Sweet Temptation

by Wendy Higgins

  Oh, fuck.

  “No!” Anna screams. She tries to run, but I grab her arm and yank her back behind me.

  Zania is at Kopano’s side, trying to stop the bleeding with her hands. From the corner of my eye I see someone rushing our other side and hear Belial yell. I turn just as Belial and Blake are grabbing Duke Sonellion’s arms. He thrashes, pushing toward Anna, and Blake swipes his feet out from under him. Anna raises the sword and I get the hell out of the way. She stabs him straight through. His chest arches up, then there’s a puff of smoke as his soul is extinguished.

  Good riddance, Duke of Hate.

  We look back over at Kopano, who’s now surrounded by Zania, his brothers, and his father. He’s so still. It makes something in my chest twist in agony.

  “It’s not his time!” Duke Alocer cries out. My eyes are glued to the scene as Alocer’s spirit begins to rise from his skin, and his body slumps to the floor.

  Anna gasps. “Oh, my gosh . . .”

  Alocer, in spirit form, floats above Kope for a mysterious moment, and then sinks, disappearing into Kope’s body. My mouth drops. My God . . . his father is possessing him. He’s healing him. Saving him. Zania lets out a sob as Kopano’s body lurches. When his chest rises and falls in a pattern of regular breathing, his body heaves to dispense the invasive spirit. Alocer pulls himself from Kope’s form and looks down at his son. A few people cheer. Zania looks at his father’s spirit with open gratitude. Kope blinks up at him.

  I’ve always known Duke Alocer loved Kopano, but to see it burns my chest with longing. I seek out my father in the mass, and he is watching the interaction with loathing. He can make no move, though. Duke Jezebet, who turned out to be a longtime ally of Belial, stands behind him, pointing a knife at his back.

  Zania kisses Kope’s forehead, crying with joy, and I nod to myself, huffing out a breath of relief. Anna lets out a laugh. He’s going to be okay.

  Nearly all of the remaining Dukes and enemy Neph are disarmed and detained, but I’m not sure how long we can hold them. They are still struggling viciously and screaming their anger like savages.

  “It’s time,” Anna says.

  “Yes!” I shout over my shoulder.

  Does she know what’s to happen next? Does she sense that angels are coming?

  And then her voice turns sweet and reverent in the air behind me. . . .

  “Father . . . let your will be done.”

  She’s . . . praying? That’s not at all the tactic I was expecting, but each word sends a tingle down my spine. I’m not the only one who feels it. Others around us look up.

  Through the fighting I see my father again. He’s staring at Anna. For a moment I imagine that the look of shock on his face means something different, like perhaps he’s having an epiphany, and I feel a lightness of hope. And then his eyes burn red and he opens his mouth with a war cry. All hope vanishes when I see the bloodlust in his eyes—his hatred of her and what she’s trying to do. He backhands Jezebet, who drops the knife and grabs her bleeding nose. Father charges. I raise my arm to stop him, knife up.

  Belial rushes from the side and tackles him with a forearm to the throat. His head slams against the floor. Father is large in his new body, but Belial is massive and holds him down while I crouch at his side.

  He struggles against Belial, his face furious, and I shake my head. “It’s too late, Father. This is your opportunity to make amends.”

  It would be stupid to harbor a grain of hope at this point. And yet, I am still disappointed in his response.

  “I will not grovel at His feet!”

  Belial shakes his head and mumbles, “You gonna be groveling in hell, brother.”

  Father tries to spit at him, but it ends up on his own chin. I look up at Anna, nodding for her to continue.

  Her voice is clear. “I pray forgiveness, for the souls who once betrayed you and have reconciled. Return them to their rightful home, and let those spirits who still harbor hatred be returned to hell. . . .”

  The dark room begins to glow, as if night-lights have been switched on. Whisperers circle and spin above us. Belial grins at me.

  “It’s working!” I say to Anna. “Keep going!”

  Her eyes are closed and her face is luminescent. She stands with her feet apart, the sword still blazing in her hands, and says the magic words: “Banish all the demons from earth!”

