Your Zenith

by Krakintakin

Summary:

“Now and for always, a perpetual rise
A fall of illusion, your zenith fades into eternity.”

Despite her death, Copia and Perpetua find out that Sister Imperator still has one last curveball for them: Primo, Secondo, and Terzo’s souls in the bodies of Perpetua’s new ghouls.

In order to work together to figure out how and why Sister would do such an awful thing, they must conquer their respective pasts to make sense of the present. And to set their brothers’ souls free, they must dig into the long-buried mysteries of the Ministry, and uncover secrets of the woman who spent her entire life serving it.

Notes:

This started out as a sentence on a Google doc that said "remember when Tobias said in an interview that the Papas sometimes came back as the ghouls or whatever? yeah what if Sister gave Perpetua the three Papas as ghouls for shits and giggles"

Six pages of notes, six chapters in and almost 20,000 words later here we are with no end in sight. I'll be posting a chapter every day or two until I'm caught up.

Tags will be added as the story continues but I put things like mentions of grooming and talk of suicide as those two things (and heavier topics maybe) will come up later on in the story just so that anyone who wants to not get involved in a story that has those topics don't get surprised when they come up. I'll make sure to include it in the notes of the chapter when those topics will be brought up.

I hope you enjoy!

EDIT: Some headcanons in the end notes for some backstory!

EDIT 2: changed the summary cuz I didn’t like it :p

Chapter 1: Time will soon be gone, right will turn to wrong

Had that door knocker always been there?

Copia stared at the large brass Baphomet knocker on Papa III’s door. Its ruby eyes stared back at Copia, glittering in the dimly lit hallway. He felt as though it was peering inside his soul, then felt silly for having such thoughts. Grumbling to himself about how he needed to talk to Papa about it in case it needed to be logged into inventory, he grabbed the knocker and swung it against the door.

“It’s open.” Came Papa’s muffled voice. Even through the door, Copia couldn’t miss how heavy his voice sounded from lack of sleep. He smoothed a hand over his cassock and opened the door.

It was a mess.

Papers were thrown all over the office, many with crossed-out scribbles or had circles around random phrases. There were at least five paper cups of dried-up coffee and tea on Papa’s desk that surrounded him, the room warm from Papa having been cooped up in it all night.

He was wearing a purple robe that was tied loosely around his waist revealing a slim torso with dark hair on his chest. Copia looked at his boss with concern, at the sight of Papa’s messy hair and dark circles under his eyes, his face lacking paint. He was rapidly writing something on a piece of paper, his pen barely touching the paper with how quickly his hand was moving. In the year that he’s been Papa’s Cardinal he had never seen him so… disheveled.

He cleared his throat to announce himself but the other man gave no acknowledgement that he had heard him. “Papa? Are you well?” He asked him.

Papa finally glanced up at him, his hand pausing. “What?” He asked, then blinked. Copia watched as though a fog left his gaze as he stared at Copia. “What- Cardinal? What are you doing in here?”

Copia stepped forward until he was in front of Papa’s desk. “It’s well into the afternoon, Papa. I was sent here to check on you when you missed both meals and Mass. Are you…” He looked over the office. “Sick?”

Papa followed Copia’s look around the room with his own. He looked surprised as though he hadn’t noticed the state of his office. “I…” He slowly set the pen down and rubbed his hand. He seemed to have to coax it out of its curled-up state, wincing as he squeezed it in a fist. “I had a strange dream last night. About a song, I think. And I just… well, I had to write it down,” he said with an empty laugh.

“A song? But you just finished recording Meliora.”

“Yes, yes,” he agreed. He picked up a paper cup and sighed when he saw it only had a wet tea bag in it. “But it was… important. It will be important.”

Will be…? Copia felt a small shiver run down his back. There were strange things that happened in the Church, yes, but those words sounded particularly ominous.

“I think we should get you some food and a shower, Papa,” Copia said, walking around the side of the desk and awkwardly placing a hand on Papa’s shoulder. “You’re lucky Sister Imperator is on a business trip or it would’ve been her that would be in here right now.”

At the reminder of Sister Imperator, Papa nodded and stood. Copia was relieved to see that he was at least wearing underwear, albeit it was a pair of women’s underwear. He shook his head; it wasn’t the worst thing he’d seen Papa in.

“You’re right, Cardinal,” Papa said, tying his robe closed as he stepped away from the desk. Copia saw him hesitate as he looked down at the piece of paper he was writing on and couldn’t help but take a peek at it. He only caught a couple of phrases that were underlined before Papa grabbed it and shoved it into a drawer. Copia jumped at the sudden action, his face burning as though he was a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“Sorry, Papa-”

“It’s alright,” Papa said. He was already halfway to the door, his feet dragging as exhaustion hit him step by step. “Just send a ghoul in here to clean up, if you will.”

Copia watched as he left, listening to Papa hum an unknowable tune under his breath. He looked down at the drawer and felt his hand twitch with the sudden need to open it and to read the rest of the song, to know what Papa had written. Instead, he followed Papa out and shut the door behind him, the words he had read clear in his mind’s eye.

“Now and for always, a perpetual rise,

A fall of illusion, your zenith fades into eternity.”

—

Copia jolted awake, the sound of a door closing echoing in his ears from his dream. His eyes automatically went to the alarm clock next to his bed, and he groaned softly when he saw it was barely six in the morning. He rubbed at his eyes and tried to remember his dream, but it was slowly slipping away with every second he was awake. Something about… Terzo? And a song? He knew it was a memory from his days as a Cardinal, but it was already fading away with every second he was awake. He shook his head and rolled out of bed, and began getting ready for the day.

Once he had showered and changed into his regular outfit, he carefully applied his paint around his eyes. As he finished, he stared into his white eye. He barely remembered what it was like to have two green eyes, when his life felt like his own. As much pride he took in seeing his left eye in the mirror, he also felt the weight it bore, the meaning it held.

The other men who shared it.

He was out of his bedroom without another glance back at the mirror.

—

Hours later, he fell back onto the couch with a sigh. He felt as though he had done enough work for a week, and at the same time, nothing at all. Yes, he had gone over paperwork, yes, he had signed along the dotted line more times than he could count, yes, he had called in Siblings and ghouls to make sure things were going smoothly. But it was boring work. Without the power trip that seemed to plague so many on top, being the boss of an empire was boring. There were so many things that came to mind that were better than what he was doing, so many things worthwhile.

A mic in his hand, a stage under his feet, screams for an encore in his ears-

“Sir?”

He startled. Judith stood in the doorway, looking a little frazzled.

“Ah, Judith!” He hopped to his feet and tried not to let it show how much his back ached. “What’s- eh- is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, sir,” she huffed, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Copia realized she was breathing hard as though she had run down here. “Papa won’t practice with his ghouls.”

Copia frowned. “Why not?”

“He… he said that there’s something wrong with them.”

Something wrong with them? “They were summoned a few days ago; there shouldn’t be any issues with them.”

Judith looked a little lost, an expression she had whenever someone mentioned anything with the ghouls around her. Even though she’s been here for about a month, she still struggled with understanding how the ghouls functioned. “I can ask Mrs. Psaltarian?”

“No,” Copia quickly said. He could handle this. He’s dealt with numerous ghouls before, he’ll figure out what’s wrong. “They should be in the chapel right now, yes? Let’s head there together.”

Judith sighed with relief. “Thank you, Frater.”

He nodded as she turned and led the way to the chapel. He had to hurry to keep up as she walked at a faster pace than he expected. Was the situation that bad?

After a few minutes they were at the door of the chapel. Copia could hear instruments being tuned and raised an eyebrow at Judith who shrugged helplessly. He opened the door and stepped through, his gaze first falling on Perpetua.

He was wearing that stupid mask, but only had face paint under it, the rest of his face bare. His fluffy sideburns were a lot more prominent without the paint, a sight that always annoyed the hell out of Copia. Of course his sideburns would grow out thicker than his. Perpetua was also wearing a thick turtle neck but had rolled up the sleeves and kept his gloves on, which he was fiddling with as he watched Copia and Judith walk in.

There were only three ghouls in the room which was abnormal; normally there would be at least five or six. Two wore a top hat and the third wore a hat that reminded Copia of what nuns wore. All of them had on sparkly skeleton jumpsuits and boots. If Copia was being honest he thought they looked ridiculous but didn’t say a word about it in case it would rile up Perpetua, something he would jump on if Judith wasn’t beside him.

“V,” Copia said. He waved at the ghouls who were each plucking or tuning an instrument. “Judith said that something was wrong with them?”

Perpetua glanced at Judith and nodded. “They sound… strange.”

Copia raised a brow and tamped down the ever-present annoyance that began whenever he saw Perpetua. “Like they’re out of tune? Can’t hold a note?”

“No,” Perpetua responded with a shake of his head. He looked at Judith and, with an apologetic quirk of his lips, asked, “I’m sorry, Judith, but could you leave Copia and me alone for a moment? This is something I only trust him with.”

Surprised, Copia didn’t stop Judith when she nodded and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. The second she left, the patient look on Perpetua’s face was gone, replaced with anticipation and nervousness.

“Alright,” Copia said slowly and gestured at the ghouls again. Now that it was just the two of them, he wanted this done; it was always terribly awkward whenever it was just the two of them alone. “Show me.”

Perpetua sucked in a breath and nodded. “You,” he said sharply to a top hat ghoul. The ghoul looked up at him, quiet and obedient. It was quietly looking over a bass. “Sing the first verse and chorus of ‘Ritual.’ Now.”

Copia glanced at Perpetua, the harshness in his voice surprising him. “V, you shouldn’t-“

The other man raised a hand. Copia frowned at it. “Just listen, Frater. Please.”

Copia glared at him and crossed his arms, but stayed quiet as the ghoul stepped up to the mic and began to sing.

The ghoul’s elegant, operatic voice brought up a crystal clear image of the first Papa, Primo, into his mind. The deep timbre that was coming from the ghoul surprised him. The ghoul even lifted its hand in the air as though welcoming a crowd that wasn’t there. Before the ghoul could move into another verse, Perpetua waved his hand to silence it and pointed at the other top hat ghoul that was quietly watching.

“You,” he barked at it. “Come here.”

The ghoul nodded and stepped up to Perpetua. Once in front of him, it didn’t move, almost as though it had turned into a statue. Copia didn’t miss the way Perpetua wrinkled his nose at the sight. He couldn’t exactly blame him; it was a little unnerving.

“Sing the chorus of ‘Year Zero.’”

Copia watched the ghoul wrap a hand around the mic and lean into it as it sang. The commanding tone reminded him of Secondo’s domineering presence on stage, too resonant for a ghoul to possess. Actually, both of these ghouls possessed voices too strong and prominent to be backing vocals. A thought wiggled into Copia’s mind, something too horrific, too impossible to acknowledge.

He stayed silent but watched with sudden anxiety as Perpetua pointed at the third ghoul, this one seated on a stool among a variety of instruments. Copia felt his stomach turn at the sight of the tambourine in its hand.

“Sing the beginning of ‘He Is,’ the first few lines,” Perpetua demanded. Copia noticed how the ghoul stood fluidly from its seat, the tambourine clinking in its hand as it set it down. It stood at the mic and framed it between two hands but didn’t touch it as it sang, the behavior incredibly strange for a ghoul, and yet all too familiar.

“V-“ he started, but his voice died at the song that filled the room. Its voice was charming and melodic, enticing and dangerous. It was too stylistic, too unique to just be for harmonies. Sweat broke along Copia’s forehead and down his back, his hands too warm in his gloves. Copia met Perpetua’s eyes, the horror of the implications of what they were hearing mirrored in each other’s gazes. Without thinking, he turned and unplugged the mic from the wall. The ghoul stopped and looked at him in confusion, its tilted head and dark eyes making the hair on the back of his neck stand. Copia grabbed Perpetua and tugged them out of the chapel and into the closest bathroom.

When the door shut, he leaned against it and rubbed at his face. A memory surfaced, a moment with Nihil that he had long forgotten suddenly reawakened.

“What possesses the ghouls that makes them have a natural talent with singing and instruments?” He questioned Nihil as the two watched the ghouls prep the instruments before a rehearsal.

“Past musicians,” came Nihil’s short, clipped answer. Always saying the bare minimum to Copia.

“Like who?” Copia asked. “Famous ones like Bowie and Cash?”

“No,” Nihil said. Copia glanced at him and jolted at the sight of Nihil’s broad, crusted smile. Those glassy white eyes that he had always viewed as annoying at best were suddenly eerie and made Copia want to hide under a blanket. “Something better. Something… familiar.”

Memories of the Papas whirled in Copia’s head. Watching the Papas lead the church and become rock stars, his admiration and jealousy hand in hand. The way that the three of them had shouted at each other over some disagreement as Copia watched from the sidelines, and later when the three laughed about it over dinner. Serving Terzo as his Cardinal, becoming a close friend to him, an apprentice in a way. Neither of them had known at the time that Terzo was inadvertently training his successor.

And the memory of that awful, horrific, heavy feeling that had been Terzo’s head in his hands made his knees go weak, and he slid to the ground. Oh, Lucifer, the morning he had woken up to the news that the previous Papas were dead at the orders of Nihil and Sister Imperator. He remembered the feeling of numbness that had crept over his body throughout the day, the empty smiles and laughs he had shared with Sister and Nihil. The shakiness in his hands that he quelled with tight fists until his knuckles ached. It had all accumulated when he saw the three glass coffins rolled into a truck, Sister smacking it with satisfaction before it drove off. He had shut himself in his room for the rest of the day, huddled in his bed, wanting to scream with the warring feelings of guilt, shame, and that gut-wrenching anger beneath it all.

The legacies of three men cut short. All while he sat back and watched, while he let it happen, so that he could take their spot, so that he could have the legacy he always admired, and he knew, deep in his soul, that he would let it happen again just for one more chance-

“Frater.”

Copia flinched and looked up. Perpetua stood above him with a frown and raised a hand to his face. Copia did the same and felt streaks of tears on his cheek. He hurriedly stood and turned away from Perpetua as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his face. Embarrassment warmed his cheeks at the sight of the black paint he saw on it.

Without looking at him, he asked Perpetua in a shaky voice, “What was the process for the ghoul summoning?”

When silence met him, he turned to face his brother. Perpetua looked confused. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

“You weren’t- what do you mean? The next Papa is always present for the next summoning!”

“Well, obviously nobody told me the details!” Perpetua snapped back. “A Sibling just showed up with them at my office a few days ago and told me they were my ghouls and that I could expect them in the chapel whenever I needed to rehearse. That’s it.”

“So there was no ritual? Nothing?”

“Like I said, they just showed up at my office. I didn’t even know they were… not human… until today,” Perpetua finished lamely.

Copia shook his head. “That’s not right. The ritual of summoning a ghoul is a complicated process; you can’t not be there.” A tension headache was beginning to brew at the base of his neck; he lifted a hand and began to rub it. “Shit, maybe we do need Aunt Marika…”

However, the thought of going to his aunt, of saying something too awful to think about, let alone admitting out loud, made his head throb and his stomach clench. He found himself shaking his head and muttering, “Forget it,” as he turned to the door.

Perpetua grabbed his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

Copia batted his hand away. “None of your business. These are your ghouls; figure out what you want to do with them.”

Perpetua stared at him in shock. “I… seriously? I thought…”

“Thought what?” Copia snapped then winced at the sharp pain that shot through up his neck and stabbed into his brain.

Anger slowly melted the shock off of Perpetua’s face. His shoulders climbed slowly towards his ears, his fists clenching so hard Copia could hear the leather creaking. “I thought,” he said through gritted teeth. “That you’d help me, Frater. Since your job is, last I checked, to help me out since I’m Papa.”

Indignance made Copia ignore his rapidly growing headache as he stepped toward Perpetua. In a tight, quiet voice, he whispered to his brother, “I don’t have to do a damn thing for you, V. You want a lesson from a former Papa, hm? Here it is: grow a pair. You want shit done? Do it yourself.”

Perpetua reared back like he had been slapped, his eyes bright with emotion. “You know what? Fuck you.” He stomped toward the door and ripped it open. “Either you get me new ghouls or I won’t practice. That’s my decision.” And he slammed the door in Copia’s face, leaving him feeling appalled.

Lucifer, his head hurt.

Notes:

While I do believe that Perpetua is more creature than human, in this story he's just a regular man with trauma and is incredibly lonely. He grew up at a Catholic orphanage and spent his entire life in the Church, never truly believing in God but he definitely had some of that Catholic guilt bc of his sexuality and wanting to be a man instead of a woman. As he grew older, he went through some awful stuff at the hands of Father DeFroque and left the Church for a time for college. He transitioned during that time and joined a new church outside of his hometown to start over and worked as a choir teacher until he became Papa. While he was able to work through his guilt and eventually let go of his internal shame, its still something that he has to heal over. It was a boring, lonely life, and it left him severely depressed and suicidal. Because of this, he wants to have a good relationship with Copia and wants to learn more about their family, but is shut out of Copia's life. He tries not to let this affect him too much but it hurts and offends him more than he'd care to admit.

Copia, of course, lived at the Ministry his entire life. He had friends and acquaintances, but never anything deep until he became Terzo's Cardinal. He was close to Marika as a child but she eventually distanced herself from him when he became a teenager. He was a well-known member of the Clergy bc of his hard work, and then he started training to become a Cardinal in his early 30s. Once complete, he worked with Terzo during his Meliora tour, and then when Nihil reinstated himself as Papa for a time Sister made Copia agree to become Papa. He's a very driven man but feels a lot of guilt and shame over how he became Papa and how it left the three Emertituses dead. His relationship with Sister is complicated, as he never got to fully appreciate her as a mother, but also can't let go his anger and confusion over why she made the decisions she did and never told him she was his mother until he was Papa.

Chapter 2: Can't you see that you're lost?

Notes:

Wasn't planning on posting the next chapter yet but I got excited lol

I hope my characterizations of the characters aren't too OOC so far, I forgot that Copia has an Italian accent but I'm already too deep to go back to give him an accent whoops 3 also I fixed some of the tags!!

EDIT: I just realized as I was writing chapter 9 that I accidentally had Marika refer to Sister as her sister in this chapter.... I swear I'm not a fake fan the lore is just so confusing ;-; anyways I'm keeping it in and just saying that Sister and Marika referred to each other as sisters even tho they're not related, they were just extremely close!!

It took a few days for that flame of anger in Perpetua to sputter and die. And when it did it left the ashy, powdery feeling of grief in its wake.

When he had first arrived at the Ministry and learned about his twin brother’s existence, he had felt a surge of hope. Finally, someone who he could talk to that would understand him, that would respect him as a friend, as a brother. But when he had walked into that room and met Copia’s cold, distant gaze, he felt that hope get swept away so quickly it left him breathless. It reminded him of his childhood at the orphanage, where other children would tease him into conversations and goad him into thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’d have a friend. But then, right when he would open up and smile, or be a little too nice, they would look at him with disgust and berate him for believing their false kindness.

Perpetua thought he had known better, but it turns out it was much easier to give yourself a false hope than it was to accept it from others.

On the high ceiling of the small, empty private chapel above him came the soft pattering of rain. This was the chapel where he went through the ceremony to get his white eye. He was seated on a window seat, the cold from the glass soothing like balm on a burn.

He listened to the rain as he wrote into his notebook, lyrics for the album he was supposed to start producing any day now. Or he would, if he had new ghouls to work with, something that Copia hadn’t budged on assisting with. His face still went hot with his wounded pride at the last thing Copia had said to him, the words stuck in his heart like a thorn he couldn’t get out.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about the ghouls; he hadn’t stepped a foot closer than needed to that chapel where they were. Whenever he remembered the familiarities in their voices, voices he had heard from watching recordings of the former Papas, it made his skin erupt into goosebumps and had him looking over his shoulder as though one of the ghouls were behind him.

As much as it pained him to admit, he had felt severely out of his depth the moment he walked into this place, this monastery, this castle of an unholy place. Learning about his heritage, the role he was going to play, it had all left him scrambling for anything he could grab to hold on in the tidal wave that was suddenly his life. And when he had reached a hand to Copia, his twin brother, he had watched him drift by without even an acknowledgment. Another family member he had lost before they had even met. At least the others had the excuse of being dead (for the most part). Copia simply didn’t seem to care about Perpetua’s existence, a sentiment Perpetua was long used to.

The sound of footsteps walking down the main aisle had him looking up. When he saw it was Mr. Psaltarian, he scrambled to his feet and hid the notebook behind him, then felt incredibly stupid for doing so. He wasn’t a child anymore.

“Papa,” the older man greeted him, his deep, gritty voice echoing in the room. “It’s been a while since we last talked.”

“Mr. Psaltarian,” Perpetua replied, gripping his notebook in his hands. He respected and appreciated Mr. Psaltarian as he had helped acclimate Perpetua as much as he could to the papacy in a few short weeks. Perpetua had begun to look up to him as a figure of respect and someone who could maybe be a mentor to Perpetua on how to conduct himself, but one day he had seen Copia and Mr. Psaltarian walking through the gardens, the two bickering like they had known each other their entire lives. Not quite like father and son, maybe more like an uncle and his nephew? Either way, Perpetua had walked away feeling as though another opportunity had been ripped away from him, something he hadn’t even known he was searching for. After that, he kept Mr. Psaltarian at arm's length, close enough to have an amicable relationship but far enough that he won’t do any damage. “I’ve… been busy, of course. Though I’ve run into an issue.”

Mr. Psaltarian nodded. “With the ghouls?”

Perpetua tried not to shrink at the mention of them. “Yes, sir.”

The man frowned slightly. “Like I’ve said before, Papa. No need for the formalities.”

Shit. “Of course- It won’t happen again.”

He stared at Perpetua with an indiscernible look, then shook his head. “Marika and I looked into it. The ghouls are doing fine and are as talented as ever, so you should be able to practice with them starting tonight. And we were able to get a fourth ghoul, but you’ll have to wait for more in a couple of months; it takes a while to restock the ingredients for summonings.”

“I…” He wasn’t expecting this. Practice with the ghouls? Tonight? “Why did you and Mrs. Psaltarian look into it? Not that I don’t appreciate it-” he backpedaled, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

Mr. Psaltarian raised a hand to quiet him. “Frater asked us to, said something about them sounding weird.”

“Oh,” Perpetua mumbled. “Did you two notice anything… strange… about the ghouls?”

“Nope,” Mr. Psaltarian said. “They all sounded the same as usual. Why?”

Perpetua shook his head. He didn’t know what to make of this situation he found himself in, but he didn’t want to bother the Psaltarians more than needed. “Nothing. Why did Frater ask for your help?”

“Figured it’s cuz it’s cuz he didn’t want to do it himself, as usual,” Mr. Psaltarian replied drily. He nodded at Perpetua’s notebook. “Got anything worthy of a Grammy in there?”

Perpetua felt a flush rise on the back of his neck. He never showed others his music, and the fact that he would soon have to make an album out of it was… daunting, to say the least. “Maybe? There’s one song - here, let me…”

He flipped open to the first song he had written when tasked with writing an album a month ago, and showed the older man.

Mr. Psaltarian took the book. “‘Lachryma,’” he read out loud. He skimmed the page as Perpetua explained.

“The lyrics are simple,” he conceded. “But it’s on purpose; I took a lot of inspiration from 80’s rock songs and have an idea on how to utilize the components from those songs, like synths, dive bombs, and riffs to make it a good single.”

When he had graduated from high school, he had switched over to a new church, and he was able to land a four-year ride to the local community college. He gained a bachelor's in music composition. Music had always been an outlet for him, and getting a degree in it was one of the few things he was proud of..

Mr. Psaltarian hummed and flipped to the next page. Perpetua felt a stab of panic as he watched the other man go through a few more pages. He closed the notebook and handed it back to Perpetua with a nod of approval. “Promising stuff in there; can’t wait to see what you and the ghouls come up with.”

Perpetua took it back with an odd mixture of pride at the compliment, annoyance at his privacy being invaded, and anxiety at the mention of the ghouls again. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

He watched as the man nodded again and left the room. As Mr. Psaltarian disappeared into a hallway, he realized it had stopped raining, sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows above him. All around him were beautiful shades of reds, blues, yellows, and oranges. In a rare moment of stillness since he became Papa, he tilted his head back and soaked in the colors, staring into the windows until his vision blurred, and when he finally closed his eyes, all he saw was a ball of color that pulsed in time with his heart.

—

After another lonely dinner in his office, he briefly debated going to Copia’s office to talk to him about the ghouls, then decided against it. The picture of black tears running down Copia’s face, the lost, hopeless look in his eyes that was immediately buried deep, was all too familiar to Perpetua, a mirror of something he had long ago mastered himself. If Copia really was anything like him, then Perpetua knew he would prefer to be left alone for a little while longer to lick his wounds and gather his dignity around himself. Still, he did feel a childish sense of satisfaction at having won their stalemate.

Once he reached the hallway that led to the chapel, he was surprised when he saw that the door was already open. He could hear the ghouls walking around, instruments being played mindlessly. As though he were approaching a caged bear, he slowly walked up to the open door and peeked in.

The three ghouls were almost in the same spots as a few days ago. This time, Perpetua noticed that the two with top hats were significantly taller than the one that was among the other instruments. One of the ghouls with top hats held a black and white bass while the other held a sleek black and green guitar. The ghoul with the black wimple was at a keyboard and fiddling with a guitar, the song it was playing slightly familiar. The fourth, newest ghoul was seated behind the drums, tightening cymbals and tapping against the snare.

They seemed normal, but what would they sound like the moment they began to sing? The thought of having to hear the voices of the dead again made him shudder and almost run down the hallway.

Grow a pair.

No, he could do this. If anything, to show Copia that he was capable of doing his job. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he stepped into the room.

All four ghouls stilled and turned to him. Perpetua froze as well, the black pits in their silver masks making him feel as though he had just been caught by a pack of lions.

He cleared his throat. “Um- hello? I… I’m sorry for my behavior a few days ago; I wasn’t expecting-” he stopped with a squeak when the ghoul with the black and white bass pointed at the microphone. “Alright, yes, we can start for the day, um-”

The ghoul (ghoulette? It had very ambiguous features, so it made it hard to discern a gender) held out a hand and gave a pointed look at the notebook in Perpetua’s hand. With trembling hands, Perpetua opened it to “Lachryma” and handed it over. The four ghouls crowded around it and… were they reading?

Perpetua laughed humorlessly at the sight of the ghouls sight reading. The human-like behavior made him both relax and also creeped the hell out of him. He reluctantly turned his back to them and messed with the microphone, adjusting it to his height. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the two ghouls step up to either side of him, instruments seemingly ready. Behind him, he could hear the ghoulette settle at the keyboard and the creak of the stool as the drummer ghoul sat down.

He glanced around and saw that the ghouls were staring at him, waiting for him to begin. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and imagined the song, the synth at the beginning, the riff, and then him starting the first verse. As he did so, he almost felt a pull at his brain, like something was trying to suck it out of his head. Suddenly, the synth began to play, the notes and timing perfect. He jumped when the guitar’s noisy riff began next to him, the drums crashing behind.

It sounded exactly how he had always imagined. Well, not exactly, as there were still many components that needed to be added, but the foundation was there, present in his mind and in the ghouls’ talent.

Excitement suddenly replaced his anxiety; his heart suddenly pounding in his ears to the beat of the drum, he began to sing.

—

Copia wandered down the hall, whistling as he strolled toward the chapel. He was just taking a break from his work and thought to walk by the chapel as it was a shortcut to the courtyard, no other reason. He wasn’t curious as to what type of music Perpetua was producing, not at all.

When he had gone to Aunt Marika yesterday to talk to her, he hadn’t meant to bring up the ghouls, but their voices were still present in the back of his mind, haunting and unnatural. He made an offhand comment to her that Perpetua’s ghouls were weird, and she had immediately grilled him about it.

“Strange in what way?” She inquired. “I made sure myself that they were presentable for Papa.”

“Did you summon them?” Copia asked, not wanting to answer her question. How stupid would he sound? Yeah, the ghouls sound exactly like the past three Papas, you know, my dead brothers? Who were murdered by our father and mother for my benefit? And now they’re almost back from the dead to perform with our other brother, whom we didn’t know existed until two months ago? Yeah, those guys. What the fuck, right?

“No,” Aunt Marika responded. She was slowly stirring a cup of tea as she regarded him. “Your mother left instructions for me on how to prepare them in an… unconventional way. And who am I to deny the last request of my sister?” She sipped her tea. “I’ll let Mr. Psalatarian know, and we’ll check on them later today.”

Copia simply nodded, too stunned by what Aunt Marika had said. Sister Imperator had made these ghouls for Perpetua? Why? Weren’t the usual ghouls sufficient? And why didn’t he get special ghouls? He immediately balked at the thought of having to perform with the disembodied voices of the three Papas. On second thought, he was glad Sister didn’t give him any special ghouls.

After thinking about it for some time, he reasoned that he shouldn’t be surprised that Sister had a few more tricks up her sleeve after her death. It seemed as though she had spent a long time planning out the succession of her two sons, to give the two of them the best that the Clergy had to offer. He supposed he should be thankful, but whenever he thought about it too hard, his chest would get tight with a complicated ball of emotions that he would shove aside. He’s gone this far without attempting to unravel it, he wasn’t starting now.

In the middle of the night, it feeds

In the middle of the night, it eats you

He stopped. What in Satan’s unholy name was that?

Everybody knows

Everywhere I go

I can never run, I can never hide

I’m done

Copia found himself almost running down the length of the hallway, grabbing onto the doorjamb and nearly swinging himself into the room.

Perpetua was singing, his leg bouncing to the beat, the ghouls all in their element as they sang and played their instruments. At the choked noise he made at the sight, the ghouls immediately stopped and fixed their eyes on him. Perpetua’s voice carried for a note longer before he also stopped, opening his eyes and blinking at the ghouls next to him before he saw Copia.

“Oh,” he murmured, then cleared his throat. “Is there something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Copia echoed. He gestured wildly at them. “Wrong? What the hell was that song? It’s- that’s not Ghost. That’s some ‘80s mashup!”

Perpetua’s face went blank. “That,” he said stiffly. “Was our next single, ‘Lachryma.’ A rough version of it, at least. Mr. Psaltarian said he’d get me more ghouls in a couple of months so that we can properly start the album then.”

It was then that Copia noticed the ghoul at the drums. He stared at the other three and felt himself pale a little when they stared back. Through his haste to get here and the unfamiliar music, he was still able to hear Terzo’s voice through it all, accompanying Perpetua’s voice in a way that made him want to squirm like he had a spider crawling on his back.

He walked over to Perpetua and put a hand over the mic. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

Perpetua looked at him with a scowl. “Yes, I am. It’s my duty as Papa.”

“But they’re-“ Copia’s voice caught. “The ghouls aren’t right, there’s something-“

“The ghouls,” Perpetua interrupted. “Are doing just fine. Once you get over the…” his bravado cracked slightly as he glanced at the ghouls.

“Over what?” Copia challenged. He held Perpetua’s gaze. “Those dead men performing with you, men I’ve worked with, men whom I admired and respected, who are our brothers.” A sick sense of satisfaction slipped into his voice when Perpetua flinched. “They shouldn’t be here, singing and playing a fucking guitar. They should be dead.”

“What do you want me to do?” Perpetua retorted. “I’ve only been Papa for two months. I can barely lead Mass, barely talk to people around here, and you expect me to handle a few ghouls who are dead men alive?” His breathing grew ragged, his eyes wide. “The one thing I can control is the music I make, and if I have to use three men who I’ve never known to do so then I fucking will-“

The cacophony of instruments being played at once made the two jump apart, a loud squawk falling out of Copia’s mouth. The two spun and saw the three ghouls were staring at the two of them, the fourth at the drums sitting with its sticks in its lap, unmoving since Copia had arrived.

The ghoul with the black and white bass pointed at the two of them and shook its head. Copia blanched at it, the movement too similar to when Primo would reprimand the children who would run through his garden. Without another word, he fled the room, feeling the stare of all four of his brothers burning a hole into his back as he did so.

Chapter 3: Still, your soul will suffer this plight

Notes:

Y'all mind if I drop some OCs in here??

Anyways I spent a lot of this chapter trying to remember how organized religion functions in every day life and how Mass is conducted cuz it's been nearly a decade since I took that stuff seriously, so sorry if I get it wrong or if it's extremely vague ;-;

Also I keep forgetting to mention but I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr :)

EDIT: fixed the description of his robes as the outfit that Perpetua is wearing is the one he was wearing at the end of the Satanized MV

Perpetua stood with his arms out to the sides as Siblings dressed him for Mass, the clothing slowly weighing him down more and more. As much as he appreciated those embroidered black and purple robes with that glittering, impressive mitre from afar, he felt like a fool at best and an imposter at worst with it on. This was going to be his fourth Mass that he would be leading since he became Papa.

Today, Copia and he would be welcoming a new batch of people who had recently joined the Clergy. Perpetua felt as though he was the last person to be at the head of such a crucial moment in these people’s lives; he hadn’t even had an official ceremony for his conversion as his heritage had been used as the reasoning for the lack of one. And when he had become Papa, it was a small, private ceremony that left him curled up on the ground in pain as his left eye went from green to white, sealing his fate.

Judith entered the room with the leftover pamphlets that held today’s hymns and prayers. She set them down and waited until Perpetua’s mitre was secure on his head before she stepped forward with a large, square, felt box.

“Just in time, Papa,” she said to him and lifted the box. “Your grucifix is finished.”

Great. A priceless, beautiful, expensive necklace to add to this costume he wore. He waved his gauntlets around to indicate he would need help putting it on. “Would you be able to do the honor?”

“Of course!” She set the box down and pulled the necklace out. Despite Perpetua’s hesitancy, he couldn’t hide his surprised whistle at the sight of the dark purple and black jewels.

She stepped forward, and Perpetua stood still. Instead of looping it around his neck, she hooked it into place at his chest. The two larger square pieces had hooks behind that were attached on either side of his cassock. He realized it was in the same style as the grucifix on Copia’s outfit as Frater. Once everything was in place, she stepped back and smiled.

“There,” she said brightly. “You’re finally ritual-ready.”

Perpetua turned to the mirror to look at himself.

The grucifix seemed to tie his outfit together, a piece he hadn’t even known was missing until now. His face paint was still hard to look at, his cheeks blacked out with his mouth framed in silver and pointed black lips. He didn’t feel the pride that seemed to seep out of the paintings of the other Papas in their own chasubles that were on the walls. But as he lifted his head slightly and watched the grucifix sparkle on his chest, he figured that he could at least appreciate the feeling of rightness that had settled in his bones.

With a nod to Judith, the two made their way out of the dressing room and into a side passage that would take them to the lobby of the main chapel, where they held masses and large rituals. As they stepped into the room, he saw Copia was already there, speaking to two of his ghouls.

“Everything is in place, yes? Good, good, you’re dismissed,” he waved the ghouls away. Perpetua watched the two large, bug-eyed helmets slip through the door. He thought of the four ghouls in his arsenal and tried to picture the Clergy filled with them. It was hard to imagine.

“Frater,” he said to Copia with a nod. Copia nodded back, the friendliness he had reserved for the ghouls already gone. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, I believe so.” He hesitated, then stepped beside Perpetua, his motions robotic. Perpetua rolled his eyes. The man’s ability to be absurdly awkward at the oddest moments was unmatched.

Copia motioned for Judith to open the door, and she did so readily. The moment the doors began to swing open, someone began playing an organ, the choir’s singing resonating through the chapel.

The two began walking, Copia slowing to match Perpetua’s pace. As they approached the altar at the front of the room, Perpetua saw the row of the new clergy members who weren’t joining in on the singing as they stood at the frontmost pew. His heart squeezed at the sight of a few of them wiping away tears from their faces.

As they approached the altar, Copia bowed in reverence before taking a seat at the first pew. Perpetua continued until he was at the front of the altar, bowing and stepping around it so that he was behind it and facing the crowd. He laced his hands together as much as he could and began to speak, going through the customary welcome to the clergy, to another mass to celebrate Lucifer. He fumbled his way through a prayer and a song, trying not to watch Copia as his brother seemed to look anywhere but at Perpetua.

Funnily enough, believing in Lucifer’s existence compared to God’s was the easiest thing he had done since becoming Papa. Respecting others, admiring the differences that the Catholic Church demonized, and building community were a few principles that made Perpetua feel more at home than anywhere else. And it helped to see it in action.

When he had first arrived, he was nervous about how people would take his appearance with the half mask he wore on his face. He had started wearing it on and off as a child on days when the world was too brutal, too much. At the time, it was a stage mask that he had worn for a play that he kept, only wearing it when he was alone. It was a habit he kept up through his life, and when he had been brought to the Clergy, he decided to throw caution to the wind and wear it permanently, only taking it off when he slept.

To his surprise, many people liked it. And he guessed it worked with the theatrical looks the Papas had with their skull face paint. What had surprised him even more was the diversity in the Clergy. Members from different races, sexualities, and expressions of gender or lack thereof were incredibly refreshing to see.

Before the last hymn began, he welcomed Copia to the pedestal where they led prayers and songs. He went and stood to the side as Copia gave a speech to welcome the new members and what they could expect life to be like at the Ministry. As much as Perpetua wanted to give Copia the same treatment and simply ignore what he was saying, he knew that many members were watching him, even though he was simply sitting.

Once Copia was done, the two walked back to the altar where they both raised their hands in a silent request for the Congregation to join them in one last hymn.

Hearing Copia’s voice next to him was a lot different than hearing it through a computer screen. It was lower in pitch than Perpetua’s, something that he couldn’t help but feel jealous about. Without thinking, he was altering his tone so that his voice slid beside Copia’s, their notes falling in tandem.

He knew Copia was doing the same. It was as though their voices were being zipped together into one. It reverberated powerfully through the chapel. Perpetua relished the moment, committing every second to memory. This would probably be the only time he and Copia would seem to be in sync, their brotherhood manifested in the one thing they both loved.

When they were finished, Perpetua and Copia walked among the new clergy members, smiling and shaking hands. Perpetua had slid off his gauntlets and given them to a Sister to put away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Copia was focused intently on a woman who was crying as she held his hand. His expression softened, and he brought her into a hug as she sobbed. Perpetua couldn’t help but wonder if he were in that woman’s place, if he were a stranger like her, would Copia soothe his fears and doubts? Would it have been better if they weren’t twins, their lives never intertwined from the moment they were conceived?

“Papa?”

He turned and looked down at a short, young Hispanic adult in front of him. They were wringing their hands together in nervousness. “Thank you for welcoming me in,” they said quietly. “My parents…” Their voice quivered, their eyes squinting to stop the tears. “They found out about me being nonbinary and trans, so they kicked me out. I’ve been living on the streets for months now and…”.

Perpetua reached out and carefully placed a hand over theirs. “What’s your name?” he inquired gently.

“D-Dez, Papa.”

He stooped down slowly, knowing how intimidating he looked. “I think you’re incredibly brave, Dez, for coming here today. And if your parents cannot find the pride and love in themselves to accept you, then just know Lucifer himself will, and so will all of us here at the Clergy.” When they sniffled and made a stifled noise, he smiled and leaned closer.

“Would you like to know a secret?”

They hesitated, then nodded.

“I’m also like you,” he murmured, keeping his gaze steady. “I transitioned myself when I was around your age. It was scary, and hard, but it was also the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He smiled at their wide-eyed stare. “But you cannot tell anyone else, alright? Just know that there’s someone here who understands you just a little bit.”

They nodded again, their eyes bright with newfound awe. Perpetua patted their hand and stepped aside as more experienced Siblings of the Clergy partnered one by one with the newer members to show them around. Perpetua made a mental note to check in on Dez in a few days to see how they were adjusting.

“You- eh- you did good today, V,” Copia said from behind him.

Perpetua turned, surprised. Copia was fiddling with the black cloth that lay over the altar. Perpetua waited to see if he would say more, but when he stayed quiet, he stepped up to the altar so that they were facing each other. He heard the doors click shut behind him as the last of the crowd left, leaving the two of them alone in the chapel.

“Thank you, Frater,” Perpetua replied, keeping his tone professional.

Copia nodded, not noticing the way Perpetua stood still and observant, waiting for the first sign of ugliness to show.

“Have you been practicing with the ghouls?” Copia asked in a neutral tone.

“I have,” Perpetua affirmed, but didn’t elaborate. It was Copia’s turn to wait for him to speak, and when he didn’t, Copia cleared his throat.

“And they’re still… the same?”

Perpetua thought back to the last two weeks. He had practiced with the ghouls every day for at least an hour. Hearing his music come to life made it easy, maybe a little too easy, to forget that he was singing with his dead brothers. He had actually begun to look forward to practicing with them. The longer he spent time with them the more they seemed to grow a personality, their own behaviors and quirks.

He had noticed that compared to the drummer ghoul, the other three seemed more… human in the way they expressed themselves. They sometimes motioned at each other when they wanted to get the others attention or would play a tune on their instrument that was reminiscent to a song from their album. Perpetua had even seen Terzo trip over a stray wire but he had caught himself with a graceful step.

“…For the most part, yes.”

Copia’s eyes closed with a sigh. Perpetua tensed, already moving on to the balls of his feet to make a quick escape.

However, Copia placed his elbows on the altar and dropped his forehead into his hands, his fingers sliding into his hair. Perpetua saw that the gray streaks had seemed to almost double in length since he had first met Copia almost three months ago.

