Father Nate uttered a silent prayer to himself as slowly, carefully he lit each of a dozen candles upon the altar. Clasping his hands together, his eyes slid closed in solemn contemplation as he communed with his God. He enjoyed the church in these quiet moments, late at night – the doors were always open, but few ventured in at such an hour and he found the quiet wonderfully peaceful and calming. It was still a novelty to him, the quiet; his previous endeavours having been much louder.

It was a small church, rather Spartan in its decoration – a result of looting over the years had ground down previous pastors until finally they had given up on having anything of value in there. The stained glass windows remained, telling tales of the gospels, but that was as much colour that filled the place. You might think it would appear bleak and bare for it, but somehow the building still retained a warmth that Nate liked to think was the light of God.

“Nathaniel.”

Slowly he opened his eyes and raised his head, looking towards the crucifix that hung on the wall above the pulpit. Turning to the figure behind him, he saw nothing to identify the visitor – a long black robe shrouded the body, which was tall enough to be male or female alike. The face was hidden deep beneath a black hood. Still, he didn’t need any identifying features.

“Now that’s a name I’ve not heard in some time.”

“That’s what happens when you give up a name. People stop using it.”

“And what of your name, Charmian? Does your reputation still precede you?”

The hood was pushed back slightly to reveal the face of a woman with a button nose and a stern expression on her face. She looked positively Raphaelite, as if her cheekbones had been chiselled from marble by the master himself. Raven hair tumbled around her ears, and her eyes were a stormy grey. That didn’t bode well; they weren't supposed to be that way.

“Well, it’s not the most low profile profession.”

“Indeed. We always had it far easier.”

“I’m impressed, Nathaniel.”

“Nate, please. And with what?”

“The fact that you’re entirely un-shocked to see me and you haven’t demanded to know why I’m here yet.”

“Well, these days you are far my superior,” he smiled wryly as he turned back to the candles and started clearing the paraphernalia away. Stowing the matches away in a drawer, he absently ran a finger down the open page of the Bible and smiled at the passage he saw. How apt. “I don’t suppose I’m in a position to demand anything of you any more.”

Lowering her hood so that her head was entirely free she took a few meandering steps towards the altar, her eyes drinking in her surroundings. “How very you, Nate. No frills.”

“You know I like to keep things clear of clutter.”

“So I do. But you can imagine I haven’t come here to chat about old times, so how about we skip right to it?”

“Then the angel of the Lord moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left,” Nate recited. The look he received was one of perplexed irritation. “Numbers,” he advised her smiling.

“I don’t care how many times you do it; the cryptic shit with the random Bible verses doesn’t get any funnier. You could at least mix up the religious texts once in a while. How are you with the Guru Granth Sahib?”

“I thought it appropriate,” he replied as he closed the book, “since you wouldn’t be here unless you had nowhere else to turn. Rock and a hard place, eh?”

“It’s possible you’ve gone even more annoying since you retired.”

“It’s possible,” he smirked indulgently. “Come along, Charmian; tell me what it is you want.”

“I want to know why you broke your promise.”

A deep frown passed over Nate’s face, and in absent minded fashion he tugged at his dog collar while deep furrows formed over his forehead. “I’m not sure which of my many promises you mean, but I don’t remember breaking any.”

“I saw Michael. You know, that guy you promised was gone.”

His face drained of colour. “Oh dear.”

“You swore to me that he wouldn’t be back.”

“I swore to you you’d never know him again,” Nate said with a deep sigh, rubbing his face in his hands. “Don’t you think we did a good job?”

“Oh, I didn’t think twice about him until we shook hands and it was like I’d stuck a wet finger in an outlet.”

Breathing out a heavy groan, Nate dropped onto a pew, his fingers dancing nervously in his lap. “I’m sorry, Charmian. We really thought we’d done enough to hide him from you.”

“Yep. Changed the name, appearance, profession. Everything except the buzzing in my ear, you know I didn’t even recognise it at first it’s been so long?”

“I’m sorry. We can change a lot, but we can’t change him.”

“And of course a single touch gave the game away. Darn. You could have warned me, you know. Then I could have just not touched people and remained in ignorant bliss.”

“Be a little awkward not touching people in your line, wouldn’t it? What purpose would it have served? It was easier to let you think he wasn’t coming back.”

“Well, that’s really not very honest of you, is it? And here I thought you were supposed to be a priest.”

“I wasn’t then.”

“Yeah. Still don’t understand why you’d give up one lifetime vow of servitude to retire and then immediately go get yourself another.”

Nate shrugged. “I consider it fun, not service.”

“Interesting idea of fun you have there. Lord knows I’d give up this shit.”

“Can you please remember you’re in a church even if you refuse to remember who you are?”

“Oh, I’ve just been reminded who I am,” she spat out. “A doomed wretch who’s going to be forced to go through the same old shit yet again because somebody thinks it’s amusing to watch me suffer. I thought it was only them who were supposed to get this crap.”

“And it’s only them who are supposed to despair.” His voice rang with a warning tone.

“Well you try living Groundhog Day see how you do. Anyway, that’s not the point, I need to know how I can fix this.”

“Fix it in what way?”

“Send him away. Disguise him from me again. Anything to change the channel.”

Nate scratched at his head, repressing an urge to sigh for the fiftieth time since she’d walked into the room. Her kind always were hot headed, came with the job, but Charmian didn’t often get desperate. He didn’t know how he was supposed to placate her – and in his deepest heart, he couldn’t blame her. He could give her all the speeches about faith and belief and loyalty he liked, but in a dark corner within he was kind of on her side. It was deeply unfair. She was right, suffering was not for their race.

“You know I can’t. You’re his guardian.”

“He seems to have been doing fine without me until now. And I’m not even supposed to BE a guardian.”

“And yet you are his despite the fact that you shouldn’t be. Interesting, huh?” Nate said without entirely managing to disguise his sarcasm. “You know the drill. It’s your duty and you can’t ignore it or change it.”

“Great. Fat lot of help you were.”

“Hey, I’m retired.”

His retort echoed into empty air.