“The girl. Remember when the witch in black mentioned Maggie the Pious? We need to go get her.”
Lilith sat back on her haunches. “That ‘witch’ is Fate, and you’d be stupid to get in their way. They speak for Destiny, for powers we can’t understand. If Fate had plans for Maggie, then no one can help her. Not you, not God. The unfortunate creature is gone. Dead.”
“Go to hell,” he snarled. “I'll do it myself.”
He began to stand. Agony rippled from his kneecap and flooded his entire body. His hip seized. The vampire watched him labor upward, but she didn't move. Didn’t look concerned.
She inspected him from head to foot as he leaned against the side of the mausoleum and cursed heaven.
Snakes closed over the newly-vacated floor. If his knee wasn't useless, he'd hop out of the way. “Make them back off.”
She ignored that. “How long have you been on this plane?”
“Long enough,” he groused.
Yet the memory of his descent remained fresh and vivid. Years had passed since powerful prayers lured him down to a dark, steamy town in Brazil. There, Haniel stood witness to such intense torture and sacrilege that his soul still ached to think of it.
Worse, heaven hadn't let him save the abused martyr.
It wasn't in the holy plan.
Haniel’s heart had rebelled. Blasphemy tore him from God’s presence, stripped him of his wings, and left him grounded.
He didn't want to talk about it, especially with a vampire.
The door was behind her, and he didn’t think she’d let him leave. He needed his minions. Haniel reached for his tenuous connection with the beasts. It was like thinking, but not with his mind—with his pulse. He found nothing but tattered cobwebs. Maybe he'd lost them.
He shuffled a step, using the wall as a crutch. The vampire watched, indifferent.
“Help me, and I'll help you,” he promised.
He wondered why he bothered to ask. Maybe he was reaching out in a human fashion, looking for an accomplice in the only creature available.
Haniel focused on trying to walk, not because he had any hope of escaping her, but because he was stubborn.
Sweat beaded on his brow despite the freezing temperature. His knee gave out and he began to fall. His fingernails dug into the wall. His hip swung in, banging against the stone, and he caught himself at the last second. Serpents stirred around him, staring at him with cold, remote eyes. He imagined falling onto a blanket of snakes and shivered.
“You have the key.”
He wanted to scream, But I don’t.
Haniel felt along the wall, bracing himself as he hopped toward the door a step at a time.
Snakes hooked on her limbs and traversed over her dress, slipping into her mane of blond hair. Haniel imagined scales slinking across his skin, the tubular bodies cinching around his arms, their beady eyes and fanged mouths. A shudder ripped through him.
“You must have the key,” she whispered. “The Sacred Honor of the Most Profane, the Seven-times betrayed heart, is the key to my salvation.”
He wanted to shake her by the throat. “I don't have a—” He blinked. “What did you call it?”
“Sacred Honor.”
“Sounds like bullshit, if you ask me.”
Lilith said, “In some places, the grimoire uses the word ‘heart’ and ‘honor’ interchangeably. Heart, Honor: same thing, right? Hand it over.”
He squinted at her. It didn’t matter what he said. She believed he possessed something valuable enough to trade for, and he had to exploit the opportunity. For Maggie’s sake.
Haniel licked his lips and studied her eyes. They were silvery, like animated seashells. He thought, shark. “Why do you think I have this thing?”
“Because as an angel-turned-demon, you’re the definition of profane.” She grinned. “And you have a heart.”
That didn't sound good.
His eyes widened. She lunged.
The vampire grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. His skull bounced off the stone. The impact cracked deep, rocking him. A flurry of stars and darkness whirled across his vision. His heart hammered like a misfiring engine.
Serpents, which had barely touched him so far, clambered over his feet, ensconced his legs, and scaled his body. Their weight bore him down. He sank.
From a distance, he smelled sulfur like the wisp of a fog rolling across a soggy battlefield. The last thing he was aware of, stronger than any scent or sound, was the likelihood that he’d never see Maggie again.
