by Bette Maybee
“Besa Soobedda,” she whispered.
Eli pulled her close, pressing his lips to her temple.
“Will you tell me what it means, Eli?”
Eli hesitated. Julie felt a tear—his tear—slip down her cheek.
“It means,” he whispered, “the love between a man ... and his wife.”
Julie’s eyes shot open as the sickening feeling of dread, like butterfly wings tickling the back of her throat, washed over her. Now she understood Eli’s response to Liana’s words. It was the one thing that could never be, and they both knew it.
Chapter Ten
Sandals were not a good idea. Of course, she hadn’t planned on spending more than a few hours in the dry, desert heat of Death Valley, and that time would be spent in the cool comfort of the white Lincoln that picked her up just outside of Las Vegas. The driver, a balding, grandfatherly curmudgeon, complete with snap-on sunglasses and suspenders, seemed safe enough. Even said she reminded him of his youngest granddaughter.
The old man toodled along at a cool forty miles an hour, recounting stories of his youth as the girl sat silently staring out the window. Her mind was on other things. When he slid his hand across the seat and grabbed her inner thigh, she thought of that granddaughter and got a feeling of righteous satisfaction as she wrenched his thumb back, snapping it at the base. Of course, the car careened out of control as the screaming man clutched his hand to his chest.
“You little bitch!” the old man slammed on the brakes and the car skidded sideways on the shoulder of the road, raising a whirlwind of dust. “Get out!”
The girl already had the door open before the car stopped.
“My pleasure.” She grabbed her bag and turned to him before slamming the door. “You’re lucky it was just your thumb, old man. I could have broken your neck.” The man floored it, screaming profanities as a new cloud of dust and desert rocks pelted her.
She trotted clear of the cloud and looked down at her stinging legs. Small, red welts spotted the surface of her bronzed skin. Blood oozed. She reached down and touched a glistening spot, then brought it to her tongue. Disgusting, but she couldn’t help herself.
The girl looked around. Nothing but rocks and dirt. Off in the distance, tufts of pale green poked out behind some larger boulders. She trotted over to the closest one, and as she got closer, she knew she found what she’d been hoping for. The fat, green spikes of the Aloe plant would provide her with the healing juice she would need to take care of the pesky wounds. They would also provide her with needed moisture for her time in the desert. She plucked a leaf. Aloe oozed from the broken end. She carefully swabbed all the spots she could, then plucked a few spikes to take along. Just in case.
Two hours later, two hours without a single car in sight, she squatted behind a boulder a good hundred yards off the main road. The sun was just setting. That’s when the first scorpion scuttled across her exposed, burnt toes. She screamed and shot upright, expecting pee to run down her leg. But there wasn’t any. She was already feeling the effects of dehydration, and her body sucked up all the moisture it could, reabsorbing the excess water. This was not good. At least she had the cooling darkness of night on her side. It would get chilly, but not cold enough to kill her. She could spend one night out there. Alone. In the dark. Of course she didn’t plan on sleeping. Sleeping meant one thing. Nightmares. There was no way she was going to chance that. She’d had enough nightmares to last a lifetime. Instead, she climbed up on the boulder, retrieved one of the Aloe leaves, split it down the middle, then pulled the length of it across her bottom teeth, scraping out the inner contents. She rolled the slimy mess around in her mouth, savoring the wetness on her parched tongue. Then she waited. Five minutes. The other side would most certainly dry out if she let it set any longer, so she scraped it across her teeth, then swallowed. She knew there was moisture left in the leaves, so she chewed them, extracting every last drop of juice, then spit the tough outer shell on the ground. Rejuvenated by the treat, she hopped off the boulder and trotted back to the road.
Her destination: Bishop, California.
Up until a week ago, Lucy Temeluch never even knew Bishop existed, and if her mother hadn’t slipped up during a crying jag after one too many shots of vodka and mentioned that she went to high school there, she may never have known. But, the moment Lucy pressed the issue and asked if she had any family there, her mother clammed up. In all of Lucy’s seventeen years, Adrianne Temeluch had not once mentioned any living relatives, so as far as she knew, she and her mother were it. She didn’t even know the identity of her father, and each time she asked her mother had the same cryptic answer, “It’s better if you don’t know.” Finally, she stopped asking.
That event one week ago also marked the day when the nightmares intensified. They began to come nightly and were always the same. Lucy lay immobilized on her bed as a dark figure hovered over her ... membranous wings outstretched ... eyes a burning sapphire, staring down at her with a desire she had never before experienced in her seventeen years on Earth. But when the point of view changed and she looked down on herself, it was her mother’s face she saw, not her own. It was her mother’s mouth that opened in the silent scream of ecstasy as the beautifully frightening creature made love to her, then disappeared. She watched as her mother’s stomach rose—ballooning, distorting, ripening with the impending birth of a child. And each time, precisely at 6:04 a.m., she awoke to her mother’s screams coming from her own bedroom. Could it be that her mother had been tormented by this same nightmare? Could it be the thing that drove her to do it? Lucy couldn’t help but replay the horrific events of the day in her mind as she had already done a hundred times before.
