by D. R. Rosier
I felt the temptation to take her again, wake her with power and share pleasure until she had been drained utterly. Mine completely, for now, and forever. I also felt the disgust at the idea, the human soul in my crying out against a crime so terrible.
As usual, my human half won.
I touched her with my necromantic power. Necromancy is often compared to death, but really, necromancy is life. I could give it, and I could take it. I could call forth rot and decomposition, or I could stay its hand. My other side fed from her life, from her soul, but my necromancy could help, even extend her life despite my actions tonight. My power would dissipate over time, but she would age much slower for about five years, extending her life and her beauty for that time. Nothing that would stand out to her fellow humans, they would just believe she had aged gracefully. But doing this for her was enough that it assuaged my regret, my guilt.
I like one night stands, I like my life the way it is, but sometimes, I wish it wasn’t a necessity. I could never sleep with April again no matter how much I might want to. She would recover from one, maybe two times, but sleeping with her again would be dangerous, it would endanger not only her life, but her soul, no matter how long I waited between feedings.
I got dressed, kissed her sleeping lips, and made my way out the door. People would fear me if they knew I was part necromancer, maybe even try to kill me. But my other half that takes sustenance from mortal souls? The half of me that is immune to fire and able to read people’s desire to better know how to corrupt them? The half able to detect lies, and hide what powers I do have?
That is my biggest secret, what makes me an abomination. My demon half. Thanks dad, you asshole.
Chapter 2 – Anise
“Anise Golde to nurse station two please.”
I heard the announcement and sighed. I pulled my power back. Water, earth and spirit retreated from the human in bed. I was a sorceress, but healing was my passion. Unfortunately, I could only tweak things here and there. I had to be careful, nothing could give me away. Even so, no death’s on this ward for the two months I had been here, everyone recovered, albeit slowly to make it look like normal recovery.
Miracles were frowned on, other supernaturals would… object. All the races had councils, and enforcers, the one rule was hide. Something too blatant cannot be hidden so easily. So I do what I can.
I frowned knowing I would have to move on soon. Right now it was a statistical anomaly. It happens sometimes. But if I continued to heal the people in this hospital under my care, well it would become a statistical impossibility. Even the humans who are unable to see the reality of the paranormal in the world very easily would cotton on to that, and investigate.
New city, new hospital, new name. It got old doing that three or four times a year, but I couldn’t stop. Healing was my passion, it had been for a very long time.
At least witches aren’t burned at the stake any longer…
I walked out and to the nurses desk.
“Pam? What can I do for you?”
I smiled when she asked for the shift report and filled her in on all the patients and any changes over the last twelve hours.
Pam nodded when I finished, “Get out of here and enjoy your time off.”
I was tempted to visit other floors and do some healing there, but squashed the impulse. I couldn’t afford to get caught again. I used to be able to do it, but security had tightened in hospitals so much in the last fifty or so years, and people were suspicious nowadays. I had to take what I could get, but the fact that I could clear out the hospital in a handful of hours was… frustrating at times.
“Thanks Pam, maybe I’ll go out, it’s Friday night.”
She shook her head, “I don’t know where you get the energy. You look like you just came on shift, not going off.”
I blushed and thanked her. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I didn’t sleep, ever. I could get tired using my magic, or with heavy physical exertion, but even then it only took a little relaxation or meditation to regain my strength. I wasn’t strictly human, even for a sorceress. The small amount of healing I could get away with at the hospital barely even registered in my power levels.
I took the stairs down and left the hospital, my apartment just a few blocks away. Being Seattle it was raining, it felt good as I walked down the street. When I got home I immediately stripped and jumped in the shower. I was refreshed as I got out, using simple raw elemental magic I dried my body and hair as I brushed it out.
Looking in the mirror I saw a woman in her mid twenties, blue eyes, wavy golden blonde hair down to her waist. I was short, just five foot one, but curvy. To be fair, that was on the high side of average for a woman when I was born. My breasts were large for my frame at a C cup, and my waist thin before flaring out to my hips. I brushed out my hair, lost in thought. Frustrated sometimes with the life I led. I wanted to do more, but what?
I already assisted with the supernatural, at those times I could heal as fast and thoroughly as I wished. Yet, even in that group I needed to show care. Sorcerers are not supposed to be immortal. They age and die, much like a normal human if at about half the pace. Only Angels, Demons, Vampires and Fae are supposed to be immortal. Shifters, sorcerers, witches, warlocks and necromancers were all longer lived, but mortal.
The first two groups are rarely seen on the mortal plane, and I am obviously not from the latter two immortal races. Demons do possess mortals more regularly, but here in the flesh? Extremely rare.
So what am I? Nephilim. Half angel, half human sorceress. It is not something I can generally share, even with other supernaturals. I am used to hiding who I am, after all, I have done so for centuries uncounted. Hiding does worry me a little, as time went on it was becoming harder and harder to hide. Especially with humans and their technology.
