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  SERAPHIM

  The Seventh Day Series Book One

  By Leslie Swartz

  Copyright 2019, Leslie Swartz

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020903741

  ISBN: 9781097632800

  The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.

  William Shakespeare

  Prologue

  “Another one?” Lilith implored as Allydia emerged from the entrance of a chamber well hidden in the panels along the temple’s far left wall, the stain of crimson still visible on her lips and chin.

  “It was like being stabbed frantically with a stitching awl,” Allydia complained.

  Lilith giggled as she poured her step daughter some wine. She admired the engravings on the gold cup as she handed it off and sat on her throne. The limestone was cool against her bronze skin which she had lovingly draped in a sheer, fringed shawl.

  “Allydia, dearest,” she condescended. “How many times must I explain that you have to train a man to please you? No man will ever seem worthy of you if you do not teach him to be.”

  “I refuse to put that kind of effort into a relationship I expect to last only until sunrise,” Allydia retorted as she sat in her own throne, somewhat smaller and to the left of her step mother’s. “If a man can not satisfy me, he will be my dinner.”

  “You will never be satisfied. What you are disallows it,” Lilith told her. “But, at least you’ll be well fed.” They raised their cups to each other and drank.

  “Mmmfff,” the man sitting at Lilith’s feet whined. She kicked him in the ribs before reprimanding him.

  “I will give back your speech when I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson!” The naked man cowered and nodded, his lips still fused together. Several other servants stood around the throne room doing their best to remain still and silent, awaiting instruction, beratement, or torture. They only wished that the hoards of worshipers that gathered around the temple day and night would one day rise up against these creatures and save them from their servitude. They knew, however, that that was a hopeless fantasy, so they suffered, resigned to their fate.

  “I’m bored,” Lilith lamented. “I think it’s time for us to move on. Spread out. Expand our empire.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Allydia wondered.

  “I’m so glad you asked,” Lilith said, giddily. “I have great plans for us. Our army is set to invade all of the nearby cities, all at once! They only await my order. Nippur, Nineveh, Assur. Once I’ve taken control there, I can take what’s rightfully ours.”

  “Babylon,” Allydia concluded.

  “Yes! We reign here, not them. We’ll take the city and I will find a way to close the Gate, permanently. With that done, the entire world can be ours. It’s so much bigger than you know. I can’t wait to show you.”

  “My Queen,” a man said from across the room. He had entered while the two were talking and didn’t want to be punished for interrupting, but this couldn’t wait.

  “Yes,” Lilith said quizzically.

  “I want to thank you for the honor of your presence and I’ve come today to ask that you please save my farm. My crops are dying,” the man explained. “I have four children at home that won’t survive if I can not feed them.”

  “If you were me,” Lilith asked. “Would you care about that?”

  “I’ve not come empty handed, my Queen. I offer sacrifice.” He unwrapped the bundle he’d been carrying to reveal a sleeping infant. Lilith’s interest was piqued. She sniffed the air.

  “Well, that baby is brand new,” she said lustfully.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “Born last night. I have no way to feed her. She is yours if you help me. I beseech you.”

  “Where is that child’s mother?” Allydia asked.

  “Dead,” he told her. “The delivery proved to be too difficult.”

  “Dead?” Lilith queried. “It’s not much of a sacrifice to offer a burden.”

  “Please, my Queen. I will give you anything. Take of me what you will.”

  “Fine,” Lilith sighed. “I’m feeling generous. I accept your sacrifice.”

  “Thank you!” the man gushed, laying the baby at Lilith’s feet, the mute servant staring in horror. “Thank you so much.” He placed his hand over his heart and bowed as he left the temple, relief washing over him like rain.

  “Why do they think I can solve their problems?” Lilith asked.

  “They think you’re God,” Allydia reminded her.

  “Oh, right,” she chuckled.

  Lilith bent down to retrieve the quiet bundle, but before her hands could reach, the servant snatched the child up and ran.

  “Is this a joke?” Lilith wondered. She flicked her wrist, snapping the man’s neck from across the room. He fell to the floor, taking the child with him. She started to cry.

  Just then, the Earth began to tremble. Wind blew in from the small entrance. They could hear the screams of people outside as the mud bricks of the building started to crumble. One of the servants, a woman who’s own child was recently taken by her mistress, never to be seen again, took the opportunity to grab the wailing infant and flee. Suddenly, the shaking stopped and as the dust settled, they could see a figure standing before them.

  “Sister,” the man said slyly.

  “It can’t be,” Lilith said, stunned. “I thought you were in, what did He call it?”

  “Hell,” he affirmed. “I was. I will be again. But I won’t be going alone.”

  “You wish to imprison me, brother?” she guffawed. “On what grounds?”

  “Well, there’s a list, isn’t there?” he jeered. “Crimes against humanity covers most of it. You know how He feels about His people. But, He’s been willing to overlook that until now. Bigger problems to solve. But going after The Gate? Too far.”

  “I haven’t done that yet,” she challenged.

