Posts Tagged ‘Aliens’


Speedster called, but she’s still laid up at home and Johnny Power is playing nursemaid. That left the mysterious, Mystery to float down to the ashram to investigate. I know he likes to play off that he is this living enigma, but truly that is for those outside of the know. Not ol’ Shotgun have you though. This was a Street Avenger. It appeared the villainous K (a Nazi super-killer) had done him in, but left him in the sewers with amnesia for years. He finally regained his memory, a Kevin Katz. But still hiding from his true self. A tri-kinetic, low level, part telekinetic, telepath with flickering’s of pyro kinesis.

I stand at the gate. The ashram has seen better days, burnt out, by my old eyes, from the inside out.  The metal burst in such a way to look like a tormented lotus in bloom. At the centre, pipes twisted into an upside down cross.

Puff intakes as I light a Cuban and begin walking towards the floating man in the billowing trench coat and fedora. Rumour had it that Zed was some ancient alien entity that our ancestors in Greece called Zeus, in Rome, Jupiter. His latest form to survive he had taken on the monastic form.

But here he was stripped to the skivvies, upside down like tradition tells us they did St. Peter. The glimmering fires I can see the scourge marks on the back. But his throat is slit. Who knew alien-godling-immortals bled chartreuse. If I wasn’t processing information to spot some clues I am sure I would laugh.

“Will.” Mystery’s voice sounds like a bad impersonation of the Shadow radio voice.

“Mystery.” I know who he is. He still won’t admit it. Not worth the oxygen having the same argument over and over again. Wonder though if he remembers the many times we tangled back in the day. Ah the bad ol’ days, sometimes it is hard to not want to take that path again, so comfortable like a worn pair of Levi originals they used to sell with Harley’s. The new path still takes breaking in of the new jeans creases.  But breaking in is the way to repay my karmic debt, as Zed once intoned it to me.

Now I am looking at—friend is to strong a word—colleague? Bit more, teammate just hanging there. “Any idea when rescue gets here to cut the poor bastard down?” I ask.

Mystery softly lands before me. “Rumour has it, Rick called in a favour to allow me to attempt to see if I could capture anything from his essence.” It is a telepaths trick, for those a bit stronger, that they sometimes if they respond quick enough can grasp a bit of synaptic energy and replay the last moments for clues. “Sadly, we were too late.”

I nod slowly, but my eye catches a blinking green light. Mystery’s eye slit (only thing visible between fedora brim and black kerchief) moves to the blinking light. I take a puff on my cigar as I move and squat. I go to click the flashing button on the cube, reminds me of that asinine power saving power bar the government gave me for free a few months back.

Mystery uses a telekinetic push and holds my hand still. “What if it’s a trap?”

“Well, I either press it and it goes boom, or we wait till the flashing stops and its goes boom, either way boom.”

I actually believe Mystery laughs as he releases my hand and I double tap (yes I loved Zombieland too) the button.

The blinking stops.

I exhale a little, didn’t think I was holding my breath.

Mystery looks at me, I give him my best Han Solo grin as the box pops apart and a beam opens wide with a whir. Hologram. I really hate this sci-fi shit. Not as much as the godling-alien murder crap, but its in the top 20 things I despise (though surprisingly not as high yuppified coffee bevvies).

The image is simple.

How did they manage to pull of murdering an entity whose twin existed and required literally the Son of the Devil to exorcise?

Mystery exhales. “Killer Faces.”

To Be Continued…

 

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Best way to understand the new Johnny Power in action is he reminded him of the Eleventh Doctor, the one that seemed to have adult ADHD or even Hammy off Over the Hedge on the energy drink. It’s usually Speedster’s that have focus issues, but in this new duo it was the leaping over tall buildings and super strength that produced the focus issues.

The Evil was moving rapidly towards the red headed woman dressed for a night out of clubbing. He pegged her age mid-20’s if she was a day…and soon she would join the previous victim. Power is flitting about all over, thankfully Speedster he noted is trying to get a deeper focus with the rumbling skies, flashing lightning and fog.  Fog was new. The Evil was trying to cover its tracks.  He had to stop the advance upon the victim.

What the hell had MacKay been thinking sending these two out into the hunting grounds?

* * * * **

Susan turned to the words. MacKay aimed his shotgun as the dust cleared.

Zed dusted some of the splinters off him. His robes had burn holes.  The skin that was burnt began regenerating as it is what ancient immortal alien beings hiding on earth from those that would destroy them do.

