by J. R. Mabry
“Okay, I can see that.”
“So some people are just called to be deacons. That’s fine. But if you’re called to be a priest, you don’t just jump to a role with enormous responsibility, just like you don’t pass the bar and instantly become a partner at a law firm. You gotta work your way up, learn as you go.”
“Okay, I can see that, too. But being a deacon is a different role.”
“No, that’s where I think you’ve got it wrong. Deacon means ‘servant.’ Once you’re ordained a priest, you’ll still be a deacon, a servant. You don’t stop being a deacon just because you become a priest. You still serve the needy, you just also teach and administer the sacraments on top of that. It’s about more responsibility.”
“So, you’re saying that a bishop is always a deacon and a priest, but with the added responsibilities of being a bishop, too.”
“Like frosting on a two-layer cake. Vanilla sponge cake, to be exact.”
“So this isn’t a blind alley that I’ll leave behind,” Kat said, nodding. It was starting to make sense.
“Nope. It’s something you’ll spend your whole life living into, even after you become a priest.”
“Wow. I can get on board with that,” Kat said. “How are you doing?”
“You’re right. Talking helped.”
“Good. So tell me how Lutherans see the whole ordination thing.”
“We think the only ordination worth a damn is baptism.”
“Baptism? That’s a whole ’nother sacrament!”
“Nope. Baptism makes us all priests—”
“Get out! That’s just weird.”
“Nope, that’s Protestant.”
“So don’t you ordain pastors?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t put you in a different category of human being. For us it just means, ‘Here’s this person we trust to do this job. Yay! Do a great job.’ But they’re no more or less a priest than they were before their ordination.”
“I didn’t know Protestants were so fucking weird.”
“How is that weirder than gradiated levels of glory and power?”
“I see your point.”
“I think the big question is why. Why do you want to be ordained? Is God really calling you to it? Or is there some neurotic need in yourself that you think it will speak to, some emptiness you hope it will fill.”
“That’s a deep fucking question.”
“It’s the only question, really.”
“And what if it’s both?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what if I want it for some twisted reason of my own, but God really is calling me. I mean, is that possible? Look! Only one more block.”
“Oh, shit.”
“What?”
Susan pointed, and they both stopped. Kat squinted and saw what she meant. Just in front of the friary she saw people milling about across the street—that was normal, nowadays. But she also saw a black sedan, with two people standing next to it, talking. Both were dressed in suits, and the smaller of them was obviously a woman. “I don’t recognize them,” Susan said. “They smell like cops.”
“Is that a problem?” Kat asked.
“I don’t know. Depends on why they’re here, I suppose.”
“You sound like you don’t trust the police.”
“Long story. I’ll tell you sometime.”
“Looking forward to that,” Kat said.
Susan started walking again, this time with renewed vigor. She approached the two visitors.
“Hey, I don’t recognize you two. We live there,” she said, pointing at the friary. “How can we help you?”
Both of them flashed badges. “I’m Detective Perry, this is Detective Cain,” the woman said. “Berkeley PD. Is either of you Katherine Webber?”
“I’m Kat.” Kat pulled at her leg, stretching into her cool-down.
“Is Mikael Bloemink here?”
“Should be,” Kat answered. “I can get him.”
“Can we ask what this is about?” Susan asked. She scowled at Kat’s stretches.
“Um…why are all those people across the street?” Cain asked.
“Because we’re kind of famous. We’re the Berkeley Blackfriars,” Kat said. There was some pride in her voice.
“Why does that sound familiar?” Cain asked.
“Did you watch the Republican Convention?” Kat asked.
Cain’s eyes widened. “That’s you guys?”
Kat laughed and winked at Susan. “I’ll never get tired of that.”
“Been a long time comin’, girlfriend.”
“Please come in,” Kat said to the police officers.
“We just need—” Cain started, but Perry thumped him absently in the chest.
“Thank you,” Perry said and followed them up the steps to the house. She motioned with her head for Cain to follow.
