by J. F. Penn
“One minute left,” Natasha said, walking towards the hostages. “Now which one do I choose next?”
Her voice was almost a caress and in that second, Morgan’s anger grew white hot. Nothing mattered except finishing this. Her eyes darted around looking for something to use. Next to the fireplace was an axe in a glass case. Morgan leapt for the axe and broke the glass with the woodcut. Natasha spun around, her weapon raised as the hostages screamed in terror. A guard fired at Morgan defensively, but Jake pushed him aside and the bullets went wide, thumping into the fireplace. Morgan threw the wooden block down and with a blow of the axe, split it open as Jake punched the guard and was dragged off him by another.
“Hold your fire. Silence.” Natasha shouted into the chaos, authority ringing in her tone. She walked with gun outstretched to Morgan’s side and held the snub-nosed weapon against her temple. Morgan’s breathing was fast from the exertion and she closed her eyes waiting for the shot.
“Well, well. It seems Dr Sierra has found the pages,” Natasha said.
Morgan looked down at the block. The axe was still embedded in it, but the crack had opened enough to show a sheaf of parchment folded tightly into a space inside. She looked over at Jake and saw his relief reflected her own. She had known he would act to protect her, trusting her partner even as she knew she had acted rashly. But it had paid off again. How many more chances did she have?
“Open it,” Natasha said, standing further back out of direct reach.
Morgan bent and wrenched the handle of the axe out.
“Careful now. Throw that back to the fireplace.”
Morgan did as she was asked, then prized the woodblock open, pulling the pages gently from their hiding place. They felt waxy, as if they had been coated with something to preserve them. She unfolded them and saw that the illuminated pages clearly matched the Devil’s Bible. Words swirled on the pages. Morgan tried to read some of them, the Latin ancient and stilted, hard to understand, but they were mesmerizing, intoxicating just to look at. Time seemed to slow and Morgan wanted to sink into them, to savor the words on her tongue. Natasha impatiently grabbed them from her, rifling through the pages, counting ten of them.
“They’re all here. I must get them back to Thanatos so we can complete the ritual tonight.” She looked at Morgan and Jake. “I think you two will join us. We need a sacrifice and after the trouble you’ve caused, he will be pleased to have you as a gift to the Lord of Darkness.”
Sedlec, Kutna Hora, Czech Republic, 11.42pm
Morgan and Jake were thrust out of the van into the blackness of the Czech night, their hands still cuffed with plastic ties. The drive from Karlsruhe east to the Czech Republic had taken only five hours on the fast German roads but they had been cramped and uncomfortable. The journey had passed in silence; any attempt at conversation had been met with a thud in the ribs from the weapons of the guards. When she realized where they were, Morgan knew they would have passed close to Nuremberg where Durer had lived and carved the images. She and Jake had been cuffed to a bench in the back of the van so she hadn’t been able to see the route but now they had reached their destination, it all made sense.
“Sedlec,” she said. “It’s the bone church. The Devil’s Bible once rested here and Arkady Novotsky’s grave is here too.”
A figure loomed out of the darkness.
“Indeed, my father rests just over there.” Milan Noble stepped from the shadows, his chiseled features etched in the lamplight and he reached forward to trace Morgan’s cheek. Natasha stepped in front of him, blocking his hand with her body, stopping any show of interest in her perceived rival.
“I have the pages. I thought these two might be good for sacrifice.”
She gave Milan the pages, and he held them to the light, his eyes skimming the words.
“These are a match to the Devil’s Bible. Well done Natasha.”
Milan pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, all thought of Morgan forgotten. Natasha moaned as he bit down on her lip, drawing blood.
“Get a room,” Jake said and was rewarded with a thump in the gut by one of the guards.
Milan stood tall, his arm still around Natasha. Morgan noticed that his hand moved down to cup her belly in a protective manner. Was another secret hidden there?
