The Pella Series - Chapter V - Starless Night

STARLESS NIGHT

CHAPTER V

Elissa Cassandra Duncan

“Hi, I don’t believe we've met. I’m Ellie,” I say and extend my hand to Alex’s what -- Security guy? Driver?

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. My name is Anthony Decimus,” he replies taking my proffered hand not looking into my eyes. Odd...

“What do you do for Mr. Pella, if I may ask?” I quiz him slowly.

“I hold a few positions ma’am,” he answers me cryptically. I blink. He keeps his demeanor in a professional level with me, looking ahead in attention position like a seasoned soldier in the presence of a higher ranking officer.

“I didn't mean to intrude, I’m sorry,” I say, chagrined.

“You didn't ma’am. Working for a man such as Mr. Pella is not a nine to six job; therefore my position is not a conventional one. But my main responsibility is close protection and I am the head of security. However, I also shoulder other responsibilities which do not have a job description out there,” he says, and my reply to him is a confused gaze.

“Does no one hold conventional jobs in this company?” I ask.

“There are conventional jobs at Pella Aerospace and Energy Enterprises Incorporated like any other company, ma’am. However, those of us who work for Mr. Pella specifically and only for him do not hold conventional jobs. He is an unconventional boss, ma’am,” he says with a polite smile. Oh! So, that confirms it then. My job will also be an unconventional one.

“How so?” I ask, and the elevator doors open.

Anthony, indicates the door respectfully, and ushers me out.

Once we’re in the underground garage, “Follow me please, ma’am,” he requests and I follow him.

“Do you know where I live?” I ask once we reach to a strange looking SUV that I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the likes before. It looks like a very high tech armored vehicle.

“I will request the address from you once we are in the vehicle, ma’am.”

“What sort of an SUV is this, Mr. Decimus?” I ask as he opens the passenger door for me.

“Please, you may call me Anthony, ma’am. She’s a Conquest Knight XV ma’am.”

“Never seen one,” I murmur.

“I don’t believe you would, ma’am. They are not widely used,” he replies and closes my door. My eyes focus on the heavy duty hinges of the door. When he gets into the driver’s seat, he looks at me expectantly. Oh, my address! He hits a button and a wide screen slides out and tilts in his direction. I give him the address. He hits a few buttons and nods, and then backs the SUV out of its parking space. When we come to the exit gate in the parking space he slows down and in six seconds a blue light scans something on the vehicle and lifts up, and he eases the vehicle into Los Angeles traffic. I had not realized that the sun would be close to setting already. How long have I been here? The headlights come on automatically.

“I’ll take a different route to avoid the rush hour traffic, ma’am.”

“I don’t know if there’s any way to avoid it, Anthony. It’s just busy all around at this time in the city.” He smiles politely but, he looks like he knows something that I don’t. The SUV’s windows are heavily tinted, and it makes the outside look darker from my passenger window. The interior is completely custom made. The seats are charcoal color leather; it smells brand new. I take a deep breath automatically inhaling the scent of soft leather. It makes me feel comforted for some odd reason.

“Would you like some music, or do you prefer to watch TV, ma’am?” Anthony asks.

            “TV? Here?” I ask.

“Yes ma’am. The vehicle is fitted with state of the art satellite system should you wish to utilize it.”

“Oh... I don’t need to watch TV. But, you can turn the music on if you like,” I reply.

“What would you like ma’am?” he asks politely looking ahead on the road.

“Surprise me. Even the radio would be fine...”

He presses a few buttons on his steering wheel, and the perfectly balanced acoustic system comes on softly.

Christina Perri’s angelic voice echoes around. She’s singing “A Thousand Years.”

Christina Perri - A Thousand Years  

“Is this on the radio?”

“No ma’am,” he shakes his head. “I believe it’s on the iPod,” he responds.

“Whose compilation are we listening?” I ask.

He clears his throat, reluctant to answer. “Yours?” I ask.

“No, ma’am. I generally drive Mr. Pella in this vehicle. I believe it’s his compilation,” he replies. Huh... Alex Pella is a romantic, or is he in love with someone? I feel a sudden jealousy in me. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding.

“Would he be mad at you for driving me in his car?” I ask concerned.

“No ma’am. I had asked whether I should drive you in your vehicle, or the company vehicle.”

“But you just said that this is his vehicle, not the company vehicle,” I state raising my eyebrows.

“Technically the company belongs to him and so does the SUV. What belongs to the company belongs to Mr. Pella. I am used to driving this vehicle. I assure you, ma’am, Mr. Pella won’t object,” he says smiling like he’s privy to a secret that I’m not.

“Do you think he’d be upset at us listening to his music from his iPod?”

“In this case, no, ma’am.” What does that mean? Are there other cases? Other women who are driven in this SUV? Maybe someone he likes... He did say he loved someone. Or, I think he did. What exactly did he say? I’m confused.

“My family members are either dead, or we've lost touch. There are no women I care enough to acquaint you with,” he said. Does that mean he has someone or more than one woman that he sleeps with, but not worth mentioning? Just casual sex? Maybe I can quiz Anthony. Oh shit! How can I ask such a personal thing about my future boss? I clear my throat. Anthony looks at me with a half-smile through his peripheral vision.

“Anthony?” I say softly, quizzically. “Since I’m going to be Mr. Pella’s personal assistant for the next week, is there anything I should know about him? Uhm... I’ve never really held a real job other than volunteering. I don’t want to do a poor job. I don’t exactly know what my job entails, either. It would be nice if I knew a little more about the man I would be working for,” I explain as Miss Perri croons, telling someone not to be afraid, because she’s loved him for a thousand years, and she’d love him for a thousand more. I swallow once I comprehend the lyrics. I remain frozen in my seat. Why does this song make me think of Mr. Pella...Alex?

