Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga)

by Paul E. Cooley

  Ama felt something shift inside. The beast stirred. As her mother raised the hand to strike her, a bolt of something unlike fear coursed through her blood. All the times her mother had struck her, corrected her, shouted at her, flashed in her mind. The beast came forward.

  Hela's taloned hand swung down. Ama screamed as her body transformed. The sand writhed beneath her. Her skin bubbled as its tan color turned to ash. The hand moved closer.

  Ama's arm caught her mother's by the wrist. Talons scraped across Hela's flesh. Blood spurted from the ruined arm. Ama's voice had become inhuman. "Leave. Me. Alone!" she shouted.

  Hela tried to step back as Ama's hand tightened on her wrist. Ama pulled herself upright. Hela's skin bubbled as she began to change. Ama didn't seem to notice. Her free hand slashed sideways and sparks flew as her talons scraped against her mother's hardened skin. Ama's burning eyes cast a dim red glow on Hela's skin. Ama tightened her hand. Hela howled in pain.

  The young nephilim kicked out with her leg and smashed her foot into Hela's knee. There was a crunch and then Hela was falling backward, her screams of pain splitting the night. Ama fell atop her, hands crashing down on Hela's face.

  "Ama!" her mother screamed. "Stop!"

  Ama held a talon next to her mother's crimson eye. Hela's monstrous face was constricted with pain and fear. Ama's beast grinned.

  "No more," she breathed. "You hit no more."

  Hela's look of fear vanished. "I hit whenever I like."

  Ama rolled off her mother as a taloned fist smashed into her face. She summersaulted and rose to her feet. Hela arched her back and then flipped forward.

  They stared at one another. Ama sidestepped. Her mother matched her.

  "Don't ever let your guard down," Hela growled. "Your enemies must die before you do."

  Ama walked forward toward her mother and stopped just out of arm's reach. "You are not my enemy."

  The thing smiled. Saliva dripped from its long canines. "Are you sure?"

  Ama raised her stony arm and stared at her hand. The flesh traded its ashen color for her normal dark brown. She wiggled her human fingers and then held the hand out to her mother. "You are mother. The life giver."

  Hela sneered. "Garaaga is the life giver, little one. I was merely the vessel."

  The young girl's skin faded from stone to brown, her nephilim features retreating. Ama traced the contours of her naked hips. "Vessel," she repeated and looked up at her mother. She was human once more. "One day I will be the vessel."

  Hela nodded. "One day." Her mother walked forward and placed a hand on Ama's shoulder. She wasn't smiling. "If you are a faithful servant, Garaaga will come to you. And you shall know Its touch." Hela pulled back her hand. "Until then, I am your guide. You will obey. And you will learn to protect yourself."

  "Yes, Hela," Ama said.

  The woman nodded. "We will practice this every night until you understand your body and your inner strength." Hela's head transformed. "Now," the thing growled, "let's try again."

  12

  She ran her hands across the open wounds. Her fingers felt the deep grooves in the flesh of her shoulder and came away wet with blood. Tahira, or whatever she was, had scratched her nearly to the bone. Ama hissed in pain as she dabbed a piece of cloth against the bleeding wounds.

  The crowd in the square was still cheering in drunken, rowdy voices. The celebrations would no doubt continue until Sin had set low in the sky and the opposite horizon glowed with dawn.

  Ama dropped the soaked cloth into a reed basket. Blood continued to well from the deep marks. With a sigh, she chose a knife from the cupboard and held it over a burning lamp. After several seconds, the metal glowed a dull red. She gritted her teeth as she placed the burning metal against one of the wounds.

  Blood hissed into steam and she moaned with pain. The burning sensation quickly became a low ache. Panting, Ama returned the blade to the flame. "Two more," she said aloud and repeated the process.

  Once the cat-thing had escaped her home, Ama had cradled a hand against her shoulder. The pain there had turned from white-hot into something more insidious. Tahira's claws had been laced with something like poison. If she hadn't been a child of Garaaga, she surely would have died.

  "And that's what you were counting on," Ama whispered.