Susan glanced at the immortal being, he appeared to almost be cowering behind MacKay, attempting to still look strong.  The words though kept ringing in her ears. “Bionics on.” Only two others had used that phrase, her best friend and lover, and his best friend. Who was back there?

Pen wasn’t providing any insight, he had startled awake and was softly growling.

Sheath lightning fills the Ashram (double wide) again.

Thunder cracks.

Another voice as the trailer whites out with lightening.

“The Great Crime Fighters I presume.”

* ******

The fog fills in the hunting grounds surrounding the four. He loses track of whom he believes The Evil’s prey to be.

“J somethings coming.” Speedster said.

Power attempts to leap up out of the fog that is at six feet high and rising.

Mystery’s eyes lock onto the prey only… she’s no longer there. “A mirage.” It comes out as a whispering hiss. How could he have missed that.  The Evil was not after another normal mortal but… “a supra.”  He whirls on his wing tips.

The fog turns to fire.

“Fuck me. I know this evil.”

 

* * * * * * *

Another flash of lightening as the dust cleared.

The armour shimmered.

The sword was drawn in a parry formation.

The helmeted eyes crackled with green flame.

“Step aside villain. The godling must perish.” A voice that resounded as a Greek Chorus.

Susan moved in front of MacKay much to his protestations. Her eyes locked on the armoured figure. No recognition from the Knight before them. But there was a pull she felt to look into the reflective helmet.

“Who are you?” Susan asked.

The figure in the armour stepped forward again. “I am the PenDragon. The one this world calls the Bionic Knight. If you stand with this thing called Zed, then you are my foe.” The sword thrusts forward. “And you shall die.”

To Be Continued…

 

 

 

 


  1. How can you see the splinter in your brother’s eye while you have chunks within your own?
    21.First take the chunks from out your eye and then you may behold the splinter in your brother’s eye and help him take it out,
    22. And while your eyes are full of foreign things you cannot see the way, for you are blind,
    23. And when the blind lead forth the blind, both lose the way and fall into the slough.
    24. If you would lead the way to God you must be clear in sight, as well as pure in heart.

-Aquarian Gospel of Jesus the Christ 100: 20-24

Zed attempted to kill me instead of allowing the journey to free my friend to unfold. The question that needed to be asked is freed from what? Something was blocking me. In some religions, they call it sin. In other forms of spiritualism, it is the ego or the shadow that derails you out of the flow of creation. Is this what the Thor entity represented to my friend?

Ancient Rabbi Jesus of Nazareth taught about the log in your own eye while you picked at another friend’s sin.  The challenge on not being able to see yourself or what is going wrong because there is always someone else you can say “at least I am no them” or “at least its not that.” Completely missing the point that those chunks floating around within your own eye are clouding your soul. Is this the journey, better yet the grail quest I am on now? To be able to remove the chunks from my own eye? Release my ego and re-enter the flow properly? Is that where this journey is leading.

Susan is lightly snoring on the sofa when I re-enter the house, Pen is still on my shoulder purring…yes, I realize it is weird to think that a dragon would purr, but the gaffer is species fluid. I pull up the afghan on to her. She mumbles slightly and turns her head into my bruised knuckles. After all these years, you would think I would learn how to throw a punch that wouldn’t hurt so much? Check that I am used to throwing punches in mystical armour, but Zed had shown something is going down, and I need to figure out how to bridge the gap.

It is almost impulsive to rub my own eyes as I slump on the floor by her head. The light in the hall way lights the way to the girls’ room. My two empaths that can give you a clear read on any person in the world and their intention. It is one of the blessings that come with there being differently abled.

Susan stirs. “Rick did you…”

“Zed attempted to kill me.”

I let that statement hang in the air. Not exactly something she was expecting to hear, but not shocking enough to fully awake my dozing wife. Though I guess she has come to the same conclusion that I did, this immortal wants to seek revenge against the antagonist entity, or is there something else? Since the ashram beat down that teaching of Brother Jesus has been bouncing around in my brain the chunks I am looking through to hyper focus on the speck.  What is the speck?

“The speck is John’s ghost.” Susan mumbles before turning back over to sleep.

The speck is John’s ghost.

What are the chunks in my own eyes?

Time to go back to the grave, the fist chunk is my own grief.

Pen slips quietly into my coat pocket as I once again leave the house locking the door behind me. Towards the cemetery to clear the chunks from my own eyes to clearly see. See what?

