The Rising

by L F Seitz

  “I can prove I’m also Cambion,” I said. As soon as my blue light glowed, it went out. Nothing could keep away the pain of this Nephilim magic, not even angel blood. “You have anti-demonic warding on this building, but it’s invisible,” I said.

  “Can you see it,” Jimiah questioned.

  “No, but I-I think it’s killing me.” My knees buckled as the air was sucked from my lungs.

  “Lamia!” Micah was by my side as I coughed into my hands, a thin red coat of blood beginning to form as I hacked, gagged.

  “So much for trying,” I said.

  “Lamia, don’t speak,” Micah said softly, supporting my weight as I fainted. “Jimiah, please help me.”

  ✽✽✽

  I came to again in fresh air, nearly gasping as it felt that now I could truly breathe. I inhaled deeply, taking in as much as I could of the cold November night. I was on the cement, its coolness taking away the pain of my burning skin.

  “Lamia.” Micah’s voice was beside me. I peered up at him, guilt filling his features. His hand lay on my arm as I slowly became aware of my surroundings. We did not come out the same door we came in; there were more weeds and long grasses surrounding this entrance. I guessed we came out the back exit.

  “The things I do for you,” I said. Micah’s laugh was hollow.

  “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” he asked.

  “You know why,” I said, looking past him to Jimiah.

  Jimiah stood some feet away. His eyes were glazed over, like he was somewhere deep inside his head. His hand was still on the hilt of his blade, but he didn’t have it at my throat; that meant something.

  Micah stood and held his hand out to help me stand, watching as I cautiously regained my balance. We both looked to Jimiah as he now watched the both of us, his gaze shifting between us.

  “This is uncharted territory, Micah.” Jimiah spoke first.

  “I know.”

  “No one will trust her, and this can’t be kept a secret. We have to hold a meeting.”

  “I trust her. She’s devoted to the Nephilim. She’s helped me, often without thanks. You know me: I don’t trust people easily.”

  “How you feel about her and who you trust isn’t what matters here, Micah. She is a species all her own, and a dangerous one, at that. What I say doesn’t change anything, regardless of if I can vouch for you. She isn’t just some innocent mismatch in genetics, Micah. This is blasphemy.”

  “She is innocent, Jimiah. She’s not a criminal, and until I found her, she’d never even known what Nephilim or Cambions were. Look into her files. I guarantee they will mirror what I’m telling you. Her social circle is next to nothing, and she has no family. How is that dangerous?” Micah raised his voice as he defended and insulted me at the same time. I tried not to be so offended by it, given he was painting me in a more innocent light so Jimiah wouldn’t see me as a threat. It still hurt like a paper cut. My feelings were easily overshadowed by Micah’s boldness toward Jimiah. If this was his mentor, what gave him the right to talk to him like this? How far was Micah willing to go to defend me? Even against his own friends?

  Jimiah remained unmoved as Micah demanded answers. The longer their conversation continued, the more disappointed Jimiah looked.

  “If you can’t see why she’s dangerous, then the Nephilim have failed you,” Jimiah snapped back, his jaw flexing. “We are holding a meeting to discuss what actions to take next. I suggest you ready yourself to be questioned. The both of you.” Jimiah looked to me as well.

  What actions to take next. As in, what they planned on doing with me. Micah stood perfectly still a few steps in front of me, his shoulders stiff. Jimiah pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. This was all happening because of me; Micah could lose everything because of me. He wanted to help me, and, in the end, I’d be ruining him.

  I stared at Jimiah, a fiery loyalty for Micah tingling in my fingertips as my fate faded into the background. This was about Micah – maybe not all of it, but this moment was. In this moment, he was the one who needed me and I wasn’t going to let him down.

  “I’ll give the information about The Rising to you that I recently acquired. I just –” I took a few steps forward, looking Micah in the eyes. His eyes were wide as they watched me. “I just have one condition.”

