“Well, through Deborah, really,” he said.
Her eyes glistened with tears. “I met your mother in college. We were roommates freshman year, and we became best friends. Every year after that, we roomed together. I was maid of honor at her wedding.”
I froze, not realizing their connection went so deep.
“Naturally, I knew all about your father. Your mother would agonize over him. They didn’t attend the same university, and she was worried he would fall in love with someone else. He was a very handsome guy. I assured her it would never happen, and I was right. Anyway, I met him a few times when he came for the weekend. I was dating Peter, so all four of us would go on double dates. We became great friends, and that friendship continued into adulthood.” Deborah stopped her story to dab at her eyes. “I was heartbroken when they died. So was Peter.”
He leaned across and took her hand. “They were amazing people.”
Deborah noticed my expression. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be focusing on the sadness.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I enjoy hearing about them. It’s nice to learn who they were.”
She smiled. “They would be proud of you.”
I looked away. For some reason, those words brought sentimental feelings to the surface, and I refused to get upset in front of Naomi and her parents. I had always wanted my parents’ approval even though I never knew them. I wanted them to be proud of me, of who I was, since I would continue on their legacy.
Deborah and Peter began clearing plates, and I rose to take mine to the counter. Naomi stopped me by placing a hand on my wrist. We sat in our seats, and her eyes searched mine once more. She squeezed my arm, somehow detecting my sadness and reading my thoughts.
I smiled and mouthed, “Thank you.”
She mouthed back, “You’re welcome.” Then, she took my plate to the sink.
Deborah returned and placed a cake on the table. “You have to stay for dessert. I tried out this new recipe,” she told me.
My eyes widened in surprise at the sweet treat. It looked tasty. I remained seated as the family moved about the kitchen getting dishes, silverware, and drinks. It was nice to see the dynamic between the three of them—something I’d never experienced before.
When they all sat down again, I said, “Thank you for those muffins you baked. I realize it’s been a few weeks, but they were delicious.”
Deborah smiled. “That’s the best compliment a baker could receive.”
“Do you bake professionally?” I asked as she passed out plates full of cake.
“No, I’m just a hobbyist. I’m actually a lawyer, but the baking helps me relax.”
I nodded as I took a bite of the cake along with Naomi and Peter. Deborah waited for our praise. There was a chorus of, “wonderful,” “delicious,” and “great.”
As we ate our dessert, Deborah went to clean up the dishes.
“That’s the thing,” Naomi said. “She bakes but doesn’t eat the results herself.”
“I had a taste!” Deborah complained.
“Yeah, but we’re the ones who have to finish it.” Peter patted his stomach. The man was lean and in shape, but he winked at me. “Living with a baker can be deadly if you don’t regularly work it off.”
Naomi laughed, nodding her head in agreement.
Out of curiosity, I asked, “What do you study, Naomi?”
“Biomolecular engineering,” she said.
I stopped mid-bite and stared at her. “That’s hard-core science.”
She nodded.
“I’m really bad at science.”
She laughed. “It’s not for everyone, and it’s super male-dominated. But I like a challenge.” She said all this so nonchalantly it made me like her more. Naomi was fierce. “What do you want to study once you start at Cornell?” she asked.
“Not sure yet. I like helping people, so I hope to pursue a field that involves doing that.”
After we finished our dessert, we talked some more about Naomi’s two older sisters, Simone and Laila, who both lived in the city. She seemed close with them and got all excited when she talked about them.
When it was time to leave, she walked me to the door and handed me my coat.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the coat from her after I laced up my shoes.
“No problem. Thank you for staying and enduring my parents.”
I smiled. “I like them.”
“They seem to like you too.”
A moment of silence ensued as we stared at each other. My heart raced, and my hands felt clammy.
“I’ll see you on Monday, around ten a.m. I’ll come get you from your house,” she said.
“Right. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” She opened the door. “Bye, Jordan.”
“Bye, Naomi.” I stepped out into the cold air.
“Watch out for the ice!” she called.
I pretended to trip again, and we both laughed.
When I arrived back at my house, Chamuel and Martha were still sitting in the kitchen reading the cookbook and cutting coupons even though hours had gone by.
“How was it?” Martha asked, snipping away at a piece of paper.
“Good. Great, actually. Naomi and I are meeting again on Monday,” I told her.
Chamuel remained silent and continued to focus on the book. His behavior was strange tonight…like Naomi’s parents. Suddenly, I realized what this was all about.
“You set me up!”
He looked up. “It was her idea! I just agreed.”
I turned to Martha. “Care to explain yourself?”
She chuckled. “Deborah and I have known each other for quite some time. We ran into each other at the grocery store the other day and got to talking. Naomi is the only one of her girls without a boyfriend. I told her about you and what a wonderful boy you are. She insisted you come over for dinner to get to know Naomi better, but she needed an excuse for you to come. I took some of her mail and told her I would have you bring it to them, and the rest is history.”
I turned to Chamuel. “And how do you fit into all this?”
