Seraphim

by Leslie Swartz

  “Bitch, what the fuck?!” Valerie yelled.

  “You gave me a key for emergencies,” Gabriel reminded her.

  “Is this an emergency?”

  “Not really, but you know how pushy this one can get,” she said, gesturing to Lucifer.

  “All right, what do you want?” Valerie huffed, setting the knife on the coffee table and sitting back down.

  “Is that how you greet guests?” Lucifer asked. “You don’t say ‘hello’, don’t offer a beverage? It’s really rather rude.”

  “Lucifer,” Gabriel warned.

  “Fine, right to it, then,” he said. “I just wanted to stop by and make an attempt, even if it proves fruitless, to mend what seems to be broken in our brother/sister relationship.”

  “Oh, my God,” Valerie scoffed. “Are you serious?”

  “Quite.”

  “Listen,” Valerie explained. “There’s nothing broken, nothing needing mending, okay? I’m not mad at you, I just don’t feel comfortable hanging out with the Devil, you understand?”

  “Well, that smarts,” he admitted. “Might I remind you, sister, of some of our more cordial interactions? Times when we got along well. One might even go as far as to call us friends at certain times in our long history.”

  “I don’t need a lesson in friendship, Lucifer. I’m just trying to have a peaceful--’ But before she could finish, Lucifer grabbed her hand and placed it on his temple. She was immediately inundated with visions. Bits and pieces of Lucifer’s memories of her. Most of them were of them hunting and exorcising demons. Others were of them fighting in wars together and of them in Hell, putting the Fallen in cells. When he was satisfied that she’d seen enough, Lucifer released her hand and backed away. She gasped and fell back into the couch, eyes wide, with a look of horror on her face. The feelings of despair from the Fallen combined with the fear and rage of the people and other angels in the wars was overwhelming. As the shock wore off, anger took it’s place and Valerie snapped. She leaped out of her seat, grasped the knife and held it to her brother’s throat.

  “I should kill you!” she screamed.

  “Take it down a notch,” Gabriel interjected, using her telekinesis to pull Lucifer back from Valerie’s reach.

  “What the fuck was that?!” Valerie yelled. “Why would you show me--” Suddenly, the knife in her hand exploded in flames. She dropped it on the table and it quickly went out without causing any damage. She stared at it in disbelief. “What the--”

  Gabriel burst out in uncontrollable laughter. “It’s, it’s,” she said. “It’s your flaming sword!” She fell to the floor in hysterics, kicking her legs and pounding the floor with her fist. “Flaming sword!” she cackled again, wiping tears from her eyes. “I can’t stand it!”

  Lucifer snickered.

  “I didn’t think you’d ever get this power,” Gabriel said, getting herself up off the floor and quieting her laughter.

  “You knew about this?” Valerie asked. “Of course you did, look who I’m talking to. The fuck is it?”

  “Uriel carries a sword engulfed in Holy Fire into battle,” Lucifer explained.

  “Apparently, you can access that shit if you get pissed off enough.” Gabriel said. “Like B with the lightning.”

  “It’s a good thing our brother wasn’t here just then,” Lucifer quipped. “His inner firefighter would have kicked into action.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “Imagine him hosing her down with the sprayer from the sink.”

  The two laughed while Valerie picked up the knife and returned it to the kitchen.

  “I need you two assholes to leave now,” she told them.

  “Come now sister,” Lucifer said. “I don’t like this rift between us.”

  “I just need a minute to get my shit together, okay?!” she snapped.

  “We’re going,” Gabriel said, pulling Lucifer towards the door. “Relax, have a quiet day off. But, I do want you to make an effort to be less hostile toward our brother.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel,” Lucifer said.

  “Bitch,” Valerie warned.

  “Not today, calm down,” Gabriel said. “In the future. Just think about it.”

  The two left, Valerie closing and locking the door behind them. She sat back down on the couch, propping an elbow up on the arm and resting her head in her hand. She looked around, confused.

  After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, she muttered to herself, “I need some weed.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Gabriel said as she and Lucifer got back to her apartment.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Goddamn ghosts, man,” she complained as she headed to Wyatt’s room. Lucifer sighed, not at all interested in what that was all about. He made himself comfortable on the couch and picked up the book he’d started reading the day before. It was a gripping tale of organized crime and family. One of the brothers was being ostracized for being different, not as well liked as his siblings. He could relate.

  Gabriel found Wyatt sitting on the edge of his bed weeping. She hurried to sit next to him and held him in her arms, cradling his head while he cried.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, knowing that it wasn’t, as she rubbed his back. “It’s okay.”

  Chapter 15

  John took one last sip of whisky before heading off to bed. He went around the apartment, turning lights off and checking that the door was locked. Once in his bedroom, he took his cell phone from his pocket, turned it off, placed it on the charger, and turned to close the door. As he started to unbutton his shirt, he noticed that his phone was now on the floor, not on the bedside table where he’d left it.

  “Strange,” he muttered to himself as he put it back. As soon as he took his hand away, though, the phone flung itself from the table, back to the floor in the same position as before.

