Fate

by Nadine Nightingale

  “Dada.” He smiles at me. “Dada.”

  I didn’t know a heart could burst with pride and drown in sadness at the same time. But when he looks at me like this—like I’m his hero, his everything—I feel joy and failure at the same time. He’ll grow up without a mom who gave up everything for him and still thought it wasn’t enough. Without an aunt, a woman who raised him like her own, and died protecting him.

  His tiny hand reaches for my cheek. “Dada.”

  I lean in, embracing his touch. “You’re going to be okay,” I promise him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  I find a pinch of sadness in his gaze. “Mamama,” he mutters, pointing ahead.

  My eyes are wet, my heart barely able to continue its rhythm. This boy lost more in one night than some folks in a lifetime. “I’ll take you to her,” I whisper, hugging him tighter.

  Jesse’s voice wafts through the old trees. “Alex?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, hoping the wind carries my reply.

  He stands by the edge of the woods, next to Amelia, and Mrs. Lacroix. The closer we get the more dread I spot on their faces. I don’t blame them. Constantin carries a body after all.

  “Melinda?” Mrs. Lacroix gasps, clutching her hand over her mouth.

  B runs into her mom’s arms, sobbing like a toddler. “They’re both gone,” she repeats over and over. “I can’t believe their both gone, Mom.”

  Mrs. Lacroix runs her hand over B’s curls. “It’s okay, baby girl. When the time comes, we’ll meet them again.” The mother of all mambas sounds so confident even I believe her.

  “What happened to your hand?” Amelia asks.

  I look down, seeing the burned flesh for the first time. It’s probably from when I pulled B out of that hole. “It’s nothing,” I assure her, not feeling the pain.

  She slams her hands on her hips, cocking a brow in good old Amelia-style. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me, Alexander.”

  Part of me wants to reassure her I really am fine, but there’s a question weighing on my soul. One I need an answer to right away. “Did you know?”

  She squints. “Did I know what?”

  I smile at Leandro. He fiddles with the buttons of my flannel shirt, looking calm and happy. “Did you know what Draco, Torres, and the Malleus dicks had planned?”

  Shock widens Amelia’s eyes. “You think I wanted”—she eyeballs my burned hand—“this?” She shakes her head. “It’s no secret I was never a fan of your choices. But I would never hurt another hunter or”—she gazes at Leandro—“a child.”

  The Amelia I remember wouldn’t. But how well do you truly know someone? Carter, a guy I trusted with my life, went behind my back inviting the Malleus bastards. Bay played us all to a point where I trusted him to protect Leandro. And Pony-Boy, the douche I hated because he had what I wanted, turned out to be the First Knight of Hell. So yeah. I don’t believe Amelia was in on Draco’s mad plan, but can I be sure? Nope.

  Mrs. Lacroix nudges me. “Listen to your heart, Alex.” She smiles at Amelia. “What does it tell you?”

  My heart? It ain’t gonna tell me shit. It’s dying with pain and breathing with joy, mourning our losses and celebrating what I gained. My heart is as broken and whole as I am.

  B’s mom gently pats my shoulder. “You know you can trust her,” she whispers. “Deep down you’ve always known. Or why would you have taken Amanda to her B&B?”

  She has a point. Despite Amelia’s stand on witches, I took Manda there. Why? Because I was certain she wouldn’t harm her, for my sake. Why would she hurt my son then?

  She wouldn’t. “I had to ask,” I say.

  Amelia nods. “I know.”

  Jesse scans the survivors. “Hey, where’s Bay?”

  “Long story,” B replies, a major frown on her face.

  Leandro extends his small hands toward the meadow. “Mamama.” He looks up at me. “Ma…Ma…Ma.”

  I draw a pained, fiery breath. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” B catches my jacket. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  Taking a child to see his dead mother? Probably not. “I owe him that much.”

  “Mamama,” he goes again, struggling to get down from my arms.

  Raphael’s hand is on B’s shoulder. “Let them go.”

  Crossing the battlefield where we fought alongside our enemies for a world that’s less than perfect, I tug Leandro’s face against my chest, shielding him from the ugly sight of death.

