Iron Inheritance

by G. R. Fillinger

  “What other talents have you shown?” said Morales, her eyes trained on mine in that way that made me think that she could read my mind.

  I licked my lips, not wanting to look at Josh now. His face had gone so blank on the stage that every time I looked back at him I thought I should just deny the whole thing. He was right. I was an abomination to them. What was I thinking?

  “Evelyn,” Morales repeated, softer this time. “What other talents?”

  “Prophet,” I said, staring at her, waiting for a reaction.

  She nodded curtly without blinking, even though her pupils dilated to twice their normal size, fluttering back and forth as if she was reading.

  “I was able to project at the hell mouth,” I continued, pulled by an odd force to say more. “And sometimes when I touch people, I can see things.” My eyes flicked to Nate and then Josh, what I’d seen while projecting and when I touched Josh’s hand little more than a blurry watercolor now.

  A strong silence persisted, eyes staring into me for more answers that I didn’t have, Denisov’s more accusatory than interested.

  “What’s the big deal?” Ria eyed the room like she’d karate chop anyone who came near me. “So she’s got more essence than the rest of you—big whoop. It’s not a competition or anything.” She came closer to my side and leaned in near my ear. “But if it is, you’re totally winning.”

  Jody chuckled even as Denisov’s leer remained. “At least this explains what happened with Kovac when your hands touched. Your whole body went rigid and you couldn’t hear us calling. You saw something, didn’t you? That’s what made you stop.”

  I nodded, her smile still disconcerting to me. “I saw Procel—the Fallen—giving Kovac orders to let me kill him, for him to make me think my mom was still alive, and then get me so angry that I’d take it out on him.”

  Duke’s neat brow furrowed. “Why would he want that?”

  “Because only a Blood Nephilim can join the keys to creation,” said Morales, her voice still far away even as her eyes came back into focus. “Blood Nephilim were known for their unrivaled power—it consumed them. Human bodies were not meant for such power, and they soon decayed, most often into madness.”

  I chewed my tongue and nodded. “Well, at least there’s that to look forward to.”

  “The keys to creation, as referenced in the vision you heard in your outing to save your Guardian, were objects created by the Blood Nephilim that, when joined, might have been able to replicate God’s ultimate power—ex nihilo creation. Fortunately, the Blood Nephilim were destroyed and the objects were lost…until now. The Fallen must need you to find them.”

  “Ex nily?”said Ria.

  “Out of nothing,” I whispered, my eyes wide, as I went over Meg’s words again. Iron strikes the mountain’s mouth to bridge the divide. Iron wakes the all powerful darkness inside. Iron joins the keys to creation—one in five. Iron calls the sword of flame, and all will abide.

  I stared at Morales. “All this time you thought I was a—”

  She took her glasses off and let the chain catch the ends on her chest, half a smile gracing her lips. “You’re not the only one who spends too much of her time in the library, and I know where to look for the books people have forgotten. That, and Solomon was the smartest man I knew,” she said, like it was hard to admit. “He would have known that a Patron headquarters was more secure than anything he could have made. The only reason he would have had was to hide something. My mind is curious by nature, and when you displayed such an abundance of talent when you fought Ms. Dearborne, I began to research.”

  It felt like she’d socked me in the gut. I’d been in the library for weeks on end reading everything I could get my hands on, but I somehow missed this? And yet Grandpa knew? After everything else he’d hidden from me? How could he not tell me that I was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off? Something so terrible that even God thought I was too much of a threat?

  “Don’t make this mistake.” Nate shook his head, obstinately unwilling to hear anything that had been said. “None of this means—don’t let some woman’s vision lead you into something that—”

  “I think your father is the archangel Uriel,” Duke cut him off, his eyes alight as he looked at me, a wave of relief washing over the rest of him like he’d been waiting to say this for a week.

  My heart caught in my throat. “What?”

