The Nephelim - Chapter 1

When you get to heaven, you will wish you�re in hell
You�ll thank us now - that you have crossed over
Don�t pick your scabs or you will never heal
The world shudders as the worm gets his wings

Wormboy
Marilyn Manson

Alec Roth had no delusions about that crap of the Earth being the Mother, but there was no denying the fact that the coolness of the soil against his cheek returned some semblance of comfort. If the entire left side of his face didn’t hurt so damn much, he was sure he’d be enjoying the simple pleasure of this impromptu return to nature. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his love for nature that had brought him here. Rather it was the particularly sadistic nature of another.

Here we go again… Alec groaned silently. There’s no point in postponing the inevitable. He started to rise but apparently, he wasn’t fast enough for the sadistic nature that sent him down there in the first place. A hand grabbed a fistful of his dark hair, roughly yanking him to his feet. Alec barely had time to blink before a knee rammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“Christ, Jerry, that really fucking hurt!” He managed to choke out in a tone that was only mildly reproachful. It did hurt and he blinked desperately to keep his eyes from tearing up. Getting the stuffing knocked out of him wasn’t anything new, but Alec took pride in the simple fact that, thus far, no one had ever seen him shed a single tear. Being physically weaker than everyone else was one thing, but he was damned if anyone was going to call him a cry baby.

“He speaks!” someone trumpeted from the sidelines. Alec turned his head slightly and saw Dougie grinning like the moron he was. You just wait, shit for brains, Alec promised silently. Your turn will come…

“Hey, and here I was thinking all that mouth was good for was sucking dick.” Someone else laughed. “Wussy little Satanic dick, that is...” It was Matt, one of Dougie’s considerably bigger, but no less stupid, friends.

“You’d know all about sucking dick then wouldn’t you?” Alec smiled - whilst trying desperately not to wince as the effort pulled agonisingly on the rapidly swelling bruise over his left cheekbone. “Seeing as you practise on your momma’s package every chance you get.”

The grin disappeared in an instant. “Jerry, kick his fucking arse!” Matt growled turning red.

“Whaddaya think I’m trying to do?” Jerry shot back icily. “Seduce the little cunt?” Without further ado, Jerry unleashed a perfect backhanded blow that half closed Alec’s right eye and reacquainted him with Mother Nature again.

“Make me zit farm.” It wasn’t really a challenge as such, more like a case of supreme indifference to the threat of violence.

“Should we just kick his arse too?” Jerry asked cautiously. “Only one of him and three of us…”

“Two on three sounds like slightly better odds.” A different voice but just as languid as the first.

Alec forced his head off the grass to catch a glimpse of his would-be saviours. He recognised them immediately but hadn’t the slightest idea why they were doing what they were doing. Marc and Allen were hardly what he’d call friends and he couldn’t understand why they’d even make the effort.

“Actually,” Marc made a show of scratching his chin, “we outnumber them. Do the math yeah? A fag is supposedly only half a guy right, so three fags only make one and a half and against that are the two of us.”

Allen grinned. “Well then, maybe I should just go over there and have a smoke. I know how you love to keep things above board and all, and I’d really hate to be on your side if that means we outnumber this bunch of rampart powder-puff shlong-gulpers.”

“Suit yourself,” Marc shrugged indifferently. He took off his steel-framed glasses, folded them carefully and handed them to Allen before he turned to glare at Matt, Jerry and Dougie in turn. “So what? Do you cock hungry sissies wanna play or not?”

They made a show of glaring back at him more for the sake of show than anything else but Marc refused to back down. Finally, Jerry spat disgustedly, “Aw, fuck this shit!” and stormed off. Matt followed a moment later, leaving Dougie to stare down Marc by himself.

“This ain’t over, you gook freak!” Dougie shouted over his shoulder as he trotted after his friends.

“Cripes, but that child really does deserve a good beating.” Allen sighed, handing Marc his glasses. “I might just give him one, one of these days, but that’d be just mean.”

Marc stood over Alec and extended his hand. Alec accepted it and found himself unceremoniously yanked to his feet. “You still alive, dude?” Marc asked critically taking in the bleeding, but probably not broken nose and the bruised cheek as he unfolded his glasses and plonked them back onto his face.

“I’ll live,” Alec shrugged tiredly. “So whaddaya you two want for this little service? If its money, you’re going to have to wait for next week because they’ve,” he nodded in the direction Dougie and his friends had disappeared, “already gotten this week’s allowance.”

Marc merely grinned, lit a cigarette and then jammed it into the corner of Alec’s mouth. “I don’t want your money, mate.”

“That often tends to be the case,” Marc agreed with a carefree laugh. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, then you can just give me an I.O.U. slip and call it even. Here’s one piece of free advice, though: we’re not always gonna be around to save your bacon so I suggest you learn to fight and, for your sake, learn real fucking fast. Those cunts will be here tomorrow, and the day after that…”

“And the day after that.” Alec completed the sentence with a resigned shrug. “I get the picture.”

Marc said, “And another thing. There’s a lesson to be learned here too. Now irrespective of the fact those three are probably the biggest bunch of wankers in Turnam, I doubt I’d have been able to take them all on simultaneously. Jerry alone would have been a close thing. Jerry and Matt in tandem?” He shook his head.

Marc shrugged, the expression on his face carefully neutral. “The way I see it, shit just IS and you’ve got three choices: one, you can accept the hand that fate dealt you and be content to get your arse kicked on a daily basis. Two, you can flash fate the bird and change shit by hitting back, or three,” he smiled sardonically, “you could always shoot yourself. Have a think about it.”

Allen glanced at his watch. “In the meantime, we’ve got places we need to be. Catch ya’ later.”

Alec watched them walk off. “Why do I get the distinct impression that shooting myself is more than likely to be the only plausible option?” He asked himself as he headed off in the opposite direction.

While he had no way of knowing, the grave was exactly what she’d have wanted had Emily been able to make her preferences known. It was essentially just a single rectangular slab of thick, pale grey marble set on a concrete bed about knee height. A small raised dais at the head of the grave contained the usual grave information.

“Hey, mum,” Alec said as he placed a handful of white roses before the small dais. “Just though I’d drop in to say hi.” He took a seat on the cold marble and read the inscription aloud. “Here lies Emily Roth, beloved daughter of Greg and Helen Roth, loving mother of Alec Roth. Born 12th of May 1966, Laid to Rest June 6th 1985.” He sighed loudly and stared at the spotted gum trees that bordered the edge of the cemetery. “A scant two days after my entry into this cruel cold world.”

Closing his eyes, Alec felt a soft warmth gradually envelope him. “I’m kinda lost mum,” he began in a lifeless monotone. “Lindsey and Steve try their best and really, I couldn’t ask for better people to have around because they really do treat me as their own, but even they can’t help me here.” A slightly cynical smile appeared on his face, “Oh man, you should have seen your sister’s face this arvo when I walked through the door. She wanted to whisk me straight off the hospital and then to the police station to file a complaint. It took all of my BS skills to calm her down.

“In truth, I don’t really mind the bruises anymore. Sure they still hurt, but I’ve kinda gotten used to them.” He frowned. “Hmmph! Used to them? Christ! Listen to me, I sound like a really fucking pitiful ‘all the kids are picking on me Oprah’ story! God it’s really pathetic, mum.”

He took a deep breath and amended the statement. “I’m… really fucking pathetic.”

Alec was neither surprised nor particularly depressed at the ease of admitting that fact. He’d reached a point where he carried an imaginary jar around with him and whenever something less than pleasant occurred, instead of reacting to it, he’d simply bottle it away deep within himself. He supposed eventually the jar would shatter, but he’d been doing this for so long that he’d come to the conclusion that he may well have been issued with a bottomless jar. The thought lingered for a long sad moment, before it, too, found its place in the jar.

Alec moved the roses slightly to the side and lay down his head on the angled headstone. “God, mum, I wish you were here,” He said, staring up at the sky. “I don’t know what you could have done to change anything, and in all likeliness, you probably wouldn’t be able to change anything anyway, but sometimes I think just having you nearby would make this all the more bearable.” He was silent for a long moment, before reluctantly adding, “Dad’s being his usual stoic self. He doesn’t say much as usual but even he can’t mask the pity in his eyes when he sees me like this…”

Alec felt the disturbance immediately. He sat up and flicked the switch on his bedside lamp, noting the time as he did so. It was a quarter past three in the morning. His eyes lingered for a moment on the clock before he turned to regard the cause of said disturbance. There was a full moon up and the silvery beams spilling though his open window combined with the artificial light of his lamp provided more than enough illumination for his needs.

