CHAPTER 15 - "DAMASCUS'S EXPERIMENT"

After a feeding frenzy on the Virginea Par coastline in a small village called Roanoke in the year AD 1590, Damascus wiped his mouth of dripping blood.

Roanoke had been an English colony of the "New World", where immigrates flocked to the Western continents in hopes of re-colonization, traveling by carrier ship across the Atlantic Ocean. And this village was one of the first colonies to be settled, to fully establish a new English dominance here. But they had isolated themselves next to native tribes that out-numbered them a thousand to one.

Elsewhere, the Anglo-Spanish War continued. England and Spain continued to fight in a non-declared war over religious issues and monarchy rule that sparked several intermittent battles and conflicts. And due to this, the colony of Roanoke was left to fend for themselves, no supply ships had come in over three years. After the first year, the colony began to befriend the two native tribes that resided in and around the area of the Virginea Par - the Secotans and the Croatans - to help them survive on their own. And the colony began to live off the land and build aqueducts for fresh water and other facilities that would gave them the ability to be self-sufficient. Because it was obvious they were utterly alone.

In essence, they had been forgotten.

And it was perfect.

It was sad in a way, because Damascus had enjoyed being in their presence for the last three years. But his Master had said that he was being contaminated by human influences, basking in their culture and speaking their languages, after spending so much time with these people.

His Master had asked why Damascus had decided to remain with these people instead of embarking with others, with more sophisticated venues and cultures. The English were basically beginning a journey of a thousand steps and Damascus had found their endurance fascinating. Thus spent a great deal of time with Englanders, even 'growing' with them to blend in. He had grown a little taller, a little leaner, and allowed his hair to grow longer, for which he had tied a portion of it at the back with a ribbon.

Throughout his time, he even befriended people and had relationships and got a job on the docks hauling cargo. Basically, he wanted something more than Demonhood. He wanted to experience life, instead of merely devouring it. His Master had taught him many things, gave him raise to many skills, but Damascus wanted something else, and England gave him a opportunity to ease his boredom. Thus, he set aside his demon hood and became a human once more, where he eventually agreed to join this new colony.

But alas, after three years, his hunger became too much to bare, and he ate and ate and ate…gorging himself on the colonists he had befriended, devouring their souls and feeding on their flesh. And now, as he stood in a field of blood and body tissue, he sighed dejected. His experiment to rejoin humanity in some fashion had failed, but it did not take away the fact that he had resisted his demon urges for three years.

His Master appeared before him, like a wink in the night. The chaos Damascus had caused loomed all around him, his body saturated in crimson from all the blood and broken bodies strewn everywhere. And Belial gazed around with his hands on his hips, looking at the destruction and death Damascus had caused. But he did not appear happy. In fact, he looked rather disappointed.

"Are you finished?" was all Belial said.

Damascus breathed a little heavy. He allowed his urges to run rampant and this was the result, an unconscious bloodlust. The entire colony of perhaps a few hundred were all dead.

Damascus said nothing, he didn't need to.

"This crusade of yours in attempting to reintegrate yourself into human society is foolish."

Damascus sighed forlorn, then said, "I lasted three years without succumbing to my urges, Master."

"And what did it accomplish? Tell me."

Damascus had no regrets for what he had just done, but he did feel a little guilty as he looked upon some of the people he had befriended over the years, one of which he had been a close, dear friend… his body broken, torn, his eyes forever expressing shock and awe. Damascus had saved him for last. He wanted to, at least, to give his man final witness to who Damascus really was.

Damascus said, "Discipline, Master."

"There is discipline, Damascus, and then there is foolishness. If we are hungry, we eat. We devour souls for nourishment when the opportunity arises. I taught you how to survive as a demon, not for you to set aside your teachings to pretend to be one of them again. Vuoi che io di inviare indietro?"

Damascus's eyes widened in shock. His Master had just spoken Italian to him, Damascus's native language when he was a boy. "Do you wish me to send you back?" he said.

