"Somehow? You tried to kill me, and somehow is all you've got?"
"I'm sorry."
"What about your house? The sob story you told me about a rich ex-husband was a lie. Samael owns it."
"Really?" she said.
"Really? Stop playing games!" I started pacing in anger, trying to hold it in check.
"Mike, how do you know they are telling you the truth? Maybe these people are the ones working for Samael." She took a step closer and I eased away, towards the living room, worried my claws would slice her neck open if she kept up the charade. She followed.
"He was in your house, wasn't he?" I asked.
"Who?"
"You know who I'm talking about! Samael! He showed me pictures from inside your house. Tell me!" I grabbed her by the arms and shook her hard. "Tell me the truth!"
"Please, you're hurting me!" she cried.
"You tried to kill me in front of Lori!" My fangs snapped out, tingling with anticipation.
"Let me go and I'll tell you!" she said, nervous fear darting in her eyes.
I hesitated, ready to crush her bones in my grip, but rescinded hoping that the truth would spill from her lips at last. "Fine." I released her. "Now tell me."
"Okay, okay. I think Agent Blackwell set us up. I trusted him…he gave me the vial."
"You're lying!" I yelled.
"I'm not! He gave me the vial and the dried blood."
"Karen, Blackwell was dead before you ever got to the base. He was thrown out of the car like a ragdoll. Did you do it, or did Samael show up and help you out?"
She stood silent, her eyes growing blacker. She folded her arms and just stared at me.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Can't think of anymore lies?"
"Fuck you," she said in a voice void of emotion.
"If that's how you want it," I said, coming at her, prepared to seek out the truth through venom.
"No, don't!" she cried, backing away. She tripped over a brown-leather ottoman, swayed, and then fell. Her head collided roughly with the corner of an end table, knocking a heavy bronze lamp to the floor. I expected blood to start gushing, but she rolled over unharmed and glared at me with cold, dark eyes.
From behind, I heard the door bang open.
While pulling herself up, Karen said, "Is this how you break up with women when a new hottie comes along?" I stood stone still, my mind still trying to work out why her head wasn't slashed open. Monique and George rushed to my side.
"Michael," Monique said. "What the hell is going on in here?"
"Just trying to get the truth."
"It sounded like you were killing her."
"I want off this fucking island, now!" Karen said.
"Why? So you can go tell Samael where we are?" I asked.
"What should I do with her?" George asked. Just as I turned to him, Karen screamed. I rotated back around in time to see her lifting the bronze lamp high and then slamming it down on Monique's head. I reached out, but was too late.
"Impossible," Karen said, her voice a hushed whisper. Monique still stood, unharmed. "Michael's supposed to be the only other one." She took a step back, never taking her eyes off Monique.
"George, take this lying bitch and lock her up in the basement," Monique said coldly.
"My pleasure," he replied.
"Who are you?" Karen asked as George cuffed her. "I must know."
"Shut up. Get her out of here," Monique said. Behind the façade of strength, I imagined the supernatural endurance of her own body had flustered her.
George nudged Karen forward, steering her towards the doorway.
"You can't do this!" Karen yelled. "This is kidnapping!"
"Move it!" George ordered, pushing her hard.
"Michael, please!" Karen pleaded. "Don't trust them!" George forced her out the door and just as quickly as she had stepped into my life, she stepped out.
"Things really got out of control," Monique said.
"You were eavesdropping?"
"Of course," she said dismissively.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. I know I am different, but it's a little shocking to actually see it."
"Even once your memory returns, it can still be shocking," I said, and then turned the subject to our new prisoner. "Karen seemed genuinely confused, but after she saw you unhurt, she said that I'm supposed to be the only one. That convinced me she knows more than she's telling. I think she's a spy. A little venom in her will help us find out more."
"You don't want to risk getting her blood in you. I think she's more than a spy."
"What do you mean?"
"Jesus, were you in love with her or something?" She looked at me, eyes squinting with suspicious accusation.
"Well, no. It's just…"
"I heard her calling you Mike, and then it turned into Michael. Any idea why?"
"I don't know. Wait, are you saying she's one of us?"
"The thought has crossed my mind."
"Impossible! My senses would have detected it."
"Yeah right, like they did me," she said.
"Well, you're on the potion…" I trailed off, thinking about the blow to Karen's head that caused no damage, and the confusing scents she gave off. "Is it possible she's on it, too?"
"I've learned that anything is possible where Samael is involved." She came closer to me, her penetrating-blue eyes focused intently on mine. Softly she spoke, "There are very few people we can trust."
"I'm learning that fast," I said, drifting away upon the sea of her eyes.
We gazed at each other, and I felt an almost supernatural pull despite Andre's warnings. The magnetic connection locking our eyes grew more intense, and I felt myself falling forward. And then we were rudely interrupted.
Chapter 28
"Turn the telly on!" George yelled, entering the room once again. His breathing was heavy as if he ran back in a hurry. "The American president is speaking."
Monique blinked, breaking the spell. She turned and reached for the remote to the flat screen television hanging on the wall.
"Is Karen secured?" I asked George.
