We were on vacation backpacking through Europe, staying in hostels and trying to make every penny count, when we met Lorenzo. We were in a pub outside London, doing what American college students do best when traveling across the pond. Mostly, pissing off the locals. We were about to get kicked out of yet another pub, the third one since our trip started, when he approached us.

“You Americans, you only think you know how to have fun. I show you better way, show you things that you will talk about for the rest of your lives… for a price” he said, his thick Italian accent obscuring the insulting nature behind his words and hyping the intrigue of his offer.

There were four of us. Marcus- my best friend, Julie- his girlfriend, and Amanda- Julie’s best friend. I always had the biggest crush on Amanda, ever since we first met. Me? I’m Franklin, by the way. Four American college students, spending the summer in Europe, making memories and seeing the inside of as many pubs and bars as we could afford.

When this young darkly handsome Italian approached us and offered to show us an unforgettable time, we were all skeptical. We’ve all seen too many movies and knew to be weary about who you trust in a strange new land. Hostel, Taken, etc. We were all ready to blow him off, until he mentioned Rome. That was all it took.

“OMG, I’ve always wanted to go there! Just think of the centuries worth of history, the brilliant architecture, the sculptures and paintings! It’s on my bucket list! Oh please please please, can we!?” Amanada pleaded desperately. She seemed to be alone on the decision of wanting to go, so me being smitten by her like I was, I jumped on the bandwagon. Anything that I could do to make her happy, as well as spend more time with her, I was down for.

“That’s two for, and two against. We’re deadlocked, it seems. Come on, Marcus, pretty please? If we all go there will be four of us. There’s only one of him, if push comes to shove. Plus, you’ve got that stun gun, Julie. And Marcus, you know karate…” Amanda pleaded with the couple.

“How much?” Marcus asked the stranger, his resolve visibly weakening.

“You pay for my train ticket and give me 50 euros, and we go, I take you” Lorenzo said with his limited use of English. “My cousin is priest, I take you to beautiful church, and he let us in. Show you things not allowed to the public…” he said, trying to seal the deal. It worked, as shortly after we were all in agreement.

On the train ride there we all goofed about and bantered. I couldn’t help but notice Lorenzo was suspiciously quiet. I had chalked it up to him not having the best grasp of the English language, much less our bastardized American version of it. So long as he kept his word, we were sure to have a blast, but I still kept my eyes on him like a hawk. He had agreed that we wouldn’t have to pay him until we arrived at the church in question, a reasonable stipulation. Even so, I didn’t fully trust him.

When we arrived, Lorenzo made a few phone calls, speaking Italian the whole time. Marcus, standing behind him, began mocking him by pressing his fingers and thumb together and flapping his wrists in that classically Italian gesture that they tend to do when talking passionately about something, usually food. It got a chuckle out of us, and thankfully Lorenzo hadn’t noticed, so engrossed he was with his phone conversation.

When he finally finished his phone call, he bid us to follow him. We passed many gorgeous fountains and ancient temples of worship along the way. Naturally, Amanda wanted to stop at every single one and take it all in, though reluctantly couldn’t, lest we fall behind our guide.

“We’ll have plenty of time to check all of it out after our little adventure. This guy is supposed to show us things not usually open to the public, and all of the regular sights aren’t going anywhere. We’ll come back, I promise” Marcus chided her along.

I couldn’t blame her, the sheer number of beautiful statues, frescos, and unique architectural marvels that we passed couldn’t help but catch the eye. This place was like a daunting maze, and around every corner history had been lived and written. We would have to stay here for days to see even a fraction of all that it had to offer.

“Here we are, my friends. Chiesa del Gesu- the First Church of the Jesuits. Stay right here, while I find my uncle” he said, and was off. He left us standing before it’s amazing paintings in the nave.

“That’s odd…” I thought. “Didn’t he say we were going to see his cousin? Now he says it’s his uncle” I pointed out.

