THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA

  { PT.  2 } - Cover your mouth, shouted Christiano above the cacophonous clanging of alarms and the blood-curdling screams of crewmen being devoured by the advancing flames. A coughing sound at the doorway revealed Frya struggling with her unconscious father, who she was dragging as best she could along the sweltering linoleum floor.I need to get him off the ground. Christiano pulled him over his shoulder. Get to top deck and stay close together. Walk in front of me. The agonising screams chased around them like taunting spectres. The women caught sight of a human torch scurrying to the end of the blazing corridor. His flesh melted like plastic off his face, leaving bulging eyes burdened with the torment to hell. They screamed as he dropped to the floor, his agonised cries silenced by the flames cremating his body. The bulkhead door at the top of the stairs flew open. The Chief Officer yelled, Abandon ship! Get to the lifeboats. The women scrambled up the clanging metal steps, their l

  { PT.  1 } - ( CHAPTER  48 )                                      The ear-splitting shrill of seven short blasts could have woken the dead. Christiano and Angelica shot upwards and turned to each other with a quizzical look that seemed to suspend in time. The long alarm followed. Its screech left a high-pitched ringing in their ears. Christiano scrambled for the lift jackets in a nearby cupboard and rushed to place one on Angelica and then on himself. What do you think is going on? I don't know, but we'd better follow protocol. He finished clipping his jacket and made his way to the porthole to take a look outside. The ocean was as calm as a mirror. He turned his head from left to right. I can't see anything wro--A sudden blast ripped through the ship, knocking them both off their feet. Sounds of tearing metal and gushing water followed as if the ship was being torn in two. Christiano crawled across the floor to Angelica, pulled close to his chest. Whatever happens, stay

  { PT.  3 } - CAPTAIN COSTANTINO AWOKE WITH  a start. There was something bothering him on this trip--a foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach. For days before the voyage, he had recurring nightmares of a raging fire on his ship, and each dream became more vivid. Now he was seeing the dead, mutilated bodies of his crewmen strewn around the vessel. Arms separated from legs, entrails lining the corridors and pieces of bloodied flesh papering the walls. He stood by the sink, splashed cold water on his face and stared into the mirror as he wiped his skin dry. The icy dread in his eyes perturbed him. He dressed and made his way to the bridge for a cup of coffee and a chat with his second mate. The ship's creaks and rumbles sounded like a hungry old whale with arthritic joints. The lights above him flickered, transforming the corridor into a dark, dank cavern. There was fear in the air. It smelled metallic. He reached the metal door and noticed that it was slightly ajar. He slid i

  { PT.  4 } - The ear-splitting shrill of seven short blasts could have woken the dead. 

  { PT.  2 } - The rest would die most likely in pain from the explosion--screaming in agony as they lost a limb or burned alive. Others would drown. Whichever way you looked at it, only he would get away. He would make sure of that. He proceeded to plant the bomb to blast in thirty minutes time and, as a precaution, set an emergency remote detonator on his cell phone. He left the deceased body and the monotonous drone of the engine room muffled behind the locker door and bounded up the clanging metal carcass of the ship's bowels, where another crew member, carrying two cups, stood waiting for him to pass. Are you taking Torin some coffee? asked Kristoff. Yes, we're both on duty. He wondered where you'd got to. The unsuspecting man continued past Kristoff who plunged the knife into his back, penetrating his heart with the precision of a surgeon. His back arched in a violent spasm. He hurtled forward, his body hitting every step and landing at the bottom in a twisted, bone-s

  { PT.  1 } - In the pulsing heat of the engine room, the crewman's terror-filled eyes stared down in disbelief at the dagger protruding from his chest. Kristoff waited patiently for him to die. Examining has last moments through his caliginous eyes; watching the motions of his dying body with the eager curiosity of a servant. No one ever died in prace. He could write a book on the subject and draw from his extensive knowledge and experience as a professional assassin. It was his art. He had disposed of many, killing indiscriminately, savouring the high it gave him. He was like the Highlander after decapitating an immortal and gaining all his power. The intimacy of the blade far out-weighed the gun's impersonal distance. He craved the feel of the person's flesh; the ice-cold prickle of the skin. He could be but an inch from his victim's eyes; a witness to his own reflection as the bringer of death--the Grim Reaper himself. The ecstasy he felt as the blade savagely ripp

  { PT.  10 } - Christiano's blood-short eyes tried to focus on her. There isn't any, is there? No. It seems they have mysteriously vanished. What are the chances? His speech was now slurring. Exactly. She pulled on the cabin door ensuring it was securely locked before removing her dress and carefully laying it out on the top bunk. She slipped on a long t-shirt and slid in next to Chritiano. Let's try to get some sleep, okay. She lay his head on her belly and gently stroked his hair. Hopefully, things will be better in the morning. He smiled, faintly, and weakly lifted his left hand in the air and tried to remove Angelica's ring from his finger. Why are you taking it off? she asked. I don't want to lose it. Please, help... Angelica gave the ring a few tugs before it finally relented. She slipped it back onto her little finger. Do you want your ring back? No, he murmured. Not until I buy you one in Greece... We had a good night, didn't we? He smiled frailly, his

  { PT.  9 } - We covered our tracks well. So you think I'm just being paranoid? After what we've all been through, I wouldn't rule it out, but even on a large ship you will see the same people in the communal areas. You're right. I'm reading too much into this. Well, there's nothing anyone can do tonight. When the Captain returns,you should mention it to him. At the very least, he will warn him off in the meantime, let's keep our cabins locked. Yes, I'll do that. Look, thanks again, for everything. The dress was beautiful. I will give it to you in the morning. You wore it well, replied Frya. You look stunning, and the ceremony was magical. They gave each other a hug  and Angelica made her way next door to find that the smell in her cabin did not fare better. Christiano's head was buried in the porthole. Is that helping? He turned to her, his face pallid and his eyes drooping and moist. You've been sick, haven't you? In the sink. I cleaned it

  { PT.  8 } - THE MESS HALL WAS still a party, too many merry men making too much noise. What was at first a wonderful surprise had suddenly turned into a rowdy affair. Kristoff saw Angelica enter the room and walked to the head table. He downed his whisky while his hungry gaze followed her every movement. Two drunk and blithesome crewman unintentionally strolled into his line of sight. He rose from his seat and bulldozed them aside, making his way towards her. Have you lost something? His hot breath steamed the side of her face, and the waft of whisky unsettled her stomach. She turned to find him inches from her. His nebulous eyes protruded like a dead fish. No, it's fine. She visibly gulped, averted her eyes from his and headed straight for the door. She rushed back to her quarters, stealing glances behind her before stopping at Frya's door. The smell of vomit breezed towards her as she entered the cabin. Is there anything I can do? Kurush was markedly better, lying peaceful