Capitulum XXXIV

A s the man became corporeal, I knew immediately that he wasn't human.

It reminded me of the organ player — an uncanny mix of beautiful and strange. Like the organ player, he was too smooth, but most notably, his skin was a cornflower blue, the hue only really varying to a deep purple along the inner curve of his bottom lip.

In contrast, his hair was an inky black, highlighting his features, even in the low firelight. The most human thing about him was the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Are you ready to stop crying?" he asked.

Ephraim shook his head. "Just give her a moment."

"Why? So she can continue raising the humidity in the room with her salty little feelings? I have other things to do today."

"Who are you?"

"I"—he glanced between Ephraim and me—"I run things around here. Let's just say that."

"I thought . . ."

"Ephraim here has to be the human face, but I carry information to the higher-ups."

"I wanted the opportunity to explain things to her gently," Ephraim interjected.

"Why? Multiple lives and the lion's share of my patience have been sacrificed in the name of this information, so I think it's high time we got on with it." He turned to me. "You want to know what's going on, yeah?"

I nodded.

"Of course you do. Even Ephraim here doesn't know the whole story. He just knows that he has to do what we say. So, I suggest the both of you listen up."

He leaned onto the desk, steepling his fingers together. "There is something evil in Last Hope, something that has never been alive."

An icy spike of fear went through me.

"It's one of us, one of ours, who escaped to hide in the mortal world long ago." He smirked. "Or, well, a long time for you people. Anyway, it took us a decent while to track it down to Last Hope. Did you never wonder how the group of you could live out there unbothered? How no one seemed to be able to leave?" He rolled his eyes, like he was experiencing renewed frustration at the stupidity of humans.

I shook my head. "Why? What's the point of trapping a bunch of humans out in the woods? Don't you people have better things to do?"

The man grinned wickedly. "Because no one in Last Hope is really just a human."

My eyes widened, and the man made a cartoonish grimace in agreement.

"I, too, find it distasteful. But once he settled there to collect humans, he took the opportunity to... breed with them and has continued to do so for many of your generations. Everyone who was born in Last Hope carries some of that blood."

I remembered Rigel's words from the infirmary as we'd gazed up at the massive strange man.

"Nephilim?" I asked.

"If you wish."

"But we don't . . ."

"Oh, no, you wouldn't be like any of the big scary giants in your story books. Most of you are quite dilute. Regardless, carrying blood from the other world gives you certain advantages that we desperately need if we want any chance of returning him to the right side of the universe."

All I could do was grimace. "Wait, does that mean we're all related?"

He snorted. "Oh, are you worried since you copulated with one of them? No, otherworldly blood doesn't have the same genetic connotations as it does for mortals, even in much stronger doses than what you have. So, have no fear about that."

I still didn't necessarily savor the idea that I'd had a baby with some kind of distant, half-demon cousin, but he didn't allow me to ruminate on that piece of information for too long.

"While none of you are particularly more gifted than the average humans"—his accompanying sneer implied he didn't exactly hold those supposed abilities to very high esteem—"there are some benefits that we are unable to duplicate. He can not smell you when you are near, alive or dead."

My mind flashed to every time I'd visited Last Hope.

The earthquakes. They had only happened when I hadn't gone alone. Like whatever was there could sense the others but not me.

"Smell?"

"We have very keen senses of smell. It's one of the few things that isn't dulled by being in the mortal world. There's also the inarguable benefit that he can't actually destroy any of you."

"Destroy?"

"Yes, while he might be capable of killing your human bodies, the true essence of your soul is untouchable, which is why we can only in good conscience send you guys into Last Hope in hopes of you dealing with him."

I remembered my exchange with the spider woman, who had said she chose not to destroy Lindy's history. But what if the truth was that she couldn't?

"Right."

"The unfortunate downside of your skills is that, once you enter purgatory, you're exceptionally more prone to madness, and thus, it is essential that you are not emotionally compromised while you're here. And unfortunately, you all had very odd, grim lives, so knowing your history is quite the no-no."

"Why not just tell us and get us treated early? There's a whole monitoring system here for the madness, right? Why keep us in the dark and expect us not to look?"

He barked out a laugh. "You think we haven't tried that? We had to put one of you on ice for hundreds of years just to wait until we had enough of you far enough along to have a significant enough chance at success. It's not that the madness comes on fast, but it's much harder to treat. The mouse bones that keep regular humans connected to their humanity don't work as well on you because you're not entirely human."

"So, you're telling me I'm going to lose my mind?"

The man shrugged, leaning back in the chair and using his toe to spin himself, saying, "Can you see why we were trying to hold off for as long as possible? But unlucky for everyone here, some teacher decided he wanted to get his rocks off enough to ruin the whole thing."

I flinched.

"Anyway, despite the setback of losing control of the other girl, not all hope is lost."

"Am I going to be trapped in the cathedral for another hundred years?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

He laughed. "Gracious, no. The only upside of your little trip into Last Hope was that it gave us a fresh new soul, ready to be plucked and preened."

I blinked. "You mean . . . Betty?"

"What? No, she's still alive. I mean the dead one."

I shot up, putting my hands on the tabletop to maintain my balance. "No."

"Oh, I think yes," the man said, chortling.

I turned to Ephraim. "You can't."

"He can't stop this any more than you can," the man purred. "Rest assured, much like yourself, the young man won't remember who he was. You just have to make sure it stays that way."

I collapsed into the chair, my head falling into my hands as I tried to keep from puking. "Please don't..."

"Since I am merciful, given the nature of your situation, I've decided that you will be allowed access to your daughter, if for no other reason than a desperate hope it will keep you from losing your mind before we can get our use out of you."

I wanted to be happy about it, but my mind could conjure one word.

Cassidy.

A cold breeze rushed through the room, and when the man next spoke, his icy breath brushed against my ear.

"And in exchange for this, we expect you to help us monitor next year's most interesting new student."

THE END