The Rising

by L F Seitz

  I focused on my boots as I thought about everything they’d said. I mean, I thought the way he was acting was drastic compared to when we’re alone. He was so outgoing here compared to when we were at my apartment. I guess I wasn’t the only one who had noticed the change.

  “Yeah, he’s hooked on you,” Leo wiggled his eyebrows.

  I felt nauseated as Leo poked fun. The thought of Micah liking me in any remote sense only made my mouth dry and my insides hot. He was always observing me so intensely when we talked, and now more than before he was opening up to me. Letting me see the real him. He slept at my apartment, which I guess could mean something, but he said we were friends. We’re just friends, right?

  “He does seem different than when we first met,” I mumbled. “We argue a lot, though.”

  “Some people get that way when they’re thrown out of rhythm. You’re different, and he isn’t used to you. It’s not a bad thing.” Hamon’s hand was on my shoulder then. “Micah’s been brooding for far too long.”

  The crowd parted for a moment, and Laylah appeared in our little circle. She wore tight pants, heeled combat boots, a tank top with a mesh black shirt over the top. She stood alone and stared directly at me. “Micah wants to talk to you.” Why wouldn’t he just come get me himself? “Follow,” she snipped before turning back into the crowd, expecting me to trail behind.

  The guys glanced at me with quizzical expressions on their faces as I left them to follow her. Something wasn’t right about her eyes. She looked so vicious. I moved quickly to keep up with her. I didn’t want to lose her in the crowd. We entered through double doors, which closed off a wing of the assembly building. It looked to be under construction, with exposed concrete beams and colorful wiring hanging from the ceiling. Dust and discarded stones covered the floor. We walked wordlessly toward some draped plastic, dividing a room from the rest of the hall. It was dark and hard to see.

  That is when I realized we weren’t going to meet Micah. I turned in a circle and soon lost myself in the darkness, unable to see Laylah or the exit, growing claustrophobic as I stood waiting. Fear threatened to consume me as I tried to control my breathing, straining to listen for Laylah’s whereabouts. Micah told me she was having a hard time welcoming me, I don't want to imagine what kind of scare tactic this might be to force me out of the Nephilim.

  “What do you want?” Laylah’s voice echoed through the dark. The sound made my skin tingle as my pulse sped up. She was using the darkness, the unknown, to scare me, to cause me to panic – which I was. It was definitely working, but if I learned anything from working with Micah, it was to not show my fear. It only empowered one's enemy more to see you squirm.

  “What do you mean?” I kept my voice light as I scrambled for a plan, any plan, to get out of this trap. Squinting, I could just make out a crack of light, it came from behind the plastic a few feet away, but Laylah could be anywhere. She could stop me in a single step, and if she was willing to risk the wrath of Micah by getting me alone and interrogating me, I can’t imagine what else she’d be willing to risk.

  “I mean, what do you want from Micah, from the Nephilim? You obviously want something,” she said.

  My mouth went dry as I thought about how to answer. Then it came to me: the darkness wasn’t what scared me; it was her, lurking in it. Though I was intimidated, the fire inside me was undeterred, wanting to crackle, wanting to snap at her. “I don’t understand what you mean.” My tone was tight as I gnawed the inside of my cheek, trying to keep myself from making this worse. She had the upper hand. She could kick my ass; I knew she could. It was the fear of not knowing if she was going to. She was taunting me, and I would bet she was hoping I’d lash out so she could incriminate me in some way. She wanted me to confess to something, anything, in order to get rid of me.

  “I mean, I know your game. Every demon has a game, and yours is this innocent little thing, pretending to be this new species.” She snickered, her voice close behind me now. I turned but saw nothing in the nearly black room. “Party tricks.”

  I balled my hands into fists, my fingers tingling with the adrenaline. “I’m not pretending anything,” I defended softly. I couldn’t fight back in this fight. There were too many variables against me that would only make me appear as the bad guy everyone wanted me to be. She was Micah’s ex, a Nephilim. There were literally hundreds of them down the hall, and I was on their compound. This would only give them a reason to condemn me, which is what she wanted. There was nothing I could do, and knowing that just made me want to go home, crawl under my blankets, and hide. It also made me want to stick it out, because if there was anything I hated more than being accused of false crimes, it was bullies.

