CHAPTER 7: BABIES AND THE BAYONNE BRIDGE

The corridor outside Elizabeth Sherman's hospital room was swamped with organization people waiting to welcome the newcomers. Members of the crowd stepped aside when Lucine and Tom approached.

"It's like Moses parting the Red Sea," Lucine muttered.

"And you were there, of course," Tom quipped.

"As a matter of fact, I was," Lucine replied.

He looked at her with his eyes wide; he had meant it as a joke. Having a relationship with an entity thousands of years old was a source of continuous delight and amazement to him.

Lucine moved carefully, conscious of her new wings. She was not happy about them; her back and shoulders were still sore to the touch and she was sorry about having to give Liz her brand new black leather jacket. "Perhaps they're letting us go in first because they respect your position of authority."

Tom laughed. "Me? Respect from that enormous red lug nut in there?" He thumbed toward the entrance to the private hospital room. "You must be dreaming. I expect they're standing aside because of your eight-foot wingspan." He nodded to the people to his right and left.

Lucine resisted the urge to snap her wings outward just because it would have felt good. "They should respect such a pure soul," she replied. "There are so few of you."

"Hey! I was hoping you two would show up," former agent Hellboy crowed at them, holding a beer and waving it in their general direction. "Wanna brewski? I'd offer you a cigar but they won't let me smoke in here." Tom patted his chest pocket to signify that he already had cigars; Lucine wrinkled her nose. Both followed Hellboy into the room.

Liz sat smiling in her hospital bed. "You look adorable," she said to Lucine. "You rock those wings! Meet Trevor and little Liz."

Both children, who lay in a clear plastic bassinet next to the bed, looked perfectly normal and perfectly charming. Lucine could see their demon blood clearly but said nothing.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Manning asked Liz.

"Pretty good, considering," she replied, and then gestured to Lucine. "Would you like to hold them?"

Lucine shook her head. "No, it's all right. Let them rest."

Liz and Red chuckled but were secretly relieved that an angel of death would not be touching their infants. Tom sensed their relief and it annoyed him. "Actually, former Agent Hellboy, you have nothing to fear from Lucine. She's always been your guardian, and I'm sure she will protect your children as well."

"What did I say?" Red growled, waving his unlit cigar. "What?" His patience with Dr. Manning had run out some time ago.

"Just remember that she was there at every crossroad of your life to watch over you," Tom replied. "Like when you were a baby surrounded by demons."

Red winced. "And – um, she – looked after me? Oh man." He looked uneasily at the woman with the big wings and the even bigger scowl. "I mean, no disrespect, Lucine, but back when we first became acquainted you looked like the dog's dinner."

"Well, that was rude," Tom snapped. "You obviously have no appreciation for a kind being who saved your life who knows how many times. And frankly, I wouldn't talk about the dog's dinner if I were you."

A scuffle might have ensued had it not been for Lucine's stepping in between these two alpha males and breaking their eye contact. Besides, not being fully human, she did not possess an inflated ego and Red's remark had little effect on her.

"I do not understand why humans believe that ugliness means evil and beauty means goodness. It is not so. As for me, it is true that I was once more glorious in appearance than I was when I saw you. I had no mirrors and had no idea, and quite frankly did not and do not care. My business is souls, not bodies. However, I was your protector throughout your life even though you could not see me," Lucine continued. "although I must have been out of my mind to protect hell-spawn."

At this, Liz laughed out loud.

At his best, Red was not particularly good at subtlety. The thought of a death angel tending to him gave him the shivers and he did not hide it well. "Just saying, it's not like you were my – mom, or something," he muttered.

"Heaven forbid," Lucine sniffed. "Yours, of course, was dead and no good to you."

"That's right, Red," Liz said rather sharply, following the gist of the conversation with some interest.

There were a few moments of silence.

"Give her a hug, Red," Liz said solemnly.

"What? Why?" He gestured madly, nearly slopping beer on the assembled visitors.

"Do it!"

Tom nearly gave himself a rupture suppressing at least five minutes of gut-busting laughter. Lucine gave the demon what is sometimes referred to as the stink-eye.

With a tremendous eye roll, Hellboy walked over to her. "Thanks – I guess." He barely touched her shoulder with his fingertips and squeezed it gingerly. "Um, like – a mom. Sort of."

"I knew the word would stick in your throat," Lucine replied. "You have no idea of all the terrible things that would have happened if you hadn't made the right choices."

"Yeah, whatever," Red replied, uncomfortable with the topic and wishing mightily that he could talk about cigars, or fighting, or beer. Or all three. He looked at Tom for help and found none; his former boss was obviously enjoying his discomfort.

In spite of herself, Liz asked Lucine the question she had wondered about for some time. "What would you do if Red ever ended up back in Hell?"

Lucine the Messenger smiled her unearthly smile. "As a human being, I could do nothing. But as an angel, I would steal him back from those who would suck his soul away. After all, I've done it before."

XXXXXX

It was 2:17 AM and Dr. Manning was sound asleep. Lucine moved quietly across the plush bedroom carpet and opened the sliding doors that led onto the balcony. She then looked down.

Well, you can fall straight down and create a giant grease spot, she thought to herself. Or you can soar across this city and these rivers and go wherever you like without being worried about traffic!

