
Cravings
First published 2011 by sci-fi-cafe.com.
Copyright © sci-fi-cafe.com 2011
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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"Please look at me, my love," Elise said as she walked from the bed and moved to the open window. "You never need to doubt my loyalty."
He stood motionless at the giant window, shielding his dark eyes from the midday sun, the brisk wind of winter shifting his neatly combed jet black hair out of place. The landscape before him was breathtaking, rows and rows of thin pine trees, icicles hanging from skeletal branches, an unmarked coat of new-fallen snow blanketed the swooping hills in the distance.
Liam was tall, well over six feet and far more handsome than any suitor she had ever been acquainted. His ruffled white wing-tip shirt was open down to mid-chest exposing his muscular upper body.
Elise accepted the chill in the room, letting the sheet draped on her body to fall to the floor. The hotel room they rented for the night was dim, several ornate sconces casting ominous light upon the ceiling, a single flickering candle sat on a small credenza next to the rustic colonial bed.
She moved with caution behind him, trepidation in her careful approach. Gently pressing her cold, naked flesh against his back, she reached her hands around to rest on the front pockets of his tuxedo pants. Burying her face into the space between his shoulder blades, she slid her hands up to his chest. Before she could touch his skin, he grabbed her hands in his, "Enough of this," he said; his tone distinctively English and proper. "I have made love to you. What more do you want?"
"I do not care for the selfish physical love of mortals," Elise said. "I want you completely. I want what was promised to me. I want eternity with you." He turned swiftly, pushed her away and stared at her luscious ivory body. Every curve on her was perfection, smoldering with a womanly eagerness to please. Suddenly ashamed by her nakedness, she retreated to the bed, picked up a sheet and wrapped herself in it.
"You have taken a lover against my wishes," Liam said. "This man is but a mortal. I have made my decision. I will not take you from him."
"I did no such thing. He took me! It was his choice. I should not be punished for his misfortune. And I was lonely. You left me a century ago. How was I to know you'd ever return?"
"I told you I'd be back someday. It was your duty to wait for me. I will not forgive you for succumbing to the warmth of a human. Our previous arrangement is void."
"You promised me your blood when you returned. You promised me eternal life."
"And you would have received it... If you were faithful to me."
"In all these years I have had but one lover. How many have you had?"
"That is not your business."
"I did not seduce this man as you seem to be accusing me. Now you are going to reprimand me for feeling pity toward him?"
"Regardless of how it occurred, you knew the risk involved. It is too late for redemption. I cannot give you any more of me. Such an act would be far too cruel... even for someone with a history such as mine. If I were to take you as my eternal love, I would have no choice but to kill him. I have not killed a human in over a thousand years. It has taken me many lifetimes to relinquish my lust for their blood. I have proven that our kind can live on the blood of animals alone. It is a covenant I hold dear. I will not break it simply to please your irrational desires."
Elise sat on the edge of the silk sheeted bed, her face trembling as she struggled to keep warm. "Why are you doing this to me?" she said, tears beginning to form in her almond blue eyes, her shoulder length chestnut hair falling to one side. "You made me one of your minions but now you deny me eternity? I have willingly tasted your blood. Please, allow me to pierce your throat again. I have forgotten the sweet taste of you after all this time. I fear I will die this very day if I cannot have you."
He turned away from her and set his gaze back to the window. "You will not die today, but if I give into your longing, many men will perish at your hands. You may think you can control your need for the blood of man, but if I let you drink from me again, it will be impossible to satisfy your yearning any other way. Do not blame me. I have done nothing to you. I gave you the gift of one hundred years free from mortal pain. For you to achieve immortality beyond that, you would need to drink from me once more. I will never let that happen. The price is too high." He held his hand out and almost immediately a plump white moth landed in his palm. He watched it with curiosity as it moved up his palm and came to rest inside the exquisitely long fingernail on his index finger. "Our lovemaking kept me from my hunt last night... I am very hungry." In an eyeblink, he thrust his finger into his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he sucked down the moth. It was the smallest appetizer, but it would have to do for now.
"I wish to sleep," he said. "You must leave my bed."
"Liam... I love you," She pleaded. "Please let me stay. Let me pleasure you with my body. Lust over me as you did last night. Make love to me with savage disregard. I will not ask for your blood, but please, at the very least, run your lips over my body once more."
Liam knew he would have to wait until nightfall before he could feast. It was far too difficult to hunt suitable prey in daylight hours. The thought of having Elise to himself for the rest of the day intrigued him. He couldn't deny the intense attraction he felt toward her. However, he also knew that making love to her again could be disastrous. He would need to repress his lust for her blood once more, and he was starving. Even last night, as their bodies intertwined in the heat of passion, he had to suppress the urge to drive his teeth into her sumptuous neck. "It is too dangerous for you to stay," he said finally. "I wish to keep you close to me... but not that close."
She smiled, "I thought you were cured?"
"You wish to test me?" Liam snapped.
Elise kneeled up on the corner of the bed. Slowly, she removed the sheet to expose her firm breasts, her nipples were pink, hard and erect from the cold. Liam looked at her, his emotions torn between disdain and adornment. He made it through the long night without incident. There was no reason to believe he couldn't do it again. "If I let you stay, you must promise me... No tricks!"
"I swear to you," she said, pouting "I will not mention it again."
"If you tempt me, it will be your undoing."
"Place yourself inside me, Liam. If I cannot have eternity with you, allow me the pleasure of your body once more."
"I will allow it," Liam said, "But this will be the last time. However, before I lose myself in your beauty, cover yourself as not to entice me. I wish to tell you now why I have returned after such an extended absence. You may change your mind for the better after you hear my words."
Elise pulled the sheet back up over her breasts. Liam sat down next to her. "I did not tell you all there is to know about the sect of vampire I belong to."
"There is nothing you can say that will alarm me. I knew the path I had chosen when I drank from you."
"No," Liam said with a fiery harshness, "You do not know what awaits you today. I have come to warn you of the hours ahead."
Elise met eyes with him; seriousness filled the dreadfully icy room. "Tell me what I need to know, I am listening."
"When you drank my blood you received the reward of a vampire's life. That first taste of blood entitled you to a century of youth and abandon. I did it out of my love for you...but it was a grave mistake. When the century passes, as it does today, you will be devoured and consumed by cravings for several hours."
"What cravings?"
"The cravings I have successfully banished from my existence. Starting very soon, you will begin to yearn for human blood. It will be an insatiable thirst that will be difficult to defeat. You will need me by your side if you are to overcome the temptations."
"Fine, I knew this day would come," Elise said. "Let me gorge on the blood of man. I will do it without regret. Finally, I will have the chance to prove my devotion to you. I am ready, let me do it now!"
"I will not allow it!" Liam barked. "If you kill a man it will be on my conscience until the end of time. I have achieved something no other vampire has done. I have conquered the need for human blood. I thought I'd return one day and teach you how to relinquish the hunger. I've come to realize that this is not something that can be taught. I will not worsen my mistake by allowing you to kill a man because of me."
"And if I do anyway?"
Liam flung the back of his hand at her face. He smacked her with such force that Elise tumbled backward, falling from the bed and slamming onto the hardwood floor. He regretted the outburst immediately. He motioned to pull his hand back as if he could somehow erase the deed.
