Enzo

The man’s eyelids fluttered but he did not awaken. His breathing remained deep and even, barely perceptible over the sound of water streaming within the cave. His body had laid in a state of repose for so long that moss had grown in his hair and within his beard. Had anyone found him, they would believe him to be dead.

Enzo

This time the voice was more insistent, stronger. The man’s eyelids fluttered once more, this time nearly opening. His fingers twitched. On his wrists were silver chains that had long corroded, weakening in the process. The crucifixes that were along the cave walls had fallen into a state of decay and the salt circle had been broken, the majority of the mineral washed away or distributed by the wind with some seeping into the porous bedrock.

ENZO ROMANO

The voice reverberated in the man’s skull and his eyes opened wide. He sat up with a start, yanking at the chains that bounded him. The links snapped, allowing him to move his arms freely. He breathed heavily and rapidly, looking away wildly, trying to determine the layout of his surroundings in the darkness. He paused, looking down at his wrists clasped in the tarnished silver cuffs. He pulled one off, the hinge snapping, and threw it to the ground. The metal struck the rock beneath them and the resulting clatter reverberated off the cave walls. He pulled the second restraint off just the same as the first, allowing it to fall to the ground as well.

When silence returned, he listened for another person, curious about the identity of the person who had woken him. He soon realized he was completely alone. He stood up from the slab on which he had been laid and immediately fell to the ground, his leg muscles having atrophied from the lack of use over the past several years. He laid on the ground, thinking and trying to remember how he ended up here. He remembered his father dying, the strange man who turned out to be the devil, his mother dying.

No, she didn’t die. You killed her.

He nodded to himself and continued recounting the timeline; he killed his mother, there was fire, and then there was the moment of insanity which lasted longer than he intended. How many people had he killed in that time? He thought back, remembering the faces, the way they begged for mercy, how he bathed in their blood and learned to reanimate their bodies. His first victims had been his neighbors.

The night the house had burned, the night he burned the house down, the neighbors had gathered outside. Enzo had been in the sky, flying far above, watching the flames dance down below and he thought how beautiful it was to watch the fire twist and shimmer, incinerating all within it. He had quietly landed behind the growing crowd and he tapped on the shoulder of one of the bystanders, a longtime neighbor of his family, Andres Pirelli. Andres, then in his late seventies, older than Enzo’s father had been upon his passing, had turned and looked at the man quizzically and then with a deep sorrow. Something about the pity in his eyes triggered Enzo’s rage. He thought of the twisting flames, the dark smoke, and then he watched Andres Pirelli’s body twist in on itself, flailing in unnatural angles as his bones contorted and cracked. He screamed in agony as his ribs stabbed into his organs and as his frail bones were ground to powder. His head spun to face back to the fire while his torso remained facing Enzo and then he was silent. His body continued to twist and flail until it fell to the ground, nearly folded in on itself, dark blood pouring into the cobblestone streets. That’s when the screaming began from the others. The crowd thinned as they began to run but Enzo just wanted them to be silent. They hadn’t heard his father’s screams, they hadn’t heard his and he didn’t want to hear theirs. He locked eyes with one woman, another neighbor, and he willed her to be silent. She gnashed her teeth together so severely mid scream that they shattered after cutting through her tongue and she choked to death on her own blood. In the chaos, Enzo noticed one of the people who had walked past his home after the murder of his father, purposefully changing the side of the road that he was walking on so as not to pass the Romano residence. In an instant, he was standing in front of the man. He grabbed the man’s shoulders and the man leaned in as if to be consoled by the former priest. With an unnatural strength, Enzo pulled the man’s body apart, splitting him at his spinal cord and dumping his organs onto the ground beneath them. He threw one half of the remains onto the sidewalk and the other into the fire. The carnage continued as Enzo enacted his rage upon those who had gathered outside, tracking down each person that tried to flee. He executed each of them without remorse and without mercy, using his newly acquired powers to enact gruesome deaths. He turned the blood in the veins of one woman into fire, melting her from the inside out. Another man found his body inverted, his internal organs becoming external. The streets of Sicily ran red with blood and fire.

He had retreated to the coastline and watched the sunrise at daybreak. The year was 1957 then. He shut his eyes again, searching deep in his memory to try and recall how he ended up trapped here and determine where here was.

The years had passed quickly from there and he had continued to kill, finding a sense of joy in it. He had committed himself to learning from the Black Book and made ritual human sacrifices to the entity that had granted these powers. The sacrifices made him stronger and soon he found that he could transcend the mortal plane, navigating his spirit through liminal spaces and granting the ability to appear and disappear from the human world at will.

His eyes shot open, remembering that it was that ability that had led to his capture. The year was 1966 and the Vatican had been hunting him for nearly a decade. He had been careless, sloppy, pushing the limits of his powers and forgetting his vulnerability.

He had returned to the monastery, seeking refuge in its walls and shielding himself from the prying eyes of the Vatican by hiding in plain sight. For a few months, he was able to hide himself in the catacombs and sink into the walls to avoid detection, operating between the mortal plane and the spiritual one. But then the monastery had brought in a child, one who was rumored to be attuned with the divine. The girl immediately sensed Enzo’s presence upon his arrival to the monastery. She did not say anything to the priests who guided her into the monastery but Enzo felt the child lock onto him, even as he shrouded himself in the shadows, undetected by any other soul. It sent an electric shock of fear down his spine but he opted to stay in the monastery and plot to kill the child.

