The old woman checked that the door was locked, pulled the curtains tighter together, and beckoned Luci to a barely visible small door behind the shop counter.
‘Get in there.’
‘You want to hide me in a cupboard?’
Marisse sighed. ‘Get in. You’ve seen the markings on my door and what the villagers think of me. We can’t talk out here.’
Narrow stone stairs led down into a dark, underground chamber. Candles were attached to the wall every few steps, which Marisse lit with a click of her fingers. Luci was impressed; this woman’s gifts were beyond those she’d seen in others.
‘Watch your head. It’s a low ceiling,’ the old woman said.
‘What is this place?’
‘A cellar. The house used to be a brewery. Through here.’
Marisse opened a second door, and they entered a room that looked like a library—but instead of books, there were jars upon jars of ointments and herbs labelled with clear, neat writing. Luci peered closer at the tiny, white labels.
‘Where did you learn to write like this?’ she asked.
‘My father showed me.’
‘You know what he was then? You met him?’
‘Yes.’ Marisse lit some more candles and an oil lamp that sat on the table. ‘My father practically raised me after my mother died while pregnant. He was unable to save her, but he did save me. I lived with my grandmother in Germany, and he would visit some days, always in the early morning.’
‘How did your mother die?’
‘An accident with a horse. My father believed she was murdered and that I was the target.’
‘And do you still see your father?’
It was a strange question to ask an old woman, but Luci knew what Marisse’s father was.
‘No, they killed him too. Azantiel was his name.’
Luci took a sharp intake of breath. She’d known the lesser angel—not within her own circle, he was one of the more vocal ones from the lower ranks. He’d been an obedient member of the Choir and one of Mikhael’s favourites.
There was only one way to kill an angel, and Mikhael was the only one that could do it. Why was Azantiel dead?
‘Azantiel was one of the good ones,’ Luci said. ‘Did Mikhael kill him?’
‘Yes. You knew them both?’
‘A long time ago, but I’m no longer aware of what their kind do.’
‘Their kind? Are you not one of them?’
Luci shook her head.
Her whisperers had done well in leading her to Marisse. All over the globe, she had people lurking, listening, and reporting back to her. Her secret messengers were recruited for their ruthless talents. They lived between the shadows and only existed for her, no lives of their own and no idea of what they were doing or for whom. She didn’t see it as a violation of their freedom; she’d rescued these men and women over the years prior to their being sentenced to death. As far as the real world knew, they were already dead—but Luci kept them around so that they could help her find Zadkiel.
That was all she cared about, that and killing his father.
Her whisperers had told her that a woman with strange powers had been shunned from her village in Germany. She’d escaped an arrest in Fulda in 1606 and then run away to Roermond in the south of the Netherlands.
‘If you are not an angel, then what are you?’ Marisse asked again. ‘Why can’t I feel you?’
‘I’m Luci,’ she replied, picking up one of the bottles on the shelf and smelling the contents before replacing the cork lid.
Looking around the room it was clear this woman had power and knowledge. A half-human, half-angel whose father had been murdered by the same being that tried to murder Luci. Was Mikhael after Marisse, too? How much did the old lady know? Would she be able to lead her to Zadkiel?
‘My father never spoke of a woman called Luci.’
‘I’m not a woman.’
She looked the old lady in the eye, but Marisse didn’t once waver. Over the centuries, Luci had grown accustomed to reading people. Having lost her powers to feel emotion, she had learned the hard way whom to trust and whom to avoid, who was strong and who would betray her. Marisse was far from weak.
‘I’m a fallen archangel,’ Luci continued. ‘Did your father never talk of someone named Lucifer? The mother of all creation who shaped your world, raised your people, and ruled alongside Mikhael until he murdered her for loving their son too much?’
Marisse clamped her hands over her mouth and then threw herself to the ground in a kneeling position. She rested her forehead on the cold stone floor and stretched her arms out on either side of her.
Luci laughed. ‘Get up, get up. It’s been a long time since anyone fell to their knees for me. Did Azantiel teach you that, too?’
‘Yes, Your Highness. He said you were a queen among angels. A martyr for the cause. He was certain you’d return one day, that you were too powerful to be gone forever. How did you survive Archangel Mikhael’s blade?’
Luci had met a few Nephilim in her time on Earth but never one like Marisse. Never one who knew so much about the realm.
‘I rose again. Angels can’t do that, but it appears archangels can. Nobody knows I’m alive.’
‘Are you here to hurt me?’ Marisse asked, standing with more strength and ease than the average woman her age.
‘No, I’m here to get answers.’
Marisse nodded slowly. She leant against the wall, her head cocked to one side.
‘How did you find me?’
Luci walked over to the old woman and held her face by her chin, turning it this way and that. The only light in the cellar came from a few candles, the oil lamp, and two high windows. People’s feet could be seen walking along the cobbles above them. Outside, the day had finally started.
‘I found you by chance,’ Luci said. ‘I have people that listen for me, that tell me things and send me messages. I’ve been hearing of your powers for some time. I was hoping to find a half-angel, and I did. You hide it well, Marisse. What is the matter with your eyes?’
