House of Acerbi

begin. I want to extend my sincere gratitude to all of you for being here with me tonight.”

The group stared back at him in respectful silence, for tonight Rene Acerbi was about to undergo a transition. In less than an hour, he would be among the Twelve.

Moving outside, they looked up and saw that the sun had finished its arc in the west, leaving a star-filled sky as the only outside witness to what was about to come. Listening to the cries of small wildlife all around them, they followed a winding path lit by flickering torches deep into the forest.

Nearing their destination, they saw a distant glow through the trees that spurred them onward until they found themselves standing in a towering grove of some of the most ancient trees on the planet. Despite the fact that all of them had been to this spot in the forest before, the sight took their breath away. Towering above them, a gigantic sculpture rose forty feet into the air. To some, it looked just like any other massive piece of undefined modern art one sees erected in front of corporate and governmental buildings the world over, but to those who understood its true meaning, it resembled a bird of prey.

Hollow inside, the sculpture had been constructed to look as if it had been carved in place from a natural rock formation. Running diagonally across the front was the engraved image of a large red snake, an explicit allusion to the Acerbi bloodline that had stretched across the centuries, while tall flames leapt into the air from a sunken fire pit at the base of the sculpture, lending a primitive aura to the proceedings.

On the moss and lichen-covered ground below the stage, a large gathering of lesser group members sat in rows of chairs placed in a semi-circle. In the background, as if the entire scene wasn’t bizarre enough, the stage suddenly erupted in pulsating white light, while strange and melodic music began to emanate from inside the gigantic sculpture.

“It appears that everyone is here,” Rene said, turning to the select few who had followed him to the grove. “Please, take your seats up front.”

When the audience spotted Acerbi, they began to applaud and shout out his name. His presence seemed to stir something within them, much as it had for his father when he had stepped upon this same stage for a similar ceremony years before.

For centuries, this hidden grove had been a place of refuge for the members of this secret cult. It was a place where, united by their true heritage, they could gather yearly to celebrate their beliefs and make plans for a new world-a world where they would not have to wonder if they would once again be hunted down like their ancestors and persecuted for who they were or what they believed in.

Acerbi peeled off from the group and made his way behind the stage before entering a hidden door that led inside the massive sculpture to a dressing room. Assisted by others, he donned a black silk robe and turned to stare into a full length mirror, his black eyes staring back at him. With the others watching, he pulled a pointed black hood over his head and stood back to admire the sight.

Rene Acerbi was about to be reborn.

Lingering to take a few deep breaths, he turned and walked out onto the stage through a cloud of red smoke that flowed from the sides. Before him, eleven hooded men wearing dark blue robes stood in a circle, while off to the side stood another hooded figure dressed in flowing white robes-the leader.

As soon as the audience saw the black-robed figure of Rene Acerbi standing motionless under the huge sculpture, they grew quiet. Against the backdrop of the smoke and flames, the clandestine fraternity of men and women began to sway to the strange music as flickering, shadowy images danced in the tall trees surrounding the grove.

Suddenly, the music stopped, prompting the man dressed in white to thrust his arms up toward the sky. For a few seconds, all was silent, and then the chanting began.

The man in white lowered his arms and walked over to Rene. After clasping him on both shoulders, he took him firmly by his left arm. Without fanfare, he led him to the circle of blue-robed men and stood by his side as the chanting increased. Those gathered below were witnessing an ancient rite that had remained virtually unchanged since the 13^th century.

Rene would be the twelfth member of the circle, mimicking the number of apostles in the New Testament. Within his faith, these twelve were known as the Perfecti, a religious rank on par with that of the cardinals in the Catholic Church, but that was where any similarity stopped.

Acerbi’s entrance into the circle signaled the beginning of the ancient rite of consolamentum. It was a baptism of the spirit, a spiritual regeneration. It was absolution and ordination rolled into one, and when it was all over, Rene Acerbi would be one step closer to his birthright of replacing the man in white. Not only would he sit at the head of one of the largest corporate empires the world had ever seen, but he would also be the ultimate leader of their faith, thus making it almost impossible for anyone anywhere in the world to ever challenge his authority again.

He had already proven his ability to lead them in business, and now Rene would be given the chance to prove that he could hold sway over their religious beliefs as well. Until then, the spiritual well-being of the Acerbi clan would rest in the hands of the man dressed in white, and he had no plans for stepping down anytime soon. It’s only a matter of time, Rene thought to himself … a very short time indeed for the man in white.

The black color of Rene’s robes was symbolic of the fact that he still remained in darkness, waiting to be reborn as a Perfecti. Once the transition from darkness to light had taken place, his black robes would be removed and replaced with ones of blue, the color of the Perfecti, signifying his membership among the spiritual elite.

Ever since the day their previous leader, Eduardo Acerbi, Rene’s father, had disappeared, the Perfecti had wisely decided to keep their leader’s true identity a closely guarded secret. Many found it difficult adjusting to the fact that no one except for the Perfecti had any idea who their leader truly was. It had become fashionable at social gatherings to jokingly refer to one another as leader, because no one except for the Perfecti knew which powerful man sitting among them was the man in white. They could be sitting right next to him at a meeting and never realize who he really was.

On those occasions like tonight, when their leader was required to be physically present according to the sacred laws governing the ancient rite of the consolamentum, his identity was hidden by the white hood that concealed his face from others.

When the chanting stopped, the man in white stepped forward and faced Rene. For a full minute, their eyes were locked, each man searching the soul of the other. The audience was spellbound while Rene stood there, transfixed, like a serpent under the gaze of a snake charmer, until suddenly he stumbled backward. He had just seen something. Although he had only seen the eyes, a flash of recognition had just jumped full force from his subconscious into his conscious mind.

Impossible!

His breath began to come in short, shallow gasps, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the ground swayed beneath his feet. It was as if time itself had come to a grinding halt in a disorienting symphony of emotions.

No! It couldn’t be!

But it was.

Rene watched as the man reached beneath his white robes and produced three scrolls along with a letter. Looking deeply into Rene’s disbelieving eyes the man reached out and gently placed the scrolls in Rene’s trembling hands. Then, without a word, the old man suddenly turned and disappeared into the thick red smoke drifting across the stage.

Rene felt like he was dreaming, for he had just come face to face with someone even more powerful than he … someone he never thought he would meet in this world … or any other for that matter.

CHAPTER 23

In the yacht’s dining room, Leo and the others sat drinking coffee with glum faces. News of the pathogen’s return had put a damper on a day that had been filled with promise, and none of their attempts to find any new