The Spawn of Lilith

by Dana Fredsti

  “Look out!”

  I looked up just in time to see Darius with the gobo head raised to bring it smashing down on the demon. Just as he did it dissolved, splattering me with its fluids. I threw myself to one side and the crowbar smashed into the linoleum where my head had been.

  It’s all in the reflexes, I thought.

  “Guess you killed it,” Darius said casually, as if he hadn’t just nearly brained me. He held out a hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. I scooped up my flashlight where it had fallen.

  We made it to the front without any further attacks. The light in Herman’s office was thankfully still on and the temperature normal. I didn’t turn my flashlight off, but I felt safe enough for the immediate moment to lower it. Darius lowered his, as well, but we both kept our weapons ready.

  We did a quick scan of the room, looking for the 5K. Darius checked along the walls, digging into a pile of boxes in one corner while I looked behind Herman’s desk. I didn’t see anything that looked like a big light. Just a couple of books, one of them lying open on the floor.

  It looked old, with parchment pages instead of paper and hand-inked lettering instead of print. Simple illustrations. There were several of the same kinds of circles and symbols that Jaden had drawn for the so-called ritual effects.

  I was so focused on it that I almost missed the movement in the periphery of my vision. Only this time it wasn’t a Davea. It was the sharp point of a knife aimed at my chest with a speed that almost took me by fatal surprise.

  Reacting purely on instinct, I fell backward, grabbing the bottom of Herman’s expensive ergonomic chair and shoving it at my assailant as the momentum of his thrust carried him forward. He gave a grunt as the back of the chair caught him in his midsection.

  “Darius, what the fuck?”

  I scrambled back like a crab on my elbows and feet, never taking my eyes off of the man I’d thought was my coworker and ally.

  “I am sorry for this, Lee, but you kill too many of them. Things must go as planned.”

  “What things? What plans? What the fuck!”

  If I’d hoped Darius would go into a long-winded monologue and give me time to figure out some strategy, I was sorely disappointed. He kicked the chair back at me as I rounded the corner of the desk. It caught me on one hip and sent me sprawling on the carpeted floor in the middle of the office.

  The crowbar flew out of one hand, the Maglite out of the other.

  Shit.

  Tossing his flashlight aside, Darius leapt over the desk, using one hand to propel himself, the other clutching the same knife he’d used in our fight. Not the rubber prop either, but the stainless steel version.

  I lunged for the crowbar, but Darius grabbed one of my legs and yanked, pulling me back toward him before my fingers did more than graze it. I rolled onto my back before he could bring the knife down between my shoulder blades, slamming the palm of one hand against the edge of his wrist so the thrust went off to one side. The point of the knife buried itself in the plush carpeting an inch away from my shoulder.

  Unfazed, he pulled the knife out, throwing his body on top of mine to keep me in place, and aimed for the center of my throat this time. I grabbed his hand, holding the knife at bay. I was strong, but he was stronger and whatever mojo had kicked in when I fought Axel and the Davea failed completely with Darius.

  A very small part of me wished that someone was filming this fight, because I bet it looked pretty epic. And it looked like it would be the last one I ever fought.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He didn’t answer, just continued to press down on the knife, the point less than an inch away from my throat.

  My arms trembled, threatening to give out against his superior upper body strength and leverage. I tried to throw him off of me, but his balance was too good and he knew how to center his weight, effectively holding me in place. The knife descended another half an inch. I strained against it, knowing I couldn’t hold out any longer.

  So I stopped resisting and redirected my energies into jerking his hands and the knife as far to the right as possible, while pulling my head and neck in the opposite direction. It was a risky move and I’d probably need a chiropractor if I survived, but it was all I had.

  The point skimmed the edge of my neck, scoring a line down the side but missing the flesh and—more importantly—my jugular. Losing his balance, Darius fell forward, and I shoved as hard as I could, throwing him off me.

