Novel

[Camelo]

CHAPTER 2
One mile away, the hulking albino named Silas
limped through the front gate of the luxurious
brownstone residence on Rue La Bruyere. The
spiked cilice belt that he wore around his thigh
cut into his flesh, and yet his soul sang with
satisfaction of service to the Lord.
Pain is good.
His red eyes scanned the lobby as he entered
the residence. Empty. He climbed the stairs
quietly, not wanting to awaken any of his fellow
numeraries. His bedroom door was open; locks
were forbidden here. He entered, closing the
door behind him.
The room was spartan - hardwood floors, a pine
dresser, a canvas mat in the corner that served
as his bed. He was a visitor here this week, and
yet for many years he had been blessed with a
similar sanctuary in New York City.
The Lord has provided me shelter and purpose in
my life.
Tonight, at last, Silas felt he had begun to repay
his debt. Hurrying to the dresser, he found the
cell phone hidden in his bottom drawer and
placed a call.
"Yes?" a male voice answered. "Teacher, I have
returned." "Speak," the voice commanded,
sounding pleased to hear from him.
"All four are gone. The three senechaux...and the
Grand Master himself."
There was a momentary pause, as if for prayer.
"Then I assume you have the information?" "All
four concurred. Independently." "And you
believed them?"
"Their agreement was too great for coincidence."
An excited breath. "Excellent. I had feared the
brotherhood's reputation for secrecy might
prevail." "The prospect of death is strong
motivation." "So, my pupil, tell me what I must
know."
Silas knew the information he had gleaned from
his victims would come as a shock. "Teacher, all
four confirmed the existence of the clef de
voute...the legendary keystone."
He heard a quick intake of breath over the
phone and could feel the Teacher's excitement.
"The keystone.Exactly as we suspected."
According to lore, the brotherhood had created a
map of stone - a clef de voute...or keystone - an
engraved tablet that revealed the final resting
place of the brotherhood's greatest secret...
information so powerful that its protection was
the reason for the brotherhood's very existence.
"When we possess the keystone," the Teacher
said," we will be only one step away." "We are
closer than you think. The keystone is here in
Paris." "Paris? Incredible. It is almost too easy."
Silas relayed the earlier events of the evening...
how all four of his victims, moments before
death, had desperately tried to buy back their
godless lives by telling their secret. Each had told
Silas the exact same thing - that the keystone
was ingeniously hidden at a precise location
inside one of Paris's ancient churches - the Eglise
de Saint-Sulpice.
"Inside a house of the Lord," the Teacher
exclaimed. "How they mock us!" "As they have
for centuries." The Teacher fell silent, as if letting
the triumph of this moment settle over him.
Finally, he spoke. "You have done a great service
to God. We have waited centuries for this. You
must retrieve the stone for me. Immediately.
Tonight. You understand the stakes."
Silas knew the stakes were incalculable, and yet
what the Teacher was now commanding
seemed impossible. "But the church, it is a
fortress. Especially at night. How will I enter?"
With the confident tone of a man of enormous
influence, the Teacher explained what was to be
done.
When Silas hung up the phone, his skin tingled
with anticipation.
one hour, he told himself, grateful that theOne
Teacher had given him time to carry out the
necessary penance before entering a house of
God. I must purge my soul of today's sins.The
sins committed today had been holy in purpose.
Acts of war against the enemies of God had
been committed for centuries. Forgiveness was
assured.
Even so, Silas knew, absolution required sacrifice.
Pulling his shades, he stripped naked and knelt in
the center of his room. Looking down, he
examined the spiked cilice belt clamped around
his thigh. All true followers of The Way wore this
device - a leather strap, studded with sharp
metal barbs that cut into the flesh as a perpetual
reminder of Christ's suffering. The pain caused by
the device also helped counteract the desires of
the flesh.
Although Silas already had worn his cilice today
longer than the requisite two hours, he knew
today was no ordinary day. Grasping the buckle,
he cinched it one notch tighter, wincing as the
barbs dug deeper into his flesh. Exhaling slowly,
he savored the cleansing ritual of his pain.
Pain is good, Silas whispered, repeating the
sacred mantra of Father Josemaria Escriva - the
Teacher of all Teachers. Although Escriva had
died in 1975, his wisdom lived on, his words still
whispered by thousands of faithful servants
around the globe as they knelt on the floor and
performed the sacred practice known as"
corporal mortification."
Silas turned his attention now to a heavy
knotted rope coiled neatly on the floor beside
him. TheDiscipline. The knots were caked with
dried blood. Eager for the purifying effects of his
own agony, Silas said a quick prayer. Then,
gripping one end of the rope, he closed his eyes
and swung it hard over his shoulder, feeling the
knots slap against his back. He whipped it over
his shoulder again, slashing at his flesh. Again
and again, he lashed.
Castigo corpus meum.
Finally, he felt the blood begin to flow.