The Nephilim

by Greg Curtis

  “I'm so glad you decided to come here child.” The headmistress began by throwing out a line that the kid just had to snap at.

  “I'm here because I have to be! Because that bitch forced me to come and this creep drove me here! But that doesn't mean I want to be here,” Katarinka snapped at the headmistress without even thinking.

  Naturally the kid had taken the bait which Garrick knew was what the headmistress had intended. It was easier to talk freely when the hostility was already out in the open. It would let Patricia explain the lay of the land to her without any need for subtlety. And without any chance of there being a misunderstanding.

  “And yet here you are child and here you'll stay. And while you're here you'll learn a lot about life, about who you are and who you can become. You'll get a good education, one of the best in the country. And maybe you'll even learn a little more about where you came from and why you've led the life you have.”

  “But one thing you will absolutely learn is respect.” The headmistress adopted the tone of a school mistress – which of course she was. Patricia would have made a good angel Garrick thought as she dressed the girl down, except that she had some genuine human warmth.

  “This is not a children's playground. There will be no name calling. No petulance and no childish fits of pique. You may not like the Choir. You may not agree with what they've done. Many don't. But you will speak of them with a respectful tone, just as you will speak of Mr. Hamilton. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes.”

  It was a grudging acceptance at best and the kid obviously didn't mean it, but it was still far better than anything Garrick had gotten from the girl. But then Patricia was used to dealing with difficult children. She hadn't even used her gift – thus far. But that he was sure was coming. There were things that they had to know. And things he was certain the kid would refuse to tell them.

  “Now first up, tell me about your gift dear. What is it that makes you different from everyone else?”

  “That's none of your business!”

  The unwilling compliance was gone in an instant and replaced with open defiance. That didn't surprise Garrick – the girl was like that – all thorns. But it did surprise him that it had come out just then. There were other questions he would have thought would have been more touchy than that.

  “Yes it is dear. I need to know what you can do in order to best help you learn to use your gift. And you will tell me.”

  Patricia smiled warmly as she spoke. It was a good smile Garrick thought. It always had been. In fact that smile had been one of the things that had helped him adapt to the Academy when he had first arrived. Made him feel at home. And he was sure that it would do the same for Katarinka. But for the moment it wasn't the headmistress' smile that was having an impact on the girl; it was her voice or perhaps her tone.

  Actually Garrick couldn't have said what it was that made Patricia’s command so powerful. He didn't really understand her gift at all. But he knew her words were powerful. Whatever it was, it always worked. The headmistress had “the voice” as it was known, and whatever it was it could not be disobeyed. Except by another of the people who also had the voice of course.

  “Yes I will.” Katarinka agreed immediately with Patricia. She had no choice and she didn't even know that she wanted one. For the moment she was simply under her spell.

  “I open things.”

  “Oh crap!” Garrick just let it out as he understood immediately what she meant. He shouldn't have said it, the years had let him forget how unaccepting the headmistress was of bad language, even something as relatively inoffensive as that one was, and he got a look from her that reminded him of her views in a hurry. But the instant Katarinka had said it Garrick understood what Benedict had seen in her. He also realised that the Treasury agents would be back. They would come back again and again. They wouldn't stop. Because they thought despite what they'd said, that she was involved in Benedict's crimes. They were quite possibly right.

  She had the gift of unlocking – no door was ever barred to an angel – and that gift could be inherited by their bastard offspring. Doubtless the stupid girl had used it to get herself in trouble. Equally doubtless she'd teamed up with an ageing counterfeiter and bank robber the moment he'd recognised her ability. The only question was, how much trouble was she in? How far down the road to criminality had she gone before Cassie had picked her up? And how much had Treasury guessed? They already knew she was important to the thief. But did they know why? Their story about him being her boyfriend had seemed strange. So maybe it had been just that – a story.

  “And Armando Benedict, did you help him with any of his crimes?” Garrick asked but of course got no response except a defiant stare from her. He didn't have the voice. He could have taken the truth from her with his own gift, but he didn't need to. When Patricia asked the same question a few moments later he got his answers.

  “I opened the vault at the bank.”

  She said it as if it was nothing and to her in that state it probably was. But Garrick knew it for the disaster it truly was. He knew the crime even without the name of the bank.

  “Crud!”

  This time at least he managed to keep the profanity to a minimum but still earned himself a glance of disapproval from Patricia. But he still felt the need to swear. “Patricia she's talking about First Consolidated, Benedict's last job. They stole eighty million give or take and replaced it with counterfeit. It was three days before the bank even realised they'd been robbed.” And two weeks before they knew by whom or when. Katarinka must have been a dream come true for the crook. And that meant he knew what she could do.

