The Gunpowder Society

2. "What gifts have you been given?"

“She must be baptized now!!!!” Margaret’s mother screamed pointing at her infant daughter who still lay on the floor of the church with her father hovering over her.

“Did you see the child strike?” the man with the cane, Fr. Maven, asked the two men accompanying him.

“Yes.”  The man on the right, a bearded fellow who was thin yet quite muscular, answered plainly in a gruff tone he was known for.

“He wielded three fingers.” The man on Fr. Maven’s left answered in a stoic tone.

“He wielded three fingers successfully,” Fr. Maven added pensively.  The two men by his side turned to him with looks of confusion, “It was not my power that fell the wolf.”  Fr. Maven’s stated as the men turned back to stare at Peter, who was still looking at them, contemplated what they had actually witnessed.  “Haze, attend to the priest.  He’s still alive.  Make sure he is well enough to conduct the baptism.”

“Yes father,” The man on the left answered as he walked down the aisle toward the victimized priest.

“Father!  Please baptize my baby!” Margaret’s mom pleaded now hysterical, sobbing, and in tears.  “They try to kill her.”  She wailed and slumped to the ground.  Margaret’s father now stood up with the crying Margaret still lying on the floor.  

“Father, my wife is right.” He bent down to grab Margaret, but quickly pulled his hands back as they made contact, as if he had been burned by a stovetop.  He briefly looked at his son Peter who came over and picked his crying sister up.  Though these acts were unarguably unorthodox, he only continued to speak, “This creature, though the most menacing we have yet faced, is only another attacker in a line of many.  We’re both deathly afraid we will lose her before she is baptized.  I don’t,” his voice beginning to quiver, “think I can continue to protect her.  If you hadn’t saved us this time…”

“Actually it was your son Peter who saved all of you.” Fr. Maven answered as he walked up the aisle and stopped in front of Peter’s family.  He walked to the fallen beast, and used his cane to flip one of the beast’s bandaged hands over palm up.  “He might very well have saved us all.”

The muscular man accompanying Fr. Maven grunted in almost silent disagreement with the priest’s claim.   Fr. Maven took his cane and poked at the bandages on the wolf’s hands, which subsequently burned up and vanished after the first cane poke.   Fr. Maven shot a look of worry to the grunting man and privately said to him under his breath, “Magic.”  The man returned a shake of his head and grunted again; the sound meaning something completely different this time.   

Fr. Maven turned back to the family, who had been watching him and his grunting partner as they had inspected the wolf and too saw the bandages burn up and disappear into thin air.  Fr. Maven noticed that Haze was brushing off the priest and helping him to his feet.  The priest was bloodied from his fall, and was balancing himself with the help of Haze’s shoulders.

“Father, I am aware that the situation is extreme and you have been wounded, but do you think you would be able to conduct the baptism?”

The priest looked at Fr. Maven with an expression of surprise and bewilderment.  Fr. Maven added, “We don’t have a lot of time, and I must impress upon you the importance of baptism in general, but more so for this infant.”

“Yes,” the priest said hoarsely.  “I need to seek aid, but if you insist I can conduct the baptism now.”  He walked over to the altar, “Before I do, can you please explain to me what just happened, and why I must conduct the baptism before I go to… the… hos...” the priests words slowed to a standstill as he made it to the altar and starred; realizing it was covered in blood.