  “But you would, if left to your own devices. You forget, He sees all. Nice to see you again,” he said, turning his attention to Allydia.

  “Don’t know that I can say the same,” she responded.

  “Don’t worry,” he comforted. “I’m not here for you.”

  Lilith rolled her eyes. “I’m bored again,” she huffed. “You, dear brother, have overstayed your welcome. Shoo.” She waved her hand, sending him flying into the far wall, cracking it further.

  “I was hoping to do this gently, but, you give me no choice,” he opined. He opened his arms and waved his hands toward himself. The remaining servants all came forward, shock and horror covering their faces as they were forced to move closer and closer to their Queen. For the first time in her very long life, Allydia saw fear in her step mother’s eyes. The servants now rushed to Lilith, grabbing her and holding her steady. She fought them, tossing their bodies around like pillows. But they kept coming. Even the ones she killed reanimated and came for her. They forced her down into her throne and held her there as her brother neared.

  “No!” she barked angrily. “You can’t!”

  Allydia backed away, knowing what the man was capable of.

  Lilith’s anger turned to fear as her fate seemed sealed. “Please, brother,” she begged. “We can all rule this world together. You don’t always have to do what He says!”

  “You know that simply isn’t true,” he said, kneeling before her and placing his hand on her head. He began the incantation while she screamed.

  “Stop!” she pleaded. “Don’t! Please! LUCIFER!”

  Chapter 1

  “How have I been since our last session?” Wyatt said impatiently, shifting a little in his seat. “Well, let’s take stock. My wife left me because I’m not father material and I lost my job because, apparently, I’m too crazy to run into burning buildings. All in all, I’d say the last week hasn’t
been exactly stellar.”

  The therapist raised his eyebrows and took off his glasses. He sat them gently on the table next to him and picked up a pen. He scribbled something down and turned his gaze back to his patient.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr. Sinclair. Truly,” he told the man, who was visibly becoming more and more uncomfortable.

  “Thanks,” Wyatt said flatly.

  “What would you like to discuss first?” the doctor asked, keeping his voice calm and soothing, almost monotone. His timbre seemed to annoy Wyatt more, but the doctor was steady, knowing that what this patient needed in that moment was a cool sounding board. That and a shit ton of anti psychotics.

  “Work, I guess,” Wyatt said halfheartedly. He was tired, not having slept in about thirty hours. Between that and days of weeping, his eyes were pained and bloodshot, barely able to stay open. Getting fired had pissed him off, but losing his wife destroyed him. He would have to work his way up to talking about her.

  “All right. Tell me what happened,” the doctor instructed, readying his pen for what he was sure would be a lot of note taking.

  “It was the hallucinations,” Wyatt confessed, brushing his dark hair away from his right eye. “They’re not going away, no matter how many drugs you put me on.”

  “Are you not seeing any improvement?” the doctor asked.

  “No,” Wyatt answered, clearly upset. “I was convinced there was a woman screaming for help inside an apartment next to one we’d just put out. I was so sure, I took an axe to the door. The eighty-seven year old man that lives there, who was the only person inside at the time, almost had a heart attack. He’s suing the department.”

  Hallucinations continue. Need to up dosage of Resperidone, the doctor wrote. “And how does that make y--”

  “I swear to God, if you ask me how getting fired makes me feel, I’m leaving right now,” Wyatt threatened. He slicked his hair back out of his face and took a deep breath. “I understand why they let me go. I don’t blame them,” he asserted. “I’m just sick and fucking tired of seeing and hearing things that aren’t there.” He again combed his hair back, trying and failing to keep it out of his eyes. He knew he was long overdue for a haircut, but he just couldn’t muster the energy to care. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaved. Probably four days ago, maybe five. Today was the first time he’d showered in that same amount of time. What was the point? Without Annie, life didn’t seem worth living and the mundane routines of maintaining that life felt like a profound waste of time.

  “I hadn’t even told her,” Wyatt admitted. “I was looking for another job, hoping I could just say I needed a change. Like it was my decision, instead of having to tell my wife that I was put out on my ass for being a lunatic.”

  “Let’s talk about Annie,” the doctor insisted. “Clearly, that’s what’s bothering you the most.” His voice was unconvincingly sympathetic and Wyatt struggled not to let his anger at the doctor’s lack of sincerity ruin the session. Over the years, Wyatt had had many psychiatrists, none of which had been much help. While the hallucinations persisted, Dr. Stratford had been the only one to help him get through some of his more common issues; his mother’s death, his father’s distance and cruelty and his general feeling of not belonging. The truth was, he was good at his job, whether he actually cared about Wyatt’s well being or not.

