Vassago sat in the driver’s seat of the Monte Carlo outside 1213 Country Club Dr. The Monte Carlo belonged to first year journalism student at Brown University named Spencer Truman. Truman no longer had a use for the Monte Carlo, so Vassago had no qualms in using it.
His long legs rested against the pedals, his bulky frame leaned back into the seat supporting his powerful arms crossed over his chest as he contemplated a discussion from earlier.
“Before you can return you’ll need to snuff him out.” Rubis said, his penetrating gaze never leaving Vassago’s. “You’ll never be a true player in the game until you do.”
“I know.” He had replied, his words containing an underlying bite. “The timing has to be perfect.”
“Anytime is perfect.” Rubis had begun.
“NO!” His words seeped venom, “the time will be perfect, I know what I am doing.”
Rubis only head his gaze before submitting to the den leader. “Very well, I suppose it is your gig anyway.”
Devlin failed to realize how important this night was going to be to a boy named Simon Morgan. Though Morgan technically still lived, he had been dead for over four years. Simon was resting within the pits of hell where Vassago dreamed to be.
Swinging the car door open Vassago stepped into the night. Tonight he would take the second biggest step in his descent.
The flames of four torches flicker against the walls of stone, shedding the most minuscule measure of light upon a tethered couple. They sit back to back in wooden chairs; their olfactory sense overwhelmed with the foulest of Mother Nature’s scents, with mold and mildews the least of their worries.
The man is rather stocky with a darker than tanned complexion. He has a pair of wire-rimmed classes placed crookedly across the bridge of his nose, his once finely trimmed goatee now a mass of black unshaven stubble. To his back, the woman is considerably shorter, with flowing hair the color of a raven.
Their names are Nebt-Het and Amun Nguyen. They are the biological parents of one Cleopatra Nagatti.
Four Years Ago
Andrew Morgan is a man of solid build, with short-cropped black hair. He is a respected man in the field of cardiovascular surgery and the leading practitioner in resuscitation medicine.
Dressed in his O.R. scrubs he paces the floor of the Desert Springs Hospital Medical Center. Twenty-three minutes out of surgery and still no new developments. Usually a resuscitation patient takes a half an hour to recover from surgery if the procedure was done right, still Andrew can’t quell his anxiety. He couldn’t lose the only family he had left.
Anxious to know anything he ceased his pacing and settled in front of the room’s lone window, glancing at the nurse in the room. It was routine for the nurse to remain in the room with a post-op resuscitation patient. They would monitor vitals, and look for any signs of life. Currently the nurse was checking Simon’s blood pressure with the arm cuff. At nearly the same time both Andrew and the nurse noted the movement in the fingers.
Andrew had to restrain himself from flying into the room, if the movement was anything voluntary the nurse would find out and report back to him. He watched as the nurse released the stethoscope and the cuff, Simon began to sit up in bed. Tubes ran from his arms, his face and his hands. A sense of panic overcame Simon as he thrashed away at the wires. Unable to restrain himself any further Andrew charged into the room to try and restrain his son.
The nurse backed away as Andrew held his son to the bed, after a moment Simon stopped and laid back in the hospital bed. His eyes seemed blank, and his expression empty. The nurse returned to the beside, Andrew glanced at the nametag to make a note of who was dealing with his son. Her name was Tami.
Tami laid a hand on Simon’s arm as Andrew stepped back. After another moment Simon began to look around the room.
“Hey, do you know who you are?” Tami asked the confused young Simon, who met her straight gaze with that same empty expression. “Can you hear me?” Tami probed further attempting a reaction.
Simon nodded his head indicating to his throat. Tami removed the oxygen mask and handed him a cup of water from the bedside tray. Simon drank from it greedily, directing the cool liquid down his dry throat with his withered tongue. Each lap of the water brought life back to his mouth and throat. Finally, after gulping down the fluids he returned the cup to Tami’s open hand, she returned it to the tray.
“Do you know who you are?” Tami repeated, and this time Simon responded.
“My name is Simon Morgan.” He replied, his voice a little hoarse from the operation. “What am I doing here?” he asked in a weak and pathetic voice.
Tami turned to Andrew and they’re gazes met. Sometimes resuscitation patients came back with mild memory loss, it appeared this was one of those times. Andrew’s shoulders fell slack as he pulled a chair up to his son; Tami catching the hint left the room. As the door closed behind her Andrew focused his attention on his only family left in the world.
“You were stabbed, by the same person who killed your mother and sister.” Andrew explained. “You were the only one I was able to save.”
Simon’s gaze fixed on his father, the first signs of emotion to cross his face. “They’re dead?”
Andrew nodded with tears welled up in his eyes. “They are.”
No other words needed to be exchanged as the two sat together in the hospital room father and son, grieving together. One grieved for a family lost, while the other grieved for the eternity denied him.
Cleopatra slowly slid the lid off from the casket and climbed from her shallow grave. Dusk was upon her; she could feel the presence of her twin sister and her beloved just beyond the brick walls of the warehouse. A grin crept across her face knowing that her sister would only expect her to be there. Cleo walked slowly out to the center of the warehouse where her parents were bound. Amun had fallen asleep but was awaken by a hard right hand to his jaw. He cried out in pain and this woke Nebt-Het.
Cleopatra cackled at the response of Amun sobbing. “It will only be a matter of time now father dear before your other daughter tries to free you. Her and her boyfriend is in for one hell of a surprise.”
Amun’s eyes went wide with terror wishing that he could warn Delylah of the dangers inside the warehouse. This trio of people was Demon Spawn and he knew that she had no chance of survival. Tears streamed down his cheeks as well as Nebt-Het’s. Cleopatra watched them with ever growing interest, the family that never wanted her waiting for the daughter they did.
When the conflict finally ended someone in this room would be dead. The odds were that it wasn’t going to be Cleopatra. In the background, the hulking figure of Devlin Rubis awaited, prepared to do whatever he had to.
Andrew Morgan (58) was found dead in his Desert Springs home late last night. Nevada State Police were called with an anonymous tip. Randall Williams was the officer on duty when the call came in. “There was blood everywhere.” Williams was quoted saying.
Morgan was a highly respected cardiovascular surgeon and a resident at Desert Springs Hospital Medical Center where he had begun Nevada’s leading center for resuscitation medicine. Morgan, some might remember suffered a devastating tragedy four years ago when he came home to find his wife, daughter and son dead.
Currently there are no leads on the investigation.