Elohim Page 3

  When she woke, the man was hammering a nail into the floor. She looked around wildly, digging through the sheets. Where was he? Where was her son? She pleaded with her eyes, but the man just gathered his tools. He grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her from the room. She yanked on his coat and pointed to the bed as they left.

  “The child?” he mocked.

  She nodded.

  “He’s where no one will ever find him.”

  Her eyes darted back to the room, then up at him. Holy God, she thought. He’s put him in the floor.

  It was late, just after two in the morning. The entire building was asleep. She tried to scream as he carried her from the apartment to the elevator, but her voice was faint. She tried to claw at him, but her hands were numb. She didn’t make a scratch. Once outside, he raced to the park across the way, nearly dropping her as he hurried. He found a wooded area and set her on her feet. She couldn’t stand on her own and tried to balance herself by holding on to his shoulder, but he pushed her away. She fell to the cold ground, the light snow stinging her exposed skin like a thousand tiny needles. He walked off, never looking back.

  She tried to crawl to the street, but she was so far gone, it may as well have been a million miles away. She collapsed, the exhaustion overwhelming her. She drifted off and as she pictured her son’s tiny face one more time, a single tear fell to her cheek. At least he never saw me cry.

  Suddenly, she was back in the apartment. It had changed, having been remodeled. Everything was different. She’d tried to go back to the servant’s quarters, to find her baby, but the room was gone. It was now part of a parlor decorated in strange furniture and inhabited by people she didn’t recognize. There was a man, a lawyer from what she gathered, having listened in on his conversations, and his very pregnant wife. They were happy. It was nice. But, it was immediately clear to her that they couldn’t see her, which could only mean that she had died in the park that night and was now haunting this place as a ghoul. She grew depressed, spending all of her time crying over her baby’s wooden grave and stalking the mother-to-be, who she could tell was beginning to be impacted emotionally by her presence, but what could she do? She couldn’t leave. Not without her son.

  As her depression grew, so did the woman’s. She began behaving erratically. Margaret knew she was adversely affecting her, so she maintained a distance, keeping to the corners and staying quiet. Not that she could speak if she’d wanted to. Not without her tongue.

  Soon, the day came when the lawyer brought his new son home. He was perfect with dark hair and eyes and a sweet disposition. She fell in love with the boy, watching as nannies and maids cared for him. The mother hadn’t returned from the hospital and the father became more and more absent as the boy grew. She decided he’d be hers, a replacement for the child so cruelly taken from her. She spent years watching over him, taking pride in his accomplishments and joy in his sweet smile.

  The years passed, though, and the boy grew into a man. It wasn’t long before the ache of losing her own son returned and she again cried for him. She thought she would suffer alone for eternity, until one night, the boy called Wyatt heard her.

  She tried to get his attention, to tell him what had happened. If she could just see her baby, hold him one more time, maybe she could move on. But, the boy went away, shipped off to college by his father who meant well but was very clearly not equipped to handle the job of ‘parent’. But, then, a Christmas miracle. The boy had returned. When she was sure the father was asleep, she snuck into Wyatt’s room and grunted at him until he woke. Still half unconscious, he’d sprung up from his bed and rushed to follow her to the spot. She’d pointed to it and he’d begun working, trying his damnedest to pull up the boards. The lawyer caught him, though, and that was the end of that.

  She couldn’t say that she’d been sorry to see the lawyer die. He’d reminded her of the man that murdered her and stole her baby in that he was a workaholic, cold and seemed to lack empathy. But, as she watched Wyatt, the boy she’d adopted in her heart, now a man with a broken spirit mourn what she assumed to be the loss of his father, she couldn’t help but mourn with him. Maybe she’d misjudged the lawyer. Either way, she still had a soft spot for the man before her. The boy she’d thought of as her own.

