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By the time Tomáš pulled off the highway, Lauren was ravenous. She hadn’t been this hungry since before she found out she was pregnant. All she could think about was a big fat juicy cheeseburger and maybe some fries.
Much to her dismay, Tomáš went in search of the petrol station first. She stayed in her seat as he got out at the gas pump. To distract herself from her hunger, she thought about the words in Slovenian. Bencinska črpalka ... gas station. She let the words roll around in her mind before trying it out. She’d never spoken Slovenian before. The Slavic languages were interesting. She found she liked the feel of the words in her brain, and on her tongue. The words were melodic, but the consonants slurred into one another. The vowels often seemed to be added as after thoughts.
Americans said gasoline, most Europeans said petrol, while the Germans had to be the odd man out calling it benzene. The Slovenians called its bencin, and their word for gas pump referred to it as benzene, too. Perhaps their close proximity to Germany influenced the choice of words.
“The burger place is just up the way,” Tomáš said without preamble when he got back in the car. He started the engine and pulled out of the drive.
Lauren forgot all about the words for gasoline and let her thoughts return to a fat burger. She hoped there would be pickles and yellow mustard, maybe a nice ripe tomato. Her stomach growled at the thought of it.
“This is it?” Lauren asked when he pulled up in front of what looked like a cross between the old Dairy King across the street from her high school and a log cabin. Okrepčavalnica “Rocky”, the vinyl sign announced. Bistro Rocky
“Trust me on this one,” Kovač said with a grin as they got out of the car. “The cook is from Toronto.”
“Let me guess ... Rocky?”
Tomáš just smiled.
* * *
The Dark One slipped past the crowd outside, unseen. He came around to the back of the burger shop and rapped on the screen door. “Delivery,” he called out.
“Bout damned time!” The cook groused without looking up from the grill where he was flipping burgers. “Bring it in already!”
When Rocky came to check the order, the Dark One wrapped his hand around the chef’s throat and silenced him with a fiery gaze and a wicked grip. The cook’s eyes bulged in their sockets as the Deceiver crushed his larynx, then assumed his form. He shoved the stunned victim into the small supply room. He slammed the door and left him to die.
He took over the man’s work, grinning wickedly to himself as he watched the front counter out of the corner of his eye. A few moments later, his quarry stepped up to the cashier. He watched as they placed their order.
The woman made his blood curdle. An aura of goodness stained her image and he sneered as he gazed through the service window at her. He could take her out here and now, he decided, debating if he should poison her food or lure her away from her escort and rip her throat out as he had the old woman. She’d come after him bare handed in a terrified blood rage, trying to protect the old woman. He had tried to finish her then, but she had powers he couldn’t overtake. He’d knocked her over the island in the kitchen and she’d come up with the knife and came slashing at his eyes. She would not be easily defeated. He would have done so then, if he could, but just touching her burned his flesh, and he’d retreated; unprepared for the battle.
“Lahko naročim Cheeseburger, krompirček in Coca Cola?” the woman said, gazing over at the menu. She spoke perfect Slovenian without a hint of an accent. The Devil was impressed. The woman had skills, skills that came with a foul taint of Holy magic around her countenance. No, he would not defeat her easily. But he would defeat her. Somehow, he would.
The detective turned and looked directly at him. “Hey, Rocky! How’s it going?” The Deceiver stared at him a moment before he remembered his role. He nodded and saluted him with the spatula before flipping the burgers again, smashing the meat into the grill. “Long time, no see.”
How would the chef respond? He pondered a moment. “Been a while,” the cook answered. “Welcome back.” The words came out in Slovenian, with a distinctly Canadian accent. It surprised even the Devil himself.
The detective nodded, but said nothing else, which relieved the Devil who watched the woman out of the corner of his eye. He smashed the burgers against the grill, still paying little attention to what he was doing.
* * *
Tomáš finished ordering and paid for the meal. Lauren turned and went to the refrigerated cooler, taking out two bottles of Coca Cola, popping the tops off, before handing one to Kovač. He led her over to a picnic table under the portico. It was raining lightly. The day had gone cool. The sky was gray and growing darker. Their breath hung in clouds around their faces, and Tomáš’s cheeks had gone pink.
The smell of meat, grease, and fried onions permeated the small semi-outdoor dining space. “This place smells so good,” Lauren said, as they sat down to wait.
“I got us an order of poutine,” he said.
“Poutine?”
“It’s Canadian. French fried potatoes with cheese curds and gravy,” he said. “Ever had it?”
“Never,” she said. “I usually stick to salads and grilled chicken. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I rarely crave a hamburger, much less one with cheese.”
