Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, which will include t/t and m/m relationships, and probably some sex too. If it is illegal in your area to read this, or if you are not old enough to read this (you know who you are), stop here. Otherwise, please enjoy.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a companion story to "A Light in the Darkness." The story lines are related and the characters occasionally interact, and the frequency of this will be increasing. My sincerest thanks go out to Tarton who kindly edited this chapter. And thanks to everyone for writing such encouraging emails.
I am now posting my stories to a Yahoo!Group, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jaygordon_1981/ as well. I'm putting them up there a little in advance so I can make final edits before submitting to Nifty, so if you are interested, you can check it out. It's closed membership to avoid spam and flames, so just let me know!
Things That Go Bump, Chapter 22
"Open War"
After Chase and William departed, the group fell silent. "They're so young," Americ said softly.
"Perhaps," Sebastian said with a smile and took a sip of wine.
"Can we pin all our hopes on youth," Musa spurred.
"No, not all our hopes," Sebastian replied, "but our best hopes.... Youth is relative, as has recently been pointed out to me by an angel.... Compared to me, you are all infants, despite appearances, which as we all know can be deceiving...."
"What is our next move," Avery asked.
"We need to figure out where Sammael's operating from and attack, strike quickly and boldly, destroy as much of his infrastructure as possible, maybe even kill one of the old ones he's collected...."
"How would we manage that," Christen asked.
Sebastian smiled. "Good old fashioned human ingenuity. A bomb, a big bomb...."
They discussed strategy late into the night, before returning to their posts with reluctant goodbyes. They all had the faintest feeling like it might be the last time they'd all be able to be together. Only time could prove that feeling wrong, as they hoped it would.
Peter stood in a small but comfortable room in the arctic base. He could lie down, but he felt full of nervous energy, and jumped when a voice startled him.
"Do you have everything you need," Sammael asked him from the door.
"Yes.... I'm afraid I just don't know what to do with myself now...."
"I could help with that," Sammael said, putting a hand softly on the boy's neck, "but I think that you'd not be comfortable with.... Oh, well...."
"Is there ... some work you need done?"
Sammael considered him carefully. "I already owe you a debt," he paused, "and I'm still not sure I trust you completely...."
"I've thrown away everything for you.... What more could you possibly want from me?"
Sammael smiled. "Just one more thing," he said, softly. "Just one more thing."
Sammael sat him down on the bed and sat next to him, explaining what he wanted. "I'm not sure I can do it...."
"I think you can, but, if you can't, I can't trust you," Sammael responded with a note of finality. Peter nodded. Given that he had committed himself to a course of universal destruction, it seemed a small price to pay, at that moment.
"So when will you do it," Peter asked, almost timidly.
"Do what?" Sammael asked, almost coyly.
"Whatever it was you wanted the fangs for...."
"You don't know? How precious," Sammael laughed, clapping slowly. "The fangs belong to an ancient vampire worshipped in the ancient world, Resheph.... Besides being a tremendously destructive and bloodthirsty monster, he's also Sebastian's sire.... Sebastian killed him many hundreds of years ago.... And boy is Resheph going to be angry...." Peter blanched at the new knowledge of the suffering he was unleashing on James and Sebastian, but knew that he'd have to see people he really did care about get hurt if he was going to succeed. But in the end, all the pain would end. "But the answer is soon.... As soon as I can gather enough power...."
"Gather? I thought you could...."
Sammael put a gentle hand on the back of the boy's head. "I was once the most powerful angel in heaven, my boy.... And so beautiful...." Peter looked shyly at the angel and blushed bright red. Sammael smiled and ruffled his hair. "Too true," Sammael laughed. "But then.... Ah, my fallen form.... Had you seen me then, you would have fallen to your knees in tears at the beauty...."
"I'm sorry," Peter whispered.
"Dear, dear. Why in the world?"
"You must have suffered!"
"Peter, Peter!" He smiled but he paused. "I suppose I did, but it crystallized into rage and hatred.... I longed for nothing but to throw all that power back in his pathetic face!" Peter shivered at the waves of feeling he felt flowing forth from the eternal entity, but Sammael simply squeezed him across the shoulder and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "You are different, boy, from most of the mortal creatures I've ever encountered. And your form is not ... displeasing," he said, letting his gaze linger as he stood. "I could make you," he said over his shoulder, "I could, but I won't...." With that, he was gone, and Peter was more confused than before.
