Sons of Angels (16 page)

“But you are nephilim.” Taliel pressed her shoulder. “It just needed the catalyst to propel you to your destiny as members of your clans.”

Felicia grimaced. “Is that why I was bitten?”

“I imagine so.” Taliel shifted form into a woman and back again. “You were nephilim, but a blank canvas with the potential to be any of the six clans.”

Felicia gave a bark of laughter. “Why did I get the werewolf gene? I’d have rather be a magician like Harold.”

“What about me?” Julie reached for Felicia’s hand. “I’d rather have sight than hear the Others.”

“Your grandmother gave you clairaudience deliberately.” Taliel reached out to squeeze her hand. “When you lost your eyesight she gave you the gift, hoping it would compensate you for the loss. She never knew you’d be perceived as mad.”

“I kept telling everyone I wasn’t. I just couldn’t see who I was talking to until Wrack turned up.”

“Sorry. I never thought...” Jasfoup reached across and touched her eyes.

“I can see!” Julie stumbled backward. “Sort of, anyway. I can see all of you but everything else is blurry.”

“What?” Felicia frowned at her sister then looked back at Jasfoup. “I don't understand. What did you do?”

The demon shrugged. “I gave her the Sight. She can see the supernatural world with it, but mot the mundane. She can see all of us, but not the brick wall she's about to–” He winced, “–run into.”

“This is amazing.” Julie rubbed her forehead. “Why didn't anyone tell me this was possible? Felicia! You look fantastic.”

“So do you.” Julie's smile infected her sister and they both hugged.

“If we can return to the matter in hand?” Gillian looked across and licked her lips. “What do we do? How do we stop an angel trying to kill us?”

Taliel shrugged. “You can’t. You can’t kill an immortal being. Your best hope is to stay hidden.”

“That patently isn’t an option.” Gillian uncoiled from her place on the sofa. “One found us last night.”

“Then you have to find a bargaining chip. You have to discover what they really want and make them an offer.”

“Excellent!” Harold rubbed his hands. “Negotiation is my business.”

Chapter 17

Felicia woke on the kitchen sofa, the room empty and a cold coffee on the table. Her watch said six-ten, only three hours since Taliel had spoken about nephilim. In the light of day it all seemed far-fetched. She knitted her fingers and stretched, arms over her head, back arched and toes pointed. There was a crack as her spine realigned. Sleeping in a curled position didn’t agree with her at all.

One of the imps sat on the table, surrounded by chocolate stars, the empty box discarded on the floor. “Wotcha.”

By its size and color Felicia could tell it was her sister’s companion. She clapped it on the back. “Hello, Wrack. Where is everyone?”

He chewed on a star, his head at an angle. “Julie’s asleep upstairs. So is the man, but not in the same room. The angel left hours ago and the demon is outside.” He picked up another star.

“What about Gillian?”

Wrack grinned. “You’re not very bright, are you? It’s daylight.”

“Oh, right.” Felicia felt like kicking herself and looked in the cupboards. “I need a coffee.”

“You can’t order me about. I’m not indentured to you.” He crunched the cereal with his mouth open. Felicia winced.

“I was making conversation, not giving an order.” She found a pot of instant and switched the kettle on.

She took her coffee outside, studying the towers and pinnacles of the manor. Her life had changed dramatically. This time yesterday she had a life of her own, an irritating but very much alive mother and nobody trying to kill her. Now she was a monster, her mother was dead and angels were hunting her. She wished she could just have a good cry.

Over the birdsong from the adjacent woodland, she could hear the bells of St. Pity’s church summoning the faithful to prime. She stared at the spire she could just see between the trees and wondered if she’d be welcome. If it was true werewolves were descended from a race of creatures designed by God to destroy the moon-based religions prevalent in biblical times, then she must have a spark of angel inside her.

“The answer’s no.” Jasfoup sat on a bench surrounded by herbs.

“The answer to what?” Felicia could see a ghostly Jack Russell ferreting about in the garden, a large thin cat watching it from a shed roof.

“To whether you’d be welcome in church.” Jasfoup folded the paper. “You were listening to the bells.”

Felicia nodded and sipped her coffee. The jar had been well past its expiry date and it showed in the taste. “Why wouldn’t I be welcome? Because I’m Changed?”

“Yes.” Jasfoup leaned down and rubbed rosemary between his fingers. “They can sense you’re different. They’ll turn on you.”

“But I’m Christian, or was, anyway.”

Jasfoup shook his head. “Not anymore. Once you deviate from the dogma you’re a heretic.” He grinned. “I’d say werewolves were a big deviation.”

Felicia laughed. “I didn’t ask to be a werewolf.” She watched the cat watching the dog.

Jasfoup followed her gaze and smiled. “He’s happy enough for the time being. One day he’ll move on.”

Felicia looked at the suave demon, who picked up a cup of tea and held it in cupped hands as if the bright May morning were the depths of winter. “Won’t we all?” She sat on the bench next to him. “There were bits of conversation last night I didn’t really grasp.”

“Oh?” Jasfoup sat next to her and clicked his fingers. “Which bits?” A doorway opened in mid air and Devious poke his head out. Jasfoup handed him the mug. “More tea.” He turned to Felicia. “Do you want a fresh one?”

Felicia glanced at her almost full cup and shook her head. “Not for me, thanks.”

The demon nodded to the imp, who closed the door, appearing moments later with a fresh cup.

Felicia raised her eyebrows. “That was quick. Faster than the kettle could boil.”

Jasfoup shrugged. “What were you having a problem with?”

Felicia raised her hands to encompass the world. “All of it. It sounds like so much mumbo-jumbo, all tied up in dogma.”

