Platinum Christ

The street was empty.

The cool, damp morning promised a typical autumn day.

The walls of the Church of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul at the intersection of Emilii Plater and Wspólna Streets in Warsaw were shrouded in thick fog.

Maciej parked his Taurus right next to the church, but he didn't turn off the engine or turn off the lights. The radio was broadcasting the three-day weather forecast. Then Metallica played "Nothing Else Matters," which Maciej listened to wearily, yawning intermittently.

He saw the priest exiting the massive church doors. With a smile on his face, the priest approached the pale green Vectra parked nearby, then got into his car and drove away with a screech of tires, heading toward Marszałkowska Street.

A very obese man stood nearby. He was talking on a cell phone, ostentatiously scratching his butt. A moment later, an old van with only one working headlight pulled up, and the fat man awkwardly sat down next to the driver, still carrying on a phone conversation.

A moment later, the street was empty again.

The fog had almost vanished, and rain began to drizzle from the heavy, gray clouds.

Maciej turned on the windshield wipers and, watching them silently as they worked, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He lit it, took a deep drag, and then exhaled it through his nostrils. He rolled down the side window completely and began searching for a radio station that played the morning news. He was tired of the rock ballads and techno hits that were slowly driving him crazy. Unfortunately, he had to settle for them for the moment, as the news programs had recently ended. And the political programs he was so interested in weren't broadcast until afternoon.

Resigned, he decided to turn off the radio, and silence reigned in the car, broken only by the softly running engine.

He glanced at the church door. He finished his cigarette and threw the butt out the window.

He waited.

He couldn't see anything.

There was a loud bang, and then someone burst out laughing. Three or four men stood over him, muttering incomprehensibly. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't, as if his eyelids had suddenly fused together. He was cold, and he felt something crawling on him.

A worm.

It had to be a worm.

A whole host of slimy, wriggling worms.

After a moment, pain shot through his wrist. He wanted to scream, but couldn't open his mouth. He began kicking violently, but his movement was severely limited. He was lying on his back in a crate. There were walls on either side.

Suddenly, he clenched his fists and felt something slippery crushed within them, which immediately burst. The sticky goo began to run down his wrists, all the way to his elbows. The men laughed loudly again. One of them shouted,

"Look, the dead man's moving!"

The second voice replied almost immediately:

"He's dead, believe me. The guy's deaf as a post, blind as a mole, and stiff as my dick!"

Another burst of laughter and voices Maciej couldn't understand. And again there was a bang, as if someone had struck the plywood with all their might with a hard, flat object.

He stubbornly tried to get out of the room where he lay, but every time he tried to stand up, he always felt the painful bites of worms crawling across his face and neck. They entered through the collar of his shirt and bit his chest, stomach, and genitals.

Suddenly, I managed to open my eyes. The sun immediately blinded his pupils. He saw the lid of the coffin, which was just closing over him. He screamed. Men with shovels in their hands bared their yellowed teeth at him with ominous smiles. He tried to climb out of the coffin. He rose, but almost at the same moment, one of the grave diggers kicked him in the ribs. Maciej fell onto his back amidst the black, writhing, hungry worms.

"That corpse is actually moving!" someone shouted, and then the coffin lid slammed shut.

He woke up screaming at the top of his lungs,

"No!"

He was in his car.

He turned off the engine and closed his eyes for a moment. He felt relief. He was sweating, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, and for a moment he couldn't catch his breath, as if he'd just finished a marathon.

He glanced at his watch, which read 8:42. He'd slept for over an hour. Far too long. He hoped he hadn't missed anything. The church doors were still closed, no one was coming in or out. The rain had stopped, a car drove by every now and then, and people were hurrying to work or school, holding their children's hands, on the sidewalk.

Maciej glanced at his gold Rolex again and grimaced. He wondered why he, of all people, had to sit in the car now, having no idea what he was waiting for or how much longer he would spend in it. He was dazed and nervous. He only hoped he wouldn't regret taking this job. It paid incredibly well, like no other job he'd ever had. In two months, he'd acquired a Taurus, a lakeside cottage, a gold Rolex. He was living the high life.

Now he waited.

But no one was leaving the church. Maciej had received clear instructions to stop the car at the Church of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul at seven in the morning, and that's exactly what he did.

He had to wait, and he had waited. And he would wait until someone gave him a signal and told him what to do. He decided to sit in the car a little longer, smoke a few cigarettes, finally listen to the news on the radio, and then... Then he'd see.

He stretched lazily in his seat and yawned. He turned on the radio and heard the low voice of the announcer, who was talking with great excitement about a serious accident on Aleje Jerozolimskie: "A red Ford Scorpio collided with a Peugeot 605. The driver of the Ford drove through the intersection against a red light and plowed into the side of the Peugeot at over seventy kilometers per hour. If it weren't for the airbag, it would have ended tragically for him. The Peugeot driver was much less fortunate, dying instantly. The two passengers of the red Scorpio were taken to hospital in serious condition, but their health is no longer in danger. This accident is another example of reckless, irresponsible driving. This is the third fatal accident on Aleje Jerozolimskie in the last few days. We appeal for more careful driving and move on to the weather forecast, which he will discuss..."

Maciej changed the station. He had heard enough about the weather today. When he heard The Foreigner's song "I Wanna Know What Love Is," he turned up the volume. The song always put him in a melancholic mood and made him think about his marriage, which had fallen apart about four years ago. He remembered the moment he'd come home early from work to find his wife in their apartment fucking the twenty-two-year-old son of their dentist. Instead of flying into a rage, he laughed heartily and calmly told his wife, "You have twenty-four hours to get out of my house."

Then he left, got in his car, and spent the entire night with two prostitutes living somewhere in Żoliborz.

Now he thought about how stupid and gullible he'd been back then. She'd been cheating on him all the time, going out in the evenings, claiming she had English lessons, only to return at night and go to bed. He always smelled of alcohol on her breath. He endured it all because he hoped it would end someday. He suspected she was cheating on him, but what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve.

Until he caught her.

He turned off the radio.

A bald man in a cream sweater and sports jacket had just entered the church. Maciej heard the brass door slam loudly, and then silence fell.

"What's taking so long?" he muttered under his breath and lit a cigarette. He glanced at his cell phone screen. He hadn't received any messages, so he put it back in his pants pocket. That was the first time he thought something might not have gone as planned. He'd waited too long. His phone had been silent for too long. He cursed.

He decided that if the situation didn't improve in the next fifteen minutes, he'd go check on what had happened. Meanwhile, he inhaled his cigarette and glanced at his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. It read a quarter past nine. The street had already become very busy and noisy. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, reminding Maciej of a dream about lying in a coffin among worms. It had stung his eyes just as much then as it did now. He squinted and searched for a pair of sunglasses, but the glove compartment contained only McDonald's receipts, a road map, a pen, and half a bottle of stale Coca-Cola. He

closed the glove compartment and sourly wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was incredibly bored with the constant slogging in the car and thought he'd take a short walk and stretch his legs. Besides, he was getting hungry. Maybe he could buy a bottle of mineral water, a sandwich, and a Snickers bar on the way.

He was just about to open the door to get out when he heard his phone ring. He quickly pulled out the phone and put it to his ear. It was his boss calling, and he was very impatient that he hadn't seen him at his building yet.

"I don't know what's going on, boss," he said calmly, after listening to the lengthy litany about himself. "They're not here yet. I was supposed to arrive at seven, and it's already ten.

" "What do you mean they're not here? Call and ask what's taking so long!" the boss shouted. He was clearly furious. "

I'll do it right away. Actually, I thought they'd let me know when it was all over. But they haven't called yet.

" "You're thinking too much, damn it! I'll call them myself.

" "Boss, it's really not my fault they're not here yet," he tried to explain. "I was supposed to be here at seven

, and I was." "I'll be the judge of when it's your fault and when it isn't." I want to see that platinum Christ on my desk, and you better hurry, because I can't guarantee anything.

"I'll do my best

." "I hope so."

Maciej wanted to say something else, but the other person hung up.

