Knock Three Times

34. As Above, So Below

                'SYCKSEMSTRA INFETIA!' The sinister words of the Black Pope echoed through the priest's once confident soul. Father Theron fell to his knees before the demonic altar, as he could hear the bells of Hell toll loud and deafening, as though the very heart of the underworld beat like thunderous drums, beaconing from the deep. Shawn let out a cry that scorched his throat and tore through his vocal chords, as it felt as though his ear drums were being ripped from his head with every toll. His nose bled, eyes bulged bloodshot as he tried to concentrate on prayer, hoping the Almighty would intervene and spare him from Merrill's satanic hex, but pain had become him.

    In that moment, all he knew was blinding agony.

    'I'm sorry, brother Theron . . . there is no repentance . . . only pain.' Benjamin's eyes lost focus for a moment, allowing the darkness in his heart to shove any lingering emotion deep inside. So many thoughts of his past would vanish from mind, guilt fermenting like wine into unfiltered hate, as it always had.

    'MAKE IT STOP!' screamed the priest as he begged for relief, but Merrill simply checked his watch, noting the few minutes left before the chime of the midnight hour.

    'And so . . . it begins.'

    Thick black smoke then surrounded the altar as a lone dark soldier stood to protect the chosen womb, allowing the Black Pope time to complete the very last part of the Infernal Harvest—blasphemous scripture known only to those who dwell in the darkest crevices of Hell. Within the haze of fog, the demonic Klaus rose like a shadow of the Grim Reaper, the dense silhouette of the darkest human heart of the age. He stood over the yelping priest, marveling in his torment.

    'We have company.' said Merrill over the screaming of his fellow clergyman, and Klaus turned his black eyes to the staircase, ready to stand against the very last of the children of light. 'The White Witch hath come.'

    I can handle ze woman,' he assured menacingly. 'Shall I dispose of ze priest?'

    'Just . . . get him out of here.' he replied, and as Klaus placed his hand upon the holy man, Father Theron's screaming vessel turned to smoke, and in an instant he was gone.

    'Where did you take him?' asked Benjamin as he prepared for the closing of the ancient spell.

    'Why is zis a concern of yours, Geistliche?'

    'Because it does!' he barked back furiously, pointing his ritual dagger at the towering man threateningly. 'If I wanted backtalk I would have assigned someone else! If you value your position and your life, you will shut your stupid Nazi face and answer the fucking question.'

    Klaus lowered his brow, grinning most evil.

    'You flatter me, Your Imminence.' he raised his hand before Merrill could lose his temper further, his sarcasm not received well. 'Fear not; I have taken him to ze tower where he may converse with his friend; what is left of her, anyway. I am curious, Benjamin . . . why would you care so fiercely what happens to ze priest, now of all times? Shawn Theron is no longer any concern to us.' his calm composure was threatening in itself.

    'Just . . . keep to your post, Klaus.' he tried to find his calm, speaking like a co-worker all of a sudden, and Klaus knew he had touched on a sore subject. But then Merrill straightened his spine, worried he had revealed too much. 'I cannot afford to waste time explaining my thoughts, least of all to a fucking mongrel such as you.'

    'Careful now.' Klaus smirked quite unnervingly, the old man's glare setting the Pope's nerves on edge, knowing just how vile and powerful he truly was. 'You forget ze only thing keeping you from me is our master's insistence zat you are useful. One word . . . and you are mine.'