This morning, the morning of her seventeenth birthday, the nightmare had come, more vivid than ever. Once again, her mother’s screams woke her. She didn’t have to look at the clock to know what time it was, but she did it anyways—just to be sure. 6:04. She waited for the inevitable sobbing which always followed the screams. This time her mother was silent. Lucy sighed, closed her eyes, and was just beginning to fall asleep when it happened.
At first she thought her extra pillow had simply fallen on her, but before she could swat it away, she felt it being shoved against her face, propelling her deep into her own pillow. Panic set in as she realized she couldn’t breathe. She clawed at the air and felt her fingernails strike flesh, but the pillow didn’t budge. She dug her nails deeper, then pushed with every ounce of strength she could muster from her oxygen-starved body. Success! Her screaming lungs sucked in a breath of air as the pillow was released and fell to the side of the bed. Blinking in disbelief, Lucy stared into the wild eyes of her mother as the disheveled woman backed towards the open door, her lips moving silently, forming the same word, over and over.
“Nephilim... ” Her mother exhaled the solitary word, just loud enough for Lucy to hear. Then she was gone. Lucy stared at the empty doorway for a few seconds, hopped out of bed, ran to the door, locked it, and muscled her dresser in front of it. She rifled through her drawers and blindly threw any clothes she could find into her duffel bag, then climbed out her window, afraid that her mother would be waiting on the other side of door with a knife or one of the guns she kept in her closet. She ran to the garage, praying that her mother left the keys to the Corolla in the ignition, and that it would actually start! Dreading the expected creak, she opened the side door to the garage, but it slid open silently. The light was on. A movement overhead caught Lucy’s attention, and she looked up just in time to see her mother plummet off the rafter. Lucy heard the crack as her mother’s neck broke from the force of the rope attaching it to the high crossbars, and watched in horror as her mother’s lifeless body swung just inches above the concrete slab.
****
The talk with the police had been short. There was no doubt that her mother had committed suicide. After her body had been removed, Lucy’s mind switched to autopilot. She had to get out of there. She lied to the police and told the
m she was eighteen, an adult, but it wouldn’t be too long before they found out that she was still a minor, and then they’d come after her. She didn’t have to think too hard about where she would go. There was only one place. The moment Bishop popped into her head, she knew that was her destination, and it wasn’t just because she might have family there. This urge welled up inside her, like she was being drawn there. Like she had a job to do. Something or someone was waiting there for her. But what?
A horn blasted Lucy out of her reverie. If she’d had any liquid in her body, Lucy Temeluch would have pissed herself. Instead, she jumped to the side of the road as a black pick-up pulled alongside her. Lucy was ready to bolt when the window rolled down.
“Need a ride?”
Lucy eyed the driver warily. For a moment, she was tempted to turn him down, but she knew that he might be her only chance for a ride tonight. Besides, if she didn’t get some water soon, she’d be in trouble.
“Do you have water?”
He tossed a bottle out the window in response. She scrambled to catch it before it hit the road, opened the lid, and took a long drink.
“I’m going to Bishop.”
The man leaned over and opened the door.
“I happen to be headed to Bishop myself.”
Lucy hopped up in the cab. Before she shut the door, the cab light illuminated the man behind the wheel. He looked to be in his early twenties, and was huge. At 5’10”, she’d been called an Amazon all her life, and was taller than most of the guys in her junior class. This guy made her look like a dwarf. He grabbed another bottle of water off the dash and handed it to her as she drained the first. It was then that Lucy noticed the tattoo on his upper arm. She swallowed, and laughed nervously. This was too much of a coincidence.
“This may sound funny, but we have matching tattoos.” She pulled the back of her t-shirt up, revealing the figure of an angelic warrior. “Gave it to myself for a birthday present.”
The young man sized her up for a few seconds, then reached across her and pulled the door shut. He put the truck in gear and continued up the road, looking at her every few seconds.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Lucy ... Temeluch.” She looked over at him. “And you are?”
“Dan. Dan Penemue.”
Lucy drank her water as Dan continued to drive and stare straight ahead. Finally, he cleared his throat and broke the silence.
“Do you have any idea why you chose that particular tattoo?”
Lucy sighed and shrugged. “I ... didn’t choose it. It was more like—I don’t know—like it chose me.”
Dan exhaled and glanced over at Lucy. “Looks like you and I have a lot to talk about.”
Lucy knew he was right. She could feel it. Dan Penemue was one of the reasons she was headed to Bishop. They had a job to do. Together. And she was scared to death.
Chapter Eleven
Julie rolled over and opened one eye to the green glow of her alarm clock. Three-thirteen. Something had awakened her, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. She sat up in her bed, held her breath, and listened. Her vigilance was rewarded by a giggle, muted by distance, and a splash. Someone was in the pool! Julie crept over to the window and used one finger to pull down a solitary blind, just a crack.
“Damn it, Charsey!” Julie whispered.
