Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I (46 page)

At the sound of footsteps, Kosta returned to his
hiding place and retracted the spikes into their telescopic housings. There
were six thuds as the impaled bodies dropped from the deadly pegs. He turned to
Adam, ignoring a shoulder wound he got from one of the men just shot. Adam’s
eyes showed concern, but he didn’t say anything.

Kosta saw the worry and dismissed it with words that
would stay with Adam for the rest of his life. “Life is pain and trouble, Adam.
We find out how much it’s worth when we endure it. I don’t know how this will
end.
 
I’ll sell my life for you,
but remember, if it comes to it and you have to sell your life well,
ayori mou
— my boy: show them how precious it is. Make them pay for every breath
and every second they try to steal.”

He motioned for Adam to get up as he stooped over
Mordecai. Somehow, the pathetic snake had survived the reverse steel porcupine.
The barrel of the shotgun nudged his forehead up and he slowly stood in
obedience to the barrel’s ascent. Kosta didn’t waste time with philosophical
discussions. He only wanted to know how many more men there were.

“Enough,” Albert Pike responded as he entered the
room. Three shots knocked the Winchester from Kosta’s hands, spun him around
and dropped him to the ground with a useless left leg.

Adam screamed and rushed to catch him and keep Pike
from shooting again. The Darkness in Adam growled at Pike who stopped. It
scowled an order to drop the gun and join Mordecai on the ground, which only
made Pike laugh.
 
The dandy reached
into his pocket and removed a custom tobacco stick from a priceless cigarette
case, as though he had all the time in the world.

“Your majesty I do not conform to your wishes like my
colleagues, the Luciferians. I have a similar lineage to the Nephilim, and with
all due respect, I have my own orders, which do not include obeying yours.” He
lit the cigarette and addressed Kosta. “I must congratulate you, Kostadino.
You’ve been entered into our chronicles as the most rebellious of our members. You
are the Antiweishaupt. It is a shame you have to die. I’m in awe of your
deception and audacity to kidnap the Antichrist from under Satan’s nose.” He
shook his head at the thought.

Kosta, who had been silent until then, finally
answered. “The Architects of the Great Work know why I did this,” Kosta stated
succinctly. “Adam doesn’t deserve the blame for the end of the world.
 
Now he can make his own choices without
following a path determined by human fantasy.”

“Human fantasy, imagination, novelty, it’s all been
done, Kosta. All our gods and devils are a rehashing of forgotten terrors and
delights. We salvage and reconstruct past deities to accommodate our own unique
beliefs.” Pike let the cigarette dangle from his lips as he pulled the
slide-group of his pistol back, filling the chamber. “I’ll tell the Builders
your answer.”

“Mr. Pike, drop the weapon and step back.” A voice,
and several hammer clicks, halted his motions.

“Mr. Russell, I was wondering when the Templars would
get here.” Pike was not surprised but raised his hands all the same. “I almost
thought we would have to do this without you.”

Pike turned, and everyone still alive in the house,
watched as armed priests filled the door and filed in. Mordecai looked like he
would fall dead from surprise. Paul Russell and Brian Caldwell led five
Templars, apprehending Adam and addressing him directly.

“Sir, your uh, Lordship, we’re here to take you with
us,” Caldwell stumbled. The accompanying clergymen carried mostly pistols, but
a few had new Israeli uzis. The Romans had the best equipment money could buy.
The Dark Nobility, and their fallen twenty hired professionals, came with their
own equipment.

“I’m not going,” Adam replied. His refusal made no
sense; Kosta was in no condition to do anything and Adam was still a child.

At this point, Mordecai’s face contorted and he began
to implode. The being who now pulled his lips back, lengthening and expanding
his teeth, gave hushed guttural assurances.
 
Mordecai saw this happen years before and now felt the
painful effects himself. The violator soothed Mordecai, stating he was a good
cow, a good pet, and apologized that this had to be done so that the Messiah
could live.

In minutes, Adam knew who possessed Mordecai. It
meant nothing to him, or to the Templars, who nodded to one of the men with an
uzi. He opened fire and riddled Mordecai with holes, his body dancing to the
rhythm of the bullets, until he dropped to the ground, dead.

