Bela Talbot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
enjoythe_ride) wrote2010-02-05 09:56 am
enjoythe_ride) wrote2010-02-05 09:56 am
[TM] What does your future look like?
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swallow_thelies.]
Her life had been packed, stuffed and sealed away into boxes.
She had been missing for over a year. No word, no sign of life—everyone presumed she was dead. All the signs seemed to point to it as well—her car, abandoned at a motel in Pennsylvania, no body, no movement in her bank accounts aside from automatic payments she had set up—so she wasn’t surprised when that was the assumption the people that knew her had made.
That’s why there weren’t any hard feelings when she found out that most of her stuff had been packed away, placed in a storage facility for safe keeping. As she rolled up the garage door of the storage facility, she couldn’t help but be amazed at how little it was reduced to, even if she was fairly certain that this wasn’t all of it. It was what she got for having a friend who used to be a priest. Then again, she should be thankful that he was there to even take care of her stuff at all.
***
“You know, Bela, I was pretty sure there was something haunting me when you picked up the phone,” Jason sighed as he settled into the seat at the table across from her. They were sitting in her apartment, but it was much sparser than she remembered. A lot of her furniture and personal pieces were gone, mostly because she knew that he had put it up for sale. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
“Some things changed, and my deal was renegotiated,” she smirked, taking a sip of her tea. “However, things got a little complicated and I couldn’t contact you. I’m sorry for that.”
“Don’t be,” Jason shook his head. “I’ve been really enjoying your place.”
She grinned. “Wasn’t there a vow of poverty in there somewhere, Father Rogan?”
“Now you can see why I failed at being a priest,” he smirked. “Besides, I’m only living in it because I haven’t managed to sell it. Bad economy and all.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’d liked to take it back, if at all possible.”
“Of course,” he reached across the table and squeezed her hand lightly. “If you do a job for me.” She raised an eyebrow at that, and he gave her a grin. “What, you’re not doing that anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Look, I took care of all your affairs while you were gone. I tried to sell your place. I made sure all of the not so kosher stuff in your place was never found, made sure your finances stayed in shape—I think you owe me.”
“You gave my clothing away to charity.” Coming home to an empty closet had not been among the high points of her day.
He paused. “Okay. Maybe you don’t owe me for that. But everything else, I think I’ve earned a job pro-bono.”
She laughed softly, before nodding. “What’s the job?”
“I got a call from a friend who’s a priest at St. Benedict’s, up in Boston. He’s in a bit of a jam and he thinks one of the church relics may be cursed.”
“Have you researched it?”
“It definitely has some merit. The chalice—”
“It’s a cursed chalice?”
“Will you let me finish?” he smirked. “The chalice has been linked to multiple mysterious deaths in, not only this parish but several others over the years. According to my sources, it may have been stolen and used in some kind of dark ritual—”
“Thus negating the properties of consecration,” she nodded. “Interesting. Why doesn’t your friend just take this to his pastor?”
“He did, and he managed to get the chalice taken out of regular circulation, but it hasn’t stopped the deaths. The thing needs to be destroyed.”
“Why hasn’t it been? If they’re aware of what it’s doing—”
“The priest who actually owns the chalice won’t allow it. Which makes me think—”
“He’s the one who corrupted it in the first place.”
“Exactly.”
“So you want me to steal it and destroy it,” she nodded. “Sounds easy enough. Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Because I’m not a thief,” he replied simply. “I’ll help you with the ritual, but I won’t help you steal in a church. No matter what it’s for.”
Bela nodded. “You know, I really don’t know why you left, Jason.”
He gave her a small smirk. “Sometimes, neither do I.”
***
She made her way through the boxes, looking for the things she’d need for her upcoming job, but she couldn’t keep herself from stopping and pulling out certain pieces, considering the memories for a moment. She didn’t have many things that were sentimental, purely for memory’s sake, but they were there. Parts of her past that she was never going to be able to change or redo. There was some regret there—not trusting people she should have, hurting some that she shouldn’t—but in the end, it all came down to this. To surviving, and being there to start planning her future again.
