Before the Fall (9 page)

“Does Jael carry Lucifer’s child?”

“No. She carries two from another of the fallen. A follower of the one who will be the most high.”

“The most high?”

“Lucifer.”

He let go of Baka in disgust. Lucifer was not coming back. He would stay far away from him, knowing that Raphael would never do anything to harm Rebecca or Jael. He only hoped that Jael would be spared once she gave birth. He shuddered at the thought of what Baka would do to her if she bore daughters to him. He hoped they were sons even if it meant that Lucifer would get what he wanted.

“And Saleos? Does he belong to Lucifer?”

“No. He is of my seed.”

He sighed with relief. Not for Baka but for poor Jael. Maybe one of her children would be spared for her sake.

“Go home to your wife. You will protect her from harm and from Lucifer.”

Baka nodded to his command.

Raphael slowly made his way back home. He hoped against all hope that Lucifer had not succeeded with his conquest, that Rebecca was not with child. He then thought of the night they’d had together. There was hope that Lucifer had been too late, that if she was with child, it would be his own. He wished with all his heart that it would be a girl like Rebecca.

The alternative would be devastating for them both.

R
aphael gazed in awe at Rebecca and wondered how anyone could be more beautiful than she was at that moment. Where she bent over a pair of stones, wisps of dark hair waved loosely as she rolled a stone back and forth, crushing the grain. Her cheeks flushed pink from the sun and the exertion.

She paused every few moments and placed a hand on her growing belly, rubbing and patting it as if to make sure that the baby inside of her knew that he was loved. Every time she did that, Raphael thanked the Heavens that she was once again the sweet Rebecca that she had been before.

It hadn’t been easy, getting to where they were now. For weeks, she had moaned in her bed, mumbling about the burning. Every night she had woken up screaming and drenched in a cold sweat. He had tried taking her in his arms to comfort her, but that had made her scream even louder. When she had realized what she was doing, she had apologized profusely. Each time, he had claimed there was nothing to be sorry for. He loved her and would do anything to take the nightmares away.

Watching her suffer like that had broken his heart, and at one point he had even offered to use his mind manipulation to erase her memories. When she had looked at him, eyes widened with fright, he had known that was out of the question. It had been Lucifer’s use of mind manipulation in the first place that violated her trust in her own husband.

Then it all changed when she announced she was pregnant. She glowed with happiness when she shared the news with him. He couldn’t help but notice the look of determination in her eyes when she emphasized that she was bearing
his
child. Each day since that announcement, she had never looked happier. She even allowed Jeremiel to go with her into Ai on her daily water gathering.

Raphael hid his worries from her. He tried hard to believe that the child she was carrying was his. But there was always a tiny bit of doubt in his mind. The one thing that helped was watching Jeremiel immediately take on the role of big brother.

On his first trip into Ai, Raphael went with them. He knew Lucifer wouldn’t dare return and that Baka was not a threat, but he couldn’t help himself.

As they walked through the city gates, Raphael couldn’t help but smile at the way Jeremiel announced to everyone he met that he was going to be a big brother soon.

Raphael also noticed how the people of Ai were drawn to his young son. When he passed them, he could hear the people mutter how exquisite he was. Jeremiel had a natural charm about him and he was friendly with all he encountered.

“I brought you some more wheat, Mother.”

Raphael smiled as Jeremiel placed a bushel of wheat beside Rebecca. His golden hair, so much like his own, glistened in the sunlight. Jeremiel’s dimples flashed as he smiled at his mother and kissed her cheek. Raphael’s chest puffed out with pride as he remembered how the people of Ai had reacted to his son when they first saw him.

“Thank you, Jeremiel. Would you hand me the—”

Rebecca gasped as she clutched her stomach.

“Mother?” Jeremiel’s face looked at her with worry. “What’s wrong?”

She placed a hand on his little arm. “Nothing,” she wheezed. I think—”

Her faced contorted and she let out a cry.

“Rebecca!” Raphael ran to her side.

She looked up at him, a mixture of pain and excitement in her eyes. “It’s time.”

He scooped her up in his arms and headed inside the house.

“Father?” He heard Jeremiel’s frightened voice from behind him as he placed Rebecca down on the bed.

