Tears of Blood by Simone Beaudelaire

news?"
    "I’ve been with your
naphil. He’s safe as of two minutes ago."
    "Oh, thank the Creator. And my
son?"
    "I saw him a week ago.
He’s angry, conflicted, but well enough."
    "And you, little one?"
    "Nothing to signify. Do you
have anything for us, Sarahi?"
    "Oh yes, so much. Come inside.
I’ll make you some iced tea, and we’ll talk. But take off that
mask, love. It’s much too hot for so heavy a covering."
    Nodding, The Assassin opened the
mask and lowered the hood before following the turncoat succubus into the
trailer.
    ***
    Josiah aimed a shotgun and fired.
Finally he was tall and muscular enough to take the recoil without reacting.
His peers had stopped growing years ago, and he’d finally caught up with
them. The shot spread wide, just to the right of the bull’s-eye, fanning
out. If that had been a succubus, she’d be dead. Though he had yet to see
it himself, the older men said they dissolved in golden dust. He couldn’t
wait to experience that someday. In a way, he was grateful to the succubae.
Because he was allowed to hate them, it took the pressure off everyone else he
hated. Josiah pumped the shotgun and fired again, this time imagining Mr.
Smith’s head on top of the target. Direct hit. Damned old man. He closed
his eyes against a sudden sting. Annie. Sweet Annie. Now forbidden. He’d
loved her so much. It had not been his intention, in that field, to seduce her.
He only had wanted a kiss. But her touch, for the first time, set him on fire
in ways he couldn’t explain, and he could remember, vaguely, willing her
to submit. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Only to be as close to her as
possible. He opened his eyes and turned to look at the window on the far side
of the compound. The elder council’s meeting hall. She was there. He
could see her mass of milk chocolate curls bouncing as she pulled a musty tome
down from the shelf. As she stretched, her slender shape strained her loose
blouse. A sizzle of heat shot through his loins. Try though he might, he could
not abandon his love for Annie. He desired her beyond sense, beyond reason.
Someday, somehow, he would have her. But first he had to prove himself. He
returned his attention to the shot-riddled target. Behind, the trees were in
the full bloom of summer. Hot sun beat down on his head, but still, despite it
all, a cool breeze wafted, bringing the scent of pine over the compound. Compensate
for the wind. Steady yourself. Calm. Slow breathing and heartbeat. Focus .
Josiah’s finger squeezed on the trigger. That’s for you again,
Mr. Smith, with your damned self-righteous bullshit. BANG! And for you,
Father. Never listen. You think you know it all . BANG! And for you,
Mother, whoever you are . His finger faltered. A rosy haze seemed for a
moment to be dancing on the breeze. Peter. BANG!
    ***
    Through the window, Annie heard the
target practice. She hurried over, the book forgotten in her hand. Watching
Josiah handle that weapon with such skill was far more interesting than
prophecies of the incubus. So she was training to be a teacher, later a leader of
the elder council. For now she was a young woman. She was more interested in
boys than books. And this boy in particular. His bicep bulged as he hefted the
shotgun, and several shots exploded from the muzzle in rapid succession.
Tattered remnants of paper flapped in the breeze. He had really beaten the hell
out of the target. She wondered what he pictured when he shot the gun. All the
grand adventures he’d be having once he passed his qualification exams,
no doubt.
    She wished the day would never come.
It was excruciating watching him work, noting a little bead of sweat which
rolled down the back of his neck. She smiled. Then her smile faded. Every
night, some mad voice in her head urged her to creep down the hall to his
bedroom and climb into bed with him, to finish what they’d started in the
meadow. She blushed just thinking about it. Other boys had asked her to sit
with them at lunch, or