by Mary Ting
Father’s taut expression froze Mom’s words.
His glare punctured Mom’s confidence, and her shoulders slumped. “He’s a big boy. He can speak for himself. You baby him too much. It’s no wonder he turned out the way he did.”
One. Two. Three. Four. Five...I inhaled in deep breaths to reinforce my thin patience. Cruel man with a glacier-cold heart. He didn’t deserve my mother. I wished she’d leave him.
Mother took a sip of her wine, as if that would help her. Raising her chin, she squared her shoulders. “Enoch is a fine boy. I’m proud of him. As his mother, I will speak for him and defend him as I please.”
My jaw dropped. Never had I heard Mother speak back to Father. Father grumbled with his mouth full of broccoli and that was that.
Mother wiped her mouth with her linen napkin. “Kelvin, why don’t you show Enoch your collections from all over the world? You did say it would belong to him one day, did you not?”
Father glanced my way and blinked. “I can’t tonight. I have a meeting to attend.” He shifted his gaze to Mother. “You can go down to the vault. You know the password. Or have Jeffrey take you. He knows the password too.”
“You have a meeting tonight? But it’s so late.” Mother frowned. “You just got back from your trip.”
Father slid his chair out as if something had bitten him in the ass and tossed his linen napkin on his seat. “Someone has to make money for this family. You sure spend enough on worthless things.”
A small growl escaped from my throat and I tightened on my fork and knife, ready to use them.
No. Calm yourself. You’re not a killer. Don’t have such evil thoughts.
I would have to confess to rage and wanting to kill my own father if I ever went back to confession.
“They’re not worthless.” Mother’s voice rose a notch. “They’re valuable, just like yours. Don’t you dare suggest otherwise. You—” Her eyes pooled with tears. She craned her neck away from me and quickly wiped her face.
For a split second, Father’s features softened, but then hardened again. “I have to go. Don’t bother to wait up.” He finished the last sip of wine and let it thump hard on the table. Then he rushed to the door.
“But Enoch came to dinner. I asked him to come for you. You only have one child, and yet...” She released a quiet sob.
Father stopped with his hand on the knob. “You asked him to come, not I. You entertain him. Next time, perhaps you should ask me. Then I’ll be ready for a guest.”
Mother rose from the table, her wine glass shaking in her hand. “He’s not a guest. He’s your son.”
Mother shrilled and tossed the wine glass at the door as it closed. Glass shattered, shards falling on the ground into scattered pieces.
“I’m so sorry, Enoch,” Mom gasped, her chest heaving.
“Mom.” I went around the long table to embrace her. “I shouldn’t have come. I don’t think he was in the mood for company. A deal must have gone bad.”
Mother pulled away, planted her palms on my shoulders, and met my gaze. “You’re his son, not a guest. He should always be happy to see you.”
I wanted to tell her I told you so, but decided not to follow through. I was never coming back home again, anyway. I didn’t need this bullshit.
I shrugged. “I’m used to it. Come on. Why don’t you show me your collection?”
Jillian entered with a mop and dust pan.
“Sorry, Jillian,” Mother said.
“No need to apologize, Mrs. Winston. I would have done the same.”
Chapter 8
Treasures
Enoch
Jeffrey took us to the back of the estate and led us down a spiral stairway. I had never ventured this way, nor had I wanted to be so close to my father’s office.
“Thank you, Jeffrey. You may leave us alone now,” Mother said. “I know the code.”
“Of course you do, Mrs. Winston.” With a nod, he went back up.
“You keep your treasures in the same place with Father’s?” My mouth tasted bitter at the word father.
“It’s the safest place in the house. I wanted to show you when you were younger, but your father...well....These all belong to you, at least mine do for now. You’ll have to wait until your father is gone for his.”
Mom tapped on the secure keypad and the door swooshed open. I shivered as a cool draft crept around me with a ghostly touch. But when Mom switched on the lights, I stared in wonderment at a grand room I never knew existed.
