Adramelech continued as they all stopped a few feet from him: “Yes, it was Panama, that tropical armpit of the world where those fucking monks got their hands on me decades ago. I must remember later to go back there and turn it into one great smoking hole in the ground, a stinking hemorrhoid to all those who would defy the true power.”
His words hit Clay like being dowsed with ice water. He berated himself for his thoughts of a few moments before. What had he been thinking? This was a living manifestation of evil, the Beast itself, an arch enemy of all that was good and pure. So why was he having to fight rising feelings of love and charity towards the man.
“Steady Clay,” Maria warned, feeling him relax beside her and guessing why he showed no concern. “Don’t fall under his spell. He is evil...he is a devil. Pray for strength...pray...pray.” Clay could hear her whispering the Our Father again and again as they stood.
The detective felt as though two halves of him were fighting for supremacy: one yearning to surrender to the charms of this handsome and friendly stranger, the other urging him to loath and distrust it. Still, his manner was so warm and inviting that Clay was actually beginning to feel affection for him. He took a deep breath, recited a silent Hail Mary and asked for the strength to resist. He felt the demon’s hold on him begin to wane.
“There, there,” Adramelech said. “Relax. We’re all old friends here, though I think our esteemed Father Gallo may carry a grudge based on his time as my house guest. Still, he did come round. See, if you promise a mortal immortality, few will refuse, no matter what the price. And, we all know that Father Gallo was perilously close to going to that big reward in the sky. Or, was it to eternal damnation for his sins against the church. Can’t remember – must be something in the water.”
He laughed and fixed the old priest with a wicked stare as he swept back his cloak over one shoulder. “He was some firebrand when he was younger though; before he decided to settle, that is. Always questioning dogma, always lobbying for revisions in an organization that resists change like a bad smell. Yes, he was a thorn in the side of the Catholic Church for some time.” He laughed out loud and then resumed his speech. “But if you think he spoke ill of his God and his church because of his inherent inability to harbor faith, you should have been privy to his other inner thoughts as well. I was...after a fashion.”
Gallo stood limply in front of Adramelech like a deactivated puppet, not reacting to anything said.
Adramelech now turned slightly and faced Clay. “Man, remember that nurse that looked after you in the veteran’s hospital in New York? The one with the ass. Well he wanted nothing more than to ram his pickle into her and watch her eyes light up. And, his housekeeper? Many a night he dreamed of her in his bed, I tell you. He was certainly a randy old fart. But like all old guys when they have little left to offer, he resumed his desire for his religion.”
Gallo still stood mute in front of the demon, eyes downcast.
Adramelech advanced and waved his hand in front of the priest’s face. “Holy boy...still got doubts about the Church? About your God? About those mongrels in the Vatican? Let’s hear from you; oh, I forgot.” He looked up at Clay and Maria with a tiny apologetic smile. “He’s still mine; perhaps I’ll give him back his mind and we’ll see what he thinks. Look...hocus pocus! I release you from my will.”
Father Gallo staggered, caught himself and slowly shook his head. He looked up at Adramelech. “You!” he whispered in anger, as though seeing Adramelech for the first time. The old priest spit at the demon, his hatred as plain as the immediate and evident deterioration in his physical condition. His shoulders lumped into their usual rounded condition, his frame bent forward and his stance became that of an arthritic-laced 75-year-old. Pain flashed across his face as he stiffly sought to move a few steps.
“You see,” Adramelech said. “I take him in, nurture him and make him one of us and what thanks do I get. Nada. As soon as I remove my influence, he reverts back to type. See, he’s a priest again...but only because I no longer want control of him. Because I no longer need him. He fulfilled his purpose, to deliver you two and your precious little case there. Now he has outlived his usefulness. Hey, holy boy. Face it, my dear Father Gallo; you’re a professional fuck-up.”
Summoning his remaining energy, Father Gallo suddenly leaped at the demon, his hands going for his throat. Adramelech smashed him flat with a backhand that rendered the priest senseless and sent him sprawling, rag-doll-like, to the floor.
