“I know.” “What’s yours?”
“Harvard Manning is my real name. But I call myself Eros.” “Is it true that werewolves have alter egos?”
“For me, Harvard is my alter ego and Eros is his alter ego.”
He looked up at the warehouse. “If I am going to stay here long, I would like some food and water, please. Most demons are at the markets so I wouldn’t be able to go there. I don’t have any money, either, but I hear geneticists make a lot.
“So I am to be your caterer?”
Capernaum grinned. “No. Not at all. You are my assistant.”
***
Caspar awoke. He could feel the terrible ache within his body. With a hand pressed against his back, he slipped out from under his blanket. The flaky morning shone over his eyes, blinding him with darkness momentarily. He closed his eyes and blinked twice. The blur was still there, but his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Cracking his stiff fingers and his neck, he slid his feet into his slippers.
He frowned as he realized he was wearing a pair of pin-striped pajamas. Why was he in pajamas? Who’d changed his clothes?
The scent of tobacco assailed his nostrils and they flared with disgust. The morning was ruined by the narcissist gargoyle’s addiction to cigars. On the bright side, he back in his manor safely ensconced within his room. Balthazar was sitting near the paneled window. Ivy was nowhere to be seen.
“Why aren’t we at Capernaum’s?”
“Demons are all over that house. Perhaps it’s because of Capernaum’s betrayal.”
“Oh.” He touched his forehead. It felt as if he were suffering from a high fever. “Where is...Where’s Ivy?”
The gargoyle hesitated. He was trying to hide something from his master. “Er...She is...She is outside upon the balcony. Alone.”
“Why is she there?”
“I am a frigging gargoyle, Caspar. The last thing you want to do is ask me about a girl’s well being, which by far, everyone knows I am bad at.”
Caspar ignored him. A fast talking gargoyle with a big mouth and a small brain was the least of his worries. He walked over to his wardrobe and stared at his reflection within the mirror. Small cuts scored the flesh around his neck. His forehead sported several bruises and cuts, as did his cheeks and his earlobes. He looked weak and a tad thinner than before.
The door opened. Balthazar grew invisible. Caspar could still see the suspended cigar with smoke trailing from it. Balthazar tossed aside so that he wouldn’t attract attention to the floating cigar.
“Master Socrates, where were you?” Lazarus bent slightly as he stepped inside. “All of us were troubled.”
“I was on vacation.” “Where you got wounded?”
“It was a messy vacation,” Caspar admitted. “Those cuts look deep.”
“Yes, well, they can’t be helped.” Caspar clapped his hands together as he moved across the room. “I want you to make black coffee for me.”
Balthazar grumbled. “Make it two, will you?”
“All right, Master Socrates. The lady who helped you to come here is still around. Would you want anything for her?”
“Éclairs.” “All right.”
Lazarus turned and moved toward the room’s exit as Caspar grabbed his black
coat.
“You are familiar with women. Would you mind telling me what you think of her present behavior?”
“She’s encountered a grievous matter, Master Socrates. You might want to cheer her up.”
“Splendid, the morning could never be better,” Lazarus bowed and disappeared.
Balthazar became visible. “Dear lord, how big is that man?”
“Seven feet. You would have guessed that by now, but little brains don’t always catch on so fast.”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah.”
“What is the matter with Ivy?” Caspar asked.
“I didn’t really ask her, but perhaps it concerns a fellow named Ryun.” “Let’s find out, then,” he said and went off in search of Ivy.
***
Caspar pushed the glass doors open to greet the cool, bright morning. Ivy stood nearby, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, the red tips curled gently about her
face. Her clothes were loose around her body and a small blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. Its sole purpose was to ward away the cold as she looked around balcony, every now and then. Caspar shoved his hands into the pockets of his pin-striped pants and walked up to her, leaning casually across the rail.
“Good morning,” Caspar said.
“When I was five-years-old, Caspar, I had this dog named Toddy. I loved him. He loved me. We used to play a lot together. Our relationship was more than dog and an owner. It was of two inseparable friends. Then one day, he died. My parents said he didn’t die, but rather he was sent to a farm where he would live happily ever after.
“I believed them. I believed there was this farm where happy endings are the only endings. But then I grew up and realized they’d lied to me. I don’t blame them. I was a kid. Everyone tells a kid lies. I am not telling you this because I am missing Toddy or that a person close to me just died in front of me while I was kissing him for the first time. I am telling you this because I learned something out of it, something I would have never learned.”
“And what is that?”
“That in real life there is no farm with happy endings. There is no fairy tale, where the prince falls in love with the princess and they live happily ever after. This is reality, pure harsh reality. There is only one ending and it’s not happy. It’s just a bitter, stupid thing that will happen to us. Death will reap us. Happy endings are a mere illusion shown in movies, on television, in novels. It makes you cheerful for a while and you have something to look forward to, but soon, it fades away. The only truth of the end is death.”
