"Typical French. Guess that's why I always loved the county. The foundation has a lot of assets there?"
"Of course. That is our country of origin."
"Then that is where we should go and prepare to meet Samael head on. À bois noueux, hache affilée," I said in Monique's native language.
"You meet roughness with roughness, yes, but what can you do in France that you cannot do here?"
"We have no leverage here. It's a small island that he could overtake easily, but if we had an entire country behind us, then he'll be forced to sit down in the same room with me and negotiate." I didn't realize how naïve I was being, or how much my naivety would cost the world. "I will take his head; end of negotiations. Simple."
"Okay. If that is how you want to do it." She sounded skeptical.
"It is. I will have to gain access to the French president. Can we track his location so I can make a surprise visit?"
"I am sure we could. You can bust down doors, and flash your fangs for all to see." She leaned across the table smiling, and placed a hand on mine. "Or I can make a call and get you in to see him like a normal human. He is a friend of the family."
"Oh," I said sheepishly. "Yes, please make the call."
"I'm glad you see it my way. We need to promote your image very carefully after your recent antics. What will you ask of the president?"
"To be the bait that brings Samael to me."
"Good luck with that brilliant plan. I'm sure he won't mind at all." Her sarcasm was thick.
"All I need for him to do is arrange a meeting with Samael. I'll take care of the rest."
As the conversation lulled, I picked up my glass and drank deep, trying to hide my curiosity about her. From the corner of my eye, I watched as she picked up a strawberry and slipped it into her mouth. Her full lips were the lips of Elizabeth, as were her hands, her eyes, her hair, and even the way she moved brought back memories. It was surreal.
"What is it, Michael? Why are you watching me like a CIA spy?"
I put the glass down. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was being so obvious."
"You would make a bad spy."
"I was just wondering…when you see the old pictures of yourself, what do you feel?" For a moment, she looked flustered, but she regained her composure and looked me in the eye.
"I am Monique, now. I have started a new life just as you did. Please don't let the fact that I look like your ex-wife confuse you."
"I didn't mean…" She cut me off.
"Consider me her twin sister, for in many ways that is what I feel she is to me."
"Fair enough. May I ask though where you got the potion from?"
"You can ask, but I can't answer. I don't remember," she said.
"That's how it is when I'm on it. Vague memories of distant past lives that seem more like dreams. Things do become clearer the more recent the human life was, but there's nothing in my mind hinting of my true nature when I'm on the potion. It's disconcerting to think you are human, but then the doctor breaks a needle trying to give you a flu shot."
"Or you get thrown through a car window in a head on collision and don't even suffer a scratch."
"Ouch. That happened?"
"Yes." She took a sip of her drink and then looked at me thoughtfully. "It's as if I woke up in the 1800s a human, and have been wandering the earth ever since."
"1800s?"
"I imagine that's when someone first gave me the potion, but memories are vague that far back. I have a question." She leaned forward, a curious look in her beautiful blue eyes.
"Okay."
"Why don't I need to drink blood like you?"
"Blood is our fuel, similar to uranium being the fuel for a nuclear power plant, except we operate with more efficient and less radioactive cold fusion. The potion lowers your fusion rate—your metabolism—to that of a normal human. Whatever fuel was in you when you drank the potion is sufficient enough to power your body at such low levels for decades, if not centuries."
"No wonder I'm never that hungry. What exactly are we?"
"Andre never told you?" I asked.
"When my memory briefly returned when he was in the hospital all those years ago, after what the Nazis had done to him, he said that I told him many things. I begged him to tell me what they were, but he claimed that it was too dangerous, fearing that Samael would find me and get whatever I learned out of me. The only thing he did tell me was that I was supposed to stay close to you, but not too close…if you know what I mean."
"That's what he told me, too, but considering we were married, I don't understand why you would have told him we shouldn't get too close."
"From what he has hinted, I think our marriage was a mistake." Hurt filled my eyes and she looked down, perhaps feeling it herself.
