《Vatican Down Book 1; The Awakening》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1


    It¡¯s 2 a.m. The Luxor Hotel lies nestled in night''s heavy cloak. Silence draped over the corridors like a thick miasma, broken only by the muffled hum of a distant ice machine and the occasional whisper of nocturnal footsteps. Jack rolled over and saw a huge dark figure. It was the kind of darkness that consumed all light. He sat up in horror and watched this spirit holding a man. ¡°No, my God, it is my father, " he said.


    Being held aloft the figure rips through the man''s body with a large knife-like claw, spilling his entrails all over the floor, the smell of copper from the blood and the putrid odor of decaying flesh filled Jack''s nose. The creature looking at Jack spoke, ¡°I will see you soon Jacky Boy.¡± Both the man and dark spirit start to laugh, Jack lets out a primal scream, then bolts upright in his bed, the room phone ringing, adding more chaos and confusion to his weakening state of mind.


    ¡°What!¡± He snapped still disorientated.


    ¡°Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Porter. You have a visitor,¡± said the front desk attendant with all the empathy of a rock.


    Jack''s brow furrowed in irritation. ¡°What the hell? At this hour, tell them to come back in the morning.¡± He slammed the phone down, lying back down sweating, his heart pounding out of his chest, and closed his eyes to try to center himself. A ringing telephone once again shattered the unnatural stillness of his room; this time, the noise had a desperate, almost panicked resonance.


    ¡°Really! What is it now?¡± He barked in a more hostile tone.


    ¡°Again, Mr. Porter my apologies, but your visitor demands to see you,¡± he said with an attitude suggesting HE was being inconvenienced.


    ¡°Well, who the fuck is this visitor who cannot wait?¡± Jack said.


    ¡°He says his name is Father Murray from Mary Mother Savior Church,¡± he said as he exhaled with a bored sound.


    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me!¡± Jack groaned.


    ¡°He is claiming it is of dire importance that he speaks to you.¡± He could almost hear the eye roll from this little asshat.


    ¡°For shit¡¯s sake, okay fine I will be down shortly, I can¡¯t imagine what emergency the church could have at this hour.¡±


    Jack forced his still-shaking body out of bed and got dressed; leather loafers, distressed brown cargo pants, and his favorite black T-shirt with the ominous skull and crossbones, it was his uniform of rebellion, a statement of defiance against the world. Irritated and mumbling curses under his breath he leaves the unnerving darkness of his room into the harsh glare of the hotel corridor. As Jack walked to the elevator the lights were flickering behind him, giving an impression of a slight strobe effect in his periphery, feeling that he was being followed somehow ¡°That¡¯s creepy as hell!¡± He said.


    Downstairs in the Lobby Father Nicholas Murray a 56-year-old Irish Catholic priest, his dark hair and ice blue eyes lend him an intensity that would move the most ardent sinners to find the lord, his presence exuded an aura of somberness amid the opulent surroundings. He was pacing and rubbing his hands together so quickly that they had become hot and sweaty, worried about the news he had received earlier today, having to wake a total stranger from his sleep, and wondering if this man would help him or give him a holy ass beating after such an intrusion. Father Murray heard the bell on the elevator car ding, and he knew that it was showtime.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Father Murray started toward the hallway, stopping in his tracks as Jack stepped out. The 6-foot 3-inch, 240-pound muscled, tattooed frame and fashion choice surprised Father Murray. ¡°Jjj... Jack Porter?¡± the Father exclaimed in a stutter, not believing that the country''s premier antiquities dealer looked like a supermodel and cage fighter all wrapped up into one chaotic person.


    ¡°Mr. Porter I am so very sorry to have to trouble you like this, please let us sit here in the lobby where I can explain my overly rude behavior in private.¡±


    The tension was evident, it hung in the air like a hooker''s perfume in a dive bar as they settled into the plush armchairs.


    Jack began ¡°Yes, please Father explain to me why the hell you would have me up at such an ungodly hour.¡± He took no notice of the sarcasm.


    ¡°Mr. Porter, I have sought you out this evening under less than favorable conditions, I am afraid.¡± He continued, ¡°I came here because I was told you would be attending the International Antiquities Symposium, and I need your help.¡± The father said, desperation creeping into his voice like the whisper of a ghost.


    ¡°Well Father I am more than willing to help the Church, but I do not understand why you would need my help this late at night,¡± he said crossly,


    ¡°Time is of the essence Jack, if I may be so bold, but I have very little time to deal with the issue at hand.¡±


    ¡°Well, Father so far you haven¡¯t told me shit about this problem, what exactly do you need from me.¡±


    ¡°Jack I need you to help me track down a lost pallet of items that were sold at an estate sale by accident.¡± He said.


    ¡°What? Seriously! I¡¯m sorry Father but don¡¯t you have people that are more than capable of handling this.?¡± Incredulity was evident in his tone as it echoed through the cavernous lobby.


    ¡°No Jack!¡± realizing his elevated tone his cheeks heat up, veins starting to bulge in his forehead, embarrassed, he continues in a more hushed tone ¡°No I do not, this pallet contains very old boxes, which contain very dangerous items if left in the wrong hands, I..¡±


    ¡°Okay Father¡± I interrupted ¡°but that still does not sound like something that you need my help with, why not just call the auction company and explain it was a mistake to sell them and get the information on who made the purchase, and what is so dangerous about the contents of these boxes?¡±


    ¡°It is complicated, we know who has them, but I cannot go into too much detail here, please Jack will you help me?¡±


    Weariness weighed heavy in his eyes, and Jack was tired, irritated, and still shaken up by his vision, but he kinda liked Father Murray''s intensity, and could sense that something serious was being left out of the conversation.


    ¡°Okay Father, I will help you under one condition!¡± He said lifting an eyebrow


    ¡°Yes, Jack what is that?¡±


    ¡°You and I will meet later this morning, and you will tell me the whole story,¡± he said sternly, the tone sanctioning no argument.


    The priest became noticeably nervous ¡°Um, well I can only tell you so much.¡±


    ¡°No Father! the whole story or no deal.¡± his voice was unwavering, his gaze steady as he held the Father''s eyes captive.


    Father Murray''s eyes jutted back and forth then finally back up to Jack''s eyes, ¡°Okay, I will tell you. Here is the address of the church but please tell no one of our visit here tonight.¡± He said.


    ¡°Okay Father I will not mention it to anyone, I will meet you at the church at 11 am.¡± He said.


    ¡°Thank the Lord, and thank you Jack, and again I¡­,¡±


    ¡°I know l know,¡± waving his large hand in the air as he stood and bid the priest goodnight and returned to the room.


    He sat there in the dark when his mind started to replay the last moments of his father''s life, and that fucking cursed clock that fell on him. ¡°One day I will find it again, and the demon bound inside will be purged in the most inappropriate ways that I can think of. Until then it is a shower and an entirely too early breakfast for me.¡± He said aloud.

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2


    Arriving at the church, it stood in stark contrast to the surrounding industrial neighborhood. The modest structure seemed almost inconspicuous, hidden in plain view nestled amidst the towering buildings and large steel structures. As he approached the entrance, a sense of anticipation mingled with goosebumps, causing a shiver to run down his spine. The heavy wooden door opened with a sharp tug, revealing the warm glow from within.


    Enveloped by a sense of familiarity and reverence, the crisp white walls adorned with traditional Catholic decorations whispered of centuries of faith and devotion. To his left, the sanctuary beckoned, its doors closed, holding secrets and mysteries within. To his right, a small galley kitchen stood, offering comfort of warmth and sustenance.


    Jack''s attention was drawn to the bookshelves lining the back wall, each shelf filled with volumes and tomes that seemed out of place in such a sacred space, works from Agrippa, Crowley, Waite, etc. Intrigued, he reached out to grab one of the occult titles, feeling a surge of curiosity coursing through his body. Before he could delve deeper, a melodic voice broke the silence, startling him from his reverie, a woman''s voice from behind asked if she could be of assistance. Quickly spinning around to face her Jack was taken aback by the classic beauty standing before him.


    "Um yes, I have an appointment with Father Murray,¡± He said


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said through a radiant smile of perfect white teeth, ¡°Mr. Porter I presume?¡± sticking her hand out


    ¡°Yes, please call me Jack,¡± shaking her hand.


    ¡°As you wish, come with me Father Murray has been expecting you.¡±


    They entered the worship hall and walked to the stage where you could see a room behind the curtains, he thought to himself yep just like The Wizard of Oz I am going to be led down a fake path to get home.


    ¡°Ah, Jack I am so glad you came. Again I would like to apologize for the intrusion last night.¡± the Priest sheepishly offered.


    ¡°It''s fine Father, however, you do remember my condition.¡±


    ¡°Yes Jack, please come in make yourself comfortable, and we can get started. I came to you for help because of your specific skill sets in the handling of rare and very old items.¡±


    ¡°Yes Father you made that clear, although I still stand behind the opinion that you have people that can handle this, I ...¡± the father interrupts.


    ¡°Jack, we, the Catholic Church have a large network of people that keep up on the dealings of certain items of concern to the church.¡±  He said with a hardness that Jack did not expect.


    ¡°Father, what is it that you are eluding to? What items are creating a concern for the church?¡± he said with a growing nervousness


    ¡°The objects that I speak of are boxes that contain demons that have been bound inside them.¡±  Instantly I felt myself go rigid, no one knows of the secret life I have, or does the church somehow have-- Jack''s mind drifted back to a time when his passion as well as fear of the unknown things came to be.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Jack, are you all right? You look like you have seen a ghost.¡±


    ¡°Yes Father I''m fine, please continue.¡±  I had to blink and reposition in my chair to shake the memory.