“Mr. Pella is a very complex individual, ma’am,” he replies. I figured that on my own. Perhaps he didn't work for him long enough to know him better.

“How long have you worked for him?” I ask suddenly, looking at him curiously.

“It’s been a very long time, ma’am. A lifetime it seems,” he says, his voice distancing like he’s lost in his memories. How frustrating! This man is as cryptic as his boss. To my surprise he continues, “I’m the one who worked the longest for Mr. Pella.”

I look at Anthony’s face assessing. He couldn't be over thirty, if thirty at all. He says it feels like a lifetime. If this young guy is the only employee who worked the longest, he couldn't have worked for him more than ten years unless he’s a child prodigy, but even then he would need to be old and mature enough to hold a job.  Then again Alex is about the same age as Anthony. So maybe they were both whiz kids.

“How old is Mr. Pella?” I ask, surprising him. He looks ahead and thinks about it. Why would he have to think about his boss’ age? “Don’t you know?” I inquire.

He gives that half, sort of a sad I-know-something-you-don’t, smile. “Mr. Pella doesn’t celebrate his birthday ma’am, so I shouldn't attempt to guess it. We never bring it up.”

“Surely, his parents or siblings would send a card or something to him. Everyone celebrates their birthday,” I state, probing further.

“Mr. Pella won’t, ma’am. He doesn’t have parents, and he lost his family the night of his birthday.”

My hands fly to my mouth, my heart breaking for him.

“He lost his parents on his birthday?”

“No ma’am. He lost his parents long before. He lost his family, his wife and children on the night of his birthday,” he says in a low voice.

“How?” I ask in a barely audible voice.

Then Christina Perri’s voice echoes clearly through the speakers in the SUV...

“I have died every day waiting for you... Darling don’t be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years... I’ll love you for a thousand more...”

“Fire, ma’am...” he says, and large beads of tears string down my cheeks on their own volition. No sound, no whimper, no noise come out of me. Just my lone tears... I’m confused with my overwhelming reaction to his story. I’ve heard horrific stories when I volunteered to aid the refugees. I was saddened immensely, but I haven’t shed tears. Why now? Why does this story affect me deeply?

“Are you alright, Miss Duncan? I’m sorry; I didn't mean to upset you. It’s not a pleasant story. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have told you.”

“No,” I stutter, “you don’t need to apologize. I don’t know why I’m reacting this way. I’m sorry, I should not have intruded.”

As I try to wipe my tears off rather crudely, Sting’s voice is heard through the speakers singing the “Shape of My Heart.”

Sting – Shape of My Heart  

Grief coats my heart like a starless night, once again. I bury my face in my hands, unable to stop this overwhelming sadness. Anthony is definitely going to tell his boss that he’s hiring a mental case. I can’t help but grieve. Maybe the sorrow I’m feeling is for myself. I raise my head, feeling the tightness in my throat; I look at the road and the traffic with unseeing eyes. This is the first time I really, truly liked someone, and it turns out his heart belongs to someone he lost. If these songs he was listening don’t constitute a testament to that, I don’t know what would?

“How long ago?” I whisper, not caring whether I would be hired or not anymore.

“It’s been a very long time, ma’am. You shouldn't worry yourself about it,” he says effectively closing the topic, and I nod in response.

“Do you like working for him?” I ask to lighten the mood in the vehicle.

“Like...” he says, weighing the word’s connotations, meaning. “No, ma’am. I don’t like Mr. Pella,” he says pronouncing the word as if he’s not used to utilizing it and my mouth drops open and somehow the shock of his declaration stops my tears.

“You don’t like your boss?” I ask completely baffled.

“Like is a very simple, very light word, Miss Duncan. Because when one uses the word ‘like’, it means, enjoyable, agreeable, or satisfactory. I don’t work for Mr. Pella because I enjoy him, or find him agreeable, or satisfactory for that matter, ma’am. At times he isn't agreeable which in return may create disagreements with those of us whom he consults with and we may as a result become unsatisfied. However, I would follow Mr. Pella to any expedition, to the ends of the earth, and accept his leadership unconditionally. Mr. Pella always has the final word; because his intuitions, assessment, judgment, and foresight are unparalleled, and we all know it.”

“Wait a minute... Back up. The most elusive, one of the richest men in the world, a man who owns his entire company--allows you and some others to dispute him?”

“Not some others, Miss Duncan. Just me and one other.”

“Why?”

 “Because he has our loyalty, devotion, allegiance, fealty, respect, esteem and love, ma’am. We would die for him without any qualms or a second though,” he says veraciously and he sounds older and much wiser beyond his years.

“Do you answer everyone’s questions about Mr. Pella?”

“No, ma’am,” he replies with a solemn face. It’s gotten darker outside; the sun is setting.

“Why answer mine then? If you are devoted to him, surely, you shouldn't have answered a total stranger’s questions so candidly,” I observe. He gives me that knowing smile again.

“You’re not a stranger, ma’am,” he starts. Then he tries to continue but as his mouth remains open, no words come out. I blink.

“Anthony, are you alright?” I ask. His eyes bulge, and his hand goes to his throat.

“Oh, God! Are you choking? Pull over, so I can help you!” I shout, trying to remember how to perform a Heimlich maneuver. He shakes his head, no! What? No he’s not choking, or no he doesn’t want help? Is he having an allergic reaction? His eyes are covered with some agony. He’s hurting! I don’t know what to do!

“Are you choking?” Something gurgles in his throat. His right hand is over his throat fighting with something.

“Pull over! I’ll call 911!” I shout anxiously. He shakes his head vehemently. I try to fish my cell phone out of my clutch. Anthony’s eyes are rolling back in his head! We swerve out of our lane.

