Read The Nephilim: Book One Online
Authors: Bridgette Blackstone
The Nephilim: Book One
THE NEPHILIM: BOOK
ONE
By Bridgette
Blackstone
The Nephilim: Book
One
Copyright © Bridgette
Blackstone 2014
This eBook is
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, resold, or republished. The author thanks you for respecting her
work.
Cover art by
Bridgette Blackstone using altered photography under Creative Commons.
Feather photography by
Hariadhi (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or
CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via
Wikimedia Commons.
For Andrew
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Flames burst all around her, beyond
them a vast darkness. The scarlet licked at the ebony, played across it, melted
into it. A silver haze draped itself over her and seized her throat. She fought
it, but it only consumed her faster, and all she could do was stare to the
darkened heavens, praying for a savior but knowing none would come.
She struggled to take in a
staggered breath, squinting through the smoke. It curled and twisted before
her, contorting itself in an ungodly fashion. Something was there, something
free of fire and the night. Something that made her reach for the infinite
shadows.
Fingertips broke through the haze
and met hers. She felt their warmth sliding across her open palm, caressing her
hand, grasping gently.
"Sophie," the voice was
nearly inaudible, "You're safe now."
She felt herself being lifted,
weightlessly upward and towards it. The flames were gone, the darkness giving
way to light. A different warmth came over her as she felt a body merely inches
from her own.
"You'll always be safe with
me." The hand gripped more tightly now as light fell on them revealing her
redeemer's figure, "I am always protecting you."
Pale blue eyes shimmered from a
shadowed face, and she reached out to touch him, to bring him into the light.
She snatched clumsily at the air, but it exhausted her. Her eyes became heavy
and her body melted into his arms.
***
The intense rays of dusk's sun fell
across Sophie as they poured in her window and forced her awake. She peered at
the clock: just after seven. Confusion took her for a moment as countless
thoughts rushed through her head.
Where did he go? What is this place? Why
is it so late?
She sat up and grasped the sheets,
holding them at her waist. Messy, honey-colored waves tumbled down her
shoulders and swept across her bare arms. A quick sigh escaped her lips as she
realized where she was and snorted at herself. It wasn’t morning, but evening.
The dream ran through her mind a
second time. It was him again and he saved her. She could not remember a time
when she didn’t have these dreams, though since the passing of her parents and
brother, they came much more frequently. The situations were always different,
but the man always the same. He had the same touch, the same supernatural power,
the same eyes, but an enigma for an identity. Sophie didn’t want to prod
through her dreams, searching for hidden truths and over analyzing the obvious,
but he intrigued her nonetheless. That is, if she could even call him
"he." He wasn't real, tangible, but a flight of fancy, an illusion.
And yet he was there, always.
But it was just a dream, she
reminded herself, and no matter who she was when she was asleep, she had to
face the real world when she was awake. The only problem was that she wasn’t
entirely sure who she was.
A breeze swept through the room,
and she lifted herself from the bed, though its comfort beckoned her to return.
She glanced back with a sigh at the bare walls and sparse furniture. All she
owned in the world, a single box of clothing, sat in the room’s corner.
Everything else had burned.
She gathered her wavy mane into a
messy bun and blinked amber eyes into the dim light of the hall outside her
bedroom. Mona’s room lay at the hall’s end, the door mysteriously open. Sophie
mulled the thought of entering over in her mind. Mona wasn't too fond of her to
begin with, but her room was the source of the current. She took careful steps
toward the room and peeked inside. The girl’s bed was empty, and she narrowed
her eyes; Mona took after her parents, usually asleep until nightfall.
Sophie knelt onto Mona's bed and
peered through the open window above it. Twelve stories below, the streets were
full of life. People bustled toward their destinations on foot, and the street
was jammed as always. An overwhelming energy rose from the city to greet her.
The day was spent and the streetlamps were silently switching on against an
orange sky.
Nothing stirred within the rest of
the darkened apartment, Sophie thought, gazing downward twelve hundred feet.
Surely Mona didn't...of course not. She chuckled to herself, then quickly
reached up and slammed shut the window pane. Despite how ridiculous the
thought, a jump that far gave her the chills.
"Sophie."
The voice made her jerk and fall
back onto the bed.
