River was walking with his usual cock-of-the-walk along the corridor. He greeted the people around him, and he didn't look at all like someone who had lost a trial mere days before.

He put his best smile on his radiant face and knocked on the door.

From inside came the clear sound of a church choir. The moment he knocked, it went silent.

«Come in!» called Garaham's voice from inside.

«Good morning, big brother!»

Garaham glared at him with so much anger anyone else would have exited in silence. But not River.

«Have you no mirror to spend your time in front of, rather than disturb people who have an actual job to do?» he hissed.

«Aw, come on! We never spend time together, can you, for once, be happy to see me? Everyone else is!» River marched towards him. Since he entered, the room was suddenly feeling incredibly smaller.

«I don't know, can you not be here?» he retorted.

River leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk, lowering himself enough to look him in the eyes. Garaham had the face of someone who hasn't slept for days, his eyes were circled with black shadows, even worse than usual, his breath smelt of coffee and stress.

«Sooo... working hard or hardly working, huh?» started River, looking at his nails, trying to find a way to drop the news with a bang.

«And why, pray, would you bring up our High School nicknames?» growled Garaham.

«Speaking of High School, do you remember when we were in 10th grade, and you were absolutely head over heels with Minnie Dudzinski? About yay tall, blonde, giant blue eyes and glasses you could use to make death rays with?» Garaham's hand was holding his Montblanc so tight his knuckles had gone white.

«Let me get this straight. You have lost a trial in front of the whole Order, your newest underling is a sociopath who plays you like a fiddle, we have a werepeople situation that could topple the balance of the supernatural world and you come into my office to talk about Minnie Dudzinski?»

«You see? That's what I was aiming for! You always lose perspective on things. You let your duty blind you, and you can't see the good things that are right in front of you.» River was completely undaunted by Garaham's fit. «You thought it was your duty not to try and get with Minnie Dudzinski because you knew that it would never have been a serious relationship, because of the arranged marriages and stuff, and never even talked to her. I banged Minnie Dudzinski in the gym closet.» he smiled at the sweet remembrance. «...three times.»

Put in front of the choice, Garaham chose to crush the form under his left hand, because he loved that Montblanc too much. He took a deep, deep breath and tried to fight any instinct that was telling him to get the Gatling down the wall and shoot.

«Thanks for this very nice stroll down bad memories lane. Now, if you're content with making my blood pressure skyrocket, can you please, tell me what the bloody hell is the point of your speech?» he hissed.

«Simply that you're too serious, my brother, and that makes you neglect your happiness. You wanted Minnie, but you were too serious, you lost her and I took her.» River stood up, with a seemingly innocent smile. «...just like I took Banshee.»

«I beg your utmost pardon?» Garaham didn't even have voice enough to articulate.

«I banged Banshee. Yesterday night.» River counted on his fingers. «...five times. Pretty good performance. Well, the poor thing had been saving herself for ten years. She was rabid. »

«You know? You could have said you had intercourse with Chico, or even with Vopros and I would have believed it more. I know Banshee like the palm of my hand. She would never sleep with the first, blonde hunk of beef passing under her nose. Either you're going to make me believe you have had a serious relationship behind my shoulders for at least some weeks, or I would never believe her to sleep with someone she's not in love with.» Garaham's voice calmed down.

«Oh, I know. She told me.» River's smile widened, in a sadistic, cruel way. «That's why I had to morph into you.»

Crack went the Montblanc.

«Right, I know, not my best form. Of course, I improved it a bit. For instance, she may think you have way more abs than you have, but it was worth the while. You had to see her! She was so happy! It takes so little! You would have been happy too, if...»

River was good at dispelling, and he was fast. Usually much faster than his brother. But this time he wasn't truly paying attention to Garaham rather than to the sound of his own voice. It took Garaham just a quick movement of the hand to send his brother far, far away. He could morph in anything with fins, he wouldn't have much problems surviving in the open Pacific Ocean.

Garaham looked at the empty room. The ink of the broke Montblanc was staining his hand.

He picked up the phone and called an internal number.

https://youtu.be/Fli0e40JYtk

Like every Tuesday morning, the choir met to rehearse the songs they would have sung on the next Sunday. Banshee was taking off her choir coat, after a quite welcome couple of hours of drowning her own thoughts with music, when she felt Father Browning getting near to her.

