Nine - Mother of Christ

Amina Mounir locked the shop door behind the last customer. She put Lady Parts on at full volume, walked back to the till, and counted the cash. As she went to enter the turnover for today into the computer, she had to think for several seconds about what day it was. All days felt exactly the same, and Amina was slowly losing her mind.

She wasn't originally meant to run the shop every day. It was really her uncle Omar's shop, but he had been more and more absent over the past year. Amina was his most experienced staff member, so she was the one who took on the responsibilities he left lying. By now, she was effectively running the shop full time, and she was starting to fear she would be stuck here her entire life. She was twenty-three, and her dreams – studying, writing, travelling – were retreating beyond her grasp.

She sighed, closed the till, and began to sweep the floor. First the shop itself, then the storage room. It was getting messier and messier there. She really ought to clean it out some time soon. But ah... not today.

She returned to the shop just in time to see the door opening, and three people coming in. Two were white men, one dressed in white, the other in black. The third was a short, elderly woman in a niqab.

Amina stared. She was sure she'd locked the door.

'We're closed!' she yelled over the music.

'What?' the man in black said. He raised a hand, then dropped it, with small twitch to his mouth. 'Turn off the music,' he said to the man in white.

'But this is a nice song,' the man in white answered. 'Bebop, yes?'

'You really have no idea what "bebop" means, do you?' the man in black said.

The man in white bristled. 'Of cour–'

Amina turned off the music. The man in white broke off his sentence, turned to her, and smiled. 'Hello.'

'We're closed,' Amina repeated. 'You can come back tomorrow. We open at nine.'

'Ah, we're not here to buy anything,' the man in white said. 'We're here for you. Are you Miss Mounir?'

Amina raised an eyebrow. 'Yes. Amina. Who are you?'

The man in white cleared his throat, but the man in black cut in: 'He's the Archangel Aziraphale, and I'm Crowley. And this is Gee.'

Aziraphale gave him a look between amusement and annoyance, but then turned to Amina again, smiling. 'We've come to ask you a question.'

She leaned on the broom, intrigued despite herself. This was different from the daily monotony, if nothing else. 'Ask away.'

'You have been chosen to be the Second Mother of Christ and bear him for his Second Coming,' Aziraphale said. 'If you want.'

Amina blinked. The two men watched her expectantly. 'What?' she said.

'He's asking if you want to give birth to Isa,' said the elderly woman, Gee. 'He's coming again.'

'Ah.' Amina considered for a moment. 'No.'

'No?' Aziraphale repeated hopefully.

'No, not interested. I don't really want kids.' She wasn't sure she liked children all that much. And right now, she desperately wanted other things in her life. Like going further than a mile away from the place where she was born.

'Well, excellent.' Aziraphale beamed. He turned to his companions. 'That's it, then.'

Crowley looked at her, frowning. He beckoned Aziraphale closer, and said in a low voice: 'Angel, I've been thinking – will they just accept you saying that no one was willing? I think they might need some kind of proof...'

Aziraphale pursed his lips, nodding. 'Excellent point.' He turned to Amina again. 'Would you be willing to, er... testify to that?'

'Testify to whom?' Amina asked. This was getting weirder and weirder, but she was not yet put off.

Aziraphale hesitated. 'Well...'

'Nya, just a bunch of people,' Crowley said. 'No one important.'

'You'd need to come to Nazareth, though,' Aziraphale said.

'Nazareth? As in... Nazareth, Israel?'

Aziraphale nodded.

Amina put the broom away. 'When can we leave?'

When the dusty hills gave way to the first houses of Nazareth, Aziraphale stopped the car by the roadside and turned around to look at his passengers.

They were all sleeping. Gee and Amina were leaning against each other in the back seat. Gee was snoring a little – at least, Aziraphale suspected it was Gee, as he couldn't see her face. Amina rested against her shoulder. She had been excitedly looking out the window for much of the journey, but somewhere during the night, she had finally succumbed to sleep.

In the passenger seat, Crowley slept leaning against the window. He looked tired. His hair sagged a little, and Aziraphale resisted the sudden desire to comb it back into shape with his hands.

Of course he resisted. It would open something that would get in the way of their job to do.

Yesterday's conversation with Gee came back to Aziraphale. Weird as human theories generally tended to be, he strongly suspected that Gee and her 12th-century Egyptian philosopher were right.

It certainly explained a lot of things. Like how he kept managing to resist throwing himself at Crowley while they still had work to do. And their last conversation in the bookshop. In painful detail.

