The Second Seal

by Sean Deville

Anastasia Turgenev had not let her good looks mould her future. At the age of eighteen with the blessing of her terminally ill father, she had joined the Russian army, where it quickly became apparent she was a crack shot with the Draganov SVD sniper rifle. A childhood spent hunting the forests of Siberia had honed her skills whilst hardening her mind and body to the harshness of the Russian winter.

  Whereas many her age let themselves be swallowed up by hedonistic excess, Anastasia craved the self-discipline instilled in her by the Army. She already possessed it to some degree, being her own harshest critic and demanding more of herself than anyone else ever could. The army helped her find herself, hone who she really was, stripping away what was left of the little girl to forge a woman blessed with an iron will.

  There were few who could match her skill with the rifle, and upon being deployed to the Chechen conflict, she quickly established a legendary reputation for her marksmanship. Whilst normally women weren’t allowed as part of the frontline troops, rules were there to be broken. Someone with her prowess could not be wasted. She had fourteen confirmed kills in the battle for Grozny alone, more than any of her male counterparts. It wasn’t hard to obtain the respect of her fellow soldiers with such a record.

  In battle, they all knew she would be out there and they felt better knowing Lady Death was looking out for them. Even the Chechens soon heard of her, Russian propaganda constantly warning those on the opposing side of the conflict that a bullet from Lady Death’s gun could find them at any time. By the time the Chechen conflict was over, a considerable bounty had been placed on her head.

  That bounty rose with the number of people she killed. So far, nobody had ever collected it.

  Those days were memories now. Having officially left the Russian army, she no longer hunted the human enemies of Russia. Her life was consumed by one overriding mission, a purpose against which nothing else compared. She had a new enemy now, one which threatened not only Russia, but the entire world. As a member of one of the FSB’s covert Wolf Squads, it was her job to hunt down demons whenever they appeared in the world and help contain the demonic threat.

  She had three things that made her ideal for the job. A stellar military record, unwavering determination and a genetic profile that made her immune to demonic possession. This had been discovered from the blood tests taken during her army basic training. It was thus inevitable the recruiters would find her and give Anastasia the opportunity of a lifetime.

  What true soldier could turn down such an opportunity?

  Right now she sat in the dilapidated hangar of what a casual observer would consider to be an abandoned military airfield. A more discerning eye would have seen this wasn’t the case. The perimeter fence with its razor wire was too new and too well maintained. Although well hidden, the surveillance cameras were too numerous and too pervasive. And just because the airfield was unmanned, didn’t mean it wasn’t being watched. Owned exclusively by the FSB, the airfield was used to deploy the Wolf Squads to wherever the demons appeared. Be it by helicopter or airplane, the Wolf Squads could be sent anywhere in mainland Russia within hours of a demonic incursion being detected.

  There was only one other person present with her, and he was asleep with his back against the wall opposite. Her companion wasn’t renowned for his desire for conversation. That was fine with Anastasia, as she didn’t tolerate mindless small talk. If you had something that needed saying, then by all means speak your mind. Other than that, words were a pointless distraction.

  ***

  Captain Kosta Pavlichenko was a man of little humour and even less mercy. Like Anastasia, he was another veteran of the Russian army. Whilst the younger Anastasia had fought in the victorious second Chechen conflict, Kosta had fought in the first, a conflict Russia was deemed to have technically lost. The one hundred thousand Chechen civilians who were killed might not have agreed with that.

  During his time in Chechnya, the Chechen rebels came to fear him, nicknaming Kosta “The Savage” to reflect the brutality for which he was renowned. His fellow soldiers also called him that, although only behind his back. With a neck thicker than most men’s thighs, he was like a walking slab of iron. A senior lieutenant by the end of the war, the men he commanded had been one of the most effective units in the field. Much of this was down to the loyalty Kosta instilled and the fact he always led his men from the front. He would never ask them to perform an act he was not himself prepared to undertake, which included countless atrocities that were tolerated by his superiors.