  “You’re not in a position to make negotiations,” Jimiah said.

  “I have information you want,” I said. It was obvious I was in the perfect position for it.

  “Lamia –” started Micah.

  “What is it?” Jimiah interrupted.

  “No matter what happens, Micah is not to be reprimanded for his actions. He was only seeking truth in a darkness he didn’t understand and found me. What I am isn’t his doing. He shouldn’t be punished for it.”

  Despite how Jimiah intimidated me, I’d never felt more fiercely about something in my life. I’d defended others before, but it wasn’t life or death. This time it was real, and I was ready. Realizing how much Micah had done for the sake of others, it made me want to thank him the only way I could. I wouldn’t look at Micah, knowing he’d protest. There was something there, in Jimiah’s dark irises, that told me he was seeing me, my true colors. My loyalty.

  “I can promise that,” Jimiah said, and I could finally breathe again.

  ✽✽✽

  I waited outside the doors of the Assembly building on the Nephilim compound. Two men stood outside with me to make sure I didn’t run off or do anything incriminating, I assume. After Jimiah hung up the phone, he’d escorted us back to his apartment for an hour while the Arch Counsel, as well as the Nephilim, assembled in the basement of the counselor’s building. As we left, these two men met us outside. Jimiah said it was for protection, but never specified for whom. I assume for everyone else, against me. Micah was reluctant to leave me out here without him, but Jimiah told him he had to plead his case to his people as my advocate and then I would be allowed to plead for myself. I fidgeted with my jacket cuff, wondering how Micah felt in there, alone in his stance against everyone else. Why would he want to do this to himself? This was supposed to be simple, and Micah had said it would be fine.

  Now it’s not. Now he’s pleading for my life to his people. All of this, because he wanted to thank me for helping him and the Nephilim and continue doing so. To give them information that possibly won’t be considered now, since they know I am part enemy. From my perspective, it was a losing battle, the consequence of this too final to comprehend.

  So why do this for me? Why, when it already seemed so bleak? I would do almost anything for Micah, but would he do anything for me? Defending me like this was something that could make him lose everything. Was I that important? Important enough to risk his life for? I hoped so.

  Nineteen.

  AN HOUR AND TEN MINUTES Micah had been in there, according to my phone. The longer I waited out here alone, the more impatient I was getting. Micah shouldn’t be in there fighting this by himself; he shouldn’t be in there at all. I should be; this is my life. Why wasn’t I the first they questioned?

  A loud creak of the door jolted me from my thoughts, and Micah came out peering around until he found me. His face was unreadable. He walked over and sat next to me on the bench just outside the entrance, his shoulders slumped forward as he huffed, looking out into the sky without a word.

  “Not good?” I asked.

  “They asked a lot of questions – about you, your character, your personality, your life, and anything else I might have picked up while ‘observing’ you,” Micah said, making air quotes. “Then they got upset with me because I refused to give them the information on The Rising.”

  “Why would you do that?” I felt panicked thinking about it. These people didn’t seem like the kind you could say no to.

  “I told them you’d tell them that,” he said. “Makes you look better if you give them something they need.”

  “What’s your punishment?” I asked, trying to read his face. I wan
ted to know how he felt, but he was so closed off to me I’d never pierce his armor.

  Micah shook his head. “There isn’t one.”

  I knew it instantly: Micah had just lied to my face. I wanted to be angry and demand the truth, but he looked so strung out it felt like the wrong time to be demanding answers, especially after what he had just gone through in there. “What now?” I asked, looking behind to see the assembly doors still open and a man standing there watching us. Dark blue markings like Micah’s covered his tan skin, and his willowy frame stood unnaturally still.

  “It’s your turn,” Micah said.

  I stood and adjusted my jacket before holding my hand out to him. “Let’s go, then,” I said, smiling. I wasn’t afraid when Micah was there with me.

  “I can’t walk in with you, Lamia,” Micah said, shaking his head.

