Incubus (The Daughters Of Lilith)

by Jennifer Quintenz

  “Don’t,” I said. “Seth, just—hang tight. We’re coming.”

  I stood and faced Lucas. Lucas nodded once; he wasn’t leaving either. “The secret door?” he asked. He didn’t need my response. It was the only option.

  “Cassie, go back to your car,” I said. I didn’t stand around to see if she obeyed. We raced around the side of the mission to the place where the secret door should be. Only we couldn’t find it. We wasted minute after precious minute looking for it.

  Finally, Lucas shook his head. “We’re running out of time.”

  I glanced at the crest. That line of silver edging the mountain ridge was bright, heralding the coming moonrise. I looked back at the mission and bit my lip, thinking. It was a solid building, much more of a fortress than I’d ever considered before. The high garden wall, maybe 10 feet tall, skirted the back of the mission. The walls were sheer cliffs of stucco, with no available hand or foot holds until maybe 15 feet up the sides, where support beams for the balcony level protruded from the sides of the mission. The only real weaknesses were the windows. The stained glass I’d kicked the Thrall out of earlier was on the other side of the garden wall—but anyone inside would see me coming. The other stained glass windows were at the top of the sanctuary.

  “You’ve got to get in there,” Lucas said in a strained voice.

  I spun on him, out of patience. “I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Step through the dream world.”

  It wasn’t what I’d expected him to say, and for a moment I could only gape at him.

  “You’ve done it before,” Lucas said, reading my face. It was technically true. I’d stepped through the dream world out of desperation, knowing my father’s life hung in the balance. Leaving aside the fact that I wasn’t sure how I’d done it the first time, there was a bigger obstacle facing us than Lucas realized.

  “I—I cant,” I said.

  “Excuse me?” Lucas gave me an incredulous look.

  “I can’t do it,” I repeated. “We have to find another way in.”

  “There is no other way,” Lucas said, raising his voice. “So unless you want the final battle to start tonight, you’d better—”

  “I don’t have the energy,” I said, cutting him off.

  Lucas grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to meet his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

  Shame burned in my cheeks. “You asked me not to visit your dreams, and I’ve never gone to anyone else—” I swallowed. “It felt—It felt like cheating.”

  Lucas released me. He looked suddenly ill. “You’re telling me—?”

  “Even if I knew how I did it the first time, I couldn’t do it now. I’d need a solid week of dreams to build up that kind of power—”

  “Take it from me,” Lucas said. The muscle of his jaw jumped again. He knew exactly what he was offering. “Kiss me.”

  “No.” A vision flooded my head; a field of black roses, stretching as far as the eye could see. If I kissed him, if I allowed myself to draw the energy I’d need to step through the dream, I’d risk doing Lucas permanent damage—and I’d risk burning through the last shreds of my humanity.

  “You see an alternative?”

  “Not this—”

  “You think I want this?” Lucas met my gaze solemnly. “We have one shot to stop a horde of Lilitu from flooding into this world and it expires as soon as the moon crests that mountain.”

  I could almost feel the moonlight pressing against the mountain behind us, threatening to flood over the crest at any second.

  “That much energy—” I looked deep within his eyes. “I’ll hurt you, Lucas.”

  “Do what you have to do.” He was willing to sacrifice whatever was needed to keep the seal from opening. A swell of emotion rose through me.

  I faced Lucas, bringing my hands up to cradle his face. He flinched slightly, his bravado slipping. He was afraid, but he kept his feet planted firmly on the ground. I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. I pulled back and saw the confusion behind his eyes.

  “Tell my dad I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  I turned and ran toward the garden wall surrounding the mission. I planted a foot against a protruding stone in the wall and kicked off with my other foot. The force of the kick propelled me up the side of the wall and I just managed to loop my hands over the top. Pain shot through the palm of my injured hand, but I pulled with all my strength and scrabbled clumsily up to the top of the wall.

  “Braedyn?!” Lucas shouted from the ground below. I didn’t look back.

