“Oh, sweet. It’s nice to meet you.” Achaia said. Now she was the one reaching out her hand. Yellaina smiled sweetly and took it lightly in her own.
“Bonjour! It’s nice to meet you.” Yellaina’s voice was almost nauseatingly cheery, but it was hard to be annoyed by someone so nice. Unlike Olivier, Yellaina had a slight accent. She sounded almost Russian.
Achaia struggled with the conflict in her head for a moment. To like her, or to hate her? She’d never been one to hang out with preppy people.
“So we should probably head to French, huh?” Yellaina pulled on Achaia’s arm, tugging her away from Olivier and to their next class. Achaia followed along, throwing caution to the wind.
She hadn’t made friends this quickly at any of her old schools, if she had made any at all. She decided to give the preppy girl a chance, wondering if Yellaina and Olivier’s group of friends were foreign-exchange students and that’s why they were being so nice to the new kid.
“Have you taken a foreign language before?” Yellaina asked as they entered their French class.
“Nope, this is my first,” Achaia said, looking for a seat near the back.
“You should sit next to me. We don’t have assigned seats in this class.” Yellaina walked up to the teacher and began conversing quite comfortably in French. Achaia wondered for a second if it was her first language; her accent sounded authentic. She laughed and the words trickled off her tongue like water off a wet leaf; natural, beautiful. She walked back over to where Achaia stood in awe. “You’ve come on a good day. We’re learning the days of the week!” Yellaina sounded excited.
“It sounds as if you’d already know those. What are you doing in French One?” Achaia asked following Yellaina to two seats in the front row.
“Oh well, you have to take a foreign language to be on the college track,” Yellaina said simply, as if Achaia should have already known since it was so obvious.
“Are you French?” Achaia asked rather bluntly.
“Oh no, pas du tout. I just think it’s pretty. I pick up on languages pretty quickly. It’s a gift.” Yellaina said shrugging the hair away from her shoulder and pulling out her notebook with too much enthusiasm. “I’m from Moscow originally.”
“That’s awesome. Why did you move here?” Achaia asked, thankful that despite all the moving, she had at least stayed in the same country.
“My father. He moved here for work and made me come.” Yellaina had a twinge of bitterness tainting her cheery tone. This made Achaia a little too happy, convinced that Yellaina might actually be a normal girl too.
“I can relate to that!” Achaia said opening her binder and copying the date in French from off the board.
“Yeah?” Yellaina asked. “Then we’ll get along quite well, I think.” She smiled brilliantly.
Achaia walked home from the bus stop with her face scrunched against the wind. When she got to her door she unlocked it and walked inside. Shaking the moisture from her jacket. “Dad?” she called, hanging her jacket on the coat rack next to the door.
No answer. She walked quietly through the apartment, which took about a minute seeing as it was so small. With no sign of her dad anywhere, she perched herself on the couch, turned on the TV and propped her legs up on an unpacked box.
Achaia flipped through the channels idly for a few minutes before deciding there was nothing good on. She gave up hope, and left it on the history channel where two men were having a debate about the Bible. Two theologians argued over what some ancient people group called Nephilim were.
Half listening to the TV, half focused, she worked on her homework until the door opened. “Dad?” She set her notebooks down on the couch beside her, as the coated figure turned around. “Naphtali!” Achaia exclaimed leaping from the couch and bolting across the room to hug him.
“Hey kiddo. How are things at the new school?” Naphtali asked, giving her a quick squeeze and holding her at arm’s length to get a good look at her. Normally it would have bothered a sixteen year old girl to be called kiddo, but when it came from Naphtali, it was endearing, especially with his mashed up accent from all the places he had lived.
“Pretty good, actually. I’m taking French.” She smiled widely; she was pretty sure he had lived in France at one point. It’d been months since she’d seen Naphtali last. He had a cut across his left eye. “What happened?”
“Awe, nothing really. I had a disagreement with a sliding glass door.”
