A Reckoning so Sweet

by Candace Wondrak

  “You can’t,” Lucifer hisses, breaking into his Devil form. As the Demons behind him slowly vanish, returning to Hell, Lucifer’s body twists, like something tugs at him at all angles, pulling him through space and time until there’s nothing left of him, until he’s gone from my sight.

  Last, I turn to Michael and the Seraphs. I do a quick study, finding that Lucifer hadn’t landed the blow I watched him ready. “I thought he—”

  “Satan was never destined to be the victor,” Michael says with a smile.

  “Everything else, all the other realms,” I say slowly, “their leadership will remain, but I want the doors open to earth. Earth is the middle world. I want it connected to everything. I want it to be a place where anyone can live, where anything can call it home.” Sighing, I raise my hand, offering Michael his sword back.

  Michael gives me a nod, his strong hand taking the Seraph blade by the hilt. “It will be done,” he says. He looks to Dagon, wordlessly nodding again. His sign of approval, maybe? He sheathes his shimmering blade. “Now, there is someone who is dying to meet you.” He extends his hand, and I glance to Dagon, unsure.

  Dagon says, “I’ll be right behind you.”

  I slip my hand into Michael’s, and as a white light envelopes me, I wonder if he’s taking me to Heaven, to meet a certain someone up there, but when the light subsides, and we reappear somewhere familiar, I forget about it all. I pull from the Archangel, running to the opening.

  The cave is surrounded by green, the dead forest alive with life again. My mom and Mike stand on the outside, and before I know it, Eve is hugging me, blubbering on and on about how I did it, that she always believed in me.

  What a crock of crap.

  I pat her on her back once and yank myself out, running into the cave, past everyone. All I can think of is Deb. Is she okay? Is she alive? Did she…I can’t even finish that thought. I find David sitting next to her, holding her freckled hand. Deb’s top half sits up, propped against the cave’s wall.

  She smiles at me. “I told you we’d be all right.” When she says it, David laughs, but it sounds like it’s mixed with tears of joy.

  “Never again, Deb,” David whispers. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Deb says, pointing to me. “Look at her.”

  My friend, my old friend, looks at me, mouth falling. “What in the do-dang-diddly happened to you?”

  “I got caught in a wood chipper,” I say with a smile. My sarcastic follow-up to that remark trails off when Athena and Aphrodite appear beside me.

  The goddess of love gives me a peck on the cheek. “I told you, sugarplum.”

  “I did not name her Champion for her grace,” Athena says, grabbing my lone wrist in a warrior’s greeting. When she pulls away, I notice that her boon reappears on the wrist I still have. “You will always be welcomed in Olympus. I will make sure the gods know what you have done here.”

  Before she and Aphrodite can vanish into thin air, a shout rings through the cave, and I wander to Nat and Penny. Nat stands in the shade of the cave, staring at her long-lost friend, the leader of her flock. Cloud stands in the sun, sparkling with golden flecks, smiling at her.

  “How—” Nat is unable to speak.

  “Let me show you,” Cloud says, baring his fangs as he bites down on his wrist. He offers it to her—actual warm blood, coming from a Vampire. Even I’m shocked. Must be the magic of the Fae, of Gaia.

  Nat unhurriedly takes it, and though she hates blood, she drinks from him. Its effect is immediate. A power rushes through her, and she glances to Penny once before stepping out, into the sun. She winces out of habit, but no harm comes to her. Her pale skin sparkles gold like Cloud’s.

  I have never seen Nat smile so widely.

  She rushes to Penny, pulling her out into the sun, too, and they share a passionate kiss.

  From the cave, a crying sound echoes, and we all turn to watch a man—wearing a Superman t-shirt and dark, clean jeans, walk out, cradling a baby. “Human life is so cool,” he says, light eyes flicking to me. “Lexine, right? Or is it Lexa? Lex? Maybe just L? I’m down with anything.”

  Michael moves beside me, coughing.

  “Right.” He puts the baby in one arm, offering me a hand. He notices that I don’t currently have that arm and switches, of which I’m slow to shake. “The name’s Raphael. Raffe. Raffie. Not to toot my own horn, but—” He chuckles. “—I’m kind of like your guardian Angel.”

  Eve pushes through Michael. “You!”

  “Me! I know, I’m amazing!” Raphael says. To shut my mom up, he hands her Deb’s baby.

  Eve is only sidetracked by the baby for a second. She glares at him. “You were the one who convinced us that all our problems would be solved if we sold our baby’s soul.”

  That…is not what I thought she’d say.

  “Yes. I did. And, look around—the world’s saved. Problems: solved.” Raphael grins, acting more like a hipster than an Archangel. When I give him a weird look, he adds, “What? You didn’t think you got your healing from that Mark, did you?” He points to himself. “Archangel. Of. Healing. It’s kind of what I do.” He sees my lack of left arm. “I could grow that back for you, if you want.”

  With the revelation shocking me, I step away, shaking my head. “I’ll pass for now, thanks.”

  “It won’t hurt the baby or anything,” Raphael adds. “Trust me.”

  “Baby?” I glance at Deb’s kid, safe in Eve’s arms. Why would healing me do anything to affect the baby?

