Iron Inheritance (37 page)

I looked out at the room. It was the same way with all of them—eyes hooked on Denisov’s drug so much that I wondered if she was using her Messenger talent more than they knew.

But it was a battle they couldn’t win, not this time, not against him.

I pushed myself away from my friends and stepped up next to Denisov. “I know what’s coming,” I said unevenly, my voice carrying through the microphone and reverberating off the chapel’s walls.

Denisov’s hawk eyes narrowed, and she tensed her shoulders, half a growl in her throat at my interruption.

“Kovac didn’t want to kill me; he wanted me to kill him. He was following orders from a Fallen,” I said before I lost the nerve and my mouth dried up again. They had to know the truth.

A gasp and a whisper ran through the crowd so fast the lights seemed to flicker.

“A Fallen!” Morales crept to the center of the stage, though still one step below us. “You are sure?”

Josh spoke up first, his voice carrying without the microphone. “He’s covered in enough scars to command a whole legion—definitely a Fallen.”

“What does it matter if he has scars?” said Ria, unable to contain herself.

Morales’ already pale skin went stark white. “Scars represent the sins committed by the Fallen, and each one gives them power. All Babylonians have them—marks of evil on their souls—but only the Fallen display them outright. They are all spirit and no flesh,” she said, almost in a trance, her legs drawing her farther up the stairs until a fiery glare from Denisov made her retreat.

“There’s more,” I called into the mic, regretting every moment that passed. “He said to meet him at the hell mouth at sunrise or—” I hesitated. “He’ll kill everyone in a twenty-mile radius.”

Another gasp shuddered through the crowd before the yells.

“No!”

“You’re lying!”

Amid the confusion of all the different conversations in the audience, Morales watched me carefully, her eyes returning to the calculating gears from the first time I saw her. Denisov drew up to her full height and waved once to silence the crowd. They gave it to her instantly.

“What else, Brooks? What else did he tell you?”

“I—”

“The Fallen are nothing if not strategic.” Morales stepped up higher, almost level with Denisov now, not looking at her but keeping her eyes on me. “He would have wanted to make a deal. What are the terms?”

My body seized. I glanced to Josh, but his face had turned to stone. I wavered.

“He wants me to join him,” I began.

Denisov held up her hand to stifle the grumble of disbelief from the crowd.

“Why?”

“He wants her to repent. He’s trying to thin out our forces,” supplied Josh hurriedly.

Denisov nodded at this, but didn’t look at him, her eyes trained intently on me.

I looked at my friends and the Tercets, the whole crowd of people who had just shown me the joy they’d experienced with my family—my dead family.

If I left without even telling them, they’d be dead. At least this way they’d have a chance. They’d know what they were up against.

I turned to Josh one more time and whispered, “Trust me.”

“I’m a Blood Nephilim,” I said, the words reverberating off the stone walls.

Silence followed and swallowed all other sound whole. Eyes latched on to me with mouths wide open. Denisov took a step back. Morales nodded. Duke and the Tercets looked as stone-faced as Josh. Ria and Freddy blinked rapidly. Nate shook his head in willful disbelief. Miranda smiled.

“She’s an abomination!” Someone yelled from the middle of the pews as if his words had caught in his throat on the way up.

I stared out as several more nodded in agreement, faces reddening, eyes bulging wide and beating shame into me.

Finkelstein’s lectures flooded back into my mind—the painting he projected of the last Blood Nephilim, Lyra, standing in a valley up to her knees in blood, body parts all around, her hand reaching to the sky, head thrown back in ecstasy. That’s what they thought of me, what I would become.

“Well you’re an abominable Snow Ass, so there!” Ria’s voice cut through the din of disbelief and repulsion, her eyes fiery as she stood at my side.

Miranda clutched her stomach in silent hysterics from Ria’s comeback. Nate stared at me blankly, his lips parted enough for a whispered “No” with every small shake of his head.

The crowd squirmed as they turned to one another to whisper, each group with one person keeping their eyes on me.

“Section leaders.” Denisov’s voice boomed out of her thin frame. “Prepare for an attack on Griffith Park and an evacuation plan for the humans in the radius Brooks indicated. Commander Tercet, I leave it to you.” She nodded to the side of the stage.