Aziraphale desperately wanted to think about it all – and talk about it with Crowley – but there was no time for any of that. It was almost midday, and today was the day Christ was going to Come to Earth Again (although, according to the planning Aziraphale had drawn up, it would take nine months before He would set actual foot on Earth). They had to get a move on.

So Aziraphale woke Crowley, Amina and Gee, and said: 'We're in Nazareth.'

Crowley yawned and looked around. He made an impressed noise. 'This has changed since I was last here.'

'Of course it has,' Aziraphale murmured. 'It's been two thousand-odd years.'

'No, this was three weeks ago,' Crowley said. 'They took down the old factory over there.' He pointed to an empty place between the buildings. A demolition truck stood on the side, and a construction worker walking past raised a hand to them. 'Good thing too, it was hideous.'

'So, what's next?' Amina asked.

'I take you to the agreed location,' Aziraphale said. 'Then, when the angels come to announce Christ, you just say no.'

'And they'll take a no?' Amina said sceptically. Crowley snorted.

'Yes, they will,' Aziraphale said firmly.

'So, where is the happy announcement to take place?' Crowley asked.

'Same place as last time,' Aziraphale said.

'Which is where?' Amina asked.

'It's contested, actually,' Gee piped up. 'There are two Annunciation Churches in Nazareth, both claiming to be built on the exact site.'

'Typical,' Crowley said.

'So... which one are we going to?' Amina asked.

'Don't worry,' Aziraphale said. 'I have the coordinates. I'll teleport us both to the right location.'

'Both? What do you mean, both?' Crowley said. 'The use of both suggests I'm not coming.'

'You aren't,' Aziraphale said.

Crowley spluttered. 'Of course I'm coming. We're in this together.'

Aziraphale would have made a little dance at those words, if he hadn't been sitting in the car. Instead he said: 'They can't know that. When they see you, they'll know something is afoot. We can't have this botched before Amina says no!'

'I'll wear a niqab,' Crowley said insistently. 'They won't know it is me.'

But Aziraphale shook his head. 'No. If something goes wrong –'

'– I need to be there –'

'– you'll be vulnerable. Crowley, you could d-die.' There, the word was out. Crowley fell silent. Something twitched in his jaw.

'Fine,' he grumbled at last. 'I'll wait in the car with Gee. But if you need me...'

'We'll be totally fine,' Aziraphale said confidently. He looked over his shoulder. 'Amina, are you ready?'

'I could die too,' Amina pointed out.

'Nah, they won't hurt you,' Crowley said. 'You're their only candidate.'

Amina looked as if she didn't entirely believe him. 'Once we get out of this, you're sponsoring my world trip.'

'Fine. Deal,' Aziraphale said.

Gee fixed Amina's coat. 'There, habibti. You're all set.' She turned her uneven-coloured eyes to Aziraphale. 'You take care of her.'

'I will,' he promised. He extended his hand to Amina. She took it. Aziraphale concentrated, and teleported them away.

.

When they landed, Amina swayed a bit on her feet. Aziraphale quickly supported her. She regained her balance and looked around. 'This isn't a church,' she said.

'No, it doesn't appear to be so,' Aziraphale said.

They had appeared on the open-roofed top floor of a multistorey car park. It was empty. Outside they could see the city of Nazareth stretching out to all sides.

'Are you certain this is the right place?' Amina asked.

'Quite certain,' Aziraphale muttered.

'Seems both churches are wrong, then,' she chuckled.

'It would seem so,' Aziraphale said absently. He checked his pocket watch. It was one minute before twelve. 'I think we can exp–'

His words were cut off by a chorus of glorious singing. At the same moment a Heavenly light poured over them. Amina and Aziraphale looked up.

A Heavenly Host was descending from the skies. At the front Aziraphale spotted Michael, Uriel, and Saraqael, their expressions lofty, and apparently entirely serious under the fanfare of their arrival.

Uriel landed first. 'Aziraphale,' they greeted him. 'Right on time.'

'Ah, well, you know me,' Aziraphale said awkwardly.

Michael and Saraqael landed on either side of Uriel. The other angels – dozens upon dozens of them – fanned out behind them.

Aziraphale smiled nervously. He hadn't been anxious at all until he'd left the car, but now it really dawned on him: here he was, opposite all the angels, about to sabotage their plan two thousand years in the making. He swallowed, then looking at the throng of angels, remarked lightly: 'What an entourage.'

'He deserves it,' Saraqael said.

'Of course He does,' Aziraphale said quickly.

