by Nia Shay
"Jandra," he murmured, his breath warming my cheek. Some of the tension had gone out of his posture, though his arms stayed tight around me.
I felt oddly at peace in his embrace, as I had for those fleeting moments when he'd held me the night before. These arms had been my sanctuary so many times in the past. A place to hide from myself, to ride out my emotional storms. I'd once clung to him as a rock while the tidal waves of youth had battered at my heart, trusting in his stability, his resiliency against such petty mortal concerns. God, how I'd missed that feeling.
But things were different now. Gone were the stoicism and detachment. His pulse pounded as fast as mine, his breathing becoming quicker and shallower with each passing second. "Relax," I told him.
"I can't." His words came out in a gasp. "I...."
"Ssh." I hugged him tighter, sliding my hands down to the small of his back, away from the scars. It agitated me to touch them, and my agitation wouldn't help soothe his. I began to rub slow circles over the smooth skin, projecting my desire for calm. Not quite the same as sending calming thoughts, but it was the best I could manage right now.
"Jandra." A shudder ran through him at my touch, racking me as well. "I want to kiss you."
His words jolted me back to reality. What the hell? I hadn't been trying to lead him on, I'd just wanted...what? To comfort his fear, and be comforted myself. Well, I'd screwed that up royally.
His parted lips hovered ever closer. "Please, Jandra."
"No way." I slid a hand between us, pressing him back. "But thank you for actually asking permission this time."
"I feel like I'll die if I don't." He met my gaze deliberately. "I've never stopped wanting you, my Jandra. Even when I couldn't feel, I could always remember. The warmth of your body against mine, the taste of your lips...."
"Stop it!" I leaned away, though the circle of his arms allowed me no escape. "I am not yours, damn it. Stop saying that!"
He sighed. "I still don't understand."
"I don't expect you ever will. Now let go of me!"
He complied, finally, and I fell back on my butt with a thump. I gasped for breath as every nerve ending in my treacherous body blazed to life, begging for more of his touch. I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms.
"Why?" he whispered raggedly, his eyes burning as he stared at my heaving chest. "Why do you deny me when we both want the same thing?"
"Because you used me!" I wailed, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. "You took me when I was vulnerable and played me like a violin. I was a virgin, Zeph. I didn't know what sensuality was until you showed me. And by now you've mixed me up so badly I don't even know what I want anymore."
"You desire me. I can feel it as plainly as I can see you sitting before me." His voice held a thread of his power--probably involuntarily at this point, but nonetheless I could feel myself softening, bending toward him.
"I can't help it! You make me desire you. It doesn't matter how I feel about it."
"But it does." He reached out and stroked his hand along the curve of my cheek, indifferent to my flinch. "It does. I want your love, Jandra. More than I've ever wanted anything."
"What is 'want'?" I demanded bitterly. "What is 'love'? Can you tell me?" Silence. Sighing, I added, "Hell, I don't even know anymore. If I was ever certain of anything, you took it away from me."
"I didn't...."
"Damn it, I'm not talking about this anymore." I rose unsteadily to my feet. "You crossed the line once, and you're not getting another chance. Deal with it."
"Jandra...."
"No!" I wrapped my arms around myself in a vain attempt to calm my body's reaction. "Put your clothes on and go downstairs. The twins are here. They want to talk to you."
I didn't wait to see if he actually did as I asked. I fled into the bathroom across the hall. Turning the cold tap open all the way, I leaned over the sink and splashed water over my face until my skin ran with goose bumps. Meanwhile, I groped for control as I'd been taught in my training--breathe deeply and evenly, empty the mind, and wait for the pulse to slow.
Vertigo whirled through my head, as suddenly it had the night before. I gripped the edge of the vanity for support and cursed under my breath. The color visibly faded from my eyes as I watched in the mirror, their warm gray-green lightening to a hollow color like an old-fashioned glass bottle.
