Forbidden

nineteen

“How the hell did you get in here?” Claire cried, shrinking back and grimacing as she banged into her dresser.
Alec winced in sympathy. “I’ll explain in a minute,” he responded quietly.
To Alec’s relief, Claire didn’t appear to be terrified at the sight of him—just tired and astonished—although she blushed furiously, crossing her arms over her chest, as if she felt exposed even though he’d stopped her before she took off her shirt. “I’m really sorry I startled you, Claire,” he continued, “but I had to talk to you. I was afraid you wouldn’t let me in if I came to the door.”
After everything Claire had seen yesterday, he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, or what she imagined him to be. But to his chagrin, there was no longer any doubt about her. Claire was definitely the Halfblood Vincent was seeking. Alec still didn’t know what her true power was, or why she’d reacted so violently when he’d kissed her, but he’d seen her emerald aura, a color so rare he’d never witnessed it in his entire life—and had only heard about it in old legends.
“How long have you been here?” Claire asked, her hazel eyes wide.
“A few hours. Since your mom left this morning.” Alec noticed several small purple bruises on her chest above the neckline of her blouse, and he cringed inwardly. “You’re hurt.”
“Your car doesn’t have air bags. No big deal, they’re just bruises.”
“I’m sorry, that’s my fault,” he said again with deep sincerity, not moving from his chair. She was staring at him tensely, as if she might bolt at any second—and any movement on his part might trigger her flight. “There’s a lot to say, Claire. But the most important thing is: I’m not here to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
She nodded, her wariness now giving way to what looked like a mix of awe and fascination as she studied him. “Every time I’ve asked you what you are, you’ve avoided the subject or made me feel like I was crazy. Are you here to tell me the truth?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Now that he knew what she was, it wasn’t against the rules to discuss this with her. In fact, it was encouraged. “Aye.”
“Finally.” Then, with confidence and conviction, she said, “So, you’re a Grigori?”
The question was so unexpected that Alec nearly fell out of the chair. “How do you know that word?”
“Just answer the question: Are you or are you not a Grigori? A Watcher? An angel? ”
His heart pounded in a frenzy and he glanced away. He couldn’t believe it: She knew. How was it possible? No one had ever asked him that question point-blank before. It felt strange not to broach the subject himself with a reluctant or skeptical subject.
Alec returned his eyes to hers again. “I don’t like the term angel. None of us do. But—yes. I am a Grigori.”
“Okay. Okay.” She looked like she was about to hyperventilate now. “And what am I? Am I really a Nephilim?”
If he’d been surprised before, it was nothing to this. He’d had a speech all prepared, but apparently it was unnecessary. All he could do was nod, dumbfounded.
Claire reacted in equally stunned disbelief. “Wow. This is … really…” Her voice trailed off, and it took a long moment before she looked him in the eye again. Then they were just staring at each other.
He broke the silence. “How do you know all this, Claire? Can you read minds?”
“Not exactly.” Claire shook off her exhaustion with a deep sigh. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it, and I have about a million questions to ask you. But I’ve just spent the past twenty hours cooped up in Erica’s bedroom, and with what I know now, being alone here with you is kind of … nerve-racking, to say the least.”
“I understand.”
“Do you mind if we go somewhere else to talk? Someplace outside that maybe has one or two other people around?”
Alec rose to his feet, his lips twitching with repressed amusement. “As in, a quiet location with a few potential witnesses?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Alec took her to one of his favorite spots: the Venice Canals, a unique and peaceful neighborhood in West Los Angeles just five blocks from the famous Venice boardwalk, where paved sidewalks meandered alongside intersecting water channels covered by arched bridges, past long rows of beautiful homes with small, landscaped gardens.
“I can’t believe I live only a few miles from here and I didn’t even know this place existed.” Claire gazed about with a tense smile as they strolled along, listening to the ducks splashing in the canal and the chirping of birds in the nearby trees.
The hot sun baked Alec’s shoulders and was reflected so brightly in the dark greenish-blue of the canal that he wished he’d brought sunglasses. They passed a mom pushing a baby in a stroller, a couple working in their yard, and several people walking their dogs on the other side of the canal, but otherwise the area was quiet and serene.
“Some people live in L.A. their entire lives and never find out about it,” Alec said. “I hoped you’d find it the perfect blend of visibility and solitude.”
“It is,” Claire agreed, although she still looked nervous and wary.
As they walked, Claire told him what had been happening to her over the past two weeks—that she’d been receiving weird visions through touch, revealing random glimpses of people’s past or future—and how she’d actually changed Neil’s future by tutoring him in Spanish.
