Page 35 of The Clash of the Damned
“Welcome, brothers and sisters to The Children of Christ!”
She’s greeted with a round of applause. “Praise Jesus!” echoes throughout the church as she basks in the attention from her congregation. She bounces her hands, encouraging everyone to quiet down so she can continue with her sermon. “If you’re here, you believe in getting rid of the blight on our city.” I hear assent ring out throughout the church as people raise their hands in agreement. “For too long, we’ve let them go unpunished. Now, we’re righting those wrongs and dealing out the wrath of God. The Divine Almighty only created Adam and Eve, not all theseothervariations we’ve heard about!”
Claps and cheers echo throughout the congregation. I’ve never understood why humans think praying to their Lord makes the rest of us lesser than them. Maybe today I will learn something about their reasoning. “When the Lord cleansed our world with water, He promised He would never do that again. Instead, the rapture spoke about fire. We should take that as our sign to rid these monsters with fire. The flames will cleanse us and our land, ensuring we’re free from the taint they’ve created from sharing the same city as us.”
It’s an effort to not burst into laughter as she preaches about the superiority of the human race. If only she could see how she’s picked partial truths from her Bible and twisted them to suit her version of the truth. If she truly believed that their Bible should be followed, she would be married and submitting to her husband’s sermon, not doing the preaching herself. That’s the problem with these religious types. They’re always so caught up in the rightness of their conviction that anything that looks or acts different is persecuted. History has shown that they rarely catch the guilty, and instead, end up persecuting the innocent because they look or behavedifferently. Someone who is in the wrong place at the wrong time, a woman who is too promiscuous, or same sex couples, the list is endless.
Amens ring throughout the church. I’ve got to give it to Eden, she’s a phenomenal speaker and knows her audience. She’s passionate, engaging, and if I didn’t know better, I would probably believe what she says; she’s that good. That ability can’t be taught or given to someone. And here I thought she was a petulant child the whole time.
A member stands up and says, “They murdered my brother, and I want justice!” It’s an effort to not roll my eyes as the rest of the church is scandalized at this unpunished behavior.
“Don’t worry, brother, we’ll see justice for your family. For all our families. Take comfort in his eternal soul being with our Father now. Some of us may perish during this battle for our divine souls, but it’s a price we must be willing to pay.”
There is no way that one of the Supernaturals murdered him. While I know we don’t need to, I also know that the Undead don’t hunt random humans, the likely culprits. It’s just human on human violence. I swear if there was a pitchfork and torch available, this crowd would grab it and come after the Supernaturals right now. I couldn’t have planned this better.
Holding out my hands discreetly, I draw energy from the lights, and they flicker slightly. All eyes are on Eden, and no one notices the slight glow in my hands as I amplify Eden to appear almost Godly, like a divine prophet, the type these church goers flock too. Eden notices the lights flickering and exclaims in awe, “See, this is a sign from our heavenly Father. It’s time to show these demons we mean business. We warned them to get out, and they didn’t listen. Now, it’s time to cut the head of the snake off at the source.”
Chapter 26 | The Bitch Is Back
Sloane
Iwonder when someone cleaned the hotel ceiling last. Is that something housekeeping does? The rich would probably know that answer.
What is the rest of the Siphoner empire up to right now?
They all know about the plan for me to go undercover with the Sorcerer’s, but what has my father updated them on? Has he poisoned them against me?
While each Supernatural type has several families, a product of the wealth they’ve experienced in this country, the Siphoner’s are significantly smaller. We only have three families, including the ruling one, mine. There have never been more than twelve Siphoner’s at once, including myself.
The way we decide leadership is…unorthodox. A few years after we settled in the deep South, my ancestors realized that with living so closely together we needed a fair way of maintaining leadership amongst all. While we didn’t want to end up as a dictator like ourfaithfulGoddess, we also didn’t believe in full democracy. Thus, cycling between each family and giving everyone a fair chance at leadership began.
We stayed small at first as it was easier to manage and hide after what we did to Hecate. But then we started to notice the other benefits. Being surrounded by family was one, making it so everyone always knew each other’s business, but learning from each other was another. Siphoner magic can be unpredictable, and we’ve worked hard to control it. Not all Siphoners can convert energy to magic as easily as I can; some only have the ability to convert the easiest of spells, and the act of conversion drains them. So we’ve adapted as is common with our type.
