The Rising

by L F Seitz

  “Lamia, come out,” Micah said. I shook my head, though he couldn’t see it. I couldn’t lie to myself: I was afraid of Micah, afraid now that I could see what he saw that night. “Lamia, please, come out. I won’t hurt you. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “How do you know?” I demanded, sounding angry rather than terrified.

  “I did a background check.”

  It was quiet for another moment as I considered his words. I pulled my sweatshirt back on, opened the door and peered out.

  “Lamia.”

  Micah spoke just above a whisper. His velvety voice beckoned me to look at him. His pure-blue irises locked onto mine. The heavy heat I’d felt earlier was tenfold now, hotter than anything I’d ever felt. I held the doorframe for support as we stared at each other, my chest heaving as the sensation built. His gaze dropped, moving down my body.

  I want him.

  It’s as though my body was a magnet and he was the metal. I want to connect to him and never let go. I shook my head, trying to stop myself from wanting him. This was all too much. I crumbled again and fell to the floor, but everything stills. I open my eyes to find myself in Micah’s embrace. I lifted my fingers to graze his cheek, pushing his hair behind his ear. He released me in the same breath and stepped away. Instantly, I was hot again, as if I sat in the belly of an oven. The strange heat that prickled my skin whenever we were close seemed to dissipate whenever we touched. Does he not get a release from the cold he once spoke of when we are near one another? Or is he afraid of it?

  Before I knew it, I was on my feet. He reached forward, stopping me when only a foot separated us. His breath turned to steam. He was affected by our connection, too, but unlike me, he didn’t want to pursue it. I turned away, embarrassed, cringing as I twisted from raw pain to something else. Something dark.

  “Micah, how do I turn back?” I croaked.

  “Clear your mind,” he said. “Envision yourself going back to your human form.”

  Suddenly, I was a puppet, and my strings disappeared, sending me crashing to the floor. My limbs went limp and numb. I overexerted myself, so much so I nearly went unconscious. Is this how it will always be? I felt the swaying motion of being carried but couldn’t sense his arms around me. I spoke as Micah set me on my bed.

  “Just because I’m cursed doesn’t mean I’m damned. I can use my powers for good, can’t I? I can use my abilities to help Nephilim.”

  Micah didn’t respond.

  “Micah, damn it, answer me. Could I?”

  “I don’t know, Lamia,” he replied, and the pieces of my heart sank.

  Seven.

  IT WAS STILL DAYLIGHT when I woke, but Micah was gone. First thing I noticed was my skin, covered in dark black lines across my entire body. These must be my markings. Micah explained how mine were different; they were supposed to be red because all Cambions had red. Now these will be here forever? The cats were still comatose in front of the heater. In the kitchen, I noticed the mug Micah used and my glass weren’t in the sink. Had he washed them before he left? I opened my fridge, and, with a groan, saw I’d forgotten I had to go grocery shopping. I took my jacket and wallet and made my way to the nearest supermarket, which was Aldi, ten blocks away. I needed more coffee and some food for easy meals: cereal, mac and cheese, hot dogs. Mostly microwave meals. Occasionally, I’d take the time to make dinner, like chicken and broccoli casserole or burgers and fries, but I preferred the easy method.

  Back at home, the cats were on my recliner, meowing up a storm. The black one kept rubbing against my legs as I put the groceries away, so after I was done, I poured them some more food and water. They ate as I heated up my meal: chicken broccoli with alfredo sauce and noodles. Once full, I sat in my recliner and pulled out my sketchbook, starting with my inner demon. The way I’d seen it yesterday. I doodled images from my encounter with Micah, but quickly became frustrated, stowing my book back in the recliner’s pocket. Instead, I decided to take a long, hot shower – in darkness, since the switch was broken. Staring back at me from the mirror were the same dark brown irises I always saw. Not as innocent as they’d once appeared, now that I knew what lingered beneath.

  Hot water beat down and melted the tension in my shoulders, steam was thick around me like fog. The sensation pulled all the energy out of me. This weekend had ended too quickly. I wanted more time to figure all of this out, more time to follow this lead, Micah, in hopes of finding out more about this new part of me.

