by Abby Knox
Then he had to walk away to clear his head. He was fucking this all up. Why was he allowing himself to keep blundering like this?
Because she makes you feel warm and you like her.
It was too much. He needed to keep it quiet between their minds before the immortals in heaven caught on to their back and forth and started asking questions. The Cherubim, tasked with keeping the celestial music going at all costs, could feel disturbances. If they detected something, they were bound to tell the archangels, who were likely to send their foot soldiers, the Seraphim, poking around.
And once the Seraphim got involved, it always meant trouble. Celestial snitches, all of them were. If the archangel Michael sent his favorite kiss-ass Seraphim Malek to question him, everything was fucked. Malek would snitch to Michael, who would go straight to The Authorities. And the last thing Samuel wanted—what any of them wanted—was the attention of The Authorities if they didn’t have it already.
Thoroughly rattled, he wended his way downriver until the trees camouflaged him and the birds, fish, junebugs, lizards, and other forest creatures stilled. There, he let go of his human shape, the acceptable countenance that did not frighten the lesser beings of earth. He grew by more than three feet and took on his real form. The giant released his wings, pushed off from the forest floor with enormous force, leaving behind deep tracks in the damp soil, and flew up Bell Mountain to his home at The Ruins.
The barricades of earth and stone could not put enough distance between himself and what he had done. He knew the consequences, but he still wanted more. He would always want more. He’d let himself fantasize, fixate, and become obsessed. The powers of the human mind clouded and tricked his angelic instincts.
The exchange had left him more curious. More fascinated.
The Nephilim had been handed down a legacy of being fascinated by and attracted to humans from the original Watchers, the Grigori. But connecting with their innermost minds and having one of them reach back into his, it only made his obsession more intense. Pursuing the obsession would be foolish. It would all end in pain and heartbreak, with not even a lineage to show for it.
His home came into view as he crested the mountaintop, the moss-covered tumble of broken stones visible to the human eye transforming into the abbey, the enormous cathedral at its center, its spires reaching toward heaven, its brilliantly colored windows engineered so precisely that everywhere in the abbey was flooded with prismatic light. The rustling of his wings and the catch of his feet on the marble floor echoed in the perfectly mathematically precise nave.
Samuel knew, having felt injured down in his soul by the exchange with Ada, whether he should visit the fountain.
His brothers were no doubt up to some shenanigans while scouting around for companions in the valley below, so it was worth a shot. The fewer questions about why he was using the fountain, the better.
Samuel retracted his wings and walked through the center courtyard with its wild labyrinth of herb gardens, medicinal plants, flowers, overgrown vines, and thorny bushes. Samuel enjoyed the library best, but the smells and the sunshine of the courtyard helped to get him out of his head. He loved to feel the ground beneath his feet and the soil between his toes when his ambling led him off the paths. Urek had made the right decision in building this open-air spot in the center of the abbey; it made Samuel remember from time to time that he need not turn into a mole person, hidden away in the library stacks or his study.
Only Urek possessed a green thumb and used the plantings to cook for Feast Day, which only happened four times each year. Other than that, the courtyard was left to grow wild. It had a certain primordial chaos that appealed to the giants. Urek focused his need for order on the vegetable gardens and orchard on the south end of the abbey. Surrounding the courtyard was an ambulatory, and through that passageway was the entrance to the centermost section of the entire abbey: the fountain room.
The marble basin of the large, round fountain was carved with ancient symbols. The clear water in it flowed up into a center figure carved of black marble, a symbol of the Watchers.
Samuel sat on the edge of the fountain, looking up at the winged figure with its silver wings outstretched.
“I wish you were still here, Shemyaza. My mind is troubled.”
He didn’t speak as if he expected an answer. This brotherhood of Nephilim had been orphaned for eons, but he liked to talk to the figure nevertheless.
“I may have fucked everything up royally today. I still don’t know what the point of any of this is. Every time we try to evolve, heaven knocks us down again. If I take this woman for myself, it could expose our entire society. Humans could learn the truth about everything and then surely we’ll be slaughtered like you were. Just so The Authorities can wipe the slate clean again and…”
Falling silent, he drank again from the water, but the ache inside did not go away.
His situation was bad.
Footsteps approached. Samuel stood, dragging himself toward the steps that led down to his suite.
“Are you hurt?” The words themselves were gentle, but the tone was lethal.
Samuel spun around. His brother Zave’s piercing gaze watched him from across the room.
“No.”
“Then why are you drinking? The Feast is not upon us yet.”
“Perhaps I’m feeling under the weather.”
Zave took a step closer to his brother. “And why would that be? We don’t get sick. Not as a rule.”
That was true. Samuel swallowed. “Maybe we’re evolving. Maybe evolving isn’t always meant to become closer to heaven. Maybe we’re becoming more human.”
Zave snorted but Samuel was on a roll. “And while we’re asking questions, why aren’t you off scouting out a companion?”
