I risk shifting around in the oil spill under my feet. If Xtabay can stop time—or, according to my dad, at least slow it all the way down—what else is she capable of?
The goddess gives me a sympathetic look. “You are afraid. I did not want that.”
I look her over, feeling more than cowed by her queenly presence. She’s much taller than I am, and despite the modern clothes, she still looks like someone out of mythology. Her eyes are pitch black—no whites or irises at all.
“You’re…a bit intimidating.”
She smiles, then, a little sadly. Raising a hand, she passes it over her face. When she drops her hand, I see her eyes are brown and warm and human. “Does this please you?”
I look around the hangar for an escape route, but then realize the futility of it. If I run, she’ll probably just freeze me and drag me back. So I turn to face her instead. “Why…do you care?”
Her fingers twitch like she’s looking to touch something but is hesitant. Taking a step toward me, she reaches out with one hand.
I stiffen but I’m immensely proud of myself for not screaming or bolting when she touches my hair. I feel a tingle in my scalp, but that’s all. I’ve never been touched by a goddess before.
“I do not want to frighten you, little flower. I do not want you to turn away from me.”
I swallow hard and look into those quasi-human eyes of hers. “Why?” I ask because I can’t imagine one single reason why she should care what I think of her.
She tenderly pushes a strand of hair off my face and then brushes her knuckles against my cheek. The contact sends a warm pulse of pleasure through my skin. I don’t expect that. “Is it not obvious? I love you.”
Her words confuse me. I’ve known plenty of people who “loved me,” but that’s not what they mean by those words. They just want me. Or they want to conquer me. Put me in my place. I don’t even think my parents “loved me” in the traditional sense. They were simply too afraid.
Xtabay looks sad as if she instinctively understands these things and slides her large, warm hands down the sides of my bare neck, resting them on my shoulders. “You are strong. And the world does not suffer strong women. This world breaks such women.” Her dark eyes blink once. “The witches.”
I can feel the sheer, otherworldly strength in her hands. I’m acutely aware that she can break my body with no effort at all. But, strangely, I am not afraid. I am suddenly, embarrassingly, wet down below. My heart is racing and the tips of my breasts hurt as if she is passing an electrical charge through my body. “Yes,” I agree, because I can’t argue with her logic.
She nods almost imperceptibly, as if she knows what she’s doing to me. Normally, I would hate that she knows how she is affecting me. But I feel strangely at ease.
“But…you…” I stop myself, afraid I’ll sound stupid in front of her. “How can you even know all that? I mean…you don’t come from here. Right? You come from…somewhere else.”
“I was sent to the far realms.” She moves her hands to my shoulders and draws me closer to her. Her face—and, more specifically, her eyes—seem to fill my whole field of vision. Her scent, like soft white lilies after a summer rain, makes my head swim and I suddenly feel the whole world tilt around me as if I’ve taken a hit of some powerful acid. “But I was queen here once. And then he came.”
“Who?”
“Ha-Shem.” The word echoes around the ruins of the mill, making some birds in the rafters take flight. “And with his military of light creatures, he banished me. And the rest.” Her eyes blink black for one second before returning to their brown color. I can feel a vibration from her. I think it’s her righteous anger. “But then his power lessened. His believers returned to the old ways. And I was able to claw my way back through the cracks.”
Her voice echoes strangely in my head. I feel so dizzy.
“You are the child of his general. You are of the line of Ha-Shaitan.”
“I…”
“Left Hand of the Coming Dark.”
God, I feel so sick. Thankfully, she is there to catch me when I tip forward.
No! Too late, I realize she’s casting some spell. I wanted to tell her to stop, to let me go, but I can’t feel my body at all. She lifts me into her arms so easily, you would think I was only a baby. “Let…go…” I say, slurring my words as if I’m drunk. My head, so very heavy suddenly, bobs downward and my chin rests on my chest as she holds me against her.
“Sleep, little flower. We have much to do.”
Darkness—followed by a rush of cold wind. I don’t need to see to know we are flying. Time has no meaning suddenly. She may have carried me for seconds or years. It doesn’t seem to matter and there is no way for me to measure what is happening. But, eventually, the darkness gives out to a pinprick of light that slowly grows in brilliance.
