Page 90 of The Messengers of Magic

Chapter Sixty-Three

I t was nearly two o’clock when Adelaide returned, spinning into the apartment like a whirlwind.

“Pen, I hope you’re up here. Wait until I tell you what Carolyn’s been hiding in her guest room,” she said, stripping off her coat and tossing it onto the sofa.

Pen, standing near the side table, nudged The Great Gatsby off the edge and onto the floor. Adelaide bent down to retrieve it, glancing toward where he stood with a grin.

“Okay, good, you’re here.” She kicked off her shoes.

“Wait until you hear this. So, I got into the guest room, and when I unlocked the door…” She took a deep breath, words tumbling out as if she’d been holding them in for hours.

Pen had never seen her so flushed with adrenaline, so bright-eyed and animated before.

“Carolyn’s been living in there. I mean, really living in there. There were piles of books about astronomy, Bibles from around the world, spell books, and dozens of notes taped to the walls. She’s been trying to piece it all together, connect the dots on what happened to Rowland.”

Pen moved to the window, exhaled onto the glass, and traced two words into the fogged pane: She knows

Adelaide caught the message and hurried to his side. “Well, kinda. But get this, she wasn’t just hoarding books and journals in there. Rowland is there, Pen. He’s in that room!”

Pen’s mouth went dry. Rowland? There? But how? He blew another patch of mist onto the glass and wrote: Are you sure?

“I’m positive. I asked if he was there, and he knocked over a book, just like you did when you were trying to get my attention.

” Her expression shifted, the thrill of discovery giving way to troubled curiosity.

“The thing is, Carolyn thinks he’s a ghost. She’s been trying to help him move on , cross over to the other side, which isn’t going to happen, is it?

He’s not dead, Pen, he’s trapped, just like you. But how is he trapped there?”

Pen stared at her. My question exactly

Adelaide rubbed her arms. “The journal said the watch couldn’t leave this building, so how is he trapped at Carolyn’s? How is that even possible?” She didn’t expect him to have the answer; he could see that, but her question hung in the air like an echo of something much bigger.

“On my way home, I crossed a bridge over a small winding river,” Adelaide said with breathless disbelief.

“Which sounds completely normal… if it had been there this morning .” She paused, voice softening.

“And that’s not all. A large barn and field have appeared where the forest used to be on the outskirts of the village. Things are changing, fast.”

Her eyes clouded with unease as she stared into the distance. “We need to try to fix this sooner rather than later.”

Look on the table , Pen wrote in a fresh puff of breath on the glass.

Adelaide turned. She saw the papers on the table and moved toward them, sitting down slowly. “You read the rest of the journal?”

Yes

She reached for the first page, the instructions for destroying the watch, reading through them carefully, brow furrowing as it always did when she was concentrating.

“This is good news,” she murmured. “Now we know how to destroy it. But…” Her voice tightened. “What is a Nephilim and how do we find one?”

I don’t know

Read on

She picked up the second page, his letter. He’d come so close to not writing that final paragraph. Now, as she read it, he could only watch.

He watched as her eyes moved steadily over the words, slowing as she reached the end. She lingered there, reading the last lines again and again.

The silence stretched so long, it felt unbearable, until Pen thought he might break from it.

Then, finally, her voice came. “First,” she said, “this just got a lot more complicated. Finding some mythological creature seems… impossible.” She folded the letter in her lap and looked up, voice barely above a whisper. “Secondly… me too.”

Her eyes shimmered. “As crazy as it sounds to have fallen for someone I can’t even see, it’s happened, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m glad Jeff left me. I’m glad I ran away to Aunt Carolyn’s. I’m glad I followed that moth to the Feather Thorn, because they all led me to you.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Pen’s whole being ached to reach across the space between them, to wipe it away, to hold her even for one second.

“And even if this is all we ever get,” she whispered, “it’s better than anything I’ve ever had before.”

She was right. If this was all they had, then it was enough. He drew a heart on the glass.

She smiled through the tears and wiped her cheeks. “So,” she said, blinking hard, “what do we do now?” Her gaze fell back to the letter. “I think it’s safe to say we’re not going to find one of these Nephilim before the twenty-first, it’s only a few days away.”

We research

“You’re right.” She stood, resolve sharpening her features. “Let’s go downstairs and pull out anything we can find on these Nephilim.”

Pen followed her down into the bookshop. She moved quickly, heading straight to the religious section at the back. He was relieved to see the tall bookcase still standing in this timeline, one of the few that remained untouched.

“Let’s start on opposite ends and work toward the middle,” Adelaide suggested, already tugging down an old thick Bible bound in rich burgundy leather. “If you find anything that mentions the Nephilim, drop it to the floor, and I’ll add it to the stack.”

They spent the latter part of the day poring over every religious text on the shelf, and by the time the sun began to set, a small stack of books had gathered near Adelaide’s feet.

“I think this is it,” she said, picking them up and walking over to the reading corner. “Okay, let’s split the stacks. If you find anything that might help, write it down and then type it up for me to read.”