  Manda still lies there in a pool of blood, untouched. Her face too pale, her hair too tame, and her skin like leather, lacking the breathtaking glow. Yet even in death, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

  Hunkering down next to her, I place our son in my lap. “Mama,” he says, reaching for her.

  Men might not cry. But fathers do. They sob for the future their child will never have, the joy that was taken from them, the pain it’ll cause them for many years to come. “She loved you,” I say, holding him tighter than I should. “She loved you more than she loved anything else in this world.” Even her own life.

  “Mama,” he says once more, voice thick and cranky.

  “Yeah.” I caress Manda’s icy cheeks. “She’s your mama, always will be.” And something tells me even death can’t keep her from looking out for our boy.

  “I promise you,” I say, squeezing her stiff hand. “He’s going to grow up knowing how much you loved him, how much I love him.”

  Somewhere, deep inside, I pray she yanks her eyes open and says, “I know, Alex. We’ll make sure he’s loved, together.” But the dead don’t speak. At least, not to me, they don’t.

  The longer I look at her lifeless body, the more pressure builds in my core. Every bone in my body aches for her touch. Every fiber in my soul mourns her loss. Hell, I’d do just about anything to get her to call me jerk-face again, to hear her come back at me with some smart-ass remark that’ll make my damn blood boil. I’d do anything for one last smile—a kiss.

  Leandro gasps for air. I’m all too familiar with the pained look on his face. Seen it over and over in his mom’s eyes. The boy inherited Manda’s curse. He feels what I feel—excruciating pain.

  For his sake, I focus on the good times we had. I remember the many nights we sat in my car waiting on Jesse, listening to music and arguing about the best bands. I see the fire in her eyes the day I pushed her against that wall and kissed her like a starving man. I feel her hands running down my back as I loved her for the last time.

  Holding our son with one hand, I use the other to brush a loose strand out of her cold face. “I love you, Manda. I loved you before I even met you.” Back then, I didn’t know what that weird tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach was when I heard of the fearless witch from Salem, the one who put a no-more-hunting-or-wake-butt-naked-in-the-street curse on one of us. I couldn’t decipher the anticipation building inside me as I thought about meeting her one day. I figured it was the thrill of the kill that made my heart beat faster. But it was love. A love that grew even when its seeds were doomed to wither. A love that was stronger than the fate of a hunter. “You were everything I didn’t know I needed, and I swear to you, I will make sure our son knows every little thing about you.”

  I’m ready to kiss her goodbye when Leandro rocks back and forth in my lap. “Mamama,” he says over and over, gawking ahead.

  For a split second, I allow myself to hope. Manda cured a zombie. If anyone could find a way back from the dead, it’s her. But it’s not her I see when I follow my son’s gaze.

  A larger-than-life shadow floats toward us. I recognize the creepy top hat right away. Baron Samedi—the reaper Manda summoned to free Isobelle from purgatory.

  What the fuck is he doing here?

  Chapter 57

  “Alexander.” Samedi stops inches in front of Manda’s body, raising his hat. “As predicted, we meet again.”

  Terror washes over me. Why is he here? Manda’s soul is already gone. Is he her
e for someone else? I pull Leandro closer. “What do you want?”

  Samedi reaches for a cigar, lighting it up. “I’m on the job.”

  I’m not in the mood for games. “Care to elaborate?”

  He takes a deep drag. “My services are requested.”

  We didn’t summon a reaper. At least, I don’t think we did. “By whom?”

  “By me,” a husky, imperious voice answers, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

  Whoever that is has some serious juice. So much so, the hunter inside me roars to life. “Stay right there,” I scream at the obscured figure by the edge of the woods.

  “Careful.” Samedi grins. “You shouldn’t piss him off. I clocked out and I’d hate to cut my free time short for you.”

  The gang gathers around me. “Who’s that?” JJ asks, ready to fight.

  The figure moves into the light. Dressed in a suit that costs more than my car, he steps over Pony-Boy’s ashes. “I’m known by many names,” he replies, smiling sheepishly. “The one you’re most familiar with is—”

  “Lucifer.” Demon-Boy bows low, almost kissing the damn soil.