“Can you see why it’s hard for me to see the ghouls, to hear them sing?” Copia murmured, his voice slightly muffled. “They’re the fucking Emerituses. They're supposed to be like kings in this place, rulers both on stage and behind this altar. And yet they-“ he stopped.

“What happened to them?” Perpetua prodded. Despite asking several people and the Psaltarians, nobody had given him a straight answer. He knew they had died and were carted around countries and cities to be displayed to the masses. But how or why they died was still a mystery to him.

Copia’s head shot up. “You don’t know?”

Perpetua shook his head. “Nobody will tell me.”

Copia’s gaze was already falling on the door, his posture straightening. Perpetua almost folded over the altar in his haste to grab Copia’s wrist to stop him from leaving. He felt his mitre tip forward on his head from how quickly he had moved.

They froze, Copia’s eyes falling onto Perpetua’s bare hand where it was tightly gripping his wrist.

“Tell me,” Perpetua demanded. “No more bullshitting. If I’m going to be Papa, I need to know what happened.”

Copia stared a little longer at his hand, then looked up at him. “Our mother had them killed while they were playing Uno.”

Perpetua stared at him, gobsmacked. He let go of Copia’s wrist as though it burned. “Is that a fucking joke?”

A burst of laughter exploded out of Copia, his eyes a little wide as though he was surprised at his reaction to Perpetua’s question. And once he started, he didn’t stop, holding one arm against the altar as he hugged himself around his waist. His laughter banged off the ceiling and reverberated around them. Perpetua almost turned to look at the pews, half-expecting to see the congregation seated and laughing with Copia.

“Can you fucking believe it?” Copia wheezed. His torso was almost parallel to the altar, given how hard he was laughing. “Killed while playing Uno. Stabbed with a fucking syringe by Terzo’s own ghouls. That’s who Sister was scared of; three men playing Uno on a Tuesday.”

Perpetua was frozen on his feet. “Did Papa Nihil do anything?”

“That old fucker?” Copia could barely get the words out. “He agreed with her, of course. If Sister asks you to bark, you get on all fours and howl. If she tells you to fetch her a glass of water, you serve it in a gold chalice. If she says she wants to murder your four sons so that they’re not in her way, you get the knife yourself.”

Perpetua stared at Copia’s shaking back. It made sense now why everyone was so skittish whenever he asked about the three Papas’ deaths. If he had known about it before he became Papa himself, he would’ve denied the papacy and not looked back.

No, you wouldn’t. You would’ve still accepted it. Anything was better than what you thought about doing in the dead of night, the way it was more and more tantalizing with each passing day.

“Why did she do it?” He blurted. “For what reason?”

Copia’s laughter was finally dying down. He was kneeling behind the altar and propped himself up so that his forearms were lying on top of it, with his chin pillowed. “For us, V. She planned it all out; first me, as Papa, then Frater Imperator.” Perpetua didn’t miss the scorn in his voice as he said his new title. “And then, when the time was right and she kicked the bucket herself, she finally brought her two dearest boys back together as one happy family, and made you Papa. Family legacy sealed.”

If Perpetua weren’t wearing his chasuble, he would have collapsed to his knees by now from shock. Instead, he placed his hands on the altar and hung his head low. He swallowed down bile that had been rising up his throat. “Sorry that I asked.”

Copia shrugged. He had a manic look in his eyes that made Perpetua nervous. “It’s probably for the best that you heard it from me.”

“Still…” Perpetua thought back to the ghouls in the chapel. Did this change his mind about them, about how he saw them? If anything, it made him just feel sorry for his three brothers; maybe they were enjoying their time back with the living, making music and spending time with each other.

“We have to get rid of them.”

Perpetua looked up at him, almost wondering if Copia had somehow read his mind. “What?”

Copia was standing now, mimicking Perpetua’s posture. “We have to get rid of the ghouls, V. They’ve been dead for years; there’s no way that whatever is in those ghouls are the Papas.”

Yesterday’s practice appeared in Perpetua’s mind. They had been playing for almost three hours without a break. Despite the ache that was beginning to grow in Perpetua’s throat, he told the ghouls to start at the beginning once again.

When he turned back to his mic he heard Secondo’s guitar strum as he stepped next to Perpetua. When Perpetua caught his eye he pointed at Terzo’s stool that was empty. Uncertain of what the ghoul meant he opened his mouth to dismiss it but began to cough, the action causing his throat to burn.

Primo placed a hand on his shoulder and before he knew it he was being pushed toward the stool and sitting down, Terzo appearing with a water bottle from the mini fridge. He took it on instinct, shocked at the care that the ghouls were showing him. They had been interacting with him more every day, yes, but never something as straightforward as this.

“Thank… you?” He said dumbly. The three ghouls stood around him until he finally opened the water and drank. When he had finished half the bottle, Primo nodded, and the three of them walked away from him, leaving him perplexed.

That night, he replayed the moment in his head. The ghouls, his brothers, didn’t seem like they were in any pain or distress in their current state. And they were doing their jobs exceedingly well; once they had a few more ghouls, Perpetua couldn’t see any problems arising as they officially started their album.

But why didn’t the drummer ghoul help him the way the other three did? Was it their familial ties that drove the three of them to help Perpetua? He couldn’t smother the warmth that spread in his chest at the thought, as creepy and weird as it was to find comfort in his three dead brothers caring for him in the body of ghouls.

That warmth was nowhere to be found as he and Copia stared each other down. What if they hadn’t been acting on brotherly instinct, and instead were serving him as Papa? His stomach rolled at the thought, but what made his head spin was the realization that he didn’t care if that’s what was happening.

That one act, that simple gesture from the three of them, had opened up a bottomless pit in him. That act of kindness was what he had wanted from the beginning; the acknowledgment that he was loved by family, cared for, and respected by those who mattered most. He had been denied his chance to get that familial care from Copia, he’d be damned if he missed another opportunity to get what he had missed out on all his life even if it came in the form of his three half-brothers in ghouls.

“No.”

Copia looked surprised. Perpetua couldn’t blame him; he was the one who, after all, had first set boundaries against playing with the ghouls. Copia opened his mouth to say something, but Perpetua was already speaking again.

“That’s my final decision. They’re my ghouls; any problems that come up, I’ll deal with.”

He remained tense, ready to defend his case. So he was surprised when Copia’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low with defeat. “You win.”

Perpetua felt the tension slowly ebb from his body, leaving him feeling as though he had gone through a strenuous workout. “Alright. Good.”

He watched as Copia simply nodded his head in agreement, his gaze distracted as he walked around the altar and out of the chapel.

Their first agreement. Perpetua hoped that it didn’t just cost him everything.

Chapter 4: You're so goddamn frail, failing for a change

Notes:

First off:

TW: a smidge of suicide ideations

Woe, more OCs be upon ye...

Thank u for the kudos and comments so far :) I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr if u wanna talk about ghost with me (plz its that and Sonic are all I think about these days and there's only so much I can torture my bf with about Perpetua and Sonic)

Even though Copia had lived at the Ministry all his life, he could count on one hand the number of times he had spoken to Secondo.

This was the fourth time.

He was hurrying down the hallway, nearly late for his next class. It was only his second month as a Cardinal-in-training and he was barely keeping his head above the amount of work he was swamped in. Endless hours volunteering both in the Clergy and around town, taking courses on the teachings of Satan and how to apply it to the world, and also keeping up with his regular duties as a member of the Clergy had caused him to run out of energy in the tank.

He had just turned the corner and was frantically scribbling down the last few sentences of his essay when he collided with someone. He fell back with a yelp, the materials in his hands flying out of his hands and around the hallway. An apology was already sputtering out as he picked himself up, but once he saw who he had bumped into his voice cut off with a squeak.

Secondo hadn’t budged an inch, his gaze hard as he stared down at Copia. He looked at Copia’s study materials that were scattered around them with an aloof expression.

Silence stretched out between them, Copia painfully aware of the throbbing coming from his lower back.

“Next time,” Secondo said gruffly. “Try Creatio In Arcanis instead of that monstrosity of a tome. It’s easier to read.”

And then he was stepping around Copia, his robes billowing around him as he continued down the hall as though nothing had occurred.

Copia had stared after him in a daze before a door shutting startled him into action. He quickly gathered his materials and headed to class. Later that day he went to the library and found the book Secondo had mentioned. It was ancient, nearly falling apart in his hands when he set it down to read. The elaborate font took a few paragraphs to get used to but, like Secondo had said, it was easier to understand.

Albeit boring, he was able to finally understand what his professor was saying: that magic cannot be taken from something and turned into anything, that it must come from a source and be paid back in return. A life for a life, an eye for an eye. One of the oldest lessons of mankind’s pettiness.

Before Copia left the library he was curious to see who had checked it out before him. The only people to have checked it out were Secondo and Sister Imperator.

—

This was Copia’s life for the next month:

Get up for the day.

Have breakfast in his office.

Write emails about Perpetua.

Have lunch in the cafeteria and listen to people talk about Perpetua.

Sit in meetings about Perpetua.

Avoid Perpetua and the chapel he practiced in, like it were the plague.

Have a late dinner, sometimes with the Psaltarians, who also talked about Perpetua.

Go to bed.

Repeat.

Sometimes he would take a day off and drive down to the coast and spend the day wandering, letting the breeze take away his thoughts for a few hours. Or he would go and visit with other members of the church, taking the time to listen to their problems or assisting them with a task. On most nights, he would lie awake, watching the clock tick away minute by minute, dreading the sight of sunlight peeking through his curtains. The start of another day that surrounded his brother.

Perpetua this. Perpetua that. He was all anyone could talk about. His appearance had Siblings tittering and giggling behind their hands, the music that echoed down the hallway from the practice chapel leaving excited impressions on those that heard it. Rumors were being exchanged like currency about Perpetua’s past: potential lovers, where he grew up, what kind of education (or lack of) he got, and why he wore that mask of his. It was as though his sudden arrival was the best thing to have happened at the Ministry; a new face to lead Ghost that wasn’t tied to the Emeritus name.

It was those nights that Copia felt as though it would be better for everyone if he had died with the Papas.

He knew he was being dramatic. And he knew it wasn’t Perpetua’s fault that the man had been born, bundled and shipped to some Catholic orphanage until Sister deemed him suitable for the papacy. Copia just wished his brother had at least some type of egotistical bone in his body, something for Copia to feel at least a little valid in his petulant dislike of him. But he could see how much Perpetua was trying, how he put on a brave face in front of others to mask his self-doubts. Yes, Copia could see why he was well-liked and respected by the Clergy.

And he knew who to really blame in the face of his imprudence. But when it came to opening the Pandora’s Box that was his feelings toward their mother, it was much easier to wallow in his envy and the encompassing loneliness that came with it.

But today was a break in the monotony. Today, he would see his new office.

He stepped inside with his box of belongings, taking a slow look around the room.

The walls were dark chestnut wood, the windows open and facing out into the garden. His desk was large and ornate, with a new computer and printer on it. The chair looked comfortable and had wheels on it, something Copia knew he would take advantage of by gliding around the room when he was bored. Across from his desk was a coffee table and two chairs in front of it. All in all, a pretty good upgrade from the spare room and couch he had up until then.

However, as he set his box on the coffee table and went to boot up his computer, he noticed he was missing the mouse. With a sigh, he quickly looked at his schedule to make sure he had enough time to take a quick trip to the library. They had a small computer room for those in the Clergy who needed them for whatever reason.

Copia made his way there, making sure to greet Siblings on the way. It was a nice day; the sunlight streamed through windows and skylights, emphasizing the beautiful murals and gold trim that were scattered throughout the Ministry. Copia wondered if he should take his lunch outside today and enjoy the fresh air.

When he reached the library, he stepped inside and walked over to the main desk, where he was greeted by a familiar face.

Adam Warnock was behind the desk just like he had been for the last fifty years. He had joined the Ministry in his twenties, gotten the position of head librarian, and had been there ever since. Many a Papa had tried to get the old man to retire, to let someone else take over for him so that he could spend the rest of his days relaxing, but he had always refused, stating that when he saw Jesus Christ himself, that's when he’d retire. When Copia had become Papa, he had simply left Adam to run the library as he saw fit, not wanting to antagonize the man further. He still remembered the time when Adam had scolded Terzo in front of the busy library for getting handsy with a Sibling amid dusty bookshelves.

So he was surprised when he saw a middle-aged Black woman in goth makeup behind the desk with him.

“Ah, Frater!” Adam said with a smile. “It’s so good to see you here. I can’t remember the last time you set foot in the library.”

Copia smiled back. “Did you finally see Jesus, old man?”

Adam cackled, not caring about the occupied tables a few feet away who jumped at the loud noise. “Close. Met a guy named Jesus when I went to buy a new pack of cigs a few days ago. He even offered to light one up with me.”

“I hope you took him up on his offer,” Copia joked back. “And who’s this wonderful lady?”

The woman lifted her long braids to reveal her name tag. Her name was Anya. “Good afternoon, Frater,” she said, her voice deep but teasing. “I’m Adam’s caretaker.”

“She’s joking, Frater,” Adam grumbled, giving her a half-hearted glare that contained more affection than ire. “I’ve decided to take on an apprentice to show her the ropes on how to run this place. After her little one graduated from high school and fled the nest, she spent a lot of time here to get her legs under her again. And I know a thing or two about living life after your kid isn’t around anymore.”

Copia nodded solemnly. He knew what had driven Adam to the church was to seek out an answer for his son’s untimely death when he was only twenty-three. He had come into the chapel in a burst of grief-ridden rage, believing that Satan himself had a hand in his son’s death. “A man too good for this world,” he had raged at Nihil, who was Papa at the time. “A Michael in this era of Lucifers, and Satan himself had taken him.”

And in a rare act of humanity, Nihil had let the man scream into his face for as long as he needed, until his voice was breaking, his body shaking from exhaustion, and he had collapsed on the steps leading up to the altar.

He never did find his answer. But he had found peace in the quiet mornings of hymns and prayers, and so he had stayed.

“I worked two jobs at once for the past seven years to get my kid, Talia, a good home for her to focus on her studies,” Anya explained as she opened a box of books and began sorting them. “She’s got a full ride to Princeton, studying to get a degree in International Relations. She wants to work for something like N.A.T.O. one day.” While her tone was casual, Copia could hear the pride in it.

Copia whistled. “Sounds like she’ll be the type of person we’ll be hearing about on the news every day.”

Anya laughed. “Wouldn’t surprise me. She’s got more purpose in her heart than anyone I know, and I know a lot of people.”

A Sister approached the desk, and Anya turned to assist her. Copia moved down the desk to give the two space, nodding to the Sister when she greeted him.

“So, Frater,” Adam said as he slowly lowered himself into his chair. “You here to help Papa with his studies?”

“Help who with what?” Copia asked, confused. Did Perpetua enroll in some kind of program or something since they last talked?

“Papa’s been here pretty often this past week, asking about books that have to do with ghouls,” Adam explained. “He said he’s trying to prepare for the next batch that’ll be summoned in about a month.”

Now, why would Perpetua suddenly be interested in summoning ghouls? There was no way he could do it himself; they had special members on-site for that type of ritual. Unless he was suddenly having issues with them or was figuring out how to get rid of them.

Copia cleared his throat and straightened. “Right! Right, yes, he asked me to help him. Could you, by chance, write down a list of the books he’s already checked out? I’m going to look over them in case he missed anything.”

“Sure thing, Frater,” Adam slipped on his glasses and squinted at his computer. Suddenly restless, Copia drummed his fingers along the desk, his mind racing. Should he try to confront Perpetua about the ghouls again? He had told him to figure it out on his own, but Perpetua didn’t grow up surrounded by ghouls like Copia did, nor how to properly do research on the arcane. He was suddenly worried about the Ministry being down one Papa because Perpetua decided to make a rash decision. And as complicated as Copia’s feelings were towards his brother, it didn’t mean he wanted him injured or dead.

“Could you get that paper out of the printer, Anya?” Adam asked. “I just sat down, and it’ll take me at least four business days to get back up.”

“I’ve got it, Adam.” She stepped into the backroom and appeared with a piece of paper that she handed to Copia.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Do you need help finding them, or do you want a Sibling to take care of it for you?” She asked.

“Eh, I can manage it,” he responded, already looking over the list. “It’ll help me become familiar with the library again.”

Adam nodded. “Let us know if you need help, Frater.”

Copia made a noise of assent, already walking to the long rows of books at the back. It took him almost thirty minutes to gather four books as he had to remember how to navigate the bookshelves but when he had them in hand he stopped by the desk once more to check them out then hurried to his office.

Once there, he moved the box of his stuff to the floor and replaced it with his books. Then, he phoned Judith.

“Frater? What can I do for you?”

“Judith, I need you to cancel my meetings today and reschedule them for later this week. I’m assisting V with something that takes priority. But don’t tell anyone!” He added as an afterthought. He didn’t want Perpetua to catch wind of him snooping.

“Of course! Anything else?”

He turned to his computer and remembered what he had first set out to do.

“Ah, can you get me a mouse for my computer, please?”

Chapter 5: You and I see eye to eye

Notes:

Why is writing two grown men so much harder than writing two talking hedgehogs :-: anyways I hope you all like this chapter it was a whole doozy and a half

And again I hope I'm not doing too bad with Copia and Perpetua's characters, I've been a fan of ghost for a few years but didn't get into the lore until March sooo I'm kinda just going off of what I've read from other fics and the chapters for the most part, and with Perpetua I haven't seen any videos of him (we all know why) so I'm kinda winging it with him.

I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr :))

Hours later, Copia was lying on the floor to find any sort of relief for his aching back after having been hunched over his coffee table. After scouring book after book, reading and skimming page after page, it brought him no closer to figuring out Perpetua’s endgame than when he had started.

The books covered a variety of topics, from the hypotheticals of how ghouls reproduced (some thought it came from magic, others believed they held a special realm in Hell where they mated), how humans depicted ghouls throughout mankind’s history (badly), and whether or not ghouls could be capitalized (he didn’t even bother opening that one).

It made sense that Perpetua wouldn’t know where to start when it came to whatever issue he was trying to solve. If he were in Perpetua’s shoes, he would’ve started the same way: broad topics that he could slowly work through to find the answer he needed.

He sat up with a wince and looked at the time. It was almost nine in the evening, few would be asleep, but plenty would be in bed by now. After a moment to think about it he said “fuck it” and left his office, heading toward Perpetua’s room.

It wasn’t until he had stepped out into the courtyard to take a shortcut to the wing that held private apartments that he realized he had no idea which would be Perpetua’s.

He could ask Judith, but he knew she had taken the evening off early, and he didn’t want to disturb her with such an odd question. He was about to wait until the morning when he saw a familiar ghoul wandering through a patch of clover.

It was one of the ghouls he had taken with him on his last tour. Copia glanced around to see if anyone else was in the courtyard with them, but it was empty.

“Uh, excuse me? Ghoul?” He stepped toward it with a wave. “Would you be able to assist me with something?”

The ghoul bobbed its head in acknowledgment and met Copia halfway. “Do you know where Perpetua’s room is?”

Another nod.

Copia and the ghoul stood in the courtyard for a moment. With a scowl, he asked, “Can you show me where it is, please?”

A chittering noise came from the ghoul as it turned on its heel and walked toward the door that Copia was planning on taking. Despite it being months since they had toured together, it seemed as though his ghouls still enjoyed making his life harder than it needed to be.

He followed silently, taking mental notes as the two entered the hallway that held private suites for higher members of the Clergy. His own room was situated on the opposite side of the courtyard, as he had taken a new suite set aside for his role as Frater. Perpetua had chosen his room as he preferred something smaller and easier to take care of compared to the luxurious apartment that was bestowed upon the Papas.

Once they had reached the door, the ghoul nodded its head at Copia.

“Thank you,” Copia whispered to it. Once it had disappeared around the corner, he turned to the door and suddenly felt self-conscious. How would Perpetua react to his visiting him on a random evening? Probably not with open arms. Still, Copia knocked on the door and waited.

A moment later, he heard footsteps approach the door before it opened.

“Who- Frater?”

Thank Lucifer he was still in his usual slacks and turtle neck, this one a dark blue. It would’ve been more awkward than it already was if he was in his pajamas.

“Uh- ‘sup?”

Perpetua’s surprised look turned unimpressed. “What do you want?”

Copia glanced up and down the hall. “It’s about- you know.”

“No,” Perpetua said tartly. “I don’t.”

Copia huffed. Alright, he can be straightforward. “Your ghouls, V. I want to help you with whatever is happening.”

Perpetua stiffened, his grip on the door tightening. “How did you know something’s happening?”

“Oh, Belial’s balls- will you just let me in so nobody overhears us?”

His brother glowered at him but stepped back to let him in. When Copia was inside, he took a moment to look around.

They were in the hallway that had a kitchenette to the right. Further down, it opened into a large, spacious room that had Perpeuta’s bed and a dresser next to it. Across from it was his desk with a floor lamp that was on, bathing the room in a soft purple light. Copia saw that a smaller lap was on and focused on a large, open book. To his left was a closed door, probably the bathroom, and a little further down, an open door closet. Not much decoration, but there was the beginning of a cozy touch to it.

“This is a nice place,” Copia complimented.

Perpetua made a noise to acknowledge him as he walked past him and flipped on the light so that the two could see each other better. Copia noticed he wasn’t wearing gloves as he sat down at his desk.

When neither of them talked, Copia decided to just bite the bullet.

“I went to the library today to get a new mouse for my computer, and Adam mentioned you were doing research about ghouls. I checked out the books you had already read to get an idea of what you were searching for, but couldn’t find anything. So,” he spread his hands. “I wanted to offer my help.”

“Why?” Perpetua asked. “Why do you keep going back and forth when it comes to who deals with the ghouls?”

“I…” Just be honest, Copia. Tell him you don’t want him to get hurt or worse. He took in a deep breath. “I’m worried that something bad will happen if you stumble on the wrong thing. And it would be hell to fill out the paperwork if something like that happened.” Fuck.

Perpetua’s face darkened. He stood and started for the door. “Just leave, Frater.”

“Wait, wait! Fuck, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry. I’m worried that something horrible will happen to you if you try something you have no experience in. And I can’t-“ his voice choked up, but he forced the words out. “I can’t lose another brother. I just can’t, not if I can stop it.”

Perpetua froze with his hand around the door knob, his back facing Copia. With a sigh, he leaned forward until his head thumped against the door.

“Why now?” Perpetua murmured. “Why do you want to help me now, and not when I first showed up? Or when I first asked for help with the ghouls?”

Oh, Copia was not prepared whatsoever for this conversation. He rubbed a hand up and down his arm in an attempt to soothe himself.

But he had to try.

“I didn’t know I was going to be made Papa, V,” Copia began. Perpetua turned his head slightly but didn’t face him. “When Sister asked- told me that I would be Papa, I didn’t fight it. Just like everyone here, I was powerless to her. But fuck, I can’t lie when I say I was excited.” He sighed at the memory. It felt as though his life really began at that moment. “And then the next morning, the Papas were dead. And I…” his voice shook, and he clenched his fists. “I was angry. Angry at Sister and Nihil for deciding to end their lives, angry for not giving themselves the decency of a proper burial. Angry most of all for still being so excited about being Papa.”

Perpetua finally turned around, his face blank as he watched Copia fall apart.

“For a few years, I had everything,” Copia ground out. “I had music, I had people cheering my name, I was doing everything everyone expected of me, and I wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. Sister, Mr. Psaltarian, Nihil, people I was supposed to look up to, dismissed me because I didn’t have a hit song, nominated for Grammys, and yet I walked away empty-handed. My life in the hands of the people who raised me, being all vague about my mortality, making me paranoid and fucking scared all the time. And when she dies, she takes the only thing I had come to love with my whole heart and soul, and gives it to you, a brother I never knew I had.”

He screwed his eyes shut and felt tears squeeze out of them. “I know none of this is your fault, Perpetua, and I’m sorry that I didn’t do more for you before now. It’s just… when she died, it felt like I could finally be angry at her, at my circumstances, at everyone. She’s gone. And I don’t know how to even begin processing it all, so it was easier to ignore you, to make it seem like this all started when you showed up, when in reality this has been my entire life-“

Arms wrapped around him, enveloping him in warmth. Hair tickled his nose, and he opened his eyes, looking over Perpetua’s shoulder. He didn’t move for a long moment before he slowly raised his own arms and carefully looped them around his brother’s back, and squeezed.

Like a dam bursting, the two clutched at each other. Neither of them sobbed, neither of them even made a noise. But Copia felt tears soak into his shoulder, felt Perpetua tremble in his arms as he cried. And he knew he wasn’t doing any better. There was probably a huge patch of snot that would permanently stain Perpetua’s turtleneck. At least it was soft.

Copia realized that he couldn’t remember when he had embraced someone like this, someone close that was family. His brother was a slighter man than he was, but no less solid. He was warm and alive, whole in a way that astounded Copia. This was the man whom he had shared a womb, had seen the world with for the first time. The thought made him tighten his arms a little more.

After a few minutes, Perpetua gently pushed at Copia and the two pulled apart. Both of them had black paint smeared down their faces, the two of them looking more like raccoons than high members of the Ministry.

“You can, uh-“ Perpetua pointed a thumb at the bathroom, breaking the awkward silence. “You can wash your face and reapply your paint first, if you want. It’ll take me longer because of my mask.”

Copia nodded his thanks and stepped into the bathroom, softly closing the door behind him. He flipped on the light, and his gaze fell on the open package of menstrual pads sitting on the counter. His mind went through Perpetua’s room. He hadn’t seen any women’s clothing around, nor had he seen or heard anyone in the hallway on his way here. He quickly washed his face off and patted it dry before using Perpetua’s paint to reapply his makeup, the process quick with muscle memory.

When he stepped out, he found Perpetua at the kitchen sink, wiping his cheeks with a wet rag.

“Um- sorry if I interrupted you if you had company.”

“Company?” Perpetua echoed with a frown. “You’re the only person who’s been in my apartment besides me.”

“What?” Copia asked, confused. “Then, whose pads…?”

Perpetua stared at him, then burst into laughter. He laughed with his whole body, just like Copia. “You don’t know?”

Copia scowled. “Know what?”

“I’m a trans man, Copia,” Perpetua said between laughs. “Those pads are mine. I just got off my period.”

Oh. Oh. Copia blanched. “So when I told you to grow a pair…”

His brother simply nodded, too busy laughing to form words.

Copia groaned and buried his face in his hands. Lucifer smite him, he was so fucking dumb. “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t know until now. But I don’t care that you’re- eh- a man.”

His brother snorted.”Glad to know you were just being a regular asshole instead of a bigoted asshole.”

“...You’re welcome?”

With another snort and a shake of his head, Perpetua told Copia he was going to wash his face off in the bathroom. Copia nodded. The moment the door clicked shut he went to Perpetua’s desk and sat down and looked over the book Perpetua was reading. Anything to get his mind off of how bad he fumbled this conversation. He flipped to the title page and smirked at the title.

Demons and Ghouls: A Basic Guide to Summoning

Why Perpetua didn’t grab this book first was beyond him. He grabbed a pen and wrote down chapters that he thought would help Perpetua understand the ghouls more on a notepad, so that he didn’t have to go through the entire thing.

When Perpetua was done in the bathroom, Copia was writing down a list of books he could remember from his days as a Cardinal in training.

He beckoned the other man over. “Here’s a list of chapters and books that might help you with the ghouls.” He paused. “What is the problem with the ghouls, anyway?”

Perpetua bit his lip. He hadn’t bothered reapplying his paint but had wiped the smudges from his cheeks. “They’re becoming a bit… aggressive.”

Copia straightened, alarmed. “Aggressive? Fuck, Perpetua, why didn’t you say anything before? They could hurt you or the other ghoul!”

“Not towards me!” Perpetua quickly said. “Just in general. Specifically, when they play certain songs.”

This was getting more complicated by the second. “What songs?”

“…Your songs.”

Well.

That was rude.

“That’s rude,” Copia said, offended.

“I’m serious,” Perpetua said, then he shook his head. “You can see for yourself if you come to rehearsals tomorrow.”

Copia didn’t know if he wanted to be in the same room as aggressive ghouls, especially if his songs caused them to lash out. But he nodded anyway. He had vowed to help Perpetua in this matter, and he wasn’t going back on it.

He glanced over at the clock that was on Perpetua’s desk. It was past eleven; he needed to head to bed.

“Alright, I’ll make sure to be available during your rehearsal,” Copia promised. He stood, the two of them nearly chest to chest. The air became uncomfortable as the two realized that they had never had an amicable conversation before, let alone parted on good terms.

“Uh,” Perpetua started.

“Well,” Copia began.

They stared at each other, then both chuckled awkwardly.

“We really are twins, huh?” Copia asked.

“We’re the worst twins ever,” Perpetua replied.

“Hey, there’s room for improvement,” Copia protested. The weird energy gone, he stepped around Perpetua and walked to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Perpetua.”

“Tomorrow,” the other man said. “And, Copia?”

Copia turned from where he was about to step into the hallway. “Hm?”

Perpetua was picking at his nails, his gaze meeting Copia’s before sliding away. “Thank you for apologizing. And for telling me everything. I really appreciate it.”

A lump formed in Copia’s throat, and he cleared his throat to banish it. “Yeah, of course. It… it was nice to get it off my chest.”

A half smile. “Good. Have a- um- have a nice night.”

“You, too.” And then Copia was stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

Despite it being late, he took the longer way back to his apartment, needing the time to think about what had happened.

His grief and anger were still there, still fresh and sore. But he had done the hard part by ripping the band-aid off to reveal the extent of the damage.

And his relationship with Perpetua wasn’t one hundred percent solid after just one meaningful conversation. He still barely knew him; hell, he had only found out he was a trans man tonight after knowing him for over two months now.

But the two stood on even ground now, with neither of them harboring ill feelings toward the other, at least on Copia’s side. Perpetua being Papa still stung a little, but Copia found it was easier to digest than it was before. And they had a clear goal to achieve together, something that would keep the two of them on the same page.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Copia went to bed looking forward to the sunrise.

Chapter 6: You will wear your independence like a crown

Notes:

TW: EXPLICIT MENTIONS OF GROOMING AND SUICIDE!!!

This a heavier chapter!! Plz look at the tags and the tw above.

I wasn't planning on posting today, but I made an edit to the notes in chapter three? I think? I explained it in there but basically I keep thinking Marika is related to Sister, and not to Nihil. For the sake of this fic, Marika refers to Sister as her sister cuz I've in way too deep to change it lol. They're not related, just extremely close to one another.

If there's any other inconsistencies, plz let me know!!

The next morning, Perpetua sighed into his breakfast of eggs and toast, the sound echoing in the nearly empty cafeteria. He hadn’t slept much last night, and after tossing and turning for hours he finally decided to get up, his mind still playing through last night. He normally wouldn’t eat in the cafeteria but he wanted to make more of an effort to be seen around the Ministry so he began eating his breakfasts alone at the cafeteria.

He hadn’t expected Copia to come to his room or offer his help. And he definitely wasn’t expecting Copia’s gut-wrenching explanation for his behavior or the heartfelt apology. It had almost been too much, watching this grown man nearly break down over the injustices of his life. Perpetua’s heart ached for the man, and his own insecurities and doubts were cast aside to comfort his brother.

And the conversation the two had afterwards, how nice it was to joke with the other man. It made Perpetua feel more at ease than he had in a long time; that hope he had extinguished flickered to life. And it eased a large weight off his shoulders knowing that his brother was going to help him with the ghouls.

Speaking of the ghouls.

The first couple of weeks after Copia and he had that conversation in the chapel were good. Things were looking up for Perpetua; rehearsals were going smoothly, he was slowly finding his footing around the Ministry, and he was starting to get a better handle on what he wanted his album to represent.

And then he had to ruin it.

It first happened when Perpetua was rummaging through a file cabinet in the back of the rehearsal chapel. He found an old copy of Copia’s first opener, “Rats,” and decided to try to play it with his ghouls to freshen things up. If he was being honest, it was one of his favorite songs that Copia had written.

When he handed the ghouls copies of the piece so that they could look over it, they didn’t seem agitated. It wasn’t until they were halfway through the song that Perpetua heard the growling and snapping behind him. During the guitar solo, he turned and saw Terzo twitching and gnashing his teeth together as he struggled to play the keyboard. He stopped the other ghouls, and that’s when he noticed how Primo and Secondo were gripping their instruments in tight hands and were also twitching, their arms spasming as they tried to control their actions.

Perpetua slowly took the microphone from its stand and watched the three of them as he sang the first two lines after the solo.

Them filthy rodents are still coming for your souls

Never to let go, never to let go

Secondo snarled and ripped the guitar strap in his haste to get the instrument away from him. Perpetua flinched but quickly stepped in front of the ghoul, placing the mic on a nearby stool and raising his hands to try to calm him.

“Alright, alright! No more ‘Rats,’ I’m sorry.”

As though a switch had been flipped, the three ghouls went back to their instruments as though nothing had happened. Perpetua stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving and heart racing. He suddenly felt like he was in an episode of The Twilight Zone. Even though it had barely been an hour of practice, he quickly said his goodbyes to the ghouls, not even helping with cleaning up as he sped from the room.

A few days later, he tried another song, “Call Me Little Sunshine.” They had barely gotten to the first chorus before the three began twitching and huffing, and Perpetua stopped the song and shoved it back into the filing cabinet. He switched over to a new song as a way to apologize to the ghouls, “Satanized.” That practice had been rough as he was distracted by his thoughts, and by extension, the ghouls were struggling to follow along.

After that sessio,n he had gone to the library in search of… well, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to get rid of the ghouls; he had come to greatly care for them and their eccentrics. But he also knew that he couldn’t work with them if they weren’t going to play any of Copia’s songs. He would just have to see what Copia thought during rehearsals later.

“Morning, Papa!”

He glanced up from his meal, startled.

Dez was standing in front of him with a tray of oatmeal and fruit. Standing next to them was a young Filipino woman. They were both wearing black button ups and slacks, Dez’s tucked and neat while the other was baggy and messy. Perpetua recognized her instantly as Micah, one of the few troublemakers at the Clergy. She often snuck out and was gone for days on end, or would somehow acquire spray cans and graffiti the buildings. The teen dorms were her favorite marking spot.

Perpetua glanced between the two of them, wondering what the story was behind the two befriending each other. He didn’t miss the way Micah was shifting on her feet, her hands stuffed in her pockets, and not looking anywhere in Perpetua’s direction.

Oh, yes. Perpetua knew this sort of person very well. He had run into many variations of Micah’s when he was part of the Catholic Church, and unfortunately, when many turned into Dez’s, they would be preyed upon by greedy pastors and priests. Perpetua knew from personal experience; he had been a Micah until a handsome priest named Father Jim DeFroque wooed him into switching churches and effectively isolated him from society for a whole year until Perpetua was able to escape with his full-ride college scholarship. A week into his first semester, he heard on the news that Father DeFroque had disappeared overnight and was never found.

He banished that train of thought. That was years ago; this was now.

“Good morning, you two,” he said to them. “Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

Dez nodded with a smile and sat down, motioning for Micah to join them when she didn’t move. Slowly, she pulled back her seat and sat at the very edge, her eyes finally meeting Perpetua’s before darting away.

Perpetua decided to try for a conversation. “How has your morning been, Micah?”

Micah glanced at him and frowned slightly. “Good.”

Perpetua nodded. He’d take that. “And you, Dez?”

“I stayed up reading,” Dez said sheepishly. “And forgot that we had early morning choir practice. Micah was the one who woke me up.”

That’s right. The choir was going to perform at a local auction event in about a week. That explained the outfits as it was the uniform for choir members.

“That’s kind of you, Micah,” he said to her affably. She shifted in her seat, obviously uncomfortable with the attention.

“Only ‘cuz I knew Dez would rip my ass if we missed choir practice,” she muttered.

Dez laughed, and Perpetua chuckled as well.

“Yeah,” Dez agreed. “Choir practice is one of my favorite things about the Clergy; all of the songs are so beautiful, and everyone is so talented!”

“I’ll have to talk to Frater to see if the two of us can visit before your performance,” Perpetua mused. “You know, I was a choir teacher before I became Papa. I could give you all some advice as well.”

“Weren’t you part of the Catholic Church?” Micah asked suddenly. Her voice was too loud to be casual, too pointed.

“Yes,” Perpetua replied lightly. “I was. Though I would say that I was more Catholic in name than anything. I don’t think I believed in God for a very long time, if at all.”

Micah stared at him for a long moment, her face indiscernible. Dez glanced at her but didn’t say a word, instead taking a few bites of their oatmeal. Perpetua followed Dez’s lead, not wanting to pressure Micah into speaking.

“How did you become Papa if you’re Catholic?”

“Was.” Perpetua corrected. “I was Catholic. Now I believe in Lucifer. It’s much easier to believe in someone who is much more kind than God-”

“But you’re trans, right?”

Perpetua stopped. Dez whipped their head to look ar their friend in shock. “Micah,” they reprimanded, then said to Perpetua, “I didn’t tell her, I swear, I haven’t told anyone-”

“It’s alright, Dez,” Perpetua interrupted gently. “I trust you.” He turned to Micah. “I am. I transitioned when I was twenty years old, have been on T since, and got top surgery a decade ago. While I’m not ashamed in any way I would like it if this could stay between the three of us, Micah, as it is my story to tell. Yes?”

Micah’s cheeks went pink and she nodded reluctantly. “I just- I am, too,” she admitted. Her eyes widened and her body went stiff. Dez blinked at her in surprise.

“Micah, that’s great! Why didn’t you-”

Micah’s chair shrieked as she suddenly stood and she left without a word. Dez watched her go and made to get up themself but Perpetua interjected with a soft, “Don’t.”

“But, Papa, she-”

“She needs space, Dez,” Perpetua said gently. “She just told us something very personal, and needs time to gather herself.”

Dez stared at the door that Micah had walked through before falling back into their seat. Perpetua was disheartened to see tears in their eyes.

“What if I fucked up, Papa?” They whispered. “What if… what if she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore?”

“Then,” Perpetua whispered back. “At least you had her as a friend for the time that you did. But trust me, she’ll come back around. She just needs time and space to think.”

Dez stared at their oatmeal for a few moments then nodded. Perpetua glanced at the large clock that overlooked the hall and saw it was almost seven. He motioned to their food.

“Make sure to eat as much as you can. And try not to worry about Micah, I’ll make sure to speak with her again later this week.” He wished he could do more for her, but he also knew that the more he stepped in, the more she would isolate herself. He would just have to trust in the other Clergy members and in Dez to look after her.

They nodded again and began nibbling at a strawberry. Perpetua ate a few more bites of toast before standing.

“Have a good day, Dez,” he said to them with a smile that felt strained. “And remember to enjoy choir practice.”

“I will, Papa,” Dez replied, their mood lightening a little at the reminder.

With a nod to one another Perpetua headed to his office to begin today’s work. Once he arrived he went over to his record player and selected one of his favorite albums. It was very expensive, this machine. The Psaltarians gave it to him as a welcoming gift. He needed something to take his mind off of this morning’s conversation, and the way it had scraped against the awful time of his life that surrounded Father DeFroque.

However, the longer he sat at his desk and tried to work, the less his mind wanted to cooperate with him. Memories of when he had first seen Father DeFroque, his body illuminated by light during his sermon as a guest from the church across town. The wink he sent Perpetua’s way when he had placed that flavorless wafer on his tongue, the heat that had spread through him in response, made him want to throw himself into the Confessional booth and ask God for forgiveness for being more of a disgrace than he already was.

He hadn’t realized he was staring into nothing until a knock at his door made him blink slowly. “Come in,” he called softly.

Copia walked in with a concerned expression.

“Hey, Perpetua,” Copia said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Did you- uh- forget about us meeting later today? I figured you’d be in the practice chapel by now.”

Perpetua blinked a few times and stared at the time on the corner of his computer. Reality crashed hard as he realized he had been staring off into space for hours. He jumped up from his desk as though he had seen a snake.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, Frater, I lost track of time, but I can meet you there in about ten minutes. I just need to-”

Copia began frantically waving his hands with alarm. “No, no, it’s fine if you’re busy, Perpetua, just calm down-”

But Perpetua was anything but calm. His identity was somehow known around the Ministry without his consent. Micah was who knew where doing who knew what, Father was still haunting his brain-

“Who’s Father?” Copia asked.

Perpetua froze, his hand outstretched to grab his notebook. Had he been talking out loud?

When he didn’t answer, Copia walked forward slowly. “Perpetua,” he inquired softly. “Who’s Father?”

Perpetua squeezed his eyes shut. “Nobody, Frater, he’s nobody anymore.”

“‘Copia,’ remember?” Copia reminded him. “Call me Copia, Perpetua. We’re equals, brothers, let’s address each other as such, yeah?”

Perpetua opened his eyes. Copia was standing in front of his desk, his gaze worried.

“Father Jim DeFroque,” Perpetua croaked. “He… he groomed me, and had me do awful things when I was younger.” The moment Perpetua responded, Copia’s face was already falling, pity clear in his eyes.

Perpetua hated it.

He turned around and shook his head violently. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he spat out. “He’s gone, it was years ago, I should be over it by now.”

