by Athanasios
It took a few attempts before Adam felt comfortable enough to accompany Kosta. The few times he hesitated, they both decided they would not force him. He had to be ready for this life-altering experience. Not only would they have to fight, and maybe kill, but he would also learn everything there was to know about his fate. No longer would anything be hidden.
They came to another set of stairs, and with a wave of Kosta’s hand, they stopped. He looked past a carved balustrade, and with another wave, they scurried up the steps. Adam was not frightened; he rather enjoyed the excitement of the adventure. It also helped that Kosta executed every movement with efficiency and skill. When he smashed the shotgun butt on someone’s head, he would catch them before they made too much noise, gently lowering them to the ground. No one was badly injured, as long as they didn’t fight back too hard. Some came against Kosta with knives and clubs. These, he left with a few more bruises. The longer it took, the more noise it made and Kosta became increasingly agitated. Thus far, he had not used the other end of the shotgun, which was fine with him.
They crossed more than ten corridors, and half as many stairwells, when they stopped and Kosta turned to Adam. “Adam, we’re about to go to the place where you were supposed to have been since birth. It is where you belong. If that’s what you want, you can go and I won’t stop you.” He knew that it was vital the boy understood that he did not keep him by force. He wanted Adam to choose to stay with him. Thus far, he’d been a perfect little gentleman, showing remarkable poise and control when he could’ve been a brat.
The only time he had been destructive, even murderous, was with the fat businessman. His vicious and total obliteration of that Seeker had probably sent shock waves through Hell. His actions were justified, at least to Kosta.
Since then, he only became angry when people were intentionally hurtful. At times, hurting animals would agitate him and became angry when horses and other animals were mistreated in television westerns.
Kosta hoped this distaste for hurt would never leave him, but wanted Adam to arrive at his own conclusions. The belief in not hurting others was the only religion left after peeling away the layers of dogma Kosta encountered in his travels. Though he had knocked out more than twenty people since they entered the Luciferians’ house, he was confident Adam would understand this was necessary for their safety. He was beginning to trust and believe Kosta in everything. There was something about Kosta’s control over himself, and his world, which Adam wanted to learn.
They turned a corner and Kosta lowered the barrel of the shotgun. The hallway appeared to be empty, but when he fired three times, three tall, thin men fell in a heap, one atop the other.
They rushed forward as quickly as Adam could keep up. Kosta burst through a pair of doublewide doors, and five more tall, thin men rushed at them. None were armed, but Kosta did not temper his actions. He pushed the butt of the shotgun at the first and swung it to the left. Both actions produced a spray of blood, one from a nose and the other from a mouth. He swung around to the right and fired, sending one man crashing into the man behind him, knocking both down, one dead, the other splattered with the other’s remains.
Kosta swung down onto the remaining man and broke his leg at the knee, all the while pumping another shell into the chamber and popping the used cartridge. The man tumbled down on his useless leg and looked up, just in time for the shotgun butt to crush his skull.
The fourth man, still splattered with the blood of third, shifted from under the body, and in a frenzy of screams, from an equal number of blows, was reduced to a bloody, pulpy mess.
The two men still standing, both with bloody faces, attacked in unison. Kosta brought the shotgun around, and with the barrel against the first man’s chest, fired through him and brought both of them down, simultaneously. The first man was nearly cut in half, both the top and bottom parts of his frame making a meaty thump as they hit the floor. The remaining man slumped forward, clutching his side, until two steps and a pump of the shotgun later, his face was splattered everywhere.
Kosta felt the room go frigidly cold and looked up to see a bald man, seated behind a desk, gesturing in the air and murmuring incantations.
“No, stop!” Adam screamed. “Don’t hurt him!” At this, the man cursed out loud, staring at his useless hands, then rifling though his desk drawers. He lifted an ancient Browning pistol and fired. The shot missed Kosta, who lunged forward and pushed Adam to the ground, then pointed the shotgun and fired. The blast destroyed part of the desk, as well as the hand that had been holding the Browning.
