^ ^ ^ ^
A week passed since Loki had shown up on Bethany's doorstep looking for Bartleby. A lot had changed in the household since then.
Bartleby was up and around and was finally able to leave the sofa and stand on his own two feet. The gashes in his arm were healing nicely, but he still favored his tender ribs. He refused to see a doctor, assuring Loki and Bethany that he was fine and that it wasn't necessary to complicate matters by paying someone to tell him something he already knew: He had some cracked ribs. Nevertheless, Bartleby was regaining strength by the day.
Bethany was surprised to find that Loki and Bartleby had been living in a house only two blocks away for the past year and a half. In all that time, she never once crossed paths with them - she was certain she'd remember if she had. Neither of the ex-angels had a driver's license, so every day since becoming human they had walked three miles to and from work at the steel mill. After all, they had to find *some* way to make money to support themselves now that they were mortal beings.
All of them were still a bit shaken after the attack by the warlocks in the alleyway, so living arrangements had drastically changed. Bartleby didn't think it would be wise to leave Bethany and Grace unguarded at *any* time, so it was Loki's suggestion that either he or Bartleby remain at Bethany's house for the time being - for their protection, of course. But then worry arose that the warlocks may try to target either of the former angels if they were alone and vulnerable and easy prey. Surprising even herself, Bethany suggested that *both* Loki and Bartleby take up residence at her house until they could find out more about the missions of the warlocks and the agenda that Lucifer had for wanting Grace. Although a bit timid in his acceptance of moving in, Bartleby remained in the living room (he was becoming accustomed to sleeping on Bethany's couch anyway), and Loki moved into the guest bedroom.
Kirsten was still in the dark about the truth of who her new roommates really were, but she accepted them as old friends of Bethany's. She amorously explained that their company was a relief and she definitely felt safer with two "strong, handsome men" around to protect three innocent gals. Ever the hopeless romantic (or maybe just a fool for love), Kirsten, first, had her sights set on winning Bartleby's heart, but she soon found out that he was less than pleased with her attention and he always remained distant, withdrawn and shy towards everyone. So, in Kirsten's mind, the next logical thing to do was pursue Loki, whom she found to be funny and outgoing and talkative enough to hang on his every word as if he was a savior that constantly preached the Gospel. Bethany thought that Kirsten's crush on Loki was both disgusting and cute all at the same time . . . but maybe it wasn't for the best. A relationship should not be started in lies and Bethany didn't quite know how to tell Kirsten that she was swooning over the former Angel of Death. But as of right now, the budding courtship seemed harmless.
^ ^ ^ ^
Bethany was already having a tough day. She had decided earlier that she was going to make a big, home-cooked meal for everyone, but complications started the moment she put the roast in the oven.
It seemed that Grace was not in the best of moods. Her sad cries were heard for the past two hours and the streams of tears that flooded down her soft, rosy cheeks made Bethany feel as if she was a bad mother.
"I don't know what's wrong with her," Bethany said to Kirsten as the two of them continued to stir different pots of food that were simmering on the stove. "I tried to feed her; she's not hungry. I changed her diaper, so she's clean as a whistle. I checked her temperature; she doesn't have a fever, so I don't think she's sick."
"Maybe she's teething?" Loki suggested from his place at the kitchen table. He and Bartleby stayed out of the way as they watched Bethany and Kirsten work their domestic, motherly magic on the meal they were about to indulge in.
"That could be," Kirsten agreed. Not able to bear the child's cries any longer, Kirsten walked over to Grace and lifted her from the highchair, all the while trying to sooth and hush her sobs. It wasn't working. "What's wrong, babe?" Kirsten asked the child, almost expecting an informative answer from her. Grace answered with more tears.
With the ladies' attention fixed on Grace, both Bethany and Kirsten neglected to see that two pots on the stove had begun to boil over.
"Uh, Bethany?" Loki tried for their attention. No luck. "Yo! The food!" he shouted.
"What?" Bethany turned to the stove and gasped. She reached to turn off the burners and pulled the bubbling pots from the stovetop. She sighed in frustration, reaching for a dishcloth. "What a mess." The top of the stove looked like a war zone and the smell of burnt yams filtered through the air.
