by Sean Deville
“We could have handled that better,” Creed admitted.
“So now I am to be given lessons by a priest?” Lilith countered.
“No, I’m just saying. The woman was frightened. We forget most people don’t have an Inquisitor’s iron will.”
“This is not my concern. The woman is a threat,” Lilith warned. “If the demon claims her, I will have no choice but to act.” Would it be me though, thought Lilith? I’m not in any fit state to go hunting demons. Creed obviously shared her doubt. “Or at least Lucien will. You should inform him.”
“I will,” Creed said. “But I’m hoping it won’t come to that.” Perhaps this was why Creed had never made it as an Inquisitor, Lilith thought. The damned old fool cares too much about his flock.
4.
Silicon Valley, USA
There was something glaring Stone didn’t understand, and to make ultimate progress with this work, he needed an answer to the question burning a hole in his mind. To try and reach some clarity of purpose, he’d spent the last three hours devouring the translated versions of two specific books, but he couldn’t say he was feeling any more enlightened.
Thomas Malvenda's 1604 work, De Antichristo, and Augustin Lémann’s 1905 book, L'Antéchrist. Both were considered, at least by Stone, the definitive works on understanding the nature of the Antichrist from a human perspective. Somewhere in all these great works of literature was hopefully the answer he was looking for, because he would rather not ask the person in question. Stone reckoned he had already pushed his luck in that regard.
So, Mr Horn, why don’t you tell me a little bit about what makes you tick.
Horn’s expectations of him and what he could achieve were definitely unrealistic, but how do you point out failings in logic to the Antichrist? This was a man who could snap his fingers and have untold horrors descend on Stone’s flesh.
The issue creating the blockage in his thinking was the enormous elephant in the room. All the great religious works related to the End Times always ended in the eventual defeat of the Antichrist and either the destruction of Hell, or the total enslavement of Satan for the rest of eternity. Surely Horn was aware of this? Surely Horn knew that, if prophecy was to be believed, by breaking the Seals and unleashing the forces of Hell, Horn ultimately doomed himself.
So why was he doing it? He was rich, powerful, gifted with an intellect to embarrass many PhD scholars. And yet Horn had set himself on a path of worldwide destruction that would kill billions. Did Horn know something Stone didn’t? What did the Antichrist believe that made him so confident in his plans?
From the two books in front of him, Stone had summarised the consensus of what the Antichrist was. It was basically what Stone already knew, and he looked down at the list he had written. There were some irregularities there, but now he had met the Antichrist in the flesh, Stone was still impressed by what the books had been able to predict.
The Antichrist will be a trial for good men and a punishment for the impious and apostates. Who determined who was good, though? What metric would be used?
The Antichrist isn’t Satan incarnate, nor a demon in human form, but a mere man. Stone had seen this for himself, although Horn was someone who had accumulated vast wealth and influence. Was that it perhaps? Was boredom driving him? When you acquired such riches, where did that leave you? Throughout history, men had wanted to control it all, and it had rarely ended well for any of them. At the end, even if they had lived a long life, death always waited.
The Antichrist will seduce people and will bedazzle the population with Satanic rituals. That was why Stone was here. The book he would eventually finish would be part of a larger plan to seduce the world. Despite the brutality inflicted upon him, Stone could see the charm his captor could unleash into the world. It wouldn’t take much for people to worship and adore him if he could persuade them he was their salvation. As for the rituals, one wondered what Horn’s fortune could create in that regard.
The origins of the Antichrist will be humble and obscure. Did this match with Horn’s upbringing? Stone didn’t know, he had no real insight into Horn’s childhood, but surely Horn had come from a rich family. Stone knew enough to know Horn had inherited his father’s company, but wasn’t aware Horn Senior had started the company now spanning the globe from scratch, a tale of rags to riches.
The Antichrist will grow in power and will conquer the world and forge a universal empire. That word conquer perhaps wasn’t right. Stone scrubbed it out and wrote buy instead.
The Antichrist will wage war against God and the Church. Stone had no idea this war had already begun. The growing conflict in the Middle East and the nuking of Philadelphia were sending the planet hurtling to a devastating confrontation, only Stone wasn’t aware of either. The access he had to outside news was what Horn permitted.
The Antichrist will imitate God and will desire that he himself alone is worshipped. Hmm, how did this prediction fare against the ten laws Horn had insisted on? From what Stone could tell, Horn was willing to share the glory with the forces of Satan. Something connected in his thoughts, but it wasn’t there long enough to become an idea. He’d almost received an answer, only for it to dance away from him.
The domination and the persecution by the Antichrist will be transient only for Satan’s child to be destroyed. There it was, the glaring abnormality. Did Horn somehow think he could ignore this detail? Did he have a plan to counter it? Perhaps he was merely like all those other megalomaniacs from history, driven by ego, creed and a craving for dominance.
Stone pushed himself back from the table. His limbs were tight from sitting in one position for so long, and he knew he couldn’t ignore the pressure in his bladder any longer. Part of his devotion to his work was due to the fascination the project represented. But he couldn’t also deny there was a huge degree of self-preservation here. Every time he left the library section of his prison, he expected Kane to suddenly rush in and inflict some kind of brutal punishment.
