by Debra Dunbar
Candy scrunched up her face in distaste. “Yeah, you’re right. Poor Sam; seems like you’re being overrun with angels.”
“No shit. It gets worse. I’ve had angels attack me twice more since that dude I stuck in the basement. Although, now that I’ve gotten rid of Harper’s boyfriend, I think that will taper off. The problem facing me now is how to keep her hidden. I told the angels I’d sent her to Hel. If they find out I’ve got a Nephilim in my house, unborn or not, my ass is in serious trouble.”
Candy halted on the trail, her mouth unbecomingly open. “A Nephilim? I thought she was just some friend of Nyalla’s you were helping out.”
“No. Why else did you think angels were besieging my house?”
Candy raised her eyebrows. Well, yeah. Trouble did seem to follow in my wake. It would be understandable for her to think I’d done something to piss the angels off.
“Anyway, I’ve got no clue what to do with her. I feel bad that she’s going to be hiding out in my house for another three months or so. And I’m totally at a loss about the birth itself and this baby. I really think the best idea would be to arrange some kind of transport to Hel.”
“You can’t send a half–angel to Hel!”
I grimaced. “A half–angel running around my house for however long they live is going to get noticed, and we’ll both end up dead. So if you’ve got any better ideas, I’m ready and willing to hear them.”
The werewolf bit her lip, frowning as she kicked a stone along the path. “I’ve heard there are places where Nephilim can be hidden, that their angel fathers know where to send them.”
“Well the father’s dead by now, and I can’t exactly run around Aaru asking random angels where they hide their Nephilim. Besides, Harper would refuse. Evidently the father wanted to send the kid there, but she says she won’t have a bunch of monsters raise her child.
Candy put her hands on her hips and raised her shrewd brown eyes to meet mine. “They’re not monsters. They’re werewolves.”
Now it was my turn to stand there open–mouthed. “Why in the fuck would you all shelter Nephilim? You guys walk a thin enough line with the angels as it is. If they found a Nephilim in your midst, all bets would be off as far as your existence contract. They’d kill you all… .”
Oh. Suddenly it all made sense.
Candy looked around the trail before speaking. “Werewolves are the descendants of Nephilim. We’re just lucky the angels haven’t figured that out yet. The Nephilim that have been caught and executed in the past weren’t analyzed in any detail before their death. Eventually it’s going to happen. The connection will be made between them and us. Then we’ll be exposed for what we are and wiped from the face of the Earth. We need to make sure the angels don’t get a chance to look too closely at their half–breed offspring. So we help hide them.”
Damned angels. Genetic cleansing at its finest when it came to the poor werewolves. “Why hide them right in your own packs? It’s not the best place to avoid notice given the close eye the angels keep on you all. If I were in your shoes, I’d kill every Nephilim child I found, to reduce the risk of being discovered. Dead, dusted bodies don’t tell tales.”
Candy looked disgusted. “Besides the fact that we don’t go around killing off innocent children, we need Nephilim. Werewolf–to–werewolf breeding eventually results in infertility and other problems. Nephilim introduce a surge of power into our genetic pool. They are Firsts. As adults, they are trusted advisors to our Alphas, powerful allies. If they choose to mate with a werewolf, their children have special skills and are fertile.”
I shook my head in confusion. “How do you all hide them? You guys can’t take a shit without some angel up your ass.”
“A group of angels have created hidden zones, where werewolves and Nephilim can remain undetected. And there are some among the Grigori that are sympathetic to our plight. They have been known to look the other way.”
This might work out better than sending Harper and/or her baby to Hel. “Can you come over tonight for dinner? Maybe give Harper your pack recruitment speech and show her that you’re not the monsters she thinks you are?”
Candy smiled. “Absolutely.”
***
“Absolutely not.” Harper stood with her arms across her chest, eyes still puffy and red even as they sparked in anger. “I don’t care if she’s your friend; I’m not having my son grow up with werewolves.”
“How about growing up around demons in Hel?” I snapped back. “Because those are pretty much the only two ways this baby of yours is going to survive to adulthood.”
