Page 22 of Sinistram
Travis met his gaze. “Tell me.”
Steve fiddled with the rings on his fingers. “There are always ghosts. Everyone knows that. Worse some places than others, but anyone who’s been on the street for long has crosses, crucifixes, and salt to make the ghosts leave them alone. Works better on some than others.”
Travis had picked up as much from working with their clients at St. Dismas. Some of the men shied away from the topic when it came up, but even then, he could see in their eyes that they believed, but either couldn’t face their fear or were wary of admitting it.
“I know. I see them too.” Travis didn’t say much to their residents about his abilities, and they knew nothing of his monster hunting with Brent, but validating Steve’s report was likely to get the man to say more.
Steve ran one hand over the other. “You do? Huh… Is it a sin?”
“To see them? I don’t believe that,” Travis said. “Not everyone agrees. But the ghosts didn’t ask to be that way. Still part of the flock.”
“Okay,” Steve said to himself, running his tongue over his lips. “Some of the ghosts ignore us. Others try to help—warning about the cops or bad guys, but there are some dangerous ones—we pass the word around and steer clear.”
He cleared his throat and glanced from side to side again, not wanting to be overheard. “But themonstershave been getting worse.”
“What kind of monsters do you mean?” Travis knew that many of their guests had a history of addiction and psychological problems. That might make him doubt their accounts. But Steve had been at St. Dismas long enough to get treatment.
“Black dogs with red eyes that just appear and disappear, sometimes they carry people away,” Steve replied in a voice above a whisper. “Little ugly creatures with big teeth that steal food. An old woman who offers to tell your fortune and sucks out your soul.”
When we’ve handled the mine monsters, Brent and I have to handle some clean-up closer to home, Travis thought, chagrinned they hadn’t noticed. He and Brent periodically went on patrol, but it had been a while, and he promised himself that he would create a regular schedule.
“There are more of them? Showing up in more places?” Travis prompted.
Steve nodded. “Yeah, I heard through the grapevine that a couple of my old buddies went missing. A few days later, they found bones and clothing. Somethingatethem.”
The monsters were smart enough to prey on people the cops were unlikely to believe, roaming the alleys and back streets that even the police avoided.
“I’ll see what I can do about it,” Travis promised him. “Do you have a theory about why it’s worse lately?”
Steve gave a humorless laugh. “Not really. Full moon, no moon, holiday, none of that seems to matter. Some of the guys banded together, managed to get some guns and knives. They were ex-military, knew how to fight. They started to patrol, and word went out for the rest of us to stay inside the area. For a while, that helped.”
“Then what?” Travis feared he could guess.
“The monsters got them,” Steve replied. “Almost like they leveled up against the threat and ripped them apart. Since then, people just hide. They don’t fight unless they’re cornered and then they lose.”
“You’re safe here.” Travis didn’t elaborate on the supernatural protections around St. Dismas, from spells to salt lines to sigils and wards. Now, he wondered if the halfway house might be targeted because of those precautions by whatever was sending the monsters.
No, he thought.Not whatever.Whoever. Just like how the monster hunters are being hunted. Sinistram’s the only group powerful enough to pull off a city-wide monsterpalooza. But what’s in it for them?
“Thanks for listening, Padre,” Steve picked up his tray. “If you have any friends on the witchy side who could help, my boys on the street would sure appreciate it.”
“See you at bingo?” Travis asked when Steve stood. “I’m calling tonight. Don’t let that scare you off.”
Steve laughed. “Save a seat for me. I might just make it.”
Travis watched him leave and replayed their conversation in his mind.
The Sinistram has done its best to be invisible for a long time. It’s not like they’re signing their work, but those in the know are likely to suspect them first. So how doessuper-charging monsters and killing monster hunters serve a purpose? I’m missing something big. I just don’t know how to fill in the gap.
Travis found that presiding over the bingo night jostled him out of his thoughts and lifted his mood. No money was exchanged, everyone got cards and chits for free, and the cookie prizes came from donations or the St. Dismas kitchen. Still, even their most streetwise residents got into the spirit of the game, hooting and hollering and going all-in.
Afterward, movie night provided an action flick and snacks, a popular way to pass the evening.
“Nicely done,” he told Jon as they stood in the back of the common room, watching the middle of the movie. “You set everything up to come off without a hitch.”
Jon shrugged, although he smiled at the praise. “Nothing new or different, but it’s worth it when they get some time to take a load off. And you were an awesome bingo caller.”
“We used to joke that a class in bingo games, bake sales, potluck dinners, and yard sales would have stood us in better stead as parish priests than some of the high-level theology,” Travis replied.
