

Transformation

Book 1

A Nephilim Novel Series

by

R. Laurin
Foreword

This book is dedicated to my family.

Thank you for being the light that led me through very dark times.

To R- thanks for being you- you're wild, stubborn, and brilliant. I love that about you.

To C Jr.- thanks for all the laughs; your incredible theories about everything.

To my husband- thanks for being by my side, and helping me to format my novel.

A huge shout out to all of my writer friends and Beta Readers; who provided incredible feedback.

The best for last! Thank you to God.

It was you that got me through everything. You helped me to be able to write this. You gave me words when my brain failed me.

To all those battling AE:

let's crush this dark nemesis together.

Copyright @ Dec. 20, 2018 Rebecca Magliozzi

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9781792056314

Imprint: Independently published

### "This is a work of fiction.

### Names, characters, places, and incidents are

### the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

### Any resemblance to actual events, l

locales, or persons, living, dead or undead,

is entirely coincidental."

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Missing in Action

The Seattle Tacoma Airport was complete chaos that Friday evening I arrived to pick up my husband James. Tourists and families hurried by, golf carts filled with luggage and other items drove past, and every so often an announcement came on through the overhead speaker system, drowning out everything else. I bit the inside of my cheek as the Singapore Airlines clerk checked through her computer for my husband's name. My four year old son Rodger pulled relentlessly on my hand, saying my name again for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"What?!" I finally snapped, looking down at him.

"I have to go," he whined, crossing his legs dramatically and wiggling with the pure discomfort of a recently potty trained preschooler, "Now!"

"I'll be right back," I promised the clerk, and she flashed me a patient smile as I hurried off to the women's restroom with Rodger in tow.

I broke down and began to cry silently in front of the bathroom mirror while my son was in the stall, singing to himself. We had arrived that evening to pick up my husband, who owned an IT Security company and had been working abroad for over a month. James designed highly impenetrable data security systems in demand by billion dollar companies and governments worldwide. He frequently traveled abroad for long periods of time. This trip, however, was different. We'd had a fight, obviously the first one (we'd been married since I was pregnant with our teenage twins), but quite a vicious one at that. James had forgotten all about my birthday, which hurt. We both said hurtful things to one another. Yet the next morning I got a text from him apologizing. But after that, James went completely silent.

For nearly two weeks, I hadn't been able to reach my husband. My calls went straight into voicemail, my texts went unanswered, and my last email bounced back. I'd made several frantic calls to the American Embassy, knowing well about James's notoriety in the hacking world. He often bragged about being every hacker's worst nightmare, though he was so cocky I never knew when to take him seriously.

"Mommy, where's Daddy's plane?" Rodger asked from across the bathroom, "Do you know what kind of jet it is?"

I covered my mouth to conceal my sobs, unable to answer. Rodger came out and washed his hands, singing a preschool song. He danced around while drying his hands with the automatic blow dryer on the wall, shimmying from side to side. It had to be true, the talk of children's resiliency, their complete cluelessness. Rodger had no idea what was really happening- he talked about all the different jets he saw as we drove into the airport, their colors and sizes. We headed back to the check-in desk, where the clerk was waiting for us, Rodger raced off for the row of seats just a few feet away, where his toys still sat.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Heinz," she said in a thickly accented voice "Your husband did not board his flight."

"Could there be some sort of mistake?" I asked, wiping at the tears that were flowing down my cheeks again, "Could he have purchased a different ticket, maybe for a different day? I mean, people don't just disappear like that!"

She winced slightly as my voice rose. For the next half hour, the clerk checked all the incoming flights for that week. Several times, I noticed a man across the airport watching us. He had on a dark hooded sweatshirt and slacks that barely concealed his tremendously strong build. I couldn't make out his face very well, as his sweatshirt hood was pulled low over the top of his head. He was watching me first, then Rodger playing with his toys, climbing under and around the airport lobby chairs with his army men.  
I crossed my arms and scowled at him. That's creepy, I thought, keeping a closer eye my son until he left. Seattle was full of strange people; drug addicts, wanderers, and really eclectic folks.

Finally, the clerk called me over, looking about as weary as I felt. She couldn't locate a different incoming flight with my husband's name on it. Just like that, my husband of fourteen years had disappeared. I collapsing onto one of the blue plastic chairs nearby, sobbing heavily again. A supervisor came over and gave me her card, promising to call if they came across his name on any flight in the next two weeks. After spending over three hours in the airport, Rodger and I headed back to my car.

"Stop crying, Mommy," he pleaded as I strapped him into his booster seat, tears still rolling down my cheeks. I didn't want to tell him what was happening, so I simply nodded and closed the door. I pulled out a cigarette and lit up, taking several deep drags to calm myself down as I leaned against my white Suburban. I hadn't smoked since college- I'd found the cigarettes hidden deep in James's desk drawer last week, along with a bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey. The nicotine slowly calmed me, easing my frazzled nerves. Another storm had started up, and the heavy sound of rain outside the parking structure soothed me slightly.

Where the hell are you, James? I wondered as I tossed away the cigarette butt and climbed into the car. Rodger was already asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I wondered briefly if James was having an affair. It seemed the best possible explanation, other than him being kidnapped.

Five minutes later, I exited the airport parking lot to turn onto a major street that would lead back towards the freeway. It was raining pretty hard by now. I stepped on the gas, trying to make it quickly through the intersection to turn left. Just as my car crossed through the intersection, a big rig truck came barreling over from the opposite direction, running the red light. I tried to swerve my car and slammed on the brakes, just as the truck driver did. The truck swerved towards me, and started toppling over. Everything happened so fast after that. It was like a giant whirlwind.

My cell phone kept ringing over and over again. I woke up to darkness. I tried to move, but everything hurt. A thick sheet of metal was smashed up against my car's front windshield, and only the tiniest bits of light streamed in. The truck had flipped sideways and landed against the front of my car, smashing much of the front end flat, shattering the windshield and sending glass everywhere. I wheezed heavily, painfully. Fluid bubbled from my mouth, tinged with blood. My chest hurt badly, and I looked down to see a long piece of metal piercing me below my collarbone, down inside my chest. The sharp end must have broken off the windshield frame during the crash. I was dying, I realized. I could feel the energy slowly draining out of my body. I tried to turn and look for Rodger in the back, but I was in too much pain to move. I realized I wouldn't be able to say good-bye to my other two children, Matthew and Sarah, or even James. With my lungs drowning in blood, I couldn't even cry out for help. I offered up a simple, very brief prayer, and prepared to die.

A person appeared out of nowhere. A hand punched through the metal in front of my windshield, and a person tore his way right through, the metal bending back from his frame as if melting away. He was the most beautiful being I had ever seen, with a handsome face and smooth bald white head, and flawless, milky white skin. The irises in his eyes were an electric blue color. He reached forward and touched my mouth, and the blood stopped bubbling out. Then the creature reached down and pulled the metal beam came out of my body. There was no pain, only a hot sensation as his hand touched the wound, completely healing it. Within seconds, my whole body began to tingle with warm circulation. I gasped, taking one deep breath after another, the blood gone from my lungs, fully alive. Steam was rising off of him and I could feel how hot his skin was, like being too close to a fire.

"Are you all right?" he finally asked me, using his voice for the first time. "Can you move?"

I just stared at him and nodded. From where I sat, the mangled car frame blocked much of my view, but I could see that he was mostly unclothed. Every square inch of his body was magnificently strong, covered in muscl. As he lowered his arms, I saw the long, white feathers hanging down. He turned away from me and wrapped his heavy wings around him. The creature began to push back the truck that was pinned up against the edge of my vehicle, stopping once it was a few feet away from me.

"Rodger, my son. He's in the back," I gasped, remembering my youngest child in the back seat. I turned around to look, and all I saw was the back edge of his booster seat.

"Rodger!" I began to scream, but with the front of my car mangled so badly, I couldn't climb back to get him. There was broken glass everywhere, metal and plastic protruding down from the broken ceiling and the front passenger seat was broken and smashed through the windshield and dash.

The being easily ripped the back door off and tore apart the car's frame until he could reach Rodger and pulled him out, still sitting in his booster seat. My son was motionless, chin on his chest. The being put a hand over Rodger's heart, lifted his small face in his hands, and stared at him for a moment.

"He's sleeping," he finally declared, grinning, "I can hear him snoring. He should be fine."

"Who are you?" I finally asked, staring at him in amazement. Goosebumps rose on my arms.

"I think you already know what I am."

He raised his head up to the sky, pausing briefly. Maybe I was hallucinating, but I could have sworn I saw light shining down, all around him. He launched off, flying straight up into the night sky, disappearing into the clouds.

"Hey, are you OK?" a voice called out. An older man and a woman stood next to the wreck, staring at me through the driver's side window. It was as though I had been dreaming all this time. Was it real? I found myself wondering. The woman bent down and shook Rodger awake. He stood up and looked around, confused.

"I think so. Can you help me out of here?" I asked.

The man stepped forward to grab the door handle next to me, but his wife grabbed his arm. "Maybe we should wait for the ambulance before we move her," she advised.

"I'm fine, really. Please, just get me out of here," I begged, and the man pulled the wrecked door until it fell off the hinges and then helped me out of the car. I instantly pulled Rodger into my arms, kissing him and checking him all over to make sure he was unharmed. He didn't have a scratch on him. When he pulled away, I noticed his white long sleeve t-shirt was stained with blood. It was my own. My blue cashmere sweater was ripped along the top right side where the metal had impaled me, and was soaked a heavy, thick red.

"My God, sit down and wait for the ambulance," the man insisted, taking off his jacket and handing it to me, "Where are you bleeding from? What's your name?"

"Lauren. My name's Lauren Heinz," I replied as I awkwardly patted myself from head to toe but found nothing but wet skin and clothes. Even my scalp wasn't bleeding. "I don't know where I'm hurt," I finally declared, "And my son's okay too."

"There was a guy here. Did you see him?" I continued, looking around "I was trapped inside, and he helped me. He pulled Rodger out."

The man and woman looked at each other and shook their heads. "We've been standing on the sidewalk this whole time, by the cross walk" the woman replied slowly, "We watched your car get halfway buried under that truck when it flipped over. Somehow it just slid right off, all by itself. Maybe I'm getting old and imagining things. My God, you're lucky to be alive."

The fire trucks and ambulances arrived, and it was nothing but chaos from that point on. The truck had crushed not one but two cars when it flipped over. I was lucky only the front end of my car had been pinned down by the truck. The other car was heavily damaged by the truck's tanker, and the rescue workers struggled to cut it open with the Jaws of Life. A fireman realized gasoline was leaking from the truck, and began yelling for everyone to get out of there. I looked down at Rodger and wondered how we were going to get home.

Almost an hour later, my coworker Mason pulled up in his bright red Corvette. Mason and I worked together at the Orange Group, an advertising and creative firm located in downtown Seattle. We had worked together for almost three years in Client Services, where he was a Senior Sales Executive, and I was a Junior Sales Admin (basically his administrative assistant with a glorified title). Although he was technically my boss, Mason was more like a good friend to me. He gave me sales advice, celebrated our new client wins, and sometimes we talked for hours about work and life.

"My God, what happened to you guys?" Mason asked as Rodger and I approached his vehicle, looking shell shocked. He got out and I pointed at my mangled white Suburban, then the big rig truck that was still flipped upside down.

"That's your car?!" Mason exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers, "How the world are both of you even alive?" He covered his mouth with his hand, looking back and forth between me and the car, which a tow truck worker was prepping to haul away.

A cop with salt and pepper colored hair came over and handed me a copy of the accident report.

"You sure you and your boy are okay?", he asked, gazing at Rodger, who was shivering.

"The paramedics said we could go home," I repeated, feeling shell-shocked.

"Exactly how are you getting home?", the cop wondered., gazing at my wrecked car being tied down on the tow truck. Mason came walking over with a blanket he must have gotten from the firefighters still on the scene and handed it to me.

"For Rodger," he said to me, then looked at the cop, "I'll take them home now."

Rodger loved the ride home in Mason's red Corvette that night. He was feeling better, and squealed with delight each time Mason sped up, making the engine roar.

"Faster!" he shouted, laughing with abandon when Mason complied, even pulling the car into park so he could safely gun the engine for Roger's approval several times. It was starting to rain again when we finally reached our house. Back to my difficult and lonely life, I thought grimly and then pushed the thought away. I wasn't going to think of my totaled Suburban, the upcoming mess with the insurance company, or even about my absentee husband, I decided. I had made a firm decision not to tell Mason about James not showing up at the airport, because I didn't want to start crying in front of him.

"Thanks for coming to pick us up. My best friend wasn't answering her phone, and my twins don't drive yet." I said, turning to look at Mason.

"Who were you picking up?" Mason asked suddenly, "I didn't see anybody else there with you."

"My dad forgot to get on his plane," Rodger blurted out suddenly and let out a loud belch. Mason looked at him in the rear view mirror, raised his eyebrows and exclaimed, "Whoa, dude. Did you swallow a frog or what?"

The boy burst into laughter and I looked away for a moment, fighting back tears.

"I had the day and time mixed up on my calendar," I lied, fumbling with the buckle on my seat belt and bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. It took everything in my power to hide my tears. When I looked up, Mason was staring at me.

"What?" I said, getting a funny feeling inside.

"You have a shard of glass in your hair," he said reaching over and pulling out a tiny chunk of shiny glass from my hairline, staring at it in his open palm, "Are you sure you guys are OK, Lauren? That wreck was really bad. Shouldn't you go to the hospital or something?"

"The paramedics checked us out. Rodger's fine. I feel okay. Just a little tired, is all."

"Faster! Faster!" Rodger shrieked suddenly from the back seat, slapping his hands on his knees.

"OK, Rodger, that's enough," I began mildly, but Mason put the car in park and gunned the engine again, just to make him happy. Once again, my son erupted into loud, joyful laughter, and soon we were all laughing

"Thanks for the ride," I finished, opening my door and helping Rodger out of the backseat of the car.

"Here," Mason said suddenly, handing me a business card, "My home number is on the back too. If you have an emergency or anything, call me."

"Even if I fall down the stairs at three in the morning?" I teased lightly.

"Yes," he said sternly, but I could tell he was holding back a smile.

I smiled and pocketed his card. I was nice to know at least someone else cared.

"I better let you get home," I insisted. "Don't worry about me. Really, I'll be fine. I'll go to bed and be good as new."

We stood outside my house watching Mason drive away, and I struggled to make sense of the whole night. Something or someone had saved my life. I had to find out if it was real or not.
Chapter 2

Transformation

Several nights later, I fell into such a heavy sleep that Sarah, my fourteen year old daughter, had to shake me awake in the morning. For a moment, I just stared at her, confused. My dreams had taken me too far off places that felt like another reality, though I couldn't recall what I had been dreaming about.

"Mom, wake up!" Sarah exclaimed, "It's Monday. You're supposed to drive us to school today!"

"What about the bus?" I muttered, rolling over in bed and closing my eyes. Thank God for that worn, reliable yellow school bus. It always showed up on time, giving me an extra 30 minutes in the mornings to enjoy breakfast with Rodger, or clean up the house.

"The bus drivers are on strike right now. You have to get up or I'll be late for school. I have a test in first period today", Sarah pleaded. She paused for a moment and then stared at me, "You're sweating. Do you have a fever?" She pressed her hand against my forehead, "You're really hot. Are you sure you can drive us?"

"Make me some tea and get me an aspirin and we'll see" I muttered. My teenager dashed off, her feet pounding loudly as she raced downstairs. I stumbled into the bathroom and washed my face. My entire body was starting to ache, including the middle of my back. Could whiplash syndrome hit me days later? I had been tired after the accident, but had chalked that up to shock.

I stumbled downstairs and Sarah helped me wake up and dress Rodger, despite his insistence on clinging to his bed and stuffed bear. The three kids and I pulled up at the middle school just as the warning bell rang. Sarah hurried off with a panicked look. She was, like her father, a perfectionist with obsessive tendencies. Matthew, her twin, yawned as he slammed the car door shut followed her at a slower pace. A sharp pain started up in the middle of my back, and I almost gasped. I held my hand to my chest, wondering what it could be. A heart attack? Gallstones? I was relatively healthy and in my mid-thirties, so that didn't seem likely. Rodger, oblivious to my plight, whined that he was hungry. I handed him a cereal bar and turned on his cowboy songs CD. How I dropped him off at preschool without my son or his teacher noticing my intense pain, I'll never know. By the time I pulled back in front of my house, I was crying, and I couldn't locate my cell phone. Then I accidentally dropped my keys between my seat and the center console of my car. I was in too much pain to grab them. I staggered to the gate at the side of my house hoping I could get in through the back door or a window I could call for help. I made it to the grassy area of my backyard before the pain brought me to my knees. Something was tearing inside my back, and literally felt like it was pushing to the surface. I was hot, sweating, and a wave of fresh pain hit me so quickly that I screamed out loud.

"Somebody help me!" I cried out before another wall of pain hit. I threw up on the grass, and then tried to crawl towards the house, the wet grass soaking my clothing. Seconds later another horrific attack of spasms wracked my body. "God help me," I muttered before passing out.

I woke up lying on my back, facing the sky. The early morning Seattle rain left the sky a tremendous blue color, littered with large white cumulus clouds. The sun broke through some of them, causing light to stream down from the sky in magnificent rays. Was I going to heaven? I wondered briefly, or was I still alive? A man's handsome face appeared over me, looking down curiously. I yelped in surprise, and he leaped back a few feet, out of my reach.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, as I sat up, wincing at the pain reappearing in my back.

"Are you still in pain?" he asked. He kept moving nervously from one foot to the other, watching me. He was bald, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of worn pants. His frame was muscular and long, white wings cascaded down behind him. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through me.

"It's you!" I exclaimed suddenly, "You were there at the car crash I was in. You saved me!"

He nodded, his eyes still almost glowing.

As I stood up, a pain seared through my back, making me double forward at the waist.

"Here, let me help you," he offered, as he came over and gently grabbed my arm. His touch was cold, like steel during the winter. He hadn't even bothered to answer my first question either, and that unnerved me.

"Get away from me!" I snapped, backing out of his reach, "What's happened to me, and why are you here?"

The being smiled gently, "It's okay," he said softly, "I know you must be frightened. You're in a lot of pain. He sent me here to help you." He paused, before adding, "Change can be scary."

"Change?" I demanded, "What are you talking about?"

He stepped towards me, and I instinctively backed up. The trauma of the car crash, James's sudden disappearance, and now this crazy scenario all felt like I was in twilight zone. I kept backing up as he kept moving forward, until I bumped into the side of the house. My foot bumped into a gardening trough I had left out earlier that week while planting some new flowers. In sheer desperation, I picked it up and held it up like a dagger.

"Get back!" I warned, "I don't want to hurt you!"

When he grabbed for me I brought the sharp end of the trough down like the blade of a knife, straight onto his shoulder, but it just bounced right off of his frame. He grabbed the object and tossed it aside, then spun me around, poking at the sore area between my shoulder blades. I screamed, terrified he would assault me or worse. He quickly shoved a hand over my mouth.

"Relax," he breathed in my ear, "I'm not going to hurt you. It's your wings. They're caught inside your back. That's why you're in so much pain."

My wings? I thought, feeling confused.

He ripped open the back of my shirt, and began probing my back, which really hurt. I tried to yell again but his other hand was still over my mouth. He was strong, and I was terrified. I felt and heard a loud pop, and the front of my shirt and my bra ripped right off. There was barely enough time for me to cover my chest with my hands..

"There," he said, stepping back, "All better now."

My shoulders were heavy, and a warm wetness cascade down my side. I wiped at it, saw the blood on my hands. My feet, legs and the ground beneath me were covered with splatters of blood, and tiny, white feathers.

"I'm bleeding. What have you done to me?", I demanded as I turned to face him.

"I didn't do anything," the being replied, "You've transformed. You're one of us now. This happened all on its own." He paused, seeing all the blood for the first time.

. "That's a lot of blood," he muttered, "I'll take care of it,"

The next thing I knew, he'd grabbed the garden hose and turned it on. Two weeks ago I had splurged on a high powered nozzle for the hose, hoping to cut my watering time in half.

"No, no, stop!", I shrieked, racing for the back door at top speed, as the water hit me with the power of a small fire hose. All I could do was curl up in a ball and shout while the water pounded on my back. Nolan, my Labradoodle, came out of his doghouse and barked protectively. The being turned the hose on him, and he fled back into his dog house, whimpering.

It was quiet after he shut the hose off. "Look!", the being kept saying to me, "Look at yourself."

I noticed my reflection in the sliding glass back door, and could hardly believe it. I was taller and thinner than before. Light reflected off both sides of my body in waves. Beautiful white wings hung down behind my shoulders and arms, just like his. I raised my arms and dropped them down several times, extending my wings outward, then closing. A few white feathers floated up in the air, landing on my bare feet. I just stared at them, astonished.

"See?" he said proudly, his voice quivering, "It's absolutely beautiful." He stood behind me, and we both opened and closed our wings, flapping them up and down time, the sound reminding me of spinning helicopter blades. The angel threw his head back and laughed in pure joy. I realized again I was still topless, and covered myself.

"Can we go inside?", I asked, feeling cold and confused, "I'm so cold out here."

He was waiting in the kitchen when I finally found clothes that fit around my bulky, awkward wings. It happened to be a pair of sweatpants and my pink bikini top, but it sure beat going around half naked.

I started making a pot of coffee, desperate to get out of the dream like state I was in, to make sense of things. "So, what happened to me, exactly? Am I some kind of bird, like you?"

He leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his magnificent frame, watching me. "I'm not a bird, Lauren Heinz," he said in a deep voice, shaking his head, "Why are you so clueless?"

"How do you know my name?", I countered.

"I saved your life, didn't I? I know everything about you."

I dropped the glass coffee carafe, but he caught it, moving so fast that I never even saw him dart across the kitchen towards me.

"How did you-", I began.

"Sit down," he ordered, looking intensely at me, and I found myself automatically obeying him.

"You've had a huge shock these last few days. Try to relax," he continued, looking from the carafe to the coffeemaker, confused, frowning. He pressed at random buttons on the electric device, as if hoping coffee would magically appear in the carafe.

"How you humans use these things I'll never know," he muttered, and I got up and took the carafe from him, silently finishing up the task.

"Why do you humans all line up in that Starbucks store by your work every Friday? Just to buy a cup of that nasty, hot stuff?" he demanded suddenly.

"You know where I work?!" I demanded, as I hit the brew button, and turned to stare at him, "Have you been stalking me?"

"Stalking you? What does that even mean?"

I sighed, "Following me around. That's what it means."

"Why would I do that? What angel even has time for that?"

I poured the freshly made coffee into two mugs along with some flavored coffee creamer and milk, and handed one to him.

"Start talking," I growled, giving him a hard look, "I want to know everything. Now. Or I'll throw you out of this house. I'll call the police."

He chuckled, "Call whoever you want. I'm Nathaniel. Third Battalion Chief."

"What?!"

"I'm a warrior angel in God's army" he replied and sipped the coffee again, "This is pretty tasty. Okay, I see why you humans like this coffee stuff so much."

"Angels don't exist. It's just a thing the church made up, right?" I said quickly, and then instantly regretted it. The look he gave me was anything but friendly.

"We've always been around. Since the beginning of time," he retorted, "When did you stop believing in us?"

"I guess after my father died," I replied slowly, looking out the window as it started raining again, "About five years ago. James started traveling all the time for work. I was so busy and just.. overwhelmed. We stopped going to church. There just didn't seem to be much point to it anymore."

"Well, you're one of us now. Maybe you should change that."

"Why do I have these things on me?", I demanded, pulling at the heavy white wings hanging behind my shoulders.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you too much," He admitted, looking uncomfortable, "But you've been chosen. You're a Nephilim now; the first in a thousand years, actually."

"What? How did this happen? Why? I want the whole story. Now! ", I snarled.

He sighed and set down his coffee cup, looking past me at the light rain starting to fall outside.

"I wasn't supposed to save you," he finally admitted, "I wasn't even supposed to go anywhere near that car crash you had two days ago."

"You mean I was supposed to die?" I exclaimed, and he silently nodded.

"But why would God do that to me? I'm a single Mom now.. and I'm an honest person!"

Nathaniel just shook his head, "That's not always enough, Lauren. I don't know why your time was up, but it was. God is in control of all those things. I was walking by and I saw the car crash. I knew you were dying. I could hear all those scared thoughts in your head, and your son was right behind you, unconscious. I felt so sorry for you," his voice wavered, a lone teardrop that made its way down his cheek, "So I saved you. I healed Rodger too."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "I got called to the throne, for what I did. I broke some major laws by saving you. God said my actions undid the balance of things, so he put you under my watch. I'm responsible for you, and you're one of us now."

"Did you do this to me? Make me part angel" I demanded, pointing at my wings.

"It's all part of God's work. You're my protégé, and you'll train and work beneath me."

For a long time, we just stared at one another.

"This is a joke, right?", I finally asked in a hoarse, voice, "Because there's no way I can do any of that. Nathaniel, I have a family to take care of. I can't be training with you or whatever."

Outside, thunder boomed so loud I jumped in my seat. The kitchen lights flickered off and on. Nathaniel's expression was so dark it put me on edge. He brought his fist down on the kitchen counter hard, and it cracked.

"The way I see it, you don't really have any choice in the matter," he snapped, a dark look on his face, "You can try to ignore God's calling for you. That might work for a while, but then you'll have to face his punishment. Remember Jonah in the Bible? What happened to him when he refused to go to Ninevah?"

"He was swallowed by a whale," I muttered, sinking onto a chair behind the counter .

"What do you think will happen to you?", Nathaniel boomed, "Well?"

The angel looked massive. He was taller than my coworker Mason, who stood at over 6 foot tall.

"I-I don't know," I stammered, "But I guess it won't be good?"

Nathaniel seemed temporarily pleased by my answer, the tension leaving his face, and his voice became a forced calm.

"You can't ever reveal you are a Nephilim. Not to anyone. Imagine what would happen if people found out you're part angel now? You'd become some sort of spectacle. Do you understand?"

I nodded, not wanting to anger him further. Thunder boomed again. This time it felt like it was right in my backyard. It began to rain heavily outside. Nathaniel made me promise out loud not to tell anyone I was a Nephilim. He even made me hold my hand over a Bible he found on my bookshelf.

My mind was racing a million miles an hour, along with my heart, through all this. Would I pass out there in the kitchen in front of him?

"I still think this a mistake," I almost whispered.

"God doesn't make errors, Lauren. You of all people should know that. With time you'll come to accept this."

Nathaniel and I just stayed there in the kitchen for a long time, at one another for a long time. I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I don't remember much else.

I woke up hours later on the couch in the front room of our house. It was dark outside. In the next room voices were laughing and talking, silverware and dishes clanking. I got up and walked into the kitchen to find my three children seated at the table with Nathaniel. Matthew, who normally skips dinnertime, was handing his sister a plate of green beans. She smiled and thanked him. Rodger, usually the messiest eater of all, had a napkin tucked into his shirt collar, and was actually eating with a fork. Nathaniel sat at the head of the table in James's chair, dressed in a blue collared shirt and slacks—straight from my husband's closet. For a moment, I just stood there staring in disbelief. It was as if a space alien had abducted my family and replaced them all with clone images, which were programmed with good manners.

"So what project are you working on now in art?" Nathaniel asked Matthew.

"Well, I'm doing an abstract painting of myself, a Picasso type self-portrait," Matthew answered slowly. "It's been taking longer than I planned, but it's coming out well. I've been doing a couple rough sketches and revisions before I hit the canvas each day."

"Interesting," Nathaniel inquired, "Have you thought about how this all pertains to your future?"

"My future?" Matthew repeated, sounding surprised.

"Yes, a future career. Now is the time to start pursuing a trade and preparing yourself for the man you should be."

My jaw dropped open. I was certain Matthew would storm out of the room at his suggestions. Over the last year, he had become fiercely opposed to any suggestions I made, which meant he was pretty much your typical teenage boy. Instead, Matthew paused thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense," he admitted. "I've never really thought of it like that."

"Hi, Mom!" Rodger exclaimed, suddenly noticing me for the first time, "I ate all my green beans." He held up his empty plate for approval.

This sudden change in my kids, combined with the fact that Nathaniel was sitting there in James's chair, set me into complete fight or flight mode.

"That's great, Rodger!" I said, faking a quick smile, and then turned to Nathaniel. "I need to talk with you for a moment in the other room. Right.... now." The last two words came out slow and heavy, my teeth gritted in anger.

Nathaniel followed me silently into the living room. I waited until the kitchen door swung shut behind us before confronting him. "How did my kids get home from school?" I hissed.

"Matthew and Sarah took the bus, and I picked Rodger up from daycare," Nathaniel said coolly. "By the way, his teacher wants to have a conference with you soon. She's concerned with his behavior. It's way too aggressive lately. "

"Wait a minute," I said, holding up a hand. "You picked up my son, without my permission, and they just gave him to you? Didn't they ask you for an ID or anything?"

"Relax, Lauren," he said with a calm smile. "It was fine. I don't need permission. I'm an angel. Plus, your family is really quite charming- minus your husband, of course."

"This is not OK! You're here alone with my kids, cooking them dinner. They're polite. They talk and listen to you. Rodger's actually eating his vegetables. This is just too weird!" I continued. "What the hell is going on, Nathaniel?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I have the power of persuasion. It's one of our gifts. They think I'm your husband's cousin."

"So you lied to them, then?" I exclaimed. "Isn't that a sin?"

Nathaniel was silent for a moment, perhaps considering how he should answer, ". "It was the only logical explanation," he said, holding up his hands in innocence. "By the way," he finished. "You shouldn't say Hell. It's a very serious thing."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "By the way, you broke my kitchen countertop earlier today, so don't think I'm just going to smile and nod anymore" I retorted. "I'm not okay with this whole thing, not at all. First you made me get wings, which hurt like hell. Now you've started messing with my family. Get out! I'm done with this whole thing." I pointed straight at the front door. Nathaniel he had really gotten under my skin. I was never that straight forward with anyone, other than my kids.

Nathaniel walked over and opened the door, but paused and looked back at me halfway out. "I see you have finally have some fight inside of you. That'll serve you well as a Nephilim."

When I didn't respond, he continued, "I can see your family is starving for interaction. Your children are desperate for a positive role model. Think about it, Lauren. Maybe you can't do it all anymore."

I sighed, and sat down on the sofa, quite frustrated. "You have no idea how hard this is."

"Have you told James how you feel? How it's affecting the kids?"

"I would if I could reach him," I replied. "But he's completely disappeared. It's pretty obvious he's not coming back."

"Can't you just go back to where ever you came from? Go help some old lady trying to cross the street or something. Just leave," I begged.

Nathaniel was gone in a split second, the door closing behind him without effort, as if a gust of wind had blown it shut. Why hadn't I thought of asking him to leave earlier? I wondered, amazed at how quickly he'd fled. I searched for my wings self-consciously, and breathed a sigh of relief when I realized Nathaniel had tucked them into my back. My secret was safe for now.

That night, I got a call from an investigator at the American Embassy in Singapore.

"It's Agent Markhow, from the U.S. Embassy" a deep voice boomed, "Can you talk for a bit?"

"Sure," I hurried outside the front door, so my kids wouldn't overhear the conversation. It was freezing, but I wasn't ready yet to tell them the truth about James's disappearance.

"I tracked down Ming, your husband's assistant. She's young and pretty, with some tattoos on her forearm?"

Ming used to be our son Rodger's nanny when I started working. She'd had been studying information technology at night school, and jumped at the chance to work for James when his last assistant quit. Rodger had been old enough for preschool by that time, anyways.

"Yes. That's her," I muttered, "What did she say?"

"She hasn't seen him in about a week. She was staying in some cheap motel waiting for her parents to wire her money to fly home."

"What?! Then where the hell did James go?"

Agent Markhow sighed, "That's a good question. The night before he disappeared he went to dinner with Ming. She said he seemed tired, just really stressed out, but nothing out of the ordinary. He had a couple drinks with her and they went their separate ways. The next morning he never showed up for work, and he hasn't been answering his phone or email since then."

I frowned. Why would James be eating dinner alone and drinking with Ming? Why hadn't he called me instead of drowning his sorrows with his twenty-five year old secretary?

"I found your husband's hotel room," he said. "He was last staying near the capitol, at a Sheraton Resort."

"OK," I replied, feeling breathless. "So is he there?"

I felt I could barely breathe as Agent Markhow summarized everything they had discovered. James had been paying cash for his hotel stay, leaving behind his computer and just about everything else. There were no signs of a struggle or abduction in the hotel.  
"It's almost as if he just walked off and left everything," he finished with a sigh.

"That's not like James at all," I remarked. "He would never leave his computer behind."

"I've got an IT guy trying to hack the password so we can get in it. We're having a hell of a time. I've never seen a security system like this before on any device," he continued.. "I'll let you know if we find anything of importance. Just hang tight for now."

His voice sounded almost apologetic as he ended the call.

I leaned back against the side of the house just under the shelter of the front porch, sighing deeply. Another wave of despair was building up within me, and this time it took over. I sobbed heavily, crying until my stomach hurt and my eyes were sore. How could my own husband just walk out of our lives so easily? I searched the last few weeks and months in my mind, over and over, for even the slightest reason. James had seemed like himself before his disappearance, extremely busy, bossy, and obsessed with the project he was working on. Rain poured down and lightning illuminated the sky as darkness fell, revealing the beautiful, upscale Queen Anne neighborhood we lived in. I wondered how drastically our lives would change in the next few months without James. Finally, shivering and lonely, I shut my phone off and headed back inside for the night.
Chapter 3

Flights, Fight, and Fear

I woke up early the next morning feeling ravenously hungry, a good sign. As I cooked up breakfast, I wondered briefly if meeting Nathaniel and transforming into a Nephilim had actually happened. I peeked out the front window, convinced I would see my white, shiny Suburban still sitting in the driveway. James's worn Toyota Corolla was out there, red and dingy. Well, I thought as I set out breakfast, bacon, eggs and toast on four plates, maybe the crash was real, but the rest of yesterday wasn't. The whole concept of a Nephilim seemed ludicrous and impossible. Not to mention I was still completely confused by my James's disappearance.

"Mom, are you OK?" Sarah asked, staring at me oddly while we ate.

"What?" I replied, still a bit dreamy.

"You're staring off into space, shaking your head," Sarah continued. "Are you sure you're feeling OK since the accident?

"Yeah, you're not yourself lately. Nathaniel said the crash was making you feel out of sorts," Matthew added.

"Oh, he did, did he?" I muttered darkly. "Nathaniel really should mind his own business."

Matthew flashed me a defiant look. "Have you even called Dad since the accident?" he demanded, "Does he know?"

"Of course," I lied, gulping a glass of orange juice. "But you know, sometimes he has problems with his phone and can't get my calls."

"Singapore has great reception. There's a cell phone store on every corner," Matthew argued, "His phone is disconnected. I tried calling him yesterday. Why won't you just tell us the truth?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. I didn't know what to say.

Sarah looked at me, her face full of conviction. "Maybe you should divorce him, Mom," she said. "It's not like he's ever home anyways."

Rodger looked over at us, mystified. "What's a divorce?" he asked.

"Just a fun game adults play, like Monopoly," I lied, and ordered for Sarah and Matthew to follow me into the hallway.

She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, looking defiant.

"You cannot go around talking like that in front of Rodger. He's four years old, for crying out loud. He doesn't need to worry about his parents getting divorced!"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "OK, whatever, Mom. But don't act like you haven't at least thought about it. Dad's taking advantage of you, and we all know it. It's not fair."

"Yeah, stop lying to us. We're not little kids anymore," Matthew added, crossing his arms and scowling at me.

I glanced out the window and saw the school bus pulling up to the stop. Perfect timing.

"The bus is here," was all I had to say, and Sarah began to hurry around the front room, gathering her school items in a frenzy.

"Let's go, loser!" she shouted at her twin brother, before racing down the front steps. "We'll miss the bus!"

Matthew seemed to move in slow motion as he grabbed his backpack and headed outside.

"Don't run too fast now," I teased as he descended lazily down the front steps. "Have a good day."

Matthew gave me an angry look and snarled something under his breath as I shut the front door. I sighed and leaned it, already dreading the AM traffic I was about to head off into.

Rodger's preschool teacher kept giving me dark glances as I dropped him off that morning. As I kissed him good-bye, I wondered if I forgot to bring snack on his assigned day or violated some other, pointless rule. Two other parents walked in, and I tried to slip out the door undetected. Unfortunately, the teacher was right behind me, tapping me on the shoulder as I headed into the hallway,

"I need to talk to you about Rodger," she said insistently.

"I only have a few minutes," I warned. "Or I'll be late for work."

The teacher sighed. "I don't know how to say this, but Rodger has had an increase in aggressive behavior in the last month. He's been bullying and hurting the other children."

"What, Rodger?" I exclaimed, completely shocked. My youngest son had always been a goofball and high energy, but to think of him bullying seemed almost impossible.

The teacher reached into Rodger's backpack and took out a stack of reports. "Here are just a few of the things that have been going on in the last couple weeks. I assume you've looked at these already?"

"No," I said, scanning a few of them. "Spitting at the teachers? Are you sure Rodger did that? He cussed?"

"Yes, Mrs. Heinz," the teacher continued. "We've also left several messages on your home phone. I'm assuming you didn't receive those?"

I cringed, remembering Nathaniel's warning the other day, which I had dismissed. Since my accident, I hadn't bothered to clean the house or check the phone messages. Now Rodger was filling up preschool delinquency reports without me even knowing.

"I'll have a talk with him," I promised, patting the stack between my hands.

The teacher shook her head uneasily at me. "Mrs. Heinz, the director said today is his last day. The behavior has gone on for far too long."

"But that's not fair. She should have made sure to talk with me about it first," I protested. She simply shrugged, apathetic. But deep in her brown eyes, I could sense something else going on. That's when I felt a warm glow cascading over my entire body. My wings quivered in my back and I squeezed my shoulder blades together, trying to prevent their release. A heavy energy and light encompassed both of us. The teacher's face froze, and she just stared at me as if I had handed her a million-dollar check. I started speaking, not sure where the words were coming from.

"Eniz," I said automatically, "God wants you to stop worrying so much. I know you are worried about your missing son in New Mexico. Tell your brother to look in the town of Las Cruces. He's there, alive and homeless, but he needs some help. God has been keeping him safe. It's time for you to go on with your life. There's so much more in store for you, if you can only believe it."

