For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against . . . the powers
of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly
realm.
--Ephesians 6:12
"So, are you finally going to tell us what's going on?" Alex asked as Sloan sat down at one of the computer terminals and logged onto the Legacy Data Network. Nick perched on the top of a counter and studied the Legacy leader, then looked over at Alex and Philip.
"Derek will be down in a few minutes," Sloan answered distractedly as he keyed in a file search. Once the computer was working on his request, he sat back in the chair and looked up. "Once everyone is here, we'll explain."
"What's all th' secrecy about, anyway?" Philip asked, uncomfortable because he knew it had to be something involving Derek. Some of the things Derek had said -- or more accurately, the *way* he had said them -- worried him. And Nick knew about it, but wasn't saying anything, giving the excuse that it wasn't his place to do so.
"I don't like this," Alex commented. Nick sighed and looked up at the monitor, seeing the beginning results of the file search. _Derek had better get here soon,_ he thought. _I don't like keeping things from my friends. Besides, I want it from *him* that everything's sorted out between him and Sloan . . ._
Philip looked up at the screen and frowned, seeing the partial list of files and documents that was the result of Sloan's search. "The Book of Enoch? 'Fallen Angels . . . and Spirits of the Dark'?" When files under the headings of 'Legacy Journal -- Rayne, Winston' and 'Legacy Journal -- Boyle, Jonathan' popped up on the list he added, "What *is* this all about, Sloan? We know all 'bout th' fallen angels already . . ."
"Perhaps not as much as we should," Derek said as he entered the control room. Everyone turned to look at him, and Nick jumped off the counter and moved closer to Sloan. Derek saw this and caught his eye, then shook his head and said, "Everything is okay, Nick." Nick nodded then, and almost imperceptibly relaxed, and Sloan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"I brought some of the journals we have here," Derek said, putting a stack of books down on the counter Nick had vacated. "I don't think they're all in your file, William."
"Derek, please tell us what's going on," Alex requested.
Derek nodded and said, "I'm sorry about all of the mystery. William brought some news that I was -- surprised and a little upset by. I needed time to -- assimilate it before I shared it." He opened one of the journals and looked at it for a moment, paging through until he came to a certain passage.
"William brought me news that Nick's father had been researching something regarding my family. I'm afraid it isn't exactly the best news -- at least, not for us. I'm sure there are those who would be more than happy to learn about this -- if they don't already know." He looked down again, thinking not for the first time that Jonathan Boyle's handwriting looked far more like an odd variation of cuneiform than any kind of modern alphabet.
"In his journal, Jonathan Boyle wrote, 'After digging into the old journals kept in the Archive in London, I'm even more convinced that the only interpretation possible is that the Raynes are decendants of the Nephilim. Winston always said that there was something in his family that was drawn to the occult -- from the attention the fallen angels paid them, seeming almost to court them; and even from the circumstances surrounding Winston's own death, that must be it. I only hope that Derek is safe from their influence while he is away from the Legacy,'" Derek read, not pausing despite the gasp he heard from Alex and the quietly muttered prayer from Philip.
"So, you see I have the blood of fallen angels in my veins," Derek said, looking up from the book and seeing the shocked expressions on Alex's and Philip's faces.
"It can't be," Alex said, stunned.
"Actually, it can," Sloan answered, keying in commands to open one of the files. "I'm sure you are all familiar with the story of the Watchers, so I won't go over that. However, this is a list of the members of the Rayne family who have been Legacy members." He indicated with a pointer the name ten generations back from Derek and continued, "This person, Lucas Rayne, was Precept of the Hamburg house when it turned. His wife was murdered by an enemy of the Legacy and in a fit of grief he made a pact with the dark side in order to exact his revenge. The being he made that pact with was Azazel, the leader of the Watchers."
"The same one who killed Derek's father," Alex murmured, a chill running down her back.
"Do y'have a record of th' pact?" Philip asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Of course," Sloan answered. He typed in more commands and the image of an old parchment appeared. "I won't read the whole translation, because I'd rather not have Azazel manifest right here in the control room, but take a look at this line here," he instructed, using the pointer to indicate a section of the document. "Derek?"
