Twilight Prophecy

17


Lucy had never in her entire life been as terrified as she was when she heard that blood-curdling roar and realized that James had done the impossible.

Frozen in fear, she almost couldn’t move. But she had to move. It was right behind her. She forced herself to turn, to face it….

Her eyes fell upon a hairless, powerful, naked chest, then rose as she tipped her head back, her gaze rising over thick neck, shoulders bulging with muscle and a face that was undeniably human. And Middle Eastern. And furious as it stared back at her.

No. Not it. Him. He was a man, and his expression looked like one of pain. Emotional pain, perhaps. Maybe physical, too. Who knew? She dug in her pocket for the paper she’d scribbled on earlier, the lines that spelled out the words for friends and safe in cuneiform. She sent up a silent prayer that she had accurately matched the form of the text to the period during which this man had lived, or at least to one close enough to it that it would be recognizable to him.

Then again, according to legend, his life had spanned so many years that he could be familiar with the styles of several different periods. He had been the first immortal, after all. She used to think the Sumerian myths she’d studied and taught—about the flood survivor, the Epic of Gilgamesh—were just that: myths. But now she knew they were real. All of them, real. Even she couldn’t deny that any longer. Not with Utanapishtim, the Flood Survivor, standing right in front of her.

She unfolded the paper even as he stared at her, and then at James, behind her. James scrambled to his feet then, gripping her shoulders and trying to get between her and the creature, but she shook her head. “No, no. He’s not going to hurt me.” She held up the paper, held it toward the ancient one’s face, and she made her voice as gentle as she could. “We’re friends, Utanapishtim. Friends.” She pointed at the symbols as she said the word.

Scowling, he snatched the sheet from her hands, staring at it, blinking, but more interested in the paper, its thinness, its texture, than the words she’d written.

“You…” He jabbed a finger toward James, ignoring her. “You…” he said, then slapped his own chest. “This?”

“Good God, he speaks English!” Lucy was stunned. “How is that possible?”

Utanapishtim’s eyes narrowed on her. “I…” He tapped his ears with his palms.

“Hear?” she asked.

“Mmm. I hear. Long time.” He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse, no doubt because he hadn’t spoken for thousands of years.

“He wasn’t dead,” James said softly. “My God, he wasn’t dead at all. The tablet says that the punishment from the gods for breaking their edict that he never share his immortality with anyone was that he would die, yet remain immortal.”

Utanapishtim nodded slowly. “Im…prisoned.”

Imprisoned, Lucy thought. All those years he’d been conscious, aware within the prison of that stone statue.

Utanapishtim’s eyes dampened, but they were also wild, frightening. “How…long?”

“Five thousand years, maybe more,” James said softly.

The man only stared blankly at him, then shifted his gaze to Lucy, as if awaiting her explanation, and she realized he had no way of knowing what a year was, much less what their numbering system meant. “A year is…a sun cycle. From planting to growing, then to harvest, to resting and to planting again. That’s one year.” She held up a single finger to show him one.

“Mmm. What is…five tousun?”

She blinked and lowered her eyes. Then she found her pencil and started writing on the sheet of paper. Utanapishtim watched with great interest as she drew the Sumerian symbols for 5000 on paper, no doubt curious that she wasn’t engraving them on wet clay with a stylus reed.

If he was this impressed by a simple pencil and paper, Lucy thought, he was going to be overwhelmed when he saw actual modern technology.

Unsure whether it was wise, but convinced he had a right to know, she showed him what she had written.

His eyes shot to hers, then back to the number again and he shook his head in disbelief.

“I know it’s shocking.”

“Aiee, so long!” He shook his head in denial. And then he closed his eyes and backed up to the wall, hugging himself, and rocking, and chanting in his own tongue.

Lucy started toward him, but James stopped her with a hand on her shoulder when she was still a few feet beyond the reach of Utanapishtim’s powerful arms. “We will help you, Utanapishtim.” She spoke carefully, enunciating each word. “We will. I know it will be hard, but—”

He was completely unresponsive.

“Why don’t we give him some space, some time? Maybe something to eat?” James suggested.

The huge man moaned deep in his chest and continued muttering. It sounded to Lucy like a series of prayers. Repetitive, but beautiful.

James took her arm, leading her out of the room and pulled the door closed behind them.

