by Kiki Howell
"What? You can't drown."
"Well, not in regular, run of the mill, water. I am a demon, after all, and thereby still shunned from His light. I'm not an angel. I'm of the Fallen. I won't die, but I'll be incapacitated and vulnerable. I can't just do this anywhere."
Tristan folded his arms. "And you're trusting me?"
She sighed. "It would appear I don't have much of a choice, vampire. Bully for you."
Tristan shook his head in disbelief. They used to be angels. How could holy things hurt them? "I don't understand. Didn't you all choose to fall? To protect humanity from us?"
Zoë, with a stoic face, nodded. "Yes."
His expression stilled and grew serious. "So, wouldn't that somehow absolve you from being victim to those rules of being a demon?"
Zoë rolled up her sleeves and looked up to the majestic crucifix in front of her. Many times that question had been asked and every Black Blood Demon was ashamed of the answer. The curse about legends is that the horrid pieces are always omitted out to make a better story. It was that omission throughout the centuries of existence that almost tricked her into believing the same half truth as well. All her brethren were fools to think they were anything more.
"I wish that was true." She cut her eyes to him. "Gimme your blade."
"For what?"
Zoë sighed. "This would go a lot faster if you didn't ask so many questions. This should be fun for you." She leaned in and smiled. "You get to see me suffer and nearly kill me. I imagine that would give you quite a thrill, as it would any vampire."
Tristan reached in his boot, pulled out his knife, and handed it to her handle first. "I'm not a sadist, and I don't get off on others suffering."
She scoffed. "That's rich coming from a creature who feeds and slowly drains the lifeforce out of their victims. You mean to tell me that wouldn't have been you luring that poor, drunken woman to her death?"
"She's a big girl. You take a stranger home, you pay the price," Tristan replied sharply. He had no time to mourn human folly. Everyone lived and died by their mistakes. He was no different.
His cold response filled her with disgust. It never ceased to amaze her how calloused vampires could be. Appearing to look human was the closest to actual humanity the blood-suckers would ever get again. Perhaps the old scripts were right; they were beyond redemption.
Zoë cleared her throat realizing an argument could abruptly end their shaky partnership.
"In any event, this needs to be done, and unfortunately, I cannot do it without your help. I'm not able to do this willingly." She unhooked the belt holster and handed it to him.
Tristan hoisted the belt over his shoulder, watching her with scrutiny. "So you want me to hold you down and drown you in holy water?" He looked into her eyes and saw no insincerity. "You're right. Sounds fun. Let's get to it."
"Wait, there's something else." Zoë glared at him. "So this is when things get a bit messy, blood sucker. I need to provide a small sacrifice... your blood."
Tristan drew his gun, his eyes flared bright as she stepped back. "I don't think so, princess."
"Don't be such a baby, I only need a few drops. It's just how it works—but usually, the vampire is dead. You living, proves for more complications."
He scoffed. This demon was a piece of work, in more ways than one. "Sorry to disappoint you, bleeding heart."
She kicked off her heels, twirling Tristan's curved dagger in her hand, cavalier as if she was born to handle it. "I'm serious. Vampires and Black Bloods are drawn to each other's blood. It makes us want to kill you, and we're designed to do just that."
"You'll try to lure me again, won't you?" He thought about his options, and there weren't really any except for the obvious. It didn't matter. The outcome would be the same. They would try to kill each other.
And one would succeed.
If he failed, that would be that for him. If she failed, he would have to live with failing. Mr. Darkness does love his games.
Fuck it. Tristan stood next to Zoë as they both looked into the pool. Slowly, Tristan held out his hand where Zoë held it over the pool. "Okay. Do it."
She sat on the edge of the baptistry. Discomfort already shown on her face. "If I shed your blood, I'll want to enthrall you again, so you have to be quick to keep me in the water."
Zoë held the blade over his palm, almost hovering as she gazed into him. "I'm going to be really strong at first. If you can hold on, my strength will eventually subside." Her other hand gripped under his palm. He looked up to find concerned, but firm violet eyes. "But if you can't, it will be hard not to try and kill you. And I will come for you."
