"I am the Messiah, the saint who walks upon the earth," Solomon declared, spreading his arms in a theatrical pose that mimicked Raphael's famous painting The Transfiguration of Jesus. Though he lacked the clouds beneath his feet or the company of Moses and Elijah at his sides, he still stood proudly before the drunken priest. It didn't matter. What mattered was the surge of divine energy radiating from him as he unlocked three of his stigmata and unlatched one of the silver clasps on his Saint's Cloth. His presence grew more awe-inspiring by the second, his rank seemingly ascending into the heavens. Solomon hoped the priest, who clearly had some ability—enough to track Ghost Rider—would recognize the significance of what stood before him.
"Whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple," Solomon said with a calm but commanding voice. "If you're as pious as you claim, Father, then now would be the time to kneel." He smiled faintly. "They say all of the magical world knows about the child born seventeen years ago—a real-life Harry Potter. If you managed to find Johnny Blaze, you must be connected to the magical underworld in some way. Surely, you've heard the stories."
"Sixteen years. Christmas hasn't arrived yet," Father Moreau corrected, glaring up at Solomon. "Sixteen years ago, in New York, a woman ascended to heaven. When we arrived, she was gone, and the child was gone. All that remained in the parking lot were gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Someone had welcomed that child with the honors due to a king, a priest, and a savior. We spoke to the priest who witnessed it. If you are that child, then you are the one we have sought all these years. It seems the sorcerer who stole the Saint's Cloth took you in, which is why you still lack your full power. Look at yourself! Can you turn water into wine? Heal leprosy? Calm storms? Walk on water?"
"With some effort, I probably could," Solomon said with a shrug, dismissing the divine aura that had enveloped him. He wouldn't maintain his stigmata for too long—after what happened when he overdid it at age eight, he had no intention of being burned bald again. "My father, who abandoned me and took my mother's life, did leave me with a few gifts. I've learned a lot from them. I'd say I'm well on my way to performing miracles. For now, though, I can definitely turn water into wine."
Moreau's face twisted with disgust. "Not with magic! With your own power! Look at you—you reek of magic's foul stench! Now, tell your servant to let me go and come with me. I'll help you, guide you onto the path you were meant to walk." He paused, noticing the piece of paper Solomon handed him. "And what's this? A printed sheet?"
With a wave from Solomon, Dana released the priest. Moreau stood up, rubbing his shoulder. "Your servant is unnaturally strong," he grumbled as he reluctantly took the paper. "What is this? A high school report card?"
"My theology grades," Solomon replied, his tone half-mocking. "I studied the 1611 King James Bible, which I hope proves my credentials. Forgive me for showing off in front of a Sunday school teacher like yourself, but I just went on break before dealing with this business." He waved the photo of the boy in front of Moreau. "Now, I'm looking for this boy—or rather, the creature that needs him."
"Excuse me, may I cut in?" Johnny Blaze interjected, rubbing his eyes as he approached. During Solomon's brief release of his stigmata, Johnny had seen a blinding white light that momentarily calmed the vengeful spirit inside him. For the first time in years, the endless rage smoldering within his soul had subsided. But now that the light was gone, the anger had slowly begun to creep back in.
"What do you want?" Johnny asked. "And how the hell do I get rid of that crazy spirit inside me?"
"I can help you," Moreau said before Solomon could respond. "I can rid you of the demon within you, but first, you have to help me find the boy." He snatched the photo from Solomon's hand, holding it up. "This boy is the child of the demon you made a deal with. Both you and that demon share a connection. Follow your instincts, and they'll lead you to him. We need to find the boy and save him. The demon's body has rotted, and it needs a new vessel to house its wicked soul."
"Well, that does align with my objective," Solomon said, stepping closer. "This wouldn't be the first time I've encountered an incarnation of Mephisto, and it certainly won't be the last. Hell, there's another son of Mephisto in New York. He's currently Kamar-Taj's economic and legal advisor, managing a portion of our assets."
