The truck rattled along the dusty road, the sun already high in the sky as Cassian drove in silence, his face as serene as ever. Beside him, Jessie, Carly, and Francine were quiet, their bodies still marked by the tension and ecstasy of the previous night. The clearing in the woods was behind them now, along with the smoldering remains of the gas station and the bodies of the cannibals. They arrived at the outskirts of a small town in West Virginia, an unremarkable place with wooden houses and quiet streets that contrasted sharply with the hell they had escaped. Cassian parked in front of a bus stop, turning off the engine with a precise movement.
He got out of the vehicle and opened the back door, helping the girls step out. They looked at him with tired but grateful eyes, their torn clothes and dirty faces reflecting the ordeal they had endured. Cassian pulled a piece of paper from his bag and wrote a number with a pen he kept in his pocket, handing it to Jessie.
"This is my number," he said, his voice calm but firm. "If anything like this happens again, if you feel something strange, paranormal, anything you can't explain, call me. It doesn't matter the time or the place. I'll be there."
Jessie took the paper with trembling fingers, nodding without hesitation.
"Alright, Cassian. We'll call you if anything happens. I don't think we'll ever forget what you did for us. You're… I don't know how to explain it, but you're different. Thank you, truly."
Carly, crossing her arms to hide her vulnerability, added:
"Yes, we will. After what we saw, I'm not risking ignoring something weird. But I hope we never have to use it. I want to leave all this behind, though I don't know if I can."
Francine, more timid, looked up at him, her voice soft but determined.
"We'll call you, I promise. I don't know how to repay you for what you did. You saved our lives, Cassian. We'll never forget it."
Cassian gave a slight nod, his expression unwavering.
"You don't need to repay me. You survived, and that's enough. Take care of yourselves. I'll see you again when your university break starts, if you wish."
Jessie smiled weakly, tucking the paper into her pocket.
"Of course. When vacation starts, we'll look for you. I don't know how, but we will. You're not someone who's easily forgotten."
Carly nodded, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.
"Definitely. After everything that happened, I think we deserve to see you in a less… bloody place. Maybe we can even grab a coffee or something."
Francine laughed softly, a sound that broke the tension.
"A coffee sounds nice. But seriously, Cassian, take care of yourself too. I don't know what else you're facing, but I don't want to imagine you alone against things like those."
Cassian gave them a slight bow, his tone serene but with a hint of warmth.
"I'll be fine. Rest and move forward. I'll see you soon."
Without another word, he got back into the truck and started the engine, leaving them at the bus stop as the vehicle disappeared into the distance. The girls watched until he was gone, a shared silence sealing the unspoken promise between them.
Hours later, Cassian arrived in a neighboring town, a larger but equally unremarkable place, where Father Daniel Hargrove awaited him at a modest parish. The priest, with his weathered face and hard gaze, greeted him in an office cluttered with books and crucifixes, offering him a chair in front of a messy desk.
"You made it in one piece, I see," Hargrove said, sitting down with a grunt. "I wasn't sure after leaving you in that forest. What happened there? The Vatican wants a report, but I'd rather hear it from you first."
Cassian settled into the chair, his posture relaxed but alert, and began to recount in his deep, measured voice.
"There were three of them. Deformed creatures, cannibals, but not human in the pure sense. Possessed, I would say. They smelled of sulfur, their bodies reacting to holy water as if on fire. I faced them in a cabin and then in a cave. I used the dagger and my blood to expel what inhabited them. Sawtooth died with a blow to the heart, One-Eye with his throat slit, and Three Fingers decapitated. I burned the gas station afterward; there were maps leading to their lair. I didn't want anyone else to find them."
Hargrove listened in silence, drumming his fingers on the desk, his eyes narrowing.
"Possessed, you say? That fits with what we suspected. And the kids who were with you? Did they all survive?"
Cassian shook his head, his expression unchanged.
"No. Three girls survived: Jessie, Carly, and Francine. The men—Evan, Scott, and Chris—died. I couldn't save them. The evil reached them before I arrived or during the escape. I did what I could."
Hargrove let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead.
"Damn it. Well, you saved three, which is more than many would have managed. Those things… they're not just beasts, are they? There's something bigger behind them. What do you think? Do you believe it was an isolated nest or part of something worse?"
Cassian clasped his hands in his lap, his tone reflective but firm.
"I don't know yet. They were strong, resilient, but they didn't seem organized like a cult. It could be an echo of something ancient, something left loose in that forest long ago. But if there's more, I'll find it. The Vatican sent me for a reason."
Hargrove nodded, pulling a sealed envelope from a drawer and sliding it toward Cassian.
"Speaking of that, Rome is impressed with you. Funds arrived this morning. They say to move around the country as needed: planes, cars, whatever it takes. They want you to keep hunting these things, investigate any case that smells like what you faced. You're their weapon now, Cassian, more than you were before."
Cassian took the envelope, opening it to review the documents and a stack of bills.
"Good. It'll make things easier. Anything else I should know before I move?"
Hargrove leaned forward, his voice dropping to a grave tone.
"Just one thing: be careful. You're not invincible, no matter how much you seem like some vengeful angel. What you faced in that forest might only be the beginning. Evil doesn't sleep, and neither should you let your guard down."
Cassian tucked the envelope into his bag, his face impassive.
"I don't, Father. Thanks for the funds and the warning. I'll see you when the road brings me back."
The next day, Cassian was seated in a café in an unfamiliar city, dressed in new clothes: a pristine black shirt, dark pants, and polished boots, his crucifix subtly gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the window. In front of him, a steaming cup of coffee sat untouched as he reviewed his phone. A message from the Vatican had arrived minutes earlier, and he read it carefully:
"Cassian, new case in California. A girl, Quinn Brenner, has been trying to contact her deceased mother. She sought help from a local priest but was rejected. They fear she might try again on her own. If she doesn't know what she's doing, she could open doors that shouldn't be opened. Investigate. Urgent."
Cassian set the phone on the table, his mind already plotting the next step. The waiter, a young man with curious eyes, approached with a coffee pot.
"Would you like more, sir? You seem lost in thought about something serious."
Cassian looked at him with calm eyes, giving a slight nod.
"Just a little more. And yes, something serious. It always is."
The waiter filled the cup, hesitating before speaking.
"I don't mean to pry, but… are you a priest or something? That crucifix, the way you're so calm… I don't know, it gives off that vibe."
Cassian offered a faint smile, almost imperceptible.
"Something like that. But I don't preach in churches. My work is more… direct."
The waiter chuckled nervously, stepping back.
"I see. Well, have a good day. If you need more coffee, just let me know."
Cassian took a sip, his gaze returning to the message. Quinn Brenner. California. Another soul in danger, another threshold that evil might cross. He tucked the phone away, left a few bills on the table, and stood with the same serenity with which he had faced the cannibals. The road was calling him again, and he was ready to answer.