where she thinks she has been. Asylum of Omen. Have you ever
heard of Asylum of Omen, Sarah?”
“No.”
“Most people haven’t.” Father Johns wipes his face slowly, then
gently strokes his nearly bald head.
“Asylum of Omen is a mystical place that most men of the
cloth would choose to ignore. I fortunately spend a lot of time
indulging myself in these ancient prophecies, finding the stories
intriguing. This is one place that strong documentation exists to
support its existence. Let me read you something.” Father Johns
stands and walks over to the dusty bookshelf. He pulls out a large volume. Its binding looks as if it will crumble at any instant, its pages thick and yellow. He sits down, carefully flipping through a
few pages, then reads:
“My love will redeem ye from Asylum, but ecstasy be thine
and joy of the universe. The child of thy bowels ye shall protect.
Thy mother be of divine nature but lost, lost to the perils of sin,
denouncing the light. These are the conditions of my love. I have
a secret glory, the earth shall be thine once more. The lord of sin
shall save your unwanted souls, thy has such power, I am the sorcerer and the exorcist. If thou can protect thy offspring, then ye
shalt be showered with love not shown by other kingdoms. Kiss
my lips, ye shall feel my love. Immorality or iniquity, wrongdoing
or evil, I who am all pleasure loves and desires you.” Father Johns
takes a moment to return the book to the shelf.
“I know this seems kind of strange, but basically what it is saying is, if the lost souls of Asylum of Omen can protect one of
Satan’s children born through a child of God who has lost her
way, they will attain access to hell. Then they will join the angels
of the beast and destroy and plunder the earth into forever darkness.”
“What souls are in the Asylum? What does this have to do with
me and my friend?” asks Sarah.
“Some call them mischiefmakers or evil-doers. It is believed
they are the souls of suicide and souls that are never born. They
are in turmoil. Taking your own life is the ultimate sin, and neither
heaven nor hell will accept these souls. And each time a child is
conceived, it obtains a new soul, and if it is not born, it is said
the soul is lost to Asylum. It seems, according to prophets, the
beast would grow weary of the constant battle between good and
evil. It would then propose a deal to the lost souls of Asylum,
so that they may attain admission into hell. When Jackie tossed
and turned that night, she talked about this prophecy in detail,
facts she couldn’t possibly have known. Most clergymen don’t even know this domain’s proper name. Well, the next day, Jackie wandered down here, into our secret passages under the church where men of God come to study the Word in seclusion. Trying to protect herself, she stole some candles and a crucifix. Heating the crucifix, she burned it into her skin all over her body. Those were the burns you saw. I assume she wanted to assure herself of
God’s protection.
“She told me there was an old man that tried to help. Is that
true?” Father Johns inquires.
“Yeah, Mr. Nicholas, what about him?” asks Sarah. “He was there, in Asylum. She said she has seen his face; she is
sure it’s the same man. At any time did he ever say his name was
Old Nick?”
“Sarah, another name for Satan is Old Nick,” the priest explains.
Sarah’s eyes grow wide.
“Wait, before you get too upset, I don’t think he was the devil. I
think he was just a servant or protector. You see, the mischiefmak-
ers, according to legend, will play with you, they are liars. They will
tell you who they are without really telling you.”
“But here to protect or serve who?” asks Sarah.
“That’s where your friend Melissa comes in. She’s pregnant; the
baby is not due for a few months. Am I right?”
“She isn’t pregnant, and if she was, how would you know?” “Jackie. That’s why she was summoned to the Asylum. She was
asked to protect the child. When she refused, she ran and was able
to escape. Do you know who the father might be?”
“No one I can think of. Oh no, not Harry!” Sarah suddenly
remembers.
Father Johns takes a deep breath, preparing himself to deliver
more grim news.
“For he the beast shall be known by many names, each as cold
as the icy tundra of hell,” Father Johns recites from memory. “Are you sure his name was Harry?” Father Johns pulls out a small book from one of his desk drawers. Flipping through some pages, he suddenly stops, then gently nods as if he has just confirmed his own suspicions. Father Johns then reads, “Oceans of peril shall surround man, the earth ravaged and robbed by the armies of Harry.” Father Johns pauses. “Harry is another name sometimes used to describe the Beast. I cannot be sure if they are one and the same, or your Harry may be simply a vessel. One of many the
Beast may use. Something is watching her.”
“I knew there was somethin’ different about him, he went
straight for her. Then he disappeared.” Sarah, becoming more
and more teary-eyed with each passing moment, asks, “If they’re
watchin’ Melissa, why do they need Jackie?”
“I don’t know,” the priest ponders.
“I’m sorry. Father, are you sure about all this? I mean, this
seems kinda strange, are you sure she’s pregnant? Are you certain
about all this stuff?” asks Sarah, rubbing her face, then clasping
her hands.
