by Lund, S. E.
I take it from him and examine it. The cameo is beautiful, made from what looks like Onyx, and in the shape of a white fleur-de-lis against a black background. It's about the size of a nickel and delicate. He fastens it behind my neck and positions it so that the cameo falls just at the base of my throat.
"Beautiful."
He takes my hand and leads me to the antique bureau with a large mirror and stands me in front of it so I can see what it looks like on me. I stand there with the cameo choker around my neck and examine my reflection. He pulls my hair away from my face, holding it up in a loose ponytail so that long tendrils fall around the nape of my neck. He bends down and places his mouth over his bite mark possessively.
"You are so lovely," he says and pushes me back, lying on top of me. "You are truly all mine. Keats never had Fanny the way he wanted, Eve, but I have you. I've always thought how tragic was his love story with Fanny. He so capable of loving her entirely and completely and unable to have her that way. I've wanted you so long and now you are mine."
"My Lord," I say, enjoying his weight on top of me. "We've only known each other for four months. You haven't waited long at all."
"I feel like I've known you for eight hundred years."
I frown. "What do you mean?"
"I was there when you were conceived, Eve," Michel says and strokes my cheek. "I saw your mother's ultrasound at eighteen weeks when we discovered your siblings had all died in utero. I was there when you were born, waiting outside the delivery room. I saw your first recital. I saw your last recital before your mother died."
He kisses me and I respond despite my confusion.
"You were there when I was conceived?"
"Soren's scientists used your mother's egg and father's sperm. They infused the fertilized egg with selected DNA that had been manipulated to include some from an Ancient, and some from another human."
"What other human?" I say, a sense of dread filling me.
"You have some of your mother in you – what we needed. Your fight skills, your telepathy. You have some Ancient DNA that gives you the ability to act as a conduit between vampires and Ancients."
"Which Ancient?" I say, alarm filling me. "Not Soren…"
"Yes," Michel says. "You are his creature."
I can't even think at this point. Soren is not my father. I have some of his DNA – that's all.
"Who else? What other human?"
Michel doesn't say anything for a while. Finally, he takes a lock of my hair between his fingers and holds it up to his nose. "Danielle."
Danielle? "But," I say and can't speak for a moment, confused. "She died… You killed her!"
"We dug up her bones and used her DNA. There are techniques, Eve, that never existed until now to extract DNA from hip bones. There was enough to use to make you look like her. Your hair. Your eyes. Your build. The shape of your nose. Your chin. Your long neck. But your dimples, they're your mother's. Your freckles? They're from your father."
My eyes widen.
"But why?"
"Soren promised me that if I was at his side, he'd make you for me. You see, he played us both, Julien and I. Promising us both a copy of you in return for our obedience and compliance with his plan. Then, your siblings died in utero and there was only one of you. He thought that was even better – to have us both enslaved to him, fighting over you."
I lie there, unable to speak or even think, while he kisses my neck. I try to understand – I'm not Danielle. I look like her, but I'm my mother's daughter. I'm my father's daughter. I have her dimples. I have his freckles.
Michel calms me and I don't cry although tears threaten at the corners of my eyes.
"Soren created me for you?"
"His scientists created three of you, one for me and one for Julien and one spare. You were the only one to survive."
"Why are you telling me this now? You should have told me before!"
"Would it have made a difference? Would you have felt differently?"
I don't know if I would. All I know is that my hatred for Soren is growing so great, I feel as if I might explode. Michel kisses my neck and releases more endorphins to calm me and my body relaxes but my mind won't shut down.
"So you and Julien were waiting for me to grow up to see which one I’d choose?"
"No," Michel says. "I lost you on purpose so neither of us would have you. So Soren wouldn't use you. Then, you had to get those files from the university. I had no idea where you were or that you'd try. I had no idea that Julien gave that manuscript to your mother. I did everything I could to stop this from happening. Fate had other plans for us, Eve."
I lay there and let the knowledge wash over me. No wonder he and Julien are unwilling to give me up. They both wanted Danielle when they were human. Now, here I am, looking so much like her, with even with some of her DNA in me. Soren is such a bastard to manipulate them through me…
I close my eyes and try to shut my brain off. When Michel feels me give in, he starts kissing me again. I lie there and try to not think for the thoughts are still too confusing and upsetting.
I shut it off. I'm so confused, and Michel is so insistent, kissing me, his hand stroking down my body. When he opens himself to me so that I feel his love, his desire, I give in.
This is what I wrote about in my journal – how I wanted him. Our connection makes it all the more intense as I feel what he feels, and it's like fulfillment to him.
I'm what he's waited for since he saw me in the Linguistics Building – that day which feels as if it never happened and even before that, when Soren first proposed the deal that would have Michel and Julien as his servants.
Once he's secure that I can obey him fully and without question, we'll kill Soren.
Chapter 76
"True strength lies in submission which permits one to dedicate his life, through devotion, to something beyond himself."
