The Nephilim (3 page)

It was the last he thought that was the nub of it. While the angels spoke about free will and faith being the right of those who didn't know and weren't of their blood, in the end they simply couldn't understand how their own kin could not be like them. How they could fail to live up to their standards. As if blood was enough to determine how they should live and act.

“At least there are only two rules. Not a lot to remember. Number one, we can't use our gifts to harm others in any way. And remember that the angels watch us just in case we do. That's why you're here by the way. Cassie was watching you and you did something to break that rule.”

He knew it wasn't going to be the other rule that she'd broken. Almost no one ever did. Not because they knew it was a rule, but because they could guess what the consequences would be.

“And the second?”

“That the normals never find out about us. About what we can do.”

The reason for that was slightly different. While he and the other nephilim didn't want the normals to know about them because they feared the consequences, the Choir didn't care about that. They were opposed because they believed that the knowledge of the nephilim and the Choir would deny the normals the chance to choose their path in life freely. If the evidence of God's works was standing in front of then there would no longer be a need for faith.  After all, the argument went, faith was based on believing in something without there being enough evidence to prove or disprove it.

Garrick got no response to his words as the girl instead stared blankly back at him. Maybe she was considering what he'd said. Quite probably she was just wondering if he was mad. Garrick didn't know which, and quite frankly he didn't care. Her arrival had made his coming day complicated. And he'd had a busy day planned. Still, it couldn't be helped.

“Still don't want to tell me your name,” he asked and got only an angry stare in return. He guessed that was a no.

“Okay then kid with no name – ” Garrick stepped back a little to let her in and indicated the hallway with a wave of his arm. “ – it seems you're staying for the night. In the morning I'll drive you to Olmstead and the Westlord Academy where you can be with others of our people. For tonight, well, the bathroom’s down the hall. I suggest you use it. Pull out whatever you've got that's clean and put the rest in the washer. Laundry's next to the bathroom. And while you're doing that I'll put some dinner on.”

Garrick stepped back a little to let her in and indicated the hallway with a wave of his arm. Before he thought of the blindingly obvious.

“Oh, and if you want to run, run. I'm not going to stop you. I'm not your warder. As far as I'm concerned you can walk away now. The front door isn't locked. But it'll be a mistake. Olmstead is a good place for you. And if you do try to run remember that you'll be hunted. And it'll be Cassie that'll hunt you, not me. You're on her radar now that you've messed up. She'll catch you in minutes at most and probably bring you back here. And there will be consequences.”

“Consequences?” The girl stared worriedly at him.

“Of course. There will be consequences. You should know that while a lot of angels may seem to be a bunch of dead beat dads, the ones they send to boss us around don't seem to wander around playing harps and praying a lot. They're much more hands on than that. And they're somewhat on the rigid disciplinarian side. Don't expect a lot of sympathy and understanding – they don't have it. Don't ask for leniency – it won't be given. They are the perfect example of followers of the phrase spare the rod and spoil the child. Expect the strict enforcement of the rules and a rigid morality code. And don't imagine that you'll be able to fool them or lie your way out of trouble either. Their knowledge and power is immense.”

“Also, remember that whatever particular skills and gifts you've been given won't come anywhere close to what an angel can do. What we can do is nothing compared to them. We have at best one or two of their gifts, and they're weak. What the Choir have is everything, and it's immense.”

“The chances are that if Cassie has to bring you back you'll be crippled for a while. And if she catches you using your gifts to cause harm to others you'll wish she’d just crippled you.”

“Crippled?”

The word drew a concerned look from his house guest. But not concerned enough in his view. She doubted him, and he supposed he understood that. It was a lot to take in, especially given that she'd never heard any of it before. But she needed to hear it. She needed to know. And she needed to take it seriously.

In the end the bane of every nephilim's life was the Choir. It began with the one who'd fathered them and then continued with the rest who it seemed worked to stuff up their lives for every day that followed.

“Usually the punishment is not all that serious. Not the first time at least. They're not sadistic or cruel. They’re more strict like drill sergeants.
Very strict
. The angels would call it instructive. So the first time you do something wrong you’ll likely suffer a bit of pain. Enough to make you limp for a few days or a week. Long enough to learn that you don't want to do that again. Ever. The second time if you're stupid enough to try running away from them, it'll probably hurt more and last longer. Rudeness, especially excessively bad language used against someone can earn you a frozen tongue. They don't like disrespect of any sort. Drugs and alcohol will earn you some serious time as a teetotaller, And violence … well let's just say that they really don't like that. They will make sure you can't hurt anyone again.”

“Of course that's just for normal bad behaviour. If you use your gifts to hurt someone it will be worse, much worse. And they can take away your gift in case you were wondering.”

“As Cassie will no doubt tell you; having a gift is a responsibility.”

Actually she would more likely lecture than tell her. But the girl could find that out for herself in time. She would find it out because he knew that Cassie would be following up with her for a long while to come. She would consider the girl's straightening out to be her personal duty and she took her duties seriously.