"I am so sorry," Liam said, "But I was right to come back. For your own protection, you need to be guarded until these cravings pass. If I need to, I will lock you away until you are free from the affliction I have unjustly cast upon you. Please know that I do this out of love alone."
"What will become of me?" Elise cried, clutching her cheekbone. A smear of crimson blood staining her pale skin. Liam's eyes locked onto the mark as a lion's stare fixes a wounded deer.
"By nightfall, you will be free of the poisonous lust which I have infected you with."
"And then?"
"Then you will be free from the gift I gave you."
"Then I will be human again? Is that what you're saying? I do not wish for that at all! I cannot go back to that despicable race."
"You have no choice in this matter."
Elise sat upon the floor, crawled to Liam and placed her hand on his knee. "I need to know. What will happen if I should become human again?"
Liam placed his hand upon her bloodied cheek, "Something that should have happened many years ago... You will find the peace I can never have... You will die...". Liam withdrew his hand and examined the blood on his finger, his eyes cold as ice.
Elise looked up at Liam "Go on, taste it. It's what you want.", she purred seductively.
"Never!" Liam wiped his hand on his pants "This is behind me, forever."
Elise fell forward, her face resting on Liam's knee as she sobbed. "Why do you hate me so?"
Liam's heart melted. He hated the fact that he had changed so drastically from the way he used to be, the way she remembered him. Never would he think of striking a woman in years past, it was a barbaric act for lesser species. He wondered if he was losing his grip. "Please forgive me," he said, gently brushing her hair with his thick fingernails. "All this time apart has taken its toll on me. I am not the vampire you fell in love with so long ago. I have gained moral courage in my attempt to remain abstinent from the blood of man. However, in my haste to see that to fruition, I have spurned those that I love the most. I do not expect your forgiveness for the vile act of striking you. I only hope that in time you will come to see that I do love you more than any words could ever say."
Elise grasped onto his hips, her tears falling freely onto the leg of his pants. "I have already forgiven you. And I do understand... for I too have betrayed a man. I gave this mortal my love and then left him selfishly to be with you. You are not the only one who has forsaken another."
"It is not too late," Liam said. "Tonight, you must go to him."
"Should I return, there will be nothing left of me. Only a shell of what I used to be. He will not even recognize me after I lose my youth. Regardless, I will perish soon thereafter."
"If this man loves you as you say, then no demise can keep you apart. Even I cannot stop the path of absolute love."
Liam eased himself down to join her on the floor. He picked her head up to face him, holding her face still with his hand under her chin. "You think I have eternity to enjoy love... you are greatly mistaken. My existence is one of dread and misery. Loneliness is my only friend. I love you too much to place such doom upon your splendor."
"How much time do we have?" Elise asked, resigned to the die that had been cast.
"Just a few hours. I will stay with you until the sun leaves the sky. Then I will be gone. Before I leave, I will see you safely back to this man you have chosen in my absence. Neither of you need fear me. I swear to you, I will not let harm come to you again."
The ammonia from the freshly scrubbed marble floors wafted through the sanctuary. Dim rays of multi-colored light rocketed through stained-glass windows and splashed onto the oaken pews. The church was small and simple. Its most appealing feature was the oversized golden tabernacle positioned dead-center just above the barren altar.
Father Olsen sat in the front row facing the altar. He was alone, head down and hands folded.
Then, the doors at the rear of the church slammed open. The heavy thud of the doors smashing into the cement walls echoed throughout the church jarring Father Olsen from his prayer. He stood quickly and turned to see a disheveled man in a torn suit moving quickly toward him.
"You a priest? I need a priest!" The man shouted; his white hair tied up into a tight ponytail. His face was filthy, sunken and thin.
"I am a priest," Father Olsen said calmly. He was not in his usual priestly attire this morning. He wore a checkered button-down shirt neatly tucked into his blue jeans. His driver's license said he was in his thirties but could have easily passed for a teenager.
"I imagine you haven't been a priest very long," The man said, clutching a dirty brown briefcase. "I want asylum," The man continued, his squinty blue eyes darting back and forth. "Can you do that? Can you grant me asylum?"
"I can talk to you," Father Olsen said, "But if you've committed a crime, I cannot stop the police from arresting you."
"I've committed no crime," The man said defiantly.
"Then why do you seek asylum?"
The man thought for a moment, his eyes flicking around the church as if he were following the path of a mosquito. "I just want to talk... The apocalypse has come. No one can stop what is going to happen. I just want you to pray for someone. I don't believe in God... I don't believe in anything anymore... But I want you to pray for the only woman I've ever loved. Can you do that?"
"Of course I can."
"I'm so afraid..."
"I understand," Father Olsen said, though he did not fully comprehend what he was dealing with here. "Please try to calm down. Can I get you something to drink?"
"No... I'm fine. I just wanna talk."
"I'm here to help you. Please, sit with me."
The man sat down at the end of the pew, Father Olsen kept some distance but sat down also. "Can you tell me your name?" he asked respectfully.
"Martin," the man said, still clutching the briefcase tight. His knuckles were bare-white as he held onto it for dear life. "Tell me, Father, do you believe in evil?"
Father Olsen sighed, "Unfortunately, I do..."
"You've seen it?"
"Yes, I suppose you can say that. I've witnessed the wickedness of this world."
Martin turned to face the young priest. "And what of other worlds? Have you seen that kind of evil also?"
"Other worlds?" Father Olsen asked, trying his best to remain alert and sympathetic. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"If I need to explain it to you, then you don't know what I'm talking about."
"Perhaps... but how will I know unless you explain. The power of God is great but I cannot read your mind."
Martin whipped his head around to check the rear door. He shot his head from side to side, checking to see that no one else was in the church.
"I assure you," Father Olsen said, "We are quite alone. This church is not like the mall, its rare people just pop in."
"I am in love..." Martin said, his voice trailing off.
"I would presume that would be a good thing."
"Not when you can't have the one you love. I can't have her... Not without consequences... Dire consequences."
"I'm not sure I follow. Can you describe these consequences?"
"I want you to see something," Martin said. Reaching inside his jacket, he produced a black leather wallet. "Here, take it... look inside."
Father Olsen reluctantly accepted the wallet. Flipping it open, he immediately saw the angelic face of a beautiful woman in a small photo. "This is the woman you love?" he asked.
"Yes," Martin said. "That's her."
"If you don't mind me saying, she's very pretty."
Martin reached into his jacket and produced another photo. "This is her also. I took this last week."
Father Olsen looked at the photo, it was the same woman, she appeared no different than the photo in the wallet.
"Take a good look," Martin demanded. "I took this picture last week. You heard me right?"
"Yes, I heard you. You took this picture last week."
"Now look at the picture in my wallet again."
Father Olsen peered down at the wallet, failing to see the point. "Ok... she is still very pretty."
"Look at the date!" Martin yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls.
Father Olsen narrowed his eyes. Then he saw what appeared to be a date scribbled in the bottom corner of the photo in blue ink. The date read: July, 1979.
"That's right," Martin said. "That photo is thirty years old."
"Interesting... Well, if you're right, this woman has aged quite well indeed."
"Don't be stupid, Father, this woman hasn't aged at all."
"I'm confused... What are you saying?"
Martin grabbed the wallet and put it back into his jacket. "I have known her for over thirty years. She is my only love and I would do anything for her. I've watched her in good times and bad, she has given me more love than any man deserves."
"So... What is the problem?"
"The problem is.... Vampires don't age!"