A drop of water landed on Enzo’s forehead and he opened his eyes, pulled from the deep reflection he had been in. He looked at the rotting crucifixes around him and smirked, reaching out and willing the darkness to bend to his will. It took a moment and then that familiar electrical surge ran through Enzo’s body and the darkness conformed to his desires, absorbing the crucifixes into it. He felt a surge of strength as he reconnected with his powers and he felt his legs regain their muscle, allowing him to stand up. He walked through the cave, reaching the entrance which had been sealed with a mix of rocks and concrete, infused with holy water. When he had been sealed in here, the entire cave had been blessed, locking Enzo in. But he could feel a difference in the cave now, it no longer held its hallowed status. Something had changed. Enzo smirked, reaching deep within himself and expanding out. The sealed cavern exploded outward and the cold sting of the fresh mountain air struck Enzo. He blinked in the bright sunlight and stepped forward, his first step out of captivity. The world felt different. He looked out over the valley below and saw no sign of life. That electrical hum filled his brain, stronger than ever before. It felt as if he was directly connected to the source of his power. He reached out into the Earth, feeling the forces of it, and pulling into himself. The moss fell off his body, his clothes reformed themselves, and his overgrown hair became neat, cropping close to the sides of his head as his beard shortened considerably. He then took a breath and leapt off the overlook.

Enzo opened his eyes and looked at the house in front of him. He looked to his left and right, looking down the stretch of road. Strange cars sat rusted on the streets, indicators of the years that had passed since Enzo had been sealed away from humanity. The street remained roughly the same, allowing him to verify that this was the same street where his life had begun and where he had become what he was now. The house that stood where his family home once had was a newer development but it looked to be in a state of decay. Windows were broken and the front door hung on its hinges. The street was eerily quiet and Enzo pulled the shadows around him, hiding within their darkness. He entered the house, looking through its unfamiliar layout. He searched through the entire house, finding only decaying furniture and rotting food. There was no power in the home and no people resided within it. The electric hum in his mind had become a nagging buzzing, pulling him to some yet unknown destination. He exited the building and began to follow the feeling, allowing it to guide him like a magnet, pulling him toward it from afar. He felt tethered to its source, following some sort of spiritual rope to find its origin.

At first he walked, trudging through the barren streets, searching for some indication of the year and the events that had led to this moment. He was perplexed by the lack of life, not a single person nor animal crossed his path as he continued along the road. He felt a small twinge of loneliness and he pulled from within the darkness, gathering its material to create. A raven formed, its feathers the same color as the inky depths from which it was formed. It tilted its head and looked at Enzo quizzically. He smiled and whistled at it and it took flight, hovering by his side. Inspired by his familiar, Enzo took to the skies as well, soaring high above the city.

From above, he was even more taken aback by the absolute emptiness of the city beneath him. Not a single car drove on the streets, not a single person walked on the sidewalks, and no lights dotted the landscape. Even the wildlife appeared to be sparse with no other birds in the sky beside Enzo and his raven and only some small mammals could be seen on the streets below. As he continued to soar through the air, he felt the hum in his skull increase to a pulsating throb. The invisible tether he felt guiding him forward seemed to strengthen as he approached the Holy City. In that moment he felt two competing feelings, one repelling him and the other, stronger, one pulling him in. A sense of deja vu washed over him, every new chapter of his life had been inextricably linked to this place. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind whipping around him, allowing the feeling to pull him forward as if he was traveling within a current. The Holy City had created him. He remembered his training there when he was preparing to enter the monastery. He remembered how the Vatican had issued the order to capture him after the slaughter in Sicily. And he remembered the robes of the priests who had ambushed him and sealed him in the cave after his discovery in the monastery. Above all he remembered that child, that damnable child that had led to his downfall.

The child had supernatural abilities like Enzo, however, the source from which those powers came could not be more opposite. The monastery had been convinced of the child’s abilities and bent the rules to allow the child sanctuary. The child was a girl, around the age of 12 at the time of her arrival, and the monastery was inhabited exclusively by men. But they had felt the need to safeguard the girl, setting aside their rules to adhere more closely to their faith. The night of her arrival, Enzo was visited by another entity.

“Very bold to seek refuge on hallowed ground. Smart too.” A voice said behind Enzo. He turned to see one of the priests standing behind him. He felt his heart rate accelerate and began to will the man’s body to conform to his power. The priest held up a hand and immediately Enzo felt the surge of power stopped. It was then that he noticed the priest’s eyes. They were serpentine and fiery with oblong pupils that he had seen before.

“How?” Enzo asked, recognizing the demonic entity.

“While holy ground is resistant, it is not impervious. I have borrowed this body by exploiting its weakness. This priest will provide only a brief amount of cover from the blessed one so listen and do not ask more inane questions.”

Enzo nodded in agreement, bowing his head in deference to the man.

“You have already been noticed. However, this child threatens more than just detection. She is an obstacle to a centuries long plan that is coming to fruition. You, as my hammer, must destroy her and build to that plan,” the demon commanded in the voice of the priest.

“It will be done,” Enzo replied. The priest’s body crumpled onto the floor as it was released from its possession. Enzo checked the man’s pulse and found it steady. He sat the priest up against the wall and then vanished into the shadows, using the darkness as his eyes to find the girl. From a recess in the corner of her room, he found her. As he looked at her, she turned and looked directly at him. He felt his blood run cold. Though he was hidden away physically, he felt as if she was standing in front of him, their eyes locked, waiting to see which one blinked first. Her expression was unreadable, but he knew she felt no fear. She was challenging him, daring him to try and kill her at that moment. She said something but the language was unfamiliar to him. He broke the connection and retreated back into the catacombs, shaking like a leaf.

