EHYEH-ASHER-EHYEH (I AM THAT I AM): An Elena Duran/Corazon Negro
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@directvinternet.com)
Fri, 20 Sep 2002 10:08:05 -0400
Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh (I am that I am) 6/34
Julio Cesar divad72@prodigy.net.mx
Vi Moreau vmoreau@directvinternet.com
Jerusalem
March 26, 2013
The 'City of Peace', the legendary three times holy metropolis slept in
peace. But suddenly, a whirlwind opened in the desert streets as Lilitu
exited the Dream once more.
She opened her green eyes as a lonely dog barked at her. With just one move
of her hand, the canine dropped dead. She sniffed the air, and narrowed her
gaze. She had been to the Holy Land several times, and she could say with
reasonable certainly that it was not as sacred as most people thought.
As if in ironic response, the sky opened for a moment, above Lilitu, forming
the shape of a huge cross-outlined in yellow and white fluorescent lights
that cast a sickly glow over the city.
She smiled.
Once upon a time this place had been a curiosity for her, an inspirational
amusement park for the mortals. But that had been centuries ago, and now it
was only a hunting playground for her.
Lilitu stopped for a second and gazed at the sky, surprised that a mild
twinge of anger still roiled in her gut at the sight. She had long ago left
Christ behind-her powers had seen to that-but still, she found this petty
sacrilege irksome. She'd seen evil-to some, she was its very
personification-and this tribute to what some idiotic and false God thought
belittled what she'd seen and done. Her gaze turned black. "You won
nothing," she whispered to the sky. "You just bought them time, no more. And
now, I'm here, and their time is over."
Now it was time for business. God and His Son be damned-she had a mission.
She needed to kill Abd al-Malik, Franciscan friar Devaney and Rabbi Benjamin
bar-Joaquin, the leaders of the three religions gathered in Jerusalem.
First, the Muslim. With fast steps, she reached the Mosque in the center of
the old city, the one known as the Dome of the Rock, where millennia before
Abraham had almost sacrificed Isaac, the same place where Solomon had built
the first Temple and from where, according to tradition, Muhammad had
ascended toward the sky.
Lilitu grinned and continued her walk purposefully.
Inside the yard, she saw identifiable things that were scattered everywhere
on the ground. A less cautious hunter would have been betrayed by the
crunching of the omnipresent little rocks under her feet, but Lilitu had
taken certain precautions. She smiled again. Even if she hadn't known that
her prey was here, she would have guessed that he'd pick someplace like this
to go to hide.
She looked around. Nothing stirred outside the Temple. Lilitu pursed her
lips in an almost-frown, the light from the moon above her making her appear
almost jaundiced. She'd have to flush her enemies out. Oh, someone was
there. Of that she had no doubt. There was an Immortal's presence all
around.
Well, there was no time like the present to begin. Lilitu dropped to her
haunches and concentrated. The light from the moon, far from being the bane
her enemy would have expected, instead helped her. Shadows sprawled behind
every rock, and crawled out from each of the surviving displays of crumbling
piety.
It was very simple, really. The Immortal she was hunting was nowhere in the
light. He couldn't move, for fear of being spotted. That meant he was hiding
somewhere in the shadows. No matter how tough or learned he might be, it was
certain that the shadows would not hide him from Lilitu's attentions.
She closed her eyes and listened through the darkness. The sounds of the
Temple and the wind coiling between the displays faded. Instead, Lilitu's
world filled with darkness. She cast her consciousness about from one place
to another, seeking the faintest buzz, the slightest movement.
There, there, and over there. The three bastards were there, all doing their
very best not to be seen! It meant that they'd been expecting her and knew
who she was. She had an idea who had warned them, but it wouldn't help them,
and in fact, it would make her work simpler! She pulled back from the
shadows even as she sensed the three moving to the attack, and spun to meet
them.
There were already two blades in the air as Lilitu stood. She dodged to the
left, vaulting over the miracle of the shadows, and was rewarded by a pair
of muffled crunching sounds as the blades cut into the darkness. She could
see the three of them were here, with Franciscan friar Devaney and Abd
al-Malik leaping to the attack and Rabbi Benjamin bar-Joaquin hanging back.
He looked as if he couldn't tell whether to help his friends out or run, and
that indecision was exactly what she needed.
