Harvester

by Erik Henry Vick

  “If it isn’t already too late,” murmured Mike.

  3

  “No,” Toby breathed. It took every bit of his willpower, every bit of his self-control to say the word. Phantom hands slid across the planes of his body, ghostly fingers danced across his skin, ethereal tongues stroked and licked and caressed.

  His nerves twitched and squirmed as if on fire, and he shivered with pleasure. “No.” The word was barely audible, even to him.

  The haunting music danced in the darkness around them, the volume growing, melody and countermelody racing toward a crescendo, the staccato rhythm increasing in tempo. Through it all, his flesh shivered, longing for her embrace.

  “No.” He wasn’t even sure if he had spoken the word aloud, and Toby wasn’t sure if he could repeat it if he had. He squeezed his eyes shut, teetering on the edge of giving in. “You said you wanted to tell me something.”

  The sensation of multiple tongues gliding over his flesh departed, leaving only one that painted saliva circles over his carotid artery. The multitudes of cool fingers disappeared, leaving only palms on his skin, and they too decreased in number until only two remained.

  With a deep sigh, Lily’s tongue came away from his neck, one hand left the small of his back, and the other slid down to his wrist, pulling him over to the cushions. “Fine,” she breathed. “But I’ve never seen a man so adamant about rejecting sex. If it weren’t for what you’d already done, I might suppose you to be homosexual.” Her grip on his wrist loosened, and as she withdrew her hand, her fingertips trailed fire across his skin. “If that’s the problem, I can as easily be a man.”

  Toby shook his head, trying to clear the daze from his brain. “No, don’t change anything.”

  “Aw, Tobycakes, you say the sweetest things.” Fabric rustled on his left. “Come on. Sit down, and we will talk.”

  His eyes seemed stuck, still blind in the shade of the pavilion, but he crawled toward her voice, and when he felt her hand on his shoulder, he sat. “Okay.”

  “I first came here in the reign of Sargon. I was summoned by a twitchy little priest named Utukku. He was as arrogant as he was bold. He wanted what every man wants and more. His avarice was legendary.”

  “I’m not sure‍—‍”

  “Hush, now, Tobes. Let me tell it in my own way.” She hesitated a moment, as if waiting for him to object, then went on. “His timing was good—there was upheaval back home, and I was tired of it. He wanted magic, a creature of magic that would bolster his power. Most of the seraph heard his entreaties‍—‍”

  “Is that the name of your kind?”

  “‍—‍and most shunned his pleas. Lilu was amused by the audacity of ‘the little runt,’ as he called him. I desired distraction, so I played along with the fool.

  “But he was clever. He offered me more than a distraction from the petty jealousies and foolish battles of the seraph, he offered me release from it. He offered me an invitation to visit this realm, to live here.” Lily chuckled, and it sounded like two steel-hulled ships grinding together in a windstorm. “He thought he could bind me. Can you imagine? He was arrogant, as I mentioned, and full of his own ‘power,’ which was nothing to speak of.

  “But still, I played along. I stood inside his ridiculous circle of salt—his summoning circle—and played the dumb, cowed demoness the silly man expected. I came naked, and his lust was obvious. It took only five minutes to convince him to break the circle of salt and come to my arms.

  “I admit to a certain curiosity about the world, about the men and women in it, and he was eager to please me, though inept and inadequate to the task.” Her hand snaked out of the darkness and came to rest on his thigh, sending a shiver rippling up and down his body. “Unlike some I’ve known since.” She almost purred the sentence, sounding as close to his ear as a person could get without climbing right on inside his ear canal. “But still, Akkad wasn’t home, and no djinn, no ifrit, no mazzikim, and most of all, no seraph could bother me here.

  “After a time, I grew somewhat bored with Utukku’s pettiness. I told him I needed to be among my own kind. I promised to leave him and return home unless he taught me the secrets, the magic he’d used to bridge the two realms. He seemed happy to reveal his hard-won knowledge, like a puppy happy to do a trick at his master’s call.

