A priest walks into a bar.

Stop me if you've heard this one before.

Not a Cheers sort of bar or something quiet for regulars. More like a bar whose headlining act were some Princeton kids who needed a stand in bassist. Not my cup of tea, but they did offer me an emergency 1/4 of their take for the night. Personally I think they just wanted me because I gave their show some presence - modesty was never my strong suit.

I saw the priest take a seat in the back and order some wine in the middle of our second set. He looked to be getting on in his middle years, but I could tell underneath the Cossack that he had some muscle on him. That guy from the Exorcist came to mind.

After the set was done, I was rather quick to get packing and get off stage. The guitarist of that group had been eying daggers at me all night, and likely not because I was messing up (wasn't as if any of their material was artistically original) but probably 'cause the sound guy decided to make me a bit louder than his fragile ego would have liked.

Never bring an Eastwood to a fight with a Fender Jazz Bass, kiddos.

"May I borrow a bit of your time, miss? Someone asked. I looked up to see the priest smile at me. He had somewhat of a weathered look about him despite his age, suggesting he had seen far more than he'd prefer to admit.

"Erm, no. By all means Father, I was just finishing packing up. Just give me a moment and we can talk out side." I noted with a smile, zipping up my bass case before motioning him along.

Something that might surprise people who know me - I am very respectful towards clergy. Call it a product of upbringing, but I find it bad form to piss off someone wielding the blessing of the almighty without good reason.

I wandered by the front man, who gave me my split as we exchanged pleasantries - mostly him thanking me for helping out, me commenting that his guitarist was a petulant asshat, and a tactful agreement to the previous. I pocketed what I had before walking out, the priest in tow.


"You played a good show, though I can tell you guys haven't played together long."He noted.

"Their usual bassist couldn't make it, so someone recommended me to them." I noted simply as I lit a cigarette. It didn't help I felt like I had been competing with the guitarist all night, but these days I take whatever gigs I can get.

"And they seemed to struggle a bit with that last song." He noted. I chuckled, and kind of wanted to call him Reverend Obvious. He seemed rather astute.

"Sweet Jane by the VU is a favorite of mine. After looking at their play list, I requested it as part of my terms for playing with them. They all knew the song, but they hadn't rehearsed it much."

The priest nodded, commenting "Interesting. Anyway, I hear you usually bartend near the Meatpacking District."He observed as I glanced at him.

"And who did you hear that from?" I asked as I lit my smoke with my scratched up old zippo, offering him a cigarette just to be polite.

"A Miss Melissa Albrecht, actually." He said with a smile, declining my offer with a wave of the hand, "I was by there earlier looking for you before I found you here. She said you might be able to help me with a... problem."


"Funny, she never seemed the sort to be in cahoots with clergy." I noted, giving him a more critical look over as we walked. I'm not the greatest judge of people, but I've known a lot of clergy, and there was something distinctly unusual about this guy.

"Fortunately for me, she has a lot of acquaintances in strange places."he said with a smile, before offering a hand, "Father Al Pazziri, S.D.B."

"I have no idea what that last part means, but nice to meet you." I said, shaking his hand, "Sparks, as you probably heard."

"Ach, apologies. I forget not everyone knows the lingo." he sighed before giving a small chuckle and elaborating, "Salesians of Don Bosco. Our major mission is to help the impoverished, at risk and helpless."

"Well Father, considering you seem to know who I am, it doesn't seem like I'm the right musician to be asking a donation of." I noted with a smirk.

"Well, it isn't donations I'm looking for, Sparks."The Father explained with a sigh,"An old halfway house that I offer counseling services at has had a rash of... problems, lately."

"And what makes you think I can do anything about that?" I asked as I ashed my smoke, "I'm a musician."

"From what I understand, your personality isn't the only thing volatile about you."he mused, causing me to stop in my tracks."Miss Albrecht didn't say anything about your talents. I figured them out watching you on stage."

"Pardon me for blasphemy, father, but you're a kook." I said with a mutter before continuing my walk.

"You cannot help then?"He asked with a curious one, watching me walk off. I stopped about five paces off and sighed, before flicking the rest of my cig away.

I don't tend to advertise what I can do. I'm not a superheroine or anything. It's mostly 'cause I'm bad at saying 'no' to people.

Especially clergy.

