by Lund, S. E.
"No makeup," he says.
"Why?" I say and look at his reflection in the mirror. "My Lord?"
"Just don't."
I shrug. I look much younger without makeup but he must want that. I brush my hair and twist it up, securing it with a few clips. I turn to him and hold my arms out at my sides.
"Well, here I am, for what it’s worth."
"You're priceless, Eve."
I smile. "You're exaggerating."
"No, I'm not." He comes to me and puts one arm around my waist, pulling me against him, and gently he pulls a few tendrils of my hair out of my makeshift bun. "You look … angelic. The way they're supposed to be."
"Obviously, I'm no angel."
"You are. Now, let's go. Just follow my lead. Remember to keep your eyes down."
"What are you planning?"
He places his finger over my lips. "Shh," he says. "Just obey tonight."
I nod. "Yes, my Lord."
* * *
We drive to the cathedral in the old vehicle rigged up with a hydrogen cell battery. It's a rough ride through a dark city, only a few lights in a few locations where once there were thousands of offices lit all night. We arrive at the Holy Cross Cathedral and once more I'm struck by a deep sadness, remembering the last time I was here, for Mass the Sunday before my mother died. I stop at the door at the side entrance reserved for clergy.
"Don't be afraid," Michel says and squeezes my hand. "Tonight's just a dry run. There will be only a small congregation to see how things will go. Just do as you're told and we'll be finished soon and will go back home. Soren's not planning anything big for a while."
"You were nervous earlier, my Lord," I say. "I could feel it."
"There is always danger, Eve. I'm always concerned for your safety, given who and what you are. We'll be fine."
He pulls me inside and we go to a small office, where we sit for a moment. Finally Soren enters and strides over to us. He's dressed in something military, an old Roman uniform with blood-red leather breastplate and split leather skirt, greaves and has a Roman crested helmet under his arm.
"Well, here they are, my lovely couple. Priest and Priestess looking all holy and ready for Mass."
I want to shout at him that I'm not his priestess, but Michel squeezes my hand and I avert my eyes.
"Soren," Michel says. "I imagine we will proceed as we discussed."
"Yes." Soren turns to me and takes my chin in his hand so that I have to look in his eyes. "Tonight, Eve, we'll test-drive your channeling powers. I have a congregation filled with believers. I want to perform a little miracle so they can be given proof of my godly powers. After we share blood, the Twelve and I will join our powers and let's just say, a few sparks will fly. My followers need to see me smiting evildoers. This country seems to love seeing them suffer. I'll give them some and you'll help channel their adoration and faith, giving me even more power."
I nod and say nothing, a bit scared now at this ability I have.
"Good. Let's get this show on the road."
He puts on his helmet and Michel and I follow him out of the small office and through a narrow hallway to the side entrance to the altar where the Twelve are already assembled, standing with their wings unfurled. Soren unfurls his own as does Michel and I see Julien standing beside the altar, waiting, looking like a Roman warrior wearing a uniform similar to Soren.
Soren takes his place on a throne behind the altar, with Michel to his right and Julien to his left. I stand between Soren and Michel. Michel takes my hand and leads me to the altar where a crystal goblet sits on a gilded cloth. He takes a sharp knife and cuts my wrist, letting blood drip into it as we did yesterday. Then, Michel takes the vessel and goes to each of the Twelve in turn and repeats this until the goblet is once again filled. We repeat the process. I drink last from the goblet and an overwhelming sense of emotion fills me as I connect with all thirteen.
I barely hear what Michel says as he speaks to the congregation, some words of Latin mixed in with English, something about the blood of the sacrifice uniting all the angels of the Lord but I'm too overcome with the Twelve and Soren to really make much of it. I stand staring out at the congregation and I can feel their awe when they regard Soren and the Twelve with their wings outstretched. In that moment, I understand how awe-inspiring the sight must be to a group of humans in fear from the calamity around them, the red rain, the destruction of technology, and now, the apparent return to earth of angels.