  “I used his incantations to summon Lilu, and this time, he came, intrigued by the time I had spent here. I promised him worshippers, a source of sustenance much more enjoyable than that of the mazzikim, the djinn, or even the ifrit.

  “Once here, Lilu wanted blood, and Utukku was more than happy to accommodate him. He waged war for the sake of violence, and Lilu was there, dining on the death of mortal men.

  “While the two were away, I summoned my faithful maid Lamia—a djinn, mind—and later, I brought one of my acolytes to this world. An ifrit named Abyzou. We three had a merry old time among the Akkadians. Great fetes where thrown in our honor—we were goddesses, you see.

  “But the temptations of the flesh led Lilu astray, and we quarreled often. He grew jealous of my status in the temples of Akkad and conspired with Utukku to banish me.” A mournful sigh escaped her. “What he didn’t realize is that Abyzou, Lamia, and I had created a place for him in our burgeoning pantheon among the priests and priestesses of Akkad, but we’d kept it secret from him, intending to surprise him.” Lily drew a deep, ragged breath, taut with emotion, and the suppressed promise of violence and death. “He betrayed me, you see? That, above all else, I cannot abide.”

  “And you banished him?”

  A harsh chuckled filled the darkness surrounding them, and Toby shuddered at the menace it contained. “No, vato. I didn’t send him home as you do these petty mazzikim.”

  “Then, what?”

  “I consumed his soul, Tobycakes.” She said it as though she said nothing more frightening than a morning greeting. “I sucked it into myself, and Lilu was no more. What’s more, Lilu could never come back. He’s dead, truly dead.

  “But enough of Lilu and ancient times. None of this is what I wanted to tell you, only what was needed to be told to lay the foundation.” She fell silent, and the music swelled as though to fill the void left by her silence.

  “What is that music? It makes me feel so…strange.”

  A fresh, dry hand emerged from the darkness and patted his cheek, pointed fingernails trailing across his skin as she withdrew her hand. “I’ve been here for all the millions of days since then, searching for another to stand by my side. From time to time, I’ve found suitable candidates and invested heavily in their causes. Some were small men with small ambitions, others were grandiose men with huge ambitions. Adolf Hitler was one such, and Joseph Stalin another. I grow bored in the company of grandiose men quickly. Or perhaps they grow tired of me because they usually stoop to betrayal before the others.

  “That’s what my time here has been: one betrayal after another. And civilizations rose and fell while I wept with bitter loneliness. Even my own child shuns me, preferring to pretend to be a mazzikim than taking her rightful place at my side.”

  “Brigitta?” he whispered.

  “Naamah!” she snapped in a voice like thunder.

  “We thought… She pretended to be one of Herlequin’s daughters.”

  “Yes. More to spite me, though she claims it was to honor the charlatan himself.”

  “She’s the crimson-flamed one from the parking lot?”

  “An ifrit, yes.”

  Toby remained quiet for the space of twenty breaths, thinking about what she’d told him. “But‍—‍”

  “You, Toby Burton, are a suitable candidate.”

  “Me?” Surprise rendered him muddle-headed.

  “You. I can give you power, Toby. I can change you at a fundamental level, make you immortal. Together, we can rule the world, we can make this planet tremble at our wrath, beg for our succor. You can be a king by my side, a god, and I, a queen, a goddess.”

  Outside, the wind blew, an
d the sun beat down on the desert as though light and sand were mortal enemies. Toby stared out at the desert for some time before speaking. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been one to lust after power. And…” he turned his attention back to Lily. “And I have this previous commitment, you see.”

  “Banishing the mazzikim.”

  Toby swallowed, fighting the dryness in his throat. “I don’t think I could be happy, knowing they ran free, using—no eating—people.”

  Lily cocked her head to the side and stared at him for a moment, then inclined her head and allowed her long red hair to cascade in front of her face. “The mazzikim mean very little to me.”

  “And before I committed to anything, I would have to understand your nature. We can start with what you eat.”

