CHAPTER 6 #2
Eww. He just spat on the floor.
“Hey!” The exclamation hurts my head, so I lower my voice.
“That’s revolting. Plus, you’re taking way too seriously something that happened thousands of years ago, dude.
” I don’t even care that I’m using the word “dude.” I’m on a ton of drugs, but I need more drugs.
Fast. I’ve never taken more than an aspirin, but this pain feels like I’m lying in the flames again, only each second lasts an eternity.
“And you’re not taking it seriously enough.” Another smack to the chair arm. More bed trembling.
Right. I’m not sure who let this guy into the hospital, but I really wish they’d come find him and drag him off again. “Xy—Mr. Tull—seriously, I don’t know what this is about, but I’m not up for it. Let’s table whatever this is for another time, because the pain…”
“Wuss.”
Anger washes through me, enough to make me swear at him. “Jerk.”
“Better a jerk than a wuss, kid.”
I have to swallow the words that are bursting against my lips. All I allow myself to say is, “I really hope the nurse is wrong, because I don’t want to be related to someone who’ll kick a man when he’s down.”
“Related?” He makes a rough sound before pushing out of his chair to his feet.
Pacing towards the exit, I expect him to leave, but he just turns and strides the width of the room again.
“This doesn’t make a lick of sense, and I can’t read you to know if you’re playing some game, or…
well. You should have told me who you are by now. I’ve given you the code.”
“What code? I don’t know anything about your stupid code.” Another deep breath wracks my lungs into a fit of coughing. He makes no move to help me. I grab for the plastic cup of water on the tray next to the bed, and manage to spill more on me than in my mouth.
“There’s only one thing that logics,” he says, once my fit has passed. “If you don’t know the codes, and you don’t know about the Nazirites and that you’re named for one of the worst of them, then you don’t know who you are.”
Bingo. Could have told him that from the beginning.
Before I can enlighten him, he says, “Those fucking Nazirites aren’t gone, just gone to ground.
Hidden. Assuming you don’t know about them, for whatever reason, let me do you a favor.
They’re a fighting force par excellence, dedicated to God, called up to help Israel overcome its enemies—and those were legion, then as now.
You stay out of their way, and if you see one, run.
There aren’t enough of us now to take them down, more’s the pity.
Not enough of us to prevent you being killed.
We lost the advantage after the Flood, but the fight for freedom continues.
Philistine, Anakim, Rephaim, Emim, Zamzummin…
no, scratch that. The last Zamsummin died six months ago. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
“No.”
“But you should. They’re all Nephilim, so you should know exactly what I mean.
” He straightens, and it seems like he’s searching the floor before his head matches the set of his shoulders again.
“Your namesake. His strength was legendary. He tore apart a lion with his bare hands, set fire to crops using the tails of foxes, and dismantled and carried away the city gates, but in the end, he was only human. Weak. He loved. Love is a human failing, and we used it against him. In the end, we got him..”
“O. Kay.” I don’t know which part of that statement to pick apart first. I settle on his use of the word, we. Does Xy think he’s a Philistine? Do Philistines even exist anymore?
And the way he said human failing…
But I lose that thought when an electric idea sparks through the pain. My heart begins pounding like I’ve been running a mile uphill in MFD gear during the heat of summer. Because weren’t the Philistines gigantically tall men? Like… me? Or Xy, for that matter?
“You’re a Philistine?”
“Me? In part.”
“The Philistines were tall like us?”
He just laughs.
The drugs make it hard to think, but I’m sure Goliath was a giant. He fought for the Philistines, but he might have been hired help rather than part of the tribe. I’ve never paid too much attention to those stories, figuring I’d rather be little David than big, bad Goliath any day of the week.
But if Goliath was a “giant,” and he was a Philistine, and Xy thinks he’s a Philistine, that must mean… am I a Philistine, too? I’ve always thought I must be Scottish, what with my red hair and strong build.
The trouble with being adopted is that every piece of information I learn about myself hits me with equal amounts of rightness and wrongness.
If I knew something solid, anything at all, I’d have a base on which to build.
