Last of the Nephilim Read online

  “I am searching for Enoch,” Thigocia said. “We saw him from Earth, and we assumed he could tell us what happened to my mate.”

  “Well, that is quite a feat. Enoch rarely travels far from Heaven’s Altar, so your eyesight must be keen indeed.” Glewlwyd made a circle with his fingers and placed it in front of his eye. “Did Elam let you borrow Enoch’s prophetic spyglass?”

  Ashley stepped forward and began her characteristic rapid-fire explanation. “We looked through a portal created by Mardon’s giants when they tried to merge Earth with Heaven, and we could see Enoch, Acacia, and Elam standing on a field much like this one. I also saw a vision in the sky that looked like my father, Timothy … or Makaidos … burning up. We think he died, but we want to know for sure, and we want to find out if there’s any way to take his body home, or whatever’s left of it.”

  As Glewlwyd lowered his hand, the lines in his face turned downward. “Makaidos was a fine dragon king and was sorely missed during my final years on Earth. I honor him highly.”

  “Then can you help us find him?” Ashley asked.

  “I will tell you what I know.” He extended an arm and pointed across the grassy expanse. “I sent Elam to the bridge not long ago, and now you tell me that he has found Enoch. I have also met Acacia, a lovely white-haired girl with sparkling blue eyes. She accompanied my friend Joseph who was carrying a woman who appeared to be dead. Yet, I have not seen King Makaidos. No, not in this realm.”

  “He might have been in human form,” Thigocia explained. “His human name is Timothy.”

  Glewlwyd shook his head. “I have no recollection of a man named Timothy, but if you wish to inquire of Enoch, I suggest that you follow Elam’s path. The bridge is treacherous, but holy ones are able to cross, though sometimes through great suffering. Yet, I do not know how to advise a dragon. The bridge would never hold you. You could attempt an air crossing, though I fear it might well be impossible. It is not called Zeno’s Chasm for no reason.”

  Walter pondered those words. The name Zeno sounded familiar, some Greek guy who—

  “He was a Greek philosopher,” Ashley said. “He described a paradox that claimed you can never reach any given point, because you always have to go halfway there first, and there are an infinite number of halfway points, and each one of those can’t be reached, because—”

  “Stop it!” Walter pressed his hands against his head.

  “I know. It’s contrary to observed fact. I was just trying to explain—”

  “No!” Walter lowered a hand and pointed at his skull. “I mean stop reading my mind.”

  “But I didn’t. I just assumed you would want to know.”

  “You assumed I didn’t know. How would you feel if I did that to you?”

  After a few seconds of silence, Ashley dipped her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Now with a solemn countenance, she turned to Glewlwyd and extended her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Sir. Do you have any last-minute instructions before we head for the chasm?”

  “Indeed I do.” He pointed again toward the horizon. “Be sure to cross by way of the bridge. Other travelers have told of a different passage, but I strongly advise against seeking it. If you search in the wrong direction, you will never be able to find the bridge again.”

  “How can that be true?” Ashley asked. “You could just follow the edge of the chasm back to where you started.”

  Glewlwyd chuckled. “Young lady, you have parroted Elam almost word for word. You must learn that this world is very different from your own. Your knowledge of the physical laws of your realm could very well be a hindrance rather than a help in this one.”

  “That sounds familiar.” Thigocia set the tip of a wing on Ashley’s back. “Doesn’t it, my dear?”

  Ashley gave her a sly wink. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Familiar or not,” Thigocia said, “I have seen many strange things here. We should trust this knight’s counsel and fly to the edge of the chasm, then decide what to do when we get there. Perhaps from the air, we will be able to see the safest passage.”

  Glewlwyd raised a knobby finger. “Another way is likely to exist, but I exhort you to heed my warning. If it is Heaven’s Altar you seek, the bridge is the only way to arrive at that destination. All other paths are far more treacherous than they appear. The bridge, however, will never let you fall as long as you are a follower of the Christ.”