I walked out to the kitchen and put some water on, a tea sounded nice. I thought maybe I would read tonight, and glanced over at my kindle. I was still amazed with the device, and how far humanity had come in the last hundred years. I blew out a breath; I was too full of energy.
I looked at the portrait in the hall, and felt a stab of guilt. Happiness, sacrifice, despair, loneliness. The endless cycle of my life that started so long ago. The portrait was painted in eighteen ninety two. I had been named Hope then, and along with me was my husband Gerald, and my children. I knew I should take it down, put it away from me. But I haven’t been able to do it yet.
Happiness, having a husband, family, children. The despair of course was when my husband noticed I was not aging, which for a long lived supernatural usually took fifteen to twenty years. Then the inevitable confrontation always happened. The fear and horror of what I am. The anger that I did not tell them I was Nephilim.
But how could I? They never understood, not one.
Sacrifice and despair, leaving my family, my children. It was this stage I was still in now, over a hundred years. It seemed to go on longer each time, my soul taking longer to recover, healing others the only thing that makes life worth living. That, and keeping track of my family lines, which made it both better and worse.
It was a lonely life at times, and I felt the guilt because I knew the cycle would start anew when the loneliness outgrew the loss of it, and I started courting and sleeping with men again. Until I met the impossible, another that could take my heart. My emotions didn’t believe it could happen, how could I possibly love again after the loss of Gerald, but my experience knew it would happen. I shook off the feeling and went into the bedroom to get dressed.
I put on a skirt and blouse, high heels, and left my apartment after draining the cup of tea. Dancing sounded good to me; I needed to bleed off my excess energy, not to mention shake off this mood I was in.
There was a club close by owned by vampires, ironically they did not hunt there at all, it wasn’t like in the books or movies of today. Their place of business was like their home, you just didn’t hunt in your own backyard. It was a good place to meet with the othe
r supernaturals. I still couldn’t relax completely, but at least I didn’t have to hide I was a sorceress in that crowd.
It was still kind of early when I got there, so I ordered a tequila sunrise and waited for the place to fill up. I was taking a sip of my drink when someone slid onto the stool next to me.
I smiled when I saw who it was, “Hey Ginnie, how’s it going?”
Virginia was young witch, barely a quarter of a century old. She had pale skin, even fairer than mine, long red hair and green eyes. She had a small smattering of freckles on her nose and a big smile on her face. She leaned into me and kissed my cheek. She was the first person I befriended when I moved here, and she had a generous and happy soul.
Ginnie replied, “Great, glad the weekend is here. You seen Mar around?”
Marsha was an older witch, part of the local supernatural council. She was important, the witches headed the council here in Seattle. She was also one of the people teaching Ginnie her craft. I shook my head.
“I haven’t no, not for a few weeks, everything okay?”
She shrugged, “I hope so,” to the bartender, “White Russian please.”
We chatted for a while catching up while we sipped our drinks. The place started filling up by the time the drinks were done, and the music was turned up a bit louder, so we abandoned the bar and started dancing.
Over the next hour or so I slowly became aware the atmosphere tensing up. I wished I had paid more attention to the local politics because I had no idea what was going on.
The council held the city, there was usually one in any city that hosted supernatural beings. Usually the strongest would lead the council, in the case of Seattle, it was currently a witch, Marsha. I only knew her because I had to get her approval to move here, as a sorceress. There was usually a scramble for power when the head of the council retired, or passed, but outright takeovers were rare.
I couldn’t really think of anything else it could be, despite the absurdity of holding a challenge in a club, the truth was most of the magical community were here. It’s where we got together in Seattle. There aren’t a lot of us out there. Usually between one to five hundred per city, with the exception maybe of the older European cities. There were thousands of us in London, Berlin, Rome, and Paris.
Seattle had little more than a hundred.
Still, something was going on. The vampires seemed to be sending the humans away with compulsion, in a surprisingly short time they were cleared out. I stopped dancing and touched Ginnie’s arm. She took in my expression and looked around, and started looking worried. I took her hand and we walked over to one of the walls, not really even thinking about it. Being surrounded was a bad idea as a rule in a tense situation, and I hardly needed to think about where to go to find myself in a better position. At my age when you’ve done everything countless times, there was no thought for tactics, it was simply muscle memory on a grander scale.
The music shut off as a man walked in holding a staff with glyphs running up and down the wood. Sorcerer’s used power from the elements to build spells, a staff was a shortcut, simply imbue power into the staff and it would do the work for you. It was powerful, to an extent, the problem of course is keeping a hold of it.
Behind him was another sorcerer, and a vampire, holding Marsha between them. Marsha’s eyes looked glazed, and it was obvious she had been beaten. I narrowed my eyes. This was not how things should be done. Even takeovers were usually done honorably, through challenge and combat. I know to humans that would sound hopelessly naïve, but backstabbing and poisoning leads to anarchy in such a small tightly knit community. Plus, most supernaturals wanted the most powerful in charge, after all it was the council’s job to protect from outside threats. No one would want a weasel in such a position.
The Sorcerer said arrogantly, “You may call me Brandon, I am the new high councilor. I have beaten Marsha in the challenge.”
