“Do not get too down, though,” Clarissa, upon seeing Lilith’s slumped shoulders and despondent visage, added. “I have tasked someone else to give you lessons on something aside from your succubus powers after breakfast.” She smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find it beneficial.”
As Lilith shivered a little under the disconcerting smile of Clarissa, Christian found himself glad that he was not on the receiving end of that smile. He also made a mental note to make sure he never found himself under it either.
***
After breakfast Lilith found herself in a long, rectangular room that had been lovingly dubbed “The Shooting Range.” It wasn’t a very original name but considering every wall within the room was loaded up the wazoo with what looked like every gun imaginable, Lilith could see why it would be called that. It was quite apparent that this was the place where long-range fighters learned how to use various types of guns. And bows. And throwing knives. Lilith even saw some kunai hanging on the wall.
There was only one section that was not covered in long-range weaponry. The entire left side, where a wall would have normally been, was instead a space with several segmented zones separated by cement walls. They were kind of like stalls. Each little cube had a small, two-foot wall rising from the ground, keeping people from going further. Beyond that was the rest of the room, which extended at least a hundred more yards. Lilith could make out what looked like several people shaped dummies near the back of the expanded space.
She was learning how to use a gun today, which was too bad, because she would have really liked to learn how to throw a kunai.
“I’m sure you know what a gun is, so I’m not gonna be going into some big lecture about them,” her instructor for the day began. “There are many different types of guns; rifles, shotguns, handguns, machine guns, and many different sub-types of each gun such as 9mm pistols, magnums, revolvers, and the AK-47.”
Heather Locklear was a woman with a very no-nonsense aura to her. Despite the “you’d better run if you don’t want to die” vibe that Lilith was getting from her, she had to admit that the woman was every bit as gorgeous as she was, maybe even more so. Long, straight, silvery blond hair hung from her light in a messy tangle that somehow looked natural and sensual, like she’d just finished having a night of hot, passionate sex.
“Today, all we’re going to be doing is having you try out different guns to see which one works best for you. Now come over here.”
Lilith followed Heather over to a table, which already had several guns sitting on it. Some were small, some were large, some had long barrels, and others didn’t. A few looked like they were supposed to be held with two hands. Most of them were black and gray. Lilith didn’t recognize any of them.
“Since you’re a beginner, we’re going to start off with something easy,” Heather told her, picking up one of the smaller guns. Shaped like an L, with a handle, a trigger, and a barrel, it really didn’t look all that different from any other gun to Lilith. “This is the Beretta M9, a 9mm semi-automatic pistol. It has an effective firing range of fifty yards, a fifteen round detachable box magazine, iron sightings, and short recoil. This gun was adopted by the United States Armed Forces in 1985.”
“Uh...”
All of that flew right over Lilith’s head. 9mm? Fifteen round detachable boxes? Short recoil? This woman might as well have been talking rocket science.
Heather seemed to realize this. The woman sighed, placed one hand on her forehead, and then gestured for Lilith to follow.
“Why don’t I just show you the basic functions of the gun and we’ll go from there?”
Lilith nodded and followed Heather, who soon tried to explain the functions of this particular gun to her.
***
That day was the first day Christian found himself separated from Lilith for more than a few hours. It was an unusual experience, and kind of unpleasant, if he were honest. He’d gotten used to having the young woman by his side, a constant presence that let him know he was not alone. Now that she was gone―off with some woman who had a severe look on her face—he found the lack of her companionship disconcerting.
Despite this, Christian knew it would be good for them. He didn’t think it was good for Lilith to have just him as a companion. Making friends among her fellow succubus would be beneficial. It was the whole reason―or at least part of the reason—that he’d not run interference that morning when all those succubi had surrounded her. Lilith needed to step out of her comfort zone in order to grow.
Besides, he had something that he needed to do, and he wanted to deal with it alone.
“Clarissa,” he greeted after having finally found the woman. She was in the same training room that they had been using yesterday. He should have checked there first. It would have made everything so much easier. Instead, he had gone to just about every other building he could think of before deciding to come to this one.
Just as she had told them that morning, Clarissa was working with one of the younger succubi. It was the redhead; the one Christian had saved during the battle against those goblins.
Now that he was no longer in a dark, dank cavern or lost in thought, he could see that the female was one of extraordinary beauty; she possessed pale skin with a smattering of freckles on her nose surrounded by dark red hair, and her eyes were a vibrant green. Her face was somewhat rounded, youthful. Now that he was getting a good look, Christian quickly determined the girl to be even younger than he had estimated. Maybe sixteen at the most. Her body was not as curvy as the other succubus he’d seen so far, which also clued him in on her age. Though, perhaps unsurprisingly, she still a more generous figure than most girls her age did.
“Christian,” Clarissa greeted, turning to face him. The redhead also looked at him, but only for a second. After that, her face turned a shade of red that nearly matched her hair and she looked away. Christian would have wondered what was wrong with her, but he honestly didn’t care enough to ask. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something you said when we first met.”