  I’m racked with a sudden bout of dizzying vertigo, but when I look around I see I’m not alone. Everyone’s eyes have gone round as they’re staring at the floor. Blake’s eyes lock with mine across the room. I skate my gaze to the twins, Kope, and Z.

  What is happening? It feels like a bloody earthquake. Are we all going to be killed? Will we all be taken tonight?

  The fear that threatens to rise up is suddenly snuffed out by a glorious warmth that envelops me and sends an absolute hush over the room.

  Anna belts out the last of her prayer. “I ask with all my heart that the demon stains be washed from the souls of all Nephilim, both here on earth and those who came before us. Please allow us a chance at redemption!”

  The ground cracks open with a shattering boom, throwing the room off balance. Anna stumbles and drops the sword. It rolls straight into the depths of the crack. I grab her and pull her aside as tables slide past and chairs fall over. I look toward the side door, not twenty feet away. We have to make it there.

  The room stills again.

  One by one, the souls of the Dukes are sucked from their bodies. One by one the dark souls are siphoned into the crack, returning to hell for good. I watch with more sadness than I want to admit as Father’s soul lifts and his hand reaches for me before it goes lifeless. And then his soul is spiraling away. Down, down, down.

  Gone.

  Now angels appear from above, a whole slew of them lighting up the room, and I want to say, Bit late, aren’t you? But then I have to smile, because we handled it without them—with Anna leading the way.

  With the angels comes that warm feeling again. Belial closes his eyes and lifts his face. Something alive is in the room. Something I can’t see, but I can feel. It’s like the warm joy I get when I’m with Anna, and when I saw her mother, but even purer. Even stronger. It’s all-encompassing.

  It’s a feeling of love.

  “It is well,” says a soothing whisper in my ear like the wind. My heart is beating too fast. I remember what I’d said that day at the Grand Canyon. We can talk peace when You get rid of the demons. Well, I’ll be damned. I think I’ve just been humbled.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  I look over at Anna, who’s watching in awe as the few redeemed demons’ stains are lifted from their badges, and their souls rise.

  Belial and Anna look at each other.

  “You did good, baby girl,” he says. He grasps Anna tightly, and she all but disappears inside his large embrace. And then, like the others, his soul rises, leaving Big Rotty’s body lying there. He smiles down on us, shining in the newness of his cleansed soul, white wings flapping. With a final grin, he shoots up and away.

  The angels ascend, leaving us, and I stare at Anna. Her eyes are aglow with joy. She’s alive. She made it. We both did. I pull her to me and hold her tight. She laughs in my arms.

  And then something feels . . . strange. My entire torso is heavy and overly hot, then there’s a pull, like a vacuum is on my sternum. I watch in shock as dark red smoke leaves my body where my badge is, and wafts away.

  What the . . . ?

  I look at Anna as a fizzle of putrid yellow seeps from her badge, leaving it white as snow. She puts a hand over her chest, then looks at my badge and grins. I lift my eyes to the other Neph in the room, who are all staring around at each other’s white badges. What does it mean?

  There are roughly fifty Neph left alive in the room. All of our allies are miraculously accounted for, though some are worse for wear, with bloodied limbs and torn clothing. The room is strewn with bodies and debris. It’s quiet, as if we’re all
too afraid to ask . . . is it over, then? Truly?

  The floor abruptly shudders and tilts, knocking Anna into me, and a creak of metal cries out. This building is about to come down.

  “We have to get out of here!” I yell.

  Everyone in the room struggles to stand and run at once. Ginger falls, pulling at Marna, who twists her leg. I grab them both under the arms and pull them to their feet. Then Kope and I grab Zania, who falls next. I grasp Anna’s hand and keep her by my side as we hurdle toppled chairs and clumsily wade over rubble. I press Anna through the door before me, exhaling a huge breath when we make it up those basement stairs and away from the building, into the dark night. We’re all out, staring back at the shaking building as we run, helping to hold one another up.

