“There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.”
* The Book of Genesis
Kain leaned back in his chair, momentarily dumbfounded. The question the mysterious man had asked him instead of answering his own questions was not at all what he expected. Who was he? Did this chair-manifesting, Greek godfather of a man not bother to check whom his invitations were sent to? Was there a third party involved who protected the identities of both employer and employee? How did Kain find himself flown across the country, drugged, shanghaied, and currently sitting across from the man who likely orchestrated it all, only for the man to ask him who he was? He contemplated drawing his weapon for a long moment, consequences be damned, before it dawned on him.
Kain was being a fool. He does know, he realized. He knows exactly who and what I am. So, what was the man playing at? Did he mean to imply that Kain did not know who he was? He had considered his own existence many times, and even made peace with it. He was the bastard son of a drugged-out whore who, due to a higher-than-average intelligence and an indomitable will, had managed to carve out a name for himself. He was well-trained, cold and calculating. He was a sociopath and a killer. Yes, he was all those things. So, what was it that the man sitting in front of him thought he knew that Kain did not? The man waited patiently, his intensity not once wavering as he watched Kain putting the pieces together. His problem-solving ability really was quite remarkable, and it was only the barest span of moments before Kain looked up, the light of revelation once again reflected in his eyes. Kain knew who and what he was, true, but there was one small bit of information missing.
“I am my father’s son.” It was such a simple statement, and one he had considered quite irrelevant for most of his life. After all, what did a statement like that mean to one who had never even met his father? He had spent a small amount of time seeking the man out when he reached adulthood, but he might as well have been a ghost for all the information Kain could find. Other than the blood running in his veins and a few well-crafted facial features, Kain had nothing to show for being the son of a random drifter. An old curiosity kindled to life as Kain regarded at the man sitting across from him. Just what did his father have to do with this?
“Just so,” the man was smiling again. “But I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’ve no idea what that actually means. So, tell me, Kain, what do you know about your father?”
Kain was unsure how to answer the strange man’s question. He suspected the man already knew how uninformed he was on this particular subject, but Kain believed in never revealing a weakness to a potential threat. And whatever this man was, he was definitely a threat. The dilemma was soon taken out of his hands, as the man’s patience for Kain’s long pauses was reaching its limitations.
“My dear boy, let me save us both some time,” The man’s smile was still present, but his eyes and tone had both hardened. “You cannot deceive me, and you cannot bluff your way through a question to which I already know the answer.”
The man lifted a glass of dark red wine to his lips. A glass of wine Kain was positive had not even existed a second ago. Between this display of what Kain could only call magic, and the fact that the man seated across from him seemed to be able to peer into his very soul, he was once again shown how utterly out of his depth he was. He came to a decision then.
“Fair enough,” he said, dropping all pretenses of manipulating the conversation. “You know I don’t have a clue who my father is. Obviously, you do.”
“Obviously,” the man agreed, some of his joviality returning. “In truth, who he is, or rather, was, has very little bearing on this conversation, save one thing: his legacy. Which brings us back to you.”
Kain had no clue what the man meant, of course. His father’s legacy? To his knowledge there was no legacy, at least not that he was a part of. Kain was reminded of an earlier thought that had occurred to him: this man wants something from me, and apparently it has to do with some legacy my father left behind. Too bad Kain was not part of whatever this legacy was. He was roused from his musings by a snort, followed by a chuckle. The man took out a cigar and lit it, before continuing to speak.
“You know, I expected you to be sharper than this, Kain,” the man now held a look of mock disapproval. “You are your father’s legacy, boy. Through you, he has passed on a…rather special gift. And it is because of this gift that you are here.”
Kain let the insult roll off him as he watched the man take a large puff from his cigar, looking down at it appreciatively. It appeared they had finally arrived at the crux of their meeting, and he did not begrudge the man savoring the moment. He also did not expect the man’s next question.
“How much do you know about genetic coding?”
