Nine thirty in the morning - that’s the time the airplane of Father Marcus and his secretary landed on the City of Prague. They were greeted by a chauffeur named Mr. Ocarino, who was instructed by Madame Regina to drive them to the Rogratiatto Estate.
“The estate is past the city, located in the first mountain you see in your windows gentleman. It is going to be a long ride, so please do entertain yourselves along the way, ” the driver stated in thick English, addressing the two before he drove the limousine out of the airport parking area. They nodded with this and went on to glance at each of their side’s window.
True to what the driver stated, the travel was a long one. Marcus spent amusing himself with the scenery outside, while Father Julien, as usual, went on to pray the rosary cycle. It was actually their second time visiting the city. The first was when Marcus got invited to become a speaker in a youth assembly. It was five years ago, however, so it wasn’t a surprise he was astonished to see the many changes in the city in terms of streets and stores aligned near the road.
The usual could be seen in a city that is the heart of every country. Locals and tourists were mixed, walking in the paved roads and side lanes. Busy businesses were open for customers to dine, shop, or just dally around. The city didn’t have any festivity, but people seemed to crowd in the parks more than usual.
Noticing the exorcist priest’s perplexed expression, Mr. Ocarino smiled and broke the seemingly unending silence inside the car. “The city is this abuzz Father whenever it has this kind of beautiful weather. We have quite a round of rainfall these past few days, so to have this sunshine is a fresh welcome for us.”
Marcus shifted and met the driver’s gaze on the front-view mirror.
“Ah, so that explains it, ” he stated, feeling educated in the most unexpected way. “Thank you for the information, Sir.”
The driver smiled some more and nodded. “You’re welcome, Father.”
Covering a few miles more of road, they passed by a public square that was situated at the center of a road intersection. It was of decent size, confined by a long stretch of thigh-high iron-wrought gate. Tree of different species grew inside it, landscaped together with flowering shrubs and finely-trimmed grass. At the center of the plaza, there was a tall six-tier Renaissance fountain, making the place looking grander than a common park.
Marcus watched as the car sped its way into the intersection. However, when he caught a glimpse of something tasty in his line of vision inside the plaza, he immediately called out to the driver, “Stop! Stop the car now!”
Finding it sudden, Mr. Ocarino abruptly pressed on the brake pedal and whirled to face him. Good thing that they had stopped near the sidewalk, otherwise they would have caused unexpected traffic on the road.
“Why Father? What’s the matter?” the chauffeur asked, raising a brow of confusion.
Father Julien threw a look of puzzlement on his colleague too and then said, “Is there something bothering you Father? Why do you want the car to stop?”
Marcus looked at them with a face that showed he was stone-cold serious. Clearing his throat, he pulled out a newly-exchanged Czech crown worth a hundred Euros from his personal bag’s pocket. “I need to buy something, ” was his answer to their worried query and this made Father Julien suppress a laugh consequently.
Mr. Ocarino’s brows lifted even more finding the secretary priest’s snicker confusing. He eyed the exorcist priest who was now stepping out of the car speedily and thought it odd.
“There goes the infamous Glutton Marcus, ” he heard Father Julien say as soon as the car door closed.
***
Marcus’ attention went straight to cross the pedestrian lane. It wasn’t a difficult task as there were fewer cars on the way to the other road. His loose white shirt was pressed evenly on his chest due to a sudden rush of wind when he crossed. In no way did he look like a priest with his garb, but even so, the way Marcus walked, it looked like he was showered with an aura of holiness, much like priests should be. One that differed him above all else though is his air of confidence. His broad shoulders were straight, his chin raised, and though he wasn’t cocky or arrogant, he wore a smirk on his face. This smirk was evident now as thoughts of the tasty trdelnik played on his mind.
Was there a twinkle in his eyes too? Well... yes, there was, but no passerby noticed it.
Once he entered the plaza, his direct motive was to buy the pastry he had been wanting to taste since after their first visit in Prague years ago. A food stall just a few feet away from the center fountain sells it and this was where he was heading to without a second thought.
There were just a few people near and around the fountain when he reached it. One man was holding a dozen of colorful balloons, selling them to any visitor. There were children playing in one corner and in the other, some teenagers texting. Numerous benches were located alongside the cobblestone pathways; some were vacated and the others were taken.
Marcus, before nearing the food stall, noticed a brief flash of light some distance away from him. He disregarded it, but momentarily caught sight of the photographer. It was a woman with her hand holding a professional camera, engrossed with her current subject - the man holding the balloons.
“Ahoj! Pane, osm rohlíky prosím, ” (“Mister, eight rolls please.“) Marcus stated to the middle-aged vendor when he arrived in the stall, his Czech accent tightening with his words. It was his meager attempt to converse using the foreign language he had little knowledge of, but the vendor understood it at least, smiling as he attended to the priest’s order. Marcus eyed the freshly-cooked rolls of pastry hang in an open flame of oven and his mouth watered in reaction. He had missed the taste of the caramelized coating of the pastry and he was longing like a child to experience it again.
