by Bo Luellen
James Lanyon wrapped his arms around his wife and bellowed, “My son spoke to me the night you and Josh Dyer became the so-called heroes of the Battle of the Preserve. He said how he tried to talk you out of getting mixed up in this any further. I told him to pack up the kids and come over. He did. The three of them were safe with us until you called. Because of that, he decided to bring his family back home and stand by you. We begged him not to, but he did it because he loved you. Now he is dead, and our granddaughters are in the hands of his murderer. These people might call you a hero, but you’re just as bad as the Crimson Brotherhood. You put your family in harm’s way because of what? A love affair with a college fling? A need to feel important? Our only child is dead because of you. If our grandchildren are found, we will do everything in our power to get them away from you!”
Agent Decker pulled Amanda away and warned, “Okay, that’s enough. Ma’am, are you hurt?”
She shook her head no, replying, “I just want to leave.”
He nodded and radioed that they were exiting. As he escorted her from the funeral, Amanda felt the heat on her skin from the slap. She wasn’t angry at Eve; she understood the maternal feeling all too well. Right now, her daughters were with a supernatural madman, and the only thing she could do to help them was to stay silent for a year in the hopes Marcus followed through on his promise.
As they approached the black sedan, a familiar set of faces were bunched up and regarding her somberly. Jessup House, Thomas Booth, and David Keller stood side by side in front of a worn pickup. Keller was wearing a pair of wranglers with a black pair of dress boots, with a white shirt and a black necktie. House had his wild white hair slicked back and was sporting a veteran’s vest that was filled with medals from his days in the Marine Corps. Booth had on a dark tan colored poncho with a hood, which looked suspiciously like a cloak to her, and was leaning on his gnarled wooden staff. Jessup gave a little wave and flashed an innocent grin towards her.
Amanda stopped and told the agent, “I need to go talk to some friends of mine, can you give me a moment?”
He eyed the group of men and stated, “Okay, you have five minutes, but stay within eyeshot. Please make it quick, Mrs. Lanyon. We are out in the open here.”
She walked towards them, as the grey-bearded Jessup lumbered his portly frame towards her and opened his arms, welcoming, “Come here, girl.”
She received a bear-sized hug from the old man and then another one from Keller. Amanda felt a kinship that could only be brought about by living through a life and death situation. It made her ignore the bold aroma of Old Spice from Jessup and Booth’s aura of stink.
House put a hand on her shoulder and said, “How’re ya holding up?”
She adjusted a stray hair nervously and responded, “I’m not sure. My children are in the hands of a psychopathic killer, my husband’s dead because of me, and the world just saw me get slapped by my ex-mother-in-law. My job is likely going to fire me because I haven’t been to work, and Brother Dunn has been leaving me messages demanding that I openly support the Tulsa Christian Crusaders. People in town either think I’m a hero or the whore who is looking for attention. I’m numb.”
Keller cleared his throat and asked carefully, “We don’t mean to pry, but what happened at your house? The news says a cult member killed your husband with an ice pick and then kidnapped your daughters.”
She looked towards the news trucks with their high powered microphones and cameras, wondering , How sensitive is their equipment? I can’t risk it.
Amanda looked back and robotically replied, “That’s what happened.”
David uncrossed his arms and chuckled, “One guy killed your husband, took your kids right out of your home? All while you, the person that outran me towards an armed cultist, stood by and couldn’t do anything. No description, no license tag, and then you disappear with those MIB looking bastards. I call bullshit. What really happened?”
She shook her head and admitted, “It’s complicated.”
The big man made eye contact with her, “The newspapers said that Larry’s head was twisted around backward. A friend in the sheriff’s department told me he was thrown into a wall like a rag doll. Your husband was a large man. Lifting him off the ground isn’t something the average person could do. You know what I think? I think that the superwoman I fought in the woods came to your house. She killed your husband and kidnapped your kids. Amanda, I fought her. I know that thing looks human, but it isn’t. I’ve had nightmares every time I sleep about what I experienced. You see, I get why you’re reluctant to share those kinds of details with the police. If I told the cops that some tiny woman was yanking full-grown men off the ground by one arm, they would lock me up or worse. You can’t stand by and do nothing. That woman needs to be stopped. All of us agreed that we will help you.”