Kain thought back to his training in the military and his own scholarly pursuits. He knew the bare basics involved with genetics, but precious little beyond that. Genetic coding was still considered to be cutting edge science, and even those considered to be experts in their field had only scratched the surface of possibility.
“Afraid I can’t help ya there. Genetics was never my field,” Kain responded honestly. “I have a basic understanding of what it is, but that’s about it.”
“Yes, your species as a whole seems to be woefully lacking in that area,” the man agreed. “But that is probably for the best. Some secrets are best left alone, after all.”
The man casually tossed the remains of his cigar and his wine glass into the fire, before turning back to regard Kain seriously once more.
“I will be brief then, as our time together is drawing to a close, and you have a decision to make,” the man leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, a king settling into his throne. “Your father carried within his DNA a very specific genetic code, one dating back thousands of years. Buried deep within this genetic code is, quite simply, a recipe for excellence. Your father passed this genetic code on to you.”
The man paused, giving Kain a moment to process what he was saying. His father’s legacy was special genes? Kain found that both curious and interesting, considering his mixed personal history. He decided to let the man continue before forming his own opinion, however. It was possible that answers were forthcoming. He was not disappointed.
“As I said, this genetic code dates back quite a long way,” he continued. “In ancient times, when mankind was still a young species, they assigned a name to your kind. You were called Nephiyl.”
At the mention of that word, Kain stiffened. Was this some kind of practical joke? Had the man across from him, and whatever bizarre organization he belonged to, been toying with him the whole time? Or worse, was he crazy? Some kind of religious fanatic? Kain stared hard at the man, once again trying to read him, and once again coming up empty. He snorted. The man was obviously having a go at him.
“Nephilim,” he recited, disdain etched all over his face. “Please tell me you don’t actually expect me to believe in some old Jewish myth.”
“Many myths find their beginnings in fact,” the man replied cryptically, not at all surprised that Kain was familiar with the word. Kain, however, had finally had enough.
“Let me make sure I follow you,” he said evenly, trying to maintain his self-control as he felt that old rage boil up within him. “You think that I’m the descendant of an ancient giant that was some fallen angel’s kid. That about right?”
The man across from him actually laughed this time, seeming genuinely amused by Kain’s response.
“No boy! That is just some superstitious old scholar’s fantastical interpretation of a word from a dead language that does not translate, based on a vague description in a very old scroll,” the man chuckled again as he pulled out a worn Bible from inside his jacket. “You seem to be at least somewhat informed on the subject. Turn to Genesis and show me where it talks about fallen angels.”
Kain took the proffered book but did not bother to open it. He knew the passage dealing with the Nephilim did not actually mention fallen angels, having studied this subject before. He had a sort of morbid fascination with religion, his own life being so far removed from it, and one of his deep dives into Judaism and Christianity had led him to researching the Nephilim and the bene Elohim, or sons of God. There were, of course, multiple interpretations on what was happening in the sixth chapter of Genesis, but one of the most popular theories was that the phrase “sons of God” referred to angels, as was the case in Job. The man in front of him was obviously of a different opinion, and Kain waited quietly to hear his thoughts on the matter.
“Good,” the man started again, nodding in satisfaction. “You have heard the myth of the Nephilim. Now it is time for you to hear the truth. The nephiyl existed, but they were not some form of half-breed giants. They were the result of the combination of two unique bloodlines. You might call it an early genetic experiment that created an anomaly.”
The man paused again to make sure Kain was following him. Kain nodded for him to continue, drawn into the man’s story despite himself.
“The sons of God mentioned were a chosen sect, a ‘pure’ bloodline descended from the first of your kind,” the man continued, again speaking of mankind as if he was separate. Kain decided to file that question away for later as the man proceeded with his explanation. “The daughters of men referred to another sect of people with an ‘impure’ bloodline. The two were never meant to procreate, but human desire is a powerful thing.”
Kain could not argue with that. Human history was fraught with the consequences of selfish desire. Even his own history lent credence to the statement.
