Cradle and all by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson [Patterson, James]
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Suspense, Women Sleuths, Thriller, Psychological, Action & Adventure, Crime & Thriller, Modern fiction, Adventure, Horror, Women private investigators, Pregnant women
ISBN: 9780747266983
Publisher: Headline Feature
Published: 2000-01-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 52

It has, Nicholas. You have that much figured out correctly. You're already lost! Your soul is forfeited!

The Voice screamed laughter inside Rosetti's head. It seemed like hundreds of voices, and the pain was unbearable, as if his skull were being ripped apart.

The old priest rose up suddenly, overturning a large oak chair with a resounding crash.

"They're here! You've brought them here!" His eyes widened with fear. "The legions are here! They're everywhere! I can see the unholy bastards! Now they're waiting to be turned loose."

Father Rosetti tried to go to his former mentor, but his arms and legs wouldn't move. They felt as if they were weighed down by stones.

What in God's name was wrong with him? Was he having a stroke? Was this another attack? Could he possibly survive again?

Nicholas watched in horror as the same force struck Stingley. The priest flailed his arms, trying to swat away an invisible presence. He stumbled toward the overflowing book cabinets.

He drew in a deep, raw breath. Then Monsignor Stingley's entire body sagged.

When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, as if he were having trouble getting out the words.

"At first there will be the loss of control," he said, swinging his head back and forth at an exaggerated speed. "You will find that you have no free choices left.

"No freedom of thought.

"No freedom of action.

"That's only the beginning!"

That's nothing! Rosetti heard the Voice inside his head. Get to the good parts.

"Next you will feel a physical decaying of your body, your mind, your soul, Nicholas. You will lose all hope. And that foul, rotting hopelessness, that abject feeling of pointlessness and futility, is the most defeating of all human experiences."

This is a smart man, Nicholas. For a priest. Listen to him!

"When it happens, when there is nothing for you except that abysmal black hopelessness, then you know you have crossed the threshold into Hell."

Monsignor Stingley stood at the window, his back arched horribly, the light breaking around him, blinding the Vatican priest. He passed his hand several times across his chest as if trying to relieve a constriction there, and then he spoke again.

"I should beseech God the Father to have infinite mercy on you. But that would mean deceiving you with false hope!"

Rosetti wanted to speak, to ask for the monsignor's blessing, when the old man suddenly cried out. Bernard Stingley's face was as white as bone. His lips, the edges of his ears, and his fingertips were a shocking shade of blue.

A deep rasping breath came from his mouth as he pressed his hand hard against his sternum. Frothy white mucus spilled from his mouth and nose.

He screamed, "There are legions of devils, fallen angels everywhere. Look beyond the two virgins, Father. Look beyond the virgins! The legions are right before your eyes."

Rosetti tried to go to him, but he couldn't rise from his chair.

He watched as the old man's skinny legs buckled and he fell to his knees. His eyes rolled upward and foam continued to boil over his lips and down the knob of his chin.

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