Serpent's Salvation

He took special note of a select few. He caught the eye of an intensely rigid man with a prematurely white buzz cut who stared daggers at Mych. He returned Aurel's barely perceptible nod without stopping a terse monologue. Mercer Bennet.

Militaristic bastard. He must have an assault rifle up his ass. He probably masturbates with napalm while watching The Killing Fields.

Aurel suppressed a smile at Mychael's rather rude indictment of the man. He had to agree.

A lone figure on a dais at the end of the room caught his attention and held it without effort. Aurel responded to the man's beckoning hand with alacrity.

You know how I feel about this Aurel.

"Noted. Now hush."

But he's a goddamn robot! He gives me the willies.

"Mych." He couldn't mistake the warning growl in Aurel's voice. "He is not a robot. And there are many here who would say the same thing about you."

The youthful man that had summoned him was garbed simply in a suit of fine white linen that deepened the olive of his skin. His dark hair was swept back in a clasp revealing unlined, ascetic features that gave away nothing. He sat casually in the chair, legs crossed, slim form fluid, but anyone present could tell you that looks were definitely deceiving. Aurel presented himself and made a small gesture of obeisance. Mychael hung back at the edge of the crowd, looking mutinous but equally unwilling to incur the wrath of Aurel or Aurel's elder. The seated man looked at Mych for a long time with an unfathomable expression before turning towards Aurel.

"They all avoid me, Aurel." The man indicated the crowd with a wave of a slender bronze hand.

"You don't seem too concerned," Aurel said.

"That is because I know why they avoid me." He looked pleased. "And yet you are here. They think you either brave or foolish."

"Perhaps a bit of both Seth."

"No. You have the heart of a lion. She," he indicated a matronly woman who immediately cowered, "has the heart of an incontinent guinea pig."

"You overrate me. I'm just less prudent than most."

"If you were twice as prudent and half as wise you would still seek me out."

Aurel laughed, just as Seth intended. "Maybe I would at that."

"Would you give me your hand?" Seth asked.

Aurel hesitated for a moment, reluctant, but gingerly placed his hand in the other's, jumping at the frisson of sensation that raced along his arm. It was like a shock of electricity, and no matter how often he felt it he could never get used to it.

Seth inhaled sharply as his hand clenched and his black eyes unfocused, the pupils dilating and swirling with raw power. Aurel hated this, at this moment especially. He had always felt that Seth could see into his soul, like his entire emotional state was flayed open and laid bare, a sacrifice whose entrails were to be read. Aurel's every nerve was twitching, not exactly painful, but not comfortable either. The time that passed was brief, but to Aurel, it seemed like an age of pins and needles. Seth's eyes slowly refocused, coming back from wherever he had gone, his hold on Aurel, both body and mind, relaxing. His look was knowing and something else. Compassion?

Aurel did not prompt the other man. He waited, hardly daring to breathe, knowing that Seth was choosing his thoughts carefully, and that he would tell him no more than he thought necessary. Seth was sometimes cryptic, often incomprehensible, his hints not resolving themselves until the events were already unfolding. At other times he could be remarkably blunt, even cruel, but never to those in his favor.

"Aurel, the fates have not been kind to you of late. There is one that would destroy you, and one that will be your salvation, but even that shall come at a price. I wish I could say more, but not everything has been revealed to me and I cannot anticipate the actions of everyone involved. If I foolishly interrupt the balance of things all of your work could be for naught. I will help where I can, but the burden is upon you." Seth squeezed his hand in reassurance as he spoke, a small gesture that spoke volumes. "Now go. Protocol will not allow me to show my preferences by speaking to you for long. At least not in this arena."

He turned to leave, but was halted by a barely perceptible whisper from Seth.

"Aurel. This is just the darkness before the dawn; you will see. Let Amon guide you." Aurel processed this for a moment, listening more to what wasn't said, rather than what was.

He hesitated only briefly. "Seth, you are more a father to me than my own ever was." It was a demonstration of trust; Seth knew it and valued it.

"As you are my son."

Aurel's first step faltered a bit, but Mychael's incipient frown helped him recover as he strode away. No one would have seen his moment of awkwardness. Few were prepared to incur the displeasure of Seth as he held court. Eyes were kept averted out of respect and a healthy dose of fear. Mychael trailed behind for a moment, his gaze fixed on the man they had just left.

Seth's words gave Aurel much to think about. One who would destroy him. Baruch? No. He discarded that thought almost as soon as it appeared. Seth talked of what would be, not the past. Another traitor, or merely a nemesis on the council plotting to kill him? He would meditate upon this later, when he had less to accomplish and more time for speculation.

He would have liked to discuss it with Mychael, but he knew that Mych didn't trust Seth the way that he did. Didn't trust Seth at all for that matter. Mych was much too pragmatic for oracles. Aurel had to remind himself that he had once been just as skeptical, that only time and truth had swayed him.

He actually smelled Niran before he saw him. The cloying, oily scent could be no other. The man must have bathed in aromatic oils.

