DESCENDANTS OF AZAZEL

Chapter Four: The Question

Chapter Four: The Question

Dad was home.

I could hear his footsteps downstairs.

Normally, that wouldn’t have meant anything.

It was just my father coming home after work.

But tonight, everything felt different.

I was standing in the middle of my bedroom with my phone in my hand, staring at the last message.

Ask your father about the Ark.

I read it again.

Then again.

I didn’t understand.

What Ark?

There was only one Ark I could think of.

Noah’s Ark.

The story everyone learned as children.

The flood.

The animals.

Noah and his family surviving while the rest of the world was destroyed.

But why would someone send me a message about it?

And why would they say my family knew what I was?

I looked down at the photograph lying on the floor.

He survived.

I picked it up.

The boy in the photograph was still staring back at me.

There was something unsettling about him.

Something I couldn’t explain.

I couldn’t even tell how old the photograph was. The image was faded, and the people standing behind the boy wore clothes that looked like they belonged to another era.

I turned it over.

He survived.

And now he has returned.

I swallowed.

What did that mean?

I heard footsteps coming upstairs.

I quickly shoved the photograph beneath my pillow.

My bedroom door opened.

Dad stood there.

“You’re home early,” I said.

He looked at me.

“You’re still awake.”

“Yeah.”

He nodded.

“How was school?”

“Fine.”

“Everything okay?”

I almost laughed.

The question sounded so ordinary.

Almost too ordinary.

“Yeah.”

He stepped inside.

Then he noticed my expression.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You look like something’s bothering you.”

I hesitated.

This was my chance.

I could ask him.

I could simply say it.

Dad, what do you know about the Ark?

But something stopped me.

Maybe it was fear.

Maybe it was the strange feeling I’d had all day.

Or maybe I wasn’t ready to hear the answer.

“I’m just tired,” I said.

Dad nodded.

“Get some sleep.”

He turned toward the door.

“Dad?”

He stopped.

“Yeah?”

I stared at him.

My mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

“Never mind.”

He looked at me for a moment.

Then he left.

The door closed.

I waited.

A few seconds later, I heard his footsteps moving down the hallway.

Then they stopped.

I stood still.

I could hear him breathing.

Through the door.

I frowned.

Why could I hear that?

I moved closer.

His footsteps started again.

He went downstairs.

I stood there, confused.

I had never been able to hear things like this before.

At least, I didn’t think I had.

I sat on my bed.

Maybe I was imagining everything.

I pulled the photograph from beneath my pillow.

The boy’s face stared back at me.

I turned it over one last time.

Then I put it inside the drawer beside my bed.

I locked the drawer.

I had no idea why.

But something told me I shouldn’t let anyone see it.

⸻

The next morning, I woke up before my alarm.

5:47 A.M.

I stared at the ceiling.

For some reason, I felt completely awake.

I could hear the shower running downstairs.

Mom.

Then Ethan’s bedroom door opened.

I could hear him walking across the hallway.

I sat up.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

My bedroom was upstairs.

The bathroom was downstairs.

I could hear everything.

The water.

Footsteps.

A cupboard opening.

Someone coughing.

I got out of bed.

I walked to the door and opened it.

The sounds became clearer.

I stood there for several seconds.

Then I shook my head.

“I’m losing my mind.”

I got dressed.

When I went downstairs, Ethan was sitting at the table.

He looked at me.

“Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

He pushed his cereal bowl toward me.

“Want some?”

“No.”

“You’re weird.”

“Thanks.”

Mom walked into the kitchen.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

She looked at me.

“You look better.”

“I feel better.”

Dad entered a moment later.

He glanced at me.

Our eyes met.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then he looked away.

I noticed.

So did Mom.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

Dad picked up his coffee.

I watched him.

There was something he wasn’t telling me.

I knew it.

The question was what.

⸻

At school, things were different.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

People recognized me now.

The fire-alarm incident had turned me into some kind of minor celebrity.

A freshman stopped me near the entrance.

“Hey, you’re the guy who rescued that girl.”

I smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah.”

“That was crazy.”

“Thanks.”

He walked away.

Danny appeared beside me.

“Look at you.”