“Perpetua, did something happen this morning?” Copia asked. Perpetua heard him take a few steps around his desk. “You.. you can talk to me-”

“Can I?” Perpetua whirled around, his face hot. “Can I, Copia? You wanted nothing to do with me for months, no matter what I did, no matter how many times I reached out to you. You know what you reminded me of?” Perpetua laughed heartlessly. “My childhood bullies. I was a fucking weirdo growing up and they made sure I knew it. I had no friends, no family, all my life, so of course, when a handsome priest told me I was beautiful, told me that I was different, I fell in love with him. Like an idiot!”

He was shouting now. His body burned; his throat, his eyes, his face.

“My life was a fucking shitshow! Barely anything achieved, barely anything to live for. You know what I was planning to do before Mrs. Psaltarian arrived at my door and told me I was to inherit all this?” When Copia opened his mouth to respond, Perpetua barreled forward.

“I was going to kill myself, Copia. All I was at that point was just the weird, quiet, choir teacher that kids would tease or whisper rumors about. Nobody gave a fuck about me, not the other parishoners, especially not the pastors or priest. I was nothing, and when I see this?” He pointed at his left eye. “It just reminds me that compared to you, compared to our brothers, I still am.”

“Don’t fucking say that!”

Copia’s voice thundered against the rushing in Perpetua’s ears, piercing through it all and echoing in his head.

“You’re better than we were, Perpetua,” Copia insisted, his voice angry and desperate. “You’ve experienced the real world, not the sheltered life of the Ministry like we did. You can understand our people in ways we never could, and they know that. And that matters. We were so angry at each other, me and the Papas at our parents, Nihil and Sister at each other. But you?” Copia shook his head in wonder. “Despite it all, you’re not angry, or full of spite. You’re kind, and thoughtful, and you look out for others. Maybe… maybe our mother knew that when the time came, we would need to see that in our leader, and not another angry Emeritus as Papa.”

Copia snapped his mouth shut, those last words ringing in the room. The only noise was the sound of Perpetua’s record scratching. He walked over and carefully moved the needle aside. He would have to look over the vinyl to make sure it wasn’t too damaged, but who knew how long it had been scratching. He rubbed a hand over his mask, dully surprised that he hadn’t cried at all during that.

“Thank you, Copia,” he whispered.

A sniffle. Perpetua turned and saw Copia had turned away and was dabbing at his eyes.

“We’ve got to stop doing this,” Copia said, his voice thick. “No more trauma dumping, no more yelling at each other. I’m forty-three years old, my heart can’t take it.”

“Well,” Perpetua responded tiredly. “I think we’ve covered all the bases now.”

Lucifer below, he was exhausted. He groaned and ran a hand over his hair. “Let’s just head over to the chapel so that I can at least show you how the ghouls are doing.”

Copia looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe convince Perpetua that they should leave it off for tomorrow or to mention what else Perpetua had spewed out before his meltdown. But he nodded instead and the two quietly left the office.

Perpetua was surprised that nobody had come to see what the commotion was. He knew that the two of them had been loud in their grievances, but the hallway was empty.

“I was being serious,” Copia said as they descended a flight of stairs.

“Hm?”

Copia raised his pinky finger to him. “Promise me that we won’t have another emotional talk like that for at least a month. It’s taking years of my life away.”

Perpetua snorted. “We’re the same age.” But he took Copia’s pinky with his own and squeezed.

“And I bet I was born first. I’m taller, yes? That makes me older.”

“That’s not how it works. And I’m the taller twin,” Perpetua replied, but he allowed Copia to continue talking.

He remained quiet as Copia filled the silence, listening to Copia ponder how the two of them could figure out who was born first to see who was older. When they passed Siblings and Clergy members, Copia took the brunt of their greetings, allowing Perpetua to not waste what little energy he had left.

They didn’t notice anything wrong in the chapel until they were both in front of the door.

Perpetua raised a hand to silence his brother. Obviously, this did the opposite.

“Hey-”

“Shh!” Perpetua listened intently for a moment. “It’s quiet.”

“And?”

Perpetua didn’t answer. Instead, he hurriedly entered the practice room and froze at what he saw.

Copia was right at his heels, nearly bumping into his shoulder in shocked confusion.

The practice room was empty.

The ghouls were gone.

Chapter 7: Strike the death knell

Notes:

A new day, a new chapter :) And more OC's!! Also, I updated the tags and put some of my headcanons of Perpetua and Copia in the end notes on chapter 1, I feel like my story is only making sense to me cuz of my own headcanons lmao

I hope you're all enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it, it's been a little cathartic for me I won't lie

I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr :)

This is it, Perpetua thought numbly. Copia and I just made up and I already fucked it up, he’s gonna leave-

“Alright, okay, fuck.”

Perpetua winced as Copia grabbed a stool and set it down in the center of the room. He pointed at it and said, “Sit.”

“Copia-“ Perpetua began, nervous.

“I’m giving you your first Ghouls 101 lesson,” Copia explained, still pointing at the stool. “It’s how to pinpoint exactly where they are.”

Oh.

Perpetua slowly sat down.

“Close your eyes and try to clear your head as much as possible. I know it’s hard considering what just happened, but try your best.”

He shut his eyes and nodded. He didn’t know how he could erase his thoughts from his mind, but he was able to at least focus on gripping the seat of the stool in his hands, letting the solid wood ground him.

“Good. When you’re practicing with them, do you notice how it feels like something’s hooked onto your brain and tugging?” He nodded again. “That’s going to happen. Think about one of the ghouls. Think about your interactions with it, the instrument it plays.”

Perpetua decided to think about Primo as he had been the one whom he relied on most when it came to wrangling the other two. He figured it was because he was the oldest, the most experienced out of the three. It was an effort to isolate the moments where he studied Primo during practice as his brain wanted to wander off. He imagined the black and white bass that Primo would carefully tune and prepare before each session.

A familiar tug began at his head, albeit faded. Perpetua focused on it, his nose scrunching at the sensation.

“Did you find it?” Copia asked.

Perpetua nodded, not wanting to break his concentration.

“Imagine you’re pulling at it to find the source, where it begins.”

Perpetua imagined he was wrapping his hands around that string and pulling it towards him. Suddenly, the impression of flowers, sunlight, a child laughing, wind brushing his face filled his mind.

“The garden,” Perpetua realized. He blinked his eyes open. “Primo is in the garden.”

A sad look passed over Copia’s face. “That was his favorite hobby when he was alive.”

“Oh. I didn’t…” Perpetua trailed off, unsure of what to say.

But Copia was already shaking his head and motioning for him to follow him. “Let’s go see what kind of trouble he’s up to, hm?”

They quickly made their way to the garden, Copia showing Perpetua a few hidden passages to make sure they were uninterrupted. They entered a small office, took the door out, then walked down the hallway to a pair of large double doors that Copia burst out of.

Sunlight made Perpetua squint for a moment before his eyes adjusted. He had been in the garden a few times but had never taken a proper walk in it.

It was settled in another courtyard, this one much larger than the one near his apartment. A path began at their feet and wound its way through, taking a scenic route along bushes and pretty flowers.

Perpetua followed Copia along it, nearly missing him disappear off the path as he suddenly ducked behind a bush. He hurried to follow, watching Copia’s dark jacket as they were enveloped in greenery, the sunlight hot on his head and shoulders. One of the reasons why he didn’t like being out in the sun was because of his pale skin, but also the awful tan line he got on his face from his mask.

Voices slowly reached their ears, and Copia muttered a curse before stopping. He pointed through a gap in the shrub before them, and Perpetua saw Primo sitting at the base of a tree, a child across from him. On a bench next to them were two men holding hands as they watched the ghoul and the child.

“This was Primo’s favorite spot,” Copia hissed to him. “Nobody would come here as he liked to nap under that tree, but I guess after he died, it became free use for whoever wanted to visit.”

Perpetua watched as Primo held a hand out and the little boy tried to fit a bracelet of flowers around his wrist but it was too small.

“I’ll talk to Damien and Christian on the bench,” Copia whispered to him. “You try to see what’s up with that ghoul.”

Before Perpetua could respond, Copia was taking a few steps to the side and walking through a larger gap in the bushes, loudly greeting the two men. Perpetua quickly followed, hoping Copia wouldn’t make a huge scene to explain why they were here.

“Ah, it’s good to see you two!” Copia exclaimed, approaching the men with a smile. “How was the honeymoon? I hope you two enjoyed the break from all of us here at the Clergy and celebrated your marriage with gusto.” He winked.

Perpetua nearly slapped a palm on his face in exasperation, but the two men laughed, obviously used to Copia’s awkward charm.

“It was well, thanks to your donation, Frater,” said one of the men with a large smile. He was a big man, his hand on his husband’s shoulder almost the size of Perpetua’s face. Tattoos were barely seen through the thick hair on his arms, his beard neatly braided, and his shoulder-length hair greased back. “And trust me, you don’t wanna know what we got up to in that suite.”

The man under his arm swatted at him but he was fighting back a smile. “Christian!” He hissed. While smaller than his husband he was still big but in an athletic way, his arms sculpted and shoulders broad. His skin was dark and shining beautifully in the sunlight, with golden piercings in his ears sparkling. “Sorry, Frater, you know how he is.”

But Copia was laughing. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ve heard worse, trust me.” He motioned at Perpetua. “Damien, Christian, as you know, this is Papa Perpetua, my brother. We were… well, we were trying to find this ghoul right here, actually.”

“It’s good to meet you two,” Perpetua said with a small smile.

Christian held a hand out to him, and Perpetua shook it, a little confused by the gesture but happy to oblige.

“Sorry,” Christian said as he released him. “Old habits die hard. It’s good to meet you, Papa.”

“It’s fine,” Perpetua said. He glanced at Primo, who was watching the little boy make a pile of flower rings. “I should get my ghoul here so that we can be on our way. We’re supposed to be rehearsing right now.”

Damien stepped out of Christian’s grasp. “Let me help, Papa. Rico can get pretty upset when meeting new people.”

Perpetua watched as Damien stooped down and whispered something to Rico, then pointed at him. Rico looked up and met Perpetua’s gaze, who smiled softly and waved. Rico turned and buried his face into his father’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around his neck. Damien laughed softly but picked him up.

“Sorry, Papa,” he said to him as he rocked the child back and forth. “But I don’t think Rico is up to any visitors today.”

“That’s quite alright,” Perpetua responded. “Just tell him that I think his flower jewelry is very beautiful, and if he could make one for me sometime, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Did you hear that, Rico? Papa wants a flower bracelet to wear during Mass,” Damien said into Rico’s hair. The boy nodded and clutched his father tighter. Damien gave Perpetua an apologetic smile and went over to his husband.

As Damien joined Christian and Copia, Perpetua stepped over to Primo. He wasn’t sure where to go from here, so he decided to sit down across from the ghoul. He made sure that the three men were still occupied with one another before he closed his eyes and did the same exercise as before.

The moment he envisioned Primo he felt that familiar tug, this time feeling as though somehow was grabbing hold of him and pulling him forward. He almost opened his eyes with how real it felt but kept them closed.

He let the sensation flood his mind and followed the source like a spider along its web, crawling to Primo until-

Help. Help me.

Perpetua jerked back, his eyes flying open. Primo was sitting the same as he was before, his hands in his lap and patiently watching Perpetua.

Copia was waving goodbye to the family as they made their way through the bushes, but when he saw the frenzied look on Perpetua’s face, he hurried over.

“What? Did the ghoul do something to you?”

Perpetua shook his head. “I… I did the same exercise from before, and I could hear him. He - he said, ‘Help me.’” He looked up at his brother, anxiety pulsing through him. “What does he mean, Copia?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Copia stammered. He was staring at Primo, his face pale despite the warm afternoon. “Let’s just get him to the practice room and find the other two, then we’ll decide what to do. Just don’t try to communicate with them for now, yeah?”

Perpetua gave a shaky nod. He told Primo to stand and the ghoul did so, then it followed Copia and Perpetua out of the bushes and to the chapel.

Once there, they deposited the ghoul by its bass. As much as it made Perpetua’s skin crawl, he commanded the ghoul to stay, then he quickly located the other two.

“Terzo is in another chapel. I think it’s the one where we hold special ceremonies, like when I became Papa. And Secondo is… at the graveyard?” He swallowed. The implications of Secondo being at such a dismal place made his stomach twist.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Copia said. “I’ll get Ter- the ghoulette in the chapel, you get the one at the graveyard.”

Perpetua nodded in agreement.

“And remember,” Copia continued sternly. “Do not try to communicate with it. I don’t know much about ghouls, but I do know that the magic used to bring them to our realm is dangerous.”

“Copia,” Perpetua said just before the man left. He turned with a raised eyebrow. “Have you… have you ever been able to communicate with your ghouls?”

Copia looked away. “If I’m being honest, Perpetua,” he said softly. “I didn’t know it was possible.” And then he was out the door, leaving Perpetua to wonder where the hell he went wrong with the ghouls.

Chapter 8: Thus we focus on your death

Notes:

Wow this fic has gotten incredibly complicated... whoops.... I hope it's making sense so far

Here's a big chapter with lots going on to further complicate it yippee!! Also Terzo's ghoulette will go by he/him pronouns cuz I'm too far in to change it and so will the other ghouls ;-;

Also, my headcanon is that the Emerituses weren't born with the white eye, but instead are given it at a young age (like around 15-16 years old) to set them apart from the rest of the Clergy. They begin their training as a Cardinal when they're younger, like in their 20s, and once completed they're ready to become Papa!

For Copia, Sister had to do a lot of buttering up Nihil to let her do this, and the other three Papas were skeptical (but they went along with it as Secondo didn't care about the papacy once it was out of his hands and Primo was an older man who had a "I'm retired" mindset about it all, but they still had their suspicions) and Terzo was more than happy to have an assistant as diligent as Copia. Only Sister knew that only an Emeritus could take the white eye as the others figured that she was just making another change in the Clergy like she had been doing for years.

I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr!! And thank you for the kudos and comments :))

Excitement, pride, relief, and anticipation flooded Copia’s body as he stood in front of Sister with the Emerituses next to them. Today, he would become a Cardinal. His hard work over the past four years had finally paid off; countless sleepless nights, hours volunteering, and stuffing his mind with essays and flashcards were behind him. Sister had chosen him to be the right-hand man of the newest Papa, Terzo, and he would continue to do so for any subsequent Papa. To make it official, he would receive the white eye that would mark him as a close member of the Emeritus lineage, the first to receive such a blessing. For what reasons, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to have such a prestigious title.

Sister read out the proper rites before dipping a finger in a bowl of… blood? Copia frowned slightly but didn’t say anything. He tilted his head down, expecting her to wipe it on his forehead, just like in the movies.

Instead, she promptly jabbed her sharp nail into Copia’s left eye.

The pain was unreal, an agony that reached every cell in his body. He felt as though his eye had been skewered and burned from the inside out, and when he finally cracked it open, the first thing he saw was Terzo - Papa, is what Copia would have to address him as from now on - smiling down at him with an outstretched hand. He had fallen to his knees the moment it had happened, the pain dizzying.

“Fucking hurts like hell, right?” He asked Copia with a laugh. “Try getting it done when you’re just a kid. That was awful, eh, Secondo?”

Copia didn’t catch Secondo’s reply as he took Papa’s hand and let him pull him to his feet. When Sister handed him a mirror with an unimpressed look, he took it with shaky hands and peered into his reflection.

He was expecting to see his eye swollen out of its socket, red and angry. But it looked normal, other than the fact that it was white with a black center.

“Congratulations, Cardinal,” Primo croaked. “And may Satan bless you as you deal with Terzo’s perfectionism as his assistant.”

Copia heard Papa make a noise of protest as he turned to argue with Primo, Secondo rolling his eyes at them. Nihil was already leaving, lugging his oxygen tank behind him.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he turned to see Sister looking at him with a smile. It was a complicated thing, that smile. Warm with affection but laced with satisfaction, as though his achievement was an accomplishment on her part, and not his.

And it was. From here on out, his success was more hers than it ever was his.

—

It’s been many years since Copia entered this chapel.

It was small and out of the way, one of the first to be built generations ago. Whenever Copia envisioned this room in his mind he always imagined it larger, the ceiling vaulted, the pews taller, the altar massive.

But it was just another chapel in the grandeur of the Ministry.

He slowly entered the quiet room, his gaze immediately falling to the lone ghoulette sitting at the foremost pew. Its head was bowed, its hands clasped in its lap.

With mindful steps, he made his way down the aisle, wincing at the loud squeal of a board under his foot. The ghoulette didn't react, not even when Copia sat behind it and to its left.

The moment he sat down, he felt incredibly dumb. He should’ve just grabbed the ghoulette and hauled it out of here. Instead, he murmured into the silence, “Are you in there, Terzo?”

The ghoulette remained still, not moving an inch. It wasn’t even breathing, something that

Copia never noticed until now. Another sign that these ghouls were abnormal; the rest of the ghouls breathed like humans.

“I…” he sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, careful not to smear his paint. “I’m sorry. For not standing up for you three after what happened. I just… when I realized I had the chance to be Papa, I had to take it, and I was scared that disagreeing with Sister in any way would’ve caused me to lose that opportunity. But if the cost of becoming Papa was you three dying…” he faltered. The words that were stuck on his lips made him feel lightheaded, but he forced them out.

“I’m scared that it was still worth it,” he whispered.

His words echoed around them before they finally seeped into the stone walls of the chapel. Oh, how small he felt in that moment, admitting the one thought that plagued him at night, that whispered into his ear when he was Papa. The ghouls’ existence was a constant reminder of the burning cowardice that used to flare up in Copia when he thought about how he had failed his brothers. It was a burden that he would always endure, something he would always seek forgiveness for, but could never justify in receiving.

He almost laughed. Suddenly, he understood Jesus and that damn cross just a little more.

In front of him, the ghoulette silently lifted its hands and began tapping a rhythm out on the wood next to it.

It was faintly familiar, a rhythm that Copia knew he had heard somewhere but couldn’t place when or where. The tapping brought forth the image of Terzo in his mind, the many moments where the man would hum and tap to a song only he could hear. He leaned forward and watched the ghoulette’s hands tap the same rhythm again once it was finished. Lucifer below, where had he heard that before? He knew it was a song that he had heard Terzo perform at some point, but what song was it?

Unsettled, he cleared his throat. “How about we head back to the practice chapel, eh? We can-“

The ghoulette huffed as though frustrated and stood, the movement inhumanely quick. Copia jumped in his seat and had to scramble to follow the ghoulette out of the chapel.

“No, eh, no hard feelings, right?” He asked as he caught up to it. The ghoulette, of course, didn’t say a word in return.

However, as soon as the two were out in the hallway, a loud “Copia!” made him turn.

Mr. Psaltarian was stalking down the hallway, frustration clear in his face.

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked sharply. Copia bit back a groan. He just couldn’t catch a break today.

“Hello, Mr. Psaltarian,” he said, trying to mask the exasperation in his tone but doing a poor job at it. “I’m busy helping-“

“Never mind what you’re doing,” the older man cut him off with a wave. “Marika’s been trying to get a hold of you for the past hour, and here you are, skimping on your duties again.” He shook his head with a tsk that grated against Copia’s ears like squealing metal.

“There was an emergency with Perpetua’s ghouls, and he asked for my help,” Copia ground out. Normally he wouldn’t take this tone with his former guardian but after last night’s emotional meltdown and Perpetua’s heart wrenching outburst he was quickly running out of fucks to give.

Mr. Psaltarian didn’t even spare a glance at the ghoulette and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, so it’s Perpetua, now, is it? What happened to V?”

Leather creaked in Copia’s palms as he squeezed his fists together. Deciding to be the bigger man for once, he ignored the jab. “I’m sorry, but I have to get Perpetua’s ghoulette back to him so that he can rehearse. I’ll make sure to talk to Aunt Marika after I’m done helping him.”

Mr. Psaltarian stared at him, his gaze hard and edged with disappointment. Copia felt that familiar dredge of insignificance at the sight, the way it slipped into his body and made him feel worthless. What was the point of being Papa, of becoming Frater Imperator, if the man who raised him still looked down his nose at him? He didn’t open his mouth in fear that his indiscretions in the man’s eyes would make him falter, further humiliating himself.

Finally, Mr. Psaltarian sighed and waved a hand to dismiss him. “Don’t make Perpetua’s job harder than it has to be, Copia.”

Oh, Copia thought with more venom than he’d care to admit. Since when was he “Perpetua,” huh? He simply nodded and motioned for the ghoulette to follow him as he turned on his heel and continued on their way to the chapel.

His mood drastically decreased, Copia took a moment to calm himself before entering the chapel with the ghoulette in tow. He saw that Perpetua hadn’t arrived yet and was grateful for it. That conversation with Mr. Psaltarian had reawakened some of the spite he had thought he had gotten over after last night, and he felt a good sense of shame over it. He didn’t want to continue to blame Perpetua for his inadequacies or for how others treated him over it, but it was so much easier than reevaluating his lack of achievements as Papa.

With a sigh, he sagged against the wall and waited for his brother to return, idly watching the ghoulette as it turned on the keyboard and messed with the settings. He waited for it to begin playing that rhythm it showed him in the chapel, but when it became clear that it had no intention of doing so he grumbled and crossed his arms. It was probably a song from the Popestar EP or something.

He closed his eyes and listened to the ghoulette play a different song, the notes easing some of the tension in his body. This one he knew was Perpetua’s, the ‘80s synth matching the style of the song he had heard him play weeks ago. Copia let the music sweep over him, his thoughts straying to the ghoulette and how nimbly it had tapped out that rhythm in the chapel.

I’m here. I’m still here, please, help me-

Copia stumbled from the wall as though he had been pushed.

That was Terzos’s fucking voice.

His gaze quickly found the ghoulette, who was growling and scratching at its head. Copia didn’t know what to do, and so he stood and watched as the ghoulette struggled.

After a short time, the ghoulette- Terzo- slowly stopped twitching and stood in place, his gaze fixed on a far point of the wall. Copia stood in place, not daring to move in case Terzo’s attention focused on him and caused him to freak out again.

His body was as tight as a wire. Slowly, moving inch by inch, he took small steps to the back of the room to put a few pews between him and Terzo, then anxiously waited for Perpetua to return.

—

Perpetua weaved around tombstones and burials, taking extra care to make his steps delicate whenever they neared a grave. One of the few principles that had carried over from his days as Catholic was his unwavering respect for the dead.

This particular cemetery held all the staff who had passed away during their time serving Lucifer and the Ministry. There was also a portion reserved for those who didn’t have a family to be buried with and so had been given the proper burial here. As Perpetua walked toward the back of the cemetery, he saw what drew Secondo to this place

There was a large crypt, the beautiful white marble standing out amongst the normal headstones. It was the Emeritus family grave, where all the past Papas were buried.

The door was cracked open, and Perpetua carefully swung it open to an empty room with a set of stairs descending into darkness.

“Are you fucking serious?” He whispered, his nose wrinkling at the stale air. This was like the beginning of a horror movie.

As he stepped into the crypt, he realized he had no flashlight to guide his way. His cell phone was still in his room, something he had used less and less since he became Papa. He couldn’t remember the last time he had charged it, it had been that long since he had it in his hands.

After looking around, he saw that there was a candle in the corner with a box of matches. Luckily, the box was still dry, and he pocketed them after lighting the candle. He didn’t want to spend any more time than needed in this dreary place, and so he immediately began walking down the stairs the second the candle was lit.

He entered a large room, so large that his small pocket of light didn’t reach the walls. He took a moment to listen for any noise, his body tense. But nothing welcomed him, and so he began a cautious look around.

There were pillars of stone every few steps, and nestled between them was a tomb. Many were cracked and dusty, so Perpetua didn’t spare them another glance. His footsteps echoed, and every time he stepped on something that crunched, he would flinch and look down. He always expected a skull or bone, and there was once, but he was able to discern it as the long-eroded corpse of a poor mouse. Other than that, it was a leaf or natural debris.

The silence made his ears ring, and he almost wanted to speak to fill the space. It felt as though he had been walking for half an hour, but he knew it was probably only a few minutes.

A shuffle to his right made him squeak. He barely spared a thought to place a hand around the candle to shield it as he whirled around.

The small bubble of light barely fell on the form of Secondo, who was in a small room that Perpetua nearly walked past. He could barely see the ghoul but he could tell he was moving his arm over the lid of a tomb.

“Secondo?” Perpetua asked softly, then bit his lip in annoyance on his part. Why he expected a response from the ghoul now, he didn’t know. Before he stepped into the small room, he glanced around and saw a plaque next to the doorway that gleamed gold in the candlelight.

The final resting place of the Emerituses.

With trepidation, he entered the room. He extended the light out around him and counted three tombs. One was parallel to the wall to his left, one flush against the wall in front of him, and the third was placed against the wall to his right. As he passed them and shone the light closer, he saw that they each had a plaque that read the three previous Papas' names, date of birth, and the day of their passing. He swallowed hard when he saw that all three of them had the same death date.

When he stepped next to Secondo, he saw that the ghoul was at its tomb, where its body was supposed to be at rest. It was rubbing its gloved hand over the tomb lid over and over as though dusting it off. Perpetua felt a shiver of fear run down his back at the morbid gesture, but as he peered closer, he realized that the ghoul was trying to reveal something.

The words saecula saeculorum had been carved into the lid, and it looked recent. The letters were still sharp and precise, not yet dulled by time. As though Secondo knew that Perpetua had read the words, it turned and went to the tomb to their right and began the same procedure.

Perpetua followed it and, now that he knew what to look for, easily found the words under the layer of dust that covered the lid of Terzo’s tomb. He turned and quickly made his way to Primo’s tomb. Secondo had already cleared the dust from this one. He ran a hand over the same words that had been carved into it. Even through his gloves, he could feel the etching in the concrete, how deep it went into the stone.

All three tombs of the Emeritus sons had been carved with words that Perpetua, using his knowledge of Latin that he had been taught as a child, knew meant something along the lines of “forever and ever.”

Who had done this? Why would someone desecrate the tombs of some of the most important men in the Ministry? Did the phrase allude to how the Emerituses would always live on in the form of how their bodies were showcased on tour? Most likely, Perpetua figured with a shudder, it had to do with how the three men were trapped in the bodies of ghouls, their lives somehow extended by an unknown force.

Hiss.

Perpetua looked down and saw a snake slithering over his shoe. It was small and green, its head barely the size of a walnut. But it still caused Perpetua to yelp and jump back in alarm. The candle in his hand went out, enveloping them in darkness. He scrambled to find the matches in his pockets and fumbled with them until he lit the candle.

He looked up and found that Secondo had picked up the snake and was allowing it to roam up its arm. Perpetua watched, a little horrified, as the snake tried to get under its tophat. Not knowing what else to do, he stood still as Secondo gently picked up the snake and set it on the ground. It slithered away into the darkness, a soft hiss fading with it.

“That was kind of you,” Perpetua said weakly. Oh, how he hated snakes. They reminded him of the times when the kids at the orphanage would leave them, dead or alive, in his shoes or under his pillow.

Secondo, of course, didn’t reply. Instead, it turned on its heel and walked out of the room. Perpetua, put off by the display with the snake and the abrupt departure, quickly followed. He didn’t want to be left alone in such an eerie place for a second longer.

The ghoul led the way out of the crypt, and Perpetua placed the candle and matches back where he had found them. Once they were outside, he shut the door and breathed in the fresh air. He squinted as he followed Secondo through the graveyard, wincing whenever the ghoul stepped a little too close to a grave.

It was a quick trip back to the practice chapel. He was trying to figure out how to explain to Copia what they had discovered at the crypt, but when he opened the door and saw his brother pacing amongst the pews, he immediately set the thought aside.

At the sound of the door closing, Copia looked up with wide eyes. He nearly tripped in his haste to get to Perpetua and grabbed his arm in a tight grip.

“I heard him, Perpetua,” Copia hissed.

He frowned. “Heard who?”

“Terzo. He was playing your song, the one I heard weeks ago, and I somehow connected to him and- oh, Sathanas, he said ‘I’m here, I’m still here, please help me-’“ Copia cut himself off with a pained noise and buried his head into his hands. “Fuck! Fucking fuck!”

Perpetua felt himself grow pale. “Did anything else happen?”

“He started growling and twitching, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I just stood there and he eventually calmed down.“ He pointed at Terzo, who was staring at the wall, his hands resting on the keyboard. “He’s been like that since.” Copia dropped his head back in his hands and muttered something that Perpetua couldn’t make out.

“He reacted to you being in his head just like he does when we play your songs,” Perpetua realized.

Before Perpetua could say more, Copia was sucking in a deep breath and then letting it out with a shudder. He lifted his head, and Perpetua saw that the fear had been buried deep and was replaced with… not emptiness, but something close to it.

“I think you should try Nihil’s album as well,” Copia said to him, his voice brisk. Perpetua blinked in confusion at the sudden topic change but allowed his brother to continue.

“You’ve tried the songs from the other Papas, yes? Then see how they react to some ‘70s bullshit. Also, I can’t stick around; Mr. Psaltarian cornered me in the hallway and told me that Aunt Marika has been looking for me for the past few hours.”

Perpetua raised an eyebrow at Copia’s language but didn’t argue. His concern grew into worry at how quickly Copia wanted to move away from what happened. “Alright,” he replied slowly. “Are you… okay?”

Copia nodded and looked around the room for something. Perpetua, feeling powerless but also not wanting to see that helpless look in Copia’s eyes again, let his brother try to regain some control in their situation. Copia walked over to a shelf that held a cup of utensils, and sheets of paper, and scribbled something. Perpetua heard him mutter something about getting proper cell phones instead of relying on pen and paper to communicate.

“What about walkie-talkies?” He suggested, and then felt embarrassed for doing so. His brain was too frazzled to filter what he wanted to say.

Copia handed him the paper with a considering look. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “That might work, actually. It’s certainly easier to hide on the budget than an expensive phone. I’ll look into it.” He waved at the paper. “This is the name and office of the head of the ghoul department. Get in touch with it sometime soon and see what you can find out. Oh, and before I forget, make sure to tell that ghoul specialist that Aunt Marika said that she had something to do with the ghouls as a ‘last request from our mother.’” He said that last sentence with finger quotations.

“What- and you didn’t tell me until now?” Perpetua asked in surprised frustration. This was just another piece to add to the puzzle that was growing more complex by the moment. “We should’ve gone to her first!”

Copia shrugged. “Trust me when I say she won’t tell us anything. We’re her nephews, yes, but the love she has for her sister isn’t going to budge one bit. If Sister told her not to talk about the ghouls, she won’t talk.”

“Sister? I thought Papa Nihil and Mrs. Psaltarian were related.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, they are. But Sister and Aunt Marika were incredibly close and referred to each other as sisters.” He waved a hand. “Semantics, or whatever.”

Semantics. Sure. “Before you leave,” he interjected quickly when Copia turned to do so. “I found Secondo at the Emeritus crypt, and he was at their tombs. And he was dusting off each lid to reveal the words saecula saeculorum. I think they mean-”

“Forever and ever,” Copia finished. His brows were furrowed, and he brought a thumb to his lip in thought. “You mean someone had gone down there and carved those words recently? Because I know for a fact that their tombs were unscathed when they were made all those years ago.”

“It looked like it, yeah,” Perpetua agreed. “Who do you think…”

Copia sighed and shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t know. I mean, who would do something like that here? The Papas were well-respected and didn’t have any enemies. And the words are a little familiar, but it’s just another Latin phrase in a Satanic church. Who knows where we’ve heard them.” He rubbed a hand over his head. “I’ll talk to Mr. Psaltarian about it and see if we can set up some security cameras around it, and then we’ll replace the lids. Fuck, this is becoming such a mess, man.”

“Do you think it has something to do with the three Papas being ghouls?” Perpetua asked, more to put the thought out there than anything.

“Maybe? It could be a delinquent lashing out, it could be something more nefarious, but it’s unfortunately low on my list of priorities, as shitty as it is to say.” He pointed at the paper in Perpetua’s hand. “This is going to be the best place to start. Let me know when you’re meeting that specialist, yeah?”

Perpetua agreed. As Copia left, he noticed how his brother kept his eyes low to the ground and didn’t look at the ghouls as the door shut behind him.

How to begin to make sense of it all was beyond Perpetua. The two of them hearing the voices of the dead, the ghouls beginning to wander to places that may or may not have clues to how they became ghouls, the Psaltarians somehow being involved… it was all too much. He almost missed the days when he was just a choir teacher for another church in a small town.

Almost.

He stood in the center of the room, the paper in his hand, and a headache beginning to brew. The ghouls stared at him, waiting for… something. With a grumble, he folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket, then went to find spare gloves for himself and Secondo, as he didn’t want the ghoul to handle an instrument with dusty hands. After that, he would at least try to do an hour of rehearsals to make something out of this entire situation.

It wasn’t until he was at the microphone that he saw the drummer ghoul had shown up at some point and deposited itself at the drums, waiting patiently for them to begin.

Chapter 9: Will you walk that line? My path serpentine

Notes:

TW: MENTIONS OF GROOMING

Yippee new chapter!! An incredibly long chapter. This one I've been working on for at least a week, it's a lot of lore and a new character is introduced! It used it/its pronouns cuz why the fuck not, it's my story lmao

Lore/headcanons are in the end notes if you would like to check them out! I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr!

After their expedition around the Ministry to locate the ghouls, Copia couldn’t help but be relieved that he could put off seeing them rehearse. That one afternoon had filled his quota of strange ghouls for a week, thank you very much.

The rest of that day had been spent being lugged around by Aunt Marika to fulfill tasks and see to issues that had been shoved aside in favor of Copia finding wayward ghouls. While the gesture made him feel a little incompetent as Frater, he couldn’t help but bask in the attention she gave him. And it was the perfect distraction from Terzo’s voice haunting him.

He and Aunt Marika used to be incredibly close when he was a child; she would spend many afternoons with him walking or playing in the courtyards, would help him with his lessons, and be there at his bedside when he was sick. But as he got older and became more prominent in the Ministry, she began to distance herself from him, for reasons he still didn’t know. By the time he began training as a Cardinal, he was just another Clergy member in her eyes, another follower of Lucifer and servant to the Emerituses. It was just another grievance he had long since buried. And finding out that she was his aunt was simply another boulder added to the ever-growing mountain that was his grief and anger.

The next day, he finally had some time at his desk to do some research on something that had been bugging him. He pulled up the search bar on his computer and typed “Father Jim DeFroque.”

The first results were news articles about the man’s disappearance. It seemed as though one day he was doing his duties at his church, and the next day he was gone. He never showed up to Mass that morning, and when his residence was searched, there was no sign of the man.

Copia had to do some digging on some online forums surrounding the church to find the news that really mattered.

Many people posted their personal accounts about DeFroque, how he had groomed them and then isolated them from their family and friends, or how he had blackmailed them into sexual favors. Copia’s stomach turned at the thought that one of these accounts could be Perpetua, that it was his story he was reading on some sketchy website that took him ages to find.

His own life seemed like luxury and bliss compared to what his brother had lived. He was always safe here at the Ministry and never had to worry about the greed that permeated the Catholic church. While he didn’t have his parents until he was in his forties, he at least had them for a short time, and he was surrounded by people who cared in some capacity for him. Perpetua had nothing his entire life, and when love and kindness were dangled in front of him like a trap, he took them without question.

No official investigation had ever been begun against DeFroque, as was the unfortunate common theme. The only justice that was delivered was his disappearance, something that still impacted the community twenty years later. And even that wasn’t true justice, not really.

He tapped a finger on his desk, deep in thought. How someone like Perpetua didn’t succumb to the darkness that he had told Copia about a few days ago was beyond him. Copia was the type of man who needed something to drive him forward, something worthy not only to him but to others. He was a greedy man, he knew that. He yearned for attention and status, to always be on top. Maybe it came from being raised with the Emerituses always in sight, the regal way they held themselves, and the pride that seemed to be born into them, that made Copia hunger for more as he grew older. Some innate greed for a birthright that he yearned for.

Or maybe it was something more simple and pathetic: that the only time he received attention was when he did something right, something that made him valuable to other people. And so, when he was Papa, he had countless dazzled eyes watching him, screaming his name, and following his every move. That type of devotion was intoxicating and almost god-like. And that was taken away from him without him having a say, and he watched as it fell onto Perpetua like a crown taken from a slain monarch.

It was this train of thought that made him think about his first encounter with Perpetua. When he had stepped inside Copia’s makeshift office at the time, and met the eyes of his twin brother.

His first thought was that the two looked nothing alike. And then, he has her nose and lips. And then, that’s Nihil’s chin. And then, I can see myself in those eyes. And then, he has every part of us, he’s more like us than I would’ve thought. Oh, Lucifer, that’s my twin.

The realization had made him rigid and cold, his hands suddenly clenched. His greeting was short and clipped. He saw the disappointment in Perpetua’s face at that, and he had shoved away the guilt that creeped into him at the sight. This was the man that replaced him, that Sister had deemed worthy to bring out of the shadows and into the light that was the papacy. It was too much to consider, too tangled up to unravel, and so he had wallowed in self-pity and a vindictive self-righteousness for far too long.

And despite all of that, Perpetua still tried.

He learned on the spot how to be Papa, how to lead a following of people who worshipped the very opposite of what he was raised to believe. His experience in the real world greatly impacted those that he spoke with, even if he didn’t notice. He was softer, yes, and more gentle than any Papa before him, but it seemed to feed the Ministry in ways that Copia had never noticed were being starved of in the first place.

Their followers lost that sparkle of awe and adoration that had followed the last four Papas everywhere and were replaced by a grounded respect and admiration. Not to say the Papas were rude or acted in their pride (at least not on purpose), but there was a certain unspoken understanding that they were the Emerituses and to treat them as such. With Copia as Papa, that awe had dimmed somewhat, but it was still present as they had known how highly Sister regarded him, and how hard he worked for the Ministry.

To the Clergy, Perpetua was another man who was raised just as they were and had seen the world as what it was: angry, hateful, and ready to gnaw on those who bared their throat a little too much. Copia and the other three didn’t have that understanding, and to see it reflected in Perpetua made members of the Clergy open up in ways that no Papa had experienced before him.

And Copia wasn’t totally out of touch with the world; he knew how progressive the world was ever-so-slowly becoming when it came to gender and sexuality. It wasn’t lost on him how important, how historical, how life-changing it was to have a Papa like Perpetua. It was just another milestone that Perpetua achieved by being true to himself, a privilege that came with the freedom he experienced, a loss on Copia’s part as he strived to be what everyone else wanted from him.

Copia remembered that he had told Perpetua that their mother might have known that they would need a Papa like Perpetua one day. But was it worth it? Was it worth letting her son believe he was alone his entire life, to be cast as an outsider in every way, to the point where it nearly drove him to end his life? All of that, to prepare him for a role that he never knew existed, that there was a chance he would’ve declined anyway?

Life had been both kind and unkind to the two of them, and Copia hadn’t helped one bit with Perpetua’s transition as he became Papa. He had missed the opportunity to be a brother thrice over; he couldn’t miss this chance as well.

He opened up a new tab on his computer, took out his credit card, and placed an order for two walkie-talkies.

—

Perpetua didn’t know how he became the leader of a pack of ghouls.

It had been a week since that debacle with the ghouls, and in that time, he noticed that at least one of the ghouls always followed him around, from the moment he stepped out of his apartment to the moment when he went home for the day. The only ghoul that didn’t trail behind him was the drummer ghoul, as that one only appeared in the chapel for rehearsals before disappearing. It honestly reminded Perpetua of a teenager with how moody it seemed at times.

The other three would form a triangle around him: Terzo to his right, Primo to his left, and Secondo behind him. He had tried shaking them off by hiding in passageways or taking long bathroom breaks, but they always found him.

It was annoying at first, but he quickly got used to it when it was clear that they weren’t budging. And he found he liked the feeling of the three of them close by; it was comforting in an odd, twisted way.

He had kept an eye on other ghouls around the Ministry to compare their behavior with the three that followed him. The ghouls didn’t speak, and instead chittered or clicked like a bug when speaking to humans and to each other. Some had distinct personalities or favorite humans, others simply did their duties without needing to be told. Most had some magical abilities that they used around the Ministry, like basic healing spells, elemental abilities like fire or water, and even a few were able to travel via shadows. It was a very… enlightening experience, and it still made Perpetua’s jaw drop when he saw the ghouls in action. It was hard to believe that he was seeing casual displays of magic almost daily after living a lifetime without it.

Perpetua was currently sitting at Primo’s favorite spot in the garden with his three brothers lying out in the sun around him. He was scribbling in his notebook, idly writing the next song for his album. He was finally making some progress on it; though he hadn’t come up with a name, he had at least written three solid songs. “Lachryma, Satanized, and Umbra” were what he had so far. He was trying to think of a way to ask Copia for advice and some critiques on them, but he was nervous about having his brother listen to them. The insult to his music still smarted, but he knew the best person to get pointers from was the man who had gone through the process of making music twice.

He tapped his pen against his lower lip as he considered the lyrics he had written:

All the things that never gave you peace

Throwin’ those, but keepin’ these

All the rights that didn’t undo wrongs

Put it back where it belongs

He could hear it in his head, the cadence of the lyrics being driven by the drums, the keyboard between the words. How could he write the rest of the song around it?

A shuffle and an “oomf” made him look up.

