Phoenix Contract: Part Three (Fallen Angel Watchers) (8 page)

A vast wave of relief passed through the priest, and an odd sense of elation filled him. Magnus had learned the most important lesson the priest had ever tried to teach someone: compassion. The accomplishment may have been the greatest achievement of his lifetime.

“Magnus, you’re perfectly capable of making new friends. There are six billion people in this world, and some of them are even tolerant enough to befriend a cranky old Celt.”

The cranky old Celt grunted, a scathingly skeptical sound.

Matthew grinned, and ducked his head in order to conceal the smile behind his hand.

“Father Matthew?” Aiden called as she entered his study.

A muffled reply signaled his location, so Aiden set down her bag and followed the sound to the adjacent room which was filled from ceiling to floor with bookcases packed with volumes and tomes of every conceivable color and size. She found the priest crouched, returning a leather-bound book to the bottom row.

She stifled the impulse to scold him for exerting himself. Father Matthew’s health had taken a turn for the better, but he was still fragile and easily exhausted. The doctor had advised bed rest, however, the stubborn priest had refused to hear of it. “If I’m going to die, then it’ll be on my feet living life. I refuse to waste away in bed like some sort of invalid,” he’d replied, and that had been his final word on the subject.

Matthew greeted Aiden with a smile. He looked healthier and in better spirits than he’d been even just before the heart attack. “Well, well, well, look what the cat’s dragged in. How’ve you been, stranger? Tests done yet?”

“They’re over. Finally,” she said. “I’ve got two whole weeks off. Carpe diem.”

“Ah, well then good. Try not to let it go to your head,” Matthew replied with a tone of mock scolding.

They returned to the study where Aiden flopped into a chair, and Matthew took a seat at the table across from her. “I was thinking I might go somewhere during vacation,” Aiden mused. “Maybe down to Florida to see Kari.”

Kari, her friend from high school, had gone to a different college, but they had kept in touch after graduation. Aiden had been planning a trip south for months, but then Matthew had fallen ill which made her reluctant to leave.

“Don’t cancel your plans on my account,” Matthew said, accurately interpreting her expression. But the priest’s assertion lacked conviction. He seemed pensive and distracted.

“What’s up? Aiden asked. “I
don’t
like that look.”

“What look?” He widened his eyes and assumed his best rendition of an angelic innocence.

“
That
look. The one that says that you have something to tell me, but you don’t want to.” She arched her eyebrows and stared at him.

“Ah, that look. Very astute of you,” he retorted with a sage nod. “I really must remember to stop wearing my thoughts on my face.”

Silence ensued.

She cleared her throat. “Well?”

“Honestly, I’m trying to figure out how to put this.”

“This is bad, isn’t it?” Aiden’s volume rose slightly in alarm. “You’re up to something. I can tell.”

Father Matthew held out for another beat and then conceded with a sigh. “All right, you have me.”

“Ah-ha!”

“It’s not quite so insidious as you make it sound.” He chuckled, but his eyes belied the laugh. When he paused and sobered, Aiden took her cue from the priest and adopted a serious demeanor. It must be a big deal. Matthew wasn’t normally one to beat around the bush.

“You know the story of Nephilim origins,” Matthew said.

Aiden nodded, eyebrows rising. “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?” She’d long ago committed the lesson to memory. She knew it well enough to teach it. Her youth and apprentice rank were the only reason she wasn’t permitted to do so.

“It has to do with everything, my dear girl,” he replied with an enigmatic smile. “Indulge an old man, and all shall become clear.”

As the smarmy storyteller, Matthew loved theatrics and refused to rush a tale. He always took his time and let tension build to a resounding climax. He also preferred the kinder, gentler version of the Nephilim story over the more parochial one Desdemona taught. Both were equally canonical even though they contradicted each other on several major points. There were no survivors to say how it had been. And the dead, they weren’t talking.

“Okay, but only if you stick to the abbreviated account.” Aiden’s lips quirked. “I don’t need the unabridged version.”

The priest always began with a quote from Genesis 6: 1-4. Feeling like she was indulging a child, Aiden recited the passage aloud:

“When human beings began to increase in number on the earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of humans were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose.

“Then the Lord said, ‘My Spirit will not contend with humans forever, for they are mortal; their days will be a hundred and twenty years.’

“The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of humans and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.”

Matthew nodded his approval and took over the tale telling. “The Grigori, also called the Watchers, were sent to earth to be teachers to mankind. The Watchers did as the Lord commanded, but as time passed, things changed amongst the angelic orders. The dissension and unrest of Lucifer and his followers intensified, eventually leading to the war in Heaven and the uprising of a third of the angelic host.

“Seeking to quell the unrest, God commanded that the angels secret themselves from men and have no further contact, but the Grigori living on earth had come to love and cherish humans. So with heavy hearts, two hundred of the Grigori left their positions in Heaven and came to earth. They greatly feared the retribution of the Almighty for their disobedience, and they made a pact and swore an oath to one another, binding one to the other to all. Thus, they descended to earth and took wives, the daughters of men, who bore them offspring.

“There were several breeds of children born to the Grigori: the Nephilim, the Anakim, the Rephaim, and the Rapha. Our Nephilim ancestors were greatly revered by mortal men. They were called hero and known as men of renown.

“Some of these Giants wrought great and terrible destruction. Their malicious actions brought infamy and ruin to all. It was they whose sin brought down God’s wrath upon us all. Wars and natural disasters ensued, and in the end, the Grigori were forced to shed their physical bodies and were banished from the earth. The Giants were destroyed and their spirits cursed.