  Kosta was a man prepared to do anything to protect Mother Russia.

  In his youth, before he had come to realise what defined him, he had been quick to anger, often eager to prove his worth with his fists and his ability to take punishment as well as inflict it. Kosta had grown out of this, the horrors of war having a calming effect on him. Like Anastasia, he had also been revealed through blood tests to be useful to the teams of demon slayers the Russian state had developed. For a man like Kosta who constantly felt the need to test himself and prove his place in the world, the opportunity was one he jumped at.

  He was also brutally loyal to those who earned such an honour. Everyone in his present team had that respect because he knew it would be reciprocated. He could trust every one of them with his safety, and Kosta knew that, should the chance arise, he would gladly give his life to save those he fought with. What greater purpose did a man have?

  His speciality was explosives and demolition, as well as being a juggernaut to bludgeon anyone who stood in the team’s way. He was also Dmitri Petrov’s number two.

  ***

  Fedor Romanov was a wiry man who could drink anyone under the table, an impressive feat for a Russian. He also liked to run, which is how he arrived at the airfield. To feel the ground pounding beneath his feet, to feel the harshness in his lungs as he sucked the air in and the burn of muscle as he pushed himself, made him feel alive.

  At the front gate he placed his left hand on the hidden digital reader, the gate opening when it’s technology was satisfied his presence here was authorised. If he hadn’t been, no alarm would have sounded. Instead, an alert would have been sent to the offsite monitoring station, the cameras zooming in on the unwanted. Should that person then try to breach the perimeter, a team would be dispatched to apprehend. Considering there was nothing of note within the boundary wires except dilapidation, breaking into this facility would be a foolish decision.

  Fedor walked the rest of the way, the hangar roughly two hundred metres from the entrance gate. There were no shower facilities at the airfield, so he would have to let the cool breeze evaporate the sweat from his body. No doubt his personal odour would become offensive, but there was nobody on his team who would care. They all had personal traits that those who believed in the civilised world might find quirky, even unsettling. When you got to look behind the fragile veneer covering the world, you soon realised how pointless such irritations were.

  Fedor was another member of the Wolf Squad, an absolute wizard when it came to the realm of electronics and cyberspace. He had been a young operative for the KGB before it was disbanded, being swallowed up by the FSB. Now in middle age, he was able to maintain his fitness whilst still having a fondness for vodka and women half his age.

  He had learnt about demons by mistake. When the KGB had self-imploded, he had found himself without a job but with skills people of means were willing to pay for. And for what Fedor could provide, they had paid well, information to some more valuable than gold. It was on one such job that he was tasked to infiltrate the heart of Russia’s most secretive data. Although hesitant to go against his own country, he had also felt betrayed by the politicians and the bureaucrats who had threatened to leave him destitute.

  What he hadn’t realised was that his employer wasn’t some rich oligarch or foreign power, but in fact the newly elected head of the FSB who was testing the integrity of the network. It was on this deep dive into the supposedly secure restricted servers that Fedor h
ad uncovered one of the biggest secrets the Russians had. The country had been fighting demons ever since the days of the Tsar.

  Stalin in particular had become obsessed with the fight.

  The knowledge nearly broke Fedor. Not a particularly religious man, he still had an idea and a belief system about how the world should be ordered. Deep in the secret database, his mouse had scrolled through the numerous files that recounted the history of Russia’s fight against the demonic aggressors. Whilst engrossed in the files, he came to the realisation that his whole life had been veering toward this defining moment.

  The morning after his incursion he had awoken to find two men in his bedroom. One of the men stated how impressive Fedor’s hacker skills were, that he had managed to venture into the core of what was supposed to be secure. The man had been Alek Popoff, who at the time had been the FSB deputy director.

  “Come and work for me,” Alek had said. Fedor remembered the gun the other intruder had held on him. “You have seen the truth. Now help me in my fight against the demon hordes.”

