Page 5

“The Uppers rarely bother with Eliouds,” her mother, Tia, pointed out, sitting beside him. “They don’t like any non-celestial species to have holy blood.”

Sad as it seemed—not to mention a complete overreaction, in Naomi’s opinion—the upper realm had sought to wipe out not only the Nephilim but all their children eons ago. Some of those children, however, had been hidden too well for the celestials to find.

At this point in time, Nephilim blood was so diluted that the only preternatural trait being passed through generations of Eliouds was the ability to channel divine power.

But those people would live human lives, oblivious to their heritage, unless located by monkhoods and taught how to access that ability.

While some had become clerics and formed holy sects like the one that had targeted Naomi, it was possible that not all had done so; that some Eliouds had decided to instead ignore their ancestry and blend with humans. But no one knew for sure.

“It amazes me that clerics would worship God, given that the upper realm once targeted the Nephilim and their descendants for death,” Naomi mused.

“I mean, I know they can’t utilize their ability to channel divine power unless they have the utmost faith in God.

It’s a literal necessity. But if I were them, I’d personally rather forfeit that ability than serve a being who had so many of my people slaughtered. ”

“I think they initially did it in the hope that the Uppers would leave them alone,” said Jolene, standing near the fireplace with Beck.

“Sort of ‘Look what good boys we are—founding monkhoods, devoting ourselves to God, serving him in all ways—there’s no need to kill us.’ But at some point over the generations, clerics began to maintain that God let them be because he’d chosen them to do his work.

” She snorted derisively. “I suspect the only reason the Uppers haven’t targeted them for death is that the Nephilim blood in them is so very weak. ”

Beck sighed. “A lot of religious fanatics pick and choose what they believe and twist the facts to suit them.”

Amen. No pun intended.

“I’ll use the description you have of the emblem on their tunics to find out what I can about these guys, Nome,” Khloe piped up from the armchair.

“Why bother?” asked Alfie. “They’re dead.”

“There could be more of them,” Khloe pointed out. “Plus, I’m curious to know more about the prophecy they quoted. It’ll be interesting to hear it in full. The language the main cleric spoke isn’t one that I recognize, though.”

“It’s a very ancient dialect that has its roots in Egypt,” Naomi told her.

“The part that they thought stated ‘For she who bears the mark will birth the child of the devil’ is actually ‘For she who bears the mark is the progeny of the devil.’ The meaning of a lot of ancient writings gets lost in translation. That appears to have been the case here.”

“Did they describe the mark?” asked Khloe.

“No. It has to be somewhere in the prophecy, though.”

“Plenty of old forecasts talk of the Antichrist bearing a mark—it’s even in the Bible. So that doesn’t give us a lead on which prophecy it might be,” said Ciaran, perched on the arm of his twin’s chair.

“I’ll pull up as many as I can find that go back as far as the language the cleric spoke,” said Khloe. “It’ll then be a matter of elimination.”

“If it was foretold by ancient clerics, there’ll be at least some truth in it,” said Jolene. “The first generation of Eliouds were direct sons of the Nephilim; they experienced premonitions, healed the sick, and wielded holy magick.”

Naomi prodded the birthmark on her shoulder, which faintly resembled a flame. “I never thought to cover my birthmark, because I never thought it would mean anything to anyone. Nothing about it screams I am the offspring of Lucifer. ”

“The prophecy must contain a description of it,” said Beck.

“Maybe I should conceal it with makeup from now on,” Naomi mused. “Just in case any other clerics stumble upon the prophecy and get dumb ideas.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” said Alfie. “What I don’t understand is how these particular clerics tracked you using the birthmark. It isn’t in a highly visible place. You don’t wear a lot of tanks.”

“People take photos and upload them to the web all the time,” said Tobe.

“Other people are often in the background, oblivious.” He cut his gaze to Naomi.

“It could be that you showed up on someone’s picture; that the photo was taken from an angle that gave a glimpse of your birthmark.

