Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist
Cleveland, Ohio
6:00 p.m., Dec. 24
“Why did you tell Lester to meet you here?” Dana asked, and Finn slid her a look. She was too keyed up, too anxious, scanning the front of the church as they waited for Lester to join them. “I thought you didn’t like this place.”
“I knew it would make him feel safe.”
“Yeah, well that’s one of us.” She glanced up, peering toward the rafters as she shoved her fists into her pockets. “I’ve always hated the angels in this church.” Her harsh black coat matched her darkening mood, but there was nothing for it. They’d been awakened far too quickly by Lester’s text, telling them he was ready to meet for what he termed “the first delivery.” They’d had time only to shower—a long shower, admittedly, tangled in each other’s arms—and then come to the church. There’d been no time to talk about anything but the barest of logistics.
Dana sighed. “I mean, I’ve been in here hundreds of times, and I know the story. They’re the angels of St. John’s vision of the Revelations. You know that, right? Death, destruction, carnage, oblivion. Not a happy group.”
He glanced up as well. “They were here to usher in the end of the world. That wasn’t a happy job.”
“Still, they’re angels. It wasn’t like their heads’ll be on the chopping block.”
Finn didn’t comment. Instead he allowed his eyes to drift to the myriad pinpoint white Christmas lights fusing into a shimmering canopy over the broad open space in front of the altar, which was filled with Christmas trees and white poinsettias. The shrine to the Bethlehem scene was set off in the distance, also surrounded by poinsettias and tiny white lights, giving the whole display a fairy-tale appearance. The church was gleaming with brilliance, the darkened stained glass windows appearing to be the only shadow in the building. He glanced over to the pictures of Jesus, surrounded on all sides by his apostles and yet more angels.
The church, in fact, was filled with angels. They watched over the nave and sacristy, were carved into the wooden screen and pieced together in stained glass that was currently dull as lead, but in the middle of the day would enflame the church with brilliant fiery color. Where there weren’t angels, there were admonitions detailed in beautiful vignettes and symbols, all just out of view of the casual observer. Tucked into the eaves were pictures dire enough to make an angel frown too, images pulled from the pages of Revelations, meant to press a flock into service in whatever way possible. Fear apparently was a popular choice.
“The mortal quest for understanding its origins created a great deal of art,” he murmured.
“And a great deal of death.”
They stopped, as Lester entered the building, walking up the long corridor with Father Franks. Finn could feel Morrow’s energy, excitement. The man had something for him, without question. Good.
But…not everything, he sensed. No more than the short list, as Lester had promised. He reached out and touched Lester’s thoughts, skimming them lightly, which was all he could manage with whatever ward Lester still carried on him. A hundred names alone. That wasn’t going to be enough.
Lester walked up to Finn and handed over the envelope with a flourish. He was a strong, proud, and driven man, filled with passion for his purpose. And he was jerking Finn around.
“The rest?” Finn asked, his voice hard.
“There remain others to convince,” Lester said, his smile placating. “I need one…maybe two hours. I didn’t want you to wait any longer while we got the others onboard. It is, after all, Christmas Eve.”
Finn scowled, but another flick through Lester’s thoughts revealed his truth, his heart. “Where are the rest of the people on the list?”
“Safer than they ever have been,” Lester beamed. As he did, Finn came up against a new block in his thoughts as unexpected as it was strong. The block of a zealot, he realized—something against which even an angel had no sway.
What was the man hiding?
“We should meet at Exeter,” Lester said, unaware of Finn’s attempt to rifle through his thoughts. “It’s safer, and I’ll be finished with my last call at eight o’clock. I can see you there at eight fifteen.”
Finn nodded, though the idea of waiting any longer ground against his nerves. Lester, however, was looking at Dana, and his eyes traveled between the two of them, noting Dana’s clothing, her stance, and perhaps even the energy that wound within her.
“You’ve told her,” he said to Finn. “About who she is. What she is.”
“Some,” he said. “But she needs to hear the rest from you. All of it.”
“Hello, I’m standing right here,” Dana said testily, her scowl for both of them. “But Finn’s right. It’s time. I need to know.”
“It is time,” Lester agreed, sighing. “It’s well past time, perhaps.”
He lifted his gaze to stare at the wall above Dana, where a saint’s image watched them with dubious concern. And he began in a ponderous, preacher-like tone.
