by L F Seitz
“That lady knew my fate, Micah, and I know you’re thinking that I might go dark, but you kill me, remember? So whether you teach me or not, you will come out on top. There is no point in not teaching me.”
“What if the reason I have to kill you in the end is because you go dark after what I have taught you?” It disarmed me to see him so unsure.
“What if you don’t teach me, and I end up teaching myself and do it wrong and go dark and you have to kill me because of it?” I countered. “She didn’t give us a clear answer. We have to run blindly into the abyss.”
“I don’t walk into situations blindly.”
“You won’t be blind. I’ll guide you,” I said, though I don't know why, I was just as clueless as he was.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said. His response offered a window through the wall he built around himself. I didn’t want him to close it off again, so I playfully hit his arm.
“Don’t be so mean. I have great vision in the dark,” I said. His shoulders relaxed. “When can we start?”
We decided to start today with Latin and move on to defensive arts tomorrow. Micah said if I wanted to do this, I needed to put all of myself into it without work as a distraction. I worried about paying my bills, but he said he’d call MedTech for me and take care of it. Calling out of work wouldn’t do much besides take away one of my banked sick days. Eventually, I’d have to stop calling out, but I didn’t mention that now. I feared irritating him would leave me without a teacher.
“Anything specific you want to learn in Latin first?”
“What’s your name mean?” I asked without hesitation.
“It isn’t Latin. Biblically, it means ‘humble.’ In Hebrew, it means ‘gift from god.’ There is an angel named Micah, and he is the Angel of Divine Plan.”
“Bet that gave you a big head as a kid,” I said with a laugh. “Why would I get a big head?” He asked.
“Never mind. Is there an angel named Lamia?” I asked, reaching up as I played with a lock of my hair, twirling it in my fingers.
“No. Your name literally means ‘an evil spirit who abducts and murders children.’’’
I said nothing after that. I knew it was a stretch, but I couldn’t help hoping that maybe there was something about me akin to Micah. Something angelic.
“Quod nomen tibi est.”
I looked to him as he spoke the words again, sounding beautiful as they tickled my ears. I took a breath and repeated him, a little shaky and not as clear. He implied his approval. He stood and began moving about the room in no particular pattern. “Take another breath and relax the muscles of your mouth. Don’t think too much about it.”
Easy for him to say. It sounded like music when he spoke or some steamy Latin soap opera. I however, sounded like a toddler. I’d never tried taking a language class in high school and didn’t have any friends who spoke anything other than English. I was average in English class, so I didn’t expect to excel in this – though I hoped to be decent enough to interpret and understand. Language was a new arena I had just walked into, and Micah seemed to be a champion gladiator.
“Ego nigrum habere comas.”
I listened to him repeat it once more. I relaxed myself and let the words fall from my mouth rather than pushing them out.
“It means, ‘I have black hair.’ Better this time,” he said.
He spoke a few more lines and I followed him, doing my best to stay relaxed. It was fun to learn a new language – or relearn one, I guess: Micah said we already know the language; it’s in the supernatural part of our blood. Regardless, it was nice to do something so simple with him. It was giving me a better sense of who he was as a person.
Micah offered learning the Cambion incantation, doing a sentence at a time to break it down for me. He warned that it would be difficult, that speaking the incantation, even slowly, might bring my demon self to light. When it was spoken as it’s supposed to be, there was no way around the transition, but with practice, it could be held at bay when the incantation was spoken slowly. This all being so new, he explained, I might not be able to suppress the change.
“We’ll take it slow. I’ll be fine.”
“Et reducam te in caligine Demon nunc urbs est patris tui,” tumble out of his mouth like gentle waves.
The words were heavier on my tongue this time. I felt the heat, a small breeze of it across my abdomen. I repeated them, keeping my mouth relaxed as I did.
“‘Demon, I now send you back to the dark city of your father.’ Self-explanatory, or would you like me to clarify?” he asked, I didn't answer. I wet my lips, focusing on their movement. “Ostende mihi faciem tuam; et non est misericordia. ‘Show me your face; there is no mercy.’”