  “Iron calls the sword of flame and all will abide,” Duke said from memory. “The meteor struck. It revealed the hell mouth. It revealed Procel—the darkness inside. It will reveal one of the keys the original Blood Nephilim made. Now you, the sword of flame, Uriel’s flaming sword that protects Eden, the place of the world’s creation, will lead us up that mountain, and we’ll follow you.”

  My jaw hung open, and I flicked my eyes around the room to the others. Even Morales looked shocked. “You think my father—the one who ran out on me before I was even born—is Uriel? An archangel. And somehow, that vision says that I’m his sword?”

  “That meteor called you to that mountaintop.” Duke said, his gray eyes bright, his body full of energy. “Right now, it’s as believable as you being a Blood Nephilim, isn’t it?” He smiled. “Unbelievable is how we even exist right now.”

  I shook my head and turned away from them, the rows of lockers stretching a long distance off. How could I be Uriel’s sword? That was some stupid metaphor, if you asked me. And now, because of that, all these Patrons were supposed to follow me? For what? To die by my side?

  And why would my mom have slept with an angel in the first place? I guess it’s not that hard to imagine—you know, him being an angel and all. But had he loved her? Why would he have been with her, knowing it would land him an eternity in prison?

  “If Eve is a Blood Nephilim—and I’m not even saying I believe that—,” Josh’s deep voice broke the silence in half from behind me.

  I turned around and looked at him as he sat on one of the benches in front of the lockers.

  “If Procel can make her repent and choose the Fallen, there’s no coming back from that, and he would be able to control her.”

  Duke nodded. “If he does that, he’ll be able to make her find all of the keys the Blood Nephilim made.”

  An uncomfortable weight settled on my shoulders. Repent—basically, choose to go evil— and I’d get to watch Procel become God. Don’t repent, and I’d get to watch every person I love die because of me.

  “Well, then there’s no problem.” Ria slung her arm around my neck. “Evey’s more walk than talk. She’ll just kick his butt and be done with it. No possibility of mind control.” She grinned at me, her eyes fiery as she looked out at the room as if ordering them to smile.

  Miranda and Freddy complied readily, though I don’t think it was from the intimidation.

  Denisov cleared her throat and stepped toward me, done talking, done discussing. “If one of the Fallen is going to attack, we evacuate as many humans as possible around the base of the mountain.”

  “And the Fallen? How are we going to deal with him?” said Jody, her toned arms and shoulders almost identical to Denisov’s.

  “You can’t kill a Fallen,” Nate whispered, finally giving in to the insanity of the room and sitting down next to Josh.

  At least I knew now he wasn’t lying anymore. All this seemed as much a surprise to him as it was me.

  “Especially not if the Fallen’s on the ground already. Where’s the fun in that?” Freddy grinned, his eyes darting back and forth. “You know, because he’s a Fallen. How can you fall when you’re on the ground?”

  Ria and Miranda snickered.

  “I like when you explain your jokes. It makes them good.” Miranda patted his massive forearm as she smiled.

  “Sol’s sacrifice didn’t work.” Nate clenched his jaw. “How is that possible?”

  Not even Morales spoke, her pupils their normal size—no book or scrap of knowledge to reference.

  I blinked and saw the flash of b
linding white light in my mind again—the moment Grandpa had died. The scream that wracked the air and the hot earth under my back. Grandpa had spread out his arms to block Procel’s attack. His sacrifice made Procel disappear long enough for us to get away, but nothing more. It couldn’t kill him—just buy the people he loved more time.

  I inhaled sharply as another memory of Procel’s anguished yellow eyes sparked into view. Outside the diner just before he was going to kill everyone, I threw myself in front of them the same way Grandpa did for me—arms spread wide. He was afraid I’d try to sacrifice myself for them. A sacrifice couldn’t kill him, but it could hurt him enough that he didn’t want to go through it again.

  I looked around, no one else seeing that detail. My whole body became energized by the fact that only I knew, the fact that would be my last resort if it came down to it.

  “We use the hell mouth,” Duke said suddenly, his gray eyes flashing, blond hair glowing golden from the lights above. “If he gets close enough, he should be sucked down and trapped.”

