by T. Frohock
Releasing the last of the paper, she looked down at the ring on her hand and rubbed her finger over the stone. She hoped he was right.
At 2300, 5 June 1944, fifteen nefilim gathered in a chapel on the outskirts of Douvres. The low clouds carried the growls of approaching planes overland.
Diago held the choir silent for another forty minutes. At 2345, Ysabel gave him the sign to begin.
“Remember,” he whispered to the nefilim, “follow Nico’s lead. From the heart.” Lifting his baton, he guided them into the first anguished notes of the Key.
Ysa formed the sigils and channeled the nefilim’s voices into the wards she drew in the dust. The Thrones’ tear on her ring flamed to life in the darkness, leaving no doubt that she was the rightful leader of Die Nephilim.
The soft golden vibrations poured through the church and out into a drain. Invisible to the mortals, the resonance of their song found its way into the sea.
The music of their voices fell with the hush of stars falling. Then the colors shifted. Diago was the first to notice. The world around them became clearer, more vibrant. Shades of gray lightened to white, and black to gray.
Everything grew still, like the world held its breath.
The city and the beaches all remained in the mortal realm, but a line of light stretched from the church into the gutter and then to the sea. And while the rest of the world remained in darkness, the realms shifted and the incoming ships rode from England to Normandy on celestial tides.
The nefilim sang all through the night while Ysa cast sigil after sigil into the sea. The nefilim’s emotions washed over Diago as he conducted them toward hope, and when the song ended, they began again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
By 0800, the thunder of artillery provided the bass.
34
Inner Guard Division: Die Nephilim
Ysabel Ramírez, Generalfeldmarschall
Abwehr Der Wehrmacht
9 May 1945
Abwehr Report No. 18201
To the Honorable Don Guillermo Ramírez, Capitán General, Los Nefilim:
General Jodl and Admiral Dönitz capitulated to General Eisenhower’s terms at Reims on 7 May. Germany has officially surrendered. Though the war is over, our biggest work remains before us. I confer daily with Madame Rousseau and our Allied counterparts in an effort to bring healing to the mortals. Unfortunately, the devastation is immense.
But you know these things.
I understand that you intend to move Los Nefilim’s base of operations back into Spain. To that end, we have intelligence that indicates Jordi Abelló’s lieutenant, Benito Espina, has fled. We have agents who have confirmed he is in Argentina. Whether he has absconded with other nefilim tied to Abelló’s regime, we don’t know.
Regardless, we will watch for them.
In another matter, Capitán Violeta Gebara has requested to transfer to Die Nephilim. If you can spare her, I would gratefully take her into our ranks.
Kiss Mamá for me, and please convey my love to Diago, Miquel, and Rafael. I miss them all, but especially my dark rose.
At the first opportunity, I intend to visit home.
Watch for me.
35
7 July 1945
Barcelona
Diago sat at the café’s rear table, his back against the wall. Old habits died hard, which was probably a good thing. Franco’s regime was everything Hitler had wanted. Unlike the Führer, Franco was firmly established here in Spain.
Sipping his hot chocolate, Diago opened the newspaper he’d purchased on the street. The headline sent a shiver through him. The United States had dropped an atomic bomb on Japan. As he read the article, he realized that both Nagasaki and Hiroshima had been attacked with the same weapon.
In what now felt like another lifetime, the angels had made a deal with the devil, and this was the destruction Moloch had wrought. He’d used his daimonic skills to create the blueprint for the Americans’ atom bomb.
This is the death Moloch exchanged for the birth of my son. Diago closed the newspaper. He didn’t want to read any more.
The café door opened and Guillermo entered. Diago lifted his hand, and his old friend joined him.
Guillermo glanced at the paper. “So you’ve seen.”
“I remember the angel Prieto said the bomb would end the war. He was wrong.”
“He was right. The Japanese refused to surrender. From the communiqués I had with the Americans, they felt they had no choice. The war was only going to end when one side or the other was beaten into submission.”
Diago shuddered. “So many lives lost . . . and for what? Pride?”
Before Guillermo could answer, the waiter came to take his order.
Diago handed the newspaper to the man. “Get rid of that for me, would you?”
“Of course, sir.”
Guillermo waited until the server returned with a cup of coffee before he spoke again. “Suero found the papers for our property at Santuari. He’s getting them transferred into my name.”
“We’re going to rebuild?”
Guillermo drew a cigar from his pocket and lit it. “Damn right we are.” He enjoyed his coffee and smoked. “I suppose you know, Miquel has asked Nico to be his secretary.”
“Oh yes, that was discussed. What did Nico say?”
“Nico very graciously turned him down. He wants to be Los Nefilim’s archivist.”
“I think that would be a good job for him. Miquel needs someone who can put up with his more aggressive moods and bite back when necessary. Nico is still healing.”
“Miquel is, too.” Guillermo reached into his pocket and placed Miquel’s scarred wedding band on the table. “Jordi was wearing it when he died. Ysabel said he deliberately scarred the sigils, hoping to cause a rift between you. I didn’t know what to do with it. I wanted to give it to Miquel, but I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, so . . .” He shrugged.
