God Incognito: Chapter 2
John Wind Eagle has happily kept a low profile for centuries. To the few who know him, he is thought of as a competent practitioner of the mystic arts. Not exactly weak, but definitely not powerful. Power attracts attention and the wrong kind of attention can make life complicated.
For many centuries, a carefree, uncomplicated life has worked out well for John. That is, until an angel delivers an ominous warning to him. A warning that soon has him neck deep in feral vampires savaging the city, upper level daemons on a serial killing spree and the catholic church’s secret army waging war against the supernatural community.
So much for an uncomplicated life…
Chapter 2: Seeing Spirits
John finally spoke again when he remembered Patrick was still waiting for him in his office. “I’ll find your missing people or at least try to find out what happened to them, padré. I assume you’ve got some important belongings in that bag for each of them?”
“Yes,” father Murray said passing John the bag he was holding. And just like that, the two men fell into their old familiar behaviors as if words had never been spoken. “The necklace belonged to Sharon Sissac. The pipe was Dukes’ and that make up kit is Lois’. Their photos are labeled on the back. Those items were all I could get and they were difficult enough to ask for without being able to give a decent explanation to their loved ones.”
John could only imagine what father Murray must’ve said to get those items. “I’ll see what I can do with them. For now, let me see to Patrick. Do you mind waiting out here in reception until I’m done? I’d rather talk to him alone.”
“Not at all, John.” Father Murray replied. Before John got too far away, the good father added one last thing. “John, I really want to thank you for whatever help you can give Patrick, but as always, this has to remain between us. The church can never find out. If they did, it would mean a lot of unwanted trouble for all of us. And on that, as strained as this may sound, you’ll just have to trust me.”
John always wondered what that statement really meant, but he had gone through that dance with father Murray too many times over the years to think the good father would ever properly explain himself. “I know the drill, padré,” said John. He then went into his office and sat down behind his desk. Evidently the Game Boy had been too old school to hold Patrick’s attention for very long. John’s office, on the other hand, seemed to captivate the boy.
To most people’s eyes, it seemed like a simple, ordinary office. The walls were painted a plain egg shell white. The windows on the far wall had the same old style, horizontal metal blinds as the reception area. They cast film noir style shadows from the sunlight that penetrated between their gaps. There was a fair sized, but nondescript wooden desk with a computer, a monitor, a stapler and a pen and pencil holder sitting atop it. To the side of the desk, on its own stand, was a printer with a couple of shelves to hold paper and supplies beneath it. There were two chairs and a couch identical to the ones in reception. There were also two, four drawer, vertical file cabinets along one wall. A trash can and a closet on the wall to the right of the desk. And finally, a few hanging plants to liven up the room a bit.
To the majority of the world, it was a simple office, but to a select group of people, there was nothing simple about John’s office. The room was infinitely more interesting than the reception area, which was by no means ordinary in its own right. Patrick evidently belonged to that select group because he seemed to have no problem noticing all the things that made the room special.
Patrick seemed to sense every magical thing that permeated the room. Not even John’s mystical wards went unnoticed as the boy casually ran his hand along two of the walls where John had drawn wards of protection. They should have been invisible to his eyes, yet somehow they weren’t. Now John knew there was no way the boy could’ve been unaware of the dark spirit that had been attached to him. He had been pretending not to see the creature. John suspected he had been pretending not to notice anything unusual for a very long time. With all the things that existed in spirit form for Patrick to see and no one in the world he could confide in, it was a wonder to John that the boy hadn’t gone insane. For all John knew, the boy was insane.
Patrick stopped at the window and then lightly brushed his finger tips across the window seal where another ward guarded against unwanted guests entering from there. His eyes smoothly looked up and down at the invisible symbols drawn on the ceiling and floor. John could see that the boy noticed them even though he tried to act as if he didn’t. “Curious,” John thought to himself as his mind began to consider the possibilities.
Next, Patrick closely observed the plants. The average person would only see simple house plants of some kind, but John knew Patrick saw them for what they were. After a few moments, the plant Patrick was staring at leaned toward him from its hanging pot. Patrick backed away, acting as if he intended to move at that precise moment. His face gave no reaction to the plant that was clearly moving toward him. Only a blind man could have missed the movement, but the boy maintained his pretense. Patrick was obviously very practiced in the fine art of pretending not to see the supernatural world around him.