Even with the pool lights out, the moon reflected off the familiar pink bikini bottom as Charsey pulled herself out of the pool. On the walk ahead of her, twirling the pink bikini top on his left hand, a male figure headed for the pool house. But this wasn’t Kas. Kas would have had a long braid running down his back. This guy had short hair. Remy! It had to be! Julie let the blind snap shut and headed for her bedroom door just as Charsey caught up with the guy. She had to get Charsey and whoever it was off their property before Renatta and her father heard them.
Julie tiptoed across the cement walk leading to the darkened pool house. She stood by the door, her back against the wall of the house, and closed her eyes. Charsey’s moans and muffled squeals left little to the imagination. Julie knew what was going on and she trembled at the thought of opening the door on them, but she knew she had to get them out of there. She took a breath and stood with her hand on the knob when the pool house suddenly fell silent. Julie heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God! At least they were done, and she wouldn’t have to walk in on them. She waited for a count of ten, then pushed the door open.
Charsey lounged on the couch, apparently snoozing after her long night. The moonlight shone through the window, illuminating her naked body. She could have at least covered up.
“Charsey,” Julie whispered as she tossed a throw at the sleeping girl, “wake up. You’ve got to get out of here.”
Silence. She must have passed out.
Julie knelt and lifted the girl’s chin. Her strawberry-blonde head lolled strangely to the side. Charsey’s green eyes, fixed and lifeless, stared back at her. The flutter of panic Julie felt in the back of her throat shot through the rest of her body. She sprang upright as a hand, rough and stinking of chemicals, clamped around her mouth, and another wrapped around her body, holding her arms captive.
“Nosy bitch!”
Julie’s breath came in short, frantic bursts above the killer’s fingers. That was not Remy’s voice, and it wasn’t Kas’s either. This was a voice she didn’t recognize. Spots appeared as the effects of hyperventilation took hold of her.
“Do it! This can be your first kill.” There were two of them! Julie saw a flash of metal in her peripheral vision. Something cold and hard pressed, then quivered momentarily, against the left side of her neck before it raced to the right.
Julie barely felt the sting of the blade as it sliced into her flesh. It didn’t even dawn on her that her throat had been slit until she felt the warm blood cascade down the left side of her pajama top. She slumped to the floor. This wasn’t how she planned on dying. Her death was supposed to be long, and dramatic, and painful, full of doctors and nurses and an inconsolable father. Not like this. This was too easy. Too quick. And she wasn’t ready for it.
“I’ll get the redhead.” Charsey’s killer’s voice was a disembodied echo ... dreamlike ... fading. “This one’s good as dead.” Me. He’s talking about me.
Julie tried to make out who was in the room, but all she saw was the wavering silhouettes of two huge hooded figures. The larger of the two grabbed Charsey’s limp body and flung it over his shoulder. She heard the door open and two sets of footsteps exit the pool house. She was alone. Alone and dying.
Julie’s breathing slowed, keeping time with her faltering heartbeat as lights began to flicker, then disappear, behind her drooping eyelids. The low drone of a motorcycle sounded in the distance as she slipped into her final unconsciousness.
Too late, Eli. You’re too late.
Chapter Twelve
Six miles outside of Bishop, Dan Penemue pulled into a deserted rest stop. “Make it fast. We only have a couple hours before sunrise. All hell’s gonna break loose as soon as they discover the mess we left. I wanna be sleeping in my own bed with my alibi when they do.”
Lucy staggered to the restroom, pulled the string to the overhead light bulb, and locked the door. She fought the urge to retch as she yanked the blood-soaked hoodie over her head and threw it by the door. Dan would get rid of it later with his own. Turning on the faucet, she plunged her hands into the stream of icy water, and watched as the color changed. A spiral of crimson swirled around the drain, then faded back to plain water as she washed the last bit of the girl’s blood from her hands.
My first kill, she thought bitterly. Dan considered it an honor, even if it was just taking care of a “loose end”. Killing a suspected Fire-Child was one thing, but this girl was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. An innocent. Even knowing that, it amazed her at how easily she did it. Her hand trembled only slightly. All she could think of as she slid that blade across the girl’s throat was her birthright. Immortality.
“Move it, Lucy.”
Lucy bent over the faucet and took a drink, swooshed it around in her mouth, and spit it out, along with the last remnants of the nausea she had been feeling. She looked at her reflection as she patted her face dry. There, that wasn’t so bad now, was it? It’ll be easier the next time. That’s what Dan said. Pleased with herself, she walked to the door, grabbed the doorknob, stopped in mid-twist, then dashed back to the toilet as the vomit exploded from her mouth.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday morning just before noon, a cell phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. The fourth ring finally wiggled its way through the protective fog enveloping the owner’s fragile brain, bringing with it flashes of blood, a blade, and the silhouette of a giant. Julie Mason’s hand flew to her throat as the ringing stopped. She traced her trembling, frantic fingers from side to side, feeling her pounding pulse, but nothing more. Her skin felt normal. Whole. Not ripped apart. She was alive! Tears rolled across her temples as she squeezed her eyes shut. It had to have been a nightmare, but it seemed so real!