CHAPTER 9
“It’s all right, Giovanni.” Andrew, now invisible to Benito, put his arm around the shoulder of the spirit of Pope Benedict. “Your nephew’s going to be all right now. Monica and the others will talk to him and tell him what to do. God is proud of you for the choices you made tonight—He told me to tell you so.”
Pope Benedict smiled. He felt better than he’d ever felt in life, both physically and emotionally. “May I stay here and watch?”
“Certainly. We both will.” Andrew smiled and nodded.
Grief surged in Benito’s heart as he stared down at his uncle’s now-lifeless body. He couldn’t believe that his uncle was dead! Now Benito was totally bereft. Sinking forward, he took deep breaths, as he pressed his face against his uncle’s unmoving chest. The rain had subsided some, he noticed. The storm was apparently moving out. Who cares? he thought.
“I—I’m so sorry, uncle,” Benito said in a choked voice. “I’m so sorry!”
“He knows, Benito. Your uncle knows.” Monica’s gentle voice startled the boy. “And so does God.”
Tears flowed down the boy’s face. Monica put her arms around him. “It’s all right to cry,” she said. “I know you miss him.”
“I do. He took me in when my parents disappeared.” Benito took a deep, shuddering breath. “Who’s going to take me in now?!”
“Someone will, Benito. God has you in His hands right now. He loves you.”
Benito leaned back. Deep pain lay like a heavy stone in his gut. “God must be pretty mad at me.” He gazed down at his jeans-clad legs as he spoke.
Monica cupped her hand under his chin, then lifted his head to face hers. “He’s disappointed in the choices you’ve made, as of late. He’s disappointed that you sought to deal with the pain of the move by turning to occultic activities, and that you tried to erase the turmoil that resulted with drugs.”
“Please—” Benito took a deep, shuddering breath. “Please tell God I’m sorry.”
Monica gently squeezed his shoulder. “He knows, Benito. He knows.”
The grief-stricken boy shook his head, as confusion welled up in his heart. For the past few years, since the disappearance of his devout parents, his uncle had told him that the new religion was the way to go; now he was being told the opposite! “This—this isn’t what my uncle taught me, Monica! Or the gurus he sent me to.” He moaned. “I’m so confused!”
“I know. The devil wants to confuse you, Benito. To prevent you from seeing the truth.” Monica touched his arm.
“He certainly does.” Tess appeared on the other side of Monica; Gloria appeared opposite Pope Benedict’s body. Unknown to the boy, she stood next to Andrew and Pope Benedict’s spirit. Tess smiled at Benito, then a stern expression crept into her eyes. “Throughout the ages, the devil has tried in every way to thwart God’s plan, to destroy mankind, by deceiving people. He wants to deceive you even now, Benito, even as God is trying to get your attention. You have the choice of believing his lies or accepting God’s truth.”
Monica nodded agreement, then turned to the boy. “Did you read the book I gave you?”
Benito gazed at her. “The Screwtape Letters?” Monica nodded. “Yes, I read it. It’s quite a story, but—”
“The Screwtape Letters is more than just a story, Benito. It’s an allegory of the traps the devil sets, to keep people from knowing the Father.” Monica paused. “The devil tries to trick people into believing a great many lies, all designed to keep them from knowing and acting on the truth. The truth, Benito, is that God is real, and that He loves you. He paid the ultimate price to show you the depths of His love. He wants what’s best for you. But during this Tribulation period, the devil is pulling out all the stops, trying to make people believe his lies instead of God’s truth.”
“He certainly is,” Gloria agreed. “And in recent years, he has stepped up his efforts.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Sadness creased Monica’s forehead. “For three-and-a-half years, he used your uncle as a tool to entrap the souls of a great many people; in the end, God had to send angels to bring him to an awareness of the truth before the devil’s lies killed him. And now Satan is going to use Antonio Puccini, in the same way.”
“How?” Benito stared at her.
“By indwelling him, by requiring the whole world to worship him and swear allegiance to him.” She sighed. “Those who do will never be able to come to know God, or to live with Him.” Monica squeezed his arm. “God doesn’t want you to make that mistake. Your uncle’s life is over, but you’re still alive. God wants you to stay alive now, and He wants you to make the choices that will keep you alive, spiritually.”
With a nod, Benito wiped his eyes. For a long moment, he gazed down at his uncle’s body. “What—what does God want me to do now?”
Monica hugged the boy against her side. Her luxuriant brown hair draped over his shoulder as he leaned against her. The sweet scent of perfume wafted toward his nostrils. “Receive His Son into your heart. Live in His love, His peace. Share in the faith that your parents lived in, and which became your uncle’s at the end. That faith will sustain you in the dark times that lie ahead.”
Nodding acquiescence, Benito bowed his head. “Please, Jesus,” he prayed, “come into my heart and save my soul. Forgive me for letting you down. Amen.” He made the sign of the cross, as he had customarily done when his parents had been alive. A peace he had never experienced before flooded his heart.
With a sigh, he turned to Monica. “Thank you.” He glanced at Tess, then Gloria. “Thank you.”
Monica patted his shoulder. “You’re welcome. God loves you, Benito, and He will watch over you until Jesus comes back to rule this planet. When He does, you will be reunited with your parents and your uncle. He has a guardian planned for you, even now.”
Benito nodded. “What about my uncle Giovanni?”
