Tears of Blood (9 page)

"Go on," Lilith urged,
her bifurcated tongue tasting her dry lips.

"Then more recently, when we
attacked a family of clerics on vacation, they had with them the most amazing
boy, with green eyes and a taste..." her own tongue shot out as though
sensing the air in memory of the boy’s flavor. "It was like a
succubus... but not. Words can’t express. 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 beside them. "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 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 that
alcove centuries ago, she vanished.

***

Josiah sat upright in bed, panting.
The darkness of the boys’ dormitory pressed in on him like a physical
touch. What on earth was wrong? He felt... dirty. As though something
disgusting had touched him. Had he been dreaming? He took a slow deep breath
and tried to remember. At first, the dream had been pleasant. The recurring
image he’d had since early childhood. A touchably soft female figure in a
soothing shade of pale rose, who glittered like sunlight on water, if water was
pink, wrapped warm arms around him and sang. He loved those dreams. They always
left him feeling great. But this time it had changed. The pink figure had
turned poisonous green and become snake-like. Cool scaly coils had replaced
embracing arms, and a forked tongue had whispered scandalous suggestions in his
ear before licking every inch of his body. Josiah gagged. What was wrong with
him? Why had he dreamed that? He shuddered in disgust despite the arousal which
still pounded through his body.

***

Sarahi stretched out under the orange sheet and buried her nose in the
soft cotton. Twenty years since Lucien had been in this bed with her, and she
still liked to pretend she could smell him there. She had hoped, after so long,
her desire for him would fade and she would adjust to being alone again. She
hadn’t. The knowledge that her lover and her son were out there somewhere
preyed constantly on her mind. She burrowed deeper under the sheets. In the
evening, temperatures dropped significantly, and she was actually cold. If only
Lucien was here, his warm arms around her, his big body cradling hers in the
darkness as they rested, sated and happy. And Josiah. Her son was a man now, no
longer a baby. She’d watched over him all these years, in his dreams. She
knew how he’d grown, at last, to his full height. He hadn’t quite
matched his father, but was tall by human standards, with broad shoulders, but
skinny, gangly everywhere else. He looked more like an adolescent than an
adult, which surprised her. Succubae reached maturity in their early teens.

Sarahi let her eyes slide closed. She needed rest. She couldn’t
afford to become exhausted. Too much rested on her ability to stay sharp. And
maybe in sleep she could visit Josiah again. Sometimes lately he’d been
resisting her presence in his dreams.

Sarahi reached out with her senses, far to the north, where winter
reigned around a pile of white stones on a hilly prairie between pine trees.

Bang! Bang!

Sarahi jumped from the bed. Who could be at her door? For a mad moment,
as she crossed the tiny length of the travel trailer, she dared hope her dark
warrior would be there. Hope died as the flare of light from the dim bulb above
the entrance revealed her sister Salome, black hair wreathed the medium brown
skin of her naked body. Of all her sisters, this was one of the few she
trusted... a little. All were loyal to Lilith, and therefore all were suspect,
but Salome had some small affection for Sarahi, and had helped keep her out of
trouble a time or two. That bought her a tiny amount of leeway.

"Welcome, sister," Sarahi said warmly, indicating the
interior of her trailer.

"No time. Sarahi, you have to get out of here now. Mother knows.
She knows about your baby. She knows you betrayed her. She wants your head. Do
you have somewhere you can go to hide? All the succubae and drones will be
after you.

Sarahi’s stomach clenched. While she did not fear destruction,
the death her mother would dish out to her was certain to be slow, agonizing
and hideous. But where could she go? What could she do? Was there a place on
earth safe from Lilith’s minions? If so, she would never find it, not with
all the hosts of darkness at Lilith’s disposal.

Stunned, Sarahi sank to the floor. The best thing for her to do would
be to end her existence herself, quickly, before they could find her. Her heart
cried out at that. Never to see Lucien again, not even to say goodbye. Never to
hold her son. Despair too deep for tears rolled over her and she wrapped her
arms around her knees and rocked.

