When you reach like half of this chapter, things get a little creepy. Just fair warning.
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18. Invaluable
Terri walked home with her. By the time the door of the café closed behind them, more explaining was on schedule. Terri didn't have much to tell, only adding details of her second encounter with the Devil, while Vera shared all her information from Sergeant Mahoney. It was not a nice talk. Adding she met two members of a freaking cult, sometimes not understanding shit of they were saying… it was a pretty good start for turning the bottle of whiskey bottom up. Vera opened the fridge once they were in her apartment, ready to fulfil her desire.
"Just… hold on a second. You agreed to meet them. On Thursday?" Terri reassured herself, frowning as Vera pulled out the bottle and gave her a disappointed look.
Vera sighed and returned it on its place, putting the kettle on instead – perhaps she could sneak a drop in her coffee without being spotted. She still felt Terri's eyes on her though.
"Yeah," she confirmed, mouth dry at the thought.
Terri watched her expectantly as if she was waiting for her to continue. Vera had nothing more to say. Terri huffed.
"Alright. And you gonna tell the police about it when?"
Yeah, Vera had plenty of time to think it through during the rest of their shift. And the result was simple. And scary.
"Not yet," she whispered. "Tea? Coffee?"
Terri turned her palms up, looking at her incredulously. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she burst out. Huh, she did that a lot these days. Perhaps there was something wrong.
Of course she knew why Terri was mad, freaking out at her statement. It was just… it made sense.
"It would be useless," she explained.
Terri exploded again. "Useless?! You mean you going alone into the freaky cult base-"
"But that's it, Terri! I don't think I'm going there!" Vera shot back. "The girl – Eileen – she doesn't trust me, obviously. But she seemed to be okay with me going to the location Egan offered. They are taking me somewhere else. Just in case that, I don't know, I had police as my backup? And what if it doesn't work out at all? The cops will laugh to my face."
"Because that's what really matters. Definitely worth your life or something," Terri spitted out, disgusted. "Gimme that bottle."
Vera's eyebrows shot up as Terri held out her hand in anticipation. It seemed there would be no need for sneaking whiskey in her coffee after all. She opened the fridge again, handing the whiskey to her friend.
"Look, Terri, it's just… I don't want to mess this up," Vera admitted in a conciliatory manner.
Terri frowned at her, worries all over her face, before she gulped the alcohol, grimacing as the warming, yet cold liquid flowed down her throat.
"You want to do this because Matt can't. You don't want to disappoint him," she guessed and Vera opened her mouth, no sound coming out. That was- shit, she sometimes forgot how good Terri was.
Vera raised one corner of her lips in sad smile, taking the bottle from her. "Is that so wrong?"
"Well, it is a terrible idea. You tell me. You think it's worth the trouble?" she challenged her, already knowing what her answer would be. It reminded her of the Trish talk. 'Do you think it's worth it?'
Vera turned the bottle bottom up before speaking up. "Yeah, about that…"
Terri couldn't believe Vera was about to be quoted in Trish talk. When she was leaving, she was still shooting her incredulous glances, alternating them with lingering worried looks. Vera assured her it was going to be alright, perhaps speaking rather to herself.
Vera called her mum. It was a while since they spoke and despite the fact she had no real news (not the ones she would be willing to share, because this time, her mum would fly across the ocean and dragged her home if she found out what was Vera up to), she wanted to do it. Her mum seemed to be genuinely happy for her when she told her about the fit-box lessons going well, asking her whether she found friends among the participants – she mentioned Bryan, regretting it instantly. She quickly changed the topic to the dinner with Trish, explaining her mum how they met in a first place. Apparently, she was satisfied.
She caught up with Marky, Anna and Jitka as well. She found out Marky was freaking out about her wedding, still unable to put the seating plan together to everyone's satisfaction, Anna proudly and shamelessly spilled that she slept with her boyfriend and Jitka… well. Jitka was fighting with Karel, first huge fight in their two years long relationship (how cool and terrifying was that), so she was bundle of nerves and tears. Vera could relate. She tried to react the right way to each of them, comforting Jíťa, cause she definitely needed it the most and she seemed to be quite open, knowing Vera was in rather bad place herself. Vera would choose all the fighting in the world over what was happening with Matt, but she couldn't tell her that.