“So that’s your gift,” Alec mused. “A form of second sight.”
“It doesn’t feel like a gift. It feels like a curse. The visions make me sick, and I have no idea when they’re going to come.”
“We call each of our abilities a gift or talent. You’ll learn to control yours in time.” Alec sent her a look that he hoped was reassuring. She looked so pretty and vulnerable, walking beside him, the sunlight glinting off her hair. How much did she really know about her own situation? Was she aware of how much danger she was in, if she was found? He wanted more than anything to take her hand in his—both to offer her comfort, and for the joy her touch would bring him—but in light of her newly awakened abilities, that didn’t seem like a good idea.
Hesitantly, he asked, “What happened yesterday, when we … kissed? You said you saw something. Did you get a vision about me?”
Claire nodded. “I saw you drop a car on a man and kill him. In 1962. I think it was in France.”
“Oh shite.” Alec felt his cheeks grow warm.
He vaguely remembered the incident in question. Of all things for her to have seen. Although it could have been worse. “No wonder you ran off in such a panic.”
“Is that just a typical day in the life of an angel?” Claire’s hands clenched as her eyes challenged him. “You go around smiting people?”
Alec’s blush deepened. He shook his head. She deserved an honest answer—although he wasn’t ready to go into all the details of that just yet. “There are multiple classes of Grigori,” he admitted, “Elders, Guardians, and Watchers, to name a few. I’m one of the latter.”
“A Watcher?”
“Aye. We’ve all become so severely outnumbered by Earth’s exploding population that it’s difficult to do our jobs, but we still try. Watchers rarely kill anymore, and only with good reason.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
“And as I said before,” he added, “we don’t really think of ourselves as angels.”
“Why not? Grigori are angels, aren’t they?”
“We don’t really know what we are. We’ve been living a certain way, entertaining certain beliefs, and following a certain set of rules for thousands of years, all completely on faith—similar to the followers of most human religions, if you think about it. We just do what our Elders tell us to do—but not even they know the truth of our history.”
“Tell me what you do know.”
“Okay.” Alec led the way up onto a white wooden bridge arching gracefully over the canal and paused halfway across, leaning on the rail. “We know that we’re born of other Grigori and raised on Earth.”
“So you’re not from heaven?”
“No. There’s a theory that we originated in heaven—wherever and whatever that is. But as far back as any of us can remember, we’ve been earthbound. We live among humans and age at the same rate they do for the first thirteen years or so, until we reach puberty. After that, we age much more slowly, about one year for every twenty human years.”
“So that’s why you didn’t look that different in the vision I had. How old are you?”
Alec hesitated. “By human standards I’m about eighteen years old, even though I can pass for sixteen.”
“No, how old are you really?”
“A hundred and thirteen, more or less.”
She gaped at him. “Well, you look really good for your age.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”
Their eyes caught then and they both laughed, which seemed to release some of her built-up tension. A quiet moment passed as they leaned on the wooden rail, staring down at the dark, still water below. Then she glanced at him again and said, “I’m sorry about yesterday, when I … freaked. I caught you pretty good with that door.”
“It’s okay. I understand why you were scared.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Your forehead was bleeding—I saw the gash. But now there’s not even a mark.”
“We heal a lot faster than humans.”
“Are you immortal?”
“No. We can be killed. And we do die eventually.”
“Do you all have the same powers?”
“Not at all. Our gifts are very diverse, and passed on from generation to generation, in the same way that humans pass on blue eyes or red hair. For example, you inherited a mental power that is very different from mine.”
“Oh.” She looked at him. “You’re telekinetic, right?”
“Yes. From my father.”
“But that’s not your only power? You can move really fast?”
He nodded. “I also have my mother’s strength and speed.”
“I knew it!” She grinned. “I knew I didn’t hallucinate about the scaffolding.”
“Most Nephilim have a hard time understanding and accepting the Big Picture, or where their particular, extraordinary abilities come from. But you seem to have it all figured out already.”
“Well, I had all night to read up on it and think about it.”
“But how did you know to search for the word Grigori?”
She shrugged with a sigh. “Would you believe an old lady told me?”
As they crossed the bridge and ambled down the narrow sidewalk lining the other side of the canal, Claire launched into a vivid description of the series of psychic messages she’d been receiving. “The woman is beautiful, looks like she’s about sixty, and has a British accent,” Claire said as she concluded her story. “She claims to be a Grigori, and her name is Helena. Do you know who she is?”
“No. I’ve never met her.”