Eniz shook her head, tears rolling down her eyes. "Who are you? How do know these things?" she whispered, "I've been looking for my son for years now. I thought he might be dead."

I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder. "I'm just a messenger. God hasn't forgotten you, or your dreams," I finished. "Check your answering machine when you get home. You have a job offer waiting for you, the one you interviewed for three months ago."

Eniz threw her arms around me, crying. "Thank you," she whispered, over and over.

After a moment, I slowly pulled myself out of her grip, feeling awkward, and patted her shoulder with a smile. Eniz turned to go back into the classroom. I called her name, and when she looked over at me, her face was filled with hope. I knew then that she would do almost anything I asked of her, good or bad. It was a powerful, yet disturbing.

"Tell the director to give Rodger one more chance," I commanded with a wink.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I will tell her. Rodger will stay here. I'll make sure of it. Eniz disappeared into the classroom, and I collapsed against the wall with relief.

By the time I had returned to the car, the warm glow was completely gone and I was as tired as if I had run a few miles. I started the car engine and began to back out, when something heavy slammed in to rear end, shaking the frame wildly. I slammed on the brakes and yelped, afraid I had backed up over a small child. Nathaniel suddenly appeared in the front passenger seat, having fallen right through my open sunroof. The metal casing around the sun roof frame was completely torn off and hanging around his neck, which he grabbed and tossed out of the car's open top.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hollered, "Did you just rear end my car? What happened to the sun roof?"

He merely shifted the car into park and shook his head silently at me, in the way a parent does to a naughty child.

"What did I tell you about speaking like that?" he said in a condescending tone. "Hell is a terrible place. You shouldn't even mention it."

"Christ! I thought I told you to leave me alone," I rolling my eyes at him as I pulled a package of cigarettes out of my purse. I hunted desperately for a lighter. Nathaniel tapped the end of the cigarette that was dangling between my lips, and it lit up.

I took a deep puff and stared at him, amazed. "How'd you do that?"

He chuckled and replied. "Angel powers," in a magnetizing way. I realized suddenly that his gaze was almost hypnotizing me, and looked away self-consciously.

Nathaniel grabbed the cigarette packet and put one in his mouth. "So how do you do this smoking thing?" he asked.

"Inhale, hold in the smoke, exhale," I replied , and demonstrated how to blow smoke rings. Nathaniel watched me curiously and inhaled. He made a noise so powerful it rivaled a small storm, and the cigarette crumbled into tiny ashes, falling on his lap. He exhaled, blowing out a huge cloud of steam that filled the entire car, clouding up the windows. I laughed so hard I cried as I rolled down my window. Nathaniel just patted out the ashes on his lap and beamed like a child who had tried to wash the kitchen floor and flooded it instead. He just didn't know any better. The bad static between us was dismissed by then.

"This cigarette smoking isn't much fun," he admitted.

"You should try cigars," I said, "they last longer."

He watched as I ground out the last of my cigarette in the Toyota's old, scratched ashtray. "So, how did your first HALO feel?" he asked suddenly.

"What are you talking about?"

"When God uses you to speak on his behalf or heal, we call the light and energy you produce a HALO."

"Is that what happened?" I replied in disbelief. "I felt like I brainwashed her. It was very weird."

"You had a message to deliver, and you did it. I couldn't have done it any better myself," he said proudly.

There was a long uncomfortable silence between us.

"You still doubt everything," Nathaniel said softly, looking concerned. "I can feel it. Why do you deny God's calling for you?"

"I'm not cut out for any of this angel stuff," I finally admitted. "I'm just an average woman. Shouldn't God choose someone better looking or more achieved?"

Nathaniel chuckled at my comment. "I doubt he'd do that. That would defeat our purpose. We work undercover. You'll get used to this, with time."

I looked at the clock on the car's dashboard, and realized I was going to be late for work.

"Well, it's been fun and all," I drawled sarcastically, "But I have to get back to my real life now."

Nathaniel snatched away the car keys, quick as lightning.

"Not today," he said with conviction. "We have some training to do."

The next thing I knew, he had grabbed me and we burst through my already broken sun roof and into the air, far above my crappy little red car. We were soaring upwards, heading into the clouds.

"You're crazy!" I shouted. "You're going to get me killed!"

Nathaniel clutched me tighter and began to fly outwards at top speed, over the open canyon and houses, the lush green parks, and towards the city. The sky was a magnificent blue, the sun starting to warm up the chilly morning. Two birds soared by, squawking in surprise as they passed. A small commuter plane zoomed in our direction, feeling dangerously close. Nathaniel turned to the left, narrowly avoiding it. I yelled for him to slow down, but he just went faster, smashing through clouds and catching random gusts of wind. Then we dropped quickly, freefalling straight down. I closed my eyes in fear, clinging to him with a death grip, even after we landed.

"Wake up," Nathaniel declared, tapping me gently on the shoulder. "We're here."

I opened my eyes. We were standing on one of the tallest buildings in Seattle. All The streets and shops below, the pedestrians and cars seemed as tiny as children's toys. I cursed under my breath and clutched the rooftop's railing as a strong gust of wind blew, making the entire structure sway.

"Why are we up here?" I asked, unable to take my eyes off the streets below.

"It's time you learned to fly," Nathaniel answered and stretched his wings, which billowed out to what seemed an impossible length, pure white, feathered and massive. He looked like a bodybuilder that ate raw eggs and whey protein for breakfast and spent his days pumping iron in the gym.

"Are you insane? I can't just going flying with you. I'm supposed to be at work right now! You're going to cost me my job!", I clenched my hands into fists and screamed out loud in frustration, but my voice just disappeared into the large space all around us, the miles of streets, buildings, and city.

Nathaniel watched as I paced nervously along the rooftop, trying to figure out how I could get back down to solid ground escaping his detection.

"Can't we just skip this flying part?", I pleaded suddenly, "I'll go out on the streets and hand out Bibles on my lunch break, or whatever else you want."

"Negative," Nathaniel replied sharply, giving me a stern look, "We have to follow orders."

I sank down to my knees on the rooftop, covering my face with my hands, "I hate you," I mumbled, feeling hopeless.

Nathan didn't seem to care. He pulled out a device slightly larger than a cellphone, and began scrolling through it.

"What is that?" I exclaimed, "Don't tell me you angels have cellphones now."

"They're called HARPS. It's how we get our orders. They're also indestructible." He closed it and slammed it on the ground, and it bounced away. When he picked it up, the device was completely intact—unblemished.

"Oh, of course," I replied, feeling like a doofus. Apparently, even divine beings had modern communication devices now that surpassed that of humans. I had grown up think they were still in the dark ages, playing musical instruments, singing in choirs and running around doing good works on command. So much for that. Nathaniel held another strange device out that looked like an oversized tuner fork, testing the wind direction.

"Let's get started," he declared, holding out a hand to me, patiently waiting. I reluctantly joined him, peeling off my sweater to reveal a black spandex/polyester workout top, the only thing I could find that would accommodate my giant wings. What else was I going to do, really? He had me trapped on top of the Seattle Municipal building, sixty two stories above ground. We both opened our wings, and he lead me through a series of basic exercises, also teaching me how to steer myself in different directions. We practiced until I got to the point where I could raise and lower my wings until I floated just inches above the roof, my feet off the ground.

"Watch me," Nathaniel instructed. He broke off a large portion of the railing, tossed it aside then ran and leaped off the open edge of the building as graceful as a gymnast. His wings stretched out and caught the wind, gliding a few feet before turning around and landing back in front of me. He made the leap off the massive skyscraper look simple.

"Your turn," he said, pointing out to the open air with a smile. My eyes widened in horror. Flying seemed terrifying, like a baby bird I had once seen come crashing to death on the ground below.

"Seriously?" I demanded, "You want me to just leap off the building? I'm not even ready for this."

"Sure you are," Nathaniel insisted, "Just open up your wings and do what I taught you. You'll be fine. You'll catch the wind right away."

I looked at him doubtfully. Nathaniel looked as though he could easily handle a seventy-five-foot drop with no problem. I was just me, a mom who now had angel wings, mostly by mistake. I was sometimes late to work, often short on sleep, out of shape. I hadn't even taken my vitamins that morning, for crying out loud.

"What about a harness and a safety rope?" I wondered, but he just looked at me blankly.

He walked over and put his arm around my shoulders. "You're one of us now. Where is your faith?"

I shrugged, which ended up being a huge mistake. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air. Nathaniel had picked me up and thrown me off the building so fast I never saw it coming. I was falling head first over the edge of the building, careening at an incredible speed toward the street below. My stomach churned wildly, and I screamed in horror, closing my eyes, dreading the crash onto the ground below.

"Open your eyes! Open your wings!" Nathaniel yelled from behind, flying furiously right behind me. I was headed straight for the giant red canopy that covered the building's court yard, coming closer by the second. Something like raw instinct took over, and my wings opened and caught the air, just a few feet before I would have crashed into the red canvas. I flapped my wings and arms as hard as possible, and I careened quickly at the building next to me, heading towards a row of glass office windows. Inside, workers in cubicles were typing on their computers, unaware of how close I was to plowing into all of them.

"Turn!" Nathaniel bellowed from just behind me, and I veered to the left, narrowly missing the windows. I took off then, flying in a drunken manner for some time, catching gusts of wind and then falling, nearly crashing into buildings and once hitting a street lamp with my feet, which really hurt. Navigating the different gusts of wind was tricky, and Nathaniel flew behind me, yelling instructions the whole time. After a while, I wasn't afraid anymore, and flying felt as simple as driving a car.

"Follow me!" he yelled, rushing out into the lead, and we soared out of the city and above acres of farms and open land, swooping so low the wet grass tickled our feet. It was like child's play, with me chasing Nathaniel, nothing like being a human anymore. I laughed as we scared away swarms of cows and animals, and flew down over a grove of trees, startling birds so they flew away in every direction. We flew like this for miles, testing the limits of our own abilities. As I swooped down into a canyon and skimmed the surface of a lake with my feet, flying through, I let out a wild, unrestrained yell of delight. I had finally been set free.

That night as I lay down on my bed at home, I marveled at the day's strange turn of events. I had gone from nearly losing Roger's preschool placement to flying like a superhero. Flying had given me a strange sense of peace. When I was gliding through the air, nothing mattered, not the fact that James had been missing for over a month, or my lackluster career at the Orange Group. I picked up my cell phone and dialed James's number one more time, for old time's sake. This time, it just went straight to voicemail. I left James a final message to call me then shut off the phone and put it on my bedside table. I decided it was my last attempt to try to communicate with him, ever again.

Chapter 4

Modern Art, Sadness, and Self Portraits

It was a windy, cold Saturday morning the next day, as I raced through the almost empty parking lot of the Modern Art and Anime Museum just east of Downtown Seattle. A friend and I had paid good money to study under Hugo Valdez, a popular native artist and illustrator. Art was my new hobby, the latest attempt to escape the stress of my daily life.

Back at the museum, I had ordered my coffee and noticed my best friend Nancy waving at me from across the café. She looked surprisingly bright and cheerful for being there so early, and had a tall coffee and huge blueberry muffin in front of her. As much as I loved art, Nancy was the only reason I had signed up for the art class. I wouldn't have stuck with it if it wasn't for her.

"Are you even awake yet?" she joked as I collapsed into a chair across the table she was sitting at.

"Hardly," I muttered with a sigh. "Rodger woke up several times last night. He's having more nightmares about space aliens, again."

Nancy pushed back a lock of her reddish blond hair from her eyes and chuckled. "What is it with that kid and alien nightmares?"

I shrugged tiredly. "Who knows? But I can't wait until he outgrows this. I'm exhausted."

I was actually a little jealous of Nancy, who was a single mother, and had lost over fifty pounds in the last year since her divorce. She looked radiant as usual, and had flowing blond hair, wide dark eyes, a curvy figure, and a beauty about her that often stunned both men and women with surprise.

"How was your dinner date last night?" I asked.

She shrugged. "He was nice, I guess. A little too stiff for my taste, though. I think I like them a little rougher around the edges. You know, more mysterious and interesting."

Nancy leaned forward and gazed across the table at the front counter of the café, where our teacher, Hugo Valdurez, was ordering himself a coffee. He was a handsome looking Hispanic man, with shiny long black hair and a broad, strong frame, but a little on the short side. He was wearing a white button down shirt with black stripes and jeans, black boots.

"Now, that's a man you can sink your teeth into. Isn't he so hot?" Nancy breathed suddenly, gazing hungrily at Hugo. "You don't see guys like that anymore around here anymore. He's beautiful."

I had to hide a snort of laughter, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Hugo had a reputation for being downright abrasive at times, and his fiery temper often intimidated much of the class. Since the class had started three weeks ago, attendance had shrunken from thirty to just fifteen students, and most of us were either serious artists or just gluttons for punishment.

"What?" she demanded. "You don't think he's attractive? He seriously looks like those guys on the covers of romance novels."

"Of course he is," I muttered. "But he's also got a huge ego. Do you really want to deal with that?"

Nancy shook her head and gazed at Hugo, who took a brief cellphone call and then turned to get his large coffee. He gazed briefly in our direction and Nancy waved vigorously at him. Hugo had a puzzled look, but half smiled and waved back, then walked out of the café, still talking on his cellphone.

"He's just passionate, is all," Nancy insisted"You can tell how much he loves art, and he wants everyone to reach their potential. That's why he's so hard on us in class. I don't think he really tries to be mean. Do you think he's single?"

"Probably. Unless he has a wife and children chained up in the back of his house," I joked.

"He lives in a studio downtown. I doubt there's enough room to chain up a whole family in there," Nancy replied as she cut her untouched blueberry muffin in half and put one of them in front of me.

"You know where he lives?" I exclaimed. "Are you stalking him?"

Nancy blushed, "Just doing some research. I like to know a little bit about someone before I ask them out. That's all."

I raised my eyebrows at her, and she playfully slapped me on the side of the arm.

There was a long silence before she finally dared to talk about what we'd both been avoiding.

"Did James finally call you back?", she asked suddenly, her gaze becoming quite serious.

My brave demeanor crumbled and I wept while updating her about everything, including my recent call with the American Embassy.

"I can't believe he just left you hanging at the airport," she exclaimed, "James was always a bit cocky, but that's just cruel. What a jerk! Lauren, you don't deserve this."

"What do you think I should do?" I wondered, wiping at my eyes with the little brown cocktail napkin the barista had given me with my coffee.

Nancy sighed heavily and shrugged. "Look, don't do anything rash at this point. Who knows? Maybe he'll just catch another flight and come home, and everything will go back to normal. I hope so. But if you just so happen to catch him in the act of cheating and get proof of it, your chances of getting alimony, the house and child support go way up."

"Was it scary, getting divorced?"

"I was more scared when my ex-husband used to get drunk and threaten me. It just gets lonely sometimes, being single," she paused and gave a deep sigh. "I worry about what effect it has on Henry. He's only six. I worry that having him around all these guys I date, especially the ones he gets along with, will mess him up. But at least he can ride a bike and throw a football."

Henry was her freckled, red-haired son, a favorite pal of Rodger. Our boys had played together since they were two years old, from the time Nancy moved into my neighborhood.

She glanced at her watch. "We're going to be late. We better head off to class. Before Hugo freaks out."

As we stood and I grabbed my half empty coffee cup, she gave me a quick hug. "Try to cheer up, Lauren. You'll be OK."

I nodded and sighed, but I hadn't felt more insure in my entire life than at that moment.

There were ten students in class that morning, and most of us looked exhausted or half asleep. Hugo, with his fiery disposition and long, dark ponytail, moved through the room in a frenzy of manic energy as he described his early college art days. He declared how he had lived off of Top Ramen Noodles and dreams, and slept in a sleeping bag on the cold hard floor of an art loft he and five other students rented out. He once stayed up for three days straight working on his senior thesis, which later transformed into his top selling work of art.

"I had no family here in this country, no wife, no children. My mother, God bless her soul, died when I was fifteen. My father was some young stud who did nothing but procreate me and take off before I was born. My senior year, I had fifty dollars to my name. But art was my identity, my soul. I always knew who I was; what I was going to paint next," he bragged proudly.

"So what about all of you?" he asked suddenly, and paused for dramatic effect. He reached over and picked up a heavy cardboard box filled with magazines, and dumped its contents on the long white craft table in front of him. Then two more boxes. Magazines were falling off the tables onto the floor.

"Today we are doing collages. This about our identities—where we have come from and who we are today. Where do you see yourself in the future?" Hugo continued. He motioned each table up to collect magazines, paints, thick white paper, scissors, glue and other art supplies. It seemed everyone had an idea of what they wanted to do, and quickly got to work, while I was at a loss. While the class worked on their projects, Hugo darted around the room critiquing, advising, and sometimes admonishing, powered by a triple espresso and his enormous ego. He wasn't the easiest teacher to deal with. Someone always ended up mad or crying by the end of class, and it wasn't Hugo.

After half an hour, I still had nothing accomplished. Nancy had completed an entire, brightly colored collage with magazine cut-outs of expensive yachts, tropical beaches and mansions. Hugo raised his eyebrows as he walked by and appraised her project. For a moment he stopped and leaned over her from behind, pretending to examine the artwork closer up. In reality, it was just an excuse to get a better look at her generous cleavage, up close. She always wore her top halfway buttoned or zipped up to emphasis her well defined bosom.

"Very nice," he said softly, leaning over her, while Nancy practically quivered in excitement and pride.

"You have very refined, voluptuous taste," he finally said, and squeezed her shoulder softly before walking onto the next student. When he glanced back, their gazes locked hungrily on one another for an eternally long moment. I secretly wanted to gag.

"Isn't he incredible?" Nancy whispered, leaning over toward me. "I don't know what cologne he wears, but he smells awesome."

Moments later, Hugo and an elderly student two rows down from me began arguing over the subject of his collage.

"So it's just about fish then?" Hugo snapped, holding up the collage in front of his face so he could take a better look. "All I see are different photos of fish, Gregory. A kindergartener could do this. With his eyes closed."

The old, balding man narrowed his eyes. "I happen to own an aquarium shop downtown," he boasted. "I go fishing every weekend. Fish are my life. If you don't like it, get lost!"

When Hugo started chuckling, the old man grabbed his cane with on hand, and raised it menacingly toward the teacher. Hugo took a few steps back so he was out of Gregory's reach, tossing the collage back onto the table.

"Put down your cane down, senor," he barked back, matching Gregory's irritated look., " I was just giving you a critique, which I think you took the wrong way."

"I misunderstood nothing!" Gregory practically shouted in his shaky, hoarse voice, waving his cane. "You have no people skills. It's a miracle you can even keep yourself employed here!"

"And you have no talent," Hugo retorted, and half the students class in shock. "Art is a process of creativity and refinement. If you're not open to critique you can leave my class. Now,"

It was silent for a long moment while Gregory and the teacher stared one another down, as if daring the other to make the next move, or insult. I watched in surprise as the old man's angry look started to weaken, and the fight in his eyes slowly drained out until his face was blank and emotionless. He suddenly leaned on his cane, stood, and hobbled out of the room. Hugo's harsh gaze followed him as the old man gently pushed the door open and walked through. Yet the door slammed shut so hard behind him it startled everyone, and a gust of wind blew through the classroom, knocking over a few magazines and sending art supplies spilling off the tables. Hugo simply stood in the front of the room, with a slightly victorious look on his face.

"Get back to work, everyone," he ordered, and the rest of us obediently turned our attention back toward the day's project. Something poked at my foot. I looked down to see Gregory's collage had landed in front of me, and I picked it up. It was a white piece of small poster board with blue paint on it and three small pictures of goldfish glued on the front. I held it up and stared at it, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. The pictures of the goldfish seemed to crumble up and fell off onto my table, until there was just a small pile of dust in front of me. Hugo walked over and snatched Gregory's project out of my hands without a word, dumping it in the large metal trash can in the front of the room. I stared at my own blank white poster board, wondering if maybe the stress of James's disappearance and a lack of sleep was starting to make me hallucinate.

At the end of class, Hugo asked us to leave our collages on his desk, with our names written on the back. Nancy hurried over and had a quick, whispering conversation with him, handing him one of her business cards before she hurried off, winking and waving good-bye at me. I had a feeling Hugo would call her soon, and her look was absolutely victorious before she disappeared. I made sure I was the last to leave, and dropped my poster board on the table. It was unfortunately still blank.

"Wait!" Hugo called as I crossed the threshold of the room and walked into the hallway. "What is this? There's nothing on here. What's your name?"

"Lauren. Lauren Heinz," I replied with a heavy sigh.

"So Ms. Heinz," he continued with a sharp enough look," What's the story?"

"I just can't come up with anything, I'm afraid. I guess you'll just have to give me an F on this project," I replied slowly.

Hugo handed the poster board back to me and sat down at the edge of his desk with an intense look. He had fiery black eyes that seemed to look right through people and into their souls, and he didn't mind confrontation, obviously. But I was a peacemaker type, and he made me nervous.

"Don't you have any interests, a story behind your name, your heritage?" he drawled. "Please don't tell me you're into fish. One Gregory is enough for me."

I laughed. "No, I hate fish. We got my son Rodger a pet barracuda for his birthday, and it just about bit my middle finger off when I had to clean out the tank."

"Why would you have a pet barracuda?" Hugo asked, staring oddly at me.

"My husband brought it back from Brazil. He was working on a business project out there, and I guess he thought it would be a fun pet," I replied with a tremendous yawn. The next thing I knew, he had snapped his fingers in front of my face.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

Hugo merely lifted his head and laughed. "See how you are? You're in a complete daze all the time. I was doing that to get your attention."

Not funny, I thought darkly. I pulled out my blank collage canvas with my name scribbled in the middle, and put it on his desk, next to us. "What does any of that have to do with my project?" I demanded.

"You seem to have lost yourself," he replied. "And I think that's why you can't do this assignment."

"What do you mean, I've lost myself?" I snapped. "I'm sitting right here, Hugo."

"You are obviously a mother, probably with multiple children? And you're married?" he guessed.

"Yeah. So?"

"Your husband travels for work . . . Do you also work outside the home?"

I sighed impatiently. "Yes, I'm a sales assistant at an advertising firm."

Hugo smiled with a triumphant look. "My point exactly, Mrs. Heinz."

I balled my hands into fists, feeling tired and frustrated. "What point?" I snapped.

"Too many of you women nowadays are so busy, you can't recall a thing about yourselves, other than social statuses. I'm a CEO, I'm a wife. I have three children. I'm a receptionist. I own a three-story house downtown. Do you even remember who the real you was, before you made your life so complicated?"

Hugo grabbed the empty collage with my name written on it, and handed it to me. "What is it you want out of life, Lauren?" he asked me.

My stomach flip-flopped nervously as I returned his gaze. How had he figured me out so quickly?

"I don't know. I'm just so—" I grew silent for a moment, looking for the words.

Hugo nodded, as if encouraging me to continue talking. "Ordinary?" he finally said, and I finally nodded.

"Everything is just terrible right now," I blurted, surprised when the words tumbled out, and the tears started.

Hugo pulled up a chair for me and I gladly sank into it. "Go on," he said softly.

"My husband was working on a project abroad, he's disappeared, I'm raising three kids on my own now, and I hate my job." I winced, shocked I had revealed that much to a complete stranger. But I actually felt a bit better.

Hugo sighed and shook his head dismissively, tossing a Kleenex box in the room on my lap. "First of all, love is temporary. It's nothing more than a feeling that happens, and it dies away. Most people will never experience true love. They simply live a selfish life, trying to get what they can from others."

Why does that sound like James? I suddenly wondered.

"You need to prepare yourself," he continued suddenly. "James might not come back, and even if he does, he won't be the same man you're in love with. People change."

"Wait. Do you know my husband?" I asked suddenly, feeling confused. How did he know his name? Had Nancy told him?

"No, but I know you. Very well, in fact," he replied so quickly that I almost didn't catch his words.

"What do you mean? This is only my third week in class," I replied.

Hugo laughed nervously before continuing. "I know exactly how many of you women are, the working wives and mothers. How much have you sacrificed for James, all these years?"

"Everything," I replied in a guilty whisper.

Hugo stood, shaking his head. "This is tragic. You've lost yourself. You need to do some soul searching. Go hiking in the mountains, go to a nudist resort. Do yoga. Get a religion. Read a book. Get a lover. Get completely drunk and high until you have visions of the Gods!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands outward, and a group of students walking out in the hallway stopped and stared through the open door way.

I smiled and blushed. "OK. I think I get it, Hugo."

Hugo held out my blank project, and ordered, "Don't come back to class until that canvas is full of you. Go!"

He pointed me toward the exit door. "And take a nap first!" he called after me as I walked through the emergency exit that lead outside, accidently setting off the alarm. As a museum staff member ran to the door to shut off the alarm, my gaze locked with Hugo and we both started laughing. He blew me a huge dramatic kiss, which made me blush even more.

Find myself, I thought as I got inside my car and wiped the rain off my face, staring at my reflection for a long time in the rear-view mirror. Who was I now? With all the sudden changes in my life, I realized there was no easy answer.
Chapter 5

Midnight Warrior

That same night, strange dreams plagued my sleep, transforming into a journey I had never experienced before. Visions of humans in distress floated through my head, until they focused on just a single one. I saw a little girl hiding in a closet. She was slender, with long, tangled brown hair, and peeked through the Venetian slots in the door. Outside the closet, moonlight streamed heavily in through the windows. A tall man was standing with his back toward us, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a belt, yelling at someone. He pulled off his belt, the thick leather type, bent it in half, and began striking at a smaller body in front of him. I couldn't make out the words, but they were angry, furious. The person in front of him was a woman, probably the girl's mother, and she was weeping. Suddenly I was actually sitting there in the closet with the girl. The girl looked at me, terrified and shaking and I put my hands on her head. A warm light surrounded her body, and she lay down on the closet floor, falling into a deep sleep. As the man's arm rose again, I burst straight through the closet door, sending pieces of wood flying. I grabbed him from behind, catching his arm as he tried to strike again, and he pulled free, turning around to look at me. His hair was dark and unwashed, his eyes like two black holes in his face. A guttural growl escaped his lips, something belonging more to a monster than a man. He struck me in the chest so hard I went flying backward, crashing into the wall across the room. I got up and shook my head, unhurt but seeing stars. The man grimaced wildly as if having a nervous attack, his face contorting. The room temperature went to freezing in a matter of seconds. The windows frosted over, and icicles formed on the edges of the curtains. The girl's mother quickly hurried away, crawling under the bed across the room.

"Who are you?" I demanded, and he let a horrifying roar loose. The man raised his fingers to his eyes, scratching wildly until blood flowed down his cheeks. I knew then he was not human, and my stomach tensed.

"Come out of him now," I heard myself say. The person fell to the floor, shaking and writhing in seizure, and something crawled out of his chest, bursting through the flesh and muscle, rolling out onto the carpet. It stretched and grew rapidly to full height. It was a huge beast, almost twice the size of an ordinary man, and its' head just grazed the ceiling. The human corpse he came out of was split in half like a smashed pumpkin. The beast had a man's head and three large, muscular arms, one in the center of the chest. Its body was disgusting; covered with dark scales and massive muscles; it smelled bad. It roared, shaking the entire room.

"God help me," I prayed under my breath, shaking with fear. The old Lauren would have panicked and run for her life, maybe fainted. Instead, I broke off the long, thick wooden bed post at the foot of the girl's bed, which was slightly thicker than a baseball bat. The beast's incredible height meant I only had one chance. I leaped forward and hit him as hard as I could across the front of his legs. He groaned slightly in pain and began laughing. I cursed out loud- he swung at me so quickly with one of his arms I didn't have time to move. I went flying full force across the room a second time, momentarily blacking out. There was a huge explosion after that, so great that the entire house shook violently and the windows shattered, the bedroom door falling right off its frame onto the floor. A huge army of angel came storming in, inside. Some were even bigger and stronger than Nathaniel, and their auras were so bright. Most wore metal helmets, the group carrying a variety of weapons, everything from fiery swords to clubs, spiked balls connected to chains, and much more. I was pushed aside as they attacked the beast from all sides. Nathaniel was there suddenly, his skin flushed from breaking into the house. I felt relieved.

"How did you get here?" Nathaniel demanded as he unsheathed his sword.

"What do you mean? Didn't you send me here?"

"Of course not!", he snapped, "You have to leave. This is way too dangerous for you. Get the girl and her mother to a safe place. Now!"

I hurried over to the broken closet and grabbed the sleeping girl, then headed for her mother. As I hurried past, the beast grabbed both me and the girl in one of its gigantic hands, with a death grip. I cried out in pain, but managed to fold my wings and arms around the girl and myself, forming a protective shell. Nathaniel sliced the beast's arm right off with a single powerful swipe of his sword. The girl and I tumbled to the floor; she woke up and began to cry. I found her mother still curled up under the bed, terrified.

"Come with me," I ordered, but she didn't respond.

"Get them out of here, now!" Nathaniel roared at me from across the room. The beast was already regenerating a new third arm. Time was running out. I quickly stripped the mattress down to the wooden frame and dragged the woman out, then grabbed her daughter with the other. The whole situation was ridiculous- it reminded me of the time I had to stop both my twins, aged 2, from running off down a busy street. The angels had managed by this time to pin the beast's new arms and feet down with swords and chains, and were thrusting a huge, fiery blade toward his head. His pain filled roars shook the house. I leaped through the window, clutching the mother, the daughter clinging to my back. We hurried to a red pickup truck parked at the end of the long, gravel driveway. I strapped the girl in the back seat. She was whimpering softly still, looking terrified. Her mother, who was in the passenger seat, stared at me as I slid behind the steering wheel and then seemed to wake up and realize where she was. The car wouldn't turn on.

"There's no battery," the woman said in a hopeless voice, wiping at the blood on the side of her face. "He took it out yesterday so we couldn't leave."

I got out and yanked open the car's hood, finding the battery gone. I put my hand on the engine block and focused. Light illuminated the entire car, and the engine came roaring to life. The air outside smelled of rain and pine trees as we drove off into the night

"Where should we go? Do you have some safe to go? A friend or a relative's house?"

"The bus station in downtown Seattle," she said suddenly, her eyes taking on a sense of hope. "They have a bus that's leaving at midnight toward the reservation. My Grandmother lives there."

"What happened back there in the house before I got there?"

"My boyfriend found out we were going to leave, and pulled out the car battery. He told me he was going to kill me," she said and began to cry, her hands shaking. I gently touched her shoulder and warm lighted passed out of my hands and into her.

"Everything will be OK now. None of this is your fault," I soothed, and she instantly calmed down. Once again, I was shocked by my abilities.

The bus depot was nearly empty. I convinced a really tired looking clerk to give them free tickets, and I lead them to their bus just as it started to board

"Don't ever try to go back. It's not safe there. Once demons have occupied a house, it can stay open to the dark world for a long time" I warned. I don't know how I knew this, but I did.

"Your daughter won't remember a thing when she wakes up tomorrow morning," I continued.

The woman nodded gratefully "You're one of them, aren't you?" she said. "You're an angel, a God of light. My grandma used to tell me they would come to help people in trouble."

"Believe me, I'm no God," I chuckled, thinking of all the times I'd lost my temper at the kids, James especially, and recently at Nathaniel. I turned and hurried off without another word, disappearing into the dark night. Then I was flying in bright moonlight, over houses, parks, and roads, fatigue rapidly coming over me.

Something cold and wet hit my face, then the rest of me. I woke up shivering, lying on my front lawn. The sprinklers had just come on, and were shooting on rotation around the front of my house. How did I end up here? I wondered as I sat up and dried my face, noticing I was wearing the exact same clothes I'd fallen asleep in, pajama bottoms and that sports bra. An old man jogged by with his dog, slowing down to gawk at me. "You all right?", he called out.

"Fine. Just setting up the sprinklers and I tripped on one," I lied as I stiffly climbed to my feet. My body throbbed badly, like it had been hit by a train.

"Be careful," he called back as he continued his jog and disappeared down the block.

I hurried inside; grateful my kids were still asleep. Was the dream real? I found myself wondering. By the time showered and got dressed there was no time to ponder anything. I had to get back to work today, or risk losing my job.
Chapter 6

Nephilim Secrets

I hurried out of James's dilapidated red car and pulled on my suit jacket, hurrying across the parking lot to work that morning. I had been working at The Orange Group for the last few years. My previous job as a customer service rep for a food manufacturer had ended rather abruptly when the police had raided the building, and arrested the owners on fraud charges. The Orange Group became my safe landing pad after that.

As I walked into the Orange Group suite, the door slammed shut behind me. Sherry, the receptionist, looked up. She had been hired just over a year ago to replace me after I was promoted to work with Mason. From day one, we were like mortal enemies. Perhaps it was the fact that we were polar opposites—she was young, perky, single and an opportunist, and I was a mother of three who was honest, hardworking and hated drama. Eventually, it escalated to a full-blown argument between us in the copy room, and Robert(Bob) Orange, one of the owners, had walked in on us and threatened to tell Janet, his wife and the other owner if we didn't make peace. Sherry and I had avoided each other since then. Everyone was scared of Janet, with her super strict standards and rules.

"Hey, you're finally back!" she exclaimed as if all the previous animosity between us had never existed. "Are you OK? We all heard about the car accident. Were you in the hospital or something?"

"Oh, I'm fine," I lied. "Just a bit wiped out and tired. I don't even remember too much of it, to be honest."

"Mason was really worried about you," Sherry declared, tucking her short black hair behind one ear, "He kept trying to call you and no one was answering. He even called some of the hospitals to see if something had happened to you."

For a moment, she even looked a bit jealous.

"Mason?" I squeaked out and then cleared my throat, "I thought he'd be too busy for that."

Sherry just shrugged. "I don't think he could hold together Client Services without you. Lots of clients wouldn't be with us still if it wasn't for you. At least that's what he said."

Without another word, she turned back to her typing. I felt bad about the previous hatred I'd had for her. But my wings started fluttering in my back, begging for release.

"Thanks, Sherry," I said. "You have a meeting with the owners today, right?"

She looked at me in surprise. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"You told me last week," I lied, "Good luck with everything."

The truth was, I don't know how I knew about her meeting, but I just did. I hurried into the women's bathroom down the hall, locking the door behind me. My wings were burning and itching, in addition to the aching I felt all over my body. I pulled off my shirt and let my wings free. For the first time in three days, I stared at my body in the mirror, stunned at the physical transformation. My frame was strong and muscular, where I had once been puffy and rounded. I looked as though I had just completed military training, or like a female assassin in a Hollywood action movie. Even my face was thinner, and my eyes had a powerful brightness to them. But I had also been hurt pretty badly. Black and blue bruises lined my torso, and there was dried blood on my back and wings. My dream last night had to have been real after all. I was amazed that a beast that horrifying could exist. Nathaniel suddenly appeared behind me, out of nowhere. I yelped in surprise, thankful for the black sports bra I had bought twenty sets of over the weekend. I really needed to get something more suitable, maybe an adjustable suit like a super hero, I thought briefly.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed.

"Helping you," he replied and wet some paper towels, dabbing at the blood stains on my back and sides, which really hurt. I leaned my head against the mirror and winced silently through the pain.

"You shouldn't have gone there last night," he said in a condescending tone. "You weren't ready to fight demons like that. He could have killed you. We lost two angels trying to destroy him."

"So that was real, then?" I said, still doubting.

Nathaniel just rolled his eyes. "You look like you got hit by a truck. What do you think?" he replied. I winced as he poked roughly at one of the bruises on my ribs.

"Ow!" I exclaimed. "That hurts, you jerk!"

"What's a jerk?" he asked, looking confused.

I sighed tiredly. "Never mind. Can we hurry this up so I can get some coffee? My head is throbbing right now."

"You must be getting signals on your own. It's possible you opened the door to something else when you transformed," he said, stepping back and taking a deep breath. "This is not good at all."

I stared at him in the mirror. "What do you mean?"

Nathaniel looked guarded as he answered. "Well, there are many other dimensions aside from the one you humans live in. Most angels and demons live and fight in the other dimensions— like heaven and hell, and even time and space. But some of us can cross over to your human world, to help or to hurt. Some humans have the ability to cross over into these other dimensions."

"Like those with out of body experiences?" I asked.

Nathaniel nodded, looking surprised that I understood him. "Or psychics. Those sort of things."

"So am I possessed by something?" I asked warily.

Nathaniel shrugged. "You've probably developed an ability that wasn't there before. You're receiving signals directly from humans in distress, instead of getting orders like the rest of us."

"How are you all getting your signals then?" I demanded. "You mean you don't hear or see things like I do?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Not really. What happens is when a human is in need, like they offer up a prayer or assistance, it goes up to heaven. Those requests are distributed out to us angels to help, and we come to assist. We're supposed to get orders on our HARPS. That's how it works. We never get signals directly from humans."

"Really?" I exclaimed, sounding disappointed. "That sounds so boring-kind of like being a cop, actually."

Nathaniel frowned. "Why is it boring?"

"Never mind," I muttered. "So why is this happening to me?"

Nathaniel simply shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't think this is what is supposed to happen with you. But then again, you're the first Nephilim I've ever known. We need to be extra careful. It can be dangerous for you."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not quite as strong as the rest of us angels, because you're a Nephilim. You don't have all the training we do. God built us to fight demons and evil and to do good works. Humans are meant to live their lives on earth, so they don't have the superhuman abilities we do."

Nathaniel looked worried as he explained all this, which in turn worried me, making my headache worse.

"Does that mean I could get killed?" I asked softly, thinking of Rodger, the twins, and James, and how much simpler my life had once been.

"Everything that is part of your angel side will automatically go to help these people you've been getting signals from. Angels are hardwired to rescue and protect, and to serve. We have to figure out a solution to this," he said slowly, staring intensely at the mirror, almost lost in thought. "You may not be able to stop yourself when you get these signals."

Nathaniel looked so worried it sent chills down my spine.

"I have to get back to work," I said finally, feeling overwhelmed, and hoped he didn't force me into another ridiculous training session.

"Hold still first," he ordered and pressed both his hands into my back on either side of my spine. Light filled the room and I felt a warm heat spread through my body, to every aching muscle. When he stepped away, he looked exhausted, but all the bruises and blood on my body was gone, along with my headache. I had been completely healed.

"Thank you," I said as he folded up my wings into my back.

"Be careful," he warned, and then he was gone, almost as if he had vanished into thin air.