She cleaned up at the apartment, then at Fogwell's, staying there much longer than she should to figure out all the requested songs she had on her list. She went to bed exhausted; she woke up feeling exactly the same, only with new nightmare on her disposal – in her dream, she led a nail through Collins' hand. Vera woke up before it went on, but she spent solid minutes hyperventilating, fighting the waves of nausea.
Trish opened the discussion on vigilante justice with the last thank you note for the Devil, highlighting the date of his last possible appearance. Then she talked about the other people, who apparently decided to follow his footsteps, happily announcing that she managed to ask the girl from Collins' case had to say about it. Listening to her own words, Vera wondered – she would definitely have a lot to add if Trish asked her only few days later. Not that she would call to Trish Talk to refine her opinion – god knew the Worshippers might be listening.
Vera was silently freaking out about the meeting. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to call the police, because she was fucking scared. She knew she shouldn't be a target, but she was afraid she might do something to piss them off and the last thing she wanted, was to end up being nailed to a cross by herself. And even if she didn't, who knew what they would want her to do? Terri spoke of a ritual – what if it was some kind of a test? Beat someone up to prove she was worthy to be one of the twisted vigilante group? God forbid, kill someone?
She was barely listening to the opinions of other people – she needed to head to Fogwell's. She put the radio to her headphones while walking there. She was sure the boy talking at the moment – he introduced himself as Vlad – was one of them, because he was heated about the issue, too emotional, speaking in a voice that ran down her spine like cold fingers, making her shiver. She was honestly glad when Trish politely stopped him, giving space to someone else.
There was a new girl on the lesson – she approached Vera, carefully asking whether she could join, that she heard about the lessons from a friend, but apparently forgot to get phone number from her. Vera didn't want to pry, still little dazed from the discussion she was listening before, so she just checked the paper, finding out there were two blank spaces, letting her join with a smile, borrowing her wraps, first lesson free and all that. Bonnie seemed delighted, taking Vera's number and during the lesson, Vera found herself watching her – she was really enjoying herself. With people like this, Vera forgot her worries for a while at least.
"You're still going tonight?" Terri demanded when their changed shifts, watching Vera with the same worried expression she wore on Tuesday.
Vera sighed, clenching her fists inconspicuously, so her hands wouldn't tremble, shooting Terri a brave smile. "Yeah, sure."
Terri frowned, reading her like an open book. "You're scared shitless."
"I'm scared shitless," Vera quickly agreed, letting out a nervous laugh.
"You can still back out, you know. Or, I don't know, call some help."
Vera thought of that, of course she did. More than once. And it wasn't just the police – she actually thought of the Avengers, but firstly, she didn't want to bother them with something like this, secondly, they would ask about Matt, which would mean involving them into the Stick mess despite Matt's wish (even though at this point – screw you, Matt) and thirdly, if the Avengers took down the Devil Worshippers only few days after Mahoney told Vera, she was sure it would raise some uncomfortable questions. As for the police itself, Vera still had the same reasons for not calling them just yet. It was complicated.
"Yeah, I know. But at the same time, I can't."
It was Terri's turn to sigh. "Alright. At least tell me where the meeting is. And call me when you get home for god's sake. It's at nine, right? If I don't hear from you till midnight, I'm calling the cops," Terri offered, pleading eyes burning into Vera's, making her insides to twist in guilt. Terri really worried about her. Not that she could blame her. She had her own fear to deal with. This, she could do though.
"Okay. Thanks. Pier 92/94. And make it one a.m. I have no idea what's gonna happen," she bargained, knowing it was a right thing to do. This was good. Reasonable. She would theoretically have a backup and it wouldn't have to blow up to her face. Hopefully.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Thank you, Terri. I will feel safer this way. I really appreciate this. You helping. It means a lot," Vera smiled at her honestly and Terri whined, pulling her into a crushing hug.
"You're a damn idiot and if you get yourself hurt, I will kick your ass, Mechy," Terri declared, voice deadly serious.
Vera couldn't help chuckling, squeezing her back much more carefully than she did. "Wouldn't that be kinda counter-productive?"
Terri tightened her grip despite Vera thinking it wasn't even possible. "Shove your sass to your ass. And take the brass knuckles with you."
Vera froze in shock as Terri let go. She examined her friend's face, but there was nothing but seriousness – Terri meant it. She wanted Vera to- huh. That was… cool. She wondered how much self-repression it took Terri to say that. Man, she was awesome.