The raven’s cawing brought Enzo back into the present. They were arriving at the Holy City. Slowly he began to descend, dropping from the sky until his feet came to rest on the road. The raven landed on his shoulder and Enzo stepped forward, following the guiding feeling he had felt since being freed from the cavern. He felt guarded, prompting his familiar to keep a lookout for any priest that may accost them. As he walked, he realized that there was no one else here. The city, like Sicily, was empty. He noticed that the walls of the Holy City were crumbling around a gaping crater as if they had been struck by a meteor.

As he approached St. Peter’s Basilica, he felt the hairs on his arm stand on end. He quickly shrouded himself in darkness, vanishing from view. His raven took flight, entering the Basilica through a broken window and perching on a beam in the high vaulted ceilings. Enzo looked through the raven’s eyes into the Basilica. On a pew near the front of the church was a dark pool of dried blood but Enzo did not see a body. The Basilica looked empty but there was an overwhelming presence within it. He felt a growing pressure around him, closing in, and he directed the raven to leave the building. It flew back through the open window and glanced back, still seeing nothing. Enzo knew better than to assume he was safe.

He reappeared some distance past the Basilica, standing at the door of another church. He went to push open the door but paused as he heard voices from inside. He focused on the liminal space within the chapel, willing himself into it but as he began to meld into its shadows, he was repelled. He frowned and vanished again, once more dispatching the raven to infiltrate the building. It transformed mid flight into an owl, trading its smaller and louder wings for broader silent ones. It entered through the bell tower, swooping in noiselessly and perching in the shadows. Enzo once again used its eyes as his own, looking down at the two humans that were within the chapel walls. He noticed the thick line of salt at the doorway which was likely what had prevented his entrance. His attention was also drawn to stacks of books dealing with demonology and witchcraft. Clearly these two were versed or being guided in the ways of dealing with beings such as himself. He felt a stab of fear as he considered that they may be witch hunters that were searching for him.

“None of this makes sense,” Mateo groaned, his voice carrying through the chapel. He laid back into the pile of various cloths and blankets that served as his makeshift bed, holding the book above his head. Enzo’s owl retreated further into the recesses of the ceiling, avoiding detection by the boy.

“You have to approach this all in a different way, Mateo.” Giulia said, setting aside the book she had been reading. “The Church would not have taught you these things. You are a child, not an exorcist.”

Enzo felt a wave of relief as he listened to their conversation. These two, whoever they may be, were not witch hunters or exorcists, they weren’t even priests. It seemed that they had been able to survive whatever event had occurred and now were trying to make sense of it all. They could be useful.

“But what way is that? I don’t even know what’s going on. I just know that a few months ago life was normal. I know the priests at school had talked about some sort of war and what that meant in the biblical sense, but this can’t really be the end times can it? If it is, why weren’t we raptured? What did we do wrong?” Mateo asked, his voice breaking with emotion.

Giulia sighed, she knew this was overwhelming for her son. It was overwhelming for her too but she understood it better than he did. At only 16 years old, there was no way that Mateo could understand what was going on. He was suddenly living in a world where nothing he had been taught up to this point applied. The idea of revelation was different from the actual occurrence of it and seminary had left him unprepared for the suddenness and severity of the times of tribulation. She walked over to her son and pulled him into her arms. He leaned against her and sighed deeply.

Enzo fixated on the boy. He reflected on what the boy had said and his mother’s reaction. If the times of tribulation had come to the Earth, then it made sense as to why he had yet to encounter any other people. It also answered why he had been awakened, there was a purpose for him to serve though he did not know what it was yet.

“I know that this is hard, Mateo. There isn’t anything you did wrong, but we do not know what our purpose is for being left behind. Perhaps there is something we are meant to do and that is why we are still here. It is not for us to decide, however, we must be prepared for any possibility,” Giulia said, stroking Mateo’s hair. He sat up and looked at her,

“I know you don’t trust them but I have more questions for those priests. Can we go back to the Apostilic Palace?” he asked.

Enzo was intrigued, were there other humans here? Why was it that Sicily was destitute but the Vatican seemed to have a number of people left behind? Something about the situation seemed odd and the boy unnerved Enzo, reminding him too much of the child that had led to his imprisonment.

“Mateo…” Giulia began with a sigh.

“Please? They’re the only help we have right now,” Mateo pleaded with her. She was silent for a moment before nodding and standing up from the cloth pallet.

“Keep your guard up around them. Only share what is necessary to get the information you need.” She said sternly and Mateo agreed.

Enzo watched the pair exit the chapel, stepping over the salt line to keep from dispersing it. He withdrew from the familiar, allowing the bird to shift back into a raven and fly from the chapel. He followed the mother and son from within the shadows, walking alongside them without alerting them to his presence. He noticed they also tensed as they passed the Basilica, falling silent as they scurried past it. There was something within its walls that he had reason to fear.

Within the Basilica, the Prince of Lust observed the boy and his mother and the newcomer that obscured himself from them through the powers of Hell. The witch bore the mark of the Deceiver, the Prince of Wrath.

“My siblings are making moves.” Lust said to the lesser demons, Enticement and Temptation. “We will have to do the same. Go to the library, assume your prior disguises. Find out what brings the witch here. Do not reveal yourselves to either the mortals or the witch. If you must, then kill the witness.”

The lesser demons obeyed, disappearing from the Basilica and assuming the form of the priests, Fathers Alessio and Lorenzo. The Prince of Lust pondered this new development alone. Of all the Vices, the Prince of Wrath was the most likely to issue a direct challenge to the others but Lust was not convinced that Wrath’s witch had been sent to the Vatican under his master’s orders. For now Lust was the only Prince that could access the Holy City with impunity and any mortal who entered into a pact with the other Princes would find themselves at the mercy of Lust and its lesser demons upon venturing within the Vatican’s walls. Few of Lust’s siblings were reckless enough to risk their assets in such a manner.