“You are referring to when I referred to your inhuman origins?”
“Yes. You mentioned that my right eye is not human, and you said something about above normal healing.”
“Indeed, I did,” Clarissa said, nodding. “Are you telling me that you’re beginning to believe me when I say you are not fully human?”
“I never said that.” Christian scowled. “I just want to know how you came to the conclusion that I’m not human.”
While Christian would never admit this to Clarissa, the truth of the matter was that he was beginning to wonder about his own origins.
It wasn’t something that he’d ever thought about, so it never occurred to him, but his father had numerous inhuman features. He had looked human enough, but there had always been some discrepancies between him and normal humans. His eyes, for one. Clarissa was correct in that humans did not have red eyes, unless they had pigment problems, such as albinos. There had also been his father’s teeth, razor sharp incisors that looked more like those found on a shark than a person. His father’s skin had also been a rusty red. Christian used to think of it as a weird tan, but maybe that wasn’t the case.
Aside from his father’s appearance, there was also...
“Then you know what you have to do, right? You have to kill him. End his life. Then he won’t be able to take Lilith away from you.”
Christian shuddered as he remembered the voice that had whispered in his ear during his battle with Asmodeus. It had commanded him to kill, to destroy the demon who stood before him, to murder the creature that dared to hurt Lilith. His eye had stung, and his blood had boiled. His vision had changed, too, showing him Asmodeus’s weakness, the one spot on his body that could defeat him.
He also remembered the feeling it gave him. Just before Asmodeus had exploded, Christian had felt a sense of elation, of joy, the kind that came from death, from killing. He had enjoyed
killing Asmodeus, loved it even. The feel of his blade sinking into the demon’s flesh, the screams of outrage and pain that emitted from the demon’s mouth, all of it had felt incredible, wonderful. It had been euphoric.
That frightened him. It scared him to think that he could take such joy in the killing of others, even if the person he killed was a demon.
This wasn’t even the first time that had happened either. It had occurred before, a similar instance happened when he’d been fighting Asmodeus in his human form on the train, and another time during his battle with Abaddon. He’d heard the voice after everyone else that had been involved in that battle was killed. The Destroyer had been about to kill him, and the voice had come, asking him if he wanted the power to survive, the power to avenge his comrades, the power to defeat the Knight of Hell. It was thanks to that voice that Christian had been able to kill Abaddon and Asmodeus.
Yes, that was not natural. Not human. Humans did not hear voices in their head. They did not gain powers like that.
“I said not fully human,” Clarissa told Christian, her tone chiding. “I suspect you carry some demonic blood in your veins. Tell me, does your eye have any special properties other than its unique color?”
“Well, yes, it does.” Christian reached out a hand on and placed it underneath his eye. “When I focus on it, I can see perfectly even when there’s very little light. Depending on how hard I focus, I can even see a three-hundred and sixty-degree view of my surroundings, though I can’t use it for long because my head starts to hurt.”
“Information overload is like that,” Clarissa informed him. “There is a reason humans can only see in a one-hundred and twenty-degree arc. The human mind is not made to comprehend more than that. Your headache is likely being caused by your mind trying to grasp more information than it can handle.”
“But wouldn’t that mean I’m human?”
“Yes and no. Like I said, you are part human. It is the human part of you that has trouble comprehending that power. Tell me, how long have you had that power?”
“Ever since my battle with Abaddon,” Christian admitted with a shrug, causing Clarissa to nod.
“I see, and are there any other abilities that you possess?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about your healing?”
“My healing?” Christian looked puzzled for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t have any healing powers.”
“Then how is it that you healed from your injuries so quickly?” asked Clarissa. “You healed from grievous wounds that most people would not have walked away from at all, and you did so in under a week. That is not natural.”
“It’s because of the nanomachines inside of me,” Christian defended, “My physician―former physician—Doctor Anastasia Pierce, used some kind of cream filled with nanomachines that worked their way into my skin and bloodstream. They heal injuries by manipulating skin and muscle cells to regenerate damaged tissue and increase the production of red blood cells.” Christian then paused, frowning. He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. “Though it is strange. The nanotech should have been used up weeks ago. I am surprised they’re still inside of me.”
“Are you so sure it’s the nanotech at work now?” asked Clarissa.
“Of course, I am.” Christian frowned. “What else would it be?”
“I have a book in the library that I believe you should read,” Clarissa said with an expression that made a chill run down Christian’s spine. “It may help you understand just what you are. Maybe then you’ll begin to accept that you’re not one-hundred percent human.”
CHAPTER 9
Before the New Testament firmly established Satan as the ruler of Hell, it was often said that Belial was the one in charge. In the Old Testament, the word “Belial” held the meaning of worthlessness or wickedness, but later came to be used as a proper noun for the Devil or Satan.
According to the Dead Sea Scrolls, The War of the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness, he was the uncontested ruler of the dark side: “But for corruption thou hast made Belial, an angel of hostility. All his dominion is in darkness, and his purpose is to bring about wickedness and guilt.”