We knew from our origins that we could have children with humans; it’s why the Siphoners exist after all. But part of leadership’s job was selecting exceptional humans to continue our line with. Marie Leveau, my ancestor from my father’s side, was renowned for being a leader in times when it wasn’t safe to be a woman, or one of color. But unfortunately, by the time we had found her, she had passed. While she had many children, few survived until adulthood, and it was years before we found her children, and then their children. It’s why I was the experiment, the first of both the Frankenstein and Marie Laveau legends.
Back then, tradition dictated each new girl was called Marie, and their middle name was something different. That’s where Mom drew the line and compromised by switching it around with me. I finger my new locket, otherwise known as a gris-gris or voodoo talisman. It’s more than a cheap trinket that’s hocked at tourists where I’m from. It’s the reminder of what I’m fighting for. To create a life for my people where they don’t have to keep dying just for existing. While Mom was the Siphoner, she took it upon herself to teach me about the magical practice of my human ancestors, but after she died, Dad never bothered picking up the slack left by her death.
Moans from the next room travel to me, and I’m annoyed. This hotel promises discretion and sound proof relaxation in their rooms, and they don’t deliver. I flick my glowing hands, and the moans disappear again, my magic doing what this hotel can’t.
From what I understand, my parents were next in line to give me a sibling, and well, then Mom was murdered. After that, the responsibility of maintaining our numbers fell to the other families. With Nevis dead, I wonder who’s next on the list. Will I even be considered, being under-cover? I always knew my turn would come to grow our family, but I never thought it could be so soon.
Being on the run as a family wasn’t so bad; we had each other. Being on the run on my own…I never expected loneliness to be the thing that would bother me the most. Sitting up, I flick through the TV channels, looking for something to watch as I try my best not to worry about the future. My phone chimes, ending my trip down memory lane.
“Meet me at the address below in an hour. I’ve got a surprise for you. E.”
Intrigued, I jump off the bed and throw my sparse belongings into a bag. I don’t have many, at least that I care about. But as I put away the family picture I treasure most in this world, showing Mom alive and all of us happy, I can’t help wishing for a time where things are simpler. Before I leave, I withdraw a bit of energy from the hotel power grid. But something makes me pause…drawing a bit more energy, I pray to my human ancestors for protection while invoking my magic. I haven’t done this since I left home. Since I don’t have the luxury of a constant magical source like Dom near me, power grids are my next best thing. After a quick drop off at the storage locker to drop off my items, I use an app to call a cab.
Walking out the front door, I feel raindrops hit me in the face, and I sigh; an umbrella is the one thing I don’t have. Flicking up my flannel collar and making sure my jeans are tucked properly into my boots, I tap my foot while I wait for my driver impatiently. It’s hard to shake the habit of checking if I’m being followed, but I know it’s impossible for someone to know I’m here. One of my strategies for remaining undiscovered is moving to a new hotel every night. Some upper class, some not. There is no pattern to the hotels other than they’re unpredictably chosen.
Finally, the cab arrives, and as I sit in the back in the heated leather seats, I mull things over. Relationships of convenience always have an expiration date, so I’ve always known my arrangement with Eden would be temporary; we both have hidden agendas. She has the manpower to do the dirty work in culling the Supernatural population, and I have the insider knowledge she needs. But I’ve never trusted her, which has kept me alive until now. So of course, I’m going to show up earlier than the time she gave so I can see how forthcoming she’s stayed. I’m a firm believer in never making the first move, but letting the other party show their hand. If Eden realized this, she would always remain on top, but instead it’s her ego that will be her downfall.
I don’t mind cabs if they’re all as discreet as my driver. Other than the soft classical music thrumming in the background, he makes no attempt at small talk. Only when he slows down, do I start paying attention to him again. “We’re almost here. Is there a specific house you want me to drop you at?”
Double checking the address again gives me an idea. “Just drop me at sixty-three. I’ll walk the rest of the way if needed.” If the cab driver thinksmy response is strange, he doesn’t let on. I imagine in his line of work he’s seen worse.
To the unassuming eye, this looks like the average American neighborhood, with yards and white picket fences. But as part of the Supernatural world, I know to never accept things at face value. Everyone’s hiding a secret, even the ones that look harmless.
In all the times I’ve met with Eden, it’s been in public places, which is why this meeting spot has me on alert. Spotting a telephone pole, I draw a bit more energy into my magic store for good measure before I walk up to the designated house. Raising my hand to knock, I see the door fly open, and standing there is Eden, dressed like a cheap soldier knock off. She even has dirt rubbed on her cheeks, like she’s some warrior, and I almost burst out laughing at how absurd she looks. I don’t miss her surprise at me being here earlier than the designated meeting time.