The woman in the doorway, clad in a
black satin robe, smiled and gave a little laugh, "Good evening,
dear."
"Oh," she forced on a
smile, still shaken, "Naomi, hi." Sophie still wasn’t used to her
Aunt's husky voice nor her ability to appear from nowhere, but then everything
about her seemed to be just off. Her eyes and hair, both the color of
chestnuts, shined with a newness that suggested a lifetime of relaxation. The
darkness of her gently falling tresses silhouetted sharp, delicate features and
her skin, youthful and free of lines, was so pale it almost shimmered, even in
the dimness of the hall.
Naomi’s complacent smile suddenly
vanished, "Where is Mona?"
"I don't know," Sophie
shrugged then realized she was not in her own room, "I was just closing
the window."
Naomi looked puzzled for a moment
then flashed another smile, always looking as if she held some secret that
could destroy anyone who defied her, "Oh, well I'm sure she'll turn up.
Come on now, I'll make you something to eat." She turned and glided down the
hall.
Sophie didn’t believe she’d ever
get used to Mona’s parents’ flippancy about her. She'll turn up? She understood
her new family was strange, but Mona was barely fifteen. In her own eighteen
years, Sophie’s parents had never let her out of their sight. That much, at
least, she could remember.
"Could I ask you
something?" Sophie stepped out into the immaculate kitchen after Naomi and
flipped on the light switch, something her aunt had neglected to do.
"Of course, darling,"
Naomi had a way of always calling her by endearing names, "Anything."
She sauntered to the refrigerator,
"Have you found those pictures?"
"Hmm?" Naomi's composure
fell for a minute.
"Of you and mom, I mean,"
Sophie spoke in a low tone as placed a gallon of milk on the breakfast bar.
Her aunt busied herself in the
kitchen cabinets, "Oh, no, not yet."
"If you want I can look while
you're at work and—"
"No!" Naomi snapped,
slamming a pan down onto the marble of the kitchen counters. She then collected
herself, closing her eyes and exhaling with a tight smile, "Don't worry,
I'll find them."
Sophie tended to pouring a drink,
ending the conversation with her silence.
"How would you like your
eggs?" The woman’s lithe figure did not suggest she had much experience in
the kitchen and of the few meals Sophie had eaten in the past weeks that Naomi
had tried her hand at, Sophie couldn't think of one worth trying again.
"Oh, you don't have to do
that. I'd rather just have toast," Sophie smiled weakly and hopped up on a
stool, counting on the off chance that her aunt couldn't possibly ruin heated
bread.
Sophie sipped from her cup and
gazed around the room. She was still in awe of just how tremendous their
apartment was. Everything was sharp and white and bare with bold pops of black
or red. The kitchen opened up into a sunken living room, in its center a modern
stone fireplace accessible from all sides. And though it was sparsely
furnished, they did have a few large pieces of art, but they were dark canvases
with odd golden and crimson symbols adorning them. Something about the symbols
felt familiar, but she could never place them no matter how long she stared.
Losing herself in the paintings, however, felt, well, she wouldn’t call it good
so much as it was a kind of comforting nothingness.
That feeling began to wash over her
as she stared at one of the pieces, letting her vision blur so that the lines
on the canvas almost formed a word. If she squinted she could almost read
"safe" in the obscured lines, even through the shadow coming over
them and grunting at her.
Sophie started, nearly falling from
the stool, thrown back into reality when she realized she was staring at Grant
who peered at her from above his cup. The steaming mug sunk below his chin and
he smirked modestly to acknowledge her presence as he continued up the step and
onto the kitchen landing. Her uncle was as stealthy as Naomi, though not nearly
as talkative, and she wondered if he had been there all along.
His muscular frame took a stiff
seat next to her at the bar. He had a strange smile; one that was seen very
seldom and, perhaps, not a smile at all. Though she didn’t know for sure, Grant
looked to be younger than Naomi, and she was unsure if he was Mona’s father as
the resemblance was nonexistent and he took next to no interest in her. Not
that he took much of an interest in anything. With a hearty shove of one very
large hand, Grant pushed his cup toward Naomi and lifted a thick, black brow.
She stared him down for a moment, and when he did not flinch she spun and
grabbed the coffee pot. Grant seemed pleased with himself, though it did not
come across on his face.
