The Nephilim: Book One (7 page)

As she stepped toward it, the door,
an inviting forest green, swung open and she stopped, Mona at her heel.

"Someone’s here?"
Trepidation rose in Mona’s voice, though she tried to suppress it, and she placed
a protective hand on Sophie’s shoulder.

He stood in the doorway, gripping
the knob so tightly Sophie could see the veins protruding from his arm even at
this distance. He stood rigidly, as if on edge, but below his ruddy hair his
face was the same, soft, comforting, with knitted brow and crooked nose. Sophie
could feel a lump form in her throat.

"Careful," Mona cautioned
as Sophie started forward.

"No," Sophie shook her
head, "It’s okay."

"You know him?" her
cousin was confused, walking briskly at her side.

The man was smiling at her, an
anxious sort of grin. Sophie smiled back, "I’m not sure."

Chapter 6

"We've searched everywhere,
sir, she just hasn't shown—"

"That's not good enough!"
The vacant hall quaked with his voice as he slammed a fist down onto the arm of
the stone throne. Torch lights reflected in his eyes, red and angry, and he
trembled with his own rage, but he reigned in his voice, dropping it into a
solemn whisper, "That's just not good enough."

A small but rotund creature with
leathery black skin and a long, serpentine tail stood at the foot of the stairs
leading to the throne, staring up at the royal with bulbous, watery eyes.
"If I may suggest, we could possibly name a new handmaiden, or, perhaps,
we may leave that position vacant seeing as your sister—"

"Go." Troian stood, fists
balled at his sides. He could feel the fury pulsating within him, darkness
swelling around him, pushing against his every fiber. The creature hesitated a
moment, but, with a glimpse of Trojan’s fiery eyes, bolted from the hall.

Troian swung around and released
his rage, igniting the banners that hung behind the throne. Flames climbed up
the material ravenously and licked at the ceiling, illuminating the room. When
the report came in that Verrine had gone missing, he was sure she would return
within a day: it was too foolish for her to go alone, and she would surely turn
back before she reached the second realm. As time passed, however, his
assurance turned to worry, from worry to fear, and fear to anger. Losing his
sister to that place was bad enough, and his parents descending deeper into the
realms left him feeling trapped and useless, but now with Verrine gone, he
faced being truly alone.

As the heat in the chamber grew,
sweat beaded at his forehead, and he strode down the few steps to a raised
basin of water. He doused his face then gripped the sides of the bowl. His life
had never taken him beyond the walls of the castle, his parents saw to that for
both him and his twin sister, and he, at least, had obeyed. Was it finally time
for him to venture into the unknown? At a loss for what to do, he stared into
the basin for an answer, but was shocked to see it was not his own face that
stared back.

"Oh, Troian, how has it come
to this?"

He glanced behind himself as well
as above but found no other body within the chamber. Reflected in the basin in
place of his own visage was that of someone markedly older with a short beard
and cropped hair. He was not of this realm, of that Troian was sure. "Who
are you, old man?"

The face chuckled, creasing about
his eyes and mouth, "Why, I am the one who’s been watching over you all
these years. And, oh, how you've always made me laugh, Troi."

Troian noted from the reflection’s
neckline that he wore white robes and a golden stole. Those were signs that
were unmistakable. "You’re an archangel, aren’t you?"

"And what makes you think
that?"

"Those clothes," Troian
narrowed his eyes, "And who else would be powerful enough to project
themselves into the throne room in the third circle?"

"Who else indeed?" the
face smiled back, "I did bring out the good robes, I suppose, but I only
thought it appropriate visiting a demon royal and an heir to the throne at
that. Don’t you agree?"

Though archangels were more
powerful than any being truly knew and meddled infrequently in the affairs of
Heaven or Hell, Troian still felt uneasy at this man’s knowledge. Few even in
his own realm knew of his existence. "I wasn’t aware the choirs had
started recognizing us as anything other than vermin, let alone had taken to
making social calls. What do you want?"

"I see you're having a bit of
trouble," the archangel glanced away absently, "Lost something,
haven't you?"

Troian could feel the heat begin to
boil below his skin and took a tighter grip on the basin.

"Now, now, don't get
testy," the angel held up his hands before him, his fingers adorned in
rings, "I don't want you to blow anything else up."

