The audience at an end, Isabella watched as the strange man bowed his head and backed away as if he was gliding on air.
*******
The terrified girl could hear the rattle of keys just before the cell door creaked open. Her screams were muffled by the gag in her mouth, and the ropes dug into her skin as she struggled against them.
The friar silently approached her. “Foolish girl, your primitive beauty has undone you. Had you been hardened and plain like your mother, you would not have attracted the attention of that feckless boy. The note you received begging you to elope did not come from him. I have had to resort to these measures for a long time, but that will soon end. You may take comfort from the fact that God welcomes all innocents into His kingdom, and you will behold Him soon. As for myself, the name of Dujot would not be pleasing to His ears.”
He pulled back the hood of his robe and opened his mouth wide, exposing his canine fangs. In an instant he was upon her, sinking them deep into her throat.
*******
The first ritual penance of the condemned heretics rooted out by the friar took place in 1481. Six people were burned alive. As they were being tied to the stakes, those gathered to watch the macabre event saw the marks of torture on their bodies — burns from red-hot pokers and bloodied, swollen eyes that had been squeezed under pressure by a knotted rope. And there was something else: the necks of the condemned contained puncture wounds that had been inflicted by some unknown device.
PORTENT
Tenochtitlan, 1508
Montezuma vigorously chewed the dried coca leaves mixed with lime juice. The lime and his saliva acted as an alkali, causing the leaves to release the cocaine within them. A servant placed a new bowl filled with psilocybe mushrooms at his side, and he robotically partook of them as he continued to chew and pray.
Bestow on me your wisdom, Quetzalcoatl. The date of your return draws near, yet the omens point to our destruction. Why, Quetzalcoatl, why?
As he turned his head to look at his surroundings, the images were frozen for an instant then became animated…frozen then animated…frozen then animated…
Time is being altered!
As the hallucinogens in Montezuma’s system took effect, a shiny speck appeared in front of him and enlarged to the size of an apple then silently popped, sending out silver sparks. More specks appeared and repeated the psychedelic fireworks, but Quetzalcoatl did not make an appearance.
The priests presented Montezuma with a rare bird. As he gazed intently at its colorful crest, he saw a vision of white-skinned men with facial hair riding four-legged animals resembling deer. Grasping the bird by the head, he parted its feathers with his hands in an attempt to see the images more clearly. Sparks were emanating from sticks carried by the pale riders as thousands of Aztecs were trampled to death.
Quetzalcoatl’s white-skinned soldiers are coming to destroy us!
Montezuma took out his obsidian knife and repeatedly stabbed the bird, hacking it to pieces.
*******
As the royal barge made its way on Lake Texcoco, Montezuma was mesmerized by the motion of the paddles that carried him toward the capital city of Tenochtitlan. Images of the white-skinned army that Quetzalcoatl would dispatch to destroy the Aztecs filled his head. The flashing silver sparks in his peripheral vision dissipated as he reached the city.
A greeting party awaited him at the dock, but their grim expressions betrayed bad news.
“Beloved King and Emperor,” said an official, “it grieves me to inform you that your sister is dead.”
“Paranazin, dead?” asked Montezuma. “She’s never been sick a day in her life! What happened?”
“Her ladies said she suddenly fell asleep, and they were unable to rouse her,” explained the official. “The physicians came at once, but it was to no avail.”
“Had she been feeling unwell?” asked Montezuma, struggling to maintain an air of royal aloofness.
“No, Sire,” answered the official.
“When?” asked Montezuma.
“Three days ago, Sire.”
“Conduct me to her crypt so that I may pay my respects,” said Montezuma.
“She has not been interred yet, Sire,” said the official.
“Three days dead?” Montezuma roared. “We cannot possibly give her a public funeral in that condition!”
“Sire,” said the official, “the physicians are at a loss to explain it…there has been no decomposition.”
“Take me to her at once!” exclaimed Montezuma.
*******
Eleven stasis pods floated silently together in a stable Low Earth Orbit. Fifty-nine years earlier, the Isla’s passenger pods were jettisoned as the ship broke apart after a thruster malfunction sent it plunging into Earth’s atmosphere.
The first group of pods that made contact with the thermosphere were incinerated, but the majority that followed survived the fiery atmospheric entry and landed safely in Transylvania.
Unbeknownst to the survivors on the ground, a handful of pods had bounced off the atmosphere back into the cold reaches of space. Their damaged systems were incapable of individually generating the heat shield essential for atmospheric entry, so the navigation computers sought each other out in order to form a collective shield. The process was painfully slow, but it made no difference to the unconscious occupants. Eventually, every stray pod would drift close enough to the collective to be captured. As soon as a combined shield strong enough to pass the statistical survival threshold was generated, an atmospheric entry would be attempted.
In the distance, a spinning pod approached the collective. Upon detection, precise thruster override commands were relayed to it, and the pod took its place in the formation.
One errant pod remained. It was only a matter of time until the formation would be complete.
*******
The funeral procession slowly made its way to the pyramid containing the crypts of Montezuma’s family. As the mourners caught sight of Paranazin, they shook in fear. Her corpse was so life-like, it looked as if she was merely sleeping. There was talk among the priests that it was a sign from the gods that they desired her to join their ranks.
