by Lisa De Palo
“I understand, Rezaal.”
Rezaal looked deep into the flames of the fire and began to murmur a speech only uttered in the depths of hell.
“Bnbo se’al zegmeg-adto”.
His arms began to vibrate and his eyes turned to black as he summoned up his power. He needed his child and wanted it now.
Ardat stepped back hesitantly. She knew the words he was uttering and she feared the speech. The demon tongue was for his unborn child increasing its power and forcing it to grow faster.
19
IMPACT
Layla’s ribs pressed outward and she gasped for a breath that wouldn’t come.
“Stop- the- bike,” she tried yelling but the words came out halted.
Jeremiah was tearing down the road, the wind whistled through Layla’s ears as her stomach felt like it was being twisted into knots. She clenched onto Jeremiah’s leather jacket until her knuckles went white and pounded on his back, desperate to get off the bike.
“What is it?” he yelled over his shoulder.
A pain like a molten knife stabbing through her side tore through Layla and her vision tunneled. She felt her body move back and she teetered on consciousness. The bike screamed to a stop and she barely felt herself being jolted forward by the momentum.
She hit the dirt as she rolled off and clasped at her stomach before Jeremiah was with her, rolling her onto her side.
“Layla!?… Layla!?…” he kept yelling but the pain was excruciating, forcing her to almost black-out.
A cold breeze caressed her belly. Jeremiah had lifted her top and was studying her stomach, her eyes rolled back, her head spun and wasn’t able to tell if it was a dream or reality anymore. He had put his hands on top her skin and he was feeling her body.
“It- hurts-” she gasped.
Her stomach burned like fire ants were eating her alive. Her insides felt like they were being scraped down with dull knives, and she felt a sudden pressure pressing down on her bones with such force she felt her ribs would crack.
“Make it- stop- Jere-”
He dropped her top and looked at her with horrified eyes and a mouth open wide. He shook his head in disbelief and his lip twitched before he quickly stepped down to her side. She could hear his shallow breathing and his heart sped up. He placed his hands over her stomach and watched as her belly glowed orange with a dark silhouette moving about within.
The touch was soothing and he eased her pain. She could feel the force of her skin stretching, but it didn’t hurt anymore, and finally, she could breathe again.
“What is it?” she asked, trying to control her breaths.
Jeremiah cast his view heavenward And Layla put her hand on his arm nervously.
“Tell me,” she said.
His eyes looked down at her with a deepened sense of sadness and pity while his lips began to part.
“You… You’re pregnant.”
The words didn’t seem real. She looked at him and had no idea what to say. How?… When?… Who?…
“But… I died,” she finally said.
Layla swallowed hard, it got stuck in her throat as she remembered Rezaal. She quickly looked up at Jeremiah, he was looking off in the distance and hadn’t noticed her realization. How could she tell him? It would drive him even further away and she couldn’t lose him too.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, turning back to her.
She dropped her head and grasped hold of her tummy, cradling the life within her. She rubbed her eyes as tears began to well.
“I- I’m sorry…” she said not knowing what else to say.
“For what?” Jeremiah asked, reaching his hand out to touch her belly. “You have a life in you. It’s beautiful.”
She felt her cheeks glow in warmth before they faded back and her short-lived smile waned. What if it was demonic? She shook the thought away.
“It will be good,” she said to herself.
Jeremiah smiled at her.
“Of course it will be,” he said.
He helped her sit back up and Layla struggled back onto the bike with him. He drove easier with her now, took the corners with ease and picked roads that were smoother. She watched the back of his head as they sped away and she wondered what he was thinking.
If he knew what the baby was… what would he do?
* * *
Layla’s eyes were slow to focus as her sight came in from long distance. Slowly, she grew conscious of her surroundings and wished she could lay still and pretend she wasn’t hurting.
She slumped back down to the cold tar of the road and felt the weight of hands on her shoulders. They were trying to sit her upright. Slowly she turned her head and met Jeremiah’s gaze. She tried to talk and felt the roughness of chipped teeth. She moved her tongue around in her mouth and in her daze she could taste the metallic flavor of her own blood.
She tried to turn her head as much as her muscles would allow and saw thousands of glistening shards of glass shattered across the road. They led across the road like a trail of fallen stars to a black SUV, overturned on its roof, and Jeremiah’s bike lay beaten up next to it.
“Wha-” She tried to talk when pain shot from her jaw up into her skull.
“Shh, Layla, be still,” he said but it warped in and out, sounding like a dream.
She stuck her nose up in the air as the blood seeped from his cuts. Jeremiah remembered her bloodlust and shook his head at how weak vampires were when it came to blood. He pulled broken glass from his chest and she watched him heal himself. He looked at her, his eyes wary of her hunger. He watched her moves like a hawk and he made a quick move to stand and help her.
“Something isn’t right,” he said. “You should have healed by now.”
He looked down at her blood smeared body and placed his hands on her. She felt a power surge through his fingers and it warmed her deep into her chest. The sound of bones re-knitting etched in her ears and she gasped when she remembered her baby.
