Son of the Serpent

by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

  “Are you God?” a young, timid voice asked. I did not respond and continued to stare at the ground. “Are you going to punish us now?” the boy continued. “Will you bring another flood? Will it kill everyone? Even little boys?” I glanced up at him. When our eyes met, he flinched and ran to the arms of his mother.

  Again a massive crowd surrounded me. This time I will allow them to take my life. I did not deserve to live after what I had done. However, they did not launch rocks at me or attempt to hurt me in any way. They simply stared. I searched one haunted face after another, trying to understand what they wanted of me.

  An elderly man fell to his knees and extended his arms in front of him, lowering his head to the ground in reverence. This prompted the others to do the same. They are worshipping me? I remained close to the ground, motionless, gaping at the mob, stunned by their behavior.

  “Oh great one, you are the color of rage and blood,” the elder said as he rose to his knees. “This is the god of dominance and retribution. He can help us build our tower!” He pointed at me as he spoke to the crowd, and then he turned his sight to me. “We will dedicate the structure to you.” He placed his hands together in front of his face. “We will build a gigantic tower for the purpose of worshipping you!” The crowd exploded in cheers. Unable to believe what I had witnessed, I remained mute and struggled to catch my breath, powerless to form words for my heart was in my throat.

  “No!” I finally said as I lifted myself off the ground and moved toward the older man. “No,” I said again, my voice timid, small. I looked around me. It seemed everyone in the valley surrounded me and waited to hear what I had to say. I had nothing to give them.

  As I wondered how to proceed, the day grew brighter. A powerful incandescent light shone on us, and an ethereal form materialized from within it. I squinted and lowered myself to the earth once more. I dropped forward and pushed my face to the ground, feeling undeserving to look upon such a being after what I had done.

  “My name is Gabriel. I am a messenger from God.” The holy angel’s voice was silvery, marked with strength and clarity of sound.

  “Of which god do you speak?” the old man asked.

  I lifted my face from the ground, as did the others.

  “There is but one God, and He is not pleased with your deeds,” Gabriel said.

  Sensing his wrath, the people scrambled to their feet, shouting amongst themselves, eager to defend their mission despite the angel’s haughty reprimand.

  “We are building a tower that will be high enough to reach Heaven and the presence of God,” the elder proclaimed, his eyes glinting with defiance.

  As the crowd moved toward the angel, I jumped up and expanded my hideous black wings. And though I had no idea from where my strength and vigor came, I was determined to prevent any harm from coming to the holy messenger.

  “Stay away from God’s herald,” I shouted, finding my voice.

  The elder inhaled a sharp breath and staggered to his feet. “You side with this Gabriel?” he said, pointing at me with a quivering, skeletal finger. “You, our god and to whom we dedicate this tower?”

  “I am no god! I will not help you construct this monument!” I stood with my back to Gabriel, ready to gouge any man who attempted to attack him.

  “We, the people of this city, are unified in purpose,” the elder said. “Will your God destroy us, as He has done before?”

  Gabriel moved me aside and stepped toward the crowd. “The construction of the tower is an act of defiance against the one true God. He is not pleased with what you have done, but He will not destroy you. Instead, He will destroy this monument and confound your speech. Humanity has always spoken a single language, but now God has commanded me to split the Adamic language into many dialects. You will be divided and will be scattered to different lands as He originally commanded. Everyone will form different nations after his or her tongue.”

  When Gabriel finished his announcement, there was confusion in the crowd, as the people tried in vain to communicate with each other. They scurried about, looking for others who might speak their language, and groups formed of people united in tongue.

  Great lightning bolts shot down from clear blue skies, striking the monument repeatedly until it crumbled to the ground. The earth shook and thunderclaps stirred the souls of men. The people ran to and fro, screaming and crying. In the end, the monument was but dust, and a sharp, acidic stench lingered in the air.

  Grime coated my face, and there was a fire in my nose which caused me great pain. Pinching and rubbing it did not ease the stinging. Those who survived the earthquake began to disperse.

  “What is to become of me?” I was prepared to receive whatever punishment God chose to will upon me.

  “You, Dracúl, will have the ability to speak and understand every human language, for you made several attempts, were willing to sacrifice your own existence, to stop the construction of the tower.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. Hearing my name spoken aloud startled me, as it had been so long since I had uttered it. But that paled in comparison to the impact of his words. Does he not know who I am or of the monstrosity who birthed me? Before I had the chance to speak the words aloud, Gabriel vanished like a thin mist in the wind.

  I stood on the plain of this demolished city, frozen. Should I travel to the wicked city of Sodom? Should I continue on the quest to find Lilith? Who am I, if not the wretched being whose thirst for revenge will not be quenched until he has found and destroyed his wicked mother?

  Chronicles of Lilith – 5

  After leaving the plain of Shinar, Gremory, Sila, and I searched for others like us. It turns out many preternatural beings had also discovered there were many realms separated by dimensional portals in the known world. A great number of fallen angels, demons, and jinn led others through these portals to escape.