I’ve thought about doing one of those DNA tests, but I’ve been resistant to putting my personal information out into the world. Maybe now’s the time.
Well, soon. After I’m well again.
Xy slaps his hands on the hard plastic end of my second bed.
“Your namesake was human. Delilah took him down easy. Cut his hair, is all, because humans are weak things. Lesser. Easy to manipulate. I notice you wear your hair on the shortish side. Still too long by my standards, but not long like your namesake. That’s your blood telling you that you don’t want to be associated with that asshole.
Good on you.” He laughs as if this is the funniest thing he’s ever said.
And suddenly, it’s like a lightbulb clicks on inside my head. Here I am, trying to make sense of what Xy is saying, when all the while, I shouldn’t have bothered. It doesn’t matter… because he’s insane.
Wait, am I related to someone certifiable?
Assuming we are related, it’s not as big of a surprise as it should be to find I’m part of a family of madness.
I have my own brand. I don’t know if it’s evil, but it’s lustful, which is its own kind of crazy.
I hunger for sex, and have ever since college.
Constantly. And I’ve got kinks. I might own them all without shame, but I’m aware they’re not quite normal. Not… good.
“You’re assuming the Philistines were tall because some guy named Goliath fought for them, and he was rumored to be a giant.
And you hate Sampson because he took down the Philistine temple.
Pushed down the pillars, right? But what I don’t get is why you care about ancient history at all?
Some guys are tall, Xy. There’s no need to leverage mythology to explain your size.
” I’m trying to be patient with him, but there are sharp daggers of pain radiating down my spine from my neck.
And also? I don’t want to be swept up in whatever crazy he’s spilling.
Because it’s all a little too seductive for an adopted boy who yearns to know something about where he came from.
A displeased growl fills the dark room. “What’s your lineage? Who do I blame for your attitude?”
“Depends if you mean my adoptive or birth parents, I guess.”
“You were adopted?”
I nod. Another pang.
“As a baby?”
“Yeah. I was left at the fire station. And no, I have no idea by whom.”
Several beats of silence drag out before his long whistle fills the room. “So, I was right. You don’t know, which explains a lot, but leaves more questions. The Council didn’t send you, did they?”
And I’m back to annoyance. “Look, if you’re not going to answer any of my questions, you might as well leave. I don’t…”
“Why’d you join the fire department? Because you were left there? Or because of the association with fire?”
“Because the firemen who discovered me on their doorstep took care of me and found me a home. Why would I have an association with fire?”
“That’s the question.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.
“The highest Watcher worked fire magick into his exchange for a bride. You might be naturally drawn to the element if you’re his descendant, though it’s a longshot he’s your ancestor.
Other Fallen also had an affinity for flames.
You’re probably one of their get. Anyway, it gives us a place to start in trying to figure out who you really are.
Meanwhile, you should know that loyalty isn’t appreciated by our Kind, not unless it’s directed at The Council, or, I suppose, the Watchers, not that you’re likely to run into any of them, locked up as they are.
But loyalty to a human agency like a fire department?
Please. That’s just going to get you punished. Understand?”
“Not a word.” Xy might as well be speaking Portuguese, Lithuanian, or Nigerian, all of which I also don’t understand. I’m not comprehending any of what he says, except that he seems to be intimating once again that he’s not human.
And that, by extension, I’m not human.
Clearly nuts. So yeah, he might be related.
Suddenly, he moves. Fast. A large hand slaps down over my heart, covering my chest, shooting pain through my veins. “Don’t you worry, son. I’ll find your line, gifts, and why you were left. We’ll get you straightened out so you can take your rightful place among the Nephilim.”
“I’m already straight,” I gasp, sucking in oxygen.
But the hand is already gone, along with the figure. He slips like a black shadow bent from the ceiling into the hallway beyond, and then disappears completely.
What the heck?
I’m reviewing every piece of information he let drop, which isn’t much, other than some crazy stuff having to do with Philistines, who I’m not sure still exist, and something called Neph… something, when Morpheus starts yanking me into dreamland once more.
Well, in my defense, it’s been quite a day.