Copia had stepped into the small clearing, his foot tangled in a wayward vine. In his hands was a cardboard box. Perpetua placed his pen into his notebook and set it to the side. He noticed the ghouls had shifted their attention to Copia as he waved and walked towards them.

The two hadn’t been able to talk very much since what had happened with the ghouls. They were both busy with their duties as Papa and Frater, and neither had found the time to look into how to save their current dilemma. Later today, Perpetua was going to meet with the ghoul specialist, and he was hoping he’d have something substantial to report back to Copia with.

“Eh- hello, everyone,” Copia greeted, rocking forward on the balls of his toes and nervously watching the ghouls. “I hope I’m not… interrupting anything?”

Perpetua shook his head. “Just getting some work done on the album.” Not wanting to elaborate, he set his notebook aside and motioned to the box. “What’s that?”

“Oh!” Copia walked over and sat down next to Perpetua, and handed it to him. “I got us something.”

He opened it and raised an eyebrow. Inside were two walkie-talkies, already set up to be used.

“I wasn’t serious…” Perpetua began, feeling his face warm out of embarrassment.

“Ah, but I was,” Copia insisted. He grabbed one of the devices and showed Perpetua how to use it. Then, he stood and vanished into the bushes, taking the box with him. Perpetua switched his on. Immediately, Copia’s crackly voice came through.

“Do you - heh- can you hear me? Over.”

A smile tugged at Perpetua’s lips. Despite himself, he felt a childlike whimsy at speaking to his brother through a walkie-talkie. “I do. How far away are you? Over.”

“I’m actually walking back to my office. I snuck out of a meeting with a few Cardinals and have to head back. Over.”

“You- why would you sneak out of a meeting? How did you sneak out of a meeting?”

“....”

“Copia.”

“You forgot to say ‘over.’”

Oh, for Lucifer’s sake. “Over.”

“Trust me, they didn’t notice. They were too busy arguing about finances and the budget, which is a hot mess like always. I just ‘sit there and look pretty’ as the kids say. Over.”

Perpetua shook his head good-naturedly. Copia had loosened up a lot around him to the point where he joked around with him, something that Perpetua sometimes struggled to do in return. He still wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with his sudden role as brother. He also had a deep-seated worry that Copia would find a fault in him or would be reminded that he had replaced him as Papa and would subsequently cut him off again.

He shoved that train of thought away and forced some cheer into his voice. “Hopefully, Mr. Psaltarian doesn’t catch wind of you sneaking out of a meeting. Over.”

There was a loud cracker that sounded like Copia blowing a raspberry. “Psalty can suck it for all I care. And it’s not like I’m skipping the entire meeting. Anyways, have you gotten in touch with that ghoul specialist yet? Over.”

Perpetua glanced at his wristwatch. “I’m about to head over there now, the - uh- person? Said that it would be available this afternoon. Over.”

“It can be a lot to handle,” Copia warned. “Sister and Nihil absolutely hated it. The specialist, I mean. But it’s the best in the business, so the two of them couldn’t afford to get rid of it. Just be straightforward and tell it everything about the ghouls, and hopefully it’ll know a thing or two about what we can do. Gotta go. Over.”

Perpetua turned off his walkie and stood. Luckily the device was small and he was able to hook it into his pocket. After pocketing his notebook in his jacket pocket, he clapped his hands to waken the ghouls who had dozed off after Copia left.

“Alright, everyone,” he said to them. “Let’s go see what we can make of your… well, everything.”

—

A few moments later, the four of them were in the basement of the Ministry. While Perpetua knew of the basement he had never actually ventured into it. In his head, he had imagined it to be like the dungeon of a great castle, with mossy stone hallways and wooden doors that were one shut away from falling apart.

Instead, it was long, carpeted hallways and sconces on the wall. The lights above them were warm and gave the appearance of a lodge instead of the Ministry. It had the same decor as any other part of the Ministry; beautiful gold trim along marble white halls and mysterious closed doors, vaulted ceilings that carried his footsteps as they walked to the ghouls specialist’s office.

At the end of the hallway was a large door. He took out the piece of paper that Copia had written down directions and a short description of the ghoul specialist.

Only refer to it as “it.” Anything else and it will throw a book at you (trust me on this). Its name is Bee, short for Beelzebub (don’t know, scared to ask). It’s worked at the Ministry since I’ve been a Cardinal and has worked with ghouls for who knows how long.

The door swung open, revealing a stout, surprisingly muscular individual. It had a tall, bright red mohawk, a tank top that had holes that looked as though they were burned with acid, and basketball shorts. And flip flops.

“Um,” Perpetua said. This was certainly the most unique first impression he ever had of someone. He had to tilt his head back slightly to look it in the eyes. “Hello… Bee.”

Bee stared down at him, then its gaze fixed on the ghouls behind him. It smiled, revealing crooked teeth. “Are these yours, Papa?”

Perpetua stepped to the side, not appreciating the possessiveness in Bee’s tone. “Not mine, no, as they’re-”

“Possessed.”

He stopped. “Excuse me?”

Bee stepped into its office and motioned for them to follow while it began walking to a large metal cabinet behind its desk. The room was surprisingly neat, with most of the walls filled with bookshelves or cabinets that were labeled. In the center of the room, drawn on the concrete floor (how it had gotten permission to get a concrete floor, Perpetua didn’t know), was a large diagram that he had a hard time looking at. Every time he focused on it, it felt as though he was staring at a moving picture.

He heard a click and turned to see that Bee had opened the metal cabinet, revealing… bazookas? They certainly looked like bazookas, but smaller. It grabbed one and checked it over. Perpetua stiffened when it grabbed a canister out of a drawer and popped it into the weapon.

“You ghouls are possessed,” it said again, turning and pointing the weapon at the four of them.

Perpetua jumped in front of it with alarm. “What are you going to do with that?! Why do you-”

Instead of replying, it shot the weapon at them.

Perpetua flinched hard at the huge puff of air that came out. It smelled… like orange popsicles?

He heard three thuds behind him and turned. The ghouls had fallen to the ground, like marionettes cut from strings.

Panic filled him. His voice was high and strained when he asked, “What did you do to them?”

Bee gently placed the weapon on its desk. “Stunned them so that I can read their arcane signatures.” It blinked. “Sorry. I should’ve asked if you wanted a different flavor from the Stunner. It doesn’t hurt humans, just ghouls.”

“I… what?” Perpetua shook his head. Who the hell was this person? “That’s not the problem. I didn’t know what you were about to do! And I thought that you killed them! And, again, why do you have a bazooka?”

“Ghouls can’t die, Papa,” Bee said absently as it knelt next to Terzo. It took out a pair of glasses that were hooked on the collar of its tank top and slipped them on. “They can only be banished back to their realm. And my bazooka is my business. Literally, I make them and sell them to other organizations like ours. But these…” it frowned and began moving its hand up and down over Terzo’s body, as though it was scrolling on a large screen. “These never came from the realm where ghouls live. The bodies did, that’s for sure, but what resides in them… wait.”

It looked up at Perpetua, its eyes huge within the frame of its glasses. “Word around the place was that there were four. Where’s the other one?”

Ah. Right. He glanced at the bazooka and cleared his throat. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It doesn’t follow me around like these three do, and it only shows up for rehearsals.”

“Do you know where it goes?”

Perpetua shook his head, trying and failing to not feel like a schoolyard kid being reprimanded. For whatever reason, he didn’t have a connection to the drummer ghoul at all. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to locate it. He figured that the drummer ghoul was normal, but even then, he still should be able to contact it in some way.

“Strange. I’ll have to track it down myself if you can’t. Well, these three aren’t real ghouls, but I’m assuming you already knew that.” When Perpetua made a noise of assent, it continued. “Other than the obvious, is there anything else that’s strange with these ghouls?”

“After they were first summoned, they would spend all their time at the practice chapel,” he explained. “But a few days ago, they were gone, and Frater and I found them around the Ministry in odd places.”

“How odd?”

Perpetua pointed at each ghoul as he spoke about it. “Primo was in the garden, in a clearing that was his favorite spot when he was alive. Terzo was in an old chapel that was used for special rituals and ceremonies, and Secondo was at their crypt. And he had somehow figured out that someone had carved a message into their tombstones.”

That seemed to pique Bee’s interest. “What message?”

Perpetua wasn’t sure if he was allowed to tell Bee what had been inscribed into the tombstone lid, as only he and Copia knew what had happened. He decided to just bite the bullet; he’d tell Bee just about anything at this point to figure out what was going on with the ghouls.

“Someone had scratched ‘saecula saeculorum’ into each of their tombstones.”

“Hm. ‘Forever and always’ or something, right? That’s weird as fuck. Anyways, what else?”

Perpetua didn’t know if he should ask if that type of behavior was normal for a ghoul or not, so he set it aside for now. “Um - Frater and I were both able to communicate with them. Specifically, Primo and Terzo.”

Bee’s head shot up. “What? How?”

Perpetua quickly explained the exercise that Copia had taught him and how he had heard Primo’s voice when he had done so. Then, he described how Copia accidentally did the same thing with Terzo. Bee frowned as he listened to Perpetua and began chewing on its lip.

“I’ve never heard of that happening before. My best guess is that because you have a blood connection to them, you can contact them. Have you tried again?” Perpetua shook his head. “When you have some free time, bring the ghouls back here and we’ll see how far that connection goes, yeah?”

“Sure, if it’s safe.”

Bee snorted. “Where's the fun in that, Papa? Anyways, back to business. I can see their magical signatures in the arcane, and boy, it’s messy. Whoever created them only knew the basics, and they didn’t care that it was a half-assed job. Do you know who summoned them?”

Perpetua tried to wrap his head around what Bee said. “As far as I know, only Sister Imperator and Mrs. Psaltarian had been involved in the making of these three. For the fourth, I think it was both of the Psaltarians.”

“Hm. Interesting. I’ve actually never spoken with either of the Psaltarians, can you believe it? Anyway, if you haven’t guessed, each ghoul here is possessed by the spirit of a former Papa. And it was complete the day that Sister Imperator died.”

“Wait, what was ‘completed?’” Perpetua interjected.

Bee scrolled some more. The movement was extremely odd, as to Perpetua it was staring into the air and reading nothing. “The ritual, duh. For something like this to work, it requires some serious magic and even more energy. That takes time to accumulate, and this ritual is old. Like, at least forty years old, which is insane for something like this. Sister had to have been cultivating it for a good chunk of her life.”

Perpetua felt himself grow pale. She… she had planned this for at least forty years? How do you even begin something like this, let alone plan it for the span of a lifetime? “I… That’s…”

The specialist leaned back on its heels to regard Perpetua. Perpetua ignored the urge to fidget as the two stared at each other.

“Papa,” it finally said. “You were never taught about magic, correct?”

“Eh- that’s correct. I didn’t know it existed until I came here.” He gave a short laugh. “I honestly still didn’t believe in it until I saw one of Frater’s ghouls shoot fire from its mouth.” He looked down at the ghouls at their feet. “Why can’t they do that, anyway?”

“Basically, they’re too young. Once they spend more time in our realm, they’ll develop whatever abilities they had in their realm. But who knows if that’ll happen to these three.” It poked hard at Terzo’s limp body, and Perpetua winced. “Anyways, here’s a short lesson.”

“The magic we practice at the Ministry is very boring; we only wield elements or spells that will allow us to, say, have unlimited electricity, water, or basic building materials. We also run some nature spells to keep up with our gardens and flora. You get the idea.” It stood and waved a hand at the sigil on the floor. “For ghoul summoning, we use alchemic magic at the Ministry. I have a very specific way of summoning, so it’s easy to recognize my work. And here’s the first issue: your three problem ghouls didn’t come from me; they came from Sister Imperator and Mrs. Psaltarian. The second issue?” It waved at the air in front of it. “The magic used is way out of my depth. It’s based on a mixture of necromancy and time-loopy bullshit that I barely know. It’s like looking at individual puzzle pieces. You get an idea, but not the full picture.”

Necoromany? Time-loopy magic? “What do we know for sure, then?” Perpetua asked weakly.

Bee rolled its eyes. “Sister Imperator began a ritual forty years ago to turn these three men into ghouls,” it explained slowly. Perpetua couldn’t help but be grateful for the slower pace, even if it was a little rude. “She made sure to feed this ritual with energy; from where or who, I’m not sure. The ritual was completed when she died, and after that, Mrs. Psaltarian was able to put the spirits of the three Papas into the bodies of ghouls. Honestly,” it conceded with an impressed look at the ghouls. “Even though it’s a messy spell, she did a good job. Kudos to her for handling a tough ritual like this for forty years.”

This was too much information, to the point where he felt as though his head was going to explode. He watched as Bee went back to doing… whatever it’s been doing to the ghouls. His hand found the walkie-talkie at his side. He didn’t trust himself to properly relay all of this information back to Copia. “I need to get my brother down here.”

Bee nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, sure, I understand.”

Perpetua hurried from the office. He fingered the walkie on and didn’t wait for Copia to acknowledge him.

“Copia, I need you to come down to Bee’s office. It’s important. Over.”

A beat, then a fizz and crackle. “What, like Bee is important, or-”

“Get your ass down here, now!” Perpetua hissed into the walkie.

“Shit, okay, over.”

Perpetua paced back and forth, his mind caught on what Bee told him. From what Bee told him, it sounded like their mother had known from the beginning that she would end the lives of the Emeritus brothers. Just to bring them back to life as ghouls. It made no sense. He knew that whatever was going on with the ghouls was complicated, but this? Something that’s been in the making for their entire lives? And how would they begin to scratch the surface of figuring out what this ritual was, and how were they going to figure out how to undo it? Was it even possible?

A door closed down the hall, and Copia turned the corner. At the sight of Perpetua pacing, he jogged down the hall to reach him. “What’s wrong?”

“Bee said that the three ghouls were part of a ritual forty years in the making,” Perpetua summarized quickly. “And that it was completed the night Sister died.”

Copia stepped back, his eyes wide. “The night…” he shoved past Perpetua and stepped into Bee’s office, Perpetua right behind him.

“What do you know, Bee?”

The ghoul specialist didn’t look up. It had moved to Secondo’s body and was doing the same as it had done to Terzo. “Hello, Frater. I know a lot about a lot.”

“What is wrong with these ghouls?” Copia demanded.

“You mean your brothers? Or half-brothers, I should say.” Copia flinched, then his face hardened.

“Yes,” he ground out. “Our brothers.”

Bee spared a glance at him. “Your other brother here did a good job of telling you the important bits. TLDR: your mom is a fucked up individual for doing this. But also, mad respect to her.”

“TL-? English, Bee. What does her death have to do with this?”

“I wish I knew, Frater. But this is outside my expertise; there’s a reason why I hyperfixated on ghouls, and not how to summon the dead. It’s dangerous stuff.”

“But why?” Perpetua whispered. “Why did she kill them? Why did she think she needed our brothers as ghouls, and why did she start it all forty years ago?”

Bee threw an annoyed look at him. “Beats me. She and Papa Nihil never liked me and just pretended I didn’t exist down here. I barely know a thing about what goes on at this place.”

Nobody said another word as Bee began looking over Primo. Finally, Perpetua asked, “How do we undo it?”

“Honestly? I don’t think-”

Copia slammed a fist against a table. Perpetua jumped and whirled to face his brother.

“Fuck that,” Copia snarled. “I’m not letting her have her way again. Not this time.” He stomped over to where Bee was crouched and kneeled to meet it eye to eye. “There has to be something we can do, something to reverse this.”

Bee glared at him. “Haven’t you taken classes about magic, Frater?” Copia gave a short nod. “Then you should know that magic is an exchange in nature. To take from it, you have to give something in return. To me, it seems like Sister decided to give a huge part of herself and knew that the cost would be the three Papas dying, and most likely her own life as well. And you want to stick your nose in that and try to reverse it?”

“I have to do something,” Copia said desperately, the anger quickly bleeding out of him. “This can’t be all that’s left for them, not after everything they lived for and everything they’ve done. They should be buried in peace, not just stuck in some ghouls!”

Bee stared at him, its face unreadable. “Creatio in Arcanis. It’s a basic spellbook that deals with the give and exchange of magic. It should be at the library. Start there. But the rest of this?” It waved at the ghouls. “I can’t help with. I only work with ghouls, not the spirits of the dead.” It looked up at Perpetua, then glanced away. “I’m sorry.”

Perpetua nodded, unable to find the words to properly thank it. He reached down and placed a hand on Copia’s shoulder, who reached up and grasped it in return.

“Creatio in Arcanis,” Copia whispered. “Alright.”

“I’ll send the ghouls back your way once they’ve woken up,” Bee said to the two of them once Copia was on his feet. “And I’ll send a note with them if I’ve uncovered anything else.”

Copia nodded. Perpetua gave it a grateful nod as well. Without a word, the two left the room, leaning against each other as they did so, their feet heavy with newfound knowledge.

Notes:

So, in my silly mind, I like to think that there's an entire department that specializes with ghouls. They summon them, keep eyes on them to make sure they're functioning properly on Earth, and they properly "dispose" of them when they're no longer needed. Some ghouls develop feelings for humans or for other ghouls, it just depends on their personality. And, of course, many have magical abilities like fire, water, other elements, or (very few) can travel through shadows!

Bee is the boss of the ghoul department, and it has a line of bazookas (again, cuz why the fuck not) and created them as a hobby. It kept it a secret but once Sister and Nihil died it started selling them to other Satanic ministries and churches (yeah I think there's more but the one with Ghost is the most powerful). Bee is neurodivergent and hyperfixated on ghouls as a child, and has made them its entire personality. It's rude and narrow sighted, and honestly is a terrible boss lmao. Also it does not like Copia, it did not get a very good first impression of the man

Chapter 10: We're here in the after, of this murderous crafter

Notes:

TW: Mentions of suicide!!! Also some panic attacks.

I'm literally the biggest De Profundis Borealis fan, nobody can come close to how many times I've cried to that song. Also everyone go listen to Ziggy Stardust right now.

I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr plz come say hi!!

When they made it back to the main floor of the Ministry, Perpetua had assumed Copia wanted to be left alone to think about what they had just learned. Instead, his brother muttered, “Come with me if you want.” And then walked away.

Not wanting to be alone, Perpetua followed. He quickly figured out that he was leading him to his office. Copia ducked inside and was out in a flash, a pair of car keys now in his hand. He walked across to Judith’s office and stuck his head in the door.

“Judith,” Copia said to her in a muted tone. “Cancel whatever plans Perpetua and I had for the rest of the day. If Mr. Psaltarian asks about where I am tell him I said he can kiss my ass.” And with that, he was once again walking down the hallway.

Judith opened her mouth, confused.

“Uh,” Perpetua leaned into the doorway. “Just tell him that Copia is helping me with my album.” He gave her an apologetic smile and quickly caught up with the other man.

“Where are we going?” He asked Copia. In response, Copia jingled his keys in Perpetua’s face.

They went to the main lobby of the Ministry and out the large double doors. It was still a beautiful day outside, but with the knowledge that the two of them had now, the day seemed duller, more melancholic.

Copia went around the side of the building to a gated area that held a few cars. He unlocked the gate and held it open for Perpetua, then locked it once they were both through. As Copia did so, Perpetua looked over the cars.

Some were newer, some older. He saw that one had a Cardinal Copia plush on the dash, and that was the one that Copia made a straight shot toward. He stuck the key into the door and unlocked it, slid inside, then popped the lock on the passenger seat. Perpetua got inside and put a seat belt on. He took out his notebook from his jacket pocket and placed it in the cupholder.

The car rumbled to life, and Copia pulled out of the parking spot and drove toward the back of the lot. He pulled up in front of another gate, and one of Copia’s ghouls stepped out of a small gatehouse and opened it for them. Copia gave it a wave in thanks as he drove through.

Once they were free, Copia hit the gas and sped down the winding road that followed the coast. Perpetua rolled down his window and let the wind whip at his face. His brother pointed at the glovebox, and Perpetua opened it to find a CD binder. Some CDs were newer, others had faded labels. Perpetua flipped through the pages and found a blank one that someone had written “driving when sad.” Another read, “secondo’s hits.” And a third, “Sister’s favorite songs.”

He settled on Bowie.

He carefully slid the CD into the player and pressed play. “Five Years” filled the car, Bowie’s voice whistling past their ears and carried out of the car with the wind. Copia nodded in approval and turned it up so that it was all they heard, all they thought about, until it was vibrating in their bones.

News guy wept and told us

Earth was really dying

Cried so much his face was wet

Then I knew he was not lying

They drove through the entirety of Ziggy Stardust, the last note fading as they pulled up to a beautiful house that overlooked the beach. Copia parked the car in the driveway and turned it off, the car stereo falling silent. The world crashed back into Perpetua’s ears. The ocean roared in the distance, the wind nuzzled and caressed his face gently as though it were apologizing for its harsh behavior during their coastal drive.

Copia climbed out, and Perpetua grabbed his notebook before following him. His brother unlocked the front door and stepped through, tossing his keys into a dish next to the door. Perpetua still didn’t say a word as Copia led him to the back of the house, Perpetua trying to get his fill of the place.

It was nice and clean, the air a little stale, but it was clear whose house this was. Pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Psaltarian were scattered through the living room, pictures of the Papas’ achievements framed and displayed. Perpetua saw a large framed picture of Papa Emeritus the third above the couch, Grammy in hand and proud smirk on his face.

Perpetua froze at one picture that was propped on the coffee table. It was a group picture of the three Papas and Copia when he was a Cardinal. Even though it was nearly a decade ago, Copia looked much softer in the photo, his smile shy but exuberant. The three Papas were in the center, wearing casual clothes like slacks and button-downs. Copia stood out in his black Cardinal uniform, with Sister next to him, and Papa Nihil on the other side of the group, next to Secondo, who towered over him. The Psaltarians were next to Sister.

“We were celebrating Terzo’s achievement there,” Copia murmured behind him. “I remember… feeling so proud of him, at what he had accomplished for Ghost. And knowing I had helped in some way as his Cardinal.” He laughed softly, some of the life that had been snuffed coming back into him. “He was insufferable for months after. Whenever someone told him something that he didn’t agree with, he would remind them that he had won a Grammy. Or he would take the opportunity to show it to anyone who asked about it.”

“Where is it now?” Perpetua asked. “The Grammy.”

“I… you know what? I actually don’t know. That big of an award, and I have no idea where Sister or the Psaltarians put it.” He scoffed. “Shows how these things seem so big at the time, and years later it’s just a fucking trophy.”

With a shake of his head, he disappeared into the kitchen. Perpetua heard the sound of a fridge opening and closing, and Copia appeared with two beers in hand. He handed one to Perpetua, who nodded his thanks. He hadn’t drunk any alcohol since he joined the Ministry, but after the day they had, he wasn’t going to deny one now.

Along the back wall of the living room was a wall of curtains that Copia shoved aside to reveal a patio. Copia slid open the patio door and stepped out, Perpetua following. There was a small side table and an outdoor sofa that took up most of the patio. Copia walked up to the railing and rested his forearms along it, Perpetua copying him.

There were a few people on the beach below, some simply enjoying the dying sunlight, others playing with dogs or tossing a ball to each other. A few braved the waves and came out shrieking and laughing from the cold.

Their lives were so different from his and Copia’s, Perpeuta marveled. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it: a normal day on the beach, stretched out on the sand and reading a book. Or maybe he would be running along the coast, the waves lapping at his feet. If he weren’t born as Perpetua, without Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator as his parents, without Copia as his twin brother, then this would be another day on the beach for him.

Or maybe, in a perfect world, he’d be in a picture frame celebrating his half-brother’s greatest achievements with their family.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Copia asked, then took a sip of his beer.

Perpetua blinked his eyes open. “Hm?”

“I don’t know how to swim.”

He turned to his brother in surprise. “Seriously? You’re a forty-three-year-old man, and you don’t know how to swim?”

Copia shrugged, not embarrassed in the slightest. “Was never taught. You?”

“I was forced to learn, after getting tossed into the pond at the orphanage too many times by the older kids,” Perpetua replied tartly. “I can at least tread water.”

His brother waved his beer at the ocean. “Can you survive that?”

Perpetua studied the waves, how they could hear them crashing against the sand all the way up here. A few more people were throwing themselves head-first into the body of water, too caught up in the fun to mitigate the risks of injury.

“Probably not,” he admitted.

Copia hummed and took a long pull from his bottle. Perpetua did the same, the taste familiar to him like an old friend.

“Your turn,” Copia said.

“For what?”

“Tell me a secret. It’s only courtesy.”

Perpetua thought about disagreeing but decided against it. He could tell him something that wasn’t huge, something like…

“I’m gay,” Perpetua said, then felt his face burn. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I-”

“You’re not the first Papa who liked men, don’t worry,” Copia assured him mildly, not noticing how tense Perpetua had become. “Terzo had that covered. And don’t even get me started on the shit Primo did when he was younger.” Another sip of beer. “Me, too, actually. Not exclusively, though, just every now and then.”

Perpetua relaxed. “Are you in a relationship right now?”

“Don’t have time for one. And if I did, I don’t know if I’d want to be involved with someone right now. Not with,” he motioned at his head. “All of this to sort through. You?”

“I think you’d know by now if I were involved with someone,” Perpetua said drily. He knew how fast rumors spread around the Ministry.

Copia snorted. “True.”

The two went quiet as they stared out across the water, Perpetua pondering what Copia had told him. Of course, the Satanic Church wouldn’t care about someone’s sexuality or gender identity. Perpetua, along with the rest of the Clergy, believed in the freedom of bodily autonomy and expression, so why did he still hide from everyone? A force of habit? Lingering fear of judgement?

No, he thought to himself ruefully. It’s because the last time you told someone, he was able to use it against you. And you told yourself you’d rather die than let it happen again.

When he first set foot here, the only people who knew at the Ministry were the Psaltarians, who only found out from digging deep into his past to learn as much as they could about him. Perpetua, still reeling from being told about his lineage as Papa, had let it slide, and was grateful that the two hadn’t cared, but was still frustrated that they had invaded his privacy in such a way. He figured Micah, the girl who had somehow figured him out, had done the same, for whatever reason. He bit back a groan. He still needed to get to the bottom of that.

But what had driven him to tell Copia that night at his apartment? He could’ve lied and said those menstrual pads were for a friend, but he didn’t. Copia, out of everyone at the Ministry, was the last person Perpetua should’ve told due to his loathing and borderline hatred for him.

But then Copia had turned up at his apartment not in anger, but in penitence. He had apologized to him with tears, and promised to help him with solving the mystery that surrounded their brothers. It was more than Perpeuta had expected, and it had broken his meager defenses like a cannon blasting through wood.

Perpetua had given him his secret with a laugh. And Copia accepted it with an apology. And they moved on.

Copia coughed awkwardly, and it brought Perpetua back to the present.

“So, what’s in the notebook?” Copia asked as he turned and pointed at it. Perpetua had set it down on a small table. “Songs, I’m guessing.”

“Ah, yeah, for my album.” Perpetua ignored the instinct to snatch up his notebook and pretend it didn’t exist. He went over and sat down on the couch, Copia sitting next to him and setting his bottle aside.

His brother held a hand out. “May I?”

With a hesitant nod, Perpetua placed the book in his hand.

Copia flipped it open. As he read the music, he bobbed his head side to side, murmuring the lyrics to the song. Perpetua recognized it as “Lachryma,” the song that Copia had heard weeks ago.

He tried not to pinch his gloves to show how nervous he was as Copia suddenly flipped to the middle of the notebook. Perpetua was familiar enough with it that he knew he was at the beginning of “Umbra.”

“‘In the shadow of the Nazarene, I put my love in you.’” Copia grinned at him. “Perpetua, is this a song about fucking in a church?”

Perpetua wanted to bury his face in his hands in embarrassment, but he sat up straighter. He knew what kind of songs the past Papas had written about, his weren’t any different.

“Yes, it is.”

Copia threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, that’s amazing. The lyrics are catchy, too; it’ll be a hit for sure. And there’s going to be a keyboardist and guitarist climaxing together, too?” Copia whistled appreciatively. “Sounds sexy.”

“What did you think of ‘Lachryma?’” Perpetua asked, both eager and nervous for Copia’s answer.

“I like it, actually. And I’ve heard many other members of the Clergy enjoy it as well.” Copia tapped his fingers against the book in a nervous gesture. “Listen… I’m sorry for insulting your music. I… well, you know how I felt at the time, but still. It wasn’t appropriate of me.”

Perpetua accepted the apology with a simple nod. Maybe he accepted it a little too easily, but he wanted to put it past them. Copia went back to flipping through the book, then stumbled upon the lyrics that Perpetua had been stuck on earlier that day.

“What’s this song about?” Copia asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Perpetua admitted. “All I have right now is just a handful of lyrics, and an idea of some drums and the keyboard during it, but that’s it.”

“Well, it’s a good start,” Copia said to him. He shut the book and handed it over. Perpetua took it and placed it on the cushion next to him. “Another day, I’ll try to give you some advice from my days as a songwriter. Now,” he slapped his hands on his thighs and exhaled. “Let’s talk about the real issue at hand. How the fuck are going to release our brothers’ souls from the bodies of ghouls?”

Perpetua set his beer down on the table in front of him, needing a clear mind to think. Honestly, he wasn’t sure where to go from here. It felt as though they were back to where they started: no closer to figuring out what exactly happened to their brothers and how to undo it. “The easiest place to start is with that book Bee mentioned,” Perpetua finally replied. “And there are professors or something like that at home that teach this kind of stuff, right? We can ask them for help as well.”

Copia thought about it. “That’s a start. I know a few who are teaching about demons and ghouls right now. I’ll look into getting that book first thing tomorrow.”

“Could we try talking to Mrs. Psaltarian as well? I know you said she won’t talk if Sister told her not to, but surely she cared for the former three Papas in some way, and if she knew the situation we’re in…”

But Copia was shaking his head. “You don’t understand how ruthless they are, Perpetua. Their highest priority is spreading the word of Satan and expanding Ghost as far as possible. If Sister thought that the best route to do so was taking out the Papas and putting their souls in ghouls, then…” Copia spread his hands with a shrug.

“What if we mentioned that they can’t handle playing your songs?” Perpetua offered, a little desperate. They couldn’t figure this out on their own. “I can’t perform with ghouls that can’t play almost half of our discography.”

“Well,” Copia said in a dull voice. “That might just be the perfect excuse for them to not use any of my songs on tour.”

“But that’s- why would they-“ Perpetua made a frustrated noise and stood, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

“Is that all our family amounted to?” He nearly shouted, his growing frustration and anxiety finally getting the best of him. “A mother who only needed me to fill in the role of some fucking Satanic pope when it was convenient, a father who was a deabeat, and brothers who I never knew who are now ghouls because of a weird fucking ritual?! And they’re all dead! And whoever is left has some weird, petty vendetta against each other! That’s it? That’s the family experience I missed out on?”

“Yep,” Copia said with forced nonchalance, not at all put off by Perpetua’s sudden anger. He was lounging against the couch with his arm across the back, his beer back in hand. He drained the rest of it too quickly to be casual. Perpetua knew his brother well enough by now to see how uncomfortable he was at the mention of their dysfunctional, mostly dead family.

Copia hummed. “There were good moments, too. Like that time when Mr. Psaltarian and our parents took a drive down the coast with me, but then Nihil shit his pants.” Copia wrinkled his nose. “The smell was in my car for months after that.”

“Your best memory of our father,” Perpetua said flatly. “Is of him shitting himself in your car.”

“…well, when you put it like that-“

Perpetua fell back onto the couch with a huff. “I can’t believe this. This entire situation feels like some fucked up joke. And here we are, two brothers who can barely have an amicable conversation without one of us freaking out or it being incredibly awkward.”

Copia didn’t reply, and Perpetua began to feel bad, but he couldn’t help the pessimism that suddenly flooded him. How was any of this fair? Their entire lives were predestined by their mother, who cared more about power than her sons, even going as far as murdering three men to get it. Nobody seemed to care about their predicament, nobody wanted to help them. What were they going to do?

Perpetua remembered how he had decided a month ago not to take the first steps to save the souls of their brothers, and shame washed through with such intensity he felt bile crawl into his throat. How selfish of him to keep these three men tethered to this realm when they had no say in the matter. Primo’s disembodied voice echoed in his mind, the desperation in it that made his stomach drop every time he thought about it.

What was wrong with him? He was so desperate to have some sort of familial love that he took it from ghouls, from monsters. Why can’t he just accept that he was never meant to have that life, that he was always going to be lonely no matter his circumstances? He felt that familiar darkness slowly overcome him, the type that would sneak out of the shadows at night and envelope him. That consuming emptiness that had nearly driven him to end his life just a few months ago. Except he was on a patio overlooking the beach, and the sunset was right there, and his twin brother was next to him. That was miles better than what he had before. So why wasn’t he happy? Why can’t he just be happy and-

And there was a juice box in his hand?

Copia stood next to him, his own juice box in his hand. He reached over and pinched him hard on his shoulder. “I need you to chill the fuck out.”

Perpetua blinked down at the juice box. It was cold, and the condensation was sinking into his glove, and oh, he actually hated the sensation of the wet fabric sticking to his hand. He set the juice box down and slipped his gloves off, then took the juice in his hand and pried the straw off the side of it.

“Sorry,” he whispered, embarrassed by his lack of control.

Copia sat back down and sipped on his juice. “It’s fine. Long day, you know? It’s… it’s a lot, being part of this family. And I’m sorry it’s not all that it should’ve been. And, you know, there were happier times. Moments where the Papas would invite me to play card games with them, or one of them would help me out by giving me advice or something.” Copia’s eyes unfocused, a sad smile on his lips as he continued.

“I was terrified of Secondo for the longest time. He was huge, nobody knew where his height came from. His mother was a surrogate, basically just someone to carry the baby. But she was a small woman, apparently, and Nihil definitely wasn’t a large man. So it was a shock when Secondo came out the size that he did, poor woman. But at least once a week, he would stop by the daycare and read to the children, then play games with them. So many Sisters would swoon over him, even though he was kind of an asshole and partied all throughout his tour.”

“And Primo… he was a gentleman when he was older, but when he was younger?” Copia whistled. “He was worse than Terzo, if you can believe it. Always sneaking off with someone, never took his duties seriously. He barely passed his qualifications and training to become Cardinal, and even then, it was because Nihil had to threaten him with not passing on the papacy to him.”

“But he mellowed out as he got older and was actually a pretty good frontman to Ghost. And Terzo…” his voice, which had gotten thicker with emotion as he spoke, finally choked up. “I was his Cardinal during his time as Papa. Out of the four of us, he was the most musically inclined and wasn’t afraid of challenging the status quo when it came to how Ghost should be conducted. He was more personable, and I believe the acoustic tours helped us more than Sister and Nihil would ever admit. We would spend so many nights talking about his plans for Ghost, pretending that there was a chance that he would carry on the legacy after his tour ended.”

“And when he was dragged offstage, it shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. Since there wasn’t a successor lined up, a part of me really believed that Terzo would continue being Papa. But I didn’t know that Sister had plans for me, and then…” he fell quiet.

Perpetua didn’t know what to say, so he sipped at his juice box until it was empty. He wished he had the chance to get to know his three half-brothers, but hearing about them from Copia made it feel even more special, more personal. After a moment of silence, Copia drank from his juice box even though it was already empty, the noise loud in the stillness between them.

“I just don’t know why they hate my music so much.”

Perpetua blinked a few times. “What?”

Copia waved his juice box around in agitation. “They throw a fucking tantrum whenever they play my music! Why?! Is it that bad? I mean, it’s no ‘Cirice,’ but I still have some hits!”

Perpetua couldn’t help but laugh, the air a little easier to breathe in. “I think it has to do with the fact that they’re ghouls.”

“No, no, even ghosts hate my music, Perpetua,” Copia complained. He slumped over the side of couch and laid the back of his hand over his eyes. “I’m an awful musician, it’s okay, you can tell me.”

He laughed again, his mood lightening when he saw Copia grin. “If I’m being honest, my favorite Ghost album is Prequelle. I like how emotional it is; it feels personal in ways the other albums don’t.”

Copia glanced at him from under his hand, his white eye stark in the shadow. “Really?”

“Yes. My favorite songs are ‘Rats’ and ‘See the Light.’”

His brother stayed quiet. Perpetua slid his gloves back on and set his empty juice box next to his beer. The sun had nearly set, and the wind had become stronger as it inched closer to night. He realized that he could no longer hear the sounds of people on the beach below.

“My favorite is ‘Rats,’ too,” Copia admitted quietly, then cleared his throat. “We should probably get going. Maybe we can stop by somewhere for dinner. Fuck, when was the last time I had some fast food?”

The two threw away their bottles and juice boxes. Perpetua grabbed his notebook and waited for Copia by the car as he locked up the house, and they climbed in. Instead of putting another CD on, Copia turned on the radio and tuned to a pop radio station. Of course, he somehow knew the words to some peppy, cheery anthem about breakups and summer nights. He tried to save face and say that Judith played the radio during work, and Perpetua told him that he knew that Judith didn’t have a radio. Copia flipped him off and turned up the volume. Perpetua returned the gesture with a childlike grin.

They stopped at a diner where they ate greasy cheeseburgers and drank thick milkshakes as they made up stories of people who walked past the diner. They whispered about how the woman with the stiletto heels who was on the phone was talking to her ex-husband about who was more in the wrong, her for cheating on him with their neighbor, or him for using their life savings to fund his drug-dealing business. When Perpetua asked him if he was just stealing ideas from the show “Breaking Bad,” Copia admitted he had binged it during his last tour and that it quickly became one of his favorites.

They ended up discussing shows and movies they’ve seen; Perpetua was more familiar with modern media, while Copia loved to reminisce about the classics. They both shared an equal love of fantasy and sci-fi, though, and Copia hesitantly brought up the idea of maybe having a “Star Wars” marathon someday. Perpetua readily agreed, and he smiled at how Copia seemed to brighten considerably when he asked his brother if he preferred the prequels or sequels.

The drive home was quick, Copia singing along to a rock song on a different radio station that Perpetua quietly sang along with. The sun was long set, the moon climbing higher and higher. As they approached the Ministry, Perpetua couldn’t help but be dazzled by the sight of the large, gothic buildings with lights that sparkled in the windows. It truly was a beautiful place, even though it was riddled with dark secrets.

He watched a light flicker out in one of the windows, distant like a star. Another one went out. Two far-off, glowing lights that were lost to the darkness. His hair fluttered around him as the piercing wind flew around him and out of the car, a shiver going down his spine as goosebumps popped up along his arms. He suddenly missed the sun, how warm and inviting it was when it had shone down on him and Copia at the beach house. He almost laughed. Of course, he didn’t appreciate the sun until it was gone. He was left yearning for the moment when it crested over the ocean in blinding rays of light, heralding a new day.

He jolted in his seat. There it was. The chorus that he had been struggling with for that song he had been working on earlier. He itched to write it down, but he had misplaced his pen at some point and would have to wait until he got to his apartment. His leg bounced up and down in anticipation which he tried to stifle but failed.

Copia turned the car into the driveway of the Ministry. Once they were parked, the day seemed to catch up to him in a rush, and he yawned. Neither spoke a word as they walked inside, Copia giving Perpetua a tired wave once they reached the courtyard that held the apartments and suites.

He shuffled inside and closed the door behind him, then immediately went to his desk and grabbed a new pen. His notebook was in his hands before he could think, and he flipped to the page and scribbled down the chorus:

Every time you feel the wind blow

And a glow within you dies

When tomorrow comes, you will know

That the morning thaws the ice

Something settled in his chest, like a hole finally filled. As though a spell had been lifted, his eyes immediately drooped with exhaustion. He set his notebook down on his desk and used the rest of his energy to dress down to his underwear before flopping onto his bed, nearly asleep before his head hit the pillow.

He dreamt that he was throwing himself into crystal blue waves, laughing and shouting in joy. The water sparkled like jewels and carried him in loving arms, sweeping him onto the beach with gentle waves. It was the most relaxing sleep he had gotten in weeks.

Notes:

I like to think that Copia's icy demeanor to Perpetua would thaw pretty quickly once they got to know each other. But he would still struggle a lot with feeling rejected or shoved aside from his time as Papa, and would have a hard time trying to navigate it without taking it out on his brother.

But once they start to work past that, they'd have a very silly, amicable relationship. They'd be best buds :)

EDIT: I realized the other day that when Copia said "our dad shit himself in a car" that Nihil was a ghost... whooops ;-; SO ghosts don't exist in this fic and let's all pretend that Nihil was alive when he shit himself in Copia's car ok? Okay :)

Chapter 11: A genesis captured, ignited by truth

Notes:

FIRST OF ALL thank u to bright-as-the-starlight and insecthusbandry on Tumblr for beta reading this chapter!! I really struggled with it and they helped reassure me that things were making sense outside of my brain lol

I was also worried that this chapter was too long (over 12,000 words or 28 pages whoooops) so that's why it took me a bit longer than I would've liked to have this ready :3

And I've turned guest comments on! :3 Never had them on for a fic before but I figured I'd try it out with this one for fun.

I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr!

Copia sat in front of Sister Imperator with his gloved hands clasped tightly in his lap. He fidgeted under her quiet gaze as she regarded him. No matter how long he had been considered her assistant, he still found her awfully intimidating in her sharp outfits and even sharper demeanor.

