The Nephilim: Book One (15 page)

"Tell me what you've done with
them!"

"It's not them you should be
so worried about," the woman glanced downward at Sophie with a satisfied
look.

Sophie looked in the same direction
as the woman to see she was not truly herself at all. Instead, she was looking
down on her own still-sleeping form, the body she possessed and controlled a
transparent shell, attached to the original at the hips. Just as she wondered
if she were dead, her solid body shifted, independent, and rolled onto its side
through the translucent arm Sophie used to hold herself up. With wild eyes, she
looked back to the woman, "What is this?"

"Temporary," she crossed
a leg over the other and delicately placed her hands in her lap.

"Is everyone else like this?
Are they all right?"

"There you go again," the
woman rolled her eye, the other unmoving and unreadable, and sighed. "But
that's it, isn't it?" In a quick, stilted motion, she leaned toward
Sophie, "You worry about them, not yourself." With a little sniff,
she spoke to herself, "How novel."

Sophie wrinkled her nose and leaned
away from her.

“You know, death is relative,” the
woman looked away from her, “One of your little friends has completely fooled
death, and that boy you think is your brother who’s supposed to be dead is
standing outside right this very moment.”

“What?” Sophie instinctively tried
to stand but could not.

"Out there, in the hall. Our
bond has been weakened by time, so I had to use some of his energy to get to
you, so you're welcome for that. He is angry, isn’t he?" she smiled, “But
I suppose that is to be expected. You play nice now, darling.” She raised an
arm and gave a short little wave.

Sophie woke with a start, sitting
straight up. She frantically grabbed at the blankets, throwing them away from
her, and happily saw that she was a single, intact, opaque version of herself.
She paused, listening. It was quiet again, but not like it had been in
the...dream? Sophie swung her legs over the bed with ease. Yes, it must have
been a dream, she told herself, standing and wiggling her toes and fingers to
be sure every inch of her body was functioning properly. It had been
frightfully real; the room she stood in had been perfectly replicated, the
memory of the woman's face and milky eye sharp as Reym's arrowheads. She
lingered by the bed, glancing back once just to be sure she hadn't left any
part of her body behind, then went for the door. The only way to really know,
she supposed, would be to check.

The hall was quiet and empty, lit
at long intervals by dim torches, and she padded silently with bare feet down
the stones. Opposed to what the woman had said, no one stood in wait for her.
Guards did not even patrol this part of the castle as it was closed off in the
center, Verrine had explained, and that only added to the quiet. Sophie passed
by the doors of Verrine, Mona, and Adam, and only his was unlatched. She
contemplated prodding it open and peeking inside, but quickly pushed past the
idea as well as the door.

At the hall's end, a generous walk
from the bedchambers, was an open room with a small fire in its center much
like the larger foyer downstairs. She stepped into the warm glow of the space
and surveyed it, but it too was empty. It was both a relief and a disappointment;
so much had been left unanswered on the Transcendental Plane.

She turned back but noticed the
hall had become much darker, even with the glow of the fire behind her thrown
into it. The torches, it seemed, were being snuffed out, in succession,
darkening the end of the hall and allowing the shadows to creep closer and
closer to her.

Sophie stepped back from the
darkness instinctually, but her back met with another body that had most
definitely not been there before. She gasped just as the fire went out and the
room was plunged into darkness.

"Hello again."

The voice, one she knew she should
recognize with joy, instantly shot dread into her heart. She jumped away and
turned, but could not see him in the dark. Then, her body was lifted in a swift
motion and thrown. Sophie slammed into the wall, the wind knocked from her, and
gasped for breath as she slid to the ground.

"You were a bit harder to find
this time," his voice was low, quiet, "But I kind of liked that. I
really wore myself out getting here."

Sophie tried to take a breath,
grasping at her chest, "You're dying, Eric," she wheezed between
shallow breaths as she remembered what Adam had told her about lost souls using
up their energy until they ceased to exist.

"Dying? I'm already
dead!"

She could hear his heavy steps
coming toward her in the dark and scrambled to her feet, "No, you don't
understand—"

"You don't understand,"
he spat as his hand shot out and grabbed the back of her head, "It was
your little stunt that got me this way." Eric wrapped her hair around his
hand and ripped her away from the wall. She reached up and held onto his arm,
trying to pull away, but found it impossible. This did not seem like a soul on
the verge of burning out.

Then the fire in the room's center
ignited into a blinding, blue light. Sophie shut her eyes against it as she was
dragged in its direction. She threw herself more violently against his arm,
trying desperately to get away. She was less sure of her powers now than she
had ever been. They wouldn't work against him, they couldn't, and she knew she
had to find another way.

