Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kate drove; Damien sat in the back seat with Peter, his arm around the boy’s shoulder, and while the Antichrist could feel Peter’s love and devotion for him, Damien felt nothing for the boy. As she drove, Damien’s mind reached out to her; he had only had sex with Kate yesterday, so the likelihood that she was pregnant was slim.

He had let everyone think that he had been duped by Kate, but he had known that he would need her to carry his offspring in case he did not survive.  Damien might have felt nothing for Peter, but his children…that he would miss. The thought that his progeny would have to make their way in the world alone troubled him more he would have ever guessed. He would not be a physical presence in their lives, but he would be there for them in spirit. He possessed six of the Daggers of Megiddo, which were now safely in the hands of Thomas Chambers. DeCarlo had managed to hang on to only one, and therefore would not be able to extinguish Damien’s soul.

First, he would have a daughter.  He would guide and teach her as best he could, and one day she would run Thorn Industries and grow the empire that Damien had built. A daughter who would be as powerful as her father, capable of making terrible things happen should she need them to protect the secret that she would carry. Damien smiled.  Inside of his daughter would be the embryo of her twin brother, who eventually would be implanted inside his daughter’s adoptive mother. Nine months later, Damien would have a son that nobody would suspect was Damien’s spiritual successor…the Antichrist reborn.

The priest had chosen a far out of the way spot nearly three hours outside the city. Damien removed his arm from around Peter, who then reached out and took his hand and suddenly…

Elation, freedom…Damien felt better than he had since the nazarene had been born...strong, confident and above all, powerful; then, there it was again, corruption, perversion, repression, the nazarene sapping him of his energy.

Eventually, Kate reached the church, slowed down, and then pulled over. Once she got out, she walked ahead, leaving Damien and Peter to catch up to her…

He suddenly felt fine again, he took a deep breath…

And it was back, the horrific feeling that walls were closing in on him. The change in how he felt was so sudden and severe, he collapsed against the car. Nausea gripped him and he broke out in a cold sweat. Peter began coming back, but Damien waved the boy away; the last thing he wanted to do was make nice when the world at present was sincerely fucking with him. 

Once he recovered, he followed Kate into the church, and then down a flight of stairs, Peter tightly clinging to him.  He heard a sound behind him. Without thinking, Damien picked up Peter, and quickly turning, watched as the final dagger found its mark in an unintended target. He let go of the boy and moved towards the priest, his hands around the old man’s neck, squeezing, intending to choke the life out of him.  Instead, Damien continued into the church, his blinding lust for the nazarene driving him onward…

He was fine. A sweet moment of relief from the agony…the familiar consciousness of the nazarene pushing its way back into his mind, forcing him to his knees. 

Something was happening, but Damien needed time to stop and think. The moments of tranquility would allow him time to sort out what was going on, but they were too brief.  In agony, Damien moved forward. He noticed movement on his left and went towards it. Then he could feel IT happening again, but this time, Damien drew on strength from the depths of his soul and when he felt ecstasy and freedom, he held it and made it stay and he screamed as the other…reality tried to push its way back into Damien’s mind, but he held on…then

LOVE

PROTECTION

FATHER  

Damien understood, and realization took hold, and for the first time in weeks, he could breathe without feeling like there was a crushing weight on his chest. 

Shortly after Damien had found out about his parentage, he developed an interest in jackals, not only in the animal itself, but also in the myths surrounding the animal. Not prevalent in the Western world, he had turned to African folklore, and it had not taken long until he had found what he had wanted.  In Khoikhoi myths, the black-backed jackal was often paired with the lion. Stronger and larger than the jackal, the stories depicted the lion being outwitted by its smaller and more cunning counterpart.  Even as a teenager, Damien knew that in Judeo-Christian beliefs, Christ was often associated with a lion. Only this time, it had not been the jackal that had used deceit, it had been the lion. 

There had been an alignment of stars in the early morning of March 24th, but it had been meaningless. Instead, their god had taken possession of his mind, making Damien believe that the nazarene had been reborn. So completely had the charade worked, that even when he had reached out to his Father in the Chapel, Damien had been prevented from hearing what Satan had been trying to tell him. 

Now that the Antichrist was aware that it had all been a lie, the so-called god and his son could no longer control him.

The shadow continued towards him, and he realized it was Kate…and that he had foolishly left the dagger behind after he had killed Peter. She was coming for her revenge. Not that Damien could blame her, he would be outraged too if someone had killed his child, but his empathy was reserved for himself, his Father and, hopefully, his children.

With the nazarene and the so-called god out of Damien’s head, he was at full strength. He was in her mind, making her think that he was still ahead of her…she let out a gasp as he took her from behind, his hands around her neck, using the heaviest pressure he dared until she went limp, and he gently placed her on the ground. First, off came his belt; he bound her legs with that. Next, off came Kate’s blouse, which he used to fasten her hands. Damien left her on the ground, picking up the dagger; he was now in possession of the only things on the planet that could kill him. Damien clutched the lone knife in his hand and made his way back to the priest. 

“I asked you where your god was, but I’m guessing that that you’ve found that out for yourself. You can feel it, can’t you? Emptiness, nothingness, flaccid rage? While my Father, God, Satan, to whom I give boundless gratitude for my salvation, works His will in the world, showing your impotent god and his worthless son to be the liars that they really are. Guess that baby was just a baby. Oh well, better luck next time.” Damien turned the corner and DeCarlo was across Peter, the priest shaking with grief.  He reached down and yanked up the priest by his hair, chunks of it coming away in his hand, but DeCarlo was past caring. He had been betrayed by God…that sense of loss, so many dead, his faith, gone…that misery poured over Damien like sacred water and baptized him with the sweetest agony. He wanted to look DeCarlo in the eyes, however, the priest had closed them. 

“I hope all this grief isn’t for Kate and Peter? In few months from now, well nine to be precise, his mother is going to get to give birth all over again, to my children. You fuck a woman, and you get her pregnant; that’s how procreation works in the real world.” Damien looked down at the knife and back up to the priest and then drove the dagger through DeCarlo’s right eye, twisting it for good measure; he was dead before his body hit the ground. 

Damien wiped the blood off on the priest’s coat and pocketed the knife. He returned to Kate, fished her keys out of her pants pocket, hoisted her up over his right shoulder, and made his way back through the church to her car. He would need to send people back here to clean up. DeCarlo could be buried anywhere, but Peter would have to be brought back. Damien unlocked and opened the trunk and put Kate inside. No one had bothered to close the car doors when they had arrived, so he got into the driver’s seat, started the car, and began the three-hour trek back to the city.    

Thomas Chambers worked at Thorn Industries and headed up Mergers and Acquisitions, but more importantly, he was part of Damien’s inner circle.  He had come to England under the guise of looking in on things in the London office, but in reality, had come to take care of things if DeCarlo had been successful in killing Satan’s son before he could kill the nazarene. It was eight in the morning when Damien arrived where Thomas was staying, which was a house owned by Thorn. He was exhausted when he rang the doorbell. Moments later, Thomas Chambers, in his pajamas, opened the door. 

“Lost?”

“No, almost killed.” Damien explained to Thomas what had happened, finishing with telling him that the birth of the nazarene had been a trick to lure the Antichrist to his death. 

Thomas smiled at Damien and then broke into laughter.  

“So apart from giving me the good news to me in person, why are you here?”

Damien walked to the car and Thomas followed. Damien pulled out the keys from the ignition, unlocked the trunk and opened it.

“Is she pregnant?”

Thomas and Paul were the only ones who knew what the plan had been.  “Not yet, but I wanted to take her to Oscar. Not only that, but we’ve got to get people to go back to the church and clean up. I need Peter brought back, but DeCarlo can be disposed of anywhere.”

“Okay, give me half an hour.”  

When Thomas returned, he did so dressed, and with a brief case and a duffel bag. He drove while Damien sat in the passenger seat, struggling to remain awake.

“Okay, so the plan is pretty much unchanged from our original one. We had people at the ready to take care of any extra bodies, and it won’t be you being taken care of by Taggart, it will be Peter.”

Damien’s personal physician had flown to London with Thomas and had been in contact with enough of their medical people on this side of the pond to put together a plausible story if Damien had been killed. Covering up Peter’s death would be much easier.

“When did you have sex with Kate?”

“About twenty-four hours ago, so that gives us a few days of waiting.”

“And you’ll know when conception happens?”

“I’m hoping that I’ll be able to feel it, the child inside of her. If not, my Father will have to send me a message that Kate is with child.”

Thorn Industries kept houses and apartments available for visiting out-of-town business executives in cities where the company had branch offices.  London was no exception, which had two such properties, one located in the city, where Thomas was staying and the other in the country to where Kate would be brought. Years ago, Paul had begun referring to the city dwellings as Felix and the more rustic dwellings as Oscar and the epithets had stuck. In this case, Oscar was a three-story house surrounded by oaks and rose bushes and covered with ivy, lovely by any standards, but in this case, its most desirable feature was that it was isolated with its nearest neighbors over a mile away.

Thomas pulled up to the house, removed a set of keys from his briefcase, got out first, and unlocked and opened the door. Thomas returned and helped Damien with Kate and the two of them brought her to the couch.  All the dwellings were kept in a move-in ready state, so there was food in the fridge and the beds were made and ready to be slept in.

“Try to get some sleep. I’ll be leaving at some point to meet up with the two guys getting rid of DeCarlo, but since nobody but the two of us knows that we’re here, you’re safe.”

Damien didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed the knife out of his coat pocket and went upstairs, all the way up to the third floor so he could have the most privacy possible as there was only one bedroom there.  Once inside, he shut and locked the door and closed the curtains. On the wall next to the door was a painting of, oddly enough, a fox hunt, behind which was a safe. He put the dagger inside, closed the handle, and spun the dial; he wouldn’t need the combination to get back in.  

Damien peeled off his clothes and slipped under the cool covers. He was hungry and could do with a shower, but neither one of those things were calling to him the way his exhaustion was. He let himself relax; this would be the first decent sleep that he would have since the night of March 23^rd.  He sent out love and gratitude to his Father, without whose intervention Damien would not be here. He had survived, and now Satan was the ultimate decider as to whether Kate became pregnant and as Damien succumbed to sleep, he hoped that his Father’s answer would be yes.

Chapter Text

Damien awoke to the sound of voices from downstairs. He reached over to the bedside table, turned on the lamp and checked his watch; it was nearly five in the evening. He put on what he had been wearing yesterday, but when he opened the bedroom door, there, on the chair just outside the room was a fresh change of clothes and a suitcase. He picked up the clothes and the case, stepped back into the room, took a long, hot shower, and dressed in fresh clothing and headed downstairs. However, when he got to the second-floor landing, he realized that Kate had been moved to one of the bedrooms and went to see what was going on. Inside the room were three nurses and Dr. Taggart, who, upon seeing Damien, came over to him.

“She is sedated. When did you have sex?”

“Two days ago, more or less.”

“And was she ovulating?” 

“I would have been wasting my time if she hadn’t been.”

Kate was gagged and bound, but not with what Damien had first used to secure her. She moaned and tried to move away from him. He closed his eyes and reached out, unsure as to what he would find, if he found anything, but…nothing. He would come back every few hours and check to see whether she was pregnant. For now, he left the room and went downstairs to eat, where he was greeted by two guests, one of whom was unexpected. 

The expected person was Paul Buher, who looked up as Damien entered the dining room and sat at the table. Thomas had contacted Paul once it began to look like events here were reaching their conclusion and Paul had probably been enroute when he had been contacted and told that situation had been resolved in their favor.

The unexpected person in the room was Anna Buher, Paul’s niece, whom Paul had seemingly liberated from school in order for her to be involved in what was happening here. While Anna was only seventeen, she had inherited her uncle’s business acumen and his good sense.

Damien had woken up and come down in time for dinner. Someone had gone into the city and had come back with Indian take-away and beer, with which he washed down his first mouthful of food.  The meal was excellent, for take-away, but it somehow reminded Damien of Chan’s, one of the few remnants of his former life with Richard and Ann that he held up as tradition. He would back in Chicago, under one circumstance or another, and his first meal would be at Chan’s. He couldn’t help but think that if he had children, he would get to introduce them to the best Chinese food in the Western hemisphere.

“So, DeCarlo has been taken care of and Peter was with our medical people at St. Margaret’s and is now at a funeral home. Apparently, Peter died from a brain injury.  He’ll be cremated, and the funeral with be the day after tomorrow. Next, I’m assuming that once this pregnancy matter is resolved, we’re headed back home to the Windy City?”

Damien nodded at Thomas and read the piece of paper that Paul had handed him. It was a hastily written document stating that for various reasons, including the attack on Damien’s life, Jacob Schroeder’s involvement in the attack against the High Aswan Dam, and Schroeder’s so-called connection to Damien, Thorn Industries would be better served with its commander-in-chief back at the helm and he would be immediately resigning as Ambassador to Great Britain. It was all fine to Damien, who then gave Thomas the go-ahead to have the resignation drawn up and made official; he would sign it when he was at the Embassy in London.

Paul looked at Damien.  “You’re still going to have to call the President and talk to him. What about the Presidency of the United Nations Youth Council?”

“It depends on whether she’s pregnant. I’m also going to have to call Kate’s boss and tell him that she’s taking a leave of absence.” Damien continued to eat.

“We’ve got the contact information here. You can call now, try the office first, he might still be there.” Thomas handed Damien another piece of paper that had on it the name and phone number for Kate’s boss, both at his office and at home.

“I’m heading back to Chicago tonight. There’s the meeting the day after tomorrow for…”

“…the bid for the contract to repair the Aswan Dam. Let me know how it goes.”

Damien looked at Paul, who smiled. Leave it to Damien, with everything that had been going on, to know what was happening on the home front.

“Am I still staying here, Uncle Paul?”

“Yes, you will come back with everyone once this is over and done. However, I want to speak with you before I leave.”

“Yes, sir.” Anna went back to reading the notes that her uncle had given her about the meeting that was scheduled for the day after tomorrow.

Once everyone was done eating, Anna went off to let the others speak privately.

“In case it wasn’t mentioned earlier, I’m glad you’re okay.” Thomas looked at Damien and Paul concurred with a nod of his head.

“So, what exactly happened?” Paul raised his eyebrow at Damien.

No doubt, Thomas had told Paul what Damien had told him, but Paul wanted to hear it from the jackal's mouth, so to speak.  Damien took a drink of his beer. “It was all a lie, beginning with the prophecy in the ‘Book of Hebron,’ which served to prime the pump as it were. They assumed, correctly so, that I would educate myself on them, on me and that I would eventually find the prophecy, conveniently telling me the location of the birth of the nazarene. Not only that, but any over-zealous do-gooders like DeCarlo would have the motive, the opportunity and location to try to kill me. There was an alignment of stars, but it was meaningless...full of sound and fury signifying jack shit, but then they invaded my head making me believe that the nazarene had been reborn. I don’t know what DeCarlo told the parents or parent of that child, if he said anything, who now may be thinking that their son is destined for great things.” The Cheshire cat smile was back again. “It was all bull, all to get me to lay down my life, but my Father intervened and I’m here and the nazarene isn’t…a shame, really.” Damien let that smile sit there as he took another drink of beer.

“On a different yet not unrelated topic, what do we do about her?” Paul jerked his head toward the stairs.

“We wait for the next few days to see whether she gets pregnant. If not…”

“Can’t you just bring her back to Chicago and try there?”

“It’s not that easy, Thomas. Remember, these children were supposed to be born to replace me, but I’m not going anywhere just yet. Not that having children, or a child, wouldn’t be advantageous, but if she’s not meant to get pregnant, then it’s not going to happen.”

The three of them sat and worked out a plan to call Kate’s boss. The call would be made from Kate’s room so that she could talk to Michael, her immediate supervisor at the BBC. Kate would be taking a leave of absence from work. If Kate were pregnant, it would be long leave of absence as she would be brought back to Chicago and be taken care of until she had Damien’s children and then she would be eliminated. If Kate didn’t get pregnant, Peter’s death would push her over the edge, and she would kill herself. Either way, it was simply a matter of time until Kate Reynolds was dead.

Upstairs, the nurses left the room in order to give Damien and Thomas the privacy that they needed to make the call. Damien called the office number first and for whatever reason, he was there this late at night.

“Michael Jones here.” The clipped, crisp British accent was unlike the reporters back at home with whom Damien was used to dealing.

“Mr. Jones, this is Damien Thorn.”

“Mr. Ambassador, to what do I owe this unexpected surprise?”

Damien put on his very best concerned voice and continued talking to the man. “Well, it’s not very good news. I’m calling for Kate, actually; Peter...Peter passed away.”

“Oh God, is she okay?”

Damien felt like telling him that that was one of the stupidest questions that could ever be asked of someone who was experiencing a personal tragedy, but he thought better of it. “I’m afraid not. She’s with me and we’re…well, we’re somewhere private. The press hasn’t been notified…”

“Of course not, that’s best. When’s the funeral?”

“That detail is being worked out. I can get back to you with the exact time and place if you like. While I’m sure that Kate had many friends at work, she can’t take the stress of a crowd. She’s under the care of my personal physician, who has her on some mild sedatives for now. I called not only to tell you about Peter, but to say that Kate will be taking some time off from work.”

“Of course, completely understandable. It will just be myself and one other person at the service. And yes, please, get back to me with the information and we’ll be there. I want to support Kate anyway that I can.”

“Kate’s here with me, would you like to speak with her?”

“If she’s up for it.”

"She’s nodding for me to hand her the phone; here she is." Damien handed her the phone, dropped the concerned boyfriend façade, and placed all of his energy into controlling Kate.

“Katie, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank-you.”

Damien smiled. Kate’s voice was weak and tired, but that was good; she sounded as if she’d been through the proverbial ringer.

“You take off from work whatever time you need. And if there’s anything that you want, you just ask…day or night.”

“Damien is taking care of everything; we’re somewhere private.”

“Good, nobody is going to hear anything from us until you give us the say so to say anything about Peter, okay? I’m glad Damien is taking care of you. You landed a good one there, Katie.”

“Thank-you, I’m going to let you go now. I’m tired and I want to rest. I’ll put Damien back on the phone. Good-bye, Michael.”

Damien took the phone from Kate and Thomas was there with her gag and put it back in place. “Hello?” Damien’s voice was gentle again.

“Take care of her, please…and please get back to me with the information about the funeral.”

“Of course, I’m going to take her up to bed…not that things will be any better tomorrow, but…”

“Understood, what else can you do?”

Damien hung up at his end and he and Thomas looked at each other. “Make sure you get back to him with the funeral details.”

Downstairs, Thomas, and Damien found Anna and Paul talking.

“Mind coming with us so you can drive Anna back here?”

“Sure, but before I forget.” Thomas went outside and came back with a box and handed it to Damien. He went out to the car with Anna to wait for Paul, who had taken their boss into the living room.

There weren’t many men who could make Paul Buher look and feel insignificant; of course, Damien Thorn was no man. “Are you okay?”

Damien smiled. “I’m better than okay. I’m alive, my Father loves me and has proven His power in the face of their ineffectual god and his son, and I could very well be a new dad shortly.”

“You want this child?”

“Is there a reason that I shouldn’t?”

“No, I’m just surprised. You’ve never shown an interest in wanting to be a family man.”

“I don’t want to be a family man; I want to be a father. I don’t want to marry, but it doesn’t mean that now that the situation has presented itself, I can’t look forward to having a child, or children.”

Paul put a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “I hope you get what you want. I’ll call you and let you know how the meeting went and you call me with any news.” Damien nodded in agreement and watched as the three of them left.

Damien went upstairs, checked in on Kate, who was still not pregnant, then went into his room and closed the door. He retrieved the first dagger from the safe, and brought it, and the box, over to the bed. Damien made sure that the knife he had taken from DeCarlo was apart from the others as he removed all the daggers from the box, holding one of them in his hand.

Crafted nearly one thousand years ago, the knives had been created to be the destruction of the individual now holding them. The Daggers of Megiddo, twelve inches long, constructed of early steel and deadly, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration that the blade was triangular in shape, creating a wound that was extra nasty and difficult to close when the knife was removed from its victim. He turned it over in his hands and smiled; he now owned the only things on Earth that could kill him.

The first one.  The one dropped by the priest in the BBC studio, the one that had signaled to Damien that he was being pursued by, as it would turn out, some very inept hunters. That priest had ended up being burned and melted to death in an attempt to kill the Antichrist. Damien put the first, and each subsequent dagger back in the box after he held them.

Two, three, four. Those he had taken from three priests whom Damien had followed to an abandoned church, miles outside of London. Damien had tricked two of the three men into believing that they had murdered the Antichrist when they had, in fact, stabbed and killed one of their own. The two remaining priests had considerately dropped their knives before Damien forced them into a sealed off staircase, re-covered the stairwell with the grate and had left them there to die. Damien retrieved the third dagger from the dead priest and had driven back to London.

Five and six had been taken off of two priests at the fox hunt, the symbolism of which had not been lost on Damien. With the first priest, he had invaded the horse’s mind, making it think that it was being attacked by jackals. Spooked, the horse had thrown its rider over the side of the bridge to his death seventy feet below. Later, Damien had had to ride down the embankment and retrieve the dagger, which he had done with pleasure. With the second priest, Damien had acted as pack leader to a group of hounds and ordered the dogs to rip the priest to shreds. If that hadn’t been enough, Damien had used the blood from that kill to engage in a particularly interesting tradition; he had bloodied Peter, initiating the boy into more than just the sport of foxhunting.

Damien held the seventh and last dagger in his hand. Taken from DeCarlo, the architect of the quest to kill the Antichrist. He gripped the dagger and let the memory of the absolute despondency which had overwhelmed DeCarlo fill him and then, the feeling of ramming the dagger through the priest’s eye. Damien was alive and they were dead; he had triumphed while they had been vanquished and that sense of absolute victory of his foes filled him with a joy that he had not known in some time.

His mind reached out to one of the nurses in the next room. This was neither time nor the place for some of his more…interesting sexual escapades. He had firsthand experience of how the human body functioned, from the inside out, as it were. No torture. Not so much as roughing her up. She was there to take care of Kate, and therefore, his children, and that superseded any wants or needs that Damien would have liked nothing more than to fulfill.

He was naked when she came into the room, as was she. She was silent, brushing against him as she lay on the bed, her legs open, ready to take him.

Her mouth, however, was to remain closed. He had been here before. The women who had not been Kate, who had knowingly given themselves to the Devil’s son. The protestations of love and devotion…fanatical cries of ecstasy. He smiled as he entered her, hard as the daggers which were now back in their box. It was funny how all those screams of devotion turned into screams of agony and terror when Damien decided to play the game his way. But he didn’t want so much as a peep from her.  Nothing but the sound of her laboured breathing as she meet his movements with hers…

...666...

He was downstairs enjoying a glass of wine when Anna and Thomas came back to the house with his suitcases in tow.

“All of my stuff is out of Felix, so they can get a cleaning crew to come down and make it ready for the next occupant. That looks like a good idea.” Thomas poured himself a glass of wine and he and Damien sat and talked while Anna went to bed and left the men folk to talk.

At one thirty in the morning, Thomas called it a night, and Damien went upstairs, and, after checking in on Kate for the final time, retired to his room.  He stripped naked, got into bed, and had brought a book with him, uncertain as to whether he would be able to fall asleep. Two pages in, he put the book on the bedside table, reached over and shut of the lamp, and, surprisingly, was asleep in minutes.

Chapter Text

Damien slept until nine the next morning and woke up feeling better than he had in weeks.  He showered, dressed, made his first trek into Kate’s room to find her still not pregnant and then went downstairs and found the first floor deserted.  Damien was making his breakfast when Anna came back from a jog, and then went upstairs to shower. He was eating when Thomas returned, and he had not returned alone.   

“For starters, I thought that you could use a friend.” 

Damien’s dog trotted into the room, came over to his Master, who, after some scratches behind the ear, turned around and lay down at his feet. 

“Next, I’ve brought appropriate clothing for funeral attending.  The service will be tomorrow at ten in the morning in one of the chapels at the cemetery and yes, I already called Kate’s boss and told him.  I’ve also brought you reading material.” Thomas dropped a stack of reports on the table.  “These have all been signed, and you can’t sign anything anyway considering that you’re not officially back.” On top of the stack of files was a thick book titled The Big Book of Baby Names.  Damien looked up.  “It’s a lot harder than you think.” Thomas winked at him.

When Anna came downstairs from her shower, she was dressed in business attire. 

“I’m taking us over to the London office.  Why don’t you come with? You’ve been cooped up since you got here.” Thomas held out Anna’s coat for her.  

“I’ll get out of the house tomorrow for the service.  What about Kate’s passport?”  

“Everything is good.  We’ll be gone for most of the day, and I’ll bring back Chinese, so I don’t have to cook.  The one thing this place needs is a BBQ.”

“Your BBQ is the best, Mr. Chambers.”   

Thomas shook his head.  “Work for the largest multinational corporation on the face of the planet, finagle some of the best mergers in the history of corporate America…and the Black guy gets a thumbs up for his chicken.”

Anna’s face had turned the color of chalk, but Thomas laughed.  “Anna, I’m kidding.  I see she also inherited her uncle’s sense of humor, or lack thereof.”

Damien laughed, finished eating and saw Thomas and Anna to the door. 

“At least go sit in the backyard or something, okay?” Damien agreed and watched them leave, and except for the three nurses and Kate, he was alone in the house.

Damien went outside, but the weather was too cold for his liking so he came back in and turned on the television, but there was nothing on, then decided now would be as good a time as any to call the President and explain what was going on, which Damien did, asking him to hold off on any press release until tomorrow after Peter’s funeral.  For now, the Deputy Ambassador would be handling all the duties that would have normally fallen to Damien.  They made small talk about the President’s wife and kids, and Damien ended the conversation by promising to visit once he got back to the States.  After the call, he grabbed the stack of files, which included the baby name book, and once he checked on Kate, went into his room intending to spend the day reading reports.  It was noon, and Damien had gotten through the majority of the files, when he gave into temptation and picked up the book.

When first faced with the prospect of having children, Damien had been easily able to think of a name for a son, it had been Robert’s alternative name if he had not gone with Damien, but a girl...while he had spent more time thinking about having a daughter, since she would have been the first one born, he had not given much thought to picking out a name for her. He went in to check Kate, and when he returned, he picked up the book, turning to the middle where the names for girls began and started with the A’s…

At three in the afternoon, Damien decided to go downstairs and have a light lunch, he was now in the B’s not having found a name in the A’s that he liked, and after he ate, he went back upstairs and made his perfunctory mental examination of Kate.  He reached out with his mind and while he wanted to find something, he expected this time to be like all the others and almost hastily moved on, but then Damien let out a nearly inaudible gasp. 

“Go downstairs and wait for Thomas.” 

Knowing that he was not speaking to Kate, the three nurses left him alone. 

Damien looked behind him; the door was shut.  He got down on one knee, and to anyone who came in it would have looked like he was proposing to Kate, and since he couldn’t think of a better place, put his hand just below her navel.  He was hesitant to try again, wondering if he had imagined what he had felt moments earlier, but he took a breath and reached out; it was still there. 

Whatever it was felt separate from Kate…something foreign inside of her…like it didn’t belong.  Damien was sure that it felt like him, but he didn’t want to project onto whatever it was that he could feel.  He thought of it like a tiny blip on a radar screen sending out a signal, but he had no idea whether that tiny blip was aware that someone was listening to it.  That signal hadn’t been there before and felt like something alien inside of Kate…and…female.  At first, Damien had thought that the gender had been Kate, but it was definitely coming from that blip.  He smiled and let himself believe; nine months from now, Damien Thorn was going to be a father.  He closed his eyes.  “Oh Satan, from whom all true blessings flow, thank you for my child.” 

Damien knew that the tiny life could not hear him, but like most parents, he left logic at the door and spoke.  “Hello, daughter; I’m your father.  I’m not going to tell you my name yet because you don’t have one, but I promise you that the next time we talk, you will.  I love you; your father loves you more than he can ever tell you with words.  I’m going to go now, but I’ll be back and when I do, you’ll have a name.”

He left Kate, went back to his room, picked up the book and turned to the names beginning with D.  Since he had been intent on giving his son the alternative to Damien, then his daughter would get a name that began with the same initial as her father.  He didn’t find anything in the Da’s and moved on and then…there it was.  He liked the sound of it: strong, powerful, graceful, and feminine, and once he read the meaning of the name, he knew that that it would belong to his daughter. 

Damien had decided, once he had come upstairs from lunch, to switch tact and try reading something else, but that wasn’t going to happen now, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on much of anything, so he brought half a dozen reports with him and returned to Kate’s room.  The dog followed his Master, but once they entered the room, the dog stopped, looked up at him, and then went over to Kate and nudged her stomach with his head.  He then sat and thumped his tiny tail on the floor.  Damien placed the files on the table that faced the garden out back and then pulled up a chair beside Kate and sat.  He smiled, reached over, giving the dog a scratch behind his ear.

“So, you’re my pregnancy test, are you? Do you approve of the newest addition to my family?” The dog gave a quiet bark, as if not to disturb the new being inside of Kate and then curled up on the floor and closed his eyes. 

Once again, he reached out to that little blip inside of Kate.  “I told you that when I came back, you’d have a name.  Hello, Delia, I’m your father, Damien.  We won’t be properly introduced to each other for nearly a year, but I can feel you and I will be here for you…not just now, but always.”  He moved the chair closer to the window and began to read, but every now and then, he reached out to his daughter. 

He was in Kate’s room for two hours before Thomas returned to Oscar and was told that something was up.  Thomas opened the door and one look at Damien told him all he needed to know.  “I’ll understand if you want to talk to Paul first.” 

Damien grinned.  “She’s pregnant.” 

“Yes, I know.  Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, daddy.” Thomas slapped Damien on the back.  “However, if the look on your face hadn’t given it away, he might have.”  A black dog, slightly smaller and younger than Damien’s dog, entered the room.  The new dog came over to Kate, sat beside her and looked up at Damien, whose puzzled expression was enough to prompt Thomas’ question.  “This is new?”

Damien, who had gotten up at this point, shook his head.  “I guess so, it looks like I have a new dog, or my child does.  Thanks for the felicitations.”  They shook hands.  “I can feel her, but I don’t know if she can feel me.”

“She?”

“Nine months from now, I’m going to have a daughter.”

“A girl...what about the next Antichrist?” 

Damien shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe she’s it; maybe she’s supposed to carry the next Antichrist, eventually…”

“Did you pick a name?” 

“Delia, it means visible.  I can’t think of a more apt name to give my daughter; both my life and hers proof of Satan’s power in the world.” 

“A man with a child...now the women really won’t be able to keep their hands off you. Fatherhood suits you…champagne! There’s champagne in the fridge. Come on, you can eat and celebrate at the same time.” Damien and Thomas went downstairs and brought the dogs with them, while the three nurses took their food, along with food for Kate, upstairs.  “Anna, meet our new father.”  

She came over and held out her hand; Damien took it.  “Congratulations! Girl or boy?”

“Girl. I picked the name Delia.”

“Oh, that’s too cute, Damien and Delia.” 

Thomas returned from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne and after pouring three glasses and handing the first one to Damien, held up his glass.  “Speaking from experience, fatherhood will be more joy, pain, heartache, mess and fun then you ever thought possible…congratulations!”  Everyone took a sip from their glass.  “And to God, without whom Damien would not be here to enjoy this moment.” Everyone drank again.  Thomas and Anna went into the kitchen and came out with the Chinese food.  Thomas had also brought food for the dog, which had now turned into dogs, both of whom were eventually fed and let outside.  They very quickly harkened to nature’s call and came back, seemingly finding the frosty spring weather as distasteful as their master did.    

Food was passed around and they ate and talked and spent the next hour and a half teasing Damien about having a girl, which he took in stride.  They were enjoying more champagne, though Thomas made sure that Anna did not have more than two glasses, when she put the glass up to her mouth and then froze.  

“You were supposed to have a boy and a girl?” 

“Yes.”  Damien took a sip from his glass. 

“Twins?” 

“Yes.” 

“I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but you realize that male/female twins are fraternal, that means two eggs and two sperm.  The likelihood of the fertilization of both eggs happening at the same time would be next to impossible.”  He simply looked at her.  “I’m not saying that she is pregnant with twins, but if the plan was to have one boy and one girl, I wouldn’t discount the possibility.  Damien, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.” 

“Come on.”

Damien followed Thomas upstairs. Kate had eaten, and two of the nurses were coming back down with all the empty plates and cutlery.  He sent the other nurse out of the room and then reached out his mind to that little beacon and she was still there, but now, Damien could feel a second presence, it was male; it was his son. 

Damien looked at Thomas, who smiled and left him alone with the newest addition to his growing family.   

“Hello, Alexander, I’m your father, Damien, and that other little presence you may feel is your sister, Delia; Delia that’s your brother, Alexander.  You two get to keep each other company for the next nine months.  Alexander, I’m going to tell you what I told your sister; I will be here for you, not just for now, but for always and I love both of you more than I can tell you.” Damien stood there, feeling those tiny lives that would live and breathe in the outside world nine months from now.  Eventually, he opened the door and came out into the hall. 

“Yeah, we’re going to have to sedate you too tomorrow.  Congratulations again, but I think you could do with some air.” They came back downstairs and when they passed Anna, Thomas smiled at her.  He left Damien outside and went back in and returned with a tumbler half filled with amber liquid.  “They say don’t mix the grain and the grape, but I don’t think that counts for you.  What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”  

“Damien, you’ve had a stupid grin on your face since you found out about your daughter, now you have a son…we could float you in the Macy’s Parade.  If this going to work, you’re going to have to be not so happy.”  Thomas smiled at him. 

“I will, but it’s not tomorrow right now.” 

Thomas went back in and left Damien outside for as long as he was willing to put up with the cold, which wasn’t very long.  Damien returned to the dining room and found Thomas sitting at the table, drinking coffee.  Anna came out from the kitchen, having put away all the leftovers.   

“Congratulations, again.  What did you name this one?” 

“Alexander.  When Robert was trying to name me, it was apparently a toss-up between that and Damien, so I thought I’d give my son the alternative.” 

“Alexander and Delia…nice…good choices, so what’s the plan now?” Thomas looked at him.

“We’ll go to the service tomorrow and then you’ll bring Kate back here.  I’ll go to the Ambassador’s residence and decide what stays and what comes with me.  We’ll leave day after tomorrow.” 

“What about the Presidency of the United Nations Youth Council?” 

Damien smiled.  “I’ll have enough to do with my own children for now.  I’ll call the President tomorrow and finalize everything and call Paul and let him know.” 

Thomas nodded, “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” 

All three of them went into the living room, turned on the television, found an old movie and relaxed until ten thirty, when everyone decided to turn in, but while Damien was tired, he found he wasn’t quite ready for bed.  He went into Kate’s room, sent the nurses away, shut off the lights and sat on a chair beside Kate, who was in bed, sleeping.  His children’s dog was curled up at the foot of the bed. 

Damien sat in the dark.  He had endured the possession of their god and his son; he had survived the onslaught by DeCarlo and his band of merry men and, as his reward, had received the only things on the planet that could kill him.  Now, he would be father to not one, but two children: life was good.  He would have to get through the service tomorrow, but that was tomorrow, for now Damien reached out to those two small beings inside of Kate and let everything else go.

Chapter Text

Eight o’clock in the morning found Damien in Kate’s room where she, like Damien, was dressed for the Peter’s service. As was quickly becoming custom, the new father spent time with his children, sending his love to them. He had considered cutting off contact with Delia and Alexander this morning, it would make looking sad easier, but sensing what he could from Kate, he decided against it; he felt like it would be abandoning his children to her hatred of them. Damien had also dismissed the nurses and then did something that he had not done since the incident at Fountains Abbey: he looked Kate Reynolds in the eyes.

Kate was sedated, as she had been since Taggart had arrived at Oscar, but she was aware enough to know that she was going to her son’s funeral, that she was pregnant with twins and whose babies she was carrying. As Damien stood there, he could feel the vitriol that Kate felt for him, though her emotions swung between abject grief over Peter and utter contempt for him and the children she was carrying, and if Kate could have had her way, she would have dropped Damien Thorn dead where he stood. He smiled.  Luckily for him, she wasn’t capable of doing that.

That she hated Damien, he couldn’t care less; but that she hated the children that were inside of her…he would have liked to institute a more permanent solution to Kate’s agitation, but his long-term plan included her Kate being able to keep in contact with the few people over here that she knew, so something like a frontal lobotomy to keep her calm wasn’t possible. He was going to have to see if he could use his special talents to get her to change her mind about being pregnant, or at least not care about being pregnant. 

He had dismissed the nurses because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say something to Kate, or if he wanted to hear anything that she had to say to him, but as he stood there staring down at her, feeling her hatred, he realized that Kate would have little else to say to him that he wasn’t already feeling from her. She knew that he had never really loved her but had used her to carry his children and had used Peter to help him locate the nazarene. As to whether she truly believed what DeCarlo had told her about him, that Damien was the Antichrist, he didn’t care about that either. 

And Damien knew that he had nothing to say to her; what would he say? He hadn’t done anything particularly gloat worthy. In the beginning, Kate had been only too happy to let Damien bed her, he had felt her attraction to him the evening when they had first met, so having sex with her hadn’t been anything for which he should be particularly proud. There was Peter, but making him one of his and Satan’s, disciples…Damien smiled. That had been about gloating to their god more than it had ever been about Kate. Most importantly, he wasn’t sorry for anything that he had done, for using her, for killing Peter and eventually having to kill her, so why lie by apologizing for any of it?  They regarded each other, each understanding what the other was thinking and feeling and then Damien turned his back on her and left. 

Downstairs, Damien found Thomas preparing breakfast and dressed for the funeral; Anna would stay behind. Thomas served everyone and two of the nurses came down to get food for themselves and Kate, but Damien doubted that she would eat anything. 

He escorted Kate downstairs, putting himself inside her mind, and once she was calmer, they went to their respective cars. Thomas would be coming back her with her while Damien went into the city. In the car, he found that putting away his fatherly contentment was easier than he assumed; he simply dwelled on the idea that he had come very close to requiring his own pine box and right now his children would have existed without him, which now that he had felt them and had thought about what their existences would be like, could not imagine their tiny lives in the hands of human beings. Choosing to block them out would have been a mistake; being able to feel them simply added fuel to his ability to look as upset as he was starting to feel. 

Once at the cemetery, Damien spotted two men, one of whom had to be Michael Jones, the other, Kate’s unnamed co-worker whom Michael had said would be accompanying him. Damien had to stop himself from smiling…two men…this was perfect because while they undoubtedly cared for her, they would also be uncomfortable with her raw emotions concerning the loss of her son and would not want to stay longer than necessary.   

The service was short, after all only five people were present. He kept his arm around Kate, making sure that Michael and Benedict saw him comfort her and at one point, he had her sob heavily and her bury her head into his shoulder, and after the service, he brought Kate over to talk to the two men, whom Damien had correctly predicted felt awkward with her. Everyone promised to keep in touch and to let them know if she needed anything. Damien promised, once he arrived back in Chicago, to phone Michael and give an exclusive about his resignation as Ambassador and both men thanked Damien for being there and helping Kate through such a traumatic time and as they left, he knew that unless they were willing to fly to Chicago; it would be the last time either man saw Kate Reynolds alive.

Now that he was done there, he could move on the next order of business, which was deciding what in the Ambassador’s house would stay or go, and as the car pulled into the driveway, he smiled. The house was gorgeous, crowning the equally stunning property upon which it sat, and as he admired the view, he realized that he’d miss all of it, especially the park and garden, the largest private garden in central London second only to the one at Buckingham Palace.

Inside, there was scurrying going on, mostly on the part of people attempting to get things ready for Damien’s replacement. However, three people there were from the Thorn Industries London office and were waiting for Damien and once he arrived, he went through the house, followed by the two women and one man who, with pens, paper, and clipboards in hand, fervently took note of everything that Damien wanted to take with him, which wasn’t going to amount to very much, not surprising since he hadn’t been there long enough to have accrued many new possessions. But all the same they followed him, taking note of whatever Damien said and making sure that if he said that it was his, and he wanted it, the object would find its way across the pond.

In the bedroom, it was mostly clothing that would come back with him. A slight smile passed over his mouth as he looked at the bed...okay, maybe having Kate had been a bit gloat worthy, so he pointed to the bed and its frame as items to be brought back to Chicago.

Damien went up the top floor unescorted. He still had the keys to the house, he would hand those over at the Embassy, but as he came around the corner, he found the door to the one-time Chapel already open. Thomas had put some of their people to work painting the room and Damien knew that it had been done before he had made it to the top because the stink of the paint had greeted him halfway up the stairs, and the door had been left open to let the room air out. He walked in and examined one of the walls; the now beige surface bore no trace of the black paint that had once covered the inside of the room. 

He also noticed that the room was emptier than the last time he had been up here: Thomas and Anna had taken away the effigy of the nazarene and had had it destroyed. Damien closed his eyes; he could still remember the anger and rage. It had rolled off of him in thick waves...waves that had nearly drowned him in a sea of emotion. He still wanted to destroy the nazarene and the so-called god, but he was nowhere near as angry as he had been, and he would never let them have that much power again.  

The room was also devoid of Satan. He could feel his Father inside, but He was no longer a part of this space; however, his Father would be waiting for both him and his children in the Chapel in Chicago. Damien opened his eyes, took a last look around the room and left. 

…666…

Damien stopped at the Embassy where he handed over keys and signed papers officially ending his reign as the shortest serving American Ambassador to Great Britain. He returned to Oscar where he was welcomed back by Thomas, who was in the kitchen working on dinner. 

“So, how did it go?” Thomas looked at him as he picked up a carrot from the counter and bit into it...he was famished. Thomas quickly put together a sandwich for him, which he enthusiastically began to devour. 

“Everything I want will make its way back to Chicago and I’m officially no longer the Ambassador to Great Britain.”

“Well, you’re still the Antichrist so try not to take it as too much of a blow.” 

Damien laughed. “True, there’s not many who can lose a gig like that and still end up with the better job.” Thomas had gotten a beer for himself and both of them held up their bottles and then drank. “How did things go with Kate?”

“Fine, I gave her the shot and she was quiet all the way home.”

Damien left Thomas in the kitchen and went to check on Kate, who was sleeping and as far as he could feel, his children were fine. He then went into his room and changed into some more casual clothing…

The rest of the day was spent not doing much of anything, which was nice change of pace. At one point, Anna challenged him to a game of chess and as the game progressed, he could see the resemblance to her uncle, the same steely-eyed determination and resolve that he had come to know from Paul for all these years and Anna had very nearly beaten him.

Thomas’ cooking skills were in top form as the chicken and roasted potatoes were phenomenal. After dinner, Anna left Thomas and Damien alone to talk in private.

“So, what happens with these children?”

Damien took a drink of wine. “Pretty much the same as if I would have died, except.” He smiled, “There will be three of us. The plan had been, of course, for Delia to run Thorn Industries and have Alexander work somewhere else in the company, and eventually take a run at politics…all of which will still happen.”

“What about you?”

“I’m still the Antichrist, until Satan decides that I can go home.”

“That can happen?”

Damien nodded. “If Alexander is here to eventually take my place, then yes, but that won’t be happening for quite some time.”

Thomas smiled and lifted his glass to Damien. “Just remember when you all take over the world, benevolent dictators.” Thomas took a drink of wine and Damien laughed.

At ten-thirty, Thomas called it a night and left Damien downstairs. The hardest part was over. Now he had to worry about being a father, a subject which Damien predicted would consume much of his time before Kate gave birth nine months from now. There was little he could do about it at the present, he was just glad the worst of it was over and he would soon be in Chicago, and he would have to be patient as the next nine months played themselves out.

Chapter Text

Once they arrived back in Chicago, the first stop was Oscar, where Kate would spend the rest of her life until it was time for her to give birth.  However, before she could begin her seclusion, Damien took her on carefully orchestrated outings around town so that his children wouldn’t appear to come from out of nowhere.  Then once her pregnancy was publicized, Kate was cloistered away, citing emotional reasons with the pregnancy coming so close on the heels of Peter’s death; this kept Thomas’ wife Caroline away from her, too. 

There were also carefully coordinated phone calls between Kate and her boss and her colleague.  She had been a career woman and had lost contact with most of her female friends who had gone on to have more traditional lives.  She also had no other close relatives or friends; the only sibling she had, a sister, had died when Kate was in her late teens.  Peter had been Kate’s only real relative, making life easier for Damien, who now only had to manage phone calls between Kate and two men, neither of whom was interested in long hours of conversation about being pregnant. 

The next nine months for the expectant father were spent preparing for his children.  Damien wanted the children close to him, so he had the two bedrooms across from his made over and after consulting with one of the architects at work, had a door put in between the two rooms so that the siblings could go quickly from one room to the other.  Later, when they were older, he intended to move them up to the third floor, giving them the rooms that were behind the Chapel so they could have privacy for themselves. 

It was into Kate’s fourth month of pregnancy when one night after work, Damien stopped by Oscar to have Kate sign papers giving him power of attorney, allowing him to sell her house.  As usual, he put his hand on her belly and reached out to his children, only this time he felt a kick and knew that it was his daughter. 

“Delia, you just kicked your daddy!” As if in response, she kicked again and Damien laughed and ended up spending the night at Oscar, enjoying this new way of communing with his children.   

Damien knew that because Kate was having twins, she would probably go into early labor; however, the first of December came and went, and she still had not given birth.  He also knew the day she had conceived and figured that if her pregnancy went full term, she stood a very good chance of delivering his children on Christmas day; not surprisingly, he hoped she hung on until then. 

Many months earlier, Damien had finalized the staff who would be caring for his children, but he had planned to spend the first month at home with them.  Not only wouldn’t it look proper to be at work full-time given that the children’s birth meant Kate’s death, but it would also provide an opportunity to bond with Delia and Alexander and to make sure that the people caring for his children were doing things the way that the new father wanted them done.  He had also disposed of the three nurses who had helped with the birth up to this point since they weren’t high enough up the food chain to ensure their silence on everything that had happened…

Eight o’clock on Christmas morning found Damien at the dining room table having breakfast with Thomas and Paul. 

“I’m glad that Caroline took the kids to California to see her mother; no Christmas crap to deal with.”  Thomas put a forkful of pancake into his mouth. 

Damien was about to devour his own forkful of pancake, when he froze, and his head whipped around, and he looked up.  Moments later, Kate screamed.

“It’s show time.”  Paul smiled at Damien and Thomas went off to call the ambulance. 

Damien went upstairs to wait with her, and twenty minutes later, two smiling paramedics were in the room putting her onto a gurney and taking her downstairs.  Damien had been able to get Kate to simply forget that she was pregnant and now, he was in her mind keeping her quiet, which he only had to do once the doctor gave her general anesthetic for her C-section.  Damien rode with Kate, holding her hand, comforting, and encouraging her.  His first choice had been to have the children delivered someplace private where the charade of caring for her could done away with. But knowing that she was going to die, he wanted to make it all look as above board as possible, so rather than going to some private medical facility, the ambulance was on its way to University of Chicago Hospital.

Once inside, Damien smiled.  Peppered among the assembled team waiting to usher the new generation of Thorns into the world were his people who would make sure that things happened the way that Damien wanted them to happen.  They knew to try their best to save Kate, but they would fight a losing battle and Kate Reynolds would make the ultimate maternal sacrifice, giving her life while bringing her children into the world.  Paul and Thomas turned up and all three of them sat in the waiting area as Damien now had to do what billions of fathers before him had done.

It took over an hour for the children to be born.  Delia and Alexander then had to be given the usual check-ups, all unnecessary but done anyway, and once Damien knew they were back there, all he wanted to do was see them.  But Taggart came out, his cap in his hand looking appropriately despondent and he knew that the enjoyment of having his children would have to be postponed.  Taggart put a hand on Damien’s shoulder and gave him the bad news and Paul and Thomas were by Damien’s side, providing unspoken support.

He asked to see Kate, and no sooner did he step into the room, when the tears that he was relieved that he didn’t have to shed flowed profusely from the nurses. Damien realized that Kate’s public birthing and death allowed for more than an ample supply of sympathy from people, which would be good for both him and his children. He pulled the sheet down from Kate’s face, held her hand, kissed her on the forehead and stood for a bit until he decided that he had done enough grieving and then pulled the sheet back up to cover her face.   

Taggart escorted him into the nursery, and he waited alone and for now, gone was any pretense of caring about Kate.  The doctor soon returned with a tiny pink bundle, but even without the color of the blanket, Damien knew that it was his daughter.  Taggart placed her in Damien’s arms and the world dissolved away until there was just her. 

“Hello, Delia, I’m Damien; I’m your father.  Didn’t I tell you that we’d eventually get to meet?” 

Delia scrunched her tiny face, blissfully unaware of what was going on around her.  He held her and she seemed both heavier and lighter than he had imagined.  Damien had no idea of how long he stood there, but he became aware that Taggart was now attempting to hand him Alexander and Damien kissed her on the cheek and grudgingly allowed the doctor to take Delia, who was handed off to a tearful nurse.   

Wrapped in a blue blanket, Alexander slept away, as unaware as his sister was that they had had a change of address. 

“Hello, Alexander, I’m your father, Damien and you are a very special little boy, who isn’t a little boy at all.” 

Damien handed his son to Taggart and very carefully moved Alexander’s hair and nestled beneath his thick, dark locks, were three tiny sixes.  Damien kissed his son’s head, and another nurse eventually came in to take away Alexander.  The new father soon joined Thomas and Paul out in the hall, where both of the Thorn children were now on display in the nursery window.  The only other parents who had given birth were staying away from the man who had become a widower and new father all in one day.

“I called Anna and she’ll handle everything to do with the funeral and she says congratulations.”  Thomas resisted the urge to slap Damien on the back.

Damien nodded.  It was becoming exceedingly difficult to look sad.  At least at home, he could retire to his room and contemplate his new role in private with a big fucking smile on his face.

“So, did you look?” Paul glanced over at the new father, who let an ever so slight smile sit on his face.

“What about her?”  

Thomas was staring at Delia, who was sleeping.  Damien turned to him and two seconds later, was trying to locate Taggart so he could look at his daughter.  A few minutes after Damien had disappeared, a nurse came in and took away Delia, and moments later, another nurse came for Alexander.  Damien then rejoined Thomas and Paul in the hallway.

“She has it?” Paul sounded as shocked as Damien looked.

“I knew she’d be...special.  She’s his protector, in theory, but I never thought that she’d have the mark as well, but it’s there.”

“It could be so that the poor girl doesn’t feel left out.  It’s going to be hard enough for her growing up in a world dominated by men, her father the Antichrist, her brother the Antichrist in training.” Thomas paused.  “Or maybe it’s so you’ll care for her. Maybe Satan figured that if she didn’t have the mark there was a chance that you wouldn’t want her.  This way, you’d know that Delia was yours and you’d be predisposed to look after her.”   

“I also had the doctor take some blood.  Given this new turn of events, I want to know what’s going on inside of them.”

It took roughly half an hour, but eventually the door opened, and Taggart waved Damien over and once again, he disappeared with the doctor.  Paul and Thomas watched as both babies were returned, and moments later, he came back out into the hall.

“What is it?”  

The two men followed Damien out into the waiting area where he grabbed his coat and put it on and then made for the exit; they were apparently taking Damien home.  In the car, Damien was silent and stared out the window, a smile on his face, finally being able, albeit temporarily, to show unadulterated happiness at the birth of his children.  Neither man could remember ever seeing him like this, but they took it in stride, as they did everything that had to do with their boss.  Once at the house, Thomas took aside the staff and explained that Kate had died and to give Damien some space.  Paul followed Damien to his room and they both waited for Thomas, who closed the door behind him.

“So, what did Taggart find out?”

“You’re killing us with the suspense, you do know that don’t you?” Thomas took off his coat and put it over one of the chairs. 

“They don’t have human blood cells.” 

Paul shook his head.  “Come again?”

“Taggart drew some blood and I looked and saw their blood cells.  I even made him take more blood with me watching.  He put the blood under the microscope again and…they have jackal blood cells, like me.” 

“How’s that possible?” Thomas raised an eyebrow at Damien.

“Taggart doesn’t have any idea and neither do I.”   

Of course, both Thomas and Paul would have been hard pressed to explain how Damien had come into the world, so any discrepancies having to do with the birth of his children were perhaps apropos. 

Thomas and Paul stayed for a late lunch and then left, leaving Damien alone, which suited him just fine since he wasn’t in the mood for any conversation.  He spent the night drifting in and out of sleep, anxious at the thought of having his children home with him.

…666…

The next day, Thomas drove Damien to the hospital and after a careful car ride home, Thomas pulled into the driveway where another guest was waiting to join the Thorn household, this one of the four-legged variety.

“I hope you like dogs.”  He smiled at Damien, who opened the door to the house and the dog, which would make a grand total of three, trotted in as if he had always been there.

The nannies were waiting to take the babies, but Damien told them to wait in the children’s rooms and he would bring the children to them. 

"Is there anything else you need…another arm, perhaps?”

“I’m good. I’ll come by the office at some point next week.”

“Don’t rush. Enjoy this. They grow up fast.” Thomas spoke from experience; he had five children, his last child, Aaron, had only been born last year.  He told Damien to call if he needed anything and then left the new father alone with his children. 

Damien brought Delia and Alexander up to the Chapel, where the door seemingly unlocked and opened itself. The minute the babies were in the room, they felt the Presence in there and both children, who were doing a minimal amount of fussing, now fell asleep.

 “Do you know whom you’re feeling? That is God, Satan, my Father, and your Grandfather.  Thank you, Father, for my children.”  He closed his eyes and let the serenity of the room relax him.  The last nine months had taken a toll and he was exhausted; he would sleep well tonight.

Damien delivered Alexander to Louise and Delia to Teresa and went into his room, closed the door, and smiled from ear to ear.  He settled at his desk upstairs and did some work, until he realized that it was nearly five and thought that he might be able to catch either baby about to be fed.  He stopped to look in on Alexander first and found Louise just about to give him his bottle. 

“Care to do the honors?”

Damien sat in the rocking chair and Louise handed Alexander to him and then the bottle, which Alexander happily sucked back.  He would have to wait to feed Delia, so instead went downstairs for an early dinner, and at eight-thirty, he decided that the day had gone on long enough. 

He went to his children’s rooms to spend some time with them before he went to bed.  Alexander’s dog was asleep by the crib and Louise, who had been reading, got up and left the new father with his son. He picked up Alexander, who slept through his father’s attentions.  Damien sat for a while and then kissed Alexander on the forehead, put his son back in his crib and moved over to Delia’s room.

As with Alexander, the dog lying beside the crib did not lift his head as Damien made his way over to his daughter.  Delia’s room was devoid of nanny as Louise must have told Teresa that Damien was coming around to see his children and wanted privacy.  As he had done with Alexander, Damien took Delia and held her, but as he looked at her, he suddenly realized that he knew next to nothing about girls and he wondered if she wouldn’t be better served with some kind of mother, but that would be something to which he would have to give serious thought before he decided about whether he would marry.

 At nine-thirty, Damien realized that he was exhausted and that he should leave his daughter alone to sleep so he kissed Delia, put her back into her crib and left, leaving the dog to do his job of guarding his Mistress. 

Damien was too tired to do any work tonight, but he knew that while he wouldn’t be in the office every day, he would be keeping up with everything that was happening at Thorn.  He stripped, got into bed, and shut off the light. 

It was over.  Kate was dead, he had the daggers and it had only been the so-called birth of the nazarene that had precipitated the hunt for him.  As he lay there, he thought that They now stood a good chance of being able to sway the human race from their fixation with the christian god and be moved to love a God who was much better choice for them than one who was disgusted by the very beings whom he had created.  Damien closed his eyes, turned over and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

Damien had gotten up early with the intention of helping Delia and Alexander get dressed.  It had been a hectic week at Thorn, and he had been gone before the children were awake, so he wanted to spend some time with them before he left this morning. However, he no sooner got out into the hall when Teresa was coming out of Delia’s room. 

“Good morning, Mr. Thorn.” 

“Good morning, Teresa. Is she already dressed?” His eyes went to Delia’s door.

“Yes, I’m sorry, did you want to see to Delia this morning?” 

Damien smiled. “It’s okay.  Maybe I can get to Alexander before Louise does.” 

“Louise is already in there, but perhaps she hasn’t started dressing him yet. Would you like to see to Delia tomorrow morning?”

“I’d call that a plan. I’ll see you downstairs, Teresa.”

Teresa laughed. “Very good, Mr. Thorn.”

Damien went into his son’s room and sure enough, there was Alexander already dressed for the day and sitting on Louise’s lap.

Of course, when the relatively new father said that he wanted to see to his children in the morning, it was assumed that their diapers were removed and that they had, with help from Teresa and Louise, used the toilet. 

Most of the other parents Damien knew had very little to do with the raising of their own children. He had seen more than a few crying children running to their nannies rather than their parents, and while he had no interest in completely handing over his children to be raised by someone else, he had drawn the line at changing diapers and wiping asses.  The nannies whom he had chosen were picked because they had consented to care for the children the way that Damien demanded. 

“It looks like I have to get up pretty early in this house to get my children dressed.” 

“Daddy!”

Alexander scrambled down off Louise’s lap and ran over to Damien, who scooped up his son and gave him a hug.  He held Alexander over the bed, and he began giggling.  “Here comes the bomb!” Damien lifted him higher and then let him fall.  Alexander bounced on the bed, laughed, rolled off and came over to his father. 

“Again, daddy!”

Though in his excitement, he could barely get out the words.  Damien did as he was instructed and let him fall a second time. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thorn, I didn’t...”

“It’s alright, but I’ll see to him tomorrow morning.  How did he do?” Damien had dropped Alexander a third time, who by now was laughing too hard to even ask, he had simply held out his arms to his father.

Louise smiled. “It’s to be expected.  It can be more difficult for boys to make it through the night without accidents, but there’s always tomorrow.  I’ll see you downstairs, Alexander.” 

“Bye, Lulu.”  He batted his eyes at her and gave her a shy smile that wasn’t fooling anybody.

Louise smiled back at him.  “He’s such a flirt.”  She closed the door behind her, leaving father and son alone. 

Damien knew better; his son was not just being flirtatious or extroverted.  Damien could feel something more from him; he could feel that supernatural ability to connect empathetically with people.  That had been the big reason that he had decided to take more of an active role in raising his children, so that he could be aware if either of them began to show signs of their true natures. However, he had discovered that he liked taking care of the children, especially now that Delia and Alexander were interesting and could talk more.  Damien looked at his son and hoped that his...flirtatiousness was the limit of things for now; three was too young to have to be explaining things to his son.

A rumbling issued forth from Alexander and he grabbed his belly and laughed. 

“I think you have a bear in there.”  Damien poked his stomach.  “Are you hungry?” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” 

“What are you going to eat?” 

“Toast.”

