It was near nine o’clock in the evening by the time Kathlan arrived at the newly replaced door to his office. Where the shattered frosted window pine door once hung was now replaced by a much thicker solid oak door with his personal insignia carved into the top center, filled in with a mix of bronze and iron. The twisted roots of a lotus flower topped with a triquetra was a design that Geneva had created with the help of Linda Murray. They had explained it as a functional yet aesthetically pleasing version of a multi-tiered protective ward they had tested and used against shades and other forms of remote viewing based on his own designs from a centuries-old journal Geneva found in his library. Kathlan had liked the new design better than his own simply inscribed name on the old door and refrained from informing them their new logo was merely a doodle he drew while bored at a Sanctum hearing.
He opened the door to the warmly lit room, the dark oak desk was empty though Geneva’s coat, which was today a dark leather trench coat with silver embroidery along the sleeves, hung on the coat rack. He placed his coat on the opposite hook and took the door on the left into the library. To his surprise, the only figure in the room was a blond-haired woman dressed in a dark blue dress suit sitting at the lone desk reading a copy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's unreleased work ‘The Devil in the Dark’, which Kathlan possessed the only copy. The story was a pseudo fictionalized account of a job he took back in 1930 shortly before the famous author and detectives’ death. As Kathlan recalled, Arthur was tracking a series of murders amongst the elite of West Hampshire, which he knew were connected to the occult worlds he was involved with in the later part of his life. The story followed Sherlock Holmes sometime before his death in ‘The Final Problem’ as he ran into a mysterious figure that stalked and killed wealthy businessmen and politicians who were members of an occult group determined to prove the existence of demons and angels in the world. Holmes would later find that the figure was the devil himself and was subsequently told of his imminent death by the hands of his brother for befouling his work.
In truth, Arthur had bumbled into Kathlan while he was interrogating a Puca over a series of demonic possessions that had taken place within the group. The would-be detective and spiritualist was temporarily possessed by the Djinn at the center of the whole ordeal and ended up getting cursed as a result of the event. Kathlan was able to free the man, but Arthur would eventually die from the curse a few months later. As thanks for the ‘brilliant and enlightening experience’ Arthur had written the book specifically for him and gifted it to Kathlan along with a few other handwritten manuscripts on the occult world of Britain at the time. Many of his notes led to the dissolvement of an illegal artifact smuggling ring which included several vessels from the far east and Egypt; one of which he now recalled was sitting on the shelf within the secret room of the basilica.
“The slender form of the darkest of the Lord’s creations stood against the candlelight in the poorly lit room, a devious and deceptive grin curled across his sun beaten skin. The cries of the Magistrate silenced inside a swirling void of aether that protruded from his gloved hand like a torrent of dread and dismay that froze the blood in Sherlocks veins” Kathlan narrated while reading over the woman’s shoulder.
With a trained whirl of movement, the woman stood and produced a .38 revolver from her waist and aimed it directly at Kathlan’s head. Her expression was less fearful and more akin to a mechanical sentry, her steel blue eyes darting up and down her target assessing the various risks and courses of actions. In an instant her eyes fixated on him and without looking away, released the hammer of her firearm safely away from him and stored it back in the holster on her left hip.
“You should be more careful. Even the Devil would need a few days to recover from a bullet to the brain.” The blonde woman snarked with a dry tone.
“I, however, would be merely inconvenienced for a few hours with a terrible headache.” He chuckled in response, extending his hand towards her. “I was simply enjoying the moment with you. It’s not often I get the better of you Ruby, though it is hard not to get sucked into Sir Doyle’s work.”
“Well, it’s not often that you get to read such a fascinating description of what others see you as Mr. Kathlan.” she replied, the dryness slowly thawing into her more relaxed and playful voice as she shook his hand.
Rubia Carlia San Miguel was a well-trained and respected figure within the mundane world of law enforcement, though she herself lacked any real capacity to use the various occult arts that she found herself dealing with in the dark and mystical underworld of New York. As the primary intermediary for the mundane and occult worlds that lived and asserted themselves in the city, she oversaw contacting Kathlan and the various organizations of strange deaths and incidents that had normal humans as victims of supernatural occurrences. It was Ruby, as she was prone to correct people, that had alerted him to the series of Pretzel Magicians that were frequently being slid across her desk at the state police department’s headquarters. She was far more agreeable and capable than her predecessor, a balding middle-aged man who fancied himself a warlock and that ended up pressured into being an informant for a local occult group. His career ended when Kathlan drew up evidence that he had been responsible for the death of four officers that unwittingly walked into a Tesso nest which they believed to be a drug smuggling operation. The officers had suspicions of the man taking bribes and were falsely led to believe evidence of his crimes could be found in a base within the sewer drains under the city. The balding man never made it to trial, dying from ‘un-identified supernatural causes’.
“Kath stop being an ass to our guests.” Came the familiar call of Geneva from behind him. “I leave for a few minutes to make coffee since we have been waiting for you all night and you suddenly waltz in without a care.” She continued placing a black clay teapot and three white ceramic teacups on the table. “Let me guess, you forgot the chalk again.” She stated without looking at him, focusing her attention on pouring the black nectar of life into the small cups.
“Of course not, I updated the clausal runes to ensure they always returned to my pocket as you instructed. This time I merely decided to walk and think on my meeting earlier with Father Sullivan.”
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Geneva stopped and eyed him suspiciously. “He’s FATHER Sullivan now?” her eyes glowing with a green energy that tried to slyly read his passing thoughts. Kathlan allowed her to see the meeting with Linda and Father O’Reilly as well as the figure of Uriel in his meeting, though he left no context about what was discussed at those meetings. She gave a short sigh and continued to pour the third cup before handing it directly to him. “You can fill me in on the details later. For now, Ruby has graciously taken time out of her busy schedule to talk to you about Hudsley case. So be polite.”
