“It’s my moms,” Mei cries, dropping to her knees within the survivor circle, wincing as she holds a hand to her side. “We’re going to be okay.”
Thankfully, she’s right. Through the combined efforts of the adults in our lives, the demons are defeated and sent back to hell without any more lives lost. All that’s left is dealing with the aftermath.
Donovan and I collapse to the ground, what little adrenaline we had vanishing with the final, vengeful scream of the last demon trapped in hell. My parents immediately start looking us over, searching for any deep wounds that need immediate attention. When they find that our injuries, though painful, won’t lead to us bleeding to death, they pull us into comforting embraces.
“You did so well,” my mom murmurs in my ear, rocking me side to side. “I’m so proud of you. It’s okay now. You’re safe.”
My hands are stiff as I relax them enough to release my weapons. They clang when they hit the ground, sounding wrong to my ears. Dropping my weapons makes me vulnerable, andhow can I protect everyone if I can’t defend myself? I hear my mother’s words, but they don’t sink in. Tonight has taught me that we aren’t safe. Even in this small town, danger will find us.
Looking over her shoulder at the confused souls that will need help crossing and the huddled survivors who are being tended by the witches, I recognize that there are more alive than dead. Next to me, Donovan grumbles that he’s fine, but he doesn’t fight my father’s hug. If I wasn’t here, if I didn’t know how to fight, there could have been far more lost souls, and Donovan could have been one of them.
Pulling back so I can look into my mother’s eyes, I take my first step out of the perfect Kaleb mold. “I’m not going to medical school. When the time comes, I’m going with Donovan to fight demons.”
Donovan scoffs then groans from aggravating a wound on his stomach. “Do I get a say in the matter?”
“No,” I answer curtly, refusing to go into all the obvious reasons that he needs me with him.
“Son,” my father begins, his voice taking on that soothing therapist tone, “you’ve been through a lot tonight. It makes sense that you feel the need to fight against demons as a way to take back control. By preemptively attacking them, you feel like you can stop this from happening again.”
Donovan rolls his eyes and then pulls away from my father. “Except that’s not a fucking feeling. It’s a fact. Kaleb has had my back with every demon I’ve ever faced, and guess what? The demons are dead, and we aren’t. Why bother training him at all if you never expected him to fight?”
“Because it’s important he knows how to defend himself,” my mother counters, her voice straining to remain calm.
“I don’t see a lot of demon attacks in an operating room,” Donovan challenges, surprising me that he’s pushing this hard to defend my decision.
“Mom, Donovan is right. You taught me how to fight demons.” There’s no anger or frustration in my voice, just a calm determination brought forth from a certainty that this is the life meant for me. “You taught me that there is no difference between light and dark nephilim other than the color of their wings. It’s time that at least one of us starts doing our part with the dangerous work. I can fight demons just as well as Donovan.”
“Debatable,” Donovan mutters, but I ignore him.
“Why should I be privileged with the opportunity of a long life while Donovan stares at a ticking clock where each battle might be his last?” I lift a tired hand to hold my mother’s, my fingers pressing into her palm. “I can’t live with myself knowing I have the ability to fight, that my blade could make the difference in whether or not a person lives another day, and choose to squander it.”
My mother squeezes my fingers. “Kaleb, the concilium will never allow it.”
“Then it will be up to them to stop me, and they’ll have to justify to the rest of our people why helping the souls who died at the hands of demons are less worthy than the ones who die on my future operating table,” I state matter-of-factly as I slowly get to my feet.
“But that’s not—” My father starts is cut off by Donovan.
“But he will be,” he says, groaning as he also works to get to his feet. “It’s not like Kaleb is just going to leave the ghosts sitting around waiting for someone else to find them.”
Both my parents stand up, their mouths full of counterarguments and placations to take time before making life-changing decisions when in shock, but Mildred briskly interrupts.
“Where’s Callie?” she asks, worry filling her eyes. “I can’t find her anywhere.”
“She never came inside,” Donovan answers, clearly uncomfortable under Mildred’s powerful gaze. “James never showed up to the dance, so we think she went to find him.” He grimaces when he takes a deep breath. “Connor and Nolan went after her, and I’m pretty sure Connor’s wolf is part bloodhound, so I doubt she’s alone.”
“She’s safe at our home,” Nolan’s mother, Lillian, announces while her husband paces back and forth on the phone. “Apparently, there was some altercation. Nolan didn’t specify, but Callie is with him at our home.”
“Good, good,” Mildred mutters on a deep exhale. She looks at the scene around her, and it’s obvious she’s torn between wanting to go to her granddaughter and knowing she’s needed here.
It’s up to the witches to clean up the mess, heal the injured, and weave a new set of memories for the humans that don’t involve demons or the rest of the supernatural world. Normally, I don’t like the rule that humans have to have their memories wiped if they ever find out about us, but in this instance, it’s probably a blessing. Their memories will have to be sad ones to give possible explanations for the loss of life, but they won’t be burdened with the visceral horror of what can await them in the afterlife.
Lillian rests a gentle hand on Mildred’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll look after Callie while you manage all this. My mother will stay here and help.”
“Thank you for volunteering me, daughter, as if I’m a child who had some hand in this mess,” Dalia calls out as she wipes the blood off her blade with a handkerchief from her pocket.
Lillian sighs and replies, “Mother, you’re a doctor. People are injured. It should be obvious that you would stay and help.” Ignoring Dalia’s grumbling, she continues in a gentle voice. “As I was saying, Robert and I will return home and watch over her.”
“I’m coming too,” Donovan volunteers, gingerly picking his blades up from the ground and wiping the blood off on his ruined shirt before sliding them back into their sheaths hidden within his boots. He hands the enchanted dagger back to me, and I slip it under my belt at the base of my spine.