Michael eyed Amina. 'This is the woman?'

'I have a name,' Amina said.

Aziraphale quickly cleared his throat. 'Ah. Yes. This is Amina Mounir, the woman who has been selected for the singular honour of bearing Christ for his Second Coming to Earth.'

'How?' Michael said.

'How?' Aziraphale repeated uncertainly.

Michael turned her gaze to him, eyes narrowing. 'How was she selected?'

'Ah.' Aziraphale couldn't help but smile a little triumphantly. Their success in the Vaults of Hell still felt like victory. 'Nothing can remain hidden for the eyes of God.'

'You're not God,' Michael snapped. She turned to the others. 'How do we know this is the right woman?'

'Why wouldn't she be?' Uriel asked, a little annoyed.

Michael pressed her lips together.

Saraqael looked Amina over. 'Well, she's here, isn't she? Let's get on with it.'

'Excellent,' Aziraphale said, beaming. 'Well, being Supreme Archangel, shall I pop the question?'

The angels stared at him blankly. Aziraphale cleared his throat. 'I mean, shall I make the Annunciation?'

'Yes,' Uriel said. 'Get on with it.'

'Very well.' Aziraphale turned to Amina and cleared his throat again. 'Hail, thou that art highly favoured! The Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. Fear not, Amina, for thou hast found favour with God. And behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus.' He winked at her. 'He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest. And he shall reign over the world for ever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end, et cetera, et cetera.'

He waited expectantly. Amina stared at him for a moment, awestruck, then recovered herself. She cleared her throat. 'No, thank you.'

The angels looked at each other. 'What?' Saraqael asked.

Amina turned to them. 'No,' she repeated.

A moment of silence. Then Uriel burst out: 'You can't just say no!' The gold markings on their face flared with a Heavenly light.

'I just did,' Amina said, not in the least bit impressed. Aziraphale recognised the tone of voice one used on rude customers.

'It seems she doesn't want to take the role,' he said primly.

'But she has to,' Uriel said. 'Christ cannot Come to Earth Again without a mother. She can't refuse.'

'Well, she has,' Aziraphale said.

'No matter,' Saraqael said coolly. Everyone looked at them. 'She has been Chosen. She will be impregnated.'

'I'm sorry?' Amina said. 'You need my consent for that!'

'No, we don't,' Saraqael said. 'This is an Annunciation, not an offer you are free to decline.'

'I thought the free will of humans was rather the point,' Aziraphale said tentatively.

Saraqael turned their eyes to him. 'She is free to agree to this course of events. But we're not asking. Whatever she says, she will receive Christ.' They said it so matter-of-factly it momentarily baffled Aziraphale into silence.

But not Amina. 'Excuse me? I'm standing right here. And I have a right to bodily autonomy. You cannot force me to get pregnant against my will!'

But Saraqael ignored her. 'Signal to Christ,' they said to Uriel. 'He can Come.'

'But –' Aziraphale started.

'Silence,' Michael snapped at him. Her eyes glittered. 'I don't know what you did, but I just know you did it on purpose. We are not done with you yet. But first...'

She trailed off. Below them, they heard the sound of a car pulling up.

Uriel frowned. 'Wasn't this car park supposed to be closed today?'

The sound came closer. Aziraphale could hear the car driving round and round and up and up, until it reached the top floor, and he relaxed, because it wasn't the Bentley with Crowley driving to his death. Instead it was a Ferrari, so red it gave Aziraphale an instant headache. It roared up to their storey and drove at them. The angels shrieked and moved aside like pigeons scattering at the sight of a cat. Aziraphale grabbed Amina's hand and pulled her to safety.

The car stopped just short of Michael, Uriel and Saraqael, who hadn't moved an inch. The doors flew open, and four people stepped out.

Not people. Demons.

Aziraphale swallowed.

He recognised three of them at once: Hastur, Dagon, and Furfur. He had no particularly positive memories of any of them – they had all tried to annihilate him and/or Crowley at least once. But it was the fourth demon that made his mouth go dry. He was tall and dark and disturbingly handsome. It took a moment before Aziraphale remembered the name belonging to the face: Astaroth. He'd been one of the highest-ranking angels, before the Fall – but somehow, thinking back, Aziraphale felt like those perfect features had always belonged to someone evil.

'Lovely,' Astaroth drawled. His voice was like honey spread out over a shredder. 'It seems we have intervened just at the right moment.'

A moment of silence. 'The right moment for what?' Michael asked, her face carefully neutral.