“I am not really good at giving advice, Ivy. Such talks upset me. I agree with what you are saying. There are no happy endings, but you can make happy endings happen. You can be happy and live life just the way you wanted.”
“No, no!”
“Listen to me. Think about it. What have you always wanted to be? You are a Nephilim, but at some point of your life, you would have given a thought to having an occupation, a life.”
“I wanted to become a doctor.”
“Yes. Good. A doctor. Really? That’s impressive.” She smiled.
“Someone close to me said that people should be happy with small things. Small things make their present good, instead of trying harder and harder to make the future better. The future will be what it will be. We can’t do anything about it. The present.... Well, it’s right now. It’s right where we are standing discussing this. And you know who that someone was? It was you, Ivy Demetrius.”
“I said it because you were such a cynic.” “And now you are being one.”
“I lost someone.”
“People lose people, but that doesn’t mean they forget they actually have a life. Great people lose their close ones, but that doesn’t stop them from doing great things. They continue. They reap the rewards of the lives they live. That’s life, Ivy. Life is hope.”
“Thank you,” she breathed. “That helped.”
“Of course, it would have helped. After all, I am helping you.”
She slid her hand within Caspar’s. He grew quiet and felt a little awkward. For the first time in his life, he felt something different. The feeling was one he could not brush off. His hands were cold, stark contrast as they curled about her warm hands.
“You have to promise me something.”
“I am making a lot of promises nowadays.” She thought of Ryun’s promise in which she’d sworn an oath to defeat Lucifer.
“No, this is the easy one. When this ends, you have to promise me that you will study for the exam. You have to promise me you’ll work in a hospital and help people. Will you promise me?”
“I am a Nephilim.”
“Damn, Nephilim. I don’t care. Nephilim is what you are,
but what about what you want? Yes, you’re different, but you’re allowed to achieve your goals. If I were to have been in your place, I would have taken what I wanted because that’s what I want to do. Promise me that you will study. You will pass and you will work in a hospital.
Promise me.”
She nodded and a tear trickled down her cheek. “Yes.” “It’s going to be all right.”
She did her best hold back the rest of her tears, but they continued to fall. “There’s this Nephilim funeral. I am going for Ryun and the others. Would it be too much to ask if you will come with me?”
“No.”
Caspar had never done anything for someone except Death and that was because he had made a deal. Looking into Ivy’s black eyes as she stood before him, he wanted to feel the change that was starting to take place within him. It was inexplicable and he couldn’t quite make sense of it. A lingering feeling to help her
consumed him. Perhaps that’s what caring was about, to help others and understand their problems.
She embraced him tightly. He couldn’t find it within himself to return the hug. He wasn’t sure if he liked the change taking place within him. Perhaps he didn’t want to change so quickly, either.
“Um...I’m not really into hugging.”
“Sorry,” she said and smiled shyly through her tears. “I got carried away.” “It happens,” he murmured. “Do you like chocolate?”
“I love it.”
“Then you might want to step inside. I am the cynic Willy Wonka.” He grinned and winked mischievously at her.
Bu
rial
Caspar didn’t know what to wear for Ryun’s burial. It wasn’t every day that he would end up being there for a girl who’d just lost someone she had a crush on. She also had friends and some cousins in the war. Nevertheless, his feelings were a tad mixed. At one point, he hadn’t care about her. Now, he was going just because she was a liability to him.
His feelings for her were a tad strong, as if fate wanted him to go with her to be there for her and take care of her as needed. He’d never taken care of anyone before, not even of his own self. The violent change going on within his life and his emotions was unlike anything he’d ever known. Somehow, he felt good. Perhaps it was because helping and caring for people does make a person feel good.
Ivy walked into the room dressed in a long black dress. Delicate pearls hung from her earrings. Her hair was swept to the side across one of her shoulders, her black eyes mingling with the glooming shadows of his room. He stood at the ready in a dapper suit his lucky muffler wrapped around his neck. The collars were pulled up. One of his hands was tucked inside his pant pocket as he strode in her direction.
Something bothered him. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him. When he’d first met her, he’d felt an intense hatred toward her. But as time passed, the irritation and hatred had faded to be replaced with other stronger emotions. The concept was one he couldn’t understand. The kind of emotion he was experiencing was one he wasn’t used to, something he’d never gotten from anyone, except in his early years.
“Thank you once again,”
“It’s...uh . . .” he stammered, unsure of what to say. “That’s what fr –” He growled as the word refused to spill from his lips.
“Friends?”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“You never had friends in your life, eh?” “I never needed one.”
“Everyone needs friends at some point in time to care about their feelings and help them when in need,” she said.
His face was devoid of emotion. Being a sociopath, some of the things she went over his head. “I don’t understand. You have yourself.”
“One’s self is not enough.”
“That’s the Socratic Method for me. In life, you have yourself and no one else besides you. You walk on a road, alone. It’s the fact of life. End of discussion.” He clapped his hands and smiled. His nose flared in the process. “Fascinating. Shall we, Ms. Demetrius? I’ve always wanted to see Nephilim funeral. I wonder how they bury their own.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Oh, we don’t bury corpses,” she said as she followed him out of the room.
