eighteen
“Alec’s an angel?” Brian stared in disbelief as he plopped into the corner chair in Erica’s bedroom twenty minutes later.
“Apparently.” Stunned, Claire paced back and forth at the foot of Erica’s bed. They’d just filled him in on what had happened at Alec’s apartment that morning and had given him the gist of Claire’s vision.
“If that’s true, why doesn’t Alec have wings and a halo?” Brian asked.
Erica gestured at the computer on her lap. “Well, according to what we read on the web, the angels in the Bible never had wings or halos. Those are just visual symbols used in illustrations to help the illiterate masses identify the beings as superior to man.”
“Oh.” Brian shook his head in rising awe. “Wow, this is epic!”
“We’re not sure how big it is,” Erica retorted matter-offactly. “We don’t even understand most of it yet.”
“All we have to go by,” Claire added, “is what the woman said in my vision. But just because she’s supposedly an angel, too, that doesn’t mean (a) she’s a credible source, or (b) I wasn’t hallucinating the whole thing.”
“I seriously doubt you’d hallucinate words you’ve never heard of before,” Brian pointed out. “She never actually said angel, right?”
“No,” Claire admitted. “She said Grigori.”
“Is that singular or plural?” Brian asked.
“Apparently it’s both. Like fish or moose,” Erica explained, glancing at her computer screen. “At least, according to Wikipedia.”
“Another credible source,” Claire added with a roll of her eyes.
“The Bible says that the Watchers, or Grigori, are a group of angels sent to watch over humanity,” Erica continued, undaunted. “But before the great flood, they began to lust for human women. It’s all in Genesis, Chapter Six. Look.”
Erica turned her laptop around, and Claire read aloud from the screen:
Now it came about, when men began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves. … The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of men, and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown.
“So Nephilim are hybrid angels and humans,” Brian mused when Claire had finished reading.
“And supposedly, I’m descended from one of those ‘hybrids,’” Claire said doubtfully.
“No shit?” Brian’s brown eyes grew as wide as saucers. “She said that? You’re part messenger from God?”
“I might be,” Claire insisted. “If any of this is true, it must go way, way back. I might have, like, a drop of angel blood in me.”
“Might?” Erica scoffed. “Claire, two hours ago you were floating above my bedroom floor!”
“Floating?” Brian shook his head. “I gotta give you credit, CB, you are never boring.”
“Am I the only one who finds all this hard to believe?” Claire frowned. “Do you guys really think Alec—or anyone else—could actually be an angel?”
“Why not?” said Erica. “You were totally ready to believe he was a vampire.”
“That’s different. I don’t know why, but I can accept that vampires could be real. But angels? If angels exist, doesn’t that mean that God and the devil exist too?”
Brian shrugged. “Maybe they do, but angels aren’t proof either way.”
“I always thought angels were beings of pure goodness and light,” Claire went on, “so why did I have a vision of Alec killing someone?”
“The Bible also has warrior angels who carry swords and smite the wicked,” Erica pointed out. “Maybe that’s what you saw.”
Claire nodded, cringing. “He was definitely smiting someone.” She threw up her hands with a sigh. “None of this proves that I’m descended from an angel. How did it happen? Was one of my mother’s distant ancestors a Grigori? Or does the bloodline come from my father’s side?”
“You don’t know anything about your father, right?” Brian asked.
“Absolutely nothing. Except that he vanished not long after I was born.”
“Well, whichever side it comes from,” Erica said, “I think it’s real. It must be responsible for these weird psychic powers you have—and be the reason someone wants you dead.”
“Wonderful,” Claire added quietly, sinking down on the bed with renewed trepidation, “and the person who’s supposed to protect me is Alec.”
Claire didn’t sleep a wink that night. Although Erica, beside her, nodded off minutes after her head hit the pillow, and Claire could hear Brian snoring in the guest room across the hall, Claire tossed and turned all night long, too astonished and frightened by everything they’d just learned to even contemplate sleep.
On the one hand, the whole thing seemed impossible and ridiculous. Claire tried to convince herself that there was some other explanation for Alec’s incredible powers and for her freakish mental episodes. But the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it might be true.
All her life, her mom had been so secretive and neurotic, watching over Claire like a hawk, packing up and moving at the slightest indication of impending trouble. Was it possible her mother knew something about all this? Did her mom suspect that Claire might have inherited angel blood? All these years, had her mom been worried that Claire might come into some kind of weird, part-angel powers, and that somehow it would spell her doom? If so, it would explain a lot. But did it mean that the angel blood came from her mom’s side or her dad’s side? And why would somebody want to kill her? What possible threat could she be to anyone?
At breakfast the next morning, Claire sat silent and bleary-eyed as Erica and Brian made small talk with Erica’s family. Afterward, Claire picked up Alec’s car from the parking lot where she’d left it the day before and tried to return it, with Erica and Brian following in Brian’s silver Accord. When they got to Alec’s apartment, however, his curtains were drawn and he didn’t answer her knock. Since the car keys wouldn’t fit in his mailbox slot, she left him a note instead.
Alec,
I’m sorry I stole your car in a panic. I’m keeping it safe at my place. Please call me so I can bring it back to you.
Claire
P.S. We have to talk. Now.
Claire dropped the note in the box. As they headed back to their cars, Brian said, “Want us to follow you home and stay for a while? Just to make sure you’re safe?”
“Thanks, but no.” Claire slipped into Alec’s car. “I’ll be fine.” In truth, she didn’t feel fine at all. She was overwhelmed by fear and exhaustion, her mind was still in a whirl, and every nerve in her body seemed to be standing on end—but she was dying for some alone time. “I haven’t seen anybody lurking in the bushes yet,” she added, striving for a light tone. “Thanks again, guys, for everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The drive back to her place was mercifully uneventful.
“Mom! I’m home,” she called out in her cheeriest voice as she unlocked the front door and entered.
There was no answer. Claire saw a sticky note resting on the entryway table. It read:
Claire—
I have two showings this morning and an open house until 5. Please take the lasagna out of the freezer and pop it in the oven at 4:30. See you for dinner!
Love, Mom
Claire sighed with relief, grabbing the note and bringing it upstairs as a reminder. She’d assumed her mom wouldn’t be home—her mom almost always worked on the weekends. Although Claire was desperately curious to ask her mom a few things, she wasn’t ready to talk about this just yet. She looked forward to taking a hot shower and dropping into her own bed where, hopefully, she’d finally be able to sleep.
Sticking the note on her door, Claire entered her room, dumped her purse on her dresser, and kicked off her boots. With both hands, she grabbed the hem of her peasant top and was about to yank it up and over her head, when suddenly a calm, deep voice sounded from behind her.
“Wait.”
Claire yelped in alarm and spun, her fists still gripping her shirt.
Someone sat in her desk chair, his eyes on the floor. Someone looking as red-faced and sleep-deprived as she was.
Alec.