“Since when are you taking point?” he asked. She narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing.
Once through the screen door, Susan held it for the detectives. Tobias instantly rushed to them, tail wagging, and stuck his nose in Perry’s crotch. “Stop that!” she said, turning away. Undeterred, he stuck his nose in Cain’s crotch. Cain squatted and rubbed the dog’s neck playfully.
“Mikael!” Kat yelled. She heard steps rumbling above her, and in her mind’s eye she saw Mikael rushing to the stairs.
“What?” he called down.
“Big shit happening. Come down!”
She heard the sound of his feet on the wooden stairs. Brian came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Yeah, what’s—” Marco followed Brian, but when he saw the detectives he turned on a dime and headed back for the kitchen, but they were watching the stairs and didn’t seem to notice.
Mikael ducked so as not to hit his head on the ceiling as he emerged from the staircase. “What’s up?” he asked, his blue-black hair standing straight upright, adding another eight inches to his already six-foot stature.
“Is that the best cassock you’ve got?” Kat asked.
“What’s wrong with…oh,” Mikael said, trying to brush away the salsa. Brian crossed over to him and made short work of it with his towel.
“Mikael, this is Officer Cain, and…I’m sorry…” Kat grimaced.
“Perry. Detectives Cain and Perry.” They showed him their badges.
“Cool!” Mikael said, squinting at them. He straightened up to his full height. “What can we do for you?”
“There was a murder last night at Tilden Park,” Cain began, “and we have reason to believe that you were in the vicinity. We’re hoping you noticed something.”
Kat turned to Mikael. “Was that what we felt?”
He didn’t answer her, but he nodded at the detectives. “We want to help. That’s what we do.” He put his arm around Kat and pulled her close to him. Tobias whined in protest at not being part of the intimacy.
“We need you to come down to the station with us. We’ve got a lot of questions we’d like to ask.”
Kat and Mikael looked at each other. Mikael nodded. “Of course.”
“Can I get changed?” Kat asked.
“Sure, but…I’ll need to come with you,” Perry said.
“Oh,” Kat said. “So, we’re suspects.”
“Until we rule you out, everyone is a suspect.”
Kat nodded and motioned for Perry to follow. Tobias trotted after them.
“Will you be back for supper?” Brian asked Mikael.
Mikael looked at Cain. Cain shrugged. “Depends how much we have to talk about.”
“What’s for supper, anyway?”
“Talapia tacos with a chipotle-infused balsamic, flash-fried plantains, and cantaloupe salad.”
Cain’s mouth dropped open. “Shit. I might come back for supper.”
“You would be most welcome, detective,” Brian smiled and headed back to the kitchen. Just then the phone rang. “Got it!” Brian shoute
d and made a detour into the office.
Mikael watched Cain and saw his eyes widen at the sight of Brian’s hunchback. Cain looked back over at Mikael and blinked. “You all live here?” Cain asked.
“Yes. Kat and I share a room upstairs.”
“My husband and I share the room next to theirs,” Susan offered. “He’s a member of the Order, but I’m not.”
“No…cassock,” Cain noted.
“Bingo,” Susan said.
“The, uh, the cook guy wasn’t wearing one, either,” Cain mentioned.
“No. He’s partnered with Terry, another of our Order members.”
“Ah. So, not a celibate Order.”
“Fuck no,” Mikael said.
“But…you’re Catholic?” Cain asked.
“Yes,” Mikael said, without explaining further. He enjoyed such moments of confusion.
“How does that work?”
Before Mikael could answer, Kat returned, her hair wet from the shower, wearing a newly-pressed lightweight cassock. She grabbed Mikael’s hand, and together they headed for the door. “Not you,” she said to Tobias, shooing his nose way from the door. Kat shot a last glance at Susan. “Don’t wait up.”
8
Brian picked up the phone. “Holy Apocrypha Friary,” he said with an exaggerated professional tone. “How can I help you?”
