Nephilim The Afflicted

By Mandy Madrox

If you found out you were half-demon and damned to hell no matter what you did, what would you do? Raven Ashlynn, keeps doing what she thinks is right. Unable to return to her life as she knew it, Raven struggles to maintain her mundane routine. But her trips to the comic shop and coffee house may come to an end. A new nightclub, run by a Warlock with seemingly questionable intentions, has opened its doors. Things keep getting worse through the Halloween season. The Afflicted are hunting humans on the streets of Kankakee, and an enemy arrives by a late-night train. But it’s the arrival of a mysterious invitation, that may cause the most trouble. The Afflicted is the second volume out of six in the Nephilim series by Mandy Madrox. Some of the events in this fantasy novel take place in Kankakee, Illinois.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mandy Madrox
• Release date: Feb 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463885208

Mandy Madrox

If you’ve ever heard the old folk song, The City of New Orleans, you’ve at least heard the name of the city I’m from. “All along the southbound odyssey. The train pulls out at Kankakee.”I have always had a pretty active imagination and a fascination for all thing’s horror, fantasy and science fiction. One of my favorite childhood memories was pretending to be asleep, so I could stay up late to watch horror movies on the tiny black n white tv in my bedroom. To this day, I look forward to the Halloween season for all the horror marathons on tv. I can’t get enough — even the ‘cheesy’ old ones.An all-around geek, I’m into many different fandoms. I have an appreciation for older cars and older things. Music is pretty much anything. Video games? Yes, in my spare time.My first published work was “Curse of the Dark Heart”, a short horror story included in Bleed Black Volume 1, (January 2015) an anthology put together by Black Heart Comics to raise money for Juvenile Diabetes.I love to write. I don’t want to write the next ‘big thing’ I just want to tell a good story. Aside from the Nephilim series, I have a few ideas within the science fiction genre I’m working on, another in the fantasy realm and a few just for laughs.

Book preview

Nephilim

The Afflicted

By Mandy Madrox

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2018 Mandy Madrox

All rights reserved, no part of this work—names, settings or otherwise---can be reproduced without express permission of the author.

All characters and settings appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or otherwise is unintended and is purely coincidence.

Find Nephilim online:

Nephilimnovels.com

Facebook.com/nephilimnovels

Twitter.com/ nephilimnovels

Dedicated to my Family.

Thanks again, Olivia.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

And the smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever: and they have no rest day nor night, who worship the beast and his image, and whosoever receiveth the mark of his name. - Revelation 14:11

The Devil’s Pits, a vast landscape of torment where the wicked were sent to burn for their sins. An eternity unable to move as the devil’s agents doused the wicked in a fire that would never extinguish; hellfire that devoured flesh as it bubbled and peeled into charred layers that flaked away, filling the pungent air with ash. Something that took moments to happen in life, here prolonged and stretched to a slow crawl that felt like decades. Just when they believed their suffering was at an end, it would start again. The orchestrators of their torture never speak, they only grin and cackle. All the damned could hear was the sound of their own flesh sizzling as their own screams joined the myriad of other souls crying out in perpetual agony.

In the middle of the pits, Damien stood atop a raised platform of heated stone and smoldering ash. The Archdemon Mephisto should have occupied this location, but the fire-bound fallen angel had long ago abandoned his station. His plan hatched and then carried out over a few centuries had finally come to fruition. Treacherous whispers seeped into the minds of mortals and Nephilim alike, building his cult of flame which aided him in breaching the barrier between the world of men and demons. His plot had backfired, trapping him between the two worlds, and ultimately he failed to usurp Lucifer’s potential earthly reign.

Mephisto’s scheming and patience to cross over had appeared inevitable until a rare breed of Dark Nephilim heard his call. She had been drawn to his gathering, had passed his tests and was heralded into a position within his master plan. But, being caught between realms had limited him. It denied him resources and knowledge that might typically be available, leaving him unaware that the girl he falsely knew as Alex was in truth playing a dangerous game. It had been the night of his victory. The faithful had gathered to usher in his new era. Mephisto would feast on the souls of the innocent; those loyal to him would receive blessings from their master and his fire would reforge the world.