"I didn't say that..." I turned around, watching him, " I was hoping you could explain more about what you need me for."

He just offered me a smile and motioned me on, "I frequent a bar near here. Care to talk about it over a drink?"

Clergy . . . your post reminded me of my own encounter with the priesthood. I hoped my scar would b enough. But you can’t see my scar, so a rendition of what happened should be in order, instead.

Hopefully, your experience turns out—or turned out—better.

It was a couple days before I ended up heading up to the Bronx, after Father Al filled me in on a few more details before agreeing to meet me at the locale in question. I took a Riverdale Bound 1 that morning, the train car I was in smelling like some hard to place funk that, like the hobo swilling the paper bag of liquor and the family of two probably going to Van Cortlandt Park, I was trying not to notice.

The halfway house in question was a renovated three story building across the way from a Dominican bodega. I'm not much of an architecture expert, but I think we're talking late 19th century - at least, that's what the paint job on the outside looked like. Father Al was outside, talking to a woman with hair somewhere between brunette and chestnut, a rather humorless look on her face.

"Yo." I said to the two of them. Father Al turned to me with a smile - the chick did not.

Tough crowd.

"I'm happy to see you again, Sparks." Father Al said to me with a smile, before motioning to the priss, "This is my assistant, Sister Elizabeth Melrose."

I reached out to shake hands. She just looked down at it and spoke plainly,"A... pleasure."

"I bet." I noted, lowering my hand.

"Don't... mind her, Miss Sparks." The Father reassured me, "This is just a somewhat complicated situation for us all."

"I bet." I repeated with a smirk, before noting, "Just Sparks will do, by the way."

"You don't have some sort of... real name?" Elizabeth asked me, quirking a brow.

"You wouldn't be able to pronounce it." I noted dryly as I squinted up at the building in question. In a weird intuitive sort of way, the cracked paint and warped siding kind of told me what I needed to know about this place.

As I was admiring the lack of maintenance of the building, Father Al continued.

"I suppose I should explain a bit more. Elizabeth here has sensed something unusual stirring in the building. Exactly what we aren't sure, but it seems it may be exerting some dark influence upon those living here."

"Perspective sort, isn't she." I commented - perhaps with more skepticism than I intended.

"More than you would know Miss Sparks," she said coldly. She gave me a weird... stare, before with a smirk adding, "Or is that, Svetl-"

"You're going to get out of my head now." I interrupted, stepping towards her as I narrowed my eyes, "Or all you're going to be seeing is the pavement."

It was the patient Father who stepped between us, raising his hands in an appeal, "Ladies! This is hardly the time to be fighting amongst ourselves."

"You could have mentioned your floozy was a mindreader, Father." I said with some scorn. That got her hair up.

"Floozy!? How dare you..."

"Enough, please!" The poor priest pleaded to each of us. I exhaled softly before stepping back, much to his relief. Likewise, Elizabeth calmed down as well - still eying daggers at me, but...

"Let's... just get down to brass tacks, alright Father?" I glanced at him as he nodded to me, before leading us up to the door.

I was not going to like this foray.

Hannah - that's a nice way to put it. Too bad she never had anything nice to say.

I got a bit sidetracked by life. I suppose I shouldn't leave y'all hanging, huh.

The interior of the halfway house wasn't nearly as trashy as the outside. The wallpaper was only half peeled off, most of the lights worked, and the mirror in the entrance walkway only had one crack in it. Were it not for the smell of damp cat, it might not have been 'run down' rather than 'crap'.

Father Al mingled with an old African-American receptionist as I watched Elizabeth walk about slowly, giving every crack in the ceiling, scratched wooden door and curious teenager a look of scrutiny. There were a lot of the last category, actually - apparently these kids were well acquainted with Father Al, as he smiled and waved at them even as the receptionist was giving him the run down of the week.

"Not a bad place." I commented idly.

"When would a home for troubled youth ever be anything but bad?"Elizabeth asked with a disapproving tone.

"When the one you stayed in as a kid was worse than this one." I said as I looked about, "Or did you not read my mind to figure that out?"

"I don't pry for fun, and I suppose I should... apologize. I simply wished to make sure your intentions were true in helping the Father."she explained as she walked into the next room. Her tone was distracted, as if her focus was on something else.

