Chapter 27

I took Jenny to the hardware store and bought all new locks for the exterior doors, including deadbolts that required keys on both sides. That way, I could make sure she didn’t go wandering when I had to leave the house. I had to promise her that we’d go to the mall and do some clothes shopping and then have dinner on the way home. She was tired of being cooped up and the house all the time.

She had become very passive, if not totally submissive, lately. She went along with most anything I suggested. Actually, I had better results if I made my requests into demands instead. But, Jenny seemed determined to go shopping, she wanted new lingerie. I suppose there were worse things on which to spend time shopping.

She was miserable at the hardware store, trudging along behind me, dejectedly. Once we arrived at the mall, she made a beeline for Victoria’s Secret, and her mood improved significantly. She tried on several new ensembles, and we left with some new corsets, stockings and garters, a couple of bras, and three thongs.

Jenny was very affectionate during dinner, almost playful. She wanted to get naughty under the table, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. I had so many things on my mind. She drank heavily. By the time we left, she was staggering badly, and I had to help her walk.

When we got home, she was fast asleep, and I had to carry her from the garage into the house. As we crossed the threshold, it felt as if someone had tased me. I nearly dropped Jenny as I staggered back. I had seen a flash of blue light and felt electricity shoot through my body.

From somewhere in my mind or my memories, a voice spoke to me. “The wards have been broken, and a counter-spell placed upon your domicile.”

I instinctively knew what to do. It was as if I were on autopilot, and someone else was driving. I gently placed Jenny onto the cushioned bench in the bay window of our kitchen, then moved quickly to the knife drawer and retrieved the dagger Krieg had left me. I felt a tingle in my hands as I picked it up and could have sworn it sparkled.

I unsheathed the blade, and the runic markings on the side glowed with a soft blue light. I closed my eyes and crossed myself, in a manner similar to Catholics, with the dagger as I said out loud, in a voice I hardly recognized as my own, “Atoh Malkuth ve Geburah ve Gedulah, la-olahm. Amen.”

I felt power coursing through my being, filling me with Divine Light. I held the dagger before me, blade upright, and scanned the room. I saw them, floating in the air, one just inside the door from the garage and another in front of the back door. Two large, glowing pentagrams that seemed to be formed of red flames hung there, spinning slowly. They were each about three feet across and floated at chest height.

The pentagram in front of the garage door also seemed to cast a yellow light and sparkled electrically. I was surprised to know what it meant. “We triggered their ward when we came in,” I said out loud to no one. “I must have touched it. They know we’re home.”

I stepped up to the sparkling pentagrams and said, “Shaddai el Chai” as I slashed through it with the dagger. There was a bright flash of light and the distinctive scents of sulfur and ozone in the air. When the glow dissipated, the pentagram was gone. I walked over to the other pentagram and repeated the process, destroying the ward.

I performed the Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram in the room, sealing the entrances and replacing our protective wards that appeared as blue flaming, upright pentagrams. When I was finished, the room felt safe, and the heaviness I had been feeling was gone.

I checked on Jenny; she was sleeping peacefully, so I left her there and continued searching the house. I found two more of the red sigils, at each of the other entrances into the home, and destroyed them. I took the time to perform the banishing and sealing on each door, then made my way upstairs.

As I approached our bedroom, the door was ajar, and an odd light seemed to pulsate in the room, slowly turning from a lurid green to a blood red and back. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and nearly doubled over. I raised the dagger and called out for protection to the Archangel Michael. I heard a hiss from inside the room, as if in response.

I nudged the door with my foot. It slowly opened, revealing a macabre scene. It looked as though a giant spider had filled the room with a complex and chaotic myriad of webs. They hung from the ceiling, rose from the floor, and extended from the walls, all centered around the bed.

Lying in the center of the webs was a hideous monster, with black skin, horns, and a long, spiked tail. It appeared female, as it had large, sagging teats and wide hips, with wiry strands of pubic hair hanging from its crotch. The demon hissed, and the sounds formed into words, in an ancient tongue, long-dead among humans.

“De Ferrieres! Thou hast returned,” she snarled. “Have you come back to enjoy yourself?” As she spoke, she spread her legs wide and ran a taloned hand against her pussy, spreading the lips open and exposing the pink, dripping, inner flesh. “You always were so good at fucking me.”