  Another predator roamed Ur. Another nephilim? And what of her companions, the bird and the snake?

  Ama finished cauterizing the wounds and returned to her pallet. The straw was wet, although from blood or Tahira's secretions, she wasn't sure. She lay back and focused on the aching in her shoulder.

  If she had been the beast, the claws would have skated across her armored skin. But as a human, they had ripped through her flesh with ease. A predator like Tahira would find little difficulty in dealing with the drunken revelers of Ur.

  The image of the child's ripped and torn corpse floated across her mind. Had Tahira had a part in that?

  Ama gritted her teeth. Last Name Day celebration, several children had gone missing. How many would end up missing this year? Somewhere in the night, Tahira was wandering the city, or perhaps resting in her tent. She'd have to pay the cat-thing a visit.

  Someone knocked at her door.

  Ama rose from the pallet and stepped toward the sound. As she approached the cedar door, her left hand enlarged. The skin silently turned the color of stone. A barely audible whisper accompanied the transformation of her fingers into talons.

  "Hello?" she called out.

  "Ama?" a male voice replied. "It is Fadil."

  Ama let out her breath in a long hiss. She relaxed and her hand immediately returned to flesh. She opened the door.

  The man standing before her was grimy. His once beautiful robes were covered in dirt. The long well-kept beard was curled and knotted. Purple welts and bruises covered the left side of his face.

  "Sir? What happened?"

  Fadil said nothing.

  Ama reached out a hand and took his shoulder. His eyes flipped back up to her. "Come in. Please," she said.

  The merchant stepped through the door on unsteady feet. She guided him to the pallet and sat him down upon the cloth.

  "I've nowhere to go," the man whispered.

  "Where have you been?"

  He shrugged. "Everywhere. I found no trace of my boy in the city. None. I left the gates and wandered the tents, asking questions. Someone must have complained." He tugged at the torn sleeve of his robe. "The King's guard arrested me. I've been in the dungeon."

  Ama placed her hand in his and squeezed. Fadil shuddered at her touch. The man was exhausted.

  "When did you last sleep?"

  "I-- I don't know."

  Ama left the pallet and returned with a clay pitcher. She poured water onto an old shawl and wiped at the filth on the man's cheeks. As she removed the grit and grime, the man's wounds were much more apparent. He'd been savagely beaten and his breathing was labored. She could hear something rattling in his chest.

  She parted his robes. In the lamp's dim light she could see the crimson marks covering his chest.

  "Bastards," she whispered. Ama pulled the robes off his arms and down to the man's waist. "What did the king's guard say?"

  Fadil tried to speak but responded only with a tear.

  Ama stripped the unresponsive man and piled his soiled robes on the dirt floor. Fadil looked wasted, used, spent. The man had obviously not eaten in quite some time. She laid him back on the pallet and sat behind him. She stroked his hair until his breathing became rhythmic.

  She smiled down at him as he uttered a soft snore.

  You will never find your boy, she said to herself. What will you do when you lose all hope?

  The race of man is meant to serve us, Hela had said. They are ours to use as we see fit.

  Ama wondered if the king felt the same about his subjects.

  Fadil's neck had been scraped raw by manacles. Ama had no doubt his wrists were the same. All for wanting to find his son. Her eyes narr
owed in the near darkness. "Injustice," she whispered.

  She could feel the beast inside her. It wanted to smash, destroy, do something with the anger she felt. She could go to the palace and loose Garaaga's shadow. The idea of seeing the king's most powerful men wilt and scream from her visage made her smile. They would wet themselves, shit themselves, when her talons opened their veins and sliced them into ribbons of--

  Fadil moaned in his sleep.

  Ama came back to herself and stared down. The hand stroking his hair had turned to stone and talon. She sucked in a deep breath and focused. Her hand returned to flesh and she sighed.

  She leaned down and sniffed. Sweat. Filth. Sickness. Fadil might perish if she didn't care for him.

  He's a meal, an easy meal, Hela's voice said in her mind. Take him as you should have taken Yusef.

