The Spawn of Lilith

by Dana Fredsti

  “I… I don’t know.”

  I put my head on the table for a minute, trying to shove the headache—and heartache—back inside.

  Seth shook his head in disgust.

  “Haven’t you learned anything over the years?”

  “Seth.” Sean gave him a warning glance.

  “No, let me finish.” Seth glared at me. “After all Sean has done for you, how can you possibly think he’d lie to you about this?”

  I returned his glare without backing down.

  “Then why didn’t he tell me any of this years ago?” I shot back.

  “Stop it, Lee!” Seth slammed a hand down, rattling the bottles. “Stop trying to make this Sean’s fault!”

  “I’m not!” I shouted. Then I took a deep breath and continued. “I just… I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell me sooner.”

  “You weren’t ready. Sean knew it would be hard for you to absorb this.”

  “I’m not a goddamn sponge,” I snarled. “Why not tell me when I was a kid? Back when I believed in dragons and shit?” I gave a little laugh. “Hell, I still believe in all that stuff, and a hell of a lot more. Now you’re telling me I have to fight them?”

  “Not all of them.” Sean drained his second bomber. He pulled another out of the six-pack and popped the top.

  “So if I’m getting this right, you’re telling me I should have killed Axel because he’s a demon and therefore a child of Lilith.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Of course it’s not,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “Look, it’s not fair for you to expect me to just accept this. It’s a lot to swallow.”

  Sean reached out, putting one hand over mine. It took all of my willpower not to snatch it away. But I didn’t. I left it there, telling myself this was the man who raised me. Who loved me. Who wouldn’t play crazy games with my head, just for the sake of being cruel.

  “So this is something I’ve inherited from my mother, like some really fucked-up recessive gene, one that’s been passed down along one very small family line for millennia.” I frowned at a new thought. “Then why do you know about it?”

  “Our family has been tied to yours for a long time,” Sean said quietly. “It wasn’t an accident that I was your father’s best friend.”

  “The car crash. Was it—”

  He shook his head. “Your mother was tired of the fight.”

  “Where does that put people like Randy? Or Drift and Tater? Hell, by this logic I should have killed Axel. I’m not gonna get much work in the industry if I go around killing every half-demon, cave troll, or shifter I run into.”

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Seth growled.

  “So you’ve said,” I muttered.

  “Just as a third line of humans evolved,” Sean said, “so did the supernaturals. Lilith’s children mated with other gods and demons, some with creatures from other worlds. Some of those mated with mankind. Not all of them are evil. The longer this has gone on, the more diluted the bloodlines have become—but there’s still only one line of First Humans descended from Lilith.”

  “Why not tell me sooner?” I asked. “Why wait until I’m in my twenties?”

  “El deemed it fair that each of Lilith’s descendants have ample time to train in whatever arts of war were deemed necessary. You had to be ready.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “How many kills pay off the debt?” I finally asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sean answered.

  “Well, I may suck at math,” I continued, “but if Lilith’s demonic rug rats have been doing the nasty and making little monsters for all these centuries…” I stopped. It was an overwhelming thought.

  Sean and Seth didn’t say anything.

  “This isn’t fair!” I burst out. “How come some ancient, out-of-fashion god gets to screw with my life?”

  “El has worn many names,” Seth said. “Including Yahweh. He currently just goes by God.”

  Well, hell.

  “And if I say no?” I finally asked. “Decide I don’t want the job?”

  “Now that you’ve come into your heritage, Lilith’s children will always be drawn to you. You’ll know it when they’re near… at least those who want to kill you. You’ll have no choice but to kill them first. If you don’t—”

  He reached out and gently touched the amulet around my neck.

  “Your mother tried to say no. It cost her and your father their lives.”

  I thought about that. Finished my beer.

  “Is the demon that killed my parents still alive?” I asked.

  Sean hesitated, then answered, “Yes.”

  “Good,” I said coldly.

  EPILOGUE

  “No PBR tonight, huh?”

  Marge raised her eyebrow as I set down my usual load of beer and chips on the counter. It’d been a week since I’d had my “Come to Yahweh” talk with Sean and Seth. I was dealing with it by throwing myself into familiar routines, such as making beer runs for the gang.

  “Drift brought a buttload of Stella over,” I said. “I think we have enough cheap beer to last for the night.”

  “You gonna be done ringing this little girl up any time today?” A deep voice spoke right behind me. I nearly dropped the salsa in surprise, then turned to see who the hell had managed to get that close without either Marge or myself noticing.