  “Even if you jump?” Ashley asked.

  A sad frown wilted the old man’s face. “I have no answer for that. I cannot imagine anyone wanting to leap into the chasm.”

  “Just asking. I’m an analyst, so it’s hard to imagine a bridge having a will of its own. It really can’t keep you on it if you don’t want to be there.”

  “I will not argue the point, young lady, but again I warn you to beware of assumptions that arise from your earthly understandings. Perhaps the bridge would allow an insane fellow to leap from its grasp. I cannot say.” Glewlwyd wrapped his arms around himself tightly. “But as long as you hold on with all your might, the bridge will never let you fall.”

  Irene closed her laptop computer and sat back in the motel room’s desk chair. No Internet. Not even dial-up. Shaking her head at herself, she slid the computer into its pack. She should have known. With a slayer on their trail, civilization might be inaccessible for quite a while.

  Now sitting in darkness, except for a ribbon of light peeking through the gap between the curtain and the window, she listened to the sounds of the two-lane highway that served as a front porch for this rural flophouse. A car buzzed by from left to right, then a rumbling truck from the other direction.

  After the whining of tires on pavement faded in the distance, silence ensued, blanketing the room as if having a sound all its own. The rush of blood pumping through her ears blended with gentle breaths, her own as well as Bonnie’s as she slept in one of the nearby beds.

  Soon, another truck droned along the highway, but this one slowed down. Its headlights flashed across the curtain, and the engine died away. Irene stood and edged toward the window. Apparently a tired driver couldn’t endure the hundred miles to the next oasis and decided to pull into this rundown motel. But he was about to be disappointed. Although there were vacancies, a sign on the office window said no check-ins after midnight.

  A door slammed outside. Standing inches away from the curtain, she longed to learn who would be traveling the lonely highway—a married couple on a honeymoon, a family on a cross-country trek with children sleeping in the back, or a businessman lost after a wrong turn back at Route 45—but she resisted the urge to peek outside. The last time she investigated a noise in the night—another night when Bonnie slept peacefully in bed—proved painful beyond words. To this day, the image of a sword plowing into her stomach sent shock waves through her nerves, replaying the most horrible physical pain she had ever endured.

  She leaned closer to the window. Maybe she could just nudge the curtain to the side enough to see. Using her nose, she pushed it an inch. Her Ford Expedition, rented the morning before, sat in the space directly in front of their window, but, with the small gap, little else came into view.

  Letting out a yawn, she walked back to her chair, checking her glowing watch. Five after one in the morning. Sleep was always a luxury when running from slayers. Now it was impossible, especially under these circumstances. This time it seemed that ghosts chased her instead of flesh-and-blood humans.

  As she watched Bonnie sleep, a more recent memory flowed through her mind, their reason for being on the run. After their harrowing adventure in the battle against the Watchers back in Maryland and her own transformation from dragon to human, she and Bonnie had decided to go away for a while, a vacation at a ski lodge in the Pennsylvania mountains. Irene sat again and watched the memory play, somewhat fuzzy and distorted, with faces and voices the only clear input.

  Laughing, Bonnie tossed a popcorn kernel into Irene’s open mouth. Irene caught it and chomped down. “
Mmmm! I haven’t had popcorn since I died!”

  Huddled in blankets, Bonnie handed her a red and white box, spilling a few kernels onto their laps. “Take as much as you want. I’ll start the movie.” She pointed a remote at the television and pushed a button. “I guess you haven’t seen any of the Narnia movies, have you?”

  Shaking her head, she spoke through a mouthful of popcorn. “Let it roll!”

  The television flashed on, but instead of images from the DVD Bonnie had inserted, an animated portrait of Devin wielding a sword took over the screen. As sinister and nightmarish as ever, the evil knight approached the foreground and pointed his sword.