Breathe deeply and evenly! I repeated the mantra in a mental shout, all the while hating myself for falling back into old patterns, calling upon the skills the Society had drilled into my brain. I didn't want to sink any deeper into the past, but neither would I call on Zeph for help. Not after what had just happened.
Thankfully, the dizziness began to ebb before too long. After soaking my face with cold water again for good measure, I toweled off. My pajama top had gotten completely drenched, so I stripped and picked up the outfit I'd left in here on the night of Zeph's arrival. I left off the camisole and buttoned the oversized shirt all the way to my throat.
Though I didn't feel ready in the least to face him again, I stepped out into the hall. The adjacent door stood open, showing a neatly remade bed in an empty room. Good. I switched off the light and went to join the others downstairs.
Eleven
In the time I'd been gone, the twins had turned the living room into a miniature hurricane of photocopies, computer printouts, and notebook paper. A leather-bound Bible sat in the middle of the coffee table, propped open with the ceramic gargoyle figurine the girls had given me for my birthday last year.
"This is nice." I fingered the gilt-edged pages.
Cara glanced up from a sheet of handwritten notes. "Grannie Annie sends us one every Christmas. And on our birthday."
"Hmm." I looked to Zeph, who sat straight as a ramrod in the armchair across the room. His expression showed no hint of the waves of consternation I felt from him. I wondered how much of that had to do with Sara's rapt gaze on his face--she stared at him as if he were the last coconut on a desert island. A sly watchfulness lurked beneath Cara's apparent indifference, too. I wondered if I'd missed something.
"So, what have you figured out?" I asked, mostly to break the heavy silence.
Sara cleared her throat. "Well, there's definitely a clear distinction in the Bible between the Watchers, who were angels, and the nephilim, who were the half-angels." She glanced at him again. "You really don't know which you are?"
He hunched his shoulders. "No."
"Hmm. That's too bad, because it's a pretty important difference. It seems destroying the nephilim was one of God's primary reasons for sending the great flood."
"According to this translation, anyway," Cara cut in, "and the personal biases of whoever had hold of the Church's strings at the time."
I raised an eyebrow at her tone. "And you call me jaded?"
She shrugged. "All I'm saying is, the true Word of God was handed down in times immemorial. This," she tapped the open Bible, "has been written by the hand of man, over and over again, for thousands of years. Ever play the Telephone Game for ten minutes?"
"Point taken."
"I trust this," she added fiercely, thumping a fist against her chest, above her heart. "This, I know is God's original handiwork."
Zeph smiled at her. "You are strong in your faith. That's good."
"Um, yeah." She looked away, the suspicious beginnings of a blush coloring her cheekbones.
"Anyway, I can understand why you'd prefer not to be called nephilim," Sara continued. "They get a pretty bad rap. One of these sources translates the word to mean 'those who cause others to fall.'"
"That's not true." His eyes lit with the fervor of certainty for an instant, but went vague again. "We were a gift," he concluded.
Sara smiled shyly at him. "I think so, too."
"Oh, gag me." Cara shoved her sister across the couch cushions. "The best we can figure, there shouldn't be any more Watchers left on Earth. A few were forgiven and allowed to return to Heaven, but the rest were, and I quote,
'cast down to Hell, and delivered into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment.' So at least as far as the texts are concerned, it's way more likely you're a nephilim, sorry to say. We know they were still around after the flood, for however much sense that makes. They're scattered into different tribes in the later books: Rephaim, Anakim. Some people even identify them with incubi."
"What's that?" Sara asked, craning her neck to peek at the papers in her sister's hand.
Cara handed a sheet over, pointing. "An incubus is a demon that gives women dirty dreams and feeds on their lust."
"That's not right, either." He frowned. "Demons eat flesh."
She blinked at him. "Trippy. So you mean demons are real, too?"
"Of course. All things exist in balance. Ideally."
"So the Watchers were punished for upsetting the balance?" Sara asked.
