Seduced by Lies by Alex Lux Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alex Lux
Father Patrick said.
"Designed? Like someone made them?” I asked.
"Yes," he said, his face grim.
"The Church?" I couldn’t fathom this. I wasn’t Catholic, despite Father Patrick’s best attempts to save my soul. Growing up in foster care, the old priest had been the only stable father figure I had, and his Church the only real home I knew, but his religion never quite settled in me. Still, I had a hard time imagining the Catholic Church as Enemy Number One. "Designed to kill who?"
"A special kind of being." Father Patrick turned another page, showing an image of a man with wings. "Nephilim," he said, pointing to the picture. "The offspring of angels and humans."
But that means… "I remember reading about them. God sent the flood to destroy them, but saved Noah and his family. But, that can't be true, can it?"
"It happened a long time ago, and even I am not old enough to remember that," he smiled.
Father Patrick may not be old enough, but shifters could live a long time. Was it possible someone still lived from those ancient days? My head spun as my world suffered a huge paradigm shift, like a psychic earthquake displacing lifelong held ideas of truth and upturning everything. This is how Sam must have felt when she found out the truth about her school and home.
Father Patrick continued. "Some believe that those with supernatural or paranormal abilities are descended from the Nephilim."
"That's why we have powers?" I asked. "Because we're related to angels?"
Father Patrick shrugged. "The Church believes it is so."
"What about you?" I held my breath, waiting.
"Yes, I do believe. I think Sam’s father, Mr. Steele, had found a way to tap into Nephilim power and pass it on to others. That's how he created paranormals."
"Is that why the Bishop and Ryder are here?" The pieces started to click together. "To destroy us like the Nephilim?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, I don't believe so."
Another piece clicked into place, and I shuddered. "This lycan, the one murdering people…" I paused. "It's targeting paranormals."
N INE
Is It Not Monstrous
R OSE
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
That from her working all the visage wann'd,
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
NOTHING ABOUT THIS experience was particularly comforting. The fact that the drunk, stoned meth head was the only one carrying a weapon didn’t help my nerves. At least I had my own power as a shifter. Still, even a wolf could be killed with a bullet. And Billy didn't seem to like me.
The sun had already set, casting dark purple shadows over us as we walked through the woods. The moon hung high in the sky and white mist hovered around our ankles. I felt like I was in a horror movie.
"Should we call for some help?" Curtis put a hand on my shaking arm.
"No," I whispered. "My shifting and your speed can handle one animal." I didn't tell him that I doubted we'd find anything more than tracks. Why would a killer return to the scene of the crime?
We were in a valley, surrounded by mountains. When we got near the enclave, Billy froze. “The demon’s gonna get us. We should go back.”
I reluctantly put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s our job to destroy the demon, remember?”
His body shook, but he nodded and moved forward, holding his shotgun out with an unsteady hand. I locked eyes with Curtis, both of us more scared of the guy with the gun than any demon, even if the demon thing was real.
Another unbidden memory hit me. Blake, Demon Blake, dying after taking my dark power away, freeing me from my curse. Not all demons were evil.
I wiped at the tear on my cheek and took another step, sniffing the air. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the smell of our companion, normal animal smells, but no wolves.
And then…
I smelled something. Another human. But who would be
"Designed? Like someone made them?” I asked.
"Yes," he said, his face grim.
"The Church?" I couldn’t fathom this. I wasn’t Catholic, despite Father Patrick’s best attempts to save my soul. Growing up in foster care, the old priest had been the only stable father figure I had, and his Church the only real home I knew, but his religion never quite settled in me. Still, I had a hard time imagining the Catholic Church as Enemy Number One. "Designed to kill who?"
"A special kind of being." Father Patrick turned another page, showing an image of a man with wings. "Nephilim," he said, pointing to the picture. "The offspring of angels and humans."
But that means… "I remember reading about them. God sent the flood to destroy them, but saved Noah and his family. But, that can't be true, can it?"
"It happened a long time ago, and even I am not old enough to remember that," he smiled.
Father Patrick may not be old enough, but shifters could live a long time. Was it possible someone still lived from those ancient days? My head spun as my world suffered a huge paradigm shift, like a psychic earthquake displacing lifelong held ideas of truth and upturning everything. This is how Sam must have felt when she found out the truth about her school and home.
Father Patrick continued. "Some believe that those with supernatural or paranormal abilities are descended from the Nephilim."
"That's why we have powers?" I asked. "Because we're related to angels?"
Father Patrick shrugged. "The Church believes it is so."
"What about you?" I held my breath, waiting.
"Yes, I do believe. I think Sam’s father, Mr. Steele, had found a way to tap into Nephilim power and pass it on to others. That's how he created paranormals."
"Is that why the Bishop and Ryder are here?" The pieces started to click together. "To destroy us like the Nephilim?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, I don't believe so."
Another piece clicked into place, and I shuddered. "This lycan, the one murdering people…" I paused. "It's targeting paranormals."
N INE
Is It Not Monstrous
R OSE
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
That from her working all the visage wann'd,
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
NOTHING ABOUT THIS experience was particularly comforting. The fact that the drunk, stoned meth head was the only one carrying a weapon didn’t help my nerves. At least I had my own power as a shifter. Still, even a wolf could be killed with a bullet. And Billy didn't seem to like me.
The sun had already set, casting dark purple shadows over us as we walked through the woods. The moon hung high in the sky and white mist hovered around our ankles. I felt like I was in a horror movie.
"Should we call for some help?" Curtis put a hand on my shaking arm.
"No," I whispered. "My shifting and your speed can handle one animal." I didn't tell him that I doubted we'd find anything more than tracks. Why would a killer return to the scene of the crime?
We were in a valley, surrounded by mountains. When we got near the enclave, Billy froze. “The demon’s gonna get us. We should go back.”
I reluctantly put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s our job to destroy the demon, remember?”
His body shook, but he nodded and moved forward, holding his shotgun out with an unsteady hand. I locked eyes with Curtis, both of us more scared of the guy with the gun than any demon, even if the demon thing was real.
Another unbidden memory hit me. Blake, Demon Blake, dying after taking my dark power away, freeing me from my curse. Not all demons were evil.
I wiped at the tear on my cheek and took another step, sniffing the air. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the smell of our companion, normal animal smells, but no wolves.
And then…
I smelled something. Another human. But who would be