The California sun beat down mercilessly on the dusty streets as Cassian arrived in the city, his serene figure standing out amidst the bustle of cars and carefree pedestrians. He had landed at a small private airport hours earlier, sent by the Vatican after the urgent message about Quinn Brenner, a teenager caught in a dangerous game with the dead. His leather bag hung from his shoulder, loaded with sacred tools, as he walked toward a modest church on the outskirts, the first step to understanding what the girl had awakened.
Inside, Father Tomás, a middle-aged priest with deep bags under his eyes and trembling hands, greeted him in a sacristy filled with dusty books and extinguished candles. The man looked at him nervously, adjusting his clerical collar as if it were too tight.
"You must be Cassian," Tomás said, his voice wavering. "They told me from Rome that someone would come. I didn't expect it so soon… or so young. What exactly do you want to know?"
Cassian sat down across from him, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, fixed on the priest.
"Everything you can tell me about Quinn Brenner. The Vatican informed me she came to you, asking for help to contact her deceased mother. Why did you turn her away?"
Tomás swallowed, glancing toward the window as if fearing something was watching him from outside.
"It wasn't an easy decision, believe me. The girl came a few days ago, desperate. She said her mother, Lillith, had died recently and that she felt her trying to speak to her. She asked me to perform… I don't know, some kind of séance, a ritual to communicate with her. But as she spoke, I felt something. A heaviness in the air, a cold I can't explain. It wasn't just sadness in her voice; there was something dark behind it. I told her I couldn't help her, that this was beyond me."
Cassian frowned slightly, touching the crucifix around his neck.
"What exactly did you feel? Describe it. Don't leave anything out."
The priest hesitated, his fingers drumming on the table.
"It was as if the air grew heavy, as if someone else was in the room with us. Her eyes… she didn't realize it, but as she talked about her mother, it was like she was looking at something behind me. And then I smelled something… I don't know how to describe it, like sulfur mixed with decay. It wasn't natural. I told her to seek someone more qualified, that I couldn't get involved in this. Did I do wrong? Should I have helped her?"
Cassian shook his head, his tone calm but firm.
"No. You did the right thing by stopping. If you weren't prepared, opening that door would have been worse for both of you. But she didn't stop, did she? What else did she tell you before leaving?"
Tomás sighed, wiping his sweaty forehead with his hand.
"She admitted she'd already tried contacting her mother on her own. She didn't go into details, just said she'd been talking aloud in her room, asking her mother to respond. I warned her it was dangerous, that she didn't know what she might attract, but she was so lost in her grief that I don't think she heard me. She looked at me like I was crazy, and then she left. I haven't heard from her since, but… I can't shake that feeling. What are you going to do?"
Cassian stood up, adjusting his bag with a slow movement.
"I'm going to find her. If she's already called the dead, something responded, and it won't be her mother. Thank you, Father. May God keep you."
Tomás looked at him with anxious eyes, half-rising from his seat.
"And what if something comes for me? For having spoken to her? I'm not ready to face what you face. I don't have your strength!"
Cassian paused at the door, turning toward him with icy calm.
"Pray. Keep your faith. If something comes, it won't be for you, but for her. But if you need me, the Vatican knows how to find me."
Without waiting for a response, he left the church and headed to the Brenner apartment, guided by the address the Vatican had provided. The building was a worn concrete block, with dirty windows and an air of abandonment. He climbed the stairs to the third floor and knocked on the door. Sean Brenner, a man with a weary face and disheveled hair, opened cautiously, frowning as he saw him.
"Who are you?" Sean asked, his voice rough with exhaustion. "If you're another salesman or preacher, I'm not in the mood."
Cassian inclined his head slightly, his tone calm but authoritative.
"I'm Cassian. I've come for Quinn. I know she's been trying to contact her mother, and I know something is stalking her. I'm not a salesman or an ordinary preacher. I'm here to help her, if you'll let me in."
Sean looked at him distrustfully, blocking the entrance with his body.
"How do you know that? Who told you? Quinn hasn't spoken to anyone except a priest who turned her away. Are you from the Vatican or something? Because I don't believe in that stuff, and I don't want some fanatic putting weird ideas in my daughter's head."