  At first glance he looked like your typical over-confident urban cowboy type. You know, with the too clean designer jeans, a crisp white shirt, and Frye boots straight off the assembly line. Trying hard to make an impression.

  I wasn’t impressed.

  Little girl, my ass.

  And yet, something about him made me take a second glance. If I ignored the “trying too hard” wardrobe and unfortunate choice of words, he was kind of tasty. Mid-thirties or so. Shaggy mane of reddish hair, almost auburn. Pale-blue eyes set in improbably tan skin. Big, lots of muscles under those clothes.

  He had three bottles of red wine, some cheese, salami, and a box of crackers cradled in strong arms and large hands. Probably just bought himself a few acres after a good film deal.

  “Do I know you?” I asked.

  He looked me up and down with frank appreciation, not bothering to hide his interest.

  “Do you want to?” His voice hit all the right notes, sending a ripple of unwanted interest up my spine. I ignored it.

  “Doubtful.”

  He grinned at me, looking like he was in on some secret joke that I probably wouldn’t find funny. Something unsavory danced in the back of those cold blue eyes. I stared at him, head cocked slightly to one side. Sean would call it my “looking at a bug” expression.

  Hunky or not, this guy set off my creep-o-meter.

  “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  He raised an eyebrow, grin widening. “Just bought the property at the end of Harris Road. Up in the hills, all the way at the end of the line.”

  “I know the one,” I said, I kept my voice neutral, not wanting to sound impressed. This dude had money to burn if he could afford to buy the DuShane place.

  “Figured you might.” His gaze burned into mine.

  “Well, hopefully you’ll get used to the pace out here.” I smiled, channeling my best Daisy Duke imitation. “We country mice do things a mite slower than you city folks.”

  With that, I turned back to Marge. “Y’know I think I will take a case of the PBR, too. If they don’t drink it tonight, it’ll be one less trip I need to take tomorrow, right?”

  I gave her a wink and sauntered back to the fridge, well aware of how tight my yoga pants were as I bent down and took my sweet time pulling out the beer. I felt the man’s gaze on me the entire time. Part of me wanted to take a hot shower, scrub myself really hard… but part of me liked it.

  I sauntered back up to the counter, putting the PBR next to the rest of the beer.

  “Pabst Blue Ribbon? Oh, sweetheart…” The man shook his h
ead. “Whoever you’re shopping for sure as shit has no taste.”

  I gave him a smile with no warmth behind it. “I am but the messenger.”

  “Well, they need to pay the messenger a little better. Or at least teach you the difference between good beer and piss water.”

  Well, color me pissed-off.

  “Let’s take a look at your wine,” I said. “Granted, the selection here isn’t huge, but while Apothic is okay for the price point, it’s not holy water. If you’re going for more bang for your buck, the Sin Zin is much better. And if you can afford the DuShane place, your budget could go for Sterling. So how about you get off your fucking high horse, okay?”

  My new neighbor grinned again. “You know where I live if you get bored with the PBR crowd.”

  I gave the jerk a cold stare. “Cold day in hell, thanks.” I picked up the rest of the beer, turned to leave, then stopped. “And for the record, I’m drinking the Dogfish Head.”

  With that, I stomped outside, brushing past an obscenely expensive silver Porsche 911 Turbo parked in front of the porch.

  “Asshole,” I muttered.

  As I loaded the beer into the back of the Xterra, the hunky asshole exited the store and sauntered over to the Porsche. He got inside and started the car. Then he grinned at me, gave a little salute, and roared out of the parking lot and up the road.

  There goes the neighborhood, I thought.

  APPENDIX

  Lilith Sumerian Incantation Notes—Don’t try this at home!

  Amelatu Abanaskuppatu Tiamatu, ati me peta babka

  Gatekeeper of the threshold of the abyss, open your gate for Me

  Annitu, dalkhu sa ina etuti asbu

  Behold, ye demons who dwell in darkness

  Bu’idu salmu la minam Kurnugi, Erset la tari, La’atzu

  Black Ghosts Without Number from the Netherworld, the Land of No Return, the Spirit World

  Nisme annu nusku! Nisme annu sisitu! Elu ma semu annu kishpu!

  Hear this incantation! Hear this summons! Raise up and obey this spell!

  Uzna sakanu. Pana sakanu. Kima parsi labiruti

  Set the Ear. Set the Face. Treat her in accordance with the ancient rites.

