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10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house:...nor any thing that is his
Marcus Keane was irritating. Tomás had known this the first time he met him, but he'd never truly appreciated it until now, three months into their unsanctioned road trip across the continent, visiting all the demonic hot spots Bennett sent their way.
He gave half-answers to Tomás' questions or turned them around. He never asked Tomás what he wanted to listen to on the radio during those long hours behind the wheel. He wore his shoes on the bed, which wasn't technically impolite but set Tomás' teeth on edge. There were half a dozen more things he did that irritated Tomás, the result of long years of working and traveling alone.
All that, Tomás could ignore, or say something to Marcus about. But there was no ignoring that Marcus was a terrible teacher.
“Again!” Marcus barked. They were going over the ritual he'd learned from Mother Bernadette, and had been for over two hours. Tomás was tired.
“Holy Mary,” he started. “Holy Mother of God. Mother of the Church. Mother of-”
“You're saying the words, Tomás, but that's all you're doing,” interrupted Marcus. “You have to believe them.”
“I do!” Tomás clenched his fists and tried to bite back his anger. “I do believe them, but it's been hours and I don't see-”
“Oh, it's been hours? An exorcism takes longer than that, remember? Or are you so confident now, with two successes, that you think you can do it in no time at all?”
“I remember,” Tomás replied, as evenly as he could. “And if this was a real exorcism I wouldn't care how long it took; I'd say the words, I'd believe the words, until my voice gave out. But Marcus, this isn't a real exorcism.” He gestured at the shabby motel room they were sitting in. “This is just...repetition. I don't see the point.”
“That's what our job is- ritual and repetition. You don't have to understand,” said Marcus. “You just have to listen and learn. This is how it's done, Tomás.”
It always came back to that, and Tomás didn't know how to make Marcus understand that it wasn't good enough. This is how it's done might work for the scared child Marcus had been, but Tomás was a grown man. He didn't need all the answers; he understood faith just as well as Marcus, but he wanted to be met halfway.
“Well, why don't you show me, then?” Tomás snapped, his fists clenched. “Since you know everything, why don't you show me how I'm supposed to do it?
Marcus sighed. Then he closed his eyes and began the litany.
Tomás always forgot what Marcus was like when he prayed. Despite all their time together, despite the exorcisms they'd performed together (two, now; three if you counted Casey and Angela separately), it wasn't something he'd had the opportunity to observe very often. All the doubts and fears Marcus had about his place in God's plan, in the Church, in life, seemed to fall away as he prayed, leaving nothing but fervid belief. With the yellow light of the wall sconce behind his head, the look on his face reminded Tomas of paintings of saints- that mixture of suffering and joy.
Tomás wanted that feeling for himself, the strength of belief that Marcus had even now. He wanted that surety that God was listening, that all-consuming faith he'd always professed to have. Even though he'd seen His face at last, felt His presence, he still felt his prayers were shadows compared to Marcus'. To have that confidence, to have that mixture of faith and knowledge, to be the better priest, the better exorcist, for once, he wanted that so badly it hurt.
And to have that look turned on him...
Marcus broke off his recitation.
“You need to be able to say the words in your sleep, to say them no matter what, and to mean them every time,” he said. “No matter what, you can't let the demon dig in any deeper than it already is. Now, do you think we can try again?”
Tomás took a breath.
“All right.”
9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.
“There's a rumor going around that you've been possessed, Marcus,” Bennett said. “Integrated. That's why you lost Gabriel and went after Pope Sebastian.”
“I saved Pope Sebastian!” Marcus protested. Tomás made a shushing noise, looking around them. He and Marcus sat at a wooden table, with a child's birthday party happening on the other side of the picnicking area. The birthday boy's mother had already cast a doubtful look their way, and they didn't need any more attention.
“I don't think anyone believes the rumor,” replied Bennett from the burner phone on the table between Tomás and Marcus. “Not anyone who's met you, at any rate. But the fact that it exists, even after you've been excommunicated...they think you're still a threat. I'm not sure whether or not that's a good thing.”
“I'll take it as a compliment,” said Marcus.
“I'm more concerned that I haven't heard anything about Tomás,” Bennett continued. “If the demons are trying to discredit you, why aren't they trying to discredit him, too?”
Tomás was surprised at the pang of disappointment he felt at being left out.
“Maybe they just don't think of him as a threat?” Marcus asked lightly, giving Tomás a wink to soften the sting. It half worked.
“If so, they'll learn they're wrong,” he replied.
“I can only hope it's something as simple as the demons underestimating you, Tomás,” Bennett said. “I have to go now. You remember the address I gave you?”
