The Genesis of Seven

by Sara M Schaller

  I nearly choked on my pizza. “Who encountered Satan?”

  “I did,” Michael said. “In Brazil.”

  “I knew we shouldn’t have split up.”

  Chamuel placed a glass of water in front of me.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He nodded, and Michael said, “It was no big deal. I handled it.”

  “Well, what did he want?” I wondered.

  “He said he wanted to talk. I knew I had no chance of fighting him off. The Six were stationed outside.”

  “What did he want to talk about?”

  “He interrogated me about the spheres, to see if I knew about a fourteenth.”

  “A fourteenth? How can there be a fourteenth? There are—were—only thirteen council members,” Zadkiel said.

  “I know. That’s what I told him.”

  “If it exists, what does he want to do with it?” Jophiel asked.

  “I’m not sure. We were asking each other questions, but neither of us received any answers. All I know is, he’s going after two things.”

  “Which are…?” Gabriel asked.

  “The Sacrarium and Lilith.”

  The first concerned me because it meant Sister Helen was in danger. The second alarmed Uriel.

  “Lilith!” he exclaimed. “How is that she-devil not dead yet?”

  Michael shook his head. “I don’t know. I really have no answers to any of this. But the two of them together means devastation.”

  “Devastation?” I was surprised by Michael’s words. “Is Lilith really that bad?”

  “She can be. She’s wanted revenge since the war in Heaven. Do you realize how long it’s been since then? All that vengeance bottled up inside for so long changes people, especially her, who I’m sure must be hell-bent on fulfilling the prophecy. And if you think Satan is something to be feared, wait until she returns. Her influence over him has proven no good comes about when the two of them work together.”

  “Then we have to stop him from finding her,” I said.

  Michael nodded. “I’m afraid I might have led him to the Sacrarium.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was investigating two cases. One was for a client. The other was a personal case to track the Sacrarium. I wanted to see if I could find them.”

  “Why?” Jophiel asked.

  “Because they’ve obviously been keeping tabs on us, so I wanted to keep tabs on them.”

  “Why should that concern us? We have nothing to do with them,” Uriel said. His unease about the Sacrarium could not be swayed.

  “I know. I thought that too, but now, it seems we are involved with them since Sister Helen sent the backpack to us. Anyway, I’ve been mapping their location, and every so often, they move around as if they’re trying to hide something. In hindsight, I realize they were trying to evade the fallen and keep the backpack safe.”

  We all knew that was true. Sister Helen said as much in her letter.

  “This map,” Michael continued, “I had it hanging in my office. I didn’t think I was making any progress, but Satan seemed to think differently…like he knew where to find them.”

  At this, I was resigned to find Sophia. She was the only one who might know where Sister Helen was, and we needed to find Sister Helen because she was very much in danger.

  Before I could tell them my idea, Michael said, “There’s more I have to tell you. Not about the Sacrarium, but about something else I was working on.”

  We all waited for him to continue.

  “This man came to me. He went by the name Allen Clark. I say that because I’m almost certain that’s not his real name. I think he was undercover and desperately needed help. He gave me a bunch of documents and told me to take them to the authorities. He explained everything he could, but he said he was running out of time.” Michael stopped, clearly upset by the memory. “I don’t know what happened to Allen. I’ve tried searching for him, but it’s like he disappeared. I’m unsure if his cover was blown, or if he was pulled out of the operation. All I know is, they were after him.”

  “Who are ‘they?’” Gabriel asked.

  Michael looked forlorn. “The Nephilim,” he said.

  Uriel exploded. “What do you mean, the Nephilim? They were eradicated centuries ago!”

  “Not completely,” Michael declared. “They found a way to survive, to hide…and to procreate.”

  31

  Michael

  São Paulo, Ten Months Ago

  I was sitting at my desk reading through the newspaper when I heard footsteps running up the stairs. Alarmed, I rose from my chair as the door to my office opened.

  A man entered and slammed the door closed behind him. He was tall and muscular and had sunny blond hair with a beard and mustache.

  “Can I help you?” I asked in Portuguese.

  “I don’t have time for pleasantries,” he responded in English, breathing heavily. Given the man was lean and well-conditioned, I knew it wasn’t only the run upstairs that had tired him out. He wore black medical scrubs and athletic shoes and was holding an enormous stack of files. “You’re a private investigator, right?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  He brushed past me and set the stack of files down on my desk. With his back turned, I noticed a gun shoved in the waistband of his pants.

  “I suggest you start explaining why you’re here before I call the cops,” I warned.

  He abruptly stopped shuffling through the files. “I don’t mean you any harm,” he said, straightening to face me. “I need your help. A man is after me, and I’m running out of time.”

  It was strange, but every instinct told me to believe him. “All right.” I strode to my desk to see what he had brought—financial statements, patient records, and appointment logs. Nothing made sense.

  “I need you to take these documents to the authorities. Not here in Brazil, but New York.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  He was quick to respond. “Because the authorities here can’t be trusted, but those in New York will know what to do.”