  He swore in Romanian, lashing out at me as I went for the crowbar again, catching the back of my right calf. I felt the sting as the steel sliced through denim and flesh. As he went for another cut, I kicked out like a donkey, smashing the side of his hand with my heel hard enough to make him drop the knife.

  I scrambled to my feet, panting.

  He winced, shaking his wrist and hand.

  “You are very good stuntwoman, Lee,” he said. “I would have worked with you again.” He reached for his knife without taking his eyes off me. I could swear I saw real regret in them. “It is too bad you must die.”

  As a professional reference, it left something to be desired.

  Darius reset, and I backed up, hitting one of the standing bookshelves and then the wall. Nowhere left to go.

  He came in for the killing blow.

  But the knife never reached me.

  Obsidian claws flashed out of a shadow under one of the books on the stand, closing in on Darius’s wrist. He screamed as both knife and hand fell to the floor, blood gouting out of the stump where his hand had been. Before he could do more than stare at the tattered remains of his wrist, the same Davea ripped a hole in his chest.

  I snatched my Maglite off the ground, but the Davea had already gone, taking Darius’s heart with it before his corpse slid to the floor. Standing in shock for a moment, I shone the beam around the office, looking for shadows. Waiting for it to be my turn. After a long stretch, however, it became obvious—for whatever reason—they were leaving me alone.

  Stumbling over Darius’s corpse, I retrieved my crowbar, tucking it under one arm, then turned to the pile of boxes along one wall. I found the one holding the 5K and picked it up, grunting with the effort. Then I slowly made my way out of Herman’s office, down the hall and back toward the soundstage, trailing blood and limping the entire way.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I staggered out onto the soundstage, knees buckling beneath the weight of the 5K. It felt more like sixty pounds than thirty by this time.

  “Lee!”

  Ben saw me limping toward them and immediately turned a handheld spot on me until I’d reached the safe zone.

  The remaining cast and crew kept as close to the center of the light as possible, some standing and a few sitting with arms wrapped around their knees. Eden held the other spotlight connected to the extension cord. Kyra sat next to Kat and Peter, who both lay curled up, eyes closed. Peter looked really bad.

  Herman was on his feet, swaying back and forth ever so slightly, looking entirely unaware of his surroundings. The Tymons stood nearby, keeping a close eye on him. I dumped the box at Connor’s feet. He scooped it up with the possessive care of a mother for her newborn baby.

  “Paul,” he barked, “Grab a C-stand.”

  “Girl, you’re bleeding,” Ben said with concern.

  Connor looked up sharply. “Are you hurt?”

  I waved it off. “It’s just a cut,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Sure. Now sit down and let me take a look at it.”

  “As soon as Connor gets that light turned on,” I said, eying the small shadow cast by the box. Most likely there was too much light from the 1K, but I was still on high alert for opportunistic Davea.

  Connor removed the 5K and I immediately kicked the box outside of the circle. Just in case. He plugged the cord into the same extension cord that powered the 1K, and our end of the soundstage was awash in enough light to let everyone spread out and sit down.

>   I would never again make fun of Connor’s 5K obsession.

  “I think we’re okay for now,” I said. “If we stay in the light until morning, we can get out of here.” It didn’t look as if Peter had that long, though. If we didn’t get him medical help soon, he wasn’t going to make it.

  “Fine.” Ben gestured to my leg. “Now let’s take care of this.” I plopped down on the floor without another word, but gave a hiss of pain as Ben pulled blood-sodden denim away from the wound.

  “Sorry, kid,” he apologized. “It’s sticking a little bit.”

  No shit.

  “Try this.” Joe held out a water bottle stripped of its label. Guess he’d taken my warning about shadows seriously.

  Ben twisted the lid off and gently poured some of the liquid onto my wound, giving me the rest to drink. I polished it off in two swallows, tossing the bottle out into the darkness.

  “It’s not too deep,” Ben said. “Looks pretty clean, too. What happened?”

  I hesitated. Should I tell them the truth?

