Venom of the Gods

By Sebastian Chase

Michael Spencer went to bed a loving father and husband; he awoke an immortal god.

They arrived from another dimension as friends, assisting humanity out of caves, but as time went on, humans began to fear and worship them. Some of the powerful entities nurtured this fear, while others fought against human enslavement. After a devastating war amongst themselves, the immortal creatures scattered and hid in the shadows of civilization. Until now...

Michael has awakened from a self-induced amnesia in modern day America. He wants nothing more than to be with his human family, but another of his kind has different plans—he wants Michael's help to rule the world. Michael refuses and finds himself in the middle of a conflict between the one that humans now call Satan, and the immortal's eccentric leader who claims to be God. The survival of humanity is at stake, and if Michael fails, not only will his family die, but the prophesized Armageddon will come to fruition.

From Bookviral.com:
"When it comes to originality it doesn’t get any better than Venom of the Gods, an unsettlingly dark debut fantasy novel from author Sebastian Chase that is sure to get tongues wagging. An imaginative telling that confidently eschews well-worn clichés, it is clever in its narration and decidedly graphic by design, with Chase masterfully weaving the required elements of drama and suspense that make for the most compelling reads. Essentially a reimagining of prevailing noir fiction and supernatural fantasy, Chase has looked to vampire and angel mythos for his inspiration. Creating characters that resonate with bloody luminosity, he combines the best aspects of action-orientated thrillers with the supernatural and the result is a chilling tale that will linger long after the last page is turned. This alone is a reason to start reading, but it is the authenticity with which Chase imbues Michael that ultimately makes the grade. Creating a truly original and compelling protagonist. With an intelligent and competently executed plot, Venom of the Gods is a hugely entertaining read that bodes well for future releases from author Sebastian Chase. It is highly recommended!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sebastian Chase
• Release date: Nov 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310121326

Sebastian Chase

Sebastian Chase is a Navy Veteran, former programmer, and surgical technician. He has written for enjoyment for several decades starting with short stories and poetry, which evolved into lyrics for local bands. He grew up in a military family, which led to extensive world travel, including living for two years in Iran when relations were better with the United States. He has also toured Western Europe, Eastern Ukraine, Iraq, and the United Arab Emirates. Stateside, he grew up in Virginia, California, and Washington State. He now calls Denver, Colorado home where he lives with his wife and son in the shadows of the beautiful Rocky Mountains.

Book preview

Chapter 1

In darkness, I woke with a start and gasped for breath that would not come. My mouth opened and closed, trying to pull in life-giving oxygen. I wanted to scream, hoping to wake my wife, but only a raspy hiss escaped that failed to stir her. I willed my body to move, even just the wiggle of a finger would bring comfort, but it refused to cooperate.

Defeated, I lay there paralyzed; stunned by a silence so intense that I thought I had gone deaf. There was no familiar beating in my chest, and no surge of blood in my ears. Am I dead, I wondered. But if I were dead, then how could I move my eyes? I could see the faint blue light from the bedside clock casting shadows on the wall. I looked around and felt some relief that everything appeared normal. Maybe I was experiencing one of those half-awake dreams that caused sleep paralysis. It had to be. I hoped.

I heard the sound of a car passing by outside, and that gave me a surge of relief. I was not deaf. I tried to move my toes, but I couldn't feel them, although I did feel the bedroom growing hotter. Insanely hot actually. I tried to remember if I had turned the air conditioner on before coming to bed, but then realized that the heat I felt was beyond natural. It grew so hot that I should have been drenched in sweat, but not a drop escaped my pores. At any moment, I was sure that I would burst into flames.

A fire? God, it's a fire and I can't move! Sara! Wake up! Wake up!

Rapidly, the heat grew intolerable but flames failed to emerge. Confused, I tried to pull the blankets off, but still my body would not cooperate. Surrendering to fate, I relaxed, but then a flash of bright light startled me. The flash wasn't in the room, but behind my eyes, in my brain. It came again, and with it, my body twitched.

I'm waking up! Yes!

The flashes started coming fast, like a strobe light. My eyes rolled back in their sockets, and I faded into either unconsciousness or, more likely, some sort of seizure.

