or to reconcile.” He gave me a knowing look.
“This is about me and Ortiz, huh?”
He nodded.
“I don’t have the kind of money to pay for that kind of talk, Church.”
He smiled. “Consider it on the house.”
I snorted. “Thanks. It’s a lot to unload.”
Church leaned against the back of the pew like he was getting comfortable. The silent message was clear. He had all the time in the world for me.
I appreciated it. Especially since I didn’t have much time at all. “I haven’t made a lot of good choices recently.”
“Who has, Vincent?”
I ignored the innocent question. It was meant to deflect from me, but the truth was, I didn’t want to do that. I needed to get this out. “Mine have put people in trouble, danger, worse.”
“So have the choices of others.” He wasn’t letting it go.
“I put Ortiz through a messed-up ringer. Dragged Kelly through the same.”
“And you pulled them out of it as well. Stronger, if you hadn’t noticed. They will carry scars, yes. What pain doesn’t scar? But, with time, scars fade. That is, if you let them.” Church sounded like his old self again.
I went on like he hadn’t said a word. I’d heard him. Not sure if I wanted to believe him though. He was making it too easy.
In my experience, easy never paid off.
“And sometimes, Vincent, easy is just easy because. That is it. Life isn’t always trials and tribulations. You don’t always need to suffer. Sometimes the path is smooth. Learn to accept it, and, if you can, enjoy it.” He gave me a bit wider of a smile.
Charming jerk.
“Everyone makes bad decisions, Vincent. Everyone. You are part of that no matter how removed you may feel. I know your life and the circumstances aren’t easy. I know you feel out of place and not like one of them.” He gestured to the cathedral, using the simple motion to imply greater meaning. “You may not have their lives, but you matter in them. You affect them. Change them. You save them, Vincent.”
I opened my mouth but shut it as Church gave me a look saying he wasn’t done.
“Everyone makes decisions. That is life. You cannot move forwards without choosing to do something. They will have costs. They always do. Everyone will make bad ones that come back to haunt them. How badly they trouble you is in part up to you.”
I mouthed something unintelligible below my breath.
Church managed to catch it all somehow. “You opened yourself up and allowed someone in. After so many cases where you have been alone, that was hard for you. You trusted, and you wanted to be able to return that. You feel as if you’ve failed.”
I nodded.
“Vincent, understand this. The people closest to us have the ability to hurt us, whether by intent or not. That is not a bad thing. It’s a sign of a good thing. You opened up, let someone in where she can hurt you, and you, her. But that is also where trust is built. The place friendship is built. It goes back to choice. You have a choice, Vincent. You both do.”
I licked my lips, not sure of where he was going.
“She forgave you, did she not?”
I inclined my head. “Yeah.”
“And now you have to choose whether to accept that, truly. Are you going to move on and do something to earn her trust from now on? Will you move past a mistake that’s holding you back so you can continue to be her friend and help her when needed?”
“I think I can do that.” My voice was rougher than the shards of crushed wood Church had brushed to the floor.
“Good, because the people who can hurt you are the ones close enough to do it. The ones who can break you down can also build you up. They are the ones that matter, Vincent. They’re close for a reason. Love them. Cherish them. Protect them. Hold onto them and don’t push them away.”
Every word hit a bit harder and deeper than the one before it. I had the feeling Church had heard and seen a lot more than he’d let on.
I needed to start checking my pockets for a mini blonde and geekily dressed spy.
“Thanks.”
“Of course. Now, are you going to ask what you’ve been holding back?” He smiled like he was in on a joke that I wasn’t.
“Well, since you asked.” I glowered at him. “One of the Fausts said something I couldn’t make sense of. She mentioned a name—the Peddler?”
Church tilted his head like he hadn’t heard me correctly. “I’m sorry?”
I repeated the name. “I don’t know. But, based on the name and what Fausts do, it sounded like they were working for this Peddler. Maybe something to do with how they’ve been dirty dealing with souls? The name implies something like a seller. Why not? A middleman? Maybe the boss?”
Church rose from his seat, staring off into the distance.
“Church?”
“You’re implying that someone or something, in addition to a pair of Fausts, has been facilitating in acquiring souls fast and for the purpose of pawning them off. Something treating this like a commercial enterprise, whereas Fausts traditionally claim souls for their own power.”
I didn’t know that last bit. “Uh, yeah.”
Church’s skin looked like it’d paled a bit too far, coming across like polished marble. When he turned to look at me, his eyes carried too much steel and cobalt to be his normal peepers. It was like looking at frozen lightning.
I shied away from the look.
“This bears further looking into.” His face and eyes softened, looking like they’d never changed.
It had been a trick of the cathedral lighting that had led to Church’s appearance coming off as so weird. At least that’s what I told myself.
“Sure, I’ll look into it when I can.”
“Thank you.” He sounded as if he weren’t speaking to me. “Caroline’s death bothers you.”
I blinked. “Yes.”
“Free will.”
“So, I was supposed to let her die?” My fingers dug into the pew.
“No, you were supposed to let her live and act by her choices. To do what you could to save her. In the end, her choices decided her fate. And what a poor one it was.”
I couldn’t argue that. “She wanted the love of someone who’d given his affection to someone else. When she couldn’t have that, she’d wanted him dead. In the end, she still ended up alone and without either want satisfied. What was the point?”
“Sometimes taking a shortcut to what you want carries a cost that isn’t worth the price. Remember that, Vincent. In all your desire for answers, quick ones at that, don’t do anything to jeopardize your future
for scraps of knowledge about your past.”
“Is that your way of telling me to stop digging?” I stared daggers at him, waiting for him to give the answer I knew he wanted to. But it never came.
“It’s my way of warning you to be careful. You wanted to ask me about the Watcher of the Ways, didn’t you?”
I had. A simple title Lyshae had mentioned during my case at the asylum. She’d told me that he’d have the answers. “Yes, I did.”
“I can’t tell you about that, Vincent. I’m sorry.”
An edge crept into my voice. “Can’t, or won’t?”
“Yes.”
Fair enough. I was used to that sort of treatment from Church. I changed the subject. “Mind telling me why I’ve been running around of late with monsters being able to smell that I’m a soul?” I arched a brow, waiting for his answer.
Church’s mouth pulled to one corner in a micro-twitch. “Wear deodorant.”
Ass.
He pointed to the bag Ortiz had given me. “Besides, you need to focus on something else.”
I followed his point, staring at the bag. “Yeah, and what’s that?”
“Killing demons today so you can face the devil tomorrow.”
“The hell does that mean?” I turned back to face him.
He’d ghosted.
I sighed, looking around the cathedral more on instinct than anything else. It was useless. When Church pulled a Copperfield, he was gone.
Bastard.
I grumbled to myself and sunk a hand into Ortiz’s bag. Something crumpled under my grip, and I pulled it free.
A letter.
I scanned over it. The note informed me that the gift inside was from both Kelly and Ortiz. It’d make my life a bit easier from now on and was a way to say thank you.
I frowned and reached back into the bag. My fingers brushed against cool aluminum as I pulled out the slender object.
It was a flip phone. The kind used and sold in bodegas and street carts as disposable burners. They were untraceable, topped up with minutes, and great for guys like me on the go. I flipped it open and thumbed through the contacts. Ortiz’s number was there.