“No,” she said, covering his hand on the doorknob before he’d finished. “Leave it open. If it’s true what he said—”

“You’re right. He’s been imprisoned long enough.”

“Too long,” she whispered.

Leaving the door open, they went up the stairs to the deck above, leaving the ancient man, the first Noah and the first immortal, to his misery. Lucy realized there was no way for her to measure what Utanapishtim must be feeling. No way she could even try. He wasn’t from her culture; his ways of thinking were entirely alien to her. Even if she could guess how she might feel waking up after five thousand years trapped inside a stone statue, essentially buried alive, conscious but immobile and blind—even if she could somehow wrap her mind around that, it still would not bring her even remotely close to what Utanapishtim was feeling.

And then her attention shifted completely when James took a step and collapsed to his knees.

“James!”

She crouched down next to him, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes searching his face, but it wasn’t easy, with his head hanging so low. She pressed a hand to his cheek. “What is it? Was it the resurrection?”

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“It drained you, didn’t it?” she asked, but it wasn’t really a question. “I knew it. I could see it. It was as if you were bleeding your own energy into him, as if he were taking your life to restore his own.” Then she blinked, stunned by what she had said. “He truly was the first vampire. Only it was life itself, not blood, he needed to survive.”

“To revive, at least. There was no mention in the writings of him having to drain anything from anyone to stay alive. He was normal, a day walker, an omnivore, just an immortal one, as far as we know, until the gods cursed him for sharing his gift.”

“For creating the vampire race,” she muttered, sitting down on the deck beside him, leaning back, closing her eyes.

“Do you really believe that? That my race, my people, are so evil that the gods would punish the man who created the first of them?”

“Of course I don’t.” She straightened and looked him in the eye, insisting he see that she hadn’t meant it that way. “I’ve seen your people, James. I’ve met them. I know they’re not evil.”

“Thank you for that,” he said, watching her face.

“It’s nothing but the truth. However, we have to remember that we’re dealing with a superstitious man from a time and place where everything from a scorpion sting to a toothache was considered sent by the gods or by demons. Everything was a reward or a punishment to the ancient Sumerians. And I’m telling you, James, that is what he’s going to believe, or perhaps what he already does.”

James stared at the open hatch, the stairs beyond it. “I wonder if he knew, when he gave the gift to Gilgamesh, that it would cost him his soul,” he whispered. “Or that the great king and every immortal who came after him would need to feed on human blood in order to stay alive? Or that they would only be able to live by night?”

“I wonder if he knew there would be others at all,” Lucy said. “He may have assumed Gilgamesh would keep the gift to himself, not share it and create an entire undead, immortal race.”

“He vowed to…share not the gift.”

They both looked up fast, Lucy shooting to her feet and away from the hatch door as if it had burned her. Utanapishtim was standing there, halfway up the steps, staring at them. He was completely naked and apparently unconcerned about it as he came up the last three steps, onto the deck itself. His hairy thighs were like tree trunks, and he towered over her, standing six-five at the very least.

James got to his feet and stepped between the two of them.

Utanapishtim seemed to search the night sky, probably for the correct words to speak. “I meant not to make…immortal race.”

“I know that,” Lucy said softly. “But it happened all the same.”

“I gave…only to my king.”

“Yes.”

“He swore…only Enkidu, he said.”

“Enkidu was already dead,” Lucy explained. “The king could not bring him back. But when someone else he loved was about to die, he…”

“He…” At a loss for the right word, Utanapishtim mimed snapping something in two.

“Broke,” Lucy said.

“Mmm. Broke. He broke his promise,” Utanapishtim moaned. “For that…I have…” He grimaced as if in pain.

“Suffered,” Lucy said. “You have suffered terribly. But it wasn’t a punishment sent by the gods. There is another reason for your suffering.”

“No other…reason. I saw…Great Flood. Felt its…waters. I know the Anunaki.” He looked at her face, and then at the sea and sky around them. “Do not taunt them, woman. The gods hear all.”

Lowering her head, she wondered how she would ever convince a man from ages past to understand science and logic, when all he’d ever known were superstition and magic. To him, the flood itself was proof the gods existed. To her, it was just a flood, brought about by a period of global warming and the partial melting of the glaciers.