I awoke still in darkness. I could have been gone for a few seconds or a few hours, I didn't know. What I did know was that I could now move, but more importantly, I remembered who I was. The realization scared me more than the paralysis had. I rolled over and looked at my still-sleeping wife. So innocent, so unaware of the beast she had shared her bed with for all these years. Things would get complicated. They always did.

I lifted the covers off and eased myself out of bed. Sara appeared lost in a dream, her eyes rapidly moving under their lids. I left the room, closing the door softly, and made my way through the dark hallway and down the stairs. The darkness wasn't a problem, because my eyes were no longer bound by human limitations, nor was my body. I slipped out the backdoor and into the coolness of the night.

My mind reeled with the ramifications of my awakening as I stared up at the dark sky. How could I tell Sara? What would her reaction be? I was kidding myself, because I knew what her reaction would be. Scream and then run. I've seen it so many times before. Then there was our daughter, adopted of course, because I was unable to father children—especially not the human kind.

I had drank my last bottle of amnesia-inducing potion in the 1940s, and now the memories flooded back, but I ignored them because I was growing hungry—so very hungry.

Living as a human, energy use is miniscule, but in my natural form, I must feed daily. If not, I grow weak, ill tempered, and eventually go into a catatonic-like state. This lasts until some unsuspecting victim comes close and my instinctual hunger snaps them up like one of those bug-eating plants. In centuries past, it was common for my kind to feed on close friends or relatives to stave off the catatonia. I swore off relatives a long time ago, and so far haven't broken that resolution. So far, but I knew that I was dangerously starved after decades of animal flesh for sustenance, and fresh human blood slept just a few steps away.

I tried to pull myself together. Pain gnawed at my being that a bag of peanuts would no longer quench. I grabbed the back of a metal porch chair to steady myself, and squeezed my eyes shut hoping to gain control. It was no use. My eyes flew open, and I knew the irises were a catlike golden-yellow with black vertical slits for pupils. The teeth came next, more like a rattlesnake's fangs than traditional doglike canines. I gripped the back of the chair hard and it snapped.

Food! I need food now. Sara is upstairs sleeping, maybe just a little… No! I killed the thought.

I ripped the backdoor open and went straight for the refrigerator. Inside sat a bloody treat of raw steak that I was marinating for the grill. I grabbed the dish, plopped down on the kitchen floor, and tore the plastic wrap off. It wasn't live meat or human blood, but it would be enough to keep me going until I figured things out. I picked up one of the dripping red sirloins and bit into its moist flesh. So damn good. Uncontrollably I feasted, and before I knew it, a second steak was in my hands. I wiped blood and marinade off my chin and dug in once more. Then the lights came on.

Mike? What are you doing? Sara asked from the kitchen entrance. I looked over my shoulder and stared at her for a second, my instincts urging attack. Her mouth dropped open.

Hi, honey, I said, acting like eating bloody steak on the kitchen floor was perfectly normal. She didn't buy it. She screamed and ran for the front door. I flashed past her and arrived first, steak still in hand.

Get away from me! she yelled.

Sara, please. I can explain. She looked at my bloodstained face and then down to the steak in my hand, eyes full of terror.

You're a monster! She backed up a few steps, and I walked forward.

No, it's me. Your husband. I promise I'm not going to hurt you. Unless I'm starving, I reminded myself, which I was close to being. Not thinking, I took a big bite out of the steak. She yelled a profanity and ran for the back door. Again, I was there first.

Let me leave! she screamed.

Sara, remember when Lori fell off her bike and scraped her knee? You wanted to call an ambulance and thought it was the end of the world. This is sort of like that…nothing to panic over. I smiled, exposing blood-covered fangs. She didn't like that. She passed out, but I was quick enough to drop the steak and catch her before she hit the floor.

I realized that I had lost control and let the hunger get the best of me. I put away the fangs, washed up, and laid her on the couch. I sat and waited for her to wake, feeling very nervous about how that would go.

Dad? I looked up to see Lori, our fifteen-year-old daughter, come in. She was sleepy-eyed but alert. I heard screaming. Is Mom okay? She glanced at Sara on the couch.