His mind immediately raced back to that fateful day when Vesuvius erupted at Pompeii, where he lain dying, burned, and in agony - it was the only time he truly felt fear. And in nearly a millennia, this was the first time his Master actually threatened to return him back to that day.

To the day of his death…

And consequentially rebirth.

What Damascus was doing, then, was truly disappointing to his Master if he said this in Italian, the very language Damascus purposely avoided speaking because he did not want to be reminded of that day. His Master would not have done such if he were not truly disappointed in him. Pompeii was still a sore spot with Damascus and his Master knew it. It would only take the blink of an eye to reverse everything Damascus was today if Belial wished it.

Damascus looked astray abashed. "No, Master. I was merely experimenting…"

"I disapprove of this 'disobedience' as of late and I demand it ceases. You can not deny who you are, Damascus. You made a choice. The decision was yours, now you must live with the consequences."

"I was forced into making the choice," Damascus muttered to himself. "The mountain blew up."

But it appeared Belial had heard his low-tone nonetheless when Damascus looked into Belial's eyes, and the powerful demon simmered in anger and rage. His 'human' form changing to a sinister demonic aptitude and then back again.

Belial slapped Damascus hard across the face. "You will obey me, Damascus! I will not tolerate this insolence!"

Damascus recoiled from the impact and at the moment felt cowardice. Belial roared in annoyance, his fists clenched tight. Belial had only recently demonstrated an intolerance to all things undemon-like. He had become more hostile and angry and short-tempered as of late, he was normally a tempered man. Biblical interpretations of him were greatly exaggerated. He was a teacher, a noble-man, and a man of great wisdom. He was older than Time itself, at least older than Time on this planet.

Damascus had an idea why his Master was so angry, he had heard rumors from other demons - friends - who had visited him in Roanoke. And he accepted his Master 's attack on him without recourse.

Damascus straightened. "Forgive me, Master," he said, the throbbing of his face giving him pain. "I did not mean to disappoint you. May I be so bold as to ask - is it Decco again? What as he done this time?"

Belial looked at him with blood-filled eyes, but then they softened as he calmed himself. He nodded. He took a moment to cup Damascus's face, the very place Belial had hit him. Damascus's instinct was to flinch, but he did not. "Do not take my striking you personally, Damascus, it was not directed upon you. You are like a son to me and a father should not strike a child. I know you have been 'bored', that you have engaged in this human experiment for something more in existence while I have been away on business.

"Your training was put on hold for this duration. You are patient, Damascus. This is a trait very few demons possess. Some have said those I train now are dumb and worthless under my tutelage, and are not worth association - rumors spread by a certain someone we both know, and this vexes me greatly. For it is not true. I have trained thousands of demons of worth - you being one of them. In fact, you are my prized student."

Damascus remained humble.

"And you are correct. My anger issues are with Decco. He has been running amok, and Morning Star is very displeased. My prior apprentice has fallen out of favor with Morning Star and he wishes me to deal with his recklessness as of late. He has been defiant and destructive, basically creating a nuisance."

"He has not bothered me since our first encounter in nay 400 years when he threatened me."

Belial's eyes narrowed. "Nay? Damascus? You have spending too long with these Englanders. You have picked up some of their vacuolar and poor speech habits, and have even developed an English accent. You used to speak quite elegantly. Do not soil yourself by lowering yourself to their level."

"Forgive me, Master. It has grown apparent to me, as well. When spending a great deal of time in a particular culture, one picks up their way of speech. I will endeavor to correct this bad habit. Notwithstanding, my experiment with human culture has aided me to keep up-to-date with the times."

"Decco considers you beneath him, this is why he has not bothered you. He believes your continuous interaction with humans makes you weak."

"I do so to bask in bettering myself, Master, not to reintegrate myself back within the culture. Humans have grown considerably as a species since I was one of them. I believe educating one-self with a growing culture will help our culture better interpret their strengths and weaknesses for we, as demons, to survive the ages."

"A noble cause, Damascus. I should have considered this fact and should not have struck you."

