by Nancy Madore
The angels who have declared war upon us are called the Others. They are as mysterious as God is Himself. No one knows their names or where they reside. They simply are. They’re declarations are law.
Enoch has communicated with the Others in his dreams. He has recorded our fate in great detail.
This is what the dreams have revealed: at the appointed time, legions of warrior angels will gather round the earth. They will bring about a great earthquake, one so powerful it will generate a massive fracture that will tear its way to the center of the earth, shifting the continents with its incredible force. Eruptions will follow, sending immense amounts of water into the heavens. The earth will remain open until all of the Watchers are trapped in its fiery core.
Once the Watchers are in the abyss, the warrior angels will seal up the earth and return to their heavenly realm. The earth will be immersed in water, yet the water that erupted into the heavens will continue to fall for many days. All living things will be obliterated, save the select few who were chosen, and who will be guided by angels throughout.
Meanwhile, yet another legion of angels, sent by the Others, will be scouring the earth for the souls of the Nephilim, who they will be escorting to the dark place.
It will be difficult for you without the Watchers, but you can survive. And it is only through your survival that we will ever be released from the abyss.
We must prepare. You must make every effort to survive the war, but failing that, you must rise up from your watery graves and take back from the sons of man what is rightfully yours.”
Chapter 30
Present Day
“Wow, it’s…this is just…wow!” Gordon was clearly at a loss for words.
“Exactly,” Nadia agreed. This is where the logical part of her brain really started to balk. “You see why I have my doubts?”
“What!” he exclaimed. “No! That isn’t what I meant at all. This—what you’ve just told us—confirms everything!”
“I admit my grandmother’s stories seem to corroborate the accounts in the bible and other ancient writings. But don’t you think she could have got her ideas from those same sources? I mean, come on! If her stories are true…that means it’s all true—God, the bible…all of it!”
“Why?” asked Gordon. “Why ‘all of it?’”
Nadia just looked at him, confused by the question. She was tired and a little tipsy but she poured herself another glass of wine. It felt like midnight, but the light from the windows just kept getting brighter—she guessed it was now around mid-day—and she could tell that it was going to be a sweltering afternoon. She took a sip of wine and shook her head to try and clear the fog that was gathering there. “What do you mean?”
“According to what you just told us, these angels didn’t know God any better than we do,” Will said.
“It explains so much!” exclaimed Gordon.
Clive gave him a withering glance before adding—“Think about it, Nadia. These angels came here from somewhere else. They believed they were created by God just like we do. They were smarter than us and taught us things. People wrote about them. Maybe the people writing about them added their own twist on things, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
“One man’s angel is another man’s alien,” said Will.
“Exactly!” exclaimed Gordon.
“What they were doesn’t make a damn bit of difference,” continued Clive. “The point is that they were here. Their presence created a ripple. And that ripple has now become a tsunami. Everything else is just a lot of distracting bullshit. It’s people trying to make sense of it all. Let’s just be honest here; God ain’t said shit to anybody that we know of. You gotta look beyond the preacher saying ‘do this’ or ‘do that’ and find the real story hiding between the lines.”
Nadia tried to consider this, but a thick haze seemed to be blocking out half of what they were saying. “What do you think they were?” she asked.
“I think they were angels,” Will said simply. “That’s what they called themselves and therefore it’s what they were.”
“Whatever that is,” added Clive.
Nadia was surprised by how simple and obvious it suddenly seemed.
Will got up and gently lifted the empty wine glass from her fingers. “We’re all tired and it’s too early to get any more help from outside,” he said. “It’s four in the morning in New York—and even earlier on the west coast—and its Sunday to boot. We might as well get some rest.”
Nadia allowed him to lead her to her bedroom, which was dark and considerably cooler than the room they just occupied. “I don’t know if I can sleep,” she said, though she was yawning as she said this.
“I think the wine will help,” replied Will with a wry smile. He moved to re-connect the chain, which Gordon had detached earlier when Nadia complained of the weight of it. Nadia suddenly reached out and grasped hold of his arm.
“Don’t!” she cried. “Please, Will, can’t you take this horrible thing off my leg?”
“No,” he said, reverting to the cold resolve that had irritated her so much when she first met him. It was his lack of compassion for her that angered her most. She grabbed his arm again, this time with both hands, in an attempt to prevent him from securing the chain. He drew up and looked at her in surprise.
“You’ve admitted you made a mistake in bringing me here and yet you continue to treat me like a prisoner!” she hissed.
“I don’t recall admitting any mistake in bringing you here,” he said, his steel blue eyes resolute. He bent down a third time to attach the chain.