Then I see what Soren is planning – he's amassing the power of his flock's worship, joining it with the powers of the Twelve, and will create a miracle in front of his follower's eyes. There are several hundred in the nave. I can almost feel each and every one of their emotions, their fear and worship entering me, making my heart pound. I glance to my left and right and Soren and the Twelve have their eyes closed as they feel the congregation's worship fill them, making them stronger.
The side door opens and soldiers dressed in uniform with weapons enter, and following them are a dozen men dressed in prison orange. They’re shackled together in chains and shamble inside the nave, their faces dark. They stop in front of the altar and wait, glancing around nervously.
"My children," Soren says, his voice booming as if coming from a loudspeaker. "Before you, see twelve sinners. They're all killers and rapists and child molesters. They have forsaken the commandments for their own pleasure and gain. They deserve holy fire, and that they shall receive."
Then Soren raises his arms, his hands inches apart, and I see something bright between his palms. It's a small spark of light, tiny, perhaps as big as a grain of sand. But soon, it grows larger, now the size of a marble, spinning on its axis, burning bright as an acetylene torch. He spreads his legs as if the spark of energy weighs a great deal, his face a grimace, the muscles of his bare arms flexing with strain.
The spark grows even larger, perhaps the size of a baseball, the light from it so bright I have to squint. I step back, alarmed, but I can't tear my eyes away, and neither can the congregation. They gasp in shock as the spark is now the size of a basketball. The ball of lightning-like energy hums and buzzes, the scent of ozone filling the room.
What is it?
I have no idea what's happening, only that it's like a small nuclear reaction is taking place between Soren's outstretched palms, the white fire-like plasma forming strange shapes as it grows and morphs.
Soren speaks, his voice booming through the nave.
"And the fourth angel poured out his vial upon the sun; and power was given unto him to scorch men with fire. And men were scorched with great heat."
Then he throws the spark, which is now the size of a beach ball, forward and it stops in mid air above the shackled prisoners and then explodes, showering down onto those below, incinerating them in front of us. They writhe and scream, flames burning them almost instantly into charred statues, the scent of roasted human flesh making my stomach turn.
People scream and run, but the doors are closed and they can't leave. I want to cut the connection I have with Soren and the Twelve and between all of us and the congregation, but I can't and now Soren raises his hands and everyone stops, turning to watch him. He's shining like the fire he cast into the congregation, so bright my eyes hurt.
"I am your God," he says, his voice so loud it sounds as if it's coming from everywhere at the same time. "I am the God of War reborn and you will bow down and worship me or die."
He glares down at the remaining congregants, who crouch or stand in mute horror. Finally, they start to bow, falling to their knees, their hands on the floor in front of their faces the way Muslims bow down in prayer.
He rises up over the altar, levitating, as if his power is growing even stronger as the awe of the congregation increases and I'm as helpless as a baby to stop what's happening.
It's too much and I fall to my knees, unable to hold myself up any longer.
* * *
Michel comes up behind me and puts his hands
under my arms, lifting me up so that I stand in front of him. "It's okay, Eve," he whispers in my ear. "Not much longer now."
Then, when everyone is on their knees before us, their heads bowed, Soren descends and his feet touch down to the marble floor. He clenches and unclenches his hands as the glow of light dims and then he turns to the exit. Michel holds me up as we follow him back to the side room. Following behind us, the Twelve. Julien takes up the rear.
"Well, that was fun!" Soren says, rubbing his hands together as if he's just performed some kind of parlor trick instead of controlling some force of nature and killing a dozen people in front of us. "Tell me that wasn't fun, Eve! We smote some bad guys, regaled the congregation with some shock and awe. I think it was a resounding success. Imagine the talk around town tomorrow! I can just see the headlines – 'Mars, the Roman god reborn, reveals power, smites evildoers!'"
