Page 40 of Sinistram
“Dammit,” Travis said after a long pause. “This is so like them, dangling imminent hellfire and damnation, and all you have to do to be saved is fall in line and not ask questions.”
“The Library Keepers harass you, but it’s been a while since you’ve gotten a call from the Mothership, hasn’t it?” Brent asked.
“Yeah, not that I missed them. I was hoping they finally caught the hint and gave up. Should have known better.” He knew Brent could hear the anger and bitterness in his voice.
“Unless Father Liam has a call list of prodigal priests and just happened to get to your name today, there’s got to be a reason why he’s making another effort now,” Brent said, employing the skills that made him such a good detective. “So…what’s changed?”
“As far as we know, just the angry ghosts and people killing hunters,” Travis replied. “I don’t follow insider Church politics, so if there’s a battle for the next Sinistram Cardinal position, I don’t know anything about it.”
Brent shook his head. “If there were, Liam wouldn’t call you about it. There’s nothing you could do to change the course. But what if it does have something to do with whatever’s hunting the hunters and provoking the ghosts and monsters? What did he mean ‘the end is coming’? Is there any way, however wildly unlikely, that the trouble we’ve been investigating has some link back to the Sinistram?”
Travis bit back an automatic negative and forced himself to think. “The Sinistram has always considered itself to be better than run-of-the-mill hunters because they’re priests and steeped in occult lore and have some sort of paranormal abilities.”
No matter that the group remained conflicted over whether those abilities were God-given or sinful, they used their magic to stop large supernatural dangers. Travis also suspected that the priests weren’t above using their talents to influence decision-makers and affect the course of events to shape the outcome.
“They might not like the regular hunters, but there are too many angry ghosts and hungry monsters for the Sinistram to take them all on,” Brent said. “These situations pop up all over the country and the world. There aren’t enough priests anywhere to take care of all of them, even if they quit doing weddings, christenings, and funerals.”
“We’ve got to be missing something,” Travis fretted. “I guess that if no one protected people from ghosts and monsters, maybe people would be frightened into going back to church to save their souls, but that seems like a long shot.”
“They’d probably drink the liquor stores dry first,” Brent replied. “You can always make a deathbed confession, but getting a shot of whiskey in your last moments isn’t as easy.”
“Heathen.” Travis managed to joke despite the situation.
“Proudly.”
“I’m trying to think through all our contacts to see if anyone might have an inside track on what’s going on, and no one is coming to mind.” Travis knew he sounded as tired as he felt.
“We’re pretty well connected to the supernatural world, but not so much to the Vatican,” Brent said. “What about Father Anne?”
“She’s Episcopalian. So probably not.” Travis paused. “And before you ask, Father Pavel, Father Ryan, and Father Leo aren’t Sinistram, just regular priests. I don’t want to drag them into this. They won’t hear the gossip, and I won’t make them targets.”
“Fair enough,” Brent agreed.
“You know, the bruhaha with Sinistram and the whole issue with hunters being hunted might be completely unrelated,” Travis said.
Brent snorted. “When is anything in our lives simple like that?”
“As for his talk about ‘the end,’ that’s always been part of Sinistram lore,” Travis said. “They actually believe there will be an apocalypse that will scour the world and burn it clean. Weirdly enough, they seem to look forward to it, although they’ve been watching for signs and omens since the Order was founded. So far, we’re all still here.”
They spent the rest of the drive talking about anything except priests and paranormal problems. It was after dark when he pulled up to Brent’s house.
“Hey, did you see that?” Brent craned his neck to look at the night sky through the windshield.
“See what?”
“Falling stars,” Brent said, pointing. “My grandmother always told me to make a wish.”
Travis crossed himself. “Mine told me to say a prayer against evil. I think I like your grandma better.”
Brent reached for the car door.
“Wait.” Travis put a hand on Brent’s arm. “Something’s wrong.”
Brent gave him a sharp look. “Wrong, how?”
Before Travis could answer, a body landed on the hood and windshield with a thud, and a young, blond man flashed a fanged smile at them.
“Like that.” Travis slammed the Crown Vic into reverse, but the vampire managed to hang on.