Astaroth smiled a sharp-toothed smile and walked up to her. 'Oh come, sweetheart, don't pretend. You're here for the Second Coming of Christ.'

'How do you know that?' Uriel said. 'That was top secret. Only the Archangels knew about it.'

Astaroth turned to them, his smile widening. 'Well –'

'We have our sources,' Hastur rasped, grinning.

Astaroth whirled around. 'Shut your face,' he hissed. 'We agreed I would do the talking.'

'We agreed no such thing,' Furfur said evenly. He jerked his head at the car. 'Bring out the captive.'

None of the demons moved.

Furfur growled. 'Fine.' He opened the door to the back seat. 'Get out. And don't try anything.'

The captive came out of the car, and Aziraphale gasped.

It was Muriel.

Her hands were bound in front of her body. Her hair was dishevelled, and she had clearly been crying. A fierce anger rose in him. He stepped forward. 'What have you done to her?'

Muriel's eyes turned to him, and she began to cry again. 'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to tell them! I swear! I thought he was just being nice –' she glanced at Astaroth – 'and he seemed so interested in everything I had to say, and before I knew it I'd told him about the Second Coming and –'

Aziraphale started towards her, but Dagon and Furfur stepped in front of her. Dagon hissed. Aziraphale's steps faltered. He looked helplessly over the demons' shoulders at Muriel. 'Have they hurt you?'

Muriel sniffed. 'N-no. But they made a mess of the bookshop...'

'Wait a minute.' Uriel looked from Aziraphale to Muriel. 'You told her about the Second Coming?'

'Evidently,' Saraqael remarked drily.

Uriel whirled on Aziraphale. 'That was classified information. How could you be so stupid as to tell some junior recording angel, 36th class?'

'37th,' Saraqael said.

Michael sighed. 'He isn't stupid, Uriel. He clearly did it on purpose.' She turned to Aziraphale, eyes of flint. 'We might have known he would collaborate with the Other Side. We should have known.'

'Wait – no!' Aziraphale said. 'Of course not! I would never –'

'Was this your failsafe?' Michael hissed, jerking her thumb at the demons. 'If your scheme with the defiant woman did not work out, you'd just have them show up to stop the Second Coming?'

Aziraphale spluttered, looking for something to say. The other angels were eyeing him too now with great suspicion. Michael raised a hand –

Astaroth burst out laughing.

All angels turned to him, confused. The other demons now joined in too. Astaroth bent over laughing, grabbing Aziraphale's shoulder. Aziraphale tensed.

'What's so funny?' Michael asked.

'I'm sorry.' Astaroth stopped laughing, wiping the tears from his eyes. He did not let go of Aziraphale's shoulder, though. It was not a violent touch, but it made Aziraphale feel deeply uneasy anyway. Standing so close, he could smell a musky scent coming off the demon. 'You think we want to stop the Second Coming?' Astaroth said.

The angels stared at him, confused. At last, Saraqael answered: 'Yes.'

Astaroth shook his head, smiling his sharp-toothed smile. 'Oh no, sweetheart.' He laid his other arm around Muriel's shoulders. Muriel tensed. 'No, from our informant's story, we gathered immediately that this dear brand new Supreme Archangel' – he caressed Aziraphale's shoulder – 'was going to try and prevent the Second Coming. So we decided to come and make sure that Christ would Come.'

Again there was a moment of silence. Then Saraqael said: 'But why would you want it to go ahead? This will be the triumph of Heaven.'

Hastur huffed a laugh. 'You think that?' Dagon and Furfur began to laugh again too. Astaroth's smile widened. He finally let go of Muriel and Aziraphale and walked up to Saraqael. Standing inches in front of them, he said in a low voice: 'Who will get into the Kingdom of Heaven?'

Saraqael did not seem the least bit intimidated, even if they had to look up. 'The righteous in Christ.'

'Have you kept count of how many Christians there are these days?' Furfur snickered. 'Fewer and fewer people are believing. And those who do believe... well, try and find the righteous among them. My people have been busy.'

Astaroth turned to glare at Furfur. 'Our people,' he said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Furfur smiled like a wolf. 'Indeed.'

The silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Saraqael shrugged. 'You think that? The Second Coming of Christ will be victory for us. The Legions of Hell will be destroyed. But you can find that out for yourselves. Uriel, give the Signal. Let Christ Come.'

Uriel nodded. They made an intricate gesture with their fingers. For a few heartbeats the world seemed to hold its breath. Then the clouds burst open, the glorious chorus began again, and a radiant figure appeared in the skies.

Christ was Coming Again.