The Book of Paul -- A Paranormal Thriller

by Richard Long

  “I’m sorry…but this is so…incredible,” I muttered.

  “So are the contents. You read Coptic, correct?” he asked, pointing to the book.

  “Right,” I replied. The missing pages. Now I know why they cut them out. The story begins with Jesus being resurrected in the tomb. Being resurrected. Mother Mary and Mary Magdalene told the other apostles to seal them in the tomb with the body of Christ, “For they knew in Faith (Pistis) and Wisdom (Sophia) that he would soon return.”

  Suddenly a great light fills the cave, the stone rolls away, an angel appears, and bada-bing,bada-boom, Jesus is back! After many hugs and high-fives, they all go to visit his disciples, who are hiding out from the Romans in the home of…Apollonius. He apologizes for unmentioned “transgressions.” Christ forgives him, kisses him, calls him his brother, then he begins his sermon, telling everyone of his journey to the divine realm and back.

  “Apollonius? What’s he apologizing for?”

  “He made a mistake.…well, a few of them,” Paul said, turning to face the angel. “First and worst, he fell in love. Love is always tragic, but in this case, as with your current malady, it was disastrous.

  “She was…as he was…in the beginning. His mate in more than name. She bore them twins, male and female. The angel appeared at their birth and revealed that the time of the prophecy was at hand. The babes had been chosen. They had been chosen—not the elders. Needless to say he was…devastated. Even so, he had sworn to fulfill the will of the Nous. She told him how they could transmit the Intelligence directly to their children without sacrificing their own lives—the path her line had always followed. She said it was the only way to ensure complete knowing. ‘Our memory and all that has come before is in their blood. They only need to awaken.’

  “He saw the truth in her words, but he had taken the old path for so long, Turning inside dedicated disciples, all more than willing to sacrifice their mortal flesh for the greater good. Now he was supposed to merely pass on his hard-won knowledge when the boy came of age—so he could be the Master?

  “It was never his intention to consume the boy. He loved him dearly. He tried so hard, but his will to survive was so old, so hungry, it would not be denied. When they returned from the Maelstrom, his mate had passed the Intelligence to their daughter as intended. But he had taken the boy, as he had so many others. The women cursed him in his new young body. Abandoned him. And the Nous…the Nous sent Yeshua, to cleanse his sin and set things right. Wasn’t the loss of his family, wasn’t their scorn, their abandonment, punishment enough?

  “Well, one of them had to go. You can’t steer a ship that big with two captains at the helm. When Yeshua and his disciples arrived in Jerusalem, Apollonius suggested preaching in a more hospitable environment. The Romans didn’t want any messiah. How could he know that the High Priest of the Sanhedrin was listening? He warned Yeshua they were coming. There was still enough time to escape. That would have been a win-win. But nooooo, Yeshua was convinced that he was the chosen one! Well, he was, but not the first. There’s such a thing as seniority. Still, he wouldn’t budge. ‘The Nous guides my destiny.’ Some destiny. Right up to the very last minute, he still couldn’t believe the cavalry wasn’t coming to pull him off that cross.

  “Then Mary acted like I was to blame! ‘You haven’t won!’ Really? Just look at him! Not that I said that to her. But she still kept digging away at me, ‘The world will hear his message! She will tell it!’

  “Mary Junior. Well, fuck me! Just one look at the two of them together and I knew. Big Mary didn’t have one child…she had two! The new Matriarch! When Yeshua came back, he blessed Sister Mary to carry the word. Well, the boys didn’t care for that, I can tell you. They toed the line for awhile, out of respect for Yeshua, but Peter…well let’s just say the Rock wanted to roll…right over Mary. He vowed revenge on Apollonius too. Four centuries later he delivered, through Patrick. But he who laughs last, laughs best, and before long we’ll be splitting our ribs. Which reminds me, I have another gift for you.”

  He walked back into the sitting room. Following, I said, “You started talking about Apollonius in the third person and ended in the first.”

  “And?” he replied, looking at me curiously.

