by T. Frohock
DEDICATION
For all of you—the people who have supported me and followed me and talked about my books online . . . you know who you are. This one is for you.
CONTENTS
Dedication
Author's Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by T. Frohock
Copyright
About the Publisher
AUTHOR’S NOTE
We all read a lot of books—a lot of them—and it’s difficult to remember who’s who from one installment to the next. However, from the author’s perspective, having characters rehash information among themselves can drag on both the pacing and the story.
As a compromise, I’m including a very brief refresher of the events and people in the first two Los Nefilim novellas, In Midnight’s Silence and Without Light or Guide.
Since Los Nefilim is turning into a serial, I thought we’d do like the old radio programs from the 1940s. So here we go:
In our first exciting episode, we learned . . .
•Los Nefilim are a group of angel-born Nefilim that monitor daimonic activity for the angels. All Nefilim reincarnate and retain memories of their past lives with the firstborn life being the most important.
•Diago is a rarity amongst the Nefilim. His mother was an angel, who took her mortal form to give birth to him; his father was a Nefil, whose parents were daimon. Neither the angels nor the daimons were able to replicate the experiment and create another Nefil like Diago, who carries the magic of both the angels and the daimons in his song.
•Because of the singularity of Diago’s magic, both the angels and the daimons have courted Diago to join their respective side. However, Diago remains neutral in the conflict. He tries to live as a mortal and eschews his magical nature. He finds a job in Barcelona, teaching piano to Enrique Ferrer, the spoiled son of the industrialist Salvador Ferrer.
•When Diago lived in Sevilla, he was seduced by an angel named Candela. When she became pregnant, she released him from her enchantment, but she never told him about his son, Rafael. Now, six years later, an angel, who calls himself Beltran Prieto, found Rafael.
•Prieto enlists the help of Diago’s landlady, Doña Rosa Iniguez, and her son José to kidnap Miquel. He then forces Diago to offer Rafael as a sacrifice to the war daimon Moloch, in exchange for the idea to a powerful bomb. Miquel makes a golem that looks like Rafael in an attempt to steal the idea and give Moloch the golem.
•When Diago takes the golem to Moloch, he finds his father, Alvaro, who abandoned Diago when he was a child. Alvaro has sold his body and magic to the daimon Moloch. In return, Alvaro avoids the pain of reincarnation and serves Moloch. Moloch changed Alvaro into an ‘aulaq, a vampire, and gave him eternal life.
•Alvaro realizes that Diago is trying to trick Moloch with a golem, but he lies to Moloch and says the sacrifice is true, giving Diago the chance to flee the daimon before the deception is discovered.
•Diago, Rafael, and Miquel barely escape with their lives. It is Rafael’s song that saves them, and the child gravely wounds the daimon Moloch. Knowing the daimons will now be after Rafael, Diago chooses a side in the war and vows his allegiance to Guillermo and Los Nefilim.
WITHOUT LIGHT OR GUIDE
Three weeks after the events of In Midnight’s Silence . . .
•All of the Nefilim are able to see color in the sound waves around them—this ability enables them to work their magic—but the vampire that bit off Diago’s finger was one of the old ones known as the ‘aulaq, and the older the ‘aulaq, the more potent their venom. Due to the amount of toxin in his blood, Diago now suffers from chromesthesia, and his natural faculties have been amplified to the point of disability.
•In spite of his new disability, Diago has otherwise recovered from his fight with Moloch’s ‘aulaqs. He is determined to do his first job for Guillermo—find out information about the industrialist Salvador Ferrer’s political allegiances.
•Guillermo partners Diago with another Nefil, Inspector Juan Garcia, who Guillermo has embedded in Barcelona’s Urban Guard. Garcia and Diago hate one another, but Guillermo believes that working together will at least get them to respect one another.
•Diago and Garcia go to the Ferrers’ apartment while Guillermo and Miquel go to see Diago’s former landlady, Doña Rosa Iniguez, and her son José. Guillermo is determined to pick up the trail of Beltran Prieto, the angel in possession of an idea for a dangerous bomb, but who has since disappeared.
•At the Ferrers’ apartment, Diago discovers a fragment from an ancient manuscript hanging on the wall. The fragment is a gift from José Iniguez, who wants to invest in Ferrer’s company. This piques Diago’s interest, because he never knew José to be interested in anything other than drinking and carousing.
•After the meeting, Garcia takes Diago to Guillermo. He and Miquel are at Doña Rosa’s house. José has murdered Doña Rosa and the other tenants in the house. The police escort José to the insane asylum, Holy Cross.
•Diago examines the evidence José left behind and realizes they are dealing with a daimonic possessor. He suspects that the possessor invades the homes through the fragment that José gave to Ferrer. Diago recommends getting the fragment out of the Ferrer household before something terrible happens to the Ferrers. Guillermo sends his best thief, Amparo, to steal the fragment from the Ferrers.
•The next day, Guillermo and Diago go to the asylum to see if Diago can divine the daimon’s name from José’s mind. Diago sees Garcia talking to a German angel.
•The Ferrers’ maid, Elena, is possessed by the daimon. She disguises herself as a nun and gives José a strychnine overdose that kills him before Diago can find out the daimon’s name.
