THE PAWN AND THE GRIMOIRE
Hey there everyone! I am back with more BB inspired nonsense which I like to call a story, so there it is, some new s**t. I really, really intend to make this one even darker and – hopefully – more sensual than Untouched. Admittedly, I'm fairly good when it comes to the dark part, so that much I can promise you guys. Soooo… let's just see how it works out! ;)
A/N: Grimoire = a textbook of magic. Such books typically include instructions on how to create magical objects like talismans and amulets, how to perform magical spells, charms and divination and also how to summon or invoke supernatural entities such as angels, spirits, and demons. (Wikipedia)
It had been a night just like that when I had been supposed to lose my life. I had not feared death, nor had I hesitated in its dreadful proximity, and I had felt no regrets for leaving a world that could offer nothing but misery and pain at least and utter boredom at most. Yes, I had made plenty of mistakes in my time. I had been a reckless child to begin with, and the same recklessness had stuck with me in my – admittedly few - adult years. So deeply wrong I had been in my ways that I had even ended up selling my very soul to the devil. And then, when the time had eventually come, the devil had come to collect.
You know, demons like to claim that all men are fools, mere puppets they can subdue with great ease. But is that really true? Alas for them, there are plenty of fools amongst their ranks as well. And so I had been proven that night, when instead of losing my life –and my soul - I'd ended up losing my humanity. On a whim of twisted fate, I had become one with the predator before me, my human self and that unholy, evil being strangely, abominably moulded into one.
Maybe it hadn't been such a big loss after all, but one can easily say that I had bitten, without my will, way more than I could chew. For what is it to be human? Surely there is a complex, comprehensive definition behind this simple, apparently straightforward word – human – but I have never bothered to look into the depths of it. For me, being human simply meant not to have this feral urge, this burning, insatiable desire to tear, rip apart and feed on the essence of that which is called 'man'. But I had been blessed – well, if someone like me could ever be worthy of any blessing – with enough self control to be able to lead a relatively safe existence in the shadows.
That night, when things were about to take a complete and unexpected turn – for better or worse, that was still to be decided - I was on my way to work. Jumping from building to building, letting the night air chill me and the wind play in my hair was a far more pleasant way to get there than taking the crowded subway, as long as it did not draw any unwanted attention. After all, I'd always enjoyed a nice 'walk'.
The night was still young and the club's entrance was already crowded – it was going to be a busy shift, I could tell. Oh, I know what you would say – a bodyguard at some shady nightclub, was that the best I had been able to achieve in my new circumstances? Really now… I told myself the same thing at first, but mind you, taking the spotlight in any way would have been a bad idea. For if creatures such as myself might have been at the 'top of the food chain', so to speak, our position on top of the power chain was and would always be the subject of dispute of a bloody, gruesome war. A war I had no wish to be part of, not until that night, at least. And so, my shitty job provided the low profile I had preferred to keep and plenty of 'food'. Of course, that was something I had to be extremely careful about, but what can I say? I had fully learned my lesson on recklessness before.
"Mr. Michaelis?"
I turned around to look at the man who had so formally addressed me. Not fitting in the picture at all, was he, I determined at a first glance. A black trench coat over a smart office suit, silk tie, golden rimmed spectacles adorning a severe but still handsome face framed by well-kept black hair, expensive cologne. Nope, definitely not fitting in the picture.
"Yes?"
"My name is Claude Faustus," he introduced himself in the same polite, neutral voice, "I was wondering if I could have a word with you…"
Have a word? Isn't that a bit cliché? Is he with the police or something? "Certainly. This way please," I invited him to advance further than the doorway, motioning towards a seat at the end of the bar. Well, he wasn't waving any badge in my face, at least not yet. He went and sat down, waiting for me to join him.
"Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Michaelis?" he asked, motioning for the bartender.
"No, thank you… I don't drink during working hours," Indeed… and not the kind of drink you'd offer… "So, what can I do for you, Mr. Faustus?"