He had noticed. She knew.

Ten seconds later she was sitting in the ancient dark-wooden confessional, with purple velvet curtains. It was in a discreet and sheltered corner of the church, right beside the little altar dedicated to Saint Bonaventura, the protector saint of those who tell the truth.

Subtle.

«Well... all rite, forgive me, Father, because I have sinned.» she started, with an unsure voice.

«Yes, that much was clear. Spit it.» born and grown in the darkest low streets of Blackwaters, Arizona, Father Browning's faith had been so strong he had been able to even become a Virtue. With Temperance waiting for you to speak, you speak. And so, Banshee took a deep breath and started.

«Well I... uh... committed impure deeds, Father...»

«Oh! Finally! Finally!» he thundered, banging a giant hand on his knees. «I was getting so tired of all this "I shot this" and "I kicked his ass"!»

«Shouldn't ye condemn me sins and make me repent, Father?» Banshee asked. Father Browning hid a smile.

«Of course, my dear, the Catholic church disapproves impure relations outside the holy matrimony. I, on the other hand, I'm quite much happier to know that you've finally given in to your nature. If I know you, after all, this lucky lad will be wrapped around your ring finger in no time. I'm so happy you finally let that hopeless crush go, and found a good, Irish boy to have a good set of healthy sons and daughters with! A little "enthusiastic impureness" could be well forgiven.» Father Browning lowered his voice, not to broadcast his modern views too loud to the church, but his voice was genuinely happy.

Father Browning was the only one to know exactly her terrible, deepest secret. And he had spent the last ten years trying to snap her out of it. Failing spectacularly.

«Well...» she stretched the "e" a tad too much, and Father Browning frowned. «Let's say that... us could say me committed real impure deeds.»

«I am appalled! Are you trying to tell me you gave yourself away, after all this good time of fasting and preserving yourself for the right man, for a casual one-night stand?»

«River morphed into Garaham, he brought me out for dinner and played the nice and romantic with me. He kissed me. Then he revealed to me it was him and he offered me... ye know... but turned into the Chief, ye see? Next thing I know, we've had... impure acts... five times.» she said, fast and without breathing.

Father Browning was well aware of River's abilities, and fame. He passed a hand over his face, in pure disbelief.

«You can't really have been all right with something like that.» he said.

«Well, I was. And I am! I mean... Chief's married, is he not? All rite, he's not married in a Church, so, before God, he's not, but that's...»

«... not exactly the kind of quibble on which you could build on, as I told you a thousand times...» Father Browning sighed.

«... that, so I simply followed nature! I felt like doing it, and I did! And it was good. Well, great, to be honest.» she spoke a tad too loud. Someone outside the confessional coughed. She didn't care.

«So, you're telling me, in truth, that this wasn't just caving in because River played you like a fiddle... in a number of different interpretations of this imagery?» the good Father asked. She remained silent for some moments, but when she spoke again, her voice was absolutely adamant.

«Would I have preferred him to be actually Garaham? Aye.» she whispered, now, as if she was scared of the thought. As always. «Did I accept just because I was in a weak moment? 'Naye'. It's rite, I've survived a massacre, me life sucks, nothing ever goes me way. River offered me a night of not thinking and not hurting, and I accepted. And it worked. Do I regret it? Just morally. And so, here I am.» she raised her hands, and let them fall down.

Father browning sighed and massaged the back of his head, shaking it slowly. He looked towards the grate that divided the two sections of the confessional, barely able to make out Banshee's features through the thick design of the metal.

«So, no hoping you're cured of your obsession, hm?» he asked.

«Nay.» she shook her head.

«And are you psychologically ready for the aftermath?»

«Aftermath? What aftermath?» her voice took a sudden disquiet tone.

«Oh boy.» he took in a deep breath, looking for the most delicate words he could muster. «Well... how to put this... do you really think that River should ever be able to keep his mouth shu-»

Father Browning never finished that sentence. Because in the silence of the church, and the relative silence of Banshee's mind, she clearly heard a limpid voice talking.

«Good morning. This is the Order's Telepathic Communication Services. I'm going to transmit a recorded message from: Garaham. Have a nice day!» then, the nice feminine voice stopped talking and a deep, angry, terrifying scream filled her head.

Banshee! In my office! Now! There's a portal right outside the rectory!