Los Nefilim Book 4 (8 page)

 

Chapter Six

“O
h, Diago, I've always known you were one of us,” Moloch crooned again. His gaze was locked on the golem. A string of drool hung from his lower lip.

“I am nothing like you,” Diago said.

“Oh, but you are.” Moloch tilted his head and squinted at the golem. “And for that reason, I do not trust you.”

Fortunately, the golem chose that moment to move. It murmured against Diago's shoulder. “I am your brave child. I love you.”

Diago shushed the golem and attempted to summon an expression of parental concern. Instead, he feared he showed nothing but disgust. He covered his bad acting with chatter. “Look at the child. He is suffering. Let's make this deal and be done.”

The daimon only smiled.

What is he waiting for?
“Do you really believe I would try to trick you? Do you think I'm suicidal?” Diago gestured to the
‘aulaqs
. “I'm outnumbered. They're faster than me. I'd never make it back to Miquel.” He shook his head and managed a conciliatory tone. “Stop playing games, Moloch. Give me Prieto's coin and take your place. I will see to the rest.”

Moloch touched the small leather sack he wore around his neck on a thin piece of leather. “You'll hand this death machine over to Prieto?”

“He holds Miquel hostage.”

“You'll trade your son for your lover?” Moloch rubbed his palms. His long nails scraped together. The sound reminded Diago of roaches clicking across a floor. “Betray one to keep the other? No. This is too easy. I don't trust you, Diago.”

The feeling was mutual. Something was wrong. Moloch was too confident.

Where
is
that missing ‘aulaq?
Concerned that Moloch might mistake vigilance for fear, Diago didn't survey the floor. He held Moloch's glare with his own.

Centuries of hiding his homosexuality from others helped him knuckle down on his emotions. Diago knew the rules:
Never let them taste your fear. Never let them know you're different.
­People saw what they wanted to see and heard what they wanted hear. They made assumptions based on their personal beliefs, which often blinded them to the truth. Daimons were not unlike mortals in this respect. All Diago had to do was give Moloch the ritual words, and then let the daimon's mind do the rest.

“I am the father of Rafael Díaz de Triana,” Diago said. “And as his parent, I vouch for this sacrifice in order to gain peace for our ­people. The parent guarantees the child, Moloch. Those are your rules.”

“Any blood relative can give the child.”

“I have no blood relatives in this life.”

“Yes, you do.” The daimon exuded triumph.

Beneath Diago's feet, the walkway quivered as someone mounted the platform behind him. His heart hammered. He tightened his grip on the golem and felt something brittle puncture his palm.
The sticks.
Jesus, he had to be careful or he would break the thing apart. He loosened his hold on the creature and affected a calmness he didn't feel.

Diago turned to face whatever horror Moloch had summoned. He wasn't surprised when the third
‘aulaq
finally arrived. But he still didn't know what the daimon had in mind.

The vampire crept forward until only a ­couple of meters separated them. He narrowed his eyes at Diago, but his words were directed at Moloch. “You promised me, Moloch. You swore he'd never know what happened to me.”

“No, Alvaro.” There was no mistaking the glee in Moloch's voice. “That is what you
wanted
to hear. I only swore that he would never seek you out.”

Alvaro.
His surname of Alvarez was the only clue Diago ever possessed about his father's name. Alvarez meant the son of Alvaro.

His son. . .

“No,” Diago said. The smoke crawled into his throat and threatened to choke him. “I'll not be the butt of your jokes, Moloch. This is a lie.”

“Look closely, Diago,” said Moloch. “Look very closely, and tell me it's a lie.”

The vampire didn't flinch away from Diago's examination. They bore no resemblance to one another, or none that Diago could see. Moloch had twisted the
‘aulaq's
flesh into a parody of humanity. Only the dark green eyes retained the slightest hint of mortality . . . and something more. In those irises, Diago thought he glimpsed the same strange lights that illuminated his own gaze. His blood turned to ice.

Jesus, his eyes—­they are like mine.

“This is the truth, Diago.” Moloch cackled, high and thin, like nails on glass.