If not for the unpredictable anomaly in the grand scheme, that was what could have happened. But a system dating back before the birth of Christ had been broken as a newly awakened Dark Nephilim stood within the Halls of Destiny and chose to walk the opposite path expected from her kind. That heavy choice led to this moment. A gateway had been torn open, exposing Mephisto as he became freed from limbo and no longer trapped between the two worlds.

The son of Lucifer had stood there waiting. The second the fabric of reality between Hell and Earth ripped open, he grinned. The bulk of Mephisto’s scaly body blocked his view. A muffled, distorted onslaught of human screams made their way through the opening.

As the Archdemon moved, glimpses of a burning room were now in sight. Damien saw a collection of terrified young girls, draped in pure white sacrificial gowns, huddled and crying along one wall. Humans had gathered in black robes; he managed to get a fleeting look at them. But he couldn’t see what he was looking for. He couldn’t see Raven, the Dark Nephilim he had struck a deal with. But he knew she was there.

Damien stalked forward, grabbing the long crocodile-like tail of the Archdemon as it protruded through the portal. His leather boot heels dug into the ground as a tug of war battle ensued. Mephisto held tightly onto an altar on the other side of the portal, and, as Damien gave a solid yank, the Archdemon’s anchor began to give way. Damien growled in frustration, pulling again on the appendage belonging to his father’s betrayer. This time, Mephisto came through, almost landing on the Prince of Hell.

No! The single exclamation rumbled from his throat and a fresh glow of amber showed through the scale-plated seams of his skin. The Archdemon rose to his feet and let forth a wave of flames from his gaping maw in Damien’s direction. The flames fanned out across the smoldering stone and ash. It fed nearby pits of fire causing them to spiral upward toward the black abyss above. His attempted mutiny was over. Mephisto was back where he belonged to face Lucifer’s judgment. His following now scattered, and Damien had made a bargain he hoped one day would pay off substantially.

In the time that followed, the demon prince found himself an observer in Raven’s life. He watched from the rooftop across from Aiden’s house as she recovered from her injuries. Damien hid from being sensed or detected by dwelling within the veil, just a step out of phase from what the mortal eye could see. He sat on the roof next to her bedroom window, listening as she wove a story about a secret book and how she used it to summon him.

He was impressed. The young half demon lived up to the reputation of a Shadow demon’s skill in deceit. Raven told those gathered around her recovery bed that she had found a book in the library at the Collins Estate. She spoke just enough truth to sell the lie. She explained that the book was old, a tome that documented demons and summoning spells. Damien was pleased to see her heed his advice not to mention where she had been, or the name of the actual book she had read.

However, he was not pleased when she had been completely honest about how she acquired the marks on her palms. Neither were her guardians. Aiden became livid and spoke to her harshly as if she had lost her mind. He stormed out of the room, leaving Owen and the Light Nephilim he knew only as Zaida, to try and understand Raven’s reasoning.

You wouldn’t understand, the Dark Nephilim had said and tried to explain. Maybe you wouldn’t have done something like that. Your soul would be a prize to them, but mine goes to hell no matter what I do. I didn’t think about what happens next, just what I needed to do to stop Mephisto without turning into barbecue.

They argued, scolded one another, and the Light Nephilim and Guardian were each left worried and deeply concerned. Raven had done what she thought necessary, and her guardians now had a more significant problem on their hands. What would Damien expect of their charge?

This was a peculiar situation. Raven was half Shadow demon, a Dark Nephilim, who had sided with the forces of Heaven. She couldn’t support or contribute to the torment and destruction of others. So, she did what she felt was right.

Aiden had volunteered as her guardian when no one else would. Owen was later assigned to help. The council strongly felt that two guardians were necessary to guide her. Both men were Grigori. But the Grigori of modern times. The result of the original Grigori and humans in The Garden of Eden forming intimate unions. These new Grigori guided the Light Nephilim, trained them and deployed them in the battle between Heaven and Hell.

