by A D Seeley
“All the deaths, though…that’s what made me ill. I once staked a servant boy for getting sick from the stench of rotting corpses. He gagged from the smell of clotting blood and decaying flesh as he poured my wine so I impaled him, higher than the other people so he would be above the stench that offended him so. That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about when I say that I did horrible things. I had people so scared that they feared committing any wrong.”
He paused for a moment to think of an example he could tell Tracker to make his point.
“Once,” he said once he’d thought of one, “despite the fact that people were so afraid to steal that I could put a gold chalice in the square for years and it wouldn’t be stolen—literally, because I did do that—a foreign merchant was robbed while in Wallachia. He reported it to me and I ordered his money found. When we found it, I added one extra piece to his bag to test him. He counted it once away from my sight, like anyone would, and upon finding it, he brought it back. If he hadn’t, I would have impaled him next to the thief who had stolen from him in the first place. And those are just two of the less horrible things I did….”
Shaking his head, as though it would rid himself of that life, he said, “But now I go through life, pretending to be Inac, the perfect boyfriend. I guess I’ve just lost my identity. Something about this character I’m playing is getting to me on a real level.”
“Maybe you’re becoming the character you’re playing.”
Inac wanted to laugh his butt off, but Tracker was so serious. He was looking intently at Inac, as though trying to figure something out.
“Look,” Inac said, leaning forward so Tracker would know how serious he was. His elbows on his knees and his hands grasped together in front of him, he added, “I’m the last person on this planet that anybody could accuse of being kind and virtuous. Do you know how many people I’ve killed, or have had killed in my life?”
Tracker shook his head.
“It’s said that the world has had around one hundred billion people walk on her since her beginning, and that six percent of the Earth’s total population from the dawn of time is alive today. That six percent, or roughly seven billion, is a fairly low percentage compared to how many people I’ve been responsible for killing, whether by my hand or another’s.”
Tracker swallowed. Now he looked ill.
“But that was all war, though, wasn’t it?” he asked.
Inac couldn’t help the look he shot back at the kid. Since when was Tracker trying to see him as a good person? Man, they were both acting out of character tonight. That was especially evidenced in the fact that, for some reason, Inac felt like being honest with him. Maybe because Tracker already knew all of the stories about “Cain.” And in knowing them, he’d already judged him as harshly as possible, so there were really no more judgments to be made….
“Mostly,” he finally said. “All have been because of my personal war, though.”
“Like Hara’s family?”
“Yeah. Like them.”
“Why did you kill them?”
“I didn’t personally kill them, which is where I made my mistake,” he said, gripping his hands so tight they turned white in the firelight. “If I had, I would have known that the little girl wasn’t Hara. I only saw pictures of the child, and she was covered in blood from her many stab wounds, so she looked like her.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Inac let a breath out from between his teeth. “To make a point.”
“A point to who? The Order?”
Now Inac allowed himself a small chuckle. “The Order is of little importance to me. I think of Them merely as an annoyance. They’re like a fruit fly buzzing around my head.”
“Don’t you mean a house fly?”
“No. I mean a fruit fly. That’s how minuscule I consider The Order to be.”
“But it’s been around forever. It’s not that small anymore.”
“It was started in the early 1400s. You didn’t know that it was originally called The Order of the Dragon?”
Tracker’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The thing Vlad the Impaler, I mean you, belonged to?”
“Although I used Their insignia and pretended to be part of his ‘holy war’ to get money from the pope, I never belonged to Them. The original Vlad Draculea, yes. But me, no. Although the pope somehow didn’t know who I really was, They figured it out after Vlad died. That’s when they dropped the dragon part. They wanted to distance Themselves from me.”
“And They’ve been fighting you ever since?”
“If you can call it a fight. The only thing They’ve ever really done to me was take Hara.”
“But that’s a big deal. That’s 500 years of your planning that They ruined!”
Inac grabbed a stick and poked at the fire, letting it blaze up as he answered, “Just put off. I have Hara now.”
Tracker gulped and looked down at his hands. Meekly, he asked, “Are you still gonna kill her?”
Without hesitation, Inac replied, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I just…I just thought….”
“Thought what?”
“That maybe since you feel guilty….”
Inac realized that he had perhaps been a little too honest. Tracker was starting to see him as a human being…which would either help him, or harm him. It could make him ease up on protecting Hara so that Inac could have the privacy to corrupt her, or…or it could make Inac lose face with The Order. And fear was his best weapon against Them.
“Let’s put it this way,” he said, being careful with his words. “I don’t feel guilty for killing anyone. It was necessary. In fact, it was necessary to torture them because then my decent and honest subjects didn’t become victims themselves.”
“Then why did you puke?” Tracker asked, his voice becoming shrill because of how worked up he was getting.
“Because even necessary things aren’t always things we’re proud of.”
“And Hara? Will you be proud of killing her?”
He winced for a moment. “Her death is, unfortunately, a necessity. But don’t worry; I promise you it will be quick. She won’t suffer.”
