The Heretic

by Joseph Nassise

  “I wouldn’t want to be trapped in that room if it gets loose, that’s what I think.”

  “Agreed. Which is why I want you and Malone on the other side of this doorway. If anything goes wrong, don’t hesitate. Get inside and put it down, clear?”

  Both men nodded.

  Cade continued. “Duncan, get with Captain Stanton and find out if there is anyone here who served with Bravo Team during the last five years. If there is, I want him here ASAP. Having a priest nearby might not be a bad idea either, so see who you can scare up.”

  “Will do.”

  “Good. Let’s move, people.”

  When Cade turned back to the mirror, he found Winston staring at it from the other side.

  Despite the fact that the mirror was one-way, Cade was sure the revenant could see him.

  To test his theory, Cade took three steps to his right.

  Winston’s head turned to track his movement.

  Back to the left.

  Again, the revenant watched him move.

  It seemed to Cade that, in the revenant’s eyes, there was a deep sense of longing.

  But whether that longing was over what he had lost or simply the desire for his next meal, Cade couldn’t tell.

  It took fifteen minutes to get the details squared away.

  Duncan returned with two men in tow. “Father Garcon, Corporal Reese, this is Knight Commander Williams.” To Cade he said, “I’ve explained to them both what we need. Reese spent three years with Bravo before being transferred here last year.”

  Garcon, a heavyset, balding man, was clearly the priest. Which made the younger man dressed in technician’s coveralls the former Bravo Team member. Cade led him over to the observation window and let him get a good long look at the former Knight on the other side, then said, “How well did you know him?”

  Without taking his gaze away from the glass, Reese said, “We were on the same squad for about eighteen months, sir. Spent some of our downtime together on leave.”

  “So, he would know you on sight?”

  “Normally, I’d say yes, sir.” He didn’t have to explain his hesitation, given Winston’s condition.

  “Good enough. Despite his present condition, the Winston you knew still exists inside that shell. We need to reach him, get him to talk to us. I’m hoping that a familiar face might help him focus on who he was, rather than on what he has become, so I need you to go into that room with us when the times comes. Can you do that?”

  Reese hesitated, swallowed hard, and nodded.

  Cade clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.”

  The commander walked back over to the priest. “Thank you for coming, Father. My sergeant explained the situation to you?”

  The older man nodded, though he was clearly un-comfortable. He had studiously avoided glancing at the observation window since entering the room, and Cade noticed that Garcon’s hands were trembling as he unpacked his portable Mass kit on the table before him.

  “This man is a former Knight of the Order. His belief in God might still survive his present condition. Your presence there could be a great comfort to him.”

  Garcon finally looked up, meeting Cade’s gaze, and the commander immediately knew he had been mistaken. What he had taken for fear was actually anger. “And you, Knight Commander? Shall I pray for you as well?” The priest, obviously, did not approve of his methods.

  Cade ignored the question and the thinly veiled in-subordination. “Just do your job, Father. I’ll worry about my own soul, thanks.”

  Turning away from Garcon, Cade addressed the rest of the men in the room. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  When Malone and Riley were in their places, Cade stepped inside the interrogation room and moved quickly to one side of the door, as Reese and Father Garcon did the same on the other side. Once they were in, Cade closed the door behind them.

  Winston watched them enter the room without getting up. His gaze lingered on Reese for several moments, and a low moan escaped his mouth when he caught sight of the purple stole around the elderly priest’s neck, but that was all. Neither man elicited more than a mild reaction.

  The revenant turned to look at Cade.

  He stared at him for a long moment, unmoving.

  Then he went berserk.

  Winston surged to his feet, straining at his chains and gnashing his teeth as an eerie howling cry burst forth from his mouth.

  Reese and Garcon recoiled, moving for the door; but Cade remained steady, knowing the chains would hold.

  Two feet away from the commander, the chains pulled Winston up short with a suddenness that yanked him off his feet. He slammed to the floor, only to thrash around wildly as he tried to pull himself closer to Cade.

  Cade tried several times to get the revenant’s attention, to ask him some questions, but to no avail. The creature was starving and it was clear to Cade that he wasn’t going to get anything useful out of him until something was done about it.

  Cade turned to face the one-way mirror, and said, “I need a knife. A sharp one. And a pressure bandage.”

  It took only a few moments before the door opened, and the two items he’d requested were slipped inside. Cade took it, withdrew the commando-style combat knife from its sheath, and tested the edge.

  A fine line of blood welled up where he ran his thumb along the blade.

  It would do.

  The creature settled down at the sight of the blood and watched Cade closely, as if sensing his intent. Winston’s hunger was like a phantom presence, palpable in its intensity.

  Under the creature’s watchful gaze Cade knelt and rolled up the cuff of his right pant leg. He set the knife’s edge against the skin of his calf and drew it down sharply. A wafer-thin piece of flesh rolled up behind the blade and fell to the floor. Blood flowed, hot and sharp. Cade gritted his teeth against the pain and slapped the pressure bandage over the wound. Once he was certain the bandage would stop the bleeding, he bent over and carefully picked up his offering.