Zaida was a Light Nephilim; her guardian had died in battle. Without a mentor, and having known Aiden and Owen, she had been reassigned to their custody.

Damien had peered into the kitchen window as Raven read in the local paper about the official story of what had happened that night. Media outlets eagerly accepted and reported the story with an admirable mix of truth and necessary lies. The public believed what the news reported.

The Collins House had been the headquarters for a cult. Small town America blighted by corruption and insanity. The girls who had gone missing were fed drugs which caused them to be more susceptible to suggestion and hallucination. A photo of a half-burned demonic mask covered in ash and surrounded by rubble had been the most memorable image the media consistently used. Caught during their attempt to flee the scene, local citizens, law enforcement, and a few politicians were among those arrested. Many others had gotten away, which troubled Raven, as she continued to struggle with what she had become that night.

She managed to hide it well when Aiden, Owen, and Zaida were around. But Damien saw the truth buried under a new life’s routine. He became familiar with what he considered her human behaviors and interests. She never missed getting the new comics when they came out; he even took mental note of their titles. He managed a peek at her playlist, observing the kinds of music she preferred. Damien witnessed her attempts to catch even a moment’s sight of her family at the Saturday Farmer’s Market. While those aspects of a mortal life amused him, it was her other life’s secretive activities and blossoming demonic traits that had his real interest.

He thought about these things, what he had seen her do in training, even speculating on what he could not observe. What kind of limits would a half human, half Shadow demon have? Such a combination typically ended in stillbirth, the mother dying or both. Few survived, and even fewer lived long enough to have any powers manifest. Raven took the current count of known half Shadow demons walking the earth up to an even two. The other was older, a world-famous American musician known for shock rock music with lyrics and stage shows that had caused great controversy at the height of his career. The musician did not go left, nor right, as his abilities manifested without any trauma-triggered awakening. But his loyalties to Lucifer were clear.

Raven’s choice to go against the tide of her nature was part of what had captivated Damien. How would her journey through the light turn out? As he honed in on her current location, he grew a bit anxious. Instead of finding her somewhere in Kankakee, she was out in the middle of nowhere. The morning sun barely crept over the cornstalk-flooded horizon that was still gripped by the previous evening’s fog. His deep crimson eyes settled on the vehicles in the driveway, two trucks and a ‘69 Chevy Camaro, then drifted up to look at the farmhouse. The Camaro had seen better days, having a little rust and the faded paint showed its age. He didn’t need to see her car though; he sensed her inside, her presence drawing him closer to the worn wooden-shingled home. As he came to a stop, he stood looking at the old wooden screen door on the back porch and watched in anticipation.

The door swung open and out Raven stepped. Her emerald-green eyes looked right at him—no, through him—as she surveyed the property. The half-breed was hunting something, Damien thought. She hopped off the porch, making her way up the gravel path that lined the cornfields. Damien followed closely, staying a few steps behind her. He intended to remain hidden as he always had, but today something gnawed at him. The closer they came to the barn, the more he felt that something wasn’t right. Without further thought, his next step brought him out into the open right behind her, purposely kicking at the gravel to alert her of his arrival. Raven spun, reaching behind her back in a continuous fluid movement, pulling one of her daggers from under her jacket.

I wondered how long it would take for you to pop up. Her grip on the dagger’s handle tightened. If you’re here to cash in your favor, now is a bad time, I’m kind of busy.

So you are. His eyes locked on hers, and a small, amused smirk spreading across his lips. I’m not here for that. I’m here to observe.

Raven’s eyebrows rose, her attention momentarily drawn up to the horns protruding out from his thick black hair. He had taken on a modern wardrobe yet had done nothing to hide his demonic features. Horns, sharp pointy nails, and deep red eyes? Would anyone believe her if she said he was practicing his cosplay? Just to watch?

Yes. He turned away from her, looking over the cornfield. Where exactly are we?

