Cam appeared to be taking his sweet time, mulling over the other ingredients of his all-purpose bag of magic paraphernalia. “What exactly do you think you’ll be needing?”
That was a damn good question. This wasn’t one of my usual soul challenges, and I really had no idea what I’d be going up against, if anything at all. Axel had said they’d send someone, or some
A person, maybe? Somebody like me, but demon-sworn? I’d never turned my sword on another human being in my life. I honestly don’t know if I could. Let’s all just hope I’m never faced with making that decision.
“General protective spells on the gear. Bionic me up.” I didn’t think I could run down a Los Angeles street, waving a katana, so I’d need more than just my weapon in case things went bad. “A way to set up wards would be good, something portable. I’ve got mace already, but you could snazzy it up a bit.” Demon mace was only cayenne and cumin mixed together, but a little magic oomph couldn’t hurt. “Anything else you think might be useful. General anti-demon stuff?” Yeah, a font of information. That’s me.
“The wards are easy.” He pulled a spool of thick string out of his pack and laid it with the rest of his supplies. “And maybe…” He plucked a few more things out, then folded all the bottles and jars and knickknacks up in a cloth I hadn’t even seen him produce. Standing, he looked at me very seriously. “Once we’re inside the room, we don’t leave until we’re done. If you gotta piss, you should do it now.”
“Are you allowed to say that in a church?” He just rolled his eyes at me and disappeared through the low door. What could I do but follow?
Ducking to get through the doorway, I saw that there were also a few steps down, an awkward maneuver with an armload of armor and weaponry. The room itself was perfectly circular, as I’d guessed, with a raised altarlike surface in the dead center. A plain wooden cross hung from the ceiling above it, the end centered over the stone table where Cameron gently laid his supplies.
Though there were electric lights in this room as well, the priest then went around to wall sconces and lit torches—
“I thought you’d never been here before.” Finding no place to set down my heavy burden, I was forced to just stand there and wait.
“The Sanctum is the same in any church that has one. Most of them on this continent were even built by the same man, back in the early 1900s. Until that point, the Order was solely based in Europe.” With quick, precise movements, he started setting things around the altar, a place for each one and everything in its place. I couldn’t help but smirk a little, watching him. “They’re scattered all over the country, available for whoever might need them.”
“So, everybody knows that demon-hunting knights might come strolling in at any time?”
“No. Only a few in each parish. Most think this is just a room for meditation and prayer.” He flicked his lighter one more time, lighting a tiny candle in his array of random objects. “They know it as the Sanctum. The rest of us know it as the Sanctum Arcanum.”
Finally, I leaned against the wall, careful not to get my long hair anywhere near the flickering torches. “Why is the Order a secret, even within the church?”
Cameron finally looked up from his fiddling. “Why doesn’t Marty want to talk to you anymore?” I frowned, and he nodded. “Because some people, even those in the church, just can’t handle that reality.” He turned his gaze back down to his work, examining everything on a microscopic level, it seemed. “Those who can handle it…they get recruited, either as knights or as support staff.”
“Like Reverend Ricky.”
“Yeah, like Ricky.” Cam smiled a little. “We went to seminary together, actually. He’s a good man.”
“So why’s he not a knight?”
“He was.” With a few minor adjustments, Cam seemed satisfied with his toys. “You can’t tell, but he’s blind in his left eye now. They pulled him out of circulation.” He stood up straight, stretching a little, then motioned to me. “Bring me the sword first, we’ll start with that.”
I laid the new sword on the altar where Cam directed, and stepped back. The priest took another moment to just look over the wonder that was my blade. “This is the kind of sword that ought to have a name.”
“He called it The Way.”
“The etchings…that’s the same as your tattoos, right?”
“Yeah.” I was still touched that Marty had gone to such amazing effort, all for me. For a guy he didn’t even really like anymore. “Get this moving, it’s freezing down here.”
“Step back a little more.” I did, and Cameron closed his eyes, placing one palm on the hilt, the other on the tip of the blade.
His lips moved silently for a few moments. That was one thing I’d noticed, Cameron’s magic required words. Mira’s didn’t. I found the differences fascinating. Mira would have cast a circle, a barrier of her own will. Cam scrubbed down like a brain surgeon. My wife’s implements usually involved a scrying bowl and various herbs. I spotted salt on Cam’s altar, alongside saltpeter, wine, and a tiny bottle of magnetized iron shavings. A cross, of course, in addition to the one already hanging overhead.
The priest mouthed something, in Latin I think, and the thick scent of cloves wafted out of nowhere. My skin tingled again, like pins and needles, and I couldn’t help but rub my fingertips together, like I could almost grab it if I just knew how.
To my left, one of the lightbulbs shattered with a pop and a fizzle. I flinched just in time to avoid being peppered with glass fragments, and brushed the sparks off my shoulder before it could catch my hair on fire. Two more bulbs across the room followed suit, eliminating three of the four electric lights. The torches kept flickering merrily, but the place looked even more like a dungeon than it had before.
