by J. L. McCoy
“Where are we going?” I asked as I looked around at the empty desert surrounding us. I glanced behind me to see the lean-to gone and when I turned back around, I gasped at the sight before me.
“Welcome to Su’u,” Amun said as he came to a stop in front of a towering mud brick wall. “The ancient city of Ur will later be built upon its ashes.”
“Where are we?” I asked in awe as the wall dematerialized and I saw the city in full.
There were tents, lean-tos, reed shacks and mud brick buildings all crammed into a relatively small area of twenty five acres. Small bonfires and torches lit the city reasonably well.
“We are in Mesopotamia,” he explained as we strolled toward the city center, “in your modern day country of Iraq. Su’u is nestled between what will be known in the future as Babylonia and the Persian sea.”
As we walked, I took in the people of Su’u. Men were spilling out into the streets, drunk on wine and rage. Fights were common and whores abundant. I watched in shock as men took women out in the open, having no shame or concern for others. The breeze picked up and with it came the horrible smell of human waste, body odors, and old, rotten food.
“This place is appalling,” I cringed, covering my nose with the side of my headscarf.
“It is reality,” Amun said as we came to a stop in front of a large, three-story tall, rough pyramid shaped building. “And this is the palace of Sarrum Allik, ruler of Su’u and all the land within a five day walk.”
“Why have you brought me here?” I asked with a shake of my head, confused.
Without a word, Amun grabbed my hand and lead me up the stone steps of the palace. As we walked, the scenery morphed and we were now standing inside a great room. The room was brightly lit using various torches that had been mounted to the walls. The floors and ceiling were covered in richly painted murals of men, animals, and wars. Women danced topless in sheepskin skirts as men sat around them smoking from odd pipes. Colorful pillows, throws and fur rugs lined a raised portion of the floor. Sitting upon them was a rough looking man being fed dates by another topless woman. He had long black hair, rough, weathered olive skin, and a scruffy beard.
“That is Sarrum Allik,” Amun said disdainfully as he nodded to the man I was looking at. “King Allik of Su’u.”
I heard him laughing with the men and speaking to them in a foreign language. I watched the confusing exchange with a furrowed brow.
“What are they saying?” I asked Amun.
Suddenly, their words became English and I understood them right away.
“If you fornicate like you fight, I feel sorry for your woman,” the king laughed as he accepted a date from the woman beside to him.
“I fight fiercely, my king,” the man drunkenly stumbled to his feet. “And my lovemaking skills are unparalleled.”
“That’s not what your wife told me last night as I was taking her from behind in your bed,” one of his friends bellowed, drawing a laugh from the other men.
“I will eat your heart!” the drunken man yelled as lunged for the other man.
I watched them scuffle on the floor as the group of men cheered and egged them on. The women took everything in stride, never halting their dance.
A minute later, six men entered the room followed by an Asian looking man whose wrists were bound in front of him.
“Silence!” the king yelled and the men immediately stopped their fighting, sitting back down and picking up their pipes.
“My king,” one of the new men bowed. “We have done as you’ve asked. My men scoured the sand for weeks, testing claims of greatness but only finding one man fitting of your request. We have brought you the sorcerer Kishpu. He is the finest and most powerful sorcerer in the land. His treatments and medicine are well known to his people.”
The king stood and walked down the few steps to stand in front of Kishpu. “How do you know his claims are true?” he demanded to his men.
“We saw him bring a bird back to life after dipping its body in medicine,” one of the men replied. “He healed my leprosy in two days. All I had to do was chew the leaves he gave me.”
“Outstanding,” the king clapped happily. He looked back down at the feeble man in front of him and glowered. “Who is your king?”
“Dimmukdu rules my land, master,” the man stumbled, bowing his head.
“Please me and I will become your king,” Allik addressed the man. “You will have riches and women the likes as you have never seen. Fail me and you will die.”
The sorcerer bowed his head to the king. “Yes, my king.”
“Do you know why these men have brought you here?” the king asked as he began to undo the man’s wrist bindings.
“N-no, master.”
The king dropped the rope to the floor and put his arm around the sorcerer like he was an old friend. “I grow old,” he sighed. “My back hurts and my sight is dimming. I am 183 seasons old and I fear I will not live much longer. I am not the strapping man I used to be. My hands are weak and I wish to be strong again. I wish to live forever.”
The sorcerer looked up at the king with wide eyes. “Are you asking me to reverse your age?”
“Yes,” the king smiled. “And, I want to live forever. I want to watch the seasons come and go and never grow old. I want to rule my kingdom eternally.”
“What you are asking is impossible, master,” the sorcerer shook his head.
“You will find a way,” the king threatened, “or you will die.”
“Is he serious?” I asked, turning to Amun.
“Yes,” he said simply.
I watched the scene morph again. Two guards were dragging a prisoner into the king’s great room. They dumped him at the bottom of the king’s steps and took a step back.
“Stand!” the king commanded and the prisoner weakly scrambled to his knees and then feet. When he brushed the long, unkempt hair from his face, I gasped as I recognized a much younger Amun.
“That’s you,” I whispered as I covered my mouth in surprise.
