"...they have tagged along behind me to Sasha City and unleashed a devil's emissary against me. It's my first time seeing a monster like that... "
At this point in his speech, Joe's eyes overflowed with genuine horror. Little did he fear an exotic beast. Clayton had confirmed, with his shots, that a monster was vulnerable to a firearm as well. But the overlapping of a monster and a human had terrified him.
It felt like stuffing a human's soul into an ox or a sheep, conveying an evil sense of sacrilege...
The mere thought of the eagle-bodied demoness's face would throttle Joe...
"Be relaxed, my son, tell me what you have encountered."
His tone unhurried, Petri dropped to one of his knees and brought the sword-cross pendant to Joe's forehead, as his warm voice wafted in Joe's ears.
"The Heavenly Father's light will purge the evil from you, so no need to worry."
"I saw a harpy, as described in legends..."
The warmth seeping outward on Joe's forehead floated his soul up to the sky, though his body remained motionless. The drifting feeling made him inclined to pour out all he knew, but something heavy promptly pinned him down.
"It had been tracking me, all the way to my home, until at last I discovered it and chased it away with a pistol."
"Where do you live?"
"214, Mercy Street."
Joe had lied. After Clayton left last night, he sank the eagle-bodied demoness's carcass to the bottom of the river in the port area.
Though the river was relatively shallow, it welcomed few visitors. In the coming years, the bird wouldn't be lifted from the riverbed----a tranquil graveyard.
Back home, he swept away all the glass shards and masked the bullet hole in the wall. No one could tell that it had something to do with Clayton.
But he kept a little piece of evidence in hand.
He retrieved a bloodstained ocher-colored plume from his pocket and offered it up to the priest with both hands.
It reeked faintly. Hardly disgusted, Petri pinched it between his fingers, examined it a few seconds, then declared,
"It's just a red-backed hawk's feather, not a harpy's."
"How could it be?" Joe Mani asked, astonished. He had personally handled its carcass and concluded that no animals in nature grew body parts as grotesque.
"I saw a woman's head, and a bird's body stinking of rot, just like in legends!"
"I'm not doubting what you have seen, but telling the truth. Not only harpies grow rotten-smelling feathers." Dropping the pendant, Petri got to his feet, signaling for an attendant to open the gates for today's visitors.
"You've done an excellent job, but don't get involved further, my son. To follow through with the matter is our task."
Head raised, the confusion on Joe's face hadn't faded yet. "But things are simply too odd. Father, please tell me what's going on on earth."
"That no longer concerns you. Just return to your peaceful life. Of course, if you are still worried about your safety, you may also stay here as a volunteer. "
Joe cleared his throat. He felt like probing into the mysterious supernatural world anyway, especially thanks to the troubles it had brought him.
"I wish to receive baptism, Father!"
If he became a believer, he might well garner more knowledge, Joe believed.
Father Petri was turning around to prepare today's sermon on the dais, yet this call from behind halted his steps. This man's enthusiasm perplexed him.
He was well aware of Joe's intentions. Nonetheless, ordinary people wouldn't turn back into a swamp they had just escaped.
"To be admitted into the Church is no easy thing." He turned to instruct Joe seriously. "But if you insist, memorize the Sacred Texts first. Next week, I will arrange for a godfather to teach you about God's Grace. During the process, you may quit anytime."
"I will prove my devotion. "
Joe rose to his now numb feet, his balance slow in coming.
Father Petri had seen little of a devotee in Joe, but that never mattered to him. The world had long since been left with few true devotees.
In the midst of an illusory peace with Darkins, all national governments had centralized power at the cost of the White Church's. They had stripped the Church of vast swathes of land and curbed the development of monastic schools, partly by restricting their numbers and replacing them with public schools.
Its role in education lost, the Church had seen its followers decline generation by generation.
By now, Father Petri no longer cared about the degree of devotion. In this day and age, those baptized might not be confined to human beings as long as gold flowed into the coffer.
