FIFTEEN
The reason for the near deserted streets soon became apparent after Ross negotiated a large group of teenagers who were having a very disorganised football/wrestling match while several on lookers hooted support whilst eating large portions of delicious looking barbeque and sipping on cola bottles. Ross’ stomach growled at the smell and he realised he hadn’t eaten since leaving the airport, hours ago now.
The area opened up into a surprisingly large village square which was filled with perhaps two hundred revellers. All the buildings surrounding the square were festooned with brightly coloured flags, lights and streamers. At the far end was a prefabricated stage some three feet off the ground where a six piece band were playing what sounded like a mash up of traditional mariachi music and some kind of heavy Mexican rock to Ross’ untrained ears.
Off to his right, Ross followed his nose to see three massive wood burning barbeques, going full blast, piled high with sumptuous looking meats of all kinds. Each manned my three cooks who cheerfully filled plate after plate which were then passed out into the nearby crowd.
Next to this was a large open fronted bar that had several tables out front all of which were packed with merry looking drinkers from late teens to late eighties by the look of things. Young and old alike lost in the festivities.
Ross couldn’t help but smile at the scene and definitely thought about taking his dog collar off for a while if it would snag him a cold beer or two and a plate of food before seeking out the elusive German. He put down his suitcase and laptop bag and unbuttoned his shirt to his chest and wafted the material to try and raise a breeze.
Ross was contemplating the bar when he caught sight of the group of children he had inadvertently scared earlier. They were gathered around two women, one was about fifty with a long floral skirt and simple white blouse with her black hair tied up in a bun, the other was a good twenty or so younger wearing jeans and a t-shirt with her dark hair loose around her shoulders.
They looked quite similar to the priest who instantly pegged them as perhaps mother and daughter. The children were chatting animatedly to the two women, each trying to get their attention whilst clearly talking over each other. The younger woman looked across the square to Ross while the other tried to calm the children who were now all pointing in his direction.
The two women exchanged words and then the younger prised herself away from the children and made her way through the thong of merrymakers and over to where Ross was standing.
He tensed, trying in vain to read the young woman’s demeanour. He tried a smile which he could only imagine how forced it looked but he almost sighed out loud in relief as the woman smiled warmly back.
“Hi,” Ross said lamely but she cocked an ear and pointed to the band clearly not hearing him.
“Por favour, perdona a los niños, ha sido algún momento, ya que han visto a un sacerdote.” She shouted over the music until she finally got to him.
Ross just looked blankly at her so she tried again, softer this time. “Es el collar de perro, los malos recuerdos.” She said with a smile, pointing to his collar.
“I’m really sorry,” Ross said awkwardly. “No Spanish I’m afraid?”
“Oh, you’re American?” She asked.
“No, English. I’ve come from England.”
“England?” She said with no little surprise. “You are a long way from home, Padre.” She continued in very good English.
“Tell me about it,” he replied. He looked across to the older woman and the children, who were still glaring at him.
“I think I scared the children earlier,” he said. “I’m sorry, not sure what happened.”
“It’s the collar,” she said pointing to his dog collar once more. “They have mad memories I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Ross said with growing unease, unsure exactly what that could mean. He held out a sweaty hand. “I’m Father Ross, Shane.”
The young woman seemed a little amused at his formality but took his hand nevertheless. “Very pleased to meet, Father. My name is Alicia.
“Please, call me Shane.”
The woman nodded with a smile, but a moment later her face grew serious. She gestured to the older woman and children. All of whom had now taken off their masks save one, a girl who now appeared to have forgotten her earlier fright and was seemingly lost in the music, judging by the way she was swaying in time with the beat. “My mother says you have been sent by the Vatican.”
Ross hadn’t expected that and had to think about this for a moment, yes he supposed he had. “I guess you could say that. I’m looking for...”
“Hauser,” she cut him off. “My mother was afraid someone might try again to take him from us.”
“No,” Ross insisted. “It’s nothing like that. I just, well I really need his help with something.
Alicia turned to her mother and nodded grimly. With this the older woman shooed the children away and they ran off across the square to a small stall selling ice-creams and treats.
“Please,” Alicia said to Ross and gestured for him to follow her. Ross picked up his suitcase and looped the laptop strap over his head and followed her across to her mother, who had now taken a seat at a picnic table which was cluttered with empty plates and spent beer bottles.
“Mama, this is Shane, he is from England.” This won a raise of the eyebrow from her mother and Ross got the feeling he was going to have to go through this woman if he were to have any chance of meeting the elusive German. “Please, take a seat,” Alicia said to Ross and moved off. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
“Thank you,” Ross called after her and took a seat on the bench across from ‘Mama’. Much to his surprise the woman’s face softened as she studied the flustered looking priest.
“Can I respectfully ask you to remove your collar, padre?” She said. Although like her daughter, her English was good, her accent was much stronger than Alicia’s so the priest had to concentrate on what she was saying, especially above the music blasting from across the square. “I mean no offence,” she continued. “It’s just some of the younger men who are, shall we say, a little worse for the drink, might cause you some trouble later.”
Again this mistrust of priests and in such a Catholic country. Ross nodded and removed the plastic strip from his collar and put it in his jacket pocket, this wasn’t the time and certainly not the place to argue the point.
“Thank you. By the way, my name is Rosa.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rosa.” Ross said with a nod. He got a flash of good old fashioned Catholic guilt at feeling much better having removed his collar which made him smile without realising it.
Rosa lifted an eye brow at this and smiled herself. “Some of us were a little concerned someone might come. Hauser received another letter from your Vatican some days ago.”
“I understand he doesn’t like my kind very much, Rosa,” Ross said. “But all I ask is just a little of his time.”
He was contemplating showing the woman the video when Alicia came back with two ice cold beers, she handed one to her mother and placed the other on the table in front of Ross.
“Oh, thank you.” Ross said gratefully and took a sip of beer. It was so cool and refreshing he gasped out loud much to the amusement of the two women. “Tut, sorry,” he said and felt his cheeks burning.
“I’ll see you later, Mama. Father.” Alicia said with a nod to him and set off towards the stage which the band were now vacating. The singer took his mic stand and placed it front and centre of the stage and lowered the stand so the mic was about at his waist.
“Thank you,” Ross called after her as she broke into a jog to join a large crowd which had gathered in front of the stage in anticipation of the next act.
“You must forgive us, we are very protective of our Hauser. We owe him so much.” Rosa said and Ross turned his attention back to her. “Do you know anything about what happened here, Father?” Rosa asked. “About why we hold senôr Hauser in such high regard?”
“To honest Rosa, no. Let’s just say I’m flying blind here. I’ve heard some things about him.” He faltered, things? That he was a demon catcher? Could he tell this woman that? Something he didn’t truly believe himself, despite demon time? “To be honest, I don’t even really know why I’m here.”
She smiled. “You are here because there are things in this world that cannot be easily explained. Things that our prayers, our faith even cannot always protect us from.”
There was such understanding and compassion in her eyes that Ross found himself lost for words. He had thought he would have to somehow justify why he was here, but she knew. Perhaps not about Michael Davis’ freak show back in Europe, but certainly that thing’s aren’t always what they seem in the waking world.
He was about to speak when something akin to a wicked grin crossed the woman’s face. “Speak of the Devil,” she said with no little glee.