An Inhuman Condition

Mental Note: NEED TO KEEP WORKING ON THIS!
Sketch art and characters are from my bittery dick of a pal at http://ugisart.com/. He also has these really funny comics for sale at http://futurelandfillpress.bigcartel.com

VII – Patientia

While the Curia Nocte sit gathered at the Apostolic See of St. Simon, Mother Death is escorted by Lord Hat through the catacombs to the chamber. Lord Hat has slowed his pace to match her frail speed. Neither the shadow man nor the Mother require a torch, and instead make their way through the darkness in near silence. It’s rare that the Curia requests her formal presence at their chamber, and the messenger was very vague about the purpose of their meeting. Whispers of the pope’s illness had already reached them, but it was clear the Camerlengo was concealing the true nature of events. Lord Hat was the first to step from the shadows and appear before the council. In the dim torchlight, he was nothing but the silhouette of a form as he addressed the Curia Nocte.

“Presenting Mother Death.”

She moved slowly into the light, first appearing as nothing but rags and shadows like her Lord escort. As the light filled under her shroud, the cracks and crevices of her exposed skull could be seen. Her hands withered down to the bone and grit of cartilage like the rest of her shrunken figure, but much larger than the rest of her frame. The deep sockets that used to hold eyes and nose stayed a shadowy void as if the light dared not enter. Her jaw remained, but had stretched unnaturally wide filled in with the rotting ivory stubbs of what were once full teeth. To the few cardinals among them seeing her for the first time, the shivering feel of decay seemed to emanate from those dark gaps staring forward at them like the void of death itself.

Clavis Custos placed his hands together tightly, “Thank you for joining us. We know how difficult it is for you travel inside the city.”

“By now you must have heard something of the pope’s state. I would like to know whether you or your agents could have something to do with the abnormal state in which we find the pontiff.”

“What state is that, Clavis?” the raspy gasps from Mother Death doubled every long vowel, chilling further the bones of the uninitiated. Custos felt a crawl along his neck as she spoke his name.

“He’s a gorilla now.” Custos felt bluntness was the best tool against the skeletal figure in front of his council.

“Ah,” she paused, “Not mine.”

“We figured as much, but it would be irresponsible not to ask. Do you know who might hold magick capable of such a transformation?”

Without hesitation she replied, “The Kabbalah.”

Cardinal Giorgi exclaimed, “The Kabbalah were eliminated in the last war, you took care of that yourself. We’ve seen no activity from them for decades since. Are you insisting you didn’t extinguish their fire?”

“Giorgi is right,” Custos insisted, “the Kabbalah are all dead.”

“Magick doesn’t die. Kabbalah’s magick is responsible.”

“Then you’re saying they aren’t dead?” Cardinal Orsini gathered the courage to ask.

“Still magick in death. Especially in death. Find it in followers, artifacts, scraped from the bones, they are the magick.”

“Enough cryptic speculation,” Custos exclaimed, “It’s clear we aren’t going to find answers here, but there may still be solutions. You have taken care of our problems before. Given these circumstances, it would be best for you to assist us again.”

“What must be done?” Death whispered.

“Sede vacante, Mother. Quiet, efficient and within a week’s time. He cannot leave the papal chambers, and there can be no bread crumbs for the Vatican government or uninitiated to pick up and piece together. We need a clean succession.”

“Sede vacante, yes. Will need access, unhindered. Must have his staff as payment.”

“Ha,” Giorgi snorted, “What would you do with the papal ferula?”

“No,” Custos corrected, “That is not what she wants.” He took a look at Mother Death before responding. “Fine, have it. It’s not like we can put his real remains in the Basilica anyway.”

Mother Death turned away and began her exit. “Magick doesn’t die, but Sergius can. Will have sede vacante.” Her Lord escort tipped his hat to the room and followed after her down the corridor.