Achaia raised an eyebrow and smirked with curiosity. “Did you have the disagreement or did Jack?”
“It’s a story for another time. But I assure you, I wasn’t drinking.” He laughed. “Your dad asked me to come check on you. I ran into him downtown today. I figured I’d come by and make sure you ate some real food for dinner.”
“Okay!” Achaia said skipping toward the kitchen, taking pots and pans out of the cabinets. She ripped open a cardboard box and started scrambling through boxes of macaroni and cheese.
“I was actually thinking of something a little more fresh,” Naphtali said walking toward the kitchen bringing a bag out from behind his back.
“Is that – fish?” Achaia asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She loved Naphtali’s cooking, especially with fresh ingredients, which he always seemed to have. There was something exotic about the flavors he combined. “You know I love seafood.”
“I do. And yes, it is, straight from Fulton’s market.” Naphtali smiled.
Naphtali cooked, Achaia did what she could to help, like passing him the salt shaker, and opening the refrigerator when his hands were full. The TV played in the background, the same argument about the Bible. Naphtali’s ears would perk up every once in a while and he would laugh about whatever the men were saying and shake his head.
Achaia took a bite of okra and chewed happily. Life with her father was a series of frozen dinners, delivery pizza, and easy mac. She wondered if her mom had been able to cook, and if they would have had family dinners if she were alive.
“So, where have you been?”
“Cairo, and then to Iraq.”
“Iraq? How was that?” Achaia didn’t make a habit of watching the news, she was usually too busy packing or unpacking… But she knew enough about the turbulence in the Middle East to be surprised that Naphtali would take a trip there.
“It was a bit hostile,” he nodded. Achaia took note, again, of the cut on his eyebrow.
“What were you doing there?”
“I had to meet a client. Urgent business, unavoidable.” He shrugged a shoulder as if his stint in a war torn country were no big deal.
“Where’s my dad?” Achaia asked looking at the clock behind her on the stove.
Naphtali’s brow furrowed. “I was just wondering that myself.”
2
Secrets and Lies and Stars in the Skies
“Man is not what he thinks he is,
He is what he hides.”
-André Malraux
Shael’s breath went up before him in a cloud of steam. He hopped down from the fire escape and checked his watch. It was four in the morning. He had spent a majority of the day and, it would seem, most of the night setting up a perimeter around the new apartment. New York was crowded; much more crowded than most of the other cities in which they had taken refuge.
Shael knew he was taking a risk trying something new, but Luc had gotten too close too quickly in Tucson and Tampa. Shael was hoping that if he could clean up the area that they may be able to stay here longer.
Of course, it would be easier if he could just keep Achaia home. The regular routine of her leaving for school and coming home was too easy to track, and her hair made her easily spotted. Shael swallowed hard at the memory of Anna referring to her hair as a curse the last night he had spent with her. He had tried to talk Achaia into homeschooling, but she understandably continued to object. Shael hadn’t made the bargain with Lucifer for his daughter to be a prisoner under house arrest. The whole point was for he
r to have as normal a life as possible.
Shael tugged the cuff of his sleeve down as he walked out of the alley and onto the main street, to cover the blood dripping down from a cut he had sustained from his last opponent. Even at this hour, there were people wandering the streets. He had hunted and set up surveillance systems he modified to specifically pick up demonic activity. He even developed an app for his phone that would alert him of anything out of the usual. He knew he needed to pace himself, and keep a low profile, so he hadn’t tracked every demon he’d crossed. The last thing he needed was Luc catching his scent so soon because all the demons in Manhattan were dropping dead.
Something about New York didn’t feel right. It felt heavy, and dark, and tainted somehow. Shael wasn’t sure if it was the sheer number of people crammed into the city, or if he was being paranoid, but he didn’t like it here. He couldn’t move Achaia again, yet. As much as he didn’t want to arouse Luc’s attention, he didn’t want Achaia to have cause to become suspicious, either. Shael huffed a sigh. He was tired of running, and hiding, and lying. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to just tell Achaia the truth, but the consequences of that were too severe. No. That wasn’t an option.
