Born of Darkness

by Rita Vetere

  Recognizing that an enormous gift had been bestowed on him, he had sought to utilize his new ability to incarnate at every opportunity. In following his compulsion to mate with mortal women, Ahriman had ended up courting disaster. It was in the year eighteen twelve, by mortal counting, that he became obsessed with a woman, returning to her again and again in human form. But the woman had betrayed him. She'd paid the price for her betrayal, but so had he. He'd nearly been destroyed, his spirit remaining dormant for almost two centuries, trapped inside the portal.

  After that close call, whatever tatters of human sentiment he'd clung to ceased to exist. For the past two decades, since his awakening in Morocco, he remained emotionally detached in his seduction of females.

  Yes, he had become god-like; he commanded many dark souls, both in the hidden realm and in the physical world. But Ahriman's ambitions were large. One burning desire remained to be fulfilled. He longed to achieve immortality in the physical plane, incarnate, with his powers intact. And for that, he needed Jasmine.

  To be sure, there were other halflings who walked among mortals, the product of his successful attempts to breed with mortal women. Before he'd become dormant, he managed to produce seven children, all male. His offspring tended to live extremely long lives. Only three of the original seven remained, he'd learned upon his awakening in the twentieth century. All three were now over two centuries old. Seven more offspring had been born since his awakening in the twentieth century.

  But Jasmine was the only halfling capable of giving him what he needed. She was, for reasons unknown to him, the only female Cambion to have survived birth. The only one with whom he could breed. And breeding, he reasoned, was the key to his attaining immortality.

  The mere act of fornicating with a female Cambion had already resulted in increased longevity of his physical state. Whereas in the past, he'd only been able to sustain his physicality for mere minutes, almost five hours had passed since his joining with Jasmine, and still he remained flesh and blood. Producing a child with this halfling, a physical extension of not only his human form, but his spirit, would all but ensure he could choose to remain in the mortal world for as long as he wanted. Forever.

  The ramifications were staggering. Inbreeding would be required, but eventually, he would be able to repopulate the earth with a new race, one over which he, of course, would preside. He would truly become a god, the creator of a new life form, one to be worshipped.

  Ahriman ran his fingers through Jasmine's golden curls. His seed had been planted in her during their coupling tonight. Thinking about the powerful offspring their union would produce filled him with euphoria. He had no doubt his new race would be superior to anything that had walked the earth up until now. Their children would be endowed with power and beauty, a heady combination for mortals, which would aid his offspring in their quick rise to prominence. And they would be made more powerful still by their ability to exist for centuries. Ahriman himself would become an immortal god. And he would have an eternity within which to satisfy his every dark desire.

  He left Jasmine to her slumber. His body gave off none of the warnings that signaled imminent disembodiment, and he felt certain he would be able to remain incarnate for the entire night, thanks to their intense sexual encounter.

  He rose and moved quietly about the house, delighting in his corporeal senses and the accompanying sensations that had lain dormant for so long. How he had missed the mortal world and its transient pleasures. He meandered through the bedrooms and then descended to the main level of the house, getting reacquainted with his senses, with his humanness. It wasn't until he found himself in the kitchen, where he spotted a bowl of fruit, that he realized the rumbling in his midsection represented hunger. He had completely forgotten what it felt like to require nourishment, and found the sensation slightly alarming.

  He devoured several pears, savoring the russet color and rough texture of the skin almost as much as the sweet pulp as it slid down his throat. The familiar taste elicited a clear memory of his home in Persia, and the pear and pomegranate trees that shaded the courtyard. He discovered other delights for his awakened sense of taste—a type of cheese he was unfamiliar with, but which he consumed hungrily, and a crusty bread with bits of black olive and fennel baked into it. The texture was different than he remembered, not as coarse, but tasty nonetheless. With his appetite somewhat under control, he returned to Jasmine. As he walked, he admired the way the muscles in his legs contracted and expanded, delighting in each precise movement of his exquisite mortal body.

  He looked down upon his slumbering queen, knowing he would need to take careful steps to protect Jasmine, to bond with her and ensure her loyalty to him. He brushed his cheek along the softness of her neck, breathing in her unique scent, a scent unlike any other. It was the scent of immortality, and power.

  Just before dawn, she stirred beside him and slowly opened her eyes. Ahriman could feel his state altering, and knew he had only moments left before his transformation back to spirit took place. He wasted no time in pressing his question on her.

  I must leave now, but when night falls, I will return to you. Tell me, for I must know. Will you take your place with me? Will you come to me of your own accord?

  Jasmine regarded him with enraptured eyes. Yes ... return to me. I will be yours, she murmured.

  Satisfied that she was safely ensnared in the web of sensuality he had woven, he watched her eyes close again in sleep. We shall see. He had been betrayed once before. It had resulted in his dormancy for over two hundred years. He had no intention of allowing anything similar to happen again. He would prefer Jasmine to be a willing accomplice in his plan. If not, he had other ways of ensuring her compliance.

  Moments later, he began to disembody, stretching first into layers of fine mist that slowly dissolved, until no trace of him remained.

