Chapter 30 Charlie
There’s something beautiful about standing at the edge of the world.
The heat is baking me alive, yet barely warming my skin at the same time.
Horrific laughter echoes and blackness spreads across the sky despite the pillar of fire that keeps blowing out of the wide open caldera.
What seems like miles of rock is gone, opening up to the center of the Earth, revealing a lake of magma that churns and seems to spin, like it’s calling me deeper.
If nothing else, it’s honest.
So much has been a lie:
God’s love, protecting like a shield.
People being generally good.
Suriel’s affection.
Because lies are easier. And smiles are simple.
Especially when someone’s waiting to dole out punishments for one wrong word said at church.
A sharp hand waits to carve the Devil out of you if you refuse to hug a stranger after the whispered endearment of ‘peace be with you’ which always felt more like fancy punctuation than a real hope.
Words are prettiest because they stop existing after they’re spoken. They’re lies that trap like a net. Action … it’s real. Destruction is so genuine, so … lasting.
“What is God to a world on fire?” I ask softly. “What’s Heaven to earthly pleasure and pain that says we’re alive?”
“What’s a mouthful of promises to one honest act?” The voice is achingly beautiful.
I slowly drag my gaze away from the caldera as my spine pinches with what feels like a million needles. My wings ruffle around me, puffing out in a way I don’t understand.
The man standing right there is … astounding. Even in the horrific and unforgiving red light of the caldera, he’s beyond beautiful. Being hit with a taser right now or waking up from a coma would be less jarring than seeing this perfectly clean, shockingly inviting man in front of me.
His golden hair messily brushes his slightly darker eyebrows and draws attention to Mediterranean blue-green eyes.
He looks like he was sculpted lovingly, from his flawlessly smooth jaw and high cheekbones that set a new standard for masculine beauty to his perfectly straight nose and perfectly balanced pink lips.
His broad shoulders, every cord of muscle meant for purpose, but softened with the gray sweater he wears.
His tan slacks and the gentle smile on his face as he chews on a toothpick give him an interesting mix of thesis advisor and favorite uncle as he approaches me.
The world seems to quiet and something … something makes me lean into him. It’s not his words, it’s … this feeling. That I’m where I’m supposed to be.
He offers me a hand, bronzed skin, not tattooed, not scarred, just perfect like the first snowfall. He’s whole in a way I’ve never experienced. My fingers hesitate before I touch him.
“You chose to come. I’m so pleased you did, baby,” he says with softness and pride I’ve only seen in Hallmark movies. “You’re so much more than I ever thought you’d be. And now you’re home.”
Home.
The word belongs on his tongue, rippling between us as the tug I feel to him grows stronger. Something wavers in me as my wings drop and I cough up more of the oil that seems to fill me.
He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and reaches out before pausing. “May I?”
I take it from him and dab at my mouth instead.
He shakes his head. “So beautiful. Seeing you really take control, own your power - it’s astounding.
I’m so proud of you, Charlie. God … His hold is so strong and it makes it so easy for Him to weaponize the spirit of truth and righteousness.
But you know nothing is black and white. It’s gray.”
“So gray,” I breathe.
He steps closer, hesitates, then gently wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“I tried so hard and for so long to reach you. To make sure you didn’t feel alone.
I wanted you to know you were seen, that I felt your agony like my own.
What kind of father could ever tolerate seeing a child in such pain?
Surviving such injustice alone? Left to fend for herself again and again without the softness of love, without the promise of safety? ”
I hesitate. “Who … who are you?”
“Charlie!” Suriel’s scream distracts me. It’s frantic, desperate, just like at the frozen lake.
My lip curls back.
He wants to kill me. Every bit of trust he earned was a ploy to make me pliable, to welcome his divine punishment. I’m not holy and he’s a warrior of God. He’ll use his sword on me the same way he did with the hellhounds … I look back to the gorgeous man beside me and take a step closer to him.
“You don’t want him?” The man asks.