“It’s is fine Layla,” he said as if he had read her mind. “It probably used your powers to heal itself first.”
“She heard the door of the SUV scrape open.
“We don’t have time,” Jeremiah grunted. “We have to go.”
He hauled her back onto the bike and kicked it to start. But nothing happened. She saw the plugs hanging out the side and heard the SUV’s metal scraping as someone tried to squeeze out.
“We need to go,” she screamed seeing a hand forcing the door open.
He fumbled with the plugs, trying to force them back to fit.
“It’s Anastasia!” she squealed as Jeremiah turned to see the vampire crawling out of the car.
She rolled her body out just as Jeremiah kicked the bike into a roaring start.
“Let’s go,” Jeremiah cried as the wheels screeched against the road and the bike span for grip.
Smoke filled the air before the tire bit into the asphalt and they took off.
20
ADAMANT
The doors of O’Leary’s smashed open and Shannon gasped as both angel and vampire limped inside. Pieces of their bloodied clothing had been ripped and twisted into tourniquets, raw scrapes ran down their arms, and tiny shards of glass glistened in open wounds.
“Shit…” she whispered to herself and with a wave of her arm she got someone else serving drinks for her.
She jumped over the bar to usher them downstairs into the musty cellar.
“What in the name of the Holy Mother are you two doing?” She hissed. “You’ll be the death of me, and what’s this? you don’t even need bandages!”
Layla looked at Jeremiah and a smirk slowly spread across their faces.
“We couldn’t exactly walk in here bloodied and beaten without a good story, could we?” Jeremiah said.
“Aye,” Shannon nodded. “What happened?”
She could see the terror on Layla’s face when she exhaled deeply. She was hesitant to answer.
“What is it lovey?” S
hannon asked. “What happened?”
“Anastasia ran us off the road,” Layla said quickly. “And she’s probably on her way here now.”
Shannon saw Layla’s lip quiver. The poor thing wouldn’t be able to take much more. Not at the rate she was going.
“We will be ready for them, dear,” she said and took Layla into her arms. “Don’t you worry. They won’t know you’re here.”
Shannon cast her eyes over to Jeremiah.
“I take it the meeting with Rafael didn’t go well?”
He shook his head, not showing her any eye contact and folded his arms in front of him. He started to pace the tiny room.
“They’re our family, lad,” Shannon said. “They can’t just abandon us.”
Shannon was waiting for an answer, a reaction, anything, but Jeremiah didn’t say a word, he didn’t even give her a look.
“They didn’t abandon us, did they? You abandoned them…”
“What was I supposed to do?” he said, turning to face her and shrugging his arms up high to sides. “They want to kill her.”
They both turned when they saw Laya’s head jolt up looking at Jeremiah sternly.
“You did that… for me?” she asked.
He dropped his arms and stood there looking at his feet like a child having a tantrum. He could barely look at her, let alone admit his feelings.
“Why would you do that?” she asked.
Shannon could understand her frustration and query. A man giving up everything for a woman was a lot of pressure and expectation. Judging by Jeremiah’s face, however, he expected her to be flattered and grateful.
Jeremiah’s vein almost popped out of his neck when he wrenched his head sideways looking at Layla as if she was an unappreciative, spoiled brat.
“Are you serious?” he almost yelled.
Layla squeezed her eyes tightly and rubbed her hands over her face.
“I’m sorry, Jere. I’m just so hungry… I need to feed.”
“I can help with that, lovely,” Shannon said, seeing a moment to get away from the tension. “I’ll be right back.”
She grabbed a few fresh bags and brought them back to Layla.
“Here darling, I hope this will tire you over till your next feed,” said Shannon.
Layla looked up to her offering half a smile.
“I still can’t get used to my meals coming in bags,” Layla murmured.
“Where do you get these?” Jeremiah asked sternly.
“I’ve had my fair share of stray vampires come in from time to time,” she said knowingly. “Seeking fresh blood from people around the St. Lucy’s area and what not. They assume they can fly under the radar, being so close to the docks and all, but I see them for what they truly are. Being nephilim has its perks, you know.
I have a friend… he’s a nurse and sells me the blood under the table. I use them to keep the peace. I give them to the stray vampires and warn them that if they take a life or come back, then I’ll inform Dimitry. It’s worked well enough over the years.”
The room turned quiet and all that Shannon could hear was the gulps of the thick blood Layla drank. She was only halfway through the first bag when a scream came from up above them.
“Wait here!” Shannon ordered, and she bolted back upstairs.
She nearly screamed when she saw Anastasia’s face buried in a customer’s jugular.
“Stop,” she screamed.
Anastasia opened her eyes showing Shannon the deep red veins that pulsed as she drank. Slowly, she removed her fangs from the man’s neck and let the lifeless body drop to the bar’s floor.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” Shannon said with gritted teeth.
All Shannon could think about was the war that would break out if mortals discovered the downworlders. That wouldn’t take long with Anastasia doing this kind of thing.
“I thought we had a deal,” Anastasia said, slowly walking up to Shannon. “I thought you said you would let us know if you had seen the girl…,”
“I haven’t seen her,” Shannon murmured but she couldn’t hide her nerves.