"Falling in love is never a mistake," I said, recovering boldly, hinting at how I still felt. "As for what we are, it's complicated, but I'll tell you what I know." I gave her the description that I had given my daughter at the dining room table several nights before.
"Interesting," was all she said when I was through. "So if you are the mighty Archangel Michael, and Samael is also an archangel, and this Ra is the god figurehead…who am I?"
"I don't know, Elizabeth." She looked at me sharply, but let my mistake go without reprimand. "I'm sorry. Monique, I don't know who you are. Memories grow hazy beyond a thousand years, and there used to be hundreds of us. We may have never met before we fell in love."
"Stop saying that," she said.
"What?"
"That we were in love."
"But we were, and…I just can't fall out of love when here you sit before me once again."
She stayed silent, picking at the food on the table, glancing out at the ocean and then back at the garden, looking at everything but me. At last, she did look into my eyes and softly said, "I feel it, too, but if we allow it, you will be hurt."
"I can handle it."
"I can't. When you meet Samael," she said, suddenly changing the subject. "What if he is armed with this virus that can harm you?"
"I've been thinking about that," I said, following the path of discussion that made her most comfortable. "We should prepare our own viral weapon."
"It would take a long time to create such a virus, and we don't have that time."
"We don't have to create it. Karen delivered some in the vial meant for me."
She paused in thought, and then said, "Brilliant. I will have George see what he can do with it."
"George is a man of many talents," I said.
"He is. George joined us ten years ago, and before that, he was an elite Special Air Services soldier in the U.K. I doubt that there is anything he doesn't know."
"You have a lot of respect for him. Are you two…involved?" I asked, wondering if that might be the reason for her reservations about us.
She blushed. "Goodness no. He would like to be, I have no doubt, but George is like an older brother to me. The age difference itself, well…I just could never think of him that way."
"You're right. You must be at least five-thousand years older than him."
We erupted in laughter, but then a loud beeping coming from her pocket shattered the moment.
"Oh no, come on!" She jumped up.
"What is it?" I asked, standing.
"It's Andre's panic button!"
Knowing exactly where Andre's room was located, I flew past a stunned Monique and into the house. Avoiding the slower elevator, I raced up the huge staircase and roared into Andre's room. The nurse stood next to the bed, a tear in her eye.
"It's too late," she said. "He's gone."
"He can't be! I just got here!" I walked to the bedside where my elderly son lay pale and peaceful. "What about CPR? Shouldn't you be performing CPR?"
"I did for several minutes before I notified Monique."
"Why did you wait so long? I could have saved him!" Monique entered the room and placed a hand on my arm.
"No, Michael, y
ou couldn't. It was his time. It was his time long ago, but he fought it off, waiting for you." She went to Andre, bent over, and stroked his hair. "Thank you for everything. I love you, my child." She kissed his forehead and then stood, looking lost, wanting to cry but unable to. I took her into my arms, hoping to give her strength, wishing I could shed tears, too.
—————
At the end of the day, I sat on the edge of Lori's bed, tucking her in for the first time in years. Exhaustion hung heavy on her face, and the guilt of being the cause of it hung heavy in my heart. I gently pushed stray strands of hair away from her eyes and tried to smile.
"Want me to read you a bedtime story?" I asked.
"Only if you promise not to go to France in the morning," she replied. George had returned empty-handed, forcing us to evacuate before Samael showed up.
"Honey, I'm sorry. You know I have to take care of this. If I don't, then it will become a very dangerous world."
"What if he kills you?"
"He's been trying for centuries and still hasn't succeeded. I'll be fine."
"Dad, what if all of this is a lie, too?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean Andre and his foundation, and Monique. What if they are working for Samael and plan on trapping you?"
"Well, it's partly our foundation now. That means I can afford to bump up your allowance to twenty-five a week." I smiled, but she didn't return it. "Okay, seriously. Andre was my son, this I can promise you. And my senses—my superhero-strength senses—tell me that Monique is an honest woman."