Brody, his thick beard and barrel chest more imposing than ever, lumbered down from the stage and started grumbling at people, his mere presence pushing them back toward the doors.

Denisov put her hand on my back and guided me off stage through a side door. Ria and the rest of the group—even Morales and Jody Tercet—followed close behind, none of them saying a word.

Rich wooden lockers with golden nameplates sprang into view as the door swung forward. The same green carpet from the faculty offices upstairs rolled across the floor. In all regards it could have been transplanted from a country club if it weren’t for the swords and axes and sets of knives that lined the walls, each hanging from a well-worn hook.

“Explain.” Denisov turned on me, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

The words stuck halfway up my throat. Was I really sure about this? Procel said I was a Blood Nephilim, but was he telling the truth? How could I really know for sure?

“What other talents have you shown?” said Morales, her eyes trained on mine in that way that made me think that she could read my mind.

I licked my lips, not wanting to look at Josh now. His face had gone so blank on the stage that every time I looked back at him I thought I should just deny the whole thing. He was right. I was an abomination to them. What was I thinking?

“Evelyn,” Morales repeated, softer this time. “What other talents?”

“Prophet,” I said, staring at her, waiting for a reaction.

She nodded curtly without blinking, even though her pupils dilated to twice their normal size, fluttering back and forth as if she was reading.

“I was able to project at the hell mouth,” I continued, pulled by an odd force to say more. “And sometimes when I touch people, I can see things.” My eyes flicked to Nate and then Josh, what I’d seen while projecting and when I touched Josh’s hand little more than a blurry watercolor now.

A strong silence persisted, eyes staring into me for more answers that I didn’t have, Denisov’s more accusatory than interested.

“What’s the big deal?” Ria eyed the room like she’d karate chop anyone who came near me. “So she’s got more essence than the rest of you—big whoop. It’s not a competition or anything.” She came closer to my side and leaned in near my ear. “But if it is, you’re totally winning.”

Jody chuckled even as Denisov’s leer remained. “At least this explains what happened with Kovac when your hands touched. Your whole body went rigid and you couldn’t hear us calling. You saw something, didn’t you? That’s what made you stop.”

I nodded, her smile still disconcerting to me. “I saw Procel—the Fallen—giving Kovac orders to let me kill him, for him to make me think my mom was still alive, and then get me so angry that I’d take it out on him.”

Duke’s neat brow furrowed. “Why would he want that?”

“Because only a Blood Nephilim can join the keys to creation,” said Morales, her voice still far away even as her eyes came back into focus. “Blood Nephilim were known for their unrivaled power—it consumed them. Human bodies were not meant for such power, and they soon decayed, most often into madness.”

I chewed my tongue and nodded. “Well, at least there’s that to look forward to.”

“The keys to creation, as referenced in the vision you heard in your outing to save your Guardian, were objects created by the Blood Nephilim that, when joined, might have been able to replicate God’s ultimate power—
ex nihilo
creation. Fortunately, the Blood Nephilim were destroyed and the objects were lost…until now. The Fallen must need you to find them.”

“
Ex nily?
”said Ria.

“Out of nothing,” I whispered, my eyes wide, as I went over Meg’s words again.
Iron strikes the mountain’s mouth to bridge the divide. Iron wakes the all powerful darkness inside. Iron joins the keys to creation—one in five. Iron calls the sword of flame, and all will abide.

I stared at Morales. “All this time you thought I was a—”

She took her glasses off and let the chain catch the ends on her chest, half a smile gracing her lips. “You’re not the only one who spends too much of her time in the library, and I know where to look for the books people have forgotten. That, and Solomon was the smartest man I knew,” she said, like it was hard to admit. “He would have known that a Patron headquarters was more secure than anything he could have made. The only reason he would have had was to hide something. My mind is curious by nature, and when you displayed such an abundance of talent when you fought Ms. Dearborne, I began to research.”

It felt like she’d socked me in the gut. I’d been in the library for weeks on end reading everything I could get my hands on, but I somehow missed this? And yet Grandpa knew? After everything else he’d hidden from me? How could he not tell me that I was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off? Something so terrible that even God thought I was too much of a threat?