  I ran along the top of the wide wall and leapt for one of the protruding beams. I misjudged the distance, landing hard across the beam and jack-knifing around it. Reflexively, I clutched my body around the beam and miraculously kept from falling. I drew in a painful breath, then swung one leg around to straddle the beam. Carefully, I stood, pressing my palms against the stucco wall for balance. From this vantage point, I could just barely touch the edge of the Mission’s roof. I took a deep breath and jumped. As soon as my feet left the beam, a paralyzing fear coursed through my body. If I missed, I’d fall nearly three stories onto the packed earth below. I felt my body shift as gravity started to pull me back down.

  Convulsively, I threw my arms out, trying to grab hold of the edge of the roof. I slid back, stucco scraping into the skin of my forearms-but my hands latched around the roof’s edge. I had to pull myself up with my arms. My muscles burned, and the pain in my palm blazed white hot with the effort—but I was able to pull myself up to the edge of the roof. I rolled over the lip of the mission’s roof, landing on the hard stucco surface. I collapsed back, my body pooling like liquid. For a few moments I just lay there, sucking in deep gulps of air. I felt an instant’s gratitude for Hale, Gretchen, Matthew, and their ruthless training schedule.

  No time to wait for my heart to slow. I stood and edged along the roof toward the stained glass windows set into the walls of the sanctuary’s elevated ceiling. The windows glowed from within, and I could make out the figures of saints against the night sky.

  One of the figures near the end of a line of windows caught my eye. A woman, holding an arrow over her heart. It was the figure poised over the balcony where Lucas and I had stolen a moment’s privacy all those long months ago on the field trip. I made my way to the window, then searched the roof for something I could use to break it. There was nothing.

  I stared at the window.

  It’s only a short fall, I told myself. Just to the balcony. Maybe eight feet down. No problem.

  I pulled the back of my sweater up, wrapping it around my head and shielding my face with my arms. I took a deep breath. Then I ran straight for the stained glass window, twisting at the last second to impact it with my shoulder.

  I crashed through the glass and my first thought was one of triumph—the thick sweater had proved an effective shield for my head and face. But then I began to fall, my arms pin wheeling, and I realized I’d overshot the balcony. The railing whizzed past my head, too fast for me to reach out and make a grab for it. I was plummeting toward the stone floor and death or serious injury below—when the strangest thing happened.

  Time slowed.

  I had an unwelcomed moment to consider my immediate future. Shards of falling glass twinkled in the air around me, shimmering like diamonds suspended mid-air. We fell together, slowly, slowly. I found I could force my body to move, even though it was trapped in this molasses-slow stream of time. I twisted against the gravity pulling my body down. I managed to get my legs under me before I connected with the ground. Each second was drawn out. My ankles bent, then my knees, then my hips, each joint doing what it could to absorb as much of the shock of my fall as possible. I felt my muscles bunching, my sinews straining against the force of the impact. And then the critical moment passed, and the force of impact lessened. I had survived. I saw Seth, lying bound on the floor by the mission’s massive oak entrance. His eyes were locked above me, face registering shock. Ever so slowly,
his eyes trailed downwards. Just as I realized time really had slowed-

  It kicked back to real-time. I fell forward, sprawling on the floor in surprise.

  “Braedyn!” Seth shouted.

  I heard a meaty impact and searing pain lanced into my leg, sending a shockwave through my body. A horrible, guttural scream tore itself from my throat. I whipped my head around to see the gleaming length of stained glass protruded from my thigh. I stared at it, paralyzed by the sight.

  And then my eyes shifted, and I saw him.

  The stranger. The man who’d set Angela’s office ablaze. He sat on the steps of the alter, just beyond the seal. Watching me.

  The seal. I realized-with a roiling wave of panic-the vessel was gone. Without the salt from the vessel, I couldn’t stop the ritual. The door might not open instantly, but once moonlight struck the seal, the ritual would be complete. The ancient magic would work on the seal slowly until dawn. And then the seal would no longer prevent Lilitu from entering this world by the thousands.

