There is a long moment's silence, as our thoughts drift along diverging paths, but Meres sighs and recalls himself. "Have you any thoughts on where it might be? The man does not look to keep his things terribly organized, and I hardly think Claude will detain him for quite that long."
        "Oh, I don't know... but the boy seems quite determined, don't you think?" I answer lazily, lifting a book from a pile beside his chair, then settling back in to a couch. I flip lightly through it with a furrowed brow - it is in Greek, and I feel more tired simply by looking at the letters, and trying to recall a language I have not spoken in perhaps a century. This shall be a horribly tiresome task, and though I should like to find the answers, are we really to look through every book here?
        "Mmm..."
        I sigh heavily, passing a hand over my brow. I do not think this book will be it, the contents show a tiresome listing of points regarding that ridiculous Resurrection, what a pointless excursion that was! Did He really think He could leave an indelible mark on the forgetful human race, by walking the earth for scarcely more than a score of years? Of course they still pass along the stories of him, but the meanings and messages have become so corrupted over the long years, I find it hard to believe there is any real meaning left to it anymore. Men have locked the most frivolous facets into mindless tradition, which they follow numbly by rote, while the true intents have become catchphrases, which are tossed about in the air without thought. "Love thy neighbor!" they jest when they hear of some injustice done. "An eye for an eye," they retort when defending some petty revenge they have taken. "Turn the other cheek," they tell their children when they face some bully, rather than take the trouble to root out the real causes of the situation. And they haven't the faintest what contradictions they live, they hear only what they want in their sermons (and the ministers increasingly give them only that), and feel all the more progressive for picking and choosing those elements which most suit the lives they already live.
        I select another book, and flip through to find the contents. Ah, a translation of Faust! Oh how we laughed when we first read that dramatic account, and poor Mephisto! To find himself cast in such outrageous caricature, I think he hardly knew whether to laugh himself or be outraged. But this will certainly not help me, and oh, the illustrations! What ridiculous images are created of devils... though I suppose it is only fitting they should look so like humans.
        I set these two aside, and reach for another volume, this one looking promisingly old - but there is a sound of footsteps on the stair, slow and cautious. Claude is the first to look in, his hair tousled, a gleam in his eye. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, dears, but I presume you found some entertainment of your own?"
        Meres makes a show of being quite annoyed - it seems he has taken the boy under his wing to some degree, training him to be... oh, not that he could ever be as one of us! But to be a little more like us, that he will annoy us less, I think. "Really, it is quite rude to leave guests so long unattended. Whatever took you so long? I do hope the wine at least will be worth the long wait."
        "My apologies, gentlemen, but we had some lengthy discussion in the kitchen, and quite forgot ourselves for a time," Mark answers diplomatically, entering the room with a tray of glasses and two bottles of wine, along with a small plate of cheese and pastries. Really, I am quite impressed with the apparent quality - but, there, it is a wealthy parish, and I should hardly think his visitors would be fed on the bread and water of Christ. "Mere symbolism," they would say, with gruff certainty. "Of course the Son of God did not eat such simple fare! Why, wasn't the first thing he did make himself some wine?" Oh what pathetic little fools, whyever did we think you should be worthy of our society? It grows so hard to find ones we do not tire of... even I, with my constant searching, grow tired so soon, with very few exceptions.
        Sadie! Oh Sadie, my dear one, do forgive me this night! If only I knew where you were, I should have gone to you, but I am bound up by my own excuses now, and cannot go to look for you... Meres may show a face of compassion but I know full well what lies beneath it, if I left now he should laugh and spread the word to all of my weakness.
        By the time my thoughts have returned to the room about me, the wine has been poured, and glasses passed. The tray is set on a low table within easy reach of us all, with Mark sitting in a more comfortable chair than the one at his desk, and Claude - oh I can never seem to find a word for his manner of sitting besides perching! Even when still, he seems to flit about so quickly, I do not know if it is his eyes or his passionate gesticulations. But the boy comes to rest on a surprisingly plush footstool, remaining ever near Mark, really bringing nothing more clearly to my mind than a moth to a flame.
        The wine is passable, nothing to take especial note of but far better than I had expected. Light conversation begins, about the food and the wine, and drifting to other things of no consequence. Gradually, however, Meres shifts it to causes of more interest, and manages to make his question entirely casual and unobtrusive:
        "So, Mark, darling, I ought to have asked far sooner, but whatever is it that had you so engaged in study when I entered? I hardly dared distract you from it more than I had already done, so I did not inquire but allowed you to continue, you looked so very lost in it all."
        "Ah, well, I am afraid it is a bit of a personal indulgence, though of course all things eventually lead back to His service, you know."
        It is all I can do to not burst into laughter at this absolute naïveté. Oh what a consummate scholar! So perfectly out of touch with what living life and its pleasures will do to the soul. We simply must ensure he does not discover the depths of his error for quite some time, this is far too entertaining to listen to.