Shelves after shelves lined the back wall, filled with things...weapons mostly—daggers, swords, guns, and bows and arrows. Bottles, books, jewelry cases, canes, gauntlets, and so much more also were displayed around the room. Some were even encased in a thick glass case with code lock attached to it.
I shifted to the paintings of angels. Their wings expanded over their shoulders and cascaded down to the ground—so massive and breathtaking. Then I went to the next painting. I gasped. It told a story of a battle between angels and demons, only the demons looked exactly like the ones I’d seen in my dreams—black shadows with sharp teeth and claws, and molten-fire eyes. But the one in the middle had two horns sticking out of its head.
I jerked back and swore. The one with the horns seemed to crane its neck sideways to meet my gaze. Though that was impossible.
The next one disgusted me. It was a painting of demons raping human women and those women delivering demon babies—the ugliest infants I’d ever seen.
“When? How?” I asked, moving away from the wall.
“Over time. Some were passed down by my parents and generations before.”
I inched closer to Mom. “How did you...who sold this to you?” I picked up a gold bottle about the size of my palm.
“Be careful with that.” Mother reached out then lowered her hands by her sides, her voice ever so gentle, as always.
A reprieve from Father’s stern, cold hands and words.
“You’re going to think I’m silly but...” Mother glanced down at her feet, and then raised her eyes. “The bottle is filled with Jesus’s tears. It’s supposed to ward off demons and have special healing power. I know it sounds silly and you don’t believe in things like that, but I would put a drop by your crib when you were little. You cried so much at night. I didn’t know what to do, but the tear drops worked.”
I wanted to tell her that I dreamed of demons and maybe had when I was little, the reason why I cried, but I couldn’t find the right words without sounding ridiculous. A grown man afraid of nightmares—it even sounded childish in my own head. But I tried anyway.
“Do you think I could...I’ve been having weird dreams. Maybe I could borrow it? I’ll bring it back.” My words sounded mumbled even in my own ears. Too embarrassed to meet her gaze, I focused on a dagger.
“Sure. Just be careful with it,” she said hesitantly.
“Thank you. I’ll take good care of it.” I kissed her cheek and shoved the bottle in my back pocket.
Mom closed her eyes as if savoring the kiss.
“What’s that?” I pointed at a shiny sword on the wall with foreign words etched along the blade. The handle was silver and polished to a shine.
“Don’t touch that one, Enoch. That one belongs to your father. He’ll know if someone moves it. I don’t know who originally used the sword, but it must have been someone important.”
I raised my arms in surrender. “Don’t worry. I’m not touching anything of Dad’s.”
Mom grabbed my hand and caressed my knuckles. “You know he loves you, don’t you? He’s just been through a lot.”
My nostrils flared and I gnawed at the inside of my mouth from anger. “You know what, Mom? Everyone has problems. Everyone. Don’t make excuses for him. You deserve someone better. I don’t know why you don’t leave him.”
There. I’d said it. My words seemed to have stung her. Tears dampened her weary eyes.
“I know.” She dropped my hands and tangled her fingers together as a
tear fell between them. “I’m not strong. I don’t want to be alone.”
I wrapped my arms around her. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got your friends.”
“I don’t have any friends, Enoch. It’s my fault. I’ve lost touch with them, and my church friends aren’t really my friends. I do charity stuff with them and that’s all.”
My heart was crushed for her because I knew the truth. Dad had insisted she stop having a social life. I couldn’t recall his reasons, but I remembered the fights. And even if I offered to live with her, she would refuse.
I kissed her forehead. “Just give me the word, Mom. When you are ready, I’ll be there for you.”
“Your father is a good man. He’s changed a bit, that’s all. I don’t want you to worry.”
Mom released me and opened a cabinet. “I want to show you something. Something very old, safely kept throughout centuries. It is said to be older than the Bible.” She pulled out a silver trinket box about a size of a book.
