Father Benton Black had stayed only a very brief time at the Avalon, as it appeared a meeting of Kindred there was breaking up, at least one leaving without even acknowledging him. He was strong in his faith that he had something to offer this domain, and that in fact the guiding hand of the Lancea et Sanctum was needed here, but so far he'd failed to find a path into the local Kindred community.
Suddenly he became aware that he was so distracted by his thoughts that he'd been driving without any real awareness of where he had been going. He found himself in a run-down neighborhood, much different from the opulence he'd seen in the area around the Avalon. From all the signs written in Spanish in shop windows, it appeared to be an immigrant neighborhood. He saw a church of the Catholic faith, and noted it was in some degree of disrepair. He also noted the active presence of sin on these streets... people making exchanges throguh car windows, women in revealing dress offering themselves to passersby, men at corners selling jewelry and cartons of cigarettes and electronic devices stil in the boxes, no doubt obtained by illegitimate means.
Black parked up outside the old church. Clearly it and the entire neighborhood had seen better days. Well haven't we all, now? It was a jarring contrast from the decadence of the Avalon, but familiar to him; he had spent many years of his life in places like this, the scenery may have been different but the desperation and decay were all too familiar.
Benton decided to head into the church to pray and clear his head. Perhaps then he could find the guidance he sought.
The sign just to the right of the entry doors reads ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI CATHOLIC CHURCH. Underneath is a small, lit sign announcing days and times for masses; a couple of the exchangeable letters have fallen off, and some others are crooked. Black is pleased to find that unlike some churches, this one continues the tradition of keeping its doors open through the night.
Inside, he finds the place more neatly kept than the outside would suggest. The stained wood, though worn, is carefully polished, the carpets worn but impeccably clean. The small lobby contains a coat room, an offering box, a bulletin board and a table holding racks of pamphlets and information, in both English and Spanish. To each side of the entry into the nave is a statue of the Virgin Mary. The one on the left is of a classic European design, while the one on the right is Mexican, including some more Indian stylings and depicting the Virgin of Guadalupe.
Inside, the dark-stained wooden pews are, like the woodwork in the lobby, well-worn but in good repair. Black sees a few people - homeless, to judge by their clothing and general appearance - sleeping on the back pews. One snoring wretch clasps an empty wine bottle.
As he walks down the aisle toward the pulpit, he notes that the left wing of the transept is used as an alcove holding votive candles, a few lit,while the right holds the confessional, both doors open. There is a woman, head bowed in prayer and covered by a veil, sitting alone at a pew just past the transept. As he approaches, he can hear her sobbing.
It is fortunate for Black that the idea a vampire cannot stand the sight of the Cross is merely a myth, else he'd no doubt be destroyed in his tracks by the huge crucifix hanging from the ceiling at the far end of the church. He notes that the depiction of Christ's suffering is unusually vivid, the Lord's expression one of sheer agony. Black also notes the stained glass windows, those on the left depicting the church's namesake, St. Francis, engaging in many of the deeds he was famous for: giving away all his belongings as a young man, ministering to the poor, using a nativity scene to instruct youth in the meaning of Christ's birth, talking with birds in a peaceful glade, a fawn asleep at his feet. Those on the right depict various of the martyred Saints; in some cases, the martyrdom is depicted, the detail unusually graphic.
Near the font, Black notes a lone nun in traditional habit, scrubbing at a spot on the carpet with a brush and rag.
Benton genuflects as he enters the church sits down at the pew near the sobbing woman.
"He's a good listener." he says, attempting to break the ice. "God I mean. Patient, he doesn't judge, always there ready to hear what you have to say day or night." He gives her a comforting grin and says, "Doesn't give a lot back to the conversation, but still a good listener. Now I like to think I'm pretty good in a conversation. I'm Father Benton, want to talk?"
Still bent over, the woman turns and looks at Black. At first she seems to have difficulty believing him to be a priest, but then she looks at the collar he wears.
From the color of the skin on her hands and what he can see of her features through the veil, Black can tell the woman is a middle-aged Latina.
She grasps Black's hand. "Pray for me, Father, for I have lost one son, and tonight I fear I may lose another! Please ask Jesus to save my older boy. He's a good boy, he's just angry and hurting."
Black smiles sadly to the veiled woman, "I know the type. Anger and pain and wrath can blind one everything. But the Lord offers salvation to all his lost children, no matter how far they stray. All he has to do is accept it in time. Tell me about your son's troubles, maybe I can help."
"I know you can help, Father, by praying to Jesus and the Virgin to keep my boy safe." Even through the veil, Black can see the plea in her gaze.
"My younger son, Ramon, he got in a fight at a party, over some girl, an' three boys in a gang beat him up real bad, bad enough he never woke up. The police, they talk to the kids at the party, but nobody sees nothing. My older son, Miguel, some of the people from the party talk to him, though, so he knows who did it, an' he took off from his job early an' hasn't been home. I know what he's going to do, an' I'm so afraid for him."
She starts sobbing again, but in between sobs once again pleads "Pray with me, Father, and pray for my son to come home safe and not kill anyone!"
Father Black places a reassuring hand on her shoulder even as it shakes with renewed sobbing. He had indeed felt the same anger as her child when he was young and foolish. He had thought his anger would be like a shield and sword, that it would make him invincible but he had learned more than once that it just wasn't like that.
"Trust me, you and your family will be in my prayers, but I know how Miguel must feel. I'm afraid he won't see the light until it blinds him. I think I can help the young man if I can just talk to him. And if not, you have my word I'll drag him home to you kicking and screaming if I have to. Tell me, where can I find him?"
She stares into Black's eyes and squeezes his hand. "The gangsters, the ones that killed Ramon, they hang at a club about four blocks west. A place full of whores, strippers... El Tarantula, is called. I went by, looked around, I didn't see him, but I know he's going to show up there, looking for those gangsters."
She shakes her head. "I hope you can find him and talk sense to him. Maybe he'll listen to a man of God, even if he disobeys his mother. Thank you, Father."
"I'll do my best, I swear it. Do you have a picture of Miguel or something so I can know him when I see him?"
Benton begins mentally preparing himself. Remembering how stubborn and angry he could be as a young man, he knew that talking this Miguel out of whatever crazy thing he had planned wouldn't be easy. But the Lord gave him many gifts.
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