I wake up still in her arms. She is standing in a cold, concrete room of some kind. Some chamber deep in the embattled remains of the old steel mill, I assume. But this one has no windows. Just a row of lanterns similar to what Sister Marie was wielding hanging from hooks in the walls. It produces the only illumination.
The room is empty, save for a creaky-looking cot in one corner, a table near it with some basic human toiletries on it, and that huge, frightening iron sarcophagus on the floor, taking up most of the space in the small room. I shudder at the sight of it, but Xtabay makes shushing noises and runs a hand over my face as she steps soundlessly toward it. I know I should be panicking like crazy, but I can’t find it in me to care.
The lid shifts and falls to one side with a heavy thump without her needing to touch it. Inside, the sarcophagus is full of soft throw pillows—but it’s still a sarcophagus. I hear myself moan in distress, but seconds later, we are standing inside of it and she is setting me down on the pillows.
I want to move, to get out of the stone coffin, but I still can’t seem to move. I start to protest, but Xtabay reached up and touches my forehead. That smell of rain and lilies increases, and I have to really think about why I’m so afraid of her.
She is so beautiful. I hope she kisses me. I mean, I’m not into girls like that, but I’ve been with them to please past lovers. I don’t have any hang-ups with sex with girls. I like them. And she’s so beautiful, like some angel come to Earth just for me—to save me. Would an angel really hurt me?
Xtabay smiles. “That’s better, isn’t it, my little fire flower?”
“Yes,” I say and smile, even though I don’t know what she means.
“You will be my new keeper, yes? You will guide me through this strange new world?”
I want to say yes, but I hesitate. What does that even mean?
“If you say yes, I will kiss you. You want that, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” I tell her honestly.
When she kisses me, I sigh. She tastes like sweet sunshine and gardens full of springtime flowers after months of cold white winter death, and her breath is hot and soft against my lips. I’m so tired of the darkness. I want to just drink it all up as if it’s warm wine and I’m dying of thirst.
She laughs, delighted with the way I’m squirming beneath her. She slides my coat off and digs her hands under my T-shirt, cupping my breasts. She holds them and squeezes them as if they belonged to her. Again, she kisses me. Her tongue dances down my throat while she fondles me. She kisses me as if she wants to crawl inside my mouth and down into my unnatural body and fill it with light.
I moaned against those delicious, sugary lips and she smiles in response and moves downward, leaving little sticky sugar kisses along my neck until she reaches my cleavage. Stopping, she wrestles my shirt off and undoes the front clasp of my sports bra. Then she’s kissing me again, following the contours of my body until she reaches the edges of my jeans. I moan in frustration and wiggle my ass, making it hard for her to undo my jeans and slide them and my boy shorts off. But somehow, she manages.
Smiling incorrigibly, she sinks down, making approving noises as she licks and tickles he
r tongue around my navel before dipping lower. Her hot, flitting tongue drives the pleasure deep into my body in pulses that leave me breathless and panting with anticipation.
“You taste like honey,” she whispers, her voice almost inhumanely low.
I groan as she pushes inward. With a gasp, I throw my head back on the pillows and writhe with her tongue deep inside of me.
“You will be mine? Say you will be mine!” Xtabay cries, her whole face alight with desire when she looks up.
“Yes!”
One last little lick and the orgasm hits me hard, making my legs clench Xtabay’s head as I shake all over with release. I scream, and the whole factory echoes with my cries of pleasure. It stokes the witchfire between us, and I feel the rush of that primal force as it consumes my skin all over so that, for a few seconds, I am, quite literally, a creature on fire. The ripple of blue flames licks at Xtabay’s body. But unlike the others I’ve touched with my fire, she seems delighted by the sensation.
Afterward, Xtabay climbs back up my body so we are again face to face. I’m still trembling in the afterglow of our lovemaking. But for once, I’m also at peace. I haven’t hurt her. I haven’t taken anything from her or enslaved her. She kisses me so hard I can taste myself on her lips. “Oh, little flower of fire and pain,” she whispers against my lips. “You are mine. And, together, we will rewrite the world.”
