by Jon Steele
She arched her back and froze in place for long seconds. No, please no. Then, as if she were an empty vessel, darkness began to fill her form. Jesus, no, fight it. Sensing she was resisting, the darkness wrapped itself around her soul and squeezed. Watching her, Komarovsky smiled with pleasure.
“There is no one to protect you now. And there is nothing you can give me that I do not already own. Your flesh, your mind, your soul belong to me.”
Katherine could barely speak. “Please . . . my son.”
“Stand her up,” Komarovsky commanded.
The goons pulled Katherine to her feet, balanced her like a doll. Komarovsky leaning close to her and walking around her, smelling the flesh of her neck.
“I will chain you to the altar of my temple and you will be my unholy sacrament. You will never grow old, you will never die, you will never see the light of day again. You will have no thoughts, no will, no sense of self. You will only crave my presence, my scent, my flesh. When I come to you, you will fall to your knees and wash my feet with your hair and attend to my every pleasure. Your only purpose will be to breed a race of creatures who will carry my divine seed to the ends of the universe.”
Fuck you, fuck you!
He came around to her face, saw her struggling to resist. He traced his fingers across her mouth, then down her neck. He touched her breasts and caressed them.
“When you have serviced the last of my desires, you will be passed on to my court for the sustaining of their seed. This will be the manner of your existence as the lost souls of paradise are devoured. And when this world becomes barren and there are no more souls on which to feed, we will leave this place for a new world, and you will remain chained to the altar of my temple. For all time you will be raped by the soulless beasts and demons who will inherit the earth. Through your eternity of suffering you will cry my name and beg to be saved, such is the depth of your love for me that you will do all this, and more.”
God, no!
The darkness rising within her clawed into her soul now and began to rip it from her flesh. She could feel the darkness feeding on her.
Don’t! Don’t fucking say it!
“Yes, my truest love,” Katherine said.
Komarovsky turned to the chief physician. “Open it,” he commanded.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the chief physician bow and step solemnly toward the container.
No, please! Don’t hurt my son!
Komarovsky came close to Katherine again, breathing deep the scent of the fear rising from her flesh.
“Profess your adoration for me. Swear that I am your only love.”
Fucker! You fucker!
The darkness clawed deeper into her soul.
“I adore you, you are my only love,” she said.
Komarovsky turned and sat on his throne of bloodied wood. He nodded to the man behind him holding the golden dagger. The man stepped to Katherine.
No . . . no.
“Receive the instrument of sacrifice.”
Katherine looked at the dagger. The blade was polished gold, twelve inches long; the grip was hand-painted in blues and reds; the pummel was rock crystal.
Fuck, no!
But the darkness had pierced her soul and was beginning to feed. She was helpless.
Please . . . no.
She took the grip in her right hand and lifted the dagger from the pillow. The golden blade was mirrorlike, and she saw a face in the reflection. Jesus. The dead-eyed bitch from the bunker was staring back at her with a knowing smile. No!
Komarovsky smiled watching her sink into a new torment.
“Since I tore your son from your arms, he has slept in a perfect state of grace. He has known no pain or suffering. I have loved him and protected him from the mother who would have killed him to deny him his glorious fate. But on this Night of Nights you will take him in your arms. You will carry him through the firewall and lay him on the Anointing Stone, then you will perform the act of sacrifice. Go, my goddess, my slave, go and slaughter your son in the name of the One True God.”
iii
“Time.”
“Twenty-one minutes till midnight.”
“How long to go with the charges?”
“Two. Give me the motion sensor and gaffer tape.”
Harper dug the things from the duffel bag and handed them over. The roadie hooked the sensor to the detonator, set it on the floor. He pulled a strip of gaffer tape, made an inside-out circle, and flattened it into a double-sided sticky strip. He pressed the motion sensor on one side of the strip, pressed the other side against the stone wall.
“That’ll hold it. When the point comes around the corner, they’ll set off the sensor. The first thirty or so will be hit with the light blast. The rest of them will be buried alive when the C-4 detonates. The fuckers will rip one another to shreds trying to get out.”