Mateo walked up the steps to the Apostolic Palace, looking behind to see his mother walking up the steps. Though he had become used to feeling uneasy, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being followed. He had yet to see another person and the steps gave him a higher vantage point to see anyone who might have been following. Giulia noticed Mateo’s narrowed eyes, squinting out into the distance. She knew he had likely felt the same as she had on the walk over, but she chose not to disclose that to her son. There was a time to be worried and a time to wait, now was the time to wait and see what happened next.

“Well, are you going in?” She asked. Mateo looked down at her, breaking his concentration and nodded silently. He walked into the building and she followed closely behind. Mateo blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the palace,

“Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing off the walls. There was no response. Giulia began to feel a sense of unease.

“Maybe we should leave,” she said but Mateo had already begun walking towards the library.

Enzo watched from the entrance, finding some resistance when he attempted to enter the Apostolic Palace. He could enter but he found that he was unable to remain covered in darkness, becoming visible the moment he stepped into the hall. His powers appeared to be limited within the building. Perhaps it was the combination of the hallowed ground with the numerous blessed artifacts and holy texts within though he had never encountered this level of resistance at the monastery. He faded back into the darkness, remaining outside, and instead transformed his raven into a small mouse, sending it inside instead. Even without the cover of shadow, it would be less likely to be detected than he would.

Mateo entered the library and found Father Alessio with a book in his hand, scanning its pages intently. He looked up and blinked in astonishment,

“Oh my child, I did not hear you come in,” he said.

“I yelled hello,” Mateo said and the priest smiled warmly,

“I didn’t hear you, but no matter. You are welcome here anytime. Can I be of any assistance?” He asked.

“Honestly Father, I don’t even know where to start. I’ve been reading the books we borrowed last time and I know what they’re saying but I really don’t understand how they apply. All of this stuff about witches and demons and the times of tribulation. I guess I still haven’t come to terms with it all.”

Father Alessio smiled again, nodding understandingly. He closed the book he was reading and slid it back onto the shelf. He began to browse through the other books, looking for something.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, grabbing a book and passing it to Mateo. Mateo looked at the dusty leather cover, it was a journal. He opened it, reading the spidery writing inside. It was another field journal. Mateo began to skim through its pages, picking up on words regarding the signs of the end times, war, famine, plague. The journal documented instances of each through the final war. The priest had dated each entry and Mateo found that it began long before he was born, dating back to the 1960s. The author of this journal had likely died before the war had happened.

“This was written before the war,” Mateo said. Father Alessio nodded but he did not speak, allowing Mateo to process what he had seen. “The Church knew this would happen. But why didn’t they share that information? Why was no one prepared?”

“Because there are things that are not within our control.” Father Lorenzo said, entering the library from the hall. “Divine prophecy is not necessarily something that is set. It is fluid, changeable under the right circumstances. But this time, we knew it was set. The world had reached its final days,” he paused, “has reached its final days.” He said, correcting himself.

“But why?” Mateo asked. Giulia grabbed his shoulder reassuringly. Father Alessio looked to Father Lorenzo,

“Because it was time. Every moment that had to occur to lead to this did. This required a very specific set of circumstances that had to occur within a set timeline. And they did. Like dominoes, once they fell into place, there was no stopping the chain of events. It was better to allow people to live out their final days in ignorance than to drive them into chaos. And even if the Church had warned people, which it had during each new indicator, not everyone would have believed. And the sad truth of it all is that not one person could have changed the outcome.”

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“Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” Father Alessio chimed in.

“And not everyone has that serenity,” Father Lorenzo stated.

Through his familiar, Enzo listened to the exchange between the priests and the boy. They were telling the truth, the Church had known about the fulfillment of Revelations for decades. The Church had tried to warn people, using it in its messaging to gain new converts. But not everyone was a believer and, as the priests said, there was nothing that any person could have done to change the outcome. However, there was key information that they were not sharing with the boy and his mother.

“But if the Church knew this would happen years ago, then they must have had some idea about what comes next, right?” Mateo asked.

Enzo smirked, the boy was perceptive, he’d give him that.

“Well…” Father Lorenzo began. Giulia watched the priest intently, scrutinizing his body language.

“Perhaps the answers you’re looking for are in here! There’s so many journals like the one you’re holding now. And the Book of Revelations provides some guidelines as to what comes next so that’s a good place to start.” Father Alessio added brightly.

“So neither of you have read anything about what comes in the times of tribulation?” Giulia asked skeptically. Father Lorenzo became noticeably uncomfortable, shifting on his feet slightly and clasping his hands together.

“We study a great deal of things, it is possible that we have read relevant texts but don’t remember where they are located or the details,” Father Alessio said unconvincingly.

“But you knew exactly which books we needed so far,” Giulia retorted.

Enzo watched the scene unfolding with some amusement. The boy clearly got his sense of perception from his mother and she was not allowing the priests to get away with not answering their questions. He noted the reluctance of the priests to disclose any further information as it related to the divine prophecies in the end times. It had been so long since he himself had read any holy texts that he was uncertain of where to begin to look, but the priests seemed to know the answers. They just didn’t want to disclose them.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” Father Lorenzo asked. Giulia protested but the two men stepped out of the room. Mateo watched them leave the library and then went to follow, but as he reached the entrance of the library, he did not see either of the priests. He looked back at his mother and shrugged.

“So much for their help,” he grumbled, reentering the library and searching through the shelves for anything that might answer his questions.

