“Mordecai, since you ditched your minder, you must’ve
found something that was worth disobeying my order. What did your little Greek
have to say?” Balzeer must get past his irritation at their juvenile antics and
focus.
“Nothing, sir. He was dead.” Mordecai had
underestimated Balzeer. He had believed his power was only bureaucratic. Now
looking about him, he saw the brilliance of the room.
“How had he passed away?” Balzeer cherished his
underling’s discomfort. “Did you ask him?” Balzeer’s patience did not
cooperate. It was attempting to rebel against the stupidity of coaxing answers
from Mordecai.
“No, sir, I did not have the time. I was in the
process of attempting it when you brought me here,” he replied.
“Then bring the meat here, Shroud Keeper,” the
Supreme Tribunal ordered.
There was a sharp sound of imploding air, which
knocked both Mordecai and Mossy to the ground. They landed on top of the
remains of John Haggios. With a few choice murmurs and waves of Balzeer’s
hands, the other had joined their discussion.
“Haggios, who ended your life?” Balzeer was happy
that he had control over this dead. Whatever he asked was to be answered
truthfully.
“I don’t know. He strangled me from behind, so I
never saw him.” The voice had no expression; it escaped past dry lips in a
monotone.
“Did you find the Redeemer? Did you see him?” Flinty
words were thrown at the dead Haggios.
“Yes. He was born to a Catholic couple, Jose and Maria
Savourez. As prophesized, the mother died giving birth to the boy.” Haggios
faced straight ahead, staring at his questioner.
“And why didn’t you bring him to us?” The question
was implicit and demanding.
“I was going to when I was killed. I wanted to bring
glory to myself and rise in our ranks by bringing him into our fold.”
“But you failed.” Balzeer’s abrupt interruption
brought Haggios up short. “Why didn’t you tell Mordecai, your superior, about
this?”
“He would have taken it from me. I would’ve lost the
reward to him.”
“Anything you do is mine to take, fool!” Mordecai
lashed out, hurt that a lover would do this to him.
“Silence!” The words stung like a whip. Both Mossy
and Mordecai cringed. “When I want some input from you, I’ll tell you.” Balzeer
then returned his attention to Haggios. “Then you were to come to me. Now we
have lost our Redeemer, though we had come so close to bringing him where he
belongs.”
“You would’ve taken him from me as well. Then you
would have killed me.” His lack of inflection lent finality to the statement.
“Yes, that’s probably true, but we would now have
him! Do you understand? It is not simply your glory, rather ours! We would now
be raising him and molding him to his birthright. Who knows where is now?”
Balzeer was indignant they had come so close to their goal, despite the change
in the prophecy.
“I don’t know…”
“I know you don’t, it’s a rhetorical question! Send
this fool back to the cold ground, Shroud Keeper. Get him out of my sight,” he
said as he dismissed him to his damnation.
All who followed the devil’s path in life did so
because they thirsted for power and fear. They might get these things, but once
they left the mortal coil, they became the playthings of true evil, untainted
by human desire. Those who dwelt in the pits committed evil deeds because
inflicting pain brought them pleasure, and sustained them. Souls, unfortunate
enough to be sent to the depths of hell, became the playthings of the hellish
inhabitants. Those born in the pits knew and loved their depths; only their
master longed to leave, for he once knew other delights.
Finally, the animated corpse was gone — once
again banished to the pits. Standing before Balzeer were the two incompetent
men too frightened to breathe. He reveled in their discomfort as he
contemplated their fate. Mordecai’s failings were due to over ambition for
Balzeer’s place. He had risen through their ranks, leaving them decimated
killing anyone who opposed him. Balzeer only killed those who failed him. Any
opposition, if competent, was too valuable to the organization to be destroyed.
Mordecai, however, lost sight of their true purpose, to elevate their master’s
cause on earth.
Mossy, on the other hand, had proven true
incompetence. He rose through the ranks by taking advantage of others work. He
had no true ambition, save for ease of life for which he never worked.
