There's a church near the edge of the town.
This channel of faith has been built within the civil war as a refuge, for fellow believers and those who wish to avoid bloodshed. Having been built in a war-torn time, the materials used for construction are cheap, using wood as walls and floor, using old-logs as pillars to support the rooftop made of stone tiles; that had decayed over the decades, and using used-glass as windows.
Of course being this old, many people of the same faith – or simply found the Church as an important part of the town's history – have made efforts to revamp the house of God without overwriting its identity. Replacing the supporting foundation with the same materials, cleaning the interior while not scraping the stacking history of this Church. Maintaining the olden artifacts of faith, like the wooden cross made of red-wood, and the most price statue a wood-sculpture of the prophet Elijah.
The many people of San Joseph, have many sentimental memories of the Church and would like it to remain, as a valuable reminder of History and a place where faith could be practiced.
While the town deeply cherishes this Church the nature of its history has left it a very sensitive area. With its significance, children and troublemakers are not allowed inside the churches walls in the risk of them breaking things. Just like the incident a few months back, where the statue of the prophet almost fell and shattered from its pedestal due to some neglectful people – let's just say.
And so, this church is mostly in its lonesome, only being used for special occasions – such as Holy week, funerals, christmas, and while they allow weddings it is done so strictly.
And, some rumors even talked about how this church is used for exorcism, and to deal with any diabolical possessions or influence.
Most of the standard happenings of a Church is done so, in the one on the central part of the town. A modern Church built by the local government, and run by the small association of Priests. And one of the members actually is the one maintaining, and keeping eyes, on Elijah's Church.
"Make sure to visit once a while, Sister Caitlin." A voice so gentle it sounds similar to a lullaby.
This is Father James, a man who dedicated most of his life in the words of God and imparting the virtues taught upon him to others; who's willing to listen. His well-kept brown hair ruffled with the winds, as he said farewell to a fellow sister who had completed her final vow.
"Of course, father! Couldn't miss out on your delicious cooking now can I?" Caitlin jest. Having been done with the preparation to finish her studies in the big city.
Caitlin is among the youngest sisters in this town's order, being only a teen – James' have always commended her dedication and faith to the lord above with respect, even seeing her as equal in terms of as a fellow believer. And this respect is why he is quite saddened by her departure.
"Mmhmm, of course, of course. Really, you have to watch your form lest you grow wide from all my food; you've always been quite a glutton." James smiled. Tilting his head to her baggage.
"That's quite a lot, are you sure you could handle it fine? I could make time."
Caitlin shook her head with a smile, "No, no. It's fine, I'm a strong girl, all those days of fitness will be nothing if I can't lift a few things. So don't bother yourself, father."
James chuckled, "I wish luck upon whoever boy took interest in you."
"Uh-hu-" Caitlin nodded as she lifted them all up, "Hey, what does that mean?!"
"Oh nothing."
James shook his head, and waved goodbye to his student. A melancholic smile upon his face, that he dare not show to the girl – lest he tank a million teases.
"Goodbye Caitlin," James shouted, to the now fading figure of the sister – who in turn shouted back, "May the lord bless you, and find your pursuit worthwhile."
In this temporary goodbye, the sky has darken; having the swollen clouds blanketing the sky. A flash of light, and the boom of a thunder – the storm talked about in the news have come to the town. Father James shook his head, as he did another wish to bring luck upon the departed sister.
The winds are unruly.
"This storm looks to be quite the nasty one," Father James spoke as he looked up at the sky. His necklace rattled by the winds, " I better close all the windows, lest a stray lightning find it funny to strike me."
Inside the Church, the sound of the winds have muffled; degraded to a mere gushing sound. James paid his respect upon stepping foot on the altar, as he began closing all openings inside the Church. Windows, smoke passages, he even a tarp on the gaps of the walls. This is merely to not let moisture inside, James has no worry that this storm will do any damage to the outside – as this church endured a thousand more like it and stood unharmed.
It is the inside worthy of being worried over, the delicate paint could not tolerate any liquid staining it; flaking off if the water were to absorb and dry. The wood will puff if it were to absorb water leaving cracks, that will compromise the structural integrity. So, it is in James best interest to leave no openings on the walls, roof, and even the floor.
