Child of Light

One

Olivia James, occult collector and employee of The Orphic Guild, arrived at Moonfell, the huge Gothic mansion on the edge of Richmond Park, when the August day was hot and humid. The gardens were soporific in the midday heat, but instead of soothing her, they made her more irritable. She slammed the car door shut, wincing at the noise that disturbed the collared doves.

“Sorry,” she murmured to their winged figures as they erupted from the trees to head to the orchard. “I’m just cranky.” She placed a hand on her large, round, very pregnant belly. “I’ll be glad when you’re out, little one.”

Nahum Nadir, who’d driven, exited the car a great deal more quietly, his face creased in concern. “You’re not sleeping well. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m pregnant. Poor sleep is to be expected, because this bump allows no comfort! Do you hear that, little one?”

Her handsome, muscular Nephilim partner, who had the most astonishingly beautiful blue eyes and who could and would do anything to ensure she and the baby were safe, could unfortunately do nothing about helping her sleep. “She has grown a lot recently. Is that normal?”

“I’m sure it is, but I guess Morgana will tell us.” The Moonfell witch had many skills, one of them being able to help with fertility and pregnancy. Perhaps she could tell her if the dreams were normal, too. Her vivid dreams of sand and sky and golden stone.

“Olivia?” Nahum’s voice snapped her to the present. “You’re absent again.”

“Just tired.”

She hadn’t told him about the increasing intensity of her dreams, not wanting to worry him or receive endless questions, but seeing as she was about to see Morgana, it might all come out anyway. She found it difficult to lie to the witches, or even omit small truths, and as Morgana was overseeing the paranormal side of this pregnancy, it would be stupid to lie, anyway.

In just over one month, she would give birth to their Nephilim daughter. The first of their line to be born in millennia. Their child who might die within the first few years of life if the Nephilims’ past experience proved to be unchanged. The thought made her feel sick, joy tinged with fear, but as she placed her hand on her bump again, she felt a flutter of movement, and heard the softest of murmurs, like water through reeds.

Before she could analyse it further, Morgana called to them from farther along the outside of the building. “Hello! I’m already in here, so come on through.”

Morgana, the next High Priestess of Moonfell, was only a few years older than Olivia, in her early forties. She was slender and dark-haired, although a lock of long hair that framed her face was silvery-grey, a result of a spell, apparently. As usual she wore black clothing, a dress of Indian cotton printed with a small paisley design in henna brown. Her feet were bare, and she was adorned with silver jewellery.

“Look at you!” Olivia said, admiring her easy boho grace, beside which she felt like a waddling duck. “You look so cool and relaxed. I feel dishevelled and exhausted.”

Morgana smiled as she led them inside her small offices. “You’re eight months pregnant. It’s normal. Not long now, though.” She looked at Nahum. “You must both be looking forward to when she arrives.”

Nahum nodded, casting a look of concern at Olivia. “I am, and getting settled in the new house. It feels like everything is happening at once.”

“We didn’t have to buy a house now,” Olivia reminded him. “We could have waited. Instead, we’re dealing with decorators and fixtures and fittings.”

“I can deal with it all. You can relax.”

“I wish I could.” Her irritability rose again, but she didn’t want to argue in front of Morgana. She was just tired and hot.

Morgana closed the door, shutting them into a cool room that was scented with sandalwood, and Olivia sank into the chair by the desk, ankles aching, the baby moving as if she too was trying to find a comfortable position.

“Something has changed,” Morgana said, never one to mince words as she pulled Olivia out of the chair before she could get settled. “Let’s get you on the bed so I can examine you properly. What’s going on?”

“It’s just the lack of sleep, that’s all. I can’t get comfortable. But that’s normal, surely?” Olivia swung her legs onto the examination table and lay down, then eased down her waistband and lifted her top.

“Yes, but something about your expression suggests otherwise.” Morgana placed her cool hands on her skin, examining her carefully, eyes half closed.

Nahum shot her a worried look. “What is it? Are you ill? Are you not telling me something?”

“Honestly, I’m fine.” Olivia clasped his strong hands. “I’m just having a lot of dreams lately. Really vivid ones.” She laughed. “Maybe that curry we had the other week set them off. Pregnancy does such weird things to your body.”

“Normal, not weird,” Morgana said, most of her attention on the baby. “Just different, that’s all. Your body is meant to do this. However,” her eyes flashed open, fixing on her intently. “Tell me about the dreams. They’re recent, you say? Obviously different to normal dreams or you wouldn’t have mentioned them.”

Olivia nodded, trying to recall when they’d changed. “They’re more intense. More real. More…immersive, somehow.” She glanced at Nahum, worried as to how he would take it. “I dream of endless sand, golden stone, and sometimes lush gardens and courtyards filled with the sound of water.”

“Middle Eastern images,” he suggested.

“Yes. At least I think so.” She shook her head, eyes closing again, and the images came back, unbidden. “I don’t recognise the landscapes at all, but they’re familiar. Comforting, even.”

