“Lilith,” he cried out. The whispers grew louder, closing in all around him. A thick mist encircled Felipe. From out of the fog rose a deafening, hellish, roaring sound. Felipe shielded his ears with his hands. Dusana and Asira swooped down fast from the sky, laughing wildly as they knocked Felipe facedown.
Isis appeared in a glorious light. Her ice-blue body glistened in the bright rays of the sun.
“You are wasting your time, vampiro. Lilith will never remove the curse. Your fate is sealed,” she said, spitting out the words in a mocking tone.
“I ask you for mercy. Please, lift the curse,” Felipe pleaded.
“Never! Now, leave here and do not return,” Isis said.
“Por favor,” he said, groveling on his knees.
Isis outstretched her wings, giving Felipe a hard, cold stare before she and her sisters vanished.
The Daughters of Saturn left Felipe on his knees, surrounded by a cloud of white and purple shimmering icy mist.
Nightfall found Felipe still on his knees, pleading. Realizing his supplications were useless, he stood up. Without warning, Felipe was consumed by the insatiable hellish thirst. He knew he must hurry if he was going to return the boy’s horse. But he now feared killing the poor lad. There was simply no time to ride across the valley to the boy’s farm, his cravings for flesh and blood was too great.
Felipe turned and looked at the horse. He had never teleported another being.
“I wonder.”
He placed his hand on the horse’s muzzle. “Steady, boy, I promise this won’t hurt, at least, I hope not.” Felipe concentrated. In an instant, both Felipe and the horse vanished, reappearing at the boy’s farm.
Felipe laughed. “It worked.” He opened the gate and the horse galloped into the field. Then suddenly, Felipe was struck by yet another wave of hellish hunger for human flesh and blood. He vanished in rolling smoke in search of his next victim.
ONE DAY AT THE FAIR
With each passing day, Felipe had begun to lose sight of what it meant to be human—to feel, to care, to love. He felt nothing inside except an insatiable hunger for human flesh and the ungodly thirst for human blood. With every kill more gruesome than the last, Felipe was becoming less human and more bloodthirsty, which terrified him. Desperate for answers, he sought out holy men, questioning them about demons and curses. He searched libraries, rifling through holy texts and books about Islamic mythology—seeking a way to break the curse.
It was late in the afternoon when the ungodly thirst for human blood hit Felipe with a fury. He swallowed hard and tried with all his might to suppress the wicked craving. He eased back in the chair and continued reading. His lips were withered and white, his throat as parched as the sun-scorched earth. Felipe cleared his throat and glanced down blurry eyed at the text. The insufferable, unquenchable thirst had gotten the better of him. Felipe slammed the book shut and vanished.
He found himself standing in front of the gateway to the grandest bazaar in all of Córdoba. Quickly, he spotted his prey. She was a petite blonde. The unsuspecting woman was too busy selecting fruits to notice Felipe was almost upon her. A strolling troupe of musicians blocked Felipe’s path. By the time the musicians finished playing two songs, the woman was gone.
Felipe decided to take a different route through the bazaar, ending up on the trail leading to the textile and jewelry merchants. There, Felipe found tables and carts stockpiled with fancy clothing, turbans, rugs, and trinkets. After maneuvering around scores of merchant tables and carts in search of his next victim, Felipe found himself in the rear of the bazaar.
“Young man? Young man, come!” an old man gestured.
Felipe stopped walking and turned around. He spotted an old man standing in front of a dilapidated cart in the far corner of the marketplace. Felipe made his way over to the broken down cart, which was inconveniently wedged between tables and carts of colorful rugs and textiles.
Felipe made his way to the man’s cart. “Yes, what do you want old man?”
“I see your hands are empty. Perhaps a book is what you seek.”
“Perhaps.”
“Won’t you take a look-see?” the man said, gesturing his hand over the vast selection of books on the cart.
Felipe looked through the merchant’s collection of bound texts, quickly skimming through pages. Not finding anything that could aid him in his quest to break the curse, Felipe started to walk away.