“Martha insisted I skip making you dinner tonight. I didn’t realize she was trying to set you up with Naomi until I told the others. When it became apparent what was going on, I didn’t object since you seem to like Naomi. I’m sorry!” The words tumbled out of Chamuel’s mouth like a confession. He clearly didn’t enjoy lying.
“It’s all right, Chamuel. I’m not mad. I really did enjoy myself tonight.”
He sighed. “Good.”
I turned to go upstairs and just as quickly froze. “You said the others. They were in on this too?”
He was silent.
“Chamuel…”
“I’m sorry! I had to let them know. I don’t normally lie, and it was difficult, so I sought their advice. They all thought it was a good idea.”
I turned away, completely mortified. I thought their overprotectiveness was bad, but it was nothing compared to this intrusion. Trudging up the stairs, I returned to my room knowing seven angels, a meddling mother, and a determined housekeeper had set me up.
But…maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.
37
Jordan
New York State, Present Day
Months passed. Six in total since we arrived at the house. My body spent some of that time healing, and the majority conditioning. Michael was relentless in his training, teaching me all sorts of ways to defend myself. We started out in the gym but quickly moved to hand combat maneuvers, boxing, archery, and other weapon-wielding activities.
During our time in the house, I turned nineteen, got a new cell phone, grew about two more inches, and finally started developing some muscle. The latter was owed to Michael’s intense training program. Being stronger was definitely a plus. I thought the damage imposed on me by the fallen would leave permanent injuries, but I only had a few scars.
Interspersed throughout this time were moments with Naomi,
most of them virtual, either through text or video call. I really liked her, and I would definitely call her a friend. I knew there was potential for more, but I didn’t know how she felt about me.
Combing my wet hair out of my face, I glanced in my bathroom mirror to make sure I looked presentable. My mornings were spent with Michael, and my afternoons were dedicated to Zadkiel. He didn’t enjoy the sweaty odor that permeated my skin after a full morning of training, so every day after lunch, I would take a shower so I was ready to grace him with my presence and the fresh scent of shower gel and aftershave.
I descended the stairs to the main level and headed to the library. I was used to the layout of my parents’ house now it had become our home. I felt their presence each and every day, and it was a great comfort. Planting myself in my usual seat, I watched Jophiel flip through papers in the corner of the room. I bet they were the documents Michael had given him about the Nephilim. The thought of those vile creatures still made my hair stand on end.
Zadkiel soon came sweeping in from another part of the library with a handful of books. He placed them in front of me, and my lesson began.
I was learning about history, religion, literature, art—anything and everything that could possibly pertain to angels. Zadkiel taught me various languages, Latin being our main study. He made me learn angelic script too, those foreign-looking symbols on just about everything the angels possessed.
Four hours into my lesson, Zadkiel announced, “I think that’s enough for today. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
I was relieved. Four straight hours of concentration did a number on my brain.
On my way out to the kitchen, where Chamuel would no doubt have dinner waiting, I passed Michael. He was carrying more papers I presumed were for Jophiel. When a folded document slid out from his grasp and landed on the floor, I retrieved and unfolded it, startled by the handwriting.
“Where did you get this?” I demanded.
Zadkiel looked up when he heard the alarm in my voice.
When Michael saw the page in my hand, he tried to pry it out of my fingers. “It’s nothing that should concern you,” he said.
My grip tightened. “It is something that should concern me, Michael. Where did you get this?” My body language and voice exuded unease.
“Jordan, calm down,” Michael said. “What is it about this letter that worries you?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “That’s Sophia’s handwriting. I’d know it anywhere.”
“Wait… You know this Sophia?” Michael asked.
It was then I realized I’d never mentioned Sophia by name before in front of the angels. “Yes, I spent my entire life with her. I would recognize the way she writes.”
“Have you been in contact with her?” Michael asked.
“No,” I confessed. “Sophia is probably devastated she hasn’t heard from me. She must think I forgot about her—which is the worst thing, because she has abandonment issues from when her mom left. I’ve wanted to go see her, but we’ve been a little busy. I don’t remember her phone number either, otherwise I would have called her by now. She probably hates me.”
“You have feelings for her?” Jophiel asked. He approached my side, reaching out to read the letter.
I scrunched my face in frustration. Their assumptions were getting annoying.
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” I said. “I love Sophia like a sister. She’s my best friend, and I’d do anything for her because we’re all each other has ever had.”
Naomi was a different story. I definitely liked her as more than a friend, but they didn’t need to know that. Not yet.
“What exactly is your friend involved in?” Zadkiel asked, taking the letter from Jophiel.
“What do you mean?”
He passed the letter back to me. Although the correspondence was short, Sophia’s looping script took up most of the page.
Aziza,
I can’t give you any information on the scepter pieces because I don’t know where they are. Sister Helen isn’t concerned about them. Still haven’t located the fourteenth sphere yet. Will keep you updated on that front. If the Triune needs our help to find it, it must be important. I hope you and Yadira are all right. I haven’t heard from either of you in a while… Any news on Kat? Please be in touch soon to let me know.
