The Magic Number

by Natalie Gibson

  One of the men went into another bedroom, where Izzy was no doubt. Everyone could hear the shower going. The man disappeared, closing the door behind him. After a few seconds, Camilla heard the telltale pfft, pfft of a gun with a silencer. Camilla cursed the man on the phone.

  His reply was only, “I said we wouldn’t hurt your family. Israel isn’t your family. He’s a sexual deviant. Can’t leave too many loose ends, you know.”

  The man that had gone into the room where Camilla’s parents were came out quickly, Linda and Roy ahead of him, hands in the air. As they passed near Nanae, Roy grabbed a large candlestick from a table behind the couch. He swung it at the head of the man holding Nanae. The older man was weak and slow, and the young guard easily dodged it. The familiar pfft dropped Roy on his face. A red spot grew from underneath him.

  Nanae jumped down and put his face to the wound. When the men moved to stop him, the voice said, “No, let him. Let Camilla see what kind of monster she’s chosen to side with.”

  Horrified, Camilla did watch. She tried not to hear the slurping and gulping noises, but the room was otherwise silent.

  Linda’s voice tore Camilla’s eyes away. “Idiot.” Linda plopped down on the couch and picked up the remote. She put it on Fox News and laid the remote beside her. “I told him to just go along with it and we’d be fine.”

  Camilla’s mother was calling her dad—now dead on the floor, being sucked dry—an idiot. Her eyes widened. “You did this.”

  Her mom didn’t answer. She was watching some clown blubber and cry about the lost utopia of America that no longer existed because of liberals and sexual degenerates. The Texan on the phone answered for her. “We had a cover story ready, but once we talked to your mom, she gave us everything we needed. She was willing to give you up free of charge.”

  The man who’d escorted her parents from their room went to check on the man who killed Izzy. Tears stung Camilla’s cheeks, but she didn’t have time for grieving now—not for her father or the father of her unborn.

  Both men came out of Izzy’s room. The first was chuckling. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the man behind him. “Gay guy’s dead in the shower, and this moron decides to take a piss.” Izzy’s murderer shrugged and finished with his buckle.

  Camilla very calmly and quietly promised the man, “You are going to pay for what you did to him, even if I have to kill you myself.”

  The man laughed. Camilla’s eyes narrowed. The other men joined in, laughing at the idea that a grossly pregnant woman could exact any vengeance on them. Nanae straightened, his face covered in blood, and smiled at the man who started this infectious laughter.

  Someone threw a giant coat around Camilla’s shoulders, she assumed to hide her bomb. They got into formation. They were leaving. Frantically trying to come up with a plan that would keep her remaining family intact, Camilla left her mother sitting on the couch next to her dead father’s body while her kid brother slept in the next room. There was a man on either side of Camilla and Nanae, and one followed behind. Camilla was in front, with Nanae right behind her. She did not see Nanae’s easy grin.

  Camilla held the phone during the ride. The Texan continued to talk to her. He assured her that they didn’t care about her and didn’t want to hurt her. She was simply insurance that her guardian would stay docile. They just wanted his blood. After he gave it to them and they had changed it into a more stable compound, she and Nanae would be free to go. Her guard, the only one sharing her bench in the van, elbowed her. The Texan had asked her something, and she wasn’t listening. She muttered some affirmation that seemed to please the voice enough that he continued.

  She tugged at the vest, and her guard warned her, “Pull the wrong wire loose and it blows anyway. You’re safer with it on. We won’t kill you as long as it stays put.”

  She looked across the large van at Nanae. He had taken on his natural form. He wouldn’t have fit inside a smaller vehicle. He was flanked by her father’s murderer and Izzy’s. Camilla rubbed her belly, where the baby had started to move. She had lost a lot in the last half hour. She silently promised herself that she was done losing. Their baby would survive this. Nanae had a plan. She could see it. If only they could push their thoughts into each other’s minds like Nathalia and Kafziel, she would know what the plan was and be ready when he sprang into action. He didn’t look like he was springing into anything. He looked…relaxed. Nanae smiled at her. She locked eyes with him, trying to tell him that she was ready, but she wasn’t sure if he understood.

