Of Evil and Angels

Chapter 4

After the ominous revelation about her new boss’s vocation, Alyssalee could not fall back to sleep. Her knowledge of the Elder Gods was limited, and the horror movies from the Bright Days being outlawed by UNUM left her clueless. That said, movies were the logical way to get up to speed on the subject. The challenge was that paladins enforced the edicts of UNUM—not that fiction was in any way indicative of fact, but a criminal act all the same. She wondered if Kit had illegal copies.

She gave up on sleep and resolved to get ready for her big first day at work. Gwendelyn had already left for the Lauds’ prayer. She shuffled to the washbasin and filled her mouth with water, waving the oral wand around her cheeks and lips. A tinge of fuzziness grew across her gums as an ultrasonic field grew. Her mind wandered over thoughts of demons and exorcisms. Spitting, she admired the sparkly white teeth and how they complemented her pale face.

She made her way to the communal showers with bathing shoes on her feet. Slipping off her pajamas, she threw them in a wad on a storage shelf. She adjusted the water valves in small increments, to get the water temperature to neither scold nor pucker her skin. When it was near burning, she let the water envelop her in warmth. Alyssalee stole a glimpse at the stall next to her. Its occupant was distractedly lathering and paying significantly more attention to Alyssalee’s body than her own.

Being the recipient of outright gawking was a common occurrence for Alyssalee. Athleticism was sorely missing at the orphanage. The many hours Alyssalee spent running, doing isometric exercise, and hologaming in physical mode had led to a ripped, lean physique—something not seen among the women here. For fun, Alyssalee squared off her body in slow motion to face her admirer and deliberately started rinsing her breasts with her hands—ignoring the fact that she hadn’t even washed them yet. Alyssalee made defiant eye contact with her neighbor and then methodically maneuvered her eyes across the neophyte’s body. Lust-filled eyes stopped between the mortified bather’s legs, with the corner of Alyssalee’s lips raising in a grin. Alyssalee was amazed by the massive jungle bush in front of her. Residents of the Sisters of Light were neither afforded the tools nor encouraged to indulge in such vanities as waxing. The neighboring stall vacated in haste, forgetting to retrieve her toiletries.

Sadly, playtime was over, and Alyssalee realized she’d better hurry to ensure she made it to the Unified Light Parish on time. Upon arriving back in her room, she opted for a more formal look, far from her usual venture. Even though she would have the dark cassock pulled over her clothes, she somehow felt conformity would make her more focused—the whole “dress for success” cliché. Standard UNUM-issue black cotton leggings and a black long-sleeved tunic were her selections. She scanned her footwear choices: vestment clogs, combat boots, and black knee-high suede boots. She went with the clogs.

The morning air was thick and wet as she scanned the street, noting the empty levboard racks. The red, pockmarked, public-use ones were all Alyssalee had ever used. People with money, any money, had their own units. The street was busy with so much red, like some weird fruit was blooming in the streets. She spotted the one remaining levboard leaning on a rack across the street. As she strode over to take the unit, a disheveled man grabbed it with no acknowledgment of her deliberate intentions. She went from zero to pissed in the blink of an eye. The man jerked his hand back, shaking off some unseen injury and cursing, “f*****g mind hackers!”

Whatever, she thought, having no idea what had happened but elated that the man left the levboard to her. She started the ten-minute glide to the parish with a rush of adrenaline.

Riding the ground-hugging surface currents with the occasional cutback, she considered her past trips to Unified Light Parish, which were usually somber—services for the Sisters that were freed of their humdrum lives. Maybe they were happy though. Blindsided by the lip of surface wind, Alyssalee came close to slipping off the rail of the levboard and cursed. She focused on navigating the street routes and finally arrived at the parish in one piece.

The enormity of this new chapter in her life abruptly squashed her insides as she stood at the entrance of Unified Light. Apprehension hit her like a hammer. What do I know of demons, of the exorcism ritual, of taking direction from a vicar? Maybe Gwendelyn was wrong about his commission, or this was a gig to keep the vicar’s stoles neatly pressed, and that was it. What if she inadvertently pissed him off? Alyssalee was under no illusion that she lacked impulse control and any amount of amiability. If he fired her, it’d be straight back to the Sisters of Light. She shook herself as if trying to expel unwanted residue from her clothes. All right. Here we go, she thought and pushed open the narthex doors.

The parish was a medium-sized one, not much larger than the chapel at the Sisters of Light. Access to the parsonage was to the side of the entrance. She’d never been in the personal quarters of the clergy before. She gave the door a firm walloping and waited. And waited. Ready to provide the door a further beating, it opened.

