The Rising

by L F Seitz

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head, the guilt for being rude to Laylah earlier worsening in Micah’s presence. I should have dropped it. It wasn’t important. None of this was. I stepped closer, focusing on the other dancers among us. Knowing what I knew and being with Micah only made me depressed.

  “Then why is Laylah the spawn of Satan? Why did you run off and Jimiah suddenly come to our table?” He whispered into my ear, his voice calm and concerned as it warmed my neck.

  This was our first moment together since we got here, and all I wanted was to enjoy it. “All of this has just been stressful. I’m sorry,” I managed to say. “And without you by my side the whole night, everything just felt overwhelming.” I confessed the partial truth, though it did dance around some of the facts leading up to it. If Micah would have picked me up from my apartment and brought me here, if we would have been together the entire time, I didn’t think the evening would have gone this way. I know, though, that Micah isn’t mine to hold onto. He is just my friend. He has people he likes spending time with, a life before I was ever discovered. As much as that fact saddens me, I knew it wasn’t fair to make him feel guilty for it.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I just ...” he trailed off.

  “You were having a good time, Micah.” I pulled away to behold him, I could see guilt all over his features. “Don’t apologize for that. You deserve a carefree night, more than anyone here.” I gave him a reassuring smile, and he smirked back, but there was an uneasiness that lingered on his face.

  “But why don’t you like Laylah?”

  “She gives me bad vibes and does have a vicious glare. Kind of like you,” I said, failing to make light of it. Micah’s face tightened.

  “Laylah can be stiff, but she is a great warrior. I think you’re judging her too harshly,” he said.

  I pulled myself into him and closed my eyes to control the ache. I sank further into the deepest depths of darkness, replaying the tone in his voice once more. “You still have feelings for her,” I whispered to him.

  “She is my friend.” His voice was harsh, defensive.

  “Friend.” The defeat in my voice was apparent. I chastised myself for sounding like a wounded animal.

  “And how was your dance with Hamon?” He nearly spat Hamon’s name. I pulled away to study him.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I demanded. He scorched with anger. “Are you jealous?”

  “No.” He snorted, like it was some outlandish thing that could never be. My face fell, and I couldn’t bring myself to say another word. I could nearly hear my heart breaking.

  “Oh? Hamon not your type?” He quipped.

  He’s not you. I glanced at him once more, his smirk falling as he noticed my still face. Surely he could see I was bothered. I was frustrated with what this night had come to. “I don’t want to talk about Hamon,” I said. “Or Laylah.”

  “Then what is there?”

  I pulled him into me again, resting my chin on my arm as I tried to pretend that everything wasn’t going to crap because of me and my sassy mouth. “You look amazing tonight,” I said, my voice hushed as I breathed against his neck. “I’m sorry I made you angry. It wasn’t my intention. If you’d like, I can leave.”

  Micah was the one that pulled back this time, his brow furrowed. “Why would I want you to leave?” His eyes softened as they toured my face, like it was the first time he was seeing me tonight. “I’m sorry if it seems I’ve forgotten about you tonight,” he finally said. “Truth is, I’ve been going around, making conversation to other Nephilim about you.”

  My breath hitched at the new information. “Why?”

  “To tell them about how great you are, how much you belong here.” He smirked smugly as he glanced around the room. We were one of five couples out here on the dance floor. “I explained to them how we got the information we did, as much as I could without getting in trouble. It’ll make for better character statements when the Divine Counsel asks for them.”

  I laughed softly, and Micah followed suit, his bright smile making the muscles in my legs quiver. The walls, the ones I built so high around me, crumbled again as he beheld me.

  “You’re the best, Micah. I’m sorry if I ever doubted you.” I pulled him in again as I embraced him tightly, hugging him with everything I could muster. Micah’s hands tightened around me, and I felt content.