The Templar who shot Mordecai began to transform, but
maintained enough control to drink a bottle of holy water, while his brother
knights doused him with the same. His violator screamed and brought the Templar
to his knees, glaring at Adam before it left. The Darkness glared back,
undaunted.

“That’s some nasty stuff.” Pike dropped his gun and
waited for an opening amidst all the pandemonium. He watched Masons and
Templars while wondering if they were the allies they seemed to be. “Mr.
Russell, Mr. Caldwell, did Grand Master Bernhardt inform you of the importance
of this assignment?”

Nobody answered yet Russell and Caldwell looked
nervous. Pike had seen these two at various Brotherhood ceremonies. They did
not belong with the Templars and Pike wondered why they were leading them on
this very delicate mission.

“What are two Master Freemasons doing leading
Christ’s soldiers? Gentlemen, whatever you might think of me, you must also
know you’re being led by men with whom I have associated.” Pike saw this
argument made an impact on the hardy Templars, who kept glancing at a Templar
on the far right, marking him as the ranking seneschal.

“You, sir, did the Grand Master give you orders
directly?” Pike addressed a middle-aged wiry knight who stared suspiciously at
him, but said nothing. “If he didn’t tell you what to do, from whom are you
getting your orders? Surely not these two,” Pike indicated the nervous Masons,
who finally replied.

“Grand Master Hapsburg, himself, planned this mission
and we come with the authority of Pope Paul VI,” Caldwell declared.

“Where does Seneschal Quentin figure into all of
this? Why isn’t he leading this expedition?” For the past decade, Pike had been
stumbling across the names of Quentin and Lancaster Martin, and was surprised
they hadn’t joined the Templars. “He’s been field commander for years and now
he’s excluded?” Pike let the question sink in, and while it did, he took
several long puffs on his cigarette, until the unresponsive seneschal finally
answered.

“All three of you are suspects in this complicated
job. You have been named as openly hostile by our Grand Master,” the seneschal
indicated Pike. “These two were named as our field commanders on this mission.
That’s all there is to it. Now, stop with the double talk and negotiation.” To
punctuate his point, he pulled back the hammer on his uzi.

Pike saw this as a major tactical setback, though not
insurmountable. At this point, he did not wager further debate, but waited for
another opportunity. He knew better than to cross a Templar who’s been blunt
and has a cocked uzi pointed at him, though he did still dare to speak, without
a gun, negotiation his only weapon. “May I speak to the Masons then? I only
want to discuss terms of visitation after custody.”

“What do you mean? You’ll have no association after
we leave,” the seneschal answered, despite himself.

“I would like to discuss this with the leaders of
this mission, sir. I mean no disrespect. I see no other option if we intend to
remain in contact with our Redeemer.” This was going well, Pike thought. The
big lunk-head was getting into it, despite his earlier assertions.

“You will have to find us for any association to take
place, sir,” Russell stated, trying to show they were not in league. “Your kind
is beneath association, and it’s a shame we can’t kill you too.”

“Accidents happen,” Pike quipped. “The Dark Nobility
will contact your Bernhardt Hapsburg for negotiations. You have won this
battle, gentlemen. I’ll leave you to it.” He saw the very moment the Templar
commander broke from his orders. It was when he named the Grand Master with
such familiarity, combined with the frustration Russell showed at this turn of
topic.

“I told you before, this is over. We will not be
discussing any such thing with the likes of you.” Russell turned to the
doubting seneschal and added, “Father Thomas, please dispose of this Illuminati
filth.”

“Not until I get some answers,” Father Thomas
asserted. “Why isn’t Father Quentin here? You’re only being granted respect
because our Grand Master vouched for you, and I don’t see him here. So, you go
ahead and tell me why I shouldn’t put you with your friend over there.” He
indicated Albert Pike, who added, “People in glass houses, Master Mason
Russell. I’m sure you know the rest.”

As he continued to plant seeds of doubt amongst the
Masons, he shot glances at Kosta, who nodded in understanding. Kosta whispered
for Adam to move closer to his earlier hiding place while Pike tried to
distract their attention.