“And they feel realistic, obviously, despite them being dreams.”

“Exactly.”

“We talk about my past life quite a lot, especially to our daughter.” He shrugged, lips lifting into a shy smile as he turned to Morgana. His smile, so unexpectedly gentle in such a huge man, was one of the many things that made Olivia love him. “We talk as if she can hear, and we tell her of who she is and where she came from. My past, and my brothers’ of course, and Olivia’s. Maybe that’s it, Liv. All these things I describe have just become vivid for you.”

“Well, they have, of course,” Olivia admitted. “I love imagining how your life once was. You’re a window into the past, and it’s wonderful! Surreal, too. But I have another weird suggestion, and you might both think I’m nuts.” It was an odd idea that had struck her with the strange, murmured noise she had heard on the drive.

“I won’t,” Morgana reassured her. “Go on.”

“Could I be seeing what our daughter imagines?”

Nahum huffed, astonished. “As if you’re physically linked?”

“Crazy, right? I knew it was a mad idea.”

“Not mad. It’s an interesting suggestion,” Morgana said, arms folded as she studied Olivia. “What makes you think that? Other than the dreams, of course? There must be something,” she prompted when Olivia fell silent, trying to formulate her thoughts.

She placed herself back into that dream-state, eyes closed again as she filtered through the landscapes she’d seen. “I feel that someone is with me. Walking beside me.” Her eyes flew open again. “That’s not unusual though, is it? We all have dreams when there’s an unknown someone with us. It was so strong, though! And it persisted. Does persist.”

“Interesting.” Morgana’s eyes narrowed as she pondered Olivia’s suggestion. “Your child, of course, could have some kind of magic. You are a magical being after all, Nahum. Half-angel. Part Divine. Did other pregnant human women report this experience, all those years ago?”

“No.”

Olivia looked at him, startled at his abruptness. “You seem very sure. Shouldn’t you at least check with your brothers? Gabe, for example.”

“I don’t need to. I know. But for you, of course I’ll ask again. I just wish you’d mentioned this before.”

“It’s new, and they’re just dreams.”

“Plus,” Nahum said, changing the subject, “Liv is much bigger, suddenly.”

“That’s not unusual,” Morgana reassured him. “The birth is only a few weeks away now. Let me finish my examination, and then once I’m happy that everything physical is good, let’s talk about the dreams again. Your midwife is happy?” She directed this at Olivia.

“Very.”

“Good, because despite how hot and bothered you feel, you look radiant.” Morgana squeezed her hand.

For the next ten minutes, Morgana did all the usual as well as the more unusual things that Olivia had grown used to, such as Morgana’s peculiar stillness as she appeared to listen to the baby, ear pressed to the belly. She studied Olivia’s eyes, felt her pulse, scanned her aura and energy, then prepared teas and herbal concoctions. Only after all that did she return to the dreams. Their frequency, subject matter, and any people that populated them.

“There are no people,” Olivia told her. “Just landscapes. Some images linger, others flit quickly, like cards in a deck.”

“Any voices?”

“No.”

But something must have alerted the very perceptive Morgana, because she frowned. “Really?”

“I heard a murmur on the drive, just after I spoke to her. It was just the wind.”

“There is no wind.”

“Or it could have been the bees or the birds. Actually, it was more like water through reeds. You know, like that old story.”

Morgana’s long drawn out, “Mmmm…” was inconclusive. “I want you to keep a diary, from now onwards until you give birth. A dream diary mostly, but any images you receive during the day, or voices or murmurs, you need to record them, too. Have you named her yet?”

“No,” Nahum said, looking at her askance. “We need to see what suits her.”

“Somehow, I think she has name already. You just need to find it.”

Nahum’s olive complexion turned waxy. “Which means what?”

“Just a feeling I have. It might be wise to let Odette look you over, but she’s ensconced in her art room right now, in the middle of a painting bout. Plus, I don’t think this is urgent.”

Olivia was fascinated by the witches and their lives in Moonfell, as well as the garden and the house itself. It had taken root after they had expelled the splinter of the Fallen Angel Belial and she’d had to stay for a few days, but after coming here for months for check-ups, it had eased under her skin even more. “What’s she painting?”

“Rajgarh again, and the masquerade party. The fey in particular. It’s a shame you missed that, but then again, I think your special child may have drawn considerable attention from the fey, so best you weren’t here.”

“What might they have done?” Olivia asked, struggling to sit up.

“Try and steal her—and you—for a start.”

Olivia felt sick at the idea. Nahum, however, was furious. “Steal them? They’d have had to get past me first.”

“And us, obviously, but trust me, they would have tried.” Morgana brushed it off as if it were nothing. “Right, the diary. Agreed?”

“Of course.” Olivia let Nahum help her to her feet, already craving sleep again. “But if you think Odette should chat to me, just say so. We can come around again.”

“Or we could come to you. You’re still in your flat?”

“Yes. We won’t move until after the birth.”

“We have decorators in the new place,” Nahum explained, “so we won’t have to do too much in the coming months.”