•While searching for Elena, Diago encounters Beltran Prieto, who is hiding from the German angel. Prieto tells Diago the daimon’s name is Lamashtu, and that she was sent by the fallen angel, Samael, who is working with the daimon Moloch. Lamashtu intends to possess Diago so the daimons can raise Rafael.
•Diago and Guillermo go to an apartment that Guillermo keeps in the city and meet with Amparo. She tells them that she didn’t steal the fragment, because she was in jail, and the German angel, Anselm Engel, wants to talk to Diago. Guillermo refuses to turn his Nefilim over to an outside agent. He gives Amparo money and tells her to go to Valencia.
•Diago and Guillermo descend into the sewers to stop Lamashtu. Diago finds that his father, Alvaro, isn’t dead. Alvaro is becoming something else, something Los Nefilim have never before seen. Alvaro tries to persuade Diago to betray Guillermo, but Diago refuses. Diago evades Alvaro, and he and Guillermo manage to kill Lamashtu.
•Back in Santuari, Guillermo tells Diago to be at the church at nine the next morning for a meeting. They need to decide what to do about Garcia and his dealings with the German angel, Anselm Engel.
It is now the following morning . . .
CHAPTER 1
Barcelona
2 December 1931
Clouds the color of gunmetal obscured the morning sun and heralded another gray day. These last weeks seemed full of them. Pale shades of smoke and ash washed through the bathroom’s narrow window. Diago flipped the switch by the door. Electric light flooded the room and touched the reflection of a man who’d taken the hard end of a fight.
He shut the door and dropped his bloodied napkin into the hamper.
“Jesus. What a mess.”
A thin line of blood oozed from a deep cut on his cheek. He found a clean washcloth and pressed it against the gash.
Last night, the daimon Lamashtu had given no quarter in her battle to possess him. She had shoved him against the sewer’s concrete floor as if he’d been a rag doll. Had she possessed the body of a Nefil rather than that of a mortal, she might have won.
She did enough damage as a mortal, he thought. His clothes concealed the black bruises on his chest and back, but the lacerations across his cheeks and forehead were impossible to hide. If the road map of cuts and bruises were any indication, his journey with Los Nefilim had taken a rough curve. “I’ve turned into a gangster.”
A hard rap on the bathroom door caused him to start. Miquel didn’t wait for an answer. He opened the door. “Are you talking to yourself?”
Diago’s fingers tightened around the washcloth. “Did you come to help me or berate me?”
“Let me see,” Miquel said, ignoring Diago’s question and gently prying the cloth out of his hand. With a gentle movement, which was meant to soothe, he rubbed his thumb over the bandage that covered Diago’s missing pinky.
Once more Diago felt the ‘aulaq’s hot breath as the vampire bit off his finger. He gave an involuntary twitch and Miquel released his hand.
As he focused on Diago’s face, Miquel frowned. “You should have seen Juanita last night. This one could have used stitches like this other one.” He caressed the scar on Diago’s opposite cheek.
“At least I have a matching set.” Diago’s attempt at humor won him a scowl from Miquel. “You’re right. I should have gone to see Juanita, but I wanted to be home.” After his battle with the daimon, he had craved the sight of his family like a drug. Yesterday his pain had been distant, soothed by the presence of Rafael and Miquel. This morning, though, the aches crept over his body and pummeled him with thuggish glee. “I need some more aspirin.”
“After lunch,” Miquel murmured.
Diago placed his hand over Miquel’s and increased the pressure. Deep or not, the cut would heal. Regardless of what Miquel thought, Diago knew he’d done the right thing by coming straight home. Getting through this morning might be another matter entirely. “Guillermo wants us at the church at nine.”
“What does he need you to do?” Miquel asked.
“He wants me to tell the council about Alvaro.” The council would then determine how best to proceed against Diago’s father.
Alvaro, with his trickster ways, was becoming a creature unlike anything the Nefilim had ever seen. Just the memory of his burning eyes and razored smile twisted Diago’s stomach. Worse was Alvaro’s utter lack of remorse—he’d exulted in his transmogrification.
“What are you going to say?” Miquel’s question jerked Diago’s thoughts back to the present.
“That he should be given the second death,” Diago said. The second death, the final death from which no Nefil could ever reincarnate, was reserved for only the most recalcitrant of Nefilim.
Miquel frowned. “That’s extreme.”
Guillermo had felt the same way last night, but his resistance to the idea would have to be overcome. “Alvaro deserves it.”
A loud thump came from the kitchen. “Papa?”
“Everything is okay,” Diago called to his son. “Finish your breakfast.”
Miquel sighed. “Let me go check on him. I’ll be right back. We need to talk about this proposal of yours before you mention it to Guillermo’s council.”
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
Miquel hurried back to the kitchen.
Diago turned to the mirror and whispered, “Patricide.” The soft consonants drifted over the sink to touch his reflection. How could such a hateful word taste so sweet on the tongue? Surely if anyone merited such an end, it was Alvaro.