“Anthony! Pull over! We’ll both get killed! Please!” I beg. He summons all his focus, and presses something on the panel. A discreet button, I barely realize that it’s marked, “HOME”. My hands reach out to the steering wheel to keep it in line.

“Oh my God! What do I need to do?” I utter. Anthony fights against some force to look at me and mouths the words,” Your other vision!”

“What? What the hell does that mean? What other vision?” I look at him bewildered.

“Anthony! The car!” I shout and grab the steering wheel to pull it back into our lane. His right hand grasps my left wrist with all his strength. He points to something on my arm. My birth mark! Digging his nail into it, he scratches my wrist making me cry out. I try to force my wrist out of his grasp. But his thumbnail digs into it, finally breaking skin and making me bleed! I pull it out of his grasp. The man is completely gone out of his mind! My wrist starts burning as if on fire. When we start swerving again, I have no choice but to hold onto the steering wheel still afraid that he’ll scratch me. However, I’ll take that over dying in a car crash any day. Anthony’s head is nearly lulling. Just when his head rolls back I notice something covering his face! Someone is looming over him and reaching down from his throat and through his chest! Reaching into him; trying hard to pull something out of him by force! Anthony seems to be losing the battle.

“What the hell are you?” I shout. And the transparent shape shifts to look at me. The body looks solid, but transparent, the last lights of the day spears through the body of this creature. His hair looks like transparent flames licking his face; reaching down and coiling around Anthony’s neck purposefully, strangling him!

“Get away from him!” I shout. Twin pits of molten lava for eyes stare at me maliciously as it doubles its effort to extract the life out of Anthony. I try to swat it, but my hands only grasp air. I try to push him, but I end up pushing Anthony.

“Daughter of Marcus... If you desire to save this Nephilim, you must surrender your body and soul to me! He has but a few minutes to part with his soul in a hellish agony!”

“Leave him alone! What are you? Who are you?” I ask while quickly try to find a way to help Anthony.

“I’m holding his beating heart in the grasp of my inferno. The soul that gives animation to this body will cease to exist shortly. Your word daughter of Marcus! I need your word!”

“ You've got the wrong person! I’ve no father! Let him go!” He laughs and to my utter surprise rings of fire runs through his body as his tongue comes out of his unbelievably large, unhinged mouth in a large flame and hits Anthony on the face, scorching him!

“Your word promising your body and soul, or his life is extracted agonizingly! If you surrender, I shall make his last minute painless,” his voice sizzles.

Anthony mouths, “run!” Where the hell would I run? If we have a chance, we’d have it together. I look around to grab something to hit this creature of Hades with, and the only thing I have is my clutch. I swing it forcefully and it completely passes through his fiery ethereal body as if it’s a figment of my imagination and I only manage to hit Anthony’s nose!  My attempt only causes him to swerve, and he finally loses control of the vehicle. I hear the loud screeching of the tires, and the SUV tilts to its side. Just as I expect us to roll over, I feel weightless first, then experience double my weight as being lifted into the air. The entire SUV is off the ground! I scream. I think this is it. What goes up must come down! We are both going to die!

“Alex!” I hear out of my lips involuntarily. “Stella, Uncle Gabe, I love you!” I find myself whispering. I hear large wings beating outside with such a turbulent force that it creates the effect of gusts of wind blowing ready to rip this armored SUV into tiny pieces! Maybe we are rolling and my mind is playing tricks on me. Maybe we've already died... The fact that I feel my heart still beating in the vicinity of my throat, my ears and even my fingertips like an orchestra of the loudest percussion and Anthony’s sudden grasp my left arm with a death grip reminds me that we are still alive and in shitload of trouble! The fight is about to go out of Anthony as the ethereal creature is yanking his soul forcefully and I’ve never seen a tortured look on anyone’s face before as the torturer of the underworld doubles his efforts; Anthony’s grip on my arm weakens!

“There is something delicious to be said about a long lived life with a lot of pain and suffering and to relive and suffer though them all over and over again as the soul exits the body. I love giving the experience of loss of love, loss of friends and family, and loss of purpose in life, and the dark abyss to push you in where you cannot find your way out in the seventh circle of hell! Lost! It gives me such pure joy!” he hisses. I can no longer take the misery Anthony is being put through and unbuckle myself and just as I scramble to move into Anthony’s seat to try to save him without knowing how, a blindingly bright face of a blonde woman with a braided crown reaches in from the windshield as if she’s made of light! She is singularly focusing on the ethereally fiery creature. As her hand extends in to grab him, I feel the words echo around the SUV:

“Deo duce, lux caelestis comitante!” Her words do not come out of her lips in a speech, rather as thought patterns forming itself around this creature of Hades who’s been torturing Anthony. I can see and sense the meaning of her words rather than understanding it as a linguistic pattern through my ears: “Led by God, armed with heavenly light!” The feeling is odd as if discovering a new limb I didn't know I possessed. As soon as the words solidify, they weave around him in such a blinding speed; his fiery body is quickly extracted from Anthony’s, both scaring me and giving me immense relief at the same time. The last thing I see withdrawing is his flaming hair from around Anthony’s throat and face. I vaguely hear the Cranberries croon through the sound system “Hold onto my hands, I feel I'm sinking, sinking without you...” in the background. 

Cranberries - When You're Gone

My heart breaks anew. I see everything around me in slow speed, Anthony’s gasping, holding his throat; his eyes wide and looking at me with a face plea or what? Plight! He’s begging me to escape! Are we not out of danger yet? How can I live with myself if I leave him to die even if escaping was even a possibility? He’s still afraid for me. When I see the fiery tendrils still reaching out to Anthony, scorching him, I scream!

“Anthony!”

