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little boy. You always put yourself in harm’s way and, somehow, you always came through. So it looks as if you were kind of…«
    He hesitated.
    »Chosen,« Peter’s mother added, whispering.
    Her husband nodded. »And this means that you probably don’t have a choice. You are an intelligent man, you have military training, and you still have a score to settle with these Light-Bearers. Whoever this Seth may be, kick his ass. Bring this matter to an end, pull the plug, clean house.«
    Peter looked at his father. He had never heard him speak that way. His father, the peace activist. His father, the constant complainer, the man who had often seemed so weak to him in his wine-red sweater with his pamphlets and leaflets and petitions.
    »Unfortunately, there is more,« Peter said with a gloomy expression on his face. »You are no longer safe here. If the Light-Bearers cannot find me, they will attack you. You have to get out of here. As soon as possible.«
    It took a moment before his father understood. »What is going on in your mind?« he started ranting. »This is our home! The hell we’ll let some sect chase us out of here.«
    Peter moaned. »I am sorry,« he said. »But your lives are in danger.«
    »Where are we supposed to go?« his mother asked in a soft voice.
    Peter kept silent. He did not know the answer either.
    »As far away as possible,« Maria said. »That would be the best. Perhaps you have a place in your mind that you always wanted to visit. Everything will be taken care of.«
    »I will not leave here,« Peter’s father said brusquely. »Under no circumstances!«
    Maria turned to Peter. »Could you leave us alone for a minute?«
    »Why?
    »Please, Peter!«
    With a sigh, Peter rose from his chair. One hour later, when Maria called him back into the living room, his parents were sitting next to each other on the sofa, pale but composed. And they were holding hands. An unusual scene.
    »New Zealand,« Peter’s father said in a rough voice. »A little farm, some sheep, nothing extravagant.«
    »New Zealand?« Peter was flabbergasted. »Sheep? You?«
    »Actually, it has always been our dream,« Peter’s mother said. »Do you remember that we took that trip to New Zealand four years ago? We loved it there.« She turned to Maria. »Are you sure this is possible?«
    »I think so,« Maria replied.
    Peter could not get rid of the lump in his throat.
    »What did you tell them?« he asked Maria.
    »The truth. It will only be temporary. Until the danger is over.«
    »And the house and everything?«
    »Don’t worry about that. Once it’s all over, they will be able to return.«
    Peter was shaken. »I never wanted this to happen,« he said. »Just because I had a fucking vision and because some maniacs are fighting a battle against the Church… it is not your fault!«
    »Neither is it yours,« his mother said and wrapped him in her arms. »When it’s all over, you will come and visit us in New Zealand. And perhaps you will bring Maria along with you.«
    Peter’s parents showed Maria to the small guest room under the roof and then they excused themselves for the night. Peter did what he had always done and moved into the small summer house that he had claimed for himself when he was sixteen years old. Finally alone, his self-control tore apart like thin paper.
    Edward Kelly. John Dee. Aleister Crowley. Madame Blavatsky. Malachy. Bernard of Clairvaux. Thoth. Hermes Trismegistus. Manetho. Nicolas Flamel. Seth. Nikolas. The Bearers of the Light. Hoathahe Saitan!
    The names of evil. The names of death. A mountain of names, dirt, filth and death was bearing down on his shoulders, taking his breath away. Peter tensed up and started crying. He curled up on his small bed and whimpered at his despair, at all these names, at the memories, and at his feeling of guilt. He cursed this God, who was playing such a dark and eerie game with him, who was sending him visions and death, and who had taken his brother away from him only