Son of the Serpent

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Son of the Serpent Page 11

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega


  I clenched my jaw so tight it hurt, infuriated by his indifferent manner.

  I knocked him to the ground with my tail. “Next time do not keep anything from me!”

  He rubbed his side where I had struck him and glowered. “From this point forward I shall be an open book,” he grumbled, his voice taut.

  I grabbed his arm and pulled him up from the ground. He resumed leading us to our hiding place. I continued observing this new world, trying to rid myself of the dark thoughts and feelings that continued to haunt me, especially those of my son.

  The landscape was dreamlike and eerie, made up of thousands of odd, white, conical hills, ranging in height but so regular in shape that they appeared unnatural. The sky was white with a hint of pink, and only the subtle hint of color differentiated it from the landscape. There was no contrast between the ground, landscape, and sky. Everything was bright and blinding—and clear. There were no shadows to blur the ugliness of my companions, their astonishing hideousness displayed with great clarity.

  Sila’s skin was blue like the plumage of a peacock. Her head was bald and smooth. Her face, however, was exquisite. She was neither wholly spiritual nor flesh, rather something in between. She had no male or female organs; she was truly asexual in her demon form, and I knew this was the part of her natural form she hated most.

  Gremory was black-faced and black-bodied, his lower half that of a giant gray wolf. His head was round and long, his thick, silvery-gray hair growing only down the center of his scalp from the forehead to the nape of the neck. His ears were large and pointed, and he had long, sharp, canine teeth.

  Asmodeus was worst of all. His head was twice the size of a human head, and his vivid green hair made it look even bigger. Each strand of his hair was a tubular organism the diameter of an index finger, with a round mouth with rows of teeth at the free end. The hairlike creatures writhed and coiled, especially when they wanted to be fed. If food was not provided for them, they would feed on Asmodeus’s head, and their meal of choice was eyeballs. Worst of all, he had a red visage, like Satan’s, and six massive horns, three on each side of his face. They curved toward each other and connected in the center of his face, like interlocked fingers in front of his eyes, a sort of mask. I loathed looking at him, for in this form he reminded me of my son and of Satan.

  Asmodeus led us to an immense calcium structure facing a coast. “We must swim to an underwater tunnel. This tunnel shall take us to a cave that connects to a cavern deep inside the mountain.”

  The stunning white structure touched the sky and looked like a mountain of hardened foam. The strange ocean was magenta, and in the middle of it was a gaping hole.

  “How do you know of such a cave?” Gremory asked, pinching his nose as he often did when processing thoughts.

  Asmodeus frowned at him. “I told you, I have been here before.”

  Gremory watched as the surf rushed into the gaping sinkhole and then burst upward with great force. He flinched at the explosive sound. “This seems rather dangerous.”

  I motioned for Gremory and Sila to come closer. “Asmodeus has brought us this far. Why should we doubt him now?” I said. “There is no turning back. He is the only one of us who knows where we are. We must trust in each other now, for we are in quite a vulnerable state, and we have only each other to depend on.”

  Gremory and Sila glanced at each other. They tipped their heads and we followed Asmodeus into the ocean, keeping as far away from its opened mouth as possible.

  We swam through the tunnel to a hollow that led to the cavern in the white mountain. I thought it would have been dark inside, but it was as bright as it had been over land. The walls of the cave were smooth and white, and our reflection on this surface was clear and noticeable. My eyes, opened or closed, could not escape this intense white light, and everywhere I looked I saw a grotesque, visceral form or its reflection. Whenever I closed my eyes to avoid the repulsiveness, my son’s face appeared, and once more his heartache, pain, and sorrow were my own.

  This is where we would wait out the flood. Sure, we would survive the flood, but would we survive this world and the trials that awaited us?

  Chapter 9

  VESSEL

  Gadreel and I hurried by foot to the city of Shuruppak. When we arrived at the gates, she halted.

  “Why have we stopped?” I asked.

