I come in front of Lex's home and knock three times. With a rush and forcefulness, he swings the door open. The moment he sees me, he gasps and his eyes well up.

  “Jason!” he cries. “Where have you been? You’ve been missing since yesterday!”

  He doesn’t even wait for me to respond. The words spill out of him like machine-gun fire.

  “The people from the church told me there was some kind of accident in the warehouse and that everything was cancelled. They just left—faces like they were going to exorcise the devil or something. They said things would return to normal next week, but gave me no real explanation!”

  He’s pacing now, frantic.

  “I checked again today. Everything was empty. No one’s there. It’s a ghost building!”

  Before he can go on, I interrupt him gently.

  “Lex… let’s go inside. We need to talk. And we need to be discreet.”

  I glance around, just in case—nothing. Quiet. Still.

  We enter his home, and I sit him down.

  Then, I begin to explain the truth.

  +++

  I sit down, he brews some tea and he asks, “How are you holding up, my friend?”

  I answer in a depressed tone, “In all honesty, not doing so well. I almost died.”

  The teacup rattles with a strong clink in his hand. He’s sporting a frown, just like the one in the picture.

  He asks, “Did you get attacked?”

  I answer in a tired voice, “Yes, by the same assailant from last time—the faceless monster in the warehouse.”

  He leans in. “What happened?”

  It feels like an interrogation now. This isn’t the Lex I remember. Still, I’m compelled to answer—just like before.

  “I was investigating. Found an entrance that looked like it might have dirt on the church. There was old blood and a sulfuric smell. I couldn’t go further. The assailant trapped me in the warehouse.”

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  He asks, “How did you leave?”

  “I managed to injure him and escaped through a mirror. I was hurt and lost consciousness.”

  “How do you look so well?”

  “A doctor took care of me. I have good insurance.”

  This is all so unnatural. I don’t know what’s happening anymore.

  “After that,” I add, “I looked for a way to defeat the assailant.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who gave you the information?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is it reliable?”

  “I bet my life on it.”

  “Then what did you do after that?”

  “I came to find my best friend.”

  After I say that, he smiles—a pitiful, remorseful expression. He hands me the tea and says, “Now drink and take a nap. You must be tired.”

  I sip. The warmth spreads… but there’s an aftertaste. More acidic than I expected. It doesn’t match the smell, or the softness of Lex’s voice.

  Still, I’m too worn to care. I drink it.

  And sleep, not remembering what just happened.

  +++

  I wake up with the sun at my face again. I feel relaxed and strangely happy, like a weight is off my shoulders. All I remember is entering Lex's home and losing consciousness—must have been too tired to explain. Then I see Lex, smiling, making breakfast with an apron.

  “Rise and shine, Jason! You promised me you would tell me what we should do to defeat your mysterious assailant,” he says, revealing a continental breakfast spread. I haven’t seen that much food in such a long time. I’m almost crying. “Thank you,” I whisper, and he smiles brilliantly. I almost smile just like him.

  We have our fill, and I explain, “We must take buckets of water to the parish. If someone asks, we’re on janitor duty and came to clean the place.” I pause. “My assailant has a trauma of pooled water.”

  Lex jests, “Then how does he bathe?”

  “Dunno, probably showers with a bag on his face,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

  “We must go to the parish and investigate. It’s empty, and this is our only chance.”

  Lex looks surprised. “That’s right, they vacated because something happened in the warehouse. Good thing you managed to escape unharmed.”

  Not wanting to worry him, I affirm. “That’s right. I managed to find the smell of sulfur and what looked like old bloodstains before leaving the premises.”

  He replies, “That’s so slick of you.”

  With pride, I say, “You can leave it to a professional!”

  He starts clapping at my boisterous pose.

  “Either way, as long as I can punch him at the right spot, he’ll be defeated—but I need a way to close the distance safely.”

  Lex answers, “The buckets of water?”

  “Exactly. I hope to test this information.”

  Then Lex, nonchalantly, takes out a revolver and puts it on the table.

  “I’ll be taking this just in case.”

  Bewildered, I ask, “Lex... since when did you have a revolver?”

  With a smile, he says, “Since the start.”

  Almost annoyed, I ask, “Why didn’t you inform me about this?”

  He answers, confused like a puppy, “You didn’t ask!” He practically exclaims it like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

  I grasp my head. “Good, good. We can work with this, Jason...” I take a deep breath and say, “Excellently done, Lex. Let’s use this when it’s needed.”

  I stay silent and continue eating. Lex finishes his portion, and we quietly take out our casual attire and start collecting water for the parish with the mop buckets in his closet.

  I just hope it actually works.