Forbidden (23 page)

Hesitantly, he asked, “What happened yesterday, when we … kissed? You said you saw something. Did you get a vision about me?”

Claire nodded. “I saw you drop a car on a man and kill him. In 1962. I think it was in France.”

“Oh shite.” Alec felt his cheeks grow warm.

He vaguely remembered the incident in question.
Of all things for her to have seen. Although it could have been worse
. “No wonder you ran off in such a panic.”

“Is that just a typical day in the life of an angel?” Claire’s hands clenched as her eyes challenged him. “You go around smiting people?”

Alec’s blush deepened. He shook his head. She deserved an honest answer—although he wasn’t ready to go into all the details of that just yet. “There are multiple classes of Grigori,” he admitted, “Elders, Guardians, and Watchers, to name a few. I’m one of the latter.”

“A Watcher?”

“Aye. We’ve all become so severely outnumbered by Earth’s exploding population that it’s difficult to do our jobs, but we still try. Watchers rarely kill anymore, and only with good reason.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear
that
.”

“And as I said before,” he added, “we don’t really think of ourselves as
angels
.”

“Why not? Grigori
are
angels, aren’t they?”

“We don’t really know
what
we are. We’ve been living a certain way, entertaining certain beliefs, and following a certain set of rules for thousands of years, all completely on faith—similar to the followers of most human religions, if you think about it. We just do what our Elders tell us to do—but not even
they
know the truth of our history.”

“Tell me what you do know.”

“Okay.” Alec led the way up onto a white wooden bridge arching gracefully over the canal and paused halfway across, leaning on the rail. “We know that we’re born of other Grigori and raised on Earth.”

“So you’re not from heaven?”

“No. There’s a theory that we originated in heaven—wherever and whatever that is. But as far back as any of us can remember, we’ve been earthbound. We live among humans and age at the same rate they do for the first thirteen years or so, until we reach puberty. After that, we age much more slowly, about one year for every twenty human years.”

“So that’s why you didn’t look that different in the vision I had. How old are you?”

Alec hesitated. “By human standards I’m about eighteen years old, even though I can pass for sixteen.”

“No, how old are you
really
?”

“A hundred and thirteen, more or less.”

She gaped at him. “Well, you look really good for your age.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

Their eyes caught then and they both laughed, which seemed to release some of her built-up tension. A quiet moment passed as they leaned on the wooden rail, staring down at the dark, still water below. Then she glanced at him again and said, “I’m sorry about yesterday, when I … freaked. I caught you pretty good with that door.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you were scared.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your forehead was bleeding—I saw the gash. But now there’s not even a mark.”

“We heal a lot faster than humans.”

“Are you immortal?”

“No. We
can
be killed. And we do die eventually.”

“Do you all have the same powers?”

“Not at all. Our gifts are very diverse, and passed on from generation to generation, in the same way that humans pass on blue eyes or red hair. For example, you inherited a mental power that is very different from mine.”

“Oh.” She looked at him. “You’re telekinetic, right?”

“Yes. From my father.”

“But that’s not your only power? You can move really fast?”

He nodded. “I also have my mother’s strength and speed.”

“I knew it!” She grinned. “I knew I didn’t hallucinate about the scaffolding.”

“Most Nephilim have a hard time understanding and accepting the Big Picture, or where their particular, extraordinary abilities come from. But you seem to have it all figured out already.”

“Well, I had all night to read up on it and think about it.”

“But how did you know to search for the word
Grigori
?”

She shrugged with a sigh. “Would you believe an old lady told me?”

As they crossed the bridge and ambled down the narrow sidewalk lining the other side of the canal, Claire launched into a vivid description of the series of psychic messages she’d been receiving. “The woman is beautiful, looks like she’s about sixty, and has a British accent,” Claire said as she concluded her story. “She claims to be a Grigori, and her name is Helena. Do you know who she is?”

“No. I’ve never met her.”

“Well, she definitely knows who
you
are, and that I’m a Nephilim.”

“Actually, Nephilim is plural. It’s Hebrew. The feminine singular is
Nephila
, masculine is
Nephil
.”

“Whatever.” Claire waved a hand impatiently. “Am I right that Nephilim are descendants of the Grigori—the result of your species interbreeding with humans thousands of years ago?”

“Yes. Every legend you’ve heard in the history of the world—not just about mythical heroes and gods, but monsters like the Sasquatch, wizards, werewolves, prophets, or demons—pretty much all of them are based on encounters with Nephilim. Most look like humans, but are more gifted.”

“Do all Nephilim have powers?”

“No. For those who do, their inherited talents become more and more diluted with each ensuing generation, and the powers don’t manifest until puberty, when the individual Awakens.”

Claire’s eyes widened now as if she was struck by a sudden realization. “
Puberty
,” she whispered, her cheeks turning crimson. “Oh! So
that’s
why…”

Alec could guess what she was thinking—it was common enough—and he felt bad that she was embarrassed. An awkward silence descended. He was relieved when Claire finally spoke.

