For Blood & Glory

by Cassandra Hendricks

  From the corner of her eye Sefira spotted a beam of energy hurling in her direction. Fists clenched, she shrieked and a field formed over half the room, shielding her, Blythe and their mother. Magnus hurled energy over and over again attempting to break the shield but his attempts were futile.

  She looked to her side to see how Kaetano was faring. Through a crimson haze, she watched him put an end to his battle with Grizzle. He placed a hand on the creature’s head and suddenly Kaetano’s body was ablaze in a blinding white light while Grizzle’s body trembled. Then, the boy disappeared entirely, and Grizzle’s body bathed in the same white fire, then exploded. Chunks of meat and fur stuck to the wooden cabinets and walls and Kaetano was left standing.

  Holding the shield had been difficult before, but now it was easy. It was the weight of loss and struggle that were crushing. An endless flood of thoughts and images besieged Sefira and soon she was drowning in them.

  Celeste flashed before her curled up on the couch, sipping coffee, radiant and smiling. Then her smile dissolved. Deep purple and violet bruises appeared on her neck and the color drained from her face. Fear and agony marred her eyes as her hands clawed desperately at her throat.

  “No,” Sefira squealed, falling to her knees.

  “Fira, what’s wrong?” someone asked.

  Delilah was in her place now. Young and beautiful. Then, her wrists were shackled, feet bound, and she aged until there was nothing more than ash and bone.

  Carli was next, then Randall. And so, it was. Pleasant images turned ghastly, one after the other. Each image exacting irreparable damage to the shield of her mind, until finally, it broke. Everything faded to black.

  A small tinkling sound rattled in her ear. Sefira opened her eyes surprised to find that she was lying on the floor. The sound—a broken ceramic plate vibrating against one of the legs of the coffee table. How long have I been lying here?

  Not long, a voice answered. It was in her head. She did not recognize it. It was a woman’s voice.

  The plate broke as the vibration intensified, evolving into a rumble beneath her that travelled like a wave to the walls, knocking the few remaining fixtures in the room to the floor.

  Soon, there were shouts and through the screams, she thought she’d heard her name, but the words were barely audible. Worse still, she couldn’t see anything. She’d only had time enough to glimpse the situation because the room had gone black again.

  What’s happening? She thought.

  We are taking over, a woman’s voice answered.

  It was then that she felt their presence. Two beings had occupied the space of her mind and presently, they were at the helm, commandeering control, peering through the windows of her eyes.

  Who are you? What are you doing? Sefira’s voice sounded panicked and frail, even to herself.

  The woman’s voice answered. Do not be afraid. We are here to protect you. Aren’t we Joquin? There was a low growl in response.

  Shall we manifest ourselves? The woman asked.

  Manifest? repeated Sefira, quite confused.

  Yes, we can materialize in your world. We can slay them for you.

  What? No! My family is out there. Don’t—don’t do that.

  As you wish, the woman replied.

  I can’t see them—my family. Why can’t I see them? Are they okay?

  There was another growl.

  They are fine, the woman answered. See for yourself.

  They shifted, allowing Sefira to slide into the driver’s seat.

  There were no words to express how good it felt to be able to see again; however, what she saw troubled her. It was as if she were standing in the eye of a tornado. Chairs, plates, pictures, plants—objects too numerous to name were flailing about the house banging walls and running into one another. What the?

  A slight movement caught her eye and for the first time she noticed a woman to her right—vaguely familiar. Wait—that’s my mother. Delilah was on the floor, propped by her elbows, fixed in such a way that it appeared she wasn’t moving. Upon closer inspection, Sefira determined she was, only she was moving so slowly her movements were barely visible. Her mouth was contorted and agape as if she were trying to say something but couldn’t. To her left there was a boy in the kitchen. Kaetano. That was his name. His arms and legs were cocked as if to run toward her, but it was as if he too were poised in some sort of perpetual state. Above, a red cloak fanned the air and it was affixed to a man’s contorted body with a face too bright to make out features. And finally, there was a girl not far away. Blue eyes aglow, and she was covered in dark fur reminiscent of a panther’s, only swathed in exotic illuminated patterns. My sister. One of her clawed hands was outstretched as if reaching for her, and then she just—disappeared.