"Where the hell are Dominik and Jakub?" he thought anxiously. He was sure he hadn't mistaken the time he was supposed to be at the church. They were the ones who screwed up, not him. Nervously, he placed his phone on the passenger seat and lit another cigarette.

A few months ago, the church had acquired a Christ statue made of platinum and white gold, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

His task was simple: drive to the church and wait for Dominik and Jakub, who were supposed to steal the statuette from the sacristy. Then they were to drive straight to the apartment of Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty, their boss.

Maciej remembered his words when the entire burglary plan was already in place:

"Don't ask me any questions, just bring me this Christ. You'll each get five thousand dollars for completing the task."

That was all that mattered. Where else would he earn five thousand, and even a few pennies at that?

The answer was simple: nowhere.

The job was supposed to be easy, and the rewards enormous.

But something must have gone wrong. They still weren't there. They didn't show up, they didn't even ring his phone.

He was still sitting in his car, increasingly nervous, tense, impatient, and hungry.

Then he heard police sirens, and a moment later he saw three police cars turning from Wspólna Street onto the corner of Wspólna and Emilii Plater Streets. They stopped just a dozen meters from his Taurus, one after the other. The sirens faded, but the flashing lights on the roofs of the police Volkswagens remained on.

Maciej thought he was finished, his career in making quick and dirty money over. They would probably approach him soon and order him out. Then they'll handcuff him and take him to the police station.

Two police officers emerged from the first patrol car and immediately headed for the church entrance. They shouted something, but Maciej couldn't quite hear what they were saying. He saw two more cops get out of the second police Volkswagen. They also ran to the church and hurried inside.

Maciej heard the loud siren again. A moment later, an ambulance pulled onto the sidewalk and parked right in front of the heavy church doors. Two doctors jumped out; one was tall and thin as a rail, with close-cropped hair, the other slightly shorter, more solidly built, with dark hair slicked back with gel. They ran into the church as if some naked model were waiting for them, ready to fulfill their wildest fantasies.

So he was safe. They weren't after him.

"Something must have happened to Jakub and Dominik," he thought, starting the Taurus and driving a short distance away so as not to be too conspicuous to the police officers who were just running out of the church. He parked under a tree next to a beat-up silver Camaro with tinted windows.

He heard his phone ringing. He glanced at the display. It was the boss again.

"Yes?" he grumbled uncertainly.

"I tried calling them, but the idiots aren't answering. I'm really furious.

" "Boss, I think we have problems," Maciej mentioned the police cars and an ambulance.

"Cops and an ambulance?" Spindle-tailed asked, surprised. "What the fuck is going on there? You've been sitting in that damn car since seven and you don't know anything?

" "No. Something must have happened at the church, because the street has been quiet since morning. I have no idea what could have happened. Should I try to find out?"

"You should have done it at least an hour and a half ago!" Bartłomiej growled. "I pay you big bucks and I expect a solid job! And you just blew it.

" "Okay, I'll go and ask what's going on there.

" "As soon as you know anything, you have to call me!

" "Yes, boss, I'll let you know right away," Maciej promised, frowning slightly and anxiously eyeing the church.

He turned off his Nokia 3410 and put it in his jacket pocket. He wanted to light up, but saw that there was not a single cigarette left in the pack. He cursed violently and climbed out of the car.

A crowd of curious onlookers had formed under the heavy, iron-plated gates, eagerly and intently waiting for the answer to their burning question: what happened in the church?"

Maciej stood behind a broad-shouldered man in a denim jacket. He wanted to listen to what people were talking about, but he learned nothing interesting. Everyone was guessing. An elderly woman kept repeating that it was probably a group of Satanists who had attacked the parish priest. Her theory amused the crowd. Another man suspected a burglary, and that one of the priests had been injured. Someone else claimed a murder.

Maciej pushed through the crowd and stopped dead near one of the police cars. He saw two paramedics exiting the church. They were carrying a stretcher on which Dominik lay. He had cuts on his forehead and chin. His right eye was swollen, and blood was leaking from his nose. His hair was matted and his clothes were stained. The paramedics quickly folded the stretcher and placed the injured man in the car. One of the paramedics closed the door and ordered everyone to move away from the car. The crowd immediately retreated a few steps, and a moment later, a loud siren sounded, and the ambulance drove away.

Maciej's heart was beating so fast and loudly that he thought everyone could hear it. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. He'd already suspected something bad must have happened, and now he had proof.

But what had happened in the church? The only thing he was certain of was that his buddies had gotten themselves into something nasty. Besides, he still had no idea where the hell Jakub was? He'd probably stayed in the sacristy. Unless he'd managed to escape. But then he'd surely have called his cell phone…

Maciej was about to call Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty when he heard one of the policemen's voice:

"That guy's in pieces. It's like someone ran over him with a damn combine harvester."

The other officer leaned awkwardly against the hood of the police car and sighed loudly. Then he nodded.

"We need to take care of him," he said slurredly, as if the words were stuck in his throat. "Tell the guys to do what needs to be done."

Maciej couldn't get a word out. He wanted to ask the officer what had happened, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. He guessed that "that guy," as one of the officers had called him, was Jakub. He was dead. Definitely dead. There, in the church, some terrible, bloody mess had taken place, and Maciej didn't know what to do next. He reached into his pocket for his phone, stepped aside, and dialed his boss's number. He connected immediately.

"What's up?" he heard a gruff question.

"We have problems," he replied. "Dominik was just taken to the hospital. I still don't know what happened to Jakub. But I suspect he's dead.

" "What?" the boss snapped in disbelief. "What do you mean, he's dead? What the hell are you talking about?

" "Boss, I saw Dominik when they carried him out on a stretcher. He was terribly injured, covered in blood."

Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty was silent for a moment.

"Can you tell me exactly what happened there?" he muttered, a little more quietly.

"I can ask the cops, but I'm not sure I'll learn anything," Maciej replied uncertainly. "I'm not a member of his family. Besides, I don't know if the police suspect anything. If they know something, they can arrest me. I'd rather be careful.

" "I understand," Wrzecionowaty muttered. Maciej heard a deep sigh as the man tried to regain his composure enough to think calmly. "Okay, come see me. We'll think about what to do next. I think they'll inform Dominik's wife about this incident, and soon. We'll go to her... Damn it, why do you think Jakub is dead?" The chief's voice was quiet and calm. He could hear his concern and worry. The anger suddenly subsided.

"One of the officers said the other man was cut to pieces." "Maciej replied with difficulty, because the very act of saying this made him painfully aware of the reality of such a possibility. "And I think it's Jakub. Otherwise, he would have called us.

" "Yes, I think you're right." Bartłomiej spoke slowly, as if considering, and his voice was much more composed. Maciej realized that his boss had most likely managed to digest the initial shock of the failed operation and its tragic consequences. Now he was making a decision calmly and calmly. "Okay, listen, get out of there and come to me. Then we'll check on Dominik's wife and find out which hospital he's in. And what condition he's in. I need to talk to him.

" "I understand. But from what I saw, he's not doing well. His whole face was horribly cut up." Maciej nervously rubbed his forehead with his hand, as if trying to erase the image from his mind. He cursed quietly. "Damn it! Boss, who could have done something like that to them?" Dominik looked as if…

"I don't know, damn it!" Bartłomiej interrupted coldly. "Damn it! It was all perfectly planned! I don't understand how anything could have happened to them?! They both had weapons! Who would have the courage to attack two armed men?"

Maciej didn't answer.

He didn't know the answers to any of the questions, and that only made him more upset. He liked Jakub, despite his arrogance and impulsiveness. He remembered how they'd once gone hunting together and then to a pub to talk about life. They'd learned a few things about each other. They'd even become friends. It was the same with Dominik. They'd often go to the nearest pub for a beer in the evenings. They'd play pool and chat until the tired bartender told them to leave.

They also had this in common: they both desperately needed money.

Jakub had been paying a lot of alimony for four years, and Dominik was deeply in debt. That's

why they were following Wrzecionowaty's orders.

