The Third Seal

by Sean Deville

  “You never did tell us how you acquired your injuries.” A powerful man with such damaged limbs. What could have caused that?

  “And I never will. Just know it was in the service of the Lord. Some of the demons out there...they are stronger and more powerful than you could imagine.”

  Father turned away from her then, only to stumble, the weakness in his legs getting the better of him. He fell harshly to his knee, a grunt escaping him. She didn't go to his aid, she would not dishonour him in that fashion. It would have been a mercy for him to take his own life, but such an action was sacrilege except on rare occasions.

  Father left without saying another word. In two hours, there would be a knock at her door and Lucien would be there. They would spend several days together, exploring each other, learning what teenagers across the world were often so eager to engage in. There would be no need for Lucien to wear protection, for all those entering Inquisitor training were sterilised at a relatively young age.

  There were no virgins in the Inquisitor ranks. But once they graduated, they would remain celibate for the rest of their lives.

  9.

  Las Vegas, USA

  Kane had expected better from this city. It had a reputation for decadence and debauchery, but Kane was less than impressed by what he saw. This was no modern version of Sodom and Gomorrah; it was merely an ordered means to extract money from the gullible and the desperate. It didn’t matter. By the time Horn was through with the world, the city would likely be an abandoned ruin anyway.

  It was a shame though. Such promise and potential squandered. Humans had a lot to learn. Horn and those trapped in the Pit would soon teach them.

  He didn’t plan to stay long, even though the hot desert air was enticing. It wasn’t enough to satiate him, for unlike most demons, Kane did not enjoy this world. If he’d had a choice, he would have preferred to be back servicing the tortured souls of Hell. He wasn’t one of the great kings or princes, but he still had status and a position of importance there. He was feared and respected for the anguish he was able to inflict on demons and cast down souls alike. All that was on hold whilst the apocalypse unfolded.

  The thing that made it worthwhile to him were the billions of fresh minds he would be able to torture for the rest of his existence.

  As important as his job was here on Earth, Kane felt his talents were wasted. There was a void in his being that wasn’t being filled. He was the chief torturer of Hell, his hands marked the damned with the eternal suffering they were worthy of. Here he was lucky to be given the scraps of the failed experiments Horn’s mega-corporation produced. It wasn’t enough and it wasn’t the same, because there was a limit to what the frail human body could endure before it failed. In the Pit he could perform surgical horrors safe in the knowledge the flesh he worked on would magically repair itself. There, he could burn, flail, amputate and rip the organs slowly from his screaming victims for all eternity. He never tired of it.

  Try that here and the fun would be over far too quickly.

  He had no option but to be here though. Satan himself had given the order, deeming him worthy of the protection he could offer the chosen son, the one who would bring it all to an end. Kane was Satan’s plaything, and he despised his lack of choice. Another reason to loathe humanity. They had been granted free will, the ability to choose their fates, and yet all they did was squander it. They blamed God for their woes, but it had always been within their power to turn this planet into the nirvana they so craved. Instead they were corrupted and weak, barely a righteous being amongst them. The manipulation of Hell was a tiny fragment of the evil stalking the planet. At least till now. With the seals breaking, humanity was rife for the plundering.

  In the hotel lobby, he looked around the gathered humans. Like any demon, he despised God’s favoured creatures, felt tainted by their presence. Part of that stemmed from jealousy, for Kane had no freedom in his life. Although he had a modicum of free thought, he had no liberty in his destiny. Unlike humans. They could, to a degree, forge their own path and create what they thought was a wondrous life for themselves. Or they could crash and burn, descending into a spiral of despair and self-destruction.

  But most of all, the reason he detested humanity was down to the fact it was what demons were made for. Their whole purpose was to somehow rip and tear their way through the barrier between realms, and once here, create as much carnage as possible. Kane would have preferred that, to spend his days desecrating the most vulnerable, devastating the minds of those who thought themselves so noble.