Monica smiled. “Your uncle is at peace now. Thanks to God’s intervention, he was able to die in peace.” Deep sadness creased her forehead again. “It’s too bad he could not have known it sooner.”
Benito nodded. “I hate Babylon. I’ll never be at peace here. Will I have to stay here, now that my uncle’s gone?”
Monica shook her head. “You will go back to Rome to live, but the time is coming when you will have to go into hiding. Every other believer will have to do the same.”
Biting his lower lip, Benito sighed. “Yes, I will, won’t I? My uncle tried to stamp out Christianity, but he failed. You said the devil was going to use Puccini to deceive the world, too, as he used my uncle.” Monica nodded. Benito glanced out the window. The rain had just stopped. “Is—is Puccini going to do the same as my uncle Giovanni?”
“He will have the same goal as your uncle—to keep people from knowing the true God—and he will achieve it with far greater success. I told you how he will, a few minutes ago.” Monica sighed heavily. “A multitude of believers too great to be numbered will die at the hands of the world government he controls, because they will refuse to take the mark Puccini will force people to receive, or worship the image that Elijah Dayan will order set up in his honor. And now that your uncle’s dead and his religion is about to be disbanded, that day is coming very soon.”
The conference door slammed open; Silvo rushed into the room, his face white with shock. He crouched over the pope’s body, then stared at Benito. “I’m so sorry, Benito! I truly am.” A mixture of grief and guilt warred on his face. “It’s—it’s my fault he’s dead. I—I did a terrible thing, Benito. And it got your uncle killed.”
Benito leaned back on his heels, staring at his friend. He dug his fingertips against the soft rug to keep his balance. “What do you mean?”
Silvo took a deep breath, making an obvious effort to keep his eyes fixed on Benito’s. He clenched and unclenched his hands as he rested them in his lap. “I—I told a lie, Benito. A terrible lie. When my father caught me—with the crack.”
He bit his lower lip. “I—I told him...” His voice trailed off. Swallowing hard, he continued. “I told him I’d gotten the crack from you. And that you’d gotten it from your uncle.” He shook his head, as he looked down at his knees. “You see, when my father caught me, he—he said he was going to turn me over to the authorities. When he said that, I—I behaved as a coward.”
Benito spat out the words. “And got my uncle killed! They killed him because of your lie!”
Monica laid her hand on his shoulder; Silvo’s face turned pale again as he gaped at the angel bending over Benito. “When—how—I didn’t see you--!”
“I’m an angel, Silvo.” Monica knelt between the two boys. “Sent by God, to minister His love to Benito, here, and to his uncle. And to deliver God’s messages to both.”
She turned to Benito, who knelt glaring at the other boy. “Benito, your uncle’s wrong choices led to his death. The events of this weekend were simply the catalyst that brought it about. Yes, Silvo made a hurtful decision that served as that catalyst. But the decisions your uncle made and the actions he took—years ago and in the time since—set in motion a chain of events that resulted in his death tonight.”
Silvo gazed at the other boy, deep shame in his eyes. “Benito, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I never wanted to get your uncle killed! I—I was just cowardly. I thought I was better off that way, risking…getting you and your uncle in trouble...than receiving the punishment my father threatened me with.” He sighed, gazing down at the pope’s body and the pool of blood surrounding it. “I won’t blame you if you hate me. I deserve it.”
Monica reached sideways to touch Silvo’s shoulder. “Silvo, it takes a big man to admit to a wrong he’s committed. Tonight, you have acted like a man.”
She turned to Benito. “And Benito, it takes a generous heart to forgive. Harboring resentment and hatred toward Silvo will only hurt you, rob you of the peace God has just given you.”
Benito sighed. “Yes.” The rage melted from his heart. He looked at Silvo. “I—I might have been just as cowardly, if it’d been me. So I guess I have no right to hold it against you.”
Monica nodded agreement. Resting her hands on her lap, she propped her fingers together. “And now that you’ve found God’s peace, Benito, don’t you think it’s time you got rid of your marijuana?” She turned to Silvo. “And your crack?”
Silvo scrambled to his feet; Benito followed suit. “Yes.” Silvo nodded. “It is.” He turned to Benito. “Come with me. We’ll flush my crack down the toilet.”
Benito nodded. “Then we’ll go to my rooms, and do the same with my marijuana. I don’t need it anymore.”
The two boys left the conference room; rising to her own feet, Monica turned to the other angels and to Pope Benedict. “Your nephew is going to be all right now, Giovanni,” she said softly. “Hard times lie ahead of him and Silvo, but God is with them, and He will see them through.”
Pope Benedict nodded. “Who will take him in?”
Andrew smiled. “Believe it or not, your old enemy, Giuseppe Spadolini. He has already made the decision to take Benito home with him and Silvo; he announced it to the other leaders the other day. Whether the boys will survive to see Jesus’ coming or join you in Heaven first, only the Father knows. But you will be reunited with your nephew either way, when God’s time comes.”
“Yes, you will.” Monica’s eyes shone. “And it will be a joyous day for you both!”
“Indeed, it will be.” Tess exchanged a beaming smile with Gloria. “It’s a joyous day in Heaven, among the angels, Giovanni! And for us here, because you belong to God now.”
Andrew gestured toward the window. “And now, are you ready to go Home?” Beaming in his turn, the pope nodded. Andrew put his arm around the pope’s shoulder; a second later, the two disappeared from sight. Outside the window, a few stars reappeared in the night sky.
END OF CHAPTER 9