The Naphil's Kiss (8 page)

Empty. Josiah closed his eyes, his head falling forward against the wood, his shoulders sagging. He'd forgotten. All the Nephilim had been sent out on a huge mission to eliminate a nest of succubae in Los Angeles. His father was gone. Humiliated, heartbroken, and despairing, he'd been left completely alone.

Chapter 13

Las Vegas 1999

The Assassin crept from shadow to shadow, not as invisible as the Nephilim, but as undetectable as a highly trained human could be. The small figure crouched behind an abandoned blue sedan. The uniform concealing the identity was designed to resemble the ninjas of bygone centuries, but it was white, not black. Only a pair of brown eyes showed above the face mask.

The figure crept out from behind the car in hot pursuit of the heat shimmer which signified a half-angel was on the hunt.

It was not strictly necessary for The Assassin to hide. In this strange town, a person dressed in a white ninja costume would attract very little attention. It would simply be assumed to be part of a stage show or publicity stunt.

Here in the desert, any shimmering on the city streets were dismissed as tricks of the heat, or of the neon lights which altered the environment at all hours.

The Assassin was fairly sure which Naphil was under surveillance tonight. The big black half-angel Lucien had been sent to roust out a nest of succubae who were hidden inside a brothel which masqueraded as a strip club.

Intelligence suggested at least five demonesses were hiding inside the building. It would be a lot for the Naphil to handle alone, and it had been decided that backup was required. He would not be thankful, but the command had been unequivocal.

Arriving at the club, The Assassin slipped through the door, unnoticed by a burly blond-haired bouncer with the bulging muscles. It seemed he had been selected for show more than intelligence or skill.

Inside the dim interior, it was easier to track the shimmer past the dance floor, where three women and a succubus were twisting, half-naked, around poles embedded in the floor and ceiling. The Naphil progressed through a beaded curtain, to a back room where men sat on chairs while naked girls squirmed and twisted on their laps. In the corner, one overweight succubus soaked in the lust. So immersed was she in the spectacle of the lap dancers that she did not recognize the angelic being in front of her until it was too late.

The lights dimmed as the sword, cleverly concealed in the fluorescent lighting, thrust into her bloated belly. A shriek, perceived as the squeal of brakes by mortals, pierced the night.

Without pausing, the Naphil moved on, past a doorway with a sign reading
employees only
. The Assassin sneaked through just as the door swung shut. Inside were five beds. In three of them, succubae were feeding on the lust of men with whom they were copulating. These demonesses were more alert than their friend had been, and they quickly abandoned their prey, converging on three sides of the angel warrior, claws and fangs extended.

The Naphil materialized. As The Assassin had suspected, it was Lucien. His sword flashed, but the wary, serpentine women dodged his parries, ducking in to slash at him while his attention was diverted. It was quickly becoming obvious he would need assistance.

The three men lay on the beds all but dead, drained of their will by the succubae. Lucien and The Assassin had been too late to save them… almost.

Pulling a short knife from the belt of the uniform, The Assassin quickly put the three drones out of their misery with a quick slash across their throats, then approached the continuing battle.

The angel was tiring and so far only one succubus was bleeding. As two engaged him from in front, one sneaked in behind, attempting to hamstring him.

The Assassin flew into action, sliding across the polished wooden floor on soft-soled shoes and thrusting the dagger into the demon woman's spine.

She shrieked as she died, bursting into a fine spray of golden dust, and the other two stopped in their tracks, wondering what had happened.

That pause was all Lucien needed to finish them both.

He then turned towards the small figure before him, his eyes narrowed. “Why are you here, Assassin?”

“I never know the reason, Naphil. I go where I am sent, and do what I can to help.”

“I do not need help from a human.”

The Assassin didn't point out that he was clearly incorrect, at least this time. Enraging a semi-divine being was not a healthy thing to do. “I'll just go then. Good luck, sir.”

The Naphil nodded. The Assassin returned the gesture and muttered the words which would cause relocation.

