The End of Days

by A. E. Watson

  He flips me on my back and glares. “We are going to live through this. Me and you. There’s no way I’m spending the rest of my life in a picture.”

  His intense stare makes me smile and nod, but I know the truth of the matter: no one is getting out of this alive. Not us. Not Constantine. Not anyone. At some point I will have to lose everything to sacrifice.

  “Now what do you say we try to make that savior?” He winks, clearly feeling better.

  “No. I don't want to fight Lucifer, Michelle, and Stella, pregnant.” I offer a coy grin and squirm out of his grip but his hands hold tight.

  He pulls me firmly to him, brushing my hair from my face and laying the softest of kisses on my lips. “Me and you, Rayne. Always.”

  “Always.” I moan, completely swooning at the beautiful guy who is all mine. He makes the apocalypse seem like a rough storm. He blocks out the bad things, even the things I should be doing. He stops time and fear and doubt.

  But the knock on the door behind us brings it all back.

  “Wy?” his sister Maggie calls out softly. Her voice is missing its usual sarcastic venom.

  “Coming.” He kisses me once more before getting up and pulling on some pants and a hoodie. He opens the door, sighing when he sees her. “What’s up?”

  “Dad. I think he’s gone. I had a weird feeling when I was falling asleep so I looked up and he was there. He was standing at the foot of my bed and he smiled. I blinked and he was gone.” She sniffles and I realize I forgot to tell Wyatt what Willow had told me—about his dad being gone. He got sick from my eating and I let him sleep.

  He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into him. “Dad’s gone, Mags. Lucifer possessed someone and killed Dad and a bunch of the Van Helsings. Fitz saw it. They were tracking the vampire coven, and instead, fell into a trap. I didn't want to tell you, but I guess Dad wanted you to know.”

  She starts to cry, no longer holding back, making me wonder if Wyatt even mourned his father since he knows Jonathan is his real dad. He never told me that Fitz had seen it or that he knew. He came back here and held me. I noticed he was quiet, but I never even imagined it was because of his father’s death. Now it makes sense.

  Hugging a sheet to my body, I climb from the bed and grab some clothes, hurrying for the bathroom. I dress quickly and head for the painting. I touch and enter, leaving Wyatt and his sister alone. She doesn't like me. I don't need to make her uncomfortable while she grieves.

  When I get close to the cottage, I pause.

  Fitz is in the garden, staring at me. He offers me a look I recognize. I’ve seen it before. It’s the face he gave me before they betrayed me, several times now.

  He swallows and averts his eyes, glancing down again.

  I don't know what it means but the look from past lives haunts me, whispering to me that this is a terrible sign. My mind suggests it might be a trap, even with the common sense knowledge that this is a picture and they are both dead.

  “Hey.” I lift my hand slightly, forcing a polite wave as I walk to the cottage, knocking at the door. I can’t stop staring at the somber look on his face. Fitz’s eyes well as he struggles with something, words or maybe a confession. Maybe it’s another apology. I don't need another. I don't even care that he and the Van Helsings have killed me and betrayed me and tricked me. They’re all dead but Wyatt and Maggie. My father and Constantine killed them all. It feels like maybe we’re even. And the past is the past.

  “Come in, Rayne,” Willow calls impatiently. I crack the door open a little, still scared of that specific tone. Her eyes are red and her lip quivers as she pours over a book, nodding at it like a crazy person.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  She lifts her gaze. I jump when I see the fierceness in her eyes. “I told you not him! I told you not a Van Helsing, Nene! There was a reason I said that!”

  “Okay.” I don't know what else to say. Surely bringing up the fact that we’re soul mates is a bad plan. So I just stick with okay. I don't understand why she’s all upset about me and Wyatt again.

  But something changes and the anger in her eyes melts away with the tears that stream her cheeks. “You have to kill him. Before he knows,” she whispers as I close the door.

  “Who?”

