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.

"The brothers and I are concerned for you, Salvatore," Tom said.

Tom held him in a narrow gaze that hinted at where the conversation was headed. A shadow flickered on the wall behind Tom's head. Gallo's eyes shifted uncomfortably, but he disguised it with a sigh and nod, unsure he should share what he saw quite yet. If the demon sought their destruction, then there was no time to get to safety anyway. He tried to pay attention to their conversation, but was distracted by thinking of an escape for them. Gallo's hands shook with an odd mixture of dread and excitement. He tried to hide the tremors by rubbing his neck and clasping his hands tightly together. Something told him he had other things to fear, far more powerful than any shade or darkness.

"Do go on, brother," Gallo urged the older man when Tom ceased his speech. The cadence of words seemed to chase the bogeymen away.

"We're concerned that without Father Orius's guidance we're all in danger-you most of all, Salvatore," Tom said.

The brother's expression said he grasped more than Gallo wanted him to.

"Brothers," Gallo raised his hands, finding them remarkably steady. He offered a smile and continued, "Please let me assure you. Nothing further will happen here. With Bethiah gone, the demon will seek his fill of trouble elsewhere."

"What if he doesn't know she's gone?" Yegor, another of the brothers, asked.

Gallo looked to the friar without an answer. He shrugged. So they knew that was entirely possible, too.

"Or-what if he comes back and finds her gone? Will that not anger him?" Timor asked, a tremor in his voice giving away his fear.

"Father Orius was certain he would not. You must trust his judgment," Gallo replied.

"Could he be certain the spirit wouldn't wish revenge on those who defied him?" Tom challenged him.

The other men were unconvinced as well.

Gallo shivered. They faced so much more than upset spirits.

"You were sent here-to his care and protection. He would not endanger you, brothers. That was the reason for his leaving," Gallo countered their worries.

"He wasn't so certain-and we were sent here by those who wanted to do away with us, but found no suitable means than cloistering us in the middle of nowhere. We are heretics," Tom said.

Gallo pressed his fingertips together and tried to think of a better way to convince them that Orius was indeed certain. He sighed, quite defeated. He could neither lie to them nor pretend he didn't have the same suspicions. They were right to be concerned. If the demon returned for their friend, then he would find her gone and he would be most certainly angered. The display he had left in the church was just a taste of his wrath, an example of that which he was capable.

"It seems you have already discussed the matter among yourselves. So, what do you suggest we do?" Gallo asked.

"Yes, we have been discussing it," the elder brother said, a little ashamed.

Gallo smirked, but the amusement washed from his face as a pair of tall shadows loomed on the wall, seemingly staring in his direction. Gallo blinked to clear the apparitions, but they persisted. The brother continued, as he rubbed his face and blinked his eyes again. The shadows took on dimension, like glass statues.

"The brothers and I thought that, considering your closeness to the messenger-that you-that-that-tha-Salvatore?"

Tom's stammers broke through the deafening rush of blood in Gallo's ears. The priest blinked again and the forms disappeared. Shaking his head, Gallo gave his attention to the old friar. These were not demons. At least, they weren't what he suspected when thinking of beings from the dunes of Jahannam.

"I'm sorry, brother. What were you saying?"

The brother's brows pinched. He gazed over his nose at Gallo, perceiving at last that something was wrong. Gallo guarded his features with a small smile. He gave a laugh to dissipate the solemnity in the room. He could not explain himself, but attempted to do so by apologizing for being so distracted by recent events.

"The brothers and I believe you must go somewhere safe," Tom said.

Gallo scowled at this. What of the rest of them? Did they believe they could hold off a demon of this caliber alone? Gallo's features softened. One more priest wouldn't make the difference. He was just afraid of guilt should he escape their torment. In such a feeble state as they existed in, his presence offered them little more strength, even if his mind held the truth. The more he allowed his mind to wander, the clearer those ideas became, until a way free of the menace came to mind. It was in fact true. One more priest mattered when it was he. Bethiah blessed him with a gift before she left. She must have known what came, and the gift was her way of assuring her new friends remain unharmed. Orius knew that too, and that was why he made his understudy promise to evacuate in the eventuality they were overrun.

