He could feel the reluctance in the acknowledgment. He couldn’t blame them. The towering demoness was terribly intimidating. She looked like beautiful death. But the thought of what would happen to his Sarahi, his bride, if this creature rose to power unchecked overcame his nerves and propelled him forward. Pulling out the two thin blades from their crossed sheaths on his back, Lucien pressed into the fray, dodging and slashing.
A naked woman, beautiful and seductive, slunk towards him, radiating lust. Lucien scowled and swung one sword, reducing her to a shower of golden dust. His lady had been right to urge intimacy the night before. Bathed in Sarahi’s love, the power of the succubae had no effect on him. A quick glance showed his fellow soldiers equally unmoved. Seeing their favorite distraction strategy ineffective, the girls switched to claw and fang. They were damned fast and strong, their lean bodies honed by millennia of training and skirmishes.
A drone with a broadsword which would have done a medieval knight proud came at Lucien, swinging his blade with an overhand movement meant to cleave the naphil’s skull. Lucien sidestepped and the sword sank deep into the earth. Lucien ended the poor fellow’s miserable existence with a quick slash to the throat. The body fell to the earth with a heavy thud, raising a cloud of desert dust, and decomposed instantly. Perhaps he really had been a medieval knight.
Lucien moved forward again. This time, a smaller, slighter man engaged him. He had an Asian cast to his features and moved like a cat, thrusting and jabbing with a light, maneuverable sword. Lucien met him parry for parry, holding his own, not pressing the attack, giving no advantage. If this man had not been a soldier in the enemy’s army, he would have been a pleasure to spar with.
But this was war. With a sigh of regret, Lucien dodged past the whirling blade and opened the warrior’s belly, spilling his entrails into the sand. The man fell shrieking until Lucien delivered a coup de grace through his heart.
Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and Lucien turned. On a hillside, four slight figures were silhouetted against the horizon. Three made beckoning motions with their fingers and a few dozen drones abandoned the battle and walked towards the rise.
Another succubus darted into Lucien’s space, claws slashing, and he rejoined the battle with a sigh.
***
Sarahi looked down from the rise over the scene of battle. Pride swelled her heart as she saw how the brave company of angels and men held their own against a much larger force of demons. She could see Lucien, the connection between them telling her the tall dark figure cutting a swath through the melee was hers. It occurred to her she might use that connection to help him. She was full to overflowing with the loving he’d given her last night, and she sent some of the energy back to him, not in a distracting burst, but a thin stream. In the heat of battle, he might not even notice.
Beside her, her sisters reached out towards the scene before them and called, beckoning with their hands. All though the mass of soldiers, men lifted their heads and turned, heedless of the enemies they’d been engaging. They marched as one away from the battle and stood, shoulder to shoulder, in front of the women who’d made them.
"Well, Salome," Jael said, "they’re here. How do you figure on releasing them?"
"Rather simply, I think. We made them by draining away their life force, their will. I don’t know about you, but I have enough excess energy to launch a rocket. Watch this."
The black-haired succubus closed her eyes. Sarahi gasped. A cord like a golden string lay across the desert sand connecting her to one of the men, a young blond. She sent a pulse of energy though the cord and back into the man. Awareness dawned in the blue eyes.
"I’m sorry for what I did to you," Salome said softly. She made a slashing motion with her hand and the bond between them severed, the cord shriveling and disappearing. "You do not need to fight. Go in peace. There’s a town over there." She indicated the north, away from the battle.
Interestingly, as the connection between the two faded, the man seemed to age. No longer a handsome youth, he suddenly looked to be in his mid-thirties. He nodded to Salome and turned, walking slowly away.
"How did you know to do that?" Rahab asked.
"I’m not sure," Salome replied. "I never thought about trying it before. I always thought the drones belonged to Mother."
"Did you see how he aged," Jael asked? Some of these men are centuries old. If we release them, they will die."
Rahab nodded. "But they are human, and that is their destiny. I think, at least for mine, they would prefer to die as men than live as slaves." She sniffled, visibly steeled herself, and pulsed. A dozen thin cords flared and then shriveled. A moment later, three men were walking towards town. Sarahi felt a pang of sympathy for the others, lying in various states of decomposition on the sand. But the flare of gratitude in their eyes as they regained their souls helped... a little.
***
Lucien fought his way through a pocket of drones. He really did try not to kill them. Some were staggeringly bad soldiers. And all were acting on the will of others. He knocked them out and pushed them aside, always pressing forward, always trying to get to Lilith. He should have been feeling tired by now, but he still bubbled with fresh energy.
Another warrior rose up between him and his target. Lucien ground his teeth in frustration. Long blond hair straggled down a powerful back. Blue eyes glittered with blood lust. This one wasn’t fully engulfed in the will of the succubae. He fought at least in part because he wanted to. Lucien recognized the furry loincloth and heavy weapons of a Viking Berserker. The man was splattered from head to foot with blood and other, less mentionable things. He swung hard at Lucien, who dodged the blow and aimed low with his own sword, trying to take out the fellow’s knees. The Viking jumped over the thrust and shot out a meaty fist, catching Lucien under the jaw and sending him sprawling in the dust. The battle ax fell and Lucien scrambled back to avoid it, placing his hand squarely on something soft and wet. He risked a glance and regretted it. His hand had landed squarely in the split-open chest of a dead cleric. The boy’s intestines tangled around his fingers. He shook them loose. His moment of distraction came at a heavy price. With a wild yell, the Viking pounced, ready to land on Lucien with both his leather boots and all his massive weight. Lucien braced for the blow, but serious injury was unavoidable. He closed his eyes.