Kosta stood up and helped Adam to his feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Sorry about pushing you down, but I wasn’t sure he would hit you.”
“I’m okay,” Adam replied. “It’s alright.”
“How dare you use him like that? He’s a child. How dare you put him in such danger?” the man sputtered through clenched teeth.
“You have no idea what I’ll dare Supreme Tribunal. The boy is safer here than any other place on earth. He’s with me and in his father’s house. What could be better?” Kosta had the barrel of the shotgun pointed at Balzeer’s chest and tried to pump another shell in the chamber, but to no avail. As he rearranged the bandoliers of shells, crossing his chest, he spoke to the head of the Church of Lucifer, the Antipope. “You’ve been quite enthusiastic about trying to find your savior. I must commend you. Sending Seekers was quite a feat and very impressive.”
“Choke on your commendation. Who are you to usurp this boy’s birthright? He belongs here and his place is with us. You have no right to change his destiny.” Balzeer felt a righteous anger fill him, unlike ever before. He spoke for more than himself; he spoke for the entire world and all of history, both present and future.
“The boy’s life has been preordained, who are you to disrupt and throw all these precisely arranged lives into chaos? How dare you! I curse you and I condemn you!”
“You can condemn and curse all you want. It means absolutely nothing to me. I don’t care to play a part in this precision, which you call destiny. Mine, yours or his,” Kosta nodded at Adam as he continued to load the shotgun with shells.
A furious growl escaped from Balzeer and he stopped clutching his right stump, reaching for the hand that still clutched the Browning. When he heard the sound of the pump, filling the chamber with a shell, he stopped and slumped back into his chair.
“As for who I am, that is really of no matter or relevance. If I were of any notice to anyone, you would’ve been able to find me by now. I don’t exist.” Kosta didn’t intend to be evasive or cryptic, he just wanted Balzeer to stop talking.
“Adam, is there anything you want to learn from this man?” When he was addressed, the boy stepped forward and looked at Balzeer, who was slowly growing pale, either because he was in the presence of his God, or because he steadily bled from his stump of a hand. He smiled at Adam.
“Your grace. I have waited all my life… we have all waited for your coming, just as much as the Christians wait for their savior. What can I for you to join us and assume your rightful place? What do you want?” He managed to stand, then kneeled before the boy. “Anything you want. Absolutely anything, just name it. I will move the earth and the mountains for you.”
“Leave us alone.” Adam spoke with a conversational tone and took Balzeer by surprise. He hadn’t expected that he would be so articulate.
“You don’t want anything? No toys or games? We’ll get it, whatever is it,”
“He doesn’t want anything. You’re wasting the little breath you have left,” Kosta told Balzeer. “Do you have any questions for him, Adam?”
“Am I really cursed, like old Paula said? Damned, from the devil and from Hell?” Adam asked evenly.
“You’re blessed. You come from a preeminent family, the most respected from among the families of the Nobility.” Balzeer continued, “What does this Paula know of the devil? Does she know that he is an angel who was cast out and looked down upon by his
heavenly fellows? That he is the eternal foe of the Catholics, with their white-bearded geriatric and His fair-haired second son?”
“Am I then? Am I from Hell?” Adam continued.
“You are not. You will rule it, but you’re not from there. You’re flesh and blood, like me, however, you’re also divine, like your father. You are Morningstar’s heir. Just as he now rules Hell, so shall you,” Balzeer responded haughtily.
“Then I am. I’m from the devil, so I’m evil.” Adam was shocked. He thought that Paula and the rest of Sao Paolo were crazy. He did not wish ill on anyone — not even them. He only wanted to live his life without people staring at or fearing him. He hated how their eyes made him feel. Now, he found out that they were right to fear and to hate him.
“The devil is not to be feared. Evil is not what you’ve been told, rather, evil is the freedom to do what you’ve been told you cannot or should not,” Balzeer implored, attempting to make him understand. “The devil was only cast out because he questioned why God was so distant and indifferent to mankind. He was then called Satan, Accuser, but he was God’s firstborn.”
