Chapter Thirty-Five

Hank's POV

"She's here, sir." Blakely told me. I sighed, placing the black feather in my inner pocket. I had never dreaded something so much, and that said a lot. Still, I'd caught both her and the Parnell boy in one fell swoop. Lynn was always Blythe's annoying friend; who knew that both of our progeny were going to come back and be even worse. I looked back at the door, and Blakely was still standing there.

"Can I help you?" I asked him, frustrated at his expression. He closed the door behind him, carefully choosing what to say.

"Are you sure about this, Hank? Is what the fallen angel wench said even valid?"

I stood up, folding my hands behind my back. "There's no reason to doubt it. The devilcraft ring prototypes are showing exactly what was claimed. Your science is doing exactly as it was supposed to; now you're telling me to deny it?" I challenged. Blakely flinched, but stood his ground.

"I just…I think that this is an abrupt move. Foolhardy, even. Have you even once considered that by doing this, you're cementing that fate that you keep believing in?"

I simply stared at him. It was noteworthy that Blakely was willing to say this. He was a brilliant scientist, but timid. It was why I could trust his opinions and his work without ever fearing that he would try to usurp me. So this was audacious for him.

Emboldened by my silence, he continued. "I also think that-"

I held my hand up. "Enough. You've said enough."

He looked down, then looked back up with what looked like rage. "You're leaving us to a child. An ignorant child. A child that you abandoned, a child that literally sleeps with the enemy. How can you expect me to say nothing? How can you expect us to say nothing? You said you were better than Chauncey, better than his self-centeredness. I'm starting to th-"

Crack!

The bullet hit him square in the upper shoulder, causing him to keel to the ground in pain. The bullet was infused with devilcraft, so he continued to bleed profusely. I placed the gun back in the holster underneath the desk.

"Maybe you didn't hear me say that you were finished. Do not ever compare me or my leadership to that man." I hissed. "Chauncey knew nothing about true leadership or sacrifice." I stood back, looking at the door. "Everything I do, everything I've done, I do for our race. Do not ever question my loyalty."

"I don't question your loyalty, I question your courage." Blakely spat, blood dripping from his mouth. "I've never questioned you, not before recently. I have always been loyal to that, and to you."

I knelt down to him, expression deceptively soft. "You want to know what confirms to me that I will not last?" He looked at me, trying to balance on one knee. I could tell he was losing his conviction. "It's as you said. My closest men, losing their faith in me. My closest men, forgetting their place."

Blakely's head hung low, energy depleting from his body. I sighed. "Rest now, Blakely. I understand your worries, but I will not entertain them any further. If you'll excuse me." I opened the door; there were soldiers standing on the outside trying to seem as if they heard nothing. As they should.

"Clean him up, and get him home."

They nodded. I proceeded to one of the interrogation chambers, where I knew my daughter was being held. Upon opening the door, I saw her tied to a chair, blindfold on. Her face immediately wrinkled in disgust as I loosened the blindfold.

"What do you want?" Nora demanded. It was a testament to her that she wasn't crying or screaming, though her voice shook. It revealed that she wasn't shocked, confirming that the angel had likely informed her of what I was.

I pulled a chair in front of her. "To talk."

"Not in the mood, thanks anyway." She retorted.

I was more fatigued and put on edge by my argument with Blakely than I realized, because her comment immediately pissed me off. "Do you know who I am, Nora?"

Her eyes hardened. "Off the top of my head? You're a filthy, lying, manipulative, worthless little—"

My hand flew across her face. I'd had enough back talk for one day. I wouldn't accept it from my men, and I certainly wouldn't accept it from a stupid little girl.

"Do you know I'm your biological father?" I asked her.

" 'Father' is such an arbitrary word. Douche bag, on the other hand…"

So she knew. "Then let me ask you this. Is that any way to speak to your father?"

Her eyes welled up, and I know we both thought of Harrison. "Nothing you've done gives you the right to call yourself my father," she whispered.

That was a fair sentiment. It changed nothing. "Be that as it may, you are my blood. You bear my mark. I can't deny it any longer, Nora, and neither can you deny your destiny."

"My destiny," she said, struggling at the ropes, "has nothing to do with yours. When you gave me up as a baby, you forfeited any right to have any say in my life."

"Despite what you may think, I've been actively involved in your life since the day you were born." Helping Blythe buy a car to get Nora to preschool, setting up Harrison with a job, getting them started. "I gave you up to protect you. Because of fallen angels, I had to sacrifice my family—"

"Ha!" Nora cackled. "Don't start with the poor-me routine. Quit blaming your choices on fallen angels. You made the decision to give me up. Maybe you cared about me back then, but your Nephilim blood society is the only thing you care about anymore. You're a zealot. It's all on you."

The foolish girl. True, the money slowed once Nora was a pre-teen, but it didn't mean that I did not contribute. She was busy trying to shove her abandonment issues in my face that she didn't realize there were larger issues than that. There were sixteen year old Nephilim that were enslaved to fealty every day by fallen angels, but she got to live a relatively normal life. A life that would have ended if it weren't for me. A life that she had the audacity to claim was somehow incomplete. A life that I never got to live.

I was almost disgusted at her selfishness. "I should kill you right now for making a fool of me, of my society, of the whole Nephilim race." Nothing would have brought me more pleasure than to shoot her directly in the face and hold her body above the crowds of Nephilim that questioned my loyalty, and in the fallen angels that doubted my power. And especially in front of the fallen angel that 'loved' her.

"Then do it, already." She hissed, glaring at me.

