The Rising

by L F Seitz

  “Stay close to me,” Micah whispered.

  Leo and Laylah stood guard at the top of the stairs as their partners went down to check the rows of seats for anything suspicious. My eyes wandered across the field and noticed others, little specks of people, all doing the same thing in seating across the stadium. Hamon said all communications weren’t working, but I guess it didn’t matter: everyone knew the plan, knew what they were supposed to do. It was amazing to witness the choreography. When I focused on the task at hand I noted Micah, Hamon, and Zachriel close to the bottom of the steps, with Leo and Laylah about to move to meet them.

  That’s when I felt it. There was vibration in my bones I couldn’t ignore and a pungent smell that was all too familiar: sulfur. I saw Leo and Laylah as they made their way to their partner, keeping to the plan like they’d noticed nothing. I scanned the area behind me for a change in the darkness as the vibrations grew stronger. Whatever it was made my ears hum, and my nose burned with the scent.

  “Lamia,” Micah snapped at me from the bottom of the stairs, but I didn’t falter.

  “Something’s coming,” I said aloud. I knew my gut wasn’t lying. The movement I could see the team making in my peripherals stopped. They were listening.

  A clicking of what sounded like nails against the concrete came from my right. I turned just as a creature-like werehuman leapt right at me. React, Lamia. It hit me like a Mack truck, sending both of us flying through the air. Everything in me slowed as I became airborne – the ringing in my ears even ceased. Its face resembled a man’s but was abnormally sunken in, emphasizing every crevasse its skull possessed, and its skin was like a thin, clear membrane, all the deteriorating muscles revealed underneath. Though its eyes were white, I knew it could see me as its claws reached for me. It was a demon.

  Micah screamed my name, and Hamon yelled as the creature and I hit the ground hard, skidding across the concrete. I struggled under its immense body, knowing its claws would dig in at any moment. But it wasn’t moving, and my knife was in its chest. I’d killed it. I threw it off me, yanking my knife from his ribcage in the process.

  Leo offered his hand to help me up as he scouted the area around us. I stood, ready to be hit again, but nothing was there.

  “They’re coming,” my voice trembled.

  “Get down to Micah,” Leo said. He was already jumping a few of the stairs to Hamon, Zachriel, and Laylah. I found Micah then, his eyes were wide as he yelled to me. Hamon was also screaming something to me that I couldn’t hear, but the rush of my blood through my head created a ringing so loud I couldn’t hear anything above it.

  That’s when I knew I was too late. I turned to see more distorted creatures, bearing their claws and fangs, coming from the stairs leading to the lower levels. They were coming right at me. Their claws dug into the cement as they ran on all fours toward me, a sight right out of a horror movie. Reality slowed as Micah mouthed the words come to me, but I knew there was no time. Out of everything Micah taught me, one thing stuck out at this moment:

  Never turn your back on your enemy.

  I took my stance just as a creature reached for me, screeching its battle cry. I ducked around and struck it from behind, stabbing the thing in the thorax between its ribs. Before I could look away, another blindsided me into the ground. I managed to turn enough to stab it in the neck as it grasped for my throat. I twisted the knife in as his claws ripped my jacket and penetrated the skin on my shoulder. There was a gap as the rest of the creatures spread out, I took my chance and made a run for it.

  “Micah,” I called, seeing no one human as I jumped up and ran toward the stairs.

  My legs were swept from beneath me. Someone began to drag me as I tried to flip myself, unable to get my bearings. I reached back and swung as hard as I could, hitting something important, forcing them to let go as I scrambled away. I jumped up and made a run for the stairs again. I was so out of breath as I hid behind a pillar, searching for Micah in the chaos of Underworld creatures.

  I spotted Laylah on top of the Brewers dugout. I squinted and counted the figures I could see. Charlie 12 was all there, surrounded by demons. I’d never seen demons before. They were basically carcasses held together by Saran wrap. Fangs hung from their black gums, and claws were attached to their limbs.

