The Vexation of Vampires (Penny White Book 5)

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘Sometimes a funeral can include a communion service,’ I replied calmly. ‘But there might be difficulties in this case. First off, I’m a woman.’

  ‘Why would that be a problem?’ Margaret asked.

  ‘The Roman Catholic Church doesn’t ordain women.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since the start.’

  ‘Although,’ Morey said, ‘there are those stories about Pope Joan.’

  ‘And, secondly,’ I continued, ‘Catholics aren’t supposed to take communion in a Church of England church.’

  Margaret’s eyebrows climbed up to her hairline. ‘And when did that happen?’

  ‘Again, several centuries ago. During the Protestant Reformation.’ I gave them a reassuring smile. ‘If you’d like to have a Catholic service at a later date, I could give you Father Damien’s details. He’s the local Roman Catholic priest. I’m certain he’d be happy to hold a Requiem Mass for Leonard.’

  Margaret shook her head. ‘Rose, it’s up to you, but I think one funeral will be enough.’

  ‘You’re quite right,’ the widow agreed. ‘Leonard wouldn’t have wanted all that fuss.’

  We went through the order of service one last time. I handed out my business card and Margaret escorted me to the door. ‘“This thing with bread and wine”,’ Morey muttered as I walked us back to the car. ‘I don’t know how you keep a straight face.’

  I waited until the car doors were shut before replying. ‘It’s the nature of the parish system, Morey. The Church of England is available to anyone, whether they come every Sunday or only for occasions like weddings or funerals. We’re the national church. It’s different in Lloegyr, I realise.’

  ‘Very.’ Morey settled himself into the passenger seat. ‘You must explain this to Skylar.’

  ‘Will do. She and I need to sit down and discuss what training she’s had thus far.’ I backed the car off the driveway and started for home. ‘I really haven’t been told very much.’

  ‘It does seem to be a rather sudden appointment,’ Morey agreed. ‘Makes me wonder what our bishops are up to.’

  ‘You really are suspicious when it comes to bishops.’

  ‘It’s wise to be suspicious when it comes to bishops.’

  Lunch was delayed by the need to clear up the kitchen. Skylar appeared near the end of the process, and she picked up a tea towel to dry the pots. ‘Do you know where James is?’ I asked as I placed the last of the plates into the dishwasher.

  ‘He went off to the train station an hour ago.’ For the first time since I’d met her, a frown drew down the corners of her wide mouth. ‘I thought he was going to do these before he left.’

  I wiped down the counters then went to the fridge. ‘For some strange reason, I thought he might as well. That usual triumph of hope over experience. Would you like a cheese sandwich? Or some ham?’

  ‘Cheese, thank you.’

  She made a pot of tea while I concentrated on not cutting myself with the cheese knife. I could think of no tactful way to ask what she might do at the sight of blood. Once we had plates and mugs in hand, we took seats at the kitchen table. ‘We need to talk over what you need to cover during your curacy,’ I said. ‘I’ve not seen your portfolio.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no worries about that.’ The usual cheerfulness was back again. ‘Bishop Aeron has arranged for several rats to come see you and recite my records. I think it’s going to be in sonnet form, so I hope I’m here when they arrive, ‘cause I think it’ll be awesome. But basically I’ve deaconed at Sunday services, and preached, and I’ve done some baptisms but no weddings or funerals yet. Oh, and youth services, I’m very good at those, and visits to schools. I love working with kids. I don't care what species they are. Those snail shark pups are really cute, aren’t they?’

  My headache was threatening to return. ‘There’s a funeral next Friday in St Wulfram’s. Would you like to do the Bible reading?’

  ‘Sure, of course. Can you introduce me to them on Sunday?’

  ‘They’re not churchgoers.’ Her eyes widened, so I explained, ‘That doesn’t matter. We’re here for anyone in the parish. I know that’s different to the system in Lloegyr.’

  ‘But that’s so cool! It means you get to meet all sorts of people who haven’t heard the Gospel. Such an opportunity to introduce them to Jesus.’