He then displayed his power. A power display for a sorcerer involves forming a symbol, with all the elements they have access to. How strong it is, and how clean and stable, is how their power is determined. Sorcerers usually do this between themselves only, to establish a hierarchy within their group. I guessed he was doing it now to show his power as an intimidation, he must have known how shady this looked after all.
His power was strong, and clean. It looked like he had mastered Air, Fire and Water. There was no evidence of Earth, or Spirit in his display, but then a sorcerer with all five was very rare. He did however look strained, as he struggled to maintain it for a few moments.
Marsha said woodenly, “He made me submit.”
It was an interesting way to say it. Not, he won the challenge, but he made me submit. The reason for this was obvious, the witches and vampires, not to mention me, would still recognize the former if it was a lie, even with her under compulsion. It really wasn’t any of my business, still, I waited for someone to object, challenge his assertion. I did not expect it to be Ginnie.
“This is a sham, she was obviously tortured and beaten, and even now under compulsion. Was she even conscious for this one on one challenge you claim happened?”
Ginnie was a strong young witch, but still very young and inexperienced. I sunk deeper into myself, observing everything in the room, and nothing.
Brandon sneered and barked, “Are you calling me a liar, would you challenge me?”
Ginnie’s face reddened and she screamed back, “If she truly submitted you wouldn’t need to have her under compulsion, and she wouldn’t look like she had been tortured for the last two weeks either. I can’t challenge you, but I’d like to know why this wasn’t done before witnesses as a challenge should.”
Brandon sent a spell of air that tangled around Ginnie. She was basically helpless. I looked around expecting someone else to object, but the witches looked cowed. The vampires looked either conflicted, or smug. The other sorcerers looked triumphant. There were no necromancers or Warlocks in Seattle, so none were present. I had to restrain a look of contempt. Power struggles were important, but not if it endangered the community as a whole. I wondered if this was a new thing. When had my fellow sorcerers decided political power trumped real power and tradition?
I was frozen, I didn’t really want to challenge, that would make me the head councilor, which, I had absolutely no interest in. Especially since I was leaving soon. Even if I stopped healing I couldn’t spend more than another fifteen years here, people would notice I wasn’t aging, at all. But I didn’t like the way he had Ginnie trussed up in an air spell.
Nothing good could come of me intervening. I was half angel, and I didn’t live for millennia because that made me weak. But really, this was none of my business no matter how much I cared about Ginnie. I have watched empires crumble, what import could one girl have to me.
Even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself.
Brandon’s face cleared, and changed to satisfaction as no one else spoke up. Who was I to fight for their freedom from a snake if they wouldn’t fight themselves? I waited until he finally decided to close the drama. He had his men release Marsha and she collapsed on the floor.
Brandon said, “Very well, we shall have a full council in two days to discuss the changes I will bring and implement new laws.”
Then he turned to go, and Ginnie started to float across the room, following him to the door. I looked around and no one would speak, why wouldn’t they speak?
“STOP!”
I looked around for the voice, then realized it was mine.
He turned and looked at me, seeing my youth his visage became contemptuous.
Brandon said impatiently, “What now.”
I said calmly, “Release Ginnie, she is just a child.”
He replied caustically, “No, I need to teach her a lesson first.”
I had a pretty good idea what that meant, and that just wasn’t going to happen.
I displayed my sorceress sigil, my face bored, showing no effort at all. I was hoping to do
this without a fight, and it should work. Yet, this man had thrown out many of our beliefs. The fire, water, earth, air and spirit danced in harmony, glowing strongly. The whole room froze, like a rabbit under the gaze of a predator. I was dangerous, but I still hated it. I was a healer by choice, but it’s hard to live for so long without becoming very proficient at everything.
I said clearly, “I do not wish to challenge your position, I do not wish to rule, but you will give over Ginnie.”
Ginnie looked at me, then my construct her eyes wide. Fear and hope warred there in her eyes.
Brandon chuckled, “Very well, you shall learn my true power sorceress.”
Then he started a spell to open a doorway. To hell.
I gasped in shock, “Demons? Are you daft? Only a warlock may safely control them. Doing this is forbidden!”
My voice grew harder, “Of course this explains much. Why a challenge that so obviously wasn’t one is met with fear from the community. So are you its servant now?”
Brandon didn’t answer, all his effort going into the spell. I sent a ball of air at him, to disrupt what he was doing, but cursed myself for a fool. I should have disrupted his spell immediately. So much for not being surprised, but what the idiot was doing was so shocking even I had never seen it before. I hadn’t acted soon enough. I frowned as a demon walked through the gate and the gate winked out of existence…
He was tall, and humanoid. His skin had a reddish tinge, and he had a cruel look in his eyes. He was transmitting fear, some stood tall like I was, fighting it off, some looked completely cowed.
He spoke in a raspy voice, “Why have you summoned me.”
The look on Brandon’s face was subservient, well, one question answered.
“I was bringing this girl for you to play with, in order to teach her a lesson, when that sorceress interfered. She is too strong for me.”