  “No,” I whispered. The world seemed to tilt. My head was spinning. Dimly, I knew this was shock. I’d taken a serious injury and my body was trying to cope with the trauma by numbing my senses. But I needed my head clear.

  I closed my hand around the base of the large glass shard buried in my thigh. I pulled. The glass came free in a slick rush of blood, and another wave of adrenaline slammed through my system. I felt my nostrils flare, and my vision seemed to sharpen.

  I reached for the daggers I’d tucked into the back of my belt. My hand closed on thin air. I must have lost them in the fall. Desperate, I scanned the floor, but I couldn’t pick out my daggers amid the scattered shards of glass.

  Across the room, the stranger spoke. “I wondered if you would return,” he said. His voice, though soft, was full of power. He drew a sword from its scabbard. The soft metallic ringing sent a chill through my bones.

  And then, as though he had all the time in the world, the stranger stood.

  Chapter 19

  Blood seeped through my fingers, still clamped tightly against my leg. The adrenaline was doing its job; pain receded from the front of my mind and I was able to scan the sanctuary, taking silent inventory of my options. They were few. Votives cast a flickering glow around the seal even as they chased dark shadows into the corners of the sanctuary.

  The stranger moved toward me, the tip of his sword just inches from the ground. Something about the way he carried it left no doubt in my mind; he was a master swordsman, and I had only moments to get out of his reach.

  I planted my good foot against the stone column to my left and kicked. At the same time, I thrust my arms forward, doing my best to aim my body toward the only shelter I could see. The force of the kick sent me sliding across the slick stone floor toward the pews Seth and I had crowded at the back of the sanctuary earlier that day. My aim was true. I reached the edge of the pews as the stranger’s footsteps pounded against the floor behind me. I scrambled under the first heavy pew, every nerve in my body buzzing with the need to get away from him.

  The pews were long and solid. Every four feet or so, a pair of sturdy legs propped up the pew, straining to support the weight of the thick wooden bench. I grabbed onto the feet, using them like a horizontal ladder to pull myself forward rung by rung, shimmying farther under the pew for protection.

  I reached out for the next leg-when the entire length of the pew lifted off of me. I bit back a scream whipping onto my back. The stranger had hauled the pew up and sent it flying to one side. It hit another pew, the force of their collision knocking both pews over. They impacted against the floor with a resounding crash. The stranger glanced down at me, unfazed by the effort it must have taken to toss the massive pew aside. Panic drove me to move. I rolled under the bank of pews, desperate for whatever shelter they could provide, knowing it was only a temporary reprieve. I felt his hand close around my shoe, but I twisted my foot and kicked back, hard. My shoe came off in his hand. I scrambled deeper under the mass of pews, back toward the front of the sanctuary. My eyes lit on the small rose carving, the release to the secret door. If I was going to survive this, I needed to get out of here. Now.

  I heard wood scraping harshly against the floor as the stranger picked up another pew and tossed it aside. I clawed my way forward, fingernails digging uselessly for purchase against stone. I reached the edge of the pews, hauled myself free, and stood.

  I choked back another scream as white-hot agony shot through my leg. I forced my body to move, darting across the seal toward the mission’s secret entrance. I couldn’t afford to look back. I poured everything into reaching that far wall, that small carving of the rose.

  Each step shot arcs of pain through my leg, but I shoved the pain to the back of my mind. My vision blurred at the edges, my breath coming ragged and forced. But, somehow, I reached the carving. I pushed my good hand flat against the rose, felt the slight give as a latch released within the wall.

  And then he caught me.

  He grabbed the back of my sweater and whipped me around like a rag doll. I hit the ground, rolling back across the seal and skidding to a stop in front of the bank of pews I’d just escaped from.

  Stunned, I couldn’t do more than roll onto my back. Red and gold swirls clouded my vision. I could hear him coming, but my senses were disoriented. I reached a hand up to the edge of the pew and struggled to sit.

  The stranger grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me to my feet. My hands clamped around his fist instinctively. I found myself staring into his eyes.