"That's done, all windows have been closed – and any known holes have been covered up," James nodded as sat on of the seats, being tired after the day, "No need for cleaning," He rubbed his finger on the seat; no dust, "We've done that earlier; thank the lord for Caitlin taking the time to help me clean, before she left."
With only the many candles has the source of light, Father James took a moment to regain his energy; being in his early 50's have taken a toll on his body. For the usage of candles, James is not one to rely on electricity – and while the church has a generator in the basement – James just doesn't want to waste money on gasoline when he could just candles. And he don't take pleasure in watching Tv, for the most time since he took the duty of maintaining this Church, he'd always been listening to the radio for any news and entertainment.
And he has heard that tv's attract lightning. More the reason he doesn't use tv, whether it's true or not
"*sigh* I could cook right now, my back is killing me." He closed his eyes, as rubbed his back.
James heard the little banging on the roof, rain has started. A cacophony of raindrops hitting the stone tiles is loud, if not being muffled inside the Church. A flash of light, and another booming sound of thunder. James shook his head, Texas is quite infamous for hurricanes. This state, jokingly described, as a magnet for storms; even if it's close to a desert. He just hopes that the storm will just pass peacefully, and only leaves behind muddy roads.
James was about to stand up, after noticing one of the candle lights went out, when he heard a knocking on the door.
*KNOCK*
*KNOCK*
*KNOCK*
Consecutive knocking on the same pitch, James frowned. Nonetheless, however, he went to the door and peeked in the eye-hole. The surrounding tall grass is dancing alongside the rampant winds, and in front of the opening is the head of a person with long, bluish hair. His face was blurry because of the old glass.
"Could you let me in, Father?"
Without hesitation, James opened the door and let the wet winds in. his twitch from the stinging cold air, but focused immediately for the person in front him. But there was no person, only the dark-clouds and rattling chair beside the door.
After looking side-by-side he closed the door. And looked to the altar and performed a cross, he took his necklace and wrapped it around his arm. He walked with cautious steps towards his seat, now from his previous positions, he spoke.
"If you wish to seek refuge from the storm, you could've asked politely. This church's door is open for anyone in need of aid," James titled his head to the side. "It is rude to go inside a house without asking permission. Especially in the house of God."
There on the seat near the shadow of the wall, he saw a figure sitting on" the chair – with his back turned from the priest – the same long-hair as before. A stillness in the air, all so familiar to father James. He extended his wrapped hand near his heart, and looked at the thing sitting.
"Forgive me." A gentle, almost feminine, voice came from the thing impersonating a person. Surprising James, "But allow me, the courtesy of you, father, to listen to my words."
"You talk formally," James sat beside the figure, his eyes without fear, "If you wish to deceive me, if you wish to tempt me, then you must forgive me from not heeding your words. Your arrogance to go inside this Church is boundless. That will be your undoing."
"That strength in your voice," James furrowed his eyebrows confused of the words of this being, "That is the reason I seek for this Church, in particular. Father James Hugo, a priest for 20 years, a former policeman, a former exorcist."
James clenched his fist, but his face remained stoic. This thing knows him, the mention of his bygone occupation, the tone of uncanny familiarity. True to its word, it seeks him personally.
"And what reason? For a spri- no I sense humanity in you…" James' look soured, "What exactly are you?"
"What I am is not important. What is, is the purpose of my visit," The figure finally turned his head.
And James remains unflinching.
The face of this thing looks near perfect to a human. Having the attributes of what people might find attractive, however, if not from the two facts of this thing's traits – James might be fooled. A stitch scar going horizontally and vertically on its face, two dual-colored eyes that speak of darkness. And the muted sky-blue colored hair that reaches his chest, it is impossible for any priest worth a cent to mistake this thing for a human.
Yet, James couldn't shake off the scent of humanity radiating from this demon.
"Have you heard of the recent disappearance and killings, Father?"
James turned silent.
In the following days, since the start of the new year, this town has experienced a strand of disappearance. First it was a child, by the name of Mark, the boy disappeared near the forest. After a while, his disappearance was attributed with the growing population of bears, or simply another wild animal. While yes it is quite a tragedy, it was small enough to not garner fear, hate to say it, it's just one child who met an unlucky end.