I shrugged. "For what it's worth, the modern-day Watchers disappeared off the map for quite a while, too. Not into Hell, though--they were taken into protective custody by a secret society."
"Yeah, you keep mentioning 'the Society.'" Cara turned a curious look on me. "What's their story?"
"Can't tell you much, unfortunately. Like I said, they're a secret society. As in very secret."
"So you don't even know who you were working for all those years?"
I rolled my eyes. "Hello? Conscripted in grade school, remember? I didn't exactly get to meet my union rep."
"Well, does this society have a name?"
"The Light of Justice," Zeph answered before I could.
"Oh, really? 'Cause I've always called them the Fairlight Society."
He nodded at me. "A more recent invention of the name."
I'd never heard the less recent version before. "Whatever. All I know is they're part Church, part military, and probably a few old billionaires writing the checks. They've taken it upon themselves to 'protect the Sons of God,' though it's more like they protect the Sons of Man from the Sons of God."
"That's an accurate description," Zeph mused. "But remember, it was they who discovered the potential bond between Watcher and Warden. If not for that, we might be little more than prisoners in this modern world."
I shrugged. "They're good for a few things, I guess, but most of the operatives I've dealt with are basically assholes."
Sara snorted. "You think everyone's an asshole."
"And how often am I right?"
"They have wronged me greatly," he went on, oblivious to our exchange, "and yet, I owe them much."
"Well, isn't that mystical?" I shook my head, turning my attention back to the twins. "If you don't mind my asking, brats, why are you so interested in all of this anyway?"
"'Cause it's cool," Cara replied automatically, without even glancing up from the Good Book.
"And because you helped us," Sara told Zeph. "So we wanted to help you, too. Isn't it awful not to know who you really are, or where you came from?"
He looked surprised. "It's bearable most of the time. I rarely think about it."
"Well, it'd totally drive me bonkers," Cara said. "How can you not wonder?"
He smiled. "Like you, I must trust I'll be shown the right path."
"My point being," I interrupted loudly, "there's no sense getting attached. He's leaving tonight."
Sara's face fell. "You are?"
He raised a questioning eyebrow at me. "I am?"
"Well, there wasn't a good moment to mention it upstairs," I said pointedly, "but yes. We're meeting your contact for dinner at six."
"I see." He sighed heavily. "I suppose it's for the best. I fear what you might discover in my memories if you were to look deeper."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer me, looking instead at Sara. "Why do you weep?"
"Because I'll miss you." She sniffled. "Do you have to go?"
"Oh, for hell's sake. You just met him!"
"So?" She glared at me. "He's already been nicer to me than most of the people I've known my whole life."
Cara hugged her twin to her side and regarded me seriously. "She's right. Our own father would have stood there and watched Kevin beat us up the other night, and told us it was our own fault for being such godless whores."
"Oh, sweetie. That bad?" Guilt-ridden, I knelt before the couch and wrapped an arm around each of them. To my surprise, neither girl pulled away. "Forget everything I just said. See? I'm an asshole, too."
That elicited a watery giggle from Sara. "Apology accepted."
"Damn it, did I just apologize again? That's twice in one day. In my own house and everything. See, this is why I never have people over."
"Very funny, boss." Cara pushed me away, but she smiled as she did it. "We love you, too."
Laughing, I got to my feet only to collide with Zeph, who now stood behind me. As I moved aside, he laid a hand on each twin's shoulder. "Thank you," he said gravely, "but don't waste your tears on me."
The girls rose as one and embraced him between them. "We like you," Cara growled. "Deal with it."
"You're an angel to me, no matter what anyone else says," Sara sniffled.
He smiled softly down on them. "The burden of eternity is a heavy one," he said. "Jandra believes that is why I lose so many of my memories, because there is too much suffering in this world to be borne all at once. But moments like these...." He hugged them. "These are the ones that don't fade away. You have been kind to me, as well. I will never forget you."
