Alien Prince’s Son

by Anna Lewis

  “You can’t blame yourself,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. He looked around. “Is your friend still here?” I shook my head. I had felt Meroe’s spirit leave. He knelt down in front of me. I looked up and found myself looking into his bright green eyes. My heart began to pound, and I felt warm within my core. It was like he looked straight into me, then said gently, “You didn’t know that he was evil.”

  “But I should have,” I began. I sat up all of the way. We were face-to-face. So close. His scent filled my nostrils. I paused, almost not breathing. He gave me a small smile and shook his head slightly.

  “No,” he replied. “He hid that side of himself from you.” He stood. “Demons are known for being particularly good at that. Typically, they hide in the guise of children as most people are willing to let their guard down in front of a helpless child. Others take the form of beautiful women, well…because men are very much willing to open themselves up in that situation.” I laughed. “And I am guessing that your demon made himself look very attractive to you.”

  I nodded, looking away from him.

  “Umhmmm,” he said. I glanced back at him. He was studying me and stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Not many people have the ability to fight a demon. They can get inside of your brain and figure out what your defenses are least likely to withstand.”

  “What do I do?” I asked. He grinned.

  “Well, I know the answer to your riddle, so there’s a start.”

  “You do?”

  “Yep,” he stated simply as if it were nothing. “I have, in fact, heard it before.” I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

  “Well?”

  “What is given and what is taken.

  There at your first breath,

  Neither asked, only given,

  but follows unto Death.” He paused for emphasis. “It’s his name.”

  “It’s L—” I began, but he held up a hand to stop me.

  “Not the one that he calls himself,” he explained. “That would be too easy. No, it’s his true name that we have to find.” He glanced around at the shelves, stuffed with books. “It’s here. Somewhere.” I sank back into my chair. The room was easily the size of my own apartment. This search would take time. Time that I may or may not have, I thought to myself wearily. I stood.

  “Well,” I said. “I guess I’d better get started.” He looked at me. I looked back, seeing something in those eyes...

  “You’re not alone in this,” he said. That could have killed me. I felt a rush of adrenaline, my heart began to pound in my chest. I had never wanted something to be more true.

  “’Sup, kids?” a deep male voice boomed. I turned. A tall, well-built man stood in the doorway. His face was clean-shaven, and he had dark brown, close-cropped hair. He was muscular, and dressed in a tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He was barefoot. He had a broad smile on his face—his teeth were perfect, canines elongated. The other dragon, I thought to myself.

  “Aiden!” Ben said brightly. “Did you get it?”

  “Nah, man. I’m close, though,” he replied, holding up a finger. He grinned at me, holding his hand out and walking forward. He oozed masculine confidence. It was sexy. “Hey pretty lady!”

  “Hi,” I replied, shaking his hand.

  “Did Ben find you?” he asked, winking at me with a smile. “Did he promise you lots of books?”

  “She found me, actually.”

  “Oh really?” Aiden was immediately interested.

  “He promised me lots of books on demons,” I replied archly. Aiden’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He recovered quickly, however, and his flirtatious tone returned.

  “Do you like the dark side?”

  “Apparently, I’ve been dating it,” I said, keeping my poise. I found both of them attractive. But I was not in the mood to go getting into anything at that moment. Aiden looked at me, arching his eyebrow.

  “Is that so?” he asked lightly. I nodded, looking away. My skin was probably blotchy and definitely tear-stained.

  “Samara’s been through a lot, dude,” Ben remarked, coming to my aid. “Her boyfriend is a demon-shifter, and he wants to use her necromancy powers to raise an army of the dead and take over the world.”

  “That’s all?”

  “In a nutshell,” I remarked coolly. I stood, walking toward the bookshelves. As they talked in low voices, I ran a finger over the leather spines of the books. I saw that this was the shelf where Ben kept his grimoires, bloated from use and liquid damage. I placed my finger on one, my skin tingling. The leather was smoother in grain, and yellower than the others. Human skin, I thought.

