Kostadino Paleologos is a descendant of Byzantine emperors and lives with honour, duty and sacrifice. He returns to Istanbul to send trapped souls to their deserved rest. The final soul sends him on a quest to the mythic, ancient Library of Alexandria. There he finds a unique book which convinces him to abduct the infant Antichrist and raise him as his own.
Volume II is chapters 5-8 of Mad Gods: Download Vol I (chapters 1-4)
Excerpt:
The echo of a shot was followed by the sharp sound of a gun hitting the floor. Two men faced the one who had fired, but were too shocked to be frightened.
"I don't want to hear excuses for your incompetence" the high, raspy voice continued. "You find the boy, or you won't be as lucky as he!!" Mossy Akhbar had never seen his master in this state. He was used to a cold voice, which seemed to come from a great distance. Even in moments of great anger, it never rose above a monotone.
"Get that meat out of here." Balzeer McGrath indicated the body, staining the carpet at his feet. Three rail-thin men appeared from behind heavy black velvet curtains. They picked the body up and carried it away from their master's view, followed quickly by Mossy.
"Mordecai, what have the others reported?" He collapsed into a great chair. He had used a gun, but distasteful as that was, the blood had made up for it. He used an old massive Browning pistol. Fired five feet away from a target, it would create a hole, large enough that a full-grown cat could crawl through it.
And the blood, oh what a splatter.
Mordecai came forward and, before answering, eyed the stain on the floor. He had seen days like this, which had dominoed into a bloodbath. He had to be mindful of what he said. If he had to lie in his response, he had better be convincing. Supreme Tribunal McGrath was definitely in a mood.
"As Harold has indicated, Master, the Redeemer did not come. Nowhere in Jerusalem were the sings for the monumental birth for which we have hoped. It seems…" A halting hand silenced him. He looked away, then back.
"I don't feel him," the hand then went to his mouth. "I did for a space, then he was gone. I felt it. I saw the moment of his birth in the stars. We all know that he isn't in Jerusalem, idiot. Where is he?"
The Supreme Tribunal had others to whom he was expected to answer. They did not tolerate ignorance or explanations. They did not have horns and tails, as the initiates believed, but were no less ruthless. Since history had begun, they had engineered and overseen plans.
"Guide us, sir. We do not know where to look." Mordecai Aronovich could see that Balzeer was losing his grip on reality. This was the most monumental event since Christ's birth and he had lost any semblance of control. For the past nine months, he had dispatched acolyte after acolyte to every corner of the earth. He could have made another Redeemer by now. One thing was now clear to everyone – their master did not know where to find him their saviour. He had relied entirely on age-old prophecies and the ramblings of shackled psychics. Their Redeemer would come and the head of Lucifer's Church had lost him, poof, just like the proverbial smoke and brimstone.
"Why don't we sacrifice?" Mordecai knew Balzeer found summoning distasteful. It wasn't the blood he found unappealing, rather the work.
He had gotten lazy. He preferred to shoot someone. Where was the lovely whisper that came with the slash or stab of a knife? An especially sharp knife could make a wound seem part of the body, until the slit opened up and released its gory charge.
"No. I'll meditate on it. We'll find him. We have to." Balzeer knew that Mordecai was testing him. In another ten years, Balzeer saw Mordecai in his chair. There was nothing he could do to stop it.
