"Liz?" Megan murmured, bringing me back to the here and now.
"Ruthie touched me and gave me her power," I said.
"Power," Megan repeated.
"To see, to know—" I moved my hands helplessly, uncertain how to explain.
When a supernatural entity came near, seers heard a voice—for me, it was Ruthie's voice—telling us what type of demon lay behind the benign human face. Or, if we were lucky, we received advance warning through a vision. Then it was our duty to send out a demon killer to end the problem.
Before Ruthie had died she'd passed her sight to me, and given me a helluva coma—but I'd survived. It had taken some time to learn how to control the power; sometimes I still wasn't sure how in control I was, but I thought I was getting the hang of it.
"There are monsters in the world," I continued. "Always have been."
"I'm aware of that."
"I'm not using a euphemism. When I say monster I mean tooth and claw—magical, ancient, legendary beings that plan to destroy us."
"I'm Irish," Megan said. "I know."
"What does being Irish have to do with anything?"
"I was raised to believe in magical, legendary creatures—both good and evil." When I continued to frown, Megan fluttered her lingers in a "get on with it" gesture. "Just tell me."
"Ruthie was killed by the Nephilim."
"Offspring of the fallen angels and the daughters of men."
I blinked. "How do you know that?"
"It's in the Bible, Liz."
I waggled my hand back and forth. "Eh."
Oh, here and there a line about fallen angels, Satan, giants, and monsters could be found. In truth, the Bible was a scary, scary book, and that was before you even got to Revelation. But the whole story of the Nephilim— that had been left out.
"You've read the Book of Enoch?" I asked.
"Yeah." She shrugged. "I was curious."
Over the centuries, several sections had been removed from the Bible. Enoch had originally been beloved by Jews and Christians alike until it was pronounced heresy and banned. They did that a lot back then.
"In the interest of saving time," I said, "why don't you let me in on what you already know?" I had places to go, people to question, demons to kill. The brand-new story of my life.
"Certain angels were given the task of watching over the humans," Megan began. 'They were called the Watchers. But they lusted after them instead and were banished by God. Their offspring were known as the Nephilim."
"Some say they were giants," I continued when she didn't. "They devoured man and beast; they drank the blood of their enemies. Their strength was legion. They could fly. They could shape-shift."
Megan's eyes widened, and her mouth made an O of surprise. "You're saying—"
"Vampires. Werewolves. Evil, dark, creepy things. The legends of monsters in every culture down through the ages."
"Are all true?"
"Pretty much."
"The sons and daughters of the Watchers are still on earth," Megan murmured. "That explains a lot." . "It does?"
"Didn't you ever wonder how some people could be so purely evil? How they could do what they do to others and still be human?" Megan tilted her head. "It's simple. They're not."
She was handling this a lot better than I had. But then, she was Irish.
“Ruthie could see what these things are, even when they look human?" I nodded. "And now you can?" Another nod. That about summed it up.
"So what is she?" Megan jerked her head toward the center of the room, where we'd last seen the woman of smoke.
"Trouble," I murmured. But then what evil half-demon wasn't? I got to my feet. "I'm gonna have to go."
"Without telling me what she was?"
“You're better off not knowing."
Too much information could get Megan killed. As it was, I wasn't going to be able to come back here anytime soon—if ever.
"You're headed after her?"
"Eventually." First I needed to have a little chat with Sawyer—the man who'd given me the turquoise that had kept his mother from killing me.
Coincidence? I didn't believe in them anymore.
"So you're what?" Megan asked. "Superpsychic hero girl? Leader of some cult of antidemonites?"
"Close enough," I answered, then hesitated. Should I hug her, or shouldn't I? I was never quite sure about things like that. "Listen, Meg, if you need anything, call my cell."
She stared at me for several seconds. "You're not coming back this time."
"It's not safe for you if I'm around."
“I can take care of myself," Megan said.
'Thanks to me, you have to."
She let out an impatient sigh. "Let it go, Liz. I've told you before that Max's death wasn't your fault."
But I knew differently. If Megan died because of me, I didn't think I'd be able to go on. And I had to.
The fate of the world was in my hands. I headed home to pack a bag and get myself on a flight to Albuquerque. Since Sawyer lived at the edge of the Navajo reservation, which was hell and gone from the airport, I'd also have to rent a car.
It would certainly be easier to give him a call. Unfortunately, the man didn't have a phone. Sawyer was—