  We made it. I can’t believe it bloody happened, but the demons are gone and we made it. I squeeze Anna’s hand and a laugh escapes me. Ginger flashes me an astonished smile and pulls Marna closer. Her other hand reaches for Blake’s arm and he kisses her shoulder. I marvel at the firm warmth of Anna’s hand in mine, and I keep staring down at her, black leather covered in dust. Her face is streaked with dried tears and dirt.

  We don’t stop moving until we get to our hotel, which feels solid and sound. Together, we stand staring out the glass window at Las Vegas, linked hand in hand. All around us people are running, terrified, and though we are dazed and overwhelmed and mourning those we’ve lost, we are no longer afraid.

  We are free.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Good

  “I believe now, there’s a reason why I’m here.

  It’s to try to do good, it’s to try to do better.”

  —“Free Now” by Sleeping with Sirens

  Six years later . . .

  I’m sure everyone’s curious about what it’s like to be married to me. It’s awesome, if I do say so myself. In many ways we’re just like other couples. She gently scolds me for leaving dirty dishes all over the house, and I have to sit through cheesy chick flicks. But it’s so much more than that.

  Anna was there for me when I typed an anonymous letter to the FBI and Atlanta police department, detailing the work of Marissa, her location, and as many of her accomplices’ names as I could remember. It was a risk, even anonymously, because if Marissa caught wind of the letter she could have easily tried to find me, to kill me.

  I spent seven months worrying, listening out, watching for her goons, and not letting Anna out of my sight. And then the news hit, causing an international media blitz. It was the largest bust the world had ever seen. It shed light on sexual slavery around the world. Anna stood behind me squeezing my shoulders as we watched the news that night. Tears streamed down her face as Marissa was led away in handcuffs. Then Anna wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek, whispering, “I am so proud of you.”

  Six weeks later I held Anna as she cried against my chest when we lost Marna. Baby Anise was born healthy and thriving, but she would never know her mother.

  “She’s in heaven,” Anna said, wiping her eyes. “An angel came down and took her.”

  I’d swallowed hard as I held Anna, both relieved and saddened. While some curses for our kind were lifted, others remained. We still feel the weight of our sinful Nephilim natures, but we’re no longer condemned straight to hell when we die.

  Like other couples, Anna and I are a sounding board for each other on work issues and other problems. As a social worker, Anna is still trying to save the world, but she’s held back by the system of rules and regulations. I comfort her when she cries about frustrating cases of child abuse, when it becomes too much for her to bear.

  As for my job, in Lascivious’s fourth year of success, Raj went off the deep end and OD’d on a mix of drugs. An accidental death, but the band never came back after losing him. We went our separate ways, and I’m now working with Jay on the business end of the industry, making music and learning about producing. I do miss the rush of being onstage, but at least Anna doesn’t have to deal with girls grabbing at me after events.

  Though it was a complete turn-on when she once grabbed a girl’s arm backstage, saying, “Excuse me, but that is my husband you’re trying to grope, and I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.” She’d said it with Southern charm, but I could see in her stance that my girl had been ready to throw down.

  I rewarded her well that night for saving me from the groper.

  And I suppose that’s where we differ from other married couples.

  We spend a lot of time in the buff. It’s not really fair to compare, since we’ve been through so much together, seen so much in our lives. We don’t have the same worries that other people do.

  But what can I say? Life is good. Every time I see Anna’s little arse wiggling as she washes dishes, or see her bending over the tub to scrub a corner, I become more and more glad she refuses to hire a maid. I know, I’m swine. I am a master of the sneak attack from behind. I prowl as she’s stirring or baking or rinsing, and then I pounce. I’m all over her and she’s screaming, “Kai—!” and trying to get back to doing whatever thing she’s doing at that moment.

  But I’m quite persuasive.

  One year ago, as we lay together on the couch, she ran her fingers through that small patch of hair in the middle of my chest. A pang of old worry crept in.

  “Do you suppose I should get rid of that?” I asked. “Shave it off or laser it or something?”