“Wait,” the man said, stepping in front of Felipe. The old man gave Felipe a grin. “I never forget a face. You were at the Mosque last week inquiring about demons and curses. We’re you not?”
“Yes,” Felipe replied.
“I believe I have something that might be of interest to you.” The old man pulled out a small leather-bound book from the side pocket of his robe.
Skeptical, Felipe took one look at the book and shook his head.
“Oh, never judge a book by its cover,” the old man advised. “This book teaches about the strong ones.”
Felipe gazed into the old man’s eyes, trying to scan his thoughts. But he only saw a black void. He took the book from the man and opened it. After reading the first few pages, He looked up at the old man and smiled.
“I’ll take it. How much?”
“For you, six maravedí,” the merchant replied.
“A little expensive for an old book, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but it is well worth the price.”
Felipe’s rummaged through his pockets and pulled out six coins, and paid the man.
“Shukran,” (Thank you) Felipe said.
Once Felipe was out of the merchant’s sight, with a wave of his hand, the old man transformed into Lilith. She laughed and vanished in a cloud of rolling smoke.
Burning with curiosity, Felipe was anxious to return to his room at the inn and read the small leather-bound book. But that was going to have to wait. First, his hellish thirst for human flesh and blood had to be satisfied. Felipe placed the book in an inner pocket and slowed his pace, in search for his next victim.
Felipe was in the mood for someone brimming with blood. No one sickly or old, he had a taste for someone virile. His eyes locked on his prey, a young father holding his infant son. Felipe sniffed the air, the man’s blood was healthy and his son’s blood smelled fresh and clean. Felipe’s mouth began to salivate. Felipe approached the man and stared into his eyes, locking him in a hypnotic supernatural exchange—Felipe’s thoughts, his will, embedding deep within the man’s subconscious mind.
The man staggered backward. His eyes transfixed on Felipe’s alluring, hypnotic stare. The man’s thoughts now intertwined with Felipe’s thoughts.
“Follow me,” Felipe commanded telepathically to the man.
Without hesitation, the man followed Felipe out of the bazaar and down a deserted path, where Felipe feasted upon the man and his son.
* * *
Felipe returned to his room, where he poured himself a cup of fine wine and sat down in his chair. He opened the small leather-bound book and began reading:
“‘Jinns, ancient creatures created along with mankind to worship Allah (God). Ifrits (infernal Jinn) are Jinns who disobeyed Allah and are often depicted as bloodthirsty, evil spirits—vampires. No ordinary weapon has power over them. They are only susceptible to magick and said to possess special powers, making themselves invisible or change shape into animals at will.’”
Felipe rested the book on a side table next to his chair. He picked up the Qur’an, which sat on top of a mound of books on the floor around his chair. Felipe leafed through the pages of the Qur’an until he found the passage he was looking for and read from it.
“‘An Ifrit from the jinn said: “I will bring it to you before you rise from your place. And verily, I am indeed strong, and trustworthy for such work. One with who was knowledge of the Scripture said: “I will bring it to you within the twinkling of an eye!” Then when Solomon saw it placed before him, he said: “This is by the Grace of
my Lord to test me whether I am grateful or ungrateful! And whoever is grateful, truly, his gratitude is for (the good of) his ownself; and whoever is ungrateful, (he is ungrateful only for the loss of his ownself). Certainly my Lord is Rich (Free of all needs), Bountiful.’” Qur’an Sura An-Naml (27:39-40).
Felipe burned with curiosity. He picked up another book from the pile and read it cover to cover. By morning, Felipe had read every book. There was one name that stuck in his head, it was mentioned repeatedly, a powerful witch who lived in the small village of Zugarramurdi near the Pyrenees Mountains in Navarre—Diomira.
“This bruja, I must find her. Perhaps she can lift the curse,” Felipe whispered to himself.
THE DEVIL INSIDE
Fear and panic soon swept through the nearby villages and coastal areas of Andalusia. Villagers and townspeople were terrorized by what they described as a giant winged Ifrit, with horrifying black eyes and five rows of pointed teeth, appearing inside their homes, devouring women, men, and children while they slept in their beds. Other witnesses said the Ifrit could shape shift, often appearing as loved ones saying goodnight to little children, and then turning into the monster, and drinking children’s blood.
