The Third Seal

by Sean Deville

  “I suspect he is the son of the owner,” Lucien ventured. “He seems too familiar with the other staff.”

  “So, a son spending his father’s profits on an unforgiveable weakness. Is such a man worthy of our protection?”

  “No Father,” Lilith insisted, “but we will protect him none the less.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is not for us to judge,” Lucien offered. This wasn’t a competition between the two, they answered the questions together, just as today they would be working as a team.

  “What else do you see?”

  “That boy worming his way through the crowd,” Lilith said with a tilt of her head, “he’s already lifted three wallets.”

  “A thief out in pure daylight. Do you think you have that skill Lilith?” Picking pockets was only illegal if it wasn’t in service of the Lord.

  “I know I do, although the boy is more accomplished.” Of course he is, thought Lilith. That’s all he ever does.

  “That man there is a victim,” Lucien noted. The man in question was walking past their table, his head bowed and shoulders slouched. Any predator who saw this person would know him for the easy meat he was.

  “Why do you think such people exist in the world?” Father was always asking questions, constantly searching the knowledge and the understanding of those he instructed.

  “Because he has chosen to be so. It might not be a conscious choice, but he has taken the path that has left him weak and vulnerable. There will have been some event in his life that provides him the excuse for his pathetic nature. At the end it is still a choice.”

  “Is such a man dangerous?” Lilith waited for Lucien to answer, watching the feeble man from the periphery of her eye.

  “If given the right motivation.” Father seemed pleased with Lucien’s answer.

  “In a moment I will leave you two here,” Father said extracting a map from his pocket. He spread it out on the table, Lilith moving her glass to accommodate. “In two hours, I will meet you here.” Father pointed to a specific street. At full run, that was roughly thirty minutes from where they sat. Limited time then to do what was required. “You will make your own way there, and in your possession, you will have five items.”

  “And if we don’t get the items?” Lilith enquired.

  “Then once again you will know suffering,” came the response. “I will require you to obtain for me a man’s pocket watch, a policeman’s handcuffs, four hundred euros in cash, a woman’s brooch and a sample of an illicit street drug of your choice. I am not prescriptive about the latter.”

  “What if we get arrested?” If Lilith hadn’t asked the question, Lucien would have.

  “The local police chief has already been bribed. I would not recommend that though, because the police are known to beat pickpockets.” Father finished his tea and stood. “Wait five minutes before beginning your task.” Gathering up the map, he stepped away from the table.

  “How many students pass this test?” Lucien asked.

  “Some, but not all. I have every hope you will succeed. And if you don’t you will have learnt a valuable lesson.”

  As Father walked away from them, Lilith and Lucien scanned the crowd. Some of those items would be easy. The handcuffs not so much. One mistake and they would be swept up by the eager arms of law enforcement. The lesson was clear. In any city, left with no resources, it was an Inquisitor’s job to adapt and find what they needed to survive.

  “We should do the handcuffs first,” Lilith insisted.

  “Agreed.” If they were going to be caught by the police, better to not have a pocket full of stolen goods.

  They were about to stand, when the blackness became visible. It was on the other side of the square, surrounding the man who was walking calmly through the assortment of tourists and city residents.

  “It’s tempting, isn’t it?” Lucien said.

  “I know, but we can’t deviate from the task.”

  “They should let us out to do more than steal trinkets.”

  “Lucien, you know we aren’t ready.”

  “I feel ready,” came his response.

  “It still amazes me how nobody else sees what we see.”

  “Not everybody carries our curse.” They both knew that there were people in the real world who could see the evidence of demonic possession. Some never encountered demons to have that skill tested. Others had managed to bury it away so that it never manifested. There were also a significant number either locked away or medicated for their “illness”.

  The world needed the Inquisitors to protect them from the invisible invaders, but not today. Today they had to go shopping.

  That was what this test was called. The shopping trip.

  25.

  Las Vegas, USA

  Getting a ticket to the afternoon event hadn’t been difficult. Aadam might not walk about with a wallet full of fake identities, but he had access to a secure and anonymous credit card that allowed for him to purchase anything he needed. Most of his daily essentials were provided by the people who serviced the properties he utilised, the rest bought for cash of which he had an almost inexhaustible supply. The one thing an Inquisitor never had to concern themselves with was money, the Catholic Church funding everything through secret accounts.

  Purchasing things online was a rare event for him, but he hadn’t wanted to turn up and hope to buy entry at the door. That wasn’t how events like this worked. Although he’d never been to such an extravaganza before, he’d received copious education on the various religious practices in America. It was a diverse country when it came to beliefs, a collection of the traditional and the new, most believing in the same God but by different names.

  There were some people who worshipped more earthly deities, usually the ones with the faces of Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln on the reverse. That was what Aadam would be dealing with here, an abomination wrapped up in spirituality. If he was honest, he’d rather be knee-deep in demon entrails than sit and listen to such diatribe.

  We all suffer one way or another.

