The Wicked & Divine

Chapter 6•Not Today Satan

It was clean, organized. Totally unlike the home I had grown up in.

The newspaper on the table read the year 2000. The pictures of blondes on magazine covers in low jeans, a shimmery purple halter top, and blue eyeshadow with thin eyebrows proved it.

I had almost forgotten that he was right behind me.

"I almost forgot how much I hated the early 2000's, gag" he says from behind me, a sickening crack as I turned to see his wings going down. "What are we even doing here?" I ask with the straightest, unrevealing face possible.

He quirks his lips out slightly, a deep frown etching into his beautiful face. I couldn't help it. He looked like a god (he is). The devil is a handsome man.

"You wanted to see didn't you? So look" he said, my frown dispersing as a babies cry echoed across the empty living room.

I looked back at him questioningly, before taking a hesitant step forward and down the hall. Turning, I walked into the only room with the door open.

There I was.

I was in a crib, crosses everywhere on it, all over the baby blue walls, and a rosary hanging above my sleeping face. I was tiny, practically fresh out the womb.

Three people surrounded me, my mother, mike, and the man I believed to be my father. The telltale sign was our strikingly similar eyes, hazel. His dirty blonde hair was in slight curls on his head, like a bright halo surrounding his sculpted face. He was tall, lean and fit, and was hugging my crying mother.

She smoothed the brown hairs on my head with a shaking hand, my father furious as he watched her.

"Dad-" I began, reaching out to him.

"He can't hear, nor see you. This is a glimpse into a memory" I heard his deep, baritone voice say from behind me. I looked behind me to see him leaning against the doorframe. Mugging him, he rolled his eyes.

I turned my head back, clutching onto myself as I watched the scene unravel. My father was a handsome man. And the way he held my mother and looked at me, I could tell he loved us a lot. Whatever my mom told me, I couldn't believe it. Clearly my father had been there after my birth. But what after? The pieces were missing and I needed them quick.

"What do we do mike? She's only a babe. He can't have my daughter and I won't let him" my father spoke, my eyes widened at his voice. He carried a heavy accent. European maybe. Though I couldn't pinpoint from where exactly.

"It's not that simple Michael. He always gets what he wants" Mike answered, a frown on his face as his eyes flickered to me with pity in his eyes.

"Hah, Mike and Michael" I heard Lucifer say from behind me.

Rolling my eyes, I carefully tuned back into the conversation, stepping forward.

"Well what do I do!? Take her to the heavens?" My father, Michael, stepped forward. The heavens? Was my father different too? Jesus Christ on a cracker.

"No! Do you know what lengths he'll go to? He will blow the horn and rage war until he gets what's his-"

"The sick fuck would blow it anyway! She's not his!" This time it was my mother's turn to yell, my sleeping form still sound asleep.

So she did know what was going on. I would assume that she was just as lost as me but apparently, I'm the only one.

"Then what do we do mike? Come on, you're the lords most trusted speaker. Tell me, how do I hide my daughter from Lucifer without him killing all mortals and the entire heavenly host at the same time?" My father sighed, placing his head in his hands.