Mean Streets

Remy was surprised by the Grigori's words. He had never heard of this prototype for humanity. "So you're saying that there were two designs for what would eventually become the human race?"

Sariel chuckled. "He wanted to see which one worked the best."

"Why didn't I know any of this?" Remy asked in disbelief.

"There was no need for you to know," Sariel said. "It didn't concern you. As Seraphim, yours was a more militaristic purpose. It was the Grigori who were assigned to the fledgling world, and thus we were privy to all its imperfections."

"So these… Chimerian were His first attempts at humanity?"

"They were, and unfortunately, they lost the contest," Sariel said flatly. "The two in the Garden, though disobedient, captured His curiosity."

Remy drank deeply from his glass. It was all a bit overwhelming as he tried to fit the pieces of the picture together inside his head.

"So God brought the rains to destroy this earlier try at humankind," he stated, part of him hoping that he was wrong.

"Yes," Sariel agreed. "But somehow the Chimerian learned of their fate and were determined to survive… in any way they could."

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Come," the Grigori said.

The door swung open and a blind man entered. He was elderly, his back slightly hunched, and he was dressed in a butler's garb. The Grigori used the sightless as servants. Remy wasn't sure exactly why, but the blind seemed to be drawn to these fallen angels, as if the Grigori somehow satisfied their deep yearnings to see.

"Would you and your guest enjoy a fire, sir?" the old servant inquired.

"Perhaps a fire would be just the thing to take away the chill that has settled in my bones," Sariel replied.

"Very good, sir," the servant said as he carefully crossed the room. Gripping the marble mantel, he slowly lowered himself to his knees before the open hearth.

"We believe that the Chimerian, abandoned by their Creator, found something new to worship," Sariel continued, ignoring his servant.

"A false god?" Remy asked, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

"Of a sort," Sariel said. He leaned his head back against his chair, eyes closed. "We've surmised that they somehow managed to communicate with the nameless things that thrived in the darkness before our Lord God brought the light of creation. Things that were old before even us."

Sariel drank more.

"And in exchange the Chimerian received knowledge," he said, eyes still shut. "An understanding of dark, arcane arts. But it didn't help them."

Remy watched the servant work on the fire. Slowly, methodically, the blind man felt for the cords of dry wood that were stacked alongside the fireplace, selecting each piece carefully and laying it within the cold hearth.

"They should have all been destroyed when the rains came," Remy said. "That was the point of the flood, wasn't it?"

Sariel finished his scotch and straightened in his chair. He let the empty tumbler fall to the floor.

"It certainly was the point," he said. "And for countless millennia, we believed it successful. Then Noah brought to my attention the fact that the deluge might have failed."

Remy finished his own drink and seriously contemplated another. "How did he know?" he asked.

"The old man was a tortured soul," Sariel said. "The longer he lived, the more obsessed he became with the things he had left to die. The guilt ate at him."

"You kept in touch?" Remy asked, curious as to the Grigori's relationship with Noah.

"We saw each other from time to time," Sariel said, waving his hand vaguely. "We survivors of the deluge shared a kind of bond." The Grigori leader smile but there was little warmth in the expression.

"When we spoke, he told me of the expeditions that he'd undertaken, traversing the globe, sparing no expense, searching for signs of those that had been left behind… signs that they-his orphans-may have somehow survived."

The servant appeared to have finished preparing the wood, and leaned back as if to admire what he had accomplished.

"He said he could remember them all," Sariel said, tapping the side of his skull. "Each and every species that was deemed unworthy to board the ark. He could see them in his head. Awake or asleep, they were always with him."

"I can see how that might drive you a little… crazy," Remy acknowledged.

"The last time we communicated, Noah told me that of all the doomed species, he believed they might have survived."

"They, meaning the Chimerian."

"I tried to explain the danger if this was true, but he couldn't see it," Sariel explained. "All he cared about was the alleviation of his guilt."

The servant had found the tin of fireplace matches and was attempting to ignite the fire.

"So you think Noah found the Chimerian… and that they are responsible for his death."

"You saw his body," Sariel snarled. "You saw that thing scuttling away in the shadows."

"Yes." Remy nodded slowly. "I did see something, although I have no idea what it was."

Sariel's thin, bloodless lips pulled back in another attempt at a smile.