  “Where’s Darius?” Breanna asked with impeccable timing.

  I shook my head. “One of those things got him,” I said truthfully. I didn’t need to feign the regret that crept into my voice. I’d liked Darius. We’d worked well together. Too bad he’d tried to kill me.

  Breanna gave a little cry and buried her head against Dan’s shoulder. He looked stunned. Joe looked down at the floor, and then back at me.

  “What the fuck?” he growled, anger flaring in his eyes. “How many people have these motherfuckers killed?”

  “Ten.”

  We all turned to look at Herman, standing near the 5K as if sunning himself in its rays.

  “But only seven of them count,” he added. “Seven lives and seven hearts. Seven—” Then he collapsed, his limp body smashing into Connor and the C-stand that held the 5K. Connor stumbled backward. The stand and light wobbled briefly—

  —and toppled to the ground with a crash. The beam of the 5K flickered and went out.

  People screamed, scrambling to get back into the small circle left by the 1K. Except Herman. He sprawled on his back, unconscious, just outside of the light, one foot entangled in the extension cord that was plugged into the wall.

  Even as I charged toward him, knife in hand, the Davea swarmed out of the shadows and into his open mouth. His body jerked, pulling the extension cord out of the wall.

  The 1K went out as well.

  Someone yelled, but surprisingly that was it. The terror in the air was palpable. I think most people just froze, hoping that if they didn’t move, the monsters couldn’t find them.

  The Davea could see in the dark.

  We needed to plug that extension cord back into the outlet.

  “Eden,” I said, “do you still have the handheld?”

  “Yes,” she replied, voice shaky.

  “Shine it on the outlet.” A soft click and I could see the end of the cord, lying right below the outlet. “Paul, hold onto the 1K!” I didn’t waste any time. I sprinted over to the wall, snatching up the cord with a yank to disentangle it from Herman’s foot, and plugged it back in.

  The light immediately came back on.

  I did a quick head count. No one else was missing. No one else was hurt.

  Something was definitely different, however.

  Herman still lay on the ground where he’d collapsed, but he was no longer alone. Lying next to him was a naked woman, wasted and fragile, bones close to the surface of her flesh. Despite this, she was still beautiful, with a long, luxuriant mane of hair the color of moonlight.

  Herman stirred, eyelids fluttering as a low moan escaped him. The woman next to him mirrored both the movement and the noise. A chill ran up my spine.

  My first instinct was to run over and see if I could help, but something held me back. A small voice inside urged me to be cautious.

  The Tymons, on the other hand, ran to the producer’s side, helping him sit up. The girl stirred as well. Dan reached down as if intending to assist her, but Herman held up a hand.

  “No.”

  Dan pulled his hand away.

  The girl sat up slowly, looking around her in confusion. She looked so frail—as frail as Herman, as if the two shared the same wasting disease. In fact, they could have been twins. Same high cheekbones, same finely painted features, and the same startlingly ice-blue eyes.

  Her gaze fell on Herman and she smiled widely, pure happiness lighting up those gaunt features.

  “Hahriman.” A world of love filled that one word.

  “Sala…” Herman looked as though he would weep.

  She looked down at her own body. “We are separate. We are ourselves again. How is this?”

  “Magic,” he whispered.

  She reached out and caressed his face. He brought his hand up to cover hers, rubbing his cheek against her palm.

  “You are so thin, my brother. Why have you not fed? I am so very hungry.” She looked around then, seeing Breanna and Dan standing close by, and all the rest of us in the light. She smiled again.

  “You have brought me a feast, my brother.”

  Now that was creepy.

  “Sala,” Herman said again, taking her in his arms and stroking the hair back from her forehead. “I haven’t eaten because if I did, you would be too strong.”

  “Too strong?” Sala laughed, a lilting sound that had more than a hint of madness in it. “Too strong for what?”

  Herman smiled sadly. Then he pulled a knife out from his waistband and drove it into her heart. Her eyes widened in shock.