He had mentally gone through all the reasons why she would summon him to her office and couldn’t come up with a single reason. He had been diligent in his duties as Cardinal and had even been considered the runner-up for Employee of the Month. So, why-?

“Can you sing, Cardinal?” She asked, breaking the quiet tension in the room.

“Eh- sing, Sister? I was part of the adult choir for a few years when I was in my twenties, so I think I can hold a note, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied with an awkward chuckle. Did she want him to work with the choir? They did recently expand their ensemble and might need assistance…

“What about performing in front of crowds? Do you think you could handle that?”

“Well- how large a crowd do you mean? Like the arenas that Ghost have performed, or just singing in front of the Congregation?”

“Both.”

“Oh. I could try. But if I may ask, why would I need to do so?”

Her stoic face softened a touch. “I’ve had my eye on you for a few years, Cardinal. You’re an impressive member of the Clergy and have never stepped away from a challenge. Other than the Papas, you’re the closest person that we have that truly understands Ghost’s purpose and its importance, and how much it takes to be its frontman.”

That was true. His time with Terzo during the Meliora tour was incredibly enlightening, and it had opened a pit inside Copia that he was desperate to fill. Life on the road had been exhilarating, and he had loved every moment. The nights spent watching Terzo perform had left him… hungry, almost. Hungry to have the crowd’s dazzled eyes on him, to feel the awe that exuded from them on stage. With that in mind, he hoped Sister was inviting him to work with the next Papa who was going to tour just to have a chance to experience it all again.

“I agree, Sister. Terzo taught me much during his time as Papa, and I worked closely with our label to make sure everything went smoothly.”

A smile slowly formed on her face, and Copia braced himself at the sight of it, a feeling of dread growing in his gut. “Precisely, Cardinal. Which is why you are going to be our next Papa and become the new frontman of Ghost. Of course,” she continued, like Copia’s world hadn’t just flipped over. “You’ll start as Cardinal, then ascend to Papa once you’re deemed ready.”

“What the fuck?” Copia burst out, then shut his mouth with a click of his teeth.

Sister blinked and raised an annoyed eyebrow, her smile quickly disappearing. “What was that, Cardinal?”

Shit. He gripped his cassock in his lap, no doubt wrinkling it. “I’m- I apologize, Sister, I just wasn’t expecting that at all. I’d be more than honored to be Papa, but… why me?” he finished weakly.

“Like I said before,” she replied, her tone clipped. “You are the closest the Ministry has to a Papa who knows the ropes. Also,” she motioned at her left eye. “You already bear the mark that ties you to the Emerituses, so you’re halfway there. You’re the most logical choice.”

Copia brought his hand to his left cheek. Some days, he forgot that he had that eye and would get startled when he got a glimpse of it in the mirror. It had been a few years since he had gotten it, and he still wasn’t used to it. He was scared that the day he found his white eye normal was going to be the day when he no longer knew himself, when he was no longer “Copia.”

It seemed that the day had arrived.

“I…” This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? A chance to rise above them all, to be on the same level as the men who he had watched roam these same halls as him his entire life, full of pride and prestige. He suddenly thought of the night Terzo had been dragged off stage, his title as Papa stripped from him as his father bore it once again. Speaking of the Papas…

“What about Terzo? And the other Papas? And how would Papa Nihil react?” He added as an afterthought. He knew the man didn’t like him for some reason, and considering that the man had reinstated himself as the new Papa, he couldn’t see Papa Nihil bearing the news well.

“Don’t worry about them, Cardinal,” Sister assured him with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll take care of them. They all know that their time as Papa has passed, and I’m sure they’ll accept my reasoning for new blood.”

Well. That was ominous. But he also knew that Sister Imperator could be terribly persuasive. And if she was saying it wouldn’t be an issue with the Papas…

“Then… I accept, Sister,” he found himself saying, like it was that easy. And, he figured, it was.

Her smile returned. It was reminiscent of a predator that had snagged its prey. “Excellent. We’ll perform the rite in a few days under Papa Nihil’s direction, and you’ll begin your ascension.” She stood and extended her hand to him. “I look forward to the day when you become Papa, Cardinal Copia.”

In a daze, he stood and gripped her hand in his red glove. He felt as though he was making a deal with the Devil, and the price was already paid.

—

Copia woke up feeling… subdued.

The dream about him accepting the papacy had been so clear, so precise about what had happened that moment in time, that he was severely disoriented when he opened his eyes. It only lasted for a few moments before reality caught up to him. All he could do was lay on his side and stare into the darkness of his bedroom, the weight of that memory and the following days washing over him. It was as though he was lying on a beach and the tide was rapidly approaching, and if he didn’t move soon he’d be swept out to sea.

It had awakened… those memories, the memories that he had struggled to bury after his confrontation with Perpetua only a week and a half ago. That initial excitement and anticipation of becoming Papa, the flattered confusion as to why Sister had chosen him. And then the subsequent horror as the Clergy’s three former Papas were slain.

He had ignorantly forgotten the collective mourning the Clergy suffered when the three Papas, to them, had seemingly disappeared. Too caught up in his own grief, in how he had unwillingly been used as an excuse for their demise, to consider how the rest of the Clergy would react to their three beloved Papas being gone.

But he remembered the funeral, the echoes of disbelieving cries in the chapel, the hushed, confused murmurs that surrounded him. How his hands had trembled and his voice had quivered as he led Mass in their honor, and the quiet breakdown that brought him to his knees at the altar when everyone had left. Only he and a few people knew at the time what had truly happened, and the rest of the Clergy had been fed the lie that the three Papas had willingly ended their lives. Such a flimsy lie. And to disrespect those three men with such a horrid accusation had only added another layer to Copia’s anger. But he didn’t dispute it, nor did he fight against Sister and Nihil when they spread the rumor behind closed doors. All he could do was allow time to distance himself from it all, until days turned to weeks into months and then he was suddenly on the road with his new ghouls.

He eventually dozed off. When he finally woke up, groggy and his chin wet with drool, he realized he had overslept. He quickly got ready for the day and was hurrying to his office, frantically running his hands through his hair to smooth it, when his walkie on his hip crackled to life.

“Copia? You awake? Over.” Perpetua said.

He unclipped the device and raised it to his mouth as he jogged down a set of stairs. “Barely. I woke up late. I think yesterday got to me more than I anticipated, so I didn’t sleep well, over.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” his brother replied. “I hope you’re not too exhausted to do some studying later. I was just wondering if you wanted to meet at the library during lunch. We could look into that book together. Over.”

“Yeah, sounds good, man,” Copia said into his walkie. He waved to Judith as he passed her office and opened his office door. “How about… noon? Are you available then? Over.”

“Yes. See you then. Over.”

He stepped into his office and turned on the light. The moment Copia saw the stack of waiting files on his desk, he pivoted and walked over to Judith’s office. On a good day, he only felt a moderate amount of loathing toward his office. On a bad day, he wanted to burn it to the ground. It was a good thing he didn’t have a lighter on hand today.

Judith’s desk was neat and had a few tiny crocheted animals that she made as a hobby scattered around. She had obviously been at work for at least an hour now. Copia was jealous of her self-discipline.

“You want coffee?” He asked her as casually as he could, hoping to put off his workload just a little bit longer.

She glanced up from her computer and smiled. “No, thanks, Frater. I already had a cup of tea. Oh!” She picked up a folder from her desk. “Here. It’s the first draft of Papa’s contract for his tour. It came in this morning.”

“Oh.” Copia took the folder, not able to reflect her excitement. This was it; the beginning of a new tour without him. If he hadn’t woken up feeling like shit, he might’ve been able to scrounge up some sort of positive feelings for Perpetua, but all he could summon was jealousy and disgust at himself for feeling that way.

Stop being dramatic, he chastised himself. You promised yourself and Perpetua that you’d get over yourself. He shook his head to clear his mind. “Thank you, Judith.”

She nodded and pointed at the walkie in his hand. “So, you got the walkies for you and Papa?”

He glanced down at it. She had been the one to find the package when it arrived and unboxed it for him as she thought it was fan mail, something that found its way to the Ministry from time to time.

“Eh- yeah, we thought it would be easier to communicate this way,” he told her. “Since I don’t have a cell phone.” He had one, but lost it during his last tour. And with everything that happened, he just hadn’t gotten a new one yet. But he found he didn’t miss it so much the longer he went without one.

“True,” she smiled a little. “Sorry if it’s not my place to pry, but it seems like you two are closer than you were before. That’s great!”

How he had gotten a ray of sunshine as a secretary, he didn’t know. He nodded. “We are, yes. We’ve had many… enlightening talks.”

“I’m glad, Frater,” she said, her smile softening. “I hope it makes your job easier from here on out.”

Copia nodded again in agreement before leaving the room. He slid the folder under his arm and walked down the hall to the break room, and began working on a cup of coffee.

Once he found a mug, he turned to the coffee machine and scowled; the machine’s “fill with water” light blinked at him. He begrudgingly went back and forth between the machine and the sink to fill it up. As the machine sputtered to life, he opened the folder and began scanning its contents.

It was a standard contract. Pretty much the same as it was for Copia and the previous Papas. What caught Copia’s eye was that there was no end to Perpetua’s term. Meaning, after his album, there would be no new Papa lined up after him.

Well… maybe the label forgot to include that section? It was the first draft, after all. But Copia knew he was pulling at thin air here. This wasn’t his first rodeo; he knew how meticulous these contracts were. But who had agreed on his behalf as Frater…?

The answer was immediately clear.

The Psaltarians. Specifically, Aunt Marika.

He wasn’t dumb. He knew that she considered herself the person who ran the show behind the scenes. And in many cases, she’d be correct. And if Perpetua and he didn’t have that heart-to-heart almost two weeks ago, he honestly wouldn’t have even bothered to look at his brother’s contract.

But he was involved now. For better or for worse, he was involved.

He pinched his nose with an annoyed growl. There was so much to handle, so much to do. It had accumulated so fast that he had a hard time finding a place to start tackling it all. He didn’t know how their mother did it all those years.

She had the Psaltarians and Nihil, and had the entire Ministry under her heel, he thought. You have your twin, whom you didn’t know existed until a few months ago, and that’s it.

Did everyone want him to crash and burn? Did they want him to fail as Frater and get him out of the picture? If not, then why wasn’t anyone telling him what was really going on around here? It made him think about how Perpetua had blown up yesterday, how his vexation finally surfaced and exploded out of him. Copia couldn’t blame him one bit, and it had been validating to see, but it had also made him… uncomfortable. It was one thing to realize the neglect and toxicity that were pervasive in his life, and another to have it recognized by someone and thrown in your face. He had been loved, to an extent, and cared for, to an extent. Maybe not by a parental figure, but by those who filled other caretaker roles in the Ministry, like those at the daycare, the kitchen staff, and the nurses. His accomplishments were always acknowledged and appreciated, his thoughts and worries addressed. He almost wanted to defend Sister and the Psaltarians, to claim that it hadn’t been all that bad.

But it was that bad. It was still that bad.

It was like his life (and relationships) had functioned on two extremes: being used and manipulated toward a goal that had been spoon-fed his entire life into wanting, or being encouraged and cared for in small, yet momentous gestures of love that he clung to in those hectic moments of his life. And Sister Imperator was always the source.

The coffee machine beeped. He dug out a coffee pod from the box next to it and shoved it into its slot, then placed the mug under the spout. When it finished dripping out coffee, he didn’t hesitate to take a large sip, needing it to seer away his thoughts. He flinched at how badly it burned his tongue.

It didn’t help. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for trying.

He trudged back to his office and slumped into his chair. He was already exhausted, and he hadn’t even turned on his computer. The folder glared that melancholic yellow at him, and he glared back. He almost wanted to leave it alone, to let Aunt Marika handle it like she had been handling nearly everything since he became Frater. To throw the folder away and claim he had never seen the contract. It was so tempting, to just allow Perpetua’s life to be fucked over like his was, to finally have someone who would understand what it was like to be walked on and dismissed, only used as a pawn in a larger scheme you’ll never know you were part of until one day your life was turned over. A brother who understood him in the darkest, emptiest points in his life.

With those dark, tempting thoughts in mind, his hand was reaching for the folder, his gaze already falling to the trash can next to his desk, when his walkie crackled to life, still attached at his hip.

“Hey,” Perpetua said. “I’m sorry if you’re busy right now, I just wanted to say… last night was nice. It helped me sort out some thoughts. So,” crunchy static that sounded like a cough. “Um- thanks. I’ll see you later. Over.”

Right. Last night. They had gone to a diner and eaten food that made Copia’s chest burn, but he savored it with the rest of his meal. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heartburn, and the experience had made him feel more present in his body that moment than he had all evening. They had talked about movies and strangers, about Star Wars and marathons. For the first time in a long time, the Ministry, the ghouls, being Frater Imperator, the Ghost project, all those pressing issues were the furthest thing from his mind. And in that short time, he had learned so much about his twin brother.

He was extremely polite when ordering food, to the point where he didn’t even bother mentioning that he didn’t like pickles to their waitress and had simply picked them off his burger. (Copia snatched them off his plate.) And when he found that he didn’t have his wallet to give a tip to her, he was so distressed that he had promised Copia that he would pay him back if he gave her an extra ten dollars on his behalf.

When Copia joked about some mundane observation, it made Perpetua snort mid-sip of his milkshake, and his face turned beet red as he choked. Copia felt like a kid as he pointed and laughed at him, and his brother had eaten Copia’s cherry from his milkshake in response before flicking the stem at him.

Perpetua loved French fries. He shifted a lot in his seat, like he was never comfortable. His favorite color was purple, like the deep, royal color seen in Terzo’s robes. Actually, from the few videos he’s seen of the Papas, Terzo was his favorite. Copia took offense to that, and Perpetua told him that at least Terzo had never told him he should “grow a pair.” When Copia had sarcastically reminded him that their brother had never even met Terzo because he was murdered by their mother, so he didn’t know what an actual pain in the ass he was, Perpetua had waved a hand and said “semantics.”

Copia laughed and laughed at that. Perpetua grinned that wide, toothy smile of his. At first, Copia thought it was a little creepy paired with the mask. But it wasn’t creepy. It was bright and lively, full of amusement and contentment. It reflected the shine in Perpetua’s eyes that made his eyes stand out from under the mask. A light that Copia realized he had been missing for some time now when he looked at his own reflection.

A light that he was about to snuff out with a toss of a folder.

He dropped it like it had suddenly burned him. It landed on his desk, a few of the pages spilling out. He couldn’t do that. He won’t. He had told Perpetua himself that he was the Papa that they needed, and he still stood by that.

But to allow Perpetua to flourish, someone was going to have to watch his back, to shield him from the secrets that had plagued Copia all his life. And Copia would do that for him, for his brother. All his life, someone had steered him in a certain direction for their gain, for their god, for Ghost. He’d keep the Psalatarians at bay for Perpetua, to allow him freedom and stability to make his own decisions as Papa.

He wasn’t going to let anyone control Perpetua’s life. Not like what had been done to him. Not if he had a say. He was fucking Frater Imperator, he was the man that ran this entire place, and he was going to take that power back.

He’d make sure that Perpetua was the best damn Papa this Ministry had ever seen. With a fire lit inside him, he got to work.

—

The alarm he had set on his computer for lunchtime went off. He stretched in his chair, groaning when his back popped and his muscles sang in pleasure. He was satisfied with what he had accomplished today. It was the complete opposite of his mood from when he had first woken up, and it felt good. He almost made him feel like a Cardinal again, the work similar to what he had to handle while working with Terzo during his tour.

After getting in contact with their agent from the label, he requested all documents and terms for Perpetua to be sent to him. He had then asked the same of Judith and told her explicitly not to let Aunt Marika know. She seemed to catch on immediately to what he was doing and had only smiled and quietly sent him every memo, email, and contact that Aunt Marika had in regards to their label.

He spent the morning sorting through it all, sending emails, calling people, trying to reset the power structure. Despite him asking Judith not to say a word about it to Aunt Marika, he knew it was inevitable that his aunt was going to realize what he was doing. And boy, was he looking forward to that conversation.

But he wasn’t going to back down. He had thought he would balk or shy away from having to handle this much responsibility, but having Perpetua’s well-being in mind helped him get rid of any ire at the hard work. In fact, he quite enjoyed having something to do all morning. It was extremely rewarding.

His stomach rumbled. He glanced at the time and decided to ask Perpetua if he wanted to have lunch together before getting down to business. Once his office was locked up, he radioed him on his walkie.

“I’m gonna grab lunch before meeting you. Do you want to meet me there instead of the library? Over.”

“Already at the cafeteria. Over.”

Copia walked with a pep in his step, his stomach growing louder and louder. The cafeteria was busy. It was like a sea of black with how many people wore different variations of the Ministry uniform. There were a few scattered red and black cassocks, but most of the attire was the long habits and skirts for those who preferred them, and black slacks with priestly robes for others.

As he stood in line at the buffet, he chatted with Sisters and Siblings, taking note of their concerns and smiling when they expressed their gratitude. He grabbed a sandwich with chips and a jug of milk and made sure to thank the Siblings who were in charge of today’s meal, reminding them that without them, there wouldn’t be a Ministry for him to run. They laughed him off, but he could tell they appreciated the gesture.

It was easy to spot Perpetua among the tables. Copia could see those sideburns from miles away, but it was also because Siblings and Cardinals seemed to have gravitated around him, eager to have a chance to talk to Papa. Copia didn’t miss the way a few of them were touchy and their smiles flirtatious as they spoke to Perpetua. He worried for a moment that the attention was going to overwhelm Perpetua, but was relieved to see his brother holding up just fine as he got closer.

He noticed the ghouls sitting against the wall next to Perpetua’s table. It seemed like they were just fine after Bee had stunned them. And, as always, the drummer ghoul wasn’t with them. Nobody else gave them a second glance, but then again, nobody else knew what truly resided in them. To the Clergy, they were just a new set of ghouls following the new Papa. He took a moment to compose himself by focusing on his brother, watching how he interacted with their followers.

He would gently move a wandering hand aside as it came to rest on his shoulder or forearm. When someone complimented him, he would accept it humbly and move on, not dwelling on the flirtatious flutter of eyelashes or disappointed pouts. People quickly got the idea that Perpetua wasn’t going to reciprocate and would leave with a dejected look on their face. It almost made Copia laugh. The first Papa who wasn’t taking every chance he could to have a quick lay. Oh, if their brothers could see the new Papa now.

Oh. Right. They were sitting next to Perpetua on the fucking floor.

The thought sobered him as he made it to the table. Perpetua saw him and waved to the seat next to him. It looked like he had been saving it for Copia, which he appreciated. Even more eyes brightened at the sight of him walking toward Perpetua. Not wanting to be the runner-up to those who had failed to receive Perpetua’s affections, he quickly dispelled the crowd with the excuse that he needed to talk to his brother about important matters, and made sure to quell any disappointment with a wink.

“Thank you,” Perpetua muttered under his breath. Maybe he hadn’t been holding up as well as Copia thought. “The one day I don’t show up to the cafeteria for dinner, and suddenly everyone misses me.”

“It’ll keep happening until someone gets in your pants,” Copia replied. He chuckled when Perpetua’s nose wrinkled at the thought. “It’ll die down at some point. More importantly,” he pointed at the abomination on his brother’s tray. “What in the hell is that?”

“What?” Perpetua looked down at his plate. “It’s a tuna sandwich. And a salad.”

“Yeah, exactly, how am I related to someone who likes tuna?” He shuddered. “It’s disgusting.”

Perpetua narrowed his eyes at him. With deliberation, he kept Copia’s gaze as he picked up his sandwich and took a large bite. Copia pretended to retch.

“You’re disgusting. The most despicable person I know, and that’s saying something.”

His brother swallowed. “You’re drinking milk with your meal as a forty-three-year-old man. And,” he said loudly when Copia began to protest. “You can’t swim. I’d worry about that first before you try to make me feel bad for liking tuna sandwiches.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything last night,” Copia muttered. “And milk is good for you, it helps your bones.”

“Yeah, if you’re a toddler.” Perpetua shot back. They met each other’s eyes and glared, but it lacked any heat. Copia bit on the inside of his cheek when his lips trembled with restrained laughter, and he saw Perpetua bite down on his lip.

A giggle burst out of his brother, who immediately looked mortified. Copia laughed at the sight. Before long, Perpetua was joining him. He wasn’t laughing out of amusement, but more joy. It was just so fucking nice to joke with someone like this. It was almost otherworldly how easy it was to laugh with Perpetua, and it almost scared him with how quickly they had gotten to this point in barely two weeks and how easy it suddenly was to be in the man’s presence after last night.

“Seriously,” Perpetua said with a chuckle. “We should eat as quickly as possible so that we have enough time to check out that book. I have to meet some Cardinals in a few hours.”

Copia nodded, and the two ate lunch in silence. Thankfully, nobody interrupted them, and they were able to leave the cafeteria without Perpetua breaking any more hearts. Perpetua gathered their brothers as they left, and Copia squawked in protest when he was pushed from Perpetua’s side by a protective triangle of ghouls.

“Sorry,” Perpetua said to him. He had to lean forward to look Copia in the eye as Primo’s body blocked him from view. “I don’t know why they do this.”

Copia simply shook his head.

As they entered the library, Copia took a moment to look around. It was one of the largest rooms at the Ministry and had gone through the most renovations to keep up with the growing expanse of knowledge. The latest renovation included a computer lab and a set of study rooms. The dark walnut bookshelves seemed endless. Windows lined the walls, but they were almost always covered to protect the books from sun damage, and large chandeliers had been installed decades ago to make up for the lack of light. Tables that had been here longer than Copia had been alive were scattered throughout the library with stiff, wooden chairs that Copia knew from personal experience were uncomfortable to sit in after too long.

The library was nearly empty, but Adam was at the front desk. When he caught sight of them, he hollered, “Make sure to bring those books back, you two! We got holds on ‘em.”

Copia sent the man a thumbs-up as they walked by. “We will, Adam. First thing tomorrow, don’t worry!” Perpetua nodded sheepishly in reply.

“Do you know where that book is?” Perpetua asked as he followed Copia into the rows of bookshelves.

“I think so. Creatio in Arcanis, right? I checked it out years ago, and if I remember right…” He made an “ah-ha!” noise when he saw the shelf where it was located. He carefully slid it out of place and carried it to a small table at the back to give them privacy. Perpetua told their brothers they were free to wander, but they simply piled on top of one another next to the table.

“What the fuck?” Copia asked, a little disturbed. He had never known their half-brothers to be cuddly, especially not with each other. He’d seen ghouls behave this way with each other but rarely in public. “Why are they doing that?”

Perpetua shrugged, not bothered by it at all. “They do that sometimes.”

Copia stared for a bit longer, watching as the three ghouls simply closed their eyes and relaxed against each other. “Isn’t it weird? Seeing them like that?”

“I never knew them when they were alive,” Perpetua replied, his voice neutral. “So to me, this is normal.”

Not knowing what to say in response, Copia reluctantly let it go and sat down. Once they were both sitting side-by-side, Copia opened the book. It had deteriorated even more since he had last read it, and he could see that someone had tried to salvage it by using tape on a few pages.

Since neither of them knew what to look for, Copia decided to start from the beginning. They both stayed quiet as they read.

It started out describing the importance of magic and where it came from. It came from different sources of energy, like naturally occurring from the earth, such as plants and animals. It could also be pulled from humans, and while it yielded more powerful, chaotic results, it was also highly dangerous. Humans were volatile in nature; they were all made of the same bare material, yes, but their memories and souls made them unpredictable when it came to using energy for spells and rituals. The stronger their memories or emotions, good or bad, could yield unexpected results, such as injury or death.

Copia swallowed at that. And if the energy their mother had been using was coming from a human source like herself, or even the Papas… it made him feel as though his lunch was going to make a reappearance.

He flipped a page, and he made a surprised noise.

It was in Latin.

Copia quickly but carefully flipped through the rest of the book. The rest of the book was in Latin.

“Well.” He flipped back to the page they had stopped on and slid the book closer to his brother. “Here you go, altar boy. What’s it say?”

Perpetua looked at him, bewildered. “I don’t know Latin.”

“But you were raised Catholic,” Copia reasoned. “All Catholics were taught Latin when they were kids, right?”

“Yeah, if they were born in the 1950s,” Perpetua retorted. “I was only taught a few phrases, and those were for Mass.” He pushed the book in front of Copia. “You were raised in a Satanic church, surely that means you know more Latin than I do.”

“How does my being raised in a Satanic church make me more likely to know Latin? And only the Emerituses were taught it as a child,” Copia replied. Perpetua raised an eyebrow, the gesture still clear even with the mask in the way. “Oh, shut up. I didn’t know I was related to the Emerituses until recently.”

Perpetua groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Our only lead, and it’s a dead end.”

“Do you two need help?”

They both jumped and looked up. Anya was in front of their table with a cart of books. Her goth makeup was immaculate, and her braids were piled on top of her head. Instead of the long skirt that she wore last time Copia had seen her, she was wearing black slacks and priestly robes. She pointed at the book with a perfectly manicured finger.

“I’ve been teaching myself Latin these past few months as a hobby. I can try to read that if you’d like.”

Before he could think about it, Copia nodded and carefully circled the book around so that she could read it. “If you have the time, that would be great, Anya.”

She sat down. “Of course. Just give me a second.”

Perpetua caught Copia’s eyes, the question what are you doing? clear in his eyes. He shrugged helplessly. Anything was better than nothing.

As they waited for Anya to translate, Copia pinched his gloves in anticipation. When he saw his brother doing the same thing, he switched over to pulling at a loose thread on his jacket. He didn’t want to look like he was copying his brother.

“This is a ritual,” Anya suddenly said. She had paused about halfway through the first page. “Called Saecula Saeculorum.”

Copia stiffened, ice running down his back. He heard Perpetua suck in a surprised breath.

Anya raised her head at the sound. “You two know something about it?”

“We didn’t know that it was a ritual,” Perpetua said slowly. He glanced at Copia, unsure if he should say more.

“Look, Anya,” Copia said nervously. “We need you to translate that ritual for us, but we can’t tell you exactly why. It’s too complicated, and we don’t know the full scope of it yet.”

Her eyes narrowed, shadowed by her thick lashes. “Is it dangerous?”

“Maybe?” Copia replied skeptically. “Probably?”

“Maybe? Probably?” She repeated, then shook her head with an amused snort. “Always so concise, Frater. Wait,” she snapped her fingers in realization. “Isn’t that phrase also a lyric in that one song?”

“What song?” Copia and Perpetua asked at the same time, both of them leaning forward.

She glanced between the two of them, her amusement growing at their reactions. “‘Zenith,’” she replied, her pierced brows rising when neither of them recognized it. “From the third Papa?”

It was like a lightning bolt struck him with how hard the words hit him. He remembered the tapping that Terzo had done in the chapel. That rhythm was the one at the beginning of “Zenith.” Copia slapped his forehead. “Terzo! He played that song in the chapel the other day, the beginning of it with the piano!”

“‘The other day?’” Anya echoed. Her mirth quickly switched to confusion. “What do you mean?”

Whoops. Perpetua looked at him, unimpressed by his slip-up. “Anya,” his brother said gently to her. “We appreciate your help so far, but-”

“Your ghouls,” she interrupted, looking down at where they were lying. “Is… is the third Papa one of them?”

Copia could see how her daughter got accepted into an Ivy League school. He sighed. “Yes, and so were the other two Papas. Ow!” He rubbed at his shin where Perpetua had kicked it and glared at him. “She figured it out herself, and she’s able to read that fucking book. Maybe we need some outside help.”

“Fine,” his brother huffed. “But how did you figure it out, Anya?”

“You two both checked out those books about ghouls a few days ago, which you still need to return, might I add. And we all heard about the two of you running around the Ministry trying to find them.” She waved at the ghouls on the ground. “It’s easy to put it together from there.”

“Oh,” Perpetua said dumbly. “I guess it is.”

“Anyways,” she said. “How about that song? Do you two know much about it?”

“It… well, Terzo wrote it in a dream years ago,” Copia said, the memories coming at him in a rush. “I remember him writing it like it was the last thing he’d do. He released it on a special Meliora EP, so only people who were able to buy that edition have heard of it. I honestly can’t remember the last time I listened to it.”

“He wrote it in a dream?” Perpetua asked in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

Copia nodded. “I was his Cardinal at the time, so I was pretty familiar with his music. And he did dream about it; he was up all night in his office trying to write it down. I’m actually surprised I had forgotten all about it, but we were all busy around that time, so the song was set aside after Terzo had recorded it. We didn’t talk about it again.”

“That’s insane,” Anya remarked. She pulled out her phone with excitement, obviously enjoying how this had become a puzzle to solve. “Here, I can play it.”

“Wait!” Copia exclaimed.

The librarian froze. “What’s wrong?”

Copia glanced at the ghouls. He didn’t want to risk any of them having a fit, especially in the presence of a regular Clergy member. If they reacted strongly to Copia’s music, who knew how they’d react to a song that had a connection to them? Perpetua immediately understood and leaned over the table and whispered something to them. Copia couldn’t see them, but he heard a soft trill that made him nearly flinch. He somehow knew that Primo had made that noise.

All three of them watched as the ghouls stood and left, their footsteps eerily quiet. Copia looked to Perpetua, who was sliding a piece of paper into his pocket. He looked like he had tasted something bad, his lips puckered and nose wrinkled. Copia gave the note a pointed look.

“It’s a command Bee left for me to use if I needed them gone. I sent them to the practice chapel.” Perpetua shuddered. “I’ll tell you later.” He nodded to Anya. “You can play that song now, Anya.”

She was still looking in the direction where the ghouls had walked away. When Perpetua said her name again, she quickly turned in her seat. “Huh? Oh!”

Anya tapped on her screen before placing it in the center of the table, the song and lyrics pulled up. She pressed play.

Copia felt chills run across his body right off the bat as he heard the piano. Terzo had been trying to tell him that his song was a clue, and he hadn’t even realized it. How did the man know, despite being in a ghoul’s body? Was there more Papa than ghoul, rather than more ghoul than Papa?

Terzo’s voice came through the phone, and Copia focused on the lyrics. As they listened, Copia remembered that day when Terzo had written it in a frenzy, and how he had adamantly demanded to record it later that week. Did… did he somehow know that they would need it someday? “It will be important.” That’s what he said, wasn’t it?

Perpetua sucked in a breath next to him, and Copia focused on the lyrics.

Now and for always, a perpetual rise

A fall of illusion, your zenith fades into eternity

That… was kind of terrifying.

The longer they listened, the more overwhelmed Copia became. He knew Terzo was a talented lyricist, but this… this was like nothing he had written before. It was complicated, and vague, and introspective. How were they going to decipher it to figure out what it meant? Or was the only clue that they needed from it the name of the ritual? Copia doubted that that was the song’s only purpose.

The chorus played again, and then the guitar break. When the phrase “saecula saeculorum” was chanted, Copia gripped the edge of the table. It didn’t sound like they were listening to it from a tiny phone speaker; it felt as though it was all around them, like someone was speaking to the back of Copia’s head, the words pressed against his ears and muffling everything else. His heart thundered in his chest, so strong it felt like a drum had replaced it. He almost expected a group of hooded figures to appear from the bookshelves, from the shadows around them. Perpetua shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. Even Anya was glancing around uneasily.

Creepy, raspy laughter rang through the phone, much louder than it should’ve been. The three of them jumped in their seats, disturbed. Copia hoped that embellishment came from Terzo’s theatrics and didn’t carry more meaning than that.

Time will soon be gone

Right will turn to wrong

Winds come on strong

So help you God, come unleashed,

You’re set free

The same rhythm at the beginning of the song played again as the song ended. Anya left her phone where it was and stared at it in thought.

“Longest six minutes of my life,” Perpetua muttered.

“That’s what she said,” Copia automatically replied, then braced himself for another kick to the knee for the crude joke, but Perpetua surprised him by chuckling without much humor in it.

“Hold on a second,” Anya said, not even acknowledging the exchange. She stood and disappeared into the bookshelves. Copia hoped she wasn’t already abandoning them despite her words.

Perpetua sighed and rubbed a hand over his mask. “What do you think it meant? That line about ‘your zenith’ or whatever.”

Copia blinked. He could barely remember it as it had been another confusing lyric that left him stumped. “Probably something bad. Like…” he frowned. “Like me dying.”

“Dying? You? Why?” Perpetua asked, a little frantic. Copia appreciated the urgency.

“Well, ‘a perpetual rise,’” he began to explain, working through it as he spoke. “Obviously, that’s about you. Your name is Perpetua, and you’re the new Papa.” And probably the last, he thought to himself, but didn’t say it. It didn’t feel like the right time to bring it up. “And zenith means something that’s at its most successful or most powerful.” He pointed to himself. “My time as Papa is done. And I’m technically at my most powerful right now as Frater. But if it ‘fades,’ then…” he trailed off, the morbidness of it all finally getting to him.

Perpetua was staring at him with wide eyes as if Copia was crazy. “No. I’m not letting that happen. And my name doesn’t have to be tied to its Latin origin; I was named after the saint.”

It was Copia’s turn to stare. “No? What do you mean, no? You can’t just stop death. And why didn’t you change your name after you… you know.” He motioned to Perpetua, hoping his brother understood what he was trying to say.

His twin crossed his arms and leaned against his chair. He tilted his chin up in defiance. “First of all, I’m not letting you fucking die. Not if I can help it. I’m not losing a brother when I just got him. And second of all, I actually like my name; after years of kids bullying me for it, I finally reclaimed it as my own. I grew tired of hating my name on top of everything else about me, and Saint Perpetua stood by her beliefs even though her own father beat her for it. Just like how the world tried to break me for being who I am.”

Copia felt a wave of emotions hit him. It was cathartic seeing Perpetua be so adamant about not wanting any harm to come to Copia. Especially after the rocky start they had. But it also made Copia feel like an even bigger asshole for nearly derailing Perpetua’s life that morning. He rubbed at his chest to loosen up how tight his throat had become.

“Thanks,” he rasped, not able to look his brother in the eye. “For- uh- not wanting me to die. And yeah, you’re right, your name is pretty fucking cool.”

A hand clasped his shoulder. He glanced at Perpetua.

His gaze was still determined but had softened a touch. “We’ll figure this out, Copia. We’ll save them. We have to.”

He nodded. At the sound of wheels being rolled on the hardwood floor, he quickly composed himself by taking in a few deep breaths.

Anya returned with a large whiteboard on wheels and a bag of dry-erase markers. She wheeled it in front of the table before turning to them. As she locked the board in place, Copia couldn’t help but feel like he was a Cardinal again, as though he was about to sit through a lecture.

Once it was set up, she nodded to herself and turned to the two of them. “Alright. I want to help with whatever you two are doing. Give me the rundown.”

“Uh,” Perpetua glanced at Copia, a question in his eyes. “I guess I’m fine with Anya helping us out. Are you?”

Copia nodded. “I’m cool with it.”

At the confirmation, his brother straightened with a nod of his own. He reached over and grabbed a marker out of the bag and began twisting the cap as he explained. Anya wrote down the main points as he did so.

“About… a month and a half ago? I was sent three ghouls to start rehearsing my music. That first rehearsal, I realized they sounded exactly like the previous Papas, so I asked Copia to confirm, and he did.” Copia winced at the reminder of that day. Not his brightest moment, that’s for sure. “After some… disagreements, I decided to keep the ghouls instead of getting new ones, and also because we didn’t have the necessary ingredients for a new summoning. However, in one rehearsal, I decided to play Copia’s music, and they reacted strangely, like the music was causing them pain.”

“Just Frater’s music?” Anya asked.

He nodded.

“Hm. Go on.”

“Last week, Copia and I went to the chapel so that I could show him how they react to his music, but they were gone. That was the first time that they had left the chapel on their own, and we found them in three different places. Primo in the garden at his favorite spot, Secondo at the Emeritus crypt - he was the one who found the words saecula saeculorum carved in the lids of their tombs - and Terzo at an older chapel used for special ceremonies.”

Anya turned her head in disbelief. “Secondo… found that phrase scratched in their tombs?” She whistled. “This is becoming more and more like the podcasts I listen to.”

“Don’t forget the part where we can hear them in our head,” Copia interjected.

“And we can hear them in our head,” Perpetua repeated with a nod.

“How?”

“Papas have a special connection with the ghouls that perform with him,” Copia explained. “We- they - can focus on that bond and locate them. There’s other stuff, too, but it doesn’t really pertain to what we’re talking about.”

Can telepathically talk to ghouls, Anya wrote. “And after that?”

“And then we talked to Bee-“

“Who’s Bee?” Anya asked with a frown. “I’ve never heard of someone with that name.”

“Ghoul specialist. Lives in the basement. Don’t talk to it, it’s an asshole,” Copia replied tersely.

“Alright,” Anya said slowly. She wrote Bee- ghoul specialist/asshole/have to talk to it. “What else?”

“It told us that our half-brothers' souls were transferred into the body of ghouls at the hands of Sister Imperator from a ritual that started forty years ago, and it was somehow completed the night she died.”

“So… last year, then?” She asked as she wrote it on the board. “That’s morbid. I like it. Alright.” She pointed at the phone on the table. “Papa, could you read me the lyrics? I’m going to write those down, too.”

Perpetua took the phone and did so. Anya wrote them on the left side of the board in neat, concise handwriting. She then drew two lines to separate the lyrics, recent events, and wrote saecula saeculorum in the third column.

“Frater, I’m going to read out the ritual, and you write it down, alright? Maybe we can see if there are similarities between the two.”

Thank Lucifer for librarians. Copia stood and grabbed a blue marker. “Alright.”

Anya sat down in front of the book and began to read.

“Forever and ever,” Anya said. “Is one of mankind’s biggest wishes. Life everlasting in the form of legends, mysteries, and stories. But many desire more than stories to secure their eternity. This ritual guarantees that.”

“But the cost is great. This calls for the breaking of humanity’s best-kept promise: Death. It is a cycle that has been turning since life began: beginning, middle, and ending. To take one out of the equation would disrupt the natural order. And so, the cost of a human life is just that: a human life.”

“Time holds this cycle together. When this ritual is performed, you are stopping time. The soul will not progress naturally. It will be stuck in limbo. Those involved will not experience life any differently, but their connection to you, the caster, will be great. You will be intertwined for as long as this ritual is in place until the price has been paid.”

Copia swallowed hard but dutifully wrote down what Anya was saying. He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but the room had become much chillier.

“Many use this ritual for themselves if they know death is near, or if a loved one is in peril. If done correctly, this ritual will yield these exact results: stopping Death in its path by guaranteeing its payment will be given at a later time. This can be done in several ways, as death is not picky, but it is recommended to have a human ready on hand to kill. The ritual will not be complete until the death that was thwarted is satisfied by another. In the meantime, you must feed the ritual with your natural energy or you risk severing the connection. In short, your energy will be keeping your subject or subjects alive.”

“You may feed it in many ways: the strength from your motive as to why you began this ritual, the love you may feel for yourself or your subject, or the opposite: your hatred and anger. Anything, but it must be strong enough to last.”

“You must know the great risks of performing this ritual. As stated in this book, the natural energy from humans is greatly impacted by our emotions and thoughts, our memories, and burdens. Anger, hate, desire, loathing, doubt, fear, cowardice, and denial are just a few reasons why many seek this ritual. This ritual feeds on those notions. The stronger, the better. The more subjects needed to stall death, the more chaotic the results, as your soul will be split amongst the subjects to keep them alive. The longer the connection is sustained, the more volatile the souls will be. If the risks are worth it, you may proceed.”

Anya flopped back against the chair with a huge sigh. “That’s it.”

Copia had stopped writing a long time ago, too overwhelmed to keep track of what to note as important. Perpetua’s face had gone ghastly pale, his eyes wide under his mask.

“For forty years….” Perpetua whispered. “Why did she do it?”

Anya turned to the board. “What- you didn’t write any of that down?” Then she seemed to remember who she was talking to and backtracked. “Uh- sorry, Frater.”

Copia waved her off. Her slip-up was the least concerning thing right now. “It’s fine, Anya. And no, not everything. It just started getting… overwhelming. Is it not bothering you at all what you just read?”

She stood and gently took the marker out of Copia’s hand. “How about you sit down, and I’ll write the rest down. And yes, it is disturbing and morbid, but I’m tucking those feelings away for now. There’s a problem in front of us that needs solving, and we need a clear mind. It’s a skill you learn after years of being a single mom.”

He couldn’t help but feel bad as she began writing once again, but the moment he sat down next to Perpetua, his brother stiffened. “What if it had something to do with our birth?”

Anya stopped writing the ritual and instead crouched to write in the bottom right corner, “motive for ritual: birth.”

“Keep going,” she encouraged him.

“It was a ritual that started at least forty years ago, right? We’re in our early forties, so it lines up.” He turned to Copia. “Do you know anything about Sister’s pregnancy or when she gave birth to us? Are there any records we can look at?”

“I don’t know anything, no. I don’t even know if she gave birth here at the Ministry or somewhere else. In all the years I knew her, she didn’t say a word about her past or how she came to be Sister Imperator.” Saying those words out loud stung Copia in a way he wasn’t expecting. Their mother, whom he had known his entire life, and he didn’t know a single thing about her.

His unhelpful response didn’t dim Perpetua’s determination. “Still, we can try to contact the Ministry’s nurse for any records,” he said with a nod.