  “Very good, Mr. Harding.” Denisov nodded without smiling. “If we can’t kill him, we’ll lock him up for a while.”

  “Won’t he like it down there?” said Ria.

  “No one likes it down there,” Josh said darkly and stood. “That’s the point.”

  Denisov nodded and spoke crisply. “There will be three phases to the attack. The first teams will summit just before sunrise. The rest will evacuate as many humans as possible. Then a final push will be led up the mountain to force the Fallen into the hell mouth.” She paused. “There will be losses to our ranks—”

  My body tensed, and Nate shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.

  “Unless we can show an advantage early,” Denisov finished and locked her hawk eyes on to mine. “Brooks will spearhead the first phase of the attack. I don’t care if you’re the daughter of Uriel, a Blood Nephilim, or Christ himself. The Fallen wants you too badly to hurt you,” she said when a stray noise escaped Nate’s throat. “And with your new talents.” She paused again, her jaw rigid. “You can withstand the effects of the hell mouth unlike anyone else here. The Tercets and the other more-experienced members of the Defense will follow.”

  “No way.” Nate stepped between us. “We can’t just—”

  “I’ll do it,” I said, his red hair barely obstructing my view.

  Denisov nodded and turned to leave. “Sunrise is in one hour. Suit up and meet in the courtyard in twenty.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Nate followed her out, his shouts heard even as the door closed.

  Ria raised her eyebrows. “At least we know Denisov isn’t going soft in her old age.”

  “That’s for sure.” Josh turned and left as well.

  My eyes followed his black shirt all the way out. Was he mad at me for not taking his advice? Maybe he was right about Patrons not accepting me—not all of them at least—but this Blood Nephilim thing could be used to our advantage for now. For some reason, Procel wanted me with him. I had a chance to stop people from being killed, and I couldn’t let that pass me by. Whatever came tomorrow—the slow decay of my body, the madness—I’d handle it then.

  “Come on.” Ria rubbed my arm, her eyes on mine as I watched Josh leave. “Boys are stupid and overprotective ninety-eight percent of the time. It’s a bad mix.”

  “I resent that,” Freddy said.

  “Except for you, sweetie pie.” Ria glanced back with a smile but turned back to me and shook her head. “Come on, I need to show you your locker.”

  “My locker? You know where my locker is?”

  “Well mine’s inside yours, so it’s pretty easy.” She paused before opening the wood door so I could see my name etched in the gold plaque. Inside, several built-in compartments were stacked on top of one another, each holding its own neatly-placed item.

  The side door to the locker room flapped open again, and a horde of people came in, each going to a pre-assigned locker—boys and girls in the same row. I tried not to pay attention to the pinprick feeling their eyes made on my back.

  “And this is the Ria drawer.” Ria reached into the bottom and pulled a handle. Inside, a pair of shoes, sunglasses, and a large bowie knife were stowed. “They don’t think Pesahs can fight all that well.” She reached in and unsheathed the knife. The blade glinted in the overhead light menacingly. “I beg to differ.”

  How did she always know more about this place than I did? And how did she keep getting these knives?

  I reached into the first compartment. Arm guards. The leather was supple with blue stones in the center that almost matched the ones on the two halves of my necklace. Near each one, a slender drawing of a dagger was carved into the leather.

  “At least they know my style.” I slipped them over my arms and felt a jolt of energy vibrate through my skin and settle into my bones.

  Miranda was staring at me when I looked up, her locker right next to mine.

  “What?”

  “Yours must not have been used in a while.” She inspected the leather. “It’s very beautiful, hardly any burn marks.”

  “Mm-hm.” I nodded, no room left in my brain to listen. How was this going to protect me from one of Procel’s lightning bolts?

  Miranda continued. “All Patron armor, it’s been worn before. Some armor’s been passed down for millennia.”

  “That’s some good leather conditioner.” Ria nodded, impressed. “But why?” she said, taking out the chest and back pieces and helping me cinch up the sides. It was like a stiff tank top with more blue stones and markings all over it.

