Divine Liaisons

by Poppet

  Now he sleeps next to me, and I'm ready. I'm ready like I never believed I could be.

  He's tired, or so it seems, so I wrap my leg over his, leaning my chin on his chest, waiting for him to wake up with my incessant wriggling.

  He opens a lazy eye, “Lil?”

  “Erra, I want you to show me.”

  His laugh is enchanting, lusty, “Oh, I can show you plenty.”

  “How do I open my wings when I want to?”

  “It's like an arm, just use it. Think it, command it, and it will be there to use.”

  Got you now, you son of a gun.

  Think it, command it, and it will there to use.

  Humans will continue to remain barren of their inherent power, until they learn to command with their will.

  Smiling demurely, closing my eyes to hide the deceit, I flex my will, opening wings wide. It's delicious stretching them. Like yoga, it awakens something dormant inside. Unfurling them, I have a surge inside me, an invincible inner strength making itself known.

  Sitting up, keeping the cute baby-girl pout, the love held on my face like the mask of tragedy at a masquerade, I curl the wings forward, using the sharp hooks at their apex to press into his shoulders. They are strong.

  I am his equal.

  Don't forget it, Sarah. Equals. He is not stronger.

  He knew it too, which is why he's destroyed your legacy, your children suffer daily because of his overwhelming greed to be adored. Using his power against the weak, summoning his lightning to scorch Aaron to death; he has wounded the defenseless. He has chased you your whole life, diminished your existence, ruined your happiness, and now when you finally have a reason to wake up each morning, he would rip that from you too.

  Will it. Command it. Mean it.

  Opening my eyes, I stare down at his affectionate smile.

  “You are beautiful. Your wings suit you.”

  “Thank you. When was the last time I got to fly?”

  “Too long.”

  “When?” I bloody mean it. The sharp pain enters my tone, and his expression reacts in kind.

  “EDIN.” He's lying. He's looking me in the eye and lying.

  Command it. Mean it.

  Faster than a whip crack, I slam my fist into his face. Willing it to crush, commanding it to damage, meaning it.

  He can't open his wings now, and mine give me the leverage I need. They balance me, leaving my arms and legs free.

  Unleashing my fury, I rain vengeance into him. Commanding every blow, willing every connection to powder his bones; I punch, knee, strike, smashing my knuckles into cheekbones, nose, elbowing hard into his ribs, striking his throat with rigid fingers, hard enough to shatter his Adam's Apple. Rising and plunging my knee into his groin, over and over again, finally rising up and impaling both heels into his knees until they snap, inverting the wrong way round.

  Breathing hard, the white bed spattered in gristle, blood, and bone, I stagger back, leaning heavily against the wings now resting their tips in the floor.

  The lump on the bed gurgles. A hand yet unbroken shaking its reach out to me.

  Leaping forward, I crush the hand in mine.

  “I was your equal! Yet you beat me down, imprisoned me, and destroyed all that was good on earth! And you won't even rise up to make your wrongs right. You prefer this ongoing legacy of yours, where women bear your mantle of sin. Where we are shamed, stoned, cast out and put to death, all because you are such a fucking coward you won't come back and admit you were wrong. That it was all a lie. I am crushing you the way you should have crushed the religion that hunts and hurts women. I'm your equal!”

  “You should never have made us! You did it all for your own glorification! You were cast out, and you took it out on us! And now you dare - You fucking DARE to think you can take away the one thing that makes me happy? Fuck you, Erra! You are the god of eternal death! The god who imprisoned the Spirit of Love inside a body that will age, ache, die. A body you could use against us to inflict pain! How does it feel? Do you like it? Because we sure as Hel don't! And when I find Hel, I'm going to start building my own army. Bring your Sibitti against me and I will strike them down the way you tried to strike me down! If you know what's good for you, you will run, and hide, because if I ever lay eyes on you again, I will smite an eternity into you.”

  Releasing the mass of bloody bones in my hand, I'm shaking inside out. Quivering with disgust that I could be so brutal. So heartless, and cruel.