  Willow’s trembling hands lift the book so I can see the same picture I saw before at Constantine’s castle. “Two sides of the same coin. Not soul mates, Nene. The same soul.”

  Fear and panic start to grow in me, taking over the confusion. “What?” I ask but I see what she’s saying. “Michelle’s the Antichrist.”

  She swallows hard, her head twitching in subtle denial of the words I have spoken.

  “No.” I slump back against the door, clutching the handle. “You’re wrong.”

  She shakes her head. “Jonathan swore up and down that he never meant to have the affair with Gretel. He said it was as if he couldn't stop himself, like it wasn't his doing. You said it yourself that Lucifer can possess people.”

  “People, not archangels. He can’t possess magical creatures.”

  “Lucifer is a seraph. He’s higher than an archangel. He can possess any angel lower than himself.” Willow points at the picture of the boy with two faces sitting on his mom’s lap. “You and Wyatt have always been drawn to each other. You can’t resist each other. No matter what they did, you found each other. You are the two sides of the same coin. He only grew when you were alive.”

  “We aren’t related.” There has to be a mistake. “There is no way.”

  “You are both Lucifer’s child.” She tries to hide the disgust but it’s not enough.

  “He’s Jonathan’s son!” I snap. “He’s not my brother. That—that’s repulsive!” My legs feel weak. I don't know how to stand and other simple functions are failing me. My knees buckle and I slide down the door, twitching my head back and forth and repeating the same thing, “He’s Jonathan’s. He’s Jonathan’s.”

  She drops the book and covers her face, letting the tears, grief, and anger bubble to the surface.

  I don't have any of that. I have denial but all other emotions have vanished.

  Willow hurries to me, wrapping herself around me, but even she can’t shield me from the horribly empty feeling in my chest. My stomach’s tight and then I’m retching. It splashes on the floor and all I can think is this isn’t possible—I’m in a painting. I’m not really here. It’s magic.

  She strokes my head and pulls me to the other side of the floor, away from the puke that’s overwhelming the small cottage.

  “No. None of this is real. That book isn’t even real. How did it even get here?”

  “Constantine brought it.”

  “He’s behind this!” I snap.

  “No. He was there a long time ago when the sentence ‘two sides of the same coin’ was spoken.” She pulls me back to her, forcing my head down. “He recalled it the other day and brought the book to me. He wanted to be wrong.”

  The cottage door opens with Fitz popping a head in. I can see that he also doesn't want this to be true. He’s sick about it. It’s obvious by the look on his face.

  “Tell her about the two sides of the same coin.”

  He flinches and looks down at the puke, wrinkling his nose. “The book speaks of the end of days, that the Antichrist and the Lamb of God will be two sides of the same coin. They will choose their paths based entirely upon the beast that is fed in their soul. If one chooses one path, the other is ultimately forced into the other.”

  “That's Michelle. I was chosen to be the hand of God, and she became Lucifer’s hand.”

  Fitz shakes his head. “If one was killed, the other would wait for them. You see, one cannot die unless the other kills them. You and Wyatt grew at the same time, him pausing for you. We assumed it was the way Van Helsings aged, slowly. We never saw the new part of the prophecy until this week. We never continued reading the bloody book, Rayne. We killed you each time or you died on your own. We never imagined for a second you might
actually live long enough to get to this. We believed that you could keep the balance on the earth.” He slumps. “We were fools. This moment was always coming. It was always going to happen. He was born with you. He was waiting for you when you died. It wasn't that you were soul mates—it was always this.”

  “HE IS YOUR NEPHEW!” My voice cracks, but I am losing my mind. “God, let me be losing my mind.” I cover my face and wail into my hands. When I realize my tears and grief can’t break through the shock, I let my hands slide down my cheeks.

  “I have loved him for centuries!”

  He leans in, spitting his words, “That is why I am dying inside. Gretel would be rolling in her grave if she knew Lucifer possessed Jonathan when he made love to her. She was infatuated with Jonathan, madly in love and lust. She believed it was mutual. If she’d known she gave herself to Lucifer, she would have ended her own life. Wyatt is a son to me. I would die again a thousand times to prevent this.”

