After going to the hospital, they went to the bar. Piotr made Mircea and Ivan stumble in there right before opening time, to ensure every one of their employees was there to see the show. He even took the crutches away from Ivan, who had to cling to Mircea to stay upright. Mircea’s face had swollen from the pain, and both he and Ivan were pale and drawn from their injuries. The employees all gasped at the sight of them, and Piotr rolled in like a ringmaster behind them.
“Look what that Catholic Church has done!” he roared with theatrical fervour. “It takes money from the poor, turns away the starving, does unspeakable things to children, and look what they do to people who try to stand up to them!” He gestured wildly to Mircea and Ivan. “These two are covered in mysterious sores and are in pain. The doctors can’t explain this – we just came from the hospital!”
The bar staff and the dancers huddled together, looking at Ivan and Mircea wordlessly. Ivan groaned.
“This is not the work of the Church,” he began, stubbornly refusing to follow the lead of the man who had shot him. Mircea crushed him into his side, effectively muffling his words. Piotr had heard them, nonetheless.
“This is the devil’s work!” Piotr declared in a shout that would rival any evangelical preacher’s. Several of the dancers flinched at the words, but Mircea saw the waiter’s eyes roll heavenward. He tried to single the sceptic out.
“How do you explain it, then Oleg?” The pain in his jaw kept him from being able to yell like Piotr. The waiter, said nothing, taking in the shattered appearance of Mircea and Ivan. Mircea could see his mind working, realising that if the Church wasn’t responsible, Piotr was. And someone who would handicap his own lieutenants would do worse things to underlings.
“What happened? Oleg asked cautiously, pretending to buy into the dramatics. He twisted his face into an expression of horror, and shrank back, practically hiding behind the dancers.
“Someone has been crying to the Catholic church about us,” Piotr thundered. “We give you jobs, but you moan to the church about us…Mircea and Ivan went to meet with the priest to explain how we only have your best interests at heart, and he called down black magic on them!”
Mircea could feel Ivan struggling against him, trying to say something, so he dropped to his knees, dragging Ivan down with him. “The pain!” Mircea wailed. Actually, his face did hurt.
“Look at what the Church did! “Piotr cried. The employees looked frightened and confused, but fortunately, only Oleg still looked suspicious. He saw Piotr’s eyes on him, so he feigned fear as well. Ivan was trying to cry out, but Mircea kept his face pressed into his side.
“Do you want to make it worse?” Mircea hissed loudly at Ivan, referring to Piotr.
“It hurts,” Ivan managed weakly.
“Do you see what that Church has done?” Piotr asked. “They could only bring their voodoo down on Mircea and Ivan – I’m made of stronger stuff.” Mircea grimaced at the way Piotr was able to twist the situation into one where he looked weak. Piotr raised a warning finger to heaven. “Can you see what they do to the frail? They won’t stop at just Mircea and Ivan…if you don’t do what they want, they’ll get you, too!” Piotr now pointed that finger at individual employees, who shrieked as the gesture was turned on them. Mircea was in physical pain and agony that he wasn’t coming off well in this show, but he had to grudgingly admire Piotr’s showmanship.
“Stay away from those demons,” Mircea croaked. “They wear the cross, but they don’t serve it!” He thought of Michael with those words and had to fight back a smile.
Several of the employees were crying now. Mircea saw his chance to control the show, and grabbed it. “I forgive you,” he said dramatically. “You couldn’t know what unnatural evil you were releasing when you went to them…!”
Ivan writhed to get away from Mircea’s grip, and Piotr pounced on him. “Look at how Ivan struggles!” he shouted, forcing Ivan nearly to the ground. Mircea could see that Oleg didn’t believe a word of it, but was truly terrified at the lengths they were going to to quash any rebellion. It was a ridiculous thing to expect people to be terrified of spirits in the twenty-first century, but it seemed to be working on the stupid workers.
“Stay away from that Church,” Mircea wailed, and suddenly, his jaw jumped with an unnatural popping sound. Probably all the prodding that stupid drunken surgeon had done was aggravating it. Screaming in the pain he didn’t have to fake, Mircea fell to the ground. Piotr was so surprised he let go of Ivan.
Ivan seized his chance and crawled forward. “Make it stop,” he pleaded. Through a haze of agony, Mircea knew Ivan was asking him to stop acting, but the employees thought he was addressing them.
“It wasn’t me,” one of the waitresses wept. (She was too fat to be a dancer.) “It was Milla! She said the Church could help us!” There was a collective murmur of assent among the employees.
Piotr had grabbed Ivan again, using a hug to smash his face into his shoulder, to keep him quiet. “Milla?”
“The new girl at the laundry,” the waitress clarified. “The pretty one.”
The fit one, Mircea realised. He rolled onto his back and massaged his aching jaw, remembering her on her knees in front of him. I’ll fix her-!
Piotr was trying to appear grateful and magnanimous. “Thank you for telling us,” he said to the waitress. Mircea could see how hard he was poking Ivan in his sore ribs to ensure his cooperation.
“Thank you,” Ivan gasped.
“Thank you,” Mircea mumbled through his swollen mouth, managing a sitting position, where he was facing the employees. Oleg and a bouncer came forward to help him to his feet. I’m coming to get you, Milla!