Shadowhunter (Nephilim Quest Book 1)

by Leena Maria

  Then they had to turn Elijah around to treat his back. Daniel stepped in to help, and with the help of his strong wings they managed to keep Elijah's wings supported as they spread them out widely during the process. Despite all their efforts Elijah screamed with pain. His voice hurt my whole body, and I felt it like a stabbing pain in my bones.

  A little sob broke out of me when I saw his back. I couldn't help it. I could literally see his ribs, the cuts were so extensive. I had to put my hand over my mouth; the sight made me want to vomit.

  Daniel stepped closer, and to my surprise he put his arm around my shoulders and drew me to him. I felt my skin prickling at his touch. Against his steady hand I noticed I was shaking.

  What surprised me even more, came as a shock almost, was the realisation that I had grown in height since I had last met Daniel. Before, my head was at the level of his shoulder, but now I reached his cheek.

  "Will he... die?" I managed to form the difficult word.

  "It could be. I have never seen a Nephilim this badly injured," Daniel said with a thick voice. "When the results of the blood test come, we'll know whether ... he'll even be allowed to live..."

  I had no words. Daniel's answer confirmed what I had already suspected - Elijah was one of those who could travel between the buffer zone and our world on his own. All I could do was to squeeze Daniel's hand on my shoulder, and he turned his head and met my eyes. I saw tears in his.

  "Oh, Daniel!" I turned to face him and hugged him before I even knew I was doing it, "I am so sorry!"

  He wrapped his arms around me, making my heart sing even in the midst of all the horror. We stood locked like that for a while. I could have stayed like that forever, but I understood this was not the right time. This was not about me. No matter how I felt for him, this was not the place to tell Daniel about my emotions. So it was I who let go first, and we continued watching the doctors working on Elijah.

  Elijah was a sorry sight, when they were done. His whole body was covered in huge cuts and quickly emerging bruises. His skin had been stitched together with hundreds of sutures. His wings lay by his sides; the torn edges glued together, dark patches dimming their usual glow. They had tried to take away his necklace, a scarab, but he had been conscious enough to stop them. It was wiped clean from blood and now lay against his chest.

  He was wrapped in bandages, and an iv-drip kept on feeding his body with the odd yellow, glowing liquid they had used on his wings. He was so pale I wondered if there was enough blood left in his body to keep him alive.

  They could not cover him with blankets, as they would have pressed on his wounds. Instead they raised the temperature of the room.

  "Go now," one of the doctors, a middle aged woman, said to Daniel, "there is nothing you can do here. Elijah needs to rest."

  "I'm going nowhere," Daniel said in a voice that accepted no objections, and the doctor let us be.

  "The test results will take a day to be ready," was all she said, "then we'll know."

  I could not leave either. I stood there with Daniel, feeling the room become more comfortable by the minute. It took me a while to understand it was because of the quickly rising room temperature, which matched my own body temperature.

  One of the doctors stayed with Elijah. He sat in an observation room with a big window onto the treatment room. He was keeping an eye on the monitors there.

  Daniel pulled up a chair for me, then one for himself. We sat side by side, our eyes on the still unconscious Elijah. I had never been religious, but now I prayed. Whatever higher force there was, surely it would want to save an angel?

  I could not face the thought that Elijah might be infected and would have to be killed. I had a very good idea who would have to do the killing. Could there be anything worse than being forced to kill one's own sibling?

  There were no windows in the room, but I felt the day turning old, and eventually night came. The clock on the wall measured time, silently. Daniel never withdrew his wings - he seemed to be on alert all the time.

  I began to feel very odd around midnight - as if a swarm of bees buzzed in my body. I had to get to my feet. As I did, a spasm of pain ripped my back.

  "Oh!"

  No matter how I tried, I could not keep silent.

  "What is it?" Daniel asked quietly.

  "Pain...!" I bit my lip. This was not the place to complain about my own aches.

  "Where?"

  "My back! OH!" now the pain left me no option to stay silent - I screamed when it stabbed me with such a force my legs gave way and I fell on the floor.

