by L F Seitz
“Hey, Llama!” He yelled to me with a wave, using my nickname.
I acknowledged him, smiling as we came to the sidewalk closest to the front office building. Ben Westfall was a decent guy: he was nice and smart when it came to troubleshooting problems with the job, but a total flirt, which I wasn’t into. He had the raunchiest photos tapped in his locker, and some of his conversations with the guys about the sex he was having have been cringe worthy. He was stocky, with orange hair and freckles – not bad looking, if I hadn’t known he was a pervert. Ben stepped out from the group of guys he was talking to, forcing me to stop and be social. “Hey, Ben. What’s up?” I asked, not really interested at all. Micah stopped beside me, avoiding Ben’s glance, a look of annoyance on his face.
“Nothing. About to head home. Who is this?” he asked.
I knew this was going to be a hassle. I was already tired and in a bad mood, now I had to socialize, which is exhausting. “This is Micah,” I said.
“Your boyfriend,” Ben said with a smile. I let out a loud, sarcastic laugh, which caught Micah’s attention. “Definitely not. He’s escorting me to a meeting. This is his job.” My words came with venom, but I couldn’t help it. Ben shifted uncomfortably.
“Well, we better go. It was good talking to you. See you tomorrow,” I said, patting his shoulder and walking around him. Ben waved at us.
On our way once again, I paid no attention to Micah, because containing the anger was difficult enough without looking at him. I was bitter about everything up to this point, and lack of sleep as well as working a ten-hour shift made it difficult to control my emotions.
We were another three blocks or so away before we got to the street the bookstore was on. It was late, so almost all the businesses were closed, with dark store windows reflecting out silhouettes as we passed. The farther we walked away from my apartment and MedTech, the less frequent storefronts there were.
The more I thought about him using me – essentially threatening me with death if I didn’t help – the more I wanted to lash out. It wasn’t fair. That, accompanied by fatigue and the growing question mark as to who I really was, made everything worse.
“Do you mind explaining your problem? I’m having a hard time keeping up.” His tone was flat. I bit the inside of my cheek, concentrating so hard not to let the rage in. Ever since we met, this anger was like a rabid wolf begging to rip something apart. I lashed out at people I would have never lashed out at before. When I snapped at the bookstore woman, when I yelled at Jennifer, got in Mark’s face. I stood up to bullies, but I was never vicious about it. It could be our shared temperature fluctuations, being enemies, or the fact that he was an ass; I couldn’t tell at the moment.
“I’d rather not discuss anything about how I feel anymore, since whatever this is,” I said, motioning between the two of us, “you’ve made it obvious it is just for information.”
“Hold on,” he said, grabbing my arm to stop us. “Are you angry with me? About helping me? Is that why you said you’re just a job to me?”
“Oh, now you want to talk about me and my problems? Are you sure? Is there anything in your laws that states you have to? Wouldn’t want you to overexert yourself.” He flinched at the acid in my voice. My arm shook in his grip, my energy ramping up with the anger. I tested his grasp, but it remained steady and harsh.
“Your dramatic feelings are clouding your judgment. This is information we both need. Don’t you want to know how this woman knew your name? Or if she saw how you were going to die? You’re being ridiculous right now,” he clapped back without hesitation. His voice disappeared into a ringing sound in my ears, the indignant response rekindling the inferno he was responsible for awakening. No, no, Lamia. Control it. My lungs were on fire, and I couldn’t breathe. Come on, Lamia, just breathe. Don’t let the demon in. I glanced at Micah, who had taken a step back, his hand on his blade. I hated that look, like I was a threat. This was his fault. This would have never happened if he had left me alone that night.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I couldn’t control the overwhelming heat as the demonic side of me took over. My lungs were doused in gasoline and set ablaze. The anger didn’t abate, and if I didn’t secure it, I’d burn alive. I put both my hands onto the brick wall of the closed vacuum repair shop we’d stopped in front of and tried to regain control. Come on, Lamia. Calm down. The fire within me wasn’t going away. Why couldn’t I control it? Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I tried to focus, but I was so scatterbrained. I won’t cry, not in front of Micah. I whimpered as I sucked in air. I was falling to pieces in the middle of the street, and there was nothing I could do. Micah couldn’t help me; he doesn’t see me as anything but a threat to babysit until I explode. You’re such a mess. You’re stronger than this. You can do this. I felt Micah’s hand on my forearm, diffusing the heat, but the angry erupted as I broke concentration.
“Don’t,” I said, pushing him away. “I don’t want to hurt you.” There was a loud thud, and he was lying in the middle of the road. I blinked. Without meaning to, I’d tossed him aside like a rag doll. Suddenly, my knees buckled, and I fell to the ground. I sucked in a large breath and exhaled with relief as the heat disappeared. I pushed up the sleeve of my jacket, observing my glowing red marks now once again black.
Micah he was already standing. Despite being the one thrown, he showed concern as I shuffled next to him, attempting to steady me. Dirt and scuffs covered the back of his jacket. The fear of hurting him had turned it off. “That’s the last time I let down my guard,” he grumbled. He was all right. Once he noticed I, too, was fine, his face hardened and my eyebrows drew together.
