Page 59 of Up In Flames

Gross.

Clearly, Xy despises humans. What that says about his psychology, I don’t know, since he’s at least part human— probably more human than angel. Honestly, it’s easy to see why Sampson doesn’t like him.

“Anyway, by the time The Deity sent his army to imprison the Watchers, their children had already moved over the earth in great numbers. The Watchers were prolific breeders, as were the first generations of Nephilim, their children. Well, it’s a thing, isn’t it? A king can better control his kingdom with his children there to enforce his dictates. When The Deity finally realized how fully the Nephilim controlled the world, how far we had spread, He sent The Flood to rid the earth of our Kind.”

“But you’re here.” I’m the one to interrupt again, since Sampson sits still as a statue hewn of stone.

“And we’re not sure why, to be honest. The Deity doesn’t make mistakes, but…” He shrugs. “Some of us lived, is the point. They hid deep underground and survived the waters, though unfortunately, the Watchers’ base operations on Atlantis and Mu were obliterated. After it was safe to come out again, the Neph found new homes and attempted to rebuild our society. Many settled in what became North America, only to be nearly wiped out again, this time by the native tribes who objected to becoming dinner.”

“Go figure,” I mumble under my breath.

Xy shrugs. “There weren’t enough of us left at that point to breed our way into a sufficient fighting force. Plus, the generations of interbreeding with humans had taken their toll on our strength. Each subsequent generation becomes weaker than the one before, you see. Hell, we’re not even immortal anymore, though our lifespans still put yours to shame.”

So far, what he’s saying isn’t significantly different from the myths and surmises recorded in my books. Which is fascinating. And horrifying.

But while I’m vacillating between fascination and horror, Sampson’s lips have become a line of pure resistance, and have been ever since Xy began his explanation.

I squeeze his thigh again. He pats my hand.

“You’re not evil,” I mouth when he finally looks at me.

His laugh grates the air, filled with pain. “Have you looked across the coffee table? That’s what I am.”

“DNA doesn’t mean you’re like him. You’re not evil,” I insist.

“Probably, it means he’s evil.” Xy shrugs. “Just sayin’. We are what we are. Best to get a handle on it. But I’ll be around to help you, son…er, boy.”

Sampson slowly returns his attention to Xy. “Do you live in town?”

“Hell, no. I live down the mountain, in a cave I’ve decked out. Great stereo system. I’ve got a vinyl collection you wouldn’t believe, and my own waterfall for when human civilization collapses, fed from a deep spring. I could help you find living quarters of your own. Not too close to mine, of course, but in the general area.”

I think this is Xy’s version of being helpful, but the very idea of our civilization collapsing isn’t calming.

Sampson tightens further. If he hasn’t ground his double row of teeth to dust by the end of this conversation, I’ll count us lucky.

Xy continues, “Our Kind, we despise company. We’re best on our own, though we come together when we have to. The day I saw you up the tree with an ax, I was out bringing down a stag that was fleeing the fire. Saw you topple half the tree, and yourself along with it. Idiotic move. We heal fast, but there’s no sense suffering broken bones.”

“We heal fast?” Sampson asks, for the first time looking interested. He turns to me. “I get hurt a lot, and the guys always joke about it.”

“It’s a gift, courtesy of our angelic forefathers, those that are currently trapped beneath the Euphrates until the End of Days, curse The Enemy.”

“The Enemy?” Sampson asks.

“I think he means God,” I say quickly, too superstitious to let Xy explain, since every word that falls from his lips is a profanity. “You think God, whom you call ‘The Deity,’ is your enemy because a bunch of angels disobeyed Him and were punished for it? That sounds an awful lot like victim-blaming.”

Instead of responding, Xy reaches across for Sampson’s untouched beer. After draining it, he flips the tiny bottle from palm to palm. “Some things won’t ever be for your ears, zona, no matter how Sampson might wish otherwise. Not from me, anyway.”

“What does that mean?” Sampson asks. “Zona?”

“It’s an ancient word that was taken up into Hebrew. In their tongue, it translates to whore. Whoa—keep your shirt on.” He holds up his hand as Sampson surges to his feet. “Sit down, son. In our terminology, it’s just the word for the human breeder of a Nephilim.”

“Ewww.” I wrinkle my nose. My hand is stretched up, holding Sam’s pants in the hopes of keeping him from lunging at the older giant, though more and more, I’m reconsidering my pacifist stance. “You’re disgusting,” I tell the other… man/giant/whatever.

“We’re demigods, zona. Your characterizations mean nothing to us. And once your Nephilim lover understands his place in our hierarchy, if he decides to keep you, he’ll make you aware of it so that you don’t forget your place again.”

“Don’t count on it.” But Sampson plops back down on the couch, causing a minor earthquake. Still, he’s coiled like a spring. “Get on with whatever you need to say, Xy. My patience isn’t eternal. Giants roamed the earth, yada, yada, yada, one of them fucked my birth mother, and voila, here I am. Is that it? Because honestly, no matter what I might look like, I’m opting to take after her. I don’t want anything to do with your society. I’m human down to my bones, where it matters.”

“Which brings me to why I’m here, though I needed you to understand the basics first.” If possible, he suddenly looks even shiftier. “Doesn’t matter who you take after, you’re far less human than any of us, a point that really chafes my nuts. I had a human mother. You… well. Not completely. And your father, well...” Xy lets loose a piercing whistle.