Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

132 :: JOHN R. MABRY
the deacon turned and made his way towards the dormitory.
Tom had no choice but to follow. Within a few minutes he
found himself outside one of the doors, exactly like the hundreds
of others on the three floors of dorm rooms the convent
made available for retreatants and conference attendees.
Bishop Mellert opened the door and waved Tom inside.
“Thank you, Eldritch,” he said to the deacon. “I won’t be
needing you for the rest of the evening. Thank you for all
your hard work today.” He shook the young man’s hand,
and scanned the hallway suspiciously before closing the door
and turning to his guest.
Tom was quite impressed with the room. His own could
reasonably be described as a cell. It was hardly large enough
to turn around in, and contained nothing more than a small
single bed, a sink, a desk, and a small wardrobe, all in a mere
five-by-eight-foot area. But this room was much larger—
obviously designed for married couples, the room sported a
full-sized bed, a book case, and enough room to actually
dress oneself in comfortably. Lucky bastard, Tom thought.
“Tom, have a seat.” Tom did, appreciating the fact that
the room also contained chairs, which had never seemed
such a luxury before.
Bishop Mellert sat on the bed and sighed.
“What’s going on?” Tom asked.
Mellert picked up a FedEx package and handed it to him.
Tom took it and peered inside.
“I just picked this up at the front desk, halfway through
dinner. I warn you, Tom, it’s disturbing.”
Tom shook the contents out onto his lap and swallowed.
They were an assortment of papers and photos, he noted, all
of them either mentioning or showing members of the Order
of St. Raphael—none of them in a good light.
As Tom turned page after page, his face lost color, and he
felt a cold sweat begin to break out on his forehead. By the
time he turned the last one over, he felt faint.