Chapter 3
Haniel’s body laid at Lilith’s feet, appealing to more than her appetite. There was something about him. If she didn’t know better, she’d think a glimmer of heaven had stayed with him after his fall. His voice echoed with a cacophony of angelic tones, mournful wails, and terrifying timbers.
The voice of Elohim, she thought, even though she’d never heard the voice of God.
Haniel’s voice was heavy, as if gravity doubled when he spoke.
Her eyes caught on the mausoleum’s miniature angel statues, surrounded by spent candles and withered flowers. The trumpet player reminded her of someone still living, and the harp player looked like someone long dead. The third reminded her of an old necromancer, someone who deserved heaven’s wrath more than she ever could.
She reached into her bodice for a heavy amulet on a gossamer string. The convex disk had a hexagonal Star of Solomon engraved on one side, but age made the etchings nearly indiscernible. She flipped it over to see the seven-pointed star. It was a fresh mark with sharper grooves, marking where five points had become seven.
For the seven sacred names of God?
Maybe the first spell had faltered. Maybe something inside had torn loose and had to be bound again with the second seal.
If she could unlock the damned thing for good, she’d possess its raw power. She could fend off her enemies once and for all. She’d be safe. Then she could return to her desert crag and resume her harmless, peaceful existence.
She frowned. Maybe ‘harmless’ wasn’t quite accurate. She did drink blood, after all, but it wasn’t like she’d tried to destroy the universe. Destiny, devils, and angels killed thousands of people every day, but heaven hated Lilith for bringing a few things to life every now and then?
Absurd. Gods like to rig games, force others to play, and watch them lose.
Not her. Not anymore. She refused to play.
Now she had the key, the Sacred Honor of the Most Profane, the Seven-times broken heart, and she was ready to perform the ritual.
She tucked the amulet back into her dress. She’d happily cast the spell here and now, but she didn't have her stash of ingredients, only the amulet and a comatose devil. She’d have to take him with her.
Or at least a piece of him.
Her serpents swarmed the unconscious man, encircling his limbs and bumping him with their noses. A red snake slunk across his throat, drawing a deep scarlet line. Now that she had him, what exactly did she need? ‘The Sacred Honor of the Most Profane’ means what, exactly?
“Goddamn cryptic spells.”
She wondered: if the Christ’s Sacred Heart referred to the physical organ, the holy humanity of God, wouldn’t a devil’s heart be its antithesis? She should pluck the organ from his chest and take it with her. She didn't have a knife, so she’d have to use her bare hands.
Blood is blood, right?
She hesitated. Maybe killing him was a bad idea. What if the heart needed to be beating during the ceremony? She recalled the scripture she'd memorized: ‘quickened with the Sacred Honor of the Most Profane, anointed with the Heart Seven-times Betrayed’ which was thereafter referred to as ‘the key’.
She rubbed her forehead. This is why magic sucks. A layman would have conveyed the directions in clear terms, but not witches. No, they were obsessed with poetry and euphemisms. The resulting spell was riddled with obtuse language.
Grandiloquent bitches, Lilith thought.
H
er snakes hissed in agreement.
So she'd take the damned heart while she could, by whatever means, and get on with it. She didn’t have time to play games. The angels had already come to earth. Fallen or otherwise, they were all around her. Closing in.
She reached down and pulled Haniel's shirt apart. Buttons popped right and left. His chest was bare, broad, and tight. He'd been a warrior once; she knew the type. Her palm settled on his chest, slightly to his left, where the throb of his heart pushed at her. Ominous, hot pulses beat against her skin, threatening. A bundle of pressure swam inside him. Goosebumps rose along her arms and neck.
She backed away.
A devil shouldn’t feel like that.
Lilith shook her head. What did she really know about devils? She’d never actually met one before. With her life on the line, she couldn’t pussyfoot around.
She bent and bit Haniel’s chest. Skin adhered to her starving tongue. Blood lanced into her mouth. She hadn’t realized how famished she’d become. Weary, burned, and battered, she could devour every drop of his blood. Her teeth ached with hunger.