Elise moaned; the unmistakable timbre of sexual delight. At once, supreme satisfaction tingled through her, the penetration of his manhood swelling harder and deeper into her willing and moist aperture. Finding a rhythm, Liam kissed her deeply. Their tongues danced, seductive bliss rocketing through every nerve. They thrust together in a frenetic cadence of aggressive sensuality and freedom, reality lost in the heat of their embrace. Her legs wrapped around his buttocks, ensnaring him in the suffocating grip of anticipation, begging for him to release himself into her.
Arching her back up to feel his chest against her voluptuous breasts, she demanded, "Do it now, I want all of you."
Liam felt his senses heighten, his legs trembling, reckless excitement uncontrollable in its power over him. Panting; he kissed down her cheek, licked her jawbone; guided his tongue to her neck. The eruption building within him screamed for liberation. He opened his mouth wide, his jagged side tooth resting upon Elise's palpating throat. "Do it!" she cried. "Make me your eternal love. Make me like you!"
With all his force, Liam pressed his muscular arms into the bed. Using all his strength, he pushed away from her, breaking her grip. Quickly, he leapt from the bed. "I told you not to tempt me!" he yelled, reaching for his pants on the floor.
"Please don't stop," Elise pleaded, "I'm sorry... please come back to me. Don't leave me this way."
"No," Liam said, zipping his pants up in anger. "This is for your own protection. Get changed. I must feed now, I cannot wait. My hunger will destroy us both."
Elise knew better than to disobey him. It was pointless to continue this charade. For the first time, she felt something she never thought she would; absolute rage toward Liam. She got up, found the rumpled red dress, nylons and panties in the corner and began to change.
He watched her closely as she dressed. After she slipped on her thigh high boots, they put on their winter coats and left the room in silence.
Father Olsen told Martin to meet him at 4:30pm in the rectory. After he explained he had a few hospital visits to make, grudgingly, Martin agreed.
Standing on the stoop, he rang the doorbell. The rectory was a small two-bedroom house which sat adjacent to the old church. The door flew open and Father Olsen, now dressed in black with the traditional Catholic collar around his neck smiled, "Welcome, I'm so glad you came. Please, come in."
Father Olsen led Martin to a dark room just off the kitchen. Martin noticed the smell of fresh roses as soon as he walked in. The room had no windows. The only light came from a beige antique lamp standing on a conservative end table. A wooden rectangular dining table sat in the center of the room. On the table, a bottle of wine and two snifters.
"Please," Father Olsen said, "Sit and talk with me. I'm sorry I had to leave so abruptly earlier. You know how it is, never a moment of rest."
"How are the sick?" Martin asked, setting his briefcase down on the table as he sat.
"What's that? Oh, the sick... yes, they are... well, they are still sick," he laughed.
"That's an odd response," Martin said, not returning the laugh.
Father Olsen sat down at the head of the table, Martin at his side, "A poor attempt at humor, I agree. I mean no disrespect, but there is only so much you can do."
There was a moment of awkward silence. Then, Martin said, "I also mean no disrespect, but I don't think you're the one who can help me. Is there another priest here?"
Ignoring the request, Father Olsen leaned forward and met eyes with Martin, "I believe in God... Do you?"
Martin sighed, "No, I don't. I believe in only what I see."
"You say the woman you love is a vampire. You've seen this? You know it to be true?"
"She left me for another late last night. She left me to go back to one of her own. And yes, I know it to be true."
"Not that I doubt you, because I don't, it is obvious you believe what you're telling me, but do you have evidence of this?"
"I have years and years of observations. I've known for a very long time what she is. I suppose, I was captivated by her beauty, I didn't ever want it to end. I lived out my fantasy in complete denial, pretending not to notice, but deep down, I knew all along."
"What proof do you think you saw?"
Martin's eyes fell; he let out a harsh groan. "She could not be injured."
"I don't understand."
"I noticed it for the first time many years ago. It was my birthday, she sliced her finger while cutting a piece of cake, there was blood everywhere. Later that night, the cut not only had healed, it vanished completely."
"Did you question her?"
"Oh yes... She became enraged, told me never to bring it up again. She told me that if I did, she would leave and never return. So, I let it go, but it was the beginning of my journey."
"Your journey?"
"I've spent the better part of my adult life coming to understand what she is. It has been a heartbreaking existence for me. If I was to accept her love, I had no choice but to accept this eventual fate. I knew one day she'd come to leave me. Now that day has arrived, and I have come to you for help. I have nowhere else to go."
Father Olsen reached for the bottle of red wine, "Would you like a drink?"
"Sure."
"This is my favorite wine," Father Olsen said, pouring a generous portion into a snifter. "Classic French Merlot, it's quite good." He passed a glass to Martin who immediately took a gulp. "Do you like it?"
"Yes... thank you."
"Can I ask you something Martin, Why did you come here?"
"Well, this is a bit embarrassing to admit but I live only a few houses down the road."
"You do? We're neighbors and I've never met you? That is most upsetting."
Martin took another healthy sip of wine, "I'm a bit of a hermit. I make my living as a sculptor and an artist. I pass this old church on the very rare occasion I do go out. Look, I don't blame you if you think I'm nuts. For all I know, maybe I am."
"I never said I didn't believe you."
Martin felt a lump form in his throat, suppressing the tears, he said, "I... just... thought you might be able to help... or at least give me some guidance."
"And I suppose, most of all, you thought God could protect you?" Father Olsen smiled. "Liam was right; you mortals are so very predictable."
Suddenly, Martin felt a shiver go up his spine. He went to move his hand but could not. Numbness washed over him, he couldn't move. "What have you done? Who are you?"
Ripping the collar off from around his neck, Father Olsen laughed, "Liam thought you might come here for help. I wasn't so sure... but he was right. Now, we have you."
Martin tried to speak but was unable. The wine! Something was in the wine!
"That's right, Martin," Father Olsen said, "Don't fight it. I've given you a small dose of a paralytic agent. You are in no harm. In fact, Liam likes you, I like you too. He wants you to do a favor for him, I'm sure you will oblige."
Terror struck Martin like a thousand lightning bolts searing into his soul, his eyes fixed on his captor, his heart racing faster and faster.
"You need to calm down Martin. You are not in any danger, but if you don't calm down you may give yourself a heart attack. I need you to breathe slowly and look into my eyes. Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully..."
Liam ushered Elise into the stretch limousine parked just outside the entrance to the hotel. As the chauffeur held the door open for Elise, she noticed he was albino, white hair and skin, large eyes with pink iris' and deep-red pupils.
"I need to feed," Liam whispered to the chauffeur as he followed Elise into the limo.
They drove westbound through a small rural village that led to a winding narrow road. As traffic dissipated, the chauffeur stepped on the gas. Following the road up a steep incline, the limo banked hard on every sharp turn. Elise noticed the roadway was ascending quickly. She looked to her left and saw the outskirts of a heavily wooded mountain terrain. "Where are you taking me?" she asked.
"It is not where I'm taking you," Liam said. "It is where I'm taking me. You are just along for the ride. Twilight is almost upon us and I am ravenous for the taste of blood. I cannot wait another minute. Victor is our chauffeur; he will guard you while I hunt. I will not be long."
"You think I need a guard?" Elise asked.
Liam looked at his watch, "You will shortly."
Elise was nervous, she found herself picking at her index finger with the nail on her thumb. Her anger was getting to her as she drove her nail deep into the flesh on the side of her finger.