  “You will get caught up in your lies sooner or later,” she snapped, and I flinched.

  “If you brought me here to harass me, I’m just going to leave.” I turned on my heels and took a step toward what I thought was the hallway.

  “If you leave, you leave for good.” Her silhouette appeared before the plastic, lazily spinning something in her hand- her blade.

  “Does Micah know you’re doing this?” I asked just above a whisper.

  Her silhouette moved closer to me, forcing me back. I could hear rocks crack under my shoes against the cement as I stepped blindly farther into the darkness.

  “I don’t know how you have him wrapped around your finger, but it ends here.” Her voice was icy as I could feel her glare on me, even in the shadows.

  “What are you even talking about?” I blurted out, sounding more afraid than angry.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, demon whore. Name your price, and get the hell out,” she said. My blood ran cold as I realized this may not just be a mere threat. She wasn’t planning on letting me just walk out.

  “I have no price. I don’t want anything from you or the Nephilim.” That was the truth, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  “Then what the hell do you want?”

  I let the quiet fall between us as I focused on controlling my shaky breaths, my gut told me that this could all tip at any moment, and she was going to get ugly. There would be no turning back after that, and I would have to fight to survive. Just like I did with that Nephilim at Clayton’s basketball game.

  “I’m here because Micah wanted me to be. That is all. So, if you’re done, I’m going to go.” I squared my shoulders and took a step forward, running into her arm as it collided with my chest. I could make out just the tip of her nose in the dim light.

  “You think you get to call the shots,” she sneered.

  “You need to lay off,” I retorted bravely. I tried to push past, but the full force of her hands found my shoulders as she shoved me to the ground. I hit hard, coughing as the air was knocked from my lungs.

  “You are nothing but mud on Micah’s shoe,” she said, seething as she stood over me. The anger built up in me. Like fire, it blazed, filling my throat with burning words.

  “And you’re nothing but a jealous ex,” I snapped. Something struck me hard in the face – so hard my head smacked the ground and bounced off. Stars sparked across my vision as I blinked as I struggled to see. The hit came again, crunching my nose this time, radiating pain throughout my face. I cried out and raised my hands to protect myself, but I was already being hit again in the jaw, sending another crack echoing through my skull. My ear rung as my face pounded with agony. A warmth pooled in my mouth, accompanied by the taste of pennies.

  Laylah snatched me by the jacket and yanked me up off the cement, a familiar sharp pain ached at the base of my throat as she held her knife against me. The smell of cherry blossoms mixed with blood filled my nose. “This is the last time I tell you, scum. Leave town, leave Micah alone, and don’t ever show your face here again.” Her blade cut against my skin and I winced, the pain in my head bewildering as I gagged on my own blood. I should feel defeated. I should feel scared. I should be begging her not to kill me.

  However, she did not know that this was not the fi
rst time I'd been beaten and bloodied. This wasn't the first time I'd been told I wasn't worth anything while someone threatened my life. I spent years of my childhood fighting off people just like her. You can't break someone who has already been broken before, you can only hope they do not use their shattered pieces against you, because they are sharp, and you will lose.

  Besides that point I could sense the power within me whispering as I tasted the blood on my lips. She had no idea of what I had done or what I could do- neither did I could I but I could hear the potential whispering in my blood. Her threats would never work. “No,” I croaked.

  The room fell quiet, and then she laughed. “No?”

  I gagged as I cleared my throat, limp as I lay at her mercy. “I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.” Her blade sliced deeper, and I whimpered, grinding my teeth against the cry I so badly wanted to make.

  “Laylah.” Hamon’s voice echoed. It was deep, dark, and fierce.

  She dropped me instantly, and I fell in a heap to the floor, smacking my head once more as a beaming light suddenly shined on me. I winced at its brightness and raised my hand to shield my face.