  My heart nearly stopped in its tracks. “Why?” I could hear it in my own voice, the horror of stepping in there alone. I could hear the amount of people from here: there had to be at least a hundred waiting to slaughter me, with no one but enemies and strangers surrounding me. I can’t do this without him. I’d drowned.

  “You have to do this alone,” Micah said.

  The man by the doors motioned for me to come to him. I went to leave but turned back to Micah whose gaze was to the sky. This felt conclusive. I admired him, drinking in the sight of him as much as I could, as if it might be the last time I did. He sat with his hands shoved in his jean pockets, eyes shifting across the stars lazily, with melancholy. I could feel the tears coming but refused to let them be seen; I didn’t want him to worry about me.

  “Before I go, thank you,” I said, my words hushed. “For what?” Micah asked.

  “For giving me purpose, for being my friend. I mean, sure, you were a huge ass and mean to me most of the time, but you forced me to do something. To be brave and step out of my box for once in my life. It means very much to me.” I swallowed hard while he stared at me.

  He lowered his eyes to meet mine, Micah stood then, and stepped closer to me. For a moment, I thought he might hug me. That would kill me for sure.

  “Why are you saying this?” he asked.

  “In case this doesn’t go well.”

  “Don’t go in there doubting yourself, Lamia, or it will end up bad,” he said, his tone laced with irritation. How could he say that when he came out the way he had: distant and defeated?

  “At this point, they know more about me than I do. How am I supposed to have the upper hand? How am I supposed to do this alone?” My frantic fears pushed through and managed to fall from my lips, and my cheeks burned with the presence of them.

  “Let’s go. Enough talk,” the tan man at the doors yelled to us.

  I turned from Micah. His hand grasped my shoulder, forcing me to look at him once more. His face was so close to mine, his breath brushing across my nose as he spoke. “Even if you don’t really know what you are, you know who you are. They can’t change that, and you need to use it. You are shy and scared, but you have done some things most Nephilim would never do in a million years. You can do this. Take that fire I saw when you bargained with Jimiah, and use it.”

  He pushed me, and I staggered back. A smirk moved onto his lips, and I couldn’t help but mimic it. Micah believed in me. To know he believed I could get out of this alive made me a little more optimistic, though not completely. He gave me a single candle of light to use in a cathedral of darkness. I only hope my fire burned hot enough to keep the shadows from snuffing it out.

  It was dark and smelled of sandalwood in the Counselor’s Assembly building. The floors were gray tile, and the concrete walls were painted dark gray. About 15 feet down the hall, the building branched into three other directions: long halls to the left and right, and stairs leading in front of me. The lights were off, and there was little coming in from outside, aside from the light coming from up the stairs. Following the man through the corridor, we moved quickly down a flight of stairs. The two men from outside – guards assigned to me, I assumed – were close behind, and I could hear people’s voices echoing as we moved. Once down the stairs, the voices became clearer as bodies accompanied them.

  I focused on the back of the man I followed, too fearful to glance anywhere else. The murmurs subsided as I came into the room crowded with Nephilim, and I prayed no one reached out with a blade and took my head from my shoulders as the man escorted me through.

  There was a mezzanine created from a rough opening in the ceiling, about 14 feet in diameter, held up with exposed steel beams. People observed from the first floor. My eyes continued up until they found a large glass dome. The building had been updated with paint and tile work, but it was still very industrial, with all the concrete and steel. The best part was the glass dome, though: it was dark now, but I could picture it when the morning light shone through. I imagine it would be beautiful.

  I couldn’t escape the judgment of the Nephilim now as I finally faced them. I could feel them watching me, their eyes following me as I was escorted in. They all wore clothes similar to Micah's; dark earth tones, or black, leather in some form, and dark markings. One thing they had in common that I was not ready to witness on a mass scale: hatred for me. Then I was alone, in the middle of the room, a large gap between me and the line of guards holding back everyone else in the room. I turned to find a table, behind which sat five people: two older men, a woman, a middle-aged man, and Jimiah. I fought the urge to hold my breath as they all peered up at me at once.