  A sigh gusted out of Lily, and she turned her head to stare out into the desert as Toby had a few minutes before. “Why is it you humans are driven to complicate everything?” She chuckled, though it was not an amused sound, and returned her attention to Toby’s space. “I am attracted to you, Tobes. And it’s quite obvious that you are attracted to me.” She flashed a lopsided smile at him and directed her gaze to his manhood. “Is that not enough?”

  “It’s true that I am attracted to you, Lily. As a woman, you’re perfect—you tick every box I have. But I know that isn’t your true form.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “It stands to reason,” Toby said.

  “Ah. Then tell me, cazador, what is my true form?”

  Toby frowned and crossed his arms. “I admit I have no idea. How could I know? You’ve already told me you can assume any form you want.”

  “Then why assume that this form is not my own?”

  “The mazzikim‍—‍”

  “I am not one of the mazzikim!” she snapped, and fire danced in her eyes.

  Toby looked away and dropped his arms to lay across his knees like some yogi entering a meditative state. “I understand that, Lily. You say the mazzikim are as different from you as monkeys are to me, but I only have experience with your mazzikim. Well, the mazzikim in Oneka Falls and your daughter.”

  “Then you must take my word on it.” She drew a deep, calming breath and let it whistle out between her teeth. “This is not going as I had planned.”

  “What in life ever does?” Toby smiled at Lily, and they chuckled together. “You say that the time you spend here has been one betrayal after another, and yet you would have me choose to be by your side without knowing who you really are? I’m not casting blame on you, but don’t you think that might contribute to the painful ending of your relationships?”

  Lily leaned across the platter filled with cooling meat and patted him on the cheek. “Sometimes, we are all too close to the problem to see the easiest solution.” She sat back and gazed into his eyes. “What you say may be true, but…”

  “But you don’t fully trust me, either.”

  “You are committed to banishing my worshipers. You said it yourself.”

  “Worshippers? But you said the mazzikim mean very little to you.”

  Lily smiled at that and put her hand on Toby’s knee. “Part of what attracts me to you, chico mio, is your cleverness. Let me raise you up. Or at least let me show you how it could be. Let me show you everything.”

  Toby allowed his gaze to meander across her body, fighting the lust it stirred within him, but drinking in the sight of her naked form. It was a tempting idea, spending every waking moment with a woman as beautiful and as willing to go au naturel as Lily. The power she offered him didn’t tempt him—except that it might allow him to solve the problem of Oneka Falls once and for all.

  But the rest of it… He wanted what she offered more than he’d ever wanted anything else.

  4

  “Benny?” asked Sean. “Do you have a second?”

  Benny’s gaze tracked to where Shannon lay on the couch with her eyes closed, then bounced to Sean’s face. “I‍—‍”

  “Go, Benny,” sighed Shannon. “Kristy will keep track of me.”

  Benny gave a curt nod. “Let’s go out on the deck.”

  They walked out onto the plank deck, and Sean closed the door behind them. “I have an idea. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others and get everyone’s hopes up…”

  “What is it?”

  “Akkad seems to be the first place Lilitu is called out—though they called her Ardat Lili. This maker’s mark on the lamp is Akkadian cuneiform. The cuneiform on the incantation bowls I looked at was Babylonian—which means it was made between two and five hundred years after Akkad fell.”

  “Okay,” Benny said with a shrug.

  “The earliest reference to Lilitu we have is from Akkad. Call it 2300 BCE. Four thousand years ago.”

  “I’m still not seeing your point, Sean.”

  “Establishing the frame of reference is all. Why would the Lilitu myth originate in Akkad if she was around earlier? Remember that the maker’s mark is Akkadian, too.”

  Benny twirled one finger in a circle and glanced over Sean’s shoulder at Shannon through the glass door.

  “What if the Akkadian language is itself special to these demons?”

  “Special how?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m willing to bet that the incantation bowl thing started in Akkad, too. I bet it started because Lilitu posed a genuine threat to Akkadians.”

  “Or Lilitu and this Abby.”

  Sean nodded.

