Sulfur & Tealights

The Catholic, the Protestant, and the Toad

Samael Spittal did not fit his demographic. Whereas most alphas bordered six feet, he was more like a teacup: short at five feet and five inches tall, and stout, with a good portion of his weight emphasizing his gut. Silver-rimmed glasses sat atop a button nose, while a number three buzz cut complimented a diamond shaped face. The man always dressed business casual; that afternoon it was pale chinos, a white Oxford dress shirt, and a navy blue knit tie. In the pocket of his button-up, he carried a brown cover compact Bible. However, it was not currently in his pocket.

Thick fingers held it in front of him, as if the Word of God was his only shield against some unseen, unspeakable evil. Beady, brown eyes narrowed, and his face grew blotchy red as his thin lips moved in prayer.

A few feet away, a toad croaked innocently.

"Reverend Spittal, what are you doing?"

The French accent that addressed him briefly distracted his attention. Though a faint breeze fluttered past him, he almost missed the warning of eucalyptus, focused as he was.

"Do you not feel the devil?" the Reverend asked harshly before returning to prayer, eyes stuck on the greenish-grey, bumpy-skinned amphibian.

"Has our Lord not left us with the same gifts?"

The calmness in the younger man's voice irked him to no end, but the pink hand that pushed his Bible down soured his mood impossibly more. He scowled as he finally faced the priest, who looked down at him with his trademark serene expression despite the powerful evil they both sensed only a few feet away.

No Christian had the right to fear anything but their Lord. What Samael felt was certainly not fear, but righteous anger, for no demon had the right to walk upon the Lord's earth. Gabriel, however, was Catholic, not Christian. He possessed an insulting amount of impudence to look at a powerful enemy without cowering.

Just as he opened his mouth to allow a sharp rebuke roll off his tongue, the fair-skinned man began with a melodic voice, "Prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Gabriel continued for a time. When he finished, the toad croaked and hopped away.

"His power is curbed, for now. He will do no harm," the priest claimed.

Spittal bit back a remark and snorted. "I should have stomped on it before it ran."

"More like hopped away," the older man knew he said that just to bother him, "and it would not have let you."

What possessed him to rent a hotel room with this hypocrite? They both knew his past. Just because he studied in France did not give him the right to insult him like this! And his pale, freckled face was still unmarked by years of stressful experience with the dark forces at work in society. A thick head of red hair unsubjected to graying framed youthful slate blue eyes. Gabriel was decades too young to correct him.

"I have years more experience with the Lord's work, and never have I affiliated myself with malevolent groups. If that spirit would have listened to anyone, it would be me," he said slowly.

His partner's expression faltered. Satisfaction soothed him until Gabriel's reply brought it crashing down.

"Never pride yourself on being better than you really are, but think of yourself dispassionately, recognizing that God has given to each one his measure of faith. Our gifts come not from within ourselves, but from God."

The smile returned. "Take care, Reverend. I am going back to our apartment."

The black-clad priest walked away. Spittal's nose twitched. His anger covered up the acknowledgement that the man, who did not even wear a cassock, was right.

No. No, he was not. Samael was a humble man who came to Louisiana to do his Lord's bidding, not stew in anger over what some insolent brat who dated an ungodly woman said. 

Regarding said woman, he could only hope she learned her lesson. She was always a stubborn child. He felt little desire to see her again, but God had plans for her, and he was no one to defy his Lord's will. After five years of tough love, perhaps her phase had passed and she learned to separate herself from the world.