ELDRITCH NIGHT (Rough Draft)

Chapter Thirteen: Words of Blessing

In front of me sat a plate of steamed vegetables and rice on flat bread. A carafe of sweet tea, unfortunately with no ice, had been placed in the center of the table. Upside down paper cups were stacked neatly beside it. Frankly, it was the best thing I'd seen in weeks. Even before everything had changed, my diet tended to come out of a microwave, or a fast-food drive through.

"This is great," I said. "Thank you so much for having me."

"You're quite welcome," Said Tiller's uncle.

Tiller had introduced his uncle to me as Pastor Belk, a minister at St. Matthew's Lutheran Church, or at least he was before the events of Eldritch Night. It was the first time I'd heard the term, but apparently it was commonly used among the survivors of Charleston, though the term was generally only spoken in hushed tones.

No one used the 'A' word. Apocalypse or Rapture had become taboo. I guess the connotations were too final. If you admitted the world had ended, then what was left to do but wait? I wondered if it was the end Father Belk had imagined when he gave his sermons.

Sitting next to me on my right was Tiller, and I was seated across from Pastor Belk. To my left was a young girl with a blue dress and two puffy, gravity defying ponytails. When I caught her staring she turned away, hiding her face.

"This is my sister," Tiller said. "Tish, say hello to our guest, Mr. Finn."

"Hi," she said with a small wave, still not meeting my eyes.

"Hello, Tish," I said. "I wondered who was keeping Tiller here in line. It's nice to finally meet you."

"Thanks," she said hesitantly. "Is it true you're a monster hunter, and you travel with a blue demon? My friend Mike said..." The words were a torrent, flowing together until they were almost unintelligible.

"Calm down, sweetheart," Pastor Belk said. "Let's say grace first. We can talk over our meal, okay? You don't object, do you?" The pastor turned towards me awaiting an answer.

"Uh, no," I said. "It sounds nice."

Pastor Belk had us all briefly hold hands as he said grace over our meal. The simple prayer gave the meeting a sense of normalcy. I cherished that feeling, fleeting though it was.

"Please, eat," Said Father Belk.

"Thank you, again," I said. "Really."

The food was delicious, the vegetables crisp and fresh and the bread flaky and warm. The tea was room temperature and overly sweet, and it was exactly what I needed. It made me think of home.

"Pastor Belk..." I said.

"James is fine," he said.

"Alright, James," I continued. "You don't know a woman named Margaret Finn, by any chance? She goes by Maggie. She's not Lutheran, but my mother probably would have sought out a priest if she were here."

"I'm sorry, I don't know her," The pastor said. "I'm not the only minister that survived, however. I wouldn't give up hope. Is that why Jonathan brought you to me?"

"Who is..." I started before realizing he meant Sergeant Tiller. "Right, Tiller. No, but it is the thing that is on my mind the most. Thank you, anyway."

"Uncle Jim," Tiller said. "I was hoping you could show Finn here the skill we talked about, the one from last week."

"I'm still not comfortable with all this," Pastor Belk said while shaking his head. "This skill... business." He spat the word 'skill' pausing after the word with a frown on his face.

"It still seems like sorcery, witchcraft, and the act of receiving power from any source outside of God doesn't sit right with me."

"Pastor Belk," I said. "James. There are real demons out there. I have seen them. I've fought them. Whatever this system is, whatever its source of power, I do know one thing. It can help us fight those things that are truly evil. It may be the only way to stay alive.