If Fallen Angels Could Fly, first chapter for free
Chapter 1: NYC, Present
At first it seemed like a good idea. I didn’t know why, but there was something with that girl in the subway. Maybe her smile. She might be older than the ones I was usually attracted to. Probably in her early thirties, but not looking a year older than 25. Her bright blue eyes were amazingly highlighted by a strong underline of black kohl. Her gaze was wild, as her leather jacket, her black fishnet stockings, and the strips of pale skin revealed just below the line of her tiny skirt.
I usually didn’t take the subway. I preferred walking in the streets. New York has a soul, and with each step my connection to it grew stronger. But that night, I was feeling like going underground, probably because my depressed mood was pushing me to go as far as I could from the skies.
I left the everlasting lights of Times Square, and I didn’t know where I was going. As I got into the nearly deserted car, the first thing I noticed was the group of five teenagers, the gang-type, trying to look mean. I sat down close enough to them, checking if they were in a brawly mood. As I said, I was depressed, and breaking some bones might have improved my spirits. Or not. But these guys had a little bit of common sense after all. They looked into my eyes. And decided they had urgent matters to attend in the next car.
At this instant, I noticed her. She was a few seats ahead. When I looked at her, she beamed at me. I performed a half-smile, the best I could do at the moment. She didn’t seem to mind, and came to sit near me. Enough time for me to ogle her from head to toe. Or was it the other way around? Never mind.
“I’m Kaylee,” she said. “You can call me Sam,” I answered. This time, my smile was a little warmer.
Half an hour later, we were above ground. Don’t ask me where, I lost track of our path a couple blocks after Van Cortlandt Park. I’ve never been that fond of the Bronx to learn its geography. I started feeling more familiar with the surroundings when we headed back to Manhattan, but I didn’t know where we were exactly.
She was leading the way. A bit earlier, she picked a destination: “I know a very cool place, you’ll love it,” she said. I didn’t mind a cool place. I was enjoying her company. And her features. She was short, thin, but not one of these anorexic top model type of thin. She had curves. Her small breasts didn’t need a bra. A good thing, because she didn’t wear one, as I had plenty of opportunities to check. She didn’t seem to object to it.
“And voila!” she said. I looked at her arm. My eyes followed the white skin, the lace glove, the fingers full of rings of all kinds, the index… looking up… The name “Dude’s Pit” was flashing in tired red neons, above a door which would have been suitable for a medieval castle. Or barn. Whatever.
“Dude’s Pit.”…the name rang a bell in the back of my head. A low bell, knell-like. I shook my head as she was dragging me inside. It was one of these dark clubs, with this so obvious vampirish look, men with makeup, girls in lace or latex, or both. Loud music. Rob Zombie. I had nothing against it, so I passed my arm around Kaylee’s waist and we blazed a trail to the bar.
She didn’t need to order her drink. A fat guy who looked like an unnatural offspring of Bela Lugosi and Meat Loaf pushed a glass full of something dark in front of her, and nodded at me in what I interpreted as an interrogative gesture. “I don’t suppose you have any Absinthe?” I inquired. “Roquette 1797 or Teichenne?” he replied, as I had a mental equivalent of a dropping jaw. “Roquette,” I answered, noticing the wide grin in Kaylee’s face. She had noticed that the bartender took me off-guard. That woman was the observant type. Full of surprises, definitely. “Bela Loaf” was back with two glasses and a spoon with a piece of sugar on it. Despite his obvious weight, the guy was quick. And he knew his job. He put the spoon and the sugar on a small plate, the big glass, full of water, near it, poured me a decent shot of a greenish liquid in the other glass, then left.
Only at that very moment, I noticed the man sitting behind me. I had excuses: my attention was focused on Kaylee. The man smiled. “Sam. Long time no see.” I nearly choked on my absinthe. “Mike. A very long time, indeed. What are you doing in a place like this?”
“A routine check-up,” Mike answered. “You know how it works. I was about to leave anyway. Don’t make any mess… we’re watching.” He emphasized the last word with a big smile on his smooth face. His long blond hair twirled as he turned back, heading for the exit.