For some reason he also felt he had a duty to create the best work he could. That might have sounded insane, and on a deeper level Stone knew it was a response to the trauma he had suffered. He was becoming a supplicant, a willing servant to those who held his life in the palm of their sweaty and claw-like hands. By the time he was done, there was a very real risk Stone would come to worship the very words he was writing.
When Stone returned from the bathroom, it wasn’t Kane he found waiting for him, but Horn. Horn sat in the chair Stone had been using, the list Stone had written held up to the light.
“How do you think Malvenda knew so much about me? He wrote his book over four hundred years ago.”
“There’s a lot of vagueness in there,” Stone said carefully. “That allows us to see prescience when none actually existed.” He moved into the room sheepishly so as to stand on the other side of the table from his jailer. There he stood, swaying slightly, the table an ineffective barrier.
“Sit down before you fall down, you idiot.” Stone didn’t need telling twice. “Perhaps it was God whispering in his ear.”
“Or maybe it was Satan, preparing the way.”
“I like the way you think,” Horn admitted. “Either way, I don’t think we need to worry about the last item on your list.” So, there it was. Horn was willing to ignore the elephant, despite its immense size and the thunderous roar it created.
“I think we do,” Stone blundered. Before Horn could reach across the table and choke him, he added, “Because there will be millions who will be holding onto that hope, and as such it needs to be crushed.”
“Crushed, you say. My, but aren’t you turning into a nasty little prophet.”
“I’m coming around to your way of thinking,” Stone admitted. “And I would never claim to be a prophet.”
“That’s a good way to keep Kane from having to trouble himself with your discomfort.” Stone looked around, expecting to find the demon towering over him. “Relax, Kane isn’t here. He’s in
Las Vegas. I told him to have some fun whilst he was there, but he rarely finds any delight in this world. The last time I saw him smile was when he was fondling the tooth he borrowed off you.”
“Borrowed?” Stone found the word horrific.
“Oh yes. He’s more than willing to return it, should you fall from my grace.”
Stone blanched. The thought of the demon pinning him down and burrowing the sharp root back into his gum was terrifying. “I am your servant,” Stone confessed, lowering his eyes to the table.
“I know. And as my servant, I want you to be fully aware of what I have planned for the world. This will all need to be documented, the tribulations inflicted upon nations a testament to the failure of God. But I also want you to die inside as you see how you help me wipe the slate clean.”
Stone slipped his tongue into the gap where the tooth had been, a nervous habit he was developing. The tongue lingered there, regretting the tooth's absence but strangely craving the space present. “How long have you been planning this?”
“Pretty much ever since the death of my father. That was when I was introduced to certain interested parties, individuals who had been waiting for me. What they told me was somewhat enlightening.”
“And how long have you had your eye on me?”
“Nearly two years, although you weren’t top of my original list. It was your last book that sealed your fate. The prose and the mind that created it turned out to be just the thing I was looking for. Most of the other candidates were too academic, too bland in their writing. We invited some of them to try and create my masterpiece, but they weren't up to the task. The last occupant of this room was a particular disappointment.”
“Hoisted by my own petard,” Stone mused aloud. To know there had been others kidnapped before him didn't make him feel any better.
“Really, you should be flattered.”
“Flattered? You kidnapped me.”
“But only because of your special talent. In fact, you should be thanking me.” Horn was serious. “You get to see the end of the world from relative safety, spared the harrowing fate of billions.”
“I hope you seriously don't expect me to thank you?” As broken as Stone was, even that would be too much.
“No, not yet. But you will. When the world around us is burning, you will.”
“Will there be anything left for you to control?” If the biblical book of Revelation was anything to go by, there wouldn't be much of a planet left.
“Enough for me to have my fun.” And there it was, Stone's answer. Horn had become bored with the world. He wanted to destroy it to obtain one last final thrill. Forget destiny and lineage, Horn was a child smashing his toys. And when you thought about it, it made sense. Horn was born of Satan, there was only one place he was ultimately heading. So why not go out with a bang.
“When you begin the world’s demise, I assume you will come forward as the saviour?”
“Naturally. I'm looking forward to the irony of it, people bowing down to the one responsible for their doom.”
Horn suddenly looked over Stone’s shoulder and beckoned. Stone turned his head wearily to see a third man in the room’s doorway.
The third person was thin, maybe six feet in height, although he countered this by the pronounced stoop in his spine. This wasn’t through age as far as Stone could tell. The pristine and ironed lab coat marked the man as some kind of scientist.
“Come in, Professor Peterson,” Horn ordered. The scientist had a nervousness about him that told Stone the Professor found social interaction difficult. There was no eye contact there, the man looking away, and definitely not looking at Horn. He was jittery, like an animal caught out in the open.
“You asked to see me, Mr Horn?”
“Indeed I did. Sit down, take a load off.”
“That’s all right,” Peterson responded. His mouth twitched and his hands were fumbling in the pockets they were thrust into. “No time to sit, no time.”
