There are so very few people who know the story. They pretend they do, or they make up their versions. truly, only her father knows all of the tales and she has not asked him for why would she want to bring up pain unbearable in the man she loves the most in all of the world.
Delilah was cursed, or blessed if you want to see it as such, with an eidetic memory. She remembered everything she had ever seen. It was not a part of Cain, it was hers alone in his lineage that she was aware of. Imagine the burden of being able to recall everything you have ever seen for more centuries than people even knew time was kept by man. She remembered jealously looking at the children of Seth play with one another, the Nephilim dying in the Deluge as she simply floated, knowing she would never die under the water if she were to go under it.
She was in Jerusalem that afternoon, standing on the Via Dolorosa as He walked by to His death, even His father not caring for Him. She had seen centuries of history and she was damned, literally and figuratively, if she would have the mistakes of the past repeated in the world that she and The Authority were building. She and her fellow members did not see the humans as cattle as some of their kind did, nor did they idolize them and envy their mortality. She saw them as they were, equal save for a single twisted part of their core. She was not better than them, she simply lived when they died. She would go and watch the movies they made and see her kind dying in sunlight and with crucifixes, garlic and running water and she would laugh. Immortality meant that. Death was not ever a thing that could happen. All wounds would heal. Cut off their head, it simply grew a new body. Burn them and spread the ashes? The wind brought all things together in time.
A few clever mortals over the centuries had collected the ashes and kept them in jars so they could not recombine. Delaying the inevitable is not preventing it. All things degrade, decay, break down and turn into nothingness.
All save them.
They got a few things right. There were clans of them, although it was more branches of the same family tree. They did truly despise one another sometimes. However, again, they kept thinking even we could kill one another, but no, they had all tried to die a thousand times in a thousand ways and nothing had ever worked. They had magic and powers, they were super strong and super fast, they drank blood and could indeed inject what was now known as a DNA altering virus into the bloodstream and cause them to be as them.
But, no, not really.
Only descendants of Cain lived forever. Those made did indeed have a vast span of years, but they could be killed in all the ways that they could not. It was a way to maintain a population standard if nothing else.
Delilah walked into the room and it grew silent. She always wondered what they remembered when they saw her. What century, what millennium? She shook the thought away and carefully set down her laptop on the great marble table where the rest of The Authority was sitting, save for one who sat in a dark corner.
“We will have the names called, we will speak their names and give them the ruling power they deserve by their name being said aloud by those touched by God’s Wrath and Disfavor.” Her father had told her to say those words before every meeting and so she had, every single time, for century after century.
She stood up, a black dress hugging her figure, her white-blonde hair standing in contrast to the rest of the ensemble. A few inches above five feet she was by far the shortest in the room, but what she lacked in vertical magnificence she made up for in the sheer power that being the first of them granted her. Her voice was deep and resonant as she said her name. “Delilah.” It flowed over the table and lit one of seven candles standing over the middle of the table and a purple and black flame burning on the wick. As the candle lit, Delilah sat down, her respect for the rest of her Family and Authority much higher than some would think.
From the back corner, hidden in shadow came voice filled with anger and pain both. “Venenum.” The table shook a moment before stopping, his power was visible as it moved across the room, a green and white pestilence that threatened to cover everything it came near. The candle more exploded in flame then lit. There was so much anger and pain in him, even the name he had chosen all those years ago meant poison.
Laughter next, not at his brother in the darkness, but the farce of this whole thing. No one cared about the fucking candles and they were all just afraid of hurting Daddy’s feelings or some shit. “Risus.” It wasn’t his real name, none of them save Delilah used theirs, but it was his voice, which was enough to light the candle with a pale pink flame.
Tears followed, a soft weeping that had never truly stopped in all the years he had been alive. Of all of them, he despised what he was more than any of them. “Solustri.” A barely audible voice through the genuine pain made each one of them feel for him in a way only family could, his candle lit with a low blue flame that tipped with yellow drops, like tears he shed eternally.
The next voice was sultry, dripping sex and power and unabashed joy. “Desdemona”. The candle exploded into a neon red flame almost instantly, her laughter following it as it had forever. While her brother wept eternal at his damning, Desdemona reveled in having immortality to taste every single decadence and excess she could. She even invented a few along the way.
“Dinah.” The voice was short, curt, even bored. She buried her head back into her phone and would not be bothered again save for something pressing, which is what she was in charge of, oddly enough. Her world was the computer and the phone, as it had been the salon before that, the bathhouses before that and the village squares since time immemorial. Her flame lit with a snap and an oaken colored flame burned.
Lastly, and so very much not least, the youngest and largest of them spoke. His voice deep and bestial, he despised speaking for that reason and he roared his name into the room. “Drysun.” When the echo had died, his flame lit the centermost candle, pulsing colors of the rainbow entire.
Satisfied the traditions had been met, Delilah opened her laptop and turned the screen so all could see the picture. A large…thing…of black and grey fur, covered blood and gore and surrounded by the same.
“We have a problem.”