Light, Dark, and All the Rainbows Between

[Zoken]

I do not own Clan of the Cats or any related characters, story devices, or settings. I am writing this little diddy for my own enjoyment and am receiving no payment for it other than the feed back of the nice people on this board. Deacon Wyatt Combs is mine.
~*~

He walked down the street. He'd heard she was here. He needed her help. He... wasn't that one of the people from Mass this morning? The young man was pulled out of his thoughts when he recognized a young woman with olive skin and a large amount of curly hair. She was walking with another woman who happened to have a gossamer streak in her raven hair. It was her. He could feel the poweful aura pulse around her.

"Excuse me!" he called. "Pardon!" he jogged to catch up to the women.

The one from mass turned around first. "Deacon Combs?" she asked curiously.

"You know him?" asked the thinner woman.

"He left quiet an impression this morning," the woman he now recalled was named Raven chuckled. "I don't think anyone's ever given the readings so much passion and dramatics."

"Thank you," Wyatt smiled. He turned to the other. "My name is Wyatt Combs... I need to speak with you on a rather urgent matter."

"Me?" Chelsea asked curiously. "Um... I'm Chelsea Chattan and rather happily a witch."

Wyatt paused, at first confused at her response. "Oh, no I'm not trying to convert you... um... when you say witch..."

"I practice the craft," Chelsea clarified cryptically.

"I'm looking for the cursed pureblood Chattan witch-Morph," Wyatt said, finally having caught his breath.

Raven and Chelsea looked at him in shock.

"I know you're powerful," he said, pointing to Chelsea. "But are you her?"

"Y-yeah," she replied.

"I need your help," he explained. "I'm on a sacred mission. If I fail, it means the end of morphs, vampires, weres, and witches... and likely all humanity."

~thirty minutes later~

"Would you mind clarifying," Chelsea asked with all the diplomacy of a broadsword. "What you were implying when you threatened the magickal world?"

"I wasn't threatening," Wyatt said frustratedly. "I'm charged with saving it and I'm having the damnedest time. I was told that you were a powerful witch. I can only use so many spells, for obvious reasons."

"You use spells?" asked Jacob interestedly. They were gathered at Chelsea's Grandmother's house. Also present were Jubal, Paul, Cynthia, Sebastian, and Chelsea's grandmother.

"wait, I thought you were a priest?" Paul asked in confusion.

"Deacon, actually. Step down, I can still marry," he explained. "My brother's the priest."

"But you are a christian?" Paul tried to clarify.

"Catholic," Wyatt elaborated. "And yes, I use spells."

"Um..." for once Jacob and Paul were stymied on the very same issue.

"Look," Wyatt explained. "A spell is simply a prayer. The only difference is who you are praying to. I say my 'spells' as an invocation of God's power, might, and love."

"And you know about wizards, morphs, and vampires?" Paul asked, sitting down rather wearily.

"Yup," Wyatt assured him. "I have since my parents were killed by a wereduck... rather grisley incident." He shook bodily, as if trying to cast off the memories.

"And just what does that Vatican want with Madame Chelsea?" asked Sebastian. "You have a surplus of stakes and getting ready for a fire sale?"

Wyatt looked at the cat for a long moment. "Would you like me to explain the expression, 'More than one way to skin a cat'?"

Sebo glared right back, and Wyatt broke the stare first. "To be honest, I'm here to ask help in correcting one of the Church's darkest mistakes."

silence met him.

"Five hundred years ago, a weapon was comissioned by the church. they used every wizard loyal to them to create it, none of them truely understanding what they were making. It was forged with Hellfire, and blessed by an angel to insure that only humans could ever use it. It was a weapon designed to obliterate and destroy... magick. it was used to great effectiveness for a century. It's infamy inspired bigotted humans to write a book and name their book after it.

"after the last supernatural war ended, circa 1597, the weapon was returned to the Vatican and kept in storage should it ever be needed again. In 1847, Pope Pious IV began to gut the Catholic church of it's secret socities as a show of good faith since he was denouncing them around the world. That was when he found the weapon. He called the weapon an abomination, and rightfully so. He ordered that the weapon be given to a sufficiently neutral party and hidden away, from men, from morphs, from vampires, and especially from Hell. So much, he felt, the weapon shamed the church that he ordered all record of it's existance be eradicated. The only thing that wasn't destroyed was the book named after the weapon.

"And so the weapon was lost to the ages. Now, however, the Church has recieved intel from Hell that a vampire has located the weapon's hiding place and intends to retrieve it. We weren't really worried at first, vampires are sustained by magic that they steal from the living. with flowing so readily in their veins merely touching the weapon would leave them writing in pain... then we found out the Gauntlets of Icarus and Deadalus were missing." Wyatt sighed, rubbing his face, obviously very tired. "The gauntlets would allow them to not only touch the weapon, but would render them invulnerable to anything. A Tepes vampire wearing one of the two pairs of gauntlets could gargle with garlic and silver laced holy water and come away with nothing but halitosis."

