Morbius

by Brendan Deneen

  They took her to the cemetery, where in the shadowy recesses beneath the ground, the dark ceremony began. Amanda was consumed with fear. Some part of Catherine loathed what was happening to her sister, but that voice in her head was distant, a distress signal that would never, ever be answered. She shut the door on it, with extreme prejudice.

  Amanda’s terror reminded Catherine of something their mother had said. “You will reveal yourself to her when the time is right.” With her eyes locked on her sister’s, Poison-Lark removed her veil.

  “Now, Amanda… now it begins!” she said to her sister, holding an ancient dagger above her head.

  Amanda stared, her eyebrows beetling in confusion. Then she looked at the other cult members who stood around, their faces flush with lust and hatred and excitement.

  “What did you do to my sister?” Amanda screamed at them.

  The fool, Catherine thought. Amanda assumed she had been brainwashed, that she hadn’t made her own conscious choice. She laughed at her sister’s naiveté.

  “Catherine is now but a memory,” she said slowly, decisively. “There is only Poison-Lark.” Realization swept across Amanda’s face, then resignation. That surprised Poison-Lark, who had assumed her sister would beg pitifully until the end. Nevertheless, she continued.

  “Now, as I stand protected within the Double Seal of Solomon,” Catherine recited. Her acolytes murmured with excitement as the ceremony began to unfold. “Now, as the mystic black candles of Hellebore emit their intoxicating scent. Now, we offer the purity of your blood to the demon summoned from the arcane text of Lemegeton.”

  It was cruel, she realized, but necessary. For Arachne to consume its necessary sustenance, the virginal victim needed to be in a state of utter hopelessness, overwhelmed with terror. The sheer emotional energy would build to a crescendo.

  And the torture was far from over.

  At that moment, Morbius attacked. Again. On some level, Catherine continued to be impressed, but the plan had to move forward. As the living vampire fought, outnumbered by his acolyte opponents, Catherine used that moment to unveil yet another betrayal.

  “There’s one last revelation, Amanda,” she said, looking down at her sister, the blade still gripped in her fingers. An acolyte stepped forward and slowly removed his hood. “Look, in your last moments, on the face of ‘sweet, silly Justin’.” Throwing her younger sister’s naïve words back in her face—and it worked. Amanda’s face froze in an expression of pure disbelief as she stared up into her true love’s face.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late,” he said with a malicious smile. Amanda might have protested, but the time had come. Arachne’s foul-smelling web pulled her up to the ceiling. Soon it would feed. Catherine’s plan—her mother’s plan—was working.

  The living vampire, however, had other ideas.

  Enraged, he cut a swath through the cultists who surrounded him and leapt into the air, confronting the massive demon. He put himself in harm’s way, took the attack that was intended for Amanda. Catherine could only watch from the ground, watch as her future was destroyed in front of her. Watch as Arachne died from its ingestion of Morbius’ foully tainted blood.

  In its death throes, the demonic arachnid thrashed wildly, bringing the ceiling down on everyone. Catherine witnessed the death of her acolytes, violently crushed beneath falling rocks and pillars, watched as Justin fled.

  She ran, too, made her way to a secret passage about which only a select few knew. Ascended to the surface, where she watched from a distance as Amanda and Morbius made their way up out of the catacombs. In that moment she vowed vengeance.

  * * *

  CATHERINE MADE her way back to the coven and told her mother what had happened. Myrna was enraged, had every right to be, but her anger was directed at Morbius. She told Catherine that she would take care of the living vampire. They would follow him. She would do whatever was necessary to kill him and sacrifice her youngest daughter for the good of Demon-Fire.

  Justin was killed shortly after the disastrous ceremony. True, Morbius may not have ended him, but he was still responsible. If the living vampire hadn’t interfered, he would still be alive. So much would have been different.

  Her mother would still be alive, too.