It felt as if smoke wisped from my nostrils as I continued. The heat intensified. Micah’s presence was notable now even with eyes closed, as I worked harder to focus.
“Quae est a carne daemonum interficiam corpus. Perit in aeternum misericordia ignis.” Micah’s voice sounded quieter this time. “‘I cut your demonic flesh from this body. Let you forever be lost in the pit of fire.’”
It was like sitting in a pot of boiling water, trying to prevent the change seems to be more painful than the actual act. Regardless, I pushed the words out, not caring how they sounded. I sucked in my bottom lip as I took in a steady inhale through my nose, I could get through this without changing.
I could sense him watching me. “I’m OK, we have one more line left,” I said with a huff, recalling the incantation from memory. I peeked up at Micah, who studied me intently.
“Are my eyes –”
“No.” His gaze shifted between mine as we stood mere inches apart. I’m surprised I didn’t catch fire. I turned away, holding onto the windowsill for support.
“The heat is already passing,” I swallowed hard. “What is the last line?”
“Et incarnatus est de Angelo, anima tanted ostende.”
I clenched my jaw as I contained it, contained the demonic blood he was talking to. The Latin he spoke revealed itself, and I interpreted it without any assistance as the dark blood ripped at me. Like a dog fighting against its leash. I gripped the sill hard, clenching all my muscles as I willed the heat to subside. I attempted to breathe through this massive cramp of hellfire that threatened to blow me up from the inside out.
“‘By the power of the angel, show me your tainted soul,’” I translated, grunting out the sentence in Latin.
It took me a few minutes to get ahold of myself again. The heat eventually faded, and I was left drained. I turned slowly, panting, to find Micah in the same place, still regarding me.
“Very good. If you practice holding yourself together like that, it is an exercise in and of itself. It’s a big step.”
“Do I get a gold star?” I asked dryly. I pushed my hair out of my face and rubbed my sweaty palms on my leggings. He was right: though I didn’t know Latin, it came to me as though from a distant memory. “You said something about an angel incantation,” I said to him as I leaned against the window, still catching my breath. Micah grabbed our cups and moved toward the kitchen.
“There is an incantation that brings out the angelic blood in the Nephilim, like the Cambion. Both incantations stem from Lucifer. Unfortunately, I don’t know the exact reason why. I think it’s because of the lines he broke and ruined when he was cast to hell.” He came back and handed me my coffee. I wanted to see him, the other side of him, but I knew that might not be possible unless he was fighting.
He clarified that the incantations are used for Halflings because killing them can be difficult, given that we have souls. Our supernatural blood will use our life force to itself if the injury isn't fatal; making halfings difficult to kill. Full demons do not have one, therefore a consecrated Nephilim blade will kill them without the incantation. One must bring the demonic blood to the surface in order for the Nephilim weapons to work. Same goes for Nephilim, if a Cambion wanted to kill Micah, they would need to bring th
at DNA to the surface in order to kill them. That part of our supernatural DNA has the ability to heal and partly regenerate with time using out soul so killing either is very difficult.
“I remember the blue from that night. ...” I trailed as I observed his markings again. I recalled the mixture of blue and red light before I went unconscious.
“When Nephilim kill a demon, our angelic essence connects with the blade when we conduct the act. That is what brings it to the surface without need to conjure it with the incantation. A normal human being can’t kill a demon with a blade, even if it’s a consecrated one.” He explained that the blade he used is a specific kind of metal, sanctified in Porta Caeli, the Nephilim capitol located in the Mediterranean, to channel his angelic energy used to kill demonic creatures. Nephilim glowed blue because when in the act of killing a Cambion, one’s blade uses the angelic power within their blood, so it surfaces during the kill. Also, he posited, it could be an instinctual thing, since the feud between the species has been going on for thousands of years.
He brought the mug to his lips, and I watched as his lips curled around the edge, taking in the dark liquid. The sun began to shine through the window and warm my skin.
“When your angel surfaces, does it hurt?” I asked.
“I have been doing it for about seven years, so now, it takes little energy to do. It’s like holding your first breath underwater. Eventually, you can hold it longer with ease.”
