Saints or Martyrs?

“What's eating Connor?” Smecker asked. “He's not himself.”

Connor had chain smoked through the entire meeting without uttering more than a handful of words. Passing on the pertinent information had fallen to Murphy. Once Eunice and Juan were confident they knew what had happened, they had said their goodbyes. Connor had opted to make his way to his bedroom where Ma was hovering over him and trying to figure out how to make her baby feel better. Only Smecker and Murphy remained in the kitchen.

Murphy had gotten a bottle and a couple of glasses. He sat down and poured an equal amount of whiskey in each glass handing one to Smecker.

“There's more ta tell ye. But only ye. Tis also wha's fashin me brother.” Murphy sat the bottle on the table. “I have a feelin that ye'll take it in without judgin us insane.”

“So there is more to the story than you let on to Bloom and Ybarra?” Paul asked lighting a cigarette.

“Ye know all about me and Connor, tha saint thing; How much do ye know about the demons?” Murphy asked. “Do ye know about tha imps?”

“You mean like little demons?” Smecker asked.

Murphy gave a short laugh. “Tis tha same thing I said ta Jezabel when she asked me if I knew about em. No not little demons, evil men and women who died without repentin. They can't rest when they die so Tha devil snaps em up ta do his will. Yesterday we had ta kill Yuri Petrova all o'er again.”

“Petrova?” Smecker sputtered “But you already killed him!”

Murphy drained his glass and refilled both. “Aye an we did it again.” Murphy lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “ Tis not men we're fightin this time. Tis demons.”

“Demons? Murphy do you know how crazy that sounds?” Smecker said blowing out a stream of smoke.

“Aye, just as crazy as me and Conn being saints. But does change tha fact tha God talks ta us and gave us a mission.” Murphy answered. “But I haven't even gotten ta tha crazy part yet. Some o tha demons are helpin us, like Jezabel. And A couple o weeks ago Me and Conn had a visit, from Lucifer. Some o tha demons are rebellin and Lilith is leadin it.”

“A demon rebellion? Okay....” Smecker leaned back in his chair. Any more bombshells you want to drop on me?”

“Pandora was working fer another demon named Bacchus. We need ta find him.” Murphy said calmly lighting another cigarette.

“You know, I think it's time I brushed up on my mythology. Bacchus was the Roman god of wine, he was know for these wild orgies.” Smecker said. “It was said that he had satyrs hanging around him and one of those satyrs was called Pan. I don't know maybe we can figure out how to find this Bacchus with a little research.” Smecker picked up his glass and drained it. “After all my grandmother used to tell me that all legends start with a grain of truth.”

*****

“What can I get you ma'am?” The dark haired bartender asked as he wiped the bar in front of Katie. “Wait let me guess.” The bartender hurried over to the tap and drew a lager glass of Guinness from the tap before setting down a coaster and placing the glass in front of her with a flourish. “You remind me of a couple of friends of mine. “Guinness, fresh from the tap!” The man stopped snapped his fingers and pulled a bottle of Jameson's down from the shelf before placing two shot glasses on the counter and filling them. Setting on in front of her he picked up the other, “Sláinte!”

“I was expecting Doc? Who are ye?” Katie asked.

“I'm just filling in for old Fuck Ass, Call me Roc.”

Katie shook the offered hand. “So ye work here?”

“Naw, just filling in this morning. I used to hang out here all the time.” The bartender said.

“Well then ye probably know me boys, Connor and Murphy.” She said.

“They are the ones who taught me what Sláinte means. They were very good friends of mine, before. I still talk to them from time to time not as much as I'd like though.”

“Wait! Wha did ye say yer name was?” Katie paled

“I guess they mentioned me, was really hoping they hadn't. It makes things so much easier when you don't have to go through all that ghost crap first.” Roc slid a hand through his hair. “First, I'm not here to hurt you, Connor and Murphy would kill me! Well I'm already dead so they would re-kill me. I'm here to let you know that the guys are gonna be okay.

You pray all the time over them. I'm just letting you God hears. I have to go now, don't worry about them, they have someone watching over them.”

*****

“Well, shit!” Dolly said. “Wilson is dead, that's supposed to be the end. You find a serial killer, you fix it so he can't kill again and end of story.”

“Unless someone decides to pick up the torch.” Duffy replied. “A copycat.”

“You know Duff, you're usually the smart one.” Dolly said. “Look at him. Exactly the same as the rest and we didn't release everything to the media. I mean they don't even know about Wilson. There's no way someone picked up a newspaper and just decided to carry on! Wilson had to be a frame job!”

“Or there has always been more than one killer.” Duffy pulled the cover back over William O'Malleys' body and stood up. He made his way over to the two Northside detectives.

“It's our boy.” Duffy told them. “I'll notify the agents in charge of the case.”

“Sir,” Everyone turned toward the uniformed officer who had approached them. “You need to see the basement. The guy had a fully stocked armory down there Everything from handguns to hi-powered rifles to explosive ordinance.”

“Call the Feds.” The detective told Duffy. “If he's got that much stuff in the basement it's way out of our league. Let them deal with it.”