“Just promise me you’ll try to keep it down?” He glanced back over at his car. A light mist began to fall, and he hoped it’d rain hard enough to save him a trip to the carwash.
“I don’t know what came over me today.” Lauren shook her head. “I wasn’t even the least bit nauseous, then all of a sudden ... boom! It hit me. Twice.”
“I realize, I haven’t been around that many pregnant women, but I thought this kind of thing only happened in the mornings.”
“Huge misnomer.” Lauren shook her head, reaching for the cold bottle of soda.
“Tukaj je tvoja hrana.” The chef came out with their order on a plastic tray. “I hope you are hungry.”
Lauren suddenly turned green. She bolted from the table. She disappeared behind the building but there was no doubt in his mind what had happened.
Tomáš shook his head. “I think she got some bad Chlebíčky.”
“Too bad.” Rocky shrugged. “Shame for all this food to go to waste.”
“It won’t all go to waste.” Tomáš reached for the basket of fries slathered in gravy, topped with melting curds of cheese.
“Should I wrap up her meal for later? Looks like you are traveling. Might be a while before you get where you’re going,” the chef said, prodding for the information. Surely someone would give him what he needed.
“No. I’ll give her a chance to eat it,” Tomáš said. “She swore she was starving.”
“But you have many miles to go, yes?” Rocky insisted.
“Not so many,” Tomáš said. He stabbed his plastic fork into the dish and took a bite. He’d been anticipating something he’d had so long ago that was wonderful. Sadly, it didn’t live up to his memory. Something was ... off. “Did you change your recipe?”
“Huh?” the chef looked affronted. “You don’t like it?”
Tomáš wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. “No, it’s good. Better than I remembered.” He realized he might not have come off as genuine.
“Bah!” Rocky grunted in a deep voice, slapping away the comment with a wave. “I’m not here for the five-star reviews. Vsi so kritiki!” Every one’s a critic. He turned, scowling over his shoulder as he went back to the kitchen, keeping a wary eye out for the woman. She was the one he wanted, but he just couldn’t seem to get close to her. Maybe he needed to get the cop out of his way.
The Dark One waited at the doorway, watching to see if the woman returned. When she finally did, he hoped to eavesdrop on their conversation. She sat back down and took a long drink from the bottle of soda, then picked up the burger and took a huge bite. Her companion stared at her in disbelief.
This is never going to work, Enlil decided. I have to get close to her. He needed the man out of the way, too.
Quietly, he went behind the building and moved swiftly, reappearing in a new form as he came around the other side.
* * *
Lauren glanced up as she heard the sounds of a child crying. A little girl came around the building wailing. Lauren leaned over the railing and called her over. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Are you okay?”
“I lost my puppy,” the child sniffed.
“Do you need help finding it?” Lauren started to rise.
Tomáš caught her wrist and cast a wicked glare at her. She sank back to the bench, looking wounded.
“I’ll help,” he said. “You, eat ... while you can.”
Lauren stared at her food for a moment, suddenly wondering if she could. She glanced at the little girl, who seemed angry. Lauren couldn’t tell why. Her attention returned back to her stomach as it churned momentarily. She wanted to be sick ... again. Forgetting the child and the detective, she sat with her face in her hands. The food that had once smelled so good now turned in her stomach.
She opened her eyes to inspect it, and gasped, nearly falling off the back of the bench as the burger seemed to writhe with maggots that fell out from beneath the lettuce leaf and the bun.
“Sheesh, Lauren,” Tomáš shook his head at her sympathetically. “You said you were starving, but you look like you’re about to—”
She flung herself from the dining area a second time, rushing away, collapsing near a tree as her stomach revolted again, and then again. God, what unholy torture was this? Even as she vomited, her hunger reminded her of the need to nourish her body and feed her unborn child.
Tomáš followed the little girl the other direction, glancing back over his shoulder at Lauren. She shrugged, pathetically, as she leaned against the tree. He turned and shrugged back. She waved him off as she managed to stand on unsteady legs.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, she stumbled a few steps then managed to make her way back toward her seat. She fisted her hands on the table to steady herself as she hesitated to glance down. The aroma of the food made her mouth water. She lifted the bun off the bread and was stunned to find there was nothing wrong ... nothing there but grilled meat, onions, mustard, pickle, tomato, and lettuce. I must be losing my mind. She sniffed at the food. Still, her guts twisted in her abdomen. She turned away, her eye searching for Tomáš, finding him and the little girl wandering down the street. She could hear him whistling for a dog that never answered.
After a moment, her stomach settled, and her hunger returned with a vengeance.
* * *
When Tomáš came back, her burger was gone, along with all of the poutine. He gazed at the empty basket, then at his ward. She looked up at him sheepishly, wiping her mouth with the paper napkin.
