Page 4 of The Nephilim's Finesse
Nate looked down, his lips pressing together. “Sorry to keep you, but yes, I have one, in fact, two.”
Puriel nodded at him, indicating to bring it on.
“First, I want to settle on how we proceed with the children. As I said yesterday at the voting, I'd like to give them a home.”
“Do as you wish. We ask the younglings, and they can decide where they want to live. That's fine with me,” Puriel stated.
“I think this is an excellent improvement for all of us.” I smiled briefly at Nate.
“And what about the new children that we used to collect? I don’t want to take them away if it's not necessary.”
Puriel yawned. “Honestly, proceed how you like with them. In the end, they have to be trained by Nephilim to become warriors. It doesn't matter to me where or with whom they live.”
“As long as our society remains hidden,” I added.
Nate hit his hands on his knees. “Brilliant. Then I’ll take Yael home after this meeting.”
Yael, a three-year-old boy, was our newest addition to the brotherhood. Nate was present during his collection and learned that Yael was sired by the same angel as he was, making Yael his half-brother. During Asasel’s reign, it wasn't possible to take the children home. They lived at the brotherhood, taken care of by their mentors and Kalaziel, the Nephilim, who was responsible for the upbringing of the kids. Over the years, we had fewer and fewer Nephilim, and the children were lonely at times. Nate argued with Asasel that they needed parents, not only siblings, but our former leader thought it'd make them weak. I was glad that things would change now.
“All right, the second topic?” Puriel yawned again. It had to be a long day for her at the Met.
“How do we proceed with Victorija?” asked Nate.
Puriel sighed. “I tried everything in the book: simply asking open questions, isolation, rapport building, accusation, evidence ploy, deception, good copper bad copper”—Puriel pointed from me to her—“and torture like binding in contorted stress positions, hooding, or subjection to deafening noise.”
She searched Nate's eyes, which were wide in shock. “She seems not to be a narcissist, either, bragging about her accomplishments. Unfortunately, sleep disruption, waterboarding, deprivation of food, drink, and medical care for wounds doesn't make sense since she is already dead and doesn't need those. With confinement in small coffin-like boxes, we do her a favour and with mind-altering drugs, too.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Nate murmured. His face colour was significantly whiter than usual. Puriel just raised one eyebrow, threw her braid behind her shoulder, and continued.
“We won’t go for sexual humiliation, rape, sexual assault as we don’t do that, and second, there were others who tried that in the past and didn’t succeed. Same for beating, tickle torture, walling, subjection to extreme heat or extreme cold, and so on.”
Nate was white by now. “Humanity is awful. We’re all monsters,” he whispered.
“You forget that this vampire tried to kidnap your mate and succeeded in the abduction of teenage witches who were raped and killed. She attacked the brotherhood, willingly killing witches, warlocks, fae and Nephilim, as well as her own subjects. And you want to have mercy on her?” Puriel was outraged.
Nate held his hand in a peace-signalling gesture. “I know, I know. But there has to be another way to make her talk. We just have to find out which one it is.”
“I’m trying,” I said.
Puriel raised an eyebrow. “Good luck with that. She’s had centuries to develop her defensive strategies.”
I tilted my head. “Yet, at certain trigger words, she zooms out and seems lost in memories.”
Puriel nodded at me. “Typical for PTSD.”
“I’ll find a way to make her talk,” I assured. Looking at Nate, I had an idea of how to get into Victorija’s head.
It was a misty Wednesday when I entered Southwark Cathedral, a stone's throw away from The Shard. I despised churches and what they stood for, corrupt, old white men who'd do everything to gain power and money. However, it was the place where I remembered Luthriel best, as it was her favourite spot. I took my seat in the nave with its high ceilings and pointed sandstone arches. The burning of candles and incense created a pleasant aroma. As I waited for Evensong to begin, I beheld the intricate stone carvings all around me. Countless times, I had sat here and listened to Luthriel singing, her long, blonde hair forming a halo around her. She loved churches and the solitude and belonging it gave her. As the service began, the voices reverberated through the building, sending shivers down my spine. Today wasn't a good day. Tears welled in my eyes, and my heart clenched together as I listened to the choir singing, thinking about Luthriel and how I'd never hear the voice of my mate again. My heart ached for her lost beauty and grace; it felt like I had lost a part of myself with her passing a decade ago. Yet, the familiar pain was somehow comforting. I had good days when I could sit here smiling, rejoicing over the beautiful service, knowing how she'd have loved it.
Today, I missed Luthriel terribly. Having Victorija in custody and dealing with her every day tore open the old wound again. If not for that vicious monster, Luthriel would still live. I'd hear her bell-bright laughter, see her blue eyes smiling in delight, and feel her body pressed to mine.
Victorija took this all away from me. In a blink of an eye, everything changed. She took away the thing in my life I loved so much and left me alone in this world. New guilt washed over me, over my failure to protect Luthriel. Pressing my eyes together, I remembered the advice I got in therapy and later told my clients. Breathe through it. It wasn't your fault. Things happen. Forgive yourself. My breathing began to slow as I repeated the mantra in my head. It wasn't my fault, I told myself. Victorija had taken Luthriel away from me, and no amount of wishing or hoping could bring her back. I wasn't to blame for her death: she had chosen that path for herself, to fight against the vampires, knowing the possible consequences.
I opened my eyes and looked up at the ancient stone carvings. They seemed to be telling me something, reminding me that life is too short and precious to be wasted on guilt and regret. What would Luthriel have wanted? She wouldn’t want me to waste energy on self-hatred or despair. Instead, she'd want me to find a way to keep living, to find joy in the small things, and accept that pain was a part of life.
I sighed as the rational part of my brain was overruled by my heart, which said it was Victorija’s fault. The sessions hadn’t helped: I still hated this woman with all my heart. I couldn't forgive her for what she had done; I wanted revenge; I wanted her to suffer like I had suffered. I shook my head. No, I couldn't walk down this path again. I knew I should forgive her and move on with my life. There were times when I thought that I had made steps in the right direction. However, seeing her chained in front of me was so satisfying and not enough. I wanted to see her crying, screaming, begging me to forgive her for all her sins. Yet, she did none of that. She gave me nothing at all, and it drove me crazy. I wanted to scream at her, to choke her, and simultaneously kiss and drive my cock into her, but I'd never do that. She was a prisoner, and we had a code. I had a code. People didn’t understand how much pain and anger it took to become this calm and calculating. There was a line that I didn't want to cross for fear that if I did, I'd become as much of a monster as her.
Not that it would do any good if we would torture her. Many had tried and never succeeded. Reading those records, I was so disgusted by what the warlocks, the Nephilim, and the witches had done to her that I could understand why she loathed us so much. That was the only thing we had in common: we hated each other deeply. I wanted to question her, get the needed answers, and then dispose of her. I didn’t care if she would die or just vanish. I just wanted this part of my life to be over so that I could finish this gruesome topic for good.