Rise Of The Nephilim (The Tamar Black Saga)

by Nicola Rhodes

  ‘You said she would go after men who reminded her of Denny?’ said Tamar suddenly.

  ‘Yes, that seems most likely,’ agreed Hecaté.

  ‘Then I know exactly who she’ll go after first,’ said Tamar.

  * * *

  Slick had been reasonably easy to find. He was now living in a run-down flat at the top of a derelict building in a dodgy area. The kind of place where the people live like cockroaches and the cockroaches live like kings; where it was not a great surprise to find a used needle floating in the toilet bowl and vermin in the sugar, and where it was not advisable to use the lift without a gasmask.

  ‘If we’d known, we would have been able to track him by the smell alone,’ said Tamar. ‘This place is even worse than where I found Denny.’

  Denny, naturally, was not with them. Them being Tamar and Hecaté. It had been deemed “inadvisable” to bring Denny back into Cindy’s immediate orbit. And Tamar had flatly refused to risk it. Hecaté had not wanted to leave Stiles’s bedside, but she would do it for Tamar and Denny, and Tamar actually though it might do her some good anyway. Besides, she needed her.

  ‘People live any way they can,’ said Hecaté. ‘I have seen worse places in my time believe me. What makes you so certain she will come here?’ she asked Tamar

  ‘Oh, I should have seen it before. Slick always reminded me of Denny, at least when Denny wasn’t around. And he knew it too – Slick I mean. It’s not that he looks like him exactly, but he can make himself look like him. I reckon that’s why he went to Cindy in the first place. You were the one who said he liked her. Tonight won’t be the first time he’s played the substitute; I’d stake my life on it. But it was never so dangerous before.’

  ‘Shhh!’ said Hecaté. ‘He might hear you.’

  Slick was sleeping peacefully on a foam-filled pull-out sofa bed that was covered with stains instead of blankets.

  Shortly after midnight, the windows rattled, and a shadowy figure slipped across the room.

  ‘Pay dirt,’ said Tamar. ‘I told you.’

  The figure straddled the sleeping Slick who stirred and moaned softly in his sleep. The tender maternal side of Tamar was stirred by his helplessness. She clenched her fists in anger and made as if she was going to step out of the shadows.

  But Hecaté pulled her back. ‘Not yet,’ she said.

  Tamar sat back down, but it was hard to watch; in some ways, even worse than Denny. Poor Slick had no magical defence against this attack; he could easily die. Nor was he the reason for Cindy’s hunger. He had done some questionable things maybe, but he did not deserve this.

  Cindy leaned forward over her victim. Where before she had been wary, looking around the room for possible threats, now suddenly she was intent, focussed – preoccupied.

  ‘Now!’ said Hecaté, and Tamar leapt out. ‘Want another ass kicking,’ she said, ‘or will you come quietly?’

  Cindy hissed at her in furious amazement. She leapt for the window and was thrown back by an invisible barrier.

  ‘No getting away this time,’ said Tamar. ‘We were ready for you. You know you can’t win against me.’

  Cindy merely stood there grinding her teeth, uncertain what she should do. Any minute now, Tamar realised. She would attack.

  ‘Suscitatiosuscitatio exorior ex vestri somnus patefacio vestri oculus quod animadverto orbis terrarum.’ Hecaté muttered over the prostrate body of Slick.

  He sat up suddenly, like a reanimated corpse. ‘What the hell is going on…?’ Then he saw … ‘Tamar?’ He blinked in disbelief. Then he saw Cindy.

  ‘Cindy?’ he said. ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘No, she said bitterly, ‘just badly disfigured.

  But Slick did not appear to have noticed any change in her. ‘I thought it was a dream,’ he said. ‘But you’re really here – aren’t you?’

  Hecaté stepped forward to intervene between them. Cindy was dangerous, but Tamar held out her arm to stop her. Something interesting was happening here, and she wanted to let it play out.

