It's sad, but I don't own a single hair on Silas's head and any of The Da Vinci Code characters…
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Theosis.
"God became Man so that Man might become God."
St. Athanasius of Alexandria.
"A sure warrant for looking forward with hope to deification of human nature is provided by the incarnation of God, which makes man god to the same degree as God Himself became man. For it is clear that He who became man without sin will divinize human nature without changing it into the divine nature, and will raise it up for His own sake to the same degree as He lowered Himself for man's sake."
St. Maximus the Confessor.
His fervent prayers have never been answered to him, yet he prayed - the whisperings of a madman fell from his lips. He punished himself – he wasn't worthy of The Lord's forgiveness for the sins he committed, the lives he ended… And though he knew he would never be worthy of passing through the Golden Gates, the idea of his soul resting in peace, entering the realm of God was so… sweet, like the "blood of Christ" that touched his lips once a year…
That very night he believed he had achieved his goal, that the Merciful had accepted him, forgiven him for his sins… The sinful felt the angels caress him lightly. A single touch made him twitch in an unbearable pain, beyond any human's imagination, yet he moaned in a lustful pleasure, craving for more, his body demanded for attention…
The young man felt something that he had never felt in his entire life, filled with darkness, doomed creatures that acted (supposedly) in the name of God, profanities and murders. He felt as if this miraculous touch, these non-existing careful and loving fingers revived every cell of his body, every particle of his being. The only thing he wanted to feel was the touch of the divine beings, the feeling grew into something much stronger – not only he didn't want the caress to stop, he would fight for it. He felt jealousy rise in him – no one in this world would experience the same burning sensation of pleasure he felt... No one.
Under a strange and violent impulse he grabbed the angel's fingers, crushing them in his powerful fist… He heard something metal fall down and a muffled squeak reached his ears, a damp piece of fabric fell upon his bare chest. Silas woke up… A strange creature twitched and bent in pain in front of him, its feeble, long fingers trembled in the albino's hand. He could not see the creature's face, nor the creature could see his red eyes gleaming dangerously in the dark of the night, as if they were emitting some kind of inner light. In a completely silent and precise move the monk let go of his "victim", spinning the creature around, and grabbed it by the neck. Silas let out a strange low key sound that resembled a growl of a hurt and betrayed animal – he tightened his grip around this seductive demon's throat, pushing him down, almost burying him in the bed sheets as if he wanted to make a hole in the mattress. The anger the albino felt was overwhelming – he was now sure that the creature in front of him wasn't an angel at all, instead it was a lustful demon, trying to lead him to a path of sin… Had he not taken enough beatings in the name of God? Would not his Father keep him safe from such vile creatures?
"Why?" He whispered angrily, hearing the demon choke and agonize, scratching the monk's arm in a desperate attempt of freeing himself… Then suddenly Silas saw something that made him loose his grip. The "vile creature" that coughed and sobbed on the sheets, was a human being, a young woman, or a girl, judging by the slight hint of a bust under her white blouse. His hand was wet, Silas licked his crooked, almost transparent fingers – the salty liquid reminded him of his own tears.
He looked around, trying to distinguish any kind of furniture besides his bed; the only thing he could see was a faint glow of the moon and the lights of a huge megalopolis…
"Moscou…" The albino hissed under his breath with genuine hatred. He scowled once again.
Silas stood up and rose in front of the weeping girl, he was bleeding profusely, powerful, naked and unrelenting. His eyes were searching for anything that he could use to silence the pathetic weak creature that was now lying by his bare dirty feet – but the darkness hid and dissolved any kind of shapes, forms and objects. Not being able to find any kind of object that could turn into a potential weapon, the albino monk didn't hesitate to kick the sinful woman in the guts – she moaned in pain and rolled on her back, scared out of her mind. The girl gasped for air and before the aggressor could hurt her again, she stood up, bumping into an armchair, she had been sleeping in for the past week… She fell down and grabbled to a nearby corner, the teen's eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't dare to sob, since the monk would find her and most certainly kill her. What did she do to this maniac? God Merciful, she only wanted to help this young man! He stepped heavily on the old parquet; he could only guess where was the filthy woman who dared to touch him when he was defenseless, unconscious. The furious monks grabbed her by her neck and lift her up, his red eyes piercing through her. The girl didn't gasp for air, her limbs fell lifelessly, it seemed like his victim didn't have any hope left in her heart – the girl was waiting calmly for her end. She scowled at him. Her huge blue eyes were filled with tears, they reflected the moonlight beautifully, like two icebergs, the total opposite of Silas's red orbs.