Anyone else would have been startled by the sight of a tall dark figure standing motionless in the dimmest lit corner of the room. Alec had gone through the routine too many times to be afraid anymore.

The figure took a step forward into the light. Deep green eyes regarded the bruised visage of the boy half sitting up in bed.

“Again?” The voice was deep and alien in its nuances but not unpleasant to the ear. There was a certain richness in the intonation of that single word that elevated its speaker to a higher plane, a certain something that singled him out as a being clearly more that the everyday mundane.

“What does it look like?” Alec answered in a deadpan as he shrugged his thin shoulders.

Alec shrugged again. “Personally, I couldn’t give a rat’s arse, but it’ll make Lindsey feel a lot better in the morning if she doesn’t have to see the bruises. The poor woman nearly had a fit last night when she saw me, and Steve looked like he was on the verge of lynching someone.”

“Hold still,” Menthayel said as he reached out to place a hand over Alec’s cheek. The hand, deathly pale, took on a dim golden glow as Alec felt a faint tingling sensation against his cheek. The tingling soon took on another quality, something not quite warm or cold, it was a feeling that simply lacked description because it was never meant for human understanding. A few moments later Menthayel removed his hand.

“I had a nose bleed earlier but that’s fine now, thanks.” Alec glanced at the mirror on his nightstand and wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the bruise was no longer there. The dull ache was also gone. “You’ve got to teach me how to do that,” he said, looking at the dark figure whose features bore an uncanny resemblance to his own. “It’ll save me a lot of problems in the long run and probably stop Lindsey from getting too many grey hairs. She feels so helpless that it’s tearing her apart.”

“As I’ve told you the first time you asked, I can’t teach you something that is beyond your abilities.”

Alec snorted. “My abilities? What abilities?” He let his frustration laden voice rise slightly. “For fuck’s sake, I get my arse kicked practically every day! I’m next to frigging useless!”

“No, you’re not,” Menthayel replied, his voice calm but firm. “You just aren’t ready yet. Your time will come, Aleck. Soon you’ll reach a point in your evolution where you’ll come into your own…” a superior gleam appeared in those deep green eyes, “and then some. Never forget who you are and whose blood flows through your veins.”

“The blood of an angel,” Alec sighed. “Yes, I’ve heard that story before. Frankly, it’s getting a little old.”

Menthayel placed a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Archangel, as you well know,” he corrected. “I know some things are hard to understand and I’m sure you’re wondering why the events of your life occur the way they do, why you’re the one that always seems to get picked on, why you’re always the smallest, the weakest…”

“Then understand that there is always an ordering of things. Some things have to take place before others can. That is just how the world you live in is ordered and even I cannot change that natural order. I know this doesn’t make it any easier to bear, but you must take my word for it. Soon will come a time of change. For all of us.”

“So you keep saying,” Alec said with a touch of impatience. “But you’ve been telling me that for what, the last ten years or so? That’s a long time to wait for something I’m supposed to accept on the faith of your word alone.”

Menthayel’s lips curled into a smile that was more sardonic than humorous. “Forgive me. Sometimes I forget that patience is rarely a virtue for those that exist here. Still, I suppose in the short course of the average human lifespan, there simply isn’t enough time for patience. If fact, learning it would probably constitute a chronic waste of time.”

Then, without bothering to glance at the clock’s LCD display, Menthayel added, “But it’s late and you have to get up for school in a couple of hours. Get some sleep.” At that, he silently returned to his corner. A moment later the corner was again empty.

Alec couldn’t resist a slight grin. He’d seen Menthayel do this a hundred times before but the effect still amused him to no end. Just stand there and poof! Not be there. No flames, no smoke, nothing. Just a clean vanishing act that would have left Houdini green with envy.

“Good night… father,” he whispered aloud, knowing as he mouthed the words that the archangel Menthayel was already long gone.

Alec came down the stairs unhurriedly, his backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. “Hey Lindsey…” He said, venturing a tired smile in her direction. He’d never call her ‘mum’ and Lindsey had never asked him to. She was, in fact, his aunt - his mother’s older sister.

Hazel eyes widened noticeably as Lindsey noticed the bruise on his cheek had faded into oblivion over the course of the night.

“See?” said Alec pre-emptively, guessing what was on her mind. “Told you it was nothing.”

“Apparently.” She reached out to touch his face, her cool fingers pressing lightly against flesh no longer bruised. “But honey, this can’t keep going on.” Her eyes were filled, not with pity for him, but genuine sadness. “We can’t just pretend there’s nothing wrong because there’s plenty wrong at the moment.”

He sighed loudly. “I know. But I’m not a rat. I’m not gonna run screaming to the nearest authority figure in a lame attempt to get someone else to fix my problems.”

“Yeah is does.” He interrupted, his expression hard. Then he took in the dark circles around her worried eyes and the deepening crow’s feet at the corners. In all likeliness, she’d been unable to sleep all night. He’d seen pictures of his mother before, a petite, pretty thing of about eighteen with pale, almost translucent skin and big violet eyes. Barring the eye colour, Lindsey Roth looked so much like her sister Emily they could have easily been mistaken for twins, rather than sisters three years apart. It was one of the reasons Menthayel visited Alec in secret. He simply couldn’t bear even an imperfect reminder of Alec’s mother.

But over the last two years Lindsey seemed to have aged another ten. Not yet forty, she already had pronounced grey streaks running through her dark, wavy hair and her eyes seemed almost perpetually sad. While he’d always been able to see a toughness in her petite frame, that morning she looked particularly, worn, her shoulders slumped and her liquid brown eyes a touch more liquid than usual. Alec felt a deep pang of guilt because again, this was his doing.

“Sorry Lindse,” his voice was barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“You didn’t.” She tried to smile in an effort to reassure him that she wasn’t angry at him.

“I’m sorry.” He said and meant it. “Look, things will have to change eventually, yeah?” He grinned ruefully. “I mean they’re hardly likely to get any worse so therefore they’re bound to pick up. But forget about that for the moment. Sit down, I’ll get you a nice hot cup of coffee.” He gently forced her into a chair.

A slight smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Look who’s being the parent figure now.”

Alec forced a merry note into his voice even though he felt far from merry this morning. “Hey, I learnt from the best,” he grinned leaning down to kiss her pale cheek.

Maybe because they weren’t meant to, or maybe because Alec could never find it in himself to stop them, the beatings continued whenever Jerry or Matt could isolate him. Dougie was usually around to gloat, but aside from the odd kick when Alec was already inspecting the ground, he apparently didn’t have the stomach to institute a shit-kicking. Dougie was a scavenger, not a predator.

Alec wasn’t sure exactly why they continued, because if memory served, he doubted he’d done anything to overtly offend Jerry and his mates. He reasoned that like all bullies, they were content to smack him around simply because they could. They’d established very early on that Alec wasn’t going to run off to the nearest teacher and dob them in. As they had an apparent free reign, they were only too eager to dish it up.

Usually if he could stay within sight of either Marc or Allen, he’d be spared, but Alec had a stubborn streak running through him and pride alone simply wouldn’t allow him to ask for help. Soon, the punches in the guts became an almost permanent fixture in his life and he simply adjusted to incorporate them as he would almost anything else.

Marc’s initial suggestion to hit back was entertained, if only for a moment. Late for his adolescent growth spurt, Alec had always been the ‘runt’ of his class. All his momentary break from the norm had earned him were even more bruises than he considered were strictly necessary to appease Jerry and Matt. In the end he decided it was easier and considerably less painful just to accept what was dished out and leave things at that. The glass jar began taking in double doses, but as he’d earlier suspected it seemed, indeed, quite limitless.

Sooner than he would have thought was possible, the school year ended. A short listless break for Christmas and then it all started anew. The only thing Alec had to be thankful for was that Jerry had moved interstate and would not be back. Matt however, was only too pleased to take the torch passed him by his older, more sadistic friend.

It was the third period on the first Friday back in uniform and Alec was looking forward to first break. He generally buggered off for a cigarette during class breaks, his only escape from the monotonous drivel the teaching staff forced down indifferent student throats. The class was dismissed, and he was walking down the hall, lost in thought, when Matt ankle tapped him.

Reflexes honed by the experience gained from dozens of similar incidents gave Alec an unexpected advantage. He instinctively squared his shoulders and twisted his torso on the way down to minimise the impact. As his shoulder broke most of the fall, he figured Matt must have found a way to leave class early just so he could swing by and give him one for the road. It was a very Matt-like thing to do.

