Chapter 15

  Bravery in Silence

  Scott stands outside what used to be his childhood home. Once a skeleton–charred wood, blackened beams, ashes that clung to the earth like a constant reminder.

  Now, it’s a home again.

  Soft blue paint, white trim, and the god-awful bird bath Steven hates.

  A new life, over old haunted bones.

  Gray clouds roll in. The smell of rain, thick in the air. A low growl of thunder hums somewhere in the distance.

  There’s that familiar lump in his throat–the one he feels every Sunday.

  But this time, he doesn’t swallow it.

  This time, he lets it rise.

  Lets it crack him open.

  Tears fall first. Then the rest of him gives in. He drops to the curb, face buried in his knees. Like a kid who fell off his bike and scraped up everything he was trying to hide.

  I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve tried to be brave, I tried to endure. It just feels like too much.

  Rain starts to tap against his jacket–slow at first, like the sky’s easing into the same grief.

  Thunder rolls in, closer. Louder. Almost angry.

  I’m just so tired of being strong. I wish I had stayed in the house with you.

  The rain picks up. Soaks through his clothes. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t care.

  He just sobs, shoulders shaking. Thunder covers the sound like it’s trying to drown it out.

  Then–

  The rain stops

  But only on him.

  A soft pat-pat-pat of droplets on nylon.

  Scott looks up.

  Steven’s standing there, umbrella in hand, grumbling like the world inconvenienced him.

  “You got your days mixed up, kid,” he says. “It’s not Sunday yet.”

  Scott puts his head back down without a word.

  Steven grunts and struggles as he tries to sit on the curb. Eventually, he gives up and remains standing.

  “I miss her too, you know…” he says softly.

  “She was one of the good ones. Out of all the people I hate…I hated her the least of all. And I’m sorry.”

  “I should’ve stayed in the house with her. Something just told me to get out, that I couldn’t save her, and she wanted me to run. And…and I ran.”

  Steven’s tone drops to a more stern, angry voice. More angry than Scott thought possible. “Don’t you ever think like that. She didn’t save your ass so you could sit here and fall apart.”

  They stay in each other's silence, letting the weight of the words fall, like the rain on the cold cement.

  “She never left you, you know. I’ve seen it. Every Sunday, I see it. She left all her best parts in you, whether you realize it or not.”

  “Thanks, Steven. But I know you hate being outside, I’ll be alright. You should go back inside.”

  “Nobody should have to feel alone. She taught me that, too, and so did you.”

  They remain in silence. The rain matching Scott's tears, the thunder directly above.

  “I’m just going through a lot right now.”

  Steven looks at him.

  “I know.”

  “I’ll be right here when you’re ready to move again.”

  After a few minutes of more silence, Scott finally looks up at Steven.

  “Do you know what happened? The day of the fire? What actually happened?

  Steven thinks for a minute. Tears begin welling in his eyes.

  He tilts his head up to look at the gray, dark sky.

  “I hate the rain.”

  He sighs.

  “No. I don’t know what happened. I heard commotion going on in your home. When I went to see what was happening, it was already engulfed in flames, and I saw a little boy standing outside. Alone, cold, and frightened.”

  The dam breaks, and Scott's chest caves with a louder sob.

  Steven lays a gentle hand on his shoulder and lets his tears drop.

  Then–

  A honey, deep male voice, rising above the commotion of the world.

  “My apologies for the intrusion, gentlemen. Scott, may I pull you for a chat?”

  Scott and Steven look over at Lucien, standing in the rain. No umbrella. But he remains completely dry, like the rain knows to avoid touching him.

  “You know this monkey in a suit?” Steven asks, eyeing Lucien.

  Lucien grins a big, toothy grin. Part amusement, part warning.

  “It’s fine, Steven. This is Lucien, our companies are doing business together.”

  Steven stands firm, almost daring Lucien to make a move.

  “If you don’t mind, Steven. Could you give me and Scotty boy here a moment of privacy? Business matters, you understand.”

  He doesn’t move and continues to stare.

  “I’m okay Steven, really. Thank you.”

  “Watch your back, Scott. I’ve been around a long time, I know a wolf in a suit when I see one.”

  Lucien's grin spreads wider.

  Steven walks back to his house, looking over his shoulder one last time.

  Lucien watches him close the door, his grin lingering.

  “I like him,” he says, like someone admiring a new pet.

