It took Isobel much too long to make her way to the cemetery, mostly because her grandfather wouldn’t let her take any of the cars. Eva offered her the loan of her broom, but Isobel preferred to arrive alive, so she called a cab.

Then, she waited and waited and waited, only to discover an hour later when she called back, that Grandfather had cancelled it behind her back.

“You can’t stop me!” she yelled in the direction of the library. Now that she’d discovered rebellion, there was nothing he could do to prevent her from seeing Chris.

She used an app to arrange a ride with Uber. Something Grandfather couldn’t cancel.

Again, she waited and waited. She got a message from Uber claiming she’d missed her ride.

It seemed her Grandfather had the gates at the edge of the property shut, which meant the first Uber had left, and she was forced, grumbling and cursing, to hike down the driveway where she then had to climb the fence, using words that would have seen her mouth rinsed with bleach.

On the other side of the gate, she waited for a second Uber to arrive. And…lucky her, she got the only one who didn’t know how to use a GPS. He also didn’t speak much English, so her mention that they should turn left caused him to speed up. When she told him to turn right, he halted in the middle of traffic—on the highway.

It took a bit of convincing to get him going again, and when they finally arrived at the cemetery, he stopped only long enough for her to disembark before speeding off. Not that it mattered. She found her car parked outside the gates, keys in the ignition.

Had Chris stolen it on purpose so she would come see him? Earlier, she’d lied to him about wanting to be with him. As the Antichrist, he’d probably sensed it. But he’d respected her enough to realize he couldn’t force her.

Or he’d just stolen her car because he needed a ride.

Either way, she was here now.

Entering the graveyard, she wondered how long it would take Chris to come looking to see who trespassed.

Would he be happy to see her?

Perhaps run to swoop her into his arms and swing her around?

Or would he be facing off against a trio of angels?

Yeah, she’d have never guessed the last one in a million years, probably because Isobel had never seen any angels in real life.

They weren’t exactly as expected.

For one, they weren’t as tall as the stories made them out to be. Nor as good-looking. Of them, only one stood Chris’s height. However, his two companions were under six feet, possibly not even as tall as she. Their wings, though, did project up and over their shoulders, the tips jutting above, the span of them tucked tightly to their backs, the feathers mostly white with hints of gray.

They wore sleeveless tunics in a metallic silver substance that shimmered when they moved. Their pants appeared made of the same fabric, loose and tucked into gray combat boots.

All of them held weapons, two swords and a mace respectively. Not exactly peaceful-type angels, then, and they stood arrayed against Chris.

Chris didn’t stand alone. To one side was Bambi, whom Isobel had met once—and only once because her mother declared the succubus unfit to be around her daughters. On Chris’s other side she noted Muriel, who’d come to visit Grandfather once with her dad, again only once because Isobel’s mother didn’t like the Devil making himself comfortable in their home.

As for the third person, it seemed Chris had finally drawn the attention of Lucifer himself. Isobel took it as a good sign that Chris lived. Did that mean the question of his parentage had been answered?

Something tense brewed between all the parties, some sort of an argument, and as Isobel approached, she began to catch snippets of it.

“…think I would know if he sprang from my loins. Look at him. No way does he share my incredible genes.”

The big angel in the middle said, “Saint Peter saw him in a vision.”

“And what of it?” Muriel asked. “Peter also saw the Titanic sinking and did nothing to stop it.”

Angel number two stated, “It is our mission to eradicate anyone calling themselves the son of Satan.”

Chris shook his finger at them. “First off, I said Son of Perdition. But that’s only one of my titles as the Antichrist. I’ll also answer to the King of Babylon and the Adversary.”

“You can’t use those names. I haven’t yet decided if you’re my son.” Lucifer huffed.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be your son. Ever think of that? Who wants a dad who can’t be bothered to come visit once in a while?”

“Why would I visit an imposter?”

“How would you know if I am? You probably slept with my mother once and then took off. Lowlife.” Chris deliberately antagonized the Devil.

“What did you call me?” Lucifer stood nose-to-nose with Chris, leaving the angels looking on with confusion, Muriel frowning, and Bambi clapping her hands.

