The Dark Lord's Vessel

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ye are of your father the devil,

And the lusts of your father ye will do.

He was a murderer from the beginning,

And abode not in the truth,

Because there is no truth in him.

When he speaketh a lie,

He speaketh of his own:

For he is a liar, and the father of it.

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― John 8:44

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BA'AL ZEBUB

Ba'al Zebub glanced over his shoulder, unable to shake the sensation that something malevolent stalked him from the rear. He scanned the shadows for the source of the prickling which crept from his dorsal ridge all the way down to his tail, flicking his long, forked tongue, but all he could taste was his comrade's infected leg wound.

"Master?" he hissed. "Is it a predator, attracted to Ameen's blood?"

He shut his outer eyelids and listened for the familiar whisper, but ever since their gunship had been shot down, Moloch had grown silent. For four days, he and the wounded guard had evaded the Angelic hunting them from the air, but now a new sensation niggled at his subconscious, warning they were no longer alone.

"Master?" He lowered his dorsal ridge. "It wasn't our fault. Your own peataí told us the Angelic only had primitive weapons."

A chill shivered across Ba'al Zebub's pebbled green skin. It wasn't like the One True God to ignore his pleas. They'd been so close to locating the Nephilim artifact, but then Moloch played cat-and-mouse with that black-eyed chieftain. Bah! Humans! Why did Moloch insist on playing with his food?

"Come, Ameen!" He dragged his wounded companion. "We must move further into the desert where the Angelic cannot follow us."

Bloodshot eyes glistened in the moonlight as the feverish guard's tongue darted out to taste the air.

"Shay'tan is coming!"

Ba'al Zebub barked an ironic laugh.

"Shay'tan has no idea where this planet is. I stole his armada. In six weeks it will arrive to enslave the humans."

The c***k of a falling pebble reverberated through the wadi.

"Who's there?" Ba'al Zebub called.

He gripped his sharp, curved khanjar, but he could sense no humanoid, no stench of the enemy. He cast his eyes skyward, searching for the silhouette of wings against the stars. Was it the Angelic? Or a stalking animal? Only last week, Moloch had brought back the skin of a lion!

"Master!" His voice warbled. "Deliver us from harm!"

A distant hunger rumbled deep within his psyche. A series of images played seductively into his mind.

Ba'al Zebub stared down at the guard who'd become injured shielding him with his own body. Guilt panged in his gut as he gathered him into his arms.

"Ameen," he said. "We had a good run, haven't we, old friend?"

"Yes, my Lord." Ameen shivered from the fever. "I will forever be your most loyal servant."

Ba'al Zebub smoothed the guard's sharp dorsal ridge, a gesture given only by a parent, a lover or a friend.

"The One True God saw your sacrifice. He wishes to make you his."

"Will he heal me?" Ameen's voice warbled. "Will he let me go home to my wives and hatchings?"

Ba'al Zebub made an ironic grimace. Shay'tan would cast both of their hatchlings out into the street and force their wives to marry the lowest street sweeper. The old dragon was an unforgiving bastard who never forgot a grudge.

He fingered his khanjar.

"The One True God has new wives to give you. Every one of them a virgin. Every one of them pure."

"How many?" Ameen's eyes bulged with feverish anticipation. "For serving you faithfully all these years?"

"How many wives would you like?"

Ameen devolved into a fit of coughing, but when he caught his breath he said, "Twice as many as you have."

"You want seventy-two wives?" Ba'al Zebub barked a laugh. "That's even more than Emperor Shay'tan!"

He placed his arm firmly across the wounded lizard's chest, a gesture of comfort, a gesture of restraint.

"Seventy-two virgins will be your reward—" he kissed his most loyal guard's forehead "—for carrying back into this universe the resurrected One True God."

He plunged the khanjar into Ameen's jugular. The guard barked a frantic scream. He kicked and clawed as Ba'al Zebub sawed across his throat, his tail thrashing in a desperate attempt to break the restraint-hold.