Vicar Emsworth greeted Alyssalee while turning on his heel. “Come, come,” he said.

He was a diminutive man, shorter than Alyssalee but more fit than the Sisters from the lay of his vestments. His black hair had well-placed white highlights that looked almost deliberate. Alyssalee followed with slow steps, studying the residence as if making plans for a commando raid.

“Follow me, please,” the vicar said. He led her down a hallway to a room containing an ornate desk. The desk had two intricately carved chairs in front, angled toward the center. “Please sit, Candidate Quiteria.”

That was a good start, she thought. He knows my name. A feeling started creeping its way to the pit of her stomach. The notion that the Sisters offered her up as a random mouth breather to serve at every whim of the vicar crossed her mind. Alyssalee slid the leftmost chair with a violent screech, centering it in front of the vicar. The vicar watched with a furrowed brow.

Finally, he said, “Very good. I am impressed with you already.”

Alyssalee stared.

“You are a full ten minutes early,” the vicar went on. “Excellent. So, let’s get down to it. A request for you to assist me with a new assignment came from the diocese. Have you worked on other UNUM assignments?”

“No, this is my first assignment, Father.”

“And as I understand it, you are an aspirant at the Sisters of Light. Have you determined your calling?”

“No, Father,” she replied, her head dipping.

“These things take time and much consideration. How long have you been in contemplation?”

“Nearly three years, Father.”

Vicar Emsworth chuckled. “Well, there is nothing wrong with seeking certainty, but as a spiritual advisor, I will tell you that the absolute knowing of your path is an adventure in futility for most... therefore, we practice faith in the unseen.”

BS, Alyssalee thought. The Called used this as a copout when UNUM indoctrinations weren’t convenient. Alyssalee nodded to move the conversation along.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Candidate Quiteria, UNUM has assigned me the task of ministering to those who are afflicted. You will look after the ciborium of UNUM and any other tasks that are required.”

Hope was rising within Alyssalee—figuring this assignment wasn’t weird after all. “So, we are administering the viaticum to the dying?” Alyssalee asked cautiously. She had heard of UNUM assignments where the sole purpose was to provide the last rites. Easy, she thought.

He looked down at the bare desk in front of him as if the answer to the question was inscribed in the old wood. “Would you be fine if we dispensed with the formalities?”

Alyssalee, not known for formality—not by a longshot—nodded.

“Alyssalee, it’s complex, and I do not want you to fear the work we have in front of us. It is to minister to those vetted by UNUM and determined to be afflicted. By demonic forces.”

Her stomach sank to her feet.

“I thought exorcisms were a thing of the Elder Gods,” she said inquisitively.

“Yes, you are correct, and this brings me to an essential point that must be stressed—this is a confidential assignment. This is a secret assignment, and it must remain so.” He paused. “Do you understand this, Alyssalee?”

It was all making sense. Sending someone holding the title of vicar was a bit lofty for a low-level ministry. Usually, you see priests of UNUM in traveling ministries—not vicars.

“Yes, I understand,” Alyssalee said, with an animated zipping-of-the-lips motion.

“Are you familiar with maintaining the ciborium of UNUM?” he asked.

“I have assisted with the blessings at the chapel. I think I know what to do.”

“Good then. Please see that your personal matters are in order. We will depart for our first case the day after next. UNUM will send your travel documents by courier tomorrow.”

“Where, Father?”

“New Vegas,” he replied.

Excitement rippled across Alyssalee’s flesh, similar to the feeling when awarded a new ability in Sword of Sanctity. Her life had been as a caged falcon, never traveling farther than she could venture on a levboard to make it back before lights-out. Visions of what people were like outside Bethlehem filled her imagination. She didn’t even know where New Vegas was, but it already had a magical feeling to her. Images of sophisticated people surrounded by fresh new buildings and infrastructure—no sea of old, paint-peeled levboards—caused her heart to race. It was a given that people were better off elsewhere, she figured.

Alyssalee left the parish with a spring in her step. Her levboard was where she left it, and as she powered it up and stood on the deck, she planned to let whatever friends were at the holocade know she was going—and kill some templars, of course. It might be a while before she came across another holocade in her travels. Oddly, the thought of not playing Sword of Sanctity didn’t bring down her mood—not in the least.

It was raining quite hard now instead of the nearly twenty-four seven drizzle, so she engaged the climate field, keeping the rain and wind off her. The levboard whined as she departed with a smile on her face, not even having the accompanying embarrassment that often ensued following a display of emotion.