“We will perform the ritual at midnight, for the words unleash power to those who speak them. Tomorrow they will be released to the world and our armageddon will truly begin.”
“You don’t have to do this Milan,” Morgan pleaded. “You can still burn those pages. Leave Zoebios to do good in the world. It’s your legacy.”
Milan stood taller.
“In the shadow of my father’s house you dare talk about legacy. I am finishing his work for life only finds its fulfillment in death and Thanatos is death in all its glory. The prophecy can be fulfilled by these words and the way I can send it to the world. A quarter of the world will die Morgan, but you won’t live to see it happen.”
He spun round and strode into the church. Natasha smiled with triumph and followed him while the guards forced Morgan and Jake forwards down the path and into the Sedlec church. They were joined by Armen Harghada, who smiled at Morgan, eyes hooded like a snake impassively waiting for the death of its prey so it can feed.
Inside, the macabre church was lit with candles placed in bony candlesticks. Ancient fingers stretched towards heaven as wax dripped down them, creating a form of pale flesh. The air was heavy with smoky incense, the scent cloying. Morgan breathed it in and felt her awareness blur, as if the smoke was carrying part of her away. The altar of human skeletons gleamed in the flickering light and on it the huge book, the Devil’s Bible, lay open.
Milan carefully placed the missing pages onto it and ran his fingers over the parchment. Morgan could see he was already reading the words in his head and for a second, she remembered how it had felt when she had glanced them back in Germany. It had seemed like the first touch of a drug that you just wanted to sink into, but a pleasure that would devour if you would just say the words aloud. Part of her wanted to rip the pages from him and speak the words herself but she also saw in her mind the precipice that those words stood upon. She felt like she was clinging to a rock above a sea of molten fire that would destroy in bursts of flame. Those possessed by the drug of the words would fling themselves into the holocaust with no care for their coming destruction.
Milan raised his hands above his head in divine supplication. There was a silence in the crypt, as if angels and demons crouched in the bony arches held their breath, waiting for the decision of this one man to leap into darkness or reach towards the light.
*****
Milan Noble began to read aloud from the Devil’s Bible, speaking the curses that would empower him with the might of the Evil One. He felt the surge in his body as he spoke the ancient words, a humming through his veins as if he was possessed by a tremendous force. The image of Satan inscribed on the page filled his vision, plumes of sulfur rising from his body as he slashed through bloody chunks of flesh from the victim beneath him. Milan felt invincible. This was what his father had sought, this communion with the dark side, with the shadow. He hadn’t truly believed it himself until this moment but now he was becoming something new. He could feel the change welling up inside.
His gut twisted, his heart raced. This was a freedom of spirit he hadn’t expected and in that moment he saw the heavens open and the earth split with the fires of Hell beneath. He saw God turn his back and leave the demons to take what they now owned. Milan shouted the final word in glorious release and a flash of light burst into his brain, illuminating everything. Then he doubled over in pain, retching as if a serpent had unwound itself in the pit of his stomach. His muscles spasmed and he fell to the floor, twitching, head rolling, as the final words echoed through his brain.
*****
Morgan watched in amazement as Milan fell to the ground in what looked like an epileptic fit. She saw ripples under his skin as if something w
as crawling under there, trying to get out and it looked like he was physically changing. Was it real, she thought, or just the effects of the heavy incense smoke? As Natasha, Harghada and the bodyguards rushed to help Milan, Morgan saw their chance to escape but Jake shook his head.
“We can’t leave. We have to finish this,” he whispered. Milan’s retching had turned into grunting, an animal roar that reverberated in the bony chamber.
“Then we must at least get out of the way,” Morgan replied. “We can get up to the balcony there and wait to see what happens.”
Together they crept up the balcony stairs and looked down upon the scene unfolding below. The shimmering incense smoke partially obscured their view, like looking through opaque glass. Finally, Milan stopped twisting and lay still and as Natasha stepped away, Morgan caught a glimpse of his face. Milan’s beauty seemed grotesquely enhanced, every angle of his chiseled face exaggerated into sharpness by a diabolical metamorphosis. He looked like a deadly angel, one of those that loved human women too much. As his eyes opened, Natasha backed away, running for the door.
