House of Acerbi (god's lions) Read online

  House of Acerbi

  ( God’s lions )

  John Lyman

  John Lyman

  House of Acerbi

  Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

  Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

  And there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation

  Book of Daniel 12:1

  The name of the star is wormwood.

  Revelation 8:11

  Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.

  William Shakespeare: Julius Caesar

  FACT

  After the attacks of September 11, 2001, Bible code researchers went back to their computers and discovered the details of the attack encoded in startling clarity in the Book of Genesis. Using the ancient Hebrew text that has been handed down for the past 3000 years, they found the words Twin Towers encoded next to Airplane in the same place, and running across these two words was a message that sent chills up their spines-It caused to fall, knocked down. The odds against these words appearing together, encoded in the same place, are at least 10,000 to 1. But there was more. In Israel, the mathematician who discovered the code found the words, the sin, the crime of Bin Laden on the same page of Genesis where the original text of the Bible stated, they saw the smoke rising above the land like the smoke of a furnace.

  PROLOGUE

  The South of France near Carcassonne

  Summer -1292

  On the day when everything in her world would change forever, little Catherine Acerbi was skipping behind her mother through a field of tall sunflowers. For most of the morning, Catherine and her mother, Marie Acerbi, had been drifting on the slow-moving current of the beautiful Aude River, talking and laughing against the sound of insects buzzing along its banks, until finally the sun’s arc across the sky announced that it was time for them to go.

  After walking through the field of flowers, they emerged at the base of a mountain trail and stopped to gaze up at a massive castle perched at the edge of a vertical cliff. The site of their fortress home had always been a source of fascination to the little girl, and in her imagination she had come to believe that a giant hand had somehow lowered the towering structure from the heavens to its lofty position just so she could watch the birds soar among the clouds outside her bedroom window.

  Under a brilliant sun that had chased the blueness from the sky and turned it white, the two had just begun their climb up the steep path that led to the castle above when a flock of birds suddenly burst from a nearby tree and screeched into the sky over their heads. Startled, the two stopped just as the ground began to shake, while in the distance, they could hear the sound of thunder as the faint tremor beneath their feet grew into a steady rumble. The movement and noise continued to intensify, until soon it seemed as if the very air around them was vibrating in a tactile assault of both motion and sound that was quickly spreading across the land.

  Looking to the north, Marie felt the hair rise on the back of her neck when she saw a cloud of red dust rising above the trees beyond the field, and it was coming closer.

  “Qu?est-ce-que, Mere …what is it, mother?”

  “Stay close to me, Cherie.”

  The shaking in the ground grew stronger.

  “Mere!”

  Marie held her daughter close and began to pray just as the undulating wall of red dust exploded from the tree line and rolled across the field. It was headed straight for them.

  “Run Catherine!”

  Marie began to run, but Catherine’s nine-year-old legs could barely keep up as her mother urged her on. “Come, Cherie, you must run. You are too big to carry now.”

  Glancing back over their shoulders, the two witnessed a sight that made them freeze in place. Fast-moving black shapes were weaving through the tall sunflowers, trampling them in their path as they moved across the field.

  Marie shivered in the heat. It was as if the devil himself was riding across the land.

  Catherine squeezed her mother’s hand. “Mere! Qu?est-ce-que?”

  “Horses, Cherie! Many horses!”

  Against the sound of trumpets calling the castle’s defenders to arms, the two began scrambling up the side of the hill just as an advance group of soldiers came running down the path. Behind them, riding a wild-eyed horse padded for battle, Catherine saw her father holding his sword high, his long dark hair curling down over the shoulders of his armor. With a slight jerk on the reins, Armand Acerbi brought the snorting animal to a stop. Looking up at her husband, a knot of fear grabbed at Marie’s stomach, for she saw that he was smiling the smile of a warrior on his way to battle.

  “Go quickly to the castle, my loves. Seal the doors. I will return!”

  Marie ran to him, but as she reached out to touch his hand, their eyes met with a look of understanding, for it was evident by the size of the force now charging through the field below that Armand Acerbi would never return.

  “May God be with you,” she said.

  “And also with you, dear wife.” With that, Acerbi galloped away as Marie brushed the long blonde hair from her face and wiped the tears from her eyes before leading her daughter the rest of the way up the winding path.

  At the top of the hill, Marie and Catherine raced under the grated portcullis into the castle’s inner courtyard, while down below, in a field of tall sunflowers, two armies well-versed in the art of medieval combat were now coming together in a violent clash of stabbing, merciless death. Pausing for a moment to gather her thoughts, Marie waited until the heavy iron grating had been lowered inside the main gate before motioning for Catherine to follow her up a narrow stone stairway.

  With their swords drawn, two of her husband’s best soldiers ran behind her, for she was the lady of the castle, and her husband, Armand Acerbi, was its lord. Before he had departed for battle, Acerbi had given these two soldiers orders to protect his wife and young daughter with their lives.

