Chapter One: Venice 1902

Their cloaks floating like an angel's wings behind them the two men, their faces hidden by white grotesque bauta masks, and capped by tricorn hats, rushed into the Piazza San Marco startling a few thousand pigeons up into the air. The facade of San Marcos Cathedral stood sharp against the black night. The two men stopped, hunching over to catch their breaths. The Piazza was silent. They stood up and strained their ears for any sound. Nothing.
"Do you think they'll follow us" said the taller bauta with a thick Russian accent.
"Of course, they'll always be following us. Why did you run anyhow? We're not suppose to leave. You know what we're suppose to do." smaller bauta replied with a Kentuckian twang.
"I never wanted to." The Russian said standing up straight.
"Well, neither did I, but it isn't up to us."
"Why did you run then?" The Russian sharply retorted.
"Because you did. It has to be the two of us remember, two, two witnesses. You're a monk you know these things." The small bauta clinched his fists, and turned squarely to face the other man. "Why did you mess these things up? After all we've been through."
Calmly the Russian turned, and whispered, "All the things that he has done to us."
"Yes," the Kentuckian replied, "Yes, he did those things to us, or he let those things happen to us, but what do you think will happen if we don't go through with it? I've lost four children, and numerous friends and lovers along the way. You! You've gone through twice of what I have! But at least you have never been in love, except with the debauchery of your orthodox sects theories, and even they wanted to brick you up in a wall."
"Allowing these things to happen when you are able to keep it from happening, that is just as bad as doing it. Yes, Yes, it is all true. The best way to save yourself from heartache is to kill the heart, but that is impossible."
"Well then, ain't the best way of ending it all is to die, Especially for the great plan we are so important to."
"What great plan? The great plan to end the world? The great plan to destroy human will?"
The small bauta slumped under the weight of these words. "We will live forever in bliss," he said forlornly.
"Forevever in his bliss, I do not believe that he cares for us too much. For if he did he wouldn't do this to us. You would be living in the tall trees of your home, and I would be living in mine instead of this decaying city."
The Russian kicked the ground and swore violently under his smooth emotionless mask.
"We have no choice. We must..." Suddenly the Kentuckian stood up straight, reacting to a small rumble off in the distance. He looked desparately to his partner.
"I will not!." The Russian screamed to the heavens, "I may die tonight but it will not be in his service, I had rather go to hell." The roar of thousands of voices was getting nearer by the moment. "Edgar," the Russian said, "I will not, you go die at their hands, I would rather die three times under my own will than once under his." He turned and looked up at the enormous white spires of the San Marco Cathedral, spit on the ground and began to walk away. The small bauta stood in place, hearing the voices growing louder. Abruptly, the Russian turned, "Follow me friend, although I will not die tonight, we can live tomorrow."
"Where will we go? We can't escape from him?"
"No, but we can get away from those who are sent to do his bidding."
"Gregory, if you ain't going to do this let's go to the church, they will provide us a safe haven."
"No, I support myself now, I no longer want or need any help from him." Quickly gregory whirled around, his long cloak dervishly spinning around him, scanning the buildings around the plaza.
"I was born with my powers, they should still work. I think we should wait. You should be able to seduce a crowd this size."
"This group wants blood not words, I cannot control a group that is not rational. He will ensure that they're beyond my control. No, we must hide."
Just then the bell tower struck midnight, drowning out the whistles and shouts of the oncoming mob. Gregory looked up. "The bell tower is the fortress we need, hurry now!"
They retreated to the darkened covered walk of the plaza as the mob erupted onto the far end, their torches flowing like lava out into the square. The great roar of the throng brought people from around Venice. The two streamed through the curious, the strained necks of ordinary Venetians trying to find out what was happening. Two guards stood watch at the towers entrance. Gregory flew upon them like a large bat, tearing the mask from his face, and loosening his hair, wild and long. His thick eyebrows burst into flame, and his face erupted into a blue aura. Edgar was always amazed when he saw his friend display his will, but now was not a time to gape or question the importance of his own powers. He reached the door to the great tower at the same time that Rasputin was returning with the keys from the unconscious guards. "My powers have not been affected, have yours?"
