The three monks of the Order with Bert Bot’s head in Bud’s-bag walked across the bridge lined with angel statues and headed to the battlements at the entrance to the Castel.
“Why do you carry walking stick?” Sam asked.
“It has other properties necessary for our job, Samuele,” Bud said.
“He doesn’t always give direct answers,” Maeve said. “I have a gladius in my bag. They are enchanted weapons that we got from a sacred tree in Scotland. His stick turns into a crossbow.”
“What?! You mean you have the founding member’s weapons?” Sam’s eyes and mouth opened wide.
“I suppose we do, yes.” Maeve smiled.
“Michaela and Magnus’s weapons?!” Sam stopped walking and tried to grab Bud’s walking stick.
“No, the stick is very temperamental. I don’t want to admit this, but since you insist on acting like a kid on Christmas morning…I call it Cranky the Crossbow. It doesn’t like anyone but me touching it. So, touch your own stick. Or is that not allowed in the Order?” Bud turned his shoulder and stick away from Sam.
“Ha! You are funny man, Bud!” Sam laughed.
Bud’s lips curled in a snarl as he watched Sam keel over in laughter.
Maeve’s powerful fist drove into Bud’s bruised shoulder.
“Very well, Maeve. Sheesh.” Bud stopped his snarl.
“Don’t be an ass this entire time,” Maeve whispered in Bud’s ear.
“The Cardinal should be able to give you the answers you seek, Bud.” Sam recovered and led them into the Castel Sant’Angelo. He immediately took a sharp right in the dark hall then down a steep staircase. The lack of light didn’t seem to bother Sam.
The walking stick/crossbow proved useful in keeping Bud balanced. At the bottom of the staircase, a singular light glowed over yet another smaller statue of St. Michael.
“Don’t tell me we push the statue and open up a secret passage.” Bud rolled his eyes.
“No, just walk in, Bud.” Sam walked through the statue and disappeared.
Bud’s bottom lip jutted in confusion and utter shock.
“Is Sam a ghost? That would be a most welcome relief.”
“Bud, let’s go.” Maeve grabbed Bud by the hand and dragged him through the illusory statue.
The other side of the statue showed the 3-D hologram projectors creating the faux wall and statue.
“I must admit that is impressive,” Bud said, looking behind him while Maeve still dragged him forward.
A long sliding door covered the holographic projectors and the illusory entrance.
“Watch your step,” Sam warned. He walked around a broken marble statue of a god in the same position as shown in the Triumph of the Christian Religion painting in the Vatican Museums.
“Are we in the painting?” Maeve asked.
“Well, a three-dimensional representation, one would figure.” Bud pointed to the golden crucifix at the end of the room.
“The Cardinal will be with us shortly,” Sam said.
Bud nodded. “At last, some answers.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ivy emptied a few vials of blood into a cup from the cupboard in her father’s kitchen. She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair then rested her hand on the back of her neck.
“I can’t believe I am doing this.” Ivy took a sip of the blood. She smacked her lips then licked them.
She took another sip.
“Just do it, Ivy.” The Chinese-American gulped the cup filled with blood. The dreadful thirst that had attacked her senses started to subside. The salty mixture somehow quenched her thirst.
Ivy emptied more vials. She didn’t hesitate this time. The blood hit her taste buds then traveled down her esophagus to her stomach. Ivy relished every last drop. She used her sleeve to wipe a small drop that had escaped her enthusiastic chug.
“Holy hell. How does that taste so good?” Ivy shook her head then sat on the kitchen floor. She struggled to come to terms with how great she felt. She’d just swallowed two glasses of human blood.
Ivy closed her eyes. Ashamed.
That feeling subsided upon opening her eyes. Around her were glowing imprints left by her father. His fingerprints. His every move and routines in the kitchen. His tea kettle marked up and the gas dial on the stove were highlighted in front of her in the color red just like the outline of the neighbor.
Ivy squinted then rubbed her eyes. Closed. Then reopened. The glowing red marks still dotted the kitchen. She stood up to examine the other parts of the house. She followed her father’s glowing feet marks from the kitchen to the wood flooring of the dining room. Near the bottom of the steps leading to the foyer where her father fell were other glowing marks. Her father lived alone. Who or what else could have left these marks? They were bright gold. Her father’s red marks mixed with the gold marks near the steps.
Ivy climbed the stairs to the foyer. The marks were more prevalent here than anywhere as if denoting a struggle had occurred. Her father had clearly fought someone here in the foyer and lost.
The marks began to fade, and her vision started to return to normal.
“No. Why…” Ivy quickly looked down the stairs to the kitchen.
The blood. The blood gave her the power to see the marks, fingerprints, footprints of her father and his possible and likely attacker. Naturally, Ivy wanted more. Much more.
Chapter Fourteen
The advanced-in-age cardinal walked out from somewhere beyond the golden cross. The area beyond the golden cross looked flooded with natural light. Bud couldn’t tell if there were windows or more electric lighting.
“Good morning, Cardinal Riggio. Meet our newest members of The Order, Maeve and Bud.” Sam smiled then bowed his head.