“He’s worse than the rest of them,” I breathe softly. “He only pretended to care.” I swallow the sob. “I’m worthless in his eyes unless I conform. If I don’t drink the fucking Kool-Aid, then I’m disposable.”
“We both know that’s not true,” the man says, rubbing my shoulder.
“Look at your wings. Look at your power, what you’re capable of.
He may ask you to bow and say every sweet word he can think of until you fall to your knees in worship.
But you’re meant to stand, to command, to lead, Charlie.
I know you feel it. You’re not this strong for nothing. ”
I want to agree, but I see Suriel and something flickers in me.
He’s here, but he’s not pristine. He doesn’t look holy. He looks battle-weary, though it’s just begun. He’s burned and his skin is cracking, like magma has tried to cool on him. The red edges are already peeling. His hair is free, tangled, his eyes wild and so full of an ancient hurt …
And he’s only staring at me, no one else, nothing else.
Not even the demons.
Relief and concern flash through his eyes faster than I can process and I want to hope for one aching moment that I was wrong – that the vision of him trying to kill me is wrong.
The hand on my shoulder tightens and slowly, so slowly it almost hurts, I find my eyes drifting from Suriel. I want to watch my angel. I want to go to him. I want to give him a chance, to make him understand that this world holds nothing but hurt.
It hasn’t done anything but kick me when I’m down, then blame me for being an obstacle. It’s given me nothing, but agony. It has taken and taken everything and God did nothing. God’s love was supposed to be big enough to protect everyone, so why did He shun me?
Can’t I make him understand?
“He’s only here because Heaven fears you. If you can’t be leashed, then they must snuff you out before you can create a better world as only you can,” the beautiful man whispers, stepping in front of me like he can shield me. “I won’t let anything tarnish you or force you to shrink again.”
Something pulses deep inside me, resonating in my bones.
I want to be with this man. Home doesn’t feel like a dirty word with him. Standing at his side feels right. His voice soothes all the cords within me that normally go off like sirens when someone lies to me.
“You haven’t told me who you are,” I say.
The man turns to me with a gentle, parental smile as Suriel moves forward, some kind of shaky determination making each step waver. Gone is the self-assured, confident, unflappable wingless angel I’d known before we fucked.
Suriel has never looked so human, so shaken, so … raw. He makes himself stand taller. He says something in a language I don’t know and the man beside me trembles.
“I haven’t been called that in centuries. Millennia. Say it again, brother.” The man smiles, but it’s vicious, full of rage begging for an outlet. “It reminds me so much of our last meeting.”
“Brother?” I whisper.
“Lucifer,” Suriel says evenly, making the man of the hour smile as he reaches out to stroke my arm. Suriel grabs his earring, pulling it free. “Step away from Charlie.”
“And give her to you?” Satan himself asks with something like horror in his voice.
“To you? The man who butchered his own brothers for choosing to follow me? The man that stole their free will and helped drive me from Heaven in revenge? The man planning to drive a sword through her chest? I won’t abandon my daughter.
I’d sooner build her a throne from your bones. ”
“I have a father?” I ask too softly for anyone to hear.
“No wonder your parents never showed their face,” a voice from my past teases
“My father’s … Lucifer?” My barely there whisper doesn’t make this any more believable.
“Satan’s in your mouth, in your cunt, buried so deep inside you. You need nightly, special exorcisms just to have a chance,” a sharp, gruff voice says as my eyes linger on the preacher’s collar.
“So I’m not human?” I ask, but my voice is lost in the wind.
“Don’t twist our past,” Suriel snarls. “You gave me no choice but to end our brothers by poisoning them exactly how you’ve poisoned her. You twist words, obscure reason. And you left her to weather hardships alone. You’re no loving father,”
“No one will do you any favors, Char. Love isn’t always smiling and comfortable,” Bob said once while watching Lone Ranger.
“No, I’m a father eager to make up for lost time,” Lucifer answers. “Welcome to the family reunion.”