Seraphim

by Leslie Swartz

  “I don’t believe we’ve ever actually met,” she said. “You’re what, the Protector of Humanity?”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  “Sounds like a burden,” she assumed. “No greater burden than what the rest of God’s errand boys are tasked with, though, I imagine.” She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “What to do, what to do?” she pondered. “Do I kill you so I don’t have to look over my shoulder for the next sixty years, or do I spare you, thereby ensuring my daughter’s loyalty? Decisions, decisions.”

  Wyatt quietly gathered all the energy around him, knowing he’d need all he could handle to take her down.

  “Answer a question for me,” she demanded. “Would it be possible for me to recruit you to my cause? Would you be willing to join me in conquering the human nuisance and ruling over them while waiting on my daughter and I, hand and foot?”

  “No,” Wyatt answered plainly.

  “Pity. ‘Protector of Humanity’,” she scoffed. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s nothing you can do to save this world from me.”

  He gave her a knowing look and a condescending smirk as he raised his hand, rounded up all the energy in the clouds and brought down a truly massive bolt of lightning. It ripped through the air, brighter than anything human eyes could tolerate and so hot, it melted the snow on the roof before striking Lilith directly on the top of her head, plunging through her and knocking Wyatt back.

  Lilith fell, dazed, her breathing shallow, her eyes glossy. Gabriel was released, her feet barely touching the ground before she used her telekinetic ability to free Valerie.

  “Smite!” Gabriel exclaimed giddily.

  Wyatt stood and approached Lilith again. He raised his hand once more, preparing to strike her again, but before he had the chance, Lucifer appeared behind her, having floated up the side of the building. He knelt down behind his twin, placing one hand on her heart and grasping her arm with the other.

  “I realize it’s been some time since we were last together on Earth,” he said to her as the hand on her chest began to glow. “But, did you honestly forget that I can fly?”

  Lilith’s body shook as if she were having a violent seizure. Blood poured from her nose, mouth, and ears. Even her eyes spilled tears of blood. Lucifer’s face remained determined, his eyes watching closely to make sure that after the darkness that was her essence slowly and painfully peeled away from the girl she had been inhabiting, it went back to where it belonged in the deepest and most secure part of Hell.

  “See you at home, sister,” he whispered as the last bit of her disappeared. “You’re welcome,” he said, looking up at Wyatt as the skies inexplicably cleared.

  “That was you?” Wyatt asked.

  “I thought you could use the assist. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get this girl to a hospital. Seems the poor dear has suffered a lightning strike.” Lucifer grinned, gathered Lilith’s ex host, who remained unconscious, and jumped off the roof, floating down and running with inhuman speed to the nearest emergency room.

  “Will she be okay?” Wyatt asked Gabriel.

  “Not even close,” she told him. “But, she’s probably got family looking for her. At least they won’t be left wondering if she’s dead in a ditch somewhere.”

  “I guess,” he muttered, feeling guilty about hurting the innocent child Lilith had taken hostage.

  “Hey,” Gabriel consoled. “You did what had to be done to save humankind. And, that poor kid’s brain would’ve been mush no matter how or when Lilith left, just like the demons at home. Speaking of which, we should go figure out what to do with those bodies. I vote dumpster fire. Worked for Lucifer.”

  “What?” Wyatt asked.

  “What?”

  “So,” Valerie asked. “She’s gone? Like, all the way gone? We’re done?”

  “Totes,” Gabriel responded.

  “For real?”

  “Yeah, bitch is gone.”

  “Well, shit,” Valerie beamed. “I’m gonna go home, smoke a bowl and relax for the first time in months!” She ran down the stairwell, got in the elevator and was gone.

  Gabriel laughed as she and Wyatt followed down the steps.

  “You’re not gonna follow Lucifer?” he asked. “You seemed pretty pissed when he went off on his own earlier.”

  “Nah,” Gabriel replied. “I know what he was thinking about and it wasn’t wreaking havoc. He met a girl.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah, a hot bartender chick.”