Tristan opened his coat to reveal his gun, showing no signs of relenting. "I know."
Zoë nodded as they both understood each other. She quickly slid the knife across his palm as Tristan hissed. As the deep red blood spilled into the water, Zoë followed the flow as it ran down his finger. A moan escaped her lips as she grabbed his hand.
Tristan tensed as the slick texture of her tongue ran across the pad of his fingertip, tasting his blood. The warm, wet sensation of such a seductive gesture made his groin tighten. That dark look in her vixen eyes were somewhat familiar as she slightly parted her legs wider in an open invitation.
Groaning, he felt the pull of his body closer to her. Shit. Shock forced him to snap out of the budding trance. "What are you doing?"
Tristan reached for his gun when Zoë quickly put her hand over his to stop him. Her eyes were bright violet as she stayed trained on him like the most delicious prey. Her fangs were drawn, and his blood smudged on her full lips. Her dark laugh echoed through the little, white church as she replied with a sinister, disembodied voice.
"Just savoring the flavor, cowboy." She outstretched her arms and fell backward into the baptism pool.
With no time to waste, Tristan jumped in after her. As she tried to raise up from the water, he quickly grabbed her by his shirt. Smoke and mist rose from the surface, and the pool that once was cold began to escalate in temperature.
Her arms reached upwards as her talon-like nails lashed out to his face. Tristan growled at the intensity of his flesh being torn across his cheek. Zoë started to thrash about, flinging the water across the church. Her deep, demonic voice yelled and screamed in agony as Tristan wrestled her down, holding her down with every bit of strength he had. She clawed and pushed him, but Tristan didn't let go, despite the pool beginning to bloody with his injuries.
Tristan gritted his teeth as he watched her. His mind contemplated what logic had been trying to scream at him since the moment he realized what she was.
When she weakens, all I have to do is put two in her chest, and this will be over. Why am I keeping a deadly Black Blood alive?
He growled as he shook the thoughts away, but they kept coming back. The only sliver of salvation he had was the fact that, so far, she'd put herself in just as much risk as he had.
As her shirt began to rip against the struggle, he quickly wrapped his hands around her delicate throat and clenched, pushing her down further into the water until they both were submerged.
Watching her as the bubbles from her mouth violently escaped to the surface, her eyes shot open with deep sadness in her eyes. The expression was so haunting he nearly froze. In those eyes laid a window to pain. His pain. An image of Vidonia pleading with him to stay flashed in his mind, before it followed with him cradling her body in his arms.
Ivana visited him next as she smiled from the corner of her lips, only to later lie bloody and motionless on the altar.
Zoë clutched her hands around his arms, digging into his skin as Tristan held fast. He shut his eyes, looking away until her thrashing finally subsided. Tristan slowly opened his eyes as he felt her locking grip on his arms loosen and slide off of him.
He gently loosened his grip around her neck and quietly backed off as everything went silent. Not even the hum of the window units was heard as Tristan stared at her curving, regal body susp
ended, motionless in front of him. Her long, auburn hair swayed in the water like dancing flames. She was an ethereal but dark angelic force that Tristan couldn't take his eyes from.
Still standing in the baptistry, he cautiously backed up, drew his gun, and aimed it at her ready for the unexpected.
Zoë laid still in the smoky, hot water, her mind becoming a deprivation chamber. Closed off from stimuli, a wave of serenity washed over her and darkness became a sought haven as glimpses of memories and voices that hid in that void suddenly came to light.
Remelia.
"I was supposed to protect her."
The red grimoire.
"We can't let anyone get their hands on this book."
Her insubordination.
"This isn't your fight."
"You will pay the price for your disobedience!"
The Three.
"The vampires want an uprising. And I'm going to stop it."
With the images and memories came the flood of emotions. Anger. Fear. Hate. Like the Furies themselves tormented her, she was compelled to wring every drop of emotion from her heart. She was right; something dark was brewing with the vampires and other Supes. She stood in the center of the storm.
