by S. L. Naeole
My thoughts drifted on their own to my son and I sighed. If only we could choose their destinies before we gave birth to them, rather than having their destinies be laid out before they are even a thought in our minds.
We have too few choices as it is, and those we take for ourselves always end up hurting the innocent.
The burn in my heart was almost unbearable. How humans tolerated it with so much despair in their lives was, to me, a miracle in itself if I could barely keep the signs of it to myself. Especially our children.
Ameila placed her son on the straw mattress, her hand gently covering his head to shield his thoughts from what she was about to say.
“A parent, whether human or divine, will always hurt their children; especially during acts which are best for them. There is nothing we can do to prevent that once we choose to have them; we choose to bring them into a world where even amongst their own kind they will be vilified for their differences.”
“And they will be the stronger for it,” I said stiffly.
“You can never know that for certain. What we would do is not what our children would do. You know this better than anyone.”
My mouth stilled at her words. She was correct, her wisdom never failing.
“I did not mean to offend you, my friend. But…you know that one day our children will face the consequences of their births, and the choices that we would have them make may very well be the choices they choose not to.”
We have many years of planning left to ensure that they do.
“Yes, but we also have the same amount of years to ensure that they don’t.”
Have you changed your mind then?
Ameila’s smile, always serene, always beautiful, appeared on her lovely face as she shook her head. “After speaking with my mother, and seeing the joy brought to my son’s life, I cannot want anything else.”
Even though they will hate us when they learn of the truth?
She paused, sadness crossing over her face for a brief moment before her smile returned. “Yes.”
Then we proceed as planned.
***
“Are you sure about this?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“Okay then. I’ll go and put the bag in the car.”
I reached for his hand, grabbing it firmly. “I love you, James. You are going to make a great father.”
His eyes lit up at my words, his smile spreading so widely I could not help but do the same despite the pain in my belly.
“And I love you. Thank you for allowing me to be a father to our child,” he said in return. “Now let me go put that bag in the car, otherwise I’ll forget and then you’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
“That is true,” I laughed before grimacing as a rivulet of pain shot from my abdomen to my leg.
This was far different than the last birth I’d experienced. There had only been one moment of pain, a signal that it was time to release Samael to the world and then it was done: my womb split to allow his exit and its return to normal, as though he’d never spent even an hour within me.
But with my Grace, every breath I took felt like I had just told an inexcusable lie. I tried to stand, a need to not feel so helpless taking hold, but lightning shot through me and I fell. This human body I had accepted broke too easily against the glass coffee table that stood in my way.
My wrist met glass, the two joining to release my human blood.
“Abby? Oh God, why did you move? That’s it; I’m calling for an ambulance,” James cried out. He ran to the kitchen, my bag still in his hand, his voice panicked as he fumbled with the small buttons that lined the phone’s face.
My poor James; worried over nothing. It wasn’t time yet. We still had many years to go before that day came.
“Wrap it up? O-okay!”
He was back at my side, tearing off a piece of his shirt to tie my wrist with. “I’ve gotta wrap up the cut.”
“And then what?” I asked calmly, watching the bright red liquid pump out of my arm.
“And then—oh, I don’t know!”
He dropped my hand and hurried back to the phone, his eyes showing fear and panic. “What do I do after it’s wrapped up?” he asked hurriedly into the phone.
He nodded, looking at me the entire time. “Uh-huh. And then what? But she’s pregnant—um…forty-one weeks. Yeah…yeah. Is she in labor? Yes!”
While he nervously chattered, I grabbed the torn piece of shirt and did my best to tie off my wrist and stop the bleeding. By now, the front of my dress was soaked with blood, and I could feel a strange lightness in my head.
Inside me I felt a fluttering. “Shh, my little love,” I whispered to my belly. “Now is not the time to panic.”
But my daughter wasn’t about to listen. She was going to be as defiant and as stubborn as I was, and I knew that I didn’t want her any other way. “Okay, fine. Do what you want, but promise me you won’t make this hard on your father.”
A sharp, searing pain crossed over the tightening in my belly in response, and I grabbed at it, sensing the heat that radiated from it. “This is not how you keep from worrying your father,” I whispered as I bit back a groan.
“The ambulance is coming, honey!” James rushed, breathless from his concern and his explanation to the operator. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“That’s…good,” I breathed.
“Abby? Ab…”
James’ voice grew faint. I saw strange dots…
***
“Mommy’s asleep. You wore her out. I suggest you not cry any more so that she can sleep a bit longer.”
I opened my eyes and saw them, the two of them, rocking in a wooden chair beside the bed. Father and daughter, cuddled up together, made for the most peaceful image I’d seen in a long time. It was one that gave me hope.
“Go back to sleep, Abby. I’ve got her.”
“I can sleep when I’m dead. I want to hold her,” I argued before stopping, my breath catching in my throat with a sudden worry. “Is she alright? Is something wrong with her?”
