The Second Coming (3 page)

“
Come with me, heretic. You are summoned to the Pope.” The
guard pointed his spear at him. “Mind your tongue.”

John said
nothing, knowing his words would be wasted on one such as this, and
followed quietly, winking at Miguel as he stepped into the
passageway.

Soft
torchlight lit the moss-covered corridors, the sound of the guard's
polished black shoes clacking on the stone floor. Bells chimed in
the distance, but their music was muted by the stone depths in
which they walked. Numerous cells lay open, all with decaying
wooden doors and empty since long before the Shift.

Only his was
occupied.

They wound
through the stone maze, John and the guard stooping often to avoid
the sheer tapestries of spider web.

Finally, after
climbing an aged stairwell, they reached ground level, and John
covered his eyes from the bright glare of daylight.

He stopped to
let the sun's rays warm his soul.

Something
sharp poked him from behind.

“
Keep moving.”

They
continued, and when they reached the abbey Miguel and the guard
knelt to gesture the sign of the cross before they turned and left
him. The iron doors closed with a heavy clank.

John made no
such signs of piety and strode amidst the rows of wooden pews
towards the pulpit, the floorboards creaking with every step. The
Pope waited for him, alone.

“
Your Holiness,” John said, standing to face one of the most
powerful leaders in the new world. He could imagine what she must
have looked like in her youth. Even with white hair and the fine
lines that adorned her face, she was stunning. She stood tall for a
woman, almost rivaling him in stature. The Pope was garbed in a
white robe, her hair spilling over it. She held out her hand to
which he feigned a kiss, his lips not quite touching the emerald
ring.

“
I want to hear your heresy,” she said as he faced her. Her
voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. It was painted with vivid
images of the Archangel Gabriel.

John gazed
upon the wings that adorned the angel’s frame, pristine and white,
and wondered how much more in this world he would discover was a
lie.

“
The cardinal seems to think it is not for your
ears.”

Her round eyes
hinted annoyance. “Cardinal Aloysius is an overambitious fool who
cares for nothing but his own advancement.”

He reserved
his opinion, yet his lips formed a smug curve.

“
I am a politician, and have attained this position by
learning how to read people and their motives. I am sure you have
heard otherwise, but give me more credit than that. I am the second
woman to sit in this position since the Shift ripped the world
apart. It has not been an easy road. Now,” she said, sizing him up.
“I want your truth.”

“
Why have you come all this way? Cardinal Aloysius, in all his
wisdom, saw fit to have me removed to this place where only some
patient brethren would ignore my words. Then, when he knew you were
coming to the very place he banished me, he had me placed in the
furthest depths of the monastery.”

She held her
hand aloft and mouthed an incantation he did not hear. The doors
and shutters swung closed. Scars were made visible as her sleeve
slithered down her pale arm. They were old wounds.

Bloodcraft.

The Pope
lowered her arm and adjusted her sleeve with a curt tug. For the
briefest hint of a moment, he caught fear flitting across her
eyes.

She leaned in
to whisper. “He is coming.”

John
swallowed. “Who?”

“
Do not play coy with me. I did not come this far to bandy
words with an idiot. The Second Coming is upon us.”

“
I suppose you know who I am.” He shifted where he stood, and
the cherry floor groaned under his weight.

She smiled.
There was no mirth there. “I know what lies within that darkened
heart of yours. I also know what will happen to the person that
orders your death. Your soul is cursed. That’s why I’ve let you
live.”

He stared,
offering her nothing, yet he smiled inwardly.

Cursed indeed
.

Anyone who had
anything to do with his death would suffer for all eternity.

“
I knew of your blasphemy and did not contest the cardinal's
decision to put you away. There is too much at risk to let you run
around spouting your so-called truth. I come here now to ask what
you know. And when you are finished, I have an errand for
you.”

He masked his
intrigue. “An errand?”

