Redemption of Blood

by Michel Prince

  “I let you kill them every time.”

  I sighed. I’d always had a man by my side. A quiet one, usually focused, and not flighty.

  “I thought you said we got along great?” KK picked up on my hesitation. I couldn’t stop fidgeting with the salt shaker.

  “Getting along and fighting are two different things.”

  “You don’t want me as your partner?”

  “You know how Nye is basically a babysitter for Berlin—”

  “I’m more than happy to get into a fight.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “Then what are you worried about?”

  “KK…”

  “If you go all nineteen fifties on my ass I’m gonna—”

  “The fifties were a good time.”

  “For who? Jesus, how many times do I have to kick your ass—”

  “Am I interrupting?” Nye’s deep voice resonated in the kitchen as he entered and KK stormed off to the pantry. “What did I miss?”

  “You can’t keep her from fighting.”

  “You think I haven’t figured that out?”

  “Eventually she’ll kill us both…or kill me and tie you up.”

  Nye ran his hand over his head and slunk to a chair. “Why can’t she be more like Zarmina?”

  “Zarmina isn’t even like Zarmina,” I replied. “Have you seen her in the workshop? She’s scary. Those weapons she’s creating are one step up from torture.”

  “Yes, I tested the knife that splinters when it hits its target. It left a bit of a mess.”

  “When can it be put into the field?” Kiriana asked as she walked back into the kitchen. “Or should I just go back to darning socks and stay in a woman’s place?”

  “Would you? Because I have a few pairs—”

  I put my hand up and caught the apple she threw at Nye’s head.

  “Since when are you the smart-ass in this relationship?” she snarled.

  “I’m half of you now…it seemed the right thing to say.”

  “Overwhelming urge there, big man?” she asked with an arched brow.

  “Why don’t you head down to the training center? Gabriel’s sent us five more recruits,” he suggested.

  “Are they new like Berlin?”

  “A few,” Nye confessed. “One’s a Closer like Schmitty here.”

  “Then why is he in the training center?”

  “She is there to help train, I assume. Kiri, my love—”

  “Don’t ‘my love’ me. You just don’t want me to cook.”

  “That’s a general consensus if you must know,” I interjected, only to get my own red, crunchy missile thrown at my head. “Let me guess, you’re making a pie?”

  “Those really aren’t the right brand for apple pie,” Nye said with all seriousness as KK stormed off through the swinging kitchen door screaming about how useless she was.

  I switched topics. “You really upping our rotation? You told me I was to keep her as far away from danger as possible.”

  “I fear my sweet, gentle Other is going to be more dangerous if I do. Schmitty, is she strong enough?”

  “You just sent her down to train others to fight. Why would you do that if you questioned her ability?”

  “Those who can, do, those who can’t, teach. Isn’t that the phrase? In theory Kiri is amazing. With a gun, untouchable, but in a real situation…” Nye shook his head and went to the pantry.

  “She stepped up before.”

  “She saved me before. There’s a difference.”

  Now I understood. Kiriana had never truly defended herself and who’s to say she’d be as driven to protect me as she is for him.

  “Move us to the first position and you to the third. Make sure you’re close enough to observe since your location probably won’t have action. If you’re there it’ll null and void the experiment, but you know your Other has mad love for me.”

  “What?” Nye’s eyes became dark as he stepped out of the pantry and the room temperature dropped ten degrees.

  “It’s a phrase. KK loves you and I love no one.”

  “I’m sorry, this whole thing is…”

  “New. Yeah, I know. Why don’t I…go away while you cook with sharp knives and heavy pots.”

  Chapter 3

  Her Royal Holiness, Princess LaDressa, Daughter of Lucifer the IV

  “REPORT,” I order as my mother enters what I assume is to be my bedchamber.

  The room is less than a fourth of the size of my old chambers in the tower, with a bed I couldn’t imagine Damarion being comfortable on although I was assured this is where he lay. I tried to catch a hint of his scent on the pillows, but could not. It has been too long. In a month all traces of my love have left this house.

  I pull the rough orange blanket up to my chest as if that could warm me. I’m told I will become accustomed to this weather, but who could become acclimated to seventy-three degrees in the daytime and forty at night. I’ve been warned we’re going into even colder days. My only consolation is that there are less than two hundred days until the Hell's Mouth opens and the demons emerge. I’m sure my brother will have noticed my absence by then and he will come for me. Only if Damarion is by my side will I survive his wrath.

  “We were successful, or more accurately I was successful,” my mother boasted. “Cailean is more of a caretaker then a retriever. Although she has the ability to feel the emergence of a demon in the coven, out in the world she has issues with it.”

  “Kanga needs time to recover from the abuse of Pivane,” I reply.

  “You cannot baby the Deumos. They have the ability to appeal to your empathy. You must never give it to them.”

  “I am their Yahweh now. It is my job to protect them.”

  “Protection has many definitions. You protect a child by training them how to use dangerous objects to kill their enemy, not by telling the child not to touch them.”

  My mother did have her own way of looking at things.

  “Where is the demon now?”

  “Recovering in the third house. Cailean is making sure he receives the food he needs.”