And now it was time to go to work.
Still suspended in the pool, Zoë's eyes shot open and all of the lights and candles in the quaint little church blew out, putting a soaking wet Tristan on alert. Standing vigilant, Tristan stepped back as the foundation of the baptistry cracked beneath his feet. Not taking his aim off Zoë, he stepped over the edge of the pool and hopped out.
Water flew up to the ceiling as Zoë suddenly sat up from the pool, screaming. The edges of the baptistry shattered and cracked, releasing the water in a flood against the oak pews and pulpit. Tristan braced his footing as the wave rushed and crashed against his boots.
Looking around with new eyes, she realized now why she was drawn to the church. She had been there many times before. It was a checkpoint where Black Bloods would meet an ally—a human who assisted them on the mortal coil.
Other memories started to come to vision as Zoë slowly rose to her feet, steam rising off her drenched, half naked body. Her hair now dark from saturation, fell like curtains around her oval face, but her violet eyes were clearly visible and trained on Tristan.
"I know who Remelia is."
"That makes six of us!" A loud, but slightly muffled female voice called their attention to the front of the church. Tristan and Zoë turned to see four women standing at the doors. Two of them held silver chains with little barbs between the links in their hands. They were vampire shackles. It was hard to tell which spoke because all of them wore grim reaper, half face masks, but Tristan saw the green pentagrams on the arms of their jackets and it was clear who they were.
"Green Girls!" he snarled, feeling his fangs extend. His aim immediately shifted to them, but Zoë put her hand on top of the gun to stop him.
"Don't!" she commanded.
Tristan cut his eyes to her. "Have you lost your fucking mind?" At the same time, two Green Girls stepped forward with silver orbs in their hands and Tristan froze.
"Uh uh uh," the woman in the middle warned. "Make another move and we'll light your ass up, vamper.
Zoë shook her head in defiance. "They are human," she whispered. "I can't harm them, and neither will you." She countered his icy gaze with one of her own. "I will not allow it." She turned to face the four witches, her face softening as not to scare them. "We mean no harm, so just take it easy."
One witch stepped forward, her gun complete with a suppressor in her hand. Her blonde ponytail was pulled high atop her head and her black-clad body moved deliberately slow. Her combat boots clomped gently on the wet, hardwood floor as she got a bit closer, then stopped just shy of Tristan and Zoë. The witch's coffee eyes darted between them both and saw no trust among them.
"We've been looking for the vampire Tristan. Word has it that you have insight to our Supreme's whereabouts, now where is she?"
"Not a fucking clue, but if I was a betting man I would say to start with who gave you that bad information. I had nothing to do with her disappearance."
The witch shook her head in disbelief. "You and the redhead were just mentioning her name, vamper. Do I look like a fool? She went missing, and so did her grimoire. I know you blood sucking shits have drooled over getting your sticky hands on either one of them, so I ask you again. Where is Remelia?"
Zoë stepped forward. "Look, I don't know what happened to her, but I know I was supposed to protect her. Let me help you."
As she tried to step forward, the witch cocked her gun and shifted the aim toward Zoë. Holding her hands up, she paused with brewing anger on her face. She was growing tired of having guns in her face. She wished she was immune to blessed rounds, but being technically a demon was a bitch.
"Don't get cute. You can help by staying out of my way, fallen. This shit doesn't concern you, and frankly, I'm a bit confused and disgusted I'd find you with this parasitic sack of shit. In any case, between the white light and these blessed bullets, I will put you in your place." She turned to meet Tristan's reflective eyes and scoffed. "And you, handsome devil, are coming with us."
Tristan slowly shook his head. If he went with them, he'd never come back. He could tell in their mannerisms they had their minds made up.
With a confident smirk on his face, he replied. "There's no way in hell. Back off. You're being played, and I'm being set up. Who told you I had Remelia? The Three? I didn't touch your Supreme. Now let us go."
The witch pulled down her face mask to reveal a sullen, but furious face. "You will tell us what you know, vamper. Or we have ways of getting you to talk."
