Demon's Daughter: A Cursed Book

by Amy Braun

  His arms were crossed over his chest, and he looked every inch the tough, no B.S. bodyguard he was supposed to be.

  I blinked at him, then looked at Sephiel, Warrick and Max. “Can one of you explain that in English?”

  Rorikel scoffed at me. I expected nothing less.

  “It’s an out of body experience,” Max clarified. “Basically you share your spirit with something of your choice. You have to be careful and totally prepared when you do it, otherwise you can get possessed by something you don’t intend to.”

  “Like me,” I muttered.

  “Yes,” Sephiel confirmed. “But your soul was still inside you, so Ohzlan’s abilities were limited by your human body. When a person’s spirit opens completely to a demon, they are far more formidable. That is why most dark magic practitioners often use blood to entice and invoke the demon they are calling. The more blood that is used, the more powerful the spell, and therefore the possession.”

  I thought back to the night at Owl Creek six years ago. “Is that how you create portals? Blood magic?”

  Sephiel nodded. “Only a human sharing a demon’s soul can open a portal. The potency and length of time the portal can remain open depends on the strength of the demon. Possessors can only have a portal open for a minute or two, but a Higher demon could leave a portal open for hours.”

  I cringed internally. It had definitely been a Higher demon that night at the camp. “How often do people get possessed by Higher demons?”

  “Rarely,” said Rorikel. “They are far too difficult to control. They often ask permission of their vessel before entering it, making them easier to manipulate.”

  “So, just to be clear on how it works for people who decide to go insane,” Max said, “you have to bleed yourself or someone else to the point of death, make your spirit an open door, then say yes when the big bad demon comes asking for a body-buddy.”

  “That is the idea, essentially,” Sephiel said grimly.

  Max sighed. “Why are people so crazy?” he muttered.

  “What would happen if someone said yes to the archangels?”

  We all turned our heads to look at Dro. She saw my expression and backtracked almost immediately. “I’m not saying yes, but I want to know what would happen if I did.”

  “The archangel chosen for you would need to be summoned in a ritual,” said Rorikel, all too happy to answer. “Your soul would be taken out and replaced with the spirit of the archangel to fulfill its purpose.”

  Dro winced, and Sephiel stepped in.

  “It is… uncomfortable… for humans,” he said. “But there is not as much pain as you think.”

  “What happens to my soul?” she asked. “Would I get it back?”

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second, just enough for me to see. “After the demons have been defeated, your soul would be transported to Heaven, where it would belong with honor.”

  “But her body would die,” I said, getting his attention. “Her soul wouldn’t be in her human body ever again.”

  Sephiel tried to answer, but Rorikel chose to get into the conversation instead.

  “You do not know what a privilege it is to be the vessel of an archangel,” he defended fiercely. “If she is as powerful as Ohzlan claimed, she might have been chosen by one of the most powerful archangels. Perhaps Raphael or Gabriel, or even Michael himself. With their combined strength, the demon hordes would cower in fear, and victory would be assured.”

  “What if it wasn’t?” I argued.

  He looked like he wanted to hit me. Again. “You dare question the fortitude of the Heavenly Host?”

  “I question that everything that’s supposed to go according to plan, yeah. What if she was hurt, or injured?”

  I didn’t add in the obvious ‘what if she was killed,’ because Rorikel did it for me.

  “If the vessel is destroyed, the archangel could vacate and choose another Nephilim to inhabit to complete his mission. Time would tell when such an act would occur, as Andromeda is currently the only Nephilim we know of, but there are almost no demons that can stop an archangel. They are much too powerful.”

  I was ready to fight him some more, but Dro asked another question.

  “What would happen if the demons caught me?”

  Sephiel looked at her with deadly seriousness. “That will not happen, Andromeda.”

  “But Constance is right,” she countered. “Plans can be screwed up. If Max knew something would go wrong, he would have said something by now,” she said, looking at her almost-boyfriend.