The old woman pulled her face away from Luci’s grasp and walked over to a table in the corner of the room where a jug and bowl stood. She poured some water into the palm of her hand, rubbed her face with it, and looked up. Her eyes shone in the gloom of the room like two glowing embers. They were the colour of flames, bright yellow cat’s eyes.
Luci smiled. ‘Aha, there it is. My goodness, you’re good. What is that trick you do?’
‘My father taught me everything I know, including what herbs to mix so I could bathe my eyes and change their colour.’
‘What else did he tell you about being a Nephilim?’
‘He explained my healing abilities, how I would be able to make things move, and how people would fear and hate me. That is why I remained unmarried and childless, and why I don’t stay in one place for too long. I can’t let people get close to me because I put them in danger. Mikhael killed my father and wants my kind dead. I hate him.’
‘You’re in good company. He tried to murder me too, and then he took away the son we had together.’
‘Zadkiel?’
Luci grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘You know my boy? Take me to him! Where is he? Does he know I’m alive?’
Marisse disentangled herself from the fallen angel’s hold and shook her head.
‘No, I have never seen an angel. The Choir think I died with my mother sixty-three years ago.’
‘So how do you know about Zadkiel?’
‘My father figured it out. He realised you’d given birth on Earth and that the child must have been special for Mikhael to have murdered you. When Zadkiel was brought Home, after he was supposedly killed in Italy, my father could tell straightaway that he belonged to Mikhael. It was the eyes, their extreme blueness. He was surprised that nobody else had guessed the truth.’
‘Did he confront Mikhael about it?’
‘Of course not. He was smarter than that. Instead, he got closer to
the archangel. He became his closest friend and learned everything he needed to know. Over time, he discovered the warrior king’s secrets, including how to destroy the sword. He then made sure he had a child on Earth; in fact, he had many so he could pass on the truth should anything happen to him. He told me everything.’
Luci folded her arms so the old lady couldn’t see how much her hands were trembling. She’d known Mikhael for an eternity but had no knowledge of how he could be defeated. For years, she’d reasoned that even if she were able to get the sword off him and hack off his wings, he would still return just as she had. As long as that sword was in existence, Mikhael would rule their version of both heaven and Earth. Yet this woman knew something she didn’t.
‘You know how to take away his sword?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it will stop Mikhael’s powers?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will you tell me how?’
‘That depends.’
II.
Luci ran her finger along the jars on the shelves as Marisse fidgeted awkwardly beside her.
‘Witch hunters?’ she asked the old woman.
‘Yes, I’m hoping you can help me. I escaped from them in Germany seven years ago, but I fear they’ve found me here.’
‘What would they want with you?’
Marisse walked to the back of the cellar and returned with a book. She laid it on the table next to Luci and leafed through the thick pages, the writing inside faded in places.
‘They want this. It’s the book in which I wrote my father’s teachings. They want to burn me and the Book of Light. Mikhael will stop at nothing to hunt down my kind, even if it means working alongside the church to rid the Nephilim of our gifts. My father was right when he said powerful men would see my abilities as an act against their make-believe God. Over the centuries, Mikhael has taught men to hate women who say no to them—because of you.’
Luci sighed and nodded. By defying Mikhael, she’d inadvertently killed many a powerful woman who had followed her.
‘Do you think the witch hunters are yet another ploy by Mikhael to rid the world of Nephilim?’
‘Absolutely, along with any other woman who makes a man’s life difficult. Not long after my father was murdered, the hunters began to sweep through Europe, burning and drowning women and even the odd man and child—anyone who possessed a connection with the natural energy of the universe.’
Luci looked over the old woman’s shoulder at the pages filled with notes and drawings, all annotated in the script of angels.
‘You wrote all of this?’
‘Yes. It’s an angelic history—but one not written by the victors. It contains everything my father learned about his own kind and Mikhael. He told me that, after the warrior lord killed you and brought Zadkiel Home, he changed; he became angry and stopped the conception of Nephilim—creating the God fallacy as his cover. To begin with, my father couldn’t understand the connection between your death and Mikhael not wanting women and angels to mix, but he worked it out. The Nephilim hold the key to Mikhael’s destruction, so he stays safe by making sure none of us exist.’
Nephilim were the key? Luci turned the pages of the book and squinted at the writing. It had been a long time since she’d read angelic script. It made sense; everything this woman said made sense. She had no doubt Mikhael would have happily killed his own son had he been a Nephilim and not pure angel blood. Poor Zadkiel had no idea how powerful he really was. She had to find him.
‘What do you have to do to be accused of witchcraft around these parts then?’ Luci asked.
Marisse shrugged. ‘Not a lot. From what I gather, a confident woman with a mind of her own is enough to make the hunters suspicious. We, the ones who don’t worship a fake deity but listen to the earth and her energy instead, are the ones they fear. Many of us have angel blood running though our veins—the healers, the creators, the deep thinkers—but not all of us. I’ve helped women bring babies into this world peacefully and safely. I’ve laid my hands upon the scared and calmed them. I work with nature and her four elements—fire, water, air, and earth—and I feel what others feel. I do good. So, naturally, they blame me for the bad as well.’
‘The bad?’