He took a quick sip of his own mineral water and glanced directly at me. "Well, I suppose I might just as well get to the point," he said, "I have to say, Mr. Michaelis, that we've been watching you for a while now and so, you unusual abilities did not go unnoticed…"
"I don't know what you mean…" Is this man a hunter? And what exactly did he notice? It wasn't the moment to panic, not yet. I quickly assessed his figure and decided I could have easily taken him on if he got any sudden ideas. His movements seemed rather slow, like those of all people stuck in an office all day. He could have tried to pull out a gun from underneath his sharp clothes, but not fast enough. I decided he wasn't that much of a threat.
"For one, you're not the regular bulky type for this kind of job," Faustus explained," yet you don't seem to have a problem handling 'crisis situations'. No matter how ugly things get… and they do rather often around here, don't they, Mr. Michaelis…?"
That was something I could explain. I had a perfectly reasonable explanation for almost everything: combat skills – assiduous training, the red hue of my eyes – a rare genetic anomaly, and as for my feeding habits – well, that was something I was less able to explain reasonably, but I could always have served him a 'live' and rather painful explanation, had he chosen to ask… "True," I agreed with a light smile, "admittedly, I am trained for the job," I added briefly patting the gun safely tucked in my belt. "But it's hardly anything unusual, I am simply one hell of a bodyguard."
"Indeed… and we are in dire need of staff like you. Based on our previous assessment of your skills, I am here to offer you a job," he replied, digging inside his coat and producing a card. "It is far more dangerous than this one, but also significantly better remunerated… "
Offer me a job, he says… Judging by his appearance it's not that unlikely, he might work for a rich businessman of sorts, one who's gotten himself into more shit than he can deal with… "Is that so? What is it about, then?"
"I don't know how this will sound to you," Faustus replied, taking off his spectacles and beginning to wipe them carefully, "But the organization I work for is directly affiliated to the Vatican." He paused to assess the effect of his words, but I gave him nothing. "To put it simply, we exorcise and hunt demons of all kinds and breeds, and there's plenty out there to say the least."
So… he's a fucking hunter after all, I should have smelled that much… Not a very good one though, if he hasn't figured me out…
"I see… so, I take it you are a priest, Mr. Faustus? Because to tell you the truth, I'm hardly a religious man and I'm sure I don't look it either. Not the one who'd sign up for some crusade such as yours, I'm afraid"
"No, indeed," the priest agreed with a surprisingly confident smile, "but you look like the kind of man who is up for a good challenge, for a good fight, Mr. Michaelis. So if you're interested, come look for me any time. We work around the clock"
I fumbled with the card in my hand for a while after the man took his leave, feeling the soft, expensive paper impregnated with his faint but rather interesting scent between my fingers. The whole thing was crazy enough, to say the least. I didn't necessarily doubt the truth of his story, but there was clearly a suspicious side to it. Vatican affiliation? Probably true. All that stuff about demons? True as hell, that one. But them out recruiting random people like me instead of other priests, that was somewhat quite peculiar. That and the excessive funding, which was rather obvious. But still... 'I will now claim you life and your soul in the name of my master!' That memory, forever etched into me, by the very words of the creature I'd become one with. Who was this master, I wondered? Could I have found him? Could I at least have obtained an explanation about what had happened to me? Probably not, but what I could have had was my revenge.
NUIT. I had no idea what it could have meant, other than the French for 'night'. I read the card again, admitting that it had picked my curiosity – especially that particular scent. Claude Faustus… Father Faustus, really? How unusual, he didn't seem the type at all… Well, at least I could see what this was about…
A church, how fitting…
I glanced at the tall, ornate gothic doors before me with a sense of unease. Of course, I didn't expect to burst into flames or something once I stepped past the threshold, but still, there was a part of me wondering whether by any chance something foul was waiting for me behind those closed doors. It was past midnight and the church was empty, but well, he had said 'anytime'. I was just debating whether to just wait patiently for someone to show up, when I noticed a shadow slipping behind the remote pillars in the back. So, there was someone after all.
"Hello?"
The figure eventually moved into the light, revealing himself – rather dissapointingly it was just a choir boy. "Yes? Can I help you, sir?"
"Excuse me, yes. My name is Sebastian Michaelis, I'm looking for Father Faustus," I explained. "He said I could come anytime…" Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I saw the choir boy's pink lips twisting into a peculiar smirk as he took his time observing me.