"This weapon," the Grandmother spoke slowly. "You haven't given us it's name."

He looked slowly at the assembled group. "This weapon, which was used to destroy anyone with hightened amounts of magic, which inspired a book that instructed thousands to mercilessly salughter innocent women..."

"No," Sebastian gasped.

"The Malleaus Malificarum."

[Jamie]

Wow. Very good. I've posted a link to this fic on the main page in lieu of comics.

Thanks,

Jamie

[Zoken]

Jacob, Sebastian, and Ruth were looking angrily at Deacon Combs. Chealsea had retired to another room to attempt to scry for the Mallaeus. "You can scowl at me all you like," Combs finally responded. "But I didn't create the thing, and I'm trying to save the collective ass of the world."

"Excuse me," Paul interrupted. "But you mentioned the Gauntlets of Icaraus and Daedalus. What are they?"

"There is a myth about Icarus and Daedalus," Ruth told him. "Son and father respectively. To escape from an island they formed wings from beeswax and shed feathers. They used them to fly from the island, but Icarus, in his joy at the freedom of flight, flew too high, too close to the sun. The heat melted his wings, and he fell to his death."

"What actually happened," Combs took over. "Was that two angels were flying over Earth, there to spread God's news, and were attacked and killed by demons. Their bodies fell to the earth.. They inspired the myth. their feathers were sold and burned, and have since been destroyed. The skin from their now featherless wings was turned into two pairs of leather gauntlets."

"How did they get enough leather from just two skinny wings?" asked Cynthia curiously.

"Real angels have four sets of wings each," Wyatt informed them. "Because they were made from the skin of angels, they are immune to any and all affects governed by magic. Wearing them... you are even immune from death. They were supposed to be in the Council's vault, but someone stole them."

"You mean THE Council?" asked Jacob. "As in our Council?"

"Yes," Wyatt smiled, he felt rather good surprising them like that. "Believe it or not, we're not hate mongers or fear-peddlers. We leave that to Al Gore."

"Badump-bump!" Jubal added, causing everyone to look in his direction.

"Thanks," Wyatt said, laughing at himself.

"Does... does your church accept the idea of ghosts?" asked Paul tentatively.

"Sure," the deacon replied. "Spirits that have anchored themselves so strongly to this plane that they cannot pass on either way, they weight themselves down with hate or anger or sometimes love."

"We had one in our house," Cynthia added.

"Wow, my brother could have helped," Wyatt said. "He is a priest. And he's got the right Charism for it."

"Charism?" asked Ruth.

"The Catholic church," Sebastian explained. "Recognizes certain super-natural abilities and talents calling them 'Charisms'."

Wyatt looked at the cat in surprise. "I've been around for a while, I learned things," smirked Sebastian.

"Sylvesters' right, in any case," Wyatt said, looking back to the group. "My lineage, through my mother, has a long history of charisms. She had Tongues, My brother has Exorcism, and I've got Discernment."

"Discernment?" asked Cynthia.

"Discernment of spirits," Raven answered this time. Her voice was awed.

"I didn't realize what it was until I was 17, and my brother started pressuring me to the clergy. He wanted me to be a priest like him, but I couldn't do it. Plus... well, a guy who did a year in Juvie for busting another kid's jaw isn't exactly 'Shepard' material." He shrugged modestly.

"But you're a deacon?" Paul asked in surprise.

"My brother's persuasive," He offered as an explanaition.

[Silver Adept]

Chelsea's grandmother (that we've met) is named Ruth.

[Zoken]

Thank you, for the life of me I could not remember he name. It shall be applied.

[Jamie]

Thanks, Z! When COTC returns Monday I'll fix up a more prominent link. This is cool! Thanks again.

Jamie

[Zoken]

Chelsea fought the urge to throw her ball across the room in frustration. She'd been trying four two hours now to scry the location of the Malleaus Malificarum to no amount of success whatsoever. She was considering asking her grandmother to help.

"Any luck?" Jubal asked quietly as he walked into their room.

"None," she sighed. "I just... It's like there's no such thing."

"You'll find it," he said, stroking her face lightl as he stood behind her.

She looked up from where she sat to his face. "Why is it you believe in me so much?" she asked playfully.

"What," he replied with a smirk. "You think I'd come back from the dead for just anyone?"

She smiled and turned her face to kiss the palm of his hand.

"Out of curiosity, have you tried looking for nothing?" Jubal asked conversationally.

"You mean just looking at everything?" she chuckled. "Jubal I don't think it's that big."

"No, no," he clarified. "I mean, majick is a part of nature right? Everywhere from deserts to forests to tundras, right?"

"Yeah," Chelsea nodded, not entirely following him.

"And the Mean-Mallet destroys magick, right?" he asked.