Why doesn’t he attempt to hurt me? Why only Anthony? Seeing Anthony struggling to push the tendrils away breaks something in me and I scramble over the console dividing our seats, and throw myself over Anthony, shielding his face and body with mine from harm. The tendrils reach out trying to get to him through me, and I feel a cool blue aura grow and surround me like a fragile wall. As the tendrils lick my body in an attempt to harm Anthony, there is a hissing sound like the lava meeting the ocean. I hold Anthony tightly wrapping my arms around him, screaming “No!” Instead of burning, my body is getting cold, and I’m shaking. Where is that woman who bound this creature of Hades?

Then the hissing sound sizzles around me, “abyssus abyssum invocate!” The sound is so strange, yet eerily familiar. I’ve heard what he said before, from this creature. Déjà vu. “Hells call hell!”

“Not on my watch!” hisses a purely angelic, equally forbidding female voice and I feel a strong sucking whoosh; and for a moment everything that is not screwed in the SUV is airborne. I hold onto Anthony as my legs lift off the ground and flail over the steering wheel, and the strong arms of the angelic woman yank the hissing creature with such a force that I imagine the SUV exploding. As I finally feel Anthony’s grip hold me in place, the last sound I hear is his grievous, choked voice calling out “Miss Duncan! Ellie!” and I feel my strength slipping, my eyelids getting heavy; I force myself to stay afloat, coherent, but unable to manage it, I slip into the stygian of my consciousness.

            When darkness consumes me I find myself in the void wrapped in the pale blue aura. I try to make a sound, but nothing comes out. It’s the howling that draws me... nothing but the sound of a wolfish howl; longing, calling, beckoning and sad. I’m helplessly, instinctively drawn to the sound. I’m surrounded by the total eclipse and the howling that’s calling me, urging me forward. A crimson horizon finally emerges resting against the pitch black. Everything is still, and not a sound other than the howling. I can smell the fresh rain on dirt, and finally spot the animal ahead that just stopped howling and its intense gaze is piercing me. I lower myself to the ground and match its stare, following its movements. The air is heavy and thick; nothing stirs. Maybe the night creatures would be going back to their caves and crevices, but nothing stirs. The animal circles me fifteen times, inching its way closer with every loop it makes. It’s not a wolf but a coyote. It’s slowly and warily drawing closer to me.

The sun still doesn’t peak its head over the horizon yet, but the crimson and orange coloring the sky shows the dark silhouette of the scattered saguaro, creosote, and this coyote. I stand abruptly with recognition. I remember this. I know this! The adrenaline sends alarm to every nerve on my body firing my synapses. The coyote stops circling, and as it moves forward towards me, the air shimmers around it. The animal is wrapped in a thick fog transforming and shaping it with each movement, changing it. The crimson and orange of the sky stirs along the coyote, and finally a head and a body peak out from the fog, quickly standing erect. An old creased face with bottomless eyes emerges. One feather hung from the left braid of his hair. The eyes that have seen too many years are marked with numerous deep lines. From his ears dangle what appear to be two earrings too heavy for his ears to carry. His too thin lips are tightly closed. His long nose is slanted and down as it had been broken a long time ago and didn't heal correctly. His Pueblo headband wrapped around the crown of his head twice tied in a tight knot on the left side of his head. He moves towards me agile and graceful. 

           

“You finally summoned me, Elissa, daughter of Marcus, wife of Alexander Aurelius, mother of Agnes and Jill,” he says in a lilting tone.

           

“I did?” I ask confused.

           

“Do you know what you are?” he asks. Yes, a California girl of twenty-one having a nightmare! I scowl inwardly.

            “Do you mean who I am?” I ask in response, confused.

            “I told you who you are. What you are is a Nephilim.”

            “A what?” I ask.

            “You are the child of an Angel and a human woman. A Nephilim,” and there it is. It confirms that I’m crazy.

            “Do you know what a ‘one night stand’ is?” I ask raising my eyebrows. “I’m the product of a one night stand. The woman who mothered me didn't know the man she slept with, and got pregnant on that one single sexual encounter and ta daa, here I am,” I say opening my arms wistfully, finding it odd that I explain myself to this familiar stranger.

            “No!” he says looking back with widening eyes as if he’s being chased by the hell-hounds  He speaks enunciating, and quickly. “That’s how you entered into your last cycle. Those people only lent their bodies as vessels and unfortunately that could not have been avoided. You’re the daughter of Marcus. You don’t have much time here, in this plane. You are found! You must leave your home right away! You have enemies close to you, enemies who have the power to harm you, who can bypass your natural defenses. Remember, you are still mortal!” he says.

            “It’s because I’m a mortal! Everyone is!” I shout, exasperated.

            “Not everyone... Immortals live around you... close to you in fact,” he urges me and I can’t help but look at him with haughty derision because what he says is completely against everything I was taught. He is possibly a figment of my imagination. Immortality would simply be inexplicable.

“You leave me no choice, daughter of Marcus. You question your own mind when you see me morph from a critter of the desert into this old man. If you wish to understand, truly grasp what you are, you must open your mind! You are unique; one of the few left of your kind. What you are makes you both valuable and a target,” he says. “Open your eyes and see!”

            “They’re open!”

            “No...You are looking, but you’re not seeing!” he says, and turns my head, tilting it upward. “Look! Descry and see!” he says and grasping my wrists with his callused hands, he presses his thumbs into my birth marks that Anthony scraped earlier. They come alive under his touch. “Seeds of your memories are burnt into your soul. Let them wake up within you!” he lilts in an old language. The pressure of the pads of his callused thumbs slowly start burning. The intensity of his touch sears me, igniting a fire I didn’t know existed within me, jolting me awake. As he disappears from my vision, I find myself gasping for air; my back arches off the hard ground as I cough hard. A pair of hands gently lay me down again onto the firm ground. My breathing slowly gets back to normal and I wildly blink my eyes, trying open them. My vision is first blurry, and images stir within each other. But slowly everything gets into focus, and clear. There are three sets of concerned eyes peering down at me.