The clerics might have scoured the internet in search of some such clue.

There’s technology that can search the web for faces. Why not for birthmarks as well?”

“I hate to say it, but Tobe’s probably right,” said Khloe.

Tobe frowned. “Why do you hate to say it?”

“Because I was going to suggest it first. I don’t like that you beat me to it.”

“Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“Not at all, no.”

Plucking at his wiry beard, Beck skimmed his gaze over everyone. “Do we contact Lou about this?”

“I don’t see any point,” said Naomi. “I’m fine, and the clerics are dead. Plus, Lou can sometimes . . . overreact. Hence why I haven’t told him about Iain either.”

The last time someone had wronged Naomi, Lou had thrown him off a building—and then opened a portal to hell so that the asshole would drop right down into it when he fell. Her good ole dad was kind of a nut.

“Speaking of the Iain situation,” began Jolene, “what did Luka say when you spoke to him alone? He didn’t go into specifics when I questioned him.”

“He just wanted more details,” Naomi replied.

“I briefed him on all that Iain’s been up to.

I thought he might defend him—I mean, Iain is one of his demons after all.

But Luka made no excuses for him; didn’t pile the blame on me as others have done when their loved ones or associates got snared by a siren song.

He assured me he’d deal with it and that Iain won’t come near me again. ”

“Good,” grunted Tobe. “Iain would be a fucking idiot to go against Belinsky. Which, unfortunately, isn’t to say that he won’t. People under the influence of a siren song aren’t always rational. But if he’s likely to listen to anyone, it’ll be his Prime.”

“That, at least, is one bit of good news,” said Alfie. “The clerics went and shit all over it, though. You sure that it’s best to keep it from Lou, Naomi? Your dad will whine like a two-year-old if he finds out about it from someone else.”

“Without a doubt,” agreed Naomi. “But I don’t see any reason why he’d hear of it.” It wasn’t as if she saw him daily, and earthly business didn’t much interest him.

As dads went, Lou was . . . atypical. He cared for her and was part of her life, but in the way of a protective uncle. He was too emotionally immature to be what you’d call fatherly.

That said, he visited her every few months. He never forgot her birthday. If anyone upset her, he insisted on dealing with it. And if she reached out to him, he would come.

People in her lair thought that he gatecrashed their parties just for the fun of it. In truth, he came because she’d be there. It was his way of sharing special occasions with her without giving away their blood connection.

So, yeah, he was a dad of sorts. He and Alfie had both played a part in raising her alongside her mother. The three of them got along pretty well.

“Then I’ll spread the word around our lair that if anyone sees him, they aren’t to speak of what occurred here,” said Jolene. “They’ll just think I’m aiming to fuck with him again.”

Well, her Prime did relish driving Lou crazy—they bickered often, neither much liking the other. “What exactly are you going to tell them happened?” asked Naomi.

“Not the full truth, obviously,” Jolene assured her. “But it’s always best to dance around the truth than tell an outright lie. I’ll say that a silly group of fanatical clerics for some reason decided you were going to birth the Antichrist. People will only laugh.”

Nodding her head in approval, Naomi plopped the empty cups on the tray she’d set on the coffee table. “In their shoes, I’d definitely laugh.” She pyroported to the kitchen—a gift that was basically a variation of Lou’s ability to teleport.

She couldn’t pyroport far. Only several feet away. Lou, on the other hand, could teleport from realm to realm. Celestials generally lost that ability when they fell, but he’d retained it.

He wasn’t a mere angel, though; he was a seraphim. He’d been God’s favorite once. And due to that favoritism, he’d been awarded much power. Too much. A level that exceeded even that of archangels. Seraphim weren’t psychically built to host such a level.

Naomi thought it might have contributed to why he’d reached a mental point where he’d become a problem for those in the upper realm. Power corrupted, didn’t it? And the Uppers didn’t kick celestials out without very good reason.