“They’re right then. All of them are right to fear me.” He muttered this horrific realization under his breath, hoping that saying it would help him believe.
“Don’t worry about what they think or what they feel. Do they care what their meals think or feel — their chicken, their pork and their beef? Do they? Some do, but most don’t. However, they do care that what they eat is delicious and that it fills their belly and makes them strong.
“Don’t turn your back on this power and this strength. You were destined to rule on earth, as your father rules Hell. These people are your cattle. If you wish to treat them kindly, then do so. Treat them with as much kindness and care as you want, but rule them, because that’s why you were put on this earth.” Balzeer had reached the end of his entreaties, the end of his pleading. “You cannot give this up.”
“That is the most credible argument I’ve heard from any of your kind. If I didn’t have this shotgun pointed at you, I’d applaud.” Kosta was genuinely impressed at the reasoning Balzeer used to reach Adam. “Telling Adam that he can rule, however he chooses, is brilliant. Kudos. Congratulations. Why not, indeed?” Kosta couldn’t argue with this point and refused to debate the obvious.
Adam was surprised. “You agree with him?”
“Yes, of course I agree with him, but I also see the flaw, which he either does not see, or he does not care.” Kosta continued, “You’re not alone. True change, or control over anything, is achieved if you do it alone or with people — underlings — who are in tune with your beliefs. Look at them and at him. Do you think you could trust him? After all, he is the one who released the Seekers.”
“I only did that to find him, for which you are to blame. If you had allowed him to be born as he was fated, none of this would have happened.”
“I didn’t tell you to slit hundreds of infant throats in order to accomplish this. My hands are clean of innocent blood, but awash in the gore of the guilty, like you!” Six thunderous shots followed, each blowing off a portion of Balzeer’s face.
Kosta’s hands shook with the effort of controlling his rage. A soft, calming hand rested on his quivering arm and Kosta looked down, stilled. Adam had not understood all that was said, only that this man had never hurt anyone or anything that had not first tried to do them harm.
“God, I didn’t think it would get this difficult or this bloody. I’m sorry, Adam. I’m sorry to have put you through all of this. I’m so very sorry.” Kosta lowered the gun and rested it against his left side, taking Adam’s hand in his right hand.
“We have to go somewhere where they’ll never find us. Somewhere very far away,” he said as they walked away from the carnage.
“They’ll still have television and radios, won’t they?” Adam looked eager, his eyes bright with hope, making Kosta smile, despite himself.
“We’ll make sure of that.” They continued back the way they had come, unhindered by any who might have regained consciousness.
- Paper Trail -
TIME: FEBRUARY 20TH, 1963. SECRET ARCHIVES, VATICAN
Brother Quentin was absorbed by codexes. The pages he turned were not paper, but vellum, handwritten by long dead brothers of long dead orders. Whenever he found useful information, he thanked those long forgotten and thought about the current brothers to whom he answered. Their predecessors were very helpful; his current brethren were more secular, if such could be said of a religious order.
The Apostolic Penitentiary dealt with the world of man and had not dealt with the unseen world for decades. Their ancestors were of a time when the unseen was everywhere, just past the edge of the firelight. Now, unless the danger was political the church would do nothing. Those who manned the wheel demanded proof.
At each point in his research he would return and petition his superiors for direct involvement. He showed newspaper clippings, which on the surface referenced the discovery of body parts, but upon closer inspection, compared to Vatican records, were indicative of demonic occurrences. Tissue samples were brought, tested and positively matched to Vatican-authenticated samples.
Still, this prompted no action. Brother Quentin appealed to them directly, using audiences with a few of the governing heads, even the Major Prefect of the Penitentiary, Cardinal Raimondi, but was politely refused, again, and again. Evil was not an abstract, the Major Prefect empathized; evil was real. It revealed itself through the murder of millions in the Second World War. The Nazis brutality in World War II gave way to the covert evil of modern times. The dark, malevolence could not last in the open light, rather, it hid from scrutiny. It briefly lived in the open light of Nazi rule, but slipped back beneath the waves of world attention.