  Hurried steps. Daniel lifted me from the floor, I noticed the doctor behind him.

  "Is it happening now?" he asked Daniel.

  "Has to be - but it should not be happening yet! This is too soon, neither her body of her mind are prepared!" Daniel said with concern in his voice.

  I was paralyzed. Suddenly I was a prisoner inside my immobile body. I felt nothing but terrible pain, as if an invisible knife carved my back, but I could not even scream anymore. Only my eyes could move.

  "Put her on the bed, on her right side, it is easier on her heart," Daniel's voice commanded.

  They did. I was staring at Elijah on his bed. Then Daniel was sitting next to me.

  "Shhh... try to calm down," he said when he saw the panic in my eyes, "The paralysis will last some time, maybe a day or two, but it will pass. And you will be taken care of while it lasts."

  He stroked my cheek gently, and I locked into his eyes, desperately searching for relief, but none came.

  I don't know if you have ever been gripped by extreme and constant pain, and I hope you never will. It stops time, leaving you in an unbelievable bubble of existence that is straight from hell. There is no pause from the agony, just searing, constant never-ending pain. You would do anything to make it stop. You would kill yourself. You would hope your heart would stop beating, because every beat is thundering through your body, multiplying the pain as blood rushes through your veins.

  But I could not kill myself. I could not move. All I could do to try and stay sane was to look at something. So I looked at Elijah, and I looked at Daniel.

  Before sunrise Daniel fell asleep in his chair, despite trying to stay awake. I could hear Elijah's labored breathing. The doctor behind the glass wall was looking at a computer screen, clearly forcing himself to stay awake.

  I heard a loud crack. It must have been in my mind, because Daniel did not wake up. It felt like I had been cracked open vertically, from my toes to the top of my head.

  And then, suddenly, the pain was gone. I took one huge, careful breath, afraid to move lest it came back. It didn't.

  I felt an odd sensation on and in my back and turned my head. Nothing there. Then I realized I had moved. The paralysis was gone.

  I sat up on the bed. No pain. I stepped down, and to my amazement Daniel did not wake up at the sound of my stepping down. I looked down and understood why. I was not standing on the floor - I was floating at a finger's width above it.

  I understood what must have happened.

  I concentrated on Elijah's face, and without taking a step I glided to his bedside.

  I stood there, not knowing what to do, but then I felt something unfurl on my back. It was a very strange feeling. I could feel a new part of my body that had never been there before. It was like being aware of a new arm, or leg. It was definitely there, and somehow I knew exactly how to use it.

  I heard Daniel draw a breath behind me.

  "Dana..." he said quietly.

  I turned around. He was standing, with amazement in his eyes. He looked wary of me, which was strange.

  I, on the other hand, was oddly calm. I listened to the strange sensation on my back, and in my mind, and concentrated. I breathed deeply and slowly, and surrended to whatever was happening.

  There, by the bedside of an injured Nephilim, facing another, I turned into one. My wings opened like the petals of a blossom and filled the room with their glow.
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br />   "Silver..." I heard Daniel whisper, "you have silver wings!"

  I thought about moving my wings, just a little, and a new energy rushed into my body when the wings obeyed. It was as if I was breathing with all my body, not just my lungs. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the delicious feeling of unhindered breathing, the like of which I had never experienced with my human lungs.

  I turned and looked into Elijah's eyes, feeling the same surge of compassion as before, when I saw him lying on the floor, only now the emotion was ten times stronger. I bent over him, and kissed him on the forehead. I did not think consciously about what I was doing; it was as if a wordless consciousness was functioning through me. I did not obey it, I was it.

  Then Daniel was by my side. He said something, but I could not hear what it was because I was so concentrating on Elijah. I felt my wings spread out around me. Gently as feathers they bent down and matched the shape of Elijah's torn wings, covering them completely, and I bent down as close to his damaged body as I could without touching his skin. I realised that I was humming, but it was not a song, just an unchanged melody that emanated from deep inside me. I wasn't even sure the voice came from my vocal chords - it was more as though the cells of my body were producing the sound from invisible strings inside me, each resonating with their own voice, creating a mesmerising melodic drone like that of a beehive. My analytical mind vanished into the sound and my being spread out to levels I had no words for.

