Belly of the Beast

Chapter 23

Three AM arrived like rain at a wedding, unwanted and foretelling. I was nursing an anxious knot in my stomach as Vincent and I made our way to Trinity Church. It wasn't just the thought of another visit to the vault that had me worried, I could not stop thinking about the incident before the blow job. Vincent said something had triggered his aggression, but he might as well have said disgust or hate. I wanted to blame the freaky magic, but my head kept taking me down darker paths.

Outside the church, we met up with Colin and Claudette. They introduced me to Glade, who I expected to be a wizened old woman with gray hair and half-moon spectacles. But she wasn't old at all. Probably no older than me, with purple highlights tipping her cropped, bleached hair and ear gauges the size of quarters. I fell under her scrutiny right away.

"You carry the magic," she said accusingly. "How do you feel? More powerful? Less powerful? Are you ill?"

"Other than a little nervous about this trip underground, I feel fine."

"Have you tested the mantra? Can you still produce the flame?" Glade spoke quickly as we walked through the church to the back, guided by a man I assumed to be the bishop. He wore a robe but no fancy head gear, probably because it was three in the damned morning.

"I haven't produced the flame since the last time I was here a few weeks ago. Do you think I should practice first?"

"I think you'll be surprised by it," she said with a deadpan expression. "The magic on you is strong enough to fly us to the moon."

I glanced again at the clergyman ahead of us. Surely, he could hear the conversation. Was he scared out of his wits? I was.

"Don't worry, Reese," Colin said, reminding me he was among our party. "We've got your back. This'll be a piece of cake."

"That has to be the famous last words of some baker whose oven blew up right after his grand opening." I offered him a weak smile, and he tried to reassure me by chuckling at my morbid humor.

"Vincent, what have you noticed different about Reese lately?" Glade asked, still keeping me under her careful surveillance.

"She's been running hot to the touch even when she says she's fine and the thermometer tells us the same. Our kisses burn. And other amorous activities have become...uncomfortable. I can take a lot of pain, but this..."

We arrived at the font, and Vincent excused himself to speak with the bishop in private. He seemed glad to end the conversation, but this gave Glade the opportunity to dissect me even further.

"You're fighting him with fire," she said plainly. "These fevers are a manifestation of your inherited survival response. The magic has attached to your demon aspects and amplified them. You can't feel it because it has always been a part of you."

I blinked a few times and glanced over at Colin and Claudette, who both responded with a confused shoulder shrug. "Are you saying my body is trying to hurt Vincent without my consent?" I said.

"Yes. Necromantic magic focuses on the manipulation of external forces. There are many ways it can manifest. It is using your gift of the eternal flame and turning it into a weapon."

"How can I stop it?"

"You can't. Not by yourself. That's why we're here." She pointed at the font, which held a small statue of a saint holding a basket of wheat. I still didn't know which saint it was.

Vincent returned, minus the bishop. "We're good to go. How are you feeling, Reese?"

"I'm ready to get this thing over with."

Glade produced a pair of yellow rubber gloves and held them out to me. They looked like regular household gloves. "These are just household gloves, but I've blessed them enough times to protect you until the next ice age. Wear them when you pick up the book. They should keep the bad juju off you."