  “We don’t hurt our own.” His tone was that of an authoritative figure, someone with influence over many things, including Laylah.

  “She is a threat to us all.” Her tone was less aggressive than a moment ago: submissive, but the acid for me still lingered on her tongue.

  “And you are executioner now? As far as I was aware, the Council pardoned her. You have absolutely no right.” Hamon’s voice was cold. “You will be reported for this. I suggest you make yourself scarce.”

  A moment later, I heard her footsteps retreat, and then there was nothing.

  “Lamia,” Hamon said, suddenly close by. Our altercation became too real as I began to hyperventilate. Laylah almost killed me, almost got what she wanted. “Jesus Ch- I’m so sorry.” He was distraught as I felt his hands on my face. I hissed at his touch. Everything on my face hurt; it hurt just to breathe. “Your jaw is dislocated,” he said. “I can move it but –”

  I nodded, knowing it was going to be painful, but I was already suffering. I wasn’t planning on making a scene or telling the Council. Or telling Micah. It would only draw attention to me – to the fact that I was a nuisance – and could possibly rally people to Laylah’s side, if others who disliked me knew she’d attacked me. It would divide the compound less than a week before the battle, when we needed to band together. I couldn’t let that happen because of me. It’s what Micah would do: think of the needs of the many. There was a pop, and a searing pain spread through me as I gripped Hamon’s hand, anchoring myself as the ache ripped through me. My face was wet with tears and blood. I slowly blinked.

  “Let me get Micah,” he said as he cupped my neck. The slickness soaked the front of my shirt as he applied pressure to the wound.

  All I could think of was Micah seeing me and getting angry. Maybe even attacking Laylah – or worse, doing nothing at all. He said he’d do anything to save my life, but did that include going against his longtime friend, one of his teammates – an old lover? I didn’t want to be put in that position, and I didn’t want to put him in the position of having to make a choice between her or me. I couldn’t stand the thought of it not turning out in my favor, nor how it would tear him apart to know someone close to him attacked me like this. I didn’t want to see him right now. I could handle myself. This wasn’t the first time I’d been attacked and beaten up: the pain I felt now was like an old friend, accompanied by memories of my childhood. It was always the same: no one would believe me, no one would trust me, and no one honestly cared. I wasn’t going to put myself through that.

  “I need to go.” I managed to sit up beside the black edges of my vision as I found Hamon’s stressed face assessing me. I probably looked terrible. I was more terrified of Micah finding me than the pain I’d feel later while trying to heal myself. “Micah has enough on his plate; he doesn’t need to deal with this right now. Laylah is his friend. I’ll tell him when the time is right.”

  Hamon insisted on either me staying and seeking medical help for my wound or just letting him heal me, but I kept pushing his hands away from my throat. My panic took over and I couldn’t think straight. If Micah showed up, if he saw me- I didn’t want him to panic. He’s so happy right now.

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve been beaten to a pulp. Won’t be the last.”

  Hamon scanned me for a long moment, examining my wounded face and neck before he shook his head. “I don't like this, but OK.” He was defeated. “Put pressure on that, and heal yourself when you get home, you hear me?” He helped me up and toward the hallway. Once there, I leaned against the wall because the room appeared to be spinning. Hamon pushed the hair from my face as we beheld to one another.

  “You are something else, Lamia,” he said, a small grin fell across his lips. He seemed astonished at how well I was taking nearly dying. If only he knew this was the fifth time in nearly two months. His green eyes held a deep sympathy as his black hair fell over his brow. He was an attractive man.

  “Tell me about it,” I mumbled, my jaw aching as I spoke. “Nearest exit?”

  “Through these double doors and up the stairs.”

  “Don’t report Laylah,” I mumbled. Not moving my jaw was impossible. “Word will get out, and those who don’t want me here will rally to her cause. It’ll divide the compound, and I don’t want that because of me. Tell Micah I ... threw up or something and went home,” I rambled, and Hamon nodded. I wrapped my plaid shirt around my head like a scarf and zipped my jacket to cover the mess. I pulled him in tight, his rigid frame soon softened as Hamon wrapped me in a soft embrace. Once I let go, I didn’t look back. I ran for the doors, pushed them open, and found my way to the stairs. I knew I could make it home; I’d done it before in worse conditions, but the problem was getting off the compound unnoticed with this many Nephilim around.