The stand-off seemed ridiculous. So Isobel placed two fingers into her mouth and blew.

As everyone’s eyes turned to her, including a pair shining with orange fire, it occurred to her that, perhaps, she should have let them fight it out.

But now that Isobel had their attention, she might as well speak. “Listen, since we’re all gathered here, maybe—”

“Isobel?” Chris pushed past Lucifer and the others. “Why are you in my dream? You told me to go away.”

“Dream? This isn’t a dream.”

His brow furrowed. “It has to be. Because why else would you be here?”

“Because—” She took in a deep breath and held herself straight. “—I told my grandfather I wanted to be with you.”

A slow smile stretched his lips. “You did?”

“Yes. As soon as you left, I knew I’d made a mistake, and so I’m here to see if you’ll give me a second chance.”

“Of course, but…” Once again, a frown overtook his expression. “This isn’t real. Is it? I’m going to wake up and you’ll still be gone.” His lips turned down.

Isobel didn’t know why he thought he imagined her appearance. She suspected the lingering scent of beer might be partly to blame for that doubt. She cupped his face, holding his cheeks, forcing his gaze to remain locked with hers. Lifting herself up on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his and whispered, “Does this feel fake?”

The shock of the contact didn’t surprise her as much since she expected it. The tremble of her entire being, the ground, the world itself seemed normal now. The hard slant of his mouth as he took over the kiss, feeding the simmering passion within, made her sigh.

His hands clasped her waist and drew her close, pressing her tightly to him. Letting her feel his strength, the subtle power. The annoyance that coursed through him and made him tense when several someones interrupted.

“Sinner!”

“How romantic.”

“Gag me with a spoon.”

“The Desolater seeks to despoil the virgin.”

“I’ve got condoms if you need some.”

With a sigh mixed with a growl, Chris pulled from the kiss and turned back to face the crowd. “Would you cock blockers fuck off? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Heat filled Isobel’s cheeks at his brusque retort, and yet, she understood his frustration. It seemed at every turn they were foiled.

“I’ll be damned by myself, but that’s something I’d say,” Lucifer exclaimed.

“So you acknowledge he’s your son,” stated the big angel.

“I admit nothing. And you can’t make me.” The Devil stood with his arms crossed, smirking at the angel. “I also know that, despite your orders to check him out, you can’t kill the boy without absolute proof of who he is. Look at him? He’s soft and pathetic. Not even close to being evil enough to be my son.”

Eyes swung to Chris, and he looked back at them defiantly. “I am too evil.”

Isobel clucked her tongue. A bad time to use the truth. “Before we decide if anyone is evil and deserving of an angelic cleansing, shouldn’t we see if he’s even related to the Devil?” she asked.

“Way to be on my side,” Chris grumbled.

“He looks nothing like me!” Lucifer declared. “And everyone knows I don’t have any sons. Just a blasted amount of daughters to plague me.” He glared at Muriel, who glared right back.

“I say we eliminate him. Anyone calling himself the Antichrist isn’t fit to walk this earth,” stated the big angel.

Bambi cleared her throat. “Now, boys, while I usually love a good fight—all that testosterone is so delicious—perhaps we should calm down. Talk things over. I’d be more than happy to be interrogated. One on one, or the three of you at once.” Bambi trailed a finger down the chest of the lead angel, who visibly swallowed.

He also couldn’t hide an erection.

Angels might strive to be good and chaste; however, even they were no match for a succubus like Bambi.

The angels backed away, making the sign of the cross as Bambi licked her lips, causing one to hit the ground, hands clasped, praying. Lucifer began complaining that no one paid him enough mind, and Chris told him to go to Hell. As for Isobel…

She heard the roar of engines and looked over to the road leading to the cemetery and saw a stream of vehicles arriving. A half-dozen or so that screeched to a halt behind her car and spilled forth a multitude of people, dressed in dark robes—humans, she’d wager—carrying bats and bars and even a few guns.

The new arrivals marched and chanted, the words not yet distinguishable but obviously ominous.

