by Alex Marcoux
Mumbling from the nearby chamber brought her to the curtain that separated the rooms. She peeked. Zuka paced, cussing under his breath. He chewed fruit, then drank his beer quickly.
Dalila stepped into the room. “We need to talk!”
He rested his cup on a table, then waved a hand at her, showing his lack of interest in speaking to her. “This is not a good time.” He was pale.
“I know that Kek ordered you to kill Lukeman,” she blurted out.
“And how exactly would you know that? I just left him,” he yelled.
“That doesn’t matter. You can’t kill him, Zuka.”
“I have no choice.” Zuka paced the room, resting a hand on his hip. “If I don’t, my bowels will be fed to the lions for breakfast. Wait! The only way you could have known that—is if you were there. You are sleeping with Kek?”
“Who I’m sleeping with is irrelevant to this conversation. I never ask who you sleep with. This is about Lukeman, and you are not going to harm him.”
Zuka laughed. “And who is going to stop me?”
Dalila removed the dagger from her robe. “Don’t make me use this, Zuka. He’s our brother…You cannot kill him.”
Zuka didn’t believe his eyes. He approached her. “And I’m your brother and husband, you’re not going to kill me.” Swiftly, he smacked the back of his hand across her face, the blade falling from her grip. She fell against the table, and downward to the floor. Dalila eyed the dagger, only inches from her grasp. She reached for it! His foot stomped her hand. Dalila groaned. Her hand was visibly broken.
Zuka kicked the knife and propelled it across the floor, out of her reach.
Dalila, kneeling and cradling her injured hand, rose to her feet. She eyed her husband. His smug smile enraged her. She charged at him raising her good hand, but he grabbed her wrist.
From within his robe, he extracted something, and pressed lightly against her chest. It pricked her. She couldn’t believe her eyes. A dagger had pierced her skin.
A sinister smile came to Zuka’s lips. He twisted her arm behind her, and embraced her pushing the blade slightly further. “You cannot beat me,” he whispered in her ear. Abruptly, he thrust the dagger deep into her chest.
* * *
As Lukeman departed from Asim’s home, he was surprised that he didn’t have a sense of completion. Something just wasn’t right. Dalila came to mind, and he wanted to wish her well, so he set out for the palace. But when a servant searched for her to announce his arrival, a shrill scream confirmed that something was amiss.
Lukeman raced to the chamber where he found her body in a pool of blood. He knelt beside her. A dagger was imbedded in her chest. He yanked the blade from her heart and angrily hurled it against the wall. “Who did this?” he cried, tears streaming down his face. He cradled her like a child, warm blood trickling onto his chest. Placing his cheek along hers, he whispered, “Who did this?” Lukeman didn’t need to hear an answer, he knew it was Zuka. “I will take you to the temple, my Dalila.”
Barely cognizant of his surroundings, he trudged through the palace cradling his sister’s body, his face wet with tears. Lost in his thoughts, he missed those individuals who recoiled by the sight of them. Out into the courtyard, he headed for the south exit. The moon had risen now, and Thoth illuminated his passage.
Still carrying Dalila, he circled the temple’s courtyard, praying to purge his soul of selfish thoughts and urges. Beside the hypostyle, he plodded, chanting aloud to prepare her for transformation. “In the morning rays of Ra—you are a child, in Thoth’s evening moonbeams—an old man, at the beginning of the year—a newborn.”
Lukeman was so distraught that he never heard the footsteps following him from the palace. Nor was he conscious of the movement behind the hypostyle’s columns. He certainly missed the eerie shadows cast by the tall pillars. It was the reflection of a metal sword in the moonlight, however, that caught his eye. He turned toward the advancing man. Zuka waved a sword over his head, the blade whizzing through the air.
“Put her down, Lukeman, and prepare to die,” Zuka ordered.
“I need to take her to the funerary temple.” Lukeman continued his march.