“Is that why I’m able to sing so well now?”

“All of us can sing.”

“Choir of angels, huh?”

He shot her a displeased look.

“Sorry. I’ll stop using the
A
-word.” Claire shook her head as if in wonder. “So what exactly do the Grigori do?”

“In general, we keep to ourselves, hiding our abilities, and silently watch over the Nephilim. If and when they use their powers to the detriment of others, we’re obliged to step in and instill in them a sense of responsibility.”

“What happens if they aren’t responsible?”

Alec lowered his eyes briefly. “We call them the Fallen. That’s the group that lower-level Watchers have to police, and the Elites—like I was—are
sometimes
obliged to eliminate.”

“Eliminate,” she repeated slowly. “That’s what I saw you do … in France?”

He nodded.

“So … the Grigori’s job is to police the hybrid descendants of their forefathers?”

“Basically. We’re not allowed to meddle in human affairs unless they are threatened or compromised by the actions of the Fallen.”

A thought seemed to occur to her. “That Goth group at the mall … the people you insisted I stay away from … are they Fallen?”

“Aye.”

Claire frowned. “But they’re rare, right? Not all Nephilim are evil?”

“Most awakened Nephilim use their gifts in nondestructive ways. In fact, some of the most brilliant, productive, and influential ‘human beings’ in history were Nephilim.”

“Huh. So … was Leonardo da Vinci a… Nephil?”

“Aye. Mozart and Shakespeare, too.”

“Benjamin Franklin?”

“I believe so.”

“Einstein and Elvis?”

“Absolutely.”

“Michael Jordan?”

“Nah, he was that good on his own.”

Claire laughed. “Good to know there are still
some
of us who are just naturally talented.”

“Actually—I hate to remind you, Claire—you’re not
one of them
. You’re not a human being.”

“Right, right. But I’m
mostly
human, aren’t I? I mean, come on, I’ve got, what, like a couple of drops of Grigori blood in me? And by the way, since you seem to know all about it—which side of the family did I get this from? My mom or my dad?”

Alec looked at her, startled. Clearly, Claire wasn’t aware of her true nature after all. “When Helena spoke to you, didn’t she tell you what you are?”

“Yeah. She said, ‘You are one of the Nephilim.’”

“Aye, but you’re not a typical one.” Alec frowned, wondering how he should break the news. He didn’t want to frighten her—but he couldn’t hide the truth, either. They rounded a corner and headed down the adjoining lane, past the tightly packed, magnificent houses bordering the canal. “Claire, where were you born?”

“New York.”

“I thought so.” Alec shoved his hands in his jeans pockets as they walked. “Seventeen years ago, a Grigori conceived a child with a human mother in New York, and then disappeared. I think that was your father.”

Claire blinked. “My father is … a
Grigori
?”

“He is. Which makes you a Halfblood.”

Claire stopped in her tracks, staring at him, speechless.

“We were fairly certain to begin with,” Alec went on, “but now I’ve seen your aura—Grigori have golden auras, Nephilim’s are blue—and yours is green. There’s no question, Claire.”

Her hand went to her mouth, and she drew in a long breath, clearly thunderstruck. “I’m
half
angel?” she whispered.

“Aye.”

“Oh my God.”

“I’m sorry—all this time we’ve been talking, I thought you knew. You seemed to know everything else ….”

“So you know my father?” Claire asked, suddenly eager.

From her tone, it was clear she had no clue how serious her situation was, or the deadly consequences that might lie in store. Alec’s heart wrenched, knowing that he was going to have to shatter her world.

“No, but I know
of
him,” Alec replied slowly. “I don’t know all the details, but a colleague of mine has been searching for him, the mother, and,” he went on, glancing at her, “their Halfblood child all these years.”

“Why has he been searching for us? Why did my dad disappear? Did he do something wrong?”

“Aye.”

“What did he do?”

Alec paused, a flurry of sadness and frustration welling up within him. If only he could put off the answer to that question, or at least find some way to soften it. “He conceived you,” Alec answered quietly.

“Why was that a crime?”

“Because, since the proliferation of the Nephilim began, it’s been prohibited for Grigori to associate with human beings
or
Nephilim—let alone procreate with them.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You’re saying my birth was …
illegal
? That my entire
existence
is …”

“Forbidden,”
he responded, his chest constricting at the look of pain on her face. Gently, he added, “As far as we know, Claire, there hasn’t been a true Halfblood for over a thousand years.”

“A thousand years?”
Claire backed away, clasping and unclasping her hands, which were now visibly shaking. She stopped at the side of the canal, where she stood for a long moment, staring at a moored rowboat where a trio of white herons were roosting. “So that’s why my father disappeared,” she whispered hoarsely. “He had to hide.”

“Aye.”

A sudden thought seemed to occur to her. She whirled and stared at him, her eyes glistening with sudden tears. “You said it’s forbidden for Grigori to associate with human beings
or
Nephilim?”