  Izzy’s killer sat beside Nanae but stared at her. She beamed hate rays at him. She despised everything about him. His pockmarked face, his stubby fingers with nails bitten to the quick, the way he constantly moved his mustache as if it tickled his lip—it all made her angry. He winked at her, and she gritted her teeth. He looked around. Everyone was looking at him. He put his finger to his ear. Camilla could hear the Texan yelling.

  “Brady! Wake up. I told you not to get distracted. It’s time. Give him the tranq.”

  The man called Brady searched his belt before finding the dart gun. He pushed it into Nanae’s ribs and squeezed the trigger.

  “No!” Camilla yelled.

  “Don’t worry,” Nanae said to her before his head dropped to his chest.

  Camilla wrapped her arms around her bomb-bound belly, waiting for the pain to start. With Nanae unconscious, her baby would be pushed from her body. She willed her ability to find an ailment inside one of the other occupants of the vehicle. None to be found, yet nothing happened. Nothing happened. Brady continued to smile at her, his mouth twitching irritatingly. He gestured to the phone, still clutched in her hand, pressed against her stomach. She put the phone back out in front of her so they could hear.

  “This’ll go faster this way. When the van stops, do exactly what my men tell you and they won’t hurt y’all.”

  The man who shot Camilla’s dad chewed his lip, then took out his bowie knife. He made a quick slice across Nanae’s arm. The thick blood swelled to fill the gash, and the murderer dropped his head and latched onto the red streak. The man beside Camilla yelled, “No!” He shook his head. “Moron.”

  The blood drinker straightened, smiling at the man. “I’m no moron. You were never going to share the blood with us. You’ll take it all back to Texas. Now, I have some that you can’t take. Man, I feel good. I can feel it inside me, bonding to my muscles, making me strong.” He was breathing heavy and fast.

  Camilla’s guard moved his gun to point at her dad’s killer. He shot twice, but the intended victim moved too fast. He was standing and got the gun away from the shooter in a breath’s length. Before he could turn the gun on her guard, his face exploded outward toward her. She screamed. Moist clumps sprayed her. Wind whistled through the two bullet holes in the van wall beside her head. The man crumpled, and Brady reholstered his gun, smiling. Always smiling. Always the happy murderer.

  “Thanks,” was all her guard said.

  Brady inclined his head.

  The bloodied man on the van floor twitched. Camilla tried not to look at his destroyed face. She threw up anyway. She hadn’t eaten anything, so there wasn’t anything but stomach acid to bring up. It hurt her throat, but the pain passed quickly, her body healing itself.

  The car stopped. Shit, she thought, you’re never supposed to let them get you to a second location. That was always where the most horrible things happened. Rape, torture, murder—the violence always escalated at the destination. Seeing as how they’d killed two people at the first location, she shuddered to think what they had in store for her and Nanae here. The double doors on the back of the van opened, and light spilled in, momentarily blinding Camilla.

  The dead man’s feet bumped hers as he was slid out by whoever had opened the door. Her guard warned them. “He’s not dead yet. Cut off his head and incinerate him. It’s the only way to keep him from rising and joining our prisoners’ side. You’re next darlin’.” His comment was accentuated
with a hard grip on her arm and a slight shove.

  Camilla stood and made her way to the back, managing to avoid slipping in the blood. The tip of Nanae’s wing caressed her side when she passed by. She tried not to react. Nanae wasn’t unconscious. No wonder her baby still held tight.

  The driver and front passenger stood at the doors and helped her down. They backed away quickly when her feet were on the ground. Clearly, they didn’t want to be near her, which meant she wasn’t clear of danger yet. Their actions told her the Texan could and would still use the bomb if something went wrong.

  Her eyes adjusted to the bright outdoors. They had brought them to what looked like an innocuous farm. Two men dragged the twitching, probably quickly healing body toward a silo. Her guard came out right after her. He stood with his gun on her while his eyes remained on the van. A front end loader approached the open doors, a giant space pod on its lift. The pod lid was open. It was metal on the outside, with lots of controls, buttons, and tubes that made it look like Sputnik or something. It didn’t look comfortable. The inside was coated with plastic at least a foot thick and had dagger-sized needles fed through it.