" "I don't understand it either." "I don't know who did this to them, but they'll pay for it!" Spindle- tailed

Wrzecionowaty replied with cold anger. "Fuck! It's unbelievable! Who could have taken out two armed men?!

Maciej walked to the car and opened the door.

"Boss, I'll be with you in a moment." He got into the Taurus and started the engine. He glanced in the mirror, put it in reverse, and backed out.

"Okay. I'll wait," Bartłomiej said, and hung up.

Maciej pocketed the phone, gently nudged the gear shift, and shifted into first gear. He looked at the church walls once more. An icy chill ran down his spine. The man shivered.

Three police cars were still parked one behind the other next to the church gate.

Alarmed, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and drove off gently, not even glancing in the rearview mirror. The crowd of onlookers slowly began to disperse.

It was after 6 p.m. when Maciej and Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty left the Sroński tenement building on Nowy Świat Street and drove to Grochowski Hospital on Grenadierów Street. There, in the surgical ward, Dominik Kaczorkowski lay. It turned out he had broken arms, a concussion, and numerous injuries to his internal organs. He was in a four-person room, connected to an IV drip. His life wasn't in danger, but he faced a long rehabilitation period, after which he should regain physical mobility.

Now he lay in bandages, with both legs in casts, snoring softly. His wife, Paulina, sat beside him, gently massaging her husband's scratched hand.

"Nobody knows how it happened," she said quietly. "The other man is dead."

Maciej placed his hand on her shoulder and replied in a whisper,

"We don't know either. We're waiting for Dominik to explain something to us."

"He won't say anything," Paulina said sharply. "The only thing he managed to say was that he was leaving you. Nothing more."

Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty stood almost at attention by the bed, slowly chewing a piece of gum. His dark complexion, black hair, and slender figure made him look significantly younger than his forty-five years. Thirty, thirty-five at most. His deep-set eyes seemed to penetrate the walls, and his impressive height commanded respect from everyone. The man wore a black Armani suit, and the scent of Hugo Boss perfume wafted around him. His permanently pursed lips gave the impression he wanted to kill everyone. He kept people at a distance, but those who knew him better knew he was a good friend and could be trusted, especially since he had his own principles, which he strictly adhered to. And the tasks he assigned to his employees had to be completed perfectly. But it was precisely because of this that none of his men had ever been caught stealing. Bartłomiej was a good planner and paid well. He wasn't a murderer or a rapist, but he loved money and knew how to get it quickly and easily. He didn't call himself or his men mafia. He also had no criminal record. He lived in the center of Warsaw, drove a Land Rover, had a wife who worked in a hair salon, and had three children.

Now he slowly approached Paulina and gently brushed his fingers against her arm.

"We'd like to talk to him when he wakes up," he said gently. He smiled faintly at the grieving woman. "If, of course, that's possible.

" "I'll tell him you were there," she muttered. She lifted her head and looked at the man, reluctantly averting her gaze from the wounded man's face.

"If you don't mind, we'll wait here," Spindle said thoughtfully. "I'd really like to know what happened there." He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked to the window.

"Something strange happened in the sacristy that we don't know about." "Maciej added uncertainly. He bowed his head slightly, avoiding meeting the woman's tearful eyes. "We don't want your husband to get into trouble because of this. We don't want any either. But we need to talk to him to find out what happened there. And what Dominik plans to tell the police." He added more quietly than he intended, embarrassed by the awkward sound of his words.

"Don't be afraid," Paulina hissed angrily. "He won't rat you out, I'm sure of that."

Maciej shifted uneasily, knowing that in the current situation, what he had said was a serious blunder. But Dominik's wife's words also brought him great relief.

He knew Kaczorkowski.

Theoretically, he knew he could rest assured that his friend wouldn't rat anyone out if he got into trouble.

But he had to be sure.

"We hope he recovers quickly," Spindle-shaped said gently, pulling a fresh stick of Orbit mint gum from his pants pocket.

Just then, the doctor entered the room. In his white clogs, he was almost as tall as the six-foot-five Bartłomiej. He nodded in greeting and approached the injured man's bed.

"Still asleep?" he asked. He checked the status of the IV drip. He nodded in satisfaction. Then he smiled faintly at Paulina. "Fine. Let him sleep. The more he rests, the better for him."

The doctor exchanged a friendly glance with another patient who had just woken up, then headed for the exit door. Maciej followed him, and a moment later they were both in the hospital corridor.

"Excuse me, Doctor," he said, slightly raising his hand. "I'd like to know how serious Dominik's condition is?"

The doctor looked at him for a moment, saying nothing.

"The situation doesn't look too bad right now," he said dryly. "And who are you to the patient?

" "A friend." "Maciej replied truthfully. "I wanted to know what happened in the church to make him end up in the hospital in such a state.

" "Sir, to be honest, I'd like to know that myself." The doctor sighed heavily. "Your friend was brought here with a concussion, numerous fractures, and it's not certain he'll walk again because his cervical spine is severely damaged. You've probably heard of the man who was with him in the church during that incident?

" "Yes." Maciej nodded. "As far as I know, he's dead.

" "That's true," the doctor replied, frowning slightly as if remembering something awful. "But that's a huge understatement.

" "What do you mean?

" "That I've never seen such a horribly mutilated corpse before." The doctor shook his head thoughtfully, then took a deep breath and began speaking, as if trying to clear away the memories that were troubling him. "The body looked like a scattered puzzle that some madman was trying to put back together. Jesus, I don't know. This whole thing is very strange." What's more, the police are constantly hanging around here. They're constantly bothering the hospital staff, questioning everyone, especially the doctor and nurses who were at the crime scene. Me too, because your colleague just happened to be on my shift. I don't have a moment's peace, but I'm trying to understand them, because they're trying to solve this case and find this degenerate murderer. Especially since the other man, one Jakub Razmus, was practically torn to pieces, and no one knows who did it.

"Yes, I heard about it," Maciej muttered with difficulty.

"Excuse me..." The doctor glanced at his watch and shook his head in dissatisfaction. "I have to go now."

"Thank you very much for the conversation, Doctor." Maciej smiled gratefully and returned to the room, where Dominik was still asleep. His wife was trying to concentrate on reading a women's magazine, and Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty was pacing the room like a slightly impatient cat.

Visiting hours ended, and Maciej and Bartłomiej were forced to leave the hospital. Dominik's wife received special permission to stay with him for the next two hours.

As they drove along Aleje Niepodległości, Wrzecionowaty didn't say a word.

Maciej, tired and ravenous as a wolf, tried to doze off, but the hustle and bustle of the streets effectively prevented him from doing so.

They finally reached the tenement building where Wrzecionowaty lived, and Maciej looked around at his Taurus, which he had left there before they went to the hospital.

"We'll check on him first thing tomorrow morning," Bartłomiej decided, without even asking the employee if he had any plans for the next day. "Unless he calls first.

" "Okay, boss," Maciej agreed. "Good night."

He got out of the black Land Rover and ran across the street to his car.

A few minutes later, he parked the car on Koszykowa Street, near the gate of the four-story tenement building where he lived.

While still on the stairwell, he heard the ringing of his landline phone. He ran the last few meters, quickly unlocked it, and went inside. He slammed the door behind him, almost simultaneously reaching for the receiver.

"Hello?

" "Are you alone?" It was Dominik. His voice was hoarse and very indistinct.

"Dominik! How are you? Man, you have no idea how glad I am to hear you calling," he said, taking off his jacket. He leaned forward and hooked it on a standing wooden coat rack.

"Listen to me carefully! Spindly guy will probably want that Christ statuette at all costs. You know him as well as I do; you know he won't let go. Dominik spoke quickly, clearly very nervous and anxious. What's more, there was some interference on the line, and the bandages on his injured face made his words very slurred, and Maciej had to listen carefully. "Remember, don't agree to any job that has anything to do with this damn church!

" "Dominik, calm down!" Maciej frowned slightly. He tried to speak calmly, even though the phone call had unsettled him. "What the hell are you talking about?

" "About what happened to me and Jakub. Over there, in the sacristy. You saw what I looked like after that damn job!"