  The creature watched him, his eyes wide and staring, his hunger a pulsing need that filled the room.

  Cade cut the strip in half and tossed one section to Winston.

  The revenant’s hand shot out and snatched the offering out of midair. He shoved it in his mouth and chewed quickly.

  With that, Reese had seen enough. He banged on the door and exited the room quickly when Malone opened it up. Surprisingly, Father Garcon remained inside. Cade could hear him whispering a prayer of mercy for the unfortunate man before them and turned to see if it had any effect.

  Winston, however, didn’t notice.

  After feeding on even that small piece of flesh, an immediate change seemed to come over him. His gaze grew more alert, his attention more focused on the man standing before him.

  Cade gave it another try.

  “Listen to me, George. I know you can understand me if you try.”

  The revenant’s gaze never left the remaining strip of human flesh Cade held in his other hand.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions. If you answer them, I’ll give you this.” Cade held up the flesh.

  If the revenant could have salivated, Cade was certain he would have.

  “Do you understand me, George?”

  Slowly, Winston raised his gaze from the flesh to look Cade in the eyes. With a barely noticeable twitch, he indicated his understanding.

  “Good.”

  Cade paused, considering, and then asked, “Who did this to you, George? Do you know who it was?”

  Winston tried to speak, but his reply sounded like nothing so much as a choking bark.

  “I’m sorry, George, I didn’t understand. Try again.”

  Again the sound.

  It was obvious that he was trying to cooperate, but the damage to his vocal cords had progressed too far for him to be understood.

  Cade was not yet ready to give up. It was clear that the revenant still possessed the intelligence he had held in life; the person
that had once been George Winston was still locked inside that body, struggling to get out. If he could, he should be able to tell them what they wanted to know. But first Cade would have to figure out a way to allow that to happen.

  As it turned out, it was the revenant himself who found the solution. With one hand he traced the number nine on the floor beside him.

  “Nine?” Cade repeated aloud, puzzled by the answer.

  The revenant repeated the gesture, his eyes locked on the strip of flesh Cade still held in his hand.

  “There were nine of them?”

  The revenant’s head twitched, and his hands clenched into fists as he sought to maintain control. His hunger was growing. Calming himself, he nodded.

  “Okay. The number nine.” Cade didn’t understand what Winston was referring to, so he moved on, hoping a different question might elicit a more understandable response.

  “What did they want?”

  Ignoring the question, the creature suddenly lunged at Cade, his hunger taking his self-control.

  Cade didn’t even flinch. He’d positioned himself carefully, and he simply watched as the revenant fetched up against the length of his chains and crashed back down to the floor, snarling.

  Cade ignored the outburst, trying to keep the creature from focusing on its hunger.

  “Do you know where they are, George?”

  Winston snarled and snapped at Cade with his rotting teeth, his control uncertain.

  Cade tried again. “Help me find them, George. Tell me where they’ve gone. Help me get the ones who did this to you.”

  Winston didn’t respond, just went back to staring at the flesh in Cade’s hand.

  “You’ve got to tell me more, George. I need your help. Do you know where they are?”

  Nothing.

  “Come on, George. Don’t stop now.”

  Still nothing.

  Just that stare.

  And the hunger it conveyed.

  Realizing that he would get nothing further from the revenant until it had fed again, Cade tossed him the thin strip of flesh.

  Like a rabid dog, the creature threw itself onto the morsel, its eyes alight with an unholy hunger.

  But as Winston raised the meat to his lips, he suddenly froze in mid-motion, his hand halfway to his mouth.

  He stayed that way for several long moments.

  Cade signaled for the others to hold still. As they watched, the former Templar shook his head violently, like a dog shaking itself free of water. He slowly lowered the hand holding the morsel to his side and mumbled something further.

  Moving slowly, Cade crouched so that he was on the same level as the revenant. “What did you say, George?”

  Again, the same garbled phrase.

  Impatiently, Cade moved closer. In the next room, Malone and Riley both went on alert, but didn’t interfere with their commander.

  “Please, George. One more time.”

  Winston repeated his statement and this time, Cade understood. What he had first taken for gibberish was actually a two-word phrase, repeated frantically over and over again several times.

  “Help me.”

  Cade stared into the other man’s eyes and saw hope there.

  For what seemed like the longest time neither man moved.

  Then, in one swift motion, Cade drew his gun and shot the former Templar in the head.

  The revenant’s body crashed to the floor, unmoving, his gaze now fixed permanently on the wall behind him.

  As the Father Garcon stepped forward and began blessing the body, Cade stood, whispered a gentle, “Godspeed,” and turned away.

  He had a nest of necromancers to find.

  4

  Just over an hour later there was a soft knock at the door of the Preceptor’s makeshift office.

  “Come,” said Michaels, without looking up from the report he was reviewing. A moment later the door opened to admit the Heretic.

