Aestas Invictus: One More Murder
by Demeter

chapter one

Be not overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good. --Romans 12:21

Will Girardi was awakened by his phone at 2:27 am. He had been having a dream about being back in high school and it took him a moment to realize that it was the phone ringing, and not the last bell of the day.

"Hello?" he answered the phone groggily.

"Will, we need you down here," a panicked voice came through on the phone.

"What's up?" he said, instantly alert and upright.

"I haven't got a clue," said the bewildered deputy on the phone.

"All right, I'll be right there," said Will, hanging up the phone and rolling out of bed.

"What's going on, Will?" Helen asked, wide awake now and fearful.

"I don't know," said Will, bemused. "I'll give you a call in a few hours. Try to get some sleep." Will bent down to kiss his wife then swiftly headed out.

The station was in chaos. Every phone line was lit up. A knot of higher -ranking officers was gathered in the center of the room, shouting at each other and gesturing wildly. Will headed straight for them.

"Will someone tell me what is going on?" he said sharply. They stopped and looked at him.

"Well," began one officer, "it started about midnight. We got a weird call. Uh…`death to all those who do not worship the darkness,'" he read off a paper.

"It was from a pay phone, so we assumed it was a crank call, sir," continued another, "then, all of a sudden, the phone lines lit up. The same set of numbers, the same message, over and over. Dispatch has been pretty much shut down. No communications are getting through."

"Did you get a trace on the numbers?" asked Will.

"Sure," said the first officer. "They're all here around Hammersy Park." He pointed out the area on the map on the wall.

"How many cars have been sent out?" he asked.

The group of officers looked at each other. "Well…none, sir," one managed. "It's too dangerous without being able to call for backup. It took us nearly two hours to get through to you."

"You haven't sent anyone out!" shouted Will.

"Well, we thought…"

"You thought nothing. Get me a three-car backup. I'm going out," Will finished in disgust and headed out into the dark.

He was still a block and a half off when he saw the fire. He picked up his radio then tossed it down in disgust as he heard the monotonous message.

He hit the panic button in his car and was gratified to hear the sirens in the distance as he reached the park.

There was a group of nearly twenty men, all in black robes, indistinguishable from each other, standing around a burning pillar of some sort. He exited the car with his gun drawn and nearly retched. The smell of burnt flesh was overpowering.

The men around the pyre watched him silently as he approached, sirens loud and fast approaching from the distance. Will felt like he was about to be the victim of some bizarre practical joke as they all calmly knelt when ordered. It was only then that Will could clearly make out the charred remains in the waning blaze and the robe and crucifix folded neatly beside the pyre.

"Holy Mother of God," murmured Will in shock. "They've murdered a priest."

Although the PD tried to keep it down, there was no way to stop a story like this from spreading in a small town like Arcadia.

Will found himself in the uncomfortable position of making a statement to the press later that morning.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "this morning Arcadia witnessed a great tragedy. We used to feel safe here, removed from the dangers of the city. Now, many of us are feeling unsafe. Members of our own community perpetrated the death of Father Constance. Those we have in custody claim to be members of a cult called "The Worshippers of the Darkness." Although this kind of violence in Arcadia is a surprise, it is not a new phenomenon. Rest assured, the law enforcement of Arcadia is doing everything we can to ensure nothing like this ever occurs again and I believe that the people of Arcadia will not allow this crime to destroy our community."

Will finally headed home around 1:00 pm feeling shaken and unclean.

He found his family watching the unfolding news coverage in shocked silence. As the door closed behind him, Helen jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. He held her close, wishing she had the power to make him forget.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine, nothing a few dozen showers won't cure," he joked without humor.

"Daddy?" Joan's voice sounded lost coming from the living room.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Will released his wife and walked over to Joan who was curled up in a corner of the couch, gripping Luke's arm.

"Why?" Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she looked up at him, willing him to have the power to make the bad things go away like he could when she was younger.

Will paused, searching for the right words to comfort his daughter, aware of the eyes of his sons focused on him, looking for reassurance. But this demon was bigger than koala bears in hats and he found he had no reassurance to give them.

"I don't know," he said finally with a sigh. "I don't know what makes men capable of something like this. But I do know that people are capable of great good as well and times of trial help us to realize our potential."

Joan regarded him silently for a moment. Will could hardly bear to look back at her. Joan had always been the happiest, most well-adjusted Girardi child. Lately, however, Joan had been shrouded in sadness, which Will knew had something to do with Adam Rove. But she also seemed so distant, like she was always focused on something just beyond what was going on, something bigger. Will worried about her.

She rose and kissed her father on the cheek saying, "I'm going for a walk. I just need to be…outside."

Helen and Will looked after her with concern but let her go.

Joan walked without really knowing where she was going, absently kicking at pebbles and watching them go skittering off. When God had said that something terrible was coming, she was so afraid of not being able to do what God needed her to that she never really absorbed that terrible things were going to happen. A passage from the one book she had actually managed to read for English this year kept running through her mind. "She was already not what she was. No fiction could compete with what she was finding she did not know, could not have imagined."

She thought back to the encounter that had started it all, when God had told her "he will die." Would it have been Adam dead today if she hadn't listened? No. She firmly pushed the thought away. Father Constance was killed because he was a priest. She shuddered.