“So that’s supposed to make it all better? You kill my best friend but it’s okay because you’ll make sure she doesn’t suffer?!” he hissed. At least it was in a whisper so the other three campers wouldn’t be woken up. This was a conversation that couldn’t be overheard….
“Everybody dies, Tracker. Besides, it’s not personal. It’s war.”
“Against who? You still haven’t answered that.”
Staring at Tracker across the firelight, Inac said, “Isn’t it obvious? My war is with God.”
“But why?”
“Reasons I don’t feel like going into with you.”
“As I see it, you got a good deal. Nothing to be angry about.”
“What? Because I can’t die?”
“Um, yeah. Anyone would kill for immortality!”
“And I did just that,” Inac reminded him.
“Oh yeah….” Tracker looked nervous again.
“But it’s not all peaches and cream. I still feel everything. I just won’t die from it. Even if my body was drained of blood, I’d live. Trust me; I know that firsthand.”
“Really?” Tracker asked, relaxing. When Inac nodded, he said, “Dude, that sucks.”
“Tell me about it. There was a time before I lost my humanity where that was difficult for me. I just wanted to die. But God wouldn’t let me,” he said, clenching his jaw in anger. “I tried so many ways, and do you know where His mercy was?”
Tracker shook his head.
“Nowhere. That’s what you mortals don’t realize. He doesn’t listen to you. He doesn’t care about you. It helps make you feel better to believe that He does, but you’re just lying to yourselves. I’ve lived long enough to know better.”
Tracker was silent for quite a while. “What made you lose your humanity?”
&n
bsp; Considering whether he should tell Tracker or not, Inac sat, staring at the licking flames as he played with the stud in his tongue. He’d had it for so long that he barely even realized he was doing so.
“The last time I tried to kill myself, I jumped off a cliff into the ocean,” he said, a bit sad, a bit angry. “I felt myself collide with the rocks, shattering all my bones. I couldn’t breathe, and the water around me was pure red from my blood. I lost consciousness, almost praying that it would work. But it didn’t.
“I remember waking up, still on the ocean floor because I was trapped under rocks—a landslide or something must have occurred while I’d been unconscious. I was in excruciating pain, and I was drowning, but I wouldn’t die. I just kept drowning.
“I lost count of the days and nights I was stuck there,” he said, gaining momentum. “You see, because of my injuries, I wasn’t strong enough to get myself out from under the rocks. Eventually my bones healed, but many of them had healed incorrectly. As I lay there, forever drowning, I had to re-break most of them. Now, on top of all of that, I also felt constant thirst and hunger. Can you imagine feeling all of that for months, maybe even years, without dying?”
Tracker’s eyes were wide with horror. “That would be the worst kind of torture.”
“Yes. A lot worse than anything I ever did to anyone because at least their suffering had an end. If God can do that and have it not be morally wrong, then nothing I’ve ever done could be considered wrong either.”
Tracker gulped and said, “I can understand why you would become angry.”
“More than that. I’ll admit that I lost my sanity on that ocean floor. When I finally escaped, I loathed God. I wanted to do anything I could to hurt Him. He had no mercy for me, so I would have none for His children.
“At first I was something closer to an angry animal. There were many years in which I did unspeakable things. But eventually I regained some of my sanity and began resembling a human again. I was no longer the demon in the dark preying on humans. Soon after that, I decided that I would make God sorry by owning His world. That was when I created the Mokolios. I’ll admit, I was never quite sane again. That ocean floor broke a lot more than my bones…. Right now, I’m the sanest I’ve been since that experience, which is probably why some of those things in my past are getting to me.”
His demeanor suddenly brightened, the direct opposite of Tracker’s fallen visage. “But I have a purpose again. You don’t know how long I’ve felt lost. I’ve pretty much conquered the world and was in a ‘Now what?’ situation. But then Hara was delivered to me.”
“So killing her is your ‘purpose’?” Tracker asked, angry again.
“Yes. She’s revitalized me. But I’m not just going to kill her,” he said, aware that his eyes were probably shining with psychotic passion. “Don’t you see, Tracker? Her death is the perfect act for my revenge against God. He has given me nothing but misery, so I’ll take His ‘Chosen One’ and make her belong to me.”
Tracker scoffed. “And you say you’re sane now?”
“No. I said that I’m the sanest I’ve been since becoming immortal. I never said that I wasn’t still crazy,” he said with a smile. “Maybe if you guys had kept her hidden away, things would be different. But, as I see it, of all the places I could be…and to find her. It’s obviously her fate. You should have made her join the nunnery. I never would have found her there,” he added with a chuckle, which Tracker responded to with a small one of his own despite their topic.
“She actually thought about doing exactly that at one time, and she still pretty much planned to after finishing school. Everyone encouraged her to do it, too. I didn’t know about the prophecy yet so I thought they were all nuts. She’s too pretty to not pass on her genes.”
“And I bet you wanted her to do so with you?”
Tracker smiled, though this time it was sad. “I still want that.”
“Why haven’t you ever told her how you feel?”
“And have her laugh at me?”
“She wouldn’t laugh. At least not once she realized that you were serious.”