Gallo hung his head, drawing a deep breath to steady the stream filtering through his thoughts. He allowed the stream to fill him. The channels of his mind opened, operating at levels he only knew of in dreams. The vision she gave him wasn't just knowledge, but sight of the world beyond the comprehension of his simple human vessel. He was their protection.

The shadows along the wall, now forms pacing and standing behind the other priests, were of no threat to them. These were the guardians who had watched over them for their entire incarnation. Gallo lifted his chin, taking note of each one. Their materialization quickened his heart. Though no threat, they were startling beings not of his world, and that frightened him just the same as if the monster pursuing Bethiah had come to their circle.

"I won't hear of leaving you to face this alone. No. I'll not hear of it," Gallo said most insistently.

Gallo shook his head against their protests and got to his feet. He waved them away. He wouldn't leave. They were quite safe if they remained together. Orius's words of warning echoed in his mind with the tones of an unknown assurance that together they had strength the shade couldn't overcome.

"I have fear he'll return and take revenge on those who have sheltered her," Orius said. "If he comes, be sure you escape. Don't stand and fight. Get as far as you can, take the relic and your notes. Share what you have learned with a flock worthy of such gifts."

Gallo rubbed his forehead. They needed to stay together. In numbers they had protection. His eyes circled the room for the unseen, but they had gone again.

"Continue your prayers for our friend," Gallo said, smoothing his cassock.

The brothers watched him with concern wrinkling their faces.

"If you'll excuse me, I have my duties to attend. It's likely the police will return to ask more questions and the Sunday sermon won't write itself. Fetch me if someone does come. I'll see you at supper," Gallo said.

Gallo turned to leave, coming face to face with a translucent form in his path. He drew up short. Then, clearing his throat, he continued out of the room as if nothing were happening. Stalking the hall toward Orius's office, a voice whispered in his ear. Gallo trembled, losing his breath in the realization that the visions had become auditory as well. He spun around, but no one was there.

"Just the wind-I'm hearing the brothers complain through the walls," he thought, dismissing the sound.

Gallo continued forward. The whisper came again. It wasn't the wind and it wasn't the brothers. It was a woman.

"Stay together. We'll keep you safe," she said.

Hesitant to be alone, Gallo sought refuge from the unseen presence inside Orius's office. Perhaps the essence of the Father lingered and would hold at bay whatever invaded the rectory. Gallo pressed against the door, making sure it was secure. He lingered against the surface, listening to the hall beyond. Something in his head called him foolish. A lock wouldn't keep out the unseen no matter whose side they were on.

The priest backed away from the door.

"Is something wrong?" A voice murmured in his ear at the same moment his body came to an abrupt halt against an obstruction.

Gallo's breath left him. He faced the source, only to find a young woman of great height and dark hue standing there looking through him from a set of black eyes. Her hair was matted in a reddish substance and she wore the garments and weapons of an African warrior. Across her back rested a pair of sable wings.

"Dear God," the words tore from his throat.

"My name is Tajael," the woman said in the same voice he heard in the hall.

Gallo stared, trying to take her in all at once. His heart thrummed anxiously. She was measuring him, like his mother used to. But, this was no woman and not his mother. The word for her kind bounced about his head. Erela, a female duta like their messenger.

"Salvatore Gallo," he said.

"I know who you are. I've been keeping guard of you since you were born," Tajael replied, towering over him.

Gallo moved past her to sit on the couch before he fainted. His head ached and a buzz ran through his veins. Staring at the floor, he understood that he knew her too, had known her for a very long time. Tajael, she was his guardian and guide. They had known each other more than a long time. It was centuries. Lowering his head into his hands, he fought back the overwhelming memories and emotions. He inhaled deep and the images stopped. There was so much to ask, and each question led to others. He realized other times and spaces, his wife and children, and his fathers, the men who had adopted and raised him when his real parents had moved on to rise. The veil was lifted and he witnessed what was always barely hidden.

"Is this the price of knowing?" Gallo asked.

"Some say, yes. Some say, the sight is always there, that you chose to ignore it so you can continue with your plans and have the benefit of ignorance to excuse your deeds," Tajael replied.

The tall duta faced him. Her expression was somewhat eased, but no less serious. Gallo was stricken by her glorious presence. He stammered, trying to find the words to frame his thoughts.

"The sight?" he finally spilled.

"The sight, to see what is truly there," Tajael half explained.