  “Are you saying what I think you are?”

  “Billy, do you honestly need to ask that question?”

  “I just want you to come out and say it.”

  “He who has ears, let him hear,” Paul replied sternly. “I have been talking to you of nothing other than this subject since we first began our dialog. What more is there to say?”

  “Well, you could say, ‘Apollonius, Pythagoras, Hermes Trismegistus were all previous incarnations of me!’ or, ‘I’ve passed on my soul from body to body for thousands of years and I’m about to do it again.’ And, ‘I personally knew Jesus fucking Christ and was sort of responsible for getting him crucified, but he forgave me after his resurrection!’”

  “Very well phrased, Billy. But Yeshua said it best, when Pilate popped the question. ‘It is as you say.’ Short and sweet. Now are you ready to look at your present?”

  I’d been agonizing about this for weeks. Squirming with doubt, scared to death it might really be true. I thought I would feel something akin to dazed astonishment if he finally came out and said it. But now that he had, with the casual indifference of an Olympic athlete displaying his medals for the umpteenth time, I felt like I’d been robbed of my big moment.

  “Yeah, sure, whatever,” I grumbled, shaking my head in frustration.

  He led me over to a huge armoire. “I think you’ll find this infinitely more useful and satisfying than that moldy old text,” he declared theatrically, opening the ornately engraved doors. I stood there speechless. It was filled with all this S&M gear: masks, ball gags, and very weird, very nasty torture tools. He grinned at my shocked expression and pointed to a bizarre metal contraption on the bottom shelf.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “An impaler,” he said proudly, “for your big date!”

  “An impaler?”

  “It’s a real beauty, isn’t it? Think of it as a helping hand to see you through. The device is spring-loaded, triggered by off-balance movement. I’ll do the heavy lifting, get her settled down nice and cozy. All you have to do is give her a little tip and the machine will do the rest. Ca-ching! But don’t press the black button on the bottom. That’s the fail-safe locking mechanism, in case something goes wrong and we have to keep her on ice.”

  “Oh, God…please, don’t make me do this.”

  “Make you?” Paul snarled. “I should think you’d be chomping at the bit after all I’ve offered. Unlimited wealth and soon, unlimited power—what more could you possibly desire? I can’t believe I’m still encouraging you with the promise of rewards. We should be far past that stage by now. You should be killing her for the sheer pleasure of it. Trust me, I know you better than you know yourself. You’ll take to murder like a duck to water.”

  “You’re wrong about me. I’m not who you think I am.”

  “No, you’re wrong about you. You are part of us. We are the same.”

  “I’m not anything like you!”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Paul said calmly. “Maybe you’re not a bit like me. Maybe I’m exactly like…you!”

  He let out a thunderous laugh that scared me even more than his bizarre declaration. When he settled down, he gazed into my frantic eyes and spoke in a soft, sinister voice.

  “You think your achievements and transgressions are restricted to the choices you make in this lifetime, but you are wrong. I am everything and everyone that has come before me, as are you. Your blood carries the knowledge and memories of every preceding generation. The sins of the father are truly the sins of the son, passed down endlessly, regardless of the veil of forgetfulness that hides the truth from your awareness.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Exactly who do you think you are, William
?”

  I thought he meant I was out of line with my question. Then I realized he was literally questioning my sense of identity. I told him exactly who I thought I was. He laughed.

  “You didn’t even know your own name until I told you! In your veins flows the blood of the most illustrious and accomplished forebears that have ever walked the face of this truly god-forsaken planet, yet you know nothing of your heritage other than what has been revealed to you by me. Yet, regardless of the near totality of your ignorance, your blood knows the truth. And your blood aches to awaken to your forgotten glory.”

  I said nothing. He kept pushing.

