passionate in his pursuit and abandoning his research would have been like abandoning his soul.
So he continued. He became fascinated with the fervor of Aleister Crowley, of his writings and devotion to the occult. He studied the words of Dr. Robert Woodman, a founding member of the Golden Dawn; Blanche Barton, a high priestess of the satanic church; and Madame Blavatksy, a noted mystic who claimed to speak to the dead.
But all the while he continued to embrace his faith, his Church, for it was his home, his family, the air that filled his lungs. His interest did not obviate his faith; rather, it enhanced it. For if there was evil, if darkness and the Devil existed, then surely there was a God and Christ was his savior.
Unlike his brethren of the cloth, Venue had seen evil firsthand on the streets: He had seen it in the hearts and minds of the underworld. He had seen it in his own heart … and he had heard the maddening voices in his head. And with himself as the perfect example, he believed that evil could be defeated, darkness could be buried and replaced with light. Voices could be silenced, madness could be cast away. But evil was an equal and opposing force, one that created balance, one that should never be ignored.
* * *
T HE MORNING SUN was beginning to wash through the stained-glass windows of the chapel, deep reds and purples painting the marble altar as Venue knelt in silent prayer, thankful for his life, for his deliverance.
It was the last prayer to God he would make.
Father Oswyn approached him from behind. He stopped and waited for Venue to turn.
“Father?” Oswyn said, without making eye contact. “Will you please come with me?”
Venue followed him through the church, through the rectory, into a large, intimidating conference room that smelled of incense and leather. Six priests sat around the table. Two chairs sat empty on opposing ends. Venue and Oswyn took their seats in opposition. None of the other six would make eye contact as Venue sat in bewilderment.
Without a word, Oswyn began laying books upon the table—books on witchcraft and the occult, devil worship and druidism.
“
Troubling
is a word that comes to mind, Father,” Oswyn began. “So much you hide from us, so much you hide in your heart.”
Venue looked about the table, momentarily staring at each of the seven priests who faced him, his eyes finally coming to rest on Oswyn. “So you go through my personal effects and condemn me for my reading?”
“It is what we have found in your heart that troubles us.”
“We cannot shut our eyes to the evil that is in this world, surely you see that,” Venue said. “Evil is not defeated through silence. Knowledge is power.”
“But we do not seek power.” Oswyn paused, the moment hanging in the air. “And that is troubling.”
“You condemn me for reading!” Venue exploded. “You all sit here in judgment of me for looking behind the curtain; you are blind to the evil, the darkness in this world.”
“We are not blind, Venue.” Oswyn pulled out a folder and laid it upon the table. “Father Nolan made some inquiries.”
Venue stared at the file; he did not need for it to be opened to know what it contained.
“To say what he found is troubling would be a great understatement.”
“The police are here,” the eldest priest mumbled, though he did not make eye contact.
“Would you like us to hear your confession?” Nolan’s voice quivered in fear.
Venue turned to him, unsure if he should be amused or angered.
“You should know that your crimes, in concert with your outside interests, have brought us to this point. Your actions have left us no choice. Not only are you to be removed from the priesthood, but for the acts you have committed, for the deceptions you have promulgated, for the evil that is in your heart that we fear you shall spread in the Church’s name … you shall be excommunicated from the Church.”
Oswyn’s words were like a lightning bolt
So he continued. He became fascinated with the fervor of Aleister Crowley, of his writings and devotion to the occult. He studied the words of Dr. Robert Woodman, a founding member of the Golden Dawn; Blanche Barton, a high priestess of the satanic church; and Madame Blavatksy, a noted mystic who claimed to speak to the dead.
But all the while he continued to embrace his faith, his Church, for it was his home, his family, the air that filled his lungs. His interest did not obviate his faith; rather, it enhanced it. For if there was evil, if darkness and the Devil existed, then surely there was a God and Christ was his savior.
Unlike his brethren of the cloth, Venue had seen evil firsthand on the streets: He had seen it in the hearts and minds of the underworld. He had seen it in his own heart … and he had heard the maddening voices in his head. And with himself as the perfect example, he believed that evil could be defeated, darkness could be buried and replaced with light. Voices could be silenced, madness could be cast away. But evil was an equal and opposing force, one that created balance, one that should never be ignored.
* * *
T HE MORNING SUN was beginning to wash through the stained-glass windows of the chapel, deep reds and purples painting the marble altar as Venue knelt in silent prayer, thankful for his life, for his deliverance.
It was the last prayer to God he would make.
Father Oswyn approached him from behind. He stopped and waited for Venue to turn.
“Father?” Oswyn said, without making eye contact. “Will you please come with me?”
Venue followed him through the church, through the rectory, into a large, intimidating conference room that smelled of incense and leather. Six priests sat around the table. Two chairs sat empty on opposing ends. Venue and Oswyn took their seats in opposition. None of the other six would make eye contact as Venue sat in bewilderment.
Without a word, Oswyn began laying books upon the table—books on witchcraft and the occult, devil worship and druidism.
“
Troubling
is a word that comes to mind, Father,” Oswyn began. “So much you hide from us, so much you hide in your heart.”
Venue looked about the table, momentarily staring at each of the seven priests who faced him, his eyes finally coming to rest on Oswyn. “So you go through my personal effects and condemn me for my reading?”
“It is what we have found in your heart that troubles us.”
“We cannot shut our eyes to the evil that is in this world, surely you see that,” Venue said. “Evil is not defeated through silence. Knowledge is power.”
“But we do not seek power.” Oswyn paused, the moment hanging in the air. “And that is troubling.”
“You condemn me for reading!” Venue exploded. “You all sit here in judgment of me for looking behind the curtain; you are blind to the evil, the darkness in this world.”
“We are not blind, Venue.” Oswyn pulled out a folder and laid it upon the table. “Father Nolan made some inquiries.”
Venue stared at the file; he did not need for it to be opened to know what it contained.
“To say what he found is troubling would be a great understatement.”
“The police are here,” the eldest priest mumbled, though he did not make eye contact.
“Would you like us to hear your confession?” Nolan’s voice quivered in fear.
Venue turned to him, unsure if he should be amused or angered.
“You should know that your crimes, in concert with your outside interests, have brought us to this point. Your actions have left us no choice. Not only are you to be removed from the priesthood, but for the acts you have committed, for the deceptions you have promulgated, for the evil that is in your heart that we fear you shall spread in the Church’s name … you shall be excommunicated from the Church.”
Oswyn’s words were like a lightning bolt
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