by Mark Carver
He shivered. Did the temperature just drop?
Someone was breathing. He couldn’t hear it – he could feel it, inside of him.
He swallowed, then rose to his feet.
“Welcome, Mistress.”
The woman in black appeared to his left.
“I should chastise you for the foolishness of welcoming me into my own house,” she said with a serpent’s voice, “but I have long since become accustomed to human stupidity.”
Master Ko bristled but said nothing.
The woman in black stepped forward, studying the profile of his face.
“Do you know why I am here?”
“I can think of several reasons.”
“Such as...?”
Master Ko turned and stared into her terrifyingly beautiful eyes.
“I suspect that you are here to set your grand plan in motion.”
“Our grand plan,” she corrected him, gliding behind his back and reappearing to his right. “We are all in this together, remember? We need each other, silly as it may seem.”
Master Ko swallowed again. He kept his eyes glued to hers.
She moved back silently, trailing her fingers across the altar.
“And you are right. It is time for everything we have worked for to come to fruition.”
Master Ko inhaled, then exhaled slowly.
“What are your instructions?”
“Tomorrow we shall crown our new pope.”
“Tomorrow?”
Master Ko couldn’t believe it. There was so much to do, so much to prepare for...
So much to protect.
The woman in black glowered at him with smoldering eyes.
“Is there a problem?”
“No, no,” Master Ko stammered, nervously clenching and unclenching his fists. “It’s just…a bit sudden.”
“We’ve been preparing for this ever since our Master removed the Voice from the throne. In fact, long before. This is not the time to let your puny, putrid emotions interfere with your judgment.”
Master Ko nodded. “I know. I apologize, Mistress.”
The woman in black smiled. “Good. Now pay attention. There are many things that must be in place if this is going to work.”
Master Ko glanced up at the pentagram for a moment, then turned to her.
“I’m listening.”
****
Julian jerked his head up. He thought he had heard something.
He remained frozen for several seconds, every ounce of his concentration devoted to the stillness that surrounded him.
There was nothing.
Knowing it would be futile to waste anymore time trying to pierce the darkness, he rose to his feet and began pacing across the small room.
Father Shen had promised that he would return after a couple of hours. That had been this morning. Julian was starting to get worried. After all, it was hardly a welcoming environment out there, especially for a man of the cloth. From what Father Shen had relayed to him, a sizable gathering of Satanists had assembled in St. Nero’s Square, protesting their Order’s hesitation to crown a new leader. Julian himself was a bit puzzled. This was their most vulnerable time, but there had been no communication between the Vatican and the outside world since the assassination.
Lord, is this Your doing?
Perhaps God was bogging their leaders down with confusion and bickering, paving the way for a righteous insurrection.
An insurrection that he would lead.
Julian’s stomach lurched, and he had to sit down. His hands groped for a chair, and he collapsed on the seat, wide-eyed at the panic that gripped his heart.
His breath spurted out of his lips like bursts of gunfire, and his heartbeat thundered like war drums. Beads of sweat pushed through his skin, coalescing and trickling down his temples.
Are you out of your mind?
You, Julian Rossa Monte. A washed-up assassin hiding out in a crumbling chapel. Are you seriously going to lead the army of God against the Church of Satan and sit upon St. Peter’s throne?
Before he could answer, the voice screamed out again.
What arrogance! What foolishness! What in God’s name gives you the right to even consider yourself worthy for such a task? What faith do you have? What foundation do you rest upon? You’re a killer and nothing more! You’re an imbecile!
Julian’s breathing slowed, but he felt a new terror crawling through his skin.
The voice was right. Who was he, really? How did he even get these ridiculous ideas in his head? Just because a frail priest told him that he had had a vision? Was he so deluded to throw himself blindly off this precipice without even stopping a moment to think?
His blood ran cold.
This wasn’t the voice of reason.
It was the voice of the devil, trying to sway him from the path.
Julian’s eyes darted to and fro, searching the empty room. He clenched his teeth and rose to his feet, standing tall and defiant.
“Go on!” he challenged the darkness. “Speak your lies to me! See what that gets you! I am under the protection of the Almighty God, and I will listen to His voice alone! I silence you in the name of Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost!”
There was stillness in his soul. He waited, like a cornered animal listening for any sign that the predator still lurked in the shadows. But he heard nothing.
He breathed a weary sigh of relief.
Thank You, Lord.
For some strange reason, he felt as if his prayer had gone unheard.
He frowned and sat down in the chair. He couldn’t deny it: there was an emptiness in his spirit, jagged and bleeding as if something had been ripped out. But how could that be, if he was walking closer to God?
The door handle clicked, then turned, and Master Ko stepped into the dark room. Julian sprang to his feet.
“Father,” he began, but Master Ko held up his hand.
“I know you are restless, my son. But the time of waiting is over. Tonight, we prepare for the resurrection of our church.”
“But that’s just it, Father. I...I don’t know if I can do this.”
He hung his head.
“My heart is filled with doubts, and the enemy is constantly attacking me. I don’t know if I have the strength to...”