Or did he? If I had chosen to follow the daimons, wouldn’t Alvaro’s metamorphosis be justified, celebrated even? The question was moot. Diago was Los Nefilim. He’d chosen his side just as Alvaro had.
Why, then? Revenge? That was possible. Alvaro had done Diago no favors. He had plenty of reasons to loathe his father, more than enough to justify a desire for retaliation. Is that why Guillermo resists the idea of the second death? Does he question my motives?
Diago turned over the thought in his mind. It was possible. Guillermo’s position meant neither he, nor any of his Nefilim, could openly oppose the daimons without cause. To do so might fracture the uneasy truce between the angels and the daimons.
But since I am neither, everything I say or do is suspect. I need an irrefutable reason that will convince Guillermo to validate such an extreme death sentence. Miquel had inadvertently given Diago a starting place when he’d explained how Los Nefilim moved as a unit. The question became, quite simply: how would Alvaro’s death benefit Los Nefilim as a whole?
“I’ll find a reason,” Diago whispered to his reflection. The morning’s meeting was the perfect opportunity for him to convince high-ranking members of Los Nefilim to act. “I am the deceiver. I know the art of persuasion.”
Miquel’s voice drifted down the corridor. “Put your dishes in the sink. We’ll do them when we get home.” He came back to Diago. “Here, let me see.”
“Is it still bleeding?”
“I think it’s stopped. Yes. It has.” He cupped Diago’s face and frowned as he examined him. “Look at you. What is this?” He wiped a tear from the corner of Diago’s eye.
“The light is too bright.” Diago tried to pull away, but Miquel held him.
“Uh-huh. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing. It’s just the hangover from the morphine.” But that was also a lie. The morphine Lamashtu had injected into him last night was long gone from his system.
Of course, Miquel saw through the ruse and kissed his forehead. “You don’t need morphine to make you morose.”
Having a partner who read him so thoroughly could be a disadvantage at times. Deceiving strangers is far easier than duping those who live within our shadows. “I’m just exhausted.” Closer to the truth, hopefully close enough to deflect any further questions. “Juanita is right. I’ve been doing too much, too soon.”
“You’re healing faster.” Miquel assured him. “The more you use your magic, the quicker your wounds will mend. You’re going to be fine.”
Looking into Miquel’s eyes, Diago almost believed him.
“Papa?” Rafael squeezed past Miquel. “Are you all right?”
Diago looked down at his young son. Although he was dressed, his black hair had yet to meet a comb this morning. Dark shadows rested beneath his eyes, which were still puffy from last night’s tears.
“I’m fine.” Diago summoned a smile for the child.
“Good, because I have to use the bathroom. Right now.”
“I’m going to finish in the kitchen,” Miquel said as he released Diago. “We need to get going soon.”
From where he stood, Diago couldn’t see the mantel clock in their bedroom, but he was sure it was after eight.
“Papa!”
“Okay, okay.” Diago stepped into the hall. “Why does everything always start happening at once?”
The child tugged at his pants. “I can do it myself, Papa.”
“Ya, ya, ya. If you miss the bowl, clean it up. Understand?”
“I will. I promise! Now go, please, before I do!”
Diago tried to hide his smile. He slipped out of the room and shut the door on his son’s distress. Just like that, Rafael had dispelled Diago’s gloomy mood. All of his morbid thoughts about Alvaro receded behind the normalcy of the household sounds.
Diago went to his son’s room. Rafael’s drawings were tacked to the walls in a profusion of colorful, childish interpretations of the scenes around Santuari. Horses were his favorite, but he had
drawn Guillermo’s bulls, too. Another picture showed Guillermo’s daughter, Ysabel, and Miquel playing guitar together. In the drawing, Miquel positioned Ysa’s fingers over the strings as he taught her a chord.
While Miquel rarely had the patience to teach the other children, he had a special fondness for Ysa, and she, in turn, worshipped him as only a seven year old could. Rafael had captured their tender moment with the stroke of his pencils.
He sees the world so differently from me, Diago thought as he brushed his knuckles over the drawing.
Miquel knocked on the doorframe as he passed. “Don’t get lost, my star.” He slipped into their bedroom and rummaged through the bedside table’s drawer for his keys and change.
Diago blinked and realized Miquel was right—he didn’t have time to lose himself in Rafael’s world right now. He straightened the bed, and put the sketchbook and pencils in his son’s satchel. Just as he finished, Rafael returned.
“I didn’t dribble this time, Papa.”
“Did you wash your hands?” Diago asked.
Rafael sighed and returned to the bathroom.
Diago followed him and picked up his comb.
“No! No!” Rafael ran his wet fingers over his unruly locks. “You don’t need to comb it, Papa. I’m Gitano.” He shook his head. “My hair is wild like my spirit.”
“Wild spirits in this house comb their hair.” Diago grabbed a towel and wiped his son’s damp fingers. Stray hairs drifted into the sink’s basin and joined those of Miquel and Diago. He wiped the strands off the porcelain. “It looks like a family of bears lives here.”
Rafael giggled and raised his arms over his head, hands clenched like claws. He roared until the comb snagged a tangle. “Ow!”
Diago leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Then stay still. Even bear cubs don’t wiggle when their papas comb their hair.”