"Thanks. I will." And with those words, she went to face the scariest thing she ever had in her life. Considering last few months, that said something.
Vera regretted she didn't take her brass knuckles. She wanted to have free hands, so she only shoved a phone to her pocket. She called herself an idiot multiple times as she walked rather slowly, each of her muscles tight, ready to flee.
Docks were a scary place, especially at night. Huge containers, dark corners, abandoned looking buildings, tall derricks and shadows all around, making her heart beating agonizingly fast. When Vera passed a lonely figure, she quickened her pace, feeling its gaze on her, measuring her from head to toe. She almost sighed in relief when she hit the right number and scanned her surroundings for anyone familiar.
"This way," a voice hissed from behind her and she jumped at the sound, hand shooting to her heart, spinning on her heals. Very brave, Veronika. Show them how very much they shouldn't want you.
She recognized him – it was Egan. He beckoned to his left and she followed him wordlessly, partly because she didn't know if she was allowed to speak and partly because she wasn't quite able to do so. She walked by his side in silence – where the hell was he leading her –, worried to even shoot him a glance. She was afraid she would do something, a tiny misstep, and she would be out (or nailed). She mustn't do that.
"Nice speech," he hummed unexpectedly, making her wince despite his almost gentle tone. She had no idea what he was talking about. "In the radio. You made quite an impression. We decided you can meet all of us tonight, we'll perform the ritual together."
Her heart jumped, mixture of excitement, satisfaction and endless fear. She had been afraid of the consequences of what she had said to Trish – now it seemed it was for a good cause. She was meeting the whole group tonight. That might me a good thing. But how many were there? And most importantly, what the hell the ritual was? Last time she heard of a ritual associated with the Devil Worshippers, they fucking killed someone.
No doprdele. Was that what was happening tonight? What if she was the one who should-
Vera stumbled over her own feet, deliberately shooting her arm to catch on something. Or someone. Egan looked at her with one eyebrow raised.
She cleared her throat. "Sorry. Just… I didn't expect that, took me by surprise." He still didn't seem convinced. "I'm nervous. It's an honour I'm not sure I deserve."
Vera was such a shitty liar. Apparently, Egan was a shitty people-reader, because he flashed her a patronizing smile.
"There's nothing to worry about. Like I said, you made an impression."
Vera hesitantly returned the smile and they spend the rest of their journey – about five minutes – in silence. They stopped in front of a warehouse, which seemed to be abandoned – of course they were hiding in such a place, alleyways and warehouses belonged with shady stuff, she always knew that. Vera measured the building with distrust, searching for anything that could help her to identify it later; there was no company sign, but there was a small number. 600 W. Good to know.
"Don't speak unless you are asked to do so. Walk into the middle. The rest you'll learn later," he instructed her in low voice, somehow solemn, and she gulped, the lump in her throat growing.
If there is a dying person or a rotting corpse, I'm calling the cops. Her stomach rolled at the idea. Good thing she didn't eat dinner.
Vera nodded, trying to look resolute and confident and they circled the warehouse, squeaky metal door opening. Egan entered it, while Vera spent few seconds calming herself down, trying to convince herself that running away now was a really bad idea. She took one deep breath and followed him inside, the door shutting behind her feeling like sealing a death sentence.
The space was poorly illuminated, but the first thing she noticed was that there was no cross. She counted that as a win. Slightly calmer, she examined the room – it was mostly empty, tens of candles all around. In its middle, there were nine people standing, Egan joining them, finishing what resembled a circle, but not entirely, because there were gaps. The people seemed to be in pairs.
Coming closer, her eyes adjusting, she could see it wasn't a circle they wanted to create – they were standing at the points of a pentagram, drew by something red – Vera repressed a shiver, hoping it wasn't blood. But Egan took few steps in the middle, bending down to a bowl, raising a knife. Before Vera could even think of why, he cut his palm without hesitation, scaring the shit out of her – he bended again and let the drops of his blood fall to the bowl, the sound echoing in the large space as everyone was scarily quiet. Dark spots danced on the edges of her vision, her knees feeling weak. This was sick. Yet, she pressed her lips together to stop herself from screaming, walking to the middle, passing two motionless figures – their fists were clenched, blood dripping from it as well.
Don't throw up. Don't.
