Catee's Grace

by Keith Holmes

  Salim’s features softened as he finally started getting the responses he wanted. His voice hushed, he spoke. “Tell him: Victoria.”

  Though he hadn’t a clue what it meant, Brother Isaacs eyes widened and his spine straightened with the thrill of intrigue. He took a moment to ponder its hidden meaning. Certainly he knew that Victoria was a common woman’s name, but he also knew that it was a Latin word meaning “victory”. Victory? he wondered silently. Victory over what? Salim cleared his throat to bring Brother Isaac’s attention back to the phone.

  “Victoria… y,yes… yes,” the young Priest stammered, “How may Father Helforde reach you?”

  Salim lowered his voice further, pausing as he watched a young French thug happen down the street. He thought for a moment, about giving him his cell, but decided to err on the side of caution. Even revealing the area code might tip the enemy off if there were any leaks.

  “He can’t,” came Salim’s reply. “I will attempt to contact him again tomorrow.”

  “But…,” came Brother Isaac’s protest, cut short by the 'click' of the line.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Enough time had passed for Catee to remind her father that she was hungry and for Ethan to begin to get perturbed with Jahleel. The opening of the apartment door caused all eyes to focus upon it, watching as each lock slowly twisted open. Ethan stood and made his way to the door, stepping behind it as he motioned for Tara and Catee to go into the bedroom. They disappeared just as the door swung open and Salim made his way through. The wide opened door served to conceal Ethan’s presence.

  The empty apartment caused Salim to stop, his hands filled with Mamie Burger 2 bags as worry filled his face.

  “Ethan?” he queried his mind racing toward the worst possible conclusion.

  “Maybe you should knock next time,” Ethan answered from behind the door causing the old monk to leap, his heart racing.

  “Oh thank God! I was worried that you’d…. left,” the pause in his statement marked a re-wording of it. There were many things that Salim worried about regarding the Moyers. Their leaving of their own accord was farther down the list.

  Nodding apologetically as Ethan stepped around the door, Salim presented one of the bags of food to him.

  “Of course I should have knocked. Forgive me.”

  “Come on out you two,” Ethan called toward the bedroom. Catee led the charge and let out a giggle as she saw the fast food bags.

  Tara’s gait was slower but just as relieved when she saw Salim’s familiar face. The group gathered around the coffee table as Catee began shoving fries into her hungry mouth with a smile. Ethan unwrapped a burger and looked to the monk.

  “Thanks for the food but Jahleel was supposed to bring us something an hour ago."

  The rather ungrateful statement caused Salim to smirk and look into Ethan’s eyes. “I know. He called me,” Salim said with a nod but Ethan didn’t understand.

  “So he calls you instead of doing what he said he would do? That makes me feel really good about my family’s safety,” Ethan retorted.

  “Ethan,” Salim began, “Jahleel is a Vigilant. He has sworn poverty. Soup kitchens do not allow for carry-out.”

  "Oh," Ethan said in reflex. Embarrassed, his eyes found the floor and he nodded an apology. "I didn't know."

  Salim nodded and watched as the family helped themselves to the food. Tara chewed the inside of her lip for a moment, looking at her burger. She didn't think it would be her first meal in Paris.

  “When will we be able to go out and see the city?” she asked. Salim looked to her, then to Ethan who interjected.

  “This is kinda her ‘dream city’,” he said. Salim nodded.

  "There will be a chance to see this beautiful place Mrs. Moyer," Salim said, "but it will be a few days. We must wait for the Catholics to arrive."

  Tara groused in disappointment but Ethan's brow drew down in confusion.

  "The Catholics? Aren't you guys monks?" he queried with a raised brow.

  "We are monks of the Chronica du Militia Christi - The Knights Templar. We are our own order, unaffiliated with any denomination," he explained.

  "You're not Catholic?" Ethan questioned. To him, if it had something to do with God, it was probably Catholic. Salim smiled politely and shook his head.

