36
All the TV screens in the electronics store flashed the breaking news symbol across their screens. But the real news was right there in the street. People with scared faces flocked around Evan. The boy had grown into a teenager overnight, and Elvira loved him more than ever. Her son hadn’t slept at all since his birth, but she had gotten to close her eyes for a couple of hours while Evan, with Nurse Raphael in tow, cured every patient in the hospital.
The blind could see, the deaf could hear, the disabled could walk. Everyone sang his praise, but Elvira worried for him. At any moment, she expected government vehicles with tinted glass to swoop in and take him away from her. The news about Evan’s miraculous healing powers had spread like wildfire through the city, and people came running, hoping to feel his touch. All of the big news networks kept requesting interviews with the wonder boy, but so far Elvira had managed to stave them off.
She looked at him now, his blond hair reaching his shoulders, his bright turquoise eyes like two beacons of hope in the camera flashes. But it was as if only she could see that they were bloodshot and that lines of exhaustion started to spread across his young face.
The people were pushing so – all desperate for their turn. Elvira wanted to scream at them to leave him alone, but Evan didn’t seem to mind. Calm and collected, he listened to everyone’s problems and then spread his fingers across their foreheads.
The stream of people was endless, and when Raphael finally stepped in and said that it was enough for now, the outrage was instant. People cried out and started sobbing. But Evan’s response was to shake his head.
“These people need my help,” he said. “You don't have to watch over me.”
“You must allow yourself to rest, lest you burn yourself out.” Tall and commanding, Raphael swept her hand over the crowd. “This is an unending current.”
“You said I’m a savior to these people. What kind of savior would turn his back on those in need?”
His words opened a lock in Elvira’s heart, finally releasing all the pain she’d been carrying so long. Love mended the old wounds and rejuvenated her soul. Lucy had been right – this boy was her redemption.
“You’re not turning your back on them. They’ve waited all their lives for you. A few hours more while you rest isn’t unreasonable,” Raphael said, her voice level and clear despite all the noise from the crowd.
“No,” Evan said and turned away.
“Listen to me–”
“I think we’re fine here,” Elvira said, interrupting at the tall nurse. “You can go back to the hospital now.”
Raphael gave her an icy look. For a moment, Elvira thought that the nurse would slap her, then she squinted, and a blossoming smile melted away the frost in her eyes.
“Your son reminds me of someone I used to know,” Raphael said, her blue eyes dreamily watching a small cloud in the shape of a dove. “The same ceaseless need to help others – the same compassion and love – the same purity and innocence.”
“What, um… what happened to them?” Elvira said, trying to be polite even though she didn’t care much.
Raphael shrugged. “They killed him.”
“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago – another life entirely.”
They watched Evan in silence. The masses were growing thicker, and helicopters now circled above the rooftops. Most of them were marked with the logos of the news networks, but some were plain black. In the distance, the Statue of Liberty loomed between the skyscrapers.
Suddenly, a sharp cry cut through the noise of the crowd. Elvira gasped and rushed to Evan’s side. Raphael was already there, grappling with a man whose head was crowned by two dark horns curling out of his forehead.
“Woe to you oh Earth and sea…” the man spat.
“Let him go,” Evan said, licking the blood from a gash on his arm. “He’s very sick, but I will cure him.”
“Stay back please,” Raphael grunted, wrestling with the man.
“The son of Lucifer must die!” The man kicked and screamed, frothing and drooling. “Death... Death...”
“I will help you,” Evan said and took a step closer. "Fear not."
“Don’t! He’s not what you think!” Raphael looked pleadingly at Elvira. “Please, stop your son!”
Elvira’s eyes shifted between the nurse and the man whose face was twisted into a red mask of hatred and contempt. A hunch told her that she should trust Raphael, but who was she to decide who deserved Evan’s help and not? She shook her head.
Evan’s hand reached out, touching the sweaty forehead of the man. Raphael’s eyes went wide, and for a moment time froze.
“What’s your name?” Evan said, his voice soft and caring.
“Sorath.”
Evan nodded. “Tell me about your illness.”
“I’ve… been plagued… for eons… by visions... and fits of rage...” The man panted as he spoke, the dark horns on his head flickering in and out of reality. He lifted his shirt, revealing a mark seared into his skin – three sixes of burnt flesh. “This is my number.”
“I can feel that you’re suffering, and I will purge this demon from your soul.” Evan took a deep breath. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Go back to where you belong, servant of Hell.”
A maniacal grin spread across the man’s face. “As you desire...”
The man started convulsing, tears of blood rolling down his cheeks. His eyes rolled back into his skull, and then he was just still. He coughed once. The horns were gone, and so was the twisted skin on his face.
“T-thank you,” the man mumbled, and the crowd started cheering and clapping.
Evan turned to Raphael, a smug smile dancing on his lips. “See, angel, I got this. Go home.”
“But, that’s–”
“I said go home.”
Raphael nodded, sorrow and disappointment clear in her face, but Evan didn’t seem to notice. He instead turned to Elvira.
“I’m really tired, mom,” he said. “I need some rest.”
Elvira wrapped her arms around him, still shaken by the strange incident. “Of course, baby, let’s find a place for you to sleep.”
***
A shimmering matrix of silky white – almost like a turbulent mist, yet somehow more alive – enveloped Amanda. It was hard to see herself, where her body ended, and where the white began. If ‘crowded and tight’ was a sensation, then this was exactly it. It reminded her of pushing through the New Year’s crowd at Times Square. The same relief and hope swirled around her, as well. Endings and beginnings. Accomplishments and prospects.
Then she felt something pierce her core, pulling her out of the crowd. A stream of unwanted emotions rushed back into her body. Pain. Despair. Sadness. Guilt. She gasped. Someone was carrying her – cradling her like a newborn.
“Marc?” Her words were viscous, slow to leave her mouth.
“Not quite.”
Amanda blinked, her eyes sore and sticky. The River of Souls stretched out across the blasted landscape of the infernal plains, its milky water a striking contrast to the yellow sand and gray ashes around it. She felt herself lowered to the ground. Silhouettes of black wings covered the burning sky.
“You did get the short end of the stick in all of this,” Abaddon said. “Now we’re even.”
Amanda opened and closed her mouth, unable to decide where to start. “How did you find me?”
“I see all the souls passing through the river.” Abaddon turned away, spreading his massive wings.
“I died…” Amanda mumbled. “Am I dead? Wait!”
The angel of death remained silent, but his face was the color of the ashes.
Amanda pushed herself up, the riverbed swaying under her feet. She pointed at him. “You betrayed Marc! Why?”
“I’m making amends for it now. I should’ve been there to protect you from Wormwood. Protecting you was my duty.”
“I meant opening the freaking Gates of Hell!” Amanda cried. “How could you?!”
Abaddon looked at her with sudden disinterest. “I must go.”
“He’s dead!” Amanda took the last few steps, swinging her fists in the direction of the fallen angel. “Marc is dead! Don’t you care about that?”
Abaddon moved slightly, and Amanda fell in the sand, tears streaming down her face. He turned away, his wings beating up clouds of dust.
“Try not to die again,” he said and took off into the sky.