Chapter 1: 1952
The thing about prophecies is that they’re never quite what they seem and they always, always, leave room for interpretation.
Azazel should have remembered that, but then, if he had we wouldn’t have a story would we?
November 1, 1952
Thomas was in a rage, again .
It was ghastly in its consistency.
Nuriel watched as the human ranted and raved, curses and hatred flying off his tongue with ease. There’s a child, a little girl, peeping from a cabinet beneath the sink, her cornflower blue eyes huge and fearful beneath wispy blond hair. She tries to stay hidden, well versed in the ways of this household and thus knows safety lies in invisibility.
The woman is not so fortunate, having walked into a firestorm of loathing, she is still crouched in the corner where she had landed when the first blow was dealt out, her hands fluttering unconsciously over her abdomen, instincts wanting to protect what she does not yet realize is there.
What must be protected, above all else…
“It is time sister,” Jehoel’s voice, a warm breeze filtering through her consciousness…
“Can we not take them all?”
“It would be too dangerous, not only for the humans but for us. No one must know, no one can even guess as to what we do this day,” the reply comes soft but firm.
Nuriel sighs, “You are right, of course, though it…it hurts to see the horror being inflicted in this household.”
“I know, but it must be done.”
Nuriel bows her head,
“Yes, my lord”
Chapter 2: 1953 - Part 1
In which a new power is born.
May 10, 1953
‘Blood, so much blood, everywhere, too much, the babies, Oh God, no, please, not the babies, please!’
‘Shush, all will be well, they will be well’
‘My babies, my little girl, I can’t leave them, please, don’t make me leave them!’
‘It is time Mary Anne, it cannot be helped.’
‘Leave me here! I can’t leave them with Thomas!’
‘Their fate is no longer in your hands, the time to go is now, I am sorry Mary Anne but it is time to say goodbye.’
She had fought to the bitter end for her children, her love and anguish almost enough to make even an angel pause, but it was not to be.
That night Mary Anne Constantine was spirited to heaven, away from the man who’d made her life a living hell and from the daughter who so desperately needed her.
Away from the newly born forms of her premature twin sons, fragile little bodies housing the spirits of two men whose destinies would forever be entwined with forces greater then Mary Anne could ever comprehend.
One would scream his way into the world, an instinctive reaction to the knowledge of what had been done, what he had lost. On the earthly plane of existence for mere minutes, yet his soul and mind already knew that something was terribly, horribly wrong, the first sign, in a long line of them, of the power he would wield in the years to come.
The other child would lay silent and still, a shell, strangled with his own umbilical cord, dead in the womb, thought to be another victim of the selfishness and machinations of a father who only cared for himself, a man who would force the only person who truly loved him into termination after termination for his own convenience.
Death. The perfect camouflage.
Chapter 3: 1953 - Part 2
A gift is given
August 29, 1953
Zachary Winchester couldn’t stop smiling as he held the little bundle in his arms, counting and recounting his beautiful boy’s fingers and toes.
Cradling him close he walked over to where Izzy was sleeping and gently lowered the baby down, tucking him close to his mother and smiling down at the picture they made.
“My miracle. My beautiful, amazing miracle,” Zach whispered quietly as he sat down beside the bed.
Izzy snuffled a little in her sleep, rolling over to cradle the baby closer, and Zach grinned through the tears streaming down his face.
“Thank you God, thank you so much, I don’t know why you blessed us, what we did that would make you think we deserved this but I promise you we will take care of him, we’ll watch over him and make sure he is a man to be proud of,” Zach prayed softly as he closed his eyes and laid his head down on the bed near his wife’s legs.
Jehoel watched the little family silently from his vantage point near the doorway.
“Our Father, thy will be done”