"Be careful," Liam said, pointing to her finger.
Looking down, Elise saw the droplets of fresh blood oozing from the wound on her finger, a wound she created herself without realizing. "It will heal," she said with insolence.
Liam smiled, "No... it won't."
Elise shifted her gaze from Liam back to her finger, expecting to see the cut fully healed. Instead, to her horror, the blood had only gotten worse, flowing from her finger and down into her palm.
Ashamed by this obvious transformation back to mortality, she lifted her finger to her mouth and sucked the blood clean. She didn't notice it at first, but she was salivating, her tongue lapping up every bit of blood available to her. Like a dog thrashing through scraps of rubbish, she savored the discovery of this new flavor.
"It's begun," Liam said. "Don't worry, you can drink your own blood, but that is all."
The limo made a quick turn and slowed down. Victor parked the car about a mile up a dirt trail deep inside the snow-covered woodland.
"I'll be back shortly," Liam said, putting on a pair of snug leather gloves. "If you want the time to go by peacefully, I suggest you sleep. Victor is at your service should you need anything."
"You're just leaving me here?" Elise questioned.
"I will be back soon. Besides, you really should get some rest; we have plans for later this evening. I have a surprise for you."
Liam looked to Victor, "Lock her in!"
With that, Liam left the vehicle and jetted away into the forest at inhuman speed. As Elise watched, his body disappeared amidst the overhanging tree limbs and mounds of snow.
He was gone only a few minutes when the skies opened. A faint distant rumbling preceded the first few drops of snowfall. Elise watched through the window, the flakes gathering intensity, thick and falling fast.
She could feel the wound on her finger pulsate in time with her heartbeat. The pain was something new to her after all these years. She refused to let Victor, Liam, or anyone see that she was in agony. Too much pride still left in her.
Victor adjusted the rear-view mirror; he could clearly see how uncomfortable she was. "Would you like to listen to some music?" he asked in a velvety tenor voice.
Trying to be dignified, Elise nodded, "Thank you, Victor. That would be nice."
He switched on the radio, an easy listening instrumental channel. The sounds of a frugal horn filled the car. Elise recognized the tune; Chuck Mangione's "Feels So Good." It was a song Martin loved. She remembered dancing with him to it once in his study when they had a little too much to drink one night.
"This ok?" Victor asked.
"It'll do," she smiled.
Suddenly, accompanied by the power of the music, Elise felt her pulse race out of control. She gasped as fright overcame her. Her legs shook violently. Her stomach growled. Her head pounded against the side window. She shoved her wounded finger into her mouth and rapidly sucked it dry. Then, her face began to twitch like a rabid hound.
She looked at Victor. Her eyes demented, focused only on his throat, his succulent white skin, his BLOOD!
"It will be over soon," Victor said. "Try to be still. Listen to the music."
"FUCK YOU!" Elise screamed, but it was not her voice. It was the guttural sound of evil. "GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!"
Victor smiled; he heard this voice many times before. It didn't scare him, he knew it would pass. "Try to be still," he said again in a very even tone, raising the volume of the music.
Elise clenched her mouth shut, her eyes full of rage, red and smoky, a stick of dynamite set to explode. Then, she cried out Lucifer's very own words, "I BESEECH YOU, DO NOT TORMENT ME!"
"Isn't this a great song?" Victor said, mockingly dancing in his seat.
Elise flung herself with full force toward Victor only to slam headfirst into the glass partition which separated them.
"Oops!" Victor said, continuing to sway. "That couldn't have felt good."
"I CURSE YOU TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL!"
"Sorry to burst your bubble," Victor said. "You're a little late. That happened a long, long time ago."
Elise rolled over onto the floor of the limo, panting, searching, craving the blood of man. With no options left to her, Elise shot from the floor like a cannon back to her seat. Crouching like a wolf on all fours, she dug her teeth into the rubbery leather beneath her. Like a fanatical beast sent from an unholy inferno of despair, she tore apart everything she could bite into. Chunks of cushion, vinyl and metal flew this way and that. Her hunger insatiable and unadulterated, the limo rocking with sadistic fury.
Victor calmly lit a cigarette, observing her tantrum with the amusement of a schoolboy. "Knock yourself out, crazy lady... knock yourself out." Lunging for Victor again, she crashed her forehead into the glass partition and did just that.
Victor let out a huge belly-laugh as her eyes rolled over white. She moaned, reached for her head, wobbled and fell unconscious to the floor.
An hour had passed, maybe two, maybe five. Elise couldn't tell. The night vision she enjoyed as a vampire was suddenly gone. As she gathered herself off the floor, she noticed the dark of night flooding into the back of the limousine. It was black, the way mortals saw it, draining and vacant. As a vampire she basked in the glow of the moonlight, the dark was never sinister, the nighttime held no gloom. Now, it was over. Her dress ripped, her head pounding, the back of the limo completely destroyed. She knew what had happened. Elise was human again.
Enveloped by approaching nightfall, she remembered her first night with Liam. The night he consecrated her with the gift of his blood. She thought back to how the twilight made her feel on that very first evening. There was an orgasmic euphoria that would always explode through her when she remembered the bliss of newfound vampire darkness.
It was the early evening of January 20th, 1911. Elise was a mature looking seventeen year old. She was standing on the corner of a New York City block, she couldn't remember exactly where. Henry Ford's new Model-T automobile was all the rage. She watched in awe as a shiny black one beeped its horn and passed through a bustling crowd milling around the boulevard.
Elise had a newspaper in hand when Liam first approached her. "What are you reading?" he asked politely, adjusting his top hat and smiling broadly.
"A story about Eugene B. Ely," she answered.
"Oh yes. He landed on the deck of the USS Pennsylvania a couple of days ago."
"You heard already?"
"It is the first time an aircraft has landed on a ship. Quite a remarkable feat."
Elise buried her face back into the newspaper. She was shy; suddenly embarrassed by the attention this handsome stranger paid her.
"Why are you talking to me?' she asked, not trying to be rude, although it came out that way.
"If you prefer not to talk, I will walk away."
"No," Elise said, more quickly than she intended. "I don't mind."
Liam forced himself not to stare at her long neck. He wanted her desperately. "What would you say if I told you I could grant you eternal love?"
Elise laughed, "I would say you are insane. I'm not sure I believe in love at all. I cannot fathom the thought of such a thing being eternal."
"I know we have only just been acquainted, but I will be honest, I am truly captivated by your loveliness. May I be so bold as to offer you some dinner? I am in town only for a day or two. I would be honored to have your company. It may not be eternity just yet, but I promise you a delicious meal."
Elise smiled as Liam held out his arm. And just like that, off they went.
Later that night, after dinning on rare steak and red wine, Elise experienced the most extreme lovemaking she would ever know. Into the night, their bodies designed the most fervent ballet of sexual enchantment, a metrical thrusting of forbidden pleasures and lustful fulfillment. They were deep in the throes of passion when Liam pressed his teeth deep into her neck. Completely captivated and under his spell, he then directed her to bite into his chest.
She was a puppet on his string, lost in the ecstasy of his touch and losing all sense of awareness. "Let me take away your pain." Liam whispered. "Drink from me and have eternal life, eternal beauty... eternal love."
With her teeth sinking deeper into the cavity of his warm chest, her lips covered in the stain of fresh blood, she passed out and remembered no more.
