The monastery of St. Vincent Patrick was located at the intersection of two streets in Central Los Angeles. A road to it formed a park with all its attributes: benches, trees that shelter in their shadow any from the California sunshine, and a small fountain. This evening, like any other, motley audience gathered in the park: mothers with kiddos, relaxing folks after work, couples in love, involved in sports and jogging people, riding on skateboards teenagers, as well as homeless people who lay everywhere who’ve been stuffed or drunk, but so often they are both at the same time.
Perplexed by today’s events, Andrew paid little attention to visitors. He was making quick steps toward the monastery, along the road that had already become familiar to him. Having walked past a beggar asking for alms, Andrew stopped.
“Sir, do ya have a few bucks?”
“Why do you need them for?” He asked.
“I have to pay for the place. Buy some food and, if left, a drink.”
“Are you armed, my son?”
“Yes, padre. The Lord protects those who can protect themselves.”
“It’s been said a little bit differently, but there’s such an opinion. Minding about getting a job?”
“I’m already working. Collecting info is also a job.”
“Hmmm,” Andrew thought. “Anything for me?”
“A Hamilton.”
“Deal. The banknote transferred from Andrew’s wallet into his bowl, from where it immediately disappeared into robes.”
“Holy father…”
“Andrew.”
“Have you ever seen a person who glows?”
The answer was clearly read on his face.
“You’ve seen her. Me too. This girl cannot be forgotten, especially her face. I had never seen so much … bliss, tranquility, and greatness. Continue?”
“Yes,” Andrew answered, thinking about what he just heard.
“She once came early in the morning to the monastery and left it in the evening.”
“Thankee! That’s all? By the way, I can confess to you in the church of St. John. I’m its abbot.”
“Thank you, Padre.”
“Have a good one!”
All the thoughts and prepared phrases flew away from Andrew’s head, which he preselected for a conversation with a bishop Steve who’s the abbot of the monastery. With mixed feelings, he crossed a threshold. The wind outside pushed him inward to meet the inevitable.
To his surprise, one of the novices was already waiting for him with a suggestion to go to the abbot’s office.
“Thanks for caring, but lemme catch my breath. I know how to get him.”
The young monk, with some reluctance, left him. At this point, Andrew was trying to figure out what had changed in his perception of the situation. “Exactly!” Confidence evaporated with his every move. The context in which he fell was absolutely not typical for him. He was taught from the seminary bench to believe and follow the Holy Scriptures. Could he completely, after having heard and experienced, trust the abbot? Was he the cause of what happened to Candy?
“Andrew, my brother! I’m glad to see you again.” Steve, haven’t hidden his smile, went up to him.
Steve was a peppy man of about seventy. He was not very tall, and his facial features, as well as skin color, indicated that he was from Latin America. Despite his age, he was still stately and mobile, and his view remained clear. He had traveled a thorny path that led him from Peru to California in his lifetime. God bears witness to this: he never set his goal in power but always in service to people. After graduating from Santo Toribio de Mogrovejo seminary in Lima, he was sent to the small town of Huanuco. During training, he showed himself to be an intelligent and ambitious novice, so he was transferred to Los Angeles after the death of one of the priests. Over time, having gained authority among the flock, he was elected as a rector of the monastery of St. Patrick. About this time, Gabriel briefed him about John Constantine.
Andrew and Steve knew each other for as long as he can remember. That’s why such a welcome didn’t look like a violation of established procedures.
“What do you think about?..” Andrew unexpectedly got down to business.
“Don’t rush like that. I’ll go with you a few laps in the courtyard. I’ve overstayed in my office.”
“How is your flock? Have something to boast about?”
“Boasting leads to sin. My faith is stronger than ever. I’m glad I was able to dissuade the three suicides last week.”
“Are you subscribed to Social Research?” Andrew interested
“Yes. I look through articles.”
“There are more suicides in LA.”
“Definitely,” Steve summed up.
“There’s a tendency to increase the age level.”
“If earlier teenagers were the backbone, the Lord forgives me these words, but now it’s up to thirty and older. More often, they began taking innocents with them to the next world.”
