by Devin Hanson
“That didn’t stop you during dinner.”
“Just because I’m not old enough to drink doesn’t mean that I don’t.”
“Ah… I am not used to American laws. You and I, we belong to an altogether older society. One that does not have such petty restrictions on inebriation.”
“Maybe you do,” I grinned at him wryly, “but I’m no djinn. Pure human, that’s me.”
David raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Is that right?” His eyes dug into me, piercing and gray. “No. You are no human, Alexandra.”
“I… what? Of course I am!” I tilted my head and pushed my nose to the side, giving David a good look at the skin. “Look. Wrinkle-free. I’m not a djinn.”
“I didn’t say you were a djinn, Alexandra.” He studied me, his head tilted a hair off center, like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve. “For this,” he said, “we need drinks.”
“I already said—”
“You can drink in private, can you not? I have a room in this hotel. Come, the bar there has plenty of alcohol.”
I frowned at him. Did he think I was going to go to his hotel room? Just like that? I touched my handbag, with my cellphone inside. I should call Ethan. That would be the sane thing to do. That would be the responsible thing to do.
But… I remembered the tarot cards that Lei had drawn for me. She had seemed convinced that I was possessed of a split nature. Despite my misgivings, I was curious. David knew something that I did not. And what had Elaida called me? Halfblood?
David nodded as he saw my reluctance. “Or I can call you a cab and you can go home. But I will only be offering this chance once, Alexandra.”
Shit. Well, what’s the worst that could happen? “Fine.”
“Good.” David stood from the table and offered me his arm.
I let him pull me to my feet, wondering where his cigarette had gone. He hadn’t knocked the ashes from it once that I remembered; there wasn’t even an ashtray at our table. Maybe it wasn’t an actual cigarette but one of those e-cig things.
“Are you going to show me your treasure?” I asked him, half-jokingly as we walked to the elevator.
“Would you like to see it?” he shot back.
I blushed. Somehow David had turned that into a sexual innuendo. Or maybe it was just my dirty mind playing tricks on me.
“Will it send me on an adventure?” I wanted to kick myself halfway through the last word.
“There is going to be adventure enough without you asking for more,” he chuckled.
We got into the elevator, and David used a key in the panel and pushed an unmarked button. “I hope we’re not going to the basement,” I joked as the doors slid shut. I was being smart, but the mystery button made me a little nervous.
“The other way.”
Sure enough, we started going up. I thought of the urban myths of hotels with empty space on the thirteen floor, or elevators that went to other planes of existence. I could feel David’s eyes on me, and I kept the bland smile on my face with an effort of will. He was trying to rattle me, I could tell.
The elevator ride seemed to go on forever. I tried to picture the hotel from the outside and guess at the number of floors. Twenty? Twenty-five? Surely not thirty. Finally, it dinged to a stop and the doors slid open.
David’s “room” was a penthouse suite. A cavernous lounge set with mood lighting opened up before us, the whole wall nothing but floor-to-ceiling glass. There was a full wet bar set against the wall next to the elevator door. On the other side of the lounge a dining table gleamed, large enough to sit ten or twelve people. A full-sized kitchen was next to the dining space, with doors leading to the bedroom suite beyond.
“Holy shit,” I gaped.
“If you need to freshen up, there is a bathroom through the door over there.”
“Thanks. I’m… I’ll be fine.” I stepped out into the lounge and approached the windows. The view out over downtown Los Angeles was beautiful, full of lights. The 110 freeway was a river of headlights to the north west. To the southwest, we were high enough to see the ocean in the far distance.
“It’s a clear night,” David said.
I watched the reflection in the glass as he came up behind me. He stopped inches away from me. I could smell the wood smoke of his cigarette and felt the warmth radiating from his chest. I expected him to touch me, and I felt a strange sense of loss when he seemed content to just look over my shoulder.
I could initiate things, if that’s what he was waiting for. It wouldn’t take much. I could just shift my weight backward an inch or two and things would take their own course from there.
“I think I need a drink,” I said.
David made a small sound in his throat. Amusement? Disappointment? I tried not to wonder as I went over to the bar and started digging through cabinets. I found some frozen strawberries in the freezer and decided to go with what I was best at.
“Do you want a daiquiri?” I asked.
He chuckled and shook his head. He joined me behind the bar and stretched up effortlessly to pluck a bottle of whisky off the top shelf that had been out of my sight. “I’m a simple drinker,” he explained.
I eyed his bottle as I dumped ingredients into a blender. Whatever he was, I was pretty sure Blue Label wasn’t a simple drink. He poured his whisky neat, two fingers and maybe a little bit more, then wandered over to the entertainment console.
I couldn’t help but snigger a little as I pulsed the strawberries into a slurry. David was old enough to be my dad. Did he even know what Netflix and chill was?
Something classical was coming out of the speakers when I stopped the blender. I can’t claim any knowledge of old music, but the composition had a certain zing to it that was missing in a lot of modern tunes. I tapped out my concoction into a tall glass and went to join David on the couch.
