by Tara Brown
Gretel shakes her head, "Let's cross that bridge when we get there. If we can find them, we can kill them and maybe the next two won’t come. They come in order, and they wait for the horseman before them to finish his task before they come."
Wyatt points at her, "No ‘we’. Don’t ‘we’ us. We are not a ‘we’. It is us and it is you. I am on the side of my family—this is my family. You lost that right when you tried to kill me, two weeks ago."
Gretel looks hurt, actually hurt. Her cold exterior looks melted. She pleads, with not only her words, but also her eyes, "Wyatt, we are your family. We love you. We made a mistake, asking you to choose between Rayne and us. I see now, we are all on the same side. I put duty before motherhood, and I have to ask you to forgive me."
"BULLSHIT! YOU THINK I WILL EASILY FORGET THE HATRED ON YOUR FACE AS YOU FOUGHT AGAINST US?"
Sarah opens her mouth but he points at her, "SHUT THAT NOW!" She closes her mouth. He turns back to his mother, "YOU STABBED ME, YOUR OWN SON!"
Gretel rolls up her sleeve, revealing a massive burn, "I never knew she could do this. She has never done it before. She has never had wings before. The dead fought for her. Rayne has released the first two of the four horsemen. She is the hand of God, and I believe you that we must help her end her parents. You know what Fitz saw her as, he always did. The churches are wrong, not you. She is the answer, not the problem. It took me nearly dying, nearly losing my son for my beliefs, and nearly plotting with the Catholic Church, to see it. This is the right way. This bizarre group of people you are part of is the answer. I think this strange combination is the answer. We have spent so many years fighting against the Dracula family that we have never considered we were all made for a purpose." She takes a step forward, “And you, my special son, you too were born for a reason.”
Her hateful eyes turn on me, she drops to her knee. I don’t know who looks more shocked, me or Sarah, but she bows her head, "I swear by my sword and my heart, I will die protecting you." I can hear her choking the words out. I almost choke and Mona snorts.
My eyes dart to Constantine. He twitches a no. I look at Wyatt, he does the same. I smile, the smile Willow taught me to use when I wanted to tell someone to eff off. "Thank you. I accept your help."
She rises, smiling. She looks at Sarah, "I cannot tell you what to choose, but what more proof do you and your family need?"
Sarah nods, "I agree. I will fight to help you, Rayne." Her, I actually believe. There is no production with her, and unlike Gretel, I see no demons in her eyes.
Constantine clasps his hands together, "Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you on your knees, Gretel, but let's see if the TV has any idea of the wars starting." Wyatt’s eyes dart open and Michelle and Stella burst out laughing. It takes me a second to realize what he has said.
When he realizes the comment he has made Constantine’s lips struggle with the sinister grin he wants so badly to let loose. Instead, he turns on the TV and instantly we see it. Massacres of tourists in every country, bombings and hate everywhere.
I walk to Mona and sit on the couch next to her. She looks tired and rests her head on my shoulder, "You smell."
I nod, "I need to take a shower, but I'm scared I might get murdered."
She scoffs, "You so will. His mom is gonna roast your ass, the minute she gets a chance."
"Can you believe this?"
Her dark eyes water and her glossy lips tremble when she whispers, "No, and I can't reach my dad or my mom. She isn’t answering and his phone isn’t even ringing."
I don’t have anything for that. What do I say? I hug her to me, "I bet they’re safe. They probably have places for people to go. The US is a strong country. We'll be fine."
Constantine comes over to us. He kneels in front of us, "If you reach her, tell her to go to Montana. I have a house there; I've sent you the text with the address."
I start to laugh, "How is it you are more savvy with technology than I am and you're old, like scary old?"
He sighs, "Technically, you're older." My mouth drops open, “Look at you and all the zingers tonight.”
"Is the US getting bombed yet?" Mona asks.
He nodded, "There are bombings. She might be at the university. I know someone there; I will see if I can reach her."
Mona looks frozen, scared to move and feel. She sniffles back her tears, "Thanks."
