“I left this group,” Celestine said at last. “But they were not quite done with me. Before I could leave them, I had one final duty to perform. The members of this group instructed me to carry a case to America and present it to a contact in New York.”
“Abby Rockefeller,” Evangeline ventured.
“In the beginning Mrs. Rockefeller was no more than a rich patron attending New York meetings. Like so many other society women, she participated in a purely observational capacity. It’s my guess that she dabbled in angels the way the wealthy dabble in orchids-with great enthusiasm and little real knowledge. Honestly, I cannot say where her real interests lay before the war. When war struck, however, she became very sincere in her involvement. She kept our work alive. Mrs. Rockefeller sent equipment, vehicles, and money to assist us in Europe. Our scholars were not overtly affiliated with either side of the war-we were at heart pacifists, privately funded, just as we had been from the beginning.”
Celestine blinked, as if a mote of dust had irritated her eyes, then continued.
“And so, as you can guess, private donors were essential to our survival. Mrs. Rockefeller sheltered our members in New York City, arranging their passage from Europe, meeting them at the docks, giving them refuge. It was through her support that we were able to undertake our greatest mission-an expedition to the depths of the earth, the very center of evil. The journey had been in the planning for many years, since the discovery of a written account outlining a previous expedition to the gorge. This account was brought to light in 1919. A second expedition was undertaken in 1943. It was risky driving into the mountains as bombs were falling over the Balkans, but-due to the excellent provisions Mrs. Rockefeller donated-we were well equipped. You might say that Mrs. Rockefeller was our guardian angel during the war, although many would be unwilling to go that far.”
“But you left,” Evangeline said quietly.
“Yes, I left,” she replied. “I will not go into the details of my motivations, but suffice it to say that I no longer wanted to participate in our mission. I knew that I was finished even before I arrived in America.”
A fit of coughing overtook Celestine. Evangeline helped her to sit up and gave her a sip of water. “On the night we returned from the mountains,” Celestine continued, “we experienced a terrible tragedy. Seraphina, my mentor, the woman who had recruited me when I was fifteen years old and trained me, was compromised. I loved Dr. Seraphina dearly. She gave me the opportunity for study and advancement that few girls my age had attained. Dr. Seraphina believed I could be one of their finest. Traditionally our members have been monks and scholars, and so my academic skills-I was quite precocious in school, having a working knowledge of many ancient languages-were especially attractive to them. Dr. Seraphina promised that they would admit me as a full member, giving me access to their vast resources, both spiritual and intellectual, after the expedition. Dr. Seraphina was very dear to me. After that night all of my work suddenly meant nothing. I blame myself for what happened to her.”
Evangeline could see that Celestine was deeply upset, but she was at a loss for how to comfort her. “Surely you did all that you could have done.”
“There was much to grieve for in those days. It may be difficult for you to imagine, but millions were dying in Europe. At the time I felt that our mission to the Rhodopes was the most vital mission at hand. I did not understand the extent of what was happening in the world at large. I cared only for my work, my goals, my personal advancement, my cause. I hoped to impress the council members, who decided the fate of young scholars like myself. Of course, I was wrong to be so blind.”
“Forgive me, Sister,” Evangeline said, “but I still don’t understand-what mission? What council?”
Evangeline could see the tension growing in Celestine’s expression as she contemplated the question. She ran her desiccated fingers over the bright colors of the crocheted blanket.
“I will tell you directly, just as my teachers told me,” Celestine said at last. “Only my teachers had the advantage of being able to introduce me to others like myself and to show me the Angelological Society’s holdings in Paris. Whereas I was presented with solid, incontrovertible proof that I could see and touch, you must believe me at my word. My teachers were able to guide me gently into the world I am about to reveal to you, something I am unable to do for you, my child.”
Evangeline began to speak, but a look from Celestine stopped her cold.
“To put it simply,” Celestine said, “we are at war.”
Unable to respond, Evangeline held the gaze of the woman before her.
“It is a spiritual warfare that plays out upon the stage of human civilization,” Celestine said. “We are continuing what began long before, when the Giants were born. They lived on the earth then, and they live today. Humanity fought them then, and we fight them now.”
Evangeline said, “You extrapolate this from Genesis.”
“Do you believe the literal word of the Bible, Sister?” Celestine asked sharply.
“My vows are based upon it,” Evangeline said, startled by the alacrity with which Celestine struck out at her, the note of chastisement in her voice.
“There have been those who interpret Genesis 6 as metaphorical, as a kind of parable. This is not my interpretation or my experience.”
“But we do not ever speak of these creatures, these Giants. Not once have I heard them mentioned by the sisters of St. Rose.”
“Giants, Nephilim, the Famous Ones-these were the ancient names for the children of the angels. Early Christian scholars argued that angels were free of matter. They characterized them as luminous, spectral, illuminated, evanescent, incorporeal, sublime. Angels were the messengers of God, infinite in number, made to carry His will from one realm to the next. Humans, created less perfect-created in God’s image, but from clay-could only watch in awe at the fiery disembodiment of the angels. They were superior creatures characterized by lustrous bodies, speed, and holy purpose, their beauty befitting their roles as the intermediaries between God and creation. And then some of them, a rebellious few, mixed with humanity. The Giants were the unhappy result.”
“Mixed with humanity?” Evangeline said.
“Women bore the children of angels.” Celestine paused, searching Evangeline’s eyes to be sure the young woman had understood her. “The technical details of the mingling have long been an object of intense scrutiny. For centuries the church denied that reproduction had occurred at all. The passage in Genesis is an embarrassment to those who believe that angels have no physical attributes. To explain the phenomenon, the church asserted that the reproductive process between angels and humans had been asexual, a mixing of spirits that left women with child, a kind of inverse Virgin Birth where the offspring were evil rather than holy. My teacher, the same Dr. Seraphina I spoke of earlier, believed this to be utter nonsense. By reproducing with women, she asserted, the angels proved that they were physical beings, capable of sexual intercourse. She believed that the angelic body is closer to the human body than one might expect. During the course of our work, we documented the genitalia of an angel, taking photographs meant to prove once and for all that angelic beings are-how shall I say it?-endowed with the same equipment as humans.”
“You have photographs of an angel?” Evangeline asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“Photographs of an angel killed in the tenth century, a male. The angels that fell in love with human women were, by all accounts, male. But this does not preclude the possibility of female members of the heavenly host. It has been said that one-third of the Watchers did not fall in love. These obedient creatures returned to heaven, to their celestial home, where they remain to this day. I suspect they were the female angels, who were not tempted in the same manner as the male angels.”