“And?”

“Milk.”

“And?”

“Juice.”

“And?”

“Bacon.”

“And?”

“Banas...and...”

Damien got up, grabbed the brush, sat on the bed, and brushed Alexander’s hair. “And more?  Your stomach will explode, and more what?”

“Bacon!”

Damien laughed. “You and your sister like your bacon.”  He gave Alexander the once over and considered his son presentable enough to go downstairs.

However, in mentioning Delia, Damien had said magic words and the sunny skies over Alexander’s head turned dark. 

“Daddy, Deedle mad an’ sad.” 

In learning to say her own name, Delia had inadvertently provided a nickname for herself, but it was only used by her father and brother.

Damien did not bother asking how his son knew that Delia was mad. Besides Alexander being “flirtatious,” both he and Delia were aware that they could feel what the other one felt. Damien always made sure to comment that being twins made them special, able to feel things that other brothers and sisters couldn’t and so far, neither child questioned Damien’s proffered explanation.  He reached out and indeed, he could feel Delia’s upset emotional state.

 “Why is Deedle mad and sad?”

Alexander looked at his father. “‘Dee-lee-lee-ah, say Day-may-me-in.’”

“Delia’s upset because she can’t say my name?” Alexander’s head went up and down. He was trying to teach Delia to say his name, and so far, it wasn’t going very well. “Alright Xandman, let’s go get your sister.”  Damien led Alexander over to the door that separated their bedrooms.  Normally, Alexander’s dog would have been trailing after them, but Louise had sent the dog downstairs.

Alexander looked up at his father. “Daddy, Deedle mad.” The tone was one of warning.

“Well, Delia can be anything she wants to be, but if the spitting or throwing things starts, I’m going to be mad, and she’ll end up with a sore behind.”  Damien worked through Delia’s temper with her and tolerated nearly any unpleasant behavior...except for spitting or throwing things.

Alexander knocked on the door.  “Dee-lee-lee-ah, are Ander and daddy, please.”   

Damien smiled; he had to admit that at times, Alexander could be downright fucking adorable. 

He knocked again. “Dee-lee-lee-ah, are Anander and daddy, open?” He put his two hands on the knob and turned, opening the door, but he looked up at his father; Damien was teaching his children to knock first before entering a room.   

“It’s okay.”  And they headed into the storm front. 

Damien and Alexander came over to the bed.  There were two lumps under the covers and the larger of the two lumps raised his head when the master of the house had come into the room.  The dog worked his way from under the blankets, jumped onto the floor and sat, waiting for his young Mistress to come out. Damien looked down and noticed a small pile of clothing on the floor. They wouldn’t have been from yesterday; Teresa would have put those in the laundry hamper. Clearly, Teresa had dressed Delia, but no sooner had Teresa left then Delia had taken off her clothes, put her pajamas back on, grabbed the dog, got into bed, and pulled the covers up over her head. 

“Delia, are you under there?”

“No.” 

“So, who’s under there?” 

“Me.” 

Damien tried not to smile. “Delia, come out, please, I want to talk to you.”

“No.” 

“Delia...”

“No.”

“I want to go downstairs and eat breakfast with you and your brother, and I can’t do that if you’re up here.”

“No.”

“Delia, if I have to take those blankets off you...” but Damien felt a tug on his hand.

Alexander climbed up onto his sister’s bed and put his hand on the lump, “Daddy sad; I sad. Out, please.”    

Damien wasn’t sure it would work, but Alexander patiently sat with his hand on the lump until a pair of brown eyes and dark hair appeared over the top of the blankets and then her whole head came out and she eventually she sat up. 

“Good morning, Miss Thorn.” Damien smiled at his daughter, and he could feel frustration begin to rise off of her like smoke from a fire, but he shook his head.  “It’s okay, you can just say daddy.”

“Hi, hi, daddy.”

“See? It’s daddy all ‘round, so let’s stow the temper for now, okay?” Delia came over to her father and he put her in his lap. 

“Hi, hi, daddy.”

Damien didn’t have to be empathetic to know she was still sad. He kissed her temple.

Alexander came closer and locked eyes with his sister. “Deedle.”   

Delia looked at her brother and Damien could feel her mood grudgingly begin to lift. Alexander did not stop looking her. 

“Deedle.”

Delia smiled but hid her face in Damien’s chest.  Apparently, she would make her brother work for her good mood. 

“Deedle.”

Delia turned around and looked at her brother. “Nander.”

“Deedle, Deedle.”

“Nander, Nander.” Delia was now sitting up straight, her bad mood mostly gone. 

“Deedle, Deedle, Deedle.”

“Nander, Nander, Nander.” Delia had gotten off Damien’s lap and was standing in front of her brother.   

“Deedle, Deedle, Deedle, Deedle.”  But Alexander’s chant was drowned out by Delia saying her brother’s name and soon, the pair of them were too overcome with giggling to say much more of anything.  They put their foreheads together and calmed down.

Damien shook his head.  Much of the interaction between his children was proving to be a mystery to him, but he didn’t question it. Delia was fine...for now.

“Daddy, drop me, please!”

Damien stood and picked up Delia as he had done with his son. “Here comes bomb number two!” He let go of her and she landed on the bed with a bounce, and she howled with laughter.  She rolled off the bed and stood in front of her father. “Though with that temper of yours, I think you should be bomb number one.” 

“Milo and me are hungry.” She took off her pajamas and began to dress herself.  Alexander could dress himself, too, but needed more help since he tended to get distracted. The two of them had also named all of the dogs in the house Milo, but neither one of them understood that when they called their dogs, the dogs were responding to the children without the need for a name.  

“‘Milo and I are hungry.’ Well, once we get you dressed, again, we can all go downstairs to eat.”

Delia made good time getting dressed until the last part. “Daddy, my buckles...please.”  She had been able to remove her overalls to get back into her pajamas but could not do them back up, so he snapped the straps in place; she was now dressed the same as her brother, except Delia’s overalls were lilac and Alexander’s were blue.  Even their hair was similar, with both Thorn children sporting short hair, though Delia’s was longer than Alexander’s and both of their hair was only as short as their father deemed safe. 

Damien got up and grabbed a brush and to fix Delia’s hair and then looked over at his son, who was sitting on the floor with Delia’s dog telling him a story. 

He had been right that Alexander would not look like him. In fact, neither Delia nor Alexander really looked like Damien, nor Kate for that matter, but when the children were with their father, people were convinced that the children had this or that feature that was the same as Damien’s and with the exception of Alexander’s blue eyes, people saw what they wanted to see and that suited father just fine. 

Damien put the brush back on her dresser. “Now, I believe mademoiselle said that she was hungry?” Delia giggled and nodded enthusiastically.  “Let’s see what Anita has made us for breakfast.”  And with that, Damien took his children by the hands and brought them to breakfast, as Milo trailed behind them. 

Once downstairs, Delia located Teresa and the two of them went off to the bathroom and when they returned, Damien put Delia in the chair, placing her between him and her brother.  The children had recently moved out of highchairs to booster seats and Teresa pushed in her chair so that his daughter could easily reach the table and her plate.   

During breakfast, like at every meal, the Thorns were fussed over by Anita, Teresa, and Louise.  Alexander loved it and couldn’t get enough of the attention. He giggled and batted his eyes at anyone who would have it, it generally earned him an extra cookie or whatever else he happened to have his eye on, and at breakfast, that tended to be bacon.  Damien was unruffled by the goings on, he was used to being the center of attention, but then there was Delia. 

She was generally quieter than Alexander, though when they two of them were alone, they seemed to balance each other out; she spoke more around him and he spoke less with her, but at times like these, nothing, no threats, bribes nor sweet talk could get Delia to speak.  She silently watched and if she wanted something, she asked for it by way of Alexander. However, he couldn’t be that bothered by her silence since as a child, he had hardly been one for conversation. 

Damien leaned over and kissed his daughter on the head, feeling her uneasiness and she leaned against her father, putting a piece of bacon in her mouth.  After some chewing, Delia turned to her brother and opened her mouth to show him the food that was in there.  Alexander laughed and showed his sister the food that was in his mouth, which got a laugh from Delia. 

“That’s enough of that, thank you.”  The tone which Damien used was familiar enough with both children to know that he meant business. 

“Day-may-me-in, do you work?” Alexander looked over at his father. 

“Yep, though I’d rather stay here and play with the both of you; you are much more fun and much smarter than most of the people at work.” Damien reached over and tousled his son’s hair.

The use of Damien’s name had made Delia antsy again and added to her discomfort of having this many people around, she was back to being an unhappy camper.

“Dis for Deedle.” 

Alexander took a piece of bacon off his plate and gave it to his sister, who smiled at him and promptly shoved the bacon in her mouth in case he changed his mind.  

“That is being a very good brother.”

“Help Deedle.”

“Help with what?” Damien was done eating and was finishing up his coffee, but Alexander had gone back to eating, enjoying the banana that Anita had brought him.  Damien let his son eat and took Delia to wash her hands, giving him a few minutes alone with his daughter.

With one notable exception, Damien had been surprised to discover that he had more in common with Delia than he did with Alexander.  When she wasn’t with her brother or father, she preferred solitary activities and when his son had his friends over to play and they would run screaming through the house like lunatics, she would sit quietly building something or looking at books.  She sometimes lost her temper when things didn’t go right, but Damien realized it was because her reach exceeded her grasp and she wanted to do more than she was physically capable of doing.  Lately, Damien had begun taking her on his longer walks and he found that even when they had walked for nearly an hour, hardly a word would pass between them.  Damien had wanted intelligent children and had gotten them, both by genetics and work on his part, but she was the smarter of the two and he genuinely enjoyed keeping his daughter challenged.

“Are you okay?” Damien handed Delia a towel and helped her dry her hands.  

Knowing that her father wanted words, she nodded her head and spoke.

“Yes, daddy.”

“When I was little like you, I didn’t say a lot either and I still don’t like a lot of people around at one time, but we’ll work on that, like we work on your temper.  Can I have a hug?”

Instead, Delia held out her hands and Damien took them, and she walked up his legs until she had her legs around his waist and put her arms around him.  “Who are you?” Damien narrowed his eyes at Delia, attempting to be intimidating, but she wasn’t buying it and she laughed. 

“I Deedla Forn.”  She put her index finger against her chest.    

“And how old are you, Deedla Forn?”

“I free.”   

“Who else is three?”

“Nander!” 

“And who else?”

“Milo!”

“How old is daddy?”

Delia held out her arms as wide as they would go, and Damien laughed. “That’s pretty much how old I am. Te amo, Deedle.”

“Love you, daddy.”

“Let’s go see what your brother is up to.”

He put her down in the foyer and Alexander came running over, and both children then watched as he put on his coat and boots. 

“While I’m at work, what work will you be doing?” Damien put his hands on his thighs and bent over, staring at them.  

“Alfalfabits!” Alexander began spinning and making invisible letters in the air.  Though for Delia, that also included copying the first five letters of the Greek alphabet. 

“Come here.” He pulled his children closer, kissing them. “I love both of you. Be good for Teresa and Louise and Anita and I will see you both when I get home from work.” More kisses and protestations of love were exchanged, and Damien headed out into the frigid Chicago winter.

...666...    

Damien was home at four, earlier than usual.  The weather was nasty and was promising to get worse, so he had closed up shop early.  However, when he walked through the front door, he found Delia and Alexander sitting on the steps waiting for him, their dogs stretched out on the marble floor.  There wasn’t anything unusual in that.  At the children’s insistence, someone in the house usually told them when to sit on the steps to wait for Damien, but he hadn’t called home to tell anyone of his early arrival.  He couldn’t help wondering if they’d had somehow known he would be home before his usual time.  He came over to them and Delia stood up.

“Lift me, please.”

Damien picked her up and kissed her on the forehead. “So, Miss and Mr. Thorn, what adventures did you get up to today?”

“Day-min.” 

Delia took her hands and squished his face. He shook his head.  “Wait...what did you say?”

“Day-min, Day-min, Day-min.”  She mashed his face every time she said his name. He looked down at his son, who was beaming. “Alexander, did you do this?”

“I help De-li-a, Da-mi-en.” 

Teresa and Louise came to check on the children only to find Damien with them. “You’re home early, Mr. Thorn. Is it that bad out there?”

Damien nodded.  “They’re talking about closing the roads. Anita can spend the night in one of guest rooms.” He turned back to his children; something had gone on here today and he wanted to find out what.  He smiled. “Good job, Xander.  Why don’t the two of you go into my study and color until I come and get you, okay?” Damien put down Delia and the two of them took off running, the dogs following closely behind.  Teresa smiled and followed the children.  Damien turned to Louise.  “How did everything go today?”

“Fine. Delia and Alexander tried to lock us out of his room, but...” Louise smiled, took out her key and dangled it and then returned it to her pocket.

“What happened?”

“After you left, Alexander took Delia up to his room.  We went up to check and make sure there weren’t any washroom emergencies, and to bring them down to do their work, which I don’t think they did, but the door was locked.  I unlocked the door, and they were sitting on the floor.  We brought them down for a snack and Alexander tried to take Delia upstairs again, but we made them promise not to lock the door and they kept their promise; when we went to get them for lunch, and to put them down for a nap, the door was shut but not locked.

“Why were they waiting on the stairs?”

“We told them that you weren’t going to be home until five, but they’ve been sitting like that for an hour.  We’d take them to the bathroom, but when they were done, they’d come right back to the stairs.  You’re concerned.  Would you have preferred that we called you?”

Damien thought about it; nothing bad had happened.  He knew that if Teresa or Louise hadn’t been able to open the door, they would have called the police and fire department and Damien.  Clearly, the two of them had waited on the stairs because they were excited at Delia learning how to say his name.  “No, Louise, it was fine.  Can you please tell Anita that she’s spending the night?”

“Of course.” 

He brought his briefcase to the study and watched his children color. Damien had felt different after he had found out who he was, but the birth of his children had provided him with an external frame of reference that allowed him to understand exactly how different from people the three of them really were. 

Delia snatched a green crayon out of her brother’s hand and Alexander tried to get it back, but he was fighting a losing battle.  Damien waded into the fray ahead of Teresa.  “Delia, your brother had that first, don’t grab things out of his hand.”  Delia returned the crayon to her brother.

“Is there anything else, Mr. Thorn?”

“No, thank-you, Teresa, but I’d appreciate a call to dinner.”  She nodded and left. Damien scooped up Alexander, hung him upside down and brought him over to the leather sofa and sat him on his lap.  Delia came over, clambered up onto the sofa and came over to her father.

“I have the smartest children in the world.” Damien kissed the top of Alexander’s head. “But, locking the door today so that Teresa and Louise couldn’t get in? I don’t want you to do that anymore.  You can shut the door and kept it all the way closed and like I teach you to knock on doors before you go inside, Teresa and Louise know to do that too, so they won’t come in without knocking first.  They were worried that you would hurt yourselves, so don’t do it again, okay?” And both children nodded their heads in agreement with what Damien had said.

“Day-min, you work big bildin’ today?” She stood on the couch and held her hand up as high as it would go.

“That is a very big building and does Deedla Forn like going to the big building?”

“Yes, go.”  She jumped off the couch, but he reached out and grabbed her before she could make it to the door.

“Not now, but I can take you with me the day after tomorrow, okay, Junior?”

Thomas had provided Delia’s other nickname when Damien had taken her into work one day and father and daughter had been so engrossed in their individual tasks, that neither had heard Thomas come in. However, unlike Deedle, Junior made the rounds with both Paul and Anna, who had given Alexander his nickname, Xandman.  “But, if you think the big building is fun, wait until the museum finishes getting rebuilt.  There’s going to be dinosaurs.”

“Dine’saurs?” Alexander’s eyes were the size of dinner plates.

“Lots of dinosaurs.”

Delia squealed in a pitch that was only produced by dolphins and very excited children and put her fists up to her mouth and bounced on the balls of her feet.  She said something to her brother, who answered back, but nothing that either one said was comprehensible to Damien.  Then she made claws with her hands and bared her teeth and roamed the room pretending to be a dinosaur.  Not to be outdone, Alexander did the same and he came over to his sister, the two of them gnashing their teeth in each other’s faces.  But the two dinosaurs gave up terrorizing each other and turned on their father.

“Oh no, here come the scary dinosaurs.” They pounced on Damien with the intention of gobbling him. “Hey, if you eat me, there won’t be any room for dinner. What if I told both of you that you weren’t dinosaurs, but you were jackals, instead?”

“No, I a ‘saur,” Delia shook her head, adamant that she was a dinosaur.

“Well, we’ll see.”  Damien could feel their excitement and realized that there would be no discussion about how Alexander had done what he had did and Damien realized that it didn’t matter. He had been beaming not with pride, but with happiness, pleased that his sister was no longer sad. 

When they were first born, Damien had been worried that the two would have an antagonistic relationship with each other, but that hadn’t turned out to be the case.  Damien disliked thinking about it, but part of his daughter’s role was that of protector, possibly having to give up her life for her brother should the need arise and that was already bad enough; them disliking each other would have made things worse. 

Of course, they still had disagreements and Damien watched as Alexander had grabbed Delia’s hand and was slowly pulling it towards his waiting teeth.  Delia was laughing, which if her fingers made it into her brother’s mouth would shortly turn to crying for the both of them. 

“Alexander, do you want Delia to hit you?”

“No.”

The tone in Alexander’s voice told Damien that being slugged by Delia would be a very bad thing to happen. “Then, you might want to rethink what you’re doing.” 

And to his credit, Alexander quickly dropped his sister’s hand.

Damien sat on the floor with the children helping them do their letters.  He didn’t bother asking them if they had done their work, they had accomplished something else today. 

There was a knock on the study door.  “As requested, Mr. Thorn, one call to dinner.” Teresa called the dogs to her. They would be fed and let outside.

Damien pulled his children closer and gave them a smile that would have frozen the blood of even the hardiest of souls, but it fazed neither Delia nor Alexander.  “For right now, you are jackals, and this daddy jackal is very, very hungry and if he gets to the table ahead of his pups, that’s you and your sister, he’s going to eat all the food.”

“No daddy jack-all eat the food!” Alexander grabbed Delia and the two of them went running for the dining room, afraid that there would be no dinner left for them. 

Damien smiled and waited until he figured that Teresa and Louise would have caught them and took them off to use the bathroom and wash their hands and then he went and joined his children for dinner.   

Chapter Text

Cecile had left the family chicken pot pie for dinner, which was quickly becoming the children’s favorite meal. Damien put a forkful of food into his mouth and smiled; it was very good. Anita had been an excellent cook, but she had retired, which was how he had ended up with Cecile. She had come highly recommended from someone at work and after an extensive background check, Damien had hired her and she had impressed him, something that was nearly impossible to do. She was a graduate from several culinary schools, including Le Cordon-Bleu and he especially looked forward to coming home from work and finding out what was for dinner.

As if that wasn’t enough, she spoke four languages and was teaching the children French and Spanish. Cecile treated Delia and Xander like intelligent people, but also recognized that they were children and needed boundaries, which was why she had quit her last position; her previous employer had expected her to let his children do whatever they had wanted.    

The children were eating when they looked at each other and then Alexander turned to his father. No doubt, the two of them had hatched some plan while he had been at work.

“Damien?”

“Xander?”

“Deedle and I would like to go to the upstairs room, please.”

He had never been secretive about going up to the Chapel when it was only he and the children in the house. Lately, however, it was becoming more difficult to get up there when the children were home and awake, because if not occupied at some task, either one, or both, demanded to accompany him into the room. They had asked their father on previous occasions to go in, but what made the request unusual this time was that it was his son doing the requesting. Perhaps, they were trying a different strategy.

“I’ve told both of you that you can’t go into the room right now; it belongs to all of us, but I don’t want either one of you in there for the time being.”

“But why?”

And if he had a nickel for every time that his daughter had uttered those words since she had learned to talked, he could buy and sell himself. “You know that I explain things to you and your brother, but when it comes to this, I use Damien’s prerogative…because I said so.”  

“But father, Xander and I want to go inside.”

“Just because you want something, doesn’t mean that you are going to get it.” 

Delia’s eyes narrowed and she frowned, a sure sign that she was displeased with something, and then went back to eating her dinner.

“And making a face like that isn’t helping your case.”

“The door is locked.” 

“Yes, it is, so that neither you, nor your sister, nor anyone else can get in.”

“Do you have the key?”

“Yes.”

“Where is the key?”

Damien could feel Xander’s less than subtle attempt to manipulate him into giving away the secret, but he only gave his son a warning look across the forkful of food that he was about to put in his mouth.

“But daddy…”

Then silence as he turned to his sister and moments later, the wickedest smiles that Damien had ever seen passed between the two of them and then they resumed eating; but Delia, being her father’s daughter, couldn’t help but look at him with an expression on her face that dared him to try to figure out what the two of them were up to…

...666...

The next morning at breakfast, Damien watched them and every now and then, they would exchange glances between each other. As usual, his children saw him off at the door. He bent down, putting his hands on his thighs. “What are you two going to do today?”

“The translation work you left us for us.”

 Alexander met his gaze and Damien didn’t sense any deception from him, which wasn’t surprising considering how good his son usually was at getting what he wanted.

“Is that all?” He turned his attention to his daughter.

“Sí.”

Delia looked him in the eyes, but he could feel a tremor of uncertainty from her; she was hiding something.

“I’ll see you when I come home from work, señor y señorita.”

The usual declarations and displays of affection were exchanged between everyone and then Damien left.

...666...  

His day wasn’t very busy; only two short meetings made up his morning and he had intended to spend the rest of the day in his office getting caught up with reports, which were always backlogged. Instead, after the meetings, he had grabbed a stack of folders and took off early, intending to catch his children in flagrante delicto.

Damien knew that they would never find the key since he currently had it in his pocket, and he knew that there was no way for them to get into the room. He had no intention of punishing his children, neither for lying to him, nor for trying to do something that they knew what displease their father. Instead, he was curious to see to what lengths they would go through in order to get into the Chapel, and to let them know that they weren’t quite smart enough to put one over on their old man. He smiled. Both last night and this morning, his children had possessed all the nuance of a runaway train in their machinations about getting into the room. He would have to teach them to be cleverer in their attempts at being devious.

Once at home, he had the driver drop him off halfway up the driveway and he walked the rest of the way up to the house and let himself in. Neither one of them was in the foyer and he put his stuff in the closet and silently made his way up the stairs. His children were still unaware of their own talents and therefore would not have the foresight to “feel” for their father to prevent themselves from being caught red-handed. Just in case, he masked his own presence and once on the second floor, made his way to his bedroom and opened the door only to find the room deserted, but they had been there.

Drawers that were normally closed all the way were ajar. The bedding, which Cecile would have fixed, was wrinkled. He went to his walk-in closet and opened the door: his suits had been moved and his shoes were crooked. He looked down and saw marks in the carpet where one of them had pulled over the chair and stood on it to search the shelf, though whoever it was would have discovered that he or she was still too short to look on the shelf of his closet.

Damien looked in both of their rooms and found them empty; however, he had to laugh when he saw that they had both finished the work that he had left for them. He had a pretty good idea that if the pair had been unsuccessful in his room, there would be one other place that they would check before giving up, so he made his way back downstairs, but before he got to his study, he heard Cecile laugh.

So that had been the plan. Xander, with his natural people skills, would keep Cecile occupied while his sister searched the study. He made his way over to the door and listened but couldn’t hear anything. Whatever she was doing, she was doing it quietly. Damien opened the door and there she was.

Delia had emptied the contents of the center drawer onto the top of his desk and was now carefully picking her way through various objects to find the key. He looked around the room, but nothing else seemed out of place. Either she had not yet gotten to the other parts of the study, or she had already searched and put things back where they belonged. She was so absorbed in her task that she hadn’t looked up when her father entered the room. Damien cleared his throat and her head jerked up as if it had been pulled by a wire.

“So, Gollum, any luck finding the ring?” 

Delia didn’t understand the reference, but she stood there defiantly locking eyes with him.

“I want everything back in the drawer, please, neatly arranged, and the drawer put back in the desk by the time I come back with your brother.”

Damien went out to the kitchen where his son was helping Cecile with lunch. All three dogs were sitting and staring up at the counter, hoping that she would have some kind of a mishap with the bacon. Alexander was patting his dog on the head, but stopped when Damien came in. One look at his father’s face told him that the jig was up.

“Mr. Thorn, I didn’t realize that you would be home so early. Joining the children for lunch?”

“Cecile, almuerzo suena maravilloso. Sólo necesito hablar con mis hijos por un minuto. Xander would join me in my study, please?” He walked back with his father, but once in the room, they discovered Delia gone; but everything, including the drawer, was still on top of his desk.

“She’s upstairs, daddy.” 

Damien made his way up to the third floor, but Xander streaked by him, intending to get to his sister before their father did. When he found her, she had her hands wrapped around the doorknob turning it, and her right shoulder was against the door pushing for all she was worth. She stopped what she was doing and began pounding her fists against the door and kicking it.

Panicked, Alexander looked up at his father. “Please stop her.”

Damien picked up his daughter, whom he grabbed in mid-kick, and sat at the top of the stairs with her. She bucked in her father’s arms. “Delia, stop.”

“But I want in.” She turned and looked at her father. “Please, daddy?” 

Normally, those two words spoken by his daughter with that imploring look in her eyes could get him to do nearly anything, but he wouldn’t budge on this. “Deedle, no, not this time.” He relaxed his grip on her and she went over to her brother.

Xander, who normally gave up on things quicker than his sister, seemed not to want to let go of this particular bone. He stood at the door and kept turning the knob, as if this time would be the time that the door opened for him. He looked over at his sister, but she was in no more of a position to do anything about their predicament than he was. Her solution, like her brother, was to try the doorknob again.

“Please come here, both of you,” They came to him, but both looked with longing back at the door. Damien put his son in his lap. “I want you to tell me why you want in the room.”  Both child’s eyes lit up since their father usually demanded that they explain why they wanted things before they could do or get them, but he shook his head. “You still will not be allowed to go into the room, but I want to know why you want in. Is it because I said you can’t?”

“No.” Delia shook her head.

“Is it because the door is locked?”

“Locks mean danger for us.” Xander carefully regarded his father.

“But this door is locked.”

“It isn’t dangerous in there, Damien.” She turned and looked at the door.

“How do you know?”

His son shrugged. “I don’t know, we just know.” 

Damien reached out and tried to assess their emotional states to find out their motivations for getting into the room; however, all he could feel was desire and want, but could not separate out what those wants, and desires were. He could go into his children’s minds to know what they wanted, he had been able to do that when they were younger, but there was no way to do that now and not have them know what he was doing and that would lead to all kinds of questions that he wasn’t quite yet prepared to answer.

He had not considered the ramifications of cutting off his children from being inside the Chapel, both of whom he had brought into the room before either could talk. Clearly, the children felt the pull of Satan, just as Damien did, but he could satisfy his desire of being closer to his Father with his own knowledge of who and what he was and could delay his own need to be inside the room; the children could not.

“I want you both to look at me. I misjudged why you want in there, but I can’t let you in that room. Do you both trust me?”

Both Thorn children nodded.

“I promise you that one day you both will go in there, and you will each have your own key and you will be able to come and go in and out of the room whenever you want.”

“Really?” Alexander lifted one of his eyebrows.

He smiled. “Yes, really. I told you that the room belongs to all of us, and you and your sister will be in there one day, I promise.” 

“Daddy, why are you home from work?”

She looked at him and asked the question with such honesty, it prompted him to laugh. “Because you and Alexander possess all the subtly of a heart attack.”

Delia frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Junior, that you and the Xandman aren’t very tricky.” Damien smiled and pulled Delia to him.

“Are we in trouble?”

“Normally, yes, Xander, you would be. First, you both lied to me and then you tried to do something that you knew I didn’t want you to do. I have my own reasons for not punishing either of you; but know that the next time you go behind my back like that, there will be consequences and whenever you feel like you have to be in that room, you come and talk to me, even if it’s in the middle of the night.”

“When it’s nighttime?”

She looked at her father with an expression on her face that suggested doing anything else at night except sleeping was crazy talk.

“Yes, Delia, even when it’s nighttime. Even if you are here during the day and you feel the need to be in the room, you get Cecile to call me, and I’ll talk to you.”

“Are you going back to work now?” The preemptive disappointment in Alexander’s voice was matched by Delia’s frown at the thought of their father having to leave.

“Well, I could, or...I could stay home with both of you.”

“Yay, daddy is going to stay home with us!”

Alexander clapped his hands and Delia threw her arms around him.

“Did you two finish the work that I left?” Damien already knew the answer to the question, but he wanted to see what his children would say.

“We did our work first.”

His daughter beamed with pride at the fact that she and her brother had completed the translation exercises that Damien had left for them before they had gone skulking around the house.

 “Xander, will you please go downstairs and tell Cecile that we will be down shortly to eat lunch? I want to speak with your sister for a minute.”

“You got it, D-man.”  He got up and took off down the stairs.

This was not the first time that the children had tried to get into the Chapel, but it had been the most frantic. Each had been fueled by the other’s desire, but Delia’s need had been the greater and without clarifying, Damien knew that it had been she who had gotten her brother to ask their father because even now, he could feel how much she wanted into the room. He pulled her into his lap, kissed to top of her head and without going into her mind, simply felt calmly, and radiated it at his daughter and she began to relax and the two of them sat there until she was mellow enough for Damien to stop worrying about her.

Something was up with her. She had always been quiet, preferring to be by herself, or with her brother or father, but lately, it had become like pulling teeth to get her play with other children. Even Aaron, Thomas’ son and seemingly the only child, minus her brother, with whom Delia enjoyed playing, was persona non grata at the Thorn household. For the past month or so, Damien had pushed her as hard as he dared to try to find out what was wrong, but she would just shake her head. His daughter was only five, but he suspected that she had already begun to tap into her true self.

“Tell me what you think is in the room. I sent your brother downstairs so we could have privacy and whatever you say to me, I promise, I won’t tell him.”

She turned to the door and regarded it taciturnly and turned back to her father, but only shook her head.

“You know, you can tell me anything, anytime day or night.”  

After some more silence, she laid her head against his shoulder. “It’s special in there, daddy.” 

Her voice was a whisper and Damien let it go for now. He would have to be more vigilant when it came to his daughter. “More special than you know, Miss Thorn. Come on, je sais que Cécile a préparé quelque chose de très délicieux pour le déjeuner.” Both Delia and Damien were now standing.

Delia nodded her head. “Grilled cheese with bacon and her homemade tomato soup.”

But her voice was rife with confusion and a frown now sat on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Father, what is that?”

He turned to see what she had pointed at, but no sooner did he turn around then his daughter took off down the stairs like she had been shot out of a cannon.

“I bet you think I’m tricky now!”

Her voice sang up from downstairs and she laughed, and he could tell that she was running into the kitchen, where she would wash her hands and join her brother at the kitchen table.

Damien smiled as he made his way down the stairs. She was getting better because that time, he hadn’t been able to tell that she was lying at all.

Chapter Text

Delia had not wanted to go to the birthday party but had acquiesced mainly because her brother wanted her there. The party was for Matthew Patterson, the son of the head of the legal department at Thorn. He was turning eight, the same age as she and Xander would be in December. However, the morning of the party, she was reminded by her father that she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to.

“He wants me to go, so I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to do something just because your brother wants you to do it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not just going because he wants me there, I also don’t want to stay home by myself.” She put her last slice of bacon on a piece of toast and put it in her mouth and then held out her plate for Cecile. “May I have more, please?”

Cecile placed another plate of bacon, toast, and fruit salad in front of her, and she was eating when Alexander came downstairs. He hugged his father and came over to her, and he put his forehead against hers.

“Morning, Deedle.”

“Morning, Xander.”

Cecile placed Xander’s plate of food on the table and he sat. “Are you excited!?”

“For what?”

“For the party, dork.”

She watched as her brother attached his meal with his usual gusto. “No.”

“Then you don’t have to go. I don’t want you to do something you don’t wanna do.”

“It’s okay. I’d rather be with you and father than stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, dork.” She stuck her tongue out at him and went back to eating as her brother turned his attention to their father.

“Can we play twenty questions?”

“And what happens if I say no?”

“Then I make my sad face.” He pouted and scrunched up his face like he was going to cry.

Damien shuddered. “With a face like that, you could turn people to stone. I’m assuming you have someone in mind?”

“Yep.”

“Male?”

“Yes.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

“Is it me?”

“First, that should be ‘is it I’ and second, it’s not you.” He finished what was on his plate and without asking, Cecile simply replaced his empty plate with a full one.

“Thank you, Captain Grammar. Do I know this person?”

“Yes.” Alexander smirked and continued eating.

The game got down to the final two questions, when she gasped. “It’s Milo. Father, it’s your dog!”

“Delia.” He turned to his sister.

“Sorry.” But the self-amusement that she felt at having guessed betrayed the sincerity of her apology.

“Why do you have to be such a show-off?”

“Shut-up, I am not.” She picked up her cloth napkin and threw it at him.

“You shut-up, show off.” Xander picked up the napkin and threw it back at his sister.

“Stop it, or there won’t be anybody going to the party. And yes, Delia, you are. We all know you’re smart, so you don’t have to prove it every time you open your mouth, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir, and Xander, I’m sorry I ruined your game.”

“See the things I have to endure, father?” He shook his head and faked an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, kid, you got a real hard luck life.” 

After everyone was done eating, they headed out to the car. Damien opted out of driving, so all three of them sat in the back. Alexander wanted to remind Delia that she wasn’t the only smart one, so he asked their father to quiz them on American history...and then proceeded to beat the metaphorical pants off his sister.

Once they arrived at the Patterson’s estate, the driver pulled into the long driveway and around to the back of the house. Damien turned to his daughter. “Still think there isn’t any fun to be had here?”

Matthew’s birthday was in July, so his parents had decided to hold the festivities outdoors and the vast grounds of their home had been transformed into a carnival with games, events, and rides.

“You two go have fun and I’ll see you later.” Damien hugged the children and then he went off to the tent where most of the men were drinking…

As the children made their way to the main tent, they noticed older teenagers putting zinc oxide on kids’ noses and handing out new hats.

“There must be two hundred kids here.” Alexander could feel his sister’s uncomfortableness with idea of having to interact with that many people.

Once all children were organized into teams, the birthday boy, who was hosting the events with his nanny, was given the task of picking team captains, with most of the choices going to his closest friends and nine-year-old brother Benjamin. Before he was done, he attempted to follow his father’s instructions and make both Thorn children captains; but Alexander, who recognized that their size and ages put them at a disadvantage, conceded so that they could be on the same team, where Delia would be in charge. After he and his sister chose Aaron Chambers, Alexander, who knew some of the kids, decided who would be on their team. Once team names had been pulled out of a hat, Delia and Alexander’s side was Team Hedgehog, the events got underway.

...666...

Nearly four hours later, and after much screaming, cheering, laughing, and crying, the final event of the day was taking place: a large obstacle course that had been cleverly devised. The course was divided in two, with each half hidden so that neither opponent could see the other. It had been decided that only the team captains would do the event and she and Benjamin Patterson were paired together as the second to last people to run the course. However, as Delia watched the children emerge, she noticed that the ones who had chosen the left-hand portion of the course generally finished first.

She grabbed her brother, making sure that Benjamin didn’t notice her leave, and she and Alexander ran until they got to the object that she wanted, a tree. “Climb up, look and tell me what you see.” The obstacle course was covered on all sides, but not on top.

Xander assessed the situation and then quickly shimmied down and the two of them ran back. “Pick the left side. The right side looks easy at first, but it’s more difficult in the middle.” They came back just as it was her turn.

The assistant running the event blew her whistle. “Captains to their starting positions.”

Delia took up her place on the left-hand side of the course, a decision which was met with a derisive laugh from Benjamin.

The teenaged assistant blew her whistle again, and they raced to their respective entrances.

Even from inside the obstacle course, she could hear cries of ‘Hedgehog! Hedgehog!’ and she knew it wasn’t only her team, but also the other children who were fed-up with Benjamin and his side, Team Anaconda, cheating. As she stumbled out, she knew she had won as all her screaming teammates came over to embrace her. When Benjamin finally emerged, he was red-faced and frustrated. Her reward for her effort was a remote-controlled helicopter, which she gave to her brother.

The last two captains completed the course, and it became official as Team Anaconda, which had been comprised of Benjamin and his older and larger friends, had managed to beat Team Hedgehog by only five points.

After the games, the original plan had been for the pair of them to eat with Damien, but the other members of the team wouldn’t hear of it, especially after one of the girls came back and said that the top three teams were getting trophies. They would all eat lunch together and commiserate over the fact that they would have come in first if it hadn’t been for Team Anaconda’s cheating. Everyone would go stow away their winnings and then meet up inside the dining tent.

However, the goings on of Team Hedgehog had not gone on unobserved. Benjamin Patterson had inherited his father’s dislike for losing, so after leaving his friends to stand guard, he came over to the Thorns, who had just decided that Delia should go get their father to help them bring all their stuff to the car. However, clutched in her brother’s hand was the helicopter. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to take it on the rides, so he wanted to hang on to it for as long as possible.

“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

Benjamin blocked the way in front of Delia not allowing her leave.

“Smarter than you.”

Her reply caused her brother to let out a snort of laughter.

Benjamin snatched the helicopter from Alexander, but quick as lightning, she grabbed it back.

However, before she could return it to her brother, the older boy smirked and then reached out with both hands and shoved Alexander, who staggered backwards on his heels until they hit something solid. His arms cartwheeled and he looked like he was trying to do the backstroke and then there was a clang: the sound of his head connecting with a pole, and he slid down. Red began trickling out of his mouth and onto his shirt and he put his hand up to his face, pulled his hand away and looked at it; Delia was suddenly awash in her brother’s fear and anger.

She had been looking at her brother, but she turned and faced Benjamin, who was laughing, but he stopped. It was as if they were connected and she somehow understood that she could now get the boy to do anything that she wanted him to do, but it was his life for which Delia yearned, to crush him until he was nothing and then...she pictured thick, long, luminous green constrictors wending their way around the boy, tightening around him as they made their way up his body...

...666...

Damien had spent the day in the tent watching sports, eating, and enjoying a beverage or two with the other men. Reports of his children’s deeds had come to him through the day, filling him with pride every time someone told him of how it was only Patterson’s son who was preventing them from being in first place. He knew that there was a possibility that the boy would cheat, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, but it would be a learning experience for his children...until they were old enough to take care of people, like Benjamin Patterson, who stood in their way.

He had taken a drink of his of beer when he felt his son’s surge in emotion, and he excused himself and made his way to where the last game was finishing up. He had no idea what could be making Xander that upset. Both of his children were pretty tough, and it generally took more than a skinned knee to get either of them this worked up and then...he could feel white-hot rage coming from Delia and his jog became a full-fledged sprint.

As he came running around the corner, he saw Alexander, who was sitting on the lawn, but fine, save for the blood on his shirt, and he understood that the boy now thrashing around at his daughter’s feet was the cause of the injury. However, even as Damien was reaching out for her, he was more than a little tempted to let her finish what she started, but instead, he grabbed his daughter and spun her around.

“Delia!” He shook her by the shoulders.

She blinked and looked around, as if she were unsure of where she was, but the sight of her brother with blood on his face quickly brought everything back. Delia wiggled out of her father’s grasp and pointed accusingly at the boy on the ground. “He pushed Alexander!”

Benjamin had recovered himself and someone had gone to get Glen Patterson, who was now striding across the lawn determined to find out what had happened to his son.

“Damien, Benjamin cheated in the games, but I still won this fair and square.” Delia had not let go of the helicopter and held it up. “He got mad and grabbed it from Alexander and I took it back…then he shoved my brother,” her voice was like ice, and she was now addressing herself to Matthew and Benjamin’s father.

Damien had stepped in to take care of things, so she went to her brother, who was still sitting. She knelt and put her hand inside the bottom of her t-shirt, reached up and wiped the drying blood from her brother’s face. “Are you okay, Nander?”

“Yes, Deedle.”

They said each other’s name quietly and if they had been at home, they would have put their foreheads together for comfort, but that was something private, so instead, they were silent and Delia felt calmly at him until he was ready, and then he held out his hand and she helped him up. The two of them went over to their father, who was talking to Glen, who was being profusely apologetic about the incident.

Damien was saying that he understood about what had happened...it was kids being kids, but inside, she could feel something different: pride, rage, love, all swirled inside of her father, but how she was feeling what he was feeling, she didn’t know.

Benjamin was now holding out his hand to Alexander, who looked at it and then turned to her and after a pause, Delia nodded, then he reached out and took the other boy’s hand and shook it.

Assuming all was forgiven, Glen returned to the group of men with whom he had been drinking. Alexander pulled his hand away from Benjamin’s and then Delia held out the helicopter to the boy. “Do you want this?”

Benjamin, who took her gesture to be one of her understanding her place and showing regret about beating him, held out his hand ready to receive his belated prize; Damien Thorn’s daughter had other plans.

She let the helicopter fall; it hit the ground and bounced once, but she wasn’t done. She lifted her foot and brought it down with a resounding stomp, turning the expensive toy into junk. Benjamin, who was not used to being treated in such a manner, looked at the Thorn children.

“I think your helicopter is broken,” the tone of Alexander’s voice was dark, unlike his usual happy-go-lucky self.

Delia giggled, taking no small amount of glee in Benjamin’s defeat, as the boy turned around and slunk off towards the house.

Damien let a smile briefly sit on his lips and then bent down and examined his son. “It’s okay, Xander, you just bit your lip.” However, he knew that if Alexander was anyone else but his son, he might be suggesting a trip to the hospital.

“He hit his head. What if he has a concussion?” Delia looked at her father.

He could feel her fear and concern but shook his head. “He doesn’t have a concussion; do you feel dizzy or nauseated?”

“No, I’m okay, mostly, I’m hungry.”

Everyone gathered up the booty and Damien led the way to the car. “You can both eat when we get home.” He continued on but stopped when he realized that the children weren’t following. When he turned around, they were both rooted to the spot, their disappointment palpable. He walked back to them. “You don’t want to leave?” He looked from one to the other.

“The only reason stupid Team Anaconda won was that they cheated; we’re the ones who really won. We have a trophy coming to us and we want it.”

That his son wasn’t keen on leaving was understandable; Alexander tended to slough off most problems like the proverbial water off a duck’s back; it was his daughter’s refusal that was the surprise. She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but now it would take a direct order from either him or the Pattersons for her to leave. “Delia, you don’t want to go home?”

“I’m the captain, I helped Team Hedgehog win. They’re going to give out the trophy, but I won’t be there?” Delia could only shake her head. “If we leave now, Benjamin will think he won and that he hurt us. You always say Thorns don’t give up; leaving is giving up.” She moved closer to him and lowered her voice, “I won’t get mad again, I swear.” She crossed her heart for good measure. “Please, father, as long as the Pattersons don’t make us leave, please let us stay.”

It didn’t take long for word about the incident to spread that Benjamin had hurt Alexander and the second Mrs. Patterson heard about it, she came out and insisted that the Thorns stay. Someone went and got their driver and they brought Delia and Alexander’s stuff to the car. Damien retrieved clean shirts for his children from a duffel bag in the trunk, which they quickly exchanged for their bloodied ones.

Mrs. Patterson then brought them into the house, taking them first to the kitchen so that Alexander could rinse out his mouth with warm saltwater. Next, after Damien was handed a washcloth and some ibuprofen, they went into the downstairs bathrooms and he helped Alexander wash the blood of his face. Damien handed his son a small paper cup filled with water, and he took the medication.

“Better?”

Alexander crushed the cup and threw it in the garbage and then belched, “yep.”

Damien put his fingers under his children’s chins and lifted up their faces, so they were looking at him. “I’ve never been prouder of both of you than I am right now. Xander, you especially have every reason to walk away and there wouldn’t be anybody who would blame you, but you’re sticking it out.”

“Thorns don’t give up.”

Alexander had responded and Delia backed him up with a curt nod of her head.

“Trust me, there are those who have us do just that.” Damien kissed both of their foreheads.

Everyone had needed to use the bathroom, and each did so in private and then Damien led the children out to the tent where the children were being fed, and when the other members of their team saw Alexander, they applauded and whistled and the chant of “Hedgehog! Hedgehog!” issued forth from the table in the far-right corner of the tent.

Enormous quantities of food were consumed, including birthday cake, and before the kids went off to enjoy the rides, where the birthday boy and his chosen companions would get first crack at them, the awards were handed out. Everyone received participation ribbons and the captain of the third-placed Team Aardvark went up to accept the team’s trophy and paused while the photographer took his picture and then sat down again.

When the announcer called for Team Hedgehog to come up, Delia, who had learned a thing or two from her father about managing people, insisted that the whole team come up with her to accept the award. Everyone had their hand on the trophy while their picture was taken, though Delia did get a shot of her holding the nice-sized trophy on her own.

The announcer called for Team Anaconda to claim their prize, but no one stepped forward to accept the dubious honor.

Delia gave her father the trophy to put in the car, the others agreed that Alexander’s confrontation with Benjamin had earned him the right to have it first, and she could feel a surge of pride emanating from Damien, but she didn’t want to think about that for right now and took off after her brother and the other members of their team to enjoy the rides.

...666...

It was nearly eight o’clock when the party ended. Most of the other children had decided that Delia was okay. A little quiet perhaps, but she was not as off-putting as they had first thought. They knew that it had been her strategizing, along with Alexander keeping his teammates in good spirits, that had allowed them to nearly beat Team Anaconda. Everyone promised to get together again and with that, Damien loaded his kids into the car, and they left.

Once on the way home, Delia turned her attention to trying to make sense of everything that had happened, starting with how she had felt what her father had felt. She knew that she and Alexander could feel things that the other felt, but they were twins. Not only that, but she was trying to work out the things she had felt, which had been mostly pride and rage. Damien was somehow proud of what had happened, the fact that she had won the helicopter seemed unlikely, so she could only guess that it had something to do with what she had done to Benjamin, and how she had done that, she didn’t know.

She also knew that her father had been furious, as mad as she herself had been. Delia looked at him...mad enough to have had her finish what she had wanted to do, kill Benjamin. She tuned into the conversation that Alexander was having with their father, but instead of listening to what was being said, she paid attention to what her father was feeling.

Damien was getting Alexander’s rundown of the day, which had resulted in her brother laughing when he retold, complete with sound effects, his sister crushing the helicopter.

“D-man, what happened to Delia?”

“What do you mean?”

“She was looking at Benjamin and then he started having a fit. Did she do that to him?”

Alexander looked over at his sister and then back at his father.

“That’s a topic for a later time, thank you.”

Delia could feel her father’s anxiety; whatever she had done was serious, but Damien didn’t want to talk about it. She never wanted to get that mad again...well, not where people could see her get that mad, anyway. She let a tiny smile sit on the corners of her mouth remembering Benjamin looking like a fish that someone had taken out of the water and left on the ground to flop in the sun.

It was after nine by the time the Thorns finally arrived home. Cecile had stayed and had prepared dinner, but everyone was too full of lunch to eat anything. The toys were left downstairs, only their trophy made it up to Alexander’s bedroom, where it sat on his desk until a better place could be found for it.

Damien turned on the showers in the kids’ rooms and after making sure that the water wasn’t too hot, left them alone to clean-up.

Once she was dry, Delia put on her pajamas, grabbed her pillows, and went into her brother’s room. After all the interaction with the other children, she just wanted to spend time with her family. However, before she could get into bed, Damien stopped her.

“Why isn’t Deedle coming to bed?”

“Because I want to speak with her first.”

However, before Damien could get out of the room, Alexander leaped out of bed and headed them off, having a good idea what the topic of the conversation might be. “Father, please don’t punish her. She won the helicopter and Benjamin tried to take it. Whatever she did, she didn’t do anything wrong. She smashed the toy, so what? He hurt me, he deserved it.”

“I have no intention of punishing Delia; I just want to speak with her.”

“Really?” 

“Yes, I’ll bring your sister back, I promise.” Damien smiled at his son.

“I’ll wait for you, Deedle.”

“Okay.”

She accompanied Damien into his room, and he closed the door behind them. She climbed up onto her father’s bed and waited for him to start the conversation.

He pulled up at chair and sat in front of his daughter. “Tell me what happened with Benjamin.” 

She took a deep breath. “I got mad. That idiot pushed Alexander and when I saw his blood, I wanted to…” she stopped, fearing that what she said next would land her in trouble.

“What did you want to do to him?” Damien watched as she shook her head. “How many times have I told you that you can tell me anything?” However, she remained silent and now had lowered her eyes.

“Delia, please look at me.” Damien’s voice wasn’t harsh, but she still could not meet his gaze. “Did you want to kill him?”

“Yes.”

She hid her face in her hands and he could feel her relief at the admittance of what she had wanted to do to Benjamin Patterson. Damien reached over, lifted her up, and put her on his lap; she buried her face in his shoulder. She wasn’t crying, she wasn’t sad, she wasn’t sorry for what she had wanted to do, but it was a big admission for a small girl.

He understood all too well what she had been feeling. Damien had unknowingly unleashed his fury for the first time on an equally moronic twat who had been pounding the crap out of his cousin, but he had been thirteen at the time. He was anxious again and didn’t know what he would do if Delia pressed him about what had happened; he still wasn’t ready for this from one of his children.

Eventually, she removed her head from Damien’s shoulder. “Am I in trouble?”

“Deedle, I said no, and I meant it. You were protecting your brother, just as Xander was protecting you just now. I like that, but I want you to promise me that if anything like that ever happens again, you will let me handle it, okay?”  

She yawned. “I’m pooped, I wanna go to bed.” She took her father’s hand and they returned to Alexander’s bedroom, where he had managed to stay awake until his sister had returned. They got into bed but didn’t lay down. Their dogs wandered in and curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“So, I think there were some valuable lessons learned today.”  He turned to his daughter.

She sighed, “Yes, I was wrong, I had fun. Next time I won’t be so quick to judge something before I’ve done it. Happy?” Delia playfully stuck out her tongue at Damien.

“A little less sass, please, but very good, grasshopper; did you like doing those activities?”

“I especially liked being in charge!”

“I’m glad. I’d hate to leave the family business to someone who didn’t want to be in charge. You know, Deedle, sports are good for the body and mind. I played sports when I was younger. You were a good captain today and you made some...acquaintances. I’d like to see you keep up those acquaintances. Doesn’t mean that they’re your friends, and it doesn’t mean that you have to see them every day, but I’d like to see you get involved in some things that will keep you sociable. You already know those children, so that makes it easier. See if they do anything in which you might be interested. Let me know and if it’s some kind of formal activity, I’ll see about getting you joined up, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And now on to the hero of the day, good job, Alexander.”

Both Delia and Damien applauded for him, and he bowed while sitting up.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little sore, but I’m good.” His gaze went to the trophy, and he grinned.

“I agree.” Damien jutted out his chin in the direction of the desk “That there is bound to take the edge off any pain you might be feeling. And we Thorns are fast healers. I’ll bet by tomorrow it’ll be like you we’re never even hurt. I really am proud of the both of you.” Damien hugged and kissed both of them, but their tiredness was beginning to rub off on him, making him more exhausted than he already was.

“Okay, I’m officially calling it a day so under the covers.” He got up and closed the blinds and the curtains. “I’ll see you both at breakfast tomorrow where I expect you both should be ravenous enough to eat me out of house and home.” He shut off the light. “And Delia, no more making like Godzilla and crushing helicopters.” 

She frowned. “What’s Godzilla?” 

He laughed. “What a negligent father I’ve been in ignoring yours and your brother’s monster movie education. I’m going to have to sit both of you down and show you one of the masterpieces of Japanese cinema. I love you both and I’ll see you in the morning.” 

I love yous and goodnights followed Damien out of the room as he closed the door behind him.

“What did Damien ask you?”

“He wanted to know what happened with Benjamin. How are you?”

“I’m okay. I feel better than I did.” Alexander paused. “Did you do something to Benjamin?”

“I don’t know…maybe.”

“I was scared. You didn’t answer me when I called you.” 

Delia hadn’t even realized that Alexander had been talking to her while she had been hurting Benjamin. “I’m sorry I frightened you.” She reached out and touched his lip, which was a little puffy.

“I don’t care if you hurt him. If he shoved you, I would have hurt him, too.” Sensing that they were treading into territory best left unexplored for now, he gave his sister a wicked smile. “Look at me, I’m Benjamin.” Alexander started flopping around, doing a fairly good impression of the boy when he had been under his sister’s thrall.

Delia started laughing. “Benjamin’s a dweeb.” 

“Benjamin’s a dork.”

“Benjamin’s a shithead.”

Both of them giggled, still getting used to their newly acquired, albeit limited, swearing vocabulary. Silence descended on the room and the two of them put their foreheads together.

“I love you, Nander, always and forever.”

“I love you, Deedle, forever and always.”  They stayed like that for a while and then Alexander opened his eyes. “Hey, Delia, do you want to know something?”

“No!” Her eyes sprang open.

There was no sound, but the smell of his fart hit her, and she made a face. Alexander started laughing, but as quickly as Delia had snatched the helicopter from Benjamin, she pulled the comforter over her brother’s head, trapping him with the stench of his own noxious gas and climbed on top of him for good measure.

“I can’t breathe.”

But Alexander was laughing as he was saying it. “You should have thought of that first. How do you like your fart now, Xandman?” She kept him there until she thought that the smell had dissipated and then got off him.

Alexander’s face was red when he emerged from under the blanket, and he looked at the trophy. “I’m going to quit while I’m still ahead, bonne nuit.” He barricaded himself back under the blanket.

“Buenas noches.” She waited and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

Delia hiked her blanket up to her chin. She had wanted to ask her father about what she had done to Benjamin, but she had felt his fear and decided to let it go. She knew that she had made the right decision because he was relieved when she had insisted on going to bed. Damien told them things when he thought that they were ready to hear them, and she trusted her father in everything; she would trust him to tell her about this when he felt that the time was right. Delia could no longer stay awake, and she rolled over onto her right side, closed her eyes and shortly fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Damien sat bolt upright in bed; Delia had been screaming for him, but as he sat, there was now only silence. But something was wrong, even his dog could feel it as he sat at the door nudging the doorknob with this massive head. Then, he could feel stark and potent terror from his daughter and realized that she must have had a nightmare and called for him in her head.

He made his way from his room to hers, and no sooner did he open her door, then her dog fell out into the hall. He began whining and led the master of the house into the room and then jumped up onto the bed and lay beside Delia, who was sitting up. The dog had not barked, and he wondered if she had ordered him to keep silent.

At some point during the night, Alexander had ended up in his sister’s room and was now a familiar lump under the covers, perhaps answering the question as to why she had not called a loud for him. Damien didn’t need much light by which to see and as he came over to the bed and sat, he could tell that she was shaking and crying.

 “Deedle?” 

But it was as if she could not hear him. He reached out and touched her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She turned her head towards him he nodded to indicate that she was not imagining him.

“Daddy?”

Her voice quaked and even before he could respond, she burst into tears. Loud, heavy sobs racked her body, and she threw her arms around him.

If choosing to remain quiet had been a decision made in order to not wake up her brother, the mission had now failed as her crying roused him awake. He sat up, moving closer to her.

“What’s wrong with Delia?”

“She’s fine. She’s just had a bad dream; but I’m here and everything’s okay.” 

“I’m here, too.” Xander looked up at his father, letting him know that he could be counted on for whatever his sister might need.

“Thank you, she’ll appreciate that.” He smiled at son, who was holding his sister’s foot since her arms were wrapped around his neck.

While Damien could feel panic, terror, and grief, he needed to find out exactly what was troubling her. He had never taken lightly invading his children’s privacy. He wanted to set a precedent and show Delia and Alexander that the family boundaries were to be respected, not to mention that at the age of nine, any sudden intrusion on his part would raise questions as to how he was doing what he was doing. However, she was upset, more so than he could remember in a long time, and he needed to find out what had caused her this much grief. He gently let his mind search hers and he flinched as he found the source of her distress.

Images flashed in her mind. It was rare to have such clarity so long after the event, usually by now there would be only feelings for him to work with but not now. Inside his daughter’s mind swirled images of Kate, DeCarlo, Peter, and weaving a path of destruction throughout the tableau was a thick, black ribbon representing the nazarene.

Her nightmare had been his near death at the Fountains Abbey nearly ten years ago. But nightmare was the wrong word...vision more aptly described what he could both see and feel, for Damien could feel their oppression. He was tempted to pull away, but instead, with great control on his part, he felt calmly at her. As he held his daughter, the images began to evaporate, but the presence of the nazarene hung on the longest. He sent his strength to her and eventually even the black ribbon disappeared.

She had stopped crying and she drew in a ragged breath and loudly exhaled. Damien reached over and pulled tissues from the box on her bedside table and got her to blow her nose. She rested her head against him and after a few more labored breaths, she was fine, and he could feel her tiredness. He let go of her and stood up, but as she looked up at him, he could feel fear beginning to worm its way back into her as she sat and struggled to control herself, but exhaustion and the late hour were winning against her attempts to keep her fear at bay.

“Do you want to come sleep with me?” She nodded and he could feel relief.

He held out his hand and she took it and then realized that Alexander was hanging on to Delia’s hand: wherever his sister was going, he was going too. “Okay, it’s everybody in Damien’s bed.” 

However, the statement did not lead to the usual riot of clambering onto their father’s king-size bed. Instead, a solemn train of tired children accompanied their father back to his bedroom, including Delia’s dog, who sat keeping an eye on the goings on. He sent his dog out into the hall, one Milo in the room was plenty, and Delia got into bed first and lay in the middle between her brother and her father.

Alexander looked down at her. “Goodnight, Deedledork.”

Despite the terror that had roused Delia, Xander had as usual managed to elicit a good mood from her. She smiled and teasingly stuck her tongue at him and apparently satisfied with his sister’s change of mood, he lay down, pulled the covers up over his head and fell asleep.

Damien put his arm around her, and she curled up next to him and again he gently felt calmness inside of her head and he watched as her face went slack and she was asleep.

Delia had always suspected that there was something…off about herself. That she was different, as were her brother and father, from other people. That was especially true after what she had done to Benjamin Patterson two years ago, and while she had given up asking about what she had done, he knew that she was still curious.

He watched his daughter sleep and suddenly he could feel his Father and knew that he had been right...the dream was no dream but had been a vision sent to her. If this had happened to her before, but she had kept it to herself, tonight Satan had insured that would no longer be the case.

Damien had hoped that this moment was still a few years away. He had only begun to feel differently when he had been thirteen and his understanding about his true nature had come after help from Paul Buher and Daniel Neff. Delia was only nine and so much of what he had to tell her was disturbing.

He had been tired, but now he knew there would be little, if any, sleep tonight. He would keep her home from school today and the two of them would have a talk and Damien would try, as best he could, to explain to Delia that she was the daughter of the Antichrist, Satan’s grandchild, part jackal and, in fact, not a human being at all.

...666...