"I'll help you clean it up," Kirsten called to Bethany. Then she walked towards Bartleby, who had been busy reading a book and almost oblivious to what had just transpired in his surroundings. "Here," Kirsten said, and without warning, she plopped the wailing Grace onto Bartleby's lap. "Can you please hold her a sec?" Her question came off more as a command.
Bartleby looked horrified as he dropped his book and held onto the little bundle of weeping nerves that was just handed to him. For the past week he had done his best to stay as far away from Grace as he could; not because he didn't like the child, but because he sensed that Bethany was still wary of him and he respected the fact that she *should* be wary of him. After everything he had done in the past, Bartleby was shocked that Bethany let him remain in her home at all. So, the last thing that he wanted was to have Bethany's daughter dropped into his lap, entrusted to his care. It scared him, because right now, Bartleby wasn't even sure if he trusted himself.
Bethany and Kirsten continued to clean up the colorful chaos that had been splattered on the surface of the stove. Their shoulders began to ache from the scrubbing action that seemed to be doing a less than effective job of cleaning up. After a few seconds, Bethany stopped and just stared into space. Kirsten looked at her, confused.
"A little help here?" Kirsten pointed to the messy stove as she tried to get Bethany's attention.
"Do you hear that?" Bethany asked as her body turned towards the direction of the kitchen table where Loki and Bartleby were seated.
"Hear what?" Kirsten asked as she, too, looked in the same direction.
"Silence." Bethany spoke the word in a whisper.
Grace's cries had ceased. There were no more sounds of heart-wrenching baby sobs. Nothing.
Bartleby was too busy swapping smiles with Grace to notice that everyone in the small kitchen was staring at him. When he did finally look up, his smile faded and a look of guilt crossed his face. Immediately, he stood up and took a step towards Bethany and held Grace out to her. "Sorry," he said meekly as if he was sure he had done something wrong.
"No, no." Bethany shook her head and took a step back. "This is the first time she's been quiet for almost two hours." She smiled, letting Bartleby know that everything was alright. "You keep her."
Bartleby was unsure of what to do at first. Then the baby in his arms cooed and giggled as if she'd never been crying at all. Her tears were drying, and in their place was a beautiful smile that captured Bartleby's heart. He returned her smile.
"She likes you, B," Loki announced with a grin.
"Yeah," Bethany said softly. "She likes you." As she watched Bartleby with her child, Bethany felt her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't scared; it wasn't terror she was feeling. On the contrary, she was feeling something quite different than terror. Bethany was experiencing something she hadn't felt in a very long time . . .
^ ^ ^ ^
Bartleby was in a great mood as he walked along the deserted sidewalk towards town. He was headed to work on this fresh sunny morning. He and Loki decided to split time between work and staying home with Bethany and Grace. So, according to plan, Bartleby went to work today and Loki would be going tomorrow, and so on.
But Bartleby's spirits weren't high because he was headed to a long day's work. He was feeling good about what happened between him and Grace yesterday. The fact that the child *liked* him, made Bartleby feel a little more at ease with his place in humanity. For the past year and a half, he drove himself crazy wondering why God had put him back on this earth and as a human, no less. What had he done to deserve nothing less than eternity in Hell? Bartleby figured that's where he was headed when his time as an angel ceased to exist. But instead, after having his head blown to smithereens by God, he awoke next to Loki: the angel (and friend) he had killed. Bartleby thought that, in itself, was messed up. Why was he sent to earth to live with someone he supposedly murdered? He didn't feel he belonged here . . . at least he didn't until yesterday. Things were looking up; turning around. Maybe his life as a mortal wouldn't be so bad after all.
And that's when Bartleby saw him. The blood-red shirt and bald head shimmering in the morning sunlight were unmistakable. A warlock.
The Devil's minion was entering a small ranch house, painted pale yellow with white shutters. It was only about three houses down from where Bartleby was now standing. Bartleby was sure the warlock hadn't seen him as he watched the unsightly, human-like creature disappear through the front door of the house.