It felt, he guessed, similar to how I felt. The temperature change happened first. When he was younger, he thought it was heat, but it’s cold. Heavenly fire is so cold that it’s hot I guess. Then came the pain, and soon after that, it’s over. None of the Cambions use it anymore, they resort to ripping out one's throat. It is difficult to kill a halfling, but if you rip out their heart or decapitate them, there is no need for the incantation. He doubted they even remembered it. I yearned to see his angel form but, without a blade to my neck.
“Can I at least know what the Nephilim incantation is in English? Maybe I can figure it out for myself,” I said hopefully.
“In the name of Lucifer, show yourself, for you are summoned by him. As nephew of Satan, he is your superior. Hellfire shall burn and taint your pious soul as I throw you back to where you belong. He gives us strength; by the power of Satan, I shall end you.”
I stared at him in awe as the temperature around us dropped. I shivered, my fingertips freezing, my stare fixed on those icy irises. I stood at the edge of a winter storm and Micah was in the eye.
“I can feel the cold coming off you.” I swallowed, my mouth dry.
“Told you.” He smirked before turning away and sipped his coffee with a smug face. Did he know the effect he had on me? My cheeks flushed. Was it the opposition of us both that attracted me to him, or was it the mystery of who he was that made me curious? The mystery of who I was that he knew so much about?
Pushing my hair from my face, I shook away the thoughts of him and focused on the English translation of the Nephilim incantation. I knew some of the story of Lucifer in the bible and why he was cast out of Heaven. He was one of the highest archangels, created by God, and his pride made him demand more, to be worshipped, which got him cast out of Heaven.
My teacher talking about it in history class once, we got on the topic when we were talking about the years markers like B.C. and A.D., and how it correlated with the time of Christ. B.C. being Before Christ and A.D. being After Death or Anno Domini, which is Latin for “in the year of our Lord.”
“So, the incantation used the angelic part of Lucifer against you, in a sense. Despite him being cast out of Heaven, the Nephilim still have a connection to him. That’s how they pull your angelic blood to the surface.” He nodded as I deciphered the information, seeming to be pleased with my speedy comprehension. Though it all still seemed so unreal, somehow I felt I grasped these concepts faster than any human life concepts I had ever learned.
“You’re not going to show me your angelic side. That’s unfair,” I said as I held my hand out for his mug to put into the sink. He said nothing. I set them in the sink for a moment before deciding to wash them. I didn’t want to waste time washing dishes when I could be learning things, but this conversation was sort of a dead end.
“If you can recite that whole thing in Latin, I won’t be able to resist the shift.”
I knew he wanted to help me, but asking me to do it when I know nothing of the language was just setting me up for failure. “I’m not at the level yet,” I said, shaking my head. I pulled a dishrag from a kitchen drawer and proceeded to wet and add soap to it.
“I’ll give you the first line,” he said. I paused in thought, then agreed. Even if the Latin did come to me, no doubt I would butcher it.
“In nomine Lucifer enim ostendis tu qui ad eum,” he said.
The words raised the hair on the back of my neck as I felt myself grow cold. I looked at the soapy mug in my hands and tried to think of the words he’d spoken to me in English earlier to interpret them into Latin. Nothing came to me. I washed and rinsed the mug, thinking hard. A word, even a letter to tell Micah, but nothing came. Just a dark void of nothing.
“I can’t think of anything. Can’t you just say it this once?” I dropped the mug and rag, turning from the sink. “Or don’t, but your annoyance with me isn’t going to just make this easier,” I snipped. Crossing my arms, I stared at him. He impatiently tapped his foot before giving in.
“In nomine Lucifer enim ostendis tu qui ad eum. Ut nepos, adversus se superiorem. Et ignis ardebit quasi infernus animam piam contaminant iterum ad vos mittere. Qui dedit nobis confirmasti tibi finis erit secundum operationem Satanae.”