  "The Templars and the Vigilant have many acquaintances within the church, but only one friend: The Occulus Dei. They are an order of priests that allied with the Vigilant long, long ago."

  "Huh," Ethan pondered. "Okay. So what do they have to do with anything?"

  "The priests will prove that Catee is truly an Argent Child," Salim paused as he considered the best wording for what would happen to the Moyer family next. "We are soldiers. They are holy men. Once a Priest can confirm or deny that Catee is Argentum, then we can work on relocating you to something more permanent." Ethan's brow drew down as he listened.

  "What are you talking about: relocate? I'm going back to Chicago."

  "It's not safe in Chicago anymore," Salim retorted. Ethan laughed.

  "There are three locks on that door," he said pointing to the exit. "Apparently it's not safe here either. Listen, we're grateful for your help laying low while the heat dies down but as soon as we can, we're going back to Chicago. That's... that's...," he paused, trying to put words to the feeling in his chest, "... that's where we're from."

  Salim wasn't willing to argue. The young father just didn't understand yet. That would come with time.

  "Well, that's something to discuss with Father Helford when he arrives. He is sequestered at the Vatican right now, but I am confident that he will come as soon as he gets my message."

  "How long will that be?" Tara chimed in.

  “A few days,” he answered, looking at the building wanderlust in Tara's eyes. “I would appreciate your staying ‘out of the public eye’ until then.” He watched as both Ethan and Tara paused. Quickly he continued. “Jahleel will be near, watching, but he is only one Vigilant. I'll be more comfortable when there are more."

  Ethan shook his head and then stood up and looked around the apartment. “Listen Salim… thanks a lot for the help… thanks for everything but you can’t expect us to stay cooped up in this rat trap for three days can you?” Tara looked to him with admiration in her eyes, he glancing to her as he continued. “You people have whisked us out of our lives, dropped us in a city where we don’t even speak the language and now you want for us to just hide in French 'Skid Row' for three days while you guys figure out what to do with us?”

  Salim understood Ethan’s aggravation but he also understood the danger the city held for them. His voice softened, hoping to calm the agitated young father.

  “Ethan, you and your family are not prisoners here. In fact you are my guests and I will do my best to treat you as such. As my guests, it is my duty to keep you safe and I am telling you, man to man, that I cannot do that without your cooperation. In three days time The Occulus Dei will come and they will bring with them more protection, possibly even more Vigilant, but right now it is you, Jahleel and I against an entire world of shadows. I know that Jahleel is a warrior; you might be also but those are still odds that we are not prepared to face.”

  Ethan’s features softened and he placed his hands on his hips in contemplation. But before the young father could reply, the monk turned to Tara.

  “Tara, I promise you that once there are more here to protect you, I will personally take you on a tour of this city. I’ve lived here for many years and can take you to places that no book or television program can.” His words were thoughtful and appreciated but cold comfort when Paris was just beyond the stoop of the building.

  She forced a polite smile and tried not to look disappointed. “That’d be nice,” she said. “Thanks a lot.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Father Helforde cast an intimidating shadow as he burst through the doors of a meeting chamber at the Vatican. He was quite accustomed to defending his fringe Order
against the more mainstream but never had he had to do so in the chambers of St. Peter's Basilica… until today. In truth, the Occulus Dei were dying, their numbers dwindled more each year. The Papal Seat had varying opinions of these ‘Spiritual Warriors’, fundamentalist exorcists who had always bordered on the heretical in their studies and views. Though the current Pope supported them, he did so in secret and never with the fervor that previous Pope’s had. It was becoming quite unfashionable to be an exorcist these days; a truth that surfaced at times even in the very heartland of Catholicism. It had been an observation like this that got Father Helforde’s ire up and made him lead the charge to the exit when the meeting was dismissed.

  The immense hallways served as an echo chamber as Father Helforde threw open the doors sending a thunderclap down them. Father McMichaels jolted toward the sound. Helforde's scowl disappeared when he saw the young priest. He stepped to McMichaels and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Stephen, what are you doing here?” he asked, pleasant surprise lacing his deep voice.

