Chapter 2

 

 

 

When I entered McManus’ Pub and Grill, the protective spell that always activated whenever someone entered the place tugged at my center, pulling on me. The sensation of giddiness and tickling spread across my skin and the taste of bubblegum assaulted my tongue. It was all super quick and by the time I was inside, pushing past the spell, these sensations had subsided, disappearing.

The lively and crowded atmosphere of Jeff’s pub greeted me, brushing aside my fears, worries, and negativity. Kellie, the waitress, passed me by, holding her food tray above her head. She gave me a wink and waltzed to the saloon doors, pushing them open. Presumably she was bringing orders to the cooks. I went behind the bar and began preparing my station, starting with hauling some ice into the well. When I had all my basics covered, I tied my apron behind my neck and checked for the turnover in the drawer and the tips in the jar put against the windowsill. I was counting the coins and bills when someone else’s strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, fingers closing around my eyes. Panic would have rushed through my veins if Raphael’s signature scent of vanilla, sulfur, and strawberries hadn't flooded my senses, intoxicating my body with his raw power.

“Howdy, sugar. What’s up?” He withdrew his hands from my face and I turned to face him. He sat on a chair, arching over the bar.

I puffed in response, trying hard to banish my sister’s romance with my ex, the incubus. I mumbled something, and then I saw Loki. He was coming over to us, a wide smile dancing on his face; he held a pool cue in his hand.

I turned to him. “Look who’s here! What’s the bad boy doing in our pub?”

Loki’s grin deepened and he perched on the stool next to Raphael, then placed the stick between his legs. “I couldn’t resist. You know, I like the games and equipment you provide your customers with. Besides, the company’s great, too.” He winked at me. I didn’t buy his act. He and I had had a rough start over the course of thwarting Drogo’s plans, so it was highly unlikely he’d give me a compliment like that if he didn’t have an ulterior motive.

“Bullshit,” Raphael chimed in, playful flames flickering in his ocean blue eyes. I loved staring at them, losing myself in their depth and tranquility. “Loki keeps track of me. I think he’s a little jealous,” he said in a lower voice, drawing his head closer to me.

Loki pulled a face and once he ordered an ale, he returned to the pool table where a big group of shifters had started another round of their game. Judging by the cheers and anticipation coming from the pool table, there was a bet. Small wonder—it was Saturday, easily one of our busiest evenings, and the night was just starting. I’d arrived a bit earlier, before my shift at 6 pm.

“Do you think he’s really jealous?” I turned to Raphael, who sipped a margarita cocktail, then resumed chewing the cherry, the little umbrella on a stick placed on the counter next to his highball glass.

The archangel gave me an absent-minded nod and I felt compelled to get to the bottom of his claim. “Of me or… of you?” Loki was a curious character, and I needed to know the motivations behind his actions and behavior.

He swallowed the cherry and said, “Look, Aiya, we, the boys, have been together for many years. We have grown to feel like brothers. It’s natural that he feels protective of me now that I like you.”

“You like me?” I asked innocently and couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. I was behaving like a stupid teenage girl, falling in love with the school’s jock. Or rather, in my case, the council’s pretty boy. Loki would fit the jock type perfectly.

“What do you think? Am I into you?” He carefully set aside his glass and leaned closer to me. The distance between our lips shortened to a breath away and my heart raced wildly, palpitation storming my entire body. Were we going to kiss, finally?

The question had barely crossed my mind when the shifters’ cheering broke the air, ruining the moment. Raphael turned around to see what was happening, and I cursed under my breath. So close! I strained my eyesight to see the culprit behind ruining my first kiss with the archangel, and then I spotted Loki. He stood in the center of the pool table, the other shifters surrounding him, cheering along with him. Left of Loki, perched on the table edge, was a redheaded guy, my magic telling me he was a fox shifter. He was surrounded by a small group of friends, shifters too. Apparently, Loki and the ginger guy were in the midst of a heated game.