  “Nice.”

  “Like, really hot.”

  “Okay,” Wyatt chuckled.

  “I mean, like, stupid sexy.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Slammin’ body.”

  “Do you want to be alone?”

  “No, but if I go out later, don’t wait up,” she instructed.

  He laughed as they exited the building and began the walk back to Gabriel’s apartment.

  “I guess I have to go home and pack up my place.” he said. “I don’t want to live there without Annie. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “You know you can stay with me as long as you want,” she invited. “Just because we don’t have a villain to vanquish doesn’t mean we’re not still family.”

  “I appreciate that, but I need to figure my life out,” he told her. “I have all this property to deal with, sell off, something. I should check on my dad before I go.”

  “This all sounds like future problems to me,” she declared. “Tomorrow stress. Tonight, I say we watch bad reality TV and drink.”

  “What is with you and reality shows?” he wondered.

  “When people are on TV,” she explained. “I don’t know what they’re thinking. Makes me feel like a normal person. Or, what I think a normal person must feel like. Not knowing what someone’s about to say or do. It’s exciting. Like a roller coaster.”

  He laughed a little.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “But, can we eat? I’m starving.”

  “Pizza,” she said knowingly.

  “Obviously.”

  Chapter 25

  The next day, Wyatt packed his car with the clothes Gabriel had bought him, at her insistence, along with the file of his uncle’s properties and began the sixty-eight mile drive back to his New Jersey apartment. As he drove, he couldn’t get the image of that poor girl out of his mind. Her dead-behind-the-eyes stare as Lucifer stripped Lilith from her haunted him. Who was she? What could she have grown up to be had she not been made Lilith’s sacrificial lamb? What could her life have been like? Knowing that it wasn’t his fault that she was comatose and that her family was surely devastated by her condition, which he knew to be permanent, didn’t help him to feel any less guilty. She was just a kid. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

  He was almost home, having gotten off I-95 on Garden State Parkway, when his phone rang. He took it from his pocket and put it on speaker.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello,” a strange man’s voice replied. “May I speak to Wyatt Sinclair?”

  “This is Wyatt.”

  “Mr. Sinclair, this is Dr. Laurence, your wi--”

  “You’re breaking up,” Wyatt told the caller. “Did you say ‘my wife’?”

  “Yes,” the doctor said, speaking louder, as if that would somehow give Wyatt better reception. “Annie suf--,”

  “She what?” Wyatt asked, his stomach dropping as he tried to focus on the road and make out what the doctor was saying.

  Through the garbled, robot-sounding syllables and static, Wyatt could make out a few words: ‘Central Medical Center’, ‘need you’ and ‘DNR’. His heart sank as the call dropped. ‘DNR’. ‘Do not resuscitate’. His hands shook and his heart raced. He thought he might hyperventilate as he altered course, speeding to the hospital, ignoring stop signs and traffic lights on the way, almost getting into several accidents, blind to the world around him. Once there, he raced into the building, barely getting the car door closed before he spri
nted through the parking lot. He worked to stifle his anxiety as he quickly approached the front desk.

  “I’m looking for Annie Sinclair,” he told the receptionist.

  She typed something in her computer before looking back up at him, concern in her eyes.

  “Second floor,” she said quietly. “Room two-sixteen. But--”

  “Thank you,” he called as he ran to the elevator, frantically pressing the up button. It opened immediately and he stepped inside. As the doors closed, he took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself.

  When the doors opened again, he searched the room numbers along the hall. 208, 210, 212.

  “Can I help you, sir?” a chipper nurse asked.

  “I’m just looking for room 216,” he told her.

  Her face fell. “Are you Mr. Sinclair?” she questioned, her voice shaky.

  “Yes.”

  “Wait right here,” she instructed. “I’ll get the doctor.” She hurried back to the nurse’s station and he watched as she made a call, the two other nurses there shooting him sympathetic glances. He knew it was bad. He again checked room numbers. 214 and, finally, 216. As he reached for the handle, a man in a white coat put his hand on his shoulder, gently turning Wyatt to face him.