  “Hahriman…”

  “Know that I love you now and always, my Sala,” he whispered. He held her close as she let out a shuddering breath before going limp in his arms. He then lowered her gently to the floor, collapsing onto his knees next to her as if someone had cut his strings.

  Holy shit. Several people gasped. I was one of them.

  Then the room was silent except for the sound of Herman weeping. Great hitching sobs of pure grief.

  “It worked, Herman,” Breanna said uncomfortably. “You’re finally free.”

  Dan nodded.

  Herman looked up at them, his face a portrait of pain and loss. He started to speak.

  “I—” Whatever he planned on saying was cut off by a coughing fit.

  “Someone help,” Breanna cried. “He needs water!”

  No one moved. I didn’t blame them.

  Herman continued to cough, hard enough to rack his entire body as though his chest was being ripped apart from the inside.

  Oh, hell. I snatched up a bottle of water and took it over, unscrewing the lid and putting it into Herman’s hand. He took a sip, then another.

  “Lee,” he said simply. “I wanted to wait until the film was finished. Wanted to make sure everyone I’d hired would have one last project they could be proud of before—” He started coughing again, harder this time, doubling over with the strength of the spasms. Flecks of blood spotted his lips.

  “It’s as I feared,” he whispered. “I can’t survive without her.”

  “Herman,” I said. “What the hell is going on?”

  The coughing continued. The flecks turned to spots of blood, all the color in his face draining away. He crumpled, falling from his knees onto his side, curling up into a fetal ball.

  I leaned closer and put a hand on his cheek. The flesh below my palm was cool as mortician’s wax.

  “Lee… help me.” He looked up, and his voice was barely audible. I bit my lip and fought to keep eye contact, resisting the urge to look away.

  “What do you need? I’m right here.”

  “I need you…” he whispered.

  I took his hand, cradled his head with the other. He reached for my face almost blindly and gently ran his fingers along my cheekbone, soft as a baby touching his mother. He slipped them around my neck—and then his grip tightened.

  “I need you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

&nb
sp; Fast as a striking snake, he pulled me in and kissed me, open mouthed and hard. There was no lust in it—only a raw hunger. His strength was unreal. He had a death grip on my neck and one of my hands was pinned against his chest. I couldn’t pull away or twist out of his grasp.

  Then it began.

  His touch created a creepy warm sensation, radiating out from his lips and hands, soaking into my body. The rising heat permeated my flesh, organs, and bones, turning everything to putty as it oozed through me. I felt like a spider’s victim, injected with some horrific venom that was slowly liquefying me from the inside.

  Our eyes locked onto each other from only an inch away, Herman’s gleaming with excitement. I struggled to pull my mouth away from his kiss, but my lips seemed bonded to his. His probing tongue licked mine and I realized our tongues had joined together, as well. I tried to scream, but only a muffled sound of terror escaped.

  Why isn’t anyone helping me? But it was all happening too fast. I felt his fingers on the nape of my neck, merging into my skin. His other hand had already welded itself onto mine, our arms now connected by a thick knob of flesh that had been our fists.

  He continued to draw me closer into his embrace, pulling me down, not just onto him, but into him. Our legs and torsos merged together in an almost sickeningly sexual way. We were literally becoming one flesh.

  I felt my face and head sliding down into his. The last thing I saw were his eyes before they merged into mine.

  I gave one last silent scream and blacked out.

  * * *

  Nothingness. I could feel nothing, sense nothing—no body, no me. Only my bare thoughts suspended in a perfect sea of black void.

  Am I dead? Where am I?

  You’re with me, came an answer from somewhere else in the darkness. Come. See.

  I awoke.

  Or at least the blackness was gone.

  I found myself—whatever that meant now—somewhere very different. Golden sand. Turquoise water. Two naked children, a boy and a girl, playing at the water’s edge. Darkness descending, flashes of lightning. The smell of ozone permeating the air. When the darkness dissipated, only one child was left lying stricken on the sand.