I hurried through the break room to grab some coffee and headed to my office. Mason was on the phone with a client. I walked in and waved hello to him, heading straight for my desk. His response was one I will never forget. He dropped the receiver in surprise as I walked past then remembered he was on the phone with a client. I turned on my computer and proceeded to catch up on emails. My new angel powers meant I could sense things happening around me even when I wasn't looking in that direction. I could sense Mason was staring at me, full of confusion and wonder. It was an aura he gave off that I somehow caught onto. Perhaps Nathaniel was right about my newfound powers, I realized. By the time Mason finished his phone call, I was halfway through my morning data entry.

"Holy smokes, girl!" he exclaimed suddenly, and I turned around to stare at him. "What in the heck happened to you?" he continued, suddenly standing right next my chair, grinning down at me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, starting to feel nervous, and even a bit paranoid. I scratched my back, trying to make sure my wings hadn't suddenly come free by accident

"First of all, I didn't hear from you for three days. I thought maybe you collapsed or went to the hospital. Then you come in here completely made over. Your hair is different, and you look like you lost weight. Your skin looks amazing. Are those muscles on your arms I see?" he asked, poking one of my biceps gently. "What happened to you?"

I tried to fake a weak smile as I pulled on my suit jacket over the vest I was wearing. I was blushing deeply, all the way up to my hairline.

"I got some highlights in my hair, on Friday" I lied. "I was trying to cheer myself up. You know, I was pretty out of it. I mostly just slept and my appetite was completely gone. I left messages for Janet, I think."

In the midst of all the chaos of my transformation and starting training with Nathaniel, I hadn't once thought to reach out to my coworker. But now I was starting to realize just how much trouble I might be in.

I turned back to my computer, but Mason was still standing there behind me.

"What?" I finally asked expectantly, turning back to look at him.

"I never heard from you. You should have called me back," he said, looking a bit accusingly at me. "I was worried about you—really worried." He looked at his feet. "I even called the hospitals to see if you were there."

So Sherry was telling the truth, I thought, feeling slightly victorious.

"Oh!" I said, trying to feign surprise. "I'm sorry. You didn't have to do that. I'm OK, really. It was just a big shock, and I was really out of it and exhausted."

"It's okay, Lauren. But are you sure you're okay?" Mason continued. "You seem so different. You've lost a lot of weight." Mason's gaze was intense, his green eyes searching mine.

"It's just me, Mason," I insisted, laughing softly as I stood and grabbed a stack of invoices I needed to catch up on. "The same old boring Lauren Heinz. Here to do your data entry, your telemarketing and bill your clients."

"You're not hurt at all?" he asked. " I still can't believe you even survived that accident. Your Suburban was a complete wreck."

I cringed at the thought of my beloved car completely demolished. "I'm a little sore still," I admitted. "Look, Mason. Sometimes the unknown happens and we just don't have an answer for it. Try to stop worrying so much."

He stepped forward suddenly and hugged me. For a moment, I just let myself lean into his chest. Mason was much taller than me, in fact I only reached his shoulder. His blue wool sweater smelled of cologne and laundry detergent, and I could feel that his frame was tall and lean, but strong. I had to tell myself that he was technically my boss. When he stepped back, Mason's face was clouded over with emotion. He was blinking back tears, which I had never seen him do before.

"Are you OK?" I asked, stunned by his sudden display of emotion. He shook his head, retreating to his desk suddenly.

"I'm sorry," he muttered in a hoarse voice, and began to sift through papers on his desk, in a distracted way.

"Mason, we've been working together for three years. You may as well tell me what's wrong," I said in a no-nonsense voice that the old Lauren had never dared to use with him. "I know just about everything about you there is to know. I even make your coffee before you go out on cold calling blitzes."

He looked at me in surprise before answering.

"Shana left me," he blurted, his eyes full of pain. "The day after you got in a wreck, I came home from work and she had moved out. No phone call goodbye, no warning, nothing. She left me a note on the fridge saying she found somebody else." He stood and leaned heavily on the window frame with both hands. With his tall frame and good lucks, it reminded me of a model in cologne or a clothing advertisement for men.

"But that wasn't the problem—I mean, not all of it. Shana and I had been drifting apart for months," he said, glancing back at me. "I was worried something happened to you. It just feels like I'm losing everyone around me."

"Well, I'm still here. Look at the bright side. You still have Sherry at the front desk too," I said, trying to sound light and cheer him up. "She'll always transfer your calls correctly, and make out with you at company functions."

Mason's mouth quirked into a small smile. "Oh, you heard about that too, huh?" he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, we both got pretty wasted last month at the happy hour everybody here. Kind of stupid."

"Shana doesn't deserve you, and you'll be just fine without her," I continued. "Mr. Horan at The Gold Mountain Club is about to call you back. He's ready to sign the proposal. But only if you give him a 10 percent discount. Offer it up front."

His phone rang suddenly, and I put it on speaker phone. "Mason, you won't believe this! Mr. Horan at the Gold Mountain Club is on line two for you," Sherry exclaimed, her voice so full of enthusiasm I could picture her jumping up and down behind her desk like a college cheerleader, waving pom-poms.

"You better take that call," I muttered, and returned to my desk. Mason's eyes were as big as saucers as he picked up the phone. I pretended to be enthralled with my never-ending data entry, but my new-found abilities had me as stunned as Mason, and feeling like a bad ass. It was going to be an interesting day.

I was at the copy machine twenty minutes later when Mason cornered me. He slid into the small office supply room rather casually, glancing outside the door to make sure we were alone first.

"What are you up to?" he asked casually, coming up to lean on the opposite end of the machine with both hands. He had the sleeves of his collared shirt rolled up to just above his elbows, muscles bulging on his forearms impressively. Or at least I thought it was impressive. Can you tell how lonely I was without James in my life? At least I was trying to hide it, though.

"Copying your invoices," I replied, waving my hand at the huge stack of billing that sat on the printer's feeder, trying not to check him out again.

"Oh, right," he said awkwardly, looking like a fool. "Well . . . good job with that."

He seemed to just be standing there, staring at me for the longest time, so I pretended to be busy with the machine and with checking my invoices. Finally, I could endure the uncomfortable silence between us no longer.

"What's up, Mason?" I finally blurted. "What do you need?"

Mason was quiet for a long moment before continuing. "How did you know about Mr. Horan calling?" he asked, looking intensely at me. "And the discount? I offered it to him. He just signed up for five years for full service advertising. My commissions are going through the roof with this deal!"

I faked a wide smile to hide the terror I felt inside. What if Mason or someone else found out I was a Nephilim? What would happen then?

"Congratulations!" I exclaimed and scratched at my back. My wings were starting to itch badly again, and I had this sudden instinct something was not right.

"Of course I'll give you a bonus out of mine," Mason continued,. "It's only fair. You did the proposal."

"And set the appointment, and just about everything else." I muttered, pulling out a paper jam in the machine.

Mason cleared his throat. "How would you feel about coming with me to some networking events this month?"

For a moment, I just stared at him, surprised. Was Mason talking about preparing me for some sort of promotion? The growing sense of unrest inside of me suddenly became worse. My heart was pounding, my wings fluttering, my stomach jumping.

"Come on," I muttered irritably and slapped the copy machine roughly when it stalled again. The entire side panel fell off, but the contraption suddenly whirred back to life, and began pulling my invoices through the feeder at top speed. Then I realized Mason was still there, staring at me.

"What?" I asked, feeling like a caged animal.

"Do you want to go to the networking meetings, or not?" he continued.

"Yeah, sure, of course," I muttered in a light tone. The intense feeling inside of me was growing. Run, my mind told me, get out of there right now.

Mason looked down and gasped. "Lauren, the machine's not even plugged in. How are you running this thing?"

"I have to take care of something urgent," I finally said. "Can you finish this up? Thanks." and I handed him the printer panel, which was so heavy he nearly dropped it on his foot.

Mason called after me but I took off running full speed down the hallway, and toward the stairs, kicking my high heels off into the stairwell so I wouldn't trip over them.

The vision came to me then. A man was standing on the outside ledge of the fourteenth floor in a building just down the street, about half a block away. He was crying, his red tie undone and billowing in the cool Seattle breeze. He had just lost his job as a computer programmer, and the day before, his fiancé broke up with him. I didn't know how I knew all this, but I did. He was ready to jump off the building and end his life.

I hurried out onto the small balcony of the building, and yanked off my suit jacket, so I could set my wings free, tying it around my waist. Then I leaped off the railing at full flight. At the same time, I could sense Mason wandering the hallways looking for me. He found one of my heels outside the stair well, and looked confused. I raced down the street below in a matter of seconds, and turned the corner toward my destination just as the man jumped. I saw the figure up ahead falling quickly from the building. I was running out of time. It was too late to stop him, so I raced forward and dove directly under his shadow as he came crashing towards the ground. I tensed my wings and prayed that it wouldn't hurt. He was heavier than I thought. I went crashing hard into the asphalt beneath us, and everything went black.

A cold raindrop landed on my head, then another. Birds chirped in the background, and not too far off a car horn honked, the driver yelling out at someone to hurry up. I woke up. I was lying between two tall buildings just by the sidewalk, and the sky had become an overcast gray, the usual condition for that time of the year in Seattle. Someone was standing over me, an older woman who wore her gray hair in a bun. She looked like someone who might work in one of the nearby buildings, a secretary or office manager.

"Are you OK?" she asked in a worried tone, gently touching my arm. I looked over to my side, and realized there was a small crowd of people standing around me. I tried to sit up, but my head was spinning like I had just gotten off the world's fastest roller coaster.

"Don't move," a guy behind her blurted. "You need to lie back down. You might have a concussion or something. Your chin is bleeding. The paramedics are on their way."

"What?" I exclaimed. "The paramedics?!"

I managed to focus on my surroundings. I was only a few feet away from where the man had leaped. The concrete on the ground was cracked, but there was no other body lying anywhere around. Where had he gone? The ambulance pulled up then. As the paramedics climbed out carrying their heavy medical supply boxes, I saw a familiar face lingering at the edge of the crowd, completely disheveled. His shirt was torn at the bottom, hair was rumpled and his eyes were red rimmed from crying. That red tie, I thought, as our gazes locked. It's him, the jumper.

"Hey," I called out softly. He backed up, then hurried down the alleyway and disappeared. So he had made it out alive and unhurt, and he hadn't even bothered to thank me, I thought bitterly.. It started raining and someone held an umbrella over me as two paramedics approached, asking questions. I said I was having a dizzy spell and fell. They bandaged my chin and scraps, took my vital stats, amazed at my low, relaxed heart rate, and tried to take my blood pressure. The red arrow on the blood pressure meter swung up to 300 then back down to zero.

"What in the world?" he said and tried again. He pumped up the cuff once more and it ballooned pushing against my bicep, then burst. Great, I thought sarcastically. Wait until they try to put an IV in me. I pushed the broken cuff off and sat.

"I'm fine," I said forcefully, looking deeply into his eyes. "I don't need to go to a hospital or anything." The paramedic nodded obediently, looking almost hypnotized.

"But you just fainted and we're having trouble with your vital signs," the other paramedic protested. The crowd had disappeared by then, so I knew I had a solid chance on getting away without further drama. I reached over and touched his hand, and he pulled it back as if I had shocked him.

"I told you, I'm fine," I repeated intensely, "There's a car crash down the street at Sixth and Winchester Ave. They're going to be calling you right now on the radio about it." A voice came over the radio, asking for assistance. When he walked over to answer it, I stood up and quickly limped off, ducking into the coffee shop on the corner. I was shaking inside and out from the turn of events, but they didn't come looking for me.

It was noon when I returned to the work, awkwardly trying to fix my disheveled hair and to smooth out the wrinkles in my skirt. My clothes were a complete disaster, the hem of my skirt torn and dirty from the concrete I'd fallen. I found my suit jacket and vest back on the stairwell, but my shoes were gone. Mason was on talking softly on cellphone when I limped back into the office. When I sat down behind my desk he turned and saw me, then stared, his gaze concerned. I turned to face my computer, trying to figure out what I would tell him.

"Hey, Angela," he said into the phone,. "Let me call you back." He promptly hung up.

"What do you need, Mason?" I muttered in a tired voice, pulling back my messy hair into a bun and sweeping a lock of hair out of my eyes. I was so exhausted; I wanted to just take a nap at my desk. Mason just stared at me, gazing over the top of his stylish, horn rimmed glasses.

"Let me guess, you need a cup of coffee, right?" I continued, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice. He shook his head, silent.

"You want me to sharpen your pencils? Go over to the corner store and get you a pack of cigarettes? You need a foot massage?"

I'd never been so sarcastic to anyone at work, let alone my boss. I sounded like a secretary who'd poured way too much rum in my coffee that morning, and I didn't even care. I was pissed off at the jumper who'd run off without so much as a thank you. My whole body hurt like I'd been hit by a city bus. My elbows and knees were skinned and bloodied from falling hard on the asphalt.

Mason gave me a startled look. "Why would I ask you for a foot massage? I don't smoke anymore, Lauren. Didn't you know that?" he said and then burst into laughter. The effect he had on me was contagious, and soon we were both roaring with laughter, fighting off tears.

"Where did you go? You just ran off. You left your shoes on the stairwell," he finally asked, pulling out my black high heels and setting the on the edge of his desk.

"These are some nice shoes," he muttered, trailing his fingers over the patent black leather, and read the label on the inside, "Christian Laboutin. Isn't this a really high end brand?"

The shoes had cost me almost $600. I bought them after the last huge fight James and I had, in an attempt to console myself.

"Stop molesting my high heels," I muttered irritably as I snatched them away, then tossed them in my desk drawer. I was so tired I laid my head on my desk for a moment.

"Earth to Lauren," Mason said suddenly, waving his hand in front of me.

I glanced up, opening one eye. "What?"

"Are you going to tell me what happened?", he pressed, giving me a semi-stern look.

"I had a personal emergency," I replied, "I had to help a friend. Let's just say, technically, I was out to lunch."

"You look like you jumped out of a moving car or something. You're all beat up," he continued, eyeing me curiously.

His gaze was making me nervous, so I got up and limped to the filing cabinet by the door, grabbing a stack of updated invoices that came in that morning.

"Your clients paid, didn't they?", I declared, tossing them on his desk.

Mason looked through the stack of updated invoices, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

"There's more on the way," I added, and before he could reply, his phone rang.

"Mr. Jacobs!", Mason exclaimed into the receiver, a few seconds after answering the call, "How are you?"

My coworker paused and looked at me, his eyebrows raised, "Sure, you can pay all your overdue invoices today. Did you want me to swing by and pick up a check? I can be there in half an hour.." He waited for a response on the phone, and smiled at me, "No, it's no problem at all."

Mason's face looked like he had won the lottery as he ended the call.

"My God, we're about to total a hundred thousand dollars in paid invoices this week alone. I've never seen anything like this! How did you pull this off?" He pulled on his suit jacket on and clipped his tie back on. Mason hated traditional ties- he said they felt like a noose around his neck.

"Just hard work," I muttered.

"Well, feel free to head home early. I think you've actually met your collection goals for the next four months or so," Mason said as he grabbed his keys and his cellphone, "I'll see you tomorrow okay? Oh, and try not to have any more accidents."

I smiled and waved as he disappeared down the hallway, then collapsed against the top of my desk with a sigh of relief. Living my daily life and being a Nephilim was starting to prove extremely chaotic and tricky. How much longer could I keep up the act of living my normal life before someone close to me found out the truth? Perhaps only time would tell.
Chapter 7

Red Solo Cups and Revelations

Imagine going into a party and hearing not only people's voices but also their thoughts. It happened to me, that same week, on Friday. For several weeks leading up to my transformation, my friend Nancy had begged me to attend a party she was holding at her house. I finally caved in , paid the twins to watch Rodger and Nancy's son, and hurried off with a cheesecake and a bottle of wine. As I walked in alone, I felt lost without James. Even when he was gone for work, I tried not putting myself in situations where I might seem single to others, or feel lonely. It meant Nancy and our other single friends usually went out drinking and dancing without me.

Nancy's house was crowded with people talking, drinking from beer bottles and red Solo cups, and party streamers hung across the living room ceiling. A small group of guests were already dancing. For some reason, it seemed like everyone was talking at once, which I couldn't understand. I nearly bumped into one guy on my way into the house, and our gazes briefly met before I looked away in shyness.

"I'd like to get a piece of that," I heard him say suddenly. I stopped and turned around, stared at him in complete shock.

"What did you say?" I asked in a loud voice over the music booming in the background.

The handsome guy startled then shook his head. "Nothing. I didn't say a thing," he claimed. "Sorry." He hurried off across the room, constantly glancing back over his shoulder at me, clearly quite spooked. It wasn't until then that I realized I had been hearing his thoughts, loud and clear.

"Weird," I muttered to myself, shaking my head, and noticing that others in the room weren't talking at all. I could still hear them, just the same.

"Lauren! You're here!" somebody shouted in the background, and I whirled around to see Nancy standing across the room with a margarita in her hand, and Hugo's arm around her waist. She looked radiant, her blond hair bleached, her skin so tanned she looked she belonged on an island in the Pacific, not stormy, rainy Seattle. Nancy hurried over and gave me a hug then turned to glance at Hugo, who was right on her tail.

"You remember Hugo, right?" she said, reaching over to take his hand in hers.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, Nancy. We were in his art class a few weeks ago."

Hugo nodded at me, and I noticed his gaze lingering more than it ever had before. He was wearing all black like usual, boots, jeans and a black knit sweater that clung to his strong, muscular frame. His hair was swept back into a ponytail, with a long, loose lock cascading down the side of his face. He had an aura to him that seemed rather intense, and reminded me of Nathaniel. Somebody changed the music that was playing, to a darker and pulsing song, more like Nine Inch Nails.

"How's my son behaving?" Nancy asked, sipping on the drink she was holding and winked at me. "Did the boys turn your house upside down yet? Color on the walls with Sharpies?"

I widened my eyes, "Oh, God. I hope not! When I left they were eating corn dogs and playing a racing game on the X Box."

Nancy slapped me playfully on the arm. "Relax! This is a party, Lauren! Live it up for once!"

"Maybe she needs a little help loosening up," Hugo added, raising his eyebrows in an appraising manner at me.

"Of course she does!" Nancy exclaimed, and grabbed me with one hand, Hugo with the other, and pulled us both out onto the dance floor. She began dancing between both of us in time to the music, urging me to loosen up and have a good time. My friend was already drunk at that point, so she forgot to let go of my hand. She began kissing Hugo, and his hand slid down her waist and touched mine. It was like I had been given a huge electrical shock. I stepped back, staring at both of them, shocked. Hugo had Nancy draped over him as they danced, and she was practically hanging onto him. He kept gazing over her shoulder at me, his eyes locked on me, hungry. He was mouthing the words on the music, an obscene song.

I glanced around, confused, trying to figure out if he was looking at someone behind me, but there was no one else. Hugo licked his lips, and his eyes turned a dark black color. I kept seeing shadows, black swirling bits that moved around him and Nancy as they swayed back and forth. Was I hallucinating or was it just a result of my newfound Nephilim powers? When the song ended, he stepped back from Nancy, and asked her to get me a drink. She disappeared obediently into the kitchen, taking my cheesecake and bottle of wine with her. I began to search for my purse, hoping I could talk my way out of staying at the party. When I turned around, Hugo was standing so close he was inches from my face. I stepped back, completely unnerved.

"What do you want?" I demanded. He stepped forward into my space again and held the side of my face with his left hand then grabbed my chin rather firmly.

"Something about you has changed," he declared suddenly, gently moving my face back and forth in his hands. "Your face is thinner. Stronger and healthier."

I put a hand on his chest and stepped back, pushing him away as I did so. "I went on a special diet. Low carb, gluten free, something like that." I lied.

Hugo chuckled. "That wouldn't explain your change in DNA," he declared, beginning to circle around me rather closely, like a vulture. I had a hard time keeping my eyes on him. His continual movements made me almost dizzy.

"Who are you now, Lauren?" he asked suddenly. "Or maybe I should say. . . what are you?"

My blood ran cold with panic. I turned and hurried out of the house. On my way through the front doorway, I heard someone whisper my name above the music, and turned. Hugo had not left the spot where he was standing, but he had said my name. How was it I could hear him simply whisper, with all this noise in the room? I hurried down the front steps of Nancy's house, my heart pounding. I'd gotten no farther than halfway down her driveway, when Hugo suddenly materialized right in front of me. Actually, he had come out the front door and leaped into the air, landing right in front of me. He landed so hard the concrete beneath his feet cracked. For a long moment, I just stared at Hugo, completely shocked. He tilted his head, smiling like there was some sort of private secret between us.

"Interesting," he said in a soft voice. "I haven't seen a Nephilim in maybe over a hundred years, perhaps two hundred. And you, of all people, Lauren," he laughed. "My God, you were the last person I'd ever suspect."

"What do you mean?"

"You're just so ordinary. The loyal wife, the good mother," he rolled his eyes dramatically. "You've probably never even gotten so much as a speeding ticket in your life, have you?"

I gulped and managed to whisper. "Once; when I was in college. I was running late for my final exams."

Hugo threw his head back and laughed. "This is all so ridiculous! Lauren, you're like a real live Stepford wife."

I winced at his words, but it was true. Before James's disappearance, for years, I had run myself ragged trying to please everyone. There were days when James would call and expect me to have the house clean and a nice dinner on the table for dignitaries or ambassadors that were in town, with only a few hours' notice. Guess who always managed to pull it off with a fake smile, when she really wanted to rip out her hair and smash her husband's computer? Hugo was so right. The old Lauren Heinz had been nothing but a dutiful robot.

"How old are you, Hugo?" I managed to ask, hoping to distract him.

"About a thousand years old, likely," he replied softly, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I've nearly lost count."

"What are you?" I demanded. "How could you be a thousand years old? You don't even look over forty."

"I'm not all that different from you, Lauren," he continued with a wry smile, "It's a small world, isn't it?"

I could hear my HARP ringing in my pocket suddenly. I had to get out of there, before Nathaniel realized someone had figured me out.

"I have to get home now," I explained and turned to leave, but Nancy's boyfriend quickly blocked my path. Instinctively, I punched Hugo in the stomach so hard he went flying backward and crashed into a tree on Nancy's lawn. A bunch of dried leaves fell off and covered him in a pile. For a moment, I didn't know whether to laugh or be horrified. My best friend's boyfriend was lying in a heap at the base of the tree, his hair freed from its luxurious ponytail. Yet Hugo seemed fine. He got up and shook the leaves off of him, stretched his muscular torso, leaped up, and landed in front of me again. I backed up, prepared for a fight.

"Relax," Hugo hissed in a rather seductive tone. "I'm not going to hurt you . . . I'm just fascinated. You have incredible strength. How long have you been a Nephilim for?"

I just shook my head, terrified, remembering Nathaniel's stern warnings to never reveal my powers to anyone.

"It was just an accident, Hugo," I whispered. "I'm sorry. You startled me. Now let me go."

Hugo just laughed. "Lauren, you need to get a thicker skin on you. Never apologize when you knock down another angel, or a demon."

"So what are you?" I finally dared to ask.

"I'm free," he exclaimed rather dramatically, throwing out his arms. "I have the best of everything. All the power I want, and none of the bureaucracy."

"Who do you work for?" I demanded.

"No one," he replied quickly. "I do as I please, most of the time. I left the powers that be long ago. It's a battle you can't win, in heaven or hell," he sighed. "You see, neither God nor the devil are happy for very long. You kill or save one person, and then it's another and another they want from you. I have unlimited powers, and the only limit is my mind."

I just stared at him, confused. "So you've gone rogue, then?" I managed to ask.

Hugo just walked over and put his around across my shoulders. "Why don't you join me, Lauren? Don't tell me you really enjoy running around taking orders from somebody else. Nobody does."

Nathaniel suddenly swooped down right next to us, appearing out of nowhere. He and Hugo stared at one another for a long moment, a look of hatred floating between them. Hugo started laughing, his gaze traveling back and forth between Nathaniel and me.

"Oh my God, Lauren," he exclaimed. "I can't believe you're working with him!"

They must know each other, I realized. How small was this angel world we all operated in, really?

Nathaniel stepped forward, pushing me behind him and away from Hugo rather protectively. "Stay away from her," he ordered. "She's not your charge."

"Really?" Hugo sneered, raising his eyebrows. "Tell me, how does a mortal woman manage to suddenly become a Nephilim? Because the last time I saw her, she was completely ordinary."

Nathaniel just glared at him. "That's none of your business. You're here to have a good time and seduce some humans. Go back to your party, alone."

"Don't tell me you're still following that old, dead chain of command? Running around like God's little lap dog all the time?" Hugo sneered. He barked like a dog twice to emphasis his point, laughing again.

Nathaniel stepped forward, looking wrathful, "I'm a very high ranking soldier. My work has purpose, unlike yours."

"Sure you are," Hugo responded, and Nathaniel tried to punch him in the face. Hugo caught his fist quite expertly, and for a moment they both wrestled against one another. In a flash, each held a small weapon in the other hand, Nathaniel a small golden axe, and Hugo a shiny dagger, and they were sizing each other up.

"Hugo!" I heard Nancy calling from her front porch suddenly.

"The humans. They're watching," Nathaniel whispered in a tight voice, and immediately, both of them seemed to come to their senses, and their weapons disappeared. Hugo stepped back, but neither of them took their eyes off the other. If looks could have killed, they both would have been dead bleeding on the floor.

Nathaniel turned and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me down the sidewalk and away from Hugo. "Let's go, Lauren," he ordered.

"Why don't you let her decide for herself what she wants to do?" Hugo called after him, and Nathaniel glanced back, giving him another look of death.

"When will you tell her the truth, brother?" Hugo persisted.

Nathaniel's face darkened with anger. He walked over, smashing his palm into Hugo's chest, releasing a powerful force that I'd never seen him use before. Blue flames shot out of his hand and into Hugo's chest. Nancy's boyfriend went stumbling backward, with a steaming hole in the front of his trendy black sweater.

Nathaniel stormed off down the street, pulling me with him. We walked all the way back home, where he locked the front door, the lowered all the blinds on the front windows of the house.

"What was Hugo talking about back there?" I demanded. "What is he, Nathaniel? Why does he keep calling you 'brother'?"

Nathaniel heaved an exasperated sigh and stormed past me into the kitchen, where he began making a fresh pot of coffee.

"When will you answer me?" I demanded, walking over and standing right in front of him, blocking his access to the coffee maker, "Why did we leave Nancy back there?"

"Who?" Nathaniel demanded.

"My best friend!" I nearly shouted. "What's wrong with you? Why can't you just tell me what the hell is going on here?!"

"I didn't know you had any friends," Nathaniel replied in a confused tone. He pushed me aside to finish making the coffee, then stood and watched it brew, like a child watching dessert bake in the oven.

"Of course I do," I snapped. "You, know, I had a pretty normal life before I became a Nephilim."

Nathaniel just guffawed. "You mean a fairly boring life," he replied.

"Why does everyone keeo telling me that?" I demanded.

But as I glanced around my kitchen, which was meticulously cleaned and stylishly decorated, the walls recently repainted and wall papered, at the family calendar on the wall, I felt a sinking feeling inside. These things had been my distraction from my failing marriage to James. The more things fell apart between us, the more I tried to tightly organize the rest of my life, until it bordered on obsession.

"Your friend Nancy is in a lot of danger with Hugo around," Nathaniel mumbled as he took out two mugs and poured freshly brewed coffee into them. "You need to stay away from him too."

"Then tell me who the hell he is," I snapped, snatching the full cup of hot coffee from Nathaniel so quickly some of the hot liquid spilled on my hand.

"Don't say hell," Nathaniel chided. "How many times have I told you that?"

"You're completely useless to me tonight," I finally muttered and stomped away, slumping down onto a chair at the kitchen table.

"We may have orders coming. Make sure you're ready," Nathaniel declared as he took a seat on the other side of the kitchen counter at one of the tall stools I had bought last year for Christmas.

"Great," I muttered, sipping at my coffee. "Why can't I ever just have a normal Saturday night for once?"

Nathaniel laughed. "Oh, you'd rather sit on the couch and watch Martha Stewart episodes all night?"

"Shut up," I hissed, trying to hide my embarrassment. Martha Stewart had been my dirty little secret I never told anyone about; I watched her show at night after everyone was in bed. Her table centerpieces had always been a hit with James's ambassador and dignitary friends- her ideas had saved the day so many times. But most people I knew would rather get a root canal done then tune into Martha.

"This coffee is wicked good," Nathaniel suddenly declared, and got up to pour himself another cup.

"Slow down!" I exclaimed as he gulped down the second cup like a parched sailor. "That has caffeine in it, you know."

He was on his third cup by the time I finally realized the coffee pot was empty. He stumbled back toward his seat and missed it entirely, falling flat on his tail bone on the tiled kitchen floor. Nathaniel threw his head back and laughed, muttering about broken wings and too much coffee. I walked over and pulled him up to his feet, and that's when I realized he was actually intoxicated.

"Have you been drinking alcohol?" I demanded

Nathaniel pressed his lips against me suddenly, kissing me. Shocked, I pushed him roughly away.

"What's gotten into you? You're a freaking angel. You're supposed to be holy or something like that," I declared.

He stumbled over to the mirror on the kitchen wall and began yelling and arguing with his own reflection in Latin, making no sense to me at all.

"Coffee makes angels drunk," I suddenly realized aloud, "But why not me?"

Nathaniel was looking in the mirror, laughing hysterically, until he began to cry.

"Stop!" I ordered, yanking him away from the mirror. "You'll wake up the kids!"

He staggered over to the couch, crying about being a complete failure, a cast off from God's kingdom. The clock on the wall showed it was midnight. Soon Nathaniel was asleep, snoring loudly. I snickered at the irony of the whole situation, and threw a blanket over him, hoping he would be gone by the morning. The last thing I needed was my kids seeing a high-ranking angel staggering around with a nasty hangover. About twenty minutes later, I shook him, yelled in his face to wake up. Nathaniel was in a very deep sleep, like a toddler who had been up forever and then suddenly crashed. That's when I remembered Nancy. I had left her all alone there in the house with Hugo and whoever else was there at her party. I checked on my sleeping children, then rushed off to find her, feeling guilty.

Back at Nancy's house, I hurried past the group of people in her kitchen with a growing sense of dread. She was in some sort of danger—I could sense it, but didn't know what. The guests in the living room were dancing closely with one another to dark, sensual music, or making out on the couch. It smelled like cigarettes and Pot. I raced upstairs, still looking for her. As I walked down the hallway I heard several voices talking and laughing and a heavy sigh. I followed the sounds to her Nancy's bedroom, dreading what I would find when I opened the door. A dim light was on, and Nancy was lying motionless on the bed, most of her clothes removed. Hugo was kneeling over her on the bed, shirtless, and a small group of guests had gathered to watch. Hugo seemed to have some sort of superhuman power over her. He held a hand over Nancy's head and concentrated, lifting his hands upwards from her body a few inches, Her head rose up, following the motion of Hugo's hands, and turned to face the crowd. Several of the guests gasped in surprise.

"Is she able to see us?", one of the guys asked.

"Her eyes are rolled into the back of her head!" a woman exclaimed, shuddering, "Oh, it's creepy!"

Indeed, Nancy seemed to be deeply drugged or under some spell, because only the whites of her eyes were visible.

Hugo moved his hands up and down and Nancy's head followed, almost as if he was pulling the string on a puppet, and she was the one being controlled by him.

"Go on," Hugo drawled with a smirk, "Ask her a question, anybody! Let's see how she answers."

A guy shouted out, "How does your boyfriend Hugo make you feel?"

Hugo moved one of his hands over her waist area and moved it around in a circle, and suddenly Nancy writhed and moaned in a rather erotic manner, her hips following the movements of Hugo's hand as he moved it up and down. She cried out suddenly, her body writhing in a fit of pleasure that would have made any woman jealous.

"Holy.." one of the guys exclaimed, and everybody seemed amazed by Hugo's feat.

"Why can't you make me feel like that?", one of the girls demanded, glaring at her boyfriend and the group laughed loudly.

"What?? He's like... like some kind of sorcerer!," her boyfriend stuttered, but she punched him hard in the shoulder.

Hugo proceeded to urge the group on, and the guys shouted out inappropriate questions, to which he either nodded or shook her head like a puppet. Poor Nancy just lay there, appearing unconscious, hardly clothed, and unaware of what a spectacle her own boyfriend was making of her. At one point Hugo even made her entire body levitate about a foot up off the bed before carefully lowering her.

"Nancy!" I called from the doorway, but she didn't hear me. Hugo turned towards me and smiled knowingly, as if there was a secret between us.

"Have you come to join us, Lauren?," he urged, holding out a hand toward me. "Two's a crowd, but three is even better."

The crowd laughed. I knew I couldn't leave Nancy alone with them, and none of the guests looked familiar. I knew most families in our small neighborhood pretty well, having been part of a mom's playgroup when the twins were little. In the trance-like state Nancy was in, who knew what else could happen.

"Leave her alone," I ordered, and Hugo hissed at me, a sound like an angry cat.

I walked over and grabbed ahold of Nancy, holding her beneath the armpits and dragged her off the bed. Her body felt limp and heavy, and I could smell liquor and something else on her. There was a small vial of light brown powder sitting on the table next to the bed, and remembered Hugo had been wearing a necklace with a small glass vial around his neck.

"What did you do to her?" I demanded, nodding at the half empty vial, "Did you drug her or something?"

"Relax, Lauren. We all know Nancy likes to have a good time," Hugo replied, grabbing her legs and pulling her towards him. For a brief moment, we were in a tug of war over my best friend, who was still quite unconscious.

"You're going to rip her in half. Let go, you freak!", I shouted at him, and kicked at Hugo with all my might, aiming low and straight for the groin. He went tumbling backward across the room with a shout of agony. The crowd scattered in half across the room, most of them laughing, some in shock. None of them seemed to know him well enough to care he was hurt, though.

I didn't even know angels could feel that much pain, but apparently Hugo did. I swung Nancy up into my arms like a child then hurried out of the room, literally floating quickly as I could down the staircase. Hugo was incensed and shouted after me that I was ruining everyone's fun, but he was in too much pain to chase after me. I managed to grab a throw blanket on one of the couches and cover Nancy with it on my way through the house and out the door. I flew home with her, since the block was literally dark, and hurriedly carried her upstairs to my room.

Thank goodness all the kids were sound asleep because she was still only half clothed and I had two boys in the house. Nancy was so comatose by then she barely registered that anything that was happening, and I quickly put my bathrobe on her and tucked her into bed. By the time I collapsed onto the armchair in the corner of my room, she was snoring quite loudly.

Nancy woke up at noon the next day, confused, feverish. She just sat and stared blankly at me while downing glass after glass of water, orange juice and Gatorade. I kept trying to hydrate her, worried that maybe Hugo had done some real harm to her last night.

"What happened? Why am I here at your house? Where's all my clothes?" she demanded after a little bit, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I feel like I got hit by a truck."

I collapsed back onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, and told her everything. Minus my encounter with Hugo figuring out I was a Nephilim.

"What?" she exclaimed, moving to a sitting position and brushing her blond hair out of her eyes. "I don't believe you. Why would Hugo drug me? It's not like I wouldn't sleep with him sober. He'd never embarrass me like that. "

I sighed. "I'm not sure if it was drugs he gave you, it was that powder inside the little vial he wears on a chain around his neck, but you were completely limp. He had you laid out half naked on your bed and all these people were watching. I took you here to keep you safe."

"What?" Nancy exclaimed again. "Seriously? Lauren, are you jealous of me or something? I mean, I know you've been through a hard time with James disappearing and all. And I'm not trying to make things harder on you. We're best friends. But this is ridiculous."

I rolled my eyes, "This has nothing to do with jealousy. Hugo's not my type. Do you remember all the guests?" I demanded. "Or were most of them Hugo's friends?"

She shrugged and took a deep drink of coffee from the second mug full I had set in her hands. "No, actually," she said after a moment, "You're right. I only invited people we knew; neighbors and friends from art class and that gym we used to go to, the Crossfit one. Did any of them show up?"

"I didn't recognize anybody at your house last night. There was just this dark feeling everywhere. I couldn't describe it. I had to fight off Hugo to get you out of there."

My best friend's face crumbled into a mixture of disbelief and confusion. After a long moment, she stood up.

"Lauren, we're going to go down to my house to settle this once and for all. If my house was full of strangers and drugs and wild sex like you said, there'll be plenty of evidence. If not, I certainly know you're lying."

She pulled on a long-sleeved shirt of mine I had laid out for her, and tried successfully to button it over her ample bosom then finally sighed and wrapped the throw blanket from her house over herself then stormed out of my room. I followed her downstairs and over to her house. There were still party streamers on the lawn, soaked wet after the sprinklers went on that morning.

"Great," she muttered when we found her front door open. "Let's hope I haven't been robbed."

I was half expecting to see some of her guests lying around hung over or sleeping. She opened the door and switched on the light. The entire front room was clean of debris, and a trash bag full of liquor bottles and red solo cups lay in the corner.

"See?" Nancy exclaimed, shooting me a dark look. "Looks fine to me."

We walked into the kitchen to find the same thing, and a pile of newly washed paint brushes and completed canvases on the kitchen table. Upstairs, all the rooms were in immaculate condition, including her normally hazardous laundry room.

"Seriously, Lauren?" Nancy said, turning to give me a wry look as we walked into her bedroom. "Doesn't look like much of a drug binge to me. You see any needles or lighters lying around? Doesn't even smell like pot in here. The bed's made too."

I just shrugged my shoulders, confused. "I swear, I'm not lying to you, Nancy."

"Whatever, Lauren. When my hangover's gone, we need to have a serious talk, you and I."

Nancy began to rifle through her closet, trying to find something to wear, so I stepped out into the hallway. The back door opened and slammed shut, followed by the sound of footsteps. I hurried downstairs alone, convinced there was an intruder. Hugo walked in, wearing a tight black shirt and jeans, his long black hair swept back in a ponytail.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed at him.

He smirked at me. "You missed out on all the fun last night, Lauren," he hissed in a seductive tone, licking his lips. "We had a full blown love fest going on in there, with all that ecstasy I brought. We even had a few screamers, some little domination games going on. You would have fit right in, angel girl."

"You pervert," I growled at him. "So you did drug her. I told her everything. She's going to dump your sorry angel ass one of these days."

Hugo threw his head back and laughed. "Nice try, Lauren, We know she won't believe you" he hissed as he walked past me toward Nancy, right as she walked into the kitchen. "And I'm not an angel anymore."