The heat intensified as he brought
her up against the flame, plunging her head down next to it. With a scream,
Sophie flung her arms in front of her and gripped the stone bench that encircled
the fire, holding herself away. Eric let her dangle there, the sapphire flames
licking out at her, and she heard him scoff.

"Please, stop!" she
choked out against the oppressive heat of the flames.

"Stop?" Eric wrenched her
upward and to his face, and she gripped his arm tightly for support. "Why
should I show you any mercy, demon?"

Sophie gasped. While he seemed
infinitely powerful, she could read the truth on his face. The hollowness
around his eyes had deepened and their color had all but gone, black, dull
pupils sitting unblinking in their place. Long, cavernous shadows fell across
his face, and the fleshy tones had drained from his skin leaving blackened
veins creeping in from the edges of his jaw and forehead like ivy overtaking a
crumbling manor.

Still grasping his arm, she lowered
her voice, "Please, Eric, you're my family."

Eric exhaled, growling in the back
of his throat, "I am not your family."

And then, it made sense. Sophie
released him, her body falling limp. Eric, too, yielded at the sudden halt in
her struggle. He cocked his head slightly, and she noticed. She let her mouth
fall open, "You're not, are you?" Confusion ran along his face,
softening it if only minutely. She lifted a hand toward his face, the face
she'd looked on from the outside for so long, "Oh, Eric, I didn't mean for
this to happen."

"No." He shook his head,
rigidity and malice taking him, then pulled back a fist.

A hand appeared and grabbed Eric's
arm from behind. He swung around to see and his jaw was immediately met with
Adam's own fist. Sophie fell to the ground as Adam took another swing at Eric
which was promptly caught by Eric's hand and held at bay.

"Stop." Sophie's voice
was muffled by the scuffle of the two men as she lifted herself from the stone
floor. She watched as Eric pushed back against Adam, the veins on his face
growing toward its center, his skin that much whiter. He was fading.

"Stop!" she yelled, and
Adam glanced toward her. His concentration broken, Eric swiped his hand across
the angel and sent him reeling toward the hall. Eric raised his arm again, his
form becoming ever darker even in the bright blue light of the fire, and Adam
found his footing and started forward.

"No!" Sophie threw an arm
out toward Adam and the man was stopped by an unseen force holding him back.
Panic filled his eyes as he pressed himself against the transparent barrier
she'd somehow erected, and he looked helplessly at Sophie.

She, however, focused on Eric. The
disembodied soul too ignored the angel, but he stood very still, surveying
Sophie with narrowed eyes. She gently stepped toward him, trying to reign in
her shaking voice, "I understand now, Eric. I know why I wasn't in any of
the pictures, why my memories aren't complete, why you won't let me call you
brother."

He took in a sharp breath, and she
stopped, frozen. He tilted his head, the veins across his face receding if only
slightly. She let out a long, low sigh: she could do this.

"It's all because you're not
my family. I have no claim to you or your parents. I never did, did I?"
Eric shook his head in a slow, deliberate movement and wavered on his feet,
taking a step back from her as she edged closer. She stopped. Should she say,
she asked herself, watching his stance change. He looked less threatening
suddenly, almost frightened himself. Sophie stood a bit straighter, her voice
firmer, but inside she was crumbling, and she wanted to fall to her knees. The
truth, she realized, was that she deserved this, and he at least deserved to
hear her acknowledge it, "I killed you," she felt her lip tremble and
bit at it to stop, "And I killed them."

It lasted for just a moment, but
Eric's eyes changed then, the blackness falling away and their light blue
peeking in from behind them dark. Sophie saw the little boy she had watched be
embraced by his parents before going to his first day of school, the child
playing so carefree on the beach, she saw all the moments that she had taken in
and tried to trick herself into making them her own, and worst, she saw herself
make the decision to try and become one of them with total disregard of the
consequences.

Eric screamed. The sound he brought
forth from his chest was enough to waken the entirety of the realm. He threw
back his head, his arms spread like wings. Black veins lined his exposed skin,
crawling toward fingertips, and a dark, writhing shadow grew from his being,
devouring him. He would break, she knew, he would fly apart and completely lose
himself if he went on like this. And it was her fault, after all.

Sophie ran at him and threw herself
around his body, trying to contain him. She could feel his body contort,
pressing against her as if it wanted to be free of itself. Was this what it was
to be destroyed completely, she wondered. She did not want to find out.

