by Tara Brown
Blake looks at me. “You sure?”
I nod. I pull my dad into a bedroom and smile. “Don't scream, okay?”
He agrees but I can see the fear on his face. I burst my wings from my back as Blake does his. My father steps back. “Mother fuck.”
I snort. My father is more of a ‘gosh diddly dang’ sort of guy.
Blake steps back, not sure how to take my father cussing that way.
“Are those-are those real?” He removes his glasses and takes a step toward my huge black wings. “Oh God, Aimee. Are you dead?”
“No. I never died.” I offer the only smile I can. It isn’t huge or convincing but it’s sincere. “We are man’s last chance at saving the world. We are redeeming angels.”
“Did the government make you this way?”
I shake my head as he swallows, touching the wings hesitantly and walking behind me, running his fingers along the spot they rip from my back. It feels weird to have a human touch my wings. I have never felt this sort of contact. He looks me in the eyes and speaks softly, “Then I suppose there is only one person who could have made you this way.”
I nod and he starts to cry, not restraining himself in any way. “You are so beautiful. Both of you. And it’s real. It’s all real.”
I can’t fight the tears in my eyes. Seeing my father cry is always painful. “Dad, there is a reason I am telling you this.”
“The baby, I assumed as soon as the wings came out. It will be special, like you?”
“We don't know. We assume.” Blake lowers his head. “The problem is that it’s unlikely Alise will survive the birth. Women rarely do. I didn't know it could happen. We’re not regular angels. We didn't die and become this or get sent from God in the traditional way. We were made to be this through another means.”
My father doesn't react the way I think he will in any way. He puts a hand on Blake’s arm and smiles weakly. “But you also can’t be sure she’ll die. If you were not made by God and you were not sent here, then you cannot know how it will be.” His voice shakes a little. “If I have learned anything in this past three years of living through the world ending slowly and painfully, it’s that there is still hope. I refuse to believe my daughter will die because I have a feeling she is part of the miracle we need to survive all of this.”
I can only guess that Marcus’ compulsion has him reacting way too calmly. Or he’s hit his head recently. He shakes his head. “All this time, we thought you were working behind desks.”
“Not so much.”
He puts a hand up. “I don't want to know, kiddo. I love you and I trust you—always have. Just let me know if things go the wrong way out there.”
I wrap my arms around him, pulling my wings back in. “I will.”
He runs his hand along my cheek. “Don't tell you mother or Blake’s parents. They are already very fragile.”
Blake leans into the hug too. “Thanks for being cool, Mr. James.”
My dad sighs exhaustedly. “That's me. The cool dad.”
It makes me grin. He is the opposite of what one would perceive as cool, but he has always been the coolest to me.
We walk back out into the kitchen where they’re laughing. I hear the tension in their voices. It’s slight and gets worse when any one of their gazes draws toward my sister’s massive belly. She’s eating peanut butter with a spoon from the jar. She grins at me. “I know the baby books say you shouldn't eat peanut butter, but I just crave it so bad, and I have a feeling the baby will be fine.”
I almost laugh but I manage not to. “Yeah, she’ll probably be fine.”
“You think it’s a she too?”
I nod.
She looks at Blake smugly. “See, told ya.”
He rolls his eyes. “I never argued.” She falls into his arms, kissing his cheek. “So can you stay till after the baby is born?” She bats her huge lashes at him. She really is beautiful in every single possible way.
He glances toward me before answering. “Yup.”
I rub her back. “He can stay as long as you need him. No one will care, they know he needs to be here.”
She squeals. I am dying inside and need to leave, but I know I have to stay too. “I’m going to take a nap.” I flash a quick wink at Blake. He nods back.
As soon as I’m in the room with the door closed, I wink back to Shane’s. He and Giselle are playing crib but both freeze, staring at me. Shane stands, knowing immediately that something is wrong. I collapse and start bawling again, like I am child. It’s been my thing all day long.
