by Alten-Steve
A twinge of panic. The Succubus is not a whore. The Succubus is powerful. The Succubus controls—
‘Take off your clothes, whore.’
Lilith looks up at Quenton, pulling him in with her smile. ‘Okay. You want a private whore, you got it. But first, let’s make sure you’re up to the task.’ She reaches into her pocket and removes the three pills. ‘Chew these up real good. These pills will help you last all night long.’
He does as told, chewing and swallowing the tablets. ‘Get undressed, ’ho. You owe me for the last seven years.’
Longboat Key, Florida 7:22 p.m.
Go on, Father, finish your story. Tell me what happened after your shuttles reached the domed city on the alien world.
A section of the dome receded, allowing us to enter, just as it had for our drone scout. Once inside, an invisible force field, perhaps a tractor beam, steadied our three pitching vessels, guiding them to a landing pad located atop one of the twelve-thousand-foot-high dwellings.
We filed out of our vessels and breathed the alien air. We were so relieved to be saved that we literally stood upon the roof of that tower and cheered. We joined hands and thanked God in prayer. And then we realized we were stuck.
Stuck?
Twelve thousand feet above ground level. The only access point we could find to enter the interior of the dome-scraper was an octagonal door, which appeared to be composed of an incredibly thin yet impenetrable nanocarbon fiber. There was no handle or keypad, no clues for entry.
The sun set, and we were still marooned on the roof. Nightfall arrived, and for the first time, we gazed upon that alien sky, it was simply breathtaking to behold. The planet’s large moon shone bright yellow, the smaller potato-shaped satellite appearing as a fast-moving violet speck. In the distance was a nebula and a bright blue star.
We spent two long days atop that dwelling, waiting impatiently for our engineers to fashion devices to rappel us down the face of the tower. A harrowing descent, and we were finally on the ground.
Neanderthal man had arrived in New Manhattan.
The urban landscape integrated tropical foliage and artificial waterways into its design. The humidity was heavy at ground level, the air cool. Close by was a stream, and I remember feeling pleased that our scientists were already busy testing its silvery-tinged waters.
To our dismay, the liquid contained microscopic traces of some exotic elements. Was the water toxic? We couldn’t be sure, but tests using our few surviving lab mice showed it as potable … at least in the short term.
Water is life. Our shuttles had two more months of food but only a few days’ supply of water. If this alien source was even semicompatible with our bodies, then what choice did we have but to drink it?
So now we had air and water, fertile soil to plant our crops, and a dome above our heads that shielded us from the deadly ultraviolet rays of the alien sun. But we still could not access any of the dwellings.
Wild rumors spread that an alien race was harbored inside, waiting to slaughter us as we slept. Others, like me, believed the city had been abandoned long ago and that we only lacked the necessary knowledge to access the habitat.
And so, at the foot of these mammoth, futuristic structures, we cut down trees and fashioned log cabins. Planted our crops and set up our science labs. Erected schools and hospitals, a courthouse and a house of worship. There was a peace and sense of well-being on our new home world that never existed on the old. We were one people—a tribe of survivors. There would be no haves and have-nots. Equality ruled the day.
At least, for the moment.
We voted, naming our growing community New Eden. In honor of our leader, Devlin Mabus, his mother was given the privilege of choosing a name for our planet. To our surprise, she selected an old Mayan name, a name derived from the Creation Myth recorded in the Popol Vuh.
Xibalba.
Then Xibalba is really a planet, not an Underworld? And how am I to get there? And this woman who named it, who was she? And why would she choose such an evil name for a planet?
She was a widow, her husband, billionaire Lucien Mabus, having died years earlier. She was in her early fifties but looked far younger, still a ravishing beauty. She wore bizarre violet contact lenses, had cocoa-skin and long, flowing ebony hair. Apparently, Lilith’s maternal ancestors hailed from Mesoamerica and—
Lilith! You say her name was Lilith?
Lilith Eve Mabus.
