Nakoma

I had never been in a limousine before; and to think it took me a near death experience to get myself sitting pretty with a bag of potato chips on my lap. I pull out a chip as I stare across at the priest who handed down my death sentence. I bet he really felt like an ass now that he knew the truth. Well, I also just learned the truth about my… sainthood so I guess I didn’t really have room to talk.

“I take it you know what a Saint is?” asks the awkward priest. I nod.

“Saints are humans chosen by God. They receive special abilities from Him…” I trail off thinking about what other trivia I knew about Saints. They were definitely respected members of society, and, due to the termination of my sentence, also above the law.

“Well yes, but Saints have one of the most important jobs in society that often goes unnoticed,” he explains. “Saints are humanity's defenders against demons and the snares of the Devil.” Demons… Everyone knew they existed yet no one ever really saw them. I suppose that was thanks to Saints and Exorcists. I lean back in my seat and look out the window, watching the changing scenery pass by.

“So we’re going to the Holy City… huh…?” I mumble. After the blessed blade was sheathed and my life saved, I was told that upon the back of my neck, under my hair, hid the brand of the Saints. Every Saint had a brand, but most of them noticed it a lot earlier than eighteen.

“Correct. You’ll have to meet the Pope to properly get named as a Saint.” I shiver. Pope Sebastian himself, huh? Never in my life did I imagine that I would be meeting someone so important. Then again I never imagine I’d be named a Saint either.

I stare out the window for most of the trip, counting hills, rocks, sheep... At some point the darkness with the warmth and gentle shaking of the car lull me to sleep with its rumbling lullaby.

It’s the awkward priest who shakes me awake gently.

“We’ve arrived at where you’ll be staying,” he explains, gesturing to what appears to be an inn of sorts. I yawn, thrilled at the prospect of a bed. He leads me into the lobby which is deserted at this time of night save a few staff members in suits.

As he talks to the desk lady, I look around. The tiles must have been mopped earlier because I could see my exhausted expression reflected back at me. There are a few red couches spread about on a warmly colored carpet, any of which I wouldn’t mind curling up on.

“Nakoma,” he calls me. I turn away from the sitting area and make my way to his side. He hands me a key marked with “Room 221”.

“I’ll be right down the hall from you,” he says. “If you need anything, just knock on my door, it’s Room 224. Tomorrow morning we’ll be meeting with the Pope so please try to be up by eight o’clock.”

I groan loudly but nod.

One elevator ride later and I’m standing in front of my room for the night. I slide the key and and enter. My only object of focus is the king sized bed, waiting for me with open arms and soft blankets. I shut the door, kick off my shoes, and run to it. Tossing myself onto the bed, I realize how lucky I was to be alive and how lucky I was to get this bed for an entire night. Perhaps God did hear my prayers after all. Feeling drowsy, I reached over to the nightstand and set an alarm for the morning. At some point of me wrapping myself up in a pillowed blanket I fell asleep. The last thought on my mind was how everything was finally going my way.

I awake the next morning to the beeping of that goddamned alarm. I hiss at it from under my blanketed fortress of warmth and safety. I lurch out from under my nest and smack the alarm off before slinking back into the image of perfect happiness. I murmur with delight as I try to work up the will to face a cold room and a nerve wracking morning with the Pope. Eventually I decide that I’ve wasted enough time and I ease myself into the cold, one body part at time. It takes me ten minutes, but eventually I make my way into the bathroom.

I take a quick shower, and by quick I mean that I spend half of the time trying to convince myself to step out into the cold bathroom. Once I succeeded, I dry myself off and redress myself in the same clothes I wore for my execution. I make a mental note to ask about a change of clothes at some point.

When I leave my room, the awkward priest is waiting there, looking down at his watch impatiently. His tired eyes meet mine and he nods, probably satisfied with my timing.