Isobel turned back to the arguing group. “Um, guys. We have company.”

No one paid her any mind. So she once again resorted to a loud whistle. But, this time, everyone ignored it. Harder to ignore was the gunshot, especially since the person had decent aim and hit the lead angel in the wing, leaving a dark hole, which quickly filled with blood, red blood that stained his white feathers.

“My wing!” he screeched, sounding almost like a bird.

“We are attacked,” yelled the shortest fellow, brandishing his mace.

“Aha, about time some minions appeared to worship the great and mighty Dark Lord.” Lucifer slicked back his hair and straightened his back then yelped as the next gunshot took a chunk of his epaulette off his shoulder. “Fuckers! You dare to fire upon me?”

Before Isobel could react, Chris did, whirling from the group to grab hold of her and tuck her behind a gravestone.

“Stay here,” he admonished. Such a guy thing to do. So very hot. But really, what could Chris do against an angry mob of—

“Larry, long time no see.”

Friends? He knew them?

“Seize the wicked one,” shouted the very bald Larry. “We must bring him to our mistress. Kill the others.”

“Now, hold on a second,” Lucifer huffed. “Are you sure you want the boy? He’s but a pretender. I, on the other hand, am—”

Being shot at. Wearing an expression of disbelief, Lucifer quickly conjured a shield, a large one, and held it in front of him. It deflected the many missiles being fired, protecting not only him but also Bambi and Muriel.

“Take your sister to the castle,” Lucifer commanded.

“But I want to help,” Muriel insisted.

“With what?” Lucifer retorted. “These humans are wielding guns, not magic. Bambi.” He snapped her name, and it was enough to have the succubus ushering her sister through a rift, with Muriel vowing to “return with my Hell sword and smite you all for shooting at me.”

Once those shooting realized they couldn’t hit Lucifer, they changed targets. The angels didn’t have the same kind of protection as the Devil. The bullets hit and hurt them, and Isobel couldn’t help but cringe at all the blood. The rumors of their mortality appeared true. Yet, their injuries didn’t stop the angels. A righteous light glinted in their eyes as they ran at the mob.

The two sides engaged, and for a moment, the gunfire stopped, but only because they battled in hand-to-hand combat.

As for Christopher, he still tried talking to the attackers while, at the same time, attempting to hold off those doing their best to grab hold of him.

Why did these men—and a few women—in robes want him so badly?

“Yoo-hoo. Over here. Anyone want to play?” Feeling ignored, Lucifer strode toward the fighting groups, a taller version of Napoleon with a shadow sword in hand. When he swung, the blade left no mark, spilled no blood, and yet those Lucifer touched fell to the ground. Soundless. Unmoving. Dead.

Isobel blinked and blinked again because she could swear she saw their spirits rising from the bodies. Their essences hovered in the air, confused, but that quickly changed to fear when a small vortex appeared. Isobel saw their ghostly mouths open in a silent scream as the rift sucked in their souls. A direct route to Hell was her assumption.

Fascinating. She’d never seen that before.

The battle waged on, the angels succumbing to their wounds and collapsing to the ground. Not so the Dark Lord.

One by one, Lucifer felled the attacking men until there was only one left grappling with Chris. A futile gesture since Chris had him in a headlock.

“Who sent you?” Christopher growled. “Why are you coming after me? For almost twenty years, you and the gang have been gone from my life. Why now? What do you want?”

By his words, Isobel realized she looked at the cult that had once upon a time worshipped Chris. The cult that had made him believe he was the Antichrist.

When Lucifer approached Chris and the last cult member, he drew back his shadow sword, ready to kill, only to stop when Chris said, “Don’t kill him yet. We need answers.”

“Answers I can get via interrogation in Hell,” Lucifer retorted.

A cackle escaped the man’s lips. “My soul is not bound for Hell. Those of us who serve the mother of the Son of Anarchy are slated for another plane. One not within your reach. The time is coming. The horsemen wake. The apocalypse is nigh. Soon, the Baphomet reign shall end, and the true Destroyer of Nations will take your place.” The cult guy didn’t have the common sense to shut up. The more he spoke, the more Lucifer’s eyes burned, the orbs awash with the flames of Hell while smoke poured from his ears.