He smiles, "We have to make a plan, Rayne. Your mother is in Ireland or Scotland, if the legends and the sea witches are to be believed. What shall we do?"
I shake my head, "I don’t know. I'm more concerned about my father. Why didn’t he try to help them?"
Constantine frowns, "Who?"
Gretel must have heard. She walks over, "Yes, why didn’t Lucifer assist the devils as you slew them? One would think he almost wanted you to kill them."
I nod, not liking that I am agreeing with her. I still really want to stab her in the eye. I remember Wyatt's father, the angel John. He is always confused as the Book of John. People never realized he was an angel, not a man. The angel of truth and wisdom. I remember when Gretel betrayed him, letting him die. I remember this, and yet, Wyatt is so young. He does not look old enough to be the son of John, but I know he is.
Wyatt sits, "What if it is as the book says it will be? What if the seven seals have to be opened to make the world new and take the spirits of the penitent to God?"
Gretel scoffs, "That is a very inaccurate description of the end of world, firstly. Secondly, that would mean the antichrist and lamb have been born." Her eyes dart to me, "You must be the antichrist this time."
And there it is, his asshole mom calls me Satan. So much for being on my side. Bitch.
I sigh, "I'm not the antichrist, Gretel. I am born of angels, archangels."
She shakes her head, "You have opened the seals, killing the devils must have opened the first five, and we are slowly seeing the end of days. Tribulation is at hand."
I give Constantine a look. He makes a duck face, making Mona laugh, "She calls Rayne Satan and you make a duck face?"
He scowls, "I'm thinking. That’s my thinking face. I made it before ducks existed. It should be called a Basarab face.” He sighs, “She might be right."
Wyatt throws his hands up into the air, "I've heard enough." He grabs my hand, making me instantly sick and drags me through the massive castle. I pull my hand from his, gagging slightly. "Where are we going?"
He gives me that cocky grin, the one that started it all, "A bedroom."
I laugh, "I'll probably die if we have sex now."
He laughs, "I wish."
I gasp, "Ass."
He puts his hands up, "I wish we could have sex, not that you would die. Anyway, that was awkward. My mom and the whole speech—she’s full of it. I need a shower and you need a shower, and I don’t trust my mom. So, we shower together, for safety. You know safety in numbers."
I laugh, "You do wish. No. You can sit on the toilet with my sword while I shower."
He smiles wider, "Sounds good." He turns to walk, but I point the other way, "The bedrooms are over here."
He looks confused, "You remember this place?" A naughty smile plasters itself across my face, "I do, actually."
He winces, "Oh God, I don’t want to know."
"I wasn’t going to tell you."
He gives me a sideways glance as we round the corner to the guest quarters, "You like torturing me."
I smile, "I really do. I really, really do." We get into a room, one I don’t recall. I strip down in the bathroom, "Okay, you can come in." I jump in the shower before he can see me, but then realize the doors are glass. Apparently, Constantine has done some updating. Why couldn’t he update the drafty front room?
The steam and water make the glass hard to see through, but I can still see Wyatt watching me.
"Look the other way."
"No. Come out and make me."
I laugh, "I'm going to kill you, one of these days."
He laughs too, "Can it be during s
ex? Please."
I roll my eyes and savor the hot water, "Do you think I'm the antichrist?"
"No. I asked Fitz before he died and he thought you were the lamb; now I do too. He always did though."
His words spin in my head, the lamb. The equivalency to Jesus? No way. I pour the lemon balm shampoo into my hand and try desperately to find the answers inside of myself. As I scrub it through my scalp, Willow’s words run through my head.
“You’ll always find your answers in your own heart.”
“Nene, the world is a huge place and the only spot you can worry about is your own garden.”
“There is no sense in worrying about things you don’t truly want to change. If you did, you would have done it already.”
“Eat live enzymes to keep your body’s good bacteria healthy, and don’t eat meat or have sex. They waste your chi.”