  Catherine almost hadn’t attended Justin’s funeral, but decided at the last minute to go. She wouldn’t know anyone there, but it seemed like the right thing to do. She had never loved him, but they had spent many nights together, had been intimate in ways others could never imagine, and he had taught her a lot. It was the least she could do.

  One of the best decisions she ever made.

  After the ceremony, a man approached her. Tall. Bald. Sporting a thick beard. Incredibly handsome. He looked like an older version of Justin but more distinguished. More powerful.

  “Hi,” he’d said. “I’m Justin’s dad. Thaddeus. I wanted to introduce myself, and thank you for coming. How did you know him?”

  She’d lied at first, but he said things during that short conversation in the graveyard that made it clear he was part of Demon-Fire as well. They made plans to meet again. Which they did. Again and again. She told him about what had happened. With Amanda. With Morbius. She saw the rage grow in his eyes every time she mentioned the living vampire.

  She told him also about The Lesser Key of Solomon. Even let him read it. Then she told him about a plan she was formulating, much more ambitious than the rise of Arachne, a plan that would involve her own body, and her soul. He supported her. Encouraged her. Told her she was the true leader of Demon-Fire.

  All the other high priests and priestesses were weak, he claimed. Catherine had a hard time believing that. Even if she wanted to. But everything changed when her mother died.

  It was Morbius. Again.

  Myrna had followed him and Amanda to Maine, had disguised herself, attempted to kill her younger daughter and the vampire, but had failed. Sister Saint lost her own life as a result. The moment Catherine heard the news, that her mother’s head had been split open with an ax, she decided to take Thaddeus’ advice. She would implement her audacious plan. She would use the Lemegeton, transform herself. Invoke the power provided by the Thirteen.

  Become the rightful leader of Demon-Fire.

  And kill Michael Morbius.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “ARE YOU okay, Michael?”

  The voice had a strange, distant sound, as if it were traveling through miles and miles of tunnels to reach him. He recognized it, but he wasn’t sure where from. Emil? Wait, no… Emil was dead. It couldn’t be him. Emil would never talk to anyone ever again.

  Fresh tears streamed down Morbius’ face and he blinked, the room slowly coming into focus. He was lying on his back, staring at a stone ceiling. The cell. He was a prisoner. Still. And he had just fed. On a helpless, unconscious woman. The memory reemerged like a horrible dream. Some part of him was deeply grateful that she had never woken up.

  He still felt like crap.

  Rolling over onto his side, Morbius prepared himself to see the woman’s corpse, but it was gone. Only a large red stain remained on the ground next to him. They must have come in to retrieve the husk while he was lost in his stupor.

  “I’m… fine,” Morbius finally choked out, sitting up. Despite the disgust he felt at what he’d done, his wounds had almost completely healed. There was no question that he felt stronger now. A strength that came at a devastating cost.

  He made his way over to the slab and sat down, staring at his palms. Would he be forced to live like this for weeks? Years?

  “What is this place?” he said quietly, to no one in particular.

  “That’s a fair question,” Jake replied, “and it took me a while to figure it out myself.”

  “The people in the arena,” Morbius said, “the ones who were watching and screaming—who are they?”

  “From what I’ve been able to figure out,” Jake said, sitting by the hole in the wall so the two could talk quietly, “this place is
run by some organization called the Demon-Fire cult, though I got the feeling from your conversation with Brother Thaddeus that you already knew that part.

  “Apparently, they have chapters all over the world,” he continued, “and a bunch in New York City. Including this lovely example. I’ve been listening in as much as I can for as long as I’ve been here. This facility was originally built by the city as part of an additional subway line, back in the day, but it was abandoned when the money ran out. Cult members within the government made sure that any records were conveniently destroyed, and since it was originally dug out decades ago, no one knows it exists anymore.

  “Demon-Fire took it over and built the arena so they could have their games and sacrifices, all at the same time. You know, real family-friendly entertainment. It went on like this for a while, but like any organization, they needed one thing that’s sometimes hard to come by.”