“Works for me. Let’s go.”
They followed the candles Astruc had set along the tunnel. Two minutes more and they ran into the priest, who was coming back at them; he was holding the lantern.
“The tunnel going forward collapsed. Looks like excavations on the surface caved in.”
“Oops, because it’s too damn late to go back,” Krinkle said.
The priest shook his head. “No need. I felt fresh air coming from somewhere, so I pulled away some of the debris, and I found a hole in the wall leading to a vertical shaft. It is a scramble, but it goes up to a passageway.”
“To where?”
“A chamber with seven more passages leading in different directions, like a compass.”
Harper flashed being led through the Old City by one of Chana’s wolves. “I know that place. It’s part of a network that runs between the walls of buildings in the Christian Quarter. One of those passages is only four or five minutes from the main entrance to the church.”
“That’s what Inspector Gobet said. He’s there and asks if you would be so good as to get a move on.”
Astruc turned around and headed off with the lantern. Harper looked at Krinkle. The roadie smiled.
“Guess he’s done pulling imaginary blue bunnies out of thin air.”
“I guess so,” Harper said.
They hurried through the tunnel, followed lantern light around a turn, and came to the pile of rubble blocking the way forward. Astruc was already crawling through the hole in the wall. By the time Harper and Krinkle got through, Astruc was looking down at them from the top of the shaft. Krinkle scampered halfway up, tossed his duffel bag to the priest, reached back down, and grabbed Harper’s shoulders.
“Up you go, brother, try not to tear open the stomach wound.”
Harper climbed, then came a rush of air pressure from the tunnel beneath him.
“Oh, shit, hold on,” Krinkle said.
Then the earth shook as the C-4 detonated. The walls of the shaft began to crumble. Harper slipped; his stomach slammed into the rocks.
“Fuck!”
He dangled in midair at the end of the roadie’s grip.
“Come on, brother, work at it,” Krinkle said.
“I’m trying.”
“Trying ain’t friggin’ good enough—do it!”
Harper kicked his feet, found his footing, and steadied himself. Krinkle hauled him up.
“Brother Astruc, can I pass up one broken angel?”
“Absolument.”
Astruc’s mighty hands reached down, grabbed Harper, and pulled him up into the passageway. The priest dragged him away from the shaft and dropped him on the stone ground. Harper curled up in a ball.
“Oh, bloody Christ.”
Krinkle cleared the shaft, rushed to Harper. “Your side is bleeding, your leg is bleeding. I need to redo the bandages.”
“No time. Just pull them tighter.”
“The snuff is turning your blood into the consistency of water, brother. You’ll bleed out if we don’t stop it.”
“Just give me something for the pain and tighten the bandages.
”
Krinkle pulled at the bandages around Harper’s stomach and thigh. Harper gritted his teeth against the pain until the roadie hit him with an injector jet. Numbing relief came in a half second.
“That’s all I can do. And for the record, your form can’t take any more painkillers. You’re at the lights-out mark.”
“Understood. How far to the cop, Padre?”
“Three minutes.”
“That puts us at . . .”
“Eleven minutes to midnight,” the roadie said.
“Get me to my feet.”
Astruc lifted Harper from the ground, looked deep into Harper’s eyes.
“Remember, you’re the only one who can awaken the child and set up Komarovsky to die.”
Krinkle pointed his finger in Harper’s face. “So do not take another spear until you save Max and deliver some cosmic payback to the head goon. Then you can take all the spears you want.”
“Got the message. And thanks for caring.”
‘No problem, brother.”
Astruc led the way with the lantern. Two and a half minutes later they came to the radius and Inspector Gobet; the cop in the cashmere coat was not alone. His muscle, Mutt and Jeff, were at their usual positions to his left and right. The three of them were armed to the teeth: Micro UZIs, killing knives, stun grenades. The cop was wearing a comms kit, too, and just signing off.