  We relaxed, and I rested my forehead on the side of Micah’s chin. We said nothing as we swayed to the music, and I took in every part of this moment to lock away in my memories. Micah’s sweet vanilla fragrance caressing me, his arms encasing me, and the sound of his steady breathing. The music carried us off to a place that was all our own. Micah’s lips brushed my ear.

  “You look beautiful, Lamia.”

  Micah was my everything and didn’t even know it. My Micah.

  ✽✽✽

  We slowly let go as the song ended, both smirking at one another as we made it back to the table. Laylah wasn’t there, thankfully. Leo sat playing a game on his phone, and Hamon stood facing us as we approached. Micah moved around the table, his eyes glazed over as if lost in thought as he took his seat.

  “Can I talk to you for a moment?” Hamon asked me. “It’s about some gear for tomorrow, if they approve you to accompany us.”

  “Make it quick.” I followed him through a door a little ways from out table and down a short hallway that lead to the jacket closet, before grabbing his jacket sleeve to stop him. “What is it?”

  “I know you didn’t want me to say anything, but as her team leader, I can’t condone this anymore.” Hamon’s face was slightly damp as he pushed his hand through his once-styled hair, now just a mess of loose curls. “Just listening to her comments as you two danced, I advised her to leave before I took action.”

  I glared at him. I had just smoothed things over with Micah, and now he was kicking up dust. I wish I could glue his mouth shut. “This isn’t your issue.” I turned away from him and down the hall. The fire caged in within my ribs was harder to contain tonight than usual. It was all the stress of the coming fight – which I still may or may not be a part of.

  “Lamia, I know you’re worried about Micah, but this is bigger than that. This is assault.” His voice was curt as he explained to me what I already knew. I was there.

  “It is bigger than that,” I said. “This is about being a team, about keeping the Nephilim together as a unit. If word gets out, it will divide –”

  “You aren’t worried about that,” he interrupted. “You’re worried about Micah.”

  My anger erupted as I clenched my teeth so hard I thought they’d break. The act started a headache in the back of my head. Pounding like a little drum. The annoyance only made things worse. “I don’t want to discuss this again,” I sneered. I moved past him but he caught my arm.

  “No, we will continue to discuss this until you realize how inappropriate you’re handling it. I only let you leave that night because I thought this was going to be resolved, but you’re letting it fester.”

  I scoffed. “You’re an asshole!” I blurted out, turning away. He pulled me back again, and I yanked my arm from his grip as he stepped in front of me. His hands held up in surrender.

  “Lamia, listen. I will not charge her with anything, as long as you tell Micah. If you don’t, I will do both.” He was threatening me now. I laughed in disbelief at the ultimatum.

  “You wouldn’t,” I said.

  “I am a team leader, Lamia. You must understand that I do have to lead.”

  It grew quiet between us as I had to reel my fire back in. Punching him in the throat would be frowned upon, though he was provoking me, putting me between a rock and a hard place. It wasn’t his call to make, and yet he was forcing my hand.

  “I’ll tell him, but after The Rising,” I said through my teeth.

  “Fine.” He watched me like he wasn’t sure if I was lying.

  “Fine,” I nearly yelled. I shoved past him and made my wa
y back toward the main Banquet room. I turned the corner and was surprised by Micah, standing alone against the wall, staring right at me. How long had he been there? I felt Hamon bump into me from behind as he stopped suddenly as well.

  “Lamia, can I talk to you? Privately?” Micah asked, pushing past Hamon. I didn’t have much of a choice as Micah snatched my wrist and forced me to follow him. We stopped right where Hamon and I had been standing moments ago. His face expressed nothing as he watched me, waiting for me to start explaining everything. Too bad I wasn’t planning on it.

  “Tell me,” he demanded.

  I mimicked his stance, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. “Tell you what?” I asked.

  “Lamia,” he growled.

  “I don’t understand what you are asking me to tell.”

  He clenched his jaw. “I'm not playing games.”

  “Neither am I.” I remained aloof as he grew angrier. This was the tipping point, and if I could control what he knew, I could still keep this situation at bay. I could still save Micah from this pain.

