Tears of Blood

by Simone Beaudelaire

  A dark shape knelt above her, the sun shining on ebony skin gleaming with sweat. He’d shaved off his hair, completely gone, but those burning dark eyes boring down into hers were no less intense for the weeks which had passed.

  "Lucien?"

  "I’m here, my love."

  "Where were you?"

  "I am still one of the nephilim. I have work to do."

  "Killing my sisters."

  He didn’t try to deny it. "Yes."

  "Why didn’t you kill me, Lucien, when we met? You should have."

  "I couldn’t, Sarahi. You’re not like the others."

  "How could you know that from such a brief conversation?"

  "I knew before you opened your mouth. It’s your aura, love. It’s so beautiful. No one evil would have such a lovely pink aura. Evil makes it black, but yours isn’t even purple. It shines like the sunset. I could never kill such a beautiful soul."

  His lips met hers. They kissed for endless moments, and at last Sarahi’s appetite was satisfied. She was full to overflowing long before he lifted her simple cotton sundress over her head, lowered her to the ground, and covered her with his body.

  By the time his hands went to her breasts, lifting the heavy globes to taste and pleasure her aching nipples, the only hunger she felt was her own desire for her lover. She traced her fingers over the smoothness of his shaven skull, down the back of his neck, between his powerful shoulder blades.

  ***

  Lucien shivered as her skillful fingers tickled and aroused him. This time he wanted more. He’d spent more time than he should have over the last six weeks observing the men who were drawn to succubae, wanting to learn what they knew so he could use it on his own beloved.

  He trailed his lips down the center of her body, kissing her belly, dipping lower. Sarahi moaned and parted her thighs so he could move lower yet, kissing the scarlet curls, parting them with his tongue, tasting the lush aroused wetness of her intimate folds. He found the swollen center of her pleasure and worked it with delicate precision, bringing her to a hard, shrieking climax.

  Sarahi clawed at the earth as her pleasure washed over her. Her whimpers of delight nearly shattered his will. It was time for him to be insider her again. He ran one last thorough lick over her heated flesh before working his way back up the midline of her body, pausing a moment over her belly as though listening to some unknown sound, before shrugging, moving on. At last he was on top of her. She twined her legs around his hips and urged him closer.

  He needed no further instruction. He knew just where she wanted him, where he wanted to be, and he entered, filling her completely. Her nails clawed his back as he pulled and thrust into her tight, clenching flesh. Another, wilder peak broke over her, and she wailed, the sound of her ecstatic cries carrying on the desert wind as he pounded into her until his own climax took him.

  Heart thundering, Lucien withdrew from Sarahi’s body and rolled them onto their sides. He looked into the beautiful green eyes of his beloved. She sighed with satisfaction.

  "Is everything all right, love?" he asked her.

  "It is now," she replied, her voice slow and sinuous as she trailed her fingers over his heated flesh, "but next time you need to go, love, please tell me. I didn’t know where you were. I thought you had left me."

  "I could never leave you."

  "Then all is well." She pressed her lips to his shoulder.

  "Are you certain?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  He cupped her belly. "Something felt strange here."

  "Well, I have been unusually hungry."

  "Oh." He glanced away, trying not to think about how she must have satisfied her hunger in his absence.

  "But I didn’t feed. I couldn’t. I only wanted you."

  He looked at her, confused. "What does that mean?"

  "I have no idea. I worried I might be losing control of myself, but that should take months."

  "Lie back."

  Sarahi rolled onto her back and Lucien pressed his ear to her belly. His eyes narrowed. "Love, can succubae conceive?"

  "Not that I’m aware of. Only mother is strong enough for that."

  "Mother?"

  "Lilith."

  "Ah, yes. I recall. Sarahi, there is something alive inside you."

  Her delicately arched brows drew together. "What?"

  "If you were human, I would say you were with child."

  "No succubus has ever conceived a child."

  "Nonetheless, I believe that you have."

  "It cannot be."

  "Feel for yourself."

  Sarahi closed her eyes and reached inward, considering. Her eyelids flew open; her jaw dropped.

  "Lucien!"

  "I know." He gathered her tenderly into his arms and carried her inside the trailer.

  Chapter 6

  Mojave Desert, 1979

  It turned out a pregnant succubus was not that different from a pregnant human. Sarahi was normally ravenously hungry, and as her belly expanded, her hunger grew more and more. And like a human woman, only certain foods appealed to her. She was no longer able to take nourishment from any source other than the sweet love energy of her angel.

  Lucien fed her lavishly, filling her greedy belly with the choicest of pleasures, spending so much time with his lady that he was disciplined more than once for not being where he was supposed to be. It was his own fault. She was so luscious he couldn’t stay away.

  He never told her she was draining him. The more energy he gave to the sustaining of their child, the weaker he became. How could he say a word? She would be consumed with guilt, and for naught, because the baby needed to be fed, and this was the only nourishment its mother could take.