  “Lil...” squeaks out in a geyser gurgle.

  “What?”

  “L-ove you.”

  “If you love me, Erra, then own your mistakes. Fix this religious mess. When I see you, it'd better be with two scrolls of redemption. And on your fucking knees! Undo this persecution against women. Set the record straight and clear the scandal you cast on my name. Only the truth can set us free. You kept me in prison, and when I broke out, you made the whole world my prison. No more. No more. If you want to be god, it's time you behaved like one.”

  I'm about to collapse.

  I am so appalled by my actions, I'm ready to smite myself into oblivion. I don't have the stomach for war.

  Turning, tucking my wings, I force myself to walk through the bedroom doors without running back, to fix him, and beg forgiveness for becoming the very monster I've hidden from since creation.

  Chapter 28

  Naked, staggering, all I want is to get to the front door and breathe fresh air. His blood is tattooed into my skin; it's all I can taste, and smell.

  My hand slips on the doorknob, slick with crimson guilt.

  Glaring at it, I snarl, “Open.”

  It pops open.

  I guess I've mastered using my will to command. It has instant results.

  Tugging on the wood, I fling it wide with a weak shove.

  Swaying, I step out, right into the circle of Sibitti.

  Dustin steps forward, their leader, his eyes petrified dark as they look me over.

  “Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head, the world is spiraling and gyrating. I think I'm going to be sick.

  “Where is Erra? Whose blood is this?”

  “You're too late. Your god just met his match.”

  I am trying to swallow, but nothing happens, as if my mouth won't work. Stars prick their dance in the black vision all around me.

  What time is it? How did it go dark so quick?

  Pain explodes through me when my head bounces off the hard tiles. Aching everywhere, I'm grateful for the numb seeping through me.

  Hands clamp hard, lifting me. My stomach revolts, spewing and choking, bile burns my throat.

  Something cold wipes my face, and I'm barely aware of the thunder snarling its judgment across the sky. The rain is so cold, it's blissful; washing my sin into the ground. Cool, relief, the world dims to unconscious.

  Opening my eyes I'm just in time to see Dustin carrying Erra in his arms, flanked on either side with backup. His expression is hard, focused. He's slipped into General mode, with one objective; protect his leader, at any cost.

  His jaw is set, and he doesn't even look at me as he strides through the living room to the front door.

  I try moving, to watch him, to ask where he's going, but I'm stuck.

  These guys are like the Male Model Mafia. Model number two, one step behind Dustin, nods at someone next to me, and just like that, Dustin is gone, out into the night, with our creator.

  What the hell have I done? I just declared war on god. This cannot end well.

  Movement steps out from just behind my left arm, moving to in front of me. They fan out, and I'm counting three of them now. That means there's probably still two of them behind me.

  “We wait for their return. Sorry if you're uncomfortable,” says the muscle man on the right.

  I've been silenced with tape, and if feels like my wings have a stake through them, injecting painful pulses into my shoulders, my arms and ankles secured behind me. I guess once you've used your w
ill verbally, they'll prevent you from having any leeway whatsoever.

  Mr broody and delicious smiles, guarding me on the right, “You're wilder than we gave you credit. Did you really think you could kill god?”

  Yes actually, I did.

  “None of us can die. Oh baby, you'd better start praying for mercy.”

  None of us can die? Great. I guess I'll be spending the rest of my eternal life in prison.

  This is damn uncomfortable, stuck here, covered in blood, naked, in a room of MMM.

  Watching my knees, I don't have the desire to look into their eyes and see the disgust. God made woman, and she's a vicious, betraying, underhanded, walking horror.

  It isn't my nature, but I thought I had no choice. Now I have to face the music when he comes back.

  Shuddering, shivering, I'm hollow inside. I crossed a line, now there's no going back. Once you resort to violence as a solution, you can't undo it. It snags hooks into your soul, scarring you forever with ugliness. Dustin is a crusher, a hammer of might, and he's inherently that man. He takes out opposition with violence. I should have just run away again. At least then I'd be able to live with myself.

