The Spawn of Lilith

by Dana Fredsti

  I knelt by its side, doing my best to breathe shallowly through my mouth and trying to forget that smell was particulate. I wanted to get as close a look as I dared to see what, exactly, we were up against. As I leaned down, however, the oily texture of its skin began blistering, bubbles rising and popping like the surface of a tar pit, the flesh dissolving before my eyes.

  Within seconds, the whole mess had vanished, the liquefied critter absorbed into the flooring. The smell, unfortunately, lingered on.

  “Wow,” I said. “That is truly disgusting.”

  “Yes,” Connor said, sounding shell-shocked. “That was…” He trailed off, shook his head and then said simply. “You were amazing. Thank you.”

  Ah, for a tape recorder. Still, I found myself oddly embarrassed by the praise. “I’m just glad I had this,” I said, holding up the prop knife.

  “The black gunk didn’t stick to it, either.”

  I glanced down at the blade, which was totally clean. I rubbed my finger along its length and realized it was the one made of rubber.

  Not steel.

  “Holy crap,” I whispered. My knees went wobbly and I started to shake as the realization truly sunk in.

  “A rubber knife,” I said weakly.

  Connor held onto me, keeping me steady until the shaking and the wobbling stopped. Even then, he kept his arm around me until we could start moving.

  Down in the soundstage, someone had turned on the main bank of lights. It helped, but not enough—my vision was blurred. There were people crowded back toward craft service. For some reason the elephant doors weren’t open. I scanned the group and didn’t see any sign of Jaden. When I blinked, or tried to, Angel’s blood made my eyelashes stick together.

  “Lee!” Kyra ran up to us, Eden close on her heels. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

  “When Angel went back there, and we heard the screams—” Eden looked ashamed. “We shouldn’t have left until we found out if you were okay or not.”

  “You both did the right thing,” I assured her. “We need to call the police, get ahold of Detective Fitzgerald. I think we found Portia’s killers, and they sure as hell aren’t werewolves. Did either of you see where Jaden went?”

  Eden shook her head but Kyra nodded.

  “I saw him head back to his hole in the ground,” she said without love.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Okay, you three get out of the building. I’m going to go find Jaden and make him tell me what the hell he’s done, and how we make it stop.” I started to move, but Connor grabbed my arm.

  “You’re not going back there,” he said. “It’s not your job.”

  “That asshole turned something loose with his so-called effects,” I growled. “Something that kills. Four people have already died, maybe more. I want to know what he did and why.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” he persisted. “You said we needed to call the police. Well, that’s what we’re going to do, because it is their job. Now come on.” He grabbed my arm again and we followed Eden and Kyra back toward the exit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I’d expected to see the elephant doors wide open, everyone out of the building. Instead the remaining cast and crew—all in the midst of varying degrees of panic—clustered tightly around the exit.

  “Get those damn doors open!” Jack yelped, a note of hysteria raising his voice by half an octave. His panic level was creeping into the red, unlike the Tymons, who seemed to be handling things relatively calmly. Ben and Peter pulled with their combined strength, but the doors refused to budge.

  “They must be locked from the outside,” Peter said, panting from the exertion.

  “There are no locks on the outside,” Connor said. He pushed through, grasped a thin metal bar at floor level, and pulled it up out of a hole. Then he did the same thing with the other door, sliding first one, then the other open and letting in a breeze from outside. Our relief was short-lived.

  There was no light out in the parking lot.

  Sure, the sun had set, but this was a well-lit lot, and there should have been an ambient glow coming in from the streets and surrounding buildings. There was nothing.

  Just a sea of darkness.

  Jack pushed his way to the front, shoving a weeping Joan out of the way.

  “Wait,” I said. “Something’s wrong. You can’t see the cars.”

  “I’m not waiting for anything,” he said, his voice tremulous. “I knew the devil was in the script. I knew it. Satan’s loose, and he’ll kill us all if we stay!”

  “Jack—”

  Smacking my hands away as I reached for him, he practically threw himself into the black hole of a parking lot.

  Seconds later he fell to the asphalt, body sliced apart like a Thanksgiving turkey. He’d died without uttering a sound.

  Joan was right on his heels, and stopped short, face ashen. Her eyes turned up in her head and she collapsed face-down across the threshold, with only her head and neck outside the building.

  “Get her inside!” I yelled. Ben and Joe immediately grabbed Joan’s legs and dragged her back inside.

  Her head was already gone.

  Someone screamed. Maybe Kat.

  Grabbing the door nearest me, I slid it closed again. Connor did the same with the other one, shoving the metal bars back in place.

  “Kyra, see if you can get a hold of the police,” I said.

  She nodded.

  “I’m not getting any bars,” she said.

  No cell phone signal? We were in Culver City, for chrissake. There were satellite towers everywhere. They even outnumbered the Starbucks.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Before Connor or anyone else could protest, I took off at a sprint toward the inner doors, pulling them open and dashing down the hall. The fluorescent lighting still cast its harsh glare on the linoleum. I tried not to think of poor Joan as I hurried into Wardrobe, reached under the counter, and pulled out my tote.