I was smacked hard against the cabinets behind me, and then I fell to the floor in a heap. Before I could cry out, a searing pain of cold fire pierced my breast. My back arched in agony. I couldn’t call out for Micah. I gasped for air but couldn’t catch my breath. In that moment, I was completely blind-sided and terrified. It felt as if a white-hot poker were shoved down my throat. I couldn’t see even though I was blinking, blinded by white light.
When the pain became bearable, my vision cleared and Micah now stood over me. I reached for him, and before I could say his name, he pulled me into his arms. I could taste bile on my tongue as the room spun around me. He glowed sapphire blue, the sight bringing me back to that night, and the memory made me shake. I tried push away from him, but I couldn’t stand on my own. The skin of his chin was soft against my forehead.
“Can you stand?” He asked after a few minutes of heavy breaths between us. His body was tense now as I responded by slowly moving from him. I took in all of his glowing markings. That had been worse than anything I’d felt before, even worse than when the demon surfaced on my skin.
“What was that?” I asked, my head aching as I rubbed my forehead.
“Your skin.” His voice was tight.
I said nothing as I observed my arms, bewildered by my own sight.
I ran to the bathroom, freezing once I came into view. I, too, glowed. The lines on my skin weren’t the familiar red I was used to: they were as blue as his. Blue and pure – but how could that be? My eyes weren’t all white like Micah’s though. Instead, my pupils were encircled with a bright cerulean I'd never seen before.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, panic and fear setting in. How could I be both part angel and demon? It wasn’t possible. Through the shock, I began comparing the two: angel and demon. Being in this form, I can feel the difference now, the demonic heat originated from my core, whereas this heat came from my chest. I felt colder, a frigid pain. Just like Micah said.
I turned to see Micah standing just outside the bathroom glaring me, fixated on my markings. We were both the same color. Aside from the raging chaos this created, a sense of relief enveloped me. We both glowed blue. I felt less isolated by this connection. Micah’s shoulders seemed tense, and his knuckles were white as he balled his hands into fists. He surveyed again and ag
ain, uneasiness prominent in his features as he traced down my figure like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. I held my breath as he did so, staring at him intently as he sorted through whatever he needed in the silence. This was all new to me, but for someone who knew many things about this world for years and was coming upon this now – I couldn’t imagine what he, too, was going through. He closed his eyes and tilted his head away, curtaining himself off with his hair. I’d never seen him so lost. I rested my hand on his shoulder. I half expected to feel that connecting sensation I did when the demon within me surfaced, but there was nothing. No temperature change. Normal. Before I could say anything, he stepped from my touch, and my arm fell to my side with a loud slap as my hand hit my thigh.
“I have to go,” he sounded distant. Cold. He left me by the bathroom and moved through the living room.
“How do I –” I began.
“Same as before,” he said. He picked up his coat from the kitchen counter, his skin already back to normal.
“Micah, wait. I’m scared,” I confessed. He walked to the door and opened it. “When will you be back?” I asked as he walked through the doorway.
“I don’t know,” he called and shut the door behind himself. I stood alone and in shock for a long time, unsure of what I should do, how this happened, or why Micah left. After a few breaths, I glanced back into the mirror to find myself normal again. But it was too late. I’d pushed Micah to a point he couldn’t handle. He doesn’t know what I am, and who knows what he’ll do. He might never come back, or he’ll bring his people next time and kill me. I leaned against the doorframe as my face grew wet with tears. The monster of self-consciousness gnawed at my vulnerable state. There was no use in holding back. I was scared, alone, and now a freakish monster who even Micah couldn’t tolerate. Self-discovery isn’t sunlight and rose petals; it is dark and dirty, filled with scars and skin stained with salted tears.
After sliding to the floor Nox crawled onto my lap. He purred, nudging his head against my hand. Lux followed suit at my side. “I need to stop exposing myself and letting him in,” I said to the cats. “It only leads to pain and lonely confusion.” I wiped my tears. After what felt like hours I decided to wash up- I hadn’t since yesterday morning. Under the showerhead, I let my mind fall into a dark numbness. Nothing but nothing. I sat down in the shower, pulled my legs close to my body, and propped my elbows up, letting my head rest in my hands. I turned the water all the way to H and let it burn away whatever was left from today.