“Ah, good evening, Mr. Harper. So glad to see you could make it. You’ll be happy to know we have a mobile hospital bus standing by outside the city to attend to your wounds. The sooner we complete this mission, the sooner you will be made well. Father Astruc, as you have the lantern, would you take the point? It’s the passage just behind you. And do be sure to hide the lantern in your overcoat when approaching the outer courtyard.”
“Yes, sir.”
Astruc turned and ducked into the passage. The inspector looked at Harper and Krinkle
“I have already briefed Father Astruc. Corporal Mai and two snipers have just taken positions in the shadows near the church with a view of the courtyard. There are six goons outside standing guard. Our snipers will put them down as we enter. We will then charge into the church on my signal and clear a path for Mr. Harper to reach the boy.”
“What’s happened to Madame Taylor?”
“Corporal Mai reports Komarovsky has seized her soul. He has just commanded her to slaughter her own son. I am afraid she is weakening under his spell.”
“Then what the hell are you waiting for? Order the snipers to take the shot,” Harper said.
“Negative. Komarovsky’s bodyguards have him covered.”
“For fuck sake, Inspector, the snipers use fifty-mil rounds—just shoot through his bloody bodyguards.”
“Mr. Harper, if we fire, we tip our hand. The boy will be slaughtered in a rain of spears. Our only chance is to proceed as you had planned: Come at their backs and take them by surprise. Shall we?” The inspector headed for the passage; Mutt and Jeff followed.
“How did you know that was my plan?” Harper said.
The inspector looked back at him. “I had every confidence that once you understood Madame Taylor’s purpose in being here, you would do exactly as you have done.”
“You think she’s up to it?”
“It is my fervent wish that she is. But it all depends on getting her into the right position at the right time. That bit of trickery, as I trust you know, is up to you. So the proper question is, Are you up to it, Mr. Harper? Have you sorted a means of wounding him unto death?”
Harper tapped the calfskin-wrapped nails in his belt.
“More or less.”
“Good. Now, do hurry along, the witching time of night beckons.”
iv
Katherine approached the silver container as the two hundred men in silver robes chanted in a language she did not understand. Their deep tones and rhythms were hypnotic; the sound got deep into Katherine’s mind, and the meaning of their unholy words was made known to her.
“So did the mother slaughter the fruit of her womb;
And all light in the world was diminished.”
Jesus, stop, Kat!
But her feet continued to carry her on. The chief physician was waiting for her and raised the scepter of his office. Two goons stepped forward and undid the latches of the container. They pulled the top open and pressure was released—shisshhhhh. And when Katherine came around the back of the chief physician, she saw through the glass lid. She saw the circuits and wires, the breathing tubes and air tanks, the blinking monitors labeled HEART RATE, BLOOD PRESSURE, BODY CORE TEMPERATURE. She saw the little boy with black hair strapped to a small hospital bed and the oxygen mask over the boy’s face, his eyes closed as if he was sleeping. She saw the small blue rubber hammer in the boy’s right hand.
Jesus, Max. Please, wake up. Stop me!
“Raise the glass!” Komarovsky commanded.
The chants of the Two Hundred intensified with fervor.
“Then did the One True God ascend to the throne of judgment;
And all the world fell down to worship Him.”
The glass lid was lifted and carried away. The chief physician disconnected the leads and oxygen mask from the small form within the casket. Komarovsky commanded Katherine again.
“Mother, take your son in your arms!”
Katherine slid the golden dagger in her belt. The court of Two Hundred shuddered with joy watching the goddess lift the sleeping child into her arms.
“Mother, lay him on the Anointing Stone!”
Max, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.
Katherine passed through the firewall and circled around the Anointing Stone to face Komarovsky. She laid her son down on the stone.
“Mother, now kiss his brow and slay him!”
She hesitated. Please, no . . . please.
“I command you! Slay your bastard child!”
I’m sorry, Max. Mommy is so sorry.
She leaned down and kissed his brow. She straightened up, pulled the dagger from her belt. She stared at the razor-sharp blade, saw the dead-eyed bitch from the bunker smiling back at her in triumph.
No . . . I can’t.
You will.