“Don’t make this mistake.” Nate shook his head, obstinately unwilling to hear anything that had been said. “None of this means—don’t let some woman’s vision lead you into something that—”

“I think your father is the archangel Uriel,” Duke cut him off, his eyes alight as he looked at me, a wave of relief washing over the rest of him like he’d been waiting to say this for a week.

My heart caught in my throat. “What?”

“Iron calls the sword of flame and all will abide,” Duke said from memory. “The meteor struck. It revealed the hell mouth. It revealed Procel—the darkness inside. It will reveal one of the keys the original Blood Nephilim made. Now you, the sword of flame, Uriel’s flaming sword that protects Eden, the place of the world’s creation, will lead us up that mountain, and we’ll follow you.”

My jaw hung open, and I flicked my eyes around the room to the others. Even Morales looked shocked. “You think my father—the one who ran out on me before I was even born—is Uriel? An archangel. And somehow, that vision says that I’m his sword?”

“That meteor called you to that mountaintop.” Duke said, his gray eyes bright, his body full of energy. “Right now, it’s as believable as you being a Blood Nephilim, isn’t it?” He smiled. “Unbelievable is how we even exist right now.”

I shook my head and turned away from them, the rows of lockers stretching a long distance off. How could I be Uriel’s sword? That was some stupid metaphor, if you asked me. And now, because of that, all these Patrons were supposed to follow me? For what? To die by my side?

And why would my mom have slept with an angel in the first place? I guess it’s not that hard to imagine—you know, him being an angel and all. But had he loved her? Why would he have been with her, knowing it would land him an eternity in prison?

“If Eve is a Blood Nephilim—and I’m not even saying I believe that—,” Josh’s deep voice broke the silence in half from behind me.

I turned around and looked at him as he sat on one of the benches in front of the lockers.

“If Procel can make her repent and choose the Fallen, there’s no coming back from that, and he would be able to control her.”

Duke nodded. “If he does that, he’ll be able to make her find all of the keys the Blood Nephilim made.”

An uncomfortable weight settled on my shoulders. Repent—basically, choose to go evil— and I’d get to watch Procel become God. Don’t repent, and I’d get to watch every person I love die because of me.

“Well, then there’s no problem.” Ria slung her arm around my neck. “Evey’s more walk than talk. She’ll just kick his butt and be done with it. No possibility of mind control.” She grinned at me, her eyes fiery as she looked out at the room as if ordering them to smile.

Miranda and Freddy complied readily, though I don’t think it was from the intimidation.

Denisov cleared her throat and stepped toward me, done talking, done discussing. “If one of the Fallen is going to attack, we evacuate as many humans as possible around the base of the mountain.”

“And the Fallen? How are we going to deal with him?” said Jody, her toned arms and shoulders almost identical to Denisov’s.

“You can’t kill a Fallen,” Nate whispered, finally giving in to the insanity of the room and sitting down next to Josh.

At least I knew now he wasn’t lying anymore. All this seemed as much a surprise to him as it was me.

“Especially not if the Fallen’s on the ground already. Where’s the fun in that?” Freddy grinned, his eyes darting back and forth. “You know, because he’s a Fallen. How can you fall when you’re on the ground?”

Ria and Miranda snickered.

“I like when you explain your jokes. It makes them good.” Miranda patted his massive forearm as she smiled.

“Sol’s sacrifice didn’t work.” Nate clenched his jaw. “How is that possible?”

Not even Morales spoke, her pupils their normal size—no book or scrap of knowledge to reference.

I blinked and saw the flash of blinding white light in my mind again—the moment Grandpa had died. The scream that wracked the air and the hot earth under my back. Grandpa had spread out his arms to block Procel’s attack. His sacrifice made Procel disappear long enough for us to get away, but nothing more. It couldn’t kill him—just buy the people he loved more time.

I inhaled sharply as another memory of Procel’s anguished yellow eyes sparked into view. Outside the diner just before he was going to kill everyone, I threw myself in front of them the same way Grandpa did for me—arms spread wide. He was afraid I’d try to sacrifice myself for them. A sacrifice couldn’t kill him, but it could hurt him enough that he didn’t want to go through it again.