Maciej leaned against one of the two large mahogany armoires he'd bought at an antique shop about a month ago. He'd only paid two hundred złoty for both. He knew perfectly well he wouldn't have been able to find any mahogany furniture anywhere for that price. But he'd been lucky, because he'd happened to stumble upon a sale at the time. And now he was truly glad they were standing in the hallway of his apartment.

"What happened there?" he asked, trying to remain calm. "What happened in the church? Who attacked you there?"

There was a moment of silence, during which Dominik spoke to his wife, then Maciej heard his voice again.

"It's that figurine, man, it's that platinum Christ."

Maciej was stunned.

"Excuse me?" He pressed the receiver closer to his ear. He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly, but it seemed to him that his friend had said… "What do you mean, platinum Christ?

" "He's responsible for what happened in the sacristy. Only him. Damn it, man, there was no one else there." The wounded man's voice trembled, as if the speaker was unable to contain his fear.

Maciej couldn't believe his ears.

"Dominik, the doctor said they brought you in with symptoms of a concussion. Maybe you imagined—" he began cautiously, not wanting to upset his friend, but the man interrupted.

"I'm talking like a complete lunatic, I know that. But I'm telling the truth! I know what I saw! It wasn't a hallucination! That thing killed Jakub! It threw him around the sacristy, then ripped out all his intestines until he died howling in pain! That thing possesses unimaginable strength! Some damned power that nothing can resist!

Suddenly, the alarm clock in Maciej's room began to ring.

"The damn thing never rings when it has to," he thought, dissatisfied. He looked away from the clock.

"Listen, you know this sounds completely absurd," he said in a calm, compassionate tone. "Dominik, think about how a figurine could cause such a massacre?"

Maciej shifted restlessly from foot to foot, as if unable to find his place. What he'd just heard sounded like some crazy vision from a completely stoned drug addict! Absolute nonsense! Such things don't happen! It's absolutely impossible. Irrational. He cursed silently, but stopped arguing, not wanting to worsen his wound. Dominik had clearly been harmed by the blow to the head.

Maciej shook his head sympathetically.

He didn't know what had happened in the church, but damn it, a small, platinum statuette couldn't have caused a bloodbath.

"I don't care if you believe me now." Dominik's voice was much calmer now. "But leave this matter alone. And tell the other guys to drop it. Stay away from this damn church!"

Dominik let out a terrible, dry cough, like a consumptive, then swallowed hard.

"It's a miracle I survived. And I truly thank God for that."

Maciej was speechless. He had no idea what to say at that moment. He remembered that the doctor had also mentioned Dominik's concussion. Now he concluded that such a severe injury could result in a detachment from reality, some unreal visions connected to the faulty statuette. And this raving about its incredible power.

But what if Dominik was telling the truth?

Maciej found it hard to believe, but something deep inside told him that perhaps his friend wasn't making it up. He was afraid that everything he had said had actually happened there.

In the quiet, incense-scented sacristy of the Church of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul.

He was terrified. His mind was completely muddled and he didn't know what to say.

"How are you feeling?" he asked uncertainly, trying to drown out the chaos raging in his head with words.

"I'm fine at the moment," Dominik replied calmly. "My back hurts a bit, and so do these damn legs. They itch so badly I'm slowly losing my mind. There's no way to scratch them."

Maciej smiled unconsciously.

"Your wife said you want to quit your job?" he said, becoming absolutely serious.

"Yes, I've had enough of this life, I learned quite a lesson today.

" "Sigh," Maciej sighed, looking for cigarettes. He saw a red and white pack of Marlboros lying on one of the wardrobe shelves. He reached for one, lit one, and inhaled the smoke with pleasure.

"What does Spindle Man say to that?" Dominik wanted to know.

"He didn't say anything." Maciej smiled slightly. "He probably thought you said that because you were nervous and in shock. And when you get back on your feet, you'll change your mind. "

He heard a quiet, ironic laugh.

"Let him forget it," he muttered, wounded. "I won't come back.

" "I don't blame you at all." "Actually, for a while now, I've been thinking about giving up on all this and getting you some real work."

Dominik didn't say anything for a moment, probably trying to get to the spot on his casted leg that itched the most. After a moment, he announced that he needed to rest:

"I'm damn weak," he explained. "I'll try to call you tomorrow.

" "Rest, man." Maciej looked around for an ashtray. "And get well soon.

" "Thanks. See you later. And take care of yourself."

Maciej slowly hung up the phone and went to the small kitchen. He opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of Pepsi and searched for a clean glass, but couldn't find one. In the meantime, he stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray and opened the bottle. He took a few sips and screwed the cap back on.

He was hungry. He thought about ordering a pizza, but the thought of having to wait another half hour for it to arrive made his stomach clench. Desperate, he pulled some yellow cheese from the fridge and made himself some sandwiches. Then he opened a bottle of Carlsberg and went to his room. He turned on the TV. They were showing a league match, so he settled into an armchair and poured some beer down his throat.

Less than twenty minutes later, Maciej was asleep, his head slumped against the soft backrest.

He also didn't hear the news broadcast during halftime:

"...the police are helpless. And so far, there's no clue. Everything points to murder. However, we won't know the truth until tomorrow, after the police talk to the man who managed to survive the massacre at the Church of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul. The doctors refused to discuss the matter earlier because the patient was in deep shock. They believed the additional stress could adversely affect his health...

" Four months later.

"What are you crazy? This fucking figurine is a goldmine!" Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty shouted, waving both arms as if swatting away persistent flies. "You know perfectly well how much it's worth! This is a fantastic opportunity to make a killing! Hundreds of thousands of złoty are at stake! Have you lost your minds? This job might never come around again!"

Six people sat with Maciej in a spacious room with a black ceiling and dark gray walls. Six burly men in black suits. Each of them was silent as a grave. One was chewing gum, another was fiddling with the laces of his shoes, and the third seemed to be completely oblivious to his boss's words.

The third was Maciej, who hadn't been involved in any fundraising activities since the unfortunate incident in the church.

Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty stood in front of the table where his employees were sitting.

He looked like a demon. He was furious, his temples throbbing as if someone had placed beating hearts beneath his skin.

"What the hell happened to you? Did one accident make you weak? What do you think you're doing? Do you believe in some fairy tales about monsters? No damn monster killed Jakub! Remember that! An accident happened, but it's high time we stopped worrying about it! I'm going to get that platinum Christ, and I will! So I ask you one last time: do you want to make a killing off this operation?"

He expected enthusiastic applause, but he was disappointed. Because after his words, a deafening silence fell. No one spoke.

Maciej reached up to his neck and unbuttoned his shirt button, because it suddenly began to pinch him.

He, too, remained silent.

Meanwhile, Bartłomiej stared at his men in disbelief. He frowned, trying to control his anger and disappointment. He took a deep breath.

"Fine, I'll handle this myself. I see I can't count on you. I thought we were a group. That we all cared about the same thing. I never got you into any trouble! You had everything you could dream of. Thanks to me, you're living in luxury. And now, to put it simply, you've betrayed me. It turns out I can't rely on you!

" "Boss..." a thin man in his forties spoke uncertainly. "It's not that we can't be counted on. We just don't want anything to do with the platinum Christ.

" "Bullshit!" Bartłomiej growled, growing increasingly furious. "What's wrong with you two? You're acting like kindergarten kids. This statue doesn't bite, believe me! It fucking doesn't bite!

" Spindle's sarcasm didn't amuse anyone.

The men continued to sit with a concentration worthy of a more important matter, and none of them spoke again.

"Then I'll offer you another option." Bartłomiej eyed them carefully. He had no intention of giving up. He cared too much about that damned figurine to let anyone thwart his elaborate plan. "I'll do it myself. But I need one volunteer to cover me while I break into the sacristy. Someone to keep an eye on everything and take me out when I leave the church."

No one responded to these words either. There were only quiet sighs and murmurs.

"Well, gentlemen." The spindly man walked over to the window. He was clearly struggling to control his rage and resentment. "Then I'll handle this without you. You're bloody cowards! I have nothing more to say to you. End of meeting.

