Transgression

by Brandy C. Ange

  “They pleaded with God. God was merciful on them, but He was also just. So, He let them out of Hell, but they could never return home, to Heaven. Their punishment, their penance, was to remain on Earth and to look over God’s creation; to watch over humans, and to keep them safe because Satan would try to destroy them. He wants to use humans to hurt God as his revenge.” Naphtali paused giving her mind a chance to process everything he was saying. “See, Lucifer always thought that God cared too much for humans, and that in His heart they were over the angels; he envied humans, hated them.”

  Achaia took a breath. She had been scratching her wrist out of nervous habit. In addition to her scratching on the bus, her wrist was now raw.

  “Satan had a right hand man, his greatest warrior, and his best friend. He was the first to betray Lucifer when he learned of his true intentions, the real reason for all the fighting. He led the others to repentance, and petitioned God for their release. Achaia, that was your dad.”

  Achaia breathed in hard, and looked down to the floor, forgetting her burning wrist. “So, you’re telling me that my father– is Satan’s evil henchman?”

  “Was,” Naphtali corrected, “and– yes.”

  “Oh, my God.” Achaia let her knees fall into Indian style, she leaned forward rubbing her face with her hands. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Your father was The Inquirer. He was the one who would be sent out to retrieve information, even if it meant torture. He’s an amazing fighter. That’s why he is called Shael. We don’t have—normal names, in Heaven.”

  “My father is an angel?” Achaia cocked her eyebrow, staring at Naphtali in disbelief.

  “Well, more specifically he’s a Nephilim. There are different breeds of angels. Nephilim are kind of like– supernatural chameleons. They are angels, but they take on the nature of whatever the most powerful thing is they are surrounded by. Nephilim in Heaven take on the nature of God, to an extent, but they could never be God, only representations of God. As such, they are among the highest and most powerful in Heaven. Nephilim, those being cursed to live on Earth, take on human nature. They look like humans, act like humans, but they are more than humans. You are more than human.”

  “But my mom?”

  “Your mom was a human. You are half human, half Nephilim. As far as I know, the only hybrid.”

  “Hybrid—” Achaia mused. “And Satan?”

  “Satan is even more dangerous. He has taken on the nature of demons.”

  Achaia shivered. Somehow finding out that Satan was real didn’t faze her until she found out how close her connection to him was. “So, if this is all real, where is my dad?”

  “Right, okay. So, your dad became a ‘Guardian angel’, if you will. He was the best of the best; he’d never lost a Charge. He knew Lucifer better than anyone, and knew how to combat him. But Lucifer knew him, too. He’s been after him for millennia.”

  “Millennia? How old is my dad exactly?”

  “Ageless. He is among the first The Lord created,” Naphtali said simply.

  Achaia looked down. It was amazing how all the years were coming together in her mind. All the years of not being allowed to talk about God, not watching cartoons where there was an angel on one shoulder and Satan on the other. Never hearing her dad say, ‘what in the devil…’ and watching him flinch every time she said ‘oh my God.’

  “So, what happened?” Achaia looked back up at Naphtali. He looked concerned. The wrinkles in his forehead created by his eyebrows gave him a look of curious disbelief. His eyes penetrating.

  “Okay…” He looked away from her for a second to collect himself before going on. “Today, he found him.”

  “So, you’re saying my dad is…”

  “He’s not dead. No, all the evidence would suggest he is alive. You don’t have to be dead to enter Heaven, Hell or purgatory.”

  “Oh, thank God!”

  “You should. Thank him, I mean.” Naphtali smiled trying to lighten the mood.

  “Oh right, I guess he exists, too.” Achaia tried to wrap her mind around everything he’d told her, but her brain hurt. “I can’t think anymore.” She sighed, rubbing her temples.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in.” Naphtali stood and reached a hand down to her. Achaia looked up in disbelief.

  “I still can’t—I don’t—” Achaia shook her head. “How can you expect me to believe any of this? I need proof.”