  After my shower, I trudged to my bedroom and dressed for bed. I flopped onto my bed, and thought about work tomorrow. My new roommates – the cats – curled into balls beside me. “I should name you, right?” I thought for a while. The only things I ever named were inanimate objects, like my stuffed hippo Nathan. I once named my pencil bag: it was in the shape of a whale, and his name was Boe. He was taken from me a week after a got him, along with all my pencils because I left him unattended on my desk. “How about Lux?” I said to the white cat, then studied the black one. “And you’ll be Nox.” Lux meant light in Latin, and Nox meant dark. The names fit perfectly. I smiled to myself at the sudden realization of the words; I guess Micah wasn’t wrong about me knowing Latin. I wondered what other things would start popping up now that I’d been exposed to this new world. Nox snuggled into Lux’s side, purring. I wondered how it felt to have such a connection with another living thing.

  Guardian of my unconscious, please pull the shroud over me and take over so I can forget for a while.

  Nothing happened.

  Eh. So much for trying.

  ✽✽✽

  Today was one of those leave-me-alone days but, I was nice to Cindy. She was chipper, since her 6-year-old son was starting an extracurricular basketball team tomorrow after pre-school. She got my mind off of Micah and this newfound demonic part of me for a little while and didn’t mind that I wasn’t acting my usual aloof self. I didn’t have the energy to do anything but stare off 90 percent of the time and frown. There was all this newness that reframed the world I thought I knew. It was hard to keep it together without acting as if was going into a coma from all the information I’d gained in one afternoon. I can’t even begin to fathom what else there is lurking in Micah’s mind that he hasn’t yet told me. Though, I’m kind of glad Cindy and I don’t work in the same section, because if I had to talk to anyone for more than a few minutes I would explode. I was only working on half power today, making my quota for work lower than usual. Once it was time for shift switch, I felt both excited and relieved. The end of shift always gave me an extra boost, despite the knowledge I had to return tomorrow. As I left, I wished Cindy luck with her son’s basketball. She was still ecstatic about it for him, I was happy for her. I wondered if having kids was really as great as Cindy claimed. I had already written it off.

  My parents couldn’t keep me, and there was never a reason disclosed in my files that my social worker found. Some of my foster parents seemed to like me at first, but when I would get in trouble at school, or they would have money problems, they would request me to be removed, or they simply grew distant from me. Jennifer was one of the two who had me removed. The first time I was removed was because my foster parent left me in a car when I was around the age of four. Phil and Dorothy were not the first to grow distant from me: at age seven, I was in a foster home with a woman in her 50s named Bern. She had four other foster children. It was the most she’d ever taken at a time, which is when I noticed how short the system was on foster parents. She could have been my grandmother. It was rare that she’d even talk to me, let alone remember I was there. Now that I’m older, I can see she did have quite a lot to deal with, but seven-year-old me was not so understanding. I hated her because I thought she hated me. I don’t think children will ever be for me.

  It was getting colder outside, and tomorrow was supposed to hit zero degrees Fahrenheit. My breath appeared as white steam as I pulled my coat collar around my face and continued my walk toward my apartment. The icy wind stu
ng as I treaded on. I couldn’t wait to be home and in front of the heater.

  As I pulled myself up the steps to the second floor, it was as if I entered a sauna. The apartment manager must have finally cranked up the heat to try to hide the fact that most of the crap here is broken.

  Before I could turn on the light inside, I could see him standing, arms crossed, in the corner by the window. His long white hair glistened. I didn’t know how I felt in that moment: happy to see him again or angry because of how he left things the last time I saw him. That, and the fact that he somehow had gotten in here without my knowing.

  “You’re probably wondering why I left yesterday,” he said. “I got a call for a meeting. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “What meeting?” I asked as I set my bag on the kitchen counter.

  “It was about new information, rumors we’re getting about The Rising,” he replied. My body tensed as the memory of his knife at my throat flashed across my mind. I shuddered.