I ignore Soren, unable to speak. Michel seats me on a chair against the wall and kneels down before me, holding my hand in his, brushing hair from my face.
"You did really well, Eve," he says, his voice soft.
I stare at him, still reeling from joining once more with the Twelve and Soren, channeling the congregation's awe and worship. I feel as if I've been infused with electricity but at the same time, I might collapse if expected to stand on my own.
"Just imagine what we'll do in Vatican City once I take that as my residence," Soren says, a gloating expression on his face as he paces the room. "Thousands of worshippers all in one place, watching feats of wonder. We're a great team. Word of this will spread fast, people will return to the churches when they start to really believe that the old gods have returned. I may have to heal a few cripples, make the blind see. Bring the dead back to life. That sort of thing."
Julien stands off to the side of the room and watches Michel with me. Our eyes meet and I can tell he's concerned about me and doesn't like what he's seen. I wonder when either he or Michel will tell me of the plan to stop Soren – if there even is a plan.
"Tomorrow, we'll deal with Blackstone," Soren adds. "I intend to get the formula for the plague so our own scientists can control it. I don’t like that Blackstone can start or stop it at will and I have no say in how it's deployed. I've asked the Chairman to add my item on the agenda at their weekly board meeting – it's a ruse of course. I just want them all in one place. Make sure you're in top form," he says to me and wags his eyebrows. "They have to know we mean business. I intend to give a small demonstration, but I'm sure by tomorrow night, they'll have heard about my miracle and powers. I doubt I'll have to do too much convincing."
"As you wish," Michel says quietly. "My Lord," he adds. Even Michel must be submissive to him.
"Good," Soren says, smiling. "Julien, make sure you put extra security in place for when we go. I don’t want some crackpot soldier trying to screw things up."
Julien bows to Soren.
"Well," Soren says to one of the Twelve, the rest of whom are standing or sitting in the room, watching him. "I'm starving. I think I'd like a bit of redhead today. Who do we have on tap?"
They leave the room, filing out in Soren's wake, leaving Michel, Julien and I behind.
"Let's get you home," Michel says, helping me up. We pass Julien on the way out. He nods to me, his expression dark.
"Soon, Eve," Julien says to me. "Soon."
I look back at him as we leave the room and make our way to the exit and out to the vehicle. What does he mean, soon?
Soon this charade will be over and Soren will be dead?
Soon, he and I will be back together?
As Michel and I drive back to Soren's mansion, I wonder what the board meeting will be like.
Chapter 81
"But love's a malady without a cure."
John Dryden
* * *
That night, Michel assists me into our bedroom and helps me undress, but I'm absolutely so exhausted, nothing happens between us. Instead, Michel lies beside me, his arms around me while I fall asleep. I'm so tired I can't even say goodnight.
I sleep without waking for nearly twelve hours. In the morning, Michel's away on business so I eat alone at the table by the window in Michel's bedroom, looking out over the city while I drink my coffee. Michel finally returns in the late afternoon, but he's busy with meetings, and I barely see him. He slips into the room where I'm curled up on the settee with a soft blanket, dozing. I hear him close the door. He comes to my side and bends down to kiss me, tilting my head up with his finger under my chin.
"How are you?" he says, his expression concerned. "I'm sorry to put you through more, but it's important that Blackstone sees you're with Soren and the Twelve. They need a demonstration of your powers. It will make them realize he means business."
"Blackstone's board of directors will agree to meet with him?"
"The Board already agreed because their spies were in the congregation yesterday. I imagine Soren's little show of fiery power was convincing enough that his request to attend was granted."
* * *
Later that night, the vampires and Ancients on Blackstone's board sit in the boardroom of one of Blackstone's office buildings surrounded by images of the military corporation's many training facilities around the world. They're convening in a special session to meet with Soren and the Twelve. While we all wait for Soren to appear, I sit with Michel and Julien in one corner. I overhear them discuss the plague, which is spreading every day, bringing more and more of the world to its knees.