The demon of lies, he was acknowledged as a source of great evil, and even as the lord of all demons. Some apocrypha declare that Belial was created next to Lucifer and that he was the King of Hell governing eighty Infernal Legions. Others credit Belial as being the father of Lucifer and the angel that convinced him to wage a rebellion in Heaven against God, and that as such, he was the first of the fallen angels to be expelled.
Deceitful and evil-hearted, Belial was once considered Beelzebub’s equal, but by medieval times he had been relegated to one of the lesser demons of Hell. In the apocryphal the Martyrdom of Isiah and in the Gospel of Bartholomew, he is labeled as the demon of lawlessness: “And Manasseh turned aside his heart to serve Belial; for the angel of lawlessness, who is the ruler of this world, is Belial, whose name is Mantanbuchus.”
While there are many different opinions and beliefs about Belial’s origins and ranking among the demon hierarchy, what we do know is that he is a powerful demon who is said to be on par with the Seven Demon Kings. It has been theorized by demonologists that he might actually have been one of the Seven Demon Kings at one point in his life but was demoted or killed during one of the many conflicts that happens between demons.
Belial is said to often appear as a man in his middle years, with graying sideburns and a sharp goatee. His eyes are purportedly white, all white, with no pupil or iris, and his skin is the color of darkness, so black that all light that touches him is consumed. Like all demons, there are two wings on his back, remnants from the time when he was supposedly an angel under God’s rule.
Belial is known to possess a trident of incredible power, one capable of piercing anything by distorting reality. Some believe this trident to be Gae Bolg, a spear wielded by Cu Chulainn, the famed Hound of Ireland. Others think Gae Bolg is merely a part of the trident wielded by Belial. Regardless of what mythos are to be believed, it is well-known that the trident wielded by Belial is one of incredible power.
Like many demons of his class, Belial is known for possessing incredible amounts of raw power. It is said that with nothing but a wave of his hand, he can create hellfire powerful enough to wipe out several dozen acres of land.
He is also known for his ability to steal the powers of others. It is said that drinking even a single drop of blood is enough for him to gain all the powers someone else has, be they demon or something else. This, above all else, is what makes him such a terrifying enemy.
Christian closed the book in his hands with a loud snap. He flipped the book over and brushed his fingers against the cover. Dull and worn, its cover the color of rust, the book A Study in Demonology was one that Clarissa had suggested he read. She told him it might contain the information he was looking for, the knowledge that would help him determine his possible origins.
He had no clue why she would have bothered suggesting such a book. There was no way he could have demon blood in him. There just wasn’t. He was willing to accept that, maybe, possibly, his father wasn’t quite human, a vampire or a werewolf perhaps, but a demon? He just couldn’t see it.
Demons were said to be the one true evil. Angels that had fallen from grace and decided that, if they were going to be cast out of Heaven, they would have their revenge on God by going after the humans that God had created. They were wholly different from the fallen angels, those that had been cast out of heaven but instead of using their powers to harm humans, they merely used them to indulge in their own human desires.
Of course, the fallen angels who became demons were just the higher-ranking demons. They had been born with their power and attained their ranks by stint of their God given abilities. The other type of demon were the ones who formed the middle and lower ranks. They were humans who had lost their humanity, either sometime after death or, in rare circumstance, befo
re it. Those were the demons who no longer looked even remotely human, their desire and powers having transformed them into something grotesque.
Either way you looked at it, demons were evil. There was just no two ways around it. Christian was willing to accept that he was wrong about succubus, and he was even willing to accept that there were probably werewolves, mermaids, vampires, and other entities of the supernatural world who were not evil. But demons? No. He was not willing to accept that any of them were good.
My father, a demon? Yeah, right. If the idea wasn’t so insulting, it would actually be funny.
His father had been a good man, willing to protect his family with all his might. He had also been an oaf, a klutz, and an idiot, according to Christian’s mother. There was no way his father had been a demon. He refused to believe it.
That was not to say that all the information within the book had been useless. While he didn’t think he was related to any demon, the part about Belial’s ability to steal powers struck a chord with him. Christian recalled his battle with Abaddon, how after the battle his red eye had gained the ability to see in the dark and, after practice, he was able to see a full 360 degrees. There was also those nanomachines. They were long gone from his body, or they should have been gone, yet he still healed abnormally fast, especially during the times he heard that voice asking if he wanted power.
He also had that strange energy to consider. Whenever the voice gave him power, he felt a strange kind of energy rushing through his body. It had empowered him for a time, allowing him to perform feats that were beyond him, sort of like how those Executioners who used enhancement drugs were strengthened, he imagined.
But what sort of energy was that? It felt familiar to him, but at the same time different than anything else he’d ever felt before. It was contradictory, a paradox that he couldn’t make heads or tails out of.
Christian leaned his head back against the headboard of the couch and sighed. Even if this book had given him a few ideas about what kind of powers he might have, it left him no closer to finding what sort of supernatural creature’s blood was running through his veins.
Enclave Page 17
