Divine Temptation

by Nicki Elson

  “I was making progress with some God-fearing women in the area—my calling card at the garden proved quite productive, and the priest made himself useful with his attempts to deflect unwanted attention. It was nice of you to visit, by the way.” A smile slid across his lips before he pouted. “Only once? And here I was becoming so smitten with you—all your struggle to do good while you found ways to bend even the most clearly delineated of church rules. I advised your trusted pastor’s warning to stay away from the urn. It was seemingly innocent enough advice, though I’d hoped that for you it would prove a temptation. But that didn’t work. So I set my minion on legs to get to you and others showing promise.

  “A good plan, but as the adage goes, if you want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself. He nearly had you on that last, valiant attempt though. Who knew you’d grab onto that blasted crucifix at the last minute? I think that’s when I decided I had to have you, rather than any of the others.

  “Imagine my delight when Father Flambé over there revealed that you’d fallen for an angel. An angel!” He opened his mouth wide in a laugh. “You really are too much. He was wrong in thinking I was the angel, but he was right to know that somehow this was my ticket in. After correcting his attempt to derail me, I had to fully impress upon my priestly servant that I was in charge, resulting in the debacle with the altar candle. I hadn’t counted on the demon hunter walking in and freeing my servant from my grip. But even that worked in my favor in the form of your growing mistrust of the monsignor and, therefore, the church.

  “I had a limited window in which to work before you, too, spoiled. So I threw in a field fire to kick up the tension in your household and bind the angel to you because of the increased threat. I knew that the combination of stretched nerves and having the object of your temptation so close at all hours would eventually pique your desire, leading you to at last drive him far enough away to allow me an opportunity. All I had to do was wait. You came closer to succeeding with him than I’d expected, I’ll give you that. But he did reject you and fled far from his temptress, just as I’d predicted.”

  He moved the side of his face to within an inch of Maggie’s. “And you know what happened next.” He couldn’t touch her, but his hot breath penetrated the buffer, rolling across her cheek. “Taking you was so much more satisfying than I ever expected. Your surprised gasps. Your eager participation. There was even an innocence to your screams of ecstasy.”

  Maggie stiffened. “Those screams weren’t meant for you.”

  Aedan jerked his face away from hers. “Oh yes, that’s right—they were for the angel. The one who rejected you. Repeatedly.”

  “Because he’s good!”

  The demon frowned. “Rejection equals goodness? Well then, glad I chose this side. Let’s look at your good life recently, shall we?” He held up a finger for each rejection he ticked off. “Besides the angel and all his brethren, there was your husband, then the fabulous Raymond—I only brought the girl around; I didn’t make him choose her. Then who do we have…ah yes, your BFF Sharon. And how are things going with your daughter these days? She seems more than eager to trade in her old mommy for the newer model. Let’s not forget that the good, holy monsignor was going to kill you—rejection doesn’t get more poignant than that.”

  He wiggled his full hand of fingers. “And while all these people rejected you, who was the only one who wanted you? Who pursued you through all the blockades you put up? It was me, Maggie. And I still want you and am here begging you to accept me the way I’ve accepted you. I celebrate everything about you, including this push and pull between good and evil. Annoying as it is, I find your persistent struggle irresistible. I will want you for all eternity for exactly who you are.”

  Maggie stared at him, dumb struck, as he made his declaration. It was true. How many times had she been rejected by others while he steadfastly looked after her?

  “He’s lying,” a voice said out of nowhere. Maggie’s head twitched toward Father Tom, who stood straight with his attention riveted on her through the flames, but the voice had been too low—barely above a whisper—for it to have come from him, and there was no reprimand from Aedan.

  “I don’t understand something,” she said. “One of the angels who came to my room to take Evan away said he had to prepare for what I was to bring into this world. He knew it was your child—why didn’t he try to kill me like Sarto did?”