  Moments later, they felt pain. Like needles piercing their skin. And just that fast, the beings that had occupied the space of Sefira’s body were gone and she was once again in full control.

  Revelations

  A loud crash filled the room as all of the objects fell to the floor. Blythe loomed over her.

  “What is wrong with you? You stabbed me?” Sefira blinked as blood trickled down her arm.

  Blythe looked at her incredulously, but before she could formulate an answer, Magnus melted into red billowing smoke. He snaked through the air and seeped through the cracks in Randall’s door. Screams were heard. Blythe disappeared. Kaetano ran toward the stairs but before he made it up the flight, Blythe was back with Randall, who looked like he’d been worked over; torn, bloodied and angry.

  “You okay?” Sefira asked him, feeling a bit foggy. “What happened? Where’s Carli?”

  “He took her,” Randall said through clenched teeth, his fists balled. He snatched his arm from Blythe’s grip, eyeing all of them through sweat, blood and tears. “Dad was right. We never should’ve let you set foot in our family.” Turning, he eyed his mother’s body on the ground and covered his hands with his eyes.

  Sefira wanted so badly to fix things. To make them better. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say as she tried to embrace him.

  He swatted her arms away. “She’s dead,” he said, choking and crying. “She’s dead and Carli’s gone, and it’s your fault!” Stepping backward, he nearly tripped over a broken end table and then turned and ran for the front door. “Wait!” she called out. “Don’t leave.” She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She couldn’t be gone. She looked to Blythe. “Did you really look well up there? She could be hiding. Carli’s good at hiding.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Carli!” she shouted.

  Blythe was back to normal, placing a hand on Sefira’s shoulder as tears cascaded down her cheeks.

  “She’s gone. I’m sorry.” Blythe looked hurt as if she were personally responsible. “I tried to get her, but by the time I was in there it was too late. He—he disappeared through some kind of, I don’t know—vortex. And he took her with him.”

  Sefira felt faint. She leaned over, placing her hands on her knees for balance.

  “An insurance policy,” said Delilah. “He’s probably on Hyperion right now, banking on the fact that we’ll come after her.”

  “And we will,” said Sefira, straightening up, brushing away tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. She didn’t even know where Hyperion was but she knew she would be willing to travel to the ends of the Earth, or even beyond, to make things right. Her eyes strayed to the lifeless body of her mother. “Can someone get me a sheet, please.”

  Blythe hugged her. Delilah embraced them both. “I’ll take care of it,” said Blythe before disappearing.

  “I know you want to go after her, but we can’t,” said Kaetano, stepping over trash to join them. “Not yet.”

  Sefira pulled away from her mother.

  “What do you mean we can’t? I don’t even know who you are. What makes you think you have a say about anything?” She stormed toward him.

  “I found the…” Blythe began, holding a jumble of sheets in h
er hands. “Yo, hold on, Sefira.” Blythe popped in so as to stand between her and Kaetano, placing a forearm against Sefira’s chest like a defensive tackle. “One thing is for sure. We don’t need you getting angry, okay? Do you realize what you just d—”

  Sefira pushed her aside and charged forward until she stood right in front of Kaetano. “I hate you,” she hissed, slapping his face.

  Kaetano stood there, frozen—his mouth agape. “I deserve that and more. I’m sorry.” He bit his lip.

  Sefira shrugged him off and took the sheets from Blythe. Wading through the mess, she made her way to Celeste, knelt and kissed her mother’s hand. Then, ran her fingers down her lids to close them. Finally, she draped the sheet gently over her.

  “If you would all allow me a moment, I would like to explain,” said Kaetano.

  Sefira raised a hand to silence him.

