by Michael Todd
The young man smirked. “Right. Sorry. Forgot I’m the only one in the world who finds this stuff interesting.”
Damian sat in one of the chairs. “You and the other weathermen of the world, spray-on hair and all.”
Max laughed. “So, what did your friend need that forced you to come all the way out here?”
He looked down at his hands rather than meet his companion’s gaze. “He had a crisis of conscience. We tend to call on each other when being a priest becomes difficult. It’s much better to talk it over in person.” His companion didn’t question him, and Damian was relieved. “Our train doesn’t depart until tomorrow evening. I thought we would be here longer, but it seems not. Is there anything specific you want to do while we’re in Rome? I know the riveting information on the weather channel has pulled you in, but I figured I would ask.”
The trainee turned and put his feet on the floor. “Actually, yeah. I’d really like to do some sightseeing. You know, the normal tourist stuff? I’ve never been to Rome before.”
Damian tossed him his windbreaker from the chair beside him. “What does the weather say?”
Max smiled cheerfully. “Bright and sunny all day.”
Damian stood and clapped his hands. “Then let’s do this. I know all the spots, and I can enlighten you on some lesser-known facts about them.”
“Sweet. Let’s roll.”
The two headed outside and grabbed a cab, and the priest instructed the driver to take them to the Colosseum. As they left the cab, the young man’s eyes grew big, and he stared up at the structure as he spouted facts. “The Colosseum is an elliptical building measuring 189 meters long and 156 meters wide. It has a base area of twenty-four thousand meters squared, with a height of more than forty-eight meters. It’s an impressive structure, especially since it was built so long ago. It seats around fifty thousand spectators and has thirty-six trap doors for special effects.”
Damian walked up to the gate and bought two tickets. “Thank you.”
Once inside, he turned to Max. “How do you remember all that information?”
Max shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I simply do. I retain almost everything I read. I’ve been like that my whole life and can picture every word I’ve ever read, at least when it comes to stuff I’m interested in.”
The older priest was impressed. “Well, let me enlighten you about a few facts I’m positive you haven’t read in a book anywhere. The builder of the Colosseum, Vespasian, was actually a fallen angel. He was still very loyal to God, but he craved a human life.”
Max’s face went serious. “Really?”
Damian nodded as they walked along. “Mhmm. Many of the gladiatorial combats later on in his life were, unbeknownst to him, fought against demons in both human and animal form.”
The trainee’s mouth dropped open. “Things make a little more sense, knowing that.”
They walked into the main area, and Damian pointed to the top rows. “The back row was covered by a velarium. They said it was to block the heat, but in reality, it was to cover the angels who snuck down to see the shows with Vespasian. Right beneath our feet in the maze of tunnels is a room that was once dedicated to the demons to call for power from their master. Of course, Vespasian didn’t know this. It was something his son and successor, Titus, created to calm them and ensure their loyalty in the ring. He wanted to be able to control them.”
Max shook his head in amazement. “Right, so if the crowd voted to not slay the fighter, he could stop the demon from doing it anyway. And the whole time, his father was still kicking it with angels and saying his bedtime prayers. That is nuts.”
Damian touched a piece of the stone. “It is. Not only that, God knew what he was doing the whole time—or at least, that was the account. He let Titus dig his own grave, knowing He couldn’t step in against free will in any way. If He had let Vespasian know, He would have been breaking His own rules. Titus thought he was doing the smart thing, but actually, it was very dangerous.”
They walked around for about an hour, the priest stepping back now and then so the younger man could take pictures with his phone. The kid was absolutely mesmerized. He enjoyed seeing him do something he wanted to do. Max was a good guy and was getting better at facing demons every day.
When they were done, they took a cab over to the Arch of Titus near the Colosseum. Max was spellbound once again. “Do you see the battles etched into the base? That is the sack of Jerusalem, when the city was destroyed. And there, the inscription reads, Senatus populusque romanus divo Tito divi Vespasiani f Vespasiano Augusto. In English, that translates to ‘the Senate and People of Rome, to Divus Titus, son of Divus Vespasian, Vespasian Augustus.’”
Damian rubbed his chin as he wracked his brain. “Divus… Divus…what does that mean?”
Max looked proud to know the answer. “That means it was written after the death of Titus, and long after the death of Vespasian. If you look on the south panel, it shows Titus’ triumphal march as it passed through the Porta Triumphalis bearing the spoils of Solomon’s Temple. The other side is the same. You can see the menorah, the candelabra, and the oldest symbol of the Jewish faith.”
Damian looked at the arch and grinned. “Are you ready for my information?” The trainee turned, his excitement palpable. “This arch was built over the top of a cult shrine to the devil. The church tried to have it removed on several occasions, but the souls surrounding it rose up in protection. Finally, exhausted from always fighting, one of the cultists infiltrated the church and had the Arch of Titus built over it. It was a distraction, and gave those who still worshipped a place to do so without repercussions for their faith.”
Max’s mouth twitched. “So, you’re saying this isn’t an actual ode to Titus?”
