The Nephilim: Book One (13 page)

But before she knew, she stood at
yet another doorway that was being opened, this time into a room that held two
stone thrones on a raised dais. Behind the thrones, long banners hung against
the stone wall, bringing color and warmth into the chamber. There were voices
here as well, arguing it seemed, as the sounds echoed in the high-ceilinged
space. When the woman called Pru stepped to the side, Sophie saw the voices’
owners. Splayed on the steps lay a broad-chested and even larger-bellied man,
looking all the more bulky for the metal plated armor he wore. From beneath a
horned helmet, ribbons of fiery orange hair spilled, entangling themselves with
a long, full beard. Beside him, a petite woman sat, crouched over a bowl that
she dug a pestle into. She wore black leggings and a black jacket with a thick
belt covered in pouches, and spoke to the large man rapidly, stopping her task
every few moments to push back dark strands that fell across her sandy-colored
skin.

Three others stood at the foot of
the dais, a lanky white-haired man and a muscular woman who both had arms
crossed and brows furrowed. They spoke with a man who had his back to Sophie
and the others, a longbow slung diagonally across his back. Pru had gone behind
Sophie and placed her hands on her shoulders, a strangely comforting gesture,
as the rest came into the room and filed behind them. The wiry man saw them
first and lost his rigid stance, dropping his arms, the pout on his face
replaced with confusion. As his voice dropped from the room, the great woman’s
at his side followed suit, and she stared at them in awe. The man they spoke to
questioned their sudden silence and then turned. He was strikingly handsome
with curled black hair and skin like mocha. When his eyes, emeralds shining
from dark hollows, fell on Sophie, he reached for his longbow. Without looking
away from her, he aimed at the two still in heated debate lounging on the dais.
An arrow materialized just before he shot and it sailed at the others, landing
in the stone between them and making them jump to attention.

After a moment of silent awe, the
five rushed to Sophie and dropped down in salute, just as Pru had done. It was
too much for her and she covered her face, feeling redness prickle across it,
this time too embarrassed to request they stand. Instead, Verrine urged them up
and tried explaining that Sophie was not exactly herself.

“Your Highness,” the handsome,
dark-haired man stepped forward, taking up one of her hands in both of his,
“Your safe return is more than any of us could have hoped.” He brought her hand
to his lips before releasing it.

“Reym,” Verrine said, naming the
man as she came to stand next to Sophie, “He and the others are the elite guard
in this realm. You’ve met Pru,” the tall woman gave Sophie’s shoulders a little
squeeze, “And this is Buer and Carabia,” the rotund man dipped his head down
once again, his face obscured by the mass of red hair save for a bulbous nose,
and the small, sprightly woman repeated his action, her heavily-lidded eyes
squeezed shut, and small mouth stretched into a grin, “and Aeshma and Ose.”
Sophie had never seen such a muscled woman before, but there was no mistaking
her feminine features, wide hips, and even her skull, shaved on both sides
above her ears, was beautiful. She wore very little, her bronzed skin
glistening under the flames of the room, and her black hair raised up like a
horse’s mane, running down the center of her head and the length of her back.
In striking contrast, a scrawny man stood at her side with white hair, pale in
complexion like Verrine. He had large, gray eyes and a turned up nose with high
cheekbones and pursed, thin lips. He bowed deepest with perfect poise.

“Sophie’s memory is...foggy,”
Verrine explained delicately, “so this is all very new to her. We need to go
out of our way to make her feel at home.”

“No, no,” Sophie kept her head
down, “Don’t worry about me.”

“Nonsense,” Aeshma spoke in a
throaty voice, “We exist to protect our kindred, and your family. You are our
greatest concern, milady.”

Sophie’s eyes widened; it was such
a strange thing to hear.

Pru spoke from above her, “And that
includes your guests.”

“Yes!” Sophie quickly turned, happy
to direct attention away from herself, “This is Mona,” she pulled the small
girl by her arm in front of her, “She’s a strigori, but don’t worry because she’s
good.” Sophie noted the unnerved look that passed amongst the demons, and
grabbed Adam’s sleeve, “And this is Adam.”

At this, the demons narrowed their
gazes slightly, and Carabia audibly gasped, but the truest look of abhorrence
was on Reym’s face.

“They saved my life in the Material
World,” Verrine spoke up, “As well as Sophie’s. We all owe them a debt of
gratitude. But for now I was really hoping we could speak with the king and
queen.”

