Peter was pacing the living room nervously, looking at the clock intermittently, then walking up to the window and watching the road. It was almost an hour since Marcus sent him the message that he was on his way back. The drive shouldn't have taken more than 30 minutes. Even though there might've been several reasons why Marcus wasn't already home, parked on the couch and explaining just what was the emergency with Tomas, none of those explained why Marcus wasn't picking up his damn phone.
There was a bad feeling gnawing in the pit of Peter's stomach, a long forgotten whisper of 'danger' in the back of his mind running in a loop. He knew something must've happened and he cursed the fact the work kept him late. By the time he arrived home the house was empty and all he got in explanation was a short call from Marcus saying that Tomas is in some trouble and he's going after him.
"Do you want me to come there?" Peter asked upon hearing that. There was some hesitation, but then Marcus declined.
"No, it'll be okay. He just needs to talk. If there was a problem I'll call. Dinner is in the oven, all yours. I've already had some."
"And you're alive to tell the tale? Impressive," Peter joked, then sobered. "If there's any sign of trouble-"
"I'll call. But you know, I can handle this stuff," Marcus said and Peter could read the silent 'I've been handling this for over twenty years' loud and clear.
"I know. But you don't have to do it alone. Partners, right?"
There was silence then a sigh and Peter could just imagine the small smile tugging on his lover's lips.
"Love you," Marcus said and Peter, as usual, said "Love you too."
He came home, ate the mostly dry but surprisingly not charred meatloaf and relaxed on the couch, the phone next to him. He smiled when Marcus texted him he was on his way home. The situation couldn't have been so dire; otherwise he would've called to fill him in. Peter idly changed the channels on the TV, wondering just what Tomas's emergency was and hoping the kid was okay. Half an hour went by and there was no sign of Marcus. Still, Peter didn't worry that much. He might be caught in some traffic or just stopped by at a shop. Fifteen minutes later Peter looked at his phone which was lying there dark. No message. With a sigh, and risking to be called an overprotective boyfriend or a mother hen, he dialed Marcus's number. The phone went straight to voice mail and suddenly Peter's mouth felt parched. He wasn't panicking, not yet. Marcus could've just forgotten to charge the battery...
Peter waited ten more minutes, but there was no sign of the car, no sign of Marcus. His mind was filled with images of gruesome car accidents, but at the same time his gut churned with thoughts of demons and people with cut throats and missing hearts or other organs. No, this was no child's play and he shouldn't have become so complacent. The fact he left the cruelties of war behind a few years ago didn't mean there was peace on the home front.
With the feeling of dread, Peter dialed Tomas's cell phone and felt a momentary relief when he heard it ringing. If the kid was alright, Marcus could've just broken his phone or something. But the longer the phone rang the worse was the feeling of dread. He could feel cold sweat on his skin and his heart beating hard as Tomas's phone went to voice mail. Peter tried two more times only to come to the conclusion that Tomas wasn't going to pick up his phone either. And knowing the kid there was no chance he was ignoring the phone, not when Olivia kept using it to check on him. She would kill him if he ignored the phone.
Peter was standing by the window for two more minutes, the phone held tight in his hand while he tried to calm his breathing. Something was wrong that was for sure. Whatever happened, Marcus and Tomas needed help and Peter was damned if he would just wait around like a helpless lug.
He and Marcus had already discussed some worst case scenarios; they just didn't think they would come to them so soon. And having both Tomas and Marcus vanish on him definitely wasn't in one of their back up plans. But thinking about back up, Peter knew it was time to call in help. Marcus already made the mistake of going alone; Peter wasn't going to make the same one.
Marcus couldn't believe what was happening. At first he felt stupid when he woke up, tied to a chair in a cold empty room without windows. It looked like an office in some warehouse, at least if the echo of voices and sounds from afar was anything to go by. There was nothing, just a light bulb flickering above, a concrete floor and another chair, with a clearly unconscious occupant. Marcus blinked then shook his head to clear it. Whoever hit him made a good job of it. He could feel blood trickling down the back of his neck. Everything was spinning and it took him a moment to get his thoughts straight, to remember where he was, who he was. But then it all came rushing back with startling quality and he recognized the slumped form of the boy to his right as Tomas.
His insides churned and he felt the breath come out in a short gasp with the realization that he wasn't able to protect the boy. They were alone in the room, just him and unconscious Tomas. At least Marcus hoped the kid was only unconscious. He could see blood trickling down his face from a head wound, but no other bruises or sign of violence. The chest was rising regularly in calm breaths.
