3.18 & 3.19

-18-

            Michael was more than merely angry when the damn mischief fairy showed up at his door.  He was furious.  He and Karma had a long—and very tumultuous—past. 

            Nor did she seem any happier to see him.  She nearly threw the paper which spelled out her orders from Lord Noliminan in his face as she sashayed through the door and—unwanted—into Michael’s life. 

            “At the very least,” He seethed at her, “you shall don some clothes.”

            “No.”  She snapped at him as her eyes fell upon the angel Michael had selected to assist him.  Maxium was one of Lord Lucias’ human descendants and so looked strikingly alike the devil God.  He had been an admiral when he had been mortal and killed in a battle with a sea dragon.  Like Michael, he found the bonds of male companionship that many of the immortals engaged in disgusting and so was, in Michael’s estimation, the perfect choice to be bound to Michael’s service.  “I shan’t.  I may be a fairy, but I’m still a mortal.  So you can’t tell me what to do.”

            Michael growled under his breath at that as his eyes danced as if with their own will to her full, ripe breasts.  They were covered with her long, wavy dark blue hair but the nipples of them poked through.  Something other of Michael’s came to life as though it had a mind of its own.  As it did so, Michael was filled with angry knowledge as to what this entire farce was meant to be about.

            Somehow, Lord Noliminan had learned of Loki’s trickery.  The naked female fairy had been sent to live with him to tempt him to break Lord Noliminan’s laws that he remain chaste.

            Damn him.  He thought, hating himself for his disdain toward his Lord and Master.  Why must he insist upon my pain or punishment?

            “I have plans of my own with which this has interfered.”  She groused as her eyes flicked, once again, to Maxium before returning to Michael.  “I was to marry a forest fairy next week.  We were to join our tribes by politic.”

            “Well la de da.”  Michael snapped at her.  “You must feel ever so put out that your father’s politics will have to wait.”

              “As a matter of fact.”  She rounded on Max.  “Stop staring at me!”

            “Then don some clothes.”  Michael seethed.  “You cannot expect to live with two grown men whilst being naked and not have us stare.”

            Her lips pursed.  Her blue eyes danced from Michael to Max.  “Fine.”  She snapped.  “I’ll don a smock.  But I’ll hate every minute.”

            “Boo fucking hoo.”  Michael replied to that.  He flicked his eyes to Max again.  “Come, Max.  Let’s see to the turning of the eggs.”

            Max tilted his head to the side, raised his brows and shrugged.  “If you insist, but I’d rather—“

“She’s not your friend.”  Michael growled at him.  “Or your pretty.”  He looked away from her in irritation and disdain.  “So do as I bid and come with me.”

Max, grinning at Karma, gave her a bow.  “See you later, my Lady?”

“At least one of you has manners.”  She snarked.

Michael, less than pleased with either of them, let out a guttural growl and stormed out the door.

-19-

Nothing in all of the worlds could have surprised Raphael more than the fact that when news that Sappharon’s baby was finally on its way reached Lord Noliminan’s ears, Lord Noliminan had insisted that he and Raphael spirit to Lord Lucias’ small cottage to bear witness to the event. 

In fact, Raphael and Sappharon both watched in guarded fascination as Lords Noliminan and Lucias spent three very tense days playing at castles together before, in the middle of a very heated game—and an even more heated debate—the young babe decided that it was time for his arrival. 

            When Lord Lucias stepped out of the birthing room, proudly holding his swaddled child in hand, Lord Noliminan had given him a cursory smile which, almost at once, turned to horror.  He wasn’t able to see the babe’s face, given that Lord Lucias was holding him tightly to his chest.  What he saw, instead, was the head of a serpent crawling out of the blanket to dance, almost caressingly, across Lord Lucias’ hand.

            Raphael stared at the serpent with wide eyed horror as Lord Noliminan voiced the thoughts running through his mind.  “Is that a snake?”

            “Aye,” Lord Lucias looked upward, beaming at Lord Noliminan.  “Come.  Take a look.  He is magnificent to behold.”