The streets were deserted before dark as talk of the Ifrit grew. Peasants closed and locked their doors. Farmers stood watch over their fields, armed and ready with arrows. News of the vampire traveled fast, causing widespread fear throughout all of Spain as Spaniards everywhere spoke of el bebedor de sangre (the blood drinker), el cuegle who had left scores of bloodless, half-eaten bodies lying in the streets.
The news of the vampire reached the very doorstep of the private chambers of Archbishop de Acuña. The middle-aged archbishop sat at the head of a large oak meeting table, at the Catedral de Toledo along with the Inquisitor Manuel Álvarez, a tall, gaunt, pinched faced, needle-nosed man, and the—most-feared—Executioner Brother Carlos Diego. The brutish, bald, muscle-bound, Dominican Monk earned his reputation due to his special brand of torture.
“This devil must be stopped,” the archbishop said, pounding his fist on the table. “The creature has destroyed all the livestock in Andalusia and is growing stronger. Now the beast is feasting on people—snatching men and women right out of their beds as they sleep.”
The inquisitor’s face reddened as he cleared his throat. “Your Excellency, there have been recent reports that the monster has been seen in broad daylight.”
“Reports also say the creature can disappear in a blink of an eye and take on many guises. It can change into a wolf, a bat or any person it wishes.” The archbishop’s gaze shot about the table suspiciously.
The executioner, who had sat silently with his arms folded across his chest, with a terrible scowl on his face, finally spoke.
“Just last week, a blood-soaked boy ran wild through the streets of Toledo, screaming that his mother was feasting on his father.” His voice quivered with emotion. “When soldiers arrived at the boy’s home, they found the half-eaten remains of the boy’s parents.”
“No one is safe, Your Excellency. We must find this vampiro, this cuegle or whatever it is and destroy it,” the inquisitor said.
The executioner scratched his bushy mustache. He frowned, with a troubled look. “Yes, but how can we destroy the creature, Manuel? The beast can fly and disappear at will. No one has been able to get close enough to kill it.”
“Well, if we don’t find a way to stop it soon, we will all perish at the hands of this unmerciful devil,” Archbishop de Acuña said.
A knock at the door caused the three clergymen to jump in their seats with fear. In walked a diminutive, freakish-looking, deformed, male messenger. The man was plump with a hunched back, a reddened and weathered beaten face. Both his nose and his neck were both riddled with carbuncles. His garments were dusty and he had a peculiar foul odor, similar to that of a rotting corpse.
The clergymen reacted violently to the messenger’s repugnant odor, scrambling through their pockets, looking for handkerchiefs, anything they could find to cover their noses.
The messenger bowed, waddled over to the archbishop. Clumsily he knelt down on his left knee. He moved closer to the archbishop’s hand and puckered his chapped, blood-blistered, skin-encrusted lips to kiss the bishop’s Episcopal ring. The archbishop snatched his hand back, leaving the messenger kissing empty air.
The courier gave the archbishop a crooked smiled.
“Your Excellency,” he said, breathing hard. “I have an urgent message for you.” He handed the archbishop a sealed letter. Judging from the amount of dirt collected underneath the man’s fingernails, it looked as if he had dug his way through tons of earth.
Archbishop de Acuña curled up his lip in indignation as he reached for the letter. The messenger’s fingers left five black smudge marks on the parchment. The archbishop wiped the letter with his handkerchief, before breaking open the seal. He read the letter and smiled, but the stench from the messenger overwhelmed him and his smile quickly faded.
“How soon can your master be here?”
“In a day, Your Excellency,” the man said, revealing a set of rotten teeth.
The archbishop was so overwhelmed by the messenger’s foul breath and decaying teeth that he felt the onset of nausea. He covered his hand over his nose, waving for the messenger to leave the chamber.
WITCHY WOMAN
It was nightfall when Felipe appeared in the small village of Zugarramurdi. He stood in a meadow at the mouth of a cave in the Pyrenees Mountains, but Felipe had not arrived alone, Lilith had followed him. She peered from around a tree, watching.
