Tears of Blood (18 page)

"Why did you come?" Rahab retorted, answering the question
with a question. "Jezebel isn’t here. Neither is Herodias. Those
truly loyal to Mother ignored us. You came. Why?"

"Maybe we’re just curious. Why aren’t you
fighting?"

"Our husbands don’t want us to," Sarahi replied.
"They don’t even know we’re here."

"Husband?" Cali asked, thunderstruck. "How can that
work?"

"They’re nephilim. They’re so deliciously
strong," Jael cooed.

The sixteen succubae on the hillside stared at their sisters.

"That sounds rather like sleeping with the enemy," Cali
said.

"Well, it depends on your definition of enemy," Rahab
replied. "Mother sends you up against men and angels to protect her own
hide. Our men are down there risking themselves to keep us safe. My
husband..." She sobbed. "He died so I could be protected. Tell me
which sounds more like an enemy."

Cali acknowledged the truth of that with a curt nod. "And you
too?"

"Oh yes," Sarahi replied, looking over the battlefield.
"Mine’s the most magnificent one of the bunch. Just look."
She indicated the area where Lilith stood. Before her Lucien’s midnight
skin gleamed with sweat in the desert sun. His muscles bulged as he held his
swords at ready. "My Lucien. Josiah’s father. Isn’t he
glorious?"

"Are you saying we could have... all that?"

"Just imagine," Jael said. "A life without fear,
without..." She waved her hand in Lilith’s direction. "A
husband who loves you. Even a child. It’s all possible, sisters. But
first you need to step out of Lilith’s realm. And take your drones with
you. They’re dying for you, not for her. They don’t care about her.
You know that. She’ll just kill them anyway."

"So what do you want us to do? Fight against her?"

"No," Salome said. "Just leave. Release your drones
and go. Let the men save their strength to deal with her."

Cali looked out across the desert, considering.

***

Lucien blocked the talons of the attacking demoness with his sword, and
then dug his feet into the sand and shoved, managing to push her back enough to
get clear. He whirled to parry another deadly thrust of those terrifying claws.
He wasn’t going to be able to maintain this forever, Annie saw. Lilith
had the advantages of size, strength and outright meanness. Lucien
wouldn’t be able to win. But at this close range, the shotgun was more a
liability than a help. She dropped it to the ground and pulled her .44 Mag from
her hip holster, following the fight from side to side, desperate to get a
clear shot. What had they said? A head shot, sever the spine, or take out the
heart. But all without hitting Lucien.

The movement across the tableau of a low rise before her brought her
vision to Josiah. Her beloved stood by staring, not at the fight, but at her.

Don’t!
she urged him silently.
Don’t be part of
this. Don’t take her side. Walk away, Josiah
.

Then she returned her attention to the fight. Josiah was doing nothing,
so she ignored him.

Lucien rolled to avoid another slash, this one aimed at his throat. His
movement brought him directly to Josiah’s feet. He hopped upright,
looking his son directly in the face.

"No matter what happens," he said, "you are my son
and I love you."

Then he screamed as Lilith grabbed him from behind, sinking a handful
of claws into one side of his back and whirling him around. A slash of her free
hand laid open the angel’s belly, and blood sprayed. She threw him to the
ground.

"No!" Annie screamed.

Lilith hissed at her and crouched over Lucien, mouth opening wide, and
then wider, the jaws hyperextending until the lower rested against her throat,
exposing wicked back-curving fangs.

She poised to strike. Annie moved without thought, racing forward at
top speed, crouching and slamming into the demon with her shoulder. The force
of her momentum was sufficient to knock Lilith off-balance. Quick as a blink,
Annie grabbed Lucien in her arms and muttered the words which caused
relocation, the only shelter she knew firmly fixed in her mind.

The desert shifted in a rainbow as the demoness pounced into the exact
spot where they had been.

The world rematerialized into a decomposing bed in the interior of a
decrepit trailer. Making a frantic plea to Sarahi, Annie ripped off her mask
and pressed the fabric into Lucien’s belly, trying desperately to staunch
the flow of blood and darker fluids. The snowy fabric was instantly drenched.

