The Nephilim

Chapter 2

Marcus awoke with a start, his heart seemingly beating at the same intense, rapid pace. As he looked around, his breath coming in almost ragged gasps, his heart slowed. "A nightmare. It was just a dream."

"That was no dream." the otherworldly voice shook Marcus to his core. There was no one around, the disembodied voice's ominous, icy tone sent chills down Marcus' soul. He gulped, as if suddenly remembering he needed oxygen and had been struggling for it only a moment ago. A voice, he thought. I'm going mad. "No, not that either." the voice partly bellowed. What in the name of...? The sound of machinery outside cut him from his reverie and he leaned towards the window, trying to gain a better perspective. He felt the presence as of someone beside him, and swiftly turned to witness a flurry of motion that was there yet was not there. He felt the movement in his perception more than saw it, as that of a candlestick shadow moving away from its holder's shaking hands. "Still believe it was a dream?" the voice queried, now the faintest whisper of an echo. As Marcus looked around in amazement at the presence he felt yet had not seen, the voice he had witnessed yet not heard, an enormous, broad feather materialized as though from the fabric of imagination made real, and fell slowly and precariously into a hand he had not consciously opened. He could barely hold the massive thing of beauty with one grasp. Again he felt his breath return to him, gazing in awe at the wondrous thing.
Marcus felt the feather in his hand, caressing its texture, marveling in its allure. It was somehow both the purest of white and a luminous pearl all at the same time. As he wondered at this miraculous item, a thought struck him. What if this too, is an illusion? A trick of the brain? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. I have to be going crazy he thought somberly. 
"Marcus it's beautiful!" Sera exclaimed, her eyes as large as Marcus could remember ever seeing them. "Where did you get it?" Marcus seemed dumbstruck, trying desperately to search for an answer that did not exist.
"I... I don't know." He managed to mutter quietly. "It just appeared out of nowhere."
"It's so wonderful!" Sera exclaimed. "Is it for me?" She asked hopefully, those piercing blue eyes awaiting her brothers answer apprehensively. Marcus paused, running the feather between his fingers once more. Somehow the object seemed of great importance. With all the events of the past few hours, Marcus felt that this feather just might be the key to explaining things. Maybe it was proof that he wasn't going mad. Still, he thought, looking at his sister's angelic face. Just when was the last time I was able to truly tell her no?
"Yes, but you have to promise me you'll take care of it and that you won't lose it." His tone was not mock seriousness, as it tended to often be with his sister. Sera raised her tiny hand as if taking the Universes most important oath.
"I swear." she said solemnly. Her demeanor shifted slightly. "Mommy said we can't have pancakes because there is no power. She said daddy is helping the neighbors with some trees that the wind blew right over." She stated the last as if it were a more a fictitious thing than a feather magically appearing out of thin air. Marcus handed her the feather carefully, and she took it in both hands even more cautiously than her brother.
"Find some place safe to put it, and don't tell anyone except me." Marcus said instructively. Sera nodded. He tousled the top of her long, blonde hair gently, winked and then made his way downstairs, trusting in his sister's hiding technique. She was terrible at hide-and-seek, even for a six year old. But Marcus and his parents had lost track of the times she had hidden candy and other goodies in her room, long forgotten in nooks and crannies to melt away and be discovered all tragically too late. No, Marcus thought as he reached the bottom of the stairs I'm not worried about anyone else finding it.
Marcus approached the kitchen, hoping he would smell the aroma of pancakes mixed with the sweetness of the added confections. Somewhere deep down, in the depths of his flat stomach, he hoped his sister was somehow mistaken. He paused at the doorway, seeing his mother rush around the kitchen.
"Sorry Marcus, I have to go get ice. Power company doesn't know when the lights will be restored, but it doesn't look good. It took me two hours just to get through to them." She said, trying to hide her annoyance at such an inconvenience but failing valiantly. She kissed her son's cheek hurriedly. "I'll bring back breakfast, don't open the fridge!" She shouted behind her, heading for the front door. Marcus looked around, not able to think of what to do next, as if after all the years of being a lone wolf child were done in vain.
"Where's dad?" He called out.
"Cutting a tree off of the Franklin's SUV!" She slammed the door behind her.