  “Treasury want Benedict like nobody else, and they will be here soon. In fact they will probably camp out on your doorstep. I'm surprised they're not here already. They already have her name and if they've got her fingerprints from the vault she's going to jail for twenty years at least. Federal prison.”

  “Kid did you at least wear gloves?”

  That at least Katarinka understood and for once she didn't argue with him about it. She just shook her head slowly – possibly starting to realise just how much trouble she was in. Fortunately, there was an answer.

  “Patricia can you get one of the doctors from the hospital up here urgently. We need to alter her fingerprints as soon as possible. Because the Treasury agents when they get here will find some way of obtaining a copy of her prints and we can't let that happen.”

  And luckily those with the gift of healing could alter fingerprints. It was one of the unusual side effects of being able to heal. It was also something that they'd had cause to use from time to time.

  “Katarinka do you know where Benedict is?”

  Once more Patricia had to repeat his question before she would answer, but he didn't mind that. He was only happy that she finally said 'no' to something.

  “That's good. And do any of his other partners know what you can do?” Again he had to wait for Patricia to ask the question, but he didn't care. Not when she shook her head.

  “Thank God!”

  Garrick breathed a small sigh of relief, before he saw the look on Patricia's face and knew she didn't understand. Revealing your gift to a normal human being was always a risk, but mostly it wasn't a terrible one. Normals either didn't believe you and laughed, or they did and then they ran scared. But they wouldn't say anything. Not when the normal reason that a nephilim revealed his or her gift was because of an emotional bond with another. Husbands telling their wives of their special gift and so forth. Even the Choir didn't begrudge them telling their loved ones what they were and what they could do. Not if the nephilim were truly willing to trust their partners. But in this case it was far more dangerous than that.

  “Some of the underworld know about people with her particular gift. They call these people keys and consider them almost priceless. And since he knows what she can do Benedict will want her back as well. So he'll be searching. No doubt she sees him as a quick way of
making some money and will want to go with him if he finds her. She may even try to contact him. You'll have to watch her.”

  “She wouldn't.”

  “She's fifteen and stupid. Of course she will. She thinks he cares about her. That he'll look after her. Make her rich. He won't of course. She's just a tool to him. And he gets rid of tools when they get old. The number of his old partners now rotting away in prisons across the world is almost beyond counting. And to make matters worse if and when he eventually gets caught he'll give her up in a heartbeat. Her secret will be out.”

  No matter how you cut it, Katarinka had landed herself in a world of trouble, and with her potentially the rest of the nephilim. But at least she was now in the best place possible to protect her from the consequences of her actions.

  “He wouldn't -.”

  Katarinka instantly reacted, taking up where the headmistress had left off, trying to deny the obvious and thereby proving everything he'd said in the very same breath.

  “Kid, don't be more stupid than you have to be.” Garrick told her off even if it wasn't his place and was immediately rewarded with an angry scowl.

  “Benedict's an old school villain. He may look like a kindly old gent but he's never given a crap about anyone except himself. He's got half a dozen kids by as many woman and not a single one of them has ever seen him or received a single cent of child support from him. He makes the Choir look good. And if he doesn't care about his own kids what the hell would ever make you think he gives a toss about you?”

  She wanted to argue – he could see it in her face – but he was in no mood for her childish stupidity and cut her off.

  “Face it, as far as he's concerned you are valuable to him only for what you can do for him. The ability to open all doors for him. That makes you valuable, but it doesn't mean he cares about you. He probably cares more about nearly all the people he's worked with over the years, and he's dropped them in jail often enough. He doesn't share his loot with anyone if he can help it and he has all the loyalty of a snake.”

  “When you've done whatever he needs you to do he'll sell you to the police and you'll spend the rest of your life behind bars. He's certainly not going to give you a cut of the spoils.”

  “But -.”

  “Kid how do you think we know so much about him? Why do you think he's still free? He's never kept a partner around long enough to learn anything important about him, and he usually sells them out around the same time they might start to learn something about him. Mostly he gives them up during one of his crimes. The police spend their time chasing the accomplices while he makes his escape. Then they spend the next few decades of their lives telling us about him. And while they tell us a lot, none of it's all that useful.”

  But there was more to the man than that. He was also damnably clever and somehow able to persuade ever more fools to his cause despite the fact that they surely knew his reputation. Sometimes when he heard the stories Garrick wondered if he too was a nephilim with some sort of gift. It would explain so much. The only thing was he couldn't work out was how the Choir would have turned a blind eye to his activities if he was. They weren't the sort to bend the rules for anyone, least of all a nephilim.

  “Patricia, she is to have no phone privileges for at least six months. No cell and no email. If she makes a call to family make sure someone listens in. And if she goes anywhere, even to the shops, make sure she doesn't go alone. Also, I have a hunch she’ll try sneaking out at night and given her gift she won't be able to be locked in. She'll have to be watched.”