"Yeah, that really worked well with Karen."
"I mess up once, and no one will let me live it down," I said, ruffling her hair. "Actually, alarm bells went off in me many times about Karen, but I failed to act on them. I think Karen wanted to be a friend, but something prevented it. Her confusion confused me."
"I know what you mean. When we were locked together in that classroom on the base, she got really weird."
"How?"
"One minute we were talking, and the next she just flaked out."
"Really? What happened?" I asked.
"She jumped up and demanded to the guard that she be brought to Samael. I thought that maybe she started acting so crazy because she had a plan to escape. The guard got on his radio and called someone. Next thing I know, a guy shows up and escorts her away. She was only gone a few minutes and then returned, completely back to normal."
"Strange. Can you remember anything else?"
"Not really. It all happened so fast. Wait! When the man entered to take her away, he called her something like Lam—" She stopped in thought. "Lamashtu. That was it. I assumed he just messed her name up."
I felt dread rise within. "Are you sure he said Lamashtu?"
"Yeah, why?"
I struggled with whether or not to tell her of my suspicions, but in the end decided not to. The child had been through too much already. To tell her before bed that a woman we both had trusted might be one of the most feared demons to ever exist, would probably send her over the edge.
"Dad?"
"Sorry, just trying to make sense of it, but I can't. I just think we were duped, that's all. I won't let it happen again. You need your rest. You have a big day tomorrow." The plan was for the maid, Julia, to take Lori to Disneyworld where they could get lost in the crowd. Julia would play the role of Lori's grandmother, which was a role that seemed to come naturally to her. I would meet them there once my business was complete.
I finished tucking Lori in, and left her with a kiss on the forehead and promises for a better future once things returned to normal. She was skeptical, but hopeful.
Armed with new concerns, I made my way through the large house and to the door of Monique's bedroom. I knocked softly. After a few moments, she answered in a shear-white flowing gown.
"Michael?" she said.
"I think we have a big problem."
"Come in." She stood aside. I entered; worried that she thought I had unsavory motives. A laptop was open on a small desk.
"Doing research?" I asked.
"Yes. The latest craze going around the world is a new religion. They call it Raphaelian. Samael is garnering quite a following. What is the big problem?"
"Lori described something that happened between her and Karen." I relayed Lori's experience to Monique, including my suspicion that Karen was a demon in disguise.
"So this Lamashtu is dangerous?" she asked when I was through.
"That's an understatement. Did you ever see the movie The Exorcist?"
"Oh yes, quite a scare that was."
"It's based on ancient Sumerian mythology. The demon, Pazuzu, that possessed Linda Blair in the movie was the one Sumerians called upon to protect them from Lamashtu. Compared to Lamashtu, Pazuzu is like a cuddly stuffed bear."
"Once again, I commend you in your choice of women. How the hell did these demons form?" she asked.
"They're sort of like us, but complications happened when they transitioned to an earthly state. It wasn't that uncommon, given the complicated nature of the process. They have less dark energy ironically, which makes them weaker, and it also makes their minds less stable."
"Incredible. So you think they are giving her an amnesia potion like we have had, and Lori witnessed it wearing off?"
"Yes. It's the only way they could confuse my senses. She truly believed she was the human named Karen."
"Perhaps it's a weaker or short-lived potion, unlike the one I took, and that's why Lori was lucky enough to see it wear off?"
"Possible. If Lamashtu still walks the world, then there could be countless others that Samael has working for him. We may be facing an army of immortals." Her eyes displayed concern, but not fear.
"We will prevail, Michael."
In silence, we looked at each other, not with awkward feelings, but with familiarity and suppressed desires surfacing. The tension of incredible attraction grew, born in desperate times, seeking solace in one another. She came close and stroked my cheek with her delicate hand.