Chelsea's eyes began to widen in surprise as she realized Jubal what Jubal had been saying. "Then wherever the Malleaus Malificarum is hidden there will be an absence of magick!" She pulled his face down for a quick peck on the lips. "Jubal, you're a genius."

He stood back up with a happy grin. "That's what I tell everyone, but they don't listen."

~*~

"Can I ask you something?" Paul asked Deacon combs tentatively.

"Sure," Combs replied, sipping the soda Ruth had given him.

"How... how do you reconcile the magick world... and God?" Paul asked.

They were away from the rest of the group.

Wyatt looked down at his feet and then at Paul. "Let me guess, raised in the church all your life?"

"Yeah," Paul nodded. "A lot of recent events have made me question... a lot of things."

"To be honest, I had a lot of questions when I first found out about my charism. And then more when I found out about Magick," he shrugged. "The Church officials I worked with helped me a lot but eventually, it all came down to accepting that a God who can create humanity and science, could and did also create lycanthropy and magick."

"And what about... what about Chelsea and..." Paul pressed on.

"Worried about Hell, and their eternal souls?" Wyatt asked.

"Yeah," Paul nodded, leaning on the walls.

"What do you think will happen to them?" Wyatt asked.

"Well, the bible says..." Paul began, only to be cut off.

"That is a mistake," Wyatt lectured. "One a lot of Christians fall into."

"But the Bible is the word of God?" Paul tried to assert.

"Given to MEN with pens who wrote down what they understood of the word of God, which was then translated by more men with pens who translated their idea of the word of God, and their translations where re-translated, etc., etc., etc." Wyatt smiled. "The Bible is as reliable as priest, and I do mean to include current events the Catholic church into that statement. It is a man-made thing and thus as reliable as any man-made thing.

"Don't put your faith in the book, put your faith in God," Combs summed up. "Now, I'll ask again. Do you believe your sister-in-law is going to hell?"

"I-I-I don't know," Paul admitted in defeat.

"Perfect answer," Wyatt said with pride in Paul. When Paul looked at him like he was crazy, the Deacon smiled and said, "So high above our ways, are the ways of the Lord."

"God is smarter than me?" Paul attempted to summarize. "So I don't know who's going to Heaven or Hell..." Paul suddenly leaned back... and realized he'd believed that already... but hadn't realized he believed it.

"The Sin of Pride is most often committed by one of the supposed faithful who takes to telling people what they believe God will do. They take upon themselves the right to dictate people's lives, tell them what to do, and kill them if they don't obey. God gave human beings free will. We can attempt to educate, but to do much more than that is to attempt to take away what God gave us."

"Thanks," Paul said, shaking hands with the deacon. "You didn't really tell me anything I didn't know already... just stuff that I..."

"Never thought about?" finished Wyatt. "You should have seen my brother laying the epiphanies on me when he went through seminary."

~*~

Timon, Harry, and Lilith stood in the chamber of the Council of Three, awaiting the arrival three more.

"When I find out who...." Lilith smouldered.

"Hail of fire, death by locusts, anything else?" Timon asked passively. He'd known Lilith long enough to let her rage burn run it's course. Though she was easily annoyed, she was not easily enraged. She'd lived too long to be angered by petty things.

"And the Vatican is saying it was one of my brood!" she snapped angrily. "Do you know how embarassing it will be if it turns out THEY, the Damned Vatican, is correct?!"

"You called," Asked a werewolf as he stepped through the portal into the Council's chambers.

"Adragar?" asked Harry. "Of the Gray Wolf clans?"

"Aye, at your service." Adragar took a knee in front of Harry.

His appearance was quickly followed by two others, Melpomene and Jeremy.

"You finally made it," growled Lilith.

"I'm sorry," Mel replied. "I would have been here sooner, but Jeremy is not the best at portaling."

"Sorry," the were-boar shrugged.

"Very well," Timon said, waving his hand dissmissively. "Now that the three of you are here, you may learn your mission."

"Mission?" Asked Jeremy. "We will be doing work for the Council?" he had a look of awe in his eyes.

"Under me," Lilith added coldly.

Jeremy's awe turned to intimidation.

"There has been a robbery," Harry said, doing a decent job of being the "normal" member of the Council. "Two pairs of objects were stolen from the Council's vault. You are to retrieve the objects, and the theif. They will face Judgement by the Council."

"Which means they must be brought to us ALIVE," Timon specified, giving pointed looks at both Melpomene and Lilith. "We have chosen this team so that all peoples are represented. Morphs, witches, wolves, and vampires. This way, no matter who the theif is, they will not be able to appeal to any sort of 'loyalty'."

"If one of my brood did this I'll feed him his own organs one by one," Lilith growled.

"What did they steal?" asked Adragar, the armored werewolf.

"The Gauntlets of Daedalus and The Gauntlets of Icarus," Lilith told them. "You can imagine what sort of chaos they could do mucking about with such powerful objects."

[Fotoglyuck]

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