  He didn’t have that luxury. Here he was a glorified bodyguard to a human who would rise to be an emperor, but who in the Pit wouldn’t be worthy enough to lick clean his knives. Kane’s patience had limits.

  Kane wanted nothing more than to take out his gun and kill as many of these hapless souls as he could. He resisted that temptation though, because that would be a failure on his part, and Satan was not one to accept such failure. The owners of Hell would not thank him for such an act, and instead of being the torturer he would find himself the tortured upon his return.

  “Mr Kane?” The voice dragged him out of his self-hypnosis and he turned. The woman was highly attractive, but then she would have had to be. The man Kane was here to meet only ever surrounded himself with the loveliest of his female followers.

  Kane instantly knew a lot about this woman, despite never having met her before. She was weak-willed, pliable and gullible. She needed someone to follow, and she would be compliant to the demands made of her by the man she worshipped. She had no doubt been abused either physically or psychologically as a child, and had attempted suicide at least once. There was a history of addiction lurking in her as well. Kane saw things most people weren’t aware of.

  He held the woman in his withering stare and the saccharine smile she wore faltered slightly. Finally, he nodded.

  “I’m Kacey.” Kacey held out a hand, but Kane didn’t take it.

  “That’s nice for you.” Her hand wavered, and she retracted it.

  “Jonah is expecting you. If you would follow me.” Jonah Forge, guru, conman, and self-proclaimed prophet of the Lord. A man with refined sexual tastes, narcissist and definite sociopath. Kane nodded again, allowing the woman to lead him through the hotel lobby to the elevators. Kane was sure his guide was putting an extra swing in her hips, but it did nothing for him. Sex was a thing for pathetic primates, and Kane had never had any desire for such earthly pleasures. He’d rather take his knife to Kacey’s flesh than waste his time inside her, and he would have liked to do it here in front of the dozens of admiring spectators who watched as Kacey passed. Humanity put too much importance on the sexual act. It was a brief, often disappointing pause in the monotony of their meaningless existence.

  When the gates finally opened when the seals broke, maybe then Kane would be allowed free rein to unleash his art upon the world. He had a brief flash, a yearning for the torture camps he would one day oversee. A place for millions to see a glimpse of the true horrors that awaited them upon their deaths. He would control their agony in this world and the next.

  “How long have you been with Jonah?” he asked.

  “I am blessed to have been in his presence for nearly a year now.”

  They came to the elevators, and Kacey pushed the button with her manicured finger, a slight tremble in her hands. Kane often had this effect on people, his aura exquisitely intimidating. He could imagine the conversation Kacey would have had with the cult leader before coming down here.

  “How will I recognise him?” she would have asked.

  “Easy. Lucas Kane will be the one who looks like he wants to cut your heart out.”

  “Has he made you one of his own yet?” She seemed to redden at the question, not expecting such bluntness. Jonah was renowned for bedding as many of his female followers as he could. And men also, rumour had it. What human could resist such desires when given a position of such immense power?

  His escor
t seemed to hesitate in her answer, finally coming up with what she hoped was the appropriate response.

  “He has blessed me with his divine love.”

  “How fortunate for you.” Kane hid the sarcasm that could have exploded into his words, and Kacey seemed to brighten. Jonah didn’t pick them for their intelligence. She was lucky that Jonah had no interest in siring children, her idol having undergone voluntary sterilisation at a younger age.

  The elevator arrived, Kane stepping in after her. Moving to the back, he gave Kacey the space she needed to mitigate her growing discomfort. There was no point tormenting the bitch, not without the ability to follow through into the realm of more physical agonies. He wasn’t here for that, Horn using him as a delivery boy. That was what the case Kane was carrying was for. It was stuffed with one hundred-dollar bills. Neither Horn nor Jonah wanted any kind of electronic money trail to link the two together. Not with what Jonah would unwittingly be asked to do.

