God's Assassin

By George Naas

This is a book about good and evil and the human heart. It’s the story of two brothers, Horus and Seth, both gods of ancient Egypt. They have waged war against each other for centuries, from Kush (Sudan) to modern Iraq, and now they will clash in the final battle of Armageddon. Horus has been on the side of good, and under the orders of the Eternal Lord of Hosts, he’s brought evil to justice. His latest assignment is his own brother, the greatest evil the world has ever known. And caught in the middle is an American family who will play a vital role in the fate of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TWB Press
• Release date: May 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781936991549

George Naas

George S. Naas is a long-time Colorado resident who firmly believes that this book is the result of a supernatural inspiration. In 1997, as he lay in bed, frustrated with all the hate and death in the world, he prayed for a story idea. He woke up about 2 a.m. and immediately began writing about ancient Egypt, a topic he had no interest in writing about. He later checked the details he’d written about Egypt and found that they were true. As he wrote about Horus and Seth, a new character emerged, a woman who had died in 1947, someone he had no prior knowledge of. When he went looking for her, he found her tomb really did exist. He now claims that this book is only part of the work he must do for the Eternal Lord of Hosts.

Book preview

CHAPTER I

I lived in a duplex that I rented from Mrs. Thelma Bloom, a fifty-five-year-old widow. She had a seven-year-old granddaughter Sara, and a grandson named Joshua living with her. These days, it wasn’t uncommon for grandmothers to raise the children of their drug addicted daughters. Sara was a normal five-year-old, but Joshua was not a normal infant. He was a very sick child.

One day, Sara had asked me to have a tea party with her. She had received a plastic tea set for her birthday. Sitting in a rickety little chair at a little pink table, I watched her pour her cup of pretend tea and listened to her sweet voice say, Here is some tea for you, Horus, and here is some for me.

As I drank my cup of pretend tea, I came up with the idea of how I would reveal myself to Leroy Dissel. I would visit him in the form of an innocent child—whatever I imagined that I could become, I could physically become—so I would appear as a boy child, for after all, Leroy favored little boys.

Where better for a homicidal maniac to meet what he perceived to be an innocent seven-year-old boy than on a dusty country road during an unseasonably warm February afternoon. I walked along humming, It’s Written in the Stars by Aida. I loved that song—it reminded me of my homeland in Egypt. Leroy pulled up next to me in his 1977 rusted-green Datsun pickup. My immortal soul stirred with anticipation.

Until that moment I had never seen Leroy’s fat, ruddy face, complete with a phony smile and two yellow front teeth. As I gazed into his brown eyes, for a passing moment I thought that those eyes were asking for understanding of the wretched soul that he possessed for the forty-six years of his life. He’d get none of that from me.

I wandered over to the passenger side door of his truck. The window was rolled down. I noticed an open box of donuts on the seat. He offered me a donut and a can of pop if I’d help him find his lost puppy. I chuckled, got in, and closed the door.

What are you chuckling about? he asked me in a gruff voice.

Nothing. However, I thought about how his stomach would never finish digesting the donuts he had eaten. What time is it? I started munching on a donut with chocolate icing.

Can’t ya see the clock on the dashboard? It’s 10:27.

I decided that his death sentence would be carried out at 10:56. But I wasn’t sure how. Should I crush his head? Break his neck? No, that would be too quick and easy.

We drove about three-quarters of a mile before he pulled off the road behind some lilac bushes and down into a ravine where his truck could not be seen by passing motorists. Under a shade tree, four mounds of dirt lay in sun-dappled shadow. Leroy’s dumping grounds. I had found the missing bodies. Then I wondered why he had come here, so I turned in the seat to look out the back window of the cab. Sure enough, in the bed lay a small bundle wrapped in plastic. Victim number five. The donut I’d eaten went sour in my stomach.

He turned off the engine and then reached over, put his hand on my left thigh, and started rubbing it. You better be nice to me or I’m going to hurt you.

I glared at him. I think I will kill you for touching me. What do you think of that?

He clamped my thigh in his beefy grasp. You sure talk tough for a little kid.

