Sunday.

Pretending everything was hunky-dory for the remainder of the week proved easier than Nella thought it would be. She just had to focus on something (anything) else. And like a knight in shining armour, Tate had swooped in to serve as her distraction. Nella didn't quite want to admit how smitten she was with the ghost boy. Or how much she loved his kisses. Or how much she loved cuddling with him at night. But she would admit that she loved his help during the day. And it was admittedly cute when Michael came over again in a little suit (that Constance had no doubt picked for him) to help them both.

It was a hot, sunny afternoon and Nella had on a while flowy sundress that moved with every step she took. With her long blonde hair down and the jewels on her fingers glittering as she prepped tea, Tate could have sworn she was an angel. And maybe she was. Maybe she was his angel. And Michael's.

Nella heard the doorbell ring and opened it to find Constance in her own white ensemble. "Great minds think alike," Nella chirped, making room to let the other woman in. "If you want to grab the cups and saucers, I have everything else. I set up the gazeebo for us."

Nella spotted the unmistakable look of smugness on her face. "Of course, dear." Nella figured it was because Moira's body was underneath it. In truth, Constance probably had more claim to this house than she did. Plus, she seemed to be the only person to have survived it.

The pair set up on the gazeebo, chatting amiably about everything and nothing. Nella wisely stayed away from the topic of Michael for the moment; that discussion would come up soon enough. When both women were seated and sipping on sweetened tea, a silence settled over them.

Constance put her cup down and folder her hands in her lap. Nella took her cue and also put hers down. "Why would I be in danger?" she asked.

"That little boy is not what you think he is," Constance answered, still not looking up from her folded hands.

"I figured," Nella said, taking another sip. "But what does that have to do with me?"

Constance seemed to hesitate, as though she decided against warning Nella after all. Just about as the younger woman was about to dismiss the conversation altogether she began. "That house…and the ghosts inside of it created that little boy. The son of human and spirit. Oh, you know, I'm not very good at describing this," she said with a bashful smile. "Billy Dean does it so much better."

Nella cocked her head. "You mean that Medium with the television show?"

"That's the one," she answered. Finally, Constance looked up and Nella could see a fierce determination…paired with a fear in her eyes. "My grandson is the Antichrist. And the reason we've both survived that hell hole is because we're needed to raise him. Because I'm too soft, and you're too good." She picked up her cup again, her fingers trembling as she took a dainty sip. "But I'm afraid I might not be needed for much longer."

Nella felt a chill run down her spine as she spotted Constance's eyes glazing over with unshed tears. She was afraid for her life. And Nella was afraid for her too. "What do we do?" Nella asked eventually.

Constance laughed bitterly, blinking away her grief. "What can we do? I couldn't kill that boy, and I know you couldn't either." She reached over the table, capturing Nella's hands in her own. "Promise me. Promise that when I'm gone, you'll teach that boy to be good. Like you. Show him the evil isn't worth what it says."

"Constance, you're not going to—"

"Promise me."

Desperation. That was the only word that came to mind when Nella looked at Constance. "I promise," she answered back in a whisper. Nella could feel her own tears gathering in her eyes. If what Constance said was true, she was about to lose another ally against the growing darkness.

"Oh, now come, dear," the older woman tutted. "Don't you cry for me yet. I'm still here for now." She pulled out what looked like a kerchief and handed it to Nella to pat away the moisture. "You're a survivor, Nella. You survived losing your family, and you'll survive losing me." Nella watched her gaze linger at one of the windows. "And with any luck, you'll survive this house too."

When Nella turned, Tate was watching them through the window.

By the time Constance left, the sun was already dipping into the horizon. She left excusing herself, saying that she needed to feed Michael. The Antichrist. Well, it would certainly explain things, Nella mused. And if what Constance said about her role was true, she was going to need to read up on the myth. Not that it was really a myth if it were real and living next door.

For now, Nella was determined to make the most of the still-warm night. Before Constance came over, and during her shopping trip, Nella bought herself a few nice things for her beautiful back yard, specifically the gazeebo. Despite the reason it was built (and what was under it) Nella quite liked having it.

She moved the small patio set off to the side and began working on stringing the strands of tiny fairy lights around the posts. Some of the ghosts watched curiously as she worked and wondered what was in all the large bags the woman carried out. Once the lights were strung to her satisfaction, Nella pulled from the biggest bag a large, plush blanket in an abstract black and white and laid it out on the floor of the gazeebo. It was a good fit, despite it draping over the edges a little. The remainder of the bags she tipped upside down and emptied in a pile. Throw pillows of every shape, vibrant colour, and size littered the area and Nella started setting them up around the railing.

Dusk was about to give way to the night when she walked over with the extension cord and plugged in the lights, lighting up the whole set up. Nella took a step back and grinned, admiring her handiwork with her hands on her hips.

"I knew you were an angel," said the now familiar voice of Tate behind her.

Nella glanced over her shoulder and smiled before turning back to face the set-up, "As flattering as that is, I'm no angel Tate."

She could feel his arms warp around her waist from behind and his head rested on top of hers. He liked that she could tuck perfectly into his chest. "Who else could bring heaven to Earth?" he asked.

"Me," she answered nonchalantly. "It's my magic power," she teased.

She grabbed one of his hands and unwound his arms, pulling him along behind her towards the gazeebo. Nella stooped to lounge on the small mountain of cushions and dragged Tate down with her, causing him to land half on top with one of his knees between her legs. They laughed at the awkward fall, but Nella was blushing deeply due to the intimate position. He didn't move as their laughter died down, opting to hover over her and stare into her eyes and the twinkling reflection of the lights in them.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" he asked, causing Nella to break eye contact shyly and blush even redder.

"Not that I can remember," she murmured back quietly.

Tate cupped her chin with one hand, tilting her head upwards so that she would meet his gaze again. When she did, he said softly, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known, Nella. Inside and out."

Nella's lips parted, but for the life of her, she couldn't come up with anything to say. So instead, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled up to plant a kiss on his mouth. Tate responded hungrily, lowering himself so that she was leaning back on the pillows again and his weight was partially on top of hers. Their lips moved in tandem, creating a rhythm that left Nella dizzy and short of breath.

On an impulse as she went to kiss his bottom lip, she decided to suckle it and give it a quick nip. Nella felt a wave of arousal hit her when Tate growled in response and kissed her harder in turn. Nella's hands roamed down to the hem of his shirt, slipping it up so she could feel his cool skin. In turn, the hand that he had at her waist wandered lower, stroking her thigh. Nella could feel his hand slipping under her skirt and would have let out a breathy moan if not for the loud rustle in the bushes that snapped them both out of their passionate musings.

The foliage ruffled a little and out came tumbling Michael, looking no worse for wear and quite pleased with himself. Nella and Tate quickly righted themselves as Michael ran over, not waiting for an invitation before he hopped onto the plush gazeebo and planted himself between the two. Nella would have laughed at the boy's antics if she didn't think she was just about to get laid.

Still, Nella sighed and stroked Michael's hair as he settled on the pillows between them. "Isn't it past your bed time, Little Man?"

Michael gave a little shrug and smiled at her. Then, cheerily he started, "Grandma had an accident."