Each angel had probably a dozen or so nephilim that he or she watched over. And while they weren't around all the time, they were always watching. It was something he himself had never fully comprehended until he'd made his first mistake and Cassie had appeared immediately.

“This is some sort of joke right?” She desperately wanted it to be.

“I wish! But angels don't have a sense of humour and they're the ones setting the rules.”

The warning given, Garrick decided that he wanted to return to his beer. It was getting warm and he was getting cold standing there in his bare feet. The rest of the house was carpeted but not the entrance. It had cold slate tiles he'd laid himself because they looked good. But his house guest wasn't going to let him return to the warmth of the lounge and his beer for a little bit.

“So if you're a nephilim then you have a gift?”

She wanted proof. Garrick understood that, and strangely he knew the feeling himself. A long time ago when someone else had given him fairly much the same speech, he'd asked for it as well. It had been disappointing. They weren't superheroes. Their gifts usually weren't flashy things that would get the cameras snapping. They were simple things. Often things that wouldn't even be noticed by others unless they looked. They were like the duds of the superhero world. They had to hide what they could do and yet at the same time what they could do was little.

“I don't do magic tricks kid. I'm not going to pull a rabbit out of a hat or saw someone in half. I'm a hunter. I can track people across the country by a sort of psychic sense of smell. But you have your own proof – you are your own proof – you don't need me. You have a gift and you've been using it. Using it for the wrong purposes apparently. And whatever you can do, you know it's not normal. That should be all the proof you need.”

“Uh huh.”

He gathered she still wasn’t buying it. Or maybe she was just disappointed.  After all, who wouldn’t want to see someone fly like a bird or run at supersonic speed?  To see something like that though she’d have to talk to the Choir. What they could do was incredible. But of course they would never do it. Not unless it was within their precious rules. And he guessed showing off like a performing seal wasn't. Neither was fun.

“All right, I've told you what you need to know. Believe it or not. It's not my job to convince you of anything. Go and wash up while I get some dinner on. Or if you want you can try and run away. I won't try and stop you. Again I'm not a prison guard. Just don't make a mess in my home.”

And that was probably as much as he could hope for. He suspected his house guest was going to be trouble. But all he had to do was get through the night and then drive her to Olmstead in the morning. After that she would be someone else's problem. Patricia's problem. That woman was good at dealing with problem teenagers. She'd dealt with him after all.

“Run away? You mean I can leave?”

She didn't believe him and he guessed he could understand that. But it was the simple truth.

“Just as I told you. You're not a prisoner. The door’s behind you. Walk away. Run. But remember this; you didn't walk through it when you got here. Cassie just brought you here directly from wherever you were. No doubt she found you in the blink of an eye. She will find you again and bring you back the same way no matter where you go. And you won’t enjoy it when she does, I promise you.”

If nothing else that should remind her of the fact that the impossible had already happened. However the angels did their little teleportation trick, it was impossible. She'd forgotten that in her fit of outrage. It was important that she remember. That she understand that Cassie could and would do it again and that there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

There was absolutely nothing any of them could do about the Choir.

“She's out there – isn't she?”

“Go and clean up.” Garrick sighed, knowing there was no point in answering her. She didn't trust him and she wouldn't believe him no matter what he said. It was easier to ignore her than argue. So instead he turned and headed for the kitchen. Maybe she'd be easier to deal with when she had some food inside her. He doubted it though.

When he got to the kitchen he did the sensible thing and poured the rest of his beer down the sink before he started on dinner. It was a pity watching the frothy brown nectar gurgle away, but he knew that Cassie was nearby, no doubt watching the girl. And if she was watching her then it stood to reason that she was also probably watching him. From there he could guess where her thoughts would lead. Drinking alcohol while in charge of a minor. It wasn't just his guest who would be in the angel's sights. And there were so many parts of his life she disapproved of. The beer was just the beginning of his failings. It was for that reason that he grabbed his weapon from the side table where it had been lying and holstered it. The Choir did not approve of their bastard children carrying weapons. Not even the ones who were FBI agents.

In Cassie's view Garrick was overly concerned with recreation and wasted his life in a pointless job that was unworthy of him and the gift he had been given. His dvds and books were constantly under threat. They were a distraction. He also had more important things to do than spend his days in criminal pursuits. He should be hunting down lost children and bringing them home. She hated his job. And for much the same reason she didn't approve of the sky diving and rock climbing. They were an indulgence. His efforts to keep fit she saw as a failing for a different reason. She believed he was narcissistic – doing it for the sake of his appearance more than anything else. She didn't accept his argument that as an agent he had to keep fit. And she absolutely loathed the fact that he carried a gun.

Thus far she'd been reasonably hands off with him, provided of course that he did everything that she demanded, like bringing difficult teenagers to school. And of course as long as he didn't abuse his limited freedom. But if he stepped out of line there would be consequences. There always were.

Garrick sighed some more, realising that for the next little while he would be in Cassie's sights. The girl might have been the one to mess up, but in doing so she had messed up his life too. Then again, he couldn't completely blame her.

In the end they were nephilim. They had always been screwed.