"Father Howard." The Reverend Mother stepped aside for Timothy to enter her office. "It's been a long journey for you."

"Mother." He dropped his duffle beside a wingback to shamelessly embrace the nun. "It feels as though I'm home."

A deep chuckle. "My son." She pushed his face back to regard him. Concern knitted her thin brows. "You look tired. Daunted."

"I'm fine." He assured, voice raspy. "It was a turbulent flight. Sleep was elusive."

"I've sent for tea. Sit." She rubbed his back before sliding behind her desk. "Mary Eunice tells me sleep has eluded you for some time."

He looked away. "Perhaps...I'm growing tired."

"This role is demanding, Timothy. And for years now, you've pushed yourself beyond realistic boundaries."

He cradled his head, elbows on knees. "I'm doing good."

"You're seeking redemption in the wrong places."

"I was meant to save souls, Reverend Mother. In my previous life, I did not. In this life, I must."

"This task may be more than you can handle right now."

"Is that why you've assigned me an assistant?"

The Reverend Mother hissed. "I would avoid the word 'assistant' at all costs, Father. She is a Dominion nun."

"Forgive me." He smiled. "Partner?"

"That's...better." A knock. "Come!" A young priest entered, carrying a tea tray. "Brother Michael. Thank you." The acolyte bowed to his superior, resting the tray on a table between the two wingbacks. "This is Father Timothy Howard." Sister Joan gestured. "A Devotee."

The hero worship in the young man's eyes was immediate. Timothy smiled kindly while they shook hands. "Father Howard. An honor. I've never met a Devotee."

"Are you in training here, Brother?" Timothy asked.

"Yes."

"Michael is our only chosen acolyte this season." The Reverend Mother said proudly. "He's recently begun the Arcanum Dictatum." A deep red flush crept up Michael's pale skin. Joan smiled at it. "You may return to your studies, Michael."

"Thank you, Reverend Mother. Father Howard. An honor." Michael back, bowing, through the door.

"Young and eager." Timothy remarked.

"That's...what I've been told." She accepted the tea Timothy offered. "You look different."

"Oh?" The tea was hot. Fantastic. He relaxed into the chair.

"You need a haircut."

He ran fingers through the now shoulder length mess of dark waves. "I suppose I've lost track."

"Personal care is important, Timothy. Although, I will confess the shadow gives you a rakish look."

"Is that - is that good?" He asked, laughing.

Another knock. "Come in."

Timothy turned in his chair, laugh becoming smile. "Mary Eunice." He rose to embrace the angel, too, wincing a bit at the green day glo jumper. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Eunice is here to...help facilitate your work. With Sister Judith."

"Sister...Judith." The priest repeated slowly. "My partner, I assume."

"She's on her way," Eunice whispered to Joan.

"Oh!" The Reverend Mother looked just slightly panicked. "The time slipped away from me. Timothy. I hoped to prepare you more."

"For..." He looked between the nun and the 80s angel.

"You'll be familiar with your partner." Joan stood. "But I want to assure you she was selected by His Holiness himself. And her work is impeccable." Eunice cleared her throat, gesturing for the nun to speed this process. "We anticipate that there may some...friction between -"

"Friction." Timothy looked more and more concerned. He looked to Eunice, who patted his arm. "I assure you I'm not familiar with a Sister Judith. If she knows me, I hope -"

The door flew open and slammed dramatically closed. All bodies present tensed. "Judith!" Joan made to scramble from behind her desk. "Wait!"

Timothy turned. The shock - the recognition - the gape on his face barely had time to form. The blood red nun was too quick. Too quick for anyone to have intercepted, though Eunice tried. But Jude swept her aside like a neon horsefly. The slap resounded through the room, nearly as loud as the slamming door. Timothy steadied himself against his chair, hand to burning cheek.

"That's far leaving me in that Hell hole ta rot, you son of a bitch!" Jude shouted. When he righted, halting and stunned, she slapped the other cheek. "And that's for making me Betty Drake!" She fisted his cassock, turning him back to face her. "All the lies, Timothy? The empty promises! The false hope! This is far those!" Her fist was drawn.

"Jude, no!" Eunice grabbed the cocked arm. Jude struggled. Joan pulled a staggering priest to the opposite chair, wincing at the trickle of blood at his lip. "Please! Please." Eunice whispered now, caressing Jude's face, tears in her eyes.

But Jude wore tears, too. "I warned you, Eunice."

"You said you'd be nice!"

"I am being nice!" Jude spat. "Argh!" She pulled her arm from Eunice's grip and spun away, braids swinging.

"Judith!" The Reverend Mother stepped to intercept the angry sister, but Timothy stopped her with a gentle tug.

"Leave her," he gasped, holding his lip. "This is actually going better than I would have expected." He straightened, ready to face the woman Eunice had contained for the moment.

"Jude..." He wasn't exactly certain what to say, though.

"You will address me as Sister Judith," she corrected him over Eunice's shoulder. "You killed Jude a long time ago. Or did you farget?"

"Trust me. I've never forgotten."

"Not when it wasn't convenient, huh?" She goaded him. "When I didn't know too much and ya didn't have to covah me up like a dirty secret. But I wasn't the dirty secret, was I, Monsignor?"

"Jude." Eunice stroked her older sister's cheeks, thumbed the angry tears away. "Please. Please save this. You can kick his ass to hell and back later but we have such important work right now and the two of you are all we have to rely on. Please."

Jude calmed under Eunice's tone. "Yar right." She took a deep breath. Rubbed Eunice's shoulders. "I'm sorry. Fargive me, Reverend Mothah."