  Grabbing my iPhone, I punched in the passcode. One bar, which was more than we had in the soundstage. I pulled up my list of favorites and hit Sean’s name without a second thought.

  It rang once.

  Twice.

  I braced myself for his voicemail message.

  Three.

  “Lee? What’s up, baby girl?”

  I nearly collapsed with relief. That voice, so full of comforting warmth.

  “Sean?” My voice cracked.

  “Lee?” Sean’s tone sharpened. “What’s wrong?”

  I told him in as few words as possible. He listened without interrupting, which made me love him more than ever. When I’d finished, there was a brief pause as he assimilated all the information.

  “You killed it with a rubber knife?” I don’t know what I’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t it.

  “Yeah, I know. Weird, huh? I—”

  “Lee, listen to me. Are you wearing your amulet?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your mother’s necklace. Are you wearing it?”

  “I don’t… Sean, why are you—”

  “Lee, please. Just trust me. Are you wearing the amulet?”

  “I…” I put my hand up to my neck. No necklace. “No, I don’t—”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s not around my neck, but—” I stopped and patted around my waist, feeling the almost indiscernible bulge of the neoprene pouch.

  “I’ve got it.”

  Sean’s sigh of relief was audible.

  “Okay, good. Now—”

  Whatever he said was obscured by static.

  “Sean?”

  More static. Then the line went dead. I checked the readout.

  No bars.

  The battery went dead, too.

  “Shit!”

  At least Sean knew something was wrong and would call the police. All we had to do was wait it out. I pulled off my Morganti costume, grateful to shed the blood-encrusted leather and wig. I put on my jea
ns, tank top, and boots, tucking my phone into a back pocket. There was a box of baby wipes on a table. I did my best to clean the blood out of my eyelashes and off my face.

  Starting out of the wardrobe room, I paused by the rack holding Jeanette’s costumes. I’d left the knife in its sheath on the belt yet again, intending to take my props back to Michael at the end of the day’s shoot. Pulling out the belt, I strapped it around my waist and unsnapped the fastener on the sheath. If I’d killed one of those things with a rubber knife, it seemed likely that stainless steel would be even more effective.

  Suddenly I froze in place.

  There was a furtive sound near the door, like someone trying to sneak quietly down the hallway. Creeping over, I peered out just in time to see Jaden headed in my direction, toward the front offices. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure he was free and clear.

  I smiled grimly.

  He wasn’t.

  Waiting until he’d passed Makeup, I stepped out in front of him.

  “Got a minute?”

  Jaden gave a startled shriek and jumped back. I don’t know if he was trying to make a run for it, but I didn’t wait to find out. Grabbing him by the shirt and one arm, I swung him around and pitched him through the doorway into Makeup. He landed hard on his hands and knees. Before he could scrabble to his feet, I seized the back of his collar, muscling him into one of the chairs.

  It wasn’t hard to do. Jaden didn’t have a lot of muscle going on, and I was beyond pissed off, using the angry adrenaline to make sure he stayed where I wanted him.

  “Just the guy I wanted to talk to.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Outrage flared behind the fear in his eyes, and Jaden shoved himself out of the chair back onto his feet, attempting to push his way past me.

  That so isn’t gonna happen. I grabbed him by his shirt front. “Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, or do I have to beat it out of you?” I’d never actually done that before, but I was more than willing to give it a shot.

  “Get off me,” he yelled.

  Oh, well. I raised my fist and punched him in the jaw. Not as hard as I could have either. I can punch damn hard, but I didn’t want to knock him out or break a knuckle.

  “Ow!” He grabbed his face and glared at me. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  Hauling him close, I tried not to wince at the sour smell of his breath. Did this guy ever brush his teeth?

  “Either you tell me what’s going on or they’re gonna have to wire your jaw shut. I swear, you’ll be drinking through a straw for a month.” The line was straight out of some cheesy movie or TV show and sounded pretty stupid coming out of my mouth, but it seemed to work.

  Probably because I meant every word.

  I raised my fist again. Jaden flinched back.

  “Okay! Okay, but you’re never going to believe me.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, because everything that’s happening is sooo believable. Now stop bullshitting me and talk.” For emphasis I shook him as hard as I could. I thought I heard his teeth rattle.

  “Fuck! Okay, fine. Just… just let go of me.”

  I unclenched my fingers, but leaned in close.

  “Fine. Talk.”

  He sat down and exhaled, his shoulders sagging as the air of defiance seemed to deflate with that breath.

  “I wanted to do something different—something no one has seen before. I wanted it to be special. Extreme. Balls to the wall badass. Not just some cheesy CGI bullshit like you see in every other low-budget production. So I did some research, found a ritual to call up these shadow demons—Davea. They’re like the pit bulls of the demon world. You point and they attack. Or do whatever you want them to do. They were perfect.”

  I stared at him in disgust.

  “You thought calling up demons was a good way to make your mark? What kind of sociopathic idiot are you? And that’s not, by the way, a rhetorical question.”

  He shot me a resentful glare. “It’s not like I haven’t done rituals before. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Great. So this isn’t your first demon summoning rodeo. Is this the first time you’ve lost control of them? Or are you just chalking up the deaths to collateral damage?”