“How’s life? Everything fine?” Raphael turned abruptly to me, his voice sterner and graver than a few seconds ago. The light mood of our conversation changed instantly.

“Yup, all fine,” I said quickly and darted a glance at the icy well. My hand reached to straighten the bottles lying there, out of habit.

“You sure? No surprises and no… hmm, unpleasant events?” Raphael’s eyes gleamed with a hint of an unidentified emotion that made me wonder if he accidentally possessed a crystal ball or had read my mind.

“How do you know?” I dropped my defenses, my voice coming across as rude and I backed up, adding a quick, “Sorry, I didn’t want it to sound mean. But how do you know? Did you see something?”

He shook his head. “Alas, no. I’ve always wanted to master mind reading, but it’s Damian’s specialty.”

Damian was one of the other Council of Nine members, an angel. He’d found me in this very same bar in September, last year.

Raphael continued, “I simply know Drogo’s character. It’s unlikely he’ll leave matters as they are now. Meaning, he’s at the bottom.”

I suppressed a chuckle at the archangel’s comment. I told Raphael that about a week ago, as I'd been reading my emails, a message had popped up in the center of my laptop screen saying that there was a system update. I'd clicked “okay” and as I'd patiently waited for the system to update, an explosion had burst out, setting the laptop in flames. I'd jumped and looked around to see if there'd been an intruder or a supernatural preying on me. The flames had swallowed the whole screen pretty quickly, but before they could destroy the whole machine, turning it to a pile of ashes, a message formed by the flames displayed in the center of the laptop. The burning, fiery letters had read:

“It’s not over, bitch. I will hunt you down and kill you.

Have fun.

D.R.”

Raphael made a grimace when I relayed the experience to him. “So typical of him. Poor idiot, he doesn’t want to come to terms with the fact he’ll never rule the world. Neither he nor his army of fallen angels.”

I sensed the knowledge about Nephilim had to be kept secret despite the progress I had made with the Magic Council, therefore Raphael wasn’t still using the keyword “Nephilim.” At least not in a public setting like Jeff’s bar.

“Well, everyone wants to rule the world, isn’t that the real issue?” I chirped and, not waiting for a response, added, “How are the Council of Nine and Durga? Are you having problems with Drogo?”

“No, it’s all quiet, for now at least. We haven’t heard of any alarming events, but I was sure Drogo must have intimidated you separately. After all, you’re the sole reason his grand master plan collapsed.”

In that moment a group of customers flooded the bar, sliding onto the vacant stools scattered around it. They ordered beers and alcoholic cocktails, and I got busy preparing their drinks. After I served them, they went to our small separate room where smoking was permitted, leaving Raphael and me alone. I couldn’t help but notice that for a Saturday night, the space at the bar was unusually empty. Patrons came and went but no one sat at the bar or indulged me in their problems; no one even tried to engage me in a conversation. An idea dawned on me.

“Did you cast a spell?” I asked Raphael and the mischievous smile glowing on his face told me all I needed to know.

I pursed my lips, but before I could scold him, he added, “I wanted to talk to you. The guys in here are fine without your attention. After all, they’re all big boys.”

“If you say so. Like Loki, right?” I directed my sight at the trickster god, who at that moment was sipping his ale, sitting at a small table, and flirting with our waitress, Kellie.

Raphael chuckled. “Yeah, exactly like him.”

“Umm, do you have news from the Magic Council?” I asked him, abruptly changing the subject. Ever since our discreet meeting with the chiefs, including Neil Murdoch, I was dying to learn what decision they had made about my existence in the supernatural community.

“We’re awaiting a response any moment now. It shouldn’t take them much longer. I’m wondering what they’re thinking over. Probably Neil’s pushing for a better paycheck for you.”