Enzo commanded his familiar to follow the priests out into the hallway. He looked around the empty hall through the eyes of the rat. He saw no sign of either priest. He used the rat’s senses to try and track their scent, scurrying along the wall to find another room they may have entered. The entire place seemed deserted. Suddenly his vision spun, the floor becoming a blur and moving further away. Enzo turned the rat’s head to look behind him and stared directly into the eyes of one of the priests. There was a wicked grin on the man’s face and a malicious gleam in his eyes. Enzo willed the familiar to dissolve, trying to pull it back outside but his powers faltered. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and nearly severed the connection between himself and the familiar. But curiosity kept him connected, waiting to see what the priest did next.

“You’re out of your depths here, Enzo Romano,” the priest intoned ominously. Enzo’s blood felt like ice in his veins. He tried to break the connection but something held him. He felt a sense of frustration and dread as his powers continued to fail him.

“Until we meet again, servant of the Deceiver.” The priest held the rat up over his head, tilting his face up and opening his mouth. Enzo watched through the eyes of the rat as the priest’s jaw unhinged like a python, opening wide. The rat flailed, trying to escape but the priest held firm and in one fluid motion, dropped the rat down into his mouth, clamping down on its throat.

Enzo fell backwards, the connection between himself and the familiar having been severed. He sat on the ground, ragged breaths coming out in short bursts as his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. He was completely visible now and he felt vulnerable in a way that he had not felt since his father’s death. As he caught his breath, he felt a sense of rage welling up inside him. The powers that he had traded his mother’s life for had failed him. He had given everything, the greatest sacrifice he possibly could. The ritual had promised greater power for greater sacrifices and yet, some priest, though he had doubts that is what that man was, had been able to best him. Maybe he needed to sacrifice again, to offer up more blood for his powers. It had been years and he had been sustained through his captivity, impervious to starvation and dehydration. He thought for a moment, thinking through his limited options.

The boy’s mother.

The thought came to him like a whisper in his ear. Why was it fair that the boy got to keep his mother? And she was old, she had lived long enough. The boy was too innocent, too naive. He needed to face reality and was it really just that he got to keep his mother when so many others had been lost? And if the pair hadn’t been raptured then clearly there was a reason.

Enzo’s mind ran rampant with speculation, justifying his plans. He had never felt guilty about his actions because he had always justified them. The people he killed had deserved it or they needed it, like his mother. He had immediately dispensed with the idea that he was a man of God, but he had never set aside his need to be righteous. It was part of what had driven him to insanity. Feeling defeated, he faded into the darkness and fled from the steps of the Apostolic Palace.

“Father Alessio?” Mateo called, seeing the priest down the hallway. The priest turned around and smiled at Mateo.

“Oh my son! I apologize for my sudden leaving. Father Lorenzo and I had some things to discuss privately. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Mateo could detect a hint of nervousness. The priest was talking too much, overexplaining. The smile was sincere but it also was forced, it didn’t express joy but rather masked anxiety.

As if sensing that Mateo was reading his emotions, the priest dropped his smile and took a step towards him. Mateo stepped back, caught off guard by the sudden change but the priest grabbed his hand and pressed a slip of paper into it. He nodded quietly and walked down the hall, disappearing into another room. Mateo watched him leave and then looked at the piece of paper in his hand.

“Shelf 3, row 4. ‘Revealing Revelations’”

Mateo smirked, it was the answer to his questions. He still didn’t entirely trust the priest, but for now he knew he could rely on at least Father Alessio as a resource. He walked back into the library, rejoining Giulia. He showed her the slip of paper,

“Who gave you this?” She asked.

“Father Alessio.”

“Guess he had a change of heart” she said and Mateo shrugged,

“Let’s find out.”

Mateo counted the shelfs as did Giulia. Unsure of which way the numbering started, they each chose one side of the room to search, going to the third shelf from the wall on either side of the room. Mateo searched his chosen shelf, scanning across the fourth row, and opening the various journals to search for the title that matched the slip of paper. On the other side of the room, Giulia did the same. Mateo moved down the row as his current search left him empty handed. Outside the sun began to set, dimming the library as the windows let in less light.

After an hour of searching and as the room grew darker, Giulia walked out from the rows of bookshelves and down to where Mateo was still diligently searching, squinting in the dusk to read the pages of yet another book.

“We should go. We can come back tomorrow,” she said and Mateo shook his head, grabbing another journal off the shelf. Giulia walked over and grabbed his arm, holding it gently but sternly. She gave him a look that only a mother could give, one that did not ask for but commanded obedience. He sighed and placed the book back on the shelf.

“Ok,” he grumbled.

As they walked out of the library, they ran into Father Alessio again. In his right hand was a lit oil lantern.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked and Mateo shook his head.

“Not yet, we’ll be back,” Giulia replied, prompting Father Alessio to smile.

“I know you will. Here, take this, it’s getting dark out.” He said and he handed the lantern to Giulia. She took it, looking into its flame. The light from the lantern almost felt alien to her, having been deprived of anything like it for months. Father Alessio patted himself, searching the pockets of his vestry robes. Once he found them, he pulled out a small box of matches and gave those to Giulia as well.

“We have a small number of these here in the living quarters, please let me know when you’ll need more,” he said. Giulia passed the matches to Mateo who slid them into his pant’s pocket.

“Thank you, Father,” she replied and Father Alessio smiled again,

“Anytime, my child. Now please, get home safely.”

With the priest’s farewell, they parted. Father Alessio went down the hall one way and Giulia and Mateo went the other, back towards the entrance, the lantern swinging in Giulia’s hand, casting long shadows across the walls.

