Calling Father Mike a former archbishop was no small statement. A title like that carried enormous authority within the Church and placed him far above an ordinary parish priest.
The supernatural Church differed from the institution Anderson remembered from his previous world, but its basic structure remained familiar. Deacons, priests, and bishops formed the ordained hierarchy while administrative offices determined how much territory and authority each clergyman controlled. Faith itself did not become stronger simply because someone held a higher title, yet rank decided which resources and personnel that person could command.
The Pope stood at the top of the organization. Anderson had spoken to the white-robed old man several times over the phone and understood that his authority was comparable to that of a head of state.
The College of Cardinals served beneath him. They advised the Pope, managed the highest affairs of the Church, and elected his successor when the position became vacant. Patriarchs and senior archbishops governed enormous territories while metropolitan archbishops supervised groups of dioceses.
Diocesan bishops managed individual regions and the priests beneath them. Lower offices handled local parishes, investigations, and ordinary Church work.
Father Mike had once served as an archbishop with influence over a large supernatural jurisdiction. His retirement did not erase the connections or authority he had accumulated during those years.
The old man now wore a simple vest and faded jeans. A pipe rested between his lips and his relaxed appearance bore little resemblance to the stern Church official Anderson remembered.
"So what really brought you here?" Father Mike asked.
He tapped the pipe against an ashtray before drawing in another breath and releasing a slow ring of smoke.
"I don't believe you drove all this way just to visit me."
Anderson chuckled.
"I need you to investigate someone."
Father Mike immediately gave him a knowing look.
Anderson coughed once and opened his backpack. He removed the file Father Lutz had given him and placed it on the counter.
This visit had always been part of his backup plan.
Before arriving at St. Lutz Church, Anderson had already considered the possibility that Maurice Theriault might be dead. If Maurice had survived, Anderson could have questioned him and traced the possession directly. Since that was no longer possible, he needed someone with access to international Church records.
Hannah could uncover almost anything inside the United States. She had contacts among police departments, government offices, criminal organizations, and private intelligence networks. A supernatural trail that began in another country was different.
She would not know which monasteries, sealed ruins, secret cults, or Church outposts were connected to Maurice's movements. Father Mike had access to people who would.
The old priest accepted the file and slowly turned through its pages. He stopped when he reached the photograph of Maurice's corpse.
The injuries were extensive. Blood covered much of the body and several wounds suggested a violent struggle. The fatal injury was obvious.
A metal spike had entered through one eye and continued into the back of his skull.
"An evil spirit?" Father Mike asked.
Anderson remembered the ominous presence surrounding Lorraine and shook his head.
"I don't think this was caused by an ordinary spirit."
Father Mike examined the photograph again. His voice became more serious.
"Then you believe it was a demon."
"Yes."
Father Mike paused and looked up at the towering priest. Anderson's expression remained calm as though they were discussing an ordinary criminal case instead of a demonic entity capable of crossing psychic connections.
The old man sighed.
"All right. If a demon is involved, I'll investigate Maurice's history."
"Good."
Anderson sensed the change in Father Mike's mood and decided not to press the subject further. He lifted his backpack from the counter and glanced toward the piece of flesh beneath the microscope.
"What exactly are you studying?"
Father Mike placed Maurice's file beside him.
"You know about vampires, don't you?"
"Vampires?"
Anderson raised an eyebrow.
Of course he knew about them. His previous world had produced countless movies and television series about vampires. Some portrayed them as savage monsters while others turned them into beautiful immortals trapped in endless romances.
He had even watched Twilight, though sparkling in sunlight had never seemed like a useful survival trait.
"Yes," Father Mike said. "My current research concerns their regeneration."
He gestured toward the flesh sample.
"Most vampires look almost identical to humans. Their internal structure is also remarkably similar, yet damaged tissue heals at a speed no human body should be capable of achieving."
Anderson's mouth twitched.
Detailed biological research was not his specialty. He preferred simple conclusions such as whether a creature could be killed with bullets, fire, holy water, or decapitation.
Still, the subject reminded him of a certain young man who traveled everywhere on a Harley-Davidson.
"Healy brought this sample to you?"
Healy was Father Mike's son and a registered exorcist. He wandered across the country while calling himself a champion of justice who protected innocent people from darkness.
The truth was less heroic.
Healy had money, freedom, and a dangerous need for excitement. Hunting supernatural creatures was his version of extreme sports.
Few people could tolerate Father Mike's personality for long. Healy was one of them.
The old priest smiled at the mention of his son.
"Yes. He delivered it yesterday."
Anderson looked once more at the flesh beneath the microscope. He was genuinely curious about the vampires of this world.
Stories from his previous life often described ancient vampires as unnaturally attractive aristocrats. They wore expensive clothes, lived in enormous mansions, and treated ordinary people like livestock.
He wondered how closely reality matched the legends.
Father Mike noticed his interest.
"Would you like to help?"
Encouragement entered the old man's eyes.
"You have a sharp mind and a strong medical background. If we determine the source of vampire regeneration, this research could earn international recognition."
He leaned closer.
"We might even win a Nobel Prize."
"A Nobel Prize?"
Anderson immediately looked away and adjusted the strap of his backpack.
"That has no value to me."
He turned and started walking toward the exit.
"Only one thing here is useful."
Father Mike leaned against the counter with one hand. He took another puff from his pipe and watched the large priest move away.
"What is it?"
Anderson stopped at the door and looked back with a smile.
"Tell Healy that my account information hasn't changed. Remind him to transfer the money."
Father Mike's face darkened.
He understood at once that Anderson expected payment for the spirit powder and had decided to collect it through his son.
The old man waved his pipe in irritation.
"Get out. Stop trying to rob my son and get out of here."
Anderson shrugged.
"Heh."
He opened the door and left the room. The lock clicked behind him.
Father Mike stared at the closed entrance for several seconds. His gaze then returned to Maurice Theriault's file on the counter.
The humor slowly faded from his face.
He released a quiet sigh while mixed emotions appeared in his eyes.
"That boy really is..."
His voice trailed off before he finished the thought.