My mind was reeling. I blinked and six of her manservants surrounded me. I looked at her somber and determined face and knew she would have her way, so I followed her servants.
They led me to a corral crowded with goats, where I drank more than my share of blood. Artemisia’s servants then escorted me to the edge of the city and pointed me in the right direction. I was on my way to find the silver-haired oracle.
Thoughts of Princess Aini would accompany me as I traveled. She would live in my mind, and her laugh, smile, kisses, and scent would be my motivating force.
Chronicles of Lilith – 8
I arrived at the Persian Kingdom and immediately sought after Artemisia. She was the granddaughter of one of my many demon servants, but I saw greatness in her, which sorely lacked in her demon grandfather. He was a reckless fool who slaughtered his entire family.
Artemisia managed to kill him and escape the slaughter. She lived on the streets when I came across her. She was eleven years old and already lethal. After being beaten and raped many times, she learned how to defend herself. When she was sold to a fat, old pig farmer as a sex slave, she allowed him to live long enough for her to learn how to forge his handwriting and signature. Then one night, while he slept, she opened him from chest to groin and fed him piece by piece to his pigs, until there was nothing left of him. She took over his house and servants—at least for a while.
Artemisia was an empty vessel, the type of being easily manipulated and possessed by me, or so I thought. When I recruited her I found many ways to fill her void. Yes, there was much potential in her. Now she was the Persian king’s highest-ranking advisor and Grand Admiral and leader of the Persian Fleet. She was the most powerful person in Persia barring the king, and she lived like a queen. I had taught her well. If anyone knew if strangers had arrived in Persia, it would be Artemisia.
Her servants took me to the harbor, where I boarded a long, wooden ship with an immense sail and mast. The docked craft was highly decorated with painted eyes and figureheads, various ornaments, and a bronze-clad ram at the front.
I met Artemisia aboard the top deck. Luxurious fabrics created a tentlike room. Within the space there was a round table draped in splendid tablecloths, and Artemisia sat in one of the throne-style chairs surrounding it.
When she saw me, she rose to her feet and bowed her head. “Please make yourself comfortable,” she said, gesturing to several servants. “Bring food and drink. Only the finest will do for our honored guest.”
I smiled as I sank into one of the comfortable chairs and looked around. “This is the most luxurious ship I have ever boarded.”
“It is Gremory’s design, and if you wish it so, it is yours. All that I have is yours for the taking,” she said, gazing at me like a puppy eager to please its master. “I am yours too, for without you I would not exist.” Once more she tipped her head in a reverent bow.
I scrutinized her as I leaned back in the chair. “Raise your head. You were doing fine without me when I found you.”
She shook her head, frowning. “I was merely surviving. You made me strong and helped me realize my true potential. None of this—” she said, demonstrating the valuables around them with her hands. “None of it would be without you.”
I looked around the deck again. There were many luxurious objects fashioned from precious metals decorated with royal imagery. I spotted a wooden statue in my likeness located above the bronze ram at the front of the ship. On the table, there were deep bowls crammed with apples, pears, and pomegranates. Seasoned vegetables occupied footed plates, and elaborate drinking vessels ending in animal forms were filled with wine. “You may keep everything, for you have earned it. I simply require information.”
“Ask me anything.”
“I am looking for a stranger. A young, handsome man with long, dark hair, alabaster skin, and the bluest eyes—eyes like newly bloomed bluebells or a perfect cloudless sky. Staring into those eyes would make your blood dance.”
Artemisia straightened her back while crossing her arms. “I have seen such a man. He arrived in Persia last night. He does not travel alone. A woman with wild blonde curls and deep-set dark eyes travels with him. I offered them board in my house.”
So Gadreel travels with him. She has been careful to evade me until now, but I cannot be bothered with her at the moment. For now, my priority is the stranger.
“What is the male called?” I asked.
“His name is Prometheus.” The corners of her lips turned up.
“What is the matter with your face? You smile like someone who expects to get slapped.” I narrowed my eyes. “Oh no!” I slapped my thigh, shaking with laughter. “You wanted him for yourself.”
Artemisia squirmed in her seat. “How was I to know you had interest in him?” she said, squinting in a furtive manner and plucking at the tablecloth.
“You are well-informed now.”
She shrank back. “Yes.”
“I shall need to borrow something from you, Artemisia,” I said.
“Of course, anything you need,” she said while patting her thick curls. “What can I get for you? I will have my servants fetch it for you at once.”
“There is no need to call on your servants, for what I need is sitting before me.”
“Me?” For a while she said nothing, just stared at me blankly while chewing the inside of her mouth. Then she finally spoke. “Of course. I am always at your service. I would do anything for you.”
“Good.” I glanced at her trembling hands and then looked into her eyes. “That is what I like to hear.”
She continued to stare, her face twitching.
“Oh, do not look so cheerless. Your usual smile is dazzling, revealing the bronze glow at your cheeks. Where is that smile?” Clapping my hands, I laughed again, enjoying the many emotions flittering across her beautiful features.
Artemisia lowered her eyes.