Snakes rallied around her. She sheared a hole in his skin, big enough for the spear-headed snakes to gain access. The first one climbed up Haniel's chest and flickered its pronged tongue inside the wound, catching a good whiff of the great treasure within. It thrust inside, disappearing up to its eyes.
Bring me his heart.
She vibrated with excitement, unable to keep still. The serpent's head disappeared inside the wound. Its torso followed, sheathed in flesh. The snake could go deep, under the ribs, and wrap around the organ like a python entrapping its prey, snaring the sacred heart, ripping it free and offering it up like candy…
Smoke twisted in the air.
Her snake flew from the wound as if yanked by its tail and struck the wall. Hard. Snip, its death tingled through her. Lilith recoiled.
Something was in the mausoleum with her, but she couldn’t see it.
Ghosts? No, ghosts didn’t hide; they liked to be seen.
Ghouls? No, ghouls might scuttle through the night like roaches, but they weren’t brave enough to steal from a vampire.
A third option?
It didn’t matter. She needed Haniel. She’d take him and run, harvest the juicy bits later. She reached down, ready to toss him over her shoulder and dash through the cemetery.
Sulfur burned the air and whacked her hand. It amounted to no more than a smack on her wrist, but she couldn’t see her enemy, which gave her pause. Her heart buzzed with alarm. Indignation quickly followed.
“Little shit,” she spat. “Come out and face me.”
Nothing.
She lunged for Haniel. The air sizzled, reeking of sulfur, and the body hopped away. She landed on bare stone. Her serpents flopped around, thrashing in pain. Snip, snip, snap: little deaths careened through her. Here and there, the serpents writhed, as if pinned and crushed by small feet.
The memory of weird, infant-sized footprints returned to her.
Snip, snap, snip.
Fighting an invisible enemy sucked.
Meanwhile, Haniel's body drifted toward the door as if he was floating down a river. Escaping.
She screeched and leapt up, stumbling over serpents.
Snip.
She scooped up an armful of snakes and launched them through the air. They soared like ribbons on a breeze. Most dropped to the ground, but some struck unseen objects and tangled on invisible limbs.
Now she knew where six of her targets were.
She sent the red vipers, the poison-filled ones with fiery venom. They lunged and tried to lock their fangs on something. With their loreal pits, they could sense heat and tell them where the entities were, but they couldn’t latch onto thin air.
Her adversaries were nothing but vapor.
Stinky, malicious, demon-stealing vapors.
She sprinted toward Haniel but tripped over something. No, she stumbled on one shadow while another shoved her. She sprawled. Something tangled in her silken skirts, a wriggly creature with too many limbs and a knobby skull. It screeched, clawing her leg. She screamed, and it disappeared as if it had never existed.
What the hell?
Something kicked her, catching her soundly in the ribs.
Agony lanced through her. She hissed and grabbed her side. Pain was her least favorite thing, and the creature’s strength came as a surprise. It was more powerful than a human, but not strong enough to stop a vampire like her.
She flung her arms out, sweeping in a big circle, but her fingers passed through the air.
Her black constrictors raced around the room, tails flickering. The red pit vipers lashed out, mouths open wide, long fangs unhinging but never piercing the shadows.
Haniel’s body floated closer to the door.
Finally, she saw one of them. Barely. The accumulating vapor hunched like a question mark, reminding her of gargoyles fixed atop Gothic stone buildings. It was smaller than she expected, no taller than her knee, and its skull was a mess of wisps and tendrils. She couldn’t make sense of it. Red eyes rolled to meet hers, then the creature disintegrated.
How could she fight something that wouldn’t manifest long enough for her to sink teeth into?
The creature reappeared and stomped on a boa’s head.
Crunch. Snap.
Lilith sent snakes toward the elusive creature. A black constrictor tried to encircle and climb an ankle, but it was like walking a stairway made of clouds. As soon as a snake made upward progress, the phantom dissipated, and her constrictor fell to the ground.
Screw that.
Lilith lunged at the spot where the illusion last stood. She tumbled through its insubstantial body, cracking her chin on the stone floor. Embarrassing.