Gallo nodded, understanding her meaning. Tajael rested her hand on the hilt of her sword and watched him. Gallo eyed the cruel blade, wondering why a messenger would need such an angry-looking weapon. He shook the question out of his mind. It would only distract him from what he needed to know. She used it to protect him from their beastly enemies. The priest drew out his rosary, then rested his arms on his knees and fiddled with the beads. She was patient, like Bethiah. He need not fear her.

"Have you always been here?" Gallo asked.

Tajael nodded.

"Do you know the one we sent away today?" Gallo asked.

Tajael nodded again.

"Do you know who that demon is?" Gallo asked.

Again, Tajael nodded.

Gallo drew a deep breath and also nodded. This was a start.

"Is there anything you can tell me that will help? Or do I need to keep guessing the right questions?" Gallo laughed.

Tajael knelt beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder. She was strong, but built like a willow, long and lithe. She would bow to changes but never break. He wished he had that might.

"Strength comes from confidence and confidence comes from certainty. We can keep you safe, but you must stay together. There is safety in your numbers. Each of the brothers has a guardian. The demon won't dare harm you if you remain together."

"He has eternity to wait for our loneliness," Gallo's voice trembled.

"With us, you're never alone," Tajael assured him.

The guardian's white teeth flashed.

"Doot-duta," Gallo's voice broke.

The word had been playing about his head all day. Bethiah mentioned it in their readings. Tajael was a duta, as were all like her, including Bethiah. They came from the real world, beyond the veil, beyond what they called the-khajala. The real world sounded an impossible classification in the face of his seemingly real surroundings. Gallo rubbed the rosary beads against his palm. They were worry stones to him now, holding no more power than a paperweight from a drugstore. He laughed to himself. His brain worked diligently to dismiss the new understanding for the comfort of the old teachings. Tears spilled from his eyes and he sniffed. He thought he had this under control.

"Human," Tajael said.

Gallo laughed and she smiled. Tajael gave his shoulder a rub and then sat on the couch beside him. Her great wing spread behind him and she placed her head on his shoulder. The touch was familiar, and he knew that without seeing her, she always sat like that when he needed her.

"I'll not let him harm you," Tajael promised.

"What of the other brothers?" Gallo asked after a moment.

Tajael didn't reply. The silence was profound. Gallo wept.

"I shouldn't cry. They have their guardians and they'll do their work, of this I can be certain, but the heaviness of my fear is like knowing what I fear will absolutely happen. I'm certain that even with the protection of duta, my brothers will be taken from this world by that horrible creature and the passing will be most cruel."

"That is not written," Tajael said.

"But I know it just the same," Gallo said.

Tajael hushed him like a mother would a child.

"Don't allow these thoughts to trouble you. A phone call is coming. You can't let them hear this in your voice," Tajael said.

"A phone call?" Gallo choked, doubtful.

Tajael stared back into his eyes.

The phone on the desk rang shrilly through the silence. Gallo hesitated and the phone rang twice more before he moved to answer it. A determined peace washed over him as he neared the desk. He regarded the telephone as if it were a brand. It rang again, ever more adamant.

"Father Gallo," he answered.

"Salvatore Gallo?" the voice on the other end came back.

It sounded like an older man. Gallo's brow furrowed.

"Yes, yes. This is Salvatore Gallo."

"Good. Good," the voice replied. "This is Archbishop Geitz. I'm calling to let you know that they arrived safely."

"Oh, well-thank you, Archbishop."

"Yes, listen. They're going to stay here a few days to see if we can restore your friend to her rightful place. I want you to go to Rome, Father Gallo. You'll need to prepare them for us, even if we're successful."

"To Rome?"

"You can't leave," Tajael said, sounding afraid.

The guardian's dark eyes were wide with surprise. He swallowed hard.

"Yes, Rome. Is that a problem, Father?" Geitz returned.

"I can't leave the brothers," Gallo explained.

Tajael towered behind him.

"You see-you see, the church was attacked, as I'm sure Father Orius told you. I'm the only one present who can offer services and the people will need it after losing such a treasure," Gallo replied, more nervous for the duta at his back than the archbishop demanding he go against her orders.

Father Gallo sat in the desk chair.

"Nonsense," Geitz dismissed his reasoning.

"It's not nonsense, Archbishop. Forgive me. They'll be saddened by this event deeply and will be missing Father Orius. I can offer them solace and constancy."

