The first seal, p.19
The First Seal, page 19
part #1 of The Apocalypse Prophecies Series
“Home Secretary,” the voice of Sir David said.
“You have news for me?”
“Yes. Because of the nature of yesterday’s incident, we were able to expedite the forensics examination of the bodies. As Detective Inspector Cooke suspected, the person we seek has killed before.”
“Are we any closer to learning their identity?”
“Maybe,” said Sir David. “Do you remember the Russian Prizrak program?” Prizrak, meaning ghost. The Russians had managed to infiltrate western systems to make their agents invisible. It was a crude affair, uncovered after several high-ranking Russian defectors had been slaughtered on British streets. The images of Russian agents were scrubbed from all surveillance recordings. As the video feeds were being written to storage, a virus scrubbed the images it was programmed to scrub, writing over the pixels with an approximation based on the available background data. It left blotchy images on occasion, which was how it had been spotted.
“You think our assassin is using similar?”
“My analysts seem to think so. We have them hunting through the systems trying to find the code that could allow this to occur.”
“When do you expect to have a breakthrough?”
“Well, it took us three months to uncover the Russian code that had been hacked into our system.”
“I don’t have three months, Sir David.” Her frustrations were breaking through. She knew it. Maybe she would need to find some way to relieve the pressure that was building after all.
“You also asked me to look into that rumour.”
“Good. What did you find?”
“Nothing. I checked with SIS, and they have no knowledge of such an organisation. I don’t know where you remember seeing such information, Home Secretary, but it wasn’t from us.” Fuck.
“That’s disappointing. Still, I’m more certain than ever that my memory isn’t playing tricks on me. Could you put a request in with our allies? See if they know anything.”
“As you wish, Home Secretary.” Baal knew it would be more important than ever now to capture one of the Inquisition. If they could be made to talk…
“Thank you,” Baal said, almost choking on the words. Such pointless formalities these monkeys went through.
“I’ve asked GCHQ to work on the virus problem.”
“You don’t sound hopeful, Sir David.” I want to rip your heart out.
“It’s just a matter of time. If there is a program similar to the one the Russians infected our system with, we’ll find it.” Yes, but not in time, Baal seethed. How the hell was she going to be able to capture an Inquisitor if they were ghosts?
***
Lilith walked the streets, blending in with the world around her. The air was crisp, the side alleys dark and filled with the hidden malice that could so easily be lurking. Even with her skill, there was no need to take unnecessary risk. It would be painfully ironic for her to survive the demonic hordes only to become the victim of criminal violence.
There were those amongst the people she worked to protect who weren’t worthy of that protection. Lilith had long ago accepted that. They were all God’s creatures nonetheless.
She went to where the people were, because she knew the possessed would be drawn there also. Lilith’s advantage was that she could remain invisible to their eyes whilst the enemy would let itself be known to her through the nature of its infection.
Some demons liked to stalk their prey, toying with it, building up to the act of slaughter. Others acted impulsively, murdering those around them. Humans were more than capable of committing acts of savagery and barbarity, but more and more Lilith sensed the manipulation of those from the Pit. There was a certain pattern left by those the demons killed. Many were children, prolonged torture being a particular favourite of these depraved beings.
They killed adults as well, usually in a way that created maximum emotional impact to the world.
Several of the recent terrorist attacks were good examples. Those who proclaimed to be acting on the will of whatever God drove them had demons whispering in their ears. That was another way the unclean influenced the world. Some they could possess. Others they could drive to acts that the majority would think insane. All supposedly random.
Or was it? Lilith still felt much of the recent activity was coordinated, planned, almost surgical in its application.
The more she thought this, the more she became obsessed with the hunt. The streets drew her, a religious vigilante forever on the lookout for those who threatened humanity. There was the addiction as well, her growing craving to send this scourge back to where they came from. In her moments of meditation, she would admit that she enjoyed the battle against the Beast a little too much.
She didn’t see it as a problem, though. Maybe she should have.
Despite it being late, the Queens Walk was still busy, tourists drawn to the river with its restaurants and bars that stayed open to fulfil their mindless consumer cravings. Most of the people here were too consumed with their own lives to see the threats presented to them. Before she saw the demon, Lilith had clocked the members of the gang picking bags and pockets. Many a tourist would later uncover the horrifying realisation that their purse or wallet had been lifted.
There were other dangers here, too. Up on Westminster Bridge, the pair on the moped that had passed her on the road earlier were clearly looking for something more substantial to steal, the police spread too thin to have any chance of stopping them. Down side streets, away from the glare of the ever-present cameras were the drug peddlers concealed in doorways, ready to slip a plastic wrap into the hand carrying the right amount of cash. Death often waited in those tiny envelopes, the promised pleasure defiled by chemicals human physiology was never designed to imbibe.
Cockroaches of humanity slipping through the cracks.