  “I feel it is only fitting to state our names for the person in question, given this is our first interaction,” the woman in the center said as she stood. She had a long face and neck, and wore a long robe that reminded me of Professor McGonagall in the Harry Potter books. She gestured to the two older men first. “William and Nasir.” Both seemed unamused and annoyed. “This is Twain.” She motioned to a middle-aged, red-haired man closest to her right. “And this is Jimiah. I am Anastasia, and we are the Arch Counsel of this Nephilim Compound. This Kenosha compound is the only one left in the state. State your name for the Counsel and the record.”

  “Lamia Mathea Relictus.” My voice shook viciously. I coughed, embarrassed, and squared my shoulders. Micah said to be brave, to use the fire in me, but it was hard to find it in a room full of ice.

  “This assembly is held on behalf of Lamia Relictus on the grounds of identification of species, criminal background, information on The Rising, and temporary access to Nephilim facilities.” Anastasia, who sat at the center of the table, spoke again. She heavily emphasized the word temporary.

  I attempted to focus on anything other than the Counsel’s faces. Papers and files sat before them. I could see a childhood photo of me paper clipped to a folder, and I tried not to cringe. They had all my foster and school documents. Micah had told me this wasn’t going to be a big deal, but I think he was lying to keep me from backing out. If he’d told me this was how it was going to be - that everyone would be staring at me while they talked about my childhood - he would have had to drag me out of my apartment by my ankles. I couldn’t imagine what they’d find in those files. I got into a lot of fights as a kid, defending others. Though I doubt is was ever documented that way. I just hoped none of it was enough to be considered Cambion activity.

  I wanted to scan the room, to find Micah in the crowd, but I knew he wouldn’t be there. I knew I was completely alone in this, and there was nothing to be done but make sure my knees didn’t give out on me.

  “Lamia, please explain to the Counsel what you believe you are, as a species.”

  The question was clear and direct, but that didn’t make it any less difficult to answer. How do I explain what I am to a group of people who have already deemed me an enemy?

  “Answering truthfully, I don’t really know. Until a few weeks ago, I thought I was human, that everyone was human. Now I can sometimes glow blue or red, depending on a few words.”

  I wanted to mention the purple light I’d rec
ently discovered, but something in my gut told me this all was crazy enough. Throwing another color into the mix would only make things worse. Micah freaked out enough as it was at my ability to do both separately, but mixing them together? That would create anarchy. He’d never mentioned the possibility, and now wasn’t the time to bring it up.

  “How did you come across this discovery?”

  “On a Friday, a few weeks ago. I was walking home, and a man attacked me and slit my throat. The next morning, I didn’t expect to be alive. That was when this all began, when I first turned red. Finding out I could turn blue was sometime later.”

  A few whispers came from the darkness beyond the center of the room. The Counsel shuffled through my files. I watched Jimiah, focusing on someone familiar. Even though Jimiah was a stranger to me, Micah knew him, and that was as close to Micah as I was going to get.

  “Do you deny any indication of this before the altercation with Mr. Anderson?”

  My mouth went dry as five sets of eyes surveyed me, and waited to decide my fate. I scoured my memories for a moment, a second, to think of any way I could have known.

  “Yes,” I said, exhaling slowly.

  “Have you ever committed a crime of any kind, or a felony in the state of Wisconsin or any other state?”

  “No,” I replied, constantly second-guessing myself. I knew the facts – I would remember if I had – but the Counsel’s intimidation made everything blur inside my head. My interrogators remained aloof as I answered their questions, peering to one another with a nod every once in awhile.

  “Have you ever been stopped by the police for any reason?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever physically hurt anyone?”

  My mind went to the most obvious memory, the darkest one I tried to keep buried. I knew it wasn’t directly my fault, but I was the one who committed it. I had caused harm.