This was too much. With a small cry Nadia began hitting him on the back, pounding him with her fists. He spun around in surprise and immediately captured her flailing arms in his two strong hands. She fought to get away but he held her securely, though he was careful not to hurt her. As gently as he could, he led her, still struggling, to the bed. She fell back, suddenly defeated. The anger disappeared as quickly as it came. But Will did not immediately retreat to attach the dreaded chain. He sat next to her on the bed, silently watching her until his calm demeanor rubbed off enough that Nadia was once again composed. Or it might have been that she was simply too exhausted to fight anymore. She felt oddly detached. She let out a long sigh, staring hopelessly at the ceiling, hardly aware of the tears that slipped down her cheeks. She even forgot that Will was there, until he startled her by capturing one of her tears on the tip of his finger, hardly even brushing his hand against her cheek in the process. Their eyes met. Nadia’s breath caught in her throat. She thought—for a brief moment—that he might kiss her, and realized with astonishment that she wouldn’t try to stop him if he did.
They remained like that for what seemed like a very long time. Will seemed to be suffering some internal struggle while Nadia could do little more than gaze up at him.
In the end, Will’s self-control won out. Nadia watched the spark of emotion flicker and fade as his eyes turned back to cold steel. But his tone and manner remained as gentle as a caress when he finally spoke.
“We can’t risk losing you now,” he told her quietly. In spite of his extraordinary command over his emotions he seemed to be silently imploring her to understand. “I know your discomfort has been great.” He reached out and lightly caressed her hand. “With every word you speak…every gesture…,” he stopped there, letting the thought hang in mid-air. He seemed to be fighting to keep control, but his hand, meanwhile, kept lightly caressing her hand and then moved up her arm. “The more I learn about the woman you are, the more I believe that you need this resolution as much as we do.” His hand was making its way to her face. “It’s for you as much as the potential victims that we need to stop this disaster. I feel that.” He had been steadily moving closer to her as he spoke and was now so close that she could feel his breath on her face. She had the distinct impression that he wanted to kiss her. She almost tipped her head back in anticipation of the kiss, but something held her back. And the momen
t passed. Will released her and moved to turn away.
Nadia reached out and stopped him, finding her voice at last. “I give you my word I won’t try to escape,” she whispered, suddenly wanting more than anything else—even freedom from the chain—for him to trust her.
“I believe you,” he said. “But it’s not for me to take such a risk. There are too many lives at stake.”
Nadia was disappointed, and she suddenly realized that she had hoped her influence over him as a woman would overcome his relentless sense of duty. And with a strange clarity it struck her that this was often at the center of her conflicts with the men in her life, even those with her father. She often felt hurt and rejected when they wouldn’t—she paused there, wondering what it was, exactly, that they wouldn’t do for her. Give up control? Step outside themselves and risk everything—even, in this case, innocent lives—for her? These thoughts shocked her. But even more shocking was that she had somehow started to associate Will with the men in her life. She’d only known him two days. She wouldn’t have known him at all if he hadn’t held that chloroform cloth over her face. As a matter of fact, she had no concrete evidence that anything he was telling her was actually true. She had no idea who was on the other side of his supposed phone calls. The three of them could be taking their cue from her story and—for all she knew—building an imaginary incident around it. But why would they do such a thing?
Her confusion—taking her back and forth from one side of the fence to the other—made her think of Patty Hearst again. Somehow, Patty’s kidnappers had started making sense too.
She felt her face growing warm under Will’s silent scrutiny. Did he think she was a foolish little rich girl? Or did he really respect the woman she was, like he said?
Nadia still had hold of his arm, but this suddenly seemed inappropriate. She let her fingers slide away as casually as possible. She felt out of sorts—the heat of the afternoon was oppressive—and she was torn between wanting to be left alone and her need for comfort. She adjusted herself to a more comfortable position, unconsciously scooting over to the farther side of the bed so that there was more room for Will. He took her cue without hesitation and lay next to her, leaning up on one elbow so that he could look down into her face.
Nadia kept envisioning him kissing her, even though she had almost convinced herself that she would rather he didn’t. She forced her thoughts away from his lips by thinking of Lilith.
“When I was a little girl I used to feel sorry for Lilith and the other Nephilim,” she told him. “They couldn’t help being born.”
Will appeared to consider this. “I too can understand their desire to live,” he conceded.
“And I always sort of agreed with their philosophies about us,” she continued. “I mean, I suppose later, when I believed the stories were just myths that had been elaborated on by my grandmother, I figured the Nephilim were a kind of metaphor, a kind of lesson, like a moral to a story—‘enjoy life and respect the earth or else someone might come and take it from you’—that kind of thing.”
“They’re a very real threat to our existence,” Will told her. “I can relate to some of their ideas about life too. In some ways they put us to shame. But this gift of life on earth is ours, not theirs. No matter how much more they may want it, it belongs to us.”
Nadia was not surprised by his cold, unbending resolve. She sensed that he would always stand by what he felt was right. A good characteristic to have, she supposed. But at the moment, he seemed obstinate and unyielding.
These thoughts were interrupted when Will suddenly did lean in to kiss her—lightly, on the forehead—and then hovered there, his lips almost caressing her skin as he spoke in whisper. “I still have to attach the chain,” he murmured so quietly that she had to strain to hear him. Was it regret she heard in his voice?