  I am certain many died in the process, and countless others were imprisoned in these realms, but a great number survived and returned to the world of men and, in some cases, brought back creatures from the realms they had visited. We came across many of these postdiluvian demons and other beings, none of whom were as powerful as the three of us. Sensing that we were formidable, many were eager to join forces with us.

  In our travels we discovered many human settlements. In each village I looked for my companion, and before moving on I left behind demons to cause strife and chaos and to ensure evil continued to spread throughout the world. After all, evil kept us strong.

  Before long, we came across a sizeable commune of people. Weary of travel, I decided to divide these people into two groups and establish two metropolises. I named these twin cities Sodom and Gomorrah. I governed both of them with the help of Gremory and Sila, traveling between them until I had established my authority, and then I settled in Sodom with Sila and left Gremory in charge of Gomorrah.

  I was determined to make Sodom and Gomorrah prime examples of wicked and depraved places. To prevent the infiltration of holy prophets and other individuals whose beliefs were contrary to mine, I set strict laws and commandments about travelers.

  “No denizen of either Sodom or Gomorrah shall give any stranger food or water. To do so shall carry a penalty of death.” I stood before them in my true form, and they obeyed. Strangers walking into either city would receive no lodging or aid of any kind. They would be turned away unless I said otherwise. Anyone who disobeyed my laws would be dealt with swiftly and without mercy.

  My minions kept an eye out for any stranger fitting the description of my companion. He must be young, strong, and with striking good looks, to start. If they identified someone with the criteria, they had instructions to alert me at once.

  I continued with my healing rituals, for I received great satisfaction from the payments I charged, and many a ruined delinquent developed from the experience. One day, I opened the door to find one of my many servants there. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head before speaking to me.

  “There is a c
ouple requesting your healing services,” he said. “They wait outside with their children.”

  “Bring them in,” I said, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.

  He returned with the couple and their three young children—twin adolescent girls and a slightly older boy.

  I waited to hear the door groan shut after the servant.

  The woman’s heart-shaped face was sprinkled with freckles, and her sad brown eyes searched my face. She wore two long, thick, braids in her auburn hair. Standing next to her was an obese man with a wide face covered in lines and loose folds of skin. Thin, scraggly gray hair was scattered on his large head. Next to his youthful, thin-boned wife, he looked like an old blowfish. The girls were replicas of their mother, while the boy was the spitting image of his father.

  I shook my head and snickered. “How can I be of service to you?”

  The young woman gave her husband a little shove and he stepped forward. “My son…” He cleared his throat and continued. “He is, um, he—”

  “He is simple!” his wife said, stepping in front of him. “He is not like his sisters. He is older than they are, yet he does not understand as they do. He is slow to learn.”

  I nodded and approached the boy. I picked up his chin and looked into his eyes. “His mind was not well-developed and he is unintelligent.”

  “Is there any hope for him?” the woman said as she straightened her back. “Can you help him, or will he remain a fool for the rest of his life?”

  The man pulled the boy to him and hugged him.

  “Yes,” I said. “I can help him.”

  “You can cure his mind and make him an intelligent man?” The young woman covered her mouth with a hand and gave a nervous laugh.

  “Of course. When I heal someone of their malady, they become better than they once were.”

  The couple hugged their children, rejoicing in the good news until I informed them that a payment would be required for my services.

  The man stepped forward. “What do you require of us?”

  I smiled the kind of smile meant to put one at ease. “Since I like you, I shall give you a choice. I shall make your son a normal, healthy, intelligent man, and in return you may choose one of the following as payment.”

  They all watched me, the man wringing his shaking hands in front of his body, while his wife held their daughters, swaying from side to side.

  “I have a staff of twenty male servants,” I said to the woman. “I like to reward them with a fetching woman from time to time. I would require you to pleasure them for a week’s time.” I pointed to the woman and it was as if I had struck her the way she gasped and shrank back. “Of course I would need something from you too.” The man turned pale, lips quivering as I stood before him. “You can extract a pound of flesh from any part of your body and bring it to me in a jar.”

  I touched the woman’s shoulder with a light touch as I sauntered around her and whispered in her ear. “I handpick every male servant, and there is not an unsightly one among them. I would instruct them not to damage you. Surely this is an easy payment, considering the revolting creature you have been lying with for so long.”

  “And you sir,” I said, eyeing the man who was now sweating profusely. “What is one pound of blubber when you have hundreds to spare?” I waited awhile for a response, but they seemed unable to speak.

  “No?” I grinned, rubbing my hands together.

  I approached the little girls and caressed their freckled cheeks. “You have two identical girls. Surely you do not have need for both, right?”

  The man pulled his wife and girls to him, holding them tightly.

  “I cannot make this any easier!” They were all sobbing now. “You have no need for two girls, especially two identical girls. Choose one, or if it is too difficult, I can choose one for you. You will still have one beautiful girl and a healthy, intelligent boy.”

