Tears of Blood (7 page)

"But she did. Did she
die?"

"I hope not. Listen, what
would you do for Annie, if she asked it of you? What would you deny her?"

"Nothing," Josiah said
firmly.

"Really? And what if she asked
you to leave her? What if she asked you to take your baby and walk away? What
if it was the only way to ensure the little one would grow up safe? Would you
do it, Josiah? I know you didn’t understand as a child, but you’re
nearly an adult. Can you imagine a love that great? A sacrifice that deep? She
didn’t give you up because of a lack of love, but because of an excess.
She loved you too much to let you live in danger. And she’s always in
danger, son. And the only way I can protect her is to stay far away..."
Lucien’s voice stopped. It didn’t break. It just refused to come
out, as though his throat had closed. He looked into his son’s eyes again
and saw Sarahi in those glowing depths.

His throat opened and a flood of
words spilled out. "If only I could express to you, son. Your mother was
so... beautiful. So perfect. She was so very happy when she was pregnant with
you, stroking her belly and singing. Her soul shone like a gemstone; pure, pink
light. I loved just looking at her. Knowing it was my child growing inside
her... sometimes I thought I would burst. Believe me, Josiah. You are loved and
wanted."

His son swallowed hard but said
nothing. At last he nodded slowly, his expression far away. He reached out his
hand and Lucien stood, hauling him into a tight hug. Then the boy trailed out,
leaving his father alone with his memories and grief.

***

BANG. The bullet whizzed over the
top of the target, over the wall, and thudded into the badly scarred trunk of a
gnarled jack pine just behind. Peter snarled in frustration. He glanced at Mr.
Smith, who was regarding him with a questioning expression.

"What?" Peter asked,
irritated beyond measure by that quizzical look.

"You’re normally a crack
shot, my boy. What’s wrong with you today? That’s the fifth one
you’ve missed."

"I had a rough night,"
Peter answered, not really wanting to explain why he was in such a funk.

Mr. Smith didn’t speak. Just
kept on giving him that annoying stare.

"Okay, I had a bad
dream," he spat out at last.

"About what?"

Peter felt his cheeks burn. It had
been such a stupid one. "I’d rather not get into it."

"Dreams are important,"
Mr. Smith replied. "You might be a seer. Don’t be embarrassed. Just
tell me."

Peter sulked but Smith did not
relent.

"Fine," the boy burst
out. "I dreamed I was lying on the ground. I was trapped and
couldn’t move. And... someone... Josiah was standing over me. He said,
‘how do you like it, jackass?’ and then he sort of... waved his
hand, like he was picking something up. And then I woke up feeling like
shit."

Smith scowled at the obscenity but
said nothing.

"Stupid dream, right?"

Still Smith didn’t speak.

"It was just a dream,
right?"

"I don’t know.
I’ve often wondered... after a confrontation with Josiah, more than one
person has reported feeling... tired, drained. I don’t know what it
means. Maybe the boy is some kind of psychic vampire. I would give a lot to
know who his mother was."

Peter scoffed. "What a lot of
hooey," he sneered. "Psychic vampire?" He burst out laughing.
Smith was really on a roll today.

"You’d be wise not to
think yourself so clever," Smith told Peter, effectively shutting down
his mockery. "There’s a great deal in this world you don’t
understand."

Chapter
12

Montana 1998

"Come on, Josiah," Annie urged, lacing her fingers through
her boyfriend’s and running down the white-tiled floors of the compound.
Class had just ended for the day, and the two trainees hurried outside to enjoy
the late-spring freshness. They passed by door after door of meeting rooms,
classrooms, and apartment suites which lined the hallways of their home, and
out into the soft spring grass. The breeze they generated with their movements
was fragrant with pine and flowers. Though the courtyard was completely
encircled with a high white-stone wall, the adept nineteen-year-olds were more
than able to climb over it and escape into the hills beyond. And that’s
just what they did. First Josiah clambered to the top, tearing the knee out of
his blue jeans on the rough stone, so a hint of café au lait skin peeked
through. Then he lowered his hand and grasped Annie’s. Her skin was
lighter than his, more of a caramel color, but she remained his match
physically: tall, long-limbed, and strong. Despite the ankle-length skirt which
hampered her movements, she managed to climb up. For a moment they stood side
by side on top of the wall, surveying the wide-open land beyond the compound.
Up to this point, the L-shaped structure with its one three-story tower, walled
courtyard and pavilion at one end had been their entire world. But now, facing
adulthood, they were both feeling curious about what might lay beyond those
walls. Apart from the uneven Montana landscape, that is. From here, all they
could see in front of them was a tree-covered hill. To the left, a deep
depression in the earth had grown into a lovely meadow. To the right, long,
flat level land stretched as far as the eye could see. Now, in May, every
surface was covered in fragrant wildflowers of astonishing color. Josiah hopped
from the wall and helped Annie down, her long skirt billowing. He kissed her
lips gently and then they were running again, down the hill to the meadow.