Hi, sweetie. She's fine. I scared her…accidentally of course. My daughter looked down at the rest of the meat lying on the floor, and then looked at me.

Why is that there? she asked.

Realizing that I couldn't hide this from her either, I patted the couch. Come, sit down. I have something to tell you both. My wife stirred as she started to wake. Lori sat down next to me, looking at her mother with concern but not anxiety. Lori was smart for her age, and mature, but she was still a teenager. I worried how she would handle the news. She put her head on my shoulder just as Sara's eyes fluttered open.

Your muscles are huge. Lori said, watching her mom come fully awake. Have you been working out?

Sara began to sit up, and then remembrance donned on her face. Get away from him! she yelled.

What? Lori was confused.

Get away from him! He'll hurt you!

Mom, did you have a nightmare? Lori put an arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek. I suspected that I had always been her favorite parent, but of course never vocalized such a thought. It's just Dad. Sara paused and looked hard at me. I smiled, but this time without the bloody fangs.

You can't trick me. I know what I saw, Sara said, and then glanced to the kitchen. Ah-ha! The dish is still on the floor. It wasn't a dream! I scolded myself for not putting the pan in the sink after cleaning myself up.

Sara, I said in the most soothing voice I could find. I'm not trying to trick you. I want to tell you the truth. I couldn't hide it if I wanted to.

You had fangs, and your eyes…you're a vampire! she stated. Lori rolled her eyes.

Yes, you could call me that, although it's not the term I prefer. There, the truth was out; let the chips fall where they may.

I knew it! Sara exclaimed. Lori picked her head off my shoulder and looked at me.

Is this some kind of joke, Dad?

No.

Show me your fangs then, Lori demanded.

No! Sara blurted.

Come on, Mom. If it is a joke, this will prove it, if not, well…I don't think your husband, my dad, will eat us. Not tonight anyway. She smirked, waiting for the joke to fall apart. My eyes turned and then my fangs popped out not six inches from her face.

Holy shit, my daughter said. It was the first time I had heard her swear.

Watch your language, young lady, I reprimanded. She paid my fatherly advice no attention and instead lifted her hand towards my mouth in fascination.

Lori, don't, Sara said, trying to get up, but much too slow. Lori's finger touched a fang.

Ouch! my daughter cried, yanking her hand back and looking at the pricked finger. Blood trickled out, and with each precious drop, a burning hunger tempted me.

Just a lick, just one little lick for Daddy?

Mike! Sara yelled.

All I could see was the red finger now going towards Lori's mouth. Here, let me do that for you, darling.

Mike! Sara tried to whack me upside the head, but I grabbed her wrist before impact, while still watching the finger enter Lori's mouth.

No, don't waste it. Give it to me.

It's okay, Mom. He won't hurt me. Will you? She pulled the finger out. There, nothing to worry about. Just a pinprick. All better. She tried to sound in control, but I heard the fear in her voice, and smelled it as well.

Just coming out of the equivalent of a human coma, this was too much for me. I knew that if I didn't leave, they could die, and I would just move on to the next victim when the guilt passed. Eventually, it always does. I released my wife's wrist.

Sara, Lori, I think it would be best if I…

No, you can't leave! Lori interrupted.

How did you know that's what I was going to say?

Because I know you, and you want to protect me. You must stay. You need us more than ever now.

This isn't a movie, Lori, Sara interjected. He wanted your blood. I saw the look in his eyes.

He's just hungry. You're not dangerous. Right? She looked at me with those big brown eyes that used to get the last cookie out of me, or a later bedtime, or anything she wanted really. Now she wanted me to stay. It would be best not to, but how could I refuse those eyes?

Of course I'd never hurt you, pumpkin. I stroked her hair while Sara cringed. I looked at my wife. Nor you either. She didn't look convinced.

Can you tell us how this happened to you? Lori asked. How old are you? How many people have you…killed?

It's five in the morning, and your mom doesn't look in the mood for stories, I said, wanting more than anything to get back to a juicy hunk of meat.

Oh no, Sara said. I just found out my husband is a murderous, blood-sucking, dead demon. I'd actually love to know how I married something like that. Her sarcasm hurt, but was understandable.

Okay then, but I must eat more raw meat, and I'm not dead, Sara, just different. More extra-terrestrial than horror monster.