Grail quest. For some it was the cup of Christ, that which he drank from at the Last Supper, that which Judas and Peter, the yin-yang of the Holy Week happenings shared communion with the Lord. Sought by the supposed source I am resurrected from when I speak my mantra, Arthur PenDragon who searched many years for the Grail. Yet more recently some have supposed that the Grail was the Sacred Feminine, or even the ancient line of Christ himself as carried through his bride in gnostic teachings of Mary Magdalene, who it is believed by legend fled to France post resurrection.

But where does this lead me? Except into a foggy old cemetery at night. Standing before the grave marker of my friend. John MacCurtis. Needing to dive back into the divine flow to truly see where he is resting. To release his soul into resurrection or release? What choice will he make? Pen stirs again as I kneel on the damp ground.

The cross of life, or as some would know it as an Ankh on the ground digging into the ground of the grave. The Latin comes through my connection to Pen.   The chunks have fallen away as the incantation concludes and lightning flashes in my eyes.

Golden lightning.

Time to re-enter Camelot a place I thought long destroyed but that is the revelation for the grail is beyond the veil and the cross of life reveals the face of my friend.

One last time into the breach.

“Bionics on.”

Lightning crashes the ground.

Across the city, a woman with blue flame streaked hair sits upright fully awake on a couch. “Come home to me Rick or by God I will kill you.” A lone tear trickles down her face for fear this may be the one time she won’t be the grail he seeks to come home through.

To Be Continued…

 


An immortal sociopathic alien entity has been playing with the lives of Supras and Canadians for many years. Years ago, Speare’s friend’s husband came back from the Purgatory between H’el and Valhalla having sacrificed his physical health to vanquish the entity and release its hold on one John MacCurtis, the current mayor of the city.

Yet a string of murders starting with a mystery lady named Reesa has laid the ground work that this entity is not vanquished, and there is a strong possibility that the first victim is actually alive, under an assumed name as the mayor’s hired gunsal, and well, said hired gun was actually carrying the current resurrected sociopathic entity.

This was confirmed in a night meeting, in a closed urban garden with the immortal alien entity known colloquially as Zeus, but the past 40 years had been the hero to Canada known as Zed. The monk that had opened a gap in time and space to reveal a weapon that may do what Natan had been unable to do in the in between.

Zed held the ancient war hammer of the mythological Norse God of Thor. It was tipped with a spike.

Natan smiled at his lover as he reached for it. “Run him through and poof.”

Zed nodded, “but first you have to get him to leave his host and face you as himself.”

Sax looked to Speare, “basically abandoned the one we believe to be Reesa.”

“What happens when this thing leaves a host?” Speare asked.

Natan cracked his knuckles.  “It de-aged MacCurtis, but he was alive when he was possessed, erased most of his memories of the time, until the reawakening of the Great Crime Fighters the past few years.”  Speare nodded, others dubbed it the renewal of hope, but same thing when the true heroes came back. “However if Reesa were dead when taken possession of, there would be but dust left.”

Natan advances towards Zed, “I will finish it this time.”

Speare sidesteps swiping the hammer. Zed laughs. “No, Nate, look you and Sax have a chance at living a life without boundaries, let your love shine. This is the crap I do for my pay cheque.”

It is Sax’s turn to laugh. “You actually think if you pull this out the mayor will pay you?”

“It’s an election year, there is nothing like occult and alien conspiracy in the office to drive paying of invoices on time to ensure proper cover up.” Speare said.

“Speare, I failed the first time to end Thor, I need to finish it.” Natan said.

Speare simply shook his head and hefted the hammer. “No.”

“How will you get him out of, what does she call herself currently, Slick?” Natan asked.

Speare paused, he had not thought that far ahead rather than just try his normal annoying ways to goad the entity to hopefully striking out and creating an opening.  The truth was Speare was more focused on keeping Sax’s husband alive so they could enjoy the weird spontaneous healing this case had inexplicably brought for him, rather than having him come even remotely close to tangling with this thing again.

A quick glance back and Zed had pulled a Batman.

From inside his coat pocket Natan pulls out a smart phone and swipes across John’s number. “MacCurtis, Sax and I need to see you at your office, 30 minutes. Someone murdered Malcolm.”

Some things Speare had not thought out on stopping, that phone call was one. 30 minutes to end game.