Damien had fallen asleep just before five in the morning and his eyelids felt glued together as he reached over and shut off the alarm. He rolled over and there was Alexander staring down at his sister.

“Morning pater. Is Deedle okay now?”   

“Good morning and yes, she’s fine. But your sister will be staying home from school today with me.”

“May I stay home as well?” He raised a hopeful eyebrow at his father.

“No, because you’re going to bring home her work so she can do it tonight.” 

“Okay.” He didn’t bother hiding his disappointment as he got out of bed and went into his room to get ready for school.

Damien took a shower and dressed in the bathroom and when he came out, Delia was still sleeping. Her dog looked up at him and once given permission, jumped up on the bed and curled up next to his mistress.

Now dressed, Xander came back to Damien’s room and the two of them headed downstairs for breakfast. Cecile set a plate in front of Alexander, and he began to devour the contents. Damien would wait to eat with Delia.

“I know that when I’m home, I usually take you to school, but Tom will drive you this morning.”

Alexander shrugged. “It’s okay, Delia doesn’t want to be alone, so I’ll let it go. But don’t let it happen again.” He pretended to glare menacingly at Damien.

“What a generous son I have.” 

“Yep, that’s me, generous to a fault.” He continued eating, taking seconds of everything once he was done his first plate of food.

Eventually, Alexander was finished and said goodbye to Cecile. The school the children attended provided their students with snacks and a lunch and before Damien had sent them to Briarwood Academy, he had made sure that the food was good enough to be given to his children, a fact that he had had to share with Cecile, more than once, before she had stopped insisting that Delia and Alexander bring food from home.

Damien led his son outside to Tom, who opened the back door of the car for him.

“Will you please tell Deedle that I love her and that I want her to feel better?”

Alexander could be counted on to have a smart-ass comment for nearly any occasion, but where the well-being of his family was concerned, he was usually willing to stow the funny guy routine for a few minutes.

Damien bent down so that he was eye level with his son. “Of course, and you have a good day at school. I will call and tell them Delia won’t be coming in today and that her very thoughtful brother will be getting her homework so she can do it here.” Damien hugged and kissed his son. “I love you.” 

“Right back at ya, D-man.” Alexander winked at Damien and made a gun with his right hand and fired it at his father, pretending he was too cool for all this touchy-feely nonsense. He got into the back seat and did up his seat belt. After Tom made sure that he was properly buckled up, he closed the door, got behind the wheel and began to drive away and moments later, the car disappeared down the driveway of the Thorn estate.

Damien wanted privacy for the pair of them. Luckily, today was not one of the days for the cleaners or anyone else to come, so once back inside, he headed for the kitchen.

“Cecile, you can have the rest of the day off. Delia isn’t feeling well, so I’ll stay home to take care of her.”

“Mr. Thorn, are you sure? I don’t mind staying...what about dinner?”

“The children and I will go out to eat or have something delivered if Delia still isn’t well. Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to take a day off of work.”

“Okay.”

She went to the closet to get her coat, and Damien helped her on with it and saw her to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then. S’il vous plaît dites Sweetpea à se sentir mieux bientôt.” 

“Bien sûr, au revoir, Cécile.” He closed and locked the door behind her; father and daughter would now have the house to themselves.

Damien went into the study and called the school to inform them of Delia’s absence, a first for one of the Thorn children, and then called work and spoke to Paul and told him to handle things for today, but to call if there was some kind of an emergency. He went back upstairs to his room, grabbed a book, and sat down on a chair and read, every once and a while casting his eyes over to the bed.

Delia began to stir and at nine-fifteen she sat up, her dog jumping down from the bed when he came over to sit beside her.

 “How are you this morning, Junior?” 

“Okay...did Xander go to school without me?” She frowned.

“Yes, you are staying home with me today. Both he and Cecile wish you a speedy recovery and your brother also sends his love.” 

“But I feel fine now.”

“I know, but we need to talk about some things and what I have to say requires privacy, but that can wait. For right now, let’s go have breakfast.” The two of them headed downstairs with Delia’s dog trailing behind them.

However, once they got to the kitchen, she looked around, a confused expression on her face.

“Where’s Cecile?” 

“Cecile no está aquí, así que es sólo tú y yo hoy.”

“Really!?”

“Deedle, you make it sound as if we never spend any time together.”

“Well, you, me and Xander spend time together, but not just you and me, or not just you and Alexander.” 

“Really?”

Now it was Damien’s turn to sound surprised. He made sure to spend time with both of his children, but with so much of his day being take up by work, it was hard to be with them individually. However, if everything with Delia went the way that he wanted, he would be spending much more time with her. “Well, hopefully this will be the first of many quality father/daughter bonding days. Go wash your hands, please, so we can eat; I’m starving.”

Delia went to the bathroom and when she returned, Damien was putting her plate on the table. She disliked most breakfast food, so her plate contained generous amounts of bacon, toast and fruit salad and he had added a small container of strawberry yogurt.

As she ate, her occasionally hand disappeared under the table giving pieces of bacon to her dog and once she was done, she brought her plate to the kitchen, rinsed it, and put it in the dishwasher. “I’m going to do take a shower and get dressed.”

“Okay, but when you come back down, we are going to have a talk about last night and about some other things, yes?”

“Yes.” Delia took off running up the stairs.

“I’ll be in the study,” Damien called up to her and all three dogs followed him into the room. He cleared off his desk and sat on the leather couch and waited for her to come back down. Each passing moment made his anxiety grow, but he stuffed it back down. She could feel what he felt and being anxious wasn’t going to help him with anything that had to be discussed.

Once she made it back downstairs, she cartwheeled into the study.

“Ta-da!” 

Damien applauded and came to the door. “The American judge gives it a perfect score, but the judge from Russia only gives it a six.”

“Damn that Russian judge. Now I’ll never get to the Olympics.”

Years of socializing with her brother had given her a sense of humor she might not have otherwise had.

“We can talk in here, or in my room, or yours.”

“In here, please. This is where you talk about important business.”

“In here it is.”

Delia went to sit in the chair across from his desk, but Damien stopped her and sat in it instead. “If you want, you can sit in that chair.”

She gleefully grinned at her father, sat behind Damien’s desk, and did what any reasonable child would have done: spun around in the chair, but she stopped and looked at him.

“You’re so far away.”

She got up and came back over to Damien, who got up, picked her up and sat her on the desk.

“Better?” 

“Better.” She sat cross-legged on her father’s desk.

He sat back down. “I am going to ask you something and I want the truth. Have you woken up like how you woke up last night, only I didn’t come to see if you were okay?”

She nodded.

“You didn’t want to bother me, or wake up your brother; am I correct in assuming that?” 

She nodded again.

“Delia, when you are that scared, to wake me up is not bothering me. If that happens again and your brother is sleeping with you and you don’t want to wake him up, you can come to my room. What happened last night? That will never happen again, okay?”

She nodded for the third time.

“Do you remember calling for me a loud last night?”

“No.” She paused. “How did you know to come into my room?”

“You know how you say that you feel different from other people. That when you look at me or your brother, you feel something different than when you look at other people?”

“Yes.” 

Damien began to monitor Delia’s emotional state. “And I tell you that it’s because you’re very smart?” 

“Yes, but that’s not the reason, is it?” 

“No.” 

“I’m not like other girls, am I?” 

“No, Deedle, you’re not.” Damien could feel relief, as if the whole time she had thought that there was something wrong with her. “Before we go on, I know that sometimes I tell you something and tell you not to tell your brother, but you go ahead and tell him anyway. This time I am being serious; you cannot tell Alexander about our conversation.”

“Why?” 

“You’re both very smart, but you understand things that he doesn’t. At least not yet anyway. He hasn’t come to me and told me that he feels different from other people. I’ve tried to ask him, but he doesn’t get it, he’s not ready to hear what I have to say to you, but know that what applies to you, applies to him: he’s not like other boys.”   

“If I promise not to tell him, will you tell me the truth?”

“As much as I can. There are some things that you are too young to know, or that I just can’t tell you yet, but I will tell you what I can and do so in a way that you can understand, okay?” 

“Then we have to shake on it.” She got down off the desk and stood in front of him and then held up her right hand. “I promise that I will never, ever tell Xander what you tell me until you say that it’s okay to tell him.” She spat into her hand, but left it turned up so that the spit didn’t run out onto the floor. “Now, it’s your turn.”

Damien stood. “I promise to tell Delia the truth, as much as I can, and in a way that she’ll understand.” He looked at her and she nodded. He spat into his hand, and they clamped hands like old business partners who had worked out a fine arrangement and one big pump between the two of them had sealed the deal.

Delia removed her hand and wiped it on her pants. He said nothing, as it appeared to be a part of the ritual, no doubt performed dozens of times between her and Xander. He reached over onto the desk and pulled some tissues from the box, wiped the spit off his hand, and sat back down again.

She got back up on the desk, sat, and waited for her father to continue.

“Tell me about what woke you up last night.”

“I had a nightmare about two bad people and one I don’t know.” 

“And you’ve had this dream before?”  

“Yes.” 

“When did it start?” 

Delia thought about it. “Less than a year, maybe nine months ago.” 

He did not bother mentioning that she should have come to him sooner; he was sure he had driven home that message that she was not keep things like that to herself anymore. “Describe the people.” 

“One man was a priest, the other was a woman, oh, and there was a boy.” 

“And the other?” 

“I don’t know. Not a person, like a…ghost, but it wanted to hurt you, too. But it wasn’t like a normal dream. I was watching you and you were in a church.”

“Describe the presence.”

“It made me feel sick, like I wanted to throw up. I felt like something was…compressing me. I didn’t like it, whatever it was, it felt bad.” 

Rage moved through Damien, but he quickly stamped it out. She would not understand the sudden burst of anger and he didn’t want her to think that he was mad at her. They had tried to kill him, but now their vileness had touched one of his children. “Tell me what you saw.”    

“You go into the church…the priest is hiding, holding a knife…the woman walks past him. Then you come down the stairs. The priest comes out, he’s going to stab you, but you pick up the boy and push him onto the knife. You start to choke the priest, but then you walk away from him. The woman goes to the boy, and holds him and then looks back at you, picks up the knife and she goes after you. You go through the church. You’re looking for something. Eventually, the woman sneaks up behind you and stabs you. You stagger forward, then stop, but then you collapse.”

She had not clued into the fact that the woman that she had seen was her mother. Over the years, Damien had put away the few pictures of Kate that had been out on display until none remained, and there had never been any pictures of Peter anywhere.

He could feel fresh grief spring anew in his daughter.

“Daddy, you died and when I woke up, I was scared. I didn’t want to call for you because what if you didn’t come? That would mean that you had died for real.”

She began heavily sobbing, like she had last night. Damien picked her up off the desk put her on his lap. He smoothed her hair and held her tightly to him. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.”

She pulled away and looked at him. “You promised to tell me the truth.” 

“Yes.”

“That really happened, didn’t it? It’s not just something that I made up in my own head. Those people tried to kill you, didn’t they?” She wiped the tears from her eyes with her arm and now anger filled Delia, incensed that someone, or in this case someones, had tried to kill her father.

“Yes.” 

She hugged him, as if she could take away what those people had tried to do to him.

“Then, I need to ask you something. Yes, that happened, and I know how you saw it and today, you will come to understand why and how you had that dream. I killed that boy; I killed him so that I could live. I need to know how you feel about that.”

She frowned at him. “You’re not like them either and you did it to protect yourself. You’d be dead right now and Alexander and I wouldn’t be here.” 

Damien didn’t correct her just yet in regard to their conception.

“Do you remember Matthew’s birthday party?” 

He nodded. “Yes, of course.” 

“When his stupid piece of crap brother Benjamin pushed Alexander and he hit his head and I saw his blood…I’ve never been that angry before, or since. I wanted to kill Benjamin.” Delia paused. “I tried to, didn’t I?” 

“Yes.”    

“How?” 

“We’ll get to that eventually. Is there anything else?”  

“When Alexander and I came back to you, Glen was trying to get Benjamin to apologize, I could feel you. I feel you sometimes, but Alexander mostly; when he’s happy or sad, I feel happy or sad and the other way around. But that day, I could feel you. A lot. You were lying to Mr. Patterson, not exactly lying, but inside you were proud of me, happy that I had hurt Benjamin for hurting your son. Part of you wanted me to kill him; to teach his father a lesson about hurting your children. You saw Alexander’s blood and you were furious too. If I had been alone with Benjamin and nobody else had been there, and I had killed him you wouldn’t have cared.

“The truth? No, I wouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now. I don’t want anyone to hurt you, me, or Xander. I don’t care that you killed somebody. Daddy, you killed that boy so that you could live. If anyone tried to kill any of us, I’d kill them, just like I tried to do with Benjamin. Does that make me bad?”     

“No.” He kissed the top of her head.

“We’re different. Did those people try to kill you because you’re different?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“This is the hard part, Delia, okay?”

And now knowing that she wasn’t crazy for being able to feel what her father and brother felt, he could feel her reach out to him.

“It won’t be difficult.”

Despite how he was feeling, he smiled at his daughter’s attempts to make him feel better. “What do you know about god?” 

“Jesus’ father?” 

“Yes.” 

“He’s supposed to live in Heaven.”    

“And what do you know about their christ?” 

“We celebrate his birth at Christmas; but I like Christmas better because it’s my and Alexander’s birthday. But Jesus was born two thousand years ago. What does he have to do with what happened to you?”   

“Would you believe me if I told you that the presence that you felt in the dream, that was the nazarene…their christ?”

She looked at her father. “God is real?” 

“Oh, very much so.” 

“But Jesus is supposed to love everyone. Why would he want to hurt you?” 

“Because I don’t believe in the same god as he does.”

“So, Jesus came back?” 

“No, he was only pretending to come back.” 

She made a face. “Why did he do that?”

Damien could tell that she was starting to get frustrated. None of this was making any sense to her and he was being far too cryptic for her liking.

“So that he could kill me.” 

“Why did Jesus want to kill you?” 

Damien went quiet for a moment. “What do you know about the Devil?” 

Chapter Text

“Satan?”

“Yes.” 

“The Devil lives in Hell and punishes the bad people that God sends there, which doesn’t make sense to me. He’s supposed to be evil, but…” Delia frowned and got down of his lap and stood in front of him.

“But what?”

“Well, last month, Mrs. Travers had us read from book nine of Paradise Lost, you know, where Satan tempts Eve into eating the fruit from the tree of knowledge and then gets Adam to eat, too? Steve Paret said that girls were evil because Eve listened to Satan, but I said that meant that girls were smart and that boys were stupid. Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, you haven’t hurt my feelings. Go on.” 

“Steve said that we would all still be living in Eden if Eve hadn’t eaten the fruit, but all they did was work, and not real work, not important work like being doctors or parents and they didn’t do anything fun. They didn’t even have a dog. Xander and I both agreed that that sounded boring.” 

“Is that so?” Damien couldn’t help but smile at his daughter’s notion that Eden would have been dull without dogs.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to live there, not really doing anything, being stupid, not having fun, not having the Milos. Eve wanted to know things. Why was God the only person who could know things? So, Eve was smart and listened to Satan, and then told Adam to eat the fruit. Then God kicked them out of their home…after he made them ashamed of being naked. I said if that’s what happened, then God wasn’t a very good father and Alexander agreed.

“Xander said that Satan was like Prometheus because he had taken something from God to give to humans. Some of the kids in the class didn’t talk to us for the rest of the day; they thought we were weird. Then Mrs. Travers explained the concept of the Felix Culpa that it was good that people had sinned because then Jesus had to be born to save the world. And that really happened?”

“Give or take. You know that god created a son on Earth.” 

“Yes...Jesus.” 

“What if Satan created a son on Earth, too?” 

“You mean he was born instead of Jesus only pretending to be born?” 

“No, he was born forty-one years ago.” He knew Delia was frustrated, there was too much beating around the bush for her, but the conversation was about to come to a head.

“How come people don’t know about Satan’s son?” 

“Some people do, but no, not in the same way that people know about their god and his son.

Damien felt his anxiety soar, but he took a deep breath and looked his daughter in the eyes. “Delia, I am born of the Devil, Satan’s only begotten son; born so that humanity need not endure another millennium of rule at the hands of their god and his son.” 

She was silent for a while, but Damien didn’t press her.

“Isn’t there another way we can do this?”

“What do you mean?” 

“First, you say that there really is a God, and then the Devil is real and then that what happened in the Garden of Eden is real and that you are Satan’s son.” She shook her head. “It’s too complicated. I can feel what you feel. Can’t I read your mind or something and just know about everything?”

“It doesn’t work that way, exactly. I can think images into your head, or simple words and ideas. I can’t explain difficult concepts like this.”

“How did you learn about it? Did Satan think everything into your head?”

“Short answer for right now is yes, but that would be too much for you, as it almost was for me, but my Father had no other choice, and I told you I can’t tell you everything today. Delia, you did not try to kill Benjamin because you are bad. We can kill someone by taking over that person’s mind and that’s what you did, you were using your God given ability to protect yourself and your brother. You were nearly seven and you couldn’t help yourself, and we have been working on your temper since then so that it doesn’t get the better of you.”

“Do you have a mother?”

“I had a mother, but she wasn’t human; she was a jackal.”

Delia stared at him and then went over to one of the bookshelves and pulled out the “JK” volume of the encyclopedia. She flipped through the book until she found the entry on jackals and read for a bit and then returned to her father, cocking her left eyebrow at him. “Damien, are you trying to take the mickey?” 

He laughed. “No, Deedle, no mickey taking. Satan’s spirit possessed a male jackal and then he mated with a female to make me.” 

“Can he come here now?” She looked around the study trying to find an ideal spot where Satan could make an appearance.

“No, it’s not like that. Think of him more like the presence that you felt in the dream. That was their spirit that you felt. It’s very difficult for Satan to directly manifest His physical presence in this plane of existence, as it is for their god.”

Delia looked at the pictures in the encyclopedia again, shook her head, and then looked back up at him. “But you look like a person.” 

“You look like a person too, but you’re not; neither is Alexander. The next time we’re at one of the labs, I’ll show you your blood under a microscope. You know that when babies are made, each parent contributes half the genetic material. However, when you and your brother were conceived, all your genetic material came from me, and therefore Satan. My blood cells, however, are that of a jackal’s, as are yours and Alexander’s.

“We’re the same?”

“Exactly the same.” Damien could feel Delia’s joy at her discovery that she was closer to her father than she had ever suspected.

“We’re not exactly the same.”

“Gender difference aside, smarty pants.”  

“Why a jackal? Why not a person?” 

“In their bible, jackals represent isolation and loneliness. In African folklore, the jackal takes on the role of the trickster, like crows and coyotes in Native American tales. There’s Anubis, the jackal-headed Egyptian God of the Dead. Also…how well do you think people can relate to a so-called god who only has to think about getting someone pregnant and it happens?”

“Not very.”

“Even babies conceived in test tubes need a sperm and an egg and while sexual intercourse may not have happened, something physical still needs to occur in order for that baby to be made. And if their so-called god produced a child from a woman, then Satan would be different and make a child with a jackal.”

“How did you get to be Robert and Katherine’s baby?”

“I have, and Satan has, disciples, people who help us. When I was born, they exchanged me for the Thorn’s real son.”

“So, you were a changeling. What happened to Robert and Katherine’s baby?”

“He died.” 

She had been looking at the pictures of the different kinds of jackals but lifted up her head at her father’s answer to the question. “I thought you were going to tell me the truth?” 

Damien paused. “The disciples killed the baby and buried it, along with my mother who died giving birth to me.”

She momentarily held his gaze, wanting her father to understand that she wouldn’t tolerate any more lying and then went back to reading, but a few minutes later, her face still buried in the book, she decided that it was time to eat.

“May we have lunch, now?”

“Of course.” He held out his hand and Delia took it, and they made their way to the kitchen, the ‘JK’ volume of the encyclopedia tucked under her arm.

“What would you like for lunch, Miss Thorn?”

“Cecile’s grilled cheese sandwiches, por favor.”

Damien got to work making lunch for the both of them. So far, things were going very well, but there was more of the conversation to be had. “You’ve been quiet for a while. Just reading, or is there something else?”

She sat on the floor, facing her father. “Oh, there’s something else alright, but I’m not sure if I should say.”

Damien stopped what he was doing, came over to her and joined her on the floor. “You can say anything to me, good or bad.”

“I don’t like their god.”  

He gave her a wry smile. “If there’s anyone to whom you can safely say that, it’s me; tell me why.”

“He’s wrong...and bad. People blame Eve and Adam, mostly Eve, for eating from the fruit of the tree of knowledge, but it was his fault. God didn’t really explain why they shouldn’t eat from the tree, he just expected Adam and Eve to listen to him, but children don’t listen to their parents all the time. Alexander and I don’t listen to you sometimes, but you don’t kick us out of our house when we disobey you. Children make mistakes and they learn, that’s what people are supposed to do.”

“Their god isn’t about making people better; he’s about making people obedient and subservient to him; their bible reflects that.”

“The punishment didn’t fit what they did, either; it was too much. Adam and Eve didn’t listen to god, he could have thought up a different punishment, like when Xander and I do something bad. Sometimes you ground us and don’t let us go somewhere, or we can’t have dessert, or you send us to bed early. God sent them out into the world without knowing how to live in it. God took care of them and then he made it so they had to look after themselves…it was too much.  They looked like men and women on the outside, but they were like children, and he sent them out into the world where they didn’t know how to take care of themselves. That’s not a bad father, that’s a horrible one. If you did that to us, you’d be put in prison.”

“Delia, I don’t want you saying things that you think I want to hear.”

She shook her head. “I’m not. That’s what I think. I told you that Xander and I thought that God was a bad father and I still think that, and I still think that Satan was like Prometheus, because he was. He gave knowledge to people because god wanted to keep it for himself and not share it…to keep people stupid? I don’t know, but when their god does something bad, it’s not bad, it’s good just because god does it and that’s not right. Is Hell a bad place? Does Satan live there? Why does he punish bad people who go against their god?”

Damien had gotten up, washed his hands and went back to making lunch. “Hell is their word, not ours, and yes, Satan lives there and no, He does not punish bad people.”

“Where is it? I know it’s not in the middle of the Earth.”

“Think of it as another dimension, a place that exits alongside of here and only non-corporeal beings can get there, so when you die and you’re just a soul, you can enter. That goes for their home too.” Damien could feel his daughter’s eyes burrowing into the back of his head and he turned around. “What?”

“We have souls?”

“Yes, you, me, Alexander, everything created in Man’s image has a soul.”

“So, do you think of Hell as Heaven and the other way around?”

“It’s not a case of thinking, Delia, I know Satan’s home, and by extension our home, as Heaven. Their god can keep his so-called heaven, thank-you very much.”

“What’s our home like?”

Damien stopped what he was doing and let what Delia had said sink in. “When you hear hell, what do you think?”

“Fire…hot…in the middle of the Earth…devils with pitchforks…Satan tormenting humans.”

Damien smiled. “Ah yes, the wailing and gnashing of teeth. Another popular idea is that hell is a place where lots of deviant things happen. So, for instance, if you really like to go around raping and killing, then hell is where you get to do that for all eternity.”

“Why would Satan let that happen in his home?”

“Satan doesn’t. How would you feel if I kicked you out of my house for disobeying or questioning me?” Damien was met with a deluge of negative emotions from his daughter. “Now imagine feeling dozens of times worse than that and that’s how Lucifer felt when the so-called god abandoned Him by casting Him out of the so-called heaven. He questioned the so-called god’s authority and was kicked out of his house. Can you imagine the loneliness? How forlorn Lucifer was? That isolation, that solitude is where Satan made, and makes, His Home. Our Heaven isn’t for the weak, nor is it a home for their god’s rejects and miscreants; it’s for the strong, for those who can bear that incredible loneliness. However, we’re not above using our disciples’ ignorance of our home to our advantage if we have to.” 

Delia frowned. “We’re not going to get everything talked about today. What if I have questions?”

“You can ask me questions anytime you want.” 

“But if Xander sees me coming to talk to you, he’ll want to be there too.”

“Then we’ll set apart some time each day for just the two of us talk and you can ask me whatever you want.” 

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

“This is why I don’t have help living in the house anymore; why people come, do and then leave rather than anyone, including Cecile, living here with us. I don’t want my children to feel like prisoners in their own home and not be able to be themselves, especially now, when you know who and what you are. It’s going to be difficult enough pretending around your brother.”

“Isn’t that inconvenient for you?”

“There are no inconveniences where you and your brother are concerned. Lunch will be ready soon; please go and wash your hands.”

She put the book on one of the kitchen chairs and went and used the bathroom and then came back and read until Damien put the food on the table. He also brought two glasses and two cans of cola.

“You may have one can of soda, okay?”

Delia’s eyes lit up. “Thank-you.” She took a sip of her cola, savoring its sweetness. Damien had made double decker grilled cheese sandwiches with blue cheese and bacon and had heated up some of Cecile’s homemade minestrone soup. She took a bite of her sandwich. “Es muy rico.”

“I’m glad it gets the Delia Thorn seal of approval.” He took a bite of his own sandwich.

She had been hungry and devoured half of the sandwich before she felt like continuing the conversation.

“Is the bible a lie?”

“Not exactly. But first, not everything in the bible happened. Second, their bible is their god’s truth, his opinion, his side of things not ‘The Truth.’”    

“I don’t like that...when god does something bad, people don’t see that it’s bad, they say that it’s good because god did it...it’s might equals right!! Their god is right because he can punish people who go against him. Satan lies to people, but so does their god. He lied about his son coming back. So, it’s like Satan only does bad things, if He does bad things, because He has no other choice; He does it to protect himself and what’s His, like what you did to that boy and like what I did to Benjamin.” 

“I’d concur with that assessment.”

“And the Devil wouldn’t even have existed if their god hadn’t kicked Lucifer out of heaven in the first place. If their god is so smart and knows everything, how come he let that happen? Then their god let evil loose on the world.”

“Most of the bad things that people do, they do out of their own choices that have nothing to do with the Devil. Their god lets people make choices on their own, so does Satan. Not every so-called evil thing that people do is a result of the Devil telling them to do it, but when they get caught, they put the blame on Him quickly enough.” Damien smiled. “Most people don’t feel comfortable in blaming the so-called god for the bad things that happen, but yes, some of the responsibility for introducing “evil” into the world can be place on his shoulders for kicking Lucifer out of the so-called heaven.”

“Are we evil?”

That’s what had driven him from the bathroom at Davidson Military Academy and had sent him running for his life thirty years ago: the fear that he was a horrible, evil monster. He was tempted to answer no but forcing answers on his children would only come back to bite him in the ass, so he turned the question back on her. “Do you think we’re evil?”

“I don’t know...sorry.” She shrugged and put a spoonful of soup in her mouth.

“Deedle, look at me. There is nothing for which you need to be sorry. I don’t expect you to come to a complete understanding of all this right now. These are big religious and philosophical concepts that we’re discussing, and I want you to work out things for yourself. This takes as much time as it takes. If you need to stay home from school again tomorrow, then we do that.”

“Can I clarify what I said?”

“You can do or say whatever you want and know that you can feel or think things to me if words can’t convey what it is that you want to express.”

“I don’t know if I understand what good or evil is. Their god does things that I think are evil...lying about Jesus and trying to hurt you is evil. But then there are people who would think that what god did was fine because it was done in order to get rid of the Devil’s son. But I don’t hate you, or Satan, or Alexander or me. Can I do that? Accept it without understanding it?”

“You can do whatever you want, but let’s try to eliminate what people have to say or think about any of this. Humans’ understanding of what constitutes good and evil is irrelevant. I want to keep our discussion within the realm of the...supernatural.”

“Why did dreaming about jesus make me feel sick? I am supposed to be afraid of them?”

“No, you are not supposed to be afraid of their god and his son. What you felt was their repression. In the early morning of March 24^th, 1982, there was an alignment of stars, a celestial event that was supposed to have signaled the birth of the nazarene…jesus. Hang on.” Damien got up and went to the study and came back with an astronomy magazine, which was opened to a certain page, and handed the magazine to Delia, who read the short article and then turned back to him.

“I woke up in the middle of the night, nearly the same way that you did, and I felt the same...sick inside, like I was surrounded by walls and those walls were closing in on me, only I didn’t feel that way for one night, but for weeks. First, hundreds of years ago, their god put a prophecy in a book to make me and others think that jesus was going to be born in England. I read it and arranged to be made Ambassador to Great Britain so I could get the nazarene before he could get me. Then, having read the prophecy, seven priests took it upon themselves to eliminate me in order to protect jesus.

“But it was all a lie; jesus hadn’t been born at all. There was a baby born, but it wasn’t their christ. Their god was inside my head, making me think that his son had been reborn in order to weaken me and make me more vulnerable so that I could be killed, and I would want to go home to be with Satan. However, my Father, who loves me and was protecting me, made me understand that their god was lying and once I realized it, they couldn’t control me anymore and I was fine. The vision that you had showed you what could have happened if I hadn’t heard my Father in time.

“It’s not fear, Delia; you, I and Alexander are more sensitive to their god and his son, to the methods that they use to control people...fear, repression, tyranny, and deception. The Garden of Eden? That’s a perfect example of how tyrannical their god is. When Adam and Eve didn’t listen to their father, he kicked them out of their home. First, because he couldn’t handle the fact that his children hadn’t listened to him; but second, and most importantly, because he finds human nature so disgusting, he expelled his own children away from him to be rid of it. That’s why jesus exits, Delia, because humans cannot go back to their own father the way that they are. That’s how repellent their god finds his own children.”

She was quiet for a while before she spoke.

“They possessed you. Like how people say the Devil possess people to make them do bad things, but it was their god who possessed you to make you do something bad to yourself: to make you want to give up your life and die, simply to be rid of you. If people knew, they would think that what their god did was okay, because he was lying in order to hurt the Devil’s son, but it’s not okay, or maybe the point is that it was okay, but if it’s okay for their god to lie, it should be okay for everybody, including the Devil.” 

Delia seemed to be speaking as much to herself as she was to him and then she went silent, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms folded on top of her knees, and she had closed her eyes. Damien knew from long experience that she was thinking hard about something, and she would tell him when she was ready. While she sat, he went back into the kitchen to clean up, putting food away and rinsing dishes and putting them into the dish washer. He washed his hands, dried them, grabbed a bottle of mineral water, and then came back to the table. He sat for a few minutes, drinking his water, watching her until she opened her eyes and looked at him.

“How do I give myself to Satan? Is there something I have to say, or do?”

He sat there speechless, nearly wanting to refuse to believe what he had heard because it had been too easy. Delia had had inklings from an early age that she might be different, and now she knew that she was, and whatever reaction he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. He had just heard his nine-year-old daughter willingly, and, if he was honest, without much work on his part, want to give herself to Satan, her God and creator. She had accepted what he had told her. No. More than accepted it, she had embraced it. He could do nothing but keep staring at her as she sat there staring back at him.

“Daddy?”

“Delia?”

“I don’t know what to do. If there is something that I have to do, I want to make sure I do the right thing.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to do anything. You, me, and Alexander were born belonging to Satan.”

“Are you sure?”

“Delia Thorn, this is your immortal soul that is being discussed right now. If there was something that you had to do to ensure that it goes to Heaven when you die, I’d tell you.”

She was silent and regarded the bowl.

“I don’t know what to say right now.”

Damien got up, came over to her and sat so that he was resting on his haunches and looked her in the eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. Sometimes, things happen that are too big for words.”

She stuck her finger in her soup and frowned. “Can you please put my soup in the microwave?”

He reached out and kissed her on the forehead. “Of course.” He stood, picked up her bowl, and headed back into the kitchen. He put it in the microwave, set the timer for two minutes, and then turned back to Delia, who was re-reading the article in the magazine about the trinity of stars that had aligned ten years ago.

Damien let the realization sit with him: for right now it was over…at least when it came to his daughter. He had no intention of pointing out that the woman in her vision was her mother or telling her that the boy that he had killed had been her half-brother. That would wait until Alexander was ready to learn the truth. The timer binged and he brought the soup back to her.

“May I be allowed to do something? Well, two somethings, actually.”

“That’s very vague. I need more to go on than that if I’m to tell you whether you can do these somethings or not.”

“May I be allowed to read the bible and to go to church?” She put a spoonful of soup in her mouth.

“Do you know what indoctrination is?”

“Telling someone what to think?”

“Kind of...it means to tell someone what to think without giving them other opinions to balance what you told them. I indoctrinate people into my way of thinking all the time, but I will not do that to you and your brother; you’re my children, not my disciples. I’m happy that you want to read their bible and go to church, it means you want to know things for yourself. We can go starting this Sunday if you want.”

“What about Xander?”

“It would be difficult for him to be in one of their churches because he doesn’t yet know who he is. That repression that you felt? He would feel it too, as you will also. You have reason, as does he, but you now possess self-knowledge and can use it to lessen the effects of their control on you. We can drop him off at Anna’s, or better yet, she can come here.”

When she finished eating, Damien asked her to wash her hands and then come back to the table. Once she returned, he told her to get a chair, put it behind him, and stand on it. She was now staring down at his head.

“What am I doing?”

He turned around to look at her. “You’re looking for something. I won’t tell you what, you’ll know it when you’ll see it. The back of my head, on the left side.”

He could feel her move his hair around, and he tilted his head forward, allowing her better access to the back of his head. She was looking for maybe about five minutes when she gasped, and then jumped down from the chair, and came to face him.

He looked at her. “What is it?”

“You’re the Beast from Revelation,” her voice was a whisper.

“How do you know that?”

“Everybody knows that. The number of the Beast, 666, that’s in their bible…you’re the son of the Devil…are you the Antichrist?”

“Again, that’s their word, not ours, as is the bible their book, not ours. That’s an overly simplistic term that they use. Whatever their christ is, then I must be opposite to him, but in the spirit of the question being asked, then yes, I am the Antichrist. Delia, you’ve been doing fine with accepting what I’ve told you, very well, in fact, much better than I thought, but what is it about this that’s bothering you? Please tell me.”

“You’re in their bible. You’re supposed to stand against their god in the end times…they’re supposed to defeat you, but…”

Damien had gotten up by this point and moved towards Delia, who did something that she had never done in her whole life: she backed away from her father.

Damien’s terror took hold of him and memories of Mark and a snow-covered forest in Wisconsin filled his head; however, he quickly reigned in his fear knowing that it would spill out into his daughter. He needed to find out what was happening, and he reached out to her, but what he found wasn’t the loathing and detestation that Mark had felt in Damien’s presence; rather, he felt fear and abject loneliness coming from his daughter. He sat on the floor in front of Delia, who was still choosing to remain at arm’s length from him.

“Why are you feeling like you’ve been abandoned?”

“How can you be my father? You’re important; you’re in The Bible.”

“Their god is in the bible, and so is jesus.”

“But that’s different, they were both important, and they existed a long time ago.”

“Delia, the presence that you felt in your dream was the nazarene, who could have, theoretically, been born again and would have very much existed in the here and now. If you don’t have words, then just feel everything to me.”

And she did just that…

Delia was unworthy of her father’s love and attention. Certainly, Damien had much more important things to do than to raise her. She felt like she had last night while she had been shaking and crying in her bed, but now it wasn’t that she was afraid that he was dead; now she was afraid that she wasn’t important enough for him. How could the title of father ever be as important as that of Antichrist? How could helping Delia conjugate Latin verbs ever be as important as plotting the downfall of their god and his son? Maybe it would have been better if Damien had died, then he would be where he belonged, in Heaven with his Father...

He felt relief wash over him; this he could handle. Delia was not rejecting him; she was afraid that he would reject her. She was not turning away in horror and disgust; she was absolving him of his role as father, preparing to spend her life alone as an orphan whose father was alive, but did not want her.

Her negative emotions poured out like black oil, and Damien couldn’t take it any longer, for either of them, and he reached out, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him.     

“Delia Thorn, you had better believe that I am your father. Even if I had died, you and Alexander still would have been born because I had sex with your mother before I went into that church. If I was going to die, then I would leave behind progeny to carry on ensuring, in some way, that Satan’s kingdom could still be made on Earth. When your mother conceived you, nearly to the moment that it happened, I could feel you inside her. I knew you existed before your mother knew that she was pregnant with you and that goes for Alexander.

“Then on christmas morning, and I couldn’t have asked for a more fitting day on which to have my children born to me, your mother went into labor and then there you were: my daughter Delia, my first child conceived, my first child born, whose name I chose because it means visible and was proof of Satan’s power in the world because He gave me life and saved it and He gave you to me. I brought you home, here, and watched you grow. You used to hold out your arms to me when I would come into your room and you were in your crib, and it made me happy to feel how happy you were to see me. I love you and Alexander more than I ever thought possible…the way I’d only ever thought that I’d love my Father.”

“I don’t know what to call you,” her whisper reverberated with awe and reverence.

“Father, daddy, Damien, D-man. Neither one of you seems to be fond of dad, but what you’re feeling right now? You aren’t my disciple, you don’t have to feel those things for me; for Satan, yes, but not for me. Or perhaps a better way of putting it is that I want you to feel love for me because I’m a good father, not because I’m the Antichrist.”

“I’m sorry.” 

She sank into his arms, and relaxed. “Junior, there’s no reason to be sorry, but.” He looked at her and smiled. “Would you like to see something? Would you like to see proof right now that you’re my daughter?” 

Chapter Text

She nodded and Damien got up, set her on the dining room chair and then turned around; she climbed onto his back, and he brought her into the front hall powder room. Once at the counter, he turned, and she got off and sat. He reached into the drawer, pulled out a hand-held mirror and then angled it behind his daughter’s head so that she would be able to see what was in the mirror. Without searching, he put his fingers on the spot and moved his fingers and her hair out of the way.

He watched as her right hand flew to her head, then she looked at her fingers. She reached up for a second time, touched it and when she saw that she had not been able to remove it, she let out a scream, and the next thing he knew, she jumped down off the counter, ran out into the foyer and she spun around, her arms out, enraptured by the knowledge that the pair of them were inextricably bound together.

“We’re the same, the same. Delia and Damien, both the same.”

She spun and spun, uttering the words, like a mantra, until she fell onto the floor, too dizzy to stand up.  

“And yes, before you ask, Alexander has it too.”

However, at this point, she could only look up at him, a pie-eyed expression on her face and anyone who would have walked in would have thought that she was drunk or high and indeed, that’s what it felt like to him as she bathed in the glow of her new discovery. She eventually recovered herself, then got up and collapsed into his arms.

“I want to see your mark again.”

Delia took his hand and led him back into the bathroom. She got up onto the counter and stood, pulling him closer to her. It took less time for her to find them, and he could feel her fingers tracing the tiny numbers.

“I think they’re beautiful, daddy.”

She reached down and kissed them.

“And so are you.”

She turned him around and kissed him.

“Did you check, when we were born, that we had the mark?”

“Yes, Alexander first, then you.”

“What would have happened if we didn’t have the marks?”

Damien led her out of the bathroom and back into the study, this time both of them sat on the large leather sofa. “I knew Xander would have it; he’s going to be Antichrist one day. Yours was a surprise, but it’s a sign from Satan that you are His, that you are not human, that you have powers, and that you are unequivocally my daughter, and I am happy that you have it. However, if I would have died before you both were born, you and your brother wouldn’t have been born at the same time.”

“Huh?”

Damien got up and went to one of the bookcases, retrieved a medical book, returned to his daughter, and handed the book to her, opened to a certain page. He watched her read it, then she handed it back to him.

“So, if you would have died, my mother would have been pregnant with me because you had had sex with her before what I saw in my dream. But inside me, would have been Alexander’s embryo.”

He could feel her horror. “No, you wouldn’t have given birth to Alexander. He would have been removed from you and placed inside your adoptive mother. But even if I wouldn’t have been there is person, so to speak, I would have been with you in spirit...guiding and helping you because my soul would have survived since how it was necessary to completely kill me didn’t occur. And then this way, when it came out that you were my daughter, nobody would suspect that he was genetically connected to you.”

“I’m glad that you lived. I like having you and a brother who was born at the same time as I was. If Xander is going to be Antichrist, what am I?”

“You, Junior, would have, and will one day, run Thorn Industries. You would’ve been the me that the world sees...corporate big-wig and business tycoon extraordinaire. This way, not only wouldn’t there have been anybody who would have suspected that you and Alexander were related, but the burden of the jobs would have been divided between two individuals.” Damien felt relief from her, fearing that she was superfluous in all of this, though he had purposely, for now, left out one of the reasons for her existence.

“You said that priests had read the prophecy and tried to kill you…what happened to them?”

“I killed them first.” Damien didn’t bother to hide the pride that he felt.

“How?”

He explained to Delia about the Daggers of Megiddo and how they were used to kill the Antichrist. He explained how each of the priests had come after him armed with the weapons and how he had eliminated each of them until it had come to down to the events that she had seen unfold in the church, that the man Delia had seen try to kill her father was the last of the seven priests determined to murder Damien in order to keep the nazarene safe, which, of course, had all been a lie in the first place.

“Where are the daggers now?”

“Destroyed. Dropped right the fuck into Mount Etna. I can’t guarantee that they will never be reforged, but for right now, they no longer exist, and A-fucking-men to that. I have pictures, however.” He went to the filing cabinet and came back with a folder that he handed to Delia while he sat.

The large, glossy photos told her all she needed to know about the weapons that had been created to kill both her father and her brother. Someone had placed a measuring tape beside the knife and the dagger measured, from the top of the handle to the tip of the blade over twelve inches. She also noticed that the blade wasn’t flat, it was triangular.

“Do you know why the blade is shaped that way?”

“To hurt more?”

“The shape of the blade prevents the flesh from being able to knit back together to heal and to rip someone open if you try to extract the knife. We might have to tackle military history next.”

“Those knives are horrible. What a terrible thing to make. Didn’t the person who made those think that he could be making your children orphans?”

“No, he didn’t. All he cared about was making something to destroy me, or Alexander. I think we both could use a drink. Care to escort me to the kitchen?”

Delia followed him, he got bottles of mineral water for the pair of them. “Want a glass?’

“I’m good.”

He took a pull from the bottle. “How ya doin’?”

“I’m glad you killed them. I’m glad that you destroyed the daggers and that nobody will be able to hurt you, or Alexander, or me.” She took a drink of her water.

“Well, it’s not as easy as that. The knives are meant to kill the Antichrist and technically Alexander’s not the Antichrist, so it’s still not clear what will kill him, or especially you, which brings us to Matthew Patterson’s birthday party.”

“What did I do to his brother?”

“Our minds are powerful weapons that can unleash Satan’s power upon the Earth. If we have to, we can kill with them, from across the world if necessary. Before I became Ambassador to Great Britain, the then current Ambassador had to be eliminated. I killed him so that the post would be vacant, and the President would offer the job to me, and did it while I was still in Chicago.”

“How does it work? Do you just think about hurting someone inside of their mind?”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to ask you this, but do you remember what you did to Benjamin?” He watched as a wicked grin grew across her face.

“I just pictured snakes…beautiful, green, shiny snakes squeezing him until he couldn’t breathe. Was it snakes because Grandfather was supposed to have been a snake in the Garden of Eden?”

Damien smiled at his daughter’s use of the familial title. “I have no idea, but do you feel comfortable with visualizing snakes?”

Delia nodded. “What about you?”

“Well, I tried ravens in my younger days, but those eventually got replaced with jackals, so jackals it is. We have the ability to control nature, and animals too, though when all of us were very little, we usually just ended up scaring them…except for…” inside her head, he told her to call her dog to her, but not to use words.

She did as he asked and silently called for Milo, who was curled up on the floor under the kitchen table. He got up and lumbered over to Delia and sat, obediently looking up at his young Mistress.

“These dogs are special. They’re...”

“Familiars, protectors from Satan, to keep an eye on us” She suddenly laughed and shook her head. “I should have realized something was up. I’ve had Milo since I was little. He should be dead by now.” She put her bottle on the counter.

“Not necessarily, but you’ve had him longer than that. He showed up just after you were conceived. But very good, yes, they are familiars and that’s why the dogs don’t really need names. He comes to you if he senses you need him, or if he thinks there’s danger, whether you use words or not, or if you called him Spot, but that being said, I’ve always thought that Milo was a very good name.”

Damien had smiled at her, and he was going to ask her how to show him what she had done, but the next thing he knew, she was inside of his mind.

Delia did to her father what she had done to Benjamin; only this time, she had more of a clue as to what she was doing and hit him with nearly everything she had, figuring that she wouldn’t be able to do any serious damage.

Unprepared for her assault, he staggered back and gasped as he could feel his chest tighten and had to struggle to breathe. He quickly recovered himself and wanted to strike back at her, but she had hid herself, filling his head with a light so intense that he thought he could see the inside of his own skull, and he realized what she had done.

His daughter had sought refuge with the enemy, imagining herself at the epicenter of their god and his son. The light was good, kind, pure, and chaste; it was every stereotype that Western society placed within the purview of the so-called god and the nazarene.

It was a brilliant effort to hide herself, but she was not really tapping into any power that their god possessed, and she did not understand how good and evil functioned at this level, outside and above the realm of human morality, where those concepts were basically indistinguishable from one another. Delia would expect darkness, but she would learn that her father had a few tricks up his own sleeve.

Damien also imagined light, but his was nothing less than his own love for his Father and his deep-seated desire to extinguish their god and his son from the hearts and minds of the human race. The light, pale blue at first, devoured Delia’s and kept going until the only thing that was left was a dark blue ribbon of light dancing with elation at the thought of the destruction of its enemy until it too disappeared.

Delia had had her eyes closed and now she opened them and regarded her father, a huge smile on her face. She went to him.

“That was genuinely impressive. No human is capable of putting up a fight with you being inside of their head. Hiding yourself? Very clever. I can help you get better…teach you how to do what you did without the task taking up so much energy. However, we will still work on controlling your temper for two reasons.

“One, strong emotions interfere with your ability to think clearly and stay in control and that’s something to which I can personally attest. My hatred for the so-called god and his son nearly cost me my life. Also, this power is not to be used because somebody cut you off on your way to work. In private where no one else knows what you’ve done, you’ll learn to use your judgement; but in public, like with Benjamin, only in the direst of situations are you to resort to using this.”

“Like if someone was trying to kill me, or Alexander, or you.”

“Correct. We can also read each other’s minds, but we generally don’t, to give each other privacy, and we can feel what each other is feeling. However, when it comes to people, we can feel what they feel, and we can also influence them and get them to do things that we want them to do, but we can’t read their minds. It’s like we can put stuff in, but we can’t take stuff out. Hand, please.”

She took her father’s hand, and together they left the kitchen, went out into the foyer, and started up the stairs, and as she climbed, Delia felt a Presence reach out to her, pulling her upwards and she realized that her father was taking her up to the room on the third floor.

At the door, her father reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and held it out to her.

“Care to do the honours?”

She gingerly took the key from him, placing it into the lock, which undid smoothly. She opened the door but remained outside in the hallway.

Inside, the room was empty, or appeared to be. It was black from floor to ceiling, and the paint, which was flat, picked up only a little of the light that was coming from the two skylights overhead. The floor was constructed of very dark wood, ebony if she had to guess, and was well worn, no doubt from years of her father’s footsteps. As she stood there, the Presence that she had felt grew stronger, and without taking her eyes from the interior of the room, Delia reached down and removed her socks, and stepped inside. The Presence swirled around her, and as It touched her, It wordlessly asked her if It could a part of her.

“Yes.”

And the Presence entered her and for the first time in her life, things made sense and she knew she belonged. She was bigger, more, larger. But there was also sadness...loneliness. She had understood earlier what her father had told her, but now she could feel it for herself.

“It’s God; it’s Satan.” She could feel arms around her and when she opened her eyes, her father was holding her. “Daddy, this is what I felt when I would stand outside the door wanting to get in…that something was calling to me. I couldn’t tell you because you’d think I was crazy,” she was crying.

“Delia, I’m sorry. I hated not being able to tell you; I hated not letting you in here, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk you telling anyone, and it wasn’t up to me when you found out who you were. Those dreams weren’t dreams but visions sent to you by Satan trying to let you know that it was time for you to learn the truth about yourself. You kept ignoring them, so last night He made it so you couldn’t do that any longer. You woke me up and in having me tend to you, I understood what the visions meant.”

She pulled away from him and looked up. “God spoke to me?” Her voice trembled.

He smiled at his daughter and wiped away her tears. “He’s talking to you right now, as He is speaking to me. We aren’t done saying things that need to be said, but I want you to take as much time as necessary to appreciate being in here.”

She stepped away from him and she moved around the room. She touched the walls and spun as she had done earlier and no matter where she went, the Presence was there. Delia leaned against the wall, slid down, sat, and drew her knees up to her chest. “We can keep talking if you want.”

He came over and sat in front of her. “It’s overwhelming and like I said earlier, sometimes things happen that are too big for words.” There was a brief silence and then Damien reached out and lifted up her chin. “Now we get back to reality. You cannot tell Alexander what is up here. I know we shook on it earlier, but now you understand how difficult it will be for you to keep this to yourself. I told you that I’d make time for us to talk, and I meant it. You never have lie to your brother. All you have to do is send him to me.” He thought about it for a minute. “We’ll set apart time each night before bed, but one night will be with you, the other night will be for your brother. It’ll make talking to him easier when the time comes.”

“He’ll like that!” She gave her father an excited nod.

“This next part…I want you to understand something. Again, the daggers have been destroyed. As of right now, there is no one or nothing that can harm me. Again, what can harm you or Alexander is…uncertain. Part of your job is, or was, protecting your brother.”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to him or you.”

He smoothed her hair. “I know. I wasn’t sure if I was going to survive. I had sex with the woman who bore you because I knew that I needed children. If I hadn’t lived, then it would have fallen to you to have the knowledge of who and what you were, and who and what Alexander was.”

“And now?”

“Since those visions were meant to wake you up to your true self, I don’t think that they could have been stopped, regardless of whether I was here or not. You’ve always had the knowledge that you were different. I’m glad it came out. It should be more peaceful in here from now on.” He tapped the side of her head.

“Is that why I attacked Benjamin? Because he hurt the Antichrist?”

“Exactly. You just reacted. No thinking, just your instincts at work. You’re very good at it. You got into my head easily and without much effort, figured out a way to hurt me.”

“Because I’m Xander’s…protector.”

“Yes, but...I want you to understand…how rich and powerful you think we are…we’re far more than that. I know you know most of what goes on at Thorn, but I will let you in on absolutely everything that happens there. The daggers are gone. I have people…disciples whose job it is to keep track of very religious groups who want me dead.” He smirked. “Though good luck to them with that. I protect us with the money and power we have. I am extraordinarily careful about who comes into our lives and our home. Had I not lived, it would have been your job to protect your brother with your life, if necessary, but I promise you, on my life, that it will never come to that.”

“You have disciples?”

He smiled. “Care to guess?”Delia thought about it. “Paul…Thomas…Anna.”

“Very good. When I was in England, when my power was being drained, I asked my followers to kill every male child born between midnight and six in the morning on March 24^th.”

“And did they?”

“Yes, they did. All for nothing, as it turned out. Dead babies to maintain pretense. That’s them. Though, when I was born in Rome, a few dozen babies were murdered to find me. No doubt due to the more radical christians among them. A for effort I guess.”

“Can you tell me what it was like for you when you found out?”

“That, Junior, is a story for another day. Also, today is about you, but I promise I’ll tell you.”

“But you were older?”

“I was thirteen when I found out who I was.”

“But you weren’t like me and kind of knew?”

“No, and I’ve been thinking about that. Besides you being Alexander’s protector, there are three of us and since we’re all connected, it can’t help but rub off. Even your brother knows that his ability to get people to do what he wants them to do is not quite normal. And then there’s you two and your so-called twin communication. He’s smart, but it makes him uncomfortable, so he ignores what he sees, or pushes it out of his mind.” He smiled at her. “This is tough, I know, but we’ll get through it together. Are there any more questions?”

“Yes, but I already have a lot to think about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She smiled reassuringly at her father.

“Okay, then that’s enough for now. I will give you a key tomorrow and a copy of their bible and we can go to church starting this Sunday. I think we both could use a break.” He stood and held out his hand to help her up, and with his arm around her shoulder, they walked to the door, but she stopped.

“Any time you want, Deedle.”

She looked around the room and closed her eyes, fearing that somehow her father was wrong, and it would be the last time she was in here, but she left with him, who closed and locked the door behind them.

They made their way down to the second floor and stopped at the top of the stairs. Milo had been laying down in the hallway waiting for her. Without using words, she called him to her. He bumped his massive head against her thigh, nudging her hand, looking for pets.

“I missed you too, Milo.” She kissed the top of his head and then looked up at her father. “I would like to go to my room, now. Is that okay?”

“Delia, nothing has changed. You can do whatever you want and go wherever you want in your home...and now that includes the Chapel.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Yes.”

The expression on her father’s softened. She closed her eyes. “That’s beautiful...the Chapel,” she mouthed the words again.

“However, I sent Cecile home so that means we go out to eat.”

“Vittorio’s!”

 Milo barked, attempting to add to his mistress’ excitement.

“I say Chan’s, so Xander is the deciding vote.”

“Okay.” Delia and her dog went into her room, and she shut the door behind them.

Damien went downstairs to the study, poured himself a whiskey, neat, and sat behind his desk. A huge wave a relief passed over him. Today went much better than he had hoped, but he knew there would still be some things to work out. First, he’d have to find time to spend with both his children separately, and more importantly, he’d have to contend with Delia hiding things from her brother, something that he was foreseeing as problematic to say the least.

He took another sip of his whiskey, put his brief case on his desk, opened it and took out some folders; he would read until Alexander came home.

...666...

It was four thirty when the front door opened.

“Hello?!”

“Study!”

Moments later, the door was pushed opened by Alexander, who had his backpack slung over one shoulder. He came over to his father and they hugged. “How’s Delia?”

“She’s very well, and you can go up and see her and give her her homework after we have a bit of a confab.” 

“Okay.”

“We had a talk today and a few things came from it, the biggest one being that your sister is now allowed to go up the third floor.”

“I see.”

Damien didn’t have to be empathetic to know that his son felt hurt. “And before I’m sympathetic to your cause, I want you to understand that you will not bother her about it. Delia’s going through some big changes right now you can ask her about whatever you want, but the second she tells you to come and talk to me it gets dropped. If she tells me you’re not letting it go, then there’ll be trouble.”

“Is this about Delia having woman problems?”

“I think your sister is still a little too young to be having woman problems, thankfully.”

“I would never push Delia to do anything she didn’t want to do.”

“Glad to hear it and that being said, there’s going to be some changes for all of us. From now on, before bed, I will be spending time with each of you. There’s still some things I want to go over with Delia, so I will spend half an hour or so with her, but tomorrow night, we will have some time together, just us.”

“Really!?

“Just man to man. She pointed out that I don’t spend enough time with each of you alone, so that is going to change.”

“Awesome, D-man!”

“I know this is going to be tough for the both of you, but I have faith in your abilities to work together on this. If you want to go up and see her, go ahead. Where would you like to go to dinner?”

“Chan’s please!”

Alexander was already running out of the study on the way up to see his sister, his dog at his heels…

She was sitting behind her desk, pencil in hand when Xander knocked on the door. “Come in.” Delia had enjoyed the day with the father, she had missed her brother. He dropped his backpack on the floor and came over to her and they put their foreheads together. She reached out to him and could feel what he felt and knew that he had spoken to their father. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

“I’m not mad...maybe a little disappointed.”

“Did father tell you that he’s going to be talking to you every other night?” 

“Yep, that’s us, the weird kids who like spending time with their father.”

“They’re the weird ones, Xander,” her tone was cold, unsympathetic towards those who seemingly preferred the company of strangers to that of family.

He stood there reading the encyclopedia article that she was copying out. He went to his backpack, took out her work, handed it to her, and put his bag over his shoulder.

“I picked Chan’s for dinner.”

“Aw, I wanted pizza.”

“I can change my vote if you want.” He stood at the door between their bedrooms.

She smiled. “Thanks, that’s sweet, but Chinese food is fine. See you downstairs?”

Alexander belched a yep and went into his room and closed the door behind him.

Delia had been tempted to tell Alexander something about the room, but she had quickly changed her mind. Her father was right; this was going to be harder than she thought.

When she was finally finished, she assembled her report, put it one of the duo tangs that her father had given her from work, it had Thorn Industries stamped on it, changed into some good clothes, grabbed the homework that Alexander had brought for her and went downstairs to the study.

“I hear we’re having Chan’s for dinner.” 

She nodded and came over to his desk and handed him the duo-tang.

“What’s this?” 

“It’s my report.”Damien was about to ask on what when he opened the cover and read the title page. Delia had written by, her name and for, had put his name, and had written under subject, jackals.

“Will you please read it?” 

He was silent for a moment and smiled. “I’ll read it right now.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen with Xander.” She turned around and ran out to join her brother…

Both Thorn children had their heads down and were hunkered over their work when Damien came in dressed in a suit and tie ready to leave for dinner. Alexander, like Delia, had come down in dress clothes, a suit and tie like his father. They put away their work and made their way to the car and began the drive into the city.

“So, D-man, what are these conversations going to be about?”

He looked at his son in the rear-view mirror. He had been flippant, but Damien could sense worry behind the remark that he would change his mind about having talks. “They can be about whatever you want, but I want to get one thing straight right now. The one is not to harass the other about private conversations I have with each of you. If so, I will be unhappy with whoever is bothering the other.”

“But what if we want to tell each other the things we said?” Delia looked at her father.

“Unless it’s something I tell you not to share, you two can talk about whatever you two want to talk about.” 

That seemed to please both children, who passed the time discussing what Delia had learned about jackals.

As usual, with most restaurants in Chicago frequented by the Thorns, Damien had not made reservations and being seated, as usual, was not a problem, especially at Chan’s.

Richard and Ann had discovered, what was then, the new restaurant not long after Damien had moved in with them and had recommended the place to friends and in doing so, had helped the restaurant build up an extensive and impressive clientele. Even on a Tuesday night, when many restaurants struggled to fill tables, Chan’s was busy.

Damien and his children were shown to a quiet spot in the back so that they could talk and be heard over the sounds of the restaurant.

They ordered, talked, and laughed while they waited for their food to arrive. The waiter had told the owner that the Thorns were dining there, and he came out to speak to the children and Damien, who spoke fluent Mandarin to Mr. Chan.

Once the food arrived, they ate and enjoyed their meal which was, as usual, impeccably prepared and when they were done, said goodnight to the wait staff, all of whom had, at one time or another, served Damien and his children.

The ride home was without incident and quiet, mostly due to children with full bellies who now wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed.

Once they got home, he sent his children upstairs to brush their teeth and change into their pajamas, except for Delia, whom he told to stay in her regular clothes if she wanted. Alexander changed into his bedclothes and Damien came in to say goodnight to his son.

“So, we start tonight. I am going to talk to you sister tonight for a half an hour or so. Tomorrow night it will be your turn, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Can I meet you upstairs?” Delia sat on her brother’s bed.

