Sons of Angels (27 page)

The imp took the sweet. “Up yer bum.”

Felicia grinned and headed toward the kitchen. Through the open door she could see Harold sat at the table, talking.

“I don’t know.” His hands were clasped around a mug, the fingertips almost white. “I suppose I’m not really evil enough yet. I don’t deserve to be the son of Lucifer.”

“Of course you do.” Jasfoup’s voice rang from the direction of the kettle. “Lucifer knew what he was doing when he shacked up with your mum. Hell needs new blood now and then, if you’ll pardon the expression. I mean, think about this security system you installed. We’d never have thought of that on our own. You’ve taken the ideas of two separate cultures and mixed them into a blend of techno-wizardry. It’s impressive.” He appeared at the door carrying three mugs. “Felicia? Do you want tea? I can put it in a bowl if you like.”

Harold grinned at his back. “Be nice, Jasfoup. She doesn’t know you well enough to see you’re joking.”

“I was being nice.” The demon pushed open the office door. “Morning, John. Nice dress.”

Felicia went in. The third imp was dressed in a long sheath of tiny brass links.

John stood and did a twirl. “You do? Thanks. I got the material for it on Camden market and spent the night sewing it up.”

“Very retro.” Harold held his paw in a mock waltz “You’d be a hit at the social club disco.”

John grinned. “You call it retro, I call it avant garde. Hell still thinks chain mail is sexy.”

Harold’s eyebrows rose. “Isn’t it? I usually see it on half-naked ladies, and it always looks sexy to me.”

“Try looking at it on a spider-legged minion. It’ll really give you the get-up-and-go.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Not after you’ve gone, no.” John grinned. “I’ll see what people think when I go for cocktail hour.”

Felicia nestled into a straight-backed chair. “I didn’t know you had cocktails in Hell.”

“Oh yes.” John perched on top of the photocopier. “Cock tails, cat feet, rat noses. You name it. We have it all.”

Felicia shuddered “You certainly live the high life.”

“High life. Low life. There isn’t a party in Hell I’m not invited to.”

Harold pinched his lips. “How well do you know your way around Hell?”

The imp considered it. “Pretty well. Most imps can get anywhere from anywhere else instinctively but I’ve actually been to most areas.”

“What about the Land of the Dead?”

John shrugged. “No parties over there. It’s a bit of a no-go area for those of a demonic persuasion.”

“Why’s that? Are there angels there?”

“No.” John dropped back to the floor. “It’s because they’re a bunch of stuck-up buggers.”

Jasfoup laughed. “It’s not our jurisdiction, anyway. It’s mixed pantheon.”

“Meaning anyone could end up there?”

John nodded. “Non-Christians, anyway.”

Felicia took a sip of her tea. “What was this break in? Jasfoup couldn’t give me any details.”

Harold shrugged. “They tried to get in through the back.”

“What happened to them?”

The demon grinned. “Let’s just say Gillian won’t go hungry tonight.”

Harold shifted to face Jasfoup. “I know the angels have ranks and choirs and what have you, and demons have their pits and circles and armies, but what do nephilim have? We seem to be out on a limb and forsaken by both sides.”

“Sucks, doesn't it? That's what you get for being abominations.”

“Why are we though? Whatever our parentage, we’re free-willed beings with souls. We’re the descendants of angels. Why don’t we have any organization? Do we even have a leader? Someone to be concerned about the killings?”

“I suppose there is. Azazel, Lord of Artifice. Technically, he’s the duke of War so devils, and by extension nephilim, are his concern.”

“Send him an invitation, would you? If we’re up against angels, I want all the back-up I can get.” Harold leaned back and put his feet on the desk.

“No.” Jasfoup leaned forward. “You can’t precipitate a war between Heaven and Hell. Both sides like the status quo. If someone’s killing off nephilim, it’s not to precipitate a war.”

Felicia shook her head. “It’s an angel doing the killing. I fought him, remember? It wouldn’t be us starting the war.”

“I know. It doesn’t make sense.” Jasfoup massaged his temples. “We’re missing some pieces of the jigsaw puzzle.”

Harold grinned. “To extend the metaphor, why don’t you just hammer in a piece from a different box? It’s what you usually do.”

“Oh, har-de-har.” Jasfoup frowned, tapping his cheek with an elegant finger. “Actually, that’s not such a bad idea.”

“Give me some more edges. Why aren’t there thousands of these nephilim?”

“I told you that. After the flood they went into hiding. They don’t want to incur His wrath again.”

“No, they stopped making giants and eating people so God wouldn’t notice they were here.” Harold, lost in thought, chewed his fingernails. “So why now? Why send an angel to kill them off one by one?”

“I don’t know, Harold. Perhaps it’s a sanctioned cull we weren’t aware of. Maybe it’s Hell on a recruitment drive. It’s a dangerous a world for nephilim, that’s why they grow up so fast once they’ve been quickened into their true nature.”

Harold frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jasfoup looked at him. “Think about it. You’re the main predator in a world of intelligent prey. Are you going to hang about for twenty years whilst your offspring is vulnerable to attack? No, of course not. You’re going to want your baby to take care of itself. Nephilim can mature in a matter of hours, absorbing the knowledge of their parents to become fully cognizant adults as fast as possible. In just the same way, you can’t have a pregnant woman carrying a nephilim for nine months, since any mortal who got wind of it would kill it immediately. Gestation is accelerated as well, down from nine months to a few days.”

