any more Nephilim would be found, but he guessed there was always a chance, however slim that might be.
He looked at Lorelei and smiled. “There’s no harm in trying,” he said, even though he knew that anytime Archon magick was called upon, it took its toll on her.
She smiled sadly. “I keep hoping,” she said. “Even though deep down I know that we’re the only ones left.”
They sat in silence then, only Gabriel’s heavy breathing filling the air. The Labrador had fallen sound asleep on the floor, the tiny mouse nestled in the fur of his throat, both exhausted by their playful antics.
If only the world could be as peaceful.
“What if we’re not strong enough?” Lorelei finally asked.
Lucifer looked at her, not sure how to respond. It was a good question, and one that made him fear for the future.
For even though the Powers were gone, other supernatural threats intensified almost daily, and Lucifer could not help but remember the words spoken to him so very long ago, by a dark-haired child, in the ruins of a temple erected for the worship of some ancient god, long forgotten.
A N U NNAMED I SLAND IN THE A EGEAN S EA , B EFORE THE S INKING OF A TLANTIS
The Morningstar reveled in the silence and the cold dampness of the ancient temple. How long it had been abandoned, what god had been prayed to and sacrificed to here, were mysteries that did not concern him. He had had his fill of gods.
The fallen angel preferred these once-holy places, built to the glory of some heathen deity, the resonance of past worship acting as a kind of buffer, preventing the Powers angels that hunted him from picking up his scent.
He, as with all his fallen brethren, was drawn to the abandoned,the forgotten, finding in those haunted places the refuge that often escaped them.
Lucifer walked the hall of the sanctuary, pondering when last it had seen worshippers. At what appeared to be an altar, the Son of the Morning stopped to study a statue of the temple’s lord and master. It was a loathsome sight, its body misshapen and its head adorned with multiple tentacles.
Who … or what … could worship such a thing?
Lucifer wondered as he looked upon it.
“His worshippers called him name N’Ken-Thaa,” came a voice from somewhere behind him.
The Morningstar whirled, wings of oily black spread wide in a defensive posture.
“Show yourself,” the angel demanded, golden-flecked eyes studying the darkness but finding nothing.
Then a patch of shadow seemed to move as a small shape broke off and advanced toward him. It was a small human child, but something told the Morningstar that looks were deceiving.
“But I doubt that was his name,” the child said cheerily. “Or whether or not it could be pronounced by human lips even if they knew it.”
The child was barefoot and dressed in simple robes as he approached the altar.
“He was a silly sort,” the child continued, staring at the monstrous statue. “Filled with delusions of grandeur.”
Lucifer studied the child, or whatever it was. He sensed something unnatural here, and a large sword of fire grew from his hand.
“He was so sad when they stopped worshipping him, stopped believing in him,” the child said, shaking his head in sympathy. “He actually thought this world would one day belong to him.” He turned his inky-black eyes toward the angel. “Isn’t that silly?”
“What are you?” Lucifer demanded angrily.
“Who, me?” the child asked innocently. “I’m nobody now, but someday …”
For a brief instant Lucifer saw the child for what he was, and it filled the Son of the Morning with revulsion—and fear.
The angel lashed out with his sword of fire. There was an explosion of searing flame as the sword hit the floor where the child had been standing, its force cracking the marble.
“I’m over here,” the child’s voice rang out playfully, and Lucifer spun to see the little boy strolling from the darkness between two pillars, completely
He looked at Lorelei and smiled. “There’s no harm in trying,” he said, even though he knew that anytime Archon magick was called upon, it took its toll on her.
She smiled sadly. “I keep hoping,” she said. “Even though deep down I know that we’re the only ones left.”
They sat in silence then, only Gabriel’s heavy breathing filling the air. The Labrador had fallen sound asleep on the floor, the tiny mouse nestled in the fur of his throat, both exhausted by their playful antics.
If only the world could be as peaceful.
“What if we’re not strong enough?” Lorelei finally asked.
Lucifer looked at her, not sure how to respond. It was a good question, and one that made him fear for the future.
For even though the Powers were gone, other supernatural threats intensified almost daily, and Lucifer could not help but remember the words spoken to him so very long ago, by a dark-haired child, in the ruins of a temple erected for the worship of some ancient god, long forgotten.
A N U NNAMED I SLAND IN THE A EGEAN S EA , B EFORE THE S INKING OF A TLANTIS
The Morningstar reveled in the silence and the cold dampness of the ancient temple. How long it had been abandoned, what god had been prayed to and sacrificed to here, were mysteries that did not concern him. He had had his fill of gods.
The fallen angel preferred these once-holy places, built to the glory of some heathen deity, the resonance of past worship acting as a kind of buffer, preventing the Powers angels that hunted him from picking up his scent.
He, as with all his fallen brethren, was drawn to the abandoned,the forgotten, finding in those haunted places the refuge that often escaped them.
Lucifer walked the hall of the sanctuary, pondering when last it had seen worshippers. At what appeared to be an altar, the Son of the Morning stopped to study a statue of the temple’s lord and master. It was a loathsome sight, its body misshapen and its head adorned with multiple tentacles.
Who … or what … could worship such a thing?
Lucifer wondered as he looked upon it.
“His worshippers called him name N’Ken-Thaa,” came a voice from somewhere behind him.
The Morningstar whirled, wings of oily black spread wide in a defensive posture.
“Show yourself,” the angel demanded, golden-flecked eyes studying the darkness but finding nothing.
Then a patch of shadow seemed to move as a small shape broke off and advanced toward him. It was a small human child, but something told the Morningstar that looks were deceiving.
“But I doubt that was his name,” the child said cheerily. “Or whether or not it could be pronounced by human lips even if they knew it.”
The child was barefoot and dressed in simple robes as he approached the altar.
“He was a silly sort,” the child continued, staring at the monstrous statue. “Filled with delusions of grandeur.”
Lucifer studied the child, or whatever it was. He sensed something unnatural here, and a large sword of fire grew from his hand.
“He was so sad when they stopped worshipping him, stopped believing in him,” the child said, shaking his head in sympathy. “He actually thought this world would one day belong to him.” He turned his inky-black eyes toward the angel. “Isn’t that silly?”
“What are you?” Lucifer demanded angrily.
“Who, me?” the child asked innocently. “I’m nobody now, but someday …”
For a brief instant Lucifer saw the child for what he was, and it filled the Son of the Morning with revulsion—and fear.
The angel lashed out with his sword of fire. There was an explosion of searing flame as the sword hit the floor where the child had been standing, its force cracking the marble.
“I’m over here,” the child’s voice rang out playfully, and Lucifer spun to see the little boy strolling from the darkness between two pillars, completely
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