THE RIGHTEOUS
Plea for Help against Persecutors
"O let the evil of the wicked come to an end, but establish the righteous, you who test the minds and hearts, O righteous God. God is my shield, who saves the upright in heart. God is a righteous judge, and a God who has indignation every day."
—Psalm 7:9-11
—
DECEMBER 5TH 2039
3:43PM MST
KEYSTONE, COLORADO
The static grated on his nerves. It was, at least, nothing in comparison to the sound of the girl's screeching from before. Esteban did not enjoy the devices, but nothing he did was for enjoyment. It was out of necessity. He was God's hands. Righteous fury made man and sent to be His fists.
The purging of sinners from the Earth had always been Esteban's cross to bear.
He was delightfully pleased with the grey-cloaked sinner. The loan. When his followers had fidgeted for too long with the radio the loan had stepped forward to help. Esteban hadn't even been forced to make him.
The loan's shadow—the wretched, noisy girl—shook with every step she took. The girl stayed close by the loan, always within arm's reach. Always trying to stand between the cover of his cloak and Esteban's sight. The wobbly dimwit was taller than the Volturi sinner she cowered behind.
But she was blessedly quiet now. She had behaved during the trip there. She had drank when fed and had moved when commanded, stealing restless minutes of sleep every several hours. Unfortunately she was also filthy. She'd refused to shower or bathe in their last safe house. Her previous escape attempt had forced her chaperone to attend to her at every moment.
She did not want the loan in the bathroom with her, and she would not allow any of Esteban's congregation to help her either. The foul, pitiful abomination didn't realize that she did not possess a choice and that she had best comply soon or else.
He would let her remain dirty until he was forced to thrust her underneath a river himself. A baptism would not benefit her soul at this point. She was still going to Hell. But it would perhaps quiet her. Force her to behave more. Prove to her that he was not simply a man of God but a vessel for His righteous punishment.
"Father," Esteban turned his head as one of his followers, Antonio, approached. His head remained bowed until Esteban reached out and brushed his palms against his shoulders.
He focused on the boy's forehead. The holy mark given to all the older parishioners carved beautifully into him did not reflect like the rest of his skin as the remnants of the sun began to sink down behind the trees.
"Speak," Esteban commanded, not unkindly.
"My brothers and sisters have sent their blessings with me," Antonio bowed again, "I have ensured all devices have been connected and will sync remotely and on time." He lifted his head and stared back at Esteban. "The sinner is prepared and they eagerly await their return."
"The boy remains in position?"
"He has not lowered his guard since we departed."
"Rufina, Ignatius, and Francis?"
"They have received their last rites and wait to complete their duty."
"Go forth," Esteban lifted a hand and pressed his palm against Antonio's forehead, "back to your siblings and pray for our safe return." He gestured to the six bodies that stood behind him, only referring to five. "I will follow in time. Prepare them for communion."
Antonio's hungry eyes widened and he nodded. "Yes, Father." Then he turned and departed into the woods without another glance.
The demon under the hood started growling again at that moment. The lack of a hand and precarious position should have perhaps dissuaded it from such actions, but the demon remained stubborn. It hadn't growled since Esteban arrived, several minutes before, to ensure that all was going according to plan.
Esteban closed his eyes and lifted his head toward the darkening, overcast sky. He retrieved the beads from his robes; the pock-marked teeth old and worn down from both time and use. The only one that saw replacement regularly was the canine on the end. He thumbed the centerpiece before he began to pray, and shifted his grasp to the first tooth wrapped tight in wire. He pressed against the edge, opening his skin just barely. Enough for the refreshing scent of venom to fill the air.
"Let us pray, my children," he spoke out loud to the sky. He knew without needing to look that his three followers were obeying, lifting their heads toward the sky before dropping them obediently. The newborn that held their prisoner began to pray out loud along with him, causing a great smile to erupt on Esteban's mangled face.
The demon in their grasp writhed and growled louder, as if attempting to drown out their prayers, further proving its wicked nature. Eventually prayers came to an end, the growling ceased, and when Father Esteban opened his eyes he smiled up at the dark. Snow had begun to fall. God's creations were so beautiful.
Esteban turned back toward their prisoner and approached. He would have to depart soon, so that his followers could raze the immediate area and extinguish any sign of his presence before the ground became too wet—the valley within these dense mountains would be a ditch of smoldering ash by nightfall—but he would give it one more chance.
"Once more, child of God, I give you a choice." He lifted his hands before him and smiled again. The Volturi loan and the girl were watching him and he hoped they would behold him in all his glory as he displayed an unearned mercy. "I can baptize you here. Receive your sins. Pray with you. And you may be spared from the wrath of Satan. Your judgment may be fair with this."
The growling did not resume but a heavy, angry breathing could be heard clearly.
"Go to Hell," the demon spat.
Esteban sighed sadly and let his arms fall to his sides. He fixed the demon with a look and said a quick prayer beneath his breath. "Hell belongs to your breed." Then he turned, and walked away.
Esteban had considered mercy and now felt weak for doing so. He contemplated killing the demon now and saving them from the hours of agony they would endure while waiting for its fate. Either it would live tonight, proving more lies from the mouths of other sinners, and kick-starting Esteban's journey for retribution here in this place, or it would burn, proving the Volturi's messenger correct, and allowing Esteban's alternative plan, farther north, to commence.
He stood to the side and readied himself for another round of prayer. This test would be worth it soon.
A/N: Happy bonus Halloween treat. (This was supposed to be posted yesterday.) We'll be back at the Cullen homestead next chapter.