‘Samyarzi?’
I get goosebumps down my arms, even though the room is warm. I remember it clearly: ‘Semyaza.’
She types and clicks a few times. ‘Check this out.’
I pull up a stool. ‘Wikipedia? Really?’
‘Just read it.’
She points to a section titled ‘Sins of Semyaza and his associates’.
In the Book of Enoch he is portrayed as the leader of a band of angels called the Watchers, who are consumed with lust for mortal women and become Fallen Angels.
And Semjâzâ, who was their leader, said unto them: ‘I fear ye will not indeed agree to do this deed, and I alone shall have to pay the penalty of a greatsin.’And they all answered him and said: ‘Let us all swear an oath, and allbind ourselves by mutual imprecations not to abandon this plan but to do this thing.’
I take the mouse and scroll back up to click on ‘Watchers’. Another page appears.
The Watchers, or Grigori, are a group of fallen angels told of in Biblical apocrypha who mated with human females, giving rise to a race of hybrids known as the Nephilim… According to the Book of Enoch, the Watchers numbered a total of 200 but only their leaders are named.
‘That can’t be what she meant,’ Maggie says. ‘Maybe we misspelled it.’
‘Or it’s someone else with the same name.’
‘Or we heard it wrong.’
I click on ‘Nephilim’. A new page appears. This one says that the hybrids were wiped out by a flood. I keep reading. I’m not sure what I’m looking for until a highlighted word jumps off the screen.
Rephaim.
It’s something Daisy said: So, you don’t know anything about yourself? Or the Rephaim…
It’s not how I would have spelled it, but here it is, on a page detailing the story of fallen angels and their offspring.
‘What?’ Maggie says.
‘Rephaim.’
She frowns as she reads it. ‘This says they were a raceof giants in early biblical times, maybe descended from the Nephilim. I’m confused.’
‘You’re confused?’ I rub the scar on my neck, wait for the pieces to fall into place. They don’t. ‘Have you got a bible?’
Maggie blinks. ‘No.’
‘You’re still Catholic, aren’t you?’
‘About three times a year.’
‘Do you remember a Book of Enoch?’
She frowns. ‘Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus…’ She counts them off on her fingers. ‘I can’t remember what comes next. There could be an Enoch in there somewhere.’
‘Your mum would have one, right?’
‘I am not going home to ask for a bible. It’s taken me two years to get her used to the idea I’m not going to Mass anymore.’
Maggie stopped going to church after her father died. The closest she gets now is the cemetery.
‘Who else do we know who would have one?’
She breaks into a knowing smile. ‘How about the library?’
‘You’re a genius.’ I climb off the stool.
‘Come on, we’re not going now. It’s Sunday. Let’s just google it.’
I grab my staff swipe-card off the bench.
‘Gaby, you’re exhausted. And you need a shower.’
I smell my shirt. ‘Yeah, fair call. Back in a minute.’
I’m wrestling my damp hair into a ponytail when I come back into the kitchen, still trying to figure out how a myth about fallen angels relates to me.
‘Hey, do you think—’
I stop. Jason is at the bench, reading over Maggie’s shoulder. So close they’re almost touching.
‘You’re back early.’
‘I called him,’ Maggie says, before he can respond. ‘You won’t make it down and up that hill again today, and you shouldn’t be alone in case you get another visitor.’
‘You told him about Daisy?’
She nods, measuring my mood. ‘All of it.’
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t waste your day.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ Jason says.
‘Then just drop me off.’
‘It’ll be quicker with three of us.’
‘Plus,’ Maggie adds, ‘we want to know what’s going on as much as you do.’
I seriously doubt that.
I weigh up what I need more right now:
I get goosebumps down my arms, even though the room is warm. I remember it clearly: ‘Semyaza.’
She types and clicks a few times. ‘Check this out.’
I pull up a stool. ‘Wikipedia? Really?’
‘Just read it.’
She points to a section titled ‘Sins of Semyaza and his associates’.
In the Book of Enoch he is portrayed as the leader of a band of angels called the Watchers, who are consumed with lust for mortal women and become Fallen Angels.
And Semjâzâ, who was their leader, said unto them: ‘I fear ye will not indeed agree to do this deed, and I alone shall have to pay the penalty of a greatsin.’And they all answered him and said: ‘Let us all swear an oath, and allbind ourselves by mutual imprecations not to abandon this plan but to do this thing.’
I take the mouse and scroll back up to click on ‘Watchers’. Another page appears.
The Watchers, or Grigori, are a group of fallen angels told of in Biblical apocrypha who mated with human females, giving rise to a race of hybrids known as the Nephilim… According to the Book of Enoch, the Watchers numbered a total of 200 but only their leaders are named.
‘That can’t be what she meant,’ Maggie says. ‘Maybe we misspelled it.’
‘Or it’s someone else with the same name.’
‘Or we heard it wrong.’
I click on ‘Nephilim’. A new page appears. This one says that the hybrids were wiped out by a flood. I keep reading. I’m not sure what I’m looking for until a highlighted word jumps off the screen.
Rephaim.
It’s something Daisy said: So, you don’t know anything about yourself? Or the Rephaim…
It’s not how I would have spelled it, but here it is, on a page detailing the story of fallen angels and their offspring.
‘What?’ Maggie says.
‘Rephaim.’
She frowns as she reads it. ‘This says they were a raceof giants in early biblical times, maybe descended from the Nephilim. I’m confused.’
‘You’re confused?’ I rub the scar on my neck, wait for the pieces to fall into place. They don’t. ‘Have you got a bible?’
Maggie blinks. ‘No.’
‘You’re still Catholic, aren’t you?’
‘About three times a year.’
‘Do you remember a Book of Enoch?’
She frowns. ‘Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus…’ She counts them off on her fingers. ‘I can’t remember what comes next. There could be an Enoch in there somewhere.’
‘Your mum would have one, right?’
‘I am not going home to ask for a bible. It’s taken me two years to get her used to the idea I’m not going to Mass anymore.’
Maggie stopped going to church after her father died. The closest she gets now is the cemetery.
‘Who else do we know who would have one?’
She breaks into a knowing smile. ‘How about the library?’
‘You’re a genius.’ I climb off the stool.
‘Come on, we’re not going now. It’s Sunday. Let’s just google it.’
I grab my staff swipe-card off the bench.
‘Gaby, you’re exhausted. And you need a shower.’
I smell my shirt. ‘Yeah, fair call. Back in a minute.’
I’m wrestling my damp hair into a ponytail when I come back into the kitchen, still trying to figure out how a myth about fallen angels relates to me.
‘Hey, do you think—’
I stop. Jason is at the bench, reading over Maggie’s shoulder. So close they’re almost touching.
‘You’re back early.’
‘I called him,’ Maggie says, before he can respond. ‘You won’t make it down and up that hill again today, and you shouldn’t be alone in case you get another visitor.’
‘You told him about Daisy?’
She nods, measuring my mood. ‘All of it.’
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t waste your day.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ Jason says.
‘Then just drop me off.’
‘It’ll be quicker with three of us.’
‘Plus,’ Maggie adds, ‘we want to know what’s going on as much as you do.’
I seriously doubt that.
I weigh up what I need more right now:
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