“Bless you, Samuele. Bless you, Maeve and Bud. Your grandfather rightfully predicted your visit, Bud.” Cardinal Riggio gave a warm smile to Bud.
Bud noted the man’s powerful presence, his deeply imbedded eyes, and pronounced eyebrows. He bore a striking resemblance to Boris Karloff.
“Greetings, Cardinal. I was wondering if you might be able to illuminate me on the subject of my grandfather.”
“Of course. Your family’s history with the Order is a deeply involved one that stretches back to the very founding of our Order, Bud. The surname Hutch has been recorded throughout our secret history dating back to the time of Constantine. Your bloodline has been incredibly loyal, useful, and innovative in the Order’s efforts.”
“How can that be? My father is clearly no member of the Order. That is certain. How would I not know of this rich history of my family? My parents have no idea.”
“Samuele, would you mind procuring some chairs from the armory? Bud, this is a long story. Know that I know your grandfather well, as he and I were partners.”
Kenneth Hutchins stood tall and gangly next to his muscular and stout partner, Robert. Their chests heaved from finally making it over the earthen mounds patched with barbed wire and sharp sticks. They looked down into a trench with a great tree in the center. Surrounding the tree were more of the German defenses. These defenses were properly sandbagged with three MG-40 machine gun nests.
“Robert, do you really think he is still alive down there?”
“By the grace of God, Kenny, one can only hope. Either way, we must get down there and seal that tree.” Robert grasped the cross that hung from his neck.
“Remember thou shalt not kill.” Kenneth Hutchins descended the steep decline toward the tree. The feeling of despair crept into his stomach.
An unsealed tree spewed negative energy, if not pure evil. This particular tree took root among a great and unholy battle between the Teutonic Knights and an alliance of Polish and Lithuanian armies. Much blood spilled on this ground. Lord only knows what form the evil spirits have taken in this forest.
The moisture of the earth below them increased, but mud had yet to form. Any rain would have made his descent much faster, uncontrolled, and sloppy.
The moonlight cast a dim light over their proceedings. Still, they soldiered on, moving down the hill into the trench. Kenneth and Robert wore black cloaks, but he thought for sure they would at least be warned by a Nazi to stop at this point. The soldier’s helmet could be seen just above the barrel of the MG-40 machine gun.
“Perhaps, the Jerry is resting his eyes,” Kenneth whispered to Robert.
“Not much action in this particular section of Poland, I presume. Let’s take a closer look.”
The pair of young monks made it to level ground and walked on the great tree roots of the old tree. The silence that filled the air created an unsettling atmosphere. No German chatter. No laughter. Nothing but the wind rustling through the tree branches. They walked with a slow, measured pace as to not disturb the possible slumber of the sentry in the machine gun nest.
Kenneth turned to Robert and held up his palm to him.
Robert nodded then stopped.
Kenneth tiptoed his way to the soldier who faced away from him hunched over the wooden butt of the MG-40. The dim moonlight barely showed the detail of the soldier’s state when Kenneth realized the Nazi’s shoulders didn’t move. His back didn’t rise and fall in a steady rhythm. The monk moved closer then saw the narrow, thin wound. The position of the blow and the subsequent river of blood that formed down the soldier’s back to the cold soil indicated a heart puncture. This soldier of the Reich lived no more.
Chapter Fifteen
Kenneth turned away from the dead soldier. He looked to Robert then shook his head.
“Dead?” Robert whispered.
“Yes. Behind you!” Kenneth pointed at a large man dressed in full medieval armor wearing a flat-topped and rectangular helmet that covered his entire face. The knight glowed blue and wielded a massive broadsword and began to bring it down on Robert’s skull, when Robert rolled away from him and toward Kenneth.
“Well, that explains the deathly feel of this place!” Kenneth yelled.
The pair of monks ran from the knight to the other side of the tree. Dead Nazi soldiers lay all around the area.
“What do we do now? Reason with it?” Robert asked. “I mean he did just kill a bunch of Nazis!”
“Good point. We do what we came here to do. Save my brother and seal this tree. Now at least we know what evil spewed from this tree.”
“Are we so sure the knight’s evil, Kenny?”
“It just tried to kill you. I don’t think this knight has any concept of taking sides at the moment.” Kenneth looked around frantically then stopped to think.
The seven-foot-tall knight walked as fast as his heavy armor would allow. The metal armor’s clatter grew louder and louder the closer he walked to their side of the tree. He approached slowly yet with purpose.
“Robert, do you know how to shoot a gun?” Kenneth gripped the crucifix around his neck.
“Of course I don’t, Kenny! I am a monk for Christ’s sake! Sorry, God.” Robert threw his hands up in the air.
“Grab an MG-40 and slow him! I will seal the tree, and hopefully this medieval murderer will be gone as well.”
The knight appeared on their side of the tree’s massive trunk.
“Hurry, Robert!” Kenneth stepped back and over a dead Nazi.
Robert grabbed for the MG-40 which faced away from the tree. He picked it up from its mounted position. He aimed at the massive blue knight.
“Lord forgive me.” Robert pulled the trigger. His stout and muscular frame absorbed the shock and vibration of the powerful gun’s loud and violent operation. Muzzle flashes illuminated the ground around the monks and the tree. The whizz and ping of bullets hitting the knight’s armor filled the air with the noise of war.
