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A feared one.

But here he was still just my boy.

I dipped my thumb into the oil and placed it gently against his forehead.

“In the name of the Father…”

I drew the small cross across his skin.

“…and of the Son…”

Then over his chest.

“…and of the Holy Spirit.”

The scent of olive oil and incense filled the small room.

Ares sat still while I prayed over him.

“Lord protect my son from the darkness that follows men who carry swords.”

My voice stayed soft but steady.

“Protect his mind.”

“Protect his heart.”

“And forgive him for the things he must do in a world that refuses to protect the innocent.”

I wiped the oil from my fingers and placed the gold cross in his hand.

“Keep this on you.”

He looked down at it.

“Your grandmother gave that to me when I was younger than you.”

I handed him the small bottle of oil next.

“And this stays with you.”

He slipped the cross over his neck.

The chain rested against his chest.

“You still believe prayer changes anything?” he asked.

I smiled. “I believe it keeps the devil from getting comfortable.”

That made him chuckle.

He stood and kissed my cheek.

“I’m going back to Monaco tomorrow by train.”

“Be careful, Ares, and you are doing a good job with Azaria. She is almost ready.”

He walked toward the door, then paused.