    ¡°Okay, it is our understanding that you have a vast assortment of these boxes and other cursed and enchanted items,¡± he said bluntly.


    ¡°Well um, yes, how does that concern the church?¡± Suddenly I started feeling very warm, and thinking the heavy beats of my heart could be seen by the Father across the desk.


    ¡°The items I had mentioned in the hotel last night are called Dybbuk boxes. These boxes contain very nasty and powerful demons that were bound inside them by a team of exorcists and their assistants. Father Timothy was the caretaker of those boxes. He became ill last year, with cancer, and passed away a couple of hours ago.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry to hear of his passing Father, but what exactly do you need from me.?¡±


    ¡°I need you to go to a small town outside Salem Massachusetts, with Miss Harris, retrieve them and bring them back here. You have the knowledge and experience I trust to deal with items of such risk.¡± He said.


    ¡°I will talk to my staff and get you a time when I am free of-¡±


    ¡°Jack!¡± The Father''s interruption was sharp, his tone commanding. ¡°I need you to go right away, tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°Look Father, I have speaking engagements and other responsibilities and commitments that I need to take care of first.¡±


    ¡°I understand that Jack, I already took the liberty of talking to your people, they have cleared your schedule for you so you could help the church in their time of need.¡±


    ¡°You did what!?¡± Anger bubbled up within me as I struggled to maintain my composure.


    He simply stated  ¡°The Lord works in mysterious ways Jack, please be at the airport at 7:45 am, Miss Harris will meet you at the front entrance. You will be taking a private flight, Miss Harris will fill you in on all the details and answer any questions you may have.¡±


    ¡°Father I have not even decided if I will accept your request, you''re starting to really piss me off, you have some huge balls to presume that you have the right to call my office and change my schedule without my consent or knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Yes Jack I have to do inappropriate things, and at times with no consideration of others. This is a grave issue that requires serious and swift action. Also yes I have some profoundly large balls, especially when it comes to the release of evil upon the world. So go now, get packed, be rested, and be ready for what you will learn in the next week.¡± He said very matter-of-factually.


    Back at the hotel bar, my mind was foggy, feeling as if I was not in my own head. I ordered a scotch to settle the uneasy feelings welling up inside the darkest shit ponds of my psyche. As the drink was placed in front of me I started to reach for it when someone grabbed my shoulder.


    ¡°I would not indulge myself with that until we get back,¡± said a woman''s voice from behind. I spun around and my mind was instantly soothed by the smile of Clara Jean Harris.


    ¡°Miss Harris what are you-¡±


    ¡°Father Murray wanted me, actually insisted that I ensure you were squared away for tomorrow so I am staying here tonight as well so we can go together in the morning.¡±


    ¡°The Father does have seriously large balls, I apologize that he has inconvenienced you for my sake.¡±


    ¡°It is not a problem really, I am used to the impetuous decisions and last-minute life changes that I have to go through.¡± She said playfully rolling her eyes.


    ¡°Well let''s go somewhere more fitting for us to talk.¡± He said.


    Miss Clara Jean Harris was a vivacious woman with shoulder-length dark hair, a tall gracious frame with brown eyes that could stop a freight train. Jack felt at ease in her company, but his instincts were telling him to back off.


    ¡°So Miss Harris what is it that you do for Father Murray?¡±


    ¡°Please call me Clara, as far as my work for the church and Father Murray, it has many layers, mostly as the church administrator, secretary, accountant, assistant, and so on. All the boring tasks you would assume a church to have.¡±


    ¡°What are all these pressing concerns of the church, that he was so losing his mind over? What are your responsibilities for this trip that we both have been forcibly volunteered for?¡±


    ¡°That is complicated, I will explain everything to you on the plane flight tomorrow I promise,  but for now Jack it is best to retire and get ready for our day tomorrow.¡±  She said.


    Jack agreed, back in his room lying down with the feeling of doom in his immediate future, he finally had that scotch.

 Chapter 3

    The demon''s visceral screams, loud and guttural, pierced the darkness reverberating through every wall of the house in chorus to its horrific rhythm, and the stench of decaying flesh mingled with the acrid scent of sulfur filling their lungs. A battle of wills that had been going on for hours finally entered its crescendo, as the priests prayed aloud with manic determination brandishing a crucifix as they asperged holy water to every surface of each room, window, and door.


    Working their way down to the basement where a powerful eclectic witch priestess awaited, her eyes ablaze with an otherworldly fervor was preparing to ensnare the foul beast. The circle had been cast, the box ready for its new inhabitant. With a whispered incantation the witch called forth the powers of the four quarters. Her voice rose in a haunting chant, summoning her guides, invoking ancient deities and unseen spirits to aid in her request.


    The house violently shuttered shaking loose dust and old cobwebs as the demon prince was driven closer and closer to her position. Using Solomonic rituals she started to command the demon into the triangle that held the box. The team of exorcists standing directly above her now in the living room chanting a haunting prayer in Latin, the sound is so repulsive to the monster, with each word they pushed back against the malevolent force, focusing their collective will upon him pushing the spirit down to her.


    Father Timothy standing in front of her with the box between them, weakened from his illness found himself momentarily vulnerable, stalled for just a moment in his prayers and the demon lashed out with its energy and struck, knocking him back several feet his body crumpling up against the wall. At that moment, the witch¡¯s fury ignited, a wildfire of righteous anger in a swift motion pushed the demon into the box.


    Before she closed and sealed it up for eternity she smiled and dropped a consecrated Saint Michael medallion into the box as extra punishment for the foul soul. Quickly closing the box and then locking it. She continued the ritual, melting a red candle around the seam and scratching the binding sigils on every surface.


    Calling the others down she then pulls Father Timothy into the circle to work on his injuries both physical and astral. ¡°Father Timothy, are you okay?¡± She said.


    ¡°Yes my child I am okay, however, I do have much pain.¡±


    ¡°Percy! What happened? Did you capture it¡± a call came from Father Joncy one of the priests running down the stairs.


    ¡°Yes it is locked down, but Father Timothy is injured!¡± she yelled trying not to lose her composure and fighting the raw feelings of panic.


    ¡°Injured! What happened?¡± As the other priests converged in the basement they helped Father Timothy up and brought him and the box upstairs.


    ¡°Father, where are you hurt?¡± Percy asks with a shaky voice.


    ¡°I am fine my child, just some bruising is all,¡± he said with a faceful of scratches and a lump the size of a golf ball on the left side of his head.


    ¡°Let''s get him into the car and to the hospital,¡± She said.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Sitting alone in the stark, sterile, uninviting hospital waiting room, worried sick and praying the news of Father Timothy is good. Hearing voices from down the corridor she stood when Father Joncy came into view, and Percy saw the somber look in his eyes.


    ¡°What is it? What''s wrong?¡± she demanded.


    ¡°He will heal from his wounds, but his cancer has returned, he only has a few weeks left in this world, at least in the doctor''s opinion, we will see what the lord and Father Timothy''s stubbornness decide upon. He is sedated for tonight so please go home and rest. Come back in the morning first thing The Father would like to speak with you, we will remain with him tonight and continue our prayer vigil and protect him while he sleeps.¡±  He said.


    The next morning sitting quietly at the foot of his bed the priest slowly woke. ¡°I expected to see you much earlier Percy,¡±  he said with a weak smile,


    ¡°I''m sorry Father I would have been here sooner, but a strange car has been following me around this morning,¡±  she said as she moved her chair to the left side of the bed.


    ¡°What do you mean you are being followed? What kind of car is it?¡±  He said.


    ¡°I am sure it was nothing Father, it was a small black van, everywhere I went it was right behind me.¡± She said.


    ¡°I was fearful something like this would begin.¡± He said.


    ¡°What would begin Father?¡± She said.


    ¡°Percy, I am afraid that in my weakened condition the evil will now start to initiate its plans¡± Looking away from Percy and out the hospital window he recalls her as a young woman, how she had come to him in a dream about how satanic zealots in the Catholic Church were plotting to focus and release pure evil into the world.


    So many years later they are working side by side to undo the plans wrought against society. ¡°My child of nature and witchcraft, please listen and heed my warnings,  they will come for you when I am gone you need to leave town and do not look back. Do not let them find you.¡±  He said.


    ¡°Who Father? Who will be looking for me?¡± She asked almost in a panicked state.


    ¡°Listen to me, please, as you know there is a great evil coming upon us, but what you do not realize is the evil is being orchestrated by higher powers in the Vatican itself. I cannot give evidence, but I am afraid that even the Pope has a hand in all of this. They will be relentless in their goals to acquire all the boxes that we have stored in the church basement. Tonight I will arrange a get-together there, the priest that will be there I trust with my life.¡± Pausing to catch his breath and to let Percy absorb what he is saying. He continues ¡°Use that time to take the 6 boxes that they give you and disappear with them.¡±


    ¡°But Father what about you, I need to be here to help in your healing.¡± She said.


    ¡°No, my child. You need to follow the directions I have given to ensure that the world is safe, even if only for a few extra years.¡± He said.


    ¡°I will not leave you, you have been my only family for many years.¡±


    ¡°Percy, please, you know I am not a man of rash decisions. Please be at the church tonight at 8:30. I will let the others know that you are being followed, and they will intervene when they can to get you in and out unnoticed with those boxes.¡±


    ¡°Father, why only 6 there are so many?¡± She said.