The tall knight put his forearm in front of his head to shield himself from the volley of lead. He fell to one knee then dropped his sword.
The loud firing stopped.
“I thought you said you didn’t know how to fire a gun?!” Kenneth yelled to Robert.
“What?! I can’t hear you?! We are out of bullets!” Robert dropped the large machine gun.
“Help me seal the tree!” Kenneth held his cross in front of his chest. “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the—” Kenneth stopped his prayer recital. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
The knight stood once more. His gauntlet-laden hands moved in half circles.
“What is it doing?” Robert asked, panting from his nerves.
The spectral knight held out his arms with his metal-laden palms up. A blue light burst from his hands. The light beamed to the nearest dead Nazi bodies. The knight from a few meters away lifted their bodies off the ground through some sort of awful black magic. The knight spun two bodies in the air and moved his hands forward. The bodies flew toward the two monks of the Order.
“Get down!” Kenneth yelled.
Robert jumped into one of the machine gun nests and out of the way. He picked up another gun. A smaller machine gun. An MP-40. He shot at the knight once more.
The dead bodies fell on top of Kenneth, who merely crumpled to the ground and covered up. Robert continued firing. The whizzing, bouncing, and careening of bullets damaged the knight’s armor and the tree he stood next to.
Kenneth pushed up and forced the dead off him. Another blue beam burst from the knight’s hands. He pulled up another dead body and used it as a shield from Robert’s attack. Blood and flesh filled the air.
Bile bubbled up into Kenneth’s throat. He spit it out.
“I can’t do everything, Kenny! Do something!” Robert pulled the trigger until the ammunition ran out once again. He threw the gun to the ground.
Kenneth kept his focus. “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host…”
The decimated makeshift shield and dead body flew through the air once again right at Kenneth.
“…by the power of God cast into hell Satan and the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls…”
Robert jumped in front of Kenneth and intercepted the dead body thus saving his friend and fellow monk.
“Amen!” Kenneth finished.
A crack of wood filled the air. A beam of yellow light burst from the tree. The large ghostly knight grabbed his massive broadsword and drove it into the ground as a means to hold on and resist the holy power that swirled around the medieval monster.
The wind howled and pulled at the black cloaks of Robert and Kenneth. They were being pulled towards the tree and the spirit realm.
“This is most unsettling!” Kenneth yelled.
“Kenny! Grab a gun and shoot that bastard off that sword before we get sucked in too!” Robert scrambled around for more guns. He found two Luger pistols. The light from the tree glowed brighter. The sound of cracking wood filled the air once more. The top of the tree swayed. The knight’s body had been lifted off the ground, yet he stubbornly gripped the hilt of his broadsword buried into the earth.
“Here!” Robert held out the pistol.
“Very well.” Kenneth shook his head and grabbed the pistol.
The two monks ran behind the sandbags of one of the machine gun nests. They held on to the sandbags with one hand and fired their Lugers with the other. Kenneth felt like Jimmy Cagney in a gangster movie. He admittedly enjoyed firing the gun.
The knight’s long legs moved into a vertical position. The monk’s fire combined with the might of the tree pulled the knight from his grip. The yellow light engulfed the blue monster. It swirled around him then violently pulled him into the tree. The light dissipated. The darkness returned.
The medieval menace fought no more.
“Well, that was more action than we usually get at the monastery. Phew.” Robert laughed then dropped the gun and wipe
d his brow with his black sleeve.
“We must search for him.” Kenneth didn’t waste time to enjoy their victory over the monster and examined the dead around him. “Emmett! Emmett!”
Robert did the same. He walked around the tree and observed the last machine gun nest with Kenneth.
“Oh dear. I am sorry, Kenny.”
Cardinal Riggio cast a serious yet concerned look to Bud. “In that last nest was the body of your great Uncle Emmett Hutchins, and fellow monk of the Order of St. Michael. After his brother’s death, your grandfather left the Order and swore to me that he would never return, yet his willingness to do what is right and protect those he loved prompted him to answer my calls. He came back when we called him to us a year ago. When evil supernatural activity around the world began to increase once more.”
Bud Hutchins could think of no sarcastic, snarky, or rude comment to respond with except, “This is most unsettling.”
Chapter Sixteen
Bud stood from the chair and paced the marble floor. “How do I fit into all this? Surely this cannot be just one giant fateful coincidence that Brother Mike steals my teleportation tech which acts as the inciting action that puts me on the path to becoming a monk of the Order, the very dangerous job that my grandpa tried to protect me from.”
“Vincentas was part of this growing threat. Your grandfather and I battled him during the second World War. We decimated his attempt at raising an army of vampires. Vengeance fueled that vampire’s actions and long life. We both knew that one day he would come for us,” Cardinal Riggio said.
“My grandfather was long gone before Brother Mike became a threat. How do you justify the timeline? Also, Vincentas was a powerful vampire, so why use a novice assassin to kill my grandfather?” Bud took a deep breath while he paced.
The Phantom of the Catacombs Page 3