After putting the rolls inside the brown paper bag, the vendor handed it to him. “Tady to je, ” (“Here it is.“) he said with a smile again, “U?ívat si.” (“Enjoy.“)
“Ano dÄ›kuji, ” (“Yes, thank you.“) Marcus replied before stepping away from the stall, cradling the bag in one arm.
Unable to wait, he took out a small piece and shoved it in his mouth. It was an unceremonious manner, but he cared less of who would catch a look at it. He wasn’t worried about any judgmental eyes, none at all, except for a small young child that is - a girl of about nine-years-old who gazed at him with much anticipation in her rounded blues.
“Dear child, are you by any chance lost?” Marcus asked, observing her and studying if she can understand what he was saying. By the look on the child’s face, however, it seemed like it wasn’t the case. The girl continued to look at him, but Marcus noticed that her eyes were shifting intently on the bag full of rolls. Watching the area around them, he realized that the child might be a beggar, considering there was no parent or guardian together with her. Marcus managed a warm smile, remembering himself young once, then took two pastries out of the bag without hesitation.
“Here take this little one, ” he stated, stooping low to hand the gift to the angelic child. This made the girl’s eyes lit up and gave a toothy smile. As she swiped the rolls from Marcus’ hand, a flash of light appeared a few feet away from them. This caught Marcus’ attention and went to glance at the source. It was the photographer earlier, with the same camera in hand. Just in time, the woman turned her back focusing on another subject for her camera’s lens, acting the way most professional photographers do - keenly observant, but detached on the real world.
Marcus shrugged the event out of his mind and turned back his attention on the little girl, but he found her already skipping steps away from him, biting the dough in mouthfuls. He smiled, finding her attitude carefree.
Father Julien’s sudden appearance in one pathway made Marcus raise a brow. It was always the usual for his colleague to stay inside the vehicle and wait for him especially during his exorcism rites, but right now, he was actually out of the limousine with a wide grin on his face.
“I thought we could make an exception and take a short break from our travel, what say you Father? Those rolls you have there would be better enjoyed sitting in a table while sipping a cup of tea, ” Father Julien stated.
Marcus waited for a moment to reply. He thought well and hard and found that his secretary was indeed right on that regard. He subsequently nodded and eyed some tables and chairs set up in a grassy area near another food stand selling refreshments.
“I guess a few minutes of break wouldn’t be harmful, ” said Marcus thoughtfully.
“Great! Then I think I will buy some tea there then, ” Father Julien stated and went his way into the refreshments booth.
Marcus went to sit on a vacant chair just outside of the center fountain’s granite-covered expanse. The grass in this part of the plaza was even thinly cut to provide visitors a dining area. The particular space smelt of mint and soil, but Marcus found the aroma a nice change from the smell of incense he had been accustomed to back in Italy. Placing the brown bag in the round metal table, he decided to scan the whole plaza while waiting for Father Julien’s order of tea.
It wasn’t really his intention to, but his attention solely fell on the woman photographer now sitting on the fountain’s base. The wavy fall of her brown hair along her shoulders complemented the brightness of the sun. The strands shimmered so beautifully it made Marcus want to steal a lock or two as a souvenir. Although wearing some boyish clothes: a long-sleeved knitted sweater, black jeans and Converse shoes, she looked elegant in the way she moved. Her fair complexion showed that she doesn’t spend time under the sun for long periods of time, but her facial expression of happiness looking at a group of children now playing the skipping rope, showed that she enjoyed being under the hot weather. She was a breathtaking sight in comparison to any other objects or person inside the plaza and Marcus was enjoying the view most certainly.
Abruptly though, as if the woman knew, she glanced at his way and Marcus suddenly found himself eye to eye with her. It was just a brief encounter, nothing to take note of, but his heart, keeping normal beats, unexpectedly jump twice out of place. It surprised him, yes. He felt as if he was caught stealing something that he wasn’t permitted to. However, ultimately disregarding it as a normal occurrence and unable to divert his eyes away from the woman, he continued to gaze at her, shooting up invisible flares of fireworks between their wide space as he did so.
