Father Patrick sat back in his wheelchair and eyed the cardinal with a hard glare, causing the man to turn away to stare out the window. He followed the cardinal's line of vision, which had become fixed in the direction of the Masonic lodge only blocks away. There was an agenda, he could feel it. The very fact that they were meeting in Philadelphia was part of it, he could tell. But with his second-sight weakened from the ultimate demon attack, he couldn't be sure. Frustration riddled his being as he quietly acknowledged the loss of yet another part of himself.
"Why?Why now, after all these years?" Father Patrick lifted his chin indignantly, his tone more of an accusation than a question.
The cardinal blotted his brow with a neatly folded white linen handkerchief that he'd extracted from the deep pockets of his robe. "Because we must . . . we need the Templars to return to restore order. We need this secret group that you all whispered of for centuries to be victorious."
Father Patrick leaned forward. "Are you saying that you are finally recognizing the existence of the Neterus?" His voice was an awed whisper.
"We were wrong," the cardinal said, coming in closer to speak to Father Patrick in a conspiratorial whisper. "The Vatican has released the scrolls of the Templar trials and has reversed the decree of heresy. After seven hundred years, the Templars will be exonerated. We need you as warriors in these, the end of days."
The senior cleric spoke quickly, fervently, bending so that his and Father Patrick's faces and eyes were on the same level, his hands clasped in a plea. "You Templars have secrets; have guarded even the Holy Grail. Your organization was the richest in all of Europe and the entire banking institution that we know of today is based upon the development of your treasury. Cathedrals, castles, and enduring monuments were built by your financing, and there are secret passageways and tunnels that could lead people to safety now as then. Our resources are strained from all the . . . litigation of late." The cardinal briefly closed his eyes as shame filled his voice. "We must change the way things have been done or lose all credibility in the eyes of humanity, but more important, within the eyes of God."
"Somethingspecific has happened." Father Patrick stared at the cardinal. "It had to or you wouldn't have come to me. The Vatican never reverses itself."
"King Phillip was an animal . . . a debtor who was under the sway of dark forces and used the Templars to rob their treasuries-but he didn't get it all, only a small portion," the cardinal replied tensely, not directly answering Father Patrick's charge. "Back then we thought he was the Antichrist, but it was not time . . . there is one that has been made now."
"Yes. I'm well aware," Father Patrick said dryly. "I reported this to you and it was probably taken as seriously as any of my other reports. Now you want me to lead you to the Templars' hidden treasury because the mother church is falling on hard times for covering up the sins of her pedophile priests?"
"No! This is not about the money." The cardinal's hands trembled as he blotted his brow again. "This time the pope knows what you say is true."
Tense moments of silence passed as both men stared at each other. Father Patrick leaned forward, dropping some of his resistance and the shield of resentment he had toward his superior.
"What has changed?" Father Patrick placed a hand on the cardinal's forearm.
"The Beast has grown bold, confident,flagrant . It came to His Grace and made him an offer he was told not to refuse . . . and then laughed at him."
Father Patrick blinked twice, stunned.
"It threatened the pontiff's life and then cited all the abominations in the church's history . . . all the blood on the hands of so many popes and showed him a . . . a catalogue of souls from our ranks.From the Crusades to the Inquisition to even turning a blind eye to the holocausts of slavery and Hitler. Our treasuries have blood on the silver. And then it laughed and said that we could not even raise our mightiest warriors against him because we had even betrayed our Templars."
The cardinal dropped to his knees before a stunned Father Patrick and gathered up his hands within his. "Patrick, we must make amends and make our peace within our ranks. If the pontiff doesn't go along with this diabolical plan to endorse the Antichrist as a unifying world leader, he will be assassinated, a demon will replace his seat, and all that we know and love will cease. The human devastation will be quantum. We must reach out to all faiths, all denominations, and bring all people together who believe in the Almighty . . . join our treasuries to keep this disaster at bay. We can no longer have sects and remain fractured as a house divided."
"Who is the one the Beast asks him to endorse?"
"That's just it. We do not yet know. The Unnamed One is making his rounds, going to various senior political sectors within all the nations, striking his deals and positioning for the imminent ascension. The Catholic Church is a huge block of worldopinion, hence we are in the crosshairs of this travesty. But we have word that he's going to all the other major religious leaders, too-if any accept this deal, there could be complete chaos."
"The pontiff cannot yield to this."
"No. He will not. He would give his life, he will die first for the love of God . . . but he is playing along for now, just as the others presumably are." The cardinal gripped Father Patrick's hands tighter. "He will wait until the last moment . . . until he gets a name. That name will come to you from us, only to the Knights Templar, so that it can be given to the Neterus. There has also been secret agreement by Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, andHindu religious world leaders . . . the pontiff has met with them all, the Dalai Lama among them, and each has vowed to give the name they receive to their warrior representative within the Covenant."
Father Patrick closed his eyes."Finally." He let out a hard breath and then opened his eyes to stare at the cardinal. "It took the end of times for men to see that the angels preside over us all . . . how sad. Maybe the Devil serves a purpose after all."
"We have heard there are angels that have actually come to you . . . to your warriors." Nervous eyes stared back at Father Patrick.
"You are now reading my reports." Father Patrick's tone was even, years of struggle with the church hierarchy and all its bureaucracy making it tight and unsympathetic.
"Yes," the cardinal said, nodding fervently. "The angels have protected your warriors, true? They will hear your prayers in this most critical endeavor?"
"Yes." Father Patrick's eyes held his superior's, but now rather than being filled with rage, sudden compassion caused tears to rise within them. "You have gotten to this level and never been witness to a miracle, have you? It was all politics and positioning. Until this happened, you didn't truly believe that evil existed, did you?"
"We . . . we thought . . . people. . . . But this was an entity!"
Awed by the revelation, Father Patrick pressed on. "You knew men were evil. You knew people also did angelic things. Therefore there was no unseen for you, right? You believed in the deeds of mankind, but in your soul were very unsure of there being a real mystery of faith . . . so, in truth, you had lost the faith, had lost your way-you thought all this was theoretical, didn't you? Answer me, man!"
Agitated, Father Patrick fought off the cardinal's hands and unsuccessfully tried to stand. "You sent us out as exorcists really thinking human beings simply had psychological problems, and only kept the practice so that the so-called ignorant, common masses would stay with our church . . . but until Lucifer himself showed up in a chair facing the Pope and smiled at him, you didn't believe that the Devil existed, did you?" Father Patrick sat back in his chair, winded. "That old demon must have had quite a laugh . . . but I could have saved you and the pontiff the trouble of being surprised.I saw him and fought him . Foryears I tried to tell you this-for years, man, I tried to get through to you all but you treated me like a mental patient . . . or worse, like a child to be indulged and dismissed."
Two large tears rolled down the cardinal's cheeks without censure. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned . . . it has been years beyond your comprehension since my last honest confession. Do not forsake humanity because I, we, so many of uswere arrogant and vain. Come back to us and protect us. Pray for us. Forgive us. Bring the angels into our company. We are afraid."
"That was all I ever wanted," Father Patrick said quietly."The truth. I never got that from the Vatican hierarchy . . . just evasions and political equivocation."