"I know, I know," Samantha said straight away. "Pregnant women aren't supposed to drink, and I don't... I haven't had a drop since I found out I was expecting. But after today, I need a sip… just a taste… something."
Serah smiled sadly. "Bad day?"
"That's an understatement," she said, dropping down onto the chair right across from Serah. Up close, the woman looked exhausted, but a warm smile graced her lips anyway. "I'm so tired, I can't sleep, don't even have enough energy to keep up with Nicki, and my husband called this morning to say they're switching to twelve-hour shifts. Which is great, you know, because we need the money, but I'd love to have my husband around more."
"I'm sure he'd love to be around more, too," Serah said, the words flowing from her lips without a thought as she picked up the cup and sniffed it. It smelled like sour grapes. She'd never drunk wine before.
"Yeah, I know he would," Samantha agreed, throwing back her swallow. Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, she swished the wine around in her mouth for a moment before spitting it right back into the cup. She smiled sheepishly before pushing the cup aside and continuing. "Nicholas—my husband—works hard, and as much as I appreciate everything he does, all I seem to feel these days is what he can't do. Parenting, housework, yard work… I'll be wading through knee-high grass before long on my journey to get the stack of bills from the mailbox. Waddling as I go, of course, thanks to this one."
Samantha rubbed her stomach over her shirt.
"How far along are you?" Serah asked curiously.
"Eight months," she said. "He's due in four weeks."
"He?"
"Yep, a boy," she said. "Samuel."
The sound of that name hit Serah like a ton of bricks. Her insides felt like they were on fire, warmth spreading through her. "Samuel," she whispered. She couldn't quite place it, but that name felt as familiar as her own had the first time she heard it.
"He was a surprise," Samantha continued. "We weren't going to have any more after Nicki, but I guess God had other plans for us. Anyway, listen to me going on and on. Tell me about yourself, neighbor."
Serah was quiet for a moment, staring down into the cup at the liquid, a deep crimson color. "I'm afraid there's not much to tell."
Serah recounted what she could, giving a summarized version of herself. A few brief sentences to sum up a forgotten lifetime.
"Wow, that's… wow." Samantha stared at her, dumbfounded. "You remember nothing from before the big storm?"
"Nothing," Serah replied, but a tingle inside of her told her she was telling a lie. Images flashed in her mind, the same images that had assaulted her when Luce kissed her in her living room. It had been just a few days ago, his absence afterward a hard pill to swallow. He'd vanished and hadn't resurfaced.
She was still questioning her sanity.
"You poor thing." Samantha reached over, grasping Serah's hand, the contact sending a buzz through her that made her heart race. It was like being zapped in the chest. "I can't imagine what it must be like."
Before Serah could respond, a screech echoed from a back bedroom, little footsteps running down the hallway. Serah glanced up as Nicki ran into the kitchen, clutching a notebook. The little girl was rambling something about a drawing but froze, eyes widening when she saw Serah sitting there.
"Hey!" she said excitedly, skirting right past her mother to run for Serah instead. "I just drew you!"
Serah tensed as Samantha let out a laugh. Nicki leaped up in the chair right beside Serah, slamming her notebook down on the table in front of them. Serah glanced at the picture, joining Samantha in laughter at what she saw: a woman, in a long tan colored dress, holding a green blob in her hands.
"It's a frog," Nicki exclaimed, pointing at it. "Did you find yours yet?"
"I don't know that I have," Serah said hesitantly.
"Too bad." Nicki said it casually, shrugging. "Maybe you will today."
The little girl was off again, running for the door as she shouted back at her mother that she was going outside to play. Samantha yelled to her, telling her to tie her shoes, asking her to be careful, shouting to her about safety, but Nicki was out the door without listening to a bit of it. Groaning, Samantha shoved her chair back and climbed to her feet. "I wish I had half of her energy."
"Luckily, I do," Serah said, jumping to her feet. "Allow me."
