The Second Seal Page 5

  “I thought I already was.”

  “So, first question. What is your name?” And so it begins, thought Lilith. Assuming Veronica wasn’t exaggerating her skills, this would be the ultimate test. The one Lilith was trained for.

  “You have a lot to do before I tell you that.”

  “Good,” Veronica said happily. “I do so hate it when they break early.”

  9.

  Inquisitor training camp 13 years ago

  “You must learn to endure pain,” Father told them. Lilith let her peripheral vision scan the teenagers gathered around her. She saw no signs of nervousness or hesitation. “Many of the faithful punish themselves to prove their devotion. It is a reminder that all life is suffering.” In the years she had been here, it was rare for her to go a day without some sort of pain. If the priests weren’t beating them, then it was the stretching and the exercise. Even the temperature of the environment was used against them constantly. To the world at large it would be child abuse, but to Lilith it was necessary devotion.

  “How much pain can a body endure?” Lucien asked.

  “A sensible question,” Father said approvingly. “It is not so much the body that endures though. Instead it is the mind. The trained mind can cope with the harshest pain. That is what you will be learning over the next few days.” They had not yet been instructed to start the daily mortification process.

  They were outside, the warmth of the afternoon sun starting to fade as the shadows lengthened. In the centre of the parade square, a wooden horse had been placed, four loops attached. The children had come out to find it there, their thoughts drifting to its unusual presence as the day had progressed.

  “The body can fail from lethal wounds, but the body can also die if the mind gives up. Your minds must be steel. You must learn the lessons of endurance through fire, ice and blood. We cannot do this for you. Instead you must practice this on each other. Form yourself into pairs.”

  Lilith and Lucien found themselves next to each other, as they often did. Their eyes briefly met, their rivalry one of mutual respect.

  “The torture you may face in your future will be for one of two reasons. The first may be as a means to extract information from you. Only the most skilled torturer can succeed against a trained Inquisitor in this regard. Remember, Inquisitors do not quit. We do not surrender and we do not dishonour our oaths. For whom do we serve?”

  “The Lord our God,” the children said.

  Father removed the jacket he wore, one of the priests stepping up to take it. The priest stayed whilst Father unbuttoned and removed his shirt. Lilith had never before seen him topless, and the scars of dozens of battles would be chilling to some. Not to Lilith. It was proof Father knew what he was talking about. He had sacrificed so much, as they would all be expected to do.

  “The second reason for torture is the pursuit of pure sadism. This is what our foe engages in, both in the Pit and here on Earth. Should you fall from God’s grace, do not think your training here will help you after being cast to the dark place. What you learn here today will only aid you in the mortal realm.”

  “Will we ever be called on to torture the non-possessed?” Lilith asked.

  “No,” said Father. Lilith was glad at that. She knew her own mind, the revenge that claimed its place there. It would be so easy for her battle against the darkness to send her along a path of self-destruction.

  “The second type of torture will be without end, without purpose except to inflict pain. The first type will follow rules, many countries outlawing the practice. However, most of those rules are not there to protect you, but to protect the effectiveness of the techniques used. Too much pain can cause a mind to disassociate from the body, or for an individual to faint. The human body can protect the conscious owner from the worst horrors. Some people find they forget the torture inflicted upon them, the memory striking such torments as if they never happened. Your training will remove such luxuries from you.”

  Lilith’s own memory hadn’t worked like that. She still vividly remembered what the demon had done to her. It fuelled her, creating a ruthlessness and a devotion to her new way of life that could only be described as fanatical.

  “The first enemy you face will be your own desire to hope for some sort of salvation. If you are taken, know that there may be no rescue. You cannot rely on the actions of others in such scenarios. Inquisitors protect and defend their own, but you must abandon any expectation of rescue. The only thing that will save you is yourself and your own stubbornness.”

  Father looked directly at Lilith and Lucien then. They were the only two remaining students in this class who had been rescued from the outside world. The message to them was clear. Lilith had been saved once, but she couldn’t rely on it happening again.

  “Your enemy can beat you. They can starve you. They can prevent you from sleeping and can force you to stand in uncomfortable positions for hours on end. They can try and strip you of your dignity all in the hope of breaking your mind whilst preserving your sanity. They can inject you with chemicals and make you endure extreme temperatures. Your job is to persist as long as you can. And if you cannot endure, if you feel betrayal is on the cards, then you must forfeit your lives.” Father stepped down from the wooden podium he was on. “Such methods to end your miserable existence will come in later years. Suicide is considered a sin, but not if you are protecting the integrity of the Inquisition.” Better to die a martyr than reveal what you know about the most secret of Orders.

  Father walked through the huddled children, the group parting to let him pass. They watched as he stepped over to the wooden horse, pressing his chest down onto it. Turning his head, he looked at the children.

  “I do this so you know what it is to be an Inquisitor. You will stand there and watch, and you will remain there when my ordeal is done. Tonight, you will stand there, unwatered and unfed. The waste you produce will run down your legs and you will not complain.” The largest of the priests stepped to the side of him, a bamboo cane wielded in his thick fist. Nobody missed the bucket of salt that had been left by the side of the horse. “Tomorrow we will see what you have learnt.” With that, the priest brought the cane down hard on Father’s back. The sound of its impact ricocheted around the courtyard.

