The boy named Ros sat next to the door in Simon's room. He ran his hands through his hair, staring at the ground as if it were going to make sense of what he'd just learned.

Chang floated next to Simon. He didn't understand what was so difficult about the situation. During his time on earth, the existence of psychics and the spiritual realm were common knowledge. Sure, a few people disagreed, but those were the weird ones no one listened to.

After ages of silence, Ros finally spoke. "So, you're a psychic who can exorcize demons and talk to ghosts… and for some reason you still wasting money on college instead of becoming rich?"

Chang clapped his hands together. "See I told you! Drop those classes and focus on your training and you'll be rich in no time!"

"Mhm. Mhm. I agree." Ros nodded along.

"I don't want that and neither do you." Simon tugged on Chang's ear. "Don't you think me being rich would throw a wrench into your plan for me? Whatever that may be."

Chang pulled himself free and thought for a bit. Would it be so bad? Probably not. If the boy gained fame, money, and influence, that would come in handy if Chang were to gain a body.

"I don't know what a wrench is, but I think we'll be fine!"

Simon moved over to his bed. The boy had questioned Chang about Ros' ability to see the ghost after the fight with the demon. To be honest, Chang was curious about this himself. The blonde kid didn't look like a psychic, but maybe there was something there. He'd have to find out.

Thoughts raced through Chang's mind. How could he get the friend to stick around? He couldn't help but smile as the plan formed itself in his mind. He truly was a genius. However, he would need to make it seem natural.

"Tell me, boy, were you capable of seeing ghosts before?" He asked Ros. The young man shook his head. "Hmm. How long have you two been friends?"

"Years," Simon responded. His eyes pointedly moving towards his friend.

Simon truly cared about him. How quaint. Chang stifled a chuckle. The last friend he'd had tried to turn him in for a reward from the village elders.

"I see." Chang said. He circles the pair, making a proper meal of every single one of his movements. "I think I understand now. It seems, my dear pupil, that you've rubbed off on your friend. Over the years, your power has attached itself to a person you truly care about."

Ros rested his chin on the back of his hand. "Yeah, that makes sense. I guess I absorbed some of your power."

"Sounds like bullshit to me," said Simon.

"My beloved, sweet boy, why would I ever lie to either of you?"

The psychic gave him a strange glare, and for a second, Chang believed he was caught. It wasn't that impossible to believe something like this could occur.

"Remember Simon, I've told you that you are powerful. You just haven't understood how powerful. For now, I think it's best we keep Ros close by and watch for any potential power developments."

Ros raised an eager eyebrow. "Power? You think I could actually have powers?"

And just like that, the fish was on the hook. "You never know. Maybe we should try some training?"

———————————————————

John stepped off of the warm bus and onto the cold winter street. He'd left his jacket back in the hotel room because it was too hot when worn over his cassock, but now he wished he'd brought it. He continued down the street, turning onto an empty alleyway, towards what appeared to be a small shopping district.

Buildings with shops on the bottom floors lined either side of the street. Were it not for the combination of a rush of shoppers and clusters of food stands, the street would've seemed rather large. Delphi city seemed rather imposing after spending so much time in the monastery.

"Where was it?" He whispered to himself. The senior priest was supposed to debrief him on the situation, but he hadn't wanted to meet at the church for some reason.

He searched the crowd but found nothing. Behind him, a young man whispered, "I can't do that. He's a priest."

John turned to stare down at the man. About his age, with curly dark brown hair and an oversized red scarf. Another taller man accompanied him with a mischievous smile. Pickpockets? He didn't think so, but it was always best to remain cautious. John reached for the hand-length blade in his backpack, but the two men just smiled and waved, as they passed by.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The mission had him on edge. His vision about Delphi city's total annihilation by a dark cloud was something he couldn't stop replaying in his mind. Whatever that cloud was, it was coming, and soon. John was sure of it.

After a few more minutes of walking, he heard a gruff voice call out to him. "Hey, you. Come over here."

John turned back to see a grey-haired man, dressed in a black cassock and thick snow boots, standing next to a hotdog stand. He made his way over to the man who offered him a hotdog, but he declined. The man waved a heavily scarred hand to the vendor, thanking him.

"Seems your powers of perception aren't the reason you were called here." The older man said. "You walked by me twice and didn't see me. Aren't you a little young to be in this kind of work?"

He hadn't exactly been sent. More like he'd forced his name onto certain papers that would allow him to be in the place he knew he needed to be.