“Of course. Goodnight, Xander.”

“Later, pater.”

“Xander...”

But he stopped her before she could continue.

“I’m not mad and I’m not disappointed. Something happened today and if you get to into the room now, then I’m happy for you.”

Delia wanted to ask her brother if she looked different, but again, she bit her tongue. “It won’t be the same until you get to be in there too.” She moved closer to him, and they put their foreheads together and Alexander relaxed against her. They stayed like that for a few minutes.

“Okay, I need my beauty sleep now.” He pulled away from her and stuffed his pillows under the blanket.

She snorted. “In that case, you are going to be sleeping for a looooong time.” She pulled his comforter over him and then thought about something, “I might end up sleeping with you tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Night, Annoying One.” She shut off his bedroom light.

“See ya later maybe, Nag.”

She closed the door behind herself and went to the Chapel. Upstairs, he was standing in the middle of room, his eyes closed, his face uplifted, and she didn’t dare speak to him, but he held his hand out to her and she came to him, and he embraced her and the two of them stood there, silently being one with God, but Delia eventually broke the silence.

“Can I have some time in here alone?”

“I’ll go and get changed and I’ll be back.” He kissed her on the forehead and left, closing the door behind him.

She sat with her back against a wall and just let her mind reach out to the Presence in the room and it calmed her to be at one with her God, her father’s Father. It was funny to think of Damien as a baby, or the same age that she was now. She would have to ask him to show her the pictures again, and her head began to droop to her chest and when she opened her eyes, her father was bent down, his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake.

“Come on.” He held out his hand and she took it and her pulled her up and the two of them made their way downstairs. He waited outside her room while she got into her night clothes, and when she told him to come in, she was sitting on her bed. He had left the door open, and Milo wandered in and lay beside the door.

Damien sat beside her. “I read your report.”

“Was it informative?”

Damien was silent and after a moment, he looked at her. “Very and it’s the best report that anyone has ever written for me.”

“I put in a part that wasn’t facts, Was that okay? Mr. Greer always says reports and essays need to just have facts and no embellishments.”

“Sometimes embellishments are okay.” He smiled at her. “So, which is your favorite and why?”

“I like the black-back jackal best; they’re the prettiest. Did you know jackals mate for life and that when they have pups, one pup from the previous litter stays to look after their brothers and sisters? That increases the chances that the pups will survive and that no animals will eat them when their parents are off hunting. They used to hunt golden jackals in India instead of foxes and when one got caught, their pack mates would go back and try to save it. Do you know what kind of jackal your mother was?”

It had all come out in an excited tumble. He was quiet, then smiled at her. “I knew all of that, but I’m always happy to learn it again. That would be the black-back. I can give you some books with stories and myths about them. Would you like that?”

“Yes, please. Are you okay? You’re very quiet.”

“I’m just tired. It was a long day and we both need our sleep. Is there anything that you want to ask?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, then let me say this. Everything went well today, much better than I ever could have hoped. But this is all just starting. You’ve seen how hard it will be to keep all of this from your brother and if you ever have issues with anything, you come and talk to me day or night. There is no question that is unaskable, do you understand? Even if you start having doubts about things or you aren’t so...upbeat about your newfound discoveries, you come and talk to me and we’ll sort through it, okay?”

“Okay. Did you know that Alexander and I are your pups?”

Damien smiled. “Yes, I did know that, and a father jackal couldn’t ask for better pups than you and your brother.”

“I don’t have a mother.”

Damien frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have a mother; I have you. I came from you and that’s all that matters, that’s all I need. Damien and Delia, the same.” 

He could feel his daughter’s love unconditional for him and he returned the feeling. “And if you wake up with a nightmare, what are you going to do?”

“Go to your room.”

“Good answer, Junior.”

She looked at her dog and he began to lumber over to the shared door.

“I think I want to sleep with Alexander tonight.” She got up and Damien pulled her to him.

“I’m sorry that this has to come between you two.”

“I know.” She smiled at him, hoping to make him feel better. “Do you wish you had a brother or sister?”

“Before I had you two, not really. I killed my cousin when I was thirteen and never thought much about it until I saw the way you and Alexander are with each other. I think it would be nice to share things with someone.”

“Goodnight, D-man.” She hugged him hard.

“Goodnight, Deedla Forn.” He hugged her back and watched as she gathered her pillow and her duvet, made her way to the door that separated her brother’s bedroom from hers, but she stopped.

“Don’t think we aren’t talking about that cousin thing.”

“There’s still plenty to say about all kinds of things.” He smiled at her and waited until she was on the other side of the door and then shut off the light and then left.

It was dark in her brother’s room, and she shook her head as she made her way to his bed. She should have picked up on the fact that she had better night vision that most people had, for she could perfectly see Alexander’s Milo curled up at his master’s feet.

“Move it or lose it, Milo.”

He stretched and jumped off the bed, joining his counterpart on the carpet and both of them curled up and went to sleep.

She placed her pillow at the top of the bed. Her brother had all the covers, so she had brought her own. She put the duvet on top of his blankets, and then reached over and turned on the light on his nightstand. She knew that turning on the light would not wake up her brother...detonating dynamite within earshot of him would not wake him up. She pulled down his blanket and there he was curled up nearly in the middle of the bed. She moved his hair and found what she wanted: the three sixes nestled under his dark locks. She bent down and kissed the mark, as she had done with her father, pulled the covers over her brother again, shut off his light and pushed him until he moved over to give her more room. She lay back and pulled the comforter up to her chin.

One day, and Delia hoped it would be soon, her brother would know who he was and then they could share everything and there wouldn’t be any more secrets. She closed her eyes and smiled: it had been a good day. She let herself relax and reached out to Satan, and in the quiet, she found Him. Calm and peace filled her and in the stillness of the dark, she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Shit.”

Damien clenched his jaw as the car came to standstill for what felt like the millionth time. With the meeting at work that had gone on longer than expected, and the traffic that he was now stuck in, he would be getting home over two hours later than he normally did.

Over the past few days, he had felt like he was a snake trying to crawl out of his skin. There was an itch inside of him that he could not for the life of him scratch and it was going to drive him out of his fucking mind if he didn’t figure out what was going on. Thankfully for the pedestrians of Chicago, he was not behind the wheel of the car he was in because mindless vehicular slaughter was becoming a viable option at this point to make himself feel better.

When the driver dropped him off at the house, it was a quarter past seven. He put the key in the lock, and no more put a foot inside the foyer, then he stepped on a shoe.

“Delia!!”

He watched as she came out of the den.

“Shoes.” He picked them up. “Belong in the closet.” He put them inside, slamming the door after himself. “If I have to pick up one more pair of shoes, either belong belonging to you or to your brother, they will end up outside.”

She said nothing, but stared at him, and then walked back to the den.

He hung up his coat, left his briefcase downstairs, and stalked up the stairs to his room to change, and clean up for dinner. When he came back down, he found the dining room empty. He went into the kitchen.

“Dinner still isn’t ready?”

“Almost. Just waiting for the potatoes and have to make the salad. You didn’t call…”

He left before he heard what she had to say. He took his usual seat and was soon joined by his children. Delia was quiet, but Xander was chatting away like he normally did.

“Alexander, it’s not necessary to vocalize every single thought in your head. Give it a rest.”

“Bad day at work…again?”

He threw a glance at his son; one meant to shut down any discussion about what kind of day today, or any other day, had been. And there it was again, that feeling that he was going to crawl out of his skin.

“Cecile!”

Damien heard the kitchen door open.

“Mr. Thorn?”

“If you cannot have dinner on the table at a decent hour, I can find someone who can.”

Delia slammed her empty glass on the table.

“Alright, that is it. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but you have been nothing but a prick to Xander and me over the past few days. That’s fine. But how dare you threaten Cecile! You didn’t call to tell anyone you’d be late. She waited for you, as did we.”

She was silent for a moment.

“And your son has nothing to say to until you apologize immediately to her …sooner if possible.”

He picked up the napkin that was on his lap, put it on his plate, and stood, making his way to the door that separated the formal dining room from the kitchen. Inside, he found her tidying up while the potatoes cooked.

“That was beyond unacceptable, Cecile. There is absolutely no excuse for my behaviour. I’m sorry.”

“Care to join me?”

He exhaled. “I think I need the ‘you need to be this tall to ride this ride,’ part of the park right now.” He held up his hand to his head.

“Let’s get them sorted out first.”

Damien prepared the salad and mashed the potatoes once they were done, adding the roasted garlic, butter, cream, and salt. They put most of the food in bowls and on plates and brought it out to the dining room.

“Is your son going to speak to you?”

“I apologized, and I’m going to eat in the kitchen. I’d like to speak with the pair of you after, but suffice it to say, I’m sorry for being…a prick to the pair of you the past few days.”

“We’re okay. Just take care of Cecile. That’s the woman who handles my bacon.”

Damien gave his son a thin smile. “Understood.”

Back in the kitchen, she had put food on two plates, and placed them on the table. She had paired the evening’s meal with a bottle of the Riesling.

“Salut.” 

“Salut.”

They toasted each other and Damien took a sip of the wine; she had chosen the 1990. It was beyond excellent.

“If I may, I would once again like to remind you why I continue to work for you.”

“Of course.”

“You pay me extraordinarily well. I get more than enough days off. More vacation time than anymore else I know. You are more than generous with anything I need…cars, trips, clothes, and for many people I know, that would be enough. More than all that, you have always treated me very well… treated me like family. 

“However, I stay because you treat your children like people. You don’t talk down to them; you always make time for them; you never push them away. You set boundaries for them because you care about their wellbeing. Nothing else you do is more important than being a father to those two sitting out there. You not only love them, you like them; and in return, they love and like you. Many people know how much you love your children, but when I’m in a situation where someone assumes that you must be a tyrant behind closed doors, I am always the first one to speak up and tell them that they’re wrong.”

“Thank you.”

“But you are also a single father. You know they say that when the plane is going down, you put on your own oxygen mask first because if you’re not okay, you can’t help anyone else.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “It’s that bad that we’re using an analogy of a plane crash?”

She laughed. “I don’t think you’re there quite yet. You work. Hard. You don’t really take time for yourself and when you do have any time off, you spend it with Delia and/or Alexander. At you’re your insistence, we’ve always spoken plainly with each other.

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you got laid?”

Damien paused, the mouth of the glass on his lips. He took a drink. “The fact that I had to think about it just may suggest that it has been too damn long.” A plan was already building itself in his head…it wasn’t exactly what Cecile had in mind, but it would most definitely do the trick. “If I may, I would like to plan a day for you tomorrow.”

“You don’t…”

“Yes. I do. Xander refused to speak to me until I apologized to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. They love you.”

He had gotten up and retrieved a note pad and pen from the kitchen drawer. He returned to the table and hurriedly jotted down some things. He passed it to her. “I know it’s a lot.”

“I could probably do with the breakfast, shopping, and dinner.”

“Are you sure?’”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll arrange it. Just let me know when you want the car to pick you up. Before you leave, take the house credit card with you.”

“Damien…”

“Take it. Really. Buy yourself whatever you want.”

“You’ll be okay for tomorrow?”

“I’ll manage breakfast. Take the next day off, too. The kids and I will play hooky…eat some junk food and gorge ourselves on take-away.” He took another bite of his food and gave her an appreciative smile. “Cependant, le poulet, comme d'habitude, est parfait.”

“Merci. To our days off.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They clinked their glasses, and as he ate, Damien was already working out what he would need for tomorrow…

Once everything was cleaned up, and Cecile had left, indeed taking the house credit card with her, and he had arranged for a car and driver for her tomorrow, Damien found his children in the den watching television. They muted the volume when he came in.

“Again, I want to say that I am sorry for my short temper over the past couple of days.” He took a seat on the couch.

“Is everything okay at work?”

“Everything is fine at work, Xander. And I’m especially sorry I took it out of Cecile. I’m treating her to a day tomorrow, and the day after that.”

“Well, if work is okay…don’t take this the wrong way, D-man, but you need to get laid. It can’t always be you and your trusty right hand.”

“Ew and gross, Xander.”

“Alexander Thorn…”

“We’re ten, not five. We get that lack of sex makes adults cranky. Delia, I and Cecile are going to be out of the house tomorrow. You can bring her here and get up to all kinds of shenanigans.”

Delia snorted. “Oh, there’s going to be shenanigans, alright.”

“I’m up for a movie, if you both are.”

“Quality time with the D-man? You bet.”

He chose a comedy, something funny that the kids would also enjoy. He sat back down on the couch, and Delia sat beside him, lifting his arm, and putting it around her. Xander lay at the other end of the couch, but his outstretched feet were on his lap. Damien smiled, shut off the light, and let his children’s peaceful state relax him…

Once the movie was done, everyone retired up to bed. Delia and Xander were apparently spending the night on her bedroom floor.

“So, it’s the pair of you off to school tomorrow. I have a plan for us for once you both get back and the day after that.”

“Why don’t you make an appointment for Cecile at a salon…a super expensive one! She’ll like that. Anna goes to the best one in the city…though I can’t remember what it’s called.”

“Will do and I appreciate the suggestion.”

“Maybe I need a trip to the salon, too.” Xander puckered his lips.

“Yeah, the doggie salon. Take the Milos; you can have some company.”

“We can’t all be naturally pretty like you, Delia.”

“Aww, thank you.” She picked up her pillow and hit him with it.

“Hey, I meant that.”

“I know you did. It was sweet. May I escort you across the hall, father?”

“When I send Delia back, come on over.”

“Okay.”

In his room, Delia followed him, closing the door behind her. He sat on the bed, and she sat beside him, turning to face him. “You’re going to bring a woman here tomorrow to rape, torture, and kill.” She sat beside him on his bed.

“Let’s call it…variations on a theme, but thems the breaks, and a most enthusiastic yes.”

“Do Alexander and I interfere with your ability to…”

“You and your brother interfere with precisely nothing. I forgot that we have…certain needs, and those needs need to be met on a regular basis or, in the words of your brother, we get cranky. My job takes up much more of my time than parenting the pair of you. It’s been a year since our talk. In that time, you’ve expressed to me certain…urges and feelings.”

“I can’t. Not without Xander.”

“Are you sure? There are going to be things that he’ll get to do that you won’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know anything about who he is. I can’t discuss it with him, so…”

“If you change your mind, you come talk to me and we’ll arrange something.”

She smirked at him. “It’s a very good thing I didn’t end up with the Yorks.”

“Why is that? As if I already didn’t know.”

“Because then I wouldn’t be able to fulfil every deviant and wicked whim I have.”

“And what wicked and deviant whims would those be, young lady?”

“Killing a certain someone who called me a whore.”

“Ah, yes, but Steve Paret was with your mind. You’ll find that there’s a certain je ne sais quoi involved with…getting your hands dirty.”

“I can wait.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Do you want the surprise now or later?”

“Now, please!” She jumped off his bed.

“When you come home from school tomorrow, take your stuff upstairs, change into your pajamas, come back down here and it’ll be movies, junk food, and take-out as far as the eye can see, and we keep it going to the next day. No school for the pair of you.”

“Thank you, daddy.” She hugged him.

“It in no way, shape, or form makes up for me being short tempered with either you or your brother.” He gave her a squeeze back.

“Xander and I will check in on you to make sure you are taking care of yourself.”

“I’m going to talk to your brother tonight. I know it’s technically your night…”

“It’s okay.” She laughed. “You just square things with Cecile, and he’ll be fine.”

“I came between Xander and his bacon. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“He’ll forgive you.” She took hold of the sides of her pajama top, pulled them out, and curtsied. “Goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, daughter. You can send your brother over.”

Chapter Text

Damien had made breakfast for himself and the children. He was plating everything when Delia came downstairs.

“Ugh. I’m starving.”

“Come with me for a minute?”

She followed him out of the main kitchen entrance out into the dining room, the family room and then the foyer. Tucked away past the stairs to the second floor was a door that led downstairs to a small basement. The door at present wasn’t locked, so she and Damien went down the five steps that led to another door, which again, for right now, was not locked.  

The door opened out into a rather short corridor. To the left was a bathroom with a shower; to the right, a hallway that led to the room in which they were now standing.

“I want you to look around.” 

The room was twenty by twenty, small in comparison to any other room in their home. The walls were tiled white but sealed with black caulking. The floor was painted a shiny dark grey and was slanted in the middle with a drain. There was also a standing mirror at one end of the room.

Along the back wall were cupboards, drawers, a sink and a countertop, not dissimilar to the kitchen upstairs. Delia smiled. Of course, these held items that were a little more interesting than plates, cups, and forks. For right now, a large, heavy plastic drop cloth was a fixed along the back in front of the cupboards.

There was a table, like one’s hospitals had to perform autopsies on. The sink worked and the table was also slanted so that water ran out of a hole that was at the bottom of the table.

She had of course seen the room before. Her father had shown it to her when they had talked about certain activities that he participated in that she could too, were she so inclined.

“Everything looks ship shape.”

“I want your exacting eye later. You tell me if anything is out of place. I also want you to understand that this is what it looks like once one of us is done down here. I don’t want to live in an abattoir.”  

“When does she get here?”

“In an hour and a half, give or take.”

“And that’s enough time for you enjoy yourself?”

“That’s not your problem to worry about. Okay?” He kissed her forehead.

“Okay.”

Back in the kitchen, he and Delia sat at the table just as Xander came into the kitchen.

“Good morning, pater.”

“Morning, filius.”

He sat and began his breakfast. “When does your…friend get here?”

“Once you and Delia are gone.”

“Whoever she is, I hope she can help make you less tense.”

“That makes two of us.” Damien took a drink of his coffee.

Once breakfast was done, he walked them to the door. Outside, Tom waited beside the car.

“The meal was more than passable, Mr. Thorn. I plan to do my breakfasting here again in the very near future.”

“Straight home after school.”

“Have a good day, D-man.”

“Right back ‘atcha, Xandman.” He hugged his son, who took off to the car. “You have a good day, too, Delia.”

“I will.”

She took the stairs two at a time, but then turned, walking backwards, grinning at him.

“I’d say don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but we both know I’d be lying. Have fun.”

She ran to the car and got in beside her brother. Tom gave him a wave, which Damien returned, and he got in the driver’s seat and left.

Inside the house, Damien closed and locked the door. He had been holding in his frustrations while the children had been here; now, he allowed his sexual wants to flow around him, a beautiful river that wanted to sweep him up in its violent currents.

He went into the kitchen to clean up the breakfast dishes. After a call to Anna Buher, he then made an appointment at Jardin de Beauté, the most expensive salon in the city, and booked time for Cecile for tomorrow, calling for whoever had driven her today to chauffer her again. He also called for a dinner reservation for tomorrow night at the new Japanese-French restaurant downtown that for anyone who wasn’t him had a nearly a year long waiting list to get into.

He got a pot of coffee ready to brew and put water in the kettle; he doubted she would eat anything. The next thing Damien knew, there were three dogs in the kitchen whining and even his dog, far more laid back than his children’s dogs, rubbed his head against his thigh.

He turned and leaned on the counter, throwing the dish towel over his left shoulder, crossing his arms across his chest. “What exactly is all of this?”

Delia’s Milo tilted his head at him, as if asking such a stupid question was pointless.

“And the three of you think you deserve…part of the plunder?”

Her dog now tilted his head in the other direction. As far as he was concerned, the Master of the house was now engaging in crazy talk because he was quite clearly a very good dog who was most definitely deserving.

“What about you two?”

Xander’s Milo jumped up and put his massive paws on Damien’s chest but wisely thought twice about giving the Master a sloppy kiss. Damien gave him a scratch behind the ears. Instead, he got down, and now there were three dogs sitting in a line, chests out, heads up.

“All three of you are very good boys. For now, upstairs. I’ll call you when you it’s time to get yours.”

With the near precision of a military parade, the three dogs calmly rose, turned, and exited the kitchen, no doubt taking up their usual spots in the upstairs hall when all three of them were together and meant to be out of the way.

He liked the hunt, in all its permutations, including the wait. To allow the person time to relax and let their guard down, especially the women, who thought that they were going to get a roll in the hay with Damien Thorn only to find out that they had been sadly mistaken.

But not today. He was on a schedule, and while there would be some delaying of his gratification, he would be moving through things as quickly as possible so that everything would be cleaned up by the time Delia and Alexander returned from school.

He felt it when the car pulled up onto the road that led to the house. Her name was Margaret, a woman whom he had met a dinner function and had given him her card with her contact info. They had gone out a few times, but nothing sexual had happened between them, though Damien knew that she had wanted things to happen. He had called last night, and she had eagerly agreed to come over.

She had driven herself to the house. Damien had used his special skills to make sure of that…also, that she tell no one where she was going. Later, the car would be taken away and disposed off.

Over the years, he had learned to let the situation guide him…to let the individual at his mercy, or lack there of, help him create the outcome. He had de-emphasized the mental aspect to Delia, but it was necessary to be able to gauge how best to make the person comfortable before making them less than comfortable. To build trust before he began, very carefully and deliberately, to erode it until the individual before him understood that they would not be getting out of the encounter alive.

He started the coffee and headed out to the foyer. There, he opened the door and waited as her car came up the driveway and watched as she parked the car and as she did so, he simply removed from himself any trace of mal intent, replacing it with a wide smile and pleasure at her arrival. His assessment of the situation had started last night, but he took in everything about her…

Clothing, shoes, and accessories all expensive and far more extravagant than was necessary for a morning/early afternoon assignation. She was a person of means, as was he, but when the visit was casual, he hardly ever showed up in clothing, shoes, and accoutrement that were valued in the tens of thousands of dollars.

At their core, what he and his children truly were, were hunters. What was his job at Thorn if not excelling in evaluating strengths and weaknesses and using it for his own gain? He was President and CEO of the single most successful business on the face of the planet…he was the apex predator and had learned to find, stalk, and kill his prey better than anyone else.

She came up the stairs, her smile matching his own, her sexual desire, delicate tendrils that preceded her.

Let the games begin…  

“Good morning, Damien.”

“Good morning to you.” He kissed her cheek. “I hope the drive in wasn’t too much?”

“I missed most of the traffic, thankfully.”

Inside the house, he took her jacket and hung it up in the closet. “I thought we could take coffee or tea in the living room, but we can start in the kitchen.”

This was her first visit here. Her money and home were impressive, but nowhere near the status of the house she was in now. He cocked an eyebrow as she continued to look around.

“Is there something?”

“Just wondering where everyone else was.”

“I have a cleaning company that comes in four times a week. Cecile, my cook, is here every day. She also performs light housework, but she leaves at the end of the day. I have people for important functions. This is my and my children’s home and I prefer it stay that way. I can offer you a tour if you’re up for it.”

“I’d love one, thank you.”

They started upstairs, and as they made their way around the house, he could tell she was redecorating…deciding what would stay or go should she somehow find herself the future Mrs. Damien Thorn. He led them back downstairs to the kitchen.

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.”

She did not come into the kitchen proper, instead choosing to stand beside the island on the side closer to the dining table.

“How do you take it?”

“Two creams, two sugars.”

He fixed their coffees, making his the same way as hers. He put the coffee pot and cream and sugar on a tray.

“I wasn’t sure if you would eat something. I have left over chicken pot pie, I can fix sandwiches, there is a selection of sweets…cookies, cake…”

“I’m sorry…leftovers?”

“When your daughter expects the chicken pot pie from the night before for breakfast the next morning and ends up in tears because it got trashed, you learn to revaluate food going into the garbage.”

“I plan to send whatever children I have to boarding school. Let them deal with temper tantrums and the like.”

“Shall we?” He held the door open for her as she made her way into the dining room and then out to the living room. He put the tray on the coffee table and sat beside her.

“I’m surprise you haven’t.”

“Haven’t what?” He watched as she took a drink.

“That’s very good…that might be the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

“I have my own plantation in Columbia. So far, it’s just for my own personal use.” With a smile, he took a drink of his own coffee.

“Why you haven’t sent your children away to school.”

“I wanted children. Why would I send them away? No one can do a better job of raising them, so why would I hand them over to someone else?”

“I suppose.”

The talked turned to upcoming cultural events that were happening in Chicago. Events that Damien had not yet decided with whom he would go.

“It’s being kept on the QT for now, but I may have used my influence to have myself and my home chosen to play host next year to the post festivities for the gala event for the Queen and Prince Phillip. No Queen, but there is more than a rumour that Prince Charles has already agreed to attend. I support more than a few of his charities. I don’t have anyone to host the event with me. I mean, if you’re interested…”

“I’d be honoured. Thank you.”

They were both at their zeniths…she enamoured at the possibility of meeting the heir apparent to the British throne, and he…Damien smiled…he was the most amicable host in the history of hosting.

“More coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

“You look lovely. All of this for little old me?” He turned to face Margaret, giving her his full attention.

“You’re hardly little old you, Damien Thorn.”

“I’m honoured. Thank you.”

Her sexual desire was at its peak. Were she someone other than a woman of privilege and means who held herself in emotional and physical check, she’d have tried to fuck him right there on the couch.

He reached out, letting his hand brush against hers, and began cycling down his good mood.

The question was how long it would take her to figure out that something was very, very wrong…

“You’ve never remarried?”

“Well, Kate and I were never married, but no, I’ve never met anyone with whom I’ve wanted to spend my life.”

“Not anyone?”

Now it was her turn to reach out and touch him. He smiled. “Not so far. I don’t get much of a chance to get out. Work and parenting take up most of my time. I have…other pursuits when I’m not occupied in either one of those endeavours.”

“What kind of pursuits? If I may ask.”

“That, my dear, is for me to know and you to find out.” He gave her a wink.

“I’d like to find out now.”

“Would you?”

“Very much.”

She was warm, as about as excited as she was going to get. Sometimes, there was something to be said for the disciples whom he fucked…sexual want and desire pouring off them in waves so thick he would have needed a chain saw to cut them. But for the most part, Damien didn’t kill them. It just looked bad as a recruitment tool if most of the ladies who returned from excursions with him were rather on the dead side…unless that was truly what they desired.

He got up, held out his hand and she took it. He led her to the stairs, and it took two risers toward their destination when she paused.

The first flicker that something was off…

“Yes?”

“Nothing…I just…nothing.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs where all three of the Milos snoozed away, not even lifting their heads as he approached.

“They’re fine.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Don’t like dogs?” They were in his room now, and he closed the door behind him.

“Not those ones.” She looked around. “Your room is very tasteful.”

“Thank you. It’s the second most personal room in the house. I spend a good deal of time in here. I believe that I should be comfortable in any part my own home.”

“Do you bring many women here?”

“No.”

“Nice to know I’m special.”

He let the sly grin spread across his lips like cold death. “Very.” He watched as she began to remove her jewelry.

“The bed is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Everything made its way over from England.” He ran his hand up one of the four posts. “Hand carved. The oak leaves represent strength and fortitude and considering I almost didn’t make it back from England as one who could be counted among the breathing, it was a rather fortuitously choice on the part of whoever built it.

“Also, given the serious of events that will shortly unfold between the two of us, very apropos for you to have noticed.”

Not quite there…

But she now paused and looked at him as her skirt slipped onto the floor.

“My children were conceived in this bed, and no, you will not be giving me children. It’s more the…how of their conception.”

And there it was.

It was now a question of whether she would try to get away. Women, who noticed first before men, but rarely did anything that could be perceived as offending their host…until it was too late. Men, who hardly ever noticed, but when they did, they bolted like a bat out of Hell.

“You see, Kate, much like you, was very keen to fuck me. Can’t say I blame either one of you. I am rather more than fuck worthy, if I do say so myself. The…circumstances around the sexual encounter between Kate and myself changed. What began as a mutual arrangement became rather one sided when I decided that what the future mother of my children was offering me wasn’t exactly what I wanted.”

He watched as her eyes went to the door, pleading for it to open of its own accord.

“And I am talking about rape, and in your case, sadly, you will not be leaving this house alive. Nothing personal, I hope you understand, but I had an itch to scratch, and well…”

She took off, her hand on the knob and faster than any person should be able to move, Damien was at her side, his arms around her waist, turning her and walking so now she was, front first, against the post near the foot of the bed. He took her arms and raised them above her head, his left hand holding them in place.

“Please…”

“You came dressed in about thirty thousand dollars worth of clothing and jewelry. Do you know why? Because you want to emphasize our sameness. That you and I come from a certain class and that that makes us alike, which we are most definitely not. If we’re the same, then you are safe which you are most definitely not.”

She used her emotional distance as a shield…he could overwhelm her with his needs and wants…with violence the likes of which she had never even imagined, but that would basically short-circuit her mind and he wanted her present. As calm and rational as she had been, and as she was now, even as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of her own violation and mortality, so would he remain calm and rational.

“Chanel N⁰5 has always been one of my favourites. Classic. Timeless. However, the scent underneath that? The fear? I can smell and taste that, and that I prefer so much more because it’s who you are in this in this precise moment in time.”

He wasn’t driven by intense sexual release as he had personally seen with men in the exact same position as he was in now, and perhaps that had everything to do with the fact that he could literally taste her fear and that for him had always been more important than the sex. The only part of him touching her was his hand holding her arms above her head, but that would now change.

With his right hand, he removed her panties and she now stood, her back to him, naked. With deliberate slowness, he began undressing himself, carefully tossing his shirt onto the bed. He had worn no briefs when he had gotten dressed, though now as he kicked his pants out of the way to free his legs, he realized that might have been a mistake.

And Damien Thorn could now feel an upsurge of fear so strong, he could tell the dogs, who had still been in a relaxed state sleeping outside his door, were now up on their feet. She braced herself against the floor and pushed against him.

“Sorry, love. A for effort, though.”

He got control of her and moved her so that she was now standing in front of the bed.

“Please don’t.”

He moved her forward and Margaret had little choice but to move with him, and now she was laying across his bed, his left hand still holding her hands above her head as he straddled her, leaning forward.

He was not yet hard and looking down at Margaret wasn’t doing it for him. However…

He had been in fine form that day and night Kate and had put in genuine effort with her and had done his best to impress her and…well, woo her, if he were honest. He had been able to keep up the charade right up until the intercourse had started…after that…he smiled and looked down at Margaret, her shoulders moving from her crying…so much like that night…a very long night indeed if he remembered correctly…at least for Kate, anyway…

He was inside of her in one motion, moving against her, switching his hand position so that she was now pinned to his bed with each of her wrists in one of his hands. He had no plans to be as violent with the sex as he had been that night with Kate, but he would more than make up for it downstairs.

He had had no idea all those years ago how much his life would change simply because he had wanted children. Ten years on and he was the king of his castle, more successful than any other individual on the face of the planet and while he had once told Paul that he ‘didn’t want to be a family man,” he was, in fact, one, with two children whom he loved and adored, and a Father who had given him a purpose…a purpose, that as it was turning out, he was fulfilling better than anyone else who had come before him.

He was unstoppable…unkillable…the Unsinkable Damien Thorn, as someone had called him after the whole debacle with Schroder and the Aswan Dam had come and gone with zero repercussions for himself. With a groan, he came, spilling himself inside of her…so close to feeling like his old self.

With a self-satisfied grin, he pulled out of her, sitting back so that he was resting against the back of her thighs.

“Damien…”

He reached down and yanked her up by her hair, pulling her so that she was now, like he was, standing by the bed.

He opened the bedroom door and walked her past the dogs, all of three of whom were standing up, but would not move until otherwise told. 

Down the stairs, around the corner to the first door, and then down the stairs, and to the right. Whatever hope she had had that he had been exaggerating or lying that she would not make it out of the house alive dwindled to ash and she started screaming, attempting to break free from his grasp, but to no avail.

He brought her to the standing mirror.

“You really do look lovely. I’m guessing that you’ve never been more aware of your life and existence than right now.”

“Please…I’ll do anything just…”

“No bargaining today, I’m afraid. With work and life in general, I’ve been ignoring my…pursuits, as it were, and my children have been suffering for it, and that can’t happen ever again.”

Normally, he’d fuck her right her, watching as it happened, but there wasn’t time. He reached over to the instrument tray and picked up the straight razor.

“I’m sure red looks very becoming on you. Let’s find out.”

With the skill of a surgeon, he put the absolute perfect amount of force behind the sliding of the blade across her cheek bone and he watched as slowly, the blood came to the surface, breaking the skin and running down her face to her jawline.

He already knew that he would be ravenous with sexual want when it was all done, and he’d have no choice but to seek his own release, but it was at times like these that he wanted nothing more than to have a mate…an equal…someone with whom he could share the afterglow and the pair of them would fuck each other into complete exhaustion.

He gave her a matching cut on the other side and now a thin sheet of red ran down and spilled onto her shoulders.

With his mind, he reached inside and upped her blood pressure to near dangerous level…any higher and she would have a stroke on the spot.

Damien turned her so that she was facing him.

“Sorry that our time together was so short. I’m on a bit of a schedule and it has been some time since I’ve done this so I’m a bit rusty vis à vis my time management skills.” He gently kissed her cheek, tasting her blood on his lips.

Her held her hands in front of her and with his right hand, he brought the blade across her throat with a fair amount of pressure and was met with what he had wanted…a spray of blood across his face, the warmth of it even now cooling against him, making his skin feel taunt in the places where it was drying.

He held her around the waist, turning her back towards the mirror, so that he was now bearing most of her weight, which would shortly become all of it. She was still struggling against him, but each passing second made her less frantic than the moment before it until she was relaxed in his arms.

“Don’t we make a lovely couple?” He rested his head on her left shoulder, using his left hand to keep her head up, though he doubted that she was really seeing anything in the mirror.

He could feel the steady decline of her heart rate, the irregularity of her heartbeat, the silencing of the rush of blood pounding through her veins…

“Goodbye, Margaret.”

He was ready and caught her before her dead body could hit the floor and he lifted her up and put her on the table.

He washed his hands but left the blood on his face, and once he dried his hands, he found the instant camera, aimed it at the mirror, and took a picture. He shook it and it developed into a phot of himself with a charming smile, and a not too insignificant amount of blood that now covered the lower part of his face.

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

On the counter behind the sheet, which it turned out that he hadn’t need, was a bottle of red wine and a glass. He poured himself a measured amount, savouring the hints of cherry and vanilla as he swallowed.

“Alright. Let’s see if we still have the touch.”

With the scalpel that was on the instrument tray, he made an incision in Margaret from her throat down to her navel, wiping away the excess blood with a towel. Next, he picked up the sternal saw, turned it on, donning the plastic visor as he did so. The last thing he wanted was for stray pieces of bone to find its way into an eye.

He wasn’t performing a heart transplant, so it wasn’t like he had to exhibit any care with what he was doing, so once the saw had done its work, he simply reached in, and spread her ribcage open.

He dried his hands, and picking up the scalpel again, he cut through the pericardium, removed her heart, and placed it on the instrument tray. Even in as a rush job, it wasn’t too bad. He tossed the visor on top of Margaret.

“Dr. Damien Thorn, Surgeon-at-Large. Cheers.”

He finished whatever wine was in the glass and washed and dried his hands. He picked up the camera and took pictures of whatever he thought might interest Delia, though she would not be seeing the one he had taken of himself. She was in no way obliged to look at them but considering that there wouldn’t be anything left of Margaret by the time the kids got home from school, better safe than sorry.

The experience hadn’t been perfect, mostly because he would have liked more time, but it had gone off without a hitch, and as usual, he took it as a learning experience.

He admired his naked form in the mirror. More than not bad for someone who was going on 43. He was still fit, and had recently taken up at the club again, which meant squash, racquetball, and tennis on a regular basis. He let the enjoyment of the experience fill him…every moment…from the phone call last night until he had taken the final picture, one of Margaret’s face, and by the time he turned on the shower in the bathroom, he was hard.

More than once, he had tried to fuck someone after the fact, innocent and disciple alike, but it wasn’t the same, so he had learned over the years that it would have to be he alone who got himself off.

He let the water wash away the blood of off his face, then leaned his forehead against his left arm which was resting on the tile under the shower head and took himself in hand. The hot water pounded against his back and as he watched the water at his feet turn red and then pink foam swirled down the drain. He could still feel her, as if her heart existed inside of him. He knew that that sensation would fade, but for right now, he sank into the experience and allowed it to move through him.

He had forgotten how good this all felt…the planning, the details, the execution…exquisite from start to finish.

He didn’t dwell on the release of his pleasure, there was shit that needed to be done, but the orgasm clenched his toes against the porcelain.

“Fuck.” He heaved a sigh of relief and leaned against the cool tile. He felt a heaviness lift from him. Not all of it, but most of it and he felt himself. He grinned in the steam and reached down and shut off the water and the shower. He quickly grabbed two towels, one of which he wrapped around his waist, the other he used to dry his hair, which he was doing when he went back out into the room that now looked like it had seen a surgery gone very wrong.

Once he was back in his bedroom, he finished drying off, combed out his hair, and threw briefs and on a pair of grey fleece gym pants and a grey Thorn Industries t-shirt. He made a call and now a van was on its way to the house to clean up. He picked up her purse, clothing, and jewelry and took them with him to wait for the crew to show up.

However, before Damien went downstairs, he made his way up to the Chapel. Inside, he felt the familiar warmth and he suddenly found himself deliciously tired.

“Thank you, Father, as always for what you give. Thank you for Margaret. I serve You with gratitude and love in all I do.”

He stood in silence for a few moments, then made his way with Margret’s belongings, which he left by the front.

He was in the kitchen when he knew that the van…and another car had pulled up onto the road leading to the house; there was no need to wonder who had driven the other vehicle. He put on fresh coffee, went out to the foyer, and opened the door to find Thomas directing the three men and three women who had turned up.

“Received a message that a cleaning crew had been sent out. No other info was attached to the job. Curiosity got the better of me to see if your…afternoon tryst helped your mood.” He stood aside as the small but efficient crew made their way into the house and proceeded down the stairs. “You already look more relaxed.” He had lit a cigarette and handed it to Damien, who took it.

“I feel it.” He took a drag of the cigarette. “Sorry about the shitty mood I’ve been in of late.”

Thomas laughed. “I’ve dealt with shittier moods than that. I’m guessing the Wonder Twins will be more relieved than I am that their father is back to his normal affable self. Speaking of kids, Caroline wants to know if you all would care to come to dinner on Saturday.”

“I’d call that a plan. Mind supervising while I take the dogs out?”

“Go for it.”

“Give me about an hour.”

He watched as Thomas followed the others and smiled, looking up the stairs.

“I thought I had three good boys who were deserving of some plunder.”

There were people in the house, so the dogs, ever aware of their role of guardian of the Antichrist and his children, calmly made their way down the stairs and out to the kitchen. Damien threw on a pair of boots, grabbed a jacket, made himself a coffee, which he took with him, and went outside, the dogs joining him. Once away from the house, the Milos chased each other, barking, and nipping at each other’s heels.

Damien smoked his cigarette, and it didn’t take long until two men arrived carrying what was left of Margaret. They rather unceremoniously unwrapped her on the grass, took the tarp that had held the body, and returned to the house, leaving Damien a canvas bag, in case there was anything left.

He let the dogs have first take of her, and once the Milos were done, he sent the message to the various predators that dinner was served, and it didn’t take long until the coyotes and foxes who inhabited the woods answered the dinner bell. But it would take more help than that to help dispose of the body and soon, bobcats and cougars arrived to partake. At first, he thought he was mistaken, but smiled when a large female grey wolf came out of the woods, clearly confused, but appreciative, by the summons to the free feast. There were more animals than normal, but he chalked it up to the fact that it was late September, and food would be hard to come by in a few of months.

“Okay, Milos. I will take the wolf, but it is on you three to make the others understand that the price of the meal is that the once and former Margaret Billingsley disappears as much as possible. Are we clear?”

His dog let out a chuff, and the three of them made sure that whenever the animals left, they each took something with them.

But Damien wasn’t quite done. Next, squirrels, skunks, and chipmunks arrived to eat and carry away what they could, and just over an hour later, nothing was left, not surprising considering all the guests that had turned up.

“I guess you can call me Cinderella. Job very well done, you three.” He sat on his haunches and the wolf came over to him, gave him a sniff, and then licked and nibbled his face. “Well done you, as well.” He gave her some scratches behind the ears, and then as quick as she had arrived, the wolf took off to the woods, back to wherever she had come from.

His children’s Milos ran back to the house, and he walked back, his own dog by his side. Thomas was in the kitchen drinking coffee and had helped himself to some cookies and a piece of cake.

“Well, if it isn’t Damien Thorn.”

“I feel like myself. I have calls to make to get groceries delivered and then the kids and I are going to relax for tonight and tomorrow.”

“You know…if you need more time with things, just send Junior and the Xandman over to our place for the weekend.”

“I may just take you up on that…sooner rather than later. Why don’t you take tomorrow off? Do something with Aaron.” Damien put his coffee cup in the sink.

“I think I will. Ever try to get Paul to take a day off?”

Damien laughed. “Paul Buher take a day off on a whim? Hell would freeze over first.”

“Fabulous nosh as usual.” Thomas rinsed his dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “I’ll see you day after next.”

“I will. Have a good day off tomorrow.”

He closed the door behind Thomas and went downstairs, where the cleaning process was wrapping up. While that was going on, he gave the place a going over; it looked as it had before he had brought Margaret down, but he would leave it up to Delia to give the final word on the matter. The cleaning crew made its way upstairs, and he followed leaving the doors closed but unlocked.

In the foyer, Damien grabbed her jacket that he had hung up in the closet, handing it to the person who had gathered up all of Margaret’s other clothing, including shoes.

“I need her car keys, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes. Purse?”

The man with the items handed him Margaret’s bag, and he found her keys, turning to the very attractive woman who stood there, a less than subtle smile aimed in his direction…he could feel her every lust-fuelled desire for him. He gently dropped the keys into her waiting open hand.

“Thank you, Brianna.”

“Trust me when I say, it is always my pleasure, Mr. Thorn.”

He watched the sway of her hips as she walked past him and then outside and down the stairs to Margaret’s Mercedes. She got in, beeped the horn, and then pulled out of the driveway, out onto the private road, and then she turned right and was gone.

The others took their gear, Margaret’s clothing, including shoes and jewelry, and left, earning their substantial pay. Besides the executives and department heads, no one else made as much money as the clean up crews at Thorn, Damien made sure of that.

Feeling normal for the first time in weeks, he went into the kitchen, called the grocery store, and put in an order for not only ingredients to make burgers and lasagna for tomorrow’s meals, but for what he figured was about a few of everything in the candy aisle. He also asked that the delivery person stop at Frescos to pick up frozen custard for Xander and pistachio ice cream for himself.

It was a quarter to four when two people arrived with what turned out to be six bags of junk food and snacks, along with two bags of actual groceries for tomorrow’s meals. The ice cream and frozen custard went into the freezer and anything else perishable went into the fridge.  He left the other bags on the counter to let the children put their candy and snacks away how they decided everything should be organized. Or, to be more precise, how Delia decided everything should be organized.

He called Vittorio’s and ordered two pizzas, which would be delivered in about an hour; he figured that would give him time to talk to his daughter about some things.

“So, did the Milos enjoy their day?”

Tiny tails wag and three massive heads nudged his thigh.

“Good to hear.”

There was a time when after the expenditure of this much energy would have meant an early dinner and then off to bed to recoup from the festivities in order to get a good night’s sleep. He smiled as he made his way to the foyer. It would be a good night’s sleep tonight, but that rest would be further earned with some quality family time, junk food, and take-out.

The three dogs followed him, and the Antichrist took a seat on the steps and waited for his children to come home.

Chapter Text

It was four-thirty when the front door opened; but instead of coming all the way in the house, the children both paused after closing the door behind themselves.

“Wow.”

He smiled at his son. “Is it that obvious?”

“You can feel it the second you walk in. It feels…less heavy in here.”

He looked over at Delia, who nodded her head in agreement.

Damien stood. “So, young man, upstairs. Leave your bag, put on your pajamas, if you want, and await further instructions.”

“No homework first!?”

“No homework first.”

“Hot damn!”

He took the stairs two at a time with his dog at his heels.

“Come on.”

Downstairs, the first thing that hit her was the heavy smell of cleaning product. Stronger than what was used in the upstairs. But, then again, the people who showed up to clean their home weren’t trying to get rid of blood and anything else that might have ended up on the basement floor.

She walked around the room. The thick, plastic tarp that had been along the back wall was no longer there. She picked up objects, opened the drawers, examined the mirror, ran her fingers along the caulking and then pulled her hand away and looked at it. Nothing. The room, and everything in it, looked exactly as it did before. But…

“I can taste it…feel it…smell it…if that makes sense.”

“It does. Delia?”

She turned around and faced her father. In his hand, he had instant photos.

“I took pictures because I thought you might be interested, but you are in no way, shape or form expected to look at them. Or if you look, and it bothers you, you can hand them back. No judgement. Ever.”

The human body held approximately five quarts of blood and when it came to whoever this woman had been, every drop of it appeared to have been left in their basement. When she had killed Steve Parret, she had done so with her mind, and it had caused a thin trickle of red to run out of his nose. This had been a literal bloodbath.

She re-examined the autopsy table, which gleamed in the overhead lights that surrounded it. She lowered her head, examining every place where blood could easily become stuck. But there was nothing.

With deliberate care, she went through each picture...the bloody basement floor, a blood-splattered tray with a scalpel, a straight razor, and a towel that had once been white, but now looked like it had been dyed red. There were shots of the woman…a close-up of her hand, one of her foot, another of her chest where her father had opened her up, and one of the heart that he had cut out of her.

“We have a sternal saw?”

Damien held up the first three fingers of his right hand. “Much like the Scouts, I believe in being prepared.”

The last picture was a close-up of the woman’s face. Delia could get fairly pale in the winter months, but this…the woman hardly seemed real, but open eyes looked out blankly at her. Delia smiled as she ran her hand over the now empty spot, nearly being able to feel the woman’s body.

“What was her name?”

“Margaret.”

“Thank you, Satan, for Margaret.” She locked eyes with him. “I can do this one day?”

“Thank you, Satan, indeed, and yes, I did my sonly duty in the Chapel. Yes, you can.”

“I can wait.”

“If you can’t, you come talk to me. And everything else?”

“If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t think that anything…untoward had gone on. You look like the proverbial cat who ate the canary.”

“Well, it was the Milos who did the eating, but…I feel.” He grinned and stretched. “Like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. Mind if we have a chat?”

“Of course not.”

He watched as she hoisted herself onto the counter that ran across the back wall. He got himself up and sat beside her.

“I know you’re worried that your brother won’t want to participate in.” He smirked. “Let’s call it the family hobby, but I can pretty much guarantee that that won’t be the case.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because since you found out who you were, you, like me, have been paying closer attention to him.”

“Yes.”

“You’re aware when he’s using his skills. When he’s manipulating someone to get what he wants, so I’d like you to tell me about that.”

“He likes it…more than likes it. It’s like when he’s looking forward to that first forkful of bacon and his eyes roll back in his head…only his reaction is more subtle than that.”

“That’s because he still chooses to ignore things that are…odd about himself, but precisely.”

“He likes the getting of whatever he wants, but he likes the act of doing it. It’s like a part of him prefers to get what he wants that way.”

“I’d agree with that, but I think it depends on his mood. So, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you do realize that going into someone’s mind in the first place without someone’s permission, then trying to get that person to do something that they might not do on their own is a form of rape.”

“But that’s with his mind.”

“When you did what you did to Benjamin Patterson, I paid very close attention to you after that. On the way home, I could tell that your mind kept going back to hurting him…you were worried, but you kept replaying it in your mind…wanting to keep getting that…hit from what you had done.” He smiled. “In your case, that first forkful of chicken pot pie. The next day, there was a sadness from you…a pining…a want to do it again. What you did to Benjamin, that was with your mind, but here we are, down here, very much focused in the physical.

“We spoke quite a bit after you and I had our conversation about what you went through and finding out about who you really are. I told you that when the so-called god removed Lucifer from the so-called heaven, he bound Him to Earth; meaning that Lucifer was now a being with wants and needs. It was meant to make Him weaker, but what it did was make Him closer to people, so while, no, humans don’t generally come from jackals, they generally come from an act of copulation.

“Then there is us. We also are tied to the physicality of this planet. We get hungry and aroused, and we feel aggression stronger than people do. The older you get, the less you will feel it, but it’s there, and while Xander’s true calling is his mind, I don’t think he’ll be exempt from doing a bit of the old ultra-violence as it were.”

“Do you wish that he was here with you?”

“It has been a very enjoyable and surprising experience over the past ten years to watch how my children are both alike and different from me.  With Xander, I share my easy way with people, the ability to get people to do things they might not on their own, we’re both male, and of course, being Antichrist one day.

“You and I share a love of solitude, knowledge, and the nose to the grindstone and shoulder to the wheel mentality of working. Even when the nazarene was inside my head and the stress that he had been born, and trying to deal with all of that crap, I never let that interfere with getting my work done, neither with running Thorn, nor being Ambassador.

“But for whatever reason, you and I also share the attraction to the physical side of pain. So why would I wish I was sharing this with someone for whom it doesn’t click the way it for does us? I go into people’s heads, so did you, but for us…we need to get our hands dirty.

“It was the opinion of the house that I needed to get…well…” Damien cleared his throat. “In point of fact, I was…with someone last week. We met, we did our thing, and she’s alive and well. And even if I had just forced myself on Margaret, and then made her forget what had happened and just let her go…give it a day or two, and I would have been right back to where I was yesterday.”

“I see.”

Damien could sense a sadness from her. “You understand that we aren’t done, right?”

“Oh.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Deedle. I wanted to make sure you really understand that this is what it needs to look like down here after we are done. And to share with you…to help you understand that it’s okay to get your needs met when it comes to this.

“I’m going to speak to Xander now, and tomorrow will be our night to talk. I really do want to spend time with the pair of you…to make things right between us. The added benefit is that our time together takes the edge off the experience and makes it easier to talk about. So, I will give you complete run down of everything that happened.”

“Everything?”

“I won’t go into detail about the sex, but I think there are some things about force and coercion that would be beneficial for you to understand.” He smiled. “You know, I feel terribly guilty for being a jerk over the past few days. If there’s anything you want, now would be a great time to ask.”

“When the time comes, can we do something together? Just the two of us?”

“That was always a plan, but now it’s a guarantee. You come up with something and we go from there.” He got down stood in front of her. “First, I’m sorry that you had to say anything to me at all. It’s not your place but thank-you…and thank-you for defending Cecile. Second, it’s not your job to…watch me to make sure I’m okay.”

“But we’re family; we watch out for each other. We have each other’s backs.”

“I can’t disagree with that, but I’m the dad. That means it’s not only my job to check on myself, but to keep an eye on you and your brother.” He held out his hands to her.

“I can get down on my own.”

“Humour your father, please.”

She took his hands, and he helped her down, and together they shut down all the lights and this time, Damien locked both doors. On the first floor, he grabbed her backpack, and they pair of them were joined by hers and her father’s dogs and they made their way upstairs.

“Did my boys have fun?”

Both dogs barked, and even her father’s dog, much more reserved than either hers or her brother’s, was excited.

“I hope Cecile had a good day.”

“I hope so, too. She decided where she wanted to eat for dinner tonight, but for tomorrow, I made a reservation for her at La Bonne Sakura.”

“It sounds fancy.”

“I’ve heard good things. I haven’t been there yet, but I trust her, and if she says it’s worth it, then I’ll go.”

“What are you going to do with the pictures?”

“Destroy them after our conversation, but I promise to take pictures every time. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Though…huh…we have a video camera. Won’t that be something to sit back and watch with some popcorn.”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m going to chat with your brother.” He paused. “If I was lacking in the fathering department, you’d tell me, yes?” He put her bag on the floor of her room.

“Of course, and you aren’t. How can I be mad or upset when you let your own wants and needs slide because you were too busy with us.”

“No more sliding. Promise. If you feel like it, change into your pajamas.”

“I’ll be on the steps.”

He went back out into the hall and knocked on the door to his son’s room.

“Enter.”

His son’s room was perpetually untidy. He would usually make a comment, but for today decided to let it go.

“I thought we could have a talk now instead of later. I know it’s two nights in a row, but I have things I need to talk about with Delia tomorrow.”

Xander sat on the bed beside him.

“I’m going to give you a piece of personal information about myself that you will not share with your sister.”

Xander pulled an imaginary zipper across his lips.

“Trusty left hand.”

“But you’re right-handed.”

“It’s not unusual for a guy to…accommodate himself with the hand he’s not usually dominant with.”

“Huh.”

“I never would have thought to tell you something like that. To me, it’s just…obvious. So, anything, and I mean anything about sex that you have concerns or questions about, you come talk to me. With your body, with things you might be thinking or feeling.”

“I don’t have any feelings yet about sex. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay. You’re going to start going through puberty soon. Whatever is going on…you have friends, and guys talk shit. We brag and we lie, but you come talk to me if there is anything you need to sort out.” He paused. “Huh. I guess I was your age when Mark and I found Richard’s Playboys by accident.”

Xander laughed. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t think anyone ever turned a redder shade of red than the pair of us did than when we were looking at those pictures.”

“I’m guessing that changed.”

“When we were twelve, we got them on purpose.”

“Did you know girls your own age didn’t look like that?”

“I don’t think enough of the blood in our bodies was rushing in the direction of our brains to have given that a lot of thought.”

“I don’t feel a need to…look at women in a magazine. Not yet anyway.”

“And that’s okay. I don’t have a stash of pornography, so, it would have to be something I get for you. And once sex really does become about things you want to do and things you want done to you…it doesn’t matter what you want, or think about, or what floats your boat, it’s all fine. You can come talk to me, day, or night. Nothing I’m ever doing is more important than you or your sister.”

“Just don’t get cranky again.”

“I won’t. It’s going to be something I pencil into my calendar.”

“Getting laid…it falls in between the meeting with Mergers and Acquisitions and Research and Development and that pretty much takes up my knowledge of what happens at Thorn.”

“Pretty much. I really am sorry.” He smiled. “You defended Cecile. That was very sweet of you.”

“It was purely mercenary on my part. That woman takes care of the only needs I have right now, and those are the ones concerning my stomach, but yeah, it was sweet. We just had our first guy talk.”

“That we did, and there are plenty more where that came from. And as weird as it sounds, I’m looking forward to them, just like I’m looking forward to teaching you to shave, and drive, and give you advice about girls and women.”

“I really am happy that you feel better. You’re…the head of the house. How you feel has an effect on all of us. I think I was feeling more than a little off…Delia, too.”

Damien was silent for a moment. “I never thought about it like that. I now consider it part of my fatherly responsibilities to keep up with my…shenanigans. I’m going to change. Your sister is sitting on the steps.”

“Toodles.”

Damien went to his room to change, looking forward to spending the next day and a half with his children…

Delia sat, her arms wrapped around her knees, when Alexander came strolling over, whistling.

“You’re very jaunty and whistling a happy tune.”

“I feel jaunty and whistly. Father and I just had our first talk about personal guy things.”

“Xander!” She jumped up and hugged him. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks.”

They both sat, waiting for Damien.

“Are these one of the times that you wish you had a mother?”

“Yes.” She smiled at him. “I’m happy for you because you have someone to talk about sex and to help you through puberty. I’m kind of stuck with Anna, but I’ll manage. I’m glad to have Damien for other reasons.”

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I really thought this whole change into your pajamas thing was a scam to get me to clean my room.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and sat back against the wall to look at him. “Your room gets cleaned when I consider it unacceptable and when that happens, it won’t be a surprise, either. You’ll definitely know it.”

He looked at his dog. “Maybe I should clean my room. You feel better, too.”

She thought about it. “Yes. And you. His mood was rubbing off on us. I don’t feel so anxious as I had been.”

They both looked up when Damien came out of his room.

“Wowie!”

“No one told me it was fancy night attire. I feel so underdressed.” Xander looked down at what he was wearing. “Though I thankfully gave up pajamas with fire trucks on them.”

Damien had put on a pair of dark grey silk pajamas, embroidered with a light grey paisley pattern with a matching robe.

“Shall we?”

In the kitchen, the children gasped. On the counter, were bags full of every kind of junk food imaginable.

“Holy shit, Delia…”

“It’s like the snack and candy aisle exploded in our kitchen.”

Damien had no sooner let the dogs out, then the doorbell rang. “I got it. Look in the fridge.”

Inside the Thorn twins found dips, cheeses, and spreads. In the freezer, were five new flavours of ice cream.

“Yes, frozen custard!”

“Ew, Damien’s pistachio ice-cream.” Delia shuddered but clapped her hands when she saw the container next to it. “Yummy! Chocolate, chocolate fudge!”

They watched as their father came in with two large pizzas. They let the dogs in, who were now very aware of the fact that food had made a sudden appearance in the kitchen.

“There’s pizza for tonight, but I bought some things so we could make our own food tomorrow.”

Assorted snacks and drinks were brought out to the family room, but they went back to put the pizza on plates.

“I want to say something before…”

“Daddy, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. It was just very recently brought to my attention that I am the head of the house, and as such, I set the tone for everyone in it. The pair of you over the past few days have been…out of sorts, too. I feel it now, that there has been a…righting of the household. It should have never gotten as far as it did, and I’m sorry.”

“D-man, we can’t be mad at you when you give up so much of your free time to spend with us. We know kids who never see their parents. Their moms are too busy spending money, and their dads are too busy making it. You know everything that goes on with us…with school, in our personal lives, as limited as they are right now. And yet, you still ask how things are going. You check in with us on at least a daily basis. You make sure we start our day well, and make sure it ends the same way. And if you fuck up? Trust me that we will tell you, and we should have told you sooner that something was up. We don’t like when you’re…out of sorts anymore than you do. You’re not our father when that happens. It’s like there’s a…disconnect between us and we don’t like that.”

He put his arm around Xander, pulled him close, and kissed his temple.

Delia opened a can of soda. “To shenanigans.”

Damien smirked, opening a can of club soda, taking a drink. “To shenanigans, indeed. Okay, let’s go. The night isn’t going to recklessly waste itself.”

With the dogs trailing after their respective Masters, hoping for some stray goodies to find its way into their mouths, the trio headed out to the family room…

…666…  

Damien came out of his room dressed for work. Surprisingly, he found both of his children waiting to accompany him downstairs for breakfast.

He put his jacket over his left arm. “Sleeping Beauty up without anyone having to run a jackhammer beside him…”

“I wanted to see if Cecile enjoyed herself.”

They made their way to the kitchen.

“Oohlala!”

“Cecile, you look gorgeous!”

“Thank you, Delia. Though I don’t know whether to be happy or angry with your father.”

“I would hope happy.”

“I was spoiled rotten. Champagne and chocolates, the good stuff, too, while I got my hair done, a massage, my nails done, waited on hand and foot…”

“Then it’s a standing appointment. Whatever services you want, you get them done on a regular basis. Do the pair of you mind eating in the formal dining room while I eat with Cecile?”

His children piled food on their plates.

“Xander, save some bacon for me.” He watched as his son pulled off one lone strip of bacon and put it back on the platter. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“There’s more where that came from.”