I tilt my head back, rinsing it off and nodding. The whole sex thing might have been good advice. I hear the glass door close and I open my eyes. Wyatt is standing across from me, completely naked. I can see the thing I have always sort of been curious about in my peripheral, but I don’t look below sea level.
“Why are you in my shower?”
He gives me the charming smile that normally feels like he is using it to undress me, only I’m naked already. Very naked. “I just thought, why not? You can’t touch me and I can’t touch you, not without you being very sick. So why not?” He steps a little closer across the tiles, smiling down on me. “Why not just take a good,” he steps closer, “hard,” and closer, “look at what we can’t have?”
My body is trembling. I can feel something I didn’t know I had in me. It’s a fire, something fierce. I look down, finally letting myself look at him. The water pours down on us. It feels cool compared to my skin. I swear I can hear a subtle sizzle as each drop lands on my skin. I step back, pressing my back against the wall of tile. He steps into the water, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. I have a filthy want to drag my hands down his chest, feeling his muscles.
He runs his hands through his dark hair, and I can’t take another second of it. I grab his face, fighting the instant wave of sickness and pain. My lips touch his desperately. His hands roughly grab me, pulling me up into him. His body against mine is too much. I cry out into his soft lips, backing away.
His eyes are dark and tormented and he false starts several times. My hands do the same but neither of us move or get closer.
“I want you, Rayne. I’ve wanted you since I saw you order that ridiculous root beer float. I’ve wanted you from the minute you blew me off and even when I realized what you were.” He takes a step back and my throat gets thick. He looks down at my body, his face blushing even beyond the redness he has from the passion we are both fighting. He licks his lips, smiling at the thoughts he isn’t saying.
I whisper my own confession, “I want you too.”
He gives me a hurt look, “I should have been honest with you, from the start. Once I knew what you were, I should have been honest. I did really awful things to the guys you were with. It just made me so mad, ya know? They could be with you and I couldn’t.”
“We can’t change anything.”
He drops to his knee on the tiles and looks up at me. His eyes narrow from the water splashing from my body onto his face. “I should have asked you last time. I shouldn’t have assumed it was the best thing for you.” He stalls. I can see the hesitation on his face, but he still says what he is thinking. “I handfasted with you in hopes that it would be something else. I know you think it was so I could track you, and it was. But it was so I could keep you safe.”
“Why did you get engaged?”
He looks hurt and sighs, “I was born engaged, Rayne. Born that way. I was born ages ago. It takes us centuries to mature, we age so slowly. They say it’s the fae in our blood. I’ve been engaged for hundreds of years.”
I nod slowly, “The other me remembers your mother and Jonathan together.” I look down on him, “Why are you kneeling?”
“Handfast with me again, I bet there is a fire witch who is stronger than the other who can put it back.”
I almost nod, but the memory of the other fire witch eating my broken handfast wax and the evil I ate from her, comes back. I shake my head.
His face pinches, “I said I was sorry and I meant it. How many times must I apologize?”
I want to cry, but instead I offer him a smile, “It will always be one more time.”
He nods, “Then I will say it every day for the rest of our lives in hopes of catching up.”
I can’t help but grin at that. It’s hopeful and ridiculous. When I open my mouth, words fall out. I don’t mean for them to, but they do. “I love you, Wyatt.”
He nods, I can see a fire behind his eyes, “I love you too.”
I can’t technically feel for him. That’s locked away or lost in the multiple personalities inside of me, but I know I love him. It’s my heart’s truth.
He looks like he’s won the lottery but he doesn’t move, “When we fix this horsemen situation, do you promise to try again?”
I nod. He stands up again, looking down on me. Goddamned, he is sexy! The way his hair drips water down onto his face, and the way his eyes melt my soul, it’s too much. I grab his face again, wincing as the instant pain and suffering is there. I fight it, brushing the softest kiss against his lips. I’m shaking in pain when he backs away. I can feel sweat forming on my brow. I lean into the water and close my eyes. When I open them, he’s gone. I know I’m sad. Tears fill my eyes and I cry into the shower water, but I can’t feel the heartbreak of not being able to have the thing I want.