Derek frowned as he looked at the old script, written in Dutch with a definite left-handed lean. "You don't want me to read even that much aloud, William," he said, a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He then looked around the room and met Philip's distressed gaze. "It refers to Azazel as 'our honoured father' and 'the source of our strength.' I'm sure there are other interpretations that could be used, but . . ." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm afraid in conjunction with everything else, it's pretty damning evidence -- so to speak."
Philip looked from the image of the document to Derek and unconsciously crossed himself.
_Ah jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence, Philip,_ Nick thought as he caught the gesture out of the corner of his eye. "Derek, isn't it possible that my dad just jumped to the wrong conclusion?" he asked hopefully.
"I don't think he did," Derek answered, looking up at the screen again. "There is no *conclusive* proof that I can find, but . . . I can't help feeling that he was right. So many little things . . ."
"Like what?" Alex asked, also hoping that Nick was right.
"Well . . . beyond the historical evidence, there are a number of things that have happened to me," Derek began. "For instance, that creature that pretended to be my son told me I was more like him than I could possibly know."
"That could easily be something he -- it -- just said to rattle you, Derek," Alex argued.
"Yes, it could. What about the fact that Azazel has had the chance to kill me twice now -- if he *really* wanted to, you know he would have. Our defenses aren't *that* great -- and instead the second time he just taunted me and left." Derek missed Sloan's look of annoyed curiosity when he mentioned that, continuing on before anyone could interrupt.
"Add to that the fact that the 'daughters of man' the Watchers were involved with were the daughters of *Cain* -- remember the scroll? Harper was still under its curse -- it still considered *him* its owner -- and yet it affected me, too . . .
"I doubt anyone's ever going to find any *conclusive* proof, unless we do an extensive blood analysis and turn up something strange," he concluded.
Sloan cleared his throat and quietly keyed in some more commands, bringing up a medical file. "You mean like this, Derek?" he asked, pointing out a DNA map.
"I haven't the faintest idea what I'm looking at, William," Derek answered, peering at the screen. "Rachel's the one to show this to."
"I don't have to -- I had our expert in London look it over. He told me that these markers here indicate some kind of anomaly he's never seen in *human* DNA before. I took the liberty of having our samples from your father and great-uncle analyzed with modern equipment, and they turned up with the same markers . . ." Sloan answered uncomfortably.
"So now what?" Philip asked, still completely stunned.
Derek closed the journal before him and opened one of his father's, paged through it absently while he thought. "We continue with our job," he finally answered, smiling apologetically at Philip.
"Would it be possible for Rachel to take a look at the samples you've got, Mr. Sloan?" Alex asked quietly.
"You don't trust our expert?" Sloan asked with a wry smile. Then, after a brief pause, "Of course she can -- it's always better to get a second opinion in . . . cases like this." He looked up at Derek and asked, "So, when is she due in, anyway?"
"She'll be here tomorrow," Alex answered. "She said something about quality time with Kat."
Sloan smiled at that and nodded. "Perfectly understandable," he said, knowing all too well how Legacy business had a way of straining family relationships. "So, I'll have the samples shipped by Legacy courier, and they should arrive tomorrow. Is that satisfactory?"
Derek looked up and stared at him for a moment, realizing he'd missed part of the conversation, then nodded -- no one else was objecting, so Sloan hadn't proposed anything overly odd.
"Derek, are you all right?" Sloan asked, noticing how pale he was again.
"Uh . . . yes, William, I'm fine. I just . . . I guess it's been a bit of a shock," he explained. "Philip, we wanted you here because you might have a little more education in the area of angelic lore than the rest of us. I'd like you to see if you can find *anything* we can use to keep my . . . heritage from becoming a serious liability. That is if you don't mind," he added, thinking that from Philip's reaction he was possibly asking for too much.
"I can't think of anythin' right off, but I'll be glad t' look," Philip said, realizing how disturbed Derek was by the whole situation. "If there's *anythin'*, I'll find it!"
"Thank you, Philip," Derek said, looking down at the journal again. "Now, if it's all right with everyone else, I think I would like to have dinner."
"That sounds good," Nick agreed. "Maybe we'll all think a little better when we're not starving."
Poltergeist: The Legacy is (c) 1997 MGM/UA and Trilogy Entertainment. This story is not intended to infringe on these copyrights. &‰Dj‹FðÁàPj
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