Demon Forsaken: Demon Enforcers, Book 2

by Jenn Stark

  Despite herself, Dana was clearly intrigued. “Those were all earth-bound angels?”

  “It can’t be proven, of course. What in life can be proven when it is a question of faith as much as fact? But what is known is that God unleashed a terrible flood upon the earth at some point in the birth of history. And according to some texts, that flood was intended to wash away this apparent scourge of Nephilim and their young.”

  “So God wasn’t completely a fan, I take it.”

  “A fair assumption.”

  “And therefore Noah wasn’t a Dawn Child.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Lester’s smile was absent, a teacher lost in the magic of his story. “The loss of so many great minds was devastating to early man, but according to further texts, the Nephilim were not fully destroyed in the flood. No, it took the coming of the Jews to Canaan to wipe the immortals out entirely.”

  “Another hit from God,” Dana murmured. “Not a good track record.”

  “And yet…and yet…” Lester looked over at her. “The Dawn Children were not completely destroyed. They flourished in every culture. Sparta, Greece, Egypt, Rome, across Europe and in the highlands of Scotland. The mountains of South America. These children did not die. They were the heroes of their time, the scholars, brilliant souls caught in human bodies which, more often than not, were taller, stronger, and healed faster than those of their peers.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “A group of believers researching ancient biblical texts and other creationism stories banded together in the twelve hundreds, initially as part of the Knights Templar.” Lester was watching her now, and her expression made him smile. “Yes, those knights. In working through the genealogy, certain patterns emerged. Each generation gave birth to only one child. The children were gifted—whether in beauty, intelligence, strength, or a special skill. And in nearly every generation, the children of this line had made their mark through service to their fellow man.”

  “Well, forgive me for mentioning this, but the Knights Templar also didn’t turn out all that well, as I recall.”

  “Yes,” Lester said. “When they banded together for one of their greatest acts, to protect the pilgrims to the Holy Land, synergies began to happen. They pooled their wealth, and they accrued great power. They built churches that were in their own way as clear a marker upon the earth as the temples and pyramids of the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Mayans. They did not rule man, but they grew in prominence and stature quickly. Too quickly, as it turned out. When their order was betrayed and destroyed, it became clear that special souls like the Dawn Children could be as much a target of human jealousy as of a possible curse from God. At that time, it was decided that they should be found, nurtured, and protected as well as they could be. Surely, God would be merciful, the thinking went. Surely, these humans who had the blood of angels running through their veins would not face the wrath of the Creator, so many generations after the sins of his children. Still others felt that God was not decrying the existence of the Nephilim and their offspring at all. That the devastations brought upon this special race were the result of human failings alone, not divine anger. But either way, they had to be protected.”

  “So that’s what you’re part of, this group of people who are dedicated to protecting Dawn Children?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that’s what I am?”

  His smile was brilliant. “Yes. You are one of the Children we are dedicated to protecting. Third in line of purest blood, in fact.”

  “Purest…” Finn winced as the full impact of Lester’s statement hit Dana. “Wait. You’re breeding us?”

  “Nothing so crass as what you think,” Lester said. “There are fifteen hundred families that have been identified, spread out over the whole world. There used to be hundreds of thousands before the Great Flood, and then tens of thousands before the Dark Ages settled across Europe and before European invaders wiped out entire civilizations with their diseases.”

  “Fifteen hundred families left,” Dana said. “I get how you might think that God isn’t on your side.”

  “Your side too,” Lester said quietly. “The same hand that wrote about the defilement of the human race through the intervention of the Nephilim also wrote vividly—luridly—about the end times for humanity. Much of humanity will be destroyed, its warriors all gone, unable to stand against the tide of retribution that will be loosed upon them.”

  “Warriors,” Dana said.

  Lester didn’t bother to nod. “The identified families understood the importance of keeping the line as strong as possible. Marriages were arranged, children were fostered if they were found in dangerous environments. We have never attracted notice for our work.” He shifted his glance toward Finn. “Until recently.”

  “Uh-huh. Recently as in today, or recently as in two months ago?”

  “Do you not understand the importance of this, Dana? You’re one of the Dawn Children. You have been blessed by God.”

  “Well, great,” she said. “So now I know that I’m on your list. And presumably, so does someone else, since I’ve been jumped twice in the last day. Where does that leave us?”

  Lester snapped his gaze back to her from the stained glass window he’d been studying. “Only that we need to keep you protected. Finn can only stay a short while longer. Then we have to make your care our first priority. As it has always been.” His voice grew harder. “Since the moment you were born and given to Walter and Claire to be raised.

  Dana blinked at him. “What do you mean, ‘given to,’” she asked slowly.

  Lester’s expression shifted, becoming both calculating and cloying at once, Finn thought. Dana didn’t react to it. Perhaps in some corner of her mind, she knew. Perhaps she’d always known. “Your biological parents were not a safe environment for you.” Lester said.

  “According to who?”