“Slay him and prove your love for me!”
Hearing Komarovsky’s voice, Katherine raised the dagger over her head.
Kill yourself, just kill yourself.
You cannot kill yourself, you can only obey the will of the One True God!
Katherine squeezed the grip of the dagger. As much as she tried, she could not turn the blade on herself.
I love you, Max.
She stared at the throat of her sleeping child and she slipped into darkness.
“Lord, we salute the highest!” she cried.
v
Six sharp cracks sounded from the outer courtyard, and a warrior angel’s voice rang out through the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
“C’est le guet . . .”
Stun grenades detonated, SIGs blasted, spark rounds exploded, goons dropped. All the court turned to see the small band of angels and Swiss Guards rushing through the doors. The fifth cohort tried to form a line of shields, but thirty dropped instantly with shots to their backs. The unarmed men in silver robes had no cover, and they went down in a hail of bullets. Komarovsky’s bodyguards pulled their God to the side of the hall, and a platoon of goons rushed to defend them with shields. Komarovsky saw Katherine frozen in place behind the firewall at the Anointing Stone desperately holding on to her soul to keep from drowning in darkness; he saw a flicker of remembrance in her eyes. He followed her eyeline to the doors of the church and saw the bandaged, limping angel crossing the threshold with a gun in one hand and a lantern in the other.
“He lives!” Komarovsky howled.
Harper fired two rounds, blowing open the heads of the chief physician and the high priest, then he raised the lantern high.
“Il a sonné l’heure! Il a sonné l’heure!”
A wave of spears
came at Harper as the flame in the lantern flared, and a thread of firelight shot through the hall and into Katherine Taylor’s eyes. The light picked her up and pinned her against the stone wall beneath the mosaic of the dead Christ. Her body trembled and glowed like a faraway star. Then the thread of light ceased and Katherine fell to the ground. She got to her knees, suddenly aware of the battle around her. She saw the unmoving child on the Anointing Stone.
“Max!”
She dropped the dagger, crawled to her son. She pulled him into her arms.
“Max, it’s me. It’s Mommy.”
The child was limp, lifeless.
“Max, honey, wake up.”
She felt his chest; it was still.
“He’s not breathing. Jesus, he’s not breathing. Harper! Max isn’t—”
She saw Harper on his back; one of the spears had lodged in his chest. He was conscious, reaching for the lantern next to him. The lantern lay on its side, the glass shattered and the flame inside dying in melting wax. All through the church the firewalls began to dim.
“Harper’s down!” Katherine called.
One hundred goons formed into two lines and marched toward the attackers in a wedge formation. They lowered their spears and rushed ahead. Katherine saw the faces of the ones trying to save her son. The cop, Krinkle, Astruc, Corporal Mai, and the rest . . . all being forced back to the doors now. Three more stun grenades rocked the church. Astruc broke right, flew through the firewall at the ambulatory. Corporal Mai and two Swiss Guards, one of them with Krinkle’s duffel bag on his back, broke for the Anointing Stone. Goons fell on them; a sword caught one of the Swiss Guards across the throat and he went down. Corporal Mai and the remaining Swiss Guard fired between shields and dropped the goons, then jumped through the firewall. They moved to either side of Katherine and her son.
“Cover them!” Corporal Mai said while swapping out magazines and opening fire again.
The Swiss Guard pulled a ballistic blanket from Krinkle’s bag and tossed it over Katherine and Max; he reloaded his Micro UZI and opened up. Goons with their backs exposed went down; heads of goons exploded as Astruc picked off targets from the ambulatory. Komarovsky and his bodyguards were pinned behind shields. Mutt and Jeff took positions at the passage to the Place of Mourning and laid down cover fire as Krinkle grabbed Harper and dragged him behind Gobet’s muscle and into the rotunda. Inspector Gobet followed, grabbing the lantern on the way. They hunkered down in the shadows of the Shrine of the Resurrection. Inspector Gobet held the lantern over Harper’s face. Blood oozed from his mouth. Krinkle checked the angle of the spear embedded in Harper’s side.