I hmphed in response as I watched her wander about, touching the walls gently as she made her way about the dining room. It was a lot like watching a blind person feel their way around - except, y'know, maybe I was the blind one here. Clearly she was getting something that I wasn't - though halfway houses always gave me creeps. Bad memories, I tell myself.

This one though was especially creepy. It was probably the most harmless one I've been in, barring the old piano, white and green striped wallpaper, and antique household items sitting inside glass cabinets. 'course, my oldest brother always told me that old timey clothing irons were for bad children, not clothes.

"Father Alfred was correct. There is something lurking about." Elizabeth noted as she glanced over a china set,"Though unless you are... aware of unnatural things about, this may take me awhile to find."

"Right. I'll be taking a look about then." I noted, walking off to the next room. I think the stuffy habit-holder hardly paid me any mind as I did.

I got some strange looks from some of the padawans as I wandered about. They were all ages, various ethnicity, and dispositions ranging from distant and cold to curious.

I walked over to an old piano, the thing looking nearly abandoned as I opened the cover, several kids watched me as I did - funny how chicks with flaming red hair draw crowds. I played a couple notes for fun, wincing a bit at how out of tune the thing was, before covering the keys back up.

"Nobody's played that thing since Jonsy died."A hispanic kid barely into his teen years said.

"What happened to Jonsy?" I asked curiously.

"He fell out of the attic window."Said a little girl, barely old enough to read, said to me in a way that was both adorable and depressing.

Jee-zus.

"I'm... sorry to hear that." I said to them, somewhat awkardly. I ain't great with kids, and these particular sprites were kind of bumming me out.

"It's okay. We never knew him. He died 20 years ago." Said the teenager, "Nobody's seen him since."

"I did! I saw him last night in Tim's room!" Another little girl shouted.

"Stop lyin'. Jonsy's gone and we never met him." The teen responded, affectionately ruffling the little girl's hair. The girl hmphed, before running off, the other kids doing the same.

What's the word... serendipity?

I walked off to go find the Nun.

It took a bit of prodding to get Beth to go upstairs with me, not quite convinced all of the china downstairs was possessed 'r something. Eventually though we were upstairs in Jonsy's old room, currently unoccupied aside from an empty dresser and mattressless bed frame.

"There is something about." She murmured after inspecting the room for a few moments, glancing at every corner.

"Right, peek around then. I suppose I'll do the same." I noted, beginning to wander the halls a little. I think Bethy gave me an annoyed glance as I walked out, but I wasn't inclined to wait around on her.

The upstairs needed serious care. There were some holes in the wall that actually looked sort of recent, there was some half-clean mold in the corners, and some of the light bulbs hadn't been replaced. It all gave the second floor an abandoned feel. Considering that only a few of the rooms had any decoration in them, I figured this was where they put the kids they really didn't like.

I stopped to pick up an old Raggidy-Ann sort of doll sitting in a room when a small kid voice scared the bejeezus out of me.

"The monster will get you if you aren't careful." Nearly jumping out of my skin, I turned to look., seeing a 10 year old boy or so, his expression kind of sad.

"Don't.... do that!" I said, muttering as I stood up, doll still in hand. I looked around a moment, before looking at him, "You don't stay up here, do you?"

"It used to be a lot nicer." he said, looking around, "Before the monster came."

"What monster?" I asked, kneeling down to his height.

"He likes it when people get angry and hurt each other." The child whispered aloud, as if telling me some great secret as he looked down each end of the hallway.

My gaze followed his briefly, before I tried to put my hand on his shoulder to reassure him - only for my touch to pass right through him. Needless to say, I freaked out just a bit as I jumped back.

"...what's your name, kid?" I asked, trying to keep the spook out of my voice.

"James, but everyone used to call me Jonsy." He said.

"Some of them still do - the ones who heard stories about you, anyway." I said after a moment.

"Oh." The... kid said, before glancing down the way, "That other lady seemed kind of mean."

"I'm sure she isn't that bad... to children, at least." I snorted, "She's just concerned because of the monster. Can you tell us anything about him?"

The boy looked hesitant, before finally nodding.

Progress.

"He likes it when people get angry with each other, and says that it makes the food taste better."

"He eats the children?" I asked, looking a little perturbed.

"He hasn't yet. But he wants to. Not their bodies, but the thing inside that makes them them, you know?"