I recalled the stiffness of the other guys, their evident mistrust, and doubted him, even though they'd claimed they were thankful for my “heroism against the abomination Drogo Rothstein.” If it hadn't been for Durga’s praise of my abilities, and her obvious influence over Neil, they would have probably long ago thrown me in prison or worse, killed me off. “This reminds me to ask you, what is it with the other three guys at the Magic Council? Unlike Neil, they don’t seem to like me at all.”

“Don’t think about these old fools. They have their heads stuck up their asses. They belong to the magical dynasties and as such are spoiled brats. They’re ultra conservative and believe everything they were brought up with or what they read in their school books. Including the dangers of the Nephilim species.”

“And Neil? Why is he different? Isn’t he a spoiled brat, too? And also a member of the magical dynasties?” I asked tentatively.

“It’s different. Neil’s life story is quite interesting. He’s an outlier, like you.”

I arched my brows. “Really? Care to share details?”

Raphael scrutinized my face carefully. “I’m sure you have assessed his magical prowess?”

I let out a quiet whistle. “Holy magic, that guy’s a powerhouse, literally.”

Raphael smiled wanly. “He’s one of the four alphas—primordial werewolves and shifters. He lived during the time of Atlantis and knows the true story of the Nephilim, not the propaganda the Magic Council and the dynasties have come up with, imposing it on the rest of the supernatural world.”

This didn’t speak well of his character. “If what you’re saying is true, he still didn’t do anything to prevent the Nephilim slaughter,” I objected, a note of bitterness lacing my voice.

“He had no choice but to go along with the majority of supernaturals. Like all of us.”

“Really? Tell that to the hundreds of butchered Nephilim and their families. Oh, and let’s not forget the amount of wealth transferred into questionable nonprofit organizations. Was all of this because of ‘the greater good’?” I was so angry that I was about to dash to the kitchen and pour myself something to drink in silence, but Raphael caught my hand, his tight grip indicating he wouldn’t let me bolt.

“I know how you feel, Aiyana. It must have been horrible living through all the fear, horror, and uncertainty you were subjected to. The times were tough. The whole world was a mess after WWII and the supernatural community was no exception.”

“And that’s why you decided to ruin our kind, too?” I said, a tight notch of sarcasm lacing my voice.

“You don’t understand.” His grip on my arm tightened as I tried to pull away. “The majority of Nephilim were questionable anyway. Very few were trustworthy and didn’t abuse their powers.”

“This still doesn’t justify the genocide the Magic Council waged on our species,” I objected and threw him a dirty look.

“I know, and I’m truly sorry, but we can’t turn back time. We can only change the present and with you being the lead, there’s a solid chance the Magic Council might redeem all Nephilim.”

“All Nephilim?” I asked skeptically. “Wasn’t there only one other good Nephilim left beside me, and he happens to live in a Buddhist monastery in Tibet?”

“We aren’t sure, there might be more—”

Raphael couldn’t finish because in this moment Loki came back, drawing closer to the bar. “What’s up, guys?” he said, greeting us. Seeing my grumpy face, he added, “Trouble in paradise, huh?”

Raphael objected, but I took the opportunity to pull myself from his grip and waltz into the kitchen. There, I made myself a hot cacao drink and consumed it in silence. Kellie was outside so if someone needed me, she would call me, or in the worst case scenario, she’d pour or prepare the drinks. It took me no longer than a few minutes, anyway. In the end, I hauled a bucket of ice from the fridge since there was none in the one placed at the bar.

When I came back through the saloon doors, Raphael was still chatting to Loki.

“Oh, your lady love has come back.” Loki winked at me and sauntered back to the pool table. This guy seriously irritated me, especially now.

“Will he ever stop with the teasing and mocking?” I asked in exasperation.

“Don’t pay attention to him and he’ll stop. Eventually,” Raphael said.