  “There will be time for explanations, but that time is not now,” said her mother. “You could have chosen to side with Magnus and you didn’t. As far as I’m concerned, we are on the same team.” Delilah bent down to pick up her sword, looking slightly off-kilter as she grabbed it. It morphed into a sphere in her hands.

  “You okay?” Blythe asked, studying her mother’s blood-stained shirt.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine,” Delilah answered, covering her shoulder with her hand.

  “I think we should take a look at your wounds,” said Blythe.

  “No, I just—I just need to sit for a spell is all.”

  Kaetano picked a chair off the floor and set it next to Delilah, helping her to sit down.

  “Mom,” said Blythe. “We can’t just gloss over the fact that this guy was part of this. Part of them.” She turned to Kaetano, arms folded. “Kaetano or Kaos, or whatever your name is. Maybe you can enlighten us all by explaining what’s really going on.”

  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” He glanced at Delilah. “But ultimately, it’s up to Her Majesty to decide what she thinks is fitting.” He lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head.

  All heads turned to their mother. With a pained look she replied, “Please—that won’t be necessary. Rise.”

  “As you wish,” Kaetano replied, on his feet again.

  “Mommy, let me grab a towel for your wound,” said Sefira.

  “No, please—allow me,” said Kaetano.

  Sefira scoffed.

  Blythe looked exasperated. “Dude, just grab a towel. I’m sure there are some in the kitchen. Right?”

  “Yeah,” Sefira answered stiffly. “And there’s alcohol under the sink.”

  Kaetano jogged off.

  Blythe’s face screwed. “Wait a minute. Did my ears deceive me? ‘Her Majesty?’ What’s up with that?”

  Delilah remained silent. A few minutes later Kaetano was back with a towel and a bottle of alcohol.

  “Please,” he said, gesturing toward her wound.

  Delilah eyed him, then acquiesced. Kaetano dabbed the towel with alcohol, moved her t-shirt away from the wound and applied pressure. Delilah winced, gritting her teeth. She then wrested the towel from him and held it to her skin. “Thank you,” she said, dabbing at her arm and shoulder. “But, you are mistaken. I am last in line as heir to the throne. Besides the King and Queen that precede me, I have two brothers.” She winced again. “I never should have left. No matter now. Together, we’ll figure out a way to get Carli back and put an end to this war.”

  Kaetano rubbed his temple before saying, “Wait. Please, forgive me. I—um, I didn’t realize you didn’t know.”

  Delilah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Know what?”

  “First of all, the war is over.”

  “What?” she said, eyes brightening. “What were the terms? Nivea must be desperate indeed if she still wants to use us as leverage,” she said, rising.

  “I’m sorry,” said Kaetano, his face grave, “I wasn’t finished. Your family, they were—um.” His eyes flitted as if he were fishing for words. “They died. Fighting valiantly, of course. You are the only living heir to the Atori throne. You, Queen Lyrica and your children.”

  Her mother looked and sounded as if she’d been punched in the gut. Her head dropped. Knees buckled. They all rushed to her side, easing her back into the chair. “I’m okay,” she whispered. Clearly she wasn’t. “And Durant?” Her eyes slowly met Kaetano’s, and he fidgeted just a bit.

  “That, I do not know. He has not been seen for some time.”

  Lyrica nodded slowly, the towel dangling from her hand. “Our people?”

  “Slaves. That’s partly why I am here. I came to—”

  “Earn your freedom,” her mother finished, devoid of emotion.

  Lyrica swallowed hard. “This news changes everything.”

  “Yes,” said Kaetano. “I’m afraid it has begun.”

  “What’s begun?” asked Blythe, throwing her hands up. “Somebody want to clue us in?”

  “That’s why she wants them,” said their mother. “She thinks….”

  “I’m afraid she does, Your Highness,” answered Kaetano.

  “I will need you to protect them.”

  “Of course, I’d do anything to try to make up for what I’ve done,” he glanced briefly at Sefira.

  “No, that’s not good enough. You must swear fealty to the throne.” She looked intently in his eyes. “Your true name?”