“Following that idea,” Anya said. “If Sister determined that she needed this ritual, a ritual about stopping death…”

“Then that must mean that Perpetua and I were close to death when she was pregnant!” Copia exclaimed, his mind finally working. “Hers, too, if she used the three Papas as a substitute for the three of us…” he trailed off, his momentum immediately dying as soon as it began.

What were they even talking about right now? Their mother used a black magic ritual to stop them from dying at childbirth and it involved the Emerituses, who were only children at the time, to save the lives of herself and her two babies. And she lived with that knowledge for nearly her entire life, working and assisting the men whom she knew she would eventually kill.

Their brothers’ days were numbered since childhood. Dead men walking the halls of the Ministry and performing for Ghost. Men whom he had respected, cared for, and admired. Nausea made his stomach clench and his throat burn. Fuck, they really were killed for his gain, so that he could take their spot as Papa. If he had never been born, then they would still be alive.

His breath quickened, and his fingertips tingled with numbness. He knew he was letting his emotions get the better of him, but he couldn’t help it. It felt as though he was disconnecting from his body, his sense of the world around him rapidly disappearing.

A distant touch at his shoulder, and he heard Anya’s faraway voice ask, “Frater? Are you alright?”

He flinched away. Nobody should call him that; he didn’t deserve that title. He despised that title. “Frater Imperator” was a title soaked in blood, just like “Sister Imperator” was, just like “Papa Emeritus IV” and “Cardinal Copia.” Is that why they hated Copia’s music? Because they knew he was at fault for their deaths, even though it was under Sister and Nihil’s order?

Did they remember?

The thought made him scramble to his feet. His vision had narrowed as though he were looking through a straw, his chest so tight that it felt like every breath would make his heart burst. He didn’t look back as he stumbled from the table, from that fucking book, to get away from the echoes of that song that lingered in his head.

Bookshelf after bookshelf passed him. They blurred together as he nearly ran through the library until he found a secluded corner bathed in shadows. He wedged himself against the wall and wrapped his arms around himself, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He couldn’t breathe. All he could manage were quick, shaky gasps that barely made its way into his lungs. He felt clammy, and he ripped his gloves off when he noticed how damp they were with sweat. Doom overrode every logical thought, every notion. He was going to die right here, in this musty corner somewhere deep in the library. And maybe he deserved that, a feeble justice for all his transgressions against his four brothers. Maybe then, in the ninth ring of Hell, he could find atonement for what his life had cost everyone.

—

Perpetua watched his brother stumble from their table. He barely had the thought that maybe he should leave alone when he found himself standing and following. He quickly lost Copia among the bookshelves, his brother quick as though death was on his heels.

But he didn’t let that stop him. He didn’t halt his search even when the minutes dragged on, even when he stumbled on Siblings going about their business, startled at first at the sight of a huffing Papa but quick to greet him. He sidestepped them with a hurried apology and was searching the next bookshelf before they could say another word. He had the idea of using his walkie to find him, but he dismissed the idea. Who knew if Copia would even answer or if someone would follow the noise and find Copia in his distressed state of mind.

It took longer than he’d have liked, but Perpetua found his brother. Squeezed into a dark, dusty corner, his knees tucked against him and his face buried in his bare hands. It was almost exactly like that day when they had first discovered their brothers were now ghouls, when Copia had slid to the bathroom floor in a panic, his eyes closed as he re-imagined a horror only he knew.

Unlike that day, Perpetua didn’t hesitate to sit next to Copia, to press his shoulder against his brother in a silent vow to remain by his side as his brother shook through his panic. It’s what he would’ve liked, and so he gave Copia that same courtesy.

Copia didn’t say anything, but he did shift his weight against Perpetua. His fingers dug into his face, his gasps muffled against his palms. Perpetua worried that his brother couldn’t breathe, but he also didn’t try to pry his hands away, worried that his touch would cause Copia’s panic to worsen. He had come across a few people with panic attacks during his time at the Catholic Church, but he didn’t know how to approach Copia’s situation. He could see his brother lashing out or taking off again.

So he talked.

“When I was a kid, at night I used to sneak into the crawl spaces of the orphanage and go up to the attic, and I’d open the window and watch the stars. It was like time would stop for hours and hours. The stars were so bright and clear. Every night I’d be surprised by how many stars there were, and I’d even try counting them, but I never got past two hundred before I’d lose track.”

“One night, there was a visitor. A bat. It flew in through the window and had a hard time finding its way out. It kept flying around the wooden beams and squeaking. The amount of noise I made that night trying to get it out was enough to have woken everyone sleeping, but nobody noticed. All I did was try to steer it out with an old broom, but I think I frightened it more than anything. By the time it left, the sky was turning blue from the sun, which was way longer than I had ever stayed up before. I remember that day I kept falling asleep during class, and the nun who was teaching it - her name was Sister Elizabeth- whacked me on my shoulders whenever I dozed off with a ruler so many times it drew blood.”

“But the bat came back the next night, except this time it didn’t fly around the attic in a panic. Instead, it hung from a beam above me in between its hunts. I lay underneath it whenever I had the chance, and we’d just stare at each other. I started talking to it, and I named it Felicity, as she was someone who was a close friend to Saint Perpetua, and I thought it was fitting. I don’t even know if it was male or female; I tried to do research with what little books we had, but couldn’t find anything specific.”

It was then that he noticed Copia was no longer shaking and had crossed his arms over his knees with his forehead resting on them. He still didn’t say anything, but Perpetua figured he was listening.

“And that’s how it was for weeks. It was probably the most relaxing time of my childhood, those nights with Felicity. It was just a bat, yes, but it was my friend. My only friend. It didn’t judge me for being quiet and timid, nor did it make fun of me when I would try on the spare clothing for boys that I found in an old box. It just listened to me talk for hours. Sometimes I would imagine it biting me, and I’d turn into a little brown bat just like it, and we’d fly away into the night together.”

“It all ended one night. It flew into the attic like it always did, but it kept going back and forth, like it was trying to tell me something. I snuck out for the first and last time, and it led me to the woods nearby and into a hollow cave on the mountainside. There was a whole colony of them. This was in September by this point. Now that I’m older, I think it was showing me where they were going to hibernate. I don’t know why it showed me. Maybe it considered me a friend as much as I did, but it never came back to the orphanage after that. I don’t know how many nights I spent crying with the window open, waiting for Felicity to return. I had even gone back to that cave the next summer, but it was empty. I didn’t learn that bats migrate in the spring until I was an adult. I think Felicity found a better home, far away from the orphanage, like I had always said I would.”

He fell silent. His mouth and throat were dry from how much he had talked. When he glanced at Copia, he saw that his brother had turned his head slightly, his green eye staring at him. It didn’t look like he had cried as his paint was still in place and his gaze was clear.

“Vampetua,” Copia mumbled into his arm.

Perpetua blinked at him, then scowled. “Vampetua? Seriously?”

Copia raised his head, and Perpetua felt a drop of relief warm his body when he saw a grin on his brother’s face. “Yeah. Vampetua. Or would you prefer Nosferatua?”

“That’s pushing it. What if I called you Dracopia, huh?” He snickered at Copia’s disgusted face.

“Don’t call me that ever again. That was horrendous.”

“As long as you don’t call me 'Vampetua,” Dracopia.”

Copia shoved him with his shoulder, and Perpetua caught himself with a hand on the ground, his laughter growing into a cackle. Copia, still coming down from his breakdown, only managed a chuckle that didn’t last long.

“Do you… do you think it’s our fault, Perpetua? What happened to the Papas?”

Right. That’s what started all of this. He took a moment to think. “I really don’t think it is, Copia. It’s not like we had a choice to be conceived or born. And if our mother decided we were worth the sacrifice of our half-brothers, then it was her decision. If I’m being honest, it’s hard for me to feel responsible for what happened to them. Maybe it’s because I didn’t know the Papas or our mother, and I wasn’t here when they were killed, but like I said, that choice to live was made for us. Maybe… maybe we should try making the most out of it.”

Copia didn’t reply. He had gone back to leaning against Perpetua and was staring up at the ceiling, his face unreadable.

“You’re a good man, Copia,” Perpetua insisted. “Your circumstances may say otherwise, but the hard work you’ve done for the Ministry and Ghost speaks for itself. Many people respect and admire you, from fans of Ghost to our followers here. And I’m glad that you’re here with me, as Frater Imperator and as my brother.” Not liking how Copia’s eyes were growing distant as he retreated into his mind, he reached out and grabbed Copia’s hand on his knee. Copia looked at him in muted surprise.

“I forgive you, Copia, for how you treated me these past few months. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt me, but I understand your circumstances a little more. We’ve both been through hardships, and you’ve shown me you’re willing to put it behind you and start over.” He squeezed his hand. “That’s the only way to move forward. And I want to put all of that past us, I really do. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks at most since we’ve made up, but I think if we’re going to do our best to save the Papas, we have to move on.”

A watery sigh came from Copia as he closed his eyes. “I thought we promised we wouldn’t have any more emotional talks,” Copia mumbled.

“We broke that promise… what, yesterday?” Perpetua snorted. “Maybe we should just have a heart-to-heart every day now, just to get it out of the way.” He made to pull his hand away, but Copia gripped it just a bit tighter.

“I am trying to do better,” Copia murmured softly. “For you, for them, for me. It’s just so fucking hard when all I can remember are the shitty parts of my life. It feels like the people who are supposed to support me are just letting me fuck up left and right.”

“Well… last night was good, right? We had a nice time at that diner, and the drive home was fun,” Perpetua said, an attempt to remind Copia of something worthwhile. And if Perpetua was being honest with himself, it had been one of the most peaceful evenings he had in a long time. It had felt like a dream: the classic ‘90s diner with the jukebox playing a grungy rock song, huge burgers and even bigger milkshakes in front of them that they devoured.

He had noticed how Copia liked strong flavors, from how he had snatched his pickles from his plate and ate them one by one, or dumped more salt on his fries. Copia had flirted with the waitress with his chin propped up on his hand, his eyes bright and his grin inviting.

Copia liked pop music and, even though he had a beautiful voice, sang off tune on purpose while listening to the radio. He righted his Cardinal plush when it had toppled over after a tight right turn and had pointed at it and said, “That’s Plushia, just so you know. You may be Papa, but I’m the proud father of two plushies. And I take that seriously.” Perpetua had laughed until he noticed that Copia really was serious. He then told Copia he didn’t know they could make plushies that ugly and had turned up the radio when Copia began shouting at him about his “sons.”

He also knew that Copia, despite how awkward he could be at times, really was trying to do better. A better brother, a better boss, a better person. Perpetua greatly admired Copia’s commitment. It took a lot of courage and self-reflection to admit that, something that not even the most humble priest that Perpetua had known would have done. It made Perpetua want to try harder to improve as Papa and as a brother.

But instead of replying to Perpetua, Copia let go of his hand and slapped his hands against his cheeks. Perpetua winced at how loud it was in their corner, the sound bouncing off the walls and into the library.

“No more running,” Copia murmured to himself. He turned to Perpetua and pointed at him, his cheeks reddening as he spoke.“If we’re going to be researching nearly every day, then we have to set aside time for ourselves, just like we did yesterday. Being Frater, running this place, and planning your tour on top of figuring this shit out is going to drive me crazy if I can’t get a break.”

Perpetua nodded. He could see how beneficial that could be for them, especially Copia. And he was looking forward to spending more time with his brother. “Alright. We can do that.”

His brother glanced away. “And thanks for finding me. And for talking me down.” He sighed. “Probably won’t be the last time.”

“With what we’re getting into? Probably not,” Perpetua agreed. His own baggage was still there in the back of his mind, ready to be zipped open and unpacked any moment. “One thing at a time, though. We should head back to Anya.”

Copia gathered his gloves and dusted them off before slipping them on. Perpetua sneezed when he got a face full of dust.

His brother narrowed his eyes at him. “You even sound like a bat when you sneeze,” Copia muttered in thought. “Are you sure you’re not a vampire?”

“I sneeze like a man!” Perpetua protested. “And I think I’d know if I was a vampire.”

“You’re pale, you wear that mask to hide from the sun, and you can speak to bats,” Copia rambled, listing them off on his fingers. “That’s vampire behavior to me, man.”

“I told you about how I was so lonely I befriended a bat, and that’s what you got out of it?” Perpetua asked as he led them back to their table.

“What do you want me to say? ‘Oh, poor Perpetua, so lonely, so sad,’ Copia mocked with an exaggerated frown. He wiped at his eyes as though brushing tears away.

“Fuck off,” Perpetua said without any heat in it. Copia snickered in response.

He kept a close eye on his brother as they walked. Copia still had a haunted look in his eyes, but it wasn’t as present as before. His back was straight, and his shoulders squared off. He seemed more focused. Perpetua hoped that it would be enough for now.

When they found their table, they saw that Anya had written the rest of the ritual on the board. She was flipping through the book and looked up when the two of them approached.

Her eyes roved over both of them. Perpetua saw her try to stifle a grin when she noticed how they were both trying to inconspicuously brush dust from their pants.

“I think you two should call it a day,” she suggested. “I can put our notes in the backroom to keep them safe and so that nobody can see them. And I’ll make sure to keep this book with it. It hasn’t been checked out in years, so I don’t think anyone will need it anytime soon.”

Copia’s shoulders sagged in relief, his false bravado evaporating. “Oh, thank fuck. I’m sorry that we left you here, Anya, and that we didn’t get very far today.” The librarian shrugged. “It’s fine, Frater. I can’t imagine how hard this is for the two of you to work through. And I should be thanking you two for allowing me to help. As much as I love working here, it can get pretty boring at times, so I’m looking forward to working it out. And,” she perked up with a smile. “Not thinking about how fucked up it all is, this whole situation is right up my alley. Creepy ghouls, magic, the mystery of it all, it’s so interesting!” Sensing how her excitement was getting the best of her again, she cringed. “Sorry. Not appropriate.”

“It’s fine, Anya,” Perpetua replied. “We still appreciate your help. We need someone’s perspective that isn’t emotionally invested in this like we are.”

“I’ll try my best,” Anya promised, then stood and began clearing off the table.

He glanced at his watch. “I have to go and check on the ghouls before meeting with some Cardinals. Do you want to come with?” He asked Copia.

Copia shook his head. “I should wrap up what I was working on this morning. Are you going to practice at the chapel later?” Perpetua nodded. “Let me know when and I’ll meet you there. As much as I don’t want to see it, maybe you can show me how they react to my music, and we can try Nihil’s, too.”

“Sounds good.”

Being in less of a hurry than Perpetua, Copia stayed behind to help Anya clean up, him rolling the whiteboard away as Anya carried the book and bag of markers. As Perpetua looked over their table one last time in case they missed something, a flash of movement caught his eye. He saw what looked like a top hat disappear into the shadow under the table, like rapidly melting ice turning into a puddle of water. It happened so quickly that in the blink of an eye, it was gone. A ghoul?

Excluding Terzo, only three ghouls in the Ministry wore top hats, all being Perpetua’s. And out of his ghouls, only one of them fit the bill for being able to slip in and out of shadows.

The drummer ghoul.

What had it been doing under the table? Did it usually follow Perpetua around the Ministry? If so, why?

He turned to leave, but a sudden thought made him freeze in place. What if the reason why he was never able to locate the drummer ghoul was because the ghoul didn’t belong to him, but to someone else? Namely, the two people who had summoned it in the first place.

The Psaltarians.

Chapter 12: If you had life eternal?

Notes:

TW: self-harm and gore

Things get very heavy in this chapter! For the self-harm portion, it starts at "Darkness enveloped him" and ends at "The unexpected pain." Please don't read if you aren't in a good headspace!!

I mighttt change the title of this chapter idk yet :) OH ALSO special thanks to insecthusbrandry on Tumblr for looking over this chapter to assure me once again that things are making sense :3

I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr!

Perpetua didn’t pay any attention to the Cardinals in front of him. Instead, he counted the thorns on Jesus’ head.

Someone, at some point, had decided that a painting that depicted Jesus having his crown of thorns bestowed on him was an appropriate piece of art to place in a simple conference room. Perpetua easily recognized it as he had seen it countless times at his old church. He could see it in his mind’s eye: a large, golden-framed painting that was probably bought online. It was next to the doorway of the director of music, his former boss. What a beautiful piece of art to place in such a mundane location. It always struck Perpetua how odd it was that Christians and Catholics loved the macabre of Jesus’ suffering. Maybe it was just pain in general that they liked, as they loved to inflict it on others as well.

His mind fixated on the uneven points that haloed his old savior. A mockery of a crown that was placed on a man who claimed to be king. Perpetua sometimes wondered what it would feel like to have that crown jabbed into his own scalp. The heat of his blood running down his face. The slow, agonizing pain of each thorn digging into his skull. Would he still ask for redemption of those at his feet? Could he accept the burdens of the world and not beg for retribution? Some said the thorns represented salvation and triumph for all. That always seemed unfair to Perpetua. He had never felt saved a day in his life, and yet he lived in a world where the self-vindicated strutted with heads held high behind altars. What made them better than him in the eyes of God? If Jesus died for everyone, past, present, and future, then why did he suffer more hardships than them? Why did God equate love to hate, joy to misery, peace to war?

“Papa?”

He blinked and then blushed when he noticed how he had been staring at the Cardinal in front of him as he was lost in thought. A kind, older man named Cardinal Aristotle, or Aris. He was Perpetua’s preferred Cardinal as he had a very calm demeanor despite his large stature.

“Are you with us, Papa?” Cardinal Aris asked, his eyes concerned. He brushed aside a stray loc with a ringed finger.

“I - yes! Yes, I am, I apologize,” Perpetua said quickly. “Long morning, I guess. We were discussing my contract, correct?”

Cardinal Aris nodded and motioned to the small stack of papers between Perpetua and the three Cardinals. “Yes. Mrs. Psaltarian has already gone through it and found it acceptable.” Perpetua picked it up and began reading through it. To him, it was a lot of gibberish. Technical terms that he wasn’t familiar with at all. He went to the last page and saw that it included how long he would be Papa.

“Indefinitely?” Perpetua read aloud. He looked up at the three men. “What does that mean? That I’m Papa ‘indefinitely?’ Isn’t there supposed to be someone else after me?”

“Well…” the Cardinal to the right began. He had been made Cardinal around the same time that Perpetua became Papa. A short man who seemed like a dwarf next to Cardinal Aris, whose name was Cardinal John. “That’s what we’re here to discuss. You will be the last Papa, at least for as long as you live.”

Perpetua blanched. He hadn’t signed up for that when he accepted the papacy. “As in… after me, there will be no other Papas?”

“Not exactly. After Sister Imperator’s death, and having Frater Imperator be the frontman for Ghost both as a Cardinal and as Papa, it was decided that it would be more practical to have one Papa who would lead until his death. After that, the next Papa will be determined, whether it be biologically or if you find a suitable heir before you pass.”

He never knew what he wanted out of life. Before the papacy was ever introduced to him, he didn’t have bright plans for his future. It was hard to find purpose in life when you were forty-three years old and had been living the same life for over ten years. And now he was leading a Satanic Church and was going to perform as the singer for a rapidly growing rock band to spread the word of Satan. He thought it was going to be just one or two tours, just one album that he would have to dedicate everything he had to, and now he was being told that this was going to be the rest of his life.

“How will that work once I’m older? I can’t be expected to perform twenty years from now.”

“Who knows where Ghost will be by then?” The third Cardinal asked. Cardinal Sebastian was his name. He was a brash man who didn’t like Perpetua. He was the oldest, his face gaunt and wrinkled. Apparently, he was a close friend to Papa Nihil and had been the most vocal in his dissent about Copia’s ascension into the papacy, something he still showed his displeasure at, even after Copia was proven to be an Emeritus. And it seemed he had the same sentiment for Perpetua. “Maybe by then we won’t need it anymore and we can go back to doing things the right way.”

Perpetua didn’t know what to say to that, as he barely knew how to do things the wrong way. He resisted the urge to shrink into his chair at the glare Cardinal Sebastian sent his way. It reminded him far too much of the nasty looks he would get from older church staff only a few months ago when he was a man of God.

What would Copia say? Matter of fact, what did Copia think about Perpetua being the only Papa from here on out? With that in mind, he ignored Cardinal Sebastian and asked the other two, “Did Frater agree to this as well?”

“He did,” Cardinal John confirmed. “This morning.” Perpetua gripped the papers in his hand a little tighter. The Cardinal glanced down at the wrinkled contract. His eyebrows creased. “Is this not acceptable, Papa?”

“It’s….” Is this seriously what his life was going to be? Ghost, leading the Ministry, being an example to followers for the rest of his days? He didn’t even have an entire album yet, much less perform in anyone larger than a classroom of teenagers. Honestly, he was surprised nobody else was echoing Cardinal Sebastian’s disapproval. They were asking too much of someone who came from… nothing, really.

Why did Copia make the choice for him? Barely a couple of weeks ago, he couldn’t stand being in the same room as Perpetua, and now they were on good terms. Great terms, even. Did his twin brother gather that much faith in him in such a short time? Or was it because Copia didn’t have a choice, either? He seemed fine earlier and didn’t become upset until they began hashing out the details of their brothers’ fates.

He could also be overthinking all of this. Maybe Copia didn’t read the contract and had just blindly approved it, assuming that it was the same as past contracts. But it still boiled down to one question: could Perpetua really handle the responsibility of an entire organization and lead a steadily growing rock band across a world tour?

The answer made him nauseous.

No. No, he couldn’t. But he didn’t have any other choice, did he?

“If Frater and Mrs. Psaltarian have already agreed,” Perpetua slowly said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “Then I accept.”

He signed the contract and handed it to Cardinal Aris, who slid it into a folder. Perpetua raised a hand to his head and ran it over his mask and his hair. Smooth. Painless. Not a thorn to be felt.

His eyes met the man in the painting one last time. Would he allow this to be a time of torment? Or would he accept this burden as his salvation? For the first time in a very, very long time, he longed to sink to his knees and pray. But to which god? And would they answer his prayers?

—

The meeting wrapped up soon after that. He hoped he didn’t seem too eager to be out of there, but he knew his exit was too quick to be appropriate. The latter half of the meeting had been suffocating.

As he made his way to the practice chapel, he pushed aside all thoughts of the papacy. He would need to be ready for any surprises the ghouls had for him and Copia during rehearsals.

The ghouls, like usual, had been waiting for him outside his apartment this morning. The only difference was that there was a note stapled to Primo’s chest. He made a mental note to ask Bee to please treat his brothers with a little more respect.

Bee had noted that there were no other irregularities he could find. The note also contained a small spell that Perpetua could use to banish the ghouls from his side for a short time, but it would make him nauseous as he was a first-time magic user. Perpetua hadn’t thought it would work, but it did, and he had indeed felt nauseous for a few minutes.

He had quickly checked on them in the chapel after the small research session in the library to make sure they were accounted for before his appointment with the Cardinals. The drummer ghoul was there, and he had shivered with unease when the ghoul looked his way when he had popped his head into the door.

He turned the corner and saw Copia leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and looking up at the ceiling, a frown on his face. At the sound of Perpetua’s footsteps, he turned his head and waved.

“Hey. I didn't want to go in there alone ‘cuz they just stare at me. Also,” he added as Perpetua opened the door and the two stepped into the room. “I was talking to Anya, and we thought it would be best if we spent our lunch breaks researching in the library. How does that sound?”

“Sounds fine,” Perpetua agreed as he scanned the room. “The sooner we figure out what’s going on, the better.”

The ghouls were still in place. Primo with a black and white bass, Secondo with a sleek black and green guitar, Terzo behind a keyboard, and the fourth ghoul at the drums. He stared at the ghoul for a few moments. Who do you belong to? He thought. Me, or the Psaltarians? He shook his head to clear his mind.

“So,” Perpetua said as he rolled his sleeves up and grabbed the packet of music from its customary stool. “You wanted us to practice Nihil’s music?”

“Yeah,” Copia said, his voice farther than Perpetua expected. Perpetua looked over and couldn’t help but be slightly amused at how Copia had placed himself a few pews away and at the edge, ready to make a quick getaway if needed. He couldn’t blame his brother for being nervous, but it was still a little funny to see.

Perpetua handed sheets of music out to the ghouls and looked over his own. He had decided on “The Future is a Foreign Land.” It was the song he was most familiar with, as he had listened to it on his own a few times. He didn’t know who, or what, Papa Nihil had been referring to when he wrote this song, but Perpetua was familiar enough with the rumors surrounding Sister Imperator and the former Papa to know that there was a good chance the song was for her. Either way, he appreciated the message behind the song and how it cautiously hoped for a better future.

Once they were ready, he grabbed a mic and angled himself so that he could keep an eye on all four of the ghouls. It was easy to grab hold of the connection between the three ghouls with how often he had done it to this point. As they started the song, he made sure to keep a closer eye on the drummer ghoul, as it was the only one he couldn’t feel in his head, unlike the other three.

Compared to the studio recording, It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough. He forced himself to focus as he sang, not to get lost in the lyrics. But as the chorus arrived, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander as he stared at the ghouls. Did his brothers have anyone special in their lives? A lover? Close friends? Anyone they could dedicate this song to? Or were they lonely like Perpetua? He almost snorted at the thought. The idea of any of the Papas lacking in love of any sort was laughable.

Nothing happened. They played through the entire song with ease. Nobody twitched out of place, there were no growls or snarls or breaking of instruments. When the last note faded, Perpetua sighed in relief so loudly the sound was caught on the microphone.

“Well,” Copia said. Perpetua turned and saw his brother gripping the pew in front of him. “That was - uh - you did great! Really good stuff.”

He flushed. Right. This was Copia’s first time seeing Perpetua perform. He hadn’t even thought of that as he was too caught up in the ghouls’ potential reactions.

“Thanks,” Perpetua said and quickly placed his mic back on the stand. He didn’t know why he was embarrassed; he had performed countless times in front of crowds, both big and small, at his old church. But he knew this was different. It was his twin brother who was an exceptionally talented musician. The bar was high, and he hoped he had exceeded it in some measure.

“So it seems like it really is just your music that they don’t like,” Perpetua observed as he studied the ghouls. They fiddled with their instruments and chirped at each other. He watched as Terzo bared his teeth at Primo, his teeth hard to spot behind his silver mask.

“Fuckin’ weirdos,” Copia grumbled. “Whatever. They sound the same, don’t you think?” He asked. “You can still hear them in their voices. The Papas, I mean. Honestly, it sounds creepy as hell with you in the middle of it all.”

Perpetua frowned, a little hurt. “Is that a bad thing?”

Copia realized how his previous statement sounded and waved his hands as though he was trying to clear the air. “No! No, it’s not. It just sounds unnatural, is all. Like four Papas singing at once. But you do sound great. I can tell you’ve trained your voice pretty well. Being a choir teacher paid off, hm?”

“Oh.” Perpetua relaxed slightly. “I’ve gotten so used to them that I never noticed how it might sound to others. And yes, it did. I learned a lot both during college and while I was a teacher.”

His brother nodded and leaned forward so that he was propped up on the back of the pew in front of him. “So - uh - are we still going to have them try out one of my songs? Do you think that’s still necessary?”

He thought about it. That was the original plan a few days ago, but now it seemed redundant. The idea of subjecting their brothers to a few minutes of pain just to show Copia their reaction to his music made him feel bad. But maybe it would still be a good idea. Would they react differently with Copia in the room? Maybe his presence would calm them instead of aggravating them.

“I think it’s worth a shot. You choose the song,” he said to Copia.

“Hm.” Copia drummed his hands against the back of the pew in front of him. “How about ‘Helvetesfönster?’ No, wait, 'Life Eternal.’”

“Why that one?” Perpetua asked as he went over to the filing cabinet of music sheets and shuffled through. Once he found it, he looked it over. There was only a bass, piano, drums, and vibraphone. He decided to have Secondo sit this one out and moved Terzo to the vibraphone while he played the piano.

“Feels appropriate,” Copia replied.

“How so?” He asked as he handed out the music sheets to the ghouls to look over.

Copia waved a gloved hand. “Something about death, something about living forever. It’s practically perfect for them.”

Perpetua couldn’t argue with that. Once they were in place and Secondo was standing near the piano, he placed the microphone next to the piano and angled the mic closer to his face. He propped open the lid on the large, black instrument and re-familiarized himself with the keys.

“You play the piano?” He heard Copia ask. He had to crane his neck around the instrument to see him.

“I taught myself both piano and the guitar for college,” he explained. It had been a few months since he was behind a piano, but it came back to him like riding a bike. He fiddled with it as he asked, “What does ‘Helvetesfönster’ mean, anyway?”

“Side boob,” Copia replied cheerfully.

Perpetua looked up at his brother. “Seriously? You’re not messing with me?”

“I’ve never been more serious about something in my entire life,” Copia promised. “But yeah, it’s the Swedish word for ‘Hell window.’ In the Middle Ages, women would wear long dresses with openings at the sides so you could see their breasts. If a man looked at them sinfully it would basically damn their souls to Hell.” His brother tilted his head back with a grin. “I was actually quite proud of myself for coming up with that one.”

Perpetua shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I think you mean ‘unbelievably talented.’”

Instead of replying, Perpetua grabbed hold of the link between him and the ghouls, placed his hands on the piano, and began to sing.

It really was a beautiful song. What drove someone like Copia to write about it? Was he simply afraid of death? Was it about their brothers’ demise? He suddenly wanted to ask Copia more about what this song meant to him. But as he heard the ghouls begin the backup vocals and chime in with their own instruments, he found himself thinking of what they had learned from the ritual. Like Copia said, their brothers had achieved life eternal in a twisted way. But by whose wishes: theirs, or Sister's?

“This is the moment of just letting go,” she said

If you had life eternal

“Shit!”

His fingers fumbled with the notes as he jerked his head up. It was Copia. He was clutching his head with his eyes squeezed shut as he cursed.

“Copia?” He asked as he stood up from the piano bench. “Are you-”

A snarl to his right, along with the sound of high-pitched notes being smashed. He turned and saw Terzo had fallen over the vibraphone as he twitched and shook. The music fell apart around him as one by one the ghouls, except for that damn drummer, succumbed to Copia’s music.

He backed away from Secondo, who had fallen to his knees and was tearing at his jaw, a keen falling out of a mouth that was opened too wide. A few feet away from him, Primo tore the bass away from his body, the strap snapping, and the instrument fell to the floor with a thud. He grabbed at his head and shook it violently. The top hat flew off his head, revealing a smooth, black scalp.

There was a cry of pain, and Perpetua turned and saw Copia had fallen to his knees behind the pew. He ran towards him and found him bowed over as though in prayer, his hands buried in his hair.

“I’m sorry!” Copia sobbed. His gloves were the only thing protecting his hair and skin as he scratched at his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t- stop-”

“Copia!” He cried. He grabbed his brother’s arm and tried to pull him to his feet. “We have to leave! The ghouls-“

Crack!

He flinched at the sound and looked over his shoulder. The sight made him freeze with icy fear.

Wings, black and leathery, had exploded out of Terzo’s back. He was whining and scrabbling at the instrument underneath him as thick, viscous fluid dripped from the large appendages that drooped to the ground. The bones were ridged with silver in the shape of metacarpal bones. Even from the back of the chapel, Perpetua could see the mess of meat that had become his brother’s poor back.

Another cracking noise, one after the other, came from Secondo as he toppled over. Shiny silver teeth, too big for his mouth and too sharp to be normal for a ghoul, had begun sprouting from his gums. That same thick fluid leaked out of his mouth as he lay on his side, panting and shaking. His jaw was opened wide, too wide, to allow space for them as they grew out jagged and mismatched.

And Primo, who had collapsed to his knees, shrieked as two horns slowly, and no doubt painfully, popped out of his skull and curled inwards like the horns of a ram. They were that same metallic silver and covered in black fluid that dripped down his face. He curled into himself with a whine, his hands shaking as they gripped the base of the horns.

“They’re finally quiet,” Copia whispered in his arms. Perpetua looked down at him in a daze.

“What?” He breathed, his lips barely moving. It was then that he noticed Copia’s white eye had gone red with blood. A drop, like a tear, leaked out of the corner of his eye and left a red trail in its wake as it slid down Copia’s face.

“They were so loud, Perpetua, and in so much pain,” Copia murmured. His eyes drooped close. “But they’re quiet now…”

Panic overrode everything. He hauled Copia to his feet and dragged him out of the room, his brother barely able to support himself as he drifted in and out of consciousness. The ghouls were an afterthought as he tried to remember where the infirmary was, if it was closer to the main chapel or the cafeteria, when he heard a shout down the hall. He almost shielded Copia away from the person as they approached, a bone-deep fear that Copia was going to be in more danger.

It was Mrs. Psaltarian. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide as she approached them.

“What happened?” She asked as she took hold of Copia’s other side.

He was so surprised to see her that it took him a moment to gather the words to speak. “It’s - it’s the ghouls,” he stammered out. “They transformed when we were playing a song.”

She cursed in a language Perpetua couldn’t place. “Come,” she took one step, then another as Perpetua slowly matched her pace. “Let’s get him to the infirmary.”

She led them to the nurses' bay, which was actually a few hallways away. Small blessings, Perpetua figured in his half-crazed mind.

They burst into the room, causing the two nurses behind the desk to jump. At the sight of the nearly unconscious Frater Imperator, they both wordlessly got to their feet. One led them to an empty room as the other went to find a doctor.

Copia had passed out in that small frame of time. His head lolled to the side with blood smeared down his left cheek. The bleeding had stopped, but the sight still made Perpetua’s stomach roll with fear. Unbidden, his mind conjured the image of the painting he had stared at all morning, the two eerily similar in appearance and the hopeless feeling they evoked in Perpetua.

A doctor and a team of nurses bustled in. “What’s going on?” The doctor asked. He grabbed a pair of gloves and began assessing Copia’s limp body. “What was he doing that could have caused this reaction? Did he eat something he was allergic to? A seizure?” He glanced at Perpetua, who had frozen at the barrage of questions.

“It’s- we-“ Fuck. How would he even begin to explain what they were doing to someone who didn’t have a clue about what Copia and Perpetua had been dealing with?

“There was a problem with the ghouls,” Mrs. Psaltarian answered for him. Perpetua looked at her. Her face was still pale, but she was calm and her voice even. “It’s a magical injury. Look at his aura and see what the issue is.”

It was though a switch had been flipped. Without thinking, Perpetua grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room as the doctor and nurses surrounded Copia. She looked at him in surprise, but let him drag her into an empty room. The moment the door was shut, he whirled on her.

“What the fuck is going on?” He snarled at her. “What just happened to the ghouls? Why are the Papas’ souls in them? What do you know?”

“With all due respect, Papa,” she said, her voice tight and her eyes stern. It was an unfamiliar look on her as he had only seen her homely and gentle. “Now is not the time for this conversation-“

“Then when?!” Perpetua shouted. He pointed in the direction where they had left Copia. “Copia is unconscious and bleeding from his fucking eye because of the ghouls. And they’re - they’re -“ he couldn’t say it. Their brothers, his beloved ghouls, had become monsters because of him. And he had left them behind, alone, in their unfathomable pain.

“Papa,” Mrs. Psaltarian said. “We need to get to those ghouls and take them to Bee. They have to be contained.”

He stared at her. “Contained? What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” she said in a tight voice. “That they’re no longer safe to be around. Whatever is inside them has had enough of their physical vessel.”

“That makes no fucking sense!” He cried. He dug his hands into his hair and turned in a circle. “None of this makes sense, Marika! What even happened to get us here in the first place? Why did our mother put their spirits in ghouls? And why haven’t you said anything about it?” His breaths quickened. “What if Copia never wakes up? What if our brothers can’t be saved?”

“Perpetua!” She barked. He stopped in his tracks. She had never addressed him by his name before. “You are Papa. You’re the leader of the Ministry. Get yourself together, now.”

He stared at her. Could she talk to him that way? Maybe. She was his aunt after all. But being Papa felt like trying to reach the moon in a simple jump; impossible. He felt like a child who had just seen the boogeyman for the first time. And, like a child, he wanted to hide away from this awful nightmare until he woke up.

“If you don’t,” she continued. “Then we risk losing your brothers.”

At the reminder of the state of the ghouls, he shut his eyes. She was right. They didn’t have time for his meltdown; they had to get his brothers somewhere safe. He clenched his shaking hands into fists and nodded, then followed her out of the room.

The walk was quick. On the way, she snagged a ghoul that had been walking past and whispered something to it. It clicked its teeth and continued down the hallway. Perpetua glanced at it as they made it to the practice chapel. It was quiet as Mrs. Psaltarian cracked open the door and peered inside. Despite his better judgment, he peeked over her shoulder.

He wished he hadn’t.

He could see Secondo’s slumped form and the mess of viscera around him. Was the black substance the equivalent of blood? Whatever it was looked sticky and thick as it slowly coagulated around his half-brother’s trembling body.

“Papa.”

He glanced at her. She was staring at him with a closed-off expression. How she wasn’t gawking at the scene in front of them, Perpetua didn’t know. He remembered what Anya had said only hours ago, how sometimes you needed to put aside your emotions to address the issue at hand. It seemed Mrs. Psaltarian had long mastered that ability. “I told that ghoul to bring Bee. When it gets here, we’re going to take the ghouls to the basement. They’ll be safe there.”

“Safe?” Perpetua asked. “Safe from what? Themselves?”

“From you and Copia.” She stepped into the room and looked around. Perpetua reluctantly followed.

“From…” he stepped in front of her. “Did you know that this could happen?”

“I knew that something could happen, yes,” she confirmed, her gaze past his shoulder. He knew she was looking at Terzo’s draped form on the vibraphone. “But not this. I was hoping that they would just… disintegrate. And this mess would finally be over.” She sighed and rubbed a hand over her hair.

“So you did know,” Perpetua said, voice sharp with surprise. “You knew that something was wrong with the ghouls, and yet you still gave them to me.”

“Because it was your mother’s last request,” she responded softly, her eyes going from Primo, to Secondo, and then Terzo. “My nephew’s souls in the bodies of ghouls, just for you.”

Before Perpetua could respond, Bee marched into the room with a bazooka and a pack of ghouls. It was dressed in a long black skirt and a cropped sweater. When it saw the three bodies, it froze and stared, its eyes quickly taking it in. The moment it saw Perpetua, its mouth formed into a snarl, and it stalked over to him.

“What the fuck did you do?” It snapped.

Perpetua never handled confrontations well. His attempts at standing up for himself in the past always fell embarrassingly short. Even so, a childish indignation to defend himself rose in him. But then he glanced over Bee’s shoulder and caught sight of a silver horn still dripping with black blood, and all fight drained out of him.

“We - we were playing a song,” he explained. “‘Life Eternal.’ I thought that maybe it would react differently with Copia in the room. We were barely a minute into the song before they transformed…” he trailed off, bile rising in his throat as he remembered that awful shriek that had burst out of Terzo when those wings had ripped his back apart.

“Oh, so they’re just toys for you to play with?” Bee snapped. Scorn sharpened its voice like a knife, and it cut through Perpetua and made him flinch back. “You didn’t think that maybe the first time was enough? It was obvious that Frater’s music made them upset, and yet you played it anyway? Are you fucking stupid?!”

Now he should say something. Insulting a Papa should be a huge offense. But he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. What gave him the right? He’s only been Papa for… what, six months now? He didn’t feel like Papa. He felt like a jester wearing the king’s crown. He wasn’t prepared for this role like his half-brothers were and hadn’t worked hard for it like Copia had. He was just plucked from the city and offered this role. And like a fool, he had accepted it.

Perpetua didn’t realize he was backing away from the ghoul specialist until his knees hit the seat of a pew. He collapsed into it with a yelp and immediately covered his face. Shame, hot and slimy and familiar, made his face burn. The horror of what he had seen, the fear that pinched his nerves when he thought about Copia’s bleeding eye, and the slowly ebbing shock made tears well up in his eyes and drip down his face. It was all his fault. He should’ve known better. And now, all of his brothers were in pain because of him. Who knew if Copia would be fine after today? Would they still be able to save their brothers’ souls?

He vaguely heard Bee and Mrs. Psaltarian talking, but didn’t look up. Every now and then, he heard Bee exclaim in frustration, followed by Mrs. Psaltarian’s attempts to calm it down. He sat forward with his elbows propped on his knees and his face buried in his hands in a feeble attempt to hide himself. He wished he were alone so that he could take his mask off, scrub the paint off his face, and wallow in his shame.

“Papa,” Mrs. Psaltarian said to him a few moments later. He belatedly realized that maybe he should call her Aunt Marika like Copia did, but it felt like addressing a stranger. “Bee moved the ghouls to the basement. It said it would need you there to run some tests.”

He nodded and breathed in and out. In and out. Another. Another.

Once he felt a little more stable, he stood up. A pack of Copia’s ghouls was already cleaning up the room. She studied him, then sighed. Her gaze softened into something tender, something familial that did the opposite of comfort Perpetua.

“As your aunt, I just want to say that I’m sorry, Perpetua,” she murmured. “For everything.”

The words registered in his mind, but didn’t go any further than that. He nodded and left the room. He pulled out a handkerchief and tried to wipe his face as best as he could, catching his reflection in the windows. It wasn’t too bad, just some smears along the base of his mask. Whenever he caught sight of that damn white eye he felt the urge to gauge his fingers into his socket and rip it out.

