by Tara Brown
Lorelei nods, appearing stricken. “Witches have two bodies. She can live on as the ghost with full powers, even more so than as a human.”
Dorian slams his hand through the wall next to him. “WHY WAS THIS NOT DISCUSSED THE FIRST TIME?”
Marcus walks in front of Lorelei. “Take it easy, Brother.”
Dorian rips his hand from the wall, leaving plaster all over the floor. “Why didn't we talk about this?” His question seethes from his lips.
Lorelei shakes her head, weakly. “I didn't know if a redeeming angel took the soul out, if it would work. I assumed she would go to Heaven as she was. I assumed he made you all this way so we could kill her.”
Dorian looks up at the ceiling, lifting his hands. “WHAT THE HELL DO WE DO WITH THIS?”
I think we all sort of expect Lorri to pop into the room with answers and plans and skills.
But nothing happens.
Lorelei gives me a look. “I think it’s real safe to say that the dark and creepy demon energy that was the real devil and satanic vibe on this planet has been found. Lillith took the magic from the fae and made it ugly with her hate.”
Dorian’s head snaps around. “Ya think?”
Marcus sighs. “Instead of bickering like children, let’s try to remember what we know about the devil.”
Oliver shrugs. “Lorri always worried Jonathan would get his grubby little hands on it. She worried that the darkness would overcome the Earth and kill off all the light.”
I point at the hole it fled from. “I was scared of that cloud the minute it shot from her. Granted, the whole thing was creepy, but the cloud made me feel vulnerable.”
Oliver nods. “It’s pure hate. It’s always been in her, I suppose. I have to imagine it was trapped in there though or she would have used it long ago.”
“And now we’ve freed it from her, made it a weapon she can use.”
Shane turns toward me. “Want to bet that was her evil plan all along? Make it so we kill her and free whatever the hell that was.”
Ari folds her arms across her small chest. “This is just great. It keeps getting worse. There is nothing left to save or fix or do. It’s all a broken hell. I don't know if God wants it fixed or simply demolished. There doesn't seem to be much point to fixing it.”
Dorian groans, “Oh, we’re fixing it. If every one of us dies a terrible death in the process, we are fixing it. Those are the orders. That’s all there is.” He walks to me, winking us to a place I didn't know existed.
It’s the ruins of a castle on the top of a hill. The fields around it are still green and lush. But there isn’t a single thing in sight, beyond grass and a few shrubs. He walks me through the rubble to the rickety stairs. We walk up them, holding hands like lovers who are on a sightseeing tour of Ireland. When we get to the top of the ruins, he sits on a mound of old bricks and rocks. He is beautiful in the way the castle is, ancient and somehow able to withstand the efforts of destruction from the wind and rain. The castle will stand longer than anything else. Even if it is a pile of rocks in the end, it will exist, as he always will.
He doesn't speak. He stares out at the pristine land surrounding us. I sit next to him and try desperately to turn off my mind and refuse the thoughts that want to pry into his mind and see what he is possibly thinking.
We sit in silence, perhaps grieving a little at the defeat we just encountered, and stare out at the world God made.
Finally, after a moment he speaks, “The world isn’t the people, Aimee. I fear this time we are not sent here to save the people.”
I nod, finally understanding the natural detachment he has to humans.
“People are easily made and destroyed. But this is worth so much more and she cannot have it.”
I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, desperate to be half as apathetic as he is. Though I don't imagine I will ever be able to live with so much indifference. He has the added benefit of being the master of stoic silence.
Chapter 15
Why do our miracles always suck?
Ari and I are lying on my bed at Shane’s. We’ve abandoned Marcus’ again, now that Lillith has been freed and killed all at once.
Ari turns her head, glancing at me. “If I tell you something will you promise not to act like a bastard?”
I pull back. “What does that mean, exactly? When do I act like a bastard?”
She cocks an eyebrow. “You always act like a bastard when you hear something you don't want to.”
“Everyone does that.”
She shakes her head. “No. No, they don't.” She winks away and returns with Blake. He gives us both a dirty look, but she doesn't wait for him to complain about the super important thing he was doing before she interrupted. She lifts her baggy shirt, revealing her baby bump. “I’m pregnant.”
My jaw drops. Blake’s lips turn up. “It’s a miracle.”
She points at his face. “Not a bastard.”
I press my lips together, desperate to keep the hundred bad things floating about in my mouth at bay. She points at me. “Just say it. Whatever it is you want to say, just say it.”
I shake my head, squeezing my mouth shut.
She rolls her dark eyes.
