“Sweet, and I’m sure they will.” Emile smiled, turning around and seeing the stack of dishes at the other end of the room. There were spoons and pots, and camping plates and cutlery. “She hasn’t stirred at all, has she?” He asked looking over at Amelia.
Yellaina frowned and shook her head.
The door opened letting in a gust of cold air, but otherwise the cabin was fairly warm thanks to the fire. Oliver walked into the room and shut the door tightly behind him. “Noland is cleaning it up outside, dinner will be in soon.” He shook the snow off his jacket and took it off, hanging it on a hook by the door.
“What did you find?” Yellaina asked standing and bringing the dishes over to the fire.
“A buck.” Oliver stated in a matter of fact tone. “Six pointer too.”
“Wow.” Achaia laughed. “Could you sound any more hick?”
“Yeah, laugh now, but you’ll be glad when you’re eating it!” Olivier pointed at her.
Noland came inside with his arms full of meat. “Olivier, go get rid of the rest of it, take it as far as possible. If the wolves smell it they’ll be all over us.” Oliver with a disappointed sigh put his coat back on and went outside.
Noland divided the meat up into the pots Yellaina had washed. “I found some spices and stuff too. I’m not sure if they’re any good, but it’s better than plain meat.” Yellaina said pulling some dusty bottles off the shelf above where the pots had come from. “We’ve got pepper, salt, and garlic…. everything else looks pretty sketchy.”
“That’ll do.” Noland smiled taking the jars from her hand and opening them. He rubbed the meat down with the seasonings and placed the pots over the fire. In another pot he tore the meat apart with a small knife and threw the little chunks of meat back into the pot. He dumped seasonings into the pot and took the pot outside. When he came back inside the pot was nearly overflowing with snow. He put the pot over the fire next to the first one. He turned the meat in the first pot over, and the snow in the second pot began to melt. He shook the second pot, mixing the seasonings and meat into the water.
Olivier came back saying he took the carcass a few miles away and dumped it in the woods. By the time he returned there was stew and garlic venison ready for eating. Venison wasn’t Emile’s favorite, but it was exceedingly better than plane crackers. It was nice to eat something hot.
“So,” Noland started looking up from his bowl of stew to Emile. “Did you find anything today?”
“Nope, no humans around, at least not for miles. I couldn’t feel any.” Emile said simply.
When Noland had looked away satisfied, Emile risked a glance at Achaia, a stern warning in his eyes for her to remain silent. She nodded she understood, and Emile took a deep breath.
“The cabin warmed up nicely today.” Yellaina stated after a moment or two of silence. “I didn’t even feel like I needed my jacket. I vote we don’t open the door unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Agreed.” Achaia consented quickly.
“I’ll third that motion.” Olivier said with a mouth full of meat.
“Alright, no leaving unless it’s to patrol, or hunt. Emile and Achaia are on patrol, every morning, and Olivier and I will hunt whenever we run out of food.” Noland decided.
“You talk like we’re going to be here a while.” Yellaina complained, Emile could feel her pang of disappointment.
“Well, until this weather stops, I don’t see how we’re going to get out of here without freezing to death. We’re here until further notice,” Noland stated bluntly. “When God provides the weather for us to come up with another plan, we will… Until then, maybe he’s giving us the cover to lay low for a little while.”
Yellaina sunk back against the wall next to the fire where she sat, cuddled up with her stew. Emile knew that she disliked being stuck here more than everyone else. Yellaina didn’t care for the cold.
They finished eating with little conversation. Achaia, even without Emile’s talents, could deduce that everyone was tired. After dinner, they poured the left overs all into one pot and put the other pot next to the door to be washed out in the morning.
It was already getting dark outside and with no electricity the cabin was devoid of light save for the light from the fire. Achaia and Noland remade their piles on the floor for beds, and Yellaina covered Amelia up with an extra blanket.
Olivier was already passed out in his bunk with his arm hanging over the rail before the rest of them had gotten into their beds. Achaia supposed he had a right; he had probably run after the deer pretty hard. He didn’t have Noland’s strength. She guessed something like that would have taken a lot out of him. Luckily, with the looks of the left overs and what was left buried and frozen in the snow outside, he wouldn’t need to hunt for a few more days at least.
Achaia lay down on her make-shift bed and covered herself with a couple of quilts. It was much warmer tonight than the night before had been. She rolled over on her side facing away from Noland to reduce awkwardness and shut her eyes.
She thought back to how powerful she felt when she had defended herself. She had moved so fast… She thought about when she was a child and had taken karate, she had been great before her father stopped her. She wondered if maybe he had realized early on that it was her spiritual gift; if he wanted to keep that from her, to hide the fact that she was different, that she was Nephilim.
Noland lay on his back for some time, listening to everyone else’s breathing. One by one, each of the others’ breathing slowed and steadied as they each fell asleep. His own breathing was harder than everyone else; sounding, in comparison, as if he had just run a marathon.
Noland tried shutting his eyes, but they preferred to be open. They scanned the wood boards that made up the ceiling, plaited with cobwebs and dust. The fire danced at his feet. The reflection of the flames on the webs diverted his eyes from sleep.