When they made it to the basement, a ghoul, one of Copia’s, was waiting for them. It led them not to Bee’s office but to an empty room that was in a side passage.

It was a room wider than long and only concrete. A painted line cut through the middle of it, and behind it were his three half-brothers. Primo and Secondo were laid on their backs while Terzo was placed on his front. At least they were no longer trembling, and it seemed like they had stopped bleeding.

Bee was standing to the side with a book in its hands, muttering and drawing in the air with a finger. The ghoul chittered at it and pointed at Perpetua and Mrs. Psaltarian. Bee looked up and nodded at them.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” it said in a neutral voice. “We’re going to try out your connection with them, Papa, just to see how they react. After that, nobody else is allowed to handle them but me. Like it should’ve been from the start,” it added on with a scowl directed at Mrs. Psaltarian, who scowled back.

Not wanting any more bad blood to be spilled, Perpetua stepped forward. But when he opened his mouth to agree, nothing came out.

Oh, no, he thought. This hadn’t happened to him in years. Sometimes, when things became too overwhelming, too chaotic, he would be unable to speak. “Nonverbal” is what people on the internet call it. Whatever it was only added to his distress as he stared at Bee and strained his vocal cords to work.

“Papa? Are you okay?” Mrs. Psaltarian asked, concerned. “Are the ghouls still bothering you somehow?”

He shook his head. This was, unfortunately, his own doing. Bee sighed. “Can’t speak?” Perpetua looked away and shook his head. “Probably a result of shock or something. Just… nod yes or no, alright?” It asked. Perpetua nodded. “I’ve stunned the ghouls for now. Try to connect with Primo first and see what happens. If you can connect with them, ask him how he’s feeling. Nod if you get a response, shake your head if you don’t.”

Perpetua nodded again and walked close to the line until his toes were at the edge. He faced Primo and studied him for a moment. It pained him to see his half-brother in such a grotesque way, but the least he could do was accept his actions and face the consequences. He closed his eyes and searched for that cord that linked them. He found it easily and grabbed it.

Sleep… I must sleep… it hurts…

A pang of guilt hit Perpetua and made him want to sever the connection, but he shoved it aside. Primo, he spoke into his mind. How are you? Can you hear me?

A beat of silence.

GetoutgetoutgetoutGETOUTGETOUT-

It was as though someone had punched him with how loud his demand was. He fell to the ground as his brain was suddenly racked with screams, not only from Primo but from the other two as well. It was all he could hear. It felt as though his brain was going to burst, and he almost wished it did. Anything for relief from those desperate, angry shrieks that echoed in his mind. Despair washed over him in waves, and he could barely hear his own cries with how loud his brothers’ screams were.

A puff of vanilla-scented air hit him. The screams stopped immediately and left Perpetua curled up on the ground, his mind blessedly empty. He realized he had his fingers curled into his mask with the unconscious intention of ripping it off, and slowly pried his hands away from it.

“Looks like it didn’t go well,” Bee said from behind him. Perpetua blinked open his eyes and turned his head. Its bazooka was pointed at the three ghouls as it frowned at them.

Mrs. Psaltarian crouched over him and looked him over. “That must have been what Copia experienced earlier,” she surmised. “Does anything hurt?” She placed a hand against his cheek, and he flinched at the unexpected, affectionate touch. It only added another complicated layer to the turmoil of emotions that slowly grew inside of him.

He took a moment to take stock of his body. Aside from a lingering headache and a dull ache in his left eye, he was fine. He shook his head.

Bee handed him a cell phone with the notes app opened. “Type exactly what you said and what Primo said in response.”

Perpetua sat up and took the phone, and typed the exchange. He handed it back to Bee when he was done and allowed Mrs. Psaltarian to help him to his feet.

“They all said ‘get out’ over and over again, huh? So they can respond to you. At least, respond to your presence.” It tapped the phone against its lip in thought, then pointed it at Mrs. Psaltarian.

“Alright. We have questions, you have answers. What’s the deal with those ghouls?”

She straightened. Honestly, it felt as though Perpetua was seeing a whole other woman. She resembled nothing of the nice, kind woman who had been helping him around the Ministry since he arrived. “Let’s not speak about it here where they might be able to hear.”

Bee accepted that and led them to its office. Once there, it stored its bazooka and leaned against its desk. Perpetua stood off to the side and waited for his aunt to begin.

“You have the floor, Mrs. Psaltarian,” Bee said with a wave.

“Your mother turned up at the Ministry one spring day,” she began without any hesitation. “Another teenager seeking shelter from their home. But she was different. She had this look in her eye, like she was always angry at the world. But she never let it show. From the moment she started at the Ministry, she was like a bright light that everyone was attracted to, especially your father, Nihil.” She breathed in and sighed. “Nihil and she had a complicated history, one that she ended. She disappeared after their last encounter, and nobody knew what had happened to her until I received a letter from her one day in July 1981. She told me she was ready to join the Ministry. Permanently. Up until that point, she hadn’t been indoctrinated as she didn’t want to be committed to another religion.”

Another? He didn’t know that she had believed in something other than Satanism. Perpetua waved a hand at her but couldn’t speak his question. Luckily, she seemed to understand his confusion. “All she ever told me was that she was raised in a Catholic home that didn’t treat her well.”

Just like Perpetua had been mistreated at the hands of nuns and priests in the name of God. Did she know that he had ended up with the same fate that she had? Did she care? He pushed those thoughts away as Mrs. Psaltarian continued.

“Nihil and I were overjoyed when she returned. Like I said, neither of us had known what happened to her. She turned up one summer night with one bag and the clothes on her back. The moment I saw her, I thought, ‘this isn’t the woman I knew. Not anymore.” Mrs. Psaltarian closed her eyes. “It was like a cloud was over her. Whatever she had gone through during those months she was gone had changed her for the worse. She was more irritable, especially with Nihil. From the moment she was indoctrinated into our Church, she put everything she had into reviving Ghost.”

“It wasn’t until a baby showed up on our doorstep months later that I began to suspect something. This boy, whose eyes looked familiar, was brought up here at the Ministry. I watched him grow into a young man who was like his parents in so many ways. Snarky, always craving attention, and stubborn. But he was also kind to a fault and would always stand up to bullies. I never saw Sister or him in the same room, not until he began his training as a Cardinal, but she would sometimes stop by the daycare and just… watch him. Watch him play with other children, watch him read a book in the corner…” She sniffled and pressed a hand to her mouth.

“She despised my nephews. Not many people knew about her and Nihil's relationship, but we all know how rumors fester. Many thought that she was jealous of the women he bedded and took it out on his sons. But I knew that wasn’t the case. So I asked her one day why she hated my nephews so much. And she said, ‘I don’t hate them. I feel sorry for them.”

She opened her eyes. “And then she killed them.”

Perpetua had never considered how Mrs. Psaltarian reacted to her nephews being murdered. He almost wanted to gesture to her to stop, to wait until Copia was awake so that he could also hear the rest of the story. His twin deserved to know more about their mother, as he had lived with her in his life more than Perpetua had. But he was greedy and desperate for anything about their mother, and so he didn’t move a muscle.

“It was as though that cloud that had been present for years was finally lifted after that day. She was laughing again, smiling and joking with Nihil like they used to. We would spend hours talking into the night about Ghost and old stories of our pasts. I was so relieved to have her back that I forgave her. I did love my nephews, but I fear that I loved the Ministry more. It’s my life. It’s been a generational role that has been passed down for decades.” She met Perpetua’s eyes. “But it looks like their deaths didn’t bring the comfort she had wanted all those years. A few weeks before she passed, she came to our home and asked if I could do her a favor.”

“I agreed, of course. All she told me was that on the night she passed, I would need to summon three ghouls and gift them to you, Papa, when you were acclimated to the Ministry. And yes, she did tell me that the spirits inhabiting them were the Papas. It was a shock to learn that, but when I asked why she wanted it to be done, she… well, she told me that hopefully, I’ll never find out, as it was a secret she was taking to the grave. And she did.”

“I summoned them and kept them locked away until then, and when you were finally ready to begin your album, I gave them to you.” She spread her hands. “And that’s all I know.”

Perpetua worked his mind through it all. So his aunt didn’t know about the specifics surrounding their births or why, exactly, Sister needed the Papas’ souls.

“You mentioned a letter,” Bee said. “Are there more? Do you have any lying around?”

“I do, but I fear they won’t have any answers.” She looked at Perpetua. “I’m sorry, Papa. But it seems this mystery is something that you and Copia will have to work through together. You, your brother, and your mother are the beginning, and you three must be the ending.” With that, she turned and left the room. Perpetua could only watch her go, stunned by her sudden departure.

Bee whistled. “Wow. Shit’s fucked. Honestly, it felt like it was a rehearsed speech more than an explanation.” It sighed and shook its head. The movement caused the spikes on its head to sway back and forth. “Look, Papa. I’m sorry for speaking that way earlier. It was rude and unprofessional. I’ve been told many times that I tend to prioritize ghouls over human sentiments. I’m… working on it.” It shuffled on its feet and waved at the ghouls, obviously uncomfortable. “I’ll monitor them from down here, yeah? And I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Perpetua bobbed his head in assent and left, not wanting to spend another moment alone with Bee. He appreciated the apology, but the damage was already done. At the very least, it was nice to know that the ghouls had someone on their side who advocated for them.

As he made his way back to the main floor, he realized that he was supposed to hold Mass tonight, but how could he if he couldn’t speak? He glanced at his watch and saw that it was still a few hours away. The thought of having to lead Mass after such a chaotic day made him want to melt into the floor with dread. He decided to swing by the nurses’ office to check on Copia before finding Mr. Psaltarian to ask if they could cancel Mass under the guise that he wasn’t feeling well. He hoped the older man wouldn’t get too upset, but Perpetua couldn’t blame him if he did.

When he got there, he saw that the door was already open and Mr. Psaltarian was standing next to Copia’s bed. Surprise and sudden anxiety made him freeze in the doorway. He realized he should probably leave to give the man some privacy, but Mr. Psaltarian was already turning to face him.

“Papa.” He waved at Copia. “Care to explain why Frater is unconscious?”

Perpetua placed a hand at his throat and shook his head. Mr. Psaltarian raised an eyebrow. “Can’t talk? Hm. Frater was like that, too, when he was a kid. Sometimes, when he got in trouble, he’d just… stop talking for hours.” He shook his head. “I’m assuming you won’t be able to hold Mass today?”

His dread grew tenfold, and he shook his head. He tensed as Mr. Psaltarian looked him up and down in consideration. For what, Perpetua didn’t know. But whatever it was seemed to appease the older man as he nodded.

“Alright. I’ll get a Cardinal to just do some readings and have the choir lead some hymns. No big deal, alright?” He clapped a hand on Perpetua’s shoulder and ignored how he flinched. “Let me know if you need anything. Take the evening to rest. And keep an eye on him, will you?” And then he was gone.

That… went better than he expected. He had expected at least some disappointment or anger, but it seemed Mr. Psaltarian really did hold him in a higher regard than Copia for some reason. His mentor hadn’t even asked him what caused him to become temporarily mute or inquired about Copia’s current state. Too exhausted to give it more thought, he pulled out a chair and sat down next to Copia’s bed and studied his twin’s still form.

The nurses had wiped the blood from his face and covered his eye with a thick white bandage. He wondered what they had uncovered by looking at his aura, as Mrs. Psaltarian had put it, but he couldn’t ask. His thoughts were beginning to become muddled now that he had a moment of stillness. And, if he was being honest, he didn’t want anyone to see him in his emotional distress. It was embarrassing enough to know that Bee and the Psaltarians had all seen him in such a way. It was undignified for a Papa to be unable to speak.

A thought struck him. What if Copia didn’t want anything to do with him after today? It was Perpetua’s fault that Copia had become injured, and if he had experienced only a fraction of the horror that had plagued his head, he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Copia.

Anxiety made his exhausted body restless, especially the longer he stared at Copia. The clock above Copia’s bed was a little too loud, the slowly dying rays of sunlight through the window a little too bright. He grew increasingly nervous of someone stepping into the room and talking to him. His mask, something he usually took comfort in, felt as though it was merging with his skin. The paint around his eyes felt as though it was cracking and splitting. And his left eye had begun to throb at some point in time with his pulse, an awful reminder that he was alive and whole.

Before he knew it, he was standing and leaving the room. He didn’t stop when a nurse called out to him down the hall. He passed Clergy members and staff. His addled mind twisted their smiles into smirks, their concerned looks into disgusted sneers. It felt as though he was back at the orphanage, the once bright halls of the Ministry turning gray and unsaturated to match the dreary atmosphere of his childhood.

When he arrived at his apartment, he shut the door behind him and nearly ripped the straps of his mask in his haste to remove it. He threw it across the room and barged into his bathroom and shut the door.

Darkness enveloped him, and he left it that way. He couldn’t face himself, not yet. He tore his jacket off and tugged the sleeves of his turtleneck sweater so that they bunched up around his forearms. His gloves were next, the air cool on his sweaty palms. Jars of paint were shoved aside and toiletries toppled off the counter as he scrabbled for the faucet in the dark. When he found a nozzle, he turned it and stuck his hands under the running water.

For a split second, it was icy cold, and then it was hot. Waves of awful heat cascaded over the back of his hands and down his fingertips. A hiss caught in the back of his throat and left his lips in a puff of air. Instead of withdrawing his hands, however, he kept them under the water until tears sprang in his eyes. He knew what he was doing. He knew what this meant. The same sentiment was on the tops of his thighs. He had reenacted this dance time and time again.

The difference was that he wasn’t trying to feel alive. This time, he was punishing himself.

How did he, a nobody from an orphanage, a pathetic choir teacher, a man who had no idea what he wanted out of life, stand where he stood now? A title he had taken from his twin, a man who had worked hard for it for years, and he had no idea what he was doing.

He turned his hands over and stuck his hands further into the running water until it ran over the sensitive skin of his wrists. A shudder shook his body the moment it made contact. His body screamed at him to pull away, but he remained still. Perfectly still, even when spots appeared in his vision, blinding balls of light in the darkness. His jaw ached with how hard he clenched his teeth together, his muscles unbearably tight.

Maybe this was why he never had a family, why his mother gave him up, why God never answered his prayers. Because everyone knew that he would be selfish with his love. He harmed his half-brothers by keeping them trapped in their ghoulish bodies in an attempt to gain any form of affection he had missed out on all his life. He allowed Copia to fall into danger for no logical reason. If he hadn’t been born, had never existed, then this wouldn’t be happening. Everyone would be safe and sound. Maybe even his mother would still be alive, somehow, and she would be happy.

He deserved more than this. He deserved the horrors that his half-brothers experienced. The awful screams that had wracked through Copia had left him unconscious. And all he had was this meager pain that would only leave his skin red and tender. What he needed was something that would cut deep into him, something that would leave evidence of his penitence. Something that he would see and remind himself that he had brought this all upon himself. That this was his fault, and he had the meager decency to pay the price.

With that in mind, he pulled his hands out of the water. Almost hypnotized, he moved in the direction of the door. But before he even took a few steps, his foot slipped on something wet. It slid out from underneath him, and his knee hit the ground hard.

The unexpected pain finally tore an audible yell from his mouth. His hands fell to the ground to stabilize himself, but they met whatever substance had spilled on the floor. With nothing to hold on to, he slipped again, and his shoulder slammed into the floor. He let the momentum roll him onto his back with a groan, not caring that his entire torso was now covered in the fluid. As the scent filled his nose, he realized it was the black paint he used. And now he had wasted all of it in his pitiful attempt at retribution.

The running water was all he could hear. Paint soaked into his shirt and chilled his skin. His hands and wrists burned with a tingling sensation, and his knee throbbed with pain, no doubt already bruising.

He closed his eyes and quietly fell apart on his bathroom floor. Despite having a home, a family, respect, and admiration, he felt more worthless than he ever had before.

Chapter 13: I will hold you for the minute it takes

Notes:

TW: self harm

If I had a nickel for every time a chapter included Copia waking up I'd have at least three nickles... back in my day that used to amount to a pack of gum and a bag of chips (if u lived in El Salvador around 2010 lmao)

Writer's block is kicking my ass and I'm blaming the heat. This chapter took way too long, and I'm hoping I'll get back into the swing of things after my ritual (anyone going to the one in KC? :3)

I'm Krakintakin on Tumblr!

EDIT: I somehow thought of a small inconsistency in this chapter and it bothered me enough to change it, whoops! If anyone notices anything else plz let me know!

Copia listened to the soft snores of the other boys in the dormitory as he stared into the far side of the room. He could see the dark shapes of two beds and the outlines of his roommates, Daniel and Raul, as they slept. The room was chilled by the frost outside the window, but he was warm under his blanket. Safe. Secure. He could hear the soft howls of snowy winds outside and looked forward to the white wonderland that would welcome him in the morning. Perhaps he could convince Cardinal Joseph to let him and his classmates play outside for a short recess the next day.

The thought comforted and excited him. He closed his eyes and envisioned what tomorrow would bring. Hot cocoa in the morning, snow forts and snowball fights in the afternoon, and warm cookies in the evening. His body relaxed into his bed, his hands curled against his chest to keep them warm. His mind was already conjuring a dream of the courtyard piled high with snow. He was knee deep in snow in his pajamas, his hands somehow warm as he packed snow into the shape of the main chapel. The type of impossibilities that only came in dreams.

Something was by his bed.

Copia jolted awake. His heart thudded in his chest, and his hands clutched at his shirt to still it, to quiet it. He kept his eyes shut in sudden dread at what he would see. Or, more likely, what he couldn't see.

An undeniable presence hovered behind him. It was like a pocket of nothing had opened up next to Copia's bed, a moment where all time stopped, where everything ended—a coalescence of endings and no place for beginnings. Daniel and Raul still slept a few feet away, and the wind still whipped at the window. Copia's hands were still warm against his chest. A warmth that he held on to as he became rigid in his bed from fear.

The thing didn't make a sound, but he knew it was there. He knew it was leaning over his bed, only inches from his face.

His brain felt fuzzy with panic. He chanted a single thought in his mind, a plea for that presence to leave him alone. A prayer took root in his mind, and he repeated it over and over. He asked for Lucifer's protection and strength from whatever that thing was. The muscles in his hands grew tight with fear. His face twitched with how hard he strained to keep his eyes shut.

What if it got closer? Or touched him? The only protection he had was the blanket that covered him and the darkness behind his eyes.

He had the sudden thought that whatever was next to him was an ancient thing. Something that predated everything he knew. An immortal thing. A simple thing.

An ending. The ending.

Death.

And it had been cheated.

—

Copia heard a scratching noise as he slowly woke up from his nightmare.

It was rough and quick. In his sleep-addled mind, he wondered if Death had followed him from his nightmare and was coming to collect its due. It was scratching at his bedroom door in quick, teasing strokes. A quiet, panicked noise caught in his throat as he forced his heavy eyelids open.

One met light, the other darkness.

The panic that brewed in his chest rapidly grew. Despite the urgency in his body, his hand was lethargic as he lifted it to his face. A bandage was taped over his left eye. He prodded at it carefully and blinked his eyes as he glanced around.

It was hard to make out his surroundings with one eye covered, but he recognized the yellow-striped wallpaper and medical posters. He was in the infirmary. And squeezed in the small armchair next to him was Perpetua. His twin had his knees pulled up to his chest as he sat sideways in the chair, his notebook propped up against his knees.

Copia's heartbeat slowed at the sight of him. He was safe. The air smelled clean, and the bedding under his fingers was a little scratchy. A clock ticked. The bandage tickled his cheek. Copia stared at Perpetua as he worked his brain. Why was he here? What happened? What time was it-

The ghouls. Screams in his head. Perpetua’s horrified face as he looked down at him.

“You’re awake.”

Copia blinked as Perpetua uncurled himself from his seat. He was swamped in a large black hoodie and sweatpants that bunched at his feet. In the few months he had known his brother, he had never seen him so… comfortable.

“Do you remember anything?” Perpetua asked as he stood up and set his notebook on the side table. He waved a hand to the corner of the room, and Copia followed it to find a ghoulette standing in the corner. It clicked at Perpetua as it walked out of the room.

“Up until I passed out, yeah,” Copia rasped. As he slowly sat up, he saw that someone had taken off his gloves and shoes. Perpetua handed him a glass of water. “Thanks.”

The water soothed his dry throat, and it felt as though it went straight through him. His stomach, slowly waking up with the rest of his body, grumbled with hunger. “What time is it?”

“Past midnight,” Perpetua replied. He pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie in quick, jerky movements. And he still wore his leather gloves. And his mask. Not for the first time, Copia remarked to himself that his twin was a strange man. “I’ll leave when a nurse gets here. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“Leave?” Copia echoed. “Why are you leaving? You can stay.” He set the empty glass down. “Besides, I need you to fill me in on what happened after our brothers fucked my brain. Eugh,” he shook his head. “Bad choice of words.”

“It’s alright,” Perpetua said. It was then that Copia noticed how hoarse his voice was. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow - er, later, I guess. I’m sure you’re tired.”

Copia snorted. “I’m anything but tired, Perpetua. Did something happen? Did someone get hurt?” He looked up at his brother, but his twin wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Perpetua, what-“

“Why didn’t you tell me I’m going to be Papa for the rest of my life?” Perpetua blurted, then froze. He looked up at Copia with wide eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bring that up right now. It's not important.”

Copia frowned. Is that why Perpetua seemed so on edge? “Well, it seems like it's important to you, so let's talk,” he said. “How’d you find out? I didn’t know until yesterday morning.”

“Cardinal Aris and Cardinal John told me,” Perpetua told him in a small voice. He hunched over himself. "It was in my contract. I agreed to it."

Copia nodded and ignored the twinge of jealousy that pulsed in his heart. His silent vow to guide Perpetua through the papacy wasn't a total balm over the stinging wound that was left behind from his swift transition from Papa to Frater, but it helped a little to know he was helping his brother in ways that he had never been.

“I thought it would’ve been more appropriate to tell you later," he said to his twin. "It’s not something I was going to hide from you, promise.” Perpetua simply nodded. His expression was hard to read underneath that mask. What was the problem? Did… did his brother not want to be Papa? The thought made him clutch the glass in his hand a little tighter. The part of him that was still hopeful, still craving the light of the papacy, conjured a future where he was Papa once again, and another part of him balked at the image. He shook his head. "What, do you not want to be Papa?"

Perpetua’s cheeks grew pale, and his eyes widened further. Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door, and it opened. Three nurses walked in with trays of food and medical equipment and beaming smiles. Copia smiled back at them and settled into his bed. Normally, he'd be more than ready to welcome the attention of any woman, but the sight of Perpetua's spooked expression made him want to speed up the process to get to the bottom of how his brother felt.

“Well, hello, ladies! If I had known it would take me spending a night in the infirmary to wake up to three beautiful women, I would’ve done so long ago,” he said to them with a wink. “Especially you, Stephanie. You’re still as lovely as ever.”

The older nurse swatted at him as she placed a tray of food on the table next to his bed. “Oh, shush, Frater. I still remember the days when you came in with a fake cold to skip out of your duties during Mass and steal candy from the candy jar. Did he ever tell you that, Papa?” She turned to where Perpetua had been standing, but there was no sight of his twin brother. Copia frowned at the empty space. “Oh. It seems like he left. I can’t blame him; he must be exhausted.”

She motioned for Copia to lean forward, and he did so. He stared at the spot where Perpetua had been. He couldn’t help but feel hurt by his departure, and it only fueled his growing worry about how Perpetua's stance on being Papa. She fluffed his pillows while another nurse, one he didn’t recognize, looked at his aura. It was a basic process: murmur a spell, and you can see the hues and shape of his spirit around him.

“He’s been here almost all evening and into the night,” Stephanie continued. “Sitting by your bedside in case anything happened. It was a fright when you three came in.”

“Three?” Copia asked, confused.

“Yeah,” a younger nurse said. “You looked half-dead, Frater. You were so pale, and your eye was bleeding! I’ve never seen a Papa more scared. Mrs. Psaltarian, too.”

He grabbed a cup of chocolate pudding and tore off the aluminum lid. As he brought it to his mouth to lick the excess, he froze. "Wait. Marika was here, too?"

“They both carried you here,” Stephanie told him. She handed him a spoon with a raised eyebrow, and he took it with a slight huff. “She said something about an issue with Papa’s ghouls. How that affected you, we don’t know.”

He remained quiet as the three nurses fluttered around his room, the silence occasionally broken by him scraping the pudding cup clean. When he went to grab a bowl of soup from his tray of food, he noticed Perpetua’s notebook. It seemed his brother had left it in his haste to leave. His hunger now aimed in a different direction, he grabbed it and began to flip through it.

The notebook was much of the same stuff he had seen at the beach house. He found the song that Perpetua had been working on and saw that he had expanded on it. A chorus along with a title: “De Produndis Borealis.” That was… different. Honestly, Perpetua’s concept for his album was wildly unique in terms of what the Papas before him had cooked up. Not that Copia could say much; he had gone down a different path with his albums as well. Less tongue-in-cheek with religion and more introspective about society as a whole. He flipped to the next page titled "Excelsis," but before he could read it, one of the nurses got his attention.

“Frater?”

He looked up. The nurse who had been looking over his aura clutched a clipboard to her chest. “Um. Sorry. I have an update on what we learned earlier. Normally, we’d have Doctor Imani tell you, but he’s busy in the maternity ward, so you're stuck with me."

“I’m surprised there was something to be found,” Copia replied with a smile that felt too wide. He set the notebook aside in favor of the bowl of soup. “What is it - er, Nurse-?”

“Lydia. Nurse Lydia,” she supplied. He nodded and waved a hand for her to continue. She turned her clipboard around and showed Copia a diagram. It was a picture of a circle, round and smooth. Beside it was a chart of colors that ranged from gold to black. “Your aura is a reflection of your soul. In all cases, auras are a smooth circle surrounding you, and we judge the health of the soul based on the color. A pale gold is a sign of a perfect soul. Yours… well, your aura is jagged and black. Your soul is deteriorating, and it looks like it has been for some time.”

"Oh," Copia said. He tapped a finger on the rim of his bowl. "And there's… no way to fix it, I'm guessing? Anything to stop it from getting worse?"

She glanced at her colleagues, who Copia noticed were suddenly very absorbed in their tasks. “Not that Doctor Imani knew. He said he had only seen four people suffer the same fate. Sister Imperator and the three previous Papas, to be exact, but Sister made him and anyone else who knew not to say anything when she was alive. He only told us yesterday when he was looking you over.”

"Where do we go from here, then?"

“Honestly? We don’t know. Like I said, he only saw it in four other people. He noticed it looked similar to Sister Imperator’s when she was close to her passing.”

Copia sat up, anxious. Some of the soup tipped over the edge of the bowl and splashed in his lap. “As in, I’m going to die soon?”

“No! No, not like that," Nurse Lydia assured him. "As far as we know, her declining health was due to natural causes. But… it is worrying to see your soul in such a state.” She looked down at her clipboard and flipped through some pages. “We’ll take another look in a few days to see if anything changes, but if it’s anything like your mother’s, it might just be permanent. Our best advice is to not do anything more with Papa’s ghouls, as that’s what Mrs. Psaltarian told us caused this issue when you arrived.”

“And,” Nurse Stephanie added with a pointed look at the youngest nurse. “She also told us not to say a word of this to anyone. We don’t want any rumors to spread about you, Frater.” With that, she shooed everyone out of the room. After one last check in with Copia, she also left.

As he watched her leave, his gaze fell on the open notebook next to him.

Everybody leaves, one day.

I know it hurts

Everybody goes away

You will too. I will too.

Food no longer appetizing, he placed his bowl to the side and tossed Perpetua's notebook on the chair his brother had occupied. He tugged the thin sheet out from underneath him and wiggled underneath it, and pulled it tight over his head. He pushed all thoughts of what he had just learned away and squeezed his eyes shut.

He told himself he only imagined the dreadful energy that leered over his body as he eventually drifted off to sleep.

–

After a few more hours of sleep, he finally got the all clear from Doctor Imani. He returned to his rooms and took a long shower, soaking in the hot water and willing his tense muscles to relax.

It was going to be a long, long day. While he had slept half the previous day, he knew he was going to crash in the afternoon. His days on tour had taught him that. And he still had to carry out his duties as Frater, meet Perpetua and Anya in the library, and get caught up with what exactly had happened after he fell unconscious.

He decided to forgo the usual outfit today and changed into simple jeans and an old band t-shirt without his gloves. Very casual, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Maybe he could set a precedent of being a relaxed Frater.

As he grabbed his walkie, he contemplated radioing Perpetua. Would he answer? He ran a finger over the device as he thought about it. What had happened after he passed out? All he remembered was screams of agony in his head that felt like spikes being driven into his brain and then Perpetua’s horrified face staring down at him.

The walkie turned on. The noise startled him enough that he dropped the walkie. “Um. Copia? Are you there? Over.”

He quickly scooped it up. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up? Over.”

“How are you feeling? Over.”

“I’m feeling fine. How are you? Did you get some sleep? Over.”

“Yes. Some. I just wanted to see how you were doing after… everything. Over.”

He blinked at the walkie in his hand. Seriously, what happened yesterday? “I’d honestly feel a lot better if you told me what went down. Over.”

A moment of silence. “I think it would be better to show you. Do you think you could meet me in the basement before lunch? Over.”

Copia sighed. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll meet you there. Over.”

He turned the walkie-talkie off and slipped it into the waistband of his jeans. As he walked out of his bedroom, he saw Perpetua’s notebook on his dresser and grabbed it.

The next hour was spent reading over emails and doing even more catch up with what had been planned so far for Perpetua's tour. Whenever his mind strayed he would take a walk around his office in an attempt to clear his mind.

He had just sat down from his fourth walk and was scrolling through his contacts to find the email of one of the Cardinals when he found Perpetua's. Papa V Perpetua. He saved his current email and drafted a new one. In the receiver line, he put in Perpetua's name and put in the subject box: yo. what the fuck happened yesterday. And sent it.

He opened a new tab and played music from his playlist as he waited for a response. A whoosh told him a new email had arrived, and he switched to a new tab.

I don't think it's appropriate to talk about this via email. I'll show you before lunch.

Copia frowned. If you don't, he typed back. I'll draw a huge penis on every single page in your notebook.

This time, the response was immediate.

Seriously? My notebook? Why do you have it?

You left it at the infirmary. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. Finders keepers.

That's not fair. It has my name on it.

Then tell me what happened yesterday.

I'm showing you in a few hours. It really is inappropriate to talk about.

Your name looks better with a penis next to it. And balls. Reallyyyy hairy balls. Copia snickered to himself.

Fine! Copia smirked at the screen. One thing about having a new brother was the excuse to be as childish as he liked.

The ghouls have transformed. It was… painful. Primo has horns like a ram, Secondo has large, jagged teeth, and Terzo grew huge wings. Mrs. Psaltarian and I took you to the infirmary, and then we had Bee take the ghouls to the basement, where it's working on keeping them stable.

All amusement left him as Copia read his twin's response. Wings? Horns? What the fuck? And you didn't tell me??

He had to wait a few minutes for the next email. He tapped his fingers on his mouse and stared at the screen. Finally, Perpetua's message appeared.

It was terrifying. I didn't know how to tell you because I didn't know how you'd react. I'm sorry.

He read over the response, then read it again. Copia remembered how haggard his brother had appeared in the middle of the night. He couldn't imagine what it had been like to witness such an awful event.

How are you doing after all that?

I'm fine, Perpetua replied. I have to go.

A knock at his door made him look up. He quickly paused his music. “It’s open.”

He blinked in surprise when he saw Aunt Marika. She stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind her. He closed the email between him and Perpetua and then exited out of the entire browser, then felt stupid for doing so. He was simply doing his job.

“How are you feeling?” She asked as she walked around the perimeter of his office. She stopped at a small shrine for Mammon. "A prince of Hell? What for?"

“That was the prince I chose to be assigned to me when I was confirmed to begin my training to become a Cardinal." Not that you'd know, he thought ruefully. Neither you nor Mr. Psaltarian showed up for the ceremony. He opened a computer game and clicked on random numbered tiles. “And I feel fine. Do you need anything? 'Cuz I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Her hair was pulled back into a bun with a golden hairpin through it. It caught the light as she stepped up to the window. "I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. The state you were in was quite frightful. For both me and your brother.”

A complicated warmth swelled in Copia's chest at that. A series of mines exploded across the board and signalled the end of his turn. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, but didn't reply.

Her footsteps were soft on the carpeted floor as she walked up to his desk. Her eyes roamed around the office once more, and a small smile edged with grief appeared on her face. Neither said a word as she finally turned to him. Her eyes were warm in a way that he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. It made him grip the mouse in his hand a little tighter.

“You’re more like your mother than anyone I know, Copia." Her words were heavy enough that they draped over Copia with a sense of sadness.

“What is this?” He asked, unable to handle the sudden change in her demeanor. It made his skin itch with too many emotions and him feel as though he was about to burst. “Some kind of… family thing you’re doing? It’s weird. We don't do that here.”

She laughed, and it took Copia back to a time he had long forgotten. A memory that had been covered in dust in the recesses of his mind.

Copia is in a classroom, sitting at a desk, and his aunt is next to him. He had said something that made her laugh, and he felt proud of himself. Proud to have made this beautiful woman who cared for him laugh until she had tears in her eyes as she snorted undelicately. And he had pointed at her and laughed in return.

“Oh, Copia," she said with a sigh. A phrase he had heard countless times from countless people. But from her, it was always a little affectionate, a little exasperated. "I spoke to Papa yesterday and told him about your mother. And it wouldn’t be fair not to give you the same explanation.” She waved at his desk. “I know you’re busy, but are you willing to hear an old lady out?”

“You’re not old,” Copia automatically responded. His aunt raised an eyebrow but was still smiling. “Maybe a little old,” he conceded.

Aunt Marika sat down across from him in a cushioned chair and told him what she had told Perpetua. It was too brief. The story of their mother is summed up in only a few paragraphs. He wanted more. He wanted to know everything about Sister Imperator and who she was before she earned that title. Where did she grow up? Why did she leave her family for this place? What did she give up to make sure Copia and Perpetua had a place in this world?

But the question that came out was: “Why do you never talk about her?”

His aunt turned her head to look out the window into the garden. Bushes obscured most of the view, but Copia knew if you leaned back and angled your head properly, you could see the path that cut through the center of the garden.

“This was your father’s office. Did you know that?” Aunt Marika asked softly. “He would stand at that window and stare out into the garden whenever he was stuck on a song or got bored with his duties.”

This was his old man’s office, huh? He glanced around the room with a new perspective. Now that he thought about it, it was familiar. The beautiful carved wooden trim along the walls and the large painting behind his desk that depicted the four horsemen.

The sunlight on Aunt Marika's face highlighted the creases and wrinkles that framed her eyes and mouth. A sunspot under her right eye caught his attention. How long had her hair been graying at her temples? When did those wrinkles become deeper? Time had begun to sink its claws into his aunt, and soon it would take her away from him, too.

Everybody leaves, one day…

"Your mother," she said softly. "Would sometimes spend hours with him in this room. Every now and then, I'd join them and simply listen. Two beings, one larger than life because of his heritage, and the other a walking enigma. It was like two stars circling one another, both vying to be the center. The intensity between the two of them was enormous. There was always a hunger in Sister's eyes, a yearning that had grown every time she left this room. And Nihil fed it. He would preach about how far they could carry Satan's words and how it would last for centuries. And she'd smile and nod and whisper back ideas on how they would achieve longevity and prosperity."

"I think where the two split in different directions was at the why. Of course, it was to spread Satan's messages, but what else? For Nihil, it was for power and responsibility. To do what no other Papa had done before him. This was his life, after all. With no Ministry, no followers, he was nothing. But for Sister, it was different. It was always for the destitute and the broken. The people who didn't have anywhere else to go. A place to just… be. But then she disappeared and returned with pieces of herself gone. And she put herself to work. The previous Frater Imperator, your grandfather, suddenly retired. You remember him, hm? The man who was Papa before Nihil. He was fragile in the mind by the time death came for him. And Sister was chosen to be the next Imperator."

Copia stared out into the garden. Papa Nistor, later Frater Imperator. All he remembered of the man was the smell of damp earth. He had passed when Copia was barely three years old. The paintings in the gallery depicted him as a handsome individual, with a strong nose and a regal brow. One that had been passed on to Nihil. And Perpetua, it seemed.

Aunt Marika sighed. "No, I don't know much about Sister Imperator's past. All I can give you is her name, which is something only Nihil and I know." Copia stiffened in his seat. "Her name was Mary. Mary Roberts." She stood and smoothed her skirt. "Do you know what your name means, Copia?"

"Copy," he replied softly. "That's what all the kids told me as a child. I don't know if it's true."

Her eyes shone behind her glasses. "It means abundance. Copious. Prosperity. And your brother's name, Perpetua, means 'lasting forever.' Everlasting abundance. I think she chose well, don't you?" With one last smile at Copia, she quietly left the room.

—

Copia's footsteps echoed down the corridor as he walked through the basement of the Ministry. His mind felt stretched thin from everything that had happened since early that morning. The near fear on Perpetua's face when confronted about his feelings toward the papacy, the news about his soul, how their brothers had transformed from his and Perpetua's experiment, and then the conversation with Aunt Marika. Oh, and that feeling of dread that seemed to have followed him out of his nightmare that blanketed it all.

Perpetua's lanky form greeted him at the entry to where their brothers were being kept. As Copia got closer, he waved a hand at him.

"Hey," he greeted him. "How are they? Any better?"

Perpetua shook his head. His curls were dull and brushed out, and when he met Copia's eyes, he could see how they drooped with exhaustion.

"They're the same as when we left them," Perpetua said in a muted tone. He turned and reached out to open the door.

"Wait, hold on," Copia protested. "No other explanations other than what you told me earlier?"

Perpetua stilled. "Just… please don't get mad when you see them," his brother whispered. With his back to Copia, he couldn't see his brother's face, but his voice trembled with emotion. "I didn't know this would happen."

He opened the door.

Three lone figures were stretched out on the concrete floor. Copia didn't recognize them at first until he saw the glittery skeleton jumpsuits and black attire. He sucked in a breath at the sight of large, leathery wings framed in silver bones, at the ram-like horns that split Primo's head, and the frightening teeth that stuck out of Secondo's mouth.

Chills made the hair on the back of his arms and neck rise. He didn't register that he was walking toward the three ghouls until Perpetua grabbed his arm. Already on edge from the awful sight in front of him, he tensed and whirled to face his brother in annoyance at being startled. But whatever words he had on his lips fizzled out when he saw the quiet despair on Perpetua's face. His eyes were pinched with guilt, his lips pressed together in a pale line. The hand around Copia's arm squeezed.

"What were they saying, Copia?" Perpetua asked quietly. His eyes held a clarity that they had not had all day. "While they were transforming. What did they say?"

Copia swallowed, unnerved by the question. "I don't remember exactly what they said."

A frantic look appeared on Perpetua's face. His lips twisted into a desperate snarl. He grabbed Copia's other arm and dragged him closer. "What did they say, Copia?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Copia snapped. He grabbed at Perpetua's leather jacket and pushed him away, but his brother only pulled him along. Their feet tangled together, and before Copia knew it, they were both falling to the ground. Copia's shoulder hit the ground, and the impact made his teeth rattle in his skull. Copia groaned and let go of Perpetua.

"Shit, that fucking hurt, man!" He pushed himself to a seated position as he grumbled under his breath. "Lucifer's tits, what-"

A sob echoed through the chamber. Copia looked down and saw Perpetua was clutching his shoulder, his fingers curled with such intensity that his gloves strained over his knuckles. Copia realized that he wasn't holding it in pain, but was instead digging his fingers into the meat of his shoulder. Amplifying the physical pain to match the agony of whatever was going on in his head. Choked sobs rang into the room around them.

Copia stared at him for an infinite moment, too stunned by the display to move. But when a tight-lipped keen made its way out of Perpetua, he grabbed at Perpetua's hand and attempted to tug it away. Perpetua, his eyes still screwed shut, violently shook his head.

"No," he ground out. "No, I deserve it, I-"

"Shut up," Copia snapped with desperation. He didn't know what to do, what to say. "Just - shut the fuck up. You don't deserve to hurt yourself, you fucking moron." He turned so that he was on his knees and wrapped his hands around Perpetua's wrist. His clammy hands made the leather slippery, but he continued to pry Perpetua's fingers from his shoulder.

"I don't know if this is some weird Catholic guilt bullshit, but it's not happening here. Not if I can help it." Without thinking, he released one of his hands and jabbed a finger into Perpetua's closed eye. It was an incredibly dumb and stupid move, but it worked. His brother shouted in pain and loosened his grip enough that Copia was finally able to pull his hand away. He wrapped his arms around it as Perpetua flailed in anger and desperation.

"You want to know what they said?" Copia shouted at him. "They didn't say shit because they were too busy screaming. They just screamed and screamed and screamed. And it was so fucking loud, it was all I could hear, all I could feel. I could feel their pain and their anger, how hopeless they felt because they're stuck in some fucking ghouls! But you?" He shook his head. "You're alive, Perpetua, and they're not. Not anymore. Don't take that for granted."