    ¡°They are the 6 most vile ones we have dealt with, they are the key, not the others.¡± He said.


    ¡°But Father I...¡±


    ¡°Percy, please listen to me, go now, and get prepared for what you will need to do. Do not tell anyone what your plans are, or what your location will be. Your life and the well-being of millions depend on your secrecy, now go with God my sweet child.¡± He said.


    Feeling the tears welling up in her eyes, pausing to say all the things in her heart, she kisses the priest on his forehead, turns around, and briskly walks away. Knowing that she would never see her mentor and the only father figure she had since her dad was killed, her heart was breaking with every step she took, she knew the Father was right, but the pain intensified turning her mind into a torrent of memories so vivid and clear they made her run to the car.

 Chapter 4

    Now in her modest apartment, Percy¡¯s hands moved with frantic urgency, hastily stuffing her essentials into a worn suitcase. The room felt stifling, the air thick with tension as the clock ticked relentlessly in the background, each passing second a reminder of her dwindling time. As she packed, her mind raced with questions, each a weight upon her already burdened shoulders.


    ¡°Where will I go? How will I eat, and how am I going to get fuel?¡± she spoke out loud. With trembling hands, Percy gathered a few cherished items: a handful of faded photographs capturing moments of fleeting joy, her beloved collection of weathered books and journals filled with memories and dreams, and a trash bag hastily filled with clothes, each piece holding a story of its own. She makes one last meal in her small kitchen, takes a long look around, and drops to her knees.


    Overwhelmed by the weight of uncertainty, the dam of her emotions finally broke. Tears streamed down her cheeks in silent rivers, her sobs echoing off the empty walls as she grappled with the sheer magnitude of the unknown that lay ahead. In that moment of vulnerability, she felt utterly alone, a solitary figure in a vast and unforgiving world.


    After enduring what felt like an eternity of anguish, Percy¡¯s eyes were swollen from incessant weeping, her head throbbing with the weight of unresolved emotions. Exhausted and drained, she found herself collapsing onto the strangely cold floor, seeking solace in the oblivion of sleep.


    Waking up startled by a dream, the remnants of its haunting imagery still lingering in her mind, realizing she needs to get to the church, she stands up and takes one last look at the small box she called home, turns, and leaves. Arriving at the church she noticed that she did not have a van behind her, and she was unsettled, Instinctively, she veered towards the secluded back lot, out of sight from prying eyes, her movements shrouded in secrecy she walked up to the dimly lit weathered door and knocked.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Father Joncy opened the door and motioned her to enter, then stepped out to look around seeing nothing he closed the door quietly.


    ¡°Quickly Percy follow me!¡±  Percy follows the priest down a stairway to the basement, ¡°These six boxes are the ones Father Timothy wanted you to take.¡±  The priest said with an air of nervousness, ¡°I wish things could be different Percy.¡±


    ¡°Me too Father, I am scared and don''t know what to do.¡±


    ¡°I know child, but you are of the witching ways, you will find your path as you always have. These times are fearful I understand, but you have a gift that we are all so immensely proud of.¡±


    ¡°Father Timothy told me that the highest-level clergy are trying to use these boxes to release them back into the world is that true?¡±


    ¡°Silence child! Do not speak of what the father told you. Trust no one, not even me, that is your new way of living. These boxes must remain hidden at all costs. Come now let¡¯s get them loaded so you can leave.¡±


    ¡°But Father what about the van?¡±


    ¡°We flattened the tires when they stepped into a cafe this evening, you have a head start on them, this envelope is for you it is from Father Timothy¡±


    ¡°What is it¡± she asked.


    ¡°It is some cash, a couple of prepaid credit cards, and a prepaid cell phone to help you get as far from here as fast as you can.¡±  After they loaded her car she hugged him and then disappeared into the darkness.

 Chapter 5

    In a dark chamber, one of many in the labyrinth of catacombs below the hallowed halls of the Vatican, a clandestine assembly of cloaked figures gathers in secrecy. The air is thick with the smell of soil, mildew, and ancient stone. The flickering light of countless candles casts eerie shadows against the rough-hewn walls. As the group commences their ritual, the chamber reverberates with the primal beat of drums, echoing through the underground room.


    The rhythmic chanting rises and falls, blending with the hypnotic undulations of their dance-like movements. Each gesture is imbued with a fervent devotion, an offering to their unseen master.


    Amid the intensity, a figure steps forward, his voice cutting through the cacophony like a knife. His words command attention, drawing all eyes towards him. His face remains hidden beneath the folds of his hood, yet his presence exudes authority. ¡°This my brothers¡± he proclaims, his voice dripping with conviction ¡°Marks the dawn of our reign on this miserable planet.¡± He said interrupting the ritual. ¡°With the spirits held in the boxes which we will have in our possession soon, we will have the power to destroy any who would stand against our vision.¡±


    ¡°My Lord? What is the situation with the boxes? Have you received a new progress report from our brethren in the States?¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Yes! I have been informed that they have tracked the boxes to an area outside of Salem Massachusetts, they will be intercepting the courier tomorrow night.¡± pausing, he stares at the cloaked and masked figures in front of him. ¡°I have been given a vision, I shall be known, from this time forth as The Blood Pope and you my Cardinals of Chaos will be by my side, destroying this era of weak and subdued people, and bringing about a new humanity taking our lead from the Dark Lord himself.¡± Pausing to collect his next words.


    ¡°However, the next few weeks will be a very demanding time for all of us. We will be tested on our resolve, and some of us will fall, but know that you will be exalted, and revered as a martyr of the cause¡± As applause erupts around them he holds his hand up ushering them to silence.


    ¡°Our contact in Las Vegas told me that she will have the boxes under her control within the next 24 hours, so we need to be ready to initiate our culling of the herd, we will start with Archbishop LaRossa. He is suspicious of our actions as of late, his meddling questions are a threat to our plans. The False Pope Francis VI will remain to the end for our victory sacrifice. The Camerlengo has assured me that he will keep the vial pontiff busy until it is time. As for now we shall continue our rituals and rest in knowing we have won the battle and victory is imminent.¡± With that said they all began the dancing again and the ritual continued well into the next morning.

 Chapter 6

    As we made our way across the bustling tarmac of the Las Vegas Airport, the golden rays of the morning sun cast a warm glow on the gleaming surface of the private jet awaiting us. Upon entering the luxurious interior, a wave of awe washed over me. The plush furnishings exuded an aura of refinement, each surface adorned with meticulous diligence to every detail. As we settled into our seats, the soft embrace of the leather enveloped us, cocooning us in comfort.


    ¡°Clara?¡± Jack asked with a look of astonishment and confusion. How could a modest church in the heart of Las Vegas possibly lay claim to such extravagance, the kind that even CEOs might envy?¡± With a serene smile, she met his gaze, her eyes betraying a hint of mystery veiled behind their depths.


    ¡°Jack I have many things to share with you before we land,¡± Clara said,


    ¡°Things are not adding up, like a priest with the connections to do a background check on me that surpasses the FBI, having the audacity to cancel all my appointments, and sending me off with a stranger in a plane that is only owned by billionaires-it¡¯s all too surreal.¡±


    ¡°I understand how you must feel, Jack, the plane is owned by the Vatican and on loan to us for the work we are about to do.¡± Clara''s voice resonated with empathy.


    Looking out the window as the plane lifts off, his thoughts become more incoherent, ¡°Clara, what is going on, why am I here and what is it that we are supposed to be doing? And no bullshit tell me the truth!¡± He said with a wave of increasing anger. Sitting back in her seat Clara begins to detail the task that we had been assigned,


    ¡°As you know Father Murray has sent us to find the Dybbuk boxes. We are flying to a small town outside of Salem Massachusetts where they were last seen at the auction.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I already understand that Clara! But why is that the only part of the story that is told, I told you no bullshit this time!¡±


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    ¡°Okay Jack,¡± She said in a calm voice ¡°I am working with Father Murray as a special advisor sanctioned by the Vatican. I am a witch trained in the arts of binding, necromancy, and protection magic. We are working together because of your ability and skills to handle, transport, and store cursed objects.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± He almost yelled, ¡°You are a witch? How does a witch become an advisor to the Catholic Church? Would they not consider you the enemy? None of this is making any sense!¡±


    She replied softly ¡°I understand how this can be confusing, during the burning times they killed many people most of whom were only healers, midwives, and widows with desirable lands that the church wanted. In those days, the church was ruled by wicked men who saw only personal gain and political influence. Those days are returning, there are powerful people in the shadows who want to bring about the evil of those times to regain their power and position in the world.¡±


    The mention of the burning times sent a shiver down his spine, the specter of persecution looming large in the recesses of his mind. The atrocities committed in the name of religious zealotry echoed through the annals of history, casting a long shadow over the present.


    Now rubbing his temples, he stated ¡°So we are supposed to collect these boxes from an unknown place, keep them from being taken by unknown people, store them in an unknown location to bring down this unknown evil force, and keep everything known as it is?¡±


    Clara''s lips curled into a wry smile, her eyes alight with a glimmer of amusement amidst the turmoil surrounding them. ¡°Yes Jack that is the mission. However, the clergy we will be going to visit will not be very accommodating as it was their job to hide and protect these boxes.¡±


    ¡°Hold up,¡± he said interrupting her, ¡°Both of you have told me these boxes were sold by mistake at an auction, if they were sold and we are trying to find them then why would the priests there be uncooperative.¡±  Breaking eye contact with him and looking out the window she hesitated to reply. ¡°Clara!¡± He growled.