"I do not hold it against you, Master."

"And you should not. But do not forget either. For learning about a person's personality is equally important. You can use this weaknesses against them and lure then off-guard off to strike at their heart."

Damascus nodded. "A well learned lesson, Master."

"But Decco is an exception to the rule. Do not underestimate him. His anger is his greatest weakness, but it his greatest strength, as well. The angrier he becomes, the stronger he becomes. But he also becomes less focused and he makes mistakes. He lets his emotions rule him. And what you have been doing, angers him, for he hates humans with a passion, and believes demons should not be interacting with them on a social level. He believes it demeans our culture. He believes they are food and nothing more."

"Then he is mistaken in his assumption."

"Decco has been terrorizing humans as of late, and Morning Star fears with enough time, humans will cease to be afraid of us because we will appear so often. He wishes our culture to remain anonymous, apart from the human realm. Decco is playing with humans, challenging some of their greatest fighters. At one time, humans feared us, now we are becoming common place in their culture and not so much feared as revered."

"Revered? The world is highly volatile, filled with religious connation and fear of such. It is a powder-cake ready to explode, and the Anglo-Spanish War happening now between Spain and England is proof of this. But I must admit, it is more about rule than religion. Religion has become second nature in Humanity's tone, replaced by fear of the ruination of one's reputation than being cast into the fiery depths of Hell."

"This is why we demons remain in the shadows, to keep this fear. We take what is needed, to endow this fear. We put forth the idea of a vengeful god when we act, to evoke the idea of God's wrath upon the wicked, but we are not helping Him. We do so to serve our own purposes, even though sometimes our ideologies coincide. God has allowed Morning Star to exist for this very purpose, even after he lost the Holy War in Heaven and was banished. God is not as forgiving as He appears, and he tolerates Morning Star because he serves a purpose. For as long as Hell exists, we demons exist, and it plays to God's ego."

Damascus chuckled at the mention of God's ego. And Damascus knew an entity of such magnitude would have one and a very large one to demanded complete and utter loyalty to implement ten commandments, whereas the first commandment urged that there will be no other god but Him. Regardless of this, humanity still prayed to semi-deities and new religions sprouted up almost on a daily bases throughout the world. It was ironic, however, that every other religion around the world catered to falsehoods when there was, in reality, only one true, powerful, supernatural being. And Damascus was not thinking of Morning Star. And yet, would the shoe be on the other foot if Morning Star had won the Holy War?

"So Decco is being counter-productive," Damascus said.

"Correct."

"How do we stop him?"

Belial's cheeks crinkled up slightly as a smile broadened his face. "We, Damascus?"

"Yes, Master. I am a demon, and thus have an invested interest in preserving my way of existence. And if Decco is on a rampage of self-destructive behavior, then he must be stopped at all costs."

"I like your way of thinking, Damascus, and I agree whole-heartedly. But your training is not yet complete. At this stage, you would be no match for Decco's powers."

"I have been alone for three years without you, but I have not been slacking off in continuing to better myself and improving my own powers, Master. If he so believes that I am a disgrace to the Demonhood because I have socializing with humans, then he will learn the error of his ways of self-omniscience."

Damascus made a gesture with a hand and the blood that saturated his entire body and clothes evaporated. Clean once more, he made another gesture - a whisking movement of one arm - and all the bodies of the slaughtered colonists vanished into nothingness. Then he went to a tree near-by and with a sharp nail, began to carve into it a word of sorts: CROATAN.

"Croatan - what is that?" Belial asked.

"It is the name of one of the tribes that live near-by that the colony befriended," Damascus explained. "The tribesmen helped them to survive when England 'forgot' about the colony when the war with Spain began. There have been no supply ships in three years. And you know the mentality of some people when their fellow countrymen fall at the hands of a large group of indistinguished others."

"Ah." Belial nodded. "So you wish to blame the mysterious disappearance of the colonists on them?"