  Naphtali nodded. “That’s reasonable. Are you sure you’re ready?” He asked stepping a ways away from her.

  “Does that really matter?” Achaia asked with the sarcasm leaking back into her voice.

  “Fair enough.” Naphtali smiled. He closed his eyes and spread his arms. Slowly his skin began to turn black and char. Flecks of his skin turned to ash and drifted into the air. Between the crevasses of burnt flesh, his veins began to burn red hot, catching his forearms and neck in fiery embers. Before long, he was burning. His hair was a mass of dancing flames, and there was a sword of fire in his hand. His eyes opened, revealing burning coals where his brown eyes had been.

  Achaia scooted away as fast as she could. Staring on in amazement from against the wall. Even from there, she could feel the hair of her arms singed by the heat. “I believe you.” She shouted in surprise.

  Achaia blinked, and before her Naphtali stood as she had always known him. He was back in his jeans with a white t shirt and leather jacket. His dark skin no longer burning, but a honey brown. His black hair, no longer flames, but neatly cropped. And his kind brown eyes looking down on her with pride. “You handled that well.”

  “Yeah?” Achaia asked, still in shock.

  “You didn’t even scream.” He said in a congratulatory tone.

  “You— You were on fire.” Achaia stammered.

  “Naphtali ben Sariel, setting off fire alarms since 1890.” He smiled, hoping for a laugh.

  “You were born in 1890?” Achaia asked.

  “No, that’s when they invented the fire alarm. And my presence became a little more noticeable. I have to be careful nowadays.”

  “Right.” Achaia said nodding. She tried to process the last hour, but her mind was a blank. She simply couldn’t think anymore. “I— I just need—”

  “I know, but we need to get you out of here.” Naphtali said reaching his hand down to help her to her feet.

  Achaia took his hand and stood. He hugged her for a moment. He was surprisingly cool to the touch. Achaia could feel the tears welling up in her eyes; she choked them back with difficulty. She tried in vain to steady her breathing, but she was hyperventilating.

  How could there have been so much I didn’t know. How could he have kept so much from me? There have been so many lies— How am I supposed to figure out how to be…? What am I?

  Noland paced back and forth, treading a path into the carpet in the living room. What could be taking so long? He thought anxiously, checking the time. “What? Did he start with the creation accounts? He doesn’t have to tell her the whole story right now, just enough to get her to come with us. We need to leave.” He looked down the hall way. “Or is she not taking it well?” Noland asked looking back to meet Emile’s eyes.

  Emile smiled at him weakly. “She’s handling it extremely well,” he said sitting down on a bar stool. “But yeah, we need to get going.”

  “I know. We’re ready,” Naphtali said coming down the hall followed by Achaia.

  “Wait. Where are we going?” Achaia asked, looking only mildly confused. Her forehead wrinkled, her eyes vivid, bright. She looked up at Emile.

  Why does she always look to Emile? Noland wondered. He shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure of why it bothered him so much. Her hair fell in bright curly ringlets down to her ribs, and he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she could ever belong to Emile. I’d always pictured someone darker for him.

  Emile looked back at her as he stood. “We need to get you out of here. It isn’t safe.”

  “Well yeah.” Achaia
agreed with a sarcastic grin at Noland. “Especially since someone decided to kick in the locked door.”

  Noland held up his hands as if under fire. “Alright, I get it. Maybe a little rash?”

  “A little?” Achaia looked over at the pile of splinters surrounding the welcome mat.

  Noland just shook his head as if to say what do you want from me?

  Noland watched as she lowered her eyes to the floor and shook her head. She was confused. That was understandable. But he knew they didn’t have time for delay. If he was going to keep her safe, they needed to leave now. “Your dad isn’t coming back here. There isn’t any sense in waiting around for him. Until we can figure out what’s going on, you’re coming with us.”

  Achaia looked up, shredding him to pieces with her eyes.