Alec exhaled slowly as he sat up. He’d long since learned not to fight back. To fight back was to be utterly shit-kicked, and he really wasn’t in the mood to bleed. That didn’t stop him from being angry, though. In fact, anger, carefully hidden as it may have been, had been his constant companion throughout his time in Turnam State. Anger at Jerry, Matt and Dougie, but most of all, anger at himself, the son of an archangel getting his semi-angelic arse kicked on a daily basis by a bunch of goddamned fucking humans. The sheep were beating the crap out of the shepherd’s boy.

The fragile glass jar he’d been shoving things into reached critical mass and, at long last, shattered, filling him with a deluge of pure rage, a malevolent surge of vengeance, long since denied, that had finally broken loose and begged an accounting. If there’d been a psychic within the vicinity they would’ve been knocked senseless by the massive, blood-red auric explosion that soared thirty yards in all directions. As it was, the blast flooded the auras of all those within its radius with a moment of unreasoning rage, gone as quickly as it had come. All eyes were on Alec as he stared bloody murder at Matt Wyndam.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he concentrated all his hatred upon Matt, allowing it to grow and feed upon itself. His dark gaze was murderous and his voice ice-cold as he rose to his feet.

“Time to die, Mattie.” Alec whispered, shooting the taller boy a deranged, wide-eyed grin. It seemed terribly clever, and so funny that he couldn’t keep a cold, heartless chuckle from his voice as he said it again… and again.

Something in Alec’s expression caused Matt to take him seriously, despite the fact that Alec had nothing he could use as a weapon and Matt was a good six inches taller and about 50 pounds heavier than he was. Matt slowly backed away, and Alec advanced, his lips curving in a smile devoid of all humour.

He said it again: “Time to diiiiiie, Mattie.” Alec giggled stupidly, a horrible, clotted sound that bubbled in the back of his throat. Never in his life had he felt an emotion so basic, so pure. Blinding wrath and bloodlust, chills and goose-bumps, the urge to maim someone coupled with naked hatred filled him utterly and completely. He giggled again. Matt would die. He kept repeating his new mantra over and over again… “Time to die, Mattie.”

The thought that this little stunt, unmeditated and completely unprecedented, could actually get him killed never occurred. It was crazy, unpredictable and probably just about as safe as trying to bunny-hop a BMX over an ice crevice, but there was still a powerful pull forcing him forward. If his mind wasn’t so clouded over, Alec might have realised there was much more than mere adrenaline at play here. As it was, coherent rational thought was clearly beyond him as he took slow, deliberate steps towards Matt.

Then the anger was replaced by something else entirely. Dizziness and nausea, coupled with a crippling pain in pretty much every part of his body with triple strength doses focused on his head. Alec staggered against a wall as ripples of pure agony surged through him. Grasping wildly for balance, his knees buckled, and he toppled to the floor as students rushed out of their classrooms to see what the commotion was.

Alec threw back his head and screamed, a mindless howl of agony from a body that knew nothing but all encompassing pain. He didn’t care that a large crowd had gathered around to stare at him. He couldn’t care, he couldn’t even move – not voluntarily, anyway. His body completely ignored his commands, twisting and jerking of its own accord. He couldn’t even fucking BREATHE! Panic-stricken and thrashing, his head hit something mercifully hard and blackness descended as he lost consciousness.

A commotion in the hall caused Elaine Jensen, a student teacher in the Biology department, to look up from the lesson planner she was preparing. Someone screamed. She got up and bolted towards the source of the noise, upsetting a chair in the process. A group of students had crowded around a kid who appeared to be in the throes of some sort of seizure.

“Ha! Braindead! He’s a fuckin’ spastic!” declared Matt Wyndam, grinning from ear to ear. She pushed him out of the way, and he tripped over a satchel, ending up on his ass. She didn’t notice. The kid on the floor was from her class. Alec … something. This wasn’t the time to worry about names. He was still shaking wildly, clutching at his head and blabbering nonsense words punctuated by guttural screaming. She froze, unsure of what to do.

His head hurt beyond imagining. Alec tried to force open his eyes, but the resulting sledgehammer blows to his skull came close to rendering him unconscious again. He could dimly hear a female voice somewhere in the distance and tried to focus his attention on it, but that was more than he was capable of, and consciousness again fled his grasp.

Sometime later, he again returned to the world of coherent thought to find the same female voice still beckoning:

He knew this voice but couldn’t quite put a face to it, probably because he still had his eyes closed. They slowly came into focus upon a pair of very blue eyes narrowed slightly in concern. He zoomed out slightly and caught his breath. Straight, even nose, full more red than pink lips, and a long, golden-brown cascade of shoulder length hair. Perfection worthy of Heaven, but for two factors. He hurt too much for him to be dead and Alec didn’t believe in Heaven.

“Miss Jensen?” he croaked, dragging his eyes off her for a moment to look around. He was sprawled out on a vinyl couch in the school’s sick room. Against the far wall were diagrams of the human anatomy and the room smelled strongly of disinfectant. If it indeed existed, even Heaven couldn’t stink this much.

“What happened?” Alec asked groggily. He remembered Matt, he remembered the rage, and he remembered the agony. After that there was nothing. He turned to stare the woman by his side.

The relief on Elaine’s face was obvious and Alec felt strangely warmer for her smile. From the front of the class, he’d always thought Elaine Jensen was a very pretty woman. Up close, she was exceptional. The throbbing at his temples began to subside into a dull ache and suddenly, more than anything else, he simply wanted to reach out and run the tips of his fingers down her soft cheek…

But that was absurd! She was a teacher and he was… what? A fifteen year old kid who got the shit kicked out of him every fucking day! There was, and never would be, anything between them! This wasn’t some goddamned fairytale! She was here simply because as a student teacher, she could be spared to look after the spastic kid who had a seizure on school grounds. Mr Peters, the principal, must have just figured a pretty face was all that stood between him and Alec attempting to file a complaint against the school.

Alec tried to sit up. “What happened?” he asked again, his voice lower and more controlled. The pain was fading into little more than a memory.

“You had some sort of a… an episode.” Elaine told him, “The other kids said that Matthew pushed you over and then you had some sort of fit.”

Matt. Matt fucking Wyndam. Alec felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Any other time and he might have found the whole thing amusing, like he was some sort of werewolf and the moon was almost up. But there was nothing remotely amusing at the moment. The rage he had felt earlier began to build again. Pure hatred forming in the pit of his stomach, and then slowly radiating outwards as it consumed him. Marc was right, there was always a choice and for the first time in his life, Alec was done being the fucking victim.

Never again, He promised himself. Never… fucking EVER… again! It was his vow, his promise to himself, that he would never again allow himself to sink so low. At that moment he felt better than he had in his whole life. No matter what happened, he had made his decision. The victim in him was dead.

Elaine pulled away from him suddenly, a look of acute distress clouding her features. Alec sat bolt upright. “What?” He asked, looking genuinely alarmed.

“My God!” Elaine whispered, her eyes wide and her hand half covering her mouth. She stared at him for a long moment before she abruptly exploded into a bout of giggling.

“Sorry…” A little more girlish laughter, “but you gave me quite a scare for a moment!” She made a show of playfully hitting her chest to insinuate a near heart-attack.

Alec stared back levelly at her, trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed her generous bust jiggling under her blouse. “I’m still not getting it. What?”

Elaine quietened down but there was still a soft rosy blush in her cheeks. “It’s just that expression you wore,” she explained. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were looking to seriously hurt someone. It was actually kinda’ freaky for a moment.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “So don’t do it again, you hear! My poor old heart just can’t take that kind of shock anymore!”

They both laughed. At a pinch, Alec didn’t think Elaine Jensen could be a day older than twenty-four. She was still doing the prac work on her Education degree so he figured that if she’d gone into uni straight out of high school, she’d most probably be twenty-one or twenty-two. Trim, tanned and the picture of good health, there was no way in hell she was likely to suffer a heart-attack at his expense.

“So how’re you feeling now?” Elaine asked, tucking a tawny strand of hair behind her ear.

“Fine now, Miss,” answered Alec truthfully. “Can I get out of here? Truth to tell, I hate the smell of disinfectant. It never fails to set my teeth on edge.”

Elaine reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Good to hear. You had us all a bit worried back there.” She seemed genuine enough but Alec had never been comfortable in the presence of pretty females. He suddenly wanted out. He’d already been made his choice and there was a score that needed to be settled.

