Page 5 of The Nephilim's Finesse
The choral music brought no peace to me, so I left the church and stepped into the drizzle outside. I wanted a beer. I exhaled and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths. No, not now, not ever again. I was on the wagon. This red-haired vixen wouldn't push me there again. As a Nephilim, we had a very fast metabolism, and I drank a lot to forget my pain, guilt, and sorrow. Luckily, I had friends who pulled me out of it and put me in rehab. I’d never forget Azariel’s look when she picked me up from a pub and scolded me for throwing my life away. But it wasn't her raised voice but the fear in her eyes. The fiercest fighter of all the Nephilim feared who I'd become. That night nine years ago, I agreed to rehab, pushed through, and never touched alcohol again. I guessed it was time to visit my old support group again and talk things through. Shaking my head, I was so disappointed in myself. I thought I'd handle this situation better. But I wouldn’t give up. There had to be a way to make this monster talk and then finish this part of my life for good.
I was sitting in our former meeting room, now our shared office, which we had redecorated in the last few days. The office had bright windows on one side, allowing natural light to flood the space, creating a warm and welcoming ambience. The opposite wall was painted in a calming light grey shade, offering a subtle contrast to the brightness of the windows. The heart of the office featured three well-organised desks, each catering to one of the three Nephilim leaders who worked in the space. The desks were made of white wood and were linked together, creating a cohesive and collaborative workspace. On each desk, neat stacks of documents and high-tech devices were carefully arranged, a testament to the productivity that thrived within these walls.
I skimmed through the documents that Asasel, our former leader, had directed me to review to gain an understanding of Nephilim daily operations when a knock came from the door.
“Yes?”
The door opened, and Alissia stuck her head through the door. “Nate said you wanted to talk to me?”
I nodded, stood up from my desk, and walked over the black and white carpet to our meeting space, which showed rounded Y’s that created a harmonious pattern throughout the room. In addition to the desks, there was also a sitting area with five chairs and a coffee table. The chairs were upholstered in a soft grey fabric, providing a comfortable spot for our group to gather and discuss ideas. Over the arrangement hung a huge painting from Azariel, one of the older ones where she used to paint peaceful landscapes before she started creating the darker ones. This painting showed a typical English landscape with green hills and a small pond with trees in the front. Alissia and I took our seats.
“How are you?”
“Fine so far.” She stroked her belly absently. Alissia was in her third month of pregnancy, and her body showed more curves than when I met her for the first time. She was radiating with beauty, her red witch and black Nephilim aura swirling around her, just like Nate’s. It had been a shock to all of us that those two could exchange auras—something nobody thought was possible. Yet, their love hadn't only resulted in mixing auras and powers but also in getting Alissia pregnant.
“How is it, being a leader of the Nephilim?”
Tilting my head, I thought about my answer. I reduced my working hours from my official day job to a part-time one. With leading the Nephilim, interrogating Victorija, and attending my usual training sessions with Azariel, it wasn’t possible for me to manage a full-time job as a substance abuse social worker as well.
“I think we all try to adapt to it. Becoming acquainted with everything will take some time. Asasel did a great job by leading us.”
Until he didn’t. His judgement of how the attack would unfold was wrong, and only the insubordination of Nate, Puriel, and me to alter his plan saved many lives. When he wanted to punch Victorija, I had to stop him. Not only was it not ethical to hurt a captive, but it'd be solely done out of hatred and anger at his failures, for which he blamed the vampire leader. He’d gotten weak in the last few months, and his world had been turned upside down since Alissia entered Nate's life. A witch and a Nephilim being together was unheard of, and Asasel, who’d been our leader for more than five decades, wasn't able to adjust to the new circumstances.
When we were outside the house where we kept Victorija, and Asasel had declared treason for holding him back from hurting the vampire leader, Puriel just shook her head and told him that sometimes the subordinates had to tell their leaders when they were wrong. What would we be if we didn't scrutinise his orders? We wouldn’t be better off than lemmings, and he'd be just another tyrant if he didn’t let us have our say in things. This got him thinking, and that afternoon, he declared that he would step back from his position.
Nate entered, placed a cuppa in front of Alissia, and seated himself beside her.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” Alissia tilted her head, blew on her tea, and took a careful sip.
I sighed. “I don’t have any clue about Victorija. I wanted to ask you to invade her dreams, see what can make her open up so she would start to talk.”
Alissia's unique magical ability as a witch was to enter people’s dreams. This was how she made her connection with Nate way before they finally met in person six months ago.
When she heard my request, Alissia’s eyes widened; she clung to her cup, and several emotions ran over her face. Surprise, scepticism, fear. In the end, she frowned at me.
“Do I really have to do this? It’s so wrong on so many levels.”
I nodded. “I tried everything I know the last few weeks to get to people, gain their trust, and open up. She gives me nothing, and I know too little about her.”
Nate leant forward. “Babe, it’s better than torturing her. In the best case, she’ll never find out.” He smiled reassuringly at Alissia.
She thought about it for a minute, then sighed. “All right. I don’t like it, but I see your points. Do I have to just observe, or do I have to manipulate her dreams?”
The most straightforward approach would be if Alissia could make her trust me somehow, if she could bait out how I could get to her. Furthermore, she could use her talent to get the information we needed from Victorija without her even knowing it. We were at war with the vampires, their leader in our custody. Yet, we had honour. I knew that Victorija wouldn’t care about that. If I were at her mercy, I'd be dead or tortured. However, being held captive was a form of torture, too. We could end this when we knew what she was planning, her allies, and the big picture. Then, we could decide how to proceed. Maybe this would get her out way faster than making her talk.
“I suggest we start with observation. Hopefully, you’ll find something we can use. If not…”
Alissia shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
“We are at war with the vampires. She’s responsible for the rape and deaths of all those innocent witches, your friends,” Nate urged.
“I know,” said Alissia quietly. “I know she’s a monster, but I don’t want to be like her and fear what I’ll find in her dreams. Maybe she's butchering little children while laughing the whole time. I don’t want to see such things.”
“She was a human once. Hopefully, there is still something human left in her.”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”
I nodded and rose, walking to my desk and taking the plastic bag out of my drawer. “Here are her clothes from the battle.” Victorija had only her clothes on her, no belongings like a phone or a necklace, nothing. I handed them to Alissia. She needed something personal to get the connection to the dreamer if she wanted to be part of the dream.