 


Malcolm stood dumbfounded at Speare’s question. Who had sent him to kill his former friends, and this new player in the game? It had been a phone call, but now the voice and the caller’s name were lost in a memory fog as thick as pea soup.
His mouth felt like it had cotton in it or more apro pos like how a mouth felt after leaving the dentist before the freezing had fully come out. There was throbbing behind his eyes, and a flash of pain across the bridge of his nose that went with the rhythm of the thunder rolling outside. Malcolm’s legs felt like rubber and would not move but he swayed slightly. Speare watched at this display and wondered exactly what would be possible if the large man collapsed, or worse projectile vomited as he pondered what should have essentially been an easy question to answer if he so chose: who had hired him.
The challenge though with these cases that went into the arcane and fantastical is that what should be simple could become more clouded than trying to understand a Marvel Comics relaunch or a Presidential election with Donald Trump as a candidate.
Speare focused in on the eyes of Malcolm, as they moved between red to green to yellow it appeared. “Seriously Malcolm, who sent you?”
Malcom’s left hand pinched his nose as he stumbled forward. “You need to stop asking questions was the message I was given to deliver.”
Sax let out a belly laugh. “Whomever hired you former brother Malcolm, has never met my friend Speare, for he has an insatiable curiosity of the kind that made for a bad end to the proverbial cat, even after he came back.”
Speare smirked, “What the bookseller said.”
Natan had a coughing fit that changed the momentum of the banter, but did not change whether or not the large man’s sudden on come of strange symptomology would change his ability to follow through on the threat.
“Is that a no to stop?” Malcolm asked, although his albino pigment was beginning to look almost green. Speare was more concerned with him becoming ill in such a confined space over fisticuffs at this point. Not a good thing for the hired goon of intimidation to suddenly get quick onset nausea. Speare glanced quick to one of the wooden chairs at the table that was empty, a plan formulating in his mind as Malcolm took more steps forward awaiting an answer. But they were not towards Speare specifically but rather Natan. Targeting the weakest link if you will.
A sheath of lightning crackled across the sky illuminating the darkened seat and room.
Speare moved grabbin the wooden chair. “That is a no.” Malcolm lunged as Speare swung as hard as he could with the wood chair sending it to an early career as toothpicks across the face of Malcolm. Blood and splinters on the floor. The large bald man stumbled back, not down. But dazed with a jagged cut across his nose bridge, eyes beginning to swell a little, blood trickling from the mouth and nose.
A quick left jab finished the nose with a loud crack Speare’s face tore the cartilage of Malcolm sending blood pouring and his eyes popping, but a large right hand swatted Speare up and down through the table. Sax rolled out of the way as a half blind now angry Malcolm swung for his head.
The large thug brought both his large ham hocks together to form a solid axe swing over the stunned and laying in the remains of the table Speare. His knuckles brushed the stucco from the ceiling as he swung them back…
When the oxygen tank squarely hit him in the right temple.
Malcolm’s fists dropped to his side. His eye lids fluttered, slowly his legs collapsed upon themselves as he crumpled to the ground.
Natan stood regally as he lowered the tank down. Slowly took off the oxygen hose and looked at his lover Sax as he offered and outstretched hand to Speare. Speare took the aid in getting up looking rather shocked at the development. “Don’t you…”
“I did, but not anymore. The Entity we knew as Thor…no the entity we knew as John MacCurtis is back. It is time to finish this.”
With the final work a shot of lightning burst through the wall and Sax watched as it landed squarely in the top of Malcolm’s head shooting through the large mans’ body and out his feet. Slowly burning the man from the inside out. The clothes on his back erupt as it was not a usual lighting strike, a message scarified on his back.
Death will find you.