  Her teeth clicked together. "Like Yusef," she whispered.

  Yusef. Brown skin. white teeth. Muscled body. The son of a mason.

  When Ama was certain he was deep in slumber, she shifted off the pallet and headed into the kitchen. She made a small meal of figs, dates, and salted meat. She placed the plate on the stone pedestal near the pallet. If Fadil awoke before her, he would find food.

  She lay back down next to him and pushed her naked body up against his back. He sighed in his sleep. Ama listened to his breathing and soon was sleeping as well.

  13

  The fast river made it difficult to swim, but Ama was enjoying it. She had grown taller than Hela and after all their nights of practice, she'd mastered the art of controlling her physical form. Her ability to swim had also improved.

  She liked to swim. It gave her a reason to leave her mother's company. When trading boats floated down from the northern cities, she waved at the sailors before diving beneath their hulls.

  One morning, she woke early and left the city gates for the river. The cool air made her nipples erect beneath her shawl. Ama walked across the sand beneath the low, bright sun.

  When she reached the bank, she undressed and placed her clothes beneath her favorite olive tree. Raising her arms toward the sky, Ama arched her back and stretched. She held the pose and then bent at the waist and placed her hands on the soft dirt. Her muscles warmed with the effort. With a sigh, she steeled herself and walked into the cold river.

  She shivered as goose pimples rose on her flesh. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and ducked her head beneath the water. She swam down to the silty bottom and rubbed her fingers through it.

  Mother earth. Life-giver. One day I'll be the life-giver.

  Ama kicked out and pushed herself to the surface. The morning air was already warming. She turned over, floated on her back, and let the current take her.

  She listened to the burble of water licking the shore and the splashes of fish turning over in the river. When Hela asked why she visited the river so often, she would only ever say she enjoyed the water. But the real reason was somewhat different.

  While in the river, she could forget the din of the marketplace, the stench of unwashed bodies and garbage, and the ever present stare of Elamite guards. The kingdom disappeared while she communed with Mother Water. And for a time, she could forget Hela's violence as well.

  Voices. Ama opened her eyes and looked to the bank. A group of men were wheeling clay vessels to the river. She flipped over and tread water against the light current.

  The four men were bare-chested and already sweating in the morning air. The youngest of the lot was well-muscled, sun-browned, and beautiful. She watched them as they reached the bank. The young man took one of the urns from the cart and carried it into the river. The others followed suit.

  One after another, the men dipped the urns into the river and filled them. The older men grunted with exertion while the young one did it with ease. She smiled. He carried a full urn back to the cart and exchanged it for an empty. As he turned back to the river his eyes caught hers. He stopped for a second and then a slow, embarrassed smile crept across his face.

  She nodded to him, slipped back beneath the water and swam for shore. When she was close enough for her feet to touch the bottom, she allowed herself to sink and stand. "Hello," she said.

  The young man walked down the river bank with the urn on his shoulder. "Hello."

  They stared at one another for a beat and then Ama giggled. The man raised his eyebrows. His chest was covered in grime, hair streaked with dust. "You look like you need a swim."

  He nodded. "A wash certainly. But swimming?" He shook his head. "I don't know how to do that."

  "Oh, it's easy," Ama said. She pushed off the silty bottom and rested on her back. She felt the man's gaze across her naked body. "You just float. Mother river does the rest."

  The man coughed. "I see." He filled the urn with water. "Perhaps some day you can teach me."

  "Any time," Ama grinned.

  "Yusef! Move your ass!"

  He turned toward his mates and waved. "I have to go." He lifted the filled urn with a small grunt. "I have work to do."

  Ama nodded. The beast stirred and Yusef's eyes went glassy. Ama gritted her teeth and focused. His eyes gradually cleared and he shook his head.

  "Sorry. Must be tired."

  "I am Ama."

  "Yusef."

  "Yusef! We have work! You can eye the mermaid later!"

  The man blushed. "I have to go."

  "Nice to meet you," Ama said. She raised one hand from the water and waved. "Hope to see you again."

  "Me too," he whispered. He turned and carried the urn back to the cart.

