by Mark Carver
“Those people knew the risks,” Sophia interjected. “How could they think they could stand against God and not be punished?”
“It was not God who punished them, child,” Father DeMarco said wearily. “Satan sacrificed his own servants to continue this charade.”
“To what end?” Dr. Rosetta asked. “Why would he do this? Why not continue with the way things were? The church of Satan already controlled the Vatican and most of the world before all this happened. This only serves to weaken their order and gives us a chance to fight back. Why on earth would the devil give us that chance?”
A needle of pain began digging into the base of Father DeMarco’s skull. He clenched his teeth and struggled to control the pain that rose with his anger.
“Because that’s what he wants us to do! To fight! Look out the window. What are Christians doing? They’re burning and killing people in the streets! They’re fighting like animals! What do you think God feels as He looks down on us from heaven? I am ashamed of my church right now!”
“But what else can we do?” Dr. Rosetta said as he spread his massive arms in a gesture of resignation. “We have been murdered and tortured for years, and now we have the opportunity to overthrow our oppressors. If we simply lie down in the name of peace and kindness, we will be crushed, perhaps even worse than before. They have backed us into a corner, and we have no choice but to defend ourselves.”
Father DeMarco rubbed his brow in a futile effort to soothe the waves of nauseating pain. “I do not disagree with you there, my friend, but I do not accept that liar in the Vatican as a man of God. There is a time to love and a time to kill, and perhaps this is that time to kill, but he will lead us into darkness and ultimately, damnation. Fight if you must, but do not ally yourselves with him. This is the message that I must bring to God’s children, even if I die for it.”
“He’s right.”
Everyone turned to stare at Patric, who had been sitting quietly while the argument flared. The others had been speaking in Italian, but he understood enough to know what was being discussed. His eyes were fixed on a point on the floor, and he sat hunched over in his chair like a frail old man.
“What do you mean?” Dr. Rosetta asked.
Patric raised his head slowly and looked at the priest. “Father DeMarco is right. That man does not receive power from God.”
“And how do you know this? You are not a – “
Father DeMarco laid a firm hand on the doctor’s arm. “What are you saying, Patric?”
Patric took a deep breath and looked at each one of them. “I saw her too. The demon. While I was up there, on the cross, I saw her come down through the clouds. She wasn’t the Virgin Mother or an angel or anything like that. She was a demon. I’ve seen her before.”
Sophia gasped. Her father pulled her close to him, and Father DeMarco’s mouth fell open.
“Patric, you’ve seen this demon before?”
Patric nodded.
“Have you spoken with her?”
Patric licked his dry lips, then nodded again.
“She’s been torturing me ever since…for a long time. I don’t know what she wants or why she has chosen me, but it was her.”
Dr. Rosetta forced a sympathetic smile. “Patric, you were…you were nailed to a cross. You lost a lot of blood – you were weak. Your mind…you were probably – “
“I saw her!” Patric snapped. He leaped to his feet and glared at them with challenging eyes. “I remember every moment, and I see her face even now. Father DeMarco speaks the truth. I don’t know who that man is, but his power comes from Satan.”
Dr. Rosetta folded his arms across his broad belly. “And how do you feel about this? I would think that you would be happy, knowing that this Christian uprising is simply a farce perpetrated by the devil.”
Patric held the doctor’s gaze for a moment, then his eyes fell away. “I…I don’t know what I think…”
He looked up again and squared his jaw. “But I know that I was crucified and almost killed by the church of Satan. I may not share your faith, but I know which side I do not follow.”
Dr. Rosetta licked his teeth and looked down at his daughter, who simply shrugged. The air in the room was tense and thick. Patric couldn’t help the feeling that they were in a mental Mexican standoff, like in the old cowboy movies he had seen as a child. Everyone was sizing each other up, afraid to make the first move but ready to react.
Exhaling forcefully through his large nose, Dr. Rosetta broke the silence. “Look, all I know is that I want to be as far away from this madness as possible. In time, the truth must come out and our questions will be answered. But right now, it is not safe to be here. You heard him – in three days, he will convene an assembly of Christian leaders. Do you think this will make things better? Rome is going to be a war zone for the next several days, probably longer. Regardless of whether or not Signore Rossa Monte is of God or the devil, I do not want my daughter to be in any more danger. We must leave, Father, and we hope that you will come with us.”
His eyes darted over to Patric. “Both of you.”
Patric looked at Father DeMarco, who was clenching his eyes shut.
“Father?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
He touched the priest’s arm and was surprised to find that it was trembling with tension.
“Father?”
Father DeMarco’s eyes snapped open and he inhaled a long, deep breath. He turned to Patric and smiled weakly. “Yes, Patric, I’m all right. I’m an old man, and my age is quickly catching up to me.”
Patric nodded. Dr. Rosetta wore an expression of concern but said nothing.
Sophia reached out and touched the priest’s hand. “Please come with us, Father. You are not well. You will be safe with us.”
Father DeMarco smiled warmly. “Thank you, child. You have come to my aid not once, but twice. You truly are an angel, and I wish I could go with you…”
He turned his gaze towards the window, to the darkness that pulsed with the red glow of distant violence.