Alvaro took a step forward, and Diago backed away before he caught himself and stopped. He glanced over his shoulder and gauged the distance between him and Moloch. They were less than fifteen paces apart. Flight was impossible. Diago had nowhere to go. He faced Alvaro again and he saw the truth in the
‘aulaq's
face. Alvaro was his father.

Stunned, he almost strangled on the questions he wanted to ask. There were too many.
Why did you do this yourself?
was one he kept coming back to. And deep inside his heart, the child within him cried,
Why did you leave me?
But Diago locked those words behind his teeth. He wouldn't show either Alvaro or Moloch his vulnerability. Not here. Not now. All he could push through his lips was, “Why?”

Alvaro gripped the railings on either side of the walkway, his knuckles white and hard. “Because I couldn't stand to watch you suffer anymore.”

Diago scoffed. “Me?”

“Yes. You. I know what they did to you in your firstborn life.”

Diago shook his head. “No. The past is dead. Leave it in its grave.”

Alvaro had no intention of doing so. He advanced slowly, as if he approached a dangerous animal. “You can deny the truth all you like, but the angels, the daimons, Solomon—­they all destroyed the good inside of you. They cursed you, Diago! Every incarnation after your firstborn life was a misery.” He spoke haltingly at first, but as he articulated his grief, his words grew like a terrible flower and bloomed with his wrath. “You fought the world, and you fought alone, full of helpless rage. You forgot how to love. I stayed by your side as long as I could. Call me a coward if you like, but the day came when I knew I couldn't bear to watch you go through another life in such sorrow.”

“So you just walked away.” Diago flung the words like a blow.

Shame flushed Alvaro's cheeks until they were as ruddy as the effigy's flames. “Why should I continue to suffer when you refused to change?”

Diago couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You abandoned me, and that is
my
fault?”

Alvaro stopped in front of Diago. His gaze flickered from the golem back to Diago. “How dare you judge me!” He spat on the ground. “Look at yourself, Diago. Nothing's changed. You're going sacrifice your child. And for what? Your lover? Your happiness?” Alvaro snorted in derision. “We are the same. Look at me and see your future.”

“I will never be like you.” He wanted to wipe Alvaro's smugness into Moloch's fires, but he knew he couldn't say a word without destroying both Miquel and Rafael.

Alvaro held his arms out. “Give me the child. You're not worthy of him.”

Diago hesitated. What would Alvaro do when he discovered the golem wasn't Rafael? If he really reviled Diago for offering his son as a sacrifice, he might play along with the deception. Maybe. Could he even disobey the daimon? Diago couldn't take the chance.

“The boy is mine,” he said as he whirled on Moloch. “Trust me or not, Moloch.”

“I choose not. Give him to Alvaro. If Alvaro says the child is true, I'll give you the pouch. Then you can go. Alvaro can make the offering in your stead. At least he is a true child of the daimons, unsullied by angel.”

The golem whined. Diago shushed the creature and turned back to his father. He had no choice. If he lingered here much longer, he would never make it back in time to Rafael and Miquel.

As he passed the golem into Alvaro's arms, he met his father's gaze and said, “I learned to love.” It was the only defense he had.

Alvaro sneered. He cuddled the golem and muttered reassurances to it as he measured its dull gaze. Alvaro's motions slowed. Comprehension slowly morphed over his features. He ducked his head so Moloch couldn't see and whispered to Diago, “I misjudged you. And I am glad.”

Relief washed over Diago. He might save Rafael, after all. He gave no indication that Alvaro had spoken, had no idea what he would say if he could've answered without Moloch hearing his words.

Moloch's voice shattered the moment. “Is the child true, Alvaro?”

Alvaro nestled the golem into the crook of his arm. “The child is genuine.” Fury returned to sparkle in his eyes as he glared at Diago. “You are dead to me.”

Diago made no sign the words meant anything to him one way or another. His father's curse was meant for Moloch, not him. Alvaro had chosen to shield his family over servitude to the daimon. They both knew that Alvaro wouldn't live to see another nightfall. Whatever else his faults, Alvaro had just attempted to save his grandson's life. Whether they actually made it out of the tunnels alive was now up to Diago.