“I shall possess you for a time, that is all,” I said in a dispassionate manner, licking my lips.
“Possess me?” she said, cringing. “I have heard the person whose body you possess suffers great pain.”
I rose from my seat, ambling casually around behind her, and placed my hands on her shoulders. “There are times in our lives when sacrifices must be made.” I brought my head down and whispered in her ear. “This is how you prove your loyalty to me.” I stood straight and walked back to my seat.
Shoulders hunching and looking like I just kicked her in the gut, she prepared to speak.
“If–if this is what you require of me, then so be it,” she said, her voice soft and brittle.
I grinned. “Excellent! Do not fret. I shall only possess you long enough to get the information I require. You see, I need to observe the stranger for a while without him detecting me. I shall reward your loyalty when it is done, and you will become stronger for it.”
She looked away, delicately pinching the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes.
I stood and moved toward her again. “Come, let us embrace.”
She got to her feet and embraced me. Her body trembled against mine. I pulled her closer—and in an instant, I drew breath through her nostrils and saw the world through her eyes.
Chapter 17
AURORA
Artemisia did not give me a chance to say farewell to the princess, but she assured me she would speak to her as soon as possible to explain the reasons I have gone on this quest. Once I present the king with chests filled with treasures, he will have no choice but to allow Princess Aini and I to wed.
I had to travel north to the Caspian Sea, for the silver-haired oracle was last seen in a remote town near this area. It was a long journey. I traveled by night. I shifted to my red fiend form to fly across the blackened skies undetected. During the day I walked and rested when the sun was high in the sky. I also took this time to eat, bathe, and refresh in cool rivers and lakes within wooded areas.
Princess Aini occupied my mind almost every moment. I thoug
ht about how happy we would be once we were married and our love consummated. Day and night my head was filled with images and sounds of her. Every time a rose caught my eye, I smiled and thought of her. Birds singing, children playing, floral scents in the air—little did not remind me of the princess. If this is not love which consumes me, I do not know what it could be. I missed her and already grew anxious to hurry back to her arms.
I wondered how Aini took the news of my departure. Did she cry and fret for me, or did she smile, thinking I was courageous and knowing I did this for her—for our love? I was sure she did a bit of both.
My journey went well, for the most part. The Persian people were kind to strangers, and most days I was offered a place to rest, food, and water. There were also many wooded areas filled with crystalline rivers and plenty of edible delights.
Several days into my journey I came across a group of women. They huddled together, weeping. I focused on them, my curiosity increasing like a leopard fixated on its prey. They sauntered along the path and I followed, remaining hidden. They walked and cried; it did not make sense to me. I scanned the area and saw nothing to make one shed tears. Giving in to wonder, I stepped out of the shadows.
“Why do you weep?” I tilted my head and observed them through eyes narrowed by curiosity. “Has there been a tragedy?”
A short, gray-haired woman with a slight hump on her back approached me. The others followed close behind. She glanced up at me with pity in her eyes. “There has been no tragedy yet, my son. This is no place for a young man to visit, especially today.”
“You cry in anticipation that something bad may happen?”
The old woman shook her head. “We weep for our sons, brothers, and husbands, for many will die before a new day comes.”
“How will this come to pass?” I asked.
The woman’s forehead creased with concern and she turned away, weeping and waving her hand, as if my question was too difficult for her to answer. The other women followed her, all except a young girl.
She came closer, taking short, shy steps. “I can tell you why we weep for the men in our village.”
I got down on one knee, so we may be at eye level. “Tell me,” I said.
The little girl’s face was etched with fear, but it was not me who terrified her. She swallowed hard and began to tell me what frightened them so. “There once was a beautiful woman from a wealthy family who fell in love with a sheepherder from our village. The sheepherder was poor, but he loved her and made her happy. The woman’s father did not approve of him and had him killed. Her father then forced his daughter into an arranged marriage with a rich merchant who treated her dreadfully. In time, she took her own life. This happened many seasons ago.”
Taking the girl’s hands in mine I furrowed my brow, and shrugged. “That is a tragic story. It is unfortunate what happened to the wretched girl and her lover, but what has this to do with what happens here to the men? Why do the women fear and weep for them?”
“You did not allow me to finish.” Disapproval gleamed in her hazel eyes. She pulled her hands from mine with a scowl, which seemed incongruous on her face of many freckles.
“Apologies. I can sometimes be impatient. Please continue.”
“The young woman’s father buried her there.” She pointed to a nearby mountain. “One night she rose from her grave and came down to the valley to seek revenge on her father and her husband. She drank their blood, sucked them dry, leaving their grotesque, pale bodies lying in a limp mass on the ground. Since then, she rises once a year. She comes down from the mountain and uses her enchanted beauty to lure men to their deaths.”
My face contorted as I tried not to laugh. “This is a tale spun by women to keep their men faithful.”
The girl frowned and her cheeks flushed. “I speak the truth, for twice I have seen the pale corpses of men she has drained. One of these corpses was my father,” she said as she turned away.