She’s the one—the one I’ve been communicating with all these years within the nexus.
You’re girlfriend’s Hunahpu?
Yes. Father? Father, are you still there?
Jacob, it is Lilith Mabus who will one day become the Abomination.
No … no, that’s impossible! Lilith can’t be the Abomination, she … she wasn’t born on the same day as us, she showed me her birth certificate! Dad, it’s not her!
‘It’s her, Jacob. She’s deceived you, and through you, she now knows about me. It’s been your communication with Lilith in your present that forewarned her. It’s the reason the Abomination and her demon seed were waiting for me when I finally arrived on Xibalba as Michael Gabriel.
… all my fault. I have to do something. I have to stop her now.
Jacob, wait! Stifling Lilith’s actions in your time could adversely affect man’s future. Remember, it’s the wormhole that gives us a chance to change things, to save humanity. It was Lucien Mabus who pioneered space tourism, providing the ships that made the journey to Mars possible. Destroy Lilith in your time period and there may not be a Mars option, which means the second holocaust will wipe out all of mankind. The time loop must be preserved, then broken at the correct interval, in my time, not in yours.
Then what am I supposed to do?
I don’t know, but you and your brother must stay away from Lilith at all costs.
Belle Glade, Florida 7:40 p.m.
Quenton Morehead lies naked in bed, watching the enchantress remove a bottle of aromatic oil from the pocket of her robe, along with several lengths of rope. His eyes widen as she slips out of her clothes, pouring the oil over her naked breasts.
‘Yes, whore, I like that.’
‘You’ll enjoy this even more.’ Using the lengths of rope, she secures his ankles and wrists to the oak bedposts. ‘Whores like a captive audience.’
She turns off the lights, then slowly snakes her way up the old man’s frame.
Quenton quivers with delight, moaning with pleasure as she slides her fingers down his distended belly to his groin. She licks his neck, teasing his knotty Adam’s apple with her tongue as she grinds her moist pubic region into his pelvis. ‘You’re right, you know,’ she coos. ‘I really owe you so much. Now lie back and close your eyes.’
‘But I want to see you.’
‘It’s better in the dark. Remember back when I was a child and you’d come to me in the darkness. Now I’m coming to you. Close your eyes.’
The old man obeys, a serene smile on his face—
—as Lilith removes the razor blade from behind her ear, placing it between her teeth.
The teenager slides down his frail body, fondling his inner thigh, pinching, tickling him as she rubs her lips across his dark skin … gently slicing open his flesh.
Returning to his neck, she teases open his carotid artery, swirling the warm pulsating liquid down his hairy chest as her free hand strokes his erect organ.
Pleasure and pain. With every groan, more blood. With each squeeze, a new cut.
By the time her mouth works its way to his groin, the Reverend’s body has become a heaving patchwork of crimson.
Quenton climaxes, then drifts off to sleep, the drugs taking effect, the old man never realizing the hot beads of moisture drenching the bedsheets are his life.
Longboat Key, Florida 11:08 p.m.
The sand is cold, the driving wind coming off the Gulf penetrating Dominique’s sweater. She pulls her collar up over her ears. ‘Enough games, Jacob. Yes or no, do you know
who murdered your Aunt Evelyn?’
‘Her name is Lilith. We’ve been communicating since we were young children.’
Dominique covers her mouth in shock. ‘Communicating how?’
‘Through a higher plane of quantum existence we call the nexus.’
‘She’s Hunahpu?’
‘Yes. And yes, she’s the Abomination, at least she may be someday.’
Dominique feels the blood drain from her face. ‘All these years … all my warnings, all Evelyn’s warnings, and you’ve been communicating with the very person who tortures your father, who might destroy us all. How could you, of all people, be so blind?’
‘Love is blind.’
‘Love? You love this … this thing?’
‘She’s not a thing, Mother, she’s a human being born in a hurricane. She comes from a broken home, she’s been abused physically and sexually. She needed my help, and I was there. She’s a child of God as much as you or I.’