        "I do not know if you are familiar with it, but in the book of Genesis, just before the story of the Flood, there is a brief line regarding some scarcely-mentioned Biblical figures. It is said: "That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose." Following that, there is a reference to giants being in existence in those times and in times which followed, "when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown." "
        I swallow hard and steel my body, feeling my heart pick up its pace. I do not dare to look at Meres. This... this was what little we allowed to remain in their knowledge, and so few have ever noticed the vague reference that it has been... oh I do not know how long, but so long! So long since we heard those words, and heard another speak of our true heritage. I fight my body's will, struggling to keep the shake from my hand as I take another long draft of wine. I will the alcohol to slip into my bloodstream, urging it to dull my senses, to make light of all things...
        "There are other references to giants, of course, but they are referred to by different names in the Hebrew, and appear to be merely different ethnicities encountered by the Israelites in their travels. The word used here, in this first reference, is nephilim, translating as "sons of God", or, more literally, "sons of the powers"... oh but I must be boring you, to go on so!"
        "No, no," Meres answers, his reply coming quickly, his voice remarkably calm, but I can hear the strain he feels in making it thus. "No, do go on... I am quite intrigued."
        "Well, I was struck terribly by the strangeness of such an idea, certainly it was never covered in any of my lectures at school, or, indeed, any sermon I had ever heard. To think, that angels fell from Heaven to lie with human women! Given the placement of this mention, it seems quite probable that this was the very reason for the Flood itself, to rid the world of these unwanted half-breeds, along with the other evils prevalant at the time. Of course this entire thing may be a mere construct, to allow for some deviance into the vast pantheologies of all the cultures surrounding them - a loophole to let the early Jews fit in a little better with their neighbors, if you will, explaining the existance of semi-divine things in the world. All the same, I was intrigued, and began to research, and eventually began looking outside of the accepted canon of Scripture."
        Claude, who had been silent up until now, suddenly cuts in. "You hadn't told me that! Is that really allowed, then?"
        Mark chuckles softly. "It depends upon who you ask. Really, there are some books within the canon itself that are quite controversial - the libraries of the past, while attempting to be comprehensive, did not always do the work we do toward verifying the authenticity of their collections. And so there are many things which seem, upon closer examination, to be mere derivations of other works, or use as sources other books which are now lost to us... really, the whole field of manuscript authentication is quite a maze, I have had all I could do to find what I needed without becoming overwhelmed by it!"
        "So where do you find these sorts of books? Does the seminary really keep such things in its library?"
        I have to smile a bit at this - we hardly need step in at all, to get the information we desire. Still, this conversation is work enough, merely to survive it! To hear such strained references to a story we know so very, very well, and not fill in the glaring holes... to hear of those women we first thought we loved, those who seduced us and those who praised us, those whom we clung to, terrified... oh such strange things happened in those times! All was confusion, we were intrigued and thought we knew precisely what we did, but we knew nothing of time and mortality and the physical form... and then all was washed away, by the torrents of God's curse upon us and our children, our children whom we never knew...
        "It does, yes, for research purposes of course. Hardly the original manuscripts, those are found only in the largest libraries. But there have been translations of most, and copies made of all, that study might be done. Although, one of the books I have found especially enlightening, I have found is still considered canon in Ethiopia!"
        Claude laughs lightly. "So the dark continent is yet dark, after all!"
        Mark smiles, but shakes his head. "How can we know? Perhaps they were the more intelligent, for having held onto such a book all these years, while it was elsewhere lost. Our own church fathers thought it gone for good, until fairly recently. The book of Jude makes reference to it, so it is not as though it were entirely shunned by our traditions."
        I sneak a glance at Meres, and see him nod, his eyes dark and intense, a thousand thoughts steaming through them. I do not know what book it is of which he speaks, but from Meres' expression, I would assume it is the one we desire.
        "And what book is this? I do not pretend any great knowledge of religious texts, but..." I am amazed he is able to keep his voice so calm, so smooth and refined, for it is clear his emotions are as knotted as my own.
        "It is called the Book of Enoch, though its true authorship is of course highly disputed. When it was written is also questioned, particularly as it makes some messianic references which many think place it after Christ's ministry. Still, such references were made in the book of Isaiah as well... oh but I have gone so far from my subject!" He laughs, shaking his head. "But you must understand, I have studied this for years, and rarely have a willing audience for my findings. You must stop me if I ramble too much for your patience."
        "No, dear, we are in no hurry this evening, and the wine makes even the most dry conversation comfortable. Do go on, you have such a pleasant speaking voice."
        I believe the man blushes, but it might well be a flush from the wine, which he is sipping scarcely less frequently than we. "This book of Enoch, it seems to be a compilation of several different sections, which may or may not have been written at the same time - there are all sorts of discrepancies, in names and positions and such, but really, there are discrepancies within the canon as well, the most obvious being among the lists of lineage."