  “I have a message for you Father,” he replied softly, watching as other Bishops and Clergy exited the chamber and happened past the pair, some casting disappointed looks to an indifferent Helforde.

  “Walk with me then,” he instructed, turning down the hallway opposite the traffic flow. The young priest nodded and the two made their way down the ornate, quiet corridor as Father Helforde continued.

  “Have you been waiting long?” He knew that his meeting had taken the better part of the day.

  “A few hours,” McMichael's admitted humbly, clasping his hands behind him. The response brought Father Helforde to a stop.

  “It must be an important message for you to have waited so long.”

  “It is… rather, I believe it is. Otherwise I’d never have attempted to reach you during the retreat.”

  Helforde's brow drew down. "Out with it then. Is everything all right?”

  “Brother Isaacs received a call from a man who said his name was ‘Brother Salim’. He said he had a code for you.” McMicheals’ face held a questioning look, expecting to be thought mad. Instead he received a squeeze on his shoulder.

  “What was the code?” Helforde asked hurriedly, urgency in his voice.

  "Victoria,” McMichaels said, looking into the elder pastor’s eyes. At once Father Helforde released his grip on Stephen and looked away, directing his eyes down the long hallway as though he were staring into eternity. “Victoria,” he echoed with a half whisper.

  “Father, who is she?” asked McMichaels nervously, fear of some terrible scandal in the back of his mind. It took a moment for the elder priest to understand the depth of the simple question. When he realized the implication, he began to chuckle.

  “No, no Stephen, it’s nothing like that.” His voice was quaking as laughter tried to sputter through his words. Tightening his grip on McMichaels’ shoulder and shaking him every few syllables for punctuation, Helforde revealed the meaning of the code. “The Templars believe they’ve found Argentum Peur - an Argent Child.”

  Father McMichaels’ recalled the story of the Argent Children. In his lifetime, he’d never known of one being found although he was aware that a few of their Order were on lifelong searches to do so. The Mythos of the Argent Child passed through the halls of the Occulus Dei Seminary much like the secret of the Knight's Vigil… an article of study for tests and little else. Most Occulus Dei would finish their earthly lives without meeting or knowing either.

  "I...," McMichaels said, hesitant.

  "You seem surprised," Helforde teased.

  "To be honest Father, I thought they were a legend."

  Helforde eyed the young priest. "You thought? Or you preferred to believe?" he wondered. "Because Stephen, if the former then you weren't properly instructed. That would be my own failing, would it not?"

  "I'm sorry. The stories can be... unsettling," McMichael's admitted, apology in his eyes.

  Helforde nodded his understanding but felt it necessary to correct the man that would likely one day take over his duties.

  "Don't let the weltanschauung of the world cloud your vision, no matter how attractive it may be. You are Occulus Dei. You most of all, must have eyes to see the good and the bad."

  McMichaels nodded, feeling rightfully scolded. "Of course Father. What must be done now?"

  “I must go to test the child.”

  “But… you are sequestered,” the young priest reminded. Helforde, lost in thought, turned to his assistant with a bit of frustration.

  “Yes. That is a problem.” The two Father’s began a slow gait down the hallway as the elder contemplated matters, pondering aloud. “I can’t possibly leave. I must stay to protect the Order’s interests.”

  "Father, if you'll teach me, I'll go," McMichaels reluctantly volunteered. Helforde stopped mid-stride and turned to his assistant.

  "No Stephen. Your expertise lies in administration. And though you are an Occulus Dei, likely my eventual successor, this is a job for someone more familiar with the old ways," he explained. Stephen hid a sigh of relief as the elder priest lifted a finger to his lips, eyes scanning the ceiling as he searched for a solution. "When the Templar calls again tell him that I will be available to him at the end of the sequestering. Have the office forward all calls to you. If Father Dominique should check in, inform him of the code and give it to him," Helforde advised, continuing their stroll.