"Father Faustus? " The hidden irony in his voice did not escape me, and neither did the coldness evident in his pale blue eyes. "Certainly, come this way, Mr. Michaelis…"
He led me to one side of the church, where the confessionals were, and pulled a thick velvet curtain aside. The boy pulled out a complicated set of keys and unlocked the metallic door behind it, revealing a narrow spiralled staircase going somewhere below. "You will want to watch your step now, Mr. Michaelis, these stairs are treacherous," he said, descending ahead of me. There was barely any light, so I went in carefully. Yes, his scent was there, however faint, mingled with the mould of the worn stone steps and blackened walls, and the persistent smell of oils burning in the few torches along the way.
"Here, you'd better hold on to me," the blonde boy suddenly offered, brusquely interrupting my inspection as his small, fragile hand slipped into my larger one. I hardly needed to be guided like this, as if I were a child, but I humoured him nevertheless, finding his thoughtfulness rather amusing. Oh, wasn't he lucky to be here and not outside in some dark alley or even back at the nightclub. Would he have held my hand like this, with that confident and almost flirtatious smile I could guess even in the dark, had he known what a delicious feast I would have made out of him...?
"This way."
Oh, well, what do you know! At the end of an equally narrow and ancient looking stone corridor there was an entirely different story – a modern time, fully equipped base of operations, buzzing with staff. Well, not staff like me apparently, if I were to consider Faustus' words. The choir boy continued to drag me by the hand as I stared at the multitude of computers, various screens and panels contained in glass offices, and – oh my!- an absolutely huge, extremely comprehensive gun rack. Now, that is quite an enjoyable sight!
Father Claude Faustus, although I had rather gotten to doubt that piece of information, was obviously waiting for me – judging by his lack of surprise – and received me in his large, sharp looking office. "Mr. Michaelis, welcome!" he greeted in a pleasant tone. He was dressed just as elegantly as on the night of our first encounter and I suddenly felt terribly underdressed for the occasion in my all-black, very casual outfit, and the matching black converses must have been the worst part of it.
"Alois, leave us..." the priest waved his hand in dismissal, and the boy withdrew with a barely refrained frown. Huh, each with his own I suppose – don't ask, don't tell...I thought, not that I cared, anyway.
"Mr. Michaelis, I'm glad you have finally decided to accept my invitation. As you can see, I was expecting you," he cut to the point without further formalities. I certainly preferred it that way, although... how presumptuous of this man to assume I'd show up for sure.
"I had to see it for myself and indeed, this place looks pretty impressive at a first glance. But it seems like you have plenty of personnel too, so how about you give me some more details as to why you would need me here?"
"You are quite observant, Mr. Michaelis, we do have plenty of support staff. The situation of our active personnel is however less fortunate, and we certainly don't have anyone like you." He spoke the last words pressing his fingers together as if to better emphasize the meaning of it, and then I realized it. "See, I am aware of your true nature, Mr. Michaelis. But this is not a problem for us, not at all. You're not the troublemaking kind, and it's obvious that your human side has remained dominant, despite the unfortunate merger you have been subjected to. So it's simple – under these circumstances we'd rather hire you..."
I snorted, examining my black nails thoughtfully. Damn, bullshit nail polish had gotten chipped already... "You'd rather hire me than kill me, that's what you mean, I suppose? And I have to ask... isn't it rather unethical for the Church to hire a demon, Father Faustus?"
"Not considering what it was that drove you here... you are not happy with yourself, Sebastian, and you want someone to pay for what has happened to you, I know that!" Faustus said gently, as if talking to a child. "We can help you get what you want and maybe even... redeem yourself." Well shit, when had this become such an intimate conversation about me and why wasn't I lying on some soft couch or something? Pfftttt...
I had always been amazed by the sheer, almost foolish confidence some people so boldly displayed. Honestly, did he not know that I could have escaped his headquarters with only sustaining some minor injuries at most? He did not appear to have taken any precautions about my coming there, and the people I'd seen earlier were, as he'd put it, support staff. And so was he, pretty much. Whoever were the worthy fighters amongst their ranks, the ones who must have been using that badass gun rack, they clearly weren't around.
"Fine then," I agreed without much enthusiasm," As long as there's a chance I might get what I want, I might just as well take it. Looks like you've got yourself a deal, Father Faustus, but as for the whole... redemption thing, I'd save my breath if I were you"
To be continued...