    ¡°This church has a witch working with them as well, she is the one who ultimately does the workings to trap the demons in the boxes when they find them. It has been brought to our attention that this witch named Gray Raven has fled the area and has not been heard from since the death of Father Timothy, Father Murray feels that she was involved in his untimely death,¡± Again Jack interrupts,


    ¡°Father Murray told me he died of cancer, he mentioned nothing of a possible murder!¡±

 Chapter 7

    After an exhausting two-day journey, Percy finally arrived at the heart of the French Quarter in New Orleans, Louisiana. The streets were alive with the vibrant energy of the city, but to Percy, it felt like a distant hum against the backdrop of her own swirling emotions. As she navigated the winding streets, the scent of magnolias mingled with the dampness of the air, enveloping her senses in a bittersweet embrace. The colorful facades of the buildings seemed to blur together, a kaleidoscope of faded hues that mirrored the haze in Percy''s mind.


    This is the only place where a person of magic and spiritual adeptness can hide in a relatively anonymous manner. Her grief still stinging and the fatigue from the trip has weakened her resolve. She knew she had to find shelter and rest, so she stopped at the only place she trusted. The woman she knew when she was a girl before her parents were killed in a freak car accident. The woman who took care of her and taught her about her abilities, Madame Gabriella Vostick a Voodoo Queen of renowned ability and mentor to hundreds over the years.


    She pushed open the weathered door of the quaint little shop, the bell above jingling softly as she stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of ancient herbs and mysterious potions, wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. She approached the counter, where a figure was hunched over, meticulously arranging the dusty shelves. Without turning around, as if sensing her presence, the woman straightened up, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.


    ¡°Persephone Williams, Gray Raven, where have you been girl?¡±  At hearing her full name, Percy lost all control of her emotions and broke down sobbing uncontrollably. Turning around and quickly walking around the counter Madame Vostick embraces her and then leads her to a back room. Sitting her down in an old wooden rocker she turns to make her tea and to let her calm down and collect herself without speaking.


    As Percy sat in the loving hold of the old rocker, her tears slowly drying upon her cheeks, she found solace in the quiet companionship of the woman who had always been there for her and in that moment, amid the flickering candles and the soft murmur of the city outside, she knew that she was home. Sitting across from her now, quietly sipping her tea Madame Vostick leans forward and gently asks, ¡°What is it child what is troubling you? I can sense you are in danger, there is a terrible evil afoot, please tell me, baby, I may be able to help you.¡±


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    Percy collected herself and began to explain what had transpired the last few days without giving too much detail fearful that it would endanger her only friend. ¡°This was the only place I knew that would be safe for a little while, I don''t want to impose on you by bringing my troubles to your door.¡±


    ¡°That is foolish talk girl¡± Madame Vostick snapped, ¡°You have no trouble that will impose upon me at all. I can feel the evil in the back of your car, we need to find a place to put your cargo, and I know the perfect spot. Go park your car around back and you can stay upstairs with me tonight and in the morning we will go stash your bound friends in the boxes.¡±


    Waking up with a startled jolt, Percy grabs her phone, ¡°It''s 10, I overslept.. shit¡± She rushes to get dressed and heads downstairs to find Madame Vostick dusting the shelves as she normally does every morning for as long as she can remember.


    ¡°Good morning my dear child, how did you sleep?¡±


    ¡°I slept like the dead¡± Percy said with a smirk.


    ¡°I see you¡¯re in better spirits today, that is good. We have a busy day ahead of us.¡± She said with a tiredness in her eyes that Percy had never seen before.


    ¡°Where are we taking the boxes, Madame?¡±


    ¡°Oh child we are going to take them to the only place that I know that they will not be found, we will place them in my family crypt.¡±


    ¡°But Madame!¡± Percy said with urgency, ¡°I would not want to expose your ancestor spirits to such evil company, why would..¡±


    ¡°Calm yourself, child, those spirits there are old and powerful. They will be able to handle the boxes and shield them from anyone else being able to sense them. Come now get some breakfast and we will put them in my car afterward.¡± as Percy sat down to eat she realized how much she had missed Cajun food, after years of bland northeastern cuisine. Once she was done and had several cups of southern coffee she was ready to start the day, they loaded her mentor''s car, locked up the store, and went to the cemetery in the north part of the city.

 Chapter 8

    Slowly a robbed man walks to the ringing telephone, ¡°Yes¡± he exclaims,


    ¡°Your Lordship we have lost track of the witch¡± The weight of failure stagnated the interior of the van.


    ¡°How did you screw up such an easy task?¡± His voice was like gravel, rough and abrasive, cutting through the air with an almost tangible force. Each word dripped with disdain, a venomous indictment of their failure.


    ¡°We had car trouble, two flat tires¡± he stammered, his words stumbling over each other in a desperate attempt to justify their shortcomings.


    ¡°You fools, you were noticed, get to Saint Bethanie church and get those boxes by any means necessary,¡± he bellowed, punctuating his command with a resounding slam of his fist against the desk. The impact reverberated through the phone, a stark reminder of the consequences of failure.


    ¡°Ye-Ye-Yes Sir,¡± said the driver of the van, now sweating profusely. They sped off towards the church. While en route they asked what the situation was, and the driver''s response was curt, his tone laced with ominous overtones. ¡°We are to get the boxes at any cost.¡± He declared.


    ¡°What if they refuse¡± asked the man sitting in the back.


    ¡°Then we will kill them,¡± The driver''s reply was chilling in its simplicity, a stark reminder of the ruthlessness of their task. They had signed on to retrieve the boxes, not to spill blood in the sacred halls of a church.


    ¡°So you will be firing the first shots then I would assume?¡± asked the man in the passenger seat. The driver now looking a little more pale than normal said


    ¡°You guys are the hired gunmen I am just the driver¡±


    ¡°You chicken shit, we did not agree to kill priests, only others who would fight to keep us from the boxes. When we get there you stay in the van, driver, we will get the boxes our way.¡±


    The three gunmen were more than just hired hands; they were low-level mobsters with connections that stretched across continents, their allegiance bound by blood and loyalty. Yet, despite their ties to organized crime, each man harbored a deeply ingrained reverence for their Catholic faith¡ªa reverence that now clashed with the brutality of their intended task.


    In the depths of their souls, they knew that to spill blood within the sanctity of a church would be an unforgivable sin, one that would condemn them to damnation in the eyes of their God and invite the wrath of their criminal overlords. For if their treachery were ever uncovered, their bosses would not hesitate to exact a swift and merciless retribution¡ª not only upon them but upon their loved ones as well.


    45 minutes later they pull into the deserted parking lot of Saint Bethanie Church, two men emerge from the vehicle, their footsteps echoing against the cold pavement like the tolling of a funeral bell. Together, they entered the hallowed halls of the church, their hearts heavy with a sense of foreboding. Before them, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, knelt a solitary figure¡ªa lone priest lost in prayer at the altar.


    The heavy wooden door creaked closed behind the men, its echo reverberating through the vast emptiness of the church''s interior, the solitary figure at the altar stirred, turning to face the unexpected visitors with a warm, welcoming smile.


    ¡°Welcome gentlemen, please come in and have a seat,¡± he said. The men walked in and sat in the pews up front. ¡°What can I do for you?¡± The priest inquired, his expression open and inquisitive, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the candles that lined the altar.


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    "Father," one of the men spoke up, his tone respectful yet tinged with an undercurrent of urgency, "we need you to turn over the boxes that are stored here. We have been asked to pick them up and get them to the Vatican where they will be safe."


    At the mention of the boxes, a furrow creased the priest''s brow, his smile faltering ever so slightly. "Oh," he murmured, a note of concern lacing his words, "may I inquire who asked you to do this, as we were not notified of anyone coming to get them."


    ¡°That is not relevant Father,¡± He declared, his voice a sharp retort, ¡°We WILL be taking those boxes today with or without your permission,¡± he exclaimed.


    With a resigned sigh, the priest bowed his head, his voice heavy with resignation. ¡°Well then I have little choice in the matter, the Lord works in ways unknown to simple humans. Get up and follow me to the basement, that is where we keep those vile creatures.¡±


    With hesitant movements, they rose from their seats, their eyes darting nervously between one another. The flickering glow of the single lantern clutched in the priest''s hand cast eerie shadows upon the stone walls, lending an otherworldly quality to the dimly lit passageway. ¡°Here they are gentlemen,¡± the priest announced, his voice a cold whisper ¡°I caution you though, whatever you do, do not break the wax seals¡±  His tone was grave.


    With trembling hands, they approached the crates, their movements slow and deliberate as they gingerly inspected the wax seals that adorned each one. As they worked in silence, the only sound that filled the basement was the soft shuffle of their footsteps and the distant echo of their labored breaths. The men could not help but wonder what secrets lay hidden within the confines of those wooden crates¡ªand what horrors awaited them should they dare to disturb the delicate balance of the wax seals.


    ¡°What is in these boxes Father and why the seal.¡± the man asked with hesitation.


    The priest, his expression shrouded in shadow, offered a low chuckle in response to the man''s inquiry, the sound mingling with the somber silence of the room like an eerie melody. ¡°Did your criminal bosses not tell you what you are stealing?¡±


    ¡°Um no not really¡± one of the men replied,


    The priest''s expression darkened, his features contorted with a mixture of pity and concern. With a sorrowful shake of his head, he uttered a soft exclamation of disbelief. ¡°Oh goodness,¡± he murmured, ¡°These boxes contain trapped demons, and some are exceptionally nasty.¡± Now visibly sweating and nervous they turn to look at the boxes, the men find themselves paralyzed by indecision, trapped within the suffocating confines of their fear.


