Devil at the Vatican (BL)

Chapter 37

Marcel's eyes slowly drifted open to the image of a small candle in a dark room. He reached for it but found his arms heavy and sore. A groan rose as he used great effort to turn his head and gaze around the room. Someone sat in a chair in the corner with a Bible open on their lap and their head leaned forward slumber.

"Elio?" Marcel called, finding his voice incredibly hoarse.

The person roused from his voice and hurried to his bedside. Not Elio. It was Father Nazaret with his light terra-cotta complexion and skin that rivaled the smoothness of pottery. He was the same age as Marcel and they had undergone early exorcism training together, but Nazaret handled the administration side as he had a weaker institution for evil. 

"Naz--"

"Don't try to speak just yet," the other priest said as he grabbed a small cup of water from the end table. He lifted Marcel's head and fed this to him, which the priest drank down entirely. "That better?"

"Much," Marcel said, his voice clearer. "Where am I?"

"Home. Forgive the darkness. You've been asleep for two weeks." Nazaret took the candle and walked it around the small room, showing Marcel his oak wardrobe, small chest of drawers, and the artwork he was so fond of—landscapes and his favorite saints. The portrait of the Pope and a crucifix were stationed just above his bed. Even though this was home, he rarely stayed here, so recognizing the place took a minute.

"Where is Elio?"

Nazaret sat on the side of the bed and returned the candle to the end table. "The demon Jonah and his vessel are where they should be. You needn't worry about him. You have larger problems."

"Don't speak like that," Marcel warned. "Elio is one of God's flock, same as you and I."

"Is that you talking or the pact you made with Jonah?"

Marcel looked away, clenching his jaw. 

"We broke it. Your pact." Nazaret stood and went over to the single window in the room, opening the drapes to peer out into the night. Distant street lanterns left a soft glow on Nazaret's face, emphasizing the cleft in his chin and straightness of his nose. "There is a relic here of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque of the 12 Promises. It can cut through any pact made with the Devil as long as it was made with a selfless spirit."

Marcel slowly placed a hand on his chest, feeling the ribbon around his heart gone. Relief flooded him, until he felt something else on his chest. Panic burst through him as he pulled up his shirt with newfound energy, revealing his gauze-wrapped chest speckled with blood. 

"Speaking of relics... That is what should bring you worry, Marcellinus."

"The Crosses of St. James the Greater..."

"Removed," Nazaret finished, turning to face him. "Jonah's vessel told us that the crosses ignited when you saved him from a water witch's ghost. They were burning you so the doctor at Anguillara Sabazia removed them after he patched your side up."

"It is true," Marcel said. "I accessed too much."

"We both know that no ordinary doctor could remove the Crosses of St. James."

Marcel considered this, then collapsed back on the bed. "Or an ordinary doctor could remove them, but under unorthodox circumstances."

"Precisely, Marcellinus." Nazaret sat on the bed again and grabbed his hand. "There are eleven of you Pueri Maledicti exorcists. You are the ninth one to come here with your holy binds removed or damaged." This grabbed Marcel's attention.