My name is Horus. I’m over six thousand years old.

He laughed a guttural belly laugh.

The Eternal has sentenced you to death, so I’m here to carry out your execution.

His mouth dropped in astonishment. You’re full of shit, kid—I’m going to kill you. I’ll choke the life out of you. What do you think of that, you little bastard?

I decided to act afraid and glanced at the clock. The time was now 10:32. I had a brilliant idea to pass the time. Leroy had killed five kids, broken the hearts of five families, so what better way for him to leave this world but with a broken heart of his own. The manner of his death had been decided. I would crush his heart.

But first, with the speed of a viper, I grabbed his hair on the back of his head with my left hand and slammed his face into the steering wheel so hard that the wheel ring broke, along with his nose. Blood poured from his nostrils.

He yelped and let go of my thigh.

Air burbled out his bloody mouth, which was now minus those two yellow front teeth. They were lying on the floor by the gas pedal. I pinned his arms down with my left hand and slapped his face with my right hand. I hoped he’d feel insulted.

Speaking with a lisp, he shouted, What did you do that for?

I pinched his cheeks together and put my face in front of his. I’m God’s Assassin, you asshole, and I’m going to kill you very slowly—the way you murdered those little children.

No, please, he said, I tried to stop killing, but I can’t. Jesus, help me.

Well, you’re out of luck, Leroy. I don’t work for him. Besides, Jesus didn’t help your victims, now did he, when you murdered them? What makes you think he would help you? So don’t hold your breath waiting for him to stop me. Besides, I work for his dad. I’m sure neither will cry over your dead body. I promise you this, though, the pain will be excruciating as I rip out your evil soul and send it on its way to oblivion.

The big, bad child murder began to weep for his worthless life. Please. Please. I’m sorry. I won’t kill anymore.

The lying prick actually thought he could bullshit me by acting repentant. I wiped away tears rolling down his cheeks and decided to let him have a false ray of hope. I believe that you are sorry, so I’m going to give you a chance to live, Leroy, if you can beat me in a game of tic-tac-toe.

Yes. Yes, I can, he sobbed out. I’m good at that game.

Leroy loved tic-tac-toe. He played it with all the kids—before he murdered them.

Then let the game begin.

Shaking, he whimpered, I don’t have a pencil.

I slapped that ugly face of his. No, my friend. We are going to use my knife. I showed him an ancient stone knife I’d produced out of thin air. Immortal gods of Egypt could do that. And the truck’s cigarette lighter.

I don’t have any paper.

This was great fun for me, and exciting—the way a black widow spider must feel as she crosses her web to kill a fly that’s stuck and cannot escape. Watch closely, Leroy. I cut open his shirt with one swipe of my knife.

What are you doing? He had a tattoo in the center of his chest, a skull with a rose in its mouth.

Patience, I said and swiftly cut two vertical lines between his nipples, and then two horizontal lines across his chest, framing the skull.

He screamed in pain. Blood ran down his chest, cascaded over his paunch, and pooled in his lap.

He squirmed like a stuck pig, but my strength was beyond anything human. He started yelling, Oh, God. Oh, God.

I pushed the lighter into the socket to heat it up. I’ll make the first move.

I don’t want to play.

Too late, Leroy. The game has started. I took the hot lighter and shoved it into his flesh where the center square was framed in blood, giving the skull tattoo a third eye.

No. He screamed and jerked up his knees like he thought he could curl into a ball to protect is vulnerable center, but they slammed into the steering column. Stop, please stop.

I didn’t stop because he didn’t stop when those kids cried out for mercy. Your turn. I showed him the knife. Which square do you want?

He was breathing ten times faster than normal. Please.

Okay, I said, I’ll make your move for you.

No, center left. Center left.

My left or your left?

Your left.

I cut an X into the box to the left of my cigarette-lighter O. His flesh was soft—not muscular at all. He twitched back and forth. His screams were music to my ears.

I ran my index finger over the X and looked at his blood on my fingertip. Then I smeared the blood on his lips. My turn. I smiled.

He spit. No. I quit.