"Don’t die, Lucien," she begged. "Stay with
me." Even as the words crossed her lips, she knew they were useless. This
was not a survivable injury. The poor angel had been all but eviscerated.

Drawing every ounce of strength she possessed, Annie began feeding
healing energy into Lucien’s wound. First repair the bowel. The leakage
from there could kill in its own right. By the time she had fixed one of the
deep gashes, she was exhausted.

"What happened?" The soft voice spoke in her ear. "Oh
no!" Sarahi scrambled onto the bed and grasped her husband’s hand
in hers. "Can you heal him?"

"I tried," Annie said, panting. "It’s beyond
me. What do I do, Sarahi?"

But Sarahi was not listening. "Lucien, love. Hang on. Don’t
let go."

"Let me go, Sarahi. I’m done."

"No!" she screamed. "Without you, I have no reason to
live. I’ll never let you go."

"Live, love. You have to keep trying to reach Josiah."

"Wait...Josiah!" Sarahi lifted tear-stained eyes to
Annie’s face. "Call Josiah."

"Wha... what? Why?"

"He can give you energy. Only you. Get him here. He can help
you."

Annie inhaled an unsteady breath. "How do I call him?"

"The same way you just called me. Hurry!"

Lucien coughed. A trickle of blood streamed from the corner of his
mouth.

"Josiah!" Annie screamed. Her voice rang across the
dessert. Every person  heard it, and the battle paused as warriors on both
sides wondered what had happened.

Sarahi took up the cry and sent it, straight as an arrow, into her
son’s unguarded heart.

Chapter 21

Josiah stood stiffly on the battlefield, not participating, just watching.
What he had seen so far stunned him. He’d grown up around these nephilim,
these clerics. He had been raised to be one of them. By all rights he should be
there fighting among them now. But here he was, standing beside a demon. How
had his life gotten so far off track? But then, he was as much demon as he was
angel. His mother... he closed his eyes as the image of a beautiful red-haired
woman with a sparkling pink aura danced before him. That had been love. Not
perfect, but real. She’d done the best she could. And Annie. His sweet
Annie, who’d defied her only remaining family member to be with him. That
was love, too, and he'd used and abandoned her. And his father. His imperfect,
stubborn, know-it-all father who’d endured ten years of silent solitary
confinement to be sure he was safe, who’d been separated from his beloved
for two decades. His father had loved him too.

He’d thrown all that away for this. For this. He really must be
the demon. And now his father lay wounded, dying somewhere, slain by this
woman, this monster he’d chosen.  He looked at her. She was sucking
on one long black claw. He shuddered.

Josiah felt sick with grief. Too sick to maintain the shields around
his heart which blocked his mother’s sweet calls to return.

"JOSIAH!" The scream ripped across the desert, and heads,
angel and demon alike, swiveled, searching for the source. But Josiah knew. He
knew where it had come from. He knew who was calling him. No one touched him so
deeply.

"Josiah," Lilith said, reaching out to him claws which
still dripped his father’s blood. He looked at her in deep disgust and
vanished.

The desert faded into the interior of an ancient, ratty travel trailer.
In front of him, on the remains of the bed, Annie sat. The girl glowed with
power as she poured her healing energy into his father, who lay, inert and
bleeding, on the tattered mattress. His mother clutched his hand and wept,
begging him to hold on.

She looked up at the sound of his arrival. "Josiah. Oh, thank
God. Come on. We need your help!"

He shook his head, not understanding. "What can I do?"

"It’s your father," Annie said, "I can’t
heal him. I need you."

"No," he said. The women blinked at him.

"No?" Annie asked, not believing. "What do you mean,
no?"

He shook his head again. "I can’t help. I have no gift of
healing. What can I do? If I tried, I’d probably just finish him off. And
even if I succeeded, I... It wouldn’t be any good."

"What are you saying, son?" Sarahi asked.

"I’ve done too much. I’m evil now, Mother. Look at
me." He trailed his finger through his own aura, highlighting the muddy,
gray color. It had darkened so much.

"Evil?"

He nodded and forced himself to admit the truth. "I’m a
murderer. I killed Peter, and I..."