She clasped her hands behind his
back and nudged her head just below his chin, squeezing as tightly as possible.
She felt warm, and, despite the danger she'd flung herself into, she felt safe,
and whispered, "I'm sorry, Eric."

There was a flash of white so
bright she thought she must have died, but she still felt Eric wrapped in her
arms. Furtively, she glanced up. He was looking down at her, confused, lost,
broken, but his eyes were losing their darkness.

"I was selfish, and I made a
terrible mistake," she told him, her voice cracking, "but please
don't do this to yourself. Don't you want to be with your parents again?"

Eric stared plainly into her eyes
for a moment, then a smile appeared on his face. Not vindictive, or cruel, but
one she remembered from long ago. "That would be nice," he told her.

"Then you should go."
Sophie loosened her grip but didn't fully let go. She watched him nod at her
then glance upward. The dark veins had receded and his skin began to shimmer
and exude warmth. Sophie felt a lightness between her arms as his body
dissipated. She closed her eyes, she didn't really want to see him go; he was
all she still had of the only life she could remember, but when she opened them
again, he was gone.

She looked over to where she had
trapped Adam. On either side of him stood Verrine and Mona, both more than a
little shocked. She was concerned, but she felt quite at peace as she made her
way to them. When they said nothing to her, she took a deep breath, "I
really never meant to hurt them, that family, it really was a mistake. I'd
forgotten until now."

Mona, though, was shaking her head.
She raised a finger and pointed at Sophie, “Did you know you're...you're kind
of glowing."

Sophie held her arms out in front
of her and could see they radiated a strange iridescent light. She rubbed at
them instinctively, thinking it would come off, but it did not.

"And for a second there,"
Verrine's voice was far away, like she were speaking to herself, "I could
have sworn I saw..." She trailed off as she lightly tapped Adam's arm.

Adam crossed his arms, peering at
her with utter confusion, and completed Verrine's thought, "Wings."

Chapter 14

In the courtyard, the sounds of
metal on metal rang out, paired with encouraged shouting and even some
laughter. A few bannermen had come ahead of their troops from across the realm
and were sparring, some with weapons, more with fire. Sophie had been taking
part, but marginally, and found she was unable to do much more than conjure a
simple flame on a highly flammable surface once again. The glow to her skin had
disappeared by morning and apparently so had her powers. Now, she watched as
Mona went from group to group demonstrating strigori abilities. She tapped Buer
on his shoulder and he tried looking back to catch her, but she’d already
disappeared across the courtyard to pop up behind Verrine who shrieked and
jumped behind Pru. This made Sophie laugh from her spot against the archways
that lined the courtyard, but it was fleeting, and her heart grew heavy again.

“Tell me,” Adam came up beside her
suddenly, “Would you rather be able to mix concoctions like Carabia or have
Aeshma’s strength?”

Sophie watched Carabia as she spoke
to a group of dark-skinned demons. She picked out the largest one, at least
three heads taller and two men wider than herself, and had him stand apart from
the others. She tossed a small bottle at him and the moment the capsule broke
at his feet, her victim collapsed in a massive heap and began snoring audibly.
Aeshma guffawed, slapping Carabia on the back, nearly knocking the girl over.
She then threw the passed out demon over her shoulder with ease and carried him
off, still chortling.

“Well, Aeshma can’t really run out
of strength,” Sophie thought aloud, “but I saw Carabia give Ose a potion to
make his fire poisonous, so I might go with that.”

“I’m not surprised,” he leaned back
on the wall.

“But I can’t do those things,” she
sighed heavily, “And I think this morning proved that last night was just a
fluke.”

“You’re being too hard on
yourself,” he told her, “And last night had to have been draining.”

Sophie peered up past the
crenellations atop the castle into the darkened sky and thought of Eric. She
bit her lip, wondering if she should say what had been rattling in her mind
since the night before. She had returned to bed after barely speaking with the
others, afraid she would reveal the broken memory that had come to her during
the night’s ordeal.

A hand waved in front of her face,
Adam’s hand covered in black markings, and then was replaced with his face,
“Lost you there for a minute.”

She pursed her lips and shook away
the thought. She needed something else to occupy her mind, “What are those?”
she asked pointing at his tattoos.

“Don’t you—” he screwed up his
face, the line of freckles across his nose crinkling, “Oh, that’s right.” Adam
held out one palm, “A name,” then the other, “and a place. If I touch them
together I can call forth my staff when I’m in danger.”

“You have a weapon?” Sophie hadn’t
seen him wield anything as the others practiced, but then he had not been interacting
with them much.

He shrugged and stepped back
through the archway onto the covered walk that surrounded the courtyard, “A
hidden one. I may be a cleric, but that doesn’t stop me from being attacked.”

