The door opened onto a playground. It was identical in almost every respect to the one closest to the Carpenter house. Sometimes, when Mom and Dad were sick, Daniel and I would drag the rest of the Jawas out to the nearest park so they could nap. Sunlight slanted through the leafy green canopy, giving the whole place an intimate, homey feel.
Once more, childish laughter drifted to me on a gentle breeze. My heart threw itself violently against my ribs, and I turned back the way I'd come, expecting to find the door we'd stepped through. It only brought me face-to-face with Id Molly, who'd swapped her office attire out for an entirely unsuitable sundress. The hair loose around her shoulders didn't do a damn thing to soften the sharp angles of her face. She shoved me back the way I'd come.
"Oh no you don't. We're doing this tonight."
"I can't," I whispered. "I can't do it. I'm not Charity Carpenter. I wouldn't be a fit mother to a human baby, let alone two children I spawned with a freaking fallen angel!"
She pushed her face close to mine, jabbing a sharp finger into my sternum. "You decided to get snuggly with Lasciel, and now they're here. They're kids with a lot of knowledge and no clue what to do with it. Assuming you survive this, they're going to need guidance. You sure as hell don't want them looking to their other mom for an idea of how they should behave."
"What do you mean?"
Id Molly leaned away from me, rubbing her temples in frustration. "God, you're supposed to be smarter than this. Haven't you bothered to check in with Ms. Spock of late? They're made from bits of your soul and some of Lasciel's essence. That means they're spirits of intellect."
I'd known that last part for a while now, but it hadn't clicked until she'd put it that way. Probably because I'd been doing my damnedest not to think about the fact I was pregnant. It came with an absurd sense of guilt; born out of all the lectures I'd gotten from Mom about teenage pregnancy. Technically, I'd gotten knocked up somewhere around fifteen or sixteen years old, and by a female-presenting entity no less. Angels didn't technically have genders, but it was always the way she'd appeared to me and others. Did that technically make the baby spirits our lesbian love children?
"So...they're like Bob. Little encyclopedias."
"Yes," she said in the harassed tones of a teacher whose student finally understood the point. "And Butters stressed that he's sort of vague on the whole good vs evil thing. His allegiance is to whoever holds his skull. The last time he fell into the hands of someone wearing a black hat, he helped a cadre of necromancers wreak untold havoc. The difference? Bob has memories on which to base some of his fuzzy morality. The twins don't."
I felt the blood drain out of my face, and a chill gripped me as her meaning sank in. "If they fall into the wrong hands..."
"Some big bad will have a pair of extremely moldable pet monsters on a leash. They know a lot of what Lasciel knows but they have no filter. You need to talk to them now and impart a few life lessons before they pull a Kool-Aid Man on your skull."
I winced at the image, then glanced over my shoulder. The rest of the Council had gathered in the shelter house, arranging the traditional Midwestern fixings for a picnic. They seemed to sense my stare and turned as one to face me with somber expressions. I met each of their eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and nodded.
Id Molly let out a shrill whistle and then called, "C'mon rugrats! It's time."
The peals of laughter died off, replaced by the sound of small, running feet. My heart lurched to a sudden stop before resuming double time a moment later. It didn't matter that I'd agreed to this. I wasn't ready. I wasn't sure I'd ever be ready. Normal parents had nine months to get used to the idea that they were going to have a child. Longer, if the pregnancy had been planned. I'd had two little ones sheltering somewhere in my noggin for years and I was only made aware after it was too late to do anything proactive about it. Yes, I'd been under mental siege most of the time they'd been inside me, but still. Would it have killed the Council to drop a few breadcrumbs?
The little footsteps fell silent a moment later and an eager tension filled the air around us. There was something very...pure about the feeling. It was like sunshine wrapped around the sound of a baby's gurgle, something you just couldn't help but smile at. That feeling was what allowed me to marshal the screaming panic and turn very slowly to face the two figures standing behind me.
They looked around ten years old. The boy was taller than the girl by a few inches, though something in her bearing made me instinctively view her as older than her brother. She stood a little straighter and held her shoulders back in perfect posture while her brother remained relaxed.
She was undeniably beautiful. She looked like Lasciel's avatar at first glance, with long, wildly curling red hair and freckles, but when I looked closer, I saw that was where the resemblance ended. Every part of her was familiar, drawn from people who'd had a hand in shaping me. There was something of my father in the shape of her face though the jawline and the curve of her lips belonged to Nicodemus. The nose was Harry's and the cheekbones belonged to Fix. But it was the eyes that gave me pause. They were the faded green of old dollar bills.
Marcone's eyes. I shifted my gaze to her brother hastily, trying not to think about what that implied about my psyche.
The boy would have looked at home in the Carpenter home. Dark, wavy hair and the strong face shape. The eyes were Lily's, warm and somehow conveying a deep sense of compassion without a word being spoken. He had my mother's generous mouth, Hannah's nose, and a copy of Lasciel's freckles. There was something softer about the boy, and I couldn't help but be drawn to it. He offered me a nervous smile when he caught sight of my expression.
It was the smile that did it. Something in me just...shifted. My world tilted a little off its axis, and some cosmic puzzle piece slid into place, and it was suddenly real. I was a mom. I had a son and a daughter, even if I'd never hold them in my arms physically. They were mine, concrete and beloved.
"Hey," I whispered, voice choked with emotion.
"Hey," he echoed. He shuffled in place. My imagination had stuffed him into the same sort of church clothes I'd been forced into when going to picnics like this one. It was now sporting illusory grass stains. "I'm Pax."
Peace in Latin. No wonder my mental picture had cobbled together bits of my family. Aside from Lily and a few quiet moments with Lasciel and the Fellowship, I hadn't had a lot of peace in my life.
I turned a little to face the girl, raising an eyebrow. "And what's your name?"
"Fortnea," she replied promptly.
Strong. Which made sense, given how I perceived her. Every scrap of her had been pulled from someone who embodied strength to me, for good or ill. It was a bit of a relief to discover I hadn't incorporated Marcone into my child's face in some unconscious declaration of love. No matter what I thought of him personally, I couldn't deny that the man was a solid pillar of strength weathering all climates.
I knelt so I was on their level. Neither of them had hit their growth spurt yet, and I was grateful. If things were unpleasant now, it would get worse when they went through the sudden surge that would render my head uninhabitable.
"Sorry I haven't been here," I said, taking each of their hands. They were soft and warm, still covered in a layer of baby fat. I wanted to hug them and never let go. "I promise I'm going to come to visit more often."
"It's okay," Pax said giving my hand a little squeeze. "We know you're trying to save the world."
"You can't always talk to us," Fortnea said, shoulders curling just a little. It made my heart squeeze tight.
"But I should," I insisted. "And you'll be able to talk to me from now on. I'll leave a channel open. Just promise you'll listen when I tell you that you need to scuttle back to the unconscious, okay? Can you do that for me?"
Pax nodded and then, without warning, let go of my hand so he could wind his arms around my neck instead. I laughed, half-lifting him off the ground as I staggered, nearly landing on my back. Fortnea was a little more dignified, squeezing my side instead.
"We want to help," she said softly. She hesitated before adding, "Mommy."
Mommy. God, I was a mother. That was scary. And exciting. This was never something I'd pictured for myself, and now they were here. Mine. And Lasciel's too, which came with its own set of challenges. I'd have to hold a seminar on angel danger when I had a little more time.
They were both beaming when they finally stepped back. Daniel had been right. They were just babies, and I had an opportunity to make a real mark on them before the end came.
"So," I said, pacing over to the picnic table, soft little hands in each of mine. "Tell me about yourselves. I want to know everything."