             Lord Noliminan stood and strode across the room.  As he pulled back the blanket from the baby’s face his brow knitted together and he began shaking his head.  Clearly perplexed by what he was seeing, he asked, “What, by the name of Loki’s Gods be damned beard, is that?”

            Lord Lucias grinned and flicked his eyes to Raphael.  “Come and look, Raphael.  Meet your new brother.”

            Not entirely certain that he wanted to meet his new brother given the fact that he had a snake crawling around him, Raphael rose to his feet and, very hesitantly, made his way across the room.  Steeling himself for anything, he reached for the blanket and pulled it back. 

            What he saw made him step back with horrific surprise.

            There wasn’t a snake.  There were snakes.  Thousands of them were growing out of his tiny little head where there should have been hair.  His face was long and slender and covered in light grey scales.  His nose was a small bump with two slits which ran vertically down the center of his face at the side of his eyes.  Which, Raphael marked, ran equally vertically along his cheeks.

            They were vertical and near to impossible to describe.

            Looking into those eyes was like looking into the deepest pit on the thirteenth level of Hell.   Raphael could see damnation in those eyes.  His damnation.  And he was all at once mortified and horrified.

            He swallowed and, in shaking tones, asked, “What is wrong with him?”

            “Absolutely nothing.”  Lord Lucias continued to grin at them each in turn.  “He’s exactly as we designed him.  We’re to call him Gorgon.  And he is to breed and create an entire race of his people.”

            “Who would—“ Lord Noliminan shook his head. “Luci, what purpose can you possibly prescribe to such a people as this?”

            Still beaming, Lord Lucias chuckled almost gaily.  “If a mortal looks into his eyes they will become so terrified that they will immediately and irrevocably be turned into marble!”

            “Turned into . . .” Lord Noliminan’s voice trailed off.  “What—why?”

            Lord Lucias shrugged.  Raphael felt his jaw snapping tightly closed.  “A bit of sport.”

            “Sport.”  Lord Noliminan snorted.  “And what happens to their soul?”

            “How am I supposed to know?”  Lord Lucias shrugged.  “That’s entirely Azrael’s concern.”

            “Hmm.”  Lord Noliminan shook his head.  “You do know that I can’t have such a creature in my Quorum.”

            Lord Lucias shrugged.  “You didn’t specify that your Quorum was to be filled only with angels when you originally asked me to hand over my children.”

            “No, but you—“

            “What’s that?”  Lord Lucias asked, turning his wicked smile in Lord Noliminan’s direction.  “I’m afraid that I mistakenly believed that you meant to protest the fact that—after all of our years of marriage—you failed to question exactly what it was you were asking of me before you forced my supplication.”

            Chuckling under his breath, Lord Noliminan held his hands out and began shaking his head.  Raphael had the distinct impression, watching them together, that Lord Noliminan was enjoying this visit to Lord Lucias more than he was willing to let on.  It wasn’t all about the business of the baby.  He had clearly missed Lord Lucias and was grateful for an opportunity to break his own rules of exile.  “Give him here.  If he is to be my General of Arms then I must have a good look at him.”

            Having a good look at him was the last thing in the world on Raphael’s agenda.  He took a few steps backward as Lord Noliminan cradled the baby in his giant hands.  The moment that he was in the crook of Lord Noliminan’s elbow, Lord Noliminan looked up at Raphael, beaming.  “Your baby brother is magnificent.”

            “I’ll take your word for it, my Lord.”

            “Oh, come now, Raph.”  Lord Lucias muttered as he stepped behind Lord Noliminan and very close to his side.  He set his chin upon Lord Noliminan’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Lord Noliminan’s waist.  Raphael, who knew by the very existence of Ishitar that the two had a deep relationship that he had simply never suspected or understood given Lord Noliminan’s insistence that he lay only with females, was so taken aback by the unguarded intimacy that his cheeks began to blaze.  “He’s beautiful.  You simply must take another look at him.”

