The Strange Cases of Detective Warren Stevens
The Strange Cases of Detective Warren Stevens
At Last Good Night
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Arista has a duty to perform and returns to the Steps of Heaven to Great an Old Friend
Warren and Alex say goodbye as Warren goes home and Alex... to the trap of the false apostle
and not satisfied to sit things out, another Old Detective picks up the chase
If you like the podcast, I almost guarantee you will like the book. It's from the podcast. Although it's a unique story completely separate from what I've written here and what I've voiced here. So I truly believe you like the one. You will like the other. And there are crossover characters. So criss dressing characters. Although that would have been interesting. Luciano and a dress. I don't think you would have gone for that, do you? Anyway, uh, please check out my book Acolyte on Amazon. And thank you for listening. Arista returns to the garden to perform a duty. As Alex and Warren have a final chat. It's never easy to say goodbye, and sometimes it's harder to say hello as we turn the page. But before we do, let me remind you that this podcast may contain images of graphic violence, adult situations, child endangerment, and naughty, salty language. Now, now one story ends, in the midst of the story itself, as we bid farewell with chapter 13 at last. Good night. Arista became well aware of Warren's presence as he ascended the stairs to the steps of heaven, and she rerouted her direction. It saddened her to fulfill this part of her duty, but she also knew that this day was near when he asked her for a lock of her hair. It was about a little over a year ago as Warren returned to Bishop Brock's office. Secretary Fritz was on his heels as the detective marched his way down the great hall to his office. Detective Stevens! What a surprise! What is it the Bishop and I can do for you? Warren gives Fritz a look as he slams a dark wood box into his chest. I am returning your lost items, Secretary. The Secretary stumbles back a bit. You found it? Yes, and where I found it was not amusing, and that's why I'm here. I'm not sure the bishop is free. It's okay, Fritz. The bishop waves as he opens up the office door. Bring those with you, Fritz. Warren gives his secretary a growl. You sound quite aggravated, Detective, the bishop says as he points to a leather chair in front of his desk. Aggravated would be a polite term, bishop. Fritz places the ornate box on the bishop's desk and immediately exits. He knows the bishop will want to offer his guests some hospitality, so he proceeds to put together some coffee and biscotti. Meanwhile, the bishop leans forward and opens up the case. Two cylindrical silver-colored balls about the size of a baseball sit in front of him. Oh, you managed to retrieve the false one as well. The bishop sounds pleased by Warren's accomplishment. Yes, and fortunately for you and the young girl named Alice, I did. Warren pauses. He's seething. Why didn't you tell me of its existence? Warren says through his teeth. I'm sorry. We probably should have. The bishop replies in an almost uncharacteristic, nonchalant manner. You think? That thing. The bishop cuts him off. Nearly cost Alice her life. I know. And I know more than you think. We have eyes everywhere. Well, almost everywhere. We never intended that you would need to ascend into the waste. But I suspect that's not the reason you're here, is it? The bishop leans back, folds his hand, and waits for the detective's answer. Correct, Bishop, Warren replies. As a detective, I don't miss much. And what I found out is going to shake the sacred dawn to its core. Fritz re-enters the room, carrying the standard silver caraffe, coffee, and chocolate almond biscotti on an ornate silver tray and places it before Warren. Go on, Bishop Rock says. He tells him that Cassandra is alive, that she is on the hunt for a burgeoning demon eater, and may be on the verge of opening the lost gate. Bishop, I can't wield Sam anymore. And Alex, while well trained, needs something to help protect her. I see. You're worried that Alex, without a weapon, may get overwhelmed. And you, Arista, and I know that Silas, Cassandra, have plans for her as well. She needs a weapon. The curtains at the back of the office parked as the French doors seemingly open on her own. So what do you plan to do? Arista asks as she strolls. She seems different to Warren somehow. Perhaps it's just her friendship with Luciana, but she seems more human. Warren looks directly at her and without hesitation asks, Now I have a lock of your hair on. Arista's eyes light up and Bishop