  Slick put a hand out to touch Cindy’s face, but she shied away. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she yelled. ‘Don’t look at me.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said tenderly. ‘Don’t you know by now that it’s all right? You don’t have to cast spells on me to make me love you. You cast a spell on me a long time ago. Why do you tell me to love you Cindy? I already do.’

  He took her hands. ‘You took this ring as a symbol of your commitment to power,’ he said. ‘But power can’t love you back. I can. Isn’t that what you want? To be loved? Isn’t that what this is all about? You never really gave up on love, did you? Take off the ring Cindy, take it off and come back to the world, with all its pain and heartbreak and loneliness. It’s still better than this. Take it off Cindy.’

  ‘You love me?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I love you.’

  ‘And it doesn’t matter to you, what I’ve done?’

  ‘Oh, it matters, it matters a lot. But it doesn’t matter if you never love me back. It won’t change how I feel. I just want you to be free.’

  ‘There’s a lesson in there somewhere,’ thought Tamar. ‘An “after school special” kind of lesson, but a lesson just the same.’

  ‘Tell me your real name,’ said Cindy.

  He told her, and Tamar had to stuff her fists in her mouth to stop herself from ruining this beautiful moment with a huge guffaw of laughter, as Cindy slowly took off the ring and let it drop to the floor.

  ‘Denny was the dream,’ she said. ‘Seeing him again only reminded me. For fifteen years, you were the reality. Say you forgive me.’

  ‘I forgive you.’ This was no time for any sophistry about there being “nothing to forgive”. There was a lot to forgive, and she needed to hear it. ‘I forgive you.’

  The Succubus let go its hold on Cindy, it was like watching someone shed their skin to reveal a different person underneath.

  Tamar darted forward to retrieve the ring. ‘I’d better take this,’ she said. ‘Not that I don’t trust you,’ she added, grinning at Cindy, who understood that she was forgiven in this quarter too.

  ‘Now,’ said Tamar, ‘how about taking us to this secret lair of yours so that we can round up your son too? Before he does anything else that might get him grounded for a million years.’

  * * *

  Have you ever hidden something so well that you cannot even find it yourself?

  Cindy was genuinely anxious to help, but she simply could not find it. She no longer had the power.

  This was a considerable blow. But Tamar was not ready to give up easily. Slick was canvassed. ‘How had he found her?’ But it turned out that because he had found her so easily, she had moved her base of operations to a much more secure location immediately. And he did not know where.

  It seemed ludicrous, that Cindy could have lived somewhere for fifteen years and have no idea where that place was, but she just said. ‘It wasn’t that kind of a thing. Not a place as such.’ Which was a clue, but not a very helpful one.

  ‘Where will you go now?’ asked Tamar, realising that Cindy was not ready to come back to the house yet and face Denny – or Hecaté for that matter, who had vanished back to the bedside of her husband the moment Cindy had become herself again.

  ‘We’ll find somewhere,’ she said, taking Slick’s hand possessively.

  ‘Well, keep in touch,’ said Tamar, realising suddenly that she had been foolish to expect things to just go back to normal after everything that had happened.

  ‘Oh, we will,’ Cindy promised.

  ‘We have quite a lot to talk about, though,’ said Slick.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Tamar as they vanished. As soon as they had gone, she burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. ‘Veritas!Oh my God!’

  * * *

  ‘So, we still have no idea where he is or how to find him,’ was Tamar’s final summary of the situation, when she returned to the hospital to pick up Denny and fill both he and Hecaté
in on what had happened.

  ‘Or what he’s planning to do,’ added Denny. ‘I mean to us.’

  ‘Take his revenge,’ said Hecaté.

  ‘Sounds familiar,’ said Denny.

  ‘Yes, it does,’ said Tamar. ‘And Cindy went into hiding for fifteen years when she vowed revenge. We might not be hearing from Ashtoreth for a long, long time.’

  ‘Perhaps Cindy can do something,’ she wondered aloud. ‘He’s her son. She made him what he is.’

  ‘Don’t think she isn’t telling herself that every minute of every day,’ said Denny. ‘But it doesn’t mean she can do anything.’

