Anthony Horowitz - Necropolis

“The discovery of the diary, along with all the other fragments, changed my life,” the monk continued. “I began to think about the reasons why I had come to the monastery in the first place. Did I really think that religion – prayer and fasting – would help me change the world? Or was I just using religion to hide from it? Suddenly I knew what had brought me here. Hatred. I hated the world. I hated mankind. And praying to God to save us was ridiculous. God isn’t interested! If He was, don’t you think He’d have done something centuries ago?

“My whole life had been devoted to an illusion. All those prayers, the same words repeated again and again. Did they really make any sense? Of course not! The cries for mercy that would never come. Kneeling and making signs, singing hymns while, outside in the street, people were killing each other and trying to make as much money as they could to spend on themselves and to hell with everyone else. Do you never read the papers? What do you see in them except for murder and lust and greed, all day, every day? Do you not see the nature of the world in which you live?

“There is no God, Scarlett. I know that now. But there are the Old Ones. They are our natural masters. They deserve to rule the world because the world is evil and so are they.”

He paused for breath. Scarlett looked at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. She had already decided that this wasn’t about God or about religion. It was about a man who had nothing inside him. The years had hollowed out Father Gregory until there was nothing left.

“I will finish my story and then you must be taken back to your cell,” he said. “You will not be staying with us very long, Scarlett. You have a long journey to make. You will not return.”

Scarlett said nothing. She knew that he was trying to frighten her. She also knew that he was succeeding. A long journey… where? And how would they take her there? Would they force her through another door?

Father Gregory closed his eyes for a few seconds, then continued.

“When I came here, there were twenty-four brothers at the Monastery of the Cry for Mercy,” he explained. “Some of them, I knew, felt the same as me. They were disillusioned. Their life was hard. There were no rewards. The local people, the ones they were helping, weren’t even grateful. Gradually, I began to sound them out. I shared with them the knowledge I had discovered. How many of them would abandon their religion and turn instead to the Old Ones? In the end, there were seven of us. Seven out of twenty-four. Ready to begin a new adventure.

“We could of course have left. But I already knew that was out of the question. We were here for a reason, and that reason was the door. It had been here long before the monastery existed. Indeed, why was the monastery built in this place at all? It was because the architects knew that the door was in some way magical even if they had forgotten what its true purpose was. Do you see, child? The monastery was built around the door just as you will find holy places connected to the other doors all over the world: churches, temples, burial sites, caves.

“The seven of us agreed that we would stay here and serve the Old Ones. We would guard the door and should a child ever pass through it, we would know that we had found one of the Gatekeepers and we would seize hold of them just as we have taken hold of you…”

“What happened to Father Janek and the other monks?” Scarlett asked, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“I killed Father Janek,” the monk replied. “I crept into his room while he slept and cut his throat. Then we continued around the monastery and did the same to all the others. Seventeen men died that night and in the morning the corridors were awash with blood. But don’t mourn for them. They would have died happily. They would think they were going to Heaven, into the embrace of their God.

“We have been here ever since. Of course, with so few of us, the monastery has fallen into disrepair. Once, the villagers brought us food because they revered us. Now they give it to us because they are afraid. We have survived a very long time, always waiting, always watching the door. Because we knew that you would come. And recently we realized that our time had come. We were expecting you.”

“How?”

“Because the Old Ones have returned to the world. Even now, they are gathering strength, waiting to take back what was always theirs. Their agents have contacted us. Very soon, we will hand you over to them. And then we will have our reward.”

“What will happen to me?”

“The Old Ones will not kill you. You don’t need to be afraid. But they will need to keep you close to them and you still must pay for what you did to them so many years ago.”

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

He nodded his head sadly. “A great pity,” he murmured.

“I had expected more of you. A warrior or a great magician. But you really are nothing. A little girl, as you said, from school. Maybe the Old Ones will let me torture you for a while before you go. I would like that very much. To pay you for the disappointment. We will see…”

He stood up and went over to the door. He walked with a limp and it occurred to Scarlett that as well as the diseased eye, he might have a withered leg. It took him a while even to cross the room and she briefly wondered if she might be able to overpower him. But it wouldn’t have done any good. When he opened the door, the two monks who had brought her there were waiting on the other side.

“They will take you back to your cell,” he said. “They will also bring you food and water. I imagine you will be with us a few days.”

Scarlett stood up and walked past him. There was nothing else she could do. For a brief moment, the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway. Father Gregory reached out and stroked her hair. Scarlett shuddered. She didn’t even try to hide her revulsion.

“Goodbye, Scarlett,” he said. “You have no idea how glad I am that we have met.”

Scarlett let the two monks walk her away. She didn’t look back.

They took Scarlett back to the same cell she had occupied – but they had been busy while she was away. Someone had carried in a bed, although the moment she saw it she knew she wasn’t going to be allowed the privilege of a comfortable sleep. It was little more than a cot with sagging springs and a metal frame and she wouldn’t even be able to stretch out without her feet going over the end. There were just two coarse blankets to protect her from the chill of the night and no pillow.

They had also supplied her with a table, a chair and a bucket which she guessed she would be expected to use as a toilet, although she didn’t even want to think about that. A candle in a glass lantern now lit the room and they had provided her with a meagre dinner. A bowl of thin, vegetable soup, a hunk of bread and a mug were waiting on the table. There was a spoon to eat with – and if Scarlett had any thought of using it as a weapon, her hopes were soon dashed. It was flimsy, made of tin. They hadn’t bothered with a knife or a fork.

She didn’t feel like eating yet. If anything, the sight of the starvation rations brought home the full horror of her situation. These people were utterly merciless. They wanted her to live but they didn’t care how miserable or painful her life became – they had made that much clear. Scarlett sat down on the bed and sank her head into her hands. She thought she was going to cry, but the tears didn’t come. The Old Ones. The Gatekeepers. The twenty-five doors around the world. Everything that Father Gregory had said seemed to spin round and round her, sucking her ever further into a tunnel of misery and despair. How could this have happened to her? Could any of it really be true?