  “Say I believe that, where are you going with this?”

  “What if we can build our own incantations?”

  “I’m not sure‍—‍”

  “We could research Akkadian magic. Look up all their curses, and their versions of the incantations like on the bowls. Their magic, in other words.”

  “Magic.” Benny allowed the word to roll around inside his head, picking up impressions of stray thoughts the way Silly Putty picked up images from the funny papers. “But magic isn’t real. What these demons do seems more like telepathy or mind control. Herlequin said as much to me. He said our perceptions were easy to manipulate.”

  “Heinlein said, ‘One man’s magic is another man’s engineering.’”

  “Yeah, and Arthur C. Clarke said, ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ What’s your point?”

  “What if we can derive syntax and semantics from these magic spells and incantations?”

  “Then we could make our own.” Benny sighed. “But that doesn’t mean they would work.”

  “Maybe not, but isn’t it worth a try?”

  Benny cocked his head to the side and stared at Sean for a few minutes. “Maybe so. See what you can do, but I also want more information on that lamp.”

  Sean nodded and pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and began to thumb-type furiously. “And I’ll check on the land grab thing while I’m at it.”

  5

  Lily stretched, and it was full of languor and lasciviousness. “I do love it when you look at me with lust in your eye, Tobycakes. You can see me like this every moment until time itself breaks and space becomes a true void. All you have to do is say yes. Not even that, you have only to nod.”

  Toby closed his eyes and drew a deep breath in through his nose. Having her so close, her scent enveloping him, her delectable flesh within arm’s reach, made it difficult to withstand her temptations. “Lily, I need to know.”

  Silence fell between them for a moment, and then Lily began to hum, but not as she had when she accompanied the strange desert music. Instead, the melody evoked a shivering fear within him. After a moment, Toby realized she was humming more than one note at a time, making mournful, dissonant chords, and his resistance began to crumble.

  “No.”

  Lily smiled and nodded her head, continuing to hum her haunting melody.

  “No.” Toby tried to stand, tried to lurch away from her, but Lily’s smile only widened. “No, Lily! Not like
this!”

  Without seeming to move, Lily was in his lap, one hand stroking his cheek. She lifted her chin and hummed directly into his ear, and the music crawled inside his brain.

  “No,” he murmured.

  Lily’s lips brushed against his ear, sending a cascade of pleasure shuddering through him. “Yes,” she said without breaking the melody, and he could resist no longer.

  6

  “Benny, we have to find a way to help Toby,” said Shannon in a sleep-clogged voice.

  The nap was supposed to do her good, and Benny needed time to think—time away from all the new faces, all the new demands for decision-making that Toby usually provided.

  He also wanted a reprieve from the expression on Mike’s face—the grief, the sorrow, but also the jealousy. Benny understood how Mike felt. He imagined he might feel the same way if the Walkers had brought him home and left Shannon in the hospital.

  “I don’t see how, Shan.”

  She pushed herself up until she could sit with her back against the headboard, and her legs kicked out straight. “I know. I don’t see how, either, but…” A sigh gusted out of her. “He’s in trouble, Benny. Bad trouble that makes his run-in with Herlequin look like a camping trip. What’s worse is that he doesn’t seem to know how close the danger is.”

  Benny leaned against the headboard, mimicking her position and sliding closer. “How do you know these things, Shannon?”

  Her attention leaped from the bunched-up comforter on her lap to his face for half a second, then she looked away. “I had this dream…”

  “Another lost-in-the-desert dream?”

  Shannon picked at the pattern of stitching that decorated the comforter. “Yeah. In the dream, Toby was in the desert, but this time it was like he was on a camping trip.” She lifted her gaze to his face. “But it’s a camping trip with the devil. It’s like the forty days and forty nights in the Bible.”

  “Wrong desert,” said Benny without knowing why.

  “What?”

  “Jesus was tempted in the Judean Desert. That’s not where Toby is.”

  Shannon stared at him for the time it took to take two calm breaths. “How do you know?” she asked quietly.