‘And now she’s a dangerous child. She murdered Evelyn.’
‘She’s angry at me. She’s become psychotic.’
‘I’d say she passed psychotic. Now what are we supposed to do?’
He paces along a dune, his mind racing. ‘Lilith knows where we live and who we are. We can run now, but she’s growing stronger every day. Eventually she’ll have no trouble tracking me down using her Hunahpu abilities. She also has at least one ally,—who’s—also Hunahpu.’
‘We have allies, too. We’ll send Salt and Pepper after her.’
‘We can’t do that. Lilith’s presence in the near future is entwined around mankind’s survival. If we derail her now, we’ll upset an entire chain of events. The key is to avoid her until Manny and I leave for Xibalba.’
‘You know where Xibalba is?’
He points to the heavens. ‘Somewhere out there. According to the Mayan prophecy, Manny and I won’t travel to Xibalba until our twentieth year. Avoiding Lilith for six years will be next to impossible, unless …’ His eyes widen as another option takes shape within in his mind.
Belle Glade, Florida November 5, 2027 7:25 p.m.
Lilith Eve Robinson sits at the kitchen table weeping, her tears aided by the irritation of the soap.
Detective Teak Colson hands her a tissue. ‘I know you’re upset, but I need to ask you a few more questions. You say you came home around eleven?’
‘Yes, sir. I was visiting my uncle at his hotel. My grandfather was lying on his bed when I got here.’
‘Did you ever see your grandfather use drugs?’
‘He … he pops these pills. Said it was for his arthritis.’
‘According to the coroner, those pills were Oxycontin. Coroner found about six hundred milligrams of the stuff in him, and it was all chewed up. Oxycontin is a time-released drug, it was made to swallow whole. Chew it up and you release toxic amounts of the drug.’
‘Oh my God… . He should have known that, right?’
‘I think he did. I think your grandfather committed suicide.’
‘No … he was murdered. Look at those wounds? How do you explain the blood loss?’
‘Self-inflicted. With all that painkiller in him, he probably never felt a thing. Did you know he changed his Will?’
‘I didn’t even know he had a Will.’
‘Changed it yesterday. Fits the suicide pattern. This whole thing was premeditated. His lawyer will be speaking with you later this afternoon.’ Colson checks his notes. ‘Now this uncle of yours—Don Rafelo. I’m going to need his statement.’
‘Of course.’
Colson looks over her shoulder, his expression darkening. ‘Oh, hell—’ He hurries into the living room to the television.
The scene is live, broadcast from a news chopper hovering over the Gandy Bridge in Tampa. Rescue boats are circling, divers are in the water.
Colson turns up the sound.
‘… the former president’s limousine was struck as it approached the construction area of the bridge. The vehicle crashed through the temporary barricade and into the bay.’
The scene zooms in on a Coast Guard rescue boat.
‘Jennie, Brian Bahder here. We’ve just received word that former president Ennis Chaney and the driver of the vehicle have been rescued. Both men are now aboard the Coast Guard rescue boat in stable condition.’
‘Brian, what about the missing Gabriel twin?’
Lilith kneels by the screen, her heart racing. Please not Jacob …
‘Divers are still searching, but I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good. Eyewitnesses report the limo sank at least ten minutes ago.’
‘For those of you just joining us, you’re looking at a live telecast over the Gandy Bridge where a limousine transporting former president Ennis Chaney and one of his godsons was struck by a hit-and-run driver as it was heading east into Tampa. Chaney and his driver have been rescued, but the unidentified Gabriel twin is still missing.’
‘Jennie, from what we understand, Tampa Bay Buccaneers owners Dan and Linda Broersma, had invited Chaney and his godson to watch this afternoon’s football game—’
‘Stand by, Jennie, it looks like divers have surfaced.’
The camera angle changes, zooming in on the stern of the Coast Guard rescue boat where a body is being lifted out of the water.