“183 Maple Wood Ave, Versailles, Missouri,” Tomás recited.
“Good.” Bennett hung up, as he always did, without a goodbye.
Marcus and Tomás sat at the table quietly for a moment, thinking over everything Bennett had told them, and what their next steps should be.
“What do you think the demons are up to?” Tomás asked.
Marcus sighed and ran a hand over his head.
“I dunno. Nothing good, obviously, but beyond that? I haven't the foggiest. The rumors are fairly childish, but what Bennett said at the beginning, about exorcists going missing...Whatever they're planning, it's big.”
“Lucky I'm invisible, then,” said Tomás, trying for joking but coming off instead as bitter.
Marcus looked at him sharply. He reached out and cupped the base of Tomás' head, leaning in so they nearly touched.
“Look at me,” said Marcus, intent. Their eyes met, and the rest of the world faded from Tomás' mind. “I don't for a moment believe the demons are underestimating you, not after what you did with Angela Rance. No one's ever exorcised someone who's integrated, Tomás. No one. But you did it, and it wasn't just any demon. You're good, Tomás, and the demons know it. So it doesn't matter what they have planned, because you and me are going to send them back to Hell, all right?”
Tomás swallowed and nodded.
“Right.”
Marcus smiled and gently shook him before letting go.
“There we go. Ego properly boosted?”
“It's almost half as big as yours, now,” Tomás replied, standing up.
Marcus laughed.
8. Thou shalt not steal.
The two of them lived leanly, and Bennett provided them with what money and supplies and contacts he could, but when their car broke down on their way to Grand Island, Nebraska, they didn't have many options.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tomás hissed. He was acting as lookout while Marcus jimmied open a car and hotwired it.
Tried to hotwire it, more like. There seemed to be a great deal of muttering and cursing behind him.
“Not really, no,” replied Marcus, sounding irritated. “But we need a car if we're to make it to Bennett's man in Grand Island.”
“I just don't see why we have to steal one.”
Tomás had always tried his best to keep out of trouble, and even if he hadn't always managed it, he'd never stolen anything. He couldn't afford to, and even though there wasn't anyone in sight, he couldn't shake the conviction that any moment now the police would arrive and it would all be over.
“Can't exactly hire one, can we now?” Marcus said. “It's tricky finding a place that'll accept cash only, these days, and even if we could, they need some form of ID for the system. Not ideal for staying off the radar.”
Tomás knew this already, of course, but that didn't mean he hadn't been hoping the answer had miraculously changed. He spared a moment to pray his grandmother wasn't looking down from Heaven to see him party to car theft.
There was the rumble of an engine and a satisfied “There we are” behind him. He turned to see Marcus, face flushed and smug, beaming at him.
“Come on then, Tomás,” he said. “This should get us to Grand Island.” He wrinkled his nose. “I hope it does, at any rate. Not sure I could pull this off again. Not with any of these newer cars, that's for certain.”
Tomás took a breath, steeled himself, and got into the car. He rummaged around his bag and found an old envelope, emptied his wallet of cash and placed it inside. He turned to Marcus.
“We might be taking this person's livelihood,” Tomás said defensively. “I can't do that and leave them with nothing.”
“Wasn't saying anything,” answered Marcus, then said something anyway: “There's no telling the car's owner will be the one to find the money, you know.” He dug around for his own wallet, and handed all but twenty dollars of the last of their cash to Tomás.
“I know,” said Tomás. “But I have to have faith it will get to the right person.”
Marcus' eyes were fond.
“You're a good man, Tomás,” he said, and began adjusting the mirrors.
7. Thou shalt not commit adultery
Bennett directed them to a priory in Montana, where Tomás and Marcus helped perform an exorcism on a young man. The nuns here used Latin and relics and swinging censers filled with incense to supplement their prayer, traditions centuries old, brought over from Europe. Mother Olga was a solemn woman with a deep, musical voice, and spoke only to Tomás. Though she believed Father Bennett that the men were doing God's work and fighting to save the Church, she said, she could not speak to a man who had been excommunicated.
Marcus made a face at that, but didn't seem to be overly bothered. What time at the priory that wasn't spent on the exorcism was spent talking with Sister Catherine, a bright, chatty nun in her sixties. The two had taken an immediate liking to one another, and Tomas tried not to be jealous at how easily they interacted.
Tomás could hear them through the open window, talking in the garden. He tried to focus on answering Sister Cecily's questions about his dreams, and her thoughts on divine visions, but couldn't seem to help himself from eavesdropping.
“It's a good thing you're a nun,” Marcus said. “You'd be an absolute menace otherwise.”
