Tate found his mother at her house and quickly filled her and Michael in on what had happened. He expected his mother to go berserk but it was Michael who was ready to leave immediately. Constance urged caution and the need for a plan, but there wasn't time. She and Tate could will themselves to the fog-enshrouded area but Michael had to take the slower, mortal route.

"Go," he told them. "I'll meet you there."

When they were gone, Michael grabbed the keys from the hook near the door and headed for the car. He had gone on several noisy joyrides in the thing over the past few weeks, terrorizing the local fauna as he laid tracks on the cracked, overgrown streets. This time, however, his needle-burying speed was justified.

He made it to the church in less than three minutes. He slammed on the brakes, causing the car to skid and come to a stop sideways in the center of the street. It wasn't a move just for show; the other vehicle would have to ram it if the driver wanted to pass without hitting the nearby light pole. And that was the only way out of town center.

Michael threw the car into park and yanked the keys out, then got out of the car. Onlookers, attracted by the commotion, were beginning to gather on the sidewalk near the church. He knew he cut an impressive figure in his noir-black Armani jacket and corduroy pants. He wore black leather Creeper-style Doc Martens and had his chin-length wavy blond hair pulled back from his face with a clip. Mother Constance didn't like the hairstyle, which made him favor it more.

He headed toward the church, chased by a cloud of noxious smoke from the car's overheated tires.

"Looks like I'm late to the party," he fake-smiled after shoving through the double-door entrance.

He took in the dynamic of the group gathered at the front, making a note of where and what everyone was. Tate, Constance, and Violet were there but he saw them only as an energy print, so he knew they were likely invisible to the other living beings.

"It's him," said the brawnier of the men who were with Father Jeremiah.

That got the full attention of everyone at the front of the church, who collectively looked to the new arrival. Michael loved having all eyes on him.

"My Lord," said Father Thomas with a bow. He lowered his eyes respectfully.

The two Enforcers with him did the same, with Brother Justice pushing Jeremiah into a bow as well. Evangelina bowed but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes off of Michael.

When she'd heard the Son of Satan had been born, she had envisioned something like the Lord of Darkness from the movie Legend, all obsidian skin and glistening horns. This young man was more of a rock star type. Human, and good-looking at that. He looked right at her then and she blushed and finally tore her gaze from him. She drew her hood down more so her features were better hidden and kept her eyes on the sidewalk.

"You seem to know me," Michael to the group in a genial tone that belied his feelings. He'd considered popping all of their hearts but it had been months since anything interesting had happened. "But... I don't know you. And I don't know what you're doing with my friend, there. What are you doing?"

At that, Justice let go of Jeremiah. The priest straightened and put a few steps between him and the Enforcers. He thought about joining Michael but was afraid that would make too strong a statement to his Order so he didn't, though he wanted to.

"I am Father Thomas, of the Order of Samael, and these are my brethren, Reverends Justice and Andrew." The older man motioned to each in turn. "Jeremiah is my son and he is part of our Order. He has been charged with dereliction of duty. He's to be taken to trial."

As Michael processed that, more of the ghosts from Murder House were beginning to gather. Word must have gotten out. In addition to Tate, Violet, and Constance, he could sense Patrick and Ben, and a couple of others he didn't know the names of but had seen their energy signatures at the house. They were all lurking unseen, and could easily provide him with more firepower if he needed it.

He'd never been more sure of himself and in control than he was at that moment. It was glorious.

"If there's a trial to be had," Michael said confidently. "Then I'll be the judge."

Father Thomas glanced back at the younger men with him. They had nothing to offer but confused looks. The priest turned his attention back to Michael. It was highly unorthodox but, considering who the younger man was, it was best to err to the side of caution. "As you wish, my Lord, but the matter should be addressed as soon as possible."

"Fine," smiled Michael, feeling the smile this time. He made a grand motion that encompassed the chapel. "We can use my church. The trial begins now."

—

The church was easily converted to a courtroom. The central dais at the front served as a stage for the trial. Michael had a tall-backed ornate chair in the center of the dais to sit in, plush with scarlet cushions. Jeremiah had a simpler chair that Father Thomas had put there. The two Enforcers stood not far behind him. Father Thomas and Evangelina sat in the front right pew nearest Jeremiah. The ghosts made themselves comfortable as well, scattered amongst the pews. Constance had a front row seat.

"Jeremiah, when you were sent here," Father Thomas intoned. The timbre of his voice was pitched perfectly for the vaulted ceiling. The temple in the compound had a high roof as well. "What was your Mission?"

The younger priest felt his heart lurch and he put his hand over his shirt, beneath which was the medallion of Samael he always wore. In stressful times, touching it usually instilled a sense of calm in him but the pendant was inert now. That only worsened his anxiety.

"To find the Antichrist and see that he was raised according to the tenets of our Lord, Samael," he answered, his voice steady despite his nerves. "Which I did. He's already quoted the Prayer for you, and several key verses from the Scrolls."

"His book knowledge is sound," Father Thomas agreed. He clasped his hands behind his back as he began to pace back and forth before the dais. Moving about helped him think. "But you should have brought him back to the Compound when he turned eighteen, if not sooner. Why did you not?"

Jeremiah frowned and sat forward in his chair. "The world was ending. Didn't seem the time for a road trip."

Father Thomas was unmoved. "You would have been safe to travel. You know that. And yet you remained here. Why?"

The younger priest licked his lips. "The trip seemed unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?"

"Michael has everything he needs here," Jeremiah said. "He has a devout following and they know they can find him here. He doesn't need to go to Utah to be told how to be himself."

"That is not a decision for you to make!" Father Thomas barked. His sharp words echoed in the vaulted room. "You knew your duty and ignored it! You had a responsibility to your sect and you had a responsibility to your wife, both of which you shirked. Do you deny it?"

Michael's attention went briefly to the robed woman, who fidgeted in her chair when she was mentioned. Tate openly stared at her, trying to mesh the idea of the priest being married with the peculiar figure the woman cut. Her skin was the color of cream, in a sickly way, and her blue eyes were deep-set and hollow. Tate couldn't blame Jeremiah for not wanting to go home to that.

"I didn't shirk my duties to the sect," Father Jeremiah protested. "Everything I've done in assisting to raise Michael was done in line with our tenets."

"So you were avoiding me?" Evangelina interrupted.

"Quiet, girl," Father Thomas snapped.

Her hands tightened to fists in her lap but she didn't say anything more.

"After Constance died, I couldn't leave," Jeremiah explained. "If I tried to take the boy out of state without his legal guardian, there would have been problems. After the world started to collapse, going anywhere seemed unnecessary when we had everything we needed here."

"That's not a decision for someone of your station," the older man argued.

As the conversation seemed to be looping, Michael decided to intercede. "So the issues," he said loudly. Everyone else fell silent. "Are that Father Jeremiah didn't teach me everything and he abandoned his wife. Easily fixed."

Michael looked to the eldest priest. "Father Thomas, you can teach me everything you think Father Jeremiah missed. Evangeline? -Lina? I know for a fact Father Jeremiah's been cheating on you with my grandmother, so I grant you a divorce, if you want one. For his dereliction, I sentence Father Jeremiah to hang on a cross outside the church for three days and nights. If he survives, you'll know he's been forgiven by My Father and will continue to do His work here, in New Jerusalem."

Stunned silence greeted the young man's charming smile.

...

Author's Note:

If this was a television show, at this point the show would probably fade on the cross being built outside. Cue end theme. Roll credits. Episode 2 is over. Next week, Michael explores his growing power and drives even worse in Episode 3: New Line. Which will added to this fic. See you in a week!