“So, these two sects intermingled, and the nephiyl were the result?”
“The nephiyl were an…unforeseen consequence,” a look of dark humor crossed the man’s face as he spoke. “The DNA of the two sects blending resulted in the formation of a new genetic code. This code allowed the offspring later known as Nephilim to become stronger. Faster. Better than their predecessors. Some even became giants, garnering them the description presented in Genesis. But…”
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“But they were monsters,” Kain finished, having heard the rest of the story. “Their behavior was erratic, at best, and often violent. Their wickedness even helped contribute to the destruction of the world shortly thereafter.”
“As you say,” the man inclined his head. “The world was purged, and with it, the nephiyl. But. The genetic code survived, lying dormant in the DNA of a few of the flood survivors.”
Kain looked down at his hands, taking the man’s story in slowly. He did not know enough about ancient history or genetics to postulate on either, but the story sounded plausible. And if it was indeed true, then what did that mean for him?
“You said the code was dormant in the DNA,” Kain said as he looked up to meet the man’s cold stare once again. “Wouldn’t that mean it was essentially useless?”
The smile he received in response actually sent a chill up his spine.
“Every once in a while, the bloodline awakens. The results…are quite spectacular,” the man stood, walking toward the door of the small lodge. “Which, once again, brings us to you, Mr. Hunter.”
He opened the door and stepped out into the cold, gray morning.
Kain sat in contemplation as he stared at the still-open doorway. A deep, permeating cold began creeping into the one-room shack, slowly and steadily stealing the meager warmth provided by the now dying fire. A gust of mountain wind wrapped its icy embrace around the winged armchair in which Kain currently sat; an armchair that, until very recently, did not exist. He hardly noticed the dropping temperature, so deeply was he consumed by his own thoughts. Was any of this actually possible?
His conversation with the strange, and powerful man had answered most of his previously pressing questions, but it had raised so many more. His genetic code was so special that God had reached down from the heavens personally to wipe his predecessors from the earth? Did that mean that the Hebrew God was real? Was he in some sort of mortal danger and never realized it? And who was this mysterious benefactor that seemed to know more about him than he himself did? What did he want with him? Did Kain even trust the man at his word?
He found that he did. Never mind the fact that pulling a ruse like this on a mercenary to gain their cooperation was pointless when all you had to do was pay them, Kain found that the man’s words resonated deep within his soul. It all fit, from his natural skills to his lack of a moral compass. Somehow, without even being offered proof, Kain believed every word of the story he had been told. Which just left him with more questions, not the least of which was the man’s role in the story. He had been very tight-lipped about himself throughout their discussion, giving away almost nothing…
Kain was finally roused from his musings when he heard voices outside the lodge. He smiled to himself as he rose from his chair, making his way to the open doorway. He recognized a few of those voices all too well. It seemed like he had been right after all: His recent acquaintances had also been invited to this little soiree. Time would tell if that would benefit him or not. Meanwhile, it was at least nice to be around familiar faces.
Kain stepped out into the cold, grey world beyond the doorway and found himself immediately beset by the full force of the icy wind common to these heights. Winter might not quite hold sway down in Laramie, this early in the season, but here, where the earth reached out to touch the heavens, here was Winter’s permanent domain. Kain took in his surroundings appreciatively as his body slowly adjusted to the climate. He was currently standing near the edge of a plateau jutting off the western face of a moderately-sized mountain. His hunting lodge was one of several, placed in a large ring around the plateau. An icy path leading back toward the face of the mountain seemed to be the only method of egress from his current location. He was unable to spend much time analyzing his immediate surroundings any further, as the view facing away from the plateau commanded his attention.