  Chapter 3

  Gabriel stared through the window of Mitchell Spade’s suburban Virginia McMansion. The man sat in a high-backed chair in his home office, his messy desk littered with files. He was talking on the phone, too quietly for Gabriel to hear through the glass. She flicked her wrist, attempting to snap his neck. Nothing happened. She waved at the desk, trying to set it on fire. Nothing. It was as she’d suspected; he was invulnerable. Lilith had placed a protection spell on him, rendering her powers useless. “Well, that frosts my cookies,” she muttered, turning to leave. It had been a long shot, but she’d hoped Lilith had neglected to insulate her general from supernatural threats. It would have been so much easier, just a quick motion of her hand and the whole thing would have been over. The lives that could have been saved, not to mention the time she could have spent keeping an eye on her grieving brother, making sure he didn’t do anything crazy. Now, she’d have to rely on the others to watch over him and none of them were equipped.

  I know it’s daytime, but I have a bad feeling, Gabriel texted. Get your ass up and get to Wyatt’s NOW. She sat, shifting in her aisle seat as the plane made it’s way to the city. It was only a little more than an hour flight, so she’d decided to fly commercial. Judging by the turbulence, that had been a mistake. The flight attendant, a pretty blonde with a chipper smile, made the usual ‘everything’s fine’ announcement and instructed the passengers to fasten their seat belts. Gabriel took note of how attractive she was and was thinking about striking up a conversation once the plane landed when she was jolted forward. The plane shook violently. A bird had flown into one of the engines and the pilot was unable to compensate. Oxygen masks dropped and she could feel the other passengers panic as they scrambled to put them on, screaming and texting goodbyes to their loved ones. They were falling fast, a crash inevitable. Just as Gabriel was about to use her telekinesis to hold the plane up, she saw the flight attendant raising her hands to her shoulders. She was whispering something Gabriel couldn’t make out from that distance; a chant? The plane slowly corrected itself as the woman muttered under her breath. “What fresh hell?” Gabriel said to herself.

  “Attention passengers,” the pilot’s voice murmured over the intercom. “We’re experiencing some technical difficulties and will be making an emergency landing in Harrisburg for repairs.” Gabriel couldn’t hear the rest of his announcement over the moans of derision from the other passengers. So ungrateful, she thought.

  She waited until the other passengers had all deplaned before approaching the flight attendant. She was surprised when she got close that she couldn’t hear her thoughts. She tried to look inside her mind, but all she saw was the face of another woman, yelling at her to ‘get out’.

  “Was that Violet?” she wondered allowed.

  The flight attendant’s face went pale. “Excuse me?”

  “In your head. That was Violet, right? Tituba’s daughter? Wow. I thought her line died out years ago.”

  “I don’t know what you’re--”

  “It’s okay,” Gabriel assured her. “I won’t tell anyone. I was just coming to see how you saved the plane, but that question’s been answered, hasn’t it? You’re a witch. A powerful witch. Descendant of Tituba Indian. I’m not often impressed, but--”

  The flight attendant looked around nervously. “How did you know that?”

  “I’m not exactly ‘normal’. What are you doing right now? You wanna get some dinner? Looks like we’re stuck here for a while. I’ve never actually been to Pennsylvania. What’s there to eat around here? I’m starving.”

  “Um,”

  “I’m Gabriel.”

  “Wendy.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Wendy. Anyone te
ll you lately how gorgeous you are? Like, stunning.”

  “Thanks,” she tucked her hair behind her ear as they left the plane. “How did you--”

  “We’ll talk about it later, maybe someplace less people-y. You hungry?”

  “Usually.” Wendy blushed, a rush of excitement running through her as Gabriel brushed the hair off her shoulder, her touch electric.

  “Let’s go, then.”

  “You’re hitting on me, right? I have a hard time distinguishing flirting from people just being nice.”

  Gabriel smiled. “Oh, I’m definitely hitting on you.”