        Ah, yet another bright spot in this man's theology - he focuses on the academic minutiae, reading over all with a critical eye. Really, we haven't a thing to worry about from him, he is so engrossed in learning that he will scarcely ever think of applying any of it to his life. He is in the field for its vast knowledge, not for love of the faith. I let his voice subside into gentle, caressing waves for a minute, letting my body relax, it grows tired of the stone-like tension brought on by the content of the man's words. I do wish Meres would do something to hurry him up, I should like the information soon, so that we may go and find what we need to find, and get this whole messy episode over with. It is terribly uncomfortable, and I do not wish to think of it any longer than I need.
        Still, I cannot leave, for... I do not know where to go. I am terrified of another lapse, I dare not go far from the support of one of my own. Sadie, do find me, I do not know where to find you...
        "...the book of the Watchers, really, is the one I have focused upon, along with the Dream Vision section. It tells of a group of angels who were instructed by God to watch over the human race in its infancy. The angels begin teaching mankind various things - it is not really clear if this was God's will or not - astronomy, weaponry, cosmetics, that sort of thing. They found women to be attractive, and lay with them, and had offspring which became the Nephilim. They did seem to realize this was a sin, for their leader bound the rest of them with him in an oath, that they would pay the price for the sin together, were they discovered. In the end, God banished them from Heaven for these sins, and it seems they came to Enoch to bid his intercession on their behalf. This in itself is an interesting concept, given that tradition shows angels to be in a station above that of man - yet apparently, this group was under the impression they could gain some special aid by enlisting one of them to their cause."
        "What was that, Meres?" Claude inquires curiously, leaning toward him. I look up, to see Meres seething with rage. Even I unconsciously move backward, keeping distance from him, for he is terrifying in his anger (as are we all, I suppose).
        The boy, however, does not quite have the intelligence to realize the depth of the fury flaming up into Meres' eyes. He moves his ottoman closer, and peers into Meres' face with the trace of a mischievous grin. "Whatever so bothers you about this idea? You look altogether offended!"
        "I am." His voice is a low growl, the words sublimated in ominous hatred.
        Mark, flustered, begins a confused apology, but Meres cuts him off. "Go on! Did I tell you to stop? Do continue, and keep the boy from so interrupting, or I shall cut his tongue out from his head."
        Even I am taken aback by this. Claude, thankfully, finally realizes the seriousness of the situation, and moves hastily back to Mark's side.
        Timidly, nervously, Mark resumes. "Well, I... where was I? Oh, yes. Well, in any event, Enoch's intercession is contained in a later part of the overall book, which repeats many ideas from the first part. There is a bit of uncertainty, though, on the fate of the fallen angels. On the one hand, God commands several of his archangels - Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Uriel; this book is quite wonderful at providing names to what are canonically nameless beings - to bind the fallen ones, the leader in particular, burying him under rocks, until he is cast into fire at the final judgment. Uriel is sent to warn Noah of the impending flood. Yet in the Dream Vision section, the judgment is applied more generally to the earth, and it almost seems as though the fallen might have been carried on the ark. In either case, given this source and others, it looks as though the Nephilim may all have killed each other off, been hunted out by the Israelites, or merely died from lack of nutrition - it seems their immense height put a bit of a strain on the resources for survival, and they consumed all that was available, in the end resorting to cannibalism, for God's sake! Really, it is almost a tale for the tabloids - I suppose that is why I find it so engaging!" he finishes with a slightly-embarrassed laugh, glancing anxiously at Meres. "But, there, I have tired you enough, I must have worn your nerves terribly. Is there anything I may get you, Meres?"
        Meres has buried his face in his hands, his hair hanging low before his bowed head. He sighs deeply, taking a slow breath. With everyone's attention thus diverted, I take a moment to compose myself as well, breathing slowly and taking another long sip of wine. I do feel a touch of its sweet numbness settling into my limbs - a thing I am most grateful for. I dab the corner of one eye with my kerchief, and drink a little more wine. It was not an easy tale to hear, corrupted and vague though it was...
        "More wine, please," he sighs softly, his voice faint and exhausted. Mark obligingly refills his glass, and offers him the plate of pastries, but Meres waves it away, taking only the glass. He drinks half of it in one long draft, then takes another slow breath. Finally his gaze returns upward, and meets Mark's. "That book, darling," he continues, his voice so soft it is a silken caress, a lover's light touch, the whisper of a child, the murmur of a courtesan. "Do you have it here?"
        "I do, yes, I have it on loan from the seminary."
        "Would you lend it to me, dear?"
        He takes a slow breath, and shakes his head apologetically. "I am afraid not, the library is quite strict in their policies. It took some doing for me to be able to borrow it beyond the seminary grounds alone, and I must return it quite soon."
        "Darling..." he croons in a low voice, leaning forward and placing a gentle hand on the man's knee. The seduction in his voice is powerful, so smooth and rich, and I can feel the electricity in his gaze and in his touch even at a distance. (Or perhaps it is only the wine, and the recent amplifications of memory...) "Darling, you must know I can be trusted with it. Would I so betray your confidence in me? I am not one of the vulgar masses, or even one of the blind to whom you tirelessly preach. I know the importance of this volume, I shall of course treat it with great care. I should only like to peruse it myself, for I am intrigued by the story you tell."
        "I'm very sorry to disappoint you, but I really can't..."