  “That doesn't make him the Antichrist. This is insanity. There’s no way. If Jonathan’s body made the love then he is still his dad. Not Lucifer. Lucifer was in his spirit body or whatever you friggin’ weird people do. That doesn't make him Lucifer’s son.”

  Fitz’s eyes tell me I’m wrong, but my heart refuses to listen to the words he speaks. “Rayne, he is the other side of the coin, the other side of you. You and he are two peas in a pod. When the two of you were born, they didn't realize it was at precisely the same time. The part no one knew was that you were both Lucifer’s children. When you found each other, the Van Helsings used a seer to understand what the attraction was for you both as you were just small children. The seer said that you were two sides of the same coin. She said she heard it when she dream walked in the garden. She heard it declared you were two sides of the same coin, the same. The Van Helsings assumed it was the soul mates mark, something that would kill Wyatt when you were forced to take the evil and die. No one ever imagined it meant that he and you were to pair off against one another to save the world. One taking the hand of God and the other the hand of Lucifer.”

  “NO!”

  “Yes.” His eyes flood with tears as he nods, sniffling and shaking in a way I have never seen a man sob. “Do you think there is a single part of me that wishes this to be true?” His lips quiver.

  I turn, begging with my eyes, but Willow closes hers and leans into me. “I am sorry, Nene.”

  My eyes close too. I need to be able to block out all the words that have been spoken. All the truths before me that can’t possibly be right.

  Mona’s words mix with the seer’s, and I know there’s truth in them. It feels true but it can’t be. It won’t be. I won’t let it.

  “I have to go.” I push Willow off and force myself to stand. I step over my puke and push past Fitz, ignoring their shouting that I have to kill him before he finds out. I should do it nicely so he won’t even know I have murdered him.

  Mercy!

  That's the word they shout at me, but I ignore it and find my way out of the picture.

  Mercy.

  I stumble from the ruins of the crappy house in Boston and stagger out onto the frigid street, barefoot and cold. In the rubble and ash, I drop to my knees as tears blind me.

  I lift my face to the sky and scream one name.

  Chapter Seven

  The white walls of the ivory palace seem too clean for whom, or maybe what, I am. I can’t ever be clean enough to come to a place like this. Not after what I’ve done.

  The sin eating is one thing, but Wyatt being Lucifer’s child in any way makes me homicidal.

  My brother?

  God help me.

  I paced for a day when I got here.

  Then I lay and waited for them to come and take me, but the dead never showed up.

  Now I sit and stare out the window, wondering if Michael or Constantine has found Lucifer yet.

  My plan won’t work if Lucifer finds Wyatt first.

  And yet I can’t make myself go back to the fire witches.

  I can’t face any of them, not yet.

  How do I even explain to Wyatt that Lucifer may or may not have possessed his father and had sex with his mother, and soon after had sex with my mother, and then we were both born? It makes me confused and I understand what I’m thinking. I can’t imagine trying to explain it though.

  And what about the attraction?

  Will it fall away because I know his dad and my dad are sort of somehow the same person?

  I don't feel like it will.

  My brain still defends the entirety of it. I believe that regardless of Lucifer occupying Jonathan’s body when he did the deed, Jonathan is the father. It was his body. Wyatt and I are not related. That isn’t possible.

  The whole thing makes me sick. It makes me want to kill Lucifer all over again. But until I’ve finished what I need to do, I can’t kill him. I need him. That makes me even sicker.

  Outside in the cold air, angels and witches fly about, preparing for war. They train and fight in the white stone courtyard, and no matter how many times I see it, it’s still like I’m watching a fantasy movie out the window. None of this can possibly be real. None of it.

  Especially not the part where the guy I love is my brother in some sense of the word.

  I’m likely in a coma somewhere, dreaming of this very moment.

  One day I’ll either die or wake and then it will all be a fun story I get to tell.

