Chapter 10: A Priestess?

The heavy door eased open. One middle-aged man stood guard at the entrance while another led Ethan Greaves inside. Behind the concealed door was what looked like a private office. "Office" was not quite right. A linked desk nearly ten feet long faced the doorway, but the left side of the room held workout equipment too. A barbell. Dumbbells. A treadmill. The right side was partitioned off. Through a carved, openwork screen, Ethan could make out an old-fashioned tea room. Behind the desk stood a glass bookcase split into two sections. The left was neatly lined with books. The right displayed delicate little curios, porcelain and metal pieces among them. A man in a white dress shirt lounged comfortably in his chair with his sleeves rolled up. He held a cigar with a band around it, exhaling thick smoke in lazy curls. Yet the room did not stink of tobacco. Instead, it carried a faint fragrance, something like sandalwood. "You can go," the man in the white shirt said with a smile, flicking his hand. The middle-aged man who had brought Ethan in nodded and backed out, pulling the door shut behind him. Ethan studied the man. White shirt, top button undone. A steel watch with a big face on his wrist. Heavy arm hair, a tough, rugged build. His hair was slicked back in a classic villain's style. Stubble ringed his broad face, and his features were sharp enough to fit the "handsome older guy" type teenage girls liked these days. "You're here? Sit." The man acted as if they were old friends. He plucked a cigar from the box beside him and tossed it over. "I don't smoke." Ethan meant to refuse, but the cigar was already flying at him. He caught it on instinct, arms folding across his chest. The man chuckled. "Good stuff. Authentic Baran import. Five hundred bucks a stick." Ethan considered it, slipped it into his pocket, then pulled out a chair and sat down. Seeing how easily Ethan went along with it, the man took a hard drag and drew the smoke deep, like he was trying to swallow the whole thing. Ethan froze, genuinely stunned. "I've never smoked a cigar," he said, "but I know you're not supposed to inhale." "That's for other people," the man shot back, perfectly righteous. "I paid for it. If I don't inhale, isn't that just money down the drain?" Fine. I'm not arguing with you. "Let's do introductions," the man said. "You can call me Mr. Scurr. I invited you here with no ill intent. I was just curious about you." "Curious?" Ethan found the introduction odd. Why not give his actual name? "Yes." Mr. Scurr's tone stayed light. "I know the Demon Suppression Bureau has been watching you because you walked out of the Demon Realm in one piece. And you even had an awakening in there." That alone told Ethan this man was not with the Demon Suppression Bureau. He tested the waters. "Then you're… the Demon Extermination Department?" Mr. Scurr smiled and shook his head. He rose and paced a few steps before continuing, "I'm sincerely inviting you to join the Heavenly Palace." "The Heavenly Palace?" Ethan blinked. It was the first time he had heard of an organization like that. In Veyra, demon-slaying fell under the Demon Suppression Bureau. Exterminating evil fell under the Demon Extermination Department. So what was the Heavenly Palace? "That's right. The Heavenly Palace." Mr. Scurr returned to his chair. One hand pinched his cigar; the other toyed with a cigar cutter as he spoke, smiling. "I know the Demon Suppression Bureau wants to take you. They're trying to recruit you. But think about it. Those people are a pack of lunatics." Ethan lifted an eyebrow and said nothing. Still, he had reason to suspect the man across from him had some kind of fidgeting problem. His hands never seemed to stop. "Join the Demon Suppression Bureau and what do you get? A few bucks a month, and you risk your life every day." Mr. Scurr leaned forward slightly. "But the Heavenly Palace is different. Join us, and you'll get a generous salary every month. Ten, twenty times what they pay. There's a year-end bonus too. And on top of that, you keep your freedom. If a job feels too dangerous, you have the right to refuse it." Ethan did not reject him immediately. Mostly because he worried that if he did, this man might snap and start killing. "What kind of… jobs?" Ethan asked. "The same kind the Demon Suppression Bureau does," Mr. Scurr said. "Only our clients are the rich. And they're generous." Ethan understood. The Heavenly Palace also hunted demons and wiped out evil, but they only served people with money, taking commissions in return. "Think about it. Compared to our benefits, if those Demon Suppression Bureau guys aren't lunatics, what are they? Oh, and one more thing…" He was cut off by a shrill, urgent ring. Mr. Scurr glanced at the phone on the desk and frowned. After a brief silence, he picked it up anyway. "Hello." Ethan, seated across from him, strained to listen. At that moment, he realized his hearing had sharpened as well. He could actually hear the voice on the other end. And it was crystal clear. "Simon Scurr, let Ethan Greaves go." The voice belonged to a man, deep and powerful, edged with authority. Ethan: "???" He suddenly understood why "Mr. Scurr" had refused to give his name earlier. Simon Scurr… That was painfully embarrassing. "Simon Looske?" Simon Scurr recognized him instantly by voice. Ethan's heart jolted. It was really Simon Looske? Even after realizing who it was, Simon Scurr remained calm. He smiled as he spoke. "Simon Looske, I know you're impressive. But he's with me. And it's not like I'm stealing him from you. After all… a transcendent who had an awakening in the Demon Realm. It's perfectly reasonable for the Heavenly Palace to extend an olive branch. Besides, I'm only giving him a chance to choose." "Let him go." The voice stayed low and forceful, the words clipped and economical, as if speaking cost money. Simon Scurr's expression turned icy. He sneered. "I believe he's a smart man. He'll make the right choice." On the other end, Simon Looske fell silent for a long time. Then he gave a soft laugh. "He's a priestess. Are you sure… you want to recruit him?" Simon Scurr's face changed violently. His smile vanished in an instant. He lifted his head and stared at Ethan as if he were seeing a ghost. "Your awakening… you're a priestess?" Ethan froze. After a moment of silence, he nodded. It seemed… that was true? "Damn it. Bad luck!" Simon Scurr slammed his fist on the desk and leaned back hard, stretching the phone cord taut. "Tell your people to wait where they are. I'll bring him back!" He hung up. Simon Scurr panted, then took another savage drag from his cigar, eyes locked on Ethan like he wanted to burn a hole through him. "You're actually… a priestess?" Ethan could not help himself. "What's wrong with being a priestess?" Simon Scurr shook his head. "What a waste." His voice turned complicated, half mockery and half… pity. "If your awakened ability was something as stupid as blowing bubbles by tilting your head back, I'd still think you had potential. But it had to be priestess." Ethan frowned. "Sure, priestess has an important role," Simon Scurr said, the chill returning to his tone. "But to the Heavenly Palace, a priestess isn't worth much. And do you know why the priestess profession disappeared?" Ethan shook his head. "Because becoming a priestess means you've already stepped one foot into hell." A cold, sinister smile spread across Simon Scurr's face.