Iron Inheritance

by G. R. Fillinger

  I leapt in front of the diner, slamming my shoulder into the shiny hot metal, spreading out my arms even though I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. It couldn’t.

  But it did.

  The moment my back hit the wall, Procel’s eyes widened, and the ball of energy dissipated. He rubbed his chest and turned away so I couldn’t see his face.

  Josh ran to my side, disbelief etched into his blue eyes.

  “Nice move, love,” Procel called over his shoulder with his back still turned. “Tell you what, I can see it’s a fight you want, so let’s make a date of it. Meet me at the hell mouth in three hours. If you don’t come, I’ll kill him, your little Patron friends, and generally everyone else in a twenty mile radius,” he said bitterly, still not facing me directly.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Come with me now, and I’ll call it off. Don’t, and I’ll kill all the people you still love and torture you until you agree.”

  “Why not just take me now?” My eyes locked on his retreating back as he stepped up into the cloud and left his earthly mirage behind. He was all darkness again, even as the cloud began to dissolve.

  I couldn’t see his face, but his yellow eyes seemed to smile before they disappeared completely. “Free will’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “We need to get back to headquarters,” Josh said, his cold, soldier stare back in full uniform. “Procel’s a Fallen—he won’t stop. He’s going to come after the rest of them, no matter what.”

  My muscles knotted around my bones, squeezing until they threatened to snap. “I know, but it doesn’t make any sense.” I stepped away and stared at the place where he’d disappeared. “Even if I am a Blood Nephilim—” The words tasted bitter. I wasn’t that kind of monster Finkelstein lectured about—something so powerful even God had them destroyed. “Even if I am what he says and I have all these other talents, why me? Why does he need me so badly?”

  Josh fixed his stare on the sky. “The Fallen are bent on world domination,” he said finally.

  I sighed, a flicker of a smile stretching across my lips even now. “That old thing?”

  “That’s the only reason I can think of,” Josh said, completely serious. “The more power the Fallen surround themselves with, the more powerful they are. Blood Nephilim are powerful, like nuke-a-country powerful.”

  I shook my head, not knowing what to believe anymore. “It doesn’t matter. We just have to get back to the others to warn them.”

  I turned around to find the group of people in the diner staring at us with mouths hanging open, cell phones in hand, bodies cowering behind broken tables and torn curtains for protection.

  “Aliens?” said a shaky voice to my left.

  I turned around and saw a scrawny old man poke his head above some garbage cans.

  “You’re aliens.” He nodded matter-of-factly.

  I almost smiled. If I’d seen what he had, what they all had, I’d think the same thing, then I’d be on the first train out of town.

  Out of town…

  “You guys remember the lightning bolt guy from a few minutes ago?” I said loudly.

  “Was that Zeus?” asked a young girl, her glasses askew, peering out through a broken window frame. “I told you, Mom, it’s the Greek gods. Percy Jackson’s real!”

  “Afraid not, but listen, he’s coming back. If you have a place to go, somewhere far from here, you need to go there now. Tell everyone you see to get out of this area. Get at least fifty miles away.” I looked at Josh to see if that number was enough.

  He shrugged.

  No one moved. All I got were stares and the sound of sirens coming closer and closer.

  “Go, or you’ll be killed!” I yelled, taking a step forward.

  Josh took my hand and pulled me to the car. “You can’t force people to do what’s best for them.”

  “Far away!” I screamed.

  Two people snapped a picture of me.

  My heart pounded as disbelief became anger. After all they’d seen, how could they not believe?

  I looked to the side of the trashcans at a steel dumpster. I could raise it above my head and hurl it at the center of the diner. It’d crash through to the kitchen and scare enough of them away. They’d be safe then, once they were scared.

  And then what would happen if I let that monster inside me out and someone got hurt? Throwing dumpsters at people. Yeah, not such a smart move.

  “Come on,” Josh said softly, locking his hand in mine like they were made to fit. “We have to warn the others.”