She walked out onto the balcony, relishing the feel of the cold wind on her skin, and then stepped up upon an ornamental white lawn chair. She placed one foot gingerly on the balcony railing. Then the other.

She let out her breath, prayed a brief prayer, spread her wings, and fell forward.

She

dropped

down

with a stomach-twisting lurch but then her wings caught the air as they always had and lifted her, suddenly and wonderfully, up and over the rooftop of the apartment building next door.

Tom had played a beautiful piece of music for her earlier that night – it was Debussy's Claire De Lune – and it resonated through her as the music in her head matched the beauty of her movements. At that moment, she felt as lovely as she had when she was new and humankind was young. Her heart filled with gratitude and the tears that fell from her eyes were carried off into the slipstream created by her wings.

Her eyes – somehow seeming sharper than they had been only hours ago – focused on a bridge quite a distance away. There was something about its shape that charmed her and drew her to it. With a sudden and joyful burst of energy, off she went, ripping through the clear air like a falcon.

There was silence in the dark apartment.

Tom – who had awakened a few minutes before and had silently watched her – now stood at the balcony window with his hand over his mouth.

He stood there for a full minute with his heart pounding, wrestling with the concept that this glorious creature was perhaps not meant for him after all; that with one snap of her black wings she could be lost to him forever.

He was not surprised to realize that there were tears in his eyes.

After a while, he picked up his cell phone and officially informed the New York Flight Standards District Office, the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, and the Office of Homeland Security that Lucine the Messenger posed neither a hazard to navigation nor a threat to the nation's security.

XXXXXX

Several hours later, Dr. Manning received a call from the Port Authority Police.

"Excuse me sir," the officer said. "There's someone here who says she knows you."

Tom closed his eyes for just a second, the surge of relief causing his heart to race. "Is she in custody?"

"Not exactly. It's not every day that we spot a winged woman sitting on top of the Bayonne Bridge."

Tom nearly burst out laughing, but caught himself in time. "I did call you people. You do realize that the – winged woman – is a special operative of our agency."

"Yes, sir. I was briefed."

"Top secret, officer."

"Yes, sir; we're aware."

"TOP."

Tom waited a few moments for it to sink in while he mustered up every bit of official intimidation he possessed.

"How did she get down?" he asked sternly.

"Well, after we pulled off the automatic weapons, she told us that she would be happy to come down on her own if we had coffee."

"I see," Tom replied sternly while repressing a grin. Lucine did love her Starbucks.

"Uh, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Is she a – sort of – Homeland Security weapon of some sort?"

"That is exactly right. Put her on the phone. And this conversation never happened."

Tom was relieved to hear her voice. "Are they treating you all right?"

"Their coffee is awful. They had no sugar. None at all. Can you come get me? I am terribly sorry to be an inconvenience, but I got rather tired and sat down on that bridge. I found it quite lovely. They were very upset with me."

"I'll have to show you the Tom Cruise version of "War of the Worlds"."

"Why?"

"The aliens blew up the Bayonne Bridge in the movie."

"But not for real."

"No, Lucine, not for real. It was a movie."

"I am not an alien."

"No, my darling, but you are a winged angel hybrid and that is right next door to alien in the eyes of the law. Hold on, and I'll send a chopper to pick you up. Put the nice officer back on the phone so I can find out where you're being held."

"I am not being held. I was very cold and they gave me a blanket."

Tom suppressed a smirk, although since he was by himself he didn't need to. Lucine could be very literal.

The police officer came back on the line and gave him the necessary information. "Um, sir?" the officer added. "I might be out of line here as I know that this conversation is classified – but is – she – America's defense against future terrorist attacks?"

Tom grinned and gave his sarcasm wide rein, although it was lost on the hapless cop.

"Yep. That's right. The United States government has the entire Heavenly Host on the payroll. The whole entire frapping Heavenly Host. Do you understand? Now, send someone out and get my operative a Frappucino. On the double!"

"Yes, sir!"

XXXXXX

It was nearly dawn before Lucine and Tom were safely ensconced back in the condo. Tom couldn't sleep due to the incident; Lucine due to the caffeine.

He had no idea how many thousands of New Yorkers had seen her; photographed her; sold their photos to the New York Times or the New York Post or the New York Daily News or the National Enquirer or Star Magazine or heaven knows how many other media outlets by now. His brain was already working on a cover story.

An experimental jet pack?

An ultralight aircraft?

Or how about a good old fashioned mal'ach hamavet? Sure! Why not?

When in doubt, tell the truth!

Or not!

Tom mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "You know, sweet one, people are a little – twitchy about things flying around in the sky these days," Tom informed her.

"I do not understand why," Lucine replied sharply. "Angels have been well known for thousands of years."

Tom sighed and went over to the flat-screen TV, selecting a DVD from the nearby bookshelf and putting it in the player. "I would like you to watch this. It is about something that happened back in 2001. We call it Nine-Eleven. It was a horrible thing, and this is why you can't just open our balcony doors and take off."

Lucine spent the next hour watching CNN's "America Remembers".

She then spent the next hour weeping in Tom's arms.

As a result, they were both late to work.