Lilith's Amulet Read online

  Lilith’s Amulet

  An Exalted Story

  By

  Elizabeth Blake

  All rights reserved, ©2019.

  These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, businesses, or establishments, is coincidental and not designed as a replacement for fact.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Elizabeth Blake, except as permitted by the doctrine of fair use.

  Not suitable for children.

  The Exalted Series

  God Strain

  Storm-Tossed Devils

  Fate’s Gamble

  Muttopia

  Scratch Lines

  The Dog House

  Bait and Bleed

  Dead Mutt Walking

  Silver Maiden

  Judas Wolf

  Lilith’s Story

  Lilith’s Amulet

  Lilith’s Demons

  Lilith’s Angel

  A Familiar Tale

  A Hex of a Night

  Crack Open A Cauldron

  Singing the Brews

  “’Who holds the devil, let him hold him well,

  He hardly will be caught a second time.’”

  Goethe, Faust

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Series

  Chapter 1

  Boston reeked of smoke. Black plumes clotted the sky.

  A vampire's mansion was burning to the ground with hundreds of corpses smoldering inside. Hungry flames spread beyond the brambling gardens and overran nearby housing.

  Half the city had already perished during a vicious, monster-riddled winter. Now, raging fire promised to destroy everything that remained.

  Lilith had bigger concerns. A demon was on the loose, and she couldn’t let him get away. If he did, she'd never find the key.

  Without the key, she'd die.

  She gathered handfuls of her long skirt and raced down the slick mansion steps. A cluster of her red serpents slithered alongside, leaving S-shaped trails in the snow.

  A werewolf’s howl blared in the distance.

  Lilith wasn’t the only famished creature roaming the city.

  Her sluggish, empty heart pumped with a resounding echo as she sprinted into the dismal dawn. She was exhausted, desperate.

  Ignoring everything except the demon tracks, she raced, bounded, and searched.

  The demon had left clear but confusing tracks in the snow. Instead of a humanoid shoe print—which she'd expected because the demon-thing was wearing black oxfords—there was an extra splattering of scraggly footprints no larger than the heel of her palm. They looked like the ink-blot stamp of a newborn infant’s foot.

  Leathery, clawed infants.

  Lilith followed the trail into the street where the road had been scraped by trucks, leaving slick sludge on the asphalt. Spring dripped through the world and machines ripped over the ground, erasing the trail.

  The demon was gone.

  Serpents slithered after her, bumping against her heels and crawling over her shoes. Her pets nosed around, tongues flickering as they sought traces of what she'd been hunting. She turned every which way and saw no clue. Her eyes scoured the neighborhood.

  Her prey was nowhere to be seen, despite her exceptionally keen eyesight. She could easily discern the numbers posted on the mailbox three blocks down, but she couldn’t see the demon.

  He'd escaped.

  She screeched and clenched her fists.

  Snakes vibrated, echoing her anger. They expanded their search, writhing through and over mounds of melting snow, fighting the cold that made them sluggish, that made some of the smaller ones stop altogether and succumb to brumation. They resembled twigs fallen on the ground.

  She cursed. If she'd had the foresight to make one of her vipers bite her prey, then she could have traced the venom.

  This is what I get for playing nice and trying to reason with the creature. Now I’m doomed.

  Angels would hunt her down, kill her. She only had one chance to escape them, a spell piecemealed together from old grimoires. She’d assembled all the mystical ingredients save one: the key.

  Without it, heaven would crash right down on her head.

  A magic spark burned in her breast, hot as flame, scratchy as poison. It swelled and pinched her heart, cinching and strangling. The ever-increasing pressure accompanied a compulsion she'd never been able to deny for long.

  So she didn’t try.

  She stretched her hands out to both sides, summoned the spark, and released magic like a warm breath. Power radiated into a nearby iron fence. Each snow-tipped slat wobbled, thrummed, and twisted to life. Iron begot scales and flesh and blood. Gravity pulled the newly-made snakes to the ground, where they wriggled and got their bearings. Long, slender black scales, bits of white on their chins like dollops of snow. The constrictors turned toward her, viewing her through opaque, beady eyes.

  A hundred hatchlings born in a single burst of Becoming.

  The pressure in her chest eased, but relief didn't last long. The miscreant she’d been pursuing was still on the run.

  Serpents flocked around her feet, imprinting on her scent. All she had to do was think about that fallen angel, Haniel, and her brood spread out, scouring every nook and cranny of the neighborhood. The serpent exodus left her alone on a solitary street with nothing but the sound of her harried breaths.

  She couldn’t remember being so ravenous. A meager pulse pounded through her drying veins.

  A car hurried around a street corner, nearly crashing into her. It screeched to a halt. The engine guzzled air then died, and a human with tattoos all over his face stuck his head out of the window to shout, “You crazy, lady?”