  “It doesn’t look like I have much choice in the matter,” Fedor had said.

  “No, you don’t.” It hadn’t been a difficult decision to make.

  As he approached the hangar, he heard the sound of the helicopter as it started its descent. As noisy as the helicopter was, it didn’t drown out the roar of the car approaching from behind.

  ***

  Having also navigated the gate, Vadik Grachev overtook the walking man and gave a single beep on his horn. The car he drove was old and functional, easy to repair and maintain. Whilst he had the funds for something better, Vadik cared not for material possessions, preferring instead reliability. All he had was his duty and his honour.

  Vadik couldn't speak, due to a run-in between his tongue and the knife of a Syrian torturer ten years before. The tongue wasn't the only thing removed, but it had been the torturer and the torturer's crew who had ultimately fared worst in that encounter. The injuries nearly broke him, sending him into a self-destructive and violent rage that saw Vadik use his fists on anyone who slighted him. Infused with vodka, the carnage he began to unleash on the streets of St Petersburg was the only way he could vent the anger that was threatening to consume him.

  He made the mistake of hitting the wrong person too hard. His arrest and conviction for murder saw him sentenced to twenty years in Kresty prison, an institution renowned for being particularly harsh. He would have rotted in there if not for the intervention of a man with whom he had once served. Such favouritism was only allowed because of the genetic trait Vadik carried, a fact revealed by the blood test all new prisoners had to undergo. After that it was no great hardship for Vadik to disappear from the system. The guards at the prison certainly had no objections, with Vadik an unbreakable force most of them secretly feared. It wasn’t the first time the state had made someone a non-person, only Vadik was being put to use rather than being buried in a hole six feet deep.

  Dmitri Petrov had saved Vadik with the opportunity to join a team. Vadik had jumped at the chance, despite the high mortality rates often experienced by the Wolf Squads. It was the kind of position a man like Vadik needed. A chance to redeem himself and find purpose in a society that had all but abandoned him. His eagerness was enhanced by the revelation of the service he would be providing.

  Vadik didn’t need to be told demons were real. The Syrian, the one who had neutered him, had possessed the black eyes Vadik was told marked the presence of possession. To fight such an enemy would be its own reward, although the financial compensation for the job he now did was considerable.

  Not only would Vadik have a place in the world again, but he would have an endless army of opponents upon which to vent his fury.

  ***

  Dmitri Petrov’s helicopter landed, the pilot running the engine down. The pilot knew the rumours of the men and women who worked for the secretive Wolf Squads, but nobody knew the clandestine world they worked in. Some rumours told of how they hunted out domestic terrorists, whilst others put forward the idea the squads were special hit teams destined to eliminate the political opponents of the Russian leadership. The truth was always kept from them, the stories they told encouraged and embellished. It was always best for people to think they had discovered the truth themselves. That way they didn’t go hunting for it.

  What the whisperers could always agree on was how terrifying these men and women were.

  Dmitri opened the side door to the Mi-17 transport helicopter and stepped out onto the runway. His team were waiting for him, their eager faces anxious to know what their next mission was. The activation order had gone out an hour before, but Dmitri was the only one aware of what the mission might be.

  “Major,” Anastasia said respectfully. She was the newest member of the team, but had nothing to prove to these men. There was no ego here. They didn’t care she was a woman or that she was the youngest. All they were concerned about was her skill. She was as capable as any of them.

  “How many demons do we get to kill today?” Kosta asked. The wound from the last group of Hell spawn they had fought had fully healed.

  For several years now, the Russians had been witness to what Lilith had recently reported on. There were parts of Russia where the demons found it easier to break through, the earth’s energy field corrupted by previous atrocities and by the earlier experiments done by naïve and foolish scientists that had permanently weakened the shield between the mortal world and Hell. Russia felt it was winning the war against their demon threat, but countless lives had been lost to maintain the peace.