The lights in the room flicker and go out.
54
I’M SITTING in a bright, sunny room full of bookshelves. I realize it’s the library in White Haven, where I grew up. Before I became a teen and found out what a terrible and friendless place it was to live, the library was my refuge.
I’m a small child of five or six, dressed in a purple Barney shirt and brown corduroy trousers. I’m still three or four years away from the horrors that would slowly but inexorably manifest themselves in school. The girls who would revile and torment me. The teacher who would ask me to stay behind one day, only to bend me uncomfortably over his desk. At the moment, I’m still untouched—virgin.
I realize I’m here for Story Time, an event I’ve always looked forward to. We can’t wait for kind Mr. Felix to come in and read us a book. In my heart, I hope it’s one of the Serendipity books. I like those and the pictures are beautiful. Flutterby is my favorite.
But it’s not bent old Mr. Felix that enters the children’s section of the library. Instead, it’s my father here to read to us. Not my adopted father. My real one. John.
He’s dressed in a smart tweed suit, the silver glasses on his face. “Hello, children,” he greets the children gathered on the colorful throw rug. I feel particularly special when he turns to me. “Greetings, daughter.”
“Hello, Daddy!” I say, my voice high and enthusiastic.
He tsks. “What did I say about that, Vivian?”
I blush. “I’m sorry…“ I immediately correct myself. “…John.”
“Good girl,” he says, assuming the big chair at the front of our little group and opens the thick, heavy old book he’s brought. I’m a little disappointed because it doesn’t look like the kind of book I was expecting. “Today, children, we are going to read about the Legend of Xtabay, the Demon of Lust and Darkness.”
The children cheer at that. I cheer louder than them all. This sounds even better than Flutterby!
John smiles gregariously at everyone gathered. “The legend begins in a world very different from the one we live in now. In those days, the world was full of gods and monsters. There were no people or animals, then. Just darkness and war as the Old Ones gathered in their masses to battle for each other for control of Earth.”
I see the children around me nod, spellbound by my daddy’s voice.
“Earth was very important to the armies as it was one of the few worlds that had not yet been destroyed by either conflict or cosmic cataclysm and could thus life. So, of course all the Old Ones wanted it. In fact, they were willing to destroy one another to possess it, and the battles that raged were long and tiring and very bloody.”
He stops to look at me sternly over the top of his glasses. “I hope you are paying close attention, Vivian. This is important.”
“Yes, John,” I answer dutifully, my cheeks flushing because I’ve been singled out.
He returns to the book. “The greatest army of all belonged to He-Shem, also called The One—and, sometimes, The Name. He-Shem was strong because the army he created was made up of brilliant strategists and fearless warriors. Perhaps the bravest and most powerful of all was his favorite creation, Ha-Shaitan, also called The Star of Morning, because wherever he went, he filled that place with the light that was his master’s dominance.
“All who faced Ha-Shaitan knelt before his judgment. Whole armies were razed to the ground under his command, the bodies decapitated and then burned in giant holes in the ground, the god-bones scattered to become the foundation of the New Earth. But then, one day, he came upon the Old One who had named herself Xtabay the Flower That Never Blooms. He found her beside a fountain, washing her long black hair in the fragrant waters, and though he had been tasked with destroying every Old One he came upon and burning and scatterig their bodies, he found her to be beautiful to look upon. She smelled like spring and she spoke with great wisdom to the creatures of the night.
“Ha-Shaitan stopped his footman from destroying Xtabay and, instead, went out to speak to her. And do you know what happened, children?”
The children shook their heads. I shook mine with them.
“Xtabay charmed Ha-Shaitan with her wit and wisdom, and the two become allies and lovers on that day. And as they lay on the riverbank, exhausted from their passionate lovemaking, Ha-Shaitan confessed all the plans that his master Ha-Shem had for destroying the Old Ones. Naturally, Xtabay was distraught by this news, for she had friends and allies among the Old Ones. As they talked, Ha-Shaitan came to sympathize with Xtabay’s plight.