My mouth dropped open in shock.

"Hugo, what are you doing here?", Nancy called out from the doorway.

Nancy just stared ahead at him , mesmerized by his toned biceps and flawless appearance. He could have walked straight off the cover of a romance novel, he looked that good.

"Darling, are you all right?" Hugo said in a mock concerned tone, walking over to her with his arms out, "Where did you go last night? You just took off. I was so worried about you I drove up and down the streets looking for you."

He wrapped his strong arms around her, and I watched Nancy sink into them, tossing me a confused look.

"Lauren said I must have been really drunk. She brought me back to her place and I fell asleep there." I heard her mutter. "Hugo, where is everyone from last night? Why is it so clean in here? What the hell happened?"

"I sent all the guests home shortly after you left," Hugo replied, smoothing back a lock of her blond hair, "I've been up since early this morning, cleaning."

Nancy just frowned and stepped back, "Did it get pretty wild here last night? Did you bring any of your friends over? It's just—I heard a few stories, Hugo. A few of our friends called. They were concerned." she lied.

Hugo threw back his head and laughed. "I don't have any friends, Nancy. Nobody can keep up with me. Everything was pretty G-rated from what I recall. Your friends are actually pretty boring. No offense or anything."

Nancy's face relaxed visibly and she sighed with relief. "Oh. I can't believe you cleaned up. Hugo, you're amazing," she declared, hugging him.

Hugo gave me a victorious look over her shoulder. It made me sick how easily he convinced her.

"Sweetheart, you look so tired," he purred at her. "Why don't you take a nice long bath upstairs? I'll make sure Lauren gets home safely."

Nancy was beaming as she left the room and headed upstairs. Hugo's fake smile disappeared the moment she left, and his gaze grew dark and menacing. He leaped over the counter in the middle of her kitchen, and landed right in front of me with a thud, and grabbed for my throat, but I was quick on my feet. I grabbed his arm and swung his feet out from underneath him with a single swift move, easily tossing him backward onto the ground, my foot pinning his chest down. Whoa, I thought, where did that move come from? The old Lauren had never taken more than a few karate classes in her life. I had been pretty out of shape before my transformation.

"I don't care who the hell you are," I hissed. "Stay away from Nancy. Do you hear me?"

Hugo simply pushed me roughly away and jumped up. He circled me like a wolf does its prey, and I followed his every move, my hands clenched in fists, ready to fight.

"No one will keep me from her," he replied in a gruff tone. "Nancy's mine. She belongs to me. Did you really think she would listen to you?"

"Yes," I replied. "She'll listen because she trusts me. I'm her best friend. Like her sister, Hugo. You can't break a bond like that. No matter how hard you try."

Hugo's gaze was dark, ruthless. "Nothing keeps me from what I want. Not even heaven or hell. I should rip your wings right off and give them to Nathaniel."

He rushed at me suddenly, and I flew backwards to the kitchen sink, grabbed a huge carving knife and held it up, ready to defend myself. He circled me around the counter, trying to grab the knife, and I swiped several times at him, yet he always managed to dance just out of the blade's reach.

"Hugo," Nancy called out, only seconds before she burst into the room, wearing nothing but a small towel that hardly concealed her voluptuous body.

I instantly hid the knife behind my back, and Hugo straightened up and moved to the other side of the kitchen island counter in a flash, pretending to be on his cell phone texting. Nancy just stopped and stared at both of us.

"I thought you were walking Lauren home," she said, putting her hands on her hips and staring at Hugo accusingly.

"I had a phone call to take. Lauren said she was going to walk herself home," Hugo lied, staring pointedly at me.

"Maybe you should put down your phone and come take a bath with me " Nancy replied with a pouting look, and winked at me. "Lauren, can you send Henry home around 4 p.m.? I just need to get some rest first."

"Thanks, Lauren," Hugo added, sprouting a victorious look as he walked over and began kissing Nancy in front of me.

I discreetly shoved the carving knife into a drawer next to me. As I walked through the kitchen doors, I looked back and saw Hugo giving me the middle finger, all while still kissing Nancy passionately. It took every ounce of strength I had not to rush over there and pound him into the ground. As I walked back to my house, I realized there was only so much I could do. I couldn't possibly tell Nancy the full truth about Hugo because then that would reveal my secret. I was now a Nephilim, and sworn to secrecy, by the oath I had given to Nathaniel and God. Neither could she possibly believe me, that her boyfriend was a supernatural being. As I walked across my lawn, shoes sinking into the wet grass, I realized I was suddenly in way over my head. It wasn't a good feeling anymore.
Chapter 8

The Rumble

Monday morning came quicker than I expected, the weekend drama fading quickly away. I felt powerful that morning as I headed into The Orange Group. My stride was quick and purposeful, and there was a new, powerful sensation coming out of me. Perhaps it was that morning's early training session with Nathaniel. We had fought each other like enemies, raced each other for miles through the open fields just beyond my neighborhood, and he had taught me my most powerful move yet, how to use my inner force to eject a powerful blast of heat, like a fireball. Yet, at the end of it all, I still couldn't understand why Nathaniel had chosen me, a lonely and now single mother, for this role, to train underneath such a powerful angel as him. We stood on the concrete wall in my backyard, watching the sun finish rising in the sky, catching our breath, steam rising off our bodies and our breath visible in the cold morning air.

"Why this?", I asked suddenly with a doubtful look, "Why me? I used to pour rum in my coffee sometimes just to get through the day. I'm a sales assistant, for Christ sake. I do data entry for a living. "

"God doesn't choose perfect people; you have to understand that. No matter how much James or everyone else your life tore you down, I knew you were capable of greater things. I saved your life because it had purpose. Being a Nephilim is what you were meant to do," he said, with such conviction that I cried.

"Give me your hand," he instructed, and when I held out my right palm he placed a black, sleek looking object in it. It was a HARP, my very own.

"But, these are only for angels, right?", I wondered, wiping at my tears

"You're one of us now. Your training is complete." Nathaniel declared with a smiled, "Wait for my call. We have some serious work to do, you and I. "

"I will," was all I could say as he told me to wait for his call, then flew off into the cool morning sky, disappearing into the thick clouds that signaled another rainstorm was on the horizon.

As I headed into the Orange Group suite and past the front desk exactly two hours later, Sherry dropped a phone call, staring with astonishment. Heading through the Design Department on my way to Client Services, I could literally feel or hear everyone's thoughts, frustrations, and worries, without trying. But it was the new intern that gave off a dark feeling. Her usual smile was replaced by a bitter frown, and she was hunched over a new design that Beth had marked up and ultimately rejected. Her eyes were squeezed shut to hold back tears, and she pressed hard with a fist against her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs.

"I'll never make it here," her thoughts said. "I hate my life. I wish I wasn't alive at all."

The intern's deep depression worried me. For a long moment I stood there, perplexed what I should do. Somebody grabbed my shoulder, and startling me out of my thoughts.

"There you are," Mason's deep voice boomed. At six-foot-three, he towered over me, so I had to look up at him. I could smell the aftershave he'd put on that morning, some popular scent. He smelled good, looking handsome as always.

"Here to save the day for me again?" he said, with a convincing, yet recognizable grin I had encountered many times before.

"Uh, sure," I replied uneasily, walking quicker toward our office. The truth was, I felt eager to escape the dark cloud I'd just been privy to.

Mason struggled to keep pace with me as he continued. "Collins and Bradbury want a full proposal this morning by 10 a.m., and Janet is already breathing down my neck for the last marketing sales report. She wants that stupid Excel spreadsheet today. I almost forgot I have a court meeting in an hour. My ex-wife is fighting for more alimony than she's even worth," he finished as we entered the office, falling heavily into the chair across from my desk, and folding his hands together casually behind his head. I tried to ignore his gaze, irritated as I switched on my computer. Instead of playing along, I decided to cut right to the chase.

"So you want me to cover for you most of the day while you're out of the office today?" I guessed, putting my hands on my hips and staring at him.

Mason looked guilty, a rare occurrence. He adjusted his glasses and then his tie, and finally replied. "Yes. Can you handle it?"

The old Lauren would have agreed to help out because she liked to feel wanted and needed. She would have missed lunch or gotten off work late with no overtime pay, and rarely a thank you. On the drive home, she would have felt overlooked and unappreciated. This time, I decided to give Mason a taste of his own medicine.

"I don't know, Mason," I began casually. "My schedule's already pretty full for the day."

"It is?" he exclaimed, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Well, yeah," I continued, no-nonsense tone. "I have to finish up your other proposal requests from this week, and Janet needs all the sales training manuals collated for Friday's training. There's over seventy-five of them. Plus, I've already asked to meet with her today before I quit."

"You're quitting?" he exclaimed with a hangdog look. "Is everything OK?"

"Of course it isn't. I've been here for three years with no appreciation and empty promises of moving into sales, and it never happens. It's a dead-end job, mostly supporting you, to be honest. I always exceed my goals and make you look good, but does anybody really notice me at the end of the day?"

Mason, always so cool, in control and collected, looked absolutely shocked. His phone rang then and he answered it, holding up a hand at me to wait, that our conversation was not over. But I was done talking, even though I wasn't serious about quitting. I took the pile of sales training manuals off my desk and headed for the printing room, feeling proud of myself. The old Lauren, pre Nephilim, would have never dared to tell anyone where they could hang their hat. When I returned to the office Mason was gone. I had to stop myself from doing a victory dance in the office because Janet, the owner, was walking by.

The morning went by smoothly, free of distractions. Two hours later, I had managed to finish off all the week's proposals, update the marketing sales report, and return a few phone calls to prospects Mason had gathered at a networking function. My purse kept buzzing, which I finally discovered contained my HARP inside. Nathaniel had been texting me messages all morning, and I had forgotten to listen for his call. I cursed at myself softly as I read his messages.

(8:45 a.m.) "Need to talk to the new intern in the art department. She is seriously depressed."

(9:30 a.m.) "Call me. The intern's name is Jenna, and she's thinking of ending her life tonight."

(10 a.m.) "Where are you? She's in the bathroom downstairs crying. You need to get there ASAP."

(11 a.m.) "Meet me on the roof now. She's got a gun in her briefcase and is planning on killing herself at lunch."

I was so stunned by the last message that I dropped the HARP. Luckily, it merely bounced across the floor with a thud. They really are indestructible! I thought gratefully as I retrieved it and made a mad dash for the stairs down the hallway. Scaling four flights of stairs to the roof level seemed a strangely easy feat that day. Nathaniel was already pacing up and down the edge of the building, dressed in a gray hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans and sneakers. He looked less like a divine being and more like a college kid or a street thug.

"It's about time!" he exclaimed as I hurried over. He leaped into the air and landed in front of me so fast that I tripped forward and fell into him.

"Why haven't you been checking your HARP?" he demanded as he caught me with both hands on my shoulders, his ice blue eyes looking extremely frustrated.

"Sorry," I muttered sheepishly as I pulled back and straightened my bangs out of my eyes. "I was busy working and I forgot."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "You'll have to do better than that next time, Lauren. This is not a joke!"

"I know," I replied, feeling foolish "I'm sorry."

"Well, she's already locked herself in the women's bathroom on the third floor, and she's a hysterical mess," he continued worriedly. "She's not only going to kill herself, she's planning on killing Beth as well."

"What?! Why?"

Though Beth was known as a difficult woman to work for, she had always seemed fair and honest and somewhat humane, in my personal knowledge of her.

"Jenna's family lives in India, so she's been missing them a lot. She asked for time off next month to go see them because her mother has been ill. Beth told her to forget about her job if she wanted to go," he said, closing his eyes as he focused stronger on her thoughts. I was mesmerized by the never-ending stream of new abilities he always seemed to display. "She's prone to severe periods of depression, and she can't afford her medications right now."

"What do I do?" I asked, feeling both nervous and confused. My only experience with saving people was keeping Mason's clients from canceling their contracts, not helping suicidal or homicidal coworkers. Other than the jumper I'd saved a few weeks ago, I was a novice when it came to saving lives.

It began to drizzle, and Nathaniel pulled the sweatshirt hood over his bald head.. He looked like an Oracle or a messenger in a science fiction film, his face hidden in shadow by his hoodie, blue eyes glowing brightly.

"Go in there and save her, but don't let her know it's you," he said. "I can't handle this one. You two know each other. It's your mission."

"But how?" I pleaded with him, feeling overwhelmed.

"You'll know what to do when you get there," he finished, and placed a strange looking Blue Tooth type device over one of my ears, and shoved me towards the stairwell.

"Hurry!" he barked. "There isn't much time left!"

What happened after that was like a strange dream—but unlike with most dreams, I was in control. I raced down the stairs inside the building, hurrying for the women's bathroom. I tried to open the door, which was locked, of course.

"Jenna! It's Lauren," I called and banged on the door. There was no reply, but I could hear her cursing inside. I almost slapped myself. Had Nathaniel not just ordered me to reveal who I was? How exactly was I supposed to get inside without kicking down the front door? I slumped against the wall, thinking. Then I found my answer—the men's bathroom. The large room smelled of pine sol, and a black and white tile motif decorated the floors and walls. I had to stop and smirk for a moment, hardly believing this was place where Mason had claimed Robert Orange, one of the owners, had offered him the Client Service Sr. Executive position last year. I could just picture them discussing it over the urinals at the far wall. I came to my senses and pulled open the only window in the bathroom then climbed out onto the ledge just outside the building. The air was freezing, and the wind was really starting to pick up in addition to the light rain. This made it less than ideal conditions for scaling the building. I balanced precariously on the ledge, almost losing my balance when I dared to look down. The ground below was over twenty-five to thirty feet down, and the cars driving below looked like Rodger's matchbox cars he always played with. Shut up and climb, I told myself, and shuffled along the narrow ledge until I found the women's bathroom window. It was tricky ripping the window open, but I managed to punch the glass pane right out of the frame, and send it shattering to the floor inside. I crawled inside and barely managed to roll sideways as I went falling down, almost landing on the shattered glass. I felt awkward, clumsy. Was my mission supposed to be this ridiculous? The bathroom was completely silent. My HARP blue tooth went off then, the annoying ring tone clanging through the porcelain and tile room.

"Jenna?" I called into the darkness as I switched on my Blue Tooth.

"Hello?" I said breathlessly into the wireless device.

"Where are you?" Nathaniel demanded.

"I'm in the women's bathroom," I hissed. "You said not to reveal myself. I had to climb in from the outside of the building. Where is she?"

"You're too late. Get out of there right now," Nathaniel growled, "She's back by her cubicle, and she's going after Beth right now!"

There was no time to lose. I cursed out loud as I raced out of the bathroom and down the hallway toward the Design Department. The HARP was still on, and Nathaniel was shouting instructions in my ear as I ran.

"Hit the lights when you get in the department, so no one sees you," he ordered. "All the light switches are by the front desk to the left. Grab her and get her out of the building without being seen."

I rounded the corner of the hallway in record time. The Creative and Design section of The Orange Group was a huge, collaborative area, separated into brightly colored cubicles. Behind all of them was a giant window that gave an incredible panoramic view of the city. On that particular day, it was quiet and everyone was busy working. Rodney, another intern, glanced up from his desk just as I hit the lights. Despite the sudden darkness, I could see everything perfectly. It was as if I had developed infra-red vision. Jenna was rounding the corner by Beth's desk, over by the window and off to the right. Beth was on the phone, deep in conversation, totally unaware of what was about to happen. She briefly put the call on hold and yelled out for someone to turn the lights back on. Jenna was suddenly less than three feet away, standing behind her boss. Her hands shook as she pulled a gun out from inside her suit jacket, and cocked it, pointing it at Beth's head. I could hear her heart beating wildly, like a toddler pounding madly on a drum. I whispered her name out loud, hoping to distract her. Jenna turned suddenly and looked behind her, seeing me for the first time. I raced at top speed toward Jenna, my wings opening wide as I leaped into the air and came flying toward her. We collided just as the gun went off, and both went tumbling together through the air, and crashing swiftly through the glass window behind. As we freefell out of the building, Jenna slipped out of my grasp and began tumbling downwards toward the street far below. I soared downwards after her, somehow managing to catch her by the legs as she careened away. Her weight almost pulled me down with her, but I desperately beat my wings as hard as I could and held onto her for dear life. Jenna was hysterical by this point, screaming wildly and clawing at the air. The gun was gone, probably having fallen onto the street or into the bushes far below.

"Lauren!" a voice behind me boomed. I had never been so relieved to see Nathaniel. He was waiting by the building next to the Orange Group, his wings fluttering rapidly as he gravitated in place and motioned me over. As soon as I arrived, he leaned down and grabbed Jenna, flipping her right side up like she was a rag doll. She was still completely mad, and attacked him, clawing and kicking at him. Nathaniel expertly put a hand to her forehead and she instantly became unconscious. Nice, I thought, wondering if that was a skill that might come in handy with my parenting adventures.

"I'll take over from here," he said, tossing her now limp body over his shoulder. "Good work."

As he started flying off, he paused and looked back at me. "Your Bluetooth device," he warned. "You dropped it by the broken window inside. Never leave that laying around. Clean yourself up before you go inside."

Without another word, he was gone, flying off into a heavy group of clouds with Jenna in tow. I flew back onto the Orange Group building and landed in a rain puddle on the roof with a heavy thud. I was completely exhausted, and my feet gave way beneath me. I lay for a long time on the dirty concrete, the rain soaking my face, hair and clothes, and stared up at the rain clouds above. Somewhere up there was heaven, the place Nathaniel was from. I wondered how a plain, simple woman like me had managed to get caught up with this whole mess in the first place.

It was nearly a half hour later when I managed to pick myself up and retreat to the bathroom. My suit jacket was completely destroyed from loosening my wings, and I had scratches on my face. Luckily, Nathaniel had left behind his gray sweatshirt, so I wore that. The Creative Department was a complete disaster. Someone had finally turned the lights on, but the wind and rain was pouring relentlessly into the building through the broken frame. In my grand tumbling act, I had completely shattered the entire glass window. Most of the staff was racing to cover their computers and capture all the paperwork blowing through the area. Beth was sitting in the corner, crying hysterically. I spotted my Bluetooth device in the corner, next to a large trashcan. As I reached down to grab it, her eyes locked on me and narrowed.

"Where were you all this time?" she asked accusingly.

Saving your life, I wanted to retort sarcastically, but I knew better than to tell her the truth

"Out meeting a client," I lied, and backed quickly out of there, worried she would put two and two together. I hurried back into my office, slamming the door shut behind me with a sigh of relief and fatigue. It was almost two o'clock, and Mason was still gone. I wondered exactly how crazy his court battles had been. There was a bouquet of yellow daisies and an unsealed card sitting on my desk. It must be for him, from one of his new girlfriends, I thought. Since he wasn't there, I slipped open the card and read it.

"To Lauren," it read. "I hope you reconsider staying here. Work wouldn't be the same without you. Thanks for putting out all the fires. I'm sorry if I've caused you any trouble. Love, Mason."

I sunk onto my office chair, stunned. I couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever sent me flowers at work, or even just sent me flowers, period. It had been a crazier day than I'd ever imagined possible, but I certainly wasn't bored with my life anymore.
Chapter 9

Unclear Visions

After my last encounter with Hugo, Nancy had gone completely silent. One night, I logged onto her social media account. Nancy had always been well known for her wild attitude and sarcastic humor. Crude jokes, funny memes and interesting photos were her style. The last post was two weeks ago, and was a quick photo of her and Hugo, taken with his cellphone camera. Hugo had his arm around her shoulders and was beaming confidently, his long flowing black hair and well-trimmed goatee rivaling a cult leader. He had this incredible energy flowing out of him. Nancy simply gazed at the camera, almost expressionless. She had on a black dress with spaghetti straps, her hair bleached a California blond color, her skin bronzed from a tanning bed. She was voluptuous and beautiful in a way that sometimes made me jealous, at least before I had become a Nephilim. But there was something that worried me about Nancy in that photo. It was the circles under her eyes, and the blank expression on her face. She didn't seem happy anymore. I clicked on previous pictures Nancy had posted, before meeting Hugo. Every photo was full of happiness, smiles, joy, and curiosity, mischief. What had happened to my best friend? I picked up the phone to talk to her, but it went straight to voicemail, so I sent her a text. Then I logged off of my phone and went to sleep for the night.

Nancy finally answered my call two days later, leaving a voicemail that sounded about as lifeless as the last photo she'd taken with Hugo. I left the kids with pizza for dinner and walked the half a block to her house. There were cobwebs in the entrance, and the plants on her front porch were dying and wilted. The light on the front porch flickered off and on in a random fashion. Nancy answered the door on the fourth ring, when I was about fed up and ready to go home.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise upon seeing me. "You didn't call to tell me you were coming or anything."

"I was going for a walk and wanted to see if you were OK," I replied, glancing around the dark, creepy porch with the flickering lights. "Are you still decorating for Halloween? That was like over a month ago," I teased.

Nancy opened the door the door slowly with a sigh. "Ha, ha. I just haven't gotten around to changing the lightbulb yet," she muttered lethargically. "Well, come on in since you're here. Would you like some coffee or tea, a shot of tequila or rum?"

I chuckled. "Guess I'll take some coffee."

The house was rather dim as I walked in, and I noticed it was in a state of abnormal disarray. Nancy was organized for the most part, so I was surprised to see magazines, unopened mail and other papers strewn all over the wooden table in the front room, dust on the picture frames and trinkets she collected, and the floor was dusty, with the occasional puff of dog hair floating by. The mirror hanging on the wall was slightly crooked, so I reached over and set it straight. The disarray was driving my inner OCD wild, so I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn't my house or my problem.

"Sorry. I've been so busy with work and other things that I haven't done much cleaning the last two weeks," Nancy admitted as she wandered into her kitchen. Dirty dishes filled the sink and empty beer bottles littered the counter. I looked over and saw that the couch was a mess of blankets and pillows, and there were two empty wine bottles, an ash tray overflowing with cigarette butts, and the house smelled like a mixture of pot, cigarette smoke, and something else I couldn't identify. I then glanced at Nancy, who was busy making coffee, wondering if she had been binge drinking. A vision floated into my head. Nancy and Hugo were sitting on the couch mid-afternoon on an earlier day. He was literally coaxing her to drink shots of liquor and smoke a joint with him. When she tried to push it away, he would urge. "Come on, baby. It'll make you feel better. More relaxed."

At one point, he grabbed her chin roughly in his hands and forced her to look deep into his eyes, hypnotizing her. I watched as the fight drained out of her, and he gave her instructions to accept whatever he offered her. Nancy choked a bit on the glass of Scotch he gave her, but drank it down. They smoked drugs I didn't recognize that had an acrid scent. Once he gave her magic mushrooms. Nancy raced through the dark streets at night for hours, hallucinating, trying to find Hugo, while he laughed at her from afar. She had that same vague, lifeless look in her eyes I had seen before on their photo, just before the vision faded away from my mind.

"Nancy, are you OK?" I finally dared to ask her.

"Of course," she muttered as she set the coffee maker to brew. "Look, I told you I just haven't been able to get around to cleaning much lately," she lied. "I've been busy working and with a couple of other things."

"Like binge drinking and sleeping on the couch?" I replied, holding up the empty Scotch bottle and then instantly regretted my boldness. Nancy turned beet red, but managed to reply. "We can't all be Martha Stewart like you," and she began filling up the sink with soap, scrubbing down the dishes, "Look, I'm cleaning up. Does that make you feel better now?"

"Give me a break, Nancy," I pleaded. "My life is far from perfect. My husband's off wandering around Singapore probably with some new girlfriend, Sarah got suspended from school for smoking pot last week, and I nearly got written up at my job a few days ago, for falling asleep on my desk. Oh, and I got in a fight with someone walking to my car a few nights ago." I pulled up the back of my shift to show her some leftover bruises from my recent adventure. Tumbling out of a window at top speed tackling Jenna hadn't been kind to me, despite being half angel.

"Holy cow," Nancy muttered, gently poking at the bruise. "Did you get attacked by somebody, or a wild animal?"

"Some thug wanted my purse and my car keys," I lied. "I managed to hit him over the head with my purse and get away before it got really out of control."

Nancy's eyes widened in surprise. It was then that I realized how eerily quiet the house was. Normally the TV or a video game system was droning in the background.

"Where's Henry?" I asked, referring to her six-year-old son.

"He's staying with his father for a while," she replied as she started washing the huge pile of dirty dishes.

"Mike's house?" I repeated. "I thought you had an order of protection against him?"

"It expires in a week anyway. I just needed a break, you know? Just for a while. Besides, Henry really misses his dad."

"Mike used to hit you in front of him," I reminded her. "Aren't you worried he'll start hitting Henry?"

"He'd never hit his own son," Nancy insisted. "Trust me. I talk with Henry every night. He's absolutely fine. He'd tell me right away if something happened. We video chat."

I grabbed a dish towel and started drying the dishes as she rinsed them off and set them in the dish drainer.

"What's wrong, Nance?" I asked suddenly. "This is not like you. Are you depressed or something?"

"I'm fine," she replied," but didn't return my gaze. "I'm just doing some soul-searching, I guess. I don't know, Lauren. It all seems so pointless."

"What does?"

"All of this. Take my job, for example. I crunch numbers all day long and it makes no difference to anybody. I haven't had a real vacation anywhere in years, and this neighborhood is so damn fake. All of our neighbors are either obsessed with their child's schooling or popularity, or all they care about is clothes, money and plastic surgery. It's like living in an artificial world, Lauren. Nothing's real anymore!"

"So you're binge drinking and doing drugs? To deal with that?" I countered.

"Look. Hugo and I got wasted the other night. And it's just pot, Lauren. Don't tell me you've never kicked back and enjoyed an occasional joint?"

I blushed, recalling how James and I had decided to share a joint back when we were nineteen on the patio of his mom's house. She was traveling out of state for work, and we felt brave and reckless, having the whole place to ourselves. James and I had gotten pretty high, eating snacks and laughing hysterically about everything. Then we laid out on a blanket on the bare lawn, where we made love for the next two hours. That was how I accidently got pregnant with the twins, looking up at the stars in a pot filled gaze, while Journey blasted from his mom's stereo in the background. I missed James suddenly, and I missed being a wife. Nothing would ever be the same again.

"Are you happy with Hugo?" I asked suddenly, trying to change the subject.

"What kind of a question is that?" Nancy demanded.

"You don't seem very optimistic. Does he make you happy at all?" I continued, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Hugo makes me see my life for what it really is," she replied, handing me a clean, wet bowl to dry. "He's very philosophical. He's opened up my eyes to reality. I'm so grateful for him. God, Lauren. I was such a bimbo before! All I ever did was go out partying, drinking, and flirting. I don't know how I was ever really happy with all that stuff"

A chill swept through me. How could I possibly tell Nancy about Hugo—who he really was? My wings itched in my back, and I hurried into her bathroom and locked the door to pull myself together briefly. I looked into the mirror, debating my options. Was there any possible way to reveal the truth that her boyfriend was not human, without exposing the fact that I had become a Nephilim? I remembered that semi warm day in the kitchen, sitting across from Nathaniel after my transformation. He had warned that I could never, ever reveal my powers to anyone, and that my very life depended on it. I pictured Nancy's potential reaction if I revealed the truth to her. She'd either faint in shock or run out of there screaming. Nancy had a notorious reputation for wearing her emotions on her sleeve, which made for an exciting friend, but it made coming out with hard truths almost unbearable. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, threw water on my face and dried it off.

"She's your friend, Lauren," I told myself sternly, "Don't break her heart. Don't do it."

I came back into the kitchen to find the dishes done, and Nancy had out a fresh bottle of Rum. She smiled and poured two shot glasses, handing me one. It was a peace offering, and the smile meant we were still the best of friends. The liquor burned as it slid down my throat.

"Don't you miss James?" she asked me suddenly growing serious. "I don't get it. I mean, you seemed devastated when he left, but not anymore. You're on top of the world or something. I don't get it."

"I guess I just found a higher purpose in life," I muttered.

"I sure could use some of that," she continued. "I don't know why, but everything just feels so empty inside when Hugo's not around. Like nothing else makes sense anymore. Oh my God, Lauren. What if I'm really in love with him? I mean, I've never really felt like this with any of the other guys I've dated since my divorce."

She poured another shot and gulped it down.

"Then why are you so depressed?" I countered. "Whose idea was it to send Henry away with his father? Was it Hugo's?"

"Look, he's right. I needed a mommy break. Henry was just way over attached to me. He needs to get a little more macho, you know?"

"Henry's six," I objected. "He's too young for being macho. He hasn't even hit puberty yet. Nancy, when was the last time you talked with your other friends?"

Nancy just shrugged, unable to meet my gaze. "So what? They haven't called me in a while either. Hugo was right. It's not like they really care about me."

"Don't you see what he's doing to you?" I continued. "Nancy, he's isolating you from everyone; from your friends and your son. That's dangerous."

Nancy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Hugo and I are deeply in love. It's really common when that happens for other people not to understand. And I love him. I think I really do."

I poured myself another shot, trying to hide my growing dismay. How else could I tell my best friend that Hugo was poisoning her mind? Or admit that he wasn't human, and likely was at least part demon, or whatever? At that point, I started drinking straight from the liquor bottle.

"Whoa. Slow down there, missy!" Nancy exclaimed, grabbing the bottle from me with a shocked look.

"You starting to mourn James or something?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shook my head, and chuckled. "James is never coming back, Nancy. I've come to accept that now. I'm OK with it, actually."

"Look, Nancy, Hugo's not good for you," I finally managed. "You've changed since you two got together. You've given up custody of Henry, you're depressed, and smoking and drinking. Please, don't do this anymore. He's going to destroy your life."

Nancy sighed and gave me an infinitely sad look. "I've made up my mind, Lauren. I can't live without Hugo. I need him. He's moving in here next week."

"Are you getting married?" I wondered.

Nancy laughed. "I don't believe in marriage anymore, Lauren. I believe in fate. Hugo is my fate, and we're destined to be together."

I didn't talk about Hugo anymore. There was no point to it. I just sat with Nancy and we drank that night, talking about life, James, our past relationships, until she fell on the couch. I grabbed a blanket and put it over her, then I swept her floors and cleaned up before leaving. I was sad as I walked back home, well past midnight. It was becoming clear that no amount of warning could make Nancy realize that Hugo was tearing her life apart. She was so in love with him that she couldn't see reality anymore. I felt like a failure as I went to sleep that night. Here I was, with these incredible powers, and I couldn't even save my best friend from disaster.
Chapter 10

The Beginning to an End

The heavy knock on my front door came at the worst possible time. I was trying to make dinner, the twins were arguing over what TV show to watch, and Rodger was feverish and crying, making everything that much more impossible. To top it all off, Nathaniel kept texting my HARP, and I was trying hard to ignore him. At first, I tried to avoid the doorbell that rang afterwards, figuring it was just a pesky neighbor. But one of the twins answered it. I heard several gruff sounding male voices talking.

"Is my mom in trouble or something?" I heard Matthew ask in his awkward teenage voice, slightly cracking.

I barely had time to wash my hands from marinating the meat before three cops came walking into the kitchen, their boots clicking loudly on the clean, spotless tile floor. I'd been up late again cleaning, furiously scrubbing my kitchen floor last night. This was a strange habit of mine, something I usually did in a desperate attempt to restore some sort of order or control to my life. Two of the officers were over six feet tall, wearing long sleeved uniforms and hats to shield them from constant rainstorms while on duty. One of them had a cowboy style belt buckle Rodger kept staring curiously at (at least he had stopped crying now), and the other had a thick mustache that wound its way above and around the edge of his mouth like a caterpillar. I had to resist the urge to tell him he had something growing on his lip. It was a joke our family used to say to my cousin, who had managed to grow and wax an impressive mustache during his college years.

"Mrs. Heinz," one of them said, tipping his hat at me politely. I noticed their boots had left black streaks on the tile. That was going to mean another floor washing tonight, I thought, shuddering inwardly.

"What do you need, officers?" I asked.

"We're here about Nancy Mueller. I believe she's a close friend of yours?" he said casually, leaning against the kitchen counter with one arm.

At the sound of Nancy's name, my blood ran cold. After the last time I had seen her in the church and witnessed her depression, I was still worrying about her. She hadn't replied to any of my recent calls or texts either.

"Yes. Is she OK?" I asked. "I haven't heard from her in almost a week."

The police officer who was talking to me took off his hat, with a sympathetic look. I should have seen it as a warning he was about to deliver bad news. He told me Nancy had been found dead that morning, floating along the top of a water tower only 5 miles away from our neighborhood. The police suspected she had died a few days earlier.

"What?" I exclaimed, my heart leaping up into my chest, and my stomach beginning to churn. "Is this a joke?"

"No ma'am," he said softly.

I collapsed onto my knees, sobbing, feeling as though my chest had been ripped from my heart. My best friend from the last seven years was dead, just like that. It took a while for the cops and my kids to calm me down to the point I was able to talk coherently. One of the cops actually poured me a glass of brandy and had me sit down. I immediately told them the whole story about her and Hugo, of course leaving out the fact that he was not human. I knew nobody would believe that part and the last thing I wanted was for the police to think I was mentally unsound.

"So you think maybe this boyfriend of hers had something to do with it?" the cop concluded.

"Yes! Hell, yes," I exclaimed. "It was like he sucked the life and all the joy out of her. I hardly ever saw Nancy so hopeless and depressed. That last time were together, we were in church. She looked completely defeated. I begged her to stay with me, but Hugo showed up and basically walked her out of there."

"Nancy had bruises around her neck consistent with someone drowning her," another one of the cops said suddenly. "Is there anyone else who you suspect might be at fault other than her boyfriend?"

"Maybe her ex-husband?" I guessed. "He used to drink a lot. They weren't really on friendly terms, to be honest."

The police took down my statement and left. I couldn't stop crying once they'd left the house. I was hysterical with grief, and exhausted. That night, I fell asleep with Rodger and Sarah on my bed, both clinging protectively to me.
Chapter 11

Unpleasant Surprises

I was arrested three days later, for the first time in my life. It was the most humiliating thing to ever happen to me. My arms ached from being handcuffed as I was led into a police car, and the cops headed out onto the highway, toward the nearest police station. It was storming outside as usual, and the officers had the heat in the police car cranked up so high that I was starting to sweat.

The Police had showed up at my door randomly that morning. They handcuffed me in front of my children, informing me that I was being taken down to the station for questioning. I was now a prime suspect in Nancy's death. Thankfully, Sarah and Matthew had managed to call my mother, and she was on the way to my house before I was taken away. The worst part was seeing the kids, especially Rodger, crying. Sarah had pleaded with them to let me go, insisting there was no possible way I could have been involved in Nancy's death.

As we sped down the highway, I tried desperately to explain everything to the cops from where I sat in the backseat. One of them responded by turning up the volume on the radio until it drowned out my voice, and they were both soon immersed in conversation with one another. As I watched the raindrops fall down the car window, I began to wonder at the strange turn of events. Was it somehow possible I could be partially at fault for her death? Perhaps if I had tried harder to get her to see the truth about Hugo, things would have been different.

We arrived at the police station and the officers booked me in, took fingerprints, more documentation and a mug shot. I was placed in a small interrogation room with nothing but a table and several chairs, fluorescent ceiling lights, and a mirror on the wall. They handcuffed both my hands in front of me, and attached the handcuffs to a chain bolted to the chair I sat in. Then they left. I sat there waiting, and after a while I fell asleep. The door creaking open woke me up. A tall officer in a dark police uniform came in and sat down. From the moment I saw him, I was on edge. There was something strange about him, and it wasn't just the crooked part he had on his balding head. He had wide, almost too alert eyes, and what seemed to be a constant smirk on his face. It creeped me out.

"You awake yet?" he asked as he plopped down onto a chair across the table from me, and chuckled to himself.

I sat up, yawning, and tried to look as serious as possible, despite my fatigue.

"I haven't done anything wrong," I insisted. "You can't hold me here against my will without any proof at all. It's unconstitutional."

"It's unconstitutional," the cop mocked me in a child-like voice, tilting his head back and forth while he talked.

"Look, you really need to let me go home," I tried again, concentrating hard to use every single ounce of my angel powers to persuade him. Except, this time it didn't work.

"Nice try," he muttered, and pulled out a package of cigarettes, put one between his lips and lit it then offered me one, which I declined. He tossed the pack on the table between us, and took a deep drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke in my direction.

"So we investigated this Hugo Valdurez who you claim was romantically involved with your friend Nancy," he began slowly. "He doesn't exist."

"That's because Hugo isn't human," I retorted without thinking and then immediately shut my mouth.

The cop just gave me a strange look and started to laugh, almost too hard.

"You're crazy. Loca," he replied, pointing his half-smoked cigarette at me to emphasis his point. Hot ash from the cigarette had fallen on the top of his other hand. It was just sitting there, flickering, burning on his flesh. He began to continue talking, a monologue about pathological liars, about how he's known quite a few people to kill their best friends/spouses, out of jealousy and lie about it.

"Why would I do that?" I retorted. "What could possibly make me want to kill her? I'm not jealous of her. I never was."

"She's much prettier than you," he replied, trying to sound convincing. "I saw Nancy's photo. Believe me, she wasn't a bad looking woman at all." He chuckled and almost snorted, like a lonely old man looking at a dirty magazine.

So I'm just old and haggard looking? I wanted to say, but I kept quiet. Instead, I stared at the smoldering hot ash on his hand, wondering why he felt no pain. It was cooking the skin, and the smell of burning flesh slowly filled the air.

"Your hand's burning," I finally announced. He glanced down and flicked the hot ash off without concern. There was a painful looking, blistering red sore where the hot ash had been, but he didn't even seem to notice it. Then, suddenly, the sore disappeared as if it had never been there before. That was my first clue.

"You're not a human, are you?" I finally asked.

I yanked silently on my handcuffs, but they wouldn't break free or open, no matter how hard I tried. I didn't get it. My Nephilim powers suddenly seemed useless.

"About time you figured it out," he replied suddenly, and began to convulse right there in front of me. He transformed into a hideous looking being, half human and half devil, with narrow eyes, pointy ears, and two horns growing out of his forehead. The forked tongue he had freaked me out the most. His throat made a raspy noise as he breathed, the tongue flowing in and out of his mouth like a serpent.

"If you'd just kept your mouth shut about Hugo, you wouldn't be here," he declared, leaning forward on the table.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, trying to keep a serious face to distract him, all the while desperately trying to undo the handcuffs that bound me to the chair.

