“Among the Nephilim, if a boy isn’t your brother and he’s friendly to you, that means he wants to court you,” she explained.
Zach squinted at her. “You do know you were living with crazy people, right?”
She giggled. “It’s starting to seem that way. Though if you did want to court me...” She paused and added shyly, “I wouldn’t mind.”
The boy blushed in silent pleasure. “Listen, I can’t believe what I’m about to say. I mean, if I was walking around school with arm candy like you, I’d be the king of the uber-jock table.”
Hannah gave him a quizzical look, clearly not following.
He continued. “What I’m trying to say is that your life has been insane lately. You need to catch your breath. You need to find out who you are and what you want. You don’t need some guy, any guy for that matter, mackin’ on you right now.”
“I only understood about half of what you said.” She absently rubbed the fur around the stuffed animal’s ears. “But I think you meant it kindly. I’ll take your advice.”
“Friends?” he held out his hand.
She shook it. “Friends,” she agreed.
Although he didn’t say it out loud, he wouldn’t have minded if they were courting either.
Chapter 42 – Grudging Assistants
Even though two hours had elapsed since Daniel saw the apparition of the three people from Karfi at the Plaza Nuevo, he still felt shaken by the experience. Since he was in no mood to make small talk, he sat silently with Hunt in the hotel lobby waiting for their Nephilim contact.
In contrast to Daniel’s state of mind, Hunt’s attitude had improved immeasurably under the stimulus of alcohol. He chaffed Daniel good-naturedly about his recent hallucination. “Seein’ any dead folks now? How about flyin’ monkeys? Bats wearin’ frilly dresses? You be sure to let me know if you feel an attack of the willies comin’ on, Brother Dan’l. I’ll get out my magic ray gun and zap ‘em for you.” Hunt guffawed at his own humor.
The scion made no comment. He focused his attention on a man in a black suit advancing toward them. The stranger appeared to be in his fifties. He wore a pointed black beard and walked with an air of authority. “Are you the scion?” he asked with a soft Spanish accent.
Daniel rose to shake hands. “Yes, I’m Daniel Metcalf. You must be Brother Sergio.”
Hunt didn’t rise but stuck his hand in the air. “Leroy Hunt. Put ‘er there, pardner.”
The newcomer stared at Hunt’s hand as if it were crawling with lice. He turned to the scion and whispered, “You have taken one of the Fallen into your confidence?” His black eyes glittered, perhaps with anger or disapproval. Daniel couldn’t be sure which.
“That was my father’s idea,” the scion replied in a voice loud enough for Hunt to hear. “Mr. Hunt acts as my bodyguard.”
Sergio lowered his head in submission. “It is not my place to question the judgment of the diviner.”
“Maybe somebody should,” Hunt mumbled. “That ole boy’s got a hole in his sack of marbles!”
Sergio forced a smile in Hunt’s direction. “I am pleased to meet the protector of the scion.”
Hunt gave him a look suggesting that he doubted the sincerity of Sergio’s remark. He sized the man up through half-closed lids. “Ain’t you kind of long in the tooth to be helpin’ Brother Dan’l on this particular mission? I mean we been dealin’ with kids and crazies up til now.”
Sergio paused to consider his reply. “I am in charge of the Spanish compound—its archwarden. I do not allow any of my flock to travel to the cities of the Fallen. There are too many temptations in your world.” He emphasized the word “your.”
Before Hunt could take umbrage, Daniel interposed. “Perhaps our discussion should be conducted in private. We can go to my room.”
“You got a minibar?” Leroy asked skeptically.
“I have a stocked minibar, Mr. Hunt.”
“Well, alright then.” The mercenary rose unsteadily. “Let’s move this party upstairs.”
***
After Hunt had inspected all the small bottles of alcohol in Daniel’s refrigerator, which he dismissed as “midget juice,” he then dialed room service to send up a bottle of whiskey. To pass the time before it arrived, he threw himself on the couch to catch what he called “twenty winks.”
Sergio and Daniel did their best to ignore his antics. They sat at the small table near the balcony and discussed the relic search. After Daniel recited the complete riddle for his Nephilim contact, he added, “I’ve already solved the lines referring to Eurus and Eberos. That’s what led me here, but I was hoping you might understand the reference to the dragon’s wing or the spinner’s peak.”
Sergio listened intently and then sat for several moments puzzling over the matter. “I do not know the meaning of the dragon’s wing, but the spinner’s peak clearly refers to mountains.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Daniel agreed. “But northern Spain is full of mountains, and I have no idea which one to search.”
Sergio’s eyes narrowed. “This riddle was made by pagans, was it not?”
The scion nodded.
“Los Vascos are still pagans!” He spat out the last word.
“Vascos?” Daniel echoed.
“Bean-eaters. They live in the mountains all around here. In your language, they are called ‘Basques.’”
“Ah, yes. I did come across them in my research. They are a distinct ethnic group within Spain and France.”
“They are stiff-necked and stubborn. Many have still not converted to the true faith.”
“Surely you can’t hold it against them that they aren’t all Nephilim,” Daniel demurred.
“I mean Christianity,” Sergio’s eyes glittered again. This time Daniel could read his