    At that moment the priest turns and walks out the door with a resounding bang, he shut the door behind him, the sound reverberating through the room like a death knell as he locked the men inside. In the deafening silence that followed, the men were left alone in the darkness, their minds consumed by the chilling realization that they were now at the mercy of forces far beyond their comprehension.


    As the other priests gathered back in the main hall they decided to call the police to come get the group of disorganized thugs in training, Father Joncy walked out to the van to tell the driver that the others would be out in a little while, that they were having trouble moving the pallets out and to move around to the back lot. The driver furrowed his brow with concern, nodded in understanding, and did as he was instructed, with a muttered acknowledgment, he complied, maneuvering the van through the narrow confines of the parking lot with practiced ease not thinking that there was only one way out, and that he would be trapped if things went off track.


    That became painfully obvious moments later when he saw the police cars roll in. The flashing lights of the police cars cast an eerie glow upon the fa?ade of the church, illuminating the scene with a discarnate hue as they rolled to a stop outside.


    Father Joncy watched from the shadows as the officers emerged from their vehicles, they wasted no time in descending upon the church, their footsteps echoing like a grim procession as they made their way towards the entrance.


    As the officers descended into the basement the cries of protest from the apprehended men reverberated through the stone walls, their voices trembling with fear and desperation as they clung to their tenuous grip on reality.


    "They''re holding demons in the basement!" one of the men exclaimed, his voice tinged with hysteria as he sought to justify their actions. "The Vatican sent us here to retrieve them!" As the officers emerged from the depths of the basement, their expressions grim and unyielding, it became painfully obvious that the facade of innocence could no longer be maintained. The more the apprehended men spoke, the more their claims unraveled into madness, leaving behind only the bitter taste of deception and despair.

 Chapter 9

    ¡°That is true Jack¡± she began, her voice tinged with contempt, ¡°he deliberately concealed his sentiments from you, fearing your inclination to involve the authorities," Her words struck a nerve within him, evoking a sense of deepening mistrust for her and Father Murray.


    ¡°If this was truly a friend of Father Murray then why would he want to keep something like this quiet?¡± He asked.


    Her response carried with it a heavy explanation, "Because within the confines of the Church, matters of this nature are not disclosed to the public until every facet has been meticulously scrutinized, and measures are put in place to mitigate any potential fallout," she said, "It may seem perplexing, even disconcerting, but this has been the modus operandi for centuries¡ªa well-oiled machine aimed at preserving the institution''s integrity, even in the face of adversity."


    As her explanation sank in, he found himself grappling with conflicting emotions¡ªdistrust, disillusionment, and a growing sense of outrage at the systemic corruption that prioritized the institutional preservation of religion over the pursuit of truth and justice.


    ¡°Listen, Clara, I don''t know what is going on, but I am starting to distrust this whole situation, I have been manipulated from the start, and I don''t like it.¡±  His hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white,  ¡°I am not going after a possible murder suspect!¡±


    ¡°You won''t have anything to do with that, your only job is to oversee the handling and shipment of the boxes back to Father Murray that is all. From there you will be finished, nothing more, nothing less.¡±


    ¡°I feel like you people are setting me up, and that the truth is still being hidden.¡±


    ¡°You are being paranoid now Jack,¡± she retorted,  ¡°there is no setup, only babysitting the boxes. Now stop acting like such a pussy and relax we will be landing within the hour.¡± Clara said smugly.


    His intuition was screaming to run the first chance he got, but curiosity would not allow it just yet. Jack needed to know what was going on, and he was damn sure going to find out the whole story. The wheels hit the tarmac with almost no feeling, this was the best damn landing he had ever experienced.


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    As the plane taxied towards its final destination, the small hanger loomed before us, a nondescript structure nestled on the outskirts of the airport. As the plane came to a stop, we disembarked from the plane, stepping out into the cool evening air. Waiting for us was a sleek black Hummer, its polished exterior gleaming in the fading light. A driver stood at the ready, his expression inscrutable beneath the brim of his cap.


    Clara''s instructions cut through the silence like a knife, her voice echoing with authority as she directed the driver toward our next destination. The Saint Bethanie Church, thirty miles north of Salem.


    Jack stole glances out of the window, the passing scenery a blur of darkened trees and abandoned fields, drowning out the sound of Clara''s voice as she attempted to engage him in conversation.


    He couldn''t bring himself to respond, couldn''t force the words past the lump in his throat. Instead, he retreated into the recesses of his mind. As they approached the church, the scene that greeted them was one of chaos and confusion. Police cars lined the street, their flashing lights painting the night sky in a kaleidoscope of colors.


    "What is going on?" She muttered under her breath, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes darted nervously from side to side, searching for answers in the swirling chaos that surrounded us. "I wonder why they were at the church?"


    As the Hummer rolled into the parking lot, the scene before us unfolded like a movie of intrigue. Father Joncy stood amidst a cluster of police officers, his figure silhouetted against the flickering lights of their patrol cars. We watched in silence as Father Joncy concluded his conversation with the last officer on site, his expression was grave and somber. There was a weariness etched into the lines of his face, a burden of responsibility that seemed to weigh heavily upon his shoulders.


    With a nod of gratitude, the officer bid Father Joncy farewell, retreating to the safety of his cruiser. For a moment, he lingered behind the wheel, his gaze fixed upon us with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Then, with a resigned sigh, he turned the key in the ignition and disappeared into the night.


    As Father Joncy turned towards us, his eyes weary but welcoming, Clara stepped forward with a sense of purpose. "Father Joncy?" she called out, her voice echoing through the quiet stillness of the parking lot. "I am Clara Harris, and this is Jack Porter. Father Murray sent us to help with the boxes."


    "Ah, Clara and Jack," he greeted us warmly, his voice warm with gratitude. "Father Murray spoke highly of you both. Welcome to Saint Bethanie Church. We are grateful for your assistance."


    As they followed Father Joncy toward the entrance of the church, a sense of anticipation swirled within Jack. As they stepped through the threshold of the church''s entrance, a wave of cool air washed over them, carrying with it the faint scent of incense and old wood. The interior of the church was bathed in a soft, golden light, casting long shadows across the old walls.

 Chapter 10

    In the dimly lit chamber of the Vatican''s inner sanctum, Cardinal Clemente entered with a reverence that seemed to weigh upon his shoulders. The heavy scent of incense hung thick in the air, mingling with the palpable tension that filled the room. The formidable figure of the Blood Pope sat before him, seated upon a throne-like chair, his gaze piercing from behind his mask as Cardinal Clemente approached, bowing deeply.


    "My Lordship," Clemente''s voice quivered with respect, his tone laden with the gravity of the news he bore, "I come bearing troubling information from the States."


    The Blood Pope''s eyes, sharp as daggers, bore into the Cardinal, demanding answers. "What news do you bring?" His voice, though controlled, hinted at a simmering rage beneath the surface.


    Clemente straightened, swallowing hard before delivering his report. "It grieves me to inform you that our agents tasked with retrieving the sacred boxes have encountered unforeseen obstacles. They have been arrested by the authorities."


    A flicker of irritation crossed the Blood Pope''s features, his hand clenching into a fist upon the armrest of his throne. "No!" His voice cracked like thunder, echoing off the stone walls. "I will not suffer such incompetence any longer."


    A heavy silence descended upon the chamber, broken only by the faint echo of distant footsteps echoing through the halls beyond. The Blood Pope''s gaze bore into Clemente, cold and unwavering. "Cardinal," he spoke, his tone laced with venom, "I charge you with a task of utmost importance. Go to that accursed church and reclaim those boxes. Bring them back to me, by any means necessary."


    Clemente''s heart sank like a stone in his chest, the weight of the Blood Pope''s command pressing down upon him. "But my Lordship," he stammered, his voice trembling with fear, "surely there are others more suited to such a difficult mission. I beg of you."


    The Blood Pope''s patience snapped like a brittle twig. "Nonsense!" His voice boomed, filling the chamber with its authority. "You have been chosen for this task by the highest authority. Disobey me, and you shall be branded as an enemy of the Dark Lord. Now go, before my patience demands me to make an example of you for the others."


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    With a heavy heart, Clemente bowed low, a sense of impending doom settling over him like a shroud. "As you wish, my Lordship," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. With each step he took toward the chamber''s exit, the weight of his fate bore down upon him like a crushing stone. He would embark on this treacherous journey, haunted by the specter of the demon riders that awaited him beyond the horizon.


    In the hushed corridors of the Vatican, Cardinal Clemente''s footsteps echoed softly against the ancient stone. His mind churned with tumultuous thoughts, each step carrying him deeper into the labyrinth of his conflicted conscience. The weight of his clandestine allegiance bore down upon him like iron shackles, threatening to break his body in the vice-like hold.


    "Who in their right mind would be willing to embark on such a damned assignment?" he murmured to himself, the words hanging heavy in the air like a whispered prayer. Fear coiled in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing dread that threatened to consume him from within.


    As he wandered the sacred grounds of the Vatican, the Cardinal''s footsteps faltered, his gaze drifting across the expanse of manicured gardens and towering spires. The guilt of his clandestine alliance gnawed at him like a festering wound, each thought a dagger plunged deep into his soul.


    "There is no one I can trust within the ranks," he confessed aloud, his voice a hoarse whisper that carried on the breeze. "And there is no one outside their grasp that I wish to entangle in their web of deceit."