  “You did so well in the chapel. You saw the angel. You witnessed the power of the Book. It brought you back from the brink and took you to your true place of birth. Yet you still can’t remember yourself. But in spite of what you can or cannot grasp, there’s one thing you can sense right down to your very bones, of this much I am certain—that the only thing that matters in this or any universe is the Wheel and the power to control it. Not just enough for another Turning so we can buy enough time to dance this ballet all over again. The power to control it utterly, completely…and forever. This is our destiny and the only thing standing in the way is your foolish, futile resistance. We can do it this time! So play your part and kill that bitch!”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he pressed a blunt finger to my lips. “No. No more talking. You know what must be done, so do it.”

  “I love her,” I pleaded.

  “We always hurt the ones we love.”

  “I don’t care if you send me to jail or do whatever you want. I…won’t…kill her.”

  “Yes…you…will. And in the end it won’t be because of threats from me. You will kill her out of your own hatred and jealousy and greed…your lust for power and vengeance. You will kill her because you always kill her. That is your role, your destiny—your true self.

  “What if I kill you instead?” I seethed, thinking about Mother again.

  “You’re welcome to try. You can make your bid as you have so many times, with and without the wizard’s aid. Loren doesn’t know the whole story, yet he plays his part, as do you. If he hasn’t already, the serpent will ask you to betray me. Maybe you will and maybe you won’t. The story changes with each telling, so there’s no way to know that yet. But in your quest to slay me, unlike your murder of the dear, sweet princess, you have always failed. That has never changed, not a single time. So stop whining about your petty emotions and save your energy for the work that still awaits us after the Turning, when we rebuild the Temple and forge the Great Wheel.”

  “You’re actually going to make them…in our world?”

  “We’re already well on our way.” He raised a finger and walked back in the library. He returned with his arms full of scrolls. They weren’t ancient. They were blueprints. He spread them across the table. “We have to clear the property first. There are some buildings cluttering up the landscape that need to be demolished. We’re going to need plenty of room.”

  He wasn’t kidding. It was amazing. Truly majestic. A massive temple complex with an enormous tower. Exactly what I always imagined an insanely huge pagan temple would look like, maybe in Atlantis.

  “It’s sure going to attract attention.”

  “I certainly hope so,” he nodded proudly.

  “Are you trying to start a Holy War or something?”

  “Not something. Precisely that. We can’t end this epic story without a big finish. Good versus evil, angel versus devil, Pagan versus Christian versus Muslim.”

  “What’s going to happen? What does the Wheel actually do?”

  “What doesn’t it do? If I can make a golden egg out of pure aether sit in the palm of your hand in the world of dead gravity, what do you reckon could be accomplished at the heart of the Maelstrom if you possessed such an instrument?”

  “You could do anything…make anything.”

  “Yes, but I only want to make one thing.”

  “What?” I asked, suddenly afraid to hear his answer.

  “A God.”

  “A God,” I repeated numbly.

  “Even if I do nothing, even if I’d never been born or chosen or filled with the spirit—the Becoming will still occur,” Paul continued, disregarding my stunned reaction. “It was ordained by the prophecy six thousand years ago. The Singularity will set the stage, and shortly, very shortly afterward, the Intelligence will become fully manifest in human flesh. There is nothing in this or any universe that can stop that from happening. It is the irresistible intent of the Nous—the point, the sole point of everything that has ever existed. To facilitate the proper outcome of this event is what we have dedicated our lives and our deaths to since the building of the first Tower in Babylon—and the Great Wheel beneath its foundations. Our enemies have tried to steer the Nous in their favor, convinced that their path is the only true course to victory. But regardless of what they do or believe, or what we do or believe, the Becoming is inevitable. The only questions that remain are when and where and how and most importantly to me…who.”

  “Who?”

  He gave me a sly smile, striding back to the altar, resting his hands heavily on the ancient leather codex.

  “If there’s a God to be born…he’ll surely be holding the Book.”

  I came unstuck from Paul’s mind just as the elevator opened.

  “Honey! I’m home!” he shouted as he walked inside. Rose looked at me in absolute terror. I thought she might trigger the trap just from the way she was quivering.