“Many, many of our brethren Nephilim were killed during those days of sorrow, and those who survived were hunted. Finally, in order to survive, our people went into hiding. The rest of humanity was allowed to believe that we’d been destroyed altogether.

“The surviving Nephilim organized into the great Watcher Houses: Azazel, Arakiba, Ramiel, Ezeqeel, Baraqijal, Armaros, Batarel, Ananel, Turiel, and Araziel. Then there were also Houses Asael and Shemyaza, which were lost or were assimilated into the other houses.

“Those of us who’ve survived have remained hidden, and history remembers us only in a few obscure passages of ancient scrolls. Of course, this isn’t where the history ends, nor is it a comprehensive account. Much has been lost, and much more is tedious and time-consuming, better left to historians and scholars.”

“Okay, so are we done with stories for children yet?” Aiden asked, her smile faint. While she was both amused and confused, she still had not discerned the point of the conversation.

“Not quite yet. There’s one more legend I’d like to discuss. You’re familiar with the Phoenix legend?”

“You know I am,” Aiden scoffed, eyebrows rising slightly.

Matthew had made certain that her education was complete, and the Phoenix was a common story that still got told and retold. The Phoenix was a legend, a great man to some and awful terror to others, who’d once been the rightful leader of the Nephilim people.

“What does this have to do with children’s stories? The Phoenix legend isn’t part of the standard academic curriculum,” she said. What next? Were they going to discuss fairy tales?

“Not anymore, but when I was a boy it was,” Matthew said. When her mouth opened in surprise, he slapped his knee. “Ha! I can tell from your expression that you didn’t know that.”

Aiden closed her mouth and then opened it again to ask why it wasn’t being taught anymore. Once again, Father Matthew beat her to the punch.

“It was removed from the approved syllabus about forty years ago,” Matthew explained with mild disgust. “Too many politicians, bureaucrats, and fools have decided that the Phoenix is nothing more than a myth, a story told to children like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. It’s a damn shame. Our people have stopped believing in the truth.”

“And it’s not a myth?” Aiden’s cheeks warmed. The gleam in the priest’s eyes told her that he’d read her mind.

“Oh, no. It’s not!” he exclaimed with a dramatic huff. His expression brightened at a new opportunity to tell one of his countless tales.

“It’s been hundreds of years since the last time the Phoenix was supposedly seen or heard from. If this tale used to be cannon, then why haven’t I heard this from you before?” They’d discussed a wide range of historical and controversial topics, and something being of a forbidden or taboo in nature had never been enough to stop Father Matthew before.

“Because this particular tale is on the banned subject list,” he admitted. “That, and there were other reasons for not telling you. No, don’t ask. I’m getting to those as well.”

Aiden sighed and closed her mouth. The priest was taking his own sweet time, and he wouldn’t be hurried. All she could do was try to remember.
Patience is a virtue.

The priest’s rich voice resounded throughout the study. “The War in Heaven was ending, and Lucifer the Lightbringer had been defeated. There had been countless battles during the Rebellion, but history only recalls the one that is lost.

“At this time, the War on Earth was also coming to a close, and the Grigori had lost. Shemyaza knew that it was over. His sons Hiwa and Hiya, who were Giants, had fallen in battle, and his beloved wife, Ishtarah, had taken her own life. All he had left was his third and youngest child, Hath, who was not like the Giants but was human and Nephilim.

“The other Grigori were one by one falling to the enemy, and the angels of destruction had been sent from Heaven to destroy the Nephilim. Shemyaza fled with Hath into the wilderness, fleeing for three days and three nights without remission, or respite until they came to the pinnacle of Mount Armon.

“Shemyaza summoned a great storm of wind and rain, and father and son stood beneath the open sky on the mountain, before the cardinal directions, and they acknowledged the four quarters. Shemyaza said to his son, ’In you I shall leave a legacy and bestow my power.’

“And so they built a pyre of branches and bramble, and Shemyaza drew a dagger and cut out his own heart. His blood and his life poured forth onto the pyre, igniting it with his death, because a Grigori’s angelic body is composed of fire.

“’The matter of this sacrament is true and natural fire. I baptize thee in the name of your Father, Shemyaza, and to you my power is bestowed. Step onto the pyre and receive my gift,’ Shemyaza instructed Hath.

“’Father, I do accept your gift and thank you,’ Hath said. He proudly stepped forward onto the burning pyre and to his death. Both sacrifices were made out of love, a father’s love for his son, a son’s love for his father, and a father’s love for all of his earthly children.

“Upon that night, the Phoenix was born from the fires of resurrection. A contract was forged, and it was the duty of the Phoenix to lead the Nephilim people, just as it was the duty of the people to follow.

“Upon that night, Noble Hath was reborn, resurrected as the Immortal Phoenix, and he became the great and rightful leader of the Nephilim people. For six thousand years, he endured until his spirit finally grew weary and cried out for rest.

“Performing the ritual as his father had done, Hath chose a successor from amongst Shemyaza’s direct descendants. The power of the Phoenix then passed to the courageous Channah who guided our people with temperance and wisdom for four and a half thousand years until the death of her lover sapped her will to live.

“In her immense grief, Channah chose her successor unwisely. The reign of the Third Phoenix was fraught with tragedy for our people, disastrous and short, a mere five hundred years before the reign of Cassio came to an abrupt and mysterious end.”

Father Matthew paused.

Aiden stirred, realizing that she’d been leaning forward in attentive fascination. “Cassio was the Phoenix who went missing?”

The priest responded with a solemn nod.