“English isn’t exactly his first language. Maybe he misspoke?” Julie said.

“Look '' Amanda pointed across the large church to where Lorenzo was talking with an older looking man wearing priest garb. “He obviously meant uncle, judging by their age difference. Plus, the guy looks legit, I seriously doubt we’d be scammed by a man of god. Wouldn’t be very Christ-like.” We laughed at the tone in which she added that last bit, drawing the judging eyes of several nearby parishioners deep in prayer.

“Cousin, uncle, priest or pope. I don’t care, if they try to pull anything over on us, I’ll fuck ‘em up” Marcus added, receiving a smack on the arm from Julie at his side.

“Don’t curse. We’re in God’s house” she said after the smack, shooting daggers with her eyes. She always was the adult in the relationship. Back in our first year of college, Marcus and Julie had first met when he was acting an immature fool and Julie called him out on his bullshit. They’ve been together ever since, proving that at least in some cases, opposites really do attract.

I turned and left their bickering to go and stand next to Amanda, who had wandered a few feet away and was completely engrossed in the majesty of a fresco on the ceiling portraying dozens of souls ascending up into the heavens, a multitude of cherub-like angels and saints above surrounding Jesus waiting to receive them. Golden rays of sunshine bathed their stoic faces as they gazed upward into the torrent of angels above. In contrast surrounding the perimeter of the painting were a gathering of stucco sculpted heretics, appearing to be hurled back toward the earth on their dark storm infested clouds. The whole arrangement, when combined together, had an effect as if the three dimensional sculpted sinners were pouring forth from the painting, and was jaw dropping in it’s intricacy and grandeur.

We stood there in silence, absorbing it all in, when a voice broke our trance. “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”

We both turned around and looked. It was Lorenzo’s cousin/uncle, standing behind us and looking upward to the installment that had us so captivated, his hands folded behind his back in a posture of unthreatening authority.

“It was designed by Giovanni Battista Guili, years after the church’s completion. You see the sinners, around its border? Protestants, or so the church believes. Are… are you Protestants, by chance?” he asked, though in a non judgemental tone.

“No sir. I was raised Catholic, until my mother passed away” I said, receiving a smile from the older priest.

He turned to Amanda, raising a quizzical eyebrow as if to ask “And you?”

“Oh, non denominational” she answered his silent query.

He merely maintained his friendly smile at her answer, though for just a split second, I could swear I saw a facial twitch.

“Those were different times” he said, gesturing back upward with a glance. “These days, all are welcome in The Lord’s house… the way it should be. Lorenzo told me you are students, yes? And that you wish to see some of our more… private artifacts in our collection?”

“Yes sir, very much so!” Amanda answered, her face beaming with excitement.

“Please, call me Father. Father Antonio. And it would be my pleasure. If you could gather your friends over there, and meet me by the ambulatory whenever you are ready” he stated, giving a nod before turning and walking away toward one of the side walls deeper within the structure.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” Amanda said, giddy. “This is going to be amazing, I can already tell.” She reached out and grabbed me by the hand. Her skin was so soft, I remember thinking at the time. How I wanted to hold her hand so badly, numerous times since I met her, my heart skipped a beat. She looked up and into my eyes, sincerity incarnate. “Thank you so much, Franklin. I know you only agreed to do this because I wanted to so badly. I’m not blind, I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes, when you think I’m not looking” she squeezed my hand tenderly. “I’ve been waiting quite a while for you to make your move, ya know…” she said, smiling up at me, her eyes two hazel pools I wanted to drown in.

“I…uh…me?” I stuttered, completely taken off guard by this sudden turn of events. “What’s not to like? You’re… amazing. In every way…” I somehow managed to blurt, as if the words were already within my throat waiting to be released. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so lon-” I continued, but was stopped by her putting a silencing finger to my lips, accompanied by the brightest smile I’ve ever seen grace her beautiful lips.

