BENE-HA-ELOHIM (THE CHILDREN OF GOD) An Elena Duran-Corazon Negro Story 3/15 by Julio Cesar divad72@prodigy.net.mx Paris March 20, 2013 "It's been a long time since we've shared a cup of coffee at a Paris cafe," Corazon Negro said emphatically, looking across the table at Curi-Rayen. He smiled. "It seems like an eternity." "Close enough," answered Elena, chuckling. She took a sip from her cup. Corazon Negro's was already empty. "Over thirty years. Our lives have changed dramatically since then." "You look as radiant as ever," said the Aztec. "Some women age well. You do so exquisitely. Of course, you have always been a beauty." "I have a certain reputation to maintain-I am Elena Duran," she commented, sounding slightly smug. "Although I'm woefully out of shape-four years in a convent will do that to anyone. I'm glad you're helping me regain my fighting abilities," she said. "I enjoy sparring with you," he said, smiling. She studied him. "I must say your eyes have remained consistent since the first time we met, almost five hundred years ago. Tall, dark and handsome, with a slightly sinister streak. Despite minor differences, I've never had any trouble recognizing your presence." Corazon Negro frowned. "Minor differences?" Elena watched him intensely with her only eye. "More mature." "So Methos told me before I went looking for you at the convent in Peru. I need to correct that. Being predictable is dangerous." They sat at a table for two on the front patio of the Cafe de la Paix. Across the street they could see the lights of the Paris Opera house. The night air was cool and crisp. At this hour, the outdoor patio of the cafe was packed with guests. It was springtime in Paris and love and death were in the air around them. They both had arrived at the cafe shortly after ten in the evening. Right now they wanted to talk privately, and Elena found that despite the other costumers in the cafe, their wishes were not to be denied. A fat bribe to the maitre d' ensured that they were seated without distractions. Elena and Corazon Negro had spent the past days detailing their adventures since they had gone their separate ways. Elena told of her several close encounters with the minions of Lilitu, of the death of her dear friend Maria Feliz, her hunting of Watchers, and her love for Duncan McLeod. Corazon Negro had spoken of his meeting with Zarach and the old Immortal's revelations concerning the monstrous creature known as Lilitu. Both knew they weren't telling each other everything, but also that nothing relevant was being kept secret. Elena and Corazon Negro loved each other, and they were together now. Nothing else mattered. "Even the new Dreamer can fall into a pattern of behavior," Elena said. She reached out and caressed Corazon Negro on the cheek. "In a way, I find that thought reassuring. It makes you seem more human." "You make me sound special," Corazon Negro replied smiling. Elena nodded. "You're special to me. We have known each other for a long time. We have been lovers, and friends. You shared with me your great love for life." Suddenly, her gaze turned sad. "Yet, for all of this, I have always known that there were secrets that you kept entirely to yourself. Of all the Immortals I've known, you always been the most enigmatic, the most mysterious in a way. But now that has changed." Corazon Negro laughed softly. "You dreamt about my past life, remember? It was not pleasant." He lowered his face. "I ask you forgiveness again, my love. Back then, we had different destinies to fulfill. My plea to you is the same as it was before. Be patient. At the proper time, all secrets will be revealed. And all your questions will be answered." Elena snorted in derision. "A wonderful stall for most girls, but not for me. You offer me an answer that is not an answer. At the proper time?" she repeated, mocking his words. "When will that be, my love? On our honeymoon?" She leaned forward, her eye glowing. "Listen, mi vida. Lilitu has demonstrated what one ancient Immortal can do. Consider the Ancient Gathering, as you call them. Working together, combining their powers, they could control both mortals and Immortals. Maybe each of them separately strives toward the same goal as Lilitu now. As allies, these Immortals could reign supreme over this world." "Perhaps," Corazon Negro said, his expression harsh and unyielding. "I have thought of that-but at what price? The destruction of our world? The death of thousands, even millions? Hell on earth, or worse? I know most of them personally, my love, and I know that's a risk they are not willing to take. They are not, nor will ever be, like Lilitu. The Dream would have warned me already." Elena pouted, wrinkling her nose in annoyance. "Maybe you're right. Perhaps I'm just being paranoid. We tend to see faults in everyone else but never in ourselves. I learned that in the convent." "If it's true with the two of us, my love," Corazon Negro said cheerfully, "then it should also hold for Lilitu. Her overconfidence will prove to be her undoing." "She may be overconfident," Elena said, "but with good reason. So far, any opposition to her plans consists primarily of remaining alive." "Our time is near," Corazon Negro said low. "Lilitu has tried desperately to eliminate us, separately and