  I simply stared. Nothing about this encounter was normal, especially not with the way he was acting, but his belief in the New York authorities led me to believe he was working for them undercover. My gaze shifted slowly to land on the only piece of jewelry he wore, a St. Michael medallion. It could be pure coincidence, but I didn’t believe in coincidences. To me, the necklace was a sign, and I naturally wanted to trust him.

  “All right, but can I at least have your name and some sort of explanation?” I sat down in the chair behind my desk and offered him the seat in front of it.

  He sank down. “My name is Allen Clark,” he began. “I work for a company called Geneloom. They’re a genetic testing company, and I have evidence they’re conducting a secret experiment with one of their biggest partners.” He glanced around as if to check we were safe. “I should have time to explain everything to you. Let me start at the beginning.”

  I gestured for him to go ahead. “Please do.”

  “Geneloom is based in New York, but they have smaller laboratories throughout the world, such as here, in São Paulo. On the surface, Geneloom is like any other genetic testing company. They sell kits for people to do mouth swabs at home and send them back in the mail to get their DNA results. They’re one of the largest companies in their line of business and are financed through donations and sponsors—and of course, the revenue they make from selling the DNA kits. However, all of this is a front.

  “One of Geneloom’s biggest partners,” Allen continued, “is Giant Heart Healing Center. They’re a rehab center based in New York, though their reach is slowly growing throughout the United States. They take in troubled young men and women. This means young homeless people, runaways, teens trying to get out of the system. Giant Heart’s access to these young individuals is the reason Geneloom partnered with them. Well, that and for extra funding.”

  “Can you tell me more?”

  He nodded. “
During the company’s early years, Giant Heart admitted young individuals, age eighteen to twenty-five, into their rehab program. Giant Heart knew these individuals would be easier to manipulate as they were in a vulnerable state. On arrival, they had to undergo a series of DNA blood tests. This was phase one. Giant Heart justified these tests by saying they wanted to support the well-being of their patients, so knowing about any illnesses or addictions was vital to the healing process. The tests meant nothing for about ninety percent of patients, but the other ten percent had a target put on them because of their favorable genes.”

  “Favorable genes for what?”

  “For phase two of their secret experiment. From that ten percent, Geneloom and Giant Heart narrowed the pool even further, selecting only a few candidates with no serious health issues, with the intent of using them to create some kind of extraordinary offspring.”

  “Wait, let me get this straight… Geneloom was conducting a secret experiment and was in cahoots with Giant Heart to use and manipulate their patients?” It sounded so absurd.

  “Yes, but they only took patients eighteen and older since they could legally make their own decisions. The patients who gave consent willingly handed over their reproductive DNA. Some of the women even consented to be surrogates.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Why were the patients agreeing to this?”

  “Because Geneloom and Giant Heart were enticing them with money and luxury, the means for a better life.”

  “I know people do odd things when they’re desperate, but this is going too far.”

  Allen shrugged. “You could say that. But for these patients, it made sense to go along with the experiment. What they had to do was quite harmless in exchange for their freedom and stability.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “What about now? You keep talking about this like it happened in the past. Are the companies still working on this experiment? Are they still using these people?”

  “No. They only performed three trials before something went terribly wrong. For years, they were prevented from going any further. Now, they’re back to phase one, taking blood tests of all Giant Heart patients and using DNA results from Geneloom’s customers without their knowing. Their intent is to run the DNA samples through sequences to mutate the genes.”

  “And if the sequences work, what happens?”

  Allen shook his head. “I’m not sure. All their attempts have been unsuccessful. I imagine because whatever extraordinary offspring they’re trying to create is unrealistic.”

  “And they do this all secretly, on the side?”

  Allen nodded. “Yes. To the public, both Geneloom and Giant Heart operate normally. No one on the outside knows of their nefarious actions.”

  “Is there any foul play?”

  Allen sighed. “I have no evidence of it, and if there is, it’s hard to find. No one talks, and everything is covered up. I know they have a man who takes care of loose ends, only because he’s currently after me.”

  “What do you know about this man?”

  Allen grew silent. He clearly had a history with him as his whole demeanor changed. Before, a sense of justice filled his words. Now, it was sadness and revenge.

  “I don’t know his name. I really don’t know anything about him. All I know is that they call him the Sentinel because he’s always watching and always ready to take care of business when something goes wrong. In truth, he killed…” Allen stopped, torn up by his emotions. “He killed my brother. We were on a mission.” He paused and looked at me, realizing he’d slipped up with his choice of words. “Mission” hinted at some sort of covert operation.

  Instead of asking questions, I motioned for him to continue.

  “We were on a mission when the Sentinel showed up,” Allen said hesitantly. “He obviously found out about what we were doing. When he arrived, he took me off-guard and shot me twice. Once in the leg, once in the side. Then, he went after my brother and shot him square in the chest three times.

  “I remember lying on the ground, trying to figure out what happened. All I saw was the brim of his fedora and his black half-face mask. When he realized I wasn’t dead, he raised his gold-plated gun to shoot me again, and that was when I noticed his black ring with a gold double helix engraved on it. I shouldn’t remember all these details, but when your life flashes before your eyes, you start to focus on the little things.