“We’ll talk later” she shushed me with a wink. The butterflies in my gut were flapping and fluttering so hard, it’s a miracle I didn’t lift off of the ground and get carried upward into the waiting heavens above along with the other faithful portrayed in the masterpiece we had just been gazing upon mere moments ago.

Still holding hands, we returned to Marcus and Julie, still bickering where we had left them.

“It’s legit! Are you guys ready, or do you need more time to argue about who has the bigger ego?” Amanda teased playfully. We all knew that would take decades.

Marcus swung his arm around Julie. “Nah we’re ready, I was just making a point and winning.” This awarded him with Julie’s elbow to his ribs.

Together, we made our way across the church toward the waiting priest. Marcus leaned back, locking eyes with me behind the girls’ shoulders. He looked down at Amanda’s hand and mine intertwined, then back up at me. In that moment, we used that ability all guys have with other men, holding an entire conversation with nothing more than a few glances, and facial expressions. If conveyed with actual words, it would have gone something like-

Him: “You FINALLY made your move!?”

Me: “Something like that.”

Him: “Nice, bro! About damn time.”

No doubt the girls had their own psychically silent conversation, only they were far better at it in every way, and were able to convey infinitely more complex notions and communicate without the need of even eye contact. Such is the advanced nature of the fairer sex.

Before we arrived in front of the old priest we were intercepted by Lorenzo, who merely extended his palm in expectation of payment. He seemed satisfied when the money was placed in his grasp, and wordlessly he turned toward the entrance and left.

We followed Father Antonio through an intricately carved door that was previously cordoned off by a red velvet rope.

“I suppose you want the full tour experience?” he asked as he led the way, not even glancing over his shoulder at us.

“Yes, please!” Amanda chirped.

“Of Course. Construction began in 1568, under the leadership of Pope Pius V who was granted the duty of Pope two years before. He died sadly, before seeing its completion in 1580.”

“Bull. You’re telling us that this place only took 12 years to build? All of this?” Marcus asked incredulously.

“Absolutely. Many of the frescos and other installations were later additions, mind you. But the actual building itself, only 12 years. It was a testament to the skill of the stonemasons of their time. Sadly, Pope Pius V never saw its completion while… let’s say, he was above ground.”

“Astounding…” Amanda muttered under her breath, while gawking.

“Would you like to see him?” Father Antonio asked, receiving only our confusion as an answer.

“Like… his corpse?” I said, not able to discern the man of God’s intent.

His face was a death mask of seriousness. He merely stood there, staring at us wordlessly for several moments, moments that stretched out into an awkward if not macabre eternity. He finally broke the tension with a comical, yet warm smile. “Of course not. I have a portrait of him in my office.” He let out a slight chuckle at our relief. We all let out laughs as well. Laughs that were masking sighs of relief.

“You’re funny, Father. I didn’t know priests were allowed to have a sense of humor” Julie said.

“When you’ve been in the church as long as I have, you’ll discover that God Himself has the ultimate sense of humor, my child.”

We followed the old man from room to room while he went into historic detail about the many artworks and installations of Chiesa del Gesu. Many master painters and sculptors attributed to that grand cathedral over the centuries, each one adding to its magnificent grandeur. We were surrounded by beautiful things, though I’ll admit, I zoned out a good deal everytime we transitioned between rooms. By far, the most beautiful thing in the church was still holding my hand, giving subtle and gentle squeezes, every one a message my mind occupied itself in deciphering.

“What’s down there?” Marcus asked while we were walking down a particularly ancient looking stone corridor. He pointed through a stone archway which led downward into blackness.

“That, my son, leads down into the substructure. It’s where the church keeps some of our more… delicate secrets.”

“Secrets? What kind of secrets?” he asked.

“The kind forbidden to the public. That is all you need to know” he answered curtly.

It was at that moment a younger man wearing church garb came quickly around the corner in which we had just come. He called out to Father Antonio and hastily walked up to the old priest. He was panting heavily, as if he had been running before turning the corner in his search for the old man. After whispering something into his ear, Father Antonio’s posture straightened and his eyes widened, as if in alarm.