“Oh, she does not know,” Buer’s
deep voice resonated in the chamber, “Of course, she was gone before they
left.”

“Excuse me?” Verrine looked a bit
wild in her ashy eyes.

“The king and queen are gone. They
are traveling deeper within the realms. They spoke very little of the mission,
but requested we did not accompany them,” Reym spoke with a low, rumbling tone,
“And the prince has also gone.”

“Troi?” Verrine sounded distraught,
“Where? Why?”

“I was last to speak with him,” the
little creature, Thanatos, offered, “Or rather, to be berated by him. He was
enraged, as usual, but did not mention plans to leave.”

“As far as we know, the prince has
never been outside these walls,” Carabia piped up in a flighty, breathy voice,
“We have been...discussing what to do.”

Verrine turned to Sophie, Adam and
Mona with an anxious half-grin, “I really expected them all to be here. I’m not
sure what to do.”

They were quiet.

“We’re safe here,” Sophie reminded
Verrine, “We have time to figure things out.”

Chapter 12

A thin beam of light cast itself
between the blinds and crept across the floor onto the adjacent wall. Michael
sat on the foot of the bed staring at the light, like a scar across the
darkness. He traced the lines on his face absently then dropped his hand into
his lap. His mind refused to work right surrounded by the rest of them, and
he’d come here to be alone, but his thoughts were still too jumbled to sort
out.

The door cracked open and the
silhouette of a woman appeared in the light streaming in from the hall. He
blinked a few times as she closed the door, sealing out the light again.
"You seem out of sorts," Rose's voice was heavy and throaty as she
made her way to his side.

Michael hung his head and said
nothing.

"What's wrong?"

He watched her knees come closer
and felt them brush against his leg, "Nothing."

Rose sat beside him and laid a hand
on his arm, "Can I help you relax?"

She squeezed his arm, and he
twitched, "No, I'm fine."

Rose climbed onto the bed behind
him and took hold of both his shoulders, "Something is wrong." He
felt her weight shift as she leaned in close to his ear, "You can tell me
what it is."

She massaged his back for a moment
as he stared at the floor. How she could be so calm after all that had
happened, he couldn’t understand. Hot breath fell over his neck and Rose's lips
pressed against his pulse. She herself had delivered the news that they’d all
been summoned to The Order, and yet she continued to play these games. He shook
his head, "Aren’t you worried?"

Rose leaned against him fully,
“No.”

He peered at her from the corner of
his eye. She bit her lip and leaned over so that her ebony locks were tickling
his knee. Then it occurred to him, "If Naomi wants me to come out, why
doesn't she just order me to?"

Rose grimaced and removed herself
from him, "She’s not the end all be all, you know. I came on my own
accord."

"Either way, I'm fine,"
he stood and moved to the far wall, placing a hand on the dresser.

She scowled at him from the bed,
"It’s because of Mona. That’s why you’ve hidden away in her old
room."

He could feel her eyes boring into
him, but refused to look.

"My god, you
miss
her.”
Rose stood as well, laughing under her breath, “That bitch betrays up, abandons
us, tears your face to shreds, and still you’re like a sad little puppy over
it.”

Michael cringed, "You make it
sound so…"

"Accurate?" Rose snarled,
"Because it is. All I'd like to know why you're still so attached."

Michael finally lifted his head and
looked into her dark eyes, a flicker of green igniting in them, "She was
my friend, Rose. And yours too. And now they want us to kill her."

"You've never had any trouble
killing traitors before," she said plainly.

He was silent then: she was right.

"In fact," Rose smiled
and stepped toward him, "I always admired the way you would cut their
throats so slowly. You have a real gift."

He groaned and ran his hands
through his hair, leaning up against the wall, “I did what they told me to do.”

“You enjoy what they tell you to
do,” she poked him lightly in the chest and ran a finger up to his neck, “And I
can see to it that you get to continue doing that, Michael, but you’ve got to
prove yourself. You can’t let feelings for that...that child get in the way of
what you need to do.”

He looked away, his voice quiet,
almost quivering, "She's not a child."

Rose thrust her hand upward and
gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet her eye. She dug her nails into his
cheeks, “You disgust me.” With an extra jab, she released him, “You’re a fool
for not taking advantage of what’s right in front of you.”

The words didn't hesitate before
they left his mouth, "Why don’t you shower your affection on your brother
if you find me so unappreciative?"