“Well, she definitely knows who you are, and that I’m a Nephilim.”
“Actually, Nephilim is plural. It’s Hebrew. The feminine singular is Nephila, masculine is Nephil.”
“Whatever.” Claire waved a hand impatiently. “Am I right that Nephilim are descendants of the Grigori—the result of your species interbreeding with humans thousands of years ago?”
“Yes. Every legend you’ve heard in the history of the world—not just about mythical heroes and gods, but monsters like the Sasquatch, wizards, werewolves, prophets, or demons—pretty much all of them are based on encounters with Nephilim. Most look like humans, but are more gifted.”
“Do all Nephilim have powers?”
“No. For those who do, their inherited talents become more and more diluted with each ensuing generation, and the powers don’t manifest until puberty, when the individual Awakens.”
Claire’s eyes widened now as if she was struck by a sudden realization. “Puberty,” she whispered, her cheeks turning crimson. “Oh! So that’s why…”
Alec could guess what she was thinking—it was common enough—and he felt bad that she was embarrassed. An awkward silence descended. He was relieved when Claire finally spoke.
“Is that why I’m able to sing so well now?”
“All of us can sing.”
“Choir of angels, huh?”
He shot her a displeased look.
“Sorry. I’ll stop using the A-word.” Claire shook her head as if in wonder. “So what exactly do the Grigori do?”
“In general, we keep to ourselves, hiding our abilities, and silently watch over the Nephilim. If and when they use their powers to the detriment of others, we’re obliged to step in and instill in them a sense of responsibility.”
“What happens if they aren’t responsible?”
Alec lowered his eyes briefly. “We call them the Fallen. That’s the group that lower-level Watchers have to police, and the Elites—like I was—are sometimes obliged to eliminate.”
“Eliminate,” she repeated slowly. “That’s what I saw you do … in France?”
He nodded.
“So … the Grigori’s job is to police the hybrid descendants of their forefathers?”
“Basically. We’re not allowed to meddle in human affairs unless they are threatened or compromised by the actions of the Fallen.”
A thought seemed to occur to her. “That Goth group at the mall … the people you insisted I stay away from … are they Fallen?”
“Aye.”
Claire frowned. “But they’re rare, right? Not all Nephilim are evil?”
“Most awakened Nephilim use their gifts in nondestructive ways. In fact, some of the most brilliant, productive, and influential ‘human beings’ in history were Nephilim.”
“Huh. So … was Leonardo da Vinci a… Nephil?”
“Aye. Mozart and Shakespeare, too.”
“Benjamin Franklin?”
“I believe so.”
“Einstein and Elvis?”
“Absolutely.”
“Michael Jordan?”
“Nah, he was that good on his own.”
Claire laughed. “Good to know there are still some of us who are just naturally talented.”
“Actually—I hate to remind you, Claire—you’re not one of them. You’re not a human being.”
“Right, right. But I’m mostly human, aren’t I? I mean, come on, I’ve got, what, like a couple of drops of Grigori blood in me? And by the way, since you seem to know all about it—which side of the family did I get this from? My mom or my dad?”
Alec looked at her, startled. Clearly, Claire wasn’t aware of her true nature after all. “When Helena spoke to you, didn’t she tell you what you are?”
“Yeah. She said, ‘You are one of the Nephilim.’”
“Aye, but you’re not a typical one.” Alec frowned, wondering how he should break the news. He didn’t want to frighten her—but he couldn’t hide the truth, either. They rounded a corner and headed down the adjoining lane, past the tightly packed, magnificent houses bordering the canal. “Claire, where were you born?”
“New York.”
“I thought so.” Alec shoved his hands in his jeans pockets as they walked. “Seventeen years ago, a Grigori conceived a child with a human mother in New York, and then disappeared. I think that was your father.”
Claire blinked. “My father is … a Grigori?”
“He is. Which makes you a Halfblood.”
Claire stopped in her tracks, staring at him, speechless.
“We were fairly certain to begin with,” Alec went on, “but now I’ve seen your aura—Grigori have golden auras, Nephilim’s are blue—and yours is green. There’s no question, Claire.”
Her hand went to her mouth, and she drew in a long breath, clearly thunderstruck. “I’m half angel?” she whispered.
“Aye.”
“Oh my God.”
“I’m sorry—all this time we’ve been talking, I thought you knew. You seemed to know everything else ….”
“So you know my father?” Claire asked, suddenly eager.
From her tone, it was clear she had no clue how serious her situation was, or the deadly consequences that might lie in store. Alec’s heart wrenched, knowing that he was going to have to shatter her world.