“…but I have work to do here. Signore Rossa Monte has called for the clergy to assemble at the Vatican, and this is a rare moment when I must assert my position of authority. I have to use this opportunity to denounce this charlatan and trust God to protect me.”
Patric placed a bandaged hand on his shoulder. “I will stay with you, Father.”
“Young man,” Dr. Rosetta said, “your injuries were serious. You need professional medical care or you could lose the use of your hands. Or worse.”
Patric stood up straight and looked the doctor in the eyes. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, for both of us. But Father DeMarco is right. That man inside the Vatican bows before a demon and he must be exposed. I do not care about Satanism or Christianity; I just want to see the poison of religion removed from this world.”
His eyes fell to the ground and his voice grew quiet. “And I have nothing else to fight for…”
Dr. Rosetta exchanged glances with Sophia. “All right, Signore Bourdon. I will give you some antibiotics, painkillers, and medicine and bandages to dress your wounds.”
He looked at Father DeMarco with pleading eyes. “I beg you, Father, please come with us. It cannot end well for you here.”
“I must remain,” Father DeMarco answered with a grateful smile. “Please pray for us. I would be lying if I told you that I am not afraid.”
Dr. Rosetta folded his hands and leaned forward. “We are all afraid, Father. And maybe that means you are right about him.”
****
Julian slumped wearily onto the throne of St. Peter and rubbed his aching brow. He felt the weight of the giant pentagram suspended above him but there was no way for it to be taken down just yet. There were still several remnants of blasphemous imagery through the Vatican, and Julian knew it would be quite some time before this holy place was truly cleansed.
He looked down at his right hand. The hand that had touched the forehead of tha
t police officer and caused it to explode, as if a shotgun cartridge had fired out of his palm. And the crazy thing was that he wasn’t surprised at all. It was as if he had expected it to happen, like he knew the miraculous power that flowed through him.
It was the same when he had darkened the sun. It felt natural. He shuddered to think what this could mean. Did he really possess miraculous power that he could call upon at any time? Was this what true faith was – believing that one could move mountains, and then actually carrying out the task as if it were a simple daily chore?
And what would happen if he lost his power, or his faith? Did the apostles ever doubt themselves as they traveled through the countryside, casting out demons and healing the sick?
Julian’s headache started to intensify. This was almost too terrifying to consider. On one hand, he was humbled and honored to be God’s chosen vessel through which He poured His power, but on the other hand, it was an incredible commitment and responsibility, not only to himself and to God, but to the world as well.
I am the leader of God’s church, he thought to himself, his eyes widening with awe. I am sitting on St. Peter’s throne in the heart of the Vatican...
And I’m hungry.
With a start, he realized that he hadn’t eaten or drank anything since the battle. There was probably no one besides him left in the Vatican, not counting the dead bodies that were scattered throughout the halls and corridors. The stench of death was beginning to overpower the light and life that this compound once represented.
With a weary sigh, Julian pushed himself to his feet and descended the stone steps that fanned out beneath the throne like a marble gown. He threw the chapel doors wide and stepped out into the expansive corridor. Two dead priests lay on the floor, crumbled within their robes like discarded laundry. Julian wrinkled his nose and walked in the other direction.
He remembered seeing the dining and kitchen chambers in the Vatican blueprints but he couldn’t orient himself for some reason. He stopped, turned, looked up, then left, then right. This was the Sala Reglia, he knew, but where...?
A creeping sense of dread crawled up his spine. Without warning, as if someone had turned off a light in his soul, he felt a heavy weight crash down upon him. His knees trembled and he collapsed to the floor. The great hall echoed with the faintest sounds and the shadows seemed to loom higher and higher like a tidal wave bearing down on the shore.
Julian didn’t know why, but he had never felt mortal dread like this before. He felt utterly alone, infinitely small, as weak and fragile as a gnat. The shadows seemed to grow deeper and darker, exuding a menace that he could almost smell.
A voice inside told him to stop groveling on the floor like a child, to get up and condemn the darkness. Did not God’s divine power flow through him?
He couldn’t rise. He could hardly move, and this bizarre paralysis frightened him even more than the sense of creeping evil that surrounded him. What was happening to him? His eyes whipped left and right, but he could see no one, hear nothing. He, the master of the sun, was lying helpless on the floor like a frightened child, and he had no idea why.
Do not fear the darkness, he commanded himself. The darkness always flees before the light.
His heartbeat seemed to pound like war drums in his ears. Gritting his teeth, Julian reached inside him to draw out the light that he knew his faith would provide.
He was stunned to find nothing.
A quiet sound behind him made him whip his head around. A dark shape pulled itself away from the shadows and walked towards him with slow, measured steps.
Julian’s eyes grew wide with fear, then a wave of relief warmed his skin.
“Father Shen!”
The shadows revealed just enough of Master Ko’s face for Julian to recognize him. The old man bowed reverently, but he did not approach any closer.
“Your Holiness,” he said.
Despite the man’s small stature, Julian felt like an ant cowering beneath him.