He achieved his station on the backs,
and through the efforts, of whomever he happened to be aligned. Had the trip to
Brazil been successful, he would’ve taken full credit, even though he failed to
keep Mordecai in sight, losing him at the first opportunity.
After this short period of contemplation, the choices
were obvious.
“Mossy, you need correction. This organization
requires that everyone must contribute. You may not simply go through the
motions, stealing the hard work of others.” Balzeer walked the few paces
between them. “Remove your clothes and go to the far wall.”
Mossy did as commanded, all the while quivering with
terror. With halting steps, he walked to the far wall. He turned, noting that
Balzeer was holding wooden stakes in each of his hands. The sleeves of his
black sweater had crept past his wrists and revealed tattoos, which glowed
brightly against his white skin and the black fabric.
“Mordecai, you will do exactly as I tell you. Go and
spread Mossy’s arms against the wall.”
Mordecai did as was told, watching Mossy’s
barely-contained terror and pain.
“No, not both arms at once, first the right. Hold it
out with both hands.” Mordecai felt a rush of air, followed by a
thunk
sound. Impossibly, the wood had
penetrated the stone. The surprise in Mordecai’s eyes did not match the
surprise, which registered in Mossy’s bulging pupils. Mossy’s breath came in
sputtering gasps as he attempted to keep his remaining dignity. Despite the
pain, he did not want to cry out. He certainly would not face the universe of
agony, threatening to overwhelm him. Instead, he stared accusingly into
Mordecai’s eyes. He knew that this was his fault. If he had followed orders,
and if they had stayed together, this would not be happening.
“Now for the left. Don’t worry, my aim is supreme.”
Mossy’s eyes were now closed. He could not bear the
impending addition to the pain that already consumed him. Mordecai held out the
left arm and the same sound and rush of air followed, barely seconds after he
positioned the target. He even felt the wood quivering, just above his hands.
“Now, come here. This correction will soon be over.
Well, not quite for you, Mossy. You’ll stay there until you’ve learned your
lesson.”
Mordecai walked forward to stand beside his master.
Here in this room, Balzeer was a god. He had access to powers, unlike any
Mordecai had ever seen.
“Shroud Keeper, be gone. Go make yourself whole again
and remember what I require of you.”
At Balzeer’s command, the infant disappeared. As it
left, Mordecai felt a chill run up his spine. Mossy’s impalement had taken
place outside the protection of the pentagram. All the while, he was at the
creature’s mercy; only Balzeer’s hold kept him from being dragged down into the
hellish depths. That apprehension dwarfed the earlier fear that the stakes
holding Mossy to the stone wall could have impaled both of them.
“Mossy, soon enough you will be brought back to your
current station. Do not despair; only remember this pain as a lesson to add
value to this organization, rather than merely taking up space.” Balzeer
motioned for Mordecai to come closer.
“Mordecai, come. We have much to do.”
After he whispered a few incantations under his
breath, they emerged in the main library. One second Mordecai was looking at
Balzeer’s torture chamber, the next; he saw the same chamber, practically
duplicated in the massive mantles. Mordecai had always believed that they were
mere ornaments to suit Balzeer’s whimsy and to inspire dread in all those who
viewed them.
“Mordecai, I’ve known for quite some time that you
have been disobeying my orders. Today, it was blatant.” Balzeer’s voice was
like flint. He could manipulate any word for his desired effect. He could charm
a baby from its mother, instigate suicide or frighten murderers into service.
“Non-conformity is expected. The awful thing is that
you don’t have the tact to be discreet with your deviancies.” Balzeer’s left
arm arched up from his thigh and he backhanded Mordecai across the mouth. His
face turned in the direction of the blow, but he did not stumble back. It had
not been a powerful blow, it was merely meant to humble him.
“I understand that one day, you hope to be Supreme
Tribunal. I commend your ambition.” The right hand came up with more momentum,
and this time, he knocked Mordecai back a step.
“It is how every one of us has risen through the
ranks. Your lack of proper secrecy is the crime here because if you are to one
day rule you must deceive the world. You can’t even lie convincingly to me.”