Egan left her in the centre, next to the bowl – Jesus, how the hell there was still so much blood in it if the pentagram was painted with it –, clueless. When he completed the pentagram, he looked at her, small smile on his lips. There was something creepy in his smile, something twisted he didn't let out before. Shriver ran down her spine, but she forced herself to return his gaze, no matter how darkly it seemed to wrap her soul as he was glaring at it through her eyes.
"Welcome everyone, welcome here at this blessed night. Tonight is a night of celebration."
Vera was freaked out by his words. He spoke them as if they were true, coming right from his heart. Which was something she could appreciate, unless it was creepy as this. She clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling, heavy feeling in her stomach. This was so wrong.
"We're embracing a new member, new sister to our fellowship. She believes in what we believe." You wish. "She's ready to honour and serve our master, our father." Because that's not fucked up at all. "To make her feel welcomed, I suggest we introduce ourselves - the true us, without the masks we're wearing to hide from the outside world, which doesn't understand. Not yet."
Vera was seriously sick at this point. She turned her head to Egan's left as he beckoned to a girl, black-haired, obviously, dresses all in black – they all were, but honestly, that was the least creepy thing about them – and she raised her head to Vera, meeting her eyes.
"I'm Dabria. I'm the angel of death," she whispered, yet her voice was clear and strong.Vera froze, unsure how to react to such a statement. It turned out she didn't have to – the girl lowered her gaze again, while the boy next to her spoke up, same strength in his voice.
"I'm Dugald. Dark stranger." Vera took a second to appreciate how weird the names were, biting her tongue. When he looked down again, Egan continued.
"My name is Egan. Fire."
Vera knew the girl standing by his side – and she suddenly understood what were the words they spoke after their names – it was the meaning of the names. And Vera was sure they were fake; they stood for what they were, what they felt to be under their masks. In her mind, she allowed herself to smile a little – they would never believe who was under the mask of a man who was called the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.
"Eileen. Torch of light," she introduced herself sharply and Vera came to conclusion she did not like her any better than before.
"Viggo. Battle."
"Vlad." The boy who called to Trish talk, Vera remembered. The one who was so emotional. He introduced himself his fake name on the radio as well. That was something. "I'm ruler of the world."
"I'm Ilda, fighting a war."
Vera was finally sensing a pattern and she kept her jaw from dropping by the power of her will. They were standing in pairs. Two people on each point of the pentagram. Two people, whose names started with the same letter. And the letters weren't random. She almost laughed, but she was sure it would sound hysterical.
Dabria and Dugald. Egan and Eileen. Viggo and Vlad. Ilda. The last three people would be called something starting with I and L. Unbelievable. At least she would fit in. If they would actually let her have her name.
"My name is Isandro. I'm the one who frees men."
When Vera looked at the last pair, her heart stopped. It was a boy and a girl. And she knew the girl. Her name was Bonnie. She came to her lesson yesterday, claiming she heard from a friend. What the actual- that couldn't be a coincidence, could it?
They were what, spying on her? Her head was spinning.
Smug smile appeared of the girl's lips as she guessed Vera recognized her. "I'm Lilith. The woman of the night," she announced. Lilith my ass.
"And I'm Liam. I stand for strong mind and protection."
A single clap of hands made Vera wince. She quickly turned to its source, finding Egan with his hands clenched, looking straight to her eyes once again. It was really creepy.
"Thank you all. Now, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner to think about your real name, a one that should have been given to you when born. I came up with my own proposition. It's clear you have an extraordinary connection with our master, being saved so many times. It means you're essential for a reason we don't understand yet, but we will soon, I have no doubt. I choose the name Latonya. Invaluable. Do you accept?"
Her breath hitched, lips parting in shock. Egan choose her a name. And the meaning? She didn't feel the meaning harmonized with the others very well, but sure there was something about it, that felt… right. And she had a feeling she mustn't refuse anyway.
"Yes," she breathed and he smiled once more. A real ray of sunshine, wasn't he?
"Please, bond with us." He nodded toward the bowl and the knife and Vera felt her eyes going wide. Jesus. That was not sanitary. Somehow, it was the smallest problem she had with it. But they were waiting, watching her expectantly. She gulped, bending down just like Egan did before, taking the blade in her right hand. It had a pentagram on its handle. Of course it did. Before she could change her mind, she quickly ran the blade across her left palm, biting her cheek to stop herself from hissing in pain. She tasted blood in her mouth as she did so. Because apparently there wasn't enough blood that night already.
