Tainted, Book One: Possessed

2. The Fallen

Gemma Shepherd

"Welcome to the Sanctuary. My name is August Richter and I'm your warden. That means I'll act as your guardian during your stay here."

I glanced at the man walking beside me. With his perpetually pink cheeks, white hair and beard, and blue eyes, he looked just like an old-fashioned Father Christmas.

"Nice to meet you officially," I murmured.

"You don't remember me, but I've been your warden since the day you were born." He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling. "I met your mother when you were eight days old. Even then, you had a downy head of red hair."

When he'd walked into my hospital room, I'd recognized him, but not for that reason, of course. No, it was because I remembered him from the night that boy had attacked me. I shuddered. Most of the night was a blur except for a few random images, but I could recall August's face clearly.

Four days ago, I'd awakened in the worst pain of my life. I'd healed myself until I'd drained every last drop of power, and it had taken me days to recover. This was the first time I was strong enough to leave my bed, so, when August suggested going outside, I agreed, more than ready to leave the white hospital walls behind me.

We walked in a long, slow circle around a giant flower garden. The weather was lovely for the first week of September and the fall blooms filled their beds, lush and cheerful in the afternoon sun.

"Do you know what you are?" he asked.

I nodded, but didn't speak.

I'd been able to heal for as long as I could remember. Everything from birds' wings to my own scraped knees. It had been as natural as breathing. It had taken my mom longer to realize what was happening. Once she had, she'd made me promise to keep it to myself. No one could learn of my abilities. It would be a disaster, she'd said, and I'd become a target in a war it was best to know nothing about.

To keep her happy and protect myself if what she said was true, I stored the knowledge of what I was to a rarely visited part of my mind. And, while I always wondered about my father and his world, I learned to keep my thoughts to myself. It upset her when I asked questions, and I'd hated to upset her.

Now, I took a deep breath and, for the first time in my life, prepared to say the words aloud.

"My mom explained a bit. My father was—" I trailed off, uncomfortable, then let it all out in a rush. "My father was a demon."

"Your father was one of the Fallen," August corrected. "A Fallen angel."

"Isn't it one and the same?" I was confused.

"An angel is an angel, whether Fallen or Divine. The Fallen retain the same abilities as the Divine and their power stems from the same source. The major difference is that the Fallen no longer enjoy the grace of God nor are they permitted to enter Heaven."

We reached a small pond, teeming with flashes of gold and orange.

"What do we—" I shook my head. "Is there a name for us?"

"We call ourselves nephilim, although it is not the most accurate term. The first race of nephilim was sired by God's angels millennia ago," August went into lecture mode, and I hid a smile. "They were giants, super-humans, heroes, but they grew vain and cruel and began to influence the course of humanity too much. God declared them an abomination, disposed of them, and forbade his angels further dalliance with human women. Satan was not so strict with his angels, however, and now the Fallen are the only ones who father nephilim."

"Half-demon or half-Fallen angel," I grimaced, "we're still half-evil."

I'd always hated knowing that and did my best to live as good and clean a life as possible to make up for it.