Cassian kept his gaze fixed on him, unfazed.
"It doesn't matter what you believe, Mr. Brenner. What matters is what's happening. Quinn is in danger, not because of ideas, but because of something real. I've faced things like this before. Let me speak with her, and if you don't like what I say, I'll leave. But you can't ignore this for much longer."
Sean hesitated, pressing his lips together before opening the door fully.
"Alright, come in. But if you scare her more than she already is, I'll kick you out. She's in the living room, just got back from an audition that went badly."
Cassian entered, his boots echoing on the worn floor. Quinn was sitting on a tattered sofa, her pale face and dull eyes still dressed in her audition clothes for the theater academy. When she saw him, she straightened, her voice trembling but curious.
"Who are you? What do you want? I don't know you."
Cassian sat down across from her, setting his bag aside, his expression serene but penetrating.
"I'm Cassian. I've come to help you with what you've been seeing and hearing. I know you tried to contact your mother, Lillith. I know things haven't gone well for you since then. Tell me everything, from the beginning."
Quinn looked at him, her hands tightening in her lap.
"How do you know that? I only told Father Tomás, and he said he couldn't help me. Are you another priest? I don't want sermons; I just want to understand what's happening. I've… I've been hearing noises at night, like knocks or footsteps, and today, during the audition, I saw something. A figure in the wings, watching me. It wasn't human; it had some kind of mask… I ruined everything because of it. What does it mean?"
Cassian listened in silence, his face impassive as he processed her words.
"It means you opened a door, Quinn. When you call the dead, everyone hears you, not just those you love. That figure isn't your mother. It's something that found you because you invited it without knowing. What exactly did you do to try to contact her?"
Quinn swallowed, looking at her father before answering.
"I just… talked to her. In my room, at night. I asked her to give me a sign, to tell me she was okay. Sometimes I lit candles or played her favorite music. I didn't think it was that bad. But then the noises started, and now this… Is it my fault? Did I bring her or that thing?"
Sean interjected, his voice rising with frustration.
"Of course it's not your fault! It's all in your imagination, Quinn. You've been sad since your mom died, and that stupid priest put weird ideas in your head. This guy probably wants the same. We don't need any more madness here."
Cassian looked at him with cold eyes, his tone sharp but calm.
"It's not imagination, Mr. Brenner. The sulfur I smell right now didn't come from her imagination. Something is here, and it won't leave just because you ignore it. Quinn, what you did didn't bring your mother, but it did attract something that doesn't belong in this world. I can stop it, but I need you to trust me."
Quinn nodded slowly, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Okay… I trust you. I just want it to stop. I don't want to feel it watching me all the time."
That night, Quinn went out with her friend Maggie, trying to clear her head after the failed audition. As they crossed the street, chatting about the academy, Quinn froze, her gaze fixed on a figure across the way: a hunched entity wearing an oxygen mask, its rattling breath echoing in her mind. Before Maggie could react, a car hit her, throwing her onto the pavement. Screams filled the air as Maggie called for help, and Cassian, who had been following them from the shadows, ran toward her, sensing the stench of sulfur emanating from where the figure had stood.
Hours later, back at the apartment, Quinn lay in bed with her legs in casts, her breathing irregular. Cassian entered, his bag in hand, while Sean watched him from the doorway with renewed distrust.
"What are you still doing here?" Sean asked, crossing his arms. "My daughter is injured, not possessed. What are you going to do, pray over her? This isn't a church."
Cassian ignored him for a moment, kneeling beside Quinn and examining the air with attentive fingers. Then he turned to Sean, his voice calm but filled with certainty.
"I'm not here to pray and leave. I'm here to face what she awakened. What happened tonight wasn't an accident. Something wanted her vulnerable, and it succeeded. Stay or go, but you won't stop me."
Sean clenched his fists but didn't respond. Cassian adjusted his crucifix and looked at Quinn, his eyes gleaming with determination. The echo of the dead resonated through the apartment, and he was ready to silence it.