I put my drink down on the coffee table and took my heels off before settling down. The buttery-smooth leather was amazing. I breathed a sigh of pleasure and folded my legs underneath me. The split in my dress showed more leg than I would have been comfortable displaying in public, but the way David’s eyes lingered gave me a feeling of excitement.
“So,” David asked, “what do you remember of your parents?”
Right. Genealogy was the reason we were in his hotel room. “Not much,” I admitted. I sipped at my daiquiri and winced a little at the bite of rum. I had, perhaps, mixed it a bit strong. “My mom passed giving birth to me, and my dad died when I was very young. I spent most of my childhood in foster care.”
“Your father was human?”
I nodded. “He’s the one who taught me to spot djinn. He was human.”
“Did it never occur to you to ask why he took care to teach a young child about the world hidden around us?”
It had, but I shrugged, playing it down. “Sure. I’ve dug through every memory I have of him more times than I can count. It didn’t seem strange at the time, but he did emphasize that I was to keep my knowledge to myself.”
David drew on his cigarette and examined me through a plume of smoke. I hadn’t seen him light it, but he must have when I was busy with the blender. “Then it is your mother that was not human.”
“Djinn and humans can’t cross-breed,” I objected.
“That is true enough.”
“What, you’re saying I’m part angel?” I boggled at him a little and took a deep swallow of my drink to cover my shock. “I thought they were asexual.”
“The people of light have no purpose in sexual reproduction,” David said, “but that doesn’t mean they can’t.”
“So, my mom was an angel?”
“The angels are gone with God, child,” David said gently. “All but a few, at any rate, and none that remain are capable of meaningful interaction.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Fallen, on the other hand, are still very much around, and they have purpose in breeding when it suits their schemes.”
My hear
t stuttered in my chest. The sip of daiquiri melted on my tongue and the alcohol stung at the soft tissues in my mouth. David continued, oblivious to my uncomprehending shock.
“The question, of course, is which demon gave birth to you. Is Ascher your father’s name?”
I shook my head numbly.
“Well, it wasn’t your mother’s, that’s for sure. Clever of him, to hide you under an old Hebrew family name. Plenty of prayer attached to it, muddying the waters.”
I barely heard him. I was half demon? I finally swallowed and almost choked on my drink. “How?” I coughed. “How do you know this?”
“I see the light in you, my dear. There are not many Nephilim in the world today.”
I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my shoulders. I was a demon? I had seen an exorcist performed before. They weren’t anything like me. “I don’t believe you,” I whispered.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” David said consolingly. I heard him shift on the couch and felt the heat coming off him as he settled next to me. “The Nephilim were intended to act as emissaries from the dark, but the same flaw that let the angels break free of God’s will remains with you.”
He touched my chin, pulling my face up. I opened my eyes unwillingly, my vision blurry with tears. His fingers on my face were gentle and were hot against my skin as if he were running a fever.
“Your human side gives you a choice, Alexandra. All of the Nephilim get it. It will be difficult for you, as the temptations will be very real, but you can resist if you truly desire it.”
Something David said tugged at me. “You said it mattered who my mother was?”
“Oh, yes. Demons have power, child, and it is handed down to their offspring. It very much matters who your mother was.”
“Let me guess,” I asked woodenly, “it’s just waiting for my twenty-first birthday?”
“It is the tradition,” David agreed. “Twenty-one years of age is a new trend. I remember when it was fourteen, and twelve for female children. Know you are lucky that you have a degree of education and have developed a moral compass and some self-control. It was much harder for the early Nephilim to resist the temptations offered by the Fallen.”
“Lucky?” I mumbled. I didn’t feel lucky. My life felt like it was collapsing beneath my feet. I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know what I was. How could David call that lucky?
“You’re taking this harder than I thought,” David sighed.
“What do you expect?” I cried out. “You just told me my mom was a demon!”
“Well, I did suggest drinks,” he said.
I looked up at him, incredulous. He thought this was funny? “You asshole.”
“The real question,” he mused, ignoring my outburst, “is whether your mother was a baroness like Lilith, or some minor schemer with barely the power to manifest.”
I gulped. “Lilith?” I remembered my lore correctly, the last time Lilith bore children to a man, they spawned as the plagues of mankind.
David grinned. “Probably not. Lilith hasn’t made her presence felt among humans for centuries. One of her daughters, perhaps? They’ve been more active recently, and I have sensed the stirrings of Mammet this decade.”
Some of what David was saying started to percolate through the shock in my mind. Wait, he remembered when the age of majority was fourteen? He was familiar enough with the activities of the barons of Hell to differentiate between their influences?
I pulled back from him a little. “Who are you?” I asked.
“I am David Caradoc.” He smiled at the look on my face. I can only imagine what he saw there.
“What are you?”
“Ahh. That is the right question. But this is the wrong time for answers about me, I’m afraid. Be at ease. I have no intention of harming you.”
Whatever David was, it was obvious that he was not human. “You knew this about me, and still you want to have me work for you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he looked puzzled. “You are capable, beautiful, and soon to be powerful. There is no reason I shouldn’t.”
“But… on Monday…”
“You will still be Alexandra. Or, rather, you will be fully Alexandra—and even more capable of serving me than you are now.”