Five months later.

Maciej knocked on Dominik's door, almost ostentatiously loudly. He didn't wait long, as Paulina opened the door almost immediately. Only now did he clearly see how beautiful she was. Her shoulder-length, auburn hair was held back with a brown clip, her lips were delicately painted with lip gloss, and she smelled of Chanel No. 5. She was a small, petite woman with a charming smile that almost knocked him off his feet. Dressed in a light green blouse and tight pants, she looked incredibly sexy. When she saw him, she smiled broadly, revealing her snow-white teeth.

"Come in. Dominik is still in the bathroom, but he should be joining us soon," she said politely, and after a moment, she added, telling him to make himself comfortable and feel at home.

Maciej handed her the red wine he'd bought at a shop near his house

. "Martini," she almost screamed, gazing with delight at the colorful label on the large, one-liter bottle. "Dominik told you I really like it?

" "He didn't tell me anything," Maciej replied, then smiled cheerfully. "I'm very glad he's recovered."

"Oh, you have no idea what a relief this is for me. Those constant exercises as part of his rehabilitation were terribly tiring. Sometimes I could tell he'd had enough, but he didn't give up.

" "A brave boy." Maciej nodded. "The important thing is that the worst is over.

" "You're right. Come in, make yourself comfortable, I'll make you some tea in a moment, or would you prefer coffee?" Paulina gave him another charming smile and disappeared into the kitchen. He obediently entered the small but exceptionally tastefully decorated room, dominated by light, pastel colors. He sat comfortably in a leather armchair.

"Coffee or tea?" Paulina asked from the kitchen.

"Coffee, absolutely," Maciej replied.

Just then, the man of the house entered the room, wearing a cream polo shirt and jeans. They greeted each other and then began a long conversation about what had happened in the church. They also talked about Dominik's rehabilitation and his departure from the Spindle Wrzecionowaty group.

"It's good to see you in such good shape," Maciej said, lighting a cigarette. "When I think back to what you looked like after that accident, it's making me sick. I remember I must have smoked a ton of cigarettes during those first few days you were in the hospital.

" "You smoke too much," Dominik replied with a wry smile. "Every time I see you, you have a cigarette stuck in your teeth. You should quit that crap."

"Someday, for sure," Maciej replied noncommittally, helping himself to a shortbread cookie. He dipped it in his coffee and popped it in his mouth.

"I'll be serving dinner soon, so don't eat too many sweets," Paulina interjected, bringing them white napkins and cutlery.

"I'll happily devour your culinary masterpieces in huge quantities as long as I live. It doesn't matter what happens or how many cookies I eat before dinner," Dominik joked, looking around for the TV remote. "Honey, where did you put our remote?" he asked after a moment.

"You're sitting on it." "Paulina replied quite seriously, carrying in the roasted chicken and placing it on the table in front of the men. "I prepared everything myself and I hope you'll like it.

" "It looks delicious," said Maciej, watching Paulina's slender hands slice a tomato into thin slices.

"I hope it tastes the same," she replied, trying to slice the vegetables as precisely as possible, which were to serve as decorations on the plates.

When Dominik finally managed to turn on the television, everyone immediately fell silent, as the regional news program was broadcasting. The presenter, dressed in a gray suit, spoke slowly and clearly:

"There's been another murder in the Church of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul. This morning, the mutilated body of a forty-five-year-old man was found in the sacristy. If it weren't for the ID card he was carrying, identifying the body would have been impossible. The perpetrator killed the victim in an extremely cruel manner, literally tearing him to pieces. The police are investigating the cause of the events. I should add that almost six months ago, a similar tragedy occurred in this church, and to this day, it's unclear what exactly happened there. As I said, the police are investigating the case..."

Dominik turned off the TV. He was as pale as a sheet, and his radiant smile vanished from his face.

"Spindly," he muttered, bowing his head. Then he looked at his friend. "He...

" "He went there alone," Maciej said in disbelief.

"It looks that way."

Maciej rose from the table and slowly walked to the window. He stared at the world outside for a long moment, then turned to the couple. A look of determination spread across his face.

"Dominik, I have a question for you." He looked uncertainly at the seated man. "Back then, in the church... Are you sure what happened was the work of the statuette?

" "Yes."

Paulina looked at him fearfully and closed her eyes, as if trying to shield herself from the next question that was bound to come.

"Do you think something can be done about it? Is there a chance to prevent another massacre?

" "I have no idea," Dominik replied. "But I know there's something in that statuette of Christ. Something very evil."

Maciej nodded. He was silent for a long moment, then began to speak slowly, clearly trying to arrange the facts in a logical order. As if that might help him decide what to do next.

"She killed Jakub, now Spindle, she almost killed you...

" "What are you up to?" Dominik interrupted.

"I don't know. But I think that something enchanted in the platinum Christ likes murder.

" "Then why doesn't it kill priests?" A whole bunch of them are praying to that damn statuette!" Kaczorkowski exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"Please..." Paulina interrupted, grabbing her husband's hand and almost forcing him to sit down at the table next to her. "Stop talking about it! It would be safest if you forgot about that church and the statuette altogether! You'll bring bad luck again! Honey, sit down. Maciej, will you join us?"

Maciej started to say something, but decided against it. He obediently sank into his chair. But the frown on his forehead clearly indicated that he hadn't stopped thinking about the sinister sculpture. With a slightly detached look, he grabbed a fork and speared a piece of cucumber.

"Priests," he muttered quietly to himself, as if analyzing his friend's words. Then he suddenly fixed a fiery gaze on Dominik. "Priests!" he repeated louder. "It doesn't touch them, because they're consecrated. They're like holy water for vampires, haven't you thought of that?

" "Please stop! Maciej, enough!" Paulina slammed her hand on the table. "I don't want to hear about this anymore! Not in my house."

They ate dinner in silence.

Then Maciej got up from the table and rather awkwardly announced that he had to go home. The atmosphere was sour anyway, so he decided he shouldn't try his hostess's patience. He couldn't stop thinking about the ill-fated figurine, and he didn't want to irritate Paulina, who was already staring at him with obvious dislike.

"I think it's time for me to go," he declared. "Thank you very much for the invitation. Dinner was truly delicious."

Before leaving, he glanced at Dominik and saw that his gaze was fixed on his. Clearly, they were both thinking the same thing. The murderous statuette of the platinum Christ haunted them. He nodded, but the host didn't react.

Only after a moment, as if snapped out of a trance, did he shake his hand and escort his friend to the stairwell.

As he closed the door behind him, he was still pondering what Maciej had said.

And he feared he was right.

At Dominik's request, they met at a small café on Koszykowa Street, near the tenement building where Maciej lived.

The day was overcast, and it rained intermittently.

Maciej took off his soaked jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before sitting at a table with a burning candle. Almost immediately, a beautiful young waitress with large, blue eyes appeared. He and Dominik both ordered cappuccinos. The waitress took their order and left, but returned less than ten minutes later. She placed the tray on the counter and removed two cups of steaming, aromatic beverage.

"Here you go," she said with exaggerated politeness, placing the dishes on a white napkin on the table.

She placed the sugar bowl next to it, and placed the spoons on the saucers.

Maciej nodded gratefully.

He slept poorly that night.

He had constant nightmares about grave diggers burying him in the ground, in a coffin full of disgusting, biting worms. He woke periodically and lay in the dark, staring into the darkness of his bedroom, then, exhausted, fell asleep, only to have the same nightmare again.

At that moment, he looked like a ghost, with dark circles under his eyes, a rumpled shirt, and cappuccino froth at the corners of his mouth. He kept thinking about the platinum statuette of Christ, unable to shake the images and associations that haunted him. When he'd answered his friend's phone this morning, he'd heard the same anxiety in his voice that had been filling his mind for a while now. He knew he was afraid, too, but he hadn't even asked. Perhaps he'd imagined it, and was merely projecting his own feelings onto the image he'd seen. He felt himself becoming obsessed with the mysterious sculpture.

