The Rising

by L F Seitz

  “So how many are there? Your people,” I said, changing subjects.

  “Hundreds, thousands of us, scattered around the world on compounds like the one near here.” He explained that to an outsider, the compound probably looked like a bunch of unkempt buildings, but it was meant to look like that, to keep people who happened to come across the compound from looking into it further. He’d lived there since he was thirteen. It was a twenty-acre lot with apartment complexes, a medical center, school, training facility, and everything they needed to stay invisible when doing their jobs. Things like that taxi he used the night I met Orias.

  He explained how there were around 200 people on base during the day, and that the surrounding blocks were also apart of the compound, protecting it from humans. Any houses in the immediate area were used for larger families or guests visiting the compound. Nephilim ran the businesses surrounding the fenced-in area, like the grocery store and mechanic shop, but humans also used the businesses. I’d like to see it one day, but I didn’t think it was possible. He hadn’t told anyone about me, stating that he needed more proof regarding The Rising before exposing me to them, and I doubt we will find more. Asmodeus is the only one with answers and he is a Prince of Hell. Besides, even if we did find the answers we needed, there would never be enough information to give them to keep them from killing me. I couldn’t help but think about what his friends might be like. Micah would be popular – especially with women.

  “Is your apartment big?” I asked.

  He patted the cushion beside him. “No, it’s smaller, and I always find myself going somewhere and sleeping there instead. The only places I sleep are here and maybe my mentor Jimiah’s.”

  It felt an odd honor to have him spend his nights here. Feeling comfortable enough and safe enough to sleep in the same place as I did. I’d spent years in houses without ever really feeling at home because the people who took me in never made me completely welcomed. I was always just a long-time visitor. For Micah to sleep here and be more comfortable here than his own apartment, it made this place a home. As long as he was here.

  “A lot of friends? I mean, you’re so friendly,” I said sarcastically, risking the question.

  Micah’s laugh echoed mine. “Five really good ones. Jimiah was my mentor.”

  “A girlfriend?”

  That one made him turn to me. I glued the smile on my face, keeping it light. We were finally relaxing into what felt like decent conversation. Normal conversation.

  “Ha. No.”

  “I find that extremely hard to believe,” I said, regretting it as soon as it came out. Friends talk like this, right? I guess the sudden comfort of this new friendship got the best of me, and the words bubbled up and out on their own. I could see Micah looking at me as I fidgeted with my shirt again.

  “Do you think I would be here all the time if I did?”

  “Guess you’re right.” My body was so warm I swear sweat was accumulating on my neck. The flow of this was almost too easy.

  I ended up asking about Porta Caeli, which I expected him to ignore, but he didn’t. He explained that Porta Caeli is the Nephilim capitol, located in the Mediterranean behind an invisibility shield to keep it from the human eye. It has ancient buildings, similar to Israel’s old architecture, and the oldest Punic scripts in the world. There is only one woman there who reads Punic, doing what she can to decipher the old symbols. It is also the place where all of our blades are consecrated with blessed waters that lie in an underground cave. Porta Caeli is also where the Divine Counsel resides, consisting of representatives from each major continent who judge the most difficult problems sent to them from hundreds of Nephilim compounds. He said he’s only seen pictures, but it would be an honor to visit.

  My questions grew silly from there, because despite yearning for knowledge that I could use, I couldn’t help but want to connect with Micah. I wanted to know the little, insignificant things that made him a complete person. I could have used this opportunity for many other things, but I found myself wanting only one thing: to know Micah.

  “What’s your favorite movie?” Micah asked.

  I opened my mouth to answer as his phone began to vibrate. He snatched it up so quickly and answered, I hadn’t even had time to close my mouth.

  “Yes.” Micah’s tone shifted dramatically, turning cold and pointed. He sat there for a moment, nodding, as he took in the information from whoever was on the other end.

  “Twenty-five minutes,” he said, shutting the phone and shoving it into his pocket. “The Arch Counsel of my people’s compound is having another meeting. Apparently something has happened,” he said to me.

  It was hard to hide the disappointment on my face, so I turned away as I stood. “All right, well, see you later, I guess. I hope everything is OK.”

  I handed him his jacket, and we walked together to the door. He didn’t look back at me until he was standing in the hall.

  “I hope that was enough to hold you off for awhile,” he said. I blushed furiously, shaking my head.

  “Not even close.” A moment later, he was gone, and I was alone. It was the first time in awhile I’d been alone in my apartment, and if I was being honest, I didn’t care for it. Not anymore.

  “I dwelt alone,

  In a world of moan,

  And my soul was a stagnant tide.”

  – Edgar Allan Poe

  Fifteen.

  MORNING LIGHT GLARED off the yellow wall blinding me as I woke. I stretched out across my bed, and took my time to fully wake up. The cats still slept soundly at the end of the bed near the heater, and I noticed then how chilly it was in here. It was getting colder outside – November was brutal – and the heater wasn’t working. I searched for the socks I kicked off sometime in the night, along with my sweatpants, both I couldn't seem to find.