            Sighing, Raphael held out his hands.  Lord Noliminan passed the babe to him with a wide grin and grasped the hands at his stomach in his own to bring them upward so that they rested upon his chest.  Raphael shook his head in disquieted amusement regarding the fact that the two always barbed one another in public when they so obviously adored one another and turned the babe so that his tiny head was cradled in one hand and his equally tiny bottom in the other. 

            As he forced himself to give the child another good look one of the snakes that made up the baby’s hair slid out of the blanket and wrapped around his finger.  Its tongue began flicking upon his skin, tickling him into surprised laughter.  This time as he stared into the child’s eyes he had a deeper understanding of what exactly it was that he saw.

            The full of his future life flashed within his mind, right up until the very moment when someone’s hand was grasping Zadkiel’s wrist and forcing Zadkiel’s fingers to his brow.

            He let out a terrified scream and shoved the baby away from him as fast as he could.  Four hands reached for it, catching him just before he would tumble to the ground.  Raphael, still screaming, turned away from all three of them and ran out of the library, through the cottage and out the back door. 

            Once outside, Raphael fell to his knees on the forest floor and buried his face in his hands.  The image of Zadkiel’s fingers reaching for him ran through his mind over and over again until he thought that he might go mad.  Being so consumed with this prophecy, he didn’t hear the door closing behind him or Lord Noliminan’s heavy steps as he approached him.  When his large hand fell upon Raphael’s shoulder, Raphael let out a long and terrified scream.

            “Raphael . . .” Lord Noliminan’s voice was soothing.  “Calm yourself child.”

            “Zadkiel’s fingers  . . .”

            “How exactly did you suppose that you would leave this world?”  Lord Noliminan asked gently.  “But that is so far, far into the future that you have nothing to worry on now.”

            Raphael swallowed and shook his head.  “It wasn’t his touch.”  Raphael whispered.  “It was the cold nothingness that came after.”

            Lord Noliminan sighed and lowered himself to his knees.  “By the time I allow Zadkiel to touch you, you will be begging for such a release.”  He leaned forward and kissed Raphael on the top of his head.  “Please, dear.  Calm yourself and come inside.  You’ve greatly upset your father.”

            “I’ve upset him?” Raphael rounded on him.  He immediately regretted it as Lord Noliminan’s expression fell from his concern for Raphael to cold and brewing anger.  “Forgive me, my Lord.”  He lowered his gaze.  “Please.  Do not ever make me look into those horrible eyes ever again.”

            Lord Noliminan let out a long, tired sigh.  “I suppose that we must force little Gorgon to cover them.”

            “I think that it would be for the best.”  Raphael agreed, his gaze lowered and his lips shaking. 

            Lord Noliminan flicked his fingers in the direction of the cottage.  When he was done, he ran them across Raphael’s brow.  By the time Lord Noliminan laid his hand upon Raphael’s cheek, Raphael had no memory of what had occurred, how he had come to be kneeling in the grass outside or why Lord Noliminan would be looking at him with such a hard and curious expression.  “Better?”

            “Yes.”  Raphael shook his head, confused.  “I suppose so.”

            Lord Noliminan chuckled, pulled his hand away and stood.  He held his hand toward Raphael, who swiftly took it.  “Sappharon’s babe has been born.  Come and take a look.”

            Raphael sprang to his feet, grinning.  “Will she let me hold it?”

            “Ta.”  He muttered, his eyes dancing over Raphael’s face with a strange fascination.  “Just . . . Don’t look into his eyes.”

            Raphael blinked.  “Why not?”

            Lord Noliminan chuckled again.  As he did so he raised his hand and clapped it on Raphael’s back.  It was a gesture that Raphael had seen Lord Lucias grant to Lord Loki hundreds of times.  But it was the first time that Lord Noliminan had ever made such a gesture to anyone in so far as Raphael knew.

            “Come, dear.”  Lord Noliminan smiled at him.  “It’s over time that you met your new brother.”