Her face twisted in anguish when an old grizzled voice came from the opposite end of the road, “Indeed, she does need to do something Mr. Keller, but your theory is off a bit I’d say. Yes, there was a supernatural element to that night in your house, but this superwoman wasn’t who came to visit you. Was it Mrs. Lanyon?”
The tapping of his black cane accompanied the crooked stride of the old man. The weathered face of the aging gentleman twisted into a grin, showing off a perfect set of false teeth through his shaggy white beard. The approaching stranger was dressed in a two-piece black suit, with a long grey scarf around his neck. At his side was a younger man in his twenties who was in black slacks and a dress shirt. She could see some resemblance in their features and thought she caught a hint of a European accent in the man’s voice.
Booth pushed his thick glasses up on his nose and gasped, “An old person, gross!”
Amanda had enough surprises for one day and retorted, “It’s none of your business. Whatever newspaper you are writing for can kiss my…”
The well-dressed visitor held up a hand and pleaded, “Please forgive me, Mrs. Lanyon. The journey to Oklahoma has caused me to lose my manners, and, certainly, you have been through a lot. My name is Basten Van Helsing, and this is my grandson Nicolaas . It isn’t everyone that comes face to face with a vampire and lives. The newspapers said that your husband was stabbed in the neck by a man with an ice pick, but that’s not what happened, is it, Mrs. Lanyon?”
Amanda felt anger swell up inside at the thought of Marcus biting Larry’s neck and then ending his life. The sound his snapping bones made as he died haunted her. Amanda glanced at the AEGIS Agent, who was staring intently at her and knew she only had a small amount of time. She couldn’t risk endangering her children, but she dared a tiny shake of her head.
Keller grabbed his head and whispered, “Holy shit!”
Jessup let out an incredulous laugh and asked, “Wait, what are we talkin’ about here? Ah, vampire? You got to be kiddin’ mister.”
The younger man entered the conversation with an artificially deep voice, “The vampiric undead have been recorded in the oral and written traditions of most cultures on the planet. There are dozens of different types, and each has its own strengths and weaknesses. Some will live no longer than a few years, while others saw a time before Jesus Christ hung from the cross. All of them are deadly. They are beings of darkness, kin of Satan, and liars.”
Amanda put her hand across her face to hide her mouth, then whispered, “I don’t know what to do. If I stay silent and out of their way, I’ve been promised my daughters will be returned to me in a year.”
The stranger leaned on his cane and said, “If you wait until that year is up, I’m sure your children will be lost to you. Even if you do get them back, they will be strangers and reborn of evil. If you have the means, get out of the State, or better yet out of the country. With you gone, the one who has them will lower their guard around your Nancy and April. My grandson and I will find them and free them.”
Amanda lost her cool, grabbed the interlopers collar, and hissed, “Why should I trust you, old man?”
He patt
ed the top of her hand, “Our family has been hunting monsters like this for generations. I saw the footage from the funeral home and heard about the way your husband died. So, the Helsing’s answered the call, as my ancestors have done over the many years. Mrs. Lanyon, if you must stay silent to fulfill this dark agreement, then why not do it elsewhere. Let me go to work and save your children.”
She studied his face for a moment, then let out a tearful, “Okay.”
Basten took her hands in his own and asked, “I will need but one thing from you; the name of the vampire who has your children.”
Amanda hugged the old man and whispered in his ear, “Marcus Holmes.”