“Nothing is wrong,” James said with a soft laugh. “She’s perfect. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth, ten toes, and eleven fingers.”
“Eleven?” I choked, reaching for the tiny pink bundle and pulling open the blankets to inspect my daughter’s small hands, counting quickly; one, two…
“I’m joking, Abby! She’s fine. She’s perfect, like I said!”
I blinked as I saw that each tiny hand bore five little fingers. “She is perfect,” I breathed with relief. “When…when did she come?”
“Yesterday. You fainted before the ambulance arrived and I…I panicked. I think I might have angered the paramedics and some of the doctors in the emergency room.”
“Well,” I chuckled, “hopefully we won’t have to revisit that emergency room for a while so that they forget who you are. Did they have any trouble…getting her out?”
“No. There were no problems, no complications. Aside from you not being able to see it, everything went exactly as it should have. She came out healthy; she cried and I cried…I think even the doctor who hates me cried.”
My eyes welled up. “So she’s all right?”
“Yes.”
I looked back down at our daughter, at her closed eyes and her pursed lips, full and pink, and I felt my heart swell. And, despite reassurances otherwise, I inspected my child, looking for any sign that something was wrong or different.
All I found was the hospital tag that was attached to her ankle, with names and numbers that labeled her as mine. Against my wrist was a matching band. It was the first, real piece of confirmation that she was, indeed, mine.
It was the only confirmation I would get when I remembered too late that I could not hear the thoughts in her head. We had shared a bond while she was within me, but it was one that I knew existed between all pregnant women and their children and nothing unique to me. But I had to admit that I had hoped that upon her
birth, we would be able to speak like an angel mother and child would.
But you’re not an angel any longer, I reminded myself.
“Is something wrong?”
I swaddled the baby in the pink blanket once more and shook my head. “Nothing is wrong. Grace is everything I imagined she would be and more.”
“So you’ve decided for certain that her name is Grace?”
I nodded. “This world will be a better place because of her.”
“This world is a better place because of her mother.”
“Maybe once, a long time ago, that was true. Now they have her.”
“Well, I have you both, and my world is perfect, so I suppose you’re right. Hey, how’s your wrist? They wrapped it up before they put you in the ambulance but I don’t recall them checking it since.”
“That’s not important right now,” I said with a shrug, handing Grace to him quickly. “Here. I think I’ll take your advice and get some rest while I can.”
“Okay.”
Even without the pain that came with lying, I still felt the sting of guilt as I hid my hand beneath my pillow. And yet I still reasoned with myself that it was all for the best.
***
You do not understand what you are risking, Avi.
“My name is Abby, now; I stopped being Avi years ago. And I understand fully what I am risking, but it is a risk I have to take.”
It’s Valentine’s Day. Only a few hours left.
What if she doesn’t make it out of the car? What if she stops you from dying before she can stop herself?
“That won’t happen. You won’t let it.”
You seem so sure of that. Why should I help her; or you for that matter?
“Because you know that this was how it is meant to be. You’ve seen it yourself. And because you love us.”
Gabriel’s face softened, his eyes sparkling in the remnants of night before the sun broached the horizon. That I do. It is hard to pretend otherwise, but I do because I know to betray that would put you and everything that you have planned in jeopardy.
“Do the others know? Do they suspect anything?”
They only know that I come to bid a former pupil farewell. I have kept my resentment of you below excessive. I cannot pretend to hate you, but I can pretend successfully to despise your decisions.
“And my child.”
Yes, and Grace. I dread the day when I must make her believe it, too. She will never know the truth about me.
I put my hands on either side of his face and held them there. It had been a long while since I could force him to do what I wanted, but today I knew that whatever I wanted, he would do.
“She will know the truth about you, Gabriel. I will make sure of that.”
Yes, but will she know why you’ve done all of this? Or will she only live with the lie we will tell her?
I heard some stirring upstairs and quieted my words. She will learn the truth eventually: that the apocalypse that she is to be blamed for had already begun the moment Uriel warned Noah of the flood, and that the only way to stop it is to destroy the four who started it-
Four?
Yes…I will be gone by then, remember?
I forgot. I apologize.
Do not apologize to me, Gabriel. I am complicit in this as much as anyone. The killing that I did—the deaths that I caused covered this world in just as much evil as Raphael and Uriel’s lies did; but she cannot know any of this until after she’s made her choice. She cannot know what we’ve done. She must choose this life and she must do so out of love.
And what if she does not die the way she is meant to? What if Ameila’s son does not return and she is destroyed by your son?
A cloud of darkness hovered over my eyes as the doubt that I had once possessed returned. Then she will be a part of the destruction of this world and we will have failed. But I do not believe that will happen; Ameila vowed that she would return. Grace and N’Uriel are destined to be together; night and day, life and death. It is more than we both had hoped for.
My only concern is that N’Uriel will falter. Whether by his own hand or by Ameila’s soft heart, the chance that one of them will stop Grace from doing what she must is great. It is why, despite my friendship with Ameila, I’ve put all of my faith in you and Grace. She will be the one to succeed.