  From his position behind and to the right of the Preceptor, Duncan could see Cade Williams was not a large man, but he was an imposing sight, nonetheless. His face was all hard lines and angles, without even a hint of softness. This effect was heightened by the wide band of angry scar tissue that stretched from beneath the eye patch covering his right eye, down across his cheekbone and around behind his ear. He entered the room with a graceful economy of motion but with what also seemed to be an air of caution, as if he were gingerly moving through the world around him.

  Maybe he was, thought Duncan, as his gaze came to rest on Cade’s hands. The flesh-colored gloves were professionally made, and a casual glance would not have betrayed their presence, but Duncan had spent the last several years paying attention to even the tiniest of details in order to keep the Preceptors safe and he did not miss them. The sight forced Duncan to wonder anew at this man’s abilities.

  Seven years ago, Williams had been a highly-decorated officer of the Massachusetts State Police, serving on the prestigious Special Tactics and Operations team, first as a sniper and later as team commander. He’d been married to his beautiful wife only five months before disaster struck. A hostage situation had forced him into a confrontation with a supernatural entity that Cade had taken to calling the Adversary. His wife had died as a result, and Cade had been severely mauled. He’d lost the sight in his right eye, and the flesh on that side of his face had been so savagely disfigured that plastic surgery hadn’t even been considered.

  He had gone into seclusion for several months after the incident, avoiding the press and doing his best to come to grips with what had happened. Somehow he’d discovered the Order’s existence and successfully petitioned to become a member, claiming that his unique talents could be put to use on its behalf.

  Duncan knew it hadn’t taken long for Williams to rise through the ranks to his current position as Knight Commander.

  It was rumored that Cade had joined the Order with ulterior motives in mind, that he believed the information he gained was the best means of locating and confronting the Adversary, that the Order’s goals and objectives were secondary to his own. It was said that he was after one thing and one thing only.

  Revenge.

  In preparing for the meeting, Duncan read the unit’s after-action reports, the written summaries turned in after any engagement requiring the use of lethal force. Every one of them showed that Echo Team had been exemplary in the performance of its duties. This, of course, reflected well on the team’s leader. Yet, Duncan could read between the lines, could see what the other commanders thought of Williams.

  While Cade flawlessly performed as was expected, those who had used his services were always uneasy doing so. They were happiest when he had completed his mission and was on his way. It was there in the written recommendations, in the seemingly casual comments made when discussing Cade or his unit.

  They were afraid of him.

  At its heart, the Order was still an arm of the Church. As such, it believed in the divine province of Man and in the salvation garnered through the grace of the Lord. How a man rumored to be able to walk with the dead and able to read a man’s mind simply through touch fit into this picture was difficult to determine. Duncan did not blame the others for their fear.

  If everything that was said about him was true, Cade Williams was a man who should be feared.

  Yet, watching Cade wait patiently the Preceptor to acknowledge him, his one good steel-colored eye taking things in with frank appraisal and seeming not the least bit uncomfortable in the Preceptor’s presence, Duncan knew one thing for certain.

  Cade Williams had the best chance of succeeding at the job ahead.

  Michaels finished with his reading, signed the form, and handed it off to his assistant. He rose and extended his hand in greeting. “Thank you for coming, Knight Commander.”

  “Sir,” replied Cade, shaking the man’s hand in return.

  This close Duncan could see that the patch over Cade’s eye hid the majority of the damage to his face, but the scar tissu
e that peeked around it gave testimony to the ruin beneath. His wide shoulders and strong physique clearly showed his dedication to remaining at the peak of performance. He was dressed in a black sweater, jeans, and a pair of work boots. His hair, thin and dark, hung to just above his shoulders, loose and unfettered.

  “Please, sit down,” the Preceptor said, indicating one of the two chairs arranged before his desk.

  “I’m fine, sir.”

  “Suit yourself.” The Preceptor turned to his new aide, a short, dark-haired man by the name of Erickson who was filing the just-signed report, and said, “That will be all,” and waited for him to leave the room before settling back into his chair. Duncan remained where he was.

  “As you’ve no doubt heard, this commandery was attacked last night by persons unknown,” said the Preceptor. “While we don’t know precisely what happened, we do know that every single member of the Order that was on the grounds at the time was slaughtered. Clearly, our people resisted; the evidence of a massive firefight is overwhelming. But that’s all we know - they put up resistance, then died, down to the last man.

  “Which is where you come in, Commander. I’m assigning Echo Team to find out what happened here. Who attacked us? Why? And more importantly, how did they manage to wipe out an entire complement of our people?”

  Cade frowned. “With all due respect, sir, we’re a combat unit. Wouldn’t it be better to put one of the investigative squads on this? They’ve got the training and the connections to…”

  Michaels shook his head, cutting him off. “I considered that, but I’ve decided I want a combat team on this right from the start. Eventually, those conducting the investigation are going to run into whoever is behind the attack and will need combat experience to deal with the situation. With your particular expertise, I think you’ve got the best chance of determining just what is going on and coming up with a plan to put a stop to it.”

  Cade stared into the Preceptor’s eyes for a long moment without saying anything. He glanced up at Duncan momentarily, returned his attention to Michaels, then reluctantly nodded his agreement.