At first, John thought Patrick’s behavior wasn’t an act of nonchalance toward the strange and unusual things he saw. If it had been, Patrick’s body should have shone signs. Yet John’s senses didn’t detect any change in any of Patrick’s physiological norms. His heart rate, blood pressure, respiratory rate were all normal. Even Patrick’s electro-dermal activity all remained the same. If the boy was simply doing a great job of pretending not to see what he actually saw, his body should have betrayed him much in the same way a lie detector determines the truth through physiological responses. But Patrick’s body gave no reaction whatsoever to the phenomena he witnessed. To Patrick, spirits, magical wards, sentient plant life, they all registered as ordinary as breathing to him.
John said nothing as Patrick moved toward the closet door. He obviously sensed there was something to the closet even though John had taken great pains to make sure no one would. In all honesty, it was a blow to his ego that Patrick’s natural intuition saw so easily through his work. Humans could still amaze John, even after all this time.
Patrick stood in front of the closet door for a few moments, unsure whether or not he really wanted to open the door. John wondered if it was the wards on the door that made Patrick hesitate or if it was his own natural instincts cautioning him. Either way, it was time to interrupt the boy. “Mr. McQueen, there is the matter of my fee. Do you have it?”
As if coming out of a trance, Patrick seemed a bit disoriented for a moment. It was in that moment that John thought he saw something or someone else. “Huh? Oh, yeah,” Patrick said as he snapped out of his preoccupation with John’s office. He quickly dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a baseball card. “Here you go, Mr. Wind Eagle,” Patrick said as he handed John the card. He then walked around the desk and sat down in the chair facing John.
Smiling, John examined the baseball card. The player on it was Harold Baines. So the boy was a White Sox fan, John thought to himself. “Patrick, is this really your card? You didn’t swipe this from a friend, did you?”
“No, Mr. Wind Eagle. I promise it’s from my own collection. I never seen him play, but I got a lot of cards of players that I never seen play.”
John believed Patrick. He could sense the boy’s aura quite strongly all over the card. He obviously handled his baseball card collection, regularly. “Okay Mr. McQueen, I believe you. Do you have the remainder of my fee?” John asked doing his best to keep a serious face.
“Yes sir,” Patrick said while going in his opposite jeans pocket. “Here you go Mr. Wind Eagle,”
Patrick thrust a dollar bill toward John’s face. John took it and looked it over. He held it to the light pretending to check it as if it was counterfeit. Once satisfied, he put the dollar in his desk drawer and gave Patrick a solemn look.
“How much did Father Murray tell you about me, Mr. McQueen?”
“Um, he said you was a consultant and might be able to help me.”
“Do you know what a consultant is Mr. McQueen?” Patrick just shyly looked away from John so he decided to help the boy out with the definition. “A consultant is someone who gives professional or expert advice, Mr. McQueen.”
“But that’s what father Murray does,” said Patrick.
“Yes, I suppose that’s right. And like father Murray, I don’t tell others what my client has told me, unless of course, I have permission. Do you understand so far?”
“I — I think so.”
“Good. Now while father Murray and I both give expert advice, father Murray’s advice is based on his belief and knowledge of God. My advice is based on something very different. Now that I’ve gotten that thing off your back and you’ve looked around my office, can you guess what it might be?”
Patrick’s eyes lit up for a brief moment when John spoke of the dark spirit that had been plaguing him. It was the first time he ever met someone who could see the thing on his back. Suddenly, Patrick became very curious about John. Then, out of habit, he regained his composure and returned to his usual guarded self before answering the question. “Uh, magic maybe?” Patrick replied more in the form of a question than an answer.
“Do you believe in magic, Mr. McQueen?” John asked.
“Well, I — I guess so. I guess I have to,” said Patrick
“My area of expertise is the paranormal and magic certainly is a part of that. But more importantly, when you spoke with father Murray about your situation, he realized that you needed a different kind of consultant. That’s why he brought you to me. Based on the things you two discussed, he felt I would be the best help for you. Do you understand?”
“I — I think so. You’re trying to say I don’t need a exorcist. I need a magician.”
“Exorcist! Did you think you needed an exorcist?” John asked.
“Well, maybe not anymore,” replied Patrick. “Since you got rid of the demon.”