One of the bodyguards bent down to help Milan but the man’s head exploded as a bony spear thrust up through his jaw. Milan ripped the head from the man’s shoulders in one swipe of his makeshift blade and then spun to his feet. In a swift motion, he smashed the other guard into the altar, then grabbed his head, dashing it repeatedly on the stone until it ran red with blood and mashed brains. The door slammed as Natasha left and Morgan heard the scraping of the lock, shutting them in here with the demon. Milan snarled and advanced on Harghada who was curled in the corner, whimpering.
“Here, you bastard, have a go at me.”
Morgan heard Jake’s voice in the nave. He had slipped back down and was trying to draw Milan away from the cowering Doctor. Damn him. Always playing the hero, Morgan thought. She could see Jake in the haze of smoke, brandishing a femur like a club in one hand and a length of chain in the other. He had smashed the femur so the broken end was sword-sharp, a bony spike that matched Milan’s weapon. For a second, she saw how magnificent he was, a lean gladiator fighting the ancient battle against evil. In opposition, Milan was a sculpted Lucifer, ripples of energy pulsing down his long arms.
“You’re not enough to beat me, Jake Timber. You and all here will die and I will take this curse to the world.”
Milan snarled and spun towards the cowering Doctor, daring Jake to attack him. Jake whipped the chain under his legs to try and stop him reaching his prey. Milan leaped, an impossible animal bound that barreled him into his victim. He ripped and bit at the man’s flesh as Harghada screamed in agony and terror. Jake rushed in to hammer Milan with the femur but with a powerful feral kick, he was sent flying backwards. The brutal blow smashed him head first into the stack of deconstructed skeletons which crashed to the floor around him. Jake lay there, unmoving.
Milan silenced Harghada’s scream by slashing his face off with the bone blade. He seemed not at all hurried this time, hacking at his victim and biting until the once arrogant Doctor was just a bloody lump of flesh. Morgan watched the horror, frozen by fear. The carnage had happened in just a few seconds. She should run like Natasha; she could still get away, but she had to get to Jake. He had come back for her during Pentecost and she wouldn’t leave him to this bloody end now. She saw Milan’s eyes flick to Jake and knew she had to act.
“Up here,” she called. “Don’t think it’s over yet.”
“Morgan,” he said, his voice a perverse caress. “You shall be the perfect sacrifice to my dark Lord. Will you come down or I shall come up there and get you?”
His voice was terrifying in its normality, a voice that had whispered sweet things in her ear, tempting her with promises. But the mouth that would have given her pleasure was now dripping with the blood of his victims. Morgan’s rational mind was still questioning the reality of his transformation. Was the power of the Devil’s Bible real? Or was this heady smoke creating hallucinations of horror? She hesitated.
“I’m coming up then,” he said. “I’ll finish your boyfriend afterwards for I think watching you die will be his torture.”
Morgan crouched with her back to the balcony railing. She could hear Milan walking across the floor of the church and in seconds, he would be up here and on her. She looked around desperately. What could she use to defend herself?
In that moment, a calm descended on her and Elian’s voice came to her over the years. He had died in a battle for their lives just as this one and after the bullets had carved a path through his body, he had spoken in his dying breath ‘Morgan, you must live for me.’ She owed it to him, the man she had loved so much and now Jake, the man she had begun to trust. She would not go down cowering in fear to this demon.
Jumping to her feet, she tried to calm her breath and still her mind. Focus on this moment alone, she thought. There’s always an option. Then she saw the chandelier and knew it was her chance. She couldn’t fight in this enclosed space with no weapon. She climbed onto the railing and looked down at Milan, his body drenched in gore. It looked like he was changing, becoming more demon and less man. He looked up and snarled, lips curling back over perfect teeth stained with blood. What was this curse, Morgan thought, that it could turn man into unhallowed beast so fast?