“How...how did you get in here?” He hadn’t remained outside long enough to observe the reaction to the rain of fire he had called down from the sky, but he imagined that the city was mobilizing any available forces to surround the Vatican and contain him inside. Which was fine with him; he had no intention of leaving any time soon, not until he knew where he would be leading God’s children.
Yet now he felt weak and frail, relieved to see the man who had been his rock and support in recent days, but also angry at himself for feeling such relief.
I am the master of the sun...
Master Ko tilted his face slightly upwards, hiding all but his eyes in shadow. “I know the Vatican very well. I was not always a cemetery watchman, you know.”
His eyes narrowed into dark creases beneath his eyebrows. “Why are you on the ground, Your Holiness?”
If Julian could have changed any moment in his life, it would have been that moment. The floodgates of his heart broke open and he wept. He wept like a grieving mother, like a heartbroken schoolboy. Like a man crushed under the weight of tremendous power.
Master Ko exhaled a silent sigh, then walked over and knelt down beside him.
“It’s all right, my son,” he said in his best comforting-priest voice. “It’s all right.”
Julian was struck by how salty his tears tasted as he opened his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry Father, I...I don’t know what’s come over me. I was just walking, and then I...I felt...”
“What did you feel?”
Julian shook his head, sniffing back the sobs that choked his words in his throat. “I don’t know...I felt the evil that has saturated this place for so long. And it frightened me, Father. I am ashamed, but it’s the truth. Before, I felt so strong, so tall, like a mighty tree that laughs at the wind. But all of a sudden, my weakness, my humanity crashed down on me, and I became afraid. The doubts that I have struggled with became so powerful that I could hardly stand.”
He looked up at Master Ko with pleading eyes. “Does this mean that my faith is weak, Father? That I’m not fit to lead as I thought I was?”
It was all Master Ko could do to keep from reaching out and squeezing Julian’s throat with his bony fingers. What was it about these Delusionals that made them so susceptible to doubt and hesitation? It was no wonder they were easily dominated and led astray.
Instead of throttling the wretch whimpering before him, Master Ko placed a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “I cannot imagine what you are feeling, but I know that you are able to face any challenge the world or the devil throws in your path. Your faith is tremendous, but everyone experiences moments of weakness. Especially the great ones.”
Julian looked up at him with grateful eyes. “I’m really glad to see you, Father. I really don’t know what happened, but I know it was the devil striking at my heart. I feel so overwhelmed by everything. Here I am, in the Vatican. The only person in the Vatican, or the only one who is alive anyway. And I have no idea what I am supposed to do next. I want to hear God’s voice, but somehow, I feel like He is waiting in the wings, watching me. I didn’t think it would be like this – I thought that He would converse with me as He did with Adam in the garden. Why does He keep His voice from me, Father?”
Master Ko swallowed dryly, then quickly offered a short smile. “God is here, Your Holiness. God is always at our side, no matter what our mood or feeling is like at a given moment. God is always constant; it is we who are changeable and vacillating. Usually the reason we cannot hear Him is because we are making too much noise in our own life. We must be still and wait for Him, rather than rushing down the first available path and expect to hear Him as we run blindly.”
Julian was quiet for a moment, then pulled himself to his feet. He stared at Master Ko with sharp eyes that no longer shimmered with weakness.
“Thank you, Father. You are right – the past twenty-four hours have been chaotic, even insane. I still cannot believe what happened out there. I feel like a different person.”
&n
bsp; The shadows hid the sly smile that curled Master Ko’s lips. “Indeed you are, Your Holiness. You have become the anointed one among God’s vessels to lead His children into glory.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really believe that, father? I mean, it is incredible what I have done, but does that mean I am the one to lead God’s church? Blotting out the sun and calling down fire from the sky does not necessarily make me qualified to be the new pope of Rome.”
Master Ko’s soul screamed with frustration. One more remark like this and I’m going to strangle this idiotic whelp. Her grand scheme be damned.
“Your Holiness,” he said with a soft, yet firm, measured voice. “Julian, my son, listen carefully. It does not matter who or what you think you are. What matters is what God knows you to be. For reasons that we may never know, God has seen fit to bestow upon you power that has not been witnessed since Jesus Christ walked the earth. If God has granted you such gifts, He has certainly done so with good reason. To doubt yourself is to doubt God.”
Julian sucked in his breath. “I never thought of it like that, Father. You’re right… No more questions; I will simply follow where God leads. And I hope that you can help me hear His voice more clearly.”
Master Ko bowed humbly. “I will do what I can, Your Holiness.”
Julian drew himself to his full height. “And I want you by my side when the church leaders arrive. Right now you are the only one I trust.”
Despite his stoic expression, Master Ko was beaming. I knew you would...
“It would be my honor, Your Holiness,” he stated with just enough warmth to show that he appreciated Julian’s confidence in him.
Julian’s cheek pulled left with a cocked smile. “You know, it’s strange. I hardly know anything about you, except that you are from Hong Kong and were a child prodigy with the flute.”
A cold sensation crept through the elder’s skin. “As I said, I was not always a guardian of tombs and gravestones. I have a wealth of experiences that I believe would be beneficial to Your Holiness.”
