Sympathy for the Devil - Reader X Ghost - Nameless Ghouls & Papa

Ch 23 - Loyalties

Each heavy-footed step took me closer to my destination, but I felt more lost by the second.

Still smouldering from my unexpected meeting with Cardinal Copia, I had driven all night to the only friend I had left. Ditching my car at the side of the road, I started a long trek into the woods to find the Ghuleh's hidden cottage.

Perhaps we'd find solace in one another, two servants cast aside for another.

Humid waves of pine-enriched air brushed over my face. Sodden layers of thick moss caused a subtle bounce in my step. The irony was not lost on me.

Rage had worn away, and now all I was left with was shame.

Did the Cardinal take me for a fool? Did he really think I'd stroll back to the ministry with him? After everything?

The church had made it abundantly clear that all Satanic workers of non-human origin were no longer needed. Although I technically was human, Satan had bought me back from hell. My second life was deemed unnatural - which was odd for a religion that focused so heavily on the occult.

In my anger, I didn't have time to pick apart the short exchange between myself and Cardinal Copia whilst driving, but the silence of the woods surrounding me offered a refreshing sense of clarity. Replacing the sound of my static-obscured car radio with the blissful backdrop of tweeting birds, I finally felt as if I could breathe again.

Fresh air filled my lungs. A hint of patchouli and sage travelled on the wind.

I was getting closer.

The Ghuleh may not have had the answers I needed, but she'd certainly be much better company than anyone from the clergy.

Yet, as I followed the herbal-scented trail to her cottage, I felt as if I was saying goodbye to unfinished business.

The papas were still missing. Ghost was in shambles. My ghoulish friends were still in hiding.

But where was I more likely to find the truth?

With the Cardinal? A man who feigned inexperience and immaturity to move in the dark.

Or with the Ghuleh? A trusted confidante of many years who shared my pain in exclusion.

Wisps of patchouli became stronger, like the strobes of golden sunlight rising between the trees. Morning called. I marched forward, letting my mind mull over the possibilities. By now, I had lost the reflex of wondering how Satan would advise me and tried to reconnect with my own intuition. Paranoia had certainly left that in shambles.

As I trudged over the uneven land, I gripped ageing tree bark for support. Rough edges buffed against my bare hands. Those woodland giants knew nothing of mortality, worshipping only the warming sun above and the rich soil below. How blissful it must be to live and thrive without knowledge of little else. My head tipped upwards, taking a moment to admire the stretching branches above me. Each offshoot swayed on the breeze, soaking up the light from above. In between their dance, glittering flecks of sunlight reached my face peppering my skin with warm kisses.

Welcome distraction from the lingering pain of betrayal.

Patchouli waves captured my attention once more. This time, much stronger. Looking over to the horizon, I could just about make out the ramshackle thatched roof of the Ghuleh's cottage. Sanctuary was within reach.

Continuing my approach, an unexpected cool breeze tickled the back of my arms. Hairs stood on edge. There was little to regret about leaving that filthy motel room, but I cursed myself for not grabbing a coat on my way out. Those uncomfortable chills gave me even more reason to pick up the pace and warm up against the perpetually boiling pots, rattling away on the Ghuleh's stove.