"Tomas?" Marcus hissed, keeping his voice down, but Tomas didn't react and that sent a spike of worry through his heart, along with panic. He tried to figure out what exactly happened or why. Why did they attack now?
That question was answered within a moment, when father Simon walked in accompanied by Maria Walters. The woman looked out of place and nervous, but she still held her head up high and there was coldness in her eyes. Marcus knew there was something that made her broken, that threw her in the path of evil, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He sneered, even as father Simon stepped right up to him with a grin on his face and a second pupil glaring from his right eye.
"Ah, look who's awake. Our guest of honor, the great father Marcus Keane himself!"
Maria clenched her teeth but didn't reply or otherwise react. Behind her, two men appeared. Their empty dead eyes and holsters with guns clearly stating they were just henchmen, maybe some lower demons trying out the flesh suit. Marcus gave them no notice. They wouldn't lift a finger without Simon's command, same as Maria.
"I don't remember being invited to a party," Marcus said through dry throat. "Sorry if my appearance isn't up to par."
Father Simon gave him a searching look then howled with laughter, as if Marcus said such a great joke. Marcus barely forced down the shudder of disgust upon hearing that sound.
"I see you already know my name, but I don't know yours."
Simon stopped laughing and instead tutted.
"Ah, don't tell me the great exorcist Marcus Keane didn't do his homework. Oh wait, you're not an exorcist anymore. Or a priest, for that matter." There was a glint in Simon's eyes as he watched, waiting for reaction.
Marcus wasn't willing to give him one. He didn't think of himself as a priest for a long time, maybe never. He gave up the title easily. As for being an exorcist... that wasn't something that could be given up in his mind. The moment God touched him and lent him His power to cast out demons, Marcus became an exorcist. It was such an integral part of his being, it won't ever change. Not even when God stopped talking to him. The fact Tomas saw his touch was proof enough.
"If I'm not an exorcist or a priest, I cease to see a reason for you to drag me here," Marcus said and saw a spark of anger in Simon's eyes, saw Maria fidget behind him.
"Is this really necessary, father Simon? I thought we would take care of the boy as usual. Now his sister will know he went missing and I was at their house..."
Simon turned to Maria, his eyes cold and unforgiving and she took a step back in visible fear.
"Dear Maria," he spoke, his voice all honey and sugar, but also sharp as a knife as he stepped to her, his hand running in a gentle caress down her cheek, only to grasp at her chin painfully. Maria gasped but she didn't pull away, knew it was useless. "I thought I made myself clear. Convince the boy to come willingly. All you had to do was return with a signed paper, without raising suspicion. What good it is to have a vessel untouched by us if the boy could see through your farce?"
"I tried," Maria whimpered, her eyes wide and pleading. "I swear I did. His sister was convinced, but the moment he saw me, he knew. I don't know how-"
Simon took in a deep whiff then pushed her away from him with disgust.
"Because you reek of want! You're so pathetic; you can't even deceive a child."
"He's not a normal child, you know that!" she said, trying to keep her composure, but failing miserably.
"Pathetic!" Simon snapped and turned away from her. "But I will deal with that later." He waved her off as a fly and she slinked back to the door, but didn't leave.
"Here I thought demons were working a bit more 'subtly'," Marcus sneered. "Worming their way inside. Instead you're kidnapping people? That's a new low, even for you."
"I must admit, this isn't my proudest moment," Simon agreed. "We prefer luring our victims, but dear Tomas here proves to be a bit more resilient than we expected. Now seeing you coming to his rescue, that explains a lot."
"He's just a kid, from a poor family. What good he is to you anyway? Don't you have better 'candidates' in your precious prep school?"
Simon's eyebrows rose curiously.
"Ah, so you did indeed do your homework. Not that it would do you any good. Seeing as dear old daddy left the house, discarding you like a used rag." Simon spoke with mirth, his words intended to cut and cut they did. Marcus could feel the chill, the silent rage bubbling to the surface.
"Did I hit a sore spot?" Simon inclined his head, studying Marcus's face. His hand reached out and tapped at Marcus's chin condescendingly and Marcus couldn't help it, he lunged forward and tried to take a bite of that hand, to hurt the man that was holding him hostage. Of course he barely nicked the flesh as Simon pulled back laughing. Marcus didn't even hear a command and one of the henchmen was there, his fist connecting with Marcus's face. Several punches landed on his torso as well, leaving him dazed and breathless. Another hit to the face, splitting his lip in half and Marcus thought he might pass out. Just one more hit and he would be out like a light, but the hit never came. Simon whistled, calling the man off like a dog, leaving Marcus hanging in the chair, the only thing keeping him upright the ropes around his chest and arms.