  “You really think that's necessary?” Patricia seemed surprised.

  “Kid are you planning on running away again?”

  “No.” It was a lie and an obvious one. Everyone knew it. So no one was in the least surprised when she contradicted herself a few seconds later when Patricia asked her the same question.

  “And does Benedict know where you are?”

  “No!” The kid stared defiantly at him as if daring him to call her a liar. Apparently she was a slow learner. Patricia asked her the same question five seconds later.

  “Yes.”

  And that was all the answer they needed. Benedict knew where she was. He knew what she was. He would be coming for her and if she could she would go to him.

  After that there was nothing to do but prepare for the inevitable. The agents would be with them shortly. They couldn't be allowed to interview Katarinka. The kid's fingerprints had to be changed and then the agents allowed to surreptitiously obtain a copy so that they could exclude her from their investigation. Katarinka had to be damn near quarantined, her movements restricted drastically and she had to be watched wherever she went. They were all things that had had to be done in the past of course, but never with this level of urgency.

  And all of them were things that he as an agent of the FBI should be reporting as a crime instead of helping with. But he was unfortunately used to that. It was simply the inevitable consequence of having a secret such as his. Besides, the alternative was a very scary thing for all of them. The age of burning witches at the stake might have passed, but that didn't mean that they would be safe. Some of the people had gifts that would be very much in demand by governments and others. Some had gifts that would make them instant media sensations. Some had gifts that would make them feared.

  And above all else the Choir would be unhappy if the news of their existence got out. Having the existence of genuine offspring of angels made known would remove a lot of the need for people to have faith. The angels it seemed were determined that people believed in God based on faith rather than certain knowledge. They wanted people to be able to doubt and choose.

  What the Choir would do to prevent that knowledge getting out Garrick didn't know. But he was sure that he didn't want to find out.

  It seemed that they had a true problem child on their hands. Or rather – and Garrick was infinitely grateful for the sudden understanding – the headmistress did.

  Chapter Five

  “Room 723. This must be it.”

  The agents however, remained hovering outside the open door for a bit as no one seemed to be there yet. The room was dark, the lights not having yet been switched on. Nor were there any computers running and the display system wasn't on. None of the things that were normally done for a meeting had been done. Odd. They were in the head office. They had arrived at the right room at the right time for their urgent meeting. So where was Special Agent in Charge Thomison?

  Deciding that hovering in the hallway outside an empty room just looked dumb, the agents eventually walked in and turned on the lights. Better to wait in the room than outside in the hallway like students waiting to see the principal.

  It was a fairly typical meeting room for a Federal building. A bunch of old Formica covered tables had been pulled together in the middle of the room to create one large table. No doubt someone in accounting was saving money as ever. On it sat the usual sort of equipment you expected to see. An overhead projector that looked like it had come out of a junior school classroom. A laptop connected up to a computer projector. And a speaker phone. Everything was there even if it wasn't switched on. Also sitting on the table were three unmarked boxes which Barnes assumed related to the meeting they were about to have.

  One by one the agents took their seats and waited for SAIC Thomison to arrive and tell them what was going on. Why they had been pulled off the Benedict detail and reassigned to whatever this new case was. None of them were happy about it of course. Armando Benedict was a big deal and being a part of the team that finally captured him was the sort of thing that would look good on a CV. But orders were orders. And from what they'd been told those orders had come from very high up. They didn't know who SAIC Thomison was, but he had approval for what he demanded at the highest level. Their own supervisor had been called up in the middle of the night and simply told about their reassignment, and reading between the lines he was unhappy about it. But he'd had no choice and he'd given
them their orders.

  Suddenly the speaker phone in the middle of the table rang and they jumped. Apparently they weren't to be joined by SAIC Thomison after all. Not in person. Instead, it was to be a teleconference. Agent Barnes reached across to the centre of the table and pressed the speaker-phone button.

  “Hello?”

  “Gentlemen, please confirm that all three of you are seated in the room and that the door to the room is shut. Nothing of what is to be spoken of today is to leave this room.” A man's voice rang out, from the tiny little speaker, and all of them knew from the instant they heard him speak that this was the guy in charge.

  There were none of the usual pleasantries, not even a welcome and that seemed odd. But none of the agents said anything. The man's tone suggested that he wasn't someone who would tolerate insubordination of any sort, and the fact that he hadn't even bothered with the usual formalities suggested that this – whatever this was – had to be important. So they did as asked, giving the SAIC their names before one of them went to shut the door. Then they waited hoping that whatever task they were being assigned would be something they could do well and get credit for. After all the more successful assignments an agent completed, the closer his next promotion was.