by R. K. Ryals
"Lucas?" I asked as I focused on using my power to clean myself, to smooth my clothes, and to create shoes practical enough to wear in sand.
"Waiting outside," Marcas answered, his expression unreadable as he motioned to the front of the tent.
He moved away from me, and I followed. A yawn escaped, and I hid it with my hand. The rest had felt good, and I couldn't help but wish I had more time to sleep. As my power grew, I felt less need for human shortcomings—eating, sleeping, using the rest room, but there were times when a hot bath and a warm bed meant more than just getting clean or resting. It gave me a sense of belonging, a sense of relaxation, and a sense of normalcy. Lately, I was feeling more than a little un-ordinary.
"What I wouldn't do for a cup of coffee," I grumbled as I stumbled out of the tent. The air was a little cool, the sky still dark but lightening along the horizon. There was nothing but desert for as far as I could see with the exception of a small patch of brittle looking vegetation.
"Good morning, sunshine," Lucas greeted, his smile wide as he stood casually, sporting light jeans and an un-tucked white button up shirt. I growled.
"Bite me," I ground out. I'd never been a morning person.
"She's always been a brilliant specimen in the a.m.," Conor Reinhardt said smoothly from beside a Bedouin tent a few feet away from the main one.
I turned to him in surprise before throwing him the bird. He was joining us? Conor laughed and sauntered over.
"Watching you train seemed more amusing than sleeping."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Couldn't sleep, could you?"
Conor shrugged.
"Guilty."
I punched him playfully in the arm, and he grabbed me long enough to rub his fist into my hair. It felt good bantering with him, being as playful as we used to. It hit me how much like family Conor was to me. He and Monroe weren't just close friends of mine, they'd become the family I'd lost.
I gave him one final punch for good measure then turned to Marcas. He was standing patiently in the sand, his eyes dark as he watched Conor and me, and I moved toward him.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"She needs to learn to fly," Lucas interjected before Marcas had the chance to answer.
Marcas looked over my shoulder at the Angel.
"Flying isn't taught, Luke. It's discovered. You know that as well as I."
"Then what do you propose we teach her, Marc?"
The Demon gazed down into my face, and I saw the confidence in his eyes. He knew the kind of control I had over my power. The Angels may not have faith in my light, but Marcas had been in the fire pits with me. He had the ability to feel my strength. It was the reason why I refused to train without him.
"You need to learn about the Seal, Blainey."
A lesson then, rather than training? Surprisingly, Lucas didn't argue with him. Instead, he gave Marcas a knowing look before turning to head to a sand dune behind the tents. We all followed, taking seats on the ground. Marcas sat opposite me while Lucas sat behind and to the side of Marcas. Conor took the same position behind me.
"I've told you before that the Seal of Solomon is a ring once possessed by the great king whose wisdom was bestowed by God. It gave him the power to control Demons," Marcas said.
I nodded. This much I knew. Marcas took my hand in his, and I froze, my body growing warm as I fought not to blush. He opened my hand and laid a finger against my palm.
"God gave Solomon a wise and understanding heart. There had never been a man like Solomon before and there would never be another after him. And God gifted this king, not only with a ring that had the power to control Demons, but with the power to control the elements, with the power to bring together the world. It was a ring created to link Heaven with Earth."
With this said, Marcas began sketching a pattern into my palm, the soft touch making me shiver. It seemed a complicated design, and I quit trying to understand its shape as Marcas spoke.
"The Seal is forged of brass and iron and laid with four jewels surrounding the inscribed name of God. Each jewel is a gift from an Angel and represents the four elements: a Ruby for Fire, Turquoise for Earth, Amethyst for Air, and an Emerald for Water. No man can bring himself to look directly at the ring. No man can make out the inscription. And because no man has ever existed in the likeness of Solomon, no man can control the ring."
I looked up into Marcas' face, my eyes wide. No man?
"Then what am I supposed to do with it?"
