The Innocent

by Candice Raquel Lee

  I peeked out at him from between my fingers.

  He gently took my wrists and quoted from Romeo and Juliet: “But soft what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Alexa is the sun . . .” I let him take my hands away from my face. “Oh speak, again bright angel.”

  “I don’t think even Shakespeare is going to do it this time,” I told him. “I mean, can’t we not be Nephilim? Can’t we convert or be exorcized or something? We could call a Rabbi. If that doesn’t work, I’d even be willing to try a priest.”

  “Call me but Love and I’ll be new baptized. Henceforth I will be”—he thought about it, shrugged then peered intently into my eyes —“whatever you want me to be. You’re the magnet. I’m just a pile of metal filings. I move only because of you. I have shape only because of you. Whatever shape you give me. And when you go, I fall apart.”

  When he admitted how much he loved me, what I meant to him, all I could do was throw my arms around him. I didn’t care what he was, or even more correctly, I loved all that he was. I couldn’t imagine him any more perfect. I gave up, and accepted my fate.

  “Then be thy gracious self,” I whispered, “the god of my idolatry.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know,” I said in final acknowledgment. “I love you too.”

  “I’ve eaten so much time,” he breathed in my ear, “devoured so much beauty, gathered so many flowers at the peak of bloom, and yet found no Being worthy of such an offering until I met you.”

  I buried my face in his shoulder, and then the tears came. I cried for everything lost, for everything gained. He kissed my tears away. He held me until I was quiet. Then in the silence something came to mind.

  “So, you read my poems.”

  He stiffened. “How do you know?” he asked, shocked.

  “Abe quoted one to me.”

  “That filthy, sneaking dog. He was in my room going through my things?” he raged.

  “Now you know how I feel,” I said, folding my arms.

  “I read them on Wattpad.”

  “I hadn’t published them yet.”

  “You were going to. I thought they were for me.”

  “They were inspired by you,” I corrected.

  “They’re beautiful. I treasure every one. Thank you,” he said trying to make up.

  “You are not welcome,” I frowned. “But I’m glad you liked them.”

  He opened his arms to me again.

  “I can’t believe you snuck into my room!” I said, hitting him.

  “Oh, come on, Alexa, What else was I going to do while waiting around for the next threat to show up?”

  “Wait, those dreams were real?”

  “Well,” he began, looking away.

  I hit him. “What did you do to me? How did you make me forget?”

  “I had to keep you in the dark. If you got scared and ran away, you’d die.”

  “Die? But if I’d known about all those attacks, I would have believed you.”

  “But you would not have liked knowing you were becoming a succubus. Remember what we just went through?”

  “Oh,” I said, remembering how angry I was at him.

  He looked into my eyes and said, “Remember it all.”

  Then everything came back, all the dreams, all the Nephilim coming through my window, trying to kill me. He had saved my life night after night. I had never really thanked him. I threw my arms around his neck.

  “Thank you,” I said in his ear.

  “For what?” he asked.

  It occurred to me then that he was one of the most selfless people I knew. “For saving my life, for protecting me like a knight would his lady.”

  “Oh that,” he said.

  Then I recalled the white light coming from him.

  “A light came from you . . . What was that?”

  “It’s how I eat,” he said quietly

  “I’ll have to eat like that?” I cried, nearly falling off his lap.

  “No,” he said, catching me. “I told you, that’s over. I haven’t eaten in over a week, and I’m fine.”

  “But I thought incubi feed off sex?” I asked, half-afraid.

  “A long time ago, we had to do that exclusively to survive, but then Tesla created electricity for the succubus he loved. To free her.”

  “Really? Wait. We have a secret history?”

  “A long one. We have rules too. I’ve given the Nephilim of Manhattan four rules to shield our existence from humans.”

  “We need shielding?” I asked.

  He nodded seriously, “I know there are lots of stories about humans and us coexisting, but it will never happen. People are still too tribal. They hate difference. They can barely accept other humans with different colored skin, what would they do about us? No. I am still waiting until both sides are a bit more mature. Our kind can be a bit stupid and savage too,” he said. “That’s why I make sure everybody keeps the rules: No killing humans when we feed. No non-consensual sleep sex. No killing each other where humans can see, and the newest: No killing Innocents, like you.”

  “Like me?” I asked. I wasn’t human anymore? I never was.

  “You’re safe now.”

  “But what was that light that came out of your hands that fixed everything?”

  He shrugged, looked at his palms. “I don’t know. When I was young they called it magic. I’ve been called a warlock more than once and a wizard a few time. Nowadays science would say I manipulate energy.”

  “Wow. Can you teach me how to do that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know how I do it. It’s a gift. Each of us gets our own gifts when we change.”

  “What are mine?” I asked, excited.

  “We’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Was that why the others were after me?” I asked.

  “They wanted your energy. It’s transformative. If they were able to access it, they would have become even more powerful than those hundreds of years older than themselves.”

  I sat stunned.

  “Don’t worry. You’ve sprung your wings. You’re safe,” he said, trying to hold me tighter, but those things got in the way.