“Wait!” She seemed too genuine to be lying. “Apologies, little one,” I said. “Do all the people of this town believe this?” She nodded. “I want to help you.”
“I do not need your help. The men need your help,” she said, as she turned to leave. “Today she rises and comes down from the mountain. She has powers over the men. They cannot resist her. Many will die.” She whispered the last three words and walked away.
Every part of me sensed this girl spoke the truth. Still, her story was inconceivable. No one rises from the dead—not without divine intervention. Why would God raise from the dead a killer of innocent men? Unless… a godlike creature has done this. Lilith.
I had avoided thinking of her since I met Aini. This had to be her doing.
I ran to catch up to the weeping women. “Has a woman named Lilith visited here? She is a powerful healer but demands a great price for her deeds. She is tall, with long, dark hair and her eyes are—”
“One blue like the twilight sky and one a rich brown like a hazelnut,” the gray-haired, hunched woman said.
“Yes, yes, it is she! So she has been here.” I should have known she was behind this horror.
The woman approached me. “Lilith visited many moons ago. Everyone knew what she was soon after she arrived, but yet many sought her strange powers, desperate to find a cure for a loved one. Like you said, they paid a weighty price for her remedies. My neighbor’s daughter was covered in leprosy and dying a slow, agonizing death. She decided to ask Lilith for a cure,” she said, her face gloomy as she wrung her hands. “I warned her against it. I told her about others I have known who relied on Lilith’s healing methods and the sacrifices they had to make. She did not listen. Lilith healed her daughter. The girl emerged from her deathbed completely cured and healthier and more beautiful than she had ever been. As payment, my neighbor had to walk unclothed to the middle of town, pour pitch over her entire body, and light herself on fire.” She clutched her chest, taking quick, shallow breaths. “Some nights,” she continued, “I can still hear her agonizing screams. Such was the payment for Lilith’s—the demon-witch’s cures. It is believed these self-sacrifices make Lilith more powerful. Despite this, many flocked to take their sick loved ones to her, willing to sacrifice themselves for them.”
The woman seemed to wilt before my eyes as she told the story. My shoulders dropped and a sigh escaped my lips as she continued.
“Lilith was acquainted with the young woman who now rises from the grave as the undead. The girl recognized Lilith for what she was, although her father, bewitched and blinded by lust, did not. Lilith was not fond of the girl and wanted her gone, far away where she would not interfere with her plans for her father and our village. It was by her suggestion that the girl was forced into an arranged marriage. She persuaded the merchant to marry the girl and take her with him when he left, and then she convinced the father that the man was the perfect match for his daughter.
“Lilith was present when the girl died. She went up to the mountain with the girl’s father to bury her and stayed at the grave long after everyone else had come down. The demon-witch departed our village soon after the father was killed by his undead daughter.”
It took awhile for me to react to the woman’s story. I was at a loss for words. I knew my mother was powerful, and I had heard stories of her dark magic, but this was difficult to believe. Everywhere my mother went she left behind fear and mayhem. How could I have forgotten the pain she causes?
Princess Aini came to mind and the same thoughts rose to defend my actions. I cannot save every person. It is the archangels’ responsibility to care for God’s creations. People should rely on God to save them instead of relying on an evil witch. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to be loved. Lilith is not my problem. Still, it bothered me. Thoughts of Aini’s smile, laugh, and caresses were not enough to erase the stain of guilt.
Suddenly, my seething hatred for Lilith, the loathing I had pushed down and hidden away, came bubbling up to my conscious mind once more. Looking at the despairing, wretch
ed, and devastated faces of the weeping women added to the intense repulsion. I had to stop her, but I did not want to sacrifice my future with Aini. My thoughts and feelings were so intense that my chest seemed ablaze. I threw my head back with a low groan as I shoved my hair away from my face.
The little girl with the glistening hazel eyes and freckled face tugged at my hand. “Will you help us?” She got me out of my head.
“Yes,” I said. “I need someone to show me where the grave is on the mountain.” I scanned the crowd for a volunteer. The women stepped back, glancing at each other. Finally, one of them spoke.
“I know someone who can help you. She is light where Lilith is darkness.”
“Where is this person?” I asked.
“She prays in the forest. Come, I will take you to her, but we must hurry.” She took my hand and pulled me along.
“You know,” she said, “I am one of those people who went to Lilith for help.”
I stopped and looked at her, but she never made eye contact as she spoke.
“My husband was very ill. We tried everything, but he continued to get worse. What kind of life would I have without him? How would I raise our three children alone? One morning, death’s shadow was upon his face, and in a desperate move I took him to Lilith. She told me the price for curing him was to sacrifice one of my children. I declined her cure. Sacrificing my children was not an option for me. I thought she would burst into a ball of fury, but she remained calm. She smiled and told me to be on my way, but first she said goodbye to each of my children with a kiss on the cheek. My husband died days after visiting Lilith, and one by one, my children became ill with the same mysterious illness he had been afflicted with, and they too died soon after. I was left on my own because I had declined Lilith’s remedy.” She hung her head and wept quietly.
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