“I was only having a bit of fun, but you’re right.” Kathlan turned to Ruby “I’m sorry for teasing you.”
The woman brushed her short-kept hair away from her face and took the cup that Geneva offered her. “It’s fine. I should be grateful for the reminder that people such as him can still get the better of me, no matter how much I train to avoid it.” She took a sip and let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Thank you for the coffee, this is exactly what I needed after jumping through the Devine Sanctum’s hoops of bureaucracy.”
“I hope you the trouble was worth what you received.” Kathlan said as he took his seat at the opposite side of the table from Ruby’s previous spot at the table. She brought her coffee back to her seat as Geneva pulled another chair from the far side wall and joined them.
“I didn’t expect to get much from the priests but as luck would have it, they seemed as desperate for information as I was. I was able to get an audience with the dux inquisitorem, after I called in a few favors, and he was able to confirm a number of my own findings. Primarily, that the sanctum didn’t believe any person, magically inclined or otherwise could have done this and secondarily, that despite what I WAS being told, they seemed to have no idea why the body they posses is reacting the way that it is.”
“What do you mean by that?” Kathlan asked as he leaned into the discussion with a peaked interest.
“Again, I wasn’t able to pull any useful information out, but he did say having a demon body was keeping the inquisitorem busy with new avenues of research.” She started taking another sip of her coffee. “From what I understand, Demons can’t be killed in the traditional sense, they can be imprisoned, purified, absolved, and banished but not outright be murdered like a normal person. The sanctum seemed surprised but not dumbstruck by the revelation, so I take it to mean that while it is rare, it is still possible.” She finished with a disappointed look, placing the cup down on the table and filling it back up from the pot.
Kathlan was surprised at how well this mundane detective had pulled information from the sealed lips of the sanctum, it was a feat that even he had difficulty with, though he considered now that they would consider leaked information far more dangerous in his hands than in the hands of a mundane like her. Ruby had only been in her position for a year but displayed an uncanny aptitude for the line of work. Though she hadn’t been made aware of his true abilities, the trust she placed in him with what little she was able to uncover in the short time she had known him was admirable. He had discussed having a meeting with her about his various exploits and information he had with Geneva, but she cautioned that such news could push her to abandon that trust she had placed in his work. He wondered how much better she could perform her job if she knew of the various informants and allies that he had within his circle but decided to trust Geneva and her intuitions.
“You’d be correct,” Kathlan explained after a moment of thought, “Summoned demons, those spirits which were born of the depths and called here to this world in a physical body, generally have a large well of energy that makes them difficult to deal with. Usually, Sanctum Knights and other religious warriors would be hard pressed just to banish such a creature from this world. It would take specialized rituals and years of research to bind or purify such a powerful entity, and even then, the sacrifices needed would be astronomical. The preferred method of dealing with such a high-ranking demon would be to summon an angel to battle against it in hopes that it would either be completely destroyed by its holy weapons or wounded enough to force it to retreat back to its home plane.” He paused, seeing Ruby carefully absorb the information she received. “However, Mephistopheles is not a summoned demon, he was once a general of the Roman legionaries named Eratus Timerideos, though he only received that name after he rose to prominence in the wars with the Gaals. After a series of crushing defeats, he turned to the same magic he was attempting to eradicate and soon after became a lower ranked demon. Unlike most other demons, his power was drawn from the ambition of a human soul, so it leaves a weakness I imagine he had long forgotten that he had. If his soul were to be ‘reaped’, as it were, his body would be left behind like any other mundane or naturally occurring creature would.”
“I didn’t even realize that was possible.” She stated with a look of confusion and interest flashing in her eyes.
“As I said, his is an unusual case. I have only known of a handle full of such entities that were created in this manner.” He said, finishing the rest of his coffee.
A loud knock echoed through the room as a blue and green rift opened in the side wall of the library, the bookcases being pushed aside with an unnatural extension of the brick beside them. Kathlan recognized the symbols that formed around the gate as it solidified into a stained-glass door, the scene of Dantes rising from Purgatory prominently and beautifully depicted in hues of red, brown, and yellows. This was the Purgatory Express, a magical equivalent of the postal service that carried out the various delivery needs of the occult world. The knock came once again with the words ‘URGENT DELIVERY’ glowing alongside Virgil’s outstretched arm towards Dante.
Geneva rose from her chair and opened the door, a well-dressed fay stepped out with a satchel across his chest. The man had piercing violet eyes and had the complexion of freshly fallen snow, an indication that he was born of the Winter Fay Elves.
“Apologies for the intrusion. I have a direct delivery for an entity referred to as Kathlan.”
“You’ve reached his office, I Geneva Falkner, will receive it as his servant on the Masters behalf.” Geneva recited. “To whom was this delivery addressed from?”
“The addresser has paid to remain anonymous outside of the contents of the package. I do apologize for the inconvenience.” The man in a white two-piece suit pulled a black envelope from the satchel and handed it Geneva in two hands with a low bow. “Thank you for your time.” He stated after delivering the envelope and stood with a smile, waiting. Geneva sighed in frustration and pulled a silver coin from her pocket, handing it over to the man with feigned appreciation.
“And thank you for the discretion of your earnest company.”
The man once again bowed and left through the stained-glass door, the wall receding back to original size as the gate disappeared.
“Obligatory tipping even after being paid to deliver it; what a scam.” She complained in her dry voice before turning the letter over and placing her hand above it. A small circuit appeared along the envelope and turned a calming blue before she opened it and read the letter. “Better find something nicer to wear Kath, you’ve been invited to a party at the Black Cathedral.”