Creche (Book II of Paranormal Fallen Angels/Vampires Series)

by Karin Cox

  “Abel, the shepherd and herdsman, set out his sacrifice, too: succulent, tender lamb rubbed with mint and herbs and cooked slowly over a fire; sweet fermented mare’s milk; and pressed cheeses kept cold in a running stream.”

  It was what she had meant, I saw. We were all shepherds. I nodded my understanding.

  “Seeing the cornucopia he had spread before the Maker, in comparison to Abel’s meat and milk and cheese,” she continued, “Cain was sure the Maker would dine from his bounty first. But the Maker had seen the gentleness with which Abel tended his sheep, the care he afforded them, the respect he held them in—even nesting in the stony hills, a lamb under each wing, to stave off the bitter winter. He had seen and felt the great pain in Abel’s heart when the time had come to slaughter them. He had seen how carefully, how respectfully, Abel had butchered the meat, and the thanks he held in his heart for the animals the Maker had given unto his care.

  “‘I know what sacrifice it is to kill something you love so that others may live,’ the Maker said to Abel. ‘For I loved Sammael just as dearly as I love you.’”

  I felt my heart constrict. Hadn’t I too sacrificed Joslyn for Sabine? Would I sacrifice Sabine, too, for Skylar?

  She hesitated, perhaps noticing the fear in me, and then she bent her head back to the book.

  “At the Maker’s words, Cain felt envy flood his heart and doubt and jealousy drown his soul. If it was such a great sacrifice to kill something one loved, Cain imagined he could make that sacrifice too.

  “The next day, while others lay sleeping off the feast and the wine, Cain called for Abel to accompany him into the fields.

  “There, he attacked him. Abel fought back, even biting his brother’s neck in an effort to throw him off, but he could not. As Abel’s death blood spilled over the land, it became barren and dry. Corn withered on its stalks and its kernels became a rain of hard pebbles. Vines curled and clawed the dry ground. Flowers snapped shut, trapping dying bees inside, and the nuts and the vegetables and the fields of rye rotted before Cain to leave a ribbon of desert stretched out before him.

  “‘Father, forgive me,’ Cain cried out in terror.

  “But the Maker said unto to him: ‘Cain, my son, envy and pride have blighted your heart, just as drought and destruction have stolen your farmlands and crops. You killed your brother not so that others may have peace or justice or food or security but so that you might feel loved, when all along I have loved you as I loved him, and all along you have had Adam’s love at your twin’s expense. That is no sacrifice. It is murder. All who walk on Earth or dwell with me in Heaven shall know this foul deed by the banishment I set upon you and by the mark of shame your brother’s teeth have scored into your neck. Evermore you shall suffer a crippling loneliness and hunger. Not crops, nor bread, nor meat, nor milk, nor wine, nor oil, nor seeds, nor cheese shall assuage your appetite.’

  “‘Then I shall die most cruelly, Father,’ Cain lamented.

  “The Maker replied, ‘You shall not die of starvation, for I shall not kill you, Cain, but let you live forever, wandering the Earth with no people and no nourishment so that you might remember that which your brother gave you: the taste of his sacrifice, and the knowledge that in your envy you spilled the blood of your twin. None shall give you food, for when they see the fiery gleam of your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the teeth sharp as those of the three-headed hound that guards the gates of Hell, and the bite wounds on your neck, they shall know that you are He, Cain, who bears the mark and the curse of the Maker and who has escaped hellfire only by the benevolence of a Father’s love.’”

  Skylar wet her lips.

  The words, though archaic, were lilting, and I shuffled my wings against the rock to stay awake.

  “And so Cain was banished. For his sons, Adam wept, and Eve repented again of her sins and the misery her betrayal had visited upon her family.

  “Many years passed, and then many decades, and even centuries, until Adam and Eve and all of Cain’s brothers and sisters were dust and bones. But still Cain trudged the Earth, always starving, always hungering and never satisfied.

  “Deep in the molten fires of Hell, Lucifer began to grow strong. Seeing Cain cast out, like he himself had been, Lucifer pitied him.