“For example, heading a car into a crowd.”
“Exactly.” Steve stopped, inviting him with a gesture into the corridor towards his office. “Tea, definitely, will help a further conversation. There are enough oxygen facials.”
“Suicide is popularized.”
“Are you talking about Suicide Channel?”
The office was small: the lion’s share of the interior was occupied by a desk and several chairs for visitors. The wall was decorated with several icons and a bookcase. The shelves were filled with a variety of books and discs with music mainly on church subjects. The TV hung on the wall from the front door and soundlessly broadcasted Catholic TV.
The perfect order reigned on the table. All things knew their place: a tablet, laptop, notebook, magazines, documents, and stationery.
The cabinet door silently shut behind them. Having asked the novice about the service, they settled down in armchairs.
“It seems to me…”
“Andrew, this is just business.”
“Could it be part of The Game or struggling for…”
“Between whom?”
“Well… I dunno.”
“I don’t see the parties to the conflict, just as I don’t see any subject standing behind them.”
“…and yet, I’m not calm.”
“They have not only a decision of the Los Angeles District Court, but also the Federal level one. Everything’s covered. All that remains for us is working with the flock taking into account the new threats.”
“Be vigilant.”
“You wanted to discuss the case with the girl.”
“Candy, for sure,” Andrew agreed.
The tea was brewed enough to start immediately. Donuts and croissants complemented the silent picture. From the concentrated expression on their faces, it was noticeable that they were reflecting on past events.
“What about the girl?”
“Everything’s fine now. I’ve passed her to the police. She doesn’t remember what happened to her for two days. Thank John for being able to respond to my request immediately.”
The abbot grimaced without concealing his neglect. Steve radically didn’t share the views of John and his disregard for the charter, rules, and traditions.
“Do you have any contact with him?”
“I would be glad not to have,” he decided to play along with the abbot, “but he saved the girl.”
“Saved … he’s got a bad reputation.”
“There exist various rumors.”
Andrew retold the main points of what happened.
“You’re crazy to let him do this!” The abbot couldn’t be able to handle it. “This should NOT be repeated. It was the first and last time. This is an indulgence to you personally from me.”
“How about a girl? It really worked…”
“We don’t know all the consequences of such a turn of events. Those tales that he told are ridiculous even to discuss. When did she come to you? I see. This Candy came to us, stayed a day, and left.”
“That simple? She came…”
“Yes. The novices met her. She stayed for several services, spent the night, and went away.”
“Didn’t you call the cops?”
“There was no reason for this. We took her as a pilgrim. She looked and behaved quite normally, like everyone else. Even was in upbeats after the services. Similar cases were somewhere else?”
“Nowhere else.”
“I was generally shocked while I was listening to your story.”
There was a short silence. Steve, having changed his position, continued:
“Call Constantine. Say, I want to see him.”
“It’s a wise decision to let him tell you everything. I don’t wanna be an interpreter,” he smiled. “Thank you for taking the time to receive me. Indeed, this discussion…”
“Friendly conversation…”
“Correct. It’s very important to me. May I go? The service won’t serve itself,” He said the last phrase with a touch of irony.
“You’re right, Andrew. I’ll call a cab for you.”
“Thanks, Steve.”
He bowed politely and left the office. Having left the monastery, he decided to walk in the park in anticipation of a car. Everything’s heard did not add answers but added questions. The only thing that was confirmed was that she was here.
“What caused Candy to this state?”
Thoughts continued to swarm in the head. “Do I trust John? Definitely. So he has to know not only about the invitation but also about the essence of the conversation.”
“They say that John was a litmus test. Let’s see what it shows us,” he spoke out loud.
A cab pulled up, parked at the curb. Andrew hasn’t asked the cab driver if it’s a car of his order, sat in the back seat.
“Let’s go to the church of St. John, please. Try to avoid traffic jams.”
“Yes, padre.”
Chapter 5. GTFO John Constantine! Chapter 7. Angela Dodson. Let’s Talk About Details