A blast startled him back to awareness. The Viking lay sprawled on his back several feet away. The Assassin stood over Lucien, a shotgun braced against her shoulder, a wisp of smoke rising from the muzzle.
"You need to be more careful." Annie’s amused voice came from behind the mask. "It’s dangerous out here." She dropped the weapon and extended a hand, helping him to his feet.
"I didn’t call for you, Assassin," he teased.
"I know," she replied. "You didn’t have to. Now come on. There’s an evil bitch over there who could use a bit of humbling."
Lucien nodded, reclaiming his sword from where it had fallen. Together they stalked into the fray once more.
***
"You know something?" Jael said from their perch above the battle. "Our men are doing better than I expected. They really are holding their own."
"They are," Sarahi agreed. "But Mother isn’t fighting. She’s just standing by. They’ll be hard-pressed to take her after fighting through that lot."
"And she stands there," Rahab added darkly, "like the overgrown leech she is, letting her own daughters die so she can have an easier time of it."
"Is there anything we can do?" Salome wanted to know.
Jael thought for a moment. "We could call our sisters. See if any of them are wiling to walk away. Even a few could make a difference. Especially if they take their drones with them."
"Good idea," Salome said. Joining hands, the four concentrated on calling their sisters, touching each heart with a summons.
***
Lucien blinked in surprise. Whereas the path before him had once been clogged with fig
hters, suddenly large patches had opened up. With careful maneuvering, he and The Assassin wended their way through until they stood on empty ground, with nothing between them and the oversized form of their enemy. The enemy and her much smaller companion.
Lucien closed his eyes against a wave of pain. His son stood beside and slightly behind Lilith.
"Josiah," Annie breathed beside him.
He nodded. "We can’t worry about him now. We have a job to do."
"I know," Annie said, but her voice was unsteady.
"Don’t go girly on me now, Assassin. Put Annie away a little longer." Then he called to Josiah, "Son, you don’t have to do this. She has no power over you. You can leave at any time. Walk away."
"Son?" The demon laughed in her hissing, snake-like voice. "So you’re the one? Ah yes, you do look like my little darling." She turned and ran one long black claw down the center of Josiah’s cheek. The boy did not react in any way.
"You know something," Lucien said, feigning bravado, "You are, without a doubt, the worst mother-in-law the world has ever known. Fortunately for me, my wife will not be angry if I kill you."
Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Wife?" She shook her head. "What a pathetic succubus that Sarahi is. I should have eaten her when she was a baby. All right, angel, you want to fight? Have at me."
She stepped forward and her claws grew longer and longer until they became ten swords in the sunlight, black like the tarry darkness of her aura. Lucien drew his own blades. The two warriors regarded each other in silence, each weighing the threat. Then Lilith shot forward like a striking cobra, her claws flying straight towards Lucien’s heart.
***
"What do you traitors want?" Cali demanded. "Why are you calling us away from the battle?"
"Why did you come?" Rahab retorted, answering the question with a question. "Jezebel isn’t here. Neither is Herodias. Those truly loyal to Mother ignored us. You came. Why?"
"Maybe we’re just curious. Why aren’t you fighting?"
"Our husbands don’t want us to," Sarahi replied. "They don’t even know we’re here."
"Husband?" Cali asked, thunderstruck. "How can that work?"
"They’re nephilim. They’re so deliciously strong," Jael cooed.
The sixteen succubae on the hillside stared at their sisters.
"That sounds rather like sleeping with the enemy," Cali said.
"Well, it depends on your definition of enemy," Rahab replied. "Mother sends you up against men and angels to protect her own hide. Our men are down there risking themselves to keep us safe. My husband..." She sobbed. "He died so I could be protected. Tell me which sounds more like an enemy."
Cali acknowledged the truth of that with a curt nod. "And you too?"
"Oh yes," Sarahi replied, looking over the battlefield. "Mine’s the most magnificent one of the bunch. Just look." She indicated the area where Lilith stood. Before her Lucien’s midnight skin gleamed with sweat in the desert sun. His muscles bulged as he held his swords at ready. "My Lucien. Josiah’s father. Isn’t he glorious?"
"Are you saying we could have... all that?"
"Just imagine," Jael said. "A life without fear, without..." She waved her hand in Lilith’s direction. "A husband who loves you. Even a child. It’s all possible, sisters. But first you need to step out of Lilith’s realm. And take your drones with you. They’re dying for you, not for her. They don’t care about her. You know that. She’ll just kill them anyway."
"So what do you want us to do? Fight against her?"
"No," Salome said. "Just leave. Release your drones and go. Let the men save their strength to deal with her."