Rose's eyes widened and her mouth
hung open before snapping shut. She made for the door in two long, angry
strides. Her hand tightened on the doorknob ready to wrench it open in fury,
but stopped. She took a deep breath then peered over her shoulder at him, eyes
blazing, “Remember, you had your chance.”

***

It was finally quiet, and Sophie
was alone. She thought she’d like it that way, but in the silence, her mind
began to wander, uneasiness crept in and banged at all her thoughts. She was no
longer on Earth, there were no other humans here, she had an entire past life
that she could not remember.

She shivered and sank herself
deeper into the water until it came up to her nose. It was becoming apparent
that her plan to simply stay in the bath until the end of time would not pan
out. Verrine had requested Thanatos to bring her food which she quickly scarfed
down and had shown her where to bathe before going off to meet with the guard.
Mona and Adam had dined with her on animal blood and human food respectively,
but she’d been quickest finish. With a sigh, she admitted to herself it was
inevitable that she would again have to face everyone, the bowing, the constant
onslaught of information, and stepped from the clawed tub.

Verrine had given her clothes to
wear, a simple white shift dress  that she'd been told was hers, and she
slipped it on after drying off and ringing out her hair. It was soft and
comfortable and she stared at herself in the mirror that made up an entire wall
of the bath. Her amber eyes stared back, purple circles beneath them. She
trailed her fingers through her hair, dark with wetness, and removed any
tangles. Instinctively, she reached for a small box on the counter and pulled
out a hair pin, only stopping as she reached for her hair, realizing what she'd
done. Black and smooth with a rounded end, the pin felt right in her hand.
There was nothing extraordinary about it, but then she had known exactly where
it was, and that was strange. Shrugging, Sophie gathered the few loose strands
around her face and pulled them back securely with the pin, allowing the rest
of her hair to air dry as it would over her shoulders. Within the box were a
few other trinkets, earrings, a necklace, some dried flower petals, and a small
jar holding a salmony pink paste. The paste smelled of fruit and she dipped in
a finger, rubbing the waxy blend across her lips.

There was no more time for
stalling, she guessed, and stepped out into the hallway, but happily found it
deserted. She started down the hall carefully in the opposite direction from
where she'd come. She let her feet guide her as she peeked through doorways and
traced the seams of the stone walls with increasingly bold fingers. She only
stopped when she heard music, until she realized she was the one humming and it
was echoing back to her from the corridors.

She went on for quite a while like
this, her mind's busyness replaced with investigating the new yet familiar
surroundings, until she rounded a corner and saw him standing at the hall's
end, leaning against an archway. He hadn't noticed her yet, she could turn and
continue on her way, but something about Adam made her want to go to him.

He was so entranced by what he
stared at, he did not hear her as she got closer to him. She stood peering at
him, unable to read the bit of his face she saw. His lips were drawn into a
light frown, his forehead wrinkled in thought. She had the urge to disturb him,
strangely, to shake him out of whatever it was he was pondering, and cleared
her throat.

Adam started, eyes wide and
suddenly alert as they fell of her. "Oh, hey," he offered, pink
showing on his pale cheeks, "You kind of just appeared out of nowhere,
didn't you?"

"I guess so." As the embarrassment
grew on his face she couldn't help but smile and had to bite her lip to quell
herself. Now that she stood so close to him, she could clearly see the patch of
freckles on the bridge of his crooked nose, spattering out over his cheeks just
below powdery blue eyes. They only added to how vulnerable he looked at that
moment, and she thought she may as well take advantage of that, "You know,
you might want to be a little more aware of your surroundings."

"Why's that?" he asked,
composing himself.

"Well," she teased,
lowering her voice, "Those guards didn't seem to like you very much. You
never know when they'll be around the corner."

Adam's voice dropped into a serious
tone, "You noticed that?"

"Oh," she shrugged,
shaking her head, "I'm just kidding. I know you're kind of, what,
opposites or whatever, so I just thought...anyway, what are you looking at so
intensely here, huh?" Sophie quickly poked her head around the arch to
change the subject.

Color screamed back at her, lush
and leafy greens, bright crimsons and oranges, scatterings of azure and indigo.
Sophie gasped, stepping out into the space, the smell of earth and fresh rain
filling her senses, "What is this place?"

"This is the royal
conservatory," Adam told her, "I asked Verrine where it was, but I
haven't been able to bring myself to go in yet."

