Son of Angels

By Cléa Malherbe

The Nephilim, descended from Angels, live secretly among humans and do not hesitate to abuse their powers. Recruited by the Angelologists, the Nephilim's arch-enemies, Andrew is tasked with infiltrating one of their most powerful families. Determined to fight the creatures who had murdered his entire family, the young man gets close to the two-thousand-year-old Alexander Rajneesh, one of the most feared members of the family. However, Rajneesh turns out to be very different from what Andrew had imagined. Torn between the importance of his mission and his growing feelings for the Nephilim, the young man will have to choose...

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Aug 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667460895

Book preview

1

Andrew, are you really sure about this? murmured Tania, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The young man did not move, his eyes staring into the dark alleyway that bordered the side of the building they were in. He counted the piles of rubbish; the old abandoned furniture; the dark corners that the distant streetlights of the main street failed to illuminate. He used to play in this alley: he had even had some pleasant moments there. That was before his entire family was slaughtered by Nephilim. Andrew took a deep breath and turned away. He smiled at Tania in his characteristically gentle manner.

I'm quite sure, he said in his calm voice. I'll do whatever it takes.

If you're found out... Tania let out anxiously.

Andrew smiled.

It won't happen. Trust me, they will never suspect me.

You scare me, Andrew. You shouldn't underestimate them, especially him. He's very smart and very observant. He'll stop at nothing to get you to spill everything if he finds out.

What does it matter? I don't know anything, Andrew smiled again with the same calmness.

Tania shook her head in disapproval. Her eyes clouded over.

Do I have to remind you about what they did to my mother when they captured her?

Andrew sighed. He gently took the young woman by the shoulders and kissed her forehead, before pulling her close.

I'll be careful, I promise. I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be fine.

Tania suddenly stepped back. She took several paces, then took a long look at the frail, blond man standing in front of her. He exuded a gentleness and kindness that Tania had rarely seen. Despite his youth, there was something deeply reassuring about him and nothing seemed easier than to snuggle in the safety of his arms. Tania knew that he had this effect on everyone he met, but their reactions varied. Some instinctively trusted him: others just as instinctively despised him. In any case, Andrew left no one indifferent, especially not his mentor among the Angelologists. Tania forced herself to shake it off.

Once you're there, you'll be on your own for three weeks, she said dryly. After that, the number I gave you will be activated and you can contact me. We'll see how far you’ve gotten at that time. Remind me of your mission, please.

Andrew rolled his eyes, but he answered with a smile.

To get hired as a servant in the Rajneesh household, to gain their trust - especially Alexander Rajneesh’s - and to learn all I can before I kill him. Have I forgotten anything?

Tania did not argue. She pushed a lock of dark hair back behind her ear, then turned away. She picked up her bag, which she had thrown on the rough sofa when she arrived, and slung it over her shoulder. She had a feeling that if she didn't leave right away, she would try to hold Andrew back.

See you soon, she said, not quite able to hide her emotion.

See you soon, the young man replied gently.

He watched the door close and slowly settled into an armchair, which was as dingy as the rest of the apartment. He glanced at his watch. 10pm. It was going to be a long night and he still needed to sleep. He couldn't afford to fail the job interview the next day. Getting this job would be the culmination of years of thinking about the best way to avenge his family; the most effective way to reach the Nephilim; and how to cause the most damage to them. There was no hatred in him, not even anger, just the haunting thought that this was his destiny.

2

Andrew diligently cleaned the tiny layer of dust that had settled on one of the tables from the day before. With his cloth in hand, he paused for a moment, looking around in admiration. He had been working as a servant for a week and was still not jaded by the magnificence of the Rajneesh mansion. The gigantic hall shone with marble and gold, and with knick-knacks and masterpieces all worth a fortune. Despite his extensive research into the Nephilim family, he had not realised how rich they were until he saw it with his own eyes, and he had only explored the ground floor.

This was reserved for the least important people; the servants' quarters and a host of other lowly material things. On the first floor were the Anakim, and only they were allowed to serve the Nephilim directly. Ordinary humans were never allowed to cross the barrier of the grand staircase. Andrew had overheard the servants talking and managed to learn that the second floor was reserved for guests, while the family occupied the top floors: Alexander Rajneesh on the third; his sister Elizabeth, her husband and their children on the fourth; his brother Owen and his mistresses on the fifth; and at the top, his mother, Morgan. Andrew knew that this distribution had a hierarchical symbolism and he was surprised that Alexander Rajneesh was so low in this hierarchy despite his reputation and all that he had already accomplished for the Nephilim.

