Page 12 of Semi-Fallen

“I’m not sure,” he murmured. “Tell me, Lane, why do you use your powers to stop demons? You could do anything you wanted to do. Why do that?”

She looked confused by the question. As if no one had ever asked it before. Because normal people can’t do it, she signed. If not me and my family, who would protect the humans?

“Do you think the humans would put themselves at risk to save you if they knew what you were?”

My help isn’t transactional. I don’t save people so that they’ll return the favor. Besides, I don’t need their help. They need mine.

“So, you have a moral compass, is that it?”

She gave him the universal “well-duh” shrug. That was interesting, too. Not only was she defiant, she was willing to openly mock him. No one mocked angels. There was plenty of bowing, praying, and pleas for mercy when his prey learned what he was, but never mocking.

Strangely enough…he enjoyed it.

Is my moral compass a problem for you? she signed.

“It is,” he answered, dead serious. “You don’t appear to be the soulless monster I’ve been led to believe all Nephilim are.”

Sorry to disappoint.

He laughed out loud at that. He couldn’t help it. “You’re very much not a disappointment, Lane Hunter.”

She seemed to relax a bit at his words. He saw the tension ease out of her shoulders as she looked up at him and signed, What makes you sure I’m a Nephilim?

“Your energy. Your strength. You feel like…part of me, if that makes sense. Do you feel it, too?”

She desperately didn’t want to feel it. He could see that clearly on her face. But she nodded.

“That’s angelic grace,” he told her. “Yours calls to me. Just like mine calls to you.”

She frowned and started signing so furiously he almost couldn’t follow. Haven told me about you years ago. She said you’d been looking for a Nephilim for decades before you were locked away in the hell dimension. I’m only twenty-eight. I can’t possibly be the same Nephilim you were looking for.

Well, at least she wasn’t debating her status as a Nephilim. The logistics of this whole mess were a lot less complicated than the facts. “You’re twenty-eight in human years in this dimension. I would imagine your mother—or father—hopped between many, many dimensions to keep you safe. You’re much older than you look, Lane. Hundreds of human years older.”

He could practically hear her thoughts. That’s how hard she was thinking. “You know in your heart it’s true,” he told her gently. “You’ve always felt different. More powerful. Smarter. Stronger. Like you don’t belong here, yes?”

Her gaze shot to his, and if looks could kill, he’d be taking his last breath very shortly.

He watched her graceful hands signing furiously, I do belong here. I have family, friends, a job, purpose.

Lucien had touched a nerve, it would seem. He gave her a short bow. “My apologies. I did not mean to offend you. I’m only suggesting that you look into your heart to discern the truth of my words. You are Nephilim, Lane. And I think you know it.”

Some of the fire died down in her eyes, and her shoulders relaxed again. So…does that mean you’re going to try to kill me now?

It tickled him endlessly that there was no fear in her eyes when she signed that question. And that she’d asked him if he’d try to kill her. As if to imply the task wouldn’t be as easy as he might think.

He thought about her question for a moment. Long enough for her to fall subtly into a fighting stance. Lane Hunter was ready to face death, but she’d do it swinging. Ultimately, that—her fire, her passion, her will to live—was what made his decision for him.

“No,” he answered. “I’m not. But…there will be others.”

And it wasn’t until that moment, watching her accept the truth of his words, that he realized he’d fight every one of his brothers and sisters to keep her safe.

Every. One. Of. Them.

God help them all.

CHAPTER 7

Lane sat down in the soft, warm sand.

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