Once again, he struck Mordecai across the cheek. More slaps followed, each hand
alternating as the lecture on Mordecai’s failure continued. It was humiliating
to be sermonized, all the while smacked like an errant dog.
“You must become far more adept. Everyone who has
ruled has done so by wresting power. It has never been given up willingly.”
There was another openhanded blow; he was not worthy of a closed fist.
“If you cannot fool me, how will you be able to lead
our church? You have failed your lessons. How do you expect to serve our
Nobility?” Mordecai had taken too many blows without a response. He looked up
after the latest smack and his eyes shone with defiance. Balzeer saw it and
motioned, instead of another clout.
Mordecai’s defiance halted. He did not know if
Balzeer truly meant for him to come forward — if Balzeer wanted to
reconcile. To his confusion, Mordecai felt strong hands take hold of his arms.
His head whipped left and right and all he saw were black hooded shapes, three
on either side, wrestling him toward one of the couches.
“The consequences of failure, for most in our order,
are along the lines of what Mossy received. However, yours will be more
personal.” The figures forced Mordecai to bend over the couch. He felt more
hands clasp his ankles, switching from his arms to his feet. They pulled his
pants down to his knees and he felt his bare buttocks exposed. He was unable to
move. He could do nothing but squirm in the human shackles.
“Balzeer, don’t let them do this. I’ll never forgive
you for this. I promise you that.” Mordecai was screaming as he jerked his head
from side to side, trying to see if anyone was taking position behind him.
“Forgiveness is not included in our vocabulary,
Mordecai. That is a trait of the Supreme Weakling. Scream and bellow all you
want; I don’t care. Your continued belligerence is further proof that this is
the proper punishment. Mordecai, it’s for your own good. We need a strong and
proper leadership.”
“You’re right, Balzeer. You’re right I will do
whatever you require. I will do everything that you want.”
“Oh, I know you will, Mordecai, I know.”
Mordecai felt a hand rest on the exposed small of his
back. He heard a zipper and felt a fleshy protrusion enter his backside.
“Believe me, Mordecai, this is not easy for me.”
Balzeer’s voice came in grunts as he jerked his hips forward in short bursts.
“I much prefer women to men, but you must be put in
line. Your defiance must be channeled, and this is the best way for you to
remember.”
These sensations were not new to Mordecai. Unlike
Balzeer, he preferred men to women. However, this was unlike either. He yelled
at each stroke and continued to struggle, though to no avail.
“Stop fighting, Mordecai. Your continued obstinacy only
makes this worse. I planned to be the only one to assault you, but you need
much more correction.” Balzeer’s voice continued to come in short gasps and
grunts. “Each of these, who now force you into submission, will further their
efforts in that regard. They will continue your subjugation by each taking
turns, for as long as required, until you become a good little soldier.”
Balzeer ceased his efforts and came around to face Mordecai.
“I cannot end this. The enchantment, which gave me
this erection, cannot allow me finish. The others, however, will be able to, as
often as needed.” At this, another took his place behind Mordecai. The
intrusion forced him forward, despite his restraints. This assailant was
thrusting with more enthusiasm. He did not grunt, but bellowed in an almost
inhuman manner.
“They all have quite uncanny stamina. You’ll see.”
“Ugh, oooh, oooh, ugh. Balzeer, please, ugh. Stop
this. I’ll do anything you want, oooh, ugh. Anything.” Mordecai implored.
“Yes, I know that you want to, but this will continue
until I know, without assurances, that you will.”
TIME: OCTOBER 31ST, 1962. SOMEWHERE IN BRAZIL
Kosta reached forward and took the dark green aviator
glasses from the dashboard. The sun was just coming up and hit him squarely in
the eyes. The glasses, alone, did not offer enough protection, so he also
lowered his sun visor. Seconds later, he lowered the visor on the passenger’s
side, an unconscious gesture of protection for the sleeping Antichrist. His
thoughts turned to those whom he had killed in Sao Paolo.