  “Not all Dawn Children were moved for the good of humanity. Some turned to darker paths, and those were the ones who struck fear into the hearts of mankind. They were the ones who were hunted and shunned. They remain the ones against whom we maintain constant vigilance. They were the ones that called down rage upon all of the Children, and for good reason. They started wars and ended lives. They ruled without care or consideration. They manipulated humans in any way they could. But they carried the line of angels, and so they had to be watched. Monitored. Even protected, no matter that they were not redeemable.”

  “My birth parents weren’t redeemable, then? Or did you simply not want to go to the trouble?” Dana’s words were cold, almost automatic, and Finn fought the urge to reach for her. This was her truth, and she would face it her own way, he knew. But the moment she reached for him…

  “Your parents were already committed to the side of darkness,” Lester said quietly. “We knew it was only a matter of time before you would be as well. And with someone so strong, with such a bloodline as yours, we couldn’t allow that to happen. Not to you, and not to humanity.”

  “Where are they now?” Dana asked, and Lester sighed, hunching his shoulders. “Are they dead?” she snapped, a hint of hysteria in her voice. “Did you kill them?”

  “No!” Lester said, appearing truly shocked at the question. “They aren’t dead. They abandoned their city, however, and are off the grid. We don’t know where they are.”

  “Then how do you know if they’re alive?” Dana asked, and Lester smiled.

  “Your parents aren’t the easiest people to kill,” Lester said. “They were alive when they left you behind. And you were blessed with adoptive parents who loved you, cared for you…”

  “One of them, anyway.”

  “And sacrificed their lives for you that you might live in safety,” Lester retorted, his tone cutting. “Your birth parents never once looked for you, Dana. We expected them to, planned for it. We assigned additional security and gave your adoptive parents enough money to live in luxury, without any need or want. But it wasn’t easy. It coul
d never have been a normal life for them, the life they’d dreamed of when they were planning their wedding, for all that they didn’t know the full story.” He shrugged. “Your pain is understandable, but imagine learning that your life must irrevocably change—that you have no choice or hope for it to improve, and that you might one day be betrayed, all because of a child who desperately needed protection. They gave you that protection. Willingly.”

  Lester smiled, his eyes feverish, and Finn couldn’t help suspecting that he might have had a hand in that “willingness.”

  “Think on that, on all that has been done to keep you safe,” Lester said, his voice crisp, resolute. “I must go to make my final calls, and get the approvals I need,” he said loftily. “Be ready at eight fifteen. I’ll come for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Exeter Global Services

  Cleveland, Ohio

  8:30 p.m., Dec. 24

  “Where the hell is Lester?” Dana wrapped her arms around her body. She was cold. She was constantly cold, it seemed, especially since Lester had dropped his little bomb at the cathedral.

  Her parents had gone to the dark side, he’d said. He’d ranked them up there with criminals. Warmongers. Defilers of all that was right and good in the world. His words came back to her, crushing in on her throat, her lungs, robbing her of breath.

  She should call Claire—she knew she should, and yet—what would she say? Hi, Mom, I know you’ve been lying to me all this time, but that’s okay, Dad was too?

  Dana rubbed her forehead and paced back toward her desk. They were all in her satellite office with Lester’s workspace, Max working outside the door on a computer he’d hacked into. Finn was watching her cautiously, too cautiously, as if she might break at any minute. She scowled at him as Max poked his head through the doorway. “We’re making progress out here,” he said. “The partial list you got from Lester is helping a lot, so is having access to Exeter’s files from inside Lester’s own system. But I should probably ask—when’s he due to show up?”

  “Any minute, and I’m not sure we’re going to have much warning. How long will it take you to get out and make it look like you’re doing nothing but taking up space?”

  Max tilted his head, considering. “Couple of minutes, tops. I’ll be at the ready for emergency stoppage the minute you say the word. Hey—” His face lit up. “We’ve got his goons at the front door too. They’ll sound the alert when he comes in, won’t they? That’ll help.”

  “Yes, it will.” Dana pulled out her cell phone to contact Lester’s chief bodyguard as Max returned to his work, leaving Finn and her alone. The place was crawling with security, posted at odd intervals up and down the cube rows. Lester had sent all his shift-work staff home other than the guards—at 8:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve, he knew no work was going to get done. And considering who he was housing in his private office, the fewer people who knew about the activities of Exeter, the better.

  After relaying directions that she figured had about an eighty percent chance of being followed, she pocketed her phone and looked at Finn. “Are you going to say anything or just stand there staring at me?” she asked him as she glanced at the paperwork on Lester’s desk. It was the next year’s planning for Exeter’s security upgrades, which she’d had couriered over early, because it was one of the few things she could get done even from her home. She’d spent hours on the document, tracing Lester’s activities for the past year, calculating his expenses in services and personnel, trying to guesstimate what the new year would have in store.

  She frowned down at the stack of pages. Just yesterday, this information had seemed the most important thing in the world to her. She’d needed to get the document on Lester’s desk, then return to sort through her emails, maybe even addressing the end-of-year budgeting process that should have been done six weeks ago.

  Now it seemed as if it was paperwork from someone else’s life, far, far away. “I wish I understood why this is happening,” she muttered.

