Read Online Nightbringer by James Byron Huggins - Free Book Online

room.”
    With a faint frown Michael gazed at the spindly monk. “I’ll be in my room until morning.”
    As they entered their rooms, the storm shook the abbey to its foundation.
    The ubiquitous Melanchthon awaited Stephen when he closed the door to his private quarters. The father abbot did not even blink at the intrusion. Instead he carefully folded his mantle and laid it upon a wooden chair and spoke without looking. “I hope this isn’t going to be the same conversation we had earlier.”
    “ No.” Melanchthon frowned. “It will be much worse.”
    Father Stephen exhaled tiredly, then sat in a scarlet-cushioned mahogany chair and rested his hands on the arms. He bent his head, exhaled again. “Very well, brother – begin.”
    “ I sense something.” Melanchthon’s aspect and tone were obviously and sincerely concerned, but there was no judgment. “These people, and the brothers as well, must leave quickly.”
    Although composed, Father Stephen ’s face betrayed that these vague forebodings of doom were beginning to grate pink against his skin. In a few minutes they would begin drawing blood.
    “ Brother,” he said patiently, “why are you so compelled to warn me about this danger you perpetually sense? In all humility, your great mind is not beyond my comprehension. And I do not also sense this … this thing you fear.”
    “ If I am the only man who smells smoke I will not hesitate to tell others the house is on fire.” Melanchthon seemed equally as weary. “Would you prefer I keep these forebodings to myself when innocent lives are in danger?”
    “ The innocent lives of these tourists?”
    “ There are many here who are innocent and must leave, and some here who must never leave because of their guilt.” Melanchthon came closer. “We both know the original purpose of this place. It was meant as a prison for priests whose sins against God and man were so great that the only safe harbor for them was within these mountains, all but inaccessible to the world.
    “ In times of old, this was known as L’Sheol, and it is still a prison—only in a different form. Now it is where the Church exiles those who speak too boldly against the Evil One.” He smiled grimly. “How terrible it would be for priests to proclaim that they see the devil at work in the lives of men.”
    With a sigh Stephen replied, “In this day and age, brother, yes, it would be an unnecessary occasion for alarm and I am far too practical a man to respond to your visions and dreams. But, then, you have always been far more mystically inclined than I.”
    Melanchthon was the purest image of irony. His smile was sincere and utterly without humor. “That is true, but it does not change the truth. Nor can I remain silent any longer.”
    Leaning forward, Father Stephen spoke more pointedly. “Brother, do you remember the last time you came to me claiming to have seen this ghost and I acquiesced to your demands to search the abbey? Yes, do you remember how we diligently searched the entire premises only to find every door and window locked from the inside?” He paused and clearly couched his words. “What you saw or think you saw was not here, brother. And I am tempted to say that it never was.”
    Melanchthon was unexpressive.
    “Please,” Stephen appealed, “if you hate it here so much, then why don’t you ask Monsignor DeMarco to re-station you? He has the authority to do so. And this is not the only abbey set aside for safekeeping.”
    “ My place is here,” Melanchthon muttered, and his mouth forged itself in the darkest frown. “My first … My last.”
    There was doom in the tone, and Stephen sighed. “All right. Tell me exactly what you think this danger is. And if you convince me—evidence or no evidence—I give you my word that I will achieve some means of evacuating the monastery.”
    “ Why have you not offered such a thing before?”
    “ Because there has never been any evidence to substantiate your claims.