Shadowhunter (Nephilim Quest Book 1)

by Leena Maria

  She was one of the Nephilim. And I did not have to guess twice whether she was the good or the bad kind.

  "Will you come voluntarily, or do I have to force you?" she asked, with a steely echo to her voice.

  "And how would you do that?" I swear, I don't know where the courage to challenge her came from, but it did. I felt the strong spot in my mind turn even harder.

  "Well, I could bite you, of course. Surely you already know about vampires? And vampire makers? That would be us." Her tone was almost smug now. "We enjoy the energy blood gives us. Also - we need servants. Win-win situation. For us, that is." She began to smile.

  Somehow the perfectly straight, white rows of her teeth behind her carefully painted bright red lips seemed to grow longer, though I did not see any fangs. It was as though the teeth were inside her palate, and she could lengthen them at will by some weird semi-mechanical process. The corners of her mouth seemed to be wider apart than a moment before. It was like watching the smile of a beautiful women turning into a grin of a shark. Repulsive, yet I couldn't drag my eyes from it. Now I understood better what I had been told about the vampire teeth earlier. I was in no doubt that she meant what she said.

  "I would only bite you enough for my venom to paralyze you for a while. Of course that would have unpleasant after effects later..." she laughed quietly to herself as if at some private joke.

  I had a pretty good idea what that after effect would be. I swallowed.

  "You'll do no such thing," I tried to sound as convincing as I could, "because you are not to harm me."

  I was playing with fire here. Her eyes narrowed into slits that made me think of a big cat.

  "And how do you know that?" she asked, and for a second I thought I caught a note of insecurity there.

  I had shot in the dark and hit the mark. Someone obviously had told her to not harm me.

  I tried to look relaxed. With limited success, probably, but at least I did not show fear - a fact I could not understand. I was facing a living nightmare of mine, however beautiful, and instead of crumbling into bits, I challenged it. Or something in me did, as if I had a second, hidden trait of personality I had never met before.

  "I know all about you," I lied, "I know why you want me. And I know you need me unharmed."

  She pondered my words for a while. The lips closed over the fearsome teeth. Then a cold smile spread to her lips. It did not reach the narrowed eyes.

  "Then you will also know, what we're going to do to you, if you decline our demands."

  "If I choose not to follow someone, no-one can make me do it," I marveled at my calm voice. It was as though someone else was talking through me.

  "Oh, but you will do as you are told. I am stronger than you. You have no idea how strong I really am... no one denied me the use of power. A few bruises won't make you any the worse for our purposes," she hissed, taking a step in my direction. Her wings were huge now, and they bent towards me like thunderclouds. Her yellow eyes were piercing, and suddenly I was quite certain she would bite me, just because I had stood my ground. She was clearly used to being obeyed. The look in her eyes was not quite sane.

  I knew she would jump at me in a few seconds. I could not think any further than that. Finally I knew I could buy no more time and began to prepare for the inevitable.

  She moved closer, her wings bending forward in an attempt to wrap around me.

  There was a swooshing sound from behind, and she stopped. Her eyes were all round now, and surprised. Something blue and beautiful extended from behind me and enveloped me before her dark wings had a chance to touch me.

  "She is mine," a familiar voice said and I could have cried with relief.

  Daniel had found me.

  "She is not yours to keep, Daniel," the black-winged Nephilim girl's eyes were hard.

  So they knew each other.

  "We made her. She is ours. You might not want to know her more intimately than you already do. That would - be against what has been agreed," the girl hissed.

  "She is not yours either, Angel," Daniel's hand pulled me even tighter against him, "She is her own being, free to choose her own life. No one is to force her into anything she doesn't want to do. She has not agreed to anything."

  "She'll have to choose what she was made for!" The Nephilim called Angel was furious now. "Eventually she will have to choose."

  "Choose, yes," Daniel's voice was unbelievably calm, "but not now. And not forced in any way. This is why you're leaving, Angel. Now. I will attack you if you don't. That is a promise."