  I nodded and got into the car as everything inside me was hollowed out by the inevitable moment when their deaths would be all my fault.

  ***

  The white Spanish exterior of the college seemed to meet us in a matter of minutes. My mind had wandered off to wring out any last drops from the unanswered questions that seeped in and out of my mind, which was little more than a worn kitchen sponge by now.

  “Hold on a minute before we go in,” Josh said as he turned off the engine. The warm yellow light behind the speedometer and radio flickered out.

  He turned to me, his lips calling to me again, his eyes soft. “I think you should tell them your Grandpa must have pissed off Procel when he was president and now he wants you dead.”

  “What?” I shook my head to focus my eyes, my cheeks blushing through what had been on my mind a moment ago. “What do you mean?”

  He tilted his head toward his shoulder, willing me to see the thought before he had to say it.

  “You don’t want me to tell them I’m a Blood Nephilim, that Procel thinks I’m a Blood Nephilim.”

  He nodded reluctantly. “Patrons aren’t very accepting of people who are different. Please, just trust me on this.” He latched his blue eyes on to mine and wouldn’t let go. “Trust me.”

  A soft tap on my window made me jump. Duke was outside looking sheepish and apologetic, his white dress shirt back on and tucked into gray slacks.

  I rolled down the window.

  “Sorry.” Duke bent down. “Are you all right? Everyone got back an hour ago. The Tercets just finished giving their report.”

  “Report?”

  Duke raised an eyebrow. “About Kovac and how he lied about having your mom there,” he said, each word careful and slow. “They said you needed some time to yourself.” He looked over at Josh.

  I pushed the creaking car door open and stepped onto the sidewalk. Josh got out and walked around the back. Was that all they’d told them? Nothing about how I’d lost control? How I’d almost killed Kovac?

  “What else do they need to know?” said Josh.

  “Thirty minutes ago, every bit of demonic activity in the city stopped. Everything. Denisov called all our forces back here.” Duke looked at me like I had the answer. “The Babylonians are planning something, and we have no idea what we’re up against.”

  “Have they interrogated Kovac?” Josh marched forward.

  Duke nodded. “He’s not saying anything yet, but Cody Tercet has been working on him.”

  I expected the courtyard to be packed with people, but instead, the white cement paths and benches lay empty under the dark magnolia trees. It was cold—just before dawn.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “The chapel,” said Duke, leading the way.

  I clenched my jaw. Sure, that’s what we should do. Pray when we didn’t know what the hell was going on. That’d make a difference.

  We went down more flights of stairs and secret passages than I cared to count before coming upon the chapel’s stone walls and stained-glass windows in the underground courtyard. Duke threw open the wooden doors and let me go in first, but both Josh and I hesitated at the threshold.

  It was bigger than it appeared on the outside. There were easily fifty or sixty rows of rich wood pews on either side of the main aisle. A rough stone floor led all the way to the front of the chapel where it spread out and stepped up three times to a la
rge stage with a giant, empty cross affixed to the wall behind it. Screens hung on either side of the cross and showed a map of Los Angeles—each section divided by a different color. Soft golden light lit the stage, but everywhere else blues and reds and greens from the stained glass mixed and spread out like a kaleidoscope over the hundreds of people sitting in the pews.

  Most of them I recognized from classes, but scattered throughout were older Patrons I’d never seen before. One man with graying hair sat in a three-button suit, another in sweats and a Star Wars shirt, his belly popping out of the bottom. A woman in a white lab coat doodled on a notepad, and another woman in an elegant dress jiggled her leg up and down nervously.

  Denisov stood at the top of the stage and beckoned me forward with a wave and a soft, uncharacteristic smile.

  My mouth went dry, and as I walked, each pew rose to their feet and looked at me. My cheeks burned.

  Josh and Duke stayed on either side of me as I walked up the steps to the stage, and Denisov put her hand on my shoulder.

