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HE COULD SEE THEIR shadows through the window, distorted images gliding along the walls of the Cardinal’s apartment. Ghostly shapes danced, colliding, merging, forming new shapes that danced again. And then he was there. Dominic. The Key, standing at the window where he was in perfectly clear sight.
If he had had a gun, the Key would be dead by now. The Novice allowed the image of a bullet tearing through the Key’s body, ripping into muscles and veins and organs, to form in his mind. But a gun and a bullet were so impersonal, he thought. Dominic was the Key, and death by a bullet was not what the Novice had in mind for him. He would not destroy the Key with gunpowder and lead. The Key would have to be killed properly. It would be slow process that would allow the Key’s energy to be absorbed. The Novice, who would then put it to its rightful use within the Order and the Society.
The Novice crouched down slightly, leaning back onto the knee high stone wall. From this angle he watched as the Key gesticulated. The movements were that of an angry and confused man. He laughed as he read into Dominic’s movements, noting how Dominic could not control his emotions, letting them spew out in hand gestures.
The Novice allowed his mind’s eye to conjure up an image of Dominic and the slut that clung to him. His thoughts slowly unfolded the pictures of Dominic’s death and hers. He did not hate the Key, just as the predator does not hate his prey. Each understands their role in life and death. And while the prey may not die willingly, it does in the end cease its struggle and allow the predator to take its energy. The Key and The Novice had their callings. Only one would succeed. No remorse. No regrets. Just destiny. He understood and respected the Key. The Key too had been called, not by God, as the Order and The Novice had been, but by man. That was the Key’s downfall. He served man and not God. He would have to be killed properly, with dignity. The Novice had formulated his plan for the Key’s death, in preparation for Brother Salvatore’s unsuccessful attempt. The good Brother had not failed, he realized, instead it was clearly in God’s plan that he should be the one to slay the Key. He would take his time with the Key, and he would kill him, respectfully, allowing the Key to give up his life’s energy willingly.
But the slut could die the way a slut should. A smile spread across The Novice’s face. He would not need to be gentle with her. Instead, he could take great pleasure in her death and enjoy himself. He convulsed slightly, blood flowing to his penis, expanding it. She would be punished for serving man and betraying God. He convulsed again at the thought of what he must do. His penis had grown hard and erect and he fought to keep control of himself.
Tonita skirted by the window and his rage, both, internally and in his groin, grew to near bursting.
The Novice closed his eyes and prayed. Give me control to do what is right. Give me the power to do what I must. I will give you the glory. He repeated the prayer in Aramaic to himself several times, until his rage and his penis went flaccid, and his control returned, a sure sign that God had heard him. He opened his eyes and glanced back to the window.
There, Cardinal Celent stood, perfectly backlit by the interior lights. A halo surrounded him, like a scene from a DaVinci painting of some angel or saint. The Cardinal’s back was to the room and a sliver of light reflected off of the windowpane, casting a glow on Cardinal Celent’s face.
The Novice flushed. His face reddened and bumps rose on his arms. He stood, no longer concerned about concealing himself in the shadows of the wall, as he could clearly see that Cardinal Celent was staring directly at him.