Nephalim

Chapter 3: Cain

Miguel Accosta was a lot shorter than I expected. Other than his short stature, he was quite handsome looking, with brown eyes, salt and pepper hair that was cropped short, and a nose that would rival that of the great caesers of old.

As he recounted the events of the night in question, I took down notes. Most of the details he gave were mundane, or already noted. I was already made aware of the lack of blood and the rain, my time with Orsha and Borin made that clear.

"... a-nd then it sprouted black wings and flew away!" he exclaimed.

I looked up from my notes. Black wings? That wasn't in the report.

"Are you sure about that Miguel?" I asked perplexed.

He nodded. "Large and black!"

"Were they bat-like? Deformed? Come on man, I need details!"

My tone must have been a little harsh, as Miguel cowered and stammered: "I-I don't know! I'm sorry!"

I reached out a hand to comfort the cabra. Poor guy had been through hell, what with the involuntary shift, the arrest, the death threat and the chains. He slinked away from my touch.

Behind me there was a knock on the shattered door I forcibly open. I turned, expecting to see the dwarf attempting to repair it, only for my eyes to be meet with the site of an elf.

"Sorry to disturb you sir," it said in its whimsical voice, bowing low. "I am Lo'rran, member of the Council of Magi, patron of the Citadel, at your service."

"Council of Magi?" I said, looking Lo'rran up and down. It was wearing a dark military style suit, with a black grimoire, and a burnt maple wand attached to its belt. "What interest does the council have here? "

"Well sir, the council feels that this murder requires the oversight and skills of the Magi."

"Is that right?" I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigarette. I placed it between my lips. Before I could reach for my lighter, Lo'rran pulled out its wand and ignited my cigarette with magic. I took a puff and said:

"Nice trick, elf, but again, why do I need your pompous ass following my investigation?"

"Well," it said, "it's quite simple. The council wants its best arcane wielder to assist in this due to the prophecy."

I leaned against the wall, a smirk on my face. I took a big drag. "So you mean that phoney balonge nonsense about a mortal killing an angel, leading up to brother killing brother?"

"Which leads to the end of the world, yes."

I took one final puff and stamped out my smoke on the floor of the cell. "Look here, elf-"

"Lo'rran."

"Who gives a shit? Anyway, Lo'rran, I've been around since before you were even a speck in your father's ballsacks. The prophecy? Even fucking longer. The fact of the matter is that it didn't happen during the war between the boys up stairs and the boys down below, it didn't happen when Hitler tried to summon the horsemen, and it sure as hell ain't gonna happen anytime soon."

"Perhaps, but the council doesn't want to take that chance. They insist I be here, regardless of your protests."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, but don't get in my way."

"I wouldn't dream of it, sire."

"Wait, what?" came the quiet voice of Miguel. "You're going to let this puto come along with us?"

I turned to face him. My look of concern turned into a sour frown as my eyes met his. His eyes, which were once brown, were now a pale emerald green with black slits, fixated on Lo'rran. I put a hand up tentatively before I said: