“Excuse me?” An elderly man in a wrinkled suit called out and tapped on the secretary's desk. An overweight woman barely younger than him glared from over the rim of her bronze coloured glasses. They both gazed at each other for several uncomfortable seconds. The man rolled his eyes and his shoulders simultaneously at her.

She sighed and in the most snarky way possible, she asked him, “Can I help you? Sir?”

“Yes.” He declared, his head bobbing up and down rapidly, eyes half shut. He snorted loudly and swayed his body back and forth as he spoke. “I'm 'ere to see Tom Bentley? The yeast?”

The secretary gave him a blank stare. “Do you mean the priest?”

“That's what I said. Ears don' work as well as they did do they?”

Another silent stare. The swaying man widened his eyes at her and fell forward with a slap as all his body weight fell on his toes. The woman cleared her throat and pointed towards a group of mounted chairs on the other side of the room. “Have a seat, I'll let you know in a moment if he's in any condition to see visitors.”

The man snorted again and forced a very deep smile that made him look like a chipmunk. “Cheers!” he hiccuped and pulled a flask out of his suit jacket as he walked away.

“Sir, this is a hospital.” She called out to him.

He stopped and turned his body slightly towards her. “Oh absolutely. Don't you worry though,” he yanked out a second one, “I brought one for him as well.” The secretary shook her head but said nothing more.

The man sat down beside a brown-haired child who looked up at him uncomfortably. He noticed and jumped like something had scared him. “Smith.” He told the boy and held out his hand towards him.

Confused, the boy slowly grasped Smith's hand. “Charlie.” He mumbled.

“What ar'ou in fer?”

Charlie hesitated. “Just a blood test. Are you in for a brain scan?”

Smith laughed. “No, no. On the con'rary, my mate as'ed me t'bring him his diary,” Snort! “While... while he's 'ere. He's a bit of a loopy one though if you know what I mean.”

“Right... He's the loopy one.”

“That's what I said! 's everybody in this 'ospital deaf or something?”

“Uh-huh... have fun then.” The child moved to another seat without taking his eyes off of Smith.

“Little rascal.” he coughed, then spat on the floor beside his seat.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I am Harry Burns and welcome back to the six o'clock news.” Smith leaned back, hitting his head off of the wall, barely able to make out two men on the hanging TV screen out of the corner of his eye. “I'm joined here tonight by Larry Roderick, a celebrated researcher from the Environmental Defence Association or EDA for short. With global warming and the threat of natural ecosystems dying off, we've asked him here to give us a quick rundown on the current findings and what we can expect going forward.” Harry turned to the second man. “Welcome, Larry.”

“Thank you.”

“Tell us, what is our immediate situation?”

“Well, the last recorded value of Carbon Dioxide in the Earth's atmosphere, taken from Mauna Loa Observatory in Hawaii, is four-hundred-thirteen parts per million, up from four-hundred-eleven part per million a year ago.”

“And what does that mean for us?”

“To put it simply, it means global warming is on the rise and life on Earth has its days numbered.”

“How many years do we expect to have left then?”

Larry shrugged his shoulders, kept a poker face and spoke in a monotone. “If humanity doesn't change, the planet will perish before the next century.”

Short pause. Harry stuttered when he spoke again but kept his voice booming. “What changes would humanity have to make in order to increase our time on Earth?”

“For starters, burn fewer fossil fuels, build a more efficient electrical grid and rely more on renewable power sources such as wind turbines or solar panels. Basically, replace any method that releases an exhaust with a method that instead has no degree of waste.”

“And that would save the planet?”

Larry slowly closed his eyes, shook his head and sighed, “No.”

Another pause. “Then what would happen if we stopped burning fossil fuels?”

“At this point in time, we'd extend our days on Earth maybe into the early decades of the next century. Had we implemented these changes ten or twenty years ago, then the planet might have been able to live its natural lifespan.”

“So you're saying the planet is already well beyond saving?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Does everybody in your field share this opinion?”

“Science isn't an opinion Harry.”

“Right...” Harry cleared his throat and scanned the room once. “What evidence do you have to support this claim?”

“Firstly, the current levels of Carbon Dioxide in the atmosphere. The last time the levels were this high, the oceans were twenty-four metres higher than they are now which would swallow eighty percent of the land occupied by the human population. Second, a list of the hottest years thus far was constructed recently. We took special note of the top ten where three years out of the last ten took three of the top five slots. To put that into perspective, someone born in the year two-thousand has never experienced a day in January as hot as someone born in the year nineteen-eighty has. Finally, we have the critical signs such as mass migration, a lack of food and drinking water, spread of disease, endless wildfires, storms that can level cities and blanket the earth in permanent darkness. We've noticed several species of animals trying to escape their natural habitat because it's becoming difficult for them to live there. The most prominent would have to be polar bears which are starting to dwindle and are threatened with extinction. A lack of drinking water and food in which Africa has been a victim too since I was a child. Spread of disease which just recently kick-started again in China and is quickly becoming an epidemic. A wildfire in Australia that burned for 4 months. I myself have even lost track of how many hurricanes have hit the United States alone just in the last two years though I believe it was at least ten, maybe even fifteen. The only sign we haven't seen yet is permanent darkness.”

“Assuming that you're correct and there's nothing we can do to fix the situation, what are our choices for after all is said and done?”

“Well, the simplest choice is to just live and let be, share the same fate as the planet we destroyed. Some have taken to researching methods of adapting to the predicted post-apocalyptic life or preparing to adapt to it. Others have accelerated their efforts into inhabiting another planet.”

“How likely is the third choice?”

“I wouldn't put much stock in it. Even if they do figure it out, the upper class will buy out all the tickets anyway. Middle and lower classes won't even be able to afford a spot, I'm sure.”

Harry scowled. “Is there anything at all you can think of to say to give us a reason to be optimistic?”

Larry shook his head. “Best I can do is laissez-faire. I would recommend getting your desires to travel out now though because it's going to become even more expensive in the next few years.”

“All right, let's move on to something a little less depressing. Thank you for coming in to talk to us today Larry.”

“It was my pleasure.” He responded dryly.

As the broadcast transitioned into the next story, Smith chuckled and fished a brass cross with a broken chain out of his pocket. “Gettin' ready to claim your dues and perform your final test are you? I must've missed the first trumpet then.”

“Mr. Smith?” A nurse called out as she walked around the corner. Smith jumped up, burped and waved at her while quickly shoving the cross back into his pocket. The corner of her mouth and her eye twitched as he approached her but she continued smiling and held out her hand. “I'm Rachel. I'll be escorting you to and accompanying you as you visit Father Thomas. We have concerns about his mental state though we don't believe that he is dangerous.”

“Oh, 'e must be... must be...” Smith shut his eyes tight and swayed backward when he opened them again. “He must be chatting about them d'mons again, yeah?”

Rachel turned around and walked at Smith's side, not allowing him to get behind her as they walked. “This must not be the first time he's been in a state like this. It's strange that he hasn't already been admitted to a psychiatric ward.”

“That'd be 'cause, las'time, 'e 'ad proof that... that they existed.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“'Appens. Them doctors who dun di'gnosed him before are now all in the asylum outside a town.”

“Right, of course. That makes them rather credible indeed. If you don't mind my asking, how does someone of your stature know Mr. Bentley? You don't strike me as the religious type.”

“Oh, Tom and I... Tom and I,” hiccup! “Tommy 'n I go way back, man. We grew up t'gether, wen' t'school t'gether, tried t'star' a band t'gether, our families died t'gether...”

Rachel's eye twitched again and she halted in place. “I'm sorry, could you repeat that last part again?”

Smith stopped and before answering, plopped down on a chair pushed against the wall of the hallway. He scratched at his yellowing beard with one hand while watching the ceiling. “We tried t'start a band together.”

“No, after that. About your families.”

“Families?” he closed his eyes and fell quiet.

“Mr. Smith?” She stepped closer to him and waved a hand in front of his face. The only response she got was soft snoring. She sighed and waved at the nearest security guard. “Can you stay close until this guy decides to leave?” He nodded at her and both of them glared at the sleeping man. “One struts through a hospital drunk off his ass and stinking of tobacco while the other preaches that he was attacked by a demon-”

“Stay back!” Smith yelled suddenly and threw himself to the floor. For a moment he flopped like a fish on his stomach then violently turned over, knocking the chair over in the process. He was bug-eyed from how wide he opened them and beads of sweat formed rapidly on his forehead. He scanned the room as he held himself up on his arms, noting the excess of hospital staff and passing patients eyeing him. Some clutched their chests, other squinted at him, the remainder chuckled and went back to what they were doing. Smith finally looked up at Rachel, who had one eyebrow raised and her mouth half-open. He laughed silently at first and didn't start making noise until his head hit the floor. “It's just you...”

The nurse and the security guard exchanged glances. “I'm going to need at least someone else with me.” The guard exclaimed and reached for his radio.

“Request at least two more please.” Rachel agreed.

* * *

“You're not lookin' too chipper this mornin' Tommy.” Smith commented as he sat down at the foot of Thomas's bed.

“Nice to see you too.” He replied tiredly.

“Fancy a drink?”

Thomas peered at the nurse and team of security guards watching from the doorway. “Your ability to read the room gets worse every time I see you.”

Smith shrugged his shoulders. “More fer me.” He pulled out his second flask, removed the lid and proceeded to down all of its contents in one go while his audience stared in quiet disapproval.

“I was going to ask you to convince them that I'm not crazy-”

Smith interrupted him with a long and loud belch, then blinked three times in rapid succession. “Tastes like bacon.” The crowd stared and Smith shook the silent flask, affirming that it was indeed empty. “Was supposed to be cucumber and spinach that.”

“-but it seems like that would only make matters worse.”

“We're just waiting on the paperwork to try and get him evaluated now.” The nurse said as she tightened the grip on her clipboard, all traces of a smile wiped from her face.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Before both of us get put in a straight jacket did you bring what I asked you to bring?”

“Hm? What? I's s'pposed to bring somethin'?”

“Useless twat.”

“I don't think I've ever heard a priest say 'twat' before.” One of the guards commented.

“You'll hear a lot of things you'd never hear a priest say if you stick around.” He turned his attention back to Smith who had started trying to balance the flask on his forehead. “The journal. Did you bring the journal?”

“The fuck you want-” The flask dropped to the floor with a clang. Smith immediately squatted down to pick it up, farted, then fell backward. Without getting back up he finished his sentence. “A urinal? The fuck you want a urinal fer?”

“Journal you fuck!”

“This is one of the more entertaining non-life threatening exchanges I've seen since I began working here.” Another guard chuckled. “I've now heard a priest say 'twat' and 'fuck' in a span of ten seconds.”

“Did. You. Grab. The. Journal?”

“The journal?”

“The journal!”

“I,” hiccup! “I don'... maybe?” Smith reached into his jacket once more and pulled out a third flask. Everyone in the room groaned as he inspected it. He removed its cap and held it over his head to look inside, flinching as tequila poured out into his eye. He swung the flask away from him, showering the priest in alcohol.

“You bloody bellend...” Thomas growled and lifted the blanket up as a shield with his good arm.

The last security guard tapped Rachel on the shoulder. “Write that one down. I haven't heard that in a long time.”

Smith dropped the third flask, reached into his jacket yet again where something squeaked. The next thing he pulled out was a rubber chicken. Thomas shook his head, “Of all the things you could be carrying...”

Smith snorted and glared at Thomas, suddenly turning very serious. “It's a gift, you whore.”

The audience erupted into soft laughter only to be silenced by someone clearing their throat behind them. They all jumped in surprise and turned to see the Chief of Police standing in the middle of the hallway. The lot of them moved aside and he entered the now awkward room. “Father Thomas, I wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Who's this horse's... horse's vagina?” Smith stuttered.

“Smith, I'm not in the mood to read you your last rites at the moment.”

Officer Kent pointed at the drunk and asked Thomas, “This guy bothering you?”

“Kind of but not in the way you're thinking. He doesn't look like it but he's useful. Sometimes. I asked him to grab something for me. Problem is I forgot that he couldn't tell a crocodile from a gecko.”

Smith swung the rubber chicken around yelling, “I do too know the difference between a crooked dildo and a... and a... uh... Ow!” When he brought the rubber bird back towards his body, a leatherback book flew out of an incision in the toy's stomach and hit him below the nose before falling to the floor.

Kent pushed Smith out of the way and grabbed the journal, examining its back and cover. He then held it out towards Thomas, “This what you were looking for?”

“Yes! Yes, please give it to me before that mongoloid tries to store it in a real chicken.”

Kent ignored any further provocations from Smith and approached Thomas, dragging a chair over at the same time. He handed over the journal then looked over his shoulder at the hospital staff. “Could y'all give us a minute?” They all exchanged glances but stepped out of the room without protest, lightly closing the door behind them. Kent pushed the back of the chair against Thomas's bed and sat on it, his arms crossed. “I want to know everything you know about this girl who took my son from me.”

Thomas held the journal in his hands, stroking its spine and putting a finger behind its cover though he didn't open it. “I don't know much about her. I've only met her the one time. All I really learned was that she's vulnerable to bestia nocuit and possessed by a demon.” Kent watched him intently. “You think I'm crazy too, don't you?”

The Police Chief shook his head. “Whatever killed my son wasn't natural. Autopsy proved that he wasn't poisoned nor did he have any injuries. The only bleeding we could find was from his head and when they took x-rays, it was almost like someone had reached into his skull and pulled his brain apart. If one of these doctors can tell me what can do that without damaging the skull, I'll take their side. Until then, you seem to be the only person with any degree of confidence in stating what exactly became of Andy.”

“Good t'ing,” Burp! “Good t'ing i's not 'r first rodeo.” Smith called out as he reached for the third flask again.

Kent glared over his shoulder at the drunk. “Who the hell is this guy?”

Thomas rolled his eyes and exhaled. “Up until now, he was the only person in the world who actually believed me when I said I could see demons. We grew up together. Now neither of us has any family left. As hard as it is for me to admit it, I've relied on him a lot this past thirty years, and he's relied on me even more.”

The Chief stayed quiet for a moment then finally pointed at the journal. “What's with the diary?”

Thomas opened it up, revealing pages full of scribbled notes in a language Kent didn't recognize. Sometimes there were diagrams of humans or humanoid type creatures with underlined mentions pointing at specific points on the bodies. Every now and again He would see rough English translations written over top of the notes, most prominent on a page with a diagram of a flower. “This book is our only weapon against the demons as they walk the Earth. It underlines how to grow bestia nocuit which wards them away as well as...” He thumbed through several pages, “It gives notes on every discovered type of demon or monster humanity's ancestors ever encountered. Some no more dangerous than a simple cobra, others capable of levelling entire cities with a snap of their fingers. Like these two for example...” He held the journal up to Kent, already open to an entry with bold, cursive writing simply stating, “DANGER”.

The Chief took the journal in hand and started reading aloud. “The Cursed Sentinel and the Harbinger. Real names are unknown. Affinities are unknown. Said to be weak to Bestia Nocuit and silver however this theory has not yet been tested. They're rumoured to be a pair of unaffiliated mercenaries who never failed a job. Most who witnessed their skills often didn't live to tell the tale, allied or not. Caution is advised. Never engage them in head to head combat or alone. Recommend an army of ten-thousand strong if fighting them separately. If they are together, chances of winning would undoubtedly be zero.” Kent looked up from the journal. “What is all this exactly?”