"I know, son," Sarahi said, her eyes filled with sorrow. I
know. But that doesn’t mean you can't help. Please."

"What do you want me to do? I already told you I don’t know
how to heal."

"You don’t have to," she replied. "Annie does.
But she doesn’t have enough strength. Give her your power, your energy.
She needs it. She doesn’t have enough. You do."

"But my energy is tainted."

From the bed, Lucien groaned in agony.

"Josiah," Annie said, drawing his eyes to her. "I
know you have hard things to face. I get it. But do you really think it will
make it easier if you let your father die?"

A shaft of sheer agony pierced Josiah. Annie had made it clear that if
Josiah didn’t act, Lucien’s death, like Peter’s, would be on
his conscience. He reached out to Annie through the bonds of love and desire
which had bound them since childhood; strengthened in puberty, and cemented in
his bed a few weeks ago. With a wince of sympathy, he fed his muddy, tainted
energy into his beloved. Instantly, the pure white glow of her aura brightened
to a blinding brilliance, like a nuclear blast. Her hands shone like captive
stars. She laid her fingers on Lucien’s wounded belly. The black skin
glowed with an internal luminescence. Annie began to mutter under her breath.

"First repair the lacerations to the bowel." She
concentrated. "Good. Now clear contaminants from the belly. No
infections." There was a flare of light so bright, it burned against
Josiah’s retinas like a flash of ignited magnesium. "Repair the
muscles. And last the skin...."

Annie released Josiah’s energy. It snapped back to him with the force
of rebounding rubber band. He took several steps backward and ran into the
chipped laminate table.

When his vision cleared, he looked back at the scene before him. Annie
had risen from the bed and was walking towards him. Her gait was unsteady, as
though she were slightly drunk. Beyond her, his mother had cuddled up against
his father’s side and had pressed her forehead against his cheek. No
longer groaning, Lucien had wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
They were murmuring unintelligible words. Josiah felt a pang of envy. They were
so sweet together, so very connected. He wondered if he would ever be blessed
with what they had. His gaze returned to Annie. He wanted that with her, but he
didn’t deserve it. Despair quickly turned to rage.

"I’m so glad you came," she said softly.
"I’m so glad you returned to us."

"Who says I’ve returned," he demanded belligerently.

"What?" Annie looked at him, confused. It seemed he could
do nothing other than confound her. "You can’t be serious. That
bitch is the one who did this." She gestured behind her at the bed.
"She nearly killed him. You can’t mean to return to her."

"Well, no," Josiah admitted. "I won’t do that.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fight for the clerics
either."

"Why not?"

"Why would I? What have they ever done for me? Annie, you saw.
They made my every waking minute miserable my whole life. What possible
allegiance do I owe them?"

She took another step, close enough to touch. But she didn’t
touch him. She just pinned him with those irresistible brown eyes and spoke
softly. "You have a point. I won’t deny it. The clerics did not do
right by you, from my grandfather right down the line to Peter. I would hardly
expect you to be loyal to them. But what about to us, Josiah. Look around this
room. Everyone here loves you, has always loved you. Don’t you owe us
your loyalty? Your allegiance? If Lilith wins this fight, being disemboweled
will be the least your father, your mother, and I face."

"You, Annie? Why would she go after you?"

"Don’t be stupid, Josiah. I was your first. Your unlimited
energy, the thing she covets so much, belongs to me. Only I can share it. That
alone will earn me a terrible death. And there are... other reasons."

Josiah lowered his eyebrows, trying to figure out what she meant. He
looked down the line of her body and was startled to see how bright the glow of
her aura was around her belly. He met her eyes.

"I don’t deserve you," he said sadly.

"You don’t," she agreed. "And I intend to make
you suffer and grovel for a long time... after the battle."

"I can’t believe it. I should take you far away from here.
Hide you."

Annie pulled her gun from her belt and waved it casually in his
direction. "Try it," she challenged.

"You wouldn’t shoot me," he said. He hoped she
wouldn’t.

"No," she agreed. "But I’d happily pistol-whip
you into the new millennium. Don’t give me a reason."

He nodded. "Tough chick," he said tenderly.