I heated up the cigarette lighter again. You deserve this for what you did.

How do you know what I did to those brats?

The Eternal was watching. He told me. He said you felt very powerful. Life or death was in your hands. You felt justified because you were treated badly as a child, abused by your own father. When you finally get caught, in the future, you’ll use that as a defense. You’ll blame your actions on your parents and get off with an insanity plea.

How do you know I’ll get caught? I’ll get off?

The Eternal knows everything.

The lighter popped out of the socket, ready, good and hot. I shoved it into the middle square at the bottom. He was screaming so loudly he could hardly hear me when I said, Your turn, stud.

Please don’t kill me. Let me go home.

But we haven’t completed our game yet.

All right. Upper center.

Nice block, Leroy. I cut another X into his flesh. He was screaming loud enough to wake the dead. So I followed up with a cigarette lighter burn to the lower left square. You’re screwed, Leroy. Pick carefully.

With a voice choking back terror, he managed, Lower right.

He’d blocked me again, but I had him now. I announced to Leroy that my next move would be to burn an O into the top right square and win the game.

No.

I held the lighter to his chest a little longer than necessary, inhaled the sweet scent of his burning flesh, and then took my knife and cut a deep diagonal gouge through my three Os. You lose, Leroy.

By now he was bleeding a lot. Somehow he conjured up the courage to look at me with hateful eyes. If you kill me, then you’re no better than me. You’ll be a murderer just like me.

You’re wrong, Leroy. Killing you is not murder. It’s justice. The world will be better off without the likes of you. The Eternal has decided that. The Lord of Hosts has spoken.

Fuck him, and fuck you too.

The clock changed to 10:56.

Time to die, Leroy. I waved the knife in his face, and it disappeared. It wouldn’t be needed in the final act.

Ghost children rose from the shallow graves and slowly approached the truck, lumbering forward like zombies, their plastic burial shrouds in tatters.

Hey, Leroy. Looks like you have a bon-farewell coming from your victims.

Bang! Bang! Bang! thundered from the ceiling. The dead child in the bed had risen to pound on the roof. The other dead children gathered around the hood, their small fists banging on the metal, making more noise than seemed possible.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Leroy screamed.

I lunged at him with the speed of a cobra and the strength of a lion and shoved my hand into his mouth and down his slimy throat.

All the time he was gagging and kicking. I let go of his arms. He grabbed my arm with both hands in a vain attempt to pull my hand out of his wide-open mouth. His eyes now had the same look of terror in them that he had seen in the eyes of his innocent victims.

He made choking noises as my fingers grew into falcon talons, sharp and deadly. His feet kicked the floorboards below the steering wheel. My talons tore through his esophagus and into his chest cavity where I wrapped them around his beating heart...and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. His heart squirmed like a rat I’d plucked from a sewer. With one final squeeze, talons pierced ventricles, the aorta popped, and I crushed his heart, easy as a ripe tomato.

Leroy quit kicking.

His soul took leave from his body and was now in the presence of the Eternal. At first Leroy’s soul thought he had been forgiven because the Eternal and Leroy’s victims floated no more than one foot away from him, all smiling. But with each passing moment, the distance between the Eternal and Leroy doubled. Leroy cried out for mercy, but the Eternal turned his back on him, and the holy light that surrounded the Eternal and His glorious paradise grew dimmer as the distance grew. Soon the light to Leroy appeared as only a pinpoint—like a distant star to the naked eye. Then the light winked out altogether, and Leroy’s soul was alone forever in the total darkness of oblivion.

All was silent in the pickup cab. The ghost children were gone. A vehicle churned up gravel as it drove down the road thirty yards from me. I extracted my hand from Leroy’s mouth and wiped the blood off on his shirt.

Looking at his corpse, I thought about the depraved things the pervert had done to those kids and how he would have gotten away with murdering them. Now Leroy won’t be serving time in a mental ward only to be released one day to begin his killing spree anew. Because of me, what I had done today, he would never kill another child.

I loved my job.