  “Rumors?” I asked.

  “Reports of Cambions being increasingly reckless, the rate of possessions rising rapidly, and they’re kidnapping people, humans.”

  “For what, exactly?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  “We think the Cambions are rallying, due to the demonic population in the entire midwestern area increasing. There has only been whispers of an uprising of evil. We know something’s going to happen; we just need to know where or when.” He sighed, picking a stray piece of lint off his shirt before crossing his arms. I could see the bags under his eyes as I walked closer. He looked so exhausted. “There is no solid evidence but we know it’s something big. It has to be an uprising.” He blinked slowly as he leaned back and thudded against the wall with his shoulders. Did this man ever sleep?

  “Can I help?” I asked. I waited for a few breaths, but he said nothing. He just stared out into the darkness beyond the window. It was pitch black out, aside from the distance streetlights casting shadows at the mouth of the alley way. I continued to wait, but he said nothing, and the heat that accompanies his presence boiled my veins, whispering for me to push back, to argue, and I was tempted to give in. I was tired from working ten hours and irritated about how he’d just left the other day. Now he’s back because it’s convenient for him. What about when I woke up yesterday after he left? Did he not think I needed help understanding what had happened when I nearly passed out from my powers? Why should I offer my help at all?

  “Then why are you here?” I asked, annoyed. I sat on the recliner, pulling the hair band from my hair and letting my short waves fall around my face. He exhaled slowly as he slid against the wall onto the floor. We beheld each other for a long moment, and I wondered what he searched for in my stare.

  “I can’t shake this feeling that you’re part of it all somehow.” His voice was calculated as he studied me. as I tore my gaze from his I began to pick at my cuticles, confused and agitated. What did he want from me? It was obvious I still needed answers; I was new to all of this, so needing him for that purpose was basically written on my forehead. I had no idea what he wanted, though, why he came back around so many times. Was it to watch me? Had he decided now, after he heard new information about The Rising, that he wanted to kill me after all? I had no information for him and no abilities with which to help. I wasn’t contributing to the cause, but still he sat in my apartment saying nothing.

  “You’re here to kill me for real now,” I stated reluctantly.

  “No, Lamia, I’m not going to kill you,” he said, sounding irritated. I couldn’t hide the relief on my face as I stared at the floor. I know why he didn't kill me, and I know he doesn't trust me, so what are we doing here? We're supposed to be mortal enemies, I had no information to contribute about this Rising, and I couldn’t help the good guys because I’m half demon. I'm the villain and he's the hero, so the only explanation I can find for his presence after leaving yesterday is that he has come back to finish the job.

  “Why not?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No, but,” I trailed off. Outside, there were a few stars visible in the sky. I watched them and thought about everything he’d told me up until this point. “I’m not by any means a martyr, but if it’s for the greater good, I mean I'm just going off what you have told me ... I don’t know.” This exhaustion was making my head fuzzy. I didn’t know how to go about all this. It was nearly 11 at night, and I was frustrated and upset, and now more confused than ever.

  “Lamia, let me ask you something: based on what you’ve learned recently, describe a Cambion to me.” Out of my peripheral, I could see him with his arms on his knees as he cracked his knuckles.

  I cleared my throat. “They are the product of a human and demon. They ascend when they are thirteen. They have specific abilities –”

  “No, those are all facts. Tell me characteristics. Who are they?” he asked. I focused on my hands in my lap, fidgeting with the edge of my inner pant leg.

  “They are corrupt? They only care about themselves, and they’re destructive, I guess. They’re manipulative and play tricks on people.”

  Micah studied me for a moment before standing abruptly, clenching and releasing his fists a few times over. The air between us grew tense as I could feel the anger emanating off him.

  “They are selfish beings, Cambions. They’re sadists, manipulative, and they enjoy others’ agony. They are cunning and hard to spot to the untrained eye. If you aren’t careful, they will trick you into stepping in front of a bus. They are sick and cruel things.”