  Maybe that was a little tactless. He thought about adding something like ‘it’s too dangerous,’ but Emile had already clarified as much. He made a mental note to work on his delivery and develop a filter.

  “Fine, but can I at least have a minute to get a change of clothes?” Her voice was harsh and combative.

  Noland smiled at her temper which seemed to just frustrate her further. He watched as she turned promptly on her heel and walked to her room shaking her head in angst. Glancing over, he realized Emile was looking at him with an amused grin and shaking his head.

  “Good job bro.” Emile laughed. “Ya know, impatience is understandable. I know you have her best interest in mind. But to her, you just look like an ass.”

  Olivier laughed. “You’re good at a lot of things dude. But that wasn’t your finest moment.”

  “Got it. Thanks.” Noland said shortly.

  Achaia could not understand her emotions. This was a lot to take in all at once, but did she really need to be snapping at people she hardly knew?

  Now they’re going to think I’m some hotheaded…. She stopped herself, thinking back to Noland’s tapping foot and annoyed tone. But good grief! Who does he think he is? Commander and chief? Yes, Mr. President. Whatever you say, Mr. President.

  Opening her book bag she dumped all of her books onto the floor. She grabbed a few pairs of underwear, some thick socks, and some t-shirts and shoved them into the bag along with a second pair of jeans and a pair of pajama shorts. Slamming the drawer shut, angry with her own temper, she stomped off to the bathroom.

  Achaia grabbed her toothbrush, toothpaste, and shampoo tossing them carelessly into the bag. She sat on the toilet for a moment and dropped her bag to the floor, holding her face in her hands. “Get a hold of yourself,” she whispered. Just then she felt the weight of someone’s stare. Looking up she saw Emile standing in the doorway.

  “It’s going to be okay. You know that, don’t you? I’m going to see to it.” He knelt down on the floor in front of her. Achaia just nodded. He cupped her cheek in his hand and tilted her chin to look at him. “I know this is a lot. But we really shouldn’t be here.” Achaia nodded again and stood up. Emile followed suit throwing her bag over his shoulder.

  As they left the apartment Achaia forced herself to not look back. Olivier trailed behind her, Emile beside her and they followed Noland and Naphtali who were in deep, hushed conversation.

  Achaia was still annoyed with Noland. He walked with an air of self-confidence that was almost intrusive. How arrogant can you be? You just get a kick out of flustering me. You’re a jerk! She silently berated him.

  Emile chuckled next to her, pulling her out of her inner rant. “What?” she asked looking around as they exited the apartment building and made their way down the street to the subway.

  “Nothing.” He smiled and kept walking without so much as looking at her.

  Am I the butt of all jokes? Is this all just a prank? Why does everyone keep laughing at me?

  “It’s okay. Emile just picks up on stuff that other people don’t quite get,” Olivier said from behind her, coming up to her left.

  “Great. As if I don’t feel out of the loop as it is.” She sighed. Noland and Naphtali had already stopped at the entrance to the subway.

  “Well, I’ll meet up with you–” Naphtali was saying as they reached them. “Until then…” Naphtali just looked Noland hard in the face.

  “I know. I’ll take care of her,” Noland answered his look with confidence, as if there was no chance of him ever screwing up. With one stiff nod Naphtali turned to walk the opposite direction down the street.

  “Wait, where are you going?” Achaia called after him.

  “I have something I need to do. You stay with them. They’ll take care of you,” he said with what she guessed was supposed to be a comforting smile.

  Achaia ground her foot into the pavement. She had felt more comfortable with Naphtali there. Now, with him walking away, she didn’t like the idea of staying with these people she hardly knew, being mocked. There was so much she still didn’t know. She looked over at Noland who was watching her, impatiently. She could tell he was ready to take off.

  It really didn’t help that he had an obvious attitude problem.

  5

  Diamonds aren’t a Girl’s Best Friend

  “Why not go out on a limb?

  That’s where the fruit is.”