The civility this pedestrian area displayed was a lie, a veneer over the sickness that permeated the lives of so many. Lilith saw it all, and knew that she remained invulnerable to it. As long as she kept her wits about her, the sheep were no threat to her.
Out here in the open like this, the criminals would not bother her. They knew who to go for, their acquired sixth sense keeping them clear of someone who walked with such purpose, whose eyes scanned the surroundings so thoroughly. Only the meek and the distracted were targets here. Elsewhere it would be different. On the lawless estates, and the lesser travelled areas, those who defied the nation’s laws might try their luck. But not here. Here, the criminals needed the mask of normality to exist for them to succeed.
They needed to be the rarity for their actions to be successful. It was the same with the demons. Too many of them spread throughout the herd and they risked fighting amongst themselves. Worse than that, they risked the world becoming aware of them. There would be a time for that, but hopefully now was not that time.
The one she spotted was hanging out at the top of the Westminster Bridge steps that led down to the Queens Walk. She didn’t react to his presence. Instead she walked closer to the base of the steps, watching his aura from the corner of her peripheral vision. To normal folk he was a well-dressed businessman engaged in a phone conversation, but to Lilith he was an abomination that needed to be removed from the surface of the planet.
Could she do that here, though? Taking the battle to him in such a large crowd and so publicly might lead to open battle in the streets. It was a risk, but the urge within her tried to convince Lilith to take that risk. Instead, she pressed the small notch on the side of her sunglasses. Inside the frame, the tiny zoom lens video camera began recording. Stopping at a safe distance, she briefly looked directly towards him, capturing the images of his face. If the body he inhabited was on any commercial or government database, she would have that identity within hours of returning to her accommodation. That was her backup, in case what she planned didn’t bear fruit.
The demon watched those who wandered past, oblivious to his own danger. He hid the delight well, but she knew he was here to pick a victim, savouring every soul that came within reach. He was the watcher, unaware that the slayer had arrived on the scene.
A woman walked right by him and the demon’s blackness reached out to her as if in an invisible caress. A thin smile spread over the demon’s face, and, pushing himself off the ancient stonework he had propped himself against, followed his new found prey as she made her way down the steps. Lilith knew if she didn’t act, that woman would not survive the night.
It looked like opportunity had presented itself after all, forced by the need to protect the vulnerable. Lilith knew that to wait would mean the death of another innocent. On any other day she might have been willing to accept that. But not today. She had already failed once, and the thought of another death gnawed at her. Was it really failure that drove her, though? Could it be she was denying the thing she had come to crave?
Whatever the reason, she would take the demon on the steps.
The woman Lilith was about to save descended from Westminster Bridge, the demon about ten metres behind. He had the scent of his prey and it wasn’t likely he would lose her in the crowd. Lilith closed the distance, stepping up to meet the demon without looking at him, the sharpest of her blades slipping into her right hand. The scarf had already been slipped across the lower half of her face, protection against the night’s chill.
Lilith had practiced this a thousand times.
She brushed against the demon who gave her an annoyed glance before the pain in his leg hit him. Her knife had slipped in unseen, penetrating the area of the upper thigh called the femoral triangle, slicing open the femoral artery, her wrist twisting so as to prevent a clean surgical wound. In this part of the city with first responder response times what they were, it wasn’t definite that such an injury would result in death. Paramedics could arrive in time; miracles could happen.
That was why her knife had an extra little bonus. Aqua Tofana, a deadly poison that was slow to work but impossible to cure. Should the demon be unlucky enough to survive the cut she had administered, it could look forward to a slow and excruciating end unless it chose to abandon its host and venture back down to the dark place.
Lilith reached the top of the steps before the demon fell, his body cascading down the steps, doing more damage to the host body. Screams followed him, those nearby having no idea why such a well-dressed man had suddenly collapsed in their midst. Lilith’s only regret was that she wasn’t there to see his end.
Her job was once again done and Lilith stalked off into the night. She knew she had no fear of the surveillance cameras monitoring the area. But this was a rare occasion where she had made a mistake. She did not see the two tourists, one with her phone held out in front of her. The city’s eyes might not have spotted her, but that tourist’s video recorder did.
34.
Silicon Valley, USA
Tiredness had threatened to take him, but Stone held it at bay. His accommodation was not only a world class library. There were shower and toilet facilities as well as a well-stocked kitchen and a bedroom. He had everything he needed to keep him alive except freedom and the feeling of fresh air on his skin.
Not knowing where he was felt somehow liberating. His imprisonment and pending death had been surprisingly empowering. The everyday things that had been bothering him no longer seemed worthy of his concern. Being here, in this place, took all that away. There was suddenly no worry about his bank balance, or his Amazon sales rank. The fact that he sometimes felt lonely and inadequate around women was stripped from his mind.
As amazing as it was, he felt alive for the first time in years.