Bartleby was surprised to see a warlock out in plain sight in broad daylight. Earlier, he was quite certain that he and Loki would be safe as they walked to work, alone, as long as the sun was shining. Now he wasn't so sure.
And then someone screamed. It was a female, ear-piercing scream and Bartleby was sure it emanated from inside the yellow house that the warlock had just entered.
Something was not right. Bartleby felt the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. The slight breeze that was whistling through the trees earlier had stopped and the air became thick and stale. Regardless of what his intuition was telling him, Bartleby knew he had to help whoever was screaming . . . and he bolted towards the pale yellow ranch house.
Upon reaching the front steps of the house, Bartleby paused. He was still weak from his past encounter with the warlocks. He knew that his chances of entering the house and saving the victim without another tussle with a warlock were slim to none. But he *had* to try. The angel side of him was still buried deep in his subconscious and it wouldn't let him just walk away.
He took a deep breath and slowly opened the front door.
Bartleby took two careless steps inside and stopped dead in his tracks. Surrounding him were no less than eight warlocks - eyes like cold steel and menacing grins lacking the slightest warmth. No screaming victim in sight - there never was one. Bartleby knew he had taken the bait and had fallen headfirst into their trap. But their presence was not what caused the blood coursing through Bartleby's veins to turn to liquid ice. His eyes were focused on a powerful entity that stood in the middle of the room . . . and at that moment, nothing else existed.
She was pale, but not sickly. Her skin was like pallid cream and looked to be as soft as a rose petal to the touch. Her long flowing hair cascaded down her back like black waves of the churning sea during a midnight storm. Her body was sinuously perfect in every detail, shaming any other female who stood in her company. But her eyes are what held Bartleby's gaze. Her eyes were as green as oak leaves in summer, but cast a spell of sinking fear that burned a black hole into the farthest reaches of Bartleby's heart.
With a single breath that blazed in Bartleby's lungs, he hissed her name as if it pained him to speak it.
"Lucifer."
^ ^ ^ ^
A week passed since Loki had shown up on Bethany's doorstep looking for Bartleby. A lot had changed in the household since then.
Bartleby was up and around and was finally able to leave the sofa and stand on his own two feet. The gashes in his arm were healing nicely, but he still favored his tender ribs. He refused to see a doctor, assuring Loki and Bethany that he was fine and that it wasn't necessary to complicate matters by paying someone to tell him something he already knew: He had some cracked ribs. Nevertheless, Bartleby was regaining strength by the day.
Bethany was surprised to find that Loki and Bartleby had been living in a house only two blocks away for the past year and a half. In all that time, she never once crossed paths with them - she was certain she'd remember if she had. Neither of the ex-angels had a driver's license, so every day since becoming human they had walked three miles to and from work at the steel mill. After all, they had to find *some* way to make money to support themselves now that they were mortal beings.
All of them were still a bit shaken after the attack by the warlocks in the alleyway, so living arrangements had drastically changed. Bartleby didn't think it would be wise to leave Bethany and Grace unguarded at *any* time, so it was Loki's suggestion that either he or Bartleby remain at Bethany's house for the time being - for their protection, of course. But then worry arose that the warlocks may try to target either of the former angels if they were alone and vulnerable and easy prey. Surprising even herself, Bethany suggested that *both* Loki and Bartleby take up residence at her house until they could find out more about the missions of the warlocks and the agenda that Lucifer had for wanting Grace. Although a bit timid in his acceptance of moving in, Bartleby remained in the living room (he was becoming accustomed to sleeping on Bethany's couch anyway), and Loki moved into the guest bedroom.