"I haven't tried yet, open the door then we'll talk."
Gregory thrusted the large iron key into the lock and turned violently. It did not open. "Calm down Gregory," Edgar took the key from his hand and deftly opened the door. Gregory rushed past him and up the stairs. Edgar looked out to see that the curious were slowing and breaking up the riot. No one had seen them. Edgar shut the door, locked it, and slid down agianst the thick oak door. He took the mask from his face and placed it next to him. Tears gathered in his eyes as he laced his fingers and brought them up to his forehead. Silently he began reciting the Lord's Prayer. "Lord, I cannot fulfill your promise, please forgive your servant." He finished his prayer and looked up hopefully to heaven. A sigh floated down from above him, "Edgar, why do you waste your time him, when all he wants to do is destroy you?" Edgar sobbed into his cloak. He heard the guard return to their post and eventually the crowd was dispersed by the police.

Edgar woke up to Gregory picking him up, he whispered, "It's almost morning, let us plan for our escape." Cayce shook off the monk's grip and looked directly into his eyes.
"Remember you have no power over me."
"Nor, you me." Rasputin sneered. "But, come, we are friends now, and we are both in the shadow of damnation."
They began walking up the steep stairs to the top. The morning was still cold, and the light was pale and ghostly outside the small rectangular windows that they passed regularilty.
"We could be dining in paradise right now, next to Elijah..."
"Yes, perhaps we would, but there are plenty of young girls here, that I can feel, touch, and taste. They are here! On earth, not something in a moldy book written by Jews and thieves, reflecting the thoughts of the great Jew and thief." Rasputin laughed underneath his long black beard.
Cayce turned around to look at his friend. "Perhaps we have cheated death, Gregory, but it's only for the moment. He will win, and the choice is whether you want to stand before him as a friend or an enemy. We had our chance," Cayce stopped on the stairs before him, "and while we are living here, on our world, we are going to have to go to his world. I do not despise him, nor do I love him, I just know who is going to win."
The monk smiled at him, his charisma was unbelievable, and for a moment Cayce felt like he would follow him to Hell itself, but it melted away the moment he opened his mouth. "But we can stand here! I will wrestle him until I die. Come, my friend, in the tower I found some wine left by the clockworkers. We must gather our strength before we try to escape from this rotting town."
Cayce stared at the enormous bells at the top of the tower while Gregory ran to retrieve the wine. The bells stood about a man and a half tall, with automatic clappers mounted to the side. "We must hurry into the clock room before they ring." Gregory said, slipping up beside Edgar unnoticed. Edgar jumped, the monk smiled at his surprise, took his arm and brought him into an adjoining room. The room was high, and filled with a cacophany of gears, chains, and movement. Gregory raised his arms, "See what we can do, do you see the wonder of humanity, we have created are own mechanical heart and here we are, the gods in the heart of humanity."
Edgar scowled. "This is nothing. Nothing but humanity abiding to his rules, although we show arrogance we cannot break his rules." Cayce walked up and admired the exacting work on the clock gears, the wheels within wheels, the spinning and the movement. "Still, Gregory, you are on to something, there is a relation to humanity here. Maybe it's the fact that the creator can change and alter things as he wants, that he can halt the movement and stop the universe entirely for this machine."
Gregory smiled and took a large draught of madiera wine. "But, my friend, we do not abide by this universes rules, we do not have to abide by the natural laws of this world." He brought the wine over to his friend and then led him over to two small stools in the corner. Edgar drank deeply of the fortified wine, while Rasputin examined the different kinds of tools left in a small toolbox in the corner. "You cannot teach a saw to hammer, you cannot teach a nail to file, each has it's purpose and so do we. That's what you think, eh, Cayce."
Edgar put down the bottle of wine for a moment and looked at him. "We are all in the hands of the creator, he does with us what he wills."
He handed the bottle to Rasputin, who, with a wink of his eye, finished off the bottle. "Eh, but what would he do with a hammer that refused to hammer, a nail that refused to drive?"
"He would cast them away" Edgar replied.