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  Chapter 14

  When Jasmine opened her eyes, Ahriman was gone. She was naked under the velvet throw cover, disoriented, but wrapped up in a delicious bliss, her thoughts consumed by the powerful shaman who had arrived to claim her. Ahriman. The room was still infused with his heady scent. She whispered his name out loud, touching her lips, remembering the taste of him.

  Dragging the coverlet along behind her, she wandered slowly upstairs. She had no desire to shake off the obsessive emotions consuming her. Stretching out across her bed, she lost herself in the memory of their encounter.

  It was the incessant ringing of the telephone, over an hour later, that finally penetrated her dream-like trance and brought her back to reality. She had not thought of Christopher at all, not until she glanced at the phone and saw his number pop up.

  Guilt pierced the foggy veil hanging over her thoughts, hitting her like a sledgehammer. Christopher—how could she have betrayed him so easily? She did not answer the ringing phone. She needed to think, but her mind was already clouding over again with thoughts of Ahriman, carrying her away from unpleasant reality. She unplugged the telephone, feeling a great need to sleep. She would deal with everything later.

  * * * *

  It was early evening when she next awoke, feeling a bit more clear-headed. The events of the night before had lost the dream-like quality of earlier, but remained powerfully entrenched in her consciousness. Could she have been dreaming, she wondered? Aside from the intoxicating scent which still permeated the air, what proof did she have that Ahriman really existed, and that he was what he claimed to be? The bodily fluids on the inside of her thigh confirmed she'd indeed had sex with someone. But a spirit turned flesh? She decided she needed further evidence before she accepted that to be the truth.

  She found a strand of long black hair on the coverlet. She moved around the house, looking for more clues. In the kitchen, she found some partially eaten fruit and breadcrumbs and, then, in the living room, she saw something that gave her pause. On the floor next to the chaise-lounge, she spotted a small patch of darkish gel. Crouchin
g down, she touched her fingertips to the substance lightly. It was thick, and viscous, and gave off more of the same scent which still permeated the room—Ahriman's scent. She rolled the jelly-like substance between her fingertips, repelled by the gooey texture and the greenish-black color of it. She had no idea what to make of it. Then she remembered something she'd seen on TV, a documentary. Spirits, it had pointed out, created ectoplasm when materializing and dematerializing. Could that be what this was? The thought frightened her, but it rang true. She was able to come up with no other explanation for the dark matter.

  After she cleaned the floor, she returned upstairs, where she quickly showered and dressed. Back downstairs in the kitchen, she put on a pot of coffee. She had a lot to think about and, she knew, a decision to make.

  Jasmine sat at the kitchen table and lit a smoke. She sipped absently from the steaming mug of black coffee in her hand. Somehow, she had to try to incorporate into her reality what had happened.

  Ahriman, she was now convinced, was what he claimed to be—a spirit that could turn to flesh. She also could not deny her connection to him. They could read each other's minds, for one thing. And she had felt his heart beating as if in her own body, had sensed the blood coursing through his veins. Both physically and mentally, she seemed joined to him. If she was what he said she was, a halfling, it raised many questions. Had her mother mated with an incubus, or herself been a succubus? It sounded too incredible, but how else could she have come into being? Having no memory of her mother, and with Aunt Dora gone, there was no one left who might be able to shed some light on the circumstances of her existence. She had grown up believing she was as human as everyone else, but it had all been a lie. She allowed the knowledge to settle into her. She was a halfling, a Cambion. That knowledge went far toward explaining the sense of alienation she had always suffered with.

  But where did all this leave her? Never, not even with Christopher, had she experienced anything like the passion that had consumed her last night with Ahriman. By whatever means, he had enraptured her with a single look. She knew she would be incapable of resisting him when he returned. That much had become apparent last night. Yet, she argued with herself, what would she be getting into with this being who called himself Ahriman? Certainly, he was powerful. And he had told her their union was preordained. Part of her found the prospect of entering his world thrilling beyond imagination, but another part of her was afraid.

  She stubbed out her cigarette and lit another, thinking about all the times she had felt out of her element, the disconnectedness to other people she had always experienced. But she remembered Aunt Dora, too, who had tried so hard to reach her and whose life had been taken, just as Jasmine had begun to love her. And Christopher. For the first time in her life, she had fallen in love, and that was real, too. Part of her did not want to lose what she had found with him. Ahriman represented the unknown within herself needing to be discovered, Christopher the solid foundation in a world that had, up until she'd met him, seemed foreign and confusing. Was being with Ahriman worth leaving the only world she had ever known behind?

  Thinking about Christopher filled her with sadness. She would never be able to explain to him what had happened, or what Ahriman had told her about her true nature, for that matter. Neither would he be able to understand what she had experienced with Ahriman last night. If she tried to hold on to Christopher, they would only end up being a burden to each other.

  And there was another, more important, consideration. During the time she had spent with Ahriman, she had sensed how powerful a being he was. Having claimed her as his own, who knew what he would be capable of if he found out about her attachment to Christopher? She might only end up placing him in danger. The thought appalled her. No, the only way to make sure Christopher would be all right would be to sever her connection with him. Completely.

