Read Online Payable On Death: A Jax Rhodes Novel, Book One (The Jax Rhodes Series 1) by Rachel Rawlings - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Rawlings
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the fallen ones, bedding mortal women and siring the Nephilim. The Egregoroi taught their wives and their children sorcery, incantations, and divination. For a time, they possessed what they had coveted for so long.
God is omnipresent, all knowing and all powerful. So he cast one-hundred-and-ninety of his fallen firstborns into Tartarus a place of eternal darkness where the wicked received divine punishment. Ten of the Watchers God left to roam the Earth, tempting mankind until the final judgment day. And tempt they did, until darkness consumed them, transforming them until their insides matched their outsides and they became something else entirely.
Demons.
Nothing else is mentioned of the Nephilim. And even less of the Elioud. Two lines were all that had been recovered from Qumran amongst the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Elioud are their own race, created by the coupling of Nephilim and mortal women. Part angel, they are exceptional in both ability and wickedness.
Wickedness? Selling one's soul could be considered wicked, I suppose. Up until that moment, I'd avoided the trappings of living in the city. The Devil had been my one temptation. Go big or go home, I guess.
The Book of Enoch and the Book of Jubilees, along with the vast majority of scrolls and gospels found in Qumran, had not been sanctioned by the church. At least there was one glaring commonality—neither was I. It all sounded like some twisted biblical fairytale, farfetched and impossible to believe. Still, some carnal part of me, buried deep beneath the person I'd been conditioned to become, recognized the words. The story resonated. I felt the truth of Joan's words in the marrow of my bones.
Elioud. The name for what I was. I'd been tormented by demons all my life, some inside my heart and mind and the rest sent straight from Hell. My mother and I needed to have a serious talk.
And it was almost visiting day.
I'd followed link after link until I reached the bottom of the rabbit hole and it was time to get ready for dinner. The closet in my one bedroom apartment was about the size of most hall closets in a standard townhouse and contained more tanks and tees than dresses or skirts. I owned exactly two dresses. Both options were black. The first, a button up with baby doll sleeves, complete with white collar and patent leather belt, was a sixties inspired dress I'd worn to my uncle's funeral a few years ago. Not exactly the look I was going for.
The second was a short-fitted V-neck that had been part of my sexy witch costume for a Halloween event at the bar which showed entirely too much cleavage and barely covered my ass. Again, not the look I wanted for my first dinner date in over a year. With only enough time to shower and get dressed, shopping for something new was out of the question and just as well since I found the process of finding new clothes to be a horrific form of torture. I laid out a pair of skinny jeans, black ankle boots, a white scoop neck tank, and a cropped black leather jacket. With the right accessories, the perfect urban chic ensemble was strewn across my bed.
I hit the shower with less than half an hour before Dane was due to arrive. Since I'd cut it so close, I had to make a decision. Shave or blow dry my hair. Uncertain of where the night would go, I opted for a clean landscape and my natural, beachy waved blonde hair. I'd just zipped up my boots when the doorbell rang.
"Hey, let me just grab my bag and we can go. Dane?" Unnerved by his silence and the awe-filled expression on his face, I grabbed the purple, skull-covered Betsy Johnson makeup bag I'd converted into a purse and stepped out into the hallway, shutting and locking the door behind me.
"You look amazing." Dane held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.
"He speaks." Nerves settled in and I reluctantly slipped my hand in his, afraid he would revolt at the touch or figure out what I was before I had the opportunity to tell him.
"Sorry, I…." Dane cleared his
God is omnipresent, all knowing and all powerful. So he cast one-hundred-and-ninety of his fallen firstborns into Tartarus a place of eternal darkness where the wicked received divine punishment. Ten of the Watchers God left to roam the Earth, tempting mankind until the final judgment day. And tempt they did, until darkness consumed them, transforming them until their insides matched their outsides and they became something else entirely.
Demons.
Nothing else is mentioned of the Nephilim. And even less of the Elioud. Two lines were all that had been recovered from Qumran amongst the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Elioud are their own race, created by the coupling of Nephilim and mortal women. Part angel, they are exceptional in both ability and wickedness.
Wickedness? Selling one's soul could be considered wicked, I suppose. Up until that moment, I'd avoided the trappings of living in the city. The Devil had been my one temptation. Go big or go home, I guess.
The Book of Enoch and the Book of Jubilees, along with the vast majority of scrolls and gospels found in Qumran, had not been sanctioned by the church. At least there was one glaring commonality—neither was I. It all sounded like some twisted biblical fairytale, farfetched and impossible to believe. Still, some carnal part of me, buried deep beneath the person I'd been conditioned to become, recognized the words. The story resonated. I felt the truth of Joan's words in the marrow of my bones.
Elioud. The name for what I was. I'd been tormented by demons all my life, some inside my heart and mind and the rest sent straight from Hell. My mother and I needed to have a serious talk.
And it was almost visiting day.
I'd followed link after link until I reached the bottom of the rabbit hole and it was time to get ready for dinner. The closet in my one bedroom apartment was about the size of most hall closets in a standard townhouse and contained more tanks and tees than dresses or skirts. I owned exactly two dresses. Both options were black. The first, a button up with baby doll sleeves, complete with white collar and patent leather belt, was a sixties inspired dress I'd worn to my uncle's funeral a few years ago. Not exactly the look I was going for.
The second was a short-fitted V-neck that had been part of my sexy witch costume for a Halloween event at the bar which showed entirely too much cleavage and barely covered my ass. Again, not the look I wanted for my first dinner date in over a year. With only enough time to shower and get dressed, shopping for something new was out of the question and just as well since I found the process of finding new clothes to be a horrific form of torture. I laid out a pair of skinny jeans, black ankle boots, a white scoop neck tank, and a cropped black leather jacket. With the right accessories, the perfect urban chic ensemble was strewn across my bed.
I hit the shower with less than half an hour before Dane was due to arrive. Since I'd cut it so close, I had to make a decision. Shave or blow dry my hair. Uncertain of where the night would go, I opted for a clean landscape and my natural, beachy waved blonde hair. I'd just zipped up my boots when the doorbell rang.
"Hey, let me just grab my bag and we can go. Dane?" Unnerved by his silence and the awe-filled expression on his face, I grabbed the purple, skull-covered Betsy Johnson makeup bag I'd converted into a purse and stepped out into the hallway, shutting and locking the door behind me.
"You look amazing." Dane held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.
"He speaks." Nerves settled in and I reluctantly slipped my hand in his, afraid he would revolt at the touch or figure out what I was before I had the opportunity to tell him.
"Sorry, I…." Dane cleared his
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