“Are you one of the friars?”
“No, I…who is this please?”
“This is Monsignor Bondi of the Diocese of Oakland,” the man’s voice rang with authority and clipped impatience. “I need to speak to one of the friars, now.”
“Everyone’s a little busy at the moment. You can go ahead and talk to me. I assure you there will be no delay in our response.”
“And what is your role there?”
“I’m…” he didn’t know what to say. Resident Talmudic scholar? Jewish esotericism expert? “I’m the cook. And I…consult,” he said, a little feebly.
“I—what? I don’t want to speak to the-the…cook!” the Monsignor spluttered. “Now put me on with one of the friars or I’ll have your job.”
He’ll have my job? Brian wondered. Meaning he’ll come over and be the cook? Well, is he a good cook? No, he means he’ll get me fired. That would be hard, since Brian wasn’t paid anything. It was just his…role, his place in the household, how he contributed to the mission of the Order.
He believed in the mission, yet the monsignor’s words struck at something deep, something painful, something that he was not aware of until just that moment. Is that all I am? Just a cook? His fingers tightened around the telephone’s wireless handset. “Wait right here. I’ll see if anyone is…if I can find someone.”
“What kind of place is this?” Monsignor Bondi yelled, but Brian removed the phone from his ear and moved, zombie-like, into the chapel—his head swimming and his heart stabbing with pain and regret.
9
“In here, please,” Cain said, holding the door for Mikael.
“You’re splitting us up,” Mikael said. “That’s so biblical.”
“It’s standard procedure,” Cain said, shutting the door behind them. He watched as Mikael surveyed the tiny room. It was painted a pastel gray, barely large enough for the table in its center. “Please have a seat.”
Mikael sat, facing a wall dominated by a large mirror. “Just like on TV,” Mikael said, pointing at the mirror.
Cain looked behind him. “Oh, yeah. Well…verisimilitude is important to us.”
“Will your captain be watching us?”
“If she does, it’ll be later on, and through that—” he pointed at the camera near the ceiling, “not through the mirror.”
Mikael moved his head in huge, looping nods. Cain was not sure what to make of him. He seemed a little too eager, a little too friendly. Goofy, even. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Cain asked.
“Yeah. Well, it’s novel. I’ve never been to a police station.”
“You’re not nervous?” Cain asked.
Mikael shrugged. “Why should I be nervous? I didn’t do anything wrong…or at least not that I’m aware of…or at least, nothing you’d be interested in.” Mikael’s mouth moved back into a wide, open grin. “Besides, I kind of like you.”
Cain twitched his head to one side. “What did you mean by ‘biblical’?”
“Huh?”
“You mentioned it when we split you and your girlfriend up. I said that was standard procedure, and you said that was biblical. How do you mean?”
“You never read the story of Susannah? It’s in Daniel—at least in the Catholic Bible it is. In the Protestant Bible it’s in the Apocrypha, the Additions to Daniel.”
“Let’s assume I have not read this story.”
“So Susanna is this beautiful Jewish lady, and she’s good, too. But there are these two old skeezy guys, and they say, ‘Hey baby, sleep with us. No one will ever know.’ And she says, ‘Fuck you, old skeezy guys.’ So they accuse her of trying to seduce them. That’s bad, ’cause if they succeed, folks will stone Susannah to death.”
“I’m not hearing the splitting up part.”
“Oh, yeah. So there’s this guy Daniel, who’s really young at this point, you know, and he says, ‘Separate the two old skeezy guys,’ and he questions them separately. And like, their stories don’t match, so he knew they were lying. I figure you guys have been taking your cue from Daniel ever since.”
“I suppose we have.” Cain raised his eyebrows. “Can you summarize any book in the Bible so…eloquently?”
“You bet your boots!” Mikael said. “It’s one of my charisms.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Cain said, shaking his head.