Eyes closed against the dizzying sensation of such rapid movement, The Assassin shifted. The artificial light of the city gave way to the burning red of the desert. At the edge of the Mojave, a silver travel trailer baked in the sun.

A small, red-haired woman with green eyes climbed down the stairs, a welcoming smile on her face.

“Oh, there you are, my dear.” She wrapped her arms around the figure, “What news?”

“I've been with your Naphil. He's safe, as of two minutes ago.”

“Oh, thank the Creator. And my son?”

“I saw him a week ago. He's angry, conflicted, but well enough.”

“And you, little one?”

“Nothing to signify. Do you have anything for us, Sarahi?”

“Oh yes, so much. Come inside. I'll make you some iced tea and we'll talk. But take off that mask, love. It's much too hot for so heavy a covering.”

Nodding, The Assassin followed the turncoat succubus into the trailer.

***

Josiah aimed a shotgun and fired. Finally he was tall and muscular enough to take the recoil without reacting. His peers had stopped growing years ago, and he'd finally caught up with them. The shot made impact just to the right of the bull's-eye, and fanned out. If that had been a succubus, she'd be dead. Though he had yet to see it himself, the older men said they dissolved in golden dust. He couldn't wait to experience that someday. In a way, he was grateful to the succubae. Because he was allowed to hate them, it took the pressure off everyone else he hated. Josiah pumped the shotgun and fired again, this time imagining Mr. Smith's head on top of the target. Direct hit. Damned old man.

Josiah closed his eyes against a sudden sting. Annie. Sweet Annie. Now forbidden. He'd loved her so much. It had not been his intention, in that meadow, to seduce her. He had only wanted a kiss. But her touch, for the first time, set him on fire in ways he couldn't explain. He could remember, vaguely, willing her to submit. He hadn't meant to hurt her, only to be as close to her as possible.

He opened his eyes and turned to look at the window on the far side of the compound. The elder council's meeting hall. She was there. He could see her mass of milk chocolate curls bouncing as she pulled a musty tome down from a shelf. As she stretched, her slender shape strained her loose blouse. A sizzle of heat shot through his loins. Try though he might, he could not abandon his love for Annie. He desired her beyond sense, beyond reason. Someday, somehow, he would have her. But first he had to prove himself. He returned his attention to the shot-riddled target. Behind him, the trees were in the full bloom of summer. Hot sun beat down on his head, but a cool breeze wafted, bringing the scent of pine drifting over the compound.
Compensate for the wind. Steady yourself. Calm. Slow your breathing and heart rate. Focus
. Josiah's finger squeezed on the trigger.
That's for you again, Mr. Smith, with your damned self-righteous bullshit.
BANG!
And for you, Father. Never listen. You think you know it all
. BANG!
And for you, Mother, whoever you are
. His finger faltered. A rosy haze seemed to be dancing on the breeze.
Peter.
BANG!

***

Through the window, Annie heard the target practice. She hurried over, the book forgotten in her hand. Watching Josiah handle that weapon with such skill was far more interesting than prophecies of the incubus. Even though she was training to be a teacher, later a leader of the elder council, for now she was a young woman. She was more interested in boys than books. And this boy in particular. His bicep bulged as he hefted the shotgun, and several shots exploded from the muzzle in rapid succession. Tattered remnants of paper flapped in the breeze. He had really beaten the hell out of the target. She wondered what he pictured when he shot the gun. All the grand adventures he'd be having once he passed his qualification exams, no doubt.

She wished the day would never come. It was excruciating watching him work, noting a little bead of sweat which rolled down the back of his neck. She smiled. Then her smile faded. Every night, some mad voice in her head urged her to creep down the hall to his bedroom and climb into bed with him, to finish what they'd started in the meadow. She blushed just thinking about it. Other boys had asked her to sit with them at lunch, or to walk with them in the courtyard in the evening. She'd turned them all down. She didn't foresee changing that in the near future.