"How do you know?" Troian
growled through clenched teeth.

"News travels fast," he
shrugged.

The demon was furious, "What
is it that you want?"

"I am here to offer you
peace," he clasped his hands in front of him, "I have found your
sister."

Troian staggered back from the
basin, knocking into the steps and falling back onto them. His sister, Sophie,
she’d been found.

"I see you know what this
means," the angel’s voice floated quietly from the basin and Troian jumped
up, running back to it, "She has, however, fallen into the wrong hands,
and
The Agrippa
has made its way to the Material World as well."

Troian shook his head, "How do
you know all this? Who are you?"

The man bowed his head slightly,
smiled, and alleged, "I am the Archangel Raziel."

"Raziel?" Archangel or
not, the name was renowned in Heaven and Hell. "Why come to see me? You
never see anybody."

Raziel sighed, "I am closely
tied to this book, my boy, and it is in my best interests that the girl and the
book do not come into contact. I have reason to believe that a rogue angel has
kidnapped your sister. His name I fear you know: Adam."

Troian grimaced, "How is that
possible? He was executed!"

"Was he?" Raziel
questioned, "I know it seems ridiculous, I was uncertain of even my own
suspicions, but there has been activity in the Material World that suggests
otherwise."

Troian swore under his breath and
clenched tight fists. "Adam," he growled, the name bitter on his
tongue, "You've torn apart this family enough for one eternity."

Raziel stared solemnly at the boy,
"Do you feel that, Troian? That anger?"

He nodded, unable to find words.

"I want you to use that and help
me, Troi. Help me to destroy Adam and to save your family."

***

Inside, it was much darker. The
front room was small and largely bare. A couch and two chairs faced one another
in its center, and a grouping of candles placed in a tight circle on the floor,
the only light source, shined between them. Some larger piece of furniture,
perhaps a chest, sat in the shadows before the brick hearth at the back of the
room between two archways leading into further darkness.

Sophie stepped in without
hesitation, past the man as he held open the door, the strange markings on his
palms slightly visible, but she could feel Mona linger on the threshold. When
she looked back the two were staring at one another.

"Who are you?" Mona asked
plainly, narrowing her gaze. She was significantly shorter than the man, but
stood her ground, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorway defiantly.

"A friend," he answered
in a tone that would suggest otherwise, "And you?"

"The same."

Sophie spoke absently as she went
back to looking around the room, "She’s my cousin, Mona. And he and I met
at the library," she put it together as the words fell out of her mouth,
an afterthought as she went deeper into the house, inspecting the furniture,
"The paper with the symbols was in the book, but only after...only after
he gave it back to me. We’re here because of him."

Mona was quick to follow up,
"That only proves you’re a meddler, not an ally."

"Oh?" the man cocked his
head, "So you’re her cousin then?"

"Where are we?" Sophie
rounded on them, demanding their attention. Though she’d never been here
before, she had a strong desire to run about and inspect every corner of the
place, feeling as though the action would sate some long-hidden yearning, and
she wanted answers, "Why do I feel like I know this place?" They both
hesitated, casting sidelong glances at one another. Sophie sighed, "Mona,
how did you get us here? Through that...that thing?"

Her cousin opened her mouth then
blew out a long breath. "That thing," she said slowly as if mulling
it over herself, "was a tear in existence. We cut through the physical
world and made a doorway to this place, the Transcendental Plane. Specifically,
this spot. The paper you had, the one he gave you apparently, acted like a map,
an address, and brought us precisely here."

"So what," Sophie
chuckled lightly, "we teleported?"

"Not exactly. We’re not on
Earth anymore." Mona was looking very hard at Sophie, as if studying her,
waiting for something.

"Another planet?"

Mona shook her head, "Earth,
other planets, the whole universe," she made a pained expression,
"that’s the physical world and a different plane of existence than where
we are. Think of it like stories in a building only without any stairs or
elevators. You can’t go down, and no one can come up. Not without punching a
hole in the floor, at least."

Sophie took a few steps back and
eased down onto the couch. She stared into the light of the candles and tried
to think about what she’d been told, but complete thoughts refused to form.
Instead, she moved on to the man, "You—who are you?" Mona turned to
him with an eager sort of look as well.