"I think I know." I said. If I didn't, Beth might.

"He's a big bully. He said that if I weren't already dead, he'd have made me jump out the window first." Jonsey said with a frown.

"We'll take care of him, Jonsey." I said, reassuringly.

"Do you promise?" He asked hopefully, "I don't want anyone else fighting anymore."

"Promise." I said.

"Promise what?" Beth asked, walking up to me.

I motioned over to Jonsy, who was of course, gone.

Why am I always the crazy one? Damnit.

"There was something here." The nun stated as fact, looking about warily.

"Someone yes. Elizabeth, you're either going to think I'm crazy or love what I have to tell ya..."

Ghosts creep me out, period, Mel.

It took me awhile to convey what I had to Beth - mostly because all of what I had to go off of was a ghost. It goes without saying I was a bit reluctant to fess up. Surprisingly though, when I was finished, she was rather understanding.

"We should take this to Father Al." She insisted.

"...that was easy." I noted, "You don't think it's a trap or something?"

"It may very well be, but it's the only lead we have too." She noted, "Besides, I sensed the spirit's presence earlier - a very lonely, but kind one. I'm sure you got the same impression by speaking to him."

So I have a good sense of people, she said - maybe she isn't a giant nun-zilla after all.

After informing the Father, he deliberated a bit with a friend of his on the phone - apparently an expert from the Vatican had been called in for consultation. The old codger came by as him, Father Al, and Bethy went about deliberating what our creeper in the night could be.

For my part, I mostly sat outside and looked stoic as I had a smoke. Go team. It was a bit before Father Al came back over, just as I was putting out my light.

"We have decided we are going to do an exorcism. Would you be willing to keep watch for us while we do?" He asked.

I glanced at him, then at the halfway house with a shrug and a smirk.

"Count me in. I've already been here half a day."


Catholic exorcisms are pretty bling, to put it mildly. All these trappings like chanting and candles, salt holy water and whatnot. We were on the second floor, near Jonsy's old room. Father Al was conducting the thing in something I didn't understand, the older priest joining him.

"Is that Latin?" I murmured to Elizabeth.

"Almost certainly," she murmured back to me quietly before giving an apologetic shrug"I admit my grasp of it isn't very good though."

"You should read my Russian." I murmured back with a snicker.

There was the crash of something downstairs, startling the other priest and Beth. This was followed by sounds of fists being thrown - tiny, tiny fists. It seemed the big nasty didn't like the idea of leaving much.

"I'll investigate. Watch the Fathers, please."Beth asked, heading downstairs slowly.

Turning back to the priests, I watched them continue their recitation for a few moments. Whatever they were saying, they said it with a lot of fervor. Good for them, I guess.

Quietly, I prayed whatever it was would work.

Just as the priests seemed to be getting to the good part, I heard glass breaking downstairs, followed by some screaming I could hear Elizabeth shout "Get away from them, fiend!"

The priests and I sort of glanced at each other. This wasn't going to be good.

I have been prodded to wrap this one up - you owe me, Daichan.

I blitzed downstairs, nearly banging my head on a low hanging ceiling. Beth did not look like much of a scrapper, so I felt it best to hurry.

Beth was on the ground, holding side of her face with a bit of blood trailing along her fingers. A crowd of kids had developed around her, all more or less scratching, hair pulling, or punching each other.

More worriedly, one of the kids had a baseball bat, and was about to smash Beth's brains in. I probably couldn't allow that.

I called out the kids name as I pushed through the crowd, urging him to put the bat down. The kids hardly noticed me as I went through them, still attacking each other in an almost bestial manner.

The one holding the bat, the apparent leader of this mod, looked at me, an empty, angry look in his eyes as he pointed at me.

As a dozen kids between the age of 8 and 13 stared before lunging at me, I realized that maybe stepping through the middle of them was a bad idea.

Now, I'm not a weak lady. I can bench quite a bit. But lifting is dead weight. That many children and tweens jumping on you is something else all together. I managed to catch a five year old and carefully fling him to the side before three more managed to jump on me, trying to pin me down and tug at my clothes, hair, and face.

The kids were trying to hold me down as the older one with the bat attempted to split my melon in two. I wasn't about to have any of that as I lunged forward, knocking the kids off of me and taking Lil Slugger off of his feet - though he got me real good in the arm as I did. Ow.