together, with good reason. Maybe together, you and I will destroy her." Elena opened her mouth to reply, thought about it, then closed it. A minute passed before she finally smiled. "Perhaps you are right. I hope so." But she did not sound convinced. "Anyway, what's next?" Corazon Negro nodded, a strange expression on his face. His voice sounded distant. "A private jet is waiting for us at the airport. We must leave Paris tonight. A friend of mine is waiting for us in the Ural Mountains." "A friend? Who?" "A member of the Ancient Gathering," Corazon Negro answered as he waved to the waitress. Elena stood silent for a moment, playing with her cup. "Remember Darius?" she asked finally. Corazon Negro looked at her intensely. "Always, my love. Always. He was a good friend. We could visit his chapel before we go, if you wish." "I'd love to," Elena declared. The waitress came with the bill, and he paid. As they stood to leave, she added, "Thank you." Corazon Negro grabbed her hand and kissed it. "For what, my love?" Elena sighed. "For looking for me; for coming for me in the convent. For being alive after all these years." "I love you, Curi-Rayen," Corazon Negro whispered closing his eyes. "Never forget that." "I won't," Elena declared sure of her words. "I never will again." ======== Great Desert of Australia March 20, 2013 In the desert, a few miles outside the city of Darwin, a woman's shape stirred in the moonlight. Lilitu, standing like a demon out of Hell, with blazing green eyes and red hair, was laughing. For a moment, she felt the world around her, sharing the age of sadness that had come upon the earth. It was beautiful. After thirteen millennia, humankind would tremble again hearing the sound of her name. Thousands of years before, she had sworn to destroy all Immortals, and she always fulfilled her vows. Now she had escaped her prison beneath the sands. She had locked herself in order to recover her strengths after she had killed Quetzalcohuatl within Holy Ground twenty-eight years before. Back then, she was too weak to continue with her task, just as it had happened in Pompeii, two thousand years ago. But now she was whole again, her power stronger than before. Free again, she thirsted for vengeance. She smiled, planning her first steps: tormenting Zarach and playing with that child called Methos. But there were the others yet. All of them would suffer before they died horribly. After all-there can be only one. Raising her head, she mentally searched for the minds of the Immortals who were now called the Ancient Gathering. A few seconds passed, and then she grunted with satisfaction. She watched Methos, sleeping in his home like the coward he was. Good. She bypassed him. She scanned Zarach, who was unaware that now she was free again. For a moment, she stayed there, watching her former son. Her eyes narrowed, and finally, she let him pass. Soon enough he would hear from her. Her mind flew away looking for the others. Then she felt them, dispersed all over the world. Aylon was focusing his rage inside his fortress of Alamut in Iran. Heru-sa-aset was still gathering strength and wisdom within the Ural Mountains. Myrddin was collecting his data hidden in England, and Naema was playing to be a sorceress in Africa. None of them were an easy prey, but they were unaware of her plans, anyway. Suddenly, her gaze narrowed, discovering a new event. The Dreamer, Corazon Negro, was together again with Elena Duran. So, the Mapuche whore wanted to get in the way of her plans again? Bethel hadn't been good enough? Perhaps it was good that Bethel hadn't finished her after all. Very well, Elena Duran would pay too, one more time. Soon enough, Zarach's message of danger would reach them all. Fear would be her greatest ally. Her mind focused then in her corporeal allies. She needed right now a little group to start her schemes. She knew that unlike the others, Myrddin was alone, working on his encyclopedia. She understood he was the only one who could discover the way she pretended to bring a new apocalypse all over the world. But if the Mage was just like he'd been one thousand years ago, he was unprotected. Still, he might be on Holy Ground; it was a place she couldn't see inside. Never mind, her thoughts quickly found the Immortals she needed for the job. Myrddin would be the first to die. And if they fail, well, there were the Watchers, as always, to fulfill her plans. Her enemies were close at hand. Now was the time for revenge. Purposefully she set for the near city. She had much work to do. ======== Prague March 20, 2013 The house on the hilltop was huge. Though it was well after midnight, with clouds hiding the moon and stars, the house was completely dark. That was the way Frederic liked it. The Immortal was sitting in a comfortable couch inside his living room. His eyes closed as he remembered the past. Though it had been almost hundred years ago since his experience in the First World War, the memories of those days were still crystal clear. It was there he'd become Immortal. A raw young Frenchmen recruited for trench warfare against the Germans, he had grown tough and hard of soul after two years of fighting the Boche. Frederic was a short, thin man with a pencil mustache and eyes that flickered from place to place, never