  I stayed out of human consciousness for a long time. I do not know what happened physically, but my mind was traveling in odd realms. I could see beautiful colors, mingled with gold and silver. I felt total happiness, yet I could sense sadness, compassion, and fear somewhere underneath. But I was above them, safe.

  I saw darker veins of energy. I approached them, and touched them with my mind, and they dissolved, and returned to beauty. I could have stayed there forever; I had never felt anything like this weightless joy before.

  Then there was a sliver of beautiful, electric blue, and I followed it with my mind, eager to touch its beauty. It became bigger, and finally enveloped me, and that is when I became aware of my physical surroundings again.

  I was still standing at the ward, and Elijah was still lying on his bed. My wings were no longer touching his.

  The odd thing was that Elijah's wings were now whole, healed. He was staring at me with unbelieving eyes, which were... fearful? Longing? Daniel... yes, Daniel was there too, holding me, in fact, with his beautiful, electric blue wings.

  "What happened...?" I whispered, not quite back in my mind, closing my eyes at the deliciousness of his blue energies.

  "You healed his wings," Daniel spoke as if he could not have believed what had happened. "You used the power of your wings, and you healed them."

  I moved and Daniel stepped back. I felt as if I was falling, when his wings let me go.

  "How...? Where was I?"

  "You need to calm down first. Your energies are now so high you could electrocute someone," Daniel stepped even further back.

  I wondered why his eyes were so carefully hiding any emotion. I looked back at Elijah, and his eyes were now full of emotion when they locked with mine. There was definite sadness there, and longing. For the briefest moment I remembered seeing a vision of a young, tall, blonde woman, when traveling in the odd realms of the mind, but I might have imagined it.

  Then I noticed there were others in the room too. Lilith. Grandma. Somehow Diana had also appeared. Reggie was there, squeezing the old book against his chest, his mouth half open with excited wonder.

  They all looked at me with round eyes. Like they were... scared of me? Only Diana was looking at me with a wide smile, clearly liking what she saw.

  "Oh stop it, you!" I tried to say lightly, but my voice shook. "I seem to have become Nephilim, then. But it's not like you weren't expecting it, and it's not as though you've not seen one before!"

  "Oh we've seen Nephilim before. But we haven't seen one like you before. You should not exist," Grandma said with amazement in her voice. "In the Nephilim world you should be a genetic impossibility."

  "Great. Are we going to start talking in riddles again?" I sighed.

  "No riddles any more, dear," Grandma decided. "But food. You need to eat a lot more now that you have your wings. Come, let's go to the cafeteria."

  My stomach growled loudly and Diana stifled a giggle. I smiled back at her, and suddenly felt like a normal teenager again, feeling giddy and light - and hungry. I was glad she was there. It made me feel less spaced out, less different.

  "Would you withdraw your wings before we go, dear?" Lilith asked, "they are quite a sight, and might scare some people."

  I had not really even looked at my wings, and peeked over my shoulder, and then up. Way up.

  "Oh... Oh wow..."

  They were beautiful! They were huge, their tips brushed the ceiling, and they were white and silver. Strong pulses of silver liquid pumped in the see-through veins. They glittered in the light.

  "I look like a Christmas angel!" I laughed, still feeling giddy with the high energies I had experienced, and Diana giggled in agreement.

  "Well, it's not Christmas now, so close them." Grandma sounded surprisingly grandmotherly.

  "It is to me..." a quiet voice said in my mind.

  It was Elijah's voice, but I did not see his lips moving. Surprised I looked into his eyes again. They were full of wonder and that inexplicable longing I had sensed in him. And then I saw Daniel's eyes, which were carefully emotionless.

  I had no idea what had caused his aloofness. I would ask later.

  "Let's go eat!" Diana opened the door to the hallway. "You must be famished."