The physicians remained confounded — no signs of life were present, yet her body refused to surrender to the process of decomposition.
At the crypt entrance, Montezuma stood clutching a bouquet of water lilies. Placing them on top of her hands, he bent down and kissed her forehead.
“Farewell, Paranazin,” he whispered. “Your beauty will dazzle Mictlantecuhtli.”
He turned from her and walked slowly away, refusing to watch her being sealed into the cold crypt. A familiar voice startled him, and he could not believe his eyes when he looked back.
It’s Paranazin!
Paranazin screamed as she sat upright. Mourners, priests, and officials crowded around her.
“Get back!” commanded Montezuma. “Give her space!”
Rushing to her side, Montezuma grasped Paranazin’s hands.
“Brother!” she exclaimed. “I have seen it! I have seen it!”
“Tell me!” he cried.
“Mictlantecuhtli would not grant me entry to Mictlan, since I was not dead,” she gasped. “He showed me the future and sent me back to tell you! Ships are arriving from a distant land carrying white-skinned beings with heads encased in metal and weapons emitting fire! They come with the sole purpose of bringing about our death and destruction!”
FORGIVENESS
Wallachia, 1509
Ephraim turned his head away from the horrific sight and pressed his hands against his ears to block out the sucking noises. The macabre scene had been repeated ten nights in a row, and he and one other person were all that remained in the cage. Although he was a man of the cloth, Ephraim had stopped praying after the third night of his captivity. Each time the cage was opened, he had prepared himself to meet death with the consolation that he would not go meekly as a lamb to the slaughter. If he could have g
otten hold of poison, he would have gladly taken it in the hope of transferring it to the demons who would feast upon him. He envisioned killing every last one of them slowly and used those grisly images in his head to retain his sanity.
As a young boy, he had heard tales about vampires who fed off human blood. If the victim was lucky, they were merely killed for food and not transformed into a demon. Stories of those who had seen their loved ones returning as blood-suckers abounded, yet no one could ever produce a single witness to verify such incredible claims.
As Ephraim had grown into manhood, he discounted the stories as folklore designed to keep curious children safe indoors at night.
He now knew all too well that the stories were true and why there were no living witnesses left to warn humanity. Reproaching himself for dismissing the tales, he wondered how he could have laughed at the idea of evil spirits existing while so readily believing in God.
“Give me the last rites, priest,” pleaded the woman in the cage with him.
“I am no longer a priest,” said Ephraim. “The evil here blinds even God’s eyes.”
“Then kill me,” she said, leaning back and exposing her throat. “If you have lost your faith, then what hope have I of retaining mine?”
Ephraim placed his fingers around her throat and began to squeeze then suddenly stopped. Images of Christians who were fed alive to the lions in ancient Rome filled his head. The poor wretches had died horribly for refusing to renounce their faith. Ephraim had taken a solemn vow, and if he had naively thought he would never face becoming a martyr, his vows had no meaning. Making the sign of the cross on the woman’s forehead, he spoke the last rites, keenly aware that they also applied to himself.
The woman smiled serenely. “God is not finished with us yet.”
“What is your name, sister?” asked Ephraim.
“Miriam,” she said.
“Miriam, you were sent by God to restore my faith,” he whispered as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Certain he would die that night, Ephraim began to pray.
I am afraid, Lord. Give me the strength to endure what is to come and welcome me into Your Kingdom.
“Look, Kira, the priest is crying!” snickered a large male to his female companion.
The male did not wipe the blood dripping from his mouth as he pressed his face against the cage. “You should be happy, priest,” he taunted. “We have just sent another of your flock to meet your deity. You shall behold Him yourself soon enough, but we’re saving you for last.”
Ephraim looked into the male’s eyes. “The hunger you possess is consuming you. You gorge yourself but are never sated. Find peace in God’s love and forgiveness.”
“Ha!” the male cried. “God does not count my kind among his children. Your words are wasted on me.”
The male turned his attention to another of his group sitting with his back turned to him.
“Boris,” barked the male. “Shall we transform the priest for you? I am growing tired of your miserable countenance. Would you like a friend to whom you can confess your sins?”
Kira laughed sarcastically.
“You know what I want, Johep,” said Boris. “Return me to my family.”
“We’ve gone through that already,” said Johep with a sigh. “They would kill you on sight for being the demon you have become. But Kira and I will honor our agreement with you — as long as you contribute to the hunt, we will stay away from your village.”
Kira suddenly stood up and sniffed the air, and Johep did the same.
A blur of figures ran at them from all directions. Ephraim and Miriam heard a high-pitched hum and saw three flashes of light, after which their captors lay motionless on the ground.
One of their rescuers walked to the cage and used the strange weapon he carried to vaporize the lock. “Do not be afraid,” he said. “My name is Jasper and you are free now. We have water and food for you.”
“I am Ephraim,” said the priest, “and this is Miriam.”
“I am Emanui,” said another rescuer as she handed Miriam a flask of water, “and the two men behind me are J’Vor and Tariq.”