“I knew you would take the bait and come to Diomira. Just what are you up to, Felipe?”
An owl flew overhead and perched itself on a branch beside her. Lilith felt something slithering about her feet and she looked down. It was her guardian serpent.
“A worshiper once told me a witch slipped into the temple undetected. I know it was Diomira, she is the only witch powerful enough to have gotten into the temple. What I want to know is how she did it. What magick does she possess? You two shall serve as my eyes and ears. Find out what my husband is doing here and tell me Diomira’s secrets.”
Lilith disappeared in a rolling cloud of smoke.
* * *
“I am looking for the witch Diomira,” Felipe said in a loud, commanding voice. Felipe heard a woman whispering on the wind. Something quickly rushed past him, causing the candle burning in the cleft of the cave’s entrance to flicker. “Show yourself, witch! I have no patience for your games. I am an immortal and I do not fear your magick.”
A woman stepped out of the shadow. “I’ve been expecting you Felipe or should I say vampiro?” Diomira cooed.
“How did you know I was coming here?”
“I saw you in my divination mirror,” she said.
“What, may I ask, is a divination mirror?”
Diomira did not answer him.
Felipe stared at the witch. She was not what he’d expected. He imagined her as an old hag or some loathsome creature. Instead, Diomira was quite exquisite, with well-proportioned features. Her skin was like satin. She was no more than twenty-five years of age, medium height, and curvy. She had long, cascading, ash brown, wavy hair and deep-set, golden eyes draped sexily with long eyelashes and soft, pouty lips.
Her dress would rival any aristocrat’s attire. It was colorful brocade, with strands of pearls sown on the bodice and spun-gold trim down the sides and bottom of the dress. Her bodice was tight across her bosom, showing off her overflowing, deep cleavage, which she unapologetically flaunted.
Felipe’s eyes trailed down Diomira’s sexy body down to her feet. To his surprise, she was barefoot. He looked up into the soft glint in her eyes. Felipe swore he blushed. He cleared his throat.
“Since you know what I am, then you must know why I have come.”
“Indeed, I do.”
“It is rumored you are the wisest and most powerful bruja in all of Spain.”
> “Rest assured, Felipe, the rumors are true,” she said, batting her long eyelashes. Diomira looked over her shoulders to the tree where Lilith was hiding. “Come inside. It’s not wise to speak of such matters out in the open. The woods have eyes and ears.”
“Come, this way,” Diomira said.
Felipe followed the witch into a cave. Surprisingly, it, too, was not what he had expected. He was greeted by the sweet smell of jasmine, honeysuckle, and lavender. The cave was spacious and its walls and earthen floor sparkled like diamonds in the dancing flames of the candlelight. Parts of its caverns were sectioned off with brightly colored, silk scarves and tapestries, giving the appearance of rooms in a home. Crudely made wooden chairs and a table, woven with strong twine lined a cooking area, complete with a cauldron.
“Please have a seat. I’ll only be a moment.”
Felipe’s eyes followed the witch closely as she pulled back layers of colorful, beaded, silk scarves that draped over the cave’s stalagmite archway, which formed a natural curtain rod. From out of the corner of his eye, he could see Diomira’s sleeping quarters. It was fairly large, and a small, hand-carved, wooden bed that rested in the center. It was carved from a tree that had fallen into the cave. Dark, leafy green vines had wrapped themselves around the bed. It was dressed with the softest of silk linens and plush, satin pillows that made it look comfortable and inviting.
Diomira bent over to retrieve an object from underneath the bed and Felipe couldn’t help but stare. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the witch had a curvaceous backside—firm and round. He grinned.
Diomira walked back to where Felipe was sitting and placed a crude mirror on the floor beside him. The mirror was made of different animal bones that had been hallowed out, sown, and bound by thick black cords. The glass of the mirror was polished rainbow obsidian, which had the colors of the rainbow marbled inside. She sat crossed-legged on the earthen floor in front of Felipe. He tried to scan the witch’s thoughts, but he could not.
Eye of Saturn (The Daughters of Saturn Book 1) Page 22