"Why do you even fight, Marcus?" Simon's voice was suddenly too close, right by his ear but Marcus couldn't pull away. He was blinking away the darkness, realizing that passing out would leave Tomas alone.
"I won't let you have him," Marcus muttered, then spat a wad of blood on the floor, barely missing Simon's lacquered shoe.
"You're not in a position to stop us, Marcus," Simon answered smugly. "We will get him either way."
"Why?" Marcus asked and Simon frowned, thinking the question senseless. "Why him?"
"Ah," Simon understood. "Because he's special, of course. Not your way special, no. God didn't deem him good enough to be his vessel it seems." Simon made a face, as if feeling genuinely sorry for the boy, then smirked. "Well, the better for us, I suppose."
"He's not up for taking," Marcus growled. Simon just shrugged.
"Not your place to decide, Marky boy," he smirked, then walked up to Tomas and tapped at his face, but the boy seemed to be out cold. Simon gave a disappointed sigh. "Oh well. Looks like he needs a bit of beauty sleep." Simon trailed his finger down Tomas's cheek and Marcus shuddered.
"Get your filthy hands off him!" he spat towards Simon, his own skin crawling at the sight. Simon raised an eyebrow as if in challenge and leaned closer to Tomas's unconscious form, his hand burrowing into the boy's hair and yanking his head up. Tomas gave an involuntary moan, but didn't wake up.
Marcus was livid about the treatment.
"Don't you dare!" he shouted and started fighting his bonds, expecting Simon to laugh or to continue his sick game, but something changed. The atmosphere became cold and Simon let go of Tomas's head as if burned. He didn't show any sign of pain, but there was a momentary look of discomfort, the second pupil flashing dangerously and Simon took a step back, rubbing his hands clean, as if he'd just touched something gross. Coming from a demon that gesture was more than strange. Tomas's head lolled back on his chest, his breathing even and calm.
Marcus blinked, trying to comprehend what just happened.
"Still thinking God didn't touch him?" Marcus snorted, provocatively. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but pulling the attention away from Tomas was his priority. That and biding their time. He was sure Peter already knew they were in trouble and was on his way. He was just hoping that Peter had enough time to bring back up as well.
"Oh, that is not God's work," Simon snarled, the mirth momentarily gone from his voice as he turned back to Marcus. "Or do you really think your precious boy is worth the old man's time?"
Marcus frowned.
"Tomas has nothing to do with you bastards."
Simon shrugged.
"Maybe. Maybe he does, who knows? All I know is that he is special and who gets to him first can use him."
"You keep saying he's special, yet you insist it's not God's work?" Marcus was truly confused, because he knew there was no bad bone in Tomas. "If he was a work of evil, you wouldn't be here now, wouldn't be trying to 'convert him'."
"God's work! What do people have with God?" Simon threw up his hands dramatically, looking at Maria as if she should agree with him, then turning back to Marcus. "Do you really think God has time for someone as insignificant as you? You are just ants. Where was your God when your precious Gabriel needed him? He took a vacation, huh?"
Marcus couldn't help it, he flinched and it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Simon caught on.
"Ah, did I hit a sore spot? What is it with you and young boys, Marcus? Always falling for the wrong one," Simon tutted, shaking his head.
Marcus' eyes went wide at the implication then he gave a laugh of disbelief.
"You're off your rocker," Marcus said, unkindly. "You have to twist everything, however pure it is."
"Pure? Oh, I assure you, this boy is anything but pure," Simon leered. "Do you want to know how we found him?" Simon was back in Marcus's personal space, so close Marcus could smell his putrid breath on his face. Grimacing, he pulled away, but his eyes never left Simon's.
"What, did you pull out school yearbooks and throw darts at pictures?" Marcus guessed, trying to sound uninterested, all the while his mind was shouting 'Yes you bastard, I want to know, I need to know so that I can stop it from happening again!'
"Now I know why you decided to become an exorcist. Comedy just wasn't for you, huh?"
Simon cast a look over at Tomas who still seemed unconscious. If not for the fact that it was buying them precious time, Marcus would be really trying to wake him up. While he was concerned about his prolonged unconsciousness he was also a bit glad that Tomas was being spared all this for as long as possible.
"Your precious, 'pure' Tomas here is anything but normal. You know how we find our 'hosts'? There's this... aura, if you will, a mirror of their soul. It makes it very easy to spot the darkness lurking inside, the fears and vices. Most humans have a simple aura, filled with their wants and worries. Even yours..." Simon's lips twitched in a cruel smile and Marcus braced himself for the words.