Enzo waited for the boy and his mother to exit the palace, drawing upon the darkness to obscure him once again. For the last few hours, as the two had taken refuge in the library, he had plotted. He watched the glowing lantern get closer, the old woman and the boy following behind its warm light. His heartbeat accelerated with anticipation and he felt a sort of giddiness. He had come to enjoy killing, enjoy the vibrating feeling that filled his body when he used his powers to bend the bones of others and contort their flesh. He loved the power he felt when he met a mortal’s eye before tearing them apart with his hands or the arcane. And he hated the powerlessness he had felt since entering this place. He felt the need to assert his power, to reconnect with the demonic forces that granted him his abilities. The woman’s death would not be quick nor would it be painless. He would hold her accountable for his feelings of weakness. He would show her and the boy the true meaning of the times of tribulation.

The pair stepped across the threshold of the Apostolic Palace and began to walk down the steps. Enzo watched them with a predatory glint in his eye. As they reached the street, Enzo extinguished their lantern and surrounded them with shadow, darkening the area around them.

Giulia’s blood ran cold as she found her visibility reduced to nearly nothing. She instinctively reached out and grabbed Mateo, pulling her hand into his. He started to speak but she shushed him, listening intently. Mateo reached into his pants pocket to pull out the matchbox but as he started to pass it to his mother, he felt it get plucked from his hand. He looked forward, squinting through the darkness and saw a pair of glowing red eyes over a devilish smile.

“Hello boy” it hissed and Mateo shouted, throwing himself in front of his mother. The darkness dissipated some, allowing Mateo and Giulia to see the person standing in front of them. The man was tall and gaunt, dressed in plain dark robes. He had a wild look in his eyes and a sinister smile split his lips, revealing yellowed teeth.

Giulia tried to pull Mateo behind her but he pushed her back and stared defiantly at the man in front of him. The man laughed and flicked his hand. Giulia watched her son fly through the air and crash against the steps, crumpling at the bottom of them.

“No!” She screamed and attempted to run to her son but shadowy tendrils tethered her to the ground. She struggled against them but could not break free. The man stepped closer to her,

“Do you know what true power feels like? Do you know what it takes to get it?” he asked. He was now looming over her, their chests only centimeters apart. She looked up at him,

“Go to hell,” she spat. He smirked, wiping her saliva from his chin.

“Where do you think that power comes from?”

The dark tendrils that kept Giulia rooted to the ground tightened, drawing blood. She cried out in pain and looked back at Mateo. He hadn’t moved and she felt her eyes burn as she feared the worst.

“He’s not the one I’m going to kill.” Enzo said, dragging a nail up Giulia’s arm and splitting the skin. As blood began to flow, he bent down and ran his tongue up her arm, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he lapped up the rich metallic liquid. Giulia recoiled, yanking her arm away from him. He stood up straight and looked at her hungrily. He grabbed her hand and held it up in front of him, holding firm as she tried to pull away.

“Let go of me,” Giulia commanded, trying to yank her hand out of his grasp.

“Ok” Enzo replied and Giulia felt a searing pain in her wrist. She watched her arm fall helplessly to her side while her hand remained in the man’s. Blood gushed from the severed stump, soaking down her pant leg. Her vision swam and throat burned as she forced down the rising bile. The man tossed aside her hand, the graying flesh falling to the street with a sickening squelch. He grabbed her forearm and pressed his palm against it. Giulia screamed, her vision hazy at the edges as the pain overwhelmed her senses. She felt a searing heat and smelled burning flesh. She hoped that Mateo wouldn’t be conscious to watch her death.

The man released her arm and Giulia pulled it back, dropping it to her side to avoid looking at the cauterized stump.

“Just kill me,” she whimpered.

“Oh, I will. But first I’m going to have some…” The man was cut off as a glass vial shattered against the side of his head. Water splashed across his face and his skin bubbled and peeled where it touched him. He roared in pain and turned to face the source of the assault.

Mateo stood just a few feet away, his face set in a look of determination, eyebrows furrowed and eyes locked onto the man. In his right hand was another vial of the holy water he had brought with him from the chapel. The moment the man turned to face him, he pitched the second vial directly between his eyes. The glass shattered and the man howled as the water boiled his skin and eyes, blinding him.

Enzo’s vision went black as he felt searing pain. The holy water burned as if it was fire. The humiliation of being beaten by a priest and now a child overrode the pain and he screamed in rage. A burst of dark magic emanated from his body, shooting out in all directions.

Mateo ran to his mother as the man recoiled in pain. He saw her arm and her hand on the ground next to her and fought the urge to vomit. Behind him the man let loose an animalistic shriek and Mateo turned to see shadowy tendrils lash out from the man’s body, one aimed directly for his mother. Without a second thought, Mateo stepped in front of his barely conscious mother and hugged her close to him, shielding her body with his own. A tear rolled down his cheek as he pressed her close,

“Goodbye mama, I love you,” he whispered, hoping she could hear him. He felt a comforting warmth fill his body as he closed his eyes and waited for death.

“Well that’s interesting,” Father Alessio remarked, watching from the window as Mateo was enveloped by a golden glow, repelling the black magic of the witch.

“Could he be?” Father Lorenzo asked in awe, standing next to the other demon disguised as a priest.

“Possibly but he wasn’t immune to us. We should tell the Master.”

“I’m already aware.” A third voice said, prompting both priests to turn and face the man in a purple suit who stood behind them, watching the scene unfolding outside the building. There was a moment of silence as they watched the boy unwrap himself from his mother and look at himself in astonishment. The Prince of Lust watched intently and sensed the witch regathering himself, using his powers to sense the location of the boy.