  “Before another shot rang out, I rolled off the side of the cliff we were on and into the sea. Everyone says I shouldn’t have survived. But I did, and I know it was for a reason. I have to avenge my brother.” He shook his head. “No one supported me. No one listened to me. Some thought I was crazy, perhaps a little too obsessive. But I had four distinct features to help me find the Sentinel. Ever since, I’ve been following him, and he led me to all this because he secretly works for Geneloom.”

  A long silence ensued as I processed Allen’s words.

  Hurriedly, he stood up. “I’ve said too much, but now you know why you need to take this information to the authorities.”

  I stood too. “Why can’t you?”

  “Because I know too much, and the Sentinel is after me.”

  “Maybe you should stay here. I can watch out for you, and we can go to the authorities together,” I suggested.

  “No.” Allen was adamant. “I cannot put you in harm. Besides, you’re my only hope of stopping these people—and they need to be stopped.”

  “Why me? Why trust me?” I wondered.

  “I don’t know. My feet led me here, and you seem like a good man.” He grabbed at his necklace. “Your name is Michael, and I pray to him all the time.”

  This was definitely a sign.

  I looked down at the files. “This is all your evidence?”

  “Yes. It took me a long time to get all of it. I grabbed the last documents this morning, so I haven’t had time to go through them all. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  I grabbed a pencil and a stack of sticky notes. “Which file haven’t you gone through?”

  “It was called ‘Operation Pure Form.’ I think it’s essentially what I’ve told you, but it wouldn’t hurt to look.”

  I jotted the name down and stuck it to the folders. “I know you have to go, but is there anything else I should know?” I asked.

  Allen wracked his brain for any other information. “The only thing I haven’t told you about is one reported incident of something that went wrong, but the documentation of it is incomplete, probably on purpose.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. It was during the trial experiments, but I know whatever happened made them stop and change their operation. Jazema Grigori was in charge of Geneloom, and she needed a doctor for the trial experiments, so she hired Dr. Salma Amir, a reproductive geneticist. Parvati Irin, the owner of Giant Heart, approved of Grigori’s choice, and so the secret experiment began. But Amir didn’t know what Grigori and Irin intended. At the time, Giant Heart had a small number of patients. They only needed five willing participants, so this didn’t matter, but something triggered Irin to eventually volunteer herself for the trial as well.

  “By then, Amir had found out about what they were doing and planned to stop it. That was when something went terribly wrong. Like I said, the documentation is incomplete. All I know is, Amir and Irin died in a lab accident. After that, Grigori remained in charge of Geneloom and led it to where it is today. She recruited her sister, Penelope Grigori, to take charge of Giant Heart.”

  I was frozen in place. The names Grigori and Irin were far too coincidental—and I didn’t believe in coincidences. Quickly, I searched through the files on my desk for the new one Allen had found: “Operation Pure Form.” I opened the folder and briefly scanned through the top page until I saw four words I was dreading to find.

  The Nephilim. The Watchers.

  “Are you all right?” Allen asked.

  I looked up at him. “Yes, it’s just a
lot to take in.”

  He nodded in agreement, then said quickly, “I’d better leave now.”

  “Wait.” I strode over to him and plucked a jacket and a baseball cap from the coat rack. “Take these. They’ll help draw less attention.”

  He put them on. “Thanks.”

  After he left, I stared at the door and tried so badly not to question Father’s command not to act. But it was hard to follow such an order in times like these, when fate had brought Allen to me, and Allen had led me to the Nephilim and the Watchers.

  32

  Jordan

  New York City, Present Day

  I gaped at Michael after he finished his story. I didn’t know who the Nephilim and the Watchers were, but I knew what they were doing was dreadful. It must have been hard for Michael to carry the burden alone for so long.

  “Did you send the papers to the authorities?” Gabriel asked.

  “Yes, but I kept the last file to myself. No human would understand the information inside.”

  “Rightfully so,” Uriel agreed. “I can’t even comprehend how the Nephilim have survived, let alone a human trying to fathom what they are.”

  Michael nodded. “Without those names, Grigori and Irin, I wouldn’t have suspected anything. But I know those are other names for the Watchers, which means the Nephilim have not only created fake identities but are using these names as a way to glorify their forefathers.”

  Quickly, I interrupted. “Wait! Can we stop for a second? I’m so confused.” They were flinging around cryptic words in every sentence, and it was becoming impossible to keep up.

  “Where would you like us to start?” Zadkiel asked.

  “The Nephilim. What are they? What’s their history?”

  “The Nephilim are half-human, half-angel,” Zadkiel supplied. “Their fathers were a group of angels called the Watchers who were sent to Earth to teach humans. Instead, they became infatuated with women and committed the most forbidden sin any angel could: reproducing with humanity. Father was so angry, He locked them out of Heaven and sent the Flood to destroy them. Apparently, it didn’t work. Now, the Watchers and the Nephilim are considered fallen angels even though they didn’t fall with Satan.”