  Yes, actually. Crazed and famished.

  The human hadn’t reacted to the old blood smeared across her burned dress. She supposed she didn't make such an uncommon sight; they were in the midst of another apocalypse, after all.

  Her hollow veins clenched.

  She stalked forward like a lioness closing on wounded game, chin low, eyes up, mouth open. His eyes widened, and at last, instinct kicked in. He cursed, started the engine, and stomped on the gas. She thrust her hands through the open window and snagged his jacket in her fists, but he'd already dropped the truck into gear. It shot forward, yanking her off her feet.

  When she didn't let go, the vehicle dragged her along. Her elbows whacked noisily against the side panel and her feet were swept out from under her, but she didn't relinquish her grip. The road dug at her ankles, tore her dress. She gnashed her teeth against the pain, but, angered, she was even less likely to give up than before.

  Her weight trapped the human against the door, and he couldn’t steer in a state of panic. The truck veered off the
road.

  Flicks of pain snapped through her heart. She looked down and saw her younglings crushed under the rampant tread of the truck’s tires. Snip, snip, snap. Made sick with small sorrows, she watched her creations die.

  Centuries of that, and it never got easier.

  She pulled herself up enough to growl into the human's face. His oily hair scraped against her nose, and his clothes smelled sour with unwashed sweat. Gunpowder, liquor, and another human's blood rode the stink of his clothing. Her weight dragged his jacket down, leaving a bare, helpless span of flesh between his shoulder and his ear.

  Yes, thank you, she thought.

  She bit low, not caring that it was messier, he’d die faster, and she’d lose more of the blood. Her sharp teeth cut deep into the salty muscle. Blood gushed on her tongue. He bellowed. His meaty knuckles swung off the wheel as he grabbed for her.

  CRASH!

  Impact yanked her away. A nugget of him went with her, clogging the back of her throat. The sky tumbled around her as she flew and landed roughly into the side of another brick building.

  Why did Boston have so many hard goddamn houses?

  She rose to her hands and knees, slipped on the snowy slope, and turned back to the car. A stout tree was responsible for the abrupt stop, folding the truck engine into the human’s lap. He gasped and died before she had a chance to finish her meal.

  She ran her hands over the ruined tatters of her dress. Her feet bore open wounds from being dragged, and the newly-acquired blood rushed to the site. Lilith straightened, limping, and looked around.

  She choked on the stink of sulfur, a hellfire perfume.

  The demon was nearby!

  A black snake bumped his snout on her toe and then curled about her ankle, begging for attention. When he uncoiled, she followed, and he led her across the street and into a cemetery.

  The grounds were uncared for, mounded with snow. Only the tallest headstones and inanimate statues poked above the wintery expanse.

  Her throng of snakes flocked alongside her and she found the tracks again. The odd, blotchy footprints started nearby a garish sepulcher and led to a mausoleum. Shivering with hope, she rushed toward the fenced area and hopped the gate. The massive door was suspiciously heavy. What, did humans think the dead might up and walk away?

  She caught herself smiling since that was precisely what had happened with her.

  The aggressive throng of spear-headed iron serpents rolled through the crack in the door, wedging it open. The dim interior stank of burning cloth, but at last, she'd found her demon.

  Chapter 2

  Haniel huddled in the corner where he'd been dumped by the legion who'd helped him escape the burning vampire estate.

  Even though his impish friends had ushered him to safety, he didn’t feel grateful. Not in the least. He'd struggled the whole way because the stubborn, demonic bastards had left behind the most important thing in the world.

  Maggie, the suffering saint who had seen through his glamor and somehow managed to accept him despite the evil in his heart.

  He’d fallen desperately in love with Maggie in the course of two glorious, miserable days. She'd filled him with hope, a hope that had been crushed when she'd swallowed a witch's poison to help her die.

  He'd give anything to hold her in his arms. Even if he couldn’t have stopped her death, he could have embraced her through the transition. He could have tucked her under his chin and whispered tender words while she slipped from one plane to the next, taking the soul's route through the universe, leaving him behind.

  But he'd been whisked away.

  Now he didn’t know where Maggie was, or if she still lived. He wanted to go back for her, but something bad had happened to the joint in his knee when he'd landed on the stone floor, and he struggled to manage the acute pain.

  I only need a minute, he promised himself, rolling onto his back.

  In front of him, three white marble angels stood atop an altar, holding harps and horns. Their cherubic faces stared down at him, mocking him because he could no longer hear the hymns of heaven.

  He needed to get back to Maggie, if only to take care of the body.

  The mausoleum door swung open. Haniel heaved onto his side to face the intruder.

  A blonde vampire poked her head in. Her pale hair waved in every direction, her chin was coated in blood, and half her face had been scraped off. Even so, he recognized her.