  Max nodded a little stiffly. “I’m still only getting flashes,” he said. “Nothing really concrete. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  Dro looked at the angels again. “I can’t sense anything but the power coming from that place in Athens. It’s spreading like a virus. I want to know,” she said, sounding braver than she looked. “I need to know.”

  Sephiel read her eyes carefully. I wondered why he took such an interest with my sister. It wasn’t love. I didn’t know if angels were capable of loving anyone who wasn’t God. Sephiel looked at Dro with fondness, like she reminded him of someone he cared about.

  “The demon’s ritual requires blood,” Sephiel explained. “A copious amount of it. As the bleeding begins, a Higher demon must be summoned to complete the final piece of the spell and open the Gates.”

  “What’s the final piece?” Dro asked when he didn’t keep going.

  His bright blue eyes met her own, and he looked oddly uncomfortable.

  “Hell contains the dead souls of sinners, and sin began with Eve when Lucifer tempted her with the apple in the Garden of Eden. Eve was created from Adam’s rib as per God’s design to open the gates of human life, so must another rib be given to open the Gates of Hell.”

  Dro paled slightly, and I felt a surge of disgust and anger build up.

  “That’s pretty Old Testament,” Max said uncomfortably.

  Sephiel looked at him. “We have been alive for millennia. The Old Testament is familiar to us. It is how things used to be, and all the most dynamic summonings and spells are used with the similar mindset.”

  “Taking out an innocent person’s rib is a touch on the dramatic side,” Warrick griped, “even for the Old Testament.”

  “It kept the human populace obedient,” Rorikel replied sharply. “These new generations of humans are even more disgraceful than the last. They blatantly sin, and find no shame in it.”

  “Not everyone can be a perfect little angel,” I threw at him.

  He glared daggers at me. “Certainly not you.”

  “Don’t pretend you know anything about my big sister,” Dro snapped.

  I could only imagine the things going through her head, all the memories of the horrific things I had done, but she was still ready to drop all her problems to defend my honor, just as I would have done for her. “You have no idea what we’ve been through.”

  Rorikel stared at her. “God allows you free will,” he said, toning back his anger only because she was important, “but humans abuse it for their own selfishness. All of you are more likely to choose sin than not.” He looked at me. “And most of you have.”

  “Then why bother protecting us all?” Warrick disputed, to my surprise. “If you find us so repulsive, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I am here to protect the Nephilim until her archangel comes for her. Nothing more. Heaven does not accept sinners, and I see none of you attempting to repent.”

  “You’re probably not going to either,” I told him, seething with anger. “I did what I had to do to keep Dro alive. If you think I’m going to regret killing murderers, rapists, and monsters, you clearly haven’t faced off with any of them. You’re just an angelic asshole who’s never tried to save someone’s life and never given them the chance to change their mistakes.”

  Rorikel straightened his back, and I was suddenly very aware of how tall he was, that he was a warrior with thousands of years of experi
ence on me, and had powers I would never have because I was an easily damageable human.

  “Oh, but I have,” he said in a frozen voice, “and I have discovered that humans do not change. They will never place their beliefs above their own personal goals. There is no justification for murder, which is why you will never see Paradise, Constance Ramirez.”

  He turned and stormed out of the motel room, slamming the door so hard it rattled in the frame. I was upset I hadn’t gotten the last word, but I didn’t want anyone to know Rorikel’s words were bothering me. I’d always known I would never go to Heaven, but I wished there had been some kind of hope for me. That maybe I could be forgiven just enough to go to the same afterlife as my sister. The idea of spending such a short human lifetime with Dro only to lose her when I died didn’t sit well with me. I know that was how life went, but as a kid I thought we would stay with each other forever. I held onto that hope as we got older. It had motivated me, reminded me I wasn’t going to lose her.

  Now I wasn’t so sure.

  “What the hell crawled up his ass, laid eggs and died?” Max grumbled, reaching under the table to take Dro’s hand.

