Blood To Blood (12 page)

I'd read about fallen angels,
but I'd never dreamed I was reading about my own family. “Fallen angels were
evil, I mean
are
evil. Aren't they?” I asked.

“Some make unfortunate
choices,” Mom said. She ran a finger along a piece of lavender-colored lace
before placing it back in the book and moving on to the next page. “Some are
trying to atone for their mistakes.

“They came to this existence
to help mortal men. Star was one of the Watchers. Their job was to lead the
mortals and teach them how to survive. Over time, many Watchers fell in love
with mortals and took on human form in order to mate with them. It is said that
the Watchers loved mortals so much they rebelled against God. Some took on the
form of men; some took on the form of women. Children born of the latter proved
to be powerful and immortal. We think it may have something to do with the
gestation period associated with being in the body of an angel. Unfortunately,
those early immortals frequently murdered each other, mortals, and even
themselves. The fallen ones learned the hard way – they had to make
things right in order for their children to have better lives.

“Was great, great-grandma
Star evil?” I held my breath waiting for an answer.

“No, she is not,” Mom said. I
let out a sigh of relief. “The ancestors took steps to control their offspring.
Eventually, as we began to have families of our own and our numbers increased,
there had to be a way to keep track of all the immortals on the planet so that
we could know the very answers to the questions you just asked: 'Are they good
or are they bad?' The Mahá was created for that very purpose. We are not sure
when the first Mahá was, or when it was instituted as law. But we know Star was
instrumental in enforcing it.

“The concept of the Mahá is
simple. When a child is reborn, the family invites all other immortals to come
and see the newest of our kind. They see firsthand what powers and what kind of
character the newborn has. Mahá is mandatory for every new immortal, and it is
mandatory for every immortal to attend or be formally represented.”

“Does every immortal on the
face of the earth have a Mahá?” I asked.

“No. Not all are introduced
to society this way, but those with no Mahá are considered a threat to every
Mahá-introduced immortal. To have Mahá brings one under the protection and
acceptance of the Body of Restoration.”

“What's that?”

“The Body is a worldwide
organization founded by Star and the other fallen ones who sought to atone for
their mistakes with humanity. The Body creates and enforces Law for immortal
humanity. Without Mahá, one can be eliminated without retaliation or justice.
So as you can imagine, most immortals have one.”

Cici handed me an old album
opened to a black-and-white portrait of her and the rest of our family
surrounded by a massive group of people. “My Mahá.1871.” In the picture, she
looked slightly younger, and her off-the-shoulder gown—a dark, satiny
material decorated with dainty flowers—was to die for. She wore mid-length
white gloves and a choker around her long, graceful neck. Her elegant hairstyle
completed the ensemble.

Most of the family was
dressed in similar, if less spectacular clothing, with the men in three-piece
suits and top hats. The guests were dressed in formal multi-cultural wear. And
then there were others...

I pointed to the short,
dark-haired guy in full body armor. “Oh, that's Uncle Garroway,” Cici said with
a big smile. “He's forever medieval.”

“Well,” I said, “at least he
took off his helmet for the pic.”

The group stood on a lawn the
size of a football field. Behind them was a cliff with a breathtaking view of
the ocean. “We could not have Mahá here in the States, as it would garner too
much unwanted attention,” Mom explained. “So we bought a plantation in
Barbados, one of many that had been abandoned in the wake of slave rebellions.
We still own this plot of land and have had many happy memories there.” She
stroked the picture fondly.

“Your Mahá will be even
better,” Cici said with excitement. “We have so much more cool stuff now.
Digital pictures!”

Mom’s eyebrow arched and her
mouth formed a stern line. “That,” she said, “is proving to be a problem. There
is an entire outfit of the Body dedicated to policing the Internet, where a lot
of these pictures end up.”

“Mahá’s the event to end all
events,” Cici said. “So for your Mahá, not only will we have awesome playlists
and live music, we also built a house.”

Lately, my mouth had been
hanging open a lot, and now was no exception. I'd known that our family was
wealthy (how could you not be after centuries of investments?) but all my life
we'd lived in a pretty ordinary way. Now it seemed like suddenly we owned land
in exotic locales and were building houses for parties.

“It's in L.A., in the Pacific
Palisades canyons,” Cici continued. “Dad bought the land back during the gold
rush. I started overseeing the construction of your house a couple years
ago—”

“
My
house?
I
have a house!”

“Yes, Angel, a present for
your Mahá, it’s so cool, wait till you see it, you’re going to flip. And now
the work's all done and just waiting for your personal touch. There are even
secret rooms. And we've already retained Planned Events.”

Planned Events was a company
run by immortals who specialized in supernatural events. With PE, all you had
to do was plunk down a deposit and it would be held for however long it took
for the child to change. They were the best at what they did because their
business model could absorb the long waits between making a deposit and actually
having the event.

“And wait 'til you see the
view, Angel,” Cici added with a mischievous grin. “You'll die.” We all laughed
out loud at the joke. She pointed to a blonde in the Barbados photo. “Her
daughter, Grace, had a ridiculous Mahá a couple years ago. They rented out a
sheik's palace in Dubai and had some of the biggest rappers perform. There were
belly dancers, illuminated yachts, banquets. It lasted for over a week.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be
under the radar?”

“We are,” Mom said. “So
today's Mahás, like our lives, have a public face and a private face. The
performers, and all mortals involved, think they are working at coming-out
parties, quinceañeras,
bar mitzvahs, cotillions, etc. Mahá law
demands that only immortals attend the ceremonies and rituals, and these events
are not publicized. For the rituals, there are no cameras, cell phones, or any
kind of recording device allowed in.”

