New Novel: House M.D: The Doctor of Death
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Chapter 118 – There Is Always One to Blame
"How am I supposed to clean all this blood in this deserted place?" Wednesday asked, completely unaware of having just been part of a vampire massacre.
"There's a nearby base where we can wash up. After that, we'll continue on our way." Jonathan handed a chocolate to Wednesday, who was watching the bar fade into the distance as if she were waiting for something.
Boom!
In the distance, the bar that stayed open until dawn exploded, leaving only a massive crater in the ground.
Sitting in the cabin of a helicopter, Jonathan said: "Mission accomplished. Call in the helicopters."
He still had to leave the cleanup work to the workers who needed to clear things out before blowing everything up, but since he was in a hurry, he decided to skip that part—not without first using talcum powder from a trucker who wasn't too far away.
He remembered Aisha, the girl who had asked him to save her father.
"Sir, no other survivors have been found."
After the explosion, Jonathan stared at the enormous pit with abandoned trucks and sighed. He looked at the time and, knowing dawn would break at any moment, asked: "No more movement in the surroundings?"
"Negative. No traces of additional vampires."
"Process the survivors, burn this place, and let's go home," Jonathan said as he looked at a necklace that had been handed to him after checking all the trucks.
Once again, they had won, but the feeling for his soldiers was bitter. Who knows how many people died in this place.
That was the life they lived…
…
Military Base, Texas.
Jonathan had changed clothes. Now he wore a simple priest's suit that reflected the solitude of his life.
The decisions that had brought him here had shaped him into a reaper of evil, someone who would not hesitate to take on any case placed in his hands.
But there were great problems in his hands—things he could not solve alone and for which he needed the help of others.
First were the followers of The Order who worked under his command—ordinary people trained to the point of becoming relentless killing machines.
But that didn't make them immune to dark spirits, which were far stronger. And to prevent them from becoming victims… what was he supposed to do?
"Everyone can blame me…" Jonathan felt for the first time a weight in his chest that could not be put into words.
Every time he saved someone, many more blamed him for things that were not his responsibility. If being the warrior of light meant he had to receive the criticism and curses of the people he saved, how was he supposed to find his balance?
"My God, grant me balance in the midst of others' judgment. Let my spirit not fall under the weight of guilt that does not belong to me."
"Allow me to clearly see my own path, even if others cannot understand my actions or intentions. Grant me serenity to accept that I will not always be recognized, and strength to continue doing good even in silence."
"Let injustice not fade me, let ingratitude not wound me. Sustain me, Lord, so my heart remains firm, so I do not forget who I am nor what I came here to do."
"Even if they blame me, You know the truth. Even if they do not see it, You know my purpose is to save and serve."
"Guide me toward balance, peace, and light."
After saying that, Jonathan, who was kneeling in front of his bed, suddenly opened his eyes and said: "Amen…"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
At that very moment, his door echoed loudly and, without waiting for a response, Wednesday—wearing a long black dress—entered.
"Are you feeling better?" Jonathan asked, getting up from the floor.
"Yes, especially now that I was able to clean my clothes of blood." Wednesday replied, pointing at her silver ring and saying: "A gift from the former priest."
"The one from the bar?" Jonathan remembered the priest named Jacob. He looked at his file, and surprisingly, he had been an exorcist priest.
"Yes."
"Well, then what we'll do now is eat something and head back."