He still hoped his friend was handling it better than he was.

But when they met, he saw the same grimace of fear on Dominik's face that had been gnawing at his mind, and he was convinced that his friend, like him, was deeply nervous and apprehensive.

"I think I know why that thing in the sacristy only killed Jakub," Kaczorkowski said anxiously, dropping the second sugar cube into his cup.

Maciej looked at him questioningly but remained silent, waiting for his friend to finish what he had to say.

"When you were at our dinner, you said something that has been bothering me ever since. You mentioned priests, holy water, and that clergy are not in danger.

" "That's true." Maciej took a sip of his cappuccino. It was very hot and burned his tongue and palate.

Dominik nodded, as if this confirmation were one of the fitting pieces of the puzzle.

"I remember that when Jakub and I entered the church, I dipped my fingers in the holy water and crossed myself. I always do that when I cross the threshold. Jakub didn't."

Maciej listened carefully to Dominik's words. He held a small, silver-plated spoon in his hand, almost unconsciously running his fingers over it.

"I understand," he replied thoughtfully.

"Do you think there's a chance that thing didn't kill me because I came into contact with holy water?

" "I don't know. " "He put the spoon down on his plate. "Perhaps that's what happened. Maybe holy water really does protect against evil?"

Dominik leaned over the table.

"Then why did I end up in the hospital in such serious condition?" he asked, looking his friend in the eye. "I felt the power of the platinum Christ, or rather, that something inside him. He was throwing me against the walls like a puppet. "

Maciej slowly shook his head, then froze for a moment, as if realizing something.

"I think it's also about the amount of water," he said carefully. "It may seem silly, but I think you only touched the water with your fingers. There wasn't much, and it quickly dried from your forehead, hands, and clothes. You understand.

" "That does sound strange, to say the least. But maybe that's the point? Maybe the holy water made the difference between my life and Jakub's death."

"That's just my guess," Maciej said uncertainly. "Priests and altar boys are constantly in contact with various blessed objects, and with holy water itself. You entered a church for the first time in who knows how long: a week, two?

" "I haven't been to Mass in about two months," Dominik admitted openly.

"Exactly. And the people who have access to the sacristy are people of the church."

Dominik sipped his cappuccino, then, after some thought, added another cube of sugar and stirred it with a spoon. He didn't say a word for a moment.

"There's one more thing," he muttered quietly.

"What?

" "If what you're saying is truly true, people are in danger.

" "What do you mean?" Maciej didn't quite understand what his friend was trying to tell him. He was too tired to play guessing games. He would have liked to go to sleep and rest, but somewhere at the edge of his consciousness, he was tormented by the feeling that the nightmare might return. No, he didn't want to dream again. The mere memory of what had happened to him in that dream made him shudder. He instinctively glanced at his left hand, as if afraid of seeing the hideous, slippery worms on it again. He lowered his hand and ran the back of his hand over the rough material of his jeans, wiping a shiver of disgust from his skin.

Dominik sneezed loudly. He pulled a handkerchief from his small leather pouch and blew his nose.

"I've learned that the figurine is to be exposed to the light of day," he said after a moment, tossing the handkerchief into the pot of a plastic flower standing at the table. He grabbed a handful of bright pebbles and sprinkled the white cloth over it.

"What?" Maciej almost shouted, arousing the interest of an elderly woman sitting three tables away. She glared at him and nodded, as if to brush a lock of hair, which, in fact, she didn't have much of. "What did you say?

" "The platinum Christ is to stand at the altar for a while." "Dominik continued, carefully covering the protruding corner of his handkerchief with pebbles. He finished and looked at his friend. "I heard it from one of our priests. I met him by chance at Powązki Cemetery. My father's grave is there. Anyway, it doesn't matter, that's not the point. I know Father Grzegorz because he married Paulina and me. He remembered us; in fact, he approached me himself. I engaged him in a short conversation. I mentioned the statue, and he told me about it."

Maciej closed his eyes for a moment and touched his forehead. He swore silently. Then he stared into his companion's face.

"Do you know what this means?" he asked nervously, but he didn't expect an answer. Dominik simply nodded. They were both aware of the potential threat posed by this particular statue of Christ. It had already proven to be deadly, and if their theories held even a shred of plausibility, then confronting it with a crowd of the faithful could have disastrous consequences.

They were both silent for a moment. They sat, intently considering the conclusions they had reached and their possible outcomes.

Maciej lifted his cup and finished his cappuccino.

"A massive massacre is about to unfold," he said quietly.

They got out of the car and walked briskly to the church.

Dominik held a plastic cage in his left hand, containing a rat he'd bought at one of the pet stores downtown. The animal was already a bit overgrown, but that didn't matter at the moment.

They approached a large stone bowl of holy water set into the vestibule wall. They dipped their right hands in it and made the sign of the cross, carefully touching their foreheads, chests, and shoulders.

"Do you think it will work?" Kaczorkowski asked quietly as they entered the church's main nave.

"I hope so," Maciej replied, inhaling the sultry scent of incense, candles, and old women's perfume, characteristic of all churches. They slowly approached the altar, looking around for a priest.

"There must be someone in the church at this hour," Dominik muttered hopefully.

"Look, Father Adam Rejs." Maciej pointed to a tall man in a cassock who had just emerged from the sacristy. He remembered seeing him leaving the church that fateful morning, waiting for Dominik and Jakub in the car. Unfortunately, he didn't make it.

"Let's go," Dominik said, and moved toward the priest. "Father! Praised be he!

" "Forever and ever." "Rev. Rejs replied with a warm smile, looking at the two men.

Reverend Rejs was a handsome man with blond hair that, combed to the side, gave him a somewhat boyish appearance. His prominent, perhaps slightly too long, nose and light blue eyes brought to mind Scandinavian Vikings, but unlike them, Father Adam was a kind, eloquent, and classy man. He chose his words carefully and spoke beautiful Polish. Dominik remembered that he often celebrated children's masses and was able to handle even the most unruly little ones effortlessly. He spoke to the children about God with incredible ease, always managing to focus their attention on any topic he chose.

When he saw a rat in a cage, he smiled amiably.

"Animal lovers?" he joked immediately.

Dominik nodded instinctively, but didn't return the smile. He was serious and focused. He couldn't bring himself to react spontaneously when he was aware of the sinister presence enshrined in the statuette standing in the sacristy.

"We have a matter for you, Father, and we ask that you listen to us before you say anything," he announced determinedly.

"Then I'm listening carefully," Reverend Rejs replied softly.

Quietly, almost in a whisper, Maciej and Dominik briefly recounted everything concerning the platinum Christ statuette. Dominik, not wanting to antagonize the priest, didn't admit to the burglary. He preferred to stick to the story he had previously given the police: that he had been attacked by a bandit and forced into the sacristy. There, the perpetrator beat him and brutally murdered his friend. They also mentioned the tragic death of Bartłomiej Wrzecionowaty and their suspicions about the statuette. When Maciej admitted that they believed the figurine was possessed by evil forces, Reverend Rejs frowned slightly and fixed a cold, searching gaze on Dominik.

"If I understand correctly, there was a murder five months ago that day, and you saw the perpetrator. So why do you claim the statuette of Christ has anything to do with it? Where did you get the idea it was possessed by evil forces? After all, this sculpture represents God, it's in a temple. It can't be haunted. Admit it, gentlemen, that sounds a bit absurd.

" "Father, you have to trust us," Maciej said. "This rat is supposed to be proof of that.

" "A rat?" the priest asked, a faint smile on his face as he gazed intently into the dark eyes of the man holding the cage.

"We'd like to place it in the empty, closed sacristy." "Dominik said seriously, not looking away from the piercing gaze that seemed to peer into his soul. "We think that something enchanted in the Christ statue will treat him the same way it treated the previous victims.

" "That's absurd," the priest said coldly, a spark of anger flickering in his blue eyes.

Maciej took a step forward, leaning slightly toward him. He was determined and afraid. But he had to know. He was aware that if he didn't learn the truth, he would never sleep soundly again, and his nightmares would eventually drive him mad.

