Venom of the Gods

by Sebastian Chase

"Yes?" Samael answered on the first ring. The sound of his voice sent a quiver of hatred through me.

  "This is Secretary…"

  "Where the fuck have you been?" Samael interrupted.

  "We're still in France at the castle, negotiating with the Cabinet and several other politicians."

  "Negotiating what?"

  "Their surrender."

  "Michael allowed this?" Samael asked.

  "I am here Samael," I said. "Unlike you, I do not control the country with an iron fist. They feel that it's in their best interest to surrender, rather than risk nuclear war."

  "And what about you? You are their president now after all."

  "They just issued a press release declaring that upon surrender, you will take over as leader of the country." Earlier, we had coordinated this fake press release with several French politicians, hoping to buy some time.

  "Very smart of them," Samael said. "And Michael, I expect your surrender as well."

  "On one condition," I said. I knew I held some bargaining power, as with Ra imprisoned, I was the only one remaining capable of killing him. If I didn't surrender, then he would live in paranoid isolation, always worried about where I was. Not exactly his ideal ruler-of-the-world fantasy come true.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Karen has gone to retrieve the potion that made us both forget what we are. We want to take a large dose of it and live out our lives as a happy family with my daughter. We won't remember who we are, or who you are. You can keep an eye on us, basically holding all the cards." I knew I was taking a huge gamble, hoping he believed that I still felt for Karen and had more or Ra's venom stashed.

  "You know who she is, and you still want to be with her?" he asked suspiciously.

  "She's an incredible woman…in her human form," I said. Monique stuck her tongue out, wrinkled her nose, and crossed her eyes. I had to fight back a laugh.

  "I knew the bitch was up to something when she insisted on going. Fine, you can have the whore and your dull life. Where did you hide this extra potion?"

  Prepared for the question, I said, "Where I hide most things, in a mausoleum." If he knew about the potion I had in a safe deposit box years ago, plus more recently my stash in the mausoleum where he ambushed me, then he had to have been following me for a long time. He would know that I had several other stashes in graveyards around Europe.

  "The one in England or Belgium?" he asked. I smiled.

  "Let's just agree that once she has it, we'll return to the States, get married, and your worries will be over." Silence. "Take it or leave it."

  "Very well, I'll allow it," he said.

  Our plan was working like a dream, and I initiated phase two by pointing to Monique. She stood quickly, went to the door and knocked on it. The secretary said, "Come in."

  "Here are the surrender documents you wanted to review," Monique said, returning to the table and picking up a small stack of paper. She rattled it as she handed it to the secretary, being sure Samael would hear.

  "What does it say?" Samael asked through the speakerphone.

  "Quite simple," the secretary said. "They want a guarantee of the safety and liberty of French citizens, and if they get it, they will surrender to the Raphaelian League of Nations at 8:00 a.m. in a public ceremony."

  "Excellent!" Samael said. "Guarantee them whatever they want and get your ass back here. Let them know troops will be pouring in tomorrow at 8:01."

  "Sir?" the secretary said. "Is my family okay?"

  "If all goes well, they will be. It has taken me a lot of effort not to shut your screaming son up permanently."

  "I'm sorry, sir. He's autistic and probably very frightened."

  "Whatever. Just get it done. Michael, I expect you to be at this ceremony with your bride to be. You will be transported back here where we will set your little family up in a nice trailer park somewhere."

  "We'll be there," I replied flatly. The line went dead.

  I knew Samael didn't intend on letting me live free, but was playing nice in order to get his hands on me. As for me, I just didn't want him questioning Karen's whereabouts too hard. That part of the plan went well, but the secretary of state had tears in his eyes.

  "They're going to kill them when they find out this is all fake," he said.

  "Ideally, Samael will be dead before they find that out," I said." One thing he let out though was that he heard your son screaming. That means your family is somewhere on the compound with him. I'll do my best to find them."

  "Thank you."

  "What have I missed?" I asked.

  "It sounds like we have him right where we want him," George said.

  "What if…" Monique started, but clamped her mouth shut when the building shook violently. The sound of an explosion echoed dully through the room. Their faces dropped. "What was that?" she asked.