  ‘Not at funerals,’ I said. ‘A funeral is not a moment for evangelism. I’ll preach about the Christian hope of resurrection, of course, but the service is really to help the family during their grieving process.’

  ‘But when do you preach the Gospel? When’s the last time you told someone about Jesus?’

  Had I been this keen when I’d been a curate? ‘I’ll take you on some visits. England is a very secular society. You have to tread carefully.’

  We changed the conversation to the safer topic of snail pups. But after we’d cleared the table and went our separate ways, I found myself pondering Skylar’s questions. Problem is, I told God, it’s hard to recommend you when you’re so dratting elusive. Have you ever given serious consideration to joining Facebook? That would really help, you know. Particularly if you posted the occasional selfie.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Really, Black, do I have to do this?’ Morey complained as I adjusted the small banner draped over his back.

  ‘You agreed,’ I reminded him, sitting back in my car seat. ‘Remember?’

  He turned his head to pick at the strings tied around his chest. ‘You didn’t say anything about being dressed up like a circus pony.’

  ‘“Let Penny know if you can see me”,’ I quoted, my finger pointing at each word in turn. ‘How else are we going to do this? It’s not like I can have a placard on the table. We only want people with the Sight to be able to read it.’

  Morey continued to grumble as I took us into Nenehampton Cathedral. The chairs which usually filled the nave had been removed. In their place, over twenty stands had been erected. I brushed past the roller banner in the entrance which reminded everyone, in dark red against background images of stars, ‘All are called to God’s service!’ A mixture of clergy and lay people were working away at their displays, erecting boards and covering tables with brochures.

  All I had was a one carrier bag full of leaflets which Bishop Nigel’s office had prepared as a cover story. ‘Schools’ Ministry--a Fresh Start’ the front page declared, along with a photo of me holding a stuffed unicorn. As I laid them out, I could only hope that I didn’t have to answer any detailed questions. My school assemblies usually consisted of getting the children overly excited before handing them back over to their teachers.

  Since I had so little to put on display, I was finished in a few minutes. The event, publicised throughout Nenehampton Diocese as an opportunity for people to explore vocations in the widest sense, wasn’t due to start for another half-hour. So I left Morey to grumble on our table and went off to explore the other stands. The usual suspects were present, ready to discuss various ministries in the church. The largest display advertised the wonders of being a priest, along with photos which seemed to combine every age and skin colour known to humanity.

  A flurry of activity told me that Bishop Nigel had arrived. I returned to my stand and made an attempt to soothe Morey’s ruffled feathers. ‘Remember,’ I told the gryphon, ‘the Bishop was born with the Sight, so he can hear anything you say.’

  ‘I’m counting on it,’ Morey replied. At my look, he added, ‘He’s your bishop, not mine.’

  ‘While you’re in England, he’s technically your bishop as well.’ I fingered the packet of blu-tack in my pocket, wondering whether it worked on a gryphon’s beak.

  ‘Penny, good to see you,’ Bishop Nigel said when he reached our table. I was surprised and pleased by the kiss he dropped onto my cheek. He lowered his voice. ‘And, of course, Morey as well. I’m very grateful that you both have given up your Saturday to help us out.’

  ‘Why do you need to know who has the Sight?’ M
orey demanded, his thumping tail throwing brochures to the floor.

  ‘An increasing number of people are crossing over from Lloegyr. Penny is doing an excellent job.’ Bishop Nigel flashed me a smile. ‘But we could use more help in identifying citizens from your country. Particularly in churches.’

  ‘Bats versus vampires?’ I asked in a near whisper.

  ‘Exactly. It’s not like we can advertise openly. Anyone born with the Sight has learned to hide it. I speak from my own experience.’ The Bishop’s smile turned rueful. ‘Our parents tell us that we’re imagining things, or worse, they pack us off to see counsellors who insist that dragons and unicorns don’t really exist. We learn to hide it. My hope is that some of the folk today will come to speak to Penny. We can reassure them that they’ve been right all this time. And that they have a special ministry in the church.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ I said.

  ‘You always do.’ Bishop Nigel lowered a hand to brush against Morey’s head. ‘Both of you do. I'm very grateful.’