Chapter Eight

Posted: September 23, 2016 by Ty in Speare 3: Thor v. Zeus
Tags: , , , ,

Speare had always admitted (usually only to himself) that he had seen some pretty messed up shit in his life and cases, but nothing had prepared him for what happened when the large albino fist slammed into the back of the red skinned son of Satan’s head sending him reeling across the room.
Sax moved to his fallen lover’s side, but the form that stepped through the doorway was larger than the average thug that came to beat the snot out of Speare during a case. He was Hulkish in his sizing, bald and dressed like… “Why do you look like my accountant?”
“Sorry, I got transferred to the CRA after I left the Martyrs.” The thug like man said.
Sax aided Natan up to a chair and adjusted his oxygen hose. His eyes glared into the intruder’s, well technically from a crouch and with the height differential, possibly belt buckle if he was lucky. “Malcolm.”
The tenuitious silence was broken by a lot of coughing and chest rattling from Natan as the oxygen refilled his lungs. If it wasn’t so weird and wondering if this current member of the Canadian Revenue Agency was going to kill someone, this scene could be as hoaky as a death scene from Scream Queens.
“As I was saying before this overstuffed jabroni with the nasty bowtie and sweater vest smoked me upside the head.” Natan winked at Sax as he looked up from the chair at his former teammate. “Reesa was not her first name it was…”
“Jacqueline.” Malcolm finished Natan’s sentence.
Speare nodded. Things were taking a sideways turn especially since he had just learned Jake “Shades” Slick, best hitter on the Martyrs and the Prophets and for the Agency (not to mention whomever else could foot the invoice) never reproduced. Which left the question as to who was the mayor’s hired body guard.
“So who the hell is Slick?” Sax asked what was on everyone’s mind, for Reesa was dead.
Natan slipped his hand into Sax’s as he spoke. Malcolm glowered at Speare. “You can speak freely in front of him, Malcolm. He’s a good guy.” Sax said.
Rumbling in the sky, it was starting to feel like an old noir novel, possibly a Chandleresque outing, but Speare was always partial to Ellery Queen, most notably in the television show where the author turned character would break the fourth wall and speak directly to the audience before the big reveal.
Malcolm leaned against a counter, folded his arms across his chest and let out a hrumph. Lightning illuminated the room. As Speare decided to take his shot at being Queen. “Let’s see what we know. The original Thor entity took a hold of a young John MacCurtis and aged the bastard, he then used this new found power to found a secret black ops crew dubbed the Martyrs. As far as I can tell y’all had no families and he used Supra’s would either not survive the trials or if they did be so fubarred it wouldn’t matter.” The three nodded, so far the, no one was to clear on the actual job title Speare used was, but he was on target. “It all came to a head in a bunker under Balzac. One heckuva fire fight, that led into an even more invasive exorcism on the borderlands that ripped Thor out of MacCurtis, and sadly left Natan as he is now.” Speare exhaled slowly, and contemplated if he should take up drinking with the words coming out of his mouth.
“But here’s the hitch, the entity did not leave MacCurtis alone. Somehow the entity has a hold and led to the murder of a woman named Reesa, and the exorcism of a bloke named Daemon in the foresaid Bunker. Yet MacCurtis under fear of assassination has brought in his own shooter who is supposed to be the legendary Shades’ daughter, only not, and it is starting to look more and more like this shooter is actually the dead woman that started all this.” Speare finished with a question.
“Who sent you here to kill us, Malcolm.”


The air felt like it crackled around them. Another mysterious body, thunder rumbled over her. Speare looked at John, “who exorcised Thor from you?”

“Natan.” John said.

Slick dropped Speare off at the bookstore and was heading back to MacCurtis’ off  at his home or office. But the last thing said before leaving the bunker as the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) and CSIS arrived to take over with the new discovery was still a knuckleball that Speare was not expecting.

His friend’s spouse. He was the one that had performed the exorcism of the entity.

More thunder, soon the rain would start again. The shop still had five minutes before it closed. The cute wind chime that signalled the door opening.  Sax looked up while stocking a display of Prime Minister memoirs: Pearson, Clark, Trudeau Senior, Trudeau Junior, Martin, Diefenbaker and Harper.

Speare wonders how many of those Prime Ministers knew about the Prophets, who whether as a Member of Parliament, or Prime Minister condoned the Martyrs program. How far down this rabbit hole would these murders lead?

“Speare welcome back.”

“Yeah, that bunker was…” Speare searched for a word, knowing at one point in his life he no longer talked about Sax had lived there, was he there in the final fire fight.

“A shit hole.  I know, I did not mind locking that door the final time and walking back into civilian life. Veterans Affairs gave us both a good package.” Sax motions his head around the shop, the investment after buy out. “They took care of Natan.”

The last line was lower, Speare realized he had been friends with Sax so long yet had never actually met his spouse. Natan was a name spoken of with care, compassion and love but was a mystery.

“What happened that day of the lock down?”

Sax walked from the display, turned the sign to close and turned the deadbolt, he flipped the main lights off so security lighting took over and motioned Speare to follow him to the back office. There was a nice oak roll top that Sax had there, and a sitting area that looked light it fit into a tea room reconciliation sacrament in newer Roman Catholic Churches.