  "Can't be anything good," I said. "Let's go."

  George led the way out the door and to stairs that would take us to the main foyer. Halfway down, we bumped into one of George's hand-selected security men. His uniform looked disheveled and his eyes were full of unrestrained fear.

  "What the bloody hell happened?" George asked.

  "Someone launched a rocket into the castle wall!" he said, trying to catch his breath.

  "Another one of those crazies infiltrate the Army?" George asked.

  "Whoever it was, infiltrated the castle. They launched it from the inside!" he replied.

  "What?" George seemed stunned.

  A dreadful thought came to my mind. "Karen," I said.

  "What about her?" George asked. "There's no way she could escape. My best man is watching her."

  "All the same, we need to go check on her." To the security man I said, "Kill all communications in the country by order of the president. Internet, cell, and landlines. If she has escaped, we can't allow her to warn Samael. Communications stay down until she is dead or confirmed in custody. Understand?"

  "Yes, sir!" the man said, obviously relieved to have direction. He turned and ran back down the stairs.

  "Samael will hide so deep that you'll never find him if he learns you're coming," Monique said.

  "I know. Let's go see if our guest is in her cell or not."

  A quick jaunt to the basement confirmed my fear. The cell door was open, the guard lying in a heap across from it.

  "For Christ's sake, his wife just had a baby," George murmured, kneeling next to the man. A moan escaped from the injured guard, brightening George's eyes. "Drake! Can you hear me, Drake?"

  I went down to George's side and helped role Drake over. Monique handed me a military-styled jacket she found, and I used it as a makeshift pillow. The man's eyes fluttered open.

  "What happened?" George asked.

  "I…I…" He looked up at Monique. "Her!" he cried, trying to get up. We held him down.

  "Calm down," George urged. "That's Ms. Moreau. What does she have to do with this?"

  "I was looking over that new rifle you gave me. When I looked up, Ms. Moreau was in the cell crying. I let her out thinking Ms. Weiss had somehow escaped and trapped Ms. Moreau inside, but when I did…oh my God, she was vicious! I tried to stop her from getting into the armory, but she grew claws and…and…" He started to hyperventilate.

  "Easy, Drake," I said, placing a hand on his chest. "That was not Ms. Moreau that you let out of the cell."

  "Are you telling me she can turn into anyone?" George asked, looking at me.

  "Apparently," I said.

  "Well thanks for the bloody heads up!" he blurted.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't know. She seems stronger than the other demons I've encountered." More security personnel arrived, looking at their fallen comrade with concern.

  "Gentlemen, help Drake topside to the medical facilities," George said. "Come on, Michael, let's go see the damage caused by your lack of knowledge." Stung, I followed him up the stairs, trailed by Monique and the secretary of state.

  We came to the large double doors that
led outside, now standing open and revealing a scene from Hell. Chaos ruled the landscape. Smoke bellowed out of a large hole in the side of the castle, reminding me of the 9/11 Pentagon attack. Soldiers searched desperately through the rubble for survivors, recovering bits and pieces of flesh that would scar them for life. George hurried away to confer with the officer in charge.

  "Why did she do this?" Monique asked from my side.

  "Because her primary emotion, possibly her only emotion, is hatred," I responded.

  In the distance, I heard the sound of sirens approaching. George returned with the officer at his side.

  "Bad news," George said. "She blew right through the wall and into a room that members of the cabinet were meeting in. I think she knew what she was doing."

  "She did," I said. "What is it?" I asked the officer, who stared at me with a perplexed look on his face.

  "I'm sorry, sir, it's just that you asked for a pilot and helicopter just after the explosion. You said that you were going after the person responsible for this, and then you and the pilot left. How are you still here?"

  I looked at him incredulously for a moment and then asked, "I left on a helicopter?"

  "Yes, a few minutes ago," he replied.

  I searched the horizon, but the aircraft—most assuredly running low and at max speed—was nowhere in sight.

  "Shit! She got away by impersonating me!" I yelled. "Track it now! Find out where it's going!" The officer turned and ran towards the mobile command center parked nearby.