Kirsten was still in the dark about the truth of who her new roommates really were, but she accepted them as old friends of Bethany's. She amorously explained that their company was a relief and she definitely felt safer with two "strong, handsome men" around to protect three innocent gals. Ever the hopeless romantic (or maybe just a fool for love), Kirsten, first, had her sights set on winning Bartleby's heart, but she soon found out that he was less than pleased with her attention and he always remained distant, withdrawn and shy towards everyone. So, in Kirsten's mind, the next logical thing to do was pursue Loki, whom she found to be funny and outgoing and talkative enough to hang on his every word as if he was a savior that constantly preached the Gospel. Bethany thought that Kirsten's crush on Loki was both disgusting and cute all at the same time . . . but maybe it wasn't for the best. A relationship should not be started in lies and Bethany didn't quite know how to tell Kirsten that she was swooning over the former Angel of Death. But as of right now, the budding courtship seemed harmless.
^ ^ ^ ^
Bethany was already having a tough day. She had decided earlier that she was going to make a big, home-cooked meal for everyone, but complications started the moment she put the roast in the oven.
It seemed that Grace was not in the best of moods. Her sad cries were heard for the past two hours and the streams of tears that flooded down her soft, rosy cheeks made Bethany feel as if she was a bad mother.
"I don't know what's wrong with her," Bethany said to Kirsten as the two of them continued to stir different pots of food that were simmering on the stove. "I tried to feed her; she's not hungry. I changed her diaper, so she's clean as a whistle. I checked her temperature; she doesn't have a fever, so I don't think she's sick."
"Maybe she's teething?" Loki suggested from his place at the kitchen table. He and Bartleby stayed out of the way as they watched Bethany and Kirsten work their domestic, motherly magic on the meal they were about to indulge in.
"That could be," Kirsten agreed. Not able to bear the child's cries any longer, Kirsten walked over to Grace and lifted her from the highchair, all the while trying to sooth and hush her sobs. It wasn't working. "What's wrong, babe?" Kirsten asked the child, almost expecting an informative answer from her. Grace answered with more tears.
With the ladies' attention fixed on Grace, both Bethany and Kirsten neglected to see that two pots on the stove had begun to boil over.
"Uh, Bethany?" Loki tried for their attention. No luck. "Yo! The food!" he shouted.
"What?" Bethany turned to the stove and gasped. She reached to turn off the burners and pulled the bubbling pots from the stovetop. She sighed in frustration, reaching for a dishcloth. "What a mess." The top of the stove looked like a war zone and the smell of burnt yams filtered through the air.
"I'll help you clean it up," Kirsten called to Bethany. Then she walked towards Bartleby, who had been busy reading a book and almost oblivious to what had just transpired in his surroundings. "Here," Kirsten said, and without warning, she plopped the wailing Grace onto Bartleby's lap. "Can you please hold her a sec?" Her question came off more as a command.
Bartleby looked horrified as he dropped his book and held onto the little bundle of weeping nerves that was just handed to him. For the past week he had done his best to stay as far away from Grace as he could; not because he didn't like the child, but because he sensed that Bethany was still wary of him and he respected the fact that she *should* be wary of him. After everything he had done in the past, Bartleby was shocked that Bethany let him remain in her home at all. So, the last thing that he wanted was to have Bethany's daughter dropped into his lap, entrusted to his care. It scared him, because right now, Bartleby wasn't even sure if he trusted himself.
Bethany and Kirsten continued to clean up the colorful chaos that had been splattered on the surface of the stove. Their shoulders began to ache from the scrubbing action that seemed to be doing a less than effective job of cleaning up. After a few seconds, Bethany stopped and just stared into space. Kirsten looked at her, confused.
"A little help here?" Kirsten pointed to the messy stove as she tried to get Bethany's attention.
"Do you hear that?" Bethany asked as her body turned towards the direction of the kitchen table where Loki and Bartleby were seated.
"Hear what?" Kirsten asked as she, too, looked in the same direction.
"Silence." Bethany spoke the word in a whisper.
Grace's cries had ceased. There were no more sounds of heart-wrenching baby sobs. Nothing.
Bartleby was too busy swapping smiles with Grace to notice that everyone in the small kitchen was staring at him. When he did finally look up, his smile faded and a look of guilt crossed his face. Immediately, he stood up and took a step towards Bethany and held Grace out to her. "Sorry," he said meekly as if he was sure he had done something wrong.