  “What’s that?” Morbius asked after a few seconds.

  “Sorry. I like to add drama to my stories by inserting random silences. My wife hates that about me. Anyway, they needed money. Operating capital. The New York branch was running out of cash. Hey, the city is expensive for everyone—including cultists, apparently. And then someone had a bright idea. You have this arena. You have all kinds of corrupt scientists working for you. Why not put those two things together, like evil peanut butter and satanic chocolate.”

  Jake let out a long sigh, then continued.

  “They have this one guy working for them, I think his name is Franklin something. Anyway, he’s this short round little fellow. Big glasses, wispy hair. He’s some kind of genius, and he figured out a way to mutate the blood in normal humans. To turn them into something else, and then voila, instant monsters. Like yours truly.”

  Morbius thought back to the blood he’d been given by Liz… the blood she got from Fabian. It was all starting to make sense.

  “After that, they started having monster fights, and who among us doesn’t love to see a good fight, especially when one of the two fighters is guaranteed to die? Well, the one-percenters up in the real world got wind of this pretty quickly, and they wanted in. From what I’ve heard, it started small and then got big, fast. Those rich bastards bet millions on each fight. Pocket change to them, maybe, but they take it real seriously.

  “Apparently I was their first guinea pig. Lucky me. So, I’ve been in a lot of fights in that arena, and it just gets louder and louder. Maybe because I keep winning, or maybe because there’s just more and more of them every time. I don’t know.

  “I just wish I could go home.”

  “You said you have a wife,” Morbius said gently.

  Jake laughed, then sighed.

  “Yeah, or I did. I’ve been down here so long, I wonder if she’s just moved on at this point. Written me off as dead, or maybe she thinks I ran off on her. That part hurts the most, I think. The idea that she might assume I got sick of her or whatever.

  “We talked about having kids. It’s something we both wanted, but money was tight, you know? I’m a—I was a teacher. Best job in the world. My wife is a librarian. We’re both book nerds, I guess. We had just bought a house before I was, y’know, before I was taken. We had an extra room we were going to make into the nursery. I guess that room is probably still sitting there, empty.”

  A long moment of silence played out. Somewhere, in the shadowy distance of the stone catacombs, water dripped slowly, rhythmically.

  “How about you, Michael?”

  “Hmm…?” Morbius responded, pulling himself out of the maze of his own thoughts.

  “You got a wife up there?”

  A vision of Martine flashed in his mind. He missed her so much. “No, not a wife… but there is someone. Someone very special to me. Martine. We were in love. It was the greatest time of my life. Everything finally made sense, after a lifetime of nothing making sense, but it was fleeting. I risked everything to hold onto something that wasn’t meant to be mine. Risked everything… and lost everything. When she finally saw what I had become, she was sickened—and who can blame her? I’m a monster.”

  There was another moment of silence, and then Jake chuckled. Morbius felt white-hot rage building in his stomach.

  “You laugh?”

  “Oh shoot, sorry, Michael. I’m not laughing at you. I promise. It’s just, you and I are so alike in some ways. I-I’ve always felt like a bit of a monster myself. I’ve always had anger issues, you know? Ever since I was a little kid. I wouldn’t get my way and I would just lose it. My parents didn’t know what to do with me. They had me talk to shrinks and guidance counselors, and that helped, but that rage was still there. Deep.”

  Morbius thought back to his childhood, to the bullies, and he understood.

  “So when these Demon-Fire guys kidnapped me and handed me over to that Franklin guy,” Jake continued, “on some level I think I felt like I deserved it. And when he injected me, told me he was unleashing something that already existed in my DNA, I kind of knew exactly what he was talking about. He may have turned me into a monster, technically speaking, but the monster was already there.”

  “I’m sorry, Jake.”

  “Yeah, me too. For both of us. What’s that saying? We’re cursed to live in interesting times.”