Once, he had personally baptized the mayor's son's pet. How devout that lovable dog!
"By the way, any plan to volunteer here a few more days?" he asked Joe. "No salary, but free Holy Communion is provided."
Joe rubbed his heat-rash-dotted face, then nodded vigorously.
"Yes!"
..........
"He is still tailing me..."
Clayton pressed down the brim of his hat in an attempt to conceal his face.
But this barely worked. His six-feet-two broad-shouldered stature, even hunched, loomed over the crowd, turning heads.
Bruno was following Clayton as part of his duty as per the commercial agreement with Mary Eata.
Even though Bruno knew well Clayton's awareness of everything, Bruno would not call it quits.
Because he had got paid by Mary Eata.
Clayton sat down at a round table draped with a pure white tablecloth, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window. He brought a cup of coffee to his lips and took a sip, then immediately dropped three sugar cubes into it in one go.
He was pondering whether to call Bruno in.
That chap, wearing a hat too, was seated on a bench across the street. While watching Clayton, he fed some crumbs to pigeons. Thinking of his risk-free, leisurely work, Clayton felt somewhat envious.
"Knock, knock."
He knuckled the window with two fingers. Unsurprisingly, Bruno detected his hint, tossing the spoiled bread on the ground. Then, he made a beeline into the coffee shop and sat down opposite Clayton.
Bruno rang the copper service bell on the table, summoning a waiter over.
"Four slices of buttered bread, two Samira sausages, a cup of hot milk. Charge it to the gentleman across from me."
Nodding, the attendant made a few marks on the menu before disappearing into the kitchen.
Clayton felt suffocated. "Why do I have to pay for my watcher's breakfast?"
"Plain and simple: you need me to turn a blind eye to something."
Pointing to his own eyes, Bruno flashed Clayton a droll smile. "Any chance Miss Eata has made a correct case? That you have done something unspeakable recently?"
"How so? I have always been a docile, good man. All her guesses are a figment of her imagination. How long have we known each other? Have you ever seen me throw a tantrum?" Clayton replied with a straight face.
But Bruno's words had indeed hit the nail on the head.
He did need Bruno to stop spying on him for a brief period.
He was about to drop in on Gilead.
Last night, Gilead gave his word that Clayton could seek him out at the Chief Constabulary by day with questions. Should Bruno's surveillance be in place by then, it might lead Gilead to misunderstand that Bruno was committing a crime endangering the public.
What's more, Bruno was no ordinary man; his senses were unusually sharp. One encounter with Gilead and Gilead's peculiarities would occur to Bruno.
"Yes. I can't remember you ever losing your temper."
Resting his chin on his hand, Bruno recalled thoughtfully before remarking, "But this makes you all the more suspicious. Anyway, you're a mid-level officer, yet without the slightest bit of temper. Perhaps there has been something conspiratorial about you."
"I wish you'd trust me a little more."
Releasing a sigh, Clayton counted out a few bills, placing them on the table. "I have to do something private, but it involves more than myself. Your rank doesn't allow you to peek into it, understand?"
"So you have gone back?" Bruno exhibited unconcealed surprise.
The way Clayton had put it suggested only one possibility-----he was working closely with the military.
After all, Clayton was among the minority who had fought on the front lines yet still received one of the mere six hundred Lauren War Distinguished Service Medals. Given his honorably recognized capabilities, it seemed hardly surprising for him to be secretly called back to the Royal Guard.
"As long as you know," Clayton said vaguely.
Back in the military, Bruno's rank, despite being more brainy, was way lower than his. Therefore, Bruno was currently dominated by a sense of reverence toward inaccessible confidential information.
Moreover, most who had been worn tattered through the front lines would not return to the military, recoiling even at the word of it.
As expected, Bruno's expression tensed up.
"How about Mary Eata? Even if I leave, she may investigate you herself."
Clayton chuckled."Rest assured. Given her eyesight..."
Bruno chuckled as well.