“I know you, Zezar-el,” I said, the words coming out on their own volition. “Have you attached yourself to Lazarus now?”

Zezar-el screeched, and it turned into a bestial cackling. “You think you know so much, mortal, but you are a fool. I came here to warn you.”

“Warn me?” I scoffed. “Warn me of what?”

“The girl your modern avatar seems so fond of,” the demon spat out the words.

“Jenny?” I said, sounding alarmed.

“Yes, this one,” Zezar-el said, as she moved closer to me. “She belongs to another now. The girl you thought you knew is gone. You cannot save her. Lazarus will kill you and feed your liver to his pets. You are not strong enough. You never were.”

I stepped forward, raised the dagger confidently, and shouted, “I am a Servant of the Light! I command you to leave! Get thee gone, Succubus! Daughter of Lillith! Whore of Abasallon and Abaddon! Return to the seventh ring of Hell!”

Zezar-el seemed to wince briefly, then cackled louder, advancing toward me. “The Gate has been opened, the Seal broken! You cannot command us any longer! Your time as masters of this world has passed! The Dawn of the New Age is upon us, De Ferrieres.”

I drew a cross in the intervening space between us with the dagger. A golden cross of light appeared. “With this sign, I banish you! I command you, Zezar-el, leave this place, or I will destroy you until nothing of you remains! Return from whence you came!”

Zezar-el rolled her eyes.

“I have always been fond of you, Sir William. All those nights you spent in my company during your imprisonment in Acre endeared you to me. I care about you, my pet. I would not wish you suffer again.”

I felt the floor tip, and I was falling.

Chapter 28

Acre

May 6, 1190

“Unto the breach!” Sir Robert Gilbreath shouted, pointing his sword to the gap where the wall had just collapsed. Arrows rained down from the tops of the walls, where Christian trebuchets had yet to strike. The narrow gap was filled with debris, crushed stones, and the broken bodies of the Muslim defenders unfortunate enough to have been on the battlements.

Sir Robert cried out, “Deus vult!” and charged into the rubble.

I drew my sword and shouted after him, “Deus vult!” God wills it! I ran after my brother-in-arms, yelling to spread terror among the Saracens. The smoke and dust were thick, but I could see the white of his surcoat ahead and above me as I ascended the rubble.

A blade flashed to my left. I ducked and felt a shart crack on the side of my head and heard the loud metallic crash of steel on steel, as it collided with my spangenhelm and glanced off. I turned, slashing my sword, and saw wide eyes and dark skin through the visor as my blade decapitated my opponent. His body fell toward me, and I stepped to the side as it fell down the stone pile.

I turned back, just in time to avoid a spear thrust, then grabbed the long shaft and heaved. A Saracen came hurtling toward me, still gripping the spear as I drove my sword through his belly. I placed my boot on his midsection and pulled my blade out, spilling his intestines onto the rocks.

The surge of men behind me pressed me onward. I parried and thrust, dodged and swung, dropping several more of the infidels. We crested the rubble and then flooded through the breach and into the streets of Acre. Sir Robert was twenty yards ahead of me, surrounded by a ring of Saracens. He seemed to be limping.

“Deus vult!” I shouted as I charged forward. I was joined by several other knights and men-at-arms, who formed up around me. We slammed into our commander’s attackers and surrounded him in a protective wedge. The soldiers were no match for trained knights of the Temple. Those that weren’t killed in our initial attack turned and ran through an open gate in an interior wall.

“We must secure the towers that control the gates!” Sir Robert shouted. “They are pulling back! Pursue them!”

We ran after the lighter armored enemy, through the gate into another courtyard. As we passed the gate, I heard the portcullis come down with a loud crash. Our charge halted, and we found ourselves surrounded and outnumbered. Two of the walls were lined with archers, all with arrows knocked and drawn.

A tall Arab, all in black, seated upon a white horse, called out to us in French.

“Throw down your weapons and surrender, and you will live. Resist and die.”

All of the foot soldiers who had come with us dropped their swords and staggered forward. Arrows rained down, striking them and driving them to the stone floor where they died. None of the knights surrendered. Instead, we tightened our ranks, using our shields to form a wall around us.

The Arab spoke again, switching to English, “I should have said, only nobles would be spared, and all of lesser birth would be killed. Come, gentles, there is no need for you to all die today. Surrender, and we will ransom you. Surely your families will pay for your return.”