Wednesday, Sebastian paced around his little war room with the Colonel and conferenced with his top advisors, making a string of calls he had hoped to avoid. The first was to the queen of the witches. The woman who appeared on his screen was an unlikely candidate to be the spiritual leader of a worldwide movement of witches. Christen Wheeler, with her fiery hair and green eyes LOOKED like a witch. The queen was a young woman, for her position -- perhaps forty -- with brown hair and brown eyes, pretty in a non-descript, girl-next-door sort of way. She appeared on the screen in a t-shirt and blue jeans, her hair pulled back in a pony tail. "High consul," she said with a smirk and a wink, her accent classic upper-class English.
"Your majesty," Sebastian answered with a wry nod. "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?"
"It's always a bad time these days...." Looking down at her attire, she smiled. "I'm just out in the greenhouse tending the plants. How are you, Sebastian?"
"Feeling my age, Dora, feeling my age...."
The woman chuckled and said, "Is it that bad, then?"
"As bad as it gets," Sebastian said, leaning back. "Christen's kept you up to date, I'm sure...."
"Sammael, yes.... I never thought I'd see it in my time," she said, plucking a little weed up and mumbling something to it silently. "Sammael.... What are you planning to do?"
"Find him and bomb him. We've got to get the upper hand. Right now he just sits there and pulls our strings. I want him to be thinking on the run for a while."
"But that means," she said, leaving the sentence hanging in the air with a questioning smile.
"It means that I'm calling the humans.... I can't very well just bomb somewhere without letting them know.... Not a bomb of that size, anyway...."
Arching her eyebrows, she said, "That sounds serious."
"You're enjoying this too much," he said to her. "Will you call him?"
"Not on your life," she said with a laugh. "But I'd love a ringside seat for that meeting!"
"Very well.... But I have your support?"
"Of course, my dear! Anyone who wants to see next year is with you!"
"Be well, Dora," he said.
"Blessed be, Sebastian," she said, grabbing her clippers with a wave. If Martha Stewart were a pretty brunette, Sebastian thought with a wry smile. And could make Vermont disappear. Dora was the only living wizard to rival Avery's power, and she was not quite four decades.
Next, he placed calls to numbers he hadn't used in six decades, and red phones rang in the Washington, D.C., Moscow, Paris, London, and Beijing. In each place, leaders were, at first, incredulous, until advised of the state of the world by close advisers in the know. In every case, they gave their uncomfortable support to Sebastian to do what was necessary to stop the coming conflict, and in return he promised they'd be kept informed.
At last, he decided to call HIM. He dialed the number, and the phone rang and rang until, at long last, an old man answered the phone in Italian. "Petrus Marcus D'Angelico," the man spoke, his voice weak with years.
"Father Peter," Sebastian said, "I need to speak to him...."
"That is not possible, vampire," the old man answered without the slightest bit of judgment in his voice.
"Father, this is important or I wouldn't call...."
"Sebastian, he will not listen to you...."
"Peter, I have to tell him, whether he listens or not! It's his conscience when he realizes I've spoke the truth!"
The old man sighed. "Alright, old friend.... One last favor before I go home to God! Hold on a moment...." The old priest stood and walked out of the room, his heels clicking on the cold marble and echoing down the hall.
He knocked heavily on the ancient door and a voice called, "Come in!"
Bowing his head, the old man spoke with urgency, "Your holiness, I have received a phone call that requires your urgent attention...."
"From whom," the pope inquired in Italian, but with a thick German accent.
"Sebastian van der Meer, consul of the Shadow Council...."
"What have we to do with the council of the darkness? Tell him...."
"I've already told him you'd take his call. I'm sorry, your holiness, but it really is urgent!"
The German grunted and reached for his phone. "Mr. van der Meer?"
"Thank you for taking my call, your holiness. I am calling you because we have identified a situation that threatens to spill between our worlds...."
"Has one of your ... creatures gotten out of control? We trust you ... beings to keep your kind under control, consul. If you can't handle your people, perhaps we should resume our ancient roll?"
"You speak hastily Father Ratzinger," Sebastian snapped testily. "The peace that exists between us is old but tenuous, priest, and threats will not be taken lightly!"
"Go on, then," the old man responded curtly. "I haven't all day...."
"A few weeks ago, strange things began happening all over the world, a pattern of unexplainable paranormal events...." Sebastian began, but the old man cut him off.
"We are well aware of these occurrences.... Hardly a pattern, and many of these event trace back to your organization...."
"We discovered and neutralized the traitor; he was, however, working for someone else we have since definitively identified as the archdemon Sammael...."
"LIES," Benedict barked into the phone. "What sort of trick is this?"
"No trick, father. Even now, I am transferring a mass of evidence to your intelligence service for confirmation. The evil one is here, now! We must work together if we are...."
