Sons of Angels (17 page)

“That’s really interesting.”

“I know.”

“What happened to the nephilim?”

“What?” Jasfoup looked momentarily confused. “Oh. Well. God was cross about his beloved mortals becoming entrees for the nephilim, so he had a word with the grigori. ‘Stop your children from snacking on mine,’ he said, ‘or I’ll slaughter the lot of them.’”

Jasfoup paused and wiped his hands clean of fish. They glowed as he sterilized them with his own body heat. “Well, the grigori were proud of their children. ‘Look at them,’ they said. ‘They’re like little gods, doing as they will.’ God was even angrier now. ‘They’re killing half my mortals and corrupting the rest into temptation and debauchery. If you don’t so something about them, then I will’.”

“And did they?”

“Of course not. They let their kids carry on playing in the sandpit, so when He looked down again, He saw all the sinning. ‘Right,’ says He. ‘I’ve about had enough of this. I’m going to wipe out the whole lot of them and start again from scratch’.” Jasfoup paused. “All this talking is giving me a dry mouth. Dry, hot and sticky.”

“Would you like me to make you more tea?”

The demon grinned. “I’m glad to see you’re still paying attention. I’m full of tea, but a soul wouldn’t go amiss if you have one spare.”

“I’m afraid not. Do go on, though. This is fascinating.”

Jasfoup nodded. “Thank you. Anyway, the grigori promise to get their offspring to toe the line, but by now it’s too late, and God goes off to work on his plans. The grigori warn their children, but only a few of them pay any heed.”

“What happened?”

“The Flood happened. God drowned every last one of them, nephilim and mortal alike, save Noah and his family.”

“None of the nephilim escaped?”

“Ah, yes,” Jasfoup grinned. “Some of them heeded the warnings and shut themselves up in an airtight cave, only to emerge again when the waters subsided, reducing their size and blending in with the mortals so God wouldn’t notice them.”

“So they survived and prospered. Why would the angels be killing them now?”

“Contract hits?” Jasfoup narrowed his eyes and paused.

Felicia shook her head. “God hiring hitmen? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Jasfoup rubbed his fingers on the rosemary again. “Not God. Someone else, who doesn’t want to alert God to the presence of all the nephilim, but has enough sway with seraphs to get the job done.”

Felicia was at a loss. “Who could that be?”

Jasfoup stared out over the garden. “I can only think of one. The Prince in Darkness and Lord of the status-quo. Lucifer.”

Chapter 18

Felicia searched the demon’s face, trying to tell if he was joking. Either way, she was having a hard time trying not to laugh. Mirth snorted down her nose, despite her attempt at self-restraint. “Lucifer? You’re having me on, surely?”

Jasfoup raised an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

“Yes, but...” Felicia searched for the appropriate word. “Lucifer? He’s a child’s fairy tale, designed to scare people into doing what they’re told.”

Jasfoup shrugged. “Why would you think that? You’ve met two seraphs, a grigori, a demon, several imps and a bunch of nephilim. Why can’t you believe Lucifer exists?”

Felicia bent down and picked a cornflower. “I don’t know. The Lord of Evil? All I really know is what I’ve experienced and what you’ve told me. It takes more of a leap to imagine him real.” She laughed. “I don’t even believe I’m a werewolf. I keep hoping to wake up to find it’s still last Saturday and this was all a bad dream.”

“Believe it. It’s not even a nightmare. Lucifer exists.”

“So the priests were right about Hell?”

Felicia sat back down on the bench. She’d grown up with the concept of Heaven and Hell only to reject it when one realized they were based on much earlier principles of pagan religions. It was disconcerting to have the living proof offering tea and crumpets.

“Yes, although it was their belief that made it a reality. If you don’t believe in it then you don’t go to either place when you die, but to whatever you do believe in.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it?” Jasfoup shook his head slowly. “You have to really, really believe in it, though. If in the deepest, darkest bit of your heart you still believe in Hell, that’s where you’ll go.”

“I have to ask. Do most people go to Heaven?”

Jasfoup laughed. “Not on your nelly. If you’re lucky, you only have minor stains on your soul and you go to Purgatory, otherwise, it’s straight down to the fiery pit. The gates of Heaven are rusted shut.”

“What about me? I’m a lapsed Catholic werewolf.”

“What about you?” Jasfoup looked out at the multitude of cats, sunning themselves and ignoring the ghost dog baiting them. He looked up at the encroaching clouds. “Do you believe in Hell?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I? The proof is sitting right here stretching his wings. I knew there was something odd about you.”

“If you believe in Hell, then that’s where you’ll go, but if you’re more nephilim than human, you’ll become a devil instead of a tortured soul.”

“I thought devils were fallen angels?”

“No, that’s demons. Devils are converted humans and nephilim.” Jasfoup held out his arms. “We love this world. You provide our every recruit.”

“What about Harold? Is he a demon too?”

“Good gracious, no.” Jasfoup laughed. “He wouldn’t have half his hang-ups if he was a demon. Harold is nephilim, roughly human on his mother’s side.”

“Roughly human?”

“Human-ish, anyway. Three-eighths.”

“What about his father’s side?”

“That’s all demon.” Jasfoup grinned. “That’s another reason why you should believe in Lucifer. You’ve met his son.”

Felicia gasped. “Harold is the antichrist?”