  “It is best if we split up,” she said. “The two of us together may attract too much attention.”

  “I will not leave without you.” I moved closer to her, but she shoved me away.

  “You are not abandoning me. I simply have to find a different way in. Go now. Enter the city and possess one of the animals entering the ark. I shall meet you inside the vessel.” She dismissed me with a wave.

  I crossed my arms and made my way into Shuruppak with a foreboding sense of horror to come. She was already gone when I glimpsed over my shoulder to have one last look at her before possessing the animals.

  The town was hot and arid. The air reeked of animal droppings mixed with sweet, earthy scents and mineral grains. There were no gardens in this city; there was little color. Modest white cottages built of chalk and covered with thatch lined either side of a wide pathway. I only needed to take a few steps into the city to see the looming presence of the ark in the center of town. I was awestruck by the sheer size of it.

  The inhabitants of Shuruppak watched in awe as all manner of strange beasts moved in pairs and in an organized fashion along the pathway and through the ark’s gaping entryway. The mobs of people shouted and laughed at the spectacle like senseless fools.

  “Noah, you are insane!” one of the bystanders yelled.

  “You enclose your family in that monstrosity you call an ark to be food for these wild beasts?”

  “That is if the stench of them does not kill them first!” They jeered at Noah and insulted him as he stood by the ark’s entrance looking troubled.

  I pushed through the crowd. I desired a closer look. I stood near the ark—so close, my senses were attacked by the potent, natural odors of the animals as they passed into the vessel two by two. I gawked and stood still as predators marched alongside prey without incident. How could the people of this city deny this is a miracle of God?

  Two of the most enormous mammals I had ever seen approached the vessel. The earth shook as they plodded along. The beasts’ limbs were placed vertically under their bodies, perhaps to support their enormous bulk. I watched in amazement as they flapped their huge ears and waved their long, flexible snouts. The bull boasted two huge, menacing tusks.

  Suddenly, the female whisked her immense head in my direction and stared at me. She proceeded to rumble and purr, her eyes fixed on mine. I gasped and took a step back. Then she bellowed and squeaked, pointing her long nose at me. I scratched the back of my head, uncertain how to respond, for it became quite obvious that the animal was trying to communicate with me.

  “Make haste, Dracúl! Possess the male elephant now!” a voice in my head urged me, but the voice was not my own. “It is I. Gadreel. I am communicating to you in your mind. I have possessed the female. You must possess her companion now!”

  I finally understood what I must do. My breaths quickened. I shoved my hair away from my face and fixed my gaze on the male elephant, focusing my thoughts on occupying its body. And just like that, it was done.

  Gadreel and I stomped inside the ark. The elephants’ sight was quite poor, but we were able to follow Noah’s sons as long as they remained at a short distance. They guided us to the place where we would dwell until the end of the cataclysm. When we were left alone I tried to communicate with Gadreel, but when I opened my mouth, a trumpetlike sound emerged. Laughter rang in my head.

  “Dracúl, stop! You must speak in your mind and direct your speech to me.” She shook her head and continued to chuckle.

  I found our situation to be precarious at best, certainly not amusing. “I am fearful of what is to come.”

  “Fear not. We a
re in the safety of Noah’s vessel, which was made with God’s own specifications,” she said.

  “I fear for mankind and … ”

  “And what? What fills you with fear?”

  It was surreal to hear her voice in my head and, at the same time, watch the beast before me rub its eye with its trunk.

  “What of the sea creatures? Will they survive this catastrophe?” I thought of Coralia, Cleodora, and Dagon.

  “I would not be able to carry on if I did not believe with all my heart that they shall persevere.”

  Her words set my mind at ease, and I drew in a long breath. Coralia will survive.

  Then I had a disagreeable thought. “What of our kind? Is there a chance a fallen angel or demon may endure this catastrophe and live on outside this vessel?”