Master Ko’s heart skipped a beat as he heard these words, but he knew he had a role to play. He placed a comforting hand on Julian’s shoulder and leaned down to catch his eyes.
“Everyone has doubts, my son. Even me.”
His mind raced furiously, trying to spin the best lie possible.
“I was once a great flutist, one of the top students at the Hong Kong Music Academy. My career path was laid out for me, and riches and fame were mine for the taking. But I felt the call to ministry. I wrestled with God for months. It took me almost half a year, but in the end, I decided to follow God’s leading and not my own. And let me tell you – I was attacked day and night by the devil. ‘Think of all that you’ll be giving up.’ ‘What about your family?’ ‘No one will ever know your name…’ For months. I almost cracked several times. But when I was lowest, I cried out to God, and He calmed my turbulent soul. And now here I am. No one knows my name, I am penniless, and I haven’t spoken to my family in years. But none of that matters. I am part of God’s plan for this world in a real, tangible way, and I wouldn’t trade this for any riches, fame, or pleasure that the devil can offer.”
Julian took in the false priest’s words for a moment, furrowing his brow as his mind rolled and twisted inside his skull. Master Ko watched him intently, then moved in for the kill.
“You were born for this moment, Julian. The skills you have, your strength of faith…who better to lead God’s church? There are no heroes left – they are all dead or their faith has withered within their hearts and they are now useless husks. But you…you stand head and shoulders above these human trifles. They are all like lost children, crying out to the heavens for guidance. God has answered their prayers.
In you. You are going to be God’s beacon in this darkness that surrounds us, and no darkness can stand up against the light. There is no shame in realizing who you are and what you are capable of. You only need to embrace the destiny that God has set before you.”
Master Ko saw a fire blazing in Julian’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself for a moment. There were few hearts stout enough to stand firm against a sly assault of vanity. He watched Julian’s face brighten, then darken again.
“But Father, what if I fail?”
Master Ko's pulse quickened with impatience, but he made no outward sign. “Julian, listen to me. Search your heart. Do you feel that this is God’s purpose for you?”
Julian stood silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. Master Ko nodded as well.
“Good. Then you know that God would never ordain a task for you unless He plans to see it through. You are going to change history.”
Julian exhaled, then set his jaw.
“So what is the plan?”
Master Ko motioned for Julian to take a seat, and he pulled up a chair for himself.
“The faithful are descending on Rome even now. I don’t know how many will come, but it will be a great number. There are also many thousands in St. Nero’s Square protesting the Satanic church’s slowness in naming a successor to the Voice. No one knows what is causing their hesitation, but whatever it is, it gives us a clear window of opportunity. The minions of Satan are confused, angry, and leaderless. They fear the growing might of our church, which has been increasing all over the continent. There have even been numerous reports of the Holy Mother herself coming down from heaven to guide and inspire the believers, and they have been purging churches all across Europe.”
“Purging?”
“Like Jesus at the temple. Driving out the heathens by force. It started with the band of assassins, but now it has spread to the entire flock.”
Julian’s eyebrows rose, and he felt a twinge of jealousy. Tourec and his brethren had succeeded after all…
A shrill voice piped up inside his mind.
Let them have their brief glory. Perhaps they started this fire, but you will fan it across the world, and history shall remember your name, not theirs.
Julian’s eyes flashed with determination.
“What must I do?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” Master Ko said. “But I know that you must step boldly out in faith. Trust God to lead you, and do not fear if you cannot see the next step. Everything will be revealed in its time, and everything shall work out for God’s purpose.”
Julian’s chest tightened with worry. This wasn’t a satisfactory answer, but he knew the priest was right. How could he be expected to lead the church if he didn’t have the faith to wait on God?
“Okay, Father. I will fast and wait for God’s plan to be revealed.”
“That is good, my son. Do not fear. You are in the hands of the creator of the universe. Every step we take yields to his slightest whim. I wish I could give you clearer instructions, but I am just a messenger. But take heart that the time is soon at hand; this much I know. While Satan’s church flounders without a head, we will strike at the heart.”
Julian grinned and rose to his feet.
“Thank you, Father. You have shown me much kindness and I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t met you.”
Master Ko returned the smile, though his eyes remained shrewd.
“Likewise, my son. Now get some rest. And remain vigilant. Guard your heart against all doubts and worries. The evil one can speak with many tongues.”
Julian nodded, and Master Ko left the room. As he shuffled through the dark corridors, he could feel his heart singing with a kind of nervous excitement.
Deluded fool. Easier than persuading a child to take a fistful of candy.
He emerged into the chapel sanctuary. It was small, somber, and dim. Yet he could immediately sense that it was not empty.
A whispered voice slithered across his soul.
Excellent work, my child. Your reward shall be great.
Master Ko struggled to restrain his trembling hands.
“Thank you, Master,” he breathed.
He waited, but there was nothing more. He collapsed onto one of the pews. A sorrowful crucifix stared down at him from the wall, and he curled his lip in contempt.
“When this is finished,” he said to the forlorn figure, “you won’t even recognize your precious church.”
