untouched by Dr. Seraphina’s disapproval. In fact, she appeared to be thinking of something else
entirely. It was clear to me that Gabriella did not harbor the same sense of rivalry that I did. She felt
no need to prove herself.
Seeing how eager I was to begin, Dr. Seraphina stood. “I will leave you to your work,” she said.
“Perhaps you will see something in these papers that has eluded me. I have found that our texts will
speak deeply to someone or they will say nothing whatsoever. It depends upon your sensitivity
toward the subject. The mind and spirit become ripe in their own fashion and at their own pace.
Beautiful music plays, but not everyone with ears can hear it.”
From my first days as a student, it was my habit to arrive at the Valkos’ lectures early, so as to secure
a spot among the multitude of students. Despite the fact that Gabriella and I had sat through the
Valkos’ lectures the previous year, we continued to attend them each week. I was drawn to the
ambience of passionate inquiry and the illusion of scholarly unity that the lectures presented, while
Gabriella appeared to revel in her status as a second-year student from a well-known family. The
younger students stared at her throughout the lecture as if gauging her reaction to the Valkos’
assertations. The lectures were conducted in a small limestone chapel built on the fortifications of a
Roman temple, its walls thick and calcified, as if they had risen from the quarries that stretched
below. The chapel’s ceilings were composed of crumbling brick buttressed by wooden beams, which
appeared so rickety that when the rumbling of cars outside became strong, I believed the noise might
send the whole edifice tumbling down upon us.
Gabriella and I found seats in the back of the chapel as Dr. Seraphina arranged her papers and
began her lecture.
“Today I will share a story familiar to most of you in some form or other. As the founding story of
our discipline, its central position in history is indisputable, its poetic beauty unassailable. We begin
in the years before the Great Flood, when heaven dispatched a fleet of two hundred angels called the
Watchers to monitor the activities of creation. The chief Watcher, according to these accounts, was
named Semjaza. Semjaza was beautiful and commanding, the very image of angelic bearing. His
chalk-white skin, pale eyes, and golden hair marked the ideal of heavenly beauty. Leading two
hundred angels through the vault of the heavens, Semjaza came to rest in the material world. Among
his charges were Araklba, Rameel, Tamlel, Ramlel, Danel, Ezeqeel, Baraqijal, Asael, Armaros,
Batarel, Ananel, Zaqiel, Samsapeel, Satarel, Turel, Jomjael, Kokabiel, Araqiel, Shamsiel, and Sariel.
“The angels moved among the children of Adam and Eve unseen, living quietly in the shadows,
hiding in mountains, taking shelter where humanity would not find them. They traveled from region to
region, following the movements of men. In this fashion they discovered the populous civilizations
along the Ganges, the Nile, the Jordan, and the Amazon. They lived quietly in the outer regions of
human activity, dutifully observing the ways of man.
“One afternoon, in the era of Jared, when the Watchers were stationed on Mount Hermon, Semjaza
saw a woman bathing in a lake, her brown hair twisting about her. He called the Watchers to the edge
of the mountain, and together the majestic beings looked upon the woman. According to numerous
doctrinal sources, it was then that Semjaza suggested the Watchers choose wives from among the
children of men.
“No sooner had he spoken these words than Semjaza grew anxious. Aware of the penalty for
disobedience—he had witnessed the fall of the rebel angels—he reasserted his plan. He said, ‘The
Daughters of Men should be ours. But if you do not follow me, I will suffer the penalty of this great
sin alone.’
“The Watchers made a pact with Semjaza, swearing to suffer the penalties with their leader. They
knew that the union was forbidden and that their pact broke every law in heaven and earth.
Nonetheless, the Watchers descended Mount Hermon and presented themselves to human women. The
women took these strange creatures as their husbands and soon became pregnant. After some time
children were born to the Watchers and their wives. These creatures were called Nephilim.
“The Watchers observed their children as they grew. They saw that they were different from their
mothers and also different from the angels. Their daughters grew to be taller and more elegant than
human women; they were intuitive and psychic; they possessed the physical beauty of the angels. The
boys grew to be taller and stronger than normal men; they reasoned with shrewdness; they possessed