Bannick removed his hat as they entered. He held it lightly as they made their way along the white and gray marble halls of the Temple. Morning light cast a golden glow through the open archways and rainbows of light where it struck stained glass.
Eventually, they reached the Hall of Angels, so called because the leaders of the Priesthood had taken the names of angels when they had taken their positions. As a blood priest, Bannick reported directly to Father Gabriel, who was in charge of all field priests. Beneath him were supervisors for each of the other levels of field priest—blue, green, violet, gray, black. Only the blood priests reported directly to Gabriel, and only the Angels and above could dispatch them.
Bannick knocked on Gabriel's door, then pushed it open as Gabriel bid them enter.
"Ah, Bannick," Gabriel said, looking up over the edge of his gold-rimmed reading glasses. "Mr. Underwood." He set aside the papers he'd been reading, placing his glasses on top of them. His eyes were sharp, clear—and completely yellow.
The highest bodies of the government, from the Crown down to the top leaders of every major branch of government—known as the Major Arcana—were all demon-fused. They had been that way for as long as anyone could remember; some liked to say they were the very same persons who united the country and brought peace. The Crown itself, actually two men and one woman collectively known as The Crown—were said to have been demon-fused for so long they had forgotten what it was like to be human.
It wasn't true of course, and precious few people actually realized that the upper echelons of the Crown were all demon-fused. Being ruling bodies of the Major Arcana, the three Angels of the Temple were demon-fused—and extremely powerful. It was a power they shared with their priests, however; they were the primary providers of the demon blood drunk by the blood priests.
"So tell me of the dire demon," Gabriel said, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands in his lap. Bannick started, relating every last detail of the case from the moment of his arrival. Ezell took over at points, until at last there was nothing left to say. Gabriel said nothing as they finished, but watched them pensively, obviously turning something over and over in his mind. Finally, he looked at Ezell, yellow eyes shimmering. "How do you fair, Childe?"
"We are fine," Ezell replied.
Laughing, Gabriel said, "You have a long way to go, Childe, but I concur. You seem more merged already, though I saw you only a couple of weeks ago. That is excellent progress."
Ezell said nothing, but his withering look did not require words.
Gabriel chuckled and sat forward in his seat, settling his hands on his desk. "As Ezell can attest, dires are becoming more and more of a problem. As you can attest, Exorcist, so is high magic. History syndrome, we fear."
Bannick grunted. The Crown had not been in power very long—just past seventy five years now. Not long at all, but long enough that people had already largely forgotten the dark days, when magic had been out of control, when violent, angry demons, summoned by mages who didn't know how to control what they'd brought forth, had killed just for sport,. Dires, black magic—life eighty years ago had been a true living nightmare. All attempts at controlling it had failed until the Crown had come along.
It was all history now, though. People didn't remember those days, appreciate why certain things had been restricted or outlawed entirely. They forgot all the reasons they shouldn't play with fire, shouldn't want to play with it. They decided the government was being harsh just for fun, that the danger wasn't real , and then they created problems they couldn't fix. People grew complacent, forgot the terror—it was all in the past, after all. History syndrome.
"The work of the Priests is getting more and more dangerous, and the increase in danger and complexity of the problems is keeping more
Eventually, they reached the Hall of Angels, so called because the leaders of the Priesthood had taken the names of angels when they had taken their positions. As a blood priest, Bannick reported directly to Father Gabriel, who was in charge of all field priests. Beneath him were supervisors for each of the other levels of field priest—blue, green, violet, gray, black. Only the blood priests reported directly to Gabriel, and only the Angels and above could dispatch them.
Bannick knocked on Gabriel's door, then pushed it open as Gabriel bid them enter.
"Ah, Bannick," Gabriel said, looking up over the edge of his gold-rimmed reading glasses. "Mr. Underwood." He set aside the papers he'd been reading, placing his glasses on top of them. His eyes were sharp, clear—and completely yellow.
The highest bodies of the government, from the Crown down to the top leaders of every major branch of government—known as the Major Arcana—were all demon-fused. They had been that way for as long as anyone could remember; some liked to say they were the very same persons who united the country and brought peace. The Crown itself, actually two men and one woman collectively known as The Crown—were said to have been demon-fused for so long they had forgotten what it was like to be human.
It wasn't true of course, and precious few people actually realized that the upper echelons of the Crown were all demon-fused. Being ruling bodies of the Major Arcana, the three Angels of the Temple were demon-fused—and extremely powerful. It was a power they shared with their priests, however; they were the primary providers of the demon blood drunk by the blood priests.
"So tell me of the dire demon," Gabriel said, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands in his lap. Bannick started, relating every last detail of the case from the moment of his arrival. Ezell took over at points, until at last there was nothing left to say. Gabriel said nothing as they finished, but watched them pensively, obviously turning something over and over in his mind. Finally, he looked at Ezell, yellow eyes shimmering. "How do you fair, Childe?"
"We are fine," Ezell replied.
Laughing, Gabriel said, "You have a long way to go, Childe, but I concur. You seem more merged already, though I saw you only a couple of weeks ago. That is excellent progress."
Ezell said nothing, but his withering look did not require words.
Gabriel chuckled and sat forward in his seat, settling his hands on his desk. "As Ezell can attest, dires are becoming more and more of a problem. As you can attest, Exorcist, so is high magic. History syndrome, we fear."
Bannick grunted. The Crown had not been in power very long—just past seventy five years now. Not long at all, but long enough that people had already largely forgotten the dark days, when magic had been out of control, when violent, angry demons, summoned by mages who didn't know how to control what they'd brought forth, had killed just for sport,. Dires, black magic—life eighty years ago had been a true living nightmare. All attempts at controlling it had failed until the Crown had come along.
It was all history now, though. People didn't remember those days, appreciate why certain things had been restricted or outlawed entirely. They forgot all the reasons they shouldn't play with fire, shouldn't want to play with it. They decided the government was being harsh just for fun, that the danger wasn't real , and then they created problems they couldn't fix. People grew complacent, forgot the terror—it was all in the past, after all. History syndrome.
"The work of the Priests is getting more and more dangerous, and the increase in danger and complexity of the problems is keeping more
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