The Covenant Of The Flame

'What?'

'You're as fanatical as they are!'

The stranger's calm reaction surprised her. The situation demands fanaticism. After all, a determined enemy requires an even more determined opponent.'

'That's not what I meant. One god. Two gods. You think you're right. They believe they're right. The world's collapsing, and you're fighting each other about theology! If anything, I empathize with the other side. At least, they're working to save the planet.'

'But they're also trying to kill you,' the stranger said. 'And they've succeeded in killing many others. Do you condone political assassination? Do you approve of the murders of industrialists, financiers, and-?'

'Your goal is to execute the heretics. Nothing would please you more. Killing. That's what you're about. How can you blame them for doing the same thing you do?'

'There's a difference,' the stranger said. 'I'm engaged in a war. But I kill combatants, not civilians. In contrast, they kill without discrimination. They destroy the innocent as well as the guilty. Your mother. Her only fault was that she happened to be present when they tried to kill you. For your mother's sake, I would have expected you to want revenge.'

'Yes, I do want someone to pay, but… Oh, Lord, help me. I'm so confused.'

'You're not alone,' the stranger said. 'To kill contradicts my very purpose as a priest. And yet…'He lowered his gaze. 'I pledged myself to protect the faith.'

The vestibule became silent.

Craig took advantage of the pause. 'I've got a lot more questions.'

'Yes. By all means.' The stranger slowly raised his head.

'You said that the heretics hurried from Spain when the Inquisition came too close.'

'Correct.'

'Then they went to Morocco.'

'Yes.'

'Which explains Joseph Martin's fascination with The Dove's Neck Ring, a treatise on courtly love, written by a Moor who immigrated to Spain.'

The stranger nodded.

'That also explains why Joseph Martin looked vaguely Spanish. Swarthy. Dark-haired. With Latin features as opposed to French. Does that mean the heretics not only blended with but bred with the local population?'

'Yes,' the stranger said. 'At the start, the group was so small that the vermin needed to replenish their gene pool. They converted their spouses to Mithraism and swore them to secrecy.' The stranger gestured. 'But you didn't mention one more detail about their features. In some descendants of the vermin, there's an unusual gene that makes their eyes gray. It's one of the few means we have to identify them.'

'Gray.' With a pang of grief, Tess vividly remembered the compelling color of Joseph's eyes. Their intensity. Their charisma.

'But if the Inquisition came so dangerously close that the heretics abandoned Spain,' Craig asked, 'why do you think that the central nest is still in…?'

'Spain? Although the heretics came from France, they eventually considered Spain their homeland. We believe they returned. We've searched. But we haven't been able to find that nest.'

'Another question. And this one really bothers me,' Craig said.

The stranger motioned for Craig to continue.

'If Joseph Martin believed in Mithras, why did his fellow believers turn against him?' Craig asked. 'Why did they hunt him down and set fire to him in Carl Schurz Park? It doesn't make sense for them to turn against one of their own.'

'Ah, yes, Joseph Martin. Interesting. He'd have made an excellent informant,' the stranger said.

Tess felt a tremor of confusion. 'Informant? What do you-?'

'As my associates continued searching, they discovered something totally unexpected,' the stranger said. 'One of the heretics had bolted from the ranks. The deserter was appalled that his group was engaged in massive killing. He fled, determined to practise his religion in private. Cautious, he assumed many false identities, moving from city to city, aware that his former brethren would now consider him a security risk. After all, he knew too much, and if he revealed what he knew, he might have directed us toward his brethren. Obviously, from the heretics' viewpoint, the man who eventually called himself Joseph Martin had to be killed. So while we tried to find him, his brethren did the same. Los Angeles. Chicago. New York. We followed his trail. We found him. But my associates waited too long. They hoped that the vermin who tracked him would also arrive. My associates wanted many targets. Unfortunately, their plan didn't work, and Joseph Martin was killed.'

'Not just killed. He was burned!' Tess said.

'Of course. Why does that surprise you? Remember the torch of Mithras. The god of the sun. Of fire. That's why the vermin are so devoted to killing with flames.'

'Don't sound so righteous. They're not alone in that. Didn't the Inquisition also kill with flames?' Tess demanded.

'True. There is, however, a distinction.'

'Tell me about it!'

'Their fire, like the phoenix rising, sends their victims to another life, or so they believe. To them, death doesn't always lead to heaven or hell but rather to another stage in existence, a rebirth, a further chance for salvation. Reincarnation. One of the reasons they want the world to survive. So they can be reborn,' the stranger said. 'But our fire punishes, nullifies, and purifies, reducing sin to ashes. More, it gives the vermin a foretaste of the ravaging flames of hell.'

'Yes. That's what this conversation keeps coming back to. Hell.' Tess grimaced.

'Not only that.'

'What?'

'We have to go back to something else.'

'What?' Tess repeated.

'Just as I'm confident that you intend to keep your promise of silence, so I kept my promise. I've told you what I know. Now I repeat. I ask what I did at the start. Will you cooperate? To save your life, are you prepared to help us exterminate the vermin?'

'Save my life? Exterminate the…? I don't see how the two are related.'

'It's really quite simple.'

'Not to me, it isn't.'

'To prevent you from revealing information about them, the vermin will continue to hunt you. The only way to stop them is for you to help us complete our mission.' 'And how am I supposed to do that?' The stranger's gaze intensified. 'By presenting yourself as bait.'

TWENTY-TWO

Again Tess finched, the pain in her forehead sharper. 'But that means nothing's changed. I'll still be in danger!'

'I guarantee we'll protect you,' the stranger said.

'That's bullshit,' Craig said. 'You know you can't possibly guarantee that. The minute Tess shows herself, the minute the killers find out where she is, they'll organize an attack. They've proven how determined they are. The only defense I can think of is to get Tess to a safe house and surround it with policemen.'

'But how long will they stay there?' The stranger shook his head. They can't keep guard forever. It's too expensive. Eventually they'll be needed elsewhere. For that matter, how long will they manage to remain alert? After a few days, if nothing happens, it's human nature for a sentry to lose his edge, to start to get bored. And that's when-',

'Wait. I know how to save myself!' Tess interrupted.

'Oh?' The stranger sounded skeptical.

'There's an easy solution!'

'Really?' Now the stranger sounded perplexed. 'If so, I haven't thought of it.'

'All I have to do is tell everyone I meet. The police. Reporters. TV crews. Whoever. I mean everyone. About what's happened. About Joseph. About my mother. About the heretics and why they want to kill me. If their motive is to shut me up, after I've finished blabbing, they won't have a reason to shut me up. Because I'll have already told what they didn't want me to say! Don't worry. I promised. I'll leave you out of this. But your enemy-!'