The box was carved with intricate lines of swirls and curls, and on top was a concave seven-point star. Stunning. Magnificent. Never had I seen such an exquisite, ancient treasure.
“It’s a box?” I furrowed my brow.
Mom’s eyes beamed, and her lips lifted in humor. “No. It is said to hold secrets, but I can’t open it.”
“Secrets?” I took a step back. “It reminds me of the Pandora’s box myth. I don’t think you should open it.”
Mom laughed as a smile reached her eyes. “It’s been rumored to have been created by God. He gave it to Archangel Michael. I think we’ll be fine.”
“Archangel?” That piqued my interest.
“Come. Sit.” Mom guided me to a sofa in the middle of the vault.
I massaged the back of my neck and sat next to her. “How? How do you have all these…things?”
Mom laughed lightly. “I didn’t collect them all myself. Most of them have been handed down through my ancestors.”
“I see.” I gestured at the object in her hand.
“Oh.” She drummed her fingers on it and released a sigh before she continued. “The Bible doesn’t mention angels that lived among humans, but some texts say before the Bible, about two hundred angels—also known as watchers—were sent to Earth. Let me clarify. There were originally twenty watchers, and those first became the leaders of all the watchers. They were to observe and guide the humans. But they fell in love and procreated. Samyaza, one of the leaders, was the first to marry and consummate with a woman. Others followed his example. Half human, half angel children called nephilim were born. God was not pleased. These angels had not only disobeyed but taught men skills before their natural course. One of their leaders, named Azazel, taught men to make knives, swords and shields. Gadreel taught the use of weapons. Because of their skills, men began killing each other, and the first war began.”
I eyed the star on the treasure my mom held like it was the most precious thing. “Seven points perhaps means seven leaders?”
Mom examined the box and pinched the bridge of her nose. I shrugged.
“Perhaps,” she said. “Anyway, God decided to get rid of the nephilim and watchers that created havoc on the land. He sent Uriel to warn Noah. God flooded the land to get rid of sin and nephilim, but some survived, mostly the leaders. So God sent seven of his best archangels: Michael, Araqiel, Ramiel, Selsphiel, Raguel, Barachiel, and Uriel. But the battle was not a simple one. The watchers held strong. Many died. However, it has been said that they still roam the Earth waiting for their time.”
“Time for what?” I swallowed, though I had a feeling I knew the answer.
“To take over the world as they once did. Before the flood.”
“How?” I shook my head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. It’s just a story to make the artifact more valuable. What did you say was inside? A book?”
Mom’s eyebrows pinched in the center. “I didn’t tell you what was inside. I only told you that I couldn’t open it.”
I shook my head again. “I’m just guessing. Did the person you bought it from tell you this tale?”
Mom ran a hand down the treasure. “No. I didn’t purchase it. It was an anonymous gift. I received it when you were born. Father Sam and I had a conversation about it. I asked him about the box about a month ago.”
Icy fingers raked down my back. When I was born? Surely it meant nothing. It was Mother’s, after all. However, maybe it was time to visit Father Sam and his group.
What did I have to lose anyway? Perhaps I would get some answers as to why I saw demons in my dreams. And how did Father Sam know so much about watchers? I had never learned about them in Sunday school. I supposed he’d studied about them in seminary.
“I think I’ve heard enough.” I reached down to grab the box, planning to put it back. As soon as I touched it, light zapped between us like a mini electrical blast. I jerked back.
“What’s wrong?” Mom placed a hand over her heart.
Had she not seen it?
“Nothing.” I paused to steady my thundering heart. “Maybe you should put it back.”
I really needed sleep.
Chapter 9
Nightclub
Enoch
Goosebumps pricked my skin. I had never feared being alone, but the accident left me on edge. Every sound, every flicker of light alerted me. Demons shouldn’t exist in my waking hours, but according to Father Sam, there were others like me who saw them.
I would visit him the next day, but that night I was going to have fun with Jonah. But even as I entered the Genesis nightclub, an eerie sensation crept through my veins.