  “How do I get rid them? I feel like a freak,” I cried, standing up.

  “You look like an angel,” he said, admiring me. “You’re lucky you don’t live in a coed dorm or the guys would have been lined up around the corner to kiss your feet by the time I got here.”

  “Stop trying to make me like them,” I sulked.

  “I like them,” he said, his voice deepening. He reached up and slid his fingers over them, sending a thrill through me.

  “But they keep popping in and out. It could get embarrassing if we go out.”

  “Who wants to go out when you have wings?” he asked, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing it.

  I yanked it away. “I want to get rid of them.”

  “First, they only show up at night. We sleep all day and are very human looking in daylight. So, to get rid of them is very simple. Wish them away when you don’t want them. They’ll come back when you need them or want them any time in the evening.”

  I was thinking about them going when he shouted, “But not right now!”

  Virgin Flight

  “Let’s take them for a spin,” he said.

  “But I’m afraid of heights.”

  “It’s like falling off a log,” he assured me.

  “I don’t like falling.”

  “You’ll love this.” He took me by the wrist and started dragging me to the window. “I won’t let you fall, but more importantly, you won’t let you fall. Come. Trust me.”

  I shook my head and used my meager weight against him all the way. “Are you crazy?” I asked him. “I’m no bird.’

  He stopped and faced me again as he leaned on the sill. “Come on. I know you can do it.”

  He dragged me another step forward, trying to close the double arm length gap between us. I lost my grip on the towel for a sec
ond. He stared as I caught the cloth and yanked it back up sort of. He blinked and let me go.

  “Maybe, you should change, before I have a heart attack,” he suggested.

  “Bye,” I said, running away to the bathroom and locking it.

  “I have all night to wait for you,” he said through the door, “and remember no lock can withstand me. I’m giving you two minutes.

  No lock, huh? That explained a lot. I came out and was greeted by his arrogant smile. I pushed past him and opened my closet a little bit. I did not want him to see what a mess it was. I ended up on my knees going through my belongings. I finally found a top, a pair of jeans, and a wool hat. Then it was back to the bathroom. I had to step into my top to pull it on, but the rest was easier to wear. I shook my head when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked ridiculous. I couldn’t go out like this.

  “One minute left,” he yelled. I opened the door.

  Cristien was crouched on my window ledge. In his left hand he had the empty duffle bag I used for laundry. He had gone in my closet? Oh great. His other hand was held toward me. He was going to try and get me to step out of the window? Was he nuts? He shook his fingers at me. I still didn’t move.

  “Are you going to make me come over there?” he asked, getting huffy.

  With shaking knees and shakier dignity I took the few steps necessary to touch his fingertips. He grabbed my hand firmly and pulled me to the window. The April air that blew through my hair was still a bit cold. I looked down at the concrete below. I was going to die.

  “Try not to scream. I know how noisy you can be,” he said falling. He took me with him, screaming of course.

  “Cristien!” I yelled as I fell.

  Then my wings started flapping. They caught air and Cristien dragged me up toward the heights.

  “Relax,” he said, smiling down at me. I was clinging to his arm for dear life. His words meant nothing. “They aren’t going to let you fall. And neither am I. Let’s go.”

  He yanked again, and I flapped my wings. I did start moving up a little and even carrying some of my own weight. I was awkward but going in the right direction.

  “Good,” he said, encouragingly. “Very good.”

  I was panting already and wanting to give up, but he kept cheering me along. He ended up towing me like a giant kite. Slowly though, I started to feel my wings and their relationship to the air. I began to understand how they could hold it and thus hold me up. Cristien made me practice rising and falling over the dorm rooftop, dipping my wings and hunching them. Soon, I was able to enjoy myself a little. I found that if I ran, with my wings tipped up just so, I could glide on the air before I panicked and collapsed to the tar paper. I even let go of Cristien from time to time when we were over something not too far below.

  He showed off again and again, leaping into the air fearlessly. He even did a cannon ball off the roof while I watched from the ledge. He was supposed to be teaching me, giving me examples. Showoff. All I could do was jump and flutter, but I was flying. Flying. It dawned on me while I floated, hanging tenuously in the air that I was really flying. I landed and started to laugh.

  “See, I knew you would love it,” he told me, lifting my fear-limp arms and throwing them around his neck.

  I looked up into his shining eyes and felt my heart grow, expand, to accommodate this newer, stronger love for him. I adored him, my flying incubus, my friend, my teacher and soon my lover.

  “Come on,” he said, taking me to the edge again. I went with him without comment. I knew then that I would follow him anywhere.

  Once I could maintain myself twenty feet above the ground, he forced me away from the safety of the roof. I tried not to see the ground below. Doing that inevitably caused me to rock unsteadily and lose all sense of balance.

  “Look up, up,” he instructed gently, squeezing my hand.

  There are not that many stars visible in the ashy New York sky because of all the lights, but the ones that were visible were heavenly. I aimed for them. That was where my heart was soaring anyway. I was simply following it.