Sara was about to say some more unkind words when Lori spoke up, I'll set the table for you. We need to work on your manners, though. Eating on the floor? Really?

My daughter got up and started thawing meats, while Sara's eyes warned me that I didn't have long left in my home. I loved her, but I also wanted to bury my fangs in her. In that sense, our marriage was pretty typical.

Chapter 2

The chicken liver really is a nice touch, I said to Lori. She watched me eat with wonder. The three of us sat at the dining room table and I couldn't help but notice a look of disgust on my wife's face. I'd offer you some, but I'm sure that wouldn't go over well. Do you want me to get you something else? I asked her, hoping to break through the wall.

Watching you makes me never want to eat again. What happens if you get sick from the raw meat? I cut a piece of bloody steak off with a knife, forked it, and then decided to add some gelatinous chicken liver to the mouthful. Disgusting, she commented, looking away.

I savored the surprisingly good combination for a moment before responding, I won't get sick. Nice to see you still have some concern. Actually, that is a good place to start. When's the last time you saw me sick? I had never been sick, not even so much as an allergy related sneeze.

I don't know, she paused. I don't think I've ever even seen you get a cut or go to the doctor for a shot now that I think about it.

I laid my hands on the table, enjoying the blood flowing from the meat in my mouth. Out of nowhere, Sara picked up the steak knife and stabbed me in the hand. I could have stopped her, but she required proof. The blade bent and she cowered back, expecting repercussions.

Honey, that was a perfectly good knife, I said.

I'll get another one, Lori offered in a voice that contained both amusement and amazement. She stood and went to the silverware drawer.

I'm sorry. I just had to see. This is insane.

Next time you want to stab me, please ask. My daughter came back and handed me the utensil.

So how old are you? she asked while taking her seat. Two hundred? Five hundred?

First, to your mom's question about getting sick, I began. Human diseases don't affect this body because it is mostly comprised of matter alien to Earth.

You're from another planet? Lori asked.

Not exactly, but close. I smiled and saw the look of ewe. I should remember not to smile while feeding. At one time, hundreds of my kind existed on Earth. We came out of curiosity at first, and saw how beautiful the planet was, but we couldn't enjoy that beauty.

Why not?

Our species evolved not on another planet, but in another dimension. We were energy-based beings, not flesh and blood as you are.

Like spirits? Lori was curious, but Sara had her arms folded and lips clamped shut, probably thinking, I don't care, just hurry and get the hell out. I continued, despite her.

Sort of, I guess. You may have heard that the Universe is composed mostly of what your scientists call dark matter and dark energy. Within this environment is a hidden dimension, which is where we evolved. One of our scientists, for lack of a better word, somehow merged dark matter with elements found on Earth. He also infused that combination with modified DNA from a variety of species. The glue that holds this creation together is the dark energy of our true bodies. When living blood contacts what I'm made of, the reaction creates energy hundreds of times greater than what the human body uses. This gives us certain powers that humans perceive as incredible. It's really simplified, but does it make sense?

Yeah. So how old are you? How long ago did you arrive here? Lori asked.

Around ten-thousand years ago. I was one of the first.

What! You're ten-thousand years old? My daughter's voice had taken on a hushed awe.

This body is, yes. Give or take a thousand.

This is ridiculous, Sara said. I looked at her, and made sure to swallow and clean my teeth with my tongue before I spoke.

Well, the birth process of humans would sound pretty far fetched to me also, if I hadn't seen it for myself. Look, this is hard for me, too. I really did not remember what I was until a little while ago. Please, try to understand. I'm still your husband, not a monster.

Dad, why didn't you know what you were all these years, and how did you start feeding on blood in the first place? She pulled her long brown hair behind her shoulders, and then settled in like she had so many years ago in anticipation of an adventurous bedtime story.

Initially, we helped humans evolve through a good working relationship, and we taught them a lot. Things were good, but then they developed an infatuation with our powers, and many started idolizing us. People like the Mayans, Egyptians, Greeks and others, really went overboard. Many of us became gods to humans, and some of us liked that and even nurtured it. At the same time, the bodies we had created began to evolve on their own, and started requiring extraordinary amounts of living energy. Animal blood and raw meat sufficed in the beginning, but soon the body adapted a taste for more nutrient rich human blood. Before long, only human blood supplied sufficient energy; hence, the bloodletting sacrifices of many ancient cultures. They were not trying to please us, but to appease us.