Shael turned the corner onto Nineth Avenue and into the bar. It was darker inside than it was out, but Shael could see, sitting in one of the duct taped booths toward the back, a tall man with an angular face.
Shael slid into the seat across from him, not relishing the idea of actually touching anything in the establishment. He huffed to himself, thinking of the fact that the humans called this part of town Hell’s Kitchen. “Don’t ever let anyone say you Seraphim don’t have a sense of humor. You picked a nice spot.” Shael said, pulling his cuffs down again before letting only his forearms rest on the edge of the table with his hands clasped above the table’s surface.
“I thought it would be fitting,” the man said coolly. “You wanted to see me?”
“Zephaniah, I need help. This city is way too crowded, and it’s completely infested with demons. I need reinforcements.”
“You chose this place.” Zephaniah said, his ice-blue eyes staring emotionlessly into Shael’s.
Shael knew that Zephaniah wasn’t just talking about the city, but Shael’s current situation. “I did. But she didn’t.” Shael hated begging, but for Achaia’s safety, he would stoop to just about anything. He hated that he couldn’t protect her the way he should, that he was weak as a human. Shael’s training was unparalleled, but he didn’t have the speed or ability he once had.
“The Lord has already charged one with Achaia’s safety.” Zephaniah scooted toward the edge of his booth to leave. “But we can do nothing for you. You made your choice,” he added, standing. “Achaia has a Guardian?” Shael said scooting out of his seat and standing in front of Zephaniah before he could leave.
“Yes.” Zephaniah confirmed. “He was charged this past evening.”
Shael breathed a sigh of relief. “Wait. Who is it?” Shael asked, panic beginning to blossom in his chest. He knew all the Nephilim, but there were only a select few who wouldn’t begrudge having to protect the daughter of Shael ben Yahweh. Shael didn’t want the Council knowing where he was, any more than he wanted Lucifer to know. He gave himself a mental rebuke for having made so many enemies over the millennia.
Without answering, Zephaniah side-stepped around Shael, and was gone. Shael hated Seraphim sometimes. Some of them were so self-righteous since the fall of the Nephilim. He glanced at his watch again, it was nearly five-thirty. As he left the bar, he wasn’t as reassured as he had hoped he’d be. In fact he was more nervous, now. Depending on who was charged with Achaia’s protection, her guardian could be more dangerous than Luc.
Achaia woke up the next morning in her bed, with no memory of how she’d gotten there. Her best guess being that she’d fallen asleep on the couch and Naphtali had carried her to her room.
Naphtali… Achaia stood, shakily at first. She walked from her room, running her fingers through her hair, the tips getting tangled in her curls. In the living room, a pillow and disheveled blanket lay on the couch. Naphtali must have stayed the night.
A movement at the counter startled her. “Dad?” Her father sat at the counter. The dark bags under his eyes told her he hadn’t slept. “Where were you last night?”
“Oh, you’re up,” he said turning his attention toward her. He looked as if he’d been straining himself to hear something outside their walls, perhaps eaves-dropping on one of their neighbors.
Achaia casually meandered over to the window to look out. There was a man kissing his wife goodbye before getting into his car, some little kids jumping rope, and a cat on their fire escape. Nothing out of the norm.
“Are you alright?” Achaia asked, turning back around. Again, his attention was elsewhere. “Dad!”
“Huh? What?” He mumbled stirring in his seat; still when he looked at her, it was as if he wasn’t really seeing her.
“Nothing, I guess. You’re just acting strange, that’s all. And where were you last night? We waited for hours…”
“Some stuff came up.”
“Work?” Achaia attempted to pry deeper.
“Yeah.” he looked back down at his newspaper, shrugging off any further conversation. It was easy to tell he wasn’t reading it, but it was his way of letting her know that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It was clear he wasn’t going to give her any more information.