Candy put a hand on my arm, silencing me as she stepped forward. Fine. I’d let her do the kindly werewolf thing, but if that didn’t work, it was back to my tough–love techniques.
“We’re shape shifters, so yes, we do have different hobbies and communities than you’re used to, but we live among the humans. We’re doctors and lawyers, welders and technicians, school teachers and librarians. I’m a real estate agent.”
“You’re not human,” Harper argued.
“And neither is your baby,” I couldn’t help but chime in.
Harper paled, taking a step backward. I felt like a total shit, but it was true. The sooner she realized that her baby would have more in common with the werewolves than humans, the better.
“Your baby would have loving foster parents. Werewolves adore children, and many of our mated are unable to conceive. Beyond that, Nephilim are honored in our packs. This child would have special status. He’d never be treated as an outsider.”
Furious tears rolled down the woman’s cheeks. “I’m going to raise my child. Me. I want to see him grow up, to be his mother — not some strangers.”
“Can’t she have her baby among the werewolves but still remain part of the human community?” Nyalla asked. She and Nils stood to the side, solemn witnesses to Harper’s struggle.
Candy wrinkled her nose as she thought. “There’s one group I know of who has revealed themselves to some human neighbors. But how would the child learn our ways without werewolf parents to guide him?”
“Werewolf childcare?” Nyalla suggested. “Or maybe werewolf pre–school?”
“No.” Hunter’s voice was firm. “They’ll turn my child into one of them — a monster.”
Oh, for fuck sake. “Candy is not a monster. Look at her. How many monsters carry around a Louis Vuitton handbag?”
We all stared at Candy’s purse. It was a lovely large bag with the signature monogramed leather and snazzy rounded handles.
“Let me see you change. I want to see you as a wolf before I make any decisions.”
Shit. I exchanged uneasy glances with the werewolf. Candy was quite elegant in her wolf form, but the transformation process was long and downright gruesome. Harper would no doubt throw up her lunch then toss the werewolf out on her ass.
“It’s painful and not exactly pleasant to watch. Are you sure?” Candy sat her much–coveted purse down on my table and removed her earrings.
Harper swallowed hard a few times. “Yes. I need to see. I need to know what kind of people would be guiding my child.”
Candy sighed and removed and folded her clothing, neatly piling it on the table. With a deep breath, she began. Skin stretched as bone rolled and twisted underneath, muscles splitting and reconnecting. One moment she was a human woman, and the next a contorted mess covered by tanned flesh. Grey fur sprouted in patches along her skin, darkening to black along the tips. Nyalla and I had seen Candy transform many times, but Nils stared in fascinated horror. Harper slapped one hand over her mouth and scooted backward until her rear hit the wall.
It took twenty minutes, but finally Candy stood before us, a huge gray wolf. Harper shook, keeping her hand firmly on her mouth, but she didn’t bolt. I shrugged at my werewolf friend and she began the arduous process of changing back into her human form. It had been a long shot, and Candy had given it her best. Guess it was Hel for this little guy. I better start checking
out Dwarven nannies, because if Nephilim were anything like baby demons, Harper was going to need some help.
“I can’t watch this again.” Harper turned her back on Candy, her eyes resigned as they met mine. “Ben was right. You’re right. I can’t have this child and expect him to live without help from someone more powerful than I am. I’m just not sure which choice I want to make. Tell Candy I need to think about it. She seems nice, and Nyalla is very fond of her, but I need to think about it.”
With a gagging noise, Harper ran for the stairs, bolting to her bedroom with remarkable speed.
“She’s afraid,” Nyalla commented softly. “She doesn’t know what their influence will do to change her baby. There’s already this deep fear in her that her son won’t be human, that she won’t be able to handle him, that he’ll grow into some unrecognizable creature.”
“I know one.” Candy’s voice was breathless as she sprawled naked on the floor, trying to gather the strength to stand and dress. “If she sees a grown Nephilim, maybe that will convince her.”
“You know one?” We all had our secrets, but perhaps Candy had more than her share.
