by C. G. Blaine
“In case you’re sensitive to sound from your concussion,” I say.
She looks up at me. “Why? Where are you taking me?”
“For a ride.”
What should be a cold day at the end of November turns out to be one of the nicer days of the past few months. We start off slow, Hannah agreeing to let me know if it gets to be too much for her. Nephilim are known for healing faster than full humans, but not that fast.
Her hold on me tightens as I pull out onto the highway. The needle on the speedometer creeps higher and higher. I wait for her to tug on my shirt like she promised she would, but it never comes. So, I keep going, not paying attention to where anymore, and soon enough, we’re all alone. Everyone is sitting around a table with their families while we speed down the road, not bothered by a soul.
Once we hit one hundred, I drop my hand to her wrist and push up the sleeve until I find bare skin. Her pulse drums against my fingertips, still picking up speed. I can’t help but push it further. Enough light flows through me that the wind doesn’t even touch my skin anymore. I feel everything I lost and everything I stand to lose again. But this time, forever.
Once Hannah’s adrenaline peaks, I let off the throttle, letting us coast around a curve. We slow, Hannah’s pulse steadies, and I sober the fuck up. I have no idea where we are when I turn off onto an unpaved road, but I follow it until we reach a field of tall grass, brown and blowing in the breeze. It seems as good a place as any to try and tell someone you’re a Fallen Angel charged with protecting them until they die.
I help her climb off and lean the bike on its kickstand. She pulls off the helmet, and as she takes out the earplugs, I walk away. I keep walking into the field, having no idea what to say. I’ve never known any of us to even attempt this, and I’m not exactly the best choice to act as the guinea pig.
At the end of the field, a cliff overlooks the scenic view below. I force myself in the other direction before I reach it. The last thing I need is Hannah being anywhere near it with her track record.
She’s about twenty feet behind me, arms wrapped around herself. A section of hair covers her face from the breeze. She has to unbury her hand from the leather sleeve to push it back behind her ear. She swims in the jacket, making her look small and fragile, and for the first time in her life, I see her as something other than an obstacle in my way.
Hell of a time to lose your edge, Cass.
I take a deep breath and ask, “Do you want all my cards on the table at once, or should we ease into this?”
The question gets me a hint of light. Not enough to do anything with, but it’s there like a security blanket.
She nervously shifts her weight from one leg to the other. “How do you always know where I am?”
She tenses as I step toward her and grab the front of my jacket.
“Calm down,” I say. “I’m just getting something from the inside pocket.”
I fish out a cigarette and my lighter first, then hand her the crystal ball. She stares at it while I light my cigarette. Before she asks what it is, I wave my hand over it and walk away. I expect a thud as it hits the ground or a spark to shoot down my spine as she witnesses the globe in action. But neither happens, so I turn back around.
She’s still looking at it, eerily calm. “I don’t get it.”
“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t get it?” I stalk toward her, and she shrugs.
“How does this have anything to do with you finding me in the park or the alley?”
I rip it out of her hands and check. It shows me her face, and I realize, to her, it just looks like her reflection. So much for that idea. I drop it and regroup, switching to a more direct approach.
“Do you believe in God?” I ask, agitation apparent in my voice. “Angels and Heaven and all that?”
“About as much as unicorns and fairies.” Her eyebrows pull together. “Why? Are you going to try and tell me you’re an angel?”
The second she says it out loud, my throat seizes up. We’re at the point of no return. My hand actually shakes while I take a drag off my cigarette, and all I can do is nod.
Hannah catches me off guard with an amused smile. “You want me to believe you’re an angel?” Then she laughs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, John Smith.”
I stare at the sky, placing my hands on the back of my head. She’s starting to irritate me, and I want this done and over with now.
“You want me to prove it?”
She laughs again and nods.
“Fine.” I storm off toward the cliff, my head shaking the entire way.
“Cass…” she says, panic in her tone as I reach the edge. “What are you doing?”
“I’m fucking proving it.”
And then I jump off the cliff, Hannah’s screams following me down.
I drop to my knees, my entire body trembling as the cool breeze blows at my back. Shock takes over, my mind refusing to accept what my eyes just witnessed. But it happened. Cass went over the edge.
My vision blurs, tears streaming down my cheeks, and short bursts of air suck into my lungs, releasing just as fast.
“Calm down,” he says from behind me.
I stop breathing altogether and whirl around. He’s standing there, cigarette still balanced between his lips. I’m not even thinking about the impossibility of it, stumbling off the ground and running to him. He lets out a grunt when I hit his chest, and my arms lock around his neck. An arm reluctantly holds on to me as my feet dangle in the air.
“I thought you were dead.” I bury my face in his neck, his skin so warm that it almost burns. “You should be dead.”
Everything clicks then, my brain finally catching up.
He’s a fucking angel.
I push away from him hard enough that I almost fall backward. I catch my balance and keep backing away, wanting as much distance between us as possible.
“Hannah,” he says, his strides matching my own, “calm down.”
“Stop saying that.”
