I

  “You’re sure this is going to work?” Morgan asked, his voice heavy with fatigue.

  “Got a better idea?” I shot back, irritation slipping through. “We wait until he comes to us. It’s not like we have another choice.”

  “Or maybe he backed off,” Morgan said. “From what we know, the guy probably knows exactly who we are. Our presence alone could’ve scared him away.”

  “I doubt it. We were digging around his next target before, and he still showed up. Besides… there wasn’t another victim, was there?”

  “There wasn’t?”

  As much as Morgan’s attitude was getting on my nerves, I couldn’t really blame him. The pressure surrounding this case was enormous — even I felt it. And he answered directly to the government. That meant everything hit him a hundred times harder.

  “Alright. What about the preacher?” he continued. “Any unusual behavior? Anything suspicious? We don’t know if he’s received threats. Warnings.”

  “Nothing, really,” I said, getting up from my chair. “I’ve been talking to him almost every day for the past week. The only thing that stands out is how vain and disorganized he is. If something was happening, he’d sing about it immediately. So far he’s just been complaining about the protests.”

  “That’s another problem,” Morgan muttered.

  On that point, I had to agree. I didn’t blame the protesters. Hell, in their place, I’d probably be out there too. But with everything already falling apart, the possibility of riots didn’t promise anything good.

  I paced back and forth, unable to stop thinking about the killer. His arrogance, his smug confidence — it irritated me more than it should have. Especially since it had already cost me personally.

  Morgan’s next question caught me off guard.

  “Maybe you should take a break.”

  “A break? Now?” I snapped. “Why the hell would I take time off at a moment like this?”

  “To rest,” he replied calmly. “Seems obvious.”

  “We don’t have time for that.”

  “Charlie,” he sighed, “you need to understand you’re not solving this alone. I know revenge is driving you—”

  “I don’t want revenge,” I cut in sharply.

  “Good. Then make sure it stays that way.”

  He stood up and poured himself a cup of coffee. For a while he sipped it in silence, as if waiting for me to say something else. When I didn’t, he walked over, steered me toward the station door, and once we crossed the threshold, shoved me outside.

  “Don’t come back for three days!”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  The door slammed shut before I could respond.

  With nowhere else to go, I headed home.

  II

  I didn’t even bother taking off my gear before heading straight for the bathroom, passing the television humming in the background.

  “There’s no water,” Susan said without looking away from the screen, as if she’d read my mind.

  I turned around automatically and dropped to the floor in front of the couch, face down, like I usually did when I was too tired to function. After a moment, something nudged my shoulder.

  “You could at least change,” she said from above me. “I’d understand me looking like this. But you?”

  “Listening to that guy all day is exhausting,” I muttered into the carpet.

  “You think I’ve got it better?” she replied, switching off the TV. “There are twenty channels and every single one is controlled. So don’t act like you’re the only one suffering.”

  I pushed myself up and started removing my equipment piece by piece. When I finished, I sat down beside her. I must’ve looked half-dead, because she immediately pinched my arm.

  “Hey. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “You’re never here,” she said. “You come back completely drained. You don’t see anything beyond this case.”

  “It’s important.”

  “Of course it is,” she interrupted. “But it’s not the most important thing. Right?”

  “…Right,” I admitted. “Which is why I’ve got three days off.”

  “You didn’t come up with that yourself, did you?”

  “You know me too well.”

  “No. You’re just painfully simple.”

  We lay there in silence. I stared at the ceiling and started counting the patches where the paint had peeled off. For some reason, that stupid little detail gave me more peace than anything else lately.

  A light kick tapped against my head.

  “She’s hungry,” Susan said.

  I got up and rummaged through the drawers in the kitchenette.

  “Toast!” she called from the other side of the room.

  “Since when can we afford luxuries like that?”

  “Since Morgan got us more funding.”

  The toaster wasn’t new — just an old piece of junk I’d found somewhere and repaired. After a brief mechanical struggle, I brought the toast over. Susan immediately sank her teeth into it.

  “How do you feel?” I asked.

  “Like shit,” she replied, chewing. “But I managed to get up on crutches today.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I’d say ‘less hopeless,’ but sure.”

  Suddenly the room went completely dark.

  I instinctively moved to stand up, but Susan grabbed my sleeve.

  “Don’t bother. It’ll be back in the morning. Like every day.”

  “Like every day?”

  “Yeah. You’re barely home. You probably didn’t notice.”

  So it’s worse than I thought.

  She leaned against my shoulder.

  “You don’t mind if I stay like this for a bit?”

  I was so exhausted I fell asleep almost at the same time she did.

  III

  The last three days were the calmest I’d had in a long time. No demons. No protests. No politicians. No priests.

  Just the two of us.

  It passed too quickly.

  “I’m heading out!” I shouted, closing the door.

  “Bring something good!” she called back.

  As I walked toward the church again, nothing seemed unusual. Of course, “nothing unusual” by our standards — in any other city, protests like these would’ve meant total collapse.

  When I reached the cathedral, though, the sight inside made my stomach tighten.

  “What are they doing here?”

  Besides the usual handful of believers and the priest at the pedestal, there were corporate gendarmes — many of them. Heavily armed. Watching everything.

  Their cold, suspicious stares found me immediately.

  The priest noticed me as well. He hurriedly finished his sermon and approached with visible relief.

  “Mr. Freeman, I’m so glad you’re here. I have an urgent matter.”

  “Careful, Father,” one of the soldiers said — clearly ranking above the others.

  Captain, I guessed.

  “No need to worry,” the priest replied quickly. “This is the man I mentioned.”

  The officer didn’t look convinced. His eyes stayed locked on me.

  “I need your help,” the priest continued. “You are a specialist, after all.”

  “A specialist in what?”

  “In demons,” he clarified. “I have reason to believe one may have nested somewhere in the building. That’s why I called these gentlemen. But I must continue the service. I can’t send them away from the main hall. Could you check the rest of the building?”

  I exhal

  ed slowly.

  “Fine.”

  The sooner the corporation got out of my workplace, the better.