“No, but I know of him,” Alec replied slowly. “I don’t know all the details, but a colleague of mine has been searching for him, the mother, and,” he went on, glancing at her, “their Halfblood child all these years.”
“Why has he been searching for us? Why did my dad disappear? Did he do something wrong?”
“Aye.”
“What did he do?”
Alec paused, a flurry of sadness and frustration welling up within him. If only he could put off the answer to that question, or at least find some way to soften it. “He conceived you,” Alec answered quietly.
“Why was that a crime?”
“Because, since the proliferation of the Nephilim began, it’s been prohibited for Grigori to associate with human beings or Nephilim—let alone procreate with them.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You’re saying my birth was … illegal? That my entire existence is …”
“Forbidden,” he responded, his chest constricting at the look of pain on her face. Gently, he added, “As far as we know, Claire, there hasn’t been a true Halfblood for over a thousand years.”
“A thousand years?” Claire backed away, clasping and unclasping her hands, which were now visibly shaking. She stopped at the side of the canal, where she stood for a long moment, staring at a moored rowboat where a trio of white herons were roosting. “So that’s why my father disappeared,” she whispered hoarsely. “He had to hide.”
“Aye.”
A sudden thought seemed to occur to her. She whirled and stared at him, her eyes glistening with sudden tears. “You said it’s forbidden for Grigori to associate with human beings or Nephilim?”
He nodded grimly.
“So then … is it against the law for you and me to…?”
Alec’s teeth clenched. “Aye. Technically, any relationship between us is against Grigori law. If the Elders discover us—which I hope they never will.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “What about me and my mom? You said they were searching for us.” Her eyes flickered with fear. “Helena said my life is in danger. Does that mean the Grigori plan to … get rid of me? Or get rid of both of us?”
“I don’t know.” Alec heaved a bitter sigh. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to spring this grim fact on her yet, but he couldn’t lie to her either. “The truth is, the last time there was an offspring of this nature, there was a lengthy and convoluted trial. The Elders saw the Halfblood as a great risk, and the parents as the perpetrators of that risk. The Grigori mother, human father, and Nephila child were all executed.”
“Oh my God.” Claire turned away, brushing away another tear. Her hands were shaking.
“But that was such a long time ago,” Alec continued quickly. “I believe the Council would be more open-minded today.”
Claire’s knees seemed to give way. She sank down onto a low brick wall edging a garden, crying openly now. It cut him to the quick. Damn this touch thing, Alec thought. He sat down on the wall beside her and took her in his arms, pressing her tightly against him, desperate to reassure her. “If the Grigori or anyone else mean you or your mother harm, I’ll watch over you,” he vowed solemnly against her ear. “I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, Claire.”
She pulled out of his embrace to look up at him, wiping tears from her eyes. “Why would they see me as a risk? Why was my birth such a sin?”
Alec ran his fingers through his hair, resisting another strong impulse to take her hand in his. “You’re as close to a Grigori as a Nephila can get, Claire. You have the potential to be more powerful than any Nephilim on the planet.”
“All I do is get visions,” she protested.
“Visions of the past and future. A future you’ve proven you can change. It’s a mighty gift. Not to mention that you’ve just Awakened. Your gifts will grow in strength as you age, and you may even develop other abilities.”
“What other abilities?”
“Your father would have had a second talent, but I don’t actually know what it was. Any new abilities you’ve inherited will reveal themselves in time. But a true seer is very rare. In the wrong hands, a person with great mental powers could bring a nation to its knees.”
“The wrong hands? Like who? What are they worried about? That I’ll become a spy?”
“I realize this is a lot to take in all at once,” Alec said patiently. “Suffice it to say that, without any ties to bind you to the Grigori, they’ll see you as a loose cannon. My guess is they’ll want to keep you—and possibly your mother—someplace where they can monitor you closely.”
“Keep me?” Another tear ran down her cheek. “You mean imprison me.”
“If they find you.”
“What do you mean? You have found me. Wasn’t that your job? Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“No. I’ve just been standing in for the Grigori Watcher assigned to find you. His name is Vincent. He was called out of town for a while, and asked me to keep an eye out at Emerson. When he returns later this week, I’ll tell him about you—without giving away your name. And I’ll assure him that you pose no threat.”
Claire looked at him with half fear, half hope. “And he’ll believe you? He’ll take me off the wanted list? My mom and I will be safe?”
“Vincent is my godfather and my mentor,” Alec answered resolutely. “He taught me everything I know. I’d trust him with my life.”
Alec hoped he could trust Vincent with her life as well.