  The heat of irritation in my limbs grew. I fought between wanting to be offended and caring at all. I frowned, staring at my fidgeting fingers. I thought about my own history: I played tricks on people, but I never did anything that would actually hurt someone. Even so, I felt nauseated. He was describing what I would become. I’d be one of those things one day, wouldn’t I? He would know.

  “Lamia, you’re nothing like the typical Cambion. Do you understand that? You’re special, unique, peculiar.” His voice was strained as he rubbed his forehead with his hand.

  The compliment put me in a daze.

  “You’re so focused on your human emotions that you don’t see how unique you are. You are not claimed by any demon. No one has taught you the ways of Cambions, so you are still as innocent as any human being. You aren’t sadistic or selfish. I won’t – can’t kill you. Nephilim law says only the damned can be hunted, and you aren’t.”

  Wait. So it was only because of his law that he didn’t kill me, his people’s law. Not any feelings he had for me. He spoke as if he believed in me as a person, that I could be good despite the darkness in me, and then turned around and slapped a law in my face. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. So does that mean he wants to? I slowly stood and rested my forehead on the window’s glass. There was an emptiness that expanded in my ribcage, and I wasn’t sure why it was even there. He was still a stranger, and yet knowing this now, I was hurt. He was doing his job, and I’d let my emotions get the better of me. I’d let myself think that he believed in me, that I could overcome this darkness and he was taking a chance on me. He wasn’t killing me because he couldn’t. Not because he didn’t want to.

  “What happens now?” I asked. Wisps of thoughts of what he might do next flew around my mind, the worst being him taking me to his people who would proceed to treat me like an experiment.

  “Well, I came to give you this,” he said, tossing a bottle to me. I clumsily caught it. It was unmarked and looked to be filled with green goo. “Being a Cambion, you have the ability to hide your markings, but since you don’t know how to hide them yet, use this. Wash with it. It will conceal your markings to humans whenever you’re out in public so no one else recognizes you like I did.”

  I arched a brow at him. Why did he suddenly give a crap whether or not others recognized me? I was a dead woman walking anyway.

  “Also, I figured you could help me talk to that bookstore lady. She seemed to lik
e you,” he said. Micah shoved his hands in his pockets and proceeded toward the door.

  The arrogance. Now he was even asking me to help, just assuming I would help him. The heat in my bones amplified as the pieces of what was happening fell together. He didn’t kill me because of a law, but I’m still considered evil, so I’m still a danger. He could take me to his people but he hasn’t, and he hasn’t killed me, which means he needs something. He plans on using me to figure out whatever that something is, and I have no choice but to follow him if I don’t want to meet an early grave.

  I set the bottle on the counter to pull on my coat and mittens. “Let’s go,” I said. There was a part of me that lingered in the fire, whispering how I could use him as well for information about myself and his people, but I was too hurt to care. I didn’t want to think about it.

  I mulled over Micah’s words while we walked to the bookstore. When he called me special, I had hope for a moment – hope that someone believed I could be more than my circumstances. That he saw me as a person and wanted to help me for the sake of it. What a pitiful dream. I was so bitter about it that it was hard not to make a face. Why did I think someone who nearly killed me could actually give a shit about me? He’s using me as free manpower with the unsaid agreement that if I didn’t cooperate, he’d killed me. I’m the evil one? Holding in my rage was going to be difficult with lack of sleep and in the presence of this jerk.

  Even with him walking right beside me I felt alone. It was hard not to feel alone in a world full of prideful people like Micah full of arrogant superiority because he just happened to be born on the right side of the gene pool.

  Eight.

  BEFORE I KNEW IT, WE were passing the facilities for MedTech. The three-story office building was close to the sidewalk, with a large concrete stairway leading to the glass doors. Following it back, one could identify where the building changed into a warehouse, where the brick ended and the aluminum siding began. At the end of the office building is where the warehouse workers entered and exited, which led into the parking lot. Those who didn’t have cars usually congregated at the sideway where the parking lot opened to the street. A few guys stood out on the apron between the sidewalk and the street. I recognized Ben, the lead of my department.