The picture he took wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worst either. I was holding his phone, staring down at it like there were hidden secrets to unravel. But I had a scrunched-up expression on my face.
To him, the bawling demon enhanced the picture, but to me, not quite. There was me—black falling hair, slightly oval face, sharp nose and pointy ears. And there was him—black hair, slightly spiky, deep black irises, and a very sharp gaze that went well with his accentuated aesthetics. Especially his well shaped jawline.
It was a good picture. Rather it would have been, if not for the third party that was included.
"Urmm..Father Azrael.." I complained, gesturing at the phone. "What's the demon for?"
I refused to believe that such an horrid sight made the picture better in his eyes. There was no way he genuinely thought so.
Father Azrael smiled and took the phone from my outstretched arm. Then he took a good long stare at the picture, before showing it back to me.
"Evidence." He answered, using his index finger to mark out the position of the demon.
My eyes lit up in understanding, but the glint suddenly went off in disapproval. "But…shouldn't you use notes instead?"
As a trainer overseeing a trainee's first exorcism, the practice was to take notes of whatever I did, highlighting my possible strengths and weaknesses. This would then be used by the Academy to decide whether or not I was fit to be an exorcist, and would also serve as proof that my exorcism actually happened.
I didn't see a pen in his hands, talkless of notes.
"Well…" Father Azrael mumbled, his voice sounding comical. "This is undeniable evidence."
Sigh…
"I…understand." I concluded, knowing there was no point starting an argument I couldn't win. I couldn't say I was surprised either. Father Azrael was kinda lazy, and he rarely wore his cassock.
Wait! Did he ever wear it?
I was contemplating matters with myself, trying to recall a memory of him in cassock, all to no avail. Then suddenly, Father Azrael froze, his eyes fixed on a certain detail in the picture.
I was bamboozled, having no idea about what gripped him all of a sudden. But without saying a word, Father Azrael came even closer to me and began to circle around my position.
And I stood in place, still much confused.
"What…." He muttered, his voice sounding from a little proximity to my ears. "....happened to you?"
What was he talking about?
Should I be scared?
I didn't know how to feel, since I had no clue of what he meant.
Then it struck me.
Ah.
My previous haircut was still there. Somewhere behind the centre of my scalp, was a fresh, but rough bald spot.
"Pfft!"
I heard what sounded like muffled laughter behind me. Immediately I turned around, seeing Father Azrael with a reddened countenance, constraining every muscle on his face.
He wanted to laugh, but probably in consideration of my feelings, he held it in.
As if his expression wasn't spitting the obvious truth in my face.
Seeing the embarrassment that displayed itself on my face, he couldn't suppress his humour any more. And he surrendered to it.
"Pahahaa….haaa!" He laughed without holding back, pointing fingers whilst staggering backwards.
He looked like a drunk man that had suddenly discovered a good joke. And I looked like that one guy placed in the spotlight against his will, with no option but to beg the earth to swallow him up. I stared at him as he kept on exploding into short but consecutive bursts of laughter, his face reddened to the point that he seemed like he was getting strangled.
Then perhaps as a defence mechanism, I weakly raised my hand and covered my bald spot with my palm. But it only made me feel worse as he would laugh even harder, going on to jest at me.
"Wow!" He exclaimed, managing to squeeze words through his 'humor-clogged' throat. "You really subdued that demon…"
"Inexperience." I muttered, trying to defend myself. Nevertheless, he was not backing down for a second.
"Yeah I get it.." he guffawed, nearly convulsing from his jest. "You dominated the demon so much, you made it your barber."
"...."
"PAHAHAHA….HAA…!"
Stop.
Please stop.
I turned around and feigned walking away when Father Azrael suddenly halted me, forcing himself to digest his jokes. "Wait, I'm sorry.."
I stopped in my tracks, not saying a word. But he was persistent.
"I'm sorry. I promise."
I turned back to look, but his face betrayed his words.
He was literally shaking, and there were veins bulging on his forehead. I was convinced that if I moved just an inch more, he would erupt into even more laughter.
Sigh….
