by Leena Maria
He did not know who had originally created the house and, as he was not yet skilled enough to form one out of nothing, he was happy to "renovate" an already existing "ghost house". That's what these uninhabited, fading houses were called and sometimes the shadows took possession of them too. People stopped occupying houses once the shadows had arrived. You could see the shades moving about inside, through the semi-transparent grey walls. Shadows within shadows.
There were real workshops in the City that specialised in creating the creatures that they simply called "the shadows". Mr. Donnelly was repelled by the forms they produced, which were all monstrous, like wraiths or werewolves. He wondered aloud why they could not be pretty maidens, and it was only later that he began to understand. It was because of the energy level of this world. You could make magnificent things, but because the city was situated at the lowest level of energy around the human world – the level where thought energy was heaviest. Everything was somehow tainted by that energy. No matter how hard you tried to create a human looking shadow, it would change into a twisted form on its own.
He watched what was happening with a growing sense of unease. Perhaps it was due to the inexperience of the people using energy to create things. He found that logical – his own feeble attempts did not create much beauty either. If he formed an apple, it looked appealing for a short while, but the next day it was wrinkly and had lost its color. This was the start of his disillusionment with the City and its inhabitants.
The most alarming things were the angels that he began to see every once in a while. At first their beauty overjoyed him, but soon learned they were not at all the angels of his imagination or belief. He heard the whispered term "Nephilim", and learned what it meant. These were not angels at all, but abominations. He found an old book that described the offspring of angels and men as terrifying creatures – without empathy and without any positive emotions. They showed no remorse when they killed people – and worse, they drank their blood, turning them into horrible monsters of the darkness. Half human, half shadow, these Nephililm-created creatures needed to drink human blood to survive - the blood seemed to return some of their humanness for a while. This they sought constantly, living in a state of endless misery, unable to satisfy their appetites. He learned from what he read that there were other kinds of Nephilim, good ones, but he had never seen them - of course, why would they come to a place like the City of Immortals, with its superficial attraction and underlying decay and shadows?
And if any of the Immortals should fall from grace with the dark Nephilim there was rumoured to be an even lower level of energy, where these unfortunates lived in their transformed state. Their domain there was so low they could move straight into the human world to kill and to drink blood. Mr Donnelly viewed it as the gutters and sewers of the energy world and tried not to let it into his imagination at all.
In time he learned even more – how the Immortals transferred part of their own energy into the shadows, so they could control them on their journeys. One task of the shadows was to be sent to the human world to steal things the Immortals did not have the skills or the desire to make.
One day Mr. Donnelly learned to do this himself. He found that, with intense concentration he could connect with a ready-made shadow figure, and make it move. He started to see with its eyes, and hear with its ears in a curious way. It was a strange feeling – as though he was in two locations at the same time.
"Do not make too close a connection with your shadow." That's what they warned him. If he didn't follow the advice not to bond too closely, he risked transforming into his shadow and his physical body would die. Mr Donnelly had seen a few such people in the City of Immortals and every time he had found the sight deeply disturbing.
Mr. Donnelly never really learned how to feel comfortable with, or successful at, dividing his consciousness between two places at once. If he sent his shadow on an errand, he had to lie down or at least not do anything that required concentration afterwards. He used his shadow only to steal books, and withdrew from it as soon as it came back. Once the connection had been made, he could never detach himself completely from it, though. The only way to do that was to kill the shadow. And soft-hearted Mr Donnelly, who had always captured spiders under a drinking glass in order to release them, could not bear to think of killing a shadow, however monstrous it was.
As the human years passed Mr. Donnelly realised he was not getting much older. Not as much as should be expected, anyway. He was advised that he could use his shadow to steal energy too, which would invigorate him, and replace the slowly depleting energies of his own physical body. If he ran out of energy, he would die; but here, that would be a matter of hundreds of human years hence even if he did not steal energy from others. Nonetheless, this world was close enough to the human world that time did have an effect, however slowly, unless action was taken to prevent it. Mr. Donnelly could not bring himself to use his shadow to steal the life-force of living people. He considered it as abhorrent as drinking their blood. And - after all, was not a few hundred years of life enough?
He barricaded himself in the library and, wisely, pleased Evelyn and Cain whenever they came for a visit. As time passed, he began to see them for what they really were and cursed himself when he realised how deeply he had been taken in by their glamour. In time he learned what they were really looking for – the mysterious Book of Watchers. There were clues to it, he learned, but these clues were well hidden and no one knew where. No-one had succeeded in finding any so far. This is why they had brought him to the city of Immortals.
The task was complicated by the fact that they were sure the clues had to be found in a certain order. The correct starting point had to be found in order to reveal the next step on the path.
Mr. Donnelly had once sneaked down to the lower level of which he'd heard rumours. There was a gateway to it in the castle where the Council sat. Inhabitants of the City who broke its rules were sent straight from the Council chambers down there. As the library was connected to the Council building, no one stopped him or commented on the fact he was loitering about with books and scrolls in his hands.