  I had not noticed his wings were that huge. When he pressed me against him with his arm, the blue wings bent forward in an arch above and beyond us – their tips almost touching the black wings of Angel. Daniel had lifted the wings up in stages somehow, so they covered my upper body in two layers. I felt a deep rumble in my body and realised it came from the wings. What enormous energy there had to be in them...

  Angel hissed again. Then her hiss turned into a growl that morphed into the most spine-chilling scream imaginable. She crouched into a catlike position so quickly the motion was blurred - she was now at knee-level, mouth open wider than was possible for a human, long teeth exposed. Suddenly she threw herself flat on her stomach. Instinctively I turned my head away. I could feel her spit on my cheek. Like a flash Daniel's hand was on my skin, wiping it off with his sleeve. Angel was instantly a swirling tornado and then was gone.

  "Did any of that get into your eyes or mouth?" he asked.

  "No, I don't think so..." my voice had suddenly lost all its strength. "Why?"

  "Their spit is venomous. It has consequences. Are you sure?"

  "Yes. I got it on my lower right cheek, and neck, that's all. I just wonder what the shopkeeper thinks of that shriek. She is bound to have heard it..." I said in a conversational tone and turned to face Daniel.

  And then I collapsed into a sobbing wreck against his chest.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  44. Goddess

  The sea had been dark and he had felt its breath like a gigantic living consciousness under the merchant ship when they crossed the expanse of water to Astacus, on the western shore of Greece, at the southern edge of the Arcanian mountains. There he left the ship, explaining that one of his father's friends lived there and set off on his long journey to the east.

  He still had only his human powers at the time, and so he bought a donkey to carry his belongings. He joined other travellers, to be safe from robbers. He had never walked such a long distance, but he was young and had all his strength. And so, every step took him closer until days later they arrived in Delphi. Ambrogio was very proud of his long journey, and was already creating stories in his mind about what he would tell his siblings when he returned home.

  Ambrogio had stared at the temple built high on the folds of the mountain, hidden from the plains below, with his mouth open in amazement. All the way up to the temple he had not been able to see it, and then the road went around a crag of rock, and the temple suddenly appeared in front of him as if by magic.

  He walked along the sacred road towards the temple. It rose towards the main building and was flanked by hundreds of statues. Many of these were given to the temple in gratitude for winning wars, especially after the recent defeat of the Persians. He stared at the three bronze serpent columns with their serpent heads on top of the massive golden tripod and began to understand that he had not seen the world at all.

  Six huge columns stood at the facade of the temple, and fifteen at the sides. Never had he seen anything so imposing. Later he heard the Alcmeonid family had paid for the building of the temple, after the original one had been destroyed by fire during the first Holy War, a war that was fought for the possession of the Temple.

  The temple was made of Parian marble. On the western end of it were carved scenes of gods fighting giants, and on the eastern side a scene of Apollo driving a horse-drawn chariot. Several other deities were also worshipped at Delphi.

  Other
magnificently decorated buildings were dotted all over the site as well. There were at least twenty treasuries built there, all containing unbelievable riches, filled with treasures that people and cities had brought or sent as votive offerings.

  The temple was run by an independent council, the members of which came from different city states. The Pythia worked here, as did the profetari - the priests who would interpret Pythia's mysterious words. Their job was to guide the consultant so they would ask their questions in the right way. You could ask two kinds of questions: should you do one or the other of various options, or a more general question of what you should do to achieve something. And then there were the possiu, the five holy men.

  Priests and priestesses were fully aware of their status, and if Ambrogio had thought he would just walk in and ask for an audience with the Pythia, he now understood he had been a fool. Pythia was not to be approached by outsiders, and kept to herself, protected by the hierarchy of priests and priestesses and the complexity of the ritual.

  He could see rich men and women giving expensive gifts to the priests to be allowed to approach the Pythia on the seventh day of the nine months during which Paean - Apollo - was present in the temple, and which were the only days that she foretold the future. Ambrogio had no riches. His father was a mere pauper compared to these people.