            “She’s back...” the woman with the blonde hair says with the most familiar sound. I must still be dreaming, because this is the woman who reached into the SUV’s windshield without breaking it to yank out the creature of the Hades but she has Stella’s voice.

            “Ellie?” says a soft voice I recognize. It’s my uncle’s voice. I blink several times. The voices are familiar but the two of the faces are different; my reality seems distorted. Did I wake up into a different dimension?

            “Question:” I say while I continue to repeatedly blink my eyes, and finally rub them with the pads of my palms. “Am I still dreaming?”

            The woman smiles, and answers, “No, dear, you’re not.”

            “Stella?” I ask questioning. “Your regimens for youth and pure skin must have worked out well...”

“Why do you say that sweetheart?” she asks in her usual French accent, and I feel relief knowing at least one of my senses is working correctly.  

“Because, you look sensational right now. You are radiating youth and beauty... So is my uncle.” I whisper, and she turns to my uncle with wide eyes.

            “Can you see me as I am?”

            “Yes. Is something wrong with my vision?” I ask concerned.

            “No. Do you know what you are?”

            “Oddly everyone’s asking this question. I would have said a 21 year old California girl, but apparently the correct answer is a Nephilim. Am I crazy?”

            “No, darling, you’re not crazy. We've been waiting for you to discover what you are for such a long time,” Stella says with evident relief in her tone. All three of them let out a breath they've been holding, and I just realized that Anthony hasn't said anything.

            “Are you like me too, Anthony?” I ask.

            “Yes, ma’am. Though you’re much more valuable than I. I’m not a first generation.”

            “How about...” I clear my throat. “How about Mr. Pella...Is he like us?” I ask in a barely audible voice.

            “He most definitely is, ma’am,” he replies. I don’t miss the look the three of them exchange.

            “Are there many of us?” I ask trying to sit up finding the task hard.

            “Quite a few, but still not as many as there used to be, ma’am.”

My uncle’s uneasy voice comes ringing. “Let’s get moving. Ellie, we need to move you someplace else. It’s not safe here anymore.”

            “I am moving already. I have a new job!”

            “Miss Duncan,” emphasizes Anthony, “is going to be working for my boss, Mr. Alex Pella as his personal assistant. I have come with her to drive her back to Los Angeles after she packs her belongings for the week.” This bit of information renders both my Uncle Gabe and Stella silent.

            “Come again?” asks my uncle as Stella looks with her mouth agape for the first time.

            “I didn’t have time to inform you. It just happened so fast. I have a new job as a personal assistant for Mr. Pella... his boss,” I say jacking my thumb towards Anthony who is helping me up to get on my feet. “Can we discuss this at home, I need to be packing.”

            “Do you know what happened here?” Stella asks finally finding her voice.

            “How about if we all drive and talk on the way...” suggests Anthony, and opens the SUV door for me. We pile in.

            “Where is your car?” I ask my uncle.

            “It’s not important right now. We have a few things to discuss. It appears that you've gotten a job today and moving the same day you've got this job and we don’t know where,” he says. “I don’t think this is a wise decision Ellie. Do you know what just happened here?”

            “I passed out which seems to be happening often lately. I promise to see a doctor after I get back from this this work week,” I say.

            “No... I mean, yes, you passed out, but you didn't pass out because you’re ill. You passed out because you’re regaining memories of your own self as a Nephilim. Your body is just learning to adjust,” Uncle Gabe replies. I look at him sheepishly. The confirmation of my experience somehow makes me uneasy. I turn my head to Anthony to confirm that I’m hearing everything correctly:

            “Anthony, I’m not being driven to a mental health facility, am I?” I ask.

            “I can assure you that you’re quite sane Miss Duncan. I’m only driving you to your home to pack,” replies Anthony with a serious face.

            “You are a Nephilim... A first generation Nephilim, and your uncle and I are here to protect you,” explains Stella.

            “ You've known it all along, but you haven’t told me? You knew I thought I was going crazy! I allowed Sarah to take me to her shrink! He made me think I’m insane! Why wouldn't you tell me?”

            “Baby, even gaining your abilities and memories one step at a time is taking a huge toll on your body. Look at it! You've been passing out every time. If we were to flood you with that information, it would kill you; you’re too valuable to take that chance, baby! It has to occur on its own.”

            “So, you can’t fill in the blanks for me?”

            “I’m sorry, darling. Not without irreversibly harming you. You must trust your own instincts, and trust that we have always watched out for you,” says my uncle in a soft but grim voice. The SUV comes to a halt before the wrought iron gates of my uncle’s house. The double gates glide back and Anthony drives forward.

            “Is... Sarah a Nephilim?” I ask reluctantly.

            “Not one bit! She’s dull as ditch-water  and possibly knew that you were special all along and...” continues Stella with relief in her voice but my uncle reprimands her.

“Stella!” with a stern voice and a forbidding look.

            “How about you?” I ask to change the topic from Sarah.

            “We are...” Stella says her sentence hanging in the air looking at my Uncle to complete the rest since he scolded her. “...Watchers,” he finishes as Anthony parks the SUV in front of the house.

            I test the word, “Watchers? What exactly is a Watcher?” I ask. Is this a piece of information they need to hide from Anthony?

            “Grigori,” Stella responds.

            “Okay, I’ve no clue what that is...” I toss my hands in the air, exasperated.

            “You know I’m not related to your mother, to Sarah, I mean. I was adopted by her parents,” Uncle Gabe says and opens the door to the SUV. I follow him out of the vehicle. Then he turns to me and holds my arms over my elbows firmly and looks into my eyes grimly.