“
Hoofed and horned, we believe he is loose upon the world once
more, maybe even in physical form.” She paused. “You're going to
find him.”

“
How?”

“
Beings of great power are being summoned, but to where we do
not yet know. My sources have been unable to penetrate this secret
calling. They’ve all gone mad in the attempt. We know only that it
is being called by someone high in the echelons of the
Fallen.”

“
And what am I supposed to do when I learn of this
summoning?”

“
You will attend.” She paused, and lowered her voice to a near
whisper, “And you will kill him.”

He refrained
from commenting on the futility of the request. John’s command of
the dead was limited at best, although there were other powers in
this world, and ways to negotiate with the unliving.

“
You must know by now that my gifts are
inadequate.”

She nodded.
“But your blackened soul is the only one that may be able to get
close enough without suspicion.”

“
And how will this deed be done?”

From the
pulpit she pulled out a shroud-wrapped object. It was about the
length of his forearm. She peeled back the layers of delicate cloth
to reveal a sharp metal object. John knew it the moment he saw
it.

“
The Spear of Destiny,” he muttered.

“
It will be the only thing that can draw his soul from his
body. Once it is done we can imprison his spirit and keep the world
safe for a thousand years. You will have only one chance.” She
studied him as he ran his fingers along the length of the
spearhead.

He nodded as
her logic revealed itself to him. “And if I cannot kill him, then
my own death will be a blight upon his soul.”

There was
cunning acknowledgement in her eye. “Now, what will it be,
assassin? I want to know what you know.”

John pondered
his options. Go on a treacherous hunt that would likely result in
his own death or remain under the cardinal's watchful eye. His
decision was quick and concise, so he motioned her closer, opened
his mouth, and spouted truth from the sacrilegious fountain of his
soul.

Paine opened a
collection of parchment and papers that were bound loosely with
thinning twine and shoddy leather. He found the odd assortment
under the floorboards just after the voices in the mirror came to
him. He did not know its origins and chose not to tell his parents
they had it. The grimoire’s discovery would have likely done more
than merely upset them. There were quotes by someone named Cyprian
of Antioch, but if that man was the author, Paine did not know.
What he did know was that had his parents caught them practicing
the bloodcraft that lay within its brittle pages, Gwen would have
had them flayed, skinned, and hung.

The fact their
children were different from others never rested well with his
parents. It was part of a heritage Paine never fully understood.
They spoke little of his birth mother. All Paine siphoned from them
was that she could no longer care for Paine and Lya. And the two
were reminded often that they were not Gwen and Charles’ seed.

He handed the
book to his sister and stepped outside of the barn. He feared his
parents might come around the bend at any moment, but smirked as
they lounged in the hammock under the old beech.

Perfect.

Paine looked
back to Lya. With her pale fingers she delicately flipped each
page. It amazed him that her features were so different from his
own. Although not identical twins, he expected some resemblance.
Where Paine’s features were subtle and ordinary, his sister’s face
was inimitable; her slanted eyebrows, pallid complexion, and strong
cheekbones were unlike anyone he knew. The only feature the two
siblings shared was the shape of their slightly snubbed noses and
round eyes — and those seemed more coincidental than anything.

She caught him
staring at her and squinted her annoyance. “I’m not sure if there’s
anything in here. Most of this is about how to call upon different
souls, heal an injury, or how to summon a rainstorm. It’s the usual
— summoning, bloodcraft, and divination.”

Paine scuffed
his feet along the dry ground. The buckthorn and black willows that
littered the farm had long folded up their dried leaves in a prayer
for water.

“
Rain would be good.”

“
That requires bat’s blood. You got any?”

If he did have
a bat, she would take it from him and slice its throat without
asking. She was a little eager, but he supposed that bat would be
just as dead at his own hands. It was the price of the craft.

Blood
.

Paine shook
his head. “Keep looking. I want to know what that Reverend is up
to.”