“His powers won’t save him again, he isn’t the counter to the Deceiver. Nor is he my counter. He’ll be useful to us. Rosier, Gressil, kill the witch and make sure the boy sees.” The Prince of Lust commanded. The priests nodded and vanished, reappearing outside.

Mateo backed away from his mother, looking at his shaking hands and then down at the rest of his body. He was completely unharmed. The same magic that had severed his mother’s hand and been used to torture her had no effect on him. The warm feeling that had enveloped him remained and he felt stronger somehow. Despite the situation, he felt a sense of calm and confidence. He turned to face the man, reaching into his pocket for the final vial of holy water that he had with him when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back to see Father Alessio.

“We’ll handle this from here,” the priest said and Mateo looked back at his mother to see Father Lorenzo gathering her into his arms. He noted how Father Lorenzo grabbed his mother’s hand from the sidewalk without so much as a grimace.

Enzo sensed the boy’s presence shift. There was a power to him now and he remained unharmed by Enzo’s outburst. For the second time that day, Enzo felt vulnerable and afraid. The rage inside him continued to build and he regathered himself, reaching down into the depths of his power to summon strength. He was committed to killing this woman and now he would eliminate the boy too. He wouldn’t make the same mistake that he had made back in the monastery.

Father Lorenzo gently laid Giulia down inside the entryway of the Apostolic Palace where she would be safe from any further attacks from the witch. He walked back out into the street to join Father Alessio and Mateo. The demon disguised as a priest smiled, it had been a long time since he had been able to play with a mortal, especially one that bore the insignia of a rival Prince. He could feel the witch pulling his power from within Hell, building up to unleash another attack. He walked towards the blinded man and placed his hands over his ears, the witch struggled and then fell limp as Father Lorenzo used his own power to lock him inside his memories.

Enzo looked around, he could see again but he was no longer in the streets of the Holy City. The stone walls surrounding him were familiar and he recognized the monastery where he had spent most of his adult life.

How did I get back here? He wondered. He considered the possibility that he had been dreaming. Perhaps he had never left the monastery, perhaps he had dreamt of a possible future or seen the times of tribulation through the eyes of another. His teachings had referred to such episodes as holy divination and there were countless accounts from priests who had claimed to experience it. He stepped forward and fell, landing on a drab and thin rug. He looked up and locked eyes with a girl. She wore that same look of defiance that the boy had.

Realization hit him like a freight train. He had not been dreaming but now he was remembering. This was the night he was captured. He looked to the door as two priests burst in, carrying silver handcuffs and chains. He struggled against them as he had then, even though now he knew the futility of doing so. He had tried to kill the child in her room. He had passed through the walls unseen and undetected, but as he entered the child’s room he had fallen out of the shadows. She had been waiting for him and, somehow, she had neutralized his powers. The priests who had been alerted by the child to the presence of something evil within the monastery had been keeping guard and they entered the moment they heard Enzo’s body hit the floor. They had bound him with the silver chains and blinded him with burlap soaked in holy water that they wrapped around his eyes. He felt the cold wind on his face as he was dragged out of the building and transported to the cave where he would be locked away for decades. As he re-lived his memories, Enzo grudgingly realized that this was only the first time he would be undone by a child. All that power and sacrifice rendered useless by children in different decades.

Father Alessio pulled Enzo’s limp body from the ground with a single hand, holding him by his throat. He looked back at Mateo to make sure the boy was watching. Mateo’s eyes were wide and raptly focused on the priest and the witch. Relishing in the moment, Father Alessio pulled back his right arm in an exaggerated fashion, balling his hand into a fist. He then thrust it through Enzo’s chest, bursting through his ribcage and causing the unconscious man to vomit thick black blood down the priest’s robes. With a wicked smile, Father Alessio reached up inside Enzo’s chest cavity, the flesh and sinew squelching around his hand as blood poured down onto the street. He looked back at Mateo as he pulled the witch’s black heart from his body and dropped the carcass back onto the stone where it landed with a dull thud. Mateo’s face was paper white, his entire body shaking violently but his eyes remained locked on Father Alessio.

Father Alessio continued grinning at the boy before opening his mouth and shoving the heart into it. The dark blood ran down his chin as the organ filled his mouth. He unhinged his jaw and Mateo vomited onto the ground. Father Alessio then bit through the heart, his teeth tearing through the arteries and vessels causing more blood to explode out across his face, and swallowed, tossing the other half to Father Lorenzo who consumed the rest with a bored expression on his face.

The priests walked over to Mateo and waited for him to finish heaving. He looked up at them fearfully, tears streaming down his face. The fierce determination had faded, melting into fear and confusion. Father Alessio wiped his hand on his robe and extended it to Mateo, his smile softening into a warmer and less menacing expression,

“We have much to discuss, my son.”

Mateo followed the priests back into the Apostolic Palace in silence. Father Lorenzo carried his mother, who was still unconscious, into the building while Father Alessio brought along her severed hand which had begun to turn shades of blue and gray as it remained disconnected from her body. The priests led Mateo deeper into the Apostolic Palace, passing the library and continuing down the dark halls until they arrived at the living quarters. Father Lorenzo gently laid Mateo’s mother on a bed and Mateo immediately went over to her, grabbing her arm. Her skin was clammy, beaded with sweat and feverish.

“She’s going to die,” Mateo said to the priests. Father Alessio held out her severed hand to Mateo who shook his head, feeling bile rising in his throat again.

“I’m not handing it to you just for fun, boy. Take the hand and put it near where it should be,” Father Alessio said, an edge of irritation in his voice.