  Still, it was a relief when, on that Midsummer’s Eve, Sarahi woke with a start, wracked by labor pains. Lucien had summoned the Indian woman who had agreed to act as midwife, and the two of them oversaw the birth.

  As the dawn pierced the horizon, Sarahi gave a long loud wail and the midwife scooped into her arms a tiny, squalling bundle of limbs with a wisp of fuzzy dark hair.

  Lucien kissed his lady, proud of her strength, while the woman cleaned and examined the baby. Then she laid him tenderly in Sarahi’s arms and showed the succubus how to place her son on her breast.

  Lucien looked on, pride swelling his heart. He was blessed beyond what his kind could ever have expected. Sliding his arm around her pale shoulders, he kissed the fiery hair at her temple.

  A boy...that’s good. At least I don’t have to try to be father to a succubus. He’s going to grow up to be a fine, strong naphil.

  "What should we call him, love?" he asked her.

  "I think... Josiah," she replied.

  "Josiah. Excellent. I like that."

  He leaned over and kissed the baby too.

  Chapter 7

  Lucien had been gone for five weeks. The work had been excruciating, long and dangerous. Several of his fellow nephilim had not returned. But Lucien had been determined to survive. He had others relying on him now.

  In truth, this was the reason his kind vowed celibacy. The responsibility of caring for a woman and a child meant he was not able to throw his life away in pursuit of his mission. But having tasted the sweetness of Sarahi’s kiss that long ago day in Rome, this conclusion had been inevitable.

  He found his lady inside the trailer, sitting on the bed, propped up on pillows, their son cuddled to her breast. He was alarmed to see that as she fed the baby, tears were spilling down her cheeks. Her slender shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

  "What’s wrong, my love?" He slid into the bed beside her, stroking the dark skin of his son’s cheek where it touched her pale flesh.

  "Oh, Lucien!" She leaned against his shoulder and wept as though her heart were breaking.

  He stroked the scarlet silk of her hair, waiting for the storm to pass, wondering what on earth had upset his lady so much.

  "Talk to me, Sarahi. What is it?"

  "It’s the baby," she waile
d.

  "What? Is he ill?"

  "No. Worse. You can’t imagine how bad."

  "Why?"

  "Lucien, look at him."

  Josiah had finished nursing, and she lifted him to his father, showing Lucien the brilliant green eyes shining from the dark face.

  "How nice, love. He has your eyes."

  "Demon eyes."

  "So he takes after you in some ways. He’s a boy. Therefore he’s a naphil."

  "No, love. He’s not."

  "There’s no such thing as a male succubus."

  She sobbed. "If only that were true. Haven’t you heard the legend of the incubus?"

  "Bah. Old wives’ tales. There’s never been such a creature."

  "Lucien, he takes my energy with the milk. I can feel it. He is an incubus. This is terrible."

  Lucien’s mind was reeling. "Is that really such a bad thing? Legend says the incubus will have incredible powers. With us to teach him right from wrong, he’ll be an agent for good."

  Sarahi shook her head. "Do you remember the day we met?" She struggled visibly to control herself as she spoke.

  "Of course."

  "I told you our kind fed because we had no choice?"

  He looked at her but said nothing.

  She closed her eyes. "It’s true, but not the whole truth. We feed, and in the feeding, our men are weakened. Eventually this weakening damages their souls and destroys their will. They become enslaved."

  "Is this the fate you had in store for me? To be your captive angel?"

  "No!" she cried. "Never that! I love you, Lucien. I believed you would be strong enough, and I would not be able to harm you in that way." She grasped his arm, willing him to believe. "Besides those men are not enslaved to the succubus. They belong to our mother. To Lilith. They are brought to her, and become her property."

  "To what end? Are they her army?"

  Sarahi laughed, a little hysterically. "How like a warrior. No, love... well yes, they fight if necessary, but no. They are drones."

  His dark eyebrows came together in consternation.

  "Like bees, Lucien. She’s the queen. Their job is..."

  "To breed."

  "Yes. She is the only one of us with pure demon blood. Our half-demon heritage is not strong enough to take a man’s seed. Only she can breed with them. That is how the succubae are created."

  "So she really is your mother?"

  "Yes. But the succubae are not truly her goal."

  "Then what, Sarahi? What does she want? What are we fighting against?"

  "She has been trying for centuries to have a son."

  He looked at her in silence while the implications sank in. "She’s trying to create an incubus?" he asked at last.

  "Yes. If it is her son, she will have control. She can finally have her revenge." The despair she was feeling showed on her face.

  "Love, your mother is a powerful demoness, nearly a goddess. Against whom does she seek revenge?"

  "Against all the children of Adam, and the One who loves them. She has nurtured her hatred and humiliation for millennia. She believes with the power of the incubus under her control, she can enslave all the children of Adam, thereby inflicting the ultimate suffering on..."

  "The Creator."

  "Yes." She looked into his eyes, stricken.

  "But, Sarahi, this is not her son. He’s ours."

  "Do you honestly think that will stop her? If she finds out he exists, she will claim him. And it’s only a matter of time. Just last week, one of my sisters came by to visit and asked why I was cradling a baby."

