Page 15 of Blood of a Huntsman

"That doesn't change the fact that he's nephilim. He can identify, scent, and track that thing better than us. Cat, get him, if you would."

Cat was surprised. She hadn’t realized the man leading the huntsmen here in the United Kingdom was nephilim.

Scions were the fledglings of gods; young, immortal descendants of the known divinities, such as Lucifer, Zeus, and Chronos. Technically, they could have been called gods, but there was a nuance: scions had been raised here, on Earth, or in the other mortal worlds, away from their prestigious parents. That made them a touch less terrifying than the actual divinities.

The nephilim were half immortal, children born of a scion or god and a mortal person. Cat knew one of them better than most. And she understood that they weren’t to be trifled with.

Levi was right. If Jack was one of them, he was the right person to call now.

As she moved to obey, Cat couldn't help but once again notice the difference between Levi and her family. Her parents and aunt ordered her around, no "please" or "if you'd be so kind." A simple "do it" that she was expected to obey without protest or question, even if she didn't understand the hows and whys.

No wondered she liked it here.

But the demon attack marked the beginning of the end. The Stormhales would not let her remain in a dangerous place.

Unless they would somehow profit from it.

Cat wasn’t sure what would be worse—going back home, or staying, knowing that she was only here to play a part in their schemes.

In March, right after the attack on Oldcrest, she’d suspected that there were only two options. Either her family would want nothing to do with the conflict or they would be behind it. Each passing day with no letter telling her to pack her things and go home made her feel more uneasy.

She refused to jump to conclusions yet. For now, Cat would just observe and try to understand what was going on.

And when the pieces finally fit together, she would have a decision to make.

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