  -Mark Twain

  Reluctantly, she followed them down the stairs into the subway station. Emile kept a steady hand on her back. She wondered if it were there to comfort her, or to keep her from running away. She had thought about it, but Olivier was definitely faster than her, and she had nowhere to go.

  They rode the train, sitting in silence, to the other end of town. They got off down the block from an old cathedral. Achaia had tried to ask where they were going, but none of them would answer, they just eyed the people around her, like they were all spies not to be trusted. She was beginning to think she was with a bunch of schizophrenic lunatics.

  As they climbed the stairs out of the station it had started to sprinkle. The tiny drops of water hit her skin like bullets of ice.

  They took off down the street toward the church. It looked out of place and molested with its Neo-Gothic architecture tainted by the modern metal handrails scaling its steps. Its door was painted a bright red, standing out from the cool stone that formed its walls. Most of the windows were stained glass, but there were a few that were plain and coated with cobwebs.

  They walked in through the front door. There was some kind of service going on, but the others didn’t seem to care or respect that. The people in the sanctuary, though, didn’t seem to notice them, not even as they clamored up the stairs in the back of the room. They passed a few women upstairs who didn’t look at them twice before they entered an office. There was a priest sitting behind the desk.

  “Oh, hello.” He sounded only mildly alarmed. He looked to be as old as the building and spoke with a mousy voice. “Here.” He pushed his chair back and stood. He then proceeded to pick up his chair and move it over by the window.

  “Thanks,” Noland said walking over behind the desk and getting down to his knees. Achaia heard a loud creak followed by a thump before Noland’s head reappeared above the desk. “Come on.” He grunted before disappearing again.

  Achaia sighed, he sounded agitated– or was she just reading into his tone because that’s how she felt. She wondered where there possibly was to ‘come on’ to, behind a desk. As she rounded the desk behind Olivier, however, she noticed that Noland wasn’t there. There was a hole in the floor underneath the desk. Olivier smiled at her and dropped himself into it; it seemed to only be about three feet deep.

  “It’s very James Bond isn’t it?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her as he knelt down and vanished into the dark, humming the Bond theme music.

  Emile, who was standing behind her, offered her a hand and helped her down into the hole. Hitting her head on the desk on her way down, she swore. Achaia looked up to the priest apologetically; he just shrugged and smiled down at her. Emile patted her head with his other hand and chuckled.

  “Follow Olivier. I’
ll be right behind you.” Achaia knelt down. The tunnel was made of rotting wood and smelled moist and musky.

  “Where does this lead?” She crawled forward, following the shadow in front of her created by the light seeping in through the floorboards above her head.

  As expected, she didn’t receive an answer. She was starting to feel claustrophobic in the two foot wide passageway before they reached another drop in the floor. The passage widened slightly where it dropped off, and Olivier maneuvered around to jump off the ledge, landing silently. He stood with his chest up to the edge when Achaia reached him, offering her both his hands. She slid down into his arms, landing with a dull thud at the top of a stairway.

  They walked slowly and cautiously down the staircase, which creaked with each step they took. Achaia could feel the boards giving under her weight on each step and was convinced that one of the stairs was bound to give completely. Thankfully, they made it to the bottom without any of the stairs, or their bones, breaking.

  Noland was there waiting for them, in what appeared to be a cellar of some sort. Only, instead of bottles of wine, an assortment of weaponry hung on the walls.

  There was a variety of swords and daggers, crossbows and whips. There were also weapons Achaia didn’t recognize or know the names of, but looked even more dangerous.

  “Hey,” Yellaina said from the corner, where she stood with a duffel bag in hand. She had been shoving weapons into it and looked way too perky to be in such a room.

  At this point, Achaia was beginning to expect the ridiculous, and she wasn’t at all surprised to see Yellaina and Amelia there.

  “So we’ve got the passports, tickets, and all the arrangements taken care of. He’s in the Vatican, so we shouldn’t have a problem tracking him down.” Amelia held her own duffel bag in one hand and raised a hand-full of boarding passes in the other.