Sophia
I looked up and realized Zadkiel had gathered the other angels. Martha was out again, this time at her monthly book club. They gazed at me expectantly, so I read the letter aloud.
“The Triune. Why does that sound familiar?” I asked.
“Because I made you read about them a few days ago. The book about all the angel legends,” Zadkiel said to jog my memory.
“Oh, right. They’re the group of angels who assist in protecting the bloodline?”
“That’s rumored to be one of their jobs, yes. It’s also thought they were entrusted with certain objects from Heaven after the war ensued. Objects that were related to the bloodline.”
“Like the scepter,” I said.
“Yes, or the book and sphere. The Triune must have given them to Sister Helen.”
“Which makes sense, because they are angels and would be able to touch those objects,” Chamuel said.
“Indeed,” Zadkiel agreed. “I wonder if the Triune was entrusted with Satan’s keys.”
“Why do you think that?” Michael asked.
“Well, when we were in Heaven and Seraphiel distributed our keys to us, you asked her what happened to Satan’s keys.”
Michael nodded. “Right. She said they were entrusted to others to protect them.”
“Exactly, so why not the angels of the Triune?”
“I see your point. But what caused them to use the keys?”
Zadkiel rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. There’s a lot to this puzzle we have yet to put in place.”
While everything they said made sense, there was one thing that didn’t add up: Sophia’s involvement.
“When was this letter written? Where did you get it from?” I asked Michael.
“It was written about a year and a half ago. It was among the papers Allen Clark gave to me,” he said.
I felt a sinking in my stomach. During that time, Sophia and I were seniors in high school, which must have meant she was keeping her involvement secret from me. Even worse was the mention of Allen Clark.
“Why was this letter with all those papers?”
Michael stared hard at me before saying, “Because Sophia is the bloodline, and the Nephilim have a theory that her DNA might be a way to achieve their pure form.”
“What?” I exploded.
“Jordan, calm down,” Michael pleaded.
“How do you expect me to do that? Sophia is in danger!”
“I understand, and we will protect her. But it’s only a theory. It doesn’t mean it’s true.”
I placed my hands on my head, grabbing at my hair as I tried to figure out what to do. Nothing could happen to Sophia. I would never forgive myself if it did.
“I need you to explain this to me,” I said to Michael. “I need you to tell me whatever you know.”
He nodded. “All right. Well, as I was going through ‘Operation Pure Form,’ the file Allen had not yet looked at, I stumbled upon some correspondence from the Sacrarium that confirmed there is indeed a bloodline. Don’t ask me how the Nephilim have Sacrarium correspondence. I don’t have a foolproof answer other than they somehow intercepted it.”
“You mean, there’s more than just this letter?” I asked.
“Yes, but this is the only one written by Sophia. The other correspondence is from Sister Helen to a woman named Emily, and it takes place over several years. I presumed the woman to be a member of the Sacrarium too. The first letter states ever since the child came to Holy Trinity, she has stood out among the others, but Sister Helen has tried to help her blend in. In another, Sister Helen describes how the child is progressing in her training. The last letter expla
ins she is college bound to Harvard and will still be protected by the Sacrarium.”
I winced at the mention of Harvard. That was the exact school Sophia was attending.
“The way they speak of the child in the letters made me assume she is the bloodline,” Michael said. “Otherwise, that’s all I know.”
I shook my head in shock. The explanation was logical, but it made me question everything about my childhood. All those secrets. All those untruths. All of it happening right before me, and I never knew.
“I don’t know anyone by the name of Emily,” I said.
“You probably never met her.” Michael paused. “I’m sorry about all this. I didn’t realize you knew Sophia.”
I didn’t know how to respond. All of this was terrible. Not only did the Nephilim want Sophia, but if she was the bloodline, she would have to fight Satan to complete the prophecy. There was nothing I could do to help except offer my support, and what good was that when we were dealing with cosmic battles that determined the fate of the world? I wasn’t even supporting her now. I’d left her for months without putting in the effort to get in contact. I was an awful friend, and I felt horrible about it.
Looking back, I realized all the little peculiarities from my childhood. Sister Helen would take Sophia to ballet lessons, and Sophia would come back exhausted and tired, always seeming to hate these lessons though she never quit. They weren’t “ballet lessons” at all. She had been training, preparing for her destiny. They had probably taught her everything Zadkiel was teaching me now.
As I was trying to wrap my head around all of this, Gabriel broke the silence with an important question. “Why don’t we know anything about a fourteenth sphere?”
Michael shook his head. “Probably because Father did not want us to know.”
“Well, the fourteenth sphere obviously has to do with the Triune, which is most likely why He didn’t tell us,” Zadkiel said, reading the short letter again.
“What confuses me about this letter,” Jophiel began, “is that it seems Sophia is acting as a messenger. Why would that be her role if she is the bloodline?”
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