North of Los Angeles, the forest was actively reclaiming the land that man had cleared during civilization's heyday. Whole roads had been swallowed by the woods. Michael suspected it was growing faster than it naturally would, based on the extreme amount of growth that had taken over but also the density of the established forest. The canopy overhead was so thick, sunlight couldn't penetrate it. The lack of sunlight cast the deep woods into a perpetual state of twilight.

Michael loved it.

The cool air was refreshing and the musty smell of earth and decay tickled his primal senses. Being in the forest spurred the beast within. But as much as he would like to rip off his fancy clothes and go running through the woods naked and wild, he had work to do.

Nothing bothered him as he made his way through the woodlands to the tallest peak of the San Gabriel Mountains. The mountain's given name had been Mount San Antonio, but locals had referred to it as Mount Baldy. Michael chose it both because of its height and the number of deaths that had occurred on it. According to the book he read, the majority of the deaths were accidents. Several ambitious hikers met their unfortunate ends on the treacherous trail. But there were a handful of missing persons who disappeared under dubious circumstances, some never to be found.

Michael hadn't come to investigate those disappearances. He scaled the difficult climb with another mission in mind. He took the physical route up, though he was hardly dressed for the rough hike. By the time he made it to the top, his clothes were filthy and torn in more than one spot. The leather of his shiny boots was irreparably scarred. Dirty but not the least bit tired, he had a cigarette and looked out over the view the summit afforded him.

High above the forest, he could see where the fog still clung to the trees and parts of the city beyond. The sun was beginning to set, spilling crimson light across the hazy valley like a bleeding wound. Michael watched until the last of the light faded from the horizon then turned away, to find himself a place to settle and wait.

Several hours in, he began to feel his appetite stir. He had brought no sustenance and didn't intend to leave his chosen spot on account of hunger. It was a noble goal, but as the hours stretched longer and longer, his body's reaction to the denial grew to the point that it dominated his thoughts. It was part of the process, he reminded himself when his stomach growled so loudly that at first he mistook it for a wild animal behind him.

Such reassurances did nothing to soothe the craving for flesh. As darkness fell, Michael thought about calling to his Father. He didn't want to summon the celestial being, though; he wanted the creature to come to him without being asked. Michael didn't actually need anything from Him and, after the flood, was hesitant to put out a call for what amounted to personal reasons.

Waiting didn't seem to accomplish much, however, and his patience was limited. The hungrier he got, the less tolerance he had for the game. He tried to calm himself by recalling scripture, as he often did when things weren't going the way he wanted. Father Jeremiah's teachings often provided some insight, or at least a distraction from whatever was plaguing him. Remembering the trials of the Son of Man, he considered how long Christ was supposedly out in the desert waiting for a sign from his Father. Nearly a month, as Michael recalled.

That was hardly a comfort. Michael didn't have a month to wait around, hoping his Unholy Father would decide to swing by.

"I just want a sign," he grumbled out loud. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do next. We need supplies. We need more people, so we can start producing things on our own."

He grabbed a fallen branch, a thin thing barely grown that one of the recent storms had broken free from its parent tree. Poking at the dark soil at his feet, Michael scowled thoughtfully. Troy and Pietre had already left on a scout-and-recover mission for supplies, taking the triplets with them along with a couple of acolytes from the church to help haul things and drive. Fiona was on her own mission, surveying Texas and Louisiana for signs that the safe havens there were still around. If they were, he reckoned they should try to re-establish communications and get supply caravans moving between them, if possible. Fiona's report would enable him to make decisive action in that vein.

They should also try to reach Seattle and Boston for the same reason, but that would require more time and more people to travel that way. He didn't like having to constantly use his inner circle to do such mundane tasks. He needed another tier of followers, preferably ones that could defend themselves out in the wilds better than the average human. He needed missionaries—and shock troops. He needed more people and a way to train them.

He got so involved in his meditation that he lost track of time, despite the gnawing hunger that chewed at his insides. He had no idea how long he had been sitting there planning for the future when a motion at his feet attracted his attention. A thick-bodied snake slithered over the pointed toe of his right boot, scales gleaming in the hazy moonlight. It was a long serpent, a rare black rattlesnake that was almost invisible against the shadowed ground. The rattle on the tip of its tail was pure white, pointed slightly upward as the animal slithered its way to his other boot where it paused.