“You never let down your guard,” I said to his annoyance.
“I did more than you realize,” he said. Once back on the sidewalk, he let go of my arm and pulled his tousled hair back. My emotions were all over the place. One moment he was insulting me, and the next he was surveying me with concern. This whole situation was kicking the crap out of both of us. Maybe neither of us knew how to feel.
“You are mad, or at least you were.” He paused for a deep breath. He, too, was striving to control his anger. “Losing control of yourself like that can be dangerous. You’re lucky it was me you just threw across the street. Whatever upset you, you need to put it aside. We do this, we need to be on the same page.” He brushed some salt off his shoulder from the road before turning to me again.
“Easy for you to say.” I crossed my arms. Part of me was legitimately angry I had discovered Micah followed law over morality. In the end, he didn’t believe in me; he believed in the law. Did he even get how hard this was for me? He just threw this in my face the other day – a demonic species I am apparently a part of – and didn’t even bother to revisit it? Or ask how I was dealing with it? Another part of me thought that if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t even be here. Right? That I wouldn’t be here. He needed me to help him, though, so maybe I was only here because I was of use. Ugh! This was so confusing.
“What is with you? Yesterday, you were so cooperative and just ... not bitchy.” This wasn’t the time for him to call me names.
I exploded. “Do you even think before you speak? Or how your face looks when you talk? You know, the expressions you make and how people perceive how you feel? Do you even take into account what I might be feeling about all this? For being half-human, you sure are inconsiderate.”
“I get it, you’re overwhelmed. Well, so am I. Aside from this, there are other things, bigger things going on here. That is why I’m trying to figure out- ”
“No, you don’t get it. This isn’t just some cold I’ve been diagnosed with or blemish that can be fixed. This is my blood. I am half-demon, I am half-damned, whether I’m a good person or not. Whether I do good things or not. Whether I want to be different or not. I’m condemned before I have a chance to make my own choices because the choices have been made for me. And no matter where I go, I will be hated by someone. You aren’t making it any easier.”
<
br /> The heat built up again.
“When I saw you Saturday morning after you’d carried me home and we talked, I thought you wanted to help me. I don’t know what I was thinking. You were just there to help yourself. All of this is to help yourself.” I was bitter with resentment. I pressed my palms to my eyes as I breathed through my nose, calming myself before I lashed out again. It was my childhood all over again, just a different shade. Being a foster kid, I didn’t really have a home, and having my social worker Susan assigned to me made me feel less like a person and more like a job to be completed. Sadness practically smothered me.
We reached the red brick and navy chipped paint of the Avalon's Books storefront. In the darkness, you could barely make out the children’s books on display if it weren’t for the candles. The gold letters above the door were faded, and the lights that sat above were burned out. The sidewalks were in disrepair, and the buildings surrounding the place were abandoned. Even the wind settled a little on this block. Regardless, I wanted to get this over with so I could get out of this cold. “What's the plan?” I asked.
“You go inside first and talk to her, and I’ll listen from afar,” he said. “Ask her about that book. While she’s explaining, seize her and say an incantation. It will bind her to you and weaken her, so long as you’re touching her. Then I will come in and ask her some questions.” It was a good plan – except for the how I have to do everything. I rolled my shoulders trying to release some of the building anxiety.
“Why can’t you just come in with me?”
“I stepped into the threshold before the door last night and was hit with immense pain, meaning the woman has something guarding her store from Nephilim. I’d probably kill me if I were to step inside. Regardless of what it is, I can’t enter. Add that information to what you told me about her knowing our names something tells me there is something demonic about this store.” He scanned the block. He seemed tense. His paranoia was starting to get to me.
“What is this incantation I need to say?” I asked. The longer we stood here, the more I was losing my nerve.
“Per virtutem caeli et inferni, me tibi obligo.”
“What does it mean?”
“Through the powers of Heaven and Hell, I bind you to me. As long as your skin is touching hers, it will work. I don’t know what she is exactly, so this spell is generic.” The words what she is exactly made me jittery. I gnawed at the inside of my cheek. What was I getting myself into?
Candles illuminated the store’s windows. Part of me was surprised it was open this late. It had to be nearly midnight by now.
“Ready?” he asked. I agreed, my expression natural as I played it cool. In truth, I was terrified. What if the woman attacked me and became a demon herself? What if she had fangs and claws? I shook away the fear and forced myself forward. Maybe she did know something about me. Maybe she could confirm what Micah has told me so far. Even if there were a small chance, I had to take it.
“When are you going to come in?” I was delaying the inevitable now.
“I will be listening. When you break the Nephilim ward, I’ll be right behind you,” he said.
“What’s a ward?”
“Warding off something? There are different routes that can be used to ward off demonic entities or angelic ones, whether it be spells, herbs, symbols.” He squinted at me before crossing his arms. “Stop delaying.”
I gulped in a big breath. She might freak out from just seeing me. I was wearing normal clothes compared to the last time I was here, in my work gear, so maybe she wouldn’t recognize me. I pulled up my hood to hide my black hair. I yanked the heavy wood door open and walked inside, the bell above the door rang. How was the bookstore still open? The hours were weird. I slithered in slowly.