  They're mumbling to each other in a strange language, and it makes me feel so desperately alone. I've always been pretty much alone. But now, now I wish I had someone in my corner. My lover works for my jailor and creator. I'll never come first. Erra wins, again and again, and again.

  Crying out of shame, fear, and loathing, I watch his darkening blood waver behind the tears.

  Lesson learned, run and hide, don't fight. And if you do attack your nemesis, do it with your clothes on. Or you'll find yourself stuck in a room of heavies, staring at you like you're being served for whipping rights and a long night of naked pain.

  An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. His words. Recorded forever and ever, as a warning.

  Mess with god, and you'll live to regret it.

  Stuttering out a shaky sigh, compressing my mouth and sniffing loudly, I have to face the fact I just crossed that line, into territory unfamiliar, and there's no saving me now.

  Brutally cold air washes over me, and I twist my head to look in its direction. The front door is open, and Erra is walking in as if nothing happened. Glorious, gorgeous, almighty.

  His black eyes run over me, Dusty and the other guy walking together behind him. They have his back, forever.

  How did I ever think I could win any kind of confrontation with god?

  When he halts in front of me, I refuse to meet his eyes. Staring at his feet, I watch them as he turns to the Model Mafia.

  “Leave us.”

  Oh shit.

  My insides begin contracting in vicious twists. Clenching my teeth to stop them from clattering, I'm overpowered with terror. My body keeps jolting with it, as if it's being electrocuted.

  There's movement, and the front door closes, sealing out the bitter cold.

  A finger plants itself under my chin, forcing it up, making me look at him. A muffled sob wracks me, bursting tears, rupturing my nostrils. It's painful sobbing with your mouth sealed up.

  “I asked you for a week. And you wouldn't even give me seven days. When you live thousands and thousand and endlessly thousands of years, a week isn't enough. Lilit, why are you so cruel to me?”

  Maybe I was kept in prison because I've done this before?

  Crouching down to his haunches, he stares up at me, sprinkles of light entering his eyes.

  “Do you know why I asked for a week? To explain myself, to show you who you are, to teach you how with power comes even greater responsibility, to share with you only truth. I never set out to hurt you. If you had just asked me straight out, you wouldn't have judged me such a monster. Now you are covered in shame and blood, and memories you have to live with for the rest of existence. It was preventable, all of it. The next time you take advice from a military man, think with your head, not your heart.”

  He's holding my knees with such tenderness, his voice skimming silky pearls all over me, exposing the jagged ridges of guilt for what they are.

  I judged him. I didn't even give him the benefit of the doubt. I tried to murder someone who could have been innocent. There isn't a punishment heavy enough for what I've done. I've behaved just like mankind, jumping to conclusions and lashing out with every force at my disposal.

  Earth has never known peace.

  Now neither will I.

  Chapter 29

  Standing, he offers me his hand, the merciless pain in my shoulders now gone. He's unshackled me.

  “Come, have a drink with me.”

  I have no words, no fight, no will left. I am surrendering.

  Taking the hand, he helps me stand, leading me to the library, where it's warm.

  The doors thud closed behind us, sealing us in with firm finality.

  He's looking me over, and his expression is grief personified. I am so ashamed, so saturated with guilt, I can't bear his compassion and love. Bursting into tears, I cover my face with my hands, sobbing. I stand without a shred of clothing or dignity before two chairs, on a rug which is soft and welcoming, the fire laughing and chuckling at my fall from grace.

  He takes my hand, and through a heaving chest and mouth twisted in misery, my nose running with my eyes, I force myself to look at him. Vertigo whirls the room into a blur when I see him kneeling on one leg before me, staring up, holding my hand.

  “Forgive me, Lili. Forgive me for what I did in my past.”

  Nodding, too choked to speak, I want to throw myself at his feet, beseeching him to forgive me and show me mercy.

