I can resist everything except temptation. -Oscar Wilde

Raziel rode next to me in silence. As I drove, the energy within me ebbed to a level that was manageable, but it didn't leave me completely, as it had before.

I parked in the driveway of our little house, and sat there, building up the nerve to go inside and show my loved ones what I had become.

None of this seemed fair to Michael. He hadn't agreed to any of this. Now I was going to walk in, a white-haired freak, and expect him to roll with this, as he had with everything else so far. How accepting can a man be expected to be? And what of the boys? Ike was little. He took everything in stride, but poor Donny was fighting his own battle. What if all this was just too much? What if I was hurting them in some way, just by being me?

"You do not give your husband enough credit, Simone. Your marriage was no accident. The two of you have gifts well matched to one another," Raziel told me.

"Michael is the best person I've ever known. I've never felt good enough for him," I said.

"Assigning a value amount to goodness is an oddly human proclivity."

I wasn't inclined to argue with him. I got out, and walked away. He could follow if he chose. I didn't care.

I entered the house through the kitchen door, Raziel on my heels, and found Michael sitting at the table, hands around a cup of coffee. I sat down next to him. The moment he looked up at me, his eyes softened, and my fears were gone.

"Oh, God, Simone. What happened to you?" He asked.

"I spoke like a real prophet. Charlton Heston on the mountaintop, you know?" My attempt at levity fell flat.

He reached out and stroked my white hair. "I'm terrified that this is killing you. You've been asked to do too much. It's not right. The world is too dangerous right now. I'm scared for you. For all of us." His eyes swam with tears. He went back to studying his beverage. "I love you so much," he said.

"I love you, too," I replied, wishing I had better words. These seemed far too common.

He sniffed, still avoiding my gaze. I settled my hand on his strong arm. "Michael? Did something happen? Are you upset about more than what's going on with me?"

"Life has been a pretty wild ride lately, eh?" he said.

"That's fair to say," I agreed.

"So...I went to the woods today."

Michael had always been a far more social person than me, but whenever he felt he was experiencing a lack of balance or he needed to seek wisdom or peace, he would go back to the woods where we had first met. He would walk among the towering, ancient trees that had somehow survived the invasion of men, and take comfort and satisfaction from the feel of the good earth beneath his feet. It didn't surprise me that he'd left the boys with Mrs. Walczak and gone walking on this, of all, days.

"You know the spot, right? The fallen tree?"

I did. It was one of his favorite places to sit and rest.

"When I was near there, I heard voices, so I walked that way. When I got a little closer, I saw a pretty big group. They were all standing in a circle, each one with a candle. One man stood in the middle and said something in another language. Celtic maybe? Norse? Hell, I don't know. Not anything I've ever heard before. Then, in English, he said, 'We are here to honor the gods.'

"Everyone else responded, just like a Call To Worship in Sunday morning church. They said:

We all come from the Goddess

And to Her we have returned;

As our ancestors Worshipped Her

Air, land and sea,

Hoof and horn, hoof and horn,

All that dies shall be reborn.

Corn and grain, corn and grain,

All that falls shall rise again."

He looked so frightened that it tore at my heart. I couldn't remember ever seeing him like this.

"Why can I remember that, Simone? I remember every word of it, just as clear as I remember the Pledge of Allegiance."

He choked on a sob and covered his face with his hands.

My heart ached. I had no answer, and he knew it. I laid my head on his shoulder, the only pathetic comfort I could offer.

The angel, who had been standing silent during this exchange, moved closer. He stood between us, with one hand on each of our shoulders. He opened a door for me into my husband's memory.

Michael stood in the woods, the dappled sunlight dancing all around him. From his vantage point, hidden by a stand of birch saplings with ivy strung between them, he saw the man in the center of the group, tall and thin, with long brown hair pulled back away from his face. He spoke to the assembly around him with a loud, clear voice. His words were formal, ceremonial.

"We are blessed, my dearest friends. We have come to dwell in this place in a very special time. For thousands of years our ancestors have called upon The Gatekeeper to intercede for us between this world and the other. There is no need for us to cry out any longer. She who has one foot in each realm has come to bless us with wisdom, and every good gift."

When he stopped, a woman stepped through the circle of watchers, toward the middle. Michael's body responded to her instantly and powerfully. She was so beautiful it was difficult to look at her, yet impossible not to. He was burning with desire and wracked with guilt. He longed to be closer to her.

A long white robe trailed behind the woman. The fabric clung to her body, revealing every curve. She raised up her arms, and addressed the gathering.

"I have heard your cry. I have sought to live among you, and finally, after eras of being held back by other gods, jealous gods, malevolent gods, your prayers and your faith have freed me."

Michael shook. Tears ran down his cheeks as he watched her.

She continued, "It is your belief, the purity of your worship of me, that has given me strength. Now you have the opportunity to help your goddess achieve the station we have all longed for." One worshipper fell to her knees. People wept, and whispered to one another in awe.

