Cross left early the next morning, so early that the sky was still dark when he hopped his train. No one had come to see him off, but he preferred it that way. He found it better to keep his superiors in the dark as to his comings and goings as much as possible. It was easier to avoid missions if they were never entirely certain that he would come back. More importantly, he thought, the extra hour would give him time to stop by the bar before being dragged to some endless opera.
Unfortunately for him, Toma was an exceptionally punctual man. So punctual, in fact, that he had already been waiting at the train station for a quarter hour when Cross arrived fifty-five minutes ahead of schedule. Cross was sure that Toma was smiling devilishly underneath that stupid balaclava of his. The two men departed for a supporter's house to dine and debrief. The general nursed his glass of wine as much as he could, but got nowhere near the pleasantly drunk buzz he had hoped for.
They arrived at the opera house as the first act began. I'm entirely too sober to sit through three hours of this, Cross thought, fidgeting in his seat next to Toma, who was as calm and attentive as ever. He fell asleep sometime before intermission, only to be awoken by a piercing scream. He then promptly went back to dreaming when he realized that the sound had been theatrical, and not any demon harbinger. The rest of the performance passed as uneventfully. When the curtain finally fell, Toma gently nudged the snoring exorcist and motioned for him to follow.
Cross opened the door to the ladies' dressing room without so much as knocking, and stepped inside quietly. Toma, as always, took up his post in the hall and leaned against the doorframe.
Maria had her back to the entry, seated at a vanity wiping the kohl from her eyes. She had already shed most of her ostentatious costume, and in the reflection of the mirror, Cross had a peerless view of her prodigiously corseted bosom. He smirked inwardly. His reputation as something of a Don Juan had already begun circulating the Order, and he was certain the higher ups knew by now. Perhaps that was why he'd gotten this job. He was almost obligated to goggle. The Lord works in mysterious ways, he thought, and thanked the God he barely believed in for supplying him with such a diverting occupation. Which brought him to the job at hand. He began to clear his throat to announce his presence, but before he could utter a sound, she spoke. Her eyes were still closed.
"I assume you're here about the deaths."
He started slightly, which turned his intended "ahem" into an alarming choking noise. She opened her eyes, and now coolly regarded him in the silvered glass.
Cross was slightly taken aback by her exceptional perception and her calm demeanor in a somewhat compromising position. As… liberal… as he was in his own views, it behooved a lady to be at least bit indignant at being taken unawares in her under things. He coughed once more to hide his surprise.
"Ah, the deaths. Yes, that's why I'm here. In part, yes."
"I see." She turned to face him, straddling the chairback and leaning her chin on her fists. "And just what is the other part?"
"I'm interested in your talents."
She raised an eyebrow. "Which talents are those?"
She was smiling cheekily, he noticed. A charming girl. Eventually, he'd have to stop flirting, but he didn't want to, yet. He grinned without answering.
His silence seemed to irk her.
"Well?" She stood up and glared at him, her arms crossed forbiddingly. "Who are you, anyway? I'm not in the habit of accepting offers from unannounced strangers. Were I any other woman you'd have run blushing out of the room by now. The nerve of men!"
Cross apologized. Her voice had risen as she grew more agitated, and the sound made his ears ring, but he didn't stop smiling. She was even more beautiful angry, he decided, and he never stopped smiling for beautiful women. "I'm a priest, though, so you shouldn't worry. My name is Cross Marian. I'm an exorcist from the Black Order. We're a branch of the Vatican that specializes in demon… hm,… shall we say, expulsion. We believe that you possess an ability that would be very useful to our cause. I'd like to discuss the terms of ordination with you, if you're not unwilling. But perhaps you'd like to dress first."
She snorted. "I'm a performer, Mr. Marian. I've been seen in far less by a great deal larger audience than yourself. Loose morals come with the profession. Yet somehow you want me to join the clergy."
"I'm afraid moral delinquency's not as highly demanded in the priestly order," Cross said, "but I don't let that stop me."
"I suspected not. I thank you for the offer, and for your visit. However, I am afraid that I must decline, Mr. Marian. I cannot leave the opera."
Her voice had taken on a sweet tone that nearly lulled him into complacency. She walked towards him, and before he knew it had an arm about his waist, gently guiding him towards the door. She murmured something about putting the whole mess behind them. Death was so common these days, she went on, that these unexplained instances were regrettable but wholly irrelevant, didn't he think?
"Yes, regrettable," he answered. He stopped. Something was odd about the situation, he was sure. Why was he leaving already? There was a moment of silence as she opened the door to show him out, and then he realized.
His hand covered hers entirely as she began to turn the doorknob. He began prying her fingers away from the handle.
She spoke, her voice a hum in his ears. "I'm not sure, Mr. Marian, that you want to be doing that."
Her hand floated inches above the knob, her wrist still in his grasp. But Cross paused only briefly. He was close enough to her now to notice the delicate cross embedded in her throat. With the silver chain she wore, the untrained eye would be easily fooled into thinking it a necklace. But Cross was an exorcist, with all the evidence he needed to realize the power she possessed. He only needed one free hand to draw Judgment.
The barrel of Cross' pistol rested on Maria's collarbone. If she was surprised, it didn't show. As she drew in a breath to scream, the green flare of the cross reflected in the silver of Judgment's sides, and Cross let go of her wrist to clamp his hand firmly over her mouth.
"Funny, isn't it, that they call what we've got Innocence. A fine name for degenerates like us. Now I'm going to let you go, and you're going to tell me how it is that you already know about innocence and demons and the lot. Alright? And no singing. The slightest hum and I'll shoot. Oh, it probably won't kill you, which I assume you've realized given the nature of the ammunition, but I wouldn't want to see what happens to your voice."
She didn't respond, but in this case Cross took her silence for consent. He lowered the hand that covered her lips, but kept his pistol where it was.
"Well, I suppose this is an improvement from the blatant womanizing," she stated flatly, "the gun pointed at my head at least means that I'm being taken seriously. But I have no idea what you're talking about. Demons and nonsense. You've made a mistake."
Cross shook his head. "I don't think so. No one would be as flippant as you are about such a large number of deaths without knowing the truth. And you are, I grant you, quite skilled with that innocence of yours, too skilled for a naïf. I need to know how you found out and who trained you. If one word gets out, one breath of the Black Order's existence, the whole organization will be compromised. The situation, I fear, is quite grave. So, if you care not to divulge, I'm afraid I'll have to assume you are a spy of the Millennium Earl. And while this may not kill you-"
he tipped back her chin with Judgment's barrel
-this might."
In one deft motion he'd pulled a switchblade from his coat and held it poised at her neck.
Authors' Note: (still co-written by Quercus and La Romanesque, but this is...) My first chapter! It moves a bit too quickly, I think, but if I was going to have to go through and extend everything, I don't think this would ever have gotten up, and it's been long enough as it is. Isn't it getting exciting?? I still haven't told Quercus what I've got in mind for Maria. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and crit! Ideas are welcome too! I think that's enough exclamation points for now. Peace,
La Romanesque