“We are Templars!” shouted Sir Robert proudly. “We do not surrender!”

“Then you will die,” the Arab said matter-of-factly. “Instead, put down your blades and join me for lunch in my garden. We have a wonderful wine from a Crusader caravan that we raided last week.”

“Deus vult!” Shouted Sir Robert. Every remaining knight shouted our battle cry in response. “Deus vult!”

“Verily, it is true!” the Arab said, “Allah wills it. Kill them!” he shouted.

The ring of soldiers attacked, and arrows fell down upon us, raining death. We stuck together for as long as we could, fighting gallantly. For every man we killed, three more stepped forward. I felt something slam into my left shoulder, and I was driven to my knees. An arrow had penetrated a weak point in my armor. I regained my feet, but I could feel the fatigue.

Sir Robert was screaming like a maniac. He was spinning around wildly swinging his large, two-handed sword. He took an arm from one Saracen and a leg from another before a spear bit into his side. He fell to one knee, and an arrow slammed into his neck. He forced himself back on his feet and charged forward, heading for the mounted Arab.

He cut his way through rank after rank of men. Another arrow found its mark, then another, spinning the older knight around. His sword fell from his hands as he dropped to both knees. He yanked his helmet off and threw it to fall at the feet of the Arab’s horse.

I slammed my shoulder into the man I was fighting, forcing him back, then spun and cut off his head. I lunged forward, trying to get to my commander. The Arab raised a leg over the saddle, then dropped to his feet, raising the blade of his curved scimitar.

“For honor!” I screamed as I drove forward, swinging maniacally. The Saracens fell back from my murderous intent. I was struck from behind, and all went black.

I awoke in extreme pain. My head felt as though it had split open. My shoulder and side hurt immensely, and breathing was difficult. Somehow I realized my arms were tied behind me, and I was lying face down on a smooth marble floor.

I raised my head and looked around. Sir Robert knelt next to me. He was alive, but barely from the looks of him. We were on the floor in a throne room, the Arab from before was seated before us. With great effort, I pulled myself up to my knees.

“Sir William de Ferrieres, Earl of Derby and Knight of the Temple,” spoke the Arab, “You are my guest.”

“You mean prisoner?” I spat out, with a mouthful of blood.

The Arab smiled and repeated, “You are my guest. I am An-Nasir Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub.”

Sir Robert was wheezing and couldn’t speak. I spoke instead. “That’s not possible,” I said, “Salah ad-Din is encamped two hours from here. He could not have entered Acre without going through our lines.”

“Your lines have many holes in them,” he said with a grin. “I can assure you of that and that I am Salah ad-din. You are my guest. I have already had my personal physicians see to your wounds. I am sorry to say that your commander here was severely wounded. You will both need to rest and recover so that we can get the maximum ransom for you. You are no good to me dead.”

Sir Robert coughed up blood and spit it at Saladin. “Pox be on you and all your kin, you sheep fucker!”

“My sheep would be honored to be blessed in this fashion, but alas, I prefer women,” Saladin replied.

He clapped his hands, and several beautiful women appeared, dancing and cavorting around us. One of them caught my eye, a beautiful girl with a light complexion. She could have been a western noblewoman captured by the Saracens.

“I see you like the yellow-haired one,” Saladin said, “I will send her to you when you are healed enough to handle her special ministrations.”

Our host rang another bell, and several large men ran up to where Sir Robert and I knelt. They waited for Saldin’s commands.

“Take my guests to their appointed rooms and see that they receive the care they need,” he commanded.

The guards came forward and dragged us out of the throne room. They carried us through corridor after corridor, down numerous flights of twisting stairs. The lower we went, the more the stench increased. Finally, we were dumped in a damp cell that stank of decay and death.

Days passed with no one coming to the cell other than to pass fetid water and moldy bread through a panel in the door. The days were unbearably hot and the nights freezing cold. We had to live among our urine and feces, so the smell went from bad to worse quickly.

One the third day, I found a rat feasting on Sir Robert’s corpse. On the fifth day, guards removed his body, leaving me alone. That night she came to me for the first time, the beautiful blonde girl that I had seen in Saldin’s throne room. I never heard the door open. One moment she was just there, wearing a white shift that was nearly translucent.