  With thousands of people attending, the evangelical event was going to make someone a considerable amount of cash, even after the advertising and conference venue were paid for. Aadam had opted for one of the cheap tickets, meaning he was relegated to the back of the event arena. Sitting there now, the people on the stage seemed like small toys, even with the numerous display screens suspended from the vast ceiling. Such an un-prominent position would never do for the wealthier in the crowd. Those sad and lost individuals would buy the more expensive tickets, putting them closer to the stage, feeding their egos and their dubious beliefs.

  When he’d gone online, he hadn’t been surprised to find there weren’t any higher tier tickets left. This multi day extravaganza was being run and promoted by some of America’s largest evangelical megachurches, which combined, had over a hundred and fifty thousand members. It was an expansion event, spreading the word to the greater world to form a more national presence. Although Jonah didn’t run a church of any significant numbers himself, he was one of the guest preachers, an exciting draw for many of the faithful.

  Aadam wasn’t aware that there was a considerable social media presence advertising and covering it, mainly paid for by the Antichrist.

  Jonah’s smiling face was on all the posters that had been plastered over the city. The word of God is coming to Las Vegas, come and hear his emissaries speak.

  No doubt Jonah was a powerful speaker. Aadam was interested to see what angle he would take towards the crowd, what persona he would adopt. Would Jonah be the prophet, the man of the people, or the example of wealth that could be acquired, if only you gave your heart to Jesus?

  If Aadam had his way, he’d take all these so-called preachers and string them up by their genitals. The greed of many of them was outdone by the manipulation of those they tricked into attending. God didn’t require people to pay to worship him, which was how so many religions had become corr
upted over the centuries.

  Aadam could feel the excitement of the sweating and agitated crowd. He was near one of two entrances, an ideal spot to see the people coming and going. Seated so far from the stage didn’t save him from the volume being pumped out by the production crew, but being close to the exit meant he could be blessed with an easy escape.

  “I’ve lived my life for nine years in Christ,” the present speaker said. He was an overweight, pudgy gentleman with a casual look, spoilt only by the thousands of dollars in jewellery he wore. Look at me, his image proclaimed, look at the wealth you can acquire if you accept the abundance that comes from taking Jesus into your heart.

  “I’ve committed my life to the Lord.” Have you now? thought Aadam. Have you really? And what form has that commitment taken, other than taking the money out of the purses and the wallets of your congregation? “I’ve accepted his word, his truth.” The speaker paused, allowing the crowd’s adulation to wash over him.

  “Tell it brother,” someone close to the front of the stage shouted.

  “Oh, I will,” the speaker responded. “There is wisdom in the teachings of Jesus Christ, as there is in the world around us. We have to be careful though, because the wisdom of the world is both sensual and demonic. Yesterday showed us the darkness that lives in men’s hearts, and we must rise above such acts of terrorism, in Jesus’s name.”

  Ah, if only you knew what mankind was truly capable of.

  To Aadam’s right, a woman stood up and threw her hands in the air. This was not a quiet crowd, they were constantly shouting out various banal phrases, enraptured by the show that promised to go on for hours yet. Aadam hid his contempt, his eyes working across the people, neck turning regularly to casually witness who was coming and going.

  He’d already spotted two demons amongst the crowd. Whether they were here for mischief, Aadam couldn’t say. Their faces were recorded by the glasses he wore, the identities they had stolen already being uncovered. He might not rip them from the bodies they defiled this night, but he would have them eventually. It was his purpose, his holy mission, to keep this city clean of the demonic scum.

  “We are full of self-seeking and envy and everything evil is in us. So, we have a choice…”

  I can’t believe I’m listening to this.

  “We can let our feelings guide us, knowing that they will be warped and manipulated by the whispers of Lucifer. Or we can take Jesus into our hearts and accept his grace and his protection.” That set the crowd going again. The woman next to Aadam was almost gyrating in her seat.

  What is wrong with you all? This is not how you find God.

  It was at moments like this that the doubts came. How could so few Inquisitors deal with the demons and the gullibility of so many? Fortunately, his training allowed him to quash those thoughts. Ultimately, when the apocalypse did come, there were so few who would actually be saved. What he was witnessing here, in this place, was inevitable. The gullible and the wicked would never see the Kingdom of Heaven. Conmen, like the one on stage, were here to reveal the weakness in men’s hearts.

  The majority aren’t worth saving, but we save them anyway for it is not for us to judge. Those were the words of Father, one of the first lessons taught and repeated numerous times.

  “This is why we have our next guest preacher. Some of you know him, a man of devotion and true faith.” The last two words were almost shouted. “He has lived a life of service to our Lord Jesus Christ. Can I get an amen?”

  The crowd, excluding Aadam and probably the two demons, roared back. Aadam couldn’t help but wonder why the demons were here. Were they on the hunt for prey, or was there something more sinister afoot here?

  “Put your hands together and say his name. Come forth Jonah Forge.” At the back of the stage, a huge cloud of smoke erupted. It drifted across to the audience, engulfing the preacher who was already abandoning his position. The huge arena was filled with the sound of chanting, an invisible choir letting loose a Gregorian chant to enchant the faithful. People began to stand in righteous applause. As much as he detested the spectacle, Aadam had to admit it was well choreographed. Those present were getting their money’s worth.