Zave lolled his head around on his shoulders. “Tiresome question. Maybe I’m not as interested in picking out randoms anymore. They’re so much more curious these days, and the tech is always changing. I’m always having to recalibrate my frequencies to keep up with how to successfully disable the signals and the lenses.”
Samuel stood to leave. “Forget what I said about evolving. You sound like what the humans call a Boomer.”
He turned around to head in the direction of his living quarters before Zave could answer, but as he padded down the stone spiral staircase to his dormitory, Zave replied, “Thoughts about becoming more human only happen when we become too attached to specific humans.”
Samuel threw a snide reply back over his shoulder and it echoed off the ceilings and columns. “Did you try unplugging your brain and plugging it back in again, old man?”
As he made his way back to his suite of rooms beyond the courtyard, Samuel asked himself why he could not be like his brothers and take a human for a temporary tryst and then let her go. Plenty of humans were willing to give themselves over to a no-strings-attached interlude with a stranger. He’d done it before, many times over the ages.
For about three decades, Samuel had had no interest in scouting for a partner; at times, he’d mused that perhaps he possessed a level of immunity to the charms of humans that his brothers did not possess. Why should things be any different just because a human’s name appeared in the scroll? Maybe it meant nothing, he tried to tell himself. Surely, a good book would help clear his head and get his mind off of her.
The only solution for Samuel and Ada was to walk away; he only hoped he hadn’t pressed too hard already.
Chapter Seven
Ada
The main building of The Little Giant Motel, which housed the check-in desk and a gift shop chock-full of giant and Bigfoot souvenirs, was surrounded by a well-kept row of white cottages. It was one of those nearly extinct roadside motor inns that always made Ada smile because it reminded her of childhood road trips with her family. Ada had researched places to stay in Eden when she had first been contacted to speak at the festival and had been looking forward to her stay.
In person, it was so charming she cons
idered dismissing any thoughts about joining the giant hunting party that night, and instead, staying there alone with the coin-operated vibrating bed. Maybe catch up on all the deep-dive paranormal podcasts she hadn’t yet listened to while playing a game of solitaire with the motel’s complimentary deck of Bigfoot playing cards.
Even if she did trek up the mountain, she doubted she would find any evidence of giants or Bigfoots. Despite everything Emmeline had told her, Ada doubted there was anyone up there. She had to maintain her skepticism even in the face of her unexplained encounter.
In her room, she changed out of her summer dress and into jeans and hiking boots that she always brought with her on her travels. They came in handy in the more rugged locales she had visited on her investigations, as did her bug spray, Polaroid camera, trail mix, and compass (in case her phone was disabled, which had been known to happen in areas with wonky electromagnetic activity).
Ada stopped by the office and gift shop building on her way out to pick up a detailed map of the area. "Headed out for the evening, Dr. Blair?" The question came from the inn's proprietor. The silver-haired gentleman behind the counter was trying hard to contain his curiosity, but it was a good idea to tell him where she was going and what she was doing. “Going on a giant hunt with the History Channel.”
The proprietor responded by handing her a Ball jar filled with a clear liquid.
“What’s this?”
“Moonshine.” He gave her a wink.
She was taken aback, not sure if he meant for her to drink it or offer it to the beast, should she find him. “Did you make this?”
He nodded. “Liquid courage. It’ll keep you calm so they won’t need to get into your head.” He tapped his temple and gave Ada a knowing look.
“How do you know all this?”
He glanced around the room, making sure nobody else was listening to their conversation. “I was in my 20s when I met one of them.”
Ada played dumb. “One of them? You mean there is more than one??”
He nodded.
She judged she could trust him with her account of the events of that day, even though she wasn’t sure if she believed what she’d seen. “I think I might have seen one today. I saw a man, a tall man, who other people couldn’t see.”
His eyes wide, he nodded and she told him her experience. “You’ve been scouted. You’ll need this,” he said, pushing the jar closer to her across the counter.
“Well, if I already saw one, then I’m not likely to be scared when he comes back,” she said.
At that point, the man’s tone changed into a warning. “Oh, you haven’t seen them in their real form. You’re gonna need my special homebrew to keep them out of your head if you want to remember anything that happens to you up there.”
“Real form, what does that mean?” she asked. “Are you telling me you all believe they’re some kind of shifters? Come on. They’re just tall people living in the mountains who want to be left alone—am I wrong?”
“Darlin’, you’re so close to getting it. But you ain’t ready. So you’d better take my advice and take this with you or you might as well run along home.”
Chapter Eight
Samuel
The more he tried to put Ada out of his mind, the more he thought about her.
His need for her claimed him with every passing hour.
He had to have her. He would have her.
And it would be easy to take her because she was there, in his woods, on his mountain. He could already taste her in the air. She was fair game. It was practically trespassing, the same as all the others who had served as companions over millennia. She was a few days early for The Bacchanal and yet, the idea of subjecting her to that, of sharing her, made his stomach twist in a knot. Even though companions don’t do anything without consent, he had never enjoyed the idea of the more … exhibitionistic … aspects of the festivities. Having felt Ada in his mind, and having taken an astonishing trip into hers, he was even less likely than before to include her in any of the group activities. She would have to be kept a secret.
