Kaleb’s eyes slip closed, as the real confession falls from his lips. “I know…I knowwhat he’s expected to do is unfair and hard and dangerous, but… in the end, his calling will save lives. He’s not just killing demons; he’s protecting people. They’ll never know, but hundreds of people will keep their lives because of what he does.”
A shuddered breath escapes through his clenched teeth, and he opens his eyes, his gaze returning to mine. A strip of the waning afternoon light makes its way through the shadows, and highlights his eyes to the rich color of fresh turned earth, while casting copper slashes along the smooth lines of his nose and cheeks-- a sharp contrast to his dark sepia skin. He hides his pain so carefully that even while looking for it, it’s easy to miss-- deflected and twisted, until it’s invisible and instead, nothing but compassion looks at back at you.
“I’ll save no one,” he declares, pitching his mouth to one side. “My future is nothing but death, and not the souls that have lived full and happy lives. For however long I live, I’ll have to counsel parents to let go of their orphaned children. I’ll have to convince murder victims to release their hate and anger over the injustice of the world. I’ll have to give solace to the spirits that I may personally feel don’t deserve it. And I can’t forget the people that die at the hands of demons. Dark nephilim take out the demons, but it’s the duty of light nephilim to deal with the aftermath.”
My hands slide up his palms and curl into tight grips around his wrists-- the best I have to show I’m here with him and listening without judgement. I can heal any injury. For anyone else that would be a blessing, but for me, it’s been nothing but a cage-- a painful, torturous, cage that I can never escape.
I clear my throat. “So, what I’ve gotten out of this is: it really sucks to be nephilim.”
He laughs, a booming sound that fills the patio. His big hands surround my wrists-- and a sizable amount of my forearm. The heat of his skin burns through the sleeves of my sweater and shirt, warming the flesh beneath.
“Everything has its blessings and its pitfalls,” Kaleb answers, already beginning to shore up the fissured cracks I witnessed in his mask.
“Kaleb, I found Donovan this morning on my way to first period. He was staring at the memorial picture of Felix.” I chew on my lip, scared to know the answer to my question. “He told me-- he said he was different than other dark nephilim… and that he’d be lucky to live past twenty-five. Why?”
“Deodamnatus,” Kaleb curses. “I can’t tell you why he’s different. That’s his story to tell, but it’s his own stupidity that will get him killed.” He expels a slow breath. “We told you that his family died in a house fire, but we left out that it was demons that set the fire. Based on what you just told me, I think he plans to go after them once he graduates.”
“I don’t understand,” I reply, resisting the nervous urge to break away. “Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?”
“Not the way he plans to do it,” he sighs, releasing my left hand so he can rub at his eyes. “His parents were over a hundred years old when they died-- young for nephilim, but they were experienced and well trained-- and still died at the hands of these demons. Normally, Donovan would’ve been raised by another dark nephilim family. Through them he would’ve developed connections, become part of a network that would be able to help him. Instead, he was raised by my parents. He got the chance at a real childhood because of it-- but the cost-- he’s alone.”
Suddenly, the loneliness I felt inside of him that first day we met makes sense. He hoped I was like him, and together, we wouldn’t be alone anymore.
“So the stupidity is…?” I lead.
He purses his lips and fumes, “Instead of trying to find other dark nephilim to work with first-- or at the very least get some real world experience, he’s going tokamikazestraight at those demons.” He releases yet another deep breath, before meeting my eyes. “I’ll talk to him. Try not to worry. I have at least a year and a half to get him to change his mind.”
“You don’t think he’d leave early, do you?” I murmur.
With his right hand, he gives my knee a gentle squeeze. “No, I don’t. And if he tried, my mother would track him down and drag him home.” A smile tugs at his lips. “When the time comes for us to go, she’ll be proud and stoic, because that’s the way she is. But until then, we’re her kids, and no one will stand in the way of her kids experiencing every last moment of their childhood. Not even them.”
I snort and some of the pressure in my chest eases. There’s hope. There’s an answer to help Donovan.
“Anyway, all of this wasn’t what I meant to talk with you about,” he says, shaking his head.
“You mean you didn’t bring me out here just to tell me about your abysmal love life?” I quip, stuffing any of my lingering emotions down into the depths of ‘Deal With Later.’ “I mean you did say everything.”
“Everything is right,” he comments with a smirk. “Surprisingly, being ambushed by my ex was not how I expected this afternoon to go.”
“Yeah, about that,” I grimace. “I don’t think she realizes how broken up you guys really are.”
“I know,” he groans. “I just… haven’t quite figured out how to tell her, since I can’t really go with the truth.”
“So that’s the rule? Tell no humans ever?” I ask, my free hand now scratching at my jeans.
A sardonic expression twists over his features. “There’s one way it’s excused to share with a human what you are-- you marry them. Once they’re family, or will be family, then they can know.”
I blink at him for a moment. “Well, that’s intense.”
“Yeah.” He begins tracing delicate lines along the back of my right hand, and sweet shivers follow in the wake of his fingers. “I liked Rachel, but despite high school benchmarks regarding relationships, I didn’t really see forever for us.”
His heartbeat is a steady pulse beneath my palm, and he seems for the most part relaxed. I feel twinges of pity for Rachel, because as far as I can tell, Kaleb appears to have made peace with their breakup.Then again, what do I know? I’m still working on functioning in some semblance of a normal person.
This, however, does bring up something I’ve wondered. “Okay, so humans can only be brought into the supernatural loop if they’re going to become ‘part of the family’.” I finger quote with one hand. “Does that mean every supernatural person has at least one supernatural parent, or can humans get a ‘surprise, you have a witch baby’?”
He does that thing again, where he searches my eyes for what’s not being said in my question, and my stomach has an uncomfortable freefall sensation. With every conversation we have, the feeling he’ll piece my history together without me realizing it grows. Amidst the empathy and compassion that floods through him, is an astute mind that misses little.
“Every supernatural has to have at least one supernatural parent,” he answers evenly without any hint of judgement over my ignorance. “Except for vampires-- then both parents have to be vampires.”