Marcas' finger grew still in my palm, but he didn't drop my hand.
"You are part Angel, Blainey. The legends only say that no man can control the ring."
I was also part human.
"Legends?"
It was Conor who asked, but I looked between Marcas and Lucas, the same question burning bright in my eyes. Lucas nodded.
"The ring was forged only for Solomon, passed to him from God. Other than the four jewels gifted by selected Angels, the ring has never been seen by anyone other than the wise king. There is a myth that the ring was once possessed by a Demon who used it to rule Earth for a period of time, but I have never known this to be true. It is only a legend," Lucas explained.
Marcas closed my palm before placing my hand on my leg and letting go. I felt the absence of his warmth immediately.
"Demons are obsessed with finding the ring. If it can be used to rule the Earth, the elements, then they will forever seek it," Marcas said.
Only Solomon had seen the ring? Demons wanted it for its power.
"And the Swords of Solomon were given the privilege of guarding such an artifact?"
I knew my voice betrayed my doubt, but I didn't understand why a group of mere mortals would be given the job of guarding something with this kind of temptation. Marcas looked me in the eye.
"The Swords of Solomon date back to the king himself. They were a group of people, mainly men, who were trained by the king. They were his soldiers, his loyal guard. Their job was to protect their king and his belongings. When the king was no more, their job didn't end. Instead, Angels were sent to the group with a message from God proclaiming that their descendants would forever guard Solomon's artifacts."
I shook my head.
"But the ring . . . you said no man has ever laid eyes on it? If it is this powerful, wouldn't it be dangerous to the S.O.S.?"
Marcas nodded.
"I don't deny the danger. No man has laid eyes on it, and no man can look upon the ring or touch it directly. But there are men and women who have been blessed with the Sight. These are the people who move the ring."
The Sight?
"Like Maria?" I asked.
"With only one slight difference. Those who volunteer to move the ring are blinded. They sacrifice their physical sight in order to guard the ring."
"Their physical sight?"
I knew I sounded like a broken record, but the information was confusing, and I was being taught stuff in one sitting what the S.O.S., Demons, and Angels had been born or created knowing.
"Those who are blinded voluntarily still have their mystical sight. They are able to discern Angel from Demon, but are unable to look upon Earthly images."
Oh, oookay. That made sense. It sounded extreme, but it made sense.
"What is Sophia's role in this? How does she know the location of the ring?"
Lucas answered before Marcas got the chance.
"When you and Marcas stole the carpet from the S.O.S., God made the decision to send Sophia after you. For centuries, the S.O.S. has managed without much divine intervention. They have protected the ring by moving it frequently. Twice they have fought wars with Demons seeking the ring and won. They are trained to protect the artifacts with their lives. But you and Marcas . . . bound, you have the power of a Demon and an Angel."
Lucas said this as if it explained everything, and I looked at him in confusion. I just didn't understand. Why was it different now? Was it because we sought the ring? Was it because we had taken the
carpet from the S.O.S.? I knew we had easily managed what should have been difficult, but the carpet had been simple to steal mainly because the S.O.S. had trusted me, not Marcas. They had never considered an Angel looking for asylum would side with a Demon, and Marcas had a history of falling for Angels. We had surprised them. Simple as that.
"What makes us so different? Is it because we need the ring?"
Lucas looked from Marcas to me.
"Partly. There's a need there that we can't deny. If the ring can unbind the two of you, then we are willing to try. God has given us permission to use it for the first time since Solomon's reign. But you must remember one thing, Dayton. God knows all. He created all. Even Demons are the product of Heaven, stemming from Lucifer's fall. And the ring, while created to link Heaven and Earth, has nothing on you and Marcas. When Damon used your aunt's sect to bind the two of you by blood . . ."
Lucas stopped there, his words trailing, his head shaking. My skin began to crawl. I knew without him speaking what he was trying to say. Conor's hand came to rest on my shoulder, his voice rising over the four of us.