  Chapter 4

  As the tub filled, Wyatt took a swig from a freshly opened bottle of whisky he’d found in his father’s pantry. He slipped off his shoes and his jacket before climbing in, not bothering to turn the faucet off. The water was cold and sent chills all through his body as he lay himself down, the icy pool covering his face. He looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes, opening his mouth and inhaling the frosty liquid. It felt like needles in his lungs, stinging and sharp as he seized. The pain was intense but soon was over, replaced by quiet nothing.

  “Wyatt?” Allydia called from the front door. She let herself in and took off her cloak. The sun wasn’t quite down, but Gabriel’s incessant texting had woken her. Any other time, her phone would have been off while she slept, but with her lover being in such a fragile state, she couldn’t risk it. She had to make herself available to him any time of the night or day. “Wyatt?” She followed the sound of water running and entered the bathroom, horrified at the sight of his lifeless body in the tub. “WYATT!” She pulled him from water that overflowed to the tile floor. She pounded on his chest until he sprung up, hacking up fluid and gasping for air. “Why would you do this?” she cried, turning off the faucet.

  “Leave me alone, Allydia,” he commanded, taking the whisky from the vanity and gulping it down as he sat in the inch of water that now covered the floor.

  “I won’t. Your sister was right, you are not to be left to your own devices.”

  “My sister,” he scoffed. “Of course she sent you. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You just tried to kill yourself! You aren’t in the same hemisphere as ‘fine’.”

  “It’s not like I’ll stay dead,” he asserted, drinking the last of the whisky.

  “You need help. Let me be of assistance.”

  “There’s nothing you can do. My father’s dead and I killed my son. I don’t deserve saving. You should have left me where I was.”

  “What are you saying? Lucifer--”

  “Took the fall,” he interrupted, trembling with rage and guilt as he spoke. “I killed Will. I remember it. I can still feel my hands on his neck, holding him under until he stopped moving. I’m the monster. Lucifer tried to protect me. He didn’t want me to know what I’d done when I was him, this thing inside. This angel.”

  “Barachiel,” she realized.

  “Just go.”

  “Wyatt,”

  He smashed the bottle on the side of the tub and held the jagged edge to his wrist, slicing it open.

  “Wyatt!” She jumped back, the scent of his blood causing her eyes to dilate and her heart to race.

  “Get out!”

  She backed out of the room, running from the apartment, afraid of what she’d do, the intoxicating aroma of his blood calling her to drink him dry. She phoned Gabriel, but no answer. She knew Lucifer would be of no help in this situation, so she called the only person left.

  “Hello,” Valerie answered.

  “Valerie, hello. Gabriel gave me your number in case of an emergency and I’d say your brother repeatedly committing suicide in his bathroom counts as such, yes?”

  “Holy shit! I’m on my way.”

  Valerie entered the dark apartment, fumbling around for a light switch. She’d never actually been to Wyatt’s place before and at first glance, it seemed typical of a stuffy old white guy, which his father had been. She passed the bookshelves, stereo, and television, noticing how archaic they seemed. Who had a stereo anymore? She found Wyatt in the kitchen, sitting on the island, drinking scotch straight from the bottle, his clothes wet and his sleeve covered in blood.

  “I’m finding them everywhere,” he slurred, holding up the bottle. “In cabinets and dresser drawers. I found a flask in the couch cushions. I didn’t know he had that big of a problem.”

  “Your girlfriend called,” Valerie said, hopping up to sit next to him. “You have any idea how un-fucking-nerving it is to have a vampire call you saying your brother’s killing himself?”

  “She shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  “I’m not bothered. I’m angry. What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

  “Don’t lecture me.”

  “I’m not saying don’t be fucked up,” she made clear. “It’s a fucked up situation and I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, but repetitive suicide? You know that is not okay.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “That is not happening.”

  “Go!”

  “Boy, don’t yell at me. Your girlfriend might put up with that shit, but I won’t.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re exhausted. Go put on some dry clothes and go to bed. I’ll be here when you get up.”