  I waited for my moment to b line it to them, but there was no break in the outpouring of creatures as they came up from where we’d been, from the escalators and elevator shafts. Too many of them. I marked the dugout mentally, took a breath, and ran. A few steps down, something snagged me from behind. Without thinking, I shoved my blade over my shoulder, and the metal bit into flesh. I bent forward and whipped the creature over my head and into the seats. Blood got into my eyes, and I cried out. It burned like acid.

  My ankles were yanked out again, and I smacked my head on the cement steps. Stars burst across my vision as pain throbbed across my brow. I made a last-ditch effort and wrapped my arm around one of the railing posts as I worked to blink away my blurred vision. I should be dead, their claws should have ripped me to shreds, but for some reason I was still here.

  “Come with us, child,” a distorted woman wailed. I peered behind me to find the top half of a woman's head caved in, and from it a wound of black, necrotic skin spread across her face, making her smell of decayed flesh. I let go, sliding across the floor as I yanked the small sword from my back holster and sliced with all the muscle I could muster. Her head flew off, and fear punched me in the gut as I let out a whimper. If I am alone any longer I may be dragged away and feasted on in the shadows. I took my chance to crawl to the steps again.

  “Micah!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t do this alone much longer. Where was my team? I didn’t know where the creatures wanted to take me, but being their captive scared me more than being killed.

  I could see Micah turn and scan the seats, and then he locked eyes on me. He lept off the dugout, slashing two skulls with double knives as he ran. His brown heavy over his eyes, his hair still bright in the darkness. He truly looked like a warrior of God, or rather, Heaven's Reaper. He made it to the steps but was cut off by another demon werehuman. He used the wall for leverage to jump and get high enough to bury his blades in its skull before it could get its claws into him. Micah’s gaze found mine, a scorching rage that fizzled once he saw me.

  Steps from me, his face went slack, and then I was hit from behind. My vision blurred as I watched Micah reach for me, but I was yanked away before he could touch me.

  Darkness, my old friend, will you finally take me?

  ✽✽✽

  I woke up freezing. My head ached as I reflexively reached for my blades, but they were gone. The room I was in was pitch-black and damp as I slowly stood, waving my arms before me to make sure I didn’t run into anything.

  “Surprise,” a familiar voice echoed. “This is so exciting.”

  I trembled. I knew where I’d heard that voice before: my nightmare of the man with jagged teeth and black eyes. I swung my fist into the space in front of me, defenseless in the dark as I stood shaking like a newborn calf. The lights suddenly flickered on, temporarily blinding me. “Where am I?” I demanded, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. The room was large, but crowded with large pipes, made of all concrete, with a single doorway across from me. Pipes stretched behind me, and overhead, some larger than the width of my shoulders. I hope I’m still in the park.

  “Oh, don’t be upset,” said the man. “People are supposed to love surprise parties.”

  The floor across from me flickered with purple flames, and from them came a man: a tall, handsome man with deep blue eyes. ​

  “You can call me father, though it does make me want to gag.” He smiled sinisterly, white teeth gleaming. “But I prefer daddy.”

  My blood ran cold as I stared at him, the fire in me faltering as I registered what he was saying. The purple flame, and the blue eyes. It couldn’t be true. I refused to believe it. “I know who you are, but
– but you aren’t – that’s impossible,” I stuttered as I regarded him before realizing he had blocked the doorway with his body. There was no way I was going to be able to get around him. “Lucifer doesn’t have a daughter.” The words nearly stuck to my throat.

  He grinned, he seemed to find this all so amusing. “Let me ask you this, though,” he said, holding up a finger. “You aren’t my spawn, as you say, though you can do everything I can? Of course, at a price. I’m sure you’ve been feeling the symptoms: exhausted, weak, lots of headaches.” His surveyed me thoroughly before meeting my gaze again.

  “How is this possible?” I clenched my jaw, trying to use severity to cover the blatant horror I felt and no doubt portrayed.