She nodded. “Not too far away. Do you think you can get Harper to see her?”
“I can’t risk Harper leaving the house.” It didn’t matter if this Nephilim was next door, we were all at risk if Harper stepped one foot out my door. “Can she come here?”
Candy shook her head, pulling herself upright with a hand on my table. “She can’t leave the protection of her territory. It wouldn’t just be her at risk. If she were caught, we’d all be endangered.”
Damn. I watched Candy dress and wondered how to solve this seemingly unsolvable problem.
“Skype,” Nyalla chimed in. “Or video conference. Sam, you go meet with this Nephilim, and Harper and I can watch and ask questions from your laptop.”
“Nyalla, you’re brilliant.” I sometimes forgot how easy human technology had made things. Skype. Go figure.
Candy picked up her Louis Vuitton bag and settled it in the crook of her elbow. “I’ll arrange the meeting. Just remember, Sam, these are werewolves. You might be some weird demon/angel mix right now, but they’ll still see you as an angel. Be on your best behavior.”
As if I ever was on anything but my best behavior. “Of course, Candy. Best behavior. Scouts honor.”
–17–
I stood in the huge restaurant of a racetrack/casino in Charles Town, West Virginia. The first race was lining up, and I’d been sidetracked from my mission to buy a past–performance program and place a few bets. There was also a nice off–track betting deal going on the dog races on TV, and a whole casino full of slots and table games downstairs. The buffet wasn’t half bad either. The hot wings left a lot to be desired, but the selection of chocolate pastries made up for it. I was in heaven. I didn’t care if this werewolf Nephilim showed up or not.
And they were off. Pigs In Flight took the lead, never a good thing, with Tap–handle Extraordinaire a nose behind. My pick, Punch ‘Em Where It Counts, was solidly in the middle of the pack and on the outside. At the first turn, my horse had fallen into sixth — a respectable position given the amount of distance left to cover.
“Sam,” Candy said in my ear. I cut her off with a wave. There was money on the line here, and this half–angel would have to wait.
Pigs In Flight was losing his wings, while Tap–handle pulled to the front. Bouncing Baby Bunny was coming up on the inside, and Piece of Asphalt was strong in the middle, but blocked by the other three. Punch ‘Em Where It Counts edged into fifth, steady, but still on the outside where he’d need to cover more distance than the others to gain any ground.
“Go Punch!” I screamed, which probably would have been more appropriate had I been in the outdoor stands. Since I wasn’t, half the restaurant turned to stare at me.
“Stupid idea, bringing a demon to a racetrack for a meeting,” Candy muttered. I ignored her.
By the second turn, Pigs had dropped like a stone. Tap–handle and Piece were neck–and–neck. Punch ‘Em Where It Counts had a good hold on third. I could see the power in the bay roan, held back just waiting for release. The other horses weren’t flagging, but they didn’t have the barely restrained explosion that I saw in this Punch horse.
“Sam.” Candy’s voice was firm, but with a pleading note.
I considered turning my attention to her, but at that moment, Punch ‘Em Where It Counts hit the nitro. His stride lengthened, his neck extending as he steadily edged up on Piece of Asphalt and Tap–handle. Punch ate the distance, one bite at a time, until he was half a length in the lead. It wasn’t a photo finish, but watching the three horses run flat–out across the line was a thing of beauty.
“How much did you win?”
The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Probably a lot. I like to bet on the underdog.”
“I can imagine an imp who somehow wound up being the Iblis would bet on the underdog.”
I turned and saw a vampire, of all things. She was diminutive in build, barely over five–feet tall with short black hair and dark eyes. Vampires owned a lot of the casinos, strip clubs, and bars in their territories, but it was surprising that werewolves would want to meet at a vampire–owned establishment. They stayed as far away from each other as possible. Also surprising was that this vampire knew me. I searched my memory, sure I should recognize her from somewhere.
“Sorry I don’t have any nacho–cheese Doritos to shove up your bum.”