Zuka stood before him, blocking his path. He pressed the tip of the blade against Lukeman’s chest, forcing him to stop.
The blood on Zuka’s hand and robe confirmed Lukeman’s suspicions. “Why did you do this, Zuka?” His eyes on his sisters face, “She was innocent in this.”
“She tried to kill me,” he whined.
“Help me prepare her for the afterlife, and then you may fulfill your destiny.” Lukeman recoiled from the sword and headed toward the hypostyle entrance.
Zuka followed him. “My destiny is to kill you, here, and now.” In a flash, Zuka impaled Lukeman from behind.
The sword plunged through Lukeman’s back, exiting his abdomen. The blade also penetrated Dalila’s body. Eyes wide, he gasped from the sudden pain. Then the blade was jerked haphazardly from their bodies, intensifying Lukeman’s agony. Warm blood streamed from his back and abdomen. He stumbled to his knees, and couldn’t hold her any longer. He awkwardly set her down on the hard surface and rested next to her, laying his head on her shoulder.
He reached for Dalila’s hand and whispered to her, “I will see you soon.” His heart was heavy. He had failed. He couldn’t prepare her for the afterlife. He couldn’t absolve his father. He had failed at offering humankind the opportunity to seek eternal life, to know true Light, and to understand the royal secret.
A shadowy figure emerged from the hypostyle. It was Kek. He faltered when he saw Dalila’s body, and then fell to his knees beside her. “What’s happened?” he roared.
“Oh Great Architect of the Universe,” Zuka said, pointing at Lukeman, “he killed her.”
Kek knew that Lukeman would never kill Dalila, besides Zuka’s shimmering aura announced that he had lied. Kek’s lips met Dalila’s. “I will prepare you for the afterlife, my love,” he whispered. “And will never allow anyone to harm you again. Never!”
Lukeman heard Kek’s eternal pledge to protect Dalila.
Kek got to his feet, his rage swelling inside of him. “Zuka, prepare to die.”
Nervously, Zuka raised the weapon to protect himself. “But I didn’t do it,” he backed away, whimpering.
Crazed, Kek advanced on Zuka. Just within arm’s length of each other, Zuka’s blade crashed down toward Kek’s head. He leaped from the blade’s path. It collided with the ground, and Kek lunged for Zuka’s wrist, disarming him. The sword clattered on the stone floor.
Desperate and scared, Zuka was in tears. He yanked a dagger from his robe, the same knife that Dalila had pulled on him. He considered slicing his own throat. But Kek approached, and Zuka lunged at him, scratching Kek’s chest.
Kek grabbed Zuka’s hand. Being stronger than Zuka, he smoothly swiveled the weapon toward Zuka. He savored that moment, then thrust the blade into Zuka’s chest.
The shriek could have wakened Ra from his slumber. “Zuka!” Oba cried.
As Zuka had lunged at Kek, Oba emerged from the temple. Now, he watched his son stumble and fall lifelessly to the ground. Oba rushed to his youngest born. As he knelt beside him, he saw the two other bodies nearby. He stood. Could one of the bodies be Lukeman? How could he lose two sons in one day? Steadily, he approached them, and when he saw it was Lukeman and Dalila, he stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he staggered from the bodies of his three children, lost, and he wailed.
Kek approached Oba. He gazed into Oba’s pain-filled eyes. No person should bear that agony. He laid a hand on Oba’s head, closed his eyes, and chanted. Moments later, Kek withdrew his hand. “No man should ever feel your pain,” Kek said. With that, Oba’s pain was relieved, because Kek had eternally hardened his heart.
Lukeman felt his life force slip from his body. The images of Kek and his father disappeared, and darkness engulfed him. Then suddenly a brilliant light surrounded him and his faith in the afterlife was co
nfirmed.
* * *
Disoriented and confused Jessie was back, strapped in the chair. Her head pounded. She heard the door slam behind her, conveying that Kek had just left the chamber.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Rachel paced the mural room for close to a half hour. All along, Whitman remained silent and studied her from the couch. Finally, she sat down facing him, her back to the door. “My patience is wearing,” she said. “You promised me answers. When will I get them?”