            “Listen to me Ellie. You are in danger. In mortal danger!” he enunciates each word clearly so I have no doubt in the sense of his speech. “This is not to be taken lightly. So many are after you! We need to take you to a safe place until we can determine what can be done. Our home is no longer safe, although it may provide a limited amount of protection. Now they've known that you've come of age, they’ll find you!”

            “You’re telling me this now? Who is looking for me? Who will find me?”

            “The Fallen Angels, the bounty hunters, the Darklings... Anyone who wants a piece of heaven, anyone who can profit from it will come after you!”

            “Why would they want me? I’ve got nothing. Less than nothing...”

            “You have your soul. A priceless soul, a soul that can be a key to heaven. That’s not just nothing! There are people who are their minions, people who would sell their souls for a package of cigarette. Do you know the extents they would go if they knew how valuable you are?” my uncle replies sternly.

            “I don’t want to be running! I’ve got a job. A great job! I’m moving tonight!” I reply.

            “They tried to take you not more than half an hour ago, Ellie!” my uncle scolds me angrily.

            “And somehow I manage to thwart it, him, her, whatever it was!” I respond with equal fervor.

            “It was only Phlegethon! Its powers are limited on the surface of the earth, yet strong enough to nearly rip Anthony’s soul! It’s only a minion of one your enemies!” my uncle says harshly. I reach to open the front door of the house. My uncle’s hand reaches to hold it in place. 

            “Do you know Anthony? Is my job something you all cooked up?” I ask disappointed.

            “I’ve only met him when we came to rescue you. But I know what he is. There aren't many of your kind. Ellie, please, I’m begging you. Don’t go! We need to protect you!”

            “I can assure you sir, Miss Duncan will be well protected!” interjects Anthony. My uncle turns his head to Anthony as if he’s just recognizing his presence.

            “Like you just managed to protect her? What if we didn't get there on time?” he says menacingly making Anthony wince.

            “It’s my choice! My life!”

            “Your life is NOT your own!” my uncle bellows to me and my hand falls back from the door. It would have been better if he just hit me.

            “I’ve always lived my life how everyone in this house told me to live. I went to the schools you've chosen. I’ve made friends with people you deemed worthy. I went to the shrinks Sarah made me to go to even though she hasn't mothered me one single day, not to mention made me guilty for existing! The only person who didn't make me feel I’m a burden is Stella, and she’s the nanny. So, I’m asking you then uncle, whose life is it I’m living?” I whisper.

            “It’s all yours, baby!” Stella says, her gaze shooting daggers at my uncle. “Let’s get you packing.”

            “Stella! I have an oath! You have an oath! She needs to be protected!”

            “I intend to keep my oath! Let her live, Gabriel! Let her have a shot at life!” spews Stella as she pushes me into the house.

            “I have a duty! We both do!” says my uncle, and Stella turns on her heels to speak to my uncle and orders Anthony:

            “Don’t just stand there Anthony, guard her door while I have a word with Gabriel,” she says, and Anthony follows me upstairs. I take the winding stairs two at a time, anxious to get out of the house. I quickly make a mental inventory of the items I want to take with me: two suitcases should be enough. When I reach my door, Anthony halts, “I’ll wait for you here ma’am, to give you privacy,” he says and I nod as I close my door. I must have left the balcony door open; my room feels chilly, but I don’t care. I go to my closet immediately, and bring down the suitcases I take to trips. I quickly collect the clothes I want to wear, and fold them as I place them into the suitcases. I should take a quick shower. My black dress is dusty having been laid on the ground. I quickly make my way into the bathroom and turn the shower on hot. I choose my clothes to wear, and prepare my cosmetics and personal items bag. When the steam starts covering the shower walls, I divest my dress and my undergarments and quickly walk into the shower. I want to clean and get out quickly but hot water relaxes my muscles, and gets rid of the ache I didn't know I had. I finally take my time under the hot water.

            When I finish washing my hair and body, I walk out of the shower, and wrap a bath towel around my body, and another like a turban on my hair. After drying myself, I quickly put on my black lacy bra and boy shorts. I put on my hip hugger jeans and dressy black sleeveless blouse. My hair goes into a ponytail, and I finally put my socks and sneakers on. Taking my cosmetics bag, I make my way into my bedroom, and halt in my track. Sarah is standing in the middle of the room waiting for me. Why would Anthony let her in? Or was she in my room all along, hiding in the balcony perhaps? Seeing her looking at me unblinking falters my step.

            “Going somewhere?” she asks nonchalantly.

            “Yes. I got a job. I’m moving,” I reply as I move forward to my bed to place the last item, and zip the suitcases up. I check my watch. I’ve been in my room for thirty-seven minutes!

            “I see... Do you think it’s wise for you to leave...” she says nonchalantly pursing her lips, “without completing your therapy with Dr. Newman?” she asks arching her perfectly plucked eyebrows.

            “I don’t like him, and he sure as hell doesn’t like me. It’s best I don’t use his services,” I reply looking at her pointedly. I hear muffled noises down below. I walk towards the door to see what’s going on.

            “Hold it!” Sarah shouts loudly fury emanating from her body, her eyes look glazed.

            “I’ve had a long day, Sarah. Can we discuss this some other time?” I ask placating her.

            She takes a step forward towards me freezing me in place with her gaze. “Do you think this chance will occur again?” she says with a mocking smile.