  “Okay, now that wasn’t supposed to happen,” he protested. “The first time I figured I’d done something wrong. Used the wrong type of blood or herbs. Maybe not fresh enough.”

  I felt anger rising inside me, like lava about to burst through the earth’s crust. “Let me get this straight. Someone died the first time you performed this fucked-up experiment, and you tried it again?”

  He shrugged, looking for all the world like a sullen kid.

  “Things happen. There’s always a risk to conjuring, especially when you’re dealing with demons. Even the lesser ones.”

  I counted to three. I didn’t have the patience for ten.

  “So you’ve got the right to decide if your career is worth another person’s life.” Wisely, he didn’t reply. If he had, I might have done something I couldn’t take back. I focused on breathing for a few minutes. Deep, calming breaths. Trying to let all homicidal thoughts go until I trusted myself to speak again.

  “So what happened, then?”

  “I tried the ritual again, and it went the way it was supposed to.”

  “Oh, you mean no one died this time?”

  He shrugged as if the question was irrelevant.

  “As far as I know.”

  The lava bubbled up a little higher. I managed to keep a cap on it.

  “Then what?”

  “Herman wanted to move things up, so I tried another trial run. It seemed to go really well.” He paused, and added, “Then you found Portia’s body.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “And yet you did the spell again, with the entire cast and crew gathered around as a handy lunch buffet, in case your pet demons got hungry.” It was beyond vile. “I… I…”

  My words trailed off. My hands clenched and unclenched. I wanted to kill him. No, I wanted to feed him to his own shadow critters.

  “It should have been okay,” Jaden insisted. “They were just hungry, and Portia was… I think she drew them to her. Strong emotions can do that, especially negative ones. But tonight? Everything was perfect. It should’ve worked, and no one should have been hurt!”

  “And yet Effie, Angel, Jack, and Joan are all dead,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “That’s not my fault.”

  “If you say ‘it wasn’t part of the deal’ I swear you will be shitting out your own teeth.”

  “You saw it! The Davea did what I wanted them to do, right up until I yelled cut. I got it on film. I got them on film—and it looks fantastic!” He sounded genuinely euphoric. It was for the good of the film, so it was all good, right?

  I will not kill him.

  It took every ounce of self-control I had.

  “Why are those creatures still here?”

  “I… I don’t know. As soon as you and Connor left the ritual room, I went back to perform the closing ritual that sends them back and shuts the gate—” He wiped his forehead, looking uncertain for the first time. He peered up at me and swallowed heavily. “The circle had been destroyed and the gate was gone. Closed—and they’re still here.”

  “So redraw your circle and open the gate again.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Why not?”

  s“When the original gate was destroyed, I lost control of the Davea. I can’t get them back.”

  I took a few more deep breaths.

  “So you’re telling me these… these Davea are roaming wild and free, and can come out of any shadow they want?” I looked down at the floor. “They could just pop out of my shadow right now and rip me to shreds?”

  “No, they can’t use shadows cast by anything organic.” He seemed irritated at my ignorance.

  “So how the hell can we get rid of them?”

  The uncertainty returned.


  “I don’t know. I think… I think someone else has taken control.”

  “Who?”

  “I… I don’t know.” His gaze flickered to the side.

  Definitely lying.

  “How is that even possible?” I leaned in. “You have to have some idea, and you’d better tell me, because I’m back to the whole ‘shitting out teeth and eating out of a straw’ if you don’t.”

  “I can’t—”

  Directly behind him, the bulb in the mirror went out.

  Before either of us had a chance to move, oily black limbs reached out of the mirror, grabbed Jaden’s head, and twisted it off. Blood spurted out of his neck, splattering me before I had the wherewithal to leap backward. The rotted sewage stench of the Davea filled the room, and Jaden’s headless corpse slumped down in the chair.

  A second Davea followed on the heels of the first, ripping into the corpse’s chest to extract the still-dripping heart. It immediately vanished back into the mirror, carrying its bloody prize.

  The other bulbs above the mirror begin to flicker, making little buzzing sounds as, one by one, they also went out. Soon the only light left came from the bulb in the ceiling. Hissing and gurgling noises emanated from the dark corners of the mirror. I could see shadows moving, taking shape. Ice began to form on the mirrors and walls.

  Wiping yet more blood from my eyes, I looked around for some sort of weapon. No crowbars, no handy chunks of wood, nothing except Kyra’s makeup kit. Unless the threat of a badly executed makeover frightened the Davea, I was shit out of luck.

  The first demon roiled in the shadows, oozing toward me slowly, almost as if it was toying with me. My hand fell to my hip, where Jeanette’s knife rested in its sheath. I didn’t waste time breathing a sigh of relief. I pulled the knife out, happy to have seven inches of steel in my hand, instead of rubber.

  The Davea dove for my head, going for another decapitation.

  Sorry, no second take for you.

  I dropped out of the way and lunged to the side, slicing across its torso and releasing more of the noxious fluid that served as its blood. The thing gave a squeal of pain and melted back into the darkness.

  Leaving Jaden’s corpse where it lay, I got the hell out of Makeup.