  Minus the part where I fell in love with my brother.

  “Rayne.”

  I turn, not even bothering with a smile to greet Michael. The world is on fire so formality is gone too. Instead, I busy my mind with humming so he can’t read the thoughts that Wyatt is possibly the Antichrist.

  “I found the vampires.” He offers a wicked grin.

  “Good. I’ll go get Constantine and we’ll meet you there. Write down the location—he’ll know it. He’s as old as Methuselah’s goat.”

  “You do know that's disrespectable, right?” Michael cocks an eyebrow. “Methuselah was a kind man, and he never actually had a single goat live longer than a normal goat would live.”

  “Whatever.” I shrug.

  “What’s wrong?” He closes the door behind himself and leans on it, trapping me inside. “Something is different about you since I left. You look darker, like the light has gone out.”

  “I have to kill someone I love, the world is on fire, the plagues are slowly tearing the last bits of the good stuff apart. Last time I went outside insects were swarming people and covering the windows like a horror movie.” My words sound hollow, but I go back to humming to avoid thinking.

  “The insects are gone. It’s boils now. Such a lovely plague.” He looks disgusted, and yet like he’s still joking.

  “Location?”

  He sighs. “All right. But I have to say I liked you better before.” He grabs my arm and draws numbers along my forearm with his fingernail. It burns and then vanishes.

  “I think we all liked me better before.” I don't know which before we’re referring to though. There have been too many.

  He drags his finger across the spot and the bright white numbers and letters show up again. “Just show it to Constantine and he’ll know. If you don't want someone to see the location, don't rub your hand across it.” He winks and pulls his hand back as the mark fades. “Call me when you get there and have a plan. We’ll meet you there. When you see me, think of the plan and I’ll know.” He offers a weak smile.

  “Okay.” I leave the room, heading for the doors but decide to take a detour. I end up back at the tree of life where the mirror is. I sit and contemplate for a second, staring at myself and the tree behind me. Somehow I feel connected to this tree. Like it and I have shared something remarkable.

  Certain it’s something terrible, I turn and look away from the mirror.

  “Mona,” I whisper. I need her. I need an answer. Nothing happens so I lean forward, brushing my fingers against the cold glass. “Mona?
”

  Instead, Willow shows up, so faded I can hardly see her. “Don't do this, Nene.”

  “What?” Is it possible she knows my plan?

  “We all have to play the part we’ve been given.”

  “I don't have to do anything except choose.” I can’t stand the sight of her face. I know it’s not her fault. I know she isn’t the one who made this happen. But she is the safe person to blame.

  Her eyes water and she nods. “I love you with all my heart.”

  “None of that matters anymore. What is love when it’s used against you, twisted and made into something ugly?” Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to let them out. Instead, I force them to block out the world. They make everything hazy and impossible to decipher. “Just leave me alone.”

  She nods and fades and I get my wish. I am alone.

  Minutes pass as I let it all sink in. Wyatt is the one I will fight to the death.

  Huffing a breath in defeat and a lack of options, I get up to leave the room. As I pass by the tree a piece of fruit grows. I lift my hand to it, about to take it but a voice stops me, “Rayne!”

  I turn to see Michael staring at me from the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” He doesn't look confused or angry. He looks like he knows what I am doing.

  “If I eat the forbidden fruit, will I become the hand of Satan and stop being the hand of God?”

  “It doesn't work that way.” He shakes his head. “When you proved yourself humble and pious, you chose. You cannot go back on this choice.” He walks to me, taking my hand in his.

  “What if I commit a terrible crime or sin in a way no one would ever forgive?”

  “No.” He sighs. “You are the hand of God. The four horsemen confirmed that. There is no avoiding your destiny. You must cleanse the earth of the taint. You have to be a hero, even if you don't want to be.”

  “Do you know who the Antichrist is?”

  His eyes narrow, and I see the truth in them even though his lips don't move.

  “How long have you known?” I hate that this conversation is happening.