  ‘He’s forgiven her too,’ Tamar thought. ‘Perhaps he always had. He always felt as if he was more to blame than her anyway.’

  ‘If she could just see him. Talk him down …’

  ‘Got to be able to find him first, though,’ said Denny.

  Iffie rolled her eyes to the ceiling, when she heard all this later on. ‘Oh, my God,’ she said. ‘Lies, betrayal, murder, unrequited love and a secret plot for revenge – then another secret plot for revenge. It’s a supernatural Soap-Opera?’

  * * *

  ‘Ash, there’s something I have to tell you,’

  He waited courteously.

  ‘About your mother,’ she added,

  ‘I don’t want to discuss that,’ he snarled, his expression changing in an instant.

  ‘But Ash, you see, she …’

  ‘I have to go now,’ he said quickly and vanished.

  ‘He knows,’ Iffie realised with a shock, ‘even if he’s not aware of it. Somewhere deep down in his secret heart or his subconscious, he knows, he’s probably always known. And he doesn’t want to hear it. Because where’s his reason for revenge, if he hears the truth? And he wants to have his revenge. He’s looking forward to it. Better play it carefully then. I won’t bring it up again for a while. Get his confidence back and then throw it at him, the truth, when he least expects it. I’ll need to get some proof to show him anyway. Otherwise, he’ll just call me a liar, say I’ve been corrupted or something equally ridiculous.’

  * * *

  What he really needed, he thought, was a suit of armour. That would have been appropriate. He did not understand this mission, not that he was allowed to question. But if he had been, he might have asked himself, why his master, who took his power from the Lord, needed this Earthly power source. But of course he never asked himself that. The part of his mind that was the Nephilim might have answered, had he asked such a question, that the lord helps those who help themselves. But what Gerald Wassermann, really wanted to know right now, was: “Why him?”

  He was not afraid. Not afraid, bloody terrified was more like it. But that was Gerald, the Nephilim was not afraid at all.

  The power, oh yes, the power was all very well. But it was the great big obstacle to getting the power that was worrying Gerald. A suit of armour, indeed, would have been most welcome round about now.

  He needed to have faith. Faith yes, that was it, faith was the thing. He surrendered his will and let the Nephilim become his armour. After that it was easy.

  * * *

  It was a little after midnight in the real world. There was no time here, not in the normal sense. Oh time passed, but it was in the mind. He could stop it altogether with the right force of will. But there was little point for the most part. She had stopped time in the real world – now that was power. Power such as he coveted.

  Even Ashtoreth himself was aware that he had changed. He could not hide from himself that he had become power hungry and lustful. But he excused himself. It was what the Lord had had in mind for him all along; that was evident. He was the instrument of the Lord’s divine retribution and his own sins would be forgiven since they had been committed in the execution of that duty. Sometimes, though, he doubted. It happened whenever he pictured Iffie’s face. She would be repulsed by his actions he knew, and a part of him did not want to do anything that would cause her to turn from him, to think less of him. But he reckoned it a weakness, perhaps the Lord had thrown her into his path and not her evil family – as a test of his faith.

  She knew what he had done, a part of it anyway. But she did not know the whole, nor did she know what he was planning to do next. She would be horrified if she knew. In his heart he knew this. In his heart, he himself shied away from the next step – because of her.

  If he gave into these feelings, he would go back to the world and take her away somewhere, to live in peace. He would even forsake his desire for revenge on her father – for her sake. Every battle he did not fight, every time he found himself reigning back his atrocities, it was because of her. She was his conscience, although he did not see it this way. To him, she was a flaw, a hole in his armour, and it was all the more insidious because he could not tell himself that she was evil.

  There were two paths before him now. He could take her as his standard of behavior. Act solely as if she were watching his every move and passing silent judgment on him. And take her into his heart where she could watch over him forever. If he did this he would be happier but would he be righteous? His war on sin would, of a necessity, have to stop. She would never condone it. Hers was the gentle way. She would have him lead people back to the path like a shepherd. (It never occurred to him that, actually, Iffie’s “way” was to pretty much leave people alone to get on with their lives as they saw fit).