"Sarahi, stop that! You have to go!"

"Where will I go?" she asked, her voice flat and tired.
"There’s nowhere. It’s over, Salome. Thank you for telling
me. Now get out of here before she adds you to my punishment."

"You can’t just give up!" Salome urged. "You
have to keep trying. Please, Sarahi. You give me so much hope."

"Forget hope. We are damned creatures. There is no hope."

"You mustn’t say such things," a new, fierce voice
spoke from the doorway. Sarahi looked up to see the white costume of The
Assassin framed in the cheap aluminum.

"I know you," Salome said, her narrowed eyes fixed on the
slender figure.

"Of course you do. I’ve spared your miserable existence
more than once, demon."

"Well, if you care anything for Sarahi, help me get her out of
here. Do you know a place where she can hide?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Help me lift her."

Two sets of arms wrapped around Sarahi’s torso and hauled her to
her feet. Then the white-clad Assassin muttered a series of words in a language
she couldn’t understand and the world dissolved in a swirl of
rainbow-colored light.

Chapter 14

Three months
later

Lucien stalked into the compound. He’d been gone almost two
months ferreting out a massive cell of succubae and drones in Atlantic City.
The battle had been one of the most horrific he’d ever seen. Even with
the combined efforts of the seven nephilim, four young clerics, and The Assassin,
it had taken everything they had to be rid of those damned snake-women. If one
of the drones hadn’t turned on his succubus, all might have been lost.

Miraculously, the entire group had survived the battle, but they were
far from unscathed. Peter, the youngest of the clerics, had been hit hard over
the head. The medics feared a concussion. They’d be keeping him
overnight. Jim, a stout cleric on his last mission, had broken his arm. It was
already set and bandaged, and the wiry, graying soldier wanted nothing more
than to take some heavy-duty pain pills and sleep. The rest of them were all
marred with bruises and scratches, many of which had required stitches. Lucien
himself felt exhausted, as though he’d been bled out.

Inside the compound, the warriors were instantly on alert. Jonas pulled
his sword from its sheath with a resounding ring as he scented the air, eyes
narrowed in concentration. Lucien inhaled and a familiar tang touched his
tongue. Like a woman, but stronger, sweeter, more intense. He knew that smell
all too well. He slipped out the slender blades strapped to his back. The
clerics, reacting to the nephilim's actions, pulled their guns.

"What?" Mr. Smith asked, taking them down the hall to the
conference room for a short debriefing. At least, Lucien hoped it would be
short. He wanted sleep more than he wanted to talk.

"Mr. Smith," Jonas said, placing his hand on the head
elder’s arm, "it feels like... can it be... is there a succubus in
the compound?"

Mr. Smith sighed. "Yes, friends. There is. She came to us three
months ago, begging for sanctuary. And she’s been providing us with
information about the hive. She isn’t harming anyone."

"What is she eating?" Lucien asked, earning him puzzled
stares from nephilim and clerics alike. Oh, that’s right, he hadn’t
shared that bit of information with everyone. "Succubae do not seduce
merely to gain power. It is how they feed," he said succinctly.

Mr. Smith nodded. "That’s right. She promised not to...
seduce anyone, and thus far she has not. I have no idea how she’s
sustaining herself, but there have been no complaints. Try not to kill her,
gentlemen. She’s our best source of inside information about our
enemy."

"If you can trust her," Jonas said, resheathing his sword
grumpily. "The way I feel, she’d better stay out of my way if she
wants to live."

The others nodded in agreement and Mr. Smith opened the door of the
conference room, indicating they should enter.

***

Lucien rolled over in the bathtub and groaned as the hot water hit
another scrape. What was wrong with him that he was losing his focus? How long
had it been since he could hold his own against a dozen succubae or drones and
walk away without a scratch? Was he getting old? No. Nephilim stopped aging at
around sixty years, the human equivalent of thirty or so. He should remain in
his prime indefinitely unless he was killed. So what was going on?