“Don’t start.”

“You’re famous.”

“I’m not famous.”

“You’re getting recognized.”

“That’s not fame.”

“Give it a week.”

Malcolm joined us.

“You should probably enjoy it while it lasts.”

I looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

“People get bored quickly.”

“That’s comforting.”

He smiled.

We walked toward our lockers.

I noticed Amy standing near hers.

She looked up.

Our eyes met.

She smiled.

I smiled back.

Danny whispered, “Smooth.”

“Stop.”

“You didn’t even say anything.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Exactly.”

I pushed him.

He laughed.

For a moment, the strange things from yesterday disappeared.

I was just a teenager again.

A teenager with a crush.

A best friend.

Homework I hadn’t completed.

And an exam coming up that I had completely forgotten about.

Then someone walked past me.

Adrian.

He didn’t say anything.

But as he passed, he looked directly at me.

Not at my face.

At my hands.

Then he continued walking.

I looked down.

Nothing.

I looked back.

He was gone.

⸻

The first half of the day went normally.

Classes.

Teachers.

Assignments.

Lunch.

The usual.

I tried not to think about the photograph.

I failed.

During lunch, I sat with Danny and Malcolm.

Amy and Chloe joined us.

We talked about the party happening Friday night.

“I heard almost everyone is going,” Chloe said.

Danny smiled.

“Then I’m definitely going.”

“You weren’t invited,” Malcolm said.

Danny looked offended.

“Neither were you.”

“I was.”

“By who?”

Malcolm shrugged.

“Someone.”

Danny stared at him.

“You’re secretly popular.”

“I don’t think that’s how popularity works.”

Amy laughed.

I watched her.

She noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

She smiled.

“You were.”

I looked away.

Danny laughed.

“You two are exhausting.”

Amy threw a napkin at him.

Everyone laughed.

It felt good.

Normal.

Safe.

Then my phone vibrated.

I looked at the screen.

Unknown number.

One message.

Don’t trust the girl.

My smile disappeared.

I looked across the table.

Amy was laughing at something Chloe had said.

I looked toward Maya.

She was sitting alone on the other side of the courtyard.

Her eyes were on me.

I locked my phone.

⸻

After lunch, I went to the library.

I needed answers.

Not about Amy.

Not yet.

About the photograph.

I sat at one of the computers and typed:

Noah’s Ark history

Thousands of results appeared.

I searched again.

Noah’s Ark ancient stories

Then:

Nephilim Noah Ark

I stopped.

The word looked strange on the screen.

Nephilim.

I had heard it before.

Church.

History class.

Movies.

Books.

But I had never really cared about it.

I clicked on an article.

The page described the Nephilim as mysterious figures mentioned in the Book of Genesis.

I read for a few minutes.

Then I found something that made me stop.

Some ancient traditions connected the Nephilim with beings described as giants.

Another section mentioned the possibility of supernatural beings producing offspring with humans.

I leaned closer.

The details were confusing.

Some sources disagreed with each other.

There were different interpretations.

Different theories.

Different stories.

I closed the page.

This was ridiculous.

What did any of this have to do with me?

I looked around.

The library was quiet.

A few students were studying.

A teacher was arranging books.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

I turned.

Maya.

She stood at the end of the aisle.

“You shouldn’t be looking that up.”

My stomach tightened.

“How do you know what I’m looking up?”

She walked closer.

“You’re asking the wrong questions.”

“Then give me the right ones.”

She stopped.

“You’re not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

She looked around.

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

She didn’t answer.

“Maya.”

She looked at me.

“Your father hasn’t told you anything?”

“No.”

Her expression changed.

“Then you should ask him.”

“About the Ark?”

She froze.

I noticed.

“You know about the message.”

“What message?”

I stared at her.

She sighed.

“Who contacted you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did they threaten you?”

“No.”

“Did they mention the name Azazel?”

I stared at her.

“How do you know that name?”

She stepped backward.

“I have to go.”

“Maya.”

She walked away.

I followed.

“Maya!”

She turned.

“Stop following me.”

“Then answer me.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it.”

She stared at me.

For a second, I thought she would.

Instead, she whispered:

“Some things are better left buried.”