"This statue is to be displayed before the altar," he said calmly, but with a tension he couldn't hide. "People will pray to it and admire it. If we're wrong, nothing will happen, but if we're right, if there really is something evil in this statuette... Just think of the danger threatening all these faithful.

" Reverend Rejs shook his head in disbelief. He was silent for a long moment.

"Really, I think I should ask you to leave," he finally muttered, looking unconvinced at the rat in the cage.

"We're begging you, Father. It's only a few minutes. We just want to prove ourselves wrong. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe I was having hallucinations from a concussion, and some sadistic degenerate killed Jakub and Wrzecionowaty, but Father, please let us check it out," Dominik asked quietly. "Please give us a few minutes. This isn't some stupid joke. You'll stay with us and keep an eye on everything we do. If anything happens in the sacristy—

" "Nothing will happen," the Reverend interrupted suddenly, but there was no certainty in his voice. He watched the two men carefully, unsure if he could trust them. They didn't look like jokers or bandits, but what they were talking about was quite unusual.

"Please," they both said seriously.

The priest pondered silently for a moment, then nodded.

"I hope it won't take long. I don't have much time." "Here we are," he muttered, glancing at the watch on his left wrist. "

Thank you, Father. "

All three of them went to the sacristy.

Once the rat was inside, Maciej put his head against the door and began listening.

"What do you want to hear?" the Reverend asked, somewhat intrigued by the entire situation and the behavior of the two men.

"I want to prove what this figurine is capable of, Father, and I'm afraid you'll soon find out for yourself." Maciej continued to strain his hearing, even closing his eyes to focus even more and better on the sounds behind the closed door.

"I don't know why I agreed to this," the Reverend sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's absurd."

Dominik, already somewhat embarrassed by the silence, glanced at the sacristy door and then around the church. A young boy kneeling in one of the pews in the center aisle was praying so fervently that his whispers to God could be heard. At the very back of the church, in the last row, sat a man dressed in a gray coat, silently reciting the rosary with his hands folded. The silence was almost captivating, and the pleasant coolness and atmosphere of the church could induce a sense of peace and relaxation.

Maciej continued listening until his right ear turned red. He turned and pressed his left ear to the door. A good two minutes passed, but they heard nothing.

Father Adam Rejs shifted his weight, clearly losing patience with the actions of these two strange men.

"Will this go on much longer?" he asked in a whisper, touching the shoulder of the man leaning toward the door with his fingers. "I'll have to go back to my duties soon.

" "Please give us a moment," Maciej pleaded.

"Let this moment not last forever." - the priest grumbled, standing behind Maciej.

Minutes passed, time seemed to drag on forever, and still no sound came from the sacristy that might indicate anything amiss. No rat squeaks, no noises.

And just as Maciej, resigned, pulled his ear away from the cool wood and looked sadly at Dominik, a loud bang echoed from behind the door.

The priest flinched as if electrocuted.

"What was that?" he asked sharply.

Then they heard a squeal so loud and filled with suffering that Maciej's hair stood on end. All three looked at each other, then at the closed door, beyond which a piercing, ominous silence reigned.

Maciej turned to the priest.

"Please look into the sacristy," he asked with difficulty, the words barely escaping his throat.

"Why me?" Reverend Rejs asked, taking a step back. He clearly had no desire to investigate what had happened in the dark, empty room.

"Because he won't harm you," Maciej said calmly, silently praying to God that he was right.

Dominik stepped away from the door and looked at his friend. Fear was etched on his face. It was easy to guess what he was thinking.

The priest approached the door, turned the heavy handle, and slowly began to open it. After a moment, it swung open, and he stepped inside, leaving the two men standing in the side aisle of the church just outside the doorway.

When Maciej and Dominik returned, they saw that he was as pale as a sheet. He swallowed hard and looked intently into the eyes, first of Maciej, and then of Dominik.

"This isn't some stupid joke, is it?" he asked.

"No, Father. We're not in the mood for jokes right now. I can only guess what you saw in the sacristy, but think about the dangers people face if you display that figurine at the altar."

Reverend Rejs looked away from him and fixed his gaze on the stone floor of the temple.

He was frightened, he trembled, but after a long moment he managed to control himself and raised his head.

"That rat is torn to pieces," he announced in a dead voice.

"Evil is nesting in that figurine, Father, get rid of it." Dominik said quietly but clearly. "This isn't a joke. Surely you believe us now?

" "I don't know what you mean by 'get rid of it,'" the priest whispered, nervously wiping his sweat-beaded forehead. "I can't just throw it away. And if it's possessed by a demon or the devil, it will come back.

" "So what can be done? Perform an exorcism?" Maciej asked.

"That's not so easy these days either. For such a ceremony, you need special permission and someone with the necessary qualifications.

" "Do you have those qualifications?"

Reverend Rejs hesitated, then replied curtly,

"Yes."

The night was exceptionally clear.

The star-studded sky seemed to hang peacefully above the Earth.

It was watching.

Only two candles burned in the sacristy. Maciej and Dominik sat in a corner on wooden chairs. They were focused on what was about to happen. They hadn't spoken a word since they entered the sacristy.

Before he arrived, Dominik had to explain to Paulina that he would be home very late, and he hadn't quite succeeded. He said he was going to the pub with Maciej to discuss a few things concerning the money Wrzecionowaty owed them, which his boss supposedly owed him. But he wasn't good at lying, and Paulina knew him too well to be fooled.

She looked at him and, with regret in her voice, said,

"Couldn't you think of anything more pathetic?" Then she locked herself in the bathroom and stayed there for nearly two hours. Finally, she left when she saw Dominik getting ready to leave the house. She went to her husband and embraced him, hugging him tightly.

"If anything happens to you, I'll kill myself," she said quietly, kissing him tenderly on the cheek.

Maciej desperately wanted a cigarette. He thought he'd have time to light up, but just as he was about to get up and leave, Reverend Rejs appeared. He entered the sacristy abruptly, as if he were very nervous. And indeed, he was. He brought with him a sprinkler of holy water. He dipped it in, then raised it above his head and waved it energetically toward the statuette. The holy drops fell on a platinum statuette of Christ standing on a wooden table in the corner of the room.

The statuette was a good forty centimeters tall and depicted Jesus sitting on a large, round stone.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen," the priest recited, and sprinkled the statuette again. Then he left for a moment, and when he returned, he held a small bag filled to the brim with leaves of some kind.

Maciej watched with interest as the priest's very slow movements tore open the carefully tied bag and spilled the leaves onto the floor. He remembered once watching a horror film called "The Exorcist," in which the priest, expelling the devil from the body of a teenage girl, used only a cross, incantations, and prayer. It was a completely different experience this moment. Father Adam Rejs crossed himself silently, then spoke a few words in Latin. He then took two handfuls of dried leaves and sprinkled them over the platinum statue of Christ.

Dominik, too, watched the preacher's actions with fascination, occasionally glancing at his equally focused friend, offering him a tentative smile.

Father Adam placed a silver chain with a crucifix around his neck, kissing it, and making the sign of the cross in the air. Then he approached Maciej and Dominik.

"Well, let's begin, gentlemen," he announced quietly. He knelt about two meters before the statue, bowed his head, and silently prayed to God for a long moment. Then he stood and sprinkled the room again with holy water.

"May God protect this place from all evil and give me the strength to fight the demon of darkness who is here with us," he said, placing the sprinkler on the gray floor.

He stretched out his hands and closed his eyes, like a medium summoning a spirit. Standing at attention, he began to speak quickly and clearly, like a Polish studies graduate at a recitation competition.

"I know who has nested within this Holy statue of Christ of Nazareth, and now, in the name of God, commands the unclean force to depart. Leave this place, devil, I command you in the name of God, who created goodness. In the name of Jesus, who sacrificed his life. In the name of the Virgin Mary, ever virgin, who gave her womb to give birth to Holiness on Earth." Tremble and flee, you impious one, for the Lord commands you: leave this place in the name of Holiness and never return. You are cursed and abhorrent, and now your end has come. I expel you in the name of God the Father, His only Son, and the Virgin Mary. Free this statue from your evil and return to whence you came. Depart, you impure spirit. Amen.