“Who is this mistress you speak of? And how dare she try to stick me with a kid I didn’t beget!” Lucifer roared.

“She is everything. She is coming for you.” The fellow’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he began to shake. “As the son awakens, so does the mistress. He is the—the—”

“The what? What am I?” Chris shook the guy, but the fellow was past speaking. His mouth foamed, a bloody-hued mess as he continued to shake and tremble.

Chris dropped him and stepped away. A good plan because the fellow kept shaking. More disturbing, parts of him cracked and reformed.

“What’s happening?” Isobel asked, taking a tentative step toward Chris.

“It’s old magic,” Lucifer muttered. “A magic long ago eradicated. How is it here? This shouldn’t be possible.”

“Guess you should have done a better job.”

“Maybe, instead of baiting each other, you should stop this?”

Lucifer arched a brow. “Stop it? Why do that? I, for one, am curious to see what happens.”

Isobel would prefer not knowing because a knot in her stomach indicated that this wouldn’t be good.

The last cult member wasn’t the only one to change. All the bodies on the ground began to move, pulled as if by a magnet to surround the now unrecognizable heap that had started it all. Wet slops, crunching bone… Isobel could only watch in horrified fascination as the bodies combined. Even the dead angel joined the macabre party to form something monstrous. Something huge.

Lucifer didn’t look all that impressed, but he did crack his knuckles. “You might want to move back, boy, and watch how a real Baphomet male handles danger. Or don’t. If you die, then I won’t have to worry about another imposter.”

“Go ahead. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the pleasure.” Chris stepped back until he stood by Isobel’s side. “Get ready to run.”

“Why? Do you know what it is?” she whispered.

“I think it’s my mom,” he said, his tone partly horrified but also fascinated.

Isobel didn’t share the fascination, but she bet her grandfather would have. After all, whatever loomed over them used magic to pull it together and even more magic to animate its movements. Necromantic magic.

Was Chris’s mother the person they’d been looking for?

“Would you look at that? Excellent construction.” Lucifer clapped.

No wonder the Devil got along with her grandfather. Still, Isobel could understand why he was impressed. The thing, monster, whatever you wanted to call it, towered over them. While the cult fellow might have provided the heart for the beast, the massive angel formed the head, a tiny head for a big monster. His jaw hung slackly, the eyes unseeing, but words still spilled out, eerie and deep, yet, at the same time, feminine.

“Give me my son.”

“You want the boy?” Lucifer turned to look at Chris and studied him. The Devil shrugged and turned around. “Take him if you want him. He’s no one to me.”

“You would deny your heir?” The voice hissed, the malevolence in it raising the hairs on Isobel’s body.

“Yeah, about the whole he’s my son thing…” Lucifer planted his hands on his hips and perused the monster from the top of its bulging form to the bottom. “Pretty sure I’d remember fucking you, and since I don’t, I’m going to call bullshit on your claim. So, why don’t you grab the little bastard and run back to whatever dimension you crawled out of and leave my planet alone.”

A chuckle emerged. Wet and rattling. Very unnerving.

“Deny it. It makes no difference. The fork of the prophecy has been chosen.”

“You don’t say. And which prophecy would that be?”

“The one where the Abomination of Desolation rules the world and the planes connected to it.”

“Ah, that one.” Lucifer rubbed his chin. “And how will that work if the boy dies?” Whirling, Lucifer thrust his hand at Chris and Isobel.

Chris moved faster than Isobel would have expected, ducking down and to the side, dragging her with him, just in time as a fireball swept past, singing the air in its path.

“Motherfucker tried to kill me,” Chris snapped.

And Isobel would bet he’d try again.

When Chris would have stood to confront Lucifer, Isobel held him down, mostly because the monster that claimed Chris was her son screeched and attacked.

More like flopped onto the Devil, caging him in a hold of disjointed bodies.

“Is he—” Before Chris could finish the query, they could hear the mad laughter, male laughter.