“Are we ready, Miss Nakoma?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Off to meet the Pope. It would be crazy of me to deny being nervous. The Pope was the single most important man on this Earth and to think someone as insignificant as me was about to meet him. If only my father could see me now. A pang of sorrow hits my heart at the thought but I shove it to the back burner. If Dad was out there somewhere I would find him in time. And who knew, maybe becoming a Saint would open a bunch of new doors for me. Maybe I’d get a job; a steady income would be a gift from God.

The elevator ride is silent and I shift from foot to foot anxiously as the priest checks us out. Then we’re off through the doors into the sunlight. I squint at the unwelcome light and shield my eyes as we walk back to the limousine. The chauffeur holds open the door for me and I nod my thanks before sliding into the car and take my spot near the window. The priest joins me seconds later then the car takes off down the road. I watch the bushes and trees pass by as we drive, worried about what impression I was about to leave. Me, a petty thief, meeting the fricking Pope.

Once we enter the city I’m greeted by the sights of hundreds of people roaming the streets, tourists and natives alike. I blink as I take in the architecture. Most of the buildings looks like something out of a history textbook. Ancient Romans come to my mind. There’s marble arches and stairs everywhere! Not to mention the statues of religious figures scattered about, so realistic that they look like people frozen in time. Tourists stand beside them to pose for pictures with family and friends.

We turn away from the crowds and take a back road up to a spectacular building that looked as if it had been build hundreds of years ago by the most skillful architects.

“Whoa…” I breathe as we park.

After exiting the limo, I am led by the priest up what feels like hundreds of stairs to a tall door that towers above us. My companion pulls it open and we step into a long hallway. The floors are polished and classical paintings of Saints and Angels dot the walls. If I craned my neck upwards to the high ceilings I could see mural of angels and clouds hand painted there. Briefly, I wonder how people got up there.

We walk to a desk where the priest leans over to whisper, “This is Nakoma Jansen.”

The secretary looks up from her work. Her lips form an ‘o’ and she shuffles through some papers.

“Third door on your right,” she whispers with a thick Italian accent.

I don’t know what I expected when we entered, but it wasn’t the empty room that greeted me. Well... it wasn’t completely empty. There was a table, two chairs, and an old man who sat in one. I recognized him instantly as Pope Sebastian. He beckons for me to enter and sit. I look to the priest who gives me an encouraging smile.

“Go on. And God bless.”

I suck in a deep breath and enter the room, the door closing behind me and sealing me and the Pope inside. I walk over to sit across from him. He’s dressed in white robes like all the pictures. If I had known my grandfather, I would have instantly compared the two.

“Nakoma Jansen,” he smiles a toothy smile that puts me at ease.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, child. I have heard many things about you.”

“Like the almost beheading?” I blurt out. His smile fades and I instantly regretted every decision I made.

“Yes, and I am terribly sorry to hear what happened to you. You should have been recognized as a Saint a long time ago,” he laments. “May I see your brand?” His question is gentle yet I know I could not deny him. I turn and lift up the back of my hair to reveal the fleur de lis shaped mark.

“Ah yes,” he mumbles. “To think you had such a powerful thing hiding under your hair all this time. I’m surprised your parents didn’t notice it when you were a baby.”

“Yeah… me too…” I mumble.

“But all things happen for a reason and,” he leans in closer. “Last night I dreamed about you Nakoma. The Archangel Uriel visited me to tell me about you and the special quest you must do.”

“Oh? An Archangel spoke about me?” I ask surprised.

He nods. “You are destined to assemble the Angel Blade.”

“The Angel Blade?”

The Pope rises from his chair to pace around the room as he explains. “The apocalypse is upon us, my dear. All four Horsemen have been spotted, and I’m sure you’ve seen the news. Disaster strikes us everyday. There is violence and bloodshed among us. And demons are running loose causing havoc wherever they go. The Angel Blade is our defense against demons. The blade itself does not exist yet but divine knowledge of how to create it was passed down to us by the angels.”

“It doesn’t exist…?” I ask confused.

“Indeed. But it can be made. There are Seven special demons that exist. You know them as the Seven Deadly Sins. They are children of Lucifer who embody the sins themselves. What must be done is the Sins must be tracked down and their cores must be collected.”