He squatted down to Jeremiel’s eye level and spoke calmly. “Your mother will be fine. Soon you will see your new sister.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Only for a little while. I need you to be brave, my son. Can you do that?”

He looked to Rebecca, who was panting in the bed. “She’s not going to die is she?”

“Of course not.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now I need you to do something for me.” He grabbed a small basket. “Go pick as many berries as you can. You know how your mother loves them. It will be a nice surprise for her when she is feeling better.”

Jeremiel took hold of the basket and headed out the door, but as he tugged on the knob to open it, he turned back to Raphael. “Can I have a brother instead? I don’t know if I want a sister.”

He chuckled. “I’ll try my best. Go on now.”

When Jeremiel was gone, he went back to Rebecca. “I sent Jeremiel to get some berries.”

“Will he be far enough? I don’t want him to hear me. It’ll frighten him.”

“I believe so.”

Jeremiel’s gift of enhanced hearing was becoming more pronounced as he grew older. It wasn’t yet the same as those of full angels. He had a feeling that it would be a matter of time before that would happen.

Rebecca’s face contorted again and she squeezed Raphael’s hand.

“Don’t hold back, Rebecca. Scream if you must.”

The hardest thing Raphael had ever done was watch Rebecca giving birth to Jeremiel. He felt so helpless not being able to ease her discomfort. He was the Archangel of Healing and he had the powers to soothe her pain. But when he had tried to help her, she had refused, saying that the pain had a purpose—knowing it meant that soon she would have his child in her arms—and that she wanted to experience every moment of it. He couldn’t have loved her more than in that moment when she said that.

Hours passed and she thrashed in bed moaning. It was taking too long. Time seemed to have passed quickly when she had Jeremiel. Something was wrong.

When Jeremiel returned with a basketful of berries, Raphael quickly sent him to milk the goat. He tried his best to wipe the worry from his face, knowing that his son was frightened by the noises his mother was making. When he saw Jeremiel’s face, he knew he had heard her.

Raphael placed a cool cloth on her forehead. “My love, please let me help you.”

She looked at him, hazel eyes pained. “No . . . He . . . he will be here . . . soon,” she panted.

Raphael closed his eyes and prayed. It had been a long time since he had done that. He would never ask anything for himself. All he could think about was her. What if Jeremiel’s fears came true? What if he lost her? Would that be his punishment for loving a woman? To be given a taste of true happiness only to have it taken away? If anyone should be punished, it should be him, not her.

Just when he couldn’t take it anymore, Rebecca released a wail, and her midsection lifted off the bed. Delicately he placed his hand at her entrance, fearful of causing her more pain than she was already suffering. Her breathing came out in harsh gasps as she tried to sit up. Her body glistened with a sheen of sweat. Her dark hair was plastered against her pale face.

“He’s . . . here . . . I . . . can feel him.” Her legs trembled as she let out a final scream.

Then, a tiny being slid into his hands.

Through hazy tears, he saw a dark head of hair. His heart beat with thunder at the sight of the infant.

“It’s a boy,” he sobbed as he quickly used his pinky to clean out the infant’s mouth.

“Bring him to me,” Rebecca said.

Gently, he placed the baby onto her chest.

“Lahash,” she said breathlessly as the baby began to suckle on her breast.

“Lahash,” he repeated. “He looks like you . . . beautiful.”

He worked swiftly as he cut the umbilical cord, trying to cause as little pain as possible to his exhausted wife.

“Give him to me, Rebecca. I’ll clean him up and swaddle him.”

Lahash threw out a wail as she gently tugged his mouth away from her chest. His tiny fists waved in the air.

As Raphael tenderly washed his newborn son and rubbed him with oil, all his doubts and fears vanished. Lahash was the image of his mother: hair, eyes, and lips.

He was about to wrap Lahash in swaddling clothes when the door slowly opened and Jeremiel’s head popped in. “Is it over?”

“Yes. It is. Come and meet your brother.”

“You did it! You made me a brother.” Jeremiel ran over to him. “Can I see him?”

Raphael bent down holding the baby at an angle so he could see. “This is Lahash.”

“He looks like a little old man.”

Raphael laughed. “You looked like that too when you were a baby—except you were bald.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why does the baby have so much hair?”