  The beating went on for an hour, and not a single sound escaped Father’s lips. Around his feet lay the shattered remnants of over a dozen canes.

  10.

  Slough, UK

  Vicky’s father was old, but still capable of looking after a nine-year-old child. With Emily reluctant to attend school, Vicky had figured her own father might be able to help get to the bottom of the mystery of why her daughter held such fear for a teacher that had always seemed excellent.

  The case of Damien was also taking up more of her time than she had expected, so putting Emily with her grandfather killed another bird with the same stone. Because James Ralph lived close by, it was no hardship for Emily to be dropped off there. It was certainly no hardship to James, the old man normally finding untold delight in the playful antics of his granddaughter. Like any typical grandfather, James dotted on Emily, excelling at the role.

  Health wise, James was still as fit as an ox. He also had a respectful acceptance of the way Vicky was raising her daughter now that her husband had died. Unlike many father-in-laws, James had liked the man who had married his daughter, knowing him to be the kind of man who would die protecting the people he loved. Even though he was a devoted Catholic, James refused to impose his religion on others, especially young minds like Emily’s. It had always been his belief that finding God was a personal journey that shouldn’t be influenced by external forces.

  “Can I have more ice cream, Grandad?” Emily begged. They were in the kitchen of James’ semi-detached house, the roar of the airplanes above tempered by the triple glazing he had been forced to install.

  “I’m sure your dentist would love that,” James joked. “Any more and your teeth will be filled with so man
y holes he’d be able to buy a new car.”

  “I don’t need teeth to eat ice cream,” Emily insisted.

  “Oh, is that right?”

  “Yes. I can lick it straight out of the bowl.” Emily was certain she could somehow persuade her granddad to provide another serving. This, despite the fact he had never before given her more than one.

  “And what will your mother say when she finds out?”

  “I won’t tell her. It can be our secret.”

  “Until the dentist tells her about all the holes.” James slowly drew the empty bowl away from Emily. She looked at it longingly, the delights that could have filled it once again denied her.

  “My dentist wouldn’t tell on me.” He was far too nice to do something like that.

  “Yes, he would. That’s his job.”

  “Hmff, maybe I’ll bribe him.”

  “Give it up, kid. You ain’t getting anymore.”

  “Can I watch TV then?” This would be an adequate substitute.

  “Of course, you can.” Emily jumped from the chair with a silent cheer and ran off into the living room. James watched her go, a frown forming across his brow. Vicky had told him everything that was happening and had asked him to try and help get to the bottom of things. So far, his subtle questions hadn’t been able to break through Emily’s reluctance to speak about things the child felt were best kept secret.

  The missing boy, Simon, still hadn’t been found as far as James knew. Why his disappearance had affected Emily so adversely nobody could understand. It seemed to be only Emily who mentioned the true danger her teacher represented. Because the police had still to release the details, few people were aware Simon’s mother had been found dead in her bedroom. The father hadn’t been on the scene for several years and had emigrated abroad.

  Fortunately, whatever Emily was going through hadn’t totally consumed her in melancholy. She was still lively and cheerful most of the time, James doing his best to keep her mind occupied. It was good to have a child and laughter in the house. When his own wife had died five years previously, he hadn’t realised how important such things would be to him.

  Life could give as much as it could take. You had to try and live through the bad and cherish the blessings. Some days, it was so hard.

  The sound of the key in his front door brightened him. It was always good to see his daughter. Her footsteps echoed through the hall, and then Vicky was beside him. He’d not heard her car pull up, but then his hearing was missing a lot of things these days. His daughter cuddled into him.

  “How is she, Dad?”

  “She’s doing okay. She had her tea and she tried to badger more ice cream out of me.”

  “That’s good. Unless you…” Vicky was strict with the sugar intake.

  “Don’t worry. An old soldier like me isn’t going to die on that hill. What about you?”

  “This new case,” Vicky replied, referring to Damien. “It’s creeping me out.”

  “I’m not surprised, considering what he’s done.” The press had reported on the news of Damien’s arrest and the crimes he was suspected of. Nothing about his alter ego had been mentioned, fortunately.

  “No, it’s more than that. He knows how to get under your skin.”

  “You can always turn the case down.” James had lived long enough to understand the important things in life.

  “I’ve actually considered that.”

  “Did you talk to the school?”

  “Yes, I went first thing this morning. The headmistress was shocked. Nobody can understand what’s happening. Dad, if this goes on, we might need to put Emily through the pupil referral unit.” That meant getting social workers involved, and might involve Emily being moved from her school.

  “I’m sure everything will be sorted.” Neither of them spotted Emily, who had heard her mother’s voice and had crept into the kitchen to surprise her. Only now, Emily stood in the doorway which led to the living room, her face a mask of horror.

  “Mum…”

  Vicky turned. “Hello honey.”