  I’ve had too much to drink. He thought, rubbing his eyes and shaking his dead. He took his shirt off, untucked his undershirt and unbuckled his belt, leaving the phone where it was. As he began to unzip his slacks, the bedside lamp, too, suddenly fell over and rolled off the table. John looked around suspiciously.

  “Who’s there?” he yelled sharply, half expecting to be robbed at gunpoint. No response. “Who the hell’s there?!” Still nothing. He went for his phone. “I’m calling the police!”

  “And you’ll tell them what, exactly?” a voice said quietly from the shadows.

  “Who is that?” he shouted into the darkness, panic setting in as he reached for the fallen lamp, the only thing available to use as a weapon.

  A form slowly began to manifest as if from thin air. John’s heart raced and his breath quickened. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. After several moments, a face became clear and the woman appeared solid.

  “Abby?” he marveled, falling to his knees, dropping the lamp and phone and looking up at the vision of his dead wife.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said as she knelt down in front of him. John’s eyes filled with tears. He tried to touch her face, but his hand went right through her.

  “You’re a,” he uttered. “A ghost?”

  “Apparently,” she confirmed.

  “How are you,” he began to ask. “I mean, why are you--”

  “I came to apologize,” she told him. “What I did to you, Johnny, is unforgivable. There aren’t words for how sorry I am.”

  “Abigail,” he assured her. “I understand. You weren’t you at the end. I should have--”

  “There’s nothing you could have done,” she explained. “I was determined. I would have found a way.”

  “Why, Abby?” he asked, tears streaming down his face. “Why did you leave me?”

  “I was deranged. Unbalanced. I thought something terrible would happen if the baby was born and I didn’t want to live without him, so in my insanity, I tried to kill us both. I was completely off my rocker. He did nothing wrong, and you certainly weren’t at fault, either. It was all me.”

  “I miss you so much,” John wh
impered. “I miss you every minute of every day.”

  “I know that,” she told him. “But, you have to let me go, John. It’s not healthy for you to hold on to me like this. The pictures everywhere, not dating anyone else. The drinking. The drinking, Johnny, is catching up to you. You’re not twenty-five anymore. And the way you’ve treated our son--”

  “I know,” he admitted. “I know. It’s just so hard, Abby. Just looking at him kills me. He’s so much like you.”

  “He’s amazing,” she said. “I’ve been watching, here and there. He’s so special, John, you have no idea. But, he needs his father.”

  “He’s an adult. I don’t see a way of changing things between us.”

  “Find one,” she demanded. “I know you love him, but he doesn’t.”

  John sprang up in bed, covered in sweat, his breathing heavy. The pale light of the sunrise filled the room allowing him to see his phone and the lamp in their proper places on the nightstand. It must have been a dream. He thought. He tried to steady his breathing, but after several moments, he realized he couldn’t. He was suddenly overcome with a sense of vertigo, even though he was still sitting in bed. He felt nauseated and weak. Then, an abrupt, excruciating pain filled his chest and radiated down his left arm. Terror gripped him as he clumsily picked up his phone and dialed nine one one.

  “Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

  John fought to speak, struggling to get even one word out.

  “Heart,” he managed to murmur before dropping the phone, falling back on his pillows and losing consciousness.

  Wyatt woke up still feeling drained from the events of the day before. He had been left reeling after his mother’s visit. But, it was a new day and he intended on making the most of it by getting in as much lightning practice as he could. As he threw his blankets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, he noticed on his nightstand sat a plate with a croissant, a cup of coffee and a note that read,

  It is my sincere hope that this will perk you up before joining the rest of us for the day. As you may have deduced, I’m cheerless enough without also having to endure your melancholy. L

  Wyatt laughed a little, putting the note down and taking a bite of his breakfast. He checked his phone. Two missed calls from Tae. Odd. The two had a polite and friendly relationship, but they weren’t what one would call close. Until now, the only time Tae had called him was an accidental butt dial. Assuming it must be important, Wyatt called his brother back.

  “Wyatt?” Tae answered.

  “Yeah, Buddy. What’s up?”

  “Your last name is Sinclair, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought so,” Tae said, slightly embarrassed that he had to check. “You’re listed as the emergency contact for a patient that came in a few hours ago. Jonathon Sinclair. From his age, I assume he’s your father?”

  Wyatt sat up straight. “He is. What happened?”

  “He had an acute myocardial infarction. A heart attack. He’s stable for now, but I’m keeping him at the hospital for a while. Just thought you should know.”

  “Jesus Christ, is he gonna be okay?”

  “Hard to say,” Tae confessed. “I’m keeping a close eye on him, but if you’ve got anything you want to say, I wouldn’t dilly dally.”

  “All right, thanks, man.”

  “Mm hm.”

  Wyatt jumped out of bed and threw his clothes on as fast as he could. He took another bite of croissant and chugged the coffee before heading out.

  “Thanks for the breakfast, Satan,” he said as he rushed by Lucifer and Gabriel who were sitting at the island playing chess on his way out the door.

  “Is he unaware that I dislike that?” Lucifer asked.

  “He knows,” Gabriel giggled.

