Rise Of The Nephilim

Phillipo sat silently inside the narrow confessional, his eyes closed. He had to save as many souls as possible before the end. It weighed heavily on him. I can’t be the only one who has been given such a mammoth task. There must be others. The world is a big place.

The sudden sliding of the confessional curtains startled him. Someone entered from the other side of the booth.

“Well, what have you to confess today?” he asked.

“Father, I know where the Dark Dragon lives.”

“The Dark Dragon?” He’d heard that name before. He immediately leaned forward and slid open the confessional window. It was a young goth, a teenage boy.

“I’ve seen you before,” Phillipo said. It was one of the goth boys he’d encountered while on the bus on his way to see Maybie.

“Yes, Father.”

“When, last, we met, you called me ‘dude.’ What should I call you?”

“Pete.” He was slow to answer. Phillipo had gotten the impression that it had been some time since he’d said his own name.

He stared at Phillipo, terror in his eyes. He still wore the long scar made by the edge of Āmand’s razor-sharp wings across his face; it was red and swollen, with black stitching crisscrossing its length.

“Did you hear me, Father? I said I know where the Dragon lives.”

“What is this Dark Dragon you keep talking about?”

“The Devil. We know where he lives.”

Phillipo contemplated what he’d just heard.

“Father?”

“Yes . . . yes, I’m just trying to decide exactly what you mean.”

“I mean, I’ve seen him! He lives underground, somewhere in the subway.”

Smiling, Phillipo asked, “The subway?”

“This is not a joke, Father!”

“You forget where you are, boy. There’s no subway here in Brewster.”

“I know, Father. I mean in the city.”

“That’s a long way from here.”

“Dude, will you just listen?”

Phillipo shot him a stern look. He was about to speak when he remembered his visit by Mathias―how, when he’d tried to convince the other priests of that visit, he had been branded insane and unbelievable.

“He did this to me,” the boy said pointing to the scar on his face.

“How, son?”

“My friends and I were on the train with this girl. Some freaky bitch―”

“Hey, watch your tongue!”

“Oh, sorry. Anyway, we took it to the city―”

“The train you mean.”

“Yes. And when we got to Grand Central Station, Morry had some fucked up―I mean, an idea to follow the freak.”

“Okay. So, you followed her to where?”

“Dude, I think she was crazy or something. We thought that she would hop on another train―maybe to the village. But the freak stayed underground. We followed her to some tunnel. That’s when she went nuts and attacked us,” he said.

“Oh, she attacked you? I thought you said the Devil.”

“Dude, just listen!”

“Make it quick; there are people waiting to make their confessions.”

“Dude, we didn’t see him coming. He was like some phantom. Next thing I know, my face was almost split in half.”

“Are you sure that you didn’t get into some kind of fight or something?” Phillipo asked.

“You gotta believe me, man,” the boy insisted, his eyes filled with fear.

“What did this girl look like?”

“A freak! I mean, she had bug eyes, and they looked like they were glowing or something, like some alien freak.”

“Really, glowing eyes, huh?”

“Listen, I’m telling you, man. Something is going down. Something weird is happening. You gotta believe me, man. You gotta do something!”

Phillipo softened his hard expression. He studied the boy’s face for a few seconds and saw the fear in his eyes. “Is this why you’re here? Because you think, I can get rid of the Devil? Pray him into nonexistence?”

“Well, you’re a priest, man. You’re supposed to know about all that stuff.”

With some hesitation, Phillipo asked, “What if I told you that you are right about something going down.”

“What, you know something?”

“Yes, son, I do. Would you believe me if I told you that I was visited by an Angel?”

“What the . . . an Angel? Man, you’re tripping.”

“You want me to believe that you were attacked by the Devil. Is it so hard to believe that an Angel spoke to me?”

“Whatever, man. I just thought that if we had a priest with us, we could whip the Devil’s ass―maybe do some of that exorcist stuff. You know, send him back to hell.”

“What? What are you spike-heads planning?”

“Listen, dude, just forget it. You’re just a crazy ass priest anyway,” the boy said as he turned to exit the confessional.

“Son, don’t waste your time chasing shadows,” said Phillipo. “Confess your sins today, and your soul will be saved.”

“That was a waste of fucking time,” the boy mumbled beneath his breath as he turned and walked away, his hands tucked inside his pockets. “Crazy ass priest.”