  Sephiel sighed. “Rorikel is what you might call a close-minded individual. He does not like change, and does not appreciate those who scorn or dishonor the goodness of God.”

  Yup. That sounds like Rorikel. “What about you? Do you think all us sinners should burn in Hell and have demons stab us in the ass with pitchforks all the time?”

  Sephiel smiled, but there wasn’t a lot of amusement in it. “I think humans have stumbled, and not all of them have regretted the mistakes they have made. Not all of them deserve to be saved. But perhaps that is what makes them so different from us. They have the chance to learn from their misfortunes and mishaps. Angels do not. We must always be the image of grace and strength. We cannot fail.”

  Sephiel’s bright blue eyes had gone dark with almost human emotions. I thought I spotted guilt, sorrow, and a bit of anger.

  “I take it not many angels feel the way you do,” guessed Warrick.

  “Very few,” he replied. “Certainly none of the archangels.” Sephiel looked at Dro with that semi-creepy stare of longing again. “Your mother and I were one of the few who respect humans.”

  “You know my birth mother?” Dro asked, perking up in her chair as her face brightened with curiosity and surprise.

  Sephiel nodded. “Her name was Everiel.”

  Dro quickly picked up on the ‘was,’ but couldn’t hold back her interest. “What was she like?”

  “She was a gentle and strong, kind and just. She was not afraid to speak her mind and stand up for others.” Deep sorrow creased his eyes. “She looked like you. She was beautiful.”

  “What happened to her?” Dro asked quietly.

  Sephiel looked away. “She died.”

  The angel’s silence made it very clear that he wasn’t going into any more details. Knowing more about Dro’s angel mother seemed important, but I didn’t want to piss off the only angel who seemed to like us.

  “What about my father?” Dro asked. “Did you know him? Is he still alive?”

  Sephiel’s eyes flicked up, and I didn’t miss the quick spark of rage in them.

  “I do not know the answer to either of those questions.”

  He was obviously lying. I was pretty adept at reading lies. He knew Dro’s father, and he hated him.

  Before I could press the issue any further, Sephiel turned for the door. “I must seek out Rorikel and bring him back. I do not wish for him to remain angry with any of you.”

  Sephiel closed his eyes and winked out, leaving an empty space where he’d once stood. I was getting really sick of that. I looked at Dro, who was still holding Max’s hand and looking troubled.

  “You okay, Dro?” I asked her.

  She looked at me nervously. “I thought angels would be easier to deal with than demons.”

  “You’re assuming this was supposed to be easy to begin with,” I said, leaning back and rubbing my eyes with the heel of my palm.

  “Do you think we can trust either of them?” Warrick asked.

  He was still near the dresser, now with his arms folded over his chest, and his green eyes piercing into my dark brown ones.

  “Sephiel, maybe,” I said. “The only thing we can trust Rorikel not to do is hurt Dro. He doesn’t give a fuck about the rest of us.”

  I turned my eyes from him to Max. “Sense anything we should be looking out for?”

  Max hesitated, then closed his eyes and focused. He breathed out and I could see his eyes moving behind his eyelids as he stretched his ability. After a minute or two, he opened his eyes and looked at us.

  “Not really,” he said. “Just a lot of red. Can’t even tell if it’s fire or blood or both.”

  “Terrific,” I muttered.

  Max frowned sharply. “It’s not easy trying to look into the future and knowing you might hate what you see. You can cut me some slack, Constance.”

  He was right. He’d been doing everything he could, giving us all the knowledge he could and supporting my little sister at every turn. He didn’t deserve to be an outlet for my frustration.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess I can.”

  It wasn’t an apology, but it was close enough. Max saw that, and relaxed. He might have been the only one who could.

  ***

  We were leaving for Athens first thing in the morning, so we decided to get as much sleep as possible. The angels were out patrolling the motel, since Rorikel was still grumpy and didn’t want to be near a naughty little sinner like me.

