by Athanasios
A metallic thunk sound followed the grinding of gears and sharp stakes sprung five feet out of the four walls, spaced every two feet from the ground, all the way up to the ceiling. When Kosta had installed it, three years after they moved to Digby, Adam dubbed it a reverse steel porcupine. Screams ensued and Kosta couldn’t tell how many men the telescoping stakes had impaled. He edged forward on elbows and hips, methodically checking each to ensure they were dead. These men had for a paycheck, and Kosta respected them enough to provide a quick death.
At the sound of footsteps, Kosta returned to his hiding place and retracted the spikes into their telescopic housings. There were six thuds as the impaled bodies dropped from the deadly pegs. He turned to Adam, ignoring a shoulder wound he got from one of the men just shot. Adam’s eyes showed concern, but he didn’t say anything.
Kosta saw the worry and dismissed it with words that would stay with Adam for the rest of his life. “Life is pain and trouble, Adam. We find out how much it’s worth when we endure it. I don’t know how this will end. I’ll sell my life for you, but remember, if it comes to it and you have to sell your life well, ayori mou — my boy: show them how precious it is. Make them pay for every breath and every second they try to steal.”
He motioned for Adam to get up as he stooped over Mordecai. Somehow, the pathetic snake had survived the reverse steel porcupine. The barrel of the shotgun nudged his forehead up and he slowly stood in obedience to the barrel’s ascent. Kosta didn’t waste time with philosophical discussions. He only wanted to know how many more men there were.
“Enough,” Albert Pike responded as he entered the room. Three shots knocked the Winchester from Kosta’s hands, spun him around and dropped him to the ground with a useless left leg.
Adam screamed and rushed to catch him and keep Pike from shooting again. The Darkness in Adam growled at Pike who stopped. It scowled an order to drop the gun and join Mordecai on the ground, which only made Pike laugh. The dandy reached into his pocket and removed a custom tobacco stick from a priceless cigarette case, as though he had all the time in the world.
“Your majesty I do not conform to your wishes like my colleagues, the Luciferians. I have a similar lineage to the Nephilim, and with all due respect, I have my own orders, which do not include obeying yours.” He lit the cigarette and addressed Kosta. “I must congratulate you, Kostadino. You’ve been entered into our chronicles as the most rebellious of our members. You are the Antiweishaupt. It is a shame you have to die. I’m in awe of your deception and audacity to kidnap the Antichrist from under Satan’s nose.” He shook his head at the thought.
Kosta, who had been silent until then, finally answered. “The Architects of the Great Work know why I did this,” Kosta stated succinctly. “Adam doesn’t deserve the blame for the end of the world. Now he can make his own choices without following a path determined by human fantasy.”
“Human fantasy, imagination, novelty, it’s all been done, Kosta. All our gods and devils are a rehashing of forgotten terrors and delights. We salvage and reconstruct past deities to accommodate our own unique beliefs.” Pike let the cigarette dangle from his lips as he pulled the slide-group of his pistol back, filling the chamber. “I’ll tell the Builders your answer.”
“Mr. Pike, drop the weapon and step back.” A voice, and several hammer clicks, halted his motions.
“Mr. Russell, I was wondering when the Templars would get here.” Pike was not surprised but raised his hands all the same. “I almost thought we would have to do this without you.”
Pike turned, and everyone still alive in the house, watched as armed priests filled the door and filed in. Mordecai looked like he would fall dead from surprise. Paul Russell and Brian Caldwell led five Templars, apprehending Adam and addressing him directly.
“Sir, your uh, Lordship, we’re here to take you with us,” Caldwell stumbled. The accompanying clergymen carried mostly pistols, but a few had new Israeli uzis. The Romans had the best equipment money could buy. The Dark Nobility, and their fallen twenty hired professionals, came with their own equipment.
“I’m not going,” Adam replied. His refusal made no sense; Kosta was in no condition to do anything and Adam was still a child.
