The Paradise Prophecy

36

With all due respect,” Callahan said, “you don’t act much like a monk.”

They were in an adjacent room now, sitting at a long table. Philip was camping out in here, his backpack and provisions piled in a corner. A kerosene lamp glowed beside him as he set out three paper cups and started pouring tea from a thermos.

He was full of nervous energy and it had taken them a few minutes to get him loosened up. “And what’s a monk supposed to act like?”

Callahan shrugged. “I just expected you to be more … holy.”

Philip nodded as if he understood. “I was pretty bowled over the first time I saw a priest smoking a cigarette and knocking back a shot of whiskey. We get these preconceived notions of what it means to be holy and when somebody doesn’t live up to the stereotype, we’re surprised.”

“You have to admit a monk with a gun is a little unusual,” Batty said.

Philip finished pouring and pushed their cups across the table. “Hey, what can I tell you? I grew up in Jersey and I wasn’t always with the monastery. And when your life is in danger, old habits die hard, you know what I mean? I haven’t seen anything in the handbook says I’ve gotta be a hero.”

Callahan frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re Brother Philip?” He glared at her. “What do you want, an ID? I’m afraid I left it in my other pants.” He gestured to her cup. “You’re not gonna drink your tea?”

Callahan eyed it suspiciously and didn’t pick it up. “Why don’t you tell us about the e-mail?”

“E-mail?”

“The one you sent in reply to Koray Ozan a couple weeks ago.”

Philip had his own cup to his lips. He paused. “You know about that?”

“Ozan wasn’t a genius when it came to computer security.”

“Fair enough,” he said, then took a quick sip. “What else do you know?”

“That you’re Custodes Sacri,” Batty told him. “And I’m guessing you’re wearing the medallion right now.”

Philip stared at him a long moment, as if trying decide whether he could trust him. Then he shrugged, reached into his collar and brought out the Saint Christopher medal hanging from a thick leather strap around his neck. “I’m starting to think this thing is costing me a lot more than it’s worth.”

“How long have you been with the order?”

“Long enough to know I shouldn’t be talking to strangers about it.”

“Let’s get back to the e-mail,” Callahan said. “Why was Ozan asking about the seven missing pages from the Devil’s Bible?”

“Because he was a curious old fool. And curious fools wind up dead.”

“Or blind,” Batty said. “Like Milton?”

“Milton, Galileo and God knows who before them.”

Batty was surprised. “Galileo?”

“That’s how Milton got the bug. Galileo told him about the missing pages and he went looking for them. Or so the story goes. At this point, I’m not sure how much of it’s true. These things tend to get distorted after a while.”

“What’s on those pages?” Callahan asked.

“A curse; I know that much. It’s what drove both Galileo and Milton blind. But as far as I know the pages from the Codex don’t even exist anymore. When Milton realized how dangerous they were, he burned them.”

“So how does this connect to Paradise Lost?” Batty asked. “What were Ozan and Gabriela Zuada trying so hard to find in Book Eleven?”

Philip looked from Batty to Callahan. “You two have been doing your homework. You’d better be careful, or you’ll wind up just like Milton. Or Ozan. Although at this point it probably doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

“Have you looked outside lately? What’s happening in the world right now is enough to scare the Jesus right out of you. Everybody’s favorite demons have been very busy-manipulating the stock market, flooding cities with drugs, whispering in the ears of those on the brink of waging war. And once the fourth moon comes, they’ll finally be able to release all their slaves-a lot more than there ever were before-and that’ll be the end of us.”

“Fourth moon?” Callahan said.

“The fourth moon of the tetrad. It hits in two days.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“An eclipse,” Batty told her. “The fourth eclipse this year.”

“Look,” Brother Philip said, “do yourself a favor, go home and be with your loved ones, because the way it’s looking, the bad guys have already won. And by this time next week, we’ll either all be dead or so close to it, we’ll wish we were.”

“Are you talking the Apocalypse?” Callahan asked.

Philip snorted. “The Apocalypse is a fairy tale. But it pretty much amounts to the same thing. Only none of us will be seeing the Rapture anytime soon.”

“And you’re saying there’s no way to stop it?”

“Not the way I see it. This train has no brakes. This is the modern age, with global communication, instant information, and opportunities to corrupt twenty-four/seven on a worldwide basis. The pump has never been this well primed before. Unless Michael can pull off some kind of miracle, we’re sunk. And if the bad guys get hold of the Telum before he does, that’s a whole new level of-”

“Telum?” Batty said. “What’s the Telum?”

Philip shook his head. “I’ve already told you too much.”

“Then it won’t hurt to tell us more. What is it? A weapon of some kind?”

Philip hesitated. Seemed torn. Then he said, “A wandering soul. A sacred traveler who’s reborn every generation in human form.”

“The one you’re sworn to protect.”

He nodded. “There was a time Michael thought I might be the one, and Ozan before me, and the rest of the guardians. But he was wrong.”

“Then who is it?”

“That’s the million-dollar question isn’t it?”

“But if you don’t know who it is,” Callahan said, “how do you protect anyone?”

“By protecting the key. The key that frees her.”

“And where is this key?”

Philip shook his head and gestured to their cups. “I’m done being friendly. I think it’s time for you two to drink your tea and get out of here. Let me have my last hours in peace.”

But Batty wouldn’t let up. “Tell us about the key, Brother.”

Philip drained the last of his cup and got to his feet. “Sorry, but that’s all you’ll get out of me. Right now, I’m just trying to protect myself.” He lifted the gun from the table. “They can come after me, but I’m not going down without a fight. So if you two don’t mind, I’d like to-”

Thunder rumbled outside and the temple floor began to shake. Violently. Batty and Callahan grabbed their chairs as Brother Philip stumbled back, his face going slack.

“She’s here,” he said.

Batty felt a sudden darkness spread through him. “Who’s here?” But he could already feel her.

“Who do you think? Their enforcer. The angel of confusion.” Callahan furrowed her brow. “The angel of what?”

“You lead her right to me…”

Belial, Batty thought. The Demon of Lust. The Lord of Pride. One of the players in Paradise Lost. And Batty had a very strong feeling that she was currently inhabiting this earth as a drop-dead gorgeous, tongue-wagging, coma-inducing redhead.

Is that who he’d been dealing with?