Chapter 2: Henry VI
The Mind of Hyde – Unknown Date – Unknown Time
Henry Jekyll wandered about the Study, as Hyde told him, “The mortals are working to revive our body with their crude devices and methods. Their science can’t begin to understand what is happening, so we will take advantage of their ignorance and bide our time wisely. The coming metamorphosis will activate the divine DNA in your genetic code.”
Henry looked towards the dark figure and asked, “So, I’m still in a coma?”
The Demon nonchalantly explained, “It’s more akin to being in a cocooned state, but to your understanding, yes, you are still in a coma. The process is tasking your frail body and draining it to the point of death. Over time, we will gradually change into a Nephilim, and our two beings become one. In the meantime, we must use the pending months to re-train your mind to accept what is coming.”
The young man gave a shocked, “Months? We can’t stay like this for that long. Those lunatics will get to us by then!”
Hyde had pity in his eyes as he relayed, “Calm yourself, my child. Time is a function of the universe that you barely understand. While we hibernate, the flow of time moves very differently. To simplify this for you, one hour of time in your world is equal to one month here in the Study. Your mind is entwined with my consciousness, which means reality bends to Hyde.”
Henry examined an onyx bust of a man he didn’t recognize and inquired, “I thought Nephilim were created when one of you has sex with one of ours?”
The Devil fluidly sat down on a brown leather love seat, “Your species is just now discovering how to clone and selectively alter the genetic markers. Yes. In its most basic form, a Nephilim can be created through impregnating a human woman. The idea that coupling is the only way to create a new lifeform is the primate thinking that keeps your kind looking for caves when the storm comes. What we will experience will be spiritual, physical, and mental unification. The strongest and best elements of each of us will be kept, while the more undesirable shall be discarded.”
The man shook his head and objected, “The Bible never spoke of this.”
An emotionless Devil responded dryly, “Do be still my heart, it didn’t? Well, let’s go on a little faith, for now, shall we?” Henry gave a sour look at the jest, as Hyde plowed along, “It’s forbidden to create a Nephilim, even among those that fell with Lucifer, for the blended offspring have strange powers and abilities. The transformation will purge disease and imperfections from our body, and we will cease to age. Unfortunately, we will retain most of your human physical characteristics, but take heart. My more exceptional celestial features and traits will shine through. We will experience some degree of increased strength and agility, but that will pale in comparison to the deep well of magical energies we will be able to draw from. Our new body will be both the human and divine, giving us the skill to use both of the arcane talents of angels and mortals. Only a few rare creatures have dared to embrace this path, and were hunted down and killed by jealous gods and envious beings who wanted that power for themselves.”
Henry walked around the bust and lamented, “Wait! If we are changing physically, won’t the doctors and nurses notice?”
His host played with a lock of his black hair and said, “I’ll stay the more pronounced physical changes until we are close to our rebirth. We will be at our most vulnerable until then. I wouldn’t fear for us too much, as the mortals have us sequestered under armed guard. They hope to put us on trial when we revive as a leader of the Crimson Brotherhood. You humans and your witch trials. Alas, I can’t judge them too harshly, as I’ve done enough to warrant such a tribunal, but my justice will come from a more exalted court. In any case, hours before we awake, our face and body will be altered. When we rise a stranger to this world, you will no longer resemble the pathetic man you once were. The law bringers will find only an empty bed, and Henry Jekyll will have vanished from existence.”
Henry sat down across from his ancestor and pondered, “Does that mean I won’t be me anymore?”
Hyde rested longways on the couch, “The melding into one being will cause both of our personalities to go dormant inside the genetic coding of the new body. In essence, we will become the parents to a new life form, a construct of blended physiognomies.”
Henry took a deep breath and revealed, “I have to admit, the idea of a new beginning sounds exciting, but I don’t like the idea of being out of control. This thing we will become has the potential to be a great force for good or a creature of evil.”