Blake reaches forward, touching her belly without permission. I grimace as he runs his hands over it. “How far along?”
She shakes her head. “I don't know. What’s the date?”
We all laugh.
She runs her fingers over it, moving Blake’s hand so it is on the biggest part of the bump.
“It’s a miracle.” He snatches his hand back when her stomach moves, appearing horrified. “It’s like a miracle and Aliens.”
She doesn’t get the reference but I laugh. Her eyes lift to mine and I see her sensing my approval. Considering it was by my hand that she lost the last one, I have no choice but to smile. It is forced and there is a sickening amount of worry inside me.
“So you aren’t going to try to take the baby?”
I shake my head. “We are not in the same situation as last time. You cannot die giving birth and you cannot be killed, except by Lillith. So I don't see how it is anything but a miracle.”
I have a horrid feeling ripping through me and a desperate desire to speak with Lorelei, Dorian, and Oliver.
She beams, looking amazing with her glowing cheeks and huge smile. I never noticed the glow before.
“Have you been eating?” It’s something about us, we don't require food. We eat because we like it.
She bursts, “Starving like a madwoman.”
It seems so wrong. It isn’t even funny.
Blake shrugs. “Seems like a miracle to me. How else does an angel get pregnant from another angel? Only human women should be able to get pregnant, and even then, it’s not like someone would do that on purpose.”
My eyes lift to his. The tone in his voice brings instant curiosity as to what he means.
“You know, because if the angel accidentally got the human pregnant, he would be upset. Because he would have tried really hard not to—”
“What are you talking about?” My insides ache.
“Nothing.” His eyes won’t meet mine.
“Is my sister pregnant?”
He nods and shakes his head at the same time, making it look like he’s going in circles. “It wasn't on purpose. She’s just so—”
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” I drop to my knees as red-hot tears flood my face.
Blake drops with me, shaking his head. “I don't know what to do.”
“How far?” Ari asks with silent tears dripping down her cheeks.
Blake covers his face, sighing into his hands, mumbling through them, “She’s going to give birth soon.”
I slap him hard on the side of the head. Ari grabs me, winking me to the living room. She tosses me at Marcus. “Don't let her leave this room.” She winks away again.
Dorian sees my face as he’s crossing the room. “What is it?”
I don't know
how to say the sentence. Lucas’ eyes meet mine. I see the fear in them. “Ari and Alise are pregnant,” he mutters as if confessing.
Dorian’s head spins around to Lucas. “WHAT?”
Lucas nods slowly. Ben crosses the room, stepping in front of Lucas to protect him.
Marcus grips me but the way his head sinks lets me know exactly what we’re looking at. Dorian’s furious expression scares me. “Explain to me how this happened!”
Ben cocks an eyebrow. “Dude, I’m pretty sure we don't have to explain that to you.”
Dorian ignores his lippy retort, flaring his nostrils. “How did an angel impregnate another angel?”
Lucas shakes his head but doesn't answer. He looks stricken. I feel stricken.
I don't understand how this could happen twice to them. Dorian’s eyes burn with pain when they meet mine. “Your sister?”
I nod.
He slumps, winking away.
We are all lost and upset and silent, until finally Ari winks into the room. She looks savage. “He is devastated. He has spent all his free time trying desperately to find a way to abort the baby. Alise is pumped. She doesn't understand the baby will likely kill her. He’s going to lose the one person he loves. Get your head out of your ass and realize he NEVER would have done this on purpose.”
I wink to the lodge. I haven’t been inside yet. I saw it when it was being built.
Blake is standing outside, looking in. They don't see him and he doesn't see me, but I can see the agony on his face as he watches our families. I wink to his side, at the edge of the yard. “I’m sorry. I should have known you didn't do it on purpose. I know that but I just—”
He shakes his head, not making eye contact with me. “I get it. I’ve sentenced your sister to death. I get it.”
I rip him around to face me. “She is your person in this world. After discovering my person was a jackass, I have no right to criticize anyone else’s person. I understand she is yours. I realize how this must be affecting you.”
He collapses into my arms. “There is nothing to do. There is no science that can cure this. I tried to suck the baby out, but I could taste her in the pull. If the baby comes out, it’s going to kill her.”
My eyes flood with tears. “I am so sorry, Blake.”
He sniffles into my neck. “Me too. I wish I’d listened. I want to go back. I want to fix it. I want to change everything.”
I wipe my face. Nodding toward the door. “Let’s go say hi.”