Anastasia’s lip curved on one side as she dropped her head and slowly circled around her.
“Ahh, Shannon… my dear, Shannon… you wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”
Shannon turned and shook her head at Anastasia. But the vampire grabbed Shannon’s long locks and ripped her head.
“You stupid bitch, I can hear your heart pounding away like a drum.”
Shannon knew the fangs were coming and threw her hand upward and a bright ray of sunlight shone from her fingers. The light bit into Anastasia’s skin and Shannon could smell the burning flesh before the vampire dropped to the floor and slithered under one of the tables.
“Leave this place and don’t return,” Shannon bellowed. “Or you will be as good as dust!”
She put her hand down and watched Anastasia find her feet while baring her fangs.
“You will be sorry you did that, Shannon,” she hissed and disappeared out the front door.
The place was empty and Shannon’s face grew long knowing this wasn’t the end of the violence. She walked around her joint with her head hung and began tidying up the mess. Layla and Jeremiah slowly tiptoed up the stairs, looking over their shoulders.
“She’s gone,” Shannon said. “For now…”
21
LANGUISH
Layla felt awkward with Shannon and Jeremiah continually staring at each other as if they couldn’t talk in front of Layla. She decided to slip out of O’Leary’s to let Shannon and Jeremiah talk. She wandered through the chill night air and came to her bench without even thinking about it. She sat down and stared across the river, remembering Marco and the attack. She slumped deeper down and pulled her hoodie over her face, shielding herself from the world.
She had a bitter, oaky bourbon in her hand, the glass was freezing against her palm and she drank in an effort to calm herself. But the memories of his face replayed in her mind over and over again. She felt a sudden desire, a craving to go back to the coven. She knew it was insane, but the feelings she first had for him re-emerged with such intensity that it began to take her breath away. A strange echo, a delayed whisper played over and over in her mind, almost like a calling, a desire, lust.
Is he summoning me? Am I going crazy?
She would have given up everything for him to be sitting right there with her, smiling at her with those soft, full lips, and those kind eyes. But, of course, he wasn’t.
Her patience was wearing thin, and frustration dominated her. She sat up in the seat, rested her face on the palm of her hand and peered into the gloomy world, wondering if he was even still alive. Her eyes scrunched together when she threw down the rest of her bourbon and slammed the glass down on the bench.
Marco needed her. At least that is what she told herself. She had had enough of the crap that was happening all around her, she realized the importance of someone else’ being happy- that became more precious than gold to her.
She ran to the water’s edge and not a single thought of Jeremiah had crossed her mind. All she could think about was Marco. She needed to save him.
Standing on the edge of the docks, Layla pulled her hood down and looked outward over a carpet of mist that lingered on top of the black, icy water. She stood hunched over and shielded her face from the raw, moist winds, when a ghostly raven lingered about, speaking his short piece through the fog.
It was obvious that the chances of seeing Marco were slim. He was most likely killed for his disloyalty, but nevertheless, she was determined. She wasn’t the same person as she had been yesterday, nothing felt the same to her anymore. She had grown stronger and Layla wasn’t going to wait around for things to fall in her lap any longer.
Butterflies suddenly fluttered in her stomach and the strangest feeling washed over her. She couldn’t explain it, but something told her Marco was still alive. Entranced in hope and desire she hadn’t realized time slippin
g away.
Someone grabbed her arm. Layla felt her stomach jump to her throat in fright as she pulled back and quickly turned around. Her damp, silver hair swung out on both sides of her face and sent a mist into the air. She forced the palm of her hand heavily into the stranger’s chest before she even had a glimpse of his face. The body crashed hard to the ground when she saw the leather jacket.
“What are you doing?” Jeremiah yelled.
Layla gasped and ran to help him up.
“What the hell are you doing sneaking up behind me?” she said back as Jeremiah found his feet and brushed himself off.
“Did you even think about the sunrise?” he grunted and pointed toward the horizon.
Layla looked over the river and gritted her teeth. She felt his judgment by the look on his long face and his piercing, scrunched up eyes.
She felt furious and couldn’t shake her rage as she stood watching the other side. She shook her head at her own stupidity but realized Jeremiah was right. She had no time to play with at this hour.
Her eyes grew heavy, it felt like weeks since she had a proper sleep. Yet the last thing she could count on was her patience, and now she had to wait another day for sundown before there was any chance of a reconciliation with Marco. Her eyes were glued to the forbidden side as Jeremiah guided her arm away from the edge.
“Come on,” he said calmly. “We are going to have to get you to Shannon’s now, it’s dangerous out here and there’s no time to go anywhere else.”
The tone in his voice revealed his hurt and perhaps betrayal. Layla looked up at him and saw that his gaze was fixated on walking ahead. She knew the pain she put on him wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t lie to herself, Marco was important to her. She kept walking and wondered what she should say to make him feel better if anything at all.
“I’m sorry, Jere.” She tried. “You have to understand that he was always there for me too, and if there is one thing I have learned from you, it’s to never give up on a friend.”