After the shower, James puts on his pajamas and intends to head for the bedroom but goes to the kitchen instead. There are too many annoying thoughts, and they won't form a coherent system. He sits down at the kitchen table and sees his son's drawing from the evening before: it is undoubtedly he, James, kneeling and smiling. This is much better than the previous drawing of a burning car.
The thoughts about that abnormally successful killer Thorn become mixed with the thoughts about his son and his gift of prophecy. Awesome. Now James will definitely lie awake all night. However, things might still get better. Maybe in a few years, an owl will fly to his son and invite him to Hogwarts. Or wherever owls invite American wizards. A shadow falls on the drawing, and, noticing it, James looks up. Having failed to wait for him in bed again, Patrick has come to take him to the bedroom. Both his hands on the table, he frowns intently and disapprovingly.
"Thorn again," he says, and it's a statement, not a question. "You're obsessed with him, you know. I wish you just fucked him, honestly."
"Do you?" James asks, completely taken aback.
"Well, what's happening now is much worse. Let's go to bed."
"I won't be able to fall asleep," James says. "You go to sleep, I need to think about it."
"You need to relax. Let me help you."
Patrick walks around the table and James turns to him, still looking at him guiltily. He kneels on the floor, pulls down James's pajama pants and takes his as yet soft cock in his mouth. James exhales and lets Patrick do everything, not even trying to control the process. He feels arousal washing over him little by little, chasing away both tiredness and the unwanted thoughts. After he orgasms and is still trying to catch his breath, James suddenly realizes that he's really relaxed. They haven't had sex for… How long has it been, a week, more? Maybe that's why he's so jumpy.
"You're right, as usual," James says and kisses Patrick on the mouth gratefully. "Let's go to bed."
And then someone rings the gate bell. The camera turns on: there is a woman standing there. It's perfect timing and really suspicious.
"You're not going to let her in, are you?" Patrick asks. "For God's sake, it's midnight, what on earth does she want?"
The woman rings again. She's persistent.
"Please open the gate!" she keeps repeating, over and over. "This is very important. This is vital. This is about Damien Thorn."
That's it, all hopes for quiet sex and equally quiet sleep went to hell. Damned Thorn seems to get them everywhere. James goes to fetch his gun, and then he presses the button.
Someone has died, he thinks, Thorn has killed someone again and left no evidence. Someone was found with their throat torn to shreds or burned to ashes again.
"Mr. Shay," the woman says with a thick accent. "I'm from the Vatican. My name is Greta Fraueva. And I need your help. It's you who investigates the occurrences surrounding Damien Thorn, isn't it?"
James listens to her wording suspiciously and, naturally, asks, "Do you have any information on this subject? Because I can't share my own, which I hope is understandable."
In response, she shows him her bag and a thick frayed pile of papers peeking out of it.
"I need you to understand something."
They let the woman enter the kitchen. The situation is strange: two men in their pajamas, one of them has just caught his breath after an orgasm, and the other is still in excited anticipation, and a stranger in a strict simple dress who is excited for a completely different reason.
Miss Fraueva smiles at them, and suddenly this smile seems to light up the whole kitchen – as if a bright ray of sunlight has broken through the clouds and a dove has soared. Something like that. She opens the folder she brought with her and puts the papers on the table. They contain newspaper clippings, photographs, copies of some documents – all of them illustrate her story about the little Antichrist, from his childhood to the present day. And everything that would have made James and Patrick laugh before becomes logical and natural. But not because of these newspapers and photos. Every word she says is filled with love, James suddenly realizes. Love for them, for the world, for Thorn himself, who, it turns out, didn't kill anyone.
"You don't have enough data," he interrupts suddenly. "Thorn has spent a night in a mental hospital recently. He tried to kill himself."
Then she closes her eyes and whispers something – must be a prayer – and when she opens them again, tears are running down her cheeks.
"Poor boy," she says, "of course he wouldn't be able to do it. But now everything will be easier. If he agrees to do it himself."
"Agrees to what, death?" James asks.
"He doesn't know yet that he can only be killed with the seven daggers of Megiddo. But now... Now, if that's what he wants, everything will be fine. His father keeps a close watch on everyone who tried to kill him, that's why none of his enemies have survived. But now, if he agrees, he can be killed with the seven daggers on an altar – and his soul will disappear forever. It's the best he can get, this poor poor boy."
"Not all of his enemies are dead," James argues, not willing to address this delicate and obscure subject of soul-killing. "The dog I shot almost ripped my throat out. Then my car caught fire and I barely managed to get out."
She smiles at him again, and then he realizes that she understood everything about him and Patrick right away, just didn't pay attention.
"They didn't try to kill you," she explains to him like he's a baby or an idiot. "They tried to intimidate you. All those who were his enemies are dead, but you are not his enemy."
And she doesn't have to continue, he understands everything perfectly well. He is not an enemy to the Antichrist, because he lives in sin. In the sin of Sodom. Which is an abomination to the Lord. James remembers all these Bible lines perfectly; it's hard not to know them when you have to investigate hate crimes from time to time. He comes across these phrases too often to forget them.
"Mr. Shay," she says. "If you want to stand with Christ, do penance. Accept Christ as your Savior."
"Yes," he agrees, nodding slowly. "This changes everything. I was an atheist two hours ago," he adds sheepishly.
"We never hate a sinner, only a sin," Miss Fraueva continues, and James feels once again as if a heavenly light has lit up his kitchen, and silent Patrick, and the whole house. And Jacob who is sleeping peacefully on the second floor.
"I'll go to the nearest church tomorrow," he promises. "Tomorrow all my family will do penance and take communion."
Then, having found out what she wanted and sowed the right seeds, she leaves. James stares at the surveillance video, waiting for her to walk out the gate. Then he grabs the phone and says, "Thorn?"
He hears a muffled 'mmm' and realizes that it's 2 am and Thorn is asleep. The earth is about to collapse, and he's sleeping. He'll sleep through the end of the world. And this man is supposed to be the Antichrist, for fuck's sake.
"Thorn, this is detective Shay."
His words make the right impression: Thorn's voice immediately becomes frightened.
"Who has died? Simone? Amani?"
"None of them, as far as I know. However, you're going to die soon. Get out of New York immediately, you're being hunted. And for God's sake, don't talk to women you don't know.
"What?"
"One of them has just come to see me. Greta Fraueva. Don't ever try to be alone with her. I'll send you a screenshot from my camera so you know who to watch out for. Keep your head down, lay low, and I'll leak information to you. Now get out of your house and of New York right now! Don't you dare to agree with her on anything, the world needs you. You are our only hope."
"Don't tell me you love me and do this for me," Thorn seems more terrified by Shay's behavior than by the prospect of dying at the hands of an unknown woman.
"Like hell. I've got a family," Shay says, suddenly smiling. "That's it, you have a minute to get ready, go!"
He hangs up.
"Have you just defected to the Antichrist?" Patrick asks.
Patrick still didn't understand the most important thing.
"She needed just a couple of hours to convince us of the existence of Satan and all that," James says, trying to make it as clear as possible. "If she comes to him, five minutes will be enough for him to agree to go to any temple and lie down on an altar and let himself be killed with the seven daggers. And then we'll be left with only this Christ of theirs and his victory."
Patrick still doesn't get it. He usually grasps things much faster.
"And then we'll have to repent of being together. Of being a family. And even of that blowjob you've given me recently."
James pours himself some water because his throat is completely dry.
"If everything we do is an abomination to their God, then their God is an abomination to me."