The Undying
Morgan woke up with one of the worst headaches of his life. He blinked through blurry vision, trying to figure out where he was and as things slowly came into view, he realized that he was in a lot of trouble.
He was in a poorly lit room whose walls were composed of gray brick. Torches were mounted on brackets here and there, casting the room in flickering light. In the center of the room lay twin altars. Upon the first lay the cloth-wrapped body of Princess Femi. On the second lay the nude form of Lorraine Mitchell. She was bound hand and foot, stretched out as far as her body could stand. Morgan could see blood welling up around her bonds, which were cruelly tight. She writhed as much as she could, tears streaming down her face and terror mounting in her eyes.
Morgan himself was standing up against the wall, his arms raised over his head. His wrists were shackled together just below the ceiling and as he tested the strength of his bonds, he realized that he would never break through.
In the room with him and Lorraine were five men, all dressed in black robes with hoods. Around each of their necks was a large golden ankh necklace. Two of the men were laying out a set of ceremonial knives, placing them beside Femi on the altar. Two more stood guard at the single door that led into the room, keeping close eyes on the activities in front of them. The fifth man approached Morgan when it became clear that he was awake. The man reached up and drew back his hood, revealing a thin face and a hooked, hawkish nose. The man was obviously Egyptian from the coloring of his skin and the accented English he spoke.
"You’ve decided to join us at last, have you? Good. I am Achmed. And you are?"
"Going to knock your teeth out if you don’t let me go."
Achmed laughed, displaying a set of yellowed teeth. "American bravado. It’s always entertaining." The man’s smile vanished quickly and he drove a painful punch into Morgan’s midsection, making him cry out. "Now I will ask you again: what is your name?"
"Morgan Watts. I’m a member of Assistance Unlimited and if you know anything about this town, you’ll realize what a terrible mistake you’ve made."
Achmed’s expression did change a bit at the name of Morgan’s employers. He covered it up quickly, however, turning back toward the struggling form of Lorraine Mitchell. "By the time Lazarus Gray could find this place, we will be long gone. And our Princess shall live again."
"You’re madmen! All of you!" Lorraine spat out. "Let me go and I can pay you! I have enough money to make you all rich men!"
"We don’t care for money." Achmed picked up a slender blade that gleamed in the firelight. "We care only for our sacred mission."
"And what’s that?" Morgan asked. He had an awful feeling that nothing good was going to come of that knife and Lorraine’s current position so if he could keep the man talking, that meant more time for Lazarus and the others to save the day.
"We are known as The Undying," Achmed answered, slowly running the point of the blade between Lorraine’s breasts. The dagger’s point was so sharp that its progress left a thin red line in its wake. "For centuries, we have pursued our beautiful Femi, always waiting for the proper time. She fell in with our cult during the final days of her life, renouncing the old gods. For her sins, she was put to death and strange spells put upon her. Some say the gods did these but we know better — it was the priesthood who put her into these undying slumbers, so that they could make an example of her. They feared that if the common man lost their faith, they would lose their power. And they were right. For her sacrifice, The Undying swore to do whatever it could to revive her. We have tracked her from owner to owner, always hoping to steal her away so that she could be revived. After all the failures of my predecessors, I shall at least succeed. Tonight, she awakens!"
Achmed turned to the men at the door, gesturing for them to open the aperture. They pushed the heavy doors until they slid noisily across the floor, scraping the stone. A chill wind blew in, carrying with it the salty stench of the harbor. Morgan knew where they were, now: they were in one of the storage bays located near the pier. There were dozens of them, each rented out to one or more of the ships that made stops in the harbor.
The Egyptians all gathered around the bodies of the two women, one living and the other trapped in an awful state of un-life. They began to chant and Achmed looked over with shining eyes at Morgan. For some reason, they wanted Morgan alive, so he could watch, but as to why that was, Morgan didn’t have a clue.
Achmed raised his dagger high and brought it down with incredible suddenness, piercing Lorraine’s heart and silencing her screams of terror. Blood sprayed into the air, splattering wetly on the Egyptian’s face. He looked mad as he began tearing and rending at the poor girl’s chest, not stopping until he’d carved out her heart. He raised the still beating organ into the air over Femi’s cloth-covered body. He squeezed, reducing the heart to a bloody pulp, bits of which fell all over Femi’s body.
Morgan felt his stomach lurch and anger blazed inside his chest. He’d seen murder before but rarely had it been done so callously and in such a cowardly fashion.
As the blood soaked through the rags and into Femi’s dried skin, a startling transformation began to occur. Her breasts became fuller, her hair took on a lustrous quality and her skin returned to the pallor and shape of life. She sat up, tearing the bandages from her eyes and as she looked about her, the expression on her face was one of mixed emotions. She seemed elated and yet horrified, as if she was all too aware of how unholy her existence now was. She looked straight at Morgan and opened her full lips. "God is dead!" she hissed and the words carried with them such malice that Morgan winced. This was a woman who despised the religion that had surrounded her in life and which had trapped her for eternity in this horrid state.
"Princess! You have returned to us!" Achmed squealed. She turned quickly, regarding him with suspicion. When she answered him, it was in an ancient dialect that Morgan couldn’t understand. He watched as Achmed and Femi conversed for several seconds and his blood froze as Femi slid from the altar, taking several steps toward him. Achmed switched back to English so Morgan could know what was about to happen. "Femi lives and breathes but she still retains the dark hungers that have been set upon her. She requires nourishment, Mr. Watts. And you, sir, are going to be her celebratory meal!"
Morgan recoiled in horror as Femi opened her mouth to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth. The resurrected Egyptian princess lunged for him, wrapping her arms around his torso. Her tongue slithered like a snake across his throat and Morgan realized that he was about to die.
Miya Shimada was a Japanese-American and her beauty was the perfect mixture of the two races that made up her ethnic background: the slim features of the Japanese melded with the hips and breasts of a Western woman. Her jet-black hair fell in straight lines around her perfectly sculpted face and she wore a form-fitting black skirt and blouse, along with a small hat and veil. She looked like someone headed to a funeral but the cruel smile on her ruby red lips also made her look like the proverbial black widow, seeking fresh prey.
She stood in front of the shuttered windows of Benson Drugs, a pharmacy that had closed down in the days immediately following the great Stock Market Crash of ’29. Now, the entire block was empty, save for the old hotel building across the street. It was now used as the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited, housing Lazarus Gray and his aides.
Miya stepped back into the shadows as Lazarus emerged from the building, followed closely by Samantha and Eun. The three of them moved with grim determination and Miya wondered what mission they were on. She found so much about Lazarus Gray fascinating and she yearned to know why he was doing these things.