He seems ready to say no but he wipes his face. Our red-rimmed eyes match, but we walk up to the house anyway. He opens the door and I nearly throw up on the stunning hardwood entryway. Alise comes waddling over, eating a bowl of oatmeal. She smiles in a way I don't think I have ever seen. It’s earnest and sweet. She wraps an arm around him and kisses him with every bit of passion I do Dorian. Blake encircles his arms as best he can. She is massive. She is going to burst at any second, I swear. She’s huge. Her face is chubby and her lips look like they’re pumped full of Botox.
Her silver eyes light up when she sees me behind him. “AIMES!” She hugs me in a way that has never happened before. Not even when I saved her from slavery once. Our parents come running. My dad has a skeptical look in his eyes when he hugs me. He whispers softly when he’s right in my neck, “Is it over?”
I shake my head.
“Are we losing?”
I nod. He’s a smart man. He must see it.
Blake’s mom pulls me from my dad’s embrace. “Aimee, we were so hoping we’d get to see you before it’s Christmas next week.”
My guts burn and I’m flooded with a wall of emotions. There is no closing them off. There is no pretending I don't feel for them. I excuse myself. “I need to use the washroom, if that's all right.”
She holds her arm out at it. I hurry inside, closing the door and sliding down it with a hand against the wood. Noiseless sobs rain from me, flooding my face.
Their faces, Alise’s belly, and the truth of the world’s situation are akin to a knife in my chest.
I can’t breathe.
I’m stuck here in this moment as reality crashes upon me, ripping me open.
I have hidden behind the way my brain doesn't work and the thoughts and time and ages get lost. Everything is relative, until it is reality. My reality, my dose of exactly what is at stake, lies within these walls.
My sister is dying and my best friend is losing the person he loves most. And in that I am going to welcome a Nephilim niece who I must love, and will love, even though she was the death of my sister. And the end of my best friend’s happiness.
And all of that is dependent on our families being able to hold out a little longer. It is highly unlikely they will even survive, including my small niece—a presence I feel even from here in the bathroom. She exists in this world already. I felt her the moment I entered the house.
Blake winks into the bathroom, wrapping himself around me. We hug and cry and pretend everything will work out when we both know there is no way it can.
Again, we wipe our eyes. He winks out, to a different location in the house where they will not see him appear. I open the door, devastated at the sight of my sister. My mother is still the raven-haired beauty, even with the world ending and taking everything beautiful with it. She slinks an arm around my waist and whispers, “We are trying to maintain a positive attitude toward it all. Please try not to cry in front of her.”
I nod. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “I had the same response as you. But I got to have it in the privacy of my room. Your father and I cried for days, just not where she could see. She’s overjoyed at the thought of being a mom. She doesn't see the problems we are all considering.”
“Of course she doesn't. It’s Alise. She doesn't think about anything before doing it.”
My mom presses her lips into my cheek and mutters, “How bad is it out there?”
I turn, completely prepared to tell her what is what, but I catch the sparkle of hope in her eyes. “We’re fighting the good fight.”
She smiles wide. “You and Blake are probably the best workers they have.” She has no idea what I do or why.
I walk into the kitchen, noticing the food on the counters. It’s like an episode of Hoarders. Blake’s mom motions toward the food. “Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you. We ate before we came.”
Blake nods. “Government rations aren’t too bad yet. We’re still keeping up with food.”
I forgot that we were lying about what we eat. I never even thought about saying government rations. He’s had to come up with it all, lying to them for so long.
My dad comes and wraps his arm around my shoulders, leading me to the window. There is no snow, which normally there would be. In fact, it’s muggy and warm instead of cold. The Northwest Coast is not a warm place in the summer.
“How bad is it?”
I sigh and stare into his eyes so he sees my truth. “It is Revelation, Dad. It’s the end of days. The antichrist has been born, so to speak, and the world is coming to a close. There is nothing left but evil and destruction, and humanity is at the brink of extinction.”
His eyes widen, searching mine for even a hint of a joke. Blake offers a subtle nod, having heard everything I just said. Blake gestures toward the hallway. I head there with my father following as my mother chats up Blake’s parents.
Blake looks at me. “You sure?”
I nod. I pull my dad into a bedroom and smile. “Don't scream, okay?”
He agrees but there’s fear on his face. I burst my wings from my back as Blake does his. My father steps back. “Mother trucker.”
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.” He crumples to his knees. “Are you dead?”
&nb
sp; “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?”
“No.” I shake my head as he swallows, gets up, and touches the wings hesitantly. He goes 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, 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 at all. 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 these 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 this.”
I guess Marcus’ compulsion has him reacting way too calmly. Or he’s hit his head recently. He continues, “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.”