Shane wraps himself around me, in a way that is familiar and normal. Giselle comes in the back, wrapping around me there. I tremble with rolling sobs and heaves.
I can’t shake it—the sadness and loss and everything and yet nothing has happened. I am safe. My parents are safe. My sister is safe, for now.
So many have lost everything and I have lost nothing. The cost of what I will lose feels like I have weighed it for the first time, and now I see I can’t bear the price. It’s too much for the world to be this full of sadness and pain. It isn’t fair.
Ari comes into the room, dropping to her knees and joining the embrace. “It’s going to be okay, Aimes. She’s going to live. You wait and see.”
I shake my head. “I can taste her death on my lips already.”
Shane cries as hard as Giselle and I do. None of us are prepared for this moment.
How do you prepare for someone to die when they are not sick and the thing that is killing them is something you will have to love?
Lorelei comes in, pausing in the doorway, confused and appearing as if she might turn and run. I can see her counting heads. “Is someone hurt?”
“Alise is about to give birth to Blake’s baby and Ari is pregnant.”
Lorelei’s eyes lower. “Oh.” At least her response is sane. I feel like almost everyone else is all about giving the babies a chance. But Lorelei’s face is constipated with fear and panic that she cannot release. “Congratulations, Ari.” Lorelei’s eyes meet mine and I nod. “You and Lucas must be thrilled.”
“I am.” The group sob fest makes Ari look uncomfortable. She gets up and grabs some food from the cupboards, not looking back at us.
But I watch her constantly. I can see the fear in her face. The fear she lies to herself and all of us about. Giselle gets up, giving me some space so I can get up too.
Shane looks at me, still completely stricken with the proper amount of fear a moment such as this one calls for. “Are you going back?”
I nod. “I’ll stay until the baby is born. I need to be there in case it goes the way I have to assume it will.”
Ari’s back stiffens but her eyes do not meet mine.
Giselle gives me a hopeful look. “Can I come?”
I nod. “Shane, you too?”
He shrugs. “If it’s all right.”
“I think Blake could use all the help he can get. He’s terrified and she’s ecstatic.”
Ari walks out of the kitchen, visibly pissed. I can’t help how I feel anymore than she can help being pregnant. It’s a shitty situation for us all.
We wink back to the woods outside of the lodge. “Come and ring the doorbell in like two minutes.” I wink to the room I am meant to be napping in, leaving Shane and Giselle in the woods.
I walk out, having no idea how long it has been since I went for my nap. Blake rolls his eyes. “It’s been like fifteen minutes and you look worse.”
I pull my middle finger from my pocket. “I brought you something.”
He feigns delight. “You shouldn't have.”
“Shane and Giselle are here too.”
He looks a little uncertain how to react to that. But there is a knock at the door before he can say anything. Alise is squealing and hugging. Blake cocks an eyebrow. “Really?”
“They want to be here.” I glance over at my dad, noticing the puzzled look on his face. He is asking me a question with his eyes. I nod discreetly. His eyebrows lift
in surprise.
Blake turns and waves. “Hey, guys!”
Giselle comes in, hugging him, sobbing silently.
Alise scowls. “Why is everyone so sad? You guys need to mellow out.”
Giselle wipes her face, nodding. “I’m happy, these are happy tears. I get to be an aunty and you’ll have fat and stretch marks before me.”
Alise rolls her eyes. “Like I have a stretch mark.” They saunter over to the large great room, sitting on the massive leather sectional, the two of them giggling.
Shane marvels at the lodge. “Dude, how have they survived here so long?”
Blake sighs. “I spend most of my days bringing them stuff. I’ve kept them alive by winking food here, and water and supplies. I even found a baby store and brought her everything she will need. They never leave here. They garden off to the side in a massive greenhouse. It’s crazy, but basically being a survivalist fanatic my whole life, and a conspiracy theorist, has helped them.”
“And you have the ability to travel with a thought.”