It was like in the last... ten years, since he had been released from
the monastery, he hadn’t cared if he lived or died. But that was stupid.
He had so much to live for. Josiah had finally reached adult size and joined
the ranks of the clerics, though the eager boy seemed to have given way to a
sullen, joyless young man. Lucien had no idea how to reach him. And the time he
spent tracking down nests of succubae meant less time to spend with his son. He
knew Josiah resented his absence, but what else could he do? He’d arrived
late the previous night and fallen into an exhausted slumber, only to awaken
stiff and sore.

So now he was stretched out in this bath. As usual, his mind wandered
to Sarahi. What was she doing? Was she still alive? He’d heard nothing
one way or the other. No reason to think he would. He’d been back to her
trailer several times since being released from the monastery. He never approached,
just stood nearby watching over her, inhaling her fragrance on the wind.
Several times she’d been joined by a strange warrior in a white uniform.
Lucien ground his teeth, fiercely reminding himself that she needed to feed.
But his stomach turned at the thought of her lying under another man. Year
after desperate, lonely year he’d suffered in deprivation. Yet he knew
what she was. He could survive forever without sex. She couldn’t.

Savoring the cooling water one last moment, he rose, rivulets running
down his bulging muscles, his scarred skin. Just the thought of his lady had
brought him to raging, aching fullness. He considered taking care of it, but as
the cold air hit him, the problem resolved quickly. He pulled on a pair of
black jeans and a matching sweater, only slightly darker than his own skin, and
looked in the mirror. He looked like shades of midnight brought to life. His
shaved head gleamed under the glow of the light bulb above the sink. His eyes
glittered. He had a new scar, one which angled across his forehead, down his
nose, and cut into one cheek. It had been a nasty injury, one which had almost
claimed him. This was not the worst possible outcome. Shrugging at his
reflection, he left the bathroom, left the nephilim dormitory, and headed down
the hallway to the council chamber. The elders would be waiting for his latest
report.

***

Sarahi leaned against the door of an apartment. Inside, a couple was
kissing in anticipation of making love. She could feel their rising desire. Not
lust. This was different. Cleaner. There was no guilt associated with their
coupling. No dirty thoughts. The woman sighed, and then giggled. Sarahi’s
superhuman hearing could perceive the soft rustle as they undressed. They would
be embarrassed if they knew she was there. No one realized, in the month
she’d been here, what she was. No one but the elder council. And they had
cautiously agreed to this on the condition no one be harmed. Rather than taking
a full feeding from a single couple every six weeks or so, she snacked about
once a week, never taking more than the people could afford to lose. She
sighed. A soft moan filtered through the door and the energy level rose. She
knew them. Young and sweet, they’d been married less than a year.
Recently enough that they wanted to sneak off during the morning break for a
private moment.

Sarahi could remember the sweetness of love. She closed her eyes and
imagined herself stretched out on the bed with Lucien’s beautiful body
pressed on top of her. She reached out with her senses. He’d been in this
place. She could smell his scent, could feel his energy. She could almost taste
him. She inhaled deeply and the sense of him grew stronger... and stronger.
Sarahi’s eyes flew open just in time to see a tall figure striding down
the hallway.

Her jaw sagged. His eyes fell on hers and he stopped in amazement.

"Sarahi?"

"Lucien." She took a hesitant step in his direction, then
stopped, too shy to move on.

"What... why... what are you doing here?"

"Hiding," she replied, letting her auburn lashes fall over
her eyes.

"From what?"

"From Mother. She found out...everything."

He took a step towards her, close enough to touch. But he didn’t
touch. He looked, and she looked back.

"You are the succubus who sought sanctuary with the clerics? Am I
dreaming?" he said at last.

"If you are, I’m having the same dream," she replied.

Outside, a cloud rolled away from the sun, and the shaft of light
falling through the windows illuminated a line which slanted diagonally across
his face. Sarahi caught her breath. An inch deeper and he’d be dead. She
reached out and trailed one hesitant finger along the ragged scar, her lip
trembling, her hand unsteady.

