* * * * * *
I’d been waiting in my room for a couple hours by this point. The robed stranger had been out there with my pa the entire time, and by the look of things, it wasn’t going well. I was peering through my window, save for the moments when my father would glance back and send me hiding. I don’t rightly know what they were speaking about, but that feeling, deep down in the pit of my stomach, was more pronounced.
My father had never acted so out of character before and while I looked down upon him, I came to a troubling discovery. Something had changed between my father and me, as if an emotional tether had been severed between us. He was my father, but it was like he was no longer my pa.
This so-called priest was a terrifying man, deathly pale and wrapped in a contrasting black ceremonial dress. He was shaved bald with a nasty scar that ran down his brow and past his milky white right eye, the other was a piercing blue that seemed to stare into ones soul and see their true self. He scared the life out of me, yet I couldn’t look away in fear of what might happen.
Knock. Knock. Startled, I once again dashed from the window.
“May I come in?” my mother asked from the other side of the door. “I’d like to talk to yeh.”
“Of course, mum,” I replied.
“Do yeh know what’s goin’ on, Horace?” asked my mother as she sat down beside me on the bed.
“No, mum,” I said. “I haven’t a clue.”
I was lying, of course, but she didn’t need to know that. I figured if I played dumb that there might be a chance of learning something. It wasn’t a good chance, but for an eight year old boy, I figured I didn’t have much in the way of options.
“Good,” she whispered into my ear. “Thing’s you don’t need to worry nothin’ ‘bout.”
“Can I ask ya somethin’ ma?” I asked with eyes wide open. “You an’ pa… yer always gonna be ‘round, ain’t ya?”
“Always, ‘ace,” she said soothingly. “There ain’t a force on this earth that’ll keep yer pa and me away from yeh.”
My mother wasn’t the crying type. In many ways she was a tougher sort than my father, always primed for a fight and a take no prisoners attitude. She’d seen a lot of rough stuff before meeting up with pa. Not that you’d ever be able to tell, unless you got on her bad side. Whoever this priest was, I didn’t envy him one bit.
The arguing outdoors stopped and I rushed to the window. Neither my father nor the priest could be seen. My mother joined me and gave me a tight hug that seemed to last an eternity. Maybe it was her way of saying goodbye, or it could’ve just been hopeful wishes, but even her touch now felt distant and foreign. She was my mother, always would be, but she didn’t feel like ma.
Knock. Knock. Knock. I could always tell when my father was at the door. These knocks were unfamiliar and somewhat hostile.
“Can I come in?” my father asked. “The priest an’ I’ve made a deal.”
“Would that be okay, ‘ace?” my mother asked as she squeezed my hand. “Yeh just say the word and he ain’t gonna step foot in ‘ere.”
“No, ma… I’ll talk to the man.”
“Are yeh sure?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“Aye, Mal,” my mother hollered. “Yeh can bring ‘im in, but talkin’s all he’s gonna do.”
“I promise you that, ma’am,” the priest replied as he entered the room. “My name’s Walter Astor and I can assure you my intentions are only to offer Horace an alternative. The choice is his to make.”
“Better be,” my mother grumbled, “or I’ll get the shotgun myself.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Horace,” said Walter. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting with you for some time now.”
“Mr. Astor’s from the Order of Reapers and he’d like a few words with ya,” my father said. “I told him that ya’d listen to his words, but he’s no right to force ya to anythin’ ya don’t wanna do, ya got that?”
“Yes sir.”
“I appreciate the introduction,” Walter began, “but I didn’t exactly say I’m part of the order, though our interests often overlap with one another.”
“My apologies,” my father said.
“None needed,” the priest replied. “First, young Horace, I’d like to know if you’ve any questions to ask me.”
“Where ya from, sir? I don’t rightly recall another man talkin’ like ya do… or looking like ya do—.”
“Horace!” lectured my mother, “Yeh watch yeh manners when in this man’s company, yeh hear?”
“It’s quite all right, Mrs. McKidrict,” said Walter as sat down. “A little curiosity is always a good thing in a boy. Well, boy, I’m from Liverpool… and the story of how I came to look like this is a very long story.”
“Yer a Brit?” my father asked in astonishment. “Met at lot o’ Brits in my day… never would’ve pegged you as one.”
“Ah yes, the accent,” Walter said with a smile. “I may’ve been born in Liverpool, but I was educated with the order… hence why you weren’t able to detect my accent.”
“Yer real old, mister,” I said. I should’ve been more respectful, but around here there weren’t many people that reached his age, his face all wrinkly and the scar was off-putting.
“Oh?” Walter asked with a stroke of his chin. “I’m not that old, am I?”