Forgetting her fear, Maria hurried forward, knelt beside the old man and looked at Adramelech with contempt. “You are doomed, Beast...God knows it, we know it and you should know it,” she called out in a surprisingly firm voice. She confirmed Father Gallo was breathing normally and, clutching the aluminum case to her breast, retreated back to Clay. There was nothing more she could do.
The demon grinned maliciously. “Oh, there you go. Spoiling the party with your God things. Look little girl, your God...actually...our God... doesn’t really meddle down here anymore, does He? After all, He sent you His Son with the intention of saving mankind and how did you humans repay Him? By whipping the shit out of His boy, jamming a crown of thorns on His head and nailing the little bastard to a cross – thank you very much. Wow...no reception, no cake and no parade.
“So even you can understand why He was pissed with you. I mean, really pissed.” He chuckled again. “No more leading His chosen people to glory. No more redemption for the Jews. And no more free manna from Heaven. No sirree Bob...after that little debacle, you may have noticed that he let a lot of bad things happen here. Genocides, plagues, fires, floods, earthquakes, wars and even...corporate malfeasance. Now that last one is a real shitter isn’t it? All those captains of industry going to jail? What? About five out of five thousand who deserve it? Boy when I’m king, I’m going to recruit those good ole corporate types since they know how to slip it to the public without them even feeling it. Long as they get their stock options and obscene bonuses, fuck the shareholders and the rest of the world. They happily sell both their humanity and morals for pieces of paper. But you know when they see the light? When they’re gasping for their last fucking breath. Then they expect to be forgiven.” He laughed shrilly. “But by that time they discover that they’ve been abandoned and nobody in hell really gives a shit about a few pieces of paper with pictures of dead presidents on them.”
“G-God has not abandoned us,” Maria responded, though shakily.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Adramelech screamed, his voice booming off the walls and echoing down the corridors. Panicked squeaking and clicking could be heard from afar.
Clay and Maria visibly wilted and held each other tight, the case between them. The air had grown darker and thicker; once again they began to gasp for breath.
The Arch Demon seemed to regain his composure and the twinkle was back in his eye as he manipulated his own shoulders as though slipping back into a more comfortable role. “You’re right Maria, He hasn’t abandoned you. He’s just forgotten about you and the Catholic Church and every other godforsaken religion in this world. That’s where the term comes from – God-for-saken – means He’s left on the last train to Clarkston...hopped a slow boat to China...took a powder...punched His ticket and is outta here.”
“You will never defeat the Lord.”
“Defeat Him? He won’t even come out and play. Where is He, pray tell?” He reached down with a single hand and lifted up the end of the couch on which he’d been sitting moments before. “Is He here...under the couch? Nope.” He dropped it with a loud crash that echoed in the hall.
“Is He in my pocket?” He dug a hand into a side pocket. “Nope. Not there neither. Where is He? It’s a fair question, isn’t it? Do you see His handiwork in the diseases, famines or pestilence? Nope. But you see my boss’s handiwork everywhere. Why just yesterday we wiped out a whole busload of those Holy Rollers on US I-95.” He chuckled again. “Get this. They were all still singing hymns when they went ove
r the cliff in their new, Sunday go-to-meeting van. Course I can’t mention the brand name of the vehicle whose brakes failed, but let’s just say it wasn’t Japanese. If those Nips know one thing, it’s quality; got to give them that.”
Adramelech stretched and yawned showing perfectly white teeth in a wide handsome mouth. “Now I suppose you think because I’m all dressed up here and look pretty good for a human, that we’re going to all sit down at a Last Supper or something, but the truth is I’m tired. Yes, even demons in human form need their sleep. So I’ll just take that case of which you seem so fond, Sister Maria. Or have you abandoned all that malarkey because you have the ‘hots’ for Lieutenant Montague here? Sorry, that should be Detective Montague, right?”
Maria reached down and tried to open the snaps of the case but they held fast. She nodded to herself and abandoned any further attempts. “His will be done,” she said simply.