  I tried to sleep, holding my hatchet close to my chest and running my thumb up its neck. My father had given me this hatchet just before he died. He’d known I would fight to keep my mother and sister safe, but he’d intended to get the hatchet back. He didn’t know he would be among the first to die that night.

  I carried the hatchet as a reminder of those I had lost, and to remember that it had been one of the weapons to keep me alive when I had nothing else. I felt stronger when I held it, even though the blade was chipped and the leather was starting to crack on the handle. That was another thing I had in common with the weapon– both of us were scarred and tattered on the outside, but still whole and utterly ruthless.

  On the bed across from me, Dro was tossing and turning. She wasn’t talking in her sleep so I didn’t have to be worried about nightmares yet, but I didn’t approve of whatever was keeping her awake.

  “You can’t sleep either?” I asked once she settled again.

  Dro rolled over, lying on her side and looking at me. Her long white hair practically glowed in the darkness of the motel room.

  “What gave it away?” she said wryly.

  I shrugged, grinning a little. “Big sister intuition.”

  “Uh huh.” Dro tried to smile, but couldn’t do it.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  She sighed, toying with the ends of her hair. “Everything,” she confessed. “What Rorikel said about the archangels and sinners, the rituals, Sephiel talking about my mother. It’s a lot to process.”

  “You’re right. It is.”

  Dro started twirling her hair around her finger slowly. “I wish she were still alive,” she said softly. “Then I could talk to her about what I am. She could help me understand it all.”

  “Sephiel seemed really care about her,” I said. “He’ll help us.”

  “But you don’t trust him.”

  “Just because I don’t trust him doesn’t mean he won’t help you. You’re the one this is all about.”

  Dro dropped her hair. “Only because I’m a vessel. I wouldn’t matter to anyone if I was just a normal human.”

  I frowned. “You would matter to me.”

  Her eyes met mine. “That isn’t what I mean, Con. I know you love me, and no matter what I’ll still love you, too. But think about all the problems that have been caused because of what I am. If it weren’t for me,
Mom and Dad would still be alive.”

  A cold ache chilled my heart. “Don’t say that, Dro. What happened to Mom and Dad wasn’t your fault.”

  My sister’s icy blue eyes looked heavy. “You know that it was.”

  “No. It was the demons. Not you. You–”

  “The only reason the demons were there was because of me. If I hadn’t been, we’d all still be a family.”

  “What about Max?” I asked, grasping at straws. “You never would have met him if it hadn’t been for everything that happened.”

  Dro shifted, resting her head on the pillow and wrapping her arms around her middle. “No. But Manny might still be alive.”

  This wasn’t going to work. Even if I told her that Manny’s death was on my conscience, I couldn’t deny that Dro’s family history had brought some horrible circumstances on us. I would never convince her all the darkness and pain we carried wasn’t her fault. I would never put that guilt on her. She did it to herself.

  “That’s why I asked Rorikel about what would happen if I said yes,” Dro said.

  I looked at her again. “You’re thinking about giving in?”

  “If it means stopping the demons, what choice do I have?”

  “We stop the demons by figuring out what the witch is doing, then throw a wrench in it,” I told her. “We don’t do something that will get you possessed and killed by an angel.”

  “Con, we have no clue who the witch is. Who knows what will be waiting for us in Athens. Saying yes might be the only thing that keeps us alive. At least if the archangel takes me, we’ll have a chance to stop them.”

  I pushed myself up into a sitting position. “No. I am not going to let you do that.”

  She sat up with me. “It isn’t your choice, Constance. It’s mine. You have to consider the possibility that we won’t be able to handle whatever we face there.”

  “I’m not going to let an angel take you over and kill you just so it can have your body,” I exclaimed angrily.

  I turned my eyes away from her, remembering the horrible, violating pain of my own possession. How completely I had been dominated, stripped of my safety, and trapped as the demon said and did things I couldn’t stop.