Lilith's Amulet

by Elizabeth Blake

  “Martyrdom.” He grimaced. “Heaven sent me to witness a saint’s death.”

  Her eyebrows shot up.

  He chuckled. “I had the same reaction.”

  Haniel reached down as if he’d pat the snake, but he changed his mind before she could warn him off. A touch of sulfur infused the air, alerting Lilith to an imp’s arrival. When Haniel appeared to be out of danger, the minion didn’t fully manifest.

  Lilith considered what Haniel had told her so far. Multiple realms of heaven, an omnipotent absentee father figure, and a plan that had changed everything.

  Martyrdom.

  She wasn’t surprised that heaven planned for mortals to suffer. She didn’t remember being one—it’d been too long ago—but she’d seen enough since then to know God at least permitted misery, even if He wasn’t purely accountable for its design.

  She figured God was inconveniently complicit in every evil.

  “Who decided the saint had to die?” she asked. “Who gave the orders?”

  “It’s not like that,” he said. “Angels of Shamayim are connected to Elohim; we simply know what needs to be done. He doesn’t need to ask us or tell us. We all know with absolute certainty what He’s decreed.”

  “Must be nice,” she mumbled, “to not have doubt.”

  “It was.” He sighed. “Until it wasn’t. Heaven didn’t send me to save the saint, nor to relieve his suffering. I watched, obediently, while he was tortured to death and became an unholy abomination.”

  “And then what did you do?”

  “Exactly as I was told. Nothing.”

  Haniel rubbed his knee.

  She waited, but he didn’t explain. “Yet you’re here. You must have done something to deserve this.”

  “Not really.”

  His hand rubbed his knee faster as if the pain in his human knee would heal his troubled soul. The fragrance of sulfur rolled over her, doubling in intensity, cloying and heavy. Haniel’s emotional state lured his guardians closer to materialization. Five-horn appeared.

  Lilith hugged her precious bundle against her chest. A vial gouged her ribs, but she only clenched it tighter.

  “Something must have happened,” she insisted. “You must have done something to deserve this.”

  His eyes met hers, rife with turmoil, pinched with pain. She squirmed.

  “My heart scorned God’s plan,” he declared. “I blasphemed.”

  “Oh.” She considered his words.

  Maybe he’s lying.

  Despite all the angry words, curses, and declarations she’d thrown at heaven, hell, and all the gods in between, nothing bad happened to her. Well, nothing worse than usual. Either heaven didn’t listen to her, or Haniel didn’t want to share the truth.

  “Why lie to me?” she said. “I don’t care what you did.”

  His brow furrowed. “I’ve told you everything.”

  That’s worse.

  If all it took to obliterate an angel’s salvation was an errant, resentful thought, a creature like her didn’t stand a chance.

  “Okay, maybe you blasphemed, but how did you get stuck on earth?” she asked. “Why aren’t you in hell?”

  He popped his knuckles. “Can’t say. I figured I’d be bound in the eternal pit, but I guess Elohim had another plan. I mean, I definitely felt it when I lost my faith, but maybe some tenuous threads of heaven ties me to God. I don’t know because I’ve been cast out.”

  “But not cast down,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Look around you. Boston looks a lot like hell these days.”

  “Valid point.”

  “When nothing else happened to me, I became a priest and served in numerous chapels and hospitals.”

  She snorted. “Why?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said you lost faith, were severed from God, and cast aside. Why the hell would you become a priest?”

  He scowled. “That’s an unfair question.”

  She didn’t think so. Without taking a poll, she assumed most devils didn’t continue the Lord’s work.

  Maybe a remnant of hope drove him to continue working for God. Or maybe his heart was still connected to heaven. Maybe he was a huge liar.

  She changed the subject. “Tell me about God.”

  “God cannot be defined.”

  Haniel’s severe expression chilled her. He appeared to be done with the conversation. His fearsome countenance was a reminder that he wasn’t only a lovesick human—he was God’s castoff angel.

  Did Haniel have lingering loyalties?

  He gruffed, “Are we leaving?”