When she awoke, he explained who he was and what had happened. He vowed that if she remained faithful to him, he would return one day granting her the prize of everlasting life and love.
The memory of that experience would always cause Elise to smile. However, now, in this moment, there was no happiness. Was it possible that the years apart turned the whole episode into a fantasy that was never real at all? Did she concoct a make-believe love story in her head? It was too depressing to think about. She was too angry, consumed by a growing hatred toward Liam for what he had done. In her mind, which was now flooded with the reason of a long dormant human brain, he had unjustly betrayed her.
Jarred back to reality, she heard his voice.
"It is finished," Liam said. "You are one with me no more."
Stunned by his presence, Elise spun around and saw him sitting right behind her in the corner of the badly wrecked limousine.
"I thought I loved you," Elise said. "I believed every word you said to me."
"You feel deceived and mislead. I understand."
"No you don't," she said, tears in her eyes.
"If I didn't love you, I would gladly give you eternity. You think that is what you want, but what you seek is only an illusion, a myth. I will not corrupt you again."
"So you would have me die?"
"There are fates far worse than death," Liam said, staring out the window, "Death is but a cavern you will pass right through. When you emerge on the other side you will finally see the truth. It is something I have only heard of and something I cannot explain. You must see it for yourself. I love you enough to let you leave me. All I can offer you in the end is sorrow."
Elise cried openly. "I was once a child full of hope until you took it all from me... How did it come to this?" she wept.
Silence.
Stillness.
There was no more to say.
"We are ready now," Liam said to Victor. "Take us to our final destination. Drive quickly; I fear there is not much time."
Martin had fallen into a drug-induced slumber, his arms and legs now bound with thick rope. His captor tied him up and carried him to a sitting room where he was thrown on a worn-out lime green couch. The walls surrounding the small space were absorbed by rows and rows of shelves. Books by the hundreds were stacked neatly next to antiquated knick-knacks, sloppily placed collectibles and a few pictures of saints.
After an hour or so, some sensation returned to Martin and he began to feel the rope digging into his ankles. He was weary and maddened, his thoughts still transfixed on the glass of wine. How could he have been so stupid?
"What's... your... real name?" Martin managed to ask.
"My name is Olsen, I didn't lie. Sorry to say though, I'm not a priest."
Martin opened his eyes, the room before him was blurry but he could see. Olsen was sitting comfortably next to him in a folding chair. He was chugging down a longneck. "Ah, that's good. I love the imported brands. You drink beer?"
"On occasion," Martin mumbled.
"I love the shit," Olsen said, reading the name on the label. "Cerveza Impotada, product of Mexico. What in the hell is a house full of American priests doing with imported Mexican beer? Isn't a nice cold Bud good enough anymore? Shit, even priests are getting all fancy schmancy these days."
"What did you to do to them?"
"The priests? Oh... well, let's just say they didn't fare as well as you."
"You disgust me!"
"That's kind of you to say. Try not to be so rude to Liam though. I'm not so sure he would take that as a compliment."
"Who's Liam?"
"My mentor. He should be arriving any minute. He knows you quite well, even though you've never met."
Martin had a million questions but didn't know where to begin.
"You seem puzzled," Olsen said. "Allow me to fill in the blanks. You were right, Elise was indeed a vampire. See, you're not that crazy after all. However, she will not be one for very long. In fact, you need to be well-prepared for the night ahead of you. Elise will age dramatically overnight. Her body will not be able to withstand the sudden onslaught of old age... she will perish before sunrise. I have to warn you. It may be an extremely grotesque sight. The favor Liam wants from you is rather simple." Olsen took another sip of beer and leaned in closer, the aroma of hops and alcohol thick on his breath. "Give Elise the reward of dying in the arms of a man who loves her. Liam is not like the rest of us, he has a soft spot for you mortals. Excuse the pun, but he's a vampire with a heart. He would be very upset if she were to die alone. According to Liam, there is no greater sorrow than dying alone. He wishes for you to be with her when she leaves this world."
"And... then what?"
"Then go back to your life. Do this service and you will be free of any obligation to Liam."
Martin felt a rush of adrenaline, his eyesight suddenly less blurry. Resentment coursed through him as he spoke. "Why should I owe this man anything?"
"Well, first of all, he is not a man. Second, you will owe him for the rest of your life. He allowed you to take companionship with one of his own, a woman he deeply loves. You are rather fortunate. Be grateful he hasn't killed you many times over. Trust me, I've seen what he can do... it ain't pretty."
"Perhaps it is you that should be afraid. A man with nothing to lose fears little."
Olsen smiled, "Hence the fact that you are still tied up."
"Release him!" shouted Liam, standing just beyond the entrance to the room, Elise and Victor next to him.
"My Master," Olsen said, almost dropping his beer as he popped to his feet.
"Untie him this instant," Liam ordered. "This man has done nothing wrong. I will not see him bound like an animal."
Olsen quickly undid the knots and freed him. Eager to sit up straight, Martin moved too fast and the room spun, dizziness and nausea ran through him.
"Take it slow, my friend," Liam said, sitting down in Olsen's folding chair. "Elise, the time has come for you to go to your mortal love."
Victor escorted her to the couch, motioning for her to sit down next to Martin. Elise found it difficult to walk, her legs cramping up with every step. She had lost maybe twenty pounds in the last hour, her face wrinkled and aging with every passing second. She was ashamed, unable to look Martin in the eyes when she said, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
"There is no reason to apologize," Martin said. "I knew this moment would come. It is the price that must be paid for blind devotion."
"My Master," Olsen said. "There was some trouble last night when I arrived here."
"Casualties?" Liam asked.
"It could not be avoided. Three priests."
"Where are the bodies?"
"In the tub. I was wondering... If we have time, and with your permission of course... May I feed?"
Liam sighed, "Fine... take Victor with you, he must be hungry also."
Unable to suppress their joy, Victor and Olsen marched off toward the bathroom like two kids in a candy store.
As soon as Elise heard the bathroom door slam, she looked at Liam, "You are nothing but a hypocrite."
"I've been called worse."
"You claim to have conquered the lust for human blood, and yet, the very servants under your charge are devouring the flesh of man as we speak."
"I cannot alter the destiny of every vampire. I can only be responsible for my own actions."
"It is clear that the action you have chosen is to do nothing. The bodies of three men are being desecrated under your watch. You have the power to stop it and you won't. That makes you no better than them... In fact, you are the most sinister of all, masking yourself in the disguise of self-righteousness and erroneous pride."
"I will forgive your comments," Liam said with calm measured words. "It is not for you to judge me, no mortal has that privilege." His eyes turned to Martin, "Do you love this woman?"
"Of course I do," Martin said.
"Then stay with her until the sun rises."
Martin looked at Elise, her newly wrinkled face rapidly descending into old-age. "It will be my honor to stay with her," Martin said. "Elise will be my love until the end of time."
"So be it," Liam said.
Standing up, he shouted, "Olsen! Victor! We must take our leave."
They emerged from the bathroom, a fresh coat of wet blood falling from their lips, dripping from their chins. Victor and Olsen stood at attention behind their mentor, arrogant warriors of the night.
The room fell to darkness, cold air rushed in, the scent of death all around them. Liam looked down at Elise one last time. "I will always love you."
