THE BARLOW BAR:
THREE NIGHTS BEFORE THE BAPHOMET INCIDENT THAT TOOK PLACE IN ‘HELL AT THE WAY STATION’
Marc ordered two Heinekens, then turned to his friend. “Nice job last night. Not sure I could have gotten through that exorcism without you.”
Steven adjusted his barstool. “Thanks. It’s weird, though. I don’t have your abilities, but I could definitely feel something…”
“You can hurt them. It’s like they can’t touch you.”
The bartender placed their beers on the coasters before them, gave an obligatory smile, and discreetly stepped away.
“Hey, whatever works, right?” Steven shrugged.
“Whatever works,” Marc agreed, offering a silent cheer as he raised his beer. They clinked glasses, smiling wearily.
“Did you always have your powers, Marc?”
“Pretty much since the day I was born. But I also worked at it. Studied. Everything from theology classes to Harry friggin’ Potter. And Latin, of course. Lots of Latin. You?”
Steven shook his head. “No. Not at all. I mean, I had dreams and premonitions. I learned how to conduct exorcisms, even communicate with displaced spirits who weren’t hurting anyone. But my ‘powers,’ if you can call them that, only began to manifest after my first real encounter with the supernatural. That was a long time ago. I was very much a grown man by that time.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Negro!” Marc chuckled. “Lay it on me!”
Steven sighed. “Okay, just don’t judge me once I’m done.”
Marc smiled. “C’mon, man! You know me better than that.”