  “Sure.” She stood. “Do you ever talk to Him? Pray?”

  “Is that something you’d want to do?”

  His gaze sharpened, brightened, like a blade fresh from the whetstone. Cut her right down to the viscera. He mightn’t have been looking for leverage, but she’d given it to him. From her own blundering insecurities, no less.

  She avoided his gaze while searching for something to exorcise the pressure building in her chest.

  A wooden frame encased the viewing window. Lilith reached over and flicked it with her fingertip, catching it with the cracked oval of her nail. She released the Becoming.

  A ripple rolled through the wood grain, and the board fluttered. It flopped and reared at both ends, wiggling its head and rattle. The elongated rattlesnake twisted off the frame and slithered onto the floor.

  Haniel’s legion materialized and pounced on the snake like infants entranced by a toy rattle. The serpent thrashed, filling the gallery with the sound of a lively mariachi band. Something rumbled a few exhibits away, but Lilith wasn’t in the mood to investigate.

  The universe was hard enough when it made sense, but now she realized she didn’t understand anything. If angels just ‘knew’ what God’s great plan was and now one was coming to kill her, what did that mean? Had she underestimated her enemy, assuming it was an angel when it was God Himself who wanted her dead? And if He wanted her to die, why in hell would He allow her to be born again?

  What the hell was she thinking? Haniel must be wrong. What did he know? Nothing. He wasn’t an angel anymore.

  Haniel asked, “What’s it like to be dead?”

  She blinked, coming out of her reverie. “Nothing. It feels like nothing.”

  He frowned. “Bullshit.”

  She folded her arms. “Maybe it simply cannot be defined.”

  “I talked about God and heaven, dammit, so tell me about death. I want to know how it feels.”

  She opened her mouth to ask why he’d care but it dawned on her. For some reason, he was becoming mortal. Death was now a possibility for him.

  How could she explain death?

  “There’s nothing,” she said. “Not even darkness.”

  He paled. “I can’t imagine anything worse.”

  They sat without speaking, surrounded by the sounds of minions tearing into the long rattlesnake.

  “What about Ouranóthen?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t you have gone to heaven when you died? Or in all likelihood, hell?”

  Lilith clipped him with her elbow. “Go suck yourself. Apparently there are other options.”

  Or maybe she’d been a fluke.

  Maybe that’s why she came back from death only to land on heaven’s shit list. What if God’s plan hadn’t involved her, and she was some sort of aberration?

  “Bullshit,” Haniel said, arguing, “Elohim would never allow a soul to be lost, unaccounted for.”

  Lilith wasn’t so sure.

  She’d been something, she became nothing, then—miraculously—she was something again. And she’d burn heaven and earth before she let herself return to nothingness ever again.

  Lilith decided God’s design was shit, especially if it involved martyrs and homicidal angels. She had to believe Shamayim’s intentions—good or malicious—didn’t matter. Their plan was no more esteemed than hers.

  Or maybe she was the plan. By all rig
hts, she shouldn’t exist. Maybe God wanted her to succeed. Such a comforting thought brought her peace.

  Back to the game she knew, the rules she abided in the wilderness, out in the sand of Nature’s raw theater:

  Survival.

  Chapter 13

  The bridge over Charles River was blocked with so many dead cars, human carcasses, and mounds of wreckage that Lilith and Haniel decided to forgo the surface and cross on the ice below. A week ago, the ice had been so thick that cars would fall from the bridge and splat on the surface without plunging through. After a quick thaw, the ice had cracked and shifted like tectonic plates.

  Clouds rolled overhead, thick as briars, blocking out all light.

  Lilith clutched the bundle of spell-casting ingredients against her chest. Haniel shivered and shuddered. His lips were blue as forget-me-nots and his cheeks had gone pale. The wet, scraping wind saturated him and froze, coating his clothes and hair.

  “Stay close to me,” she told Haniel. “Don’t fall into any cracks.”

  Haniel followed her. Slowly. His limp had returned at full force. Her shoes gathered ice with each step until her feet were bricks.

  Stupid town.