  “I heard the word assault,” he said.

  “We were talking about ... food.”

  “Damn it, Lamia,” he grunted, his voice growing louder as he began to pace.

  “This is happening now,” Hamon walked up and said. “Just tell him about the assault.”

  “We already agreed, Hamon –”

  “He knows about you being attacked?” Micah interrupted, pointing at Hamon. “You trust him but not me?”

  “No, I was there,” Hamon said.

  “Someone better start talking,” Micah said. His neck produced red blotches a his rage grew. His hands turned into fists, his knuckles white. “You know who it is?” He asked Hamon, his voice quiet as he stepped closer to his old friend. I was losing control of the situation.

  “This is my issue, no one else’s,” I snapped. Micah held his hand up to silence me.

  Hamon began explaining, and I grew hot again. “The night of the meet and greet, Leo and I came back from grabbing food to find Lamia alone. The three of us were standing and talking about you when Laylah showed up, saying you were asking for Lamia.” The throbbing in the back of my head grew more intense. “The way Lamia looked back at me made alarms go off in my head, so I followed them.”

  “I’m leaving,” I said as I tried to walk past them. Micah’s arm flew out to block me.

  “You stay right there or so help me I will throw you over my shoulder.” he seethed. I backed away and leaned against the wall again.

  I felt trapped, forced to relive a memory I so badly wanted to forget. What was worse, I was forced to relive it with the attacker’s ex-boyfriend, friend, and teammate. This was only going to end in broken hearts and shattered relationships, and it was all going to be my fault. Like how I killed Jennifer’s husband in that fire when I was thirteen. Like how I ruined the relationship between Gramma Beth and Dorothy, my last foster mother, when I was sixteen, because Beth wanted to put me in her will and Dorothy refused to sign off on it as power of attorney. I ruined every relationship I touched. Maybe that’s why I would always be alone.

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, thinking of anything else as Hamon explained. I didn’t want to see Micah’s face when he found out who had attacked me. I didn’t want to see him in pain, the pain I’d tried to prevent.

  “I lost them in the crowd at first but asked around and went into the south wing, the one under construction,” Hamon said. He explained how he’d heard our tussle before finding us: Laylah with her knife in hand and me with my beaten face and dislocated jaw. He described confronting Laylah, who called me a danger to everyone, and how I’d refused to be healed or have Laylah reported. “She feared it would hurt you too much to know someone you trusted betrayed you. Though I’m not as close as you and Lamia, believe me, brother, seeing it with my own eyes, I felt betrayed. I am sorry.”

  The quiet was suffocating. Oh, Micah. I’m so sorry. I opened my eyes but refused to look anywhere but the tulle of my red dress. I could sense his pain as if it were my own. I crossed my arms, curling into myself as I thought about how distraught he felt.

  Middle school was when I was first exposed to the ridicule of other kids, and what was expected of people, of society, as normal. Being awkward, overweight, and a foster kid wasn’t normal. Kids didn’t understand, so they called it out. They harassed me because they didn’t know any better, because it would take too much vulnerability to open up to a stranger and try to understand. Laylah was like any middle school kid, only knowing what she was raised to understand, comfortable in her set ways, and too close-minded to see unfamiliar people as anything other than blasphemy, fear of the unknown.

  “Don’t report her. She just hates what she doesn’t understand,” I said softly. “She’s no better than anyone else here. It’s what anyone else would have done to me, given the opportunity. Don’t condemn her. I want to be better than that.” The self-consciousness of who I am came crawling into the front of my mind again. How could I tell others not to fear what I am when I don’t even know what I am? I don’t know what I’m capable of or what evil might be lurking inside me. Telling people I am Nephilim felt like a lie. It was something I wanted to be, but, deep down, I knew I wasn’t. Tears wet my cheeks as I tried to swallow them back. I never wanted this. The pain, the drama, to hurt Micah. I wished to belong, but at what cost?