You were so smart to create the bodies, why not just fix them? Lori asked some tough questions.

We tried, but the process presented difficulties that caused some nasty side-effects. Mutations occurred—

You're demons, the cohorts of Satan who fell to Earth, Sara interrupted.

I never knew you were so religious, but yes, that story does have origins in the mutations that occurred. I poked the last piece of meat into my mouth and savored it.

Dad, you still haven't said why you didn't know who you were.

Getting there. I took a sip of water to clean out any offending relics. After humans realized that we weren't gods, they began to fight back. By then our thirst for blood had become so insatiable that people gave us the demon image that your mom seems to like. Many of my species did enjoy this reputation, but others of us fought against it. We split, and joined ranks with human factions. Even though they despised us, humans needed us because the only way to kill me is with the claws or fangs of another like me. The Crusades were the peak, and very few of us remained afterwards.

But I thought vampires are controlled with garlic and killed with wooden stakes? Lori asked. I laughed, remembering an aspiring writer destined to become legendary thanks to an incident witnessed.

I guess Abraham had to embellish since writing a story about an indestructible foe would be too predictable. Sort of like Superman requiring kryptonite, I said.

Abraham? Lori asked.

Sorry. Bram Stoker. He had a run-in with one of my kind from my understanding.

Oh, so now you're the stuff of legend. My beloved wife wasn't making things easy.

"Your history books, religious texts, and fairytales are riddled with our deeds."

Gosh, Mike, what would we have done without you, she replied sarcastically.

Mom, Dad, just stop it. Lori's eyes scolded us both. So after the Crusades?

I looked at my wife hoping for peace, but had to relinquish under the weight of her hateful glare. I turned to Lori and found a welcoming heart.

Well, for hundreds of years after the worse was over, I began. Many of my kind lived in the shadows and under cover of darkness. It wasn't in fear of humans, but of running across another capable of ending their lives; someone like me, a hunter of those who enslaved humans. There were probably only ten or so left by then, and some had hid for so long that their bodies adapted and developed sensitivity to light. Thankfully, I wasn't one of them. Sun doesn't bother me.

Too bad. I was going to get you a nice sun lamp for your birthday, Sara sneered.

You've always been such a sweetheart, I replied. So by the 1500s, I was no longer running into my kind anywhere, and even our enigmatic creator appeared to have vanished.

So…you're like the last vampire? Lori stared at me.

Vampire? That's such a harsh term. But no, I knew I wasn't the last as rumors of people drained of blood at night existed in several countries. Lucky for me I befriended a man in France named Michel de Nostradame, a prominent physician at the time.

Nostradamus? Lori asked.

Yes, the very same. Through his mysterious ways, he informed me that my brethren were in hiding because they had heard of my desire to exterminate them. He offered to help me, but in exchange, he required my help to cure plague victims. He wanted my venom, which has healing properties.

Now little Mikey cures the plague. You really should write a book, Sara sneered.

Maybe I will. I scowled back at her. Anyway, in return, Nostradamus created a potion that would let me live invisible amongst society. He gave me seven vials, each lasting about seventy-five years. During the time I was on it, the hope was that the remaining devils amongst us would surface and I could dispatch them when I awoke. The most recent awakening was this morning.

See, you are a devil. Sara smiled at her wit.

Seven vials? Like the Seven Seals of the bible? Lori asked excited, ignoring her mother.

I never thought of that, but I doubt it's related. The seventh vial was lost.

How was it lost? Lori asked.

I stored it in a safe deposit box in a French bank. The Germans blew the place to bits in the second world war.

Oh no, Lori said.

Nice, so you will be a bloodsucker forever. Wonderful.

Sara, please. I just wanted her to understand, but was near the ropes end. I wished desperately that I had more of the potion on hand, and everything could go back to normal. Somehow, I had to recreate it.

I hope you can find an apartment by the end of the day, Sara stated. There's no way I'm sleeping under the same roof with you.