“You bet, his will is to be done,” Adramelech said. “Of course, we aren’t thinking of the same party, I’m sure. Now look. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is to give me the Relic and I’ll smote you and you’ll be history and the world will live happily ever after. Or unhappily ever after, as it were. Or, I can chase you round trying to get my hand up your skirt and eventually you’ll falter and I’ll have my way with you AND get the case. Truth is, I’m tired and I have some of your hangers-on to deal with outside. So let’s make a deal. Give it to me or I’ll kill you both...slowly.” He grinned. “Now you make a counter-offer...and we’ll see what happens.” The last sentence came out as nothing more than a malicious threat.
Clay and Maria watched in fascinated horror as Adramelech began to morph into an alternate humanoid form. His shoulders and arm and leg muscles grew more pronounced, his head became triangular in shape, his nose lengthened and lips stretched wide. His eyes had changed from an attractive blue to a black shiny obsidian obscuring the whites entirely. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, Clay and Maria were looking into a turpitude of depravity, wickedness and hopelessness.
Father Gallo had regained consciousness and was trying to rise. He held up one hand. “Sister...Maria, don’t let him get the Relic,” he implored. “God forgive me for what I’ve done.”
“Oh don’t get sanctimonious on us, Father,” Adramelech said sarcastically. “You really didn’t have any control, so why should anything have to be forgiven? If you’d like, old man, I’ll write a letter to your boss telling him how I corrupted you and used some magic to get you to betray your friends, your church and everything you tried to believe in all your life—.”
At that precise moment a clap of thunder split the air and the oak doors in the foyer blew inward sending splintered pieces of wood, chunks of stone and shards of fire ricocheting into the Great Room.
~ 9 ~
The pilot busily shut down systems, turning knobs, flipping switches and punching buttons until all power and fuel flow was cut. “We’ve got to get out,” Frazer shouted to his passengers as he freed himself from his restraining harness. He grabbed his observer by the shoulder: “Arthur, wake up! Are you hurt?”
“N-No...I don’t think so,” Cockerill replied, recovering from shock and also undoing his harness.
“Cardinal...Chief Superintendent...everyone back there...is anyone injured?”
After a stunned silence, all four passengers leaped into action and unbuckled their seat belts as smoke began to fill the helicopter. Frazer heard a chorus of voices claiming they were unhurt.
While the rotor, and tail had pretty much disintegrated, the main body of the helicopter remained twisted and dented but in one piece.
“But that was a piss poor landing, old chap,” Cruickshank grumbled, forcing open the door with a squeal of metal on metal.
The six men tumbled out the door to the ground, the Crusaders hauling huge, navy blue duffle bags emblazoned with gold, templar-style crosses. Frazer looked at the wreckage and shook his head. “What a bloody shame! I just couldn’t hold her. There’ll be right hell to pay for this.”
“Nobody could have controlled it in that blast,” Constable Cockerill said, laying a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “You did a jolly good job in saving our lives, Myles.”
The pilot reluctantly nodded.
Malachi, Cruickshank, and the two priests came round the wreckage and gathered together looking at the drawbridge. In fact, it wasn’t the bridge on fire at all, but one of the oak doors. The other was partially blown off its hinges with pieces of it lying on the bridge blazing away. The opening itself was a sheet of flames licking hungrily at the remaining door, the assorted framing and the twisted steel staves effectively blocking the half entrance.
“Any idea who blew the doors?” Father Nathaniel demanded, as he and Father Oberon pulled on black leather gloves, extracted M-16s from their equipment bags, busily slapped 30-shot box clips into them and chambered initial rounds. They were ready to fire at the first pull of the trigger. A lethal-looking shotgun was slung over the shoulder of Father Oberon. Each man now reached into his personal duffle bag and selected three blessed hardwood stakes which were quickly fitted into their cartridge-like bandoliers.
“Father Gallo, perhaps?” Malachi ventured.
“No matter sir, we’ve somewhat lost the element of surprise.” Father Nathaniel said. “Time to get in there before they regroup or whatever.”