"Yeah. I handed her off to one of my men. He'll keep the wench in check."
The president's voice filled the room, her image coming to life on the television. I was dismayed when I saw Samael standing directly behind the president's right shoulder. Monique and I took a seat on the couch, instinctively grasping each other's hand in worried anticipation.
"…and he has proved to me, members of the Cabinet and Congress, and to you through his miraculous healings, that he is truly an Archangel sent to us by God. I give to you, the Archangel Raphael!" The crowd roared when Samael stepped forward, waving.
"Raphael?" Monique asked, looking at me.
"Samael killed Raphael eons ago, but he knows Raphael's name will be acceptable to religious people, whereas Samael would not be. If they don't know it already, a little research will tell them that Samael is Satan. Raphael was a healer."
"But the president knows he's Samael, right?"
"Thank you! Thank you!" Samael yelled into the microphone, smiling.
"Yes, from what she said at the Navy base, but obviously the government is no longer controlled by her."
From the open doorway, Lori walked in followed by the maid. They saw what we were watching and silently sat down in the loveseat to our right.
"Thank you!" Samael took a deep breath, and let his gaze travel over the audience. "I have missed you so much!" he cried. Cheers erupted.
"He's really playing them," George commented from his standing position behind the couch.
"I have returned for one purpose," Samael continued after the crowd noise died down. "To deliver a gift from my father, the almighty God." As he spoke through a wireless clip-on microphone, Samael levitated, rising slowly into the air and over the large audience. The camera followed, showing him and the awe-struck faces that looked up from under him.
"Many of you may feel that humanity is not worthy o
f a gift from God, but I am here to tell you that you are. We cherish you. Some of you may doubt, but I promise to show you. Many will fear the gift, but I will take your hand and lead the way. What is this gift, you may ask. The gift I bring you, dear children, is the gift of God's redemption!" he shouted, fist pumping in the air to emphasize each syllable.
The audience fell into an orgasmic frenzy of celebration that we stared at in disbelief. Some raised their arms and spoke mystical tongues, while others fell to the ground and appeared to go into seizures. Many swayed to imaginary music, and all had tears in their eyes. During this rapturous moment, Samael lowered himself back to the podium and raised his arms to regain control. Several minutes passed before he could continue.
"As the president described, I have already begun to heal you of your ailments. Hundreds of you so far, and over the next several weeks, I shall heal all of you. This, I promise!" More cheers.
"This is not good," I said.
"What?" Monique asked.
"Samael's venom initially appears to heal, but within a week—two at the most—the recipient of that venom dies brutally. The healing aspect of it never stops like mine does, spurning new growth so rapidly that rampant cancer evolves."
"Oh no." Monique pulled her hand free of mine and placed it over her mouth; worry filled her eyes.
With a victorious gleam in his eyes, Samael said, "Now, as any person who serves the Lord knows, He loves all of the people in the world, not just those in certain countries. This gift of God, I extend to all of humanity. To the starving in Africa, I offer you sustenance. For the oppressed in the Middle East, I will grant you freedom. In Eastern Europe, I shall free you from corruption with the power of justice. Your babies will be healthy, your children happy, and you shall bask in the radiant light of the Lord forever!" Applause erupted, while Samael continued to smile like a loving shepherd gazing over his flock of sheep.
"But friends," he continued, the smile quickly replaced by deadly seriousness. "For all to receive God's gift of eternal life, we must unite the world as one. There are some out there, both human and yes, even my kind, who will do anything to stop us from succeeding. They want you miserable and controlled. I will not let that happen! Satan shall appear soon and tell you that you are being deceived, but we know who the real deceiver is, don't we? Who is the deceiver?" he shouted.
"Satan!" the crowd roared back.
"We shall conquer Satan, and…" From the left side of the television screen, a man in uniform rushed on stage brandishing a pistol.
"Isn't that the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?" Monique asked.
"It's a trick!" the microphone picked up the general yelling. From point blank range, he fired the gun several times at Samael, clearly hitting him, but there was no apparent damage. Secret Service agents stormed the stage, burying the general in a sea of defensive flesh. People in the crowd gasped with fright, threatening to turn the audience into a panicked mob.
"Friends, friends! It is okay. Please, relax. I shall protect you," Samael said. "Fear will bring out such evil. You must not let it distract you from your mission."
The agents brought the disarmed general to his feet. His hair and uniform were in disarray, his face red and streaked with blood from hitting the floor. Samael walked towards him, holding up a hand indicating for the agents not to remove the man yet.
"General, it appears that you do not believe in God's love?" Samael asked, his voice echoing through the chamber.
"You are not from God," the general replied, straining to catch his breath.
"Release him," Samael ordered. The agents holding the general's arms looked incredulous. "I said release him!" They complied hesitantly. "Give me his weapon." An agent off to the side handed Samael the pistol.
"You won't get away with this," the general said.
"We will see whose side God is on. Here, take it and shoot me. If I die, then you are redeemed, but if you die, then my words are true." Samael handed the gun to the general and stood before the officer with arms at his side. The crowd was quiet, anxious. "Here's your chance. Shoot me!"