“Um, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Elaine muttered, cutting a glance at her watch. “Look, there’s still about ten minutes left of fourth period and I’ve got a class I need to take in the fifth. Why don’t you just crash here until I’ve finished my class and then I’ll be back to check on you. If you’re ready to go then, I’ll write you a chit and you can take a cab home okay?”

“Right, now that I’m sure you’re alive, I’d better go dig up my lesson planner and get to it!” Elaine stood up. “I’ve got thirty six little miscreants, give or take a few, that need to be educated on the inner workings of a frog.” She made a face at the thought of a frog dissection, shot him another warm smile, added the proverbial “now you behave,” and slipped out of sick room, pulling the door shut behind herself.

Alec closed his eyes and slowly began counting. At two hundred and forty, he got off the couch and moved silently to the door. By three hundred he was out of the building and walking at a slow, controlled pace towards the science block. Four hundred and twenty-three seconds after Elaine Jensen had left him alone in the sick room, Alec Roth found himself in the second floor science hallway outside a senior composite Math class.

Considering what he was about to do, he felt strangely relaxed. There was a little fear, but it was the resigned sort of fear one feels as a teacher walks down the aisles passing out pop quiz sheets. A subdued ‘aw crap, another incoming D to thrill the parents with’ kind of fear rather than the petrified ‘Please, mister loan-shark, not the knees…” variety.

Alec slid into a small niche between a support pylon and the end of a row of lockers and patiently waited for Chalmes to dismiss his class.

The bell rang roughly three minutes later, followed almost instantaneously by the sound of classroom doors being thrown open. While everyone was in a hurry to get out of the finishing class, very few were eager to rush off to the next. Most chose to squander the allocated five minutes or so before the next class started catching up on whatever conversation they had begun before being rudely interrupted by the end of morning tea. It came as no surprise to Alec that he managed to go unnoticed.

Matt was one of the last few to make his exit. As he stepped into the hallway, Alec slipped out from behind the lockers. Matt’s face lit up immediately.

Matt’s open jaw wasn’t the designated target, yet Alec’s fist came plunging up from the edge of his vision to part bone from sinew. With a detached sort of amusement, Alec considered the physics behind Matt’s face getting longer as his knuckles sank into the space between cheekbone and bottom jaw. The sheer force of the blow spun Matt around, but he wasn’t allowed to reach the floor just yet. Alec caught him by the lapel of his school jacket as the taller boy staggered backward and hammered the heel of his palm into Matt’s solar plexus. Then, as Matt’s head slumped forward, Alec pulled his right knee up into a savage collision course with Matt’s face.

In three blows he had utterly incapacitated probably the most feared bully in Turnam High, but he wasn't done yet. The anger he'd felt before was a shadow in comparison with the all-encompassing fury he felt now. It was more than any mere emotion, it was raw power, a seething inferno in his skull that sent threads of fire spiraling through his veins. Each muscle pulsed with energy begging to be released, each movement executed with fluid smoothness. To Alec, the world had slowed down, even though it hadn't. He felt he had the same amount of time to act and to react, but his reflexes stretched every instant into an eternity. Grabbing hold of Matt’s tie, he dragged the choking boy upright until he was more on less on his knees before backhanding him hard across the mouth. The resulting blood and broken tooth enamel spurred him on and his fist flew out again. Alec wallowed in pure savage joy as Matt’s head snapped back, a thin, glorious spurt of blood issuing from his busted lips.

Alec spun around to glare at the crowd of onlookers around him. Wide eyed, horrified stares were all he received in return. A couple of girls looked slightly sick but for the most part, people just stared at him incomprehensively. A cold detached grin in place, he watched his foot streak almost languidly into Matt's torso, jerking the other boy upward in a slow moment of flight before gravity could once more take hold and reclaim him. As Matt struck the tiled floor, Alec felt a hand on his shoulder and spun faster than it seemed possible, jerking Chalmes around with enough force to spin the burly math teacher into the lockers.

More hands grabbed at him, and eventually enough weight was brought to bear to drag him to the floor.

“Alec, calm down,” People shouted at him. They said it over and over, altering slightly in tone and urgency.

“Not while the fucker has a pulse,” Alec snarled. His teeth were clenched hard enough for his jaws to hurt, his lips twisted into a murderous sneer. He had no qualms about what he was doing. If necessary, he’d happily tear a red-spattered path through everyone that stood between him and his already bloodied victim. The hands holding him loosened their grips, their owners momentarily taken back by the sheer malice of the being they tried to subdue. They gave him barely a moment, but it was enough time for Alec to leap back at Matt and launch a brutal series of kicks to the semi-conscious boy’s unprotected kidneys. The brutal delight was intoxicating, but it wasn't to last much longer. Eventually he was crash-tackled and brought down again before being escorted roughly to the principal's office.

Alec sat there, alone, staring at his fists, for nearly a half hour. His knuckles were bruised and bloody, but for once, the blood wasn’t his own.

The glass cabinet across the office bore the reflected image of a lunatic. A rabid animal with tousled hair and torn clothes. The cold, self-satisfied expression on the creature’s face was chilling.

“The world shudders, as the worm gets his wings...” Alec whispered to the face grinning back at him.

Lindsey and Steve walked out of the principal’s office with Mr Peters a step behind them. In stark contrast to Alec’s aunt, Steve was a tall, bull-necked man who’d look more at home on a Harley Davidson or standing outside a club doing bouncer duty than casually clad in his usual shirt sleeves and slacks. He was, oddly enough, a draughtsman by profession.

While Lindsey looked distinctly distraught, Alec didn’t miss the pride he saw in his foster father’s eyes.

“We’ll take it from here Mr Peters.” Steve said, shaking the principal’s hand.

He stood up and followed his guardians out of the building and into the car park.

“About time, son!” Steve declared when they were out of earshot, proudly clapping Alec hard over the shoulder.

“Hey! Whaddaya want me to say?” Steve protested in his deep basso voice. “That I’m sorry he belted the crap out of that little twerp? Forget it. I hate bullies, always have, always will. Personally I’m glad he finally stood up for himself and whupped that snot-nosed brat!” He fetched Alec another bone-jarring pat on the back that was sure to leave a whopping great bruise. “So like I was saying, good on ya’, boyo’!”

Alec could see the conflicting emotions playing over the face of the only ‘mother’ he’d ever known. On one hand, she was glad he’d stood up for himself but on the other hand he knew that she abhorred violence of any sort. The end result – that he’d finally stood up for himself - may have pleased her, but the means obviously did not.

Steve sobered up immediately. He stepped in front of Alec and stared down at him firmly. “But Lindsey does have a point,” he said sternly. “You put a boy in hospital today. I know he had it coming so I don’t begrudge you the justifiable shit-kicking you administered but you still have to be punished. Mr Peters is putting you on detention for a week, which is rather lenient of him but Lindsey and I don’t think that’s enough.”

“Cripes!” Steve tousled his greying hair. “Kids these days! You tell them they’re getting punished and the first thing that comes to mind is TV rights!” He regarded Alec seriously. “No, kiddo’. You can watch TV to your little heart’s content. Your punishment will be of a more traditional nature. The same punishment my old man gave me when I knocked the stuffing out of some cun…” he cut a quick glance at Lindsey, took note of her deepening frown lines, and corrected himself hastily, “err, some kid who was giving me crap back when I was still in school.”

“What’s that? Cutting the lawn with nail scissors?” inquired Alec politely.

“Don’t be stupid! We’re in Australia not some antediluvian third-world Nazi shithole!” Steve grinned before returning to his serious face. “No, Alec, me lad, your punishment is this: on the way home, I’m gonna’ stop at the Lonnevale Tavern and pick up a slab of XXXX Bitters. Then we’re gonna’ go home and as penance for your sins, you and I are gonna’ sit out on the deck and drink the whole bloody thing while you contemplate the errors of your ways. You’re also gonna have to give me a punch-by-punch commentary so as to allow me to properly advise you on strategy. Have you got that?”

“Yes, sir.” While his tone was carefully meek, Alec’s grin matched his foster father’s.

“Mmmph! Go away…” he groaned, trying to bury his face deeper into his pillow.

“Ah, the human rites of manhood.” The voice turned wistful for a moment. “But we don’t have time for this.” Alec felt a faint buzzing behind his eyes, as the dull ache subsided. He was instantly awake. Only one being he knew could take away pain with a mere thought.

“Dad?” He focused bleary, sleep-laden eyes on the dark figure standing at the foot of his bed.