Ysabelle’s daily routine consists mainly of staying inside the mansion as per the House Master’s order. She of all the members of the family was treated like a prisoner although she wasn’t even one. Alfon’s reason was simple and that was to guard her welfare. She didn’t think much of it though, but sometimes when the moon was so high and mystical, or the rainbow was spouting beautiful colors over the horizon, or the sun was brightly shining in the blue sky, she desired to go out of the mansion with her digital SLR camera in hand.This was exactly what she did early in the morning with Alfon’s permission. Without any companion, she went straight ahead to the City of Prague where there she knew she would catch numerous lively activities in the streets, establishments, or parks.The Plaza Citadelli was where she headed for the remainder of her excursion. It was actually her favorite place among the rest of th
The two priests arrived in the residence at exactly eleven-thirty in the morning. It was lunchtime, of course, so the growling of Marcus’ stomach was understandable even though he just had four rolls of pastry an hour ago. Luckily enough, the moment they entered inside the mansion’s foyer and after exchanging pleasantries with Madame Regina and Master Alfon, they were directed straight all the way to the family dining room. They were important guests, so no one except the Mistress and the Master planned to dine with them. And Ysabelle, supposed to be if she decides to show herself up on time.“Please, make yourselves comfortable, Father Marcus, Father Julien, ” Madame Regina stated, gesturing for them to sit in their reserved seats.“Yes, Madame, thank you.” Marcus was the one who answered politely.On the right side of Alfon’s center chair was where he sat, and beside him, Fathe
Father Marcus placed himself on the right side of the marble table, his waist in line with André’s chest. It was an odd position for an exorcism ceremony as normally, priests, rabbis, imams, and other religious leaders either place themselves on top of the head of the victim or at the foot. Nevertheless, no one was complaining.Regina, after pushing the button, returned to her husband’s side and sat rather anxiously on the solo sofa next to him. Still, Ysabelle continued to silently observe the development, keeping her breaths deep and controlled.Yes, as per the report, the blue and violet flames didn’t burn when Marcus placed a hand on André’s chest. He didn’t feel anything at all. No tingling sensation or searing pain. It was odd, but Marcus found it beneficial for him. True enough, the Holy Pope was right that this exorcism might be easy; however, Marcus chose not to let his guard down. After d
Black sky. Black earth. Black sea. Marcus found himself again in the same dream, but this time, not in the same way. He was lying on the sand, gazing at the sky with the blankness that was comparable to the barren place. Emptiness filled his mind. And yes, he had been like this for what seemed like hours until a wave of water came rushing towards him and when it touched his bare feet, this somehow pulled him out of the void state.His thoughts and emotions ran wild then as if it was freed from being imprisoned, and with this, confusion immediately clouded his mind. His lips tensed and his brows furrowed as he contemplated all of the recent events.He was confused because ever since he had exorcised the demon in André’s body, this dream came into full swing. How? Why? Was it possible that this was the work of the demon? Most likely not for he was sure he exorcised the damn entity into oblivion. Very sure of it.
An understandable silence fell on the room for a moment when Ysabelle left. Marcus was still standing near the table, the empty glass still in his hand. Remembering what she said about a tattoo on his arm, he decided to ask Father Julien out of curiosity and in order to break the silence. “Have you noticed anything unusual with me Father?” He turned to face his colleague and stood ready to be inspected.As if it was a normal routine, Father Julien did as expected, scanning him from head to foot. “Hmmm... not that I can see, Father Marcus. You look just the same. Why do you ask?” he answered after a minute.“My arm. Do you notice anything peculiar about it?” was Marcus’ clear inquiry. Might as well go straight to the point than have his poor secretary decipher his words.“Hmmm?” But still, Father Julien was oblivious, so Marcus raised his right arm and displayed it in
Exhilarating.That’s what Marcus first thought of when his eager lips met Ysabelle’s. He had almost convinced himself that he was already devouring the lunch table’s dessert as she tasted of sweet honeyed strawberries and the curve of her lips were moist and velvety like a chocolate cake. With all the willpower he could muster up, he didn’t use it to stop this moment. Instead, when he found her unsteady, trying to push him lightly away with both of her hands, he snaked a hand in the small of her back and pressed her closer to his body. His back was against the balustrade to stabilize them at least for any possible imbalance. A fall down to the base of the stairs would be unlucky indeed, not to mention painful.There was still some tiny pang of guilt a priest like him was expected to feel when treading on restricted boundaries, but true enough, it didn’t rack his mind. His logical reasoning was already clouded in
Dinner started at the stroke of seven with all of the usual attendees present, but there was a new addition to them now and it was the youngest member of the family.Father Marcus and Father Julien were in their same seats and so were Sir Alfon, Madame Regina, and Ysabelle. Mehak, who just arrived from an art class, decided to sit beside her Auntie on the left.“I would like to make a toast, ” Madame Regina suddenly announced before their meal began. All of their attention was now on her. She stood up, took her glass of champagne, and raised it in the air. “To Father Marcus, for saving my son’s life.”Alfon somehow looked troubled, thinking whether to take his glass or not, but in the end, he did after Regina added, “And to my son, André, for staying strong and for his good health.”Cheers!All of them chorused happily but mostly,
Ysabelle stepped backward, stirred by his daring words. “Ple-please take the envelope. It contains your picture, ” she blurted out, her cheeks in a maddening blush. Good thing the light was red, otherwise, he would have seen how red her face was.“You are escaping again, Ysabelle, ” Marcus, on impulse, remarked grimly, but that didn’t hide how her name flowed smoothly in his tongue. Although he wasn’t irritated by her swift avoidance of the topic, he was unhappy about it. He thought that they had an equal understanding of the Question and Answer portion of their conversation and for her to keep evading it definitely was the opposite.“I am what?” Ysabelle clarified, unconsciously lifting her chin more.“You are intentionally dodging yourself on my questions. They are not interrogations lovely lady and yet you act very hostile about it, ” Marcus answered. He move