And yet, how could she explain Utanapishtim’s immortality? The fact that he spoke and understood English alone was testimony that what he said was true: that he’d been conscious on some level, even while his body had been reduced to ash. For centuries the sculpture in which he’d been entrapped had been in the possession of an American collector. English had been spoken all around him for generations, until the last heir left the naked priest king to his favorite museum.

If Utanapishtim wasn’t immortal, how had that happened?

“My…offspring. You call…vahmpeer.”

“Vampire,” she said.

“Drinkers of…blood. Like demon Lilith.”

Lucy shook her head quickly. This was just the sort of interpretation she’d been afraid he would begin to put on things. “No. No, Utanapishtim. The vampires do not harm anyone. They are good people. Good people, Utanapishtim.”

He didn’t seem convinced of that. “Yet you are not…vahmpeer?”

“No. I’m as you were. Before the gift of the gods, before the flood.”

He nodded, then shifted his black eyes to James. “You?”

“My father is a vampire. My mother only half.”

“I know not…half,” Utanapishtim said.

Lucy was amazed at the hunger for knowledge she glimpsed in those opaque black-fringed eyes. She held her hands out, palms up. “Vampire,” she said, raising one open palm. “Human,” she said, and raised the other. Then she cupped her hands together.

Utanapishtim grunted, nodding, and sat down on the deck. Then he put a hand on his stomach. “My…hunger burn like fire. My—” He tapped his head.

“Brain? Head? Mind?”

“Mmm, mind. My mind hungers also. You have…tablets?”

“Books?”

“I do not know books.” Utanapishtim sighed, frustrated, and lowered his head into his hands.

“I’ll show him,” James said. “Though hearing our spoken language all those years won’t help you much with learning to read our writing, Utanapishtim.”

Utanapishtim, however, was still holding his head, and nodding it up and down, hands completely covering his face. He was once again muttering in Sumerian.

“I’ll find food,” Lucy said, sending a quick look farther along the deck, to where a second set of stairs led down to the galley. “James, why don’t you find him some clothes, and…some books.”

In the midst of his muttering, Utanapishtim lifted his head from his hands long enough to command, “Be fast, woman.”

Lucy was surprised by the order, but she reminded herself that he had been a king once. He was bound to expect his orders to be followed, his authority to be respected. “Yes. I’ll be as fast as I can.” She took three steps, then paused to send a worried look back at James.

He stood tall and strong, as he had done ever since Utanapishtim surprised them. She knew he was determined not to reveal his weakened state to the other…man. And he’d been doing such a good job of it that he had momentarily even managed to make her forget. But he’d been on his knees only moments ago, weakened, his energy drained by the first immortal.

And yet he stood there, looking as strong as he always was. And she knew why. He didn’t want Utanapishtim getting the idea that he could get away with anything. For Lucy’s sake, he needed to meet the man as an equal.

With her eyes, Lucy asked James if he was going to be all right, darting a meaningful glance Utanapishtim’s way.

James caught her look, read her meaning and winked. “Be fast, woman.”

She smiled, admiring him more than she ever had before. Of the two men, James was the one with the aura of leadership about him. Quiet authority, confidence in his own power. She felt better, suddenly, about leaving him with the hulking, confused, living, breathing artifact and hurried on her way.

James watched the Ancient One for a long moment before nodding and taking him below again, where he went through drawers until he found a pair of jeans big enough for the man. He held them out, and Utanapishtim looked at them, then tipped his head in an inquisitive way. “What is?”

“To wear. To, um, cover yourself.” James gestured at the khakis he wore.

Utanapishtim looked at James’s pants, then at the jeans he was holding out and his expression turned to one of horror. “No! It will…bind my—” He didn’t know the word, so he grabbed his genitals and shook them with a low growl.

James felt his brows arch and tried not to show his amusement. “Maybe some sort of a…toga?”

“I know not…toe-gah.”

Sighing, James pulled the bedsheet from the table and held it up. “Better?” He watched the other man’s face, saw it relax in relief.

“Better,” Utanapishtim said, pronouncing the t’s harder than James had as he took the sheet. He inspected the fabric, then nodded with approval.

Good, James thought. He didn’t yet know the extent of this being’s powers. It wouldn’t do to piss him off. Besides, he needed Utanapishtim’s help. And yet he kept finding feelings of hostility toward the old one bubbling up from some unseen well in his gut. Why?