He had been even more surprised to discover the contemptuous way in which the servants spoke about him. They feared him, of course, but not in the same way as the rest of the Rajneesh family. This puzzled Andrew to no end, as it totally contradicted the Angelologists' information about the family's inner workings. Unfortunately he could not investigate further at that moment. The Nephilim avoided humans and, since his arrival, Andrew had only had one glimpse of them when Morgan and Owen went out to a party, attractive and elegantly dressed, chatting quietly. He'd seen other Nephilim before them and hadn't been surprised by their beauty, but more by their venomous, almost irresistible charm.

Andrew turned away from the pedestal table and continued on his way to a statue of a cherub that stood at the foot of the stairs. He had to hurry. The head of the household was very strict about time and he couldn't afford to get into trouble. His infiltration might take much longer than expected and he had to fit in as well as possible.

As he prepared to put his cloth away and head to the kitchen to help with the meal, he heard the large front door open behind him. Winter entered the cosy building with a chilly blast and Andrew instinctively turned, shivering. Immediately something contracted in his stomach. Alexander Rajneesh was standing a few steps away from him. He couldn't help but devour him with his eyes.

The Nephilim was as tall and slender as his relatives, his long body exuded an attractive grace. His face was chiselled like a statue, framed by a mass of messy dark hair, and his eyes possessed a dark blue that was very peculiar, even for a being of his race. The main difference between him and the other Nephilim, however, was the way his shoulders were hunched as he leaned heavily on his elegant cane. His pale features were hollowed out by suffering. Despite his elegant clothes and the cold assurance of his expression, there was something vulnerable and almost...human about him.

Andrew bit his lower lip. The Angelologists had known for some years that the Nephilim had fallen ill, plagued by a mysterious ailment that weakened him and prevented him from acting in the field as he had once been used to, but he and his comrades had never suspected that the creature would be so seriously affected. It was the first note for his report to Tania.

Andrew flinched. Alexander Rajneesh's eyes were on him and he was staring at him with a hint of curiosity. Andrew immediately bowed his head in humility. Rajneesh soon turned away. As he headed for the stairs, his wet shoes slipped on the spotless tiles and he fell violently. Andrew took two steps towards him, then stood still, hesitating. Rajneesh had regained his composure, leaning on one elbow, but he couldn't seem to get up, grimacing in pain. He fell back hard, hitting his forehead. There was no one else in the hall. The opportunity was too good to pass up. Andrew rushed forward.

He threw himself on his knees beside the Nephilim. He could see that Rajneesh was trembling with pain with his eyelids tightly shut and his hands clenched on his thighs. His teeth were clenched so tightly that his jaw protruded from his graceful face, while an evil sweat beaded on his pale forehead. He was panting and he occasionally let out a low moan from his throat. He seemed to be in agony and Andrew felt a pang of pity, which he immediately dismissed. He touched the Nephilim's arm carefully.

My lord, what shall I do? he asked humbly.

Rajneesh did not answer, cowering more and more inwardly, and Andrew was sure he had not even heard him. He hesitated for a few seconds, then gathered his courage and placed his hands on one of the Nephilim's thighs. Even through the fabric of the trousers he could feel the twitching that ran up and down his muscles. Rajneesh's suffering was more understandable. He was experiencing dozens of simultaneous cramps. It must have been excruciating.

Andrew ran a hand through his hair, glanced around hesitantly, and then decided to take a chance. Gently pushing aside one of Rajneesh's clenched hands, he began to massage one of his thighs to soothe the contractions. Two seconds later, the Nephilim jerked up abruptly and grabbed him by the collar with violence.

How dare you touch me? he growled angrily.

Andrew recoiled in fear.

I was only trying to help you, my lord! he said, defending himself in panic.

Help me...? Rajneesh repeated with evil disbelief. Help me...

He shook his head and fell back abruptly with a groan, burying his face in his hands. His tremors increased and despite his fear, Andrew forced himself to resume his massage. Rajneesh groaned in pain, but he did not struggle. Gradually the tension eased in the Nephilim's muscles as Andrew meticulously kneaded them. Eventually Rajneesh relaxed completely, breathing heavily, visibly exhausted. Still slumped on the icy floor, he did not move, his eyes still closed. Andrew was hesitating on what to do when an angry voice came over him.

Get away from my son, you vermin!

Andrew jumped back, his heart pounding with fear. Morgan Rajneesh ran down the stairs at an inhuman pace. She glared at him and Andrew bowed his head. All it would take was one word from the head of the family for him to be skinned alive, if she misinterpreted his behaviour... However, Morgan straightened up her son ruthlessly. Rajneesh opened his eyes again, with obvious effort. His mother glared at him.

I told you not to go out! Anything could have happened to you! You've got more important things to do than hang around with humans!

I needed some fresh air, her son murmured in a hushed voice. I can't stand being cooped up in there. I can't think anymore...