“Is it really?” Harold tapped the table. “Gillian and I could never have a baby because of the gestation period. If it can be reduced to a few days it could be reduced to hours. It would be possible for a vampire to have a child.”

“I suppose so.” Jasfoup sounded doubtful. “I can think of a few flaws in your idea, though.”

“Like what?” Harold looked at him.

Jasfoup shifted under his gaze. “Firstly, you’d have to reduce the gestation period to a single night.”

Harold nodded. “I could arrange that. I’ve seen spells to accelerate time in a localized area.”

“If so, then why didn’t the grigori use it?”

Harold stuck out his tongue. “Because such spells are dark magic. Not even a Fallen angel could combine the two. I could, because I’m a product of three different planes. Mum was from Faery, remember? Their gestation is fast, too, so mine will be. Combine that with a nephilim’s gestation, and we’d be there.”

Jasfoup nodded thoughtfully. “You have a good point. It could work, apart from one more problem.”

Harold grinned. “Lay it on me.”

Jasfoup took hold of his hand, his deep red eyes boring into Harold’s. “Gillian’s undead, Harold. She’s a lifeless corpse during the day. Her womb will have atrophied.”

“Ah.” Harold face fell.

“Doesn’t Gillian get a say in this?” Felicia had sat silently all this time but here was something on which she could give input. “Does she want to have a baby?”

“Doesn’t every woman?” Jasfoup patted her. “Don’t you want puppies some day?”

Chapter 30

It was after dusk when they got back to the manor and later still by the time Felicia managed to get a coffee brewed with Harold’s ancient kitchen equipment. “You need to buy a half-decent coffee machine.”

“Instant has always suited my purposes.” Harold nudged her aside to claim first rights to the boiling kettle. He could be lethal with the sharp end of a teapot. “Tea, Jasfoup?”

“Actually, I'll take a coffee.” He winked at Felicia. “I may be inclined to take tea in the general course of the day but I was raised in Florence, remember.”

“It’s your prerogative.” Harold retreated to the far side of the kitchen to sit at the table. “Tea makes you feel alive.”

“I feel alive.” Felicia maneuvered around the demon to get at the coffee. “When Jenna infected me I wanted to die rather than become a werewolf. Now I’m growing used to it. I feel a thousand times more alive than I used to.”

“And you look better too.” The demon patted her shoulder. “Still not attractive, mind.”

“How can we stop this? How can we make these angels leave us alone?”

“I don’t know.” Jasfoup rooted through the cupboards and pulled out a packet of chocolate biscuits. “If all they want to do is kill off as many nephilim as they can, I don’t see a solution.”

“I heard a but there.” Felicia went to the kitchen door. “Julie? There’s coffee made if you want one.” She sat at the table.

Jasfoup took the seat opposite and stared at the foam on top of his cup. “But.” He looked into her eyes. “The
but
is, if they’re looking for something specific.”

“Such as?” Felicia’s first sip gave her a milk-foam moustache.

“One of the lost tribe of giants.” Jasfoup turned his coffee cup so Felicia could see the distinct shape of a dragon in the foam. “Or him.”

Felicia sprayed mocha through her nose. “You can’t be serious.” She alternated between fits of coughing and laughter. “A dragon? You have got to be kidding me.”

Jasfoup looked affronted but offered a handkerchief. “I most certainly am not. Why do you think they call Lucifer ‘The Dragon’?”

“Because he’s a big, winged, scaly beast?” Felicia wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

“He is, but that’s not why he got the name.” Jasfoup leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “He got the name from shagging in lizard form, way back when the earth was young. While other angels made human nephilim, he made lizard ones.”

“That’s disgusting.” Julie stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame. “I came in to see what the noise was about and get treated to that sordid tale. No wonder there’s a rule against bestiality.”

“That wasn’t because of Lucifer.” Jasfoup pushed out a seat for her. “That was all Adam’s doing. God made that law up to stop Adam copulating with everything that came his way and pay a bit more attention to Eve.”

Julie sat, sending Wrack to pour her coffee. “Men will shag anything.”

“He didn’t know any better. This was before Eve ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge.”

“She didn’t have to eat it.”

“Of course she did. Wouldn’t you, if someone offered you all the secrets of the world?”

“I suppose.” Julie hesitated. “God told them not to, though...”

“Yes.” Jasfoup opened the biscuits. “All kids do what their parents tell them, don’t they? I remember Ada telling Harold not to eat the Christmas tree lights but did he listen?”

“He was a child, surely?” Felicia took a biscuit, surprised they hadn’t begun to melt. “You can’t expect a child to contemplate consequences.”

“True. Ignoring the example of Harold, who was thirty at the time, Adam and Eve were like children themselves.”
 

“Without the fruit, they didn’t know right from wrong. Do children expect parents to throw them out for misbehavior?”

“I see your point.” Julie held out her hand for another biscuit. “What has this got to do with dragons?”

“Technically they’re nephilim. What if the angels are here because there’s a dragon about?”

“So what?” Felicia stirred the foam into her coffee. “A dragon wouldn’t stand a chance in the modern world. Not against jet aircraft and guided missiles.”

“It’s not the dragon itself. It’s what it represents.”

“And what’s that?”

“The apocalypse.”

Chapter 31