She followed him, “So a name. The
weapon’s name?”

He nodded.

“And a place?” They continued down
the walkway, the sounds of the demons sparring muted.

“Everything must exist somewhere.”

She touched her own hands together
as if in prayer, “So you just do that? I guess angels never applaud anyone,
huh?”

He laughed, deep and cheerful, and
stopped behind a pillar, the courtyard blocked from their view, “Well, not
every angel is like this. There’s an invocation too. It doesn’t have to be said
aloud, but it bars misfires.”

“Can’t someone just steal it,
though? If they’ve seen the markings?”

“This is Enochian,” he held out his
right hand, “a language only an angel can read and reproduce. If, say, a human
even had my hand in front of him and traced over the letters, it would still
not read the same. So with that and the invocation, which is unique to each of
us who have it, there’s little chance it will be stolen, but I guess not
impossible.”

Sophie timidly placed a finger on
his outstretched palm and ran it over the line of symbols. When she reached the
end, she found his other hand beside the first and continued on, carefully and
unhurried. She wanted to be sure she traced every loop and bend of the letters,
pressing firmly where the lines were bold and gently dragging just the very tip
of her finger where they were narrow. At the line’s end she reluctantly pulled
away, seeing his fingers curl in as if they might have taken her hand.

“I had a dream,” she blurted out,
finding his eyes with her own, “Well, maybe it was a dream, I’m not sure. But
there was a woman, and I recognized her. She was the woman who promised to help
make me human long ago.”

Adam was stunned. He stuttered and
looked around, eyes finally falling back on her, “So you are...uh...you’re
remembering things?”

“No,” Sophie frowned, “Just her
face and the promise. I wanted to join Eric’s family. I had been watching them,
I think, and I found her and she said she could make it happen. Only,” she felt
her stomach flip, “it didn’t work out.”

He scratched the back of his neck,
“Do you remember anything else?”

Sophie searched his eyes. She’d
seen their pale blue many times now, but their familiarity rang back much
further than her active memories would allow. He had answers. She moved closer
to him, “Why did I want to be human, Adam?”

“You, um,” his voice was throaty
and low, and he leaned toward her, “You really cared for them.”

Sophie could feel his breath as she
tipped her face up to his, “Is that all?”

She watched his throat as he
swallowed, coming a little closer. “Sophie,” his nose brushed the tip of hers.

“Yes?”

Adam jerked his head away, and she
fell forward into the space he left behind. He cleared his throat, “I’m not
going to be around too much longer and—”

“What? Why?” she questioned him
more angrily than she intended, coming around to face him again.

“I’m not really,” he waved his hand
absently, fidgeting, “not really welcome around here.”

“Yes you are!” Sophie felt her
voice raising as she tried to stay in front of him, “Verrine, she doesn’t mind
you being here and Mona too and, well, me too. I want you here.”

He stopped, “You do?”

“Yes!” she shouted then lowered her
voice, “I mean, why wouldn’t I?”

Adam thought a moment, “When the
king and queen return they will want me gone.”

“Because you’re an angel? That’s
stupid,” she frowned.

“Well, it is what it is.”

He walked back out through an
archway into the courtyard and she hurried behind him, “That’s it?”

Adam gazed out at the demons before
him. Without turning back to her, he sighed, “It’s for your own good.”

She stared at the back of his head,
waiting. When he did nothing, she turned on her heel and strode away from him,
wishing she could run.

***

Sophie was unsure how long she had
sat and watched them before she could no longer take it. Buer had challenged a
foreign demon to try and stab him with his sword, and the others goaded him on.
Finally, the woman had done it, but instead of defend, Buer simply turned into
the oncoming blade, the sword sliding into the girth of his belly. The wielder
immediately released the weapon and Sophie had jumped up, clasping her hands
over her mouth, but before she could go to him, Buer burst out into an
unrestrained cackle followed quickly by his companions. He turned to Reym to
remove the sword for him as the hilt extended beyond his own reach and
announced, “You didn’t think I had all this for show, did you?” It had made
Sophie’s stomach twist in on itself. It was fine he had the ability, in fact
she was glad for it, but it made her realize that others didn’t. The wet sound
of flesh against metal was something she never wanted to hear again.

