The Intern, Part 2
The man in the white coat approached Andrew. “I’m Dr. Ben Matthews. Unfortunately, the prognosis isn’t favorable, but we are trying to figure it out.”
Andrew shot out of his chair. Trevor followed suit, his heart raced. Oh God. First Allan, now Richard’s going to die.
“What do you mean, the prognosis isn’t good? What’s wrong with my brother?” Andrew demanded. A tic in his left cheek vibrated furiously. “Why don’t you know anything?”
“You need to trust that we are doing everything we can for Richard.” Dr. Matthew said.
Amidst the exchange, Trevor glanced at Andrew and took in his expression. It told him Andrew didn’t trust the doctor. Richard would not make it. The churning in his stomach worsened, and he felt he was going to hurl any minute.
The doctor exited, Trevor and Andrew stood silent for the next few minutes. They didn’t make eye contact, each lost in their thoughts. Trevor didn’t know what to say as a Tornado of emotions whirled in his head—none of what he thought seemed to fit the situation.
“Hey, Andrew,” Trevor to figure out what to do. Trevor continued, “I’m going to return to the University and try to get some work done. Let me know if there are any updates.”
“No, I get it. I’m not sure what to do myself.” Andrew locked eyes with Trevor. “Tell me the truth. Do you believe the doctor?”
“No, I don’t. Richard got sick too quick.” It was Trevor’s turn to look at his feet while he debated what to tell Andrew about Allan’s death. It could be a coincidence; the information could make the situation worse. He decided against it, “I don’t think they know what’s wrong with him, and they’re just covering their asses.”
Andrew nodded. “I’ll let you know if anything changes. Thanks for being honest.”
The entire conversation felt surreal, and Trevor thought it wasn’t him answering. He heard himself saying the words, but somebody different was speaking through him.
“Yeah, you’re welcome.” That sounded tried. His mind had switched gears. First, Allan and then Richard caught a mysterious illness, and both work at Nassar’s lab. It was time to have a chat with the good doctor.
Driving to the University, Trevor’s mind flashed to a call from Allan. He worked on a private project for Nassar, and although he didn’t tell Trevor anything, he hinted it was a find of a lifetime. They talked around the topic for an hour, but Allan kept whatever he did for Nassar to himself.
Alan coughed through most of the conversation. But one thing stood out: He was excited about the project. As Allan’s symptoms got worse, Trevor constantly told him to get help, go to the clinic for that cough; but he didn’t and now he was dead.
Trevor entered the library and walked toward Dr. Nassar. She sat at the antique cherrywood desk, poring over an ancient-looking manuscript. Upon seeing Trevor, she dropped the manuscript on the table and folded her hands. “How is Richard doing?”
“He’s dying from whatever killed Allan.” He told her. “Do you know what they were working on? Are we in danger?”
One of Nassar’s perfectly styled eyebrows raised. “I admit, Allan and Richard worked on a particular project, but in no way, shape, or form is it the cause of them becoming ill and dying.”
“Then how did they get the same illness? The only common denominator is the lab!”
“Well, if you want to see what they’re working on, meet me at my place, and I’ll show you.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you. But it’s a significant coincidence that both Richard and Allan got sick with the same disease while working on the same project. If we can determine what made them sick, we can let the doctor know, and maybe they can find a cure.”
“I understand your concern. How about you come by at 8 p.m.? Here is my address,” Nassar slid a slip of paper across the table to him.
Trevor picked it up, glanced at the address, and folded it before placing it in his wallet. He concentrated on the work, caught up on emails, filed paperwork, and cataloged relics. Hours flew by. He stretched his limbs, grabbed some coffee, and walked to the window. The sky was blanketed with brilliant fingers of lavender, purple, and black that erased the yellows and oranges of the sun. Trevor peered at his watch and noticed it was almost 8 p.m., and there was no sign of the good doctor.
He locked up the lab and hurried out of the University. Fifteen minutes later, Trevor stood before a pale tan adobe-style house with a roof made of Terracotta tiles. It blended well with the neighborhood. He strolled to the door and knocked. The door opened almost immediately. Dr. Nassar greeted him in a form-fitting dress and looked especially beautiful. A long slit on the left side revealed a naked leg from ankle to thigh. Trevor felt his mouth dry, unable to take his eyes away from all that bare flesh.