“He has your mother’s hair.”

“Oh.” Jeremiel’s lifted his hand and stopped midair.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeremiel’s looked up at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You can touch him. He won’t break.”

Lahash yawned, tiny fists flailing. Jeremiel touched his hand and Lahash immediately took hold of his finger.

“He’s strong.” Jeremiel grinned.

He tugged on Lahash hand. “When you grow up, I’ll teach you how to wrestle.”

He gently touched the baby’s fingers. “He’s so soft.”

Raphael reached down and stroked the baby’s other hand. “Yes, he is.”

“Father, your hands are like mine.” Jeremiel placed his hand next to Raphael’s thick, muscular ones.

“Lahash’s fingers are so long. Were mine like that when I was a baby?”

Raphael’s smile disappeared as he studied the baby’s hand. His breath hitched when he recognized the hands he had seen a million times before over the years.

“No, your hands were like mine.” He swallowed thickly as he looked down at Lahash. Gazing at the baby’s face, all he could see now was how he looked like his true father. His heart sank.

The baby in his arms felt like a heavy burden on his chest. And he prayed for strength to love the child as he did Jeremiel.

R
aphael leaned against the doorway as he watched Jeremiel hitch a scabbard and sword to his waist. His shoulder-length hair hung thick, partially covering his masculine face as he leaned over to adjust the weapon. His thick biceps flexed as he tightened the strap.

Time had flown by so fast. One day he was teaching Jeremiel to wield a sword, which was almost as big as he was. His face had turned red as he struggled to lift it more than an inch from the ground, determined to learn how to fight. Then, in what seemed like a blink of an eye, Jeremiel had pinned him to the ground, tossing the sword from one hand to the other as if it were as light as a feather.

Raphael took in the muscles of his son’s tanned body and the smattering of blond stubble along his chiseled jaw. He was not his little boy any more. He was a man.

“Is something wrong, Father?”

Raphael snapped to attention at the sound of Jeremiel’s baritone voice. He still couldn’t get used to the sound of it.

“Remember to watch your strength. Do not harm the others in the competition.”

Jeremiel turned to face him, his dimples flashing. “You told me that last year when I competed, and the year before that.” He gathered his hair back and tied a leather strip around it. “And the year before that.”

“Alright, alright.” Raphael handed him a bow and arrow. “You are different and you don’t want people to be hurt.”

“I know, Father. Each year that I’ve competed, I’ve intentionally lost. It was not an easy thing for me to do, especially with Saleos and his brothers rubbing it in my face.”

Ai’s governor had started the one-day competition almost a decade ago. It was a time of peace for the city. The army, under Baka’s leadership, had crushed all of the surrounding enemies. The governor claimed that the young men of the city needed something to keep them strong and to practice their battle skills. Each year, young men from the surrounding area came to the city to compete in a day filled with games of strength, skill, and speed

Baka’s son, Saleos, competed in the city’s competition every year. And each year, Saleos was victorious. Though most of the people of Ai and the surrounding community attended the yearly games, Rebecca refused to go, knowing that Baka was always there. Raphael had gone once and that was enough for him. It was a day full of men showing off their strength, brutality, and violence. It was crowds cheering the strong and jeering the weak.

On the one day he had attended, he’d been surprised to find Uriel there, and had wondered what had drawn him to it. He hadn’t competed. He had just stood to the side with the crowd, carefully watching the young men as if assessing for the best among them.

When Jeremiel had grown older, Raphael had reluctantly agreed to allow him to compete in the games. Rebecca had said that it would look more conspicuous if he didn’t. She had been right. So, each year he made Jeremiel promise to watch his strength and reminded him of his responsibilities for his gifts. He did not want Jeremiel to turn into someone like Baka’s sons.

“And I am pleased that you do, my son.” He was proud of Jeremiel for more than just being a kind and thoughtful young man. Word about Jeremiel and his performance in the competition came back to him. Everyone in the city loved him. Even though it was Saleos who won, Jeremiel was cheered as the city’s favorite. The days following each competition, gifts were brought to their home. Men from the city and even from the neighboring villages would come to their home, eager to have Jeremiel as their son-in-law. He knew that pride was a downfall for him, especially when it came to his son. He couldn’t help himself.