  “If Father Dominique is close enough, then he can go to test the child. If not, then I will do so. Give the Templar my personal numbers and inform him of my availability and situation.” The two approached the end of the hallway that spilled out into an ornate room filled with the very Bishops and Archbishops that had just left the meeting. Helforde sighed.

  Father McMichaels nodded and turned to go but found the resistance of Father Helforde’s hand on his shoulder, turning him to look into his eyes. “I cannot express to you the importance of this discovery if it is indeed true. Handle this with the utmost priority and caution. Speak of it to no one. An Argent Child could help our Order in every way.”

  McMichaels' looked confused and a bit offended. "Aren't we to help her Father? And not the other way around?"

  Now it was Father Helforde who felt scolded. He glanced to the unwelcome stares that awaited him in the sitting room.

  "Desperate times, Stephen. If the Vigilant will allow it, then an Argent Child at the disposal of the Occulus Dei would greatly increase our...," he paused to find the right word. " ...influence, in these halls."

  McMichaels followed his pastor's glance. "Is it that bad father?"

  Helforde didn't answer.

  "Go with God, Stephen," he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The next morning in that tiny apartment was an awkward one. Tara had barely spoken a word to anyone since her spurning and when words did spill from her lips they were quiet and sad. The family was trying to re-enact some semblance of their morning routines. Thanks to Salim and a late-night delivery of groceries, the act had at least become feasible, but their dislocation was obvious in even the smallest of tasks.

  Catee didn’t like the French Selection of cartoons, Ethan simply couldn’t wrap his mind around the coffee maker, and Tara spent much of her time glaring out of the window at the Tower, as though she expected it to vanish. Her quiet sighs became louder when she realized that Ethan wasn’t going to acknowledge them. He’d found a comfortable chair, one that allowed his feet to rest on the coffee table and settled in for the day, content to some degree with flipping through the television channels hoping to find something he recognized. Around ten o’clock Tara was fed up.

  Catee was asleep on the couch, a bit of peanut butter marking the corner of her mouth from a half eaten croissant and peanut butter sandwich. Ethan was still parked in his comfy chair, his arms folded over his chest as he tried to watch and understand a soccer show.

  "Ethan, let's go," she said, a plea laced in her voice. He was half a
sleep and didn't hear the question.

  "Huh?"

  Tara walked across the room and stood before the door. "Let's go," she smiled, "just for a few hours."

  He shook his head and turned down the TV. "Baby, you know we can't. It's not safe."

  "Just for a few hours Ethan? Please? What can happen in a few hours?"

  Ethan sighed.

  "It only took a few minutes for monsters to come peeling off our walls," he said, staring at her. It made her shudder, but didn't break her resolve.

  "That's at home," she retorted. "We're in France. Nobody knows that, most of all... umm.... monsters."

  "How do you know?" he asked, perturbed. "How do you know they aren't standing on the stoop, waiting for us to come outside?"

  Tara shook her head. "Since when are you afraid?" she huffed. "Are you scared Ethan, or do you just not give a shit about Paris?'

  He sat up and gave her a hard look.

  "This is bullshit Tara. You're just trying to get your way. Stop acting like a child for a few minutes and be a mom."

  Her lips drew tight as anger filled her face.

  "Oh, am I not being mom enough for you?" she seethed. "How about you being a dad for awhile?" Ethan narrowed his eyes at her. Tara was always a peacemaker. And so if she was getting mad enough to confront him, he knew she was really angry.

  "Tara, calm down," he instructed. Her eye twitched as she put her hand on the door knob.

  "I'm going out for a few hours. Watch your daughter," she said. He jumped up from his seat as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

  "Get your ass back in here now!" he demanded. She returned his glare.

  "I will. In a few hours," she said, turning and heading for the stairs before she lost her nerve. He dashed into the hallway, pausing only when he remembered he'd be leaving Catee alone.