Sister Joan looked awakened. She watched Jude sit as calmly as possible in the chair beside Timothy. Her hand brushed Jude's covered head when she passed. "It's all right, Jude." When she sat behind her desk, her eyes flitted to Timothy. "I wasn't aware of the...complexities...in the past you share with Judith. I knew that there was some animosity, but..."

"There are most certainly reasons I live this second life that I live, Reverend Mother." Timothy wiped his lip with a handkerchief from his pocket. "Many of those reasons involve...Sister Judith. And all of them deserve her fury."

"I see." Joan sighed. "It isn't conducive to this cause. I wonder if his Holiness was aware." She pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated. "You are the best the Church has to offer in exorcism. And you are most definitely needed in this case - both of you. Judith."

"Yes?"

"Forgiveness is freeing. I remind you of that." Jude snorted. "Timothy." She pointed at the priest. "Don't piss her off. Eunice?"

"Hm?"

"Looks as though you'll have your work cut out for you."

"Yes, Reverend Mother."

"Wait." Jude sat forward. "What does that mean? What exactly does Eunice have to do with all of this?"

"Eunice is going to be your consort, Judith. This is a high profile case with possible serious repercussions. We need the two of you monitored for your own health and sanity. Eunice will be checking in frequently and reporting to me. And...perhaps she can offer our Timothy some consolation as you seem determined to torment him more than any demon ever could."

Jude rolled her eyes painfully. Timothy bowed his head, resigned to this fate. Eunice watched the pair sadly. "I think there's only one person who can ever offer Timothy true consolation," she murmured.

"One two three not it!" Jude interjected.

"Judith!" The Reverend Mother snapped.

"What?" Jude snapped back. "Is someone going to debrief us on exactly what we're getting ourselves into here? Because 'high profile' and 'serious repercussions' aren't phrases I like to hear in association with an exorcism."

"Agreed." Timothy leaned forward. "What makes this case so special?"

Sister Joan went full business mode, extracting thick leather bound dossiers from her desk and handing them to the exorcists. "I've outlined things very briefly for Jude earlier. Maria Monticello was a Dominion nun. For 13 years." Timothy's brows raised. He opened up the file and began scanning. "She disappeared after a month in Palermo. A lengthy, difficult job. The details are in the file. She kept extraordinarily detailed notes. But when she returned here after the demon was vanquished, she was wrong. Aggressive. Angry. She lashed out at her Sisters. Even at me. She exhibited...supernatural abilities and behaviors."

"Supernatural?" Jude asked. She was staring at a photo of the nun in question, trying to connect the lovely face with supernatural abilities. It seemed a far stretch.

Joan rubbed her arms, remembering. "One night, after midnight mass, I walked to the dormitories with the acolytes. We were all chatting quietly when we heard something strange. I looked up and..."

"And?" Timothy prodded.

"Sister Maria was crawling across the stone ceiling under the arches." She shook her head at the image. "Her fingers were like...claws. When she looked down at us, her head turned...like an owl's might. I was frozen in fear. But before I found voice to shout for help, she...scurried into the shadows. Up the side of the dormitory. Disappeared into the night."

An eerie silence filled the room. Jude cleared her throat. "Was that the last time she was seen?"

"Yes." Joan sat again. "We found her nightgown the next morning. Ripped. As if it had been torn from her body. And there was blood."

"She was injured." Timothy wondered.

"It - it wasn't her blood."

"Oh?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Jude. It was just so much information. I hoped to explain it all like this. Now. With both of you."

"Whose blood was it, Mothah?" Jude asked softly.

"Sister Theodora de Ricci's."

"Was the sister -"

"Dead." Joan folded her hands. The silence fell again. "She was found in her chambers. Partially... eaten."

"God, protect us." Timothy bowed his head, whispering prayer.

Jude closed the dossier briskly. "Well. Sister Maria sounds delightful. I look forward to her having us far dinner."

Timothy was still reading. "She is in a convent now. In Fargo. They contacted the Diocese when another nun was murdered."

"We think she may be responsible for two other nuns' deaths in two seperate convents. And...one priest. She always disappeared before any investigations could be made. But they all report the same things: She was odd. Sometimes frightening. Spoke in tongues. Glowing eyes. More. All the signs of possession."

"She's in custody at this convent?" Jude sat forward, galvanized. "I assume they're keeping her isolated and secure?"

"She's locked in a tower room. Straight jacketed most of the day. Apparently, she's gone quite mad. The possession is no longer secreted in any way."

"I'm not certain keeping it a secret any longer is possible," Timothy muttered. Jude was already on her way out the door.

"Your flight leaves in three hours. Pan Am direct into Boston. I know it isn't much time to prepare, but you can read the dossiers once you're airborne. Jude." The Reverend Mother halted her protege at the door. "I'll pray for you both. For your protection and strength."

"Pray far him." Jude pointed at Timothy. "That he's protected from my strength. Eunice. Come get me when we're headed to the airport."

They watched the nun leave. Heaved a collective sigh. The Reverend Mother laid a heavy gaze on the priest. "Timothy. I would ask what you did to her, but I fear it might make me think poorly of you."

"Of my past?" Timothy stood, gathering his duffle. "Yes. But I suddenly feel as if there is a future to look forward to. Mother?" He bowed. "Eunice. I'll wait in the courtyard."

Alone, Eunice looked at the Mother Superior. "My money's on they fuck the first night they're in Boston."

"Mary Eunice!" Joan reprimanded hotly, a hand to her chest. "Double or nothing it's the first night in Fargo."

"You're on."