  “Not that baby,” Raphael says, setting a hand on my stomach. “This one.”

  Gasping, I smack him away.

  The expression Eve gives Dagon is priceless, and Mike claps, saying loudly, “Called it. Just want everyone to know, I called it. A while back, too.”

  My world spins. Me, a mother? Dagon, a father? Would the kid even be safe? Was Lucifer gone for good? I can’t have a kid while the world is still rebuilding—I glance at Dagon. A son. A Seraph son. Would he be born with horns and wings? I shiver just thinking about it.

  Really, it shouldn’t have shocked me. We did do it in the Fae realm…quite a few times. And he never pulled out before he, you know. Of course it was only a matter of time, but for goodness’s sakes, that was just yesterday! How does it work that fast? Am I going to pop him out in a week?

  “Raffe, come on,” Michael says, gesturing toward the sky. “We’ve done enough. Let them rebuild.”

  Raphael’s shoulders slump. It’s clear he wants to be in on the rebuilding—or maybe he just enjoys being ‘hip.’ “Fine. But I’ll be watching. And if this group doesn’t respect the arts like they did the sciences, I’m going to be really mad.” A pair of light grey wings appear, fifteen-feet wide, and after Michael takes off, he follows.

  When our group is along, I can’t help but feel everyone’s eyes on me. Eve, Mike, Dagon, Nat, Penny, Cloud—I’m sure David and Deb would be staring at me, too, if they were out here. Even the ones still alive from the town stand to the side, watching me, waiting for me to tell them what’s next.

  The thing is, I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know how to set up towns or build walls. All in all, I feel like I’m not the best leader.

  With my only hand on my hip, I say the first thing that comes to my mind: “How about that apocalypse, huh?”

  Epilogue

  This sucks.

  I stare at the ceiling, hard, willing lasers to shoot out of my eyes. The pain, oh, the pain. Sweat covers me—so much sweat that I feel like I’m a fountain. I squeeze my mom’s hand, my face red as I yell, “Where is that son of a bitch? Where is he? Where’s Dagon?”

  I feel like I want to die.

  My mom grimaces at the strength of my hand-holding, and she smooths my hair, trying to be motherly and calming, “He went out for some water.”

  “Water?” I roar. “That son of a bitch needs to see this—he—” I stifle a scream as Dagon walks in, a bucket of water in tow. I squeeze my mom
’s hand tighter, growling out, “You! You’re never doing this to me again. You hear me? Never!”

  Dagon sets the bucket on the ground, holding back barf as he sees my open legs.

  Athena pops her head up, smiling at me between my knees. “Head is breached. You’re doing fine, Champion.”

  I see Aphrodite rubbing Dagon’s back as he gags, and I yell, “No! Don’t comfort him! He needs to feel what I feel!”

  “What’s with all the shouting?” David walks in, burping his kid. “Surely you’re exaggerating…” He stops dead in his tracks, making Deb ram into his back. “That’s…wow.”

  Pushing with all my might, I whine through my sweat and tears, “I feel like I’m on fire.” The pain is so much, so great, that I don’t even comment on the fact that everybody and their brother is seeing my legs spread eagle and the disgusting scene between them.

  Athena laughs.

  She laughs.

  If I wasn’t giving birth at the moment, I’d strangle the godliness right off her.

  After what feels like ages—years and millennia of pushing and pain and feeling like I’m pissing myself—I hear crying, and Athena says, “Wonderful!” She works to clean it, him. My son. The thing I just pushed out of me. She cuts the chord as everyone else in the room is oddly quiet.

  Well, he’s crying, so that’s a good sign, right?

  I can hardly see through the sweat. I’m slow to release Eve’s hand, saying, “Why does everyone look like I gave birth to a baby with six eyes? I know babies are ugly, but—”

  Athena cradles the kid, walking over to me, smiling. Dagon finally draws near—the side of me missing a hand so I can’t grab him and punch him for being such a baby. “Congratulations to the new parents,” Athena says.

  “I feel like you should know,” David quips as the baby on his shoulder burps and throws up a bit. “That it wasn’t you who was on fire.”

  My “What?” is confused.

  “It was your daughter,” Athena further explains.

  This time, both Dagon and I say, “What?” We exchange glances. Athena sets the baby on my chest, and between the blanket’s folds, I see the mushy face of a newborn baby—I check—girl. The little tuffs of hair on her head smoke, and she quiets when her big, blue eyes look at me.

  In those eyes, I see a world of possibilities, a world of choice, a world of love.

  My eyes tear up for a whole different reason.

  “Somebody call a doctor,” David says with a smile, oblivious to the puke on his clothes. “She’s getting sappy.”

  With the baby firmly in one hand, I glance to Dagon. Dagon knows what to do. A lone finger rises, the middle, tallest one, and he shows it to David. “Imagine that’s from me,” I say.

  “Names, sugarplum?” Aphrodite asks.

  As my head runs through all the names I know, I can’t help but smile when I come upon the perfect name. And when I say it aloud, it sounds right. It feels right.

  This might be the end of my adventures, but for some little mini-me, it’s only the beginning.

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