Chapter Fifteen #2
One of them was an elderly man in black clothing, a thick winter coat, and a celluloid collar.
He moved calmly and carefully, and while he had more wrinkles and less hair than the last time I’d seen him, his eyes were still bright, clear, and robin’s-egg blue behind his spectacles.
I hadn’t seen Father Forthill recently, but the old priest was one of the kinder people I knew.
Next to him was an even more elderly man with a bushy beard. He wore a shawl and a yarmulke and carried what looked like a long, twisting animal horn on a baldric over one shoulder, and I suddenly realized what that horn call had been. It was a shofar, a traditional Jewish instrument.
Bringing up the rear, by virtue of walking while heavily leaning on a cane, was Michael Carpenter in his usual jeans and flannel shirt under his sheepskin jacket. He hitched his way up to us, grinning broadly at me. “Thank God,” he said with relief. “I thought we were going to be too late.”
I felt myself smile back at him and offered him my hand. “Timing,” I said.
We shook and Michael nodded to the other two men. “Harry, you know Father Forthill. This is Rabbi Aaronson.”
The medic poured something over my jawline and the area tingled and vanished into the vague staticky sensation I felt now instead of pain, ever since donning the mantle of the Winter Knight. I didn’t flinch. “Rabbi,” I said. “That’s a real shofar, huh?”
“Obviously,” the old man said, squinting around skeptically. “And I’m a real rabbi and I forgot how hard they are to blow. My lips are still buzzing like bees. But those ghouls liked it even less, I think. Did anyone bring coffee?”
“I’ll make you some at St. Mary’s,” Forthill assured him.
“Save the day, not even a coffee,” Aaronson said. “Typical. Typical.”
“What the he…heck, Michael?” I asked. I was still shaking from the battle, but my heart rate had begun to come down. “Did you reactivate the Knights Templar or something?”
Michael shook his head. “The Brotherhood of St. Brigid,” he said quietly. “It’s, ah. A bit of an ad hoc organization, formed when there’s a need to battle rampant darkness.”
“You didn’t expect the church to do nothing in the face of what’s happened, did you, Harry?” Forthill asked gently.
“Mostly,” I said. “I mean. I know you’re feeding and sheltering a lot of people, but I figured that would be it.”
Daniel snorted. “Ghouls are hunting women and children in my hometown,” he said. “Plenty of us came out to do something about it. And this block is where the most people have gone missing over the past week, so…”
“So you figured the same as we did,” I said.
“Looks like,” Daniel said amiably. “Hey, Fitz, right? You’ve grown. Good job getting clear when you did.”
Fitz looked at me, his expression uncertain, and I nodded. “Yep. That was definitely too hairy a situation to be distracted looking out for anyone else. You listened. Good job.”
Fitz exhaled slowly and nodded, frowning. “Yeah, well.” He shook Daniel’s hand a little uncomfortably. “Hey, man. Glad you were here.”
I wasn’t too upset that Daniel and the Brotherhood had shown up, either. That had been a much nastier fight than I had expected.
“You realize,” Bear said quietly, “that someone tipped them off. Coordinated them. They were all there for you.”
“Yeah,” I said. “LaChaise, maybe. Upside is, we got a whole bunch of them at once. And enough of them got away to spread the word that we’re not kidding around when we say ‘get out.’ Glass half-full.”
“I’m just glad the glass didn’t get shattered to sand,” she said wryly. Bear rose and let the medic work on me. She eyed Daniel and nodded to him after a long look.
Bear extended her hand. “I’m Bear. It’s an honor. Nice to see the Brotherhood in the fight.”
Daniel shook her hand and frowned faintly at her. “Valkyrie?”
“Right now, bodyguard,” she said and hooked a thumb at me. “Thanks to you and your people.”
“Michael,” I said, wincing at the smell as the disinfectant went over my skull. “You were going ghoul hunting and you didn’t invite me?”
Michael looked amused. “I know it’s hard for you to picture it, Harry, but evil often needs to be fought even when you aren’t consulted.” He considered and then added, “And I might say the very same thing to you.”
I snorted. “I didn’t know you were forming a militia.” The shakes were subsiding slowly. I bowed my head and said, more quietly, “Thank you.”
“Thank Daniel,” he said firmly. “The only reason I’m here at all is because I was watching the fights with Father Forthill and the rabbi when the Brotherhood came to get them.”
“And here we are,” Aaronson said grumpily, consulting a pocket watch, “missing the title bout.”
“You’ll get to see a fight if you keep up the complaining, you goat,” Forthill said.
“Not on your best day, Irishman,” Aaronson retorted. “I’ll turn all four of your cheeks for you if you try it.”
Daniel hunkered down next to me, grinning at the two old men.
“Point is, Harry,” he said. “I heard things were getting bad up here, so I came home to help. A lot of us did.” He tilted his head generally at the other men in crosses.
“I know I’ve screwed some things up in the past. But I’ve been working on being less stupid.
” He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently.
Exactly like his father had so many times before.
“We’re here to help,” he said.
Four words. None of them long.
The truly important words never are.
I bowed my head before I started crying.
“Thank you,” I told him.