“That concludes our tour, I’m afraid. There’s a pressing matter that requires my personal attention. I apologize, but I must leave you here, I trust you remember the way back to the nave?” he asked but was already walking away at a fast pace, making the question a rhetorical one and leaving us standing there unattended.

“That was… odd,” Amanda said. “I wonder what was up with that?”

“I dunno, but I didn’t feel like I quite got my money’s worth” Marcus stated, already peering toward whatever lay at the bottom of the dark stone stairwell. Down toward the ‘forbidden’. “What do you say, guys?”

“I’m not so sure. I think we call it a day and find a place to hang our hats for the night” I said. I’m not gonna lie, I WAS curious, but my opinion was biased. I was slightly more concerned with leaving so that Amanda and I could be alone. I was thrilled with this turn of events between us, and I had SO much on my mind that I wanted to pour out to her. In private. I’d do just about anything for that woman, which was why whenever she tugged my hand to follow down those roughly hewn stone steps, I followed.

It was dark, and lighting the way with the flashlight on his phone, Marcus led the way. After a while, the steps began curving downward, and with the depth the temperature began dropping. The stone walls glistened with moisture as we descended deeper and deeper. Amanda’s hand became sweaty in mine, as she began gripping it tighter as we went. I had to hand it to her though, even though she was obviously getting a little perturbed by how deep we were going, she hadn’t put it to words. I guess her curiosity outweighed her fear. She was braver than Julie, at least, who had begged to turn back several times by the time we finally reached the bottom.

At the bottom was a corridor. It appeared to be cut from the very volcanic rock itself, and as we all shined our cell phone lights around into the darkness I couldn’t help but feel amazed.

“I know what this is!” Amanda exclaimed, her voice echoing far off into the distance from both sides of the tunnel. “These are some of the lost catacombs beneath Rome!”

“Catacombs?” Julie whispered loudly, as if fearing to reproduce the echo that Amanda’s voice had just caused. “Like dead people? Hell nah…” She began trying to drag Marcus back up the stairs by the hand, though she hadn’t been able to even budge him.

“Fuckin sweet. Now this is what I paid for!” he said, not even phased by Julie’s incessant pulling and attempts at dragging him. “It’ll be alright babe, I got you. Just stay close to me if you’re scared.”

She reluctantly gave up, knowing like we all did that once Marcus got it in his mind he was doing something, there was no easy way of talking him out of it. With her arms drawn in close to her sides, she squished her body against his, reminding me of a shy child hiding behind their mother’s skirt.

It was like entering a forgotten era, a sepulchre for the dead. There were numerous slots carved into the walls lining both sides of the passage stacked three high in most places. ‘Loculi’, as Amanda called them. Few still had large rectangular slate sheets of rock enclosing them in, though for every one that was still intact, there were dozens that were smashed open, and even more that were nonexistent and open to the beams of our lights. Shrouded skeletons occupied them, their shapes beneath the time worn shrouds suggestive of the bones belonging to the occupants beneath.

“I wrote a paper on the catacombs beneath Paris. While doing research for it, I sourced a good deal on other catacombs around Europe. These loculi were meant for most of the general Christian population. Richer families could afford cubicula- think of them more like an underground mausoleum or like a little room all to themselves. The more extravagant ones were reserved for bishops and martyrs. Even some saints. Those were called arcosolia” Amanda explained, obviously enthralled by the subject, and was thus like a kid in a candy shop about where we had ended up.

I shined my light down at an almost unrecognizable shape on the lip inside of one of the loculi. I walked over to get a better look, and saw what looked like a little wood carving of a horse. I shined deeper inside of the recess, and saw the skeleton of a child, no more than 10 years old.

“Many buried their dead with some of their possessions. Usually with tools that denoted their occupation in life, like this one” she pointed out the one above it. There was a crude hammer lying next to the dusty old bones. “He was probably a carpenter, maybe a stone mason” she went on as if she were giving a lecture.