Menthayel nodded slightly, gracing his son with a full smile, rather than one of his usual half-smiles. “I told you things would change, didn’t I?”

As usual, after greeting his son, Menthayel moved to the dimmest corner of the room where he stood almost statue-still. Half hidden by shadows, he looked the world like a pall bearer for he was clad entirely in black. His clothes, from a distance appeared to be of plain cotton, a long sleeved collarless tunic and a pair of non-descript pants, but closer inspection would have revealed the fact that the material was not cotton. It had a texture not unlike Thai silk but without the sheen and the garments themselves had no visible seams or means of fastening. No buttons, no zippers, no clasps, nothing. It was as if the trends had just come together around him.

Barring the choice of clothes, he and his son were almost mirror images of each other, the same emerald green eyes, same jet black hair and the same squared off stubborn looking jaw. Their main differences were in physique. Alec was still the scrawny runt he’d always been while Menthayel had the classic athletic build, broad shoulders and narrow waist without not excessively bulky.

“You did.” Alec sat up and turned on his lamp. “Now you wanna explain some things to me? What really happened? There was so much anger in me…” his voice trailed off as the memory of what he’d done returned. “But what a rush! Where the hell did that all come from? It was like I was possessed or something!”

"Prick your finger, it is done
"The moon has now eclipsed the sun
"The angel has spread its wings
"The time has come for better things!’”

“Marilyn Manson.” Alec grinned. “Cute, I never would have figured you for a fan, then again, I really shouldn’t be surprised about anything you do anymore. But just for the record, you got the last line wrong. Its bitter things, not better things.”

“No, Aleck, better things. I know this sounds particularly clichéd but I just can’t help myself. It has begun!”

Menthayel smiled again, his voice carrying a rare trace of warmth. “My blood has finally found a place to call its home in you. I hadn’t expected to see any changes for years…” a rueful smile appeared for the barest moment, before his face was once again expressionless. “But there’s no denying the fact that a change has occurred. I think this is the first time the blood on your shirt wasn’t yours. Why don’t you tell me what happened? A father likes to hear these things with his own ears.”

The words came out in an excited unchecked rush at first but once Alec realised what he was doing, he felt ridiculously foolish. He was acting like a flustered hyperventilating child with a new toy. Forcing himself to slow down, Alec finished recounting the day’s events ending with his first soirée into gross alcohol abuse.

“It was your anger,” Menthayel muttered a few moments after Alec had finally fallen silent. “You were right in thinking it had something to do with it. Hate is a very strong emotion, unfortunately also an unstable one so you must try to control it better. Now that you’ve seen what it can do, never, and I do mean never, let it control you. Harness it when needed, but never let it own you.” He stared at Alec quizzically for a moment before adding, “Also… regarding your thoughts on the pain you felt, all I can offer you is that change is often painful.”

Alec’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t even begun to discuss his suspected reasons for his change with his father as he was still in the process of trying to organise his thoughts. The day’s events had taken place in a blur and he was still trying to come to grips with everything. The alcohol and its resulting hangover hadn’t helped any. But out of the blue, his father had just answered one of the many questions running through his head without any prompts! How?

“There’s a strong blood connection between us Aleck.” The wry grin returned but this time it remained. “I know you might find it hard to believe but it isn’t particularly hard for me to read your thoughts when I’m in the same room with you. At times I’ve been able to do it with miles between us but then only with concentration. In the same room it’s as if you’re actually speaking your thoughts aloud.”

Alec stared at his father sceptically. “Read my thoughts? Yeah right! What’s on my mind now?”

An unholy gleam entered Menthayel’s eyes. “Excuse the vulgarity, but these are, in fact, your thoughts.” He cleared his throat. “You’re wondering what its like to fuck the stuffing out of that pretty little substitute teacher at your school. A certain Miss Elaine Jensen if I’m not mistaken…”

Alec’s already pale face went even paler. HOLY FUCKING SHIT! He screamed silently. His father actually could read his mind! The Miss Jensen thing was way too random for his father to just have stumbled upon. He’d never even mentioned her name to Menthayel before!

Menthayel cut his son off with a wave of his hand. “I know you have a million questions that all want answering but I’m afraid I don’t have the time for all of them. I know how your mind works, perhaps even better than you do in fact, so I also know that you’ll be the one to answer a lot of what you’d have me answer now. I know you will not be able to understand a number of things just yet, and years could past before you do but there’s a reason for that, an ordering of events if you will…”

“Must you insist on talking in circ…” Alec left the rest of the sentence unfinished. The corner was again empty. “God I hate it when he does that,” he grumbled, flicking his light off again.

Alone in the darkness once more, Alec’s thoughts centred on his father being able to read his mind. How long has that been going on for? He asked himself. Forever apparently, came the answer he didn’t want to hear. Someone who’d always valued his space, Alec found the notion of anyone, even if that person were his father, being able to intrude into the only sanctuary that was his and his alone singularly disturbing.

He knew his father wasn’t going to go around and tell everyone what was on his mind, but that was still a shallow consolation. Some things were just not meant to be shared.

But if there’s a way for him to read my mind, there must be a way for me to block my mind… he wrestled with the idea for what seemed like ages, hitting it from every angle he could conceive of in short notice, but knowing deep down as he tackled the problem that the effort was doomed to fail from the start. Alec had never really had a problem admitting to his own failings and he knew instinctively that there were three deciding factors against him. His father was an angel. His father had had an eternity to develop his skills and Alec really had no idea how mind reading even worked anyway so the chances of him finding a way to keep his father out of his head were virtually non-existent.

If dad, as an angel, can read my mind, then what’s the possibility that I, as the son of an angel, can read someone else’s…?

Alec turned to see Marc leaning against the canteen wall, his expression the usual one of supreme indifference to the munchie-rush of his fellow students around him. Without a ready reply on his lips, Alec merely shrugged and paid for his food. It was a pleasant change to actually still have munchie money when morning tea came around.

Burying his hands into his pockets and squaring his shoulders, Marc returned the shrug. “I was starting to wonder how long it’d take but the thing about any problem is that it either gets fixed or it stays broken. Good to see you fixed yours.”

Alec just stared at him blankly. The statement was so simple, but at the same time…

Marc abruptly seemed to lose patience. “Look, I’m due for a tar fix anyway and standing here is just plain annoying. C’mon lets go find Allen and wreck our lungs.” At that, he spun on his heel and walked off without a backward glance. Not having anything better to do, Alec fell in behind him.

Alec stared at the whiteboard, blocking out the teacher’s bored drone and feigning interest as he usually did as he contemplated his new life.

The week following his brush with Matt had been strangely calm. He’d always been an outsider from the first grade and never really had friends so schoolyard isolation wasn’t a new thing for him but now, with no one willing to pick a fight or taunt him, things seemed especially dull. He even found himself almost missing the old days when regular beatings at least broke the monotony. Popularity was never something he’d actively pursued and while many of his peers would have been loudly boasting to all and sundry about the fight, Alec felt little need to for a number of reasons. One, half the school had been there to see it (and the other half would have heard exaggerated second hand accounts by now), two, bragging wasn’t in his nature and three, he wasn’t sure he’d enjoy being the centre of attention anyway. For some strange reason, he’d always preferred the shadows to the limelight.

So now, exactly one week to the day he’d beaten Matt senseless, and with his last detention spell behind him, he found himself standing in the shoes of a new, reborn Alec Roth. Everyone now knew who he was, but very few made any attempt to talk to him. He was still the outsider, but the hushed whispers around him told him he was now a feared outsider.

The weird scary kid that no one in their right mind wanted to have anything to do with.

Finally, the sound of the bell snapped him back into reality. The class was dismissed to the noise of inane chatter and chairs slamming into the desks behind them as students made a rush for the exit. Alec waited until most of the class had left the room before getting to his feet and slowly walking out. The hall was already empty so he threw his knapsack over his shoulder and made for the cafeteria and for the first time in recent memory, a violence free lunch hour.

Alec looked up to see Marc strolling nonchalantly over to him, his hands deep in his pockets.

“Sure.” He half grinned. Marc and Allen were about the only people that didn’t seem to be terrified of him. While they were hardly what he’d call friends, he figured if he was going to get some mates, he might as well start with them.

“Right, grab your grub and join us later then.” At that, Marc continued past him and shouldered his way through the throng of students crowded around the cafeteria.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Alec finally made it to the front of the queue and paid for his helping of chips and Coke. Pocketing the change, he carefully made his way through the crowd and then headed towards the oval.