“Professor Peterson, meet Professor Stone.” Peterson’s face suddenly lit up, and he turned to Stone. “Alas, he’s not in your scientific discipline. Stone is merely a writer.” Peterson visibly deflated, the chance to meet a peer of similar intellect lost. Stone didn’t stand up to introduce himself.
“Very busy Mr Horn. Lots to do.”
“Indeed, and I want you to tell our new friend here all about it.”
“Too complicated,” Peterson insisted.
“Why don’t you try me?” Stone heard himself say. Why am I playing along with this madness?
“See, Peterson. A willing mind asking for your wisdom.” Horn was enjoying this. Although Peterson seemed to have more freedom to move around the complex, Stone wondered if he too was a prisoner down here.
“Well, we have been using genetic engineering via electroporation to modify plant gene sequences to effect a specific result through the use of rDNA technology. Basically, I created several plant species resistant to some of the more common plant pathogens affecting modern day crop production. Easy work, not hard, not hard.” Peterson stared off into space as he recounted his experiments.
“But what else did you do? What was your true work of genius?”
“I created a virus that would attack all other food plants that didn’t contain this genetic coding.” Peterson said this as if he was reading a bus timetable. No emotion, no passion.
“Stone, do you see the beauty of it?”
“I’m assuming only you can produce the immune seeds?” If you could control the world’s food production, there was pretty much anything one could achieve.
“You see Peterson, isn’t this one smart?”
“Smart, but not as smart as me.” Peterson was now looking up at the ceiling, entranced by the ornate carvings there.
“What’s wrong with him?” Stone asked. Peterson showed no awareness he was being talked about.
“His interpersonal skills have deteriorated during the five years he’s been down here. He was always a bit odd, and I think Kane might have gone a little overboard on him. At first, I was concerned it would have an impact on his abilities, but if anything, the new Peterson is obsessed with his work. We sometimes have to sedate him so he gets some sleep.”
“Busy, very busy,” Peterson added.
“Yes, you are, so maybe you should get back to work.” Peterson jumped slightly at the command before turning round and ushering himself quickly from the room. That is a damaged mind, thought Stone.
Five years? Is this what I will become?
“So, once again you will be the saviour. Release a plague onto the world that causes starvation, only for your company to step in and be the salvation of all?”
“Oh no, not all. Remember your laws.”
Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perfect balance with the universe.
“But billions will starve.”
“Yes they will. And I’m merely adding to what nature is already providing. There are biblical locust swarms in Africa, millions of pigs being slaughtered in China due to a new and virulent haemorrhagic fever. And as I learnt the other day, there is a toxic algae bloom spreading in the southern Atlantic.” Stone was mesmerised by the cataclysms being recounted. “But don’t worry, there will be plenty of other ways for people to die, you can be assured of that. And very soon.” Once again, Horn sported a manic grin. Whatever else he had planned, he was thoroughly enjoying the future he had in store for mankind.
“When will you be releasing the virus?”
“Already released. The packages containing the infected aphids have been distributed across four continents.” Horn had been planning this for years, the virus perfected weeks ago. There was no need to hang around anymore, not with so many portents insisting the time to act was now.
“Then there’s no stopping it.”
“No, the only hope mankind will have are the seeds I have stored. I’m looking forward to being the hero of mankind.”
Hope? There was no hope. “Wh
at about war? I’ve seen the face of the second horseman.”
“In your dreams?” Stone nodded. “That war has already started.”
“Shit.” Stone had to admit, being trapped down here had further advantages other than the books. He would be fed and safe from the worst of what would happen on the surface.
“About those dreams you've been having. You said mine was the face you saw for the first horseman?”
“Yes.” Stone was expected to write an account of every dream he had upon waking. Immersed and held captive within a chamber such as he was, ideas were sure to appear to his subconscious mind. And naturally, Horn made sure to read every entry.
“Well, I wonder whose face you will see on the third horseman?”
I think we both know the answer to that, thought Stone.
The mystery of what the first horseman represented had been revealed to Stone alone. To some, the imagery in Revelation had indicated many things, only some scholars believing it represented the Antichrist, the one who would bring chaos to the planet. Those who believed this had been proven correct.
The second horseman represented violence and war, the events in the Middle East and Philadelphia so far not having been shared with Stone. But the third horseman, the one Stone had yet to see, certainly represented famine, a famine made by man, and helped by nature.
And behind it all was a God who stood aside and let it all happen. It would be so easy to blame it all on Satan. But to Stone, the true evil rested in the hands of the supposedly loving God. A God who was willing to stand by and watch billions suffer.
5.
London, UK
Detective Inspector Cooke had never been tasked with interviewing someone as important as the Home Secretary. Despite his case load being full, he had been ordered here by his superiors, as part of a delicate game being played between those who wrote the laws and those who enforced them. Those at the top of the Metropolitan Police knew they had to tread lightly despite the overwhelming evidence of murder. It did not do to embarrass the great offices of state, even when the man holding the office was clearly guilty.