“Wise. And you’re staying close until the birth? No quick trips to Cornwall?”

“No.” Nahum shook his head. “Everyone want to see us, obviously, but we’ll go afterwards. They might, however, come to us first.”

There was no doubt that Nahum’s brothers would be in London before the birth. They were thrilled about the baby, and worried too, considering their history.

Morgana smiled, pleased. “Good. Call me if you have any concerns. And perhaps you should also come next week.”

“You are worried,” Oliva said, breath catching.

“Only intrigued. If I was worried, I’d insist you move in.” She smiled again, immediately setting Olivia at ease. “Perhaps consider going on maternity leave now. Then you can sleep when your body needs it. Actually, I’ve just had an idea,” she said, turning to a cupboard and rummaging inside it. In moments she turned back to them, a large black stone in her hand, smooth and reflective. “Obsidian, useful for scrying. However, I want you to keep it close when you sleep. It might help focus your dreams. If your daughter has messages, it would be good to hear them clearly, wouldn’t it?”

***

Nahum fretted all the way home. He’d been trying not to overreact at Moonfell, or to endlessly fuss over Olivia, but it was hard when he was so worried. “Liv, you really should have told me about the dreams.”

“They’re just dreams, and I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything. They’re actually really lovely dreams. That’s partly why I didn’t mention them. They’re comforting. Like sinking into a storybook. The Thousand Nights and One Night! It’s like Scheherazade is spinning me tales.”

“That’s even more worrying.”

“How?” She turned to him, incredulous.

“They worried you enough to tell Morgana, but not me.”

“You were there! Plus, I only said something because they are so regular lately, and so vivid.” Her tone softened. “We all have dreams, but normally they’re varied and random. You know! Even Nephilim dream. That’s how these seemed, at first. But you know what Morgana and the witches are like. They have this uncanny way of getting in your head and seeing—and making you see—things you hadn’t really seen before. The oddness of things that you take for granted.”

He sighed, knowing she was right. His witch friends in White Haven were the same. They noticed patterns and details, and refused to look away from them. Odette was even more uncanny. She’d seen his wings when they were safely tucked away, and Olivia’s possession by Belial—thankfully. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to assess Olivia now. What if she saw something terrifying that they could do nothing about?

“Are there scenes you experience more often?” he asked.

“I see lots of huge sand dunes. Whether they’re the same or not, who knows? It’s endless miles of sand. Some souks. Markets. That type of thing.”

“Middle Eastern again?”

“Yes.”

“The landscape changed a lot at one period,” he said, mulling over the geological changes that had taken place over millennia, “and as you know, we were around a long time. Increasingly long droughts meant the desert extended in many directions around Mesopotamia. But that encompasses lots of land, and a lot of civilisations.”

“You’re trying to narrow down what I’m seeing,” Olivia noted. “Why?”

“In case it has meaning. Morgana seems to think they do.”

Olivia smiled and reached for his hand. “That’s cool, but why would it? I’m pregnant, and one thing I do know is that sleep is weird and crap in late pregnancy.”

“Well, I’m putting notebooks and pens everywhere when we get in, so that no matter where you sleep, when you wake, you can make notes.”

“Yes, sir!”

He ignored her tease. He’d been very sure when he’d said dreams were not a common theme with Nephilim and human pregnancies, but he’d call Gabe anyway. He was in Cornwall dealing with all the construction work on the farmhouse that should be almost finished now. Shadow was there too, as were Zee and Eli. As for Barak, he was with Estelle in France, a little further north of where Niel was with Mouse in Provence. Unless they’d taken off again on a dubious job. He and Mouse seemed to thrive on danger. Not new of course for any Nephilim, but Niel seemed to have found a partner who enjoyed the thrill of it even more than he did. Well, other than Shadow, perhaps. As for Ash, he was in Greece, rediscovering his old homeland with Lucien, the enhanced super-soldier they had rescued from Black Cronos and who had since proven to be an adept ally.

Plus, Nahum couldn’t forget the other Nephilim they had discovered when fighting Belial. That group seemed to have insights about their past that they didn’t, probably because of their close connection to Belial, who was now thankfully vanquished. Perhaps he should call them, too. If he could trust them with news of the baby…

And perhaps, he considered with a sigh, he should talk to JD. Now that Nahum was based in London, he had spent more time with JD than his brothers, helping him to decipher portions of writing in the Emerald Cave. They had talked many times about the past, JD’s and his own, and JD had been especially interested in the various angels that Nahum had firsthand knowledge of. JD might have insights he hadn’t considered.

Olivia was already dozing beside him in the passenger seat, and he wondered if she was dreaming yet, and whether the obsidian stone would help. Her eyes darted beneath her lids as if she was. What if there was a reason for the dreams? But then frustration hit him like a blow. Whatever she was seeing was probably long gone. Their world had been destroyed by the passage of time. It was all dust, and everyone had died—except for them. As far as Nahum was concerned, the past was done.

Their future was all that mattered.