            “ You've been a disturbed, abnormal, freakish girl since birth!” she states as if she’s explaining a simple fact to a dimwit. “Do you know what you did when you were born?” she asks me rhetorically. Without waiting for my answer she continues as she slowly steps towards me. “They may think I don’t remember it, because they put me to sleep. But I woke up, I was coherent enough. I saw it all!” she says in a gravely guttural voice. “They cleaned you up and tried to give you to me when they saw me semi coherent, and you shrieked like I was the devil! But the second that bitch nanny of yours walked in to the room, you beamed at her! You, a newborn baby extended your arms to her! I saw it! You held onto her! And when she held you tightly like you belonged to her, you spoke! What kind of a baby speaks? Only an abnormal one!” she spews.

            “I spoke?” I ask unbelieving. “Pray tell, mother,” I say sarcastically, “what would a newborn say? I know that you hate me, but I can’t believe your hatred extends to make up shit like this!” I shout back at her.

            “You said one word... one and only word, ‘Alexander’. I never put two and two together until your freakish dreams started. You are an abomination! You don’t belong, and I know just how to make my mistake right!” she says and moves behind me, puts me in a choke-hold and points a strange knife to my throat.

            “What are you doing?” I shout.

            “Waiting for you to be collected! Don’t you dare to move, or I swear to God I’ll cut you open like a sacrificial lamb!” she bellows as her right arm holds me tighter and the tip of the knife digs right into my jugular. I can feel Sarah’s breath on my neck. I try to struggle, and she leans into my ear and whispers, “If you wish to be careless with your life by attempting to escape me, please do, it will only make me happier and I will not hesitate to send you back to hell where you came from!”

My eyes slowly travel over her arm wrapped around my neck and when I gaze down at the knife, I vaguely realize that it’s a small, dull shade of silver glaive with carvings on it.  Where did she get this? I feel her shuffle behind me, and she moves her left arm pressing something. Tears prick behind my eyes. This is the woman who gave birth to me! My heart shatters more. How can one’s own mother hate her child? I tremble in her grasp, not of fear of dying but the hatred of her every word steals my strength, making me feel worthless. My silent tears betray me and stream down in a steady flow through my cheeks onto her arm.

            “Is this your way of begging for my mercy? Am I to be merciful to an abomination?” she mocks me. I say nothing in response and try to shut off my feelings. I have to get away from her. The noises outside grow, and Sarah shuffles behind me once more.

            “I can’t fucking believe it! Three men can’t do the job one single woman can accomplish!” she bellows, and presses something on her phone I think. Is she reading a text message while she’s holding me hostage? I struggle finding an opening, but she kicks me on my shin, and a sharp pain travels through my lower leg.

            “9-1-1 operator, what’s the exact location of your emergency?” I hear the voice over the phone. I’m momentarily surprised to hear that she’s calling 911.

             “Please, help us! My daughter and I are at the Duncan Estate. This is Sarah Duncan! We’re in danger!” Sarah shrieks. What the hell is she trying to do? Kill me and blame it on someone else?

            “What kind of danger ma’am?” the operator responds.

            “Help! Please! It’s her! My mo...” I shout, but I can’t say the rest of my words as Sarah hangs up the phone and digs the glaive into my throat a little more.

            “Thank you for that!” she says, and I feel her grin behind me. “That will give the scent of your blood to the sharks... Now, we wait!” she says, and as if on cue the door to my bedroom bursts open. Alex Pella stands by the door like a Greek god! My eyes are wide at first, and I blink several times to see if he’s really here, or if I’m dreaming again. My breath catches, my lips quiver and I swallow hard. I open my eyes wide afraid that he’d disappear if I closed them. The glaive pushes in further into my jugular with just enough pressure that if she presses only a millimeter more, she’ll draw blood. Alex’s eyes quickly assess the situation. He’s surprised to find Sarah with a blade to my throat, but like a man in charge, he quickly collects himself; his eyes give me a once-over rapidly within less than three seconds, and he focuses the intensity of his sharp blue gaze on Sarah. If he feels any relief to see me alive and in one piece, he gives no indication of his thoughts. He looks like he’s in complete control of his movements, emotions, and words.

            “Don’t. Come. Any. Closer! I will thrust this into her throat and it will kill her easily!” Sarah says without any emotion.

            “You would do that to your daughter?” asks Alex with an impassive face taking a step further.

            “She was just a biological child, not my daughter! I never wanted to have her! She took everything...” Sarah continues but her words are lost to me. Her lack of love, the declaration of her repulsion of me before this one man I’m exhaustively attracted to, liked even, hurts the most as if she’s giving a testimonial to show him that I’m not worth loving. Whether Sarah cuts me open right now or the ground swallows me whole wouldn't make a difference. My throat swells as I try to swallow a huge boulder, choking me. Alex’s response to Sarah brings me back to my senses.

            “The flaw in that argument is that Abraham was serving his God. Who are you serving, Sarah?” he asks and takes another step forward. How does he know her name? Do they know each other? He doesn’t look at me. His gaze is only fixed on Sarah as if I’m not even in the room. This is worse. Does he agree with her?

            “Myself! I will reclaim my youth, my former beauty, and immortality. They promised!” Sarah says so sure of herself. “Once she’s out of the way, I can have everything that was rightfully mine!”

            “I don’t want anything... You can have it all,” I whisper. I’m dying inside. She never gave me anything to begin with, how could she claim that I took it all from her?

            “Don’t speak at all!” Sarah shrieks and with the intensity of her hatred she pushes the last millimeter into my throat and draws blood. I feel the bead of warm blood collecting at the tip of her glaive. Alex’s gaze widens for a fraction of a second, and he looks at me, then he immediately looks up at Sarah again, holding his hands up to show her that he’s not dangerous. Two more steps, and Sarah exerts a little more pressure onto the glaive, and my blood starts streaming down lazily over my throat in a warm streak.

            “Don’t come any closer,” Sarah speaks in a sweet tone like she’s talking about a pleasant day in the sun.