  “Kaetano Reynalt.”

  “Kneel.”

  He lowered himself to one knee, bowing while Lyrica placed a palm atop his head.

  “Do you, Kaetano Reynalt, swear by the Blood of Ancients, the Atoris of Old, that you will respect thy station, protecting and upholding the duties and will of the Dynasty of the Black Rose and her succession above and beyond all other, with honor and loyalty from this day forward?”

  Again, he glanced at Sefira. “I do,” he said.

  “By Royal blood, I command you to rise, a Champion and Warrior of the Black Rose.”

  He stood.

  “What the hell?” muttered Blythe.

  “Let’s go,” said Lyrica. “Fira, pack a bag. Quickly. Get some clothes for your sister too. We can’t go back to her house. Not now.” Briefly, she pressed the towel against her wound, peeked at her injury, then reapplied the cloth. “Blythe, go in the kitchen and grab some food.”

  “Wait.” Sefira slid her palm over her face. This was ridiculous. She still didn’t know any more than she had when they’d arrived. “You haven’t told us anything. Mom, there are monsters after us,” she said, gesticulating dramatically. “Hell, we’re monsters.”

  “Mind your language Fira.”

  She’s treating me like I was seven years old again. We’re not going to do this. “Celeste is dead, Carli is gone, Fredo’s hurt, and apparently so are you and we don’t even know why. Why mom?”

  Her mother did not answer. Sefira continued, “You can’t expect us to go and pack bags like—like we’re going camping or something and not ask any questions.” She shook her head defiantly. “I can tell you right now, we’re not going anywhere until you tell us the truth.” She looked to Blythe for support. Surely, she had to feel the same way.

  Blythe rubbed her chin as if thinking, then nodded in agreement. “I’m with her. I’m sorry but my whole life has been one giant question mark and now the answers are staring me in the face. I can’t just walk away from that.” Sighing, she looked her mother in the eyes. “I think we deserve to know what’s going on.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” their mother replied. “I’m surprised the police aren’t here already.”

  “We’ll make time,” said Sefira. “If the police come, we’ll just pop out. That simple.”

  Lyrica took a deep breath, eyeing them both. “You two have grown up. And you’re right. You’re right. I’ve asked too much of you already. You deserve the truth. Have a seat, please.”

  They all sat. Kaetano on the rim of an upturned table while the girls turned chairs over to sit in.

  Removing the bloody rag
from her shoulder, Lyrica placed it in her lap, crossed her legs and shifted into the backrest of her seat. “I suppose I should start with who you are. Who we are.” She took a breath. “We are special beings. A mixed breed whose ancestors date back further than your minds can comprehend. We’ve been called by many names: Sons of Anakim; Seed of Anak; Watchers. Of course, none of that means anything to you, so I will try to put things in a context you can understand. We are the product of the union between the sons and daughters of Eve and the Angels in Heaven. We are Nephilim—after the Order of Melchisedech. The 13th Tribe of Israel.”

  Sefira glanced at her sister, who shared the same stupefied look that she did. There was a brief silence.

  “Well, this is awkward,” said Blythe, shifting in her seat, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, I always thought I was Black.”

  “So, what—we’re like aliens or something?” asked Sefira.

  Lyrica looked insulted. “No, not aliens. Not monsters. You are—super human. Part angel, part human.”

  “Nephilim.” Blythe faced Sefira. “Pass me your phone, I’m gonna Google that.

  “Really?” Sefira fished the phone from her pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her sister.

  “Now,” said Blythe punching buttons, “is that Nephilim with an ‘f” or a ‘ph’?”

  Sefira ignored the question. “What about those things? Magnus, the Droge thing—what are they?”

  “Also Nephilim,” Lyrica answered.

  “You’re telling me we’re all cut from the same cloth? What’s the deal?” Sefira shrugged. “What—did you, like, piss them off or something?”

  “Power,” her mother answered. “That’s what it always comes down to. There’s a war on Hyperion.”