Holding my breath, hood as far down as I could tug it, I came forward and poured ale into their cups. I made the mistake of looking away from the food as I dished out stew from the big tub the Spruce and Axe had provided. Both the angel’s violet eyes and the demon’s silver ones tracked my every movement, but the weight of them felt vastly different. The angel’s felt predatory, the demon’s merely curious.
My hands trembled, giving away the fact that the rolls we’d bought were day-old as they struck the edge of the bowls with a solid sound. I hastily retreated to the corner of the room the moment I was finished, thankful it hadn’t been my day to prepare dinner on top of everything else. I certainly didn’t want my mediocre cooking to be the feature during such a meeting when I was already drawing so much unwanted attention. Though he’d barely twitched, I had been braced for the angel to snatch at my sleeve or tug off my hood every time I got within his reach. He was the embodiment of everything I was being hidden here from.
“So, Tap,” the angel said, blotting his face on the edge of Father’s stained tablecloth like it was a napkin after a single sniff of the stew and delicate bite of a roll, “what is it you’re here for? Never seen a demon so eagerly visit a church before.”
The scholarly demon set his spoon down. “I actually came for the well-stocked apothecary,” he said. “But one of my brothers once found a rare book here. As I was nearby…” He shrugged.
The angel grimaced as he sampled the ale. It seemed none of our offerings met his approval. “I see.” He looked at Tap as though trying to tell if he was being truthful.
“And you, Armaros? What is it you seek here? It’s not often angels venture to the earthly plane. At least, not without violent intentions.”
Father gasped, choking on his food.
“Very straightforward. I like it,” the angel laughed. There was a flash in his eyes as he glanced in my direction that made me feel like there were bugs crawling all over my skin. “Not many are bold enough to address me so, though I suppose I should have expected such from a fallen.” His laugh made my stomach turn. “A relic, as I said, though it seems it is not here as I’d hoped.”
“I’ll keep looking, though many have been lost to time. It may be a fruitless search, unfortunately,” Father mumbled.
“Is there anything else I should know about your recent visitors, Father?”
Father Morton shook his head. I held my breath, not wanting to miss a word. “No. I’ve recounted the whole conversation we had.”
“Other visitors? You seem to have many for such a small village,” Tap commented, eyes sliding to me for a brief moment.
“Indeed,” Armaros agreed. “Tell me again what they said.” His voice went cold.
Father Morton blustered under the hard stare of the angel. “They’re looking for a woman they say they know. I suspect based on their description, a Nephilim.”
I froze, heart pounding behind my ribs. I practiced slow breathing, but my head started to feel floaty. Surely his tactic was purposeful, but I felt completely exposed. The three visitors from the other dayhadactually been looking for me. Why hadn’t he told me?
The angel glanced at me again, and I willed the walls to swallow me whole. “Aren’t we all?” he muttered.
“Is Heaven seeking out Nephilim now?” Tap asked. “I didn’t think they held much interest to the celestial plane due to their… varied natures.”
Armaros grinned wide. “We’re calling all our flock home, particularly Nephilim.” He playfully gestured toward the demon.“Even the fallen could be welcome, if you’re interested. You carry angel blood, after all. At least you did.”
“I leapt from the celestial plane for good reason. I have no interest in returning.”
Armaros spread his hands wide. “As you say, then. But yes, I’m working on an initiative. It’s quite genius, really.” The angel’s eyes flashed in excitement, but his abrupt shift hinted at mania, like he couldn’t wait to brag. Nothing about him felt right, and I’d met many angels before coming to live here. My own father was one, after all, and he was the opposite of this man despite their similar physical traits. “I’ve been doing research on Voices. How to select and pass down the more desirable ones. So naturally, finding those with angelic blood who can help us with the practical parts of testing my theory is necessary.”
The demon’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes flashed red. “You’re seeking out Nephilim to use as…breeding stock?” He pulled a face, clearly disgusted.
Father Morton was nervously eating his food, seemingly happy to let them carry the conversation as long as neither he nor I were the focus of attention.
“That’s a rather crass way to put it, though accurate I suppose, as more babiesarethe goal. There are rewards in place, of course, not the least of which is the privilege of being matched with a full angel for the duration of one’s participation in the program. We require more participants to help us create the next generation. Full angels with the ability to reproduce in such a manner are not as plentiful as we’d like, and they’re doing what they can already. However, with my new method, we can ensure only the most useful and desirable talents are passed on, making all new births that much more valuable.”
I fisted my hands and continued being invisible, every last one of my parents’ worst fears being confirmed right in front ofme. I was beyond thankful for my tincture, no matter how bitter, or how much it burned, in that moment.
The demon sat back in his chair, clearly trying to create distance between him and the angel. His voice grew louder as questions poured out of him. “The records you want—I’m assuming they have to do with this? Why is such a thing necessary at all? Are the faithful no longer being rewarded with residence and wings like in days past? Is there something other than their penchant for picking pointless fights with other species reducing the number of angels?”
Armaros laughed, the bitter sound digging into my skin as it rolled over me. “Scholar to scholar, new angels being made has become a rarity. We don’t know why, but this is how we fix it. My brilliance has found a way!” He cheered for himself, making us all jump as he pounded a fist into the table. “And somewhere, there’s a ledger with record of all Voice talents to ever exist. I want it. Imagine, knowing which family line had the ability to freeze time for a moment, or see into the future. Who could Voice an object into being or move one at will, or manipulate the thoughts of others. Such information would help immeasurably with my efforts. As would a few dozen Nephilim,” he muttered the last bit of his diatribe, glancing at me yet again. “Your servant, Morton. Is there something… unusual about them?”
I did my best to breathe, but staying upright was becoming a bigger concern. My heart pounded against my ribs, and the same numb feeling had started to creep into my fingertips like when I had an episode.
“Nothing of note. He’s just a village boy I keep on to do chores.” Father Morton’s words were measured, but I worried he’d spoken too quickly, that the angel would be suspicious.
“Mmm.” Armaros narrowed his gaze and looked away again. “You’re sure there’s nothing else I should know about?”
“I’ve told you everything,” Father Morton assured him.