Just like their canine counterparts, the students of Turnam State had divided the school yard into small personal zones but unlike dogs, only the grubby ones had felt the need to mark their boundaries with urine. Marc and Allen had commandeered a bench and table for themselves on the far side of the oval out of sight and out of mind for almost everyone else. As Alec approached the bench, he had to admit it was a pretty good choice as the dense shrubs made it a perfect spot to burn the odd cigarette and the distance away from the rest of the school meant that few teachers could be bothered walking this far just to bust them.

“Nice of you to show,” Allen remarked as Alec dropped his bag on the grass and deposited his food on the corrugated iron table. He fished out a pack of Griffins from one of his trouser pockets and tossed them to Marc.

“Ta', mate,” Marc grinned. He extracted a cigarette and sparked up before turning to regard Alec. “You can sit down you know…”

Alec did as instructed, his dark green eyes taking in the only people that had, thus far, bothered to have anything to do with him that didn’t include a punch in the solar plexus. Marc was the shorter and thinner of the two with short platinum blonde hair and ice blue eyes that seemed to stand out even more then they should have because of his insanely pale complexion. Allen on the other hand stood a good four inches or so taller than his mate and had dark brown hair cut in no particular style. To Alec it looked as if Allen might have once had an actual hairstyle but neglect had set in and he’d just let it grow until it reached his slumped shoulders. Neither was what anyone would call handsome, but on the same token, they weren’t horribly disfigured either. Just your average smut brained ‘don’t give a damn’ high school bums.

Alec’s impression of them being smut brained bums was validated a second later:

“Hey can I bum a fag too?” Allen asked, pointedly ignoring Marc’s “Could you be any friggin’ gayer?” comment.

“Sure.” Alec said with a faint grin as he nodded at the packet on the table. “Help yourself.”

“So how’s life treating you?” Marc asked after blowing out a long cloud of smoke.

“I bet you can’t!” Allen declared with a laugh. “I’ve seen some shit-kicking in my time but the number you pulled on Mattie, now that was some funky stuff! Where did you learn to do that? First you were just the little gimp kid and then out of nowhere you suddenly just go all mediaevally righteous on his stupid arse!”

“It was rather impressive,” Marc added with a grin. “Barring this one time in grade nine I told Pinocchio here that Dyane Simpson was waiting for him behind the toilets, I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Allen snapped hotly. “That wasn’t funny then and it isn’t funny now!”

“Oh it’s frigging hilarious!” Marc chuckled as he winked at Alec. “Dude you should have seen the boy run! Maurice Greene’s a turtle in comparison to Allen in search of nookie! Damn near created a sonic boom too the horny little bastard!”

“So was she there?” Alec raised an eyebrow whilst trying hard to keep a grin off his face. While not really a total lard ass, Allen was just one of those people who never seemed to have a reason to move any faster than an unhurried stroll. Imagining him running was actually quite funny.

Marc’s grin widened. “Oh fuck no!” He burst out into laughter so infectious Alec couldn’t help grinning in spite of the angry look Allen was sporting.

“Shut the hell up the both of you!” Allen grumbled sourly. “And anyway, Dyane Simpson was hot! Who in their right mind wouldn’t have run after her?”

“Whatever happened to that girl?” Alec asked. He dimly remembered Dyane, a very pretty blonde he’d had a major boner over ages ago. He’d always thought she was way out of his league so he’d never done anything about it but as Allen had pointed out, she was, indeed, someone worth running after.

Marc exhaled a lungful of smoke. “I think she moved to Canberra or something and got herself knocked up.” Anticipating Allen’s next statement, he quickly added, “While lover-boy here was belting the bishop at home and hopelessly wishing.”

Blowing a plume of smoke in Alec’s general direction, Marc asked, “So you got any plans for Friday night?”

Allen, still miffed about being paid out earlier, snorted irritably. “Why, you asking me out again? For the last time you homo prick, I prefer girls!”

Allen made a face. “What kind of a dumb insult is that? Now I’m a lesbian?”

“Fine.” Allen shrugged indifferently. “Hey Alec, got any plans for Friday night because Marc here wants to… Arrggh!” He glared at Marc. “Was slugging me in the shoulder really bloody necessary?”

“Yes it was.” Marc snapped. “Now for the last time, shut the hell up and let Alec answer for himself!”

“Don’t worry about that, just show up with us and the rest will work itself out. Besides, Dave throws the best parties in the vicinity. The music’s good, the beer’s cold and if you’re really lucky, scoring’s not totally out of the equation. The girl to guy ratio sits slightly in our favour and even Allen here has managed to occasionally feel up some bint there.”

At Alec’s blank look, Marc added, “Dave and his nuclear tribe have a standing arrangement for Friday nights. They go play the pokies and he throws the parties. They don’t come home till at least two in the morning and he ensures his friends don’t trash the place. Everyone wins.”

“Nah, I doubt Dave’ll give a crap either way as long as you don’t break anything. Just stay far the fuck away from his stereo and be sure to compliment the music and you’ll get along fine.”

Allen shot Marc a wink. “Congrats Marco, it appears you’ve got yourself a date!” he added with a sly grin and ducked under the punch that came his way a moment later.

He and Marc were sitting on what appeared to be treated log – a three metre length of pine trunk that had been liberally doused in preservative and dumped in the middle of Dave’s backyard. To the right of them was an old tin bathtub filled with ice that everyone seemed to be using as the communal beer locker and on the patio dead ahead was Dave, valiantly defending his prized sound system from would-be DJ’s. At rough count, even though it was not quite eight o’clock, at least thirty people had gathered in and around Dave’s house for what Alec understood was the weekly brain stewing event. One half was already drunk and most of the other half - he was the only exception - appeared to be trying really hard to catch up.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Marc muttered irritably, “stop looking like someone’s gonna eat you. This is a party and parties are supposed to be fun. You look as if you’re heading for the bloody guillotine!”

“Well I’ve got just what the doctor ordered for party nerves.” Marc grinned as he thrust an icy XXXX at Alec. “This here is a time tested remedial beverage that’s never known to fail.” At that, he twisted the lid off his own beer and raised the bottle up for a toast. “So to insobriety… skol!”

“Ah, what’s this then?” Allen called out as he approached their log. “You showed…”

“Obviously.” Marc grunted from Alec’s side. “He’s sitting there isn’t he?”

“Err, have a beer?” Alec offered timidly, not realising that Allen and Marc more often than not simply greeted each other like this and no real malice was intended.

“So what the fuck took you so long to get here?” Marc asked after his mate had taken a hefty swallow and seated himself. “It’s after eight already and thanks to Alec’s new found popularity and my rugged good looks, we’d had to beat off people with big sticks to save you your seat.”

Allen burped loudly. “Me damn sister is what. Phallus had her irritating little monkey friends over and mum had to drop em all off before dropping me here. Dude, you have no idea how annoying it is to be stuck in a car with four screaming fourteen year olds who insist on listening and…” he cringed, “singing along to the bum-sex boys!”

“Thank God I don’t.” Marc poured the rest of his beer down his throat and got himself another. “Callie’s into techno and most people can’t sing along to that crap without a voice synthesiser and sub woofers.”

Allen shrugged. “Otherwise known as the Backdoor Boys, if that helps.” At that, he raised his bottle and drained it in a single long pull. “So laddies, gimme the heads up, who’s hot and who’s not this fine night?”

Marc glanced around and for no reason that Alec could comprehend, assumed a bad Cockney sounding accent: “Reght, tha wae Ah sae ert, tharse thrae Aye’s, an Aye mahnas, teoh Baez arnd saex Seas. Tha raest ya caen forgaet abot witho ayenie raegrets.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Alec inquired. “And in Australian this time please.”

“Doh, pussy of course!” Marc grinned happily. “Three A’s, an A-, two B’s and six C’s. It’s a rudimentary grading system on the shag factor. Unfortunately, it doesn’t include a probability of success factor.” He turned to Allen. “By the way, you remember Dave’s cousin, Sandy?”

“Yeah, she’s here with a couple of her mates who incidentally make up one of the ‘B’s and three of the ‘C’s’. Anyway, I don’t give a rat’s ass about them, but I’ve got first dibs on Sandy.”

“Under the sacred infallible law of ‘I saw her first’ I do.” Marc declared caging a cigarette off Alec. Sparking up, he grinned and added, “so you can just wait in line for sloppy seconds.”

As Alec watched his new friends continue to bicker about who got first dibs on a girl neither had spoken three words to yet, two figures, floating a foot above Dave’s backyard fence, where by rights they should have been visible against the moon to any who looked their way, watched him.