  Somehow, they managed to roll Nanae out of the van and into the modern iron maiden. It closed with a hiss, signaling that it was sealed airtight. The group moved toward the red barn, and as they approached, the wide doors with the white crisscrossed boards slid apart. A giant wall of hay bales blocked their way, but once the barn doors closed, the bales swung in, revealing the secret inner chamber.

  The farm machinery placed Nanae’s space-age coffin into a niche in the wall and backed out. Brady stayed close to it, resting his hand on the outside. Camilla’s guard urged her forward. Once she crossed some unseen boundary, the floor moved—or dropped. She was on an elevator with no sides or front. The wall where Nanae’s body nestled was the only thing to move with the floor. Camilla reached out, and Brady steadied her. She snatched her arm away as soon as the lift came to a stop.

  Her guard moved her out of the way as unseen gears started the conveyor belt that took Nanae from his current location to across the room. It groaned under the weight. Perhaps they were unprepared for the tremendous weight of the natural Nephilim form. Someone took the phone from Camilla’s hand. She’d forgotten she was still holding it. She wondered if the Texan had been talking this whole time. Her guard took his earpiece out. Communications must not work underground.

  Her guard gave her a seat close to Nanae’s resting place. She jumped when the container started making noises. Brady had disappeared, and Camilla wondered if she would get a chance to fulfill her promise to kill him for what he’d done to Israel. Her guard—the only man left with them—spoke. “I remember you. Weren’t nearly that pregnant then.”

  Camilla didn’t respond, her attention locked on the tubes of Nanae’s prison. They ran red now. These men were stealing his blood again. Nanae’s life poured into a couple of compartments on the outside of his box. Her guard went to retrieve them and replace them.

  “He’ll never let you keep that. He’ll destroy it,” Camilla barely whispered.

  “See, that’s where you come in, darlin’. You’re our insurance policy on a few levels.” He strapped the largest container to his chest and brought the smaller one to her. He shoved it into her hands. “Drink.”

  “No.” Nanae’s voice came from the container but was clear and loud, as if he wasn’t behind a foot of plastic and another of metal.

  “Glad to see you’re awake. You need to see this.” He opened a sliding door over Nanae’s face, allowing him to see into the coffin. “This thing is designed to trigger the detonator if the air pressure inside changes. Don’t try to break free or transport yourself away. She’ll die if you do.” While his attention was on Nanae, Camilla tipped the beaker, and the blood spilled onto the metal, seamless floor.

  It stung when her guard backhanded her, but he’d held back. He could’ve knocked her out if he wanted. Good thing he didn’t want to. He went to the coffin again and got another container. This time, he didn’t give it to her but held it to her mouth. She clenched her mouth shut. Lilitu couldn’t give birth. She knew Nanae loved her, even if his Beast kept him from telling her, and she would become Lilitu if she drank his blood.

  “This isn’t necessary.” Nanae’s voice soothed her. It told her she would be all right. He was calm, so she was calm.

  “Oh, but it is. I’m takin’ this blood, and I can’t let you destroy it like the last batch. Your Lilitu was with us, and when you destroyed your blood, you also destroyed her. Did you know that would happen? We didn’t. But we learn from our mistakes. That’s why she has to drink before I leave. You won’t be able to destroy the blood if it courses through her veins. Not without killing her. Sure, eventually you’ll stop loving her, but by then, this blood,” he gestured to the container on his chest, “will be indestructible. Once we change the blood, it’s no longer yours to manipulate. That’s why the tranquilizer still works. It’s made from your Lilitu’s blood, but we’ve changed it into a more stable substance, not susceptible to your command.”

  When Camilla didn’t open her mouth, the man fisted her hair and tugged her head back. It was harder at this angle, but she managed to keep her lips sealed. Her attacker sighed and released her hair. She knew he wasn’t giving up but was still stunned by the pain of his blow when he backhanded her again. This time, he hadn’t held back. Blackness encroached on her sight; tunnel vision and stars obscured what little remained. She fought to stay awake.

