Prodigal Son

"Oh, yes. Of course. Come in, sir. Please come in."

CHAPTER 88
        
        MOTH SHADOWS BEAT an ever-changing tattoo across the faces of Christ, Buddha, Amen-Ra.
        In the attic above Jonathan Harker's apartment, Carson, Michael, and Deucalion gathered at the wall-to-wall collage of gods, on which Harker must have spent scores of hours.
        "It seems to express such yearning," Carson said. "You can feel his anguish."
        "Don't be too moved by it," Deucalion advised. "He would embrace any philosophy that filled the void in him."
        He peeled away an image of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, then one of Buddha, revealing different forms and faces beneath, their nature at first mysterious.
        "God was only his most recent obsession," Deucalion explained.
        As other pictures were peeled away, Carson saw an underlying collage of Nazi images and symbols: swastikas, Hitler, goose-stepping soldiers.
        "Under all these faces of traditional gods is another god that failed him," Deucalion said. "A god of violent social change and racial purity. There are so many of those."
        Perhaps at last fully convinced of Deucalion's nature, Michael said, "How did you know there was a second layer?"
        "Not just a second," Deucalion said. "Also a third."
        When Hitler and his ilk were torn off the wall, there was revealed an even eerier collage: images of Satan, demons, satanic symbols.
        Deucalion said, "The unique despair of a creature without a soul eventually leads to desperation, and desperation fosters obsession. In Harker's case, this is only the surface of it."
        Peeling away a horned-and-fanged demonic face, Carson said, "You mean… more layers under this?"
        "The wall feels spongy, padded," Michael said.
        Deucalion nodded. "It's been papered over twenty times or more. You might find gods and goddesses again. When new hopes fail, old hopes return in the endless cycle of desperation."
        Instead, Carson found Sigmund Freud in the fourth layer. Then other pictures of equally solemn men.
        "Freud, Jung, Skinner, Watson," Deucalion said, identifying each newly revealed face. "Rorschach. Psychiatrists, psychologists. The most useless gods of all."

CHAPTER 89
        
        FATHER DUCHAINE RETREATED from the threshold as Victor stepped through the front door into the rectory foyer.
        The master of the New Race looked around with interest. "Cozy. Quite nice. A vow of poverty doesn't preclude certain comforts." He touched one finger to Father Duchaine's Roman collar. "Do you take your vows seriously, Patrick?"
        "Of course not, sir. How could I? I've never actually gone to the seminary. I've never taken vows. You brought me to life with a manufactured past."
        In what might have been a warning tone, Victor said, "That's worth remembering."
        With a sense of entitlement, Victor proceeded along the hall, deeper into the house, without invitation.
        Following his master into the parlor, the priest asked, "To what do I owe the honor of this visit, sir?"
        Surveying the room, Victor said, "The authorities haven't found Detective Harker yet. We're all at risk until I reacquire him."
        "Would you like me to mobilize our people to search for him?"
        "Do you really think that would do any good, Patrick? I'm not so sure."
        As Victor moved across the living room toward the door of the study, Father Duchaine said, "Can I get you coffee, sir? Brandy?"
        "Is that what I smell on your breath, Patrick? Brandy?"
        "No. No, sir. It's… it's vodka."
        "There's only one thing I want now, Patrick. A tour of your lovely home."
        Victor crossed to the study door, opened it.
        Holding his breath, Father Duchaine followed his maker across that threshold-and found that Harker had gone.
        Circling the room, Victor said, "I programmed you with a fine education in theology. Better than anything you could have gotten from any university or seminary."
        He paused to look at the bottle of wine and bottle of vodka that stood side by side on the coffee table. Only one glass stood on the table.
        With alarm, Father Duchaine noticed that a wet ring marked the table where Harker's glass had stood.
        Victor said, "With your fine education, Patrick, perhaps you can tell me-does any religion teach that God can be