A strong gust of wind shook the walls of the chapel and the windows clattered. Then it passed.
Master Ko’s eyes darted around the room, then he glared up at the crucifix.
“Nice try.”
****
Father DeMarco could feel the sunlight. He couldn’t see anything because of the blindfold wrapped around his head, but he could sense that morning had dawned.
His neck twitched involuntarily and a blaze of pain shot through the base of his skull. Every muscle in his body stiffened and he smothered a groan.
Please...please God, not now...
The vehicle bounced and swayed as the driver forgot to avoid a pothole. Father DeMarco groaned again and clenched his eyes tight.
He had awoken about an hour ago from his chemical slumber and found himself blindfolded and being jostled in the back of some kind of automobile. He had no idea where he was going or who was in the car with him. He heard no voices, but he knew there must be more people in the car besides himself and the driver.
His moans of pain apparently attracted some attention, because a rough hand suddenly whipped the blindfold away. The priest sucked in his breath as the morning sun streamed into his eyes, momentarily spiking the pain that festered inside his head.
He was blinded for a few seconds, then watched a face materialize through the glare.
“Good morning, Father,” the stranger said with a toothy grin.
His breath was rancid, and Father DeMarco had to turn away.
“Where are we?” he asked.
The man gestured towards the front of the car.
“See for yourself.”
Father DeMarco followed the man’s arm and gasped. His heart was flooded with a torrent of emotions, and his hands began to tremble.
He never thought he would ever come back to Rome. A swarm of memories rushed through his mind.
“Why are we here?” he asked with a quivering voice.
The man with the giant teeth shrugged.
“This is what the angel commands. She told us to go to Rome, so here we are. I may not be the smartest one of the lot, but I have seen her with my own eyes, and I know enough not to question an angel of the Lord.”
Father DeMarco knew that arguing with this simpleton would be a waste of time.
“And she also told you to bring me along?”
The man shrugged again. “I can’t imagine why, but it’s not my place to ask questions.”
“Even if your commands are to drug and kidnap a priest who follows the same God as you?”
The man’s face darkened. “Listen, you were offered a chance to come peacefully. None of us wanted any trouble. This, what we are doing here – this is all more important than any of us. It doesn’t matter how we feel about it or whether or not we understand it. What matters is that we obey, and my conscience is clear, Father.”
The priest smirked but didn’t press the issue.
“Where are the others?”
The man jerked his thumb towards the rear of the car. “Behind us. We have quite a caravan. And from what I hear, Rome is ready to explode. There are already thousands of believers gathered at the Vatican.”
“What? Why?”
“Taking a stand for Christ. The Satanists have been camped in the square for days, protesting the lack of a successor to their unholy throne. It’s a volatile situation. All it would take is one little spark and...boom!”
The man’s eyes flashed with excitement as he made an explosion with his hands. Father DeMarco saw t
he hungry look in his face, and he felt his stomach sink. He knew what was going on here, why they were coming to Rome.
The charges were set. All they needed was a little fire.
The car lurched over another pothole and he heard the sound of metal clattering in the trunk behind the backseat. He cocked his head and frowned.
“What is that?”
The toothy smile spread even wider across the man’s face.
“The angel told us to bring one more thing to Rome.”
Father DeMarco’s heart started pounding.
****
Blood trickled from Patric’s broken lip. The red droplets on the steel cargo plane floor looked like a bloody starscape.
The ropes binding his hands behind his back bit into the skin on his wrists. He could feel something slick on his palms but he didn’t know if it was blood or sweat. He raised his head, feeling the aching muscles in his neck stretch and groan.
His right eye was swollen shut and the vision in his left was a bit blurry, but he could make out enough details to get an idea of where he was. He could see about a dozen men, all clothed in black, seated against the walls of the plane. Some were asleep, some were chatting, and some just stared into nothingness. They looked like a band of mercenaries out of a Hollywood movie, but Patric was painfully aware that they were the real deal.
After they had ripped him away from Christine at the doctor’s office, they had bundled him into a black van waiting in the trees and a smelly hood was slipped over his head. The last thing he heard before the van door closed was Christine screaming his name.
He felt an icy stab of pain in his heart. What had they done to her? He knew they weren’t going to kill her, at least not yet, but who knew what these brutes would do to her in the meantime?
Another stab of pain grabbed his attention, but this was different. Like something pricking at his conscience. A voice finally broke through the noise his aching body was making.
Oh, so you’re concerned about Christine’s purity? That is beyond ridiculous.
Patric let out a long, painful breath. Of course it was ridiculous. But there was something the voice didn’t understand. He wasn’t concerned with the sanctity of her body – he knew it was too late for that. He just didn’t want her to suffer, especially since he felt strangely responsible for her. Even though she had repeatedly made her opinions about him very clear, he felt a sort of obligation to protect her. He knew he had no reason to, but he couldn’t help what he felt. Perhaps it was to fill the gaping wound that Natasha had gouged, or a desire to assert his masculinity in a world that insisted on pounding him to the ground, or perhaps it was something else entirely.