  “Lucifer?” JJ rolls her eyes. “The ruler of hell wears Prada and looks like a younger version of Gerard Butler?” She snickers. “Yeah, sorry. Not buying it.”

  “Are you crazy?” Demon-Boy hisses, shooting her a shut-the-hell-up look. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

  The guy—he really does look like Gerard Butler—waves the whole thing off. “It’s all right, Jolene Jade. I—”

  “How…” JJ’s jaw drops. “How do you know my name?”

  Yeah, good question. I’ve known the girl for years and had no idea what JJ stood for. She refused to tell me. Jolene Jade, huh? I sorta get why she kept it under wraps.

  Prada flashes the huntress a mesmerizing smile. Seriously, if I were a girl, I’d probably have butterflies in my stomach. “I know a lot of things, JJ.”

  “Because you’re Lucifer?” She seems to have a hard time with this and she’s not the only one.

  “I understand I don’t resemble the images painted of me over the centuries.”

  “You don’t,” she testifies on all our behalf. Hoofs and horns that’s expected when faced with the ruler of the infernal regions. Not Hollywood in Prada.

  Lucifer inches closer.

  “Stop,” Mrs. Lacroix orders. “Not another step.” Raphael, Constantin, B, and her mom are ready to rumble. Something tells me this is a fight they won’t win.

  “Mamba.” Lucifer bows his head slightly. “I mean you no harm.”

  “Then why are you here?” She casts Samedi a disapproving look. “With him?”

  Lucifer shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs. “As you might know, he’s one of the few bending the rules.”

  “You mean breaking them.” Constantin has balls of iron talking to the devil like that.

  B is beside me. “Get Leandro out of here,” she whispers, nodding at the path leading back to the main road.

  “There’s no need for that,” the super-hearing devil says. “As I already said, I’m not here to harm that little boy or”—he scans the group—“anyone else.”

  Okay, I bite. “So why don’t you tell us what you want?”

  Lucifer’s gaze darts from the gates—the creatures are no longer there—to Manda. “I’m here to restore the balance,” he finally says.

  “Yeah?” B crosses her arms. “And how are you going to do that?”

  Lucifer takes another step in our direction. Literally, everyone tenses. “It came to my knowledge that things have gotten out of control while I was…” He pauses. “Away. For that, I must apologize.”

  “Apologize?” Jesse parrots. “Your knight almost ended the damn world. Sorry, doesn’t quite cut it.”

  He draws a deep breath. “You’re right.”

  Did Lucifer, the devil, the ruler of hell, just agree with my brother? And here I thought I’d seen crazy.

  “I can’t change what Beelzebub did.” He scans the corpses, stopping at Manda’s. “But what I can do is bring her back.”

  “How?” I ask, quicker than a bolt of lightning. He’s Lucifer for fuck’s sake. The stuff every nightmare is made of. Yet I am willing to listen to his offer as long as Manda comes back to me. There’s something seriously wrong with me.

  The King of Hell tilts his chin at Samedi. “He’ll help.”

  Leandro wraps his arms around my neck. “Mama…Mamama.”

  I look from my son to Lucifer. What he offers sounds too damn good to be true. After everything, I should tell him to get lost. But what kind of a father would I be if I didn’t at least try to bring Leandro’s mom back? “Let’s say you are able to bring her back, what—”

  “Alex.” Jesse taps my shoulder. “Don’t do it.”

  “What do you want in exchange?” I swear, if he says your soul, I’ll drive a knife through his damn brain.

  Lucifer laughs. “What do I want?”

  I nod.

  “Nothing,” he replies, amused.

  “Yeah.” Constantin bursts into laughter. “Right.”

  Lucifer blocks the others out, focusing solemnly on me. “By sacrificing herself, Amanda kept the natural order intact. She saved all creation, including myself.”

  I can’t help it. His words blow through my heart like a damn storm. “So what you’re saying is you’ll bring her back because—”

  “Because I owe her,” he cuts me short.

  Mrs. Lacroix ogles him suspiciously. “Is that all?”