“A friend of yours?” asked Kaylee.
“Merely an acquaintance. From a long time ago,” I answered a bit dryly. “These guys are hard to avoid.” Another voice, so familiar, was coming from my back. Again. “I must really be getting old,” I thought. I was surprised for the second time in one night. Much more than I had been in ages… But the face I saw when I turned to my left brought tears to my eyes. The man was nearly as tall as myself, I’d say 6’1.” He would have been handsome without that scar going from the corner of his mouth to his forehead through a ravaged left eye.
“You could have tried plastic surgery, they do miracles nowadays,” I said, masking my emotions behind my usual wry humour. “But it’s good to see you, Bar…”
I couldn’t finish before he interrupted me. “Dude. They call me Dude around here, Sam.”
“I thought you didn’t know the place?” Kaylee seemed a bit irritated, but she was looking at “Dude” with something more than simple recognition. Respect? No, it was more than that. Veneration. I frowned. “I don’t, it’s the first time I’ve come in here. But I know people.”
“Dude”‘s look went from me to Kaylee, then back at me. “Good choice,” he said. Kaylee seemed to relax, and she was smiling again. At me. I felt warm. “We’ll catch up later,” Dude said. “I think you’re gonna stay around a bit.” He laughed, a joyous laughter, and my eyes watered a bit, again. I was really getting too sensitive.
“How do you know Dude?” Kaylee asked. “It’s a long story,” I answered. “I have time,” she replied. I laughed. She laughed too. I kissed her, sucking on her lower lip, my tongue playing with hers, the taste of the absinthe mixed with some blood-like flavour. I liked it. My hand was wandering below her leather jacket. Far below. Her skin was smooth. I liked it too.
The song coming out of the speakers gave me goose bumps. “Gimme Shelter.” Sisters of Mercy cover. One of my favorites.
“Come dance.” I wasn’t really asking, and a glimpse of surprise showed in Kaylee’s wonderful pale eyes. She followed. We moved to the music. I know my feet moved. So did my hands. Her outfit was full of so many opportunities for exploration. And that unknown territory was worth being explored. Smooth. Firm. Responding to each touch. She locked her gaze into mine, and I could nearly read her thoughts. Pleasure. Surprise. More pleasure. Amazement.
That was not what I had planned. I had thought about interesting carnal moments with a fiery belle. It was more than this. A connection. Her energies were talking to mine. Her scent was intoxicating me. The rational part in me thought “pheromones.” The more aware part in me knew it wasn’t this; pheromones couldn’t affect me that way.
She obviously had a parallel train of thought. And she seemed at least as surprised as I was. The thoughts didn’t disturb her body, though. Her moves were more lascivious than those of a trained geisha from the Edo period. (Trust me. I was there.) She seemed to absorb the music and give it back with every single part of herself.
She didn’t notice the biker-looking guy behind her. Despite the fact that she got 150% of my attention, I did. “You’re with me, babe,” he said, grabbing her shoulder. For a nanosecond, I considered interfering. Something inside me told me not to. One has to listen to these little inside things; they’re most likely to be right than most rational thoughts. So I didn’t do anything. Kaylee slightly turned her head. Her eyes met the massive leathery biped. She uttered a sound. Massive thing turned pale. Turned around. And turned out to be a potential Olympic racing champion. He left the club as if someone was trying to steal his Harley. Kaylee’s attention was now back to the dance, and to me. I stared at her. I smiled. She frowned a little.
Her lips came close to my right ear. “There is something I have to tell you.” Her tone was deadly serious. I looked into her eyes, still moving to the music, our bodies so close that she seemed to be rolled inside my coat.
“I’m listening,” I said.
“I am a Nephilim,” she whispered. Well, actually, in a normal environment it might have been a yell, but in such a club…you get the point. “No, don’t say anything, don’t laugh… I’m not some kind of role-player or a nutcase. I’m a descendent of the children of Caine and Lilith.”
