Dirty Work: Volume 2

Story Five - Nostalgia - 4

The temple of the Order of the Bat Worship was quiet that afternoon. The wings of the statue above the main entrance dripped rainwater from their talons and gave it the impression of some kind of underground passage. Drip. Drip. Drip. A beautiful building in all other respects, if incredibly creepy and not a place I'd go for my worship, given a choice.

A man in long red and black robes looked at me through the little window in the thick, heavy door. I waved. He walked over and opened the door. 'Can I help you?'

I took out my Halo-Core, opened up a screen with nothing much on it, and flashed it so quickly the man couldn't see a thing. 'Celestria Private Police. Doing a follow up on an incident in the locale. Mind if I ask you a few questions?'

The balding man spluttered. 'Well, I... um...'

'Thanks.' I smiled and stepped through the door before he could complain.

The inside of the temple was open and airy. Columns rose up to an arched ceiling high above, and chandeliers filled with dozens of candles dropped down to greet us. At the front on a raised dais was a large trough which I wasn't too keen to get close to. Behind it on the far wall was a large metal sculpture of a Bat, wings outstretched, two vials in its claws. The room smelled distinctly coppery. It was a smell I knew all too well.

'Well then, Mr...'

'Xayne.'

'Mr Xayne. What can I do for you?'

'Well, sir, there's no easy way to put it, so I'll say it like this. I've received confidential information that a number of your congregation may be involved in some way with... erm... criminal activities.'

The man blanched. 'My congregation?'

'I'm afraid so, sir. I believe, if I'm right in saying so, that some of your congregation have recently expressed frustrations with the nature of your worship, and have made moves to establish their own, ah, coven, as it were.'

The man cast a suspicious glance behind him and stepped closer to me. 'Where are you getting this information from?'

'I'm not at liberty to say, sir. Confidential, you know.'

'Well. Certainly nobody who attends this temple is involved with anything criminal. We are a peace-loving community devoted to understanding the nature of life through its precious gift of blood, that passes through us all, sustains, and nourishes us.'

I nodded in understanding. 'I certainly didn't mean to insinuate that you here were breaking any laws, sir. Please don't misunderstand my meaning.'

'I should hope not.'

'But it might be that perhaps an individual or two, who, having expressed opposing views to the main branch of the Order, have decided to pursue other avenues of exploration into the beauty of the blood.'

'The beauty of the blood,' the holy man murmured. His eyes gazed upon the bat. 'The beauty of the blood.'

'That's so, sir.'

He shuffled up to the dais and I followed him. He peered into the trough, and I foolishly did likewise. Enough blood to completely engulf a human being.

'All donated from worshippers. We store it in special refrigerators to keep it clean, and then fill the trough for baptism into the Order.' He looked at me quickly. 'All voluntarily. All legal. All moral.'

I nodded my understanding once more, though inside I was repulsed by the idea. As soon as you'd seen blood spilt through violence, you didn't even want to graze your knee.

'A number of my congregation are feeling ill as of late,' said the holy man quietly. 'I had been informed that they had been, experimenting, with other forms of blood worship. I tried to stop them, of course, but they didn't heed the words of the scripture.'

I kept quiet and let him speak in his own time. Names. Just give me the damn names.

'This is off the record, you understand.'

'Completely, sir.'

'That's 'Father Obaka' to you.'

'My sincere apologies, Father.'

He gazed longingly into the red metal eyes of the bat. Would it forgive him for exposing some of his blood-soaked patrons?

'Jin Holler,' he said at last. 'Vallen Street 37.'

I kept my face straight. 'Thank you, Father. I understand how hard this must be for you.'

'I don't think you do,' he said. He gave a sigh that only a battle-worn man can give. 'I've tried to keep people together. I've tried to lead them out of dark times towards a better future. I know that many might not agree with our practices. They find us obscene. But through our beliefs, one can become better. One can find a brighter path. To feel that one has failed to help others out of the dark, that they might actively turn away from everything we stand for, and it is all your fault...'

He trailed off into silent contemplation. I thanked him and left him alone to his spiritual crisis.

Outside the building, Mansi Har Van Sai was leaning against a police kar. 'I thought you might have more information than you were letting on,' he said smugly.