“Master, I don’t mean any disrespect, but why are we here? I can understand your need to keep an eye on your son but…”

“Why did I bring you along?” Menthayel shot his shorter companion a wry grin.

Menthayel’s eyes returned to the scene of teenage revelry and the seconds ticked by in silence. Finally the angel murmured, “As his father, I’m understandably curious to see how he behaves at his first beer party but that’s not the only reason I’m here, that reason explains only my presence.” He lapsed into silence again deliberately giving his subordinate time to figure things out for himself.

When Liam remained silent, Menthayel sighed loudly. “I’m disappointed in you, Liam.” The angel turned to regard the other Watcher, his expression plainly irritated. “As the highest ranking member of my Sigurdian Inner Circle, I must say I had expected you to be more observant. It seems my expectations were somewhat… misplaced…”

Liam swallowed nervously. While the angel had made him what he was today, a power amongst his own kind, there was no doubt in Liam’s mind that Menthayel could destroy him with the same ease he could destroy any other human. Liam carefully studied the party goers again calling upon senses no human possessed to aid him.

“The dark-haired one,” Liam said at last. “There are faint flickers of chaos embedded in his aura…” He glanced at his master questioningly. “But we already have a candidate for our project, why do we need this one?”

“We’ don’t need him, at least not yet.” Menthayel answered. “But we have had candidates before and you more than any other should know, ALL, thus far have failed. Miserably. Take note of this one, I’m merely keeping my options open.”

“I understand.” Liam nodded. “My Watchers shall keep an eye on this…” his brow furrowed as he dug out a name from the boy’s mind, “…Allen Tanison should he someday be needed...”

Alec watched Marc attempt to get his groove on with their host’s cousin, a faint, somewhat stupid smile on his face.

“Ten bucks says the short, slant-eyed bum fails miserably.” Allen dug his elbow into Alec’s ribs and giggled.

Alec laughed, raised his bottle to his mouth and took a slurp of beer, feeling pleasantly buzzed. In a totally useless, unindustrious, environmentally detrimental, completely irrelevant fashion, this was an insane amount of fun. They weren’t doing anything really, just sitting on a log getting drunk and making fun of people, but for perhaps the first time in his short life, Alec actually felt like he belonged.

Allen dragged his eyes off Sandy’s heavenly rack – showed to good advantage in a white crop top two sizes too small – and glanced at Alec. “Eh? Oh, no worries mate.”

“Means a lot to me…” Alec mumbled. He was, of course quite drunk by now and as drunks often do, was getting emotional. “Never really had any friends so I appreciate the gesture...”

“Oh, for fucks sake!” Allen snapped irritably. “You’re bringing a fucking tear to my eye! ‘Ere, shaddup have another beer before you make me start bawling my eyes out.”

Alec drained the dregs out of his bottle and accepted the fresh one Allen thrust at him. “Cheers mate.”

Marc shot his friend an irritated glance. “I’m back aren’t I, you dumb prick!”

“Crashed and burned.” Allen winked at Alec before addressing Marc again. “So what was the problem? She like em tall dark and handsome, ahem, like me?”

“Go fuck a dead horse, mate!” Marc snapped. “But if you really must know, she’s already taken.”

“Oh that’s too bad.” Allen feigned pity, badly. “See, what you need to do is stop wasting time licking around the tush and get straight to the cunt of the matter. Watch me.” He turned to the nearest group of girls who Alec recognised from his Remedial English class. “Yo Tracey, Marc bet me a tenner I couldn’t cage a sloppy hummer off you?” Allen called out happily. “Whaddaya say?”

He received a dour look and the bird. “Pay him.” Tracey, a slender deeply tanned brunette in the centre of the group shot back.

Allen turned back to his friends with the air of someone who’d just discovered the cure for cancer. “See? Only took me five seconds to work out whether the possibility of nookie existed. You wasted half an hour on that other bint just to hear the same thing. That’s, how you do it!”

Marc snorted. “Has it ever occurred to you that your approach might be the reason you find out so quickly that you haven’t got a hope?”

He laid the single white rose under the dais and took his usual seat at the end of the grave.

“Hey there mother.” Alec grinned. “Sorry I haven’t visited lately back a lot of stuff has happened. For starters, I kicked the shit out of that bastard Matt. Remember, he was the one I was telling you about ages ago, the one who’d taken over my shit-kicking when Jerry left? Man you should have seen it! Everyone was just flat out stunned, and to be honest, so was I. It was just like something out a movie, you know the deal when every move looks like it’s been choreographed and rehearsed a hundred times over to get it to look just right? And I can’t even begin to tell you what it felt like! God it was so friggin’ liberating that I still can’t get over the fact that it was me doing it!

“And Steve was so proud! You should have seen the look on his face! Lindsey was more subdued but that made sense because she never liked violence but Steve! He brought a case of beer on the way home from school and then the two of us went out on the deck and drank the whole thing.” Here his expression turned slightly sheepish. “Actually, I only had like ten or so… okay seven, but it was so cool to sit out there and drink with him! Then there was dad. He showed up later that night, or the next morning actually and it was like the first time in recent memory that I actually saw him smile! Not those irritating little half smiles he usually wears, an actual full on proper smile!”

As his thoughts lingered on his father, Alec’s expression darkened into a scowl that while angry, also hinted at his unease. “Mum, he says he can read my mind... sounds like bullshit I know, but he told me what I was thinking at the time and coincidence my skinny arse! What’s the go there?”

Although the conversation was strictly one way as there was only one speaker, Alec had always felt he was actually talking to his mother, even if she wasn’t physically there and never replied. Because he treated his talks with her as an actual conversation with another person, there was a slight pause as Alec let his mother digest the information.

“I don’t like the idea my thoughts aren’t private mum. I mean I know its dad and I know he’s not gonna go tell people what I’m thinking about, but I just don’t like the idea he can see in my head. It’s hard to explain properly, but it just feels damn uncomfortable. I actually wish I’ve never found out he could do that because then I wouldn’t care, but now that I know, I’m gonna try to censure my thoughts around him and the second I try to do that, I’m gonna think about the very things I want to keep private so everything, excuse my French, just gets fucked up even more.”

His eyes lingered on his mother’s name, etched into the cold marble. “How did you deal with that? I mean you two obviously spent a lot of time together, could he read your mind? Where you even aware of it?”

Alec didn’t expect an answer as dead people in general didn’t tend to be very talkative, so when none came, he merely sighed loudly and lit a cigarette.

Blowing out a cloud of smoke, he glanced over his shoulder at the rows of headstones that stretched out a hundred odd metres behind him. “Lots and lots of dead people…” he muttered with a faraway look in his green eyes, “with a veritable shitload of information between them. Now if only someone here knew how to hide one’s own thoughts…” he chuckled to himself before adding, “and found a way to convey that information to me, I’d be eternally grateful.”

Alec glanced at his watch for a moment before turning back to his mother’s headstone. “Anyways, its almost noon and Lindsey wants me to help Steve paint the fence before…” the words trailed off something on as his mother’s headstone caught his eye.

For a long time Alec just stared at the grey slab of marble unsure of what had initially drew his attention. In the back of his mind he was dimly aware of a faint tugging in his head as if he were trying to remember something but the sensation was so vague he paid it almost no mind. Slowly, his eyes stopped making sense of what he was seeing, his vision greying out as his eyes remained locked on the pale grey marble. Soon it seemed like he was looking down a long tunnel with shifting grey walls at small slightly paler grey circle in the centre that was filled with glowing golden characters. The script – it just felt like writing – was like nothing he’d ever seen before, but as he started at the thin angular characters, they began to move, changing shape and size until they were finally recognisable as Roman letters.

“'Loving mother of Alec Roth…” He 'read aloud. Blinking, he shook his head and stared at the words in confusion. No longer glowing, they lay etched in the grey marble before him looking exactly as they’d always looked.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Alec whispered, his eyes wide with fear and his throat dry. Random hallucinogenic bouts concerning headstone writing wasn’t the sort of thing that usually happened to him and he was more than a little freaked! Shakily, he dug into his pockets for his cigarettes.

“Mum what’s going on?” He asked the grave. “Am I losing my mind or what?”

Alec received no answer to his questions, the silence of the cemetery only broken by the noise of crickets in the background. He sucked a deep lungful of tar and glanced at his watch only to receive another surprise. It was almost three o’clock! Somehow, on top of seeing glowing letters, he had managed to lose three hours with no valid explanation on where the time had gone!

