The magnificent, century-old St. John the Baptist Church in the heart of New Haven was known for its beautiful architecture, soaring altar, and an unmatched collection of stained glass in the main sanctuary. The church also boasted a massive organ with more than seventeen hundred individual pipes. Visitors often drifted around the facility, taking pictures and speaking in whispers.
This Thursday afternoon’s visitors were anything but usual.
Shemhazai walked purposefully through the front doors into the main chapel. He didn’t pause to take in the beauty of the sanctuary but strode towards the nave. He’d been in the church before. Even on the first occasion he hadn’t taken any notice of the scale of the building. It wasn’t important.
He stopped at one of the huge oak pews, at least fifty feet long. A man with a beard sat about twenty feet along the pew. The church was empty save for a few tourists who kept close to the outer walls, examining the stained glass.
Shemhazai wore his library security guard uniform. He slid silently down the pew until he was next to the heavy-set bearded man who sat, head bowed, hands folded in his lap. He wore a dark green raincoat and a large black fedora. Shemhazai could hear the man praying quietly.
“It is my only intention to provide service to You and bring about closure to the earthly transgressions. Provide us guidance as the days to absolution draw close. Your servant, Azazel.”
Shemhazai waited until Azazel turned and made eye contact. “Do you really think God listens to our prayers?” Shemhazai asked.
“Would we really be doing what we’re doing if we thought God wasn’t listening?” Azazel asked.
Shemhazai nodded.
“Do you have news?” Azazel asked.
Shemhazai laughed sharply. “Seventy generations spent in purgatory waiting for this moment and you are impatient. If nothing else, I would have thought so many years would have taught you patience.”
“Those years taught me only impatience,” Azazel said flatly.
“Okay, I’ll get to the point. I wanted to meet you because I found the last one.”
“The boy? He is here?”
“Yes. He came to the library. He read the book.”
Azazel shook his head in disbelief. “It’s fitting that the search ends here. Once the boy is gone, all that’s left is the book. The final betrayal. We can destroy both.”
“There is a complication,” Shemhazai announced.
Azazel looked at the altar. “The undercover priest.” He sighed.
“Yes. He suspects the boy can read the book.”
“How do you know that?” Azazel asked.
“I was watching on the security feed. The boy couldn’t have read more than a word or two, but he certainly upset the old priest.”
“We should act now,” Azazel said and nodded.
“I’m not convinced,” Shemhazai argued quietly. “The church is involved. We cannot avoid this fact. If we act with haste we might draw unwanted attention.”
Azazel laughed, and a few tourists glanced in their direction. “What do we care about drawing attention? We are talking about our very existence.”
“Even still,” Shemhazai continued. “I would like to control all of the elements. I think we should acquire the book and then take care of the boy after we are convinced of the intentions of the church.”
“The intentions of the church are to expose us!” Azazel spat the words.
“The church cannot be our enemy!” Shemhazai retorted. “Let us not forget that the war is only amongst ourselves. All others are innocent — including the bodies we now inhabit.”
Azazel grimaced. “Look at this body.” He held his arms out, exposing a bulbous gut. “This glutton was hardly innocent when I took him. If not for me he would be a dead glutton — his heart exploded in his chest.”
“Even so,” Shemhazai said. He didn’t want to be reminded of the young body he had taken. The man, Larry Zarinski, was hurt badly in a car accident. By taking the body Shemhazai had helped it heal, but it pained him to think he had replaced a young man’s soul with his own. “We should proceed with caution.”
“Just get the book,” Azazel said. He stood and began shuffling toward the aisle. “Get the book,” he said over his shoulder.
Shemhazai nodded.