At this point, Mordecai’s face contorted and he began to implode. The being who now pulled his lips back, lengthening and expanding his teeth, gave hushed guttural assurances. Mordecai saw this happen years before and now felt the painful effects himself. The violator soothed Mordecai, stating he was a good cow, a good pet, and apologized that this had to be done so that the Messiah could live.
In minutes, Adam knew who possessed Mordecai. It meant nothing to him, or to the Templars, who nodded to one of the men with an uzi. He opened fire and riddled Mordecai with holes, his body dancing to the rhythm of the bullets, until he dropped to the ground, dead.
The Templar who shot Mordecai began to transform, but maintained enough control to drink a bottle of holy water, while his brother knights doused him with the same. His violator screamed and brought the Templar to his knees, glaring at Adam before it left. The Darkness glared back, undaunted.
“That’s some nasty stuff.” Pike dropped his gun and waited for an opening amidst all the pandemonium. He watched Masons and Templars while wondering if they were the allies they seemed to be. “Mr. Russell, Mr. Caldwell, did Grand Master Bernhardt inform you of the importance of this assignment?”
Nobody answered yet Russell and Caldwell looked nervous. Pike had seen these two at various Brotherhood ceremonies. They did not belong with the Templars and Pike wondered why they were leading them on this very delicate mission.
“What are two Master Freemasons doing leading Christ’s soldiers? Gentlemen, whatever you might think of me, you must also know you’re being led by men with whom I have associated.” Pike saw this argument made an impact on the hardy Templars, who kept glancing at a Templar on the far right, marking him as the ranking seneschal.
“You, sir, did the Grand Master give you orders directly?” Pike addressed a middle-aged wiry knight who stared suspiciously at him, but said nothing. “If he didn’t tell you what to do, from whom are you getting your orders? Surely not these two,” Pike indicated the nervous Masons, who finally replied.
“Grand Master Hapsburg, himself, planned this mission and we come with the authority of Pope Paul VI,” Caldwell declared.
“Where does Seneschal Quentin figure into all of this? Why isn’t he leading this expedition?” For the past decade, Pike had been stumbling across the names of Quentin and Lancaster Martin, and was surprised they hadn’t joined the Templars. “He’s been field commander for years and now he’s excluded?” Pike let the question sink in, and while it did, he took several long puffs on his cigarette, until the unresponsive seneschal finally answered.
“All three of you are suspects in this complicated job. You have been named as openly hostile by our Grand Master,” the seneschal indicated Pike. “These two were named as our field commanders on this mission. That’s all there is to it. Now, stop with the double talk and negotiation.” To punctuate his point, he pulled back the hammer on his uzi.
Pike saw this as a major tactical setback, though not insurmountable. At this point, he did not wager further debate, but waited for another opportunity. He knew better than to cross a Templar who’s been blunt and has a cocked uzi pointed at him, though he did still dare to speak, without a gun, negotiation his only weapon. “May I speak to the Masons then? I only want to discuss terms of visitation after custody.”
“What do you mean? You’ll have no association after we leave,” the seneschal answered, despite himself.
“I would like to discuss this with the leaders of this mission, sir. I mean no disrespect. I see no other option if we intend to remain in contact with our Redeemer.” This was going well, Pike thought. The big lunk-head was getting into it, despite his earlier assertions.
“You will have to find us for any association to take place, sir,” Russell stated
, trying to show they were not in league. “Your kind is beneath association, and it’s a shame we can’t kill you too.”
“Accidents happen,” Pike quipped. “The Dark Nobility will contact your Bernhardt Hapsburg for negotiations. You have won this battle, gentlemen. I’ll leave you to it.” He saw the very moment the Templar commander broke from his orders. It was when he named the Grand Master with such familiarity, combined with the frustration Russell showed at this turn of topic.
“I told you before, this is over. We will not be discussing any such thing with the likes of you.” Russell turned to the doubting seneschal and added, “Father Thomas, please dispose of this Illuminati filth.”
“Not until I get some answers,” Father Thomas asserted. “Why isn’t Father Quentin here? You’re only being granted respect because our Grand Master vouched for you, and I don’t see him here. So, you go ahead and tell me why I shouldn’t put you with your friend over there.” He indicated Albert Pike, who added, “People in glass houses, Master Mason Russell. I’m sure you know the rest.”