Suddenly, a blinding white light filled the room, Liam chanted at the top of his lungs as a swirling wind encircled him, "DIABOLUS INCARNATE! DIABOLUS INCARNATE!" Latin words which meant: DEVIL IN THE FLESH!
Suddenly, a dozen angels of the dark prince appeared out of nowhere. Thrashing about, they whipped their tails in a frenzied chaos, their skeletal faces and aberrant red eyes tormented by the shame of a billion years. Spinning around the room, flashing broken wings and disfigured cadavers, they encased Liam and his servants in a ball of fire and smoke.
Then, they were gone.
"I have done a great injustice to you," Elise said, her voice thick and raspy. "I deserve to die alone. Do not feel obligated to stay with me. Liam will never know if you choose to leave."
"I will stay with you," Martin said. "Not because Liam has directed me to do so. I will stay because I want to, because I care for you. I had always dreamed of growing old with you. And you have aged exactly as I thought you would, growing lovelier with every passing moment. You have always been, and are still, the most beautiful woman in the world to me."
"I do not wish to die this way. My body will decompose before your eyes. If you wish to preserve me any dignity, you will kill me now."
Martin saw the desperation in her eyes. "Wait here," he said.
He left the room and went to the kitchen. Still sitting on the table was his briefcase. Returning to the couch, he held it on his lap. Opening it, he took out a large prescription bottle filled with pills.
"I will not kill you, but these are sleeping pills," Martin said. "I have been saving them for me. There are more than enough here for the both of us. If we finish the bottle, this will all be over. When we awake, we will have left this world behind."
Martin poured a handful of pills into his hand. Elise opened her palm and accepted them. Taking a deep breath, she placed the first pill next to her lips.
"Go ahead," Martin said. "I will join you when you are fast asleep."
A single tear formed and trickled down her cheek.
Then, with all the courage left in her, she threw the pills to the floor. "I cannot do it. I won't."
Martin remained silent.
"Not even Liam knows what the morning will bring," Elise said. "If I am to die, I will go when my life has run out. Whether it be an hour or a day, I want you to hold me for whatever time we have been given."
Martin smiled, "I do love you so."
"I know you do," Elise said. "And I love you..."
He wrapped his arms around her, comforting her body in the warmth of his embrace. Elise beamed with a fresh radiance, finally feeling the peace of contentment she had searched a lifetime for. After a century of waiting for the wrong man, her craving had been satisfied. The eternal love she always wanted was there all along.
They held each other through the night, the thought of sunrise not far from their minds.
== THE END ==
Sample Chapter
Dmitri sat back in his well-cushioned green recliner and peered through the large northwest window. He was alone, sitting just off the main parlor on the first floor of the Imperial Citadel.
It was early morning and the sun of the north was beginning to rise. A light drizzle fell gently across the window pane. The rains had greatly diminished from the storm of the night before.
Dmitri sat in his light brown royal uniform, watching the rain subside and the sun grow. He could not help but admire its purity, its simplicity, an innocence he once treasured.
This place---ah this place; home to so many. The Imperial Citadel sat atop the largest mountaintop on Stritonoly. The people called it Mount Crito. Fat black cement columns, monstrous in density and depth, stood side by side and spread out all around the outskirts. The citadel itself was enormous, reaching up some twelve stories. Spires thrust defiantly towards the sky, while graceful arches and curves swept outwards, blending into the forests and rock of the mountain beneath.
The octagonal orange bricks used in the design of the citadel were shipped from factories very near the outermost edges of the galaxy---places no mortal man would ever go. Slave workers from a nearby moon were sent to retrieve these bricks almost five hundred years ago. The slave workers, commonly known as the acidel, were capable of withstanding the rigors of space flight at speeds no human could ever endure.
Acidel slaves were flexible creatures with beige wrinkled skin, much like a rubber band. The acidel were also very, very small. In fact, so small that a normal sized human could easily walk over them without even knowing. And that did happen from time to time. Dmitri had stepped over, and sometimes stepped on them a few times himself.
Acidel babies were born no bigger than the tip of a human finger. By the time they were teenagers most had achieved their full stature The tallest of the acidel would grow no higher than the waistline of an adult human, the large majority only reached up to about knee level. And although they did not have great height, their weight was a different story. A typical acidel weighed in excess of a hundred pounds. For a creature so small, they were, well... they were fat!
The most curious thing about the acidel was that their faces were identical. They all had the same large bald heads, sullen, droopy cheeks and wide circular eyes. They also dressed in the same white robes, black belts and brown sandals. There were times when it was virtually impossible to tell them apart.
As Dmitri pushed away the long red hair from his forehead, he sat up straight and reached for a piece of white cloth he had in his pants pocket. He brushed his hair into a tight knot behind his head and wrapped it with the cloth making a neat ponytail. Seeing his reflection in the window, he took note of the white cloth wrapped around such straight cherry red hair. He thought it made for a look of remarkable nobility. He wished his features were more mature. He still had the look of a child, a look he despised.
His blue eyes began to burn as he forced himself not to blink at the emerging light from the sunrise. This magnificent sunrise reminded Dmitri of his youth. He was born on this planet nineteen years ago, and was born into nobility. He had achieved great knowledge and learned everything there was to know about this planet; a world of extreme wealth and fortune. It was not a large planet but there were many small towns and outlying communities that stretched out in sparse patches across the many mountains and valleys.
Stritonoly was called the purple mountain planet and it was home to many creatures of the universe. The population of the entire planet never grew much larger than two-hundred thousand---half of that number being of human descent.
From space, an observer could clearly see high mountains and vast areas of purple land covering Stritonoly. There were very few water basins. But they did have one of the largest rivers in this sector of the galaxy. The River Frehenly flowed through several towns on the southern side of the planet. The citadel sat on the northern side so it was necessary for laborers to deliver water from the river to the citadel several times a week. The river itself spanned some forty miles as it swept past the citadel above. It was the main sightseeing attraction of the planet for visitors and residents alike.
Stritonoly's massive wealth came exclusively from the beautiful purple rocky surface that covered almost all the planet. This rocky surface was called purock. The majority of the population of Stritonoly were employed by the citadel as artists and designers. The purock, once it was detached from the ground, became a sight of extreme splendor. The purock was then sculpted by trained artists into works of stunning beauty. The practice of sculpting purock into artistic designs began nearly four hundred years ago. The artworks quickly became popular and were sought after by every significant empire in the galaxy. The rocky artwork was sold to planets all over the universe for incredibly large sums of currency. As the demand increased, so did the price. There seemed to be an unquenchable lust for owning the finest purock art Stritonoly could produce.
All human children on Stritonoly, who were not of nobility, were schooled in only two subjects: religious doctrine and art. They were provided the very best instruction in mixed media, layering and texture painting, beginning through advanced pastel interpretation, sculpting, etching, realist painting in oils and acrylic, dyeing, watercolor and of course the specific art of using these techniques on the purock itself.
The best part about the purock was that as soon as it was cut away from the surface, it would grow back just as fast. So there was always an endless supply of the material from which Stritonoly drew its finances.
Dmitri stood slowly, never taking his eye from the sun. He raised an arm and snapped his fingers.
Three acidel scampered into the room. Two immediately went for Dmitri's shoelaces and tied them quickly. The third acidel was Barok, leader of the slave workers.