  “I suppose anything is possible, and we, as you know, hold immense powers. I have been told of many of our kind whom exist in worlds parallel to this one and can come and go between this world and theirs, as they please. This is a topic best discussed at a later time, for I do not know every detail. Are you referring to a specific fallen one?”

  “Lilith. Could she persevere?” I leaned forward and furrowed my—the elephant’s—brow.

  “If there is a creature on this planet that could endure the flood and live, it would be Lilith, for she is now the most powerful being on Earth.” She lowered her head.

  “How is this so?” I asked, unintentionally raising the elephant’s trunk and trumpeting.

  “You are not familiar with the stories passed down from one generation to the next?”

  “Not really. It is difficult to separate the lies men tell from the truths, so I stopped listening to most of their stories.”

  “Your mother, Lilith, ate the fruit of the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. She is now a demigod. Many stories are told of her cruel acts. She restores the sick back to health and then demands that their loved ones pay a horrific price. She uses their love—the love of a mother, a father, a sibling—against them and tricks them into doing her evil bidding.”

  Pain and rage tore through my body. “The thought of Lilith surviving this catastrophe to continue her evil ways, when so many will perish, tortures me,” I said, shaking my head and inadvertently snapping my ears and kicking the enclosures surrounding me.

  “Please calm yourself.”

  “I despise her with every fiber of my being!” I yelled and made the elephant slap the walls with its trunk. “When her image comes to mind I feel nothing but hatred. Perhaps my wicked nature is to blame; after all, I was begotten of evil.”

  “Do not speak such words. Your nature is what you decide,” Gadreel said.

  “Perhaps you think too highly of me.” I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

  “Perhaps you think too lowly of yourself. Your life is your own. You do not have to become the creatures your mother and father chose to be.”

  Her words were soothing, but I was not convinced. “I have always wanted to do the right thing, be a righteous being, but I never knew what that meant. It always seemed like there was an impossible choice I had to make. I have never been free of guilt or sin. Perhaps I do not have a choice. I was born of evil, and a despicable creature I am. I will not rest until the fiend I once called Mother draws breath no more. I will have my vengeance!”

  Gadreel, in the female elephant’s form, moved away from me. “Now you sound like her. She uttered those toxic words countless times. She was obsessed with getting revenge against God for exiling us to Earth. She was consumed with thoughts of avenging herself, and due to this she became a most vile monstrosity. Wicked enough to do what no mother could. You are yet young, Dracúl. Strike such thoughts from your mind. We shall be enclosed in this vessel a long time—too long for thinking such venomous thoughts.”

  Her voice was like a sad song, yet sweet and warm, and I welcomed the calming effect it had on me.

  We remained still and quiet in our giant mammal bodies and gave our minds a rest. The ark grew silent for a moment, perhaps because the other animals were settling in their stalls, resting from their wearying trek from all over the world. Without a doubt, some of these creatures had divine help—if not every one of them.

  The ark’s immense doors groaned shut. There was a hard, aggressive thud, as if a great force had bolted them. The sound was so final, lethal—hopeless. The storm began soon after. Heaven opened and the water hammered down. The booming and crashing of thunder startled me and unnerved the other animals as well. The cacophony of terrified yelps, screams, screeching, and squawks did not compare to the symphony of human pleas outside the doors God had sealed.

  The people of Shuruppak banged on the ark’s doors, howling and shrieking as they pleaded for entry. And though they cried out for forgiveness, apologizing for not heeding Noah’s words sooner, they supplicated too late to be allowed inside. The wailing of the wind could not muffle the deafening sounds of lament. I cannot remember a more chilling echo.

  Minutes changed to hours and hours to days as we stood in our enclosures. There were fewer screams, less yelling. Regular clashes rang out as structures fell and debris hurtled in the wind and crashed into the ark.