His mind grew weary but found it impossible to slow down to rest. He tried to scan his brain for the cause, until his mind found the burden impossible to bear anymore. He closed his eyes, finally able to succumb to the exhaustion.
9
Forces of Flight
“She wasn’t doing a thing I could see,
except standing there leaning on the balcony
railing, holding the universe together.”
-J.D.Salinger
Achaia could hear birds chirping outside. She opened her eyes to alarming hues of yellow coming through the window. The sun was significantly brighter than it had been the past week.
She lay in her bundle of blankets warm, snug, and content. She closed her eyes once again and breathed softly. A hand shook her shoulder, beckoning her to open her eyes. Emile stood above her dressed and ready to go.
Achaia sighed and stood to her feet unstable at first. She put on her coat, an extra pair of socks, a beanie, and her shoes and walked out into the chill air. It was warmer than it had been, too, thanks to the sun. There were still clouds in the sky, but not snow clouds. She followed Emile into the woods as had become their custom.
Over the last week Achaia had learned about some of the different weapons, and some basic defense maneuvers. Emile had proven to be a patient teacher, but it was almost unnecessary since Achaia was picking up on everything so quickly. Emile often joked that soon she would be teaching him new moves.
Achaia knew he was joking because as much as she had learned, she was still only learning defensive basics, and the names of weapons, not how to use them. She could now defend herself from someone with a dagger, a knife, or a small blade. But there were still swords, crossbows, regular bows and arrows, and numerous different weapons she still didn’t know; all of which were made out of the mysterious liquefied diamond-like metal, diemerillium.
As they reached the clearing, which had become their usual spot, Emile dropped his duffel bag to the ground with an alarming thud. “Okay. So, before we begin do you have any questions about anything we’ve gone over so far?” Emile unzipped th
e bag and pulled out a crossbow. “If not, I’m going to teach you how to dodge arrows today.”
“Actually, I do. Not about something we’ve gone over, but something we didn’t.” Achaia began. She thought back to the week before, when he had first brought her there. “So the first day we came out here, before you attacked me… your eyes… they looked gray….”
“Well I wasn’t in full battle mind set.” He loaded an arrow into the crossbow. “You remember I told you your instinct takes over?” Achaia nodded.
“Well by instinct, I mean your angelic half. It’s almost a different body within your body. Nephilim are chameleons, shape shifters. We take on the appearance of humans, but this isn’t our natural body. Our angelic nature is a body that is faster, and stronger, with quicker reflexes and a steadier mind. When that nature, or our spiritual body, becomes more dominant, our eyes change color. It depends on your spiritual gift. When I am in full battle mode, my spiritual body’s eyes are white; signifying a blank slate, I am in full control of my power, not only can I feel my opponent’s emotions, but one day I will be able to control them. I’m not that far in my training yet, but I’ll get there one day.” Emile smiled.
“That is awesome! So, do mine change color?” Achaia asked eagerly. She felt childlike, as if she were asking if her superhero costume came with a cape.
Emile gave her a look that was as if he were saying ‘oh yeah!’ with his eyes as he nodded.
“Well, what color?” Achaia asked eagerly.
“Red.” He said pulling the crossbow up and pointing it at her.
Achaia smiled, and wished she had a mirror. “Wait! One more thing.” Achaia said putting her hand up to stop him from shooting.
“Okay…” Emile lowered the bow.
“You said you were breaking a lot of rules and laws to teach me all of this.”
Emile nodded.
“Well—why? Why is it so important that I should know, now? Why can’t it wait until we have permission? I could train with the rest of you.” Achaia lowered her hand to her side and studied Emile’s face. Times like this she wished she had his power, to know what he was feeling—thinking.
“Okay, well for starters, desperate times call for desperate measures. If Luc is after you, which, after the Trevi, I think it’s pretty safe to say he is, we need to be as prepared as possible. His spies are everywhere; anywhere there are humans, there are demons. If something major happens and we can’t be there to defend you, you need to be able to defend yourself, at least to an extent.
“I’m not trying to teach you everything, or really train you, but enough to keep you from dying. I believe it is necessary.” Emile stood for a moment studying her face.
After a moment she felt satisfied with his answer and resolved within herself to train hard.
At that moment he raised the bow and aimed it at her heart. “I want you to dodge the arrow. Don’t think, just react.”
Achaia pulled a dagger from her coat and prepared herself, slowing everything with her mind. The arrow was released and flew toward her at a lightning fast speed, but to her it seemed to crawl. As it reached her, when it was a few inches away from her chest she raised her arm and sliced the arrow with her dagger. The shards fell to the ground, nothing more than splinters at her feet.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” The yell came from behind her. Noland strode towards them with heavy, calculated steps.
Achaia dropped the dagger with a dull thump into the snow. She stood up straight and then turned her eyes to the ground. She felt like she was about to be rebuked by her father.
Emile stood frozen. “I’m teaching her basic defense maneuvers.”
“Basic?” Noland was outraged. His face was glowing against the cool air. “Since when do demons shoot crossbows at sixteen year old girls? These are battle tactics. They are sacred, and you are not designated to teach them. Not to mention, we’re here. Why would she need to know any of this?”