At present, Quentin had fifteen different instances of a demonic presence, tested and verified by the Vatican’s own forensics. All occurred in the San Francisco area. A few were found in a pattern, leading from Sao Paolo, Argentina. This was where Cardinal Colletti, as well as a Luciferian, were found dead, barely a year before.
At the very least, all of these instances, no matter how slim their connection warranted further, and more importantly, direct scrutiny. Quentin was confident that once the situation was addressed, he would be able to have complete control over whomever they assigned to the task. Quentin had either trained or served with every one of their field clerics. They would follow his orders without question.
He also enlisted the help of two select figures in the church — Jesuits who had been fighting Luciferians for most of their careers. Cardinal Augustin Bae, as well as his champion, Father Lancaster Martin, told him they would help in any way they could.
Quentin also had the collated findings of Sister LaParee’s Apostolic Testis. They scanned all the newspapers and found many unrelated stories, which pointed to a suspicion Brother Quentin nurtured since the previous February.
A bank robber from Massachusetts had finally been captured. A sometime writer had seen a midnight duel between a lightning-fast grandmother and a man, retired from the British military. A waitress was caught in the end of an alley, having sex with minors. A file clerk reports gross prejudice and bigotry in those whom she serves. A San Francisco bookstore now carries openly homoerotic literature. A department store closes its doors for fumigation, after many complaints of rotting odors.
Individually, these people had no connection. The Apostolic Testis found one. They all saw someone who should not be there — someone outside perception. He lived apart of public awareness, though, for centuries, he was written off in hushed, fearful tones. The Vatican housed an entire case in their Secret Archives, dedicated to writings concerning him and his many incarnations.
His past hardly mattered. He was prophesized by legion. The most celebrated 16th-century Frenchman, Nostradamus, got his birth wrong. When he reached adulthood, he was to enslave the world. St. John’s Revelation spelled it all out, and Brother Quentin would use
St. John, Nostradamus, the Apostolic Testis, and any means necessary, to move the church against him.
He got up from his seat, flanked by ancient, medieval and pre-industrialized tomes. Walking past woodwork shelves, holding similar texts, he stopped at another table and sat before a dais, holding up a cracked, leather-bound volume.
On the front, the title read, Le Tome de Les Parfaits. This was beside the Sangrael Gospel, Le Menace d’Ours D’Enfer and the Idammah-Gan Codex.
He took a breath, opened it and began to read.
- Tome de Les Parfaits - Depth of Correction V: Wounded Rib -
TIME: EUROPE, PRE-1000 A.D.
Seimon’s faith survived to watch Catholicism infect Europe and the Middle East only to be checked by Mohamed and his followers. Its touch left devastation, along with its salvation. They replaced the spine of conquered faiths with a crutch, and were surprised to see them crippled. In a relatively short period of time, Celts, Saxons, Vandals and Goths all succumbed to the promised life after death.
He settled among Goths, along with a select few who followed the Rose, and began to teach the word of God to those who resisted the Catholics. He taught that each person has their own relationship with God and swayed many, by allowing them to incorporate their traditional beliefs with the new.
He followed the Catholics and built upon their weakness. He struck down the decisions, made in the Council of Nicea, as greedy men wishing to consolidate and expand power. The Jesus who first brought salvation and hope to the world would be unknown to His current followers. More than eighty gospels that spoke of His life as a man would never be known because it was decided to leave them out of the final version of the Bible.
Nicea’s emperor, Constantine the Great, was pagan by birth, and like every politician, was a pragmatist. He saw Christianity as the prevailing faith and decided it would be wise to convert. He made alterations to Christianity, that included existing holidays and stories of Mithra — a god born on December 25th, born of a virgin, who would return after death and be the final judge at the end of time.