"Damn straight, boy. Now get your ass out there and help us
fight."

Josiah fell silent, considering.

***

Lilith stepped forward to the shifting edge of the battle, where a
naphil and a drone were locked together in a bone-crushing fistfight. She
couldn’t get a clear shot, so she raked her claws along both of them. The
drone immediately decomposed into dust. That had been an old one. The naphil
howled until she cut off his scream by biting out his throat. She spat the
mouthful of flesh onto the ground. He tasted bad. That Lucien, on the other
hand, had been awfully yummy. No wonder her faithless daughter had been drawn to
him. She moved forward. A succubus stumbled, knocked aside by a heavy blow from
a cleric. Lilith slashed, severing the man’s spine and leaving him
twitching on the ground. Her daughter stared at her with wide-eyed horror.

"You’re welcome," she told the succubus. The girl
turned and fled. Lilith shook her head. What a bunch of weak, useless creatures
she’d birthed. By this point, nearly half had defected, taking their
drones with them. Between that and the heavy losses they’d suffered, the
armies were about equally matched. Soon she would have to step in more
directly. She had no intention of losing this fight. Those ridiculous
half-angels and their friends would learn the cost of teasing the queen of
demons.

A strange sight captured her attention. At the edge of the battlefield,
near a weathered mesquite tree, an old black man stood, muttering prayers and
watching the battle. She stalked over to him, and knew him.

"Hello there, Moses," she said. He jumped, eyes huge.
"Did you forget me?"

He shook his head. "Of course not."

"How is your daughter?"

He gulped, took a deep breath. "She’s dead. You know that.
Your... firstborn killed her, along with her husband and son."

"Ah, yes. My dear Jezebel. My most loyal daughter. She’s
here, now. Did you know?"

"I guessed." Then he muttered under his breath something
which sounded distinctly like, "That bitch."

"What I’ve always wondered, Moses, is how you got away from
me. I’ve never had a drone escape. I thought I would be able to keep
you."

He shook his head. "I woke up one day and realized I had a
choice. I knew what would happen to me if I stayed. I wanted a better life.
Death is preferable to slavery, so I left. That’s all."

"Did you ever miss me?"

He sneered. "You’re a disgusting creature. My poor late
wife, the mother of my daughter, was a hundred times better than you could ever
hope to be."

Lilith laughed. "Trying to earn yourself a quick death, Moses?
Keep dreaming. I plan to enjoy every moment of my revenge when this little
skirmish is over."

With that, she tossed out a net of energy which pinned him against the
weathered tree trunk. "There," she said, tying off the knot.
"Now you can’t sneak away from me again. Be back later,
darling." She blew him a kiss and stalked back to the fighting.

Until this day, the abdication of Moses Smith had been her greatest,
most humiliating, most devastating loss. Worst of all, he had left because he
wanted to. He would pay for her humiliation with centuries of agony. She could
keep him alive to suffer at her hands indefinitely. Knowing he wouldn’t
be able to escape, she considered the skirmishing fighters, trying to decide
whom to kill next.

A petite, red-haired figure stepped in front of her.

"Hello, Mother."

Lilith raised her eyebrows. "Sarahi? I didn’t expect to see
you here."

"You should have expected it. You tried to kill my
husband."

"Tried?" She laughed. "I did kill him. He may not
realize it yet, but there’s no coming back from a wound like that. I
don’t blame you for going to him, though. He was delicious." She
licked one of her claws with a long stoke of her forked tongue. Sarahi hissed
in fury. Her own pale pink nails lengthened into rigid spikes. Fangs extended
past her lips.

"Come on, you useless lump of flesh. Let’s get this over
with." Lilith slashed out fast, but Sarahi dodged. Lilith blinked. She
was unused to her daughters avoiding a blow. Even a killing blow. "Stop
that, you twit. If you fight me, I’ll only kill you slower."

"No," Sarahi replied coolly, "you cannot have my
husband. You cannot have my son. I’ll fight for them both."

Lilith shrugged. "You can fight, but you’ll lose."

She struck out again, cobra fast, and again connected only with empty
air. "Quit squirming, slut."