Reginald Cook - The Hammer of God (The Veil Series)

Hammer

of

God

REGINALD COOK

THUNDER

HOUSE

PRESS

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware thatthis book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed tothe publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has receivedpayment for this stripped book.

This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters, with the exceptions of a few well-known historical figures, are product of the authors imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Where real-life historical figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict the actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work.

The Hammer of God

A ThunderHouse Press Book

PRINTING HISTORY

ThunderHouse Press First Edition/2011

All rights reserved. Copyright 2011 by Regional Cook This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

For information address:

ThunderHouse Press, a division of ThunderHouse Entertainment, LLC

8306 Wilshire Blvd. #375 Beverly Hills, California 90211

(424)-209-9757

E-Mail: reggiecook@yahoo.com

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book BLOOD by Reginald Cook. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect content of the forthcoming edition.

Printed in the United States of America

THIS NOVEL INCLUDES PREVIEW

CHAPTERS OF

REGINALD COOKS NEXT GREAT SUSPENSE

THRILLER IN THE VEIL SERIES

Blood

OIL, MONEY, & POWER

THP

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to my editor, Kathleen Jackson, for her insight and skill. Thanks to my good friends Ronald Jones and Michael Agee for their much valued encouragement and support. As always, the fruit of my loins, Nicholas and Briana, are a constant inspiration to me. I love and appreciate you both more each day.

And finally, thanks to my muse and love of my life, Stacy Arnell. Our mutual love of the arts, especially good storytelling, is a unique and special joy in my life. Your confidence and unwavering support of me and my work is a blessing I am thankful for, and will cherish all my days.

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.

2 Corinthians 4:8-9

We are hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.

1 Peter 5:8

Prologue

Pope Pius IX, as was routine when in Rome and not traveling, knelt in front of his chamber window at sunrise for prayer. Seven years removed from the start of his Papacy in 1846, and the anxieties of the church had not waned an inch. In fact, as time edged forward, the mire under his feet deepened.

Riot led to riot, and the Pope was pronounced a traitor to his country.

Palma, a papal prelate, was shot to death while standing near an open window. On the steps of the Cancelleria, where hed gone to open parliament, his Prime Minister, Rossi, was stabbed to death, and Pius had been pressured to promise a democratic ministry. Then, draped in a homemade disguise, with the assistance of the Bavarian Ambassador, Count Spaur, and the French Ambassador, Duc dHarcourt, Pope Pius escaped from the Quirinal, where his enemies had surrounded him.

Pope Pius returned to Italy, April 1850, after the French restored order to Rome. But cancerous opportunists, who struck down his authority, had terrorized the citizens and committed untold atrocities, all in the name of democracy.

However, nothing vexed the Popes soul like the vision hed been wrestling with for the past two weeks. Every morning since it started, he rose before dawn and entreated the Lord with the prayers of an earnest man, begging for the nightmare to pass. This morning, he closed his eyes and moved his lips with wisps, and the heaviness came faster than usual.

Sweat flooded his face, burning his eyes, soaking the neckline of his white vestment.

Asmodeus and his band swept into the Popes chamber unnoticed and encircled the man on his knees deep in prayer, sneering and snorting their delight. Asmodeus towered over the Pontiff. The eleven others formed a semicircle around them both.

Pope Pius continued to pray, squeezing his eyes tight, his murmurs unintelligible. Asmodeus knelt down and whispered in his ear. Tears bled from under Piuss eyelids, and he clenched his teeth and sobbed, Why, Lord, why?

Asmodeus and the others watched the Pope pray harder, this time stretching his hands toward heaven, begging for relief, and they laughed.

The windows of the chamber swung open and a brisk wind swept through. Michael and eleven of Gods strongest angels breezed into Pope Piuss chamber, pushing back Asmodeus and his band of demons.

Michael recognized each fallen angelic being and took note.

Asmodeus, Chief of Demons, Balan, Prince of Hell, Buer, Commander of Fifty Legions of Devils, Hecate, Queen of Witches, Jezabeth, Demoness of Falsehoods, Naamah, Demoness of Seduction, Philotanus, Demon of Pederasty and Sodomy, Python, Prince of Lying Spirits, Ronwe, Demon Commanding Nineteen Legions of Devils, Semiazas, Chief of Fallen Angeles, Sonneillon, Demoness of Hate, and Vetis, a devil who specialized in the corruption and tempting of the holy.

Pope Pius relaxed a bit, the crying abated, but the prayerful murmurs increased.

What business have you here? asked Asmodeus, his voice deep, commanding.

Our task is as always, answered Michael. One you know well.

We have permission to be here, bellowed Asmodeus. Granted by our Father.

For what purpose?

A hideous, scaly smile spread across the face of Asmodeus. He reached inside his smoldering cloak and pulled out a thick, metallic sword. The others in his band followed suit.

Michael looked around at those with him. Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Anael, Raquel, Raziel, the Archangels. Malakim and Dunamis, both associated with heroes, known to instill courage, also known as The Shining Ones. Camael, who wrestled with Jacob. Remiel and Tarshishim, who guide the soul.

Michael turned back toward Asmodeus, placed a hand inside his glowing robe, and pulled out a large mallet-like hammer, with a long, worn, sturdy oak handle. The other angels did the same.

Asmodeus took a deep breath and blew a smoldering orange flame from his nostrils. The fire wrapped itself around the swords of each of those who followed the demon.

Pope Pius cried out, No Lord! No! Do not abandon thy servant! A light, brighter than the essence of the sun, flashed through the room and when it faded, Asmodeus and the demons lay prostrate on the floor. Michael and the Lords host stood strong, their hammers glowing with the Holy Spirit.

Asmodeus and the others scrambled to their feet, violently waving their swords and slashing the air, spewing sulfuric fumes. They floated above the room, flames pouring from their nostrils like angry demonic bulls.

Il Martello de Dio, whispered Asmodeus.

Michael and the holy hosts rose to the ceiling, each hammer at the ready. Both groups charged forward, clashing into an explosion of fiery thunder. Outside the Popes window, the sky turned black, and lighting clawed the sky. A hard, dense rain pounded everything in sight, and the window shutters slammed against the building until they were torn from their hinges and sucked up into the sky.

Pope Pius jumped to his feet and summoned his aide. He sat behind his desk, dictated a decree, and made a list of twelve priests to be called to him at once. When the aide left the room the Pope fell back to his knees.