If he bathed.

Aurel looked at Mychael, who shot him a sly glance.

You know I can't read your mind. I just know you well.

"Too well", Aurel managed before Niran was upon them.

Niran was Beardsley's corpulent Ali Baba come to life. Instead of economical lines of black and white, he was a jaundiced expanse of oily flesh and hair. His Cheshire cat grin was replaced by a sneer as he looked at Mychael.

"Aurel, I would have thought that you would be more courteous than to flaunt this sort of filth in front of us." He was loud, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby, the malicious twinkle in his eyes deepening as he gained an audience.

"Mychael is my right hand Niran, I would trust him with my life. You have your allies." Aurel indicated Niran's son, Krait, who stood several steps behind his father. "Why should I hinder myself and insult a friend to appease a bigoted few?"

"He's an abomination! A Ronan. You insult everyone here with his attendance." Niran spoke with his hands; his chubby, bangled wrists floundering like dying fish. "In your arrogance you have forgotten your own people. I've heard rumors Aurel. I've heard that you have befouled your own nest. I can only assume that it is their doing." He pointed at an indifferent Mych with a melodramatic flourish, jewels winking on the sausage-like fingers.

He missed his calling as a carnival barker. I could be the sideshow geek for all the elaborate squawking he does.

Mych was a study in nonchalance, appearing bored but respectful. "And now you want us to grant them permanent asylum," Niran said. "They are manipulating you to gain their own ends. Well I won't have it. You might not care about the preservation of our ways, but I do."

Niran either didn't notice or didn't care that Aurel's eyes were starting to change in intense anger, the light brown of his iris' turning a fiery gold. With a last harrumph he sailed away like a triumphant barge, a flick of a wrist summoning his son after him. Krait followed behind, but not before looking between Aurel and Mych, his expression intense and unreadable.

Aurel sighed, relaxing tensed muscles as Niran walked away and the people nearby went back to their own conversations. He usually kept silent when the man chided him publicly, exuding chilly courtesy, knowing that the man's venom did more to show him for what he truly was than any practiced insult could.

I feel sorry for that kid.

"Kid? Krait is over a hundred years old."

Nevertheless. He's a kid. With a father like that he has to be emotionally stunted. He's hungry for something, and isolated. Did you see the look he gave us? It was pathetic.

"You sound like you've been reading Misha's magazines again," Aurel said, but he looked at Krait with new eyes.

Hard to believe that Niran sired someone like that, isn't it?

It was. Where Niran was fat, Krait had a hard, lean body, tempered by exercise and hard work, with a face of exotic beauty. Niran was pompous and overbearing, Krait quiet and self-effacing. "My own father was distant and cold, but never abusive. I can't imagine being subject to a martinet's whims."

I can.

Aurel looked at Mych curiously, but he had closed his expression, just like he did any other time he felt he had said too much. Aurel knew that Mychael had suffered, but Mych had never shared his experiences with him. Every small slip gave Aurel a glimpse of what created the man at his side, and every glimpse was as intriguing as it was painful. Aurel pretended to ignore his small lapse. Mych knew this and was grateful for his friend's discretion.

They walked towards Alex and Cai, who were sitting at the periphery of a group discussion, biding their time before the meeting began. They had agreed to share their impressions afterwards, so they relaxed into the conversation, exchanging easy banter and observations, ignoring the few icy stares and pointed looks they received. A casual acquaintance cornered Aurel and looked towards Niran, whose eyes were following them with sheer malevolence.

"What was all that about?" She ran her finger down Aurel's bicep, as he followed her gaze.

"I'm not quite sure, but I've grown accustomed to it," he said. "If I said the sky was blue, Niran would claim it was green just to spite me." He frowned at the thought. "I have no idea why he is so venomous, but I stopped questioning it a long time ago."

He politely removed himself from her roving hand and turned his attention to the people around him, not so much the words that were spoken as the ebb and flow of conversation, seeking a discordant note. Nothing was terribly obvious so Aurel carefully opened his senses to those around him, just as Cai and Alex were surreptitiously doing. He let his hypersensitivity come to full flower, licking the edge of his lips to scent any changes in emotion, any subtlety that would tell him...

There.

Something was definitely odd. He was surprised that no one else seemed to catch it, but the scent was extremely subtle, barely there. Something familiar. Something-

Aurel's eyes widened and he sucked in a quick breath that held. And held. It couldn't be. And yet…His skin rippled, his eyes becoming a helix of fire, windows into the blazing inferno that blossomed and threatened to overwhelm him with its intensity. She was close, so very close. He inhaled as much of her scent as he was able, taking her into his body, memorizing every nuance, the subtle shift and play of aroma that marked her. My God. Marked her as his. He couldn't get enough of that tenuous smell. His body tightened, tendons like bowstrings, thrumming with possibility, hands shaking with a need that had been foreign to him just scant moments ago. His face was a rictus of painful desire, eyes clenched in a futile attempt at reclaiming his social mask. He tried to maintain his control, his normal façade. He could hear the whispered concern, a drawn breath, knew he was failing and couldn't bring himself to care.