“That wasn’t a daemon on your back, Patrick. It was something known as a dark spirit. How long had it been clinging to you?”
“Too long, Mr. Wind Eagle. It just showed up one day like they always do, but it wouldn’t go away. Thanks for getting rid of it. So, we’re done, right?” Even as Patrick asked, he pretty much already knew things wouldn’t be that simple.
“I’m sorry Mr. McQueen,” John confirmed, “but getting rid of that dark spirit was just relieving a symptom of your problem. What you need is the problem itself fixed. To do that, you need to tell me things. Just like you told Father Murray things.”
Patrick’s eyes narrowed at John’s last statement. He obviously wasn’t sure if he was going to open up to John like he did with father Murray. John knew this was a possibility. He expected to have to win the boy over. Hopefully, getting rid of the dark spirit counted for something in his favor.
“Mr. McQueen, when you’re playing or maybe in class or even just watching television at home, do you sometimes see things that other people don’t?”
“Maybe,” Patrick replied after a bit of hesitation. His voice was very tentative, like he was testing the waters with his answer. John got the feeling he had been through this before with other people and wasn’t believed. Probably starting with his own parents.
“Would it be safe to say that some of the things you’ve seen have noticed that you can see them too? Perhaps they even like to hang around you? Maybe they even talk to you sometimes?”
Patrick didn’t answer, but he had perked up a little. John knew he had obviously hit on the truth. Patrick’s body language also answered the earlier question of whether he had been aware of the spirits that gravitated toward him. “It is very important that you be honest with me, Mr. McQueen. I need to know in order to help you.”
Patrick looked upbeat for a moment. Then he sunk into a depression that John got the feeling had become the only way of life the boy knew. Then Patrick confirmed it with the next words out of his mouth. “Nobody can help me, Mr. Wind Eagle. It’s just a matter of time.”
“A matter of time? A matter of time before what?” John asked
“Before I burn in hell,” replied Patrick somberly.
John’s eyes opened wide with surprise at Patrick’s statement. Someone had been filling the boy’s head with terrible notions. “Now why would you say that, Patrick? Did somebody tell you that?” John asked. He had dropped his formal address of the boy without realizing it.
“My mom and dad said people who use magic or talk to spirits are agents of Satan. And sooner or later, they’re going to burn in hell.”
“A little while ago I used magic to help you Patrick. Do you think I’m going to burn in hell for that?”
Patrick not only didn’t answer the question, but he also shied away from eye contact with John. Actions that in and of themselves were an answer. “Oh Patrick, I’m so sorry your parents told you that. Sometimes people fear what they don’t understand, but I’m here to tell you things are not as bad as they may seem. Your mind is just a little bit different from most people’s. It makes you open to what most people call the spirit world.
“That kinda sounds to me like my mind’s a lot different from most people’s,” said Patrick with a slight frown.
“Yeah, I suppose it does mean that, Patrick. You see, you can hear and see spirits. That makes you what we call a receiver. The fact that you both hear and see them means you’re a powerful receiver. Spirits sense this in you and are drawn to you because of it. Some may find you curious and just want to talk to you. Others may want your help and try to influence you into doing what they want. And then there are some spirits that aren’t very nice at all. Those spirits are the ones who might tell you something bad just to mess with you. They might try to get you to do things just to watch you get into trouble. Other bad ones might want to hurt you just because they think it would be fun to do so. Maybe something like this has already happened to you before?”
Patrick didn’t answer, but John could see it in the boy’s eyes. Something like that had indeed happened to him in his past.
“Your parents don’t understand your gift, Patrick. I’m sure they love you, but they’re scared for you. Maybe they’re even a little scared of you. That’s why they want you to stop using your gift. But they don’t understand that you can’t turn your gift on and off like a light switch. You’re always on. If you didn’t already realize that, then you’ll need to get use to the fact that this is something you have deal with for the rest of your life. I know that’s not fun for you to hear right now, but believe me, I can help you learn how to control and live with your ability.”
“But Mr. Wind Eagle — ”
“Yes, Patrick?”
“I — I don’t just see and hear them,” Patrick said tentatively.
“Oh really,” John said, wondering what shoe was about to drop next.
Chapter three of five coming next week.
“God Incognito” will be released later this year in both epub and book formats.