  “Well, if it isn’t Billy the Kid!” he cried, savoring our expressions. “Hello, darlin,” he said sweetly, walking over and giving her a kiss on the forehead while she tried to duck it. “I see you’re all bright eyed again. Hmmm. Even had a little drinky!”

  He gave me a dirty look and set the Beretta down on the tea table. Daring me. He even turned his back to take his overcoat off, draping it over an eighteenth century love seat. When I didn’t move for the pistol, Rose glared at me with such anger and betrayal that I thought she would trigger the impaler again. All in due time, I wanted to tell her. All in due time.

  “I don’t know why Martin bothered with those band-aids,” Paul said, turning around. “It’s not like you’re going to leave this place alive.”

  “Shoot him!” Rose screamed. “Pick up the fucking gun and shoot him!”

  “Why in the world would he do a foolish thing like that? Even if he wanted to rescue you—and I can assure you he doesn’t—he’d still need to get you out of that chair.”

  Paul waited for me to say something or do something. Rose motioned with her chin toward the pistol again. I looked at her and the Beretta and Paul’s smiling face. Then I closed my eyes and tried to find Martin. He was in the elevator, pounding the button. I could see the bulges in his big coat pockets. I knew what was inside.

  “What were you just looking at?” Paul growled as I opened my eyes. “Is there something you want to share with us?”

  His glare felt like a crowbar, but I didn’t think he knew. Even so, I had to buy more time. “What’s that?” I asked, staring at the bulge in his shirt pocket.

  “Oh, this little trinket?” he whispered, giving me a conspiratorial wink. He stood up and clapped his hands over his head like he was calling the tribal council to order. The stench from his armpits was almost enough to make me heave.

  “Why, this is the most glorious jewel I’ve ever laid eyes on. The Star of India, the Hope Diamond…mere baubles by comparison. I was going to stop by Cartier on the way over and have it put in a proper setting, but first I wanted to show it to the lassie in all its unadorned perfection.”

  Paul dipped his fingers into his shirt pocket like a magician reaching for a rabbit. I had to hand it to him, he sure had a flair for showmanship. He pulled it out slowly and when it was fully exposed, he swung it back and forth like a hypnotist’s pendulum.

  Hypnotized we were. For about three seconds. Rose let
out an ear-splitting shriek when she realized who it belonged to. Her scream went on and on. Then she stopped as suddenly as she’d started, staring at the fireman in the doorway.

  “I think that belongs to me,” Martin said.

  “Here you go!” He threw the eye toward Martin in a low, lazy, underhand arc. Like a softball pitch. Martin watched it fly and felt the pistols in his hands taunting him. His reaction was instinctive. He dropped the gun in his right hand and caught it. It was all the time Paul needed. He made a lightning fast tuck and roll, snatching up the gel cap gun Martin dropped.

  Shit! screamed the voice in Martin’s head as he saw Paul’s “gotcha!” grin and watched Rose’s face dissolve in terror.

  If there had been time, I would have told him not to be so hard on himself. How could he not catch it? After all, it was his eye.

  Martin didn’t dwell on his fuck-up. He made another one instead.

  “Are you okay?” he foolishly asked Rose, putting his eyeball and sunglasses in the big coat pocket while he kept his remaining gun on Paul. Rose let out a horrified cry when she saw the empty socket, which gave Paul a sufficient distraction to pop back up behind Rose’s chair and grab the wood with his spare hand. Sonofabitch!

  “Can’t say that she is,” Paul grinned triumphantly, covering Rose’s mouth with his hand as she tried to answer. “But I’m glad to see you’re back in the pink, Martin. Did you think your sleeping beauty act could throw this ole hound dog off your scent? I must say though, I admire the fancy weaponry. Tetrodoxin gel caps! My, my! What was the plan? Have your cruel way with me while I’m helplessly paralyzed? What do you think about that Billy?”

  “What the…” Martin mouthed, finally noticing me in his significantly more limited peripheral vision. He wheeled around, his mind flipping through all the images he’d seen in the Chapel, still not finding a match. “Who the fuck are you?”