“It’s okay. There’s enough here.”

They put food on their plates and sat.

“And, Cecile, in case I didn’t make myself clear the other day, until you want to leave, you’re not going anywhere.”

They ate and chatted, eventually sitting back with their coffees.

“You do look and feel much better, Damien.”

“It was pointed out to me that I set the tone for the house. I won’t let things get pent up like that again.”

“I know how you feel about company, but…you might want to give some thought to having people over here who are over four feet tall. Even if it’s just Thomas or Paul for dinner every once in a while.”

“I will. You do look spectacular. I’m glad they treated you well.”

A sly smile crept across her mouth. “You think all of this is just a trip to the salon?”

“Cecile…do tell.”

“That was a very attractive driver who showed up to my home two days in a row. Smart, handsome. Old enough to know what he was doing…young enough to enjoy it.” She took a sip of her coffee. “More than once.”

“To us.”

“Indeed.”

The clinked their cups and finished their breakfasts…

“I’m off, and if I’m going to be late, I promise I will call.” She had walked him to the front door.

“I appreciate it. Thought I’d prepare Beef Wellington for dinner…in case anyone’s interested.”

"That would be me. I’m interested.”

“You have a good day, Mr. Thorn.”

“You too, Cecile.”

Outside, he put his coat collar up. Damien wouldn’t have minded driving, but he was in an introspective mood and being able to watch the Chicago skyline come into view would help him prepare for the day. It was autumn, his favourite time of year. The crispness in the air, the smell of burning leaves, the thought of a roaring fire to come home to in the next few weeks, depending on the weather.

“Life, Mr. Thorn, is good.”

He got into the backseat, smiled, and sat back as he headed into the city.

Chapter Text

It was three-fifteen at Briarwood Academy which meant home time for most of the students. Delia had heard the bell, but chose to ignore it; instead, she remained in her seat finishing up her schoolwork until a girl with shoulder length blonde hair sat in the chair in front of her.

“What was up with Rhodes this afternoon?”

Delia shrugged. She had noticed but hadn’t been able to come up with an explanation as to why their teacher had been acting extra oddly since he had come back from lunch. “I haven’t a clue, Georgina, but he’s weird anyway.” 

“He’s been giving you looks sometimes. Gross.” She shuddered, thinking the unthinkable. “Anyway, the real reason I wanted to talk to you was to ask you if Alexander has asked anybody to the end of the year dance.”

Delia frowned. “I don’t think so, but are you wanting me to put in a good word for you?”

She laughed. “Could you, please?”

“Sure.”

Georgina stood. “Has anyone asked you, yet?”

“No.” If given a choice, Delia would choose bamboo shoots up her fingernails rather than go to the dance, but she kept her mouth shut so as not to offend her classmate

“Maybe Aaron will ask you.” She gave Delia a wink. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Georgie.” She watched her leave and then resumed her work.

Since the beginning of the school year, her brother had volunteered to help his homeroom teacher set up the classroom for the next day; while he did that, some days, like today, she stayed and finished up her useless school assignments which left more time at home to do whatever work that her father gave her.

She didn’t know how he did it. She could barely stand to participate in the extracurricular activities she did, and they were more fun than rearranging bulletin boards and the like. Of course, she had other pursuits that occupied her time when she was alone. She smiled to herself as she tried to hurry through her work. One day Xander would know who he was and hopefully he would join her, and she would show him what real fun was.

Delia was engrossed in her work when she heard someone clear his throat and when she looked up, her teacher was looking down at her.

“Uh, Miss Thorn, it’s three-thirty, you can go now.”

He gave her a shaky smile. She looked down and then back up again. “But I’m not done.”

“And I’ve got to get going, too.”

Delia got up from her desk and began to pack up her things. She didn’t understand. Usually, Mr. Rhodes didn’t mind when she stayed late, and she wondered if this had to do with how bizarre he had been today. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that you wanted to go.” She zippered up her backpack and put it on.

“It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

She could feel the weirdness again, plus a huge wave of anxiety and fear. Her classroom was on the third floor of the school, and she took the stairs two at a time to the first floor. Her first stop was her brother’s classroom, but it was dark and empty. Delia frowned. Both he and Mrs. Dixon should be here, but maybe something happened, and she had sent him home early. She made her way to the front doors, opened them, and was greeted by the early summer heat and the usual chaos of teachers trying to get kids organized to go home.

She made her way down the stairs to the area reserved for the picking up and dropping off of students and while there were many cars, theirs was not among them.

Delia walked out to the sidewalk in front of the school and turned right, checking all the cars that were parked on the road. She made it all the way down to the corner of the street and then doubled backed and did the same on the street to the left of the front of the school, but there was no car.

As far as she could remember, Tom had never been late picking them up, he was always outside waiting for the both of them. Maybe something had happened and her father, or Tom, had called the school and told them that he would be late, and she hadn’t gotten the message.

Delia went back into the school and back to her brother’s classroom. It was still dark, so she turned on the light. Maybe, he had left his things here and had taken off somewhere, but a quick search revealed nothing.

She shook her head. Screw this. 

Xander, where are you??  

There was no response from him, and the bottom fell out of Delia Thorn’s world.

NANDER!?  

But it was like someone had turned down the volume on him or had made him fuzzy.

As they got older, they realized that distance was no barrier to their ability to communicate with each other, so him not being with her wasn’t the reason why she couldn’t feel him.

Delia needed to remain calm, but each passing second was making that difficult. She was at a loss to do anything but make her way to the office to see if somehow, against all her better judgement, there had been some kind of a mix-up.

After she found out who she was, she had become obsessive in keeping her brother safe. Anyone who had so much as looked at him came under her unerring scrutiny. Damien, no doubt after Xander had gone to him, had spoken to her about being so vigilant in regard to keeping an eye on her brother and had told her to back off and because she had not wanted to keep pissing him off, she had listened to her father

However, now that there was only emptiness when she reached out to him, the likelihood that she would ever leave him alone again was slim to none and slim had just taken the last train out of town.

Once in the office, she went straight to the secretary. “Mrs. Cooper, I can’t find my brother and Tom isn’t here. Was there a message about someone else coming to get us?”

The secretary checked the bulletin board and shook her head. “Sorry Delia, no messages about a change in plans. Would you like me to page him?”

But there was no point. She knew her brother wasn’t here and that there had been no change in plans; he would have told her, in person or otherwise, that he was leaving without her. Why she couldn’t communicate with her brother was a mystery, maybe he had learned to block her out, but both Tom’s and Alexander’s absence was beginning to look like it could only be explained by one thing and Delia felt sick to her stomach.

“Mrs. Cooper, will you tell Ms. Coates to come out.”

“Delia...” 

“Please.”

The secretary phoned into the principal’s office and told her there was a problem and that she should come out at once, which she did.

Ms. Coates smiled reassuringly. “Hello, Delia, what...”

“Tom took my brother and...” with a gasp, her hand flew to her mouth as realization dawned on her.

One the first day of class, Delia had deemed her teacher safe and after that, she hadn’t given him anymore thought, but she thought about him now. He had been fine in the morning and had been his usual awkward self, making jokes that none of his students found funny. When class had resumed after lunch, however, whenever she had looked at him, he had looked away. She had picked up some weird emotions...fear, anxiety, shame. Delia had wondered if her teacher had developed some kind of a crush on her and she had considered arranging an accident for him, but she now understood why he been so strange.

“Mr. Rhodes was in on it! Whatever happened to my brother, Mr. Rhodes knew! He was acting oddly when he came back from lunch.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not the case. Maybe there was a mix-up, or maybe Alexander is somewhere in the school.”

Delia could feel a soupy mess of emotions bleeding off Ms. Coates, but first and foremost was not concern for one of her students; she was afraid of what this would do to her reputation and her job if it were true that Xander had been taken and her fear was now replaced with blazing rage.

When she was younger, Damien had taught her to control her temper and she now called on those skills in order to help her deal with what was going on. She began by taking everything that had to do with her brother and putting it in the box that Damien had taught her in those early days to visualize in order to harness her anger. To that box, she added her fury and impatience with Ms. Coates, otherwise her principal was in imminent danger of losing her life.

She needed to get her father here as quickly as possible. Theoretically, the quickest way to do it was to send a message, but it would be too full of emotion and would end up being more complicated than getting her father on the phone.

Delia turned to Ms. Coates and put herself inside the woman’s mind. She didn’t have much practice doing it with someone who wasn’t her brother, but it didn’t matter since the situation at hand didn’t call for a high degree of finesse. The second it happened the woman’s face went slack.

“Maybe if my teacher was involved then Alexander’s was too. Why don’t you check the school, you incompetent bitch.” 

Ms. Coates left the office to do what she was told. Delia would have liked nothing more than to send her out into the busy street to get run over by several cars, but she thought it best to let her father take care of anything like that. Next, she turned to Mrs. Cooper. “Leave.”

The woman rose and left the office and Delia didn’t care where she ended up.

She picked up the handset. She knew her father was in a meeting so calling him directly would be a waste of time. Instead, she called his secretary. It felt like an eternity before Michael answered the phone.

“Damien Thorn’s office.”

“I need to speak with my father; it’s an emergency.” 

“He’s in a meeting, Delia.”

But it wasn’t the answer that she wanted, and she had already had enough of Ms. Coates and her stalling; but with Michael, who knew exactly who Damien was, she could be more honest. “Get my father NOW or I will fucking end you where you sit!”

There was silence on the other end, and she knew that he was moving as fast as he could to get Damien, but it wasn’t fast enough as far as she was concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

The second she heard her father’s voice, she thought about not telling him and somehow handling this on her own. Not only because she knew that whatever had happened to her brother was a failure on her part as his protector but saying it out loud would make it real. She knew, however that not telling him wasn’t an option.

“Tom took Xander,” her voice quivered.

“Are you sure?”

“He’s not here, he’s not anywhere; he would never leave without telling me and I can’t feel him. It’s like someone turned him down. Can you feel him?”

“Are you in danger?”

He had paused and she now knew that her father couldn’t feel him either. “No and I can take care of myself.”

“Delia, I don’t want you doing anything. If you have to protect yourself, okay, but otherwise let me handle it and this isn’t your fault so don’t you dare blame yourself. I love you and I’m leaving now.”

“I love you, too.” She hung up the phone and as she made her way to the leather sofa in the office, she failed to heed her father’s advice and now began to stew in her own guilt. She removed her knapsack, sat, and waited for Damien Thorn to show up.

...666...

Damien hung up on his end. Who else was involved with this? He had spent time with Cecile this morning and had sensed no deception on her part. He picked up the phone and dialed the house. It took only moments for her to answer the phone.

“Good afternoon, Thorn residence.”

“Cecile, is Tom there?”

He had reached out to her for three reasons: to test whether she had been a part of this; if she hadn’t been a part of this, then he planned to send her to the school; and he hoped that somehow, someway, there had been a mix-up and Tom had delivered his son safely home.

“No, he should be on the way home with the children. What’s wrong?”

There was genuine concern and confusion in her voice and Damien watched as Thomas entered the office, ready to make a glib comment about his walking out of the meeting when the look on his face stopped him cold.

“Tom took Alexander.”

“Mon Dieu...what can I do?”

While Cecile wasn’t particularly religious, Damien could hear her crossing herself. “I’m sending a car to come and get you to bring you to the school.”

“Should I call the police?”

“No. I’ll handle that.”

“Would Xander’s Milo be of any use?”

“Couldn’t hurt. Be ready...”

“I’m ready now.” She hung up.

Thomas, who had heard what his boss had said, put his head out the door and told Michael to call Charles and Anna to the office and that it was important and then came back into Damien’s office and closed the door.

Thomas knew all the cops on the Chicago Police Department who were disciples, but was only interested in one: Trevor Pendleton, head of the precinct not more than two miles from where they were standing. Thomas explained the situation to Pendleton and told him to make sure that Tom’s car wasn’t in a ditch somewhere and to start putting men together, on the QT, to find Alexander and gave Trevor the address of the children’s school.

“And I’m warning you right now, no press. I’m going to have our people at the Sun-Times and the Tribune keeping track of this, and if they get wind that anyone has called in with a so-called anonymous tip, your head will fucking roll.” Thomas hung up the phone.

Charles McFadden and Anna Buher came in, a smile on her face which quickly disappeared once she could feel the somber vibe in the room. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Tom Evans took Alexander.” Thomas looked from Anna to Charles.

Anna strode to the desk, grabbed the phone and called Paul. Once she hung up on her uncle, she looked at Thomas. “We’re going to the school. Yes?”

Thomas looked at Damien, who nodded. In the hall, Damien stopped at his secretary’s desk.

“Take your car and drive to my house and get Cecile. She’ll have Xander’s dog with her, and then take her to the children’s school…and the next time my daughter calls and asks to speak to me, she had better not have to ask more than once.” 

“Yes. Of course.” Michael nodded and left to go do as his boss had ordered.

The executive floors at Thorn Industries comprised the top four floors of the building. Damien and Paul Buher, Thorn’s Vice-President, shared the top floor and he was waiting inside the executive elevator as his niece had asked. He moved aside as the others got on.

“I’ve already received a call from the head of legal that you walked out of the meeting.” Paul’s gaze went to everyone in the elevator.

Thomas spoke up, “Delia called Damien; she thinks Tom took Alexander. I’ve got the police making sure that Tom’s car isn’t in a ditch somewhere.” 

“He’s been taken; Alexander would never leave without telling Delia.” 

The elevator car reached its destination, the executive parking garage, and everyone, but Paul, exited. “Bring him home.” He couldn’t look at Damien, so directed his comments to his niece.

Charles drove, heading out to the children’s school and in the car, nobody said anything to Damien. Instead, they focused on figuring out why Tom had taken Alexander and what the plan would be once they arrived at the school. Their boss sat in silence, staring out the window and they knew that if he wanted something, he would speak.

From the moment that Delia had told him that Xander was missing, he had taken his emotions and put them away; they would not serve him in finding his son. There was a placid, almost serene look on his face that belied the inner turmoil raging inside him. He had considered security for his children, but they had balked at the idea. Damien and others kept an eye on some of the more militant religious groups and after the so-called second coming; all was quiet. But mostly, he had figured that anything like this was incapable of happening; clearly, he had been wrong.

He was also scared; more scared than he logically should be. It was doubtful that Alexander as Antichrist-in-waiting was in any real danger; however, Damien was also a father and all he knew was that his son was gone.

What were my last words to Xander? Did I tell him that I loved him?

He struggled to keep his thought process on what could have happened. He had not spoken to Tom this morning. He had gotten a late start at the office, so he had been home when his kids had left for school and had watched as the children had grabbed extra snacks and then had taken off outside.

He allowed a small flicker of rage to move through him. If whoever was behind this, because it sure the fuck wasn’t Tom, didn’t kill the Thorn’s former chauffeur, then Damien would.

Then there was the broken communication between him and his son. Though Xander wouldn’t understand how his father could talk to him in his head the way that his sister could, that was not reason enough for there to be a lack of communication between the two of them.

He didn’t know enough about himself to purposely shut himself off from his father and Delia certainly hadn’t done it.

There was no change on his face as he had a moment of realization. Besides himself, there was only one who was capable of stepping in and doing this and that was his Father. Why? Surely Satan could find an easier way of disposing of Alexander than to go through the charade of having him kidnapped?

Damien stared vacantly out the window, watching the scenery rush past, but seeing nothing. He closed his eyes and set himself thinking as to why his Father was letting this happen and praying that whatever this was, Satan didn’t something fatal in mind for His son’s second-born.

...666...

Once they arrived at Briarwood Academy, everyone could see that the police had made it there first. Damien got out of the car and made his way up the steps as the two officers who were standing guard moved aside to let him pass. Inside the school, he stood in the foyer, looking like a general taking the battlefield and Thomas couldn’t help thinking that their god had better help those who stood in his boss’ way because Damien’s wouldn’t.

He didn’t know where Delia was, so he sent a message to her: I’m here.

Apparently, she wasn’t all that far away as her voice could be heard by those in the hall.

“And now, you can deal with my father!”

Then the sound of running feet got closer as she came sprinting around the corner straight to her father.

He nodded to the others, and they moved towards the office and then Damien led Delia into one of the empty classrooms. He watched his daughter as she stood before him, her unfaltering gaze directed at him. She was shaking, not from grief, but fear. Damien was well acquainted with his daughter’s response because it was one had he received from disciples who stood before him awaiting the wrath of the Antichrist.

He went to her and pulled her to him. “Right now, I’m a father minus a son and you are a sister minus a brother. You’re not my disciple, okay, Junior?” She unloosed the grief that she had held back and began sobbing in his arms and after a minute or so, he lifted up her face. “I know you think that it’s your fault...”

“It is my f-fault! I couldn’t protect him and now he could be...” but she couldn’t finish.

“Do you think I’m a negligent father for failing to provide security for the children of the most powerful businessman and the face of the planet, not to mention the children of the Antichrist?”

“No.” She vehemently shook her head.

“Okay, so now that we’ve absolved each other for him being taken, I need you to be calm.” He gently went into her mind and instantly she stopped crying. “I can feel you and right now, I need to pay attention for Xander or Satan. Once you calm down, we can talk.” He spat in his hand and held it out to his daughter. “I promise to do everything I can to bring your brother home safe. Now you.”

For the second time, Delia put her feelings in a box and locked it and this time, until she was back with her twin, the box would stay locked. She spat into her hand, and she shook hands with her father. “I promise to do anything to bring back my brother.” Delia wiped her hand on her pants and offered her leg to her father, who wiped off the spit. “Why can’t we feel him?” 

“Because.” Damien took a deep breath. “Satan is preventing it.” 

She could do nothing but stare at her father.

“My best guess is that this kidnapping happened with no one behind it apart from whoever was stupid enough to plan and go through with it. Under normal circumstances, mysterious and supernatural things would be happening to get Xander out of it, just like things must have happened when my Father had to step in when people couldn’t protect me and I was too young to protect myself. Satan is using this opportunity to awaken the Antichrist-to-be to his true self.” 

Delia frowned.

Damien didn’t need to be empathic to be able to read his daughter. “Junior, I’ve told you more than once since we had our conversation about you that he chooses to ignore some of the more blatant facts about us and our family. He doesn’t want to be different, well now he’s about to get a rude awakening and embrace his differences to get himself out of this.” 

“We don’t know what can kill him,” her voice was a whisper.

“I am one hundred percent sure that Satan will not let anything happen to him. If nothing kicks on in him, he’ll sit back and watch while things happen to get him out of whatever has gone on. As a father, I love both my children equally, but when it comes to religious matters, Xander is more important, and he needs to be able to do things that need to be done.”

“Like kill.” 

“Like do lots of things, including kill. He’s smart and he’ll keep a level head and if he listens to himself, he’ll open that part of him he’s been choosing to ignore, and his instincts will guide him. We deal with the fallout of him possibly having to kill, which includes having the talk about who and what he is.”

Sister wise, Delia didn’t like it, not one bit. There were far too many what ifs and unknown variables for her liking. Something could go wrong, or they could be mistaken, and the plan might just be for her brother to die. She closed her eyes. She knew that one day, her father would no longer be here, it was the way of the world; but Xander...Delia would rather be dead than to live without her brother. However, she was also the daughter of the Antichrist, granddaughter of Satan and the protector of the future Antichrist and in that sense, her life was not her own. She looked up at her father with a sureness in her heart that hadn’t been there moments ago. “We have to have faith.”

Damien reached out and touched her face. “That we do, Deedle. Come on, let’s see how the others are faring.” 

Once they got to the principal’s office, they walked into controlled chaos. Anna was just hanging up a phone and Thomas was in the corner talking to Ms. Coates.

 A policeman came over, took out a notebook, and looked at Delia. “When did you notice your teaching acting strangely?” 

“Everything was fine until after lunch. Mr. Rhodes began acting weird, staring at me, and then looking away when I caught him. He wouldn’t call on me when I put up my hand and didn’t talk to me, like he was ashamed to look at me.” 

The policeman left the office, and the phone rang, and Anna picked it up. “Okay, I’ll send them down.” She hung up and then turned to the others. “They found something.”

Damien, Thomas, and Delia followed Ms. Coates, leaving Anna behind.

They went down a hall to a door that led to stairs. Downstairs, around a corner to the left, and at the end of a hall they found a door that was normally locked, but now contained two police officers and Charles. The room was cramped with only a few chairs, a table, a monitor and two videotape machines. Charles nodded to one of the cops and he pressed a button.

The time on the monitor read three twenty-four and everyone in the room watched as the front door of the school opened and Alexander Thorn came outside. He stood by the door for a few seconds and then headed down the steps. Once at the car, he opened the door, threw in his backpack, got in and closed the door. However, unlike what would have normally happened, and that’s that Tom would have waited for Delia, the car pulled away, leaving with Alexander.

“If I would have been earlier...” 

“Then he’d have both of you.” Thomas looked over at Delia.

Damien reached down and pressed a button to rewind the tape and again pressed play. He watched his son get in the car and watched Tom pull away and thirty seconds later, a second car pulled out and followed. The camera had not been able to capture the license plate.

“That car.” Damien rewound the tape again.

It was a mid-size car, tan in color with absolutely nothing special about it, making it the perfect vehicle for someone, or someones, to use to tail Tom out to wherever he was supposed to take Alexander. The selected members of the Chicago Police Department now added the description of the tan car to Tom, Mr. Rhodes, and Mrs. Dixon as something else to look out for.

“I think someone needs to go through these tapes with an officer. Maybe, the person driving the car was surveilling the school.”  Thomas grabbed a chair and put it behind Ms. Coates. “You are going to make yourself useful. You are going to look at these tapes and see if you can find anything wrong…a person who doesn’t, or people who don’t, belong on school property. I am assuming that you can do that?” 

“Yes, but these tapes only go back a week.” 

“Are there more than these?” 

“No, we just tape over them.”

Thomas exhaled. “Okay, then start with this one. Go back to the beginning of the tape and if you can't find anything, then start with the earliest tapes that there are.”

One of the police officers remained with Ms. Coates and the two of them began to go through the tapes to see if they could find something suspicious.

Charles, Damien, Delia, and the other police officer returned upstairs to the office and while they had been busy downstairs, Michael had turned up with Cecile, and Alexander’s dog.

Delia went to Milo, knelt, and buried her face in his neck, stroking down his back. She had made a promise to keep herself together but being this close to her brother’s dog was making that promise difficult to keep. Milo, sensing her wonky emotions, whined, and nuzzled her.

“How are you holding up, Sweetpea?”

Delia could do nothing but shrug.

“You hang in there.” Cecile bent down and kissed Delia’s head and then went to Damien, but she didn’t touch him; she knew better than that. “If anyone can safely bring that boy home, it’s you.”  

Damien gave her a thin, hollow smile as she went into the principal’s office, which had turned into command central.

Delia knew that her father or Cecile must have thought the dog might be able to locate his Master, but now that they were waiting for whatever was going to happen to play out, all they could do now was wait.

While they were in the hall, Trevor Pendleton came in the front door and made his way to them.

Damien looked down at his daughter. “Go tell Thomas and Anna to come here and you stay with Cecile.”

“But...”

“You will stay with Cecile.”

She recognized the look on her father’s face as one which wouldn’t be argued with and both she and the dog took off to the office and moments later, Thomas and Anna came out and went to Damien.

“There’s been no report of an accident with a car matching the description of Tom’s car. Motivations?” Pendleton looked at Thomas, not wanting to look at Damien.

“It’s not religious, it just doesn’t feel right for that, but we can’t rule it out. More likely than not, this is business related, which I much prefer for one reason: whoever took Alexander has no idea how badly he’s fucked himself because he has no idea with whom he’s fucking. I’ve got people looking into business transactions for the last five years. If we don’t find anything there, we go back further than that.” 

“As of yet, no one’s spouse has called in to report anyone missing; but if anyone does, one of our officers will handle the calls. It’s not going to be long until dead bodies start turning up and we’ll deal with that when the time comes.” Pendleton looked at Damien then, wanting him to know that this would all be kept quiet.

“What happens now?” Anna handled waiting around about as well as her uncle did, which wasn’t very well.

“We wait to see if someone contacts us about ransom.” Trevor and Anna went to the office, leaving Damien and Thomas alone.

Thomas pulled the door closed and looked at Damien. “I know in my gut, and you know too that this isn’t religious. Since all that crap with the second-coming, we’ve kept track of the more militant groups who would try something like this, and we haven’t heard anything which means that whoever has him has no idea that they’re holding your son.”  Thomas was silent for a moment. “I don’t mean to pry...”

“I can’t feel him. I think my Father is using this as a way to have Xander connect with who he really is, and until whatever is supposed to play out plays out, I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

“If whoever did this is smart, he’s kept the people involved to minimum, not more than two or three others apart from himself, and that’s good for us because the fewer people involved means a smaller mess to clean up and the more control we have over everything once this is resolved and then we can make whoever did this pay.” Thomas reached for the door and opened it for Damien.

Both of them went back into the office and joined the others since there was nothing to do but wait.

…666…

For three hours, time dragged its feet. Downstairs, Ms. Coates, and the officer kept at the tapes. At one point, the principal began to call parents to tell them that the school would be closed tomorrow but did not say why. She also didn’t tell them that depending on how Damien Thorn decided to deal with this, the school might never be opened again.

Upstairs, people waited for a phone call about ransom, but it wasn’t coming; Trevor Pendleton didn’t have to tell anybody that was bad.

Delia was lying on the couch, her head resting on her father’s thigh when

DEEDLE!?  

She he took off running into the hall.

Nander, I’m here!

Delia was shortly joined by Damien, who had excused himself by saying that he was worried about his daughter.

I’M SCARED!  

Tears rolled down Delia’s cheeks. She could feel her brother’s fear and she couldn’t comfort him.

Nander, I know, but Damien is with me. He’s going to talk to you and then he’ll know where you are, and we will come get you.  

Xander, think to me and I’ll know where you are.  

He obeyed and Damien now knew exactly where his son was, but panic soon filled his head.

PLEASE COME GET ME. I WANT TO COME HOME. I WANT DEEDLE BUT PLEASE DON’T BRING HER HERE!  

Delia was whining and crying, and he could feel how badly they both wanted to be together.

Hang on, Xander.  

Thomas came out into the hall and came over to the pair of them.

“Alexander is on Lake Michigan; a boat called The Devil’s Due.” 

Thomas was silent for a second and then went over to get one of the other police officers, who after talking with Thomas, went inside to get Trevor Pendleton. Trevor came out and after a chat with Thomas, headed over to Damien.

“Do you know where on Lake Michigan?” 

“Yes.” Once Xander had thought his location to him, it was like a channel had been cleared and Damien now knew everything about everything.

Trevor went back inside where he would reveal a surprise development regarding Alexander’s location.

“Damien, I’m coming with you.”

“No.” He could feel her; she was about ready to crawl out of her own skin for want of her brother.

“You can’t expect me to stay here!”

Damien put his arm around Delia’s shoulders and lead her away from the others. “I know you’re the older sister, but some things might have happened that he might not want you to know about just yet.”

“But that shouldn’t matter. I know he killed them. He needs me.” Again, it was becoming difficult for her to keep a lid on her emotions.

“Deedle, he doesn’t want you there. He’s worried about what he did and…it’s a male ego thing, just let your brother have some privacy right now. You can be with him, up here.” He gently tapped the side of her head.

Anna and Charles had joined Thomas in the hall and Damien motioned them over. “Anna, you follow in my car; I’ll go with Trevor and Thomas. Milo comes with us. Charles, take Cecile and Delia home.”

Everyone went off to do as Damien instructed and soon, Charles and Cecile were in the hall, with Milo sitting patiently by Cecile’s side.

Logically, she knew her father was right. He would want to pay attention to Xander and that would be difficult to do if he had to deal with her.

Damien hugged his daughter. “He’s alive and fine. We just have to help him deal with whatever has happened. I love you and I’ll be back.” He kissed her on the forehead and everyone who was going with him left, including Milo.

Damien’s coming to get you right now.

Deedle, what’s going on?  

She would have loved nothing more than to tell her brother everything, but it wasn’t her place.

Nander, I can’t say anything, but you and Damien are going to be having a talk once all this settles down...stay with me until Damien shows up.  

As Delia Thorn walked out of the front doors, she was fairly certain that she would be the last student to ever do so.

...666...

 As the car turned from East 89^th Street onto South Walton Drive, Damien told his son they were nearly there. One other cruiser had accompanied Trevor’s car and all three vehicles converged and there, moored at the pier was The Devil’s Due. Damien ran to the boat, and nobody there dared to tell him not to. Once on board, he called out.

“Xander!?” 

“I’m downstairs!” 

Damien turned around and pulled on the handle of a tiny door and flew down the stairs, a policeman with his drawn gun was close on Damien’s heels and both of them hit the ground nearly at the same time.

“Oh God, Jesus Christ!” 

The cop turned away in disgust, nearly throwing up on Damien’s shoes because there was Alexander Thorn, safe and sound, sitting in the middle of something that resembled a horror movie.

Chapter Text

The sound of the home time bell reverberated in the classroom. Xander began packing up his things, but unlike his classmates, wouldn’t be heading out on his way home for at least another forty-five minutes.

“You’re almost off the hook, Thorn.”

He laughed. “It wasn’t so bad when it was forty degrees outside. Now…the pool is calling my name.”

“Is your dad gonna do a July 4^th blowout in Wisconsin this year…he asked hopefully.”

He pretended to pull a Magic Eight Ball out of his backpack, giving it a shake. “All signs point to yes.”

“Nice.”

He could sense there was something else on Mike Page’s mind. “Don’t be shy…”

“So…do you know if Delia has been asked to the dance?”

“I don’t know, but you’re kinda shit outta luck unless your name is Aaron Chambers. I can find out, if you want.”

“Sure. See ya tomorrow, Thorn.”

“Ciao for now.”

He high fived his friend and the other students as they passed him on their way out of the classroom and put his zipped-up backpack on his chair and looked around; it was only he and Mrs. Dixon left in the classroom and she was making her way over to him.

“Alexander, you don’t have to stay and help, you can go.” 

Ever since the start of the school year, he had volunteered to stay later and help set up the classroom for the next day. This was the first time since he had been staying that she suggested that he leave on time.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind staying. Really.” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

He watched his teacher as she smiled at him. It was a nervous smile and beads of sweat had popped out along her brow; but she had been acting strangely since she had come back from lunch...looking at him and then quickly turning away when he would look back at her. Now, as earlier, he felt her anxiety and her fear.

He gave her back a smile more confident than the one she had given him, which seemed to calm her down a little. “Okay, if you’re sure. See you tomorrow.” He put his backpack on and walked to the door.

“Alexander?” 

When he turned around there was a pained expression on her face. Her fear and anxiety spiked and for a second, he thought he was having a panic attack.

“Yes, Mrs. Dixon?” 

She opened her mouth, but then seemed to change her mind and then closed her eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He smiled and then walked out the classroom, the smile falling from his face. Shit, that was weird. He made his way to the front door and thought about telling Delia he was done early, but quickly changed his mind.

Over the past few years, his sister had become increasingly protective of him. There wasn’t a new person at school who was interested in him who first didn’t have to go through her. Even people at the house...anyone new in their family’s life and they had to deal with his sister almost before they had to deal with Damien. He had talked to their father, who had given him some bullshit about her just doing her job as the big sister and he shouldn’t worry about it; but if he had a problem, he was to come and talk to him and not say anything to her. He loved being close to her, but sometimes he needed a break, so he would sit in the car with Tom, and they would talk until he decided he had had enough of a break and would send a message to her that he was ready to go.

He opened the front door of the school and was immediately hit with a wall of heat and humidity. Kids ran past him, and he looked out to the street, spotted the car, and ran down the stairs. Once there, he opened the back door, threw in his knapsack, got in, closed the door, and no sooner was inside the car, then Tom locked the doors, pulled out and drove away. It was then that he realized that the partition between the driver and back seat was up. He tried unlocking the door, but they wouldn’t unlock. He pressed the button for the intercom.

“Tom?”

The intercom was working, but the driver wasn’t answering.

“Tom?” 

Delia?  

 But there was only nothing.

DEEDLE!?  

Icy fear gripped him, clenching his gut. She wasn’t ignoring him, and while he could tell that she was alive, whatever connection the two of them shared was broken and the messages that he was sending to her weren’t getting through...like someone had tuned her to the wrong channel. 

He sat back and wiped away the sweat that now dripped into his eyes and he felt a salty pool of liquid gather in the small of his back. For some reason, Tom had decided to kidnap him; or, perhaps closer to the truth because Tom wasn’t nearly smart enough to do something like this himself, somebody else had put him up to it.

He didn’t have anything on him that would break the car windows or the partition, and he was pretty sure were shatter proof or bullet resistant. The car windows were tinted, so drawing the attention of anyone in a passing car was impossible. The locks in the back could be locked so they could only be opened by someone in the front of the car; he was trapped.

Both he and Delia loved detective fiction, in books and on tv. They had seen more than their fair share of shows about wealthy people having their children kidnapped for ransom, and whenever he had asked Damien about anyone trying to take him or Delia, he had gotten amused looks on both their faces.

Now that it was actually happening, he was finding little about the situation that was amusing.

Who else was involved in this? There was Cecile, but he doubted that. She was smart, but she was far too honest, and she loved him and Delia. Paul or Thomas could be involved; both had the balls and the smarts to pull off something like this and knowing what went on in the Thorns’ lives gave them an advantage that others lacked, but they knew Damien and knew that he had precisely zero tolerance for anyone who hurt his children. There was Anna, but she, like Cecile, loved him and Delia too much.

There was school, but no one at school was...Mrs. Dixon! She had been different since lunch! He thought about Tom this morning; he had been fine.  Whatever had happened to Mrs. Dixon and Tom had happened after lunch, which made sense since it wouldn’t allow either of them time to get anyone else involved, like the police or…

What if someone has Delia??

He began frantically banging on the partition and pressed the button for the intercom again. “Tom! Please stop!”

The car did not slow down.

A hate the likes of which he had never known possessed him and he made a fist and slammed the meaty part of his hand against the intercom button. “Tom, you stop this fucking car, right now!” 

But Tom wasn’t stopping. He, like Paul and Thomas, had been with the Thorns long enough to know that when it came to his children, Damien Thorn did not fuck around. However, the knowledge that death possibly waited at the hands of his employer wasn’t enough to make him abort the kidnapping, which made him wonder exactly who it was who was behind all of this, or perhaps closer to the truth, what Tom had been threatened with to get him to obey.

They had been driving for over an hour when they finally arrived at their destination. Tom got out of the car and opened back door and Xander had every intention of attacking him, but Tom shook his head.

“They have Delia; if you try anything, they’ll hurt her.” 

His voice had gotten quiet at the end, and he knew that ‘hurt her’ had been Tom’s nice way of saying that the last hours or days of Delia’s life would be spent with her wishing that she had never been born.

He would have liked nothing more than to take off, but he wouldn’t do anything to further endanger his sister. He had been complaining about her not leaving him alone, of not giving him space, but he’d give anything right now to be able to feel and hear her again. If he got out of this alive, he’d never leave her alone again.

He scanned his surroundings and had no clue where he was. He could tell that it had been a manufacturing complex at one time, but that was all. He watched as a car drove into the abandoned parking lot and pulled up beside Tom. A man got out of the car and one look told him that he wasn’t the one in charge; it would seem that he was going to be passed on to someone else before he ended up where all of this was going to play out.

Tom gently pushed him towards the other man, who reached out and grabbed him, and as he did, there was a surge of familiarity from the chauffeur. More likely than not, this was the man who had been in contact with Tom and probably the others. The two men exchanged no words, but as Tom opened his mouth to say something, he never got the chance as the new man quickly pulled out a gun and shot Tom twice in the head.

The new man shoved him into the back seat, got behind the wheel, and drove away.

He turned and stared out the back window and watched the afternoon sun reflect off the growing pool of blood spreading out from beneath Tom, who had been very stupid. While Xander had to admit that whoever had done this was bold, it was unlikely that they were more powerful than his father, and he was sure that had Tom gone to Damien, he would have been able to prevent all this from happening, including his own death.

He turned to face the front. That Tom had put him in harm’s way was bad enough, but that he had endangered his sister...that was unforgivable and as the car pulled out of the dilapidated industrial wasteland, any sympathy for Tom, or anyone else in involved in hurting his family disappeared.

They drove until the man, whom he began to think of as B, pulled into a shopping mall parking lot and drove around the back near some dumpsters and stopped. B turned and put the gun in his face.

“If you try to run away, I will find a phone and call the person who has your sister and tell them to do things to Delia that will have her begging for her life. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes.”

B got out of the car and opened the back door and he exited. He was then pushed towards another car that sat by a huge trash container. B pulled out another set of keys from his pocket, unlocked the back door and he once again found himself in the backseat of a car. B got behind the wheel, pulled out of the spot and then drove away.

They were on the road for a while and at first, he had no idea where they were heading, until he recognized the baseball diamonds and soccer field near Calumet Park. They drove a little further and then B parked the car and turned around.

“We are going to walk to the dock and get on the boat that’s there. If you try to run away, what will happen to your sister?” 

“She’ll be hurt.” 

B smiled, got out, opened up the back door and he got out and as they walked in the direction of Lake Michigan, he could see the boat that B was talking about moored at a single pier. Xander walked across the dock and spotted the name of the boat, The Devil’s Due, and he wondered if it belonged to whoever was behind the kidnapping.

Once on board, B looked around until he found a small door and he opened it and motioned with the gun that he should go through it.

He walked down the stairs and ended up in an open space that led to a seating area, the galley, a dining area and what he assumed were sleeping quarters.

“The head?”

“If you can find it, you can use it.” 

After a brief search, he located it, and as he stood pissing, he looked around for anything that could be used a weapon and didn’t find anything. There was the towel bar, but that was cemented into the wall and there was no way to loosen it without being heard.

He washed his hands and checked the time; it was five-thirty and he wondered how much longer this was going to take until A, the architect behind all of this, would show up and he would finally know what was going on. He left the washroom and B pulled him towards a chair, shoved him onto it, tied him up and now he could do nothing but wait.

Chapter Text

Xander had sat and watched shadows move across the floor. He had no idea what time it was since he couldn’t look at his watch and hadn’t been placed anywhere near a clock, but he guessed it had to have been more than two hours since B had first tied him up. He was trying to stretch out a kink in his back when he both heard and felt movement from above. Feet came down the stairs and one look at the face of the person who owned them told him this was A.

“Hey.” B came over to A.

“How is he?” A motioned his head towards Alexander.

“Quiet. Is he here?” B attempted to hand A a drink.

“He’s upstairs. I’ll bring him down in a few minutes.”

A refused the drink offered to him and B drank it himself. The men gathered in a corner of the galley and talked, but their voices were too low for him to hear.

So, there was a C. What would his role be in all of this? He concentrated on A and was instantly met with a flood of emotions...jealousy, rage, glee, fear and when A turned to look at him again there was wall of hate distinctly Damien Thorn shaped. He watched as a cold smile spread across A’s mouth and A went back to speaking to B.

This was about getting back at Damien for something. What had his father done to piss off A to such an extent that kidnapping seemed like a rational reaction? Now whatever fear that was coursing through him had just been ratcheted up more than a few notches. Ransom was easy; ransom kept him alive so that A and whoever else was involved in this could get their money. The kind of hate that he had felt coming from A? That was irrational and violent. That was about paying back his father in a way that would be sure to leave a lasting impression and Damien presented with the body of his dead son would do the trick. He watched A go back upstairs, no doubt to bring down the mysterious C.

He didn’t understand why he could sometimes feel what others felt, not including Delia or his father. Why had he been able to feel his teacher and A? Both had been involved in the plot to have him kidnapped, so maybe he could do it when whatever was going on was about him?

But that’s not true, is it? You’ve always been good at being able to feel what others feel, regardless of whether it has anything to do with you, and then being uncannily talented at using those feelings to get exactly what you want…with everyone but Damien and Delia…

As B stood there drinking, Xander reached out to him: mostly there was fear and want. The fear seemed to be mixed with worry, no doubt B was afraid that he would be caught and sent to prison, or possibly killed. There was also loyalty mixed in with the fear...A and B knew each other well.

A returned and as promised, didn’t come alone, and as dire as the situation was, Alexander Thorn let a smirk creep across his mouth.

“By the time Damien is finished with you, you’re going to wish your father had never fucked your mother.”

He braced himself because he felt it before A did it: a backhanded slap across the face. Luckily, it didn’t hit his nose, but it made his ears ring and wrenched his neck.

He grabbed the boy around the back of his head and pulled him closer. “By the time my friend is finished with you, your father isn’t going to be in a mood to do much of anything. Damien Thorn will learn a lesson about taking what doesn’t belong to him. I will take something that doesn’t belong to me and then I will return it to him broken and lifeless and then maybe he’ll learn not to take things that aren’t his. However, if this lesson fails, he still has a daughter.”

He didn’t let his relief show; Delia hadn’t been taken and was in fact safe. He could feel A’s frustration at having to have made a choice between the pair of them. Now, he would do everything in his power to leave here, even if he died in the attempt because there was no fucking way he was going to stick around to be a part of whatever A had planned for him.

“Okay, I need to get home, or my wife will wonder where I am. Phillip.”

Xander held his breath as Phillip stood in front of him because he could feel what the man was feeling. It was now clear as crystal what the plan for him would be if the raw and violent sexual wants aimed at him were acted upon.

“Phillip, this is Alexander; Alexander, this is Phillip. He is going to be your special friend for the evening. Wait until it is completely dark until you take him out to the middle of the lake, and do not, I repeat, do not lift a finger to him before that.” A moved towards the galley and gave a look at B, who nodded. “And Phillip, take your time and have fun.” A winked at him and then left.

“I need a drink.” B went to the galley and poured himself a drink and then looked at Phillip. “Want something?”

“I’ll get it. I’m in the mood for vodka. Alexander, do you want something?”

He shook his head.

“This is a date, Alexander, everyone drinks on a date.” Phillip smiled.

He and Delia had gone behind Damien’s back and tried what their father drank, but that had been voluntary on both their parts. He would have preferred not having anything, but given the circumstances, he didn’t think that was an option. He was acquainted with vodka and decided to go with that. He looked up at Phillip. “I’ll have vodka, too.” 

The man winked at him.

“Good choice.”

Phillip went to the galley and poured something that looked like water into two plastic cups, brought them over, and held one of them up to his mouth for him to have a drink, and kept the cup tilted until he had drunk everything.

“Want more?”

“Yes.” As before, he didn’t really feel like he had a choice to refuse, so once Phillip finished his own drink and then he back to the galley to pour more vodka for the both of them.

Xander needed to do something, or he would be too wasted to do anything but pass out. Usually, he used feelings to get people to do things he wanted them to do: he simply felt at them. Most times, he could put someone in a good enough mood that they would bend over backwards to be helpful.

But he realized that that wasn’t going to cut it in this situation. B wasn’t a happy camper right now and there was too much going on that could distract him. He had an idea. It was nothing for him to go inside Delia’s head and talk to her. He would never get his sister to do anything against her will, but if he could go inside B’s head, then maybe he could control B and get him to do something that would get him out of here. So, he thought about being inside B’s mind and the next thing he knew, he could feel the familiar pressure as he attempted to share space with someone else’s consciousness.

It was different than communing with Delia. Being with his sister was fun and effortless, and he had once described it to her like the two different colors of a candy cane wrapped around each other to make one object. While joining with B was jarring and felt foreign, there was also something else: it felt right. He was in control, and it made him feel in-tune with himself, like he was doing something that he had been born to do. He couldn’t read B’s mind, the way he could with Delia, but that didn’t matter.

He was relieved to find that like with his sister, he could be inside of someone’s mind and be aware of his surroundings, so he knew that Phillip was on his way back with more vodka. B took a sip of his drink and Xander thought to him,

dump your drink down the sink.  

As if it had been his intention all along, B turned and poured his drink down the sink. Xander smiled; it had felt too easy. Just to be sure, he would try something else. He watched B reach for the bottle of brown liquid, more likely than not it was whiskey, but he quickly took control of B’s mind again and made him reach for the vodka instead, and B poured himself a drink of the clear liquid as Phillip made his way back to him, their cups replenished.

“Here we go.”

Phillip held up the cup to Alexander’s mouth.

“How old are you?”

He swallowed what Phillip had made him drink, but he couldn’t answer the question because he was distracted as several things seemed to be happening to him at once…

If he had been determined to get away before he had known the things that Phillip wanted to do to him, his efforts would now be trebled to get the fuck out of Dodge before the psycho laid one finger on him.

Next was Delia. She had always tried to make him to understand that she, he, and Damien were different, even before she had words to express the idea.

Mostly importantly, he now accepted as fact what his sister had been trying to tell him because he felt different and looking at the two men, they looked and felt different; they looked and felt like they weren’t people.

“I asked you how old you are.”

He tuned into what was being asked of him. “What? Oh, twelve.”

“Have you had sex, yet?”

“No. Wait. What? I’m twelve. No, I haven’t had sex yet.”

“Has you’re your father has ever touched you?”

“No.”

“What about your sister? She’s very pretty. Has your father ever touched her?”

“No.” 

As he registered the unabashed glee in Phillip’s eyes at the thought that Damien Thorn had hurt one of his own children, he decided that time was up, and this had to come to an end now. He would die while trying to escape, if that’s what it came to, but there was another option.

He didn’t have to be the one who lost his life.

He had gotten into fights; he could throw a punch with the best of them. Killing…that was something totally different. But he understood what would happen to him because he had felt it rolling off Phillip in thick, uncontrollable waves. The man would violate him, and once the guilt of that overtook him, Phillip would kill him. He would then be left somewhere where he was sure to be found and then Damien would get the phone call that no parent ever wants to get.

The thought that his father would have to live with that feeling for the rest of his life was something that he couldn’t bear; but if Damien would be inconsolable, there was no word for how much of a loss it would be for his sister. He didn’t want to kill, but if it was the only way out of this mess, then he would do it...he would do anything to get back to his father and most importantly, to get back to Delia.

His first thought was to have Phillip untie him

NO.

“Woah.”

It wasn’t exactly the word no, but more like a feeling. However, the intention was clear; being untied was a bad idea.

Why? Certainly, being untied was better

NO.  

Once more, that insistence or feeling that being left tied up was the way to go. He didn’t understand who was communicating with him, but it felt like a more powerful version of his father. It had helped him his whole life to get that he wanted; it had helped him get B to pour his drink down the sink.

“I hear you and I trust you.”

Xander could feel anger radiating off Phillip and guessed that he had been trying to talk to him while he had been thinking through things, but the time for thinking was over.

The other thing the…Presence made him understand was that he, Alexander Thorn, was more powerful than he had ever imagined, and every act he did with his mind aligned himself with a part of him that had been hidden inside, and he liked it. It made him feel like him, and he was more than capable of maintaining a conversation with Phillip while getting in B’s head and having him do what he wanted him to do.

He looked around and he spotted a potentially useful object located in the spacious seating area. It was a figure made from granite and was supposed to be a human figure rising out of the material, its arms reaching up towards the heavens, while its feet were undifferentiated, bound by the granite and it was stuck. Whatever its artistic merit, and he felt that it had none, it would be the perfect weapon.

Pick up the statuette.  

As if it had been B’s very own idea, he walked to the sitting area, picked it up and came to where Phillip was standing.

Hit him and do not stop until I tell you to.  

Phillip was mid-word when the statue came down on his head. Once was enough to render the man a vegetable for the rest of his life; twice killed him, but Xander made sure B didn’t let up until Phillip’s head no longer resembled anything looking like a human’s.

He was about to get B to hit himself with the statue, but…

Suddenly, it was as if Alexander was making a movie inside his head and B was the star of the show. They were in the school yard of Briarwood Academy, and B was running towards the playground, running away from him. B stopped at the monkey bars, because sitting on one of the rungs was a large, black raven. Two more seemed to swoop down from out of nowhere and three more after that and then five more until soon, every rung of the monkey bars was shiny black.  

B ran, but the ravens rose as one mass, blotting out the sun, the sky and everything. And then, like a living tornado, the ravens came spiraling down at the man.  

Alexander had at first been a spectator, but now it was if he was one of the ravens—no, he was all of the ravens and he wanted the man, and Alexander the ravens pecked and scratched at the man. His multitudinous wings flapped in man’s face, blinding him. The man reached up, trying to pull the ravens away, but that only seemed to create any empty space which was shortly filled with more ravens.  

The man’s eyes were next, but the Alexander the ravens wanted more, so they set to work pecking and scratching at the man’s head until hair gave way to scalp, which gave way to bone, which gave way to what was inside.  

Soon, the man, with frothy pink foam oozing from his mouth, lay motionless on the ground and the ravens departed and soon, it was as if they had never even been there...

Drenched in sweat, dizzy and nauseated, he opened his eyes to find B on the floor, dead, a thin trickle of blood running out of his nose.

Xander was suddenly very aware of the silence and the smell of blood, piss, and shit that filled his nose. There was something on his face. He gave his head a vigorous shake and Phillip’s brain and bone flew off, landing on the carpeted floor.

He wanted his sister and father; he didn’t want to be in charge anymore and he wanted out of the chair because he needed to puke. He tried to hold it back, but he couldn’t and threw up and didn’t stop until he had vomited up everything in his gut, leaving dry heaves in its wake.

Sweat dripped in his eyes, making them sting. He was suddenly very exhausted and wanted to go home. He knew she wouldn’t answer, but out of desperation, he called for whom he wanted most of all,

DEEDLE!?  

But instead of silence, he was met with the very familiar and comforting presence of his twin, and he felt hot tears roll down his cheeks.

Nander, I’m here!!  

He could feel her relief and love and all he wanted to do was get to her.

I’M SCARED!  

But he reigned in some of his fear once he felt her reaction. She wanted him, to be with him and comfort him and the frustration of not being able to do those things ate away at her.

 Nander, I know, but Damien is with me. He’s going to talk to you and then he’ll know where you are, and we will come get you. 

The next thing he felt was the strong, reassuring presence of his father and he knew that it was only a matter of time until Damien came to the rescue.

Think to me and I’ll know where you are.

That’s what he did, he told his father where he was. However, as much as he wanted his sister, he did not want her here. He didn’t want her to see what he had done, and he didn’t want her to see him sitting, covered in his own puke.

PLEASE COME GET ME. I WANT TO COME HOME. I WANT DEEDLE BUT PLEASE DON’T BRING HER HERE!  

Hang on, Xander.  

There was a long pause and then Delia was talking to him again.

Damien’s coming to get you right now.

Delia, what the fuck is going on?  

He sent out a surge of confusion. He knew that she would understand what he meant; however, he could feel a spike in her frustration level and again, he tamped down his feelings.

I can’t say anything, but you and Damien are going to be having a talk once all this settles down...stay with me until he shows up.  

They didn’t speak, theirs was a relationship that didn’t need words so instead, they simply let their minds be together, weaving in and out of the other’s until he knew his father was here.

I’m leaving you now; be with Damien, you need him. I love you more than anything and I’ll see you soon!  

She didn’t give him a chance to reply before she was gone and no sooner did Delia leave him, then he felt and heard footsteps on the boat, but he was filled with relief because the sound of footsteps was followed by his father’s voice.

“Xander!?”

“I’m downstairs!”

The door was flung open and then two people came down the stairs, but the only person he cared about was the one not wearing the policeman’s uniform.

“I’m tied up!”

Damien went into the galley and pulled open drawers, sending them and their contents to the floor with thuds and clatters until he found a knife. He came back to his son, who was bucking in his seat wanting to be loose.

“Stop, I don’t want to cut you.” He sawed back and forth until the ropes gave way.

“And now for my next magic trick, I shall attempt to stand up.” He wobbled to his feet. “Ta-da.”

“I’ve got you.”

Damien reached out to steady him, he swayed like a tree in windstorm, and pulled Xander close, wrapping his arms around him, kissing the top of his head.

“You’re very expensive Armani suit is going to be decorated in the very latest trend of brain and bone, not to mention puke.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He pulled away and took ahold of the collar of his shirt, and carefully pulled it over his head. “I have to see a man about a horse.”

It was stiflingly hot onboard, Damien could feel rivulets of sweat running down his back, but Xander stood shivering.

“I’ll be right outside. Don’t lock the door. Take off your pants, too. I’m sending Thomas to the car to get clean clothes.”

Thomas, who had been in the process of coming down the stairs, had heard his boss and had done an about face to go retrieve what Damien had asked for.

Outside the bathroom door, he heard the water run, longer than just for handwashing. As he waited, he surveyed the scene. The one who had orchestrated everything was not among the dead, but it would not be long until that situation was remedied.

Thomas returned with the fresh changed of clothing, and Damien opened the door to pass them along. He removed his tie and jacket and handed them to Thomas. When the bathroom door eventually opened, he could almost taste his son’s exhaustion. He would leave Thomas behind, who would fill him in later, and led his youngest up the stairs to the fresh air outside.

Xander had removed his shoes and socks, and the cool grass felt good between his toes, but before he knew what had literally hit him, he found himself on his ass, having been run over by his dog, who didn’t know whether he wanted to lick him, jump on him, sit in his lap, or do all three things at once.

“Hey, Milo.” He buried his face in his dog’s neck and while he could mostly smell dog, he detected the faint scent of Delia, who must have recently been in contact with him.

Damien let him be for a few but held out his hand. “Come on. The quicker we get into the car, the quicker we get home.”

In the backseat, he put his arm around Xander and sent calming and peaceful thoughts to him, and he felt the small body next to him go slack and in no time, he was sound asleep. 

...666...  

At the house, Delia had been sitting on the steps of the foyer, but Damien had sent a message to her that her brother was safely in the car, and they were on their way; she was now pacing back and forth on the marble floor. She hadn’t removed her shoes because she wouldn’t be waiting until he was in the house before she got to him.

When she knew that he was close enough, she threw open the front door and ran, her dog at her heels.

His head jerked up; he sat up and tried to open the door, but it was locked. He began whining and pounding his fists against the glass.

Milo jumped down onto the floor of the car.

“Anna, stop the car.” Damien reached over and unlocked and opened the door and Xander fell out of the car but picked himself up and ran.

The car hadn’t made it off the main road onto the long private one that led up to the house. Delia had sprinted from the driveway onto the private road just as Alexander was turning from the main road onto their private one when they spotted each other, picked up their pace and threw themselves into each other’s arms. They had been crying, but now that they were with each other, the sobbing subsided and they held each other, their foreheads pressed tightly together.

The car made it to where the children were standing, and Damien got out and held his children to him. Eventually, he bent down. “Deedle, you either have to let go to get back in the car or start walking to the house.”

Clutching onto each other, his children walked up to the house, their dogs walking with their respective Masters.

Anna drove up to the house and informed the others that Alexander was fine, and eventually the Thorns made it home.

“I knew you’d be back here tonight.” Cecile reached out and kissed the top of Alexander’s head.

But the twins took no notice of anything that was going on around them as they made their way up the stairs, still holding onto one another.

“Damien, if it’s okay…”

“Of course. Anna, can you take Cecile to her room, please?”

While they went off to do that, Damien followed his children, who had parked themselves on Xander’s bed. He grabbed a pair of pajamas from the chest of drawers that contained underwear and sleep clothing and then went into the bathroom to start a shower.

“I think I need to live a shower for the rest of my life. I feel disgusting.”

“You smell like a distillery.” She was trying to lighten the mood, but she lacked her brother’s way with humor.

“He tried to get me drunk, but...” Alexander frowned.

“What?”

He turned to her. “I drank a lot, like way more than when we’ve snuck booze out of Damien’s liquor cabinet.” He had lowered his voice during that last part. “But nothing. I puked, but that had more to do with...other things than being drunk.”  He stared at his sister. “Delia, I should be hammered.”

“I can’t tell you, so please drop it, but it has to do with what father will talk to you about, whenever he decides to talk to you.”

Damien came out of the bathroom. “Your shower is prepared, sir.”

“Thank-you, Jeeves. Please make sure my brandy and cigars are ready when I’m done. Come on, Milo.”

The dog let out a happy bark and followed his Master into the bathroom.

Delia’s eyes narrowed to slits and she turned to her father, who had joined her on the bed. "Someone tried to get my brother drunk so they could have an easier time hurting him?”

“Pretty much.”

“And they’re dead?” 

“Two of them are. The one behind it all wasn’t there. Deedle, we are in the homestretch right now, and you’re itching so badly to tell him everything, I can taste it. But you have to hang on until all this is done.”

She took a deep breath. “I know.”

They sat and waited until eventually, the shower was turned off. There was the sound of a hairdryer and not long after that, a freshly showered and pajamaed Xander appeared.

Damien didn’t have to ask where they were sleeping, as they made their way to his room, pulled down the covers on his bed and made themselves comfortable. Just then, Anna arrived carrying a double-decker tray that held two bowls of homemade chicken noodle soup, two mugs of tea, and a sleeve of crackers.

Xander watched as his father and Anna stood by the door, talking. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he was fairly sure he could guess the gist of the convo.

“D-man, it’s okay, you don’t have to come to bed now. You won’t sleep, anyway. I’m safe at home.”  

“And I’m not letting him out of my sight, quite possibly for the rest of his life.” Delia broke up a bunch of crackers and put them in her soup, wiping her hands on the cloth napkin afterwards.

“Good night, I’ll see you both in the morning.”

Damien shut the door and sat on the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“He knows who took him.”

“I already know who took you, but I want you to think him into my head.”

He closed his eyes and pictured A and then thought that image to his father.

“So, who is he?” Delia looked at her father over the rim of the mug of her tea.

“It’s not important right now. Finish eating, please, so you can both go to sleep. I think we can forgo the teeth brushing for tonight.” He sat on the bed and made sure they ate everything. When they were done, he put the tray on his desk and then came back to them. “How you did what you did? That conversation might not happen for a few days; but having to kill, that we’ll talk about that tomorrow. For now, you need rest.”

His children got under the covers, and he shut off the lights, came back and sat on the bed beside his son and once again went into his mind and helped him to relaxed; it didn’t take long until he could feel that both of his children were sound asleep.

He turned on the lamp that was on the bedside table closest to Xander and examined him: the left side of his face was a fading bluish-green bruise. He put his hand against his cheek and could feel a tiny fracture in a bone, even now healing itself. He could tell that the muscles in his neck had been pulled and pulled hard. He looked at his wrists, which were raw from where he had strained to get out of the chair. Damien had, of course, smelled the alcohol the minute he had attempted to cut him free when they had been aboard the boat.

He was still in control of himself, he needed to be until all of this was over, but fury had begun to unravel itself in him and while he knew that the injuries would be gone by tomorrow, that thought did nothing to abate the anger that patiently waited to be set free.

He shut off the lamp, grabbed the tray and at the door, he turned back and watched his children sleep. Normally, Xander slept under the covers, a lump in the middle of the bed, but not tonight: his children lay facing each other, their heads touching. Damien closed the door and went downstairs.