Michael regarded the snake with open interest. While he knew there were snakes on Mount Baldy, the arrival of the jet-black rattler was no coincidence. On impulse, he reached down and took hold of the ophidian, grasping it beneath the head before slipping his other hand under its cool, slick belly. The snake instinctively coiled around the arm that held its belly and its rattle buzzed as the creature tested his grip. It was strong; Michael had to think about the way he held it, in order to keep it restrained without crushing it.

He raised the serpent up to eye level and studied its angular face. It had an alien beauty to it: The glossy, black eyes and tapered snout gave it an elegant draconian appearance. The resemblance to the Dragon from his visions was undeniable. He smiled a heavy-lidded smile at the cold-blooded ambassador from Hell.

"I was wondering if you would come," he admitted, with just a touch of earnest humility. "I don't believe I thanked you properly before, for protecting us. I intend to do so...at Spring Solstice." He had no idea what he was going to do, to fulfill that intention, as he was speaking off the cuff, but he would do something grand.

The serpent poked its tongue out, tasting the air and the scent of the Antichrist.

"Ever since I saw you at the Hollywood sign," he went on. He released the snake's head and it immediately curled snugly around his wrist. "I've had dreams. I can't tell if they're prophecy or reality. I...I need more. If I'm going to reconstruct this miserable planet, I need more from you."

The snake's rattle-tail buzzed again and the animal oozed itself fully from his right arm to the left, winding its prehensile body around his forearm. The hug of it through the black silk sleeve of his shirt was strangely comforting. He ran a finger down the ridge of its spine, feeling it give slightly beneath his touch.

The creature's grip on his arm tightened briefly and, quick as lightning, the thing bit him. It sank its fangs deep into the meat of his thumb and injected a hefty dose of venom. Michael yelped in pain and jumped up in surprise. He tried to throw the rattlesnake down but it coiled tighter in a supernatural death-grip and squeezed another shot of poison into his veins. The stuff burned and Michael's temper ignited with it. He focused the full force of that hatred on the snake. It burst into white-hot flames and then powdered into nothing as it fell away from him.

Still mad, Michael examined the wound it left. The twin holes were surprisingly large. The thing's fangs had to have been massive. The edges of the punctures went from dark red to black as he was inspecting the damage.

"Shit," he swore under his breath.

He could feel the venom moving down his arm. The veins at his wrist were darkening under his skin. He grabbed his forearm, but that didn't make a very good tourniquet. His heart skipped a beat and he reached for his belt buckle, to do a proper job of it. But he didn't take off his belt. He paused, then let go of the fastener.

Just as the snake's appearance wasn't a coincidence, he was sure the bite wasn't either. It was a direct answer to his request. Either the venom would kill him, or it would give him what he asked for.

Michael wished for a moment that he hadn't incinerated the serpent, but he didn't get hung up on it. The creature was a tool—a means to an end.

He sat back down on the rock. He could feel the venom reach his heart and the searing pain it brought caused him to double over, clutching at his chest. He panted through the pain. Sweat dampened his forehead, causing the baby hairs at his hairline to stick to his skin. It was a good thing he hadn't eaten recently or he would have vomited. As it was, he hacked a few dry heaves, the force of which sent the toxins racing to his brain.

Everything hurt. Every nerve, every cell burned. Michael fell to his knees, shaking violently as the poison wracked his body. Distantly, he wished the process would just hurry up and kill him so he didn't have to feel anymore. The agony seemed to last forever, coming in waves that never fully subsided but seemed to intensify with each influx.

Then blackness, blessed blackness, finally closed in on him and shut off everything.

—

Author's Note:

The title of this chapter means 'without light' in Latin. Interestingly, it means 'self luxury' in Romanian.

Things have been a little crazy here. I've had a sick kitten I've been nursing for the past couple of weeks. If the next chapter's delayed, it's because I've been having to do a lot for him, and an unfortunate amount of cleanup. Hopefully he'll be feeling better soon, with his new medicine. The next chapter is written, by the way. It just needs editing before it's fit for publishing. I'll try not to leave you in the dark too long.