Angelopolis(29)

Godwin has gained access to my work.”

Percival took a deep breath, as if considering his options. “The project is but in its beginning

phases.”

Although Angela maintained a clinician’s equilibrium, Verlaine could see that Percival had taken

her by surprise, that she had not expected his capitulation at all. He was going to cooperate. Getting

what she wanted had thrown her off balance.

“Technically, we are advancing with great rapidity.” Percival’s complexion changed as he spoke,

his white skin turning even paler, as if he’d drifted away from Angela and fallen into an argument

he’d long been fighting inside his mind.

“Merlin Godwin has made trips across the Iron Curtain in recent months,” Angela said. “Is this

related in some way to your project?”

“It wasn’t my first choice to build in the old world, but, of course, we mustn’t forget the Watchers.”

“Are you mining Valkine?”

“‘Mining’ is not how I would describe it,” Percival said. “It is more like extracting dust from a

hurricane. The quantities are minuscule and the conditions are wretched. And yet we need the

material. It is the only way.”

“The way to what?”

“Perfection,” Percival said, flatly. His blue eyes seemed to sharpen as he spoke.

“Perfection is a concept,” Angela said. “It is not something one can construct.”

“Purity is perhaps the better word. We are recovering the purity we lost four thousand years ago.

We will take back what was destroyed in the Deluge, the purity of our race that was compromised by

generations of breeding with humanity, and re-create the original breed of Nephilim.”

“You want to re-create paradise,” Angela said, astonished.

Percival smiled and shook his head. “The Garden of Eden was created for human beings,” he said.

“The Angelopolis is for angels, pure creatures, the likes of which haven’t been seen on earth since

Creation.”

“But that is impossible,” Angela said. “The Nephilim were never pure. You were born of angels

and women. You were mixed at your origin.”

Percival said, “Look at me closely—at my transparent skin, my wings—and tell me what is and

what is not possible. My family is the last of the exceptionally pure Nephilim. If my existence is

possible, anything is possible. But what we can make in the future, now that is even more incredible.”

Angela stood and paced the room, her shadow falling over the angel. “You are engineering an

alternate world for yourselves, one that will be wholly constructed for Nephilim.”

“It would be more correct to say that we have made a petri dish, and from this small biological

culture we will grow a new world, one that will replace what you call human civilization.”

As Angela Valko considered this, Verlaine imagined the obvious questions forming in her mind:

Why would the Nephilim do this now, after thousands of years of coexistence with human beings?

What is their motivation? How could they achieve something so drastic? And what would they do

with human beings?

“This isn’t a new endeavor,” Percival said, reading Angela’s thoughts. “We’ve been looking for a

way forward for many, many years. The twentieth century has provided many pieces to the puzzle:

War allowed us to test our formulas on human subjects; science has allowed us to look inside the

mechanisms of our creation; technology has allowed us to collect and compare data.” Percival folded

his hands in his lap. “And we’ve found an ally.”

“Dr. Merlin Godwin,” Angela said. “You’ve found an angelologist to spy and steal for you.”

“We’ve found a man who appreciates the dilemma of our race,” Percival said.

“Nephilistic diminishment,” Angela said. “Nephilim fertility has dwindled, immunity to human

diseases has weakened, and wingspan has shortened, as has life expectancy. Of course I’m fully

aware of this phenomenon. I have been studying the possible causes for the past few years.”

Percival said, “Your theory on the genetics of angelic creatures has been extraordinarily helpful. In

fact, Dr. Valko, it is because of your work that we will be able to rebuild our race.”

“My work has nothing to do with genetic engineering.”

Percival smiled again, and the frightening hunch that Verlaine had sensed earlier—that the creature

could manipulate Angela as he wished—returned. “I know your theories very well, Dr. Valko. You

have spent your career deciphering Nephilistic DNA. You’ve speculated about the role of Valkine in