"By binding Marcas and Dayton, Damon created a living connection between Earth, Hell, and Heaven."
Lucas nodded. Conor swore.
"Jesus!"
Marcas and I weren't just looking for a ring that may purge me of Marcas' Demon blood, we had become the ring, an intricate link between three worlds instead of two. We were more than dangerous. While the ring was a link between Heaven and Earth, we were a link between Heaven and Hell as well. We were a link between three worlds, two of which should never be linked. Nausea overcame me.
"Did you know this?" I whispered to Marcas.
My eyes found his. He didn't nod, but he didn't need to.
"We have to sever our connection, Blainey. Heaven cannot be linked to Hell."
"And you want to sever it? You're a Demon, Marcas. Why aren't you using me? You could control the world without the ring."
"I have no desire to rule."
"You liar! You're a Demon, dammit! You aren't self-sacrificing. I know this. Why aren't you using me?"
My heart was pounding, my eyes locked on Marcas'. If Lucas and Conor wondered what was transpiring between us, they didn't ask, and they didn't interrupt.
"It is a new revelation for me as well. If I had known what we were, what we would become from the beginning, I may have been tempted."
I stared at him.
"When did you realize what we had become?"
"I knew for sure in Hell, Blainey. I had only suspected before then. But when I shoved my power into you . . . even bound servants cannot share their masters' power. I knew we could feed off each other's abilities. This isn't unusual. Demon servants live as long as their masters' desire; they are made stronger by their masters' power, but . . ."
"They can't share it," I finished. "Then Lilith is aware of what we are?"
Marcas' mother had seen him shove his power into me. She had witnessed me using it. She had looked shocked, appalled, and then excited. Fear ate away at my gut.
"Anyone could use us. Lucifer himself could use us not only to rule Earth, but to take Heaven."
I grabbed Marcas' hand, squeezing it for everything I was worth.
"Why aren't you using me? Alessandro accused you of not being able to deny the ring's temptation. We are more than that. You could be powerful. Why are you helping me? Why are you so willing to be unbound?"
He was a Demon. I didn't understand why he didn't take the power before him.
"Who are you doing this for?"
I asked it because I needed to know. I needed to know why. Marcas pulled his hand from mine and stood up. He looked down at Lucas, and they shared a thought I wasn't allowed to hear. And then Marcas walked away. He simply walked away.
I looked at Lucas.
"You should kill us. The ring has just become a moot point. Hell doesn't need the ring anymore. They need us."
Conor grabbed me from behind.
"But you need the ring, Red. It can still work. Unbound, you are simply you. No danger."
I glanced over my shoulder at Conor. His eyes were shadowed.
"But until then, Con? What happens if the Demons win? What happens if Marcas is unable to deny a need for power?"
But it wasn't Conor who answered me. No, it was Sophia, Marcas' ex-girlfriend, standing like an avenging god as the now risen morning sun made her white robes glow.
"Then I'll kill you."
Chapter 16
When cornered, the cobra is an incredibly aggressive reptile. He can raise up to one-third of his body off the ground, moving forward to attack while looking a full grown man in the eye.
~Bezaliel~
I should have stayed in the desert to train with Lucas, but the new information about the Seal, the revelation concerning the bond Marcas and I shared, and Sophia's threat had me more than a little shaken up. Concentrating was out of the question. So I did the most distracting thing I knew to do. I went after Marcas.
As soon as the sun touched the horizon, men and women began lifting the sides of the Bedouin tents, leaving the spaces open to the breezes outside without eliminating shade. Breakfast was served on tables inside one of the larger four tents while each member of the S.O.S began doing chores designated by their leader.
I wanted to get involved, anything to take my mind off the concerns now festering in my mind, but I was afraid I'd only be shunned. The covert glances I received as I moved past already marked me an outcast. So I stayed focused on the Demon. It wasn't hard to find him. The tent he was in was being closely guarded by Alessandro's men. He wasn't afforded a lot of privacy.