“The next day, Ha-Shaitan asked for an audience with Ha-Shem. Ha-Shaitan, being the favorite son, had the ear of his lord. He begged Ha-Shem to spare Xtabay and her allies from his wrath. He argued that Xtabay would make a much finer ally, and, eventually, Ha-Shem agreed to let Ha-Shaitan pass over her in his campaign to destroy their enemies. But what Ha-Shaitan did not know was that Ha-Shem had secretly deployed a platoon of his soldiers to the river where Xtabay dwelt.
“The men caught Xtabay unaware and trapped her against the rocks. He-Shem, who was a very jealous god, was irate that Xtabay had seduced Ha-Shaitan and turned his head. To punish her for what she had done to his favorite son, Ha-Shem had his men rape and torture Xtabay until she was broken and quite mad. Then he had his men banish Xtabay to the Outer Realms, where she would dwell in darkness and madness forever and ever, alone and apart from Ha-Shaitan forever.
“When Ha-Shaitan learned of what had been done to Xtabay, he questioned his lord for the first time. Naturally, Ha-Shem was insulted that his general would challenge his authority. The two had a terrific row, and in the end, Ha-Shaitan broke rank and left the presence of Ha-Shem, taking with him a whole host of his most loyal soldiers. As for Xtabay, her fate was far crueler.”
The children have begun to cry. One starts to scream. But my father continues on, unperturbed, his eyes entirely on me now.
“The great goddess dwelt in her darkness and her madness for many millennia before finding a small crack between the worlds, formed when the followers of Ha-Shem began to turn away and seek the counsel of the Old Ones, most of which had been banished. It took hundreds of years, but Xtabay was finally able to birth herself back into our reality, though she was not the same goddess she once was. She had brought with her a millennial’s worth of madness—as well as her hatred for men.
“It’s said she steals the skins of the guilty to wear upon her skin. But sometimes she will also slay the innocent. According to some legends, Xtabay can only be kept in check by a female witch of great strength of will. Such a woman has the power to become her high prie
stess and servant. But even though this woman may seem to act as a servant, she has enormous influence over Xtabay, for the demon is a wild, mad thing and can be seduced into acting out the high priestess's deepest and darkest desire…”
55
I JERK awake in the iron coffin, the cries of terrified children ringing in my ears.
It’s dark and I’m soaked in sweat and my heart is hammering in my chest so hard I think it’s trying to escape. In my mind’s eye, I can still see my father staring over his glasses at me, explaining about Xtabay. The story fills my mind and I spend what feels like forever obsessing over it the way you do a bad dream before it fades.
Sitting up, I look over at the naked woman lying beside me. Her back is turned to me, but I can clearly see her dark hair and the sigils marking the smooth brown skin of her back. They seem to shift and move. And I know then that it was no dream; Xtabay is most certainly an Old One.
“The demon is a wild, mad thing and can be seduced into acting out the high priestesses’ deepest and darkest desire…” I whisper to myself.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of absolutely certainty that if I don’t get away, we will destroy each other. Or we will destroy this world. I get slowly to my feet, trying not to disturb the demon, and quickly pick up my clothing, which is scattered. I slip it on quickly, forgetting about the underwear, and slide my coat and shoes on before creeping toward what looks like a closed door.
I glance back at Xtabay, but to my relief, she hasn’t woken yet. I scratch at the door until it opens. The hinges start to groan, so I only open in a few inches and slid out, leaving it open behind me. It’s only then I realize I’ve been holding my breath almost the whole time. Letting it out in a long gasp, I suck in a fresh breath and sag like some boneless thing against the wall.
Jesus Christ. What the living fuck have I gotten myself into?
I’m trying to figure out what to do next when my phone suddenly goes off. I have the ringer set to Scandal’s “The Warrior,” and the sound all the way up. I make strangled sound as I wrest it loose from my coat pocket and see it’s Sebastian calling, probably trying to figure out where the hell I am. I stab at the red icon, but I can hear Xtabay’s breath from the other side of the door. She’s awake. She’s goddamn awake!
To the Devil a Daughter (A Vivian Summers Investigation Book 1) Page 23