It was possible that that thought was both daunting and exhilarating, all at the same time.
864 words
swallow_thelies.]Her life had been packed, stuffed and sealed away into boxes.
She had been missing for over a year. No word, no sign of life—everyone presumed she was dead. All the signs seemed to point to it as well—her car, abandoned at a motel in Pennsylvania, no body, no movement in her bank accounts aside from automatic payments she had set up—so she wasn’t surprised when that was the assumption the people that knew her had made.
That’s why there weren’t any hard feelings when she found out that most of her stuff had been packed away, placed in a storage facility for safe keeping. As she rolled up the garage door of the storage facility, she couldn’t help but be amazed at how little it was reduced to, even if she was fairly certain that this wasn’t all of it. It was what she got for having a friend who used to be a priest. Then again, she should be thankful that he was there to even take care of her stuff at all.
***
“You know, Bela, I was pretty sure there was something haunting me when you picked up the phone,” Jason sighed as he settled into the seat at the table across from her. They were sitting in her apartment, but it was much sparser than she remembered. A lot of her furniture and personal pieces were gone, mostly because she knew that he had put it up for sale. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
“Some things changed, and my deal was renegotiated,” she smirked, taking a sip of her tea. “However, things got a little complicated and I couldn’t contact you. I’m sorry for that.”
“Don’t be,” Jason shook his head. “I’ve been really enjoying your place.”
She grinned. “Wasn’t there a vow of poverty in there somewhere, Father Rogan?”
“Now you can see why I failed at being a priest,” he smirked. “Besides, I’m only living in it because I haven’t managed to sell it. Bad economy and all.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’d liked to take it back, if at all possible.”
“Of course,” he reached across the table and squeezed her hand lightly. “If you do a job for me.” She raised an eyebrow at that, and he gave her a grin. “What, you’re not doing that anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Look, I took care of all your affairs while you were gone. I tried to sell your place. I made sure all of the not so kosher stuff in your place was never found, made sure your finances stayed in shape—I think you owe me.”
“You gave my clothing away to charity.” Coming home to an empty closet had not been among the high points of her day.
He paused. “Okay. Maybe you don’t owe me for that. But everything else, I think I’ve earned a job pro-bono.”
She laughed softly, before nodding. “What’s the job?”
“I got a call from a friend who’s a priest at St. Benedict’s, up in Boston. He’s in a bit of a jam and he thinks one of the church relics may be cursed.”
“Have you researched it?”
“It definitely has some merit. The chalice—”
“It’s a cursed chalice?”
“Will you let me finish?” he smirked. “The chalice has been linked to multiple mysterious deaths in, not only this parish but several others over the years. According to my sources, it may have been stolen and used in some kind of dark ritual—”
“Thus negating the properties of consecration,” she nodded. “Interesting. Why doesn’t your friend just take this to his pastor?”
“He did, and he managed to get the chalice taken out of regular circulation, but it hasn’t stopped the deaths. The thing needs to be destroyed.”
“Why hasn’t it been? If they’re aware of what it’s doing—”
“The priest who actually owns the chalice won’t allow it. Which makes me think—”
“He’s the one who corrupted it in the first place.”
“Exactly.”
“So you want me to steal it and destroy it,” she nodded. “Sounds easy enough. Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Because I’m not a thief,” he replied simply. “I’ll help you with the ritual, but I won’t help you steal in a church. No matter what it’s for.”
Bela nodded. “You know, I really don’t know why you left, Jason.”
He gave her a small smirk. “Sometimes, neither do I.”
***
She made her way through the boxes, looking for the things she’d need for her upcoming job, but she couldn’t keep herself from stopping and pulling out certain pieces, considering the memories for a moment. She didn’t have many things that were sentimental, purely for memory’s sake, but they were there. Parts of her past that she was never going to be able to change or redo. There was some regret there—not trusting people she should have, hurting some that she shouldn’t—but in the end, it all came down to this. To surviving, and being there to start planning her future again.
It was possible that that thought was both daunting and exhilarating, all at the same time.
864 words