  “Angels can’t kill humans. It’s against the rules. Believe me, your darling Evan would certainly have strangled you himself if it were possible.”

  “You’re an angel,” she said with an accusing bite.

  “I make my own rules, sweetie.”

  Her lips curled. The bond between them seemed to be getting stronger, his influence over her growing, and she sensed that he enjoyed this back and forth. What she was doing now was more like flirting than defiance. “But if you can’t touch me, you can’t kill me.”

  “Nor do I want to.” His charcoal eyes held hers.

  “Of course not. Precious cargo.” Her hand instinctively stroked the section of wool that covered her ever-boiling abdomen.

  His gaze snapped downward and followed her hand longingly. “Will you deny me the right to caress the worthy and beautiful body in which my son resides?”

  Maggie watched him and asked coyly, “How are you so sure it’s a boy?”

  He lifted his eyes to hers, and there was a new tenderness there. He didn’t answer, merely stared into her reluctantly receptive gaze. The moment felt as if it could be between a genuinely loving husband and wife expecting their first child.

  “What if my answer is no?” she asked, more softly than she’d intended.

  “The child will be born, regardless. But it will be much easier to keep both of you safe if you accept my protection. I want to take care of you, Maggie. You’ve never really belonged with them. None of them knew how to properly care for you—you’ve been taking care of yourself for so long. You must be tired. Let me take care of you now. Please. It’s what I want more than anything.”

  He was saying things to her that no one else ever had. Things that she now understood she’d been yearning to hear. Even while she knew he must be lying, she was no longer sure she’d refuse him. After all, what was left for her outside of him? He’d at least keep her safe from the world that wanted to cast her out. When the angel had said he couldn’t help her, she’d taken that to mean she wasn’t welcome in Heaven either, and feared she never would be, after this. So why should she refuse the only being reaching out to her?

  Aedan watched her internal deliberation and nodded in understanding. “That’s right. They don’t want you. You’ve strayed from their ways and teachings too much, sullied your soul with sin.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “I’ll tell you something I shouldn’t—I only get one shot at this. One successful fertilization. I believe in you enough, Maggie, that I put all my trust in you. You’ll be my only queen for all eternity.”

  Father Tom’s voice rang out. “The weak must seek his shelter at all times and moments. The truly strong have stepped into the fire, saturated themselves in it, and still tear themselves away to walk toward the light—it’s only someone as strong as this who can defeat him.”

  Aedan glared at the priest, and the flames tightened their circle. At first Father Tom cowered, but then he stood straight, and the flames fell to a low, blue shimmer at the ground. The priest’s features had gone slack, and in the odd lighting his eyes seemed to glow. When he spoke, his voice was clear and resounding. It obviously wasn’t his. “He didn’t choose you, Maggie. I did.”

  The flames snapped back up to full height, and through them, Maggie saw Father Tom frantically glancing around, bewildered. He didn’t have long to question what had just happened—Aedan clutched the forked weapon he’d laid against a nearby tree and blasted it at the priest, catching him in the chest and depositing him directly into the flames. Thomas’ howls went up with the snapping sparks, and Maggie ha
d the urge to pray for his immortal soul as she watched his horrendous struggle, but she couldn’t. Not in her state of limbo. Eventually the torment ended, and Father Tom’s charred body was at last free from the pain of this world.

  “How many more have to die before you give yourself to me?” Aedan asked.

  “How many more will die if I do?”

  “Look, sweetheart, you can cut the good girl act. You chose your side; I won. We can both win, if you’ll just stop dicking around!”

  She flinched, and his hand went immediately to cradle her face, but he stopped just shy of his goal. “I’m sorry,” he cooed. “I’m so sorry. I lose patience easily. You can help me with that when we’re together. But I don’t have time for patience right now—pink will be showing in the horizon soon, which means joggers and workers in the county building just beyond those trees. I’d rather avoid any more unnecessary bloodshed. You’ll see that I’m not nearly as bad a guy as they make me out to be.”

