by L F Seitz
My life has been one fuzzy memory after another. The only consistency I’d had was a hot shower, a meal, and a bed. Apparently that’s all one needed to survive – but that was so far from the truth. I needed interaction, relationships, and affection, I still need it. All my foster parents treated me like I was a grenade. They weren’t entirely sure how to handle me, so they just left me alone.
I got out of the shower and looked in the mirror as I dried myself. The black patterns could be seen all over my skin now, a reminder that no matter what, I will always be set apart from everyone else. Though I was grateful humans couldn’t spot the markings. Micah said demons could conceal them but hadn’t showed me how. I was left relying on the soap Micah left me – which I had used and noticed no difference.
Alone once more, I sat and sketched. I drew the shopkeeper, Micah’s markings, my markings, and an image of what I’m afraid I’ll become one day: a terrifying, boney demon, with a protruding spine, and a snake tongue slithering out of its sinister smile.
“And all I lov’d – I lov’d alone –”
–Edgar Allan Poe
Ten.
AS I PREDICTED, MICAH never showed. I went to work, because it was pointless to wait around for someone who obviously didn’t plan on coming back. The day was gloomier, and I noticed a few people from my section had called in sick, meaning more work for me. I busted my butt getting all my orders picked and ready for packaging before I worked on the others they asked me to take care of. I couldn’t be upset, though, since I myself did call in yesterday.
I almost missed lunch because Ben was chatting my ear off. He asked me about Micah and if I was better since I wasn’t there yesterday. I told him it was a stomach bug and that it’s gone now. I didn’t answer his questions about Micah. I didn’t want to talk about him.
I was one of the last people to grab a sandwich from the little food area in the break room where they had fresh daily sandwiches and soups when I spotted Cindy sitting alone and made my way over to her. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, exposing her thin face and long neck; she reminded me of a graceful swan.
“How is Clayton’s basketball going?” I asked as I set my food across from her.
“Oh, he loves it. He’s so good at it. He got a little jersey and everything,” she said. I smiled and sipped my water. “I forgot to ask: are you all right? You were gone yesterday, and I was wondering where you were.”
I reminded myself that this is how friends were supposed to be: worried for one another. Cindy was a good friend, even if I didn’t want to see it at first. I should work harder to be kind to her. “I was sick yesterday, but not so much today, so I decided to try coming to work,” I lied.
“Well, you look kind of sick, but I didn’t want to assume.” She nonchalantly scooted away from me as she told me Clayton’s first game was this weekend, and that I should come. I watched her bite into her sandwich. This is friendship, and I needed to start appreciating it.
“I’ll be there.” My reply surprised her. She told me it was Saturday at five in the gym at the Boys and Girls Club on 52nd Street. She’d talked about her son a few more times, about how adorable he was, and I honestly had never spent time with kids since I was one. It would be nice to finally meet Clayton.
Lunch was over, and we parted ways for our separate sections. I felt better knowing Cindy wanted me to come to her son’s basketball game and that I would finally have someone I could call a real friend. Micah left without a word, and I was stuck having to figure out my genetics alone. With all the unknown weighing on me, I felt like I was going to slowly suffocate with no one to talk to about it. I needed to spend less time in my apartment or I wouldn’t live to 30.
✽✽✽
I’d hoped Micah would be waiting for me at home. I thought back to a night when I found him standing in the corner, his hair glowing and his mysterious aura filling the room. All the things he knew about this other world I was now suddenly a part of rested just behind that blue gaze. He learned so much more about me in the short time we'd spent together then I did of him, but something tells me Micah is like that with everyone he meets; he wears his pain and anger on his sleeve and doesn't make it easy to know him. It was like there was a shadow that followed him wherever he went. Maybe it’s a rain cloud. Thoughts of our encounters made me hate him, yet want to see him at the same time. The mixed emotions frustrated and exhausted me. There was nothing I could do about him now. Food didn’t appeal to me, so I went to bed without eating.
