The Perfect Sun

by Brendan Carroll

  “That’s certainly true.” Armand had to smile.

  “And Uriel’s grandson, Michael. You know him as well?” Lucifer asked him.

  “I am familiar with him. A fine man.”

  “One of the finest. And Uriel’s other sons, Luke and Luke. He must have been fond of the physician.”

  “Pardonne moi?” Armand was confused again.

  “Luke Matthew and Luke Andrew. Luke, the physician and Matthew, the tax collector. Andrew, the manly one and brother to Simon Peter. I believe your people called them apostles? I called them confused!” Lucifer laughed and closed the box and gave it back to Armand. “Never would I have enlisted such a hard-headed group as Emmanuel chose to do. Surely, he could have found more… enlightened followers?” Lucifer looked up innocently at Armand and locked eyes with him.

  “Certainly, you are deserving of the title ‘Deceiver’, no?” Armand said softly. “I believe Emmanuel’s mission on earth was to bring enlightenment to the masses. And, if I am not mistaken, you were charged with bringing light of your own accord at one time, no?”

  “Touche as they say in your corner of earth.” The angel laughed and inclined his head slightly.

  “Sir Luke Matthew is an exemplary Knight,” Armand continued. “The other is a bit young, I suppose. He has come a long way in redeeming himself or so I am told. The King thinks well of him. That is enough for me. Sir Ramsay, I mean… Uriel came here looking for them. Do you know where they are?”

  “I was with King Ramsay in the Abyss for a short time.” Lucifer looked up again as Michael and Polly walked in the front door of the keep. They were closely followed by Nicole, Lemarik and Omar.

  Armand stood quickly and readied himself for whatever reaction Omar might have at the sight of his old friend, General Schweikert.

  The General rose slowly from his seat at the table and stared, wide-eyed at the Prophet.

  Omar left his father’s side and walked slowly, as if sleep-walking, deeper into the great hall. He stopped very near Armand and looked down at Lucifer first. The angel returned his gaze for several seconds before rising to his feet with a feral, almost catlike movement portending trouble. Armand wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, but just then, Omar’s eyes settled on the general and Lucifer began to speak in a loud voice, redirecting his attention to Omar’s father.

  “O great and powerful Djinni, Sultan of the desert sands, mighty Lord of Vulcan! I bring glad tidings of great joy! Voyager of the deep blue seas!”

  Lemarik, taken aback at first, looked the angel up and down and then smiled broadly at him. He’d not seen him since the siege of New Babylon.

  “Lord Lucifer! Did you miss me?” The Djinni swayed forward and clasped the angel in a great hug. In the midst of their joy at seeing one another again, Omar began to speak.

  “Behold, a child shall spring forth from a virgin son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, ‘God with us’.”

  The general stumbled backwards from his former commander-in-chief and shook his head in disbelief. They had all lost their minds!

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Mark worked feverishly in the dim light of the oil lamp. They would need something very powerful to free themselves of their present predicament. Huber would not be easily put off. Why she had come after him in particular was indeed a mystery. He would have thought she might have gone after Omar or perhaps, even Ereshkigal or Edgard d’Brouchart for revenge. How she had come to the conclusion that it was Adar, the mighty Hunter, who had destroyed her plan to bring the world into chaos, he could not imagine. He sat on the stool, watching the bubbling yellow liquid accumulate in the flask. When there was enough, he would use the yellow to blast a hole through the web she had spun about the house.

  As he waited, his thoughts strayed back to his last days in New Babylon when he and Selwig had made their escape from the flood in a refrigerator. He’d never even laid eyes on her. Never even had a glimpse of her before the waters had come up from the depths, and he saw again the flood she had caused and felt briefly the untold grief that the healer’s death had caused him. It had been nothing less than a miracle, an Act of God, which had allowed him to bring the Tuathan back from the darkness. These thoughts led to others and the answer to the mystery began to shine with unexpected clarity. Huber had learned of his treachery from Schweikert and possibly from Selwig, himself. Abaddon had complained miserably that the queen mother had violated him mentally, spiritually and physically, but he had not allowed the dark angel to dwell on it. She had learned of the plan to get Selwig close to her, she had learned of the purpose and origin of the braided necklace. And when she had passed through the Abyss, she must have shed the braid somewhere in the Fifth Gate and thus, Nergal had become the host for a short time. Mark felt of the braid subconsciously, and then glanced over his shoulder at the stairs. Where was Luke?