Rock sits straight up in his seat, Biscotti half in his mouth. I see, she replies, and then takes a short knife off her waist and cuts a section of her hair off and hands it to him. It's about time you asked, Detective. I didn't want to be disrespectful, but to put a stop to this, I'm going to need Gorson's abilities and something holy to finish this. Now, as he ascended, still holding the sword, the spirituous day, he was a little more surprised when Grandpa Jack permitted him to take it. In some ways he suspected Jack might try to bind him to the blade or perhaps use a gate one last time to hand it to Alex. But no, he was ascending on the steps of heaven, still holding the blade meant for Alex. He had been here before, the steps of heaven, when he had returned from the dimension where Alex had been found. He had thought he had died then, but Arista gave him a new mission and Gorshin as a partner. He acted in between realities until finally he returned home. Now he had returned again, tall grass blowing gently under a breeze, the sound of a river flowing as it cuts through a distant forest, mountains that rise to an impossible height, and streaks of light running up towards another light. Not the sun, just a light that was impossibly warm, loving and waiting. As he walked, he spied the garden, flowers, bushes, and birds of every type. At its center, a tall cherry blossom tree in full bloom, and a swing hanging down and waiting on the swing. Arista, her silver hair and blazing blue eyes gleaming. Hello, Detective. Arista, he replies cordially, but succinctly. It seems you're heading home, she asks, already knowing the answer. So it seems, Warren replies. He's hoping for one more reprieve, but before you go, we do have a few things to conclude, Arista says, and Warren's heart leaps. Maybe? A heavy wind blows and he needs to put his hand to his hat. Arista seemingly vanishes, and then he hears someone approaching behind him. He turns to see Alex Christmas Stevens, his adopted daughter, looking lost and amazed as she wanders through the grass towards him. She's taking everything in, the way he had taught her to do, when finding herself in an impossible situation, and then she turns around and finally sees him. Take it. Dad? Yeah. How about that? What are you doing here? What am I doing here? Alex asks, confused. What am I doing here? He remembers he's holding the spiritual stain and holds it out to her. I'm giving you your birthday present. My birthday present? What? I don't understand. You don't need to. But unlike me, Alex, you don't belong here. I suspect you were permitted this moment before so I could give you this and Alex doesn't remember taking the blade, but suddenly she's holding it in her right hand. She notices three figures stepping out of the rear of the garden at first of pure light, and then they take shape. A boy about ten. A woman with curly hair and glasses holding a cat. And then another woman. She's medium height, deep brown eyes and hair. A wedding ring gleaming on her hand. They've come to take me home, Alex. He pauses. Even now the emotion of it all, a little overwhelming. Alex. Remember, you're my daughter now. Everything I have is yours. You will never need anything. I still need you. She objects. She had lost so many friends, family, and now Alex. Warren pauses. I know. But it's time for me to sleep before the reality hits her. And suddenly, unknowingly, she's good with it. She knows this is right and she knows she will be okay. I know, she replies. Don't worry, Alex. That blade, he points to the spirituous day. It will protect you. But wait until you know it's time to reveal you habit. Arista will help. And when all looks lost, don't doubt the father. He and the steps around him begin to fade. She can feel herself falling back. Do I have to go? She asks, reaching out to him, to his family. He looks so warm, so happy she's about to start crying when one more figure rushes forth. Josephine Kuchma grabs her daughter's hand. Mom? She only smiles and nods, and Warren steps forward and takes Alex's hand, making Josephine step back. Yes, Alex, you have to go. You have a job to do. As the new face and leader of the Sacred Dawn, he pulls her in for a hug. Then, in a blink of an eye, Warren fades and the steps seem to vanish, and Alex wakes up inside a very dark sphere. She recognizes the twisting shadow, the tormenting voices and shapes. They've enclosed her inside the false apostle. Outside of it, she can hear Silas and Cassandra making their final preparations to deliver Zack into the hands of Ekmala. She takes a deep breath, cries a little, and then looking at the