I got out of the truck and started walking home, thinking about Leroy’s mother. If she could only see him now. Woman, behold thy son. Her heart would be broken, too, as any mother would grieve for the loss of her child, good or bad mattered not. Justice wasn’t always good for everyone. Justice carried a brutal price tag.

I looked toward the Rocky Mountains where dark clouds were brewing, a cold front moving in from Canada. The unseasonably warm weather would soon be over. I knew the police would find Leroy’s corpse and the dead children before snow returned to Denver.

For now, it was a good day. Actually, in the last six thousand years, I’ve had thousands of good days. But my journey had been fraught with terrors most humans could never imagine.

CHAPTER II

When I got back to my duplex, I showered and lay down for a nap. I started thinking about my life and where I came from, why the Eternal had chosen me to rid the world of Leroy Dissels.

I was born in the small village of Critus on the banks of what would become the Omo River in the great Rift Valley of Ethiopia. I came from my mother Lilith’s womb when the Dog Star was in the embrace of the Southern Cross and the Draconian king ruled the night sky. The month and year in which I was born did not exist then, but the lunar god, Thoth, knew the true time of my birth.

My mother loved me very much. She called me her little Prince of the North. My mother was beautiful. Lilith had long red hair and emerald eyes. When I was very young I would stand beside a reed chair, and my mother would sit down in the chair and tell me her story.

She came from a beautiful garden where she and her husband, Adam, were created from the dust of the ground. At first, the garden was paradise, but she soon became resentful because she had to be subservient to Adam. The Eternal had decreed it that way. My mother argued that she and Adam were both created from the same dust, so they should be equal. If not, let Adam toil under her yoke instead. But God explained that she was created to bring forth children, and that made her special in her own right.

She was not appeased.

The Eternal knew that escape was in her heart, so He summoned an angel to watch over her. His name was Wach-el. He watched her every move. If she got too close to the boundary of the garden, he was always there to turn her back. Once she’d made to the edge of the Red Sea before he caught up with her. He’d drawn his sword and threatened to kill her if she didn’t return to the garden with him.

Lilith challenged him. If he killed her, then the Eternal would kill him for the sin of murder, but he countered that he was protected by the secret name of God in heaven and could not be killed. Intrigued by the power of this secret name, she asked him what it was. He said he would not tell her. So under fear of death, she returned to the garden with him, but soon devised a plan to get Wach-el to speak the name.

He would watch from the bushes while Adam satisfied his sexual urges on her. Adam would put his hands on her bare breasts and say, It is time for us to do the Lord’s work and begin to create children to praise his holy name.

In the morning, she would go to a beautiful pond and take a bath to wash off Adam’s seed so she would never give birth to any of his children. Wach-el would watch her bathe, his eyes filled with lustful desire. She’d invite him to join her. He would decline.

One day, temptation got the best of him. After much coaxing, he waded into the water. She swam to him, naked and alluring. You are so strong and powerful, no wonder the Eternal has made you the king of the angels.

He told her that he was not the king of the angels—that they were all the same rank.

That’s hard to believe. He put you in charge of keeping order in his garden. Isn’t that a big responsibility?

Wach-el turned away from her and got out of the water.

As she lay with Adam that night, she glanced up at the tree they were under and saw Wach-el staring down at her from the branches. Adam kept up his pious pumping and thrusting. She blew Wach-el a kiss, knowing he was jealous of Adam.

The next day, she told Wach-el she would lie with him if he would bring some fig wine to the meadow. She waited for him, surrounded by the rays of the morning sun. He brought the wine, and they drank the entire pot.

Wach-el, then drunk with wine, lay down on his back, his long blond hair covering part of his face. She brushed aside his hair. What is the Eternal’s secret name in heaven? You told me before, but I forgot.

I did not tell you.

She rubbed his manhood. Whisper it in my ear.

And with that, he whispered the name that would bring her freedom. She rewarded him to exhaustion.

Later, while Wach-el slept off the fig wine, she left the garden. Adam looked everywhere for her, and when he could not find her, he cried to the Eternal, The mate that you gave me is gone.

The Eternal awoke Wach-el and sent him to find her. She was sitting on the shore of the Red Sea. He came up behind her. You must return to the garden.