St. Anne, she replied, lowering her blade.

Alderney? he asked in response, turning back to her.

Alderney? she repeated in confusion. I don’t even know—no. Illinois. Raven shook her head and turned, heading once more to the barn.

Damien’s smirk widened into a grin. You shouldn’t turn your back to the enemy, he pointed out, following her.

Enemy? She glanced over her shoulder. You aren’t my enemy yet. Right now, you’re just someone I owe a debt. It wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest to hurt me or let harm come to me. Is that why you’re here?

As I said, I’m here to watch. Don’t let me distract you, he encouraged, staying a few paces behind her. Pretend I’m not here.

She glanced over her shoulder at him again before stopping and pressing her hand against the barn door, sliding it open just enough to slip inside. Light poured into the dark barn illuminating what waited inside. Slowly, Raven scanned over to the scattered bodies on the ground. Without hesitation, she moved over to one of the men, crouching next to him. Reaching down, she lifted his shaggy hair away from the side of his face revealing a stain of blood that trailed from his ear and down his neck. She then moved her fingers to check for a pulse. Nothing.

Standing up straight, she tilted her head back and stared up into the barn’s rafters and hay loft. Come on, she whispered under her breath, turning on her heels as she looked around. I know you’re still here," she mumbled.

There was a high-pitched squawk of sound, quick and brief. It was enough to draw Raven’s attention to one of the corners of the barn, just in time to see her target jumping down from the loft. Out of the darkness came a lithe middle-aged woman. Her bare feet thumped on the straw-scattered dirt. The woman’s lips parted, allowing another squawk to push out from her vocal cords.

Raven cringed, taking a step back, luring the disheveled woman into the light from the gap of the sliding barn door. Her pale grey skin was almost transparent, giving a clear view of dark veins just under the surface. Darkness framed milky-white eyes half hidden by stark black hair. She reached out toward Raven with bony fingers tipped with sickly-elongated nails that almost matched the length of the outstretched digits. Fully exposed, old scars could be seen from cuts, stab wounds, and bullet holes. A light, ethereal glow saturated her entire body and hair. Though Raven had never encountered one before, she knew from the lore she studied that she was in the presence of the banshee Olivia said she would find.

Damien leaned against one of the support beams, folding his arms as he continued to observe. The banshee opened its mouth as wide as it could. Raven instinctively began to raise her hands to her ears. As the banshee started to wail, Raven twisted her hand and flicked her dagger it at the screaming woman. The blade zipped through the air and the continuous ear-shattering screech came to a sudden wheezing end. The banshee raised both her hands in surprise, grasping at her throat and the blade protruding from her neck.

Raven ran forward and grabbed the hilt of the dagger, jerking her hand to the side as she ripped it out. The runed blade tore the banshee’s neck wide open, bringing a gush of discolored blood a she collapsed to the ground. With the main artery severed, it took only seconds before the banshee stilled, becoming limp.

Enjoying the show? Raven asked, half glancing over at Damien as she hurried to see if any of the banshee’s other victims had survived. Turning the first one over revealed five puncture wounds to his chest. She ghosted her fingers over the injuries. She knew banshees weren’t known for violence. But they were heralds of death, able to predict when someone was going to die, and it was rare to catch sight of one. Raven inspected the banshee’s claws, then looked back to the puncture marks. Why it had attacked wasn’t clear. Nothing in the house had appeared out of the ordinary, and there were no signs of a ritual having been performed in the barn.

What show? That wasn’t much of a show. It ended way too quickly. Damien sighed, watching her as she moved from body to body in the hope that someone might still be alive. He already knew the answer, but he allowed her to discover it on her own.

What did you want me to do? She glared up at him. Run at the screaming banshee and engage in hand-to-hand combat, when her opening move was to stand still and scream? I think I handled it just fine. She paused. No one survived, she commented, peering over at the banshee’s body.

