V. The Demons
At half past one in the morning in Vatican City, Italy, Cardinal Paul Kovacs wakes with a start from his cot by the window, the stench of scorched human flesh still clinging to his nostrils.
“God help me!” he cries out, wiping the sweat from his forehead with one hand as he picks up the phone with the other.
“Hello? No, John, not at all; just took me a moment. Are you well?”
“Fine, Your Excellency. My apologies for calling at such an hour, but…”
“I understand. John, was your visit successful?”
Paul had sent Father John to America, officially at least, to meet with the Archbishop of Boston who had declined an invitation to attend a special council on priestly misconduct. Paul wants desperately for John to say that he has failed in his real mission.
“Yes, just fine. The, uh, Archbishop now has a clearer understanding of our goals and has accepted our invitation.”
Cardinal Kovacs is finding it difficult to speak.
“I see.”, he manages, “John… I…will you be here tomorrow then?”
“We are leaving now and should arrive at eight in the morning, I believe. Your Excellency, is something wrong?”
“John…no…nothing; we shall talk then.”
The demons are upon us, Paul wants desperately to shout, but thinks better of it and hangs up quickly. John would be with him tomorrow and all would be well again.
At exactly the same moment in Utica, New York, Harvey Kessler sits bolt upright in his chair, the recurring image of a savaged zebra crystal clear before him. Two strange words echo through the room, words that he recognizes immediately but which are so completely out of place that his brain simply rejects them. Shaking off the sleep, he sees Richard sitting on the floor in front of him, pale as a ghost.
“Rich?”
Richard slowly raises his hand and, pointing north over Harvey’s shoulder, tries unsuccessfully to speak.
“What is it?”
“Didn’t you…? It was…” Richard stammers trying to get his breath back.
Harvey looks over his shoulder, “What? Where?”
“There, coming right at us…it was…Christ! That scared the shit out of me.”
Harvey flashes briefly on the zebra then helps Rich to his feet and brushes off his pants for him.
“What in the name of god are you talking about?”
Richard takes a few deep breaths and tries to calm himself.
“I don’t know; it was…damn!”, Richard rubs both temples hard, “I can’t get that image out of my head.”
Harvey smiles, reaches over and touches Rich on the forehead.
“Per istam sanctam unctionem, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid deliquisti.”
“That’s not funny.”, says Rich.
“Hey, what are friends for? As Father John purified me, so I purify thee.”
Richard lets that sink in for a moment then sits back down and drops his head like a stone into both hands.
Harvey pulls out his phone, dials the office of Moshe Lowenstein and looks down at Rich.
“What; it’s just a blessing, right?”