  “You are the spawn of a Nephilim woman and a fallen archangel: me, of course. Sweet Lamia, your human body holds within it all the powers of both Halfling species, demon and angel. All of it creates that purple light. Our strengths are different, but it’s something we share. That power is a beacon to me. I can find you no matter where you are.” He smiled, taunting me. “Using both demonic and angel parts of your blood – given to you by me, of course – takes significant power. Every time you do use that pretty purple light, it eats up a part of your soul. You use it as fuel whenever in that state of supreme power. How much is used depends on what you do.”

  “Good to know,” I said through gritted teeth, unsure if I wanted to scream or vomit.

  “Except with Micah. You actually gave him half of your entire soul to bring him back to life. The times before that were mere party tricks; none of your soul was significantly lost, unfortunately.” He paused, sighing heavily. “Saving the boy wonder was romantic, but it cost you big. You don’t have much of your delicate little soul left. Which is good, because I have plans, and I need you to come willingly for them to work.”

  “If we have the same kind of power, then how is it possible you’re not dead from using it over thousands of years? How do you even have a soul?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t have a soul,” he said playfully. “I don’t need it to access my powers like you do. I get my power through an alternate dimension. I’d be too much for your mind to comprehend.”

  His words began to take root, the urgency I felt faltering. “I’m dying?” My hands hovered over my stomach, like I could feel my soul within in me tremor at the sound of his voice.

  “No, being supernatural, you can live without a soul, but you won’t be this anymore,” he gestured to my body. “Your human aspects will be gone. Morality. Ethics. There will be a void within you, and the darkness of the universe will fill that negative space. You will be more like me – more like yourself, really. Your true self, as you were meant to be.”

  Fury mixed with fearful confusion made it hard to think. How is this even possible? It was a question I’d been asking myself since I met Micah.

  Micah. The battle.

  “The point of this, The Rising: was to taunt me?” I asked bewildered by the concept.

  “To find you, really. I knew about where you were, where I’d left you. I knew if I threw a party, invited all my friends to this area to commemorate your 19th birthday, that the Nephilim would rise to the task. They’d scour the streets in search for Cambions, and I knew someone was bound to find you. Once they did, you’d be caught up in the current and forced to show who you really are – that magical light.” He chuckled as he glanced around, holding his arms up. “I heard that you’d grown close to the Nephilim and wanted to share this with everyone. Well, and a reason for you to use up more of that precious soul of yours like cheap gas. The faster you lose it, the better.”

  My face went slack as I gawked at him.

  “I’m not really one for crowds, though, so I asked my friends to bring you here so we could have our own little reunion.” His laugh was lower as he leered at me. “It’s also a taste of what is to come when you finally lose your soul and come to my side, what we will achieve once we are one.”

  I shook off the gut-wrenching horror as I clenched my trembling hands. My body fought for which emotion was to be shown on my features: panic or outrage. He spoke of plans for me, meaning he wasn't going to kill me, at least not now.

  “Call it off. I got your point. You told me what you wanted,” my voice echoed as the rage in me rose. “Take your creatures to hell and leave the Nephilim alive.”

  “Oh, well, I invited them all to the party. I can’t cancel it now while it’s in full swing.” He shook his head as he began to tug on black leather gloves. “Though I could convince them, if you agreed to use what’s left of your soul now and come with me willingly.”

  “Never.”

  “Well, I can’t force you to give yourself to me, you have to agree to it. I feel that kidnapping you and holding you in a cell will only make you fight harder against giving in. Once you see your presence destroying everything, I have no doubt you will beg for me to come get you. I’m a patient man, but I will be helping the process along. Sending you little gifts here and there. It would be long before you're looking for me.”

  The taste of bile was apparent in the back of my throat.

  “You’re vile.”

  “Think of your violet abilities like a candle. The power is the flame, and your soul is the wax. Whenever you use it, like saving your insignificant friends, the wax is burned away, and when it’s gone you can’t get it back.” He winked at me before adjusting his black tailored jacket. “So don’t get too comfortable in this life, Lamia. It just makes it harder when the warm flesh is ripped from your fingers.”