I think the others cry at the thought of me loving him and not Constantine.
I whisper into the shower, “I won’t choose, not yet.”
It doesn’t satisfy them. They weep inside of my mind and I swear I am crazy.
Two
The images are intense. The black rain is being called acid rain from the bombs. It burns and even kills those caught out in it for too long. It only burns organic matter. It has no effect on buildings or umbrellas. It makes no sense. The man speaking on the TV has no idea what it is, and he confesses scientists are equally baffled.
Gretel paces in front of the massive stone fireplace. She and Constantine have worn a path in front of it.
I sigh, “We need to go back to the States.”
Constantine shakes his head, “No. We need to find Lillith.”
Gretel shakes her head as well, “NO. We need to kill the horsemen.”
We are at an impasse, have been for three days. Wyatt’s eyes watch me from the corner of the room. They have done so for three days also.
He speaks softly but everyone listens, “Rayne and I will go back to the States. Mona and Michelle and Gill, you stay here with Tom and Maria. Stella and Constantine, you go and find the garden. Mom and Sarah will locate and attempt to kill the horsemen. Call the other Van Helsings. They will come and help.”
It sounds reasonable to me.
His mom’s eyes dart at Sarah who looks pained, “My parents are siding with the Catholic Church. There is no one but us.”
Gretel nods, “Maggie is with your father at the ocean front estate. She needs to be kept safe.”
Wyatt nods slowly, taking it in. “You go and find the horsemen; when you find them, Stella and Constantine will come to you after they’ve found the garden.” He smirks at Constantine, “Can you still fly, Basarab, or is becoming a bat a young man’s game?”
Constantine chuckles. Stella narrows her gaze, “We could never trust them to fight with them. Gretel is not known for her loyalties.”
Gretel looks savage, “I feel exactly the same about you, corpse.”
Stella stands from her chair, looking dramatic in the firelight with her red gown and long blonde hair, “I guess I could always ask Jonathan how loyal you are.”
Gretel snarls, leaping at her. She takes her to the ground. They get in
hits, but it gets serious when Gretel bites into her own wrist and drips her blood onto Stella who screams. She kicks Gretel across the room, smashing her into the brick wall. She is up and gone, and then in a flash, right in front of Gretel. Her hand comes back but Wyatt and Constantine are up and grabbing their perspective family members. Stella’s face looks like she has met with the acid rain. It is blackened and burned. Her upper lip is missing.
Gretel is wheezing from whatever is broken in her back from the wall.
Mona looks at me, “That escalated quickly.”
Michelle snuggles in closer to me on the couch, “That was insane.”
They all look at us three on the couch. Wyatt and Gretel on one side of the fire and Constantine and Stella on the other. With the huge fire flickering behind them, they all look positively evil.
I get up, “I’m going to the States, alone.”
Constantine opens his mouth but I hold up a hand, “The nixie can get me there faster than anyone, and under the water, the black rain can’t hurt me.”
I look at Mona and Michelle, “Stay here, it’s the safest place you can be.”
Constantine puts his hands on his hips, “Why are you so desperate to be back there?”
There is something I can’t tell them. I shake my head, “It’s hard to explain, but I need to see someone.”
Constantine sighs, “Let’s sleep on it. We can decide tomorrow.”
I smile, “Fine. I’d rather not swim the Atlantic in the dark anyway.”
Gretel, Sarah, and Wyatt go to the wing they’re sleeping in. It was Constantine’s wing for human snacks the last time I was here. Stella’s face is healing but she still looks like a zombie Barbie. She puts a hand out for Michelle, “Come on.” Michelle wrinkles her nose, “Is that going to go away or are you going to be fugly all night?”
Mona laughs but Stella frowns, “What does fugly mean?”
It dawns on me at that moment that they are lovers. I don’t even know what that makes Michelle. Is she a lesbian now? Maybe she was always flexible.
I suppose love is love—can she love without her soul?
Mona loops her arm into mine, “Night guys.” We turn and walk the hallway to our room. She leans in, “If you leave, find my mom.”