  He slid from the stool and went to the rough set of stairs leading up to the kitchen. This lab was not nearly as nice as his lab in Lothian. There was no wine cellar, no skylight and no great oven in the corner. Just a quickly hollowed basement reinforced with field stone and timbers from the forest.

  “Luke!” He shouted up the stairs. “Where are you?” The air was stuffy, hot and humid. Moisture beaded on the walls, the stairs and his skin.

  When he received no response, his heart seemed to slow down in his chest and fear gripped him as the blood pumped loudly in his ears. They were supposed to be in the kitchen. Merry was going to make them some tea. Luke was watching the back while Mark watched the front.

  He grabbed his shirt from the stair rail and walked slowly up the stairs. When he opened the door, his heart froze completely. The kitchen was dark and quiet.

  “Merry?” He asked the empty air. “Luke?”

  He turned left and went toward the front of the house, drawing his sword as he went and dropping his shirt on the floor. In the foyer, he heard noises from upstairs, creaks and bumps as if someone were walking up there, but they had agreed to stay on the ground floor. The house was completely cocooned in the clear plasma, which had hardened into a sort of glaze made it impossible to open the doors or windows. If nothing else, they would soon run out of air and water and their prison would become a most miserable place, indeed, and Mark, the younger, would die.

  His first impulse was to return to the basement and grab the yellow before proceeding upstairs, but he could not blow up the house without knowing where his sons and Merry were.

  At the top of the stairs he could see the door to his old bedroom standing open.

  Inside the room, he found none of his own family. The queen mother herself was waiting for him. She was luxuriating in his bed, holding a cup of tea, smiling at him, perfect and whole, without the slightest sign of injury.

  “Ruth,” he said and nodded slightly, lowering the golden sword a bit. “How nice to see you again.”

  “Adar, Adar,” she set the tea on the bedside table and turned slightly on the pillows. “Please do come in and put away that pretty toy. We won’t be needing that.”

  She wore a dark red satin which rippled over her body when she moved and she moved in such a way as to deliberately show him her swollen belly. She was pregnant. The idea was the most repulsive he had ever experience. Even his stomach recoiled at the notion.

  “I wanted you to know what your plan had come to,” she smiled and patted the mattress beside her. “Won’t you come and lie with me? You and I are of the same blood. There should be no secrets between us.”

  “I am… looking for someone,” he said and glanced around the room for signs of his missing people. For all he knew, she might have eaten them. “Perhaps another time.”

  “No, there is no time, Adar.” She pushed herself up and placed her hands on both sides of her stomach. “The time is upon us, I’m afraid.”

  “What have you done with my sons?” He asked her point blank. Fear clamped his heart in a tightening grip.

 
“They are well and the woman, too.”

  “What do you want of me, Huber? I am no physician. I cannot help you.”

  “I need no help.” She laughed slightly and stood up. “I simply need a place to make a cradle for my children. A place where they can grow up safely. A place far from prying eyes and evil intentions. A place where they can feed until they are strong enough to go out into the world. This is a very nice place you have made here, Adar. Very nice. Better even than Omar’s great palace in Babylon.”

  “You don’t think I’m going to let you take my home without a fight, do you?” He asked and raised the sword again.

  “I am going to test your love rather than your strength, Adar.” She walked across the room and raised one of the windows. “Look here.” She pointed out the window. The cocoon was not evident here and the light seemed brighter. “I am going to give you one last opportunity to show honor and grace and love for your little ones. I don’t think you have it in you.”