  He soon learned that to have any hope of approaching the Pythia, you needed a citizen of the local town of Delphi to be your sponsor. You could not approach the Pythia on your own. He also heard that trying to bribe the priests was a capital offence, for which the punishment was execution or exile.

  He paid for lodgings nearby and spent his days at the temple, trying to get access to the priests. They did not consider him worthy enough to even talk with. He tried to find a Delphi citizen who might try to arrange an audience with Pythia, but to no avail. He was just not rich enough.

  What he did have, though, was his singing voice. Strong and clear, yet soft, gentle and persuasive. And so, when he heard the Pythian games were to be held this year, he knew he had found a way to even try to reach the Pythia. The games had a musical event - singers should sing a hymn to Apollo, the god of the temple. They should also be able to play the kithara while they sang, a musical instrument that resembled a lyre.

  The lyre was something Ambrogio had learned to play at home. Surely the kithara was not much different?

  He approached the priests yet again, and announced that he was to partake in the games. Now he would need to get a kithara.

  He could not get one anywhere. The musicians who came to the games all had their own kithara, and no one was willing to sell him one. Even if they had, the price would have been too much for him.

  Then, surprisingly, help came, when he was already certain that his plan to reach Pythia would never work. Ambrogio had descended from the mountainside of the temple to the valley below, and was sitting, desolate, under the shade of a tree near the Kassotis spring, where pilgrims and temple personnel bathed. He knew that if this did not work, he would have to travel back home. Soon he could no longer afford to pay for his lodgings and food. He would have to sell his donkey, if a miracle did not happen.

  He heard steps and looked up.

  A beautiful woman approached. Taller than any woman he had ever seen, and much more beautiful. Her hair was golden and fell below her waist, her eyes were golden as well, her skin was like the moonlight, and she carried something silvery in her hands. It had to be her weapon, some kind of a bow.

  Ambrogio understood she must be a goddess or a naiad of the river, and got to his feet quickly, only to bow back down to the ground in front of her.

  She did not ask him to get up, so he knew he had been right. She was a goddess.

  "Do you want something?" the woman asked with her voice that rang like silver bells.

  "My goddess... I want to sing a hymn to Apollo at the games, but I have no kithara. Could you help me? I shall be your servant forever more," he blurted out quickly, fearing she might disappear.

  She laughed.

  "Forever more? Are you sure that you wish for such a thing? Beware what you promise to my kind. Eternity is a long time..."

  Ambrogio dared one look at her from under his brows, only to quickly lower his gaze again. The goddess was looking at him appraisingly. He was a handsome young man, after all.

  "Forever more, goddess..." he bowed his head, proud that he would look pleasing to a goddess, but afraid at the same time. The river naiads, the Potameides, were said to be aggressive towards young men.

  "Very well. If that is what you choose," she said in a clearly amused voice. "Come here tomorrow and you shall have your kithara."

  He did as advised, and the goddess appeared again. She carried a kithara in her hands, as promised.

  "Here, do you know how to play it?" she asked, and gave the instrument to him.

  "No, but I will learn. I need to win the games."

  "Why?"

  "So I can ask to see the Pythia. I cannot afford to pay to see her, but if I win the contest, I might have a chance," he said.

  "Why do you need to see her?" she asked, still amused. "To learn about your future?"

  "Yes, goddess. I know there is more awaiting me in life than being a mere merchant like my father," he said.

  "Being a merchant is a good thing in this world," she said. "There are many who have nothing. And merchants can have anything, because they have the means to trade for whatever they want. So do not look down upon your father. You are one of the privileged ones of this world."

  "No, goddess. I am sorry, I was stupid to judge my father." Ambrogio understood the error of his ways.

  "Well, what can you expect from mere mortals," she shrugged. "Also knowing your future may not always be a good thing. What if she tells you when you shall die? Or gives you an ambiguous oracle that you spend the rest of your life trying to understand? Her oracles are mostly like that. It can drive a man to madness."