"It's her!"

"She's come!"

"At last!"

"Thanks be!"

She said, "The earth, which nourishes you, and is a part of who I am, has been badly broken. As I gain strength, the earth will heal. As the earth heals, I will grow stronger. I need you, my friends. The earth is meant to be possessed of love and of fertility." She slid the robe from her shoulders, and Michael shivered with desire. His mind screamed for him to look away, but he was helpless to overcome. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold back a moan.

The man who had opened the ceremony took his robe off, and went to her. Everyone in the circle watched. No one moved. All of them, including Michael, were paralyzed with need. He started kissing her, and she pressed her body against him. They lay on the earth, and the leader entered her, in front of all of them, and she welcomed it.

The sky was clear and blue, but thunder roared. The people shivered. Some of them started moaning like they could actually feel what they were watching. They started pairing off, ripping at each other's clothes. Michael's legs quaked with the urge to rush forward to her.

One young man walked right toward the center of the circle. "Take me next, Brigit. I want my seed in you," he said. She looked at him with insatiable dark eyes. He started undressing. Another man shoved him away and yelled, "No! Choose me. I'm the strongest here. I will bring you pleasure."

The worship leader was close to finishing. She cried out at them, "Fight for it! The one who shall have me is the one who can feed me the blood of his enemy."

The second man seemed to have been prepared all along for her to say that. He reached into a pocket and came out with a knife. Michael stood, glued to the spot, while the man cut his competitor's throat. Blood sprayed out over couple on the ground, covering the woman's face and dripping into her mouth and she screamed as she climaxed. The man groaned and came, too.

When they had both finished he shuddered and relaxed on top of her. Instantly the killer pulled him off the woman and entered her himself. She welcomed him as well, crying out to him as he licked the blood of the dying man from her breasts and thrust harder and harder into her. "Who else?" she called to them. "Who else will feed me and join me?"

Raziel stepped back, releasing me from Michael's memories.

Jealousy over his reaction nipped at me. I pushed it down. Despite staggering temptation he'd run away. What more could I ask?

Michael seemed to understand that the angel had helped me see what he couldn't bear to say. He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand--a gesture that so reminded me of Donovan, I wanted to hold him and rock him to sleep. My heart broke for him. I'd had a lifetime to prepare for the strangeness that had been thrust upon us. How many people had had encounters like this in the past months, encounters that left them wrought to their core? People had no frame of reference to deal with what was happening in the world.

He told me what happened next. "That was when I finally ran away. As soon as I took a single step it was like the spell was broken. I wanted to vomit, but I just ran. A few of the others were running away by then, too. I was so scared, Simone. I wanted to do something, but I just felt so damn helpless."

He really did cry like a little boy then, and I held him, and wept with him, and did not tell him that, all around him there was laughter. The others had found their entertainment at last, in the agony of good men like my husband.

~*~

The sound of scrambling across the roof woke me that night. The moment my mind swam into consciousness, I was aware of their voices. These were not the quiet murmurs of other beings simply existing nearby, but the pointedly directed taunts of malicious evil seeking a plaything. Let us in, Prophet! We want to make friends. We want to be your neighbors! Something scratched at the glass of my window and my thoughts raced to my boys. I sent out a silent prayer, even as my feet hit the floor. Help me. Please send help.

Michael stirred and sat up. "What's that sound?" he asked.

"Others. They're unhappy with what I said today and they're looking for a bit of fun. I'm going to get the boys and bring them in here."

"Simone, we are here."

I heard the rich, deep, familiar voice and nearly ran to open the door. Raziel and Freyja stood in the hallway. The young woman I'd seen polishing armor in my vision was with them, as were Sandalphon and Neith. They were all tall and beautiful, powerful, and fierce.

"We'll guard the house. Nothing will come in," Freyja promised.

"If it does, the consequence will be swift and severe," Sandalphon said, obviously for the benefit of the creatures above who could, no doubt hear us as clearly as I could hear them. It was plain this "cunning and ruthless" warrior Raziel had told me about was hoping someone would challenge him. His eyes blazed at the mention of a fight.

The little group dispersed around the house. Michael and I went to get the boys and bring them into our bed. I trusted our guardians, but my heart needed to have my sons in arm's reach.

I lay in bed listening to the prowling steps and mocking taunts of those who sought to destroy me. I took comfort in the quiet calm of the ones who had come to protect. I'd asked for help, and the response had been immediate. Yet my spirit refused to settle into peacefulness. The hours dragged on into an abyss of time. I stared at the clock next to Michael, watching the minutes ticking away in painful intervals. Finally, the tiniest sliver of light appeared around the edges of the curtains and the voices faded. There was truth to the stories that many of the legends couldn't stand sunlight. Most weren't harmed, but those who wished to hide their wicked deeds avoided the brightness of day.

How does she know it's a he? Or a person?