“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.
“Because father, today Peter will leave his family and come live with me and mine, and thus, he will no longer be able to protect them. As well, once my student Haze has attended to your wounds, you will no longer need a trip to the hospital.” Fr. Maven said effectively quieting Peter, his family, the priest and even the two men he had come with. Fr. Maven looked at the boy, who seemed to be the least surprised in the room, and asked, “What gifts have you been given?”
Peter did not answer, but turned to look at his father, who only confusedly shook his head in return; not understanding what he was truly being asked. Peter turned back to Fr. Maven, “The control of fire.”
“Then how did you kill the wolf, Peter? There was no fire.” Haze asked as he too made it back to the group around the altar.
“I’ve learned to use heat without fire practicing on juice boxes to make them blow up. I just did that to the wolf.”
Fr. Maven turned to the grunting man, who grunted and said with a mild smirk, “He boiled him to a pop.”
Peter looked worried, and Fr. Maven noticed this. “You have done nothing wrong Peter. Actually you defended you sister and parents against an attacker my party and I would find trouble in defeating as a group.” Peter just starred silent. “You should feel proud Peter. You have honored and protected your family.” Fr. Maven said.
Peter just looked down at Margaret for a second, and then back at Fr. Maven. Fr. Maven noticed this and made a mental note, and continued, “My friends and I noticed that when you stepped in front of the beast to attack you specifically extended three fingers. Can you tell me why you did this?” This caught Peter’s attention and his eyes widened as if someone had discovered a secret of his. “It’s okay. I said you have done nothing wrong Peter.” Peter’s eyes darted around a little bit until his just bowed his head in front of Fr. Maven.
“I can’t use all my fingers,” Peter answered.
Fr. Maven, Haze, and the third in the party (affectionately known as Hell-Proof) inhaled deeply through their noses, straightened up, and starred at each other all with looks of unsure intrigue at Peter’s answer.
“Well,” Peter said sounding as if to reassure the group, “I have once… but it was painful and I injured myself. I feel I will be able to as I get bigger… as I get stronger.” He turned to his parents who were just listening to the group’s conversation completely baffled. “When Margaret and I were attacked outside that one night.” The mother and father lowered their gaze as they recalled the time.
“What attacked you then?” Fr. Maven asked.
Peter turned and pointed, “A pack of wolves… like him.”
“Werewolves,” Fr. Maven corrected. Haze and Hell-Proof starred at each other with eyes wide. Fr. Maven continued, “You say you and your sister were outside at night.”
Peter only nodded a bit, and then locked his stare on his sister.
“Was the moon full?” Fr. Maven asked.
Peter only nodded again, not taking his eyes off of his sister. He had an expression of growing discomfort on his face.
“And how did you and your sister escape?”
“I killed them,” Peter answered.
“All of them?!” Hell-Proof asked impulsively.
“All of them.”
Fr. Maven just exhaled slowly out pursed lips as he began calculating the facts as quickly as he could. He started simple, “As I just said the beast before you is a werewolf, and is the single most powerful enemy my group and I face.”
“And what group might that be,” The priest asked Fr. Maven, “That is set against a pack of werewolves?”
Fr. Maven answered, “It is a species of werewolves. Not simply a pack my brother. He is one of a multitude that sustains itself.” The priest looked up at Fr. Maven with a worried look, “And the group my students and I belong to is named the Gunpowder Society.”
“You have joined together to hunt werewolves?” The priest asked.
“We were established by the Holy See to fight all forms of evil. These animals are one of many who just fall into the category.” Maven answered. He turned back to Peter, “We are on a recruitment campaign, if you will, and we have attained our newest student.” Peter just looked up at Fr. Maven with a look of discomfort. “Peter, you have special gifts like the others in my group, which is why you will need to come with me. Through time you will come to know more of what we are, and I will help you master your gifts.” A slight look of wonder appeared on Peter’s face, but Fr. Maven continued, “Unfortunately, as I mentioned, you will have to leave you family.”
“Why?” Peter asked as his eyes began to tear up.
“Because my school is only for those who have been given gifts like you,” Fr. Maven answered as he put his hand on Peter’s back. He turned to the parents, “I presume that neither of you passed these gifts on to Peter?”
The father just shook his head still completely in the dark on the conversation, as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he was to lose his only son.
“You will have to leave your family Peter, but there is much good that will come of that. By making the decision and agreeing to come with me you will be protecting your family.” Peter looked up inquisitively. Fr. Maven explained, “Those beasts only attack you because of your gifts. They will continue to attack you, but you will be much safer under the care of me and my students. The attacks on your family will cease altogether, and they will be safe…” Fr. Maven said trailing off but watching Peter closely, who again peered at his sister briefly, “since you are the only one in your family who has been given gifts.”
“My sister has been given the gift of ice.” Peter blurted out as if he had been holding the statement back and it had blasted through its captivity. This silenced everyone. Peter turned to his mother, “That is why only I can ho…”
“Hold her when she cries.” The mom softly completed as she pieced everything together and looked back down at the floor reeling within her memories.
Fr. Maven looked at Peter’s mother, and how exhausted she looked starring at the floor. He could not find the words to express the message he was to deliver to her. He couldn’t imagine the crushing feeling she must feel losing both her children.
She looked up at Fr. Maven, “Are there any women are your school?”
“Yes, one of my main students is a young woman who is very caring and has a deep maternal instinct. She will take care of Margaret while she is young.”
“What is her name?” the mother asked.
“Mary,” answered Haze.
“She is the matriarch of the group, being that there are no other women in the school… yet,” continued Fr. Maven. The mother looked a bit perplexed. “We are currently a small group, but as I said we are on a recruitment campaign, and there will be two more women joining soon.”
“Will they be safe?” Peter’s father asked with a helpless tone.
“They will be much safer, and so will you and your wife sir,” said Fr. Maven in a reassuring tone, but his tone changed as he continued, “However, let me be clear. I am not rescuing your children from evil today. I am recruiting them to seek it out.” He paused and let that set in momentarily. “They will employ the gifts that God has given them to fight our enemies. The Gunpowder Society is not about providing safety. It is about seeking out and destroying danger.” Silence remained in the church chamber. “That being said we must make haste, and baptize the child.”
Fr. Maven turned around and began, “Grab the…” Where the werewolf had been, now lay a human man; naked and fatally wounded. Fr. Maven paused, “the man and place him on the altar.”
Haze and Hell-Proof lifted up the man and placed him upon the altar in front of the other priest, who just starred at the dead human in front of him.
Baby Margaret was baptized. Haze sat the priest down and healed his wounds. The Gunpowder Society left the church with two new members. Fr. Maven placed a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder as he exited with the group and still holding Margaret.
“Are we ever to see our children again?” Peter’s mother asked.
“I cannot promise it. You are not barred from seeing them again, but you are barred from my school.”
“How can we contact them if we want to see them?” Peter’s father asked.
“You cannot. They will come find you if and when the time is ever right,” answered Fr. Maven as he let go of the church’s front door allowing it to shut behind him.
Peter looked up at Fr. Maven and asked, “Where are we going?”
“To find the rest of your class.”