“Huh?” I asked, confused.
“Back before I became a Duke, there were legends of a supposed prophecy of a Nephilim destroying the demons, but nobody believed it. They all thought it was made up by angels to psyche us out. Duke Rahab’s always hated the Neph and refused to have any of his own. I think it’s ’cause rumors of that prophecy left a bad taste in his mouth.” He stood there, shaking his head as if he were still trying to process it all.
“Why don’t I get us something to drink?” Patti said, standing. She tried to pass my dad, but he reached out and grabbed her up in a bear hug, laughing and spinning her around. Patti let out a surprised laugh and then slapped at his shoulder until he let her down. She shook her head and grinned all the way to the kitchen, a blast of orange and yellow swirling through her aura.
He beamed at me, and what could I do but smile back? The man-demon was joyous.
The three of us sat at the table with our glasses.
“Okay. What are we going to do?” I asked Dad. “How do I make this happen?”
I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he went into business mode. He spoke in quick bursts as thoughts came to him.
“Sister Ruth was right. You’ll need allies. We’ll need to build an army of Neph willing to help when the time comes. Not all the Neph can be trusted. I’ll have to research them. It could take a while. We’ll have to be patient and careful in the meantime. The Dukes are a suspicious group and we’ll never be fully off the hook with them after that summit. I can’t touch the Sword of Righteousness, but I can show you some basic sword skills and get you in some classes. You’ve got that leg holster we made for the hilt, so you’ll need to keep it on you at all times. We’ll get you a passport right away. You’ll need a partner who can travel with you to recruit the other Neph. I can talk to that son of Alocer and see if he’s willing. The two of you can go on long weekends and school breaks. Maybe even—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dad.” My brain flipped out when he said “army” and then short-circuited at the mention of “sword skills.” I wasn’t some “Giant of Old” like the Bible called Nephilim.
“What?” he asked. “You don’t want to work with Alocer’s kid? I thought you liked him.”
“I do. Kope’s great. And he’s the only one whose father isn’t keeping dibs on him. I get that. But as far as the prophecy . . . what if . . . I don’t know. This thing is so huge. How do we even know it’s about me? It just says ‘A Nephilim pure of heart,’ so there could be others. What if I . . .” Can’t do it.
When I looked into Dad’s eyes, I found a rock-solid faith there. He pointed at me. “You can do it. And you will. Don’t doubt yourself, ’cause if the Maker wants to use you, you gotta be all in.”
I swallowed hard. “But . . . I’ve been working,” I said in a small voice.
Next to him Patti’s eyes spilled over.
It was my deep-down terrible fear—that one day I’d touch the Sword of Righteousness and it would no longer zap me. I hadn’t touched it since before the summit.
“No, baby,” Dad assured me. “Your heart is pure.”
“But how do you know?” I whispered.
Dad shook his head. “Tell me how you feel about the people around you when you have to work.”
“I . . .” I glanced at Patti, who gave me a small nod. “At first I always get a little, I don’t know, thrill or something, when I can get them to drink. Like a rush of power. But then it fades, and I feel sorry for them. I worry about them and I feel guilty. I hate it.” The last part came out barely a whisper.
“That’s how I know your heart is pure, Anna,” he said. “Through it all, you choose to love them. You could have come to loathe humans like many of the Neph do, or to feel indifferent toward them as a way to make it easier on yourself, but that’s not you.”
I chewed my lip and stared down at the table. So many elements of this puzzle were unknown, but I hoped he was right.
“Go get the hilt,” Dad ordered.
I looked up at him, a sharp pang of fear ripping through me.
“Go get it,” he said more softly this time. I went to my room and took the leather-clad hilt from my purse on the dresser. Then I walked back to the table and lay the hilt in the middle, sitting in my chair. Dad pushed back a little, taking his hands off the table and leaning away from it. A flash of fear crossed his face and was gone just as quickly.
“Sorry,” I said, pulling the hilt closer to me.
He cleared his throat. “Go ahead and open it. Just, uh, don’t point it at me.” He looked a little sheepish saying that. “Even though I’m sure it’ll know I’m not a threat. It’s just that a single slash from an angel’s sword is what sent me to hell in the first place, so, yeah.” He cleared his throat again.