He's hopeless.
It took an awfully long while, but after several failed attempts at comporting himself, he managed to swallow his humour.
He straightened his shoulders and reclaimed his calm demeanor, his eyes becoming stern at once. "This will affect your scores, you know?"
…
"But..!"
"No buts." He retorted, cutting me off. "Surely your case was special, since you met a second stage demon..."
His eyes wandered off, settling on the 'thing' that had vaporised to nothing but a speck. "But I'm afraid there are no rules to make up for that. Your hair loss counts as sustainment of physical harm."
I couldn't argue. He was right.
…
Wait! I could.
"But…!" I suddenly yelled, with confidence brimming in my voice. "You didn't tell me what to expect."
Father Azrael titled his head to the right, folding his arms as he urged me to continue. And of course I did.
"I don't remember what rule it was, but I know one said that trainers must brief their trainees first on the nature of the opposition."
"Hmm.." he nodded, as if agreeing with me. Then to my horror, he sharply justified himself.
"In response to that, you did tell me by yourself what type of demon it was. To which I awarded 100 points. Did I not?"
….
"But that doesn't count as briefing." I retaliated, refusing to give up. "Also, how would you prove it? I have no notes containing data about the demon."
Usually, briefing worked by granting notes that contained vital information about the opposition to the trainee. Obviously, Father Azrael had done no such thing. He just said 'Go end its career' with a big wide smile on his face.
At that moment, I smiled, knowing he had no defence anymore. I had won this one.
Yup…I was wrong.
Father Azrael fiddled with his phone a little bit and clicked something on the screen. He said not a single word. The evidence spoke by itself.
It was a recording of me telling the characteristics of the demon, and him responding with the most jovial, yet dreaded '100 points.'
But….
"But…" I said weakly. "...they won't accept that as evidence, right?"
Right?
Father Azrael remained silent and simply walked up to me with a victorious smile, tapping my shoulder with his palm. "I'm afraid they will.." he replied. "It's not my first time unfortunately."
Ah!
Did that imply that I was finished? Cooked beyond saving?
Did I…fail then?
As if hearing my thoughts, Father Azrael softened his gaze and replaced his smug smile with a hearty one. "Don't worry. You definitely won't fail."
Then walking away he continued "I promise."
AH!
'I promise' actually made me feel worse. Ironically, each time he said that, it was even harder to believe him. But I guess…somehow, in some way, he always fulfilled his promises.
Nearly always.
Father Azrael pushed his hands into his hoodie pocket and drew out a cross. It was a golden cross—but much larger and refined than mine.
And…much heavier. I could tell by the bulge on his forearms.
Now that I thought about it, it was a strange phenomenon. Whenever I wasn't in contact with my cross, it would have its normal, portable weight.
But the moment I even touched it, it would drastically double in weight. It made me wonder how heavy Father Azrael's cross was, and whether I could carry it.
Effortlessly, he raised his cross up high. And using the tail of the cross, began to gesture as if inscribing something on the air.
Then immediately, blue light—much radiant and sharper than mine escaped the glow of the cross, forming a streak as he moved it.
He drew a circle in space. Not around himself, but before him. A vertical circle—as large as a door.
By memory, I knew it was time to leave.
"But what about the man?" I asked, pointing at the person who slept peacefully, undisturbed by everything that had transpired.
Father Azrael's eyes lingered on the book I had seized from the victim, before he answered my question. "We've done our part. The Missionaries would take it from here."
"Missionaries?" I enquired, raising an eyebrow.
"I'd explain later." He answered. "You have the book, so we move."
The circle in space shone even brighter, momentarily enveloping my sight in white light. Yet he stood there, the opacity of his frame contrasting the light.
When it subsided, what I saw was not a door. It was a…portal.
I could see a different place through the circle, as if someone had copy pasted another location in the space before me.
It was not my first time seeing it, as we often used this to transport ourselves in and out of the 'Sanctuary' during my training. Yet, it appeared just as enthralling as it was to me the first time I saw it.
"Let's go.." he said. "...to the Sanctuary."