He silently regarded the massive landscape unfolding before him. White-capped peaks slowly revealed themselves to the sun as it erased the last vestiges of night from the range. Swaths of snow-covered evergreens peppered the mountains and valleys, while occasional bursts of oranges, reds, and yellows wove a tapestry of beauty and death across the landscape. Rivers and streams flowed along an extensive network of icy blue veins, completing the picturesque scene. Life. Death. And the perpetual cycle of breathtaking conflict the two were locked in. Kain took it all in as he stood on top of the world. But, he thought to himself as he observed the eternal struggle, Death will always win in the end. He turned away from the view and began making his way to the center of the camp, where the rest of the occupants were gathering.
It appeared that he and his new friends were not the only ones “selected” to take part in this little adventure. A quick count told Kain there were twenty-four candidates present, ranging widely in appearance. Kieran was there, with Raven and Layla. They were engaging in light conversation with a hulking brute of a man with ebony skin. There were several militant looking types from all over the world, judging by accents and languages. A few others were gathered off to the side, heads together talking quietly. They wore non-descript suits of quality tailoring. Kain smirked. John Wick would be proud.
Further away, what looked like a Somali pirate was laughing boisterously as he spoke to a man with olive skin wearing a light-colored thawb. Men. Women. Butchers. Slavers. Spies. Psychopaths. At a quick glance, it looked like a gathering of the world’s most wanted. Whoever this organization was, their resources must be terrifying. Kain wandered over to Kieran and the others, observing as he went. Many of those present were acting as if gathering on the side of a mountain with strange and dangerous people was the most natural thing in the world. Others, himself included, were quietly watching and waiting. And still others were openly hostile, glaring at anyone who stepped too close. But underneath it all was a tense anticipation. Everyone, Kain included, was waiting for whatever was going to happen next.
“Nice of ya to grace us with your presence,” Kieran started in with his usual taunting. “Catching up on your beauty sleep, I take it?”
“Well, one of us had to,” Kain joked back lightly, before turning to the big man next to Layla and holding out his hand. “Kain Hunter. And you are?”
“Damon Sèvére,” the man replied, his voice deep and flowing. Kain was quick to recognize a fellow southerner, Creole by the sound of his name.
“Thibodaux?” Kain asked, trying to pin down the accent.
“Presque,” he replied with a laugh. “Dulac.”
“Makes sense,” Kain nodded, looking at the others. “How did y’all manage to find the only other southerner on this god-forsaken mountain?”
“Well,” Layla spoke up, her eyes dancing with humor, “our token cowboy disappeared on us. We had to find a suitable replacement. You missed breakfast by the way.”
Kain could hear the question in her tone. Apparently, not everyone had been visited by a chair conjuring wizard this morning. That was interesting. He decided not to divulge the contents of his conversation just yet, instead playing along with Layla and Kieran.
“Yeah, my seven thirty ran a little long,” he joked, noting the significance of his statement by the sharp looks all around him. He just shrugged. “Clients, amirite?”
“You had a little visit from our sponsors, eh?” Raven asked, direct as always.
“Yep!” Kain nodded with a smile. “He was quite the chatty Kathy. Kinda gave me a heads up about the qualifications they’re looking for.”
Kain looked around at the group seeing only mild surprise and confusion. He figured that not everyone had received an initial debrief, but he had expected at least a few others to be informed.
“So, none of you…?” he left the question open.
“Yeah, no,” it was Kieran who responded. “We all woke up with a note next to us explaining that breakfast was outside and that our interviews would begin shortly. That’s it.”
That was odd. Why had his morning encounter been different? Was he the only one with Nephiyl blood? Or perhaps he was the only one who had some idea of what it meant. Kain did not have long to ponder the subject, as a murmur ran through the crowd. Kain and his group looked around to see several men and women exiting one of the lodges. The crowd slowly quieted as the newcomers made their way to the center of the plateau, where a large dais rested.