“We can’t defend her all the time, Noland!” Emile took a step forward, not just keeping his ground, but meeting Noland in frustration. “What if something happens? What if we aren’t there? What if we can’t get to her?” Emile was yelling now too.
A gun shot sounded in the distance, some hunters deep within the woods, it seemed to snap Achaia back into reality.
Noland and Emile hadn’t even heard it. They were too busy yelling at each other. Achaia had never seen the two of them fight like this. She hated feeling like the root of the problem. She hadn’t known that Noland would be so against her training. But Emile was breaking the law—it was a big deal. It was her fault he felt like he needed to…
“She doesn’t know our culture, our lifestyle.”
“And if she gets killed she never will!”
“She wasn’t raised a Nephilim! She’s not one of us!” Noland screamed.
A rock dropped in Achaia’s stomach.
Emile stared blankly at Noland. Noland’s face was hard, angry but otherwise emotionless.
Achaia’s brain was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. A tornado of information. She was a burden to him, an inconvenience, nothing more. He didn’t want her there—
Before she knew what she was doing she was running, as hard as she could across the clearing. If he wanted her gone, she’d be gone. She made it into the trees and yanked off her jacket, she could feel it holding her back.
Another gunshot sounded, it was closer this time. She heard footsteps behind her, chasing her.
“Achaia stop!” Noland yelled from behind her, he was catching up to her, there was no denying he was faster.
Achaia pushed harder, she’d never run like this before.
“Achaia stop!” He was still getting closer, he’d catch her at any second. Achaia’s heart leaped. She pushed harder, desperate to get away from him, from everyone, from everything.
Out of nowhere there was a cracking in her back, the sound of bones breaking, and she heard herself yell out. It felt like her back was breaking, but instead of it being painful it felt good, like releasing an unyielding pressure, and then, she was in the air.
“Achaia NO!” Noland yelled from behind her.
She heard the difference in the distance; he’d fallen back. She flew upward, reaching the tops of the trees. A dark cloud of shadows formed on her right in the branches. At first Achaia had thought they were birds, but they were too large to be birds. They barreled toward her like a wave. She raised her arms to shield her face as they collided into her.
The creatures were small but muscular, they had faces with twisted sadistic features. Their hands were small and tipped with claws like razor blades. They reminded her, unpleasantly, of the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz that had terrified her as a child. Only the shadows were worse. They weren’t comical in their special effects shrewdness. Her back slammed into branches, slicing her face, and her arms. The shadows slashed at her, cutting through her clothes, ripping open her skin.
Her ears were flooded with dark whispers that sounded like things you couldn’t see moving in a dark room. Slithering sounding hisses, and creaking laughs, like rusty hinges. They were thick in her ears, a deafening hum. Her mind began to feel like a haunted house, full of invisible terrors.
She couldn’t hear Noland yelling her name. All she could hear was the darkness they whispered; things she had thought herself a thousand times, things she knew to be true: She was a burden, an outlier, unwanted, worthless, unloved… an abomination. Her father wanted to leave her, chose to, he didn’t want to be found. She was going to fail, they were going to kill her, rip her to pieces. She was weak… ignorant, superfluous.
She thought of her dagger she’d dropped in the snow. She fought back, kicking, clawing, punching, they drew back but there were more of them. She hit more branches, her wings getting caught in their twigs, she dropped a few feet, flew higher, she had no idea which way was up. All she could see were the shadows. She screamed in fear and frustration. She tried to beat her wings, to take her
higher, but nothing happened. Then she was falling.
Achaia landed on her gut, bent over a tree branch, the wind knocked out of her. A cluster of the shadows yanked on her legs, causing her to lose her balance, she slipped off the branch, slamming her face against it as she fell. Her back cracked against another branch as she hurdled toward the ground in an uncontrolled summersault, slamming into branches, and shadows as she went.
Then, there were arms around her yanking her what felt like up. She pushed against her captor screaming.
“Stop, Achaia. Stop!”
The shadows swarmed thicker than ever as they cleared the trees like a dense thundercloud, blocking out the sun. She was carried higher. The demons clasped and cut, like lightning striking her arms and face.
Achaia kicked out at them. She was falling again.
Achaia was dizzy with disorientation. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t falling. She was. She was falling up. Her stomach turned. There was light.
She opened her eyes and realized that Noland was holding her tight, pulling her into him. He flew upward. They were way above the trees yet he kept going. The shadows were still in pursuit. Achaia tried to focus on something, anything, but her mind could not slow down.
She closed her eyes again, pinching them tight. She buried her burning face into his neck as the bitter air tore into her cuts. Then they stopped. Achaia looked back, the shadows were retreating.
It was freezing, Noland let her go and put her on her feet. Achaia looked down, there was no ground, only white. Only droplets of rain. Achaia grabbed on to Noland’s arm with an intense grip. “What the…” Achaia began. Noland grabbed hold of her waist to steady her. “Are we on a—cloud?”
“Your powers of observation are amazing.” Noland said dryly. “Demons can’t come this close to heaven.” He was holding her close, examining her face. She could feel the droplets of blood cascading down her brow.
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