  They'd met inside the vampire's mansion, but a lot had happened to them both within the last hour.

  “We weren’t introduced.” Her voice was like waves crashing against a cliff, but the sound left him feeling dry and withered. With her cheek torn away from her teeth, she looked ghoulish.

  He panted, addled with pain and narrow-minded panic.

  She glanced about the mausoleum and then slid inside. A flood of snakes accompanied her, carpeting the stone floor. Haniel shuddered but didn’t run. He was cornered, lame. She'd followed him all this way, and that wasn't a good thing. He should find out what she wanted and then distract her and hobble out the door.

  Or he could summon his legion of minions to help him escape. Maybe. They'd spent a great deal of energy hustling him from a dangerous inferno, ditching him there when they ran out of whatever magic kept them corporeal. How soon could they be able to help? Would they even come back?

  For the moment, he was on his own.

  “What do you want?” His voice cracked with pain and something worse: fear.

  “I know what you were,” she said. “But I don't know what you are.”

  “What was I?” he said, buying time. He knew she knew. She'd heard another vampire call him 'devil' and reference his fall from heaven.

  Slender black snakes skated across the floor, rippling like weeds in the sea. Haniel didn’t fear God’s creatures, but he knew these weren’t God’s at all. They hummed with life, but their swarming singularity reminded him of an army, a legion.

  He should probably be more concerned about them.

  She tilted her head. “Don't you know who I am?”

  “Should I?” He scrutinized her.

  Her brow wrinkled, and then she smiled. “Ah,” she said as if he’d explained everything.

  “Go away and leave me alone.”

  He hated how he sounded. Helpless, petulant, like a child.

  Her wounded cheek began to knit itself back together, flesh interweaving thread by thread. Her snakes sojourned about, reminding him of his absentee minions. Where had his legion gone? Had the vampire scared them off?

  She stepped deeper into the room. Snakes swarmed in behind her, layering three inches-thick on the stone, cresting to a wave near his extended foot. A shudder rolled through him.

  Her eyes swept the corners of the room. “How many of your kind came with you?”

  His kind? She must be referring to his minions. He didn’t want her to know they’d left him defenseless, so he said, “Dozens.”

  She cocked her head. “You wouldn't lie to me, would you?”

  I sure as hell would.

  Of all the times for his imps to disappear…

  Serpent tongues flickered around his ankles.

  Weeks ago, he wouldn’t have needed saving. Since then, he’d inched toward mortality. After he met Maggie, he’d eaten real food. Had a heartbeat. Fell in love.

  Then he'd lost it all. Again.

  Heaven is damned good at torturing me.

  He sneered. “If you're here to finish me off, get to it.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  Her lips parted in a smile which didn't reach her eyes. She walked deeper into the crypt, deftly avoiding the snakes, who parted like water for every step. Unlike his imps, her companions were entirely tangible. One bumped his foot, proving it, and pain shot all the way up his injured leg.

  He was hopelessly surrounded.

  She said, “My name is Lilith.”

  He knew; he'd heard other vampires say her name before the fire started
.

  “I said, my name is Lilith,” she repeated like she expected it to mean something.

  He bared his teeth. “Heard you the first time, bitch.”

  His own rudeness surprised him. He never would have used such language in heaven, not even on the battlefield of angelic war. This new, blossoming humanity was changing him.

  “And what should I call you?”

  Were they really playing this game? He glared. When she didn’t respond, he caved. “I'm Haniel.”

  Her eyes widened. Her laugh roared through the air.

  “Glad it's funny,” he scoffed, not getting the joke. He struggled to stand, laboring more than before. If only he could find a stick or a cane, something to help bear his weight.

  “You poor, unfortunate bastard,” she said. “I’ve spoken with your maker.”

  He blinked. She’s spoken with God?

  “Look, lady, I'm not in the mood for riddles. Stay away from me.”

  “Can’t, darling.” She knelt, dispersing a scrum of snakes with her long skirt. The meat of her face squirmed as it healed. “I need the key.”

  His gut sank. “I don't have a key. I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

  “Nonetheless, you're the answer. Somewhere, maybe locked deep down, lies the knowledge I seek.” She cooed, “You can give me what I need.”

  Her eyes pinned him, sharp as a scalpel aimed at vivisection.

  “What do you want for it?” she said. “I'll pay any price.”

  Hope sparked inside him. “Any price?”

  She'd tracked him miles from the estate where they first met and she had an army of familiars at her beck and call. Such resourcefulness might prove useful.

  “Take me back to the mansion,” he said.

  “No.”

  “That's my price.” He growled. “What's the problem?”

  “Lane’s house burned down. There’s nothing to go back for.”

  Haniel shook his head. “I don't give a damn. Help me save Maggie.”

  “Maggie?” she asked.