Knock Three Times

30. Fire & Water

    A mournful brow lowered, her heart softening upon sight of his still and peaceful remains. Leonard Dawson had wanted nothing to do with the demonic case right from the start, his very involvement against his own god-given instincts, yet he fought to his dying breath for a cause he wasn't even sure he believed.

    Out of the chaos of clanking steel and imminent death, Father Theron managed to get to her side, as a Templar Knight fought alongside him, two acting as one. When he spotted Jenson glaring with great mourning upon her partner, he made the sign of the Holy Trinity, and then placed his hand upon her shoulder.

    'May God have mercy on your soul, Brother Dawson.'

    'He doesn't need it.' Jenson replied slightly annoyed at the thought, as though her partner had done something wrong. 'Lenny was the best of us.' she choked, finding the strength to turn and leave him there on the floor.

    'Touché, Detective, God holds martyrs above all others in Heaven. He will be waiting for you, when your time is through. In the meantime, there is still much work to be done. We need you, Jennifer Jenson.'

    The toughened officer looked around, the battle seemingly moving in slow motion. Many lay defeated and still, some she had worked with, others she had come to know well. 'This was a damn massacre.'

    'Not quite.' said the Templar as he followed through a killing stroke, then tossed a throwing knife just a few feet before him, taking out a raging enemy who's charge had fell short of his well aimed throw, now twitching upon the floor. 'Many still fight to their last breath, Detective. There is still time, but every moment we stand idle will cost us lives. You must gather what strength remains.'

    Jenson nodded, feeling the devastating effects of loss and defeat. She leaned forward, crouching over the remains of her partner and kissed his cheek ever so gentle. His flesh was not yet cold, as was her affection for the man she had come to respect. There was nothing impure about her feelings for the slain detective, a genuinely innocent soul who deserved better than to be left on the battlefield amongst the piles of Satanic scum.

    'Whatever happens, Father . . . make sure he gets a proper burial, whatever it takes.'

    'Assuming we survive, most certainly child.' he agreed, but his gaze remained on the defence, on the lookout for enemies. The Templar kept most of them at bay, allowing the detective time to grieve, but couldn't keep it up much longer. He was showing signs of exhaustion, and their numbers were increasing as more cloaked soldiers of darkness seemed to rush from the levels above.  

    'Let us not allow his sacrifice to be in vain, Jennifer.' the equally tired priest then moved her forward, and turned her back to the slain man who she barely begun to know.

    A rather large man managed to rage past the knight, and Father Theron turned lightning quick, swinging a hard fist just below his jaw. Despite the man's size, the seasoned priest managed to knock him out with a single punch.

    'You're spry for an old geezer.' Jenson managed an exhausted smile.

    'Well, I wasn't always a priest, young lady.' he grinned with confidence. 'Few devote themselves to their faith without reason, repentance for those I've hurt amongst many. I was quite the brawler, back in Manchester, cheering for the Mighty Reds.'

    'You were a soccer hooligan?'

    'Quite the temper, you can imagine—'

    'Here.' Jennifer handed him the brass knuckles, knowing a brawler would find better use for them, a fit seemingly perfect for both a brawler and a man of faith. Theron studied them for a brief second noting the golden cross protruding on the middle knuckle, then slipped them on rather comfortably as he closed his fist. A charismatic grin suggested he was no stranger to such a weapon.