He shook the arm that was stuck in his grasp. "So, no, Perpetua. I'm not letting you hurt yourself because you blame yourself for what happened. It was my idea, too. We both fucked up. It fucking sucks, but it's the truth. How can we save them if you're too busy trying to pay the price?"

Ragged breathing was the only response he got as Perpetua finally stopped thrashing. As he slowly loosened his grip on Perpetua's arm, he saw a strip of pink flesh on his wrist that disappeared into the sleeve of his jacket. He glanced at his brother as Perpetua pulled his arm away. His hand curled protectively where the jacket had revealed his skin. Copia watched his brother's chest rise and fall rapidly. The sudden silence and what he had just seen made his ears ring.

His knees ached, and he moved to sit on his ass. As he did so, he felt something dig into his ribs. Perpetua's notebook. He had brought it with him to return it to its proper owner.

An idea came to mind. He flipped it open to the song "De Profundis Borealis" and, before he could think better of it, began to read the lyrics.

"All the things that never gave you peace," he read aloud. "Throwing those, but keeping these. All the rights that didn't undo wrongs, put it back where it belongs."

"What are you doing?" Perpetua muttered. Copia ignored him and continued.

"In a palace built of frozen tears, all life is gone. But between the walls of whispering frost, secrets live on."

"Copia-"

"Shut up, the chorus is the best part," Copia said to him. "Every time you feel the wind blow, and a glow within you dies. When tomorrow comes you will know, that the morning thaws the ice."

He read the rest of what was written to an audience of one. When he was done, he shut the book and placed it next to Perpetua. His hand lingered on the notebook, the texture velvety smooth under his fingers.

"I'm the last person to tell you about how to let shit go," Copia said to him. He kept his eyes on the notebook between them. "And I certainly shouldn't be the one to call when you have a melt down. But what I can tell you is that you deserve peace. And this - " he tapped the notebook. "Tells me that you know that, too."

Perpetua's breathing filled the room. An inward breath, a deep pause, then the exhale. Copia counted each intake as he waited for his brother to come back from wherever his mind had taken him.

One… two… three… four….

When Copia reached seventy-three, Perpetua finally turned his head to face him. Copia was struck with the knowledge that this was his twin brother. They shared the same parents, the same DNA, the same womb. The same green-white eyes. Eyes that held different degrees of pain.

"Aunt Marika visited me earlier," he murmured. "She told me our mother's name as Mary Roberts, and that your name means everlasting, and mine is abundance. Everlasting abundance."

"All that effort for a name," Perpetua muttered with scorn that Copia hadn't heard from him before when referencing their mother. "And yet she dumped me at an orphanage."

"All that effort," Copia agreed. "And she didn't even raise me as her son until I was in the process of becoming Papa." He shook his head. This was a train of thought he had gone down countless times, and it always ended up in the same place. "What does De Profundis Borealis mean, anyway?"

Perpetua heaved himself up so that he mirrored Copia's seated position.

"From the northern abyss," Perpetua replied. "It's a double meaning. 'De Profundis' is the title of a famous letter from Oscar Wilde to his gay lover while he was in prison, and it also refers to Psalm 130."

Copia wrinkled his nose at the mention of a hymn. "What is it?"

Instead of reciting it back to him like a normal person, Perpetua opened his mouth and sang it to him.

"Out of the depths, I cry to you, Lord," Perpetua softly sang. His voice carried an echo of an all-consuming reverence. It filled the room, a song dedicated to a god that had no place in these walls. A god that Copia had never once believed in, and never will. "Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy. If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could you stand?" He cleared his throat. "There's more, but that section always stuck with me. It was a popular hymn at my church." Perpetua looked past Copia to the three still figures behind him. "I don't know if God ever heard me. And if He did, I don't think he forgave me for my transgressions. Do you think they will?"

Copia glanced over his shoulder. "You know, I asked you something similar yesterday. I asked if this was our fault. And you said no. All we did was be born into this world. Our mother did the rest. Now, did we make their situation worse?" He winced. "Probably. And I feel like a piece of shit for it. But," he looked back at Perpetua with a half-hearted smile. "Despite it all, you forgave me, didn't you? That matters to me more than any god, so maybe they will, too."

Perpetua sighed, then winced and put a hand to his shoulder. "Ow."

"Did you fall on your shoulder that hard?" Copia asked. "Maybe you should take a trip to the infirmary to get some ice for that."

"Maybe," Perpetua said in a dismissive tone.

Copia frowned at his twin. He didn't know if he should bring up his growing concerns for Perpetua's mental health, as he was unsure of how he would react. But he also knew he couldn't just stand by and watch Perpetua oscillate between being tentatively content and deeply troubled. He's had bad days and awful moments himself, but he's never turned to hurting himself as a way to cope.

But it wasn't like he had never come across someone similar to Perpetua. During his time as both Cardinal and Papa, he had spent countless hours with members who needed someone to listen after Mass, someone's hand to hold during stormy nights. But it was different with Perpetua. It seemed like there were still walls that needed to fall before Perpetua felt comfortable enough to confide in Copia, and vice versa. He could see it in the way his twin's shoulders began to rise to his ears, how his eyes strayed to the floor and stayed there the longer the two sat in silence.

"If you ever need to talk," Copia offered lightly. "I'm all ears. All eyes. Might even be the wall. All that jazz."

A flicker of a smile graced Perpetua's face for just a moment before it fell away. "I think I'll feel better once we get more answers about what happened."

"I'll say 'amen' to that," Copia replied with more cheer than he felt. He stood up and offered a hand to Perpetua, who stared at it for a moment. Then, he reached up and took it. The moment his fingers curled around his twin's, there was a deep sigh from the other side of the room. They both jumped at the sound, and Copia turned just in time to see the tips of Terzo's wings flutter before they stilled.

Copia itched to go to his side to check on him, to see how they were doing. But he could see enough of the damage from where he stood, and it made his stomach churn. Guilt trickled over him like the beginning of a storm, and it was quickly growing into a puddle at his feet. But when he felt Perpetua's hand squeeze in his, he steeled himself and did something he had never done before.

He accepted it.

Like rain from the sky, he let it soak into his bones and melt into his skin. It wasn't easy, and it made him tremble slightly from the effort, but it was a start. A start that was long due.

He pulled his brother to his feet, then squeezed Perpetua's hand in return and let it go. "It's about lunch time, yeah? Let's head over to the library and see what we can figure out."

Perpetua stared at their half-brothers on the ground.

"I think," his twin said slowly. "That I'll stop by the infirmary on the way there. For some ice."

Copia smiled at him. It was a step forward. A beginning.

Chapter 14: Deluded by wisdom, the bringer of night

Notes:

I didn't mean for an entire month to pass by without an update but whateverrrr. Summertime always kicks my ass in the worst way possible, so I really appreciate every kudos, comment, or bookmark. I really, really do. I hope u all have a wonderful day, and I hope u enjoy this chapter <33

The Ministry held many secrets, and Copia was going to uncover every single one of them.

His attempts at sneaking out of the daycare had never gone very far, but today he had managed to slip away after he tricked the daycare staff into thinking that there was a mouse infestation in the nearby kitchen by using Myrtle, his favorite rat, to scurry around the kitchen floor. He would have to find a way to make sure that his small friend didn’t get caught in any traps later.

He peeked around the corner and tilted his head up, up, up. The hallway before him was long and bathed in sunlight. He almost had to squint because of how luminous it was. Paintings along the walls caught his attention one after the other. Some depicted fiery realms, others fields of flowers. Doors twice his size remained closed, begging for Copia to open them and peek inside. This was the furthest he had ever been away from the daycare wing, and it was already so exciting.

As he was about to take his first step into this new world, he saw a shadow in an alcove down the hall move. A woman stepped out, one he didn’t recognize. She was pretty, with bright blonde hair and deep green eyes. Her clothing was different from what he usually saw Clergy members wear. Sleek black dress pants and a black sleeveless high-neck top. He stared at her as she seemed to materialize out of the marbled wall behind her. She turned and pressed a finger against the statue of a gargoyle next to her, and the stone wall slid shut. He hunkered down, suddenly worried she would spot him, but she turned the opposite direction and walked briskly down the hall.

Once she was out of sight, he ran to where he had seen her appear. The statue was on a tall pedestal, and he had to stand on the tips of his toes to get a better view of it. It bared its teeth at him as it crouched with its head low. He bared his teeth back with a growl. He wasn’t scared of some statue; he was brave!

He held onto the pedestal to balance himself as he began to poke and prod at the gargoyle. He didn’t see what exactly the woman had pressed to get the door to close, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

His finger slid into the creature’s mouth and pressed on its tongue. It gave way easily with a click, and the wall next to it slid open. It revealed a spiral stone staircase with lit sconces. Thick cobwebs hung from the iron fixtures, and he sniffed at the smell of dust and time.

He walked into the passageway with wide eyes. This was like something from one of the books he’s read. And just like in those books, there had to be something hidden, and he was going to find it.

As he hurried up the stairs, he saw a lever to his right. Curious, he pulled it down with both hands and jumped when the door behind him slid shut.

“Wow,” he whispered, then smiled. He turned and ran up the stairs, his footsteps loud in the small space around him.

It didn’t take him long to reach the end. Instead of a door like he had envisioned, it was just a dead end. On the wall in front of him was a wire grate. He pouted in disappointment and walked up to it. He had to roll onto the tips of his toes to look through, and he squinted at what he saw.

His eyes swept over a door, the two statues of demons on either side of it, large and eerie. A room bathed in soft light from lamps in every corner. The rug on the wooden floor was thin with age and foot traffic, the pattern hard to make out. A desk at the back of the room, its bordered trim and carved artwork on the front gleamed with a fresh coat of polish. It was an office. And at its desk was Papa Nihil. Copia sucked in a breath when he saw who was standing before Papa. Primo, the first son, whom Copia heard, was almost always in trouble.

And he was angry.

“Are you fucking serious, Nihil?” Primo asked. He had his hands on Papa’s desk and was leaning toward him, his back to Copia. His hair was like a curtain of black down his back.“You’re just going to let her run this place like she’s the leader of the Ministry, and not you?”

“Primo,” Papa said lowly. “Enough. Like I said before, she’s the most competent person here.”

“Competent. Right. And you’re not?” He snorted and shook his head. Copia watched as his hair turned into waves at the motion. “If the papacy is just sitting behind a desk while Sister Imperator runs this place, then count me out. Give it to Secondo when he’s of age, I don’t give a fuck. You know how she treats the three of us, even Terzo, and he’s just a kid!”

“Maybe she’d give you the respect you want if you truly earned it,” Papa replied. All Copia could see was his skeletal face and the white eye that blazed among black paint. “Instead, you galavant around the Ministry with your playthings and don’t take your duties seriously. You think you’re fit for the papacy? I’d give it to a newborn before considering you as a worthy heir.”

“I don’t have to prove shit,” Primo spat. “Not to you, you fucking deadbeat, and definitely not to her. Fuck, I wish I could just leave this place-“

“Then go.”

Silence. Copia held his breath and ignored the burn in his legs. Both men stared at each other.

“Just like that?” Primo asked, his voice quiet, almost feeble. Like he was a child instead of a man in his early-thirties. “You’d let me leave?”

“Why would I keep you here?” Papa inquired. He placed his hands on the desk and slowly stood. Copia flinched at the sight. “You said it yourself: you don’t want the papacy. You’d much rather live your life outside of these walls. So, go. Just know that you’re not suited for that world. You’ve grown up like a prince inside a castle. And princes don’t exist outside of fairytales, my boy. Not like you.”

Primo snarled something incomprehensible before saying, “I’m not your fucking boy. You never cared about me being your son, don’t start now.”

“Oh, trust me. I won’t. And if you do go, take the other two with you. Maybe then you’ll learn some responsibility, hm?”

“Fuck you. Fuck. You.” Primo spat, then pivoted on his heel and stormed out of the room. Copia jumped when the door slammed. The grate rattled under his fingers from the force of it.

Papa sighed and slumped back in his chair. Copia watched as he rubbed his fingers into his temples.

“If only she were your mother,” he heard Papa say to himself, his low voice echoing up to Copia's ears. “Then maybe you wouldn’t have turned out like me. All three of you.”

—

The two swung by the infirmary before heading to the library. On the way, Perpetua quietly confided the full story to Copia. Marika's lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it) appearance and willingness to assist Perpetua with dragging Copia to the infirmary. When Perpetua mentioned Bee, he quieted before telling Copia that it had been the one to get the ghouls to the basement. Copia sensed that there was more to the story, but didn't know how to pry it out of his brother. Instead, he awkwardly pointed at Perpetua's wrists, then mentally slapped himself when he saw Perpetua's jaw clench and his hands curl into his chest.

"Don't want to talk about it," he muttered. Copia reluctantly let the subject drop, but couldn't banish the image of reddened wrists from his mind. He wished he knew how to draw out Perpetua's full-body laugh that seemed to come naturally before everything went to shit. He wished he could go back in time and hug his brother at that first meeting in his office. He wished for another fucking pudding cup.

He had previously wondered how Perpetua had coped with his disruptive, lonely past. And it seemed he had the answer, one that he suspected but didn't - couldn't - fully acknowledge. More to protect his own peace, as selfish as it was. This new, unfamiliar pain of imagining his brother inflicting wound after wound on himself for years it was like the first time he had broken a bone; agonizing, stinging, encompassing. He didn't know how to navigate this situation at all, but he could at least guide Perpetua back to the infirmary to get himself checked out. A gesture that seemed like putting a Band-Aid on a broken bone, but it was better than nothing.

The moment the two stepped inside the brightly lit lobby, Copia waved down Doctor Imani and had him meet them in the first available room. Nurse Stephanie slipped in behind him and tsked when she saw Perpetua's dejected slump. She ignored his moodiness and herded Perpetua onto the bed to get a better look at him. Copia asked the doctor if he could take a peek at Perpetua's soul.

"It's not as bad," Doctor Imani said to them. His shoulders drooped as he neared the end of his shift, his eyes dark with exhaustion behind his thick-framed glasses. He leaned back in his chair with a loud sigh. "The signs are there, though. Like… when a banana starts to bruise. How its peel starts to brown in some spots. Not enough to stop you from eating the banana, but it does make you look it over to see if it's still good."

"There isn't anything wrong with a ripened banana," chirped Nurse Stephanie from where she was carefully applying a salve to Perpetua's wrists, his gloves tugged off and on the bed next to him. She had looked them over with quick efficiency and didn't make any fuss over it, which Copia was grateful for. And, judging by the way Perpetua had closed his eyes as she rubbed the salve over them, he was, too. "Ripe bananas are perfect for banana bread. And your soul is still in good condition, Papa. It's not as bad."

"Not as bad as what?" Perpetua asked. Stephanie gently instructed him to take off his jacket, and he did so, folding it in his lap.

"As mine," Copia replied. He had pilfered another pudding cup and scooped some into his mouth using a popsicle stick. "My soul is fucked, and it has been for a long time. I wonder when your soul started to show the same signs."

Perpetua opened his eyes but didn't reply. Instead, he made grabby hands at Copia, his eyes focused on Copia's snack. He sighed and pulled out the pudding cup he had awkwardly shoved in his pocket and handed it to Perpetua along with a popsicle stick.

Doctor Imani placed his glasses on top of his head and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I hope the two of you don't suddenly keel over in the next few weeks. We can't lose both the head of the Clergy and the leader of the Ministry. I still have nightmares from when I had to do paperwork for Papa Nihil's and Sister's deaths. And even that didn't compare to the Papas' paperwork."

"What he really intends to say," Stephanie cut in. She had Perpetua hold a thin ice pack to his shoulder as she wrapped it in medical tape to keep it in place. "Is that we all greatly appreciate and care for the two of you, and would be devastated if anything happened to you two." While her smile was reassuring, Copia saw the worried glint in her eyes.

"Thank you for your concern," his twin said quietly. He raised the cup of pudding as well. "And for the pudding."

"You know, I only knew about the whole issue with their souls, including Sister's, because the previous doctor left it behind in his notes," Doctor Imani said. "He was fired right after the Papas were… murdered. A few charts that I found stuffed in the back of a filing cabinet in his office. They were the last physicals of all the higher members of the Clergy, the four Papas and Sister. Your brothers' and Sister's souls were noted to be damaged without a plausible cause."

"When exactly were you hired, Doctor?" Perpetua asked.

"Right after the Papas' funerals." He chuckled wryly. "I honestly had no idea what I was getting into. I was laid off from my previous job due to funding, and so when I accepted a position at a satanic abbey… it was a culture shock, to be sure. I didn't know the Papas at all. For weeks, I dealt with despondent patients and nurses who would burst into tears at the mere mention of one of the Papas."

Copia swallowed against the curdling feeling in his gut. How he hated that part of his life. "What was the previous doctor's name?

Imani paused. "Leer? I can't recall his first name." He glanced at his watch and muttered something about his break.

"All done!" Stephanie said with a wide smile.

Doctor Imani was already standing as he looked over a medical chart. He grunted a farewell and left the room, barking at another nurse to follow him back to the maternity ward.

As Nurse Stephanie gathered materials to put away, Copia tossed his empty pudding cup and cleared his throat. "Uh - Stephanie?"

She hummed in acknowledgement. Perpetua glanced at Copia with a question in his eyes as he slid off the bed.

"Do you know anything about Doctor Leer?" He asked.

The cabinet door squeaked under her hand as she froze. Her back was turned to them, but Copia didn't miss the sudden timidness in her voice as she responded with a soft, "Yes."

Copia met Perpetua's eyes and raised a fist in triumph. Perpetua shook his head, but returned it, albeit with less excitement.

She lowered her arm but didn't turn around. "His name was Thomas Leer. He and I… we were involved romantically. Off and on for many years," she said. Her hands worked on a bundle of gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it around her hand before undoing it. "We were childhood friends. My parents had fallen victim to drugs and left me alone on the streets as a toddler, and his mother had died giving birth to him. He and his father joined the Ministry around the same time I stumbled upon their doorstep."

"Because of that, we both found solace in the busy halls of the infirmary. He would scurry around the maternity ward at odd hours beside doctors and nurses, hold hands with teenage mothers when he was only a teenager himself, or he'd talk to them to help them figure out their next move. I would sit with silent alcoholics as they shook through withdrawal when I was only fifteen years old, and play cards with people fighting addictions to opium or meth to offer them some relief."

"That's admirable," Perpetua remarked softly. "The Ministry is lucky to have had you two here." Copia nodded in agreement.

"His name doesn't ring a bell," he confessed softly.

"Well, you never had any business in the maternity ward, did you?" Stephanie sucked in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I'm well on my way to seventy years old, Frater. And yet, I still have nightmares every now and then hearing my mother choke on her own vomit as she died, and seeing my father's corpse begin to rot in that tent." She shook her head. "I did what I could so that they didn't suffer what my parents did. He did the same for all those who spent a night in one of our beds. But this isn't what you two are here for, is it?" She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and turned to face them. At the sight of the determined glint in her eye and straight back, Copia straightened as well.

"Sister told him his last job would be performing the autopsies on the Papas," she told them. "I think he uncovered something that he wasn't supposed to when he prepared their bodies."

"What was it?" Copia asked, suddenly nervous. Perpetua shifted on his feet and ran a finger along his bandaged wrist.

"I don't know. One day, he was here, and the next? Gone. I almost quit myself, but I had spent too much of my life here. My life was more than my best friend, my lover. It had to be. All of Sister's medical records vanished. And then Doctor Imani was hired, and the Papas were killed. And you know what?" Stephanie pressed a thumb to the corner of her eye to catch a tear before it fell. "I think Sister was the happiest I had ever seen her after that."

—

Copia and Perpetua left the infirmary soon after that. Stephanie had handed Perpetua a few packs of burn ointment to apply to his wrists before hurrying to meet with another nurse to begin their next round of checking in on patients.

The two walked with a morose air to the library. Copia didn't know what to say to fill the silence, and so he kept his mouth shut. Whenever he glanced at his twin, he saw his eyes were dark in thought, his shoulders rigid. He had slipped the jacket back on, the ice pack barely discernible.

When they made it to the library, he gave a weak greeting to Adam, who seemed to sense their sullen mood and only gave them a simple reminder about the books that were still checked out in their name. He informed them that Anya had set aside a study room for them. Perpetua fell in step beside Copia as they wove through bookshelves to the back of the library.

When Copia looked through the small window in the door and saw Bee's limp red hair, unstyled, he paused before turning to shove past Perpetua.

"What's wrong?" Perpetua asked, confused.

"Bee is what's wrong," Copia muttered petulantly. He glanced through the window again. It was sitting at the table and writing in a notebook. "I don't know why it's here. And, quite frankly, I need a cigarette before handling it," he joked. Mostly. Kinda.

Perpetua stiffened next to him. Thinking it was he said about the joke about cigarettes, he quickly clarified, "I don't smoke, I swear. Or, not anymore. I used to when I was a Cardinal, but that's only because Terzo got me hooked on them during his tour, and-"

Perpetua slipped into the room and marched up to Bee. Anya and it looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Bee," he said. Anya's eyes widened. Bee set down his pencil and cleared its throat.

"Papa," it greeted him, its tone entirely too professional that it bordered on patronizing.

"Can we have a quick word outside?"

Bee blinked up at him before smirking. "With the way you're looking at me, we can do more than that," it purred. Copia gaped at its audacity. And also, ew.

"How about you try that again?" Perpetua murmured. Anya fanned her face with a slip of paper. When she caught Copia's eyes, she mouthed, "Oh, my god."

Bee's flirty expression slipped off its face. It swallowed and stood. "Yes, Papa."

When Copia stepped into the room to allow them to pass, he caught a glimpse of Perpetua's dark expression. Stern and determined with no room for mercy. That, paired with the discolored white eye that signalled his superiority over nearly everyone in the room, the chrome mask, and the leather jacket, made Perpetua downright terrifying. Copia was highly impressed that Perpetua had schooled someone like Bee into obedience, though if he knew Bee at all, he knew it was soaking up the scolding like a sponge.

"Holy fuck," Anya said the moment the door closed behind them. She pressed the backs of her hands to her white, painted cheeks. "That was one of the hottest things I've ever seen. I don't think I've ever seen him so intense."

"Neither have I," Copia agreed absently, his eyes still on the door. And he was a little glad for that.

—

Once the door was shut, Perpetua turned on his heel to face the ghoul specialist. He didn't take time to think about what he was doing, as the second he would he'd lose all momentum. A weak drive to convince the specialist that the two of them should start on a new slate.

"If this is about yesterday-" Bee started.

"It is," Perpetua confirmed. A flash of annoyance in Bee's face made heat burn the back of Perpetua's neck. He rolled his shoulder and found resilience in the twinge of pain that sparked there.

"It was a justified anger, Bee, about what happened with the ghouls. I - Frater and I - had made a terrible mistake in playing music with the ghouls present. And the way you and I both reacted was unprofessional for our positions."

The longer he spoke, the tighter Bee's face became, as though it was trying to keep itself from exploding from within. Its limp hair hung over its ears as it stared down at Perpetua. Perpetua was suddenly reminded that this person was much taller and stronger than he was.

He cleared his throat and steeled himself. "I'm not asking for another apology, Bee. I just… I'm Papa. I'm supposed to be better at-" he waved a hand around the two of them. "All of this. But I'm not. And it showed yesterday. I'm - I'm trying, alright? I'm trying to be the best Papa that I can be despite my lack of experience with all this."

The sharpness in Bee's gaze dulled slightly. It sighed and turned away from him. "It sure fucking sounds like you want another apology," it muttered. Before Perpetua could even think about what to say to that, Bee shook its head.

"You're so lucky you're hotter than your brother. Fine. I know you said you don't want another apology, but I'll give it to you anyway. I'm sorry for shouting at you; it was rude, and didn't help anyone's situation. And if it caused you any grief… I'm sorry about that, too."

Perpetua, for the first time since yesterday afternoon, allowed himself to relax just a touch. He tried for a small smile.

"I don't think telling me that I'm attractive is professional, either," he joked softly.

When Bee's face was wiped of all emotion, he froze, suddenly worried he had misstepped. The specialist cleared its throat, nodded, and said in a strangled voice, "Yup. Definitely hotter than your brother." It went to slip past Perpetua, but he raised an arm to block it. Its neutral expression turned slightly sour as it looked at him.

"I'm trying to save the rest of my dignity here, Papa," it deadpanned.

"I have a question about ghouls," Perpetua quickly said. Bee perked up at the mention of them.

"What is it?"

Perpetua glanced at the door behind them. When he saw that Copia was engaged in an intense conversation with Anya, he asked, "How common is it for ghouls to be able to transport themselves?"

Bee folded its arms and tilted its head back in thought. "In general, it's the rarest ability for ghouls to manifest in our realm. Here at the Ministry, of the 112 ghouls that we have, only 14 can teleport via shadows. Why?"

Perpetua chewed on the inside of his cheek before he answered. "When we were leaving the library yesterday, I saw one of my ghouls disappear under a table. I'm pretty sure it was the drummer. The fourth ghoul that neither of us can locate."

Bee reached into a pocket of its cargo shorts and pulled out a container for mints and popped it open. Inside were small square pieces of paper and a skinny piece of charcoal.

"And this ghoul was summoned by Mrs. Psaltarian," Bee said to him as it plucked out a paper and a stick of charcoal and snapped the container shut. "Who has no intention of helping you two any further, correct?"

"Correct," Perpetua confirmed quietly.

Bee nodded and laid the paper flat on the wall next to them and drew out a symbol on the paper. Then, it pulled a lighter from a different pocket. "I'm going to burn this; you catch the ashes with your hands. It won't damage your precious gloves, promise."

Perpetua cupped his hands underneath the paper as Bee lit it. He gasped when the flame turned icy blue the moment it touched the paper. Even this small act of magic made his body tingle with wonder. As it turned to ash and fell into his hands, the air became thick and electric, like he was standing in an open field on the cusp of a thunderstorm.

"Now, dust the ash along the front of the door."

He turned his hands over and gently did as he was told. As he did so, he realized he should've asked what Bee was up to before involving him in some spell. The electric feeling in the air dissipated as the ash settled to the ground and disappeared.

"There." Bee pocketed his belongings. "That was a spell to deter any magic from entering this room. It'll last until I use the counterspell. You can't use this spell 'cuz you don't have enough juice or expertise, so don't get any ideas."

"You think Mrs. Psaltarian can't be trusted," Perpetua surmised. "That the ghoul is hers."

Bee sent him a perplexed look. "Isn't that what you were getting at? She summoned a ghoul - by herself, might I add, which is incredibly dangerous - and gave it to you. A ghoul that seems to be spying on you, and maybe Frater, too. And despite the fact that her nephews are in danger, she's made no move to help. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Unfortunately, it very much did. Perpetua swallowed against a sudden anger to have once again been betrayed by another adult who was supposed to have his back. It was a welcome anger in one way, to have it directed at someone else for once today. But the rage that burned through him was so intense that it left him trembling.

He recalled his outburst at the beach house, how he had shouted to the blue sky and dying sun about their family's history of betrayal. And Copia's deflated response to him. Where was the anger that had fueled Prequelle? The anger that had inflamed his brother's eyes as he confronted Bee about their mother's ritual. Where was it? It was as though the two had switched emotions. Perpetua felt fueled by injustices stacked against him and his brother, while Copia let the flames sputter and die.

"Yo, Papa," Bee said. "You good?"

He blinked through the red that edged his vision. "I'm - I'm fine. I've barely eaten all day, and it's getting to me."

Bee looked him over, unsure. "Sucks. Uh- grab something to eat after this, yeah?" It pointed at the door. "You wanna go in first?"

He sucked in a breath to calm the roiling in his stomach and opened the door. Anya and Copia were at the whiteboard and quickly talking while underlining phrases from the notes of the ritual, Saecula Saeculorum. Bee stepped in behind him and shut the door.

Anya turned to them with a smile that bordered on mania. "We think we figured something out."

Copia mirrored Anya's excitement, but it dimmed when his eyes fell on Perpetua. He sent him a thumbs-up and a raised eyebrow. Perpetua smoothed his face into something more amicable and returned it with a tired smile. Copia studied him for a moment longer before shrugging.

"What is it?" Perpetua asked. He followed Bee to the whiteboard and leaned against the table.

"I was going through what happened yesterday with Detective Miss Anya," Copia said. He winked at her and glared at Bee when it snorted. "And as her assistant, I - uh - assisted her with figuring out why our brothers transformed."

Perpetua gripped the table underneath him but didn't say a word. He simply nodded for them to continue.

"So we started with the ritual," Anya said. She pulled a ruler from… somewhere, and tapped it underneath the scribbles of notes. "It's all based on connection, right? Connections between the souls. Connections that have been sustained for years." She tapped on a drawing of six stick figures, each labeled and drawn to represent the five brothers and Sister.

"Why do I have a top hat and… wings?" Perpetua interjected. "And why does Frater get to be the tallest?"

"Shush!" Copia hissed. "Detective Miss Anya is speaking."

The ruler made a scraping noise as she circled around Sister and Copia. "These two have the worst souls, from what we know. So, if mother and son have soul cancer-"

"Soul cancer? Seriously?" Bee asked.

"It's basically what it is!" Anya said. She poked its arm with her ruler. "Shut up."

Bee huffed and picked up a marker and began to draw.

"Stop drawing nipples on my Venn diagram!" Copia snapped. "What are you, a child?"

"In my heart, yes," Bee replied.

"Can you make the one on the right just a little bigger?" Anya asked. "So that they look a little more realistic."

Bee nodded and shaded it in. Perpetua watched it all happen from his post against the table. He felt as though he was seventeen years old again and in high school, watching the other students meander into cliques in hallways and in classrooms. Nobody ever acknowledged him, nobody ever looked his way. His body buzzed as it struggled to find its place in the world, in this moment of time. His gaze unfocused as his mind pulled anchor and drifted out to sea.

"Papa?" Anya asked. "Papa - um - Perpetua?"

He fixed his distant stare on her. "Yes?"

She handed him a marker with a smile. Perpetua stood in place for a moment. He stared back at her, almost confused. But as Anya beamed at him, and Copia paused his bickering with Bee to give him another concerned look, he grabbed hold of the sails and aimed them back to shore.

He took the marker. Copia looked him over and smiled.

"What am I doing with this?" Perpetua asked Anya.

She pointed at the board. "Quick doodle break. We're drawing a busty woman on the whiteboard for morale."

But we just started… he thought, but even he could see the appeal of having a silly drawing to look at in the face of the heaviness. As he sketched out a torso with a tiny waist, he allowed himself this one moment to let everything slip away from his mind. He focused on the squeaks from the markers, the quiet muttering of Copia as he watched everyone defile his diagram. The air grew warm from four adults packed into one small room, so Perpetua stepped back to slip his jacket off and folded it over a chair.

"Papa! Your shoulder!" Anya exclaimed.

He glanced at it. He had forgotten that he had a pack of ice taped over it and tugged it off. It had already melted into a lukewarm sludge that left a damp spot that soaked into the thick fabric of his sweater.

"An accident from yesterday." He said to her. He hoped the smile on his face was convincing enough to calm her worry. Luckily, his gloves hid the bandages along his wrists. "Nothing serious."

"Yeah, he's a big boy; he can handle himself," Bee said absently. Copia wrinkled his nose at the phrase.

"Back to the subject at hand," he said, even as he picked up his own marker and squeezed in next to Perpetua to draw a face to complete their model. "So, Sister and my souls are fucked up. By logic, that should mean that Perpetua's is also fucked up. But it's not. I mean, it's decayed a little bit, sure." He smacked a hand against the diagram. It was hard to make out amidst the breasts, but one side was labeled Copia/Sister, and the other side was Perpetua.

"Sister and I have lived here our entire lives," Copia continued. "But Perpetua didn't join until recently. There's a difference. Sister and I have known the Papas our entire lives, while Perpetua has only know them for the past three months while they were in ghouls." He stepped to the side and began drawing a web. In the center were two of them and Sister. He stretched a line out from himself and labeled the end of it "Papas."

"Mine and Sister's souls were within the same property as theirs our entire lives. If the ritual feeds on connection, that could be why our souls decay much more. Because we've been "connected" closer to them." He emphasized the line between him and the Papas. "And with my music, think of it as a web. You know how spiders sense prey caught in their web via vibrations? What if my songs did that? My connection to them is much stronger because I've lived with them in these halls my entire life. And my music kind of… reminded them of that. Made them… remember." He stepped back and regarded his diagrams, and Perpetua did the same.

"I guess that makes sense," Anya mused, and Perpetua nodded in agreement. "Music holds memories. Emotions. What song were you singing when the ghouls transformed?"

"Eh- Life Eternal."

"And what was that song written about?"

As Copia seemingly struggled to figure out how to answer that question, Perpetua finally took in his outfit. A faded ABBA tee and jeans, no gloves. Worn-out sneakers. He didn't look like Frater Imperator, the leader of the Ministry. He looked… well, he looked like an ordinary man. Perpetua almost entertained a moment where he and Copia lived normal lives, had a normal relationship. But then he saw the gleam of white in Copia's left eye, and that dream vanished and was replaced with a foolish emptiness.

"Oh, you know. Stuff." When he saw the unimpressed looks given to him by all three people in the room, he straightened, indignant. "Personal stuff. About death. About immortality. "

"You sang a song about immortality in front of your three brothers, who basically achieved that but without their consent?" Bee asked. Its voice was light, but Perpetua could hear the jab that seemed to hit home as Copia scowled at it.

"I didn't sing it," Copia muttered. He jerked his chin at Perpetua. "He did."

Perpetua frowned. "That song was your idea."

"I wanted to play Helvetesfönster!"

"But then you changed your mind because you thought that song was a good fit for them!"

A ruler cut the air between the two of them with a hiss. "How about you two shelve that argument for another day?" Anya asked, a smile poking at her lips. "If it even needs to happen at all. What's done is done. Can't change how you made it after the food's been eaten, is what my dad used to say."

Perpetua relaxed against the table. Annoyance simmered under his skin, but with it was a stability that made him feel as though he was finally standing on his own two feet instead of hovering like a ghost. He met his twin's eye and bit down on a smile when Copia turned from him with an exaggerated whip of his head.

"What would've happened if you had kept playing Frater's music?" Anya speculated. "Is this something where their souls were trying to escape their ghoul hosts? Why did they manifest wings, horns, and teeth?"

The three of them turned to Bee. It startled and raised its hands. "Why are you all looking at me?"

"You're the ghoul specialist," Anya said. She poked it again. "Specialize."

It batted it away with a scowl. "I'm in the dark as much as you three. I know everything about ghouls, yeah, but when I tried to read their magical signatures, I had no idea what it was."

"Maybe we can ask Marika!" Copia exclaimed. "She put their souls in ghouls; maybe she can tell us."

Bee met Perpetua's eyes with a deadpan stare. It waved a hand to signal that he would be the one to handle Copia, not it.

She's hiding something, Perpetua thought desperately. What if she's stringing Copia along to cover it up?

"If she didn't tell us yesterday," he carefully reasoned. "Then why would she tell us now?"

Copia's enthusiasm faded slightly. He shook his head. "I'll swing by her office later and ask-"

"I'll do it," Perpetua promised quickly. He saw Anya and Bee exchange awkward glances. "I'll talk to her later. I want to thank her for helping us out."

"Why can't I?" Copia challenged. He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up. "I know her better, and we just spoke this morning."

"I already have an appointment with her," Perpetua lied. The lie felt as though it burned his tongue as it left his mouth, but he didn't want his brother to have anything more to do with their aunt until Perpetua could figure out her motives. "I want to thank her for helping us out yesterday."

"Oh," Copia said. He shuffled on his feet and rolled his marker between his hands. "Sure, then. That's - that's fine."

An awkward silence filled the room. Bee pulled out a pack of gum and shook it. "This is the worst episode of Scooby-Doo ever. Anyone want a piece?"

Copia ignored it and pointed his marker at it. "Who invited this… thing?"

Bee popped a stick of gum in its mouth and chewed loudly. "Anya dragged me from my dungeons."

Anya raised her hand. "I'll take some gum. And yes, I did drag it here. I thought it would be helpful."

Copia eyed the army of doodle-ghouls that Bee had quickly drawn after abandoning their beautiful model. "Sure. Helpful. Yep."

"Honestly, I don't even know why I'm here, either," Bee said. It blew a bubble and chomped on it. "But, here's what I can say: the ghouls are in a lasagna situation. Two layers of spells, one completed, the other left on read." It thought for a moment. "You know how tectonic plates shifting can cause volcanic eruptions and earthquakes? Imagine that the two spells - the original ritual performed forty years ago, and the one to place their souls in ghouls - are two plates. If they live in harmony, they should be fine, right? But when one acts up and starts grinding on a plate next to it, it causes a terrible reaction. That's what I think happened here. Frater's stronger connection to their souls through his music disrupted that harmony and caused the original ritual to act up."

"Can ghouls have physical characteristics like our brothers?" Perpetua asked.

"In their realm, maybe," Bee replied. "As much as we love ghouls topside, we actually don't know very much about their realm. It could very well be that we're witnessing physical manifestations of ghouls from their realm." It bared its teeth in a hedonistic grin. "And if that's the case, I want to be the one to uncover it."

"Okay, please don't refer to them like they're science experiments and you're about to bring them to some science fair," Copia interjected. "And we need to get back on the same page. We need a clear goal."

"Isn't the goal to release their souls?" Bee asked.

"Yes," Anya said. "Duh. But how are we going to achieve that? We don't even know the full story."

"Maybe we should break it up," Perpetua suggested. "I can see what I can drag out of Mrs. Psaltarian. You two," he pointed at Anya and Copia. "Could look at the books and what we know about the ritual and the song Zenith, and Bee can try to dig some more info from the ghouls' arcane signatures or… something."

"Or something," Bee agreed, its grin still plastered on its face.

Anya smacked loudly on her gum. "Bee will try to figure out the ghouls. Papa will talk to Mrs. Psaltarian, Frater and I will hit the books," she repeated.

"We will?" Copia whined. Anya raised a sculpted brow. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Sounds - eh - good. I love books. I have some in my rooms right now, actually."

"I know," she said sweetly. "We've been sending emails to you about returning them. You, too, Papa."

Perpetua winced. "I'll return them tonight," he promised.

Bee scooped up its notebook and left without a word. Its departure signalled the end of the meeting, so Perpetua shrugged his jacket back on and grabbed his ice pack. Anya wrote something on her hand before following Copia and Perpetua out of the room, then locking it behind her with a key attached to a large ring of them.

"If you two need in to this room." She jangled the keys. "Just let me or Adam know, yeah?"

They nodded, and Anya bid the two goodbye with a wave.

"So," Copia said. He grabbed his hands behind his back and rolled to the tips of his toes. "Are you feeling better? You seem like you're finally - well - present. In the moment."

"I am," Perpetua replied. "Yesterday was… hard. It was scary and weird, and reminded me a little bit of my old life." He met Copia's eyes and looked away when he saw the concern in them. "I don't know if I can do this, Copia. If I can be Papa," he admitted in a rush.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Copia reach out, then stop, then continue. Hands gripped Perpetua's shoulders and squeezed.

"I'm gonna hug you now," Copia proclaimed to the empty hallway. "And you're gonna like it."

"Christ, Copia, you can just ask-" Perpetua began, but his twin interrupted him.

"New rule as Frater Imperator. You're banished from saying anything about Jesus, or Catholics, or Mary and Joseph and Peter and John and Steve and William-"

"Oh, I must have missed those last two apostles at the orphanage," Perpetua said, his voice shaking from restrained laughter. Copia mirrored the smile that was growing on his face. A real smile, huge and unrepetant.

"Can't believe you missed the book of Steve and William," Copia said with a tsk and a shake of his head. "You're a shit Catholic. But-" he patted Perpetua's shoulder. "A wonderful Satanist. And a great Papa. Well, second-best Papa. After me, of course."

Finally, fucking finally, Perpetua laughed. He laughed at the swell of appreciation and mirth that came from Copia's jokes, at the bone-deep gratitude of being told that he was a good Papa. Copia pulled him in tight, and Perpetua felt his shirt bunch up in Copia's hands where they grabbed a hold of him.

"You're not doing it right," Copia muttered. Perpetua slipped his arms around his brother and hugged him in return. Tears threatened to fall, but he willed them to stay put. He had done enough crying in the past day.

Copia gave him one last squeeze, then stepped back. "What time is your appointment with Marika?"

Oh, shit. He quickly thought about his schedule, then lied, "At about - um - three? In a few hours?"

Copia nodded and grinned. "Enough time for a field trip to your nesting grounds."

"My what?"

Copia clapped his hands together. "We're going to the choir room. I never gave you a personal tour of the Ministry, right? We're fixing that. Starting today, I'll be your official guide to the wonders of the best Satanic church on this side of the ocean."

"Why the choir room?" Perpetua asked, confused.

"Because you used to be a teacher, duh. And," Copia added as he walked past Perpetua. "I actually need to talk to the head of that department, and she scares me, but she has a huge crush on you, so I'm hoping your presence will help mellow her out."

"Talk to her about what?"

"Our favorite problem child," Copia said over his shoulder. "I don't know if you've met her. Micah Santos."

It seemed the day wasn't done pushing Perpetua past his limits. He followed Copia to the choir room and ignored the resignation that grew with every step.