Chương 24: Chapter 23: False Angels

"It is not what you think it is. It is a statue of Orion. The Angel of Death, Orion." Erika's eyes widened. Micheal rubbed his chin and ogled the copper statue.

"I know who Orion is. And I can say for sure he doesn't have four arms. Nor does he look as ugly." Erika madly shook her head, her voice trembling.

"No, no. Orion from before. From before."

"From before? What in God's green earth are you talking about?" Micheal frowned.

"Orlan. Its name is Orlan," Austig spoke out.

"Honey, what are you—""Orlan was Orion's name before the Lady took him in. He was the Patron God of the lands of Southendell, where my wife's family came from," Austig continued. Orlan? I've never heard of that name. Micheal exchanged looks with Marco. Do you know that name, boy? he thought. Marco slowly shook his head without uttering a word.

"The Lady purified Orlan, remaking him into Orion. This statue, it is as blasphemous as a totem of the Vermilion King." Micheal stepped into the tiny room, noticing a pair of deep faded imprints on the velvet prayer mat and the impeccable gleam of the statue's copper skin. They've been taking care of it. They've been praying to it.

"You know this, do you not?" Erika gulped, her silence a clear answer.

"Then why do you still keep it here?" Micheal said.

"It belonged to my grandfather. Orlan has always watched over my family… I could not just… throw it away like a piece of trash. He is no Evil God. He is Death's Angel." Erika pressed her hands together and said. Micheal looked at her with an unreadable expression. In the corner of his eye, he saw Austig reaching for something in his back pocket, something long and gleaming like an old Western gun.

"Do not, Sir von Austig. I am as well prepared to handle fools as I am to handle spirits," Micheal said. Austig drew in a cold breath of air, his eyes gazing deep into Micheal's.

"What are you going to do to us?" Oh this is great. They're scared of me. I can get everything I need out of them.

"I could put you to death. Hell, I don't even need to call for the Church. I have reasonable motive to execute you both right here and right now. But… I doubt we'd both want that, do we?" Micheal leaned against the wall. Erika's face twisted into a macabre painting of fear and terror. Micheal walked in front of her, his hand still half tucked into his pocket.

"Tell me the truth. I know you are hiding something from me. From the Church. And I might consider sparing your lives," Micheal said.

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you." Erika grabbed Austig by the shoulder, pulling him back slightly.

"Good. Now speak. What did your son really see?" Micheal said.

"He saw the ghosts of my father and my siblings. They'd… they'd never have gone up to paradise, no. They remained here, bound to us, bound to him," Erika said. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Then that means… they were the ones the clergy purified. Austig took a step back, his eyes completely glued on Micheal.

"Did your grandfather have any relations to Southendell and this so-called Orlan?" Austig slowly shook his head.

"No. As far as I know, he never even set foot in Southendell." And he still married Erika. What love does to a person. It is as romantic as it is stupid.

"I need a strand of your hair and any clothes that your child might have worn. Now! Woman! Go!" Micheal yelled. Erika stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

"Now, as for you, Sir von Austig. Take a seat." Micheal gestured to an empty chair. Austig lowered himself into the chair, his expression still unsure.

"Are you aware of the magnitude of your crimes?" Micheal said.

"I am," Austig said.

"I will not report this to the clergy, no. Your family has proven itself a vital part of our society, and it would be simply a waste of time and effort," Micheal said. Austig took a breath of relief.

"Th… thank you, sir."

"However, you must dispose of that statue today. Replace it with a sculpture of Orion, if you must."

"My wife would not agree," Austig said.

"Convince her. It is blasphemous. And it is dangerous. Perhaps it is why that entity chose to visit your family in the first place."

"I will. I must." Austig nodded.

"I am glad we have come to an understanding." Micheal reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief.

"Maron. Rub this on the statue." Marco grabbed the handkerchief and wiped it against the statue's armpits, of all places. Micheal resisted the urge to scrunch his face. This boy, I swear.

"A strand of your hair, Sir," Micheal said. Austig grabbed a part of his hair and pulled until a single strand came off.

"Is this enough?"

"More than enough." Micheal grabbed the strand and ogled it for a few seconds. Soon enough, a set of loud footsteps rang from the corridor outside. Erika returned with a cotton shirt and a pair of linen pants.

"Put them on the table," Micheal said. Erika set them down.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"The names of your ghostly relatives, their bloodlines and generations. Speak, and my assistant will write it down. I will know if you lie."

"Just do it." Austig gritted his teeth.

"My father, Desmond Adler, he was an Eighth of the Beast bloodline. And my mother, Theresa, an Eighth of the Ghost. My two brothers, Edgar and Elliot, were of Father's blood. While I… I inherited my mother's."

"Are these their original names?" Micheal said.

"Yes… yes." Erika placed the clothes on the table.

"A strand of your hair, Madame." Micheal's voice lowered to a deathly low.

"Oh…" Erika plucked a long strand of her hair without hesitation.

"Please, we've done everything you wanted."

"Indeed you have. Marco—Maron. Pack everything up. Cleanly, this time," Micheal said. Marco clicked his tongue and collected the two strands of hair and the parchment, then rolled the cotton white shirt around them. Then he tucked it all inside his brown suitcase.

"When I leave, you must change this heathenry at once. If you do not change it, I will know, and it will not be me who comes here. Do you understand, Austigs?" Erika and Austig lowered their heads.

"Yes… sir."

"Thank you," Erika murmured.

"Do not thank me. Thank the Lord's mercy." Micheal grabbed his suitcase and walked out of the room with grace. Marco quickly followed after him, carrying his own belongings. The two of them moved out of the corridor, into the living room, and hurriedly made their way out the front door. Walking down the garden path and sensing the gazes of all the ghouls and the dead made Micheal's face burn a light shade of red. One of the ghouls opened the gate for them, even lowering its head as they walked past.

As they finally left the manor walls, a short chortle rang from Micheal's throat.

"That went better than I expected."

"You looked rather foolish back there." Marco chuckled.

"I did not. I made a rather excellent exorcist, if I say so myself." Micheal gazed over his shoulder, looking at the manor for one last time. But then, he spotted something looking out of a window on the second floor. It was an old man clad in a dark suit and a curved top hat, his hair pure white, and his eyes faded blue. And for a moment, he swore the old man looked straight at him.

"What the…" When he blinked, the figure vanished from sight.

"Something wrong, Sir Arthur?" Marco laughed teasingly.

"No… nothing." Micheal shook his head.

"Come on, it's time for us to go."