Blake grins. “That has come in handy.” He glances at Alise with longing in his eyes. “I tell them it’s government rations. But it’s shit I steal from the dead and from old warehouses. I found a train once, filled with everything. It was headed to a small town. I brought them chickens and sheep. They raise them over in a barn. My dad and Aimee’s have become avid gardeners and farmers.”
“They run the genny every now and then when they need to,” I add.
Blake nods. “I bring fuel still when I can find it. They shower then. There’s a bunch of solar panels too for when they need to run things. I was even thinking about a windmill but the work that needs to go into it is insane.”
Shane whistles. “This is impressive.”
“I convinced my dad he needed a place off the grid when I knew shit was going downhill. He had the money to do it. They stocked food and water and batteries and everything. They still have shit downstairs that's stored.”
We look around at the massive lodge, admiring the effort and ability rich people have to survive, even the apocalypse.
When the humans all go to bed, the angels stay up, sitting in the chairs, in the dark. We watch the sunrise in silent contemplation.
Chapter Sixteen
The Christmas miracle
She goes into labor Christmas morning. There are no gifts. My dad instead asked us all to write one nice thing about each person in the room.
I am mid-compliment to Giselle when Alise grabs her belly, heaving her breath.
My mom jumps up, leaning into Alise and talking her through the contraction.
I almost laugh at the date but I can’t.
Blake helps her to the room they have designated the birthing room. She paces, sweating and crying and breathing heavily. It is in that moment I see my sister’s strength is so much more than I ever gave her credit for.
She is strong, and for the first time I can see it. She bears down, groaning and breathing.
Blake stays with her the entire time, holding her hand and speaking calmly. I expected her to shout and cry and tell him what a bastard he is. I expected shallow behavior. But she is strong and quiet. She takes every moment drug free, grunting and suffering. She doesn't complain or cry. The tears slip from her eyes when the pain gets bad, but she doesn't make a sound beyond the odd heaving breath or grunt.
My palms are sweating. My stomach is a mess. My entire body is on fire with fear and nerves. I can’t even imagine how Blake is feeling, or my father, now that he knows the truth.
Shane and Giselle stay out in the main room with Blake’s parents and my father. But Blake, my mother, and I are all here with her.
“I need to push.” She squats, pressing like she is weight lifting. A vein pops in her neck, pulsating with her rapid heart. She finishes the squeeze with a moan. Within seconds she is pushing again. Blake kneels with her, feeling her dark-haired vagina with his hands. I almost gag, realizing I could never have been a doctor.
But he could have. He doesn’t even notice when the water breaks on his hands or the plug slips between his fingers. I heave, holding back every possible noise I could make.
“I can feel the head, baby. Push again.” Blake’s voice gives me hope. Alise is still alert and strong. She doesn't look like she’ll drop dead any second. She looks like a warrior, and I have never had more respect for her. She digs her fingers into her thighs, bearing down with a scream. A little dark head pops between her legs. Blake’s face is sheer joy and bliss. “Her head’s out. Her head’s out. Stop pushing. Let me move her shoulders a little.”
Alise reaches down between her legs, crying when her fingers meet the dark-haired angel. The joy on her face brings tears to my eyes. My mother is sobbing, clutching to her, muttering sweet encouragements to Alise.
“Okay, push one more time, baby.” Blake nods excitedly.
Alise sniffles, takes a breath, and pushes with ferocity. She seethes a type of rage as she passes the whole baby between her lady parts. She comes out, slippery and tiny. She doesn’t look special. She doesn't look unique. She doesn't look any different than any other perfect baby girl. She’s pink and red and has some weird white stuff on her. She screams. Blake wraps her in a blanket, cleaning her off. He passes the baby to my mom and cuts the cord. Alise pushes again, bearing down like she did before. The afterbirth comes slopping out. I turn my head away quickly, focusing on the tiny angel that has joined our family. Her black eyes focus on mine. I swear to God, she knows me. I reach for her as Blake puts Alise on the cot they have in here. She lies back, holding her trembling arms out. Mom puts the tiny baby on her chest. Where the baby is screaming and shaking, Alise is laughing and smiling.