Blood spurted onto Ba'al Zebub's clothing, so warm and luscious he shut his eyes to savor the copper taste. A pleasant sensation pooled into his loins. An orgasm rippled through his muscles: ultimate power, the energy of someone else's life-force being taken into his own.

He reared his head backwards until his eyeballs rolled up into his head. Fire filled his vision as Moloch took shape, not the pathetic white-winged mortal vessel he'd been forced to wear, but a muscular humanoid with enormous golden wings, topped off by a horned head that resembled a charging bull. This was the One True God's true form, the one Ki had deprived him of.

The otherworld shook with Moloch's fury.

"Ut mihi, et liberasti corpus meum vase prodidit atrum luscus spurius!" That black-eyed bastard betrayed me and stole my mortal vessel!

Ba'al Zebub trembled with relief. Moloch wasn't angry at him. His peataí had rejected him, which meant the One True God now needed a left-hand man.

"Tell me how to avenge this insult to your honor?"

The fire grew brighter as Ameen's spirit stretched to escape the pain. Shattered remnants of other souls Moloch had fed upon swirled around the golden beast like flecks of glitter.

"Our Nephilim allies have not yet found the artifact," Moloch said. "But when they do, they need the key to open the gateway between the realms."

"Tell me where I can find this key?"

Moloch's eyes glowed red.

"That black-eyed bastard had it all along! Just before he crossed the threshold into death, I looked into his mind and saw he held it in his hand."

"You think it is still in the Angelic's village?"

"I am certain of it," Moloch said.

Ameen's spirit light severed from his body. Ameen screamed as Moloch grabbed him by the ankle. His bovine maw split into a grimace as he sniffed the guard and sensed his spirit-light was darkened and corrupt.

"Next time," Moloch said, "sacrifice a victim who is pure."

The gateway began to close.

"But the Angelic's village is well guarded!" Ba'al Zebub shouted. "Tell me how to retrieve this key?"

Moloch pointed to a twinkling, yellow star.

"Follow the Scorpion's Heart southeast. There, at sunrise, you will find a hill with a flat rock at its summit. The Uruk chief has gone there to make sacrifice, pleading for the safe return of his youngest son. Tell him Tizqar was captured by Assur."

With a distasteful snort, Moloch shoved Ameen into his mouth. The gateway closed. Now that Moloch was fed, he had no further use for him.

Ba'al Zebub tasted the air, now able to see, to hear, and to taste far more than he ever had before. After making sacrifice, he always felt more powerful, but this time was different. This time, Moloch had made him a Holy Agent.

Ameen's severed head glistened gruesomely in his claws, his long forked tongue protruding in a silent scream. Ba'al Zebub stared into the now spiritless eyes.

"Thank you, my friend, for serving me faithfully all these years."

He placed the head gently at the top of Ameen's body, wishing fervently he had another victim to sacrifice. But no matter. First he would pry the key out of the Angelic's cold, dead hands, and then he would take it and shove it up Lucifer's tailfeathers.

The shadows moved. Ba'al Zebub reared his sharp dorsal ridge and puffed out his corpulent frame. With his khanjar clutched in his fist, he lumbered towards the darkness he could not see, but a sixth sense whispered, 'here, there is something here…'

He reached into the shadows, determined to find his next victim. Animal? Sentient? It didn't matter. Any life form would make a fitting sacrifice if thoroughly terrorized and tortured. The shadows turned colder. Despite the power which surged through his veins, a disembodied ripple of fear trilled from his dorsal ridge all the way down to the tip of his tail.

"Come, foul lion," he growled. "Try to eat me now, when the One True God has given to me the power to consume your soul!"

Just for a moment, the darkness shifted. Within the shadows he caught a glimpse of an emaciated human girl, her eyes so large and black it seemed as though they possessed no white whatsoever. Whispered words took root inside his mind as the shadows moved to embrace her.

'I'm invisible, I'm invisible, I'm invisible…'

Ba'al Zebub reached towards the phantasm to see if it was real.