Who was he kidding? He knew why. He’d seen the way Utanapishtim had looked at Lucy. Pure male appreciation, and probably no small amount of curiosity about her, her bearing, her clothing, her ponytail. Probably best to deal with it now, before Utanapishtim got any ideas about her.

“Utanapishtim,” James said.

The ancient one, who was expertly wrapping the sheet around himself, creating a one-shouldered toga without even a knot or a pin, stopped and looked at James.

“I raised you from ash.” As James said the words, he picked up half of the broken statue, running his fingertips inside to show the old one the ashen residue there.

“Mmm. Woman—seer woman—find me. Burn me. To…protect me, she sayed. But I…feel it. I feel the fire.” He closed his eyes as a full body shudder racked him.

Not only buried alive, but burned alive first. “I am sorry,” James said.

Utanapishtim grunted, nodding and continuing to clothe himself.

“Nonetheless,” James went on, “know this, Utanapishtim. I was the one who found you. I used my power to restore you to life, to give you back your body.”

“You…power?” Utanapishtim asked, his attention now caught.

“Yes. My power.” James looked at his hands. “I can…heal the sick, raise the dead, with my hands.”

Utanapishtim’s eyes narrowed. “You…give me you power.”

“No. I cannot.”

“I take you power!” The huge man surged forward, reaching for James.

James dodged him and held up his hand like a weapon. “I freed you from that statue that was your prison. I can put you right back in there.”

Utanapishtim stopped in his tracks and looked at James, his eyes widening. Then, slowly, he nodded his surrender. “What…want you…from me? Why you find me? Raise me?”

“Many things, Utanapishtim. Many things. But one thing first. That woman…” James pointed in the direction Lucy had taken. “She is my woman.”

Utanapishtim held his gaze, his own slowly easing from one of dark fury to something that might have been…teasing? “The right of the king—”

“You’re not a king anymore, Utanapishtim. You’re a man who needs me. You need me to help you find your way in this world. It is nothing like the world you knew. And I will help you—if you will help me.” James lifted a hand, forefinger pointing in a way that every male of every age would understand, then picked up half the broken artifact in his other hand. “But if you touch my woman, I’ll put you right back inside this statue forever,” he said.

Utanapishtim narrowed his eyes and leaned slightly down, bringing him nose to nose with James. “You…brave. You challenge me—as Enkidu did Gilgamesh.

But you…weak. Cannot fight me…now.”

James looked up, frowning. How did Utanapishtim know? Could he sense the weakness he himself was trying so hard not to reveal? He added extra-sensory perception to his mental list of the old one’s powers.

“You raise me,” Utanapishtim said with a slow nod.

“If I…desire…you woman, I will…allow you…fight me for…own her.” He bowed as if he had bestowed a great gift.

“Utanapishtim, we don’t own women anymore.

They are equal to men in this time. They are free to come and go as they please, to choose the man they wish to be with.”

The ancient one’s face split into a smile. “You…

James of the Vahmpeers. You make me to laugh.”

“It’s not a joke.”

Utanapishtim chuckled aloud, slamming James on the back with one hand. “Woman. Free to choose.

Ahahaha! Why she choose any man, then?” He laughed some more, then caught his breath, swiping a tear from the corner of one eye. “Keep you woman, James of the Vahmpeers. You are freed me prison and made me to laugh. You are worthy to you Loo-see.”

It was going to be a long, slow, uphill battle, teaching this guy, James thought miserably. Oh, not the language. He was speeding along on that. But the twenty-first century? No way. This once-great priest king was in for one hell of a culture shock.

“Now, show me…this.” Utanapishtim turned toward the television set, eyeing it.

“I don’t think you’re ready just yet, my friend. But let me try to explain.”

Utanapishtim held up a hand for silence, moving toward the flat screen and placing his palms on it.

As he did, he closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them again, he whispered, “Ahhhh.

Is magic.” He walked directly to the remote control on the wall, picked it up and eyed it for a moment, and then he aimed it at the TV set and turned it on.

James stood there gaping. “How…how did you—?”

“Like you…I am…power. I…take inside by…” He pressed his palms together. “By touching?”