Henry Miller
* * *
He kisses me one last time before he blows out the candle.
"Good night, Eve," he says, his face nestled in the crook of my neck.
"Good night, Michel."
I feel his smile against my neck. I'm going to call him Michel when we're in private. I don't want to forget that I'm not a pet every hour of the day.
I'm me.
We're Lord and servant because we have a mission. I turn over and face him and he adjusts his head on the pillow. Despite the darkness, I can see his face with my hunter vision and because of the moonlight flooding in from the window.
"When we kill Soren," I say and tuck his hair behind his ear, "Will we go back to being an ordinary couple?"
"Whatever you wish, Eve."
"Have you seen it?" I ask. "Us being normal?"
He clucks his tongue. "You don’t believe I can see the future."
I say nothing for a moment. I don't believe it. But still…
"In your," I say and hesitate. "Visions, or whatever they are, are we together after we kill Soren?"
"Yes. After a fashion. Not like this in every possible future." He smiles softly. "It's enough that you're alive and that I'm with you."
I just look at his face, at his eyes – those thick black lashes that belong on a woman, not a man. That square jaw that's all man.
"What about Julien?"
"What about him?" Michel says, his words clipped.
"You know what I mean. You said he was expecting to have me. It explains a lot."
"Forget about that. I don’t want to talk about Julien, Eve. I just want to be with you. And right now, I want to sleep," he says and closes his eyes.
He doesn’t want a future with Julien in it, at least, not one with Julien trying to get me back. I can't help but wonder how Julien is and I feel traitorous. How can I think of Julien when I'm here with Michel and am so happy? I feel so possessed. So wanted. So desired.
I sigh and turn over so that my back's toward Michel and close my eyes, trying to shut my mind off. Michel squeezes me, his naked s
kin against me. He must do something to me for I finally relax and stop thinking, just listen instead to the sound of his breathing.
* * *
When I wake, I catch a glimpse of Michel through the open door to the bathroom. He's dressed in his robe while servants pour buckets of hot water into the tub. I sit up and keep the blankets around me, watching as Michel pours some bath salts into the water. He turns back to the room and sees me sitting on the bed.
Before he can come to get me, another servant enters the room and goes to his side. They speak briefly and then Michel shakes his head as if upset. He speaks to the other servants and then comes into the bedroom.
"Eve," he says. "I'm called out to see Soren. I have to go right away, but you go ahead and have a bath, then eat your breakfast. Wear something from the clothes I've provided for you. I've picked them out myself. I'll see what he wants and then be back."
"Yes, my Lord," I say because one of the servants is in the room, stoking the fire, and I don't want to show disrespect.
"Good," he says and reaches out to stroke my cheek. "Thank you for understanding," he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper.
I have a nice long soak in the tub and then dress in one of the dresses in the armoire. They're all formal and more fitting to a night out than a day spent at home. I pick the most casual dress, a long black silk dress with a very low décolletage, a square neckline and fitted bodice. I feel like a lady from some medieval court and smile to myself, wondering if Michel will just take it off once he gets back. I probably should have stayed in my robe and nightgown.
I eat my breakfast of poached eggs, orange juice and coffee and wonder what Soren's up to, calling Michel away so early in the morning. It can't be good. I wonder what new form of torture he'll inflict on us all. I wonder what Julien is doing and if he's unconcerned about my being with Michel. I kick myself mentally for even thinking of Julien when I've been with Michel.
I will not become Marguerite.
* * *
It's while Michel's away that I start to explore the mansion a bit, checking out the library where I find thousands of volumes, old and new. Then I find a dark wood-paneled room that seems like an office and go inside. In the corner is a huge wooden cabinet and I open it, curious to see what's inside.
Bingo...
Boxes from my apartment – my own things, and my mother's files. Immediately, I know the one document I want to read more than any other – that report prepared by the Council on the prophecy Dylan mentioned. St. Therese of the Reeds.
I start to sort through the files, sitting on the floor by the closet. I find the file after about ten minutes of flipping through the file box contents. Inside is a typewritten report titled "Revelation of St. Therese of the Reeds" – Analysis and Conjecture. Included is a photocopy of the original document written in the Third Century in some language I can't read, and a typewritten translation.
I lean against the closet and start to read:
* * *
This being the revelation of The LORD God, as shown to His humble servant Therese of Aquitaine, by an angel of The LORD to whom God sent to bring the prophecy and news to all who have ears to hear. Blessed are those who read the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take heed what is written in it. Let it be known that the time will come when the children of God shall weep and moan, for an ancient evil will rise. Only the Sword of Megiddo shall free those who suffer slavery to the Fallen Ones who pollute the earth with their pestilence.
I, Therese, your sister and daughter and companion in the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance that are ours in Jesus, was among the people of Persia, where I sat by a river along the Euphrates, in the place that Adam and Eve once lived, called Paradise, or Eden, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a horn, which said: “Write what you see and send it to the seven churches: to Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea.”