***
Nephilims had an entire world to themselves. Earth wasn’t their native land. When the angels came to mortals to consummate and have offspring, they learned their offspring needed a place, a haven, to grow and learn. Such a place was
constructed in another dimension and named Eden after the garden where Adam and Eve had been tempted by the snake and had partaken of the forbidden fruit.
Eden was to every Nephilim. They belonged here. Most of their training academies are located here and allowed them to learn martial arts from a very tender age. It’s a part of their education. From the earliest of times, Nephilims have been part of the angel’s order, acting as their executioners and standing as soldiers in their armies. They worked on Earth, patrolling and tracking demons. For this reason, they’d fought and died alongside the angels during the battle in the Land of Souls.
Acting as a bridge between the human and magical world, Nephilims are the police for other creatures. They place and enforce restrictions and constraints, as well as discipline other creatures so they wouldn’t trespass the human domains. In a way, they’re able to keep humans from suspecting the existence of magical beings across the face of Earth. Without Nephilims, Earth would have been in chaos.
Caspar found himself feeling a tad sad when he should have been excited. Ivy thought his behavior was a little odd. Yet she reminded herself that he was Caspar Socrates and everything he did was odd.
There weren’t any portals to Eden. Nephilims used gateways to enter their home at will. The gates could be anywhere and only Nephilims know how to use them. Ivy informed Caspar of this face as she opened the gates they needed to enter. One such gate was found in one of the obscure subway stations where the tarnished floors and the corroded rails shook with every beat of a train’s erratic speed. Newspaper stands littered the area, but they were empty.
Ivy approached a green door with the intent of pushing it open. As it swung inward, he followed her inside. It was a normal door and there was nothing special about it. He’d expected to find another room filled with humans at a coffin, sobbing
and remembering old memories they had of the deceased. What he found instead was something else entirely.
A purple sky spread far and wide above him. The blazing the sun wasn’t golden, but rather a red color, striking its vengeance upon the land. Water flowed violently downstream, emptying into a noisy ocean with a fury Caspar had never seen.
Hundreds of Nephilims stood about, huddled together, away from big, broad rock tablets upon which the corpses were kept, bandaged from one end to another. Their style of burial was more like that of the Egyptians, for they, too, utilized the method of bandaging the dead in white cloth wrapped all over the body. Each tablet was set adjacent to one another.
Ivy scanned the tablets, looking for the one that held Ryun’s body. His golden hair was combed off of his face and his blue eyes were now closed. A soft smile gently curved his lips. Nephilims wrapped in black robes were weeping, wiping their tears away and hugging each other as they leaned on one another for support. Women were holding their children, while men stood dispassionately beside them.
Someone strode through the crowd, a long, grizzled gray beard hanging from his chin. His shiny eyes roved over the throng of people as he carefully assessed the crowd. He wore a robe similar to what the rest were wearing, its hem drifting across the ground.
“I, Cassius Vorloff, have come here to this gathering of sorrow. A day has passed since our daughters, sons, and close ones died a horrible death.” A sudden gasp erupted from the women as they did their best to hold back their tears.
“Shush,” Caspar whispered gruffly at the bewildered women.
“But that is the way of the Nephilim. I don’t know what to say or how to say it well. The gr
eatest enemy we have ever known has risen from his cage and is on the loose. The crux of it is that we can’t do anything about it.
“In earlier times, he crushed our ancestors during the Great War. Our sons, daughters, relatives, our close ones – they are now gone. They will never see the world collapsing upon us. Instead of being sorry for their deaths, we should be happy about it. Soon, we shall as well meet them ourselves on a more level plane.”
His words seemed hopeless. It felt as if he was waiting for his impending death. There may have been a time when Cassius Vorloff was a man with quick wit and answers, displaying a sheer bravado amongst his peers. Yet time had changed him, just like it changes everyone.
“Does anyone have anything to say?”
No one raised their hands. Until one suddenly appeared. It was bony and pale. “And you might be?”
“Caspar Socrates,” he said and strode out of the crowd.
Whispers and mutters started. Some said that they had never seen such a Nephilim. Others said he was not one of them, but rather a human. He stood before them as he came to a stop beside Cassius. Corpses littered the stone tablets with runes of all sorts spread around them to take them into the afterlife.
Caspar waved. “Hello. For the old ladies in the back who have nothing to do but grumble, I am not a Nephilim.”
Ivy arched her brows, clenching her fist within the folds of her dress. She was scared that he might end up say something offensive to the Nephilim race. She knew it was quite a possibility. Caspar let slip offensive things quite frequently.
“I wouldn’t have a soul which is crushed with no hope in it if I were. Your leader, Cassius, has lost hope, for someone close to him has died. I don’t care about that, though. What I do care is that Nephilims, as I know them from the scriptures, are the strongest race the Earth has ever been gifted with.
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