He held out his hand. “The coin, Moloch.”

Moloch lifted the pouch over his head and threw it to Diago. He caught it neatly and opened the bag. Inside, a silver medallion rested at the bottom of the pouch. White light spun and flashed brilliantly in the center of the coin before it dimmed. Diago closed the pouch and clenched the prize in his hand.

“Run, coward,” said Alvaro as Diago passed him. “Run fast.”

Diago took his father's warning to heart. When Moloch discovered he'd been cheated, they would come for Diago next. He wouldn't let his father's martyrdom be in vain.

The golem reached out for Diago as he passed. “I love you.” It sounded so much like Rafael, Diago almost went back. “I am your brave child,” cried the golem. “I am brave, Papa.”

Diago ran.

The golem's shouts grew panicked as it called after him. “Papa! I love you! Kiss me! Papa! Can I live with you? Do you promise? Do you promise?
Kiss-­me-­I-­love-­you!
”

Diago clattered down the stairs and almost fell when his foot hit the concrete.
Too much blood. We used too much blood, and now it has taken a will of its own and doesn't want to die.

“
IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIlove . . .”
Moloch took up the golem's cries, and the horrible duet echoed off the walls of the daimon's chamber.

Diago fled from that sound, across the massive room and back into the passageway. After he was around the first bend and well away from Moloch's lair, he ducked into an alcove and opened the pouch with a shaking hand. He spilled Prieto's coin into his palm and thought the angel's designation of “coin” was highly inappropriate. The medallion was far too heavy to be a modern coin. Another bright flash radiated from its center before dimming back to a dull silver color. Diago closed his hand over the coin and searched his pockets.

All he had were two
pesetas
and a few
centimos,
each of which were too small. Sick with despair, he reached deeper until his fingers touched the magnifying glass. The circumference of the brass case was a little large, but the weight of it was close to Prieto's coin. It would have to do. He had nothing else. Diago transferred the coin to his pocket and placed the magnifying glass in the pouch.

He clenched the pouch in his right hand and resumed his flight. The walls blurred as the tunnel narrowed again. He summoned the Nefilim's speed, alert to the sounds behind him. The daimon's mimicry had stopped, and silence pervaded the darkness.

The smooth floor gave way to the sewer's trough. Diago found the concrete walkway that led back to the subway station. Overhead, the lights winked out one by one as he passed beneath them. A hitch formed in his side. He ignored the pain and didn't slow.

Over the pounding of the machinery, Moloch's enraged howl suddenly filled the tunnels. The sound ricocheted off the walls and seemed to envelope Diago in its wrath.

Moloch had discovered their deception. He yowled at the remaining
‘aulaqs,
and while the distance obscured his words, the intent was clear: they were coming, and they were furious.

Diago drew his knife. Terror lent him speed. If he could make it to the door, he could slam it shut and bolt it—­if there was a bolt, that is. He desperately tried to remember if there was one. He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing but darkness bled behind him.

The lights overhead flickered and dimmed.

And if they go out, I will drown in the dark.
A sob crawled into his throat. He swallowed it and rushed onward. The time for self-­pity was long gone.

The passage curved hard to the left. Diago slowed and took the turn at half speed. Meters away, the two tunnels joined together. The little footbridge was just beyond the juncture. Past the footbridge, Diago saw the door that led to the station. With sanctuary in sight, his hope surged. He summoned the last of his energy and sprinted for the door.

At the junction of the two tunnels, the scarred male emerged from the second passage. He slammed against Diago and caught him midstride. Diago was still moving when they hit the wall together in a tangled mass of limbs.

Searing pain lanced Diago's hip and shoulder. Tumbling into the sewage, they slid through the muck, neither of them able to gain an advantage. Diago clutched the pouch in one hand. With his left, he slashed wildly with his knife and caught the
‘aulaq's
eye with the tip. The vampire screeched and fell backward.

Diago kicked the
‘aulaq
in the face. His heel caught the vampire in the mouth. The move won him a brief respite. Diago didn't waste it.