"Your soul," he answered instantly, and without effect.

"What?" I exclaimed. "Why would you need that?"

"You're a Nephilim. Your existence has disturbed the entire balance of power," he replied slowly, narrowing his eyes at me. "The Nephilim were intentionally wiped off the face of earth hundreds of years ago. The great flood was created to purge the planet of them. They caused too many problems for everyone."

"You mean the great flood like the one Noah built the ark for?" I replied in surprise.

"Yes. The Nephilim took humans and mixed animal and plant DNA into them, and did many other strange experiments. They had plans to take over the world, and heaven and hell," he continued slowly, and his eyes shone with fierce anger. "They are a disgrace to the spirit world."

I pulled nervously again on my handcuffs and cringed, "Look, I didn't ask to become a Nephilim. It just happened to me."

He stood, towering above me. "Nobody just becomes a Nephilim. You're either born a Nephilim or not."

"Well, I was a regular human being not too long ago," I replied. "An angel saved me, and then I changed."

He narrowed his eyes. "Who saved you? What angel?"

"I don't know. He just took off afterwards," I lied, trying not to even think of Nathaniel, in case the cop could read my mind. Breaking the oath I'd taken in front of Nathaniel was the last thing I intended to do.

The cop pulled out a huge, long knife and just stared at me.

"What are you going to do with that?" I demanded.

"I'm going to cut your heart out," he replied slowly, admiring the shiny steel blade. He nicked the end of his finger with the blade, drawing blood.

I panicked and hyperventilated, pulling at the handcuffs frantically, and then he came lunging forward across the table at me at lightning speed. I managed to fall back in my chair and roll to the side. The knife narrowly missed me as he brought it down hard, trying to stab me. I rolled out of the chair my handcuffs were still attached to and used it to knock him back . Then I ducked under the table, pulling the chair up against the table to create barrier for myself. The knife came crashing down through the wooden table, narrowly missing my head by a few inches, then again. Before he could try to stab me a third time, I pushed the table I was underneath up into the air, sending him and the object flying backward across the room. I ran to the opposite side of the room, still dragging the chair behind me, and tried frantically to open the door that was there, but it was locked. The demon cop stood up, breathless, bleeding, furious. He began to look for the knife, and at the same time, we both spotted it several feet away, right below the huge mirror that hung on the wall. The mirror was actually a one-sided window allowing those in the next room to watch and listen as suspects were interrogated, and not be seen by the suspects. Simultaneously, we both began racing toward the knife, dove for it. The mirror/window on the wall shattered with a loud crash, and Nathaniel came crashing down amongst us, having jumped through the glass. He was holding what almost looked like a samurai sword, and swung it quickly, slicing right through the cop's neck with one swift movement. The demon screamed as he collapsed, blood spurting everywhere. I watched in surprise as the blood and his corpse turned to dust, then just disappeared. Aside from the wrecked room and broken furniture and glass everywhere, it was just me and Nathaniel.

"What the hell was that all about?" I demanded. "How did you find me?"

"Step back and hold your hands apart" Nathaniel instructed, breathless with beads of sweat rolling down his bald held.

He cut my handcuffs in half with one swing of his sword, then the chain that bound me to the chair.

"I don't get it. Why couldn't I break out of those handcuffs? My powers just went useless," I exclaimed.

He picked them up and examined them, "They must be made of copper. It's the one metal angels have no power against. Only another angel would know that, though. I wonder who put all these cops and demons up to this.:

Nathaniel moved away and kicked the locked door open, then held his sword ready.

"Stay behind me," he ordered. "This place is crawling with demons."

We ran down the hallway outside the interrogation room and headed for the stairs. Several demons came racing around the corner towards us. They were hideous, and hadn't even bothered to disguise themselves as cops or humans.

"Go! Now!" Nathaniel shouted at me, nearly pushing me down the stairs. He turned to face the demons head on. I ran down flight after flight of stairs, heading toward the parking lot level of the police building. Nathaniel caught up with me just as I hurried into the parking lot, pulling me towards a red truck. As I opened the passenger side door there was a huge crash. The parking lot door that lead to the stairs went crashing down, and a whole crowd of demons raced out towards us.

"Get in!" Nathaniel yelled. "Lock the doors!".

He barely managed to start the engine and pulled the car out of park when they reached us. Some of the demons dove across the hood of the truck and up the windshield, trying to pull themselves up so they could climb on top of the car and get inside through the open sunroof. Nathaniel stepped on the gas and spun the car around, knocking most of them off, except one that was clinging to the front of the car. He then drove straight toward a beam in the parking lot, crushing the demon between the beam and his car. Demons began jumping into the bed of the pickup truck. One of them smashed a hole into the window behind our seats. Nathaniel sped up and swerved back and forth throughout the parking lot, trying unsuccessfully to knock him off the vehicle.

"Take over the wheel!" he shouted at me. He stood up on his seat facing the back of the car, with the top half of his body through the truck's open sunroof. Nathaniel unsheathed his sword and began swinging, killing the remaining demons instantly. We were still being heavily chased by the remaining demons as we exited the parking lot

A heavy storm was rolling into town. Thunder and lightning crashed, illuminating an otherwise dark night. Something was moving down between the heavy rain clouds, and I realized it was an entire army of angels, descending down to battle the demons. Nathaniel pressed down on the gas pedal and the truck engine trembled and roared as we headed down the road.

"Are we still being followed?" I asked about ten minutes later. Nathaniel shook his head.

"It's been taken care of," he replied.

As we approached the highway, I looked back towards the police station, at the war between the angels and demons. It looked like a giant firework display, so much power and electricity surging through such a small area at once. Then, there was a giant explosion, and the whole area lit up with blue electricity and smoke.

"This has to be Hugo's fault. He's the only one I can think of that would have put a whole group of demons up to all this" Nathaniel said with an angry look in his eyes as he continued driving, "Your friend Nancy would still be alive if it wasn't for him."

"So what are you going to do about it?" I asked.

"I don't have the slightest idea right now," he muttered, sounding disgusted with himself.

Nathaniel drove me home and after the kids fell asleep we sat outside my house for hours, watching and waiting for more demons. We must have seemed like an interesting pair to passersby, a hulking bald angel drinking straight from a coffee pot and a frazzled Mom nursing her bottle of vodka. Eventually we both fell asleep, drunk and traumatized. It certainly wasn't how I wanted my week to end, but I was relieved to at least be alive.
Chapter 12

All That is Lost.

Nancy's funeral was held the following Thursday morning at St. James Cathedral, a historic church in Seattle that was famous for its enormous skylight and beautiful stained glass windows. After my grisly, near death encounter at the police station, I was honestly scared to go. But my loyalty and love for my best friend made me push through that. I put on my best black dress and got the kids ready. They were only excited about the skipping school part, especially because they knew Nancy. No child likes to think of any adult in their world dying.

Right before we headed out the front door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was shocked at the change I'd gone through since becoming a Nephilim. I had slimmed down and toned up considerably. I didn't have that sad look anymore, and my face was thinner with a ruggedness to it, my eyes had a fire to them. The black cocktail dress I'd dug out of my closet fit my curves nicely. Nathaniel's constant training and ridiculous rescue missions had transformed me.

Wow! I found myself thinking. Is this really me? Luckily, Sarah interrupted me from my brief moment of narcissism.

"Yeah, yeah," she declared. "You look like a hot model, Mom. Can we go now? I don't want to stay forever at Nancy's funeral. There's a movie on at one o'clock I want to see."

I grabbed my overcoat, and hurried out the door after her. Matthew was sitting in the front passenger seat of the car, and made a face as I climbed in.

"Can't you cover up more?" he demanded. "All my friends are going to be checking you out now. It's creepy."

I looked at my neckline, which amply covered my cleavage, and gave him a quizzical look. "Would you like me to wear a full body veil instead?" I asked.

"Maybe you should just go back to be boring, like before; when Dad was still here" Matthew snapped, with an angry look in his eyes. "Everybody stares at you now."

I tried to hold back laughter as I started my car. My oldest son was now griping about my beauty. I never, ever thought I'd have a problem like that.

The church was crowded when we arrived, but some of the neighbors saved us half a pew. Nancy's funeral wasn't as beautiful as I thought it would be, perhaps because her ex-husband Mike had arranged the whole thing. Nancy had been a foster child until age 16, when she became an emancipated minor and met Mike in college. Sadly, he was the closest thing to family she'd ever had, and he had abused her for years before she gathered the courage to leave him. It was clear Mike had a little vendetta going against Nancy still when he planned the funeral. The organist played music that sounded like a bad Lutheran church hymn. The flowers were a pasty off-white and pink, and many of them were already starting to wilt. Mike must have found the worst possible photo of Nancy and then put that one up in the lobby. Nancy was at her heaviest weight ever, having just given birth to their son, and still wearing braces on her teeth. She was standing out along the pier by the ocean, smiling awkwardly as the sun hit her eyes at an awkward angle, causing her to cringe. A heavy wind was blowing her hair all over the place, so she looked like a hot mess.

Mike was standing on the other side of the church, and was dressed casually in a blue polo shirt and khaki shorts, tennis shoes, and a baseball cap. He looked like he had just left a round of golf and come straight to the funeral. Neighbors and friends were crying and offering their condolences, embracing Henry, the child Nancy had raised with Mike. Henry couldn't stop whimpering and crying, yet Mike didn't even seem visibly upset. His phone buzzed, and as he turned away to check it, his face broke into a wicked grin as he eagerly texted back. For the next fifteen minutes, he was so caught up in texting that he didn't even notice Henry falling apart next to him. I left the pew and headed over there. The red-headed boy was sobbing uncontrollably, visibly shaking.

"I want my mom back," he kept crying.

I sat down next to Henry and put my arms around him, letting him cry against me. A warm glow flowed out of me and embraced him.

"It's going to be OK," I whispered, wiping the tears from Henry's freckled, pink cheeks. "Your mother is safe in heaven. Sleep now, OK? She sent some angels to watch over you."

Henry nodded, and a moment later, he was snoring. Mike looked over at me, startled.

"What happened to him?" he demanded as he walked over and stared at his sleeping son. "What did you do to my boy?"

"Nothing," I replied calmly. "He's sleeping because he's so overwhelmed and exhausted. I came over because he was crying and he literally collapsed in my arms when I gave him a hug."

Fortunately, Henry let out a loud snore, and Mike visibly relaxed as he picked up his son. "What time did he fall asleep last night?" I asked.

Mike muttered something about midnight as he carried him away, moving to the opposite side of the pew. The moment he sat down his phone began buzzing again, and he resumed his same, obsessive texting pattern. He's probably sexting somebody, I thought, feeling furious. I looked in his direction, concentrating as hard as I could. Mike's phone began to vibrate wildly in his hands, to the point he couldn't control it, and the device slipped away, landing on the floor. Fortunately for him, it had a pretty sturdy case around it, so it didn't break. It continued to vibrate so wildly that it literally started bouncing across the floor, away from him. Mike reached for it several times, but it always bounced just out of his grasp and then went into the main aisle of the church. Just as he rose to grab it, one of our neighbors came rolling by in an electric wheelchair, blocking his path. There was a magnificent crunching sound as the heavy-duty wheelchair crushed the cellphone. Mike's jaw dropped wide open, but the neighbor simply rolled on by, oblivious to what he'd done. I had to work hard to refrain from standing and cheering. I hid my smile behind the funeral program on the bench next to me as the funeral service began. Matthew whined about being bored, and Rodger climbed under our pew and out behind us, soldier style. I braced myself. It was going to be a long, tedious day.

After the church service, I dropped the kids off at home and went to the burial at the cemetery. While the priest read Bible verses and said prayers for Nancy's soul, I felt a strange aching in my heart and sudden, intense loneliness. Nancy had been the one person that really knew me best, and now she was gone forever. My heart and stomach trembled with fear as I realized that with James and Nancy gone I was finally, completely all alone.
Chapter 13

The Battle on the Bridge

I didn't expect to get caught in traffic driving over the Seattle Bay, mid-day. It just happened. Several days after Nancy's funeral, I left work early to deliver gift baskets to several of the Orange Group's favorite clients. Unfortunately there was construction on the Bay Bridge, and everyone sat in gridlock. I switched on the radio and one of my favorite songs came on. It was a song Nancy and I used to sing to as we drove to the beach, on the rare occasion we were able to find a babysitter for our kids or both had a day off. I started singing along with it, tears streaming down my face at the memories. Nancy and I were like the sisters one another never had growing up- we were both the only children in our families and she was an orphan. She used to drag me into doing things that I wouldn't normally do: rock climbing, belly dancing, and one time she even took me to a sex toys party, although I nearly died of embarrassment.

I sighed and switched off the radio. There was a whistling sound that kept coming closer, and then a tremendous crash as something heavy landed onto the front of my car. I cursed under my breath as I looked up, shaking. A being had fallen straight down onto the front hood of my car. Rather, he had used it as his landing pad, denting it substantially. He was wearing black clothing and was kneeling on my car, crouched like a sprinter at the start line. It was hard to make out who the person was at first because he held his head so low. My blood ran cold when I realized

who it was. Hugo had come back for me, now that Nancy was gone.

I honked my car horn over and over, almost violently. Hugo's eyes frightened me. Unlike all the angels I knew, Nathaniel included, they weren't bright and full of life and hope. Hugo's eyes were black, empty circles. The honking just seemed to infuriate the people in front of me. I was confused. Couldn't any of them see Hugo? That's when I remembered Nathaniel's warnings. Becoming a Nephilim had changed my abilities, meaning I could now see things that most humans couldn't. He had once said it was like a pathway to another dimension. Hugo jumped down and landed next to the front passenger side door. He moved so quickly it almost seemed impossible. I did manage to lock all the car doors, though, but it didn't work. Hugo simply chuckled as he opened the passenger and got in.

"How did you do that?" I demanded.

"Did you really think a little lock is going to keep me out?" he asked.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Are you a fallen angel?"

"Keep guessing," he chimed in a creepy, sing-song voice.

"A demon?" I guessed.

A wry, silent smile crossed over his face. He began to sweep up his hair, wrapping it around one hand, over and over, until he tied it into a lumpy, haphazard man bun.

"What did you do to Nancy?" I demanded.

Hugo repeated her name and sighed heavily. "It's too bad about her, really. She was beautiful, but so weak inside. So fragile . . . Like a baby bird that just fell from the nest and broke its neck. Like that," Hugo finished, and snapped his fingers in my face so loudly that I startled.

"You sick bastard," I retorted, glaring back at him. "You killed her, didn't you?"

Hugo just laughed again. "I didn't have to do anything, Lauren. Nancy was already dead inside. She just hadn't realized it. Sometimes, all we have to do is point someone in the right direction, and they end up taking care of things themselves."

"Nancy would have never killed herself," I insisted. "She was so full of life before she met you. She loved her life and her son. You killed her! You're a murderer!"

He simply gazed at me, unaffected. "You didn't know Nancy at all, really. Did she ever tell you that she was bipolar? Sometimes the madness in her head got to be too much, and she either had to check herself into the hospital or do something crazy, like take off driving into the middle of nowhere, for days at a time"

"What?" I exclaimed. "What are you talking about? How could Nancy be mentally ill? She was one of the happiest women I knew."

"She was on medication cocktail- psychiatric medications, and that's why. Nancy was lost inside for most of her adult life," Hugo continued in a cold tone. "She just didn't like to show that side of her to anyone. She hated appearing weak. In fact, I don't think Nancy really had a clue who she was inside. Sound familiar, Lauren? Have you finished that self-portrait yet, Lauren? Or is the empty canvas still sitting in the basement, next to James's toolkit?"

I was stunned that Hugo had pinned the exact location so easily.

He sighed. "I have to admit, I've been following your little escapades recently, both you and Nathaniel. I have to say I'm quite impressed. You've expanded far beyond what any of us thought was possible, especially because you're still half human."

Us? I thought. Who else was he talking about?

Suddenly, the two back doors of my car opened. Two men got in and shut the door behind them. They looked exactly like Hugo, except each one wore a different hairstyle. One wore the trademark ponytail he'd always had in art class, and the other had his hair down. Outside, lightning lit up the sky and it began to rain. Heavy drops of water splattered.

"Who are these guys?", I demanded, "Your apostles? Did you clone them or something?"

Hugo just shrugged, "Genetically modified angels. They're brand new. I used my own DNA on them. I think they look pretty damn impressive, don't you? And they're extremely obedient. They'd kill themselves if I asked them to."

"You're sick. You disgust me."

"Why not join us, Lauren? You have so much potential, and Nathaniel is wasting it all."

"Join you?" I repeated. "And do what? Why do you keep asking me? Why not kill me instead?"

"Don't you remember? All those years ago?" he asked softly, and when I didn't answer, he looked disappointed. "I was always there; until you were about seven years old."

Truthfully, much of my younger life was a blur, and still I couldn't figure out why. There wasn't a wide repertoire of memories, just flashes of things here or there—visions of faces, my parents, sensations—like the feeling of cold snow on my hands, how small my hand felt in my father's large one.

"I don't have many real memories before I was eight years old, when my family moved here from Michigan. I've seen so many therapists, but they couldn't figure it out. I wasn't abused, and I didn't go through any trauma." I finally explained.

"You've repressed a lot of things," Hugo said suddenly.

"Yes," I nearly whispered.

"Why?" he asked.

Hugo put his hand on the side of my head, and I suddenly saw it all, everything I was missing. First I was a baby, crawling everywhere, with Hugo only a step behind me, watching carefully. Time after time, there were many accidents, so many dangerous things I did. Hugo was there each and every time, pushing me gently out of harm's way. At night he hovered in the corner of my room with a content look, watching over me until I fell asleep.

"But, why were you always there in my life?" I finally asked.

"I was your Guardian angel," he said slowly, looking almost sad, "I was assigned to protect you. Your life and soul were in my hands."

"But I thought you've gone rogue."

"That was before I abandoned my calling as an angel," he answered simply, "I felt like I was capable of so much more, and God just didn't care."

"Do all kids have guardian angels?"

"Of course not!" Hugo declared, "It's actually a predetermined thing. Nobody knows why, but certain individuals are chosen—they are considered high risk."

"Why me, then?" I demanded. "My family was ordinary. My dad worked for a printer company, he was a sales guy. My mother sold Tupperware. She used to throw all these dinner parties parties to sell her stuff."

"I remember those parties," Hugo mused, with a twinkle in his eyes, "Some of your mother's friends were irresistible."

"Hugo!", I exclaimed, "Did you sleep with any of them?"

He gave me a knowing smirk, and I gagged in disgust.

"You never answered my question. Why me?", I pressed.

"You were extremely accident prone, like you had some sort of curse of bad luck upon you that lasted for years. I had to constantly be on alert around you."

Another vision floated into my head. I saw myself riding a tricycle as a preschooler, straight into the street. A car suddenly came racing down the street. Hugo moved with lightning speed, smashing full force into the car so it narrowly missed me, so hard it drove up into a nearby driveway and knocked over a mailbox.

"Wow," I breathed. "I guess I was pretty bad."

"You were a first-rate klutz," Hugo blurted. "A complete disaster. I was your guardian angel until you were almost eight years old."

"Wait. That's when my mom said I went missing! When I was eight," I replied. "I was kidnapped for two days and finally a farmer found me and called the police. We moved here to Washington because of it. That's the first real thing I remember."

Hugo gave me a strange look. "You weren't kidnapped. You belonged to me, Lauren. You were still my charge. I took you with me to visit the Creator."

"Who?"

"God, of course," Hugo replied testily, rolling his eyes at me, "You kept asking if I would take you to see God. You used to go to Sunday school every week, sometimes twice a week. It got to the point you were obsessed with seeing him, and you wouldn't leave me alone about it."

"What?! Why would I do that?"

Hugo shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. "he replied. "I wanted to make you happy so I took you with me to show you heaven. We went to where the different dimensions meet."

"Now you have me completely confused" I exclaimed.

"Christ, Lauren, I took you to a portal!" he nearly shouted, becoming completely exasperated, "The earth has many areas where the magnetic force is weakened enough to allow angels to pass through into other dimensions like heaven or hell."

"Was it at a farm?" I asked.

Hugo nodded solemnly. "A crop circle. Yes. We walked for two days to get there. I kept trying to pass through the portal with you, but it didn't work. I got through and the portal closed behind me. You were still stuck on earth."

"You kidnapped me," I recalled suddenly. "I was scared, Hugo. I kept telling you that I wanted my mom. I wanted to go home."

"What I promised you was life changing," he insisted. "To see the face of God is something few humans are privy to."

"You left me alone in the dark and the cold. I went delirious," I retorted. "How was that OK? I developed hypothermia!"

Hugo shook his head, "I would have never put you in harm's way! Lauren, you were very unbalanced back then. You still are. But I can help you with that. I can provide you with the things Nathaniel can't. Do you really enjoy going around getting beaten doing his good works? And what do you get out of that? Pretty much nothing in return. Think about it."

I paused, considering Hugo's words. He had a point.

"Join us, Lauren. We don't take orders from anyone. You'll have even greater powers than you do now. Not to mention all the physical rewards I can give you. You're a beautiful woman, Lauren," he continued, glancing over at me. "Your physical needs have gone unmet for way too long. That's not fair to you."

Hugo was eyeing me in the same way I'd seen him admire Nancy at the museum, that appraising glance. I had to admit for a good long moment that I was tempted. I'd been exhausting myself between human life and being a Nephilim, and to be honest I was starting to feel deprived, even aching for love. From what Nancy had previously divulged, Hugo was a skilled lover who put all her desires first.

Hugo whispered my name, and I looked into his eyes. I felt him hypnotizing me, pulling him in with his powers. For some reason I hesitated. Maybe it was out of curiosity. Then, he was kissing me. At first, I was thrilled to be kissed. When James disappeared, I had worried it would never, ever happen again. But then, something else began to happen. Hugo breathed into my mouth, and a great darkness flowed into me, taking me over. I had been tricked, just like Nancy. I struggled and pushed against Hugo, even beat against his chest, but he had me pinned against him. He was holding the back of my head so hard it felt like he was crushing my skull. I began to desperately fumble around for some sort of weapon with my free hand. I came across James's old cigarette lighter, sitting on the console between both seats. I grabbed it and lit it, shoving the flame against the side of his face. Hugo loosened his grip on me momentarily, and roared in pain. I pulled free and stumbled out of the car, but I was horribly dizzy with black spots in my vision. All of a sudden, Nathaniel came crashing down on the hood of my car, denting it even more. James's poor car just seemed to take one beating after another, unfortunately.

Nathaniel looked livid. "Run!" he shouted at me. "Get out of here!"

I tried running, but whatever Hugo had infected me with made me so off balance I was bumping into vehicles around me. Behind me, Hugo and Nathaniel were engaged in a full-on war. Hugo grabbed Nathaniel by the back of the head and slammed his face down onto the hood of the car then began punching him viciously along the back of the neck and body. Nathaniel managed to roll to the side of the hood before the dark angel's fist came towards him again, and narrowly missed being hit. As soon as he caught his balance, he dove forward full force into Hugo. It was easily equivalent to being hit by several football line backers. Hugo went flying backward through the air so much momentum that he bounced off the top of one car and across the hood of another.

I turned and began running away again. The more I ran, the more Hugo's poison started to fade away. It was a good thing too, because his clones were now coming after me. One of them leaped up and flew overhead, landing a few yards in front of me, while the other began running straight toward me, a few yards behind. They were working together to set up a trap. The only thing closest to me was a construction vehicle off to the right, a small paver. Luckily, almost all the construction workers were off at lunch. I picked up the paver and hurled it at one of the clones then turned and ran to the side of the bridge. It was a long drop down, about fifteen to twenty feet or more. I stood on the very edge of a suspension rope that ran along the bridge, and the wind blew swiftly, making the whole bridge sway.

I was brought back to that moment when Nathaniel first trained me to fly. I remember how frightened I was of leaping off the building. I was once again terrified, especially after losing Nancy. But now if I didn't fight back, my own life was at stake.

I leaped off the bridge then quickly swooped underneath, clinging to the steel rods that held up the bridge. The first clone leaped off and soared just above the water looking for me, circling around. As he drew closer to the bridge, I swooped down on him and caught him from behind in a chokehold then forced his head under the surface of the water. He struggled violently, beating his wings and swinging his arms and legs, but I used every ounce of strength I had within me. After a while, he grew still and then became a dead weight in my hands.

I was shaking as I let go and watched him float off, then sink. The other Hugo clone attacked me, swooping down so fast he collided with me and we went crashing into the cold, rough sea together.. We wrestled, hit and kicked each other violently. He swung one of his wings out suddenly and hit me. Everything went reeling. The cloned dark angel hit me again and again in the head, until everything started to go black. His grip on me loosened and he stiffened in front of me. Something had exploded through his chest, and a substance like black ink leaked out from him into the water. It was his blood, because he wasn't human. Nathaniel had thrust a sword into his back and right through his chest. My mentor angel dove down and grabbed me, pulling me to the surface with him. Just as Nathaniel took flight, Hugo came flying down from the bridge with an angry yell. He had his wings wide open, the feathers an odd mixture of black and white.

The weather around us took a turn for the worse and turned into something like a blizzard. Out on the horizon, the sky was opening up. Nathaniel set me aside, ready to fight, calling out orders on his HARP in a language I couldn't understand- a heavenly tongue. A legion of angels swooped down out of the opening. Nathaniel pulled out his sword and pointed it at Hugo. Hugo tried in vain to fight off the legion of angels but was quickly outnumbered. They bound him up in a net and carried him back through the opening they had come through. Hugo screamed and roared angrily as he was pulled away. The sky closed up and everything instantly went back to normal, the wind and rain dying down. Traffic back on the bridge start moving forward, almost as if nothing had ever happened.

I was only half-coherent when Nathaniel carried me back to the car. My head was spinning from the blows I'd sustained, and Hugo's poison, and I faded in and out of consciousness. At one point, Mason called my cellphone, wanting to know why I wasn't at work. I wanted to tell him something, but I could hardly remember how to speak.

Finally, Nathaniel grabbed the cellphone out of my hands and hung up. I fell back into a deep sleep once again, letting fatigue and confusion wash over me.
Chapter 14

Stuck in the Darkness.

I was still struggling with a concussion the next day when I got a final call from Agent Markow. The investigator sounded about as exhausted as I felt inside.

"We've concluded our investigation on James," he said slowly, sounding detached. It was my first clue that something had gone awry with him.

"So did he get kidnapped, or is he just done with our family?" I replied testily.

The investigator sighed heavily before replying. "Our investigation found no signs of foul play, like kidnapping. Everyone we talked with that knew James pretty well felt he was overworked, not suicidal or mentally distraught. At this point we can't even conclude he may have had a nervous breakdown," he paused, before sighing again. "I'm really sorry."

"That's what I was afraid of," I muttered, and fought back tears. But I could feel his emptiness, which was even greater than mine. He was in complete and utter despair.

"Something's wrong over on your end," I declared suddenly. "Isn't it?"

"Yes," he nearly whispered. "They're gone too."

"Who?"

"My daughter and my wife" he replied. "I came home three days ago to find them gone."

He started crying, which was awkward. He was thousands of miles away, and we'd never even met in person. But as a Nephilim I was called to help others. I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to summon away my massive head pain and use my enhanced powers to clue into anything I could find see about him.

"What happened?" I asked softly. "Were you drinking again?"

"Yes," he finally answered with a shaky sigh. "I just, couldn't handle everything on my own anymore. We broke up last year, and she was with somebody else for a while. I still haven't gotten over it. But I stayed, damn it! We tried to work it out, for the sake of our daughter."

I almost laughed out loud, and what I said next was against my very purpose as an angel. "That approach never works. Trust me. Look where I am now. I put up with James's work addiction for years, thinking I could keep the family together. In the end, he chose everything else."

"I'm such a failure," he sighed, sounding completely heartbroken.

"No, you're not. But you're wasting time right now, crying over this. You need to check the Guaylang bus route. They're headed to the East. Hurry and get your little girl back," I advised.

Before he hung up the phone, I added, "And stop drinking so much."

I was still resting that afternoon when Nathaniel came by. At first, I tried to ignore him, but then the doorbell began to ring. I yanked the door open, my head throbbing.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

"Aren't you even going to invite me in?" he asked suddenly, holding up a bag of bagels and a package of organic coffee, one of my favorite brands. Normally, I would have been ecstatic. At this point, I just limped off and collapsed on a chair in the kitchen, leaving the door wide open for him. Nathaniel came in and began to make a fresh pot of coffee and heated up the bagels, whistling the whole time. From some reason, the sound drove me crazy. There was a pan rack that hung from the ceiling over the stove, holding most of my frying and cooking pans and pots. If I hadn't been so wounded I would have grabbed one the rack and hit him over the head with it. But as it was, walking across the room literally sent me reeling in dizziness.

"Will you shut up?" I finally snapped at him when he started singing, while pouring hot coffee and creamer into two mugs. "This is not a damn karaoke show, you know!"

Nathaniel instantly grew quiet, and looked at me with a puzzled tone. "What's gotten you so angry?" he finally dared to ask, and I tapped my forehead with one finger, quite irritably.

"I happen to have a concussion, and right now it feels like someone put my brain in a blender."

"Oh," Nathaniel said awkwardly, and grew silent. He set a mug of coffee and a hot blueberry flavored bagel in front of me, both of which I pushed away into the middle of the table.

"What's a concussion?" he finally dared to ask.

"It's when somebody hits you so hard your brain hurts," I snapped and laid my head on my arms, closing my eyes momentarily.

"Nathaniel," I breathed, feeling half asleep. "What happened to Hugo? I mean, where did he get taken to?"

My mentor angel looked nervous as he prepared to answer the question. "I don't know exactly. Maybe hell?" he finally muttered, sipping at his coffee. "They never really tell me all the details."

"Who are you talking about?"

"God's army," he replied slowly. "They were part of my battalion, the angels that captured him."

"Why won't anybody tell you where he went? I don't understand how you can work for an organization that hides things from you. It doesn't make any sense."

"It's part of being an angel. They give you orders, and you just have to follow them. Even if you don't understand why."

"But why would you do that?" I replied. "Let's say they want you to hurt someone innocent, what do you do then?"

"We all work for God," he reminded me with a gentle smile and laugh. "He always has our best interests in mind. He wouldn't ask us to do something illegal or immoral."

"It's not God I'm worried about," I sighed slowly. "Angels have been known to abandon their heavenly roles, you know. In the Bible, there are a lot of angels who left to work for the devil. Even the devil himself was once an angel."

"Yes. Lucifer was a very high ranking angel when he was cast out of heaven," Nathaniel chimed in.

"So we humans aren't that different from angels," I concluded. "Wouldn't that make it hard to trust?"

"Angels are made in God's divine image. He has your best interest in mind, always," Nathaniel reminded me. "That's why you shouldn't worry. Most of us exist to do good works, heal, encourage, save human lives. That sort of thing."

There was a long silence between us.

"How do you know Hugo?", I demanded suddenly, "How did he find me on the bridge?"

Nathaniel gave me a nervous glance. "I don't know," he stuttered. "L- Like I said a while back, your Nephilim powers must have opened the doors to something beyond the norm, like other dimensions."

"That's a lie," I snapped, giving him an intense, bitter look. "You two have to know each other. He called you 'Brother' outside Nancy's house that one night. It's like you had a whole army of angels on standby, waiting to catch him."

"We angels call each other brother and sister. That means nothing. I always summon help when these things get beyond my control," Nathaniel scoffed. "Yesterday was no different."

"No angel ever waits on standby to help you," I countered. "We all know that by now. Think of how many times we've had to handle danger on our own, just you and me."

Nathaniel shrugged and pointed at my food. "Eat something. Relax," he urged.

"Who's side are you on?" I finally demanded.

"Don't be silly, Lauren," he retorted. "You know I work for God."

But I didn't like the way Nathaniel suddenly refused to meet my gaze, or grew quiet so quickly after my questions.

"No more secrets," I declared suddenly. "You know so many things you won't tell me."

Nathaniel nearly spat out his coffee before managing to reply. " You know, maybe Hugo's poisoned your mind pretty badly. You never had any trouble believing me before all this happened."

My head was starting to throb even worse than before. I was still upset over the latest report from the embassy about James, plus Nancy's death, and now Nathaniel's evasiveness had me starting to boil inside with rage. Between all three of these things, I literally wanted to drive my fist through a wall in the kitchen.

"When can I be done with all of this? With being a Nephilim?" I demanded, standing, pointing at my wings that were protruding from my back.

"It's not your choice, unfortunately," Nathaniel replied softly.

I let out a loud, guttural yell of frustration, and just lost all common sense after that. I was yanking hard on one of my wings, hoping to rip it off, and my mentor angel raced over, trying to stop me. He wrapped his arms around me from the side and trying to pin my hands down. I angrily fought him, elbowed him in the gut and literally threw him off of me. He went flying through the air and landed on the kitchen table, which broke in half and collapsed beneath him. It was my grandmother's table, passed down the family line to me and James. The last shred of sanity I had was completely, and utterly gone.

"Get out!" I screamed and Nathaniel, and threw my cup of coffee all over him.

"You've ruined my life! I hate you!" I roared.

Nathaniel just stared at me, stunned. I don't think he ever expected me to turn on him like an angry back of wolves.

"Whatever you've done to me, you better figure out how to undo it right now!" I shouted, my face and voice filled with wrath.

"I don't know if that's possible," Nathaniel replied rather coolly. "Your angel powers, your wings, everything, is likely entwined into your DNA."

Sometime between me throwing every pan and cooking utensil at him and cursing the very ground he walked on, Nathaniel took off without another word. I didn't know what sort of darkness had overtaken me since my encounter with Hugo, but I was fearful that I might never go back to normal again.
Chapter 15

Lauren Moves On

I tried not to be a Nephilim for two weeks, hoping the darkness inside of me would subside. For several nights I felt like I was bursting at the seams. At midnight I put on my jacket and running shoes and raced up and down the streets, hoping I would come across a demon, a criminal or some other dark force. I was itching for a fight, but it never happened. I just got tired, gave up and went back home.

The greatest benefit of focusing on my human life was that my productivity at work had gone through the roof. I'd brought in more clients than Mason could handle, and he was so pleased he took me out for lunch that Friday. I chose a Mexican restaurant in downtown Seattle we both liked.

"I don't know what you've changed or done, but I'm amazed," he said as we waited for our lunch entrees. "Lauren, you need to become a sales rep. I've never seen anybody overcome so many objections in one week!"

He laughed before continuing. "I mean, on those conference calls we did, it was almost like you were reading their minds or something. The things you said were completely out of left field, and they worked!"

I blushed and fiddled with the straw in my drink

. The truth was, I really had been reading our client's minds. I found that if I concentrated enough, there was some sort of third inner ear I could open up, and feed into a wavelength that contained other people's thoughts and concerns. It was easier to read in some folks than others, though it only seemed to work on humans. Nathaniel had once said that some people had clearer intentions while others gave off a muffled communication. Mason was the muffled type, which disappointed me. I would have loved to read his every thought.

"If we keep closing deals like those, you'll have your own office as a sales rep in no time," he continued.

"I really doubt that, Mason," I replied softly. "I've been waiting for Janet to promote me for over a year now. It's just not going to happen."

He reached out and patted my arm. "She will, trust me. Look, I'll bring it up next time I talk with her, okay?"

His hand lingered for a brief moment on my forearm, warm in the cool air. My gaze caught his and I managed to smile back.

"Did you change something recently?" he blurted out, "You just seem different. In a good way."

I brushed back a lock of my hair, feeling self-conscious. What should I tell him? I had gone from 35 percent body fat to ten percent in the space of two months, I could now lift the equivalent of a car up above my head and do an amazing number of pushups, I could read minds, fly, save people's lives, fight supernatural beings.

"Uh, I got a haircut," I began slowly, and he chuckled. "I'm having a good week is all," I finished, "Must be those new vitamins I started taking."

Mason rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm serious, Lauren. Something is really different about you in these last few months."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, trying to hide the quickly rising terror I felt inside.

"You're more confident now. You're fearless. Like when we went cold calling on Monday, that restaurant owner tried to slam the door on us, and you stuck your foot in the way, and still got him to talk to us. I even gave him a quote. I wouldn't even have had the guts to do that," Mason continued, "You even look different. Like you just walked out of a spa or something. You're not as stressed out."

Not as stressed out? I wanted to exclaim. Did he have any idea how little sleep and how much coffee I was surviving on lately, trying to live my human life and keep up with Nathaniel?

"So what's your secret, Lauren?" he asked suddenly, and I choked on the water I was drinking.

"What do you mean?"

Mason leaned forward across the table, so our faces were only a bit away, as if he was sharing his own secret. "What are you doing?" he whispered. "Are you on some new kind of medication or something?"

I burst out laughing. "No, no pills, Mason. It's just a little inner change is all," I sighed. "I'm not really ready to talk about it yet."

Mason tried to hide his disappointment as he relented, "All right, that's cool. But seriously, I think I could use some of whatever it is you're doing."

My coworker looked almost desperate for a moment. Suddenly, I could feel what he was experiencing inside—he was super lonely in his personal life. I saw one of his recent memories; he was was at a night club with some guy friends. All of them had a girl at their side, except for him. One of Mason's buddies nudged him and pointed toward a tall, beautiful blonde in a red dress and her friend, who had just walked up to the bar. Mason straightened his glasses and took several deep breaths, summoning up all his courage. He walked over to the bar and tried to get their attention rather unsuccessfully. His friends looked over at him, some of them laughing. Mason pulled nervously at the collar of his shirt, and cleared his throat.

"Hey, ladies," he practically shouted, "Can I buy you some drinks?"

The two women looked over at him and then at each other. Mason smiled brilliantly, flaunting his award winning dimples. The women just shook their heads and walked off, one of them rolling her eyes. The front door swung open and his ex, Shana, walked in, wearing a tight black dress with a huge, muscular guy in tow. I saw Mason walking over and decking the guy, throwing him across the bar like a sack of feathers then dipping Shana down and kissing her deeply while half the patrons in the night club cheered. Actually, that was just his imagination. What really happened was that Shana looked up and saw Mason watching her. He waved, and she turned away and grabbed her new man, whispering in his ear, and they laughed as they walked off together. Mason was gripping the wooden bar so tightly with both hands that a splinter came off and gouged him in the thumb. He pulled his hands away, watching as blood trickled down out of the wound. Then he stormed off angrily into the cold Seattle night.