resting. His adopted family had operated a smuggling ring in Marseilles. Frederic smiled, remembering his time during the war. Often, after a major offensive, he roamed the battlefield in the dark, checking the abandoned bodies for any signs of life. What he did with the few soldiers he found pretending to be slain was never discussed in public. But more than a few badly injured German soldiers had been discovered dead in the war zone from self-inflicted gunshot wounds, choosing suicide over a confrontation with Frederic. His notoriety brought him the attention of Louis Deacon, an officer in his regiment and also an Immortal. An idealistic disciple of the teachings of Karl Marx and a veteran of the Student Uprisings of the 18th century, Deacon dreamed of establishing a socialist republic in France after the war. Realizing that he needed followers, the plotter had killed Frederic for the first time. However, Deacon, more scholar than schemer, vastly underestimated the depravity of his new protege. He discovered his terrible mistake the night Frederic surprised him at an abandoned farmhouse in no-man's land. With horrified expression, Deacon listened as Frederic explained his plan. "I'm not interested in your plans for a social utopia, Monsieur Deacon," said the short man, his bright eyes glowing in the lamplight. "I care nothing for the common man or the rights of the working class. The only one who matters is myself. I'm going to take your Quickening, and thus raise my strength." He smiled at the appalled look in Deacon's eyes. Frederic took great pleasure in mentally torturing his victims-anticipation was a wonderful thing. "It will take years, decades perhaps, maybe even a century or two. But in the end, I plan to rule as the master of Europe. Perhaps even the world. Now, if you excuse, I'm going to kill you and be done with it." Frederic did exactly that. Now, nearly ten decades later, he was a wealthy man, playing still inside the Game. It was a dangerous game, but the rewards justified the risk. Suddenly, he sensed a very powerful presence. He reacted instinctively, grabbing his sword next to him. The security system of his house was one of the most expensive on the market, and he was sure nobody had entered his lair. However, he walked slowly in the darkness, his sword placed before him. He approached his bedroom. It was empty. But that was impossible; Frederic sensed the presence there. He paused, concentrated. Another Immortal was still there. Somewhere in the room. Growling in frustration, Frederic spoke. "Where are you?" "I am everywhere," answered him a female's voice, one colder than ice. "Shit," Frederic said. He stepped away from his bed and retreated to the wall. "Who are you?" A woman's shape shuffled out of the shadows. A creature of whites and reds, crimson colors kissed her face and chest. Tall and beautifully formed, she was naked. Her face was gorgeous, with a fresh essence. "I am known as 'Mother'. I have been looking for you." "Looking?" said Frederic, his fingers curling and uncurling into fists. "Why? What do you want with me?" Lilitu chuckled, an unnatural sound that made Frederic shiver. "I want to make you an offer." "Why should I listen to you?" "Good question," Lilitu answered. Her shape started to glow. Thin races of smoke rose from her green eyes. Rays of power flew from her upper body her arms, her legs. Her eyes glowed red. "Would you like to learn the answer?" "No thanks," Frederic said quickly. He could feel the power coming from the apparition in front him. It was unnatural. He knew instinctively that Lilitu was not really there, and that her manifestation in front of him was just his own perception of the real being behind the event. However, he understood too that to disagree with 'Mother' meant death. "What was that offer you mentioned?" "I thought you might see reason," Lilitu commented smiling. "Besides, the venture holds a certain appeal to one of your persuasion. I want a certain Immortal killed. He annoys me but I don't have the time or patient to track him down. Instead, I want you to do it. He is very powerful. You can have his potent Quickening as your regard. But this time, you will have some extra help." "Help?" "Yes. I will send you your new comrades. This foe of mine lives in England. His name is Myrddin, and he lives in catacombs of his own making beneath the town of Glastonbury. Holy Ground." "I get to keep his possessions?" asked the always-practical Frederic, avoiding the subject about Holy Ground. "Of course," Lilitu's shape answered him. "My only interest is that he is destroyed. Myrddin has lived beneath the town for a thousand years. I suspect he has numerous trinkets you would find quite valuable. Claim as many of them as you wish as part of your reward. I am a generous employer." "With such terms, I see no way I can refuse. We have a deal." He looked to Lilitu's apparition for a moment. Then, cautiously, he stated the obvious. "I assume that I really didn't have a choice in the matter." "Not," Lilitu said disappearing in the darkness. "Not if you ever expect to leave this room again." Frederic nodded. One instant after Lilitu was gone, the ring bell of the main door sounded and he felt the Immortal presence. He knew already who was knocking at his entrance.