this house of God.”
“Where are they, Father Paul?”
The old monk seemed disappointed. “Everything has to be done in a hurry these days, demon. She is protected better now than when she was here. You will never find her.”
“You underestimate me.”
“No, I would never do that. But I was here when Josef broke the deal. I watched as the devil ripped out his tongue. There was no small talk, no threats. The devil just did it. We all feared him. You are not of the same calibre or ilk. I do not fear you.”
Asmodeus was getting a little sick of this. He took his jacket, folded it carefully and laid it on the nearest pew. He raised his hand and with it, flung Paul hard against the back wall. He watched as the old man slid to the floor, and then walked over to him.
“Did that hurt Father? I sincerely hope so.” At least he could command sarcasm.
At his feet, Paul struggled to move. “You will get nothing from me demon.”
“We shall see.” Once again he lifted him, slamming his age-old body against even older stone. Again, he dropped and bones cracked.
“Let him be, evil demon.” A voice spoke from behind.
“Oh look, company. We can have a party and cocktails, even hors d'oeuvres. Let me think─oh yes, Father Tomasso. Or can I call you Tommy?”
“You may call me nothing. Your tongue speaks nothing of relevance in this world. You do not belong here. You are the damned, the unblessed, the outcast of hell. Be gone, demon.”
“Oh, nice speech. Do you know where my betrothed is?”
“She is not your betrothed, nor yours by free will. I will not tell you. You took her by devious means, of deception, of mischief. None of these are recognized by God.”
Asmodeus shook his head. “Would you see your precious friend here suffer?”
“There is no suffering here.”
“Really? Let me test that.” The huge cross behind the altar, naked wood, reminded Asmodeus of a St Andrews cross, perfect for his needs. He raised Father Paul in the air, twisting his contorted body hard with its back to the cross.
“Stop it. Leave him be.”
“You stop me. Tell me where the bitch is.”
“Never.”
Asmodeus raised his brow and with another twist of his open hand ripped the clothes from the broken monk. Twisting his fingers, he flayed the old man from head to toe. Muscle and flesh covered broken bone. The aging heart pumped from behind cracked ribs. Old eyes opened, now lidless, and looked back at him. The walls were sprayed in blood. Skin lay in ribbons on the floor. Two hands pulled at his shoulders as Tomasso tried to yank him away.
“Tell me where she is.”
“She does not belong to you. She is only a toy, a plaything to you.”
Asmodeus turned to face him. “Yes she is. I can see your thoughts, Tomasso. You dreamt of her, of being in her room, sliding off her clothes. You wanted her, to corrupt her with your wrinkly old cock. You’re just a dirty old man.”
“I am loyal to my lord, and my beliefs. I thought no such things. I have no desires but to serve. No sins pass through my thoughts. You are nothing and your words go over my head.”
“Very well.” With a flick of his wrist, Tomasso flew at him, stopping with such ferocity, that every bone in the old man’s body would hurt like hell. Asmodeus lay his hand on the monks forehead. “Show me.” He knew that three old men with such a friendship would have some form of link. Indeed they did. Images moved slowly through his mind. Some were blurry, some more clear. He saw through old eyes, looking around. There were crowds, tourists everywhere. A clue, come on, a clue Josef, where are you? Birds, pigeons, flew into the air. Around him the buildings were old too. Old time architecture of such beauty filled his gaze. A woman appeared with her back to him. It was Elizabeth, sat on a low wall, hand in hand with the boy, Jared. Around her neck was the damn celestite charm. Over her shoulder he saw the water, the unmistakable gondolas.
“So, Tommy, they
“Where are they, Father Paul?”
The old monk seemed disappointed. “Everything has to be done in a hurry these days, demon. She is protected better now than when she was here. You will never find her.”
“You underestimate me.”
“No, I would never do that. But I was here when Josef broke the deal. I watched as the devil ripped out his tongue. There was no small talk, no threats. The devil just did it. We all feared him. You are not of the same calibre or ilk. I do not fear you.”
Asmodeus was getting a little sick of this. He took his jacket, folded it carefully and laid it on the nearest pew. He raised his hand and with it, flung Paul hard against the back wall. He watched as the old man slid to the floor, and then walked over to him.
“Did that hurt Father? I sincerely hope so.” At least he could command sarcasm.
At his feet, Paul struggled to move. “You will get nothing from me demon.”
“We shall see.” Once again he lifted him, slamming his age-old body against even older stone. Again, he dropped and bones cracked.
“Let him be, evil demon.” A voice spoke from behind.
“Oh look, company. We can have a party and cocktails, even hors d'oeuvres. Let me think─oh yes, Father Tomasso. Or can I call you Tommy?”
“You may call me nothing. Your tongue speaks nothing of relevance in this world. You do not belong here. You are the damned, the unblessed, the outcast of hell. Be gone, demon.”
“Oh, nice speech. Do you know where my betrothed is?”
“She is not your betrothed, nor yours by free will. I will not tell you. You took her by devious means, of deception, of mischief. None of these are recognized by God.”
Asmodeus shook his head. “Would you see your precious friend here suffer?”
“There is no suffering here.”
“Really? Let me test that.” The huge cross behind the altar, naked wood, reminded Asmodeus of a St Andrews cross, perfect for his needs. He raised Father Paul in the air, twisting his contorted body hard with its back to the cross.
“Stop it. Leave him be.”
“You stop me. Tell me where the bitch is.”
“Never.”
Asmodeus raised his brow and with another twist of his open hand ripped the clothes from the broken monk. Twisting his fingers, he flayed the old man from head to toe. Muscle and flesh covered broken bone. The aging heart pumped from behind cracked ribs. Old eyes opened, now lidless, and looked back at him. The walls were sprayed in blood. Skin lay in ribbons on the floor. Two hands pulled at his shoulders as Tomasso tried to yank him away.
“Tell me where she is.”
“She does not belong to you. She is only a toy, a plaything to you.”
Asmodeus turned to face him. “Yes she is. I can see your thoughts, Tomasso. You dreamt of her, of being in her room, sliding off her clothes. You wanted her, to corrupt her with your wrinkly old cock. You’re just a dirty old man.”
“I am loyal to my lord, and my beliefs. I thought no such things. I have no desires but to serve. No sins pass through my thoughts. You are nothing and your words go over my head.”
“Very well.” With a flick of his wrist, Tomasso flew at him, stopping with such ferocity, that every bone in the old man’s body would hurt like hell. Asmodeus lay his hand on the monks forehead. “Show me.” He knew that three old men with such a friendship would have some form of link. Indeed they did. Images moved slowly through his mind. Some were blurry, some more clear. He saw through old eyes, looking around. There were crowds, tourists everywhere. A clue, come on, a clue Josef, where are you? Birds, pigeons, flew into the air. Around him the buildings were old too. Old time architecture of such beauty filled his gaze. A woman appeared with her back to him. It was Elizabeth, sat on a low wall, hand in hand with the boy, Jared. Around her neck was the damn celestite charm. Over her shoulder he saw the water, the unmistakable gondolas.
“So, Tommy, they
Similar Books