  Then, something enormous struck the vessel, the sound louder than the blast of an erupting volcano, and the ark rocked hard from side to side. We were thrown to and fro, and bags of seeds and food, implements, and containers fell off shelves and crashed to the floor. We heard the animals’ commotion and watched Noah and his sons scrambling back and forth, trying to keep them calm. Soon the ark began to rise. When everything settled, I listened for the wails and howls of the people of Shuruppak but none came. The absolute silence spoke volumes—they were gone, every last person dead, perishing under giant waves from the rising sea. One such wave almost overturned this vessel.

  After some time, I grew weak from hunger. I ate of the food given to the animal I possessed, but it was not what I required. I needed blood. I had been contemplating for days how I would go about getting what was necessary for my survival and thought of only one solution.

  “Gadreel, I must leave my host’s body,” I said, preparing myself for what I knew would follow.

  “What? That would be too dangerous. You risk being seen.”

  “I have no choice, for I grow weaker by the day. Blood is the only thing that sustains me. I must feed. Would you have me die?”

  She gave me a wounded look. “Of course not.” She paused for a while. “What shall happen when Noah or one of his sons find the carcass of the animal you fed on?”

  “There will be no carcass. At night, when the humans are asleep, I will leave this creature’s body. Quiet as a fish, I will feed on several animals, only taking small amounts of blood from each, ensuring I do not harm them and then when I have satisfied my hunger I will return here and possess the mammal once more.”

  “Your plan is sound. Do then what you must to survive.” She lay down on her side and closed her eyes. Since I took possession of the bull elephant I have slept standing. I’m not sure why.

  Late that night, I left the mammal’s body, shifted into the red fiend, and slithered to the giraffes’ shelter and then to the rhinos, gorillas, and other large animals. I was as gentle as possible and fed a little from each of them without incident.

  As I crept my way back to the elephants’ housing, I spotted one of Noah’s sons. He was awake when he should have been asleep, and he was not alone. I hid behind crates and watched the young man as he pressed his beloved against a wall and kissed her.

  “Ham, the stink of the animals is horrid.” The young woman used the back of her hand to cover her nostrils. “Why not go elsewhere?”

  “I told you, near the animals’ pen is the only place we do not run risk of getting caught by my father.” Ham kissed her again. His mouth traveled to her neck and then her shoulders while he pulled her garment down to expose her breasts.

  “Stop at once!” She shoved him off her and pulled her garment over her b
reasts to cover them. “Your father specified that God prohibited this act while we are in the ark.”

  “Silence, woman! Do you wish to awaken the animals?” he said, frowning. “Surely God would forgive us if we broke the prohibition of sex on board the ark, for we are young and married and the voyage is long.” He used a honeyed voice and continued wheedling her until he got his way. He undressed her and loosened her hair, and I watched them engage in sexual acts.

  When the deed was done they departed, leaving me with strong desires. “Coralia,” I whispered under my breath as I returned to the elephants’ pen. I slept with my belly satiated and my body strong but my heart void, longing to be filled with love and affection.

  Rain poured in sheets for forty days and forty nights. Some nights I was perturbed by thoughts of what had happened to the people of the world. I tried to empty my mind of these thoughts by sitting in silence and taking in my surroundings. I filled my head with the resonant sounds of huge waves from afar and water splashing on the ark, the creaking of the enormous vessel, the distant rumbling of thunder and deafening crack of a nearby lightning strike, and the faint cacophony of nocturnal animals. My nose picked up the musty, oily, briny scents of the ship and the ocean, and I realized how sharp one’s senses become in the dark.

  After a while, I got to know the customs and habits of the ark’s inhabitants. On occasion, I abandoned my elephant host and made my way to the upper level of the ship and looked through the portholes. Lightning bolts cut through the gloomy skies, and immense waves rocked the vessel, making it flop and waver like a child’s toy ship on a brook. The deafening, quaking booms of thunder echoed off the vibrating wood. I opened the porthole. Hot and cold winds from every direction wrestled each other to add fuel to the storm. The rain came down in a cluster of huge drops resembling a waterfall from the heavens. “So much water….” I whispered to myself. Water usually brought forth life, but this water was a purveyor of death.

 

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