  “Samara,” Aiden said, speaking up from their almost whispered discussion.

  “Yes?” I asked, glancing over at them.

  “Would you care to have some dinner with us?” he asked formally. I squinted at him, trying to decide whether he was joking with me or not. He seemed serious. I nodded.

  “Yes please,” I said. Aiden sketched a low bow.

  “You honor us with your presence, Necromancer.”

  “And you, I, Dragon.”

  “Ah, my friend,” Aiden said to Ben. “She guesses our true nature.”

  “Dora told her.”

  “Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

  Dinner with two dragons was, decidedly, less bloody than I would have originally expected. We sat eating a spaghetti bolognese with large glasses of fine red wine at the table in their red-tiled kitchen. The two dragons cooked, joking around the entire time. Trying to cheer me up, I realized. We sat at their massive wooden kitchen table, which had two equally massive benches pulled up beside it.

  “So, what do you do, Aiden?” I asked, taking a sip of the wine.

  “I’m a treasure hunter,” he said matter-of-factly. “I collect things for my dragon hoard.”

  “No, really,” I said.

  “It’s true,” Ben said. “He keeps it in the shed out back.”

  I raised my eyebrow. When Ben had taken me on a tour of his greenhouse, I'd seen the rather non-descript white-painted wooden shed out in the back.

  “You keep it in that rickety old thing?” I asked doubtfully.

  “That rickety old thing has a state-of-the-art security system,” Aiden replied. “Anyway, who would look for millions of dollars’ worth of knickknacks and such in a shed?”

  “The treasure room is beneath the shed,” Ben clarified for me. He was leaned back in his chair, his wine glass held aloft.

  “Ah,” I replied. “So, you were searching for another thing to bury beneath your shed?”

  “Currently,” Aiden said, swirling his wine expansively, “I am searching for the Mayan Hanging Lady.”

  “And what is that?”

  “A ritual statue,” Aiden replied. “Used during important sacrifices. From my research, it appears that the Mayans believed it to be a weapon of some kind, gifted to them by the goddess Ixtab.”

  “Why do you want it?” I asked. I knew of Ixtab, as any Necromancer would—she was the Mayan patron of those who had died by hanging. She would collect their souls and bring them safely to paradise. The Mayans believed that hanging was a brave way to go, evidently.

  “He likes the ladies,” Ben raised his eyebrows in jest. Aiden socked him in the shoulder. “Ow.”

  “You get what you deserve,” said Aiden, looking at me. “I want it because it is supposedly made of solid gold and encrusted with emeralds. It will look lovely on the mantel—don’t you think, Benny? Just beside the cursed sword that I found in Aruba. Alas, the Hanging Lady has never been discovered.”

  “How do you know about it then?” I asked.

  “It is mentioned in the Dresden Codex,” he replied.

  “Ah, I see.” I paused, tilting my head to the side as I studied his well-sculpted face. He was the typical All-American type. “What will you do with it?” He grinned at me mischievously.

  “Keep it!” I laughed with them.

  “No, really.�
�

  “Really.”

  “Is that all that dragons do?” I asked, realizing that I was getting pulled in to Aiden’s flirtation. I felt like a fly trapped in a web. I liked Ben, too. I got the feeling, from the way that Ben was smiling at me, he felt the same.

  “Is that all that dragons do?” Aiden cried. “Of course!” But I got the feeling, from the way that Aiden’s eyes were traveling smoothly over contours my fitted black t-shirt, that he was very interested. I smiled and glanced down at my wine. I felt conflicted. I won’t come between two friends, I thought. It would, eventually, come to the point where I’d have to choose one or the other, I realized. I’d have to choose neither, or lose them both. I needed them as allies too much.