  The gryphon’s feathers relaxed as the Bishop moved on to the next stall. ‘Thank you,’ I said to Morey as I picked up brochures, ‘for not nipping my bishop.’

  Morey sniffed. ‘You owe me. Just remember that.’

  The event had an official start with a short address and a prayer from Bishop Nigel. Then attendees began to flow through the cathedral, along with visitors who seemed bemused to find God-talk in what they thought was a tourist destination.

  A few people came up to ask about ministry in schools, and I did my best to answer their questions. But I kept my eyes out for those who sidled past my table, their gaze dropping onto Morey and then quickly away again. I did my best to give them a quick smile, my finger pointing at the banner.

  ‘Can’t talk here,’ one young woman said to me nervously. ‘Nobody understands when I tell them that some garden snails have sharp teeth and eat birds.’

  ‘It’s all real,’ I reassured her. ‘Let me take down your contact details, and we’ll talk later.’

  I had five names in my notebook by the time the lunch break was announced. Was anyone counting the number of visitors? I wondered. It would be interesting to try to work out what proportion had the Sight. Or at least, had been willing to admit to it.

  Morey and I ducked under the table so I could remove his banner. I picked up my sandwiches and gave him a ride outside. He dived into a flock of pigeons, sending them and all other birds on the green into a panic.

  I made my way to the refectory garden. The small walled area offered plenty of shade, and several of the benches were empty. I wiped the wooden slats clean with a napkin, then took a seat.

  ‘Penny. May I join you?’

  My spiritual director stood in front of me. ‘Of course,’ I said politely, although I always felt awkward when I bumped into Gregory when we weren’t having a session. It was the same shock I’d felt as a child when I saw a teacher outside of school.

  The bench shuddered as Gregory sat down. His stomach pushed against his black shirt and spilled over his beige trousers. My spiritual director had a notorious sweet tooth. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ he noted as he opened his lunch box. ‘Almost a shame to be spending it inside, no matter how worthy the cause.’

  ‘Have you had many takers? I mean, people who are interested in becoming spiritual directors?’

  ‘A few have come to talk to me. I find they’re usually worried that they’re not spiritual enough themselves to help anyone else come closer to God. I remind them that God is always present, whether we feel him to be or not.’

  ‘Useful advice,’ I muttered.

  Gregory swallowed his mouthful of apple. ‘Is Morey here?’

  ‘Nope. He’s off terrorising the local pigeon population.’

  ‘Then, if you don’t mind me asking, how are you?’

  ‘You mean, how is it with my soul?’ I shrugged. ‘God’s still keeping his distance. Maybe I’ve just been so busy. You know, dragons, unicorns, and snail sharks, oh my.’

  ‘You’re back from your sabbatical?’ At my nod, he asked, ‘And what was the highlight?’

  ‘Discovering that snail sharks are as complex as anyone else.’ I turned to face him. ‘You’re on the deliverance ministry team, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said guardedly. ‘We don’t broadcast our services too widely. Many people have been too influenced by what they’ve seen in movies. Most of what we do is very simple, and with very little drama.’

  ‘There’s something that happened while we were with the snail sharks,’ I continued. ‘They wanted to bring Clyde’s mother back to life. Or, well, summon her spirit. That’s what they called it, a Spirit Ceremony. Her spirit was supposed to enter Clyde so she could tell everyone how she died.’ Despite the sunny day, I shuddered as a chill went through my body.

  Gregory frowned. ‘I’ve heard about ceremonies like that. They can be very dangerous.’

  I forced out a laugh. ‘But it’s all nonsense, isn’t it? I mean, spirits and all that. There’s no such thing as ghosts.’

  ‘Not ghosts, perhaps,’ Gregory said. ‘As a Christian priest, I preach and I firmly believe that the dead are safe in the hands of God. But I’ve also come across, well, disturbances, which I can’t entirely explain. Spirits, perhaps, although maybe not of human origin.’

  ‘You don’t believe there’s a devil, do you?’ I asked. ‘Surely we’ve moved beyond all that?’

