4.2 - CHOSEN TO LEAD
Saturday, approaching late morning
Samael crouched near the old iron doors which concealed the vampire below. He had discovered his resting place days before and had stopped by occasionally to listen to the restless creature below shifting in his makeshift bed trying to entice sleep. He could feel the angst, the conflict, the debilitating sorrow.
Now, Samael knew he had to do something. The others were growing impatient and he could not blame them if the truth were told. But below his feet lay his son, his most cherished of children. Deluded yes, proving stubborn - beyond a doubt. Having been brought up in the hands of a woman who had ridden through life on her own guilt, it was no surprise that Cain had followed her beliefs.
Yet, he had hoped his seed would have realised the truth by now. Still, he trudged through the mire of guilt and grief, believing he could not cross a certain line. It was time to stir the waters, create a vortex of sorts. He needed Cain on his side.
He lowered himself to all fours and like a prowling feline, he moved over to the secreted entrance. His eyes flitted over the moss covered surface noting every tiny creature and bug which crawled within its soft mass.
He could hear Cain’s breathing; erratic, hitched, then a long drawn out silence before the cycle repeated. Samael sneered. His son did like his torment. “Are we visiting old times, Cain?” he whispered.
Below, the vampire stirred, agitated.
“Let go of your grief, it serves no purpose.”
An agonised moan rose from the cellar.
“If you truly wish to please the Heavenly Father, rise up!” The Fallen’s voice was sharp, caustic, demanding. Another flinch from below, a creak of wood, the scratch of restless limbs in the dirt. “Rise and do his bidding! Stop fighting the instinct which rages within. Carry out the cull he has demanded and recruit as you do so.”
A muffled protest replied.
Samael had been patient. He had occupied time which the talking monkeys considered just ancient history - eras long before their ancestry could even be linked; where near forgotten civilisations once graced the earth, practising both pagan and Christian beliefs; and further back still to when the longest reigning war began.
But, to the immortals, it was all but extended moments which had passed. Defined only by specific events; plagues and famine from time immemorial, the rise and fall of empires, mass devastation wrought from the bowels of earth itself to the horrors modern Man himself had inflicted on his own.
Granted, the fanatics, despots, world rulers whose agenda was ultimate control, rose to power through the influence of the Fallen. Each had been subjected to the whispers, the cajoling, the so-called guidance of advisers - each of them having once lived in the Heavens. The struggle, however, continued. They were limited. Governments had been overthrown, leaders assassinated; somehow the plans of the Fallen kept failing.
God did not care any more, he simply sat back and let his minions do the necessary with a snap of his fingers. It was all a game to Him and to add to His viewing pleasure the Fallen had been cursed to walk amongst his favoured pets.
Well, it was time to end the madness. God would be forced to see the error of His ways, this was no longer a time for His celestial court to govern. The talking monkeys would be devoured.
Throwing a little titbit for the blood-drinking avenger, Samael’s voice momentarily softened. “And you may as well start with the one who is plaguing your mind.”
A strangled ”No" sounded from the dusty depths.
“She will succumb easily and for a fleeting moment you will engage in something ′pure’, again.” Samael could not suppress the scorn in his tone. Silence once more. If the woman was not Cain’s Achilles heel then Samael knew exactly what would hit the mark.
“God needs an army and you are failing Him! How can you hope for redemption when you refuse to do what He demands of you?”
Again, Cain responded to the taunt. His groaning becoming a mournful lament across the moors. Samael could feel him surfacing from the depths of his slumber. “Do you honestly believe you are the only one of your kind? There are others, but they walk a tenuous line for they are not as strong as you. You were chosen to lead!”
The sounds which then rose from the cellar announced the vampire was awake. His breathing had altered, it was strained although controlled. Samael could hear the shifting of the body twisting in the dirt and then boots hitting the stone floor.
It was late morning now and Cain had been successfully manipulated into waking. Samael slunk back as footsteps came towards his vantage point. Before the doors were flung open, the leader of the Fallen had taken flight, his form melding with the rays of the sun.