  “In his lair within the dank, hot earth, Lucifer’s angelic radiance had attracted the lesser creatures, whose cold blood was warmed by his brilliance. The bug and beetle, the bat and the belly-crawling snake had become Lucifer’s companions. Still desiring his revenge on mankind, Lucifer sent the bat out into the world to seek out Cain.

  “‘Cain,’ said the bat, its beady eyes aglow with hellfire, ‘you wander the world in hunger and yet the very thing that might sustain you is before your eyes, for the blood that your brother Abel spilled on the Earth is your damnation and your salvation.’

  “Cain did not glean the bat’s meaning until the vampire bat continued. ‘I drink from the blood of the sheep and the horse, from the camel and the cow, and so do I survive to fly toward the heavens that Lucifer is denied. But I am just a small creature. The blood of a bigger being might sustain you, for the Maker never said that mortal blood was forbidden to you.’

  “Cain, racked with starvation, said, ‘No man would give me freely of his blood, Bat, nor any women either, for all will see that I have the mark of Cain and will shrink away from me for fear of reproach.’

  “‘Then let me drink from you, Cain, that I might become you, and you me. Together we shall bear down upon them as bats and drink from them.’

  “And so Cain offered his neck to the bat, which drank of his tainted blood and grew greedy, craving the blood of humans. As the bat’s gluttony flowed into Cain’s blood, so Cain, too, became a bat with reddish eyes and elongated teeth and flew out into the night to seek his prey.”

  Skylar gazed up at me to ensure I was still listening, and then went on. “His first victim was a man sleeping in a field. Cain’s hunger was so great, so consuming, that he drained the man in seconds and filled his little bat body to bursting, but still he needed more. With Bat as his companion, he sought more and more and eventually resumed his manly form, his teeth dripping and his veins filled with the blood of innocents, and following this frenzy, his great hunger was temporarily quenched.

  “‘Bat, you were right,’ he said, ‘I am satisfied. How should I repay you for this kindness?’

  “‘First, you must let me become one with your body when you feed, for I am too small to feed upon humans myself, yet their blood is so rich and so warming.’

  “And Cain agreed.

  “‘Second, you must pledge your allegiance to my master, Lucifer, who can offer you the love your Maker has denied you. You must be the Dark Lord’s loyal servant for evermore, for it is truly he who has bade me to teach you how to slake your thirst and satiate your hunger.’

  “‘Of course,’ Cain agreed, and he bowed down to Bat and let him once more enter his body, and together the two flew to Hell to treat with Satan.”

  I reached over and stayed her hand where it moved down the row of text. “It is as I thought: Vampires are the devil’s brethren.”

  She nodded, then cleared her throat and read on. “The Maker was furious at Lucifer’s intervention and at Cain’s feasting on the blood of other mortals. Wrath consumed the Maker. His mercy for Lucifer and for Cain had only created another evil in the world, and he wished he had smote them both. However, the Maker had given his word that He would not kill Cain, and so He kept his word.

  “Knowing he could not let Lucifer’s ravenous new monster destroy Man, the Maker raised Abel—the wronged, winged brother—from his century’s old grave. In repayment for Eve’s sin, mankind’s soul did not ascend to the heavens but at their death became one with the earth and the animals. After Lucifer and his Fallen Angels left heaven, none—not Man nor Angel—breached the divide between the earthly and ethereal realms. So the Maker took up the bones of Abel from the dust, and he blew his spirit into them until Abel was whole a
nd radiant and alive once more.

  “‘Your brother stole your blood, just as he now thieves the blood of others,’ the Maker told Abel, whose wings shone white and whose beauty was enhanced by the glow of his resurrection.

  “‘In return, you shall take his blood as vengeance and in the name of justice. I task you with pursuing him and with destroying him. For as I vowed that I would not kill Cain, so shall you vow that you will. As Cain is immortal, so shall you be immortal. And in the same way that he drinks from your fellow man will you drink from him and destroy him. I will call you Cruxim, for the Crux I have given you to bear, and I shall reward you with the gift of giving life. However, so that never again might brother be pitted against brother so cruelly, your kind shall not know siblings. When you bear a son, your term of service shall end, your immortality shall cease, and you shall be afforded eternal respect in my house and in the house of your angelic forebears. When a female among you bears a daughter, she shall sacrifice her life for the life of her daughter. When I call you, Cruxim, you shall hear me and obey me.’