I’m still backpedaling when he disappears from in front of me. I back straight into him and spin around. Only him and a few feet separate me from the cliffside. He reaches out, keeping his arm between me and the edge as I look over at the jagged rocks waiting at the bottom of a hundred-foot drop.
Logic says I continue panicking, but my thoughts become sluggish. Everything slows down. I bring a hand to my forehead. Cass’s voice warbles in and out, and I feel the warmth of his hands on me. When I look up, his concerned face fades out of focus. Darkness bleeds in from the edges. As it takes over, I only make out one word: “Fuck.”
Not much registers at first but the chill of the hard ground beneath me. My eyes blink open. I’m still in the field with the dry grass surrounding me.
“Welcome back,” Cass says from above me.
I sit up too fast, the world spinning in response. With my head no longer in his lap, he readjusts, leaning on an elbow and facing me. I look around, like my surroundings will help make sense of everything, but my eyes return to him without any new answers.
“Should we try this again?” he asks.
Maybe it’s because I’m tired and still partially convinced I’m in a coma that I nod. “You’re an angel.” I sound braver than I feel, and he studies me like he knows it.
“I am.”
“And you use that ball to find me?”
After a few seconds, he drops onto his back and hands me the glass ball again. My pulse jumps when my fingers brush his, taking it. Like the first time, I examine it, seeing nothing but my face reflected. Without looking, he reaches over and places a hand on the sphere behind mine. The image changes, widening to show both of us, him lying on the ground next to me as I stare at the ball in my hands.
“Holy shit.” I let go, and he catches it with a smirk, a dimple appearing.
“Worked that time,” he mutters and sets it on his other side. “I was one of the original Watchers.”
I start to ask a question, but he cuts me off, “If you call me a Guardian Angel, I’ll throw your ass over the cliff.”
My mouth clamps shut, and his eyes roll before he continues, “We were only supposed to watch, not get involved. Short version is, we all broke the rules in one way or another. Some knocked up a bunch of women and created a super-breed of angel-human hybrids called the Nephilim. The rest revealed information man wasn’t supposed to learn yet.”
“Which were you?” I ask, still not sure how much I believe.
He stares at me, eyebrow raised. “Astronomy. If I were in the other group, I wouldn’t be here. As part of their punishment, they were all made human and died thousands of years ago.”
“Wait, how old are you?”
“Angels aren’t born, so we don’t age. We simply exist.”
Disregarding how crazy that sounds, I rephrase, “How long have you existed then?”
He half-smiles and says, “Since the beginning.”
“Oh.” I nod like I understand but can’t even begin to process what he means. “The beginning of what?”
His expression returns to annoyed. “You’re distracting me from my point, and it’s going to be dark soon.”
I glance at the horizon where the sun’s lowering behind the clouds.
He sits up, lighting another cigarette, and exhales smoke through his nose. “The angelic properties in Nephilim blood never dilute. First or twelfth generation, they remain half-angel and, back then, they maintained certain powers. After a while, the Nephilim considered themselves gods and began feuding over who was more powerful. They recruited humans to go to war for them. And thanks to our interference, man had advanced faster than we could have anticipated, developing weapons and strategies for fighting. The entire world ended up a giant, bloody battlefield, and getting them under control required drastic measures.”
I pull my hands back into the sleeves of the jacket, the temperature dropping as fast as the sun. “There’s something in the Bible about the Nephilim, right?” My comment earns a dubious look. “I never said I didn’t listen at church. I just said I believe in it as much as magical creatures.”
He nods and ashes next to his foot. “You’re right. It’s in Genesis before the flood. God destroyed the Earth to kill them and everything else to start over. The thirteen angels who couldn’t keep it in their pants were used to re-kick-start humanity since they had already proven themselves fertile—along with a few thousand new humans.”
“And what about you and the others?”
Cass rubs the back of his neck, taking another drag. “God spared seven of the Nephilim and released them back into the world after suppressing their abilities. For our punishment, God tied each of our powers to one, only giving us access when something threatened them. In order to reenter Heaven, we had to keep our Nephilim from dying anything other than a natural death. And then we were charged with doing the same for all of their Nephilim descendants.” He pauses, his eyes meeting mine. “Every. Single. One.”
He says the words with a staccato, and with each, I become more aware of what he means. If he’s only here to watch over Nephilim, then…
“I’m a Nephilim,” I whisper.
Not needing confirmation, I push off the ground and run toward the road we came in on. Twilight has set in, but I don’t care. It’s all too much. I can’t be here anymore. Not in this field or with him.
“Hannah,” he shouts, catching up with me. He jerks me toward him by the arm, my chest hitting his. I try to pull away, but his hands cup my face. “Stop,” he demands.
I blink away the burning in my eyes, not looking at him. “Which one?”
“What?” He ignores the tears rolling over his thumbs.
My gaze finally lifts to his, and for once, I’m the one glaring. “Which one of my parents were you supposed to protect?”
“Hannah—”
“Which one?”
His jaw tenses as he swallows. “Brice.”