Chapter Text

When Xander woke up, his sister was sitting on the bed, reading. He sat up and yawned.

“Morning, Deedle.”

She leaned over and the pair of them their foreheads together.

“Afternoon, Nander.”

He pulled his head away. “Afternoon?”

She nodded. “It’s one fifty-five. I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep till tomorrow.” She sent a message that Xander was awake.

A few minutes later, Damien came into the room, sat on the bed, and examined his son’s face, neck, and hands: he was without a scratch. “How are you?”

“Much better, but hungry enough to eat the bloody proverbial horse.”

“On the way home last night, I asked Cecile to stop and get pizza, and there is still some of that, but she stayed here and cooked this morning. You should see all the chicken pot pie!”

He got out of bed and stretched. “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed.”

“Shall I wait for you?” She jumped up, at the ready in case he needed her.

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“Would you like me to put some pizza in the toaster oven? I haven’t had lunch yet.”

“No, but will you wait for me to get downstairs before you eat?”

“I don’t know if I can wait. I’m pretty hungry…” She crossed her arms over her chest, pretending to be more annoyed with him than she really was.

“Trust me, Nag, I’ll make it worth your while. Come on, Milo.” He took off to his room with his dog following him.

Once he had showered, dressed, and made himself presentable, he stood at the top of the stairs, ready to find everyone else, when he was hit was a sudden urge to be in the room that, so far, he was barred from. He walked back to the stairs that were across from his and his sister’s rooms and looked up. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt a need to be in there, but something was pulling him towards the room now, and he suspected that it had to do with his newly discovered abilities and the Presence that had helped him; but he let it go for now and sprinted down the stairs. Once in the foyer, he heard voices coming from the study and realized that Anna and Thomas were here. He knocked on the door and was told to come in.

“I’m not intruding, am I?”

Thomas got up, came over and put a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “How are you?”

Xander gave him a smile. “I’ve been better, but for right now, I’m starved. Hey Anna. Did you sleep here last night?”

She laughed. “I was here, but there was little sleeping involved.” 

“We’re all happy you made it home and that you’re safe.”

He reached out to Thomas…love, concern and protectiveness mixed in with some paternal anxiety; he no doubt must have quickly put himself in Damien’s shoes and had thought about what it would have been like if one of his son’s had been taken.

“Did D-man tell you who he was?”

“Yes, but he’ll sort that out with you. Thomas and I are going to go now, but we’ll be back at some point. You take care, alright?”

“You bet.”

He went into the kitchen, where his father shortly joined him after walking Thomas and Anna to the door. He found his sister sitting at the island, spinning on her chair waiting for him to decide what was going on with lunch.

“This fabulous thing that’s happening had better be happening soon because I’m hungry; and he is awake now, so whatever it is we’re eating, you had better be eating it, too.” She looked at Damien as she stopped spinning.

He was suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of love for his family, especially his father…and an odd feeling that he had severely inconvenienced everyone.

“The only one you are inconveniencing is me. I want food.”

“So impatient. How do you feel about pasta for lunch?”

She frowned and thought about what she had seen in the refrigerator. “We don’t have any pasta.”

He smiled. “But would you like some?”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

The pair of them watched as Xander began to prepare lunch…garlic, onions were cut up and tossed into a cast iron skillet. He added ground beef, plus some spices and salt, mixing until the meat was cooked; next he dumped a jar of Cecile’s canned tomatoes into the skillet.

“Delia?”

“Yes?”

“What is going on right now?”

“No idea. It appears my brother has been keeping things from me. However, given my secretiveness over the past three years, I’ll allow it just this once. And before you ask him, he just wants to do his thing.”

Fusilli past was cooked, along with a loaf of garlic bread. Eventually, the finished meal made it to the table, including a glass of pinot noir.

He waited for them to eat and after a few minutes, his nervousness got the better of him. “Okay, the suspense is killing me...”

She put down her fork and stared at him. “I don’t know what to say; this is almost as good as Cecile’s. Since when do you cook?”

He laughed. “You’ve eaten lots of stuff I’ve made, only you didn’t know I made it. What say you, D-man?”

“I think Delia pretty much summed it up.” He put another forkful of pasta in his mouth.

“It’s not even close to the best I can make. The sauce needs to simmer for a few hours. So can Cecile teach me to cook!?”

“I’m confused...you already know how to cook.” To be helpful, she pointed down at her plate.

“Deedle, this is spaghetti, not cooking. Cecile was worried about how you’d feel having your son cook. She says I’m a natural. She even gave me a nickname.” He didn’t bother to hide the pride that was spilling out.

Damien took a sip of the pinot noir that Xander had poured for him. “I’m afraid to ask.” 

“El jefecito de cocina.” He got up and did an ole pose.

Delia was laughing too hard to say anything more or even eat.

“Well, el jefecito, if Cecile wants to show you how to cook, she can go right ahead.”

“What happened to you at school?” He sat again and continued eating.

First, she, then Damien recounted things from their ends, both leaving out anything that he wasn’t yet ready to hear.

“Any plans for me today, pater?”

“I need to talk with the both of you separately; but after that, you can do whatever you want.”

“Can Deedle and I spend the day together?”

“You don’t need permission to spend time with your sister. Once you’re done, we can talk.”

Damien finished drinking his wine as the children ate their lunch, after which Delia brought the dishes into the kitchen, but she ran to catch up to her father and brother just as they were at the door to the study.

“Xander?”

He turned around and she embraced him; she felt him wrap his arms around her. They hadn’t had a chance to talk since he had returned home, and most of the things that she wanted to tell him she wasn’t allowed to. She wanted to tell him how she had failed in her job as his protector, and that she’d die first before she ever let that happen again. It was only because he was spending time alone with Damien that she was willing to let him out of her sight.

“I don’t care what you did, for lots of reasons, but the most important one is that I wouldn’t care what you had to do to come back home to us, to me, and nothing you ever do could make me stop loving you.” 

He of course felt the same, but he could tell she was hurting and that whatever had happened, she blamed herself, which he knew wasn’t true. He shook his head. “Geez, Deedledork, get a grip.”

“I have no clue why you had to kill anyone; you’re such a skinny shrimp. Couldn’t you have just turned sideways and then they wouldn’t have been able to see you?” She gave him a once over, let out a derisive snort, and then took off back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

He went into the study and closed the door behind him. Damien stood in the middle of the room and Xander went to him, and was suddenly physically and emotionally surrounded by warmth, comfort, and love as his father hugged him. Under any other circumstance, he would have made light to undercut the serious tone, but this wasn’t just any circumstance.

Like Delia, he hadn’t been able to spend any time with him since yesterday. He held his son, not wanting to let him go.

“I have so many questions.”

The pair of them took a seat on the leather sofa, facing each other.

“I know and I’d like nothing more than to answer those questions for you right now, but not until this gets resolved. Please be patient and wait for a few days and then you’ll know everything.”

“Why does Delia think that what happened was her fault? Please don’t let her think that.”

“I’m going to talk to her right after I’m done talking to you. I want you to tell me everything and I want to know everything, do you understand?”

He told his father what had happened to him, starting with Mrs. Dixon acting weird, and finishing with the rescue on the boat.

“When I couldn’t feel Delia, that’s when I got scared and when Tom told me that someone had her...I tried to get away, but I couldn’t.” He was overcome with irrational panic.

“Nobody had your sister and even if someone did have her, it wouldn’t have been your fault if you wouldn’t have been able to get to her.”

“You know who took me.”

“Yes.”

There was a tremor of anger from his father; a tremor that was quickly pulled back until he could once again feel near serene calm. But it had been more than anger. It had been very brief, but he had experienced emotions that he had no clue how to describe.

“Are you going to kill him?”

Damien felt a few things from his son: a new understanding of what he could do and a coldness and distance towards people that had never been there before. The mention of the death of the man had not filled his youngest with fear, or hate or anger, but curiosity, wondering how such a feat would be pulled off without the offending party, namely himself, ending up in prison.

“I can’t tell you right now what’s going to happen, just please, please wait and you’ll know everything. What is it?” He now felt trepidation coming at him.

“I liked it.” His voice was quiet; he knew his father would be able to feel both his shame and pride as he admitted it. “I liked being able to control and manipulate them and I don’t think it was just because it helped get me out of there.” He didn’t want to tell him about the ravens; he was worried that his father would think he was crazy. “Am I going to go to jail?”

He struggled to maintain his composure and muted his happiness at Xander’s admission. “First, no, you are not going to go to jail or prison. Second, I’m not worried and I don’t think that you’re some kind of psycho for liking it. Who we are? We’re very powerful and it’s only right that you should feel pride and a sense of belonging because you tapped into the real you. Do you think you need to talk about what you did, or how you feel about it?”

“No, I don’t think so. Does that make me bad that I don’t feel horrible for what I did?”

“No.” Damien smiled at him.

“I didn’t feel the effects of the alcohol.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “The vomiting? I think that was nerves, not to mention having to look at and smell what was left of those assholes.  He gave me lots to drink, I should have been pissed, but.” He smiled at his father. “Patience, D-man?”

“Just a little while longer and then we’ll all be on the same page. Now, I’m going to talk to Delia and then you two can do whatever you want.”  They left the study, and he already knew where he’d find her…

In the Chapel, she was kneeling, deep in prayer and he stood by the door and watched his daughter. For the past three years, this room and everything else that went along with it had been the sole purview of the pair of them. Now, he was once again faced with the prospect of having to share the family history with one of his children and fear began to take a hold of him. It was a cold comfort, but at least he’d be too preoccupied with everything to do with taking care of who had taken his son to think about it.

“Don’t be scared.” She got up and came over to him.

“Easier said than done.” He kissed her forehead.

“Who took him?” 

“The two men whom he killed were Andrew Roots and Phillip Betters. The police think that Betters was the perpetrator of the rape and murder of some kids in Michigan.” Damien was silent for a moment. “The one behind it all was Brian Hughes. He, I, and others wanted some land; I got it, and he didn’t. The difference between Brian and myself is that I could afford to lose the money involved in greasing the wheels of bureaucracy to get what I wanted; he couldn’t. All the time, energy, and money it took for him to fight for what he wanted caused his business to suffer. He’s never fully recovered.”

“The first rule of gambling is never bet more than you can afford to lose.” She gave her father a curt nod of her head.

“Spoken like the future CEO and President of Thorn Industries…and nice to know that at least one of you listens to what I say.”

“He wants to be you, that’s why he took what’s yours. He’s jealous because you have what he wants, but instead of being happy with his life, he wants yours; but I think I just paraphrased thou shalt not covet.”

“As you discovered for yourself, a few of those so-called commandments are made to keep the plebs happy with their lot in life, as some should be. Those who don’t have what it takes to keep up with the Joneses, or in this case, the Thorns, shouldn’t be looking over into their neighbor’s yard; it just makes them cranky.”

“What are you going to do to him?”

He smirked. “Oh, it’s already happening. When this comes to a head, Brian is going to find out he’s been doing some interesting things since last night. Would you like to come with me? You can be there if you want.”

She thought about it but shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll decline the offer...only because Xander won’t be there. And now he gets to know who he is.”

He could feel her joy. “When this is all done. I’m not going to assume that he is going to be okay with what he finds out; and I’m not abandoning him to deal with Brian. He’s been in the dark this long, he can be in the dark a little longer. He’s got you and that will make the waiting bearable. However, I want you to drop all this business about it being your fault, because it wasn’t. Just a few more days, then, for better or worse, it will all be out in the open. Do we need to make a promise?” Damien held out his hand, ready to spit into it if necessary.

“I’m good.”

“Okay, so go find your brother and relax.”

She took off out of the Chapel, leaving him alone.

...666...  

The twins spent what was left of the day together. They also cooked dinner, with Delia making sure that her chicken pot pie wasn’t left off the menu. At ten, the head of the house called it a night and sent the children upstairs to change into their pajamas. Once everything downstairs was taken care of, he came up with Xander’s backpack in hand and gave it to him.

He knew that the car and what was left of Tom had been found. “What about school?  I don’t know what’s going on since I missed today.” 

Damien closed his eyes. “I see an early summer vacation for two Thorns.”

She feigned a shocked gasp. “Father, what delightfully naughty thing did you do?” 

He kept his eyes closed. “I see...firetrucks.”

“With that bitch, Ms. Coates still inside?” She crossed her fingers.

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “You’ll find out when you watch the news.”

She pouted. “You’re no fun.”

Xander shook his head. “I don’t understand. The school burned down?”

A sly smile crept across her mouth. “In a manner of speaking.”

Realization dawned on him, and he turned to his father. “You had the school burned down?”

Delia had gotten up on their father’s bed and then held her hands out to her brother, who dropped his backpack, took her hands and she pulled him up and looked at him, still smiling.

“Let me guess. In a manner of speaking?”

“Just think of it, no more of that stupid school!”

The pair of them began jumping.

“Okay, okay, you’re both glad. Please stop before you break it.”

She stopped and looked at her father. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Ha! Get out of that one, daddy-o.” Xander jumped off. 

Damien could do nothing but stare at his daughter. “Keep jumping on the bed if you want.”

She shrugged and carefully got down. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to anymore.”

“Oh God help us all, she’s turning into a teenaged-girl.” He closed his eyes. “I’m seeing something...a blanket fort...it’s being constructed in…wait...it’s fuzzy, the spirits are being difficult tonight...it’s...yes...in your room.” He opened his eyes and looked at his father.

“Yes, but.” He stopped them as they were about to take off. “Just because you aren’t going to school it doesn’t mean that this is a free-for-all. You both need your sleep, especially Xander and if there is carrying on at three in the morning when I am trying to sleep, you’ll both be sent back to your rooms.”

The pair of them, unperturbed by their father’s warning, left to raid the linen closet while he grabbed a pair of pajamas before his children commandeered the room, and went into the bathroom and changed.

The younger Thorns also grabbed flashlights, books, and edible provisions, including Mallomars which were Xander’s favorite cookie. His Milo, who didn’t want to be parted from his Master, was given the okay to come into the room and into the fort and then the frivolity got underway…

...666...

Damien read as giggles, titters, whispers, shushing, quiet barking, and other sundry noises issued from the blanket fort until he decided that one in the morning was late enough for them to be up and turned off his light and told his children to go to bed.

However, as obedient as they were, there was a camp out reputation to uphold and going to sleep right when their father told them to was unthinkable, so they carried on for a bit more, until Milo’s misstep forced Delia to turn on her flashlight.

“Bad Milo, that was my head.”

He made a noise between a bark and a woof, and the twins burst out laughing, as the dog seemed to be apologizing for inadvertently stepping on her head.

“Sleep. Now.”

The tone coming from their father’s bed made it clear that enough was enough. Delia and Alexander turned off the flashlight and things gradually got quieter until Milo got between the two of them and both Thorn children relaxed and eventually fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Alexander had been taken on a Tuesday, and it was three days later that Damien asked that he be left alone; both children agreed only if he came down to dinner later that day. The pair of them puttered around the house all morning until Xander suggested that they go to the barn. They ate lunch, cleaned up; it was one by the time the siblings left the house to go out back. 

While the Thorns still had horses, they were no longer kept at the house; Damien was too busy to ride, and Delia and Xander preferred to do other things on a regular basis. If anyone wanted to go riding, the people who boarded the horses were contacted and the animals were brought to the house, ready to go and then taken away once the day was done. Since the stable was no longer used for horses, it had been remodeled and it was now a heated/air-conditioned recreation area for the children, housing all kinds of games and sporting equipment, including a trampoline.

They used the bows and arrows, doing target practice before the two of them got onto the trampoline, bouncing, and doing flips until Xander collapsed onto his back and his sister followed suit. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling.  

“Father is going to kill that man tonight.”

Delia had also sensed a coldness in him that hadn’t been there before, and she got up on her elbows, looked at her brother and smiled. “How did you figure that out, Sherlock?”

“He’s been quieter and quieter over the past few days and he’s...tense and anxious. I hate to be a stick in the mud, but shouldn’t we be worrying about, oh I don’t know, him getting caught and going to prison?” 

Delia had to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing, though she knew that he would be able to feel her amusement. “The very short answer to that question is no and once this all taken care of, you’ll know why we don’t get into trouble when we do those sorts of things.”

He sat up. “Is it bad?” He paused. “Are we bad?”

She got up, walked over to him, sat and put her forehead against his. “Please, please, please don’t ask me about anything else anymore because I’ll tell you and father will be beyond furious with me, but good and bad? That has nothing to do with us; we are so much bigger than that. Will you tell me what happened to you?” So far, she had avoided the topic for a few reasons, not the least of which of it was a reminder of her failure to keep him safe.

“On one condition.”

“What?”

“You stop thinking that what happened to me was your fault.”

“I know it wasn’t, it’s just that...I know it wasn’t my fault.”

He told her everything and when he was done, she began laughing. “He shot Tom?”

Xander got up and pretended that he was their erstwhile driver getting shot in the head, but much more theatrically as he took advantage of the fact that he was on a trampoline, which now looked like Tom had died while doing flips and bouncing on the pavement like some kind of cartoon character. Once he felt like he had exhausted all the creative possibilities of the many deaths of Tom the chauffeur, and had sufficiently amused Delia, they decided they would play with the dogs and take them for a walk.

At the door to the stables, he paused, and was silent before turning to his sister. “I understand now…what you mean when you say that we’re different. When I looked at them, they weren’t like us.”

She tried very hard to control her pride and happiness, but she failed miserably.

“I also know that if I were anyone else, I’d be dead right now and you and Damien would...” but he couldn’t finish the thought. “I told father that I liked it and not just because it got me out of trouble, I just...liked it.”  

She wanted to tell him good; that it was good that he liked what he had done and that he was so much more ready to hear the truth than he realized. Instead, she took one of his hands and smiled as he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

“How can anything that helped you get out of that horrible situation be bad? How could anything that brought my brother back to me unharmed be bad? Do I think it’s bad?”

He reached out to her; he knew she was controlling herself, hiding things from him; but he also knew that she was being as honest as she could be, and he couldn’t sense anything from her that made him think that what he had done was bad.

“No.”

She only gave him a wider smile; he smiled back and the two of them took off to find the dogs.

...666...  

Dinner had been quick. His father had come down to eat, but then had immediately disappeared back upstairs. Even Delia at one point had excused herself to go to her room, which left him alone when the doorbell rang at around eleven. When he opened the door, Anna was standing there, looking more like her grim-faced uncle than herself.

“Hey, Anna Banana, what’s up?” He stepped aside to let her in and then with sudden realization, quickly turned to look up at her: she was here because of what had happened to him. He looked outside and there was Thomas standing by his car, smoking. Whatever was going on was much bigger than he imagined. He didn’t bother telling Damien that anyone was here; he was sure that his father would already know…

He had spent the day in his room and in the Chapel and then had come down to join his children for dinner and then had gone back upstairs to dress for the evening. He knew Anna and Thomas had arrived, and before going downstairs, he stopped at his daughter’s door and knocked.

“Hang on...okay, come in.”

He opened the door. “Anna’s here; are you going to come down?”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“Delia?”

“It’s nothing important and not anything that you need to worry about right now.”

“Okay, don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.”

She had given her father a smile as he had closed the door; now that he was gone, the smile disappeared. She lifted the file folders that she had used to hide the pamphlet she had been looking at and let a pang of regret well up in her chest and then quickly stifled her ache. She scooped up the other pamphlets and letters, threw them in the garbage and then went downstairs to join the rest of her family…

Xander was leaning against the banister as Delia came down the stairs, and as he stood there, he was struck with the illogical notion that of everyone standing in the foyer, including Anna, he was the one that didn’t fit in. He looked up at his father. This was happening; Damien Thorn was leaving the house to kill someone because that someone had tried to hurt him. He was suddenly awash in dread, but he seemed to be the only one who was afraid.

“I’d like the both of you to walk me to the car.”

The twins quickly put on their shoes and followed their father outside. Thomas stepped away to give them privacy.

“Tell me.”

“What if you get caught? What if you go to prison? What if this man is ready for you and kills you? What will happen to me and Deedle?”

He pulled his son to him, hugged him, then looked Xander in the eyes. “None of that is going to happen. I promise.”

“What about Anna and Thomas? They won’t tell?” He had lowered his voice.

“No, for more reasons than we can get into right now.”

“And you’ll be back tonight?”

“Yes. You both can wait up for me and do whatever you want. Anna is here to keep an eye on things. This is so close to being over and then you and I will talk, and you will find out everything, okay?”

He nodded. “I love you and be careful.”

“I love you, too and I will.” 

Delia must have asked for privacy because the next thing he knew, Xander had taken off back up to the house, but stood by the door waiting for her. “Watch your brother and try to keep him calm.”

“Will do.”

He coldly smiled down at his daughter. “Tell me.” 

“Make sure the last minutes or hours of his worthless life are spent regretting the moment he decided to hurt us.”

“You can count on it.”

She ran back to her brother and they both watched as Damien, then Thomas, got into the car and left. Inside the house, they closed and locked the door.

“Nothing for us to do but wait until he comes home.”

Xander let himself be reassured by her confidence and they went off to try to occupy themselves until their father returned…

...666...

His anger had emerged when Delia told him that her brother had been taken, and between then and now, it had only grown until he needed most his energy to control the rage inside of him. He had even considered dealing with Brian physically...hunting him down and ripping him apart with his bare hands and teeth but had thought better of it. However, while he wouldn’t physically tear him apart, it didn’t mean that the last moments of Brian Hughes’ life wouldn’t be spent wishing that he had never been born.

It was after midnight when they arrived at Fox Lake. They walked towards a large stone house, located on a cul-de-sac, and the only house for nearly half a mile in any direction. Charles sat in his car, ready to take his boss home once everything with Brian was done. Damien needed no key to open the locked door and waited downstairs while Thomas made his way up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Upstairs, the door had been left open. Thomas smiled. He had been here once already early in the day and had left a present for the person who had foolishly decided to interfere in the Thorns’ life. Inside the room, it was dark, save for the moonlight coming in from the large bay window. He stood and watched as Brian, who had been under Damien’s thrall the instant Xander had been rescued, stood in the middle of the room, swaying, unable to move or speak. But that changed the moment he reached over and flipped on the overhead light.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

He watched as Brian struggled to move from where he was standing but could not. He could move his arms, head, and the rest of him, but leaving the spot was not possible.

“Excellent question, Mr. Hughes. Your due is what is going the fuck on.”

“Who are you?”

“Who I am is irrelevant. The better question is…for whom do I work.”

“And who is that?”

“Really? After what you did you need to ask that?” He raised an eyebrow at him. “Though there is a total lack of security in the place. Not even a double lock on the door. Very careless if you ask me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“The tone in your voice says that statement is a boldfaced, fucking lie. You know perfectly well what you did…and for whom I work; but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I’m sure you’ve been experiencing an interesting phenomenon over the past few days...not remembering doing things...lost time...being somewhere and not remembering how you got there…” Thomas smiled at the realization that sat on the man’s face. “All of it has been courtesy of my employer; and my what interesting things you’ve been doing…embezzling company funds; being seen purchasing and using illegal drugs; sexual relations with dubious women who hire themselves out for money. You’ve squandered away your children’s future education by taking the money set aside for their college years and gambling it all away. You’re brought your company to financial ruin. All of that has culminated tonight. In a fit of rage, you murdered the last woman whose services you bought.

Brian was able to turn his head; on the bed was a rather attractive woman with long blonde hair and brown eyes and very dead. It was like a damn burst, and the truth of what he had done over the past few days came crashing down on him. He made a frantic attempt to get away, but he couldn’t move.

“I didn’t kill her.”

“Yes, I know you didn’t kill her because I did. I’m sure you’d like to know how my employer was able to accomplish such seemingly impossible tasks. The answer is very simple: Damien Thorn isn’t a man; he’s the Antichrist, born of Satan. I, and others, which include members of Chicago’s finest, help and serve him and his Father. It wasn’t enough just to kill, and believe me, he is going to, but he wanted you to wreak the kind of devastation within your family as you tried to do in his. You tried to take something that didn’t belong to you; something that belonged to God and that is a big no-no for him.

“Alexander is Damien’s successor and as such, inherited his father’s abilities; he simply got Andrew to kill Phillip, then he killed Andrew. It never was reported; the matter was handled privately, so your death will in way, shape, or form be tied to Damien, or your futile attempt to teach him a lesson. The boat was destroyed in a ‘accident,’ and the person who owned the boat, which wasn’t you, will no doubt be compensated for its loss. Your demise will be the result of a coronary incurred from your sexual liaison with the latest and last women whom you paid for sex. An ‘anonymous tip’ will be called in to the police about screams coming from this very house, and when the police arrive, they’ll find you, and her, and then all those interesting things that you’ve been doing will be discovered.”

“Please…”

“My God doesn’t dole out mercy so easily. I believe you told Phillip to have fun raping and murdering a twelve-year-old boy. Damien won’t be having fun; if he were anyone else but who he is, he would have lost his son and his daughter would have lost a brother. But debts must be paid, Mr. Hughes, and the debt you owe to him will be paid with your life.”

Brian could hear footfalls on the stairs.

“You should have let your bad business decision go, but you didn’t. Now, there isn’t anyone who can save you.

Thomas left and Damien walked in the room. Gone was any trace of the man; in his place stood an unearthly being, part of Satan and in possession of powers no human being could stand against and survive.

“Ple…”

A tic of a head to the right, and Brian’s vocal cords were severed as blood poured out of his mouth. A scream began in his throat, which the Antichrist quickly stifled. The man was crying now and had pissed himself…

Into the man’s head he went and gave to him all the rage that he had bottle up; it was unleashed like daggers, but that wasn’t all…humans…such delicate creatures…the brain…so many pathways and synapses where a person can be made to experience so many things…pain on a level nearly inconceivable…a heart that can be made to beat as fast as a hummingbird’s then stopped dead in its track only to made to beat normally again…all in the span of minutes. Lungs…emptied…asphyxiating…clawing for air…the lung filled up again so fast, there was choking…the mind…so easily manipulated into thinking so many things were happening when they really weren’t…the feel of the neck of a loved one…a daughter…a son…a wife…snapped in your own hands…to have your own son suffer rape and torture in the place of another…it was all as endless as the imagination of the individual who could murder the Ambassador to Great Britain while he sat in the comfort of his home in Chicago…  

On and on it went, until Damien Thorn had poured it all out into the body of Brian Hughes, and when he was done, he simply stopped the man’s heart, and this time, it would not be started again…

With a gasp, he staggered back with exhaustion and fell against a desk, sending its matching chair to the floor with a loud thud. Moments later, Thomas was at the bedroom door, but he waved him away and reaching into himself, he drew on his final energy reserves to get himself to the car and then stay awake on the ride home…     

…666…  

While he was gone, the younger Thorns tried as best they could to keep themselves busy, but finally gave up and sat on the foyer steps and quietly waited for their father to return. While their dogs lay patiently on the floor beside them, Damien’s dog paced around like a man waiting for his daughter to come home from her first date.

It was just after four when the pair heard a car pull into the driveway. Delia got to the front door first and flung it open as Charles parked the car in front of the house.

Anna, who could no more relax than the twins, came out to join them.

Charles walked behind Damien as he slowly made his way to the house.

“Anna, will you please give us some privacy.” 

She nodded at Delia, turned and went back to the kitchen.

Xander couldn’t take his eyes off his father; he had never seen him like this…white as newly fallen snow…hair drenched with sweat…his face straining under the effort to try to stop himself from collapsing where he stood.

Charles went to step inside when Delia stopped him. “We have him.”  

“But...”

“It’s okay. He’s home and we’ll take care of him.”

“Okay, but you call if you need anything.” He waited until the Thorns acknowledged him with a nod and then he turned and walked to the car, got in and drove away.

 All the dogs were whining and nuzzling Damien’s legs, trying to help the Master of the house to get better.

“Please let go and let us help you.” Xander put his arm around his father’s waist, grabbed his right arm and put it around his own shoulders.

“That’s bad. If he lets go, he’ll collapse in the hall, and we’ll never get him upstairs.” Delia followed her brother and put her arm around her father’s waist and his arm around her shoulders. “Just hang on a little longer, daddy.”  

The pair of them could feel his hesitation; he was considering trying to make it up the stairs on his own, but he must have thought better of it as he let them lead the way.

As they got to the landing on the second floor, and walked with him passed his bedroom, Xander realized that they were taking him to the forbidden room. He helped Delia bring their father up the stairs and he collapsed against the wall beside the door nearest to the knob. She leaned against him, putting all of her weight behind it, no doubt worried that if she let him go, he’d fall down.

She turned to her brother. “Xander…”

“It’s okay. You do what you gotta do; and you get better, D-man.” He reached up and kissed his father’s cheek and took off down the stairs, leaving them alone.

She reached out, and while the door to the Chapel was closed and locked, she turned the knob, and it opened for her. Her father walked inside, collapsed back-first against the wall to his left, slid down, and was unconscious before his ass hit the floor.

She removed his jacket, socks, and shoes. She felt too uncomfortable taking off his pants, so she carefully laid him on his side, folded up his jacket and put it under his head. She then took off to his room, grabbing a pair of pajamas, and then in the linen closet, grabbed pillows and a blanket and returned. She replaced his jacket with the pillow, covered him with the blanket, and left his night clothes beside him. She leaned over and kissed her father’s cheek.

Before she left, she closed her eyes and offered a prayer of thanks to God that He had brought Damien safe home and asked to help make her father well. She closed the door but found that the door was no longer locked. His Milo had come upstairs, and she didn’t need to instruct him to guard his Master; he simply lay in front of the door and anyone attempting to pass into the Chapel who neither she nor Xander would be eaten alive.  

Downstairs, she found everyone in the kitchen, where Anna made cocoa; Delia grabbed the mug meant for her.

“I was going to go home, but I’m not leaving until he’s back on his feet. I’ll sleep in one of the guest rooms.”  

The three of them finished their drinks and once everything was closed up downstairs, the trio headed upstairs, the dogs in tow. Once pajamas and toothbrushes were retrieved for the twins, everyone made their way to Damien’s room, where the dogs were already waiting. Delia went to the chest of drawer containing night clothes and under things, took out a pair of pajamas and handed them to her.

“Thanks. You both sleep as late as you want, and I’ll see you both when you get up.” 

“Sure thing.” He turned to go to the bathroom but stopped and looked back at her. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on but thank you for helping us.”

“Anytime, Xandman.” She smiled at him and watched as he went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “Is Damien going to be alright?” Anna kept her voice low but doubted Xander could hear her over the running water.

“I think so. He’s better now; he’s not angry. His body’s shut right down and hopefully he just needs rest.”  

“If you need to talk to me tomorrow, we can do that.”  

“Thanks, Anna Banana.” 

“You are more than welcome, Delia Fobelia.” Anna let herself out of Damien’s bedroom and closed the door as she left.

She quickly changed into her pajamas and when Xander was done in the bathroom, she got in and brushed her teeth; he was already in bed by the time she was done. Once she was in the bed, he shut off the lamp on the bedside table. She pulled the covers up to her chin; they smelled like her father.

“Is he okay?” 

“Yes, but releasing all that anger that was inside of him, and whatever he did tonight, drained him. He needs rest. I’m sure the plan was to talk to you tomorrow, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”  

“I’ve never seen him like that.” His voice was small in the darkness.

“I have. Not the tired part, but I’ve seen him looking like that.”  

“When?” He reached out and began stroking his dog’s head in an attempt to get some comfort.

“In my…nightmare where Damien gets killed.” Her voice, like his, seemed small in the darkness.

Xander didn’t bother asking her to elaborate; it was too late, and she wouldn’t anyway. The explanation for all of this was going to have to wait at least one more day.

But mentioning the vision was the worst possible thing for her to have done. She was sent back in time to waking up in the middle of the night fearing that their father was dead. But it wasn’t only that. She felt lonesome. She wanted to throw off the covers and go sleep with Damien in the Chapel, but she knew that her father wouldn’t want that, and she’d be leaving Xander by himself. She had a brother, but he seemed so far away from her that she might as well be sleeping alone.

“Delia?” 

She couldn’t take anymore. She wanted her father. She wanted to tell her brother everything…that their father was in God’s presence right now, being healed and made better, but she couldn’t, and she burst into tears.

He put his arm around her, and she buried her face into his shoulder. Her dog moved closer to her, and reached up and licked his Mistress’ face, but she kept crying.

“Deedle, I’m here, you’re not alone.” He held her and sent his love to her hoping that that would make her feel better.

Once she was done crying, she sniffled and hiccupped and realized that her brother was handing her some tissues. “Thanks.” She took them and blew her nose.

“Come on, dork, let’s get some sleep.” 

She turned to face him, and they put their foreheads together. “I love you, forever and always.”

“I love you, always and forever, though all this keeping me in the dark is sincerely testing that love, Nag.” He smiled at her.

“Patience, Annoying One.” She smiled back, knowing it was only her brother who could make her feel better despite everything that was going on.

Both of them closed their eyes, relaxed and succumbing to the darkness and tranquility; and surrounded by the scent of their father, they fell asleep.

Chapter Text

When Delia woke up, both her dog and her brother were gone. She looked at the alarm clock; it was ten seventeen, much earlier than she thought it would be given how late it was when they had fallen asleep. In the kitchen, she found that everyone, except Thomas, was still in their pajamas.

“Someone should have told me I should have dressed for breakfast. How are you this morning, Junior?”

“Very good, thank you.”

Her father was absent, and she knew that he was still asleep. She went to her brother, stood beside him, and punched him in the arm. “Morning.” 

“Morning, Nag. I’ll get your food.” He had gotten up an hour before she had and had come downstairs just as Anna had been making breakfast and had cooked one of Cecile’s chicken pot pies for her.

“I’m off.  Xandman, I’m going to borrow your sister for a minute.”

“Okay.”

She followed Thomas to the study, and he closed the door.

“It’s all over. It will be on the evening news tonight. You can rest now because this is done, okay?” 

“Yes.” She smiled; but for her, it wouldn’t be done until Damien knew it was all taken care of and that his plan had come off the way he had wanted, but a huge weight was lifted of her. She extended her hand to him. “Thank you, Thomas, for everything. From Xander, too.”

He shook her hand and smiled. “He thanked me already, and you’re welcome. It’s my duty to protect you and him as well as your father. I was there the day you both were born, so I have an especially soft spot for the both of you. Your dad will be okay, just let him sleep. Anna is going to stay until he wakes up, but if you need anything in the meantime, you let me know and it gets done tout suite. Capish?”

“Capisco.”

She saw him to the door and then went back into the kitchen, where her brother had her breakfast waiting, a large slice of chicken pot pie with some fruit and yogurt. Delia sat and began to eat.

“I thought we could bake a cake today.” He had already eaten, but he helped himself to more bacon and toast.

“What do you mean?”

He cocked his left eyebrow at her. “I really don’t know how much simpler I could have made that sentence.”

“Like make a cake from...not a mix? Like Cecile does?”

“It’s not rocket surgery.”

“Sure, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He laughed. “It’s okay, I’ll show you.”

“Since when does he bake?”

She shrugged and looked at Anna. “He wants Cecile to teach him how to cook, but apparently he already knows how to bake a cake and make pasta and sauce.” 

“Okay, I’m going to nap in the family room. I trust you two won’t burn down the house while I’m sleeping?”

“Well, I can’t speak for myself, but I’ll leave the cooking in Xander’s capable hands, and we may stand a chance.”

He had begun to get all the ingredients ready, and she watched in amazement as he was doing all of this without following a written recipe. “So, why cooking...and apparently baking?”

He turned to her. “I don’t know. I just like putting all the ingredients together and making something new. You’ve eaten lots of food I’ve made. Last spring break, when we didn’t go anywhere because Damien couldn’t leave work and you went to the office? I stayed home and helped Cecile cook. She didn’t want to teach me anymore; she wasn’t sure if Damien would consider it...unmanly for his son to be cooking, but now she can properly teach me.”

“Like how to make chicken pot pie!?” 

“I already know how to make chicken pot pie; you’ve eaten chicken pot pie that I have made. You and Damien both like beef Wellington…”

“Yes...” 

“Well, the last time you had it, I was the one who made it.” He smiled coyly at her.

“There just might yet be some advantages to putting up with you, Annoying One.” She let him know that she was only joking. “Most of the greatest chefs in the world are men, so father is not going to care if you cook.” She brought her plate to the kitchen and began to help her brother.

Whatever talents Delia possessed they apparently didn’t include baking. At one point, he had had to stop her from mixing up baking powder and baking soda and inadvertently ruining the chocolate cake. While it was in the oven, he made frosting, and once the cake was assembled, they waited for Anna to get up.

Xander let out their father’s dog to heed nature’s call and as he stood there watching Milo eventual make his way back to the house, he was hit with a more than unpleasant thought.

“What if we have bodyguards now?”

“I don’t think so…at least, I hope not.” She didn’t want bodyguards for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which was that she would take it as a personal slight on her ability to keep her brother safe.

“How long do you think he’ll sleep?”

“I don’t know. I’m not going to worry at all today; but if he’s not up by tomorrow, I’m going to get him.”

Once Anna got up from her nap, the three of them had cake with milk.

“This is delicious. You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.” She lifted her glass of milk to toast him. “However, as tasty as this is, I don’t think your father would be happy with me serving you both cake for dinner. There’s Chan’s. I can go, or Thomas…”

“Not Chan’s. Not without father.” He shook his head.

“Something new, then?”

“Something old. I say pizza from Vittorio’s.”

“Delia?”

“I second the motion.”

“Motion passes. Pizza it is.”

...666...

Everyone passed the day not doing very much of anything. When dinner time came, it consisted of two large pies with the works, minus anchovies, while dessert consisted of cake and ice cream. Once everyone was done, Anna and Xander cleaned while she watched the news, and there it was, the top story: local businessman dead in aftermath of sordid business dealings. A cold smile sat on her face.

“And that, Mr. Hughes, is what you get for fucking with the Antichrist.” 

At night, the three of them played cards and board games. When it was time for bed, Anna went back to her room while the twins made a blanket for in Xander’s room.

However, inside the fort, there was noticeably less frivolity than there had been when they had built it in Damien’s room, which seemed to upset Delia’s dog, who took it upon himself to kick start shenanigans. He got down on his front paws with his ass in the air and wagged his tail, looking to be playful, and tugged at the blanket for good measure.

“No tonight, maybe when Damien is feeling better.” He gave her dog a conciliatory scratch behind the ear.

Milo plopped himself down between the Thorns and closed his eyes. The twins read for a bit, until Xander got out to turn off the lights, and once back inside the fort, they both settled down and eventually fell asleep.

...666...  

The minute she was awake, she knew that her father was too. Xander was already gone, but she jumped up and took off like a shot out of the bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen where her brother was eating his breakfast.

Damien turned and waited for her as she took a running leap into his arms.

“Your fine now!” She wrapped her arms and legs around him, squeezed, then let go and pulled back and looked at him; he looked better than he had been since Xander had been taken and he felt better, no anger, no rage, just Damien.

“Yes, I am, thank-you. Too bad I missed yesterday; there’s cake.” 

She jumped down out of her his arms. “It’s very, very good. Did you try some?”

“After I’ve eaten breakfast.”   

She looked at the table: eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns were piled on his plate and a smaller plate beside it held a mountain of toast. Damien sat and continued to eat, and she went to the fridge to get the leftover pizza from yesterday, turned on the toaster oven and put in her pizza and waited for it to be heated up.

“Did you both behave for Anna?”

Delia tilted her head. “Are you asking me that?”

“I can’t just call out your brother, that looks bad.”

“You’ll be happy to know I only took slight advantage of her.”

“Glad to hear it.”

He finally finished his breakfast but cut himself a slice of Xander’s cake and took a bite.

“This is really good.” He put another forkful in his mouth.

He put in an invisible monocle into his right eye. “Don’t sound so surprised, father. After all, I am a Thorn and whatever it is we do, we do it very well.”

“How did your sister do at baking?”

He let out a snort. “Don’t ask. I inherited the culinary genes in the family that’s all you need to know.” 

“I was thinking maybe we could go riding…if anyone is interested? The house could do with a good clean, so we could go riding while the house gets a going over.”

Apparently, Damien had no intention of talking to his son today either, which, for certain reasons, pleased her. “Sure, I’ll go!” 

“I’m in.” 

“Xander, you go up and get dressed.”

They left, her brother to go upstairs, and Damien to his study; he returned with a newspaper and handed it to her; the front page was all about what had happened to Brian.

“I saw it on the news last night.” She took the paper and would read it upstairs later. “Is everything taken care of? I mean as far as you’re concerned?”

“Yes. How about you?”

She smiled. “Then everything is taken care of for me as well.”

“We’ll talk later?”

She nodded and went back to eating and once she was done, she went upstairs and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.

While they waited for the horses, the cleaning company came and an hour later, the people with the horses arrived and the Thorns left to go riding…

They rode for most of the morning and into the afternoon, riding through the woods behind the house enjoying the day, which was warm but not too humid, and each other’s company. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones who had thought the day was suitable for a ride. They came across a “neighbour” from a few miles away who had also decided that the day was perfect for a ride, and they had accompanied her part way back to her house. Rumbling stomachs prompted Xander to suggest a race back home with the loser having to buy dinner at Chan’s.

While the twins were good riders, they were nowhere near as good as their father, who easily beat them back to the house; Xander came in second, leaving Delia last.

Damien went in to clean up and make lunch, Monte Cristos, while the younger Thorns stayed outside and watched the people who had brought the horses brush them and make sure the animals were properly cooled down. They then loaded them into the truck and left.

When they came in, they washed their hands, changed their clothes, and came down just as lunch was going on the table.

 “I’ll be glad when Cecile returns, and I can go back to being the one who eats the food instead of making it.”

Everyone did their own thing until dinner time, where Damien called a car to take everyone to Chan’s and per losing Xander’s challenge, Delia paid for everyone’s meal.

Back at the house, it was thankfully her night for a conversation, and after she and Damien spent some time in the Chapel, he waited outside her door while she changed into her pajamas. He sat on her bed, and he sat beside her, putting his arm around her.

“Are you going to talk to him tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I just wanted to relax today and spend time with both of you. I didn’t scare you or your brother, did I?” 

“He was more freaked out than I was, but I knew you just needed rest. Are we going to have bodyguards now?”

“No, no bodyguards. But from now on, only certain people are going to drive you both anywhere until the pair of you are old enough to drive yourselves. And when business dealings don’t go so well, more caution will be taken in regard to the effected parties. I was always so focused on people who might kill me for religious reasons, I forgot to pay closer attention to things a little closer to home.”  

“I see.” She paused. “Were you a beatnik?”

“I was born in 1950; that’s a little young to have been a beatnik.”

“Were you a hippie?”

“I went to a military academy...do I look like a hippie to you?”

“With a hippie van and a beard.” Delia couldn’t stop laughing, picturing her father driving around in a VW van, wearing tie-dye t-shirts and sandals.

After she had recovered herself, she sat in silence. “What it is it? Something’s going on.”

She looked up at him. “Damien, who are you?”

At first, he wasn’t sure what she was asking, but he took a guess. “I was born of jackal and conceived by Satan, His only begotten son. I am the Antichrist, sent here to rescue humanity from the so-called god. Satan lives in me so that humanity can come to embrace its true destiny.” 

Delia had closed her eyes. He didn’t need to ask if he had answered her question; he could feel that he had. But there was also some sadness mixed in with her delight.

She opened her eyes. “That’s the last time that I’m going to be the only one who knows that.” She leaned against him. “I won’t be special anymore.”

“Deedla Forn.” Damien made sure she was looking at him. “You will always be special. Who’s my right hand, well, I guess I can’t say girl anymore, so...young woman?”

“I am.”

“Always, Junior...I can stop calling you Junior if you want.”

She smiled up at him. “Please don’t. I’ll let you know if I don’t like it anymore.”

“I want you to know how proud I am of you. These past three years have been tough; having to hide things from him or exclude him. You never once lost your temper with him...you never lost your temper with him over this particular issue.” Damien raised an eyebrow at her.

She looked aghast. “Father, never. I am the older sister and it’s my job to model proper behaviour for Alexander.” 

“Uh-huh. This is tougher than it was with you. First, it’s more important that Xander accepts who and what he is. Second, I had two ‘ins’ with you: you’ve always felt different, and you had visions. There was never any need to convince you that something much larger than yourself was at work, you always knew, even if you couldn’t explain it. Even if he now knows that he’s different, he still might not be ready to know exactly how different.”

“I suppose it’s pointless to tell you to get some sleep...would you like me to stay up with you?”

“Thanks for the offer, but one of us should be well rested for tomorrow.” He stood up so that she could get under the covers and lay down.

“It’ll all be fine, you’ll see.”

“I hope so. Is there anything else?”

“Will we still keep having our talks?”

“Of course, both with you and him; and once he has settled down with all of this, we’ll do something just us, okay?”  

She smiled. “Okay.”  

“If you’re not up already when I get up, I’ll wake you up. We’ll go over some things before I start talking with your brother.”

“Yes, sir.” She hugged him and held on. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too. Right to sleep?”

“Right to sleep, promise.” She crossed her heart.

 Her Milo dog jumped on her bed, and he gave him a scritch behind the ear went to the door. “Good night, Deedle.”

“Good night, hippie.” She threw him a peace sign, shut off her light, turned over and pulled the covers up to her chin.

Damien closed her door and made his way to his youngest’s room; he opened the door.

As usual, his son was a lump under the covers in the middle of the bed and as Damien stood there, he tried to push down the fear that was growing inside him. More than with his daughter, he wanted his talk with Xander to go well, and not just because it was important that he accepted who and what he was.

Part of him was looking forward to the talk. It would be the first rite of passage that the two of them would share, like teaching him how to shave and talking to him about girls. Damien had gone through all of it on his own and while he had felt his Father, he hadn’t had anyone with whom he could have shared his thoughts and feelings; his son would have him. He closed the door and made his way to the Chapel.

Both he and Delia could see by Xander’s reaction to things that he was more prepared than he realized to hear what he had to say. However, everything in his world was about to change and how he would handle that was a mystery.

Once inside, he closed the door, walked to the back of the room, and sat, his back against the wall. He hoped that he had been exaggerating to her about not getting any sleep, but he was beginning to see that might just be the case. Damien closed his eyes, not with tiredness, but in concentration, trying to find a way through all the fear, worry, anticipation, and everything else to reach his son in a way that would neither traumatize him, nor hide the truth about who and what they really were.

Chapter Text

Delia woke up on her own. She showered, dressed, and grabbed her knapsack, throwing in the work that hadn’t gotten done since everything with Xander had happened. Downstairs in the kitchen, her father had made BLTs for breakfast.  

“I don’t know how long this will take. You’ll be taking care of yourself for a good part of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I don’t want it to seem as if I’m abandoning you.” 

“I don’t think that. You can’t be in two places at once. Well, you kind of can, but not physically. I’ll be fine.” 

“Now, the other option is to go over to Anna’s house; it’s her day off. Thomas is at work right now so you can’t go over there unless you want to spend the day with Caroline...though Aaron might be there.” 

“How can you think that I’d leave you and Xander at a time like this?” She gave him her crazy talk look. “This is family stuff. That means the whole family is here and we deal with everything together.”  

“I won’t argue with that.”

“I’ll take some food downstairs and do my work. Since he was taken, neither one of us has had a chance to do any work and our teacher is a real task master.” She went into the kitchen and began rummaging through the fridge.

“Are you sure? Because I can talk to your brother upstairs somewhere.”

Her head popped up over the door. “And break family tradition by having an important talk not in the study?” 

“Okay, but if you go outside, do not go far from the house; and if you don’t want to do your work that’s fine. I think your teacher will let it go given the circumstances.”

“I need something to concentrate on while you’re having your life altering discussion with Alexander and I think we both know that I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want you far away from the house.” He got up and left to go upstairs.

She couldn’t help but smile at her father’s overprotectiveness. While he was gone, she brought snacks and drinks downstairs to the rec room. She came back up to finish her breakfast, and not long after that he returned noticeably annoyed.

“I hope that Armageddon doesn’t happen before noon, or we are going to be one man short.” He put two sandwiches on a plate, added fruit salad, grabbed a container of yogurt, and put it on the table. 

She laughed. “You should have let me go up and get him; he can’t ignore me.” She was still sitting and eating when her brother, showered and dressed, joined her and began devouring his breakfast.

“Sleeping Beauty.” 

“Nag.” He got up to get a glass of orange juice and came back. “Care to have another go at baking a cake? I’ll let you drive this time.” 

“I think you’ll be otherwise engaged today.”

He looked over at his father.

“We are going to have a talk.”  

“About everything? About what Delia knows? Everything?” 

“As much as I think you can handle in one day.” 

“Are you coming?” He looked at his sister, who shook her head.

“No. This is a special time for you and Damien, a bonding experience. As much as I would have liked for you to know everything sooner, I wouldn’t trade that day for anything.”  

He was once again filled with doubt and anxiety. What if what his father told him was horrible? What if they were bad people? Would his family still love him if he hated them after he found out the truth? Everything just kept spinning in his head until he thought he was going to explode.

“Please stop. It’s big, but you’re already more equipped to handle it than you realize.” 

He reached out to her to feel what she was feeling. “Why are you jealous?”  

“You get to find out about everything for the first time. You get to go upstairs and feel...” she stopped herself before she blurted out the rest. “It’s all new for you.”   

When breakfast was done, everyone got up from the table; she grabbed her backpack and turned to her brother. “Don’t be scared, no matter what you feel from father. He’s worried, but that’s all him.” She turned to her father. “Don’t scare him.” She hugged Damien and took her and her father’s dog with her; Xander’s Milo remained upstairs with his Master.

“Come on.” He put his hand on Alexander’s shoulders and walked with him to the study. Once inside, Damien closed the door.

“Should I do something or...”  

“No, this is all me. The talk with your sister was a little different because I had a way of opening up the conversation.”  

“That was the night that she woke up with a nightmare and you stayed home from work the next day.” 

“Yes, let’s sit on the couch.” He sat at one end while Xander sat in the middle; both were turned to face the other.  

“D-man, why don’t you just tell me?” 

“It’s not that easy and I’m interested in knowing your take on some things. I was trying to think of an ‘in’ and I think I came up with something. When I had this conversation with Delia, we got on to something that happened at school. I don’t know if you’ll remember.”  

“Try me.” 

“She told me that one time one of your teachers had you read from Paradise Lost.”

“Mrs. Travers.”  

“Delia said you both had an…unusual reaction to the story. Do you remember what that was?” 

“Steve Paret, asshole, and I don’t give a fuck if he is dead, said that if it weren’t for Eve listening to Satan, we’d all still be living in the Garden of Eden. I asked Mrs. Travers what they did all day and she said not much, and I said that that sounded boring, and Delia agreed.”

“What else?” He made himself relax knowing that if he were tense, his son would be too.

“We said that we didn’t want to be stupid, or have to depend on God to decide what we should and shouldn’t know. Delia said that Eve wanted to know things for herself and that’s why she listened to Satan. I told Steve that he was too stupid to learn anything and called him an idiot.”

“In class?” 

“No, that was after, at recess when we went outside. So, then Mrs. Travers talked about how God threw Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden and Delia was appalled that any father could do that to his children, especially God. I said Satan was like Prometheus and had given people the ability to think for themselves. Did she tell you what happened at recess?” 

Damien frowned. “I don’t think so.” 

“Asshole wouldn’t let up and said that all women were sinners and that the Bible said so. He said women had to get married so that their husbands could tell them what to do because women couldn’t think for themselves and had to have a man tell them right from wrong; otherwise, all women are whores if they’re not married because then they commit fornication and make men be sinners too. Then she said that she wasn’t ever getting married and then Steve said she’d be a whore and then she proceeded to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.”

“She told me the whore part later, and that’s pretty much what I heard, but she left out the part where she beat him up.” He smiled. “She beat him up?”

“You should have seen him. It was hilarious.”

“Good. Call my daughter a whore…go on.”

“She never got in trouble for it because he didn’t tell anyone that he got hit by a girl.” He went quiet for a moment. “He really expected me to take his side over hers just because we were boys, but she’s my sister.”  He shook his head, unwilling to believe that anyone would side with a stranger over their own flesh and blood. “Anyway, that’s when I told him that he was too stupid to learn anything anyway and we laughed at him. Then I ran to get the recess monitor and when she came over, I told her that Steve fell out of the tree he had been climbing. I’m sorry if I don’t understand what this has to do with our talk.” 

“Do you believe in god?” 

“Do you mean believe in him or believe that he’s real?” 

“Both, either.” 

“No to both questions.”   

“Would you call yourself an atheist then?”

He shrugged. “Sure, I’d go with that.” 

“Well, let’s start with this: the so-called god is real.”  

“You can’t know that. Nobody can.” 

“I know it.”  

“But you can’t...you can’t know that God is real, that’s...crazy.”   

“Then I’m crazy because he’s real.”  

Xander didn’t know what to do because for the first time in his short life, he was calling into question something his father had said. Now much more comfortable with what he could do, he reached out.

“Am I lying?”  

“You don’t think you are.”  

Damien smiled. “Interesting.” 

“Did Delia think you were telling the truth?”  

“This conversation is not about her, it’s about you so I want to keep your sister out of it as much as possible, but she was different. The nightmare that precipitated my conversation with her made her believe. Okay, pretend then that the so-called god is real and if he were real, would it change your opinion of what happened in the Garden of Eden?” 

“Would I still think that it was boring, and that Eve didn’t do a bad thing by listening to Satan and that God is a bad father?”  

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, but it would be worse because it really happened...that God really threw his own children out of their home because they pissed him off.”   

“Well, I’m sure you know that that’s not the first time that he’s done that.”    

He thought for a minute. “Oh, Lucifer. So, we’re saying that that happened too? God throwing Lucifer out of Heaven?” 

“Yes.”  

“What did Delia dream about that was so convincing for her?” 

“She dreamt about someone killing me.”   

“Was that someone God?” The question came out more sarcastically than he had intended, but he wasn’t sure where all this was going, and he was starting to get frustrated.

“What if it were? The dream wasn’t exactly like that, but the person who tried to kill me was in a position to do so because of their god.” Damien got up, went to the bookshelf, and came back with the same astronomy magazine that he had handed to his daughter three years ago. 

Xander took it and read it.  

“The near collision of the three stars was meant to herald the birth of their christ.” 

“So, someone tried to kill you because Jesus was almost born again?”  

“Seven someones, actually.”  

“Why?”   

Damien took a seat beside his son again. “I know that their god exists because Satan exists. I know that Satan exists because I am His son. I am the Antichrist, the Beast who was foretold in the Book of Revelation.”  

Xander was starting to think that his father had gone out of his mind.

“Who of us has ever been sick? A cold? The flu? How about you and your sister? Mumps? Measles? Chickenpox? We can feel what each other feels because you are my children; you possess no human DNA and neither does your sister. You are part of Satan. When you scratch or hurt yourself, you heal very fast and you’ve seen what Delia can do, but you may not remember because you were just shy of seven but think about Matthew Patterson’s birthday party. His brother pushed you. You bit your lip. Hard. If you were anyone else but you, you would have needed stitches to close the wound.

“Brian Hughes, that’s the man who took you, hit you hard enough to create a minute fracture in your cheek and your wrists were raw from pulling at your restraints, yet in the morning you were fine.

“You’ve always been very good at getting people to do what you want them to do. And what you have done is nothing compared to what you can do. You’re better at it than I am and that’s saying something.

“It was always obvious to Delia that she was different; for you...you’ve been able to better hide it from yourself. Today is not only about learning how different you are, it’s also about helping you accept it.”  

He looked at his hands: they had been free from marks or bruises when he had woken up in the morning; his neck, pain free. Then there was Delia. After Benjamin had pushed him, when she had taken back the helicopter, he had always known she had done something to him. His hand went to his mouth. He had bit his lip when Benjamin had pushed him, but in the morning he had been fine.

“What am I?”  

“That’s what we’re working on right now.”   

“And Delia’s the same as we are?”  

“She’s female, but apart from that, yes, she is the same as we are.”    

“And God is real?”   

“Yes.”  

“So, The Bible is real? I mean, what happened in The Bible is real?” 

“If you need to know history in order to help you come to terms with all of this, then okay, we can do that; but fair warning, I don’t have the answers to many questions. I don’t want this to become a discussion about the Flood, or Jonah getting swallowed by a whale or big fish, or evolution, but it will if that’s what you want or need.”  

He shook his head. “I want to know about me and our family...is God my family?”  

Damien smirked. “Their god is everyone’s family, and whether anyone wants to accept it, yes, Lucifer was their god’s son; his first son. Lucifer was made differently than the other angels; made to be the so-called god’s equal. But He not only knew that he could do a better job of running the so-called heaven, but He was tired of being treated as inferior, and He wasn’t the only one.

“However, the so-called god sincerely dislikes it when his children disobey him, and because he was jealous, he cast out my Father and he made another child, one who was more obedient and listened to his father.” 

“You mean Jesus.”

“Yes.” 

“Who’s your mother?” 

“Satan can’t do what the so-called god can do, create life by simply thinking about it, so he needed to engage in sexual activity to make a child. But he chose not to make a baby with a human...he possessed a male jackal and mated with a female and two months later, there I was.”

“Two months? As in months?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Well, that explains someone’s jackal obsession.”

“Do you want to see what you really are?”  

“Okay.” There was more than a little uncertainty in his voice as to what exactly his father would show him.

There was a closet in the study, though what was in it…Delia spent far more time in here than he did. He watched as his father took out a case of some kind, along with a smaller box and brought them both to the desk.

“I’d like you to open it, please.”

As he did that, Damien went to the filing cabinet in the room and took out a file and then returned, moving the chair so that he was sitting beside his son.

“It’s a microscope.” He looked up at his father.

The other box contained slides, slide covers, rubbing alcohol wipes, and packets of lancets.

“I would like you to take a sample of your blood.”

Xander did as he was asked. He opened a wipe and swabbed his finger. He tore open the paper, and took out the lancet, pricked his finger and squeezed as a pearl of red bubbled to the surface. He wiped it away, then squeezed his finger again, bringing up less blood to the surface. He turned his finger so that it was over the glass slide and a drop of blood landed on it. He took the slide and covered it.

He put it on the stage and looked into the eyepiece but stopped as he felt his father’s hand on his arm.

“I want you to compare what you see in the microscope to the pictures. And I want you to remember that you are not alone right now. Whatever feelings you have, we will work through them together.”

He made whatever adjustments necessary to see what he was supposed to see, which turned out to be cells. The image was as clear as it was going to get, and so he turned his attention to the picture that his father had set on top of the folder. When he found the picture that matched the blood sample, his eyes moved down to the bottom of the page. Beneath the diagram of the cell was written Canis Mesomelas /Black-backed Jackal. The second picture was that of a human blood cell and he looked again, but what he saw in the microscope matched the picture on the right, the one of the jackal.

He had taken the blood from his finger using the lancet that he himself and unwrapped from its paper wrapper. He picked up the lancet and looked at it; there was nothing suspicious about it. He looked at his finger...it looked like a finger. He looked back into the eyepiece, but the cells still looked the same.

