Fury

The young priest and Father Moritz led us down a dark, musty hallway that assaulted our senses with the pungent smell of mothballs, incense, and mold. I tried to convince Maxine to return to the RMP for the sake of her fledgling career, but she remained resolute in her refusal.

"I get it," I whispered into her ear. "You're going to stop me from going overboard."

Max's smile was slight, but her eyes narrowed to a pinpoint as she locked onto mine like magnets. But before she could speak, I nodded.

"Here's the thing, Max. If I drown, I drown."

As I broke off our eye contact, Maxine remained silent. However, I was happy she was here and let her know by holding her hand. Despite its brevity and my avoidance of eye contact, I sensed her concern and reluctance to release me from my constraints.

"Please, my corporal, there is no need to drown or to tread in the waters of discomposure," said Moritz.

That he heard my whisper did more than piss me off, it worried me. His remark was a deliberate attempt to tempt my self-control, highlighting his acute sense of hearing. It seemed like this was all part of a game he was playing as if my previous dream was just a prelude to what he wanted me to witness.

Whether he was a killer remained undisclosed, but he was sick, and nobody had uncovered his sins. I hoped to remedy this.

They led us to a backroom office, but I turned toward the young priest before entering. Maxine knew what I'd say and, for some reason, pitied him.

"Father," she said with a sweet voice. "This is an official interview, so we'd appreciate your patience in allowing us the privacy to do our jobs."

"And that," said Moritz, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. His voice was pleasant and echoed in the small room. "That's what sets Officer McMenamin apart—her uniqueness. She possesses a captivating aura, radiating comfort and kindness, which enchants not only the eye but also the spirit." Moritz smiled, his eyes squinting. "Yes. Her spirit has a sweetness that rivals that of honey and molasses."

With my fists clenched above my belt buckle, I rolled my shoulders back and fixed a fierce gaze on Moritz. Maxine kept his provocation in check. I realized that I couldn't act the way I wanted to in front of her out of respect.

Moritz swaggered to the desk, pulled out the wooden chair, and sat. His posture, though relaxed, showed the first signs of discomfort. A quick and gentle brush of his collar became a smirk, and a self-satisfied smile played on his lips. He clapped his hands, taking pride in his cockiness.

Pride goes before the fall, asshole.

The desk, just like the office, lacked any sense of personality or decoration. The room had white walls, and the sole decoration was a picture of the Virgin Mary. Two minimalist black leather chairs with tarnished aluminum feet complemented the do-it-yourself assembled fibreboard desk.

"It is indeed so good to see mon couple préféré. Although your entrance was abrupt and intrusive." Moritz looked at me with eyes originally blue, now fired with amber. He rested back on the flexing chair, showing his mouth in a widened grin. "For that, my young corporal, you owe me four Our Fathers and six-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, Father. I disturbed the loonie bin."

I stepped forward and leaned on the desktop, waiting for him to react. At first, he leaned with his elbows on the desk's edge to challenge me. His bravado and need to dominate showed as his lips, though still crafted in a smile, began to tighten. He refused to retreat, so I leaned in further.

"So, Father," said Max. Her voice broke his stare, returning his eyes to their original color. Sitting back in the chair, he folded his hands on the desktop and I stood upright.

"What do you know about Hillary Durkin?" I snapped. "Last night, she took a final stretch from a pine tree in Haley's woods."

"Tragic, I'm sure," he said and frowned. Moritz didn't skip a beat. His immediate reaction seemed rehearsed. "The weight of confessions constantly surrounds me, as people rely on me for their absolution. I'm not one to keep tabs on such things. "

Max and I were still, but only for a moment. With a gentle clearing of her throat, she spoke in a sweet and melodic tone.

"Father," said Max.

His immediate reaction was evident through the widening of his eyes. When he turned towards her, the sight of his smile erased any traces of the fake frown he had worn moments before. As I observed him, I couldn't help but notice his eyes glisten with a prominent blue hue. It was as if her voice was the only sound he craved.

Max reached behind her head and tugged at her ponytail. She released the black elastic band, and her hair cascaded down to her shoulders, swaying as she flung her head from side to side.

Then, with the band secure in her front teeth, she wrapped it back into her fist, pulled it tight, and secured it.

Throughout the entire process, Moritz followed her movements with precision—almost robotic. His eyes locked on her hair swings and tugging, and his head and neck moved slightly.

Holy shit, she disarmed him.

"Hillary's mom stated that she came to see you for confession," said Max. "And although we didn't see a suicide letter, Mrs. Durkin said that you rejected her confession and refused her absolvement."