Her conviction bored me. She thought she was willing to die for her point, and I had seen her suffer enough to know that there was true passion there. But it was all for naught, and not worth my time. I pulled the black feather from out of my coat.

"One of my advisers found this in your bedroom. It's a fallen angel's feather. Imagine my surprise upon learning that my own flesh and blood is keeping company with the enemy. You had me fooled. Hang around fallen angels long enough and their proclivity for deceit rubs off, it seems." I paused momentarily. "Is the fallen angel Patch?"

Patch. It seemed that no matter what I did, that bastard was somehow managing to slip through the cracks of my plans. He hadn't managed to do anything large scale, but that almost seemed to be the trick. He was a master at subtle inconvenience, of changing minor things and having major effects. That my daughter would fall into his arms, the arms of one the family's most personal and effective enemies…

Nora glanced at the feather. "Your paranoia is astounding. You found a feather while pawing through my drawers, so what? What does that prove? That you're a pervert?"

It took everything not to smack my lips in annoyance. Ugh, please. I leaned back in the chair. "Is this really the road you want to take? I have no doubt the fallen angel is Patch. I sensed him in your bedroom the other night. I've sensed him on you for a while."

"Ironic that you're grilling me when you obviously know more than I do. Maybe we should switch seats?"

I'd give her credit, she was willing to try to go toe to toe with me, without any benefit of immortality to save her fragile life. Not yet, at least.

"Oh? And whose feather do you expect me to believe was in your drawer?" I wondered if she could actually even name another fallen.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I found the feather in the cemetery right after you dumped me there." she claimed, frustrated. I grinned. Silly girl didn't even know she'd told on herself.

"My men ripped out Patch's wings in the same cemetery. I daresay it's his feather."

Nora blanched. Checkmate. I couldn't help but note another irony of our conversations. Most fathers had arguments with their daughters about boys. They didn't want their daughters dating losers, I didn't want mine dating a loser. It could all be so simple.

Nora looked down, acknowledging her defeat. "I know you planned the car crash," she said, changing direction. "I know it was your men who hit us. Why the charade?"

What a great segue. "That was next on my list of things to discuss."

The fallen angels began arriving at the warehouse, one by one. There were at least ten to fifteen in the forest so far that lay a hundred feet away, unwilling to leave the darkness that shaded them. Only visibility was the hungry gleam in their eyes. They had heard what was going down, and it was tantalizing. Two warehouses, hundreds of Nephilim. Like a game of cat and mouse, all they had to do was wait for panicked mice to scurry to safety.

Blood would be shed, and vows would be had. That was what they'd been promised.

Nora didn't seem concerned about my explanation of Marcie's welfare, but the cogs were finally beginning to turn in her head. "That's why you didn't bother hiding Marcie from RIxon. That's why you gave me up, but kept her. You never thought she'd live long enough to be used as a sacrifice."

This seemed to be a turning point for her. She let out a silent sigh, and closed her eyes.

"Nora. Open your eyes. Look at me."

She shook her head. "I won't swear the vow. Not now, not ten minutes from now, not ever."

Her loyalty was impressive. If only it had been to the right side.

"I admire your bravery. But there are all kinds of bravery, and this one doesn't suit you." I tucked her hair behind her ear, watching her jump. "Swear the vow the become a purebred Nephil and command my army, and I'll let you and your mother go." I noted that she froze through the rest of my explanation.

"My mom?"

"That's right. She's here. In one of the lower rooms."

"Did you hurt her?"

Ah. So here was her weakness. Not herself, but others. "I am the Black Hand. I'm a busy man, and I'll be honest, this is the last place I want to be tonight. This is the last thing I want to be doing. But my hands are tied. You hold the power. Swear the oath, and you and your mom will walk away together."

My other daughter was on her way to the other warehouse with the necklace. Which meant that I needed to be down there to obtain it, and put long term plans into action. One daughter was bringing me the key that the other had sabotaged.

"Did you ever love her?"

My eyes widened. Blythe? "Your mother? Of course I loved her. At one time, I loved her very much. The world is different now. My vision has changed. I had to sacrifice my own love for interest of my entire race."

My love for Blythe was young, and stupid, but it was real. If I hadn't loved her, I wouldn't have handled Nora's conception the way I did. I would have discarded of her the way Chauncey had ordered. But that didn't matter anymore.

"You're going to kill her, aren't you? If I don't swear the vow, that's what you'll do."

I no longer burned a flame for Blythe. She had become a silly distraction, though a needed one. So my answer gave me no qualms. "My life has been defined by difficult choices. I won't stop making them tonight."

Three more angels sauntered out into the moonlight toward two more angels standing nearer to the warehouse. The light sparkled off of the blonde, absorbed by the darkness of the dark haired angel. He held his finger to his lips, then pointed at the warehouse. Inside they could sense hundreds of free livestock roaming the grounds.

The dark haired fallen angel didn't care what they took, or how they took it. His concern was the small, weak but still unmistakable energy of an archangel laying in the middle of the waste. He waited for the time to be right, and for the Black Hand to arrive.

"I swear now, with this new blood running through my veins, that I am no longer human, but a purebred Nephil. And if you die, I'll lead your army. If I break this promise, I understand my mom and I are both as good as dead."

She looked at me, defeat etched in her features. "Did I do it right? Is that all I have to say?"

I nodded. She looked away, almost in a trance. The shock would wear off. I called one of my men into the room.

"Walk her down to her mother, and lead them both out. They're done here. I'll be going to the warehouse over."

Upon arrival of his enemy, the dark haired angel began to move.

I know we're all waiting for our favorite boy, but plot is plot! It's gotta happen guys, sorry! Don't worry, it's coming- I'm working on it, I promise.