Both girls were crying in earnest by now. The tough-as-nails twins falling apart before my very eyes--unbelievable. I looked sideways at Zeph, asking, "You're not messing with their minds again, are you?"
"No," all three replied in varying tones of offense.
So shut up, Jandra. Sighing in defeat, I sat down and waited as they said their tearful goodbyes. Then the girls gathered up their books and papers and left us.
After seeing them to the door, Zeph returned and sat at the opposite end of the couch. His eyes were intent on my face. "So, this will be goodbye for us as well."
"Yeah. So it will."
"I suppose you'll be relieved to be rid of me?"
If he'd asked me that on Wednesday night, my answer would have been a resounding yes. Before he'd touched me, before he'd made me question the past, yes. I'd wanted him gone more than anything.
But now I couldn't help but feel torn. Couldn't help wondering what might have happened if we'd spent more time together, explored these new developments. That in itself gave me my answer--separating from him again wouldn't be any kind of relief. It would eat at me just like it had the first time.
All the better, then, that he'd be gone soon. I'd make a clean break of it before things got any more complicated than they already had. If I could survive the next few hours, I'd be back in very familiar territory, alone and nursing a wounded heart.
"And this will be an end to it?" he asked, punctuating my thoughts to perfection.
Damn it, I wasn't used to having my mind read anymore. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you asking if I'll keep in touch?"
He grunted. "Would you?"
"No. If I wanted to be pen pals, I'd have given you my address when I moved in here."
He fell silent for a moment, then slid across the cushions, closing the distance between us. "I...I want you to know that I'm sorry, Jandra." He laid a hand on top of mine.
"For what?"
"For the way things have been between us. For all the pain I've caused you."
He meant it, too. My eyes went wide, but I fought to keep any other signs of reaction off my face. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Because you don't want to hear what I truly want to tell you."
Yeah, if it was any more of that I-love-you crap, he had that right on the money. But this...this was almost worse. God, I had to say something before he kept talking. "You don't even know what remorse is, so save it, okay?"
His eyes narrowed. I'd begun to squirm under the weight of his gaze by
the time he spoke again, his tone soft and resigned. "If that's what you believe, Jandra."
"You gonna argue with me?" I shot back. My own voice came out soft and breathy, robbing my words of their potency.
"No. I'm not." His fingers squeezed mine briefly before he released them and stood. He faced the front door, though his gaze had gone distant and unfocused. "Only consider this, if you would. Consider how much I have to regret in the days of my life I can remember. Consider how many other regrets have surely been lost to the winds of time."
"Yeah? So?"
His eyes flashed back to my face, bright enough to make me blink. "So, even if I have only recently become acquainted with remorse, do you truly believe I don't understand it?"
My mouth hung open, but I couldn't seem to remember what I'd intended to say. I closed it again.
"What do you suppose I've been thinking about in the quiet of night, while you sleep?" Zeph asked. His eyes had gone dark again, but he wasn't seeing me any more than he'd been looking at the door.
I wanted to snap at him, say something--anything--to make him change the subject. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. What a wonderful moment for my bitterness to fail me. Finally, I whispered, "What, Zeph?"
"Would you believe me if I told you that I, like the twins, have been wondering why I was made?"
"What do you mean?"
He sighed again, sharply this time. His hands twitched at his sides in a restless gesture, as if he would've liked to throw them up in the air. "What have I to show for centuries of existence?" he asked. "A patchwork of things half remembered, many of them horrible, none of them redeeming. I cannot find purpose in it, no matter how hard I try."
"Really? You, who just gave that moving speech about faith?"
"That's just it. Once I found my solace in the times between, when I was capable of feeling nothing. Now...I don't know." His shoulders slumped. "Perhaps I'm growing weary of this world. Or perhaps I'm finally going mad."
My breath hitched in my throat. "Don't say that." The Society didn't look kindly on insane dark angels.