"Thank you for the information," Benedict barked, "but we do not need your help.... This is our affair and none of yours.... The side of light cannot be aided by the forces of darkness in this fight," he said, slamming the phone down.
"Old fool," Sebastian yelled as the connection broke. A few minutes passed as he fumed before the phone rang.
"I told you he would not listen. If our holy father were still alive," the man said simply, letting the comment fade. "So it is the end?"
"Only if we fail," Sebastian said.
"Then God go with you my friend," Father Peter responded. "I cannot hope we shall speak again in this life, but perhaps the next?"
"Perhaps, father. I have been thinking lately ... perhaps God and I are not so far apart as I used to think...."
Sebastian could practically hear the old man smile across the phone, a long restrained I told you so. "Be well, then, and we shall meet again...."
"Goodbye," Sebastian said as he put the phone down with a smile. When Avery and James returned from their evening training, they peaked in on him.
"How were the boys?"
"Okay," Avery said.
"Something's wrong," James said, shaking his head in disagreement.
Sebastian leaned forward, "What?"
"I don't know ... some tension, it doesn't feel quite right.... I don't know what to make of it.... William seems ... not himself, somehow...."
"Now that you mention it," Avery said, "he didn't seem like he was completely in control, he seemed distracted somehow...."
"Hmmm," Sebastian mused, "let me know how things are going the next few days...."
"How about you, how are you doing," James asked softly, stepping in behind Sebastian to message his shoulders.
"I called the humans today, preparing for war.... I've got the tentative approvals of the Security Council to do what's necessary.... Now we just have to find the bastard!"
"Calm down, sweetheart," James practically purred in his ear. "Let's relax tonight and let people do their work?"
"Relax," Sebastian asked, running his hand up James's strong arm. Avery rolled his eyes and walked upstairs as Sebastian turned his chair around and James disappeared behind it with an impish smile.
Early the next morning, Sammael's compound came alive as a transport plane dropped two large containers on the ice outside. Armed men opened the containers and found dozens of huddled teens quivering in terror. "Inside," they yelled. When no one moved, they fired into the air and the children ran out into the driving snow up to the door inside, where they were met by the icy smile of a beautiful man.
"Hello! Welcome to hell!" He laughed as the youngsters screamed and cried and running a full gamut of emotion. Every ounce of terror was pure energy to him, every drop of pain. And children were such rich sources of both. Turning to his men, he said, "Take thirteen to the holding room for the ritual.... Take the rest to the dungeon...."
"Yes sir," the dark soldiers barked, marching the children off to their private dooms. Sammael waited a few moments until the captives were divided, the majority going to dungeons in groups of three or four. Then he followed, picking a cell at random to begin a marathon of torture and cruelty that would recharge his dark energy in preparation for raising Resheph. "It's good to love your work," he laughed as he opened the door and backhanded the teen who charged him, attempting escape. "Feisty! I love it," he said, licking a drop of the boy's blood from his hand. For hours a chorus of screams echoed through the dungeon, each cry of horror increasing the anxiety of the rest of the group, swelling Sammael's power.
When Sebastian and James left their bedroom in the wee hours, they kissed passionately and James winked as he went off to join his friends. Sebastian walked downstairs with almost a skip in his step to check on his messages. Finding little news, he checked in on Richard, who was sitting silently in the living room as Avery tried to talk to him. Avery smiled over but shook his head. Sebastian grimaced, but his pocket vibrated and he went back to his office, flipping a switch. "Good morning, Sebastian," Americ said, a grim smile on his face. "I think I've got him, the bastard...."
"Sammael," Sebastian asked, his heartbeat quickening.
Americ smiled and nodded. "I've been monitoring air traffic for out of the way or strange flights.... A flight just flew over an abandoned arctic research station a few hours ago. I've been checking and this isn't the first one, there are regular cargo flights over the station, and there is a satellite heat signature emanating from the base...."
"Whose is it?"
"A former United States Navy research outpost," Americ said with a smile. Of all the countries with interests in the arctic, the United States would be most easily appeased, especially since the station was closed.
"Do you KNOW it's him," Sebastian asked. He knew how intent Americ was to get his revenge and he didn't want to act blindly.
"No.... We're trying to decrypt some messages to confirm it's him, but that will take time...."
"As soon as you have the evidence, I'll move, but not before then, Americ. We have to be careful...."
"Understood, Sebastian, but I wanted to make sure you'd be ready when I have those messages decrypted...."
"Thanks, Americ," Sebastian said. "I hope to hear from you soon...."
"Goodbye," the man said with a serious nod.
Sebastian sat down and called the wizards at his central command, instructing them to get ready to deliver the bomb, and provided the location so they could prepare a portal to deliver the bomb into the compound.