Nox curled up by my head. His fur tickled my cheek, and he purred until he fell asleep. I was falling in love with this cat. Lux, however, was not as cute; he curled up on the far corner of the bed, watching his brother betray him. Lux didn’t seem to like me, he just tolerated me. Whenever his brother came to cuddle, I could see it in his thin black pupils that he felt betrayed. Nox picked me over him. “You can always join in on the cuddling when you get over yourself,” I whispered to Lux. His black slits for pupils remained annoyed, just like Micah. The cat’s white fur reminded me so much of him. No. No Micah thoughts allowed. I didn’t want him living rent-free in my brain when I’m not even a passing thought in his. I was just a job to him, and he dropped me like a sack of potatoes. I did everything in my power to keep from tearing up, because he wasn’t worth it.
✽✽✽
Why am I in an alley? I glanced up and noted my apartment window, confirming my suspicions as to which alley I was in. What is going on? When I peered toward the opening of the alley, several figures with beaming blue orbs in their heads, walked toward me. My throat constricted. This felt so familiar, but I didn’t know why. Regardless, it didn’t matter what I remembered; they were coming to get me, to kill me. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did, and there was nowhere to run.
Someone took my hand. I turned to see Micah, long white tousled hair covering part of his face. He squeezed my fingers, uneasiness filling his features. He squeezed my hand once more then let go. I turned to the creatures, but when I looked back, it wasn’t Micah who was beside me; it was the woman from the bookstore.
“Only you can save them,” she cried.
“Save who? Where is Micah?” I searched the alley frantically, the blue-eyed shadows growing nearer.
“You are Trigenus, blessed with the holy trinity of life.” She spoke in hushed tones, she gripped my hand so tight I thought my bones might break.
“What does that mean?” I asked, but she was gone. I flinched at the shriek the creatures made. The blue-eyed figures had their arms high, holding strange knives, about to come down on me. I wailed with terror as sirens filled my ears, then everything went black.
✽✽✽
I sat up and shoved off the suffocating blankets, I was burning up. Both the cats ran out of the room. I felt bad for freaking them out like that; no one deserved to be woken by screams in the night. That woman was in my dream, the shopkeeper.
Trigenus. Blessed with the holy trinity of life. What did that mean? My throat was parched, so I got up to get water as I recalled the dream again. The coldness of the apartment outside my bedroom felt good on my skin. Everything was changing, and I didn’t know how to handle it all on my own. I wanted things to be different, but this wasn’t what I was wishing for.
With all the swirling newness in my life, it stilled me to latch onto the facts I’d gathered. There is this other world, behind the reality I have been seeing my whole life, that is filled with hunters fighting evil creatures in the night with special blades and glowing skin. I am now labeled a Cambion, which are a species, half demon and half human. I have permanent black markings on my skin, labeling me an outcast for all supernatural creatures to see, if I’m not careful. Cambions are supposed to have maroon markings when dormant, so even on the evil supernatural spectrum, I am not even close to normal. My markings glow – not just red; they can also glow blue. My Cambion eyes aren’t just black like they are supposed to be: they are red. The same goes for my Nephilim form, which aren’t pure
white like Micah’s; my irises are blue. I somehow have angel and demon blood inside me, something that has never been seen or documented before in the Nephilim world. Oh, and a woman who can see the future told me that the only person guiding me through this new world is going to kill me, and now he’s gone AWOL.
In the dim glow of the bathroom nightlight, the scratches on my forehead from startling the cat didn’t look as bad as they felt. I placed my index finger on a scratch and stared at it intently. Purple light surrounded my finger for a moment before vanishing, along with the wound. Why was my healing light purple? Enough questions. I headed for my bedroom. I couldn’t care about that right now – as soon as I did, my mind would go into overdrive and I’d never get back to sleep.