  ‘Our Lord battled against Satan,’ Gregory pointed out. ‘Jesus was faced with temptation in the wilderness. He cast out demons, who always recognised who he was. He even talked about seeing Satan fall from heaven.’

  ‘But the Gospels were written nearly two thousand years ago. People understood things differently back then.’

  ‘I might agree about some of the healing miracles,’ Gregory said. ‘But it’s harder to explain away events like the man in the region of the Gerasenes. The demons even named themselves “Legion”, because there were so many of them.’

  ‘And the pigs they entered were driven insane,’ Morey said as he landed on the back of the bench. ‘They threw themselves into the sea.’

  ‘Morey,’ I told Gregory, ‘has decided to join us.’

  The gryphon rubbed his head against Gregory’s hand. ‘The pigeons here are well fed. I must bring Jago here sometime for a hunt.’

  I stared at my Associate. ‘Those birds are twice his size.’

  ‘Precisely. It’ll be a good challenge for him.’ Morey wiped his beak on the dark wood, leaving behind streaks of blood and feathers. ‘C S Lewis said there were two errors we can fall into when talking about demons. “One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.”’

  ‘Is Lewis commonly studied in Lloegyr?’ Gregory asked.

  ‘Of course. He’s required reading in our seminaries.’

  Gregory nodded. ‘What about Dietrich Bonhoeffer?’

  ‘Sadly, no.’

  ‘“I wonder what they do teach them at these schools”,’ I said, just to show Morey that he wasn’t the only one who’d read C S Lewis.

  ‘What has brought on a conversation about demons?’ Morey asked.

  ‘I was telling Gregory about the Spirit Ceremony.’

  The gryphon’s tail thrummed against the back of the bench. ‘We were pressed into that against our will.’

  ‘Any after effects?’ Gregory asked.

  ‘We were all impaired by the psychotropic compounds used during the Ceremony,’ Morey said. ‘But our symptoms have long since cleared.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of physical reactions,’ Gregory said. ‘Have there been any spiritual after effects?’

  ‘Not for me,’ I said. ‘God comes and goes as much as ever.’

  ‘“He is not a tame lion”,’ Morey quoted airily. ‘At any rate, a spirit cannot possess a person who has been baptised in the name of the Trinity. We belong to Christ and are protected by the seal of t
he Holy Spirit.’

  My sandwich fell from my numb fingers. ‘Morey, Raven hasn’t been baptised.’

  ‘No,’ the gryphon said thoughtfully, ‘he hasn’t. What did he say about leaving St George’s so suddenly?’

  My iPhone chimed. ‘Time to go back to work,’ I said, dropping the remains of my lunch back into the plastic bag. ‘Raven said very little, actually. He seemed more interested in getting away.’

  ‘Be careful, Penny,’ Gregory advised as we walked back to the cathedral.

  ‘I don’t think Raven is demon possessed.’

  ‘I’m not saying that he is. In my experience, what we in the deliverance ministry witness is often an emotional disturbance, not a spiritual one.’ He gave me a reassuring smile. ‘Let’s have a talk about it. What’s most important is that deliverance ministry, if required, and I stress if, is left in the hands of those who are trained and prepared for it.’

  ‘I have no plans to battle spirits,’ I said. ‘At least not of the non-liquid kind.’

  ‘Battles with the liquid kind are the more common for clergy to face.’

  My hand slipped down to my hip flask as I headed back to my stand. Morey held still as I quickly draped the banner across his back. Then I lifted him on to the table and readied my best smile to greet visitors.

  More tourists visited in the afternoon. Young children could see Morey, as did an assistance dog. The gryphon ignored their attention. I wondered how many beers this exceptionally good behaviour was going to cost me. And whether I could claim for the expenditure on my diocesan expenses form.

  The event drew to a close at 5pm. Bishop Nigel thanked all of us for our efforts, and sent us on our way with a final blessing. I gave my list of names to his chaplain. Morey waited until we were in the car to tear at his banner. ‘I was hoping to reuse that,’ I said as bits of cloth dropped onto his seat.

  ‘Precisely.’ He stepped out of the tattered remains. ‘Take someone else next time. Clyde, for example.’