“Yes, Damu,” he explained gently. “The king imprisoned me for not paying him enough sheepskin, wool, and meat when his men came to collect taxes. I had been locked up for two full seasons before they brought me before the king on this night.”
I turned my attention back to the young Amun and king Allik.
“Prisoner, I will grant you release in exchange for your participation,” the king said.
“What will you have me do?” the young Amun asked fearfully, an edge of readiness and relief in his voice.
“You must simply do as my friend Kishpu asks.”
Kishpu appeared and approached the king and his guards. “I-I believe the potion is ready, my king,” he stammered nervously. “I have been working on it for two full seasons and I believe I have found the right combination of materials.”
“You had better hope so,” the king growled as he turned and beckoned one of the young guards over.
I watched in horror as the sorcerer Kishpu nodded to one of the other guards and he took out a sharp rock knife and jammed it into the side of the young guard’s throat. Kishpu immediately held a bowl under the rapid blood flow, catching many cupful’s of the warm liquid as the guard tried to fight back.
The young guard soon lost consciousness as Kishpu took the bowl over to a table and added more liquid to it. Finally pleased with what he saw in the bowl, Kishpu brought it over to the young Amun and demanded that he drink.
“You want me to drink the blood of a dead man?” the young Amun asked in horror. “What sorcery is this?”
“Drink or die,” the king said simply. “It matters not to me. I have many other prisoners I can make the same offer of freedom to.”
I could see indecision in the young Amun’s eyes and then finally acceptance. He knew that the only way he would ever see his family again was to do what the king asked.
“Don’t drink it,” I whispered under my breath as the bowl was brought to his mouth. The young Am
un bravely chugged the concoction and fought to keep it down.
When it seemed as though he would keep it within him, he looked over at the king with a small smile. “I was victorious, my king. I have done as you’ve asked and would like my pardon.”
The king frowned and looked over at the sorcerer. “It may take a little time, my king,” Kishpu quickly explained.
King Allik turned back to the young Amun and asked him how he felt.
“I feel fine, great one,” he explained before burping. “It settles roughly within me, but I will be able to hold it down.”
The king’s frown deepened as he looked over at the dead guard and then back to Kishpu. “Was his blood not of good enough stock? Were your herbs not strong enough? Nothing is happening!”
Suddenly, the young Amun doubled over in pain, a tortured moan bursting from his lips. “Something is not right,” he groaned.
The king’s eyes grew wide with excitement as he watched Amun fall and writhe on the painted palace floor. A harmony of many voices spilled out of Amun’s throat, all of them tortured screams. It sounded entirely demonic and sent cold chills down my spine. The king took a few steps back as the smile left his face. He seemed genuinely afraid for the first time.
The young Amun suddenly became still and no one moved. “Check to see if he lives,” the king ordered Kishpu.
Kishpu fearfully walked over and put his ear to Amun’s chest. I watched as he closed his eyes in disappointment and acceptance. I could tell immediately that the young Amun was dead.
“We can try again, my king,” Kishpu said quickly as he stood up and stepped back from the king. “I will work day and night to make the potion right. You will have eternal life, master.”
“You fool!” the king screamed as he stalked toward a terrified Kishpu. “You made poison! You were planning to kill me! I’d be dead now if I had not used a slave in my stead.”
“N-No sir!” Kishpu cried, wringing his hands and shrinking back from the king. “I would never kill you, great king. I am your humble and loyal servant.”
“Lies!” King Allik screamed as he drew his stone knife and pulled his arm back to stab him.
A groan came from the floor and I looked over in shock at the young Amun.
“He lives!” Kishpu cried as the king lowered his knife. Kishpu walked over to Amun and kneeled down again to place his ear over his heart. “His soul lives, my king!” he said excitedly. “He did not die as I thought!”
Suddenly, there was a wet, plopping and tearing sound as the young Amun put his fist through Kishpu’s chest. I screamed out as I stared at the heart in Amun’s hand. The young Amun threw Kishpu’s body off of him, flashed to a standing position, and haphazardly tossed Kishpu’s heart to the floor.
The king, completely in shock, started to take steps backward as his guards descended on Amun. Amun dispatched them quickly, never taking his pitch black, murderous eyes from the retreating king.
My heart pounded fearfully in my chest as I watched the carnage take place. Finally, all were dead except the king and Amun. Amun stalked toward the king, his face contorted with extreme rage. King Allik turned and ran to the back of the great room, but by the time he reached the doorway, the young Amun was already standing there.
Without a sound, the young Amun grabbed the king and sunk his fangs deep into his neck, drinking his prey completely.
The scenery morphed once again and we were back standing in the desert under a vast blanket of stars.
“Do not be afraid, Damu,” Amun whispered to me as I protectively clutched my hands to my chest. “I feel your fear. I will never lay a hand on you again, as I previously promised. You are precious to me; I would never hurt you.”
“W-Why are you doing this to me?” I asked carefully. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why do you insist on haunting my dreams?”