‘Unexplained deaths, paralysed farm animals, people losing their jobs. I was accused of all sorts back in Germany, but I managed to escape. Surely you saw the marks upon my door? The hunters are now in the Netherlands, and if they find me here, they will burn me at the stake. They say us witches worship the Devil.’
This wasn’t news. For sixteen hundred years, Luci had seen those who were different be persecuted for their free thinking. Jesus himself had done nothing but preach love and help the less fortunate, and he’d been killed for it. Neither was she surprised Mikhael was behind it all. Luci couldn’t risk being caught up in this hysteria and revealing herself to the angels, yet she had to find out how to rid the realm of Mikhael and get her boy back. This woman was the only person she’d met in centuries who appeared to have the answers to all her questions.
‘Devil worshipping?’ Luci asked, laughing. ‘That’s ridiculous. I am the Devil, and I’m really not all that bad, I promise.’ Noticing how Marisse’s bright yellow eyes had begun to soften, Luci placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Perhaps they could be friends after all. ‘Tell me, Marisse, how can I help you?’
‘Your powers. You said earlier that I didn’t follow your commands; does that mean others do? Is that how you’ve survived this long?’
Luci nodded. ‘I have power over the minds of humans, if that’s what you mean. Plus, I’ve been known to kill a few men who have stood in my way. If you help me get my revenge on that bastard Mikhael, I promise to keep the hunters away from you. I’ll destroy those who wish you harm.’
Marisse closed her eyes in thanks and smiled. ‘Thank you, and please thank your whisperers for leading you to me.’ She pointed at the book. ‘Let me begin by showing you my notes. There’s something in here about…’ She looked up at the window above Luci’s head where a pair of shoes was just visible through the narrow glass. ‘I have to go. Someone has come to see me.’
Luci grabbed her arm as she headed to the door.
‘I need to see the book, Marisse. Forget about customers.’
‘I can’t. This girl is in pain, a lot of pain. She came to me a few days ago. Can you not feel her turmoil?’
Luci shook her head. ‘I lost that ability along with my wings. Can she not wait? I need you to show me the book.’
‘Her name is Elien, and last week she lost a baby. She’s practically a child herself. If I don’t help her now, she may well die within the month. Her body is not healing well. You still think she should wait?’
Luci shook her head. She had no issue with human adults dying, as far as she was concerned most were dispensable—but not children and definitely not babies. Someone was knocking frantically at the door. Marisse ran up the stairs, the fallen angel following closely behind.
The urgent knocking had stopped by the time they had reached the top of the basement steps. Marisse yanked open the front door, but there was nobody there. She ran into the street.
‘Stop!’ she called out after the figure of a girl in the distance. ‘Elien, stop! I can help you.’
Luci watched the interaction from inside the store, curious as to why anyone would go out of their way to help a stranger. Was the old woman in need of money that badly? Or was it more than that? Even back when Luci’d had the ability to feel the pain and emotions of others, she never remembered caring about them. The only people she’d ever helped were those who could better her own life.
Marisse finally returned to the house with the girl, locked the door behind them, and checked that the curtains were still closed. She paid no attention to Luci, who was now leaning against the wall and tapping her foot against the flagstone floor.
The girl was pale and nervous, but she was also pretty in a delicate way. Something about her was familiar�
�although over the last sixteen centuries Luci had seen so many people they were all beginning to look the same.
‘Did anyone follow you here?’ Marisse asked Elien, who she’d seated beside the fireplace. The girl was shaking, her eyes darting over the bare store. She looked at Luci and then quickly looked away again. The fallen angel sighed; she couldn’t believe she was putting off getting information for this pathetic child.
‘Nobody followed me,’ she stuttered. ‘Although I’ve noticed a man watching me lately, I don’t think he means me ill. Will I get in trouble for coming here? It’s just the other day, when I told you about my problems, you mentioned herbs. I have been scared to come back because people say that this house…what you do…is evil. But the bleeding won’t stop. The pain is unbearable.’
Marisse rushed out to the cobbled patio at the back of the house and drew water from the well. She placed a clay cup of water on the counter and opened the small door in the wall.
‘One moment, I won’t be long,’ she said before descending the stairs to the basement.
Luci eyed the girl. She had silky gold hair gathered up in a bonnet and a smattering of freckles on her pale face. Marisse was right; she was too young to be a mother. She was also utterly petrified.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
The girl jumped.
‘Elien. Are you a healer too?’
Luci shrugged. ‘Of sorts. Why are you so scared?’
Before the girl had time to answer, Marisse came bustling back with two small jars in her hand. She sprinkled a pinch of herbs from each one into the water and handed the cup to Elien.
‘Stay calm and drink this,’ she said. ‘I’m going to place my hand over your stomach, but you must keep still. It won’t hurt. In fact, you will feel the pain wash away.’
‘You haven’t told me your fee,’ Elien said. ‘I may not have enough money to pay you.’
‘Hush, child.’
‘Marisse, listen to the child and take her money,’ Luci called out. ‘Why would you give away your powers for free?’
Marisse whipped her head around and scowled at the fallen angel. She then smiled at the girl and stroked her hair.
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