  Thunder cracked and rolled. Lightning struck Camilla in the shoulder. The pain was intense, and it cleared her vision. She looked to find a bullet hole gushing blood at the center of her pain, and the man put away his smoking gun.

  “Now, you can drink or die. Decide fast. I aimed for your subclavian artery, and by the look of all that blood, I must have hit it. You’ll bleed out pretty quick with a wound like that.”

  Camilla’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at her shooter. Her ability worked to close the gap in her shoulder, but it wouldn’t be fast enough. She was almost drained of power, and there was no ambient energy to gather in this place. She trusted Nanae to save her. She glanced at him, then closed her eyes.

  NANAE WATCHED as his Sinnis bled to death. “She’s dying. Pour my blood on the wound.”

  “You and I both know that won’t work. She has to consume it.” The man quickly poured the blood down her throat. She choked as his first attempt filled her lungs, then her body took over, swallowing great gulps to keep itself from drowning.

  Nanae growled. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he knew it would save her. Like the cells Nephilim use to hold Akhkharu, this box he was in kept him from using his power. The good thing was, she was so drained from healing her brother that her ability was no threat to her baby.

  The child inside her was viable. He could be delivered and survive at this point, but this would be the last child for Camilla if she consumed his blood. One was better than none, and at least now she could live to raise that one.

  The elevator in the corner had gone unnoticed until now, when it opened. The blood thief stepped on as Brady stepped off. The doors closed. The blood was gone. Brady ran to Camilla and scooped her up as if she weighed no more than a feather. “No, no, Chickadee, you can’t die. Wake up. Shit, Nanae, what do I do?”

  “Get her out of here. She’ll live, Izzy, but they forced her to drink my blood. When she wakes, she’ll be Lilitu. She’ll need your help adjusting. Tear off the vest but leave it inside the building somewhere. Run. Fast.”

  Nanae focused on his desire that Israel look like the man who’d tried to kill him in the bathroom of their suite. He would need the disguise to get out of the barn. Izzy, who looked like Brady, ran to the elevator. Nanae watched as the doors closed and wondered if it would be the last time he would see his little family.

  CAMILLA WOKE to a wrenching pain in her abdomen. There was a hurt deep in a place she hadn’t known she could feel pain. Izzy’s vo
ice cooed at her, telling her to hold on; Nanae would be here soon and so would their baby.

  She opened her eyes to find she was being carried by Brady, the man that killed Izzy. The world around them was blurred. She slipped her arm under his. Her palm wrapped around the hilt of his bowie knife strapped to his hip. Ignoring her own discomfort, she unsheathed the blade and plunged it into Brady’s back. “That’s for Israel.”

  “Ahh! Damn that hurts.”

  The world around them stopped whizzing past. They were in someone’s front yard. The grass was soft and well-manicured. Brady laid her down gently, taking his time even though Camilla continued to twist the knife in his back. He grimaced as he stood. He stepped back from her, twisting and turning, trying to grasp the knife protruding from his back. Camilla hoped he couldn’t reach it.

  “Did my arms just get shorter?! This whole changing to match people’s desires shit is getting old.” A screen door slammed. “Go back inside. This doesn’t concern you,” he said. A man stood unmoving on his front porch, the gun in his hand aimed at them both.

  Camilla stared at Brady, mouth agape. “Izzy?”

  He dropped to his knees beside her, effectively blocking the gunman’s view of her. “It’s me, Chickadee.”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “I know. Nanae focused on wanting me to look like the man they sent in to kill me. I’d already shifted when he opened the shower door. He was so stunned at seeing himself that he didn’t even shoot.”

  “I heard shots.”

  Israel, whose face was slowly changing back to normal, looked ashamed. “I killed him, stripped him, tossed him in the shower, and then took his place. It was so steamy that with the shower door closed the other guy who came in didn’t notice it was his buddy in there. I’ve killed eight men today.”