“Did you find it?”
“No,” he said. “I sent her home to get her mother to help.” He glanced back in the direction the girl had been heading, but no longer saw her. “I’m always suspicious when a child claims to have lost a dog. Even more so when the dog can’t be found.”
“Why so suspicious?”
Tomáš looked at her sternly. “That’s the oldest trick in the book,” he said. “Human traffickers use children to lure their victim ... usually a sympathetic woman ... away from their companions. Once they get them out of sight of their friends, there’s usually a van waiting to snatch them up and whisk them away, never to be heard from again. You’ve got mark written all over your face, you know.”
“What?” Lauren snapped. “Are you serious?”
“I’ve worked dozens of missing person cases with the same M.O.,” he said.
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Lauren said.
“Oh?”
“I’ve already been kidnapped and shoved in a van,” she said. “Fool me once ...”
“Shame on you.” Tomáš chuckled. “I guess you liked the food?”
“Loved it.” Lauren beamed. “Poutine, huh?”
“Yeah,” Tomáš nodded.
“Best stuff I ever tasted. Slovenian food is good.”
“Canadian.” He reminded her. “But, it was better the last time I was here. Rocky must be having an off day.” Tomáš shrugged. “We need to hurry up and get a move on.”
“I’m done,” Lauren said. “Just waiting on you.”
He picked up his burger and made short work of it. He polished it off in five bites. “Come on,” he said, wiping his mouth on his napkin. “We’re not far from the church.”
Lauren tipped back her bottle and drained it. She stifled a belch as she gathered up their trash. Tomáš took the tray to the trash can, dumping it in the receptacle, leaving the tray and the baskets on the shelf. He glanced back at the chef in the kitchen and gave him a wave.
* * *
The church? What cursed church? Enlil seethed. That insufferable woman was more torment than Eve ever dreamt of being. He’d been successful in tempting the first woman, but this ...creature ... there was something about her he could not pinpoint. She was the Chosen One, he was certain of it. She had to be. He hadn’t been able to witness the defeat of his Estonian agent first hand, but he suspected she had been the one who had taken out his most powerful human minion. He needed humans. Needed them to serve him, to intercede on his behalf and ensure the propagation of chaos, hatred, and war. Fortunately most were easily plied, and more than willing to cooperate. His current minion would be most helpful when the time came, he was certain of it.
Not that woman, though. She had rebuked him without hesitation on the mountain top. He’d been afraid of that when he saw her picture in the media. He knew his brother Enki had been conspiring with a human. The peace accord the humans were using to try and drain him of his powers wouldn’t work. This woman was a known accomplice with the ambassador that was leading the American task force and the United Nations to push the accord off onto other smaller nations. Bullies! They were all bullies and cowards. Well, maybe not this woman, but she had an audacity about her. He sensed it.
He stood in an assumed form in her living room and eyed her down. He knew from the moment he’d laid eyes on her that she would be his salvation — or his destruction. He suspected now it was the latter, but he had no time to ponder on it. He needed to figure out which church they’d been speaking of. There were many churches in the region. Some were grandiose, others were as plain as a church could be. Ancient religions were not entirely dead here. Christianity was relatively new in the area.
Before Catholicism rose in Slovenia, the region was heavily ruled by paganism. Those were the good old days! In the 10th century, Christian texts were first written in the Slovenian language in monasteries by monks. By the 16th century, Slovenia was over taken by the Protestant reformation, thanks to the ideas of Martin Luther. Around the same time, Turkish armies occupied Slovenia for more than 200 years, yet the Turks never managed to conquer the whole of Slovenia. Still, there were signs of their presence in the mosques that remained.
The greatest dark victory of the modern era came when the Islamic community in Ljubljana struggled to build a mosque for nearly 40 years. The Dark One played a hand in preventing it, if only passively. While the official reason for its delay had been an issue with the planned location, 9/11 made the world so xenophobic, the city council officially pulled the plug on the project. No, they weren’t looking for a Muslim church. 72% of the region remained Catholic. The Holy Roman Church had the most consecrated ground in the country. It had to be a Catholic church. It just had to be.
The Dark One stood on a hill overlooking the town, watching as cars passed on the roadway. He wasn’t sure what he would do, but he could feel the pull of that woman on him as he stood thinking on her. The dark SUV seemed to have an aura around it as it rounded the bend and came into view. Aha! There she was. Now, where was she going?
There were dozens, if not hundreds of the All-Father’s temples in this region. Churches stood for centuries, despite his best efforts to bring them down. But as the Dark One stood on the hill, he gained a sense of her thoughts. She’d dropped her guard and allowed him into her. He only needed a second. But, he didn’t like what he learned. No, not one bit.