The 731 Legacy (29 page)

Still reeling, her eyes stung and teared, her mouth and throat parched.

"No," she managed to whisper. "That was quite enough."

"Good, then let's get on with our business."

TEMPTATION

"Why did you come here?" the Old Man asked.

"You already know the answer." Cotten now stood in the darkness of the hotel room, still shaken from the blast of blinding light. Once it had faded, his form appeared like a shadow against the starlight flowing from the window.

"You must say the words."

"I'm here to consummate an agreement between us to save the life of John Tyler."

"More specific," he said. "What does our agreement entail?"

His voice was surprisingly benevolent and velvety. Perhaps he knew that it would be difficult for her if he was forceful. The serenity did make the words come easier.

"In return for sparing John's life, I will succumb to my heritage and accept my true identity, which was passed on to me by my father."

"What is your heritage—your legacy and identity? And as you tell me, be at peace with it. Surrender to it as you speak the truth."

Cotten hesitated knowing that there would be no turning back. She choked as a lump of fear seemed to close off her throat. "In my veins flows the blood of the Nephilim. I am, and always have been, the daughter of a Fallen Angel. My soul belongs to the Darkness, to you."

"Very good. See, this is not so difficult. And do you agree to those terms?"

Cotten's eyes locked on his. "No," she whispered and swallowed hard.

"Not yet."

The Old Man cocked his head and orange embers glowed behind his eyes.

"Why not? I have given my word, my promise. What is your hesitation?"

"I don't believe you have power over life and death. How am I to know for

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certain that you can save John's life?"

"Perhaps you are correct when you think of it in the traditional sense. But you make it too simplistic, too black and white. The power over life and death can take many forms. I do not need the kind of absolute authority for which you speak. My ego does not feast on supremacy. But I do have the powers of suggestion, persuasion, and temptation. With those powers I can halt, even reverse the ravaging attack of Black Needles on the human body and rid it of the disease. After all, I had a hand in creating it. However I accomplish it should not be your concern. The end result will be what you desire."

"How do I know you won't betray me?"

The Old Man moved against the background of the starlight and Cotten thought he became transparent.

"You, Daughter of Furmiel, are the centerpiece of my grand plan. Have you not figured that out? You are the last piece missing in my collection, the prodigal daughter finally come home. You will make our family complete."

He shifted again, and she was certain he was more mirage than solid form, like heat radiating off the desert highway. A wave of dizziness washed over Cotten, and she struggled for balance, concentrating on her task, looking past the Old Man and picturing John's deep blue eyes.

"I will need proof of life before I agree," she said. "I have to know that John is alive, that he is recovering."

"And how do I know that you will fulfill your end of the agreement?"

Cotten stiffened. Here was her stand, the chance she was going to have to take. "You don't."

"Then perhaps it is time that you see with new eyes so that you will not hesitate to consummate our contract."

Suddenly the room filled with a whirring roar, then a blustering hot wind and the crash of a violent thunderstorm.

Cotten stood naked atop a mountain. The gale blowing against her skin subsided to a warm and gentle breeze as if she were being wrapped in fur and satin, caressed by a million fingertips. She looked out over endless fields of gold and yellow flowers stretching from the base of the mountain to the horizon. Puffy clouds moved languidly across a sky so blue that it reminded her of tropical island waters. Birds soared among the clouds and butterflies darted from flower to flower. Total comfort, complete bliss, wanting nothing and needing only to enjoy the beauty and serenity of the scene.

"This place I will give to you, in all its perfectness, pleasure, and contentment," the Old Man said, standing beside her. "All your wants fulfilled, all desires come true, all needs satisfied, ecstasy beyond belief. Is that not the same as heaven?"

She said nothing and instantly found herself submerged in water. With no discomfort or panic, she breathed in the crystal clear liquid as it covered every inch, every pore, and every crevice of her body. Weightless, floating in a clear river of rapture, waves of pleasure undulated through her.