The warm spring sun beat down on them as they embraced in the hip-deep
grass. They’d been doing this more and more lately, and Annie was
starting to feel a little nervous about where it was all headed. Of course, she
had every intention of marrying Josiah someday, but the clerics were quite
determined that as many young people as possible would earn a white wedding.
They didn’t always succeed. Annie was quite sure she’d seen a
little baby bump or two under the plain white wedding dresses, but she
didn’t want that. She wanted to wait. She was not sure, however, what
Josiah had in mind. His determination to get her alone made her a bit suspicious.
It was about time they talked about it.

"Josiah..."

Instead of listening, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
Well, there was no harm in a kiss, right? They were practically engaged.

She returned his kiss, snaking her long, slender arms around his neck
and opening her mouth. He was so sexy. His full lips compressed hers and he
tasted her deep. She knew he’d never kissed anyone else. They’d
shared their first embrace years ago. He’d required no adjustment time
whatsoever. The first kiss had been just as intoxicating as this one. It almost
seemed as though he was born knowing how. If so, being his wife would be...
very nice. She couldn’t wait. The rules stated that young people could
not marry before the age of twenty, but that was less than a year away. It was
about time they talked about it.

"Josiah..." she tried to speak again, but his hand closed
over her breast and her thought process stopped. There was a brief sense of
falling, made safe by his arms around her back, and then she was cradled by the
earth, the tall grass waving over her head as her beloved lowered his mouth
back to hers.

"I love you," she breathed. "I can’t wait until
we get married."

"I can’t wait either," he said. The last part of her
mind which was rational told her he didn’t mean the same thing by that as
she did, but the thought floated away as he skimmed her white blouse upward,
leaning down to press his full, sensuous lips against the flat plane of her
belly. She laced her fingers into his coarse black hair. He nudged the shirt up
with his chin and kissed her rib cage, kiss after burning kiss, nipping her
skin. Annie whimpered.

"Josiah," she managed to force out while his mouth was
otherwise occupied. "When do you want to get married?"

"I don’t know," he replied. He grasped her blouse in
his teeth and lifted it higher, baring her breasts in the sunshine. She rarely
bothered with a bra, small as she was, and Josiah took shameless advantage of
that fact, lowering his mouth to one erect brown nipple and sucking it to
throbbing tumescence.

Annie moaned, her reticence floating away. What if he was lifting her
skirt? She no longer cared to resist. She only wanted to be as close to Josiah
as possible. He switched from one nipple to the other, and the spring breeze
fondled the wet one like a lover’s caress. Annie moaned.

"Let me, sweet Annie," he murmured against her breast,
"say yes."

"Oh, Josiah," she moaned. He reached under her skirt and
cupped the apex of her thighs, where her hot, delicate flesh throbbed and ached
in anticipation. He slipped her panties aside, parted her virgin lips and
delved through, touching her wetness. Just as she had suspected, he possessed a
natural affinity for sex, and she opened her thighs, eager to experience more.
One finger slid deep into her as the heel of his hand compressed her clitoris,
stimulating the sensitive nub.

Annie wailed in pleasure.

"Say yes, Annie," he urged.

"Oh, Josiah, yes."

No sooner had the words crossed her lips than his fingers were
withdrawn.  He drew her panties down and off. Then his body was over hers.
She opened for him again. His penis touched her intimate flesh. She sighed, all
thoughts of white weddings forgotten. All she could think, feel, want, was
Josiah. She felt his flanks flex in preparation for the plunge into her...

And then his weight disappeared from her body. Annie opened her eyes.
When had she closed them? A shadow stood between her and the late spring
sunshine. It took several seconds for her to focus, and then...

"Grandfather?"

The wiry man tossed Josiah away as though he weighed no more than a
kitten. The boy stumbled.

"Hannah, cover yourself." He averted his eyes from her bare
body.

Face burning, Annie shoved her skirt down over her bare legs and
twitched her blouse back into place.

"Josiah, go to your room and wait for me. If you’re not
there when I arrive, you’ll never be welcome in this community again. Do
I make myself clear?" His voice was calm, but his eyes flashed like chips
of onyx.

"Yes, sir," Josiah replied, struggling to his feet and
racing up the hill to the compound.

"Well, Hannah?"

"Annie, please, grandfather."

"Never mind about that. What do you have to say for yourself,
young lady?"