  Coffee was the goal, and I didn’t need to be fully dressed to have it. I filled the back of the Bunn coffeemaker with water and was quick with the grounds. The coffeemaker sputtered to life, and I released my tight ponytail and scratched my scalp in celebration, making an obnoxious noise as I did.

  “Morning,” Micah said from the couch, his voice thick with sleep. I nearly ducked behind the cabinets when I realized he was here. He was lying across the length of the couch, shoes still on, and his jacket covering his upper body.

  “I didn't even realize- when did you get in?” I took a breath, pretending to act normal as I stared at my bare legs.

  “Like ... a few hours ago?” Micah seemed drunk with exhaustion, his eyelids drooped heavily as he smacked his lips together.

  “Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.” I peered at the half-filled coffee pot. “You want coffee? Or are you going to fall back asleep?”

  As I opened up the cabinet I spotted another mug sitting next to mine. I bit my lower lip working to hide my smile as I pulled it out to examine it. “This is yours, I presume?” I held out the white cup with blue snowflakes scattered across the ceramic.

  “Brought it back from Jimiah’s last night,” Micah yawned. His eyes closed again as he stretched across the couch, his one foot falling to the floor. It was obvious he did not want to get up yet.

  “Well, when you decide to get up, the coffee is waiting.”

  “OK,” he mumbled, and found it quite difficult to night find his sleepy appearance adorable.

  I filled my mug and quickly encased it in my hands, sucking in the warmth. I regarded Micah until his breath was heavy and steady. It was stupid to come out here with my bare thighs; I should have known he was going to come back. If only I was brave enough to stand my ground and wear what I wanted in my own place, but I enjoyed the comfort of his presence here to much to do anything that might make him leave permanently.

  I snuck to the recliner, took my sketchpad from the pocket, and returned to my bedroom before he could wake. I needed to occupy myself while he slept, since I didn’t work on Saturdays and didn't feel cleaning my room. Making myself comfy in bed, I sketc
hed the cats again. I needed to practice drawing fur. I first framed out Nox, who was motionless and easy to do, then picked a position for Lux’s head to permanently be in, since he kept moving as he cleaned his brother. Once they were framed, I worked on the details of their face and fur. Once that was done I began to shade Lux in the sketch, because he looked like he was slowing to a stop and I wanted to get the lighting right.

  When it was done, I admired it for a while. It was a decent drawing, though one of the ears was hard to look at without wanting to erase it altogether.

  “I like it,” Micah’s voice whispered into the room. “The sketch, I mean.” I peered over to see him leaning on the doorframe closest to my bed, rubbing his eyes with his one hand and holding his mug in the other.

  “Thanks, I’m getting better. Are you sure you don’t want more sleep?” I felt vulnerable: aside from my sketchbook, my legs were still bare. My face burned wildly as I tried not think too much about why he said the sketch, I mean.

  “I have to talk to you about some stuff. It’s too cold to sleep anyway. Where’s the heat?” he asked.

  “Landlord said he’d fix it, but still hasn't. Something’s wrong with it. I’m sorry.” He responded with a yawn and walked out of my room. I took the opportunity to throw on a pair of gym shorts.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, meeting him on the couch.

  “Tuesday when I left, after Orias, I told the council what I’d found out, and what he had told me. I told them I came across Orias while I was out with a friend.” When he said the word "friend" I was caught off-guard.

  “You didn’t say anything about me?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t want them to know about you yet.” He paused as he averted his gaze. He dove into how they frowned on the fact that he went after a full-fledged demon alone, but after he told them what Orias had divulged, it was light punishment. He told them about how Orias confirmed that Cambions and demonic creatures were gathering for a Rising that would come from underground. That it was a cover for something bigger, having to do with the Devil himself, and that Asmodeus knew the exact details of what was to occur.

  I gaped at him. I guess we had different opinions about punishment, but I considered it bad. He acted as if it were nothing and it made me wonder if he got punished often.

  “The meeting last night was for some big news: our most elite stealth group captured Orias’s boss,” he said. The smile on his face widened, as if he were the one who’d caught the demon himself.

  I knew who Orias’s boss was. They’re the closest things to the Devil himself.

  “Asmodeus? How? He’s a Prince of Hell!” I felt nauseated just thinking about it. Common sense told me that Demon Princes were one of the strongest and oldest creatures, if they were in such proximity to Satan himself. And they just somehow caught one? I didn't seem possible.

  “They set a trap, and he fell for it,” said Micah. “They said he was looking for Orias.”

  Micah was so pleased about it, but was that blinding him, blinding his people of the true danger? A Prince of Hell? How does a Prince, who’s been alive for thousands of years, just happen to get caught?

  “They have him on lockdown in a restricted building on the compound,” Micah continued. “They are weakening him as we speak, but they said it will take a few days before he is weak enough to be interrogated and that's where I disagree.”

  “Your people have probably done this many times,” I said. “Maybe gave them the benefit of the doubt and give it a few days.”