Marcus took stock of the situation, looking around as if he'd find the solution to a darkened home on the kitchen walls. After he regained his wits, he began searching for candles and flashlights. No telling how long the power will be out he thought. Better get these while I can, then open the windows and let the sun do the work while we have its services. He glanced over at the still-closed blinds. His parents must've been in a mad-dash to handle this situation if they left the blinds closed. and others Marcus thought as the sound of a chainsaw filled the distant air. The ruckus halted, and a frenzied shouting soon replaced it. Marcus quickly made his way to the window, a worried expression on his visage.
His father was setting a chainsaw down, his neighbors to the west, the Drummonds, speaking commotionally to his neighbors to the East, the Franklins. The neighbor's vehicle had indeed been crushed by a tree, and the sight made Marcus wince. Thankfully they hadn't been pulling up to the house when the storm was at its worst. He wasn't sure if he could tell from this distance, but he thought everyone looked distraught, even his father. Everyone scurried to the West, out of sight.
"Not good." He mumbled under his breath. His apprehensive desire to find out what was wrong and to subsequently help with the problem was interrupted abruptly by the very reason he couldn't rush out of the house right now.
"What's the matter?" Sera asked.
Marcus glanced halfway up the stairs to his sister, then back to the window, replaying the meeting in his mind. Marcus fought back a bit of worry. His father wouldn't just leave his chainsaw laying around unless the situation was dire.
Marcus turned to his sister, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.
"Dad's helping the neighbors with something important."
"Like what?" Sera asked in a six-year-old curious fashion.
"I don't know," the big brother replied. "But I need you to do me a favor." He grabbed her arms gently, staring intently into her eyes. Her irises were akin to the clearest, blue afternoon sky. 
"I need you to be brave and stay in the house while I go put dad's chainsaw away."
His sister looked down, obviously on the edge of tears.
"I'll only be a minute or two. I'll hurry and I'll rush right back. Don't be scared."
"I hafta be scared." Sera was choking back her emotions. "If you and mom and dad are gone, I'll be all alone." She started to sob, but Marcus could tell she was trying to be brave.
"Gwynnth and Spot will protect you." He said wryly, motioning to the two cats lying there lazily, as if the matters of the outside world grew more boring with every interesting or horrible incident their human counterparts encountered. Sera's tears trailed off her face like comets slowly passing in the night and she smiled, as if convinced. That was easier than I thought it would be, Marcus pondered.
He darted out the door, locking it behind him. He dashed to his fathers' property, taking care with the chainsaw as he brought it towards his family's garage. As he struggled with the electronic opener, he swore he heard voices shouting in the distance, coming from the direction of the nearby wooded area. Damn thing never worked on the spare set, Marcus thought. He juggled the chainsaw in one hand. It was heavier than he remembered it being from the times he had been allowed to use it (his father had called it "supervised practice"), He slapped the "clicker" on his leg a few times, and the garage door creaked open at a halting pace. 
After securing his father's possession, he rushed back inside. His sister waited at the entrance. He was about to speak, when the door pitched open with a whoosh behind him. He turned to see his father, standing there in part muck and blood, a pained look on his features. 
The silence hung for what seemed like the slow and deliberate draining of sand from an hourglass, to the last grain. 
"Dad?" Marcus finally broke the quiet. 
His father looked at him, as if noticing his presence a scant few feet away from him for the first time. "Drifter..." the father managed out, finally finding his voice. It was choked. Tears welled in his eyes. 
Drifter was their neighbor's dog, for as long as Marcus could remember. He had grown old, but he was still as friendly and loyal as ever. Nearly as much their dog as the Drummonds, often times spending an afternoon with the family. He had taken a particular liking to Sera, as it seemed the inevitable outcome for everyone with her. It was often joked that the Nefritti's house was Drifter's "summer and winter home, but only whenever he chose it." The only other animal their cats would deem worthy to enter the house without a death fight, which oddly both families found pride in all three animals for. 
Realization slowly dawned on Marcus' face as he searched his father's eyes for more information. "No..." he muttered noiselessly. He began to weep into his hands.
Their father looked around, as if trying to make sense of things. "They thought he was just getting scared of storms in his old age, and ran off to hide somewhere indoors. They had seen him in the house not long before the rain started..." his thoughts drifted, and he absently stepped farther into the house.
The sound of a little girl weeping brought father and son from their emotional reverie. They embraced her earnestly, and the day went on terribly slowly afterwards.