  The night? The night was like looking into God’s eyes. The buildings sparkled beside us. The streets were far beneath us. I was overawed. I could fly. It was the greatest gift ever. I could fly. I never wanted to come down. I lost all my fears and raised my head, and I rose. My wings obeyed and lifted me. Cristien came with me, guessing what I wanted. We flew up higher than the buildings, and then we looked at each other and dipped our wings and swooped down, then up again. It was a roller coaster ride without limits.

  The air felt delicious on my sweaty skin. Everything was perfect. We landed and took off from a couple of rooftops. I fell a few times and had really wobbly take offs, but I got better each time. Then Cristien said, “Down.”

  “Why?” I asked, rocking through the air.

  “I want to get my car.”

  “Why do you have a car when you have wings?” I wondered out loud.

  “If I want to go out in the day or shop at night, this is hard work. You’ll feel it later. Come on. Enough for tonight.”

  He had us land. Well, he landed. I stumbled forward, and he caught me. We were in a back alley near my dorm. He pulled my jacket from my bag.

  “Hey, where did you get that?” I cried.

  “I prepared.”

  “That’s not going to help,” I told Mr. Smug. “I can’t get that over my wings.”

  His disappeared then. He untied his shirt from around his waist and pulled it on.

  “Okay, tell them to go away,” he said, buttoning up.

  It sounded stupid. “Okay, I want them to go away.”

  And, poof, they were gone.

  “Cool,” I sputtered, as he helped me on with my jacket.

  “Come on,” he said, taking my hand and swinging it.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my place, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  We were back in his room in a half an hour.

  “Wish them back,” he whispered after he’d torn off his shirt and sprouted his own. He was kneeling on the bed before me. I wished, and he sighed when my wings blossomed. He moved forward.

  “Wait,” I said, putting up my hand. “It’s my turn.” I hadn’t touched his wings at all. I reached out, curious.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  He turned a little, so I could have better access to them. I didn’t know where to begin. Wings were such foreign territory. I glided my fingers over his shoulder following the angle of the bone. His breath escaped in a long hiss. He leaned forward on his hands. The skin of his wings was smooth like silk. I spread one out then glanced back at him. His eyes were closed. I pressed my cheek against his warmth, ran my lips down his wing to the tip. It trembled under my tiny touches. I let my hair drape over it. He turned and grabbed me.

  I shook my head, “I’m not done yet.”

  “I don’t know if I can take any more,” he said, his eyes feverish. But he obeyed. He knelt down again.

  I bent over him, and then just for the fun of it I licked his wing. He brought me down to the bed.

  “You really don’t want to wait till the wedding night, do you?” he said, close to my lips.

  I laughed, brushed the back of my nails against his wing skin. An expression almost like pain crossed his face.

  “That’s it,” he said, and fell on me. He grabbed me and flipped me over. He sat on me again, and his tongue slipped up my spine. I hissed. His lips caressed my wings, and I understood what he meant. I started dragging myself from under him.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” he told me, “You’ve been torturing me for weeks. It’s payback time.”

  I kept wishing them away but my wings went nowhere. I ended with fistfuls of his sheets in my hands, screaming: “No more. It’s too much, too much!”

  He finally let me up. He flipped me over again to face him. He kissed me hard. I ran my hands through his hair, until he fell beside me.

  “So, our w
ings are big erogenous zones?” I asked after I caught my breath.

  “Seems like,” he chuckled.

  “You didn’t know?” I raised my head to look at him.

  “No, no one has ever touched them before.”

  “Oh,” I said, happy, but thoughtful. I turned to him. “But you’ve been with people, haven’t you?”

  His lids lowered a little before he said, “I’ve never loved any of them. None of them has come as close to me as you have.”

  I put my head on his chest. His heartbeat slowed under my ear. He kissed my hair. I tried to imagine all of that time without being loved, without loving anyone. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked.

  I considered what to say. “For not coming sooner.”

  “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

  I supposed so. I fell asleep in his arms.

  “You want me to drive you to school, or do you want to stay here all day?” I asked Alexa, Friday morning. She was still sleeping, tangled up in my sheets, her hair everywhere. She looked like a fallen angel even without her wings. She rolled over and frowned at me, then went back to sleep. She was becoming succubus and like all Nephilim was not a morning person. I had to tread lightly. So, I tried again.

  “Honey?”

  She swung her arm at me, “Go away.”

  “Come on, be a good girl. Breakfast is ready.”

  The first night she slept over I had stayed up making a wax version of her ring. I had spent the day making the mold. This morning I was going to pour the gold. I had to get to the foundry, and I wanted to arrive early to figure everything out. I didn’t want to lose a minute. Everything had to be perfect. I had finalized all the other plans for Sunday.

  “Alexa?”

  She pushed herself up, blinked at me while she flipped her dark hair back. The sheet outlined every curve of her body. Its white glowed against her skin, snow and honey. Her lips were puffy with sleep, her eyes sultry. She looked like a tousled Aphrodite, rising from the foam. Ye gods, if I didn’t have that ring to make, I’d be glued to her all day.

  “Okay,” she finally said.

  I gave her the duffle bag with the clothes I had taken from her closet. She showered and got dressed, then shuffled to the kitchen and ate.