Of Saints and Shadows (1994) by Christopher Golden Read Free Book Online Page A

was in Boston, and now, nearly three more weeks had passed and he had set in motion a series of events that he hoped would accomplish the impossible. He plotted the destruction of the Roman Catholic Church. Foolish it might be, he assured himself, to think one renegade priest could do that kind of damage in a world where the faithful believed what they wished.
    Two young women passed by, hand in hand, and he silently wished them luck. A burly man proudly bore a cross on his chest, and Henri shook his head with pity. Down the sun-starved alleys of this old city, the homeless thrived in ever-increasing numbers, and they were the only ones who had escaped the machinations of church and state. The dark-suited and skirted businesspeople strutted by, strong in their belief in their own freedom—yet it was painfully obvious that their government had been manipulating them, lying to them for decades.
    He should talk, though, eh?
    He had readily swallowed deception, had taken faith like a miracle elixir that does nothing but confirm your illness, inspiring further consumption.
    “And who is the fool?” he whispered to himself. The greatest fool is the one who sees the truth and still believes in his own free will and power to act.
    But act he had, and he was certain he had not gone unnoticed. The keepers of the book would surely be on his trail, might even now be tracking him. He looked around from time to time, but nothing seemed amiss.
    As if he, an old man who’d seen one too many Alfred Hitchcock films, would actually know if he was being followed. He smiled at himself. Better, of course, to be as cautious as possible. He knew well the tendrils of Vatican power that snaked around this Earth.
    Another block of hotels and restaurants, screaming horns and shouting cabdrivers. Brakes squealed as those dark suits hurried toward lunch meetings, and Guiscard heard bits of nonsense conversation as they rushed past.
    The buildings created a valley through which the icy wind whipped, angrily buffeting the crowd with their backs turned toward it. Henri’s eyes watered and his teeth clenched and he shivered as he brushed the hair from his eyes. Above him, the sky was swollen and gray, a warning of the storm to come.
    He walked down a block, then turned and made his way back to the Park Plaza. He had made one huge circle, walking in the direction of Beacon Hill, then doubling back in an amateurish attempt to smoke out any predators.
    Inside, patrons and employees of all religions gave him a kind of deference that had always fascinated him but that he now found repulsive. It was the collar, he knew; it had once meant something to him, and for these people it symbolized the fact that something else was out there. That there was a plan and therefore a being or beings who had devised this plan.
    Well, he had good news and bad news for them. The good news was they were right. The bad news was they were right. Never wish too hard for something or you might just get it. He had heard that statement several times and only just recognized its humor.
    Across the lobby, doors opened into Legal Sea Food, where a hostess led him on a winding path through an ocean of business lunches, to arrive at a table where Daniel Benedict sat. The attorney had arrived early enough to gel a table in the busy restaurant, and Henri was glad to sit down. Time for business, though. Daniel’s face was grave.
    “Your waiter will be along shortly,” the hostess chirped before gliding away.
    “Good afternoon, Your Eminence.”
    “Please, Dan. I appreciate the respect and your sense of propriety, but it is unnecessary. Call me Henri, or Father Guiscard if you must.”
    “Sure, Father, sorry. To business then?”
    “To business,” he affirmed, but paused when he noticed how distracted Benedict was. “What’s wrong, Daniel? Something gone wrong with our business plan?” he asked, though he could see it was something more serious.
    “No, Father, nothing like that.”