Thomas gently took it from his hands and started to explain. “Many, many years ago, humans and demons shared this Earth. As to be expected though, they had issues. The demons often disrupted the daily activities of the human empire. They destroyed farmland, property, took whatever they wanted. At times they dragged innocents into their forest; very few survived the ordeal and those that did were traumatized and left in conditions I can only imagine being similar to Smith here. In time, humans waged war against the beasts. This journal, a direct recording from a royal alchemist, kept track of everything to do with the demons, before and during the war, that he knew about. He speaks of the conflict's progress, its turning points, where things went well and where things went wrong. In the end however, it concludes prematurely. The very last entry states that the demons were almost wiped out while the Sentinel and the Harbinger were away. The records halt immediately after the alchemist stated that the pair had joined the fighting.”

“So you think we can determine how to remove them by cross-referencing with the history recorded in this book?”

Thomas nodded.

Kent stared at him then slowly bobbed his head up and down. “I've got my guys looking into that girl, Luna Cathasaigh, now. A few days from now, we should know everything that the city knows about her.”

“One of the doctors here caught my attention as well, the same one that treated your son. I can't think of her name off the top of my head.”

Kent held a finger up towards the priest and called out into the hallway. Rachel poked her head back into the room. “An extreme case came in here the other day, a boy named Andy. I'd like to talk to the doctor who saw him so I can ask if he told her anything before he passed.”

“You mean Aileen? She's been handling a lot of the really bad cases since she came here. Blonde, very beautiful?”

“That sounds like her.” As they spoke, Thomas straightened up when he heard her name, then started flipping through the journal.

“I believe she called in sick today. The first time a doctor can't save a patient is really hard. Since she's had such an amazing track record, she must be having an especially difficult time with it. She may be back in tomorrow though.”

Kent nodded. “Thanks for the information. You can wait outside again.” He turned back to Thomas. “You looked like you remembered something important.”

“More or less. I can only hope that I'm wrong though. Smith, did you notice anything out of the ordinary when you went to grab this?”

“Hm? Not really. There was this, like, blackbird that seemed to like me. It kept following me around everywhere and watching me.”

“Was it a Raven by chance?”

“Maybe? They'll look the same t'me, man.”

“What does a Raven have to do with any of this?” Kent asked.

“That doctor, Aileen, when I passed her the other day, was affected by the bestia nocuit. She also had a giant dove perched on her shoulder.”

“We were talking about Ravens I thought?”

“I'm getting to that. I followed her sometime after she left here. When she stopped, I saw a black-haired girl who also appeared to be affected by the bestia nocuit. Next thing I knew this incredibly pale man showed up out of nowhere and steered me away, freezing my flower and my arm to boot. They're all connected somehow.”

“Right. So the birds? How do they fit into the equation?”

Thomas stayed quiet for a moment longer until he stopped flipping through pages and started to read. “A mysterious doctor once showed up in a plagued town south of the capital. Despite the royal physicians saying that the affliction was incurable, she had the entire town back to full health in a matter of days. Locals said she called herself Aileen but was secretive. Any time someone asked her where she was from or how she cured her patients, she would dodge the question.”

He slid his finger down the page, continuing onto the next paragraph. “Locals have begun gossiping that the Cursed Sentinel arrived at their town today, with the Harbinger and a black-haired girl in tow. They spoke to the mysterious doctor for several hours. The next morning, she bid the town farewell and left with the demons. Any encounters with the mercenaries going forward, the survivors indicated that they are now a four-person team: The Sentinel, the Harbinger, the Dove and the Raven.” Thomas looked up from the journal. “It can't be a coincidence.”

Kent leaned back in his chair, careful not to fall off. “Luna, Aileen and one more...” He pulled a note pad out of his breast pocket. “Tell me the address that our mysterious doctor went to the other day.”