“Ya look it.”
“Looks can be deceiving, boy,” Walter affirmed. “This mask I wear is nothing more than a battle scar from an encounter with a succubus.”
“Ya fight monsters?” I asked beaming with excitement. “How cool is that?”
“Yes,” he said, “and you can, too.”
“Mal,” my mother said through pursed lips. “I don’t like where this is goin’.”
“Please don’t fill the boy’s head with stories, priest,” my father said.
“I understand,” Walter replied. “Perhaps it would be better if I explain just what the order does… and why we choose the people that we do.”
“That’d be fine,” my father said.
“The order of reapers has existed for over five hundred and fifty years,” Walter continued. “When the first Vatican City was swallowed whole by the earth and opened the gateway to the other dimensions, humans were caught in the middle of a war that raged for decades. A long period of darkness followed in its wake and plunged humanity down a dark path. It’s the job of a reaper to cast back that darkness and fight for those that cannot. Heaven has its hands full, son, and it’s our duty to give them the edge in the battle against the Devil himself.”
“I... I don’t think I’d like that.”
“Well, Horace,” said Walter as he rose to his feet. “There are some things in life that we cannot walk away from. You’re a very talented young man and I’m here to bring you in.”
“Ya heard the boy!” my father shouted. “He don’t want nothin’ to do with yer cause. Get out now, priest, or I’ll shoot ya dead!”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Walter said. “Now I don’t take any pleasure in separating a boy from his family, but this boy was meant for a higher calling. Disagree all you wish… your boy leaves here with me.”
“Mal,” my mother wavered. “… Get the gun.”
My father rushed from the room and down to the living room to fetch his shotgun. Walter waited patiently for his arrival; my mother pulled me back into the corner of the room and held me tightly.
“Yeh better get goin while yeh got a chance, priest,” she said. “I swear… if Mal don’t find the stomach to pull the trigger, I’ll do it myself.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Walter said. “Things generally end on this path.”
My father entered in a hurry, sweat beading down his forehead and shotgun quivering in front. He wasn’t a bad man, and I knew he could think of nothing worse than killing a priest. It wasn’t until I saw the bright flash of fire streak across my bedroom that I understood what it was that he truly feared.
The shotgun crashed to the floor and my father grabbed hold of his hand, which was bleeding profusely on the hardwood floor. He looked back at the priest, completely dumbfounded as to how he’d failed.
Walter stood with pistol in hand and a smirk on his withered old face. He could’ve killed my father if he wanted to, but chose to remind him just who they were dealing with.
“Now, I can respect a man that cares enough about his boy to defend him with his life,” Walter said as he approached my father, “but Horace’s coming with me and there’s nothing you can do to prevent that. You’ll see your child again… all you need is a little faith.”
“Ya get the hell outta here—!” my father bellowed.
The priest pistol whipped my pa and he went down with a thud. I could see the blood pouring from his head, his wounds deep and not likely to close anytime soon.
“Yeh son of a bitch!” my mother screamed as she lifted me and dashed towards the door. She never even stopped to tend to her husband, thinking only of the threat we faced. With a hand in the air she charged forward, her battle cry echoing throughout the room. “I’ll kill yeh if it’s the last thing I do!”
“I feel your pain, Edna,” said Walter, sidestepping my mother. “You’ve nothing to worry about… I’ll treat the boy with the respect he deserves; I can assure you of that.”
He struck my mother with the pistol and she fell beside my father. I wanted to save them from the bad old man, but I just stood there, quivering in my boots. He grabbed hold of me and carried me from the room. I was kicking and screaming, crying for my parents, but it was to no avail. I was the order’s now, to do with as they saw fit.
“I’m sorry to have to do this, Horace,” Walter said as he put me down and looked me in the eye. “Your calling is too great to waste, you may never thank me for what happened here today… but the world will.”
Like my parents, he struck me with the butt end of his pistol. That’s when a completely new life began. The next time I awoke, I was living in the south of Italy in the care of strangers. I was no longer a boy, but a tool for use in a war I knew nothing about.
They educated me, told me of the world and how it’s been tainted by the otherworldly presences that stalk the land. How it was our duty to use the powers bestowed in us to save those we could and fight back against those that would harm us. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I enjoyed the grandeur of it all, but it didn’t take long for the reality of the situation to fester within me.
I grew to respect Walter, but I never forgave him. I never did learn what became of my parents. It’s not like I could ever go back there and face them, not after what I’d become. Sure, I looked human enough, but a cold and dark heart lay beneath my skin. They’d heal, move on with their life, and maybe even raise another kid. It would be a better life without me in it.