“We’re coming,” Malachi added, as the priests blessed themselves and began to move out.
Both priests stopped dead and Father Nathaniel held up a hand as his companion also turned back to the group.
“It would be better to wait until we clear the immediate area, Your Eminence,” Father Oberon said, looking back at the huge fortress before them.
“Afraid not, my friends,” Malachi insisted. “You’ll need all the help you can get.” He looked at Frazer and Cockerill. It wasn’t going to be pleasant inside. If they failed, there was little use in more dying. Also, the two men brought little added value to the equation so he quickly found a way to spare them and their self esteem. “We need you two to guard the wreckage or even better...get the hell out of here and get us some help. I’m sure we’ll need a doctor before this is done. Also, see if the village has any sort of ambulance.”
The pilot and police observer looked at the size of the castle, the roaring fire in front and the weaponry of the priests. Trying not to appear too eager, they said in chorus: “If you’re sure, sir...very good, sir...!” and immediately headed off across the boggy land.
“I’ll go along with you Mustavias and arrest this blighter,” Cruickshank insisted.
The two priests raised their eyebrows at Cruickshank and gave a questioning look to Malachi.
“He’s Presbyterian,” Malachi said, shortly.
The priests gave rueful grins and shrugged. Father Oberon brought his M-16 up, sighed and said: “Well...time to slay the dragon.”
~ 10 ~
Clay and Maria scrambled to their feet, yards from where they had been standing after being hit by the concussion of the blast. Stunned for a moment by the explosion, they stared around at the smoke and wreckage. The main force of the blast had been deflected off an inner wall facing the doors and directed down the corridor they passed and into the Great Room where a previously pristine setting had been turned into a melee of overturned couches and chairs, smashed lamps and burning carpets on the floor. There were banners aflame on the walls and an assortment of medieval weapons and pieces of metal armor scattered everywhere. The suits of armor lay in precise rows along the walls like dead medieval soldiers.
Adramelech was nowhere to be seen and Father Gallo was picking himself off the floor. “What happened?” he asked, blankly looking around in a daze. His forehead was bleeding from a three-inch gash. “Oh...Jesus, I remember. Come, we can escape through the tunnel.”
“Why should we listen to you,” Clay said, still angry over his betrayal.
“It-It wasn’t me...he-he had some sort of
control,” Father Gallo stammered. Clearly confused, and yet with memories rushing back, the old priest could barely maintain his balance. His previous strength and agility was long gone and he was breathing hard with the effort of merely standing. “I don’t know what happened to me. He took me when I got off the plane in London and brought me to some cemetery.” More memories followed and the sudden despair was evident on his face. “Oh my Heaven, he sent me to meet Father Gant. He made me...” Tears flooded his eyes and he sank to his knees. “No...no...Frederick,” he kept saying over and over as memories of what he had done returned.
Though not understanding his lament, Maria stepped forward. “Father Gallo, please get hold of yourself! Nothing was your fault. But we must leave here at once.”
“Go-go without me...I deserve to die for what I’ve done,” Father Gallo said, down on one knee now and trying to catch his breath. “I remember...I was to bring you here.” He looked around and slowly shook his head in amazement. “I betrayed you. What on earth have I done?”
Clay dragged out his revolver, flipped the cylinder open, and dropped the spent shells with a clatter onto the stone floor. He used a speedloader to punch six more rounds into the chambers.
“You have done nothing wrong, Father...come with us,” Maria persisted.
“Leave...save the Relic...save yourselves,” he answered. “With me along, you will never make it. I’ll try and delay him. Go...go now! I beg you!”
“He’s right Maria...come on,” Clay said, grabbing her by the hand and heading through the smoke for the foyer. She still clutched the Relic in its case and together they ran towards the burning entranceway. Within seconds they skidded to a stop as they looked at the huge doorway which was now a solid mass of roaring flames. Only one door was partially down. Still, what remained was a burning and twisted mass of metal and wood that formed an impenetrable barrier.
“We can’t get out,” Maria cried. “We’ll burn to death if we try.”
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