DR. JUDAH GODLING HAS NO HEARTBEAT, yet there is life in him.

He was murdered seven days ago and not a single breath comes out of his nostrils any longer, but his body still functions perfectly, this time even more alive. Stronger. Faster. Powerful.

It is six thirty in the evening and in the belfry of the Church of Christ's Second Coming, in the protective semidarkness of dusk shrouding this humid spring day, Judah is a shadow in the shadows. An indistinguishable outline of a man crouching next to the stone framework that enclosed the bells. Only his eyes are quite distinct-dark, luminous, narrowing into a gaze of contrasting fury and melancholy that is almost hypnotic in intensity.

Judah is standing still but there is no stillness within him.

From the streets below come the sounds of the wackshmucks' annual equinox revelry. The drone of car engines and the racket of ten thousand voices. The deep rolling inarticulate drumbeats that seem to mimic a stomach rumbling with hunger filtered up from the passing parade.

The Gorgoths are migrants that have started showing up in Nirvañana when Judah was a boy, peculiar characters that looked like a cross between vampire movie cultists and Halloween revelers. Cadaverous make-up. Dark arts accessories. Post-modern Gothic fashion that gave the impression that they are attending a funeral service, or about to be buried themselves.

Gorgoths of all races and ages seem to make their rendezvous in Nirvañana. No distinct nationality or culture characterizes them. An agglomeration of many influences from different parts of the world.

They arrive in droves on a train, settle in town for a while; then they just disappear. Another horde comes to replace them.

Judah's best friend, Rob Winger (aka the Altar Boy), always say that Gorgoths are witches.

When they were in high school, they spied on the Gorgoths in one of their new moon festivities in the desert, and saw them dancing like crazy around a bronze-skinned woman with a hair of snakes like the gorgons of classical mythology, sitting on a throne and surrounded by burning effigies of crucified men. They took pictures and posted them on Nirvañana's website. It caused much uproar that earned the migrants the name Gorgoths.

Through the years, the migrants have settled all over Nirvañana like unwanted squatters, imposing their peculiar lifestyle on the locals who are for the most part, intimidated into acquiescence.

The Mardi Gras mirrors New Orleans' Shrove Tuesday festivities, only a lot more sacrilegious. Judah sums it all up in one word: schizophrenic--a grotesque manifestation of Gorgoth delusion and hallucination

Floats that exhibited hellish versions of

A Hell carnival featuring booths and rides that inflict bodily pain like torture devices from the Middle Ages used to extort evidence or confession

The rack to stretch the victim's joints to breaking point

The thumbscrew

The boot, which crushes the foot

The iron maiden, a cage shaped like a human being with interior spikes to spear the occupant

Electric shock booth

Built around a football field-sized pit of fire.

The spotlights crisscrossing the skies reveal a glimpse of the man in black leather Gorgoth outfit at the belfry, his ashen face and body tattooed with magical symbols similar to Qamatayian's tattoos. Each hand is lashed-up by a black chain, like a boxers protective bandage.

Judah is now the man who could not die, the Infinit.

"Why did Cain kill Abel?" the parish priest of the Church of Christ's Second Coming's raspy voice thundered in the jam-packed church. "Cain said to his brother Abel, 'Let us go to the field.' When they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him."

Of all the stories in the Bible, Father Dick Badden considered the story about Cain and Abel the most scandalous of them all. How could Adam and Eve's firstborn, a blessed boy endowed with special powers by God Himself, become the world's first murderer? "Then the Lord asked Cain, 'Where is your brother Abel?' He answered, 'I do not know. Am I my brother's keeper?'"

Traditional Bible scholars blame it on anger sparked by envy: God preferred Abel's sacrifice to Cain's. But Father Badden cannot accept that it was all triggered by anger management failure.

Rubbish.

Too ambiguous.

Simplistic at best.

In his Sunday homily, he shares his take on the matter to his flock:

"Sex. Brothers and sisters, blame it all on sex." Father Badden, wearing a headset, moves around the rows of pews on his hoverboard as he speaks. "Eve's illicit sexual activity with the serpent."

A synchronized jaw-dropping moment. An old woman drops her Bible in astonishment.

Father Badden is a master showman. His sermons are the most anticipated portion of the mass, like an entertaining television show. He loves to astonish his audience with his uncanny antics, and mesmerize them with exaggerated and inaccurate personal interpretations of Scripture.

He doesn't care if his views are false and harmful to the congregation. He desires adulation above everything else.

Power.

Blind followers.

And an unquestioned reign of their lives.

Politicians, tycoons, celebrities, ordinary people-Father Badden has hordes of them twisted around his middle finger. He runs the biggest most powerful Catholic parish this side of the nation.

"The serpent impregnated Eve by the seed of the devil in the Garden of Eden, and that adulterous union caused Cain to be wicked from birth." Father Badden wheels to the front of the altar. "1 John 3: 11-12 testified to it. 'We should love one another, unlike Cain who belonged to the evil one and slaughtered his brother.'"

Most people nod. Some clear their throats. A look of incredulity wrinkles a few faces.

"So why did Cain saw that murder was the only way to resolve his anger? Because he was the Devil's child and his works were evil. And it all started with sex. Bad sex."

More clearing of throats.

The Lord then said: "What have you done! Listen: your brother's blood cries out to me from the soil! Therefore you shall be banned from the soil that opened its mouth to receive your brother's blood from your hand. You shall become a restless wanderer on the Earth."

Church gifts and donations hit the roof that day.

The hallway of Father Badden's cloister is dimly lit. He strides towards his office with righteous arrogance, scratches his asshole with his right hand, and smells it as if it were a scented candle.

Two pistol-packing bodyguards dressed like stockbrokers-a tall man and a big man-are standing by the office door, waiting for him.