A screech
caught his attention. A nondescript, dappled falcon stared at him;
its only distinguishing quality was the missing appendage on its
left foot. Lya had healed the injured bird three years back and the
two had been inseparable since. She could sense Talon’s thoughts, a
skill Paine did not possess.

He scowled at
it.

The fucking
bird hated him.

His sister
continued to thumb through the pages, scanning each one. “Wait,
there’s a divination that might work. You can spy on the object of
your affection. You still got that knife Billy gave you?”

Paine shuffled
over to the wall where he left it stabbed into the wood, thrust
there in anger when he learned that Billy had succumbed to Lya’s
charms. What rankled him was not that she had beguiled him. Billy
Chapman was merely a lustful proclivity; nothing more. What got
under his skin was that Paine had to use a potion to have his way
with Billy where Lya could seduce the boy with a few choice words;
an enchantment. And she did it for no other reason than to see if
she could.

Paine had
tried to learn that talent when he was alone with the chickens or
out in the field with the goats, but failed. He would have to ask
Lya to teach him.

He yanked the
knife from the wall. He hated asking.

“
He’s hardly the object of my affection,” he said.

“
I know, but it’s the knife that matters. It once belonged to
him.”

He offered a
smirk. “Maybe we can send the knife sailing at the Reverend.”

“
No, but maybe at Billy with the right summoning,” she said.
Her lips did not curve, but the smile still lay within her eyes.
“You should have let me put a curse on him.”

He shook his
head. He might still have need for Billy. Some nights could be
lonely, and Billy could be coerced into some otherwise unthinkable
acts.

Paine licked
his lips. “So by spying on him, you think you’ll learn what the
Reverend is up to?”

“
Billy’s his son, isn’t he?” Her black hair spilled over her
face as she focused on the page in front of her. She drew the
strands back like a curtain. “Gwen said he’s been seen with some
strange men in town — from the Confederation.”

“
Then let’s get on with it. What do we need?”

“
It’s an elemental — earth, air, fire, and water. And we need
the knife and the eye of something living.”

Paine groaned.
“I’m not killing anything for this.” The last time he killed a frog
for one of Lya’s summons, the spirit she called upon slipped
straight into his body. It took a stab to his leg with a
powder-covered knife to release him. He blanched thinking about it.
Sometimes she overreached her grasp.

Lya rolled her
eyes. “It’s a divination. It doesn’t need to be dead. But it should
be big because we need to look in its eyes.”

The biggest
thing in the barn was old Gertrude, and he knew how the cow felt
about his sister. Even now the Holstein was as far back in her
stall as she could stand, silently watching Lya. She wasn’t even
chewing.

He sighed.
This was going to take more work than he cared for.

“
Just get the stupid cow,” she said. “I’ll get the other items
and draw the circle.”

Paine
instructed Lya to leave the barn before he even bothered to move
the cow. He knew from past experience and a bruised ribcage when
they had tried something similar.

Once he
secured Gertrude in the center of the barn, he called Lya back. He
did not ask how she came by the lit torch. She wouldn’t have
ventured close to the house as it would have attracted their
parents’ attention. And she came from the other side of the
barn.

That was what
most of their trouble was about. Three months previous Jake Notman
caught her lighting a fire with just her hands and that rumor had
been almost impossible for Gwen and Charles to quell. It was absurd
they would raise a daughter who practiced witchcraft.

Despite those
public protests, a beating followed, and it wasn’t Lya’s to
receive. Paine suspected she had enchanted the old woman into
letting him take the brunt of their anger, but again, he kept those
notions to himself.

To make
matters worse, the recent night they had shared with Billy Chapman
rekindled those rumors. He shook his head at his own foolishness.
Obviously the boy had talked. So not only were they casting spells
and summons, but Lya was now hailed as a succubus and she was in an
incestuous relationship with her brother. It was no wonder Gwen and
Charles were encouraging them to leave.