  Or he could continue to follow the path he was on, the path of the butcher, not the shepherd, follow it to the end. Whatever the consequences.

  And if he lost her, so be it. The sacrifice was necessary. He knew what he had to do. There had never really been any doubt; his task was clear.

  He had a premonition that, if he allowed her to, she would destroy him one day.

  * * *

  The cycle of sin notwithstanding – and Tamar had not forgotten about this – there were more important issues to be dealt with at the moment. Ashtoreth, safely hidden away where they could not get him was now organising several strikes a day, more than they could possibly hope to keep up with. “Damage control” was rapidly turning into a desperate scramble to keep one step ahead in an increasingly losing battle.

  They had lost two comrades in arms when Stiles had fallen, and the news on him was not encouraging. Hecaté was a broken reed.

  However, they had Cindy back, and Slick came with her. Not to mention the hundreds of volunteers from both the Agency and the magical community, but it was not enough. They needed tens of thousands, and they just did not have them.

  As the Church was crushed and governments fell (accused of the sin of corruption, which was a particular irony considering what they now knew from Satan) and still no way of defeating the armies of the Nephelim was found, despair began to pervade, not only Tamar and Co, but the whole world.

  ‘If Ashtoreth doesn’t leave his stronghold,’ said Denny. ‘We’ll be fighting this battle forever.’

  ‘Then we’ll fight it forever,’ said Tamar, ‘if we have to.’

  I Am The Angel Of Your Redemption And This Is My Manifesto.

  For the cleansing of the sins of the world.

  The following sinners will be cleansed, for the sins of -

  Corruption and Deception. All the major governments of the world. To be replaced with one World Government of my construction.

  Pride and indolence, hypocrisy and greed. The Holy Catholic Church and the Protestant Church of England. All will follow the teachings of the Lord in my Name.

  Idolatry. The Holy Catholic Church of Rome for the worship of the idols of the saints who were but men and not angels. All other churches, temples and faiths of all kinds who follow the teachings and perform the worship of false gods and idols.

  The Performing of Black Magics and Idolatry. Witches, Pagans, Wicca’s, Voodoo Practitioners, Hermetics. Warlocks, Mages, Necromancers.

  Warmongering. For the sin of making war on their neighbours for their own pride, profit, or the exploitation of other
s, all the armies of the world (apart from the holy army of the Righteous, shall be wiped from the earth and peace restored.)

  Pride (vanity

  Envy

  Gluttony

  Lust

  Wrath

  Avarice (Greed)

  Sloth

  Idolatry (the worship of false gods)

  Cruelty

  Corruption

  Black magic

  Deception

  Exploitation

  Pusillanimity (cowardice)

  Addiction

  Hypocrisy

  Non-conformity People who dress, behave or live in a style likely to cause discomfort or embarrassment to their fellow citizens.

  Vagrancy.

  Any and all individuals found to be practising the above named sins against the teachings of our Lord shall be purged from humanity

  Ashtoreth.

  ~ Chapter Fifteen ~

  It was one year after the death of Finvarra, and events had combined to make it a year of horror. What had begun as a rash of sadistic raids had turned into a reign of terror that they had no hope of stopping.

  If they had thought it was bad at the start, from the time Ashtoreth published his manifesto, he had shown the world what he was really capable of. There had just quite literally been no stopping him.

  Every day Ashtoreth’s armies of death squads marched the streets of the world rounding up the “evil” citizens and taking them away for “trial” never to be seen again.

  The terrifying “manifesto” had been posted up on streets, and over flyovers and large buildings all over the world but at first, of course, no one had taken it too seriously, it was dismissed as just the ramblings of some religious nutter – until the marching boots were heard coming down the street.

  Then Ashtoreth broadcast his manifesto on worldwide television and radio. And pretty soon, his was the most well known face in the world. Even those who had never seen a television in their lives could not fail to see at least one of the immense images of his face that began to spring up on the fronts of official buildings everywhere.