At last he moved, faster than even her eyes could perceive, enfolding
her in his arms and lowering his mouth to hers for a kiss of devastating power.
He kissed her so hard it hurt, his lips mashing hers. She threw her arms around
his neck and all but strangled him.

"Oh, my love," he murmured against her mouth.

"Lucien. How I’ve missed you."

Away around the corner, soft footsteps sounded.

"Come on, darling," she said, slipping from his embrace and
taking his hand. Like children they ran down the hallway to her room. Well,
really, it was an unused storage closet. Most adults shared. But they
didn’t want her sharing. So they’d cleaned out this windowless
10’ by 12’ foot space and tossed a twin bed in it. And it was to
that bed which Sarahi led her lover. They tumbled to the mattress, making the
springs whine in protest. There was no room to lie side by side, so Sarahi pushed
Lucien to his back and straddled him, her long skirt bunching up over her
thighs. She took his face in her hands and lowered her lips to his again. This
time the kiss was less painful, though no less intense. Twenty years of
separation flowed between them.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I you," he agreed, lifting her loose white blouse over
her head. His hands went to her hips, holding her still and upright on his
belly. Her soft pale skin blushed with desire. She reached behind her and
unhooked her bra, baring her luscious breasts to his gaze, to his touch. This
time he didn’t need to be urged. He grasped one full mound in each hand,
enjoying the sensation of hard, erect nipples in his palms.

Then he urged her down over him again so he could suckle her there.

"Ahhh," Sarahi sighed as his clean, fresh-tasting desire
flowed down her, filling her belly and moistening her sex at the same time. She
tried to reach between their bodies and unfasten his jeans, but couldn’t.

"Let me up, love," she urged.

"What? Why?" His voice was dark with desire.

"I want to undress. I want you to. Show me that beautiful body,
Lucien."

He released her and she rose, opening the tie of her skirt so the
fabric pooled around her feet. In a pair of lace panties she stayed still watching
as Lucien stood and stripped off his shirt and jeans. He held out one hand to
her and she stepped close. He enfolded her in his arms. Sarahi felt safe for
the first time in twenty years. This time when she slipped her arms around his
neck and drew him down, it was for a delicate, sophisticated kiss.

How long they stood mostly nude in each other’s arms, neither was
sure, but they took their time savoring the moment.

At last Sarahi could wait no longer. Her hunger was sated, but her
desire was flaring out of control.

"Now, Lucien. I need you now!" she begged.

"Yes, love, I know." His hands went to her waist, skimming
the scrap of lace to the floor and leading her back to the bed. She urged him
down and straddled his narrow hips. There was just enough clearance on either
side of him for her knees. He guided her, one hand on her hip, the other
holding his erection into position and she sank down, taking him deep.

"Oh! Oh!" she gasped, her head falling back. Sunset hair
swept his legs. He still, always, filled her like no other.  And now he
was urging her to move, to ride him. She took over the movements, thrusting her
body around his massive shaft. His hands went back to her breasts, toying with
her nipples, pinching gently.

Reunion sex, she reflected in the tiny part of her brain which was
still functioning rationally, was bound to be quick. And this time was no
exception. Already her body was clenching on the brink of orgasm. She wanted
it, but not yet... no, not yet...

"Oh yes!" she wailed as pleasure wracked her. Her body
writhed, sinuous  and serpentine as pleasure rolled over and over her.
Lucien grasped her, stilling her wild movements so he could drive up into her
again and again. Each hard thrust brought her a new wave of exquisite spasms,
and he held her still and made her take it all, every thrust, every inch, until
even her wails of ecstasy fractured into whimpering sobs.

Lucien drove deep once more and froze, groaning. Sarahi felt the flood
of burning liquid in her depths. They poised, trapped at the apex of pleasure
for a long moment. And then, at last, their bodies relaxed slowly until Sarahi
was lying on Lucien’s chest, her head on his shoulder, his big hands on
her back.