Free Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I by Athanasios Page A

bringing them to
life. Out of the sun’s light they could take hold of imagination and not let go
until it turned to madness.
    Kosta knew the dangers but didn’t know that any
reading modified the final incarnation of the main character. His observation
in the light of day had brought it out of the darkness in which it had been
intended to grow.

 
    TIME: AUGUST 15th, 1961. SECRET ARCHIVES, VAULT 27,
SUB-BASEMENT 6, VATICAN

 
    Despite rubber soles the young man wore, his polished
shoes still snapped sharply on the metal stairs. He also wore the simple black
robe of a parish priest, to be comfortable working with the heavy old volumes
he lay down in front of his master’s mounting material. A scribbled note, held
at the end of a heavily knuckled hand, reached above the rising mound of old
texts and shook. No word was uttered as it continued to quiver, until removed
and taken back to rows of yet untouched books. The snap of shoes grew fainter
and more distant from the straining, weighed-down table.
    Tino Quentin sat very straight in his chair. He glanced
through pages, which would have been the envy of any museum. Each volume he
picked up, and then deposited, he treated with respect, but not reverence. He
was a practical man who would not mistreat his tools, but would not think more
of them than he would a serviceable hammer. Their worldly value was secondary
to their contents.
    At present, he searched through a ninth-century text,
which was one of the first codices written by an Irish monk named Thomas. It
held no title, just the volume number, six. Much of the information, for which
Seneschal Quentin searched, was in such unnamed texts. By themselves, the
passages he periodically copied meant nothing. Collectively, they spoke of
prophecies that would frighten most adults. Some might even hazard a nervous
snicker, but one look at his austere face would stop any intended ridicule.
    Tino Quentin did not joke. He did not even have
pastimes. If he was not actively completing his duties, he took care of bodily
needs — sleeping, eating and eventual evacuation. There was no room for
entertainment in Quentin’s life. He was humorless, direct and precise.
    As a child, he had briefly thought of becoming a
police officer or a judge, but thought the occupations limiting. He had also
considered the military, but knew that would limit his dedication to doing the
right thing. The priesthood seemed the correct choice.   Yet one day, just before he took final
vows, he was given the choice to serve Jesus by saving souls, or by saving the
world. On the eve of induction into the Dominican Order, this choice was
presented by a severe, wiry priest named Jonathan Harker.
    Father Harker also inducted some of his classmates,
but chose to fully explain himself to Tino. The order to which the mysterious
father belonged took the task of safeguarding the world very seriously. They
combed through the church’s records and interpreted information they then acted
upon, without hesitation. In their service, Tino would bring God’s just wrath
to his most ancient of foes. Tino accepted this without question. He never
doubted the temporal presence of evil and wanted to fight it. The task
perfectly suited his nature.
    In addition to his further, deeper instruction in the
unknown mysteries of the Catholic Church, he was trained in, what could only be
described as, covert operations. He learned to use most mundane objects as
weapons and dispose of anyone he deemed worth such attention. Some intelligence
services had the license to kill and the Templars had carte blanche.
    Nobody they eliminated was ever missed — at
least publicly. If they were, those whom objected too loudly were also
eliminated. They just disappeared. The ten years he spent learning his sacred
calling went by without notice and he found himself a full member of the
Brothers of the Temple. He rapidly rose in the ranks of the Brotherhood. In the
order, he encountered none of the