  She moved across the room and he worked his way to the window sideways without letting her out of his sight. When he glanced out the window, he saw Luke Andrew, Mark and Merry in the drive in front of the house. They were encased in the same plasmic gunk that had fallen on him. They were moving, alive, but not in a good position.

  “What do you want?” He asked her again.

  “Throw the sword out the window, and I will release them,” she told him.

  “I don’t trust you,” he jerked his head and raised the sword over his shoulder. “Why not take your head, and then go down and release them myself?”

  “Look again, Adar,” she narrowed her eyes.

  When he chanced another glance out the window, he saw a creeping blue flame sliding across the drive, and he could hear the muffled screams of the trapped people below as the fire approached them.

  “You will not reach them in time,” she raised her chin slightly. “My children will need very little. You will suffice.”

  “You are going to feed me to your children?” He asked with some measure of incredulity.

  “Yes, you have the family blood. What better nourishment for my children?”

  Mark closed his eyes and almost fainted at the image she formed in his mind.

  “It will only take a little while and you’ll feel very little pain compared to what you have caused others, Adar. A suiting end to your little game. To feed the next generation of earth dwellers with your own blood. You should be honored.”

  He glanced out the window and saw the flame licking the feet of one of the captives. He could not tell which lump was who, but the louder shrieks indicated that the first to go would be Merry.

  With a great deal of effort, he tossed the sword through the window and watched as it fell into the slick coating below. The window slammed and then he slammed against it, beating on the glass futilely until the flames died out below.

  “You really should put more faith in your own kind, Adar.” Huber clucked her tongue. “I will allow you to see their escape so you may be comforted. Else your blood will be hot-natured and ill-suited nourishment for my brood.”

  As he watched, Luke Matthew struggled out of the confines of the stuff and then went for Merry, hacking the cocooning material away with his sword. Within a few moments, the three had freed themselves and were wandering around in front of the house, looking up at it in awe.

  “You may tell them goodbye,” Ruth moved closer to him, and he cringed away from her. He knew quite well that her human appearance was merely a very thinly veiled illusion now. “Tell them to go before I change my mind.”

  Mark went back to the window and pushed it up again with little effort; the gooey plasma broke into glistening strands that flapped in the open air.

  “Take Merry and go on to the Sixth Gate,” he shouted down to them. “Find Lord Marduk, if you can and he’ll help you. I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Why would Marduk help us?” Merry shouted up at him. She had no love for the Lord of the Fifth Gate. “Why can’t you help us?”

  “Lord Marduk has forty-four reasons to help you,” Mark shouted. “Just tell him I’m calling in the forty-fourth favor.”

  “We’ll wait!” Luke shouted up to him and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I dropped my sword!” Mark pointed to the hilt of the golden sword. It looked like a golden grave marker with the blade embedded halfway into the earth a few inches from the white stuff engulfing the house. “Take it with you now and go on. I’ll be right behind you. I have to make sure everything is all right here before I leave. Tell him what I said!”

  The Dove spoke to Luke quietly and then they turned to Merry, apparently discussing this proposition. Merry shook her head adamantly. She was not buying it.

  “I’ll bring your sword up to you before we go,” Luke shouted and then freed the sword from the ground. They were not fooled. Mark would never let them take his sword.

  “I don’t need it!” He shouted and waved his hands to them in desperation. “Just remind Marduk of the forty-fourth…”

  His words were cut off as the window almost slammed down on his head.

  “Wrap it up!” Huber was very close behind him. “Pardon the pun,” she added and laughed again. “I do so love this language of yours. It is such fun.”

  Mark stood perfectly still as one of her extra appendages wrapped around his waist and began to squeeze ever so slightly. He dared not look back, but raised the window again.

  “Now go before something else happens!” He smiled and waved to them. “I’ll be right along.”

  He lowered the window and turned to face her, expecting the worst, but the crab-like arm holding him came from behind her back. She still retained the form of Ruth Kadif except for this one vestige of her true form.

  “This way please, Adar.”