  “Mr. Sinclair, I’m Dr. Laurence,” he said, removing his hand from Wyatt’s shoulder. He reached out to shake Wyatt’s hand, but Wyatt ignored it. “Mr. Sinclair,” he continued, ignoring the snub. “I’m very sorry. We did everything we could, but--”

  “But, what?” Wyatt asked, his voice raised.

  The doctor was visibly uncomfortable, but worked to maintain his composure.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll give you a few minutes to say goodbye before she’s moved.”

  “Moved where?” Wyatt seethed.

  “Mr. Sinclair, your wife made it very clear that in these circumstances, she wanted her viable organs harvested for donation. I know it sounds grim, but it’s actually--”

  “What circumstances?”

  “Well, brain death, sir.”

  Wyatt was crushed. Tears filled his eyes as he felt the world come crashing down around him. He opened the door to the room and what he saw broke him. She was there, lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and wires, machines beeping all around her. He felt his legs go weak and he thought he might pass out.

  “Take your time,” the doctor said, closing the door, leaving Wyatt alone.

  His heart pounded in his ears as he drew closer. How could this be happening? She was only thirty-five. He stood over her, touching her soft, blond hair, the sight of her chest rising and falling with such force breaking his heart even more.

  He fell to his knees, sobbing, touching her face and burying his own in the pillow next to hers, the smell of her lavender shampoo filling his lungs. He screamed into the pillow, the sorrow overwhelming him. He had never felt such pain, the anguish taking him over completely. As he wailed, the lights in the room began to flicker. One of the bulbs in the overhead light blew out, shaking Wyatt free of his misery. Of course. His wife may have been technically dead, but she didn’t necessarily have to stay that way.

  Gabriel, he thought. I need you. I need you right now.

  On my way, she responded.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he said to the body, wiping the tears from his face. “We’re gonna fix this. You’ll be all right.”

  He sat in a chair next to the bed, holding the corpse’s hand for over an hour as he impatiently waited, his leg shaking and his mind racing. Finally, Gabriel showed up, hurrying into the room, ignoring the nurses that tried to stop her.

  “Jesus, B. I’m so sorry,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “What do you need?”

  “I need you to wake her up.”

  “I don’t think--”

  “You did it for Lucifer,” he reminded. “You did it for Valerie.”

  “Lucifer wasn’t,” she paused, trying to be tactful. “This. He was just stuck. And Valerie would’ve been fine on her own, I just overreacted in the moment. I don’t know if I can help here.”

  “Tae told me you could raise the dead. He told me. I’ve seen you. You can do anything. Please,” he begged. “Please.”

  “Okay, I’ll try,” she agreed, feeling his desperation. She went around to the other side of the bed and placed one hand on the dead woman’s head and the other on her heart. Gabriel’s hands glowed, but Annie’s skin did not. After a few minutes, she gave up.

  “I can’t,” she said softly, coming back around to stand in front of her brother. “Her soul’s already gone.”

  “Then bring it back!” he commanded, jolting up from his seat.

  “The Gates are closed. Only human souls can get in. I’m locked out.”

  “Do something!” he shouted, grabbing his sister’s shoulders.

  “Wyatt!” she said, her use of his human name jarring him into silence. He let her go and steadied his breath. “I’m really sorry, but your girl’s gone.”

  He collapsed back in the chair, tears again streaming down his face. Gabriel knelt down in front of him and took his hands in hers.

  “Listen,” she said. “I know, coming from a normal person, that saying, ‘she’s in a better place’ would be cliche’ and not comforting whatsoever. But, you can believe me when I tell you, Heaven is fan-fucking-tastic. I can guarantee you, she’s happy as shit up there right now.”

  He wiped his tears away and tried to get it together. He looked over at his wife and stroked her hair one last time.