"Until death do us part," she whispered. Monique took my hand and led me to the bed with a love that could no longer be denied. We kissed, and for the first time in decades, I felt as if I were home.
Chapter 30
A soft knock at the door woke me. Sunlight filtered through the shades, and outside, gulls squawked as they searched for breakfast. Monique still slept, her long hair cascading over the pillow, radiant in her beauty. I touched her gently.
"Monique, wake up. Someone's at the door," I whispered. She rolled onto her side and faced me, opening her sleepy eyes.
"Bonjour mon cher," she said, leaning forward and kissing my lips softly. The knock came again, but louder.
"Monique, get up. We leave in an hour," George yelled from the other side of the door. The sound of his voice brought her to full alert. She bolted upright, covering herself with the sheet.
"I'm up, George," Monique said. "Give me a few minutes."
"Okay. Have you seen the vampire? He's not in his room," George replied.
Monique looked at me with an uh-oh-we're-busted expression in her eyes. She bit her bottom lip while thinking, and then smiled. "Not to worry. I will track him down."
"Sounds good," George said. "I'll meet you on the plane. I have a lot to show you both. I was up all night working, unlike you two." I heard his heavy boots walk away.
Monique giggled. "He's always been so damn perceptive."
"I hope this won't upset him," I said.
"He'll be fine. He's a professional, but we better hurry so we don't get into more trouble."
An hour-and-a-half later, after several kisses, a shower, and a painful goodbye to Lori, we arrived at the Learjet. Across the tarmac, another plane idled while a crew loaded Andre's coffin. This plane would fly ahead of us, returning Andre to his home country where he could receive a proper burial. Seeing the black casket in the distance shattered the glow of love, bringing me back to cruel reality.
"Lucky I planned on you planning that I would be late," Monique said with a smile as she stepped onto the ladder to enter the plane. I followed her, flashing the ex-special-forces soldier a smile also, but he only sneered at me. I considered flashing my fangs, but decided to work on my diplomacy before meeting with the French president.
"Thank you," I said, crouching to enter the door. He grunted in reply.
Soon the plane was airborne, flown by George and his copilot. Once it leveled out, George exited from the cockpit and withdrew two dull-silver suitcases from a closet. While one seemed easily manageable, the other appeared to take considerable effort to move. He laid each on separate collapsible tables and unlocked them with a small key.
"We'll be stopping on the island of São Miguel in the Azores to refuel," he said. "If you two can postpone the honeymoon, we will head directly to Paris after that without disembarking."
"George! Please don't be like that," Monique said.
"I apologize, ma'am," he replied, his English accent taking on a more proper, but sarcastic tone. "A car will meet us at the airport in Paris and take us directly to Élysée Palace, where we have a meeting with the president and the prime minister at noon local time. Andre's funeral is scheduled for three o'clock." I detected a quiver in his voice at the mention of Andre. "Questions?"
George had seemed kind enough the day before, but had now grown icy. It became obvious that he carried a torch for Monique, and he felt that I threatened those flames. In all honesty, I had brutally snuffed them out, but now had to find a way to make peace with a resentful ally.
"No?" he continued. "Good. In this briefcase I have the weapon that you asked me to ready, Monique." He opened the lighter of the two cases as we stood to get a better look.
"It's a rifle. I thought we discussed a pistol?" Monique asked, observing the unassembled rifle resting in foam cutouts.
"It's the best I could do given the time constraint. Not to worry, it will do the job." He winked at her, displaying confidence that breeds trust. "So this is basically a tranquilizer gun used for animals." He picked up a silver canister resting next to the rifle and opened it, releasing a plume of wispy fog. Grabbing needle-nosed pliers from the case, George withdrew a syringe-style dart from the canister. "I'm hoping the cold keeps the virus alive longer, but no guarantees. Michael, I couldn't get any of that graphene you told me about shipped in and have time to work it overnight, so I used some carbon steel we had in the shop to form the needle."
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