  “Lamia,” Micah whispered. I saw his dress shoes standing before me as I continued to avert my gaze. The distant chatter fell away from us as we stood like this. I wanted to be alone as I tried to compose myself. He touched my face, his finger wiping the tears from my cheeks.

  I felt so terrible. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” I mumbled.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  His face was twisted, carrying so many emotions; he didn’t seem to know which to feel. Anger was the most prominent one, but pain lingered beneath it. His face was inches from mine as he wiped the tears with his thumb once more, his palm against my face. He regarded me as worry and regret filled his features. “I’m sorry someone I trusted hurt you. I’m sorry for all of this. It will never happen again.” Raw pain filled his face, and I couldn’t control the tears as they came, blurring my vision. Micah leaned in and lightly kissed my forehead. He then left Hamon and me, moving quickly down the hall and disappearing around the corner.

  Hamon and I stood silently as everything that had just happened soaked in: from Hamon’s recollection of the story to Micah’s anger and then my tears. The grand finale was that tenderness as Micah kissed my forehead.

  It would never happen again.

  Horror filled my face as I turned to Hamon then into the crowd behind us at the end of the hallway. “We need to find him,” I said. “He’s going to find her.”

  Hamon, too, understood what might happen if he did, and we moved quickly to find Micah before he found Laylah. I didn’t know exactly what he might do to her, but when Micah was that calm, anything was possible.

  “Let’s split up,” Hamon said. He went left at the end of the hall, so I went right.

  “Did you see where Micah Anderson went?” I asked a stranger passing me, hoping they would know who Micah was. The man pointed out the door to the hall.

  “He was with Laylah Vitali,” he said.

  I took off in a panic. I pushed through the door and scanned the intersection of halls, seeing no one. A door slammed shut a few doors away, followed by muted yelling. I was terrified. I tiptoed down and peeked through the window and saw them there arguing: Micah was the one yelling and pointing at Laylah, who was standing with her hands on her hips near the wall. The door was too thick for me to hear what he might be saying, but he was furious. As I regarded Laylah again, her eyes had found me. She looked back at Micah, then at me again.

  He suddenly got in her face, his finger poking her in the shoulder as his face grew redder with rage. She yelled something back, and Micah stiffened. Then she gripped him by the lapels
and kissed him. Shock hit me so hard my fingers and toes tingled. My mind went blank as I gawked at the sight. The air felt thicker with every breath, waiting for that moment when he’d shove her away. She wanted me to see this. I watched for another moment until Micah’s lips moved with hers, and then I dropped to the floor. I couldn’t watch them anymore. I needed air. This was too much. I made my way back out and toward the entrance where Leo and I had once come in. Hamon approached me, and I shooed him away as I walked.

  “Don’t worry, I found them,” I said, my voice deadpan.

  “Did he hurt her?” He was out of breath from running around searching for Micah.

  “Yeah, they were attacking each other – with their mouths.” I felt nauseated even saying the words.

  Shock filled his features. “You’re lying.”

  “Go through those doors, down the hallway to the right. I’ll wait here.” I crossed my arms, and he took off.

  Screw this. I’m going home.

  Maybe it was the alcohol, the lack of food, the air, or everything. I wanted to leave. I wanted this dress off, and I wanted to sleep. My head was pounding something terrible, and I was sick of this celebrating. I just wanted to fight, to kill something. I would fight tomorrow no matter what the Council said.

  “No one is supposed to leave alone,” one of the guards called to me as I rushed out into the parking lot.

  “I’m just making a call and charging my phone in the car,” I said. Lying was becoming easier for me. I pulled out my phone and held it up as I weaved between the vehicles parked for the Banquet. Once across the large parking area I made my way through the pine trees, my dress tore as it caught on the low branches. I felt lighter the farther I was from the hall. I put my phone back in my pocket. Once I passed the two large apartment buildings on my left, I’d basically be at the main gate. I’d figure out how to get past the guards when I got there.