 
Later that night, Marcus had a fitful sleep. As he drifted off, he dreamt he was in the eye of a great storm, the wind nearby whipping everything around him, the trees as stalks of grass swaying in the gale. Marcus heard something faint, but present above the great howling of the elements, and the din of Drifter's barking compelled him to seek the faithful canine out. "Drifter!" he called desperately. The barking continued, and Marcus could hear the noise was coming from the woods. As he set off, he heard a great whooshing of air above him. He looked up to see an enormous winged creature, descending toward the young man at an astonishing pace. Panic set in, and Marcus prepared himself to dive to the ground. As abruptly as a fighter jet veering in a different direction, the whooshing stopped, and Marcus chanced a glance Heavenward. There, hovering above him, flew an angel. Adorned in a simple white garment, with wings spreading impossibly towards the horizon, the angels muscular features looked particularly menacing. Its eyes were a hollow, bright white. Somehow, the wind had ceased and the storm was no longer, as if a great column of millions of armored warriors marching along all halted and fell quiet. The silence that followed was maddening. 
"Come." the angel beckoned. It was the same disembodied voice Marcus had heard that morning. In the distance, the barking had stopped. 
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" Marcus cried out. 
"To show you the consequences of absolute evil." the angel stated, his voice a rumbling announcement of startling, pure power. 
"W-where are we going?" Marcus stammered. The angel did not speak but turned, slowly, hovering there like a bastion of the surreal. Quickly, without advancing the pace of his beating wings, he flew towards the woods. Marcus scrambled to keep up. 
Upon entering the woods, Marcus felt a deep dreadful foreboding, mixed with panic and despair. Nervously taking his eyes from the winged being he was desperately trying to track, he glanced around the woods. The unmovable trees were like the sentries of the damned, guarding the way to the riverbed of Styx. He had never been frightened here, not even as a child and not even in the dark. It was oddly different. Growing up here he had gotten to know every branch and tree like the passageways of his own home. But something about all of this seemed... eerie and unwholesome. Even different, he noted, as a large Oak stood ominously a few feet in front of him, guarding his path. This wasn't his woods and yet somehow was. He couldn't tell what, but something was definitely off. As if a massive amount of electricity were running through silent machinery right behind his neck, he could feel the wrongness of this place now, as much as sense it. His worry became threefold when he tripped on a hidden log, stumbled to the ground and hit his head on a large rock. To make matters seemingly impossibly worse, he groggily rose to his feet and began frantically searching the sky for signs of the angel. There were none. The odd tingling feeling returned once more. His thoughts raced, and he picked himself up and dashed through the woods, having lost all sense of direction. He could hear rustling of leaves behind him, feel a presence following him, and his maddening, panicked dash became a full flight of terror. He heard a great yelp and rushed towards the sound, frightened for himself as much as he was, he remembered he had come seeking Drifter and had heard the dog barking. Drifter? Strange. Hadn't something happened earlier to the dog?He shook his head wearily. Marcus couldn't remember what it was.  His mind swam and he stumbled a little, putting a hand to his face. He felt something wet in his long, dark hair, but shrugged it off. He had just been running through the woods, after all. As he felt the presence behind him this time nearer than before, he continued again his headlong rush, half stumbling as he reached a clearing. 
There he found the angel, hovering near the ground and looking grimly down upon the earth. But as magnificent and otherworldly as the angel looked, Marcus could soon after not tear his terrified sight from the vacant eyes of the loyal dog, lying there ripped in two. 


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------