The Apostle Paul and the Kabye people of West Africa foretold these truths; truths so disturbing to the church that they were buried long ago deep within the archives with the other inconvenient texts. Born at the time of creation, christened in the flames of demonic
Centuries have passed since the mass possession of seventeen nuns in France, yet the survivors, the afflicted and immortal servants of the church gather in the capital of French Louisiana to battle ‘the wanderer’, the infernal prince and only son of Lucifer.
Catholic priest and Voodoo priestess alike prepare for his return and await the arrival of the chosen ones not expecting seven unassuming suburbanites, several coming of age who were only first intrigued by history and then ensnared by the mystical and find themselves trapped in an apocalyptic journey.
This is their story. It is undeniable and deep in the recesses of your heart, in that place where ancient bloodlines intertwine, it will resonate and you will believe it.
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Here is an excerpt from the book:
…as we reached the end of the cool, dark bricked passageway, we arrived at a beautiful courtyard displaying an explosion of greenery that created a wonderful floral kaleidoscope. Ferns were hanging everywhere. Some reached down from above as they clung to the railing of the courtyard balconies. Others embraced the three gas lanterns whose flames flickered in accord as a soft breeze blew the draping fern leaves to and fro.
Rubber tree plants standing at rigid attention in the corners pointed the way towards twining stems of wisteria that had succeeded in their long climb up the rock face of the twelve foot brick walls and celebrated their journey by showering the structure with pendulous purple clusters of efflorescence. Lush azalea bushes buttressed those walls providing a white, red and purple foundation to the serenity.
Dominating the colorful array and standing right in the center of the courtyard was one of the most amazing fountains I had ever seen. Over six feet tall and constructed from some heavy alloy; seven angels stood at its base and held above them as if they were holding up the heavens a large gilded bowl whose centerpiece was a king's crown complete with a magnificent fleur de lis.
It was on that day and in those few moments that I discovered the true beauty of the French Quarter lay hidden behind a cloak of high courtyard walls tucked safely away from the prying eyes of tourists.
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