Kristie Cook - Genesis

Cassandra looked at her Father’s empty bedding. She bent down and smelled him in the blankets.

“I miss you, Father,” she cried. “I miss you so much. I need you. I do need to know.”

She pulled the blankets back, wanting to crawl underneath them, to close her eyes and not think about angels and demons anymore. The thought of being a demon—even half a demon—scared her so much, yet she thought it might be something she would have to face. Maybe her vision had been clouded and confused when Father rose to leave them. Maybe that hadn’t been him at all, with the glorious white wings, looking like an Angel. Maybe Jordan had seen the truth, while she had seen only what she wanted … what she wanted to believe.

She looked over her shoulder at the door, wondering if Jordan had already left, if it was too late to catch him. But she was too exhausted to even try. She would decide in the morning if she really wanted the answers he sought.

She slid into Father’s bedding and began to lay her head down when something pricked her shoulder. She reached underneath herself, pulled out what felt like a twig and held it up to the fire—a small feather, about the length of her thumb. It seemed to almost glow, it shone so white, with gold at the tip of its quill. She held it to her nose and smelled Father. She brushed the feathery softness against her lips as she lay down. She smiled and closed her eyes.

And she saw Father, hovering above her, just like his last moments with them. When he rose with white wings outspread. When he looked so inhumanly magnificent. When he looked like his real self: an Angel.

No, she didn’t need answers from anyone else. She had to believe in herself, in her own eyes, in her own heart. As she’d told Jordan, what they now knew didn’t change anything. She would still care for others and heal them when possible. Her heart still desperately wanted that kind of love Father and Mother shared. And how could a demon want to care for others? Want love?

Jordan is wrong. She must find him and convince him before he ruined his life.

Jordan rubbed his jaw as he watched his sister disappear into the raggedy grass hut they called a home. He’d taught her how to throw that punch, never expecting she’d use it on him. If the forming bruise didn’t pulse on his skin and into his bone right now, he’d never believe her capable of physically harming another person. She had the strength and ability, but not the temperament. He wasn’t surprised to find that perfect Cassandra wasn’t so perfect after all, though. He’d suspected she had a streak buried deeply under all that goodness and now he knew how to pull it out of her.

He turned his back to their home and pulled his dagger out of his belt, swiping it at the thigh-high grass as he walked to the far edge of the clearing. His anger, ignited by Father’s death and fueled by Cassandra’s rejection, cooled as new plans formed in his mind. Perhaps Father’s death—an inexact term for someone who’d revealed their true dark self and then just disappeared, but the only way Jordan could describe it—hadn’t ruined everything after all. He just needed to convince Cassandra of their potential and how much better their lives could be. She should be easier to convince than Father, who had been so cowardly and stubborn.

Jordan’s plans had begun forming over a decade ago, although the idea had planted itself in his mind many, many years before then, while Mother was still alive. Once he had become a man, he’d grown restless, knowing there was more to experience in this world than their secluded lives. Although the rest of his family seemed happy, he was not. He wanted more. So Father took him along on supply trips and taught him how to barter in the marketplace, hunt in the wilderness and fight with a sword and dagger. While at the market one day, a rival army attacked the town. Jordan and Father had to fight or be taken as slaves, leaving Mother and Cassandra on their own. Jordan saw clearly that he and Father were superior warriors compared to any of the trained soldiers on either side.

After experiencing the thrill of victory, he questioned Father on the way home, asking why they didn’t just overthrow the rulers of a small village, claim their spot as leaders and create a real home for their family. Father quickly dismissed Jordan’s notions, explaining that although civilization was a threat to them because of their differences, they were to treat people with kindness, respect and love.

“It is not our place to rule a village,” Father had said. “We’re to serve the people however we can, but never abuse the abilities we’ve been given.”

Serve the people who would lock them up or stone them to death? Jordan didn’t understand and eventually decided Father was simply a coward.

After Mother died, Father and Cassandra found solace in each other, tightening their bond, while Jordan drifted further away. He began making the supply trips on his own since Father didn’t want to leave Cassandra alone. Jordan became braver and more assertive while in the villages, no longer willing to blend in and hide. He came to understand people better, becoming more involved with them, and he realized Father had lied. He’d kept them away from the villages for no good reason at all—they could have easily assimilated and settled down. Father’s unwarranted fear had forced them to live as barbarians. The realization that his father was not only a coward but also a liar brought darkness into Jordan’s heart.

He tried to accomplish what Father hadn’t allowed for them—a place in a village where they would be accepted, where he could join the army and eventually prove that he wasn’t just as good as everyone else, but even better. They gave him the attention he desired and he soaked it all in, especially the praise from the powerful. But eventually they’d always rejected him. They didn’t trust his loyalty because he had no “home,” no tribe or city-state he belonged to. When they asked who his father was and he couldn’t give an answer they knew, they insulted him and his family. Once he realized he’d never be truly accepted, the darkness in his heart grew.

One day, he vowed, he would rule all of them. Just as he’d told Father years before, he’d take over a small village and grow his empire from there. He’d get his revenge on all those kings and lords who’d rejected him. But he’d needed Father’s help and now Father was gone.

He still had Cassandra, though, and she’d just shown promise of what she could be, if he could convince her. And this revelation from Father—demon blood in their veins! He’d been shocked and angry at first, but the more he’d thought about it over the last two days, the more it made sense. He’d obviously felt it more strongly than the rest of his family, explaining the darkness in him they didn’t have—or, rather, that they suppressed. Now he understood and this was better than anything he could have ever hoped for. But before he could do anything, especially convince his sister of the truth, he needed more information.

He sheathed his dagger and broke into a run.

He ran through the night … and the following day … and that night. If they had walked the journey, laden with supplies and belongings, it would have taken them five days to reach the village where he knew those others lived. But nothing weighed Jordan down now and the possibilities of a new and better life fed his desire to get there sooner rather than later. He stopped to rest only once and approached the outskirts of the village on the second afternoon.

Knowing the others slept during the day and left their home only at night, he stopped by a pond outside of town. Pausing just long enough to untie his sandals and leave them on the bank, he strode straight into the water until it reached his waist. He dove under the surface, relishing the coolness and washing the dirt and sweat from his skin. Then he removed his chiton, cleaned it as best as he could, and threw it at a tree on the bank, where it caught perfectly on a branch to dry. He untied the leather strap holding his blond hair and tossed it to the bank, as well.