As her toast was passed to her and
the coffee poured, the front door swung open. Mona's eyes immediately met
Sophie's in an intense glare. It was as if the light refused to shine in them,
leaving them wholly black, and they stabbed Sophie at her core. The girl tensed
her petite body, her straight, chin length hair, darker than either of her
parents’, bobbing once before setting itself at severe angles about her face.
Their gaze was broken by the words
of a clearly aggravated, Naomi, "It's nice to see you've decided to come
back." Grant said nothing.
Without a reply, Mona left the
doorway and stalked across the living room purposefully. She wore a short black
sweater dress and tall leather boots that made her footfalls seem even more
resolute.
"Have something to eat,"
Naomi leaned lazily on the bar, the statement sounding almost like a question.
Mona ignored her and poured her own
cup of coffee. She leaned against the sink, directly across from Sophie, and
continued to stare her down with sharp, hawk-like eyes. She was tiny, but
terrifying.
Sophie, averted her eyes and
focused on shredding her toast. She popped a piece in her mouth and peered
coyly at Mona again when she felt the fiery glare might be diminished. When she
saw the girl had given up and was instead downing the steaming cup’s contents,
she studied her face. With all of them in the same room, Sophie wondered where
Mona got her clearly almond eyes and wheat-colored skin. Certainly not from
Grant’s swarthy complexion and Naomi was as white as a sheet.
"We're going out tonight.
We’re leaving in an hour whether you're ready or not.
Knocked out of her thoughts by
Mona’s sharp voice, Sophie stammered a moment and tried to reply, "Out? Do
you mean me?"
But Mona had already vanished down
the hall.
***
Verrine nestled herself in a corner
and leaned her head against the stone wall. With a nod, a candle across the
room ignited into a warm, orange flame, and she sighed, watching the flame play
against the cold gray stones.
"Where are you?" she
whispered to the walls of her bedchamber. Her voice hung in the air and fell
softly to the floor, weighed down by solitude. Ebony and coral skirts
surrounded her, falling over her knees to conceal the ground. She could call an
attendant or guard to her at any time, but she lacked the companionship she had
grown accompanied to so long ago.
A hand ran through her pin
straight, white locks. She opened her eyes onto Troian, a crooked smile adorning
his face. He sat beside her on the floor and wrapped an arm around her
shoulders, "Not having a great day?”
Verrine shook her head. “It’s
hitting me twofold today.”
“She's up there, Verrine," he
said with certainty, gazing at the ceiling as if he watched her at that very
moment.
She faced the same direction, but
only saw gray shadowed stone. "You don't know that," she muttered,
"That's what they say, but they haven't found her."
She knew her tone made him
uncomfortable as he shifted beside her and gave her a little squeeze, but she
couldn’t help herself. "They haven't found her
yet
."
She looked to him, his strong jaw
and sharp cheeks highlighted in the candle's glow. The flame danced in his
eyes, bringing their amber color to life, and shone across the slight waves in
his yellowed hair. How strong the resemblance was.
He rested against the wall, tense
as always. She could feel the energy running through him and the stress of
holding it at bay. Of course, there was more her depression than just missing
her friend, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak of it to Troian.
He caught her staring and raised an
eyebrow at her, and her stormy, gray eyes darted away from his gaze. He reached
out, gently cupping her chin, and pulled her face back to his.
"I feel so useless,
Troi," she admitted and slumped against his shoulder.
Troian nodded though she could not
see him with her tear-streaked face buried in his arm. "We all do, but I
thought I knew you better than that. I would never guess you would give
up."
Give up? The simple words danced in
her mind, taunting her, and she snapped her head back up. It wasn’t true, she
hadn’t given up. She narrowed her eyes and wiped at her cheeks, “I haven’t even
started yet.”
***
Sophie evaluated herself in the
full length mirror on the back of her door. Her pink t-shirt rode a bit too
high and her jeans stopped just below her protruding hip bones. She grabbed the
two at once and attempted to pull them together, but to no avail; the olive
skin of her stomach was slowly revealed again. She mumbled, defeated, and
looked toward the box of clothes that hadn’t reached the empty hangers, a
bundle of dirty ones heaped to its side.