“Before God created man, He created angels,” he said. “The angels were made in the image of God, true stars of heaven. Some of this order believed themselves to be equal to Him, above Him even, and these were cast out of heaven.”
Dana glanced at Finn. “Um, I’m aware of grade school catechism—”
Lester held up a hand. “But some who were cast out had sinned in no way, not at first. These were the Fallen, the Nephilim, whose role was to watch over humanity. They were better, brighter, stronger…the heroes of the ancient world. And though many sinned and found themselves among the demon horde, some did not. Some of those angels fell in love with the daughters of Men and begat children. In turn, some of those children were like their forebears—and they walked the earth like gods. They were called the Dawn Children.”
Dana tensed, but Lester continued on. “Much of the change wrought by the Nephilim was good. They directed mortals to create some of the ancient wonders of the world—the Egyptian pyramids. The temples of the Mayans. The gardens of Babylon. They imparted their wisdom and their skills—which they retained from their divine state. Some Nephilim, in truth, were considered gods themselves—Zeus, Osiris, Quetzalcoatl—and their feminine equivalents. Some of their children became the rulers of men. Taller, stronger, possessing great powers. The stories of Hercules and Achilles came from these legendary men and women. The rulers of Egypt and the Mayans. The warriors of the Celts.”
Despite herself, Dana was clearly intrigued. “Those were all earth-bound angels?”
“It can’t be proven, of course. What in life can be proven when it is a question of faith as much as fact? But what is known is that God unleashed a terrible flood upon the earth at some point in the birth of history. And according to some texts, that flood was intended to wash away this apparent scourge of Nephilim and their young.”
“So God wasn’t completely a fan, I take it.”
“A fair assumption.”
“And therefore Noah wasn’t a Dawn Child.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Lester’s smile was absent, a teacher lost in the magic of his story. “The loss of so many great minds was devastating to early man, but according to further texts, the Nephilim were not fully destroyed in the flood. No, it took the coming of the Jews to Canaan to wipe the immortals out entirely.”
“Another hit from God,” Dana murmured. “Not a good track record.”
“And yet…and yet…” Lester looked over at her. “The Dawn Children were not completely destroyed. They flourished in every culture. Sparta, Greece, Egypt, Rome, across Europe and in the highlands of Scotland. The mountains of South America. These children did not die. They were the heroes of their time, the scholars, brilliant souls caught in human bodies which, more often than not, were taller, stronger, and healed faster than those of their peers.”
“And you know this how?”
“A group of believers researching ancient biblical texts and other creationism stories banded together in the twelve hundreds, initially as part of the Knights Templar.” Lester was watching her now, and her expression made him smile. “Yes, those knights. In working through the genealogy, certain patterns emerged. Each generation gave birth to only one child. The children were gifted—whether in beauty, intelligence, strength, or a special skill. And in nearly every generation, the children of this line had made their mark through service to their fellow man.”
“Well, forgive me for mentioning this, but the Knights Templar also didn’t turn out all that well, as I recall.”
“Yes,” Lester said. “When they banded together for one of their greatest acts, to protect the pilgrims to the Holy Land, synergies began to happen. They pooled their wealth, and they accrued great power. They built churches that were in their own way as clear a marker upon the earth as the temples and pyramids of the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Mayans. They did not rule man, but they grew in prominence and stature quickly. Too quickly, as it turned out. When their order was betrayed and destroyed, it became clear that special souls like the Dawn Children could be as much a target of human jealousy as of a possible curse from God. At that time, it was decided that they should be found, nurtured, and protected as well as they could be. Surely, God would be merciful, the thinking went. Surely, these humans who had the blood of angels running through their veins would not face the wrath of the Creator, so many generations after the sins of his children. Still others felt that God was not decrying the existence of the Nephilim and their offspring at all. That the devastations brought upon this special race were the result of human failings alone, not divine anger. But either way, they had to be protected.”
“So that’s what you’re part of, this group of people who are dedicated to protecting Dawn Children?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s what I am?”
His smile was brilliant. “Yes. You are one of the Children we are dedicated to protecting. Third in line of purest blood, in fact.”
“Purest…” Finn winced as the full impact of Lester’s statement hit Dana. “Wait. You’re breeding us?”