Speare glided into his chair, expecting a kettle to be plugged in, but in the bottom drawer of the roll top Sax pulls out a bottle of Glendfiddich, and two tumblers he brings them over to the chairs. Speare attempts to wave of the golden liquid, but Sax pours two drinks.

The bookseller takes a sip and looks at his friend. “I hated that this day would come.”

“Sax you have been a Jiminy Crickett like light to my life, what are you hiding?” Speare takes a sip to make his friend comfortable, he can feel the demons already emanating from behind his eyes.

Sax contemplates for a moment. Downs his cup, pours another and then contemplatively stares into the liquid like one doing a tea meditation. “I am not now or have I ever been a Supra. I was a street kid with a knack for the impossible.” Sax pauses many times as he tells more of his story. In moments that didn’t fit Speare could tell he was fighting tears.  Obviously the ending of the time with the Martyrs was not that heroic in his friend’s estimation. “I picked up a good use of the long bow, and took many lives much to my eternal soul state. What happened though that day…that was beyond crazy. Our bunker was discovered and we were hit hard by…Frost Giants, at least that was the short hand we used for them, huge ass alien buggars interbred with Supra’s on earth. Tore through the bunker like a shredder through paper.”

Speare could only picture the thoughts, these young adults who had done horrific things, seen horrific things suddenly in a ground zero in the one place they were supposed to be safe.  “But Speare we won, until the last bastard shot something square into our illustrious now Mayor’s third eye and then shit got real.”

What Sax described next was a literal battle through Hell and that is what tore the bunker apart. “Daemon was unconscious, so was Reesa. Malcolm was our big guns with Grizz…then Natan and me.  Malcolm was knocked out and then he…” Speare just waited, as Sax drained his second scotch and poured a third.  “Grizz was ripped in half, I can still taste his blood it hit my mouth which was open at the shock.” MacCurtis had not told Speare that he had killed the one member who had died, was that simply left out so history remembered this man better, or after the exorcism had he no memory of it and no one bothered to inform him? A why poke the sleeping bear (yes a bad pun since Grizz was part bear, part man).

But the silence was the heavy lifting necessary as Sax placed his third scotch down on the table after only a sip. He was shaking, trying to calm his nerves. “I fired at him, the very skin on his body was straining, like a t-shirt the owner of was to big for. His face was distorting. I emptied a quiver of arrows into him and he kept coming.  Then Natan.”

“Natan, your spouse.”

Sax smiled, he visibly relaxed. “My saviour, saved my ass and in that moment we were only shagging or at most a few dates in, nothing serious.  But MacCurtis was going to hug my throat if you will, but Natan stepped between us.”

What Sax described did not seem extraterrestrial or Supra related, but rather Super Natural.

“That’s where the government was wrong. Thor was not the alien entity behind the Martyrs. The entity had trapped Thor’s spirit before it could go to Valhalla. Natan shattered the prison, it was a demon that had created the Martyrs—a spirit of the Nephilim if you will. Natan infused with Thor’s spirit took the Nephilim possessed MacCurtis to the boarder of Valhalla in the midst of the bunker.”

Speare could not believe the mythological references spoken of as truth. This was a crazy moment that no one knew about, except the government sealed the bunker and covered it up. Although the general public would have no idea how to process this type of event.

“I need to speak with Natan about what happened in Valhalla’s borderland.”

“No you don’t Speare.” Sax drained his third scotch and poured a fourth. Tears were moving down his cheeks at this time. “He never talks about it, but he brought a 30 year younger MacCurtis back who was air vacced out to a hospital unconscious.”

“S.T.A.R.S took Natan too?”

Sax nodded, as he shot half his glass. “His body was burned, his hair was splotchy, an eye was missing, his ears were cauliflowered. A beautiful red skinned man that would have been spoked of as Dorian Gray, was brutalized, his clothes were rags. A spear had severed his spine, and brimstone had literally burnt his lungs.”

Speare let out a low whistle and finished off his first scotch. What had happened at the exorcism?

“Natan regained consciousness, but is in a wheel chair with oxygen and…” Sax was visibly shaken. “I held him all the way back to the city hospital. He opened his eyes when my heart realized…”

“You loved him.”

Sax nodded to Speare’s disclosure. “We live simply, the V.A. took care of him, we want for nothing medically, and mentally his mind is coming back together. But what you ask Speare, I can’t.” Sax said.

“But I can.” The voice was raspy like a smoker’s speaking through a tube. “Ask what you want of me Speare, and I will answer.”

Speare looked up. “Natan.”