    The weight of his complicity pressed down upon him, suffocating him with its oppressive presence. He had sworn his allegiance to a blasphemous organization, forsaking the sacred vows of his office in service to a higher divine power. The realization of his betrayal gnawed at him like a ravenous beast.


    "Why did I agree to this?" he lamented, his voice tinged with despair. "I am a Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church, sworn to uphold the sanctity of her teachings. Yet here I stand, complicit in these wicked machinations."


    A hollow emptiness settled over him, leaving him feeling adrift in a sea of moral ambiguity. With each step he took, the weight of his sins bore down upon him threatening to drag him down into the depths of eternal damnation. Alone amidst the grandeur of the Vatican, Cardinal Clemente wandered, a solitary figure adrift in a world of shadows and deceit.

 Chapter 11

    Jack stood in the dimly lit hallway of the church, the weight of the task ahead pressing heavily on his mind. His eyes flickered to Father Joncy, the aging priest whose gentle demeanor contrasted sharply with the darkness of their mission.


    "Father Joncy," Jack''s voice broke the stillness, "I would like to get started on locating where the boxes are so that we can go get them tomorrow."


    The priest turned to face Jack, his expression serene yet burdened. "Come with me to my office, Jack," he said softly, "I will give you the information you need."


    As they made their way to the office, Clara, with hawkish eyes, hovered nearby, watching Jack''s movements with scrutiny. Her presence spoke of a cunning wolf, tracking its next meal. "Miss Harris," Father Joncy addressed her, "if you and your driver would like to make yourselves at home in the kitchen, there is plenty of food. You must be getting hungry."


    Clara''s white teeth shone through her tired smile. "Yes, I am hungry. Thank you, Father," she replied before heading off with the driver.


    Inside the office, the air was heavy with smoke and the smell of old tomes. Father Joncy raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he spoke in hushed tones. "Jack, as you may not know, we have made up the story about pallets that were sold accidentally," he stated, his voice tinged with regret, "however, I will give you the address of the auction house location."


    With an exaggerated nod, Father Joncy passed an envelope to Jack, motioning for him to open it. "Again, we apologize for such an imposition this has been for you," Father Joncy continued, his tone filled with genuine gratitude, "but believe me, we appreciate all the help and cooperation you have given us."


    ¡°Let me bring up the file here, you will have to excuse my slowness, we in the clergy are not how you say tech savvy.¡±


    "That''s quite all right Father." holding up the envelope as if to illustrate his understanding of the theatrical conversation they were having, "I am just now beginning to understand all of what is happening."


    The small office seemed to close in on Jack as he carefully unfolded the letter enclosed in the envelope. His heart pounded against his chest, an audible echo in his ears, caused by the words that unfolded before him. The letter, penned by Father Timothy, bore the weight of urgency and despair.


    "Mr. Porter," the letter began, "we may not meet due to my failing health, but please be assured I am of sound mind at the writing of this letter. You have been deceived and are in danger, I am afraid," the letter continued each sentence a chilling revelation of betrayal. "Father Murray is in on the conspiracy to collect the boxes to get them to the evil ones in the Vatican."


    A shiver ran down Jack''s spine as the truth unfolded before him. "Do not trust anyone but Father Joncy, and the witch they call Gray Raven," the letter warned, "Whatever you do, do not deliver those boxes."


    Jack''s head started to spin as the reality of the situation threatened to overwhelm him. His grip tightened on the letter, his fingers trembling with a mixture of fear and resolve. "You need to take them without the others knowing," the letter urged, "For God''s sake, please keep them hidden, forever."


    The weight of Father Timothy''s plea bore down on Jack, the burden of responsibility a slow poison upon his mind. With a heavy heart, he realized that he had been unwittingly thrust into a deadly game of cat and mouse, with stakes far higher than he could have ever imagined.


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    "I am sorry that you have been duped into this situation," the letter concluded, its words a bitter reminder of the treachery that lurked in the shadows. "But now the stakes are too high for you to walk away. Godspeed, Mr. Porter. Godspeed."


    As the room swayed around him, Jack felt a wave of lightheadedness wash over him. His vision blurred, the edges of reality fading into darkness as the truth of Father Timothy''s words engulfed him.


    ¡°Mr. Porter! Are you ok, do you feel ill?¡± Father Joncy''s voice cut through the fog of Jack''s thoughts, pulling him back from the brink of unconsciousness. The suffocating threat of vomiting and exhaustion threatened to engulf Jack as he stumbled under the weight of his distress.


    ¡°Yes Father,¡± he managed to croak, his voice strained with discomfort, ¡°I am feeling ill, I need to lie down.¡±  With gentle hands, Father Joncy guided Jack to his quarters, the shallow light casting elongated shadows across the worn wooden floor. Jack sank onto the small wool-stuffed mattress, the coolness of the fabric a stark contrast to the fevered heat that consumed him.


    ¡°You lay here awhile I will return with a glass of water.¡± As Jack surrendered to the embrace of sleep, the world around him dissolved into a hazy blur. Time lost all meaning as he drifted into the realm of dreams, his consciousness slipping further and further away. When he awoke, the morning light streamed through the narrow window, casting a golden glow upon the room. Jack''s heart leaped with a start as he realized that he had slept through the night.


    Panic surged through him, driving him to action as he sprang out of bed and rushed out of the room. It only felt as if he had been asleep for a few hours, but it was 7 am the next morning.


    ¡°Father Joncy!¡± Jack''s voice echoed down the hall, urgency laced with a hint of remorse, ¡°I apologize for sleeping so long and taking up your bed.¡±  The priest turned from the computer his expression serene and understanding,


    ¡°Do not worry my son, all is well we have many beds here, so I was just fine.¡± He said.


    ¡°Where is Clara and the driver? They must be pissed that I have slept so long.¡± Jack said in a tenuous voice.


    ¡°I have sent them to a warehouse, or, at least what they think is the auction house,¡± he said matter of factly.


    ¡°I don''t understand Father the letter said..¡±  The Priest lifted his hand and stated,


    ¡°Please Jack follow me, I will give you the answers you need.¡± Together, they descended the creaking stairs, the lantern light casting long, ominous shadows across the worn wooden floor. Jack''s heart pounded in his chest, a sense of foreboding tightening its grip around his throat.


    Standing before the storage door in the basement, a heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the mumbled, sinister voices that seeped through the cracks like strings of darkness. The sound of animalistic growling sent shivers down his spine.


    At that moment, a primal fear gripped Jack''s soul, his blood running cold as he realized the depths of the danger he faced. The priest turned the key, the metallic click echoing through the dark room, and swung the door open, revealing a scene shrouded in eerie silence.


    ¡°Are these the so-called pallets that the auction was supposed to have sold mistakenly?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Jack,¡± the priest''s voice was heavy with regret, his gaze unwavering as he met Jack''s troubled eyes, ¡°These are the pallets. We told Father Murray that they were sold at an auction to buy time.¡± A sense of betrayal gnawed at Jack''s insides as he took in the sight before him. The truth lay bare, a sinister scheme unfolding beneath the guise of innocence. ¡°Gray Raven has taken the worst ones that we had, these are what¡¯s left over. You must get these to a place of safety and secrecy.¡±


    As they stood in the spectral confines of the basement, surrounded by shadows and secrets,  Jack started to ask, ¡°But what about Clara she will..¡± the priest Interrupted. ¡°She was sent to the auction house, who happens to be a devout follower of the church¡± he explained, his words laden with calculated reassurance, ¡°And he will then send her on to another location, giving you time to disappear with the boxes.¡±


    ¡°But Father Murray knows all about my life, and where my collections are stored. There is nowhere I can go after this without his interference.¡± Jack said suddenly realizing the depth of his involvement. ¡°Jack, your life will need to be on hold for maybe a few weeks to possibly a year, until we can secure things on our end¡±


    ¡°You mean the mess that is going on at the Vatican, that could be years Father.  You know as well as I do how those things are covered up which does not guarantee me that no one is going to come looking for me or the boxes in the future.¡±

 Chapter 12

    In the heart of St. Petersburg Square, where the faint whispers of history echo through the cobblestone pathways, Cardinal Clemente sat upon a weathered bench, his silhouette cast against the backdrop of ornate cathedrals and bustling streets. The morning sun cast a soft golden glow upon his solemn countenance as he absently tossed morsels of bread to the flock of pigeons that pecked at the ground around him.


    In this moment of solitary contemplation, the familiar figure of Archbishop Stephen LaRosa emerged from the throng of passersby. With measured steps, he approached his longtime friend, his presence a comforting beacon amidst the Cardinal''s inner turmoil.


    ¡°May I sit with you, my friend?¡±  Archbishop LaRosa''s voice, rich with warmth and concern


    ¡°Yes, please do Stephen. How have you been, it has been a while since we have last spoken.¡±


    ¡°I am well Xavier,¡± Archbishop LaRosa responded, taking a seat beside the Cardinal. His keen gaze, honed by years of wisdom and experience, saw through the facade of composure that Cardinal Clemente struggled to maintain. ¡°If I may ask, why do you look so forlorn, like you carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders,¡±


    Cardinal Clemente''s shoulders sagged imperceptibly, a silent admission of the burden he bore. "Stephen, I am struggling," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I find myself at odds with my conscience. I fear that I have strayed from the path of righteousness, that I have compromised my beliefs in pursuit of worldly matters."