  “Salt? Is that not correct?” I ask as I pick up a cupcake, an interesting confection with a large amount of sugar whipped into a soft cream on top. I’ve been informed it is called frosting. “Have you determined I do not have the same needs as a male? Is this what will make me strong?”

  “You tell me?” my mother asks as she sits down next to me on the bed and inspects my arms. They are no longer bruised from the transformation. “We will need you in the calling circle soon. Having both you and Pivane there will allow us to locate the incoming bantlings easier.”

  “I don’t care about the bantlings. I want to locate my love.”

  “I know, but you must consider more than just your heart at this time. You are poised to take over in your brother’s place.”

  “When have I ever cared for politics? My brother has been trying to kill me since my birth because of the thought that I may overtake him. I want to be left alone with Damarion. That is all I desire.”

  “You have a king’s blood in you and all you can think of is a cottage in the woods?” mother snarled.

  “I don’t even know what that means. I’ve never seen anything further than my window. My father was taken from me a century ago and locked in his own prison so his son wouldn’t kill him. How is any of that desirable?”

  “There is more to power then the threat of being killed.”

  “Not in our family.”

  “That strength you showed with Pivane last night was but a drop of the power you have inside you. Do you not understand you could rule Heaven, Earth, and Hell with what is inside you?”

  “Hell is a prison created by my great, great grandfather’s lust for power. I wish for none of it.”

  “Now, but soon you’ll become intoxicated by it. Even in this small coven you have power, the t
aste of it will strengthen you more than any drug or food.”

  “Bring me the one who turned my love to ash.”

  “Find her yourself,” my mother snarled as she rose. “It is time for you to stand and lead. You are vulnerable if you stay in here convalescing.”

  “I can barely stand for more than a few minutes.”

  “Adapt. Damarion showed his greatest strength when he could barely lift his hand.”

  Throwing back the covers I turned and placed my feet on the floor. The cold was eating away at me as if my stockings were nothing. How much longer would it take for me to adapt to this torturous temperature?

  “How much freedom do I give Pivane?”

  “We need him for income. He’s the one that brings money into this coven. The Deumos do not work.”

  “Could they?” I asked, and my mother cocked her head to the side.

  “There are ways women with our skill sets can earn an income.”

  “How?”

  “Selling our bodies, but it is illegal and could bring suspicion on our homes.”

  “Does my father send currency to us?” I ask as I look around the disheveled home.

  “Some fortune comes to us occasionally, but most needs to be made by our Yahweh.”

  “How does one acquire funding in this world?”

  “Damarion and Pivane had taken turns with what would be considered legitimate employment and non.”

  “Non?”

  “Humans pay money for toxins.”

  “What types of toxins?”

  “Some herbal, some chemical. The home marked seven-thirty-three houses a chemical lab. Pivane is one of the larger distributors in the area of a toxin called meth.”

  “What do the toxins do for the humans?”

  “Alters their state of mind. It has no effect on us and I’ve never seen a need for it.”

  “It must not be profitable if we are living in dwellings such as these.”

  “Your Holiness, if I may be so bold, a large home would make us easy to detect and cause an issue with the local humans as well.”

  “Am I expected to obtain employment?”

  “That is not for me to say. You are the Yahweh. Yours is a job not usually held by a female.”

  I took a moment to digest all I had learned.

  “We shall find ways to make Pivane’s income unnecessary. He has no other use outside of contacting my brother with lies.”

  Standing caused me to feel light-headed, but I managed to stay upright.

  “Now, where is Masako?”

  * * * *

  Kiriana Kladshon George

  Train, train, train. If I’m so damn good at training then I should be good enough to fight. Stomping my way down the stairs to the cement and stone basement of the compound, I came upon a group of jackasses. Okay, maybe they weren’t, but today was not a day to be the Mary-Fucking-Sunshine-Welcome-Wagon. Nope, today was the day to beat someone and lookie what I got here, fresh meat.

  “How long have you been sitting here picking your asses?” I snarled at the five new Frozen. All but one looked confused as they thumbed through the latest interior designer mags.

  “Gabriel said we were to wait here for our room assignments,” a middle-aged man said.

  He looked like he should be cheering on a group of over sugared five-year-old soccer players rather than fighting the influx of demons.

  “My Other and I are in charge at this compound. This is the training center, not the arrivals chamber.” I waved my hands because—I don’t know. Maybe the weapons on the wall, the workout equipment, and mats on the floor weren’t enough of a clue. “Have you even checked in with Nye?”

  “Nye?”

  “My Other.”

  “Other what?”

  “It’s her husband. We call them Others because they are the other half of their souls.” A woman came from the shadow in the corner.

  “You must be the Closer,” I said with a bit of relief.

  “Esther,” she said, coming over to the group.

  Her black hair was held back by a braid that fell to her butt. She had chalky-white skin, and I wondered if she’d ever seen the light of day.

  “Are you in charge of check-ins?”

  “I don’t do check-ins. I came down here to train because in a week you’ll all be out fighting, except you, Esther. I’m sure you’ll be put in rotation today.”

  “I was surprised I didn’t get tapped for noon duty.”