Lilitu smiled. As friar Devaney closed on her, arms bared, she simply
dropped to a knee and rammed her fist into his gut with enough force to
crumble a car door. Friar Devaney's scream abruptly transformed into a gasp
as she felt something in his entrails give, and he suddenly sat down hard
with a stunned look on his face. He tried to scramble to his feet, and
Lilitu lashed out with a kick that collapsed his cheekbone and eye socket.
He fell over with astonishing speed.
Farther back, Rabbi Benjamin bar-Joaquin seemed to have finally made up his
mind. He ran.
Abd al-Malik charged, and Lilitu shoved the body of friar Devaney by his
ankles un into the air toward her opponent as hard as she could. Lilitu
could lift cars if she put her mind to it, so the cadaver went flying toward
her assailant so fast that Abd al-Malik had no time to leap over it and out
of the way. Instead, he fell crashing to the ground as the dead weight of
his friend took his feet out from under him. The Muslim's jaw hit the hard
ground with an audible crack, and before he could scramble to his feet,
Lilitu brought her foot down on the back of his head.
Abd al-Malik's skull collapsed messily, as Lilitu's foot went through his
skull and nearly out the other side. She stared down at the corpse for a
long second, then shook her foot free and took off after Rabbi Benjamin
bar-Joaquin.
Lilitu concentrated and, under her breath, muttered a command. The tendril
of shadows shot out and covered Rabbi Benjamin bar-Joaquin. He was alone and
lost as if he were in the middle of the Sahara. Then, she strode
purposefully to where her prisoner waited. "A pleasure to see you again,
child."
Rabbi Benjamin bar-Joaquin spat. "Yahweh is going to punish you, Lilitu. I
know about your killings on Holy Ground."
"Spare the chit-chat. What are you doing in a Muslim holy place? I thought
you guys hated each other."
"We allied against you, as others have. The world has changed! You aren't as
omnipotent as you think you are."
"Really?" Lilitu made a great show of considering his opinion, even though
Rabbi Benjamin bar-Joaquin couldn't really turn his head far enough to see
her. "Well, as always, you religious men are mistaken. According to
tradition, Armageddon will start in this very place. I am here to fulfill
that prophecy!"
Moments later, the earthquake began as Jerusalem was engulfed by a sandstorm
that seemed to appear from nowhere, devastating everything in its way.
Lilitu smiled disappearing into the shadows of the Dream once more, as the
blue and green rays of the Quickenings of her three enemies killed on Holy
Ground destroyed all that had been standing, and obliterated the entire
city. The lightning rods spared nothing and nobody. In seconds, everything
disappeared.
========
Watcher's Headquarters
Vienna, Austria
March 26, 2013
Joe Dawson shifted in his wheelchair. It was so difficult to find a
comfortable way to sit. He returned a sheet of paper, a brief report noting
his suspicions about certain events. He had added a comment about the latest
assassinations to one of the stacks of books and folders on his overcrowded
desk.
He skimmed another report-the latest from Jerusalem-and then turned and
sighed in despair.
-Original Message-
From: Rick Evans
To: Joe Dawson
Subject: Unexplained
What the fuck! Most of the city of Jerusalem is gone! And I mean gone for
good! Under a huge sandstorm! Needless to say, the Franciscan friar Devaney,
Abd al-Malik and Rabbi Benjamin bar-Joaquin-the Immortal leaders of the
three major religions in the city-are dead! Inside Holy Ground! What the
hell is happening?
Rick Evans
-End of Message-
========
Moscow, Russia
March 26, 2013
The dark-suited man tapped at one of his cellular phones. It was the newest
model, sleek and wafer-thin with sophisticated programming options that
allowed him to perform any number of acts of amazing communications
wizardry.
His insistent tapping finally proved too much for the light object and it
sprung out of position. His brow furled even more deeply and his intense,
angry eyes bore upon the black device. He straightened it and with a few
deft moves realigned it with the other two cellular phones atop his massive,
antique red cherry desk.
He greatly preferred things to be strutted and dependable, but something was
definitely amiss.
His face relaxed a bit as he gazed swept over his office. The ivory
decorations on the desk were almost fluorescent in the darkness. The
perfectly polished and meticulously organized stands of oriental weapons
cast strange shadows on the tables to either side of the enormous leather
couch. Each end table held a set of matching katana and wakizashi, and the
pommels of all four weapons pointed toward the sofa. Above the divan, two
original Ottoman swords hung in frames painstakingly aligned at the height
of the huge Toledo broadsword that hung behind his main chair and between
the absolutely spotless windows that overlooked the Kremlin.
