Chapter II
No distractions. You have a task to complete.
The voice. Never at ease. Never ending.
Regardless, Bill Compton doesn't move from his chair. Except his eyes. They squint.
Loss is war. War is at hand. You must suffer to rule. You must suffer to be safe—for all vampire to be safe.
Jessica is dead, gone to the sun almost willingly. Man made this happen and man will suffer for it, Bill thinks. Sookie is gone, too. And Warlow. The first bartered to the second in exchange for Warlow's vow—an unbreakable vow, made from a progeny to a maker—to never interfere in Bill's plans. Sookie made no such vow, but for now she is gone.
No distractions. You have a task to complete.
Bill hears nothing but the voice and the beating hearts of humans houses away. Heartbeats everywhere. Heartbeats that must be subjugated—or they will cease forever. In the moments between one of those heartbeats, Bill's eyes, his ears, his sense of smell and touch are taken to another place—another time.
Darkness. What is this? Dirt? I'm in the ground. In a grave? He digs and digs, grasps the dirt, struggles. He hasn't felt this weak in decades. Since drinking the blood of Lilith, he hasn't had even the memory or understanding of this type of weakness. His left hand reaches open air, and then the right. His emerges, but his eyes are sore under the moonlight and millions of stars overhead. He can perceive feet.
"Rise, my creation. Rise."
Up, a beautiful face. A perfect body—muscular, young, hairless except for the long white hair that glows and whips in the wind.
His entire body glows.
"My daughter, my prophet, my general."
This body caked in the dirt from which it emerges. A woman's body—black hair sicking to her back, nude as in birth.
"Birth indeed," says the man. "Someday, we shall rule this world. I have created you—wrought you with my own hands, fashioned you in my own image."
"You-you are God?" she mumbles, finally finding voice in a head filled with words.
"And what do you think?"
A cloud moves away from the moon now. It shines brightly, and the man's—the God's—entire body is illuminated.
"How could you be anything but?"
He smiles. "Do you remember anything of the world before just now, my creation?"
"No. If you are my maker, how could I?"
"Indeed child." A broader smile.
He caresses her hair now. Instantly, they're in the dirt from which she rises—he atop her. He thrusting into her so quickly, so vigorously. Ecstasy. Her joyous scream crescendos from this clearing in the towards, into the mountains and valley and expands along the rivers and paths.
It—all of it—ends as quickly as it began.
She stands and for the first time notices a thirst, an absorbing thirst.
"Would you like to feel that way again, my creation?"
"Yes." That, and to drink.
"Then go forth and multiply."
"Ho-"
"You will know."
"Whe-"
"You will know."
"I have a gift for you, creation. In this valley, you will find creatures that look as you do, talk as you do, move as you do—but they are not like you. Among them, you will find sustenance and the means of your generations. Which will be used for which is your choice. If I am your God, you are my prophet—and prophets must choose. Multiply, and someday a creature will approach you that is unlike both men and vampires—a creature with powers greater than all the world but your own. That creature's powers will multiply your own. And then you will know it is time."
God touches her face once more.
"Soon, my creation, you shall rule this world in my name."
Without warning, God vanishes, as if sucked into the moon.
Bill is back in his living room. He too vanishes in a flash—out of his door and up toward the moon.