  It was with a heavy heart, then, that she picked up her ringing cellphone an hour later to see Christopher's number displayed.

  Might as well get it over with. A clean cut is best.

  "Jasmine?"

  "Christopher..."

  "I've been calling all day, I was getting worried. I'm in a meeting, but stepped out to call you. Is everything all right?"

  Her throat seized up. She felt unable to get the words out.

  "Jasmine? What's wrong?"

  She braced herself, knowing how cruel the blow she was about to deliver to him would sound. “Christopher, I've been doing some thinking while you've been away.” She paused for a second and then carried on. “I just don't think it's going to work out between us. I'm sorry."

  The silence on the other end stretched out forever. She waited.

  "What's happened to change your mind?” he asked, finally.

  She didn't answer, unsure of what to say.

  "Is there someone else?” he asked her.

  She paused again before delivering the final blow, knowing he would hate her for it. “No,” she said, “it's nothing like that. I just don't love you, Christopher. I'm sorry."

  She waited, but when he said nothing else, she replaced the receiver gently, knowing full well what she had just thrown away.

  * * * *

  An hour later, she sat at the kitchen table, staring into oblivion and trying to deduce what would happen next. Every time she thought about Ahriman, her feelings ran out of control. Anticipation and desire collided with a fear of the unknown territory she was about to enter with him. He had assured her he would return tonight, and she became tremulous at the thought of being with him again. Mixed into all of this was the nagging pain of having let Christopher go. Had she acted too quickly? What if Ahriman did not return as he had promised? The thought sent dismal emotion running through her. If Ahriman did not return, she had thrown Christopher's love away for nothing.

  With her thoughts running off in all directions, it was no wonder she practically jumped out of the chair when the front doorbell sounded.

  Now what?

  She peeked out from behind the curtain covering the top half of the door, and took a step back in surprise when she recognized the caller. Tom, the man who had helped her on the night she had first seen Ahriman, stood on her doorstep.

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  Chapter 15

  Jasmine's thoughts raced as she tried to decide whether to open the door. The man had appeared to be protecting her from Ahriman on the night of her birthday, yet last night she had embraced the very thing he had been trying to save her from. Who was this man? Why had he shown up at the house after Aunt Dora's funeral? And what did he want from her?

  Her curiosity finally won out, and she opened the door. They stared at each other. He spoke first.

  "Hello, Jasmine.” His expression was serious.

  "Tom, isn't it?"

  "Yes. Tom Janzen."

  "Who are you, Mr. Janzen? I mean, I remember you, and I saw you after Aunt Dora's funeral, but ... Why are you here?"

  As he continued to scrutinize her, he said, “I think we need to talk. May I come in?"

  She hesitated, then opened the door all the way to let him in.

  When they were seated across from each other in the living room with coffee in front of them, she turned to him and said, “Maybe you better tell me what this is about, Mr. Janzen."

  "Call me Tom. And to tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure where to begin."

  "You could start by explaining why you were following me that night. My friend told me you asked where I'd gone. It was no accident, my running into you, was it?"

  "No. No, it wasn't. Still, I...” He ran a hand through his hair, as if at a loss for words.

  Jasmine prompted him. “You were at the house after my Aunt Dora's funeral too. I saw you, but you left before I got a chance to talk to you."

  "Yes. I wanted to speak with you, but after I got here, I realized it wasn't the right time and left. I knew your aunt well, Jasmine. Even though we had a falling out many years ago, I always thought her a fine pe
rson, and I was sorry to learn she'd passed away."

  Jasmine blinked in surprise. “You knew Aunt Dora?"

  He nodded. “Not nearly as well as I knew your mother, though."

  Jasmine was floored. “My mother?"

  "Lilli, yes. You see, before she married Charlie, I was ... Well, I was in love with her, to state it plainly. And forgive me for staring at you before. It's just you look so much like her, it's unnerving."

  Jasmine wasn't sure what to make of the man, but she got the distinct feeling he had something important to say. She pressed a thought on him. What's going on, Mr. Janzen—Tom?

  He jumped back in his seat, almost spilling his coffee, and gave her a startled look. “Did you just do something?"

  Jasmine stared steadily at him. “Yes. Now, what is it you want to tell me?” she asked, hoping she'd shaken him up a little, at least enough to get him to start talking.

  He shot her a look, as if to say she'd just confirmed a suspicion.

  "All right, then,” he said. “To put it simply, I think you might be in serious danger."

  She studied him, remembering the sense of calm she had felt that night when he placed his arm on her shoulder. The fact that he had just repeated the same warning given to her by Aunt Dora before she died and by the strange voice she'd heard was not lost on her either. “Tell me,” she said.

  He took a deep breath and began.

  "As I said, I was in love with your mother, before she met Charlie. When he came along, there was no question but that I'd lost her. Before the year was out, they were married. It wasn't easy for me. I loved your mother very much. When I heard Charlie had died during a trip he and your mother took to Morocco, I thought about going to her, but then I learned she was pregnant. I thought it might be best to wait—it might be too difficult for her if I tried to re-enter her life before she had a chance to adjust to her new circumstances."