Mona had been a wealth of knowledge
for them on the strigori and shared as much as she could, but it was in her
actions that Sophie became nervous. She allowed Verrine and Ose to cast fire at
her as she sprinted about. “Speed is everything to some strigori,” she told
them and flitted around the courtyard. But she’d been doing so for a while and
subsisting off of animal’s blood had put a slight damper on her abilities. One
of Ose’s flames nearly caught her and she fell to the ground mid jump. Her arm
was slightly singed, nothing that would be permanent all assured her, but
Sophie insisted they stop the exercise. She was irritable, she knew, from her
discussion with Adam, but she used the anger to keep from backing down even
when the others said it would be safe.

Shortly after, she went inside. The
sparring came to an end later and the troops that had massed, departed for the
separate quarters they were keeping. Both Verrine and Mona tried speaking with
her, but she insisted she was tired. In reality, a million voices were
screaming in her brain and she could not quiet them. They warned her, probed
her to act in some way, but she had no idea what to do.

And then she found herself here,
again in the courtyard, but this time surrounded by quiet and shadow. She could
try again, she thought, away from the stares of those expecting something of
her, those who were immensely more skilled than she. She closed her eyes and
thought of fire.

“You're afraid they'll all die.”

The masculine voice came suddenly
from the gated end of the yard, and she thought it perhaps Reym or Ose, but as
the figure it belonged to emerged from the dark cloaked in a hooded robe, a
stranger seemed more likely.

Again he spoke, “You value their
lives above your own.”

“Who are you?” Without hesitation,
Sophie began down the field, taking long, angry strides toward the man. It was
all too much. She could feel it, rage, fear, whatever it was, bubbling in the
pit of her stomach despite that she couldn’t place the feeling, and it
propelled her.

The figure didn’t move, even when
she was mere inches away, and before contemplating her actions she reached up
and tore his hood back.

She gasped. Before her stood her
brother, her twin, his face immediately recognizable. It was almost as if she
looked in a mirror, his nose upturned, his cheekbones high. She’d seen him every
day since the moment either had come into the world until they were separated,
and suddenly that weight came crashing down on her. She threw herself at him,
wrapping her arms tightly around his wide shoulders. Then, the tears came. If
anyone could understand, it would be him. “Oh, Troi! Where have you been?”

Hands came to rest on her back,
encircling her. They were warm, comforting, but fleeting. He grabbed her arms and
held her away from him, his eyes, burning ocher, found hers. He stared long and
hard at her. When he didn’t respond, she shook her head, “Troi, we have to go
see Verrine. She’s been so worried—”

“No!” he shouted, gripping her
tighter, then relaxing with a sigh, “No, I mean, not now. There isn’t time.”

“What?” her heart began to pound,
“Why? What’s wrong?”

He held her close to him, his voice
low, "They won't let you fight, will they?"

“What do you mean?” She narrowed
her eyes as she searched him. Something was off. He was anxious, she could feel
that, but also far away as if he were almost trapped deep within himself. He
wasn’t telling her something.

"They say I'm not strong
enough," she found herself saying, though she hadn’t intended to.

“And they refuse anything less than
a war.”

“Well,” she swallowed hard. He
spoke so harshly it made her want to look away, but she couldn’t.

“It's true. They cast aside what
you want, don’t they? They treat as they always treated you, treated us.
Incompetent, powerless.”

Sophie nodded before she really
processed what he said. She gasped at herself, “I think they mean well, it’s
just—”

“It is because they do not know,
Sophie. They do not know what you really are. I suppose they cannot be blamed
for their ignorance,” the corners of his lips twitched, “but what would they
say if they knew? Would they really change their minds?”

She dropped her chin and squinted
up at him. It was impossible, it seemed, to break eye contact, “What are you
saying?”

“You are not a demon, Sophie.”

The truth washed over her like the
waters of the black river beyond the gates. It was warm relief, and she almost
smiled until she realized that it meant everyone else, all of them, had lied.

“No, no, you are so much more,” he
brought his face closer to hers, their noses almost touching, “You are a
nephilim.”

The word hung in the air though she
did not know what it meant, heavy and powerful and almost frightening. She let
it seep into her, lay its weight upon her, and she whispered it back to him,
“Nephilim?”

“Yes. Children of the astral. The
union of angel and demon is strictly forbidden because of the great power the
offspring would hold. Power that we hold.”

“You mean our parents aren’t both
demons?”

Troian shook his head while keeping
his eyes trained on hers, “That is why we have been kept secret, banished
within the castle walls. Our parents were foolish to hide us, our power, from
the world. But now, we can use that power, Sophie. Power that is so far beyond
what any of them know. We are the mighty ones of renown.”

Her head spun, her vision blurred,
and she would have fallen if he had not been holding onto her. She blinked up
at him, her mind swimming, “But it doesn’t change that I’m so weak,” she leaned
against his arms for support, “I can’t do anything.”