“Yes,” she acknowledged with a small sigh. She closed her eyes but she could still see him in her mind’s eye as he rose up from the bed and picked up the chain. She felt him gently lift the covers and heard the sharp ‘click’ as he attached it to her leg. She heard his footsteps as he left the room, and continued to hear their muffled voices, soft and low, from the room beyond. She fell asleep to the sound, like distant music in her ears.
Chapter 31
Nadia opened her eyes reluctantly. Once again she’d been awakened by the pungent aroma of coffee. She felt wretched. The room was stifling and her limbs were like lead. A nagging sense of irritation pricked at her. She had that cross feeling she got when she took afternoon naps, which was why she didn’t take afternoon naps. She could hear their voices in the other room and her irritation grew. Did they never sleep?
She closed her eyes again, but was suddenly too restless to lie in bed. With a sigh of disgust, she tossed the covers aside and got up, cursing the chain and the men who had brought her to this dismal little prison in the desert. She trudged miserably into the bathroom and rinsed her face with cold water. She knew without looking into a mirror that her long, thick curls were a tangled mess, and she told herself that she didn’t care. She went to bedroom door, opening it the littlest bit to listen, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Even so, she continued to stand there, reluctant to join them. Her gaze wandered to the living-room window and she guessed that it was now late afternoon. Sunday? She recalled going to bed around mid-day. She knew she was suffering from jet lag, but the realization didn’t make her feel any better. She lingered in the doorway until her curiosity finally got the better of her.
Will was the first to notice her, and the amusement on his face when he caught sight of her made her wish she’d stayed in her room.
“Damn girl!” exclaimed Clive. “Don King called to say he wants his hair back.”
Nadia pursed her lips together and silently moved toward the coffee pot. In spite of her irritable mood she had to fight the urge to burst into hysterical laughter.
“Clive…,” said Will in a warning voice.
“What? You wouldn’t want someone to tell you if you looked like a Chia pet?”
Nadia didn’t dare face them for fear that she really would laugh. She kept her eyes glued to her coffee mug, clinging perversely to her irritation. “I wasn’t given the luxury of hair styling products…or even a comb, for that matter, Clive,” she replied in as haughty a voice as she could manage.
“Well, get her a comb, or a weed-whacker or whatever the hell it takes! Damn!” said Clive.
Nadia did glance up at Clive then, and was surprised when he gave her a little wink.
“Just teasing,” he said. “I happen to like that nappy shit all wild and crazy like, with…with leaves and dead animals and whatever else you’ve got in there. Is that a sock? Did someone lose a sock?”
Nadia slapped his hand—which was messing up her hair even more—away. “Are you going to give me a comb or not?” she asked.
“Hell no, we’re not givin’ you a comb! I just told you I like it the way it is,” Clive argued, but Gordon slipped up beside her and handed her a comb and a tube of hair gel.
“That ain’t right,” said Clive.
In spite of Clive’s jokes and the hair products, Nadia’s mood remained bad. She knew that a shower would help. Yet she was curious to know if there were any new developments. She waited for one of them to say something about it.
“Have you heard anything?” she finally asked when it became apparent that nobody was going to tell her anything. Clearly she was still just a prisoner!
“No,” Gordon replied. “And none of the other intel ops have found a single thing to support our theory that we’re looking at a biological attack.”
“Everything’s checked out on Shakhra Research labs,” added Will. Nadia finally met his eyes and was unnerved even further to find herself blushing. She wondered what he was thinking. He seemed all business, and she was mildly surprised by her own feelings in the midst of such chaos. Not to mention how disheveled she knew she must look. All of her feminine weapons had been disarme
d. She didn’t have the makeup, the designer clothes or even the impressive job (at least it wasn’t impressive to them). And she could hardly play hard-to-get while chained to the floor. Yet, in spite of all this, Will’s gaze seemed almost affectionate. Of course, that could just be the Patty Hearst syndrome at work. “They’re sending someone in today to make sure, but it looks like their labs haven’t conducted any classified or restricted research for several years.”
“Interesting thing we found on their choice of a company name though,” Gordon told her. “It struck me as odd, so I ran it through our system. ‘Shakhra’ is the name of an ancient city north of Iran that disappeared a long time ago.”
“What do you mean, disappeared?” asked Nadia.
“Just that. It disappeared. There’s no record of what happened to it. But that’s not the interesting part…ancient cities used to disappear all the time. An army could have come in and claimed it, or it might have willingly joined forces with an adjacent city and adopted their name. There are lots of perfectly reasonable explanations. But the interesting thing is their history. It was from this city of Shakrah that the Oguz turks—a very unique tribe of Huns—first came into existence.”
Nadia stared at Gordon, trying to make sense out of what he was telling her. He seemed to be waiting for her to catch on, but she knew very little about the Turks. “Oguz…as in Og?” She asked, grasping at the only thing that struck a familiar chord.
“You got it,” Gordon replied. “We’ve always suspected that the Huns were descended from the Nephilim. By that time they wouldn’t have been giants in the truest sense, being several generations out, but they were still unusually big and strong. They were a fearsome lot. We think the people of this Oguz tribe might have been the descendants of Og.”