Jasfoup grimaced. “Bugger me, no. He has a conscience and everything. It’s pathetic, really.”

“Don’t be horrid.” Felicia looked at her watch and picked up her coffee cup to take back into the house. “I like Harold. He’s always been good to me.”

“My point exactly.” Jasfoup handed her his mug as well. “Pathetic.”

“What about the other eighth?”

“Other eighth?”

“You said Harold was half-demon and three-eighths human. What’s the other bit?”

“Oh. Fae, on his mother’s side.”

“Really? No wonder he’s a born magician then.”

“He’s not. He learned it from a book.”

“A book?” Felicia followed him into the kitchen, pausing when she saw both Harold and Julie.

“It was a book of magic, but still...” Jasfoup blinked. “Good morning, Harold. I was just telling Felicia how useless you are.”

“You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me,” Harold replied through a mouthful of corn flakes. “What does that make you?”

“An opportunist.”

Felicia laughed and embraced her sister. Wrack, in his customary position on her shoulder, gave way begrudgingly. “Freedom suits you.”

“It’s good to be out. Where’s Taliel?”

“He left last night.” Harold opened a cupboard. “He had some business.”

“Talking of which.” Jasfoup took out a notebook. “I researched what nephilim were in the area. Laverstone, being inherently magical, has a higher percentage of nephilim per capita than any other place in Britain.”

Felicia was surprised. “Even Glastonbury?”

“Tch.” Harold was dismissive. “Glastonbury.”

Julie frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

“We don’t talk about Glastonbury.” Harold looked to the demon. “What did you find out then? Can we mark them on the map?”

“Probably.” Jasfoup leaned over and pointed to the open circle. “They got Jonathan Metcalfe last night. There are six more.” Jasfoup read from his list. “Gary Hughes on Staple Row.”

Harold trailed his finger across the map until he located the street and drew a ring around it. “Who else?”

“Jennifer Keller on Callow Hill and three more we know.” Jasfoup found the hospital on the map. “Joshua, of course. Julie Turling, Felicia Turling–” he pointed to her flat “–and Harold Waterman.” His finger finished on top of Laverstone Manor.

Harold drew circles around them. “There must be a pattern. If we can find it, we can work out which they’ll attack next.”

“Why isn’t Gillian on the list?” asked Felicia. “She’s nephilim as well.”

“She is on the list, but as her last known residence was on the Rue Saint-Denis in Paris, they’re not going to find her in a hurry. They’re not very good on those who ‘walk without the light of God’.”

“You have all this information in Hell?”

“Nah.” Jasfoup grinned. “I know someone who knows someone. Have you come across the phrase ‘God sees all’?”

“Of course.” Felicia shuddered. “It always unnerved me a bit, wondering if He was watching me masturbate.”

“Watching? He sells the DVDs.” Jasfoup laughed. “Only kidding. It’s not actually Him that watches everything but a team of angelic auditors. We just get the information from their database.”

“What patterns do you see?” Julie craned over the map, as if her blindness could be mitigated by proximity.

Harold frowned. “Nothing yet.” He connected several lines. “Let me try another way.” He connected every other point, then every third and finally connected each dwelling to every other.

“There is a pattern.” Jasfoup’s voice trembled.

Julie looked toward his voice. “What?”

Felicia frowned. “I don’t see one.”

“Can’t you?” Jasfoup traced an outline using the lines Harold had drawn. “It’s a little rabbit.”

Harold threw his pen down. “That’s no help at all.”

“At least we know the houses he’ll strike at next.”

“Which is what we wanted the pattern to show in the first place.” Jasfoup beamed. “Harold, you’re a genius. All it took to find the address of the next victim was a map, a ruler and the address of the next victim. Astounding.”

Harold scowled. “Very funny.”

“We need to warn this Gary Hughes and then stake out the place,” Felicia said. “It’ll have to be twenty-four hours, though, because he strikes during the day as well.”

“Easily done.” Harold clicked his fingers and waited until a small imp appeared. “Devious, old chum? I’ve a little job for you.”

* * * *

Felicia drove Julie to her flat. In the three years Felicia had lived there, Julie had never been. Now she walked up the steps as if she’d visited a hundred times, the imp on her shoulder warning her about stairs and threshold lips. She looked at the imp’s scaly tail hanging down Julie’s back. Did imps break wind? Defecate?

She was non-committal about moving in. “I’m sure it’s lovely but I can’t really tell, can I? It feels nice and this room will get the sun in the morning. I’d like that. My room in the hospital was shadowed by the boiler house.”

“Didn’t you ask to move rooms?”

“Only once.” Julie gave a rueful laugh. “They gave me that room because I was blind so it wouldn’t make any difference to me.”

“The buggers.” Felicia hugged her, enduring Wrack’s glare. “Now, I need to make a phone call to the funeral directors about Mum. Do you have any thoughts about that?”

“Such as?” Wrack guided her to a chair. “Can they arrange to have her rot in Hell?”

“I doubt it.” Felicia wasn’t offended. Their mother had treated her very badly. “Anyway, according to Jasfoup, dead nephilim become devils.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.” Julie took a brush out of her bag and began to brush her hair. “Why change your nature after you’re dead?”

“That’s cruel.” Felicia shook her head. “Is there any special arrangements you’d like made? I thought we could skip the funeral and just have a stone erected somewhere.”

“How about Battersea Dogs home with all the other bitches?”