Some part of her knew he was up there on the mountain, too. After all, the trees were silent. All the birds, even the nocturnal winged beasts, silenced their songs when a supernatural creature lurked in the woods.
Camping with those simple humans with their silly cameras and phony ghost-busting equipment? Honestly, what was she thinking? She was better than all of them.
Samuel watched the camping party from the shadows, close enough for the woodsmoke from their fire pit to burn his eyes but far away enough his footfalls could not be detected.
They had done their homework, Samuel could say that for them. The humans had chosen a campsite farther up the mountainside than most people go and about half a mile off the main trail.
Her red hair gleamed in the light of the bonfire.
Samuel could not resist the temptation to set a trap for her.
His conscience told him it would be a mistake. She had a sharp look about her. Smart. Sophisticated. But behind her absorbing eyes was a yearning to learn more, to seek out things that didn’t want to be sought out.
In the darkness, those simpletons had put themselves out for slaughter by cooking meat and consuming excessive amounts of alcohol. Not to be slaughtered by him or his brothers, but by bears.
Samuel watched the way she closed her eyes while she listened to one of the humans play his guitar and sing. It was touching, the way she was moved by the music that was—to his ears—so bad. Perhaps she was drunk. He couldn’t fathom how she was enjoying the company. She smiled beatifically as if the notes danced behind her eyelids. Samuel watched as something sparkled in the corner of her eye and then fell. She was wholly self-possessed and not at all embarrassed to be crying in response to what she deemed to be something beautiful.
Art and music touched most humans. But her mind floated on another level; she hungered for something bigger than herself. A higher plane of existence. If such basic music by simple humans moved her this much, there was no way she could handle the music at The Bacchanal.
And then he felt it. Invisible to the human eye, but it was there. She vibrated, a human intruder on a private channel. But that particular channel was inaccessible to simple mortals. How could this be happening? If she could breach the barrier and be on the same frequency as his brothers and sisters around the world, then…well, the repercussions could be disastrous.
The battle between desire and ethics raging inside Samuel closed in on a truce. On one hand, he desired to show her all she yearned to learn about the universe. To blow her mind. On the other hand, he wanted to protect her. If Malek the Seraphim, any of the fallen angels, demons, or The Authorities detected a human on a frequency—any angelic frequency—she might instantly be killed or have her mind dangerously wiped.
Just like they killed my father, for no other reason than for loving a human.
There. The decision was made.
The Authorities would not touch her. And neither would their punisher Michael, nor any of the other beings like him.
The scientist stood and looked around as the music ended and someone broke out the television camera to record their debriefing before any of them were too drunk. Samuel took that moment to make himself visible, only to her.
He spoke to her with his mind. “This way, little fox.”
But he sensed that his words simply bounced off of her. Someone or something had created a barrier.
Samuel muttered a curse. Wade at the Little Giant Motel and his homebrew. She had a belly full of it. Sometimes Samuel thought the Nephilim had taught humans a little bit too much about magic and sorcery.
He would have to try something else, to leave his scent and a trail for her to follow. He would lure her, catch her, using her basic senses. Once he’d released his enticements into the air around her, he floated high above her in the darkness, his wings as silent as a bird of prey watching and waiting.
The trap worked.
He could try to deny it was a trap for his prey, but the darkest, oldest part of him enjoyed this. Snatching her away was going to be delicious fun.
He watched as Ada’s eyes caught on something in the darkness. The shadows in the trees engulfed her as she took the bait.
The giant was pleased.
Away she went, all alone in the dark, dense woods, unaware that her angel was ahead of her, striking down with his sword every invisible barrier, risking everything to know the strange human. Know her in every sense of the word.
Chapter Nine
Ada
Maybe it was the moonshine. Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe it was the scent of an otherworldly beast in heat.
Or maybe it was the fact that not a single cricket chirped, nor owl hooted, nor possum scurried. Nothing. The forest was eerily still. This same thing happened on fruitless hunts for Sasquatch, when she felt she was getting close to an encounter.
But something was out there. Something grand and mighty, feral and dangerous. Something that wanted her. And she would go to it.
Someone was here. Someone she knew. But how could that be?
Ah hell. It was time to ditch the Hollywood crowd anyway.
If something was out there, she was going to find it first.
Then she saw the lights. A soft, warm glow like fireflies but violet. The strange man’s eyes from earlier that day were the same violet.
No, they were fireflies. And she was drunk. She’d only taken a few sips of that moonshine the man from the Little Giant Motel had given her, but anything more than a few sips was enough to knock out a yeti.
On the other hand, fireflies don’t stay lit up continuously, and they don’t move like that. Like how she imagined fairies to move.
Agitation flooded her body and she needed to walk. She needed to get away from those people and the fire and follow the voice.