  “Put down the popcorn, Demon Witches, and listen carefully. This is not a recording. I see the box you’re sharing, the red and white one on the older witch’s lap, and the mugs of hot chocolate poised at your feet, one yellow and one blue. Be careful not to kick them over when you run.” As they sat riveted in their seats, he laughed loud and long. “And you will run. If you stay at this lodge, I will kill you in your sleep, and when you leave, I will chase you to the ends of the Earth. And every night as you try to sleep, remember that I will have already found you, and I will sneak into your lair and slit your throats.”

  The television flashed, and the opening scene from the movie began to play. Irene leaped to her feet. “Grab your suitcase! I’ll get mine! Just stuff all you can inside. We have to run!”

  As the memory faded away, Irene sighed. They had been running ever since.

  She stared at the ticking second hand on her watch, now showing ten after one. Another glow, ever so faint, caught her eye, something near her finger. She lifted her hand. The light followed. She touched it with her other hand and felt the slick surface of the gem in her ring—the rubellite she had worn before she became a dragon again. Now glowing with a barely perceptible white aura, it brought back another recent memory, the day she found the ring after reading a note her husband had entered in his journal before he died.

  As soon as she started growing, I pulled off her ring, knowing it would strangle or perhaps even sever her finger. Even then, I could barely get it off. Soon, her swelling muscles ripped her clothes to shreds, and I had to cut away the collar and waistband to keep them from constricting her rapid, shallow breaths. The clothing, of course, I discarded, but I put the ring in my briefcase’s zippered pocket.

  Finding the briefcase proved difficult. Since it had been buried by rubble in the mountain collapse, she had to search for hours, but recovering the symbol of her dragon life was worth it. When she finally unearthed the briefcase, the outer shell had broken apart, but the inner pocket still held the ring, safe and sound.

  She caressed the smooth gem. What could the glow mean? The white shade, of course, proved that she no longer had dragon essence, but why it would emit light was a new mystery.

  She glanced over at Bonnie, just a lump in the darkness. She slept soundly … quietly … peacefully. This new danger didn’t seem to faze her. In fact, she seemed invigorated by it. All the dangers she had faced had instilled her with a longing for adventure.

  A gentle knock sounded on the door. Irene froze. Who could it be? Of course, Devin wouldn’t knock. He was neither polite nor anxious to give away his presence.

  She rose slowly and looked through the door’s peephole. A white-haired man, shivering and blowing white puffs as he bundled his heavy coat together, stood on the walkway in the glow of a parking lot streetlamp.

  Irene checked the chain. It seemed good and strong, at least strong enough to stop an old man. Opening the door an inch or so, she pressed her mouth close to the crack. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Enoch.” He backed up a step and spread out his coat, revealing a dark belted robe. “As you can see I am unarmed.”

  “Enoch, the prophet?” She narrowed the door’s opening. “Why should I believe you?”

  He held a small object close to the door’s opening. “Because of this.”

  She focused on his fingers. It was a gold ring with a mounted gem. “A rubellite?” she asked.

  “Not just a rubellite.” He pushed it through the opening. “Examine it closely.”

  She plucked the ring from his hand and flicked on the standing lamp next to the door. As she rocked the gold band back and forth under the light, she took note of several features. The dark red gem had at least three major cracks, and the mounting seemed loose. And was that an inscription in the band? She held it closer to her eyes, forming the tiny words with her lips as she read them silently. To Hannah. Now I am Autarkeia.

  She blurted out the last word. “Autarkeia?”

  A quiet sigh drifted toward her from Bonnie’s bed. “Mama? Are you okay?”

  Irene flicked off the light. In the sudden darkness, she couldn’t see if her daughter was sitting or still lying down. “Everything’s fine, Bonnie.”

  “Is someone at the door?”

  “An old friend. I’ll tell you about it in a minute.” She slid the chain off, swung the door open, then pulled it nearly closed again behind her as she stepped outside.

  Enoch closed his coat and smiled. “I assume you deduced where it came from.”

  “Autarkeia means contentment.” She held up the ring. “This was my father’s.”

  “Excellent. I’m glad you remember.”