  “Sure,” the patient started, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before he began. “I’d spent all day putting in applications at random places; gas stations, stores, restaurants. Anything to bring some money in while I figured out what my next move should be. Do I work at my father’s firm like he’d always wanted? That sounded like being in Hell, but as long as going back to school and becoming a stripper were on the table, I couldn’t rule anything out. But, on the way home, I decided that I wanted to train to be an EMT, something where I’d still be helping people. Then, I remembered they don’t allow people with severe mental illness to do that job, so by the time I walked in the door, I was pretty messed up already.” The aggravation on his face turned to sorrow as he thought about his wife and what he’d seen when he entered the apartment that day. Tears began to swell in his eyes. And here he was, thinking he had no tears left in him. He did his best to settle the anger that had again built up in his chest before continuing. “I got home and she was gone. Her clothes, her books, her computer. The art from the walls, most of the dishes. Her stupid cartoon character pillow that I made fun of her for keeping even though it was old and dusty and smelled bad. All gone. She left a note. Who does that? Sixteen years together and she writes a note after leaving the place looking like the scene of a robbery.” He sighed heavily as his anger once again turned to sadness. “I must have read it ten times.”

  “Would you like to tell me what it said?” Dr. Stratford asked.

  “No, not really, but I will,” Wyatt told him, pulling the letter from his back pocket. “I expected you might want to hear it,” he said as he unfolded the paper. He cleared his throat and began to read.

  “Wyatt,

  I want to start by saying that I never thought I’d do this. You know I love you. Like, more than life. But your behavior gets more erratic every day. I watched you pull your own hair out in a fit because ‘the woman’s voice’ wouldn’t be quiet. Your night terrors keep me awake because I’m afraid you’ll hit me in your sleep. The final straw was when you broke the bathroom mirror in a rage fit because you didn’t recognize your own reflection. You’re on I don’t know how many pills and none of them seem to be working and the worst part is how helpless I feel. I want to be able to make things better for you, but I’m about as worthless as your prescriptions. The thing is, I want to have children. You know that. You must also know the reason why we’ve never tried to have any. Besides our kids potentially inheriting your disease, I just don’t trust that you’d be a safe person for a child to be around. I know that you’d never hurt me or a kid on purpose, but you have to admit, you’re dangerous. It’s not your fault and I’m not angry with you. You’re a good person and you deserve to have a normal life, which is why I think a stay at a treatment center is something you should consider. I don’t have the heart to commit you against your will, but, I’m begging you to get the help you need. Sadly, I don’t think you will, so, I have to think about my future. If I’m ever going to become a mother, I have to move on. I’m so sorry. -- Annie”

  He wiped the tears from his face and put the letter back in his pocket. As he gathered himself, he noticed that the doctor, too, had gotten misty.

  “You old softy,” Wyatt teased.

  The doctor gave a quiet laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said, dabbing his eyes with a tissue before offering one to his patient. “That’s inappropriate. I should be stoic and objective. But, I know how hard you’ve been working and what you’ve been through to make the progress you have. No matter how unflappable I should be here, that letter was a punch to the gut.”

  Wyatt was shocked. He’d never seen the doctor get emotional. He honestly didn’t think he cared that much. He watched as the therapist wrote something on a prescription pad, set it aside and put his glasses back on.

  “I’m not sure what ‘progress’ you’re talking about,” Wyatt said.

  “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” the doctor pointed out. “The Wyatt Sinclair I met two years ago would still be in a heap on the floor if his wife left him. Or worse. But, instead of wallowing or hurting yourself, you came here to talk. That’s progress.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do,” Dr. Stratford confirmed. “Now, how do you feel about your wife suggesting inpatient treatment? Had you discussed that with her before?”

  “A couple times,” Wyatt told him. “My dad locked me up in one of those places when I was in college. Senior year for three months. I almost didn’t graduate because of it. I think the only reason I got into law school was because he paid someone off.”

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “I have t
he records from your time at Clear View. The doctors there marked your diagnosis as ‘unchanged’ when you left.”

  “Yeah, the place was useless,” Wyatt stated. “That’s why I told Annie I’d never go back.”

  “How do you feel now?” the therapist inquired. “Do you think you need hospitalization?”

  He thought for a moment, admitting to himself that a stay in the loony bin probably wouldn’t hurt. It at least couldn’t make things any worse than they were now. But, he also had very little faith that one of those places could do him any real good.

  “I honestly don’t know,” he conceded. “I know I need something, that’s for goddamn sure.”

  “Let’s put a pin in it for now,” the therapist suggested. “The nightmares. Are you able to remember anything more about them?”

  “Not really,” Wyatt said. “It’s just the same old thing. People getting hurt, needing help and me saving them, somehow.”

  “But, you don’t know how.”

  “No.”

  “And you still can’t understand what the people in the dreams are saying to you?”

  “No. It sounds like they’re speaking Latin or Greek or something.”

  “But, you know they need your help?”

  “Yeah, they’re bleeding and screaming and crying. It’s chaos all around. Like a war zone.” Wyatt remembered.

  “But, you save them.”

  “Yes.”

  “Every time?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it’s important to you that you save people in your real life? Not just help them, but save their lives?”

  Wyatt hadn’t made the distinction before, but if he was being honest with himself, he supposed he really did love the feeling he got when he saved someone from certain death. Seeing the joy, relief and gratitude on the face of a person who not a minute before was sure they were about to die was maybe the only thing in Wyatt’s life that gave him any real sense of happiness.