I gulped down terror.
“Rituals? Ceremonies?”

“Don't worry, Angel,” Cici
reassured. “It's nothing to be nervous about. All very formal and by-the-book.”

“The rituals and ceremonies
were crafted expressly to introduce the immortals to the rest of the world, and
vice-versa,” Mom continued. “Remember it is all about getting to know one another.
Now, my Mahá was a little frightening.”

Both Cici and I stopped
thumbing through the binders and gave Mom our undivided attention. She rarely
spoke about her childhood.

“My Mahá witnessed
interesting visitors. First, there was a five year-old boy. By then, Mahá rules
were set in stone and one of them was that only immortals were allowed, thereby
leaving out children who hadn't yet matured. But this boy was different. His
parents were mortal and had brought him to Egypt to save his life. Immortals in
our area, including your grandparents, gave him and his parents asylum by
direct order of the Body. I remember being very eager to see this boy who was
the object of the wrath of a powerful king, and the recipient of such
protection from the Body. He himself was born into very humble surroundings: a
manger, they said, alongside animals.”

Cici and I gasped. Surely Mom
wasn't talking about—

“At first, when he arrived at
my Mahá, there was an uproar among a few of the attendees due to his young age.
But among his many companions were several Ancient Ones. That silenced all
outcry.”

“Ancient Ones?” I asked.

“Our ancestors,” Cici
whispered. “The Fallen Angels.” Mom nodded and continued.

“In the early days, as they
tried to bring order to the chaos their offspring caused, the ancestors
attended every Mahá and actively enforced the new laws. At first they were seen
as parents and then, later on, elders, but over the course of time they became
feared as the walking personification of angelic forces on this planet. Even in
their fallen state, they were and always will be more powerful than any mere
immortal. Eventually, the ancestors sent representatives in their stead and
only personally attended the Mahás of certain individuals whom they took a
special interest in. 

“We knew the boy, Jesus of
Galilee, was a special guest when they arrived with him and a few of his other
companions, who were not of this earth at all. They had all come to see who I
was, to get to know me. Things would never be the same for our family after
that.”

“Why were they there to see
you, Mom?” I asked.

“My ability, molecular
manipulation, is rare and can be very destructive. If they had determined that
I was 'bad,' the Ancient Ones would have destroyed me on the spot. It was the
last time I saw Star.”

“Where is she now?”

Mom paused and put her binder
aside. “No one knows where the Ancient Ones are now. There are stories, myths,
that some of them, in their quest to be absolved, were allowed back into the
seventh dimension. Others say they exist somewhere between there and this
dimension, but no one knows exactly where. We do know they do not live among us
anymore, and because of this separation, we now always know when they come.”

If we had been sitting on
chairs instead of the floor, Cici and I would have been on the edge of our
seats.

“When an Ancient One enters
this dimension and comes into the vicinity of earthbound immortals, our
abilities are weakened and, in many cases, rendered useless until they leave.”

I digested this bit of information.
“But don't they run the Body of Restoration?”

“They do, but through
everyday immortals. The day-to-day global affairs of the Body are run by the
descendants who are handpicked by the Council. Council members are well known
to the immortal community. They are infallible. They represent the law in a
world where there are not many rules. They often act as stand-ins for the
Ancients at Mahá.”

Cici’s heartbeat speeded up,
and she had that anxious deer-in-headlights look again.

“You think Ancient Ones will
come to my Mahá,” I said.

“Oh yes, Angel,” Mom said.
“They will want to get to know you. And whether you survive your Mahá or not,
you, like me, will be filed away in the documents of the Body of Restoration.”

Her eyes held mine, and the
whites around her glowing red pupils seemed to hover like hot neon. I inhaled
with the sudden shock of understanding. “Body of Restoration,” I repeated.
“B.O.R….You?”

“Yes.” Her quiet answer was
more frightening than any scream. “As a Council member of the Body, I am The
Law. And have been for almost seven-hundred years.”

Instead of sleeping, I spent
the night mentally rewinding my entire life.

Everything I had heard and
seen in relation to Mom was infused with new meaning now that I understood what
her real job was. All my life I’d thought she was an attorney for a privately
held corporation. But that was her public face. Her true job was being a
Council member of the Body of Restoration.

Mom was immensely powerful.
Council was as close as you could get, in hierarchy, to the Ancient Ones
themselves. If the AOs were the Board of Directors, Mom and the other Council
members were the Executive Board.

Furthermore, Mom would act as
the B.O.R. representative at my Mahá.

The implications of this swam
like piranhas in my brain as I prepared to go to Sawyer's studio. We were
slated to fill out the tracks compiled the day Heist died. Although I had
recorded rough vocals at home, my fear at being around my colleagues now that I
was Shimshana quickly replaced the anxiety resulting from Mom's revelation.

It had been over a week since
I’d killed Heist with my voice. It was now under control, I hoped, but what
about my hunger? I’d almost bitten Sawyer that same day. What if I killed
again, just in a new way?

Just remember what I told
you,
Cici transmitted as
I approached the door to the studio.
Stay hydrated. Stay calm. You can do
this.

Hydrated. Check. I took
mental inventory of the ten thermoses of blood hidden in my knapsack.

Calm. Check…well not really.
For breakfast, I'd gorged myself past the point of bloatedness. I wore my most
comfortable pair of black jeans and a gold and white tee shirt. Nevertheless, I
was nervous as all get out as I pressed my finger to the bell.

And for crying out loud,
Angel, if you get hungry, leave as soon as possible.