The Demon propped his head up on hand and examined, “My child, think back to your roots on that dull, miserable ranch in the country. Consider how your mother’s influence carved your soul into several dysfunctional pieces, all of which were woefully ill-prepared to deal with the pressures of life. You thought leaving for college would free you of a tortured existence full of regret, guilt, and cowardice. Still, you’ve only floundered, as you try desperately to fit into ordinary society. You have only been at peace when coiled inside the dream state of an opiate, which only offered a brief reprieve from the hurtful memories. The end to your wretched path is upon you. Embrace the notion of becoming something that doesn’t tremble in the dark. You will be a new being, that will cut away the fear. The demons of your past will slink away from the beast you will become.”
Henry digested Hyde’s words as the Demon mused, “Really, it’s a small matter. It is the same method that God used when he transferred his essence into the Jewish child. The difference is we’re not Mary, a married teenager, and no one is running out on the newborn afterward. We shall enjoy the spoils of this world and feast in the forbidden temple of Solomon.”
While the days past in the Study with Hyde, he poured into the books. Henry discovered it was nothing more than a collection of life experiences from the Demon’s victims. Each person he possessed was represented in a single tome that expounded on the individual’s failures and successes. Hyde taught him how to attune himself to the books and absorb their knowledge. The content of the pages transferred into his mind, as the memories of its subject became his own.
Hyde told him with a sneer, “Angels are talented at conveying information, just as humans are formidably incapable of hearkening. Now that your Angelic qualities are surfacing, you will absorb the essence of these Vessels’ life experiences.”
Over time, Henry realized that the thoughts weren’t merely implanted there as a reference point, but intimately connected to him. The process came with an emotional joining, and he would feel their life and death as if it was his own. The benefit was that he would absorb some new skill or trade with each book consumed.
One morning he read about a Brazilian fisherman Hyde had possessed. When he was done, Henry could sail, knew how to deep-sea fish, and spoke fluent Portuguese. Just as with each of these magical downloads, he felt the deep sadness of the Vessel’s death when Hyde abandoned the fishermen after the cartel killed him for moving in on their illegal ventures. There was always a give and a take with the Demon’s sorcery.
When he was done processing the emotional ramifications of the day, Henry thought, This is like living in a real-life version of Quantum Leap. I’m Sam, Al is a Demon, and Iggy is a long line of nightmarish books.
In the weeks to follow, Henry lost his sense of time as on
e day bled into another. He was consuming dozens of life experiences each day, and finding his outlook on life was changing. While he was gaining new skills and languages, he was also having nightmares from Hyde’s impact on the possessed victims. As usual, the Demon had a tendency to only jump into damned sinners who were already bound for hell. When he became bored or needed to run from Miniel, he generally made sure the Vessel died in some stimulating way. After living through hundreds of demises, Henry had a series of psychotic episodes and anxiety attacks. The Demon could see he was on the verge of insanity, which would result in a disastrous union. If Henry went crazy, the new creature would become wild and prone to chaotic violence.
Hyde told him sympathetically, “Do you remember where you were when your people experienced the attack you call 9-11?”
Henry nodded and recalled, “They rolled a TV into the classroom so we could watch, and then let out school.”
The Angel placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and continued, “Just like your parents remember where they were when John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Just like how your grandparents remember when America entered World War II. Your species uses a tragedy to define each generation. Most benevolent races take inspiration in great accomplishments and let it renew their culture’s hope and unity, but not humanity. You only find the noblest parts of yourselves when you are deep in blood. As I inhabited the filth called ‘Man,’ I consumed those moments with an intensity you couldn’t comprehend. It was a drawback to my cohabitation and caused me no end of problems. Unfortunately, I still feel the grieving, the love, the lost family members of all those I’ve possessed, with complete accuracy. That is the curse of my perfection. You remember everything as if you were still in that instant. Your kind has a saying, ‘Time heals all wounds.’ It is not so for Angels. We remember the love and slights as if the prick of the pin never stopped.”
Henry felt his anger rising and replied, “You kill and lie with no regard! How dare you judge our ...”