Vicious laughter coursed through the room, coming from all sides. They were laughing at her, and there was at least a dozen of them.
She did not survive hundreds of years in the cruelest of societies only to be mocked by illusions. I don’t need that bullshit, and I sure as Hades won’t lose my only chance of unlocking the amulet. Not for anything.
If the elusive creatures were part of this plane, even momentarily, then they could be caught, or at least battered upside the head with a stone. Lilith spun, examining every corner of the room. They were obviously trying to protect Haniel, which put them at a distinct disadvantage. Unlike them, Lilith didn't care what damage he sustained.
She needed materia to work with. Her eyes snared on the angel statues. Smiling, she strung a thread of power across her fingertips and flung it like a whip. The marble trumpet twitched, Becoming keeled scales. Lilith concentrated on its emerging head, dreaming of glands bursting with hemotoxic venom. The viper lifted its triangular skull. A black tongue flickered through white lips. As its tail broke loose, a soft, oceanic blue color spread across its scales.
Pretty girl, Lilith thought, kill them.
The snake undulated, leapt, and sashayed through the air. She landed on Haniel’s prone body and reared back. Fangs descended like switchblades, aiming for Haniel’s neck.
A phantasm rushed in, thickening from a puff of air into velvety smoke. The monster’s head had five horns, long red eyes, and a slash of a mouth. It intercepted, and the snake latched onto its grotesque head. Venom poured into the monster’s bloodstream. The creature shrieked and thrashed.
Lilith grinned. If venom hurt the shadows, she could disable them long enough to escape with the unconscious man. She’d send her vipers to distract them while the boas dragged the body away.
A miniature demon pushed her, and she bumped into another shadow. This one solidified enough to bite her calf. Lilith shrieked as it lapped at her blood. Its jaws hardened from a soft-as-seaweed state to real bone, and two rows of tiny teeth pierced deep into her flesh.
She bellowed and swatted at her leg. Her fist struck its skull and knocked it across the room. Its skin felt like leather, but its body was translucent. Smoke swirled inside its cavernous sk
in. It hardened, grew sharper, stronger.
Tasting her blood had given it substance.
She kicked it in the chest and sent it tumbling. Its body dematerialized as if it had never been there.
Her red and white serpents darted toward Haniel like fireworks shooting across a black sky. Demonic forms thickened throughout the room, rolling like fog, racing the snakes.
Serpents flinched and hissed under the pitter-patter of small feet. The mausoleum became a thrashing pit of tangling limbs, claws, and fangs. While the battle ensued, Lilith slunk around, flanking the chaos.
A shadow with five horns turned toward her. Its long red eyes and needle teeth glinted. It lunged.
She threw a spark of power at the crosses in the room, turning the golden sticks into yellow eyelash vipers. They shook loose and rippled down the altar, but not fast enough.
She punted the five-horned demon. It tumbled back into a swarm of other devils. They turned and pounced on her.
Jaws clamped on her thighs and flanks. Teeth dug in. Some bites merely pinched, others chomped mouthfuls out of her. She flailed, panicky and indignant. Her fists bludgeoned one, her nails scraped on another. One scampered up her leg, so she seized its skull and bit back.
The minion tasted like entrails gone sour under a ceaseless sun. Skin the texture of soft leather. More bone than flesh. It howled under her teeth. She threw it down and stomped on its skull.
Something tackled her from behind, and she crashed down. The assailants leapt on her, yellow pit vipers swarmed atop them, and she struggled under a mélange of abominations.
The snakes and apparitions battled each other, and serpents died. Shadowy teeth chomped the snakes’ heads from their long bodies, and with every drop of blood spilled, the monkey-gargoyle-imp things took on more matter. As if each bit of blood nailed their forms to the earth. Despite the poison soaking into their bodies as they fought, the little devils kept biting, eating, trembling, and frothing at the mouth.
She struggled to sit up, defending her face and throat. Every nip of her flesh solidified them. They were becoming something she could actually get her hands on. They ripped into her, past her dress, chomped on her back, gobbled at her left thigh.
Lilith's Amulet Page 2