  “It’s not fair,” he uttered. “We weren’t together, but she was still--”

  “No,” Gabriel said, standing back up. “It’s not fair. It’s kind of bullshit. But, at least you don’t have to think about her banging some other dude anymore.”

  “That’s really not helpful.”

  A knock came from the door and it opened just enough for a nurse to poke her head in.

  “He’s all ready to go,” she told them before quickly disappearing back in the hall.

  Wyatt stood and started toward the door, giving his wife one final glance.

  “What the,” Gabriel whispered.

  “She donated her organs,” he told her. “The doctor’s been waiting.”

  “That’s not,”

  They left the room, Wyatt stopping in the hall to look back inside, the space now filled with medical personnel blocking his view of Annie’s face. He brushed away one last tear as he resigned himself to the fact that she was really gone.

  “Here we are,” the nurse said from behind him. He turned to see her standing beside a cart with bags on the bottom and a car seat on top. Strapped into the seat was a tiny baby covered by a striped blanket.

  “I’m sorry, what?” he asked, profoundly confused.

  “He’s had all of his tests, his vitamin K and Hep B shots,” she explained. “All the follow up information is in the folder in the bag along with his diapers, wipes and a few bottles of the formula he’s been on. He’s a very good eater, aren’t you?” she said playfully, booping the infants nose. “Oh! Almost forgot. Let me just get the scissors to take off his bracelet and you can be on your way.” She walked off, disappearing into one of the rooms.

  Wyatt walked closer to the cart, standing over the baby who looked up at him and cooed. He lifted the blanket and examined the bracelet around the child’s ankle. It had Annie’s name and the day before’s date typed on it.

  “Angel of Blessings,” Gabriel muttered shakily.

  “I don’t understand,” he said quietly. “She was having an affair for months before she left? That’s--”

  “Not what happened,” Gabriel told him.

  He looked at his sister who, for the first time since he’d met her, looked nervous. More than nervous. She looked downright scared.

  “You’re telling me he’s mine?” Wyatt asked, disbelief coloring his voice. “I thought there was no way.”

  “He has your eyes,” she said, her voice trembling.


  He looked back down at the newborn and realized she was right. He looked just like Wyatt’s baby pictures.

  “How?” he asked, a quiver now in his voice, as well.

  Gabriel glanced around quickly to make sure no one was in earshot.

  “Lightning isn’t your only thing,” she explained. “Barachiel is also the Angel of Blessings. Sometimes, when a woman prays for a baby, you make sure she gets one. I didn’t think you could do that in this form. It requires a metric fuck ton of power. But, she must have prayed to get knocked up while you two were boning and you unknowingly answered that prayer,” she told him. “With your dick.”

  The nurse returned with the scissors and carefully cut the bracelet from the baby’s ankle.

  “There you go, William,” she said. “That’s got to be more comfortable, huh?”

  “Did you say, ‘William’?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yes,” she said happily. “Oh, had you not settled on a name before?” she asked, realizing the situation. “I hope it’s all right. She told the doctor his name should be William Ross Sinclair.”

  “It’s fine,” he said, his voice weak.

  The nurse rubbed his arm in a pitiful attempt at comforting him while still remaining peppy.

  “Well, he’s perfectly healthy,” she said. “Congratulations.” And with that, she was gone, scurrying into another room with another patient.

  The siblings awkwardly made their way to the elevator, Wyatt carrying the baby in the car seat and Gabriel taking the bags.

  “She named him William,” Wyatt said, still in shock.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s my middle name,” he said as they boarded the elevator, the doors closing slowly behind them.

  “I know.”

  “Ross was her dad’s name. He died when we were in college. She always said if we ever had a kid, she’d want to name it after him. But, she put my name first.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Don’t you get it?” he asked, a small bit of happiness breaking through the waves of despair. “She never had a boyfriend. He was the other guy! She left me because she was worried I’d hurt him in a schizophrenic fit. She didn’t stop loving me,” he realized, looking down at his child in amazement. “She just loved him more.”