  Wyatt hesitantly entered the hospital room where his father was recuperating. He looked fragile and smaller somehow as he lay there sleeping, IV’s and monitors flanking the bed. Nesiritide, Morphine, Saline, the bags read.

  “The good stuff, hey, old man?” Wyatt mumbled as he pulled a chair closer to the bed and took a seat. He wasn’t sure what he should do in this situation. He hadn’t prepared himself for a moment like this, though he realized he probably should have. His father was in his sixties and while he had appeared to be in good health until now, he drank heavily, worked constantly and had no semblance of a social life. In hindsight, something like this happening seemed to have been inevitable. Wyatt glanced around the dimly lit room and took note of how cold it felt. The emptiness surrounded him like a breeze as he looked out the small window at the view of another building. Everything about this place felt hollow and impersonal and he wondered if it would aggravate his father to know this might be where he’d spend his final moments. He wondered if he’d care at all about the where and be more concerned with the how or why. And he wondered if his father’s ghost would someday visit him like his mother had or if he’d simply move on, unbothered, leaving this world with no regrets.

  John’s eyes slowly fluttered open and as he woke he was surprised to see his son sitting there.

  “Wyatt,” he said, his voice scratchy. Wyatt poured a cup of water from the table next to him and carefully handed it to his father. John took a few sips and handed the cup back. “Thank you.”

  “You okay?” Wyatt asked. “How do you feel?”

  “Let’s just say, if I had a tail, I wouldn’t be wagging it,” John quipped.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m fine,” he said, trying to sit up and grunting with displeasure when he couldn’t. “They shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m all right.”

  “Dad, you had a heart attack.”

  “Just a little one.”

  “Dad,”

  “Listen, while I’ve got you here, I’d like to apologize. I know I’ve been an asshole for the last, well, your whole life, and I want to make sure you know none of that was your fault. I mean, you know that, right? That was my bullshit.”

  “Oh, I know,” Wyatt agreed coldly.

  “You deserved more from me and I’d like to make it right. Is there anything you need? Money? Advice?”

  “Well, if Annie ever gets around to filing divorce papers, I might ask you to go over them for me,” Wyatt said, half joking.

  “Done,” John chuckled. “She still hasn’t filed?”

  Wyatt shook his head.

  “Huh. Maybe she’s not sure.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Wyatt told him. “She’s seeing someone. I can’t forgive it.”

  John raised his eyebrows in approval. “Good for you, son. Fidelity is the most important thing in a marriage. If you can’t trust your partner,”

  “You’ve got nothing left,” Wyatt muttered, looking down at his hands in his lap for a moment, fiddling with the ring he still wore.

  “Speaking of wives,” John said in an attempt to change the subject. “I saw your mother last night.”

  “You saw her?” Wyatt asked, returning his gaze to his father.

  “Well, not her, obviously,” John corrected himself. “It was a dream or a heart attack induced hallucination, but it felt real. She was as beautiful as I remember and she was wearing the dress I buried her in. She told me I needed to let her go. I don’t know if I can. She was everything. The sun rose and set with her.”

  “I know what you mean,” Wyatt said, again spinning the ring around his finger. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, seeing her, what she did. If I had been in your shoes,”

  “You would have done right by your son,” John presumed. “You’re a better man than me, Wyatt. Stronger. Tougher.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do. The things you’ve been through, having me as a father, and on top of that, your mental stuff. I’m amazed you can function at all, but here you are.”

  “Oh, um,” Wyatt said. “I had a procedure. I don’t have the hallucinations anymore.”

  “Really?” John said, so
unding pleased. “A procedure? Like, electroshock?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Well, that’s great, kid. I’m happy for you. That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. Aside, of course, from ‘No, you’re not dead’.”

  As they laughed, a nurse came in carrying a large vase of flowers. “These came for you,” she said as she placed it on the window sill and handed John the card.

  “Best wishes on your current endeavor. The Rothstein Group,” John read allowed then dropped the card on the table next to him. “I should maybe get some real friends.”

  Wyatt snickered.

  “All right, Mr. Sinclair,” the nurse said, releasing the brake on his bed. “Time for more tests.”

  “All right,” John conceded. “Listen, Wyatt, go on home. I’m fine. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

  Wyatt looked at the nurse who gave him a reassuring nod.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you later.”

  “See you later,” John said as he was rolled out of the room. “It was nice seeing you.”

  “You, too, Dad.”

  That night, after his shower, Wyatt took a good long look at himself in the bathroom mirror. It was time, he decided, that he come to terms with Annie being out of his life. His father wasn’t the only one that needed to let a wife go. He looked sadly down at his wedding ring as he hesitantly slipped it off his finger and set it on the marble vanity, making sure it wasn’t so close to the sink that it could easily fall in. He cleared the steam that had accumulated on the glass and again looked at his reflection as he applied a layer of shaving cream and picked up a razor. Until now, he had only used clippers to trim down his facial hair, not seeing the value in keeping properly groomed without Annie there to appreciate the effort. It was only about five millimeters of hair, but as he shaved, it felt like years falling away. There was a sense of relief he hadn’t expected as he rinsed his face. It had been a long time since he had really seen himself and for the first time in months, he recognized the man looking back at him.