  “How did you know I was here? If it’s about the deal, you should take it up with Aaron.”

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  Lucien slowly turns his head back to Scott. His eyes glowing an eerie yellow.

  “As a matter of fact, I am here in regards to the deal. But not about that awful yet somehow delicious dessert. I’m here in regards to a deal made long ago. By your mother, Scott.”

  Scott’s eyes go wide, a weight drops to his stomach, his mouth goes dry.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it’s about time someone filled you in on the real reason for your mother's death and the fire. Pity the one responsible isn’t brave enough to do it Herself.”

  Lightning strikes nearby, the crash of thunder deafening, like the Earth is reacting to his words.

  Lucien looks up at the sky, and his smile grows impossibly wide.

  “You see, Scott. You may know me as Lucien, you also know me by a few others names–Damien, Lucifer, Satan, The Devil–Beelzebub, that one's my favorite. And I come bearing a gift. A piece of your lost history.“

  “Your mother didn’t die from a freak accident; she sacrificed herself. But not just her body, her soul as well. She gave her soul to save you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lucien practically glides over to Scott. His footsteps loud and thunderous on the cement.

  “You weren’t supposed to be here, Scott. In fact, you were supposed to die in the womb, just another lost baby. But for one reason or another, you didn’t. You really are a stubborn bastard.”

  A cigarette appears between his fingertips seemingly from nowhere. Lit, and unaffected by the rain. He draws it to his lips, inhales, and lets out a deep exhale.

  “When that didn’t work, well, She…let’s stop beating around the bush, shall we? Evelyn, or as most of you mortals call her, God.” he lets out a theatrical cough.

  “God decided you’d be in a vegetable state, and obviously that didn’t take either. Although you have a striking resemblance to an undercooked potato. Anywho, she shot at you twice, and–” He flicks ash from the cigarette. “She blinked.”

  He takes another drag of the cigarette.

  “She thought it was fate or something that saved you, so for a time, she watched you closely. But your existence is a threat, because for someone who claims she’s all good and all powerful. Well, it seems to me, perhaps she’s not all she claims to be. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “God has been trying to kill me all this time, is that what you’re telling me?”

  “It sounds so…uncouth when you put it that way. But, yes. Until one day that constant itch, that she couldn’t scratch, was too much for her to bear. So she tried to cleanse it with fire. Caligo, I believe was his name, one of her Angels, minions, helpers, whatever word you’d like to use. His job was to make sure the job was done, but she didn’t account for one thing. Not everyone is afraid of her, and some don’t bend so easily.”

  “Your mother begged for Her to save you, to take her instead. She offered her soul, but God doesn’t do deals with souls. That’s my jurisdiction, I was watching and I came to her and told her I can’t intervene directly. But perhaps, I could help Caligo break free from his bonded word, and let him decide what to do with you. Leave it in fate's hands once more.”

  “Free will is a beautiful thing, Scott. Even Heaven forgets that sometimes.”

  Scott stares at him in dismay.

  He takes a shaky breath.

  “She…gave you her soul?”

  “Yes. And in return, I gave Caligo–your Cal– A choice. You see, I can sense when there’s a waver, a little uncertainty behind someone's soul. And boy was he wavering. I just gave him one. Little. Push. And the choice was his: continue to follow orders, or defy everything he knew. And well, you’re still here, aren’t you?”

  Scott’s breath catches. His voice cracks.

  “What…What did you do with her soul?”

  Lucien tilts his head, almost sympathetically.

  “Oh, Scotty. Don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to.”

  “But. It seems that she’s trying one more time to be rid of you, and Cal decided, out of nobility, or perhaps guilt, that he still won’t let her take you. And me? Well, I just love a good family quarrel.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  Lucien looks at Scott with amusement.

  “Because. Seeing her squirm, seeing her mask crack as she tries too hard to dispose of you has been the highlight of the century for me. And now? You’ve seen behind the curtain. That’s power, Scott. And I’ll let you in on one more little secret. After all, what are business partners for?”

  Lucien leans in close. Scott feels his breath – warm, the faint smell of sulfur–he flinches.

  “She needs people to believe in her. If not, well, what’s the point of existing? Isn’t that right, Scott?”

  He chuckles and backs away.

  Steam rises from his body as if the rain realized he was standing in its way.

  He continues to laugh as more steam rises. And just like that–he’s gone. Only the hiss of steam and a guttural laughing echo remain.