  Lucifer flashes her a wicked grin. “Of course, not.”

  There is a catch, after all, huh? Why am I not surprised?

  Constantin draws to his full height. “Tell the truth, demon. Why would you really bring Amanda back?”

  Lucifer glances at the spikes of the iron gate. “Because”—he exhales sharply—“there’s a war coming.”

  “And here I thought we’d already fought it,” Jesse grumbles.

  A sad smile creeps over Lucifer’s face. “I wasn’t referring to the fight between good and evil, Jesse. I am talking about a war between evil and something far worse.”

  Everyone stops breathing. The devil talking about worse is bad. The devil’s voice trembling with fear? The worst.

  Not sure how long we stand there, glaring at him, unable to speak. But after what feels like forever, he says, “I’m going to need the best gatekeeper.” He studies Manda. “She’s the only one I trust to keep those gates shut. And it certainly doesn’t hurt she’s protected by”—he winks at me—“an Arrow who’d die for her.”

  I’m speechless.

  Lucifer, however, isn’t. “Bring her back,” he orders the reaper.

  Samedi frowns. “As you wish.”

  All it takes is the snap of the rogue reaper’s fingers. A fraction of a second later, Manda jerks her eyelids open. An ocean of emerald roams the meadow. “W-what happened?” she stammers.

  “Manda?” Tears of joy leak down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away. “Is that really you?”

  She props up on her elbow, squinting. “Who else would it be?” I’ve never been so happy to hear her snap at me like that.

  “Mamama,” Leandro cheers, almost jumping out of my lap.

  Manda’s eyes light up. She sits up, taking him from my arms. “You’re okay.” She’s crying, too. “He’s okay,” she says to me.

  “Yeah, he is.” I swallow the remaining salt water. “And so are you.”

  She gazes at her chest. The wound is gone, blood still all over her. “I…I am okay.” She pauses. “But…how? I—”

  “You killed yourself,” Samedi grumbles.

  Manda looks up. “Oh. My. God,” she barks, the instant she spots Lucifer. “What the fuck have you done, Alex?”

  “Nothing, I swear.”

  She shakes her head. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

  “His soul is his,” Lucifer says. “All deals made with Beelzebub are void.” He smiles at her. �
�Including your own.”

  “But—” She looks confused. “Jack. I understand jack.”

  Lucifer flashes her an almost sweet smile. “I’m sure Alex will explain everything.”

  The King of Hell picks up the First Grimoire. “What are you going to do with that?” Manda asks, voice trembling.

  The devil looks from the evil tome to her. “I will make sure no one ever touches this book again.”

  “Good,” she whispers, shuddering when her gaze lands on the grimoire.

  Lucifer turns to leave. “Until we meet again.”

  “Wait,” Jesse yells after the King of Hell. “What about that war?”

  “All in good time,” he replies, merging with the night.

  Samedi casts me an annoyed look. “Do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Forget I exist.” Then he’s gone, too.

  Manda struggles to get on her feet. She’s still shaky and Leandro’s weight isn’t helping. “Easy.” I grab our boy, cup her elbow and pull her up. “You’ve been dead.”

  “And now”—she looks at her hands—“I’m not.”

  No. No, she’s not.

  B must have gotten over the fact Lucifer was the one who brought Manda back, because she literally jumps her. “I thought I’d lost you,” she cries. “Don’t you ever leave me again, you hear me?”

  “I won’t,” Manda promises, hugging her back.

  “Good,” she barks. “Because next time, I’ll kill you myself.”

  The mamba only lets go of Manda when Constantin pulls her back. “My turn, sis.” He, too, hugs Manda as if he never wants to let go.

  One after another, they welcome her back. Even Amelia has a nod and a smile for Manda.

  “Where’s Melinda?” she asks, looking around.

  Silence settles over the meadow, thickening the air.

  Manda looks me in the eye. “Alex, where’s my sister?”

  I hand Leandro to B, lace my fingers through hers—god, touching her never felt so damn good—and take her to her sister. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  Manda drops to her knees, holding her sister’s body like I held hers not long ago. “How?” she chokes out, fighting ugly tears.