A deep bass throaty scream, which began low but expanded until it echoed through Sammael's compound, brought chills to the heart of all who heard it. The tall masculine figure sat up on the ancient circular stone tablet carved with arcane symbols, tearing at the enchanted cords that bound him. He struggled until he realized he couldn't break out; then his head cut sharply to face Sammael. With a cold glower on his face, his eyes bored into his captor.
"WHO ARE YOU," he asked in an ancient tongue Sammael couldn't recall the name for. No matter, he understood them all.
With a sneer, Sammael took a step forward and said, softly, "I am Sammael, the one who has resurrected you from dead...."
"Why have you done something so foolish, mortal?"
"You mistake yourself, Resheph," Sammael's eyes glowed with disdain as he leaned in and whispered acidly. "I had endured an eternity of fire before you first cowered in fear in front of your human father, you simpering beast! Do not mistake yourself, for I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!" Resheph's eyes betrayed shock and ... fear. He had no idea who Sammael was, but it couldn't be pleasant. "Better.... Your pet, Sebastian, slew you on the field of battle. I have brought you back because it pleases me to torment him, but do not imagine that you are free.... You are here to do MY bidding, do you understand?"
Resheph's lips trembled with rage, but he nodded stiffly. However, when Sammael lowered the charms which held him, Resheph flew at him like the monster he was. Sammael rolled his eyes just before the ancient vampire impacted him. He was unmoved as the towering figure crushed into him like a brick wall. Resheph lay sprawled in the floor, dazed, and Sammael reached out a hand over him and muttered something fierce. Without warning, Resheph howled in pain, as he felt as if his heart were enveloped and squeezed by a fist of flame. "You'd be amazed at how long I can manage this without tiring.... Indeed, your pain is exceedingly sweet to me, vampire.... The quivering of the strong carries so much power, you fuel your own destruction!"
"Stop," Resheph whispered. "I yield!"
"Good," Sammael said, removing the spell. "Enough of this silliness. Rise, Resheph, we must hurry...."
"Oh?"
"Your little Sebastian won't be long now, I think.... He's been searching for me, and if he finds us he could really put a kink in my plans, so you and I and a few friends are going to make our exit soon...."
"Sebastian is ... that powerful," Resheph asked with a smile. Despite their disagreement, there was still a bit of parental pride there.
Sammael nodded. "He is ... full of surprises. He rules the world of the shadows...." Resheph nodded. He had known the little teen was special all those years ago, and knew he should have listened to the boy all those ages ago. So he saw red when Sekhmet stepped out to meet him.
"Hello, Resheph," she almost purred, but her words dripped venom.
"Bitch," he answered, looking ready to pounce. "I should...."
But he felt Sammael's hand restraining him. "You both serve me now!" Resheph nodded grudgingly. "There is ... another," Sammael said, haltingly. "Restrain yourself!"
Aethon stepped forward, his hands in front of him as if in prayer, laughing and shaking his head. Resheph's knees trembled and nearly faltered beneath him as contradictory feelings coursed through him like electricity. "Hello my child," Aethon said, allowing only a subtle hint of insanity to enter his voice.
"Father," Resheph whispered as he fell to his knees before the vampire who was not his earthly father but his vampiric sire. Thousands of years earlier, beyond the dust of ages, he had watched Aethon torture his real father mercilessly for days. Resheph, then a mortal boy, had watched fascinated as his life's tormenter suffered a fate almost as terrible as he deserved. That feeling had so intrigued Aethon that he had taken the boy as his own child and raised him as a human until he asked to be turned when he had become a tall, handsome, powerful man. He had long since become a monster -- the vampirism was merely a formality.
Aethon's long elegant fingers ran through Resheph's hair as the main grasped his waist, before he whispered, "Come now! We have much to do!" Resheph rose obediently and stood at Aethon's side.
"We are one more, then we must go," Sammael announced as he made phone calls to summon two young men to the temple room.
When Andrew arrived, he shivered. The company was complete, and it was a terrible company. But he was obedient and approached when Sammael summoned him. Peter was one step behind him. "Andrew, you and Peter have met," Sammael said. With a solid look at Peter, he said, "It's time...."
Peter looked uncertain, but he looked deep into Andrew's eyes and had the boy in his thrall in no time. He moved to drain the cute boy, but Sammael grabbed him by the hair. "NO!"
"What? You said you wanted me to kill him!"
Sammael smiled. "You kill painlessly, you let them slip off to orgasmic bliss.... Most people will never have that option, boy! I want you to look into his eyes, his free mind, and kill him painfully. I want you to see what it's like to take a life without the numbing bliss to dampen it...."