  Micah shook his head. “We need to know as soon as possible, now, tonight.” The ‘we’ he talked about, I feared, only consisted of me and him, not his people. Though I remained hopeful.

  “We can let the professionals handle it. They know what they’re doing,” I said, trailing off. I knew exactly what he wanted, but I wasn't offering, not again.

  “This is a Prince of Evil; he isn’t going to give information to Nephilim. No matter how much we torture him, I guarantee he won’t give anything up.” Micah stood and paced. The sudden agitation emanated off him. “And who knows when The Rising could be? It could be tomorrow, for all we know. We need to know now, and if we had someone he might trust, like a Cambion, it would be like a secret weapon ...” Micah was bright with the possibility, but his look only made me want to vomit.

  “Whoa, whoa, back up.” I stood, spilling my coffee all over my hand as I stepped into his path, forcing him to look at me. “What are you saying?” I asked cautiously.

  “I could buy you ten minutes, you could go in, talk to him, pretend to be his ally, and get out before anyone knew you were there,” said Micah.

  Before anyone knew I was there. He was going to make me do something for him alone again, with a demon who could kill me with his pinky finger. My mind was sounding so many alarm bells it was hard to concentrate.

  “Pretend to be his ally? How the hell am I supposed –”

  “It’s just a little lying, nothing else. He’s also chained up, so he can’t touch you. He won’t be able to hurt you.”

  I stared at him for a long moment and prayed he’d laugh, that he’d say just kidding!, but his face remained the same. Anger and pain twisted into a cyclone of distress as I continued to glare at him. How could he do this? He promised, he said he wouldn’t make me do something like this again.

  “So you want to risk my life, again, for more information that we may not even get?” I demanded. I wanted to hit him, to yell at him, and at the same time I wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible to get away from him.

  “This situation is not the same,” Micah retorted. He explained again how the Prince was secured by chains and wouldn’t be able to harm me. That I wouldn’t have to flirt or be touched in any way. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned, and I scoffed at his arrogance.

  “And the compound? The Nephilim have no idea who I am. If they catch me, if they will smell me, they will kill me. How is this not worse than before?” I asked, proving my point.

  He just shook his head. “I’ve already gone over the specs. The place they’re keeping him is in a secluded area, inconspicuous to the rest of the compound. Light security for the most part. I'll disable the security system. It’ll be easy to access, and it’s just a conversation. No tricks, no special clothes, no drinks, nothing but you and him.” I couldn’t look at Micah without blowing a gasket. “This is our only chance. The Nephilim will get nothing out of him. He’s a Prince; he won’t give up information like that to the enemy.”

  I couldn’t believe it. He was so blinded by his need for information he was ignoring all the warning signs. He didn’t care who he hurt. He was even going against his own people to get the information. And, I might add, using me to do it all the while.

  “Didn’t we just agree that you would never put me in a position like this again?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “Lamia, it’s not the same,” he said, walking past me to the coffee pot. I was beginning to get a headache.

  “I risked my life for information you need. Who knows what Orias would have done to me if he found out I was working with Nephilim – or, actually, that I am also part angel? Now you want to put me in a room with a Prince of Hell? With my limited experience? Have you thought through everything that might go wrong? What if he breaks out? Or your people catch me? Two groups in this scenario want me dead.”

  He stared out the window, leaning against the counter as he drank. He was becoming distant again. I was giving off too much emotion, and he was clamming up. Typical.

  “You don’t have to dress nice,” he said with a smile, joking about my possible demise.

  My shoulders were tight. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling fine, not like you’re risking anything,” I said, defeated.

  In that moment, his expression turned icy, and his lips tightened into a thin line. “If they caught me working with a Cambion, I would lose everything. Exiled. I was gone most of the night making sure people I kne
w were on security watch so it’d be easy to manipulate them, and rounding up demon dogs and the like to have as a distraction. That’s why I didn’t sleep. It’s childish to think you’re the only one risking something,” he said, sneering.

  Working with a Cambion? A Cambion. That is what I am to the world and to him; I had nearly forgotten. The fact that he called me a Cambion, with that tone, like I was some disgusting thing.

  “Then why can’t we just wait for your people to interrogate him?” My voice changed, drastically from before: quieter, laced with obvious hurt.

  “The Nephilim, they are good people. The counsel is what makes everything worse. They care about paperwork and processing. That could take weeks. Hundreds of people’s lives are at stake, and the longer they wait, the more lives at risk.”

  I set down my mug on the TV tray. “I don’t understand why I have to do this. We could just –”

  “Because it’s your job; it’s our job,” he said. His voice rose with the words. “You want to be better? You want to be good? Well, this is it. You stick your neck out for information that can save a world that doesn’t even know you exist, and you do what you need to without thanks.”

  I don’t know why Micah believed his people wouldn’t get the information they needed. I found it hard to believe they hadn’t done this before. How long had the Nephilim been around? They had to have done this before with some success. I understood what he meant, that they were taking too long to process all of this, but maybe that was just as important.