✽✽✽
I decided to sketch. These past few days I had done the most drawing I’d ever done in my life. This sketchbook would soon be filled. A few pages were dedicated to eyes: mine, in all their textured shades, Micah’s, the old lady from the bookstore, and the cat’s. There was a sketch of Micah’s hand when he was healing himself and a few of the bookstore. A page for the demonology book given to me by the storekeeper, which I still haven’t been able to find since I showed Micah. I set it down on my bed the day Micah and I went through it, and when I went looking for it again, it was gone. I searched the whole apartment and found it nowhere. I know Micah wouldn’t take it because it burns his skin; he’d have no way of picking it up.
Once noon hit, I was sick of sketching. I knew what I wanted to do but was afraid to do it because Micah wasn’t here to make sure everything went smoothly. Then again, Micah also made it worse, since his presence alone made my skin warm and tingly with attraction. It drove me insane. I took a breath and went for it; the hell with the Nephilim and their annoyingly gorgeous warrior men.
“Et reducam te in caligine Demon nunc urbs est patris tui. Ostende mihi faciem tuam, et non est misericordia, quae est a carne daemonum interficiam corpus, perit in aeternum misericordia ignis. Et incarnatus est de Angelo, anima tanted ostende.”
As I spoke the demon incantation heat radiated from my diaphragm and seeped into the rest of my body from there. I bent forward a little but forced myself to remain as still as possible. The fire slowly subsided, and before I could take a steady breath, it was gone. I peered at my hands, taking in the red glow that now filled my once-black, dormant markings. The dark markings were like windows of a house, waiting to be aglow with life, and when I saw it, it made me ... more me. I turned toward the bathroom and peeked inside, noting my red irises and the black surrounding them. I wanted to practice the angel incantation and revisit that side of myself, but it scared me. I was too afraid to bring those blue markings out because I still didn’t know what that meant. Micah still hasn’t shown up again at my apartment after the incident with my angel markings, making me more uneasy about it. I rubbed the glowing skin of my arms and tried to focus on that rather than the thoughts of Micah. I felt more energized than the last few times, but still like myself, which meant I could handle this now.
I outstretched my arms and surveyed my hands, wondering what other things I could possibly do with them. Did I have super-strength now? Or maybe speed? I’m sure Micah said something about those things. I wanted to explore my new skills, to really see what I could do, but the knot in my stomach held me back. Images of the first time I had completed the incantation resurfaced, and the way Micah surveyed me in those moments when our hands touched haunted me.
We were still technically strangers, but I felt closer to him than anyone else right now. To anyone in a long time. I was so vulnerable in these past weeks, walking into this all blindly, and he’s been my anchor. Despite what I said before about guiding him, he's been leading both of us in this. Not to mention the fact that he was dangerously handsome, even with those emotionless glares he often gave. I wanted to understand the stress he was under, the confusion and possible fear he had, but he left me here without a word. Unsure of what to do, or when he will come back, and with who. I couldn't condone that. Still, the thought of his rare smirks did something to me.
I walked back out into the living room, catching a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror on the way. I paused and stared at those big ruby irises enclosed in black, paired with the smile across my face. It didn’t look right. It looked sinister.
But that was me: I looked sinister. I was the one who looked evil and about to prowl the night looking for children to eat. This is what Micah saw when he looked at me. Sure, I could turn blue, but what did that matter when that lurked in the same body as this? Blue light meant angelic blood, meant righteousness, and it meant you were good. So how is it lurking in the same body as the blood of a half demon spawn? It didn’t make sense, and for some reason, staring into my red eyes, I felt more myself in the red glow of my skin. It was easier to except the flaws in myself than to hope for any chance at being half angel. Hell didn’t seem so far away to me, but heaven – I don’t think I could ever reach it.
Eleven.
