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  NEPHILIM

  The Seventh Day Series Book Two

  By Leslie Swartz

  Copyright 2019, Leslie Swartz

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020903738

  ISBN: 9781697004052

  The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.

  Charles Dickens

  Prologue

  King Gevar paced the floor, the Mead Hall empty but for him. He grew impatient, his spies having told him of Chief Thryme’s plan to invade nearly a month before. He downed a cup of ale, but it did little to calm his nerves.

  Light poured into the room as the door swung open, making it difficult to see the man stepping inside. As the king’s eyes adjusted, he was relieved to see the blacksmith edging closer, dragging a wagon overflowing with swords.

  “You’ve done it!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t believe it possible! How did you manage to create so many Ulfberhts in only a month’s time?”

  “I don’t sleep,” the man replied.

  The king laughed and poured him a drink. “Come! I can think of no one more deserving of a pint than you.”

  He took the cup with no intention of imbibing it’s contents and nodded politely. “Thank you.” The king offered him a leather purse heavy with coins, but he refused it. “I require no payment. Only the assurance that you will do everything in your power to keep your people safe.”

  “But I must pay you,” Gevar insisted, inspecting the weapons. “These are impeccable. The work you put in to them merits reward. If not coin, what would you have as compensation?”

  “I need nothing,” he claimed, his voice stern. It was then that the king noticed how piercing the man’s azure eyes were through wisps of blond hair, striking as they seemed to look right through him. The blacksmith turned to go. “I should be getting home.”

  “Wait,” Gevar commanded. “If you will not take silver, you must at least honor me by attending my daughter’s wedding tomorrow. It will be here at sunset. You shall be my guest.” The man thought for a moment, tightening the strap around the hammer that hung from his belt before nodding in agreement and taking his leave.

  Hodr came upon a buck drinking peacefully from the stream, oblivious to the hunter and his intention. He pulled back on his bow, but before he could release the arrow, the snapping of branches startled him and the deer, which sprinted off, unharmed. Laughter wafted through the air from behind and as he turned, his annoyance turned to joy.

  “Nanna,” he greeted, a wide smile brightening his face.

  “Beloved,” she beamed, hurrying toward her betrothed. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly.

  “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be preparing?”

  “I will,” she said. “I just needed to see you.” She kissed him again, her skin warm with desire as she ran her hands over his chest before untying her cloak.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, looking around for intruders.

  “Just offering a taste of what’s to come,” she teased, opening her cloak to reveal the smooth, alabaster form underneath.

  “Someone could see us.”

  “These are your family’s private hunting grounds. No one will find us here,” she reassured him, pawing at his belt.

  “Your father would kill me.”

  “He wouldn’t dare break his only daughter’s heart the day before her wedding. Tomorrow, we’ll be married, expected to start providing heirs to my father’s throne. This is the only chance we have for it to just be about us.” She took his hand and placed it on her backside, pressing her body to his. “Be with me.”

  He relented, grabbing her tightly and kissing her hard. As he struggled to get his trousers down, they were interrupted by an unnatural sounding growl.

  “Who’s there?” Hodr called in to the forest. Nanna covered herself quickly, her strawberry locks whipping in the cool autumn wind as they both scanned the woods for signs of life. They heard the odd snarling again, but couldn’t place where it was coming from. Hodr readied his bow.

  “It’s only me,” a voice called from beyond the trees. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows.

  “Baldr?” Nanna asked. “I hardly recognize you. What happened to your face?”

  He looked pale, gaunt and sickly, not like the man that disappeared several months before.

  “This man,” Baldr said, slamming his hand to his chest as he stepped closer. “Has complicated feelings when it comes to you.”

  “You know this person?” Hodr asked.

  “I used to,” she admitted. “His uncle is the chief of the village across the lake. My father had arranged a marriage between us to keep the peace, but--”

  “She found him to be brutish and lacking in proper hygiene,” Baldr huffed, his voice sounding pained and raspy, not at all how Nanna remembered it.

  “Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” Hodr wondered.

  “I refer to this,” Baldr replied, again banging on his chest. “The one you call ‘Baldr’.”

  “You should see a wound-healer,” Nanna told him. “You’re not making sense.”

  “Get behind me,” Hodr instructed.

  “What? Why?”

  “Do it, Nanna,” he commanded as he lifted his bow. “I do not think this creature is human.”

  “Guilty,” the demon inside Baldr confirmed. “See, I only wanted to rape and pillage, but Baldr here has an intense desire to hurt the woman that broke his heart. He’s just in here,” he complained, pounding on the side of his head with his fist. “Screaming at me to do my worst. He wants death to come to you slow and bloody and he wants to feel these hands do the work of it. I will get no peace until it’s done.” He rushed toward the couple and as Nanna scurried behind her fiance, Hodr pulled back on his bow, releasing an arrow directly into the demon’s heart. Baldr fell, a strange, black shadow peeling away from him as he hit the ground. The frightened lovers fled into the woods, afraid that whatever had left him would attach itself to one of them next.