  “Mum…” Emily started crying.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Vicky stepped towards her, only for Emily to back up.

  “No, not you.” Vicky wasn’t aware there was a faint shimmer of darkness hugging her skin. Emily collapsed to the floor, the world too much for her. When Vicky tried to gather her up, the child started screaming. “No, no, no,” was all Emily seemed able to say.

  11.

  New York, USA

  Adam Aron sat patiently. In diplomatic circles, he held an important position as the Israeli Ambassador to the United Nations. This gave him a life of prestige and privilege he intended to enjoy until such time as he was replaced. Even with his advanced years, his health was good and he was well respected both by those in his own government and the diplomats he met frequently in his work. In his time at the UN he had made great strides in protecting the interests of the Jewish state.

  What many didn’t know was he was also a member of Mossad, the Israeli secret intelligence organisation. And he had a mission today, to send a message to the Iranians who were now on the brink of all-out war with their southern neighbours.

  Adam wasn’t surprised the Iranian representative was keeping him waiting. At first, Adam’s request for a meeting had been refused, Iran not recognising the legitimacy of Israel. But Adam had persisted, explaining through intermediaries it would be in the Iranians’ best interests to hear what he had to say.

  Alone in the small conference room, he sipped at his coffee and let the time go by while he waited for his belligerent counterparts to turn up.

  When the Iranians finally arrived, Adam’s opposite number entered last behind a trio of underlings. Adam didn’t rise to greet them. Instead he kept a steely gaze on them as the four men sat at the far end of the table.

  “Why do you waste my time?” the Iranian Ambassador finally said. Adam knew he could ignore the other three men. There would be no reason for them to speak.

  “I have a message from my government.”

  “You have no government,” the Iranian countered, obviously pleased with his insult.

  “The message is simple, but needs to be delivered face-to-face.”

  “Why?” demanded the Iranian. “It distresses me that I’m having to breathe the same air as you. I feel tainted.” Adam had never had a cordial relationship with this adversary.

  “I have been asked to tell you it is time for Iran to stop funding the enemies of Israel.” For decades, Iran had been funding and arming Hamas, the militant and political Palestinian organisation. They also funded Hezbollah which acted as a proxy army for Iran and Syria. Based in Lebanon, Hezbollah was considered by many to have an armed strength of nearly fifty thousand men if reservists were counted.

  “More Zionist lies,” the Iranian blustered.

  “There’s little point denying it,” Adam pointed out. It was hardly a secret.

  “I don’t have time for this.” The Iranian stood, his entourage rising with him.

  “Please, you still haven’t heard my message.” Adam couldn’t help smiling at the hatred on display. He would love to one day play poker against this man. The Iranian was new, a political appointee rather than a seasoned diplomat to replace the previous ambassador who had fallen ill with cancer a year back. Now that man was a worthy adversary, Adam reminded himself.

  “Say your words and be done with it.”

  “Ten times,” Adam said.

  “What?”

  “Ten times. Any attack on Israel by you, your representatives or any terrorist group will be returned on Iran ten times.”

  “Are you threatening us?” The Iranian seemed genuinely outraged.

  “Yes,” said Adam. “You have entered into a war you cannot win. We would prefer to stay out of it.”

  “There is no war,” the Iranian insisted.

  “Your burning oil infrastructure says different.”

  “Enough of this.” The Iranian headed f
or the door.

  “Tell your leaders. If you attack us, we will hit back. If your puppets in the West Bank and Gaza strip hit us, we will hit back. If Hezbollah rain rockets down on us, we shall wreak such havoc on your military infrastructure as to make your God weep.” There was no denying Adam meant what he said.

  The Iranians left without another word.

  Mossad had received compelling evidence that Hezbollah was planning a sustained assault against Israel over the coming weeks. Hopefully, the threat now delivered would stop that. And if it didn’t, well with most of the Middle East on fire, the activities of Israel would barely be noticed.

  Adam had meant what he said. Israel would defend itself by any means necessary. And the Jewish state had a few cards up its sleeve of which the Iranians were blissfully unaware.

  12.

  Silicon Valley, USA

  The depression he was falling into failed to consume him, the books saving his sanity if not his soul. That was a shame when you thought about it. If he wasn’t allowed the release of death, then madness was the next best thing. Stone wasn’t to be lucky on that count, either.

  The books were fascinating. When he immersed himself in them, they brought his mind to life. They were filled with depictions of angelic victories as well as the ultimate agony Hell represented. Although they had been written by men, Stone now looked on them with fresh eyes. When you knew demons were in fact real, it made you wonder who had been the author of all these great works.

  If it was God, why had he made his message so obscure? Whilst the faithful would proclaim he should believe, Stone had always had a problem with blind, unquestioning faith. Now he had to put all those doubts to one side and start again for he had a task he knew he couldn’t fail at. Not if he wanted to avoid what Kane had promised. It didn’t help that he still didn’t know how to start. If this was to be an account of what was occurring, then he would need more information than he had been given here.

  Stone was so engrossed that he didn’t realise someone had walked into his prison until they spoke.