  She did not relinquish her hold on him and he was forced to walk very closely in front of her when she walked out of the room and down the hall. When she reached the last door on the left, she opened the door with a flourish and then pushed him inside. The room was almost completely full of the stiffening clear plasma that resembled spider webs as it hardened. There were thousands and thousands of small lumps in the filmy strands.

  “Your children?” He asked around the lump in his throat as he looked around at the unbelievable nightmare.

  “This room made a nice nursery,” she said. Mark felt the sharp edges of the pinchers cutting into his skin, forcing him to remain still or be split in half. More the pale, crab-like reached around him and began to draw in strands of the ‘web’ while she stood behind him, unmoving, as if the activity had nothing to do with her. His resolve broke when the first sticky filaments fell across his face and he began to struggle mightily against her, being much more willing to die quickly in her grasp than suffocate slowly while her ‘children’ fed on him for days or weeks or even years; but it was impossible. Another of the appendages wrapped around his neck and soon he was no longer of aware of what was happening to him.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Simon blinked stupidly at the sight of his lovely wife walking toward him down the length of the tiled porch. The bells on her ankles jingled and her numerous gold bracelets and earrings jingled with every step she took. Her white gown fluttered about her legs and her bare arms and the loose end of the swaddling cloth flapped behind her in the cool evening breeze.

  She smiled as she came nearer and then went down on one knee, bowing her head before him, causing him to frown.

  “Lydia!” He called to her. “Come and sit beside me. Show me what you have brought your king.”

  She obeyed his command and sat next to him on the scarlet silk and gold couch, laying the baby in her lap.

  “A boy,” she told him. “A perfect prince, my king.”

  Simon pulled back the soft white cloth and looked on the face of his twelfth son. He was dark pink with wisps of black hair. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Not yet circumcised. Only two days old. The baby cried wh
en the breeze brushed his face, startling him. Strong lungs. A fine boy. A fine son. Indeed, a worthy prince.

  “Jonathan David,” Simon touched the baby’s nose with one finger and it stopped crying. “My father would be pleased.”

  “Of course, he would,” Lydia agreed and wrapped the baby in the white cloth she held. She the child in his father’s lap. “And he should be proud. You have named the child after his father.”

  Simon frowned again as the baby squirmed in his lap, and then, it seemed the baby was much heavier than it should have been.

  “Lydia, I think it would be best if you take him inside.” Simon scooped up the child and turned to hand him over to his mother, but Lydia was gone and in her place was a hideous creature with eight spiny legs, a drooling mouth resembling a spider’s maw and two pairs of pale eyes on stalks, reflecting his face in a thousand lenses.

  Simon leapt to his feet and held the baby close, but the baby was sliding down his stomach. He tried to catch it but it seemed to break into a thousand pieces leaving the white cloth empty, flapping in his hands. When he dropped the cloth, he saw that his legs were covered with thousands of tiny, white spiders.

  He began to run across the porch, screaming for Lydia, screaming for his father, screaming for help… and then he was falling. He struck the water with great force and came up fighting and gasping for air. All around him were the sounds of his sons as they attempted to drag him from the pool. At last, he lay gasping on the side of the swimming pool, looking up into the worried faces of four of his sons and his wife. Behind her, he could see Barry of Sussex, Meredith and his father. Only a dream. Only a dream. Lydia was not even pregnant, yet he could still feel the spiders crawling on his skin as they helped him to his feet.

  “Come inside, son.” Edgard took charge of him. “I want to know what you dreamed. Every detail.”

  Simon toweled off his face and hair as he walked along behind his father. Meredith held Lydia and the others back when they tried to follow, insisting everything was alright, everything was going to be OK. They didn’t believe her, but one glace from Edgard d’Brouchart warned them away. Meredith sat down on the side of the pool and dipped her feet in the water, remembering a time when she and Mark had played in the pool. When Mark had been Grand Master and she had been his wife. Those had been the good times, though she had never realized it. It seemed she could hear his voice calling to her. She closed her eyes and listened with her heart.