“I can’t help you with dogma. I’m more of a cat person myself.” Jasfoup grinned. “There’s something very big going down here.” He nodded toward the morning edition of The Laverstone Times. “Have a look in there and tell me what you think.”

Felicia put her coffee down and opened up the broadsheet.

Mysterious fire breaks out.

A fire broke out last night at the home of Jonathan Metcalfe, 37, an accountant with the firm Bingley and Hobbs. The fire swept quickly through the three-story town house on Trevor Place, destroying everything inside and leaving almost no remains. Curiously, the houses on either side of the residence were unaffected.

Miss Jennifer Atley, fiancee of the deceased, was shocked. “Jonathan was a very private man who worked hard all his life,” she told reporters. “I can’t believe he has died in such a bizarre fashion. He was a charming entrepreneur and liked by everyone.”

Police and fire service officials have set up an incident room near the site, and urge anyone who might have information to come forward.

Felicia lowered the paper. “That sounds familiar. At least there were no children involved. Another nephilim?”

Jasfoup nodded. “I’d bet on it.”

“Tell me who the nephilim are again? I thought they were the children of Lilith?”

“No, you’re thinking of the Wretched,” Jasfoup pulled a cooked tuna from his jacket pocket. “The nephilim are the children of the grigori.”

Felicia frowned at the huge fish, torn between being disgusted and wanting to eat it, then being disgusted for wanting to eat it.

Cats appeared from all sides of the garden. “The grigori are part of the heavenly host but closer to man than to angel. They were the holders of knowledge, sent to earth to teach the children of Adam and Eve all the skills they needed to survive.”

He threw a chunk of fish to the first cat, which carried it away, growling at the others. “Now, they taught the mortals all manner of things–hunting, fishing, weaving and so on, but they were enjoying themselves so much that they went on to teach the sciences.”

“What was wrong with that?” She gestured toward the fish. “Can I throw them a bit?”

“Sure.” Jasfoup handed her a large handful of fish. “Anyway, the grigori taught man the forbidden arts. Astronomy, divination, herbalism and sorcery–subjects which had been specifically forbidden by God. You can probably guess His reaction to that.”

“Yes. Then what? Did they become demons?”

“This was before the Fall, so they were banished to the earth and became the earthbound. Taliel must be one of them, though I couldn’t find any reference to him except a minor entry in the Lesser Key of Solomon. What really screwed them was, they also taught the arts of cosmetics and seduction then fell in love with the mortals. Wait a minute.”

Jasfoup held out his hand and a copy of the Bible appeared. He flipped through a few of the pages, and marked a passage with his finger.

“Here it is,” he said. “Genesis six, verses two to four, where the angels take human wives.”

Felicia raised her eyebrows. “A bunch of angels shagging the mortals? They didn’t tell us that bit in Sunday school.”

“Why would they? What’s the point of indoctrination if you’re going to give both sides of the story? Most religions gloss over all this and concentrate of the really bad bit–the New Testament.”

“I thought that was the good bit? ‘Peace and love and goodwill to men’?” Felicia put her cup down.

Jasfoup’s lack of laughter surprised her. “Don’t forget the invention of selection criteria for admittance to Heaven, the promise of a carrot and the threat of a stick and the whole concept of an eternity of torment. Up until that point, if you didn’t go to Heaven you went to Sheol, which was just like Earth but without the politics.”

“So where do the nephilim come in?” Felicia threw pieces of fish to the cats, wondering if the smell would ever come off her hands. “Were they the offspring of the grigori and the mortals?”

Jasfoup beamed. “Exactly.” He threw the rest of the fish. “They were a race of giants, supposedly up to a thousand feet tall, though that’s stretching the truth considerably. Every land has its legends of the giants, from the Cyclops of Greece to the demigods of the Romans. They were all nephilim, and Him upstairs didn’t like them interfering with what he viewed as His creation.”

“Why? What was so wrong about half-angels?”

“The nephilim were so powerful that they treated the mortals like cattle, and were in the habit of eating them.”

“Ah. Vampires.”

Jasfoup bobbed his head upward. “
Tch
! No. Not vampires. Vampires are the descendants of Cain, remember? God cursed Cain to never see the sun again, and from him all vampires come.”

Felicia nodded and looked for something on which to wipe her hands. “Sorry. It does all get a little confusing.”

“It comes of being the great tempter. If you stick cheese in a mouse cage, you shouldn’t be surprised when the mice eat it.”

“I’ve never kept mice.”

Jasfoup waved a hand irritably. “I know. Don’t you recognize a metaphor when one slaps you in the face with a wet fish? I was referring to Adam and Eve in the Garden.”

“So Gillian is descended from Cain?”

“Yes. When Cain killed Abel, God cursed him and made him a nightwalker. All vampires are descended from him.”

“What about werewolves?”

“That’s a good question.” Jasfoup smiled. “Werewolves are nephilim too. He–” Jasfoup pointed upward. “–sanctioned their creation to destroy the Dianic moon cults of the time. They evolved into the Neurians, a tribe which neighbored the Scythians, north-west of the Black Sea.”

“It doesn’t mention werewolves in the bible, though,” said Felicia.

Jasfoup picked up the book again. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He found the relevant passage. “Leviticus chapter twenty-six, verse twenty-two relates how ‘wild beasts’ are sent to wreak havoc, and here,” Jasfoup flicked through again. “In Deuteronomy thirty-two, He sends ‘men with the teeth of beasts.’ And, finally, in the New Testament, Matthew, chapter seven, verse fifteen, tells of men who are ravening wolves on the inside.” He put the book down. “See?”