Then the side door opens and in walks my brother, dressed in some kind of black uniform with Kevlar armor.
I frown, shocked to see Dylan here. He comes behind me but Julien stops him, one hand on his chest.
"Hey," Dylan says, holding up his hands as if in surrender. "I just want to say hello to my sister."
Finally, Julien nods. Dylan leans down to whisper in my ear.
"Hello, lovely sister."
"Hello," I say back, but a sense of tension grips my body. Michel leans over to me, a look of concern on his face.
"What did he say?"
"Just hello, lovely sister."
Michel turns to Dylan, who leans against the wall behind the chairman.
For some reason, I reach to my throat where I feel the crucifix Michel gave me dangling beneath my leather collar, and take it in my fingers. It has a sharp pointed end, and without thinking, I press the point into my palm, hard, harder, until I feel a sharp pain and I know I've punctured my skin. I look at my palm where the point is piercing me, and blood wells up as I continue to press down hard.
While I sit and jam the point into my skin, I try to listen to the other board members talking to each other. Dylan is standing, watching me when a scene fills my vision from the other day when I met with Terri and Dylan.
* * *
We're sitting in the courtyard in the shade of a tree. Despite it being October, it feels like summer and the fragrance of the sea fills my nose. Dylan turns to me. "Eve, give me your crucifix."
I remove the crucifix from around my neck and hand it to him. He examines it and then removes a tiny vial from his pocket. Inside the vial I see what looks like a fine black powder. Dylan removes the lid and then dips the tip of the crucifix into the powder. After he seals the vial, he examines the cross.
"Amazing what nanotechnology can do." Dylan turns to me, meeting my eyes. His face is deadly serious. "This is a substance that will enter the bloodstream and replicate, building tiny copies of itself using atoms in your blood. It contains a targeted killer molecule that will seek out specific sequences of DNA in any vampire that it infects. If it locates specific sequences, and only those sequences, it destroys the vampire at the cellular level, taking over the nuclear DNA first, using it to rupture the cell wall. Tissues dissolve. The vampire disintegrates, converted to mostly plasma and protein. Anyone with that very specific sequence of DNA in their cells will be killed."
"You're going to use this against Soren?"
He
nods. "And the Twelve."
"They're infected when they drink my blood."
"Yes, but even more than that. Anyone who's been turned by Soren, and anyone who's been his blood slave or shared his blood, no matter where they are, will be destroyed."
"They don't have to be directly infected?"
"No. We use quantum entanglement to create instantaneous identical state in anyone with that sequence of DNA. It doesn't matter where they are. They could be on the other side of the universe and will still be affected, still die."
"What about me? I've shared blood with Soren twice. I'm Michel's blood slave and he and Julien were turned by Marguerite who…"
"We've tried to alter the molecule so that Michel and Julien will both be protected. We're using the same technology Soren is planning to use to kill off his enemies. We've tried to find specific sequences in Michel and Julien's DNA that will slow the effect, give their bodies time to heal, but we can't be sure if it will work for you because you don't self-heal. If Michel or Julien survive, they may be able to save you with their blood, but they'll have to drain your blood from your body entirely, and then feed you theirs so that their blood can heal you."
"But won't that…"
He inhales. "Make you a vampire?" He nods.
"I don't want to be a vampire," I say, horror filling me. "Dylan, please – don't let them turn me. If it comes to that, let me die. Promise me!"
He shakes his head. "It's not all bad, Eve. You can drink donated blood. You don't have to kill. It would be great to have you on our side as a vampire."
"I thought you wanted to eradicate vampirism like our mother did."
He turns away and exhales slowly. "I used to but how does that poem go? 'For life's a shabby subterfuge and death is deep and dark and huge,'" he says.
"Who wrote that?"
"Updike. He was right, Eve. I'd do almost anything to bring Sarah back. I don't want to lose you, too. Don't give up the chance at immortality."