She didn’t speak. She just came to me and removed her garment. I stared at her naked body and felt myself growing aroused, despite my injuries and the horrid conditions. She undid my filthy pants and straddled me, guiding my tumescent manhood between her legs and inside of her body. She rode me until I spilled my seed, then rose quietly and left me. When I awoke, I could barely remember her visit.

Was she real, or had I dreamed it all?

She returned the next night and every night for weeks. Our encounters become longer and more loving as time passed. At first, she would mount me and ride me to completion. Gradually, however, I started fucking her, pushing her on her back and claiming her as mine. Eventually, I found myself dreaming of her visits and longing to see her. When she came, I made love to her, tenderly, passionately, with every bit of energy I could manage. We never spoke.

Then, one night she shocked me by speaking. “This is our last night, my darling,” she said softly as she came to me.

“No, it cannot be,” I protested. “I love you! I cannot live without you.”

“You will not, this is true,” she replied. “For on the morrow, you are to die.”

“Then, if I must die tomorrow, let us spend my last night making love,” I told her.

“You do not truly love me, De Ferrieres, you only think you do,” she argued. “If you saw my true self, you would hate me and cast me out.”

“I see you now,” I protested, “and I do not hate you. I saw you in the throne room, and I fell in love with you at that moment.”

“That wasn’t me,” she said. “That girl has never come to you in your dreams as I have done. I took her form because I saw it in your mind and knew you found her attractive. I wished to please you, so I made myself appear like her. If you saw my true self, you would despise me.”

“In any guise, I love you,” I stated emphatically. “I must know your name and your true face. Please, I beg of you, if tonight is my last night, spend it with me in your true appearance, so that I may know you and love you.”

She came to me and kissed me. I took her in my arms and made love to her. As I did, I felt her body transform. Small, malformed wings, like those of a bat, sprung from her back. Horns erupted from her head, talons from her fingers and toes. Her hair turned dark and matted, and her skin became like ebony. Her teeth twisted into fangs, and a long, serpent-like tongue flicked from her mouth.

I was still fully aroused and inside her. I was mesmerized by her appearance and continue to thrust into her, even harder than before. She clung to me, talons ripping into my skin as she climaxed. I couldn’t hold back and spilled my seed inside of her.

“Please, I must know. Tell me your name,” I pleaded.

She shook her head. “It is forbidden.”

“I must know. It is my dying wish.”

She pulled me to her tightly, pressed her mouth to my ear, and whispered her name, “Zezar-el.”

We made love again, and then she vanished. At dawn, I was visited by the guards, who dragged me from my cell. They carried me outside to the battlements overlooking the siege. As far as the eye could see, the banners of Christendom fluttered in the morning breeze. The army had tripled in size, or more, during my captivity.

Acre would fall. Salah ad-Din had left the city, to return to his army, but had failed at lifting the Christian siege. I stood high above the Christian army atop the southern wall. Below, I could see the banner of Guy, King of Jerusalem.

I was forced to kneel. As the large curved blade arched down, I saw her face again. I must have been dreaming because it was only in dreams she came.

I smiled as the scimitar sliced threw the flesh and sinews of my neck. I heard the blow. I felt the pain. I saw my headless body fall to the stone floor of the battlement. The world around me spun wildly as I fell through the sky.

Chapter 29

I stared at Zezar-el, remembering everything. She was close enough for me to kiss her demonic lips. Instead, I plunged the dagger into her heart. She shrieked, and black blood sprayed from her chest, coating me in its foul stench.

“In the name of Jesus, I cast ye back into the pits of Hell! Begone! Foul demon! Zezar-el, I banish you!”

She shrieked again and faded slowly from sight. Her voice called out to me from the Abyss. “She is gone, my beloved! Let her go!”

The bedroom was back to normal. The webs were gone as if they’d never been there. I heard the alarm chime indicating a door had opened. I turned and ran back downstairs to the kitchen. Jenny was gone, and the back door was open.

I flew out the door, looking everywhere. I couldn’t see Jenny anywhere. I heard a car and ran around the corner of the yard by the cul-de-sac. Jenny stood next to the open door of a black limousine. She saw me and waved, then climbed inside. The door shut, and the stretched limo rapidly drove away.

I stood alone in the night. Jenny was gone. All that remained was the heavy scent of cinnamon.

THE END OF CHAPTER SEVEN