CHAPTER 21: I CAN'T SMILE WITHOUT YOU

Time passed, as it always does.

It was four years after the demon incident; no other attacks had taken place after that. That was a mercy, anyhow; perhaps Hell thought better of trying to make a devil king out of someone who still proudly wore the cross of the Christ-followers.

Hellboy's lacerations had healed nicely. Lucine's face and hands were left unmarred; her tortures by fire rarely crossed her mind as the time between Bethmoora and now spun out, turning days into weeks and then into years.

Tom Manning was semi-retired from the Bureau. It was hard for the old agent to let go of his domain in Trenton but thanks to Lucine's successes, he no longer had to fret about his pension. He allowed himself one cigar a month. He also sneaked an occasional half-gallon of pistachio ice cream when he could get it past Lucine by hiding it behind the frozen Brussels sprouts, which she disliked. His ticker was holding up just fine and he no longer needed to stockpile Rolaids.

XXXXXXX

The Mannings had bought property on Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire several years ago, a lovely place that gave them the fresh air and solitude to enjoy life. Today was the Fourth of July and all the lake communities would have fireworks shows tonight. In the land of "live free or die," you could buy all the booze you wanted at the state liquor stores and shoot off legal fireworks to your heart's content. Tom had the foresight to invite an FBI friend who would do the honors tonight in his capacity as a certified demolitions expert. Everybody else would tear through the vast supply of liquor and the abundance of food. It was all good.

Somebody nearby with an IPod was playing "Life is a Grimm Tale Sometimes" by Tankus The Henge, and Lucine Malak'ha Manning danced her way across her huge lakeside yard, her sleeveless sundress swishing around her ankles, arms and black wings extended, their multiple eyes glittering from the water's reflection. Lizzie and Trevor tore past her, chasing a duck that had the misfortune to land nearby looking for bread. They shrieked with joy, acting as children usually do when excited by a day of play and food. Their parents frequently let them know when they were being part-devil or part-angel depending on their conduct, without either child realizing how true both statements really were.

"Don't go in the water!" the former Elizabeth Sherman cried from a little distance away. "Go find a piece of bread for that poor bird. Wait for me. We'll all go swimming after supper."

Liz and Red had finally gotten married in the world's only Catholic ceremony with a klezmer band at the reception, courtesy of the Mannings. Liz was expecting their third child and she had sworn Lucine to secrecy as to its sex.

"Your friend Hela blabbed to me about the twins and this time I'd actually like a surprise. Do I have to keep your mouth shut with duct tape, Angel Puss?" is how she had put it to her odd little friend.

Liz smiled at the recollection and stretched her sore back, enjoying the smell of cooking hamburgers and hotdogs; the large grills were tended by BPRD agents lucky enough to be chosen to provide security for the event. Some One World Trade Center executives were also in attendance, their moods lightened considerably by the success of Lucine's last advertising campaign:"We're growing like Chava – join us as part of the One World Trade Center family!"

A small dot appeared to her far left, and Liz turned to watch it approach.

Chava Ahuva Manning was Tom and Lucine's daughter, just three years old, for it was she who flew toward Liz. Chava had been a godsend to her parents, making them feel as fortunate as Abraham and Sarah in the Genesis story. The already-famous baby had sprouted wings some two months after her birth and it had bothered her no more than cutting her first tooth would a few months later. Lucine believed deeply that God had granted her this child to thank her for her centuries of devotion to her duties, as distasteful as they had been, and because He felt sorry for her ill treatment in both Heaven and Hell.

Tom ran toward the approaching child, acting as silly as men do who never thought they would be lucky enough to become fathers.

"Oh, look at the BABY! Where did it COME FROM? I think I'll KEEP IT!" he cried, holding out his arms.

With a whirl of small black wings and a squeal of joy, Chava made a perfect landing in her father's arms. He smiled at Liz and carried the little one off to join Lucine, who awaited them both. The angel's hair had turned silver after her daughter's birth and it hung in a thick braid which fell neatly between her two black wings. She worried about neither Heaven nor Hell these days, which had lifted a tremendous burden from her.