I don't care! replied Morgan. We gave you a mission, damn it! How much longer do we have to wait for you to take an interest?

I already told you that...

Silence! she cut him off curtly.

Alexander Rajneesh lowered his eyes, visibly humiliated, but no longer having the energy to defend himself. Showing superhuman strength, Morgan brutally put him back on his feet and stuck his cane in his hand. Andrew had to suppress an instinctive movement towards the Nephilim as he wobbled dangerously before he could stand. Morgan leapt towards Andrew so suddenly that he did not know what was happening until he was on his knees. The Nephilim's hand was in his hair, bringing tears of pain to his eyes.

What did that dog do to you? she asked her son.

Alexander Rajneesh slowly lowered his blurred gaze to Andrew. He looked at him for a moment, then shook his head.

Nothing. He didn't do anything to me. He just asked if I needed help.

Morgan raised her eyebrows in astonishment, then snorted contemptuously and pushed Andrew away. Her strength was so great that the young man fell flat on his face. He hit his chin hard and bit his tongue, the taste of blood immediately spilling into his mouth. The pain made him groan. Morgan kicked him dismissively in the side.

Get back to work, dog!

Andrew hurried to obey, leaping to his feet. He gave a low bow to the two Nephilim.

Thank you, my Lady, he stammered.

He ran off without further ado.

3

After the incident, Andrew was on alert for two whole days, but to his great relief Morgan seemed to have forgotten about it by then. He, however, could not get over it. Alexander Rajneesh's condition, his mother's treatment of him, this mission she had mentioned... It was all swirling around in his head and he couldn't wait to give Tania all of this information.

Lying in bed with his hands crossed under his neck, Andrew counted the days until his first telephone contact with the Angelologist. In the bed below him, one of the kitchen boys was snoring loudly. Further away, one of the cooks was reading by the light of his torch. There were three other people in the small room and the atmosphere was heavy.

The room was in the basement, without windows, next to the boiler, so the temperature was very high. Andrew was only wearing his boxers and a T-shirt. He had pushed off all the blankets, but that didn't stop him from sweating. He hated this confined atmosphere, but it wasn't in his nature to rebel against something he couldn't help. He had wanted this mission. It was too late to whine about its downsides.

Andrew was beginning to doze off, his thoughts wandering in dark meanderings, when the door opened suddenly. Light flooded into the room, startling Andrew, waking up some of his roommates. Straightening up uneasily, the young man saw an Anakim looking down at them with contempt. The creature's gaze passed over each of them, then stopped at Andrew. The young man felt his throat tighten. The Anakim waved his chin dismissively.

You, come with me. Hurry up.

A long shiver ran down Andrew's back, but he knew it was useless to disobey. He slid down the bed, reaching for his clothes. The Anakim stamped his foot impatiently.

No time! Come on, it said.

The creature grabbed him by the arm, dragging him out of the room under the suspicious and sleepy eyes of the others.

Andrew hadn't even had time to put on slippers and was running half-heartedly to keep up with the Anakim whose fingers were crushing his forearm, his feet freezing. They finally reached a lift with gleaming steel doors. The Anakim pushed Andrew inside, then pressed the button for a floor. Andrew wasn’t able to identify which one. Anxiety suddenly rose in him and he could not help questioning his threatening companion.

Where... where are you taking me? he stammered. Have I done something?

He didn't answer and Andrew tucked his head slightly into his shoulders. This time it was the end. Morgan must have decided to get rid of him for daring to touch a Nephilim. Or maybe she had discovered his true identity... Either way, he was done for.

After sweating, he was now shivering, the frozen ground burning the soles of his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to suppress his tremors. The lift was already coming to a halt when its doors opened with a clang. The Anakim pushed him forward and Andrew discovered a long, darkened corridor. He could make out the shapes of paintings and works of art, but he couldn't see enough to appreciate their quality. A thick carpet sank beneath his steps, the only light filtered in under a door, in front of which the Anakim stopped. He knocked, waited in vain for a few seconds, then took a deep breath, opened it and pushed Andrew in.

Despite his terror, the young man stood for a few seconds in awe of the size of the dwelling that opened up before him. It must have occupied a good part of the floor, consisting of a single, ginormous room. The walls were covered with books, superb chandeliers hung from the ceiling, a magnificent black piano was enthroned on a small platform, and everywhere were drapes, refined furniture, shimmering sofas, luxurious trinkets and delicate works of art. It looked like the lair of some eccentric who had accumulated all the beautiful things he had ever desired in his life.

