Eli sat in one of the rows of worn wooden pews that stretched toward a simple altar.
Dust motes danced in beams of fractured sunlight from the stained glass.
The scent of candle wax and old hymnals hung in the air.
His eyes were fixed on the altar, where the crucifix rested next to the holy Bible.
With the rising sun, the devotees had started to swarm inside.
From the window, he could see a few kids playing in the yard while Sister Catherine smiled at them with adoration.
"Have you heard?" An old woman entered with a group of her friends. She spoke in a hushed voice, "Liam died last night."
"Ah, I heard about it too," another woman in her sixties chimed in. "He went out in the rain and never came back."
Apparently, someone named Liam had died, and from what Eli heard, he was drenched in rain and got sick. Even then he refused to throw his cigarette away.
The face of a person who had accompanied him this morning flashed in his mind.
So, that was why he smelled like that.
Funnily, Eli had seen more dead than alive. The spirits, no matter how well connected they were when alive, would be all alone after their time was up.
Even the churches wouldn't do much to ease the burdens they carry.
That was the way of it.
The Church liked to preach about compassion, about saving souls, but when it came to exorcisms, even priests were bound by rules.
Permission had to come from the bishop first. Without it, they risked being devoured by what evil they faced.
In emergencies, a priest could pray and bless a victim. But nothing more than that.
He'd learned all that years ago. And he'd decided he wouldn't be part of their system.
Even when the bishop came to him in person, he had outright refused to become a deacon himself.
So when he cast out demons, he didn't call on Archangel Michael's name.
He called on his own. Elijah.
The Vatican couldn't accuse him of going rogue. And Father John never had to answer for his sins.
But every time he sent some rogue spirit back to hell, he would come here to confess like a ritual.
"What are you thinking?"
While he was admiring the kids playing, Father John had already sat beside him, giving him a cup of coffee.
Eli accepted it with a slight smile. "Nothing much," he said, taking a sip of the drink.
The hot liquid slid down his throat, warming his insides.
"It's open again," Father John said. "That place on the east side in Eldwych."
Eli stiffened. He glanced at the priest, catching the deep frown between the old man's brows.
"After so many deaths?"
Father John sighed.
The place had been shut down nearly a decade ago, eleven years to be exact, after the deaths of the locals in a grotesque way. Limbs were torn apart, scattered all around the place like confetti.
It was hard to tell which part belonged to whom. Kids, adults, old, none were spared.
The worst part? The culprit was never found.
Eli had been there once, when he was just a child of nine or ten. There was this gap in his memory of that time.
He might have stayed there for weeks or even months. The thing he remembered clearly was his screaming stomach.
So starved, he'd fought a stray dog over a crust of bread.
The fog still held a tight leash over his distant memory, but a glimpse of a man sprawled on the floor had been embedded into his chest.
The only warmth left in that man was the blood trickling from the gaping hole where his heart should have been.
And with that same crimson soaking his hands, Eli had nibbled at the bread, uncaring of the hollow, lifeless eyes staring at him. Anyway, the dustbin was a good place to hide.
That was when Father John had met him. Not with rituals, or sermons, but with a warm hug and food.
"They are making a resort, or was it a playground?" The priest tried to recall, but the details hardly mattered.
"What do they want?" Eli asked, taking another sip. "Bishop Edmund's orders?"
"Yes."
Eli chuckled, a mirthless laughter that dissolved into the chilly air.
This church was supposed to be a simple place of worship.
However, due to Bishop Edmund's special attention on both Priest John and him, the cathedral had become more aware of their existence.
"They want me to perform an exorcism there, but as you know, I am old now."
Yes, the priest was old.
Normally, they wouldn't risk sending someone as weak as Father to fight with such a horrendous entity.
Despite his mental resilience, Father would easily be overwhelmed by his lack of physical strength.
But they were also aware that there was someone who had a special gift of seeing what normal people couldn't.
"Who will lead it, then?"
The old priest didn't answer that question. Instead, he looked ahead at the crucifix.
"'Ezekiel 18:20.The child shall not bear the guilt of the parent, nor the parent the guilt of the child.' So you shouldn't burden yourself like this."
Eli had been pestering the priest for years with the same confession, and he never made it to the end.
Yet, never once had he seen a frown of impatience on the old man's face.
In a sense, he owed his godfather more than he could imagine.
But going there... He didn't want to open some hidden chest and unleash venomous memories. The ones he had were enough.
"Bishop Edmund promised to send the heating equipment and donations."
There were permanent smiling wrinkles around Father John's lips. Even now, with his bony hand on his aching waist, he gave Eli a gentle smile.
"It's okay. We can also say we are busy with Choir, and we are short of staff."
A breeze carried the scent of clematis to Eli's nostrils. A refreshed fragrance that soothed his tense shoulders a bit.
He stared at the liquid swirling inside his cup and finally parted his lips. "I will go as Deacon."
Acting as Deacon, and not the one in charge, suited him just fine. All he had to do was be an assistant to the preceding priest.
And if acting like a good support could help Father John, Eli was willing to do it.
"Father Nicholas will be here next week. You should get your bag ready."
"... Wait, who?"
Before Eli could catch hold of his sleeve, Father John was already making his way toward the group of women at the end of the hall.
"Just great," Eli muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. Now I'm stuck with a madman.
He nearly groaned aloud.
Just then, his phone chimed with a notification. Even without looking, he knew it was from Chase.
Suddenly, the thought of his university sounded like heaven compared to seeing Nicholas' face.
So he slipped out of the church before the morning prayer even began.
Author's Note – Glossary & Clarification
If you're unfamiliar with some of the titles or terms used in this chapter, here's a brief explanation to help you out:
A Bishop oversees a diocese, which is a district containing multiple churches, including cathedrals and parish churches.
A cathedral is the main church within a diocese, and it's where the bishop's seat (cathedra) is located.
A Deacon is an official member of the Church hierarchy, below a priest, but still ordained. Deacons can bless people, assist in marriages, and carry out certain duties in the priest's absence. But they cannot consecrate the Eucharist or hear confessions.
Elijah is not an official deacon, but he offers to "act like one" — meaning he'll serve as an assistant, helping with the duties but without formal recognition from the Church.
All of these ranks and roles are based on real Church structure. However, the supernatural elements — like the entities, rituals, and exorcism methods — are entirely fictional.
Please don't take them as real-world theology! They are made up by this silly author's brain!
If you ever notice inconsistencies or have questions, feel free to point them out. I always appreciate sharp-eyed readers!