That was comforting. Sort of. I was still dizzy with his revelation, added on to the turmoil of my attraction to him.
David leaned closer to me, and I could smell the smokiness of his breath. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a little strange. I refused to back away from him and stared into his gray eyes as he came closer, and finally stopped with his mouth an inch or two away from my own.
“I promised you entertainment,” he said softly. His breath was hot on my skin. “I have not been a good host.”
I swallowed and tried to settle my spinning thoughts. Fought the urge to lean the extra two inches forward and kiss him. “What do you have in mind?” I husked. My mind was still spinning. I was in denial still, but the matter-of-fact way David had delivered his announcement left little room in my mind for disbelief.
He pulled back and stood. “Something to take your mind off what you cannot change. Would you like to dance?”
My shoulders slumped. This teasing was driving me crazy. Was he interested in me? Was he not? I almost wished he would just tear my dress off and get it over with. I took his offered hand and stood. “Sure, why not.”
“It has been a while since I have done this sort of thing,” he said. “The last time I danced seriously was in the fifties.”
“What, jitterbug? Swing?” I was a little doubtful. I could go through the basic footsteps of swing, but if he was going to be flipping me around, my dress was going to be problematic.
“Ah. No. The eighteen-fifties.”
I coughed a strangled laugh, unsure if he was joking or not.
“The steps of the waltz were my favorite. I was sad to see them go out of style.”
I took a deep breath. Waltz? Seriously? I tried to think back to my high school prom dance classes. Waltz could be as complex as the dancers wanted it to be, from arthritic swaying to all but running up the walls.
“Am I going to need my shoes for this?” I asked.
He grabbed my hand and yanked me in close, with one hand on the small of my back, practically lifting me off my feet. I was pressed against him from thigh to collarbone. I could feel the muscles shift in his legs and the gather of his pectorals as he raised my captured hand to shoulder height. There wasn’t much I couldn’t feel of him, and I’m sure he had as complete an awareness of my own body.
David growled something in a language I didn’t know, what I assumed was a negative. The music changed, from the soft background of string instruments to something with an almost martial beat. Brass swelled as he pulled me into the first swaying steps. Did he have the sound system remote in his pocket? How had the music changed?
I wrapped my free arm up around his shoulder and hung on, as much in a bid to keep my balance as to reciprocate his tight grasp around my waist. My wonder about the music faded as he spun me around. There wasn’t room inside the couch arrangement for true waltz steps, but David made the most of it. The music grew more complex as drums and strings joined the brass, and my pulse rose with it.
It was dancing like I had never experienced before. School dances had been characterized by awkward, pre-erotic fumbling and muttered apologies about stepped-on toes, and prom hadn’t been much better. The gyrating, grinding and flailing of what passed for dancing with modern music was hopelessly deplorable compared to the grace and fluid movements with which David swung me about our limited space with.
I could feel my dress riding up and cold air touched the bare skin above my stockings. I didn’t care. I was getting more into the mood, my feet matching David’s steps, if with somewhat less skill. Somehow, I found myself with my back against his chest, one of his strong hands pressing against my stomach and my hips crushing back into his groin.
I closed my eyes, leane
d back into him and ran my free hand up the back of his neck. His skin was hot to the touch and he grunted as I ran my nails through the short hair at the base of his head. And there was the reaction I was looking for, the swelling in the space between our tightly pressed bodies.
The music changed again, winding down from the spring of the waltz and mellowing out with only strings accompanying a piano. David ducked his head down to nuzzle at my neck. The hand against my stomach slid upward and cupped at my breast, molding my flesh with almost painful strength.
“Yes,” I sighed. Finally.
My acquiescence seemed to ignite something within him and he spun me around. He cupped the back of my head and drew me close, pausing with his lips just barely brushing against mine.
“You want this?” he asked, his voice rough.
“Jesus Christ,” I groaned. “Don’t make me beg.”
He kissed me, then. His lips felt hot against mine, and his mouth tasted clean and smoky. I kissed him back, opening to his mouth, and grabbed the back of his neck. He dropped one hand to the split in my dress and slid up underneath it until he grabbed the top of my thigh and lifted me off my feet.
I gasped in surprise and wrapped my legs around his waist. David held my weight effortlessly. My dress had ridden up, but I was far beyond caring now. Everywhere he touched me I could feel the heat of his body burning me. The music had faded to the back of my thoughts, but the pulse of a drum seemed to match the pounding of my heart.
I bowed my head down to his and kissed him again, exploring the inside of his mouth while his hands roamed over my back and bottom. Every time he squeezed it sent shivers rushing through me and spikes of electric pleasure that rippled up and down my spine and gathered in my groin. I bit his lip and groaned.
He turned and lowered me down onto the couch. I kept my legs wrapped about his waist, unwilling to let him go just yet. He pulled back just far enough to reach between us and cup the weight of my breast. His fingers sent thrills through me. I fumbled at the buttons on his shirt but couldn’t get them undone. Frustrated, I pulled his shirt tails out and ran my hands up the rippled muscle of his stomach.