blade manifesting itself in her hand, she smiles. It's beautiful and warms her heart the way that Warren's coat had kept her grounded on the other side of the gate. She pulls it against herself the way she had done with the coat and whispers, Good night, Detective. I love you. Miles away, Chief Donaldson taps on the edge of a glass. It's been days since he's heard from Alex. He then starts playing with his closed flip phone on the bar like a fidget spinner. Not one to be left out, he finally flips open the old-fashioned cell and thinks, dumb phones. They don't do much, but just enough. He dialed, he looked over at a younger crowd, all chatting while playing on their smartphones. Smartphones for dumb people, he scoffs. A modern marvel for sure, and the very connection to the demonics that wanted to possess them, to own them. He almost wondered somehow if the smartphones could be portals, a way of bringing the waste to us. It wasn't a pleasant idea. Another drink hit the bar top and slid towards him as the call connects. Hello? The young man answers. Marco, it's Donaldson. Chief, Donaldson, what can I do for you at this late hour? Late, the chief thinks. He looks at his watch, 10.45 p.m. I guess that could be considered late by some people. I think it's time for you and I to have a little talk. Chief? I want to know what Alex and Warren are up to, where they went and why. I can't. Marco, have you ever gotten a ticket even for breathing? Where do you want to meet? Rich Donaldson smiles. It was something Warren would have done. Warren. He had promised to meet with him when he got back. I wonder what type of trouble the old man has gotten himself into. The bell on the wall of remembrance rings, and Rich feels a cold chill run through him. Damn it, he says. It's been almost an hour since he got off the phone with Marco. Where is he? Marco was the temporary driver, liaison, messenger, whatever you wanted to call him from the Sacred Dawn. He, until this case, had been basically at Alex's side since Josephine died. Twenty-four, broad shoulders, brown hair, and fierce green eyes, Terence had picked him out like so many before him. While not as well trained as Alex, Marco was exceptional at three things: information, defense, and unless it was for Alex, being late. The door chimed and Donson looked over to see Marco entering, taking off his dark blue, wool driving cap and hanging it up with his navy overcoat just inside the entrance. Buttoned up as always, white shirt, black tie. He was the epitome of professionalism. A glass hits the bar and slides towards him. Ice water with a twist of lemon. I see they even get your drink straight, Donaldson says, as Marco grabs the tall glass with a smile. Well, I've been here often enough, always watching over Miss Kuchma, Marco replies. I'm sure she wouldn't mind you calling her Alex Marco. She's not one for formality. Donaldson answers. He knows Alex actually likes Marco. But being stubborn, she'll never tell him. And Marco, being a professional. True, sir, but I keep things professional. Miss Kutchma is under my care, and I need to make sure that I act appropriately. Donaldson sighs anyway. Oh. Yes, apparently my old partner adopted her. But that isn't why I asked you here. Marco drops a file on the table. It's labeled Operation Paladin. That's quite a folder. Yes, sir. Can you summarize it for me? I can only tell you what I know. Your old partner believes that a demonic going by the name of Cassandra is trying to capture and use a boy named Zack Taylor. He believes the boy may have similar abilities to Master Jonah. A demon eater? Marco nods. Damn! I knew that old man. Sir? Nothing, Marco. What town did they go to? I'm not supposed to. Rich gives him a look and he remembers the chief's threat about tickets for breathing. West Hollow. Rich grabs the file and turns to Marco. It's gonna take me a few hours to familiarize myself with this. Why don't you join me at my office? Sir? Marco, I don't like being kept on the sidelines. And like it or not, I am deeply familiar with a lot of what hides in the shadows. I understand, sir, but no offense. What can you do? A fly in the ointment, Donaldson says with glee. Sir, don't worry about it, Marco. Let's go. Marco finishes his water and looks at the half-dozen glasses near the chief. Maybe I should drive. Richard Donaldson! Or should I say, Chief Donaldson? Are we feeling left out? Are you sure it's wise to enter the fray? You and I both know that things that lurk just beyond our sight are not child's play, are they? Oh well, do what you must, but remember I warned you as we turn the page to chapter fourteen and ceremony.