  ***

  AURORA:

  Samara’s coven had all gone to ground. All but one, at least. Morton Bingle, proprietor of one of the city’s most run-down herb supply shops. I waited across the street from Bingle’s shop. The building had once been a fancy brownstone, but it had fallen in to disrepair. The shutters were painted a Prussian blue color, and they were tilted at odd angles. The windows were dirty, and the paint on the front door was peeling. The cement steps leading up to the entrance had large cracks in them. Ivy covered most of the building, slowly creeping its way into the structure, adding more cracks to the exterior. Even from the alley across the street, it reeked of magic.

  The one good thing about being a demon is that you don’t need to obtain magic. You just have it already. The sharp scent made me feel nauseous. In the street, a young mother walked by, pushing her child in a stroller. I sniffed deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of the child’s flesh. I ran my tongue hungrily over my sharp front teeth. I closed my eyes as my stomach growled insistently, and I hissed in frustration. If I abandoned my post, I would miss my opportunity to take another who could lead me to Samara. The high demon was losing patience. I needed him happy. I needed him to take his rightful place, ruling the masses so that I could feast on fresh flesh.

  I remained in the shadows of the alley, watching people pass by. Eventually, the crowds began to thin. The sun sank beneath the far buildings, which scraped the graying sky like broken teeth. The lights in the shop went out. It was time to capture my prey. I waited for him to exit the shop.

  The door opened, and a thin bent figure came through it. Bingle was wizened, with leathery skin and long, graying dreadlocks. He wore a trench coat to protect him from the elements. I let myself disappear, reappearing across the street—to find myself blocked. Hissing, I beat my fists against the barrier. The barrier felt cold, soft. I had the sensation of hands grasping me. And then it was gone. The small witch man was gone and the street was entirely empty, except for me.

  What was that? I wondered. It some force that I had never before in my eight hundred years encountered. I stood in the empty street, looking about me. I had the strange feeling of being watched. I hated it. Growling in frustration, I disappeared.

  ***

  SAMARA:

  Ben and I were working companionably in the library, reading through the books that contained lists of demons and how to identify them. We were trying to find one who matched Lex’s description. The problem was, the demon population of the world was a pretty sizable demographic. Also, Lex had been extremely talented at keeping his true nature hidden. I sighed, gently turning the page of an ancient compendium. It was bound in old leather, and the pages were made of a thick vellum. The manuscript had been written and illuminated by hand. Ben had given me a pair of tiny white cotton gloves to wear while handling the book.

  “How old is this manuscript?” I asked him. He was leaning back in his chair, another book in his hands, which were covered in similar white cotton gloves.

  “That was made somewhere around 1300,” he replied.

  “Wow,” I replied. “How long have you had it?” He squinted and smiled sadly.

  “Since the monk who made it finished it,” he said.

  “Friend of yours?”

  “You could say that.” He sighed deeply. “He wanted me to have protection. Thaddeus was a man plagued by demons.”

  “It’s why you grow so much sage,” I guessed. He nodded and looked at me archly.

  “It’s why I don’t typically mess with demon-kind.”

  “What happened to him?” I said. He looked pained in response to my question.

  “The demons took him,” he explained. “He never returned.” Aiden’s heavy, confident steps entered the room. We both looked up. His face was alight with excitement.

  “Well, kids, I’m off,” Aiden announced. He wiped his hands together with a clap.

  “Where are you going?” I asked him.

  “I’ve a date with a certain lady of solid gold,” he remarked. “I heard from a delightful little bird that my artifact may be entombed with a Catholic missionary of all places.”

  “A little bird?” I asked.

  “I have a friend who works in the Black Market,” Aiden explained. “She lets me know when she hears a tip, and I return the favor by bringing her things that she can sell for about three times their worth.” At the mention of a “she” my heart sank a little.

  “Good luck,” I said. Ben stood and walked over to him. They slapped a high five.

  “Go get her, man,” Ben said.

  “Be back soon!” Aiden promised gleefully. He turned and left. We heard a door open and slam closed down the hallway.