“Mmm. Touching. Yes. I touching and I…I…what word? What word?” He spotted a book on a stand and went to it. He held the book, which was about yachting, between his palms and closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, mere seconds later, he nodded once. “Now all this,” he said, opening the book and fanning the pages, staring at them in wonder as he did. “All this.” He snapped the book closed again. “In here,” he said, tapping his head with the other hand.

“Just like that?”

“I…take.”

“You absorb knowledge by touching. Like a sponge absorbs water.”

“Ahh. Yes. I touch. I take. Absorb. Good word. Knowledge, yes. Words. Power.”

“Power?” That was amazing, James thought, what he’d just demonstrated. But what did he mean by that last part? He could absorb power by touching? What kind of power did he mean, or was he even using the word correctly? And what other abilities might he possess? “Do you have any other…powers, Utanapishtim?” James asked.

Utanapishtim looked away. “I hunger. And I…want up there.” He pointed toward the ceiling. “Out. Open.”

Nodding, James decided he’d best tackle one topic at a time. Utanapishtim wasn’t going to tell him any more than he wanted to anyway. It was clear the man wasn’t going to have any trouble learning—not if he could absorb knowledge by touch. God, that was amazing.

At least they’d settled the issue of a hands-off policy where Lucy was concerned.

He understood the man’s desire to be outside, beneath the stars, after five thousand years in captivity, so he led his newly resurrected guest back to the upper deck, where they sat in chairs, but only after Utanapishtim spent a few minutes studying his. They stared out at the waves rippling beneath the starry sky, smelling the aroma of sizzling beef wafting up from the galley, and James said, “I wish to tell you why I raised you, Utanapishtim.”

Utanapishtim gave a regal nod.

“There is a prophecy—a story written from very long ago—that says my people will be destroyed. That they will be…no more.”

“Did vahmpeer anger the Anunaki?” Utanapishtim asked.

“No. It is an enemy who will destroy them. Not the gods. The prophecy says that only you, Utanapishtim, can save us. That is why I brought you back.”

Utanapishtim considered his words for a long moment, and then he spoke at last. “It is for the gods to decide.”

“But they are your people, too,” James said.

“I know not…vahmpeer. I know not…they worthy. The Anunaki know.”

“It is written that—only you can save us, Utanapishtim.”

The ancient one shook his head. “I…defy gods. I…suffer. No. I no anger Anunaki again.” And in that moment he looked more like a frightened, battered, abused child than a mighty immortal king and father of the undead.

Lucy arrived with a large tray bearing three plates of food. Steaks, potatoes, green peas. There were napkins, silverware, ice-filled glasses and a pitcher of water. She set the tray on the nearest table, and before she could move to hand Utanapishtim a plate, he had snatched the steak right off one, then shifted it lightly and quickly from one hand to the other, in deference to its heat.

Lucy handed a plate to James, then took her own. Sinking into a nearby chair, she began to eat, using her fork and steak knife, all the while watching the king use his fingers.

Utanapishtim tore off a bite of the steak, chewing, swallowing, nodding. “Good,” he growled, and devoured more. He finished every bite, gulped down his water, belched loudly, then sat back in his seat. “Good woman,” he said at length, speaking not to her but to James, and adding. “You chosen well.” Then, looking at Lucy, he said, “I given you for James of the Vahmpeers,” he told her. “Serve him well, woman.”

Lucy choked on her steak, and James jumped up and slammed her on the back, twice, until a piece of meat came flying out of her mouth.

She stared at Utanapishtim, wide-eyed. Then she looked at James, who shrugged and said, “I tried to explain things to him. He thought I was joking.”

She lowered her head, smiling to herself.

That was not the reaction he had expected, James thought as he watched the reactions cross her face, and then he forgot to think anything. God, she was beautiful. Okay, okay, he was getting off track. He dragged his attention back to the conversation. “You’re not indignant?” he asked her.

“Why would I be? He’s only a reflection of the society in which he lived. No, I was just thinking how interesting it’s going to be when he meets Rhiannon.”

James winced at the thought, which instigated another. “Not to mention my sister. I hope to God she doesn’t blow him up.”

“I know not ‘blow him up,’” Utanapishtim said. “But I know ‘sister,’ James of the Vahmpeers. She is like you, yes?”

“Brigit is…nothing like me.”