  She backed away. She didn’t want this, it was so clear to her now, but she didn’t know what to do, so she mindlessly continued taking steps backward, away from him, away from the influence that had been clouding her mind.

  He followed. “This is really just a formality. Face it—you’ve already accepted me. You can say you didn’t know who it was, but that’s not true. A small part of you knew the truth, but you liked the feel of me on you and in you, so you pretended it was someone else. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

  She’d stumbled through the forest and then moved into an open expanse, jerking around to find that she was directly behind the county building. Her mind clicked to the angel stone she’d visited there, and she instinctively ran to it, slipping on the frosty grass along the way but keeping her balance until she reached the circular patio. Turning back toward the forest, she expected to see Aeden casually striding across the lawn since she’d heard no heavy footfalls directly behind her, but he already stood at the edge of the pavers.

  “I don’t accept,” she said. “I know I’ve probably closed the door on my chances for an afterlife anywhere else, but that doesn’t mean I’ll make things easy for you. Others will come for me! And this time I won’t fight when…they try to…kill me…” Her voice became small and died away when the trees along the perimeter of the forest seemed to move. The shadows grew in bulk and emerged from the tree line. Horned demons. She gasped and looked back to Aedan, who’d shed his human form. Red eyes glared at her from a blackened, spiked head as he tensed his clawed fingers. His inhuman voice was a shrill, hideous hiss. “Well, my dear, I hardly promised to make things easy for you either.”

  Invisible tugs pulled at her arms and legs, edging her forward. She forced a step back and stood squarely on the angel medallion. The tugging stopped, but she felt nips pinching through her coat and at her hair. The demons crouched and stepped closer, and the nips jabbed at her in greater frequency as a growing roar, like rushing wind, swirled inches away. But she wasn’t pulled away from the stone; it seemed to be protecting her from the demons’ summoning powers.

  Aedan reverted to his human form. “It didn’t have to be like this,” he said, his voice again smooth and enticing. “It still doesn’t. I can make all these horrible creatures disappear with a snap of my fingers, and you and I can carry on as we wish.” Maggie stood resolute. “Or,” he continued, “you’ve got these guys as your babysitters for the rest of your human life.”

  As the creatures crept closer, their force became stronger. Maggie clamped her eyes shut, and even though she expected no answer, she prayed. She asked forgiveness for her willful disobedience and for mercy to be shown to the world.

  “Lean back. Rest in him.”

  This time she realized the voice had come from within. And she wanted to trust it. But leaning back would mean moving away from the medallion and getting swept up in the demons’ cyclone. It would mean relinquishing her desire to cling to the stone’s protection and instead trust this unseen voice. It would mean freedom. She could give up her struggle to choose and instead leave her fate in God’s hands.

  Clamping her eyes shut, she inhaled and leaned back. Immediately, the swirl of air surrounding the medallion caught her up, and high-pitched whooping erupted from the lawn. Despite her fear, Maggie relaxed her muscles, accepting that whatever happened to her would be the Lord’s will. She wasn’t lifted or brought closer to the celebrating demons. Her feet held fast to the stone.

  The burning in her abdomen boiled to an unbearable heat. All at once, the triumphant whoops went silent and Aedan let out a wretched cry. Maggie screamed as scorching pain ripped through her, but kept her eyes closed and lifted her arms over her head, giving glory to her Heavenly Father.

  And then all went silent.

  Chapter 24

  SOMETHING NEARBY BEEPED. The mechanical noise was the only thing Maggie could focus on. Everything else remained in a dark haze, her thoughts disconnected. During her more lucid moments, she became frustrated with this state of helplessness. But eventually, the internal voice that had spoken to her in the forest returned, encouraging her to relent on her tightened grip, to trust the power she’d been praying to most of her life, to surrender to a deep sleep.