  “You don’t have to--”

  “I’ve lost one brother. I won’t lose another one, you hear me?”

  Wyatt sighed and put the whisky on the counter before heading off to his childhood bedroom.

  “Love you!” she called after him. “I’ll be checking in on you periodically to make sure you’re still breathing, so don’t lock that fucking door!”

  Chapter 5

  “So, what are you, psychic?” Wendy asked as she and Gabriel sat down in the back booth of the restaurant, out of earshot of the other patrons.

  “Sort of. I’m telepathic, empathetic, telekinetic and pyrokinetic.”

  “Pyrokinetic? I didn’t know that was a real thing.”

  Gabriel took a bite of bread. “It’s pretty rare.”

  “So, you can literally set stuff on fire?”

  “Yeah. It’s not that interesting. Tell me about you. Why did I think the Tituban line was extinct?”

  “It mostly is.” She took a piece of bread from the basket and smoothed on a pat of butter. “After World War Two, a lot of guys came back still in a combative headspace. With no more Nazis to fight, a group of dudes targeted witches. My grandmother’s coven was wiped out. She and her sister were the only ones that got away. They left Tarrytown, moved to New York. They figured a city that big would be a good place to hide, get lost in a sea of people. My grandmother eventually moved back and that’s where I grew up.”

  “And Violet in your head?”

  “Before she died, my grandmother used one of Violet’s protection spells to keep other witches from reading my thoughts. She was afraid of them getting hold of our spells, stealing our magic. It’s too powerful for most witches. They can’t handle it. It corrupts them, makes them violent and power-hungry.”

  “Wow. So, it’s just you left?”

  “Me and my great-aunt, but I’ve never met her. She and my grandma had a fight in the fifties about what they should do with their magic. Grandma wanted to keep it in the bloodline. Grace couldn’t have kids, so she wanted to start a new coven and share her power so it wouldn’t die with her. Standard family feud.”

  Gabriel laughed. “Yeah, totally normal.”

  Wendy smiled. “What’s your family like?”

  “Big, complicated. Kinda dark.”

  She laughed. “So, brothers and sisters?”

  “Tons.”

  “Parents?”

  “Died when I was in high school.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  “I feel like that should freak me out, but it doesn’t.”

&n
bsp; They both laughed. They chatted for several minutes, unable to take their eyes off each other even to order. They barely noticed when the food came as their flirtation continued. Gabriel sipped her soda while Wendy finally cut into her steak, her face falling in disappointment.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s fine,” Wendy accepted. “I ordered medium. It’s rare. It’s not a big deal.”

  Gabriel looked around to make sure no one could see them and slid Wendy’s plate to her side of the table. She covered the steak with her hand, a flame appearing between them, cooking the meat to temperature like a broiler. The fire dissipated and she slid the plate back.

  Wendy was clearly impressed. “That was damn sexy.”

  Gabriel gleaned. “I’m a sexy bitch.”

  She giggled. “You really are. You wanna get a hotel room after this?”

  She showed her the confirmation screen on her phone. “Girl, I already booked one.”

  When dinner was over, they took a cab to the hotel. As they traveled, they let their hands wander up one another’s thighs. Feeling frisky, Gabriel glided her hand underneath the skirt of Wendy’s flight attendant’s uniform and slid her fingers between her soft cotton panties and her skin.

  She touched her arm and whispered, “What if he sees?”

  Gabriel glanced at the driver and back at her. “I’m making sure he keeps his eyes on the road. Telekinetic, remember?”

  “Oh, we’re gonna have all kinds of fun together.” She kissed her softly and opened her legs, pulling her closer. Gabriel continued to touch her until they reached their destination. Once in their room, the kissing became more intense. They kicked off their shoes and stumbled to the bed. Gabriel slipped off Wendy’s panties and pushed up her skirt, beginning the marathon lovemaking session that ran into the early morning hours.