Next, rush hour came and I could barely converse with Raphael; even Loki didn’t drop by us to annoy the hell out of me. A multitude of supernaturals crowded the space at the bar, each ordering something to drink. Some of them ordered food too and Kellie busted her ass going to and from the kitchen and our main room, bringing the dishes.

“I’ll be going now, Aiya. Take a good rest after work,” Raphael said when the number of customers started diminishing around my station. The majority had already slid onto their chairs, some engaging in games of foosball, pool, or cards. Some of our patrons were intently watching the rugby match that aired on the TV screens mounted on the walls.

“I’d like to meet you tomorrow, early in the afternoon. Would you like to accompany me for lunch?” Rephael pouted his lips, his face taking a sad puppy expression, and my anger and tiredness evaporated in a heartbeat. He had irresistible looks of both a cute puppy and a smoking hot model. How was that even possible? Of course, his wings were invisible as well as his halo. He had them activated only during fights or when he was in Eden Hall. Even at the Magic Council’s headquarters his wings weren’t visible.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, a lighter and cheerful tone discernible in my voice.

“I’ll drop by tomorrow, 2 pm. Okay?”

I'd barely nodded in confirmation when a new group of guys in their 20s and 30s entered the pub and headed to the bar. I grabbed the icy bottles stored in the well and got busy preparing their drinks.

“Good night, Aiya. Will come tomorrow,” Raphael said, raising his voice to drown out the noise from the newly arrived clique. He waved goodbye with his hand and I acknowledged him with a slight nod.

The rest of my shift went as usual. The male shifters and supernaturals intently watched the rugby game and then engaged in socializing or in flirtatious attempts at the female portion of our customers.

It was past midnight when the last crowd of supernaturals that cramped the bar left the pub, dispersing into the cold night. I was wiping the counter when a familiar face waved at me. It was Amelia—a young witch from Scotland who recently had come to our town. In her words, she had been living in the United States for several years now, traveling from city to city, first the East Coast then the West Coast. Prior to settling in our country she’d traveled and lived in Australia, New Zealand, Africa, and even Europe. She proudly claimed our small town had the most powerful ley line structures. It was true, the intersection of two ley lines that our small town was built on made our place appealing to supernaturals, drawing them like predators to bleeding prey.

“Hi, Amelia, would you like to order?” I greeted her as I came over to her table. Kellie was nowhere in sight. Probably she had sneaked out going for a quick smoke, thinking the shit was over. Well, it was except for Amelia.

“Aiyana, how lovely tae see ye! Please, sit down, I’d like tae talk tae ye.”

I turned around to check if someone else was present in the hall by mistake or if someone had come in. The room was empty and only distant chatter and laughter came from the kitchen. The cooks and Kellie were having some talk.

“What is it?” I asked tentatively, still standing over her.

“Come, sit down. It won’t tak’ more than a few minutes, don’t worry.” She smiled wanly and tapped on the vacant chair across the table, opposite of her. I didn’t move and she added, “Okay, Miss Carter, I had a dream last night. I was daein' ye a tarot card reading in it. I rarely have such dreams and when I dae, I interpret them as received instructions from above. Dae ye trust me?”

She sounded sincere and I reluctantly perched on the chair she’d pointed out.

“You have my attention. What dream did you have? Am I in danger?” I fired the questions one after the other. I couldn’t help but recall Drogo’s warning with the combusted laptop and the fiery message he’d sent me. The bastard knew how to make an impression.

Amelia was a young witch, but she had her own occult shop downtown. She did divination, astrology, numerology, and tarot card readings. The army of fans she'd made over the years attested to her clients’ satisfaction. I would often see her in the afternoons doing her tarot card readings in the corners of our pub, on some quiet table. From what I’d heard from our customers, she was in her early forties, but she looked no older than her mid twenties. She often changed the color of her hair and liked to pick bright colors like orange, electric green, purple, turquoise, or pink. Even though she posed as a mere witch, I had the hunch she had some fairy blood running in her veins because her mood got reflected in her eyes, changing them. No witch could do that. I even suspected the constant different hair colors were the result of her fairy magic, not cosmetics.