Alec knew perfectly well he wasn’t on any. He almost wished he was. At least then, this would all make more sense. He dropped his cigarette and stamped it out trying to ignore the fierce hammering of his heart. Then, with a final glance at the grave, he spun on his heel and ran.

“Cripes boy!” Steve, perpetual Friday arvo beer (its 23 mates were already cooling in the fridge) already in hand, exclaimed as he took a step forward to stand next to his adopted son. “What the blazes has Lindsey been feeding you? Weight Gain 2000 growth hormones? One minute you’re this little runt short enough to parachute out of a snake’s arse and the next you’re practically my height!”

Alec leant his rake against the side of the backyard shed and straightened his back with a grin. In the three months since he’d put Matt in the hospital, he had gained a significant bit of height as his growth spurt had finally kicked in with a vengeance. Now at just over six feet, he could almost stand toe to toe and look his foster father level in the eye. He wasn’t quite as wide across the shoulders as Steve was, but his formerly scrawny frame had been filling out just the same and the term ‘runt’ clearly no longer applied.

“Well isn’t the world full of surprises!” Alec laughed. “Another South Park fan in the house! But if you must know, it’s probably all that beer you and me friggin’ mates keep trying to drown me in. I was running out of places to store it so the rest of me just had to make more room.”

“Oh well then,” Steve huffed, “the last thing we want is you running to fat. Maybe I should take the third world approach and make you cut the glass with a machete. A little hard yard work should keep you in fighting trim.”

“You do that and you’ll wake up without eyebrows!” Alec glared. He was rewarded, an instant later, with yet another of Steve’s heavy handed pats on the back.

“Watch it, kiddo!” Steve warned jokingly. “You may have grown some but I can still knock you on your hind parts if I had a mind to. More importantly, I can still drink you under the table any day of the week!”

Alec raised a sly eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like a challenge… old man.”

“Old man my foot!” Steve exploded. “That’s it! Put your stomach where your mouth is, you little upstart! I’m going to the bottle shop right now to get as much XXXX as I can load into the car and when I get back we’ll see what’s what!”

“Oooh, you’re gonna’ be so sorry you called me an old man…” Steve grinned evilly as he snatched his car keys off the patio table, “when you’re puking your guts up and begging for quarter over the sound of my triumphantly insane laughter.”

Whistling a merry tune, he grabbed the rake and began to frantically gather up the dead leaves scattered about the yard. If he worked fast, he could probably get it all done before Steve returned.

Alec found his new mates something of an enigma. While they’d mercilessly drub shit on people they didn’t like, there didn’t seem to be any urgency in anything they did. They weren’t jocks even though they both played footy when it was in season and soccer when footy was out. They didn’t particularly care about their grades or climbing the school’s social hierarchy, either. In short, they just didn’t give a crap about anything – fluid transfers with the opposite sex and staying alive being about the only possible exceptions. When he’d enquired about that, Allen had simply shrugged and said, “Why bother, really? We’re just here and that’s that.” The simple statement summed them up in a nutshell.

Still, they accepted him as he was and didn’t seem to actually require anything of him so as far as Alec was concerned. It was a good arrangement. He’d take part, or not, in the conversation when it suited him and they wouldn’t bat an eyelid either way. Most people wouldn’t have seen it as a glorious arrangement, but Alec wasn’t most people. He was quietly content.

“Either one of you wanna’ tell me how this is a tradition?” he asked dryly.

He was seated at a table in the food court of the local Westfield mall with Allen and Marc.

“I may as well.” Allen shrugged. Turning to Alec he said, “Well, the Saturday lunch is something we’ve always done since we were old enough to get out of the house unsupervised. Do something long enough it becomes a tradition. There!”

“Okaaay.” Alec rolled his eyes. “But why’d you need to get out of the house anyway and why Macca’s? I mean, surely there are better places to eat? Someplace that served actual food for example…”

“I suppose.” said Allen, “but we started at Macca’s so at Macca’s we stayed. Eating elsewhere would break the tradition.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Personally, I think it was a dumbarse thing to start in the first place but why leave the house anyway?”

Marc said, “Well that was mostly my doing. See we’re not fond of cooking at my place. Mum’s not half bad in the kitchen and Callie makes a mean cream cheese and vegemite sandwich when she has a mind to but if either of them can avoid doing even that, they will. Now as for me, I’m perfectly capable of burning water. Usually we’d just pick something up after the morning grocery run but staying at home on a Saturday is kinda’ boring anyway. I suppose Callie and I could have taken the time to learn to cook something other than instant noodles, but we really couldn’t be bothered. So when she started going out, I started going out,” he nodded across the table at Allen, “and I dragged asswipe here along for company.”

Allen finished the story. “At first we just wandered around aimlessly but then we’d always get hungry eventually, and hit Macca’s. So the tradition was born and now almost every Saturday sees us back here, or someplace else with a Macca’s branch, having lunch. Satisfied?”

“Well, fuck you then,” Allen snorted, without malice. “So, ladies, ante up. What are we having today? The traditional?”

“You have the damn traditional!” Marc spat disgustedly. “I’m through with the fucking traditional!”

“Duh, Dougie!” Allen said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The traditional is a large Big Mac meal though our little gook buddy there has been leaning towards McChicken burgers as of late.” Leaning towards Alec, he rubbed the side of his not insubstantial nose. “He’s just not man enough to handle the Mac.”

“Screw you, hippy!” Marc shot back testily. “It’s because the lettuce, cheese gunk, and all the other non-organic substances oozing out of the arse end of a Big Mac when you take a bite into it has pissed me off one too many times.” He paused to push a ten dollar bill across the table. “So yeah, McChicken it is.”

“I think I’ll waltz over to KFC next door and get a zinger.” Alec shrugged.

Marc and Allen looked positively scandalised. “Nooo!” They wailed in unison before turning to glare at Alec as if he’d just committed the gravest of sins, like throw a full carton of beer off a cliff.

Marc stood up stiffly and pointed an accusing finger at the newest addition to his company. “Dare you spurn the sacred tradition of the Saturday lunch by defecting to the fowl Colonel’s camp?”

Allen clasped his hands together and stared solemnly at the statue of a ridiculous looking red haired clown nearby. “Forgive him, Ronald,” he intoned piously, “for he knows not the vile despicability of what he contemplates…”

Pushing his chair away from the table, Alec stood up slowly. “God, but you two are a pair of retards!” he scowled, spinning on his heel and joining the nearest MacDonald’s queue. “Well?” He snapped irritably, “are you fools gonna eat some imitation food or what?”

They stood statue-still, almost unnoticed by all in an unoccupied corner of the food court.

“He progresses well, Master,” Liam said. “The scrawny little boy no longer exists.”

His taller companion nodded once. “He is his father’s son.” There was pride in his voice.

“So what will you do now? Unlock his mind? Surely he is ready for it by now?”

His expression icy, Menthayel turned to regard his servant. “Who are you to tell me when my son is ready to claim his inheritance?”

Feeling his master’s anger rise and only too aware of the nearly unsurpassed might of an enraged archangel, Liam wasted no time in executing a differential bow. “Forgive me, my Lord. I did not presume to advise…”

“Silence!” Menthayel snapped. “I am no Lord, as you well know.” His eyes returned to the boy who would soon become a mirror image of himself. “Leave me. Oversee to our chaos project if you must, but get out of my sight!” the last five words were delivered in a low vehement hiss.

His eyes still on his son, Menthayel whispered, “But as much as it pains me to admit, you have a point, you snivelling little worm. It is time my son come into his inheritance.” He closed his eyes as golden tendrils of energy issuing from his outstretched hands weaved their way across the crowded food court towards his son.

On a different layer of existence, a place neither bright nor dark, but rather, a shade in-between, another observed the archangel’s actions with interest.

“So at last you remove your barriers, angel.” The woman said softly. “I would have overcome them in time but not without risking damage to the one thing we both have in common. The one thing we both hold dear, be that as it may, for differing reasons.”

Eyes of a striking violet hue narrowed slightly as she shifted her perceptions to see the barrier wards placed on Alec’s mind dissolve in accordance with his father’s will. “It is indeed time, Menthayel. You have denied me my rights to my legacy for far longer than I should ever forgive you for.” Then, at odds with a serene face of unsurpassed beauty, her tone turned painfully grating. “He is my son, too!”

The Nephelim
Chapter 1
animus and Staine

Act I

The Nephelim Chapter 1 animus and Staine

Act I

The Nephelim
Chapter 1
animus and Staine