  “It holds on to bits of essence from previous owners. Look at mine.” She twirled around and around for thirty seconds without stopping.

  “How are you not getting dizzy?” Ria’s eyes followed her, her eyelids drooping.

  “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

  “Essence.” Miranda stopped spinning. “The guy who wore this one died in World War I.” She smiled.

  “What?” I said, thinking I’d misheard her.

  “Told you they’re old.”

  I sighed and looked at my own armor. How was I still not able to see essence like everybody else? I was a Blood Nephilim—supposedly—and I couldn’t even see the spiritual world where all this power came from?

  “I personally think sweat is the overriding thing left over.” Freddy ambled around the corner with his armor strapped over his Hawaiian shirt and denim shorts. The leather stuck out six inches beyond his shoulders and gut. “It was my dad’s,” he said, trying to adjust it and waving his hand in front of his nose. “He didn’t believe in deodorant.”

  I looked in the mirror at the finished look of my armor. It fit every curve like a glove. I punched forward. It felt good, almost as if nothing was there. A marking on the underside of my arm guard caught my eye—faded cursive initials branded into the center of a flower.

  A.L.B.

  “This was my mom’s,” I whispered.

  “What? Let me see.” Ria grabbed my arm and traced her fingers over the letters.

  On the back of every one of her pictures I’d seen those initials in Grandpa’s cursive script—Ava Lily Brooks. This was the same.

  Had Grandpa given it to her?

  I ran my palms up and down my arm and shoulder guards. She’d been my size; maybe she’d even had the same blue essence as these stones—as my essence. I brought the two halves of my necklace out of my pocket and hung them around my neck.

  “If Nate’d been wearing his armor when we went into that movie studio, that black goop wouldn’t have affected him as much, maybe even slid off if there was enough essence in the armor,” said Miranda.

  “I call that a Healer’s delight—less work for me.” Freddy winked.

  Ria sighed and looked at my armor longingly.

  I narrowed my eyes. She’d better not think she was coming with me. Neither were Miranda or Freddy. They were definitely not the “more-experienced” members of the Defense Denisov was
talking about.

  “Listen, guys, I don’t think—”

  “Ready, Eve?” Nate’s voice echoed from the doorway leading back into the chapel. He had armor on now, his khaki shirt barely visible beneath the leather. He looked different, somehow. The rigid posture, the clenched jaw, the sharp green eyes were all the same, but his skin—something about his skin seemed to glow more brightly. It was like a light shining through a thick lampshade.

  “Almost.” My voice responded shakily before I could stop it. I glanced at Ria and Miranda and Freddy. Duke was in the distance, Cheryl already clad in her armor beside him. The whole room bustled with a few hundred people dressing with grim faces, narrowed eyes glancing at me every few seconds.

  My mouth went dry as I tried to swallow. How many of them would die because of this? Because of me? What if the hell mouth didn’t work? Procel would kill every one of them just because I wouldn’t go with him. How could I live knowing that I could have stopped it all with a simple yes?

  Or a simple punch to his chest to make his angel heart stop dead.

  I chewed my tongue and looked to the other side of the locker room. “Bathroom first,” I called to Nate without looking back at him or Ria.

  I slinked through the other side door and found the bathroom but turned left, hoping the path would take me out of the maze. One hallway led to another, one room to a smaller passage, one passage to the stairwell.

  My feet pounded the metal and concrete steps all the way up to the roof. I ran to the ledge and saw an empty street below, the sound of ranks and files of willing Patrons in leather armor assembling in the courtyard just behind me. If I was going to do something, I had to do it now, before Nate or someone else found me.

  “All right there?” Josh appeared at my side with a sad smile, his fingers almost touching mine.

  A sharp burst of excitement and fear launched my stomach into my chest. Part of me had hoped to see him one last time, to feel his gently firm touch on the small of my back. Yet having him here would only complicate things, especially if he tried to stop me.