  This just might be scarier than everything I’d seen in the last twelve hours.

  “Brooks.” She spoke to the whole room. “Morales organized some of this for your Grandfather—a remembrance ceremony that should have taken place the moment you got here.” She extended her hand to the front row, where women and men at least sixty years old stood. “But we never did this for your mother.”

  The front row on each side stepped toward the stage and formed a chain of hands that led straight to my shoulders. Ria’s was on my left. Nate was just behind her with Freddy and Miranda on the other side. Everyone in the chapel clasped hands and bowed their heads.

  I held my breath and tried not to let my muscles twitch, unsure what was going on.

  “We remember Solomon Brooks—beloved leader, father, grandfather. We remember Ava Brooks—beloved friend, student, and mother.”

  The words echoed off the stone walls, and I opened my eyes wide as electricity latched on to the back of my neck and flashed image after image across my mind—a slide show of unfamiliar memories and beauty that sent tears running down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying.

  Grandpa in front of a group giving a speech, leading them into battle, teaching a class.

  My mom walking in the courtyard, praying in this chapel.

  I blinked, and my heart fluttered against my ribs. A rainbow of essence intertwined in mid-air above the congregation’s heads. They all still had hands clasped, lips turned up in smiles with their eyes closed.

  I closed my eyes again and saw a hundred lifetimes of memories of my mom and grandpa. Each second that passed meant a hundred more images, and some not even of them, but of the world, of the stars and ocean and mountains.

  And then it stopped.

  I looked up and the whole room shouted, “We remember!”

  I laughed, unable to hold it in any longer, and wiped my cheeks. I could feel each image, each shared memory draining from me, but it was enough. I’d never seen Grandpa or my mom like that, never known them like the rest of these people had.

  It was enough.

  Nate and Ria pulled me off to the side as Denisov took the center podium again.

  “Are you ok?” Ria asked, her face two inches from mine.

  Josh stood next to her, a grin crinkling all the way up through his eyes. “I told you it’s better with more people.”

  I laughed, every part of me a light breeze.

  “Where were you?” asked Nate, arms crossed, already back to his old self.

  “Thank you all for coming here on such short notice,” Denisov said, her voice echoing through the microphone. “We are at a crossroads in relations with the Babylonians. A hell mouth has been opened. Many of our own have been attacked.” She extended a hand to the Tercets and the group gathered around me. Duke stood off to the side somewhat awkwardly with Morales, Finkelstein, and Wright. Morales was all knots under her loose-fitting dress and sweater.

  “And some time ago, all traces of the coming battle vanished. We do not know why, but we must prepare, nonetheless.” Her voice remained steady. “Each of you will be given a section of the city to patrol throughout the coming day. Armor is to remain on at all times. We must wait for the first strike before we can defend.”

  I looked out at the room. It was the same way with all of them—eyes hooked on Denisov’s drug so much that I wondered if she was using her Messenger talent more than they knew.

  But it was a battle they couldn’t win, not this time, not against him.

  I pushed myself away from my friends and stepped up next to Denisov. “I know what’s coming,” I said unevenly, my voice carrying through the microphone and reverberating off the chapel’s walls.

  Denisov’s hawk eyes narrowed, and she tensed her shoulders, half a growl in her throat at my interruption.

  “Kovac didn’t want to kill me; he wanted me to kill him. He was following orders from a Fallen,” I said before I lost the nerve and my mouth dried up again. They had to know the truth.

  A gasp and a whisper ran through the crowd so fast the lights seemed to flicker.

  “A Fallen!” Morales crept to the center of the stage, though still one step below us. “You are sure?”

  Josh spoke up first, his voice carrying without the microphone. “He’s covered in enough scars to command a whole legion—definitely a Fallen.”

  “What does it matter if he has scars?” said Ria, unable to contain herself.

