Page 13 of The Nephilim's Finesse

"Hey, Raph," she greeted me. "How are you doing?"

"Still trying to get used to everything," I replied, nodding at her. "It's a lot to take in."

"Tell me about it," she said with a chuckle. "But I'm sure you'll do great. We're lucky to have you as our leader."

"Thanks," I said, grateful for her words of encouragement. "I hope I don't disappoint."

"Trust me, you won't," Azariel stated. "I'm certain that you three will excel."

I took another deep breath, feeling more confident now. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I was ready to face whatever challenges came my way. As the circle of three, we could do this as long as we kept our heads straight and our hearts true; I knew we could handle anything.

“What about Victorija? Still no progress?” she asked softly. I shook my head, my jaw clenched.

I stood up and paced in my office, running my hands through my hair in frustration. Concern flickered in Azariel’s brown eyes as she took in my agitated state.

Azariel smiled reassuringly. "You'll find a way. You always do."

Her faith in me eased the boiling rage in my veins only a fraction.

"Damn it!" I muttered to myself, slamming my fist on the desk, causing my empty coffee mug to rattle and Azariel to inhale sharply in surprise. My usually calm resolve had been shattered by Victorija. As the days passed, that woman's silence tightened its grip around my throat, threatening to suffocate me with my own failure. "I don't know what else to do," I admitted. "She's impenetrable."

Azariel smiled. "No one is truly impenetrable. Everyone has a weakness, a chink in their armour. You just have to look harder." She sighed, coming over to me. I breathed in her calming scent, the familiar fragrance soothing my frayed nerves.

"How much longer can we keep going in circles like this?" I questioned, my voice barely a whisper.

"Sometimes, when we're lost, we need to retrace our steps and try a different path," Azariel suggested, her voice brimming with compassion. "Victorija is unlike anyone we've ever encountered before. Perhaps we need to approach her from a different angle."

Her words resonated with me. Azariel was right. Victorija had a weakness; I just had to dig deeper to find it.

"Just give yourself some time to breathe, and the answers will come," she reassured me, her warm hand squeezing my shoulder.

As I stood there, gazing into the depths of Azariel's eyes, I felt a spark of hope reignite within my chest. She was right; I had faced seemingly insurmountable obstacles before and had always managed to overcome them. This time would be no different. With renewed determination, I nodded and took a deep breath.

"Thank you," I whispered, grateful for the friend who had once again guided me through the darkness. I knew, one way or another, I'd find a way to make Victorija talk.

I stepped out of the bustling city streets into a dimly lit alleyway. The small street was flanked on each side by brown, graffiti-covered brick, and the street lamp on the corner buzzed softly while the numbing cold December air filled my nostrils with a hint of urine and mould. The distant sounds of car horns and chatter filled my ears, but my mind was elsewhere. Of course, it was Victorija again. I knew my hate for her clouded my judgement, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I had an appointment to see Brian, one of the individuals I worked with as a social worker specialising in substance abuse. He had been struggling with addiction for years now, but recently, he'd been making progress.

As I approached our meeting spot, I saw him leaning against a brick wall, looking more haggard than usual. Besides his young age, he was a small man with a pale complexion and salt-and-pepper hair.

"Hey, Brian." I greeted him with a nod, my breath forming a cloud in front of me.

"Raph," he replied, his eyes bloodshot and tired. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," I said, studying him closely. "How have you been?"

"All right," he stated, shrugging. "Been trying to stay clean, but it's tough." He leaned against the wall; the cold bricks had to feel like ice against him.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, I smiled reassuringly. "I know it is, but I believe in you. You've come so far already."

He nodded, but I could tell there was something else on his mind. "What's going on?" I asked, sensing his hesitation.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but I didn’t buy it.

"Brian," I emphasised, "you can tell me anything. Remember, I'm here to help."

He took a deep breath before speaking. "It's my mum," he blabbered, his voice trembling slightly. "She's been getting worse lately. She drinks all the time, and she's always yelling at me. I can't stand it anymore."

I felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing firsthand how difficult it could be to deal with addiction. "I'm sorry. Have you tried talking to her about it?"

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