  “Where are we going now?” he complained, glowering at her from underneath ice-laden eyelashes.

  “A vampire named Catherine lives nearby. She’ll have food and shelter from the wind. We can rest while I find the Oracle.” Lilith sighed. “I hate asking witches for favors.”

  “Aren’t you a witch?” He sneered. “You’ve been prattling on about magic and spells since we met. As if it isn’t bad enough to be surrounded by vampires and demon vermin, I have to carouse with witches, too?”

  She wanted to smack him, but his sullen face didn’t match his words. His downturned mouth and pensive eyes made her pause.

  The lovesick fool seemed to be ruminating about how sad and pathetic he was without his human pet. It would’ve been sweet if the asshole’s noble, doomed quest hadn’t complicated everything. And Lilith, with her big mouth, had agreed to help him. Now she was trapped in a bargain of her own making, way out of her league, and hoping for an easy solution.

  “I’m not a witch,” she muttered.

  “How will yet another sorceress help me rescue Maggie?”

  “We need a witch who can scry for Maggie,” Lilith said. “Since you’re clueless and I can’t track an airborne dragon, a seer is the quickest way to find your lost human. Unless you want to forfeit the girl?”

  Haniel glared at her with bulldog tenacity.

  “Didn’t think so,” she snipped.

  Winds chased them across the ice, laden with scents of sick and blood. Lilith hated it. In her misery, she hated everything: the prestigious crumbling buildings, civilized rotting bodies, thin shoes and stolen cars and grounded airplanes, smog and smoke and shit. She despised everyone, friends and enemies alike.

  She missed her cave, the desert’s scorched perfume, and how from her roost high above the planes she could see something coming from miles away. Not like here, where they passed below the best vantage points and wandered past barricades and concealment, ideal places for an ambush. Telltale bloodstains on the ice revealed that’s exactly what had happened to other weary travelers, several times over.

  Something about the death scenes caught her eye. Unusual tracks marred the trail. Paw prints the size of cannonballs.

  “Hurry,” she whispered. “I see wolf tracks.”

  Haniel’s hands sank deep in his pockets as if scrounging for warmth. He didn’t even pretend to pick up his pace.

  She hissed, “We need to go.”

  “Why?” Haniel wiped his arm across his red nose. “Scared of a little werewolf?”

  Lilith tried not to flinch but failed. His eyes widened.

  “You are!” He laughed, a big, broad sound at her expense.

  “Shut up,” she grumbled.

  He chortled and jammed his hands back in his pockets. “God, I can’t tell you how exhilarating it is to know that vampires are afraid of werewolves.”

  “My kind is strong in different ways.” She touched the parcel in her arms and busied herself with twisting the sling over to her hip. It’d have to be secure if she needed to run.

  Haniel didn’t relent. “In what way are you stronger, vampire?”

  She hesitated. In reality, most vampires weren’t. When a werewolf came around, her kind was about as tough as shark chum.

  Instead of being honest, she deflected. “For a creature of heaven, you’re awfully ignorant of things.”

  He growled, “These aren’t heavenly things.”

  “Maybe your whole species is moronic. Is it part of the job description? Obedience, ignorance, a horrible taste in clothing, and a penchant for rubbernecking human tragedy?”

  She didn’t hear his reaction. Her eyes caught on a shape loitering by the bridge’s abutment.

  A leviathan mutt stepped out from shadow. Brown fur rippled into a razorback ridge down its spine. It stood over a quarter-mile away, so she couldn’t hear its footfalls, but the sight was enough to stun her silly.

  “What?” Haniel said.

  She grabbed his sleeve and shoved him behind a belly-up van. He opened his mouth, and she plopped her palm over his lips. His muted heat puffed against her skin.

  Lilith poked her head around the van’s scrunched nose.

  The razorback wolf’s head turned. Obsidian eyes glinted in her direction. Struck dumb, she watched the giant predator hoist its snout and sniff the air. It froze.

  Razorback hadn’t seen her, but it could smell her.

  She hugged her parcel and hissed, “We have to run.”

  “You’re a coward,” Haniel declared, his breath hot on her neck.