  Morales’ already pale skin went stark white. “Scars represent the sins committed by the Fallen, and each one gives them power. All Babylonians have them—marks of evil on their souls—but only the Fallen display them outright. They are all spirit and no flesh,” she said, almost in a trance, her legs drawing her farther up the stairs until a fiery glare from Denisov made her retreat.

  “There’s more,” I called into the mic, regretting every moment that passed. “He said to meet him at the hell mouth at sunrise or—” I hesitated. “He’ll kill everyone in a twenty-mile radius.”

  Another gasp shuddered through the crowd before the yells.

  “No!”

  “You’re lying!”

  Amid the confusion of all the different conversations in the audience, Morales watched me carefully, her eyes returning to the calculating gears from the first time I saw her. Denisov drew up to her full height and waved once to silence the crowd. They gave it to her instantly.

  “What else, Brooks? What else did he tell you?”

  “I—”

  “The Fallen are nothing if not strategic.” Morales stepped up higher, almost level with Denisov now, not looking at her but keeping her eyes on me. “He would have wanted to make a deal. What are the terms?”

  My body seized. I glanced to Josh, but his face had turned to stone. I wavered.

  “He wants me to join him,” I began.

  Denisov held up her hand to stifle the grumble of disbelief from the crowd.

  “Why?”

  “He wants her to repent. He’s trying to thin out our forces,” supplied Josh hurriedly.

  Denisov nodded at this, but didn’t look at him, her eyes trained intently on me.

  I looked at my friends and the Tercets, the whole crowd of people who had just shown me the joy they’d experienced with my family—my dead family.

  If I left without even telling them, they’d be dead. At least this way they’d have a chance. They’d know what they were up against.

  I turned to Josh one more time and whispered, “Trust me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “I’m a Blood Nephilim,” I said, the words reverberating off the stone walls.

  Silence followed and swallowed all other sound whole. Eyes latched on to me with mouths wide open. Denisov took a step back. Morales nodded. Duke and the Tercets looked as stone-faced as Josh. Ria and Freddy blinked rapidly. Nate shook his head in willful disbelief. Miranda smiled.

  “She’s an abomination!” Someone yelled from th
e middle of the pews as if his words had caught in his throat on the way up.

  I stared out as several more nodded in agreement, faces reddening, eyes bulging wide and beating shame into me.

  Finkelstein’s lectures flooded back into my mind—the painting he projected of the last Blood Nephilim, Lyra, standing in a valley up to her knees in blood, body parts all around, her hand reaching to the sky, head thrown back in ecstasy. That’s what they thought of me, what I would become.

  “Well you’re an abominable Snow Ass, so there!” Ria’s voice cut through the din of disbelief and repulsion, her eyes fiery as she stood at my side.

  Miranda clutched her stomach in silent hysterics from Ria’s comeback. Nate stared at me blankly, his lips parted enough for a whispered “No” with every small shake of his head.

  The crowd squirmed as they turned to one another to whisper, each group with one person keeping their eyes on me.

  “Section leaders.” Denisov’s voice boomed out of her thin frame. “Prepare for an attack on Griffith Park and an evacuation plan for the humans in the radius Brooks indicated. Commander Tercet, I leave it to you.” She nodded to the side of the stage.

  Brody, his thick beard and barrel chest more imposing than ever, lumbered down from the stage and started grumbling at people, his mere presence pushing them back toward the doors.

  Denisov put her hand on my back and guided me off stage through a side door. Ria and the rest of the group—even Morales and Jody Tercet—followed close behind, none of them saying a word.

  Rich wooden lockers with golden nameplates sprang into view as the door swung forward. The same green carpet from the faculty offices upstairs rolled across the floor. In all regards it could have been transplanted from a country club if it weren’t for the swords and axes and sets of knives that lined the walls, each hanging from a well-worn hook.

  “Explain.” Denisov turned on me, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

  The words stuck halfway up my throat. Was I really sure about this? Procel said I was a Blood Nephilim, but was he telling the truth? How could I really know for sure?