  The purple flames flashed around him, and in a blink, he was gone. Where he once stood were my weapons waiting for me.

  Thirty.

  I PUSHED MYSELF HARD, sprinting as I tried to find the way out. I was deep in the bowels of the stadium: every small, concrete hallway of the basement looking the same as the next. Pipes and wires ran overhead, as noises of hissing and clacking echoed within the quietness. Where are all the creatures? I turned a corner as I sucked in stale air and saw the word Stadium pointing left at the end of the hall. I raced, sliding around the corner, and found two demon dogs coming my way. They were smaller, compact creatures with leathery skin and long limbs, making them extremely fast. Their most dangerous feature was their teeth: rows and rows of jagged canines. My fear disappeared as I took off toward them. there wasn't time for fear, I needed to find Charlie 12. My blood sang with the challenge. Once I was close enough, I jumped, barely reaching the pipe above my head and kicking the closest creature in the face. The other snapped its jaws at me as I pulled my sword from its sheath on my back and stuck it through its jaw. The sword was stuck in the bone as the first demon came back, biting me in the side and clamping down with all its strength. I cried out as I pulled my knife out of one creature and twisted it into the other’s eye, scrambling its brain. The pain was nearly crippling, but I managed to pull off my jacket and tie it around my waist under my vest, to slow the bleeding.

  I sheathed my sword as I ran through the tunnel, following the screams and screeches. I knew it would be chaos when I emerged, and I didn’t have a clue as to how long I’d been knocked out in that basement room. Charlie 12 could be anywhere right now, but the dugout was the first place I was going to look. I just hope they’re still alive. My side throbbed, blood soaking through the fabric, but I didn’t have time or strength to heal myself. I needed to find someone to help me.

  I ran up the stairs and through an open door that led to a foyer like the one we’d originally stepped into from outside. I was now on the first floor, and it seemed there wasn’t a corner left untouched. A massacre of bodies splayed out everywhere. My stomach clenched and salvia pooled beneath my tongue. I clenched my teeth as the taste of bile resurfaced in the back of my throat. I couldn't contain it as I heaved, only clear fluids emptied from my stomach.

  A Nephilim ran past the door with a Cambion on its back. A few steps later, the man collapsed with the creature on his back and stayed there. Cambions
almost looked like humans, but usually had some kind of deformity or characteristic that was in relation to their demonic ancestors: fangs, protruding bones, or membrane-like skin were the ones I remembered from when Micah and I were attacked on the road. They all had maroon markings, though. I wiped the saliva on my chin with the back of my hand. The Cambion that killed the man a few feet away was already glowing as I pulled out my sword. The halfling’s head snapped around as I spun my sword, waiting for him to pounce. His foaming mouth unhinged as he yelled out toward me. He aimed low, and I swung my blade down as though in a game of croquet, the blade splitting his face on the upswing. My skin glowed blue as blood splattered across my face, and I wore it like armor. The others were being dispatched by nearby Nephilim, so I wasted no time heading to the escalators, to the second floor where I’d last seen Micah.

  As I moved through the concessions area, red- and blue-marked people fought one another in every direction I looked, but none were my team. None of them I recognized. I began running and slipping between people as I tried to get back to where I had last seen them.

  “Beg for mercy,” a demon with half a head growled. It had a woman’s arm twisted up and its claws dug into her throat. The Nephilim fell to her knees as he bled her out. I slid to a halt, tripping as I lifted my sword. He was completely distracted as I shoved my sword into his ribs from behind, ploughing it through to the other side.

  “You first,” I grunted, twisting the blade as he twitched and fell back. Electricity ran through me with power and I couldn't decipher if it was the adrenaline, or the magic of my angelic blood. Staggering, I yanked it from his chest cavity and managed to grab the woman before she hit the ground.

  “Hey, hey,” I said. I shoved my blade into its sheath as she looked up at me.

  “Save your strength for your own wounds,” she said, gagging. Before she could say any more, I held my hand over her neck and let my purple light glow. After a moment, her wound was gone, and I was in a worse state for it.