Then she left.

I stood there alone.

The same phrase echoed in my head.

Buried.

⸻

After school, I didn’t go home immediately.

I walked toward the football field.

The team was practicing.

Tyler was there.

Of course.

He saw me.

“Carter!”

I stopped.

He tossed the ball toward me.

I caught it.

“Throw it.”

I threw it back.

He caught it.

“Not bad.”

I shrugged.

He smiled.

“You should join the team.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Not interested.”

Tyler walked closer.

“You think you’re better than us now?”

“What?”

“Yesterday.”

He laughed.

“You run into a burning building and suddenly everybody thinks you’re some kind of hero.”

“I don’t think that.”

“Good.”

He stepped closer.

“Because you’re still you.”

I didn’t respond.

Ryan stood behind him.

“Come on, Tyler.”

Tyler looked at me one more time.

“See you tomorrow, Carter.”

They walked away.

Danny came up beside me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded.

Then he looked toward Tyler.

“He’s getting worse.”

“I know.”

“You need to be careful.”

“I am.”

Danny didn’t look convinced.

⸻

That evening, I was walking home alone.

Dad had told me he’d be late.

The sky was beginning to darken.

I put my headphones on.

I didn’t play anything.

I just wanted the silence.

Halfway home, I heard footsteps.

I stopped.

The footsteps stopped.

I turned around.

Nobody.

I started walking again.

The footsteps returned.

Faster.

I turned.

A figure stood at the end of the street.

Tall.

Dark clothing.

Watching me.

I blinked.

He was gone.

I took my headphones off.

My heart was beating faster.

I continued walking.

Then I heard a voice behind me.

“Jack.”

I turned.

Nothing.

I walked faster.

A car passed.

Its headlights briefly illuminated the sidewalk.

There was nobody there.

I finally reached home.

I opened the door.

Mom was in the living room.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry.”

She looked at me.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

She stood.

“Jack.”

“I’m fine.”

She studied my face.

Then she asked quietly:

“Did someone follow you?”

My entire body went still.

“How did you know?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she walked toward the window and pulled the curtains closed.

“Mom?”

She turned.

“Stay inside tonight.”

“Why?”

“Just listen to me.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Mom.”

She looked at me.

For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.

Real fear.

Not worry.

Fear.

Then she whispered:

“Your father should have told you years ago.”

My heart began pounding.

“Told me what?”

Before she could answer, the front door opened.

Dad walked in.

He stopped when he saw us.

He looked at Mom.

Then at me.

Nobody spoke.

Finally, Dad said:

“Jack…”

I stared at him.

“What am I?”

The question came out before I could stop it.

Dad’s face went pale.

Mom closed her eyes.

And somewhere outside the house, a car engine started.

Neither of my parents noticed.

But I did.

I could hear it.

Even with the windows closed.

The engine moved away.

I looked at Dad.

“What am I?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he locked the front door.

Then he checked the windows.

One by one.

Finally, he returned to the living room.

He sat down.

Mom sat beside him.

I remained standing.

Dad looked at me for a long time.

Then he said the words that would change everything.

“You’re my son.”

“I know that.”

“No matter what happens, that will never change.”

“Dad, what are you talking about?”

He looked at Mom.

She nodded slowly.

Dad took a deep breath.

“There are things about our family that you don’t know.”

I waited.

“Things that have been kept secret for generations.”

My heart was pounding.

“What things?”

Dad looked directly into my eyes.

“Your family is not what you think it is.”

I stared at him.

“Are we…?”

He stopped.

Before he could finish, something slammed against the window.

Mom screamed.

I jumped.

The lights went out.

Complete darkness swallowed the room.

Dad immediately stood.

“Stay behind me.”

“What was that?”

“Don’t move.”

Another sound came from outside.

A low scrape against the glass.

Then silence.

Dad moved toward the window.

I could hear his breathing.

I could hear Mom’s heartbeat.

I could hear mine.

And then—

another heartbeat.

Outside.

Very close.

I looked toward the window.

Dad froze.

His face changed.

He whispered one word.

“Impossible.”

The window shattered.

And something stepped into the darkness.

To be continued.