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into the horrific countenance.
    "You ... you cannot speak the name," he whispered.
    "The name?" the giant rumbled. "Yes. In this form, Father, I can indeed speak the name. Yes, I can speak the name of ... of ... of Dominus !" His teeth gritted before he smiled again, more an illusion than the truth. "For in this form I am more human than not – as you can see. But the verging of life and death has always been closer than any of you knew." He laughed at the priest's terrified gaze. "Just like a miracle."
    "What ... what do you want?"
    "I want a document sealed in the Secret Archives hidden in the sub-basement, beneath the cellar. A document entombed in the vault with the seal of Archbishop Markus in 1936. I want the document for the Castle of Calistro ... which belongs to me."
    "B-but why do you need it?" The priest was shaking so violently he almost fell from the steps. "It is sealed! It is cursed! If you are really him then you would not need it!"
    "Ah," the giant answered, "but I am not what I was, Father. Being human ... has its limitations. Even now, my mind, or what survived the merging, is childlike and diluted from my truly glorious state, though I continue to grow moment by moment. I remember little of what I knew, so I need time to acclimate myself to this form. And, to make it even worse, I have discovered that I cannot contact my flock. I am severed from my world." He laughed. "Yes, Father, my mind is broken and ragged, still healing from the merging. Some things I remember in full, but they are not the things I need. Though I can still speak to you of so much you do not know. So much that, when I leave you, will never bless you with sleep."
    The priest paled as the giant smiled.
    "I can tell you of my poor, pathetic Pazuzzu's long flight through that hateful void to light upon the gate of Babylon, inspiring the fools to destroy the Hebrews," he added casually. "I can tell you how my servant, Belial, soared on wings beneath the moon as he laughed at the funeral pyres of Tel-Engedi where those hundreds of thousands were burned alive, father and son, mother and daughter holding each other in their arms as they delivered their lives to a cloud that took the sun from the earth for a year. Yes ... and what a lovely aroma it was." He laughed. "I can describe those last, singing screams of children thrown into the burning belly of Molech in the dying days of Carthage before that effete snob, Scipio, brought down one of the walls for the glory of expendable Rome. And I can tell you more than that. I can tell you of those fools, Peter, who are not what you think, even though—"
    "But the Nazarene defeated you!" the priest shouted.
    Silence.
    Long ...
    Longer.
    "So and so," the giant finally mused, "the Nazarene."
    A rage beyond hell glazed his eyes. His voice was a voice of caverns consuming the dead. "Yes, unconquerable to the very end. And wiser than a serpent. Deceiving ... deceiving even me ... with the fate of the universe in the balance. A singularly horrific experience, I assure you. But then the Nazarene and I are fated to war again, Father, so let us speak of more pleasant things." He laughed, diabolical music. "Let me tell you of those glorious celebrations orchestrated by my faithful children Lilith, Incubus, and Succubus. Let me tell you of the exquisite carnal pleasures they inspired upon Sodom and Egypt and Askalon – unimaginable pleasures that put the Romans to shame. Pleasures that shamed even the sheer animal ecstasies of the slave baracoons of my servile Thoth-Amon who made the prideful mistake of slaying Saul only to be eaten ... by worms. Yes, and there is so much more. More than you mortals could ever—"
    A grimace.
    With a bestial growl of pain the giant bowed his head, appearing to fight a ravaging injury. His eyes were closed tight as he slowly reached out, grasping the priest by the arm as if he could crush the bones with effortless strength. Then he lifted him from the ground.
    "Come, Father,"