We traveled deeper into that monument for the dead. It twisted and turned, we ran into multiple dead ends, each one usually housing a more extravagant and intricately carved alcove housing a family's worth of skeletons. In the forefront of my mind, I wanted to turn back, and the deeper we went the stronger the feeling became. I’ve never been claustrophobic, but the narrowness of some of those hallways was enough to make me reconsider. I’ll freely admit, the only thing driving me forward was Amanda. I’d have followed her to the very center of the earth, despite the dread and fear that was creeping ever so closer and growing to unignorable proportions. I didn’t want her to think me a coward. I wish I would have spoken up. I wish I could go back and drag all of us out of that sepulchre of the dead, even if it did hurt my chances with her.

We were going ever deeper, and though there weren’t many twists or turns that didn’t stop in dead ends, the path back would be arduous.

We had just entered into a large room, by far the largest yet. The ceiling had to be at least 30 feet above us. Shining our lights upward, we were greeted with a series of gothic style arches, carved in black rock. They looked so out of place with the surrounding rock that they had been placed around as supports. They were carved from what we first believed to be onyx, though I’d never seen onyx so black before. I swear, they absorbed all light, not even casting the reflections of our slowly dwindling lights from our phones. My battery was getting low, and we had been down there so long, all of us using our phones' flashlights to illuminate our way, the others had to be in similar shape.

“Oh my god!” Amanda gasped. “We’re in some kind of underground cathedral, see the alter, over there?”

Then I heard it. It was ever so faint, but sounded like the rustling of heavy linked chains. I pointed it out to the others, but they swore I was just hearing things. Julie was the only one beside me that agreed when I suggested that we turn back. Marcus and Amanda both were having far too good a time in this pit, surrounded by corpses. I pleaded with them, their opinions of me be damned, it was time to go.

“Don’t be such a chickenshit, Frankie. Just a little further, then we’ll turn back-” Marcus was saying, the whole while Julie was tugging at his sleeve.

“M-Marcus… what the fuck is that over there?!” she pleaded, her tone of voice seeping with fright.

We all stopped and looked to an alcove behind the stone altar at the back of the chapel. There was another roughly cut stone doorway behind it that led further into the darkness. The doorway itself wasn’t much different than the dozens we had already passed through on our underground journey thus far. What made this one stand out from the others were the dark smears around it. What looked like bloody handprints stained its edge. Handprints that looked as if they were grasping the edge of the stone, a vain attempt to fight whatever had wanted to drag them deeper into the inky blackness beyond.

“Holy shit…” Marcus whispered, showing the first signs of fear since we had left the world of the living up above. “I think it’s time to leave now.”

“I don’t think that’s an option anymore” A voice boomed into the chamber, followed by the loud slamming of metal on stone.

We all turned toward the source of the voice, back toward the way we had come in. Our lights illuminated a large iron portcullis, barring the entrance. On the other side stood Father Antonio, a solemn look upon his face.

“I truly am sorry, my children. Don’t think that this doesn’t weigh heavily upon me. It always does…” he said, a look of disappointment filling his eyes.

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK? Let us out of here!” Marcus yelled, irate at the servant of God. “You’re locking us in?”

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way. The truth is, I trusted you all to leave. I gave you a choice, whether you realized it at the time or not” he stated, sadness seeping into his voice. He looked downward, unable to meet our eyes. “They always make the wrong choice…”

The sound of the chains came slowly rattling from behind us, unmistakable this time. They came as if following footsteps, approaching slowly and growing louder with every clank.

“What are you talking about? Come on, Father, let us out! We’re- we’re sorry, okay!?” Julie said, pleading as tears welled up in her eyes.

“No, my child. I’M sorry.”

“What is that noise? What’s in that other room?” Amanda asked, probably the calmest out of all of us about how this situation was developing.