    Archbishop Stephen LaRosa, ever the stalwart confidant, listened attentively, his brow furrowed with concern as he sought to offer solace to his friend. ¡°Why not turn your back to these issues and find comfort in the Lord?¡± A wistful sigh escaped Cardinal Clemente''s lips as he shook his head slowly. ¡°I will need more assistance to remove myself from this matter, anyways enough of my worldly problems. Please tell me about your doings, how is your sister? Well I hope, and of your work in South America?¡±


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    Archbishop LaRosa''s features softened as he spoke of his beloved sister, a flicker of pride dancing in his eyes. ¡°My sister is doing well, at least the last time we talked. She was helping a priest with his church activities in Massachusetts. It is a relief to hear that she is not following a pagan life any longer, and the work with The Order of St. Michael''s is particularly challenging, to say the least.¡±  ¡°


    Cardinal Clemente, intrigued by this unfamiliar aspect of his friend''s life, leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "I am not familiar with that order. What is it that they do?"


    ¡°We perform exorcisms in South America, all the villages that we receive reports on possessions and infestations from.¡± Wide-eyed, the Cardinal swallowed hard and cleared his throat. ¡°That must be a challenging task, possibly a monumental one. Are you getting confirmed cases, that these poor people are possessed?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we are, many of them are possessed with much more infestations than in history. That is why I am here at the Vatican, to report to the Pope on the dire situation, I have never seen anything like this. It is almost like hell has opened up and the evil is spreading like ants.¡±


    Cardinal Clemente''s brow furrowed with concern as he absorbed the gravity of Archbishop LaRosa''s report. ¡°My Lord this is very concerning news, I hope and pray you will be able to overcome this dismal situation.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, my friend,¡± Archbishop LaRosa replied, his expression a mixture of gratitude and determination. ¡°Well, enough of this macabre talk. I must hurry along now, please my friend if you need to talk call me anytime, day or night.¡±


    ¡°I will thank you, my friend, Godspeed to you.¡±  After a short embrace, the Archbishop set off to meet the Pope, leaving Cardinal Clemente alone to ponder the news. His doubts, fears, and misgivings are all starting to swell in his mind. Knowing what he has done will make doing what he has to do even more difficult. He turned and quickly walked away heading to the sanctuary of the basilica.

 Chapter 13

    Chapter 13


    Clara and her driver arrive at the auction house, they enter the front lobby area and tell the receptionist that they are from St. Bethanie Church and that Father Joncy had sent them to figure out where the missing boxes had been sent to. ¡°Oh ok we have been expecting you, let me go get the manager and he will come out and get you.¡± said the receptionist.


    ¡°Thank you very much.¡± Clara said, and the driver Matt Connelly spoke


    ¡°How is it that Porter was all of a sudden too sick to be here, and why is that priest Joncy so concerned?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± she snapped ¡°Just because you want to sit your ass in the truck all day? Or maybe Jack is not as tough as he looks! Or maybe it is the priest''s job to be concerned for others! Either way, you are being paid to help so that is what you will do when I need it.¡±  Rolling his eyes and taking a seat he thought to himself ¡°I can''t stand these people, I need to go back to the old-school security companies, where we could get things done without the niceties getting in the way.¡±


    The Manager opened a side door to their right and asked them to come in. Following him down a long hallway and out into the warehouse to another set of stairs that lead up to his loft office. Opening the door for them he said, ¡°Please have a seat, I have been looking through all the past sales of this month and I have narrowed down the list to two sales that they could have been sold at.¡±  Clara asked, ¡°How would these items have been sold by accident, were they not cataloged properly.¡±


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    ¡°The pallets had gotten set next to two lots, our staff, unaware of the delivery had loaded them out with the rest of the sold pallets. From there they went to one of two purchasers. I have called both multiple times but have not received any return calls or texts. I fear that they realized they got a bonus and don''t want to give it back.¡±


    ¡°Where is the location of the people who bought them?¡± Clara asked as she pulled out her phone. ¡°One is close, a small thrift store they are located in New Brunswick New Jersey, and the other is in Billings Montana I believe that one is a larger online seller.¡±


    ¡°Crap!¡± exclaimed Clara, ¡°Well give me the address for the one in Jersey, we can get there tonight and make contact with the owner in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Again I apologize for this gross incompetence on our part, if there is anything I can do to help from here please call,¡± He said with the prize-winning confidence of a top actor.


    ¡°I will be calling in the morning when we talk to the owner of the pallets so they can verify with you that we are not trying to rip them off,¡± Clara said with a hint of irritation.


    Clara looks to the driver and motions for them to leave, once in the Hummer the driver asks about going back to get Jack. Clara replied, ¡°No he can stay there I will send for him if he is needed, if he is sick he will only slow things down.¡±


    ¡°As you command!¡± said the driver as he pulled the blacked-out SUV out onto the highway.

 Chapter 14

    As the car rolled to a stop in front of the St. Rochs cemetery, Percy''s senses were immediately inundated with an array of sights, sounds, and sensations that seemed to emanate from behind the imposing gates. The air was thick with the musty scent of decaying leaves and damp earth, intermingled with the faint aroma of incense from nearby memorials. The distant sound of crows cawing overhead added to the eerie atmosphere, their calls echoing through the silent grounds.


    The Gothic-style chapel, its spires reaching towards the sky, dominated the center of the cemetery, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch out and envelop everything in a cloak of darkness. Despite its imposing presence, there was a sense of quiet reverence that permeated the air, as if the very stones themselves whispered tales of sorrow and loss accumulated over centuries.


    As Percy and Madame Vostick stepped out of the car and retrieved the bags of boxes from the trunk, the weight of their task hung heavy in the air. Percy hesitated as they approached the wrought iron gates, a sense of foreboding creeping over her like a chill down her spine. She stopped abruptly, startled by an unseen force that seemed to pull at her, urging her to turn back.


    Madame Vostick''s stern voice broke through Percy¡¯s trance, snapping her back to reality. "Now Percy, I know I taught you better than that," she admonished, her tone tinged with impatience. "What''s the problem, child?"


    Percy struggled to articulate the unease that gripped her, a vague sense of dread that clawed at her insides. "It''s... it''s a feeling," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "A presence that wants me to leave."


    Madame Vostick''s expression softened slightly, her eyes reflecting understanding. "Well, of course," she replied, her voice gentler now. "Did you think the spirits would welcome you with open arms, bringing these... thugs into their home?"


    Percy shook her head, her earlier naivety now replaced with a dawning realization. "No, I suppose not," she murmured, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I didn''t even consider that aspect of this."


    As they pushed open the heavy gates and stepped into the cemetery, Percy couldn''t shake the feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes following their every move. The ground felt uneven and unstable, the earth soft and yielding beneath the weight of their footsteps. She shivered involuntarily, a chill wind sweeping through the graveyard and carrying with it the whispers of the dead.


    As they stepped into the eerie stillness of the Vostick family crypt, Percy couldn''t shake the feeling of unease that settled over her like a heavy shroud. The air inside was thick with the scent of ancient stone and the musty odor of decay, mingled with the faint aroma of incense still lingering from their earlier preparations. The dim light cast flickering shadows against the walls, dancing eerily in the corners of the cramped space.


    Madame Vostick''s voice, though soft, seemed to echo unnaturally in the confined chamber, a reassurance amidst the oppressive atmosphere. "Come now, child, we have work to do," she said, her words carrying the weight of centuries-old wisdom. "Don''t worry, the ancestors will keep the rest away from us as soon as we step in."


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    Percy nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she set about arranging the ritual tools on the cold stone floor. The texture of the ancient stones beneath her fingertips was rough and uneven, each one bearing the witness of countless generations of the departed.


    With the circle drawn and the candles flickering to life, Percy felt a sense of purpose wash over her, a fleeting moment of clarity amidst the chaos of her thoughts. Together, she and Madame Vostick began the solemn task of binding the boxes to the earth of the crypt, their movements methodical and precise.


    As they worked, Percy couldn''t shake the feeling of being watched, the sensation of unseen eyes boring into her from the darkness beyond. She shivered involuntarily, a chill running down her spine as she poured her energy and will into the ritual.


    With the last of the sigils painted on the door in saltwater blessed by the chapel''s priest, Percy felt a sense of relief wash over her, the weight of the world momentarily lifted from her shoulders. As they locked the door behind them and stepped back out into the fading light of day, she couldn''t help but feel a twinge of melancholy tugging at her heart.


    Madame Vostick noticed Percy¡¯s troubled expression and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What''s troubling you, my sweet girl?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.


    Percy sighed, her gaze dropping to the ground as she struggled to find the words. "I''m a train wreck, Madame," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "My life has been full of darkness and pain for so long. I miss my parents, I''ve lost too many friends... and the worst part is, I have to keep lying to my brother about it all."


    Madame Vostick''s expression softened, her eyes reflecting understanding. "You don''t have to carry this burden alone, my dear," she said gently, squeezing Percy¡¯s shoulder reassuringly. "We''ll get through this together."


    As Percy stood in the fading light outside the crypt, a sense of loss settled over her like a thick fog, enveloping her in a cocoon of sorrow and regret. The setting sun cast long shadows across the cemetery, painting the tombstones in hues of orange and gold. The air was still, save for the distant sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and the faint echo of church bells tolling in the distance.


    Madame Vostick''s words, though comforting, only served to deepen the ache in Percy¡¯s heart. The depth of her grief felt tangible, like a physical burden pressing down on her shoulders. She could almost taste the bitterness of her sorrow, a bitter tang that lingered on her tongue like the memory of tears.


    "Oh, my poor baby girl," Madame Vostick murmured, her voice soft with sympathy. "These things are forever. The pain you carry, I cannot lie, will hurt until your dying day."