“Oh, I did my fair share of sinning before I took the veil,” replied Sister Catherine. “I had a great time, too. There was a time I would have tried to get both you and your Father Tomás defrocked.”
Marcus laughed. This was part of the quick, easy friendship they'd struck up, Tomás had noticed, flirtatious remarks with no real intent that irritated him for some reason.
“Of course, that's all behind me now,” Sister Catherine continued. “I found God, and I've been a happily married woman for thirty years now.”
“Forty years for me,” replied Marcus. There was a pause, and he chuckled. “Bit of a child bride, I was.” Another pause. “Lately, though, it hasn't been easy. Feels like He's forgotten about me.”
“From what you've told me, He's spoiled you rotten, and you're having trouble adjusting to what the rest of us live with,” said Sister Catherine dryly.
“Funny; you're not the first nun to have said something like that.”
“Apparently it needed saying again. Maybe this time it'll stick.”
There was a pause.
“Sometimes it feels like I've been passed over,” Marcus said. “Like my best days are behind me, and He's moved on. Found himself someone younger and better looking.” This last bit was said with self-deprecating wryness.
“Well, Father Tomás is a good-looking man,” replied Sister Catherine, “but you know as well as I do that the Lord isn't so shallow as that. He loves us all, and has His plans for us. We just need to keep our faith in Him.”
“Yeah,” said Marcus. “You're right.” But he didn't sound entirely certain.
Three days later, that overheard conversation replayed itself in Tomás' mind as he kissed Marcus for the first time. Of all the things he'd seen and heard, Tomás wasn't sure why it was that he remembered as he pressed Marcus down into the cheap motel mattress. Maybe because it meant Tomás was now an adulterer twice over. Three times, maybe, counting his own oath.
Maybe this was some fundamental weakness in Tomás, this giving into desire. But it was love, too, wasn't it, in his touch and in Marcus' awestruck gaze and this moment? And maybe that meant he wouldn't be forsaken.
6. Thou shalt not kill
Tomás woke to Marcus shifting and sighing next to him. He hadn't been sleeping deeply, not in the uncomfortable bed of the pickup truck they'd been given at the last meeting arranged by Bennett; Marcus, on the other hand, could usually sleep anywhere.
“Marcus?” he asked hazily. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, just thinking,” replied Marcus dismissively. “Go back to sleep; you'll need it.”
Tomás instead turned over to look at him. Marcus lay on his back,staring at the stars, his mouth drawn.
“What's up?”
Marcus glanced at him and sighed.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Tomás raised an eyebrow, about to say something like I know, I was there, too, but Marcus grimaced and rubbed at his face.
“Excommunicated. No confession for me anymore.” He sighed again. “I killed a man, Tomás. I've killed more than one, but I've always had God, afterwards. Not this time.”
“Marcus,” Tomás reached for Marcus' shoulder. “Have you been thinking about this since- since Chicago?”
“On and off,” replied Marcus. “He wasn't worth dwelling on. But I didn't realize how heavy it would feel, without confession. Without Him. Suppose I should get used to it.”
“Te absolvo.” The words came without thinking, but Tomás knew, as Marcus' eyes closed like he was fighting back tears, that they were the right ones.
5. Honour thy father and thy mother
“Tomasito,” breathed the crack-lipped young man in the voice of a much older woman. “Tomasito, what happened to you? When did you become cruel? When did you become such a liar?”
Tomás froze for a moment.
“You're not my grandmother,” he said, and continued to pray.
“You're right,” the demon replied, gravel-voiced. “But the old bitch is down here with me. Would you like to say hello?” There was a pause, and then it spoke again in Tomás' grandmother's voice.
“Tomás? Tomás, it hurts. They promised me if I went to Mass and did all their rituals and obeyed all their laws, I would get into Heaven, but it was all a lie! My whole life, my faith, their God, it was all a lie. Help me, Tomás!”
Tomás flinched. It sounded just like his grandmother, the last time he'd seen her, on the nights when she woke up sick and unsure of where she was, knowing only she was in pain and wanting some respite.
Opposite him, Marcus hadn't stopped praying, though he was looking at Tomás rather than at the boy in the bed. He looked concerned, but he wasn't jumping in, telling Tomás what to do or not to do; a welcome change.
Tomás took a breath and looked down at the demon.
“You're not my grandmother. You've tried this before, remember? It didn't work then, and it won't work now.”
He began praying again, louder this time. He'd send this demon back to Hell, no matter what.
“Ungrateful child,” his grandmother's voice hissed. “I never should have taken you in when your parents divorced. Divorce! A sin, one that tainted you before you arrived on my doorstep. And you've been sinning ever since, haven't you? Some priest.”