The acidel maintained a very busy schedule as it was their job to cut away the purple rocky surface daily and prepare it for artists to render the material into a work worthy of selling at an enormous profit. This profit was due in large part to the fact that the acidel were slaves bound to this planet. They received no payment for their work assignments, only a home, residency in the rear of the citadel was their only reward for their tireless labor. They knew how to do their job well. Failure to do so would result in severe beatings and public humiliation.
"Master Dmitri," Barok said, "Will your sister be joining us?"
Barok spoke in a husky baritone growl, not at all befitting his tiny size. All the acidel had the same mono-tonality in their speech patterns. Dmitri had long since grown accustomed to this uniquely low sound, but if you were to hear them for the first time, it was a most annoying noise indeed.
"I love the morning," Dmitri replied. His soft voice completely ignoring the question Barok asked. "The morning here has such a peacefulness," Dmitri breathed. "I have not been able to find this peace anywhere... except here. This moment is a gift, I suppose."
Barok adjusted his robe collar, somewhat uncomfortable and fearful to respond. "Yes, Master Dmitri, it seems to be a beautiful morning."
Dmitri turned from the window and faced Barok: "I have no idea what my sister will be doing this morning. But I will be seeing her tonight. Oh yes, I will definitely be seeing her tonight."
"I understand," Barok said, as he flashed the customary acidel hand signal - one stubby finger placed upon his rubbery brow. This hand signal sent the two other workers scurrying away.
"With your permission," Barok continued, "I was wondering if I may be so bold as to ask a question, Master."
"Ask me your question, my dear Barok." Dmitri said. His voice was always so soothing, too soothing, as if he were hiding something of great importance. It reminded Barok of the rolling rapids on The River Frehenly in the springtime. No doubt an amazing wonder to observe from afar, but get too close and you risk falling victim to its deceptive splendor. Then you will most certainly be swept away by its force.
Taking several mechanical steps toward Dmitri, Barok continued, "I have heard strange things, Master. I have heard rumblings that our position here is... well, not what it appears to be. I know of our assignment for later this morning and I have a terrible concern things are not in order."
Dmitri smiled slowly. "Is anything what it appears to be at first glance? I have found that situations usually appear to be something they are not. When you gaze at a star, do you actually see a star? No, you see but a memory of what used to be."
"I am not sure. What does my master mean?" Barok swallowed. "I... do not understand. Does my master have a point? I seem to be missing it entirely."
"I would not waste even a second of time worrying about such nonsense." Dmitri turned sharply away from the window, and said: "I never worry about anything. There is no reason to." He made his way unhurriedly toward the door. Barok followed close behind.
Strolling casually from the room, the two entered the main parlor. This was the center of the citadel, and it offered a sumptuous display of all the finer things this planet had to offer. Narrow stalks of the yellow pipetu plant trailed up the side of every wall, their sweet fragrance filling the room. Several triangular windows allowed the north sun to shine through, splashing light upon the row of peculiar black serpents etched upon the freshly scrubbed white marble floor.
A gong hung atop a stony ledge just above the foyer. With the acidel hand signal, Barok summoned the workers to activate the sound. A moment later the gong sounded, although no one touched it. This was just one of the many tasks the acidel could perform using simple telepathic powers.
While they did not possess the mind bending characteristics or skills of most outer galaxy tribes, they were able to perform simple acts of labor when conditioned properly. This type of work could be accomplished only if taught to them by a human presence, preferably someone of considerable intelligence. The higher the level of intelligence a human possessed, the greater the task the acidel could perform, within reason, of course. The more confidence a human had in his own actions, the better the acidel could perform.
The front gates opened seconds after the gong sounded. As Dmitri slowly made his way past the gates, he paused to observe the morning dew. As he did, Barok clumsily smashed the top of his bald rubbery head into Dmitri's buttocks.
Embarrassed by this lack of concentration, Barok quickly retreated and repositioned himself directly behind his master. Dmitri suppressed a chuckle as best he could.
Over a thousand acidel waited outside the front gates. They stretched out in several straight lines just outside the entryway.
"Welcome to your day," a scratchy tenor voice said. It was the unmistakable articulation of Ethan Educai, the royal instructor and protection supervisor for the royal kindred. He always greeted Dmitri with these words, no matter what his mood.
Ethan had spent his whole life in the pursuit of knowledge. He was not a big man and had the look of an exhausted elder warrior after battle. The robe he wore today was navy blue. His eyes of steel peered out from beneath a floppy hood. The long flowing white beard complemented an educated but tired demeanor.
Ethan had seen the horrors of what his knowledge might bring.
Great knowledge eventually falls prey to even greater consequences, Ethan thought. There are things no human need ever know in this lifetime.
Dmitri continued to smile as Ethan nodded his head. No words were necessary to convey what appeared to be a simple hello between two men so close.
"It's a nice morning," Ethan said flatly, not a hint of excitement in his tone. The icy, matter-of-fact manner in which Ethan delivered his welcome left Dmitri angered.
Dmitri specifically told Ethan how he wished to be greeted on this morning. Ethan was not being as friendly or cooperative as Dmitri had hoped.
"Is it a nice morning?" Dmitri said rhetorically before answering himself, "Yes... now that you mention it, I suppose it is." And with a sudden turn away from his mentor, he withdrew his smile.
Barok sensed the disturbance immediately. This would not be a nice morning at all. His perception suggested that a storm unlike any other approached, one that he may even be able to stop, but would not. The storm of the night before was nothing compared to what was in store for this planet today.
Suddenly, a commotion from inside the citadel.
An abrupt roar was followed by a woman screaming, sounds of distress and confusion.
With a flurry of movement, Ethan grabbed Dmitri and flung him to the ground.
"You'll not see the end of this!" Ethan howled, standing over Dmitri.
Two imperial soldiers ran toward the conflict, unsure of whom to protect.
Hordes of acidel streamed out the front gates, yelling wildly in their deep growl.
As he drew his knife, Ethan locked his stare on Dmitri, ever more aware of the wailing cries emerging from just inside the gates.
Dozens of soldiers in battle fatigues quickly descended from all directions. They wore green and black masks, solid black riot gear with serpents shining on their shields and weaponry. Steel blades upon their jagged swords caught the glare of sunlight, and they glistened with a powerful brilliance.
"Get away from here at once!" Dmitri shouted, standing and simultaneously shoving the two imperial soldiers away. Adjusting his uniform, he focused all his energies onto Ethan. "All of you soldiers, be gone! This is not your concern!"
"Master Dmitri," Barok implored, "Please, do not be foolish!"
With an overly-confidant arrogance, Dmitri drew his royal sword. "This is my home, I took a vow to protect it!"
"That is true," Ethan said. "And I took a vow to protect you!"
"Do you still intend to keep your vow?" Dmitri snickered.
"It is a solemn vow...But...I..." Ethan staggered for a moment. Losing his balance, he felt suddenly short of breath. Clutching his chest, he crumbled to the ground.
Ah yes, Dmitri smiled. The poison...The poison is finally working.
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Sample Chapter
17 Aevum OblivioDeliberate Misunderstandings
Deliberate Misunderstandings
It began with a mushroom cloud.
Clawing its way into the sky on the horizon - an image burned black into the retinas of racial memory. We learned about Hiroshima. We saw the tests which blew all those coral atolls to dead white shards. We even watched those soldiers at Trinity, marching into the fallout with bolt-action rifles and cigarettes.
But while some people were writing protest songs, others were calculating yields and blast radii. Build a button, and a finger will find it. Every time.