She took a deck of tarot cards out of a leather pouch and her fingers lifted a small clear quartz that covered the top of the deck. I knew from my grandmother, Onawah, that quartz purified the cards or other divining objects of the previous client’s aura and energy. Amelia wanted to do the job properly!

She set the cards in a pile absentmindedly in front of me and I took a closer look at their backs. They had a colorful circle with something resembling an eye in the center and a multitude of layered circles around it. “First, shuffle the cards tae imbue them with yer energy,” she prompted me. I reached for the deck and she added, “While you dae this, think about the question ye need or want most answered.”

I picked up the cards—they felt cool against my skin from the quartz that was pressed against them. A wave of tranquility and serenity engulfed me and I made a mental note to buy one of these stones for me, too. Oftentimes after work at the pub I felt drained. As I clumsily shuffled the cards, I tried to think of a question as Amelia had advised me. A thought immediately boomed in my mind—Will I beat Drogo once and for all? The question had barely crossed my mind when another fired up in its wake—Will I be working for the Magic Council?

I tried to rein in my mind. She'd said a question, not questions. The past weeks had been extraordinary. I'd embarked on a mission I'd never thought I would. I'd met the strangest council ever, including the four archangels, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and Uriel, not to mention Loki and Enki. For the first time ever, supernaturals outside of my family had known what I was and they hadn't intended to kill me. Now, after I'd stole the Scroll of Lies from Drogo, he was up my butt, plotting a new way to trap me into his abominable snare and most probably kill me, as an act of retribution for thwarting his grand master plan for world domination. Unless he intended to hex me and recruit me as his minion, which I doubted. But then, after the conflicting information I'd received about my own father, the above scenario wasn’t outside the range of possibilities, either.

Would I be able to conquer Drogo? Would I be working for the Magic Council?

“That should be enough,” Amelia said. “Now cut the deck.”

I cut it and passed it to her. She stroked the top card with her delicate, snow white fingers, her eyes losing focus. “Very good. Yer energy has suffused the cards.”

With dreamy movements, she offered me the deck and prompted me to choose ten cards. I pulled the top card and she laid it face down on the table, then I drew a second, which she put square of the first. One after another, I picked all the cards and Amelia laid them out on the table. Six of the cards formed a cross and the other four she placed on her right, as what I liked to compare to a wall of the cross.

I wrinkled my nose. “Is this a Celtic Cross spread?” My grandmother did her own simpler tarot readings with Native American tarot cards.

“Aye, darling. Is there an issue with it?” she asked me warily, her face turning to an anxious expression.

“Ah, no. Of course not. Do your thing.” I cracked a smile and Amelia straightened her back, settling in her chair. She placed her fingers on the first card I picked up, which she laid below the square card she’d put on top of it. “This one represents yer present.” She pulled the card out, turning it over. A painting of jeweled goblets and a man with his back turned on them, going forward into the distance, got revealed to me.

“The Eight of Cups. This suggests yer life is stable and ye’re in a seemingly perfect situation, but ye’ll leave all of this behind. Ye’re ready tae explore something new, possibly something that’s much better tae yer soul now.” She turned over the next card, revealing a king seated on a throne. “Yer challenge is… the King of Cups, reversed. This suggests tae be alert as others will manipulate and try tae deceive ye.”

I blinked and realized the card was facing me, not her. Her reading was very fitting for Drogo. No, actually it was an understatement of his wickedness. Unless someone new tried to deceive me. Who could that be? The rigid, super serious faces of the Magic Council’s chiefs swarmed in my mind and I brushed these thoughts away, pressing my lips.

Amelia turned the third card, revealing a seated king with a long wand. “The King of Wands.” She smiled as she spoke to me.

“What does it mean?”

