Michael could sense magic and spells. It was part of his healing powers. "There is some sort of longevity spell on him. That's why he hasn't died of natural causes yet. If we don't interfere, he'll live over a hundred years, easy. " Angels always had short lives on Earth. Always. "And, he's blocked somehow. I can't sense his magic and there's a gaping hole in his aura. Someone fucked with his personality."
"Well, at least that explains the fact that he's been only the good parts of himself," I said. "But who would do something like this?"
Gabriel shook his head. "I don't know. I'm going to find out, though."
"I'm going to go see what I can do about the gates," Michael said. "Oh, and before I forget, the baby is human, she's completely healthy and as perfect as she can be."
He had no clue what a bombshell he'd dropped in my lap as he stood and bent over to kiss me goodbye. "I'll stop back in when I know something more."
I nodded, freaking out inside that we were having a girl, and disappointed beyond words that she was human. If she'd been magical, we could've taken her to Hell with us.
We could visit Earth as angels, for days at a time. But we couldn't stay. There would be no other option but to find her an adoptive human family.
To do anything else would be selfish to the sweet girl. She couldn't very well grow up with parents that were only around every few days.
Gabe kissed me after Michael disappeared and said something about finding a way to kill Lucifer, but I didn't absorb his words as joy and sorrow raced through me.
I was going to give birth to a baby girl, then I'd have to give her up.
12
Constance-Lilith
Gabriel tried to kill Lucian so many times over the next week. His attempts grew more and more desperate—and comical—as the week progressed.
Wednesday, two days after he disappeared to try to find out who put a spell on Lucifer, he appeared as I woke up.
Pressing a finger to his lips, he grabbed a pillow from the foot of the bed, then tiptoed to the head. Lucian slept on his back with his mouth open as he snored lightly. I let Gabriel get close enough that he thought I'd let him get away with it, then flicked my finger while giving Gabe a flat look. The pillow disappeared from Gabe's hand. At the same time, I stuffed a bunch of the goose feathers it contained into his mouth.
He glared at me and disappeared.
Later the same day, I stopped Lucian before he walked out in front of a semi-truck. "What in the world is a truck that big doing on our street?" he exclaimed as he watched it drive past us. We were out for a walk before making dinner, enjoying the air before it turned colder.
"I have my guesses," I muttered.
The next day, I went to work with Lucian again, but things were quiet. Gabe must've been busy looking for who had cursed Lucifer. The day passed uneventfully, except for Lucian mentioning he'd been unable to get a hold of his good friend Adam.
Shit. We'd forgotten to take care of Adam now that he was dead, and Michael was back. I tried not to react. "I'm sure he'll call you soon," I muttered and hid my face behind my laptop.
Had Michael and Gabriel even taken care of Adam's body?
I made a mental note to ask them later, then buried myself in my editing. Gabe made an appearance in the form of a printer malfunction. It caught fire right behind Lucian with a small explosion. I looked up just in time to see the fire flash, then squashed the explosion to something smaller. We had fire extinguishers in the office, of course, so Lucian grabbed one and put the printer out in a flash.
Crisis averted.
The week continued in that vein until I was stopping Gabe's attempts as second nature.
Lucian helped me with the dishes, trying to force me to go relax. As much as I wanted to, I had to stay close to him and make sure he didn't die from a freak, as-seen-on-TV accident.
Lucian excused himself to go use the restroom, so I grabbed the pot of leftover soup we'd never eat and walked out the back door toward the compost pile. Constance had been getting into growing her food and had been planning a garden.
Lilith didn't give a shit.
As I turned back toward the house with my empty pot, wondering why I hadn't just put the soup down the garbage disposal—I wouldn't be around to reap the benefits of a compost pile anyway—the dog that had attacked me the week before bounded into the back yard.
My heart stopped for a second, then I realized what it was. I puffed out a relieved sigh and put my hands on my hips. "How did you get here?" I asked the Hellhound.
He wagged his tail and woofed.