"Evenin' Father Badden," the tall man says.

The big man kisses Father Badden's hand; his nose twitches involuntarily due to the offensive odor of Father Badden's fingers, which almost turns him sick to the stomach. The priest flirtatiously fondles the big man's face with his hand. The two bodyguards look at each other with calm reprehension.

"Patriarcha's spiritual situation must be in dire straits to bribe me with two dashing gentlemen," Father Badden says.

"Senator Patriarcha is worried about your safety," the big man says.

A cloud of white anger passes over Father Badden's face. He stops caressing the big man. "It's because of that murderer, I presume. The demon of death called the Infinit."

The big man nods.

"Well, tell Patriarcha that the Lord's twelve disciples should be the ones protecting me."

"Father, the Infinit killed them all," the tall man says.

"Oh my goddamn Lord," Father Badden says, making the sign of the cross. "Have they been brought back to life yet?"

"Not yet, Father," the tall man says.

"I'll discuss that matter in my meeting with the Lord Jesus Christ tonight and Patriarcha," Father Badden says. "But first things first...I'm expecting a problem orphan boy, probably demon-possessed, according to the nuns."

"He's waiting inside, Father Badden," the big man says.

"Then the inquisition begins," Father Badden says.

The tall man opens the door. A good-looking boy is nervously waiting at the couch.

Father Badden enters and puts his hands together as if in prayer. "Put yourself in the presence of God, my child."

The tall man closes the door.

"It's a bad time to be young, handsome, and Catholic around here," the big man says.

In the cloister, Father Badden lights a cigarette as he throws a lustful look at the boy. He extends his hand with the lighted cigarette to the boy who approaches and reluctantly kisses it. The priest strokes the boy's face.

"You're a perfect angelic vision," Father Badden says. "But the nuns said you walked in your sleep, spoke in strange tongues, and set the orphanage's altar on fire -you're a spawn of Satan."

He burns the boy's ear with the cigarette. The boy recoils to the couch, writhing in pain.

At the hallway, the bodyguards can hear the boy's tortured cries but they just look at each other and knowingly smile.

"Father Badden is surely sexed up tonight," the big man says, lighting a cigarette.

"Lust never sleeps," the tall man says.

The boy's face and arms are now full of flesh wounds breached by Father Badden's cigarette. The priest constantly harries him from all sides with a maniacal verve.

"Please, Father Badden," the boy cries, "I'm not a demon."

"Just like Cain, you're a son of a demon."

"No, Father, I love Jesus."

"Indeed? That remains to be seen. Take off your clothes."

The boy is stunned.

"Oh, never mind," Father Badden says, seeing the boy's reluctance. "I'll just tell the nuns that you're demon-possessed and have you exorcised with boiling holy water."

"No!"

"Then if you really love God, you will take off your clothes and do what I will tell you to do...or burn."

In his young mind, the boy knows what is about to happen next. He bites his lips, closes his eyes and cries, his body shaking in fear. Father Badden starts to touch him, breathing heavily.

At the hallway, the big man stands frozen with his mouth agape, the cigarette dropping from his lips, as if he has just seen a frightening sight.

The tall man turns and sees a ghostlike manifestation: Judah, walking towards them. His manner is so impressive that a vague, unspeakable, superstitious dread suddenly overcomes them.

"The Infinit," the tall man says.

"Shoot him, shoot him," the big man says.

The bodyguards draw their guns and fire simultaneously at the Infinit. They are aghast at a terrifying discovery-he is impervious to bullets.

Inside, Father Badden hears the gunshots. He stops petting the now half-naked boy and turns to the door.

With dazzling supernatural swiftness for the bodyguards to fully see, Judah glides between them, his elbow snaps and the big man's face erupts with blood as his body slams against the wall.

The tall man screams and shoots in blind panic, riddling the big man's body with bullets.

The eye blinks and Judah twists low and delivers a reverse kick to the tall man's chin, flinging him with tremendous force onto the concrete ceiling. The bodyguards are dead before they both fall on the floor.

The Infinit looks at the bodyguards' bodies.

Father Badden opens the door.

"What in heaven's name was...?" His face turns white like paper in fear as he comes face to face with the Infinit.

"Oh, my...goddamn..." Father Badden says.

He backs off into the office, speechless with terror, but not losing the preternatural clearness of his faculties; and he never takes his eyes off the Infinit. Judah does not say a word as they stare at each other in the face; but he begins to move slowly closer to the priest.

The boy falls on his knees on the floor, shuddering.

"Back off, demon!"

The Infinit speaks with a cold, taciturn manner; his soft, almost unemotional voice sounds like an extended whisper. "Where is Regina?"

Father Badden feigns courage. "I'll-I'll die before I tell you."

The Infinit, an expression of feral indignation on his face, slowly stretches his arms in the air. The black chains that swathe each hand come alive like two supple and lithe snakes; with swift sinuous movements, they unsnarl themselves from the his hands, coiling around his forearms in sanguine fashion.

It is the last dreadful sight seen by man at the brink of death.

"You have chosen," Judah says.

The Infinit touches the priest's face.

Father Badden's head is thrown back in a grimace as he utters a stifled groan and the horrible sound of a man choking. His body involuntarily stiffens, seized by a persistent and steady tonic spasm as he draws his last salvo of breath. His arms shoot up grotesquely, waving rigid-figured hands in the air.

Then the priest sighs a last sigh and slides away from the Infinit and falls in a heap on the floor. His face is stamped with an expression of rage, fright and mortal pain.

The chains coil back to the Infinit's hands. He stares at the sobbing disconsolate choirboy.

"Mother...I want my mother...back," the orphan boy says.

Judah smiles sadly and leaves. He stops by the door, gazes back at the boy, and half-whispers: "Me, too."