  The most amazing thing about it all was the way Russia had been able to keep the demonic incursions a secret from the outside world. As far as was known, only select people in the Vatican were aware of Russia’s war on Satan’s puppets. Russia still had one of the world’s most effective intelligence gathering operations. If the secret had leaked out, it would be hard to keep that knowledge from the Russians.

  “This might not be a hunt for demons,” Dmitri said. Kosta looked genuinely disappointed. “The final decision has yet to be made, but we might be required to perform a rescue mission.”

  “A waste of our skills, surely?” Fedor noted.

  “You might not say that when you know who we might be rescuing.”

  “Will I get to kill something at least?” It had been weeks since Kosta had taken any life and he was getting itchy.

  “There’s always a life somewhere that needs ending,” Dmitri said with a sly grin.

  23.

  Silicon Valley, USA

  Religion is the greatest lie ever told.

  Some of you already know that, but there are others amongst you who will need persuading. Bear with me on this for I am about to reveal to you the truth that has so far been denied you.

  Just think about it. Think about how you have all been deceived.

  How many people have died fighting for a god they have never seen or heard? A god that doesn’t seem to care for them, that allows wickedness and torment to exist upon the planet. Did the gods that men worship stop world wars, famines and the rape of children?

  Some claim that their God moves in mysterious ways, that Earth was made to test the souls who would one day be offered up into Heaven. Does that make any sense to you though?

  Throughout the centuries, mankind has slaughtered each other for their false beliefs, brainwashed through fear and doubt to go against our true nature. Those peddling the false beliefs have harmed millions. Religious scandals, child-molesting priests and Imams who urge the gullible to martyr themselves for “the cause”. Time and again religion has harmed humanity, has scarred it and been used to oppress.

  Women are violated in its name. Whole countries suffer under the thumb of theocratic oppression. And you trust these people to tell you the truth?

  Someone has to raise their voice and put an end to all this. This book will be that voice.

  It’s time to bring an end to this charade.
It’s time to bring this whole holy edifice crashing down on their unworthy heads. You, dear beleaguered citizen of this corrupt planet, will see the truth that I have to reveal. And you will get to choose. You can either reject what is written and suffer as those who cling to their old beliefs suffer. Or you can embrace the new light that shines and burns away all the falsehoods.

  I am not here to tell you what I believe. I am here to tell you what I KNOW for I have seen it with eyes that have grown weary.

  Stay with me so I can pull you away from the precipice that is threatening to consume you all. Your life, and the lives of your children, demand you see past the lies.

  Stone paused his fingers over the keyboard. The words had flowed from him, easier than at any time he could remember. Whilst this introduction was only the first draft, he knew it set the tone that would develop through the entire book. People knew they had been deceived, even if they didn’t actively admit it. There were billions who had been sucked into a caustic web of lies, told to accept the dogma of one of thousands of gods.

  As much as he hated to say it, the words he was writing had a certain degree of truth behind them. Satan was supposed to be the master of lies, but was that really the case? Stone was starting to wonder.

  The difference between the atheist and the believer was the digit one. One, the difference in the number of gods they chose to reject. And whilst God was real, his greatness could never be understood by mere human minds. It would be like a dog trying to comprehend the inner workings of a nuclear reactor. The rules, the scriptures, they were all humanity’s way of trying to understand what could not be understood. Nothing written by human hand could ever be the true word of God. Christian, Hindu, Muslim and Jew—they were all following a belief system designed to honour the same entity whilst fighting over the interpretation of what couldn’t be interpreted.

  His book would have to admit and expose that.

  Satan though was easy to believe in. The proof of Satan’s existence was there in the world, soon to be witnessed by anyone with eyes willing to see. Stone had been shown it, had found that disturbing belief forced into his psyche. For decades he had subtly mocked the Christian religion through his books, never realising that the Pit existed and that Satan and the rest of the Fallen angels were plotting to bring forth the apocalypse.