Atreus, Raven called out as she stood up. In midair, sparks gave way to rolling waves of flame, and the hellhound slinked into place next to the Dark Nephilim, his crimson eyes meeting Damien’s. Hey, boy, she greeted the demonic beast, running her fingers over the top of his leathery head, swooping them around to the back of his ear and giving it a little scratch. He was large with a strong physique and stood next to her protectively in Damien’s presence.

Atreus knew what Raven wanted; their connection had grown ever stronger, he knew even before she had summoned him to her side. As soon as his mistress’s affectionate touch lifted from the velvet fur of his ear, the large wolf-like hound stalked over to the banshee’s body. His paws pressed down on it, holding it still. He tore into skin and muscle, his enlarged canines sinking into scarred flesh, ripping it away and consuming it. Each bite more fevered than the last, blood soaking his muzzle and paws with each stripping of flesh. Soon, his teeth scraped against bone. The hellhound kept eating away until a large section of the ribcage was exposed. He then bit down carefully on each rib, snapping them one by one.

You’ve taken to that bond fairly well. How do your guardians feel about that? Damien asked curiously, unfazed by the hellhound’s feeding. Where are they today?

Aidan and Zaida are wary. Except for Owen, he’s warmed up to Atreus. As for where they are… they want to know if I can handle this on my own. She eyed Damien dubiously; unsure she should be answering him. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to. Showing up and talking to her like they were old friends.

Reaching into her inner jacket pocket, she pulled out a zip-seal freezer bag and shook it at the hellhound. Atreus’s ears twitched, and he switched from tearing out the banshee’s lung to consuming one of its thighs, ripping into flesh and opening a fresh stream of dark blood further soaking the ground.

Raven stepped over to the banshee’s corpse, kneeling next to it. Setting the freezer bag aside for a moment, she cut away what remained of the lung, then gently grasped the banshee’s heart with one hand to hold it still as she severed the connective arteries and veins. Setting the dripping dagger aside, she picked the freezer bag back up, shook it open, and slid the heart inside, zipping it closed.

Starting a personal collection of magical goods? Damien asked.

Nah, I owe a witch for some ingredients. After this… Raven lifted the bag I’d say she and I are even.

You’re in debt to a witch?

Yeah, long story, Raven answered, standing, and then walking over to a bucket of water. It looked clear, so she used it to clean up her blade and hands. I know you said you weren’t here to cash in on that favor, but… she began, looking over at the hellhound as he continued to devour the banshee. I’m curious if you’ve put any thought into it?

Looking up, she found that Damien was gone. Great, she mumbled, looking around the barn. Alright, Atreus, it’s time to get out of here before someone else finds us.

She made her way over to the wall under the hayloft, pulling a piece of black chalk from her pocket as she walked. This was her life now, she thought, killing monsters and when the situation called for it, setting fire to the evidence that indicated anything supernatural had ever happened. She worried about the fact that Atreus had torn a hole in the body’s chest cavity. A fire would not hide that grisly a wound. She shook her head and proceeded to draw out a set of runes onto the old wooden barn wall. With the last stroke, they lit up in amber hues, igniting in flames. The fire ran up the walls, engulfed the support beams, and began burning through the stored hay.

Raven turned on the heels of her boots, glancing at Atreus. Come on. The feasting hound snorted, causing the bloody slop his muzzle was buried in to gurgle and bubble. The hellhound raised his head and looked at Raven, discolored vital fluids pouring from the hound’s mouth, dripping down onto the corpse. Having picked up on Raven’s thoughts and seeing what she had done to start the fire, Atreus took it upon himself to add to the blaze. The hellhound took a deep breath, amber hues lit up his chest cavity and emblazoned his eyes right before he let forth an onslaught of flames across the banshee’s corpse. Hellfire would destroy even bone, preventing investigators from asking: who pried the woman’s chest open and why?

Heading to the sliding door, she stooped down, scooping up the zip-seal bag. The two exited the burning barn, heading down the path along the cornstalks to the car. She extended two fingers toward her companion as they walked. You know Aiden will bitch if you get blood all over the seats again, she pointed out, amused at the thought.

Atreus huffed, taking his leave in