Milan began to climb, using the skeletal ornamentation to pull himself up towards the balcony. Morgan looked out towards the chandelier. She had one chance to make it or she would break her own body landing on the flagstones far below and then he would rip what was left of her apart. She could see Jake stirring in the pile of shattered bones but his eyes were still closed so she had to keep Milan focused on her.
Just as an obscenely muscled arm reached the top of the balcony, Morgan leapt into space, flinging herself towards the chandelier, praying its fragile arms would hold her weight. The macabre bone structure rattled as she grabbed for it, swinging away from the balcony, her face up against the humerus bones of hundreds of plague dead. Milan laughed at her stupidity and she realized that she would inevitably swing back towards him, but over the other side was another balcony. If she could swing to it in the next pass, she could climb down on that side before he reached her and grab a weapon.
As the chandelier swung back towards Milan, Morgan tucked her legs up, daring to hope that he wouldn’t be able to reach her swinging body. The bark of his laugh pierced her thoughts and she felt the swipe of pain in her back and side as his blade connected, ripping open a deep wound. But she held on and swung back to the far balcony.
“First blood, Morgan,” Milan rasped. “The rest I will spill on the altar as I take you to my Master.”
As the chandelier reached its zenith, she jumped, using her legs as leverage. She didn’t quite make it over the balcony railing but smashed into it, opening her wound further. She gasped, clutching with desperate hands as she began to slip back. Her fingers found the bony protuberances of another sculpture and she stopped falling, but she knew Milan would be on her soon enough. She scrabbled to try to climb over, but the cold fingers of pain were sneaking up from her side. But she wouldn’t go down running from him. She needed a weapon and then she would face what he had become and send him to Hell.
*****
Jake’s head was fuzzy from the fall and the effects of the incense smoke but he was still alive. He heard the barking laugh and knew he had to stand. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, head spinning. He looked up to see Morgan hanging from the balcony opposite where they had been hiding and Milan about to jump after her. Jake saw the spiked femur on the ground and with a great surge of energy, grabbed it and ran towards them.
Milan jumped and his fingers grabbed the bony candelabra arms. The light swung but the man was too heavy and a crack resounded through the church as the fitting broke.
Jake leaped forward with the femur and held it like a lance of faith towards heaven.
Milan fell, tangled in the thousand bone chandelier, and with a sickening scream he was impaled e
ven as he crushed Jake beneath him.
*****
Morgan watched in horror as Jake was buried beneath Milan’s body and the twisted pile of bones. With renewed strength, she pulled herself over the balcony, hand clutched to her side, trying to stem the bleeding. Limping now, she stumbled down the stairs and out into the nave. The pile of bones and flesh hadn’t moved.
“Jake, can you hear me?” she called in desperation, scrabbling to pull the bones off. Then she saw Milan, eyes glassy, his mouth open in shock, but his face was as beautiful as the day she had first met him. The demon inside him was gone and he was transformed back to man in death. The bony femur had lanced through his body and thrust out through his chest, ripping through bloody flesh. Morgan was crying now, tears running down her face in shock and horror and in anguish for Jake.
“Be alright, just be alright,” she whispered, as she dragged Milan’s body off the pile, uncaring of the dead. As she rolled it away, she found Jake underneath, his face pale but he was still breathing, a ragged, rasping sound.
“Jake, can you hear me? Jake?” Morgan felt the weak pulse at his neck. His body was bloody but looked more crushed than ripped open. Her own wound throbbed and she had to get help before she too passed out. Remembering the dead guards, Morgan crawled to the nearest one. His ragged face was mauled, his body lying in a pool of congealed blood. She rifled through his pocket, finding the cell phone. Dizzy now, she dialed the ARKANE emergency number and as the voice asked for identification, she slipped into unconsciousness.