John cleared his throat. "All that are willing can serve the kingdom of heaven. I received training from a young age and I'm eighteen now. You can rest assured; I am quite good."

The older man coughed a laugh and nodded over to the end of the street. "In our line of work, that's not something you say, it's something you show."

They walked along the sidewalk as hordes of people flooded into the street.

"I'm Father Harold Grimm. I'll be the overseer for this mission. The Vatican hasn't told me much about you. They never do. Though it seems the only information I have on you is your name."

"John Barrion. Raised in the Calder monastery since the age of eight. Trained under master exorcist Cobell for the last three years."

Father Grimm chuckled. "Master exorcist? Couldn't cut it out in the real world, so he retreated into the monastery life. Pathetic."

Grimm pulled a cigarette from his inner breast pocket, putting it up to his lips without lighting it.

"Is it wise to do that out here? In front of these people?" John asked.

"Is it wise to put a cassock and collar on a child?" He shrugged. "Don't worry, I won't light it. It's just a habit. I stopped a long time ago. Too many things trying to kill me to add this little stick to the list."

Their short walk ended at what appeared to be an abandoned firehouse. The windows were boarded up and the garage doors nailed to the ground. John swore that if he looked close enough at the space between the boards, he could see small green beams of light moving in their direction.

Grimm led him to the side of the building, where they entered through a thick metal door. Inside was a small room about four feet wide in every direction. Torn bible pages littered the walls. A simple trick to keep out demons. It created a thin barrier that purified the air of the surrounding space with a holy light.

They continued through a small door into the basement. A hallway with multiple rooms to either side stretched far beyond the reach of the building above them. As they passed by doors, John saw several people. Some looked like regular office workers. Others, like him, were priests.

They passed by a gym where over a dozen men and women trained vigorously. Their dark blue uniforms and bulletproof armor added to their already imposing figures.

Grimm knocked on the door at the very end of the hallway.

"Come in." A soft feminine voice came through the door.

"Sheila, I brought the new kid," said Grimm.

The chubby woman behind the desk gave a thin-lipped smile. "Yes, and what a time for you to arrive, Mr. Barrion. Things are heating up around here and it appears our mission has changed."

John sighed but didn't correct the woman. Like most, she referred to him as Mr. Instead of by his church title. He was young and that meant people thought they could get away with anything towards him.

She typed something onto her keyboard and printed out a sheet of paper with a few sentences on it. Grimm grabbed the sheet and removed his sunglasses. A scar shined under his right eye. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched.

"What does it say?" John asked. Clearly nothing good.

"The demon we were chasing has been subdued."

John tilted his head. That was a good thing. Sure, it meant he would have less time in Delphi to investigate his vision, but one less demon running around was always a good thing.

"Our job is now to investigate the person who did it." Grimm looked over the sheet as if he would find more if he looked at it harder. "We have no info other than it's a young man with no connection to our organization who attends Delphi university. The young man is a psychic," he read.

John thought back to his studies on psychics. There were different kinds. Some born with their abilities, others received them as gifts from supernatural beings. Their powers and strengths varied from person to person, so there was no way to know what you were dealing with until you faced them.

"Well, it looks like you lucked out for your first mission. No demons, ghosts, or monsters. Just a psychic." Grimm smirked.

"We should treat all encountered beings as threats until proven otherwise." John recited the words of master Cobell. Grimm nodded in approval.

Sheila stood from her desk, bringing out a thick black briefcase. "I got these specially made and delivered. Try not to lose these, Grimm."

Father Grimm opened the case, revealing two large silver pistols and two short silver blades. The ivory grips on each gleamed under the bright lights of the office.

"I'd like to see how a psychic handles a fifty cal to the forehead." Grimm said, holding his pistol out towards the wall.

John gripped the sides of his cassock. "We can't just go in guns blazing. What if this psychic is a good guy?"

Sheila clapped loudly. "He's right, ya know. They let you do what you want for now, but if you cause trouble like last time, they won't hesitate to pull you again."

Grimm shrugged and put the gun away. "You're right. I'll be by the book, I promise." He winked at John. "Now, what do you say we go bag ourselves a psychic?"

John gripped the strap of his backpack. Was this psychic part of the chaos in his dream? Flashes of screaming faces and figures shrouded in shadow attacking the city's inhabitants made him feel lightheaded. He would find whoever was responsible and he would do his duty to protect the people of this city. He had all the strength he needed with God on his side.