That Kelly girl from the casino up in Atlantic City! I figured after she had a fit of anger in the hotel lobby at a demon VIP guest, the master–guy would have killed her. She looked at me with a combination of hostility and wariness, but I was just overjoyed that she was actually alive. I snatched her into my arms and hugged her.
Evidently that was not the PC thing to do. Vampires are strong, and she could have easily shrugged me off had she not been so shocked. Instead, I found myself surrounded by werewolves, all yanking at me and shouting. Candy too, although her shouts seemed to be more attempts to pacify the lot of us. Before they managed to tear me limb–from limb, I let the vampire go and flung myself backward. My momentum knocked the two werewolves behind me off balance, and I landed on the floor on top of them.
“I’m okay,” Kelly said, a hand out to halt the tall woman beside her. “She didn’t hurt me, just hugged me.”
The word hug was accompanied by a shudder of revulsion. I would have been insulted had I not been staring at the woman beside her. She was tall and thin with fine, sandy–blond hair that flew around a freckled face. And her eyes glowed silver. Werewolf, yet not a werewolf.
“This,” Candy panted, obviously trying to salvage the meeting, “this is Jaq. She’s a Nephilim — a First.”
I jumped up to extend my hand, and the Nephilim stepped backward, her eyes widening in alarm.
“I’m not going to hug you,” I reassured her. “At least not at this particular moment.”
An easy grin lifted the edges of her wide mouth. The lopsided smile reflected in her odd, silver–colored eyes and transformed her thin face into one of beauty. She stepped forward and clasped my hand in hers. She was strong. I could feel the power flow through her. And I felt a whole lot more. She wasn’t like the demon hybrids I’d known in my life. This Jaq had more angel in her than human. Her spirit–self was easy inside the physical form she wore — comfortably in control of every molecule of her being. Werewolves were only able to manage their two forms, but I got the feeling this woman commanded far more than that. I edged my personal energy into hers, sensing who and what she was beneath the skin. Such incredible power, cold and damp, fluid. Her spirit–self had a liquid quality — oil, water, mercury — interesting.
Her eyes met mine, and she withdrew her hand. “Well, that was darned rude of you. Guess I shouldn’t have expected any different from a demon. I think I would have preferred you hug me than feel me up on the inside like that.”
It was rude to basically grope her spirit–self as I’d done. But I needed to know — I needed to be able to tell Hunter what to expect from the baby that grew inside her womb.
“That’s me — taking every liberty I can get away with.”
She raised her eyebrows but seemed more amused than angry. Kelly stepped forward and took her hand. It was then that I understood. Somehow these two had overcome whatever divided their races and managed to become more than friends.
“Who is your father?” I asked the Nephilim.
“No idea.” At least she was one of those to–the–point individuals. “I was raised by a werewolf couple. They are my parents in every way. I love their son as if he were my brother in blood. I’ve got no clue who my birth parents are — angel father or human mother.”
I felt the pain of sorrow, short and sharp, from her. “It haunts you that they left you with others and never looked back.”
Jaq took a deep breath. “The only reason I’m discussing this with you is ‘cause I care about that woman and her baby. I want them to have the safety and protection I do.”
I nodded. It was probably a good time to set up the computers and do our Skype call, but something made me hold off. I wanted to hear what this woman said first, before I decided how to present the information to Harper.
“I understand why my birth parents did what they did. They’d rather I grew up without them than die at the hands of some angel. Still, I often wonder who they were. Do they wonder about me? Do they imagine the person I’ve become? Do they wish they could see me and know what happened in my life? They’ll never know.”
I thought of how much Harper suffered at the idea of giving her child away and wondered if Jaq’s mother felt the same. I sensed her honest sorrow over her birth parents. And I also sensed her lie.
“But they do know, don’t they, Jaq.” She didn’t know of my weird angel status, didn’t probably think she needed to hide from my fledgling ability to detect falsehood. “Your father, he came to see you, didn’t he? In the wind, in a flowing stream, in the adrenaline of the hunt. Sometimes you saw something odd and knew, just knew, he was watching to see the daughter you’d become.”