Achaia poured herself a bowl of cereal and ate in silence waiting for the mood to pass. He did this from time to time, mostly after something with work caused him to miss out on sleep. He was always weird, high strung and awkward when sleep deprived. It didn’t normally last long though. Today, however, the mood wasn’t passing. In fact, he was getting worse.
He stood from his stool at the counter and began pacing in front of the window, then by the door. He was on high alert for something.
“Are you waiting for someone?” Achaia had asked at one point; her question went unnoticed.
“Go get ready for school,” was all he said.
“If you don’t calm down, you’re going to give me an anxiety attack.” Achaia dropped her cereal bowl not so gently into the sink, making her father jump. She wasn’t hiding the fact that she was over his attitude, as she fixed him with a defiant look before she turned and walked down the hall to her room.
Achaia got dressed for school quickly, ready to be out of the house. Hopefully he’ll be over whatever it is by the time I get home. She scampered down the six flights of stairs and stopped in the coffee shop on the first floor for a latte before heading down the street to the bus stop. The couple of blocks walk, she spent lost in thought. She didn’t even see Naphtali as she passed him on the sidewalk, walking towards her apartment.
Achaia struggled to find her geometry homework, and realized that she had left it loose in her bag. She slammed her book shut and slumped back in her chair. She didn’t have enough time to go back to her locker for it before the class started.
“Hey, what’s up?” Olivier asked, sitting beside her.
“I left my homework in my bag.” Achaia huffed out her frustration. Unable to believe her absentmindedness.
“I’ll get it,” Olivier offered standing.
“Class starts in like, thirty seconds.” Achaia said with a huffed laugh, dismissing the offer.
“I’m fast.” Olivier was already halfway to the door before he finished speaking, and was out of sight just as quickly.
In hardly any time at all the bell rang, and Olivier was stepping inside the door, Achaia’s homework in hand. He took his seat again next to her, not even short of breath.
“How did you—”
“I told you I’m fast,” Olivier smiled. “And your locker is just down the stairs.”
“I was going to say, ‘know my locker combination.’”
“Oh,” Olivier smirked, “well that is a completely different set of skills.” He winked and handed her assig
nment over with a bow. “My lady.”
Achaia wanted to smile as she took the paper, but it wouldn’t come.
“What’s wrong?” Olivier’s smile faded.
“Okay everyone!” Mrs. Welch interrupted. “Let’s settle down and get started, shall we?”
Achaia winced in apology by way of an answer, and re-opened her text book as class began.
Achaia was lost in thought staring at the space of wall behind Mrs. Welch’s head when the bell rang and she realized she hadn’t heard a single word the entire hour. Her book wasn’t even open to the correct page.
“Achaia?”
Achaia blinked and looked up at Olivier who was waiting for her by the door.
“Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” Achaia said shutting her book, and gathering up her things to join him. They left the room last, and melted into the flow of students crowding the stairwell.
“So, I’m assuming you didn’t glean much from today’s lesson.” Olivier practically hopped down the first few stairs and looked back up at her. “Do you want to tackle the homework together tonight? I might be able to recap the highlights.”
“There were highlights?” Achaia asked sarcastically. She had only caught every other word, as she was struggling to rearrange her hastily snatched up books under her arm while simultaneously descending the last few stairs. “Tonight?” She repeated, stopping.
“I mean unless you want to hand it in late, on purpose, really stick it to the man!” Olivier mocked, leaning against the stair rail at the bottom. Other students bumped passed them into the hall beyond.
“Oh, no. I mean, yeah. Homework. Tonight. Yes.” Achaia nodded, finally looking back up from her juggling to meet his eye. She resumed her descent of the stairs. “I live above a coffee shop, it’s pretty good. Do you want to meet there after dinner?”
“Sounds good,” he said as they reached her locker. “Text me the address,” he handed her a slip of paper before continuing down the hall to exchange his own books.
Transgression Page 4