Father Antonio made the sign of the cross, and kissed the crucifix that he wore around his neck. There were tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you recall me saying that God has the ultimate sense of humor?” he asked, his voice cracking toward the last. “Meet Pope Pius V. Before his tragic ‘death’, he was bitten by a creature. A spawn of Hell…”

“Yo, what in the hell are you talking about? Quit fucking with us and let us out! Call the police and have us arrested for trespassing, we’re sorry, okay!? Just let us out!” Marcus pleaded.

It was too late though. The creature that was once Pius V, leader of Christ’s Kingdom here on earth, was upon us.

The rest happened fast, Julie screamed a blood curdling screech, and her phone dropped to the stone, its light illuminating the black pillars above. The sounds of wet crunching silenced her mid-cry.

Marcus hadn’t even had time to yell before he was swatted against the far wall, producing a bone crushing thwack. It was upon him in an instant.

Amanda, looking up into my eyes, seemed resigned to our fate, and chose to spend her last moments on this earth looking up at me. Her hand, grasping mine tightly, spasmed as in an instant she was no longer standing before me. I felt something wet and warm splatter on my face. All I could do was stand there, not even realizing that the spasming grasp of Amanda’s severed hand was still in my grasp.

I had loved her. I realize that now. She was made by God for me, and I for her.

I continued to stand there in shock, waiting for the proverbial executioner’s ax to drop and end my wretched existence. It never did.

I had gone into shock, either that or my mind decided to shut down in a vain attempt to protect my sanity. The next thing I remember, I was sitting across from Father Antonio. We were in his office, and he had been speaking.

“.........spares the faithful. He was able to sense that about you. You, my child, are special. God has chosen you.”

“Why?” was the only thing I could muster the strength to say- not so much inquiring into what he had just said as much as I was questioning how a loving God could let such a horrible thing happen, could take Amanda from me just as we were beginning our journey into each other's hearts. Why her, and not me instead? Why? Why? WHY?!

I think Father Antonio understood the deeper connotation of my question. Instead of answering with “God works in mysterious ways” or any of those other cliche platitudes, he merely reached over and took my hand, gently, like a parent would. “We all have a purpose, my child. Even Pius down there serves a higher purpose, a reason for his existence. Heaven comes calling, and this time it’s calling for you. Ours isn’t to question His reason, it is to serve His will. Believe me when I say war isn’t just coming. It’s already upon us…”

He sat with me all throughout the night and we talked about many things. He divulged to me many dark secrets of the church, secrets that have been hidden in plain sight throughout its storied past. They used to feed Protestants to that thing, back in the time of Martin Luther’s Reformation. Defectors from the church who attempted to join the dark forces massing in the background. Because Pius refuses to kill those chosen by God, and people that God has determined to have a “Higher Purpose”, the church uses him as a sort of litmus test. In fact, every man of the cloth in the Vatican once stood before Pope Pius V, and those he deemed unworthy were slaughtered. It ensures that all those who attain high rank within the church are chosen by God himself… vetted by a demon. He was God’s demon, though. God really does have a sense of humor, I thought, looking up into the portrait Father Antonio had of Pius V on his office wall.

I had so many revelations dropped into my lap that night. Life altering tidbits of knowledge about the true battle between Good and Evil, the true nature of Heaven and Hell and where our universe fits into it. I knew what I had to do. I had lost my friends, my possible future with Amanda, my whole world had been turned upside down, but the enemy of God would do far worse. They wouldn’t stop until it was all consumed. Turned to ash in the blink of an eye just to prove a point to God. To them, we were merely cannon fodder.

That night, I found MY reason for existence. I look back on it now not only with sorrow, but with purpose. It was the day the veil was lifted from my eyes, and I hated what I saw. I saw the truth. By their logic, God chose me. I’m meant for a higher purpose, meant to do God’s will. I question the sanity of such a God, of his twisted intent. The only way I can rationalize it, any of this, is that he must be suicidal, because I intend to burn it all down.