hallway, Monsignor Stanton was a mere shadow of his former self. Almost ninety now, his frail body and papery skin made Father Michael long to be able to grow old and die.
“You look good,” Father Michael said, his face a mask that betrayed no emotion.
“You’re full of it. I look like crap, but at least at my age, I’m supposed to look like crap.” The monsignor laughed, which quickly turned to a dry cough. “Come, let’s go to my study.” The monsignor was one of the very few people who never regarded him as a monster. Father Michael was, in fact, a savior to him and his beloved parish.
His study was a cluttered affair that smelled of old books and dust. He slowly lowered himself into a plush chair behind an old oak desk.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
“Not many would say that,” Father Michael said.
“Not many are aware how indebted they are to you.” He absentmindedly fiddled with a fountain pen. “Since you’re here, I can only assume something horrible must be near. I don’t know how an old man like me can help you, but you only need ask and I will do everything in my power to assist.”
Father Michael removed the dark sunglasses.
“I’m seeking a demon, one as old as time and more dangerous than a legion of evil.”
Monsignor Stanton leaned back in his chair. “Does the demon have a name?”
There was a slight pause.
“Cain.”
“The sinful son.” His hands shook as he placed the pen on the desk. “Murderer of his brother. Is it true that, other than the devil himself, he is the most powerful demon in all the underworld? I’ve heard whispers about him, but never thought there could be truth behind the tales.”
Father Michael nodded. “He was handpicked by Satan himself. His powers are formidable. Have you heard of anything that might suggest his vile presence?”
“This city is filled with so much evil, as well as good. For all I can tell, he has always been here.”
An old clock ticked, marking the time lost in the search for Cain.
“I’ve come from Vermont where he murdered an entire town. Before he departed, he told me I could find him here.”
Monsignor Stanton grew pale.
“An entire town?”
“Yes.” Father Michael thought it best not to mention his own hand in eliminating the remaining population of South Russell.
“God rest their souls. I fear what this Cain could do in a city so large.”
“As do I.”
“All I can offer is a place for you to stay and rest and a promise to keep a watchful eye out.”
Father Michael thanked him.
“I know you don’t require sleep, but consider this your home should you be in need of one.”
“Can you do one more thing for me?” Father Michael asked.
“Certainly. It feels good to be needed again.” A tiny smile faintly touched the corners of his mouth.
“Would you call Cardinal Gianncarlo for me and give him this message. I will return if needed. Thank you, Monsignor.”
Father Michael handed him a neatly folded piece of paper and donned his sunglasses.
“God bless, Father Michael. My prayers will be with you.”
Monsignor Stanton knew better than to try to detain the Vatican exorcist. As he watched him leave, he fought back an urge to cry at the thought of what wickedness lurked in the wings for the people of the city he loved so much.
The hideous creature had successfully clothed itself in the skin of the younger man. It was now a trim, attractive man in his late twenties, with a Wall Street look about him. The laughter died in Shane’s throat. Fear and fascination kept him rooted to the spot.
“What’s wrong?” the beast-man asked. “Terror got your tongue?”
Then it laughed, an ear-piercing cackle that turned Shane’s nerves to jelly. A part of him was shouting, “ What the hell did you think was so funny? Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?”
“I was just going to kill you. Nothing creative, maybe a little disemboweling, perhaps a slow decapitation. There’s
“You look good,” Father Michael said, his face a mask that betrayed no emotion.
“You’re full of it. I look like crap, but at least at my age, I’m supposed to look like crap.” The monsignor laughed, which quickly turned to a dry cough. “Come, let’s go to my study.” The monsignor was one of the very few people who never regarded him as a monster. Father Michael was, in fact, a savior to him and his beloved parish.
His study was a cluttered affair that smelled of old books and dust. He slowly lowered himself into a plush chair behind an old oak desk.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
“Not many would say that,” Father Michael said.
“Not many are aware how indebted they are to you.” He absentmindedly fiddled with a fountain pen. “Since you’re here, I can only assume something horrible must be near. I don’t know how an old man like me can help you, but you only need ask and I will do everything in my power to assist.”
Father Michael removed the dark sunglasses.
“I’m seeking a demon, one as old as time and more dangerous than a legion of evil.”
Monsignor Stanton leaned back in his chair. “Does the demon have a name?”
There was a slight pause.
“Cain.”
“The sinful son.” His hands shook as he placed the pen on the desk. “Murderer of his brother. Is it true that, other than the devil himself, he is the most powerful demon in all the underworld? I’ve heard whispers about him, but never thought there could be truth behind the tales.”
Father Michael nodded. “He was handpicked by Satan himself. His powers are formidable. Have you heard of anything that might suggest his vile presence?”
“This city is filled with so much evil, as well as good. For all I can tell, he has always been here.”
An old clock ticked, marking the time lost in the search for Cain.
“I’ve come from Vermont where he murdered an entire town. Before he departed, he told me I could find him here.”
Monsignor Stanton grew pale.
“An entire town?”
“Yes.” Father Michael thought it best not to mention his own hand in eliminating the remaining population of South Russell.
“God rest their souls. I fear what this Cain could do in a city so large.”
“As do I.”
“All I can offer is a place for you to stay and rest and a promise to keep a watchful eye out.”
Father Michael thanked him.
“I know you don’t require sleep, but consider this your home should you be in need of one.”
“Can you do one more thing for me?” Father Michael asked.
“Certainly. It feels good to be needed again.” A tiny smile faintly touched the corners of his mouth.
“Would you call Cardinal Gianncarlo for me and give him this message. I will return if needed. Thank you, Monsignor.”
Father Michael handed him a neatly folded piece of paper and donned his sunglasses.
“God bless, Father Michael. My prayers will be with you.”
Monsignor Stanton knew better than to try to detain the Vatican exorcist. As he watched him leave, he fought back an urge to cry at the thought of what wickedness lurked in the wings for the people of the city he loved so much.
The hideous creature had successfully clothed itself in the skin of the younger man. It was now a trim, attractive man in his late twenties, with a Wall Street look about him. The laughter died in Shane’s throat. Fear and fascination kept him rooted to the spot.
“What’s wrong?” the beast-man asked. “Terror got your tongue?”
Then it laughed, an ear-piercing cackle that turned Shane’s nerves to jelly. A part of him was shouting, “ What the hell did you think was so funny? Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?”
“I was just going to kill you. Nothing creative, maybe a little disemboweling, perhaps a slow decapitation. There’s
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