She wasn't here, she was...

He ran. Aurel raced off towards the entrance to the house, ignoring the surprised shout behind him, the ripple of interest that arrested the gathering, the tendril of question in his head. His long, powerful legs blurred in haste. Mych and Ruvn followed in hot pursuit, their confusion obvious and total.

Aurel.

Aurel!

What's wrong?

Aurel couldn't answer, couldn't function until he knew. Until he was certain. Until he saw her with his own eyes, put his face in her hair to inhale deeply of her; prove to himself that she wasn't a figment of his imagination, that she wouldn't disappear like a Djinn. Until he had her covered, hot and ready, begging for...

Aurel shook off those thoughts and pressed hard, entering the house, surprising the man stationed at the door even though he had been mentally warned. Aurel had always been so cool and composed; his actions now were a shock. Mych and Ruvn followed close, uncertain and fearful, but committed to helping their friend. Aurel's Italian dress shoes weren't made for running and he slid on the slick grey marble as he rounded the paneled hall into the vast foyer, continuing his sprint to the front entrance. He stopped for a moment as he reached the door, lungs working double time, pulse heavy and fast. She was gone, but not for very long. He spun in place, inhaling. Her scent was stronger here. It filled the hall. It filled the world. He grabbed the door guard by his jacket and shook him.

"Where is she? Where has she gone?" Aurel was more beast than man as he snarled his demand. The guard, not without his own defenses, became fearful as Aurel's fangs elongated, as his flesh moved in a sickening wave that looked like a creature moving underneath his skin.

"Sh-she?"

Aurel picked the man up and thrust him against the wall, holding him there as his feet dangled.

"Now." The word was a guttural mess, but the guard understood.

"Th-there is no she. No woman has been here." Aurel thumped him hard against the wall, the plaster cracking. "I swear!" The guard was sweating, eyes wide, brow pinched in combined fear and shock. Aurel shook off Mych's tentative hand as he prepared to attack the man, savage him, but the guard reached a shaky hand into his pocket and drew out a slightly crumpled card; a card that carried her fragrance, waving it like a magic talisman. Aurel grabbed at the card hungrily, dropping the guard in a heap on the floor where he scrambled away to safety. Aurel brought the card to his nose, closing his eyes as he inhaled. He smelled soap, a hint of musk, a fresh clean scent that reminded him of rainy woodland, and...

Alarm bells started to go off in his head even before he opened his eyes. If he had been honest with himself, he would have admitted that he heard them as soon as he scented her, but had ignored them as his other senses overwhelmed his instinct. Madness and desperation gave way to confusion as he tried to deny what his senses were screaming at him. He smoothed the fine paper and read the neat script with mounting apprehension.

Mych watched in horror as Aurel's legs shook, then buckled under his weight. He crashed to the floor with a sob, shoulders shaking, hands paper white.

"Shit!" Mych ran forward to help.

Ruvn took a tentative step forward. "Is he going to be alright?"

"I don't know. Don't just stand there, help me," Mych said. "The rest of you, back to your stations."

The rest of the guards that followed had scattered to the edge of the room, uncertain and deeply disturbed at this uncharacteristic breakdown. They all held Aurel in awe, and the fact that he was showing such complete vulnerability scared them.

"That means now." The men jumped at the barked order and fled the room, returning to their posts.

Aurel was unresponsive as he was awkwardly picked up and carried between Mych and Ruvn, convulsing with tears as he was taken to his room.

"What do you think happened Mychael?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out."

Mych stayed with Aurel for a while, trying to offer silent support, but it was obvious that Aurel didn't even know he was there, such was his grief. He was curled in upon himself, rocking back and forth on the bed like a small child. Mych covered the hunched figure with a blanket before quietly making his way outside. It wasn't until he softly latched the door behind him and entered the brighter hallway that Mych took the small piece of paper that he had rescued out of his pocket. He read the few words, the number penciled beneath it, and blanched, a look of pain haunting him as he looked back at the door he had just exited. He ran his thumb over the raised print and read the card again, cursing its existence. Just four simple words. Who knew that four little words could completely destroy a man?

Sebastian Fell
Nature Photography

*****

You are ordered to send me an email. I require feedback. You know how zombies need human brain matter to function? I need comments and critique like they need noggins. Don't bother to be rude, you won't get a rise out of me and you just end up looking silly. I mean, dude, this is the Internet. Get a hobby, cultivate bonsai trees, run marathons, eviscerate kittens in your basement, anything but attack a total stranger on the web.

I put a big clue to what most of the characters are in the first chapter. I would like to know if anyone has guessed. You don't get a prize, just the warm fuzzy feeling that tells you that you are superior to all the other non-mythology geeks. (I have cobbled it together from different world mythologies, picking and choosing, so don't nit-pick over small stuff)