CHAPTER 19 #2
Appearing disappointed, Xy says, “The Council discovered a way into the chamber where the Watchers are bound. I’d heard rumors, but they played this one close to the vest, and no real information ever surfaced for the rest of us who aren’t high up muckety-mucks.
With reason, I suppose, given we’re all pretty power mad.
If I’d known I could speak with my forebear directly instead of through dreams, I would have begged him for more power.
A little of his angelic blood and… well.
” He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, the entrance is a closely guarded secret, held only by the top echelon of The Council, who are, of course, Samyazza’s descendants. ”
“He was the leader of the Watchers,” Sampson says softly. “Chief asshole. Responsible for the fall of the two-hundred.”
I gape up at him. Whoa. Not only is Sampson swearing—a lot—which is more alarming than amusing, given it’s a sign of how upset he is, but he knows things that I don’t. That means his research has gone deep. And he’s hidden it from me.
“We’re going to have a long conversation about how you spend your hours when we’re not fucking,” I tell him.
He slants his eyes towards me, and looks away.
The first tremors of disquiet unravel inside me. I push them away. It’s only Xy. He’s disrupting everything.
“Samyazza was also the first to be entombed.” Xy punches his leg so hard, the table shakes.
“Damn, but I wish I knew where the entrance lies. The river has been drying up for years, and recently, a narrow fissure was discovered. I’m told that it was enlarged enough for The Council to squeeze a Nephilim female into the cavern.
” Suddenly, he smiles again, and sits back. “That would be your mother, boy.”
I gasp. Sampson says not a word.
“You’re descended from Samyazza himself through her bloodline, so of course, she was given the honor of mating with the Watchers themselves.
Turns out, you probably get your fire power direct from royalty, though it may be that your father is a lowly angel with a similar gift. Can’t say for certain.”
This time, Sampson closes his eyes. His face contorts, his fists clench, but he only takes a few deep breaths before he opens his eyes again.
“Of all the fucking, horrific revelations,” he whispers, before dragging me closer.
He hugs me tight against him before leaning down to kiss the top of my head.
We stay that way for several long seconds before he stiffens again. “Wait. The Watchers—which one?”
“Two-hundred of them down there, and only one of her. It’s possible Samyazza might be your daddy as well as your originator.
No one is sure. That’s what the blood tests are waiting on.
But it’s probably one of the others. As you’d guess, the lot of them were pretty randy after thousands upon thousands of years locked up. ”
Sampson unwinds his arm from around me and covers his eyes. The revelations are coming too fast, and they cut too deep. And I don’t know how to comfort him.
“You’re a real asshole, Xy,” I snap.
“Why? He should be honored. I’m telling him that he’s a First Generation.”
But I’m pretty sure that honor isn’t what Sampson is feeling right now.
Xy isn’t finished. “You’re the only First Generation in existence, son.
Other Neph females have been thrown to the Watchers since your mother was impregnated.
None survived to give birth. There’s a curse or something, I guess.
The Council is very interested in how you managed to grow to adulthood. There’ll be questions.”
Sampson removes his hand and stares across at Xy. “The Watchers killed them? The other women?”
“No. They died in childbirth along with their babes. But you made it. You were meant to be. I think that points to a higher Watcher giving you life, but that’s just my guess.
Strong seed. Powerful magick.” Leaning forward, looking rabid, with shining eyes and spittle forming along his lips, Xy adds, “You can take the throne, son. You could take it anyway, through your grandfather, who leads The Council, but with your father being an actual Watcher… The Council will bow to you. Do you know what that means?”
Sampson’s face caves with disgust. I don’t know if it’s the description of his inception, or the fact that women were given to a horde of disgraced, cursed angels as breeding vessels, or the fact that he himself is an original Nephilim, with less human blood than he thought, but it’s obvious that none of it sits well with him.
I’m not dancing for joy, either. Because…
I can’t finish the thought, not even in the privacy of my own head. It’s too… disturbing, so I push it away. Later, maybe, I’ll think about why something scratches at the back of my brain, but not now.
Besides, I refuse to let it matter that the man I love is a first-generation Nephilim, or that he’s more angel than human.
Fallen angel. Disgraced, evil angel.
I push the thought away again. Nope. Not going there.
“No.” The rough syllable pushes through Sampson’s thinned lips.
“Now, don’t be too hasty.” Xy drones on about facts that don’t matter, but when he gets to the essential part, he pauses. “Your mother, Scilla, is the Premier’s daughter. Good stock, as I said. Samyazza’s get. But something happened after you were born. She went… weird.”
“Maybe getting gang-raped by imprisoned evildoers will do that to a person,” Sampson snaps.
“Maybe. Heard she volunteered and knew what she was getting into, though. Still, the reality might not have matched up to the honor done her.”
Wow. He’s so out of touch, it’s impressive.
“Anyway,” he continues, “whatever happened to her, she got spooked after you were born. Rumor is that she joined up with The Faction, a group of rebel Neph who wish to make peace with The Enemy, which is a fool’s errand.
The Enemy doesn’t make deals. There’s no forgiveness.
We’re dirty souls to everyone in Heaven, twisted, and destined only for Lucifer’s company in the eternal flames, but somehow, those idiot Neph must have convinced Scilla she could be forgiven for her blood.
I’m guessing, judging by your hands and feet, that The Faction were the ones who had you maimed, probably so you’d fit in better with humans.
The bastards. At least they didn’t take your teeth. ”
Sampson breathes deep. A clear war twists his features, but when he leans in and reaches for the other side of my face so as to pull me into him for a kiss on my cheek, he’s gentle.
So gentle. He looks deep into my eyes. “I’m so sorry for getting you involved with all this…
all these capital letter names like The Council and The Faction and The Watchers and Nephilim. But it’s not too late.”
I don’t know where the sudden arctic blast comes from. It sweeps from the unknown to travel like icy fingers tickling up and down my spine. A feeling of dread wells within my belly.
Fine. Maybe it’s his cum still settling, but I don’t think so. Because the look in his eyes says he’s about to destroy me.