The Nephilim by Greg Curtis

same every day. Some men from the Treasury visited the school every day. They were escorted directly to the principal's office before being sent away an hour later. And for that hour everyone would have to be on their best behaviour. The first day they had been visited by the three agents who had cornered her in the diner. After that it had been other agents with lawyers as they grew more determined. And all of them were here because of her. She knew it. Everyone else knew it. She had brought agents to the school and risked exposing them all.
     
    But at least the Academy seemed to be prepared for it. The agents left each day, without ever seeing her. That was good, though it would have been better if they'd never come at all. But she so wanted to know what was said in those meetings! Unfortunately  the principal – Ms. Iron Britches as she thought of her – never discussed the matter with her.
     
    “What did you do?”
     
    Mark was staring at her as if she was a whole new type of freak. A freak among freaks. And that among freaks who still thought they were the children of angels. “That's four visits in four days. Did you kill someone?”
     
    “No!”
     
    How could he think that? And yet even as she wondered, she knew exactly how he could think such a thing. Agents coming to see her every day – that had to be serious.
     
    There was no doubt that the agents were determined to catch her grandfather any way they could. But at least they didn't know that Armando was her grandfather, and she wasn't going to tell anyone. Especially not after what the fed had said about him. He was wrong of course, she didn't know if he had been lying or simply fed a bunch of lies, but she knew that what he'd said had been crap. Armando had no other children. That was why he'd been so eager to find her. And it had nothing to do with her gift despite his claims. He could never have known about it when he first found her. And he would have come a lot sooner if he could have. If it weren’t for the government hunting him.
     
    “Then what?”
     
    “I know someone and they want him.”
     
    “Who? Did he kill someone?”
     
    “No!” What was it Mark had with all this killing? “He's just a thief.”
     
    And yet one of the things that the muscle bound oaf had said about Armando was that he had killed people. She didn't believe him of course. You couldn't believe anyone who took as many steroids as he obviously did. But she couldn't quite disbelieve him either. She had seen her grandfather's temper a couple of times.
     
    “They don't send government agents after thieves.”
     
    “He's a very successful thief,” Katz told him with a show of pride. She was proud of her grandfather! He was simply so clever. Always two or three steps ahead of the people hunting him.
     
    And yet even as she defended her grandfather she knew that Mark was right about one thing. They  really did want him and they wouldn’t usually have that much interest in a thief. But she also knew that it had nothing to do with his crimes. They were just an excuse. It was what he knew and who he could bring down that made him so dangerous.
     
    Her grandfather was an agent – or he had been. He had been involved in covering up all sorts of government crimes, and for his patriotism he had been accused of treason and threatened with a lifetime behind bars. Since he'd escaped of course, that sentence had been unofficially commuted to execution and there were shoot on sight orders out for him. But she could never tell Mark that. Nor could she tell him that if her grandfather was caught he would never stand trial. He would never even see a lawyer. He would be killed long before that happened. No one would believe that.
     
    So he lived off grid as he called it. Running a lot. Hiding by constantly moving and using disguises and false names. Never letting himself be seen on a street camera. Never using a credit card or a bank account. Always paying for everything in