The man's black suit was pinstriped with blue, and though it was almost
dawn, his tie was still wrinkle-free and wound tightly about his neck.
Diamond-studded cuff links were positioned to be perfect mirror images of
one another, and fabulous rings of white gold and diamonds were bound around
each ring finger.
He was Vlad Tepes, the Eternal Dragon...
========
Wallachia
In what is today Transylvania (The land beyond the forest)
1459 C.E.
It had been the new Pope Pius II, who had first called for action against
the invading Turks, the force that had taken Constantinople. It had been the
same Pope who had noticed that for the leader of the aggressors, every
triumph against Christianity became merely the stepping-stone to another
region, and then another, until he cast down the gospel of the true God and
His son Jesus, and imposed the book of his false prophet Mohammed upon all
the world.
Even so, few nations had even sent delegates to Pius' great church council
in Mantua. The truth was that they were too embroiled in civil strife of
their own to launch a holy war against the Turks, nor would they have wished
to do so, in any event, unless the looting was assured.
But a warlord Prince took up the Pope's challenge as soon as he had dealt
with the threat from his rivals. The Voivode-Warlord-took seriously the oath
that both his stepfather and he had sworn as members of the Order of the
Dragon. He would lead the Pope's new crusade against the Infidel, and so,
Vlad's reign of terror would continue!
But suspecting his intentions, the Sultan Mehmed had sent three envoys to
attempt to dissuade Vlad.
"Greetings, Prince Vlad," the first Turk spoke once the committee was seated
in front of the great warlord inside his castle. "From your old friend and
rightful Lord, the Sultan Mehmed II."
Vlad looked at the men, his eyes narrowing a little as he placed himself on
his richly decorated throne. "I take it that your master wants me to come to
heel again?" the Voivode's voice flew over the immense chamber.
The envoy hesitated for a moment, blinking twice. "He-he would hardly put it
in such degrading terms, milord." The man made a pause, choosing his next
words carefully. "Yet, surely you recall that it was my Sultan's father who
first placed you on the throne of Wallachia."
Vlad's amused expression didn't change an iota. He was looking at the men as
a lion would see a
zebra.
The second envoy intervened. "Then there is the matter of the five hundred
Wallachian boys requested, for our Janissary corps, milord." The man waited
a moment, hoping to catch the Prince's attention. As Vlad showed no
response, he continued. "Your domain is some 30,000 ducats in arrears on its
tribute to Constantinople."
"Hold!" Vlad's commanding tone interrupted him.
"Milord?"
Vlad touched his moustache gently, caressing it. "I only just noticed a
lapse in your manners, my friends," he said as a sinister grin appeared on
his face. "You are in the presence of a Prince-yet your heads are covered,
as if I were some simple Turkish peasant." The Prince moved forward. "Pray,
doff your turbans. Do it for me."
The third man gasped uncomfortably. "I-I fear our practices are not as
yours, sire," he said swallowing hard. "We never remove our turbans, unless
ordered to do so by our Sultan. We are certain you understand and respect
our customs."
Vlad raised his hand, smiling openly this time. "Oh, indeed I do. I
recognize them, and I honor them." His gaze flew behind the three envoys.
Eight guards took the envoys from behind, immobilized them immediately.
"What is more, I shall help you keep them." the Voivode finished as a huge
eunuch entered the chamber, holding in one hand an ax, and in the other,
three sixteen-inches metal-stakes.
"M-milord," the first envoy pleaded. "For the love of God, no!"
Vlad laughed from his throne as the first man was forced to kneel before
him. "What is wrong, comrades? Do you waver in your respect for your
traditions?"
The man managed to pleaded once more. "Pl-please! My Prince-!"
Scratching his chin, Vlad raised an eyebrow. "I merely wish to strengthen
this most worthy of your customs, so that you need never remove your turbans
again."
The first man's head came off and was promptly impaled on the metal stake.
Blood spread all over the floor, making a tapestry of crimson colors in
front of the remaining two horrified envoys. As the body of their comrade
hit the ground, Vlad looked at them. "You're next."
========