  That evening, Thryme, along with several of his most trusted soldiers, stormed into King Gevar’s Mead Hall where preparations were underway for Nanna’s wedding. He carried the body of his slain nephew on his shoulders until he reached the king’s table where he slammed it down in grief and rage.

  “Where is Hodr?!” he demanded. “Do not hide him from me. I will have vengeance!”

  “Is that Baldr?” the king asked. “What’s happened?”

  “Hodr, the one you allow to defile your daughter, put an arrow through his heart. This will not go unpunished.”

  “Are you sure it was Ho--”

  “Of course I’m sure!” Thryme shouted through his full, auburn beard. “I have spies everywhere. Now, give him to me!”

  “I don’t know where he is. He will be here tomorrow for the wedding. I’ll question him then.”

  “There will be a wedding here tomorrow, but it will not be his,” Thryme asserted. “If you wish to maintain peace between our lands, you have one choice. I will marry Nanna. She will give me sons, heirs to unite our people. Should she refuse, this time tomorrow, I will burn your village and every living thing in it to the ground.”

  King Gevar stood in stunned silence as Thryme lifted the corpse from the table and carried it back outside. His men followed, some glancing back at the king in derision, one even spitting on the floor. Gevar looked up toward his daughter’s private room where he could see her peeking her head out, tears streaming down her lightly freckled cheeks.

  The day of the wedding came. Guests filled the seats, ale flowed and the air smelled of boar. The blacksmith peered into the hall, taking note of Thryme’s men stationed on either end of the king’s table. He turned to see Hodr walking confidently to the building.


  “Are you suicidal?” the blacksmith asked, standing in the young man’s way.

  “I am not afraid of Chief Thryme or of his men,” Hodr proclaimed. “I am to be married today.”

  “I see. You do not wish to die, you’re simply an imbecile. Apologies.” He slammed his large fist down on the top of Hodr’s head, knocking him out cold. He then pulled the boy’s tunic over his face and carried him over his shoulder into the building and up the stairs to Nanna’s room. She was startled as the blacksmith dropped her fiance onto the bed and held his finger to his lips. “Stay here,” he told her. “No matter what you hear, do not open this door. Do you understand?” The girl nodded, rushing to close the door behind the man as he left.

  Thryme entered the hall, arrogance and body odor following him like sheep. The crowd stilled as they waited, all relieved, if not somewhat saddened to see Nanna descend from the stairs. She was as beautiful as she’d ever been, her soft hair flowing down her back, a silver bridal crown resting on her head. Her cheeks appeared flushed and her small but shapely frame was draped in the finest of fabrics. She approached her would-be husband, staring at him with such intensity that he began to feel uncomfortable.

  “Nanna,” he said. “You look lovely. I don’t remember your eyes being so--” There was a thud between them. The two looked down to see a hammer lying on the floor, just beneath Nanna’s dress. Thryme picked it up and handed it to her. “You dropped this,” he said, confused. “From your… lap?”

  “It was on my belt,” she corrected.

  “You’re not wearing a--”

  She brought the hammer back and swung it so hard into Thryme’s face that it came out the back of his head. He fell to the floor, blood and brain spilling onto the large wooden planks. The berserkers rushed her and as they pulled their weapons, Nanna’s appearance suddenly shifted from that of a young girl on her wedding day to that of the tall, muscular blacksmith. The man fought off three of the soldiers with his hammer, killing them with single blows to the head. As wedding guests fled, he seemed to create bolts of lightning from thin air and wield them as weapons, making light work of slaughtering the rest of Thryme’s men.

  As the smoke cleared, one man who had remained seated finished the last of his ale and began to clap. “Well done, brother,” he said as he stood.

  “Lucifer?”

  “They call me ‘Loki’ here. It means ‘lock’. I thought it somewhat fitting.”

  “Why are you here?” the blacksmith asked.

  “Why am I ever anywhere? A demon got loose, so I came to fetch it. Turns out, it’s been handled for me. Thryme, however, was a mess I should have cleaned up long ago. I appreciate your assistance, though I would have managed. Why are you here?”

  “I came to protect this village from a maniac and his blind followers. I provided arms to the king in the hopes of avoiding spilling any blood myself, but after thinking on it, I decided it was too risky. Thryme was too dangerous. What did he have to do with you?”

  “When his mother was pregnant with him, she became possessed,” Lucifer explained. “I removed the demon, but the woman didn’t survive. I should have left the child to die, as well. He’d been corrupted, his mind altered. But, I was weak and couldn’t bear it. I thought, given time and a proper influence, the boy could overcome his less desirable instincts. So, I tore him from his mother’s rotting womb and delivered him to his father. I’ve wondered for decades if I’d made the right decision. Clearly, I did not.”

  “I can hardly fault you for saving the life of an infant, Lucifer.”

  “Perhaps you can’t, but no doubt our Father’s been most disappointed in me.”

  “I doubt that,” the blacksmith said, putting his arm around his brother. “Do you know how many times I’ve strayed from God’s plan because I felt sorry for humans? Thousands. God still loves me and I’m not even His favorite. There is nothing you could do that He wouldn’t forgive.”