“Their… cores?”

“Cores, child, are a demon and angel equivalent to a soul. We have ways here of removing them from a demon’s chest.”

“Hold up a minute.” I straighten up. “You want me to go out and capture demons?”

He smiles. “I don’t. God does.”

Well… I couldn’t argue with an omnipotent being in the sky, could I? But was I really the right one to do something so important?

The Pope gets a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “It’s an all expenses paid trip, of course. The church will take care of you and anything you might need throughout your journey.”

Well that was definitely a perk. I think it over for a few minutes. Yesterday could have been the last day of my life yet, somehow, I had been gifted a second chance. Was this miracle a work of the Lord? Was this my divine purpose? It all sounded ridiculous but... what if I was the only one that could do it?

“I’ll do it,” I say, getting ahead of myself.

The Pope smiles at me. “Of course you’ll need to learn about your capabilities as a Saint. And your patronage.”

“Patronage…”

He nods. “You, Nakoma, are the Patron Saint of Unrequited Love.”

Is that supposed to be foreshadowing something? Unrequited love? Never in my life had I even fallen in love! But I wasn’t going to argue with a man who had angels visit him in his sleep.

“Now,” he turns from me. “I have two young Saints around your age who will be showing you the ropes. You are doing the Earth a great service, child. There is no reason to be nervous. You were chosen because God knew you could do it. He believes in you and I do too.”

Despite his kind words, I can’t shake the feeling of dread that churns in my stomach.

***

After my meeting with the Pope ended I found myself waiting for the two Saints that were going to teach me what I needed to know. My head was spinning with how quickly things were moving. My brain could barely comprehend what had just happened to me. I was important. I was destined to go on some quest. It’s every child’s dream. It was exciting but also terrifying to think I would be out hunting demons.

Two people approach me; a male and a female. The female, a brunette with pigtails and a peppy aura introduces herself first with a thick accent I cannot exactly pinpoint.

“I’m Martha,” she jerks the male, a ginger with crystal blue eyes, over. “And this is George, my partner.” George waves.

“Hello,” he greets me with a British accent. “You must be Nakoma, the new Saint.”

“Yeah, and you two must be the Saints that are going to train me, right?”

Martha hops excitedly. “You got it! Come on!” She rushes down the corridor pulling a distressed George with her. I chuckle and follow them down a hall then a flight of stairs leading to a candlelit basement.

“Wow…” I exclaim. The basement is made of stone illuminated only by the glow of candles along the walls.

“This is off limits to the public,” George explains. “This is where we work with demons.”

“Demons… here…?” Suddenly the warm orange light seemed more sinister like glowing eyes watching my every move. Martha gets a mischievous glint in her eyes but George keeps a firm grip on her shoulder.

“Not to worry. We only have three demons here at this time. All of which are properly sealed away so they can’t hurt us. They’re mostly here for educational purposes,” he reassures me. “In fact, we’re about to show you one.”

The knot in my stomach twists. I was going to meet a demon.

The Saint duo leads me towards a thick metal door.

“He attacked me a few nights ago,” Martha speaks. “He was easy to subdue but there’s something odd about him.”

“Odd how?” I ask.

“Odd as in only top tier demon traps can keep him held,” George tells me. “Usually we don’t need such a high security but he was able to bust out of every trap aside from this one and-.”

“And he doesn’t look much like a demon,” Martha interrupts. “But we promise he is one.”

I gulp as George fishes a key out of his pocket and sticks it into a lock on the door. He turns it and I hear a metal clank from inside. I hold my breath as they open up the door. Inside is a dimly lit small room with a boy standing the in the middle of the room. He appears to be not much older than me with snowy white hair and olive skin. Upon further examination I notice the gleam of his golden eyes as they lock onto me. Honestly, he was cute, almost perfect to look upon. The only inhuman aspects of him were his pointed ears, hair and eye color, and the dark green heart-tipped tail that wagged behind him.

“Hi,” he flashes a smile at me. “I’m Colt.”