  Her next awareness came in the form of a familiar blend of scents that she struggled to place. Floral and musk. Freesia and…Carl. Her heavy eyelids lifted to see his profile as he stood by the window, next to a vase overflowing with a vibrant garden of stems and petals. Even from that angle, his face looked haggard, with creases of worry carved into his forehead and around his mouth. She let her eyes close again, and the next time she opened them, he was gone.

  “Hey, nice of you to join us,” a young woman in scrubs said, her dimples going deep with her wide smile.

  Maggie’s return to consciousness brought with it ice chips and a tray of hospital food, lots of questions from the doctor and nurses about how she was feeling, and then more questions from a detective who was attempting to piece together what had happened in the woods that night. Her answers were honest; she remembered very little. Only that she’d been frightened, she wasn’t sure why, and she’d gone to see Father Tom. At the edges of her mind, she recalled flames and a glimpse of the enraged monsignor. After that there were creatures and sensations that could only have been in her dreams. All of it felt like a dream.

  “Can’t Father Tom tell you what was real and what wasn’t?” Maggie asked.

  The detective frowned and glanced toward the nurse. “Does she have any family here or friends that can talk to her?”

  “Her ex-husband’s been here for most of the time since she was brought in yesterday morning. He had to leave for a few hours but wanted us to call when she woke, so he’ll probably be back soon.”

  “What do you mean ‘talk to her’?” Maggie pushed herself up to sit, but was silenced by a sharp jab in her abdomen. Settling back into her pillow, she attempted to manage the pain with deep breaths—spurring the recall of another memory. Something horrible had happened, but as soon as her mind grasped onto a sliver of detail, it slipped away. Tilting her head to glare at the detective, she asked, “What happened out there?”

  “The investigation isn’t complete, but as best we can tell, you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He closed his notebook and left, and the nurse encouraged Maggie to relax, giving her something for her pain.

  Maggie slipped back into a light sleep, and was roused from her nap by Carl gently rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.

  “Nice to see those eyes again,” he said, the gentleness in his deep voice cascading over her.

  “Where’s Father Tom? Why won’t anyone tell me anything?” Her drowsy eyes swept around the bright room, and she saw that she and Carl were alone.

  He reached with his free arm to slide a chair over and sat in it, taking her closest hand into both of his and leaning his elbows on the mattress so he could press his lips to one of her knuckles and then onto the next. “Can you let me en
joy having you back first? Just for a moment?”

  His blue eyes were soft, almost like liquid, and Maggie’s hand tightened inside his. “Please?” she whispered. “Tell me.”

  “He’s gone, Mags. The night you went to see him, he got caught up in some sort of satanic ritual. Victimized. Burned.”

  “Burned?” The priest’s screeching rang through her memory. “Why? Why!”

  “Shh,” Carl murmured. “If this going to upset you—”

  “Upset me? Of course this is going to upset me!” She tried to wrench her hand from Carl’s grip so she could push herself up, but he held fast, and when a nurse appeared in the doorway, he nodded her off.

  “If you want me to tell you the rest, you’ve got to promise you’ll remain calm.”

  “Fine.” She huffed, quelling her temper but quickly realizing that she preferred rage to her swelling sadness. “He’s dead?”

  “Yes. And the monsignor too. They actually think that’s why the cretins came here. Turns out the monsignor has a background in dealing with the occult.”

  Maggie stayed silent. This piece of information was something she knew. Because of the…demon. Remnants of her memory began to take shape. She clamped her eyelids shut, and Carl joined her in silence for several moments before speaking again, his tone cautious and his voice low.

  “There’s something I haven’t informed anyone else of yet,” he said. “I wanted to speak to you about it first. When I called you Sunday, the night this all happened, you said you’d had a, eh, guest. Was that true? Did he have anything at all to do with this?”

  She creased her forehead and kept her eyes resolutely closed as she recalled the conversation. Suddenly, the pieces fit together and she remembered everything. But how could she even begin to explain any of it to Carl? She needed Evan.