  “Cursed,” Morbius echoed. “That’s how they got me.”

  “What do you mean?” Jake asked.

  “The mutated blood. That the scientist you mention created. It gave me incredible strength, but it’s also instantly addictive. They used it as bait. Lured me into a trap. I was so stupid.”

  Another long moment of silence stretched out. Finally, Jake broke it.

  “So… where is Martine these days? I can’t help but wonder if she might be more forgiving than you think. Love can forgive a whole hell of a lot.”

  “She’s been taken… by someone named Daemond. A powerful, evil man. I’m helping a friend search for her parents, and she’s helping me search for Martine.”

  Amanda. In the insanity of his time in this miserable cell, he had momentarily forgotten about her. He wondered again if Demon-Fire had kidnapped her, too. Again.

  “Helping a friend? That doesn’t sound like something a monster does, Michael.”

  “You are very kind, Jake, but I have done things since my transformation that haunt my nightmares. Hurt people. Battled good men and women. Taken the lives of the innocent. On second thought, perhaps it’s for the best if I just rot away down here in the darkness, like the vermin I really am.”

  “Did you ever have any teachers you really liked, Michael?” Jake asked. “When you were a kid?”

  The question surprised Morbius. He had been thinking about his favorite teacher just the other night. His mind returned to the time when he was eight. It had been a hard year for many reasons, but his teacher had made all the difference.

  Mrs. Morgenthaler.

  She had recognized something special in young Michael, had encouraged his love of math and science, had told him that the bullies would be weak when they were old, and that age would give Michael strength. Unfortunately, their special friendship had died the day Michael accidentally coughed blood all over her.

  Still, she had been right about the bullies, though perhaps not in the way she had thought.

  “Yes,” Morbius murmured, thinking of his teacher’s kind face. Of her cold hands. “Cold hands, warm heart,” she had said. Her mantra.

  “Well, I teach fourth graders, Michael. After a few years of doing that, you start to have a sense right away about which kids are inherently good and which have a bit too much darkness in their souls. I’m not saying any child is beyond being helped, but there are certain aspects of everyone’s personality that I think are fundamental to who they are. I’m pretty damn good at reading people. Not sure if it’s a gift or something I’ve developed from years of teaching, or both.

  “And let me tell you something, Michael…”

  Another moment of silence stretched out. Michael’
s curiosity was piqued, though he never would have admitted it. He sat still, waiting. Then, finally, Jake finished his thought.

  “You may have done some horrible things, and I question how much of those things are truly your fault, but I can tell you one thing. Based on what I’ve seen of you and what you told me, you are not a monster.”

  Morbius smiled, his lips curling past his sharp fangs. Even though he didn’t genuinely believe his new friend, he appreciated the words.

  “Thank you, Jake.”

  There was a soft noise coming from the cell next door, and Morbius listened carefully. At first, he couldn’t make out what the sound was. And then, slowly, it came to him.

  Jake was crying.

  Morbius’ smile faded. He imagined Jake’s wife, up on the surface, crying as well. Missing her husband, living in an empty house with an empty extra room that was supposed to become a nursery.

  “And neither am I,” Jake whispered.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AMANDA AWOKE screaming.

  She sat up and looked around, blinking her eyes furiously. She was in a small room with concrete walls and a single door, and nothing else. She was lying on a metal table, similar to the ones used in morgues. The door had a window but it was frosted, though dull light pushed against the glass.

  There wasn’t a single sound to be heard.

  Amanda sat up, and her brain swam. She closed her eyes and placed her face in her palms, the darkness soothing but discomfiting at the same time. She tried to work her way through where she was, how she had gotten here. The memories came rushing back.

  The bookstore.

  The apartment. Liz.

  Catherine.

  Amanda pulled her face out of her hands and looked around the room again, her breath coming in fast, uneven gasps. Her sister was alive, and she had kidnapped Amanda. Again.