“Luke seems to hate Julian.”
“Well, that’s because of Anna. Luke had a thing for that girl. And I think he’s worried he’ll lose Lily the same way. She’s like a sister to him, so he gets all ass-sore when he thinks something, or someone, is threatening her.”
Michael’s lip twitched.
“You know, the strangest thing about Julian is that I don’t think he’s touched a Nephilim since he started following Lily,” Remy continued. “Luke has crossed his path. So have I. He won’t fight us. And I know he isn’t scared of us.”
Michael leaned to the side, trying to ease his muscles. “Maybe he’s different?”
“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that,” Remy advised softly. “Things are pretty black-and-white around here. The Fallen are evil, no questions asked.”
Being on the force was like that. You broke the law or you didn’t. There was no in-between, but in this world there seemed to be a lot of gray area. And Michael wasn’t ready to side one way or the other. “Is that what you think?”
Remy smiled. “Between you, me, and God, I really don’t know. The fine line is hard to walk. And I personally believe not every two things in this world are the same. Look how we started compared to what we are today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, sorry. I keep forgetting you don’t know the history of us.” Remy tucked the loose dread back. “The short version is the very first Nephilim to ever walk this Earth weren’t the nicest folks to be around—not all of them, but most. And they were way different than us. First-generation Nephilim carried some of the angelic power from their fathers, since they didn’t fall until the actual act of…conception.”
“Wait. What?” Michael rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache. Again.
“The angels fell after having sex. Who knows if that was the reason they fell in the first place. No one really knows. Anyway, their children—the very first Nephilim—had gifts. Whatever their angelic father had. Remember how Baal could burn with his touch? Well, others could inspire or torment. Some could rain brimstone and fire. Any Nephilim produced after an angel fell were just regular Nephilim. Anyway, the first Nephilim abused their power and gifts. They weren’t good.”
“The flood,” Michael murmured, and noted the Book of Enoch.
“Exactly.” Remy shrugged. “So, you see. We weren’t good when we first came around. So who’s to say some of the Fallen haven’t changed. No one knows. But most believe it’s too much of a risk to take.”
“Are any of the original Nephilim left?”
A small smile appeared on Remy’s lips. “Very few. Some even believe firstborn Nephilim still pop up every once in a while.”
“Shit. No way. Like today, running around with angelic superpowers?”
Remy laughed. “Yep. It’s a rumor, but hell, anything is possible.”
“And are these Nephilim bad?”
“We’re born with free will, bud. None of us are born bad or good.” He paused, glancing up at the ceiling. “But can you imagine what would happen if the Fallen got hold of a firstborn Nephilim and corrupted him? With him having angelic-like power, we’d be screwed.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lily ditched Luke somewhere between Georgia and New Hampshire avenues. It was surprisingly easier than she thought it would be. She pointed out a group of college girls leaving a bar and then “lover boy” had to go do his thing.
Guys—Nephilim or not—were so damn predictable.
The night was almost over, but she wasn’t tired. A lot was floating around her head, thoughts she wasn’t very comfortable with. Something about Michael’s question had latched onto her and wouldn’t let go.
Just because she signed the Contract didn’t mean she couldn’t have a personal life. The guys were a perfect example of that. They dated—using the word “dating” very loosely—they had lives. Being contracted didn’t mean you couldn’t have sex or form bonds with humans. It just made things complicated. She could marry if she found a Nephilim she wanted, but she never cared about that before.
There were times when she spied upon the humans and other Nephilim that had settled down to normal lives. She saw the moments couples snuck when they thought no one was watching—the long looks of yearning they would share, the whispered promises and secret smiles. Those stolen moments would sometimes ignite an ache deep inside her.
Loneliness mixed with the desire to be close, really close to someone. It was more than a longing for the physical. Could it be she wanted to share her life with someone?
This—all of this—needed to be squashed. She’d made her decision a long time ago, and there was nothing that could be done now to change it. Even thinking about it was wrong. She was a hunter. That didn’t leave room for a nice little husband she could whisper sweet nothings to. It would make her weak. She would falter, and ultimately fail at her duty.
And love made people do stupid things. Having a life didn’t mean love had to be in it. Love and life—they weren’t codependent.
She came to a halt on top of the Hilton, staring down at the busy Connecticut Avenue intersection. I have a life. I do. I have friends and I have…Julian. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
So many things wrong with that. She didn’t have Julian—she couldn’t have Julian. It wasn’t like he was another Nephilim or even a human—a human would have been better choice.
A rabid opossum would have been a smarter choice.
Pushing away from the ledge, she marched across the rooftop. What the hell was wrong with her? What was it about Julian that was worth risking everything for? As soon as that thought finished, the familiar feeling shifted over her, and she was reminded quite plainly of one of the reasons why she was risking everything.