“What type of weapons were those that brought down the demons?” asked Ephraim.
“The only thing that can stop them at night,” answered J’Vor, “short of a dagger in the brain or decapitation.”
“But how—” began Ephraim.
“There is no time to explain,” said Tariq. “We must transport the demons to our home base before they wake up.”
“Wake up?” asked Miriam. “Why didn’t you kill them? Do you have any idea what they have done? There were originally twelve of us in that cage! Some were children!”
“I can assure you,” said Emanui, “they will never partake of blood again.”
“How?” demanded Ephraim. “How can you possibly give such an assurance?”
“If we were to tell you, you would not believe it,” said Jasper, “and we will have wasted precious time.”
Picking up one of unconscious bodies and slinging it over his shoulder, Jasper turned to walk away.
“I know your secret,” said Miriam to them. “The vampires originally came from another planet, using knowledge more advanced than ours by thousands of years.”
Jasper came to an abrupt halt, while Ephraim looked disbelievingly at Miriam.
“How did you come by this knowledge?” J’Vor asked Miriam.
“When I was little, an old man from my village claimed he had been saved from a vampire by strangers with weapons that emitted blinding rays,” she said. “No one believed his stories of the vampires being from another world, including myself…until now.”
“We have neutralized hundreds of them,” admitted Jasper. “But if even one eludes us, he or she is capable of replacing their numbers by finding new humans to transform.”
“You’re going to take us with you,” said Ephraim. It was not a plea, but a statement. “God allowed us to witness their atrocities and spared us for a reason. It is His will for us to take up the struggle against evil.”
Miriam nodded in agreement.
Tariq looked at his comrades. “They have asked for sanctuary. Kevak has made it abundantly clear what we must do.”
“Sanctuary has only ever applied to the transformed,” said Emanui.
“Then we must let Kevak decide,” said J’Vor.
*******
When the group was within a mile of the Isla’s cloaked lifeboat, Miriam and Ephraim were blindfolded.
“We cannot allow you to know the location of our base at this time,” said Jasper.
Upon reaching their destination, J’Vor relayed the passcode from his palmcom, and the hatch flickered into view. Once they were inside, the blindfolds were removed.
“Where are we?” asked Ephraim as he looked around at the metallic walls and strange rectangular objects with blinking lights.
“All will be explained soon,” said Jasper. “Your captors must first be put into stasis.”
“Stasis?” asked Miriam.
“Come with me into the conference room,” said Emanui as the others left with the unconscious prisoners.
When they were seated at the table, Ephraim marveled at its metallic composition while he waited silently with Miriam. The door opened, and Tariq walked in, followed by Jasper and J’Vor.
“You must prepare yourselves for a shock,” said Tariq. “The stories about the demons coming from another world are true. The universe does not consist of planet Earth alone. The sun you see in the daytime is just like one of the countless numbers of stars in the night sky. Many of those stars are suns to planets of their own, and some of those planets support life like Earth. This place is all that remains of a ship that transported beings from another world. Their planet was called Vambiri, and it was devastated by a cosmic event. Their escape ship malfunctioned upon arriving on Earth, and the survivors were stranded here with dangerously low rations.”
“The journey from Vambiri to Ea
rth took thousands of years,” continued J’Vor, “and during that time they slept in chambers called stasis pods. When their ship broke apart, the pods were ejected, and Transylvanian villagers discovered and opened the first ones during the daytime. Sunlight is fatal to the Vambir, and the occupant burst into flames upon being exposed. The villagers believed the Vambir were demons.”
“What did these Vambir look like?” asked Ephraim.
The door to the conference room slid open, and a tall, robed figure walked in and took a seat at the table. As it lifted its hands to draw back the hood, Ephraim and Miriam saw that they resembled large talons. The face the hood had concealed was slowly revealed. It had chalk-white skin, an elongated, bald head, pointed ears, and a pair of central fangs protruding from the mouth.
“Nosferatu!” exclaimed Miriam.
Ephraim made the sign of the cross and struggled to keep his composure.
“My name is Kevak,” the creature said softly. “Nosferatu was the name given to me by those who blamed me for the murders committed by the Vambir.”
“But our captors were human,” said Miriam.
Kevak slowly shook his head. “One of them is not. When the Vambir inadvertently discovered human blood had the same nutrients as the plant-based food source on Vambiri, they gave in to the hunger instead of reducing themselves to starvation rations for the time it would take to harvest new crops. Ingesting blood brought about a physical transformation that made the Vambir appear human.”
“The one called Johep implied he was not from this world,” recalled Miriam.
“I did not undergo the transformation because I never ingested blood,” said Kevak.
“But if the other two captors are human,” said Miriam. “How was it possible for them to become demons?”
“The transformation works both ways,” explained Kevak. “The Vambir called the humans they transformed ‘vampires,’ which means ‘sub-Vambir.’ There are very few Vambir remaining. Most were eliminated when Mehmed the Conqueror launched a surprise attack on the isolated monastery they had taken over.”
The Nosferatu Chronicles: The Aztec God Page 2