He bit his lip and looked down so
his rusty hair fell in his eyes, "I’m Adam." There was something
there. Something in that name that made Sophie peer a bit more deeply at him.
He looked up cautiously, his light eyes searching her face, "I’m here to
help protect you."

"Oh." She didn’t
particularly want to ask from what she needed protecting. Instead, she looked
off toward the darker parts of the house.

"Are you okay?" Adam
ventured quietly.

She nodded, "I just need a
minute."

As Sophie stared off at the
shadowed fireplace, she heard Mona drop her voice to a whisper and questioned
Adam, "Who sent you?"

"No one," he replied,
equally low.

Sophie listened to them grumble at
one another haphazardly as she picked up one of the candles from the floor and
got up from the couch, going to the object that stood by the fireplace. It was
larger than she’d realized, at least six feet long, and came up to her knees.
The light she held danced across its uneven surface, a sort of glassy crystal
that came to many points, like dozens of jewels layered atop one another.
Mostly shades of blue, she could see something darker beneath its jagged
surface and knelt beside it, gently placing a hand against the crystal. It was
warm.

Sophie gasped—a body! A
chalk-white-skinned woman lay encapsulated in the massive gem. And she
recognized her.

"Is that what I think it
is?" Mona’s voice questioned, and Sophie turned to see them standing over
her.

Adam nodded, "Yes."

"So that means you’re—"

"No," he was quick to
stop her, "Well, kind of. It’s complicated."

The woman in the box was paler, if
that were possible, and pink scars ran down her neck, but it was her. Her eyes
were closed, but she knew they would be a pale gray when opened. She was the
girl from the street that night, the one she had inadvertently called Verrine.

Sophie's heart immediately sank,
"Is she...dead?" The word forced itself out, bitter on her tongue.

"No," Adam said, and she
felt instant relief, "But she cannot wake like this."

"What happened to her?"
When last Sophie had seen the girl, she was energetic even if she had been
frightening.

"She’s been brutally attacked.
When I found her she was near death, and I did all I could."

"Attacked?" Sophie leaned
down to examine her long scars through the distortion of the crystal, "By
what? There aren't any wild animals in the city, or at least, nothing that can
do that."

"Those are from no wild
animal," his voice dropped down, "Animal is much too nice a term for
them. That's the work of a strigori."

Mona cleared her throat loudly at
his comment, but Sophie continued to stare at the girl in the glass box. The
word, strigori, was as foreign to her as this eerie, misty place, but for a
moment all of that fell away and only the girl mattered. She’d wanted Sophie to
go away with her. Perhaps if she had, this wouldn’t have happened. The girl
who, as she thought back on their encounter, now seemed sweet and concerned
only for Sophie’s wellbeing, would not be in danger of dying if she’d just
listened.

Sophie stood from the floor and
turned to the others, anger and guilt swimming in the pit of her stomach.
"How can we help her?"

"Well," Adam scratched
his head, ruffling his coppery hair, "she was too weak to fight off the
venom which is why I encapsulated her. Her body isn’t susceptible to further
poisoning like this, she’s been suspended out of time, but I need the antivenom
if there’s any hope in healing her, and there’s only one place I know to get it.
I’ve been trying to work out how to, but it will be incredibly difficult."

"Well, you’ve got us to help
now, so where are we going?"

Mona’s eyes widened at Sophie’s
offer, but she said nothing. The man shook his head, "It’s too
dangerous."

"I think we can decide that
for ourselves," Sophie perched back on the edge of the couch and looked up
at him expectantly, but as she leaned forward to replace the candle on the
ground, she winced.

He quickly knelt in front of her,
"Are you hurt?"

"It’s nothing," the pain
had lulled into a constant nagging in her shoulders, and she had done her best
to ignore it, "It’s going away."

"She
is
hurt,"
Mona sat on the couch beside her and made her turn her back to Adam, lifting
her shirt and exposing her shoulders, "It...started."

Sophie heard Adam take in a quick
breath then sigh, "But it stopped."

Pulling her shirt down forcefully,
Sophie turned back, "What? What’s happening?"

But her question was run over by
Mona, "We weren’t sure if it would take. It might have if we hadn’t come
here, but I think the plane stopped it."

"Who is
we
?" Adam raised
his voice as he glared at her cousin, "And what did you do?"