What replaced his banal existence was a primal urge to survive as well as a longing for the knowledge that was contained around him. His kidnapping was a curse, but the scholar in him could also see the blessing and the opportunity. He was about to learn things that had been hidden from him, that would always have been outside his ability to discover. What he had access to made his heart ache.
He was finally free to discover the knowledge he had always craved.
The book he presently read was a first edition published in 1801. Whilst he had come across it before, what he had read had never been the original. He was drawn in by the intricate illustrations, time slipping by unseen. That was the other thing with this room. There were no time pieces, no means for him to tell whether it was night or day. Although he had a computer tablet, that too had been stripped of any indication of the passing of time, its purpose solely to hold the digital version of the books he would need to create his great manuscript. There was nothing else to occupy his time except the fragile contents of his own mind.
Stone didn’t need time to think about this. He had already decided to accept Horn’s proposal. All he needed to know was exactly what kind of book he was supposed to be writing.
The door to his lavish cell opened and a man walked in. The fact that people came in here alone highlighted how powerless Stone was to fight his circumstances. The people who had captured him were rich, powerful and totally confident. Stone had a vague awareness of who Horn was, as the billionaire’s name occasionally appeared in the news that Stone did his best to ignore. He was one lonely author against the owners of a multinational company that clearly had its own army. Escape wasn’t going to be on the cards.
“I trust you are settling in?” the man asked.
“Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Kane. I am here to introduce myself. I hope you have everything you need?”
Stone almost went into a sarcastic tirade, but there was a predatory nature that seemed to lurk below the surface of this person that stopped him. Instinct said this was not a man to antagonise. “I am still unsure as to what my mission is, here.”
“Your mission is to do as my master bids.” Kane sat down right next to Stone. Positioned as he was at the end of the luxurious sofa, there was no way for the author to move up any further. Standing would be the only way to escape Kane’s proximity, but he knew that would be a mistake. Kane was here to show him something. Likely to further prove how powerless Stone knew he already was. “It is also to keep me happy.”
“Do you have to sit so close?”
“Always,” Kane said, inhaling deeply. “I can smell the fear on you. But there is something else, an arousal in your soul.” A strong hand descended on Stone’s shoulder. “Do I have to tell you how unwise it will be to make Mr Horn unhappy?”
“I don’t think you do, no.”
“This is good,” Kane said, giving the shoulder he held a painful squeeze. The fingers felt like iron, working into the flesh. Enough to make Stone wince, but not severe enough to cause any lasting harm. “You are still confused as to why you are here.”
“Yes,” Stone admitted.
“I shall help with that. It is important to me that Mr Horn gets what he wishes.”
“Look, I get it. I’m committed.”
“I don’t think you do get it,” Kane advised. He let go of the shoulder, his hand landing on Stone’s leg. Stone realised he preferred the pain than what this implied. “I don’t think you get it at all.”
“You should let me get on with my work,” Stone begged. “There is so much I need to read.”
“Not until you understand.” The hand in Stone’s lap didn’t move, a dead weight resting on his thigh. “You need to look at me now.”
“I’m…”
“I said, look at me.” The order was matched by Kane’s fingers once again finding purchase, digging deep into the meat of Stone’s leg. Though it brought forth a cry, Stone did as he was commanded. At first, he didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at, and then the whites of Kane’s eyes turned pitch black.
“My God!”
“Do you understand?”
“No,” Stone admitted. “Please, I don’t know what you want.” Is he possessed? The eyes looking at him returned to normal, and Kane rose from where he had sat. Instead of saying anything more, the possessed man wandered over to the furthest reach of the book cases and, after several seconds of searching, pulled a book free. It looked surprisingly modern.
“You need to be fully committed to the task ahead of you. For now, I advise you to read as many of these great works as you can. Spend your every waking moment devouring what is on these shelves.” I was doing that, Stone wanted to say. Kane once again approached, the book held out in front of him. “May I recommend you start with this impressive tome. It will give you an indication of who your new owner truly is.”
“This makes no sense,” Stone protested. When he didn’t take the offered book, Kane placed it carefully down next to him. Surprise caused him to yelp as Kane lightly slapped the author’s face.
“Do not fail Mr Horn, or else you will learn what I am truly capable of. You do not want me practicing my art on you.” Stone didn’t say anything. Instead he watched as the owner of the sometimes-black eyes stood there, panic rising. Had that been a trick? No, of course it hadn’t. Looking down at the book, Stone really wasn’t surprised by the title.
The Antichrist, by Nietzsche.
“I don’t understand.” Maybe that wasn’t the truth. Maybe he understood very well, but he tried to hide that fact even from his own mind.
“I think a demonstration is required then. An expression of what I am willing to do to ensure your compliance.” Stone sank back as Kane fell on him, the skin of his chin burning with the pressure being exerted by the one-handed grip applied. Despite his best efforts, Kane was too strong to fight off, a knee perilously close to ruining Stone’s future relationships. They paused like that for several seconds, Stone pinned to the couch with the passive-faced Kane above him.