Mikael took a breath and his hands were already gesticulating a reply when Cain held his hand up. “And as interesting as that might be, we have more pressing concerns.”
Mikael lowered his hands and smiled cooperatively. “Sure thing.”
Cain’s nose twitched. “Saffron.”
“The color?” Mikael asked.
“Did you have saffron for lunch?” Cain asked.
“Yeah. Saffron rice. With pumpkin tamales.”
“Shit, you guys eat good.”
“Tell me about it. Brian’s a wizard.” Mikael leaned across the table. “I mean, not really. He isn’t an actual wizard. He just, you know, his cooking is amazing.”
Cain pursed his lips but decided not to pursue it. Instead he opened the file in front of him and laid photos of the crime scene out on the table in front of Mikael. He watched the young man’s face intently. He saw Mikael’s eyes widen, and his jaw drop open. A wave of distress crossed his face, and his eyes welled up.
“That’s…that’s terrible,” Mikael said.
“It is. It’s terrible,” Cain agreed. “And that’s why I need to talk to you. Tell me what happened the night this happened.”
“We were celebrating Mabon with my friend’s coven.”
“And that friend would be…?”
“Jimmy.”
“Do you mean James Tomlinson?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a Catholic priest?”
“I’m an Old Catholic deacon.”
“Doing witchcraft.”
“Yeah. Kat and I are both Wiccans, but we usually work with Christian god forms. You know, like you do.”
Cain rubbed at his jaw. “Pretend that I don’t. Explain that to me.”
“Wiccans work with a variety of pantheons. Some worship Greek gods like Zeus and Hera, some worship Celtic gods like Bridget and Cernunnos, like that.”
“And you?”
“We worship Jesus and Sophia.”
“Who the hell is Sophia?”
“That depends on who you ask.” Mikael scratched at the back of his head.
“Are you fucking with me?” Cain asked.
“No, no, really. I mean, if you’re talking about orthodox Christianity, then Sophia is the pre-incarnate Christ, which has a nice symmetry
to it. If you’re talking about Gnosticism, then she’s Christ’s mated syzygy.”
“Wait, what was that word?”
“Syzygy? A pair of connected or interdependent things?”
“Okay, yeah, sure, I knew that.” Cain slowly shook his head and made a note. He was beginning to wonder just how deep the weirdness could go.
“But we weren’t using the Christian pantheon the other night for Mabon. We were visiting our friends’ coven, so we used their god-forms.”
“And that doesn’t create a problem?”
Mikael shrugged. “Why should it? They’re just forms.”
“And God…or the gods…don’t mind that?”
“That would be awfully petty,” Mikael made a face. “It would be like me going to Mexico and taking offense because someone called me ‘Miguel.’”
Cain blinked. “Okay, let’s pretend for a moment that I understand that. What’s a ‘Mabon’?”
“It’s a harvest festival, the Autumn equinox.”
“And that’s a Wiccan holiday?”
“Correct. See, in Wiccan soteriological theory—”
“That sounds fascinating, but let’s save it for beer and sausages later,” Cain suggested.
“Okay,” Mikael brightened, sitting up like a puppy eager for a treat—apparently at the prospect of actually catching a beer with him later. I don’t know if this kid is stupid or bright or just incredibly naïve, Cain thought.
“Tell me what happens at this Mabon celebration.”
“Well, it happens in the context of a normal Wiccan liturgy.”
“Pretend I’m not an expert in Wiccan liturgy.”
“Okay. First we gather, then we take our clothes off. That’s called ‘skyclad.’ Not all covens work skyclad, but Jimmy’s does.”
Cain fought to keep his face rigid as he wrote some notes. “So, you get naked. What then?”
“Then we cast the circle and raise energy.”
“Energy. From where?”
“From the earth, of course.”
“Of course. What times was this?”
“Sundown. So…about 7 p.m.”
Cain wrote that down. “And then?”
“Then we called in the four directions. Then we made corn-dollies—”