  Ama remained on her back, watching the men as they trundled the cart toward the city gates. She focused. "Yusef," she whispered. The young man stumbled as he pushed the cart and then slowly turned back toward her. She waved again and then let go. He smiled at her and returned to pushing the cart.

  Long after they had turned into tiny dots on the horizon, she floated and watched. She had never tried to use the beast before. It had almost used her instead, but she'd managed to control it.

  You will learn how to become one with it, Hela had told her. It is part of you. And you should be part of it.

  She closed her eyes and imagined Yusef's muscular body above hers. A warm tingling began between her thighs and she moaned with it. Gritting her teeth, she flipped over and dove to the river bottom, sure she would see him again.

  14

  The next Market Day, Ama and Hela walked amidst the rabble. The fruit vendors had a good selection of dates and olives, which was rare for the time of year and so late in the afternoon. Usually by midday, most of the fruit and vegetables would be gone except for the poorest of the crop.

  Ama had wanted to go earlier, but Hela was still feeding on a man from the night before. While her mother moaned and sighed through the beaded curtain, Ama had done her best to focus. The tendrils of crimson and yellow that flowed through the partition and into her body warmed her and fed the beast inside. Until she was able to feed herself, Hela would continue bringing a human home nearly every night.

  The young woman had grown used to the ritual, but still felt embarrassed by it. Regardless of how many times Hela told her it was natural to share between mother and daughter, it still seemed wrong. By the time most humans entered their home, any thoughts of morality were beyond them. Hela's beast was always ready to snare and devour.

  When the man finally left their small house, his eyes had been unfocused and vacant. His hair, a raven black the night before, was streaked with silver. Wrinkles had formed at the edges of his eyes. He looked years older than when he had first entered. As they had headed off to the market, Hela had thrown spent lapis stones into the street's garbage heap.

  They had brought two woven baskets for the day's bounty. As Hela dickered with the merchant over the price, Ama scooped dates into her basket. Her mother's was already filled with olives, artisan bread, salted goat, anise, and halloumi.

  "Why is she doing that?" The merchant leaned forward and tapped Ama
on the shoulder. "You haven't paid yet!"

  Hela grinned. Her eyes flashed red. Ama stiffened as she felt the beast stirring in her mother. "We will pay," she whispered. "But you ask too much."

  The merchant's face had gone slack, eyes glassy. "Pay."

  "Yes," Hela agreed. She pulled a single shekel from her shawl and dropped it on the makeshift counter. "Enough?"

  The man didn't look down. His eyes were locked with Hela's.

  "Yes," he said.

  Hela nodded. "You will forget us."

  "I will forget."

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Ama watched a single crimson tendril of smoke escape the man's flesh and waft into Hela's nose.

  "Good bye, kind one," Hela said. She looked down at Ama. "Finish."

  Ama shrugged and scooped the last of the dates into the basket. It was nearly overflowing with fruit.

  Hela handed her daughter the other basket. "Take these back to the house."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I will go for a walk." She stared up at the sun. It was heading toward the other horizon. In a few hours Sin would appear. "I want to walk around while the day is still warm."

  Ama nodded. She turned and made her way through the crowd. Any moment now, the date merchant would come to from his stupor. He might or might not recognize Ama. It was best if she quickly disappeared.

  Walking through the crowd without spilling the contents of the baskets was tricky. She danced between the moving bodies with the baskets always close to her body. She felt eyes follow her every move. Young men could smell her. Old men wanted to touch her. Even women wanted her. The beast inside her skin shuddered with desire.

  Once she reached the street, she was able to slow her pace. There was plenty to fear from the alleys. Thieves often hid behind rubbish piles. If they saw a promising mark, they'd leap from their hiding places to rob and sometimes rape the unsuspecting.

  Her heart raced in her chest as she walked through the curving streets. She knew it was foolish to be afraid, but the feeling of eyes sliding over her body would not leave her. Garaaga's shadow, as she'd come to think of the beast inside, was near the surface of her being, watching, listening, and sniffing the air around her.