  The smoke slowly dissipated, displaying the tall handsome man with a smile that would make women melt. There was a hush through the crowd, many of those present here to listen to Jonah speak above all others. With the research Aadam had managed to acquire, it seemed that Jonah’s popularity was mainly driven by his internet presence. He’d come out of nowhere, acquiring millions of viewers and followers on social media platforms. Someone had spent a lot of money to create this man’s image.

  Aadam intended to find out where that money came from. If Jonah associated with demons, the Inquisition would need to know why.

  A tall stool had been placed centre stage. As the air fully cleared, Jonah could be seen seated upon it, his head slightly bowed. There was no finery in his attire for Jonah sported the clothes worn by the average working man. If Jesus were to return tomorrow, this is exactly how he might dress.

  The crowd began to quiet, thousands retaking their seats as a silence fell. Some of them would have heard Jonah speak before, but for the majority his approach was new to them, a complete contrast to the shouty, overexcited preachers and showmen that had been on stage so far. Jonah knew exactly how to play this crowd.

  “There is a sickness in the world,” Jonah said. His words were clear, any hint of an accent hard to pin down. By not knowing where he came from, it eliminated many of the instant prejudices and preconceptions that afflicted many speakers. “That sickness is here in this room. It is next to you, behind you, and in the very air you breathe.” As Aadam expected, members of the crowd began to look around.

  Aadam stood, the person next to him ripped from their mesmerism as he squeezed past her. His neighbour flashed him a critical look as she drew her legs in.

  You’re leaving, now? But this is the best bit.

  “You can feel it in the air, on the roof of your palate,” Jonah continued. Someone near the front shouted something, but Aadam’s well trained ear didn’t catch it. By the time he was free of the seating area, Jonah had stood from the chair. “The sickness is inside all of us, all of you.”

  “Nooo,” another voice shouted.

  “Yes sinner. It corrupts and taints everything you touch. You think you are safe from this sickness, think that by living a good life you can keep yourself and your family safe. You think your nice house and your stock portfolio can show you peace in a world riddled with madness.”

  Aadam had already determined the measure of the man. The persona he had adopted was one of saviour. He was here to show the collected masses the mistakes they had made, the sin in their hearts and the evil in their thoughts. He would give them a way to purge themselves of all of that. That would likely involve unburdening themselves of the money in their purses and wallets and hopefully bank accounts. This event took all major credit cards.

  He would be their salvation…for a price.

  “There is a cure for this sickness. Would you like to know what that cure is?” The room was alive once again, a resounding yes coming from the collected mouths in the crowd.

  “It is the love and the glory of Jesus Christ who died for your sins so you would be able to repent your weakness.”

  Aadam couldn’t help but shake his head as he left the auditorium, Jonah’s words disappearing into the background hum of the hotel. There was only so much bullshit a person could take.

  ***

  The arena was part of the hotel complex Jonah was staying in, so it was a mere five-minute walk to the penthouse elevators. Nobody paid any attention to Aadam as he sauntered through the hotel. They must have presumed he was a guest, one of thousands of no notable worth. He walked like he was supposed to be there, a sure-fire way of avoiding unwanted attention.

  Although the hotel had surveillance cameras, Aadam himself had hacked into the hotel’s command server earlier in the day. J
ust as government systems across the globe were incapable of recording the image of an Inquisitor, so the same virus now infested the computer servers of this overpriced establishment. No image of him would be captured. To the world he would be a ghost.

  At least, that was the plan.

  The elevator arrived within seconds of him calling it. Despite the penthouse level requiring an access card for normal hotel patrons, that was no deterrent to Aadam. On his first day in Las Vegas, he had found a set of generic fire service keys amongst the assorted weapons and paraphernalia in the home he was allocated. The key presently in his posession would allow him to control most of the elevators across the city, and as he stepped into the lift, that key was already in his hand. With the security bypassed, he rode the car up to the top floor safe in the knowledge that nobody else would be joining him in the restrictive metal box. With his head bowed and the baseball cap emblazoned with the religious events logo, anyone watching likely wouldn’t see his face.

  Not that there would be anyone watching. An establishment as large as this had hundreds of cameras. The only place committed watchers were to be found would be with those electronic eyes covering the casino floor and reception desks, places where trouble was most likely to manifest. The rest of the cameras would be monitored haphazardly by distracted and bored security guards who were being paid less than they were worth.

  If Aadam was unlucky and security was dispatched, he would deal with that threat as it arose. With his lanyard pass to the evangelical spectacle and general attire, he could claim an obsession for the great Jonah.

  Or he could just kill anyone who opposed him. Such brutality had worked for him before. He was here in this world to kill demons, but if a few unfortunate souls got in his way during this great and noble task, then he was sure God would accept them with willing arms.

  There were three ceramic knives hidden within his street attire. Under his left armpit, an untraceable and disposable Glock 43 with three extra magazines in the shoulder holster would give him the stopping power he needed should shit hit the fan. In one of those magazines, the bullets were armour-piercing, able to penetrate standard issue body armour should any guard be lucky enough to be issued it. The rest were standard ammunition, able to be purchased across the city. The Glock also came with a sound suppressor which was essential if it was to be used within the borders of any metropolis.