Chapter 9 House of Rot

Invitation came the next morning through two sharply dressed young men in suits that looked too expensive for Ajegunle.

Knocked politely on Manny’s door while he was still trying to eat cold rice from the night before. One of them held a white envelope with gold writing on it.

“Brother Emmanuel,” the taller one said with a smooth smile, “Pastor Victor Adeyemi of Victory Fire International sends his warmest regards. He saw the videos,he believes the Lord is doing something mighty through you and he invites you to our crusade tonight. Special seating. Front row.”

Manny stared at the envelope like it was a trap. “I’m not a preacher,go tell your pastor I’m not interested.”

The second man stepped forward. “Please, sir. Thousands of people will be there. Many are coming because of what they saw you do. The pastor says God told him you are the real deal and not like these fake prophets everywhere.”

Manny wanted to refuse,every part of him screamed to stay away from churches and crowds,but something maybe curiosity or maybe the Voice pushed him to accept and he took the envelope.

That evening, a clean white SUV came to pick him up. Manny sat in the back wearing his best faded shirt, feeling completely out of place. The glowing cracks on his body were hidden, but they burned hotter the closer they got to the massive church.

Victory Fire International was nothing like the small prayer houses in Ajegunle. It was a huge auditorium that looked more like a concert hall. Bright lights. Giant screens. A stage with smoke machines and professional cameras. Thousands of people were already inside, singing, dancing, waving hands in the air. The energy was electric.

Pastor Victor Adeyemi was exactly what Manny expected, tall, charismatic, wearing an expensive white suit with gold embroidery. His smile looked perfect on the big screens. When Manny was led to the front row, the pastor came down from the stage personally to shake his hand.

“Brother Manny!” Pastor Victor said loudly, voice full of fake warmth. “The man of the hour. God is using you powerfully,stay close tonight,we will talk after service.”

Manny forced a nod the moment their hands touched, he felt it.

Rot.

Deep, thick corruption,under Pastor Victor’s perfect skin, black veins pulsed everywhere his neck, face, chest, even down his arms. Darker and more widespread than anything Manny had seen before,the man was practically drowning in hidden sin.

Manny pulled his hand back quickly, fighting the sudden urge to vomit.

The service started with loud music,dancing, and people falling under the “anointing.” Pastor Victor preached about breakthroughs, miracles, and how God was raising new prophets in this generation,every few minutes, he pointed toward Manny and the crowd would cheer.

But Manny wasn’t hearing the words,he was seeing.

Everywhere he looked, black veins. On the associate pastors,on some of the choir members, the rich-looking people in the front rows, hidden affairs,money rituals,fake miracles,stolen offerings and lies upon lies.

The Voice rose inside him like a storm.

This house is rotten, expose him,burn the lie right now.

Manny gripped the edge of his seat until his knuckles hurt,his scars flared with intense heat,the power wanted out. It wanted to make Pastor Victor confess everything in front of his thousands of followers; he feeds on their desperation,he steals their souls with fake fire,and lets them see the truth.

Sweat rolled down Manny’s face as his breathing became heavy,the glowing cracks under his clothes grew brighter,a woman beside him noticed something strange and moved away slightly.

Pastor Victor was now calling people forward for “special deliverance.” He pointed at a woman in a wheelchair.

“Today, God will use our new brother to show His power!” the pastor announced.

The crowd started chanting Manny’s name.

Manny stood up slowly, fists clenched. The Voice was now screaming.

DO IT. JUDGE HIM.

He took one step toward the stage,then another. Pastor Victor smiled wider, stretching out his hand.

But at the last moment, Manny stopped,fought the power with everything he had. His whole body shook from the effort,new cracks of light appeared on the side of his neck, barely hidden by his collar.

“I… I can’t,” he said hoarsely, voice barely audible over the music.

He turned and pushed his way through the crowd, heading for the exit. People tried to touch him as he passed,some begged for prayer while others looked disappointed.

Outside in the cool night air, Manny leaned against the church wall, breathing hard. His scars were burning like fresh wounds. The Voice was angry.

You are weak and this place needs cleansing. Why do you resist what you were forged for?

Manny slid down until he was sitting on the dirty ground.

“I don’t want to be your weapon,” he whispered. “I just want to be left alone.”

But even as he said it, he knew it was too late. Pastor Victor had seen something in his eyes. And the pastor’s black veins had looked back at him with hunger.

Something evil had noticed him.

And it was smiling.