Slipping through the gateway, he had entered what looked like an underground world. It was dark and misty, and full of vague and horrible figures. He had only moved a few steps inside the gate, but his presence drew the attention of creatures that chilled his blood.
Then he recognised one of them – it was his own library assistant who had slept on his job, and as a result tipped over a candle that had caused some books to burn. He had been taken away by the Council guards and then - simply vanished. Now he was there, still identifiable in this horribly pale, grey, and ferocious being. His mouth had changed – he had grown some kind of a snout and had a very unpleasant row of sharp teeth. His appearance had a new familiarity about it though and Mr. Donnelly realized with shock that he had been forced to become one with his shadow permanently.
This is surely the end, thought Mr Donnelly, cursing himself. These creatures would tear him apart. Suddenly his old assistant spoke in a snarling voice.
"Back! Get back, all of you!" He snapped his jaw and raked out his upper limbs at the other encroaching shadows, revealing sharp claws at the end of each finger instead of nails. The other shadows stepped back reluctantly as he growled and slavered ferociously at them. Then he turned to Mr Donnelly and said, in a voice that was angry and yet filled with anguish, "Leave! Now! Never return. This is the place of the doomed. Next time - even I might view you as food!"
Mr. Donnelly turned and for the first time in years, ran.
His one thought now was to escape, knowing for certain he had made a horrible mistake in falling for the superficial charms of Evelyn and Cain and in coming to the City of the Immortals. He began studying anything he could find about the world he was living in, trying to discover some hint about possible gates back into the human world, ones he could use without the need to go to the shadow world underneath the City.
&nb
sp; His hosts were greatly pleased by his endless hours of work, not realising he was using many of them to try to find a means of escape. Mr Donnelly kept a tight control on his emotions and imagination and practised for hours so that he would reveal nothing in his face or movements. When he finally realised that it was his shadow that anchored him to the world of the Immortals, preventing him from getting back to the human world, he fell into depression. He still could not bring himself to destroy it, although he knew he must in order to achieve his freedom. After a few days he understood his work was all he had left now, and he threw himself into dedicated, almost feverish research.
In his new enthusiasm for research he had indeed found a clue as to where the path to the Book of Watchers would start, but he held the information closely to himself, fearing that if he told anyone about it, he'd make himself redundant. And if they didn't need him any more....and then he had found Merit's notebook.
They had become impatient, the Nephilim, and one day Cain appeared in the library, where Mr. Donnelly now held the position of librarian in chief.
"Still no results, my esteemed librarian?" Cain's voice was cool and indifferent. He had been standing so close to Mr. Donnelly that sweat had started to trickle from the scholar's neck because of Cain's body heat. With one burning finger Cain had simply drawn a line on Mr. Donnelly's neck, and he understood the gesture for what it was - a threat.
He would have to reveal his findings.
The night after this, he had sat in his study clearly marked with the sign "head librarian". He sat with his shadow, having lost all hope. And miraculously, hope came.
Suddenly there were two young men with him in the room. The door was locked, and yet they appeared standing behind Mr. Donnelly. He realised that they were Nephilim and almost fainted with fear. Cain must have sent them to take him away...
Then he noticed the difference – these ones had bright blue eyes, not yellow. He had learned about them in his studies – they were the other kind of Nephilim, the unspoiled ones.
So he had not objected at all, when they grabbed him and bore him off. He lost consciousness along the way, and when he came to, he was in the hallway of an unfamiliar building.
Everything felt more solid than it ever had in the world of the Immortals. Mr Donnelly realised with a relief that almost brought tears to his eyes that he was back in the human world!
The dark haired Nephilim was lying on the floor, his wings horribly torn and bleeding. Mr Donnelly was escorted away, and he felt a sudden snap of energy that hurt his stomach, and knew his shadow was dead, and he had all his own energies back for himself.
He could have cried for joy. Finally, he was back among the living. His shadow was dead and could no longer pull him back into the dreaded world of Immortals. He was free.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
61. Nephilim Searching
I don't know what I expected to see, but it wasn't this. My idea of Immortals was much colored by fantasy literature and films. I'd have expected an Immortal to be young, muscular, and wearing something that looked like a Roman soldier's outfit.
Instead I saw a thin, bald man in his fifties. He was wearing a worn jacket with leather patches at the elbows. His trousers were straight, and his old-fashioned shoes were well polished. It looked as though he had been to an English pub with old friends, to eat shepherd's pie and perhaps have one pint.
He had round spectacles on his nose, and a kind and tired look in his eyes.
When we entered the room, he immediately closed the book he was reading, put it carefully on the table, folded his glasses and put them in his vest pocket, and rose to his feet, facing us. I had a glance at the book. It was the first volume of Lord of the Rings, I noticed, one of my childhood favorites.
"Good - ah - morning," the man bowed slightly and I realised that he'd probably lost all sense of time. "William Donnelly at your service."
I could see Daniel had not expected this either. He had probably planned on scaring the man into talking, but now it would have been out of place.
"Good day, Mr. Donnelly," he answered politely instead. "Do you know where you are?"