I was starting to question her mental sanity, despite her “nutcase” comment. She might have seen that, because she looked extremely sad. “You don’t believe me,” she said. “But you should! You know Dude!” I was starting to feel a little irritated.
The music was incantating “Love, sister, it’s just a shot away…” I calmed down. And I did what I should have done from the beginning. I opened my mind. I felt her. “I’m listening,” I said again.
Her face brightened. She had an amazing face, nearly hidden by her fierce red hair. She was worth listening to… and much more. “I practice… magic,” she said. “We are a coven. Dude joins us sometimes. He taught us so much. You know him. I thought you… I thought you knew about magic…”
She started mumbling, and I stiffened. The language she was using was definitely not of this world. And should never have been pronounced. No wonder old Mike was “watching.” Kaylee’s eyes looked straight into my own. “I don’t understand,” she said, “it always works.” She seemed lost. I held her tighter. I bent over her, and started kissing her neck. Her hair smelled good, so did her skin.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I understand.” I actually did.
Interlude 1: Jericho, Middle East, circa 8000 Before Current Era
The man walks at the border of the desert. His pace is smooth, as if the rocks and the sand under his feet are just a layer of rose petals. He is a tall man. His long hair shines in the sun like if it is made of pure gold. He wears a simple piece of cloth, that even the dusty wind doesn’t seem able to soil. Sitting in the front of her hut, crushing millet in a mortar, a young woman stares at him. Then one of the hunters sees the man, and cries out to alert the others. A couple of seconds after, a dozen hunters are running towards the stranger.
Weirdly enough, it takes them more time than the girl would have expected to get to the stranger. “He may have been farther than I thought,” she whispers, not even realizing that she is vocalizing.
She is looking carefully at the scene now, not even pretending to prepare food anymore. The stranger is definitely tall. Taller than any man she ever saw. Taller than any man she’d ever heard of, and being the daughter of a shaman, Lil has heard lots of ancient stories. From what she can see, his head is one foot above the tallest hunter’s scalp.
The flinty points of the hunters’ spears are now surrounding the stranger. He has stopped walking, and doesn’t seem really concerned with the obvious aggressiveness of the other men, just as if he was a grown up in the middle of some children’s play. Lil shivers as she sees Hog stepping forward, his spear slightly pointing at the stranger’s chest. Hog is the strongest of the young hunters, the more skilled. He also thinks quite highly of himself, and has made it clear to everyone that Lil will be his woman as soon as she reaches the age of marriage. Lil doesn’t exactly looks forward to that moment, but Hog will probably be the tribe’s chief soon, as soon as he sees any sign of weakness in Chief Tar. And though Tar is wise and strong, Hog’s head is mostly full of muscles.
For a moment, Lil thinks that she has stayed too long in the sun, as her vision seems to blur. Hog’s spear was about to touch the stranger’s chest, and the moment right after, the stranger is at Hog’s side. Hog trips as his weapon doesn’t encounter the expected flesh and bones, and falls face down in the sand. The other hunters, puzzled, don’t even try to prevent the stranger from resuming his walk to the village.
Hog picks himself up and with a roar of anger throws himself at the stranger, his spear aiming at the unaware back. He has to run a few steps to reach his target, as the large pace of the stranger has already put quite a distance between them. But again, as Hog thought his sharp silex point was going to transfix the alien offender, he moves again. This time, everybody can see the movements, as if the stranger were voluntarily slowing down. He rotates on one foot, avoiding the spear. As Hog, carried along by his momentum, passes him, the stranger slaps the palm of his hand against Hog’s cheek. Nearly a caress, an observer would think. But the sharp “snap” is heard from distance. And as Hog collapses on the ground, his head making a weird angle with his body, the other hunters freeze for a moment. Then they flee.
The stranger is now looking into Lil’s eyes. He smiles. She cannot move, her mind is caught in his gaze. Waves of heat fill her entirely. “I am Sêmîazâz,” he says in a perfectly clear tone, smooth as a caress along Lil’s body, but strong as if it could shake the mountains.
“I am Lil,” she says in a trembling voice, “and I am yours.”
“Yes, you are,” the stranger replies.
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