A clashing sound drew her attention to the far side of the courtyard, where two young men were sparring with blunted daggers. Back before she'd been forbidden
any
contact with Josiah or weapons, she'd been one of the best at hand-to-hand combat. In fact, the excuse for denying her access to the practice field was that her ability discouraged the boys.
Sigh
. While she wanted to remain part of the clerical order and do what she could in the battle they all knew was coming, she had to admit this was a very old-fashioned society.

***

The black fire which barely illuminated the interior of the hive where Lilith resided also put out no heat. Naked demonesses shivered in the corners of the room, their emerald eyes gleaming like lamps as they converted the dim flame into useful illumination. On the bed, the long, pale body of the demon queen writhed. A low moan echoed from her full lips. Then she let out an extended hiss. Beside her a drone screamed. His yell was cut off as her long talons crushed his throat.

“Mother,” a succubus who stood a safe distance from the range of those deadly claws said, “it's time.”

“I know that, idiot,” the demon snarled. “I've done this thousands of times.” She bore down, her fangs grinding together. One long, pointed tooth speared her lower lip and black blood dripped down her chin.

From the foot of the bed, a long-haired woman reached out and scooped up the tiny creature who had just emerged from Lilith's body.

“Hello, sister,” she whispered to the infant, a tiny girl with a wisp of golden hair and glowing green eyes. “Welcome.” She wiped blood from the baby's face and body with a towel and then wrapped the little one in a blanket.

“Well?” Lilith snarled.

“Another fine daughter,” the succubus said hesitantly. Lilith howled in rage and rose to her knees, swiping claws in the direction of her two daughters. The succubus turned to the side, protecting the baby and receiving four deep gouges in her arm. Blood spurted from the wound and the succubus clenched her teeth, but she did not cry out.

“Another girl? Always another girl!” she hissed in disgust. “For centuries I have tried for a son. Why can I not have one? When will the promised incubus arrive?”

“Mother?” A sly voice emerged from the shadows, followed by a golden-haired demoness with a devious expression.

“Yes, Jezebel?” Lilith addressed her most loyal and dangerous daughter.

“Do you suppose we have misunderstood some part of the prophecy?”

“What do you mean?” When Jezebel spoke, Lilith always listened. That Salome knew. She cuddled her newborn sister to her chest and slipped from the end of the bed, withdrawing to a hidden alcove where she could eavesdrop without being seen.

“Just this,” Jezebel replied. “I have seen something which gives me deep suspicion. I went to visit one of the sisters some time ago, and she was holding a child. She said she was seducing his father. But now I wonder. Why would that have been necessary? We succubae have powers and need no such petty tricks.”

“His?” The demon queen's voice was low and dangerous.

“Yes. A baby boy with the most striking green eyes, and then…”

“Go on,” Lilith urged, her forked tongue lapping at her dry lips.

“More recently, when we attacked a family of clerics, they had with them the most amazing boy, with green eyes and a taste…” her own tongue shot out as though sensing the memory of the boy's flavor in the air. “It was like a succubus… but not. He relocated instantly, and we never could find him again. But I couldn't help wondering what he was.”

Salome gulped.

“Why did you not report this to me immediately?” Lilith asked. From her hiding place in the corner, Salome flinched. If Mother had used that tone of voice with anyone else, it would have been a precursor to a swift and bloody death.

“I didn't know what I was seeing. I didn't want to bother you if it turned out to be nothing. Since then, I've been poring over our library.” She waved a clawed hand at a messy jumble of books and scrolls tossed haphazardly in and around several niches carved in the stone wall. “The more I have studied the prophecies, the more convinced I become that it does not refer to you as mother of the creature, but as an ancestor. Just suppose,” Jezebel continued, “the incubus had already been born, not to you but to one of your daughters…”

“Who?” Lilith demanded.

Salome did not wait to hear the answer. Tucking the baby safely into the cradle she'd placed in the alcove centuries ago, she vanished.