  Lequ annu libbu!

  Take this heart!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  2016—the year I wrote The Spawn of Lilith—was a rough one. My mom lost her fight against cancer in January and I spent the next few months in a haze. I meant to keep a list of everyone who helped me with this book, but I’m pretty sure there are gonna be some gaps here. So… to everyone who helped me get through what was arguably the worst year of my life and to those who shared their knowledge, experience, and time to help me write this book… thank you. If I forgot to mention you here, forgive me. It’s not from lack of gratitude or appreciation. And I know I’ll kick myself when I remember who I forgot.

  First, family and friends who helped keep me sane. Be it from regular infusions of chocolate; care for our animals when we needed to travel; advice and sanity checks when I thought I was losing it; or sharing their grief to help me make sense of my own: Maureen “Dude” Anderson, Jane Thorne Gutierrez, Anne Stevenson, Aldyth & Brad Beltane, Jim Motch & Maureen Zogg, Rebecca Babcock, Owen Hodgson, Charly Kayle, James Robinson, Gail Ferris, Sue Thomas, Ocho, Jessica Bateman, “Trainer Tim”, Chris Martindale, Martha Allard, Chris & Merrilyn Galante, Ben Smith, Julie Lynn, Nikki Guerlain, Lisa Lane, Aimee Hix, Jess Lourey, Casey Fleischer, Jill Brackmann, Jennifer Paynter, and my second dad, Bill Galante.

  Special thanks to my sister Lisa, who helped keep me on track when I thought I couldn’t finish; to Loren Rhoads and Cynthia Badiey for life-saving writing dates; to Janna and Aimee, who sent me socks when I was sad; and to Sara Jo and Jonathan for inspiration, opportunities, and one of the best jobs ever.

  Much gratitude and appreciation to Jonathan Maberry, Charlaine Harris, and Seanan McGuire. You exemplify the meaning of “paying it forward.”

  There’s always a lot of research involved with my books and this time around was no exception. Huge thanks to stuntman Jayson Dumenigo, stuntwoman Alina Andrei, and actress/writer Amber Benson. Each of these three very busy professionals was gracious enough to spend an hour or so each answering many questions by yours truly. Also thanks to Steve Chaloner, Marcy Meyer, Elizabeth Buxton, and Joe McGuinan for research and inspiration for this and other projects.

  Thanks and much affection to Dan’n’Jan’n’Kim, Scott Dawson, and Richard Moore for so many fun years training at the Academy of Theatrical Combat. Hugs to Christopher Villa who started it all with a knife fight at that Ren Faire so many years ago. So many good memories spent with the Duellists (you know who you are) and the Rapier half of Rose & Rapier (lookin’ at you, Brian). Thank you, Jack West, for letting Brian and me join your stunt team on Ninja Nymphs in the 23rd (or 22nd? I can’t remember) Century. And huge hats off to every stunt player over the years who’s risked—and some lost—their lives creating some spectacular stunts.

  Many thanks to Jill Marsal, who is officially my dream agent. I wonder how I ever got by without her and am just so grateful that I don’t have to anymore!

  Continuing appreciation for the amazing people at Titan Books: Nick Landau and Vivian Cheung, Laura Price, Paul Gill, Gary Budden, Lydia Gittins, Katharine Carrol, Hannah Scudamore, and most importantly, Steve “DEO” Saffel, who continues to help me grow as a writer and remains a joy to work with.

  Finally, much love and gratitude for my husband David, who is always willing to brainstorm on the beach and knows just what to bring me home from the library when my inspiration runs dry.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Dana Fredsti is an ex B-movie actress with a background in theatrical combat (a skill she utilized in Army of Darkness as a sword-fighting Deadite and fight captain). Through seven plus years of volunteering at EFBC/FCC, Dana’s been kissed by tigers and had her thumb sucked by an ocelot with nursing issues. She’s addicted to bad movies and any book or film, good or bad, which includes zombies. She’s the author of the Ashley Parker series, touted as Buffy meets The Walking Dead, the zombie noir novella, A Man’s Gotta Eat What a Man’s Gotta Eat, and the cozy noir mystery Murder for Hire: The Peruvian Pigeon. With David Fitzgerald she is the co-author of Time Shards, a new trilogy of time-travel adventures, and she has stories in the V-Wars: Shockwaves and Joe Ledger: Unstoppable anthologies.