“Unfortunately, no, I had to let it go to waste. My former vessel had to be dealt with, and I couldn’t have human blood showing up in her autopsy. We can’t be too careful, you know.”
Lena could be cruel, but she was not stupid. She only broke the rules when there was something significant to be gained. And few dared to cross her. She had several of the Grigori elders behind her, along with a small army of fate demons—former humans who’d gambled their souls and lost. When it came to my mother’s transgressions, the Order of Angels tended to look the other way.
“Why Hollywood?” I asked. The last time we’d met, she and my brother were corrupting New York City stockbrokers and meddling with foreign nations’ economies.
“The souls there are so raw, darling, so willing to do whatever it takes. And the weather suits me.”
The waiter returned then with our drinks and asked if we’d like to order food as well. Lena flashed him a smile. “With a body like this, I have to drink my meals.” This made our young waiter blush in a most appetizing way. Lena licked her lips, and I couldn’t help but be tempted as well. Evidence of blood rushing anywhere on a human body was highly arousing for our kind.
“That boy is a dish,” she said when he’d left. She gestured with her hands and uttered a few words in Latin, which caused everyone who’d been spying on us to avert their gaze—mudra seduction. She then pulled a slender flask from her handbag and dumped a good portion of what appeared to be human blood into her glass. “It’s the only way I can drink it,” she said, then offered it to me. I reluctantly declined. I didn’t want the taste of blood to send me into a frenzy.
“I see you’re still suffering from a conscience,” she said with a sigh of disappointment. “Still so despicably human after all these years. That’s the Adam in you.”
Adam was what Lena called all of her human conquests. Despite her refusal to utter his name, my mother had had a true affection for my father. It was only much later in life that she’d told me love was for fools and peasants.
“Oh, how I miss the old days,” she was saying. “Every bloodmeal a fresh feed. No rationing our thirst. Carte blanche on soul persuasion. Life was so much better before the moral minority took over.”
She was referencing her banishment from the holy realms. The story of the Fall, as it was relayed to me by Lena many times over, goes something like this:
Many years ago, there was a paradigm shift among the gods and those who worshipped them. One contingent of angels wished to purge the world of the wicked and start over with the human race, while my mother, and many more like her, believed that without the temptation of sin, there could be no real virtue.
In a largely political gesture, a grouping of these more sympathetic angels, which included my mother, were dispatched to the earthen realm to act as witnesses to the human race. Their celestial spirits were born into bodies that resembled humans in appearance. The Grigori, or Watchers, were meant to shepherd humans onto the path of righteousness, but along the way, they became quite comfortable in their human skins. They bonded with their mortal companions and sympathized with their plight. The angels of the holy realms accused them of losing their way, while the Grigori maintained they were only reaching a deeper level of understanding. Tensions rose. In the ultimate act of defiance, the Grigori took human lovers and spawned us Nephilim half-breeds. Now, there was a race that blended with humans, but was enhanced with god-like powers, wisdom, and immortality.
Our existence was a threat to gods and humans alike.
When the angels learned of this abomination, an all-out genocide ensued in a ruthless attempt to rid the earth of us mongrels. When that attempt proved futile, and the human cost too great, an uneasy truce was reached. In the Treaty of the Realms, spiritual and temporal territory was divided up, new rules were codified into angelic law, and those angels who’d fallen were permitted, within certain limitations, to roam the earth in their original bodies and lie with humans.
It was also determined in this negotiation that we Nephilim would be bound to the earthen realm until we could prove either our virtue or our vice.
It is believed by many, my mother included, that the War of the Realms was less about improving the human condition and more about consolidating power. And perhaps what has made my mother most bitter was the rewriting of history by the victors, painting her as a contemptible monster and not a goddess and savior to the people. That was, when Lena’s name was mentioned at all.
“So, my darling,” Lena said, bringing me back to the present by asking the question every grown child dreaded. “Are you seeing someone?”
Your face instantly popped into my mind, but I dashed it away for fear that my mother might read something in my expression.
“Work keeps me busy,” I said.
She scowled. “A thankless job for a cold stiff.”
“You and Azrael were friends once,” I reminded her.
“That was a long time ago.” Her frown deepened as if recalling some bitter memory. Then her eyes lifted, and her sunny disposition returned. “The fun we used to have in the colosseums. Those gladiators’ beautiful bodies oiled up and fighting to the death. What better prize than freedom? Nowthatwas a proper sacrifice to the Angel of Death and Destruction.”
I found human sacrifice dreadfully barbaric, except for the obvious benefit of a probable feast. Because of the unique punishment given to me by the gods, I didn’t much fantasize about blood sport anymore. Ironic, because I was once charged with leading armies of men to battle.
“He’s dropped ‘Destruction’ from his title,” I informed her. “And he no longer requires blood sacrifice.”
“Only the enslavement of our sons and daughters to his loathsome Imperium.”
I couldn’t argue with her on that point.
“But I worry about you, darling. All alone without a body of your own. Please tell me you’ve had a few indiscretions here and there.”
“Here and there,” I said, though it had been so long I could hardly remember my last carnal encounter. Unwittingly my thoughts drifted to you again, to a few nights ago when you were alone in your bedroom, and I watched you give yourself pleasure. The beads of sweat that gathered on your upper lip and your quiet, desperate moaning…
“Are you sure there’s not someone special?” Lena asked, her shrewd eyes appraising me.
“No one,” I answered and prayed she’d not be able to divine my thoughts. Instead of being forced to elaborate, I drained my drink.