Vera's gaze flickered to Egan, but his eyes gaze was aimed to the bowl. Right. Not creepy, not creepy, not creepy. She let her blood drop in the bowl with a sickening wet sound.
Don't. Throw. Up.
"In Devil we trust," ten voices sounded in scary synchronicity, making her shiver.
Vera carefully placed the knife back where it was, looking to Egan again, because apparently he was the big boss around here. A cult leader. She was sure his mum was proud.
Also, she figured out sarcasm was not only a great weapon against pain, but also against her fear.
"Latonya," Bonnie/Lilith addressed her and she turned to her, surprised. God, her new name was stupid. "There is only one more thing, before you become one of us in his eyes."
Yeah, I bet there is.
Vera nodded in understanding, her freak out level reaching the top. What exactly was the last thing? Please, don't say 'kill someone', don't say 'kill someone'…
Lilith beckoned to where Egan was standing seconds ago, his place suddenly empty. Door she hadn't register before slammed behind him, as he was coming back. (She knew the warehouse looked bigger from outside! There must have been another room. She was just too terrified to actually notice.) In his hands, he carried something Vera definitely hadn't seen before either. Where the hell did they had it? Where the hell did they even get hold on something like this?
Egan was wearing thick gloves as he held it in his hands, so he wouldn't burn himself. He was going to burn her though. He carried a fucking branding iron. She knew what the symbol would be even before he was close enough for her to recognize it. A pentagram. She couldn't help gulping at the sight, nails digging to her palms keeping herself from running the hell away from this madness.
They were lunatics. Vera knew they were lunatics, but she had no idea they felt a need to burn it to their skin. Lilith approached her together with Egan, whose lips were spread into a small proud smile. Lunatic. Maniac. Nut job. She could go on. She couldn't say any of this out loud, but she wanted to scream it at the top of her lungs.
Vera felt the heat radiating from the iron, strong urge to throw up taking over. She was sure her face was pale as sheet of paper, visible in the faint light of the candles. And the burning iron.
Ježišmarja.
Lilith rolled up the hem of her top, exposing a scar - pentagram of almost a size of palm – placed above her hip. New wave of nausea washed over Vera. "Where do you want it?" she challenged her, voice deadly serious.
Vera squeezed her eyes shut, trying to figure out a place where it would hurt the least. And where no one could possibly see it. Like ever. She hesitantly rolled her top up as well, turning her back to them, looking over her shoulder.
"Right side. Slightly above lower back," she whispered, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking. She wasn't completely successful.
"Whoa, what's this scar from? Looks quite fresh," Egan demanded, astonished eyes piercing into hers. She lowered her gaze, taken aback by the question. What the hell was she supposed to say?
She sighed. "Katana."
He gasped and her gaze flickered to his face. His lips were parted in silent shock. She felt Lilith's eyes on her too.
"It was… shortly before he disappeared. The fourth save," Vera admitted, leaving out the one time he came too late, Jessica being faster than him. And the fact that the last time, he lost, no matter how hard he tried.
Egan was absolutely awe-struck. "He saved you four times?!"
Vera closed her eyes as she heard a wave of whispers rising. "Yeah," she breathed in agreement.
"Invaluable indeed," Lilith murmured and gestured to Egan to do what he was meant to do. Vera quickly turned her head back to the front, gritting her teeth in anticipation of pain. She couldn't prepare for that enough.
The second the burning surface met her skin, she hissed, all muscles in her body tensing, ready to run from the flame licking her back, pain shooting through her back to her leg. She felt her nails reopen the wound on her palm as she dug too deep, stopping herself from jerking away, tears escaping her eyes as she squeezed them too tightly. It could only be seconds, but each of those dragged like an hour. Then the worse fire was gone, itching and burning remaining. Just like the brand. The scar.
"In Devil I trust," Lilith breathed to her ear, Vera barely hearing her over the buzzing in hers ears and her harsh breaths. It took her a while to realize Lilith wanted her to say that.
Vera gulped, blinking away her tears, unable to look up to anyone's face.
"In Devil I trust," she declared, ten voices responding her in unity again.
"In Devil we trust."
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Yeah. I guess I have nothing to say to this chapter. Just a friendly reminder the shit they do is not exactly Satanism.
Also, I am not crazy, not in that way anyway. And thanks for putting up with me.