"Зачем ты мучаешь меня? Если убивать, так убивай! Убей уже, изверг!'' Her hateful hissings grew into a growl, the girl looked proud and defiant.
He didn't understand a word she had said, yet he knew she was defying him, what made his blood boil, he wasn't controlling himself anymore, he forgot about Christ and his teachings… Silas threw the girl into the opposite wall and heard her hit the concrete with a thud, but when he walked up to the spot where he thought the sinful woman was, he didn't find a body. Stunned, the albino turned around and gasped for air, his eyes widening in fear – the barrell of his own Beretta was pressing against his bare chest. The teenage scowled and took a step forward, bringing her clothed body closer to his naked one…
The sound of a gunshot rattled in the peaceful quiet of a winter night…
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Bishop Aringarosa bit his lip, as he stood on the balcony, staring blankly at the city of Rome that lay peacefully beneath him. The streets were filled with tourists, romans, street actors… They looked so happy, so joyful, ignorant and self-absorbed… They had no idea that there was a possibility of a new holy war. It was imminent, yet these simple humans were smiling, laughing, buying insignificant things, when what really mattered was power. The Lord's and the Church's power over them… Aringarosa knew that he was committing a sin by thinking about power, craving for it, but he couldn't help himself… The man sighed, feeling for the first time the weight of the sins he has committed.
The sunset was breathtaking. Rome looked like an impressionist painting –saturated with colors, strokes of warm orange covered every single stone, concrete wall, every single red, green and white tent. The clouds dissolved in the sun's flames, the sky was clear and dark blue, contrasting with the reds and oranges that dominated in this "painting". It's cold colors reminded that it was still winter. Venus shone in the horizon, opposite to the setting sun, like a huge yellow diamond… The planet's glow was seducing, welcoming. It was perhaps the first time in many years that the Romans could appretiate it's beauty, the sky maiden rarely appeared, or perhaps the human beings couldn't see her because of the smog and the artificial lightning.
Aringarosa kept staring at the shining star, his bloodshot eyes didn't move, he didn't or perhaps couldn't blink. The bishop hadn't slept five nights in a row – the lack of information was alarming, the pain of failure was unbearable. He had to accept –the Opus Dei's most efficient "tool", the albino killer, Silas, was missing. The bishop lost contact with his dear "son" a week ago, in Moscow - the heart and the brain of the "resurrected" Russian Orthodox Church. The monk's only mission was to find and annihilate… For the sake of the Catholic Church, for the sake of good, of course…
"Find and annihilate" the bishop scowled, watching the huge city burn in blood red light, the sunrays like huge flames licked the Vatican's solemn columns … It was an amazing view.
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"Why are you torturing me? If you want to kill me, than do it! Kill me, monster!" – rus.
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Ohh! The first chapter of my first fic! Yay! And it's in English! Woah! And I'm Russian, so it's kind of difficult for me to write, I have to look up lots of words in a huge rusian-english dictionary... But it's fun and I get to practice for my TOEFL exam! Hehehe!
Anyway, I have some ideas for the mysterious girl/Silas strange "relationship"… You'll find about her in the next chapter… I really want for the reader to connect with this girl… Ekhe, if there will be a next chapter, of course! I'm quite shy and if people don't review or comment, I'll think I'm doing a lousy job and… well… that's so sad! I'll cry… PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE, PLEASE!