  “But I heard his rubellite shattered after the dragons exited Dragons’ Rest and made their choices.”

  “It was destroyed, but it was temporarily restored to him in another world.”

  She sucked in a quick breath. “Then is he alive?”

  “I’m afraid not, my dear,” he said, patting her hand tenderly. “It’s a very long story that will have to wait to be told fully.” He touched the gem with his fingertip as if anointing it. “After the end of his life in the other world, I recovered the gem from the remains of an inferno. It was quite a chore piecing it back together and polishing it, but I think it is functional once again.”

  “Functional?” She laid the ring in her palm and stared at it. “What do you mean?”

  “As a dragon who served mankind with all his heart, Makaidos sometimes longed to be human himself, but he had to learn to be content with whichever form God deemed better. Since he learned that lesson well, and since he was the king of the dragons, God bestowed on his rubellite the power to give him a choice to keep his dragon essence or become fully human. Now, I am asking you to take it with you. There will come a time when you will have the opportunity to make it available to him.” He covered her hand, and the ring, with his hand. “You, too, have such a ring. As I’m sure you have learned by now, the blessing of contentment often opens the door to wider opportunities.”

  She pressed a finger against her chest. “Do you mean that I could become a—”

  “Dragon again?” He nodded. “If that is your choice.”

  Irene backed away a step. “I … I don’t want to choose. I don’t want that responsibility.”

  “Life is filled with choices we don’t want to make.” Enoch pulled her closer and whispered. “And what does Bonnie want? What would make her content?”

  “She’s already content. She decided—”

  “Shhh.” Enoch pressed two fingers over her lips. “I don’t want to know. It is crucial that you reveal her current state to as few people as possible.”

  As he drew his fingers away, she raised the gem closer to her eyes. “So do we look at it to make a choice?”

  “That gem, as well as yours, must be energized in a way you will not understand. You might not know that an Oracle of Fire stood within that gem and created a covenant veil. The two witnesses cried out, ‘Jehovah Yasha,’ to ensure that all imprisoned dragons who passed through believed in the saving power of the Maker’s Messiah. Once a gem is energized, the same transforming power that once infused Makaidos’s gem will be stored within.” He withdrew a curved bone from underneath his coat. “This is a rib. Even as God used one of Adam’s ribs to fashion a helpmate, he will soon u
se one of Timothy’s to create helpers for him.”

  As Irene reached toward the bone, her hands trembled. “This is one of my … my father’s bones?”

  “He sacrificed himself to save Roxil and Ashley, and in the fires of rebirth, his bones are now filled with the power to regenerate. This, in combination with the gem, will harness the transforming power.”

  She took the bone, but her hand wouldn’t stop shaking. “How does it work?”

  Enoch glanced at the highway. A semi barreled along, close enough to add to the breeze after it passed. “It is cold, and time is short, so I cannot explain everything. When you see one of the Oracles of Fire, give the bone to her, and I will tell her how to use it. I would give it to her myself, but I can’t assume which one will accept the task. Neither of the Oracles wishes to return to the place where you must hide.

  “Also, have Bonnie wear her backpack at all times. I repeat, it is important that you hide whether or not she has wings. As I said, even I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

  Irene nodded. “I understand. We haven’t told anyone yet, not even Billy.”

  “You should also leave at once.” He reached into a deep outer pocket and handed her an electronic gadget that looked like a flat walkie-talkie. “This is a GPS mapping device. It has already been programmed to direct you to Timothy’s former home in Montana. You should go there with all haste, and I will try to make sure an Oracle of Fire meets you with further instructions.”

  Irene backed up again, pushing the motel room door open behind her. She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible, yet loud enough to communicate urgency. “Bonnie. Get packed. We have to go right away.”

  Through the darkness, Irene could barely see Bonnie’s seated form on the bed. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I’ll explain on the way.” As she turned to Enoch, Irene slid the ring into her jeans pocket and took the GPS unit. “It’s a long way to Montana. It might take a couple of days.”