“The third card in the spread represents yer past. Ye’ve had a financial gain and also enjoyed a positive outcome on different fronts.”

This was true. Several months ago, in September, when Damian had come into this very same pub and offered me a special project, I couldn’t have imagined how much money I would earn or that I would win against the dark Nephilim, Drogo Rothstein, and his cult.

Amelia touched the next card in the spread. “This one represents yer immediate future.” She flipped the card. “The Seven of Swords. Hmm.”

I stared at the card. It depicted an array of blades. “Should I worry?” I asked, wondering if Drogo would soon launch his attack on me. My mind was feverishly processing all possible scenarios when Amelia’s melodious voice took me out of my mental anguish.

“This card represents hidden influences in yer life, and the Seven of Swords suggests… sabotage. Someone is going tae mislead ye, and I see it’s from the same force that will try tae prevent ye from reaching yer goal.”

The cards indicated deception, for the second time tonight! A tight knot formed in my chest and I glanced briefly at Amelia. No, she wouldn’t be lying to me, she wasn’t the one who wanted to manipulate me. She was a good soul and what would be the point of scaring me with this tarot reading? Unless she was working for Drogo… The thought barely crossed my mind when I squashed it. This was absurd. I took a deep breath and focused on the cards spread before me.

“Brace yerself, Aiyana, and keep yer eyes open. Difficult times are coming,” the witch advised me and flipped the next card. “This represents yer goal or aspiration.”

The card showed a man standing in a cart, holding a sword. This one was easy. “The Chariot,” I said.

Amelia nodded in confirmation. “Ye hope fur a victory and ye’ll be actively working fur it.” She pulled the next card, turning it over. It revealed a woman sitting on a throne. “Oh, that’s very auspicious.” She glanced at me, approval and admiration gleaming in her eyes. “It’s the High Priestess.”

“What does this card stand for?”

“It’s the advice. Ye have remarkable intuition and ye should listen tae it. Next, external influences come.” She flipped the card and it depicted an old guy dressed in a robe. “The Hermit. Someone close in yer surroundings is wise and independent, and ye ought tae seek their advice. They will help ye achieve yer goal.” She reached for the next card in the spread and flipped it. “Eight of Swords. It represents yer fear. Ye fear betrayal.”

I sucked in a deep breath to calm my racing heart. Only one last card remained unturned and I was staring at it as if my life depended on it. “This is the outcome, right?” I said, pointing at the card. That much I remembered. It had been at least several years since Grandma had last done a tarot reading for me.

Amelia nodded and as she turned over the card, it revealed a Grim Reaper riding a horse. She gasped. “Death. But it doesn’t mean literal death, I’m sure ye know this,” she hurriedly added, trying to soothe me.

“Yes, Onawah has explained it to me. Many times.” I waved my hand dismissively, but still twitched nervously in my chair. Would Drogo launch a new, unexpected attack on me? Would he try to destroy me this time? Or maybe the Magic Council’s chiefs would try making my life hell and punishing me?

The witch glanced at me, anxiety and curiosity written over her features. “Sudden, dramatic change will bring an end tae yer seemingly perfect state of affairs. Destruction and mayhem are in the cards.” She pointed to the Grim Reaper card. “But the outcome of this change will be shaped by yer challenge; also by the people who’ll betray ye and by the fear that rules yer heart.” She tapped on the King of Cups reversed and the Eight of Swords.

I pressed my lips. This didn’t tell me much. Rather, it had confused me even more.

“Any other piece of advice?” I asked, standing up. I had to count the turnover and clean the main hall room or Kellie would bust my ass for being a slacker.

“Trust the universe, love. It has yer best interests at heart, and the divine powers will assist ye along yer journey.” She gave me a radiant smile and this time it was a genuine one. I couldn’t help but smile back. Yet my heart shrank, cold shivers nestling in the pit of my stomach. Deception and betrayal, and sudden death, were in store for me.

Thank you, Drogo!