The general raised his arm slowly, placing the barrel a few short inches away from Samael's forehead. A loud bang thundered, followed by another, and then another. Samael stood, still smiling, while the general fell down dead, the pistol clanging loudly to the stage floor in the stunned silence of the auditorium.
"Get him out of here," Samael ordered. As the agents dealt with the body, slow-motion video of the incident played, showing a bullet ricocheting off Samael's head, causing shrapnel to slam into the general's eye.
"Oh my God!" Lori blurted. "He killed him! Why? What's going on?" Before I could reply, Samael's voice once again filled the room.
"Satan has many soldiers who are willing to die to keep you in chains. To defeat such an army, we must cut of its head. Would you like to cut off that head? Would you like to destroy Satan?" Still in shock, some nodded, but most stood still. "No? Is God wrong for coming to you now? Are you not ready?"
He paused, staring coldly out to the masses.
"Are you not ready?" he yelled, his voice reverberating well beyond the auditorium. "Because I think you are. Do not let me down. Would you like to destroy Satan?" More nods, some yelled yes. "I can give you Satan to vanquish from Earth at last. God calls upon you to be His champion. Are you ready?"
"Yes!" the audience cried, becoming more enthused.
"I said are you ready?" he shouted.
"Yes!" they roared as one.
"Good, because do I have a story for you. Satan walks the planet now. He is physical like me and like you, which means we can find and destroy him. This entity first came to my attention when he sexually assaulted this woman." The camera shifted to show a woman sitting in the front row. A cold numbness settled on me when I recognized that it was Cathy, my former receptionist.
"And then when his manager found out about this attack, Satan brutally murdered him and abducted his wife. She is still missing. Police reports on this will be available to the press after we are done. Next on his rampage, he put this boy in a wheelchair." The camera focused on the teenager who cherry bombed me when I was hitchhiking. "After that, he abducted a top U.S. scientist." Behind Samael, a projector screen lit up with the image of Karen.
"That's Karen!" Lori exclaimed.
"But this, my friends, is the icing on the cake. Pure evil in action. Watch."
Karen's face vanished as the screen went black for a second and then lit up with an aerial shot of fiery wreckage on the ground. The camera zoomed in, catching a burning man walking out of the wreckage. He fell to his knees just as soldiers arrived. They shot and he fell flat. The rest I had to close my eyes for because I knew it would show me draining both Agent Richardson and several soldiers, and then flying away.
"Dad, it's you?" I opened my eyes to see an enhanced close up of my face, with yellow catlike eyes and bloodied fangs. There I was for the whole world to see. I looked like a creature out of a horror movie, and realized that Samael had effectively turned me into Lucifer.
"They were trying to kill me," I offered as a meager defense.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is Satan, who is also known in his human form as Mike Spencer. We must search him out and…" I jumped forward and pressed the power button so hard that it broke.
"You did that? You killed those soldiers?" Lori asked.
"They came after me, and I grew weak, so…"
"You're no better than that animal on the TV! You ate those people!" She broke free of my arms and ran out of the room.
"Well, this is wonderful," Monique stated. "The savior of the world is now public enemy number one."
"I need to go talk to her," I said.
"She's too upset," Monique said. "I'll go talk to her. She needs to understand that we're at war, and it's not always pretty."
"Thank you. I hope she…"
A tall, dark-skinned man ran into the room, his Jamaican-accented voice interrupting me. "George
! I found Raul dead! His head twisted all da way 'round! Da woman is gone!"
"Damn it!" George exclaimed. "Raul was a good man! Any idea where she went?"
"She took a boat!"
"Let's get after her or the devil will know where we are very soon!" He turned to Monique. "I'll radio you with information as soon as I have some." The two men ran out, hoping to stop the traitorous Karen before she could do more damage. Monique and I stared at each other, feeling things unraveling before we had even started.
Chapter 29
"Samael has demanded surrender from the leaders of every country in the world. If they refuse, they will be assumed to be on Satan's side and subjected to elimination," Monique said during lunch.
"Sounds a lot like President Bush's obsession with evildoers; either you're with us or against us. Not sure that worked out so well. Iraq is still screwed up," I said.
She sipped on a light mojito, while I took a drink of what could pass as a Bloody Mary, but contained more bloody than Mary. We sat poolside under the tropical sun with a table full of shrimp, fruits, cheeses, and assorted breads between us. In normal times, it would have been blissfully romantic, but times were far from normal.
Thanks to Monique, my daughter came to some acceptance about the nature of her dad and of war. The violence she witnessed would require time for her assaulted senses to heal. Beyond that, she also struggled with the betrayal by Karen, as did I. Karen was now a wildcard, as of yet still managing to evade detection by George out on the high seas. If they didn't find her soon, we would have to assume she contacted Samael, and would be forced to evacuate the island.
"What's the reaction to Samael's demands from the international community?" I asked.
"So far, most African nations have been incoherent in their responses, the dictatorships in the Middle East are preparing for jihad, Russia is in chaos after Putin's death and that has China nervous. Great Britain of course is waiting to see what the U.S. does, which means they'll fold soon also, while France has flat out refused to acknowledge this insanity, as they called it."
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