  “Come, Catherine … you must keep up!”

  “I’m coming!” Catherine cried. She looked up and saw her mother and the two soldiers disappear around a corner. Scrambling up the steps, Catherine caught sight of them running down a long corridor to her mother’s bedroom. Posting the guards outside, Marie motioned Catherine inside and closed the door. Marie crossed the room to a blackened fireplace and removed a stone block from the wall above the mantle. From a hollowed-out space, she removed a small wooden box-a box that young Catherine had never seen before. Placing the box on the table, Catherine’s mother slowly opened the lid and lifted three parchment scrolls from inside. She held them to her breast and closed her eyes for a brief moment before fixing Catherine with a look that caused the child to step back in fear.

  “Here, little one … take these. You must keep them safe. Hide them well and guard them always.”

  “Ce qui est errone, Mere? What’s wrong, mother?”

  “There are men outside the walls. Bad men. Your father has gone to fight them. The soldiers outside the door will take you to the tunnels beneath the castle. Hide these scrolls inside your tunic and go with them. Do what they say, Catherine. They will take you to my sister’s house in Carcassonne.”

  “I want to stay with you, Mere!”

  “I must wait for your father to return, Cherie.”

  With the sounds of battle outside growing louder, Marie Acerbi rushed to the open window and gasped. An army of mounted invaders dressed in black had just blown through her husband’s small band of men.

  It had been a senseless gesture trying to defend this pile of stone, Marie thought to herself. But deep down inside, she knew that her husband had been defending much
more than just stone. He had been defending his family and the honor of his people.

  In the valley below, Marie saw a bearded man on a white horse looking down at the bloodied body of her husband lying next to his men in the field of trampled sunflowers. The man on the horse then swiveled in his saddle and looked up at the castle, and for a brief second it seemed to Marie that their eyes had met in an icy embrace. From the edge of the window, she watched as he turned to a soldier beside him and pointed to the hill. With the sun reflecting off his blood-splattered armor, the soldier waved his sword in the air and began galloping toward the castle. Within minutes, the dark invaders were swarming up the hill from all directions, their hearts pounding and their veins still engorged from the adrenaline-fueled frenzy of battle.

  “You must go now, Catherine!”

  “No, Mere! Come with me.”

  “No, my sweet. My place is here. Your father and I will be together soon. Go now, and guard these scrolls with your life. You must pass them on to your children, and they must pass them on to theirs. Do you understand my little dove?”

  Tears welled up in young Catherine’s eyes. “Yes, Mere.”

  Marie held her daughter close before opening the door to her room and nodding to the two soldiers outside.

  “Watch over my daughter and remember my words well, for if my husband had not left you behind to guard his only child, your bodies would now be lying next to his in the field below. Your lives have been spared so that you would live to deliver his only child to my sister’s house in Carcassonne. You have been given a sacred trust, and if you fail in my husband’s final command to you, your very souls will be doomed to hell for all eternity!”

  The two soldiers exchanged frightened glances as they both dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

  Good, she thought, smiling to herself. Her speech to the two soldiers had obviously assured that they would pass through hell itself to deliver her daughter to safety. She bent down and took Catherine’s small face in her hands before kissing her gently on the forehead.

  “Goodbye, Cherie. I promise we will see each other again one day.”

  Marie stared into the eyes of her daughter before she stood and walked back into her room. Without looking back, she slowly closed the door.

  One of the soldiers grabbed Catherine in his arms and the two men began running down a winding stairway. Beyond the castle walls, they could hear the rattle of armor and the whinny of the horses as a huge battering ram beat rhythmically against the castle’s massive wooden doors.

  Rounding a corner, they continued down a hidden staircase that led to the tunnels below. Stopping only to light a torch, they ran as fast as they could through the labyrinth of underground passageways, until finally, they emerged a half mile away, below a cliff that rose sharply above the river.

  At the top of the cliff, Catherine spied a neighboring castle that appeared to be deserted. Apparently, its residents had witnessed the attack on the Acerbi castle and had wisely decided to flee in advance of the murderous army that was now sweeping across the land.

  Scouting their surroundings before moving on, the two soldiers pressed into the surrounding forest, taking turns holding young Catherine in their arms as they ran, each knowing that they were bringing favor upon themselves from God above in delivering this child from harm.

  As the forest greenery closed in behind them, Catherine peered over the shoulder of the running soldier and saw flames leaping from her castle home on the hilltop in the distance. She knew that her mother was still there, and that somehow, her spirit was now entwined in the rising dark smoke.

  Everything that little Catherine had loved was now gone. Both her parents and the castle she had lived in since the day she was born were now nothing but memories. Ashes to ashes-dust to dust. Fighting back the tears, she gazed up at the intact but abandoned castle on the cliff above. There, sitting on a large white horse, was the bearded man. Soon, he was joined by other men-the same men who had just attacked her castle and were now spreading out over the land in search of other castles to attack.

