End of Days by Frank Lauria

“All good things will come your way. You’ll see.”
    â€œHow long do I have to wait?” Christine said vehemently. “I’m almost twenty-one. Every time I even start to get close to a guy … something happens to him. Car crash … skiing accident … drowning. I swear, sometimes I think God wants to keep me a virgin.”
    Not God, Mabel thought, holding her close.
    *   *   *
    The haunting, stilted melody from the music box drifted in the background as Jericho studied the leather-bound Bible. He found what he was looking for in Revelations 20:7.
    When the thousand years are ended, Satan shall be loosed out of his prison …
    Jericho closed the Bible and reached for his shirt.
    It was late when Jericho arrived at St. John’s Church on Central Park West. The edifice was in disrepair and when Jericho entered he saw the scaffolds beneath the stained-glass windows. The place needed an overhaul. The chapel looked like it hadn’t been used in years. Except for the votive candles flickering in front of the altar, there was no sign of life.
    But as Jericho neared the altar, a figure appeared out of the shadows and began distributing prayer books along the pews.
    The priest was tall, with short gray hair. He had sharp features and wore steel-rimmed glasses. When he had finished his preparations, he approached Jericho and gave him a regretful smile.
    â€œI’m sorry … we’re closed.”
    â€œI’d like to talk to you about Thomas Aquinas.”
    The priest peered over his glasses at Jericho. “I’m Father Novak. Thomas was my friend and my colleague. Whatever happened this morning was not his doing.”
    Jericho shrugged. “Really? There was no one else on that fire escape.”
    Father Novak glanced at the cross above the altar. “You don’t understand.”
    â€œI understand getting shot,” Jericho snapped. “I don’t like it.”
    Suddenly nervous, Father Novak stared at him. “He was shooting at you?”
    â€œHe was shooting at my client. I just got in the way.”
    â€œWho’s your client?”
    Father Novak’s question had an urgent tone. Jericho brushed it aside. “That’s privileged information. Why would a priest try to kill someone?”
    â€œHow long have you been drinking?”
    He caught Jericho off guard. Father Novak smiled. “It’s easy to smell. I’m fourteen years sober.”
    â€œGood for you,” Jericho said coldly, trying to regain control of the interview. “Was your friend and colleague working for someone?”
    â€œMaybe he was working for God.”
    Jericho snorted. “So God ordered a hit on an investment banker?”
    Father Novak’s sharp features became flinty. “There’s an awful lot you don’t know,” he said, voice laced with contempt. “You think you’ve seen everything? There’s a whole world you haven’t even dreamed of. Thomas saw it. And it destroyed him.”
    Jericho remembered the garish horror inside Thomas’s refuge. “I’ve seen a lot…” Jericho conceded. “But nothing that would make me want to cut out my tongue.”
    â€œWait a few days.”
    The answer chilled Jericho’s skin. “What happens in a few days?”
    Father Novak looked at him intently. “Do you know anything about a girl?”
    Jericho’s chiseled features revealed nothing. “What girl?”
    The priest continued to study Jericho’s face as if weighing how much he could be trusted. “Tell me something … Do you believe in God?”
    â€œMaybe once. Not anymore.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œWe had a difference of opinion. I thought my wife and daughter should live. He felt otherwise.”
    Father Novak seemed unmoved. He glanced at his watch as if anxious to leave. “Perhaps it’s time you renew your