  Once outside, I pulled the plaid shirt tighter around my face, staggering as the adrenaline began to wear off and the pounding in my head grew worse. My neck was still bleeding as I tried to act casual while exiting the compound. No one noticed as I headed toward the back fence near the small security shack where they’d kept Asmodeus. As I got to the fence I fell to my knees, out of breath and out of energy. My neck was still bleeding, my face was getting worse, and my jaw hurt immensely. I should have never come here. I crawled through the fence and started running again, holding both hands to my neck, praying I’d reach my apartment before Micah did. If he was even worried. I prayed he wasn’t. He’d worried enough for me. He deserved a night of peace.

  Twenty-Four.

  BLOOD SOAKED MY SHIRT collar as I fumbled for my keys and opened the door to my apartment. Blood loss was really starting to affect my balance as I slid against the wall until I got to the bathroom. The harder my head pounded, the more I regretted leaving without Hamon healing me. I used the first rag I could find, staining it with my dirty red hands as I pressed it to my neck. I shouldn’t have panicked when Hamon found me; I should have let him heal me. It was stupid not to let him, but I was scared. Besides, it felt wrong to ask so much of someone I just met. If Micah had shown up, he’d have gone crazy. Or someone else would have found us, and things would have only turned dark. People would have chosen sides, became enemies in a time when we are supposed to be united.

  We.

  If I learned anything tonight, it’s that I will never be welcomed into the Nephilim, not completely. Not as long as people like Laylah are around. I made it to my bed and managed to climb in, still fully clothed, too dizzy to do anything else. I was so tired, and I felt almost drunk with the blood loss.

  Since I saved Micah the night we were attacked by those Cambions, I can’t seem to get away from the exhaustion. No matter how much sleep, or how well I eat, nothing makes a difference. I haven’t felt like my whole self since then, like a part of me was missing. I couldn’t explain what it was. My hands shook as I pr
essed them to my neck and focused on healing myself. The energy came to my fingertips, but nausea accompanied it. I grew dizzy and before I knew what was happening, I was going. Everything turning black.

  ✽✽✽

  I woke up in bed, surrounded by darkness, and I wasn’t alone. I turned my head to see a man lying next to me. Micah? His hair was light, and his skin was fair, but his eyes – charcoal black.

  “My sweet darling girl,” he said as he stroked my face. “How you have grown like an exotic flower.” He kissed my lips as I lay paralyzed, unable to move away. When he pulled away, his mouth was full of blood. My blood. His teeth were all fangs.

  “We will be together soon, father and daughter once more,” he whispered as his claws grabbed at my neck and squeezed.

  I woke screaming. I was soaking wet with sweat, and my neck ached. I reached up to examine it and found my neck had crusted over like I’d burned it, not healed it. My left eye refused to open at all.

  “Lamia, you all right?” Micah’s voice floated anxiously in the air.

  I peered up as he stumbled into my bedroom, his hair all over the place. He must have been asleep on the couch. I knew I needed his help to heal, but I knew it would only result in an argument. I kept this from him. I turned on my bedside lamp as he rubbed his eyes. As he regarded me the blood drained from his face completely.

  “Lamia.” His voice was breathless as he crawled across the bed to me in a blink. His eyes traveled over my face and grew angry when he accessed my neck. “What happened to you? Is this from last night? How did – why haven’t you healed yourself?” His fingers touched my swollen jaw, and I hissed, turning away.

  “Since I healed you last Tuesday, the night we were attacked, I haven’t been able to heal myself without passing out first,” I mumbled, wincing at the pain that radiated through my teeth.

  He examined my body as he lifted my hands, checking for any other wounds I could possibly have. He didn’t know about the other scars from Tuesday that I was slowly healing, day by day.