Cali looked out across the desert, considering.
***
Lucien blocked the talons of the attacking demoness with his sword, and then dug his feet into the sand and shoved, managing to push her back enough to get clear. He whirled to parry another deadly thrust of those terrifying claws. He wasn’t going to be able to maintain this forever, Annie saw. Lilith had the advantages of size, strength and outright meanness. Lucien wouldn’t be able to win. But at this close range, the shotgun was more a liability than a help. She dropped it to the ground and pulled her .44 Mag from her hip holster, following the fight from side to side, desperate to get a clear shot. What had they said? A head shot, sever the spine, or take out the heart. But all without hitting Lucien.
The movement across the tableau of a low rise before her brought her vision to Josiah. Her beloved stood by staring, not at the fight, but at her.
Don’t! she urged him silently. Don’t be part of this. Don’t take her side. Walk away, Josiah.
Then she returned her attention to the fight. Josiah was doing nothing, so she ignored him.
Lucien rolled to avoid another slash, this one aimed at his throat. His movement brought him directly to Josiah’s feet. He hopped upright, looking his son directly in the face.
"No matter what happens," he said, "you are my son and I love you."
Then he screamed as Lilith grabbed him from behind, sinking a handful of claws into one side of his back and whirling him around. A slash of her free hand laid open the angel’s belly, and blood sprayed. She threw him to the ground.
"No!" Annie screamed.
Lilith hissed at her and crouched over Lucien, mouth opening wide, and then wider, the jaws hyperextending until the lower rested against her throat, exposing wicked back-curving fangs.
She poised to strike. Annie moved without thought, racing forward at top speed, crouching and slamming into the demon with her shoulder. The force of her momentum was sufficient to knock Lilith off-balance. Quick as a blink, Annie grabbed Lucien in her arms and muttered the words which caused relocation, the only shelter she knew firmly fixed in her mind.
The desert shifted in a rainbow as the demoness pounced into the exact spot where they had been.
The world rematerialized into a decomposing bed in the interior of a decrepit trailer. Making a frantic plea to Sarahi, Annie ripped off her mask and pressed the fabric into Lucien’s belly, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood and darker fluids. The snowy fabric was instantly drenched.
"Don’t die, Lucien," she begged. "Stay with me." Even as the words crossed her lips, she knew they were useless. This was not a survivable injury. The poor angel had been all but eviscerated.
Drawing every ounce of strength she possessed, Annie began feeding healing energy into Lucien’s wound. First repair the bowel. The leakage from there could kill in its own right. By the time she had fixed one of the deep gashes, she was exhausted.
"What happened?" The soft voice spoke in her ear. "Oh no!" Sarahi scrambled onto the bed and grasped her husband’s hand in hers. "Can you heal him?"
"I tried," Annie said, panting. "It’s beyond me. What do I do, Sarahi?"
But Sarahi was not listening. "Lucien, love. Hang on. Don’t let go."
"Let me go, Sarahi. I’m done."
"No!" she screamed. "Without you, I have no reason to live. I’ll never let you go."
"Live, love. You have to keep trying to reach Josiah."
"Wait...Josiah!" Sarahi lifted tear-stained eyes to Annie’s face. "Call Josiah."
"Wha... what? Why?"
"He can give you energy. Only you. Get him here. He can help you."
Annie inhaled an unsteady breath. "How do I call him?"
"The same way you just called me. Hurry!"
Lucien coughed. A trickle of blood streamed from the corner of his mouth.
"Josiah!" Annie screamed. Her voice rang across the dessert. Every person heard it, and the battle paused as warriors on both sides wondered what had happened.
Sarahi took up the cry and sent it, straight as an arrow, into her son’s unguarded heart.
Chapter 21
Josiah stood stiffly on the battlefield, not participating, just watching. What he had seen so far stunned him. He’d grown up around these nephilim, these clerics. He had been raised to be one of them. By all rights he shou
ld be there fighting among them now. But here he was, standing beside a demon. How had his life gotten so far off track? But then, he was as much demon as he was angel. His mother... he closed his eyes as the image of a beautiful red-haired woman with a sparkling pink aura danced before him. That had been love. Not perfect, but real. She’d done the best she could. And Annie. His sweet Annie, who’d defied her only remaining family member to be with him. That was love, too, and he'd used and abandoned her. And his father. His imperfect, stubborn, know-it-all father who’d endured ten years of silent solitary confinement to be sure he was safe, who’d been separated from his beloved for two decades. His father had loved him too.
He’d thrown all that away for this. For this. He really must be the demon. And now his father lay wounded, dying somewhere, slain by this woman, this monster he’d chosen. He looked at her. She was sucking on one long black claw. He shuddered.
Josiah felt sick with grief. Too sick to maintain the shields around his heart which blocked his mother’s sweet calls to return.
"JOSIAH!" The scream ripped across the desert, and heads, angel and demon alike, swiveled, searching for the source. But Josiah knew. He knew where it had come from. He knew who was calling him. No one touched him so deeply.
"Josiah," Lilith said, reaching out to him claws which still dripped his father’s blood. He looked at her in deep disgust and vanished.
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