"Someone walk on your grave?"

Joan started as a figure spoke to her from the trees on the side of the road.

"Who's there?" she called anxiously.

"Don't you know me, Joan?" A tall, graceful woman dressed in red emerged from the shadows.

Joan sighed. "This is what was coming. It's here, isn't it?" Joan's voice was flat with acceptance.

"Father Constance was only the first." said the lady in red. "There will be more unless you can stop the one in control."

"How am I supposed to do that!" exclaimed Joan. "The police don't even know who he is!"

"But I do. I am all-knowing." The lady in red smiled and pulled a folded piece of paper from her bodice.

Joan took it gingerly between two fingers and raised an eyebrow. "That was…tacky."

The lady in red shrugged. "Find that man, Joan," she said, gesturing to the paper. "Learn what you can about him. You will need knowledge to stop him from killing again." She turned to leave.

"Wait!" called Joan, helplessly.

The lady in red turned. "Yes, Joan?"

"I…uh…never mind," said Joan. She hadn't expected God to listen.

The lady in red disappeared into the trees.

Joan unfolded the paper. It was a photo of a rather ordinary man who Joan recognized as a frequent customer at the bookstore. She particularly remembered selling him a Bible. She felt sick.

She folded the picture, put it in her pocket and continued wandering along. How in the world was she supposed to stop this guy? If she told her father, he would ask for proof, which she couldn't give. She could snoop around for evidence to give her dad but if he found out she knew, what was to stop him from killing her? That cancelled out simply talking him out of leading a satanic cult, which had never really been an option anyway. Joan hoped fervently that God would send a few more hints her way. She prayed that God would keep her safe.

Kevin left for the newspaper office shortly after Joan walked out. It only took ten minutes of uncomfortable silence for Luke to stand up

"I'm going to see Grace."

His parents nodded at him absently. He shook his head as he grabbed his coat. As he walked, he reflected that his parents didn't know him very well at all. They were used to dealing with Joan's moods and Kevin's anger, but when it came to Luke's desire to actually talk about things, they were hopeless. That was part of the reason he though he and Grace got along so well. She was always able to offer him an interesting discussion, a new perspective, or even just to make him feel less alone.

To his surprise, it was Grace herself and not Rabbi Polanski who opened the door.

"Hey." She looked severe.

"So, I guess you've heard then," said Luke, stepping in and closing the door.

"Yeah, Father Constance was a friend of my father's. They got together every Wednesday and argued."

"Grace, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you knew him." Luke put a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged. "I didn't really. But Mom's really upset. She and the Rabbi went to the park. They're having a vigil or something."

"Grace, are you sure you're…"

Grace interrupted Luke. "Look, I don't want to talk about this okay? Give me something else to think about," she snapped.

"Sure," said Luke, ignoring her tone. "Well…I read this great paper the other night on quantum theory that says it's an incomplete explanation because they conducted an experiment where they bombarded photons…"

"Something interesting, dog boy," said Grace, flopping down on the couch.

Luke took off his coat and sat beside her. He yawned comically loud and obviously stretched, putting his arm around Grace. He was rewarded with an amused smile.

"Smooth," said Grace with mock seriousness. "So any developments in the Joan-Adam drama fest?" she asked.

"Well, I caught Adam staring at Joan at lunch on Friday. He still looks like she broke his chem set…or you know, something that matters to him, but he's looking at her. Joan keeps freezing every time he's within a five-foot radius though. It's like she has Adam radar… `A'dar, maybe?"

Grace rolled here eyes. "Those two have so much angst that Dawson's Creek looks like a serious drama. I wish they'd just get over it already."

"Yeah," Luke agreed, "Joan's no fun anymore."

"And Rove's gone all `tortured artist'…again," Grace amended.

"I wish I knew what happened at the lake," Luke mused absently. "They were so…y'know… together and then, all of a sudden, Adam wants to kill Joan and Joan goes catatonic for a week."

"My theory breaks down into two hypotheses," said Grace haughtily.

"That is so hot," said Luke.

"One: Joan and Rove did the deed while we were on the beach," continued Grace, scrunching up her nose as if the idea smelled bad.

"Which previous observation would support," added Luke.

"And two," continued Grace, "Joan freaked out and dumped him."

"Which observation of Joan would support."

"Right."

"So how do we get Adam to forgive Joan?" asked Luke.

"Your conclusion is erroneous," said Grace pretentiously.

Luke looked indignant, "Is not!"

"Is too," said Grace. "I know Rove; he is head over heels for Girardi, for whatever reason. If Joan tried to fix things, he'd forgive her eventually. The real problem is, how come Joan doesn't want to be forgiven."

Luke nodded, considering. "Say it again."

"What? I know Rove…"

No, before that."

Grace looked at him sideways. "Your conclusion is erroneous."

Luke grinned and kissed her neck. Grace smiled.

"Your scientific method lacks academic rigor."

Luke made a very interesting noise in the back of his throat and pulled Grace onto his lap. She squeaked in surprise but was silenced by his kiss.

"Your…significant…figures…" Grace managed breathlessly between giggly kisses.

"Grace?" Luke interrupted.

"Hmmm?"

"Shut up."

She followed procedure.

chapter two

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