He doesn’t mean it.
That beautiful baby in the crib didn’t even know what he was. This power that had been forced upon him wasn’t his fault. It was the Almighty’s.
But she wished she could have conveyed to him what these powers had done to her. She knew, if he had the power to hurt her like this, he must’ve had the power to heal her as well. After all, that was what the Christ had done when he had been on Earth before. He had healed people. Or was that story even true? She just had to stay strong. She knew he would bring her relief at some point… maybe just not tonight.
A sting in her back reminded her of the severity of the pain, and left her wondering how long she’d have to wait for the sort of relief she ached for.
***
“Are you ready?” Veylo asked.
Maggie wore the dress he’d set out for her. He’d offered her the promised painkillers and a glass of water. She promptly took the pills, hoping they would provide some relief. But she knew better. Relief wouldn’t come soon, regardless of how good the painkillers were, because this pain was too severe for any mortal cure to ease.
Veylo took her hand and led her through the house, to the main hall.
On one side of the hall, a rail allowed Maggie to look down into a ballroom packed with men in tuxedos and women in beautiful dresses. Everyone was gorgeous—like models from a magazine. But she knew these weren’t people she was looking at. They were immortals who were aligned with Veylo, helping him bring about the decimation of mankind.
Chatter filled the air amidst an orchestra that played in the corner of the room.
The sound intensified Maggie’s migraine, the light from the overhanging chandelier burning into her eyes.
Veylo guided her through the crowd, offering an occasional nod or smile to a passerby.
They were blurs to Maggie… hazy figures of colors and smiles. She noticed an occasional piercing glance. Did they know who she was? Had Veylo told them of the Christ and that she was his mother?
“You’re doing very well,” Veylo said.
Sweat lined her palms. She didn’t feel like she was doing well, but she could feel the early effects of the painkillers.
He led her to the middle of the ballroom, where more than a dozen couples, mixed with men and women, danced to the slow, melodic song created by the orchestra. Their performances appeared professional. Like they’d rehearsed their routines of dips and twirls long before arriving, and yet Maggie knew it was surely just a matter of practice over all the time they’d spent on Earth.
Veylo settled in the middle of the dancing cluster and turned to her, his eyes, set in the shadow beneath his brow, beaming as he looked into hers.
He gripped her hands and moved close.
As ease swept through Maggie, surely from the painkillers, she remembered she didn’t know how to dance. She’d danced a few times at homecoming sophomore year with a boy named Jimmy, but she’d done so little and she’d hardly tried. He’d practically dragged her around the dance floor.
What am I supposed to do?
Veylo bobbed lightly for a moment, helping her adjust to the rhythm. Considering the pain she was in and her resistance toward being so close to this wicked creature, she found it difficult to go with his movements.
“Nice party?” Veylo asked, seemingly seeking her approval. She doubted he needed it. However, now that her migraine had subsided considerably, she could focus and the light that scattered across the room didn’t bother her eyes as much. She could finally see what a beautiful party it really was. The dancers seemed like professionals. Their movements were not only in tune with their partners, but with the other dancers, as if she’d been placed in the middle of a circus performance.
She couldn’t help but acknowledge that, had she not found herself in this unfortunate circumstance, she couldn’t have witnessed such a beautiful spectacle. She would have likely found herself in a motel or the back of a car that very night. And while she dreaded the thought of returning to that life, she imagined she might have felt freer in those heinous places than in this one.
“It’s lovely,” she replied.
Even Veylo was beautiful, his long strands of hair curling around his face, the tips cutting off at his jaw. He looked so dapper in his suit, so picturesque. Despite her hatred toward him, she couldn’t help but feel attracted.
A nearby immortal woman glanced her way, and it made her self-conscious. She could have been looking because she was the mother of the Christ… or she could have been judging her because the dress Veylo had given her was too revealing for a woman who now looked like she was in her fifties.
“Oh, Maggie,” Veylo said, shifting his weight to turn her slightly, “if only you realized what you’ve done for us to restore the heavens rightfully back to the way they once were.”
Maggie felt a sharp pain in her head, but contrary to previous instances, she believed it was caused by his words and not the withdrawal from her child’s mystical high.
“I never asked to be a part of this.”
“And we did? Do you think we asked to come into being? Do you think we asked for the creator to set this universe up as He did? We’re all His playthings. The sooner creations come to accept that, the faster we’ll all be able to adjust into the order that He desires. Because He will have His way… one day. Just as He had in the beginning.”