Amun sighed as he closed his eyes. When he opened them back up, he acted as if I had never spoken to him. “I stalked the night for many, many seasons after the king and his sorcerer changed me; out of my mind with intense rage and insanity,” he explained. “I was a monster; killing and eating whoever came across my path. I did not think of my family during this time, I only thought of the blood I was driven to consume.”
He sighed and looked at the sand at his feet, squishing his toes deeply into it, relishing the feel. “I completely destroyed the city of Su’u. In my rage, I killed every man, woman, and child. I burned down every home, scattered every mud brick foundation and wall until there was nothing but sand left.”
“So, you never went back to your family?” I asked in a whisper.
“No, Nisiqtu. By the time I regained some sense of sanity, my child, wife, and mother were long dead. I am just thankful that they escaped my murderous rampage.”
“So what I just witnessed was the birth of the first vampire?” I asked after a few moments of thoughtful silence.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“Why did you feel I needed to see that?” I asked, anger and confusion starting to build. I hated Amun and now he was showing me things that made me feel sorry for him, feel genuine emotions of concern for him. I felt like I was being manipulated and I hated it. “Nothing you say, show, or do to me will ever make me not hate you. I’ll hate you forever.”
“Forever is a long time, Nisiqtu,” he said gently as he put his hand on my back.
“But it’s true!” I said, jerking away from him.
“Wait until you have lived forever and then tell me you hate me,” he said with pursed lips. “Feelings change with time, especially when you have nothing but.”
“I don’t plan on living forever,” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’ll never be a vampire like you. I’d rather die.”
“You do not know what you say,” Amun said, turning his back to me. “Sometimes, we do not get a choice, Skye.”
“I have a choice!” I yelled as I put my hand on his shoulder and turned him around to face me. “Archer and his family would never turn me without my permission!”
Amun’s eyes filled with rage at the mention of Archer’s name. Without another word, he vanished and I was left alone standing in the vast desert sand.
Chapter Thirteen
I felt the covers being removed from my face and I opened my eyes in shock. Bright sunlight streamed through my room, momentarily blinding me.
“What the hell?” I groaned as I immediately shielded my eyes with my hands.
I felt my body being lifted up and I tried in vain to get out of the person’s hold. “Put me down!” I yelled hoarsely as I feebly kicked my legs.
Soon, my eyes adjusted and I saw that Trey was the person carrying me. “Trey, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Put me down this instant!”
He ignored me as I was taken out into the hall, through Archer’s door, and into Archer’s master bathroom. Suddenly, I was unceremoniously dropped into a warm bubble bath; the soapy water sloshing over the side and onto the tile floor.
I sputtered as I sat up out of the water, my bed clothes and hair completely soaked. “What the HELL is WRONG WITH YOU?!?!”
“Shut up,” Aoife growled at me and I turned to see her standing by the bathroom mirror, her slender arms folded under her impressive chest. “I’m not going to sit here and let you sulk anymore. You’ve been in bed for five days and that’s four days too long. This is getting ridiculous.”
I looked over at Trey with wide, angry eyes, but he just looked down at me with pursed lips. “Don’t look at me for help, Skye Morrison. It was my idea.”
“Why the hell can’t y’all just leave me alone?” I asked heatedly.
“Because we care about you and we’re not going to sit here and allow you to spiral further into your depression.”
“You don’t know shit about what I’m going through, Trey!” I yelled as I roughly pushed a tower of bubbles out of my face.
“You’re right, I don’t,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he threw me a
bath sponge. “I can only FEEL every emotion you are having. Now, are you going to wash yourself or do I have to do it for you?”
“Get out!” I screamed at him as I took off my shirt. Trey immediately obeyed and I looked over at Aoife. “You too!”
“Not a chance,” she said plainly as she came to sit on the ledge of the massive garden tub. “Someone has to make sure you bathe, Skye. You reek.”
I knew arguing would be a losing battle, so I huffed as I took off the rest of my wet clothes and threw them over the side of the tub. Aoife grabbed the sponge, dipped it into the water, and then added a large dollop of liquid soap to the top before handing it to me.
I accepted the sponge with a scowl and began lathering my arms and chest. To my immense surprise, Aoife picked up the shampoo bottle and began washing my hair. No one had washed my hair since my mother had when I was a child. It had been my favorite part of bath time when I was little. My mother’s fingers were always gentle and loving and I felt the tension begin to leave my body as Aoife brought back those fond memories with every touch.
She silently rinsed my hair as I finished washing my body and then she began massaging conditioner into the length while I shaved my legs.
When my bath was done, she held out a towel for me and I wrapped up in its warmth before she sat me down and began the tedious task of brushing out my massive tangles. Five days in bed had turned my waist length hair into a huge rat’s nest. I sighed as I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of every brush stroke. The action was so simple, but it felt good and was intensely calming. A deep sense of peace descended upon me and for the first time in many days, I felt like everything might just be okay.
Aoife began to French braid my hair and when she reached the end, she tied it off before wrapping the long tail up into a tight bun at the nape of my neck.
“There,” she said, gently squeezing my shoulders with her hands, “you almost look presentable. Come. Let’s get you dressed.”
I stood and silently followed her into Archer’s bedroom. Draped across his bed sat a pair of my workout clothes and I looked up at her in surprise.