“My affiliations are known, Mr. Russell, Mr.
Caldwell. Our Templar foes are also open with affiliations; here, the only two
unknown are you. Where do you stand? Who do you serve?”

Adam had started to move Kosta to the control area
when two of the Templars shouted for him to halt. He took another step, but
halted when a bullet whizzed past his ear.

“You were told to stop, Beast.” Father Thomas’ tone
was dangerous. Whatever his orders, if given enough reason, he would kill Adam.

“We don’t have to answer any questions, Mr. Pike. You
are trying to fog the issue. We’ll take the boy and be on our way. Father
Thomas, take the young man into custody and kill the rest,” Russell stated,
taking charge. However, Father Thomas ignored his commands. “Seneschal Thomas,
you are being given a direct order from a duly appointed field commander of
your Grand Master.”

“I want an answer. Who do you serve, sir? A lot of
Freemasons have been known to us and I remember your names. So, for that
reason, Grand Master or no, convince me you’re not on his side.”

“Father Thomas, we are all Brothers of the Temple.
You are members who stayed in the Order, hidden within the Church. We had to
hide the Order in the world, without benefit or protection,” Caldwell
explained, trying to bolster Russell’s assertions. “We all revere the same
ancestors: De Molay, De Payens, De Toroga. Everyone here has sworn upon
Baphomet and protected the Sangrael.”

Russell interjected, completing their appeal to the
doubting Templar. “We serve our Order, sir. There is much you do not know about,
and when we return with this boy, Grand Master Hapsburg will tell you
everything.
 
It is time our Order
is reunited.”

The Masons were excellent negotiators; they had every
Templar riveted during their speech. They hadn’t even noticed Kosta slide an
own uzi from a hiding place but his wounds forced him to drop it. As he
struggled with the weapon, Adam knew he had to allow his protesting Darkness free
reign. In the past hour it strained to let loose, and the relief was nearly
audible when Adam let it.

Again, a swirling, frigid cold mist, the colors of
slaughter and maiming, filled the air. Kosta’s eyes took on a pained expression
of regret. He remembered the first time it happened with the fat businessman
and shook his head.
 
Pike fell to
his knees, awed by it; a dark pilgrim beholding a revered relic.

The Templars shouted at each other and Father Thomas
screamed they’d shoot Kosta if Adam didn’t stop.
 
Kosta had ducked behind the reinforced walls; nothing short
of a bazooka could get through them.

Thomas told everyone to begin the Roman Ritual, and
withdrew the crucifixes they had around their necks. Seven Templars advanced on
Adam and ordered the Darkness out, in the name of the Father, the Son and the
Holy Ghost. It felt no ill, even well into their second verse. Adam coaxed it
to its full, terrible splendor and dealt with the misguided clergymen.

The final change wasn’t like Azazel’s startling change
but was equally jarring, though a more subtle aberration. When the Darkness was
in control, Adam did not breathe. The Darkness stopped all life, because it was
Death. The light in the room didn’t register on him — it absorbed
everything. Sounds were muted and scent was gone. Even the sunshine was darker.
All sensory reality weakened in the presence of full Darkness.

The Templars, try as they might, had no effect, even
with holy water. Used on any other damned thing, it would have caused
excruciating pain, but the Darkness didn’t respond.

The first, of the seven to die, was flung
bone-crunchingly against the far wall, propelled by the tangible will of the
Darkness. It then spun a second around with unseen blows, while his brother
knights heard his bones pop, accompanied by screams of pain.

Five remained and they desperately pulled out their
guns. The shots flew at Adam, but by the time the bullets never reached him. He
looked at each of them, and with every glance, one was returned to his God.

The Darkness snapped the first one’s neck and allowed
him to fall in a heap, the second terminated in the same manner. Still, the
three who remained didn’t give up, drawing their knives to slash and stab.
Instead, the intended wounds appeared on each other and they dropped their
weapons to clutch at their wounds. One gurgled from a cut to his neck, another
from a stab in his side, with the last grabbing his chest, just left of center.