Unknown to Rachel, Kek had entered the doorway. Kek gestured for silence with a finger to his lips. He cocked his head, suggesting that Whitman leave.
“You will get your answers soon,” Whitman said. He stood. “I will be back.” Whitman passed Kek and shut the door on his way out.
Rachel was frustrated. She needed answers. She sighed, and then ran her fingers through her long hair.
“Hello, Rachel,” Kek said from behind her.
Rachel’s heart thumped. She had thought that she was alone. She refrained from showing her unease. Instead, she acted unruffled. “Are you here to give me answers?”
“I am indeed.”
“It’s about time.” Rachel stood and looked at her adversary. Her knees weakened when she caught sight of him. Her heart raced and dizziness overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes and shook her head to dispel the hallucination, but a second look confirmed who was staring at her.
“Daddy? Is that you?” Her voice was meek, no longer unruffled.
“It is, Rachel.” He smiled and took a step toward her; his arms opened to embrace her.
Rachel retreated. “You’re not my father! He died over twenty-five years ago!”
“I didn’t die, sweetheart. My death was staged.”
“My father would be in his sixties. You look like…you haven’t aged a day.”
“We have much to discuss, Rachel.”
Rachel was shocked. She continued to distance herself from him, until she was backed against the wall.
He stopped. “I’m not going to hurt you, Rachel. I brought you here to tell you about your heritage. You have the birthright to sit with me and rule the world.”
“What?” Her head throbbed. Tears sprang from her eyes. “Did you kill West?”
“West became a threat; he was a very smart man…too smart for his own good.”
“Steve? You killed Steve too?”
“Mercer somehow recognized me as Charles Addison. He knew that I supposedly was killed years earlier.”
“He saw your picture in my office,” Rachel mumbled. She recalled the last phone call she had with Steve: “It’s the ultimate conspiracy… Don’t trust anyone.”
“Apparently Mercer spent his initiation snooping around. We were never clear on what he had surmised.”
Rachel was afraid to ask. “Are you Kek?”
Now how would she know me by that name? “I have been called many names. Kek is one of them.”
She didn’t believe it. She crept along the wall, inching further and further away from her father. “You are Kek? The prince of darkness?” It was only a whisper.
Kek nodded. “I have been called that.”
“The devil? Satan?”
“Yes. I have been called many names over the centuries. Lucifer, Abaddon…even Charles.” He stepped toward her.
The room spun. “Stay away from me. I’m the daughter of Satan? You killed them. You killed West and Steve, and you killed Mom.”
“You know that’s not true. She’s alive.”
“Some life! She’s living in a nuthouse all because she claims to still see you.” Rachel stared intently into her father’s eyes. “You bastard! You visit her, don’t you?” Tears welled in her eyes.
Kek pressed a button on his watch and spoke into it. “I need a sedative.”
Rachel laughed. She wondered if she were losing her mind. “All these years I blamed that damn Freemason group for taking your life. I was determined to uncover the evil that existed there so I could have closure and move on.”
A man entered carrying a syringe. He advanced on Rachel, who was still backed up against the wall. She dodged him, only to fall prey to Kek’s grasp.
“Let go of me!” she screamed. As Rachel tried to twist free of Kek’s clutch, the man injected the sedative. Her arm stung. The room dimmed, and the light was gone.
Kek caught her as she collapsed. Tenderly, he carried her to the couch. Whitman, hearing the commotion, had entered and moved to the couch where Rachel was out cold. “I take it she didn’t handle it well.”
“Not very. I didn’t tell her much, though. She has so much more to learn before she can make her decision.”
“You really think she’ll join you?”
“She always has.”
“We do have another option. My sons.”
“They’re not ready. We need to ensure the family remains in power, now. We can’t wait for them.”