            “If you kill her, Sarah, they will kill you. They need her alive,” Alex says. I just realize that he’s negotiating with Sarah for my life. He wants to save me! What does everyone else know that I don’t?

“No! They still need me. I’m the one who can touch her and kill her while they can’t even touch her like she’s the holy water to devil!” she says laughing in a shrill. “They can’t even touch her! Yes, sir, they need me!” Sarah says in a strange tone. “They said she’s an abomination... I knew that all along! She is! I was right!” Sarah hisses. Hearing the abhorrence out of the woman who gave birth to me in front of the only man I truly liked and desired, the man who is going to be my future boss crushes my soul and I shake like a leaf, barely able to stand up. A few things happen simultaneously in that moment. I see a blur dart into my room with blinding speed creating a flurry of wind and within less than two seconds of time Alex closes the gap between us and captures the glaive out of Sarah hand while pulling me out of her grasp and hiding me behind him, shielding me with his body.

I hold onto to Alex with all my strength, and as adrenaline wears off my body, my legs weaken. Everything feels to be rattling and shaking. I finally realize that it’s my body that’s doing the shaking. My breathing speeds up with anxiety; I can’t get enough air into my lungs and I feel sick for being in the same room with Sarah. Alex’s arm wraps me  firmly, holding me tight, shielding my body: his stance is defensive, vigilant, and ready to strike. I vaguely realize that Stella is holding Sarah down. I hold onto Alex as if my life depends on it and sag into his embrace. Stella’s voice brings me to here and now.

“Take Ellie away, and protect my girl, Alex,” she says and my gaze finally locates Stella. I’m astounded, my breathing’s shallow, I look at the only woman who cared for me. Her gentle tone is my undoing; I feel the tears welling up behind my eyes. Can Sarah harm Stella? I need to know. I’m worried about her, but I can’t form a single sentence without breaking down. I didn't expect my last night in the house I grew up to be like this.

“Go on dear! Go out into the world and live your life! I’ll be there when you need me!” Stella whispers in a soft voice. I vaguely notice the pitch darkness through my open balcony door behind her as the sheer curtain billows with the soft wind. I imperceptibly notice that it’s a starless night. My arms hold Alex tighter. At this moment he’s my life raft. Where do I go from here? Where do I belong? Sarah looks at me with a malicious grin, taking pleasure in my sorrow. Alex pulls me out of the room gently but insistently, and the first coherent words I manage to get out of my mouth are, “my bags,” in between my sobs. My body shakes uncontrollably, and a dam is broken behind my eyes. I’ve no place to call home now. I’m officially homeless.

“Anthony will get them,” Alex says softly. His gentle words give me comfort. When I look up into his eyes to thank him, he has more than worry and care in them. He looks at me with desire and some unspoken feelings. “Thank you, Mr. Pella...” I stutter and rub the tears away wildly with my knuckles.

“Shhh...” he coos, and holds my hands gently. He kisses my knuckles one by one tenderly, softly and sensually. Then he turns my palms over and kiss them while his gaze is fixed on my eyes. When he finally puts them down slowly to my sides, he takes over the task of drying my tears gently, making me completely forget what just happened in my bedroom.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here, now,” he says in a gentle whisper, his voice full of some tender emotion. His commanding frame radiates incandescence, ardor, yearning and love. Is it because we’re the same kind? But at this moment, I don’t care, I’m captivated and protected within the corporeal force field he’s just created between us. I only see his chiseled face and his piercing blue eyes looking at me assessing, laced with some deep emotion. I inhale his intoxicating masculine musk, a concoction of outdoors, a mix of clove, moss, spice and patchouli which is heady, manly, dominating and yet so urbane. The attraction I feel for him is immeasurable, uncontrollable and intense even in the face of danger that lies only fifteen feet away. But it can’t be helped because the feeling I have for Alex has no off switch. I’m helpless against his magnetism; I find myself putting my head on his chest, and somehow I feel at home as I wrap my arms around his firm torso feeling his tight muscles beneath my arms. The sense of Déjà vu, the feeling of belonging within the captivity of his embrace washes over me.

“You saved me, Mr. Pella...again...” I murmur to thank him. But finally, the realization dawns on me that the man I’m holding in a light-tight embrace like a lover is my future boss. I feel so chagrined, I turn crimson like the communist manifesto and slowly start withdrawing my arms, and murmur an apology under my breath as I try to gather the courage to look at his face. Alex cocks his eyebrows at me as he places my arms back on his waist firmly. He doesn’t like me calling him Mr. Pella and he wants me to hold him. My insides melt.

“Alex,” I correct myself softly as my heart picks up speed, my throat dries up, and all I want to do is to kiss him like there’s no tomorrow. I’m drawn to him with such an intensity that Daedalus and Icarus had nothing over me; I want to merge myself with him. Everything around me ceases to exist, except for him. I look at him with my lips slightly parted, my heart at my throat trying burst out of my body, my blood sings for this man and at this moment I wouldn't care if he took me here and now. I see my ardor reflected in his eyes. His gaze is connected with mine searching the confirmation of my passion, feelings and of my desire for him.

“I’m going to do something I wanted to do since I’ve first laid eyes on you!” he murmurs in a husky, licentious voice as his finger splay on the small of my back urging me forward against his front where I feel his arousal thick against my waist. The knowledge that he wants me as much as I want him is intoxicating, life affirming!

“What?” I ask swallowing, trying to disguise my panting, begging him with my eyes to kiss me. He groans as he lowers himself, picking me up, and presses me firmly into his body making me feel every inch of his hard erection, letting me know just how much he wants me, too.

“This...” he says as he leans his head to close the last two inches of distance between us wrapping me with him as my entire body strains into him. His arms lift me up further as I wrap my legs around his torso, pushing myself into his erection and his lips find mine sealing over. Damn! I want him!