Tomás ignored the pain in his heart at the words and kept on working.
“Good work in there,” Marcus said while they paused. “I can't tell you how many times they've tried to use my ma and da against me, and any love I had for them died long before they did.”
“I loved my grandmother, very much,” said Tomás. “But this isn't the first time they've tried it. I was able to fight the demons then, and I can keep fighting now. It was...easier, this time.”
“What happened the last time?”
Tomás realized he'd never talked to Marcus about the battle in his head with Pazuzu. He chewed the inside of his cheek.
“It was Pazuzu,” he said. “He got in my head, showed me my grandmother, said terrible things. It almost worked. I almost...I almost did something terrible.” He didn't mention that Pazuzu wore Marcus' face while it happened, nor the knife he'd nearly used. “I loved my grandmother,” he said again. “It wasn't always easy; I wasn't always a good kid, and she wasn't always understanding, but we cared for each other. I just have to remember that.”
“That's right,” Marcus replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on to that, and the bastards can't touch you.”
4. Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath day
Tomás couldn't remember the last time he went to Sunday mass. Before Marcus, he'd organized his whole week around the following Sunday, planning sermons and trying to anticipate the needs of his parish. The planning process had grounded him, and the preaching had made him feel close to God. He'd enjoyed it; he'd been good at it.
And yet, he found that he hadn't missed it very much since leaving Chicago. He missed the sense of grace he received with Communion, and the power of a good sermon, and his parishioners, but he felt closer to God in his new life as an exorcist on the run than he had as a young priest constantly trying to meet the Church's expectations.
3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain
“I'm not sure whether I should be surprised at how quickly the demons have infiltrated the Church,” Marcus said after another dispiriting phone call with Bennett. “The one place you'd expect to recognize demons. On the other hand, both of them do make a habit of sucking the life out of those most vulnerable.”
It was probably the bitterest Tomás had heard him be about the Church.
“There are still good people in the Church, like Bennett,” replied Tomás. He believed it. He had to.
“I suppose you're right,” Marcus sighed, sounding doubtful. “Although if Bennett is your last hope, God help us all.”
“It's not just the Church, though, is it?” Tomás asked. “The demons are planning something bigger, and we've been called to stop it, to help people.”
“The bastards don't get to win,” said Marcus, half to himself. “God may have turned from me, decided I'm not good enough, but I'll keep going. I'll whip you into shape in no time.”
Tomás felt a stab of irritation at Marcus' self-pity, his insinuation that Tomás wasn't good enough. He bit it back; for all Tomás had done in so little time, Marcus had four decades of experience. That wasn't nothing. And though Marcus' despair at no longer feeling God's presence sometimes grated on Tomás, who had only just begun to feel it, he understood it, too. He'd only seen God once, but the thought of never seeing Him again, never feeling His presence, was a physical pain. He could understand the despair even as it rankled him.
“We'll do it together,” Tomás corrected. “We'll walk with Him together, and defeat the demons.”
2. Thou shalt not make to thyself a graven thing, nor the likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath
Tomás woke from a dream of cold water, a baby crying, a dark haired woman who knew his name. He didn't know what any of it meant, but he could tell it was important, like when he'd first dreamed of Marcus. God was trying to tell him something.
He sat up. Marcus was gone- they needed gas for the car, and more terrible snacks and bottled water for driving long stretches without stopping. Tomás spotted a Bible on the side table and picked it up; maybe he would find some divine guidance there.
It was Marcus' Bible, Tomás realized, opening it to find a scribble of a tree obscuring Galatians. He flipped through, seeing little sketches of birds, cats and dogs, an elephant. There was a drawing of a double-irised eye that took up half a page of Titus, and he wasn't sure if it was from someone Marcus had exorcised or just an example. The sight of it unsettled him, and he quickly opened the book to another page.
It was him. Not a perfect rendering, but Tomás recognized it as himself, the shape of his brows, the angle of his chin. In the picture, he was asleep, eyes closed and mouth open. Marcus had vaguely sketched in the lines of his neck and back, and, above that, so lightly the pencil must have hardly touched the page, wings.
He slammed the book shut. It was obvious from the care taken to draw his face, the hesitancy in the barely-there wings, that this wasn't one of Marcus' doodles when he was bored. There was reverence in it, this depiction of Tomás as an angel of all things, and the thing between them was too tender and green for Tomás to believe Marcus would want him seeing it.
1. Thou shalt not defy me by making other gods thy own
“You believe in God, Tomás,” Marcus said. “I believe in you.”