Samantha looked as if she wanted to argue but shrugged it off, slumping back into the chair. Serah headed outside, finding Nicki in the front yard, the grass nearly to her small waist. Serah helped the girl tie her shoes and relayed the messages from her mother before heading back inside. She retook the seat at the table, picking up the yet untouched glass of wine, as Samantha eyed her peculiarly.
"Did she put up a fight?"
"No."
"She listened to you?"
"Yes."
A smile overtook Samantha's lips. "Serah, I think you and I are going to be great friends."
Serah let out a light laugh as she brought the cup to her lips, hesitantly taking a small sip of the wine. It was bitter, and kind of warm, but it went down smoothly. Serah pulled the cup back, glancing inside of it, before taking another sip right away.
Three sips later, her body was tingly.
Another four and she felt like she was floating above the chair.
The two chatted as they sat at the kitchen table, late afternoon turning into early evening. Serah drank the wine and happily listened while Samantha vented her frustrations. By the time night fell outside, Nicki was sitting with them, coloring contentedly. Both women were relaxed, a weight seemed to have lifted off of Samantha's shoulders, while Serah was downright buzzing.
All mortals have sin inside of them.
In some, it's barely measurable, little drops of depravity that never floated to the surface, staying buried deep inside the body. Others wear their sins like tattoos on the skin, badges they carelessly flash at anyone who comes near.
Luce had encountered them all—the selfish mostly full of greed, the lazy filled to the brim with sloth, the evil fed by wrath, the jealous consumed by envy, the conceited with their inflated pride, and the gluttons with their overindulging—but he'd always been drawn to the ones bathed in lust. Pheromones coated them like an intoxicating perfume. In the past, he rarely resisted the scent. He drowned himself in it, sometimes not coming up for air for days… weeks… months.
Years.
He'd walk away from a binge of sin, coated in all of the deadliest, his eyes blazing embers, his skin pulsating. In the aftermath, he'd feel like that indestructible being, the villainous monster the world made him out to be. He wouldn't think twice about those he destroyed during his rampage, the souls he'd shredded, the torture he'd inflicted.
He was a junkie, plain and simple…
And he hadn't had a taste in months.
Luce stood in front of Serah's house. The lights were all off inside, nobody home, but he could sense her essence strongly next door. It was a powerful concentration, humming like a motor, the vibration so intense Luce could feel the ground trembling beneath his feet. Her energy still buzzed on a higher frequency than everyone else, and tonight, it was loud.
It practically screamed.
He'd been half a world away, on another continent, in the ancient castle where the demons still flocked, passing his time sitting in that throne and tinkering with his knife. He'd sent his minions out to keep an eye on Abaddon, and they reported back every few hours with what he was doing.
Nothing.
He was doing fucking nothing.
Luce wasn't an idiot, though. The angel was biding his time before he enacted his plan. Luce was waiting for his old friend to set things in motion, but he didn't want the fight to be drawn anywhere near her.
So he kept his distance, but it didn't last long, because he felt the pull from over three thousand miles away. He'd zapped right there, unable to ignore it, and the concentration of sin nearly knocked him on his ass.
Lust.
Small doses had brewed in her as an angel. He'd felt them then. He'd capitalized on them. But this? This was like nothing he'd ever felt from her before.
Luce stood still, watching as Serah exited the neighbor's house and strolled through the yard toward hers. She was light on her feet, but somewhat unsteady, weaving as she strolled along. She glanced up when she neared her porch, gasping and stopping abruptly. "Luce."
His name was a whisper. Her breath smelled like wine. Her cheeks flushed pink from her intoxication, and the wave of desire struck him hard. His own body started buzzing from it, a needless breath entering his lungs as he inhaled the aroma. He needn't see himself to know his eyes were dimming, the purity draining from him. He could feel it, feel the flames igniting under his skin, his temperature steadily rising.
Sinners run hot because they're destined to burn.