The air leaves my body, and I squeeze shut my eyes.
“I couldn’t save him, Hannah. It wasn’t my choice.”
I try to pull his wrists away, but he doesn’t move.
“It was an act of God,” he says. “They were meant to die on the plane.”
I shake my head, desperate for him to stop talking. If what he says is true, not only is God real, but I hate him. I hate him for taking them away and leaving me alone. Because that’s what I’ve been since the moment they were gone.
This time, Cass lets me break away. I walk back toward the cliff, not having anywhere else to go. I’m all the way to the edge when I feel his hold on my arm. Not tight, but protective as I lower down on the ledge. He sits next to me, our legs hanging over the side. Neither of us talks for a long time. The sky darkens around us, and the stars appear.
“How does it work?” I ask, finally breaking the silence. “How do you know when I need you?”
He rubs his hands together. “Do you trust me?”
Before I can answer, he shoves me over the edge.
I gasp, clutching on to him. “Cass!”
“You feel the rush?” he asks. “The adrenaline?”
“I feel like I’m going to fall, you asshole.”
He pulls me back to a safe distance and holds his hand out, palm up. The light on his fingertips looks dim enough to be the moon reflecting, but the intensity grows, spreading down his fingers until his entire palm glows with a bright white light. I touch the center, feeling the heat of his skin and a pulse of static across my own.
“It’s divine light,” he says. “Energy created by heavenly beings.”
The light lessens as my heart rate returns to normal, and his skin cools.
Once it disappears, he pulls his hand away and clenches his fist. “The only time I feel it is if you’re in danger or your adrenaline spikes. Other times, I might as well be a fucking human.” His mood changes fast, sullen again. He stands and hauls me to my feet. “Let’s go.”
We return to not talking as he impatiently waits for me to climb on the back of his bike. It’s late, and the roads are as abandoned as they were earlier in the day. The air’s colder though. I lost the gloves he gave me in the field, so when we stop at a gas station, my fingers are pink from the wind. Cass pumps gas, watching me hide them in the sleeves of his jacket.
“Where do you get your money?” I ask.
“Artifacts mostly.” He hangs the nozzle and screws on the gas cap. “People pay a lot of money to own random shit from three or four hundred years ago.”
He straddles the seat, and I crawl back on behind him. Before starting the bike, he shoves my hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. The back tire screeches and fishtails as he pulls back onto the highway. His driving stays erratic, and the faster my heart beats, the warmer he becomes, my body directly affecting his. We fly through the dark scenery, road signs flashing past in the headlight. It’s easy to forget about the world. But then we reach city limits. He slows down, and it all comes crashing back in.
With everyone still gone for Thanksgiving, the dorms are dark, except for the main entrance. Cass hovers in my doorway after I switch on the light.
“When does Terra get back?” he asks.
I smile, hearing him say her name.
“What?” He crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the frame.
“You know all these things about me, and I don’t even know your last name.”
“Daye,” he says. He cracks a smile, and my belly flips at the dimples. They fade away, and he’s serious again. “You need to eat.”
“Want to order something?” I think about everything he’s told me and add, “Wait, do you eat?”
He nods and pulls out his phone. “Just not that Indian crap you like.”
His name is Cass Daye, and he’s an angel who hates Indian food. Now I know three things about him.
By the time he finishes ordering pizza, I�
�m halfway through a bag of gummy bears from the stash he left yesterday. I lean back on the dresser and study him while he stands by the door across the room.
“What happens now?” I ask.
He shrugs, pocketing his phone. “They bake the pizza and drive it over here.”
I guess grating sarcasm beats him not answering. “I mean, with you and me. Do you go back to following me around and not talking to me?”
He tilts his head toward his shoulder as he shrugs again.
That’s exactly what he plans on doing. It bothers me more than it should. It’s our natural state, him in the background without me aware of it, but I thought it would be different.
“You’ll be around for the rest of my life, right?”
“That’s the deal,” he says.
“And if I have any kids, you’ll watch over them too?”
Cass shakes his head, looking at the floor. “You’re not having children.”
He says it like it’s a fact already decided.
“I’m not?” I challenge. Although I doubt I’ll ever want any, I won’t let him dictate the choice for me.
“No.” His steely gaze rises to mine. “You’re the last Nephilim in my line. After you, I go home.”
“That’s not really up to you, though, is it, Cass?”
He steps farther into the room toward me, a nerve struck. “Are you sure about that?”
I stand my ground when he reaches me and tilt my chin up, our eyes staying locked. He towers over me while I force slow, even breaths, not willing to back down.
“The tough act won’t work on me, Hannah.” His palm presses against my chest where my heart pounds. A warm spark skitters across my skin. I slap his hand away, glaring at him.
Cass smirks, holding up his glowing palms as he backs off. “Calm down, sweetheart. You can’t have babies if you never have sex.” He grabs his leather jacket off the bed. “Enjoy the pizza.” Halfway across the room, he spins and keeps backing out. “And tell Gabe I say hi … if you ever see him again.”