  As the elevator rose slowly to the penthouse level, Kane kept his eyes firmly on the back of Kacey’s neck. She shifted awkwardly, sensing that he was looking at her. Was she familiar with his reputation? Did she know she was in a small metal box with a violent killer? Jonah was sadistic enough to have told her.

  Ah, the damage he could inflict on her in these few precious seconds.

  When the lift finally stopped and the door opened, there was an audible sigh of relief as Kacey stepped out, Kane close behind. The hallway was opulent, the smell of incense filling the air. There were three penthouses on this particular level, and Horn’s money was paying for all three of them. Hell, he owned the bloody hotel, although even the most in-depth forensic accounting would never be able to prove that.

  “Please follow me,” Kacey ordered, although Kane knew the last thing she wanted was to be in his presence a moment longer than she needed to be. She seemed loyal though, sucked into the web of lies that Jonah had spun to justify his following. How far would she go to prove her loyalty? Kacey would likely go a long way, stripping any semblance of morality and reserve from her thoughts in an attempt to justify her compliance to the one she followed.

  I think a test is in order.

  There was a reason Horn had picked Jonah to be the star of what was coming. He might well have been the lowest of the low, but Jonah had a particular gift for oratory allowing him to entrance a crowd. In addition, Jonah, as with many sociopaths, was a true master at manipulating people. He had yet to fulfil his true potential.

  Horn would help with that.

  Jonah had transformed from small time swindler to small time cult leader, only for Horn to take a delicious interest. That interest came with money and power, which was why Jonah was an up and coming religious leader with his own growing ministry. Jonah had the looks and the personality, and Horn had the ability to make the man a star. The rising prophet was now filling whole stadiums of gullible people who came to hear the religious lies Jonah would unleash upon them.

  Such a man was useful to the one who would change the whole world.

  At the end of the corridor, two large men stood guard at the entrance to the occupied penthouse suite. This luxury accommodation was a step up from where Jonah had started as a child on the carnival circuit. Kane wasn’t interested in Jonah’s rise to riches or his life story. He was here to deliver the money and the message that would ultimately change the destiny of humanity. So far, Jonah viewed Horn as a benevolent benefactor, something that was shortly about to change. When you made a deal with the Devil’s son, eventually you had to pay your dues.

  One of the guards stepped in front of the door, blocking Kane’s path. Kane had killed people for less.

  “Is there a problem?” Kane asked. He looked at Kacey who stood there sheepishly.

  “I need to frisk you,” the guard insisted. He was about the same height as Kane, but the t-shirt he wore bulged with steroid-infused bulk.

  “I don’t think…” Kacey attempted, only to be interrupted.

  “Shut your mouth, Kacey. Nobody cares what you think.” The other guard watched on, amused by the proceedings.

  “Do you value your fingers?” Kane asked. He placed the case on the floor, letting his hands drop passively to his sides. Let the idiot relish his feeling of power.

  “Say what?” The guard was obviously less intelligent than Kacey.

  “Your fingers. Are they important to you?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” The guard pushed forward in an attempt to intimidate Kane. It didn’t work.

  “If you touch me, I will rip them off and stick them up Kacey’s pussy.” His head turned to Kacey. “Would you like that, dear? Would you like to feel this meathead’s loving caress?”

  Kacey didn’t have an answer to that, although she visibly blanched.

  “You don’t get to talk to me like that,” the guard insisted. Jonah should have warned him who Kane was, but then Jonah didn’t really know. Not yet.

  “But I just have. Do you even know why I am here?”

  “I don’t care. Nobody gets to see Jonah without being checked.”

  “Why?” Kane demanded.

  “Because I said so, numbnuts.”

  “Well why didn’t you say?” Kane held his arms out compliantly. The guard came in, running his hands over the suit Kane wore. It was abhorrent to have this man’s hands on him, and as the guard bent down to pat his legs, Kane suddenly grabbed the man’s head by both ears. Bent over like that, the guard was completely vulnerable.