"No, no." Bethany shook her head and took a step back. "This is the first time she's been quiet for almost two hours." She smiled, letting Bartleby know that everything was alright. "You keep her."
Bartleby was unsure of what to do at first. Then the baby in his arms cooed and giggled as if she'd never been crying at all. Her tears were drying, and in their place was a beautiful smile that captured Bartleby's heart. He returned her smile.
"She likes you, B," Loki announced with a grin.
"Yeah," Bethany said softly. "She likes you." As she watched Bartleby with her child, Bethany felt her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't scared; it wasn't terror she was feeling. On the contrary, she was feeling something quite different than terror. Bethany was experiencing something she hadn't felt in a very long time . . .
^ ^ ^ ^
Bartleby was in a great mood as he walked along the deserted sidewalk towards town. He was headed to work on this fresh sunny morning. He and Loki decided to split time between work and staying home with Bethany and Grace. So, according to plan, Bartleby went to work today and Loki would be going tomorrow, and so on.
But Bartleby's spirits weren't high because he was headed to a long day's work. He was feeling good about what happened between him and Grace yesterday. The fact that the child *liked* him, made Bartleby feel a little more at ease with his place in humanity. For the past year and a half, he drove himself crazy wondering why God had put him back on this earth and as a human, no less. What had he done to deserve nothing less than eternity in Hell? Bartleby figured that's where he was headed when his time as an angel ceased to exist. But instead, after having his head blown to smithereens by God, he awoke next to Loki: the angel (and friend) he had killed. Bartleby thought that, in itself, was messed up. Why was he sent to earth to live with someone he supposedly murdered? He didn't feel he belonged here . . . at least he didn't until yesterday. Things were looking up; turning around. Maybe his life as a mortal wouldn't be so bad after all.
And that's when Bartleby saw him. The blood-red shirt and bald head shimmering in the morning sunlight were unmistakable. A warlock.
The Devil's minion was entering a small ranch house, painted pale yellow with white shutters. It was only about three houses down from where Bartleby was now standing. Bartleby was sure the warlock hadn't seen him as he watched the unsightly, human-like creature disappear through the front door of the house.
Bartleby was surprised to see a warlock out in plain sight in broad daylight. Earlier, he was quite certain that he and Loki would be safe as they walked to work, alone, as long as the sun was shining. Now he wasn't so sure.
And then someone screamed. It was a female, ear-piercing scream and Bartleby was sure it emanated from inside the yellow house that the warlock had just entered.
Something was not right. Bartleby felt the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. The slight breeze that was whistling through the trees earlier had stopped and the air became thick and stale. Regardless of what his intuition was telling him, Bartleby knew he had to help whoever was screaming . . . and he bolted towards the pale yellow ranch house.
Upon reaching the front steps of the house, Bartleby paused. He was still weak from his past encounter with the warlocks. He knew that his chances of entering the house and saving the victim without another tussle with a warlock were slim to none. But he *had* to try. The angel side of him was still buried deep in his subconscious and it wouldn't let him just walk away.
He took a deep breath and slowly opened the front door.
Bartleby took two careless steps inside and stopped dead in his tracks. Surrounding him were no less than eight warlocks - eyes like cold steel and menacing grins lacking the slightest warmth. No screaming victim in sight - there never was one. Bartleby knew he had taken the bait and had fallen headfirst into their trap. But their presence was not what caused the blood coursing through Bartleby's veins to turn to liquid ice. His eyes were focused on a powerful entity that stood in the middle of the room . . . and at that moment, nothing else existed.
She was pale, but not sickly. Her skin was like pallid cream and looked to be as soft as a rose petal to the touch. Her long flowing hair cascaded down her back like black waves of the churning sea during a midnight storm. Her body was sinuously perfect in every detail, shaming any other female who stood in her company. But her eyes are what held Bartleby's gaze. Her eyes were as green as oak leaves in summer, but cast a spell of sinking fear that burned a black hole into the farthest reaches of Bartleby's heart.
With a single breath that blazed in Bartleby's lungs, he hissed her name as if it pained him to speak it.
"Lucifer."
^ ^ ^ ^