    Percy nodded, her throat tight with emotion. The texture of her tears, hot and salty against her cheeks, served as a stark reminder of the depth of her anguish. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.


    "You must know in your soul that the work you do is for the benefit of many, many people," Madame Vostick continued her words like a beacon of light in the darkness. "I am so proud of you for the work you do, sweet girl."


    "Thank you, Madame," Percy replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot to me."


    Madame Vostick''s question about Percy¡¯s brother brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. "He''s doing well," she answered, her voice tinged with sadness. "He''s down in South America, doing the same thing I am up here."


    As they turned and walked away from the cemetery, Percy couldn''t help but feel a sense of longing for her brother, a pang of homesickness that gnawed at her insides. For now, she pushed aside her sorrow, focusing instead on the warmth of Madame Vostick''s hand in hers, and the promise of a simple meal shared with a dear friend.

 Chapter 15

    Jack wiped the sweat from his brow as he slid the final box into the back of the rental van, the heavy cardboard scraping against the metal floor. The distant murmur of traffic permeated the air, a constant reminder of the bustling world outside the confines of the church. It was a world that never paused, always pressing forward. As Father Joncy approached, his footsteps echoed softly against the pavement as he shuffled, his outstretched arm bearing an envelope. It was reminiscent of the one he had given Percy before her departure, containing the same essentials - cash, prepaid cards, and a brief note from Father Timothy. Nestled within the envelope was also an EMF bag, and a prepaid cell phone, a lifeline to connect Jack to the outside world beyond the church''s sanctuary.


    Jack furrowed his brow, confusion evident in his expression as he glanced at the cell phone in Father Joncy''s hand. "Why do I need another cell phone, Father?" he asked, his tone laced with concern. Father Joncy met Jack''s gaze with a somber expression. "You will need to turn your phone off and place it into the EMF bag so that it cannot be tracked until these boxes are hidden and you are far from them," he explained, his voice carrying a hint of regret. A frown tugged at the corners of Jack''s lips as he processed the Father''s words. "Father, can I ask you a question and get an honest answer?" Jack''s voice held a note of seriousness as he sought clarification.


    ¡°Yes, Jack what is your question?¡±


    Jack''s voice trembled slightly as he voiced his concern. ¡°Am I in danger, I mean is my life in jeopardy?¡± He asked feeling as if he should not know that answer.


    Father Joncy''s gaze softened with empathy, his response measured ¡°I feel you may be in danger Jack, how serious it is I cannot say with any accuracy. However, I would presume these people will do anything they can to get these boxes back so I would consider death a possibility.¡±  He looked at Jack with sorrow in his heart, knowing he may never see him alive again.


    ¡°Ok, thank you for being straightforward with your answer.¡± He said with a lonely smile on his face,


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    Just then Jack''s phone rang in his back pocket, he turned pale as he saw the caller ID, ¡°Father Murray!¡± he exclaimed and looked at Father Joncy. ¡°Father Murray, is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Well maybe Jack, I spoke to Clara, and she said you stayed behind instead of going to the auction house due to illness?¡±


    ¡°Yes Father that is correct, I had taken ill, and they went to verify the location of the buyer and will send for me when they have an address.¡±


    Father Murray''s tone grew stern. ¡°Very well, Jack, I don''t like the idea of you splitting up, this is very important, and I will not accept any errors.¡±


    ¡°Well you know I am volunteering my time if I so choose I can quit at any time!¡± he retorted, a hint of defiance in his voice.


    ¡°Yes that is true,¡±  Father Murray''s voice crackled through the phone, his words dripping with authority. ¡°However, those boxes are more important than your life so stay the course, and do not disappoint me. I will be in contact in a day or so, goodbye Jack¡± The phone abruptly disconnects, Jack is now furious who the hell does this guy think he is, he thought to himself,


    ¡°He is not my boss, and I don''t owe him a damn thing!¡± He shouted.


    ¡°Jack, this proves your earlier question.¡±  Father Joncy''s voice quivered with concern. ¡°I would absolutely say you are in danger, you must leave quickly.¡± Father Joncy''s urgency spurred Jack into action, but a wave of apprehension washed over him.


    ¡°Father what happens when Clara comes back and I am not here, she will report that to Father Murray and there may be trouble for you here,¡± Jack said impatiently.


    A flicker of amusement crossed Father Joncy''s face as he considered the predicament. ¡°I will tell her you rented a car and went home, that a phone call with Father Murray went wrong and you were angered and left.¡±  The priest said with a wry grin.


    Jack nodded, grateful for Father Joncy''s quick thinking. ¡°That might work for a brief time, but it is the best and only idea that I can think of at the moment.¡± He said.


    ¡°Thank you Father Joncy, for all you have told me and your honesty.¡± With genuine warmth, Jack extended his arms, pulling Father Joncy into a tight embrace.


    ¡°Go with God my son.¡±  Jack then turned, climbed into the van, and drove off down the road not knowing where he was going or how this would work out. He quickly grabbed his phone turned it off and put it in the bag, switched on the burner phone that Father Joncy gave him, and thought how his future may have just been cut very short.

 Chapter 16

    In the dimly lit Chapel of St. Sebastian, Cardinal Clemente knelt before the altar, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows upon the ornate walls. His hands trembled as he clasped them together in fervent prayer, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions.


    The weight of his involvement with a clandestine group of men bore down upon him. He knew that continuing to aid them in their plan to raise the evil one would lead to his downfall, yet the thick fingers of fear gripped his heart, whispering of the dire consequences that awaited him should he attempt to sever ties with them.


    ¡°Oh lord guide me,¡± he beseeched, his voice a desperate plea echoing in the silent chapel. ¡°Steer me away from the evil rising, take me on the correct path. I beg you to bring forth the righteous people who can end this. It is in your heavenly name that I pray, Amen.¡± Now sitting he starts to search his mind for who may be willing to travel with him, someone from outside the group, someone who will understand what needs to be done, someone who has no fear or knowledge of the men in the group.


    As he rose from his knees, a sense of desolation settled upon him. His mind raced, searching for a solution to his predicament. But with each passing moment, the realization grew more profound ¨C he was trapped, ensnared in a web of evil from which there seemed no escape.


    ¡°No one!¡± he said out loud, ¡°No one would want to go without an explanation of why such a long voyage must be made. I cannot speak of it to anyone, I am at a loss.¡± His gaze drifted upwards to the intricate mosaic adorning the chapel''s dome, seeking solace in its divine beauty. Just then he notices a man in a cassock sitting to his right a few rows back. ¡°I am sorry Father, my troubles would not have been so loud had I thought that I was alone.¡± He stated, looking at the ground with embarrassment and fear.


    ¡°No apologies are necessary Cardinal, we all come to the chapels to vent our fears and frustrations with daily life. My name is Father Tobias Ratcliff, I am visiting the Vatican before I head back to the States,¡±  he said.


    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you Father, I am Cardinal Xavier Clemente. Your Cassock looks familiar, but I am coming up short on the name of the order.¡± The Cardinal said drifting off.


    ¡°I am with the Society of Jesus, Your Excellency.¡±  This sparked an idea in the Cardinal''s mind, he was headed back to the States, maybe this would be the perfect travel companion he thought.


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    ¡°If I may so bold Father, when are you due to leave for the States?¡±  He asked,


    ¡°I will be leaving in two days, why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°I have to travel there as well, would you like to accompany me to the States in one of the Vatican''s private planes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Excellency I would very much like to travel back with you!¡±


    ¡°Excellent then I will arrange the flight, and we will leave in two days¡±


    ¡°Thank you so much for inviting me, I have heard that the planes used by the Vatican are very nice!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father they are very comfortable for such a long flight. Meet me at the statue in St. Petersburg Square on Thursday 7 am sharp and we will go from there.¡±


    ¡°I will be there your excellency again thank you.¡±


    Later that night Cardinal Clemente donned his black featureless mask and entered the old stairway leading down to the secret ritual room, as he approached the chamber doors he could hear some of the men talking to the Blood Pope.


    ¡°I want you men to kill Archbishop LaRosa, then travel to Las Vegas and bring Father Murray back here, and kill the man named Jack Porter. He is the one Father Murray hired to find the boxes.¡±


    The cardinal knocked loudly on the chamber doors and the men fell silent, he entered and reported to the Blood Pope that his travel arrangements had been made, and he would be departing Thursday morning.


    ¡°Excellent Cardinal, I am glad to hear of this. I was starting to feel as if you were having second thoughts about our plans to bring greatness back to this world.¡±  Now starting to shake, he is, without question, sure that he has made a horrible mistake.


    ¡°No, my Lord I am just averse to making such a long trip alone. I have however found another traveling to the States who will accompany me to alleviate the issue.¡±  He said still shaking, hoping the pounding of his heart did not show through his robes.


    ¡°Very well then go and get those boxes back here as quickly as possible.¡± He said.


    ¡°Yes my Lord I shall not fail you!¡±  He turned and quickly walked away taking off the mask as he headed back up the stairs to the ground level. Thinking this is as close to hell as he ever wants to be.


    The two meet at the square Thursday morning and take a limo to the airport where the plane has been fueled and is ready to take off. ¡°Father Tobias, I have something that I need to talk about, a sort of confessional if you will. Perhaps during the flight, we can talk, and I can get your opinion on what I should do about the issue that has been troubling me so very deeply?¡±  He said with much sorrow in his voice.


    ¡°Yes, Your Excellency. However, I can assist you, I will do my best to give wise counsel for you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Father, now let us relax for a while and rest.¡±