“Unfortunately, I cannot be totally sure, but as I said before,
Jackie recited information unknown to all except an elite few on
this entire planet.” The old man drifts slightly forward, peering
into Sarah’s eyes. “Sarah, I believe this prophecy is coming to pass,
and if I am correct, the fate of all mankind could rest in your
hands.” Sarah stares at the ceiling and gazes around the room.
Eventually she meets the old man’s weary eyes once more. “What do I have to do?” she asks quietly.
Father Johns stands, then walks around the large desk. Stand-
ing directly in front of Sarah, he places his hand on her head, his
palm covering her forehead. He serenely begins to recite a verse
from the Bible. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life.”
With a brief moment of silence, they both quietly pray within
themselves. Removing his hand, he walks back to the other side of
his desk, pushing his glasses firmly onto his face.
enough to her to find out if she is actually pregnant. They must
be used to you being around her now. They must be, because you
are still alive,” the priest says. Sarah recalls the young girl who had
warned her to leave. My father thinks you should leave, the doves
will not protect you.
“Father, do doves have anything to do with this?”
Father Johns takes a moment to ponder the question. “Doves are the symbol of peace. It is believed that they contain
the Holy Spirit, watching over us. Does that answer your ques-
tion?”
“Yes.”
Father Johns stands once more, reaching for a small wooden
cabinet directly behind him. Opening a small drawer, he pulls out
a golden pendant. “I will give you this pendant. It is filled with
holy water blessed by the Pope himself. I had it sealed. This should
be the only protection you need, but you cannot wear it until you
absolutely need it.” He places it into Sarah’s palm.
“Why?”
“They will feel its power and after that happens, God only
knows. You must keep it near, just in case you need it. Hide it
away from your body. They will only focus on you. When you
need it you must surprise them with its power. Once you leave
here, you must try and remain calm. They will be watching. Tell
Melissa you came to the church to see a friend, be cautious; they
will eavesdrop. More importantly, you must get Melissa here. That
is the only way we can help her. We must cleanse the soul of this
unborn child, because if we do not, its soul will be forever lost.” “How will this pendant help me?”
“Honestly, Sarah, I just have my faith. We are fighting a war
that has only been foretold. My instincts tell me this pendant will
help.”
Sarah nods, then grasps it tightly.
“Satan has to steal the soul of the human child, then replace
it with a new soul conjured by the Beast. I believe we still have
time.”
The two begin their tedious preparations for the battle that may
await them. Father Johns intensely reviews his chapters on Asy-
lum of Omen to find a weakness in Satan’s plans. As he searches,
Sarah methodically reviews the past weeks’ strange events. “Donald said they had trashed the apartment, but when we
came back, it had been cleaned and filled with food and stuff.
Then he was killed; I had just talked to him. He said Silas and
Marty were with him, and they were killed, too--slaughtered like
animals.”
“As you can see, these demons are capable of killing. That is
why you must be extra careful when approaching Melissa. You
must not get trapped within the realm of the beast. It seems the
apartment may serve as sort of a gateway between the other realm
and our world. As for the little girl, I have no explanation, but she
does seem to be a warning from the guardian of the child.” They continue to discuss their plans for a few more hours.
Father Johns believes that if Sarah can get Melissa out of the
apartment and close to the church, they may have a chance. If
she will not go willingly into the church, Father Johns, Sarah, and
other priests must subdue her. Sarah trembles as she listens to his
plans. Her hands are wet with sweat. She is terrified.
Father Johns reviews his plans in his mind. If we can get her
into a tub of pure holy water and submerge her body while reciting sacred verses, purifying her soul, we should be able to save
her.
7
A
few doors down from where Sarah and the priest discuss the holy task they have accepted, a young woman is driven mad by what she has seen.
The room still remains a dark dungeon, the kindling flame of the thick white candles still poorly illuminating it. Jackie paces back and forth, with her eyes wide and mouth frozen into a partial grin. The breeze of her gentle sway causes the delicate candle lights to flutter constantly.
Her clothes remain tainted with blood, smelling of urine and feces. Maintaining her hands in a position of evening prayer, she begins nervously blinking away tears, speaking in a low, peculiar tone.
“I saw your world. I know you’re watchin’ me. You in my head. You ain’t supposed to be there. I feel weak. I gotta sleep. I ain’t slept in days. I just wanna sleep, but I can’t.” Taking a brief pause, she continues with a laugh. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to sleep, but I won’t, you bastards! I won’t!”
Slamming herself into a seated position, she quickly grabs a sharp-edged rock and begins to carve another crucifix into her scorched arm. The sound and feeling of the tearing flesh does not hinder her act of protecting herself. Her forearm quivers violently as she digs deeper and deeper.
She does not see the redness of the blood that now races down to the palm of her hand. Because of the faint light, all she sees is a shimmering liquid splendidly reflecting the dancing candle flames.
The realization of her exhaustion overwhelms her. Her pain and bruising only increase her need for rest.