  “We do things differently here.”

  “So I heard. Half duties and training a bunch of newbies to be put out to slaughter.” She scanned the three guys and one girl sitting on the workout mats. “No offense.”

  “We’re newbies?” a hulk of a man asked the girl softly; she rolled her eyes and went back to flipping through pages.

  “Esther, I will need your help to train these guys.” To the “newbies”, I said, “Nye will talk to you all later about your rooms, duties, training schedules, and therapy sessions.”

  “Therapy?”

  “We’re trying to reduce the number of those slaughtered by having them rethink their actions.”

  “Who’s the touchy feely shrink?”

  “I am.”

  “So by touchy feely you mean smacky punchy?”

  I wasn’t sure about Esther.

  “Only on the days I need to get crap out. Speaking of which, do any of you know how to fight? Combat training? Karate? You were a bully that tormented younger kids due to your inadequacies?”

  Esther stood at attention in her black body suit.

  “What’s your name again?”

  “Kiriana or KK. Fine, let’s do roll call.”

  “I’m Dave,” the would-be soccer coach said.

  “Sophia,” the lone girl said as she placed her magazine down.

  “I’m Will, but my friends called me Sack,” the big guy added.

  “What do you prefer?”

  “Sack.”

  “Fine, Grocery, whatever. And you? Red. What do they call you?”

  The cool, almost absent blue eyes of the last man looked at me surrounded by his faint red lashes. His hair was shorn, but it was easy to make out that he was a natural ginger.

  “Assholes call me Red, humans call me Albie.”

  “All right Albie, I’ll cut back on the redhead jokes,” I promised. “I’m not going to go into why you’re here, but we do need to discuss how we can keep you alive.”

  “We’re alive?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes, Gabriel pulls you right before—never mind. Have you each been given your claustranima?”

  “That’s the weird scary knife,” Esther said, unsheathing hers.

  Her soul had a teal glow to it as it drifted around inside the diamond handle. Esther wasn’t long for Earth. There were intricate cuts spanning almost to the end of the hilt, unlike Schmitty’s that was only about halfway.

  “Been doing this for a while, have you?”

  She didn’t answer, just stood at attention.

  “Good.” I slapped my hands together. “First, how to spot a bantling.”

  * * * *

  Her Royal Holiness, Princess LaDressa, Daughter of Lucifer the IV

  “I wish to go out tonight,” I stated plainly as all of the Deumos looked at me as if I were a fool.

  “Daughter, you are not at full strength yet.”

  I waved my hand and sent my dear sweet mother flying into the wall. Her face paled as her eyes widened; an evil smirk crossed her lips.

  “I’m not going out to find a bantling. The Deumos can handle that. I have another purpose. Nemesio?”

  “Yes,” my overly eager helper answered.

  “The one who killed Damarion, does she hunt?” I asked plainly.

  “We have felt her presence and seen her a few times.”

  “Good. While Kanga hunts for our bantling you and I shall hunt for the murderer. Now, Masako,
prepare me.”

  Pivane scoffed in the corner as he rolled his eyes. Obviously he needed to be taught a lesson. So far he’d been compliant, but I was sure he was trying to figure out a way to sneak my brother a message. Glaring at him I worked on my ability to hold a person against their will without lifting my hand. At first I feared my focus wasn’t working, until I saw his face twitch and I could feel him straining against my power. Oh, how sweet the feeling of fear and anger were. They made me strong. It took him a minute to figure out it was I who had a hold to his pathetic self.

  “Is there something you wish to say?” I mocked my would-be Yahweh. As if this man could lead anything but the downfall of my kingdom.

  My kingdom. It was the first time I’d thought of Hell in such a way. I had only come to Earth to rescue my love Damarion, but as my powers increased I had begun to feel the right of ascension. Although I could only be in power via my son, if I were blessed to have one, still the idea had begun to matriculate into more than a passing thought.

  Could I rule with Damarion by my side as our progeny matured? Not unless I locate my dearest one, that is for certain.

  “Nothing?” I returned my focus to the pustule at hand.

  Dropping my hold on Pivane I walked to the kitchen where a plethora of sweetness adorned the counters.

  “This is?” I asked Nemesio as I reached for a round treat with a hole in the center.

  “A donut.”

  “Donut? Why is there a piece missing? Was it to check for toxins? A poison?” I growled, tossing Nemesio over the table.

  “There is nothing missing,” she assured me with her hands out in surrender as she cowered on the floor. “Humans cut a hole in the middle of most donuts and then sell the holes separately.”

  “Should I have a hole to stick in the center?” I asked as my rage tempered.

  “No, Your Holiness, the hole is for a bite-size treat at another time. I can procure some at a later date if you so desire.”

  Taking a bite of the softened bread-like substance made my mouth come alive from the various sensations flooding it. The majority of the treat was not necessarily sweet, but the top white covering tasted like sugar alone. Oh the sensations I had experienced since I’d come to the surface were unimaginable. They reminded me of my Damarion and his explorations of my body. True, he’d been of this realm. Maybe that is why he’d been able to evoke the reactions in my body that I remembered sharing with him.