In the beginning, Clement was sure that it was a blood drinker betraying its own kind. Then, just a few nights before it had told him that it was of a race spawned by angels and human women.
Apparently, it had told the truth.
“Ah, human. I had thought to see you one day here, but not so soon.”
Its voice was as gargantuan as its height. While familiar to him, the sound had taken on other proportions with the light of day upon its stony face.
Clement swallowed, suddenly at a loss for words.
“Nephilim...that’s what you called yourself,” he managed at last.
The giant nodded, then grinned. In his large mouth, Clement saw a quick flash of inhuman canines that left him cold.
“I am that, human. I am the last, as well,” he said, then gesturing to the sword in Clement’s hand, he continued, “However, you need not fear me. After so many exchanges between us, I could have broken you at any time. I did not...I will not.”
“I think I’ll keep it ready. But, thanks anyway,” Clement said.
The giant flashed his terrifying grin again and Clement could not help but see that it was with true amusement. Despite what he knew about blood drinkers and their ilk, he was surprised to see something so...human.
“It is my stature that makes you hesitate. For that, though, I have a remedy that will likely put you at ease,” the Nephilim said.
Without warning, Clement heard a high pitched hum, not unlike a dentist’s drill, then he saw that the creature towering over him was vibrating all over. The smoke drifting slowly from its shoulders stuttered with the resonance of the vibration and, stunned, Clement watched as the thing began shrinking in size.
Quickly, it went from something nearly twice the height and twice as wide as any man had any right to be down to a normal, if extraordinarily muscular, man’s size.
“It costs me to do so and I will not bear it for long, but if you find me more manageable this way, I shall do my best to remain...condensed...as long as I am able.”
This time it was Clement’s turn to nod.
“Uh...yeah, ok. Thanks. I guess.”
He could not fault the thing’s logic and slid his sword back into its scabbard.
“I see questions upon your brow, human, and I have answers if you are willing to hear me recount them in my own manner,” the Nephilim said.
“Fine,” replied Clement, “But you had better make it good because I’ve had just about enough of being played like some kind of puppet.”
He eased his hand away from the pommel of his sword, then added, “And, by the way, I don’t know if you’re aware of it or not, but it looks like you’re smoking...or something.”
The stone-like creature chuckled in cavernous tones.
“This is the second time that a human has reminded me of that. The first occasion was with a surprising young woman and I can tell you what I told her. I spent nearly a century imprisoned and exposed to full sun each day. My nature is not entirely like that of the blood drinkers you hunt. For them, it would mean nothing but instant immolation. For me, it was a means of punishment as the pain it brought me was immense.
“However, after so many years, the pain lessened, or I became inured to it. And, during that time, the sun bleached away all semblance of life from my body, leaving me like this.
“However some vestige of evil remains in me and the sun continues in its efforts to burn it away. As for the pain, I have learned to revel in it, as I have learned that my endless hunger for those such as you will gnaw at my soul for all eternity.”
Clement shuddered. He knew what daylight meant for vampires. For the Nephilim, it must have been like hell on earth.
“So who did it to you?” he asked the creature.
The creature sighed and said, “My own father. At one time he was a noble being, brother to the other angels who descended from the heavens to walk among men. But he turned his back on his own creator and in doing so discovered a taste for human blood.
“I am the result of his time spent with a woman. That is to say that I was born and not made like the vampires. In me, his power flows nearly undiluted while the blood drinkers are but mere shadows of his puissance.
“But for one.”
The Nephilim sat down upon the edge of tomb and placed his chin upon his fist. For all the world, he looked like a work of Rodin until he opened his mouth to speak again.
“My father’s name is Kabiel and he begat a number of Nephilim to human wives before falling into darkness. Of them, I alone remain, but that is another tale and I would speak of the first blood drinker he created.
“Kabiel passed from one woman to another, gathering them to his bosom like so many flowers and none of them could not resist his advances.