Kristie Cook - Genesis

“Mine.” She sank into one of the oversized pillows.

“Where are all your slaves?”

The woman smiled and her eyes sparkled, as if she knew a secret. In fact, Jordan thought, she always seemed to look as though she knew something he didn’t.

“They are all around me,” she said, waving her hand in the air, although the one-room house was apparently empty. “Anyone can be my slave if I so desire.”

Jordan took a step backward toward the door. “I said I am not one.”

She laughed. “And I said I don’t need one. Not right now. And not you.”

“Then what do you want with me?” If she wanted a night together, paid or not, he knew he’d succumb. There was something about her that made him ache with desire.

“It’s not what I want with you. It’s what you want from me. What you need from me.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I need nothing. However … ” He took a step toward her and pulled the strap from his hair, letting it fall loose against his shoulders. “ … I do want—”

She laughed, cutting him off. “Oh, I know what you want. It’s quite tempting. But not now, Jordan.”

His eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”

“I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been sent for you. I have the answers you seek.”

He didn’t say anything, only stood in the middle of her pillow-laden, fire-lit room, and stared at her with bewilderment. She pointed to a plush pillow.

“Sit and I will explain.”

He hesitated. “Are you a demon?”

“No. I am Eris.”

“What is an Eris?”

She rolled her eyes. “That is my name. Sit, Jordan. Be comfortable. Here, have some wine.”

Eris held out a cup that appeared from nowhere. He took it and sniffed its aroma, then lifted it to his lips for a small taste. The woman was too mysterious to trust. He decided the wine was safe, however, and took a deeper draw, then sat on the pillow she indicated.

“Do you know those men?” he asked. “How do you know me? And what do you mean that you were sent for me?”

“Those were not men. Those were vampyres. They are not like you at all. You are still alive. They are not. Not quite.”

Jordan peered suspiciously at the wine, wondering if she had indeed poisoned him.

“Explain or I leave.”

“You came looking for demons. I will take you to the true demons. The Ancients. They sent me for you, knowing you would come looking. Those vampyres are their pets. You want nothing to do with them. Trust me.”

“Why should I?”

She gave him that coy smile again. “Because you want to. Because you have to. If you want the answers you seek.”

“But you are not a demon? Are you a vampyre?”

An angry hiss escaped her lips. “Certainly not! They survive off blood. Created by the Ancients for the sole purpose of preying on humans. They pretend as though they are civilized but they are more beastly than any natural animal on this Earth.”

“Who are the Ancients?”

“The Ancients are of the original demons. The fallen angels you seek.” She lifted an eyebrow, questioning if he understood. He nodded. “They are the origins of the Daemoni, demons who Satan ordered to create an army on Earth. They have created many kinds of creatures and beasts, including their beloved vampyres.”

“And if you are not a vampyre … ?”

She smiled coyly again. “My father was a sorcerer—a demon who possessed a human, allowing him to roam the Earth while keeping his magick. My mother was human. Her blood diluted his powers, but I still have the magick of our strongest warlocks. However, warlocks prefer the physical fight and I prefer to fight with my mind.” She waved her hand over her enticing body. “Why would I risk harming this?”

“Why indeed?” Jordan asked, momentarily distracted. He took another swallow of wine, trying to focus on her meaning. “You have powerful magick? Did you start that fire under my feet today?”

She leaned forward on her forearms, her golden breasts pushing out over the top of her peplos. Her voice came out even lower than usual. “I am not a prostitute. I couldn’t let you get away with calling me one.”

Jordan licked his lips and forced himself to pull his eyes away from her luscious curves. He looked up at her face unabashedly. Anyone else would have feared her and what she’d just told him about magick and demons, but, of course, he was not like most people. Knowing she had demon blood, just like him, made her even more desirable to him. He could tell she wanted him, too. He reached toward her face. She grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand back at him.

“I said, not now. Whether you believe it or not, I am not that kind of woman.”

Jordan doubted that. He also doubted she could so easily deny her desire for him. Something else had kept her from undressing them both the minute they entered the house. Because she was that kind of woman. He took another swig of wine, emptying his cup. She flicked her finger and it was suddenly full again. He looked up at her.

“You’re not a sorcerer or a warlock, so what are you?” he asked.

“Despite my power, they call me a mere witch.” She shrugged. “What they call me matters not. All that matters is my power. Something for you to keep in mind.”

“Are you part of this army of Satan then?”

“I am Daemoni, yes.”

“How do I become Daemoni?”

She studied his face for a long moment. “You want to fight for Satan?”

“Demon blood runs through my veins. And so does that of a warrior. Why wouldn’t I?”

She made a sniffing sound, similar to the one the vampyre had made earlier, as though dismissing him. “We shall see if you have the heart for it. The Ancients will know and they want to meet you.”

“They want to meet me? They know of me?” He paused. “But of course they do. My father was one of them, after all. And so am I. Partially, at least.”

“They’ve been waiting for you for centuries, before you were even born. Ever since the prophecy about your mother.”

“What prophecy?”

“It’s not my place to say. The Ancients will tell you, if they so desire. If you want to still meet them.”

“Of course I do.”

Eris looked at him thoughtfully. “You seem so eager for this. But what about your sister? What about human life? Do you treasure anything besides yourself?”

“I care for my sister, but she is ignorant. One reason I seek the demons is to prove to her that we belong with them. We are not human. We are better.”

Eris smiled again and nodded. “Perfect.”

When Jordan awoke the next morning, he at first believed he had dreamt the night before, until he realized he lay on one of Eris’s pillows. Then he thought he must have drunk too much wine, because the conversation felt so unreal in the morning’s light. He had no doubts, however, about the demons. He probably shouldn’t have trusted Eris so wholeheartedly, but he felt she was the only way to find these Ancients … to find the answers he sought.

“You do not hide in the darkness of night,” he said pointedly as she prepared her house for their departure. “Not like those … others.”

He still wasn’t sure about the reality of that part of the conversation—men who drank blood.

“The vampyres?” she asked, confirming that they had, indeed, talked about them. “They prefer the night, when people are more frightened. They feed off their fear nearly as much as they feed off their blood. The sun also tends to weaken them. But not me. Not any mage.”

“Mage?”

“Those of us with magick powers. The vampyres have a different kind of magick, given to them by the Ancients when they created the first one. They can boost their power by feeding off a mage, but that would be very stupid of them.”