Nephilim Rising
Angelic Hosts Series, Book 4, Episode 5, Part 2
The Blood Moon decides…
“The seal has been broken. A new guardian has arisen.” Esteban del Fuego stood, puffing on a cigar as he looked out over downtown San Antonio from his penthouse.
Behind him, a creature sat, humanoid in shape, skin burnt to a crisp with wisps of smoke rising off it in spirals. It lounged casually on the black leather sofa, its empty eye sockets seeming to follow Del Fuego’s movements.
“That means a guardian has passed. That means the key is vulnerable,” it hissed.
“That’s right. And I want you to find out who! I have a narrow opportunity to discover its whereabouts, one small window to find it.” Del Fuego turned, blowing out cigar smoke in rings. He stood five feet, eleven inches, and wore a tailored suit. His dark hair was slicked back with pomade, and his goatee was fastidiously maintained. Appearing to be in his mid-forties, he was handsome to behold, but there was a cruel turn to his full lips, and a dangerous glint in his black eyes.
The creature cracked a sinister smile. “And where shall I begin?”
“Obituaries. Grab the Express News and see who has passed. Look for clues. When you find likely candidates, go to their homes. Find out who their family and friends are. Destroy them all if you must but find the key.”
“Is that all,” the creature hissed, rising.
Del Fuego’s eyes narrowed. “This is no time for your smart Alec comments, Cinder.” He puffed his stogie. “And what of my other business? Has Alejandro moved all the product yet?”
Cinder stretched and her skin crackled like old paper. “He’s due tonight for payment.”
“Good, go see him and remind him I don’t like to wait.”
With a chuckle, the creature raised its arms and whispered ancient words. Its skin began to mend, changing from blackened to bloody red, to creamy white, young and supple. Hair grew, and new eyes filled the dead, empty sockets. Within minutes, the hideous, smoking corpse-like monster turned into a beautiful woman with flaming red hair and glowing green eyes. Cinder looked down at herself, and then, smiling a secretive smile, ran her hands over her nakedness. “I guess I’d better get dressed then,” she paused, throwing a seductive glance at Esteban, “master.”
Del Fuego raked his eyes up and down her body. “Yes,” he licked his lips, “and come to my room tonight when you’ve completed your tasks.”
Cinder grinned and sauntered out of the room.
Esteban returned to the panoramic window looking out onto the city.
“Soon, I will have the key,” he whispered to himself. “Soon, I will rule Hell, and no longer will I be subservient to you, Lucifer.” In the glass, twin flames reflected burning brightly in his eyes. He grinned through the cloud of cigar smoke watching the fiery sun begin its descent into the horizon.
***
Thursday morning dawned bright and sunny. Humidity dampened the air, leaving a sticky layer on Antonio’s skin as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling in his old bedroom. He’d grown up in this room. A Metallica poster was still stuck to the ceiling. The band stared down at him – heavy metal royalty. On the wall behind his headboard were vintage posters of KISS in their heyday and Ozzy’s Bark at the Moon. Each had old concert ticket stubs pinned in the corner. The deep red curtains over the window still didn’t quite close allowing the sun to sneak in and hit him right between the eyes, something that had always annoyed him.
Usually, he awoke early, ready to begin the day, but today, he was afraid to get out of bed. Secrets revealed by his dead father’s letter and more piled on by Hector had plunged him into a nightmare, one from which he couldn’t escape. It all seemed so unbelievable that at first he’d laughed. But the longer Hector spoke, the more evidence he produced—and there’d been a lot as his old uncle showed him ledgers, written accounts that spanned not only his own lifetime, but his father’s—the more he’d begun to believe. And according to Hector, that was just the tip of the iceberg.
“I’m a Watcher. I belong to an ancient organization, the Order of Angels, the In Ordine Angelorum, but it’s so much more. We are the ones who record…everything. We watch, and we keep an accounting of all we see regarding the unfolding of prophesies, activities and actions of demons, supernaturals, and the work of guardians through the ages. I was your father’s watcher, assigned to him after he took you to raise as his own.” Hector concluded his explanation, calmly waiting for Antonio’s reaction.
“Who appointed you? And Why?”