Alise is alive. I’m exhausted, even though I’ve done nothing. My heart is racing and my mouth is sour and yet still dry.
I don't even know how to respond to the baby, beyond loving her. But I know how to respond to my sister still being alive. I join Blake at her side, crying and kissing her shoulders.
She looks so beautiful and I swear to God she is a miracle.
We snuggle and cry and as the room fills with the other people, we all praise Alise on her job well done. The four grandparents are smitten, instantly. Blake looks as though he has never been more in love.
And Alise has never looked healthier or more vibrant.
We stay for two days, cooing and kissing and worshipping at her tiny feet. They call her Terra Grace, in hopes that she will bring grace and peace to the Earth.
Blake is forcing me out the door as I kiss her tiny little feet once more. “Aunty loves you!” I wave and walk out the front door.
Shane sighs a massive burst of relief at the steps as Blake closes the door on us. “Oh my God, that was intense.”
Giselle gives him a look. “We are never doing that.”
He nods. “Never.”
We walk to the woods, where our ‘helicopter’ is picking us up. We wink to Shane’s when we’re out of sight. Dorian’s eyes are massive. “WELL?”
“She’s fine. She never died. She never hemorrhaged. It was textbook.”
He sighs. Ari comes rushing to us, hugging me. “Was the baby cute?”
I nod. “Adorable. She’s got tons of dark hair and black eyes. I imagine she looks the way you did as a baby.”
Marcus nods. “That's the best news we’ve had in days.”
I step back. “Why? What’s happened?”
Dorian’s dark eyes are filled with something I would classify as not good. “Sam has an army.”
“What? He only became the—oh, Lillith. Of course. She’s been making this army since the dawn of time, right?”
Dorian scoffs. “Literally that long.”
“Shit.”
Ben rolls his eyes. “We’re fucked. Shit isn’t the right word. This army is like us times a million.”
“Great.” Shane slumps into a chair. Giselle lands on top of him. “What can we do against it? Can we kill them?”
/> Dorian nods. “I imagine we can kill them but not before they ruin everything in the world.” He glances at me. “I’m glad your sister is okay, but we need Blake back.”
“I know. He’s coming tonight. The whole no cell phones thing is not working out so awesome.”
Oliver chuckles. “Even I miss my cell phone.”
Lorelei shakes her head. “We need to focus on the army. We need to cripple her and weaken them. Hellfire is a great way. I can cast it, so that's one thing in our favor.”
“She can cast it back and cripple the few of us that are on our side.”
Lorelei gives Shane a dirty look. “We might not die from hellfire.”
“We might be horribly injured for a time though.”
She rolls her eyes. “We heal.”
“Where is Sam?” I ask as Gwen and Landry come strolling in as the sun sets behind us.
“He’s in Europe. Last time I saw him, he was in Spain. His army is in France.” Gwen yawns and mumbles.
The joy of my sister living through the birth is diminished by the fact Lilith is so prepared and we are still bumbling our way through everything.
Chapter Seventeen
Guard duty
His lips trail along my neck. I’ve given up swatting at him. He doesn't listen. He runs a hand over the front of my tee shit, thumbing my nipple until it stands at attention for him. My thighs are squeezed as tight as they can be, but I can’t fight anymore. I turn, succumbing to the taunting and torture he’s subjecting me to.
Our lips meet in a crash. We don't often do gentle, per se. It’s tender in comparison to what I expected from him, but still not what I would call gentle. His tongue invades, caressing against mine as he tears a large portion of my shirt from me. I groan. “Dorian, there are like eight shirts left in the friggin’ world. Can you stop tearing them?”
He shakes his head, kissing along my neck. “No, love. I’ll learn to sew if I have to, just so I can tear them off.”