"That I love Josiah, and I want to marry him." Annie rose
gracefully to her feet and met her grandfather’s eyes with her own
unflinching gaze.

"But you are not married to him. No one has asked the elders. And
you’re underage. I don’t see an almost married couple. I see a
young, naïve fool being seduced by a bad..."

"Stop it," Annie screamed. "I love Josiah. He’s
not bad."

"There’s something wrong with him, Annie."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "There is not."

"No?" He raised his eyebrows. "Then how did you give
up on your chastity so easily? I know you, Hannah. You don’t want this; a
clumsy lay in the meadow. Is that what all your talk of chastity, all your
leadership of your peers has amounted to? I’m disappointed in you."

Seen that way, Annie flushed. Yes, she’d been vocal in the youth
meetings. And now here she was, rolling in the grass like a hypocrite. She shook
some flowers from her hair.

"I’ve behaved badly," she said, casting her eyes at
the ground. Then she met her grandfather’s gaze boldly again. "But
it was my decision. Don’t blame Josiah. After all, he’s one quarter
angel. There must be more goodness there than bad."

"I don’t know," her grandfather replied, his dark
eyes focusing on the horizon. "Of all nephilim, I least would have
suspected Lucien of improper behavior. He’s just been promoted to
general. And yet he was the one who broke his vows, who brought his infant to
us to raise. There is weakness in his line. It shows in his son."

"No!" Annie shook her head, rejecting his words.
"Lucien is our hero. If anyone can get us through the battle, it’s
him. And there’s nothing wrong with Josiah. He’s just a young man.
And he loves me."

"He’s said so?" The old man raised one bushy white
eyebrow.

"Not yet," Annie mumbled.

"Annie."

"What?"

"He’s not for you."

"Why am I here then?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?" There. Now she had his attention.

"Since I was a child, you’ve prevented me from learning to
fight. I assumed it was because I was supposed to be with Josiah, our future
champion. You never intended that, did you?"

"No." His blunt admission was like a stiletto to the gut.

"Then why am I here? What need does the order have of me?"

His eyes went far away. "I don’t exactly know. For one
thing, this is the best way I have to keep you safe from what’s coming.
But... there’s something. Argh, why can’t I grasp it? I don’t
have an answer, except that I just know if you leave, all is lost. Please,
Annie. Please don’t make Josiah more than all of us."

Nothing further needed to be said. He gave her a long look and walked
away. Anne sank down in the grass and wept.

***

Mr. Smith wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. He’d lost so
much over the long decades of his life. His wife, Mary, with her beautiful
golden hair. Their daughter Pearl and her husband Jacob. His grandson. Annie
was all he had left. And he hadn’t lied to her. The partial vision he
received so often when he looked at her made it clear that she was the key to
so many things he didn’t fully understand. But one thing was certain. The
war was coming. There was no avoiding it. What was unclear was whether any of
them would survive.

Mr. Smith squeezed against the wall as a herd of teenage boys galloped
past him, their sneakers thundering on the tile like hooves. As they passed, he
heard one call to the other, "Race you for the assault riffle."

"You’re on, dude," the second boy agreed. With a roar
of adolescent exuberance, the pair shoved their way to the head of the pack and
burst through the rough-hewn door into the courtyard.

Shaking his head, he reached the end of the corridor and turned left,
eventually arriving at the apartment Josiah shared with three other young men.
He found the green eyed youth flopped on his lower bunk, his chin in his hand,
looking out the window.

Mr. Smith cleared his throat and Josiah jumped to his feet. Every
instinct the older man possessed urged him to put this overzealous puppy in his
place. His hands itched. His teeth clenched. "Well, Josiah," he
said, his voice all but a snarl, "explain yourself."

"I don’t think I can, sir. I didn’t... plan to do
that." The green eyes were fixed on one white tile on the floor between
them.

"Look me in the eyes, son, when you talk to me," Mr. Smith
insisted, "or have you learned nothing in all the years you’ve
lived with us?"

Josiah looked up. Mr. Smith suppressed a shudder. What was it about
those eyes which always made him uncomfortable?

The two men regarded each other in silence, each wondering what he
should say. At last, Mr. Smith spoke.

"It was a mistake to take you in, Josiah. You should never have
existed."

The young man ground his teeth. "I’ve always known you felt
that way, sir. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t thrown me
out."

"You’re not of age. But I swear by heaven, Josiah Angelson,
if you ever go near my granddaughter again, I will. It’s over between
you. Is that clear?"

Josiah’s eyes widened. "Sir, no, please. I swear,
I’ll never do anything like that again. I love her. Don’t separate
us. Please."