Diago palmed the ring off the table and put it in his pocket. “You did right.” Miquel didn’t need the ring, or the pain of the memories. Let some distance get between us and the war.
Except Spain was still bleeding from its own wounds and probably would be for some time. He saw the fear in the mortals’ eyes, the arrogance of Franco’s police. To the outside world, the country might seem to be healing, but they didn’t see the overflowing prisons, or hear the gunshots in the night.
Diago kept his voice low. “We’re stuck with Franco, aren’t we?”
“For a while,” Guillermo admitted. “We’re going to begin immediate infiltration. In two weeks, Miquel is joining the Barcelona police force as a new inspector from Madrid. Due to Franco’s policies toward . . .”
It was apparent he didn’t want to say homosexuals in the crowded café where a mortal might overhear, so Diago filled in the blank for him. “People like us.”
“Precisely. Once we’ve rebuilt the main compound at Santuari, your family will be the first to move in along with Juanita and me. Until then, I hope you’ll be okay staying in the city.”
“The city is fine. We know how to keep a low profile. Miquel is posing as my brother-in-law, who is staying with us while he gets on his feet. Because of the war, people don’t ask too many questions nowadays.”
“He said it was in a nice place.”
“After so many years of deprivation, I wanted us to have a few luxuries.” For once, Diago had insisted on renting an apartment in one of the more expensive buildings. It wasn’t La Pedrera, but his small family had all the modern conveniences along with an attic loft, which Rafael used as an art studio.
Guillermo withdrew a bankbook from his breast pocket. “Now for some good news. I received confirmation from the Inner Guard’s main tribunal: your beautiful cousin and her Scorpion Court have been heavily fined and now they’ll be exiled to Argentina. It was the only country that would take them.”
“How marvelous. An entire ocean between us, and Sout
h America has a brand-new species of parasitoid wasp. She’s probably already laying insidious little eggs in the populace.”
Guillermo winced. “When you put it like that, I doubt the wisdom of the Inner Guard’s tribunal.”
“Don’t. It doesn’t matter where you send her, she’ll create havoc. At least with Christina, we’re dealing with a known factor.”
“This is true.” Guillermo placed his cigar on the ashtray. “The other part of the court’s punishment included the forfeiture of their Spanish properties. These were liquidated. A cut of that money goes to get Los Nefilim back on its feet. The rest . . .” He pushed the bankbook across the table. “I know the money can’t fully compensate you for what you’ve been through, but I think you should have it. It’ll give you some breathing room.”
Diago opened the booklet and looked at the figure. He gave a low whistle. “Guillermo, I . . .”
“It’s okay. It’s yours. Buy yourself something nice . . . like a mansion, or an island.”
He could just about afford both, given the amount. Tucking the bankbook into his breast pocket, he bowed his head. “Thank you. So. What about me? What am I to do for Los Nefilim in this new Spain?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Guillermo rescued his cigar from the ashtray and relit it. “Now that the dust has settled a bit, I’d like for you to go back to work on the psalm for me. See if we can reconstruct it. If, um, Rafael would like to stay around, then I’d love to have him on the project, too.”
“We’re riding out to Santuari this afternoon.”
“You won’t find anything but rubble.”
“Still, he wants to visit it again.” Whether to say hello, or goodbye, Diago didn’t know. “I’ll broach the subject with him and let you know what he says.”
“Of course you know, as things come up, I’ll eventually need you both back in the field, but for now”—he looked around the café—“let’s just get acclimated.”
“That sounds good. Real good.” He lifted his cup and Guillermo raised his.
Two hours later, Diago drove Rafael to what was left of Santuari. Nothing but stone and the vague outlines of buildings remained. A crater occupied the area where Guillermo’s great house once stood on the hill.
Diago found three of the walls of their own little house. The roof was gone and the kitchen obliterated. A rosebush struggled for life among the bricks.
Rafael walked through the debris until he stood in the area that used to be his room. He kicked aside a few stones. Kneeling, he dug through the debris to extract a tin that once held watercolors. He smiled and held it up for Diago to see. “I remember when you bought me this. It was when you came home from Germany, after you found your violin. Do you remember?”
Diago returned his son’s smile and nodded. “I do.”
Rafael dropped the tin and dusted his hands. “I remember I had a kitten. I named her Ghost.” His smiled faded. “But we couldn’t take her with us. And I cried and cried and hated myself because so many others had lost so much more.”
Diago leaned against the wall that had once been their living room. “You were young. There is no shame in mourning a pet you loved.”
“You gave me everything I wanted, and then we lost it all. And now I look at all this, and I realize the most precious things you’ve given me are those that I carry in my heart.”
Diago bowed his head so that his son wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.
Rafael sighed and stood again, brushing his palms against his thighs. “Guillermo is going to rebuild it?”
Diago picked a blade of grass and spun it through his fingers. “He is. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I, um, have some money now. Quite a bit. And if you would like to go to university somewhere . . .” He shrugged. “Anywhere. Tell me and we can send you.”
“Do you want me to go away?”