Mason walked for several miles along the roadside before he stopped at a liquor store, buying a bottle of vodka. He continued walking and drinking until he got to the edge of the city, where the concrete met an open patch of land, mostly overgrown grass and weeds. There was a huge billboard up next to the highway. Mason climbed up the metal rungs of the structure until he got to the top, where there was a wide metal ledge, large and strong enough to stand on.

I cringed inwardly, expecting Mason to leap off onto the highway below. Instead he just sat down on the ledge and enjoyed the late-night view, and when he got tired of the Vodka he poured it out on the road below. A lone pigeon flew down and landed on the ledge next to him, gazing curiously at him. Mason held out his hand and the animal pecked briefly at it then flew off, uninterested.

As the waitress came by with our food, I felt sorry for Mason. We chatted about my kids and made jokes while we ate, and he didn't press me for more information again. As we hurried to catch the subway back to work, I could sense he was nervous. His hands were shoved into his pockets, balled into fists. The subway was rather crowded but we managed to find two empty seats over by the window and squeezed into the tight space. The subway lurched around a corner unexpectedly and we fell against one another. Mason put an arm out against the window behind me to steady himself, and for a moment our faces were only inches apart. I could see him close his eyes and hold his breath, holding himself back.

"Hey, you got an extra train schedule?" someone in front us demanded suddenly. Mason straightened up suddenly, handing the train schedule in his back pocket to a balding old man with a yellow stained jacket.

"Thanks," the man said and smiled, revealing a row of crooked teeth. "I don't know what it is, but you two sure do make a good-looking couple. Couple of young professionals riding the subway together. You don't see that too much nowadays."

"We're just coworkers," I explained, blushing so deeply I could feel even my chest turn red.

"Well, don't let her get away, if she gives you a chance," he said to Mason. "When I was thirty, I worked in a publishing firm, down in the mailroom. There was an amazing gal in the front office from Puerto Rico. I mean, she was beautiful, smart, attractive, amazing curves. We went out for lunch together a few times, but I was too scared to tell her how I felt. Before I knew it, she met somebody else, some good-looking sales rep who used to visit the building a lot. They got married and she quit. I'll never forget it. She was the one for me, and I let her get away. Don't be like that," he said, shaking his head with a sad smile.

Mason just nodded his head, trying to understand. "That's really too bad. There's always that one that gets away."

"Exactly. So don't say I didn't warn you," the old man continued, wagging a finger at him as the subway train jerked to a stop. "If she's worth it, make her marry you. I should have done that."

Mason nodded again, still confused.

"No regrets, brother!" the old man shouted over his shoulder as he headed toward the subway exit/entrance doors to get out at his stop.

I was blushing thirty shades of red by the time Mason finally glanced over at me.

"Man, the people you can meet on this subway," he just muttered, chuckling. "Can you believe he thought we were a couple?"

I shrugged, and grew silent and awkward between us. Eventually, I fell asleep against his shoulder, without realizing it. I only woke up when Mason shook me awake at our stop.

"Who's Nathaniel?" he asked as we headed up the steps from the subway station and onto the sidewalk.

I froze. "What do you mean?"

"You were talking in your sleep. You kept telling Nathaniel to leave you alone," he replied.

The stop light we were waiting on changed and we hurried briskly across, motorists and bikers waiting impatiently.

"That's odd," I muttered.

"Is it that bald guy I saw you having lunch with the other day, over at the coffee shop by work? The guy in the hooded sweatshirt?" Mason asked.

By now we had reached the other side of the street, and I felt like I was going to have a heart attack.

"You saw him?" I asked, stunned. Other than my kids and Hugo, I had never seen anybody notice Nathaniel, and he often reminded me that full angels like him were usually invisible.

"Of course," Mason said and gave me a weird look. "He's always wandering around here too. For a couple of months now. Who is he?"

"Just an old friend," I stammered. "He does business around here."

"Really?" Mason said. "What line of work is he in? He looks like a thug."

"He's a private investigator," I lied. "He mostly locates people in danger, people who have gone missing. Sometimes he rescues them."

Mason's eyes widened. "Wow. Is he helping you find James?"

"Something like that," I continued. Unfortunately, news of James's disappearance had spread through the gossip mill at work, and I was still the subject of much speculation and curiosity. There was even a rumor going around that I must have done something like abuse James to make him just disappear. After having an honest discussion with Mason, he was the only coworker I felt okay with discussing the situation with on occassion.

"Lauren," Mason said as he opened the door to the Orange Group building. "It's cool if you go to lunch with other guys. I won't judge. James is MIA anyway."

I startled, and just stared at Mason.

He chuckled. "I'm kidding, Lauren. It was a joke. Man, you look so freaked out."

I rolled my eyes at him, then marched past him into the building. When the elevator opened he motioned for me to go ahead of him, and I tossed him a dark look over my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he exclaimed, holding up both hands in mock surrender.

"You're lucky you're cute. Otherwise I'd slap you," I retorted, pointing a finger at him. Mason raised his eyebrows, I blushed, and suddenly he burst out laughing, erasing the tension in the air, and I followed suit.

That afternoon as I left work, a strange, new thought ran through my head. What if I fell in love again? Was that even possible after James's abandonment and the strange transformation I'd gone through? It started raining outside, and a chill swept through me. I cranked up the heater, trying to redirect my thoughts on everything I had to get done that evening. Maybe it wasn't the best tactic but hyper-focusing on my to-do list and organizing was the best I could do to deal with my emotions. Yet I found that even when I got home, my thoughts were scattered and kept coming back to Mason. Suddenly, I knew exactly what I needed to do.

That night, at exactly the two-week mark from when I had told Nathaniel to get lost, I took my HARP out and turned it on.
Chapter 16

Gargoyles and Chinese Kitchens

When I turned on my HARP that night, I figured maybe Nathaniel might send me a text, or maybe he would pull a magic disappearing act like my husband James had. The angel suddenly landed right in front of me on my balcony. He startled me so badly that I ended up dropping the wineglass I was holding the floor. Glass shards and red wine went everywhere.

"You might want to warn me next time before you just drop out of the sky like that!" I snapped. Nathaniel just smiled easily and disappeared inside to return with a broom and dust pan, immediately cleaning up the mess, and handing me my tennis shoes.

I pulled on my jacket, checked on the kids, and Nathaniel and I headed off into the cool, breezy Seattle night.

"How was your time off?" Nathaniel asked suddenly as we jogged down the empty street and through wet grass in the neighborhood park.

"I was just living my human life," I muttered.

"Why did you come back?" he asked finally. "I thought you were done with being a Nephilim."

Even under the cover of his dark hoodie, he looked slightly hurt, though I doubted I could ever damage a huge, indestructible angel like him.

I sighed. How could I ever explain the insanity of being a Nephilim, and how I was beginning to fall apart, being pulled in so many directions between my human life and my new half angel role?

"I guess I missed this," I replied as I jumped up and grabbed onto the monkey bars in the playground, easily completing over fifty pull-ups

"What do you mean?" Nathaniel wondered.

"It's not the same, just being human. It doesn't compare," I continued and stopped to think.

Why had I summoned Nathaniel again? I could have just gone on with my tedious life: the daily grind of work, parenting and housekeeping. But at night, when the house was silent and the rain pounded down on the roof, I found myself weeping. I was now without James and even Nancy, and the loneliness tore me up inside. At least being a Nephilim meant I had Nathaniel, even if he was bossy, overbearing, and slightly annoying at times.

"I guess I missed you a bit too," I finally admitted, "I'm sorry about what I did. It was inexcusable, the way I treated you."

Nathaniel didn't try to hide his satisfied smile. His HARP began buzzing then, and mine followed. It was an alert about the downtown Seattle area, a code red, which meant violence.

"It's about time," he muttered under his breath and unzipped his sweater, tossing it aside as his heavy wings unfurled themselves. He seemed stronger than before, and oddly, some of his pristine white wings were turning black. There was a bright, full moon, and a thin layer of clouds floated over the huge orb in the sky.

Something was different about that night-maybe it was the full moon. There was strange electricity in the air, a feeling of anticipation. Regardless, we took off flying into the cold night. This time I found it a challenge to keep up with Nathaniel. He was flying at a breakneck speed, diving and darting rather haphazardly through clouds and pockets of fog. I would go bursting through a patch of white clouds only to find I had lost him again. In the end, I had to follow the GPS feature on my HARP. We ended up in downtown Seattle, in front of a bar called Lucy's Vice. Nathaniel was already standing next to the old brick building when I landed on the side-walk, panting.

"I almost thought I lost you there," he muttered, shaking his head.

"What are we doing here?" I wondered, staring at the worn metal door of the bar with the OPEN sign on it. There was quite a commotion going on inside, with rock music blasting and people yelling. Suddenly, the door went flying open and two bikers tumbled out onto the sidewalk, still fighting, kicking and swinging at one another.

"We're here to get things under control," Nathaniel muttered as he approached the two. One of them had climbed up top of the other and was punching him in the face. Nathaniel reached from behind and caught his fist. The biker looked up and cursed at him.

Nathaniel's face darkened "Is that any way to talk to heaven's most powerful angel?", he shouted, and when the biker cursed again, he picked him up and tossed him through the air. The biker went crashing into a row of bikes sitting adjacent to the building, and they all toppled over one by one with a huge crash. The other biker got up off the ground and just stared at Nathaniel, his eyes wide open in fear. The angel roared at him, and he fled. I walked over and examined the biker Nathaniel had thrown, who was lying in a heap, moaning. I carried him over to a nearby bench and laid him down then put my hands over his wounded head, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Leave him," Nathaniel growled, and in the moonlight, his muscles quivered and steam rose off of him into the cold night air.

"What's gotten into you?" I demanded, feeling confused by his sudden brutality. The angel I knew would have shown some sort of concern for an injured human. Instead, he gave me a dark look and plunged into the bar. I followed, worried for the safety of the other bikes with Nathaniel's dark state of mind.

There was a full-blown biker brawl going on between two local biker gangs, with about twenty to thirty-five burly, drunken, denim or leather-clad bikers inside. It all started with the best of intentions, at least on my end. I helped several waitresses get out the front door unscathed before things fell apart. Bikers were everywhere fighting, and they were vicious, attacking both Nathaniel and I along with each other. At one point, a man came swinging a knife at me. I picked him up and hurled him through the air, right across the bar. He slid straight across it and crashed into the shelf behind the bar, falling to the ground. There was glass and liquor everywhere. I was trembling with rage and power, and for a moment, I didn't even care if I'd hurt him. I'd never been this angry before at any human being.

Nathaniel and I fought the last few bikers side by side, stunning them with powerful blows until we could render them all unconscious. Suddenly, we were the only ones left standing in the entire bar, and the floor was littered with unconscious bikers. The music blasted relentlessly overhead, ACDC's Highway to Hell. Nathaniel marched over and yanked the cord from the stereo system out of the wall. It was instantly silent.

"What are we supposed to do now?" I demanded, breathlessly.

"Tie them up," he replied, throwing several yards of rope in my direction.

"I thought we were supposed to help people. Shouldn't we heal them or something?" I objected, watching as he dragged three unconscious bikers next to one another, tying the rope around their torsos to bind them together.

"We are helping them," he growled, and tossed me a dark look. "Just do as I say."

When I just stared at him, he snapped. "Now, Lauren!"

It took about twenty more minutes until we finished, and then we could hear police sirens coming.

"Let's get out of here," Nathaniel ordered and he pulled me out the back door with him just as several cop cars pulled up in front of the bar.

We raced down a long alleyway for nearly half a mile or so until we stopped to catch our breath. Nathaniel just looked at me and shook his head "I can't believe we just did that," he muttered, as if coming back to reality.

"Oh my God," I breathed as we walked further into the long alleyway, our feet splashing through puddles from the rainstorm earlier that day. "That was crazy! I've never knocked anybody out before; at least not a human."

Nathaniel chuckled softly as he walked next to me. "Well, there's a first time for everything," he muttered.

"Man, I felt like Bruce Lee!" I exclaimed, shadow boxing with my shadow on the building wall next to me. "Do you go out at night a lot like this?"

"Sometimes," Nathaniel replied uneasily, not returning my gaze.

"I can't believe it. We were like real super-heroes or something!" I continued.

No sooner had I even finished my last sentence then a huge winged, figure came swooping down from the sky and landed in front of us in the wet alleyway, only a few yards away. The ground beneath our feet shook. It was hard to make out what it was, until the being straightened up to full height, at over twelve feet tall. The creature was gray, it's body like a wild dog, massively muscled, and the face bore a huge, powerful jaw and a long, wide snout. Its large ears stood alert on its powerful head, and it had a long, heavy tail. The creature growled at us, revealing razor sharp teeth.

"What the hell is that?" I demanded, my pulse starting to race. Nathaniel instinctively grabbed me by the arm and began to push me behind him in a protectively

"It's a gargoyle," he gasped, sounding shocked. "I don't get it. They never, ever cross over into this dimension. They don't come onto the earth anymore."

"What does it want?" I demanded as the Gargoyle began to paw at the ground, leaving huge claw marks in the solid concrete from its massively sharp, huge claw.

Nathaniel backed up a few feet, dragging me with him. He pulled out his HARP and pressed a button on the side. A huge, silver axe materialized in his hand, glowing under the moonlight.

"It wants to kill us," he said in a tense voice.

"Run!" he shouted suddenly at me, when the gargoyle began to crouch down like a cat ready to bounce, growling heavily. "Go! Get out of here!"

The gargoyle leaped up through the air at us. I took off running as fast as I could, utterly terrified. Nathaniel leaped up into the air with his axe and met the gargoyle half way, slicing at him with the axe while the Gargoyle slashed back with his claws and teeth. The animal had wings but they were small, and because his huge muscular body was so heavy, he couldn't truly fly like angels. It did allow him to leap up higher than normal, and faster. Nathaniel had the dexterity of a ninja and some sort of Greek mythical super-hero combined. He ducked, leaped out of the way, even back-flipped to avoid the Gargoyle's spiked tail at one point and then attacked with great precision, injuring the gargoyle with precise, quick blows from the axe. Then I heard several loud thumps behind me, and the ground shook. Three more gargoyles had swooped down from the sky and landed only a few yards behind me. Though they were all gargoyles, each was uniquely different in appearance. I don't know what was scarier. The way they looked, or the fact that they could kill me at any moment. I was literally trapped. I couldn't run forward into Nathaniel and the first gargoyle, and the three other gargoyles were starting to close in on me. I turned and ran up the building next to me, climbing up the drainpipe that ran up to the roof. I pulled myself up by my hands as if the drainpipe was a rope, walking the wall with my feet. The gargoyles leapt up from the ground, snapping at me like crocodiles. My hands began to blister from the rough metal of the drainpipe.

Is this real? my mind kept asking, over and over again.

Finally, I got up on the rooftop and ran across it, looking for a ladder, stairs or some other sort of exit. There was nowhere to go. One of the gargoyles had started scratching his way to the top of the roof, and managed to climb over. The others were loudly scrambling up the side of the building, using their claws like climbing hooks, which was difficult and painful for them. I had to get out of there, fast, and put as much space as I could between the creatures and I. I raced to the end of the rooftop and leaped off, flying through the air onto the next building, which was about a ten-foot leap. I tumbled when I landed and somersaulted a few times, and when I got up I saw one of the gargoyles was jumping after me, and the other two were closing in. The chase continued for at least a good mile or two. They chased me from one rooftop to the next, until I got into Seattle's China Town area. I leaped from the top of a large manufacturing building onto the dilapidated roof of a small Chinese restaurant, landing solidly on both feet. Seconds later, the worn roof gave out beneath my feet. It was literally rotting from the endless rain season. I went plunging downwards with a yell and landed so hard on the prep table in the kitchen that I broke the scarred wooden furniture piece in two. I was knocked out for a good while.

Far off, I heard the sounds of growling, and multiple voices shouting. Swords clanked and smashed, cutting flesh, bone—there were screams of pain. Something exploded, and a blazing heat engulfed the air all around me, burning my skin like a powerful sun burn. I came to, and opened my eyes. A gargoyle was sitting right over me, his claw hand over my throat like a vice, his mouth open to reveal rows of shiny, sharp teeth. His breath was hot and foul. If I let him bite or strike me, he could sever my head off in a single bite. I had been painfully injured before in other battles, injuries that would have been permanent if Nathaniel had not healed me. Even superheroes could die at some point. My mind raced with desperate thoughts. My kids were still at home asleep in bed, James was still missing in Singapore, and I was supposed to take Sarah to school at 7 am for a debate club practice. This night time adventure had suddenly become almost life threatening.

The monster pulled his head back slightly, preparing for the final death blow. I did the one thing that came to mind first. I punched hard into the front of the gargoyle's chest, in the tender soft area between its ribcages, the solar plexus area. My fist went soaring right in through the flesh and through a layer of ropy cartilage. My hand flowed through warm, hot blood, ripping away anything in its path—tendons, veins, muscle, until I came across a fist sized organ, the pulsing, beating heart. The gargoyle roared when I ripped my hand back out through the hole in its chest, clutching it's still beating heart. I'll never forget the look in the beast's eyes as the life flowed out of him, just before he collapsed onto me. He was much heavier than I thought, his wait almost suffocated me. I tried to scream, but my voice was muffled. Something was still burning in the room, and the fire alarm finally went off, then the sprinklers. Somehow, I wiggled out from gargoyle's carcass.

The kitchen of the Chinese restaurant was a broken, burned, and bloody mess. Dead gargoyles were lying all over the floor, and I saw that there wasn't just three or four. About a dozen or more had all been killed by a small army of angels. About ten magnificent, strong angels were there in the room, wiping the blood off their swords or other weapons, patching up their wounds. They were disheveled and exhausted, their tunics ripped and stained with blood or dirt. The entire room had been scorched by a fireball blast of raw heat and energy one of the angels had unleashed, trying to burn or weaken the gargoyles.

Nathaniel came swooping down through the open hole in the roof, landing right next to me and the gargoyle's corpse. He was also a hot mess, and stared at the gargoyle's heart I was still clutching.

"Did you do that?" he asked in shock. I nodded, still shell shocked.

Another angel came bursting into the kitchen from the front end of the restaurant. He looked stronger and more authoritative than any of them, and he was dressed in gold and carried a heavy curved sword, something like a cross between a Turkish fighting weapon and a Viking sword. I heard Nathaniel tensely mutter the name "Raphael" under his breath.

"What is this?" the angel demanded, poking at one of the Gargoyle corpses with his sword, "Why are there Gargoyles here?"

Nathaniel shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine. I thought they were supposed to protect the church, but they came after us instead."

Raphael frowned as he stared at my mentor angel and myself "Is that why you called for backup?", he inquired. Nathaniel nodded but said nothing

"Who is she?" he demanded suddenly, pointing right at me.

"Just a new angel. A trainee I'm working with," Nathaniel replied quickly, "Nothing to worry about."

Raphael walked forward until he was standing right in front of me. He sniffed the air around me, then poked at me, inspecting my face, my wings.

"What are you doing?" Nathaniel demanded nervously, "Stop bothering her!"

"She's not a full angel. She smells like a human being," Raphael declared suddenly, narrowing his eyes at both of us, "So you really did find a Nephilim, didn't you? I thought it was just a rumor."

Nathaniel scoffed, "She's a new angel," he lied, "Don't be ridiculous."

"If she is, then have her recite the 10 virtues. Every angel knows that," the senior angel demanded. Everyone looked expectantly at me.

I just looked helplessly at Nathaniel and shrugged my shoulders.

"You traitor!" Raphael growled. He grabbed Nathaniel by the shoulder and bent his arm back at a painful angle, forcing him to kneel down on the ground in front of the senior angel.

"You've broken celestial law!", he continued, "Consorting with Nephilim has been forbidden for a thousand years! Where did you find her?"

When Nathaniel was silent, he roared, "Answer me!"

"His HARP," Raphael ordered to the other angels, "Bring it to me."

Nathaniel managed to pull free as they handed Raphael his HARP and he quickly backed out of the senior angel's reach. Within moments Raphael was scrolling through Nathaniel's HARP.

"This is why the Gargoyles came," he declared, holding up the phone, "You were given a mission to break up a biker fight tonight and to minister the word and peace to them. Instead, you and this Nephilim beat them up," he pointed at me with a look of utter disgust before continuing, " The Gargoyles came out to defend the humans. That's what they're supposed to do, actually." He sighed before adding, "Except they were a little bit too late."

Nathaniel scowled from where he knelt on the floor still "How do you know anything about what we did tonight? You weren't even there. We were attacked and it was self-defense. We brought them to justice. Those bikers were destructive. They deserved it!"

"I'm a watcher. It's my job to know everything that goes on. God called on you to bring healing and compassion to humans, not to punish them! That's not what your job is about!" Raphael shouted, looking furious.

Nathaniel stood up grabbed for his HARP, but Raphael held it just out of his reach. "This isn't the calling I was made for anyways. I'm a warrior angel. I fight for justice, that's what I do!", Nathaniel fumed.

"You led a group of new recruits into a death trap in the fifth dimension. You knew they weren't ready and they didn't have the training. You don't have the wisdom it takes to lead an army anymore," Raphael scoffed, "Do I really need to remind you of all this?"

Nathaniel grabbed his sword and swung it at Raphael with a yell of rage. The senior angel was quick on his feet and blocked the blow with his own sword. He turned quickly and did a spinning kick, hitting my mentor angel in the torso and sending him flying backwards into a metal sink. A pile of takeout boxes on a shelf nearby fell onto Nathaniel.

"His sword, get it" Raphael ordered, and the other angels swiftly removed my mentor's sword from him.

Nathaniel scrambled to his feet, grabbing my arm, pulling me with him. "Stay away from us," he shouted at the other angels.

"You'll be brought to trial for all this. God will judge you," Raphael warned as Nathaniel rushed out of the kitchen and into the main area of the restaurant, pulling me with him. He kicked down front doors and we rushed out of there. As we ran out on the street and took flight, I could see Raphael and the other angels standing in the entrance to the restaurant, still clutching their weapons, watching us.

"Fly as fast as you can. Don't slow down," Nathaniel ordered as I followed him through the dark night sky, feeling confused. It started raining and by the time we got back to my neighborhood it was pouring. Hail was starting to rain down. I was wet and shivering and the burn I'd gotten from some angel's power blast in the restaurant was starting to hurt badly.

We stopped on my front porch, where I collapsed into a wicker chair just a few feet from the door, breathless. Nathaniel looked angry, scorned, and more upset than I'd ever seen him. He clenched his fists in anger as he stormed up and down the front porch.

"What happened tonight was a fluke and nothing more," he warned me, "Don't believe anything Raphael said."

I shivered and took his HARP out of my pocket. While he and Raphael had been busy fighting I'd managed to rescue it.

"What did he mean that consorting with Nephilim is against the rules?", I demanded, "I thought you said God forced me to become this way; to restore the balance of things."

Nathaniel clenched his jaw so tightly I could hear his teeth grinding together as he took his HARP from me, "Raphael is a traitor and a manipulator. He's brought false charges against me before and he'd do it again. He does it to keep himself in power over the rest of us. To control us."

I shivered, freezing from the rain and the wind, and argued, "B-But you're angels. You guys aren't supposed to fight or lie to each other. Aren't you made in the image of God? God is perfection."

Nathaniel scoffed, "I wish it was that simple, Lauren. Being an angel is more complicated than you'd think."

He gave me a look of concern, "You're shaking everywhere. I think the fire blast must have burned you pretty badly. "

He carried me inside and put me in bed, carefully applying ointment to the seared areas of my face and neck. I was so exhausted I fell asleep watching him squeeze Bacitracin zinc out of the tube to put on my throbbing skin.

"Don't let me fall asleep," I pleaded as he collapsed onto the reclining chair in my room. "I'll be late for everything tomorrow."

"Rest now," Nathaniel insisted, and ran his hand over my eyes, shutting them. Sleep came instantly.

Overnight, the bad "sunburn" I'd gotten in the Chinese restaurant reduced from a serious, blistering burn to what looked like sunburn

. I lied about my lobster red skin at work, saying I had fallen asleep in a tanning bed at the gym. A few hours later, I was pretty much the laughing stock of the entire company. The alternative would have been trying to convince them of the life/death battle I'd had with a bunch of gargoyles. But there was one person I never saw laughing, as if he sensed my discomfort all too well. Mason came back from lunch on that same day with three bottles of Aloe Vera, which can be impossible to find during the winter in Seattle.

"Hope you feel better," he said briefly with a wink as he set them on my desk and then hurried to get on a conference call. I knew then he wasn't buying my tanning bed accident, but he really did care after all.
Chapter 17

Breaking Down

Either my encounter with the gargoyles or the continual lack of sleep began to take a toll on me. On Friday of that week, I fell asleep in the middle of my lunch. When I woke up it was almost two hours later, and I panicked, hurrying back to work. Luckily, Mason was out of the office. I got myself a cup of coffee and started moving files and training packets over to the new filing cabinet Janet had rolled in that morning. My feet just seemed to get heavier and heavier, and after that I couldn't remember anything else.

A gentle hand was shaking me awake.

"Lauren," a soft voice whispered. It belonged to a man. For a second, I thought it was James, with his jet-black hair and broad cheeks, the crooked smile he often had.

"Not now, James," I mumbled. "I'm too tired."

The man cleared his throat and replied in an embarrassed tone. "It's Mason. Wake up. You must have fainted."

I forced my eyes open and looked around. I was between my desk and the old filing cabinet, and there was a huge mess of billing invoices on the floor. Mason was kneeling next to me, while Robert (Bob) and Janet, the Orange Group owners, were standing in the doorway. All three looked worried. Oh, crap, I thought, What have I done?

"What happened?" I asked, pulling myself slowly to a sitting position.

"Oh my God," Janet gasped. "She's bleeding!"

"What?" I asked, and felt a trickle coming from my ear canal. It was blood. Then my nose started bleeding. Mason handed me a Kleenex then placed the box on my lap.

"Do you feel OK?" he asked in a worried voice, mingled with forced calmness. I knew this reaction, somewhat. He used it sometimes with upset clients, and paced the floor while he talked them "off the ledge" over the phone.

"I'm just tired," I said softly, feeling as worried and confused as them. Now that the owners had seen me collapse, how was I going to explain this?

"Did you hit your head?" Mason asked as I pinched my nose to stop the bleeding.

"I don't think so. I was moving files, and the next thing I knew, you were waking me up," I replied casually, patting my head.

"I'm going to call the paramedics," Janet said, reaching for the phone. "Just to be on the safe side."

"No!" I exclaimed so loudly, everyone jumped. "I mean, you don't have to get so extreme. I feel better now, really. I haven't slept very much for the last week or two. I'm probably just tired or anemic or something."

Janet's dark eyes locked on me. She was a tiny woman, but her determined nature often made her seem much taller and bigger.

"So do you want me to call for an ambulance, or drive you to the hospital myself?" she demanded. "Because you're not going to sit here and bleed all over my office, or have something even worse like a seizure happen to you in my office. My worker's comp costs will go through the roof if you get injured here."

Mason stepped forward. "It's OK, Janet, just calm down," he began in his most diplomatic tone. I could have hugged him gratefully at that point. "I'll take Lauren to the hospital. I've been trying to get them as a new client anyway."

For a moment, Janet relaxed then nodded.

"Are you going to fire me?" I asked her. I knew it was pretty bold to ask, but I figured it was best to find out the truth early on.

"No one's getting fired here," Robert declared, "Janet's just worried for you. You need to take some time off and figure out what's going on with your health. Your job will be here when you get back."

He grabbed my arm. "Can you stand up?" he asked, and told Mason to grab the other one. They hoisted me to my feet. My gait was so uneven that Mason put an arm around me and helped walk me out of the office.

"Let's hope she's not pregnant," Janet whispered to Robert as we turned the corner. I wondered now what would happen to me. I was losing all control over myself, it seemed.

Mason's Corvette was cold inside as got in. He started the engine, cranked up the heater, and looked over at me as he put on his seat belt.

"Are you ever going to tell me what's going on with you?" he snapped. For a moment, I wasn't sure how to answer.

"When's the last time you saw a doctor, Lauren?" he asked, and I shrugged, truly unable to remember.

"Do you have cancer or something?" he continued, running a nervous hand through his thick brown hair. "Christ, Lauren! I can't go to work every day wondering if you've passed out somewhere or even worse, when you just disappear, and I don't hear from you for a couple of days. I mean, what the hell? This has to stop."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my hands actually shaking in my lap. I knew I was treading on dangerous territory, namely, the unemployment line. "I wish I could tell you what's going on, but it's too complicated. I don't need to go to the hospital. I just need some sleep. Trust me on this, Mason."

Mason gritted his teeth. "Well, I don't believe you for a second. I'll stay with you in the emergency room, for however long it takes. Don't even think of trying to sneak out. And keep your damn shoes on."

If I hadn't been so stressed out, I would have laughed at his last comment.

He backed out of the covered parking lot and turned the car down the street. I wished I had never gone to work that day. Grungy-sounding 80s rock music was playing softly on the car stereo. I had never seen Mason so upset before. Then again, I'd never had to keep secrets from him or anyone else either.

"Mason, please," I begged softly, feeling like a prisoner in his Corvette. "Just take me home so I can sleep."

He ignored me and sped up the car.

"Why won't you listen to me?" I exclaimed, my tone urgent. Another driver, a young guy in a performance vehicle cut him off suddenly, flipping him off, laughing. Mason just frowned and muttered under his breath. The driver moved into the lane next to us and slowed down. As we caught up with him he did it once again, throwing a soda can this time out the window, which bounced off the hood of Mason's car. Mason growled angrily and stepped down hard on the gas. His corvette engine roared as he changed lanes and speed up to cut off the other car, racing through a red light. Then a large black truck came out of nowhere, crossing the intersection. It was headed right for Mason's door. Everything seemed to slow down then, as if in slow motion. I grabbed the wheel with one hand and pulled it in the opposite direction. The car spun around in a 360-degree angle onto the wrong side of the road, and the truck barreled just past us, honking wildly. Mason shouted in surprise and I ordered him to pull over.

"Stop the car," I shouted as he pulled in a grocery store parking lot. He killed the engine and looked over at me. His hands were shaking, his eyes wide.

"What the hell just happened?" he exclaimed in a shaky voice. "That stupid idiot almost got us hit by a truck."

"You almost got us both killed trying to act all macho," I said, pointing accusingly at him. "You have way too much pride for your own good." I could feel a warm glow spreading over me. The HALO effect. It was as pleasant as lying in the warm sun.

Mason wiped at his brow and clutched the steering wheel. He was breathing heavily, scared as a small animal being hunted after by its predator. I could hear his pulse racing. I put my hand against his chest, felt the warmth flow out of my fingertips. The heartbeat slowed down, and the color returned to his pale face.

"You just saved my life," he said to me after a few minutes, staring intensely at me. "What are you, Lauren?"

"I'm just your coworker," I whispered back, as our gazes locked on one another.

He reached over and put a hand to the side of my face, cradling my jaw in his hand. Then he kissed me for the very first time. His lips were warm and soft, and then I didn't worry about anything else. We sat there for what seemed the longest time but was maybe a few minutes, with the rain pounding on the hood of his car. He pulled away finally and caressed my cheek gently with his thumb, in a fond way.

"Now I can see why Sherry likes you so much," I said with a wry grin.

Mason just smiled and shook his head. "You are such a tease," he chided. "I've actually been wanting to kiss you for a very long time."

"How long?" I asked.

"About a year," he admitted. "Off and on. But especially in the last few months."

"Me too," I said, no longer able to hide my smile.

"So where do we go now?" Mason asked, finally.

"Take me home, please," I said softly, laying a hand on his forearm. Mason didn't argue this time, and guided the Corvette carefully through the wet streets and into my driveway. I marveled at how that day's strange events had seemed to create a transformation between us.

As I opened the car door, Mason grabbed my arm. "Listen," he said. "Are you going to be OK? I really don't feel right about leaving you home alone. What if you pass out again?"

"Then come inside for a while," I said. He didn't hesitate at the offer. Mason gazed curiously at the family photos and paintings on the wall, and admired the black Steinway piano in the front room.

"Do you play?", he asked suddenly.

"No," I admitted sheepishly. "Sarah takes lessons. James grew up playing, and he wanted the same for all our kids. But Sarah is the only one who stayed with it."

"Can I play?" Mason asked, nodding at the piano.

"Go ahead," I said, figuring he would probably pound out a pathetic round of "chopsticks" and get me to join in. Instead, he winked at me and began playing the most beautiful Chopin piece I had ever heard, hitting every note perfectly. I didn't know the name, but recognized it as a piece James used to play to help the twins fall asleep at night.

"Wow," I breathed softly. "That was amazing. Why didn't you tell me you played piano? I would have had you give Sarah lessons."

"My mom was a concert pianist," he replied softly. "She taught me until I was thirteen."

"Oh. Does she still perform?", I asked.

Mason shrugged, "She passed away when I was a teenager. I still miss her," he replied softly, "We were pretty close."

"I'm so sorry."

Mason sighed. "I always wonder how my life would have been different if she was still alive. My mom had a gift for reading people, if they were good or bad, and what their intentions were, that sort of thing. Maybe she could have taught me to make better choices with the women in my life."

"Sometimes you don't know how a person really is, until you marry someone or live with them," I confided. "James was a college dropout when I met him. We were eighteen years old, and worked in a record store together. He didn't start his company until about eight years ago. That's when it all changed, and he started getting obsessed with work. I still haven't heard from him," my voice cracked, and I turned away, trying to keep my composure. It was starting to feel like a damned support group there between the both of us. "I got a credit card statement for him the other day, and it had recent activity on it, so I know he must be OK. I think it's obvious he's found someone else, and forgotten about us."

Mason nodded "Look, I get it. You've seen my nasty divorce. I won't judge. If you ever need advice, I'm here."

Divorce. I had always hated the word, yet it was inevitably going to become a reality, if I could ever reach James.

"I think I need a good strong drink," I replied instead, heading for the kitchen. "Do you want one?"

"What do you have?" he asked me, following me into the kitchen. I opened up the huge liquor cabinet James had built a year ago. He was an alcohol and wine connoisseur, and loved to collect different brands and vintages.

"This is James's collection, by the way," I announced. James had liked to collect things and had become almost obsessive over the last five years. There were piles of shoes in his closet, collectible knives and guns in the basement safe, and many other things.

"Holy cow," Mason breathed, he examined the bottles, reading the labels. "Your man James rolls with the big dogs. This is some top notch stuff" he said, admiring a bottle of expensive Russian vodka, which had been a gift from the Prime Minister of Tadjikistan. James had built his vast computer network and storage/archiving system last year.

"Do you want a White Russian?" he offered. "I used to do some bartending in college. I can still mix a few drinks."

"You're a pianist, a bartender, and a marketing guy with a corvette. Is there anything you can't do?" I replied with a smirk.

Mason rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know. I'm not sure if I can make you laugh, at least not today."

"I'd only laugh if you ripped your pants in front of a client, actually," I replied with a grin. "Now that would be something; Mr. Smooth Operator with his boxers showing."

Mason laughed. "Yeah, but I'd probably still close the deal; especially if they were silk boxers."

He mixed us up some drinks and we started talking about work, laughing about some of of the Orange Group's strangest clients. Mason divulged he had a female client last year offer to pay her huge invoice up front if he tickled her feet. I spat out my drink, I laughed so hard..

"I had to tell her I didn't have a thing for older women. She kept bragging about how often she got pedicures," he continued, laughing.

"What about Sherry? Did you offer to tickle her feet too?" I teased suddenly

Mason cleared his throat. "Hey now," he said in mock sternness. "Sherry was a one-time thing. We were both really drunk. Honestly, I hardly remember what happened between us."

I turned around and poked him in the chest. "You are such a liar," I whispered, looking up at him, and our gazes locked. I could feel something pulling us toward one another, a strong magnetism. Mason's arm encircled my waist and pulled me against him.

"Don't you worry about Sherry," he said in a deep voice. "She's not here. You are."

He kissed me again and I felt my pulse pick up a notch. This time, I didn't hold back. I stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him. The desire growing between us was quickly building up like a hurricane.

We ended up heading to my bedroom. He guided me to the bed, pushed me gently back onto it, took off his shirt and tie, and reached over for me. I closed my eyes as he began unbuttoning my pants, slowly taking off one leg and then the other. I squirmed as his hands ran over my body, trembling at his touch.

"Do you lift weights or something?" he asked as he mouth floated over my belly button, his hands unbuttoning my shirt and pushing it off of me. "Your body is perfect."

How could I explain the rapid transformation I had undergone? I chose to say nothing, letting my body do the talking instead. He didn't seem to care at my silence. I was hovering dangerously close losing control, when something else began to take over. My wings were beginning to quiver.

Not now, I thought desperately, not now!

I wanted to finish what Mason and I had started so badly. He whispered something to me, but I couldn't understand him. I could feel my wings expanding, threatening to take over and expose what I really was.

"Mason," I whispered hoarsely, fighting for control of myself, inside and out.

"Just let yourself go," he whispered back seductively.

"Mason, stop!" I commanded, and pushed him away with my feet.

He fell back on the floor with a thump. My mad dash for the doorway was a complete disaster. My wings burst out suddenly with tremendous force and a giant popping sound, lifting me up a few feet into the air. I must have given off a HALO also, the pent up energy bursting out of me as my wings freed. The light was so bright it enveloped the room like a flash of lightning and then died down as my feet touched the floor. Mason let out a cry of shock from where he sat on the floor by the bed. He crawled backward across the floor until his back hit the wall next to the window, and he stood, clutching the curtain behind him, His face was pale white, stunned and scared.

"What the hell are you?" he exclaimed.

I tried to cover my body, ashamed as Eve in the Garden of Eden. But my curves, my body, my wings seemed to be everywhere. I finally just gave up and sat down in the doorway, covering myself with my wings, and cried. This was not supposed to happen, I kept thinking. I had finally gotten my chance with Mason and now my secret was out. Everything was ruined.

"Lauren?" Mason called in a weak voice. I could tell he was fighting just as hard as me to regain his composure, "Are you an alien or something?"

I burst out laughing, my body shaking so hard that a few feathers came floating off my wings and into the air. I could feel him standing near me, looking cautiously, trying to figure out if it was safe to come near. My extra angel senses meant I knew exactly where he was and how he was feeling, even without looking at him.

"I'm an angel," I confessed.

"An angel?" he repeated, sounding confused. "Are you kidding me?"