And if she doesn’t?
I turned my head to look at him. “Then you must make sure that she does. Whatever it takes. Don’t let the choice be taken from her, Gabriel—I raised her as a human child to believe in human choices and free will. She must be allowed to make her own decision.”
Gabriel’s hand came up to cover mine, his fatherly concern plain. Have you considered that maybe, just maybe she will simply die? That she has been raised as a human child because she is, in fact, human?
My head tossed from side to side in disagreement. I pulled my hands away and turned them over, my wrists pointing up for the both of us to see. Before she was born, I fell on a glass table, shattering it. I cut myself so badly in that fall that I fainted from the blood loss. When I awoke, the wound was gone.
And you believe that Grace did this while still inside you?
I nodded. She was fighting for her survival as much as she was mine. The light within her protects her, even when her mind fights against it. When her mortal body is finally gone and she has accepted fully what she is, she will have the ability to do far more than heal a laceration.
I believe you. His thoughts covered my mind, comforting it with his faith.
My heart grew heavy when I heard more than just stirring upstairs. James is awake. I have this one last morning with him before it is all over. I don’t know how I will be able to tell him goodbye when he leaves for work.
Gabriel’s smile grew somber. You will tell him the same way you told me, and you will do it with love. Thank you for allowing me this time with you. Thank you for giving me your last night
Thank you for being my guide, my mentor, and the father I always needed. We shall see each other soon.
We shall, Avi. We shall.
GRACE OF DAY
My eyes opened.
The world had not changed. It had not fallen apart. It had not crumbled.
I was almost disappointed, but it is hard to find disappointment when you’re lying in the arms of the person whose face was clear of any darkness.
“Grace?”
“Dear God, is she alive?”
“She’s breathing. She’s breathing!”
“Grace, can you hear me? Love, can you hear my voice?”
Yes.
“She’s alive!” Robert cried out with joy, his body crushing me against him in an embrace that neither felt like too much or not enough. Being able to breathe him in, hear is voice, was heavenly.
“Impossible!”
Not impossible.
Dozens of hands suddenly fought for control of my body—I felt them and the desperation that bled from beneath dirty fingernails and skin. I felt the air’s layers of crisp chilliness and suffocating heat. There were dozens—no—hundreds of creatures breathing around me, each exhalation one of anticipation laced fear or hope. The news that I had died, and that Robert had killed me, had traveled as quickly as a thought could.
Those thoughts were in my head, all of them, clashing with despair and joy from one mind to the next. And now, those thoughts were joined by confusion, elation, disappointment, and most importantly…fear.
They knew, just as I was beginning to realize, that a change was taking place within me.
“Let her go!” Stacy shouted. “Dammit, let her go you creeps!”
I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by several grunts.
“Holy crap, what’s she doing?”
“She’s…floating!” Robert exclaimed in awe.
“What the hell?” Graham uttered in disbelief. “Grace, if you can hear me, what-the-hell?”
It felt like the air was pushing up beneath me, like hands lifting me
towards something that had always been out of reach. My skin was ultra-sensitive to this change and it prickled.
“Make her stop,” I heard Uriel shout.
“I can’t!” Raphael cried in frustration.
“We must all try together. Michael, Gabriel—help us stop her!”
“We will not,” Michael’s voice said firmly. “We will let this run its course, as we let you run yours.”
Through their argument, I could hear a humming. It vibrated through me, through my veins. Warmth began to chase this humming beneath my skin until it felt like every cell in my body was running to catch up. Golden blips of light flashed in my eyes like internal fireworks, each one growing bigger and brighter and more ferocious.
The humming grew louder as well, and I realized that it and the vibrations it caused were coming from my heart. It was racing. But it wasn’t because it was about to give in. It was, instead, growing stronger.
“You knew about this, didn’t you?” I heard Raphael ask accusingly. “All of you knew! I’ll kill you for this!”
Without even thinking it my body righted itself, my eyes finding Raphael as he lunged towards Robert.
“You will not,” I snarled, my voice shocking him so greatly that he stopped in mid-air; his hands held out like claws, his face twisted with malice.
“What will you do to stop me? Whine me to death? Throw yourself in front of me?” Raphael gloated.
I laughed. “What is there to stop? You cannot kill anyone, remember? It is why my mom was created—because you could not do it. It is why you have others do it for you, others whose call it is to obey you because you have no calling.”
Despite him being unable to do so, I watched Raphael’s face pale. “How do you know this? Who told you?”
I held up my left hand and wiggled my fingers. “My mother did.”
Raphael’s eyes widened and I took advantage of his shocked state. “You’re weak; you have no purpose anymore. None of you do. Despite your position as the first four, you have no real power. You’ve been replaced; over and over again.”
From behind me I heard Uriel chuckle. He floated in front of me, blocking my view of Raphael. “No real power? If we have no power than why has humanity feared us for so long?”