MAKING MY WAY TOWARD the community center building was hell, only colder. My toes were numb, and running only made it worse. I fell asleep this afternoon and didn’t get time to check the bus schedule to figure out what bus to catch, so I had to walk. The neighborhood the community center was in was a bit nicer than the surrounding blocks, with renovated houses and well-kept front porches. Many of the houses on these streets were large and old, but they’d been converted into duplexes for multiple families. Anyone would be lucky to live here. The rest of this area resembled where I lived: old brick commercial buildings either disheveled or outright abandoned. Most of Kenosha appeared alike as you got closer to the lake. The community center itself was a newer-looking building, accented with orange paint and metal sculptures.
I stepped off the sidewalk and into the parking lot. Young kids wearing jerseys of green and yellow walked in with their parents. Energetic families piled out of vans juggling overloaded backpacks and water bottles. I didn’t spot Cindy, I hope she’d not be too hard to find. The atmosphere was thick with noise and heat. There were a lot of people here, more than I would have thought for a small group of kids playing basketball together. Angst moved through me as I did through the crowd, hoping we were making our way to the gym. For a moment, I regretted being here immersed in a sea of people, but I was here for Cindy and Clayton. I needed to be supportive, friendly. The crowd’s roar echoed around the gym’s high ceilings and wall of bleachers.
“Lamia!” I scanned the area for Cindy calling my name. The children were so loud. “Lamia, up here on the bleachers!” I scanned the faces in the bleachers and found her seven rows up, waving both arms in the air at me. I smiled and made my way up to her. When I reached her row, Cindy couldn’t have looked more thrilled. “I’m so glad you could come. You can finally meet Clayton!” She said. She gestured to the man at her left. “This is my fiance and Clayton’s dad, Eli. Eli this is Lamia. She’s my friend from work.” Eli was a well-built man with broad shoulders and thick arms. His mustache matched his blond hair, cut in a military style. I had never imagined Cindy’s boyfriend like this, but I could see now why she couldn’t tell him about Mark at work. He’d eat him for breakfast.
He smiled, and we shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
Kids covered the basketball court, and Cindy pointed to where the little ones warmed up. I could spot Clayton right way because he had Cindy’s almost white-blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked like all the others except for his plump red cheeks and gleaming smile. He was adorable. Cindy waved high in the air as he turned in our direction, and Clayton jumped in the air and waved back eagerly. The other team walked onto the court in their shamrock jerseys, contrasting perfectly with the canary colored jerseys Clayton’s team wore.
“He’s number 11, do you see him?” Cindy asked, bumping my shoulder.
Once I spotted him again, I smiled. “He’s looks like you.”
There must have been more than one hundred people her
e to see the little rugrats play. There was a security guard in front of the gym doors, shaggy blonde hair, looking into the crowd. He was middle aged and stocky, wearing black slacks and a gray button up with a patch on his left shoulder that read K-Security. Why was security needed at something like this? I followed the security guard’s gaze and took in the massive crowd. Crowds made me uncomfortable because there were so many people you didn’t know in a small, enclosed area. I tried to ignore my claustrophobia. I was here for Clayton. The teams began to play, and after only a minute, I was lost. I’d never been a sports fan. I got the gist that you wanted to put the ball in the basket, and if you carried it, that was bad. Also, we were rooting for the yellow team. The rest might as well have been a foreign language.
“Come on, Clayton, grab it from him!” Eli yelled. Cindy cheered along. They looked like a happy family, and that made me feel good.
Though I tried to watch the game, I started to get bored. Every few minutes, the referee was calling a foul, so this game was going to take a really long time. One kid from the green team fell and smacked his face. To my surprise, Clayton ran over and helped him up.
“Does he know that kid?” I yelled to Cindy over the crowd’s din, and she shook her head.
“No, he’s just a good kid.” Her face gleamed with admiration. “He’s always so friendly and latches onto people quickly.” I smiled, too, because in a weird way he reminded me of Micah. Though I don’t know Micah as well as I wish I did, he’s taken time to teach me things I wouldn’t have known how to do otherwise. I wonder if he was like Clayton before he knew he was Nephilim. I just wish he hadn’t abandoned me like he did when I needed him.