"Wait—there are other children of the devil in this world?" Moreau asked, his voice a mixture of shock and dread.
"Mm-hmm. The world is full of things you wouldn't know about, Father. Especially if you've spent your life holed up in a mountain reading the Bible." Solomon couldn't resist a jab at the priest. "This won't be as simple as you think. If Mephisto's avatar transfers its soul into the child's body, it will become a trinity—Father, Son, and Spirit. Surely I don't need to explain the significance of that to you? Unless, of course, you sold your Bible for booze or defected to the Polish Brethren or some other obscure sect."
"And you still haven't answered my question," Solomon added, turning back to Johnny. "Is someone helping you stay hidden?"
"It's not hard to find him. He's been circling this area," Moreau said, cutting in. "Magic doesn't seem to work so well anymore, huh? Our organization has considerable technological resources and funding. Hacking a few cameras and using facial recognition is no big deal. Ever since he appeared on television, we've been tracking him. We're the true Roman Church, the overseers of the Inquisition, answering only to the rightful pope—not the corrupt old man elected by bribes. Think your sorcerer group can match that?"
Solomon rolled his eyes, unwilling to dignify the priest's grandstanding with a response.
"Oh, no, they can't, can they?" Moreau taunted, spinning in a little circle around Solomon. "You should come study with us. That's your destiny. When this is all over, you'll be following me."
"Yeah, right. A bunch of altar-boy enthusiasts," Solomon muttered, shoving the irritating priest aside. Turning to Dana, he said, "Contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and let Natasha Romanoff know. See if she can delay their task force."
"Yes, Master."
"I can't do it, Solomon," Natasha's voice crackled through the phone, her tone laced with frustration. "The task force has already deployed. The World Security Council wants an enhanced individual—don't ask why they insist on calling them that; it's their term. Bruce Banner is with Stark. Cap is under Fury's protection. Thor is an alien. That leaves Johnny Blaze—he's powerful, attached to Earth, and easy to manipulate. Perfect for their needs. And by the way, Fury himself is leading this mission. There's no way I can delay the Helicarrier."
"But I handed S.H.I.E.L.D. a list of demonic cultists and illegal arms dealers as targets, not Ghost Rider! Tell the World Security Council to go after Abomination instead. Isn't he still in cryostasis?" Solomon kicked at a piece of trash on the ground while Moreau stood nearby, smirking and taking another swig from his flask.
"Your artificial construct's script doesn't cut it, Solomon. Talking to her gets me nowhere. And Abomination is far too uncontrollable for the Council to trust."
Solomon sighed, glancing around. Kamar-Taj's agents still hadn't shown up. Could it be they'd found Mephisto's avatar already? He couldn't be sure and resolved to make a call later. "Ghost Rider is just as uncontrollable," he said. "If the Council insists on using him, then good luck to them. Trying to leash something inherently wild is peak S.H.I.E.L.D. logic."
"There's another option—reveal your identity. Fury predicted you'd say that."
"Then he has two options: death by sword or death by bullet."
"He also predicted you'd say that. Relax—he swears he hasn't revealed your identity."
"Good. Tell him this: I need Ghost Rider right now. Anyone who interferes with my work won't have a good ending."
"How'd it go? What's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s position?" Moreau asked, hopping down from a crate as Solomon ended the call. "Let me guess—they're useless?"
"And you?" Solomon shot back.
"I told you already: I represent the Church's stance on this matter. What do you need? Weapons? Technical support?"
"I just need to find Mephisto's avatar. Kamar-Taj will handle the rest."
"We'll take the boy to a monastery and purify him. That way, whatever plans the devil has, they'll fail. We both need the Rider, don't we? Why not cooperate?"
"Fine. You get the boy; I'll take the adult
."
"Deal. Oh, by the way, all that support I mentioned earlier? Yeah, none of that's happening."
"F*ck you!" Solomon snarled.
_________________________
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [[email protected]/Mutter]
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]