  “Abel wept then, for he knew he had been granted a divine honor but also that justice was a harsh master.

  “‘Where, Maker, shall I find the courage to kill my brother Cain, for I loved him and love him still because we shared the same womb?’ Abel cried.

  “‘I shall give you the courage and the strength and the will,’ the Maker told him. ‘Vengeance, duty, and desire shall be your weapons.’

  “‘And how shall I make these sons and daughters?’ Abel cried. ‘For I am alone and the only creature of my kind.’

  “‘No, Abel,’ the Maker answered. ‘You are never alone. Just as I made your mother, Eve, for Adam, I shall make for you a partner. Like you, she shall bear wings and like you, she shall be faithful, and she will ease your troubles and bear your children as well as your burden. And as Cain has had bats to assist him, so shall I create loyal allies to fight beside you.’” She stopped reading and looked at me again. “And so it was that the first Cruxim were made.”

  I was silent. From far below came the sullen drip of water, somewhere deep in the stone, and the slow breath of the ocean.

  “Cruxim are nothing but his blade of hatred. Made only to avenge Lucifer and Cain,” I said. In that moment, I hated what I was more than ever. Was it any wonder I was so torn, my body doing battle with my mind? Cruxim and Vampire. Mother and Father tearing each other to shreds inside me.

  My mouth was dry with the thought I might never be free of this thirst for death. This confusion. This loneliness. Or perhaps I would—when I had a son, who would also be filled with the wrath of the Maker and an insatiable lust for revenge.

  “And to protect humans,” Skylar added. “Do not forget that we are also His first object of redemption.”

  “I would rather the dust,” I answered her. “There is nothing for me. Now even vengeance will be bitter.” I sat gazing out at the horizon. “There is no redemption. There is nothing!” I felt the tendons in my wings tug tightly. “What else can there be?”

  I dropped off the ledge and scooped up Sabine’s stone in my arms.

  “There is love,” Skylar cried after me as I let the weight of the stone plunge me down and away.

  “Not like this,” I replied. “Not built on lies and secrets, riddles and deceit.”

  “Amedeo,” Skylar called plaintively, as if an arrow had struck her side. She swooped after me, pushing the Cruximus into the crook formed where my arms clutched the anchorstone to my chest.

  “Take it. I took it for you. If you must leave me, and if you cannot save Sabine, at least save yourself. Solve the Sphinx’s riddle. Lift the Crux. Free yourself from this curse of vengeance.”

  The Cruximus, the repository of so much pain over so long. I felt an urge to let the book plummet down, down, down, into the sea, until I remembered what else was down there: Sabine, encased in her heavy shell of gold. Perhaps if the riddle could free her, it would be enough. Perhaps that alone might absolve me. Even if she hated me, I would have freed her from the loneliness I was destined to suffer.

  My eyes met Skylar’s one last time. Had I not been hugging the stone and the book so firmly to my chest, I might have taken her in my arms and kissed away her tears and cried for the secrets that had come between us. Instead, I stared at her beautiful face and my lips moved to speak but no words would come.

  Was it possible to outfly my own demons? I wondered as I winged away to the west.

  I soared on and on, not knowing where to go, dragging Sabine’s stone with me until I came to a place my heart knew. From above, it was little changed. A lonely brook, a ruined castle, and the Convent dels Àngels high on the hillside, brooding over orange orchards and rows of rosemary.

  I descended and slumped down, panting, among the debris of the castle I had visited often with Joslyn. My thoughts were heavier than the stone I cradled in my arms, and my tears pooled in Sabine’s partly open marble mouth.

  When I gazed at the stone now, I wondered if I had truly seen Sabine at all. She seemed so foreign to me, a noble animal unburdened by the Maker’s curses. What would she think of me, revealed for what I was? The sun turned the tears upon my face to salt. Much as I kissed the marble lips, Sabine did not awaken within her stone to hear my sorrows.

  It was not until evening threatened to fall, and I kissed the lips once more before setting my dark head against the pale curls of marble, that Sabine awoke. A growl issued from the solid lips. For a moment, I thought the warmth on my face was the tip of her protruding tongue; then I saw that it was a tear, milky in color, slowly setting to stone as it rolled from one marble eye.