  "Michael," Monique said, stepping up from behind. "How much of our plan does she know?"

  "She knows that she's not out looking for potion so we can spend the next seventy years playing family."

  "So what you're saying," George said. "Is that if she talks to Samael, then we're fucked?"

  "Basically, yeah."

  The door to the command center trailer opened and the officer rushed back out. He ran to us, nearly tripping as he came to an abrupt stop. "The helicopter is heading directly for the English Channel!"

  "How far away is it?" I asked.

  "Almost forty kilometers. They're going fast."

  "Damn! That's out of my range." I had hoped to be able to intercept her. "Can we send a fighter after her?"

  "We could, sir, but I'm afraid they would encounter trouble."

  "Trouble?"

  "The American Navy has a very large battle group just offshore. That appears to be where she is heading," the officer informed us.

  "Yep," George said. "We're fucked."

  Chapter 36

  Huddled around a radar monitor in the command center, we watched as several blips left an American aircraft carrier and escorted Karen's helicopter back to the enormous ship. As the sun set, it seemed all we could do was wait for the repercussions. Feeling the sting of defeat, we made our way back to the now-violated sanctity of Chateau de Moreau, separating for the night to our respective quarters. George's jaw tensed as Monique and I headed for our suite. He loved her, of that, I was certain.

  Propped up on our large bed, a glass of blood on the nightstand next to it, I said, "I should have watched her myself."

  "You can't do everything," she consoled, lying next to me. "Drink your blood and get some rest so that you're ready for tomorrow."

  "I don't think it's going to work now. Samael will shoot the plane down, with all of you in it."

  "What other choice do we have? George knows the risks, and while it might not be pleasant, I would live. We have to get you into the States. Maybe she won't even contact Samael by then."

  "That's what I'm hoping."

  "There…with that hope, sweet dreams." She leaned over and kissed me softly, innocently, and then rolled away.

  "Sweet dreams," I said, reaching for the chilled glass of blood. I downed it, switched off the bedside lamp, and then tossed and turned for hours until a rapid knock at the door jarred Monique awake.

  "President Moreau! President Moreau! Wake up! We have an emergency!" a man yelled through the barrier.

  "Coming!" I said. I jumped up and pulled on clothes.

  "What do you think it is?" Monique asked, sleepy-eyed but fully alert.

  "Something to do with Karen, I'm sure." I opened the door and found the officer from the command post pacing nervously back and forth. He snapped to a halt and then surged towards me.

  "The Americans are about to attack!" he said, just short of yelling.

  "What?" I questioned the accuracy of my hearing.

  "Their planes, a lot of them, are heading this way!"

  "Damn!" I turned to Monique, still lying in bed covered by a sheet. "Get dressed and find George. There's a shelter here, right?" She nodded. "Get everyone to it." I turned around to follow the officer.

  "Michael," Monique said. I looked back. "Be careful." Our eyes locked.

  "I will. Please hurry to the shelter."

  The officer was already at the stairs, jogging at a brisk pace back to the command center. I hurried after him, avoiding soldiers running from door to door, evacuating the building.

  "Which direction are they coming from?" I asked as we bounded down the cascading staircase.

  "North, from the carrier, and we have more coming from England."

  "Jesus. Projected targets?"

  "The entire country is a target I would guess, including here."

  "Have we scrambled our fighters?" I asked.

  "Of course." We came to the foyer and stepped outside into the pitch-black of a moonless night. "I have ordered lights out to make a less visible target. Please follow me to the command center. We can discuss strategy better there."

  "You are in charge here," I said. "Do what you think is the best course of action. I am going to help our pilots in the air."

  I caught the confused look on the officer's face just before I launched into the sky, soaring high, hoping to catch a glimpse of the incoming aircraft. They weren't hard to spot with my enhanced night vision. Military fighter jets, dozens of them heading south, soared higher than I in the distance. I could also see the French jets rising below them, taking to the air to confront the Americans. It would be a bloodbath on both sides unless I could do something. I raced forward to enter the fray.