Father Moritz moved his elbows back to the table from which he withdrew. He tilted his head, drawing back his lips. He looked high to the left, going into a fantasy recall and pretending to be ignorant. He sighed through his nose and shook his head.

"Unfortunately, Officer McMenamin, I can't recall such a moment." He spoke to us, eyes darting between. "Although there are times when our prayers and powers to forgive aren't warranted. Dispensation, you see. Justice must always prevail."

I waited for an awkward moment. Max was still. Moritz sat back, his hands folded in his lap.

"Let me see if I can refresh your memory, your holiness," I snapped. "The victim is a seventeen-year-old girl. Her only sin was to play the ouija board in the asylum's basement cross town. In her initial statement, she said that she and her friends awakened some demon-spirit-thing. I don't know, Mal—Mel—Bal. Some shit like that—"

"Melech Balahot," he snapped. "Yes, I'm familiar with this spirit, and you should also be."

"You didn't answer my question, Father," I said, exaggerating his title.

His eyes widened, and the corner of his mouth drooped with a slight shoulder shrug.

"I'm not sure I heard a question, Corporal Kelly-"

"Did you hear her confession or not?"

Moritz said nothing.

"Listen," I said. "You're pissing me off right now. Stop playing freaking games with me-"

"Father, please—," said Max. Moritz interrupted.

"Rest assured, dear boy, whatever you share in confession is sacred and will never be disclosed." Ignoring Maxine, he spoke in a tone that dripped with contempt. "However, if one dared to employ these wicked vehicles to summon malevolent spirits, nocturnal demons, or those who wander the desolate realms of immorality, a toll would inevitably be demanded and must be satisfied."

I pursed my lips and sucked on my teeth and cheek. I looked at Max, whose eyes were wide, begging me to stop. Her discomfort was palpable, as was the wringing of her hands and the slight sway of her hips.

Moritz's countenance had recovered, and he relaxed back into his chair, clasping hands in his lap.

"It is sad that a young one would take her own life. The mentally disturbed often blame others for their choices. Perhaps, if I am being accused, we must take into consideration that this poor child had a severe emotional crisis and could easily misunderstand any council given."

Moritz and I glared at each other. I wanted to go over the table and choke him. The urge to destroy and see him eaten alive from what he hid brought on flashes from my earlier premonition. They were so vivid and real that I winced.

His eyes, in a full amber glow, tightened as Max put her hand on my shoulder. She walked behind me and took my bicep, leveraging me to leave.

"Thank you for your time, Father," she said. His stare made haste, the orange vanishing with the sound of her voice. He stood in haste, smiling and pleasant, and reached for Max's hand with his.

She reached out, leaving my arm. Moritz stepped from behind the desk and surrounded her fingers with both hands.

"My dearest Maxine, it is always a pleasure. You must come by one day for tea. I'd love to know more about this sweet and precious young lady who stands before me."

My mind flashed once again, but not with the images of slaughtered bodies and the dead. I saw fresh fallen snow, flames, and a red-haired woman. Wicked men steeped in ambition surrounded her as she burned at the stake. And then I remembered.

"Father, before we go," I said. My back to him, I spoke over my shoulder. Seeing his face or hearing a reply wasn't necessary. "I read something recently. Actually, it was the day Max came back from her injury." I stood in the doorway as Maxine walked by me. "Watch him," I lipped as she nodded.

"The November Witch foretold you're coming and forbade me to touch or soil your body. So no, unrequited, I will admire you from afar and offer peace to you."

And there it was—the silence so loud it deafened. When dealing with a man so emotionally corrupted and depraved, the silence was as palpable as the touch of a lover. However, not in an exotic or erotic way. In this case, the fury—the hidden breaths of rage and the greedy teeth- hid behind the good priest's smile.

"Huh," I said.

Max and I stepped into the hallway, making our way to the sanctuary. The smells of incense, mothballs, and mold had returned, but our exit differed from our entrance.

I slowed so that Max could stand beside me.

"How'd he react?" I said. Max shook her head, mouth open, and eyes alive.

"How did you remember?"

"Just tell me, sweetheart. How did he react?"

Max exhaled from exasperation. She shook her head, her hands waving before her chest. She looked into my eyes, took my arm, and stopped.

Her face turned pale, her ears drew back, and her breaths became shallow. I looked down the hall to see Father Moritz standing in the doorway, staring at us.

"Fury," she said. "Absolute fury."