The sacristy seemed to grow darker. The priest remained at attention next to the possessed statue of the platinum Christ and crossed himself. Maciej felt cold and shivered, and Dominik must have felt the same, for he rubbed his hands together and buttoned his jacket.

One of the candles in the tall, thin candlestick went out. The priest immediately lit it, then stood before the statue and embraced it in his hands.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away!" "He wailed for a good half a minute, until he was thrown against the opposite wall by some hate-filled, invisible force.

Dominik cried out in terror and rose from his chair, trying to help him up.

"No!" Father Adam immediately raised his hand, stopping him from making any movement. "Stay where you are!" he ordered firmly.

He rose from the floor, straightened, and reached for some more dried leaves. He sprinkled them over the possessed statuette. Maciej thought he heard an inhuman gurgle that lasted for literally a fraction of a second. It was the wheezing sound of a powerful, deadly, wounded animal. Fear nearly overwhelmed both Maciej and Dominik, who muttered barely audibly,

"Do you feel that? Something's hanging in the air."

Maciej swallowed and clutched the arm of the chair. He didn't answer, tried to nod, but only a quiet squeak escaped his throat.

Father Rejs screamed,

"Go away or reveal yourself, you infernal coward! Show your face, you demon from hell! Reveal yourself or perish forever! In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I command you to depart!"

Then the priest stepped even closer to the statuette and was about to embrace it when he was thrown back again, this time with twice the force of the previous one. His back hit the wall and he doubled over in pain.

Maciej shuddered, then stood up and ran to the priest.

"What the hell is going on? Father, are you okay?" He grabbed the exorcist by the arm, looking in horror at the statuette of Christ, which, completely indifferent to the people's efforts, still stood on the wooden table.

Dead.

Cold.

Evil.

"Get away from here!" the priest shouted sharply. "Go back to your place and don't come near me again! This is very dangerous."

Maciej helped him to his feet, then stepped back unsteadily and sat down again in the chair next to Dominik, who was shivering with cold and fear.

The atmosphere around them in the sacristy was strangely heavy, chilly, yet stifling. The fumes of evil made Maciej gasp for air, as if he were suddenly running out of oxygen. The candles kept going out, and the priest kept lighting them.

Time passed very slowly; here, in the sacristy during the exorcism, it seemed to almost stop forever. An icy silence reigned, in which the only sounds were the clicking of the priest's heels and his words, addressed to the power of darkness enshrined in the Christ figure.

Suddenly, the candles went out again. Reverend Rejs tried to light them, but they wouldn't ignite. Dominik thought it was the lighter's fault, but when he pulled out his own and tried to get up to hand it to the priest, the priest shook his head.

"My lighter is fine. It's the devil who's being malicious," he said firmly, but with growing concern in his voice. For the first time, uncertainty and fear were evident in the priest's face. It was obvious that the first attempt to exorcise the demon had failed, and it had almost proved fatal.

The sacristy was enveloped in darkness.

Father Adam Rejs opened a small cabinet hanging next to the door and pulled out an old, dusty copy of the Bible. He opened it somewhere in the middle and began reading. It was written in Latin, so Maciej and Dominik couldn't understand a word. And for some reason, they became even more frightened. Maciej realized the situation was much more serious than it had initially seemed.

The evil forces trapped in the platinum figurine refused to leave.

"Amen!" Reverend Rejs exclaimed, closing the Holy Book. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen!" he repeated. "You, who have made your home among us, return from whence you came. I adjure and cast you out, Satan, in the name of God, leave this place!"

Almost at the same moment, a deafening growl rang out. The statue of Christ began to sway from side to side, then rose a few centimeters above the table. A moment later, everyone heard a thick, rasping voice.

"By what right do you disturb my peace?

" "God's law," the priest replied dryly, leaning over the spinning figurine.

A shape was slowly forming next to the sinister statuette. At first barely visible, after a moment it began to take on real, concrete characteristics.

Maciej, completely stunned, stared at the swirls of air perfectly and clearly visible next to the platinum Christ.

"And who gave you this right?" asked the invisible demon.

"God," the exorcist replied instantly.

Loud, mocking laughter filled the entire room. A broken, almost growling cackle vibrated and persisted, and when it subsided, the candles glowed again with a warm glow.

The men, stunned by the sight, were completely unaware of what was happening. They watched and listened, but fear prevented them from thinking logically.

"You are pathetic," a voice said.

"You are cursed, and the Lord of Heaven will conquer you with his power!" "The priest immediately retorted. He reached for the sprinkler and sprinkled the sculpture, then repeated the ritual of sprinkling dried leaves, which rested on the rotating statue of Christ.

The shape forming beside it suddenly vanished, and silence reigned.

Dominik raised his head and looked expectantly at the priest.

"What happened?" he asked, astonished by the sudden emptiness and the absence of any sounds

. "Is it all over?" "I doubt it," the exorcist replied anxiously. "I think he's toying with us again."

Maciej pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

The priest gave him a sympathetic look.

"That's for calming down, isn't it?" He smiled warmly, as if to reassure the man.

"I don't know if anything can calm me down now."

Then the candles went out again, and a bang rang out. It was so terrifyingly loud they thought something had exploded. Nothing could be seen in the darkness. Maciej, startled, dropped his cigarette but didn't bend down to pick it up, as what he saw paralyzed him completely.

The priest fell to his knees, and Dominik seemed to be in some kind of trance; he stared blankly ahead, his mouth open.

A few meters away stood a naked woman.

She was exquisitely beautiful. Long blond hair fell to her shoulders, and she had an upturned nose that perfectly complemented the rest of her charming face, as did her full lips and large green eyes. Her body could be described as heavenly: slender thighs, a flat stomach, narrow hips, and rounded breasts with nipples perking with excitement. Her pubic mound was completely shaved, and just above it, a tattooed dolphin seemed to soar high toward her navel.

"Make love to me," she said suddenly, looking at the stunned Maciej. "Please, make love to me," she repeated in a voice as delicate as silk.

Maciej felt his penis harden and was unable to control the excitement that was overwhelming him.

"Don't react to those words!" the priest said loudly. "It's just a deception.

" "Please, come to me," the woman repeated seductively.

"Stay where you are!" the Reverend ordered, swinging violently. He threw the bowl filled with blessed water at the naked woman.

Then he stood up, looking at the apparition with a faint smile.

The bowl soared high and landed directly on her head. Holy water drenched her entire beautiful body, flowing in rushing streams from head to toe. A loud sizzling sound echoed, as if someone were burning raw meat. The room immediately filled with a stench similar to that of burning fingernails. And the body of the unearthly woman quickly began to shrink.

Father Adam stood over him and began to pray loudly.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come..." When he finished, the air grew brighter, and the temperature quickly returned to its normal level.

On the floor, near the exorcist's black shoes, there was only a wet, pinkish stain.

Maciej and Dominik looked at each other uncertainly, hoping that everything was finally over.

"Is it over?" Dominik managed.

The man in the cassock stood by the statue of Christ, gazing at it intently.

Maciej thought he was most likely reciting another prayer in silence.

"Yes," the priest replied suddenly, turning to them. "The demon has departed."

It was three in the morning when they left the church.

A heavy rain was falling.

Maciej pulled his car keys from his pocket and opened the passenger door. He pulled a pack of Marlboros from the glove compartment and lit one.

"Just to calm him down, eh?" "The priest asked, giving him a faint smile.

"I don't know if anything can calm me down right now," he replied quietly, getting into the car.

Dominik took the passenger seat in the backseat of the Taurus.

"Be careful," Father Adam pleaded. He turned and walked slowly toward the church.

The stars were still shining in the sky. A gusty wind had sprung up.

The driver started the engine, turned on the lights and wipers, and only then did he realize how tired and hungry he was.

Dominik didn't say a word.

Maciej put the car in first gear and slowly drove off, taking one last look in the rearview mirror.

The church looked like a huge black creature in the night glow.