Honey, give me a chance.

Don't call me honey! You need to move out. I can't take this! She started to cry. I went to put my arm around her, but she shrugged it off.

Mom, don't do this. Let him stay, for me.

No! I don't want to wake up one morning to find my husband sucking the life out of you! Sara stood and glared at me. "Pack whatever you need and find a place today." With that, she stormed out, leaving me to stare at Lori in silence.

Are you going to work? Lori asked after a few moments.

I need to. We have a new server coming in today that I have to set up.

Maybe I could talk to her?

No, she's right. She needs some time, and then she might come around. Right now, she's just afraid and can't think straight.

I'm not afraid.

Then you're naïve my dear. What I am even scares me sometimes. I'll text you tonight, once I find a place to stay. Sorry about this. I stood, picked up my dish, and started walking to the sink. Lori rose, planted herself in my path, and looked deep into my eyes.

Can you make me like you? she asked. Why did they always ask that? Is it so romantic to be a hated killer who survives by cannibalism?

No. All I can do is make you dead. This isn't a movie. I stepped around her and dropped the dishes into the sink. She came up behind me.

Please. I know you can do it.

I whipped around. I can't! She cringed. The second my fangs pierce your skin they emit a toxin. They're hollow, like a snake's fang. The toxin will paralyze you, but make you feel like you're in heaven. It'll speed your heart up near the point of bursting so I can get my meal quicker. I can drain you in less than a minute, and once I start, it's very hard to stop. If I could stop and leave you with enough blood to live, you'd still be you afterwards, minus a few liters and a whole lot of respect for me. I took a deep breath. I'm sorry for yelling, but I can't, Lori. It's not possible.

Okay. I’m sorry, too. Her eyes dropped, disappointed.

We'll get through this. I promise. Go get ready for school, and I'll text you later. I kissed her on the forehead and watched her walk away. This would be hardest on her. We had adopted her ten years earlier, when she was just a rambunctious-but-lonely five-year old that was taken away from a mother who often traded food stamps for heroin. Thank God we rescued Lori before she had been traded, but once again, her family was falling apart around her. I had to fix this.

As I turned back to the sink to rinse the remains of my steak tartare off, my ears caught the sound of a voice. I have exceptional hearing that rivals the most sensitive instruments used by law enforcement. It was my wife talking, but since she was upstairs, it was hard to make out what she was saying or to whom she could be talking. I walked to the bottom of the stairs to gain more clarity.

Yes, he's really lost it. He thinks he's a vampire! She paused, and I expected to hear Lori's voice in reply, but it never came.

I know, it's perfect! He's moving out today, and I'll call a lawyer today, too. She was on the phone, and what her words implied stunned me. What was perfect, and why did it sound like divorce was already impending?

I can't wait either. I'm sorry for calling so early, but I had to tell you. Pause, and then the hammer fell. "I love you too, Mitch."

I stood there, frozen like a stoic statue from a bygone era. I should have ripped her throat out earlier. There's still time… Mitch-fucking-Johnson, my drinking and golf buddy for over two decades. My fucking best man at our wedding was now my wife's best fucking man, literally.

I grabbed hold of the stair banister, unsure of what I would do next. My fangs snapped out, my eyes went evil. I took a step up, her words still ringing in my ears. I love you too, Mitch. I took a couple more steps. Her throat, my mouth; end of problem. She would like it that way. Business as usual. Bite me, Mike, bite me hard! Did she scream that to Mitch?

I didn't want her blood; she disgusted me now. Instead, I would rip my lethal claws down her back and shred her porcelain skin. After that, I wanted to rake them across her stomach—where Mitch undoubtedly caressed—and work my way into her and yank out her insides. Yes, pain and lots of it. I began my rush up the stairs, about to go sadistically ballistic, but was forced into an abrupt stop.

Dad? Lori stood at the top, looking down at me with confusion. What are you doing?

Nothing! Move! I'm about to kill your mother.

What's wrong, Dad? She was worried, and she was about to lose mother number two because some asshole dipped his stick where he shouldn't have. Lori didn't deserve that, no matter how much of a whore Sara had been. Deflated, I returned to normal.

Nothing's wrong. Just have to get ready for work.