  She’d looked at me with confusion. “What? This hair? Why? I like it.”

  She’d laid her head back on my arm, and I held her tighter. I am a lucky bastard.

  That’s why I tried not to blanch when she hesitantly brought up the idea of adopting from Malawi. She puts up with a lot of shit from me, so I fought back my initial instinct to run screaming at the idea of a tiny person invading our content little bubble. A lot would change.

  No more walking about naked.

  No more shagging Anna anywhere and everywhere I pleased.

  No more playing the drums at night as loudly as I want.

  No more blasting music with colorful language.

  No more shagging Anna anywhere and everywhere—oh, wait. I said that. But it’s worth repeating.

  I’m still a selfish bastard who doesn’t care to share, especially where Anna is concerned. But I long ago learned that she doesn’t belong to me. She allows me to hold her heart, but she’s not fulfilled if she isn’t sharing her love and kindness with as many people as possible.

  I know she misses Patti like mad. I do as well, so I can’t imagine how it is for her. I know Anna is craving a family, and the more she talks about it, the more I start to vaguely see her vision as something . . . nice.

  You can teach him drums and music, and dress him in tiny rocker clothes, and show him how to skateboard, and . . .

  Then she mentions a set of brothers, instead of just one child, and I think she’s trying to kill me. She claps her hands, and her face is so filled with joy that I throw my hands up and sigh. Why the hell not? Let’s do it.

  And that’s how we ended up here in Malawi at the orphanage owned by Kope and Zania. They’re looking well. I suppose if caring for loads of children hasn’t aged them terribly, Anna and I can handle just two.

  I’m far more nervous than I care to admit, so I hold Anna’s hand tightly. She smiles up at me when Kope goes to get them. Her eyes are already damp with emotion, and I think to myself that these two boys are the luckiest lads in the world to be getting Anna as a mum.

  Kope comes back in with a toddler and a baby, one on each hip, and they’re bloody cute as can be. A burst of excitement I hadn’t planned to feel flares through me, followed by even more nervousness.

  These are my boys. My sons.

  My God, I can’t believe this is happening.

  Anna goes to the baby, who takes to her straightaway, and I’ve never seen my woman smile so big. She is radiant. The baby flaps his arms, making bubbling sounds and grabbing her hair.

  “Hi, Onani,
” she says to him, laughing.

  I can’t help but smile. I look down now at the older boy, Mandala, and he’s clearly going to be a tougher sell. He looks a bit untrusting, and I can understand that feeling. But I’ve come prepared. I squat next to him and pull out a toy car, a red hot rod. I hold it out, not getting too close. He takes a tentative step toward me.

  “It’s yours, mate,” I say, stretching my arm closer to him. “I brought it just for you.”

  I keep my arm extended until he slowly walks forward and takes it from me. He stares at my eyes, as if expecting me to take it back or yell. I nod and smile. I crouch and urge him to roll it on the ground. I even make some awesome engine sound effects and he suddenly looks up at me and smiles.

  I have to swallow back a bout of mounting emotion. I want this boy to trust me. I want him to never fear me. I want to do right by him.

  It’s funny how even yesterday I was still feeling wary, though I’d never tell Anna that. She was so thrilled, and I felt like a gobshite for not being excited. I couldn’t see how I’d have room in my heart to care for two children, two strangers, the way they would need me to. I’d hoped, over time, I’d get the hang of it, but it turns out some things truly do come naturally.

  Like loving a child. My heart expands and makes room for them without any effort from my mind. And once they’re in, they’re there to stay. They’re mine to care for. Mine to provide for and support.

  We remain at the orphanage for hours, getting to know the boys’ personalities, and letting them become accustomed to us. I can already imagine them at our home just outside of L.A. We have a small yard. There is a park down the street. I can see them there. I can see me there with them.

  The room opens and other children filter in to look us over with curiosity. They all seem to be fascinated with Anna’s bright hair, and drawn to her lovely smile. Can’t blame them.