Careful, now, and don’t influence his decision. This has to be his choice. “I want you to be happy. I mean, Ysabel is off on her own in Germany. I thought maybe you might like to travel, or . . .”
“Go to university?”
Diago smiled. “Whatever.”
“What if I want to stay with Los Nefilim? Here in Spain?” A note of defiance seeped into his voice as if he thought Diago might argue against the decision. “What if I want to come back to Santuari with you and Miquel but in my own house? What if I wanted to do that?”
“Then I will support your decision.”
“Would Guillermo have a job for me?”
“He’s already asked me to see if you would like to continue reconstructing the psalm with me. I could certainly use your help. And, of course, as other assignments arise, we could both be called back into the field.”
Rafael stared into the distance. “I’m not ready to leave.”
“That’s okay.”
“Maybe someday I’ll want to travel, but not today.” He picked his way back to Diago. “Today, I want to be with my family. Let’s go home.”
Diago put his arm around his son and together they walked toward the car. They passed the foundation of the old barn, and as they did, they heard a kitten cry.
Father and son froze. Rafael was the first to move. He went to a pile of brush and moved it aside. The odd-eyed kitten was about six weeks old and almost starved. They saw no sign of the mother or any littermates.
Cleaned up, she would definitely be white.
Diago expected her to be feral, but she walked right up to Rafael and brushed against his leg. She cried until he picked her up and cuddled her against his chest.
“Well,” Diago murmured. “It looks like Ghost came back.”
Rafael tucked the kitten into his shirt. “I’m not going to call her Ghost. I don’t want her to disappear again.”
“Neither do I.” With a smile, Diago retrieved the keys to his car.
Later that night, Miquel was already in bed, reading a new romance novel. He looked up when Diago came into the bedroom. “I’ve got two weeks off.” Closing the book, he placed it on his nightstand. “Where would you like to go?”
“I don’t know.” Diago took the bankbook from his pocket and tossed it on the bed. “Where do you want to go?”
“What’s this?”
“My cut of Christina’s properties.”
Miquel looked at the figure and whistled. “Let’s go someplace fancy.”
Diago laughed. “Someplace with wine.”
“Hell, let’s buy a vineyard.” Miquel closed the book and gave it back to Diago. “We’ll sleep in tomorrow and then talk about it.” He rolled out of bed and went to the bedroom door. “I’m getting a nightcap. Want one?”
“Sure.” Diago waited until he was gone, and then he reached into his pocket and closed his fingers around Miquel’s old wedding band. He considered giving it to his husband and almost immediately discounted the idea.
The past is dead. It’s time to put it in its grave. They could visit the tomb anytime. But not today.
He opened a small box and placed the scarred ring inside. Pushing it deep into a drawer, Diago moved his shirts to hide it away.
This wasn’t the time to look back. They needed to look forward. The Inner Guard had work to do, and maybe, if they were persistent, they might bring healing to the world instead of pain.
He could only hope.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks always go first and foremost to my family, especially to my husband, Dick, who does so many things to make sure I have time to write.
For my fabulous first readers: Rhi Hopkins, Glinda Harrison, and Karla Moon. To Ollivier Robert for helping me navigate the Paris metro and for sending me links to French resources I wouldn’t otherwise have been able to locate on my own. Thanks also go to Ulff Lehmann for assistance with German translations.
I am exceptionally grateful to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum for the information they maintain on their website and to the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum for their Twitter feed @AuschwitzMu
seum. A very special thanks to the Mauthausen Memorial for answering my questions related to Spanish Republicans interned at Mauthausen during World War II.
If I made any mistakes in the facts, they are mine and certainly not theirs.
To the Extraordinary Fellows of Arcane Sorcery: You know who you are. You’re a magnificent lot, and I’m proud to say I’ve been a part of your group.
To Lisa Rodgers, who always has my back and whose mad editing skills help me to be a better writer. And especially to David Pomerico and the team at Harper Voyager, who believed in this series and made it happen.
My deepest gratitude goes to my readers. This book couldn’t have happened without you and your support. Thank you for giving this story your time. I hope you enjoyed it.
Watch for me . . .
Glossary
angels Creatures from another dimension that invaded the antediluvian earthly realm. They warred with the daimons for control of the mortals. The angels caused the Great Flood in order to force the daimons to capitulate to their demands. Rather than watch the mortals destroyed, the daimons surrendered. While no daimonic uprising has occurred in centuries, the angels sometimes engage in civil wars. These conflicts often bleed down into the mortal realm.
angel-born nefilim (often shortened to angel-born) Nefilim who can claim direct lineage to an angelic ancestor.
daimons The old earth gods who resided in the mortal realm before the invasion of the angelic hordes. Most have retreated to homes deep beneath the earth and have removed themselves from mortal affairs. Others, like Diago’s grandfather, Moloch, work toward reasserting themselves and their presence in the mortal world.
daimon-born nefilim (often shortened to daimon-born) Nefilim who claim direct lineage to a daimonic ancestor.
Die Nephilim The German Inner Guard, led by Ilsa Jaeger. Her second-in-command is Erich Heines.
Fallen The Fallen are angels who have been cast out of the angelic ranks and forced to live in the mortal realm.