“Stupid interdimensional hag, do you think this is my first rodeo with the dead?”

Body parts began to separate from the monstrous construction, and Isobel watched a leg fly by before saying, “I think this is our cue to leave.”

“But…” Chris turned to look back as Isobel dragged him toward the road and her car.

“Do you really want to stick around and have them kill you?” Because Lucifer apparently wanted him dead, and who knew what his body-snatching mother intended?

“Good point.” Lacing his fingers with hers, Chris raced with her across the cemetery to where her car still sat parked on the side of the road.

“I’ll drive,” he announced as he vaulted the fence and paused to lift her over. She wanted to smile at the gesture, but the noise from behind her kind of curbed the moment. A quick peek over her shoulder showed Lucifer taunting the big monster, dancing through its limbs, slashing here and there. Laughing.

She looked away and noted something she’d missed before. “You dented my car,” she stated.

“Me? Probably those cult guys.” He smiled through his lie, and she shook her head.

Now was not the time to deal with it.

When he would have jumped into the driver seat, she hip checked him out of the way. “Oh no you’re not. You’ve done enough damage to my car.”

“Are you going to whine about a few dents and scratches?”

“No, because you’re going to pay to repair them.”

“Can’t we just claim it on your insurance?” he asked, rounding the other side of the car.

“And have my rates go up?” She shook her head. “Not on my policy you’re not.”

They piled into her car just as a mighty roar erupted. She cast a quick peek through the passenger window and noted the monster, standing upright again but missing jagged chunks. Fire licked at some of its parts.

She pulled on her seatbelt before starting the car, and he grumbled, “Seriously? Worried about safety at a time like this?”

Slamming her foot on the gas, lurching them forward, she grinned as he caught himself on the dash before slamming his face into it. “Better hold on if you’re not going to buckle up.”

Her little car couldn’t quite squeal its tires, and its electric engine wasn’t loud, but the battling adversaries still took notice. A fireball streaked at them, and Chris yelled, “Faster.”

Since faster wasn’t happening, Isobel instead slammed the brakes, and the fireball singed past her hood, searing the paint.

“Fuck!” Chris yelled, having once more hit the dash. “My nose. I think it’s broken.”

She slammed on the gas again to get them going and remarked, “It will give it character.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Should have worn a seatbelt.”

He grumbled, and mumbled something about bossy women, but she heard the click as he finally fastened the restraint.

No more fireballs followed them, but she could see flames lighting up the sky in her rearview mirror. Luckily, the road into the cemetery formed a crescent, so they soon hit the main streets, but not before a giant explosion rocked them, shaking her little car.

“What the fuck was that?” Chris craned to look through the rear window. “I think they blew up my cemetery.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Lucifer wouldn’t want to leave any evidence behind.”

“I kind of think people will notice a whole cemetery getting blown to pieces.”

“They’ll blame it on a gas leak. Or methane gas igniting.”

“I don’t know if I should be bothered by your nonchalance when it comes to cover-ups or turned on.”

She shrugged. “I’m a Rasputin. It’s part of my studies.” What her studies didn’t cover was what to do when a sorceress of some kind with ancient magic and Lucifer wanted to kill the man she loved?

Even if the fire killed the monster, would that stop his mother? And what of Lucifer? If he thought Chris was a threat, he’d come after them. Where could she take Chris to keep him safe?

I need somewhere the Devil can’t go. Neutral ground.

“Let me ask you, when was the last time you went to a church?” Isobel asked.

“How about never? Antichrist, remember, even working in a graveyard is pushing it. Feels like I’ve got holy ants constantly crawling over my skin.”

“Well, you’re going to have to suck it up, King of Babylon, because, right now, I’m going to wager that a church is probably the safest place for you.”

For them both, because Lucifer wouldn’t dare attack a church, and that thing calling itself Mother probably couldn’t enter either. And as for the angels…even they might hesitate to shed blood in the house of God.

At least, that was what she gambled.

Now, she only hoped that stepping inside wouldn’t turn Chris into a living torch. Just in case, she let him walk in first.