"You'll have to catch me first, Green Girl," he responded sharply, a pretense of a challenge deep in his tone.
The sound of a pump action weapon suddenly cocked behind Tristan and made everyone tense immediately. Apparently, someone else decided to join the party.
"What the hell is going on in my house of the Lord?!" A young, tall man in a bleached white, dress shirt stood a few feet from them. Near the pulpit, his short barreled shotgun aimed at all of them with equal discrimination. That is, until he and Zoë locked eyes.
The preacher's deep, hazel eyes briefly softened, before it twisted into a firm scowl seeing Tristan and the witches.
What the hell did Zoë get herself into now?
"I said what the hell is going on here? What are you all doin' in my church? Somebody better start talking."
The head witch still had her weapon drawn but backed up slowly. "Put the gun down preacher. Don't do anything stupid. We only came for them, and this isn't your business."
The preacher rolled his tongue across his teeth, then shook his head at her command. His eyes caught the pentagrams on their sleeves and swore under his breath. "You're in my house of worship uninvited. So this is my business. Now I need all of you out of my church or—"
The witch scoffed. "Or what, preacher man? Gonna shoot us, your holiness? Gonna sic the fire and brimstone on us?" The other witches joined in her laughter. "I'm gonna tell you what you're gonna do, preacher man. You're gonna drop the gun and back away while we take these two with us. Don't make us hurt an innocent. Cause we will."
The preacher sighed and cut his eyes to Zoë, the vampire, and the witches. He wanted to laugh. It sounded like a bad joke. A Black Blood Demon, a vampire and four witches walk into a bar...
He had no idea what was going on, but in any event, he only really gave a shit about one of them. He glanced up at the two, inconspicuous, red boxes attached to the ceiling. Everyone in his congregation thought they were fire alarms. Guess in a way, they were.
"Welp. I was hoping it wouldn't come to that type of thing. You see, I'm not much of an innocent, darlin'. And I don't like evil witches in my house!"
With a swiftness, the preacher aimed and blasted one of the boxes, releasing a thick smoke into the church. Coughing, the witches backed up but sta
rted firing their weapons through the haze of tear gas. The preacher grabbed Zoë's arm and pulled her. "Let's get the hell outta here!"
Tristan didn't hesitate as he saw an orb fly through the sky towards him. Turning on his heel, he leaped over the pulpit and shielded himself against the blast of light as the silver orb ignited sending silver shrapnel across the pulpit.
As the witches gagged and fired blindly through the church, he seized the opportunity to push himself away from behind the podium and follow the preacher and Zoë out the back door, when a flash of light hit the side of his body. Tristan hissed at the searing of his exposed skin, but continued out the back exit and to the parking lot.
Zoë and The preacher ran to a black, super duty truck and beeped the alarm to unlock it. He jumped in the driver's seat as she circled around to the passenger's side.
"Dammit, Z, what the hell have you done where even the witches hate you now?" He kicked on the engine as he saw Tristan run towards them. Zoë clenched his arm. "Wait! He has to come with us!"
He gave her a 'WTF' look; his eyes blinking in confusion. "Fuck that! You know I don't deal with vampires! Last time I checked, neither did you!"
Seeing the witches on his tail, Zoë pulled the preacher closer with clenched teeth. "We're bound together, Jay. He has to come with us. He has to, so let him in! Now!"
Jay slammed his door as Tristan jumped into the back seat, just before pinning the pedal. The grinding sound of gravel popped against the tires as they burned through the street and into the night.
.
Chapter Ten: Spellbound
ZOË AND TRISTAN violently shifted against the truck door as Jay skidded around the corner and took a left through a red light. A cacophony of blaring horns and blazing headlights surrounded them for a moment until Jay managed to cross onto the other side of the street.
"This is bullshit!" he shouted as he turned another corner. "I don't hear from you in days, then all of a sudden you show up wrecking my church with this asshole! Then you got witches coming around all pissed off! What the hell is going on?"