"Well, let's go," Sophie
reached back and grabbed his hand, pulling him out onto the grass. They both
peered upwards, a presumably faux sky sparkled above, despite that they were
most definitely still indoors. It was full of stars and even a waxing moon that
cast a cool, jade glow on everything below. Trees reached up around them,
hanging over a marked path that led away from the arch and into the thick of
the flora, their dark greens and browns swaying gently in a ghostly breeze.
"It's gorgeous," she breathed into the air.

"Yes, it is."

Adam clasped her hand a bit more
firmly and, though it felt natural, she still slipped hers out of his, a bit
more hastily than she had intended, and began down the path. He followed a few
steps behind.

Under the cover of the trees it was
a bit darker, but tiny floating lights lit the path by their feet. Crickets
sang from somewhere out in the greenery and leaves rustled as if the trees
whispered to one another. Sophie looked over her shoulder and Adam immediately
reverted his gaze. She thought to change the subject, and decided to clear up
one of the many things that had been on her mind, "How do you do that
thing with your hands?"

"Hm?" he looked back up
at her.

"The thing where you touch
someone and they don't hurt anymore," she questioned, slowing so he would
catch up to her, "Are you actually taking away the pain or are you, you
know, tricking my mind into thinking it doesn't hurt anymore?"

"Oh, that." Adam put a
hand on the back of his neck as he fell in beside her, "It's not a trick
at all. I'm a, well, I was a...medic, I suppose you'd say. A healer, cleric.
It's what I'm made to do."

"So,” she furrowed her brow,
“you actually healed me those times? How?"

"Well," he paused,
chewing his lower lip, "I haven't really thought about how it's done
before. It's natural to me, I guess. All clerics are descendants of Raphael,
the archangel,  so we're born with the ability. It's not something we learn.
Not really."

"That's...crazy," Sophie
laughed, "I mean, it's amazing, and you don't know where it comes
from."

"Well, yes, I guess it is a
little crazy," Adam chuckled, "It takes concentration and a strong
will. And it's limited. You saw I couldn't save Verrine all on my own. Just encasing
her like that took almost more out of me than I had to give."

"Because she was so badly
hurt?"

He nodded, "And she is a
demon. I'm not meant, of course, to be able to help her."

Sophie stopped at a bush with
bright fuchsia flowers, reaching out and touching the plant's fuzzy petals,
"Because you're an angel." She gave him a sidelong look.

He met her eyes for a brief moment,
his anxious and almost sad, "Yes. I am only meant to help them."

"You could heal me
though," Sophie said, a lilt to her voice, "And I'm human."

"Human bodies are," he
thought a moment, choosing his words carefully, "different. They can be
very easy to fix as they're not very complicated, but they're also quite
fragile, so too much damage and it's a very different story. I restored your
body to its human state, but that's what it wanted, so that was relatively
simple. It's quite keen on being exactly how it is right now."

Sophie laughed, "It's
stubborn?"

"Indeed."

They both continued on side by side
through the garden, their steps slow as they followed the twisting path. The
crickets serenaded them as they went.

“They don’t really know me,"
Adam spoke after they'd walked on a bit further.

"What's that?"

"The elite guards, I mean. You
mentioned they don't like me, and you are correct, but they have never met me
before." Adam spoke with conviction, his words simple and hard.

"Well, I hadn’t before now
either,” She stopped in front of him and looked up at him earnestly. She wished
he would tell her everything, "But I know you're good." She waited
for him to forfeit some kind of information, but when he didn’t she continued
on down the path. It wouldn’t be that easy, she realized.

He waited a moment then began
following her, "How?"

"Well, you said you shouldn't
have been able to help Verrine, but you did."

"Not the way I wanted
to." There was frustration still lingering in his voice.

"But you did want to, and you
said you need a strong will to do what you do. That tells me what I need to
know." Sophie skipped ahead a few steps then turned on her heel. He was
stopped, staring at her again. She tapped a finger to her lips, "Not that
I would mind if you told me everything in great detail." When he didn't
speak, she sighed, "But you're not going to."

Rolling her eyes, she wandered off
the path to a tree a bit removed from the others. It was unlike anything she'd
seen before, its trunk twisted in on itself as it climbed skyward, leaves like
black blades of grass, hanging down in long, thin strips. It was a tree, wasn't
it? She reached out to touch the bark but it bit at her and she quickly pulled
back her finger from the shock. She thrust her finger into her mouth with a
squeal and Adam was quick to go to her.