Saturday 4 – Saturday 18 December 2010
You know, there are actual websites that contain information on these “groups”.
Ciara nodded that she understood. She sensed the urgency in Claire’s voice, but was reassured a little by her aunt’s calm demeanour.
‘Firstly, these men are a group called Grigori. The Watchers. And, like us, there are good and evil. They have followed us through the generations. We are just like them in some ways. We are descended, as I mentioned, from The Fallen. The angels cast out of Heaven, by God, for committing the one sin. For following him and daring to want to be as God himself. Our family followed the first – Lucifer.’
Ciara burst into laughter. The woman sitting across from her was insane. Solitude and loneliness, Ciara thought, have turned you into a crazy woman. She pushed her chair away from the table and stood to walk off.
‘If you leave now, they will kill you.’ Claire’s words stopped Ciara in her tracks.
‘You are insane, Aunt Claire. Completely stark raving mad. Descendants of The Fallen? What the Hell?’
Claire smiled, ‘Now you’re getting the picture. Hell is exactly right.’
Seeing that the old woman was neither laughing, nor displaying any evidence that she was suffering from some sort of mental breakdown, Ciara returned to sit in the chair.
‘Go on then.’
‘When the Angles were created by God, some chose to follow Lucifer and wage war against the Creator and his army. Our family are descended from one of Lucifer’s followers. They were defeated by the army of God, and He cast them all from Heaven.’
The men’s voices now sounded as if they were at the front door. Ciara could hear their chant. ‘Kill them. Kill them. Last of the line. Kill them.’ She was terrified. What if Aunt Claire was telling the truth?
Claire continued, ‘Some took human wives and procreated. It is thought that the Great Flood was, in part, created to rid the world of these human-angel half-breeds. Some of our ancestors survived. How they did, we’re unsure. But here we are. Have you not ever wondered why you can do some of the things you can?’
Ciara pondered her aunt’s question. Throughout her life, there had been things that Ciara couldn’t account for. Things she could see, and do, and sense. She simply thought that she was different.
‘In the attic, my love, is the history of our family, all documented from the very beginning until now. If we survive this night, you must read it, only then will you believe what I’m telling you. I know. I’ve been where you are now. I’ve investigated this family and I can’t find any evidence to suggest that anything I’ve told you is false. We are The Fallen.’
A booming pounding on the front door interrupted Claire. It startled both of them. The Watchers, the Grigori, were on the doorstep, but Claire remained in her seat, palms down on the kitchen table.
‘The Grigori were meant to watch over humankind. It’s unclear in the family history, when they turned into assassins, but they used their free will, and chose to hunt us down. Not just our family, but as many of the other Fallen as they could find. We are the last of our line. If they succeed, if the Watchers are victorious, the real story of The Fallen will be forgotten. No one on Earth will ever know why Lucifer and his army fell from grace.’
Ciara sat dumbfounded by the pieces of story that she had just heard. It all seemed so fanciful, so fictitious. Had she not studied Theology at university, Ciara might not have believed a single word that fell from her aunt’s lips. Of course, with this story in mind, Ciara briefly wondered if the pull that she felt to study Theology was pre-ordained, given this alleged family history.
The pounding on the front door grew louder. It wouldn’t be long before the Watchers broke through. Then there would only be one line of defence left to the women. They would have to fight for their lives against these almost human entities.
‘I have no idea how they found us. I’ve been so careful all of this time.’ Claire spoke without a hint of agitation.
‘None of this explains why you drugged my tea or locked me in my room.’
The older woman looked slightly ashamed at her deeds. She dropped her head for a moment, and fixed her eyes on the table.
‘It was for your own safety. I had to go out for a bit. I couldn’t let you wander around the streets not knowing what’s out there, what’s coming – come – for you. I don’t apologise for it at all.’
Again, the pounding on the door interrupted Aunt Claire, or rather, the absence of it. The Watchers had stopped. Claire knew better than to believe that they had gone away. They would still be there, waiting, and planning. It was what Claire should be doing as well. Planning. She knew what needed to be done. They must fight for their lives, but Ciara was not ready.
. . . To be continued . . .