"We need you more. Rome must be prepared. You must go," Geitz insisted.

The Archbishop's tone forbade further argument, but a powerful entity stood before him demanding the opposite, and she was the one who held greater sway at the moment.

"Archbishop."

"No, Father Gallo. No arguing with me. I've arranged the plane ticket. A car will be by to take you to the airport in Budapest this evening. The driver will have your itinerary. Be ready. Brother Tom can handle the services. You won't be missed," Geitz pressed with a dark air.

"Yes, Archbishop."

Gallo's gaze flicked to Tajael and then to the desk, when he couldn't bear her disappointment. She crossed her arms. The warm gaze grew into a glare. Her fingers drummed along her arms. How could he tell the archbishop of his church that he couldn't leave because they were stronger in numbers against a demon if they were together and that his guardian had told him so? How could he just say there was one standing here telling him not to go? The man was probably ready to have Orius committed for his declaration, except that he had Bethiah to prove himself. Gallo wasn't about to produce a demon.

"Good, lad. The car'll be there just after supper. Your flight is at ten o'clock. Be sure to take all you'll need for an extended stay."

"Yes, Archbishop," Gallo said, avoiding Tajael's burning gaze.

"Oh, and, uh, Gallo," Geitz said guardedly.

"Yes, Archbishop?"

"Don't trust anyone," Geitz advised.

A click on the receiver said the Archbishop was gone.

"You can't leave," Tajael repeated.

"I've no choice," Gallo whispered, uneasy about the Archbishop's last words to him. "Much like yourself, I have orders and duty to follow."

Gallo hung up the phone and stared at it. Tajael waited, remaining astonishingly silent for one who strongly disagreed. He imagined she stood like that over him a great many times, the frustration of dealing with a creature who barely grasped his own reality and went about the day pretending to be oblivious to half the truth.

Gallo's shoulders shook with a good-natured laugh. Bethiah filled his head with so much, surely he had gone mad to cope. Lowering his head to his hand, his good nature slipped toward collapse. His body yearned for a rest that surely would not come until the next day. The flight to Rome would be a long one, most certainly be delayed, and his luggage would probably be lost for hours while he wandered the terminal, alone and starving.

"You must stay together," Tajael said, breaking up his thoughts.

"Well, that's not likely now, is it? Tie-tie-"

"Tah-jah-el," she pronounced slowly.

Gallo frowned at her.

"Perhaps this'll work out just the same," Tajael said, realizing by his tone that he was being ordered away from the other brothers.

"Very likely, as they have one another and I have you. I hope I do have your assurance that you can face this monster alone. I'm not the least concerned, Tajael, unless there's something you're not telling me."

Tajael drew back. Her black eyes peered down at him over her broad nose. Pride was strong in all duta. Though she was intimidating, he wanted to laugh at her reaction. The erela wouldn't harm a hair on his head, feeling for him as she would her own child. Gallo coughed to hide his amusement.

"Her name wasn't Bethiah," Tajael said.

Gallo blinked without a word in answer. He knew that too. He somehow knew what her real name was, but refused to allow the sound to even come to his thoughts. Even a stray thought might draw the shade to them. Perhaps, then, it was best he leave the brothers, but to seek shelter in the walls of the Holy See, envisioning the legions of demons he would find there, was just as terrible a fate. In that image, his mind put together a terrible idea that the archbishop could be plotting to imprison the messenger, for what other reason could he wish an underling to go to that place?

Tajael raised a brow.

"Nothing," Gallo assured her. After a moment, he continued, "I'm sure I'll find a friend among my brethren in Rome and the brothers will be safe with each other here."

"Let us hope so," Tajael said.

"Let us believe it. Now, I must go and tell the others. At least they'll be happy for this development. It's what they wanted," Gallo said getting to his feet.

The young priest hesitated in moving around the desk. He had more to tell his friends about than just an unexpected trip. Tajael and the presence of the others of her clan would impart a sense of calm reassurance, that whatever happened from that point forward, they would be all right. The brothers deserved to know what he glimpsed, to know that they too were surrounded by those who would protect them, whatever the future.

"I think it might help to let them know what else has passed," Gallo said.

Tajael frowned in disagreement. Despite this, Gallo moved on, refusing to change his reasoning in order to gain her approval.