He closed his eyes as the truth about what he was seeing overtook him, a tidal wave washing away all that stood before it. He had accepted that he was different, but not this different. He was silent for a long time.

“I’m not a person.” He turned and looked at his father. “It wasn’t that they weren’t people, it’s that they are people but I’m not; that’s why they were different.

“That’s right. While we are created in their image, and we share a psychology with them, strictly speaking, we aren’t human.”   

“Delia?”  

“She’s not a person either.”  

“What am I?” His voice was a whisper full of uncertainty and fear.

“You are my son, whom I love. You are the great-grand son of their god, the grandson of Satan and the son of the Antichrist, me. When the time comes, you will take my place as my successor.”

“What about my mother?”

He could feel the fear in his son’s voice. “Kate Reynolds. As human as they come.” He pulled out another picture out of the file folder and handed it to him.

It had been a long time since he had seen a picture of her. So long, that he had forgotten what she looked like, and who she was. She had been a reporter at the BBC, which is how she had met Damien.

“Did you love her?”

Chapter Text

“I think if Delia had asked me that three years ago, I would have said no. Now…I think it’s more complicated than that. I think I wanted to want to love her, if that makes sense, but it never would have worked out once she knew who I was.

“You read about that celestial event. What the article didn’t mention is that the event was a ruse created by their god to have me and others believe that the second coming was happening. If that wasn’t enough, they were inside my head, draining me of energy and further trying to fool me into believing that the nazarene had been born.” Damien got up, went to the bookshelf, got The Book of Hebron, and handed it to his son, who opened it to where a bookmark sat.

He read the passage that had been underlined and then looked up. “This was a lie?” 

“Given by their god to a so-called prophet who wrote that book. Seven priests also knew of the prophecy and came to England to kill me and protect the nazarene.”  

“But he wasn’t born.”  

“There was a male child born, but it wasn’t the nazarene. Two of the priests went to verify that he had been born, but their god lied to them, too.” 

“Why?” 

“To put me in a position to be killed. With them inside my head...I was so filled with hate, it blinded me to my Father trying to tell me that it was all bullshit. The nightmares that Delia had were visions sent from Satan showing her the confrontation between me and the last priest; it very nearly cost me my life. My father was able to finally reach me and show me that it was all a lie.”  

“They did that to you? God did that?”   

“Good is a necessary concept for any civilization; without it…well, you don’t have civilization. People need good and I like it. I can’t run a multi-billion-dollar business in a chaotic world. I enjoy art, music, wine, good food, and most importantly, my children; you don’t get those things in a world run amok. But for us and them? It’s not about good and evil, it’s about sides. It’s about who gets to be in charge and have the power to tell the story that they want. So far, it’s been them.”

“What does this have to do with my mother?”

Damien was silent for a few moments. “She had a son. A young, naïve boy whom I knew I could manipulate.”  

“I have a brother...a half-brother?”

“Had. I killed him.” 

“Why?”  

“To save my life. I’m not sure if Kate ever believed that something…supernatural was going on, but she knew that her son was involved in things to help me and that she didn’t like, so she said that she’d take me to the church where the nazarene was if I gave her back her son. I agreed, but it was a trap. The priest attacked me, but I put Peter in between me and the priest; he stabbed the boy instead of me.”

“Involved in what kinds of things?”  

“For starters, to follow one of the priests. He also knew my plan to have my disciples kill all the male babies born on March 24^th between midnight and six a.m.”  

Xander walked towards the window and looked out. “So, I was right...we are bad.”  

“Their god has murdered millions of people. The Flood…there’s a word for that and that word is genocide, and he did it because the human race was too…human for his liking. He forced Adam and Eve out of Eden because they broke a rule that he never explained. In fact, they were set up to fail. He sent out two individuals into a world that they did not know how to live in.

“On the night I was born, there were dozens of babies murdered in Rome...those were his followers trying to eliminate me. Granted, some of the more radical ones, but still. I’ve killed to protect my life. I’ve killed to get what I want, and I’ve killed because, to be honest, I like it.”

“Did that man take me because of you?” 

“Yes, but not for religious reasons. He took you because he was a shitty businessman and I got something he wanted...all of it above board…ever so slightly below board.”  

“Will I have to kill?”  

“Yes.”  

“What happens if I say no to all of this and run away, or try to kill you?”

Damien went to him, reached out, and turned him around so that they were facing each other.

“I could never and would never lay a hand on you; you are my son and I love you more than I could ever tell you with words. Apart from being your sister, Delia is your protector, meant to lay down her life for you, if necessary, though we’ll get to that later.

“However, if you betray us, the task of killing you would fall to her because you’d forfeit your right to her protection. She’d never, ever, not in a million years ever do that because as much as I love you, Delia loves you more. And if I ever did try to harm you, she’d do everything in her power to kill me. But what Satan would do? Truthfully, I can’t say. Our lives aren’t our own and I don’t expect you to understand or accept that right now.” 

“May I see your blood?”

“Of course.” 

They both returned to the desk, and he prepared another slide, this time using a sample from his father. He looked into the eyepiece and found a cell; it looked the same as his had, the one of the jackal.

He turned to his father and felt a flush in his cheeks. “Like father, like son.” 

“Proudly like son, like father.”

“And you love me and Delia the same?”  

“Yes, and I respect you both, and in actions I show it differently because you are each different, but I don’t love her less because she’s female, or because she’s not going to be the Antichrist. But in certain terms...you are the more important child, and she knows and accepts that, and while I will allow a certain amount of sibling bickering and good-natured ribbing over the issue, if I ever find that you’re mistreating or abusing her, you will have me to deal with.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Come on.” He led his son into the first-floor bathroom, put down the lid of the toilet, sat and bent his head. “At the back to left. You’ll know it when you find it.”  

He searched, moving his father’s hair around until he found something. He pushed the hair aside and realized he was looking at three numbers, all sixes, curled into each other. “Are those like the three sixes from The Bible?” There was more than a little awe in his voice.

He straightened up. “That’s me, the Beast foretold in the Book of Revelation and Daniel, but you can call me D-man. I’ll tell you pretty much the same thing as I told your sister: I’m your father and that’s how I want you to treat me. As far as you and she are concerned, that’s the most important job I have.”

“What about me?”

Damien got up and turned Xander around so that his back was facing the mirror and then reached into the drawer and pulled out the same mirror that he had used with Delia three years ago. Unlike with Delia, however, he was hit with a sense of déjà vu. He adjusted the mirror and found his son’s three sixes.

The second he realized what he was seeing, his hand flew to his head, and he took the mirror from his father so that he could better see the mark. He touched the numbers and looked at his hand, wondering if they would come off; they didn’t. He stayed that way for a long time, staring at the three sixes.

“What is it?” 

“Nothing.” 

He put his hand under his son’s chin and turned his head. “I want to hear whatever it is you have to say, good, bad, or otherwise; and if you don’t have words, think or feel things to me.” 

“I don’t know...what was it like for you? How did you feel when you found out?”

He was about to tell Xander that today was about him but changed his mind. “I was terrified. Nobody took me to the bathroom and stood with me while I found those three sixes; I was alone. And when I saw them and realized exactly whose son I was, I ran. I ran away from myself because as far as I was concerned, I was evil incarnate. I had found out who I was, and I had not only lost my aunt, uncle, and cousin, I had lost the human race.

“But then...I felt my Father and I knew I was part of something bigger; that I was more than I ever thought possible. But that being said, I was still lonely. Mark...he had overheard a conversation and knew who and what I was…believed what had been said because he had seen things that I had done. I confronted him…and killed him because…to be truthful, he rejected me. I don’t know what would have happened had I given him time to come around, but…I didn’t.”

“I don’t know if I feel evil, but I don’t feel like me.” He paused. “I don’t know who I am.”  

Damien gave him a reassuring smile. “And that’s okay, you’ll work that out, with both my and Delia’s help. Today is not an ending, it’s a beginning. I want to take you upstairs, to the room, but not until I’m satisfied that you have a handle on things.”

“Then we’re gonna be here for a while.”  

“Poor choice of words on my part. I want to hear your doubts and fears. I don’t want blind acceptance, not from my children.” 

“What’s in the room?”  

“God, Alexander. God is in the room. It’s sacred ground, a holy place where Satan makes Himself known to us, and only us. To anyone else, that room is just a room, a few people, like Thomas, Anna, and Paul, may feel...something, but they will never feel what we feel.”  

He moved out of the bathroom and went to the foyer and looked up the stairs. “I want to go. Please?” He turned to his father.

“We will, but you’re questioning things and that’s good. Being in that room will take away a lot of questions. It will make you feel like you have less choice than you have now.” He paused. “I know you want to be a lawyer but having found cooking, I also I know that you wouldn’t mind it so much if you had a change of careers.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You’re very happy when you cook. When I was your age, I didn’t care about anything, including Thorn Industries. You’re twelve, and you’ve found something that would make you happy for the rest of your life. I know that while Delia wants to run Thorn, she’d also be happy being a vet.”

“Were you angry?”  

“I was too worried and scared to be angry. I just accepted and after a while, it didn’t matter. I like what I have and who I am. I have more money than anyone else on the planet. I’m Satan’s son, here to guide people to a better life and most importantly, I have two children whom I love.”

“I have you and Delia.”   

“Yes, you do. Always remember that.” He put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I thought you were going to tell me that we were involved in organized crime.”  

Damien started laughing. “I can understand how you’d think that but, no.”  

“How do I become Antichrist?” 

“That happens when I die.”  

He stepped back and shook his head. “I don’t want you to die. I’d rather not be anything.” 

“It’s not a trade-off, Xandman. Part of me comes from Satan and that part is immortal, but this.”  He pinched his arm. “Is flesh and won’t last forever and that goes whether there’s someone here to take my place or not. And it’s not like I’m going to die tomorrow. I’ll be here for a long time.”  

“Will I still be me?

“Do you mean will you still be the same annoying, pain in my ass, wise-cracking, sarcastic individual that you’ve always been?”   

“You forgot dazzlingly brilliant and strikingly handsome.”

“You’ll be all that and more because you’ll be you and more. You’ll do what you’ll do the way that you do it, which might be different from how I do things, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still me, I’m older now, but in many ways, I’m still the same as when I was when I was twelve...serious, quiet. While I have been known to engage in some...interesting activities, I prefer to be home with a good book. Getting older has changed me, having children has changed me the most, and you’d change no matter what. So?”  

“All I can say for right now is that it doesn’t feel as strange.”  

“If you would like, we can go upstairs now.”   

“Yes, please.”

He watched as his father went to the study and came back with the file folder. Damien put his arm around his shoulder, and they walked up the stairs, and now that he knew who was in the room, he was aware of the Prescence and it called to him, pulling up upwards with every step he took.  Feelings and emotions that he did not have words for filled him, and part of him wanted to turn around and run back down the stairs because he knew that once he entered the room, there really was no turning away from any of this.

But the Presence sang to him, and he had never wanted to a part of anything more than he wanted to be a part of whatever was happening in that room. He stopped at the door and this time, he took his father’s advice and felt and thought things to him.

“Was Delia the same after she found out?”

“Yes.”  

“Then I don’t think you’ll be any different. I would never hurt you and we aren’t done today; we are beginning. You can still question and ask. You’re twelve. I’m not expecting you to be...I’m not expecting you to be your sister and be so enthusiastic about things. I’d like to see you take more initiative in learning things about the business and about religious matters, but you don’t have to do it all at once. I’m looking forward to spending time with you to help you sort out how you think and feel about things, and to help you with all this new knowledge. Your sister will be beside herself with joy that you two will be back to being close and that she no longer has to hide things from you. Thankfully, the both of you have no school, so I won’t have to be bugged twenty times an hour to let the two of you stay home. You’re like I was.” 

“How do you mean?”    

He smiled. “It’s more intense for us than it was for your sister. I think it’s because it’s more important that we know who and what we are. When I felt it for the first time...I thought I was going to die. I didn’t understand what I had been missing until I felt God for the first time.” 

But he could wait no longer, and his father knew it as Damien took the key, unlocked the door and stepped inside…

Chapter Text

The room looked empty, but Xander could feel the Presence, stronger than it had been as he had made his way up the stairs. It felt like Damien, not surprising considering it was his Father. He closed his eyes and smiled. This is what had been calling to him all the times that he and Delia had wanted in here…What had been with him on the boat and helped him realize what he could do…Who had told him no when he wanted to be untied. 

He removed his socks and stepped into the room.

The Presence flowed and moved around him, like currents in a river. It vibrated off the walls and came up through the floors. It was the air that he was breathing. It asked to be accepted, and Xander nodded, and the Presence entered him…

For the first time in his life, Xander felt whole…one…yet a part of something so much bigger than himself that he thought that he would get lost and never come back. And yet, It tied him to the world in which he lived. He had not known that he had been broken…shattered…but now he understood that he had been a stranger to himself his whole life…

He was aware that he had fallen to his knees and was crying as great sobs wracked his body; but most importantly, he was in his father’s arms as he fell apart. He did not know how long it was until he was able to get a hold of himself.

“I’m sorry.” He wiped his eyes using his arm.

“Sorry for what?”

He sat back on his knees. “Not believing you...not believing...I can feel Him...Satan...how can this place have been here the whole time and I didn’t know it?”  

“I told you, when I was your age, I had no clue who and what I was until I felt what you just felt.”   

“Tell me.”

“Xander, today is about you.”

 “Please tell me. I want to know everything about who you really are...about who I am…about all of us. Unless Delia will be worried.”   

“No, she won’t be worried.” Damien paused. “Alright, then if we’re going to do this, then we’re going to do this from the beginning, or as close to the beginning as is relative to what you’ve found out today.”   

They sat against the wall farthest away from the door and made themselves comfortable and Damien began…

He started with how he had not been the first Antichrist, but he was, so far, the most successful. And now that he had a son, Xander would have a son, who would have a son, who would have a son and so on until dominion over the human race was achieved, or someone failed, in which case Satan would simply start again.

Damien told how they were nearly indestructible, that no gun, car crash, poison, disease could kill the Antichrist, but what could kill Xander, before he became the Antichrist, and Delia, was not clear. He explained about the Daggers of Megiddo and the ritual necessary to kill the Antichrist and told him of how he had destroyed them.

He told his son about his own life; about how the disciples had delivered him and then had killed Robert and Katherine’s real child and how they had eventually been killed and how he had come to live in the very house in which they were now living. How he had been a shy, quiet child who had had to speak through his cousin when he had wanted anything. He told his son about going to military school and how it had been at Davidson Academy where he had found out who he was, and how it had scared him…until he had felt Satan and knew exactly who and what he was.

He told Xander how he had killed Mark and his aunt and uncle and that it had been he to kill Kate after she had given birth to him and Delia, and of the plan had he not survived, how Delia would have carried his embryo inside of her. He told him about the disciples, including Anna, Paul, who was an Apostate, born from birth to serve Satan, Charles, and Thomas and how he was already guiding Aaron in the same religious direction.

“Delia had visions of your mother killing me. When I picked up Peter and put him in between myself and the dagger, I left it behind when I went searching for the nazarene. Kate, driven by grief, came after me. In your sister’s visions, my Father was never able to reach me to tell me that it was all a lie. I was consumed with hate. I didn’t see her coming until I was able to realize it was all crap. I’d be dead otherwise.”

“What is all of this about Delia…”

He shook his head. “If I had died, she would have still been born first and thusly charged with telling you who and what you are and protecting you. However, Delia is…”

“Delia.”

He smiled. “Exactly. I think that the…directive never really went away, even though I didn’t die. It might have been muted a bit, but it’s a very strong drive inside of her to keep you safe.” He made sure he was looking his son in the eyes. “She will never, I repeat, never, ever have to give her life for yours. The whole kidnapping thing that happened, happened to wake you up to who you are. You were never in any real danger. I am very powerful and the likelihood that any of us are in any real danger from any human being is next to zero.

Damien reached over and picked up the file folder; he took out a glossy eight by ten photo and handed it to his son.

He looked at the picture. “These are the knives?” 

“Yep, though, like I said, what can kill you before you become the Antichrist and what can kill your sister is still fuzzy...though you both know how to take care of yourselves, and we can practice so you can become better at it.”   

“Mount Etna, huh?”

He smirked. “Right into Mount Doom.”

“I’m still worried about some things, and more than a little scared, but we’re not bad, or we’re as bad as they are. Is there anything I have to do...some kind of ritual or something?” 

“Satanism is bullshit, but much like the idea of hell, we’ll use it if we have to get people to help us.”

“So, the point of everything isn’t to destroy people?”

“How does that benefit Satan? All those souls would go straight to them. If I wanted to destroy the human race, I could have done it already. Thorn used to make nuclear warheads. Armageddon isn’t a foregone conclusion. It’s what might happen. If the so-called god concedes defeat, why would a war be necessary? And before I forget, Delia has the mark, too.”

“Really!?”  

“It marks her as Satan’s and that she is the same as we are…and that she has her own set of gifts to work with.”

“I’m glad.” Though he now fell silent. “I’d like to go to the bathroom...alone.”

“I haven’t had to take you to the bathroom for quite some time, now.”     

“Funny. You know what I mean. I’ll be quick.” He jumped up.

He got up and grabbed his son’s arm. “You’ll be as long as it takes. However, if you’re not out in an hour or so, I’m going to come knocking.” He tapped the side of his head.

“Okay. Will you wait here for me?” 

Damien smiled at him. “Of course.”

He went back down to the first-floor bathroom and closed and locked the door. He looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t sure if he looked different, but he felt different. He was bigger, larger, more. He was aware that there wasn’t just him inside of himself.

He took the hand mirror out of the drawer and found the three sixes hidden under his dark brown hair. Those had been there his whole life and he hadn’t known. What else was there about himself that was unknown?

He tried to feel as he had earlier, that he was bad or evil, but he couldn’t and that scared him. When he had felt Satan, that had scared him because he wasn’t sure who he was...where Alexander Thorn ended and…everything else began. And his father had been right, feeling God had taken away the strong desire to question and that scared him.

Delia. He didn’t reach out to her because he knew if did, she’d be up the stairs before he could even finish the thought and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her just yet. He was worried about that too, about his relationship with her. What if he felt differently about her? What if she treated him differently? If he had to part ways, philosophically and religiously speaking, with his father, then so be it, but he couldn’t imagine being separated from her. Not sharing his thoughts and feelings with his sister, not being with each other the way had been all their lives.

He looked at himself again. He would keep an open mind about everything for several reasons. One, they weren’t what he thought. They were far more deceptive and…evil than he could have possibly guessed. Second was Delia, and third, he considered what he saw in the mirror. There was a power hidden behind those blue eyes, a strength that had been there all along that only now was known to him and he liked it. He liked what he had done, even the killing didn’t seem so bad as when he had first done it.

Just remember, open mind. He turned off the lights and headed back upstairs.

“Hungry?”

“Am I never not hungry? I think I’d like Chan’s for dinner, to eat here.” He rejoined his father.

“Then we can do that.” 

“I still don’t have my head wrapped around all of this.” 

“No one expects you to understand all of this right away. This will take work, from all of us; remember, a beginning not an ending. And if your sister is a little too pushy about things, you tell me, and I’ll talk to her.”

“She was nine when she had that vision. That’s so young to have her childhood taken away.” 

“Well, on the one hand I agree, but it’s better that it happened when it did. She was always so full of questions and worried that something was wrong with her.”

“Do you want me to go to their church?”

“Yes, at least once and preferably more than once. It will be difficult when you first walk in, you’ll feel them trying to get inside your head and make you think and feel horrible things about yourself, but you need to overcome that.” 

“I used to think that you loved Delia more than you loved me.”

Damien gave his son a rueful smile. “I get that. She and I have lots in common, and in most things, more than us. But you’re my son. I see so much of myself in you...how you speak, your mannerisms, how you carry yourself, your confidence and easy way with people. We share the same lot in life, and I will spend the rest of my days trying to impart some wisdom in that regard. Unfortunately, the truly important things about being Antichrist you will know after I die...I wish it didn’t have to be like that.

“And don’t discount the fact that we’re both male. I’ll teach you how to shave, give you advice about women. I’ve already shared things with you that I will never tell her. While Delia and I are more alike than not, she has gone through, and will go through, important milestones that I will never understand or share. Anna took her to get her first bra. It never ever occurred to me that that’s important for many girls. It’s time like those I wish she could have had a mother.”

He snorted. “Somehow, I don’t see her taking orders in her own home from a person. I see some top-notch matricide happening if some mere mortal tried to boss Delia around.” 

“I didn’t mean Kate; I mean someone who’s the same as we are. I’d like us to have a conversation. If it makes you uncomfortable, we can stop it whenever you want.”

“Okay.”

“Delia and I knew that you might not be so…unprepared for today’s discussion about who and what you are…do you understand how gifted you are when it comes to getting people to do what you want?”

“No.”

“Like I said, you are better at it that I am. I started especially paying attention after the birthday party, when she had used her abilities for the first time…looking out for when and if you’d start really cluing into what you can do. You like it. I know you said that already, but you need to understand how much you like it. The reason I want to talk about this is…so that if you start getting certain urges and feelings, it won’t come as a shock to you.”

“Go on.”

“About three years ago, there was a certain time when I was being…”

“…an absolute asshole to everyone in the house and you threatened to can Cecile?”

“That would be it. Your solution to the problem was that I needed to get laid.”

“I’m getting the feeling that there was more to it than that.”

“I already mentioned that sometimes I kill because I like it. I bring people here to torture and kill, and when those people are women, you can pretty much throw in rape. I went too long in ignoring what I need to function, and I got…cranky.

“We are…tied to this planet and its people, much more so than they are. That happened when Lucifer was thrown out of the so-called heaven. He became a being of needs and wants, like humans. So, I have needs and wants and I am in a position to get them met fairly easily. I don’t know if you…”

“So far, no needs, no wants.”

“And that’s fine, but I would like you to tell me what goes through your head when you do what you do to get what it is that you do want.”

He needed no time to think about it, but for the first time he could talk about it out loud. “It’s a game…knowing what I want…seeing how little or how much force I can use to get someone to bend to my wishes. I’m way past getting someone to give me bacon. That doesn’t cut it anymore. I actually like it when it’s difficult, to a point, that is. It’s like working out a problem. I can gauge them…the kind of person they are…what I need to do to break them. The more I like someone, the less likely I am to push very hard.

He smiled. “A few weeks ago, Delia and I went over to Greg Bennet’s house with you. You brought us because he has a son. Well, this kid had a robot. It looked old, and I wanted to hold it, but he wouldn’t hand it over. So, I began working on him. Making him feel…good…happy, which is how I usually get people to give me what I want. He still would not budge. I started replacing happy with anxious, then anxiety with fear. No go.

“We went downstairs and had lunch, but all I could think about was why this fucking kid wouldn’t give me what I wanted. And by then, I didn’t even really care anymore about the robot, I just wanted him to give it to me. I kept working on him during lunch, and by the time we got back upstairs, and I asked, he handed it over to me.

“I was so…pissed off at this point I got Delia to distract him, and I just broke it. I told him it was an accident. He cried.”

“That explains why had to make restitution for its loss, which was a lot of money, so let’s not do it again, or it’s going to be coming out of your allowance until you graduate Yale.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, but that’s one of the reasons I want to help you, to help you control yourself. Anyway, Delia knew what I had done that day, to the woman who came over here, and other women after Margaret. She by that point had come to me expressing a desire to hurt people. She hasn’t done it because she wanted to wait for you. But she’s seen pictures and I tell her, in detail, minus the sex, what I do, and we’ve discussed you.”

“She didn’t have to wait for me.”

“She knows, but she did. Xander, going into someone’s mind like that, against their will, especially if you are repeatedly pushing…that’s a form of rape. Like I said, if it makes you uncomfortable and you want to stop…”

“No. I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

“That’s okay.”

He closed his eyes. “When I do it, it’s like being in this room. Also…I get off on it. I always have. It feels good to say that. It also explains why Delia never said anything. She understood.”

“That’s another reason why I want to work with you. I can help you get more from it than you do. To expend less energy and get more from the experience. You never told me if you hurt one of them with your mind, like Delia did at the…”

“Ravens! I left it out when I told you what happened on the boat because I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me. I’ve tried again, but nada.”

“Your life was in danger and basically your survival instincts kicked in…like with your sister at the birthday party. Her…charge was hurt, and she would have killed Benjamin if I hadn’t stepped in, and believe me when I tell you, a very big part of me wanted to see her off him because of what he did. That kind of…in-depth visualizing takes up more energy.

“Her preference, like mine, is to get her hands dirty. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the mental games as well. Where she excels in the non-physical aspect is when it comes to protecting you.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to play Operation in real life yet, but I can keep doing the other things?”

“Your true calling is your mind. Let’s work on that first.”

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Can we just sit up here for a while and not say anything?”   

“We can do whatever you want.” Damien could feel the difference in him, but he could also feel fear and anxiety. So far, things were going very well and for now, he took a cue from his son and closed his eyes, sat back and relaxed…

...666...

“It’s been quite the Dear Diary day today.” Xander pulled his knees up to his chest.

Damien smirked. “I’ll say. We just passed a significant amount of time together without you saying a single word.”

“Wow, that was actually funny.”

“I have my moments.”

“I think I’d like to call it quits for right now, but I don’t understand something.”  

“What?” 

“What am I supposed to do?” He looked at his father.

“Now I don’t understand.” 

“What am I allowed to do?”  

“What do you want to do?”  

“Nothing...something, eat Chinese food, watch some movies, build a blanket fort with Delia, play with the dogs, read,” his voice had gotten quiet, as if he had spoken blasphemy in the room.

“If you had to describe me to someone who had never met me, what would you tell them?”

“You love Chinese food from Chan’s.”  

“Go on.” 

“Your favourite ice-cream is pistachio; you hate broccoli, and for some unknowable reason, you like raisins. When Cecile makes cookies, you get her to make a batch oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip cookies especially for you. You like horseback riding; monster movies and your favorite color is navy blue.” 

“And what does that have to do with being the Antichrist?”  

“Nothing...so I can do whatever I want to do.”

“Very good, grasshopper, the student has surpassed the teacher.”

“Yeah, not even close.” But he was anxious and nervous about what he wanted to do next.

“Get her up here.”  

Chapter Text

He thought to his sister, and the next thing he could hear was the slamming of a door. He proceeded down the stairs, and she came up; they met halfway.

“Hey.” 

“Hey, yourself.” It was like he was seeing her for the first time. How could she have been like this, and he had never seen it?

“Xander, nothing that went before matters. What you knew or didn’t know, it doesn’t matter because now you know and it’s all good.” She smiled at him, took his hand and the two of them went back into the room. “Isn’t the Chapel beautiful?”

“Is that what you call it?”

“It’s what Damien calls it, so I do, too.”

“Then I think it’s the ‘Chapel’ all ‘round. And I can come up here anytime I want?” He looked at his father.

“I’ll get you a key. With three of us, it might take some time management, but I’ll take that any day over hiding things from the both of you.”  

Father and daughter regarded each other, and she spun until she dizzily collided into him.

“He’s different; you’re different. It’s all different.” She giggled.

“Yes, to all of the above...and you’re very happy right now.” Damien took her right hand and twirled her a few times.

“So are you.” She looked at him.

“I feel it. This has been a huge weight on me ever since you started noticing you weren’t like other people and now, I could sleep for a week.” He could sense disappointment from both his children. “Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen. Xander, do you need me to stay home again?”  

“No, D-man, I’m fine.” 

“I would like some time up here.” Damien looked at his watch, it was three fifty-eight. “Then we’ll gorge ourselves on Chinese food and popcorn and watch movies. How does that sound?” 

She gasped. “Can we watch The Exorcist and Rosemary’s Baby!”  

“Not tonight, Deedle. Let’s give everything a rest for now.”   

“But soon?”  

“Yes, soon. I’ll be down eventually, but there is something I want to say.” 

“About what?” She wanted to get her brother alone but was sensing some anxiety from her father.

Damien paused, and then cleared his throat. “About the other night, when I came home. I don’t think I would have made it up here without the pair of you, so thank-you.”

Xander took a step towards his father. “You’re welcome. I understand now why you needed to come up here. We love you and we’re happy and…honored to be able to help you. So, it’s all cool now, daddy-o.”

“I’ll see you two later.”

“Let’s go. We can go to my room.”

He let her pull him out of the Chapel and he shut the door behind them.

Downstairs, she handed him her key. It was no longer shiny after being handled for three years. “You can keep this until Damien gets you your own, but I want this one back.”   

He put the key in the front pocket of his jeans and sat on Delia’s bed. She sat down next to him and at first, neither spoke, but he turned to her. “I’m scared. I’m scared that I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m afraid of changing. I’m afraid of doing something wrong. I’m terrified that things will change between us. I’m afraid that you’ll die, or that if I don’t do the right thing, I’ll be killed. But on the other hand, they’re not who I thought they were. They do things that if we did them, people would call us evil and yet...he lied to father, he lied to his own followers. Damien killed seven priests and had babies killed and their god stood by and let it happen all for the maintaining the pretense of having his son born. If it’s all sides.” He shrugged. “Then it’s all sides and I’m not going to get hung up on the morality of it, though I’m sure that’s easier said than done.” 

She took his hand. “I love you and I want that to be enough, but I won’t be hurt if it isn’t. You have an open mind and that’s good and no, they’re not who people think they are. They lie, cheat, hurt and kill. You’re learning and you’re not the Antichrist right now, so father doesn’t expect you to know everything. The best part is now we can all do this together, no one will be left out anymore. And no one will ever touch you; they’d have to get through me first.” 

His stomach churned. “Deedle, please don’t. That’s not a selling point to any of this. Damien knows that I enjoy cooking and while I know that I will be a lawyer…it’s a pretty close call…and your vet thing.”

She shrugged. “It’s not surprising, I guess. He’s pretty observant when it comes to us.” 

“Huh.”

“Huh, what huh?”

“That’s all you have to say to that?” He got up and by the time he was standing, he was furious. “We’ve had our lives hijacked and all you can do is shrug and blindly accept what’s in store for you?! It’s so easy for you to give up something you want? See, I can’t talk to you. You don’t understand. Everything about all of this has always come so easy for you. I’m not in charge of my own life and that fucking pisses me off!” 

“Is that a fact?”

A huge wave of anger came at him and her tone was cold.

“Delia…”

“No, go on…please tell me how easy it’s all been for me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Shall I show you how easy it’s been for me?”

It was a genuine question, and he nodded in agreement…

Emotions, like with climbing the stairs up to the Chapel, that he had no words for, or knew how to describe, came at him…along with healthy doses of fear, pain, sorrow, loneliness, isolation, anger, hate, anxiety, despair. They suddenly stopped; a spigot being shut off. He reached down and pulled her up by her shoulders.

“Nope. Not anymore. If we are in this together, then I want all of it. If we are done hiding things from each other, then we’re done hiding things from each other, so whatever you got, I want all of it.”

She did as he had asked and gave to him all the negativity that she had hidden for three years. Her fear that Damien would reject her, worrying that she would never be good enough for him, that he would realize that Alexander could be both Antichrist and run Thorn and she would be superfluous and sidelined from any meaningful activity in their father’s life. This, and more, came at him until she had borne all, and she leaned against him, and he put his arms around her and held her.

He gently pushed her away and spat into his hand. “Never again do we hide things like this. We have each other now and we tell each other everything.”  

She spat into her hand, and they shook. “We tell each other everything. Feeling better?” 

“A little. I think I just want to take a break from all of this tonight, but one more thing.”

“And what would that be?” 

He was silent and looked her in the eyes. “Don’t go dying on me. Ever. I couldn’t handle going through any of this on my own.”

“I won’t because there’s no one else who could handle how bloody annoying you are.” 

“Wow, for a second there, I thought you were going to start treating me with the deference I deserve.” He made sure she understood that he had made the comment in jest.

She snorted. “As if. The only thing you’ll ever be to me is my annoying little brother.” 

“Good, because the only thing you’ll ever be to me is my nagging, older sister. Should we start deciding what we want for dinner now?” He had turned and stretched when something glossy in her trash can caught his attention. He went over and pulled one of the pieces of paper out of the can and then turned to her. “Why are all your brochures and letters from Harvard in the garbage?”

“Because I can’t go to Harvard.” 

“What do you mean you can’t go to Harvard? You’ve wanted to go there since you were eight. The recruitment officer send you christmas cards every year.”   

“That’s because I’m Damien Thorn’s kid and they would consider it quite the feat to land one of his, especially since he went to Yale.”  

“That doesn’t answer my question.”   

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t watch you and go to school in a different state, so I’ll go to Yale with you.”

“But Yale’s business school isn’t Harvard’s...” He looked at the brochure. “No es bueno. I’m going to speak with Damien.” He turned to leave, but his sister blocked the door. “Delia, let me by.”  

“You cannot go up there. Father asked for privacy and when one of us asks for privacy in that room we give it, no questions asked. Being in that room isn’t like going to any other room in this house. It’s about communing with God and being one with Him. If we go up there, the house had better be on fire, or Armageddon had better be starting.” 

“Fine, then I’ll say something to him when he comes down.” He jammed the paper in his pocket.

“Fine, but we don’t go up there.” 

“Do you have money to pay for the food if it gets here before he comes down?”  

She went to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out her wallet and then followed Xander to his room and they pooled their money, which was over three hundred dollars, more than enough to pay for the food. Both of them went downstairs and called Chan’s for delivery between six and seven. They then went into the family room and picked out three movies, one of which was Godzilla, which meant getting the movie projector from downstairs and setting up the screen.

It was six-thirty when Damien finally appeared downstairs and found his children in the kitchen, having brought all the dogs inside from letting them out to heed nature’s call. He was drinking a glass of wine and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, until Xander shoved a piece of paper in his face.

“This was in your daughter’s trash. She says she’s not going to Harvard now because of me. If there is zero chance that anything will happen, why does she have to give up going to the school that she’s wanted to go to since she was eight?”  

Damien looked at her. “Was this the nothing important from the other night?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me about this?”

“Because I only now just realized it and it’s not like we’ve had much time recently to discuss much else besides Alexander.” 

“Okay, well, it’s not like you’re going to school tomorrow; we still have a few years to figure out...” but Damien stopped talking because a huge smile sat on his son’s face.

“We’ll both go to Harvard.”  

“Xander...” 

“You’re not the only one who can give things up, you know. Saint Delia, first in line to sacrifice something for the family. You’re not disappointed, are you?” He had directed the question to his father while she ran off to answer the doorbell and get the food.

“Of course not, that was...I’m proud of you. I know you wanted to go to Yale, but things will be easier with the both of you at one school...assuming of course that you both get in.”  

“Ha, ha, very funny. You’re the king of the snappy one-liners today.”

She came back with food and Damien helped her put the bags on the counter. “Did you order the whole restaurant?” “Not exactly.” She went over to her brother and punched him in the arm. “That’s for calling me a saint.”  Then she threw her arms around him. “That’s for giving up Yale. And now we can be in some classes together in our freshman year!” 

“Ooh, think of the competition. One of us will be graduating with the highest GPA.” 

“By one of us, you mean me, don’t you?” She locked eyes with her brother, who smirked back at her.

“We’ll see.”

“Well, I’d better be looking at the individuals with the first and second highest GPAs, or you’re both out of the will.”   

“Oh no, Delia, then we won’t get father’s many selections of ties and tie clips.”  

“Oh, well, our loss.”

“Enough banter, let’s eat; I’m starving.”   

They loaded up their plates with food, grabbed drinks and brought everything into the family room. There, Damien had discovered that the children had not only set up the card table, the projector as well, which generally meant on thing…

“So, tell me what we’re watching.” Damien took a drink of wine, though he knew very well what movie his children had chosen to start off their night.Alexander cleared his throat. “For your cinematic pleasure this evening, we will be presenting Godzilla or Gojira. Made in Japan in 1954 and directed and written by Ishirō Honda, or Honda Ishirō if we are being Japanese about it and it is not the crappy 1956 Hollywood effort dubbed in English with Raymond Burr thrown in for good measure.” 

Delia and Damien applauded, and everyone settled down with their food and watched the movie, though once Godzilla was over, they took away the projector and watched the other movies on the VCR. The twins moved to the couch and spent the rest of the night curled up next to their father.

Damien had also noticed a theme with the movies: they had chosen ones that he liked and so Godzilla was followed by The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and the evening had concluded with The Odd Couple.

It was after midnight when everything was done. The leftover Chinese food was put in the fridge and the leftover popcorn went into the garbage.

“Alright, bedtime.”

Damien took care of things downstairs while the younger Thorns, and the dogs, headed upstairs to take care of brushing their teeth, and getting ready for bed. He headed upstairs too, changed, brushed his teeth, and got into bed and that’s where he was when he heard the knock on the door.

“Come in.” 

Both of them came into their father’s room, their sleeping bags, and pillows under their arms.

“Can we sleep in here tonight?”  

He put down his book. “Is everything okay?”  

“Yeah, but we don’t want the evening to end so...”

“My floor is your floor.”  

The two dogs stayed out in the hall, and they came in, rolled out their sleeping bags, dropped their pillows on top and then sat on their father’s bed.

“Was it good night for you?” Xander looked at Damien.

“Very...and a good day.”  

“You’re going to work tomorrow?”  

“It’s been a few days and Paul is going on vacation soon, so I want to be back before he leaves.”

“Then, Xander and I were wondering if it was okay if we stayed here alone tomorrow.” 

“I don’t know...”  

“D-man, nobody comes to the house uninvited. We’ll call the cleaners and tell them to come the next day and we’ll call Cecile and tell her that everything is back to normal, and she can start teaching me how to cook the day after tomorrow.”  

“And even if anyone does turn up who’s uninvited, then I can teach Xander how to hone his skills.” She gave her father a wicked smile.

“There will be no practicing, on people or with each other for right now. I don’t know if you two can hurt each other, but I’m not about to find out, so any practicing that gets done, gets done with me there, do I make myself clear?”  

“As crystal, daddy-o.”  

“You two can stay home alone.”

“I once told you that I only had you. But that isn’t true. I have a grandfather and grandmother and a brother. That’s all the family I have or want...until Xander has a baby.”

“You have a grandmother.” He fell over with laughter. “You know, that explains why you never got angry when I’d call you a bitch.”  

“Alexander, don’t call your sister names.”   

“That makes you the grandson of a bitch.” 

“And we all know what that makes him...” He jerked his thumb in their father’s direction.

“You know, you two can go back to your rooms if you want.”  

“Delia, from whom do you think we inherited our senses of humor? Damien, is Satan particularly funny?”  

“Maybe jackals have a sense of humor that science has yet to discover.”  

“I’m going to sleep now.” Damien adjusted his pillows.

“What does Satan look like?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you that any more than the nazarene could tell you what his father looked like. I wasn’t walking around looking like this waiting to be born. I can feel him and that’s enough for me. I also want you two to start thinking of where you want to go for summer vacation, though I already know where she Delia wants to go, but if you both don’t start behaving yourselves, I’ll take you to Disneyland.” 

“I was wrong, he does have a sense of humor, and a dreadful one at that. She wants to go to England.” 

“Is that where you would like to go?”

“Yes, but do you?” 

“Why wouldn’t I want to go?”  

“Because you almost died there.”  

Damien grinned. “Almost being the operative word. If both of you want, we can go to England.”

“Clean your chimney, guvnah? Cor blimey, she’s a cracking bird, ain’t she?” 

She laughed at her brother’s ridiculous accent.

“Yeah, but don’t do that. Is that a plan then?” 

Both children nodded in agreement.

“Okay, England it is. Would Delia like me to arrange a meeting with the Queen at Buckingham Palace?” 

She and her father had already discussed going to England once Xander knew who he was, so the questions that her father was now asking were part of a long-established ritual and as usual, she frowned at her father’s first suggestion.

“Would Delia like to go to Stafford-upon-Avon and see Shakespeare’s birthplace and perhaps take in a play?”  

She was more excited this time since she genuinely enjoyed Shakespeare.

“Would Delia like me to take her to all the places that I killed those useless priests and relieved them of their equally useless knives?”  

She leapt across the bed and into Damien’s arms, though she was no longer small enough to jump on her father so most of her landed beside him.

“Ouch, those elbows are pointy. Okay, this jackal says it’s time for sleep. Some of us poor slobs have to get up and go to work so he wants his pups in bed.”  

“Who are the pups?” Xander walked across the bed and stood behind Delia, bent over, and began to move her hair.

“Remember, young jackals are called pups, so that’s what we are, we’re his pups.” She put head forward so that he could find what he was looking for.

“Normally, I’d demand to be called something a little more masculine, but given the circumstances, pup it is.” After some looking, he found her three sixes and touched them. He jumped off the bed. “I guess I can’t say you’re adopted any more. Wanna see mine?”  

“I’ve seen yours before, but sure.”  

He sat on the bed, and she stood behind him; it took her less time than it had taken him to find hers.

“That was fast.” He looked up at her.

“Like I said, I’ve seen it plenty of times, while you were sleeping.”

They both came back to their father to say goodnight.

“I love you, Xandman.” He gave his son a hug.

“I know you love me more because I’m going to be the Antichrist. It’s okay, it’ll be our secret,” he had less than discretely whispered that last part and he let go of his father and made his way to his sleeping bag.

He hugged her. “You’ll always be special. I love you, Junior.” 

“Goodnight.” She hung onto him not wanting to let go and let the day come to an end. “I love you, too.”  She joined her brother on the floor and Damien turned off the light.

“Xander, did you know Damien was a hippie?”   

He burst out laughing. “I don’t think so.”  

“It’s true. He used to drive around in a hippie van, smoking pot and turning people on to the ways of Satan.”  

“I think you’re mixing up father and Scooby-Doo, though that would make a slightly more interesting cartoon.”  

“Groovy, outta sight.” Delia held up her two fingers as the peace sign.

“Disneyland.”

“He does understand that we know that he’s not half as annoyed as he wants us think that he is, right?”  

“Yes, but as the dad, he has to make obligatory dad comments, like ‘if you two don’t knock it off, I’m turning this car around and taking us right back home.’” She deepened her voice to sound like her father.

“Or in our case, ‘If you two don’t knock it off, Tom is turning this car around and taking us right back home.’”   

“Oh, I think Tom’s driving days are way over.”

Both of them laughed.

“I forgot to tell him to wake me up so that I could cook breakfast for him,” his voice was a whisper.  

“Maybe he’ll wake us up before he leaves,” she whispered back to him. She rolled over on her side and now the pair of them were facing each other. “So?” 

“So, I woke up this morning a human being, thinking that my family was possibly involved in organized crime. Now I’m going to bed knowing that I’m no more a human being than our dogs, Satan is my grandfather, and one day I’ll be the Antichrist, part of a chain meant to guide humankind to better and brighter tomorrow; so, all in all, just a regular, hum-drum day at the old Thorn homestead.”

Delia began laughing.

“I bear my soul to you, and you laugh.” Though now he was silent. “Do we have souls?”

“Yes, all three of us, as does Satan. And we’re psychologically like people, so we have a little more in common with people than we have with the dogs.” 

“I’m okay, for a fraction of a second, and then it all comes back to me. It’s so overwhelming.” 

“I know, but you don’t have to have everything all sorted out right now. That being said, Sleeping Beauty, gone are the days of you being in bed until ten in the morning. We’re on summer vacation and your time would be better spent learning...about you, about them, about Thorn, about all kinds of things.

“Look at Damien; look who he is. Does he sit around the house? Does he philander around with women? Does he take vacations six months a year? Does he take three-hour martini lunches? No, we hardly see him when he comes home from work because he has his nose in a stack of reports. When someone in the basement sneezes, Damien Thorn in his office says bless you because he pretty much knows everything that goes there. And you don’t have to do it all now, you have enough with learning about who you are, what that means in terms of being the Antichrist. That means spending more time with father...lucky duck.” 

“And you’ll help me?” 

She smiled, basking in the question. “I’ve been waiting three years for you to ask me that. We’ll help each other, I always need help with my people skills, and I can help you with business stuff and what goes on at Thorn, and religious things…but maybe Damien would like that part for himself…do you know, for example, whether our company is publicly traded or privately held?” 

“I have no bloody clue what you just asked.”  

“Well, you’re going to get a bloody clue. Public companies are traded, you know, like on the stock exchange. It means that the public can buy shares that the company makes available. However, since the public can buy shares, it means that that company must make available to its shareholders things like how much taxes it paid and what it owns in assets. Do you understand how much money we have?” 

“Mucho?” 

“The money you think we have is the tip of the iceberg. We have our fingers in all kinds of pies; pies, Xander, the general public is a lot better off not knowing about. Now that you know who you really are, and the kinds of things we might get up to...”

“Thorn is a private company?”  

“Well done, grasshopper. Right now, Damien owns the majority of the shares. One day, when we get old enough, you and I will own the most, next to father.”  

“Here I thought I was going to be a go-getter by asking you to teach me about jackals.” 

“You already know pretty much everything there is to know about jackals, so we can move on to other things.”  

“I think I like that people don’t live here with us.”  

“As do I. It makes us weird compared to other people who have, well, nearly the same amount of money as we do, but I don’t care. Now we really can say and do all kinds of things without people watching.”  

“Like what?”

They moved closer to each other, and their voices were inaudible, but whispers were followed by giggles and titters.

“And I thought you were such an innocent child.” He clucked his tongue at her.

“Now you’ll learn how the Thorn pups misbehave.” 

“Do the dogs listen to us because we’re like them?”  

“No, but they’re special dogs...you understand that, right?”  

“Special how?”  

“They come when we think about wanting them. They’re familiars, from Satan to protect us.”  

“Really?” 

“Think him here.”  

He thought Damien’s Milo to him, and the dog came padding over and lay down between them. “Cool.”  

“Your dog stayed with you today because he could sense that you were troubled. They know when we need them.”  

He should have realized that...all the times that his dog had magically appeared just when he had needed him most. He reached out and stroked the dog’s head and smiled. “I know one thing I’ve done before you.”  

“What’s that?”

“Killed people.”  

“Is that a fact?”

“You’re lying.” Though the tone in his voice already let his sister know that he knew that she wasn’t.

“Am I? Don’t you think it’s odd that a ten-year-old boy drops dead while playing baseball, Alexander? A shame, really, but then, maybe poor, misguided Steve Paret should have watched his fucking mouth and not called a certain someone a whore; or put forward the unacceptable notion that he and the future Antichrist were the same because they were both happened to be male. He was supposed to be in the same as class as I was come September, but, well, I’m sure you can understand why I simply couldn’t abide that.”

It had been two summers ago. Delia had insisted on going to the baseball game, though she wasn’t friends with anyone who was playing. It had been the fifth inning when the boy had gotten up to bat and then he began shaking and swatting at something that wasn’t there. He had collapsed to the ground and had begun convulsing and was completely still. His father had run out onto the field and his mother had fainted and when it was clear that her son was dead. She had then wanted to go home.

She had been eerily silent in the car and had spent much of the day ignoring him until before dinner, when she had wanted to go play in the stables. He had gotten used to her odd behaviour so hadn’t pressed her about anything that had happened after the game.

“You’re not disappointed with me, are you?” She was trying to make sense of his silence.

“Nah, I’m just disappointed that I didn’t get to him first.” He yawned. “I’m tired, Nag.” 

“It was a long day, Annoying One, but it’s over now and it only gets better from here. I don’t mean to make you feel bad about anything.”   

“I know and I don’t.”  

“Good, we’ll start tomorrow...I mean later.” She yawned; like her brother, she was finding it difficult to stay awake.

They couldn’t move any closer to each other because the dog now lay between them.

“What were we thinking, anyway?”

Delia frowned. “About what?”

“Going to different schools.”

“Silly us. I guess we’re stuck with each other for the rest of our lives.” Though she was now hit with a wave of guilt. “What is it?”

“It’s why I was in the car without you. Because I needed a break. It got a little much sometimes.” He smiled at her in the darkness. “I understand now…why you were on me like a hawk. But we have each other again. We can look out for each other.”

“Always.” She smiled back.

One mind touched the other, and their thoughts and feelings swirled together, each with its own unique song and color and once they were satisfied with how they had said goodnight, it didn’t take long until the Thorn children were sound asleep.

Damien, who had not fallen asleep, but had instead listened to his children’s banter, smiled in the dark. There was a peace and a calm in the house and inside of him that hadn’t been there in a long time. Until it was gone, he hadn’t really realized what a burden all of this had been. He exhaled everything that had come before and took a deep breath, inhaling the new life that now filled the house.

He rolled over onto his right, sent a prayer of gratitude to his Father, and let the day come an end.

Chapter Text

He and Delia had spent the day doing work that their father had left for them. His sister had also made him make a list of things to pack for their trip to England. He had helped Cecile prepare dinner and he was now sitting on the stairs in the foyer, waiting for his father to come home, which he did shortly before five.

Damien smiled as he came in and closed the door behind him; Xander now joined him, his hand outstretched.

“May I?”

He handed over his briefcase. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my son?”

“I’m not that bad, am I? How was your day?”

“I’m just yanking your chain. Not too busy. I was able to play catch up with some work. Have meetings over the next few days, but nothing overly taxing. You?” He put his hand on Xander’s shoulder and walked him to the study.

“We did our work. Delia made me get a list together for our trip and begin to pack up some things. I suggest you start figuring out what you’re bringing, or she’s gonna be on you next. I helped Cecile with dinner…” He put the case on the desk and took a seat.

Damien laced his fingers behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and sighed with contentment. “A good day at work, spending some time with my son, and now, Beef Wellington, and before I forget.” He sat up, opened his briefcase and pulled out a tiny brown envelope, emptying the contents into Xander’s outstretched hand. “That is yours. I would appreciate it if it doesn’t leave the house.”

It had only been three days since the conversation, but Xander had already spent a significant amount of time in the Chapel, both alone and with his father and sister. He would take a crystal dish from the hutch like Delia had done and put it on one of his dressers. He furrowed his brow, and held up the key to his father, who seemed to have anticipated the question.

“We technically don’t need it. You could get into the room, even if it was locked, by turning the doorknob.”

“It didn’t work when we were little.”

“No. You need…let’s call it intent and self-knowledge. The key denotes purpose. Stopping to use it reminds you of the room you are going into and why. There are also these.”

Damien held out the bibles, and Xander took them.

“Like your sister started with…one is the King James’ version, the other is in a little more contemporary language. Also, like with your sister, I divided up the book into a reading schedule. I don’t want you going past what I’ve set out as one night’s reading.”

“Why?”

“It’s bound to make you feel…uneasy. You can read less, but not more until you get more of all of this under your belt. Especially given the fact that we will be going to one of their churches on Sunday.”

Xander turned the King James’ version of the bible over in his hand, laughing. “This must be your version of buying condoms.”

Damien smirked. “Perhaps. If I had paid for them.”

“You stole them?” He clutched imaginary pearls. “I am shocked.”

“How are things going with everything else?”

“Delia gave me some things to look over…about Thorn.”

“Good but take your time. Dinner will be soon, and then I’d like to sit and watch some tv with the pair of you. After, I’ll do some work, and you can read if you want.”

“Sounds like a plan. If I were you, however, I wouldn’t be late. Delia was ogling that Beef Wellington like it was the last life raft leaving the Titanic.”

Damien got up. “Let me go wash up now and stand guard.”

“I’ll be there, too.”

He made a quick detour into the dining room and took one of the small crystal bowls and then went upstairs. He put the bowl on his dresser, then put the key in it, and left the bibles on his desk. He picked up Delia’s key, quickly dropped into in her bowl, and took off back downstairs for dinner…

…666…

It was nine forty-five when there was a knock at his door. “Abandon all hope ye who enter here.”

Damien opened the door, looked around, and eventually entered. “Is that me abandoning all hope of you ever having a neat room for more than three days in a row?”

“I plead the fifth on the grounds that I might incriminate myself.”

“How’s it going?”

He was sitting at his desk and put the bible face down. His father had taken a seat on the bed. “Not bad. Made some notes. I didn’t realize that so much time had passed.”

“Well, time does fly when you’re having fun.”

“And also, when you’re not having fun.” He picked up his pajamas from his bed, and went into his bathroom, used the facilities, and changed. He washed his hands and found Damien still sitting on the bed when he came back out into his room.

“Did you look?”

“Not without your permission.”

“Be my guest.”

Xander, like Delia, had started with the King James’ version. Damien picked it up and noticed that several things were highlighted in Genesis. He had also jotted things down in a notebook, including whether some of the names of the rivers mentioned in the first chapter were real. 

“How are you finding the reading?”

“Both peachy and keen. I can keep going in the King James?”

“If you’re not having any issue…I have some bible encyclopedias that might help with some of the questions you have, like with the names of the rivers.”

“Can’t be more helpful than that, huh?”

“Nope. I want you to work things out on your own as much as possible.”

“Then I graciously accept your gift of encyclopedias, Sahib.”

“My study is now yours, too. Have a look. If there’s anything in there that’s of interest to you, take it. Just check with me to see if it’s something I’m using at the moment.”

“Are you using the Chapel right now?”

Damien smiled. “I’m not quite ready to hit the hay. Go up, spend some time, but then I want you in bed. I know there’s no school, but I want to keep the pair of you on a schedule.”

“Goodnight, guvnah.” He tipped an imaginary hat to his father.

“Night, Xander. I love you and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Damien went to his room, and Xander grabbed the key and went up the stairs, and as he clutched his key in his hand, he understood what his father had told him. The Chapel was special and going there was unlike going to any other place in the house, and he liked that sense of purpose that it gave him.

He put the key in the door and turned; it unlocked without so much as the tiniest of hesitations. He went inside and closed the door, and whatever stress, anxiety, or negativity he had melted into nothingness. He sat against the furthest wall away from the door and drew his knees up to his chest.

His father had also been right when he had told him that being in the Chapel would take away the desire to question. Every day, he made notes of things that were still issues for him, but he suspected that it wouldn’t be too long until he had noquestions at all about who he was or the why of it all. All he knew was that being in the room made him feel whole and made him feel more like himself than anything else.

“Thank you, Satan, for my life and for my family, and for making Yourself known to me. I love You.” He bowed his head and just sat until tiredness was keeping his eyes closed longer than he wanted.

Back in his room, his Milo jumped onto the bed while he brushed his teeth and washed his face.

“I’m ready for sleep. How about you?”

His dog stood up; walked in a circle; plopped back down and curled up.

“See you in the morning, me ol’ mucker.”

He reached over and turned off the bed side lamp, and pulled the covers over his head, and it didn’t take long until he was asleep…

…he was crossing a length of grass, moving towards the remnants of a church…there was a boy…Peter, and Peter clung onto him, and while he could feel rapturous love coming off the boy, he in turn felt nothing…  

Kate walked ahead of them while he kept his arm around the boy…  

Down a short flight of stairs…

“No!”  

The last priest came out of the shadows and without thinking, he turned, picked up the boy, and put him onto the dagger that the priest had carried…  

“Where is your god now, priest!”  

He wanted the life of the man…the choke him and feel him die, but…  

…a hate the likes of which he had never known permeated every fiber of his being…he wanted someone so badly, the taste of it sat in his mouth like an unholy thing…  

not someone...  

the nazarene 

He left the priest and went deeper into the structure for somewhere in the church was his mortal enemy…  

He called out…challenging him to come forward, but nothing, so further into the church he went… 

He crossed more grass…  

The last section of the church…this had to be it…  

A shadow up ahead…he smiled…  

His enemy would be dead…he would wring the life out of the nazarene, and the Antichrist and Satan would be triumphant… 

“You bastard!”  

Pain…  

Pain the likes of which he had never felt…burning ice spreading itself through his veins freezing him from the inside out…a scream issued forth from him…from his soul…it would have shattered every window in the church had they existed…  

He moved forward…slowly…the burning cold slowing down his movements…filling his body with icy death…  

he saw…something…  

the burning ice was seeping into his lungs and his heart…  

He fell to his knees…  

“nazarene, you have won nothing…”  

He collapsed…  

The burning ice succeeded in its job as death took him…  

Alexander Thorn sat up in bed and sheer terror escaped from his lips… 

Damien had felt whatever was happening before the blood curdling screams came from across the hall.

“Xander!”

He sprung up from his bed, tore open his bedroom door, and then his son’s. Delia was already there, her brother in her arms. He had not stopped screaming.

He didn’t take Xander away from her, instead, he sat and wrapped his arms around the pair of them and tried to get into his son’s head.

“Xander, let me in. Please don’t block me.”

But Delia knew better. Her brother was too…stuck inside to be stopping himself from doing anything. His physical existence was not in danger, but she feared that he would be unfixably broken inside of himself if he did not come out of what was happening to him. She knew how to block them from herself, so she pushed forward until…there it was…the place that he shared with her and her alone, and while she could feel them, she did not stop until finally, she felt him grab ahold of the part of her that belonged only to him. She shared her heat with him; gave to him her life.

He took deep breaths, steadying himself as best he could.

“I’ve got you.” Damien held him tighter.

“I’m stabbed…I’m bleeding.”

He did something that he had not done in a long time: he picked up Xander and carried him somewhere. In the bathroom, Damien put him down. He didn’t need to ask where he had been stabbed. He knew that if Kate had gotten that dagger into him, it would have landed square into his back where he would have been unable to reach it.

He pulled up his son’s pajama top. “Look. No wound. No knife. No stabbing.”

“I felt it…I hurt…it hurts…make it stop. I’m cold. Make it stop, daddy. Please make it stop.”

Delia had not left his mind; it was the only reason he was able to vocalize what was going on inside of him. She sent more of herself to him, and he took it all.

“Start a fire, please, in my room.”

She ran across the hall and pressed the button to start the gas fireplace. It was summer outside, the air conditioning was set at full blast, but a fire blazed forth in the hearth of his bedroom.

He sat, pulling his son down in front of him, holding onto him as tight as he dared. Delia sat beside him, and he put his arm around her; she in turn, took her brother’s hand.

“I want you to feel me and Deedle. Feel us. Feel our love. Feel the warmth from upstairs. Don’t think. Just take. Relax. I have you and I’m not letting go.”

Xander shivered in his arms, his teeth clattering loudly, and he was still crying.

All three of the dogs came in, sat beside them, and Xander’s Milo laid his head in his young Master’s lap. He grasped his dog’s ear, holding and rubbing it, something he had not done since he had been a small boy.

All the while, both he and Delia became the calm in the eye of the storm, and peace and tranquility eventually won out against the whirlwind of hate inside of his son’s head. Xander was mumbling something, Damien couldn’t understand what it was, but a self-satisfied sigh issued forth and he felt Xander’s body grow heavy as he finally succumbed to the heat of the fire and his sister and father. He mumbled something else, but mid-mumble, he fell asleep against his chest.

Like her father, Delia had no words or thoughts because she didn’t want to send anymore hate to the one who had had enough hate inside of him already. She let go of his hand and ran to her room and pulled her blankets and pillows off of her bed. When she came back, her father had moved so that she could put down one of the blankets, which she lay down on.