  Lucien stared at his lady, horrified.

  "I told her I was trying to seduce his father. She thought it was a great joke, but that story won’t hold forever. She will eventually find out and take him from me. She'll turn him. Oh, Lucien, you should have killed me when you had the chance."

  He gathered her into his arms, the baby cradled between their bodies. She hid her face against his shoulder. "No, my love. I could never kill you. I love you."

  "And I love you, Lucien. That is why I need your help."

  "Anything, my love."

  "You have to take the baby. Hide him. Hide him where even I cannot find him. Find a place where he will be safe." He could feel her burning tears rolling down his shoulder.

  "Take Josiah? Love, how will you stand it?"

  "You have to. I don’t want him going to her. It’s best this way." Her voice broke. She drew an unsteady breath and continued. "And you have to go away from me too. I can’t have you near me. If we created one incubus together, we could create another. I can’t bear it."

  "I won’t leave you, Sarahi."

  "You must. You have to raise our son. Teach him what is right. Teach him to be good, to be light, so he won’t be swayed by her temptation."

  He looked down into her glimmering green eyes. She was right. This must be done. He lowered his lips to hers in the most aching of kisses.

  "I will for now, my love. But we will be together again some day, I swear it. I love you, Sarahi."

  "And I love you, Lucien."

  She clutched the baby close to her breast, then lowered him a bit, looking down at his little face as love and despair warred in her expression. She touched her lips to his forehead. "I love you, my little one." Her voice broke. Tears splashed on the baby’s nose and she kissed him again and again.

  At last, she hesitantly extended Josiah. "Take him while I can still let him go!" she wailed.

  He gathered their son into his arms and stood, turned as though to leave. Then he turned back.

  "Swear me a vow, my love."

  "Anything."

  "Don’t starve. Live. Wait for me."

  She nodded. He was gone. The sound of Sarahi’s heartbroken sobs rang out across the nighttime silence of the desert.

  Part II

  Chapter 8

  A Remote part of Central Montana, 1989

  "Mr. Smith, tell me the story again," ten-year-old Josiah begged. "Tell me about my father."

  "Joe, I’ve told you three times this week," the silver-haired black man sighed, frustrated by his young ward’s pestering.

  "It’s okay, Josiah," Annie replied. "I remember it. I’ll tell you."

  Josiah smiled, white teeth flashing in his café au lait face, but he was in no way deterred. "I want to hear it from your grandpa," he told his friend.

  "Well, Josiah," Mr. Smith replied, "I’ll consider it... after practice."

  Josiah commenced to whining as only a small boy can whine, but Mr. Smith put his hand on the child’s thin back and ushered him out of the central meeting hall of the compound to the courtyard. Annie trailed along, trying not to look too eager. Why doesn’t Josiah like practice? I love it! I’d do it every day if I had a chance!

  But today, it seemed, grandpa was feeling traditional. Maybe the fact that the other elder clerics were patrolling the shooting range had something to do with it. Those old men and women didn’t care for the sight of a pistol or rifle in the hands of a young girl. Grandpa handed the semi-automatic handgun to Josiah and reminded him to aim only at the target. He stood by watching the boy aim, fire, and miss. The recoil nearly knocked Josiah on his butt. Annie grinned. She could control a pistol. It was easy for her. But she had gotten some height in the last year and Josiah was still little-kid small. Annoyed at being left out of target practice, Annie crept away from her grandfather, who was showing Josiah – again – how to strengthen his stance to compensate for the recoil. She crossed the flat expanse of treeless grass which formed the courtyard to the far corner where, against a white stone wall, a small pavilion with a bright green roof and matching columns provided shade for the six ancient specimens that, along with grandfather, provided leadership to the Order of Clerics.

  She stood behind one treated lumber support column and peeked at the group. They’re so OLD. That one there must be forty! Unabashedly nosy, she listened to what they were saying.

  "Yes, I know he’s a unique cr
eature, but so far he shows signs of being nothing more than what he is... a weak naphil. He’s shown himself slower, smaller, and less adept than any of his brethren," said a woman with white hair like meringue, styled in a puffy bouffant on top of her head.

  "He’s young," retorted a balding gentleman with windshield glasses perched on a short, upturned nose. "And it’s been millennia since there was a new naphil. Maybe they develop more slowly."

  "Ha!" laughed a third, another man, this one with a nimbus of silver hair and deep wrinkles on his cheeks.,"He’s only one quarter angel, three quarters human. We should train him as a cleric and forget about the rest. How’s his father? Is he out of confinement yet? No one fights like Lucien."

  "He is to be released later this week," said the first woman, resting her hand on one of the rough-hewn columns.

  Away across the lawn, the pistol sounded another deafening blast. Annie turned to look. This time Josiah was actually sitting on the ground. The shot had gone wide again, she could see. The target remained unblemished. Grandfather reached down a hand to Josiah and hauled the boy to his feet, quickly averting his face. Annie saw the flash of irritated amusement.