It's Hell's way of calling them home.
"Serah," he said quietly, his voice strained as he addressed her.
"Luce," she said again. "I haven't seen you."
"I haven't been around."
It was the longest Luce had stayed away from her in months.
"I know. You left."
"I did."
"But you're here," she said, stepping toward him. "You're here now."
"I am."
She stared up at him, her breaths shaky. He could see she had a dozen other questions, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to form them. She remained silent, though. The words wouldn't come out.
Carefully, Luce reached over, grazing his fingertips along her flushed cheek, feeling the warmth brewing beneath her skin. Touching her was dangerous. His fix was right in front of him, glowing like a beacon, calling out to him. He could satiate his need and purge the build up, drawing the lust out of her as she welcomed him in. And she would. She yearned for him. He could feel it stronger at that moment than he ever felt it down in the pit.
Luce started to speak but the words were stolen from him when Serah thrust up on her tiptoes, lips smashing against his. The moment they connected, all thoughts wiped from his mind as he blanked out, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, except for her.
Energy surged inside of him. Snatching a hold of Serah, he dragged her inside, never breaking the kiss. He pulled her through the house, frustration mingling with the powerful sensation. It was so damn difficult not being able to zap her anywhere.
He found the bedroom and easily lifted her up by her hips, pulling her onto the small bed, on top of the crisp, cool sheets. Her dress bunched up around her hips as he settled between her legs, kissing her deeply, tasting the wine on her lips.
His hands roamed her body, caressing her skin, groping her flesh. He thrust against her, material still separating them, but the friction was enough to push Serah over the edge. She moaned into his mouth, her sighs becoming cries that Luce feasted on, hungrily devouring every whimper as he thrust, and thrust, and thrust. He nearly knocked her off the bed from the force, the headboard banging against the wall as he fucked her with their clothes on, not once breaking the kiss.
It was enough... just enough... for him to get a taste, to give her what she yearned for, but it wasn't what Luce really craved. He wanted her. All of her. Lust wasn't enough. He wanted to pull everything out of her and bask in it.
He thrust harder, and harder, feeling her body quiver beneath his as she started to come. She called out to him, the shaky cry of pleasure exiting her and flowing through him. His body lit up from the inside, tingling from head to toe, as a sudden and unexpected crash of thunder rumbled, lightning flashing right outside the window.
He tilted his head back, absorbing it all.
"Oh God," Serah whimpered. Luce's hand clamped down around her mouth, smothering the words. Her eyes shot open, startled, as he looked at her.
"Be careful who you invoke," he said quietly, his body rubbing against hers, riding her through the orgasm, as he stared her in the eyes. He could see a reflection of his own--pitch black. At least they weren't red. Red would terrify her, but right now she just looked intrigued.
He pulled his hand away just as her voice rang out. "Your eyes are so dark… and your skin is burning up. I feel like... I feel like I'm humming. Like my soul is vibrating because of your touch."
It is, Lucifer thought. He recharged her energy just by getting her off. Lust still clung to her, surrounding both of them, but he'd siphoned most of it off.
Without responding, his hands cupped her face. He kissed her again, kissing her deeply, as her body started to relax into the bed.
"You're sleeping," he whispered against her lips. "You're dreaming, angel. This didn't happen."
Pulling back, he hovered over of her and stared down into her eyes. She held his gaze for a moment as he brushed his fingertips across her forehead.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
Out cold for the night.
Tension smothered the throne room.
Michael had never felt such suffocation before, his chest tight like his lungs needed air but he couldn't breath. He clutched the hilt of his sword tightly with both hands, the tip of it grinding into the floor.
He couldn't move, or speak. He couldn't do anything. He was made of marble. He'd been chiseled from stone.
Inside, he felt like he was crumbling.
"I warned you," his Father said gently.
Michael lowered his head and closed his eyes. "I know."