  Ambrogio had thought about this before.

  "If she tells me how and when I shall die, then I shall try to live and experience as much as I can before it is my time."

  She laughed.

  "And what if she tells you that you'll never die? Will you not grow weary of life at the very thought?"

  Ambrogio did not understand the question, but did not dare to ask what she meant for fear of appearing even more stupid. The naiads did live for thousands of years, so she might not have been posing a real question to him. Surely she knew he was a mortal man with only a few decades in front of him at best?

  "Well, you learn to play the kithara. And if you win the games, and if you meet Pythia, I wish you luck. I shall return to your promise later."

  She stood so close to him that her intoxicating, sweet scent filled his nostrils. Expensive perfumes, the smell of ripe fruit. He tried not to stare at her breasts, barely covered by the thin dress, with poor success. This seemed to amuse her even more. She raised a finger and gently traced his jaw with it. He felt the burning heat of the finger, and looked into her golden eyes. It was as though they sucked him into her mind, and he could not wish for anything else than for her to never turn her eyes away from him.

  She looked amused, certain of her power over him, bent and kissed him gently on the lips. When she straightened herself again, he noticed his lips were bleeding as though they had been cut. He tried his lips with his finger and the pain told him that indeed there were two sharp cuts on his lips. An odd tingling made his lips numb.

  A drop of his blood was on her lower lip and she licked it slowly with her tongue it as though it was a delicacy.

  "Remember, forever more..." she said with a smile that made him shiver.

  She turned and left. Holding the kithara, he watched her walk away, his lower lip tingling and numb, and felt an odd sensation that he had agreed to something he could not begin to understand.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  45. Song of the River

  Mut-Bity and I saile
d with the beehives to Mi-Wer. I was surprised at this, because I knew the bees should have been needed further south. But after meeting the odd pale man, Mut-Bity had been very quiet for a long time, and had not said much after telling the captain of the ship where we were headed.

  I sat at the prow after the sun had grown tired and plunged down to its underground journey. The stars were rolling quietly from the east and across the sky towards the west. The river took us gently towards the imperishable stars of the north - the stars that never set but stayed above the horizon until the sun was reborn and bleached the sky to blue again.

  The crew had already grown accustomed to us, and liked me too, despite my odd looks. Even now, wrapped in the silence of the night, I was eating a honey cake made by the captain's wife in a little clay oven on the deck. When I finished eating and the crunching noise did not disturb my hearing anymore, I concentrated in listening to the singing of the night.

  I had tried to explain to Mut-Bity what the song sounded like, and she clearly believed I could hear it, even if she herself could not.

  It was like soft waves up in the sky. It caressed the ground below, stroked the shining skin of the river, and made each living thing hum with its own unique note. Like playing a lute, but in such a way that each living thing gave its own, never-ending, never wavering sound. I could only hear it when my mind was completely peaceful, and when the world did not speak with loud noises. And when I did hear the song of the night sky, I could tell where and how far someone was, and to some extent even what they were doing.

  Emotions had an effect on how high and strong the note was. When someone was asleep, the song coming from them was just a quiet hum - unless they had a very vivid dream. When a person was awake and felt something very strongly, the song had a louder, clearer voice. I found it very funny to listen how their melodies intertwined, when the captain and his wife retired to rest in the cabin of the boat. Sometimes they could not keep their silence, and I could hear both their muted moans and the song of the world turn up a notch, when their two separate songs reached a peak at the same time. During this last week I had also heard a new, very slight melody, which seemed to grow from the inner music of the captain's wife. It came from her mid waist, still nothing more than a tiny whisper. So I was aware many weeks before the mother-to-be that she was expecting their first child. Mut-Bity had earned us a little extra for many months now, when she had learned I had this skill. Women of the villages loved to gather together to talk, and for a small fee I would tell them if they were with child or not.