I will never go back, she screamed.

Wach-el drew his sword. Then I will kill you here.

Leave me, she shouted, or I will shout the Eternal’s secret name in heaven so loud it will echo off the canyon walls to the four corners of the earth. Every demon in the universe will have a powerful weapon to wage war against the Lord of Hosts.

Wach-el became sorely afraid, sheathed his sword, and departed.

The Eternal had been watching, and when Wach-el reported back that he could not find her, He grabbed the sword and sliced Wach-el’s tongue down the middle.

That you may never speak my secret name in heaven again.

Wach-el fell to his knees. God cut off Wach-el’s arms. He fell to his stomach.

That you may crawl on the ground forever, never to touch and feel and love with your hands but only to strike out at others with hate and death in your bite. The light of day will be abhorrent to you, and in darkness you will sulk with the demons of the night.

Wach-el slithered off into the bushes.

The Eternal made a deep sleep fall over Adam, and with Wach-el’s sword, He cut out a rib and fashioned a woman Adam would call Eve. And He decreed she would be subservient to Adam, as they were now not created equal.

Eve asked a question of God. What if Lilith should return to take back her rightful place in the garden?

I have banished her to a river valley in a land far away. She will not return.

Then what if, Eve pressed, any of her offspring should come to claim their rightful inheritance?

The Eternal thrust the sword into a tree trunk and declared it to be the Tree of Good and Evil. That none of Lilith’s offspring should ever return to lay claim to this garden, it is my command that every child she bears will not live past the age of four years.

My mother, by virtue of the secret name of God in heaven, became immortal on that day, but she would constantly crave the sexual attentions of mortal men.

My father was mortal. My mother loved him. I don’t know why. He would sit on his lazy ass while she and I worked in the fields, harvesting wild wheat and barley.

Mother would bake flatbread with dates. I loved her flatbread.

No matter how hard Mother and I worked, our yield of crops was never good enough for my father. He would beat her with a stick and pimp her out to his friends who came into the valley. One day when his belly was bloated with beer and he was sitting by the river, he called me to his side. I felt the sharp rocks under my feet as I walked over to him. He told me to bring him a stick so that he could beat my mother with it.

Why? I asked him.

For fun, he said and belched.

I hated my father. I left to find a stick. If I didn’t go back with a stick, I would be beaten worse than ever. I hated him for being so cruel. I rushed to the house to warn my mother. She was nowhere around. I saw the birthing stone she had squatted over when she gave birth to me. It was stained with dried blood that nearly blotted out the carving of Nan, my mother’s favorite fertility goddess. The stone was heavy and solid, and I made a decision to use it in a way it was not intended.

As I left with the stone, I glanced toward the fields, saw my mother in the distance, back bent and cutting stacks of wild grain with a wooden scythe. She didn’t deserve another beating.

My father was a beast. If he were alive today, he’d be locked up in jail for domestic violence. But back then, we had no such protection. Survival of the fittest. Kill or be killed.

I stalked up behind my father, raised the stone, and smashed him in the head.

He let out a moan and rolled over on his left side. Blood poured from a gash in his scalp and blinded him. He reached out for me in vain. I felt exhilaration come over me. Hope and freedom were only moments away. I smashed his head with the stone again. I hated him.

Father, I shouted. Should I get that stick now? I hit him again. I could use it to poke you like a dead snake.

I pushed his body into the Omo and watched him float away.

I was ten years old. It was the first really good day of my life.

Later, my mother asked me, Have you seen your father?

No, Mother. I wonder where he could be.

After a few weeks, Mother seemed to accept the fact that Father was gone. But we had no money, and Mother had to go to work being a whore. She would be so tired at night that she told me she could not go on another day. But she was immortal and had no choice. Trading her flesh for money was the only way to get what we needed to survive.

Mother became good at her profession. She soon bore my brother Seth.

I watched her walk bent over with both hands on her belly as she went down to the Omo River. Before long I heard screaming, and then the cry of a baby. By the time I made it to the river bank, she was cradling my newborn brother. Hidden in the reeds, I