"I can see God's touch, but really, it's fading, and underneath," Simon snorted. "Nothing but simplicity and rot. Your soul is stained, Marcus, by all the people you let down."
Marcus swallowed, but kept his eyes on Simon and the demon seemed to bask in the attention.
"So what? You see auras now? Is that how all you demons read people?"
"One of the ways, yes. You didn't think I would show you all my cards now, did you?"
"No. I thought you would say why you are so interested in a fifteen year old boy who has nothing to offer to you."
"I wouldn't call visions as nothing," Simon tutted, then gave a nod. "But you're right. Tomas is different."
"What, is his 'aura' glowing the wrong color for you?" Marcus asked, the aura heavily hyphenated.
"One can say he 'has no aura'," Simon spoke and Marcus blinked, taken aback.
"I don't understand. How can he not have any?" From Tomas's words Marcus knew that even possessed people had auras. It was the presentation of the soul. And Tomas couldn't be without a soul, Marcus wouldn't believe that even for a second. His confusion seemed to entertain Simon greatly, because he chuckled.
"Now isn't that interesting?"
"I don't believe you. There must be... something. Maybe... maybe it's just too shiny for you to see."
"Oh, something is there, definitely. But shiny?" Simon shook his head. "Would you call a black hole shiny, Maria?" Simon asked with a provocatively raised eyebrow, though he didn't turn back to the woman, his eyes stuck on Marcus, visibly enjoying this game.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Marcus finally snapped, having enough of the game. "Black hole? You're not making any sense."
"Am I not? You know what I see when I look at your precious 'chosen' boy over here?"
There was a dramatic pause, for Marcus to ask the question, but he stayed silent. Simon didn't mind. He pointedly looked at Tomas's slumped form.
"I see a black hole. Darkness without light that is sucking in everything that comes too close. Even now... as close as you are, I can see him sucking up your light. Or my darkness. Who knows where it all goes? Not me. Maybe not even Tomas. But we will find out soon enough. Once Tomas awakens, he shall become acquainted with one of your old friends. We can only take a guess which one. Maybe Baptist?" Simon chuckled and stepped back as Marcus lunged forward, a curse on his lips. When it didn't help, he turned to God, reciting the rite of exorcism. Simon barely flinched, but there was a snarled 'Shut him up someone' and a moment later Marcus found himself sporting a gag made of some dirty cloth.
"Father Simon?" Maria Walters broke through the ensuing silence, looking both timid as well as afraid. Simon turned towards her, for a moment ignoring Marcus and his words muted by the gag.
„What?!" he snapped and Maria winced, but didn't step back.
"His sister... we don't have that much time. He should get home before morning, or she'll inform the police and they will come after me-" she babbled and Simon waved his hand.
"Since when are the police a problem?" Simon almost laughed and Maria blushed. "He's just a poor Mexican teenager who had a fight with his sister and decided to run away. Do you really think anyone would give a shit about his whereabouts?" Simon raised an eyebrow then his face hardened. "Or are you disagreeing with my current actions?"
Even Marcus, tied up several feet away could feel the sudden chill in the room. Simon's voice was one of challenge and Marcus expected Maria to cover or to fall to her knees and start begging, but she did neither. Instead she seemed to square her shoulders and lift her head.
"Yes."
That seemed to surprise as well as amuse Simon.
"Oh. How so?" he crossed his arms and gave her a predatory smirk. Maria shot a look at Marcus and Tomas. Marcus was a bit shocked that he saw no remorse at all. He felt coldness run through his veins. Her concern wasn't about kidnapping and possibly killing a child and an ex-priest. No, her concerns, as it appeared, were only for her own self.
"That... the dust. It's the last one and you promised... you promised I'll get a chance. I helped you coordinate the attack, to pick the families. I'm doing all I can at that stupid school to get us the best of the best, yet you are still pushing me aside!" the last was shouted then the room fell into silence. A silence which was broken by laughter.
"Oh Maria, did you really think I would waste the powder on you? Right now? Why?"
This time Maria took a step back, looking like Simon slapped her.
"I need you to do your job, nothing else. Maybe in the future, when I won't have a use for pretty face and brains I will let you become one of us. But you need to earn that privilege," Simon's lips curled into a smirk and Marcus would have been interested in Maria's reaction, had he not caught a small movement in his peripheral vision. His head snapped to the right, eyes going wide. It looked like Tomas was finally waking up.