Stop it. It’s all in your head, Enoch. Relax.
I inhaled a deep breath, passing sweaty bodies on the dance floor that swayed seductively. As the bass thrummed through my racing heart, I texted Jonah to let him know I was there and searched for him. He texted back to let me know he was at the back corner.
Guys glared at me and women checked me out as I passed the bar. Faster. Don’t look at them. I felt hyper sensitive, aware of more than I could handle, like a charge of energy ready to explode.
That silver box. Something had happened when I’d touched it.
No. Get your shit together. Nothing happened.
It was in my head. Mom hadn’t seen it. It hadn’t happened. I rubbed my jaw. I needed a drink.
Jonah waved a hand.
Leave it to Jonah to be surrounded by women, even with Mayra tucked under his arm. No effort needed on my part to get the party started. I was quite surprised that Mayra didn’t mind four other women at the table. She did look a bit uncomfortable, and no wicked, seductive smile graced her face.
And who the hell was that guy? Jonah hadn’t mention other friends, not that I minded. I wondered if Jonah’s friend had brought this slew of women friends or if Jonah had.
“Enoch. You’ve finally arrived. Meet my ladies.” Jonah rose and swayed. Steadying his hand on the table, he pointed at the girls and said their names. He sat, then shot up as if he had forgotten something. “Oh, and this is Marcus.”
I frowned. He’d said their names as if their presences annoyed him. It was hard to hear over the loud music. So, I nodded and grinned as a way of greeting.
Marcus reached over and gave me his hand. I flinched at his strong grip and bit my tongue to squash the yelp. My pride twisted a bit. I worked out on a regular basis and my muscles were toned, but Marcus was a tank.
Shaking off the pain, I eyed the large plate of uneaten appetizers. The utensils lined straight on the napkin told me they were untouched. Strange. Jonah loved to eat. The eggrolls should have been devoured.
“Why are you standing? Sit down.” A brunette tugged me down to the empty seat next to her.
The same brunette twirling a fork made me uneasy. She stank of something foul, like flesh burning. The same pungent scent I’d noticed when I’d had the accident. I avoided meeting her eyes, afraid what my crazy mind would see.
> I needed a drink. Now.
I raised my hand to the waiter making his way around the tables.
“What can I get for you?” he asked.
I sniffed and almost gagged on his scent too. He stank like the girl next to me. What was her name? I ordered a drink and leaned back. That was twice now. Come to think of it, everyone at the table reeked. Perhaps it was me and not them. Maybe the wretched stench of the demon hallucination had stayed with me.
When the waiter moved away, my eyes found a gorgeous brunette at the bar. She wore all leather and looked like she could kick butt. Our eyes meet briefly and she turned away. Something tingled inside my gut, and a sense of déjà vu struck me. She looked familiar. Now that was much better. If only I could get rid of this smell. Maybe I should go up to her and sniff her perfume.
I brushed the thought away. Besides, she had some guy next to her and they looked like they were having a cozy conversation. I was there to get away and nothing else. Taking a girl home was not a good idea in my state of mind.
“She’s been staring at you, bro, since the second you sat next to Tanya.” Marcus hunched his broad shoulders closer to the table as if to tell a secret. “Do you know her?”
I hiked my brow, surprised he’d called me bro when I’d just met him. “Who?”
He flicked his chin toward the bar. “The brunette.”
I craned my neck. “There are several of them. Besides, I don’t know anyone here.”
“Are you sure?” His tone deepened, almost a growl.
I narrowed my eyes, annoyed at the way he spoke to me, and decided to give him the same attitude back. “If you want to get technical, I know Jonah. Mayra. And I just met you and—”
He slammed his fist on the table and my heart jumped.
“Where’s the book?” Marcus’s voice was calm but stern, like a father scolding, but his eyes blazed with rage.
I blinked and even looked behind me to see who he was speaking to. When I turned back he jabbed a finger at my chest. The other hand held a knife. I opened my mouth to tell him to screw off, but he spoke first.