As he continued to plant seeds of doubt amongst the Masons, he shot glances at Kosta, who nodded in understanding. Kosta whispered for Adam to move closer to his earlier hiding place while Pike tried to distract their attention.
“My affiliations are known, Mr. Russell, Mr. Caldwell. Our Templar foes are also open with affiliations; here, the only two unknown are you. Where do you stand? Who do you serve?”
Adam had started to move Kosta to the control area when two of the Templars shouted for him to halt. He took another step, but halted when a bullet whizzed past his ear.
“You were told to stop, Beast.” Father Thomas’ tone was dangerous. Whatever his orders, if given enough reason, he would kill Adam.
“We don’t have to answer any questions, Mr. Pike. You are trying to fog the issue. We’ll take the boy and be on our way. Father Thomas, take the young man into custody and kill the rest,” Russell stated, taking charge. However, Father Thomas ignored his commands. “Seneschal Thomas, you are being given a direct order from a duly appointed field commander of your Grand Master.”
“I want an answer. Who do you serve, sir? A lot of Freemasons have been known to us and I remember your names. So, for that reason, Grand Master or no, convince me you’re not on his side.”
“Father Thomas, we are all Brothers of the Temple. You are members who stayed in the Order, hidden within the Church. We had to hide the Order in the world, without benefit or protection,” Caldwell explained, trying to bolster Russell’s assertions. “We all revere the same ancestors: De Molay, De Payens, De Toroga. Everyone here has sworn upon Baphomet and protected the Sangrael.”
Russell interjected, completing their appeal to the doubting Templar. “We serve our Order, sir. There is much you do not know about, and when we return with this boy, Grand Master Hapsburg will tell you everything. It is time our Order is reunited.”
The Masons were excellent negotiators; they had every Templar riveted during their speech. They hadn’t even noticed Kosta slide an own uzi from a hiding place but his wounds forced him to drop it. As he struggled with the weapon, Adam knew he had to allow his protesting Darkness free reign. In the past hour it strained to let loose, and the relief was nearly audible when Adam let it.
Again, a swirling, frigid cold mist, the colors of slaughter and maiming, filled the air. Kosta’s eyes took on a pained expression of regret. He remembered the first time it happened with the fat businessman and shook his head. Pike fell to his knees, awed by it; a dark pilgrim beholding a revered relic.
The Templars shouted at each other and Father Thomas screamed they’d shoot Kosta if Adam didn’t stop. Kosta had ducked behind the reinforced walls; nothing short of a bazooka could get through them.
Thomas told everyone to begin the Roman Ritual, and withdrew the crucifixes they had around their necks. Seven Templars advanced on Adam and ordered the Darkness out, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. It felt no ill, even well into their second verse. Adam coaxed it to its full, terrible splendor and dealt with the misguided clergymen.
The final change wasn’t like Azazel’s startling change but was equally jarring, though a more subtle aberration. When the Darkness was in control, Adam did not breathe. The Darkness stopped all life, because it was Death. The light in the room didn’t register on him — it absorbed everything. Sounds were muted and scent was gone. Even the sunshine was darker. All sensory reality weakened in the presence of full Darkness.
The Templars, try as they might, had no effect, even with holy water. Used on any other damned thing, it would have caused excruciating pain, but the Darkness didn’t respond.
The first, of the seven to die, was flung bone-crunchingly against the far wall, propelled by the tangible will of the Darkness. It then spun a second around with unseen blows, while his brother knights heard his bones pop, accompanied by screams of pain.
Five remained and they desperately pulled out their guns. The shots flew at Adam, but by the time the bullets never reached him. He looked at each of them, and with every glance, one was returned to his God.
The Darkness snapped the first one’s neck and allowed him to fall in a heap, the second terminated in the same manner. Still, the three who remained didn’t give up, drawing their knives to slash and stab. Instead, the intended wounds appeared on each other and they dropped their weapons to clutch at their wounds. One gurgled from a cut to his neck, another from a stab in his side, with the last grabbing his chest, just left of center.
Suddenly, the immediate danger from the Templars was gone. The Freemasons, Russell and Caldwell, were speechless as Pike, still on his knees, stared adoringly at Adam. In four steps, Adam was beside Kosta and asked him if he needed anything.
“How bad is it?” the Darkness spoke. The sound was that of a predator, low and guttural, an animal that should never speak.
“I’ll live. Believe me, I’ve suffered through worse. We can’t stay here any longer; we’ve got to get out.” Kosta put his weight on Adam and climbed to his feet. He gratefully leaned on him, though the Darkness didn’t feel it at all. The longer it was there, the more comfortable Adam felt, and with more than a little regret, he let it sink away. When it was gone, his breath returned and his blood began to flow.
“That was the single most incredible spectacle I have seen in my life!” Pike was ecstatic with adoration. Before, he had been respectful, merely sensing Adam’s potential. With the transformation, he saw the potential fulfilled. Even though Adam was himself again, Pike still saw the Darkness, and always would.
Behind him, Russell and Caldwell salvaged their composure enough to resume their mission. Russell picked up an uzi, leveling it at Adam.
“How dare you point a gun at our Lord?” Pike was indignant, picking up his own fallen pistol and firing without further comment. The two shots caught Russell, one in his side, just below his outstretched arm, the second twisting his head sideward. In turn, he fell into the other Mason. Caldwell had also picked up a pistol and would’ve shot Pike dead, if Russell hadn’t spoiled it. Even so, he still mortally wounded Pike, who lasted long enough to take Caldwell to hell with him.
As he fell to his knees, Pike grimly aimed and emptied the rest of his magazine into the Mason. Five shots hit: the first high in his chest, and as their force spun him around, they descended with Pike. The next was below his ribs, followed by one in the middle of his back, and another in his side, with the last one lodging just above his groin.
“Blood and souls for my lord Prince, blood and souls,” Pike whispered with his last breath, leaving Kosta and Adam at last. Every one of the enemy, over thirty in number, was dead. Adam carried Kosta over to his chair, sat him in it and rushed to get something for his wounds. He returned with kitchen towels, but Kosta directed him to a medical kit he had for just such an occasion.
Adam left the room for an instant, and when he returned, Kosta stood without help. His posture, even his expression
was not his own. He stood with an authority Adam didn’t recognize. The air had gone icy and a mist, deeper and more pronounced than the Darkness, was all around. The air was awash in colors of massacre; carnage and slaughter filled every one of his senses.
The smile on Kosta’s face was pleasant, but a trifle too pleasant. This new entity was nice, the way child molesters are nice to children. If you ask any of them, they’ll say they LOVE children, but it is a selfish love, which exists only as long as needs are met. As the creature talked, he confirmed Adam’s fears.
“My son, I finally see you and you’re more beautiful than I imagined.” The Prince of Lies continued, stating that the required ceremonies had been completed well before Pike arrived and that the final words, needed to conjure Him, were spoken as Pike lay dying. Satan then inhabited the only person left alive. The dead mercenaries satisfied the sacrifices necessary for the conjuring.
In the ensuing minutes, He sincerely tried to show His love, His devotion to His only son. He kept repeating how wounded He had been when nobody could find Adam. He had moved hell on earth to be able to finally be there, and they could be together, as it should’ve been from the beginning.
“What have you done with Kosta?” Adam hoped that Kosta could still come out of this alive. He thought of praying, but knew it would be useless.
The devil who had Kosta hostage continued to talk about His affection for His son, but Adam didn’t respond. After minutes of promises, He answered the question. “He is still here and I will make sure he is rewarded for his actions.” Lucifer’s tone was bright and happy. He was not the nightmarish goblin, so commonly portrayed. He looked around and shook his head in regret. “None of this had to happen, you know.”
“It happens all the time, so why does it bother you now?” Adam was surprised at the emotion and began to believe this could very well be myth come to life: the real Satan.