  When the American and French fighters converged, it reminded me of an ancient war my kind had, simply dubbed by humans as the War of the Gods. It was madness beyond all sense and reason. Humans truly had become near godlike, emulating our madness. Dozens of missiles raced past me, some I managed to knockdown. Huge titanium bullets whizzed by at speeds that were incredible, even to me. I couldn't deflect everything, but I tried. I tried, hoping I would not have to kill innocent pilots. Many times I failed, and watched grimly as the burning remnants of an F-18 or Dassault Rafale fell to the ground.

  I felt some encouragement when several American planes disengaged, turning back in the direction of the carrier. Like me, they suffered an extreme need for fuel. I floated high, looking east as the edge of the sun surfaced over the dark world below. I felt that the first battle had been a stalemate, but was happy we had at least held our own. Looking north again, my heart sank. High on the horizon, several large black wings flew, eerie in their silent grace. They were B-2 bombers, and their course took them directly to the castle and perhaps Paris beyond. Samael wanted a quick war, of that I was sure, no matter what the cost in human lives.

  I forced myself higher, feeling weakness overtake me. Even though I had been taking in fresh blood constantly as of late, the level of activity was too strenuous for the nourishment to last the entire battle. I looked at the nearest B-2 and was disheartened to see that I was sinking lower than it flew. With regret, I decided to drop out of the sky as fast as I could.

  I hit the ground hard, but still on my feet, in the middle of a small town square. Sleepy people on their way to bomb shelters pointed to the sky, yelling warnings with scared voices. Once they saw me land, I gained all of their attention. Many ran, but just as many stood in shock and stared. With
no time to lose, it was one of those frozen innocents that I chose to sacrifice in order to save the country. She was a beautiful middle-aged woman, and before she could blink, I was upon her, draining her. Seconds later, she was gone. I gently eased her to the sidewalk, and then sprang into the air, shattering the sound barrier several times over.

  I slammed into the B-2 bomber formation at full speed, slicing through the last aircraft in the group so fast that it continued to fly for several seconds with the pilots unaware there was a problem. Faster than their eyes and computers could track, I zigzagged, punching in and out of each death machine, working my way forward to the leader. I respected the pilots, and the loss of life saddened me, but I knew the weapons they would release could kill thousands if not millions.

  I reached the final craft, and stared in satisfaction as it plummeted to the ground. I also felt myself sinking lower in the sky once again, as I had burned out my fresh infusion of blood quickly. Satisfied that the country was safe for the moment, I looked forward to a gentle landing and a gentle feeding from someone who would not have to die today by my hand.

  As I glided down, three white streaks high over the ocean caught my attention. They had to be on the edge of space, but appeared to be arcing down in my direction. As they drew closer, in front of each white streak, my eyes discerned large missiles. They were coming so fast that I knew I couldn't feed again before they hit, so I floated, trying to hold some altitude to see if I could stop at least one or two.

  The first flew by in a fiery rage at what must have been ten times the speed of sound. Intense air waves bounced off me as I jumped for it, but I just managed to dent the tailfin with my hand. I watched helplessly as it continued onward. Another came, but it was several hundred yards away, and I was too slow to catch it. I tried for the last, but missed again.

  I sank lower in the sky, desperately searching my mind for ideas as my panic-filled eyes watched on in horror. The first submarine-launched Trident missile exploded in the air above downtown Paris, more than thirty miles away. A ferocious sun-like light rose from the ground, appearing as if the planet was giving birth to a brilliant light bulb. There was no sound and I wondered how so many deaths at once could be so silent. I watched as the Eiffel Tower, silhouetted by the burning light, leaned slowly over, and then it burst into a rainstorm of molten iron, disintegrating in less than a second. Another explosion, closer to home, broke my trance. It appeared to occur over the small town near Chateau de Moreau, where a mushroom cloud now rose majestically. I floated and watched, numb, unable to comprehend what I was seeing—unable to process the souls that the star-like explosion was taking away from me. The final Trident flew away to a distant target, perhaps Lyon or Marseille. I hovered above an alien planet ruined beyond recognition. Silence filled the air, yet there was an intense pressure as if the land below desperately wanted to scream.