“Hello, anyone there?”
The woman’s voice faintly echoed back to me. Was she in the back somewhere? Fear edged its way up my throat.
I panicked. “I wanted to ask about a book I bought a week ago,” I said. My voice squeaked as I spoke. I almost gagged on my tongue after shutting my mouth so fast. I sounded exactly like Cindy, like she was standing next to me. Was that another ability I had that Micah had forgotten to tell me about – mimicking voices?
“All right. Give me a moment,” she called out.
The counter was a long island separate from anything else, cluttered with books, incense, and a gray register that looked like it was from the 90s. Just behind the counter was a small doorway, with a long piece of maroon fabric tacked across it, separating what I assumed was the back storage room from the store. It was hard to see in the limited light, since there was nothing but candles to illuminate the way, but the store appeared the same as the day Cindy and I came in.
Without second-guessing myself, I darted around the register and flattened myself against the wall beside the doorway to the back storage room. I had to catch her by surprise. It was the only way I could get my hands on her to say the incantation.
Her footsteps approached. My pulse quickened as I waited with anticipation. Her hand was now in view as she moved the curtain, then her head popped out. I grabbed her wrist as hard as I could and started spitting words.
“Per virtutem caeli et inferni-”
I was cut off by something clawing the side of my face. I screeched as she ripped her hand from my grasp and took off between bookshelves on the opposite end of the store. My face burned as I chased after her. I got close enough to grab her, but she turned and clawed my neck this time. I screamed again. The pain threatened to still me altogether. Despite her age she was much stronger than I thought. She’d get away because I’m not strong enough, and the anger of that fact grew in my belly. My nerves crackled and sparked with the awaking of my tainted blood. I clutched her by the shoulder and pulled her back, knocking her into a bookcase and sending it falling into the wall. Her fear showed as the red glow from my markings lit the darkness around us, it came to the surface without a word. I knew what she was. I could smell it. I gripped her throat with my hand and squeezed. She dug her nails into my wrist in an attempt to get me to let go. I couldn’t help but smile as she squirmed, victory within my grasp.
“Per virtutem caeli et inferni, me tibi obligo,” I growled. The fear faded from her as annoyance took its place. “Take down the Nephilim ward, please.” My tone was unrecognizable. Nothing happened, so I squeezed a little harder. The bones bending under my hand nauseated me; however, I remained steady. “I won’t ask again.” Her mouth gaped open as her throat spasmed for air. She lifted a hand and snapped her fingers. A minute passed before Micah was by my side, his shoulder touching mine.
“Don’t kill her,” he said. I relaxed my grip enough for her to breathe. She gasped, her grasp on my wrist loosening.
“A Nephilim and Cambion working together?” She grinned at the two of us.
“What are you?” Micah asked, ignoring her comment. She didn’t break his glare as she yanked away the collar of her shirt to reveal a weird symbol atop her left breast.
“You’re a demon harlot. Your ability is to see the future? I assume that’s why your master keeps you.”
The woman said nothing.
“Why did you warn me to stay away from Micah? What am I?” I blurted out, and Micah stiffened.
“I’ve seen a lot of things about you,” she said, observing me. “You are special, you are beautiful, but you will die.” My blood ran cold as I peered to Micah. He, too, was surprised.
“Does she die in The Rising? When is The Rising? Who is planning it?” He demanded in a rush, like we were running out of time.
“Your mother used to come here long ago,” the woman said, nodding at me. Ignoring Micah’s questions. “That is how she met him, but he is invisible to me. I never saw or heard him. My master spoke of it once.”
This woman knew my mother? My mind was scattered into a million pieces, trying to process so much while trying to keep control of the situation. My wounds throbbed as I grew weak, working harder to keep
her held to the ground.
“Your mother was kind to me, though she is why I have wards now,” she said. “I have foreseen her daughter’s death, and it comes at the hand of Micah.”
“And the uprising? Who’s behind it?” Micah demanded, disregarding her foresight of my death. “I do not know; I have not foreseen that, but Orias will know.”
“Is Orias your master?”
My arm began to shake as the woman nodded, answering Micah’s question while still watching me. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold the connection between the woman and me. I wanted to ask her about my mother, but before I could get out the words, she spoke.
“Though he be cast out, thy blood of his kin and of his wings still lingers beneath hell fire. She was called to him and caged within his kingdom for eternity. Descendent of heaven, spawn of hell, and forged through a soul. Young Trigenus.” She was speaking to me, but I didn’t understand what it meant.
“We should go. I can feel something coming,” Micah said. I could smell it: dark and potent.
“We leave her alive?” I did not want to kill her, but letting her go was like asking for more trouble, leading her master to us.
“She won’t say anything about us. She’s only as good as her gift in her old age. Her master is looking for any reason to get rid of her.” Micah smirked smugly at the woman. “We won’t tell anyone where we got our information. Just tell your master someone broke in for money.”
Then I let her go. Before I knew it, we were outside. The cold air hit me, and I clutched at Micah, the world around us going in and out of focus as I blinked. A small gasp escaped his lips.