  At this, Finn decided to rouse himself. “You’ve had a significant shock, Dana. You need time to process it.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t have any time to process it,” she snapped, shoving her papers out of their tidy pile and into a scattered heap on the desk. “You saw Lester. He’s off his nut. He’s dangerous, and I don’t think you realize that. You’re leaving in a little over three hours, and for what? So I can cope with the fact that I’m the only Dawn Child out there who knows what we are, what might become of us? How am I going to protect them if I can’t explain to them why?”

  “That’s why Lester is—”

  “Lester is wrong,” Dana cut him off. “It’s one thing to protect a group from harm. It’s another to lie to them their entire lives, orchestrating their every move because they’re your special puppets. When I think of all the times he was there for me, watching over me, I want to throw up. I wasn’t a favorite niece of his,” she said, self-disgust threatening to choke her. “I was a favorite pet.”

  “The Society of Orion correctly identified the children who were the most at risk given their genetic makeup and life circumstances,” Finn said reasonably. “If Lester had known you were likely going to die or be turned by your birth parents, it is not at all unreasonable that the society would intercede. Imagine where you would be if he hadn’t found them—found you?”

  “Yeah, Lester’s a real humanitarian. What was I thinking?” Dana glanced at him, but her eyes sheared away before she could make real contact. “Do you know? Who my parents really are?”

  “No, I don’t,” he said. Finn’s voice was warm, comforting, but there was too much distance between them. Something that she’d need to get used to, she supposed. “Your adoptive father and mother were there for you, though. That’s more than many mortal children can say.”

  “Yeah, but Walter did more than I ever have for others, and he wasn’t one of the chosen elite,” she said bitterly. “He was simply a man trying to do his best…and doing far more than he should’ve been able to do. God! My mother doesn’t even realize what her own husband did in his free time. Can you imagine the level of deception that has to exist in order for Orion to even survive? I can’t even wrap my head around it.” She shook herself, tension riddling her. “I’ve gotta go see what Max is up to.”

  “Max will tell us when he’s found something,” Finn said. “I think you need to take some time to assimilate what you’ve learned about yourself.” He waited a beat. “And about me.”

  She looked at him, and her blood pressure spiked. “All I need to know is that you’re leaving in a few hours,” she said warningly. “That helps put everything back into perspective.”

  “Perhaps for you. I, however, have one or two more things that I need, if that’s all right.” He got up, smooth as silk in his dark clothing, and moved over to the office door. He stuck his head out and spoke to Max, but Dana couldn’t understand the words. She caught the sound of Max’s affirmative, however, and Finn pulled back inside the door before she could challenge it. He pushed the door shut, resting his hand on the knob for a brief second before pulling it away.

  “I don’t have time for a fireside chat.”

  “Neither do I,” Finn said. And he took one step toward Dana, then another.

  Unexpected heat flared deep in her belly as she stared at him. “Um, are you going to be okay?” she asked as he moved toward her. “You—you said something in your sleep that I couldn’t understand, but it didn’t sound good. Something about—about forgetting. Not wanting to forget.” She was scooting back from him as she spoke, suddenly unsure, and Finn’s grin, hard and bitter in the harsh fluorescent lights, stopped her.

  “There’s a great deal I’m not going to be able keep, Dana,” he said quietly. “Not beyond this night. I would ask, then, for something else to remember.”

  Dana could practically feel her pupils dilating. “Oh,” she whispered. “I’d like that too.”

  “Yo, Dana, Finn!” Max’s voice came t
hrough the door, urgent and excited, a moment later he pounded on the wood for emphasis. “Sorry to interrupt, but stop whatever you’re doing and come out here. You’re really going to want to see this.”

  It’d been nearly five minutes since Max had interrupted what Finn had been pretty damned sure would’ve been the second most transcendental experience of his existence, and Finn still wanted to kill the man.

  Instead, he watched Dana stare at the computer screen, the lines of strange symbols and glyphs slowly moving into intelligible language.

  It was a list of names, dates, and locations, each with an additional code that Max had already tracked to another portion of Lester’s vast computer system, and was working with an experimental decoder to unlock. Lester had never shown up, never called. But with any luck, Finn thought, they wouldn’t need him anymore.

  “That file is massive as compared to this one,” Max said. “Unless he’s encoded actual DNA in there, the only thing it can be is a multimedia file—photos, scans, that sort of thing.” He was clicking through the last commands on the file search command, glancing over to watch the progress of the main list. “I’ve cross-referenced it with the list Lester gave you,” he said, “and the names match up at the very end of each cycle. There’s no doubt about what this is.”

  “A genealogy tree,” Dana murmured. “What’s the earliest date on record?”

  “Unknown seems to be a favorite one on a lot of them,” Max said. “Earliest known is a couple of centuries BC. I don’t think they did so well on record keeping back then, or it wasn’t a big enough deal to track down ancient census lists.”

  “Primarily Middle Eastern?” she asked, scanning over the spooling rows of names and dates.

  “All over the place. But the Middle Eastern trails are among the oldest.” He sobered. “Of course, those tended to end the earliest too.”

  “End?” Dana frowned and looked at him. “How many trails do you have here? All told?”