Being a guidance counselor wasn’t easy. Thomas learned that the hard way.

  Kids streamed in all day—worried about grades, friends, the fact that they were worried at all. The worst part? It wasn’t like priest work. He couldn’t pray with them. Couldn’t point them toward faith. The office was small and cramped; when a student sat, they practically ended up in his lap. Whoever the last counselor was had left the place a disaster.

  After one long day, Thomas was ready to quit when Sarah bounced in.

  “Hi!” she said enthusiastically. It was good to see her human, clothed, and smiling—spending time with Kim and Macy had been good for her. “Mr. Bullinger is very nice.” She produced a pack of beef jerky like a trophy. “He bought this for me.”

  Thomas’s voice dropped dangerously low. “I don’t want you spending time with that man.”

  Sarah laughed. “It’s okay. Macy told me he’s a pervert.” She waved emphatically at the office window where Bullinger stood watching. “But we both agreed it would be funny if he tried anything.”

  Thomas smirked and shook his head. “Don’t take advice from Macy.”

  “Hey, what’s that smell?” Sarah crinkled her nose. She leaned in, sniffing Thomas’s chest; he pushed back gently. She growled deeply, then shoved her hand into his jacket pocket and yanked out his cellphone.

  “Come on, I need that!”

  “It’s evil!” she insisted.

  “Look, I get wolves don’t like them—” Sarah snapped the phone in half before he could finish.

  Thomas was about to lose it until something small clattered to the floor. He grabbed Sarah’s arm before she could crush it. “I just want to see.”

  A tiny bone lay on the carpet.

  “Go ahead,” he said solemnly.

  Sarah crushed it like a bug—along with the rest of the phone.

  “Kim should be in the cafeteria now,” Thomas said. “Can you spend some time with her?”

  Sarah nodded, a little dejected. “I was going to play with Mr. Bullinger!”

  Thomas glanced at the man’s office door. “All things in their time, little one,” he said, iron in his tone. Then softer: “Sarah, sweetheart, I have to do something important. I need you to stay safe right now.”

  Sarah cocked her head. “What exactly do you think I have to worry about?”

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  “Advice from Macy,” he teased.

  Sarah laughed as she left. “I’ll listen to Kim. I promise.”

  Thomas took her at her word—though he knew her promise meant she’d try. She wasn’t powerful enough to take down the wendigo alone. Last time it would’ve killed her if he hadn’t been there. The thought scared him.

  Sarah had a way of getting into people’s hearts. He was told he had a way with her—with werewolves in general. No one really had a “way” with them. At best, you recognized they were storms you could occasionally nudge in a direction. If something happened to Sarah, the packs would storm the cities and cull every supernatural creature in their path. It would tear his heart out. But he had to figure something out.

  Thomas arrived at St. Joseph’s parish just as afternoon Mass was ending. He sat through the liturgy, going through the motions while his mind raced. Why did Jill get him that phone? How did she get him this job? What happened to Sekwan, the old housekeeper?

  The blurring of lines. That’s what brought the old Order down. The more you justified evil in the name of the greater good, the more evil you were willing to do.

  “Father Jeffery, is it?” Thomas said, joining the aging priest in the pew.

  “Yes. Tell me, are you Catholic, my son?”

  “Episcopalian.”

  “Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I was a Templar.” Thomas held out his old badge. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with us.”

  “I know as much as any priest. We mainly use exorcists these days. Less secretive. Nothing good thrives in the shadows.”

  Thomas nodded. “Don’t I know it.”

  “Do you need the services of an exorcist?”

  Thomas shrugged. “Maybe. But right now I just want to know if a woman named Jillian has been to Mass. If she’s taken part in the Eucharist.”

  The old priest looked up. “Have you taken Mass or Communion recently?”

  Thomas felt uncomfortable. “It’s been a while.”

  Jeffery nodded gravely. “We have a local man—sort of local. Great mountain of a man. Snake handler back home. He’s worked with our exorcist before. Never misses church on a hunt. His Bible is as dog-eared as mine. Tell you what, Thomas. You tell me when you last went to church, and I’ll tell you when Jillian did.”

  “It’s been a few months,” he admitted reluctantly. “It’s hard to talk to God.”

  “It’s always hard to start.” Jeffery smiled. “No, Jillian has never been here.”

  Thomas sat up suddenly, hand on his dagger. “How did you know my name?”

  “You may be a lapsed Catholic, but that little hound you travel with has been here almost every morning. God have mercy on us.” He shook his head.

  “Oh… I guess I should apologize. I’m supposed to watch her.”

  The priest laughed. “Oh yes. And are you also supposed to surf on lava?” He held up his hands to stop any apology. “I used to serve in Minnesota. They have a pack up there. I’m familiar with them.”

  “I better go.”

  “I’d like to pray for you before you leave. Will you let me?”

  Thomas nodded. The priest placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Lord Jesus Christ, Eternal High Priest, look with mercy on Your servant Thomas. You know the shadows he hunts and the shadows that linger in his own heart. It is not the beasts without that most threaten his soul, but the faith once bright now grown dim—hardened by grief, refusal, and anger turned to ash. Recall him to Your voice. Renew the fire of Your Holy Spirit within him. Wash away every stain of despair and every lie that whispers he is too far gone. Mary, Mother of Sorrows, stand beside him; Saint Michael, defend him in battle. Do not let him be lost in the hunt. Bring him home to You—whole, contrite, and trusting once more in the mercy greater than any darkness he faces. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

  Thomas looked up. His eyes were clear. “I’ll be at Mass tomorrow.”

  The priest smiled. “Try to bring Jillian. And for the love of heaven, make sure Sarah eats before she comes. I’m almost eighty years old—I can’t keep finding a wolf raiding my fridge at 6 a.m.”

  Thomas sighed. “I’ll try. On both counts.”

  The priest smiled warmly as Thomas turned to leave.