  She was right.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  53. Beautiful Evelyn Harper

  William Donnelly had been quite happy with his work in his London bookshop. He enjoyed arranging his bookshelves alphabetically, listing each author on a separate list with the correct shelf location, keeping statistics of the books he had sold, and serving his regular customers. He ordered special books just to please his academic clientele, and was well appreciated for his expertise.

  He had managed to build a good reputation as a man of letters, whose passion was books. Even to an extent his clients thought he kept his little bookshop only as a hobby, to be around his beloved books, and to fund his own research.

  They were right. But they did not know how expensive his research was for him. He had to buy very rare books and manuscripts, which were often hidden in monasteries, or in private libraries whose owners knew their value full well. He was up to his ears in debt, and saw no way out of his predicament, other than selling his pricey books. And he could not force himself to do that.

  William Donnelly was at his wits' end. Another letter had arrived from his major creditor, demanding payment in quite impolite terms. He had no idea how he could ever pay the sum he owed. He had even received pre-payments from his customers for books he had not yet bought – and now had no money to buy either.

  Then came Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee. On 21st of July in the year 1887 Mr. Donnelly was standing near Westminster Abbey in order to see the arrival of the Queen. She arrived in an open landau, but much to Mr. Donnelly's disappointment she did not wear a crown. Instead she wore a bonnet. But no one could deny the sight was magnificent – the handsome Indian cavalry, the Queen's cream-colored horses – the guests... such a fine spectacle!

  He tried to distract himself from his gloomy thoughts by joining the cheerful crowd. Suddenly someone stumbled against him. He turned and saw a young lady who was about to fall to the ground. She was clearly fainting. He had no other option but to grab her and hold her up – the throng was such that he could not do much else.

  After a while the lovely young woman came to. She stared at him with her beautiful golden eyes, not knowing for a while what had happened to her.

  "I am so sorry," she blushed, "I fainted! I hope I did not do any harm?"

/>   "Oh no, by no means, I am happy I managed to catch you before you fell to the ground, Miss...?" Mr. Donnelly stammered.

  Because he was. Happy, that is. The young lady was quite beautiful – pale creamy skin, amazing yellowish brown eyes, and beautifully coiffured, thick hair that brought to mind fields of wheat. She was quite tall, and he was quite short, but it did not matter. She blushed and managed to make him feel like a medieval knight who had just saved a damsel in distress.

  "Evelyn Harper," the young lady extended a dainty hand and he almost did not dare to touch the fingers.

  "William Donnelly, at your service, my lady," he bowed.

  "Not the William Donnelly who specializes in ancient myths, and has a bookshop?" Evelyn exclaimed.

  "The very same," he bowed again; cheeks slightly blushing because of being called the William Donnelly.

  "Such a glorious coincidence!" the young lady's smile made Mr. Donnelly's heart miss a beat. "My brother has antiquarian interests, including the acquisition of rare books. He would greatly appreciate your advice and would pay you well for your services. Indeed, he has intended to contact you for some time. How would it be if I invited you for afternoon tea as a thank you for your gallantry today, and you could discuss my brother's requirements with him then? Shall we say next Tuesday?"

  "Indeed, I would be honoured."

  Mr. Donnelly could not believe his luck. He almost fainted when he saw the address on the pretty visiting card that Miss Evelyn Harper gave to him. Her family clearly had a lot of money.

  Next Tuesday, dressed in his very best and spruced up in a way that his shop clients would not have recognised, he lifted the gleaming and ornate door knocker at that imposing address. A thin, very pale butler escorted him in. Mr. Donnelly couldn't quite decide his background - his hair was very shiny and black, and his skin an odd pale yellowish color. For a while he thought he might be Chinese, but his features were Mediterranean. Before Mr. Donnelly could make any more observations about him, the butler was leading him into a drawing room on the ground floor and announcing his name. Mr. Donnelly briefly noticed that the house was a small palace – there were statues, paintings, marble, gold, embroidery, and tapestries... and many of those were in the entrance hall, so the rest of the house must be even more magnificent. He was certain the tapestries were originals and centuries old.