Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 286 The Mystic's Tongue (First Update)

"This is the first time in all these years you've come to see me, and it's just to see Mother?" Damon Helstrom lowered her eyes, not looking at her sister sitting across from her. "What made you suddenly become such a dutiful daughter?"

Damon pretended to savor the food at the family restaurant, but in reality, he desperately wanted to leave; the leather sofas made him very uncomfortable. However, he couldn't do that; there was a reason he had accepted his sister's invitation to meet her.

He said, "I remember you selling those antiques of dubious origin in San Francisco. Are you planning to enjoy family life now that you've made money? I suggest you find a boyfriend; if I remember correctly, you only care about yourself—hopefully that poor guy can put up with your temper."

"And you, Damon?" Anna said with a sneer. "An ethics professor helping the church with exorcisms in his spare time? I didn't expect you to be so devout, to not even hate your own abilities. My dear brother, how are you getting along with Mother? Or do you think that devil is alright?"

"You said last time you'd never set foot in Portland again, and look what happened?"

"That's because I can't stand Santa Teresa's bossy attending physician! What's her name again, Dr. Hastings? If she could just keep those thick, wet lips away from me, I might be able to hear what she's saying! Oh? Psychological trauma, based on a few crayon drawings? Maybe you shouldn't be angry with me. What's that saying again—'If he offends you seven times a day and comes back seven times saying he regrets it, you should forgive him'—I'm ready to offend you properly, Damon."

“Dr. Hastings cares about you, and so do I.” Damon took a deep breath, putting down the fork he was fiddling with. “Listen, Anna, I’m not here to argue with you. I don’t mean to upset you, really. Forgive me, these past few days… something happened at Santa Teresa’s, Mother… or rather, that devil. It injected something into the brains of several caregivers, and a guard died. I’m sorry, Anna, I really…”

Anna shrugged, looking helpless. "I know you didn't mean it. You even ordered a cookie sandwich. That's something I used to like when I was little. My tastes have changed now, but... thank you for coming to see me, brother." The tense atmosphere between the siblings vanished instantly, and Damon seemed much more relaxed.

"I'll reply to your message next time." Anna looked at the cars passing by in the night outside the shop window. "You can send text messages on holidays, but not on weekdays. I'm very busy with work."

"Mother's condition is terrible; that demon has taken control of her." After a pause, Damon looked up into his sister's eyes. The warm yellow light melted into her slender eyes, revealing a sense of longing. He caught a whiff of the past again—the warmth and comfort of family life before everything happened, though rare, it was enough for him to cherish.

"But we expected this, didn't we?" he asked in a low voice, his tone much gentler than before. "Do you know something? To be honest, something strange has happened in my life too. I had a vague feeling that someone was watching me. That devil left a symbol on the wall, and just a few days after that, I..."

"No, nothing happened to me." Anna frowned. She remembered how Salomon had addressed her—a name that wasn't hers—Satana. Even now, Anna still harbored some suspicions about Salomon, because the magician seemed to know some very secret and important things, which Anna suspected were related to her mother.

“I came to you because I ran into someone,” she said. “Maybe he has the ability to deal with that thing… Good heavens, Damon, look at the look on your face. Do you think we’re the only ones with this talent? Aliens are in New York, billionaires and Asgardian gods are flying around, and the 70-year-old American Idol who slept in ice has come back to life. What’s impossible? It’s not surprising that a wizard would suddenly appear, is it?”

Damon raised an eyebrow and nodded. He said, "I'm more inclined to think it's a superpower. Okay, okay, I'm asking you, do you trust that person?"

"There was some trust between us; I've had contact with him. He's very powerful; he could take me from the United States to Italy in an instant."

"I noticed him."

"It's not as complicated as you think, Damon." Anna couldn't help but laugh. "He's still a minor. Although he's cute pretending to be an adult, I don't like boys younger than me. The reason he came to me is because he has a conflict with that thing, and one of them has to die."

"Then let's give it a try," Damon said. "But you have to promise me you'll come with me the whole time."

Anna agreed, believing Salomon wouldn't refuse the offer.

"My God, I can't even imagine how awful this place is," Salomon said, standing beside Anna and trying to keep his voice down. Before them stood a gray, pointed building that looked like a Quaker church, its oppressive atmosphere palpable even from afar.

"Why do you say that?" Anna scrutinized Salomon's attire. The deep red shroud had been drawing Anna's gaze; she couldn't look away. She felt there was some kind of magic surrounding the garment. "Don't you have any other clothes?" she asked. "You wore this when you first met me."

"This is my robe, not some shirt," the sorcerer scoffed. "Speaking of which, this place is called Saint Teresa? Named after a nun who could achieve orgasm through faith, it's not hard to imagine how foolish the people here are. Did I say foolish? Sorry, I should say piety; I often confuse the two, since they're essentially the same. In fact, Saint Teresa might have been a born witch who went mad because her talents weren't properly guided."

In the past, girls like her could be educated in temples and become priestesses of the gods. Note that I'm referring to the past, before the first century AD. Later, such girls either wandered aimlessly through the villages, spouting prophecies no one could understand, or were taken into barns by a few farmers and gave birth to babies whose fathers were unknown.

Of course, a more likely explanation is that Saint Teresa simply ate dark bread made from wheat infested with ergot. We all know how common ergot was in the Middle Ages; perhaps Saint Teresa was a long-term LSD user—a scenario as foolish as the apparition of Our Lady of Fatima.

"But Bernini's sculptures are excellent." Anna rolled her eyes; this was the first time she'd experienced a sorcerer's sharp tongue on religious matters. "And shouldn't you compare this to the Salem witch trials?"

"Indeed, Giovanni was a master, the foremost of Baroque art, but his later portraits lacked innovation. He went further and further into religious themes, and the signs of stylization were quite obvious. Perhaps it was because he became more and more devout in his later years." The sorcerer raised an eyebrow at Anna, tapping his toes as he tried to shake off the mud from his boots.

"Besides, what happened in Salem is real; I experienced it myself."

“I don’t think we’re here to discuss Renaissance art and Puritans.” A bearded man emerged from the doorway, giving the sorcerer a suspicious look. “I am Damon Helstrom.” He extended his hand. “Welcome, Salomon Damonette. Anna told me about you. I’m starting to believe you; otherwise, no one would wear so many rings. Oh, Anna…” He turned to his sister, “Dr. Hastings would like to see you.”

"Hopefully she won't make me draw crayon pictures this time."

“Black rappers have a lot of rings too, but that doesn’t mean anything.” Salomon shook Damon’s hand. “You can watch my workflow. Don’t worry, I’m not like those priests who make 4% of the Catholic Church’s revenue from exorcisms.”

"My abilities are ineffective against that thing." Damon looked Salomon into his eyes. "I hope you can help her get rid of it."

"I hope so, because it's class time now. Even though I asked for leave, if we're quick, I can still make it to the next class."

Isn't that a bit too harsh? I feel like I'm going to offend some people again.

(End of this chapter)