She looks around at her dismal surroundings. Incomprehensible voices suddenly fill her head, a strange type of eerie whisper- ing. Grasping her scalp, she becomes enraged. Never screaming, she rocks back with her mouth gaping open, and her self-inflicted wounds trickle more fervently. The alluring voices become louder and louder, before suddenly becoming quiet. The unstable rhythm of her heart becomes the dominant sound.
Looking around once more, she gazes at the decaying stonewall, then at the small petrified stand that serves as a base for one of the candles. Up the wall, her eyes steadily climb, passing the cobwebs and the dense wooden ceiling trim. Her eyes halt. With a fixed gaze, she peers steadily at the ceiling’s sturdy beams.
The incomprehensible voices embrace her thoughts once more; feelings of despair overcome her.
8
“ D on’t forget to look up that stuff about what happened at the hospital that night,” reminds Sarah. “I think more happened in that hospital. You should try to see those nurses.”
“Don’t you worry about that, you just worry about the task at hand.” Father Johns gestures Sarah out into the night. He has instructed her to go home as soon as possible, so as not to arouse any suspicion. Upon closing the heavy sacred door, he turns around, changing his expression from a reassuring smile to serious concern. “We must get things properly prepared,” he says, speaking to a man standing silently behind him dressed in a monk’s robe. Vincent’s face is expressionless; he stands with his hands tightly clasped in front of him. Without uttering a word, he falls in step directly behind the casually dressed priest.
Sarah strolls along the night streets with only her faint shadow to keep her company. The auburn streetlights radiate the sleeping cars waiting anxiously for the morning rush hour. One street light seems knowledgeable of the evil in town; it flickers violently as Sarah passes quietly. The twilight heavens again allow the majestic crescent moon to hover steadily above. The streets resemble the calm just before the storm--so still, so quiet.
As Sarah peers upward, she wishes she could be on any one of those twinkling planets. She feels her fate up there, in the unknown. There would be better than what she may face in the next few hours. She isn’t sure if she is being followed or if it’s just her shadow giving her this sense of uneasiness. Her hands become cold and clammy, and she shivers at the thought of returning to 202 L Avenue.
She remembers the huge black bird that perched on their fire escape this morning. She remembers how arrogantly it waltzed side to side, announcing its presence to the world. She recalls its evil shrill breaking the morning calm.
The evening air is breezy and holds a slight chill. Brisk flashes of cool air pass Sarah as she walks the lonely streets. Sarah, wearing only a thin shirt and jeans, crosses her arms in order to con- serve body heat.
As she enters the Ironbound section of the city, she knows her destination is only a few blocks away. Her armpits itch and sting with perspiration as if she has suddenly developed a tropical rash. Blood rushes throughout her body with the aid of a nervous, rapidly beating heart. Dabbing her palms on her jeans, she tries to eliminate the clammy, cold feeling. Her
pupils dilate; she blinks frantically, trying to maintain composure. Her feet become drasti- cally heavier as she gets closer to the unholy building.
Once in front of the building, she realizes she must appear as normal as possible. Dabbing her palms once more, she grasps the cold brass knob. Turning it ever so gently, she pushes the door open. With a small creak of its rusty hinges, the small walkway is revealed. Taking a deep breath, she proceeds to open the inner door. The hall, quiet and peaceful, is well lit. As usual, the other apartments look undisturbed; their doors remain tightly shut. One step at a time, she quietly walks up the winding stairway, tightly grasping the brown wooden banister.
Dabbing her hands once more on her blue jeans, she feels an unfamiliar knot in her side pocket.
Oh no! she screams to herself. Sarah had forgotten all about the precious pendant she was carrying.
Father Johns said they could sense it, maybe they don’t know I’m here. I’ll just hide it! Sarah feels her pulse beginning to race; the anxiety she desperately has tried to suppress is out of control. Beads of perspiration begin to form within the creases on her forehead; her hands grow clammy once more. Even her breasts are involved, itching. Her nervous system kicks into overdrive, preparing her body for the unknown.
Frantically, she hides the golden pendant with its precious water in a small crease in the wallpaper.
I’ll put it here just in case I need it, it’ll be close by. Father Johns said if I put it around my neck, it should give me enough protection until I can get back to the church. I hope he’s right.
When she reaches the third level, she walks as lightly as possible down the dimly lit hall. With each step, the door seems to drift farther away.
Standing directly in front of the door, Sarah takes a series of breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She then grasps the handle and unlatches the lock.
9
Back at the Cathedral, Father Johns opens the room where Jackie hides from the demons who have given her a terrifying offer. The candles have burned down to the furniture
on which they stand. The wet wax has dripped along the sides, creating a beautiful, white icicle-like form. The priest peers deep into the shadows, trying to get a glimpse of where Jackie may be. Reaching up, he tries to ignite the bulb that normally looms just in front of the doorway. He quickly notices it is gone. He cautiously walks deeper into the blackened room.