After that event, however, just like the initial piece of a domino, led to the string of disappearance across town. From children, adults, men and women, and even pets of said people. None were not left with mercy, or discrimination, everyone that is vulnerable or stupid were by whoever, or what, is doing these terrible acts.
Father James felt anger, he is not one to be easily irritated with, however the sheer numbers of people being missing and subsequently leading to more suffering of having an incomplete family. And he dared not think of the people unfortunate enough to be alone and left no one to mourn them.
He dared not comprehend the suffering of those souls.
"Are you implying you know the cause?" James demanded with conviction. It's not a question but a command to the spirit in front of him.
The spirit smile, having perfect white teeth, yet it bore no radiance. The male looking apparition crossed his leg, as he turned towards the cross. His smile thinning, and an aura of unease felt by James.
"I was getting to that, yes. It started from a child to the greater sum of this town, an inconsequential loss of life leading to, supposed, great tragedies, " The spirit spoke with a silver tongue, "And while the efforts of this town are commendable. They're simply looking at the wrong place."
James has watched the news from time to time. When in meetings with the association, after discussing a few things such as: Donations and participation of the town, the executives would always turn on the news. And there, James heard of the effort the authorities put to investigate this alarming trend. Curfew has been strict, from 9pm to 5pm, policemen roam the streets in groups, and the light of a police-car is always present.
Even in a place far away, like Elijah's Church, James would notice the flashing light of red and blue, and the piercing news of the horn. And to give them credit, the disappearance subsides, but only a little. Somehow, whoever is responsible always slips away from the authorities' eyes. Like the perpetrator has an ability to turn invincible, and make his every step as silent as the dead.
James has suspicion that the town is dealing with no ordinary criminal, or criminals. The math just doesn't add up in James' head, how could an entire town of police – of people looking for the scum – miss them?
"What do you mean looking in the wrong place? The entirety of San Joseph scoured every nook and cranny of this town, alongside the forest…" James knows something is up, but he decided to entertain the spirits musing, "Are you saying that it's not enough? And what could possibly be the true perpetrators? Aside from the theorized trafficking ring by the mafia."
"Mafia? Close enough, it is a group after all." James got startled by the spirits' words, "In the context of this town faith, what we are dealing with is a cult."
A cult…
It is simply defined as a small group of people that worships either a god, belief, or person. The word cult at its core is not malevolent, as all religion started as a cult at one point. However, James is now clenching his fist to the point his nails dug into his skin, in this case a cult is more attributed with heresy or a fanatical group that opposes the dominating belief.
James' head flashes him of memories of his bygone days as a tool for the church, a lot of blood and a lot of satanic worshiping. If what this spirit is talking about is true, then this is a problem. James knows of the lengths will people that believe in a thing, with obsessive devotion, could. He himself is familiar with that, because he is one at a far – gone – time.
And bring demonic forces into the mix, and you create a recipe for literal disasters. He remembers, all the order of Michael falling to the demons; that at one point, a cult manifested – he dare not say its accursed name.
"You could drop the pretense, Father. You know of this possibility already, " The spirit turned to him once more, a thin smile; again the inhuman melding with humanity, that James fished out of this homunculus like spirit, "Hound of Light? That was your nickname right?"
"Have you come simply to remind me of the past?" James asked. The light of the candles flickering, "To ridicule for not taking action? Are you the demon that I once fought."
The spirit snorted, as it crossed its arm, "If both of us were to fight, the other will not be talking to another – and I'm not talking about myself," James almost found the arrogance amusing, "No, my purpose is to remind you. You have the capabilities none of the people here have, you who can cut darkness with light; with the sword of Penance."
It knows about that too, " just what exactly are you."
The spirit squandered its own smile, "That question would get annoying in the time we'll work together, so I'll answer it now. You can call me Mahito, and I am a Jujutsu sorcerer."
Lightning flash, and thunder soon follows. An unlikely alliance between different worlds, one of light the other of Gray.
The question is. Will this take root and sprout into a worthwhile cooperation, or will this just be a battle of who can manipulate each other the most? The answer could be found, after the death of the current foe.
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