Whitman changed the subject. “What about Mercer?”
“I don’t get her.” Kek’s eyes met Whitman’s. “She knew me by the name Kek.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Hours later Rachel woke. She sat up on the couch. Her head pounded and she was lightheaded. Her first image was the Egyptian mural. As she sat there, recalling the outrageous turn of events, her anger grew. She moved to the door and confirmed that is was locked. Rachel struck the door, announcing that she had awakened.
Within minutes, the door was unlocked and opened. Kek lingered in the doorway. “Let me be direct, Rachel. You cannot beat me. You cannot break out of here. My desire is to introduce you to my life.”
“Why?”
“You have a decision to make—whether to join me and rule the world…or not.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Let’s take this one step at a time.” He backed into the lobby. “Let’s walk.”
Rachel stepped into the sterile area. With its lofty ceiling and size, it was reminiscent of a gymnasium. She walked beside him. “You are the devil, aren’t you?”
“Yes…and no.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve got to give me some straight answers. How did you meet Mother?”
“You know that story. I met her through a congregation member at a church she had been attending.”
“How would the devil meet someone in church?”
Kek stopped walking. “Once a generation, I set out to build a family. I selected your mother for a number of reasons, none of which are important right now. Since I wanted her, it was only logical that I meet her in a nonthreatening place. Church was only logical. We met, married, and we had you. In each family that I set out to build, I stay with the family ten to fifteen years. Because I don’t age in the manner that you age, I need to move on before my youth draws attention.”
Kek continued his pace and Rachel followed. “So you move on and destroy lives, including Mother’s.”
“I adore your mother, and I know I made a huge mistake. When you graduated from Princeton, I wanted to be there. What were the chances that your mother would have seen me amid the thousands attending? Not very good! At least, that’s what I thought.” He sighed. “We literally bumped into each other on the front lawn of Nassau Hall! I wish I could do it over again, but I can’t. It was really unfortunate. After that I had no recourse but to have her institutionalized.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“Let me continue. As my children have grown, I have always approached them to see if they have the same quest for power and interest to rule the world.”
“And do they always join you?”
“There have been a few rare exceptions.”
“And I’ll be one of them.”
Kek smiled, admiring her spunk. They had walked full circle around the large vestibule and returned to the mural room. He pointed at the couch suggesting that Rachel sit. Instead, she stood with arms staunchly crossed. He sat in a soft chair.
Rachel changed the subject. “Have you chased off all the me
n in my life?”
“I don’t expect that you’d understand this yet, but it’s important to maintain the bloodline. If someone has expressed interest in you and hasn’t met with my approval, they have simply been persuaded to leave you alone. I assure you that my interest has been solely to protect you.”
“Protect me? Who was responsible for cutting my brake line a couple years ago when I started investigating secret societies?”
“That was truly unfortunate for you and Albert Robbins. I assure you, he paid for his mistake.”
Rachel recalled the conversation with Neil Samson about his friend, Albert Robbins, who was found dead in his bed from snakebite. “I don’t believe this.”
“Rachel, you must start believing.”
She shook her head. “Okay. Amuse me. How could you ever control the world from a hell hole beneath DC?”
“It’s really quite simple. The key to our success has been to maintain our concealment. Other than a select few, nobody knows I’m here. Although I’m the head of the Thirty-Third Council, only two people report to me, and they’re family.”
“Yes. I’m familiar with pyramid chain of command.”
“Only family, and of course the Secret Service know I am here. The Secret Service runs this complex for me.”
“That may explain how your identity has been kept secret, but how do you control the world?”
“Every secret group’s objectives, plans, motives are indirectly manipulated by me, because they’re connected to the Thirty-Third Council. This includes the Bilderbergers, the Council on Foreign Relations, Trilateral Commission, along with any secret-based group you can think of. We control everything, Rachel. If I want a war to break out, it will. If I want the market to crumble, it does. If I want an incurable disease that destroys the immune system, it appears.”
