The Prefect rose from his seat behind a large wooden desk, decorated with gold leaf plating. I was beginning to suspect he was behind such extravagant misuse of the funds gained through their services to the community.
He was a handsome man. At a glance, he seemed to be in his early forties, with brown hair and eyes, clean-shaven, approximately 5’10, and on the slender side, almost androgynous. The smile he flashed me gave me an icky feeling. He understood too well how pleasing his appearance undoubtedly was to many women. But what he believed to be seductive struck me more as tacky and desperate.
“Sister Stavros, welcome to Willow Grove,” he said with an excess of enthusiasm while waving at one of the two empty guest chairs across the desk from him. “I was surprised by the message of your imminent arrival. To what do we owe the pleasure of such an illustrious visitor?”
I barely managed to repress the urge to roll my eyes at the obsequious way in which he addressed me. I had no time for a suck up.
“The Roman Curia is disturbed by the news emanating from Willow Grove,” I said, going straight to the point as I sat down in the chair despite my desire to remain standing. “What’s going on?”
“I’m… not sure specifically what news you are referring to,” he said carefully.
I gave him a disbelieving look before my eyes narrowed in suspicion. He swallowed hard as he settled back into his own chair.
“You’re not sure?” I repeated sternly. “We’re hearing about countless cases of possession in the area. By the last report I perused, you had more than triple the normal numbers.”
The Prefect’s shoulders slouched, and a deep air of defeat settled on his face. The genuine distress emanating from him made my suspicions that he might be in on it waver a little.
“You’re correct. There has been an explosion of cases, none of which seem to be related,” Ewan said, running his fingers through his medium length hair. “We had been able to handlethem without too much difficulty except over the last ten months. Of all the cases, a single one goes completely haywire every month.”
“What does that mean exactly?” I insisted.
He shifted uneasily in his cushioned leather chair before answering. “The inquisitor or exorcist assigned to that victim never returns.”
I gasped, stunned that such vital information had not been included in the file Father Paulus gave me.
“The most confusing part is that the possession victim is freed, but they remember absolutely nothing about what happened during the exorcism or after. They lose consciousness at one point and awaken with no memory of anything that occurred from the first day of their possession until that moment.”
“What about the Inquisitor’s companion? Surely they have some information as to what happened to their missing partner?” I asked, baffled.
The Prefect averted his eyes, shame and guilt settling on his features.
“They didn’t have a companion,” he confessed in a small voice.
“Tell me I didn’t hear you correctly,” I said in an icy tone.
His back stiffened, and he looked at me with the strangest mix of guilt and self-righteous outrage. “Our numbers are too few and our cases are too many,” he countered defensively. “From the inception of this Sanctum, our members have performed solo missions without any problems.”
“Clearly, thereisa problem,” I argued in a self-evident manner.
“Only beginning this year,” he retorted. “We’ve been here for a little over thirty-four years. None of this was ever a problem until recently. Now we’re dealing with a greater entity.”
“Which demon is possessing them?” I asked.
“I have no clue,” Ewan said in a tired and discouraged voice.
“What are the common threads between the victims?”
He shook his head apologetically. “None that we can identify.”
“Their location?” I insisted.
“The victims whose exorcisms led to a cleric’s disappearance are quite literally scattered all over Willow Grove and the neighboring suburbs. We tried to establish some sort of pattern between them that could maybe give us a clue as to who the next victim would be, but it generally appears to be random.”
“What about their social status?” I asked, stunned but also thrilled by the challenge.
“That also failed to provide any connection between the victims. They come from every possible walk of life, from the poorest to the highest nobility of Willow Grove.”
I pursed my lips as I reflected on the matter, trying to think about what other trail might be followed before I went to meet with each of the cured victims whose exorcist went missing.
