“So, you’re devil worshippers,” he said. “History told us so, but many scholars, professors and historians convinced the public otherwise.”
“Of course,” Bacchus said as if Bodie were stating the obvious. “The Devil’s greatest victory was in convincing the public that he didn’t exist. That his power is evil, decadent and corrupted. We are His disciples.”
“And this is your revenge?” Bodie asked.
Unnervingly, Bacchus smiled in the exact same manner that Bodie had earlier. “You thwarted us at the Holy Grail site too. Prior to that, the American CIA concealed your movements well, but when you left them, striking out on your own, your footprints appeared. You hated being in their thrall, yes?”
Bodie made a quiet sound. “I guess.”
“We have started to rebuild,” Bacchus went on. “To regain all that we lost at Olympia. Not physically, of course, that will take time. But our power, our influence, our authority—that grows by the hour. You set us back, but we are eternal. Our Master will provide.”
Bodie glanced at the paintings. “He provides debasement, death and hardship, it seems.”
Again, the Hood smashed a fist into his ribs. Same place, same force. Bodie groaned and choked as Bacchus answered his observation.
“Your own god is no different. I see daily wars. Famine. Disease. Many men without talent, conscience or competence allowed to rule entire countries.”
“I have... no god,” Bodie wheezed. “And you have to have faith that a government will listen to the will of the people, or be replaced.”
“It is always replaced. What does that tell you?”
Bacchus made another motion with his hand. Several Hoods came around the stakes to strike Bodie and his team. They would not be able to take too much of this—especially Lucie—and there was no way to escape their bonds. No rescue was coming.
It occurred to Bodie that he’d already seen his last sunrise.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bodie lost track of time. The pain riddled and debilitated him. For a horrific moment, Lucie stopped breathing. The Hoods released and resuscitated her because Bacchus didn’t want to end her suffering.
Not just yet.
Bodie was helpless. Cassidy tried her best to fight back but ended up bleeding and flinging her own blood at the Hoods. They couldn’t stand with their heads down because the wire cut too deep across their throats. They couldn’t twitch or lurch or shake. They couldn’t move as the Illuminati took their revenge.
“We are embarking on new quests,” Bacchus told them as they bled. “For there are many great, influential treasures yet to find, and others that are vital to our Master. The future is positively sanguine, don’t you think?”
Bodie gurgled blood. A Hood backed away, giving him a view of the Grand Master and his Minervals as they accepted trays of cooked meats, sweet treats and cups filled with steaming liquids. They nibbled and sat back, crossing their legs and laughing as the Hoods beat the relic hunters before them. Bodie knew the only mercy afforded here would be a quick death.
More time passed. The group of Hoods beating them were exchanged for a fresh crew, and these men seemed to hit harder and faster, at least to start with. When Bodie’s chest became numb they started on his face and then legs. When they deadened, the Hoods returned to his chest.
Through the pain and the blood that stung his eyes, and above the grunts and cries of his friends, he struggled to listen. To hear what the Illuminati hierarchy were chatting about. The hope was that he could seize on something that might halt their suffering, anything to gain them an extra hour or an extra day.
“Where have you been?” he cried through a mouthful of blood, taking a punch to the teeth that split his gums. “We uncovered Olympia over a year ago and have since found Atlantis among other things. Does the news travel slow to this part of the world?”
It was a gamble, to be sure, but Bacchus didn’t look bothered as he waved the Hoods aside. “Give them a moment. We are not detached. We are close to Sicily, which is a bit of a conundrum when it comes to towns. Yes, it has the laid-back Italian carelessness, but it is also a tourist hub. So, busy, by turns. As for news—I am fully dialed in, as they say. The CIA are a hard nut to crack. You signed your own death warrants when you ‘escaped.’” Bacchus laughed long and hard.
Bodie sighed, also seeing the irony. Everything they’d wanted had led them straight into the Illuminati’s hands. This was revenge for setting the Order back centuries. “But how did you find us?” he asked, genuinely interested.
“You forget... we were there at Cadbury Castle. We fought against you in King Arthur’s tomb. Not all our men were slain. Some followed, laid low, and watched. The Hoods are better than you, better than anyone in the world at covert surveillance.”
“We moved very quickly,” Jemma said.
“Yes, yes, but the breadcrumbs were there. Only a handful of people in the world are good enough to make you disappear from the CIA’s sight. We know all of them, even if the CIA don’t. Giselle gave you up to save her own hide...” Bacchus inclined his head. “Understandable. And we have contacts in every city, every town, in the world. The hard part was biding our time.”
Adelaide leaned forward in her chair, her shock of red hair falling across her shoulders. “I for one have been awaiting this moment. You people killed my wife at Olympia—Calypso. Do you remember her?”
Bodie nodded. “Mad witch. Died hard.”
Adelaide shot to her feet, grabbing a Hood and spinning him around so that she could wrench the dagger from his belt. She became a blur, lunging at Bodie, but a shout from Bacchus pulled her up short.
“Not