  My legs cave, my knees giving in to the trembling of my thighs, kneeling before him as if in prayer, I clutch his hand in both of mine.

  “I'm sorry.” It's hoarse, raw, broken, stuttered. It scratches a mark of guilt right through my core.

  He looks at my body, and the wings retract like a blow between my shoulder blades. Instantly clean and clothed, he threads his arm over my shoulders, speaking into my forehead with close lips, “I love you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Nothing.”

  Withdrawing, his gorgeous body resting on his heels, his knees still touching me, his hand still in mine, his voice is a melody around me.

  “You may be unwilling to give me a week. Please Lili, give me tonight. Let's eat together, dance together, and just sit enjoying each others company. I have so much to say, and you've yet to give me the opportunity to make my wrongs right. Hear me out, over a meal, a drink, be my friend.”

  Gulping, the ache in my throat is so painful, it feels like I have a shard of glass lodged in it.

  Nodding, I am desperate to make my wrongs right too.

  “Yes.”

  His smile stretches his beautiful face into glory, but it's so sad.

  Drawing me into his arms, he rubs my back gently, “We're going to make it. We're going to be okay. No more crying, princess. It breaks my heart to see you cry.”

  I can't stop. It's a hundred years of ache, of loneliness, just arrived on me in one tidal wave, and I would give my life for a friend, an ally. For real love. And here he is, showing me a side to god I didn't believe existed. It's total forgiveness and compassion. I need a friend too.

  Huddled into his warmth, surrounded with his protection, it needles pain into me with the force of an executioner. I hurt, my soul, my heart, my body, my mind, everything I am, hurts; and I hurt with shame.

  Gentle waves cascade through me, filling my cold up with musical warmth. His music is so incredible, it sends my blood into a hypnotic trance, dancing in mesmerized adoration.

  He holds me until the tears stop. Slowly, carefully, he pulls away, and I'm surprised by the gold patch on his tight black shirt.

  “I'm pouring us that drink now. Okay?”

  Wiping my eyes, sniffing, I nod. Still too ashamed to look him in the eyes.

  An ache fills me when he leaves my side. Fighting my tremulous mouth, I battle to get a grip, to be the woman he needs me
to be, to have the strength to hear his side of the story.

  His shadow falls over me, and he lifts me, taking me to the chair before the hearth, placing me in it, then pushing a glass into my hand.

  Seating himself on the twin, he holds his glass out to me.

  “To us. Healing the past so we can both have a future.”

  Swallowing hard, I clink crystal to crystal.

  Sipping, fire slides down my throat, like pouring acid on a raw wound. Stinging my eyes, coughing slightly, I keep drinking, until it's gone.

  Swallowing against the lava searing my throat, I hold my hands tight in my lap, finally looking at him.

  His smile is tender, holding his hand out for me to hold.

  Slipping my hand into his, his grasp caresses my hand with protection, sending tendrils of love up my arm, wrapping around my heart.

  “You have every right to be angry. When I came here, I was a relatively young being. I am sure you've been around mankind long enough to know what teenagers are like?”

  I nod my answer.

  His thumb is running over the back of my hand, firing my blood. His smile is still sad, and I wish it didn't hurt me so much to see it.

  “I was immature. I made everyone suck up to my ego, swearing allegiance, proving loyalty, and giving me gifts to prove their adoration. I had such a bad case of 'up my own ass', I was ruthless. I was cruel, and when someone crossed me, I would get angry enough to rain hellfire on them. It meant nothing to me.”

  Staring back into the fire, he is lost in eternity, sharing his failings in a tone thick with remorse.

  “I am only half angel. It's the other half which gets me into trouble. This body I have, it craves everything humanity craves. I ached for a companion. I had roaring desire burning me up from the inside, and no way to release it. So I made you. Not for one second did I entertain the thought that my own creation would have a will of their own. A mind to challenge mine. And the might to put me in my place.”

  He shoots me a fond grin, his eyes shooting celestial sparkles at me, like love embers reaching across to kiss my cheeks.