She opened the book, already immersed.

Pen liked this new assertiveness in her, direct, with purpose. Just when he thought she couldn’t be more attractive.

He worked through three books in his stack, scanning indexes, pages filled with vague mentions and translations. The final volume was no better. Like the others, it referenced the Nephilim only in passing, offering nothing of real consequence.

Just as he closed the book, Adelaide’s voice broke the hours-long silence.

“The Nephilim,” she read aloud, fingers tracing the words.

“The children born of the sons of God and the daughters of men. They were giants, both mighty and terrible. In their strength, they walked among humanity, their very presence a force to be reckoned with. Some were said to be heroes, legends of old, beings of incredible power, revered by mortals, almost like demigods. But most…” She paused, eyes scanning ahead. “Most were something darker.”

The fire in her tone dimmed as she continued on.

“These beings, born of divine and earthly blood, were cursed. For their very existence was an affront to the natural order. Though some performed great deeds, many turned to violence, corruption, and sin, bringing ruin to Earth. And when they died, they did not ascend to the heavens as mortals do. No, their spirits were condemned to remain here, trapped between realms, their souls twisted and forsaken. These spirits, the Bible called them demons. Their cursed presence lingers still, the remnants of what they once were, fallen, lost, and forever bound to Earth.”

Adelaide closed the book, her gaze drifting to the fading light outside.

“What we call demons… are we dealing with demons?” she questioned, just as a drop of red splattered onto the cover of the book.

She touched her nose. “Damn, another nosebleed?” She walked to the front desk and pulled a tissue from the box, pressing a wad up into her nose.

When she returned, Pen was already writing on the window near where they’d been reading.

Rest. It can wait till tomorrow

“But can it?”

Yes

He hoped she’d listen. The timeline shifts seemed to be affecting her physically now, and that made him nervous.

“It’s not even six yet,” she said stubbornly. “I’ll never fall asleep this early.”

Relax and Read

She smiled. “Okay, but only if you promise me one thing: you’ll join me. Let’s read upstairs together.”

He scrawled back quickly, OK

“I’ll be right back,” she said, standing and walking toward the hidden room.

She returned minutes later with John Dee’s journal in hand. “I figure I might as well read it all the way through. Maybe I’ll spot something you missed, a loophole. Seeing we got nowhere with these.” She pointed at the stack of books by the chair.

Pen followed her back upstairs and into the apartment, grabbing The Great Gatsby off the side table as they passed. He trailed behind her to the bedroom, pausing for the briefest of moments in the doorway before stepping inside.

Adelaide set the journal on the nightstand and shrugged off her cardigan, tossing it onto the dresser. With her back to him, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, the fabric falling open, revealing one bare shoulder.

“Pen,” she whispered.

The way his name fell from her lips struck him like lightning, lighting up every part of him, waking something deeper.

“Stay,” she said into the empty room, letting the shirt slide from her shoulders completely and pool onto the floor at her feet.

He stood only feet away, yet lifetimes apart, timelines layered like glass panes, separating him from the one thing he wanted most. His heart pounded with the ache of it, with the ferocity of his longing. If he could break time, he would, just to be with her for even a single moment.

He watched as she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. It slipped from her body, and something inside him clenched. Every sense, every nerve ending, lit up at once. He stepped behind her, so close he swore he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

He longed to reach out, to touch her, to feel her, soft and real beneath his fingertips. To kiss her. To be with her.

He lifted his hand, expecting the familiar resistance of absence, the way his fingers usually passed through her world like fog. But this time…

Warmth.

He was touching her, really touching her.

A jolt of heat surged through him as their reality shifted.

As he brushed her hair aside, she drew in a breath, her body stilling beneath his touch.

He lowered his lips to her neck and kissed her, softly, testing the boundary between what he longed for and what was real.

Her skin was warm, tasting faintly of salt and something sweeter, like summer heat ripened into nectar.

She gasped and leaned into him. It was all the permission he needed. He pressed his mouth to her skin again, trailing kisses down the delicate slope of her neck, his hands moving instinctively, reverently, fingers tracing the shape of her arms, her skin like silk on their tips.

He hadn’t touched another soul in decades. And even then never like this. Not skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Not with the weight of longing blooming into something exquisitely tender.

“Adelaide,” he whispered, her name falling from his lips like a vow.

She turned her head slightly as she answered. “Pen.” The sound of his name trembled between them, as fragile and undeniable as the moment itself.

This has to be a dream , he thought, as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, drawing her into him, her back to his chest, her presence anchoring him like gravity.

For a moment, just a moment, it felt like time was finally working in their favor, that it had opened a door, and let them step through, together.

But then…

As if some cruel trick had been played, his hands passed through her like mist dispersing at sunrise, the warmth gone in an instant.

He staggered back, breath unsteady, desire still coursing through him even as the weight of her absence sank in. And then he saw it. Just beneath her cascade of hair, where his hand had only brushed seconds ago, was a birthmark.

A birthmark in the shape of the Star of Venus.

The mark of a Nephilim.