Why were you…?

I said I'm fine. Hurry or you'll miss the bus. Excuse me. I slid past her and into the master bedroom.

I almost turned into my darker self again when I saw Sara. Her hand was pulling away from the cell phone she had just sat down. She began to primp and retouch her hair and makeup in search of that elusive perfect look. I understood whom she was trying to get that look for now. I held myself in check for my daughter. I went to the closet and dressed into a casual business suit, and then grabbed a gym bag and threw some clothes into it. By the time I came out, she was heading for the bedroom door, already late for work.

I'm going to call Mitch and see if I can stay with him for awhile, I said, just as she was about to exit. She stopped dead in her tracks.

Oh? A hint of worry in her voice.

Yeah, he's always been there for me. He's such a good friend. Isn't he?

Well, yes.

I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

You can ask him.

"I will. You have a good day at work, honey." She walked out, not responding. Bitch.

For the past two years, she had been this way—cold and businesslike. That's probably how long her and Mitch had been hooking up, too. I couldn't help but wonder how sex between two accountants would be. A vision of rubbing two cold and wet sticks together trying to start a fire passed through my head. And they think I'm dead.

With just a gym bag of clothes, I walked out, not realizing that I was leaving this life behind forever.

Chapter 3

I pulled into the factory's parking lot feeling the usual disgust that I had developed three months before, despite having returned to my immortal self. It occurred to me that work was a lot like marriage in that it either takes a conscious effort to keep things exciting, or the courage to get out when it sours. That I had failed at both of these relationships indicated that I was a feeble human being who lacked any courage whatsoever. While I wanted to continue living my human life, things would be different now.

The problems at work stemmed from the new plant manager, Son of Satan, as I thought of him. I had ironically created the name before remembering who the real Satan of the world was, but perhaps some part of me remembered my ancient foe. The plant manager, Jack (AKA Son of Satan), had made a deal with the Devil (the company's president) to step up from his floor-supervisory position and into a plush office when the old plant manager was conveniently canned—framed according to many. The former manager was great, but great doesn't cut it in the corporate world, results do, even when they're loaded with bullshit.

After the first month's numbers turned out not so great for Jack, he told me to make them look better. Being the only IT person in a manufacturing facility has few advantages, but lots of disadvantages. Give me or I'll shit on you was a common demand.

Turn some overtime into regular hours, he had said. Or condense the six-day work week for production into five on paper. Yeah, that will look great then. His heavy jowls flapped up and down like a loose-skinned hound dog.

I can't do that, I replied.

Yes you can, and you will.

It's against ethics.

I'm the goddamn boss here.

You are, of the factory, but my boss is the CFO at headquarters, which is to prevent things just like this. Sorry.

I saw his lips prepare to say fuck you, but he stopped and just glared with those I'll-show-you-eyes. He turned and I received the unpleasant view of what the factory workers had dubbed beetle-butt depart my office. While I dislike such body-based cruelty, I was amazed that it really did resemble the curves of the famous German car.

I understood that by standing up to him, I had slid out onto thin ice, but that was supposed to be my job according to government regulations. Slide out onto the slippery surface and Uncle Sam is supposed to protect you, but Uncle Sam usually isn't around when someone gets pushed through a hole in the ice. Our good uncle and his friends are usually off fishing in some other hole, perhaps discovered while hiking on the Appalachian Trail on the way to Argentina.

Feeling less motivated than a video-game playing teenager, I got out of the car and stepped into the warming sun. The curving sidewalk meandered through expansive landscaping rivaling any park, but at its end, all pretenses of relaxation abruptly ceased. Upon reaching the double doors, I took a deep breath and entered—welcome to Hell. Cathy, the receptionist, was there waiting for me.

You're a few minutes late, she said.

Good morning to you, too, I replied.

Umm, your favorite plant manager has been waiting for you. He needs your assistance and, to give you heads up, he wants you to be here a little earlier in the morning. His words, not mine. Sorry. You look a little pale. Are you okay?

I always seem to turn pale just before stepping through these doors. You don't look so good yourself. She appeared even paler than I imagined myself to be after not feeding for decades, and had dark circles under her red, puffy eyes. I assumed she was