He wasn’t sure. “I guess if you think about it, the Satanic community paid homage to Titus even though that wasn’t what he wanted. They looked at him as an ally because of the way he treated the demons in the Colosseum, so yes and no. Now, though, the cultists and infected come here to feel closer to hell’s gates.”
Damian nodded toward a couple of tourists standing near the wall of the Arch. Their eyes were red, and they whispered something at the wall and stroked it with their hands. Max turned the other way, identifying more demons. Suddenly, they both realized that everyone around them had red eyes.
The trainee moved close to him. “I think there might be too many of them here to start a public issue.”
He sighed. “I think you’re right. The best thing for us to do now is simply slowly back away.”
They walked slowly toward a place where Damian knew they could find a cab, trying not to look suspicious. There were too many demons, and the space was wide open. Damian made a mental note to send a merc team out there later. There were too many red eyes to look the other way.
A few blocks over, they found a cab and got out a short while later in front of a small deli and café. Once inside, Damian ordered for them both since the trainee knew zero Italian. “Entrambi avremo il pastrami su segale con un lato delle tue fiche. Oh, e due bottiglie d’acqua. Grazie.”
They sat at the window and waited for their food. Max smiled as a family walked past with their two young kids. “We used to take at least one summer vacation every year when I was growing up. It wasn’t anything fancy. When we lived on this side of the pond, it was to see the English countryside and go to cool restaurants. When we moved to the States, though, there was a lot more to do. As a kid, I thought it was awesome. Now that I’m a little older, I realize we did all the tacky cliché vacations that everyone else does.”
“Like what?” Damian wiped his mouth.
He rolled his eyes. “We went to Roswell and the tiny museum on the side of the road. We took beach trips and went to South of the Border on the way to South Carolina. We went to Glacier National Park once, and the rest were beach and ocean. I think it was because it was relaxing for my mom too.”
The older priest smiled. “I never had
that chance, being an orphan. I think it’s as important to see the tacky as it is to see the profound.”
Max looked out the window. “I always wanted to come to Rome, and see other parts of Italy, too. I simply wanted to take everything in—see the beauty in the place. Oh, can we go to the Vatican next? I’ve always wanted to see it with my own eyes. I’ve only ever seen it in books and movies.”
Damian cleared his throat, careful to keep his expression neutral. “It’s extremely packed today because there’s some kind of event. I think that if we tour the Vatican, we should have all day to do it. We will make another trip out here and can schedule it then. How about we go check out the Forum? It’s a popular destination.”
The young man looked disappointed at first but perked up after a minute or two. He launched into a recital of facts on the Forum. “The excavations to clear the Roman Forum took over a hundred years, and it wasn’t until the twentieth century that it was completed.”
Damian smiled and shook his head. He was simply glad that Max had accepted his excuse without rancor.
I swear, for a priest, you are like a master manipulator. Ravi laughed maniacally.
Hey, I can’t have the kid watch me get arrested by Vatican Police. Not really my idea of a good ending to the trip.
Ravi sighed and finished with a giggle. I find it funny that I’m the good influence here.
Chapter Three
The Forum was enjoyable, but Max was dying to see Pompeii, so they found one of the tourist buses and made the journey to view the grounds, Damian napping the whole way. When they arrived, they fell in behind the tour guide. The trainee was completely entranced by the cobblestone streets, the remains of the stone people, and the buildings all along the base of Mount Vesuvius.
He looked at his mentor, his eyes wide and bright. “The people who lived here had no idea Vesuvius was a volcano. They didn’t discover the city or its remains until 1740-something. No one realized that these people were buried alive by volcanic ash. It’s an insane thought. Nowadays, if a celebrity sneezes, we know about it in three seconds flat.”
Damian chuckled and glanced at the tour guide. He grabbed Max’s arm and pulled him away from the tour and down one of the cobblestone paths. “Do you want to know the alternate history?”
His mouth dropped open. “For this too? Cheese and Rice!”
The priest lifted an eyebrow at Max. “What?”
Max shrugged. “My way around cussing. I’ll simply say random things from now on.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, the truth is, the reason the volcano became active after eighteen hundred years was that a gate opened at the base of it. The sheer power of the gate and the flood of demons coming out of it triggered the activity and blew the damn thing sky high. The people didn’t die from demons, specifically, but they died from the volcano erupting due to demons.”
The younger man was perplexed. He scratched his head and looked more closely at the scene. In silence, he walked ahead and studied deep gashes in the buildings. Were those from demons? As he turned the corner, he stopped and stared at an etching on the wall. Frowning, he stepped closer and rubbed his hand across the faint symbol.
He had been given a guide to demonology when he was in school. In it was a chart of all the symbols used over time to signify the devil, the cults, and the demon incursions. The leaders of the incursions—Damned humans or large demons like Moloch—often etched their symbol wherever they attacked. Max closed his eyes and flipped through the images of the symbols in his head. Near the end of the slideshow in his mind, he stopped, opened his eyes, and focused on the same symbol on the wall.
Stunned, he stepped back and shook his head, whispering, “No shit.”
Damian’s voice echoed from around the corner. “Ah ha! Language!” Max groaned and put his head back as the priest appeared and wagged his finger. “You can’t hide from me, young student.”