"You never answered my question," I said, using my mind rather than my mouth to speak. The guards outside the tent were within ear shot.
Marcas' back was to me, and he didn't turn around as he lifted the cot he'd slept on, only to fold the legs in before stacking it on a pile of other beds already put away. Part of the camp was packing up to travel with us while still others would remain. I'd heard snatches of conversation while tracking down the Demon, and I had deduced that the S.O.S. used the desert regularly for covert meetings. A group of nomads always stayed behind.
"Who are you doing this for?" I tried again.
Marcas paused a moment before pulling his black tee over his head and throwing it aside. There were men gathering outside to help load two Ford trucks and it appeared Marcas planned to be involved. He wasn't the type to remain idle.
"You should be training, Blainey."
I ignored him. His tendency toward vagueness was irritating.
"You should be training me, Craig. But you know as well I, that there isn't much training left for me to do."
Marcas kept his back to me, and I stared at the large Cobra tattoo etched across the muscled planes, stretching eerily from his waist to just below his neck. The snake was standing, poised to strike. It was all black except for the eyes. The eyes were red.
I moved forward without thinking, my hand reaching out to touch the fangs on the tattoo, and Marcas froze as my finger traced the intricate design. The snake looked so lifelike, it was terrifying. I let my hand fall.
"Why the cobra?" I asked.
It seemed a safe enough question, and it gave him an excuse not to answer my other inquiry. I could deal with that for now. For a moment, it seemed he wouldn't answer, but then he stood up straight, his body still.
"I spent many years in Egypt during the New Kingdom, mainly as a worker on the tombs in the Valley of the Kings."
I waited for him to say more, to explain the snake, but he didn't. I tried a different tactic.
"Why a worker? Couldn't you have been anything you wanted to be? A pharaoh even?"
Marcas turned to me, his eyes meeting mine, and I knew by the look he gave me that this was the time period he had lost Sophia and had become an outcast of his own kind.
"Even Demons need to exorcise their own demons, Blainey."
If he thought he
was making a joke, I wasn't amused.
"The work distracted you," I said. It wasn't a question.
"It gave me a purpose."
"And the cobra?"
A corner of Marcas' mouth lifted, and I knew he was fighting a smile. I wasn't going to let him avoid the question. And I knew, by the glossiness that overtook his gaze, his memories ran old and deep.
"I was a worker in the village of Set Maat. The ancient Egyptians were religious people devoted to their gods. The workers were no different. They had a patron deity known as Meretseger, the cobra-goddess."
His words faded as he looked to the trucks beyond the tent.
"Go, Blainey. We leave tonight. It's not safe to wait now. Lilith draws near, and she's got Lucifer on her side."
I watched him as he moved around me, stopping only long enough to place a hand against my cheek. The touch was brief, and then he was gone, his shirtless figure joining the men at the trucks. No one seemed to want his help, but he gave it anyway, and they didn't argue. If he worked among them, they could guard him while still being productive.
I turned to leave and found Maria, loosely clothed in blue robes, watching me from the tent's edge. How long had she been standing there?
"Egypt made a large impression on the Demon," the old woman said suddenly, and I stood waiting. She wasn't the type of person who made a comment without a purpose behind it. And if anyone could tell me about the hybrid Demon beyond the tent, she could.
Maria and Marcas had been a couple once when she'd been young. Maria had been an Earthly pursuit of the Demon. And, although I could be naive at times, even I knew what that probably entailed. I tried imagining her as a young woman of nineteen. Even as stooped and weary as she appeared now, I knew she had been beautiful.
"The workers of Egypt were strong people who complained little. They were loyal to their pharaohs and to their gods. As blasphemous as their religion seems to us now, their loyalty can be admired. The Demon fit in well. Marcas developed quite a relationship with the people and even worked his way up in rank. He led many men. Many even believed he was a male concubine of their patron deity."