“Yeah. Then she’d just pity me,” he said, downcast.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes people don’t realize their own feelings until they’re forced to search them.”
“But now she’s in love with you.”
Inac shrugged. “I made a move. If you don’t take big risks, then you’ll never get big rewards.”
“But what would it matter now? I could never compete with you.”
“You know what she likes about me?”
“Yeah. She talks about it all the time. She’s crazy attracted to you ’cause you’re ‘so hot,’” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Inac grinned. He couldn’t deny his good looks. “Besides that.”
“Because you say and do all the right things?”
“Besides that.”
“Then no, why is she in love with you?” he asked, his tone showing that he was annoyed as much as his face was screaming that.
“Because, before me, her life was hum-drum. It was the same old every day. Since I’ve come into her life, she’s tried a lot of new things. For the first time, she doesn’t feel like she’s sleepwalking through life. I make her feel alive.”
“Ironic seeing as how you’ll also make her dead.”
Inac couldn’t help but heartily laugh at that. “Who knew you were such a wit?” he said.
Tracker joined in until they were laughing at each other over the fire. With anybody but Inac, this would be a bonding experience. But Inac didn’t have “friends.”
Once the laughter had died to an occasional chuckle, Inac said, “Well, we should probably get back to bed. The sun will be up soon and we have a long day of hiking ahead of us.”
Tracker groaned before saying, “Can I just ask you one more question?”
Shrugging, Inac said, “Sure. I’m in a hospitable mood.”
“God. Who is He?”
“As in, which religion is correct?” Inac asked, wanting to know whether or not that was the real question.
“Yeah.”
Inac thought for a moment before he answered, his tone becoming formal, as though reciting it even though this was the first time he’d ever said such words—maybe it was after-effects from the dream about his life in the fifteenth century. “Just as I rule each country differently according to their culture, so has God sent different prophets to say the things that a certain culture would understand and believe. That’s why each people has their own God and/or Goddess and prophets, whether it be Krishna or Guru Nanak Dev, Buddha or Muhammad, Zeus or Tabaldak, Moses or Jesus Christ, they all circle back to the one and only true God. Just as each weren’t given the entirety of God’s true gospel, they were all given pieces. Men then filled in the missing pieces on their own with what they wanted it to say to validate their actions. That being said, they are all right, and they are all wrong. But, despite the way they war with each other over who’s correct, they’re warring under the name of the same god. That’s what always bothered me about the Crusades, though I did fight against Christianity in the Third Crusade in my life as Saladin, which was why they lost. The Christians, I mean, obviously….”
“Was Jesus really God’s son?”
Inac shrugged. “That, I don’t know. I do know that he was an incredible man. I’ve been lucky enough to meet most every prophet or ‘god’ who has ever lived, and they have all had a purpose for being here. And, with the exception of the few members of the Egyptian royalty who just wanted to proclaim themselves as gods so the people would listen to them, most have all been men or women that I believed God would talk to. But remember, I haven’t spoken to God since He cursed me, so I’m not the expert on Him that you believe me to be.”
Tracker nodded a few times and, a few minutes later, he said, “I’m glad we had this talk. Maybe you’re not so different after all. You’re just a product of your situation. Anybody would go nuts
after living through the torture you’ve been through.”
Inac let his eyes become threatening, the full power of his hate overtaking them. “If you ever tell anyone…. Let’s just say that you’ll learn firsthand about the Old Manner….”
He wanted to scare Tracker, and that he did. The kid looked like he was going to wet his pants. His breaths were even coming in shallow gasps.
“I…I won’t.”
As quick as he’d let his expression darken, Inac pulled the hate back out. Now, with eyes full of sunlight, he said, “Good.”
After Inac doused the fire, they walked toward the tent, Tracker still seeming somewhat scared from his threat. Maybe he shouldn’t have let his eyes be completely taken over by the menace he always felt but usually kept in check. He’d just wanted the kid to know how serious he was.
Giving Tracker another smile, he said, “Night.”
Tracker nodded, pale as a ghost in the dark.
“Tracker, calm down. That will only happen if you deserve it, so just make sure that you don’t,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. He couldn’t have this kid acting scared to death of him tomorrow or Hara would pick up on it.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul,” Tracker replied with wide eyes.
With a large grin he said, “Good. Well, if you don’t mind, I have a beauty over there who appears to be a little cold, so I’ll see you in the A.M.”
He then slipped back into the bag, pulling a faintly shivering Hara into his arms. He felt bad that he’d been sitting by a warm fire while she’d been in here needing his body heat with the miniscule tank top and girl’s boxers she was wearing.
After adjusting her tank top because she was almost falling out of it, he lightly kissed the crown of her head. He didn’t know what was with him tonight. First with the dream, then with telling Tracker all that personal stuff he’d never before told another person. And now he was making sure that he didn’t take advantage of the situation where he could have seen one of her breasts, as well as kissing her when she wasn’t awake for it to give him brownie points and make him look all sweet and perfect? He didn’t need to act when she was in dreamland….
