Chapter 111

Hey, what kind of person is God? Julius had once asked his nursemaid that, too. As a small child he really had had an endless need to know things; he wouldn’t rest until he’d cleared up whatever question was bothering him. Hmm…I’ve never met Him either, you know, she’d answered, looking sort of at a loss. I wonder if all the really important people have met Him! Yes, I suppose they must have. The Elders receive the word of God directly, after all. You might get to be an Elder someday, too, you know. Little Julius’s eyes lit up at that. If I got to meet God, I’d ask him for all kinds of stuff! I’d wish for some rare trading cards, and to be stronger, oh, and I want a pet dog! Oh, and then… When he started listing one wish after another, his nursemaid smiled at him wryly and said, Now, now, young master, God isn’t someone who grants wishes. God is someone who watches over us, loves us, and forgives us. R-really…? Yes, really. Oh…At her explanation, all the excitement of a moment ago vanished, and young Julius hung his head dejectedly. And I had a bunch more wishes, too…like for Mom and Dad and you to always like me, and…for there to be no people in trouble on our planet and for nobody to be sad or hungry or freezing anymore. But I guess God doesn’t grant wishes like that, huh…? I don’t need God. “God” never does anything for us. Her words springing to his mind again were like a heavy blow to the chest. The upper ranks of the Church were trying to deal with both the string of Elder deaths and the monster affair without letting them become widely known. With the Council of Elders still short-staffed, administrative functions at the top were a mess. They had their hands full keeping up appearances to make sure the confusion didn’t show; there was currently no official position on the monster issue. Even though civilians were dying. Considering that the Undying Hunters were on the move, it seemed clear that the Council of Elders was somehow involved, or at the very least had information on the monsters, but that information still hadn’t come down to the Security Forces, the ones actually attempting to protect the city. No matter how he tried, Julius couldn’t ignore the fact that his distrust in the Church was growing every day. He wanted to believe that his fears were groundless. And yet… The day it happened, the cold was still unremitting, even though it was just about time for them to be welcoming spring, and the skies were leaden. After receiving a peremptory call that consisted of “Come get me,” Julius had come to a train station near headquarters that shuttled people affiliated with the Church. He saw the train pulling up, and then a short time later a gaggle of passengers poured out of the station house, looking somehow more restless than usual. In a crowd dominated by people in the black greatcoats and hats of the clergy, it wasn’t too difficult to spot the tall redhead. When he stopped in front of the man amid the flow of passersby, the first words out of Julius’s mouth were, “It’s not a good look on you.” “Shut up.” The redhead who glared grumpily down at him, still maddeningly half a head taller than he was, wore jet-black priest’s robes and a greatcoat with the hood pulled down low over his forehead so that he at least stood out less than usual. Around his neck hung an ancient portable radio Julius recognized. Though a careful observer might notice that the right sleeve tucked in his pocket was empty, at a glance from a distance he looked like any priest coming home from rounds in the country. Apparently, Julius’s old nursemaid’s husband, who worked at a Security Forces outpost in Gate Town (and whom Julius was fairly close to; he thought of the man as a sort of favorite uncle), had hooked him up with the outfit. You’d think that the long, high-collared robes themselves would suit his tall, lean form, but he was projecting a decidedly “outlaw” atmosphere that, as far as Julius was concerned, made the overall effect just wrong. Nobody would take him for anything but a rogue delinquent priest. I’d look a hundred times handsomer than him in those robes. Probably. He was willing to bet there wasn’t a respectable priest in this world sporting mismatched eyes and a blatantly sketchy sore on his cheek the color and texture of iron rust… This guy was missing another body part every time Julius saw him. With some hesitation, he asked, “What happened with your eye?” “It’s a badge of honor.” The other man smirked. Julius fumed. He’d been nice and asked out of concern, and he got the feeling he’d been teased for his trouble. “Yeah, right! That’s pathetic, not cool.” “Yup, I’m fighting a lot of losing battles right now, so I’m pretty pathetic.” The easy admission struck Julius speechless. Wow, I don’t remember him being so honest and open…“I don’t have time to worry about appearances right now, so I’m just gonna use whatever I can. I called you because getting your help was the most convenient way to do this. Even though I’d really rather shoot myself than owe you a favor.” “……” Never mind, I hate him after all. Julius pursed his lips in disappointment. More than two years had passed since they’d first met on the Sand Ocean, and Julius felt that he’d personally matured at least two years’ worth in that time, but just like this guy hadn’t gotten older, his messed-up personality really hadn’t changed a bit. A broad connecting bridge extended from the station exit toward Church headquarters. They slipped into the flow of similarly attired people around them and began walking down it side by side. “…Where’s Kieli?” They were both facing forward when the soft question came. Julius had no doubt he’d been dying to ask that from the very beginning. He hmphed irritably and answered, “I heard she went to Father Sigri’s house to meet with the hostage.” “So she got together with Bea…” the other man murmured, relieved. The way he glanced down at the radio at his chest as he spoke made it look for all the world as though he and the radio were nodding to each other. “You want to go there?” “Nah…if she managed to meet up with Bea, we don’t have to hurry. First—” He abruptly slowed down and veered a little unsteadily toward one side of the bridge, so Julius followed him warily. “What’s going on?” “A little smoke break.” “Excuse me?!” To his amazement, the man proceeded to lean on the parapet of the bridge and light up a cigarette under the cover of his hood. “Didn’t you just say we don’t have time?” “I don’t. So”—he took a deep drag and exhaled—“I gotta dope up with nicotine now, or I’ll be dead on my feet before we’re done.” He didn’t sound as if he was joking. Letting the parapet of the bridge support his weight, practically hanging over it as he breathed out his smoke, he did look genuinely in pain. Julius could see now that he was hanging on to his strength of will by a thread, feeding it by being provocative because it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. “So, about the monster thing.” “Right.” Julius ended up leaning his own back against the parapet next to Harvey and taking a break with him as they spoke. The people coming and going on the bridge glanced their way every so often, but Harvey was facing away from the flow of traffic, so he didn’t get any dirty looks for the smoking.