Marcus' Prey

Chapter Two

And, boy, did he make my worries disappear. He cared for me, taught me what I missed in school, and generally gave me a shoulder to cry on. He was everything my life had so far been lacking. I'd idolized him, Hell, I'd worshipped the man. Turns out, I wasn't the only one who did.

Finding out your absent father was none other than the archangel Michael, and that you were a Nephilim, was a difficult thing for any sixteen-year-old to swallow.

At first, I believed my absent father's nonsense story about cancer, but now I knew the truth. I should've realized that, even for my mother's diagnosis, she'd been deteriorating far too quickly to be natural. I was so damned blind.

Then, I met my siblings, and my life once again took a steep downhill slide.

If I thought I'd hit rock bottom before, it was nothing compared to the next few months of my life.

My siblings weren't at all like me. What I saw at first were strong, able warriors. Gladiators, always ready and hungry for conflict. I now knew that in actuality, they were brutish, monsters, strong and vicious, but monsters all the same. They were abominations, perversions of nature's gifts. When I'd been younger, they'd convinced me that I was the freak. It wasn't difficult. Among my thousands of brothers and sisters, I was utterly unique. I now realized that "weakness" was in fact my greatest strength.

I couldn't, of course, compare to the raw strength possessed by even the weakest of my siblings. I had the strength of a fit human woman. Nothing to be scoffed at when I was a child living with my mother, but surrounded by powerful celestials, I was a weakling. But I could move with a speed that made a striking snake appear almost sluggish. I danced circles around my brothers and my sisters alike. None could rival me.

My siblings were also ugly creatures. Oh, they were pleasing enough to the eye, that couldn't be denied. They practically shone with a primal, almost wicked beauty. The discerning individual, however, could easily see through the ruse. Like all good predators, they hid their twisted, gruesome selves from their prey. Their gray skin and crimson eyes weren't any type of exotic beauty; it spoke volumes to their deadened souls. They exuded a toxic aura, so much so that even the plants they tread on withered and died. They could walk nowhere undetected.

Plants, all living creatures, really, thrived under my touch. Yet another quality that my siblings perceived as weakness. That, my shiny dark hair, my lightly tanned complexion, and clear blue eyes all marked me as a target. I looked like a mortal, so they considered me a mortal, a creature beneath themselves. But, of course, I had an advantage in that I could walk among humans undetected. I blended in seamlessly. I had for sixteen years, before my father took me away.

I was freer than all of them, and they resented it deeply.

Yet still I desperately, desperately wanted my family's approval.

I didn't see how perfectly my father had set that up until much, much later.

He capitalized on my situation in a way that only a conniving soul like him possibly could.

He took me under his wing, honed me into his perfect daughter. His perfect weapon. He taught me how to utilize the magic that I hadn't realized existed within me. By the end, I could grow trees and other plants in seconds, manipulate rock and earth, cause magical ailments, and bend my form to match my surroundings.

I could also unerringly tell truth from lie. I partially blame this ability for the fact that I followed my father like a lost puppy for so long. To my knowledge, he'd never lied to me. Of course, I was an idiot for believing that my father, Michael the freaking archangel couldn't find a way to weasel around my power.