The kid's recovery was nearly instantaneous as he rolled to his feet, trying to take another swing. His coordination and response didn't make any sense, and all I could do was step in and jam his swing with my body, the baseball bat pressing against me in my grasp.

"Beth, are you okay?" I asked, grunting as the kid angrily tried to strangle me with the bat. For his age, he was... strong.


"They're not themselves. They're all so... full of anger"She murmured, crawling towards her hands and knees as she held her head as she seemed to focus. Fortunately, the other kids were apparently getting ahold of themselves, looking each other in confusion before gasping as the big kid - his name was Johnathan later, I'm told - tried to end me with single minded focus.

"Listen to her, kid, you're being yanked arou-oof!" Johnny poked me in the jaw with the butt of the baseball bat, trying to take another swing at me that I narrowly sidestepped, "I don't think fighting them is a real option!"

"Kid, listen to me."Elizabeth spoke,"I know you're frustrated and angry. I know you feel like you're alone, but you're not. You have friends and people who care about you."

Johnny's grip seemed to relax briefly, as if he was contemplating what she said, before he suddenly let out a furious growl, attempting to finish what he started with Beth until I managed to grab his arms and flip him onto his back, pinning him down with my knee as he thrashed wildly.

"You're lying! You're just like every other adult! You don't give a damn about us!"" Johnny cried as he thrashed about.

"Listen to her." I urged, continuing to pin him down, "I've been in places like this, you know."

Some part of him reacted to that even as another part of him clearly was trying to get that other part to ignore me, the teen looking up at me in a half sob. He was still trying to resist, but his efforts were becoming more restrained.

"It looks rough now, but this isn't the end. You can have a good life and be happy - but you need to let go of your hate and blame."

Johnny was on the verge of tears for a moment before his face contorted almost hideously, a voice not his own calling out as he proceeded to ragdoll throw me to the far side of the room, next to the piano.

"These vermin are mine! You will not interfere!"Johnny said with a voice very not his own. It became rather evident who the possessed one was out of these kids.

I picked myself up, leaning on the piano for support as I shook the dizzyness off. My hand hit a couple keys on the piano as I righted up. as I did that, I watched Johnny flinch, growilng in rage.

"Johnny, the nice ladies are right! Don't let it get you!" The little girl from earlier shouted. Those words caused the possessed teenager to almost flinch, watching the crowd with a combination of hatred and desperation.

That's when I did it again, playing Ode to Joy slowly. Each note that rang out caused him to twitch and seethe. It was then that I realize why he got Jonsy out of the way all those years ago.

My piano playing was never great, but apparently it didn't need to be. I began to play what little piano I remembered from before I picked up a real instrument like the Fender Stratocaster.

"Fight this, Johnathan. We're here for you." Elizabeth pleaded, looking up to see the priests coming down, wondering why there was music going on now.

"Yeah Johnny! You were always the toughest and the coolest!" A kid started, before starting to chant his name. Several others soon followed.

Soon the entire group of kids was chanting his name. It might have been the head injury, but it was sort of endearing to me. The energy of the room was... positive. I'm sure whatever was haunting these kids hated that.

Johnny fell to his knees, his look pleading as he sat there. It was like he wanted to lash out and hurt everyone, but some part of him - the real him, I imagine - was keeping that from happening.

It was a few moments longer before he pushed the baseball bat away from himself, looking up at the priest and pleading,
"...help me."

Father Al and his assistant managed to set up the exorcism again, this time with the culprit throughly incapacitated thanks to a wonderful rendition of Springsteen's Meeting Across the River - from Beth, mind, as my piano wasn't great. The girl certainly won my respect with that choice.

The priests did their thing, and with the usual dramatics that I imagine are typical of exorcisms (screaming, windows slamming, weird smells, etc), the thing haunting these kids was gone. Despite this, my work was apparently not quite done, as Elizabeth pulled me aside later and asked if I could spend some time with these kids on a weekly basis to show them how to play music.

"Alright, but I don't think we listen to the same kinds of music." I noted to her wryly.
"No, but the kids do." She noted, a hint of a smile on her face as she added,"Besides, when The Who were in town last time, I waited a day to get tickets."

I suppose nuns aren't all that bad...