Peter looked to the ground but nodded. He let the control he exercised over the young man slip and reached out quickly, grabbing him around the neck. Andrew grasped and clawed at his arm furiously, but Peter squeezed, harder and harder, cutting off the oxygen and blood keeping the boy's brain alive. He saw the terror, felt the fear and panic flowing through the boy. The terror. Andrew rebelled against death. Despite all he had suffered, he did not sink into oblivion but struggled endlessly against the rising darkness of death. But in the end, there is no resisting. He fell limp and ceased to struggle. When Peter released him, he crumpled into a pile on the ground. Sammael smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "Good. Let's go," he said as he led his little team to a portal he had prepared in his office and slipped away without anyone in the facility knowing.
"It's confirmed," Americ announced proudly, sending word to Sebastian via his cell phone text.
Sebastian immediately called the wizards responsible, who had prepared to deliver the weapon. They transported the bomb into the facility unseen and began a countdown. "Five ... four ... three ... two ... one...." On his screen Sebastian watched as the facility exploded in a flash of white light. Minutes later when the debris settled, he could tell that the building had been destroyed at ground level, and that all the out-buildings had been leveled.
"Get some teams in there to explore the rubble. Make sure there are no survivors.... Unless you find any of Sammael's prisoners alive, kill everyone," Sebastian ordered, addressing the wizards, who prepared another portal for the strike forces to enter.
"Yes, sir! We'll report back to you as soon as we can!"
"Thank you," Sebastian said, signing off.
He was about to get up when a beep announced that he had been hailed to video conference. He accepted and a man filled the screen. "Sebastian! Good try, my little friend, good try.... But you missed!"
"You! Well, your base of operations and your staff...."
"No longer relevant in any case," Sammael announced with a knowing grin. Stepping aside, Peter came into view. "I believe you've met my new friend...."
"Peter," Sebastian whispered, getting a sinking feeling and reaching for his desk drawer. Sammael's smile told him all he needed to know.
"It seems Peter and I have a common interest," Sammael announced. "And there's someone else who wants to say hello," he added, stepping aside a bit more.
Resheph's smile was an enigma. "Hello, Sebastian...." At his elbow, Sekhmet smirked, and Sebastian's heart sank.
"Peter, how could you? You have no idea...."
"I'm sorry, Sebastian, but ... I do...." Sebastian saw Peter's eyes, saw that, despite the uncertainty, he did have an idea, a dark and cancerous idea. In that moment he knew that Peter was one of the few people on earth who could actually sympathize with Sammael's cause. He'd had one of the most dangerous people on earth under his own roof.
"Sammael, one day, one day soon, you and I are going to settle this," Sebastian whispered coldly.
"I look forward to it.... In the meantime, I'm hungry," Sammael said with an evil smile, and the screen went blank. Somehow he'd expected it to be more climactic. The end was one step nearer and he didn't feel more scared, he just felt wearier. Slowly, he typed the message to send to the Council:
"Strike failed. Sammael escaped with Sekhmet, Aethon, and a resurrected Resheph. Prepare for open war."
It was around 3:45 in the afternoon and the bus was mostly full of high school freshmen and sophomores. The bus driver rounded the corner of her rural Alabama route and slammed on the brakes -- a fallen tree was blocking the road. Her reaction was not quick enough and the bus slid into the obstruction. Kids were tossed around and fell into the aisles, but everyone was alright. A few were bleeding from minor cuts.
The sound of the front door being ripped open drew everyone's attention, but the bus driver's scream of alarm was cut short as Sekhmet's claw fell on her throat.
When a passing motorist found the vehicle an hour later, he couldn't see inside. The windows were obscured by sticky red. The most seasoned police officers who arrived on the scene puked their guts out at the gruesome scene. The teens inside had been torn to pieces, some ripped limb from limb, girls and boys alike sexually violated, some having been forced to violate each other. Not in the most horrible special effects was the like to be found. When the photos finally made their way to Sebastian, he burst into tears at his desk. The old ones were loose, and Sammael was drawing power, and no one was safe, nothing was sacrosanct. All hell was breaking loose and his best efforts were still one step behind.
None of his advisors had any news that could help or any suggestions for getting ahead of Sammael, so as days passed Sebastian grew more and more morose. Until one fateful afternoon early the next week when the red light on his screen flashed, indicating a security alert.
His men in Richmond were sounding the alarm. Someone was attacking Chase and William. With a yell for James, Avery, and the wizards assigned to his security, he opened a portal to the school grounds and prepared to lead the others through.