Lilith holds her breath as the carcass, supported by a team of divers, breaks the surface.
It is the dark-haired twin, Immanuel.
20
For one more terrible moment in man’s history, the world seemed to stop spinning.
Over the years, stories about the Gabriel twins had grown to almost legendary proportions. News of Immanuel’s demise stunned the public as much as the deaths of John Lennon, Princess Diana, or John F. Kennedy, Jr.. But it was in Mesoamerica where the Mayan Indians had worshiped the teens as living deities that the news was hardest to swallow.
Riots broke out in Central America. Zealots took nosedives off pyramids. Schools and businesses closed. People wept openly in the streets. Back in the States, news journalists stormed the gates of the Gabriel compound by the hundreds, forcing the military to shut down access bridges leading into Longboat Key.
What the public wanted was information, what the media insisted upon was proof. They demanded to examine the body, which had been transported back to the compound to be readied for burial.
In her grief, Dominique finally relented, knowing there would be no peace without verification. A team of physicians were allowed to enter the Gabriel compound, along with a CNN film crew and two witnesses drawn from a lottery.
The morbid event was telecast around the world.
After thirty minutes, a heavily sedated Dominique could handle no more. Everyone but Ennis Chaney and the immediate family were banned from the compound.
The former president spoke to the world later that evening, providing sparse details about the hit-and-run, saying only that Immanuel’s body would be cremated. A public mass and international day of mourning was scheduled for Monday in Washington, DC.
Belle Glade, Florida November 5, 2027
The unmarked police car enters the lot of the Belle Glade Breakers Motel and parks. Lilith gets out of the passenger side and knocks on the door of Room 113. ‘Open up, Uncle Don, it’s me—Lilith.’
Detective Colson joins her at the door. ‘Do you have a key?’
‘Yes.’ She slips the magnetic key in the lock and opens the door.
The room is empty.
‘So? Where is he?’
‘I … I don’t know. He was supposed to meet me here this evening.’
‘Anyone at the front desk ever meet this uncle of yours?’
‘No. I paid for the room. His English isn’t too good.’
Colson searches the chest of drawers. Looks under the bed. Checks the bathroom. Finds nothing.
‘Looks like he took off on you. What was his relationship with your grandfather?’
‘I … I don’t know? But if you’re thinking …
Detective, I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Please don’t jump to any conclusions.’
‘Here’s my card. I want you to wait here and call me the moment he comes back. Meanwhile, I’m going to contact someone from Family Services. If your uncle doesn’t show up by tonight, you’ll go with them.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Colson leaves. Lilith locks the door behind him.
‘Bastard.’
She spins around, shocked to find Don Rafelo lying spread-eagle on the bed.
‘Don’t worry, I put the evil eye on him.’
‘Where were you? How did you get …’ The sudden realization shocks her, dropping her to her knees. ‘No … you’re … you’re not real, are you?’
His smile reveals diseased gums. ‘Of course I’m real. Thoughts are real, aren’t they?’
‘But—’
‘The power of the Succubus is real.’
‘But you’re just in my mind. You’re not really here. Not in the physical sense.’
He sits up and leans in close, and she can smell his foul old man’s breath. ‘Real is what the mind can conceive and believe. Thoughts are things. Your thought energy is as real as mine.’
Lilith swoons. ‘Those boys you killed—’
‘You mean, the ones you killed. And the old woman.’
‘And Quenton?’
‘Of course. I instructed you, gave you confidence, but it was you who did the deed. And now there’s more to be done, before we travel to Mexico.’
‘Jacob?’
Don Rafelo nods. ‘He’ll be in Washington for the memorial service. Security will be tight, but he’ll be out in the open, where we can reach him through the nexus.’
‘He doesn’t want to see me anymore.’
‘Jacob’s value is in his seed. Your union will be the first of two nearly pure Hunahpu. Your child, Lilith, shall be a god.’
West Potomac Park, Washington, DC November 7, 2027