He ignored him, still staring at the symbol. “That is from the cultist collection of symbols.”
His mentor examined it carefully. “Sure is, and it was definitely not etched recently.”
They walked out onto the cobblestone streets and meandered through the visitors’ area. Damian put his hands in his coat pockets, surprised they hadn’t taught any of the information he had to trainees. “You know, there are a whole slew of historical events that didn’t happen the way you think.”
Max glanced at him, openly curious. “Like what?”
Damian wrinkled his nose and wondered where to start. “Well, the most obvious is Hitler’s reign in Germany. You can see the precise moment in history that his evil went from The Count to Freddy Krueger. He was Damned, and the demon was talented enough to take over his mind and his soul while keeping his body intact. He ruled those people and killed the Jewish population to gain followers. In reality, the demon inside him didn’t care who lived or died. When Hitler died, it was believed that his girlfriend Eva Braun revealed herself as an angel and took his life with the Golden Sword.”
The young man looked at him in amazement. “No sh—shitake mushrooms? What else?”
The priest flashed him a side glance but hid his amusement and continued, “There is Stalin, too. It’s rumored that Satan’s right-hand demon at the time was in fact inside Stalin, carrying out Lucifer’s wishes. In the end, he killed over six million people between mass executions, his concentration camps, and starving people to death. Even in the fifties, he was still killing Jewish people. The demon was eventually called back and left Stalin in a puddle of his own vomit.”
Max shook his head. “I guess none of that really surprises me.”
Damian chuckled. “Then there was the Byzantine emperor around 565, Justin II. Apparently, our good friend Moloch had come to this side and taken over his body to see what all the hype was about. He was so powerful he damaged the human, so he had servants push him around in a wheelchair, and would kill those he didn’t like and have them for dinner. Apparently, he had the human chef roast them like pigs and present them at the table. He didn’t like human food and wanted to feel as if he were at home. There hasn’t been another instance of Moloch taking a human body since. He merely comes out in his own form.”
The young man grimaced. “Wow. How did they not stop the madman? And that chef! How do you even roast an entire human body? Never mind, I don’t want to know. It sounds horrible.”
Damian sighed. “There have been more demon incidents in history than not. It gives me a pinch of faith in humanity. Some aren’t vicious but can be entertaining—like Charles the VI, who thought he was either a wolf or made of glass. Sometimes when these demons take over they aren’t able to fully take hold, and they fry the human’s brains. It’s rather like driving a robot with no idea where you are going.”
Max looked like he might puke. “I don’t understand any of it. What about in today’s society? I mean, are any of these dictators infected?”
The priest shrugged. “I don’t know. Ever since Incursion Day, most have retreated and are hiding out. They won’t let you close enough to figure that out. I’m sure there is some sort of connection, but then again, you must remember there are some very screwed-up people in this world, Max. Just because they are evil doesn’t mean they have a demon inside them. We should be careful not to dismiss sin when we see it in others. Most likely, even without their demons, Stalin, Hitler, Justin, and Charles would still have been evil people. Many times, when someone has that predilection, the demon merely allows them to manifest the worst they already have in them with no fear. When a charismatic person is put in that position, they can do a lot of damage to the world.”
Max nodded. “I guess you’re right. I only wish that I could look at it and really see that we aren’t as bad as we seem, you know? I don’t like to lose faith in people.”
“I know.” Damian patted him on the back. “I hope that eventually, we can change those things. There will always be bad people, but by stopping the demons and this war, it will
help considerably.”
The trainee pointed to one of the last structures in the row near the back. “Let’s go in there.”
Damian followed him inside and looked at the pieces of pottery and carved stone tablets on the tables. In the back corner was a relic encased in glass. The plaque on the outside read, “Woman’s clay mask worn as a primitive beauty regimen. Donated by the Pompeii Society, to be kept on site.”
He wrinkled his forehead as he leaned forward to stare at the symbols on the mask. Placed in the center of the forehead was a red stone exactly like the one in the pictures Wally had given him. Small black crystal-like blotches floated within the stone, identical to what the cardinal had found. Symbols had been drawn on each of the cheeks as well.
The priest couldn’t believe the evidence of his eyes. How could something so old have the same stone as the one found in the cardinal’s room? What had the stones been used for? He couldn’t help but wonder if the structure they were in had been the home of whoever had opened the portal. If so, they had sacrificed their life and those of everyone else for some sinister purpose.
He glanced at Max, who was focused on reading the informational plaque beside a layer of bones on the other side of the room. Damian slipped the folded papers from his pocket and looked at the close-up picture of the stone and the case in which it had been found. Sure enough, the painted symbols on the outside of the case almost exactly matched the ones on the mask. They were identical in many ways.
Damian wanted answers. Ravi, does this stone or these symbols ring any bells with you?
She sighed. Besides the fact that it looks like the one in the picture? No. I have never seen anything like that before. There was a period of time in history when demons infused objects with power and gave them to their human followers to open portals and cause general chaos. Still, I have never heard of one actually doing more than setting off a small explosion or creating mayhem in a crowd of people.