I stood and covered my body with my wings, giving him a dark look. "I'm half angel, half human, Mason. It's called a Nephilim."

He just stared blankly at me. "How is that even possible?" he finally said, and it made me even more irritated.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," I finished. "No one is supposed to know. Especially not you."

"I think maybe I need another drink," I continued, tired of his hangdog stare, "Can you mix me up something good?"

He simply nodded before grabbing his clothes and heading off toward the kitchen. As I hastily threw on a tank top and shorts, I caught sight of myself in the large bedroom mirror across the room. My mascara had run down my cheeks in the shape of tears and my oval shaped face stricken with grief. As a child my grandfather had told me stories of fallen angels, those cast from heaven. I was surprised by how much the mental images I had made up of them as a child now matched my appearance. With all that had happened that day, was I falling from the grace of God already?
Chapter 18

Reality Comes Crashing In

Mason was drinking straight from the vodka bottle when I walked into the kitchen. He dropped the bottle in surprise when I walked into the room, but I swooped over and caught it. He flinched and backed up again, afraid.

"Relax," I said as I reached into the kitchen cupboard and grabbed a set of shot glasses. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

"Are you sure you're not an alien?" he questioned again.

"Of course I am! Better go call the mother ship," I joked, and started laughing. Mason relaxed a bit at my cheesy humor. He gulped down the first shot I poured.

"Last time I checked, aliens don't fight off demons, or save people who are jumping off buildings," I informed him then clamped my mouth shut, realizing I had already said too much. Crap, I thought to myself. Way to go, Lauren. Just dig that hole you're already in even deeper.

"Did you do that?" Mason asked, looking astonished.

"I can't really say," I replied and grabbed the vodka bottle, thinking that God and Nathaniel would soon have a field day with me, as I had no doubt violated too many of the sacred rules angels were bound to.

"Whoa! Slow down!" Mason exclaimed as I gulped down the entire bottle of vodka like it was bottled water. "Do you want to get alcohol poisoning?"

He grabbed the beautifully decorated glass Vodka bottle, but it was already half empty. I let out a huge belch as the liquor hit my stomach, and a flame erupted from my mouth, like a fire blower at the circus. The fire alarm went off, a piercing loud sound

"Great," I muttered darkly, and snapped my fingers twice. It shut off instantly. If Mason's jaw could have dropped any farther, it would have hit the floor. I poured him another shot, hoping the liquor would help reduce the complete shock he was experiencing. I was getting really tired of his amazed, stunned look. And I wasn't even naked, anymore.

"Do you have super powers?" he asked suddenly. "I've heard angels have them."

"Sort of," I replied, cringing inside, unsure as to how much I could really reveal.

"Like what? Can you fly?" he pressed.

"I'm not really supposed to talk about this with anyone. Angels are sworn to secrecy. We work directly for God."

"God?" Mason repeated, looking astonished.

"Yes. God. G-O-D," I spelled out irritably, shoving the liquor glass away from me. "The big man upstairs? That's him. And I'm going to be in huge trouble with him and Nathaniel when he finds out you know my little secret."

"I—I haven't believed in God in a really long time," Mason admitted, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Well, maybe you should," I muttered, and began to hunt in the fridge for something to eat. I came out with sandwich bread, smoked cheese and cold cuts.

"Want a sandwich?" I offered. Mason nodded. The silence between us in the kitchen was as heavy as a pound of bricks as we ate. My sensitive new makeup as a half angel meant my emotions were more intense, and my libido was still hopping like mad. It didn't help matters that Mason was still shirtless and had an incredible body. But he was pretty much frightened of me now that he knew the truth. I had to hide my bitter disappointment with a blank face.

"Are you going to tell me the truth, or just keep me guessing?" Mason finally demanded.

"Huh?" I replied, gazing absentmindedly at him.

"Who is Nathaniel? How long have you been a half angel? Does James know? Or the kids?"

I knew I shouldn't tell him anything more, but then remembered Mason wasn't the type to gossip, he was also halfway drunk by that point. I doubted he would remember much the next day.

"Nathaniel is a warrior angel," I replied slowly. "He's the one that transformed me. I was dying in that car crash, Mason. The impact had crushed my chest. Nathaniel saved my life. I don't know what he did, but all of a sudden I was fine. I didn't even have a scratch on me when I crawled out. Two days later I changed," I glanced out the kitchen windows at the rain pouring down onto the back patio, soaking the concrete and Roger's tricycles. "Nathaniel's the guy I was having lunch with, at the coffee shop," I said slowly. "He's been training me on how to be an angel, stuff like that."

"Does anybody else know?" Mason persisted.

I shook my head and gave him a stern look. "You're the only one, and it has to stay that way. You cannot say anything to anyone, ever. Do you understand?"

Mason backed up a few steps, looking afraid of me again. "OK, OK," he said softly. "Don't hurt me. I promise not to say a word."

"Angels don't hurt humans. We help them."

"So do you ever get to go back to your old self? To just being human?" he asked, still looking intrigued.

I shrugged. "This is like a big mistake. Nathaniel doesn't really have a real reason why God made this happen to me. Apparently, Nephilim are not really all that common anymore. Most of them caused so many problems they were wiped out in the great flood."

Mason gulped down his sandwich, shaking his head, "That's insane. This is like science fiction come true!"

"Are you OK?" he pressed. "You were bleeding from your ear today. You had passed out on the floor."

"I've been through a lot in the last few weeks. I've been helping people. I actually broke a man's suicide jump off a fourteen-foot building by diving underneath him. I don't really sleep at night anymore," I muttered, dropping tiredly onto the couch behind the kitchen area. "I get these signals from people in distress, and I can't really ignore them. I have to go help them, wherever they are."

"Shit," Mason muttered, and poured himself another shot of vodka.

"So is this the end of us then?" I asked tentatively, dreading his answer.

"You're like a superhero, Lauren," he said slowly before taking a bite of his sandwich. "Do you even know how lucky you are? God must have chosen you for a reason. I can't mess around with that."

"But I just want to be human again!" I wailed.

"Maybe you don't have a choice," Mason said, coming over to sit down next to me, and patted my leg sympathetically. "Maybe none of us do in life. Take my mom, for example. I didn't choose for her to die. But maybe God let her go, for whatever reason."

He rubbed my foot gently, and it sent chills up my spine. "Don't get me wrong," he continued. "You're amazing. What we had going on earlier was incredible. But you're an angel. And technically, you and James are still married. "

"I'm a half angel," I muttered. "And James has abandoned me and the kids. You know that."

Mason didn't say anything else. He patted my leg and wandered off to put on his shirt and shoes, asking about my coffeemaker as he felt tipsy. I pointed it out, and my eyes began to drift shut. I felt bone dead tired, like I hadn't slept in days. I could hear the coffee percolating and then felt him come over and kiss my cheek. After that, I fell into a deep sleep that was peacefully void of anything.
Chapter 19

Fire and Holy Water

The slam of the front door and Rodger's rough hug woke me up. I sat, bleary-eyed, to see that it was already 4:30 p.m. Where had all the time gone?

"How did you get home?" I asked, and he pointed at the front doorway, where Nathaniel was standing. I was used to Nathaniel just showing up out of nowhere, but his presence that day gave me the chills. He was wearing all black, and had his arms crossed. The stare he was giving me was anything but friendly.

"We need to talk. Right now," he said in a deep voice that commanded either respect or fear. Even Rodger turned to look at him with worried eyes.

"Nathaniel, I made you an angel in school today. Look!" he said with a tentative smile, and offered a simple paper cutout with scribbled crayon on it to my mentor. Nathaniel brushed him away with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Go play. Now, " he growled at him, and Rodger froze in fear.

"Rodger, why don't you go watch cartoons in the next room for a bit, and then I'll bring you a snack," I said in a loud voice that was so cheerful it almost sounded forced. "What would you like to eat?"

"Chicken nuggets!" Roger exclaimed with excitement and hurried out of the room, taking one last worried look at Nathaniel before he disappeared. I waited until the familiar sounds of the television was going in the other room before standing to face Nathaniel. His eyes were a darker color than I'd ever seen them before, and he had a heavy scowl on his face.

"What do we need to talk about?" I finally asked, feeling a bit dreadful.

"Today," he replied with a growl, and I knew I was in a lot of trouble.

"Let's go in the other room," I said softly. "I don't want to disturb Rodger."

Nathaniel followed me into my bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind us. The next thing I knew, he had me pinned up against the wall by the door with one hand on my neck, and the sharp blade of a fiery sword against it. It was so hot, it nearly burned to the touch.

"I told you being an angel was sacred," Nathaniel fumed, the irises of his eyes black against the whites. "You knew God prevents open contact between humans and angels. But you did it anyway, and now he knows everything. He knows who I am, and what you are."

"Look," I pleaded, my heart racing like I had just run a 100-yard sprint. "I didn't mean for him to find out. My wings burst out and it just sort of happened. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Knock him out, destroy him," Nathaniel snapped. "Put him to sleep and erase his memory."

Erase his memory? I thought. Could I really do that?

"Yes, you can," he replied, reading my thoughts. "I just haven't taught you yet."

"That wouldn't work," I replied, "Mason's my coworker. How am I supposed to go to work the next day if I've turned him into a vegetable or destroyed him?"

Unfortunately, Nathaniel didn't quite catch the humor in my words.

"That's your problem, not mine," he snapped. "And then you've been fornicating with him! You're an angel and you're still married!"

He began to pace up and down across the room like a mad man, the fiery sword still in his hand. I held my breath and prayed that it wouldn't catch the bedroom rug on fire. What was it with the word fornicate? It made me want to fall down laughing every time I heard the word, as if I was still a youth attending Catholic school.

"What about your husband?" Nathaniel continued. "You two made an eternal promise in the church to give yourselves only to one another!"

"Yes, what about James?" I countered, rolling my eyes. "Where in the hell is he? For over two months now, he's been completely invisible. He has abandoned me and our children. That's not exactly what I'd call a marriage."

Nathaniel's dark countenance softened a bit. "But you haven't annulled the marriage with James, and you haven't promised yourself to marry Mason either."

"Mason just got out of a nightmare divorce. I don't think he'll be getting married again anytime soon. Look, sometimes these things just happen. Especially when people are lonely. I'm sorry. It was really random. I screwed up. Okay?"

Nathaniel's face didn't soften a bit. "Intimate contact between angels and humans is punishable by death. You have to sever all ties with him immediately."

The words shocked me. I tried imagining my life without Mason. Without his early morning jokes, the way he listened to me, and we even celebrated together whenever we landed a new client. If I followed all the rules as a Nephilim then would it mean shutting myself into a dark world devoid of love and friendships? Even if James ever returned, I would never be able to fully become his wife again, since intimate contact with humans was now forbidden of me. It didn't seem fair at all, especially since I had never chosen to become a Nephilim. Nathaniel was the one who had transformed me.

Nathaniel's sword was still blazing as he walked over and stood in front of me.

"What'll it be, Lauren? Have you had a change of heart? Can you follow the rules?"

I suddenly realized the rules meant death either way. I could end it swiftly and feel no pain, or slowly die inside alone, letting the loneliness consume me.

"Never!" I growled, and jumped aside just as he brought down the flaming sword at me. It landed inside the bed, cutting the mattress down to the frame, and the sheets caught fire. Within moments, the bed was a blazing square of flames. Summoning all my strength, I tackled Nathaniel, knocking him backward into the dresser behind him. He pushed me so hard I went flying backward, crashing right through the wall on the opposite side of the room and into the closet, and landed in a pile of James's shoes. My husband liked to collect shoes; so there were a lot of them. Nathaniel flew across the room and landed inches from me, his sword blazing. The smoke detectors went off then. Nathaniel was taken by surprise, and began looking around at the walls and the ceiling, trying to figure out where that sound was coming from. I knew that I had a brief opportunity to escape then, and that it wouldn't last long.

Next to the closet door was a shelf filled with James's Catholic "relics" mostly a vial of holy water, a rosary and a crucifix, which any good Catholic should have. I reached over and grabbed them. Flames and smoke were rapidly filling up the room outside the closet. I had to get out of there. Nathaniel swung the sword at my head, and I barely had time to duck again. In the brief the moment he was off balance, I dove straight into his midsection, throwing him back through the closet door and into the hot room.

The heat in the room was so great; it felt like we were fighting on top of the sun. I opened the vial of holy water and tossed it on him. It splattered on his face with a horrible hissing sound, and steam rose from where it had hit him. The burn was nasty, the flesh bubbling and peeling. Nathaniel roared in pain, and I raised the crucifix like a dagger. Surprisingly, it worked. He leaped out the bedroom window with a terrible roar and disappeared.

The broken window brought a sudden rush of oxygen into the room, only feeding the fire even more. Within seconds, even the ceiling was engulfed in flames. On top of it all, I could hear Rodger crying for me in the hallway. Had I not been part angel, I am sure I would have suffocated or collapsed from the heat by this point. I took a deep breath and charged right through my burning bedroom door, thinking that all I wanted to do at that point was get out alive.

My house was 25 percent destroyed, according to the insurance company. My room and all the belongings inside were burned. I had been extremely lucky to survive unharmed. Roger had actually called 911 when the fire alarm went off, remembering the emergency training he'd learned in preschool. Firefighters had burst into the house just seconds after I came tumbling out of my burning room, choking from the smoke.

My twins came home to a singed house and firefighters rolling up hoses, running me through a gamut of reports as I sat in the front room, hooked up to an oxygen mask.

"Mom!" Sarah exclaimed, running over to my side. "Oh my God! What happened?"

She looked at my smoke-stained clothes and oxygen mask and began crying.

"It's OK, sweetie," I said, hugging her. "I accidently dropped a candle in my room, and the bed caught fire. That's all."

As pathetic as it sounded, it was the only logical excuse that I could come up with. The fire chief, a tall, man with a thick black mustache and thick forearms, came into the room then.

"Mrs. Heinz," he said. "Can I talk with you for a moment?" he asked in a brusque voice, taking off his hat and wiping the sweat tiredly from his dirty brow. I followed him into the hallway, where he stopped me with suspicious look just inches from my charred and now soaking wet bedroom.

"There's no candle in there, not even evidence of wax on the carpet or the bed," he said gruffly, pointing inside the room. "Your bed is split in half, all the way down to the frame. There are huge holes in the wall and the closet door was knocked off the frame. Why don't you just tell me what really happened?"

When I looked at him blankly, at a loss as to how to respond, he continued. "I've been at a lot of fires and crime scenes—probably hundreds to a thousand. Those holes are big enough for a person to fit through. Who else was in the house with you and your boy today?"

My stomach dropped, but I tried to hide my panic. "No one," I lied. "It was just me and Rodger. I was really tired, so a friend from work drove me home. But that was hours ago. Around noon."

"What was that person's name?" the fire chief asked, pulling out a notepad and pen from his front pocket.

"Who, my coworker?" I asked, trying to sound vague and surprised. "What does that matter? He wasn't here when the fire started. I already told you—it was an accident."

The stocky man glared at me and put a hand on his hip. "I see," he said. "So shall I tell the police or social services about the fact that you endangered your son's life by setting a fire in your own home while he was left unattended? What about the empty vodka bottles and shot glasses you and your coworker left on the kitchen counter?"

I gulped nervously. This was getting tougher to get out of by the moment. I tried to briefly remember how I had worked my magic on the paramedic that day I saved a suicide jumper. I tried giving him an intense stare, but the fire chief just glared back at me.

Another fireman, short and wiry, appeared then, holding up a black Calvin Klein wallet. "His name is Mason Ashfield. He left his wallet on the floor under one of the bar stools."

"That's perfect," the fire chief said, snatching the wallet from the other fireman's grasp and marching toward the front door. "We'll stop by his place on the way back to the station and have a little chat with him."

Without another word, they disappeared out my front door. I had to put my hand against the hallway wall to keep from falling backward in surprise. It was still as warm as an oven.

It was late evening when the kids and I pulled up at my mother's house in James's rickety old red car, the hood still dented and a layer of thick plastic taped over where the sunroof used to be. The poor vehicle looked like something hauled out of a dump. So much for my glamorous days of driving a shiny SUV.

"Don't tell me I have to share a room with Matthew again," Sarah groaned. Matthew sat in the backseat, staring out the window with the music on his iPod blasting so loudly I could have easily sang along with it.

"You can share a room with me instead," I offered, and Sarah sighed in relief.

"Good," Sarah finished. "Because he smells in the morning. He'll stink up the whole room."

"Shut the hell up, both of you," Matthew snapped, and got out of the car, slamming the car door behind him.

"Shut the hell up!" Rodger parroted from the backseat. I sighed. It was going to be a long night.

I caught up with Matthew at the front porch.

"Just what do you think you're doing, talking like that?" I demanded. When it came to discipline and respect, James and I had always been firm with our kids.

"What do you care?" Matthew snapped. "You're too busy getting drunk with your coworker and then setting the house on fire. So much for Dad, huh? Looks like it didn't take you long to replace him."

I felt the fury rise and explode within me. Without thinking, I slapped him hard across the face. It wasn't like me. James and I never hit our kids. Matthew blinked back tears, and then his face grew vengeful.

"I hate you," he hissed, and disappeared inside the house, slamming the door behind him.

Ditto, I wanted to say, but instead I bit my lip so hard it bled.

I hadn't seen my mother in a few months, but as always, she greeted me with open arms.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she hugged me. I fought back my own tears this time, but they still fell anyway.

"I'm fine," I tried to lie, and burst into sobs. I wondered how much longer I could keep up the charade, and before everyone else around me found out the truth.
Chapter 21

Desperation

I woke up at 6 a.m. the next morning to hear my cell phone vibrating on the desk in my mother's office, where Sarah and I slept on an inflatable mattress on the floor. It was Mason, and he sounded worried.

"Lauren Are you OK? I heard your house caught fire last night," Mason declared.

"Yeah, it did," I said curtly, and walked into my mom's kitchen, straight for the coffeemaker.

"What in the world is going on?" he demanded suddenly. "I had two firemen at my door yesterday, holding my wallet. They kept asking me if we got in a fight at your house. They knew we were drinking."

I dropped my head into my own free hand and sighed. "It's a really, long, complicated story. I'm sorry. You dropped your wallet in the kitchen yesterday and they found it when they came to put out the fire."

"Did you really set your house on fire?" he asked. I grimaced and paused, not sure about the correct answer.

"Well, kind of."

My mom was walking into the kitchen, and I wondered how I could explain the truth to him with her there. If anyone would believe me or could help me, it would have to be Mason.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, sounding confused and worried.

"I can't really talk about it right now," I replied. "Can you meet me somewhere?"

"There's a sports grill by Pebble Pier. That's not too far from you, right?"

"Yeah, it's close," I replied, pouring water into my mother's coffee maker.

"It's called Johnny's. Meet me there at noon. I have to head out and meet a client who's going to sign a contact. Be careful, Lauren. OK?"

I agreed and hung up the phone. His concern gave me some relief and comfort, for which I was immensely grateful.

Johnny's was dimly lit and wreaked of cigarette smoke. A few guys were already seated at the bar, beginning their holiday drinking early with a few pitchers of beer and a loud, playful argument. It wasn't much better outside anyway. The air was cold and foggy. I sat at a table by myself and ordered a blue margarita, figuring a good drink would help relax my mind. Soon Mason came swaggering in, dressed nicely. After our awkward passionate situation the day before, I wasn't sure how to greet him. He seemed at ease, and smiled lightheartedly and winked as he sat down across from me.

"Aw, I see you're starting the drinking without me today?" he teased, nodding at my margarita, the continued. "Tell me something. How did you down half a bottle of vodka without getting yourself drunk yesterday?"

I shrugged. "Maybe angels can't get drunk? We're like, super beings."

"Nice," Mason chuckled, and then his tone grew serious. "So what really happened yesterday?"

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "Nathaniel and I got into a fight, and the room sort of . . . caught on fire."

"He's the angel that you said changed you, right?" Mason asked.

I nodded. "I woke up on the couch a few hours after you left, and he was there. Rodger was home, so we went into my room to talk. He was furious. He knew about everything that happened between us."

"But how is that possible? Weren't we alone in the house?" Mason asked, his eyes wide.

"I thought we were," I admitted, lowering my head. "But I think he keeps very close tabs on me. He told me I had to break off all contact with you. When I said no, he tried to kill me."

"What?" Mason exclaimed. "How?"

"He had a weapon. A flaming sword," I replied.

Mason just looked away and shook his head in disbelief, "A flaming sword? No offense, Lauren. I can handle angels. But flaming swords are impossible. They don't exist."

"I know it sounds ridiculous," I explained. "But Nathaniel is a warrior angel. They don't use traditional weapons like we do. They don't normally fight humans, either."

Mason's silence brought a chill up my spine.

"You don't think I'm making this up, don't you?" I said.

Mason sighed. "It just seems all so unreal today, Lauren. I mean, we were pretty drunk yesterday. If you really are a—you know—" he stammered and looked around uncomfortably.

"Nephilim. I'm a Nephilim, Mason," I replied, staring hard at him.

"It just feels so impossible today. It's like everything is normal now. I don't even know if I believe in God anymore, let alone angels and demons."

"Why not?" I challenged.

Mason didn't answer me for a few moments. He fiddled with the beer the waiter had set in front of him, with the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

"It's pretty complicated," he muttered.

"Have you not been privy to my deepest secret?" I retorted. "Did you really think that was fun for me?"

Mason's tried to hide his smile unsuccessfully. "Well, you seemed to be having a pretty good time until the end. I mean, until it all came crashing down."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You know what I mean."

James once told me that every man's fear is being put on the spotlight, at least when they are not ready. Maybe he was right. Mason looked like he was sitting in the midst of a police interrogation.

"I haven't had an easy life, Lauren," he began in a strained tone. "My childhood was pretty messed up. My father was a total drunk. He used to come home and trash the house. Sometimes he beat my mom and me. My aunt and uncle lived nearby, and they used to take me to church sometimes. They said that God could help me through anything, and I used to believe it, until my mom committed suicide. She was the only one who loved me. I almost killed myself to be with her."

He paused for a moment, wiping at a tear threatening to slide down his face, readjusted his glasses and continued. "When my dad remarried, his new wife didn't want me around. I lived with my aunt and uncle until I was old enough to join the Marines, and I just left. Do you know how many times I asked God for love, for happiness? All I got was a divorce. Then there was the mess with my last girlfriend. Do you really think God cares if I die alone? My guess would be that he has far too many people to care for in this world to even notice me. If he even exists at all."

Mason grew quiet, and the anguish on his face was intense. It was a stark contrast to the upbeat, cheerful attitude he usually displayed.

"I'm so sorry. That's awful," I said softly, touching his arm softly, "Sometimes we go through bad things and there's not really a clear answer as to why. Sometimes it makes us stronger inside."

A pulse of heat lit up my hand and flowed onto his skin, making the small hair on his forearm stand up on end. He smiled. "You always bring out your little tricks," he said softly, grabbing my hand. "Just when I think you're going back to the old Lauren."

"What? You didn't like the old Lauren?" I teased, trying to hide my self-consciousness.

"I always liked you, from the first day we met," Mason objected. "But you were very hard to read—kind of lost inside yourself, I guess. But now you're different. It's like a light was turned on that wasn't there before," he paused before continuing, "Lauren, I'm not going to forget what happened yesterday between us. I just wish Nathaniel wasn't ruining it all."

Nathaniel. He was a new worry that I wasn't sure about. The Nathaniel I had last encountered seemed to be fighting off some type of evil influence. It worried me how far he would go to prove his point, in the name of God or whoever else he was now working for.  
"There's a slight problem with Nathaniel we might want to worry about," I began.

Mason raised his eyebrows worriedly.

"Well, maybe a major one," I admitted. "I have this feeling he's not done with me yet. Do you know what holy water is, Mason?"

"Of course I do. Every good Catholic knows about Holy Water," he boasted with a wink.

"James had a vial of it in the closet. When Nathaniel came after me, I threw it on him. I don't think Holy Water's supposed to burn God's angels."

Mason's eyes widened. "Lauren, maybe Nathaniel's not really an angel after all. They say the devil and demons can take on disguises, like appearing to be someone you could trust."

The chill that went through me was so intense that the lights in the restaurant flickered for a moment. Mason looked around in amazement.

"Did you do that?" he asked me in near disbelief. "I felt a chill pass through the room right now."

I shrugged. "I seem to have some sort of connection to other forms of energy sometimes. It's hard to explain."

The food came then, a huge platter of quesadillas, hot wings, and a salad. We ate in silence for almost twenty minutes, before Mason put his fork down. "Listen," he said. "I know you're not going to like this idea, but just hear me out."

I sighed. "Why does it always worry me when you say that? Like the time you convinced me to be a singing Elf telegram to that insurance company who kept dragging their feet with signing a contract?"

"Hey, it was a brilliant move," Mason insisted, trying to hide his laughter at the memory of me dressed like a Christmas Elf in his office, and how I was so nervous I drank an entire pot of coffee before I left to get the job done. "It actually worked. They signed the contract. And you were a pretty cute elf."

I picked up my napkin with a wry look.

"OK," he said, trying to act serious. "Here's my plan. I have a friend who's a priest. I play basketball at the gym with him every Thursday. I think he may be able to help you."

"How? Last I heard, priests can't exactly reverse the power of an angel."

"I mean with Nathaniel. A priest would know what to do. They perform exorcisms, things like that," he finished. "Look, I don't think even you know exactly what you're dealing with here. We need some help."

I shook my head doubtfully. "No one is supposed to know about what I am," I insisted shaking my head. "That's why Nathaniel came after me in the first place. All the things I did yesterday afternoon violated God's rules."

Mason bit his lip in worry. "Please, Lauren. This is not a game we're playing here. If something happens to you, you could end up seriously injured, maybe even dead."

"And you?" I replied. "What will you do if something happened to me?"

"I'll lose my best friend," Mason said quietly, looking directly at me. "I think you under estimate yourself too much. You matter more than you know, to many people."

"OK," I finally said softly.

Mason breathed a sigh of relief. "He works at St. Peter's by the Sea Church down the street. We can swing by there right now, if you want. I think he's preparing for the Mass tonight."

We stood to leave and paid the bill, splitting it in half.

"You should let me take care of it," Mason insisted, frowning at me.

"This isn't a date or anything," I shot back. "Don't worry about it." It had been so many years since I'd even been on a date that I could scarcely remember all those unwritten social rules.

Mason shook his head as he put his wallet in his back pocket. "You're awfully stubborn, Lauren," he said softly. "Like a little Tigress. Maybe I should ask you out. Just to see what you'd do."

Without another word, he headed for the front door. I just stared after him, completely shocked.

"Come on," he called over his shoulder. "We're in this mess together."

The wind was already starting to pick up again outside when Mason and I climbed in his car. He turned on the engine and we drove a mile or two along the coast, stopping at St. Peter's by the Sea Church. Mason parked the car just outside the church, and shut off the engine.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed suddenly. "I totally remember this church! James and I used to go here sometimes, and Sarah had her first choir performance here!"

Mason had a tense look on his face, and he was quiet and he placed his car keys in his pocket.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"My ex-wife and I got married here, in this church. We even got baptized together a few months before," he said in a low tone, trying to mask his feelings.

"Why didn't you tell me before we came here?" I asked. "I don't want to be dredging up old memories for you or anything."

Mason cleared his throat and shook his head. "Lauren, its fine. Don't worry about me. We're here to help you get some answers."

He opened the door and I grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. "Are you sure about this?"

Mason's smile was easy as he removed my hand, squeezing it in his. "Seriously? I'm a grown man. I'll be just fine."

I followed him into the church, where the sound of organ music filled the air. A priest, dressed in a traditional heavy white robe, was playing. Mason and I stood next to the organ for just a few minutes, watching him play. When he finally finished, he looked up and saw Mason and I watching. His eyes widened in surprise, and a smile broke out on his face as he recognized Mason. The two hugged each other and chatted for a few minutes about basketball.

"Andrew, this is my friend Lauren," Mason announced, pointing to me. "She has some questions about religious things we were hoping you could answer."

Andrew turned and shook my hand. He was nearly as tall as Mason, but had a well-trimmed red beard and thick red hair that he kept well-trimmed. He was a bit on the heavier side and had a jolly looking face, reminding me of an overgrown Irish leprechaun.

"What sort of questions do you have?" he asked me, and I hesitated, not knowing where to begin.

"It's kind of a long story," I replied.

"Please, sit down," he urged, pointing to the empty pew to the left of us.

I plopped down onto the seat next to Mason, and began reciting my entire story, up to the point where Nathaniel tried to kill me. Andrew listened attentively, nodding occasionally throughout the entire story.

"What is it you would like from me?" he asked suddenly.

"I need advice on how to deal with Nathaniel," I replied. "What if he comes back to destroy me again?"

He sighed heavily. "I see you're married?" he asked, looking down at the gold band on my ring finger.

I blushed heavily, but nodded. "Yes."

"Where's your husband?" he asked softly.

I glanced up at Mason, and we exchanged brief, guilty glances before Mason turned away to check his phone.

"My husband disappeared while working on an overseas project. The American Embassy did an investigation and determined he likely just left. He's basically abandoned the family," I replied stiffly.

Andrew nodded and finally spoke more freely than before. "It's very hard on the surviving parent when a spouse leaves, especially if there are children involved."

"Yes," I replied. "We have three kids together. So, what's your point?"

"Sometimes, when a parent is under extreme stress, they might tend to start wishing things were a different way. I've seen people under enormous amounts of mental stress begin to start hallucinating or become delusional, among other things," he replied quickly.

Mason and I exchanged dreadful looks, and I felt my heart sink.

"I'm not crazy," I insisted. "This really did happen to me. Please, you have to believe me!"

Andrew reached over and put his hand on my arm. "I'm sure it feels very real to you, and I'm not discounting that."

Mason's phone rang then and he glanced at the caller ID, frowned, telling us it was a client call he had to take. He walked off slowly down to the church lobby, talking in a hushed tone on his phone.

Suddenly, Andrew walked over and sat next to me on the pew, so close it made my angel wings bristle.

"How long has this been going on for, this whole thing?" he asked softly.

"At least five or six months," I replied softly. "Why? I thought you didn't believe me."

"You're not the only one this has happened to, and you won't be the last," he suddenly declared after a moment of silence. I noticed he was watching Mason pacing up and down by the lobby, deeply engaged in his phone call with a client from work.

"There's something you should know about Mason," Andrew continued, turning back to face me. "This whole situation is not something you should involve him with. He's a nice guy, but it's simply too much for him."

"Why?" I demanded. "So far, Mason is the only one who's been there for me."

"Mason's faith isn't strong enough for this," Andrew replied in a low voice. "Lauren, he still has doubts in his own heart about God and whether or not he really exists. You're dealing with a supernatural battle here, and that alone can be enough to make even the most devout Priest or Catholic doubt their faith."

He sighed. "Part of what the devil and his angels like to do is make those with faith doubt their beliefs or the very cause they fight for. I've seen fellow priests leave the faith after having to be involved in exorcisms or other supernatural events. It's not for the faint of heart, Lauren. Whatever faith Mason even has is fragile at best. He's been through a lot in the last few years, a nasty divorce, a miscarriage, and a few other break ups."

"I didn't know Mason almost had a child," I said softly.

"It was with his ex-wife," Andrew whispered. "And this stays between you and I. Few people knew, but it really affected him very deeply. He started to doubt his purpose in life. He's always wanted to be a father. It's something he's talked about ever since I've known him. It's only in the last few months that I've been able to get him to even consider attending church at all. "

Andrew stood suddenly.

"Follow me. I have a few things to show you," he declared.

I reluctantly trailed behind him down a hallway to his office, where he shuffled through a stack of books and photo albums on top of an old metal filing cabinet. After a few minutes, he opened and handed me a scrapbook he'd filled with news articles. He'd scribbled brief observations on post it notes and taped them to the bottom of the articles. As I read through, it was clear that each was a personal account of a human's near death experience they had miraculously survived. The stories claimed a bright being had come down and rescued them. Andrew's writings on the post it notes documented when he had met with some of them, and the victims claimed that someone had been following them since then.

"Some of these happened nearby here," I commented as I read through them and pointed at the last one. "This happened last April!"

"Nathaniel," I whispered. "I wonder if that's him in those articles. You know, I could have sworn I saw him a couple of times before the accident. There was a bald guy in the airport that same day that was watching me and my younger son. He must have been watching me for awhile."

Andrew's eyes widened. "You mean the angel that saved you?" he asked, and when I nodded, the priest continued. "Yes, it does sound like him. I don't doubt you're the only one this has happened to"

I stood and pulled off my jacket, stretched my arms and let my wings flow out. I wanted him to see for himself that I was truly a Nephilim, if there was any chance he could be of help. Andrew was so shocked he leaned too far back in his chair and fell over. All I heard was a crash, and saw his feet go flying up into the air. When he got up and hobbled over, holding his lower back, his face was full of awe.

"My God," he breathed, circling around me, touching a few of the long white feathers on my wings. "You're really not lying. You've been transformed."

"I'm a Nephilim. Half angel, half human," I nearly whispered, almost embarrassed or ashamed.

"Absolutely breath-taking," he said suddenly. "You're beautiful."

When I raised my eyebrows, he stammered. "I mean, I've never seen a human actually transformed like this. I've always been fascinated with angels, ever since I was a child. My grandmother was a Holocaust Survivor. She was about five years old, when she managed to escape with a few other children out of the camp. They wandered for miles until a farmer found them and rushed them to an orphanage. She told me a being of light, a person with wings, guided them out of the camp, in the middle of the night. She thought it had to be an angel that brought them to safety."

"She could be right," I answered. "Angels are sent to help humans in need or in danger."

"How did this happen to you?" he asked. "Did this angel give you the choice to become like this?"

"No," I replied softly, folding up my wings and placing my jacket back on slowly. I sat down heavily onto the chair across from his desk and told Andrew about my random transformation and passing out in my backyard.

Andrew walked over and sat across from me, his look concerned, quite serious. "So you were forced into this, then?" he asked.

"Yes. I've told Nathaniel to reverse this so many times. He said it may be too late to change things, now that it's a part of my DNA," I replied softly.

"What is it you want, Lauren?" Andrew continued softly, "And what do you want from me."

"I just want my life back. My human life," I answered slowly. "Can you help me with that?"

The priest sighed heavily, thinking. "I'll see what I can do," he finally offered.

Andrew stood over me and anointed my forehead with oil, sprinkled holy water on my head, and said a brief prayer in Latin. He placed another vial of Holy Water in my hand, and then he poured some out of another vial into a glass of water.

"This should completely protect you," he continued as he handed me the cup. When I just stared at it in surprise, he ordered. "Drink it. Go on."

I gulped it down in a few quick swallows, and as I was doing that he began to say a second prayer in Latin, and put his hand on my shoulder. The minute the water hit my stomach, something within me began to change. I felt a cold sensation, like ice, spreading out into my body.

"What's happening to me?" I asked, and then I must have blacked out after that. I don't recall hearing Andrew's response or much of anything else. When I came to, we were out of his office, and he was walking me back inside the main area of the church, where the congregation gathered for services, his arm around my waist to steady me. The iciness in my body was gone, but I struggled to figure out what had happened between the time I drank holy water, and the current moment I was in. Mason was just finishing his phone call when we walked back to him.

"Everything OK?" he asked, glancing back and forth between us.

"It's fine. Absolutely fine." I quickly lied. "Andrew and I were discussing the Bible and faith."

"I'll be praying for you and your family, Lauren," Andrew added with a smile and a quick wink that only I could see. He walked us to the entrance and said good bye to Mason, promising to see him at the next basketball game.

"How did everything go?" Mason asked as we climbed in the car. "Did he have any advice for you?"

I shook my head and tried to fake the most disappointed look I could muster.

"He thinks I'm delusional," I lied. "Totally bat-shit crazy."

Mason looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. "Back to square one?" he guessed.

I sighed and leaned back in the seat as he pulled the car out of the church parking lot. "Yep. Sadly."

"I just closed the Falkner Chemical Company deal," he declared suddenly. "It's a $100,000 contract."

"You did?" I replied in surprise as Mason turned the car back toward the main road that lead to the shipyards and docks along the bay, by where we had been eating lunch.

"Yes. Lauren, what did you say to him last time you guys talked on the phone?"

I shrugged. "I honestly can't remember."

"He said he was signing on because of you. That you helped him figure out how to help his teenage daughter, and she's doing better now. I guess she's been in and out of the hospital with mental health issues, and that's why he hasn't returned my calls. He said she's home now, and she's finally gone back to high school.," Mason continued, looking puzzled. "Lauren, is that true?"

I scratched my head. "I don't know. I'm having trouble remembering. I'm sorry," I lied.

"Lauren, you can't get so personal with clients like that. It's unprofessional," he warned.

"Would you prefer I just kept shoving our contract down his throat?" I countered, "Because he was literally crying when I called him on the phone, and he thought it was the hospital calling. But he was nice enough to talk to me anyway. Mason, when someone opens their heart to you, you don't turn around and sell them something. He didn't want an advertising contract at that point. He wanted a listening ear. That's all I did, and he listened. He asked me for some advice at one point, so I gave it to him."

Mason just gave me a baffled look." That's like the complete opposite of all the sales training they gave us at The Orange Group," he said softly, and I simply shrugged.

"But it worked!" Mason continued, his face bursting into a smile. "Lauren, I think you're onto something here. It's genius!"

I didn't want to brag, so I tried to just smile and nod, but I had to whisper, "Of course I am," which only made him laugh.

Deep inside, though, I couldn't get my mind off the feeling that something had changed within me, quite suddenly. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Mason pulled his Corvette back into the parking lot next to Johnny's restaurant, where we'd eaten lunch earlier. He killed the engine and looked over at me with a sigh.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asked suddenly. "It's so nice out here today."

"At least until it starts raining again," I muttered, opening my door and stepping out. We walked slowly together along the nearby boat docks, silently enjoying the afternoon. Any warm sunshine had already faded, bringing in the dreary Seattle cold. But the day was still beautiful, the sky a pure blue. Fishing boats and small sailboats bobbed in the bay waters next to the docks, and hungry seagulls circled overhead, crying and searching for food.

"Wait a moment," I told Mason, and climbed over the dock railing to stand on the wooden platform just inches from the water. I closed my eyes and took in the sounds of the water lapping against the boats and the docks, the smell of salty water and gutted fish. I heard wind chimes and a small dog barking in the distance and then a small voice, slowly growing louder.