  Catherine reached up with one hand and pushed the scrolls further down into her tunic. Her mother had told her to keep them safe … and keep them safe she would.

  Looking back up at the man on the horse, she saw him looking out over the forest, as if somehow he knew that there was another Acerbi out there somewhere, another lamb for the slaughter.

  Keeping her eyes fixed on the man, little Catherine watched as he wheeled his horse around and disappeared back down the hill. A deep rage rose up within the child, and at that very moment she knew that her destiny had been set. As soon as she was older, she would seek out the man on the horse-and vengeance would be hers.

  CHAPTER 1

  Oosterbeek-The Netherlands

  Present Day

  Rene Acerbi’s dark blue limo swept through the main gate of the fashionable resort and continued along a tree-lined road until it reached the hotel’s new, Euro-futuristic-looking conference center. Stepping from the car, Acerbi looked up at the architectural work of art rising above him. He had paid for the building, but up until now he had only seen the architect’s flat, one-dimensional drawings. Sheathed in reflective silver metal, the giant, egg-shaped structure was much more impressive in real life.

  Two years before, Acerbi had walked into the architect’s office to look at the plans.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s an egg, Mr. Acerbi. It signifies new birth … the theme you requested.”

  Acerbi spent several minutes staring at the blueprints on the drafting table, pondering the shape of the building, until finally a tight smile crossed his lips. “I like it. You may proceed with construction.”

  Now, walking through the front door for the first time, he removed his coat and handed it to one of the security men walking by his side as they followed a long curving hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling glass along the outside wall. Continuing on, they passed through the blue-carpeted space until they came to a pair of stainless steel doors that led to the center’s large auditorium. Acerbi paused and looked back at the men in suits before taking a deep breath and entering alone.

  From the back of the auditorium, he could see a large gathering of well-dressed people, all talking and laughing as they sat grouped together in front of an empty stage. Acerbi waited. Seconds later, the unmistakable sound of door locks clicking into place stopped all conversation as every head turned to face the man who had just entered. It was as though some instinctual, primal force had just spread throughout the room-an invisible telepathic warning prompting those inside to freeze in place, like a herd of gazelles that had just caught the scent of a predator drifting on the wind over the African savannah.

  Acerbi looked directly ahead as he brushed the lapel on his designer suit and smoothed his thick, black hair straight back. With a deliberate stride, he focused his gaze on the stage ahead as he walked past the curious assembly and ascended a set of curved wooden stairs to a raised, semi-circular structure that jutted out into the immense space.

  Trying to gauge the mood of his audience, he turned his head slightly to observe the faces of those looking up at him from their seats below. Their faces had turned to stone. The fact that these emotionless faces belonged to some of the most influential people in the world was not lost on him as he reached the glass podium and scanned the area for anyone who had not been invited.

  Acerbi was no stranger to this group. In fact, as a scion of one of the wealthiest families in Europe, if not the world, he was an esteemed member of their gentrified cloister. It was an elite club in the tradition of a world that no longer existed-feudal lords and ladies shorn of their gilded robes, replaced instead with modern business attire. Ever since he could remember, they had all traveled in the same social circles. They had vacationed at the same summer resorts, gone to the same prep schools and colleges, joined the same exclusive clubs. They were the select few who ruled from the very pinnacle of a secret and priv
ileged society that had embraced them with all the tender loving care a mother feels for her young.

  Born of an Italian father and a French mother, his first name, Rene, meant reborn in French, while his Italian surname, Acerbi, meant heartless-a heartless man born for a heartless task. Very fitting for the job ahead, he thought to himself, for Rene Acerbi possessed a secret that he was not about to share, at least not yet.

  Looking down on his wealthy peers, Acerbi allowed himself a tight smile as his eyes narrowed in preparation for the speech he was about to deliver. This meeting had been his idea. For the past several weeks, he had dispatched couriers around the globe to deliver sealed invitations to this select group whose members were a veritable who’s who of the rich and powerful. The list included several influential CEO’s who headed billion-dollar corporations, a number of high-ranking government leaders, and a collection of private citizens descended from old money-men and women of considerable power who preferred to rule from the shadows.

  Because of their worldwide connections, the members of this exclusive club were sought out by other wealthy and influential people who had no idea who they were really dealing with when they needed a favor, legal or otherwise, that required a high level of discretion-a very high level. But every favor had its price, and as the favors mounted, so too did the influence of the Acerbi clan. Over time, they had become embedded among the power elite around the globe-secret players hidden in plain sight within the governments of practically every country on earth.

  Acerbi stood unblinking as he watched his audience and waited. A phone on the podium rang only once before he picked up the receiver and listened without comment before hanging up. Satisfied at last that they would not be interrupted, he stepped to the side and turned to face a large screen that was already lowering into position behind him. The lights began to dim just as a flickering beam from a concealed projector filled the screen with colorful moving images selected to deliver maximum visual impact to his audience.