  Around the lump in my throat, I whispered her name.

  A blink of recognition answered.

  Finally, she said, “Even sleeping, I hear, Ame.” Her words sounded hollow, as if they bounced around inside the rock, rather than being tethered there.

  I jolted up, head to my hands. “You have heard what I am. What must I do, Sabine?”

  “What you have always done.”

  It was like her, to be so sensible. My response was to pace before her and answer with a disbelieving laugh. “What I have always done is kill them, but I did so believing it was good and holy and true.” I looked out over the field to the brook. “All along that has been a lie. I am as unholy, as damned, as the rest of them.”

  “You are the same Amedeo you were yesterday. Nothing has changed but for knowing.”

  A tremor in her voice told me it was lip service. I knew how much she hated them.

  My pacing increased in urgency. “How can you say that? Everything has changed. I have changed.”

  “We all change.” Stone eyes followed my predictable movements. “Look at me.” Her eyes swiveled to the place where her hindquarters should have been.

  “And that, too, is my fault,” I raged. “You and Joslyn and Danette and Evedra, and now Skylar—how many other lives have I destroyed?” My eyes alighted on the crumbling wall before us, remembering it taller. Beltran had clung to it, laughing savagely as Joslyn, naked and bleeding and smelling of sex and rosemary and regrets, cried on the stone floor.

  “What is this place?” Sabine snapped suddenly, and her stone eyelids crinkled with distrust. “You have been here before.”

  I dropped to my knees, replaying over in my head the last night of Joslyn’s humanity. “Yes,” I admitted. “It is where I first met Beltran.”

  Sabine’s emerald eyes shifted in their stony sockets to take in the wall and the floor and the chasm my last visit here had rent in my heart.

  “It is where you lost her.” Her carved lips did not move over the words but her eyes flashed.

  Yes. But she could have been mine all along, I despaired. I was a Vampire, just as she was. I need never have lost her.

  In a whisper, Sabine said gruffly, “I wish you had left me at Silvenhall, or with your other love on that rocky shelf. Even with the sea I am now so used to would have hurt less. Anywhere but here
. There are too many ghosts.”

  She hates me. I tortured myself. She knows I loved Joslyn. She knows about Skylar and the betrothal. Everything. She knows what I am, and she hates me for it, just as I hate myself. I am a monster—just like them.

  “Never like them,” Sabine growled.

  I looked away, embarrassed. Each thought of Joslyn and of Skylar must have felt like a knife to her heart.

  “I hear everything when I am one with the stone,” she elaborated. “But a woman hears a man’s words most clearly when he is saying goodbye.” Another milky tear spilled from her eye.

  I bowed my head and stopped my pacing to go to her, stroking the marble back. “I am sorry ... for all the hurts I gave you.”

  “It hurts more that Skylar hears your thoughts and forgives them, when I cannot.” A great sorrow seemed to seep from the stone out into the coming twilight. “You can fly from her, Ame, but still she understands you. And your heart hurries to hers as surely as it slinks away from mine.”

  I swallowed. “No one understands me, least of all myself. And I have never slunk away from you. I am here for you. I am here to awaken you.”

  “You are wrong,” Sabine answered coolly. “You are here to awaken yourself.” Her tone gentled. “Do not punish yourself. Skylar will forgive you ... when I cannot. She knows you loved Joslyn, and she loves you anyway ... when I cannot. She knows what you are, Amedeo, and she loves you anyway ... when I cannot. ”

  “Sabine, do not say that.” I snatched up the Cruximus from where it had fallen on the stone floor. I shook it at her. “I have the Sphinx’s riddle. I will free you.”

  Her growl was laced with pain. Beyond the ruins, the setting sun turned the Valencias to forbidden golden fruit. “It is better that you leave. Leave me here, in this place where you loved Joslyn more fully than you ever loved anyone until Skylar,” she growled.

  Her stone eyelids closed, and when she opened them again her growl had dropped to a pained whisper. “Do not make it easy, Ame. Leave me my hurt so that I might remember you have always been something between an angel and a devil.”