They were quite an eclectic bunch, gathering in front of the scattered candidates. Kain recognized his morning visitor, standing between two flawlessly beautiful women. There was a dark-skinned man in a top hat, standing next to an ugly, pale ogre of a man with one eye. A woman in traditional Indian garb stood by a stooped old Arab. There were twelve of them in all, each one unique with a bit of an other-worldly look about them. Every single one gazed out with the same imperious gaze, save one who had a sort of blank, vacant stare. Something about that stare unnerved Kain, almost as though there was nothing behind it. His attention was drawn away, however, when one of the women stepped forward and began to speak.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!” Kain recognized her voice immediately. It was the same voice from his lodge this morning, and it had an interesting effect on the plateau. He could see that the woman was speaking in a normal tone, and yet he heard her voice, yet again, as if it was right next to his ear. It was…unsettling, and he could see that the woman knew it, and enjoyed it.
“Welcome to the Medicine Bow Mountains,” she continued, enlightening the group as to their location. “We hope that the trip was not too jarring, and that you will enjoy the duration of your stay here.”
Everything, from her posture to her eyes, and even her tone, oozed seduction, as if to add certain implications to her statement. Kain noted several of the men present nodding appreciatively, including the pirate and his slaver companion. He suspected that, should they try to avail themselves of the woman’s implied invitation, their stay on the mountain would be cut abruptly short. She was beautiful, there was no question. But she also reeked of danger. They all did. The woman noticed the attention she was receiving and smiled indulgently before continuing.
“Now, to business! You were invited here because each of you has a particular skillset, and we have work that requires those skills,” Kain noted how she effortlessly skated over the fact that she and her companions had, for lack of a better term, kidnapped twenty-four people. They were literally a captive audience. He smirked at his own horrible pun.
“Before we elaborate on that opportunity, we thought you might like to know who has been…behind the curtain, so to speak,” she giggled lightly as she said that last part, as though her terrible joke was actually amusing. She extended her arms out to encompass her comrades. “We represent a conglomerate of some of the oldest, and most profitable businesses in the world. We have gone by various aliases over the years, as necessary, but as a collective we are known as the Cardinals of Sin.”
Several things happened in rapid succession following the woman’s pronouncement. The wind died down and an unnatural stillness settled over the plateau. A cloud obscured the sun, which was beginning to finally crest the mountain, and a deep, bone chilling cold sank into everyone present. A quiet buzz could be heard beneath the silence that had fallen over the group, as if voices were whispering in unintelligible languages off in the distance. The effect was unnerving to Kain as he took it all in.
But, just as quickly as the moment came, it passed. The wind picked back up. The clouds shifted, revealing the warm sun once more. And the insidious sounds were no more, as if they had never been. Kain looked around, gaging the reactions of his fellows. Some appeared concerned, others, mildly confused. Many were unaffected entirely. Kain was unsurprised by this. He had always found it fascinating how, when faced with experiences and truths that were difficult to process, people would often shut down. They would ignore what their senses were screaming at them, in favor of clinging to a world they were better able to understand. Science chalked it up to a mental defensive coping mechanism. Kain viewed it as weakness, a way for people to stick their heads in the sand and avoid the horrors of the real world.
There were also other reactions to the woman’s pronouncement. A few of the candidates were now laughing openly. His group was watching the woman with rapt attention, apprehension in their eyes. He imagined he would have a similar reaction, were it not for his earlier meeting. At this point, he almost expected inexplicable theatrics. What he did not expect was the outrage from several of the people present. More than one posture had stiffened at the woman’s revelation, eyes shining with anger. While the name of the organization had no meaning for him, it apparently did for some present.
“You are a lying whore!” One man spat with a heavy, eastern European accent. He was one of those dressed in a fine suit, the bulge of a heavy caliber pistol outlined in his jacket. Kain idly wondered who the man was, that he had ended up in present company. Human trafficker, perhaps. The man certainly fit the stereotype. Several heads turned toward him, including the woman, as he continued to speak.
“The Cardinals are a myth! A bedtime story told to scare children.” The man made no effort to hide the contempt in his voice as he stared daggers up at the woman. It looked as though the scene would turn rather tense, as the woman’s faux smile descended into an angry frown. The moment was broken, however, when another voice rang out right next to Kain.
“Who in the nethers are the bloody Cardinals?”