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A voice inside her head said, "Daughter of Furmiel, this can be yours whenever you want it."

The water cascaded over her, draining away. Cotten opened her eyes to find herself sitting in a vast room filled with mountains of gold and jewels, more than what could possibly fill all the vaults and treasuries of the world. She reached down and ran her hand through a mound of diamonds. They ran between her fingers like ice crystals, the brilliance of their facets sparkling more than the stars of the night sky.

"You will never be in need of anything. All that you've seen will be yours by accepting who you are. Just say that you agree, Daughter of Furmiel, and you will have everything I have shown you."

"It's not enough," Cotten said. "You know what I want."

"And you shall have it. I give you my word. The priest will live."

Suddenly Cotten was ripped from the vision back to the darkness of the hotel room. The gathering dawn silhouetted the Old Man's form against the window.

With a frail voice, she whispered, "I agree."

IN MY NAME

Cotten felt a part of her melting away as she stood in the dark hotel room. She couldn't pinpoint what was happening, but sensed a cavity open within, a cold empty space inside her that had not been there moments before. The instant she agreed to the contract with the Old Man, some part of her evaporated into the darkness. It wasn't that the sensation was unpleasant or even objectionable, just different. The only word she could think to describe what she felt washollow.

"So what happens now?" Cotten asked.

"Nothing." The Old Man's voice seemed to come from far away.

She wondered if he was still in the room with her or if he was speaking through her thoughts as he had during the strange visions.

Cotten slowly turned in a circle, searching for him. She wanted a clear image of this... this being to whom she had just given her soul. But he took no form that she could fix upon. "I still need proof of life," she said. "I have done what you asked. I want to be assured that you will do as you promised."

Almost imperceptibly, the voice whispered from behind her.

"Understandable."

Cotten spun in the direction of the voice. "What do I do next?" she asked.

There was no reply.

For an instant the air in the room turned icy as if a window opened and allowed in a winter draft. She glanced toward the windowpane and found it still closed. Just as quickly as it had come, the chill dissipated.

Cotten looked out through the glass, laying her palms on the pane. The

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pale golden blush of daybreak brought the first tracings of the city below.

After a few moments, she returned to the bed and slid beneath the covers staring at the shadows on the ceiling, wondering how she would live her life now that she—

She what? she thought. Nothing magical had stricken her when she said yes to the Old Man. Nothing seemed different other than that feeling of hollowness, but perhaps that was only the relief of knowing her mission was complete. Hadn't the Old Man realized before that it would not be the promise of riches that would influence her decision? The reason she had made the journey to Korea was to save John's life, and that was beyond any other promise he could possibly make.

So what was this all about, this going into the Darkness? It wasn't what she anticipated, what she feared it might be. As a matter of fact, it felt good knowing she had the power to save the only man she had ever really loved... other than her father. She drifted off to sleep feeling a great contentment.

But the contentment was quickly interrupted. Her dreams spiraled around her in short and terrifying vignettes.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling through a black tunnel.

Demons' faces flashed and disappeared. Echoes of hideous laughter, screams of terror. Flares of unspeakable acts of murder and torture that satisfied some incommunicable hunger in her— shocking splashes of aberrant sexual acts and bestiality that unexpectedly excited her.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Suddenly a blinding light snatched her up out of the tunnel until she ascended to wakefulness. She squinted into the bright sunlight that poured through the window.

"Bad dreams?" The voice came from near the window.

Cotten sat up, clutching the bed linens.

"Did I startle you?" the Old Man said, sitting in a chair by the window.

The glare of the sun made it hard for Cotten to look at him. She shaded her eyes with one hand and squinted. "I didn't expect to wake up and have someone in my room. Have I given up my privacy as well as my soul?"

He chuckled. "No. I was worried about you. So I stayed while you slept, to make sure you were all right. Your sleep did not seem restful. You tossed and even cried out once. But you see, nothing terrible has happened to you. You are safe."