Part of his brain tried to break the stupor in his head. It was wrong that his professor had greeted him in a sexy dress. His mind screamed danger, but his body ignored the warnings, and before he could stop himself, Trevor accepted her invitation and entered the house. He half-heartedly resists as a faint struggle ensues in his head. A loud voice repeated, Why bother fighting? You always hoped Nassar was interested in you? The other half argued back. Your friends are dead! And the doctor had something to do with it.
“Please take a seat while I get us something to drink.” She turned to the bar, poured them champagne, and handed him a glass. The hairs on his neck stood to attention, and he felt a heaviness in the air.
Leave. Get Out Now!
She raised her glass in a toast, “Let’s drink to the beginning of a great relationship.”
He obeyed her command and raised the glass to his lips, blocked out the voice screaming he was in danger, and drank deep from the bubbling brew.
Nassar took the glass from his limp fingers. “Now, be a good boy and follow me downstairs.”
Trevor docilely followed her to the basement. He was aware of his actions, but couldn’t stop them. A red halo clouded every single thing. Everything in sight was transformed into an unearthly dream. None of it seemed natural.
In the basement, a pentagram carved out of black stone was in the center of the room.
Nassar stepped toward him, grabbed him by the belt loops, and pulled him closer. She unbottoned his pants and pulled the zipper down. “Take your clothes off, step into the circle, and lie in the middle of the symbol,”she whispered in his ear.
Trevor tore off his shirt, stepped out of his pants, and laid down as commanded. The cold stone seeped into his back and thighs as he lay there, helpless.
The other voice had gone silent, and all thoughts of resistance vanished. Trevor didn’t know what was real anymore. It got worse the further he sank into a fugue state. He wasn’t even sure he would wake up and return to his real world.
Naked and lupine in the pentagram, he watched Nassar strip. In the moonlight, her skin glowed white against the backdrop of the pregnant harvest moon, giving her an ethereal look. The thrill of bare skin meeting bare skin sent rivers of pleasure flowing through his body when she climbed on top of him. A jolt of electricity lurched through him; her silky skin felt like velvet when her naked breasts caressed his chest.
Trevor sank deeper into his fantasy. He savored the feel of her softness. Then, slivers of unease wiggled into his mind as the pleasure gradually changed to pain. Maybe this wasn’t a fantasy after all, because the rapture surrounding him slowly disappeared. The discomfort increased, and he tossed his head from side to side and groaned, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source of the ache. Nassar’s hands cushioned his head and her tender lips pressed against his. Jolts of electricity hummed in his veins, but more noticeable was the pinch. He could see the pale white-blue glow of whatever had a hold of him. It flowed and surged like waves out of him and into Nassar. With each ripple, the pain increase.
He shivered when she whispered. “Do you want to live? If so, blink your eyes.”
Nassar sucked the energy out of his body and it was excruciating. Trevor blinked furiously—anything to stop the agony.
“Good. Then say after me. What is mine is yours for all eternity, and may death come on swift wings if I break this bond of blood.”
He repeated the words, he felt something change internally, and blessed relief followed right before everything got murky and darkness claimed him.
Trevor lost track of time; he drifted into the peaceful blackness, but a flash of pain hurled him into consciousness. Nassar stretched herself over the entire length of his body. He ached like he’d run a marathon.
“What Happened?” He tried to force the words from his dry mouth and swollen tongue.
“You just agreed to be mine for eternity.” She bit his nipple. “Let’s hope you last longer than your friends,” Nassar ran long nails down his chest.
A golden glow surrounded her figure, and Trevor watched in horror as the woman laying on him metamorphosed. Two muddy-colored horns developed on top of her head. Her auburn hair darkened into crimson, and her curls moved serpentine-like around her face. Incisors lengthened, framing ruby lips, and her eyes glowed amber.
Trevor screamed when he recognized her from the manuscripts he had helped translate.
Lilith
