The Trailokya Trilogy, Book 2: Burning Down

Prologue

Prologue

Máriabesnyő, Hungary, 1960

Pacing the hall outside the rectory office, the young, raven-haired priest called by his surname of Gallo tried to gather his thoughts and settle his nerves. The sneaking suspicion something very bad was about to happen crept over him like unseen spiders. He scratched the top of his head, while his eyes searched the old walls from behind a pair of old, wire-rimmed glasses for answers they didn't have. It had been an hour since the head priest of their church, Father Orius, left with their charge, an over seven-foot tall, red-haired restoration of his faith in shining armor. Despite the overwhelming joy he had felt in the messenger's presence, something unsettling had descended upon him since her parting. His dark eyes continued their examination of the gloomy space. Bethiah, they called her, Daughter of God. He nearly laughed, filled with secrets of truths beyond the capacity of many men or women, let alone an ability to accept such notions that mocked what he once thought he knew for certain. Gallo struggled with letting go of medieval teachings. They had grown comfortable.

The priest mused as he crossed the heavy wooden door of the rectory. This was the place he first met her. At the base of the stairs, he'd wondered if he walked in a dream, but time proved her authenticity. A shadow crept across the four glass panes set at the top of the portal. He held his breath, expecting the dark specter from that night. Then, he realized a tree branch swayed with the wind in the garden beyond. Gallo exhaled hard and shook his head. Now was no time to have an attack of nerves. Orius assured them they would be safe without their new friend there, and he never lied. Admittedly, the entity who challenged Bethiah was unlikely to show his face now that she was absent, and with only their paltry sustenance to sate his desire. Gallo considered the wisdom solid, especially with all he learned since the first night.

"Salvatore," a voice called from the hall behind.

Gallo faced the speaker. One of the brothers awaited him with hands folded at his waist, a bent figure with tale-filled lines in his face. The old friar was Tom, the eldest of their small clan. Tom bobbed his head and smiled. Gallo placed his hands on the friar's shoulders in a friendly gesture of easement. The old man clearly worried, despite his trouble to look cheerful.

"What is it, brother?"

"I think you should come and join us in our prayers. The brothers have something to share with you," Tom said.

Gallo assented and followed him. The elder brother led the way to their small prayer room. The young Timor held the door for them. The rest of his fellow priests were cloistered inside, wearing the simple robes of their order. Gallo considered their sallow faces, heads capped in their simple brown zucchetti, eyes toward the worn floor. Candles flickered and cast sharp shadows on the wall. The movement of light caught his eyes, tricking him into believing that one moved, like a man passing before them, but when his eye tried to catch it, the shadow had gone. Tom urged him to join the others, taking his attention away from the manifestation. Gallo's heart throbbed in his throat. Without Father Orius or Bethiah to protect them, they were at the mercy of the dark menace who broke their church with the ease of a child destroying a construction made of toy blocks. Paltry sustenance or not, he could hurt Bethiah by harming them. This is what truly bothered him. Scripture and Bethiah's stories both confirmed that the presence would delight in pain regardless of from whom it came.

"Salvatore, please sit," Tom said, pulling Gallo's arm.

Gallo nodded, distracted by his thoughts. He lowered onto one of the several benches they dragged into a circle. He shifted his attention away from the strange candlelit phantasms. Yet, his mind still pursued the strange shadow in hope of distinguishing its purposes.