“The Order. They make all decisions. I do not know how they make them, so don’t ask. We don’t question the Order. As to why I was assigned to Eugenio after he adopted you, which I’m sure is your next question, well, I believe it to be connected to the prophesy of the blood supermoon. Your mother, God rest her soul, was attacked and killed by a wolf demon. Your father’s accounting of that night confirms that the creature he saw was no ordinary wolf, but something more. He was a man of great faith, your Pops. He believed everything happens for a reason, including being there the night you came into this world.”
“I was given a copy of the parchment by the Order outlining the prophesy and told to come to San Antonio and watch Eugenio Diaz. It wasn’t until I got to know him that I realized it had to do with you. I never told your father about the prophesy, but after a while, he knew what I was. By then, we’d become friends, and he confided in me. How you came to be his son,” Hector looked off to the left, “is all in this prophesy.” He paused before continuing. “It simply says ‘A legacy of Light, brought to bear by the wolf, will rise on the night of the great blood moon. It is then he must choose, the path of good or the path of evil, as both will war within him for dominion over his soul. If the light succeeds, the prophet will bring peace, but if the light fails, Hell will be released upon Earth.” Hector sipped his coffee, and then locked eyes with Antonio. “Tomorrow night is the great blood moon, ‘Tonio. Tomorrow night, you will fight the greatest battle of your life. The demon wolf that claimed your mother, seeks now to claim you too.”
Fear snaked through him as he recalled his Tio’s words. The old man believed it, and his conviction sent a ripple of dread through him.
Crap. Antonio had never been afraid to face anything, but today, he was terrified to put even one foot on the floor no matter how crazy it all sounded. Normally, he’d talk to Diego when something was bothering him, but his best friend was fighting his own war in Afghanistan. His tour of duty was not yet up. Antonio knew he would be facing this horror show on his own.
Finally, he sat up.
Looking around the room, he spoke out loud, breaking the silence in the house.
“Screw this. I don’t believe it, and even if it’s true, which I refuse to believe, no freaking wolf demon or whatever is going to take my soul. You hear me,” his voice grew louder, shouting now at the ceiling, “you can’t have me! I’m my own person, and you can’t have me!”
With anger surging through his veins and fierce determination driving him, Antonio pushed off the covers and stood. There was work to do, and Marines didn’t cower in fear or shirk their duty.
After a hot shower, Antonio dressed in jeans, and picking up an army-green t-shirt, slung it over his muscular shoulder and went downstairs to make breakfast. On his way through the living room, he glanced at the clock on the mantle. He stopped. On bare feet, he approached the clock, picked it up, and wound it. The small action brought forth so many memories of his Pops standing in the same spot, doing the exact same thing. He didn’t know why it mattered so much, but he didn’t want the clock to wind down. Maybe it was sentiment, but it seemed important that time not stop. The very idea of the silence it would create felt like death. He needed to hear the tick-tock, tick-tock of the old clock. It was the heartbeat of his father’s home, and no matter what, Antonio promised himself he’d keep it beating. But he was still angry.
Why didn’t Pops tell me any of this while he was alive? Why keep the circumstances of my birth a secret?
The grooves in the hand-carved wood caught his attention. Funny how he’d never paid any mind to the artistry of the design before now. In the top center was a depiction of St. Francis of Assisi accompanied, as he is often depicted, by a wolf and a lamb. Surrounding this intricate imagery was a slew of ever widening, intertwining circles. In the center of each circle was a symbol that looked like the letter T. Antonio had no idea what it meant, but he knew now that the clock held great meaning to his father and was probably the only remaining link to his old life in the Franciscan monastery. His dream of becoming a monk had ended the night he came upon Maria Diaz being attacked, or whatever her real name had been.
He set the clock down, listening to the ticking. It comforted him in a way nothing else could in that moment. Antonio closed his eyes, breathing in and out. He inhaled the familiar odors of the house, imagining for a moment that everything was fine, that his father was sitting in his chair, picking up the remote control, about to watch old westerns on television. The scent of something burning tickled his nose, interrupting his thoughts. It was sour, rotten, and growing stronger. Antonio spun around, crouching low just as a blackened figured lunged at him.
Wishing you all a very Happy New Year. Thanks for reading this story and joining me here on my Substack. ~ Michele
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