  “Where is it?” It was a command more than a question. I stared at him, uncomprehending. His expression hardened, and he pushed me back with the slightest effort. I sprawled onto the pew. Before I could regain my balance, he leveled the sword at my throat, resting the icy blade against my neck. “It will go easier for you, if you cooperate.”

  “I don’t know what you want,” I said, my voice hoarse.

  “The vessel.”

  My mouth opened, but the protest died on my lips. Behind the stranger, I could see Seth edging along the dark wall of the sanctuary, holding something in his hands. A surge of hope filled my chest.

  The stranger, seeing something in my expression, turned.

  Before he had time to spot Seth in the shadows, I kicked the sword out of his hands. It skittered across the floor. The stranger turned toward it and I lunged to my feet, meaning to dart the other way. But he was faster than I had anticipated. His hand closed around my throat, hauling me up until we were face to face for the second time.

  “I will not be baited,” he said. I clawed at his hand, but it was like a vise around my throat. If he put any more pressure into his grip, I wouldn’t be able to speak.

  “The salt,” I screamed at Seth. “Scatter the salt on the seal! You can stop the ritual!”

  The stranger froze, giving me a sharp look. Something was wrong.

  He turned back towards the seal, giving me a clear view into the heart of the sanctuary. We saw Seth at the same instant, returning the vessel to the center of the seal. The stranger released me, lunging for Seth.

  “Spill it,” I screamed. “Seth, you have to spill the salt!”

  Seth looked up, confusion clouding his eyes. He stepped back as the stranger barreled toward him.

  Moonlight speared into the sanctuary, flooding the seal with silvery light. The stranger skidded to a stop just beyond the seal, transfixed.

  Smoky black ribbons rose up around the vessel in twining spirals of shadow.

  “No,” I whispered. “No.”

  The ritual was complete.

  The stranger retreated across the stone floor to take up his sword. I limped toward Seth, fighting the growing pain in my leg. “We have to get out of here,” I whispered.

  Instead of replying, Seth tensed. “Look,” he said. I turned, and my breath caught in my throat.

  A slender form stepped through the rift between our worlds, gaining substance in half a heartbeat. Sh
e had long, pale blond hair that fell in undulating waves down her back. She was small, shorter than Seth by a good six inches. Her limbs were delicate, perfectly proportioned. She was achingly beautiful. Of course, I thought numbly. She’s Lilitu. She held a weapon loosely in one hand. It was shorter than the stranger’s sword, but too long to be considered a knife. The curved blade was tarnished with age, but the edge tapered to a cruel point. Strange glyphs ran the length of the blade. The handle, what I could see of it, was a dark and twisted metal.

  The Lilitu looked up. Her dark eyes landed on Seth and she moved. The weapon spun through the air directly toward him. I acted without thought, diving into Seth. We hit the floor as the weapon skittered to the ground behind us. Seth let out a surprised gasp. I rolled off of him, back up onto my feet.

  “Stay back,” I hissed. I couldn’t spare the time to check if he was injured. I spun back around, expecting the Lilitu’s attack any moment.

  Instead, she was eyeing the stranger.

  He stood at the edge of the seal, as if unwilling or unable to step onto the stone. He lifted his sword, ready to strike.

  “Go back, Lilitu,” he said, his voice ringing with authority. “Tell your sisteren that this land is not for-” The stranger’s words choked off with a wet cough.

  I fell back against one of the sanctuary’s columns, struggling to make sense of what I was seeing.

  The blade of the Lilitu’s weapon speared out from the front of the stranger’s chest. His sword fell from his hands to clatter against the stone floor. A second later, he followed, dropping to his knees. He raised a hand to his chest. It hovered helplessly near the base of the blade. An expression of genuine shock crossed his face. I stared. His blood was strangely light, almost pearlescent. Not human. Not Lilitu.

  Seth stepped away from the stranger, his face grimly satisfied. He dragged his hand across his jeans, wiping off a spattering of the pearlescent blood. Almost as an afterthought, he kicked the stranger’s sword out of his reach. The stranger watched, numb, as his sword skittered to the far edge of the room.