The fall had further warped his conscience and character.

It had also twisted his gifts. That, in turn, had put a slight twist on hers .

And having the biological and psychic makeup of both a siren and a very powerful fallen seraphim meant that she wasn’t a normal demon by any stretch of the imagination.

But she was very, very good at hiding that.

Having placed the tray on the counter, intending to wash the mugs later, she returned to the living room.

“They shouldn’t have been able to sneak into this house without being seen by imps in the neighborhood at some point,” grumbled Alfie. “There aren’t even any signs of forced entry.”

“I doubt that was the first time those clerics had done a little breaking and entering while on holy quests,” mused Naomi.

Tobe shot her a hard look. “If you’d activated your alarm system, they wouldn’t have gotten inside.”

“I was in a rush earlier. I forgot.” She had a habit of being late. And forgetful, for that matter. “I won’t forget again.” Hopefully.

Tia heaved a sigh. “It seems like crime is forever on the rise. There’s no end to it. The nerve of some people is shocking. They seem to think they’re above the law.”

“Complains the woman who swindles people every day of her life,” quipped Alfie.

Tia glared at him. With her white headscarf, boho floral dress, large hooped earrings, and endless number of bangles, she looked the part she played to every human who entered her psychic shop. Fake part. She sniffed at her mate. “That’s hardly relevant here and now.”

“Honey, it’s always relevant,” Alfie contradicted, mirth twinkling in his brown eyes. “It’s a shame you’re not a real seer. You might have otherwise seen this coming.”

“What do we do with the swords?” asked Beck.

Ciaran pursed his lips. “I suppose we could sell them.”

“I don’t care what you do with them so long as they’re gone,” Naomi told him.

He lifted one off the floor, and his expression morphed into a grimace. “What the hell is that smell?”

Jolene frowned. “Smell?”

“It’s like a mix of decay and body odor,” he elaborated.

Jolene sidled up to him and leaned in to give the sword a quick sniff. Her face scrunched up. “Dark magick.”

Naomi blinked. “ Dark magick?” Her mind drifted back to when one of the Eliouds had sliced her; to how she’d felt something far from holy trying to ease inside her.

Jolene’s lips thinned. “Now just why would a bunch of devout clerics use a weapon embedded with dark magick?”

“They wouldn’t,” said Tia. “The strength of a cleric’s power depends on their faith in God. To purposely utilize any sort of black craft would sever their connection to that holy power. They wouldn’t have been able to toss magick at Naomi.”

“Meaning they had no idea their swords were enchanted,” Beck surmised.

Tia’s head whipped round to face Naomi. “They didn’t hurt you with those swords, did they?”

“Only once,” replied Naomi. “I wasn’t stabbed, just sliced. A sliver of what I now realize was dark magick tried infecting me, but my fire burned it away.”

Alfie blew out a relieved breath. “The Eliouds must have gotten their hands on those swords via a person they didn’t know was a dark practitioner. Though why a dark practitioner would sell them weapons, thus empowering them, makes no sense to me. They’re not exactly allies.”

Indeed. The two sides hated each other.

On the surface, it seemed that dark practitioners and clerics were polar opposites.

Dark practitioners were self-serving and on a constant quest to obtain more power, often worshipping cruel deities.

Clerics, on the other hand, considered themselves divine servants and sought to please God rather than themselves.

But both magick-users would torture and kill in the name of whatever being they worshiped, so they weren’t terribly different.

Khloe helped her brother gather up the blades. “I’ll start digging into these clerics tomorrow.” She spared Naomi a quick glance. “Hopefully I’ll have something to tell you when you come to Urban Ink on Monday for your tattoo.” Khloe worked as the receptionist at the studio.

“No rush,” said Naomi. “As I said, they’re all dead. There’s no further harm they can do at this point.” Unless there were in fact more of them. Fingers crossed that wasn’t the case.