  “I appreciate you saying that. Thank you, Barachiel.”

  The brothers left the Hall, closing the doors behind them. They didn’t seem to notice King Gevar cowering under a table not ten feet from where they’d been talking or Nanna and Hodr spying from above. Gevar rose up and looked to his daughter, who now stood at the top of the stairs, quivering in fear and disbelief. The king clutched his chest, his hands and voice trembling as he said, his voice barely loud enough for the others to hear, “The man with the hammer…he controls the thunder.”

  Chapter 1

  Lucifer’s eyes slowly opened as he took back control of the body he’d abandoned nearly three years earlier. His amazement at the fact of it’s availability turned to anger when he realized how the feat had been accomplished.

  He pulled the oxygen mask from his face and choked, his esophagus burning as he gingerly removed the feeding tube from his throat. The satin sheet beneath him was stained and smelled of old sweat as did his clothes, the same slacks and button down he’d been wearing when he left. The garishly decorated room felt familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it. He felt lightheaded as he sat himself up, noticing his arm connected by needle and tube to two bags, one filled with saline and the other brimming with his own blood. He extracted the needles, his skin repairing the small punctures left behind. He threw back the blanket to reveal another disturbing discovery; he’d been cathed. His lips pursed and a low growl escaped his larynx as he removed the device, the sharp pain enraging him further. His body felt weak as he stood and pulled his pants up, his eyes adjusting to the dim light that peeked through dark curtains. He saw four men lying on cots opposite the ornate poster bed he’d been in. They, too, were on breathing machines, unconscious and joined to IV bags similar to his. He recognized them as host bodies of some of the demons that had attacked him and his siblings in Gabriel’s apartment. As he opened the door to the next room, a throne sitting at one end, bottles and paraphernalia littering tables and floor, he realized he knew exactly where he was.

  He seethed, “Allydia Cain.”

  “Lilith was a distraction,” Lucifer growled, pushing past Valerie, stumbling into her apartment and dropping himself onto her sofa.

  “You look like shit,” she commented, closing the door. “And smell worse.”

  “Good to see you, too, sister.”

  “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Hell, torturing people and shit?”

  “I don’t torture souls,” he corrected. “That’s a myth. Hell isn’t what I think you think it is.”

  “Whatever. Why do you look like you just got done with six rounds of chemo?”

  “It seems the vampire queen was keeping this body as an on demand food source while I was away. Remind me to wring that foul creature’s neck next time I see her.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I wish you people wouldn’t use that name as a way of conveying astonishment. It’s very confusing. As for why I’m here, tell me, have you had any visions lately?”

  “Just personal stuff like when I was in high school. Nothing important since you chucked Lilith back in her hole.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing,” he complained. “Perhaps you need a jump start.”

  She backed away. “The fuck you mean?”

  “Like a car battery. Just a little boost.” He rushed her, grabbing her head and transferring memories to her, hoping they would trigger a related premonition. He knew she’d be cross with him, but he was desperate.

  Her eyes grew wide as she was overwhelmed by information, the horrors of Hell flooding her mind, the despair of the damned like a weight on her chest.

  “I hope that wasn’t too unpleasant,” he said, letting go and stepping aside as she staggered toward the couch. “You must understand the urgency.” She nearly collapsed, but caught herself, unwilling to sit, instead turning back to her brother, rage twisting her features. She marched toward him, gaining strength with every step. He sighed, resigned to the coming punishment.

  She punched him in the nose. “This is
why I can’t stand you!”

  “Apologies,” he said, realigning his broken nasal bones as they began to heal and wiping away the blood with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I need to know where to begin my search. That thing you saw is more dangerous than Lilith. He doesn’t want to rule over humans; he wants to end them.”

  “Just close the Gate,” she condescended. “Demons get sucked back in. Problem solved.”

  “Demons, yes. But what I’m hunting is something else entirely. He was an angel of the highest order, tasked with gathering the materials of the Earth that God would use to create the first humans. He was a devoted servant of the Almighty and watched over our Father’s new creatures as a sort of guardian. This was, of course, before Barachiel was blinked into existence. He cared for God’s people like pets, tending to their needs when they could not. Teaching them how to hunt, showing them which plants were safe for consumption and providing comfort to them when they were hurt. He was kind to them. One might go as far as to say that he loved them. But, when the first son of man killed his brother, the angel was horrified. He never truly got over it.”

  “Are you talking about Cain and Abel?” Valerie asked. “That was real?”

  “Indeed. As the humans multiplied and had their inevitable conflicts and the bodies of the murdered grew to be many, the angel became enraged. He was livid that he’d had a part in constructing such sadistic creatures. He used dark magic to bind himself, permanently, to the Earth and vowed not to rest until every human had been wiped from it. He used an army of locusts to destroy crops, starving a country’s residents. When he became impatient, he cursed entire continents with plague. God was furious, so He fashioned Perdition, a literal bottomless pit made using Earth’s magnetic field, and tossed the angel in. Later, Hell was created around that pit and I was tasked with ensuring it stay secure.”