The dreams flooded back in a series of quick bursts, mental explosions of still images. Cotten pressed two fingers to the space between her eyebrows. "My dreams were nightmarish. Demons and—"

"But as you see, they were only dreams. Just products of your

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imagination. Unfortunately, that is the result of the misinformation passed down through millennia. You have been programmed to expect what was in your dreams. It is what all mankind has been led to believe. God and His churches have essentially brainwashed generation after generation. And why? Because they fear you will see the light, the truth."

Cotten pushed up against the headboard, still trying to clearly see the Old Man's face. As in the night before, he appeared slightly luminescent and transparent.

He finally shifted so that half his face was visible, the other half still obscured by the glare. It was creased with age, his skin pale, and his ashen hair was neatly parted to the side. As was often said of older men who had a pleasing appearance, he was distinguished looking—an elderly Cary Grantish-type countenance.

"Did you expect red horns? A pointed tail and pitchfork?" He laughed.

"I don't know what I expected. Maybe."

"And a ritual with goat's blood and a pentagram." He leaned into the glare. "I let my legions play that game for their amusement. To be honest, I think it is so cliché."

"I suppose." Cotten found herself smiling, becoming more at ease.

"Do you realize that I am the one who single-handedly keeps God's churches, temples, and mosques in business? I am the best friend the religions of the world have. Without fear of me, they would collapse. Even though their notion of me is false. You see, I come to this world only by invitation—the proverbial Eve and the apple story. All that Eve and her children wanted was knowledge, then and now. Does that make someone evil? I think not."

"What kind of knowledge?"

"Simple truths. God wants you to be self-sacrificing, to believe it is better to give than to receive, to love your enemy, to turn the other cheek, to always be begging for Him to save you from despair. It pleases Him to always have you on your knees. In this way you remain subservient. I speak the truth. There is nothing evil about being productive, finding happiness, achieving success. Why should you not be self-loving and seek those things that bring you happiness?

There is no need for groveling or believing yourself unworthy to eat the crumbs that fall from my table. That is how God wants you to be—helpless without him. I say be strong. Be efficient. Explore all the pleasures in life. Why spend a lifetime of self-imposed isolation from pure joy, depending on God for even the smallest fleck of happiness? That makes no sense." Again he revealed a portion of his face. "Even after all this time it remains astounding to me that mankind accepts such rubbish and continues to prefer self-inflicted suffering."

So this was all it meant? Cotten thought. Her heritage was simply the permission to allow herself to be happy? That didn't seem so frightful or evil.

"I do not expect you to accept all this instantly. You have spent a lifetime being programmed by God's religions. You do not even have to go to church for this to happen. It permeates and infiltrates your life every day. I realize it is a

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tremendous paradigm shift in your thinking."

"Yes, it is."

"Hear what is right and what is truth. It wasyour loving, forgiving Jehovah who sent his Angel of Death to murder all the innocent firstborns of Egypt on the night known as Passover. The wrath of a vengeful, spiteful, hateful God. That was done by your God's hand. Not mine. And let me leave you with something else to contemplate. Think of how many thousands have suffered and died in wars, all fought in the name of God. Never has there been a war fought in my name."

OUTBREAK

"And in medical news," the SNN Headline News anchor said, "county health officials in Denver have reported over a dozen cases of extreme flu-like symptoms showing up in the emergency rooms of three major area hospitals. Those stricken with the yet-unidentified illness are complaining of high fever, vomiting, diarrhea, and some bleeding. Doctors are applying the usual antiviral drugs including neuraminidase inhibitors, but are reporting no success with the treatment so far. The mysterious outbreak has claimed the life of a five-year-old girl in Aurora, Colorado, and local health departments are investigating."

***

The roll-in voiceover said, "From Satellite News Network in New York, this is the Evening News with Charles Ross."