"It is the perfect cover, Master." Damascus finished off the carving. "Regardless, by the time the truth is revealed, the Croatan's will have died of disease that the colonists brought with them - an air born contamination that their bodies have no immunity from; they are already beginning to show signs of it - and conjecture will arise that the colonists were cannibalized because it was feared they were encroaching upon the tribes domain. Like all things, it is the way of colonization. To kill off, however intentionally or unintentionally, the previous people to make room for yourself. In this case, all will die. And the mystery of the lost colony of Roanoke will reside within the annals of time for ages to come."

"You are ruthless when the time calls for it, Damascus."

"I have an excellent teacher."

And Belial laughed.

Fredrick Abberline knocked on the front door to the Phantomhive mansion with Trent Banes at his side. They had arrived in Spencer Von Strauss's smartly built vehicle that Abberline called a "roadstir". Abberline thought of it as such because of its slick design, the speed in which it traveled and how it moved with an almost effortless maneuverability. It was truly a thing of ingenuity.

But this was a secondary thought. Spencer Von Strauss had saved him from a bounty hunter at his home and had called in a friend to whisk him away to safety while Spencer dealt with clean-up issues. Only when they arrived at Spencer's safe house, it had been set ablaze by unknown forces. Trent suspected the Illuminati. And that if they knew to destroy Spencer's safe house that no one knew about but Spencer and Trent, then there would be no where else safe. And this was when Abberline suggested coming to the Phantomhive mansion. Albeit, Abberline only knew the family on a professional level, but he could not think of anywhere else to go, and he knew Ciel would have connections to help them.

Tanaka answered the door. "First Inspector Abberline, what an unexpected surprise," the elderly butler said.

"Tanaka, is it? Is Ciel or Lukas at home?" Abberline said quickly, not giving the man time to add further to his greetings at the door. Although, he hoped more so Ciel was at home. "It is urgent we speak with them. And no, this is not an official calling," he said just as quickly, eliminating any questions to be had. "This is Trent Banes, a young man I am traveling with. He shares this urgent business we wish to talk about."

"Then come in, gentleman. The master's are at home."

As if on cue, both Ciel and Lukas entered the main vestibule alone as Abberline and Trent entered.

"What is all this then?" Ciel demanded. "Ah." Ciel spread his arms out wide. "Inspector Abberline and guest, to what do we owe the honor of a visit from one of Scotland Yard's finest?"

"Scotland Yard's finest?" Abberline was a bit taken aback by Ciel's words. Although it was nice to hear. And he never thought Ciel held him such high regard.

"Forgive my brother, Inspector," Lukas said, eying Ciel incredulously. "I believe he is trying to be facetious." He looked back at Abberline. "Albeit, you do honor us with your dedication to your job."

Abberline said, "Thank you." He gestured to his right side. "This is Trent Banes, friend of Spencer Von Strauss, who is son of Erich Von Strauss, a wealthy philanthropist, entrepreneur and business coinsurer. Erich Von Strauss owns and operates one of the largest import/export of leather and other assorted goods in England, that also operates in many other countries around the world."

"Yes, the Von Strauss family is known to us," Ciel said. "Lukas attempted to ink a contract with one of their affiliates just last week to begin business relations, in hopes to introduce Funtom Co. into their market. We are hoping to enter into new franchises and not just limit ourselves to toys and related goods."

"I recommend you cease all association with them after what we have to say." Abberline gave a look to Trent and the lad nodded. "But let us cut to the chase of a more immediate matter. We need asylum here."

"Asylum?" Ciel and Lukas eyed the other with confusion.

"This must be a serious matter for such a thing to be asked of us," Lukas said.

"It is," Abberline said. "May we go someplace and talk? And there is a great deal to talk about."

"But of course," Ciel said, relinquishing to their urgency, gesturing them to follow. "Tanaka, please prepare some tea and bring it to the Sitting Room."

"Yes sir."

"Where is Sebastian?" Abberline asked, as they walked.

"He has taken ill. The maid is looking after him at the moment," Ciel said. "Just a touch of the flu."

To be continued…