"Do you hear that?" I asked Mason, and he shook his head, giving me a curious look.

I saw him then. A small boy had just fallen off the opposite end of one of the long boat docks, which was about a football field's length away from us, with rows of boats and docks between us and where he was. He was trying to doggy paddle and keep his head above water, and was choking on sea water as he went under.

"Oh my God!" I shrieked, and tore off my jacket then dove head first into the water without another word, but my wings never opened like they normally did. I took off swimming as fast as I could toward the boy, who was at the opposite end of the pier. Mason shouted after me, but I hardly heard his yelling over the waves slapping up against the boats and the docks. There was about four rows of docks and boats that ran horizontally from where I had been standing, and where this child was drowning. I was determined to get there as quickly as possible, meaning I had to swim around boats, dive under ropes and swim underneath the wooden docks, sometimes pushing through tangles of seaweed and around old fishing nets that had gotten caught on the edge of the wood. But I wasn't getting there any faster, and it felt like I was somehow weakening. I kept pushing out my arms to open my wings, but they never came through and I wondered if they were even there anymore. Mason was racing down the dock after the path I made, following my splashing and diving toward the drowning child. I arrived too late. The boy was already limp in the water, sinking to the bottom when I reached him, and I was breathless, which wasn't the norm for me as a Nephilim. I dove downwards and grabbed him around the waist, clutching him to my chest, and swam upwards.

My lungs felt like they were going to explode by the time I surfaced and I swam to the dock, finding my strength quickly fading. Mason caught up with me and pulled the boy up onto the wooden dock, laying him out on his back and then help me out of the water. The boy's body was completely limp as we knelt over him, and cold to the touch, almost as frigid as the water near us.

"He's not breathing," I wheezed. I put a hand on his chest and concentrated, but nothing happened.

"Lauren, forget about that magic stuff!" Mason snapped at me. "He needs CPR!"

He pushed me aside suddenly, and gently pumped several times on the boy's stomach. Water burst up out of the child's mouth. Then Mason checked for a pulse.

"There's nothing," he gasped. "Oh my God . . . I hope he's not dead."

Minute after minute slowly ticked by as he performed CPR on the child. Nothing was happening. A group of people were surrounding us soon, boat owners and tourists. Someone held the boy's head in place while Mason continued trying to revive him. Another person called 911 on their cell phone. I put my hand on the boy's wrist and watched fanatically for any sign of a pulse. By the time the paramedics arrived, the boy was so cold his skin was freezing Mason's face.

"It doesn't look good," Mason said grimly as they worked on the boy. "I don't think he'll make it."

He pulled off his glasses and wiped at the tears that were starting to stream down his face. I was crying just as hard as him, covering the small sobs that came out of my mouth with my hand, until I could sob no more.

"Where is this boy's mother or father?" I demanded, and Mason pointed over to the white and blue schooner from which the child had fallen. A woman was lying asleep still in a beach chair along the back of the boat, oblivious to her now dead child. Empty beer cans were littered all around her.

"I'm going to wake her up and give her a piece of my mind. Stupid drunk," Mason hissed angrily. "She just let her son drown."

I had to hold him back and direct him to the police instead, who had just arrived. As Mason gave them a full report, the paramedics stopped CPR on the boy and covered him with a white linen sheet. One of the cops pulled out a black body bag, and two cops headed over to wake up the boy's neglectful mother. I burst into tears again, sobbing uncontrollably. With all the different parts of me, angel and human, I was suddenly powerless to save a single, small life. I felt like the biggest failure in the world, and I couldn't understand why my wings were no longer working, and my powers were diminishing so quickly. I kept thinking it had a lot to do with visiting Andrew earlier in the church, and that glass filled with Holy Water I'd consumed. But how could a little holy water have such a strong effect? After all, wasn't it just water?

If Mason hadn't been there to calm me down and help me get through the police reports, I probably would have transported to the hospital for anxiety. It seemed like forever before we were finally done, and the sky was darkening with heavy rain clouds. Mason guided me to his car. As soon as I got inside he started the heater and rubbed my hands between his, trying to warm me up.

"You're usually warmer than this," he said, starting to shake slightly from my chilly skin. "Something must have happened to you."

"It's my fault," I choked, fighting back tears again. "I should have been able to save him. I failed him."

Mason shook his head, a convicted look on his face. "That's not true. I couldn't bring him back either. All the CPR in the world didn't do a damn thing. Maybe it was time for him to pass on. He could have been sick or had some kind of health condition."

Mason's face was tired and worn as he pulled the car out onto the road. "Let's not talk about this anymore, OK?" he pleaded. "I just don't want to think about it. It's awful."

As the car pulled into the wet streets I fell asleep, utterly exhausted again and confused. As soon as the action was over, it seemed I just ended up crashing.
Chapter 22

Holy Water and A Bitter End

At four o'clock that day Andrew eagerly began to lock up the church, intending to catch a nap before the 7pm mass that night. He'd slept no more than maybe half an hour on the couch in his office, when he heard crash down the hallway. Andrew sat and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Hello?" he called, wondering if Lauren and Mason had returned. They'd left several hours ago after he'd given Lauren a glass of Holy Water to drink and prayed a Gregorian prayer of protection and transformation over her, hoping it would diminish some of her angel powers. As a priest, he had traveled the world and seen many unspeakable things: human stigmatas, exorcisms, demon possessions and more, but Lauren's transformation into a Nephilim was by far the most shocking of all.

There was no answer to his call, but a door down the hallway creaked slowly open, meaning someone really was in the church. Andrew grabbed the nearest blunt object he could find, which was a thin metal pole used to secure one of the church windows. He walked slowly down the hallway clutching it, and into the main area of the large church, by the pulpit and the altar, which faced row after row of pews. A doorway led into the front annex where the main entrance to the church was. The room was empty as far as he could tell, but the wooden doors connecting the church to the front annex swung back forth as if someone had passed through them.

"Who's there?" Andrew shouted, feeling spooked. "Show yourself!"

There was a commotion suddenly to the left side of him and he saw a pile of church bulletins go flying up into the air, as if someone picked them up and flung them everywhere. Then, about a dozen pews away, the same thing happened, and again a few more rows down. Andrew felt chills run through his body and his pulse started to race. He began to whisper the Lord 's Prayer under his breath as he clutched the metal pole tighter, gripping it like a baseball bat.

"Why are you so scared, if God's supposed to be on your side?" someone suddenly asked.

The voice came from behind him. Andrew whirled around to find himself facing a large, hulking angel, his black and white wings spread out, so heavy they nearly dragged on the floor. He perfectly matched the description Lauren had given him of the angel that had transformed and attempted to kill her. It was Nathaniel. He was bald and huge, his body lined with powerful muscles.

Andrew noticed his eyes first. They weren't a piercing blue, like Lauren had described. They had become almost black, and he had a large burn that covered the side of his face. It had blistered and begun to scar over. Nathaniel was walking toward Andrew with a rather menacing look.

"Are you Nathaniel?", Andrew asked, and Nathaniel just smirked. The priest back away as the angel continued to move forward. "Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"Is that any way to greet an angel in the house of God?" Nathaniel mocked.

The angel pushed him backward so he stumbled down the last steps from the altar, toward the pews.

"What happened to your face?" Andrew dared to ask.

"Just a little casualty of war," Nathaniel replied curtly, "Where's Lauren?" he demanded, his face dark

"She's not here. There's nobody here."

"Really, that's funny. Because I can still smell her scent," the angel insisted. "In fact, it smells like Nephilim everywhere!" His voice was loud and manic sounding.

"She did come here earlier. With a friend," Andrew admitted. "But they didn't stay for very long."

"Why? Why would she come to see you, of all people? You must really be something special," Nathaniel mocked.

"Prayer and encouragement. It's a part of my ministry here at the church."

"And you reversed her powers. Everything, gone, with a little Gregorian prayer and a glass of Holy Water. How the hell could you even consider destroying the only Nephilim that's existed in the last 3,000 years?" Nathaniel exclaimed, his voice turning into a shout.

"She asked for my help. You've put her life in great danger. What else was I supposed to do?" Andrew replied, but he barely finished talking before Nathaniel raced forward with lightning speed and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hitting him so hard his nose instantly broke. Andrew swung the metal pole he was holding wildly, but it seemed to just bounce right off the angel's rock hard muscles, not affecting him in the slightest. His eyes watered and his nose burned with pain as Nathaniel hit him in the stomach. He then began to drag the priest toward the annex area of the church, where the holy water receptacle was, a huge round tank about two feet deep.

"No, please," Andrew begged as Nathaniel dragged him toward the holy water container.

"I gave her life purpose when it had none. So how could I possibly be endangering her?" Nathaniel demanded.

Andrew fought against the angel, with all his might, even shouting out commands in Latin from an exorcism he had memorized.

"Nice try," Nathaniel mocked. "But I'm still an angel. That stuff only work on demons."

The angel shoved Andrew's head under the water, holding it down until the man began to choke. Andrew was gasping for air when Nathaniel pulled him back up. He coughed and spat up water.

"You welcomed Lauren and the man she was fornicating with into this church before you took away her powers. Do you not have any morals?" the angry angel demanded.

Andrew coughed so hard he vomited everywhere. Nathaniel looked at him and the mess with disgust.

"Go to your God now," he said in a voice filled with pure hatred. "You tell him he's failed me. I was one of the most powerful angels. I was a leader and he ignored my talents. I'm my own God now."

"You've let your pride take over," Andrew warned. "You must ask for forgiveness. You must humble yourself." Andrew managed to gasp before Nathaniel lowered his head under the Holy Water again, holding it down until he stopped struggling and drowned completely. The angel's hand burned horribly and he finally looked down to realize that the flesh had been burned right off from the holy water. It was nothing but a skeleton, pure bone.

"No!" he shouted in horror and anger, and looked at the wall, a painting of Jesus hanging on a cross.

"Curse you!" he screamed, "You were never worth the trouble!"

A million angry thoughts filled his head and he opened his mouth the scream again, but all he could unleash was a piercing yell of rage, like a wild animal. Seconds later he was hit so hard from behind that he fell forward onto his knees and everything around him began to spin.

Rafael was standing behind him. He grabbed the back of Nathaniel's neck and slammed his head into the edge of the Holy Water receptacle several times until he went completely limp then dropped him on the floor next to the dead priest.

"What a waste of talent. Stupid traitor," Raphael muttered in disgust. Two other angels, Zariah and Ezrial, came walking in and they froze at the sight of the dead priest and the wounded angel.

"What happened?" one of the asked, staring at the mess on the floor, the holy water receptacle stained with blood and vomit.

"Clearly he's parted from any loyalties he had to God. He's a fallen one now," Raphael replied. "and a murderer."

Zariah bent down and felt for a pulse on the priest's neck. "He's gone too. Drowned, likely," he announced, shaking his head.

"What shall we do with Nathaniel?" he asked.

"Send him where he belongs," Raphael replied and pulled out his HARP, dialed a number.

"It's me. Raphael," he said into the device. "I have Nathaniel; like you asked. I can deliver him right now. He's unconscious."

After a moment he nodded and put his phone down for a moment, not yet hanging up the call.

"Take him outside first," he told the angels.

Zariah and Ezrial dragged Nathaniel outside and Raphael closed the door to the church before finishing his call.

"This is the last time," he said in a firm tone. "No more favors and no more deals. I could lose everything if they found out I was talking to you."

The senior angel sighed heavily as he hung up the phone and walked outside where the other two were waiting for him, the two angels that were just at the end of their long training, before God assigned them to their separate callings. Raphael pulled out what looked like a small red laser pointed and aimed it at the side of the church, cutting out a door shape with what looked like a fiery laser coming from the handheld device. It quickly began to glow brightly, a portal into another dimension.

"Take him to Belzebub," Raphael ordered. "I'll take care of the priest."

"To hell? Are you sure? Shouldn't we bring him before God first?" Ezrial asked, looking hesitant.

"Just do what I say!" Raphael shouted suddenly, his face looking wrathful, before he calmed down enough to explain. "Sometimes we have to change the rules for certain situations. This is one of them."

When the angel still looked uncertain, he firmly added. "You answer to me now. It's a direct order. Don't question me again!"

The two angels nodded, looking nervous as they disappeared into the portal, carrying Nathaniel with them. Raphael went back to the church and called for an ambulance, then walked off as the emergency vehicles came driving up to the church.
Chapter 23

Changing Hands

I slept for hours, suffering through anxiety filled dreams brought on by all the events of the last few days.. I woke up in a darkened room, in a place I had never been before. Why in the world do I keep waking up in weird places? I wondered as I peeled back the sheets on the found my way over to the wall and flicked on a light switch. Photos from the 70s and 80s adorned the walls. After a while, I realized it was pictures of Mason growing up. His transformation from a curious, blue eyed schoolboy with oversized glasses to a sullen teenager and then to a handsome Marine made me smile. A photo of a woman with the same easy going smile hung on the wall behind his bed. It must be his mother, I thought, trying to imagine how sad he must have felt at losing his mother at such a young age. I was in his house, but I didn't remember how I'd gotten there. As I made my way out of the room and down the hallway, I was amazed at the dozens of travel photos he'd taken, everywhere from South East Asia to Italy, even Russia. Mason had never told me about his travels. It made me wonder how much I really knew about him.

"Ah, sleeping beauty awakens," a voice boomed from across the room, and I turned to find him lounging in a black leather recliner with his laptop, a wiry small mutt with white hair asleep by his feet.

"Did I fall asleep in your car?" I asked absentmindedly.

"Knocked out cold, snoring like a baby," he teased. "You really have to get a handle on this random sleeping issue of yours. I'm starting to worry you have narcolepsy or something. Just don't start falling asleep in client meetings."

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he laughed.

"Is this your house?" I asked softly, and he nodded.

"I didn't want to wake you, you looked so tired. I had no idea where your mom's house is, so I carried you into my guest room and put you in bed," he admitted.

"It's nice here," I said, admiring more travel photos on the walls. "Did you take these pictures?"

He stood and walked over next to me. "Most of them. I've barely been able to get this place back to normal since Shana left."

"Did she trash it or something?" I asked, staring at a close-up photo of an old tree stump he'd taken, probably in Asia. It had thousands of intricately aging circles inside that wound over and over each other. If I was alone and stared long enough at it, I could get lost in the designs.

"She decorated it with some weird renaissance type trim all over the walls," he said, rolling his eyes. "She was into collecting old steel wine goblets and fake fruit bowls, all sorts of strange stuff. The only decent thing she ever brought home were those renaissance style corsets. Now, those were hot."

I laughed, picturing Mason sitting at a large dinner table staring at a fake fruit bowl and clunky looking, oversized renaissance silverware with horror.

"I guess I got lucky with James in that area, I mean as far as decorating. We hired an interior designer who came up with something we both liked. He was usually too busy for much of anything at all."

"You still haven't heard from him?" Mason inquired.

"No. I'm wondering if something serious didn't happen to him."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe he ran into some trouble. Singapore's not like here. The police can get really militant, and I'm not sure they'd notify the embassy if he was arrested for something."

"And there are those terrorists groups too," Mason interrupted.

My stomach dropped. I was starting to feel sick with worry, once again.

"Sorry," he said softly noticing the nervous look on my face. "I was stationed there in the military for five months, so that was something we had to deal with. But, let's not think that way. James could be fine. He could be lounging in a brothel with a group of hot babes."

Mason winced when I punched him in the arm, not holding back this time. "Ow! OK, angel girl. No more cheap shots. You're way stronger than you look."

"You think so?" I replied, and grabbed him by the waist, trying to toss him down. Mason surprised me by deflecting my efforts, and I suddenly found myself tossed gently to the floor, lying on my back with him just above me, kneeling on the floor, and he'd even caught my head with a gentle hand before it could touch the floor.

"What in the hell just happened?" I asked, staring at him in surprise.

"I used to be in the Marines," he explained with a laugh. "We did lots of combat training. Are you surprised?"

His eyes searched mine, and the magnetism between us suddenly came back full force. I could feel the attraction between us growing stronger as we gazed into each other's eyes, and then I was grabbing him by the front of the shirt, pulling him down toward me so I could kiss him. Again, despite Nathaniel's warnings and the fiery battle I'd faced in my own home, I was falling for Mason. We couldn't resist each other any longer. Outside, the wind began to howl as the last of the storm rolled in, water pounding on the windows. Mason's clothing rustled as it hit the floor, and then mine followed.

"Lauren," he said as he turned me on my stomach, gently touching the area between my shoulder blades. "It looks like your wings are gone. Maybe you're not part angel anymore. Maybe that's what's changed."

Relief flooded through me. I felt his hands exploring every part of me as if they never wanted to stop. Then I was riding on the highest wave of pleasure I had experienced in a long time, and I didn't care about anything else anymore. Right, wrong, angel, human, whatever. I whispered Mason's name, and it was like a song in my head, our bodies melding together until I couldn't tell one from the other.

An alarm was ringing, the sound more relentless by the second. Someone reached over and swatted it silent. It was morning, the next day. I was lying in a bed as warm and soft as a cocoon, with my eyes still closed. I rolled over and bumped into someone's warm back. My fingers trailed up the base of the spine, trying to figure out if it was James, who had a large scar just below the back of his neck from a childhood accident. Instead, I opened my eyes to see a Semper Fi Tattoo on the shoulder blade, adorned with blazing guns. Mason rolled over, opened his eyes, stared at me for a moment, and smiled.

"Did we fall asleep in here?" he asked with a yawn. He had morning breath. I could tell that my hair was rumpled and probably a huge mess. It was 6.a.m., and the awkwardness between us was intense. What do you say to somebody the morning after? I'd never been in that situation before.

My cell phone, which was sitting on the bedside table, was vibrating relentlessly. Mason reached over and picked it up.

"Uh oh," he declared, handing it to me. "It looks like your mom's been burning up your phone. Did you stay out past your curfew again?" he teased with a laugh.

I swatted him on the backside as he climbed out of bed. I went through my text messages while he showered in the adjacent bathroom, singing to himself. My mother was frantic that I had left her alone with my kids and not called to check in. Mostly, she was worried that something had happened to me. She answered my call on the second ring.

"What in God's name?" she burst out, "Where have you been? You just left and I didn't hear from you."

"I was at a friend's house and I fell asleep. I was just so exhausted. I'm sorry."

"Well, the insurance company called twice for you about your house. James is here. He flew home last night and he called me this morning. You need to come home Lauren."

I was so stunned that I dropped the phone on the floor. I was starting to miss my indestructible HARP, which had been missing since Nathaniel's disastrous last visit.

"Everything OK?" Mason asked. He was standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Water drops were falling from his wet hair onto his broad shoulders. Reliving the previous night was suddenly a tempting thought. My voice was locked in my throat as I picked up my cellphone.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he came over and grabbed one of my hands. His gaze and his touch was almost protective. I had hadn't felt that from anyone in years, but I was at a loss for how to respond to him.

"James is back," I whispered hoarsely. "He's at my mom's house. I guess he just flew in last night."

Mason's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

I nodded, Fear rolled over and over in my head, like a windmill that just kept turning around.

"I don't get it," Mason snapped as he got dressed. "He hasn't called or emailed you in almost six months. Then he just shows up out of the blue as if nothing happened. What in the hell is wrong with him, Lauren?"

I couldn't answer. Instead, I found my clothes and got dressed.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Mason said softly, coming up behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist, resting his head on my hair. "You can stay here today, just hang out and figure things out while I'm at work. I'll come home at lunchtime and we'll talk about it. You have options, Lauren."

My heart was torn in opposite directions. Part of me didn't want to leave and go back to reality. I wanted to hang out with Mason's dog Roxy and pick oranges off his tree, maybe explore his neighborhood. I wanted to be a real part of his life now, not just that coworker at the office. But I was still married to James, and most of all, I had three kids with him. We had a history together.

"I need to get home," I said weakly, my voice cracking. "My family is kind of freaking out since I just disappeared on them yesterday. And I need to deal with James."

Mason didn't answer, but his face looked disappointed as he moved away and handed me my purse. We rode in silence in his car back to the boat docks where my car was still parked. He killed the engine and looked over at me. Those sad blue eyes of his could have inspired a thousand tragic paintings.

"What are you going to do?" he asked me.

I wanted to hold him my arms, to tell him that I could fix everything. But I was caught in a confused and tangled web of people;—their needs, my desire, my obligations. It was a catch twenty-two I couldn't win.

"I can't even give you an answer right now," I replied softly. "I'm sorry."

Mason leaned over me and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me goodbye. It would have destroyed my plan to return home instantly. Instead, he opened the car door on my side.

"Go then," he said in hoarse voice, trying to hide the pain in his blue eyes. "Your family needs you."

As I climbed out into the cold early morning air and approached my car, he called my name. I looked back, wondering what else he could want from me.

"Please don't come to work today," he said in a voice that sounded almost pleading. "I've got a major deal on the table right now. I just can't deal with this today." I nodded. It only seemed fair.

Mason's red Corvette roared as he drove away quickly. For a moment, sitting behind the steering wheel of my own car, I contemplated not going home. There was still some money in the bank account that James and I shared. I could pull it out and leave, driving south to the cabin we owned in the mountains, and get my head together. I could call Mason up and we could just forget about ourselves for a while. But then I remembered that he had told me not to go back to work. The writing was on the wall already.

By the time I pulled up at my mother's custom built wooden house, the cold fog had lifted and it was a beautiful day.

My childhood home, nestled on several acres of property, had remained standing until my father died of Alzheimer's disease several years ago. After his death, my mother had decided to bulldoze and rebuild the home, in hopes she could bury some of the memories of his suffering. Her excuse was that in order to survive, she needed to start over. Maybe she was right, and I now though. She was lucky that her new beginning had been so simple. There were no other hearts or egos to get in the way.

The wind chimes by the front door were shaking as I came up the steps, even though the wind had stopped blowing. They made a creepy, off key sound that put chills down my spine. I looked over on the wall to see a dark, tall winged figure sitting on top, next to my mother's tall shrubs. The figure was crouched into a squat, watching intensely, his huge wings nearly wrapped around his frame. I blinked, and then it was gone. A large, black raven now was sitting there instead. It crowed twice, staring at me for a long, silent moment. I began to wonder if my eyes were playing tricks on me as I walked into the house.

My mother's house smelled of hot breakfast. I could hear the coffee percolating in the next room. For some reason, it was the most comforting sound in the world to me. Rodger was playing with his cars in the corner of the room.

"Mommy!" he shouted as I entered. He ran over and launched himself into my arms, laying his tiny head on my shoulder. I felt tears welling up, and wiped them quickly away. How could I ever have thought about leaving him for another day?

"Daddy's home!" Rodger exclaimed, grabbing my face in both his chubby hands to command my attention. "He came home this morning! He's not lost!"

I nodded and faked a smile. "I know. Grandma called and told me this morning."

"Where did you go last night? Grandma was worried and you didn't call." He crossed his arms and stared me down, stern as a police interrogator.

"Mommy went to see a friend last night, and she fell asleep there and forgot to call," I explained as I sat him down. I could hear James talking in the next room. I took a deep breath and summoned up all the courage and determination I had before walking through the kitchen door.

James was chatting softly in the kitchen with Sarah and Matthew, who sat next to my mom at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. He stood; looking relieved to see me, and smiled. I made a bee-line for the coffee maker, and eyed him warily. He had lost some weight and his face had a jaundiced tint to it, but he was well-dressed like always, in slacks and a blue Egyptian cotton polo shirt. His slick black hair was combed and parted neatly to the side.

There were so many little things about him and our family that I had cherished years ago. Now we were almost like complete strangers. James approached me cautiously. I crossed my arms, the frustration and anger swelling up. When he hugged me and tried to give me a quick kiss, I could take no more. I pushed him away and slapped him hard across the face. My mother gasped and called out my name, but I ignored her.

"You disappeared for almost six months and you didn't communicate with any of us. Then you just come waltzing in here like nothing happened!" I yelled at him. "I was in a bad car accident and the house caught fire with Rodger and I inside of it! My best friend died! And here you are, laughing and talking like you haven't missed a beat!"

Everyone in the room looked shocked. I had never yelled so much at James like this before, much less slapped him. But man, did it feel good. It was liberating, in fact.

"Matthew, Sarah," my mom said, standing and grabbing her plate. "Take your food and we'll eat in the den. Your mom and dad need to talk alone right now."

Within seconds, the kitchen was clear and it was just me and James.

"Look, Lauren," James began awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. " I feel horrible about how long I was gone for. That's why I'm here right now. I missed you guys. I want to be with you."

"Sure you do, until the next project comes up on your calendar. Then your family's out the door again," I countered. "Did you ever think about the possibility of me not wanting you back when you came home? That I'm not just going to wait around for you anymore?"

James's face grew pale, and I suddenly realized how dark the circles under his eyes were. He looked worried, even a bit sick. "You're leaving me?" he said softly.

"Maybe," I replied, and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling triumphant. It seemed now that I had the upper hand. My female friends would have cheered me on, especially Nancy, if she was still alive. James bit his lip, looking very worried. It had been years since I had seen him so out of sorts.

"I need to show you something," he said as I poured myself a cup of coffee and then hunted in my mom's fridge for milk or creamer. When I didn't respond, he came over and grabbed my arm

"Please, Lauren. This is hard enough as it is."

I followed my husband out of the kitchen and down the long hallway to the guest bedroom. His familiar gray leather suitcase was set up neatly on one of the twin beds.

"Close the door," he ordered as he opened the suitcase.

"Why?" I countered sullenly. "What do you have in there? A gun? Do you have another diamond necklace you're going to give me, to bribe me to stay with you again?"

He looked hurt. Last year we had argued long and hard over a lengthy overseas project he had accepted, and I threated to leave, the first time ever. He had won me over with a huge diamond necklace, but I never wore it. It still lay in the safe, untouched.

"I don't have a gun. There's no bribe. Just close the door. Jesus, Lauren!" James repeated in a weary voice, and I did.

He pulled out a stack of clothing from the suitcase and set it aside. Then he opened pulled out two large, gallon sized Ziploc bags.. There were prescription pills in pharmacy bottles, glass vials of substances with medical labels on them.

"What the hell is all this?" I demanded, staring at him in shock.

"Opiates, prescription pills. Liquid heroin," he replied softly, looking devastated. "Mostly Oxycontin."

"Are you trying to tell me you have a drug problem or something?" I demanded, "Exactly how did you manage to get this through customs at two airports?"

"They don't test what's in prescriptions at the airport if it looks legit. I left my syringes and tourniquets back in Singapore. Do you really think I would be that stupid?", he snapped. James rolled up his sleeves to reveal row after row of needle marks inside his elbows and wrists, pulled up his pants legs to show me he'd been shooting up there as well.

"Oh my God," I gasped, sitting down onto the bed, my legs suddenly becoming weak.

"I wanted to tell you for so long," he said, choking back tears. "I started last summer, in Thailand. I was so stressed out and I couldn't sleep for a whole week. One of the guys I was contracting took me to an opioid den and bought me some heroin. It helped me relax and forget everything. I didn't have to think about the company or my projects or all the stupid deadlines we were trying to meet. After a few times, I was hooked. I was shooting up or snorting something every day- I took anything that would make me high, take the edge off of things. Sometimes I couldn't find any heroin or opiates, so I got convinced a doctor out there to prescribe me OxyContin."

James's face looked even more ashamed as he continued, "When I left for Singapore this last time, I told myself I was going to quit, to get clean for you and the kids. I made it about four days before I had a complete breakdown. I ended up getting so high that I wandered off a few cities away. I woke up lying in an alleyway. Someone had robbed me, and they took my wallet and my passport, my traveler's checks. I couldn't even leave the country until I could get a new passport issued. I ended up staying with a local friend who let me work for him and earn enough money to buy a new passport. That's why I've been gone for so long."

"Why didn't you call me?" I demanded. " I had the American Embassy put out an alert for you. They did a whole investigation, James They tracked down Ming and all of your contractors, and interviewed them, trying to find out if you'd been murdered or kidnapped."

I kicked his suitcase off the bed so hard it went tumbling across the room, everything in it spilling out onto the carpet. "Damn it, you just disappeared and made things so hard on all of us! The kids thought their father might be dead and they were crying for you at night. You left everything on me and just took off on a huge drug binge. What the hell is wrong with you, James?"

James plopped down on the bed and closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. He looked much older than his age. The skin on his face even had a yellowish tint to it.

"I don't know," he replied, his voice shaking again. "I wish I knew. I guess I didn't want you and the kids to see me like this. I wanted to handle it on my own. I wanted to be strong, Lauren."

"But you can't just fix this by yourself, James," I insisted. "You have an addiction. You need to go to rehab. Drug addiction can be deadly. You shouldn't have hidden this from me."

James began to weep, and put his head in my lap, crying hysterically like a child. I had never, in all the years of our marriage, seen him so upset or weakened. My own husband had become a broken man, begging for my help. I kept asking myself over and over if I still loved him. James was constantly distracted in the last five plus years, the high-caliber businessman that would let nothing stop him from finishing his next big project, including his own family. I briefly recalled how we had fallen in love as college kids, how I had once admired his intelligent, cocky nature, his devotion to support his family, and the potential he had. How could they be the same person? We now had a string of loneliness, lies, and deceit between us, but our past together and the love for our family was tangling it all together. My kids were laughing and playing in the next room.

How could they part with the father they had known all their lives? I suddenly wondered, and I knew what I had to.

I spent hour after hour calling rehab centers across the nation, until I found one with an immediate opening. The Nomad Center in Charleston, Virginia promised James could walk out a clean man within six to nine weeks or less, depending on his level of addiction. We would have to sell our rental cabin to cover the costs, maybe our house too. I booked two flights to Virginia for the following morning. James didn't flinch when I gave him copies of the flight reservations, and told him to clear out his schedule. He simply nodded, accepting his fate. I spent the day alone in bed, mentally drained, as he spent his final afternoon before rehab with the kids. I wanted nothing more than to have someone to call, a shoulder to cry on, a set of arms to comfort me, but I couldn't think of a single person left in my life that I could rely on anymore, sadly.
Chapter 24

Loose Ends

The temperature in Charleston was nearly below zero the next day, as it was the middle of winter. James and I exited our rental car and crossed the frozen parking lot to the rehab center. The Nomad Center was set on twenty acres of farm property and was rated as one of the most effective drug rehabilitation centers in the U.S.

"I'll be lucky if I don't freeze to death here," James griped as he grabbed my hand, and I noticed his grip was weak, shaking quite a bit. I wondered if it was the cold, or the fact that he hadn't been high in nearly two days.

"If you don't get treated, you'll die from withdrawal," I replied curtly, and dropped his hand as I reached over to open the heavy front steel door. It was white, heavily disinfected inside, and smelled like a medical facility.

"Are you sure I have to do this?" James asked, giving me a long look, "Can't I just sweat out the withdrawl at home?"

"Yes, you have to do this. You need professional help," I hissed through gritted teeth. "Let's just get this over with."

Friendly staff greeted us in the lobby, and a pretty, young assistant offered us tea, coffee, bottled water, gum. James chose gum, and I took coffee, black and bitter, the perfect match to my mood. A psychologist name Dr. Robuck sat with us and reviewed James's case, asked him a million questions. I learned more about James in those forty-five minutes than I had known all my life, the little but important things he hid from me. His father had been a closet opiate addict when he was growing up, and his mother had at one time been an alcoholic, nearly drinking herself to death when he was a teenager. He'd struggled all his life with trying to make his parents proud, trying to figure out how to get their love and acceptance. His mother was what the Chinese called a Tiger Mom, who expected nothing but perfection from her two children, while his father was largely emotionally absent, obsessed with money and success. When the doctor asked if drugs had led James to have promiscuous or unprotected sex, he paused for a long moment and then shook his head, muttering. "Not that I can recall."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, leaning forward in my chair and glaring at him.

"Only that I was often high, sometimes for days at a time. Until you've done that, you won't understand how weird it can be. I was high and ran across a freeway in Utalan City. I could have gotten myself killed. Another time I got lost in a bad area, and someone stole the clothes right off my back. When I came to, I was naked, lying on the beach," James explained.

"How frightening that must have been for you," the the psychologist exclaimed with a compassionate look at him. Suddenly felt very out of place. It made me wish for the days I was a Nephilim, when I could have manipulated my way out of awkward situations like this. I was relieved when James asked for a cigarette, and a worker escorted him outside to smoke.

"Did you two ever discuss all the stress he was under, working abroad?", the psychologist asked suddenly.

I could feel the man's eyes on me again, evaluating. It was nerve wrecking, and the guilt was eating me up inside. I didn't want to sit there and evaluate all my shortcomings as James's wife, not to mention the guilt I felt over falling for Mason.

"I don't know. James acted like he owned the universe. He never told me he was so stressed out."

I grabbed for my purse and coat.

"Is there any more paperwork I need to sign before I leave for the airport?" I asked in a strained voice.

"You aren't going to stay nearby during his treatment?" the doctor asked, sounding surprised.

"No," I replied. "I have to get back to work tomorrow- somebody has to pay for all of this treatment, you know. Plus, we have three kids back home. We live in Seattle."

"Couples counseling is part of our program after the first two weeks, when the detox effects have lessened" the doctor continued. "How do you plan on participating in that?"

"Maybe you can teleconference me," I snapped at him. "Just have James's old assistant call me to schedule something. It's not like he called me once during those six months he went missing."

I slammed the door behind me as I left his office. I hugged James good-bye, feeling torn in so many directions. Dirty snow crunched under my feet as I approached my rental car. I slipped on a patch of ice suddenly and fell back, both my feet flying out from underneath me. The fall hurt, and I cried out in pain. For a moment I just lay back and closed my eyes against the winter sky. I was sure that when I opened them I would see Nathaniel or another angel gazing down on me. A flock of geese was crossing high overhead in the winter sky, but it was otherwise silent and uneventful. The aching in my body convinced me I was no longer a Nephilim. I limped to my car and headed out of the parking lot to catch my flight home.

I went back to my job at the Orange Group the next morning. Sherrie had just been promoted to an administrative assistant in the design area, so everyone was talking about that. Some of the gossip was bad—there was an Accounts Receivable worker that was just waiting for her to screw up and get fired and some people were happy for her. I was super nervous as I walked into the office, not sure what to expect since my tense departure with Mason. He was inside the office already, emptying his desk. There were two cardboard boxes on top, and he had already taken his sales awards down off the walls.

"Hi," I said softly as I came in and laid my jacket and purse on the table.

"Hey," Mason barely grunted at me, without much more than a quick look. There was a thick tension in the air.

"What's going on?" I asked walking over to his desk "Are you quitting or something?"

"Transferring to the San Francisco branch," he replied stiffly, pulling files out of his desk and dumping them into one of the boxes. "I start next Monday."

"What?" I exclaimed. "Why? Did Janet or Bob find out about.. about us?"

"Of course not. I kept our little mistake a secret, so don't worry. Their Sales Director quit last week. She's been battling cancer. Bob's been trying to get me to transfer for months now," he continued, tossing a handful of pens and other office supplies into the second box. "It's just better this way."

My stomach dropped like the first time Nathaniel had tossed me from the building during our first flight lesson. Only this time, I had no wings to break my fall. Mason was leaving because of me.

"Look, I'm sorry about James," I said, walking over to stand across from Mason. "He's actually in rehab right now. He's addicted to drugs, and that's why he just disappeared for so long. That's why I missed work the last two days. I left you a voicemail. I emailed Janet."

"Sure he is," Mason muttered, shoving a pile of business cards in his pants pocket. His jaw was clenched tight and his face was stiff with anger, in a way I had never seen before.

"Mason," I insisted. "I'm not lying to you!" I marched over and grabbed his arm, feeling desperate, "Look at me!" I demanded. "It's the truth!"

Mason's eyes were a mixture of anger and sadness as they met mine and he pulled his arm away, "Lauren," he said in a tired voice. "I don't really care either way. I can't do this anymore; working here every day next to you, after what happened between us, and act like nothing has changed. Or see you with James at the annual company picnic, or whatever. You shouldn't stay with someone you don't love. It isn't fair to them, or to you."

"What about my kids?" I snapped. "Do you think it's fair to them if they lose out on a father?"

Mason reached out and put both hands on my shoulders. "Children are resilient, and don't think they don't know what's going on. They always do. Do you want to support James's drug habit the rest of your life? How about paying for his rehab again when he relapses? Can you really afford that?"

"Stop it!", I nearly shouted, "It's my life, not yours! You don't know a damn thing about any of this! How could you possibly understand?!"

For a second, he looked furious then stepped back, calming down, and grabbed both of the boxes off his desk, one under each arm.

"I think you're just scared to be alone," he said finally. "We all are, in a sense. We just fight it in different ways."

Tears filled up my eyes. "Please, don't go," I pleased. "I can't work here without you. It won't be the same."

"You can. You're ready to move up to being an Account Executive," he said. "I already talked with Bob and Janet. They're going to transition you in the next month so you'll be up to speed."

Tears flowed down my cheeks, but Mason kept talking, his tone soothing. "You'll make more than enough money to take care of yourself and the kids. How much you sell is up to you, but I think you'll do just fine."

"Will I ever see you again?" I wondered, struggling to hold back my sobs.

Mason couldn't meet my gaze as he replied. "I can't really answer that. I guess it just depends on what life throws our way."

"Thank you," I whispered, still wiping at my eyes. "For helping me. You didn't have to do that."

Mason just nodded, finally meeting my gaze "You've earned it," he said softly.

Out in the hallway, a few people wandered by and stared at us, their gazes questioning.

"Walk me to my car?" Mason said in a low, sad voice and I realized then it really was the last time I might ever see him.

A cold wind had picked up in the parking lot when we approached his Corvette, and I shivered. Mason tossed his boxes in the trunk and pulled me in his arms, in a long hug. Then he kissed me the same way he first had in the car, only days before.

"I can't make it without you," I protested. "I don't even have my wings anymore."

Mason's gaze was tender as he let me go and climbed in the car. "You don't need wings anymore, Lauren. It's time you learned to fly on your own."

He got in his car, started the engine and drove off. Mason had left me with the opportunity of a real career in advertising, and all I could do was cry. I looked out at the city surrounding me, wondering which direction my life would take next.

Coming soon: Novel 2

No Debt Goes Unpaid

Just when Lauren Heinz thought her life was back to normal, she finds out there is a larger debt she owes, and her soul is hanging in the balance. She must now undergo a harrowing journey into hell to settle the price she still owes for Nathaniel saving her life. Can Lauren save her own fate before time runs out?