“Nothing so crass as what you think,” Lester said. “There are fifteen hundred families that have been identified, spread out over the whole world. There used to be hundreds of thousands before the Great Flood, and then tens of thousands before the Dark Ages settled across Europe and before European invaders wiped out entire civilizations with their diseases.”
“Fifteen hundred families left,” Dana said. “I get how you might think that God isn’t on your side.”
“Your side too,” Lester said quietly. “The same hand that wrote about the defilement of the human race through the intervention of the Nephilim also wrote vividly—luridly—about the end times for humanity. Much of humanity will be destroyed, its warriors all gone, unable to stand against the tide of retribution that will be loosed upon them.”
“Warriors,” Dana said.
Lester didn’t bother to nod. “The identified families understood the importance of keeping the line as strong as possible. Marriages were arranged, children were fostered if they were found in dangerous environments. We have never attracted notice for our work.” He shifted his glance toward Finn. “Until recently.”
“Uh-huh. Recently as in today, or recently as in two months ago?”
“Do you not understand the importance of this, Dana? You’re one of the Dawn Children. You have been blessed by God.”
“Well, great,” she said. “So now I know that I’m on your list. And presumably, so does someone else, since I’ve been jumped twice in the last day. Where does that leave us?”
Lester snapped his gaze back to her from the stained glass window he’d been studying. “Only that we need to keep you protected. Finn can only stay a short while longer. Then we have to make your care our first priority. As it has always been.” His voice grew harder. “Since the moment you were born and given to Walter and Claire to be raised.
Dana blinked at him. “What do you mean, ‘given to,’” she asked slowly.
Lester’s expression shifted, becoming both calculating and cloying at once, Finn thought. Dana didn’t react to it. Perhaps in some corner of her mind, she knew. Perhaps she’d always known. “Your biological parents were not a safe environment for you.” Lester said.
“According to who?”
“Not all Dawn Children were moved for the good of humanity. Some turned to darker paths, and those were the ones who struck fear into the hearts of mankind. They were the ones who were hunted and shunned. They remain the ones against whom we maintain constant vigilance. They were the ones that called down rage upon all of the Children, and for good reason. They started wars and ended lives. They ruled without care or consideration. They manipulated humans in any way they could. But they carried the line of angels, and so they had to be watched. Monitored. Even protected, no matter that they were not redeemable.”
“My birth parents weren’t redeemable, then? Or did you simply not want to go to the trouble?” Dana’s words were cold, almost automatic, and Finn fought the urge to reach for her. This was her truth, and she would face it her own way, he knew. But the moment she reached for him…
“Your parents were already committed to the side of darkness,” Lester said quietly. “We knew it was only a matter of time before you would be as well. And with someone so strong, with such a bloodline as yours, we couldn’t allow that to happen. Not to you, and not to humanity.”
“Where are they now?” Dana asked, and Lester sighed, hunching his shoulders. “Are they dead?” she snapped, a hint of hysteria in her voice. “Did you kill them?”
“No!” Lester said, appearing truly shocked at the question. “They aren’t dead. They abandoned their city, however, and are off the grid. We don’t know where they are.”
“Then how do you know if they’re alive?” Dana asked, and Lester smiled.
“Your parents aren’t the easiest people to kill,” Lester said. “They were alive when they left you behind. And you were blessed with adoptive parents who loved you, cared for you…”
“One of them, anyway.”
“And sacrificed their lives for you that you might live in safety,” Lester retorted, his tone cutting. “Your birth parents never once looked for you, Dana. We expected them to, planned for it. We assigned additional security and gave your adoptive parents enough money to live in luxury, without any need or want. But it wasn’t easy. It could never have been a normal life for them, the life they’d dreamed of when they were planning their wedding, for all that they didn’t know the full story.” He shrugged. “Your pain is understandable, but imagine learning that your life must irrevocably change—that you have no choice or hope for it to improve, and that you might one day be betrayed, all because of a child who desperately needed protection. They gave you that protection. Willingly.”
Lester smiled, his eyes feverish, and Finn couldn’t help suspecting that he might have had a hand in that “willingness.”
“Think on that, on all that has been done to keep you safe,” Lester said, his voice crisp, resolute. “I must go to make my final calls, and get the approvals I need,” he said loftily. “Be ready at eight fifteen. I’ll come for you.”