I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw a being with wings of grey dressed in a uniform with leather breastplate and helmet, a huge sword in its hand. Behold, an angel of The LORD, an Archangel, come to bring news of the end of days. His skin and hair was as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance.
I fell to my knees before him, my eyes burning from the brightness of his countenance. When he touched me, I saw a vision of the future and fear was in my heart for a rain of blood fell from a cloudless sky and all was cold and dark. One would come, the Angel told me, who would take over the holy Church, and fight those who would enslave the Children of God across the world. He would wield one weapon that could save those who faced the blood tribulation – a double–edged sword of dark and light, but the one who wields the sword must be pure of heart for the blade is a harsh mistress and he who wields her should regret the day they raised it not in service of The LORD.
"Woe is to him who wields this weapon who is not pure in the ways of The LORD for it shall destroy them," the Angel of The LORD said unto me. “Write what you have seen, and what will come to be. Let those who have ears to hear and eyes to see take heed, and find the one who wields this weapon that The LORD has provided to fight this pestilence. Follow him and heed his word for it is he whom The LORD GOD sent to save the world from perdition.
Just a lot of mumbo jumbo from a young woman visiting Persia, probably suffering from some kind of tropical disease and having visions. But something nags at me. A rain of blood? That sounds too much like the red rain for my comfort. All would be dark and cold? Sounds like what's happening in the areas hit by the red rain. A being with grey wings and white hair and skin? With eyes that burn like fire… It sounds too much like Soren – or at least another vampire – for it to be a coincidence.
Was it Soren? Did he plant this prophecy so long ago as a way of manipulating us? Or, like Michel, did he see the future and was trying to use it to his advantage? I just don't know what to believe but whatever the truth, I suspect that it's part of some grand plot of his to take power.
I put away the boxes but keep the file from Seth and a few of my mother's on angels and go back to the bedroom. I sit on the bed and open a document and search for what angels are supposed to look like, and the descriptions come back very similar to what St. Therese described – huge wings, white skin and hair, red eyes, blinding brilliance, booming voice. Not that I believe in angels, but perhaps all accounts of angelic beings really are just accounts of Ancients trying to appear to be angels as a way of manipulating poor religiously-susceptible mortals.
Then read the report prepared by some nameless researcher for the Council. It reads like a serious paper with footnotes and annotations, referring to other authors and to literature on angels, on ancient prophecies, to swords of power in myth, on the Plains of Megiddo where the battle of Armageddon is supposed to take place – somewhere in Palestine. It says that the battle will be fought by two opposing forces – those mortals who want to rid the world of vampires and the vampires who seek their Dominion over mortals. The Ancients will jockey for power over what remains.
The Sword of Megiddo itself is seen as either real or symbolic. If real, it is judged to be the sword that the Archangel Michael used to defeat Lucifer in the original battle before the creation of humans. It is not known where this sword might be located but there is a section on speculation as to its location in Palestine, perhaps in Jerusalem itself, buried somewhere in the ruins of King Solomon's Temple. There's a section that speculates about the role of the Knights Templar in protecting that sword and keeping it safe for the future. That they carried the secret of its location away from Palestine when they were disbanded in the 13th Century and that it is now hidden somewhere in Scotland.
Other speculation is that the Sword of Megiddo is metaphorical and refers to people or a person instead of an actual sword. This line of thought has the weapon being a powerful warrior who will fight against the Fallen, against the
Ancients, and will destroy their leader and them. I think of Julien, an ascended vampire, former knight, manipulated by Blackstone to be a day walker. I think of Soren, who was so prominent in the peace negotiations in Palestine, with his militia and soldier of fortune business and his goal of becoming the God of War reborn.
It's as I'm reading the final page that Michel returns and finds me absorbed in the document.
"What have you got there?" he says as he enters the bedroom and sees me reclining on the bed with papers spread around me. He comes to the side of the bed and touches my cheek when I sit up and face him. "That's quite interesting reading," he says. "And was never meant for your eyes."
"Seth gave it to me – one of the techies at the SCU."
"I know who Seth is."
I hold up the photocopy of the scrolls written by Therese. "Do you believe this?"
"It's hard to know what to believe with these apocryphal gospels." He scans Council report. "I remember reading this when it was first sent out to Council members. There are some pretty shocking parallels in it. The rain of blood seems to refer to the red rainfall we had. The description of the archangel sounds a lot like an Ancient."
"I've only ever seen Soren, my Lord. Do they all look like him, with white hair and skin?"
He nods. "They're northern because the Nephilim were up north looking for new peoples to conquer and those were the only group to survive the flood in the Middle East."
I sigh, not knowing what to believe. "Speaking of the devil, what did Soren want?"
Michel pushes the papers away and sits on the bed beside me. He takes my hand and waits.
"I'm sorry," I say and roll my eyes. "My Lord."
"He wants us to go to his estate and live there. Today. He's having a grand party tonight and wants you to be with me."
"Why do we have to live there, my Lord? Will Julien be there tonight as well?"