  I glanced out through the mullioned window. A large dragon was taking flight. I was surprised at the quickness of the change from man to beast. As a dragon, Aiden was massive, with bright golden scales that caught the late afternoon sun. His massive wings were opened, like lace on the spokes of an opened umbrella. The power, the strength, the contours of his muscles and the play of light on his scales made the sight absolutely breathtaking.

  “He’s rather vain about his looks,” Ben commented. I looked over at him and smiled.

  “Not surprising. Is that what you look like?”

  “Not quite,” Ben smiled at me crookedly as he sat back down beside me. “I’m a Green. I have a little bit of a different body structure than that of the Gold.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I replied noncommittally.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” Ben asked, standing again and stretching. I nodded.

  “Yes, please. What we had last night was delicious.” He nodded.

  “Aiden got it about two centuries ago,” Ben mused. “From some defunct noble in France.” I raised my eyebrows, impressed.

  He returned with a bottle and two glasses, pouring me a generous helping. The wine was a deep, almost blood red. Unlike blood, it was clear. The cut-crystal that held it made it look like a precious stone.

  “Thank you,” I said, accepting the wineglass from him. I took a sip. My mouth was flooded with the warm, sweet taste of the red wine. Ben sat down beside me with his own.

  “So? Have you found anything yet?” he asked hopefully. I sighed and shook my head.

  “I’ve gone through all of the lesser demons,” I said with a shrug. “None match Lex’s description, so I’m thinking that maybe he’s one of the major demons and was just able to hide his true nature really well. The descriptions of the major demons are super ugly, though. I don’t know if I’d recognize him.”

  “For example?” he asked, sipping his wine. I pulled the book that sat on the table closer to me and read.

  “Azazriel. One of the High Demons. Dark-skinned with red eyes and long fangs. Azazriel is covered with excessive scarring from his love of flame. He often breathes it forth. His preferred method of feeding is by burning his victims alive and then eating the ashes.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Ben said sarcastically. He sighed. I shook my head in exhaustion.

  “I only ever saw him in human form,” I explained. “His eyes would sometimes glow red, but that’s as far as he ever went.”

  “Then I would definitely say that he is a major demon,” Ben said. “He wouldn’t have been ab
le to hide it so well otherwise.” I sighed deeply and pushed the book away from me.

  “I need a break,” I said. I picked up my wineglass and drank deeply. I looked over at Ben, who was studying me closely. “What’s your story, Ben?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then looked away from me and took a sip of his wine.

  “Well, I was born, approximately, 1235 CE,” he began hesitantly, as if he didn’t talk about his past much. My eyebrows shot skyward.

  “Really? You don’t seem that old.”

  “Dragon shifters age slowly,” he explained in a soft voice. “We are children for far longer than a human.” I nodded.

  “How old is Aiden?”

  “He was born around 25 CE,” Ben said. “He lived in Rome for a while.”

  “Wow.” He laughed at my surprised look.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “I grew up with my mother in a small cottage in the woods. It was very quiet, peaceful. This was somewhere around what is now Surrey.”

  “You don’t have an accent,” I commented.

  “I haven’t lived in England in a very long time,” he replied simply. “My mother was killed by dragon hunters in the 1400’s.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That must have been hard.” He nodded. “What about your father?”

  “We hid from him. He beat her while she was pregnant with me. Some dragons are…rather violent. It’s in our genetic makeup, I suppose. I met him once.” His eyes were far away, a slightly pained look in them. He took a large gulp of wine. “Anyway, I was alone for a long time. I stayed in the woods and grew things. I was a healer for the local villagers. It was quiet.” I placed a comforting hand on his arm.

  “You don’t seem violent to me,” I said gently.

  “I try.” He shrugged. “You haven’t seen me get angry.”

  I laughed, thinking that it would be rather difficult to get the easy-going Ben ruffled.

  “Anyway, Aiden found me,” he went on. “This was in the sixteenth century. My quiet life was disrupted entirely. He needed someone good with herbs. We went on adventures.”