  It takes eight pounds of pressure to rip off a human ear. Kane took both, the guard collapsing to the floor with a roar, his hands clamped over the spurting wounds. To add to the injury, Kane rammed his boot down on the back of the felled man’s neck. It was enough pressure to keep him down.

  “Oh my God,” Kacey exclaimed. Kane turned to her, transferring both ears to one clutching fist.

  “Hold out your hands, dear,” Kane ordered. Despite herself, the hands came up, and Kane dropped the two bleeding ears into her shaking palms. “What about you?” he said to the second guard. “Are you going to give me any shit?” There was no fight in this man, just cowardice now that he had witnessed what Kane was capable of. Like his friend, the second guard had been chosen for his ability to intimidate rather than any actual prowess at combat.

  A hand suddenly grabbed Kane’s leg, the first guard trying to pull himself up through the pain. Kane almost killed the man then. It would have been so easy to press down harder with his foot, or even more satisfying, to bend forward and ram both thumbs into the fool’s eyes. But Kane was in no rush.

  With what Kane intended to do, it would be better to do it inside the bedroom suite where there were surfaces easier to clean.

  Instead Kane grabbed the guard’s wrist and, with a twist, broke it. If there had been other guests on this floor, the proclamation of agony that followed would have dragged them from their rooms. As it was, only one door opened, Jonah standing in the doorway in stunned amusement.

  “Peter,” Jonah said. “What on earth are you doing on the floor?”

  ***

  Jonah looked the part. He was athletic with a handsome face and a well-trimmed beard. His hair had been purposefully grown long to give him the “Jesus look” that worked so well for his role. He was smart too, knowing what to say and when to say it. With his speaking skills he could captivate a crowd. Whereas once he was limited to small groups as he built his cult followers around him, Horn’s money allowed Jonah to speak before thousands.

  On a good day, he could persuade you to sell your own grandmother to him.

  They had retreated into the penthouse, Jonah sitting on the plush leather sofa that marked the centre of the living area. Kacey sat next to him, seemingly grateful to have Jonah’s roaming hands all over her, although she still looked shocked by the violence. The ears had quickly been discarded.

  Kane knew Jonah’s type well; had tortured thousands of them in the Pit. Jonah would use the women around him, sl
owly abusing and breaking them before casting what was left aside for the next hapless victim. The ranks of his cult were filled with those like Kacey, each trying to gain his favour with the hope of breaking the pattern. Kacey, like so many others, wanted to be the one, the woman to finally ensnare the man with the power. They didn’t understand that Jonah had no intention of being trapped. He was a hunter who would one day take his games too far.

  The power the cult leader held was an illusion, bought and paid for. Jonah only had words and fake promises. He had no true insight into the nature of Heaven. Despite that, there were tens of thousands who lapped up his words. When Horn was done, millions of people would worship this man, fools that they were.

  Horn was owed a debt by this man and Kane was here to ensure the price required would be delivered.

  Kane refused to sit, instead standing by a marble and glass table that was worth more than most hotel rooms cost to furnish. On the table rested the case Kane had brought, and he opened it now, extracting pristine wads of cash. One by one Kane placed them on the table, Jonah’s eyes lighting up as each was laid down. When the case was half empty, Kane stopped and closed it.

  “I was promised more,” Jonah insisted. Horn had been funding the man for nearly two years now, all for the purpose that had yet to be explained to the cult leader.

  “You will get your money,” Kane insisted. He noted with genuine curiosity that Jonah did not fear him. It wasn’t that there was no outward display of anxiety which no man could hide from Kane. There was a genuine lack of concern, despite what Kane had done to the bodyguard. No matter, that fear would come, for Jonah had yet to be shown the reality of what Kane was. That would happen today, the cult leader would be witness to a secret most people would be killed for. “I need something from you first.”

  “You have a prophet’s undying attention. What more could you desire?”

  “Enough of your games,” Kane ordered. “You are no more a prophet than I am.” Kacey seemed to absorb the words, but she clearly rejected them.