The warbirds came skimming in on two separate vectors -- some spearing down from space, others clipping the wavetops at twelve times the speed of sound. Each one was a flattened ovoid, a cuttlebone of chromed foam-metal powered by solid-fuel rockets. Ahead, sharp and clear in the equatorial sun, loomed their target.
It was a mountain of cerametal and foamed concrete, a white and crystalline shape of geometric domes and towers. Above the city -- the Terminus -- rose a single metal-bright stamen, a wire coiled out tight into the vault of heaven.
That was what these warbirds were here to cut down.
Up above, where the space elevator blurred into the haze of the stratosphere, vast explosions bloomed in silence, each one challenging the light of the sun. Ships were dying up there, fighting for control of an asteroid the size of Manhattan island, its nickel-iron core scooped out and replaced with machinery and marble.
The blow which severed the bridge to space would fall here, though. The Old Democracies knew what their Secessionist enemies valued, and with this hammer-strike they'd shear off the link to the factory-kombinant world of Mars.
It was all on record. It was all filed away neat and clean, clinically removed from the grim mechanics of detonation and air shock, the actinic flash which painted human beings across the walls of the Terminus as shadows...
"They're through the satellite shield! They're through the shield! - Four missiles are past the gridline and are closing on our location..."
THIS IS NOT A DRILL - ALL INVESTORS WITH GRADE NINE CLEARANCE OR ABOVE PROCEED TO THE CRYONICS LEVEL IMMEDIATELY - REPEAT, TACTICAL COMMAND, INVESTORS OF GRADE NINE AND ABOVE REPORT TO CRYONICS IN SUB-BASEMENT ONE-OH-THREE IMMEDIATELY
"Interceptors have been launched, General. Those Antiseparatists can't have scramblers in their warbirds hot enough to get through to the Terminus. I'm sure we can stand down the Cryonics techs."
"General, this is Space-Lev tower control! The Counterweight's been hit with a gamma burst! Sweet Jesus, they're all dead! And interceptor control..."
PLEASE REMAIN CALM. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. INCOMING NUCLEAR PROJECTILES HAVE BEEN DETECTED. WORKERS AND MILITARY PERSONNEL ARE ADVISED TO REPORT TO THEIR DESIGNATED SHELTERS. INVESTORS OF CLEARANCE GRADE NINE AND ABOVE PLEASE REPORT TO THE CRYONICS LEVEL FOR SAFETY PROCESSING
"'Ceptor twenty-five has scored a direct hit! We've got three still hot, 'Ceptors closing ...Oh God, they're getting jammed! We have countermeasures live! General, sequester the machine! We have to neutralize that ice!"
"Kronos, this is General Nathan Merrick, access number three-nine-six-two-alpha-hotel-bravo. Generate Executive command..."
NUCLEAR IMPACT IMMINENT
INTERCEPTORS COMPROMIZED
(Whiteout. EMP static -- assumed tactical nuclear detonation of not less than three megatons)
(Explosions, screaming. Recording compromised for three point six minutes)
"uuuuhhh -- General Merrick? MacAllister? Oh, God! The water's coming in! ... save us! You have to hear this... you have to do something! So much blood! Always the blood, dammit...(coughing) stupid, stupid... Jesus, Dean! Oh, Christ, his FACE! He's... And the guts all hangin' out....
(crying, manic laughter, thirty-nine seconds)
Stupid monkey bastards! Why are we so...(coughing) So foolish. Such a waste. Please - If anyone can hear this, you have to save us! We're trapped down here! I...I hope those Anti-Sep bastards are happy! Shouldn't...shouldn't get their bloody hands on this place. Don't deserve it. WE don't deserve it (coughing, choking). One day. Oneday maybe. Maybeone... (labored breathing, choking) Dumb bastards. Wh..."
(Silence - Two minutes thirty seconds)
"This is Kronos, General. Executive Order Accepted. Calculating Parameters for Task 'Save Us'. Projected run time...nine thousand, two hundred and forty two years, six days, three hours. Please input abort code to cancel."
(Silence - Two minutes thirty seconds)
"Executive Order Instigated. Have a nice day."
That was the key. That was the tipping point.
But for a certain alien Technician, scrabbling through the memories of an insane A.I. Tyrant, it was no real consolation to have found it.
His one-time mentor - the Hierophant of the Multiplicity who gave him his commission -- well, that gnarly old entity stood hunched over him now, infected and mind-raped by a sequestrating disease. His idea of discipline wasn't a sternly worded memo anymore.
Nyl's hand was swollen to three times its normal size, and it connected with the side of Zhe's unarmored skull like a concrete wrecking ball, lifting him from his feet and powering him across the treadplate in a ragdoll slide. Cold metal grated against his cheek.
"Such a conscientious little slave!" crooned Nyl, stalking toward him, nine feet of towering menace robed in black. "There's nothing in those memories that can stop me! The Praetor Himself couldn't stop me now!"
Zhe spat out a mouthful of yellow blood as he rose to his knees.
"Don't be a fool, Nyl." he rasped "That disease is in your brain. It's taken you over!"
Nyl reached out to hammer him down with his immense claw, but stopped at the top of his backswing.
"Am I a Technician mated to a Slavesystem controlling an unknown virus, or a virus with the body of a hybrid Technician?"
He frowned, looking up at the shifting, insectile surface of that great thorny hand. Then it came down hard, swatting Zhe to the floor with a sickening crunch.
"With this kind of power, I don't care what you call me! Soon this entire planet will become part of me as well. More neurostrata! More minds caged within! It all extends the domain of my godhood!"
Zhe groaned, trying once again to move. It was taking nearly all of his will just to keep his body together, valency bond generators working deep in the red.
Suddenly Nyl stopped, his head held up as though he'd caught the scent of prey. The red glow of the memory cubes underlit his features, making him seem even more demonic.
"My thralls approach," he whispered. "Best that I shed this skin... we wouldn't want to frighten the little bastards!"
Scales spun, prismatic. Bones slid and socketed, while flesh bulged, hissed, deflated, stretched tight...
Within an instant Zhe was looking at the figure of a robed magus - undoubtedly human, his blank and blazing eyes all that hinted at the creature within.
"It's time to get to work," said Nyl, running his hands through his new mane of silvery gray hair. "Remember to keep silent when they arrive, Zhe. We wouldn't want any accidents -- would we?"
The light upshifted, from crimson to yellow to blinding white. Vast machineries ground beneath the floor, raising a platform the size of a football field up on cogs like bucket-wheel excavator scoops.
"Come to me, children! We've got a world to dominate!"
As he blacked out, Zhe reflected that this was really not one of his better days. In fact, it was almost as bad as the night he watched in a fragment of his mirror-crazed mind; the focus of his investigation.
Lord Arbitrex Galq would be pleased to know that he was so diligent in his research, but the sad fact was that Zhe was being shown what happened seventeen years ago. Chrome steel hooks of code pried open his mind and poured the memories in.
There was a reason they called this new age the Aevum Oblivio. It was much worse than the reason they called the age before it the Arbitrium Mundi -- the world's judgment.
In the end, both of them came down to that one executive order, maliciously misunderstood.
But the last one -- the big one -- the night of the Exodus and the Fall... that was under Nyl's watch. Perhaps, just perhaps, there'd be something in the memories of Kaito Kayzi and Kronos to damn the renegade to a hell far worse than anything these primitive meatsacks could dream up...
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