Mateo swallowed hard and grabbed the hand. The damp flesh and the way the bones shifted when he grabbed it made his stomach flip. It took all of his willpower to not drop it on the floor. He placed it on the bed, pushing it towards his mother’s wrist. He looked expectantly at the priests,

“We’re not able to do anything. You have to be the one to help her.” Father Lorenzo said.

“How?” Mateo was close to tears, confused and desperate. He couldn’t lose his mother, he needed her. His heart was racing and his head was spinning, nothing made any sense. His mother was dying and he was sitting in a room with priests who killed a man and ate his heart. And the worst part of it all was that if they hadn’t done that, both he and his mother would likely be dead. Mateo felt entirely lost yet the strangely warm feeling still emanated from inside him.

“Not my area of expertise, kid” Father Alessio said with a shrug and Father Lorenzo shook his head as well.

Mateo turned back to his mother and placed his hand on her arm. He closed his eyes and concentrated, envisioning the warm feeling flowing out from him into her. He felt the warmth spread from his hand, moving through his fingertips and out onto his mother’s skin. He opened his eyes and saw a soft golden glow around his hand. The gold light traced along his mother’s veins and through her skin. He looked down at the end of her arm where her wrist was separated from her hand. He saw thin golden threads reach out from the cauterized flesh and attach to the hand pulling it back together. The color returned to her hand as blood flow was restored. The scratches on her arms and legs healed, the skin melding back together. The golden glow faded and Giulia’s breathing became deeper and less ragged. Her skin was no longer feverish to the touch.

Mateo slowly removed his hand and grabbed his mother’s hand, squeezing it gently. Her fingers twitched, gently squeezing his hand back. He pulled his hand back in surprise and looked to the priests. Both were unfazed.

“You figured it out, good job,” Father Alessio said, but there was an edge to his voice. Mateo watched him warily as he walked over and grabbed a chair, pulling it forward and sitting in it. He crossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his face in his hand.

“What are you?” Mateo asked. He began to feel more confident and he spoke clearly, almost commanding the priest to respond truthfully.

“Friends,” Father Alessio said, “If you do what we ask.”

“Otherwise, very dangerous enemies,” Father Lorenzo added.

Mateo felt a chill run down his spine. That same menacing smile that Father Alessio had on his face as he consumed the man’s heart was back. There was still blood on his teeth.

“Did you ever learn about the seven Virtues in school, Mateo?” Father Alessio asked. Mateo shook his head.

“What did your church teach you?” Father Lorenzo scoffed.

“They weren’t trying to prepare them for the apocalypse, idiot. Especially not children.” Father Alessio sniped at Father Lorenzo. Father Lorenzo rolled his eyes and sat down on an adjacent bed. “Anyway, you should do some research on that but I’ll give you the brief of it all. As you know these are the times of tribulation when the divine has abandoned the remainder of humanity to survive as demons ascend to the Earth. However, this is also the time when the Princes of Hell also ascend to the Earth and each one is seeking to assert their dominion and claim the mortal plane as their own. To do that, only one can remain.”

Mateo nodded, following along. Father Alessio waited to see if the boy had any questions but Mateo remained silent,

“The Virtues are the counters to the Princes of Hell, there are seven of them to counter the seven Vices. Today we found one.” Father Alessio continued.

“Me.” Mateo whispered.

“You.” Father Alessio responded.

There was silence as the weight of what was just said set in. Mateo felt lightheaded and he lowered himself onto the floor, leaning back against the bed and closing his eyes. The priests watched him, giving him time to process.

“Here in the Holy City, you are safe as long as you do not cross us or our master. At this time, no other Prince or demon can enter the city without facing a serious limit to their powers. The man that tried to kill you today was a witch. His name was Enzo Romano and decades ago he traded his soul to the Prince of Wrath for the powers you saw today. He tried to follow you into the Apostolic Palace and we were able to prevent him from doing so. He was unable to sense when you regained consciousness because his powers were dulled by the hallowed ground.” Father Alessio tilted his head toward Giulia. “Otherwise you both would be dead. However, this safety is not absolute. Our master, the Prince of Lust, has unfettered power here and, by extension, so do we.”

The realization came to Mateo suddenly,

“That’s what I heard that night in the Basilica,” he said.

“Yes, we killed a human that night.” Father Alessio said in a matter of fact way that unnerved Mateo even more. “As a Virtue, specifically the Virtue of Selflessness, you cannot be harmed by the Vice you counter. In this case, the Prince of Greed. The same does not go for our master. If you displease our Lord, we will kill you.”

“So what do you want from me?” Mateo asked. The demon noted the lack of fear in the boy’s voice. The child clearly did not fear death, an admirable attribute for one so young.

“Merely for you to fulfill your purpose. You are impervious to the Prince of Greed which means you can banish him easily. We’ll provide you with the necessary tools and you will eliminate the demon.” Father Alessio replied. He reached into his robes and pulled out a book, passing it to Mateo. Mateo took the leather bound journal and opened it to the first page, Revealing Revelations was neatly printed in the middle of the lined paper. It was the book he and his mother had been searching for.

Father Alessio stood up and Father Lorenzo did the same. Mateo started to stand but Father Alessio held up his hand,

“Get some rest here tonight,” he said. Father Lorenzo vanished from the room but Father Alessio lingered for a moment longer.

“We look forward to assisting in the fulfillment of your purpose, Mateo.” He said. Mateo could not determine how to respond so he simply stared at the priest standing before him in the blood stained robes. Father Alessio chuckled and vanished. From behind him, his mother quietly snored.

Mateo crawled into a bed next to his mother and crawled in, sliding the journal under a pillow. His mind raced, processing everything he had seen and the strange new abilities he had. He had saved his mother though and that was the only thing that mattered to him. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, listening to the sound of his mother’s breathing.