  “What would you do with the girl if we decided to give her to you?” There was a venomous tone in the woman’s voice which betrayed her anger.

  “I would give her to my servants to have their way with her, and when they tired of her she would be cooked in oil for my animals,” I said, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. “What can I say? They developed a taste for cooked meat.”

  The young woman’s eyes grew large, her legs faltered, and she fell to her knees, screaming and wailing as her husband hurried to help her up. He held her, their girls sandwiched between them.

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. I presume you will not be choosing that form of payment either. Be silent and listen to your last option.”

  They watched me with eyes withered with anguish—except, of course, for the dim-witted boy who had no clue what was happening. The air was thick and humid with their panting.

  “This will be your last choice, so listen well. I shall have your eyes and your hair!” I said to the woman. “From you, sir, I require your male organs and one of your arms.”

  “You ask for too much!” one of the girls yelled.

  I grinned at her. “I am not finished. From your girls I require a leg each. Be sure it is one right leg and one left.”

  The woman gasped and covered her mouth, while her husband shook his head and the girls wept.

  “You have your choices. You may leave and mull over your decision. Come back tomorrow when twilight throws its gossamer violet veil over the city. I shall listen to your choice then.”

  They looked depleted as they dragged themselves out the door.

  The following evening, the wife showed up leading her son with one hand and carrying a sizeable jar containing a bloody mass of fat and tissue in the other.

  “I see you have made your decision,” I said.

  She extended the container to me but did not meet my gaze. “Here is your pound of flesh taken from my husband. I am ready to do what I must, but first you must heal my son as you promised—healthy and intelligent, you said.”

  I handed the container to one of my servants who waited nearby, whispered instructions to him, and watched as he scurried away. “Let’s have a seat while we wait,” I said, linking my arm through the woman’s as I led the two of them to a more comfortable spot.

  “What are we waiting for?” she said, her bosom rising and falling with rapid breaths as she bit her lip.

  “I have spoken to my chefs. They will prepare a delicacy with aromatic plants and tonics per my instructions, made specifically to repair your son’s mind.”

  “He has only to eat something?” she asked.

  “Yes, that is all that shall be required of him.”

  A few minutes later, one of my servants arrived holding a dish. We moved to the table, and the dish was placed in front of the boy.

  “I hope the boy is hungry, because in order for this to work he must eat everything served to him.”

  She did not respond to me; instead, she spoke to her son. “Make me happy and eat all your food, my darling.”

  To my disappointment, he had no trouble eating everything on his plate. As soon as he was done with his last bite, he began to shake and scream.

  His mother rose from her chair and held him. “What is happening to him?”

  “His body is fighting the medicine. This is not unusual. Now, we must wait to see if he survives.”

  “What? You never mentioned the possibility that he may not survive!”

  “Each person is different. It is impossible to predict every outcome,” I said, sending an indifferent glance about the room.

  The boy convulsed and flailed his arms and legs. I ordered two servants to lay him on the floor. His sobbing mother knelt beside him. The boy turned a deep scarlet and wheezed.

  “What have you done to my son? He is dying! What was that you had him eat?”

  I put my hands on my hips. “His father’s pound of flesh, of course.”

  The woman gasped, letting go of her son to cover her mouth as she retched. “How could you do this to him? He is only a boy.
” Her voice was brittle as she retched again.

  I ignored her words and stared at the boy as he cringed and twitched on the ground. After several more minutes, the boy lay still. I watched as the color returned to his face, and the boy—now a handsome young man—sat up and addressed his stunned mother.

  “Mother, what has come to pass? Why do you weep?” he said, his words coherent, intelligent. He got to his feet and helped his mother to hers. They embraced.

  “How do you feel, my son?”

  “I feel fine, but I worry for you.” He was lucid, and everything about him had changed. He stood with a straight back, his chest pushed out and head lifted. He was handsome and intelligent, and his mother gazed at him with pride.

  “The boy must leave, for it is now time for you to pay your debt. Or do you prefer he witnessed said payment?”

  “No!” she said quickly, and swallowed hard as she took her son by the upper arms. “Son, I need you to go home now. Do you know where we live? Can you get there on your own?”

  “Of course, but it is late. I think you should come with me.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot leave now. I have a debt to pay. Your father is not well. I need you to return home and take care of him and your sisters.” He shook his head. “Please, my son, if you love and respect me, you will heed my words. Go now. Your father needs you.”

  The boy kissed and hugged his mother, and a servant showed him to the door. The look of distain he shot at me over his shoulder did not go unnoticed.

  I beckoned two female servants. “Prepare this woman for the men. Let me know when she is ready.”

  She refused to look at me as they led her away. I must admit, I found it a bit disappointing.

  A couple of hours later I was notified that the woman was ready. I went to see her. She stood before me in the nude. Her auburn hair was clean and shiny, fragrant like honeysuckle. I took her by the arm and walked her to the men’s quarters.