It had only taken Lucine the Messenger – once one of God's dark destroying angels – over twenty thousand years to realize that love is the only thing that never dies.

XXXXXX

Abe and Tzadkiel sat at a nearby picnic table; they had hardly been apart since that day in Lucine's apartment. Tzadkiel's act of compassion toward Lucine during the difficulties generated by the botched raid had changed her life profoundly; while she was not exactly a fallen angel, she wasn't exactly welcomed in Heaven either. Like Lucine, she had learned that the companionship and love of a wonderful man – no matter his species – was infinitely preferable to the politics of Heaven. Abe Sapien had been utterly smitten by her beauty, intelligence, and self-sacrifice, and – like his boss – he had been delighted to find in one of God's angels the most captivating creature he had ever encountered.

Tzadkiel had spent the last few years working at the B.P.R.D. and perfecting Abe's command of Enochian. For his part, Abe had since written several best-sellers containing fictionalized accounts of the lives of angels and demons; Lucine had bought them a condo with a specially-designed tank as a wedding gift. Suitably, Tzadkiel had learned to swim, which is more difficult to do with wings than one might think.

An older couple sat at a nearby picnic table enjoying the breeze coming off the lake. He was tall and rugged, with a graying full beard and long hair. The woman's hair had a deep side part and swooped over half her face, giving her an air of mystery. Of course, it was Hela and Ullr, who had interrupted their survey of a Colombian volcano called Galeras in order to attend. They sipped Absolut vodka and smiled at Lucine as she approached them with Chava wiggling in her arms, frantically seeking to take flight once again.

"I am so happy to see you both," the angel sighed. "If it hadn't been for you, dearest Mother Hel, I would have lain in the sand of my temple in Bethmoora, cut and burned to death. And but for you, dear Ullr, New York would have been lost to that terrorist bomb. I can never repay you with anything but my love, which you both have forever!"

Ullr grinned. "Love I like, but why don't you also repay me with a cheeseburger? Slop barbecue sauce all over it!"

Dropping Chava in Hela's arms with a laugh, Lucine turned and headed toward the grills. The Norse goddess smiled with delight, smoothing the tot's curly black hair and calling the child her own little Valkyrie.

XXXXXXX

Hellboy changed the selection on his IPod and let the refrain of Barry Manilow's "Can't Smile Without You" suffuse the late afternoon air. He watched Tom Manning loop Lucine around the waist and dance with her at the sound of it, her bare feet still clumsy on the green grass.

The song brought on an uncharacteristic yet overwhelming pang of nostalgia in Red's heart. Nostalgia with a touch of apprehension, perhaps; for the moment, at any event, Lucine's old prophecy had eluded him. Nobody could predict the future, of course, but hadn't Hela of Niflheim told him that she didn't put much credence in portents? Hellboy agreed. He had spent the ensuing years in the type of self-reflection that marks the beginning of maturity in any sort of being, and if he could describe how he felt these days, he would say that he was grateful for all of it.

Gratitude and maturity aside, however, Hellboy still bore a healthy streak of deviltry and a keen enjoyment of annoying Lucine, although it always resulted in swift retribution. He waited until she walked over to the grill before he let loose.

"Chow's ready!" he roared at the top of his considerable lungs.

Lucine shrieked, darting over to a table to grab a squeeze bottle of French's mustard. She spun around and pegged him neatly right off his chest, sending an arc of yellow across his face. It was an excellent shot and Lucine felt her customary surge of satisfaction.

"Hey, Lucine! What gives?" he grinned, feeling like the biggest kid at the cookout, which he no doubt was.

"They could hear you all the way down to Alton, Anung un Rama," she hissed. "We do have neighbors."

He threw his arm around her. "Together in Hell and maybe in Heaven too, if we're lucky. What's a little mustard between the two of us? In the meantime – whatever you say, Mom."

Barry Manilow's love song wove its way though the soft summer air as Hellboy and Lucine the Messenger swayed to the music, her arm hooked through his.

THE END