"I do not, but it is enough to know I am back in the ordinary world. I cannot begin to thank you enough for it. But why you chose to save me, I can't imagine. May I ask what this is about? And - will you let me stay here? I don't need to go back to the Immortals?" he asked, clearly nervous.
Lilith stepped forward.
"You are our prisoner, but indeed we have no intention of returning you to the buffer zone."
Mr. Donnelly smiled, and then surprised us all by starting to cry. We stood there, not knowing how to react to this sudden show of emotions. Then Grandma moved gracefully forward, put her hand around Mr. Donnelly's shoulders and led him back to the sofa.
"There, sit down Mr. Donnelly, and we'll have a talk."
"Indeed, indeed... I do apologize.. I am simply so happy to be free again!"
What an odd thing to say - to consider oneself to be free in a prison.
With shaking hands Mr. Donnelly dipped his fingers into the pocket of his vest and took out a pristine clean handkerchief, dropping his glasses onto his lap. He dabbed his eyes with the handkerchief, and took a deep breath.
"You were held there without your consent?" Lilith asked.
"Yes. But it is not so straightforward, I'm afraid. I did enter the world of the Immortals willingly, you see."
Mr. Donnelly told us his story, beginning with meeting the apparently delightful Miss Evelyn Harper, and ending with being snatched away by Daniel and Elijah.
"Evelyn... Angel, more likely," I heard Elijah mutter to Daniel.
"But how can it be that you are so well healed, young man?" Mr. Donnelly directed his words at Elijah. "You were severely injured the last time I saw you. I was afraid you would die, the attack on you was so fierce."
He swallowed, still clearly shocked by the fight he had witnessed in the buffer zone.
"We have very good doctors," Lilith hastened to say.
"Yes, maybe the Nephilim heal faster," Mr. Donnelly mused as if he was making a mental note for a research subject. ""I see there are three of you here. All of the unspoiled kind. How happy I am to see you. I thought the dark Nephilim had killed you all. I am aware of their war against you - it has continued since antiquity."
So Mr. Donnelly had immediately marked me out as one of the Nephilim too.
"They do try," Daniel commented dryly, "but no, they have not killed us all."
"Tell us what you know of the Book of Watchers," Lilith interrupted. "Why do they want to find it?"
Mr. Donnelly collected his thoughts for a while.
"They are very interested in their history, the dark Nephilim. There is some ancient truth in that book they need to find, or so they said to me. They did not tell me what it was, but I think I have worked it out on my own."
"Yes?" Lilith was careful not to reveal anything, and managed to sound only mildly curious.
"I may look like a quiet scholar, but I keep my ears and eyes open, and I have the mind of a researcher, even if I do say so myself. I overheard Evelyn and Cain talking to each other once about a Book of Messengers, and how all the copies needed to be destroyed so that no one else would find their way to the Book of Watchers."
Reggie stepped forward, eagerly. Lilith's gesture made him stop. Mr. Donnelly clearly recognised a fellow scholar (they looked quite alike, with the only difference between them being Reggie's bushy hair and eyebrows, and tall frame), and the rest of his words were directed at Reggie.
"I had heard of the Book of Messengers while I was still living in London. And as it happened, while studying angelology, I had come across the very book. It was located in a small nunnery in Kent. They were very proud of their little library, and had this ancient manuscript in their possession. It took me years of correspondence with the good mother superior, but finally, one Christmas, I was invited to see the book."
"Really?" Reggie could no
longer stay quiet. "What was it like?"
"Quite small. And I have to say, the oldest, and most magnificent book I have ever seen. The very first book, in book form as we know it, that was ever created! It was beautiful!"
Mr. Donnelly forgot himself in his memories for a while, looking very much like Reggie in the same state of mind, smiling to himself, and sighing.
"And...?" Lilith prompted.
"Oh, yes, quite, begging your pardon... There was an illustration there, of a red-winged angel. He was holding a scroll, and on it was drawn something I could not quite get. The words revealed it though, it said: The scroll of iyrin, the path to their abode."
"Ah! Yes!" Reggie beamed.
"So I came to understand that the Book of Watchers is not a book at all, but a map that leads them to wherever they came from. I never revealed to them that I knew what the book was. I tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, and not draw any unnecessary attention to myself."
Lilith nodded.
"Indeed. It is a map. But what of the clues to it?"
"Now that's the interesting part. It seems there is a chain of clues; each needed to understand the next one. If you find a clue, but don't have the previous one in your hands, you don't know in which order you should proceed."
"Hands? You mean they are physical things?" Reggie inquired.
"So I gather," Mr. Donnell nodded. He looked slightly embarrassed and it was a few seconds before he continued, "My shadow was very good at stealing books. That may be because our shadows do reflect our personalities, even if they are twisted in their form. I often sent it to the human world to steal books, as I was not given permission to go there myself. I never understood why it could enter the world, but I could not. It was one of the curiosities of my existence there. I never sent the shadow to steal the Book of Messengers, though. It was too fragile, and shadows have no respect for fragile things... If the book had been damaged in the process..."
Reggie was already sitting by Mr. Donnelly on the sofa.