The throne room had been broadcasting images of Satan for months. It played out around them like a long, endless movie, day in and day out. The same settings, the same cast. Michael avoided most of it, but curiosity got the best of him today. Serah had succumbed to mortal temptations, and Satan had been drawn right to it.
Of course. Even Michael had felt the attraction, the pull of sin from so far away. Serah wasn't used to human emotions. When the switch flipped inside of her, it was extreme.
Michael stayed planted in Heaven, though, and despite his Father's warnings, he watched it play out. Michael wanted to bear witness to the evil, but what he'd seen was an entirely different show. Satan had purged it from her, reveling in the sin himself, but he'd left her intact afterward.
He didn't further taint her soul.
"Is it because she's mortal now?" Michael asked quietly. "Is that why she responds to him so?"
In all the time they'd been together, Michael had never seen Serah so unguarded, so passionate. He'd never heard such cries of pleasure.
"Partly," He responded. "It's the combination of them together, son. Lucifer is sulfuric acid, sometimes dangerous but still valuable. Serah, on the other hand, is water, peaceful and pure. Mixed together, those two are fine, as long as you introduce the acid slowly. The other way around, you're headed for destruction. Dump water straight into the acid and something may very well explode."
Made sense, on the surface, but Michael had difficulties accepting it.
Why them? Why not him?
Why? Why? Why?
"You know why," He said, easily tapping into Michael's thoughts. "It was destined."
"For how long?"
Was it always supposed to be this way? The entire time he'd been with Serah, had He known it would happen? Had He planned this?
"It was written in the stars the day Lucifer fell," He said. "She was destined to save him from himself."
"Has she?" Michael asked. "Has he been saved?"
His Father cocked his head to the side, staring at the projection of Lucifer. He stood just outside Serah's house again as she slept soundly in bed. "I'm not sure."
The hesitance in his Father's voice bewildered Michael. That was the second time He had wavered, the second time He seemed to not know. "How can you not be sure? You know all. You see all."
"I do."
"Then you must see his future."
"I do," He said. "But Lucifer possesses something unpredictable."
"What?"
"Free will."
Michael was stunned. Free
will?
"He's one of a kind," He said. "He walks free, controlling his own destiny, but he doesn't yet know himself. His mind isn't made up. It changes every few seconds, altering the future in vastly different ways."
Michael turned from his Father. "Why can't I see it?" He strained, trying to sense the future like he did with mortals, but there was nothing. He shifted, trying to sense Serah's, but hers, too, was blank. "I can't see her, either."
"I've kept them from you," He said.
Why? Michael wondered, but his Father didn't answer his question. Not this time. They watched the image of Satan for a moment longer before the fallen angel zapped away. His Father waved his hand, the picture dissolving.
"If she doesn't save him?" Michael asked. "What if he makes the wrong decision?"
"Then everyone will lose," He responded. "Especially them."
It was the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. Samantha Lauer sat at her kitchen table, feet propped up in the chair beside her, barefoot and wearing a pair of raggedy pajamas. Her ankles were swollen, her back was aching, and she'd give her left tit for the heartburn to go away.
Serah knew all of this because she sat right across from her new friend, listening as she vented. The end of summer was upon them. They'd spent the past few weeks getting to know one another, hanging out in the afternoon before Serah headed off to work the night shift at the motel.
The windows were wide open, a warm breeze wafting through the room. Sweat accumulated on Serah's brow, beading along her nape and running down her back.
"Ugh, this boy," Samantha groaned, clutching her stomach as she stood up. "You'd think I was giving birth to Charlie Watts with the way he drums on my bladder all day long."
Serah laughed, finishing off the rest of her glass of lemonade as Samantha wandered down the hall to the bathroom for the fifth time in an hour. Serah stood up, taking her empty cup to the sink, when the front door of the house opened. She glanced over as Samantha's husband, Nicholas, stepped inside. He started to speak but silenced when he glanced over and saw it wasn't his wife standing there.