The first thing that really caught Andrew's eye in this abundance was a large mahogany desk covered with papers, parchments, books and a state-of-the-art computer: a clutter that seemed to testify to intense intellectual work. The second was Alexander Rajneesh. The Nephilim was lying on a large sofa that served as his bed. Curled up on his side, he was panting in pain as he stared at Andrew with his blue eyes. With a violent effort, he sat up. He was half bent over in pain, both arms around his stomach. He nodded towards the Anakim.

Leave us...

His voice sounded like a whimper, but there was still an authority in it. The Anakim bowed deeply.

Yes, my lord.

He gave Andrew another threatening look and left the room. Rajneesh closed his eyes for a moment, then fixed his gaze on Andrew again.

Come here, he murmured wearily.

Andrew reluctantly obeyed, not understanding what he was doing there, distressed. Rajneesh wiped the sweat from his upper lip with a trembling hand. Stepping forward, Andrew saw that his eyes were bloodshot, looking as though he were wearing makeup as the Nephilim was so exhausted. He was shivering constantly and seemed to be on edge. Andrew bit the inside of his cheek. He had to be careful with his words.

Twenty-four hours, the Nephilim whispered, staring at the floor. It's been twenty-four hours and the pain hasn't subsided. I can't go on like this...

He looked up. Andrew shuddered at the intensity of his gaze.

I want you to massage me, the Nephilim announced abruptly.

Andrew could not suppress a shudder of surprise.

I asked my Anakim, Rajneesh continued, painfully removing the dressing gown that enveloped him. But he's no good at anything. You do it better than him.

Andrew swallowed, but once again he couldn't pass up such an opportunity to get closer to his enemy. He took a hesitant step forward.

Where shall I massage you, my lord? Where does it hurt?

Rajneesh gave a bitter sneer. He was wearing a thin pair of silk boxer shorts and Andrew could see the marks of disease on his thinned body, his skin so pale that it was almost translucent.

Everywhere, breathed the Nephilim. It hurts all over... But you can start with my back. There's some massage oil right there...

He pointed to a coffee table. Andrew picked up the bottle. Gently, he helped the Nephilim lie on his stomach. He was shocked to discover two slits in the creature's back. Two wing stumps protruded from them, blackened, swollen, and probably very painful. He had seen many depictions of Rajneesh, all of them showed him with beautiful, black, shiny wings. What kind of disease could have destroyed him so badly? This was not the time to dwell on such thoughts.

Andrew applied some oil, leaned over the Nephilim's shoulders and began to dig into his terribly contracted muscles. He saw Rajneesh's eyelids tighten as his fists clenched, his black claws scratching the precious fabric of the sofa. Immediately Andrew suspended his movements with fear. Rajneesh opened his eyes again.

Go on, he breathed in a barely audible voice.

Andrew took a deep breath and obeyed. Turning his gaze away from Rajneesh's face, he forced himself to concentrate on the muscles in his back, rolling and kneading them until they finally relaxed. It took him a very long time, but he had the satisfaction of hearing the Nephilim's hurried breathing gradually subside. He carefully avoided the wing stumps and finally withdrew his hands and stood aside. Rajneesh heaved a deep sigh and sat upright on his forearms. He sat up painfully.

My legs, he murmured.

Andrew obediently knelt before him and began skillfully massaging his thighs and calves. Rajneesh let his head roll back for a moment, his eyes closed, and then he grabbed a packet of cigarettes from the sofa and lit one. From that moment, Andrew felt that he could not take his eyes off of him. Despite his embarrassment, the young man fervently continued his task until he could feel every muscle in Rajneesh's right leg relax. He then moved on to the left leg and, again, it took him a very long time to get a proper result. When he finally stopped, his hands and arms were beginning to ache. He straightened up and his gaze fell straight into Rajneesh's. The Nephilim was perfectly impassive, but his scrutinising gaze made Andrew blush. The silence lingered for a moment, eerie.

Where did you learn to massage like that?

Andrew made a vague gesture.

I studied to be a physiotherapist, my lord.

Rajneesh shook his head.

I've been to dozens of physiotherapists. None of them have ever done me that much good. No, there's something else about you. I don't know, your gentleness perhaps...

Astonished, Andrew did not know what to say. Rajneesh stood up abruptly, forcing Andrew back. Limping painfully, he walked to a luxurious bar. He pulled a bottle of champagne from a small fridge and filled two glasses before graciously handing one to Andrew. Andrew accepted it with a mix of astonishment and gratitude. He was dying of thirst. Rajneesh gently clinked his glass against Andrew’s.

To your golden hands, the Nephilim smiled. It was the first smile Andrew had seen on his lips since he had met him.

The young man bowed with embarrassment.

Thank you, my lord.

Rajneesh turned away again. He swallowed half his cup in one gulp, then walked back to the bar and retrieved a box of chocolates. He bit into one with obvious pleasure and