  “And you’re an idiot.”

  A snarl skated across the channel and twanged her lizard brain. She peered around the van, but the wolf didn’t track her movements. Maybe it couldn’t see her so far away in the dark, but it knew she was there.

  Running from angels, running from wolves. What next?

  Maybe the beast would go away.

  Razorback took a step in their direction. She grabbed Haniel’s sleeve and yanked him along. He loped/limped behind her, his breath percussive, his grip painful.

  He can’t keep up.

  Haniel shook her off and snapped, “I can’t run.”

  She looked around for a solution, but all she saw was corpses and debris.

  Razorback snorted behind them.

  I have to draw the wolf away.

  In her experience, werewolves loved to chase prey. If she captured its attention, maybe Haniel could use the time to pull his head from his ass.

  She grabbed a car door, yanked it open, and ordered, “Hide.”

  His features twisted as if he’d argue.

  His brimstone-babies will save him. She hoped.

  As if summoned, Five-horn appeared with Almost-wing beside him. Lilith winked. Together, they shoved Haniel into the back of the car.

  “What the—” he protested, and Lilith slammed the door. Loudly.

  The wolf’s head snapped up and its gaze pinned her.

  Her muscles tensed to run. Snakes abandoned her limbs, freeing her for a faster flight.

  But what about the parcel? What if I drop it, or worse, break something?

  If the werewolf didn’t eat her, she’d worry later.

  She bolted.

  Lilith had always been fleet of foot, even as a little girl. She had outrun her sisters after stealing their hair ribbons. Raced away from drunken soldiers in the market. Sped beyond the grasp of bishops seeking heretics for their pyres. Outpaced a convoy of militants cutting through her mountain range. Escaped a stampeding bull elephant. Sprinted away from a gaggle of witches intent on spooning out her ovaries.

  She could outrun a werewolf.

  On a good day.

  Tonight, she was starved and exhausted from traversing the city.

  Booming footfalls chased her as she fled. Sh
e leapt a gaping crack in the jagged ice, wishing the Charles River would finish breaking into pieces and sweep away the wolf. Snakes slipped into the chasm, carried away by the frigid water.

  Nothing’s going as planned.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d think Fate was conspiring against her. Every effort Lilith made met hardship and loss. Frustrated, she nearly turned around to scream at the mutt, but common sense prevailed. It’d be dumb to argue with a werewolf who could rip her to shreds.

  She sprinted to the ice’s edge and leapt onto land, heading toward the mire of destroyed buildings. The road opened up, empty of onlookers and devoid of distractions.

  The smooth terrain allowed her to gain ground, but Razorback hadn’t given up. The wolf pounded over the pavement. Boston shuddered. Snakes slithered after her, darting with all their might, but they fell behind and were squashed underpaw.

  Snip, snip.

  Lilith’s only comfort was that an overdeveloped city grid offered more cover and concealment than the open savanna. She needed higher ground, somewhere an enormous dog couldn’t climb.

  Fire escapes, she thought.

  Humans put fire escapes on the sides of buildings so they can get down during an emergency. She could use the same devices to go up. Several tall dwellings stood ahead to her left, and she veered toward them.

  Her lungs strained like brittle balloons. Breath chopped in and out of her chest. She glanced over her shoulder, spotted the wolf lagging far behind, and smirked. She could do this. She was winning.

  Lilith turned down a narrow alley, but she’d chosen wrong. Dead end. She pivoted back and ran smack into a wall.

  A massive, warm, furry wall.

  It knocked her onto her back. Snakes cushioned her fall.

  Snip, snap, snip.

  The impact crushed air from her chest—air she needed because she hadn’t fed—and then she couldn’t breathe. Her body attempted to cramp into a giant knot.

  She looked up at the ‘wall.’

  Another werewolf loomed above her, tan and black, shaped like a jackal the size of a lion. Teeth crowded its mouth. A pink tongue lolled against its chin.

  Her heart stopped. Fear clogged her throat. She scuttled backward, kicking with her heels, fingers digging into the pavement.