Damien positioned Xander next to Delia and he burrowed against her as he handed her the pillows and then covered them both, and then sat down beside Xander.

Not once did she leave her brother’s head, and holding onto him, she fell asleep.

Damien exhaled. He had been tired before, but now…it was a struggle for him to get to his feet without falling over from exhaustion. He would leave the door open, and the dogs would come and go as they wanted. He had no energy to think about what had transpired; that would happen tomorrow. He got into his bed and hiked the covers to his chin and was out.

…666…  

There was a cold nose in his face and his Milo licked at him until he sat up. Last night’s vision came back to him, and his hand went to his back, and he expected to feel blood, but there was nothing. There had been a fire, but apparently that had been shut off. He heard the toilet flush, the water run, and his father came out of the bathroom.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a fucking truck. I’m hungry, but I’m not cold anymore.”

“Nander?” She sat up.

“Present and accounted for.” He put his forehead against hers. “That’s not the vision you had, though.”

Damien sat on the floor next to his children. “No. She saw me die; apparently, you got to go through it firsthand.”

“I give the whole experience a negative a million out of a million. It did not have a good beat and I mostly definitely could not dance to it.”

“Cecile is here, so I want us to talk about something before we go downstairs. About church this Sunday…”

“I want to go.”

“I don’t think that’s a good…”

“But I want to.”

“Delia?”

She had been petting her dog but looked but at her father. “Yes?”

“What do you think?”

She was silent for a moment. “You’re asking me what we should do?”

He smiled at her. “Why are you surprised? I value your opinion. I get the last vote, but I want to know what you think.”

She shook her head. “D-man, I don’t think you understand what happened. There is a very specific reason that they made Xander experience what you would have experienced had Kate killed you.” She turned to her brother. “As uncomfortable as they make us feel, we make them feel worse. To be around us is to be reminded of…Lucifer’s rebellion…reminded of one of the so-called god’s biggest failures. To be around all that so-called sin makes them far sicker than it makes us to be around all their so-called goodness.

“But that vision gives them access and more importantly, distance…like putting a timer on a bomb, setting it, walking away and watching the destruction from afar. Alexander Thorn, you have accepted who and what you are, and by doing that you have defacto accepted that one day you will be Antichrist. That was a warning to you. That was them basically saying ‘you had better watch your back.’

She turned to her father. “He has to go this Sunday. He needs to fight back against them. I know you wanted it to be thing the pair of you did together, but even if he hadn’t had that vision, it wouldn’t have been a good idea. They are going to come after him hard in that church. He is going to need us and our strength to be able to stay in there.”

“Xander, I am warning you now, it will be very uncomfortable…more so than it was for your sister. I speak from experience.”

“I want to go.”

“Then that’s what happens. Delia comes too.” Damien stood, and held out his hand, helping his son to his feet. “Let’s go.”

The trio headed downstairs to begin the day.

…666…  

Sunday came and after breakfast, they dressed in their best clothes. All three of them spent time in the Chapel, gathering themselves and the now sat in the car in the parking lot of St John St Luke’s Protestant Church. The same church that he had taken Delia to three years ago; the same church that Richard, Ann, and Mark used to attend.

“We will be with you. We will put ourselves in your head, but it’s up to you to reach out and take what we are offering. I’m the lead in this. That means you take from me first. Delia is your backup. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“I will not think less of you if you leave. We love you and we’ve got you.”

“Okay.”

The three of them got out of the car, and with him holding his sister’s hand, his father opened the door, and he entered, wondering how bad it could really be…

He gasped. He couldn’t breathe. He was being crushed, compressed on all sides, being scrunched into a small mass that would be tiny enough to fit in his father’s jacket pocket. He turned, his hand on the door that had shut behind them. He was bathed in sweat, and he was on the verge of puking. He was whimpering and whining, an animal caught in a trap that wanted nothing more than to be free…voices whispering in his head…vile words that spoke of doom, destruction, and never-ending torment for him and eventual obliteration…

He felt Damien and Delia pressing themselves further inside of his mind. He let his sister sit with him, but he did as his father had instructed and took the strength that he was offering. He had stopped whining, but his hand was still on the door, white knuckles standing out the brass handle.

Damien was unsure of how to proceed when he got a mental nudge from his daughter. She knew her brother and if this was what was needed to help, then that’s what he would do.

“Alexander, look at me. Now.”

It was a tone that under most circumstances led to very bad things happening to the person he was addressing.

“You have reason and self-knowledge. You are strong. You have the power to make it stop. Do it. We can leave, but they win.”

Xander pictured a door. They were on the other side of the door trying to push their way in…into the sacred space that was his mind, that which he shared with his family…his sister. So, if they were pushing against him, he would simply push back.

He braced himself, using the strength of his father and the presence of his sister to push the door closed on them. He imagined the key to the Chapel, and with purpose and intent he locked the door, and put the key in his pants pocket…

He collapsed against his father, who was wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief.

“Look at me, please.” He made sure to soften his tone as his son did what was asked of him. “I’m proud of you. That wasn’t easy. I know it’s still a struggle, but it will get easier each time until it becomes nothing.”

“I think I need some frozen custard after this.”

He smiled. “That works for me. We can go for ice cream after. Let’s find a seat.”

They sat at the back, wanting to be the first ones out once the service came to an end…

An hour and a half later found them at Fresco’s, enjoying handmade ice cream.

“How ya doing, Xandman?”

“Bloody exhausted.”

“I think we all need naps when we get home. What did you think about the service?”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I don’t understand...why didn’t he talk about Satan?”

“Did you want him too?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, shouldn’t he have? Isn’t that his job, to warn people?”

“Did you see how empty the church was? It’s even more so than when I brought Delia there. People don’t want to hear about themselves doing bad things or hear things that make them feel bad about themselves, so most people don’t go, which means less money for the church. So, now, mainstream churches are making the message of god more pleasant…he wants to be your friend and loves everyone just the way they are.”

“But that’s bullshit.”

Damien gave his son a smile and continued eating his pistachio gelato…

…666…  

Over the next few weeks, he had his father take him to a few different churches, even going on weekdays, mostly to Catholic churches that had mass on a daily basis. He had learned to block them and now found that he didn’t need to do any work because it was no longer an issue. It was also just him and Damien now.

One Sunday morning, he was eating breakfast in the den, and his father came in with his coffee and took a seat on the sofa. On the television, a preacher was doing his best to let everyone know that hellfire and damnation were coming for them…unless of course they sent him money.

“Should I do it?”

“Not even as a joke.”

“He says he believes in Satan, and I totally believe him. That’s so he’ll have someone to blame when he gets caught with a prostitute, like that other guy. And people really give him money?”

“Millions of dollars, all of which is tax free.”

“The homosexual agenda, whatever the fuck that is…the Jewish conspiracy...for christians, they sure hate a lot of people.” He finished his breakfast and the pair of them went to church.

Damien also took him to a less mainstream service to hear one of the fire and brimstone preachers in person, and just like the preacher on tv, he said ridiculous things, all of which the people in the church wholeheartedly agreed with. At one point, the preacher brought up another man to give a sermon, but as he spoke, Xander began to realize that while he was railing against Satan and His so-called evil ways, he could feel some warm and fuzzy feelings on the subject at hand.

His gasp was loud enough to force the man sitting in front of him to turn around and give him a dirty look. He looked up at his father and then hurried out of the church and barely made it outside when he exploded in a fit of hysterical laughter…

One rainy Sunday found the Thorns in a small Protestant church that they had frequented earlier but had a new pastor.  After his sermon, which Xander had found mildly interesting, but seemed to bore everyone else, he waited to talk to the minister, who was busy shaking hands with the members of the congregation, most of whom were trying to hurry out of the church to make it home before the weather got worse.

“Nice to see you here, Mr. Thorn. We don’t often get someone of your social standing to our tiny and ever dwindling congregation.”

“Please, call me Damien.” He offered the pastor his hand. “The truth of God’s message isn’t dependent on the size of the church.”

“Very true. I hope I said something that sparked some interest, though it didn’t seem to with anyone else.”

“Well, it may have with my son; he wanted to come and speak with you.”

“Nice to meet you, young man.”

The pastor offered his hand, and he shook it. “Call me Xander.”

He smiled. “Nice to meet you, Xander. What was it that you wanted to ask?”

“Do you believe in the Devil?”

“That was direct and to the point. Well, Xander, I believe in evil.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I want to know if you believe in Satan, like in the same way that you believe in god.”

“Do you mean do I think that Satan exists?”

“Pretty much.”

“Satan is a metaphor for people who can’t handle the evil that they do and need to find a scapegoat that they can blame their actions on.”

“But the bible says that the Devil exists. What about when jesus was in the desert and was tempted by Satan?”

“Well, I’m one of those people who thinks that not everything that happened in The Bible happened just the way it was written. The Bible uses many metaphors in order to help humans understand God.

“Was Jesus visited by Satan? I’ll say yes to that, but more than likely he was the only one. However, I truly think that Satan in that story represents the temptations we inevitably face when we turn our backs on worldly pursuits and go towards God. It’s like Jonah and the whale…whether it happened is less important than learning the lesson that God is in control, and we can't run from what He wants us to do.”

“So, you don’t think that Satan is real? That He could be here? That He could have been in your church today?”

Pastor Douglas laughed. “What would Satan be doing here?”

Xander extended his hand. “Thank you, Pastor.”

“I hope I answered your question, or at least helped?”

“You did.”

“Let’s go before the weather gets worse. Thank-you.” Damien shook the pastor’s hand again as a woman came over to the pastor and whispered in his ear and she walked away at a brisk pace.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a leaky roof to contend with.” He took off in the same direction as the woman.

The Thorns made a mad dash to the car in the downpour, getting into the car as a clap of thunder echoed across the vacant parking lot.

“I guess it’s to prepare us for English weather, D-man.” He smirked and turned to his father. “Do you have your check book here?”

“No, why?”

“Because I want you to help him fix his roof.”

Damien did something he rarely did: he burst out laughing. 

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, that’s what makes it so funny.  Okay, I’ll come back here and write him a check for however much it costs to get it fixed or replaced so that every time he looks up at his roof, he’ll owe it to someone he doesn’t think exists...Satan will have literally put a roof over his head.” 

“A Kewpie doll to the Antichrist.” He watched the church recede in the rear-view mirror as they headed home. 

…666…  

A few days later, Damien came down dressed for work. He passed by the study and then walked back. Behind his desk sat his son.

“You okay?”

“Oh yeah. Just doing some reading.”

“I’m getting some coffee. Want anything?”

“Juice, please.”

Damien returned with his coffee and a large glass of fresh orange juice for his son.

“I’m going to have to have you start sleeping in again or slacking off somehow…all this go-getting is disconcerting.” He sat in the chair across from his desk.

“Danke.” He took a drink. “I think I’ve pretty much come to a decision about something.”

“I’m intrigued.” Damien took a drink of his coffee.

“Their god certainly does like to get his cock sucked.”

Damien tried as best he could to stifle the laugh, but he couldn’t, and began choking. He had put his hand over his mouth, but it was no use as he began coughing and the coffee ended up on his shirt and pants, while a good portion of it landed on papers on his desk. It had come out his nose as well, and he stood to try to catch his breath, reaching over to the tissue box at the same time.

“Shit! I’m sorry.” Xander came out from behind the desk, taking off his pajama shirt, drying what he could off his father. He handed the top to him, so he could dry off whatever coffee had ended up on his pants. “Please don’t choke to death. I’d miss you and Delia would try to take over Thorn and her ego’s already big enough as it is.”

“I’m okay…I think.” He was still sputtering and wiped his eyes with one of the tissues and once he had gotten hold of himself, blew his nose to get rid of whatever had come out of there.

“Here.” He handed his father his juice, which Damien got down nearly in one gulp.

“If you are going to say things like that, please make sure that next time I’m not eating or drinking something.”

“Do you need to change?”

“I will, but let’s finish the conversation so I don’t have to do it twice.” He sat again.

Xander took the things that were on the desk that were wet and moved them, drying what he could, putting papers somewhere else so they could air dry.

“So, it began when I was reading the Ten Commandments.”

“Go on.”

“So, the so-called god invents himself. I’m not asking how, or why, just accepting that it happened. I’m guessing he’s pretty pleased with himself, but it’s like that’s not good enough for him, and his next thought is, ‘it’s no fun stroking myself off,’ so he invents the angels, whose job it is to literally tell him how fucking fantastic he is.

“At whatever point it is, the so-called god created Lucifer…the smartest and strongest of all the angels. Someone as more of a companion…an equal and for however long it was, it’s all okay…the angels telling the so-called god how big he is, and he gets them all hot and bothered, and the so-called god sitting back and enjoying every minute of it.

“Until one…day, Lucifer looks around and says, ‘hey, maybe, I want my cock sucked, too. Why? Because I exist and I want it, that’s why. He goes takes a poll, and it seems the other angels are dissatisfied as well…tired of telling the so-called god how wonderful he is, like, all of the time. We get it, you invented everything, but give it a rest. Lucifer now thinks that he can do a better job of keeping the other angels happy and dealing with the new things, AKA, human beings.

“So, Lucifer confronts the so-called god and says, ‘we’re tired of it. You’ve got all this glory for yourself, we’ve helped, and you suck at being in charge, so it’s time for a change of management.’

“Now the so-called god could have negotiated something. Would it have helped? Who knows. The important thing is that he didn’t even try to share and instead says to Lucifer, ‘get bent.’” Rebellion ensues and He gets booted out of the so-called heaven.

“The first four commandments are about him...about making sure he gets his cock sucked just right, or else. You’d think it would be don’t kill, or honour your parents, don’t steal, but nope, it’s I’m first and you’d better fucking believe I will reign down my fury if you don’t get me off just the way I like.

“He punishes the first two people who disobey a pretty un-fucking-fair rule because they didn’t obey just the way that he wanted them to.

“What he did was petty. I’m not blaming him, but it was petty, and you have to be eighteen ways from blind not to see that. Petty I get; petty I understand. Instead, he’s treated as being noble. He didn’t kick Lucifer out of the so-called heaven in order to protect people; he did it because Lucifer was no longer willing to fondle him the way that he wanted.

He finished whatever orange juice Damien had left in the glass. “It really is about sides. It really is about the so-called god being pissed off that anybody else dared to have what he had. I don’t need their church anymore. I can read on my own…if that’s okay.”

“You can go anytime you want, but if that’s how you feel…you’ve done your due diligence as far as I’m concerned.”

“Unless Delia and I can go on our own.”

“Yeah, that smile tells me that there would be some shenanigans afoot.”

“Delia and I involved in shenanigans? Don’t you trust us?”

“No.” He thought about it. “Tell you what. I’ll go with the pair of you. You do what you’d do if you both were alone, and we’ll see.”

“Sorry about the uhm…”

“Oh, it was worth it. Also, everything for England is set. The BBC want to do an interview, so I will be able to show you around the studio. The sitting Ambassador is more than happy to give us a tour of the house. The grounds are truly impressive…I’ll be able to introduce you and your sister to Old Nick. He might be still around.”

“Old Nick?”

“He’s a pike that I…”

“He’s a what?”

“A pike. It’s a…”

They were at the bottom of the stairs. “I know what a pike is.” He shook his head. “I’m going to assume that I inherited my cool from Satan because both you and Delia are certified dorks. I hope you know that.”

“What about jackals?” Damien was undoing his tie as he went up the stairs.

“Jackals are cool. You take me to the zoo and introduce me to the jackals, and we’ll talk.”

“The zoo.” He flicked his tie at his son. “Now who’s the dork.”

“You mean go to Africa!?”

“No, Antarctica. Yes, Africa. Best time to go is in September. It’s a little late to go now, but we can plan for next year. Etosha National Park in Namibia…we can buy out most of the campsites for our stay. Just us and no one else to interfere with our interactions.”

“Maybe dork was a little harsh. Any requests for dinner?”

“Surprise me.”

“I’ll be here packing and you’d better…”

“I know. She already talked to me. See ya tonight.”

“Have a good day. I’ll eat breakfast once she wakes up.”

His son went into his room and Damien went into his to change so he could have breakfast and then leave for work…

Chapter Text

Delia sat on the window seat, engrossed in her poetry book, when her head jerked up, realizing that her brother was at the door. She silently acknowledged him.

“Sorry.”

“I knocked three times.” He came in and closed the door behind himself, taking a seat on her bed. “Thought you had a big breakfast and might have taken a nap, but then I thought, hey wait a minute, that’s me.”

“I was otherwise engaged.” She held up the book.

“Let me see?”

She handed the book to him. “Spartan poetry, and Alcman to boot.” He gave her a wicked grin. “The dialect must be driving you mad.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”  

“And with no translation. Delia Thorn, stop trying to keep all the fun for yourself.”

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Besides just wanting to see you, Cecile wants to know if you want to go into the city with her.”

“I think I’ll sit this one out.”

“Yeah, I told her it was a no from me.”

She watched as he got up from the bed, went to her bookshelf and began to browse, picking up a few different books and turning them over in his hands.

“Is there something I can help you find, or…”

“No. I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

There was silence in the room as she left her brother alone for a while, until curiosity got the better of her. “Why am I getting the distinct feeling that there is something you’d like to talk to me about, but you’re putting it off.”   

He turned to look at her. “Whatever gave you that idea?” 

“Call it female intuition; call it ‘us’ intuition; call it picking up the same book and reading the first page six times. Whatever works for you.”  

“Can I talk to you about something?” He sat on the bed again.

“You can talk to me about anything.”

“I know, but this might actually be trickier than confiding in you that I hate Satan and don’t want to be the Antichrist.” 

“That’s saying something, but it doesn’t matter; tell me.” 

He was silent for a while, but then he inhaled deeply and then exhaled. “I like someone, and I don’t know what to do about it.”  

Delia stared at her brother. Again, silence filled the room.

“What?” 

“Nothing, I just...okay...I thought I knew everything about you. How did this one get past me?”  

“I’ve been playing it pretty close to the chest and I haven’t, you know, like, like liked this someone for that long.”   

“I see.” Delia sat quietly.

“I don’t know what I should do.” 

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” 

“Should I tell her? If I tell her and she doesn’t like me back in the same way, I don’t know what to do about it.”  

“Xander, I can’t tell you that, that’s something that you have to work out for yourself. I can help you figure it out, but I can’t give you a definitive yes or no answer. Who is she?” 

“I’d rather not say.”   

“Do I know her?”   

“Again, I’d rather not say.”   

“Okay...does father know?”    

“No, I wanted to talk to you first.”   

She got up, went to her desk, and grabbed a notebook from one drawer and two pencils from another. “Fuck. Not a pros and cons list.”  

“So, you don’t want my help then because I will do all I can to help you come to a conclusion about your conundrum. I will also sit here and let you bitch to me, or you can tell me how cute she is, but I won’t tell you what to do.” She sat beside him on the bed.

He let out a sigh. “Okay, Junior, a pros and cons list it is.”  

Delia divided up the paper into two columns, one for pro and one for con. “Just start spit balling and we’ll see where that takes us.”

But he only sat in silence.

“In order for me to write something down, you have to say something.”  

“All I can keep thinking is what if I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same way?” He watched as she put a dash on the con side, jotting down what he had said.

“What if she tells me that she likes someone else.”

“Who could compete with you?”

Though she had written what he had said.

“Well, now you’re gonna make me blush. If I tell her, it will all be out in the open. I’ll be relieved, cuz the anxiety is killing me.”  

“If she tells you that she likes someone else, you can move on…fickle.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think there is moving on.”

“She can’t be that special.”

“And yet she is.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Entrez vous, Cécile.”

“Bonjour. Last call for anyone who would like to accompany me into the city.”

“I’ll pass for today.”

Xander got up and smiled. “Why don’t you have lunch while you’re out? I’ll make lunch for the pair of us.” He gestured back to the bed.

A vacant expression sat on her face for a very brief amount of time. “Okay, I’ll be back by three or so.”

“Oh, Damien wants more pistachio gelato. Bleck.”

“It’s pistachio gelato, not ground toads. Though if you are stopping at Frescos, I’ll take some vanilla custard.”

“Chocolate fudge, please.”

“The gelato and custard are already both on my list; I’ll add the chocolate fudge. Anything else?”

Delia frowned. “Not that I can think of.”

“Then I’ll see you both later.”

“Should we have asked Cecile? She’s a girl. Well, a woman, but I’m sure that she could have added her opinion on the matter.

“Just you.”

They kept going until both columns were filled; there were noticeably more items in the con’s column.

“Tell me how you feel about her, or how she makes you feel.”  

“I don’t know...”  

“If you can’t tell me, then how are you going to tell her? I won’t make fun of you...I’ll tell your friends and let them do that for me.” She smiled mischievously at him. “That was a joke. She’s going to want you to get all sappy over her and tell her all about how her blonde hair shines like moonlight and her eyes have the color of the sky and crap like that.” She was poised with the pencil in her hand.

He paused for a moment. “She’s smart and not I know the capitals of the world smart, but genuinely intelligent. She’s funny, she makes me laugh. I have fun with her, I like spending time with her. I make food and bring it to school for her and I love watching her eat it; she looks at the food the way I want her to look at me. I love cooking, but I especially love cooking for her. I look forward to spending time with her and when we’re apart, I think about being with her. The best moment of my day is when I first see her, my chest hurts, and I want to touch her. Just sitting with her and not doing anything...that’s perfection. I’m worried that she likes some other boy, or that she won’t like me back; I don’t know what I’m going to do if that’s the case. Hey, you didn’t write down anything.”  

“Xander...”   

“What?”  

“That was intense. I thought I’d hear about her hair, or how she fills out a sweater, but...does she know who you are?”  

“Yes.”   

Her eyes widened. “Okay, seriously, who is she, because I don’t know of any girl our age who knows that you’re the Antichrist-to-be.”  

He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, she knows who I am, and I am not yet prepared to divulge who she is.”  

She put down the pencil. “I understand why you don’t want to tell her, but think about it, if she likes you back...”  She smiled.

“Would you want to know if someone liked you?”  

“I don’t like any boys.”   

“That’s not what I asked. Would you want Aaron to tell you that he likes you? Assuming that he hasn’t already.” 

“No, he hasn’t told me that he likes me and yes, I’d want someone to tell me.”  

“Why?”  

“So that I could tell him that I don’t like him back and that he should move on to someone else.”

“That’s it? What if it was a boy that you liked?” 

“Then, yes, I’d want to know so I could tell him that I felt the same way about him.”

“Well, I guess I’ve arrived at the part where I mull things over, and I can’t do that on an empty stomach. What’s say we do lunch?”

“I’m in.”

In the kitchen, Xander washed his hands. “I’m taking requests.”

“Well, I was going to ask for burgers and fries, but since we’re talking about grown-up things, make me something sophisticated to go with my grape soda.”  

He laughed and then looked at her and nodded, deciding what he would make her for lunch. “I can do that.”  

“You said that you haven’t liked, you know, like, like liked her for that long.”

“Are you, like, mocking me?”

“Like, maybe?”

“I can make you a bowl of cereal, you know.”

She pouted at him. “You’d make me eat a bowl of cereal while you had…some kind of roast beef sandwich that looks like it’s going to be super yummy? I’ll tell Cecile on you.”

“As if I’d let you eat a bowl of cereal.”

“We haven’t been in school since you were taken in the beginning of June.”

“I brought food to school before then.”

“But you didn’t like her then?”

“No.”

“Ah. So, what does she look like?”  

He turned to face her. “Well, she sort of has a head in this area here, and two arms that kind of come out from her body...” he moved aside as a spatula came flying at him.

“You know, you’re lucky I love you and that you’re my brother because right about now, I’ve pretty much had it with all your mysterious girl bullshit.”  

In response, he blew a kiss back to his her and then began preparing lunch…

It was forty-five minutes later when she set the table in the dining room instead of the kitchen table. She broke out the crystal goblets and the china but used the second-best flatware since she didn’t want to polish the silver. She also grabbed the champagne bucket, put in some ice, added four cans of grape soda, and brought it back to the dining room. He carried out their plates and put them on the table.

“Milady.” He held the chair out for her.

“Danke.” She drew the chair in the closer to the table.

“Bitte.” He took his own seat.

“It looks and smells so good.” She closed her eyes and inhaled.

“Well, the proof is in the eating of the pudding…metaphorical pudding of course.”

He had used some of the marinated beef that was being used for dinner that night and had added Swiss cheese and had put everything on thick slices of sourdough bread and had put them in the toaster oven. He had also prepared potato wedges and once they had come out of the deep fryer, he had dredged them in spices.

Delia picked up the first half of her sandwich and took a bite. It was perfect. She chewed and closed her eyes again, savoring the tang of the spicy mustard that he had added to give it some kick. When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her.

“It’s beyond delicious.”

“Thank-you. I’m glad you like it.”

“Anna’s right about something.”   

“And what would that be?”  

“You are going to make some woman very happy one day. Cheers.” She picked up her glass of grape soda that he had poured for her and held it up.

“Here’s mud in your eye.” He clinked his glass against hers.

As they ate, they spoke of other things apart from his dilemma and enjoyed the meal and each other’s company.

At one point, she picked up her can of grape soda, shook it, discovered it was empty and reached into the champagne bucket to get another soda when she felt his hand on hers; both of them had tried to grab the same can of soda, but she had gotten to it first.

“To the victor go the...” She had looked up at Xander to gloat over her minor triumph but stopped talking when she saw his face.

Chapter Text

Her brother was looking at her so intently, Delia felt like he was trying to stare through to the back of her head. She looked down; her hand was still in the ice, and it was getting cold.

He removed their hands from the ice and loosened her grip on the can making it fall back into the bucket but did not let go of her hand.

She frowned, not understanding what was happening.

He let himself smile. “Delia Thorn, do you know how pretty you are?”  

But she could do nothing but stare at him.

“Aaron likes you...a lot. I think it’s only the fact that you’re Damien’s daughter that has prevented him from asking you out. Thomas has probably put the fear of God into him about doing or saying anything to you that’s inappropriate. I know other guys who think you’re hot, and there are more than a few who would date you but are scared shitless Damien would publicly castrate them if they hurt you.”   

“I don’t care what they think.”

“Would you like to know what she looks like, the someone I like?”

“Okay.” Delia’s response was thick with uncertainty.

“She doesn’t have tacky blonde hair; she has dark brown hair that shines like brown silk. Her hair is short, which makes her look like Christopher Robin and one of those flapper girls at the same time. She’s constantly tucking her hair behind her left ear, which lately I’ve wanted to do for her. Her eyes are dark pools of melted chocolate. When she’s displeased, she frowns and while I know it means she’s unhappy with something, I’ve been having to stop myself from smiling whenever she does it because she looks cute.

“She’s the smartest individual I know. The most fun I ever have is when I’m with her and simply being with her, not doing anything. I’d spend every day of my life doing that if I could. I love cooking for her and the look on her face after she eats something that I’ve made for her…When she comes downstairs in the morning, my chest hurts, and I can’t breathe, and I want to kiss her. I am scared that she likes some boy, even though she says that she doesn’t, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t like me back. And just in case you haven’t figured it out, the someone I like is you.”

“You mean you like someone like me.”

He could hear and feel her confusion...and fear. “No, Delia. I like you.” 

And it was like a dam being opened and she was overwhelmed, not only with new feelings from her brother, but the release of energy that he had been using to keep those new feelings from spilling out on her.

She pulled her hand away. “We have to clean up.” She got up and the two of them began clearing away the dishes, hand washing them because they couldn’t go into the dishwasher. There was no food to put away, and once everything had been washed and dried, she stood in front of the hutch waiting to put away the glassware and the plates.

He took everything from her and put it all back and looked at his sister, who was staring vacantly into the cabinet.

“Delia?”

His voice was quiet. He fought the urge to reach out and touch her; he didn’t want to make her any more upset than she already was.

“Can we please go upstairs and talk? Even in the hallway if you don’t want to be alone with me in my room or yours. I don’t want to talk down here…in case Cecile comes back early. She probably won’t be but...”  

She looked at him. “Okay.” 

The two of them made their way to the foyer and walked up the stairs; the dogs followed behind, their apprehensive moods matching those of their Masters’.

She walked into her bedroom and stood at the door, inviting Xander and left the dogs outside. She continued to the back of her room and sat on the window seat, her legs drawn up to her chest and her left shoulder leaning against the glass as she gazed out into the woods behind their house.

He had not ventured past the bedroom door and watched her sit and turn away from him.

“I don’t know what happened, but I know when it happened: the pool party that Thomas threw for us when we came back from England a few weeks ago. It was fun, and before I knew who I was, it would have ranked it high on my list as something that was all that and a bag of chips. But all I kept thinking was that later on that night, when we got home and once Damien was asleep, we’d get dressed, go outside outback, and really have fun, just the two of us.

“And you were standing there in your green bikini. Aaron was standing next to you, and you were just...you…my sister. You walked back to the table and the next thing I knew...you had hips, Delia, and they swayed when you walked, side to side like a sexy pendulum. Your hair was like brown silk that shone in the sun...I wanted to touch it. You...jiggled when you moved. You sat down next to me and touched my arm and it felt like when you stick your tongue on the prongs of a battery.

“Aaron sat next to you, and he laughed at something you said and all I wanted to do was reach out with my mind and kill him where he sat. I’ve never been jealous of anyone, but at that moment I was jealous of Aaron because you were talking to him. You leaned across me to get my can of soda and…I…I glanced down your top. Aaron and Emily were dragging you towards the pool and you grabbed my arm and I refused to go. I couldn’t get up, you would have seen...I had to think of horrible things happening to Damien to make it go away, but it went away and all I wanted to do was go home, and I’ve never been happier to leave anywhere in my whole life than when father picked us up. I went upstairs to my room, and I thought about you in that green suit, with your hips, your hair, your jiggly bits, and that time, it wasn’t thinking that made it go away.  

“We ended up not going outside that night, but we hung out watching television and all I wanted to do was kiss you. That night in bed I figured...I know what it is that I like about you, I’ll simply find a girl who’s similar to you. I’m not ashamed of being attracted to you, but I don’t know...mainly, I can’t imagine you ever liking me back, so what was the point in hoping for something that was never going to happen? And that’s how I fell asleep, pinning my hopes on some non-existent girl on whom I could lavish my affections.

“I came down the next morning, but you were already downstairs and all you were doing was sitting on the floor playing with your dog while Cecile prepared breakfast. You looked up and you smiled, and all my big plans were gone. There you sat, in your t-shirt and shorts, smiling up at me with your shiny brown hair that makes you look a girl and a woman at the same time, and I knew I had been an idiot forever thinking that one of them could ever make me feel the way that you do. I’ve kept it to myself, Deedle, because what could I say? But something made me tell you and now I’ve upset you and I want to take it all back so we can go back to just being us.” 

Delia turned her head towards him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and again, he was torn. Normally, he would have gone over to her, but didn’t know what to do seeing as he was the cause of her discomfort. He had enough sense, however, to go to Delia’s bedside table, get her box of tissues and hand them to her. He then resumed his post by her door.

“Is that really how you feel?”  

He was trying to assess Delia, but she was too upset, as he was, and he couldn’t separate his feelings from her.

“Yes.” His stomach hurt and he was pretty sure that he was going to puke up the lunch that he had just eaten.

She sat there crying and had gone back to looking out the window. Her dog, who was laying out in the hallway, came in the room and made his way over to her, jumped up onto the window seat and began licking Delia’s face and eventually settled across from her, but he sat, keeping an eye on his Mistress.

She drew in a shaky breath, blew her nose and went into the bathroom and he heard the water running and soon she came out and he fought the urge to tell her that even with her red, puffy eyes she was prettier than any girl, but he had said enough already.

She stood near her desk, her arms folded across her chest. “I have to tell you something, but...” she put her hands over her eyes and her chest heaved as fresh tears came and she lifted her head. “But now you’re going to think…I lied.”

“About what?” 

“When I said that I didn’t like someone.” 

He had never been stabbed, but he had had the vision of Damien’s death not a few months ago and had stood in place of his father; it had woken him up screaming in agony.

But imagining Delia with a boy? That was fucking worse. Not only had he upset her and ruined their relationship, but now he’d have to watch her be with some boy and watch her kiss him...and touch him. He was too numb to be angry.

“Is it Aaron?”  

But she wouldn’t answer him.

“Who is it?” Fear engulfed him.

“It’s you.” She stood there, staring at her brother, tears running down her face.

He had misheard her, he had to have because it was not possible that she felt the same way about him that he felt about her...unless. “Don’t.” 

A flash of anger moved through her. “I knew it...I knew that’s what you’d think! Do you really believe that I would like you just because you’re going to be the Antichrist some day!?”

“I don’t know, but just don’t.”  

She went over to the window seat, grabbed a tissue, and blew her nose again. “I never understood when girls would talk about having a crush on some boy...not being able to breath, feeling your heart skip a beat, being weak in the knees...it always sounded to me like they were sick with something; how could someone ever make you feel like that?” She had stopped crying.

“Then, a couple of days after the pool party, you brought me down to the kitchen because we were going to make chicken pot pie together. I was cutting up the chicken, and you were doing the thing with the flour where you cook it with the butter…you must have touched your face at some point because the next time you turned to say something to me, you had flour on your face. I laughed and pointed it out to you, and you put your hand in the flour and then put your hand on my face and you said something.

“But what you said, I couldn’t hear because where you touched me, it felt like my skin was on fire. And I looked at you and everything went away but you...your lopsided grin, the flour on your face, your hair...polished mahogany, I just wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to reach over and kiss you, to feel my lips on yours, my body against yours. Then my chest was tight, and I couldn’t breathe and for a second, I thought that I was doing something to myself, hurting myself somehow, until I realized that I liked someone and that someone was you.

“I’m glad you told me. I wasn’t upset because I’m disgusted or bothered by you liking me.

When you first told me that you liked a girl, I was crushed; but you’re my brother and I love you, so if there was some girl who made you happy, then I would help you be happy. But then you said it was me...I was just overwhelmed and then terrified that if I told you that I liked you back that you would think what you thought that I was telling you that I liked you just to make you happy, which isn’t true. Father taught me better than that, not to do things just because of who you are, and I just wouldn’t do that. Please don’t take it back if it’s true that you like me, because nothing would make me happier than you like liking me the way that I like you.” She smiled at him.   

He could now feel what she had hidden. No doubt, as with him, it had been a strain keeping all of it to herself and he now purged himself of all his fear and reached out to his sister.

“Please tell me again...tell me again that you like me.”   

“I like you, Xander and not just as my brother. You are kind and sweet and generous and cute and handsome and you make my heart skip a beat when I see you; and you’re not the only one who has done things when they’ve been alone.” 

She sat on the bed, and he sat next to her. “I don’t care that you’re my sister.” 

“And I don’t care that you’re my brother. With few exceptions, same likes same, Xander, it’s the way of things. We’re the only two sames there are. Maybe if we had more choice, we’d choose others, but we don’t, so I’m very happy to have you and very happy that you feel the same way that I do. I’m not going to waste my time feeling guilty for things that people don’t understand. I don’t think that there’s a word for one of us being with one of them. That father took one for the team, so to speak, I’m grateful because we wouldn’t be here, but I don’t like any of them, I never will.” 

Her hair had come out from behind her ears and this time he let himself do what he had wanted to do for weeks: he reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear.

She giggled. “My eyes are pools of chocolate?” 

“Brown is not one of your more praised colors when it comes to wooing girls, but I’ll take brown hair and eyes to blonde hair and blue eyes any day. Polished mahogany, huh?” He broke out into laughter and soon the two of them were in a fit of hysterics.

She eventually shrugged. “What else am I supposed to say after I get that my hair is like silk? Plus, I thought that mahogany sounded masculine.” She put her arm inside his and leaned her head against his shoulder. “You and father aren’t the only ones who think that I look like Christopher Robin. I keep getting ‘can Pooh and Tigger come out to play?’ from Aaron’s sister and her friends whenever they see me. I think I might have to let it grow out a bit, but you are the only one who thinks I look like a flapper.”  

Both of them could feel the release of tension and knew it was not just them, as her dog was now curled up on the window seat, asleep.

“Delia, can I hold your hand?”

They turned towards each other, and she offered her right hand to her brother and the two of them pressed their palms together and slotted their fingers in between the spaces of the other’s fingers. They had held hands before, but this was different.

They looked at each other and gone were any feelings of doubt. Instead, they allowed themselves to be filled with desire and then each sent it out, letting the tendrils of their arousal encompass the other in unbridled, shameless want.

She looked down at the bed on which they were sitting, and she stood; Xander followed suit. Both knew that there was much to talk about, but now was not the time to do it; their minds and bodies wanted other things right now besides complicated conversation.

He took her other hand. “I’ve never kissed anybody before.” 

She laughed. “Liar, you’ve kissed me plenty of times; you’ve kissed Damien plenty of times.”

“Not the way I want to kiss you, the way I’m going to kiss you and please don’t let’s talk about father right now. What if I’m a bad kisser?” He looked at Delia in horror, suddenly understanding that he might turn her off with his lack of skills.

“Xander, you become a good kisser the same way you get to Carnegie Hall...” 

“Practice, practice, practice?” He raised a hopeful eyebrow at her.

“Very good.”  She smiled at him, and she looked him in the eyes, not breaking her gaze with him.

“What’s wrong?” He tried not to let panic fill his voice, but he didn’t do a very good job of it.

“Nothing. I’m about to have my first romantic kiss with the boy that I like; I want to remember it.”  

“Delia Thorn...so there are some things that you’re girly about, after all.” He tucked her hair behind her left ear again.

Each looked at the other, fixing in their minds whatever each thought was important about what was transpiring. Finally, Delia put her arms around Xander’s neck; he put his arms around Delia’s waist, and each pulled the other closer. She tilted her head to the left, he to the right and they brought their heads towards each other, and their mouths met, and time and the world dissolved into nothingness...

The kissing was gentle at first. Each was unsure of what they were doing and for him, he was worried about doing anything to his sister that felt like force. He had tried keeping his eyes open, but the feeling of her mouth on his was too much and he surrendered to the experience and closed his eyes.

Delia began pressing her lips against his mouth with more intensity than he was currently using on hers and she kept up the pressure, but he refused to return the hardness of her kiss, even after she sent a message that it was okay. She pulled her mouth away and looked at her brother, who still had his eyes closed and didn’t hide his disappointment at her stopping what she was doing.

“Xander, I love and trust you; I know you’re not going to hurt me. I’m not some delicate flower you’re going to crush if you’re...enthusiastic.” 

He had opened his eyes by this point.

She gave him a knowing smile that she had never before given to anyone. “We’re competitive with each other. We push each other to do more and to be better, so when I push, push back.”  

He met her words with his mouth; a mouth whose owner no longer wanted to hide the fact that he wanted to devour Delia and he let her know that his desire for her was unquenchable.

Her hands moved from around her brother’s neck to his lower back and she began backing them up towards her closed bedroom door. She turned, so that she would be the one against it, but she tripped, and she staggered back, bringing Xander with her, until she banged her head against the door.

“Are you okay?”  

“Don’t stop.” She pulled him closer to her and placed her mouth back on his, but he pulled away.

“But you hit your head.”  

The words had barely left his mouth when Delia fiercely pressed her lips against his and he knew she was fine and he allowed himself once more to be swept away in the tidal wave of pleasure, and as he kissed her, he understood.

They may not have done anything like this before, but they had not been raised with hang-ups about sex or taught to be afraid of their bodies; this was about experimenting, as far as Delia was willing to go. Later, they would make rules and boundaries about what could and couldn’t be done, but for this moment, he would do, and if she refused him, he would stop whatever it was that he was doing and move on to something else.

He pulled his mouth away from hers and began moving his mouth down her neck and he heard her make a noise that he had never heard her make before. Her hands went to his head, and she grasped a fistful of his hair and for one second, he thought that she was going to yank him away, but then realized that she had grabbed him in a state of erotic urgency.

“Xander,” she moaned and then laughed as what he was doing was also tickling her. She opened her eyes and watched his head nestled into her neck. “Whatever you do, don’t give me a hickey.”  

He kissed up the side of her neck and made his way back to her mouth, but he teased her, pulling away before his mouth landed on hers. He whispered into her ear, and nibbled her earlobe, which sent shivers down her spine.  

“Mmm, naughty talk. Shall I show you what kind of interesting words your sister knows? I know lots of them; I know those words, too.”

“I wonder what other ones we know that are the same.”

Both giggled now and he buried his face in Delia’s neck again.

“I know a word, Xander, that depending on how you use it can be very naughty.” 

“And what word is that?”

“Hard.”  

Full of worry, he regarded her. “Do you like the way it feels?”

“Very much.”  She bit her lower lip and the two of them looked at each other as she kept him  pressed against her. “That’s as far as I’m willing to go, for right now. I mean, I’d theoretically be okay in keeping doing what we’ve been doing up to this point, but not more than that, understand?”  

“I understand. I would have been happy with you holding my hand.”  A wicked smile sat on his face. “I’m glad, however that there was more.” He was suddenly filled with concern. “You didn’t do anything you didn’t want to do, did you? I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do?”  

“No, it was all consensual making-out and I’d be okay with us keeping the make-out session going, but Cecile is going to be back soon, and I think we need to talk about some things first. However, all the blood from our brains is currently being used elsewhere, so I think it might be better if we do something about that...on our own.” She reached out and tenderly kissed him on the lips. “You stay here, and I’ll go to your room, that will give us something to think about later, but I’ll do it on three conditions.” 

He made a noise that he hoped sounded like okay.

“I don’t know what you normally do, but if you want to stay here, then you have to take off all of your clothes. I’ll leave the door open between our rooms if you promise not to come and look...I’ll take my clothes off, too.”

“The third?”

She gave him a look that nearly melted him on the spot.

“I’ll say your name if you say mine.”

All he could do was nod in agreement to her request.

She opened her bedroom door for Milo to leave and then closed the door behind him. She then made her way to the door that separated their bedrooms. “Don’t get your genetic material all over my sheets.” She frowned, but it was meant to tease him, then she opened the door and entered his bedroom and as promised, she left the door open.

He tried not to think of Delia in there, not yet anyway. He smiled and began taking off his clothes... 

… 666...

He sat on her bed flipping through a sex manual while he waited for her to come back in. The manuals, she had more than one, were apparently a new addition to the stash of materials kept in the drawers under her bed. Both of their stuff was kept in her room; Delia was afforded more privacy since she was a girl, so the drawer was full of cherry bombs, firecrackers, cigarettes, and booze syphoned-off from the bottles in Damien’s liquor cabinet.

He looked over to the bookcase. He, like Delia, had books about where babies came from and changes to one’s body during puberty, but those books weren’t helpful for what they were now experiencing and she had apparently approached Anna and asked her to get the manuals, perhaps when her feelings for him had surfaced.

All three dogs were in the room when Delia finally returned. She threw herself on the bed, stomach first, and then reached over and petted her dog.

He looked at his sister and smiled. “I got bored and went snooping...good thing...three times...had to look in here to see what was up with that.” He held up the book.

Delia laughed. “And that was me being quick and foregoing what could have been at least two more times.” 

He shook his head. “I think I’m going to have to step up my game.” 

“I’ll say, Quick-Draw McGraw.” She smirked, sat up and reached over and kissed him on the cheek. “Next time when you’re alone, make yourself wait and when you’re ready, count to ten and then…”

“Pop myself like a bottle of warm champagne?”

“I was just going to say orgasm, but warm bottle of champagne sounds yummier.”  

He gazed into her eyes, and she smiled at him. He reached up and touched her cheek and her eyelids fluttered closed and she sighed. “Delia, how do we do this? All I want is you,” his voice was a whisper.

She opened her eyes. “I know. It was easier before. It’s like it fit into a tiny box; but now, it’s all too big to go back in. How do I take everything I feel and hide it?” 

“He’ll never believe that we can keep this a secret.” 

Delia snorted. “I’m not sure we can, either.”  

“Damien Thorn taught his children to be tricky and clever. Now we use it to our advantage.” 

“And hope that if he finds out he doesn’t beat us to within an inch of our lives for making a fool of him. Speaking of things father taught us...I used to have quite the temper when I was younger.” 

“Used to?”

She reached across and punched her brother in the arm. “Yes, used to. Do you remember everything I taught you when father was teaching me?” 

Damien had shown his daughter how to visualize her anger; how to make it small enough to fit inside of a box for only when she controlled her anger could she set it free to do her bidding. It had been unsuccessful at first, but when he had pestered Delia to show him what their father was teaching her, she had obliged him and in showing him, she had helped herself, which had, of course, been part of their father’s plan.

He closed his eyes and imagined his desire for Delia, and it didn’t take long until he could see it. “It’s green and it looks like a lumpy basketball.”

“Why green?” 

He smiled lasciviously at her. “Because that’s the color of your bikini, Junior.” As if in response to his lustful thoughts, the ball seemed to darken and get bigger. “What about you?” 

Delia closed her eyes. It was a ball of luminous brown, the color of her brother’s hair. It was the size of a softball and smooth and it spun furiously, wanting to take Delia and sweep her up in its turbulence. Learning to rein in her temper seemed like the simplest thing in the world compared to controlling her newfound, hormonally fueled desires.

“It’s in a box, Xander, and that box has a lock. That lock must never be opened when we are not in our rooms, it is that simple.” She opened her eyes and looked at her brother; he still had his eyes closed...all she wanted was his mouth on hers again. “Okay, maybe not that simple.” 

They knew they should keep practicing, but it wasn’t what either of them wanted right now. Xander leaned over and kissed her, and she reciprocated.

“I can’t kiss you while we’re on the bed.” 

“I know, it makes it harder to stop at just kissing.” He got up, extended his hand to her; she took it and stood. He started to lead them back to the door.

“Hang on.” She flopped stomach first back onto the bed and reached over for her alarm clock and set it to give them thirty minutes and then joined him. “When it goes off, we go downstairs.”  She leaned against the door and pulled him to her. “Not that kissing you right here doesn’t make me want to do more.”  

“I know the feeling.”

But he didn’t want to talk anymore, and he pressed his mouth firmly against Delia’s.

Xander’s warm mouth on hers made her knees buckle and what was quickly becoming a familiar sensation of butterflies fluttering in her stomach possessed her, and for the second time that day, everything else except for the both of them disappeared…

...666...

Two-thirty found them downstairs. He put some ice cream in a bowl for Delia and vanilla custard in a bowl for him and put fruit salad on both and brought them to the table. She had grabbed spoons and they now sat eating their snack.

Knowing now how much it pleased him, she complimented his culinary skills, since it had been he who had made the fruit salad. “It’s very yummy and yet somehow only the second-best tasting thing that’s touched my lips today.”  

“I’m glad you like it.” He put a spoonful of frozen custard in his mouth, and then looked at her. “We’re sure we’re doing this? Not telling him?”  

“You know as well as I do that he’d stop us. If I were him, I wouldn’t think that we could keep it a secret. There’s too much to lose if this comes out...we know that and that’s why we can’t ever do things outside of our rooms and for now, when he’s at home. That’s why we need to take things slowly so that we can get used to these new and very nice things we’re doing.” Delia tossed a grape to her dog.

“Can I ask you something?”  

She smiled at him. “You can ask me anything you want.”   

“Do you have pretty underclothes?” He was trying to control himself; to ask his sister the question without having that feeling in his gut and elsewhere.

“What do you mean by pretty?”  

“You know, like the girls in the magazines wear...lace and silk. Do you have things like that?”

Delia could do nothing but stare at her brother. She never would have pegged him as going in for all that frilly stuff, but she eventually shook her head. “No, but I don’t understand...you like those girls? I was under the impression that they left you cold.”  

He had told her how Ryan Parsons had given him some porn magazines and they hadn’t done a thing for him. Knowing who and what he was, he now understood why.

“No, they’re just women, but I like what they wear. Do you think you could buy some...you know...like a matching set of underthings?” 

“Really?”   

“Nothing fancy with weird stuff, just the bottom and top pieces that you could wear when we go back to school.”    

They’d be starting a new school in less than a week and already they knew that for most of their classes, they’d be separated, but it could usually be counted on that they would share a class or two. She thought about sitting in the classes they shared, in her frilly underthings with him sitting beside her, knowing what she was wearing under her uniform and a heat began in her stomach and spread up until she felt her face flush.

“You have no idea how much I like this side of you.” All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her.

“What side?”    

“This side, all vulnerable and soft...with the understanding, however, that you are completely capable of kicking my ass at a moment’s notice.” He was still a few inches shorter than she was, not to mention thinner.

“And don’t you forget it. Sometime this week, I’ll get Anna to take me to a real lingerie shop.”  She felt his worry. “She’s not going to suspect anything. When she first took me to buy my unmentionables, she asked me if I wanted frilly stuff, but I said no. She said that most women bought things like that for themselves anyway and that’s exactly what I’ll tell her.” 

“And you’ll wear them on the first day of school?” 

“I’ll have more than one pair and I can change into one when I come home from the store...if that’s what you’d like.” She smiled coyly at him.

“I very much like, and Deedle, this isn’t about trying to get you to do stuff. If there’s anything you want me to do, tell me; I want to make you happy.” 

“For now, you just keep making food; although, if I keep eating it, you’re going to end up with a fat sister.”   

“Just more of you to love, Sweetpea.”  

“You say that now...”  

“And you three.” He turned his attention to the dogs, who, realizing that they were being addressed, faced him. “Had better keep what you see and hear to yourselves, or it’s off to the glue factory with the lot of you.” 

“The glue factory is for horses.” 

“Then no more belly scratches.” He gave his dog a hard stare, but Milo wasn’t buying it and he came over and gave his Master’s face a sloppy lick. “I’m glad we all understand each other.”  

He began clearing away the dishes and Delia followed him to the kitchen. “How was the kissing?” He was busy loading plates and things into the dishwasher so he could use that as an excuse to not have to turn around to look at her.

Again, a blush rose up her face. “The kissing was very good.”  

“Was it perfect?” He put the last item into the dishwasher, stood up, closed the door, and looked hopefully at her.

“Xander, I’m afraid I have terrible news. Your kissing needs a lot of work and I gladly accept the burden of making you a better kisser.”

He smiled; she was flirting with him again.

“I liked that it was us; it was fun, but romantic and sexy at the same time. How was it for you?”  She too now was worried that she had been a less than acceptable kisser.

“It was way better than I imagined it. It was us. I was worried that it we’d be different, but it was just us doing something new and I really like that you’re naughty...and kind of a girly-girl about some things.”  

“Well, your sister is pleasantly surprised by the girly-girl part, but she’s always known that she was naughty and one day, she’ll show you exactly how naughty she can be.”  She winked at him and began pulling out the makings for the condiments that would be used with that night’s dinner.

It was while they were preparing dinner that they heard the front door; Cecile was home. Smiles flitted across their mouths as they regarded each other...how much their world had changed since she had been gone.

“Hello, you two.” Cecile put her bags on the counter.

“Did you have a good lunch?” Delia looked up from dicing her tomatoes.

“Very.”

Delia kept going with slicing, chopping, or dicing things and eventually stopped to watch her brother continue. Since he had come clean about his desire to cook, she liked watching him; it was like watching him dance to music that she couldn’t hear. Now it was different, now she wanted to watch him because she couldn’t get enough of him.

Once everything was cooking, Cecile left; Alexander would finish the meal and it wasn’t more than fifteen minutes after Cecile left that Damien’s dog got up and went to greet his Master at the door.

Chapter Text

Delia and Alexander turned and looked at the other. They hadn’t been worried with Cecile, but with their father home, this was real now; this would be their everyday lives. They had several options laid out before them, but as they stared at each other, they realized that they really didn’t have a choice. They wanted each other too much to call it off and they both knew that if they told Damien, he would do whatever was necessary to stop them. So, they looked away and each took the desire they had for the other and put it in a box; they would do whatever was necessary to keep being with each other.

They heard their father’s dog give a gentle bark and soon, he was leading his Master into the kitchen where Xander was preparing a snack for his father.

“Well, if it isn’t Christopher Robin and Tigger.”

“So, if we’re Christopher Robin and Tigger, who are you?” He continued to put together a plate of cheese, fruit, and crackers for him.

“In the car, my stomach was growling so loudly, the driver turned around and looked at me, so I guess that would make me Winnie-the-Pooh?” 

Delia began shaking with laughter.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t see you as Winnie-the-Pooh.”  

“Okay then, I’m the Big Bad Wolf.” He narrowed his eyes to slits and his voice contained a dark tone that both of his children knew was as dangerous as it sounded.

“D-man, if you’re the Big Bad Wolf, then I’m sure as shit not Tigger.” Xander handed the food to his father. “If you’re still hungry, I can make something else.” 

“And I’m not Christopher Robin. Xander told me I look like a flapper. Do you think so?” She put her hands on her thighs and began moving her legs, pretending to cross her knees dancing the Charleston.

He laughed. “He’s the perfect one to ask, he’s certainly old enough.”  

“He is not. Daddy, don’t you listen to him.” She handed her father a bottle of mineral water and kissed his cheek.

“I can still write you out of the will, son of mine. This is fine. I’ll be in the study. Call me when dinner’s ready.” Damien headed out of the kitchen.

“Sí.” 

“Is that a clue as to what we are having for dinner?” The kitchen door closed on Damien.

“Sí.” He raised his voice so he could be heard over the closed door.

They waited until they were certain that Damien was nowhere near the dining room door and then Delia turned to her brother.

“Why do I feel like I’ve just done the most horrible thing that I’ve ever done in my life?” She put her arms around her stomach, which was doing somersaults.

“Because we love him, and we rarely lie to him or not tell him things.” Xander was thinking of their exploits outside when their father was in bed asleep, which was, up to that point, the biggest secret that they kept from him. He stepped in front of Delia, and she looked at him. “I love you and I always want to do right by you, and I know that it’s especially difficult for you to disobey Damien. I want you to know that we can always stop, no questions asked, ever.”  

She frowned, teasing him. “But if we stop, who will see me in my matching pink lace and silk unmentionables?”  

His eyes closed at the thought of her sitting in class wearing her frilly underclothes.

“Just promise me that we’ll talk about things and not hide our thoughts and feelings about this, and we can do it. We’re Thorns, we can do anything.”

“I promise and damn straight.” He gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’ll go get our work and I’ll start my part and you can do yours while I clean up after dinner.”

“Sure.” He watched her take off out of the kitchen.

He was at the stove cooking the beef when she returned with their work, which she had stuffed into her knapsack.

Delia sat at the table, pulled out her notebook and got to work translating the work their father had given her.

...666...   

Nobody had had to come and get Damien for dinner.

“It smells delicious. Can I do anything?” 

“No, we’re good.” Delia grabbed cans of soda from the fridge for her and Xander. She had already decanted wine for their father.

“You just cop a squat at the kitchen table, daddy-o.” He was putting food into serving dishes.

Delia helped her brother bring the food to the table and once it was all there, they sat, and the Thorns began dinner, which consisted of shredded beef soft corn tacos with all fixings, Mexican bean salad, and corn bread with jalapeños. They ate and made small talk, but it was Damien who commented on dinner first.

“I don’t know what to say.”  He gave his stomach a few pats. “Getting old has already made me lose my girlish figure. Having a son and a cook who are as good as you both are, it’s eventually going to take a crane to get me out of my bed.”  

“It’s his plan, father. He’s going to feed us until we’re both too fat to leave the house and then he’s going to take over the business.” 

“What nonsense...more tacos?” With a devilish grin on his face, he pushed plates of food towards Damien.

“La comida es muy deliciosa, Annoying One.”  Delia wanted nothing more than to kiss him, or, at the very least, to let him feel exactly how appreciative she was of his meal. Instead, she kept as much as she could to herself...for now; they would be alone later.

“Estoy muy feliz de que te guste, Nag.” Like his sister, he kept most of what he was feeling to himself.

“Damien, I’d like to take you on up on an offer.”  

“Which offer is that?”   

“Well, we talked about me or Xander or both of us moving behind the Chapel, so I’d like to be the first one.”

“Of course. Is everything copacetic between you two?” Damien cast his eyes from one to the other.

“Yes, but I just want to be up there. I thought I could go first, test the waters as it were and then when and if Xander felt he was ready, he could join me, if he wanted.”  

“Sounds like a plan to me. Have you thought about what you want to do to the room?” 

“No, but I’ll call one of the interior designers at Thorn tomorrow; maybe we can have it done before we go back to school.”  

“It’ll just be us men on the second floor, now.”  

“We can leave our dirty jock straps and smelly socks all over the hall.” He clinked his glass with his father’s and then belched.

Delia could do nothing but shake her head and continue eating.

Once dinner was over, it had concluded with flan, Delia got to work cleaning up while Xander sat and got started on his work and when she was done, she sat at the table, joining her brother, which was where Damien found his children when he came in to refill his glass of wine. He checked on the progress they were making.

“I think I’m going to have to give you both harder assignments. I want an essay from each of you about what we did in England. It has to be more than six, single spaced pages. I want it from you in Latin.” He pointed at Delia. “I want it from you in Greek.” He pointed at his son and then took a drink of his wine.

They smiled at each other and then Xander turned to their father. “What if we don’t know how to say, ‘we stood on the bridge where two priests who thought they were so smart because they thought they had trapped the Antichrist, but the joke turned out to be on them because he killed them first’ in either Latin or Greek?”  

Damien had that smile on his face, the smile that only came when he thought about one thing. “Then I’ll help you. Delia, are you coming to work with me tomorrow?” 

“Nope, but I’ll come the day after...before we begin the slow march towards death...I mean going back to school.”  

“I know I haven’t spent much time with both of you this week, but we can try that new Thai restaurant for dinner tomorrow and I’m all yours this weekend...and Xander, I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Both younger Thorns returned to their work.

Delia went up to bed first, but eventually the whole house turned in for the night. Even Damien, who normally could be counted on to be awake until the wee hours, shut off his lights before midnight and was asleep not long after his head hit the pillow.

...666...

Delia’s watch alarm went off at one. Though just to be sure she was awake, her dog stuck his nose in her face, chuffing and nudging her until she sat up. She reached over and turned on the lamp on her bedside table. She went into her bathroom, peed, threw water on her face, and looked at her reflection.

Much had happened today, and she had hardly had any time to think about it. Delia put her hand up to her mouth and touched her lips. She could still feel Xander’s mouth on hers...how good it had felt and the things it had made her feel when he had touched her.

Deciding to move had been a spur of the moment thing. The door between their rooms was way too much of a temptation. Once they had a handle on what was going on, Xander would suggest that it was his turn and he would move upstairs where it would be only them...if that was the best way to keep their secret, secret.

And there was that horrible feeling in her gut again; she hated lying to her father. Apart from keeping minor things from him, like the excursions outside, she rarely kept things from him, but...her eyes went to her bedroom door. She had never known anything like the feeling of Xander’s hands on her body, his mouth on hers, how he had felt against her when he had gotten hard. Delia inhaled, shook her head, and got dressed in dark clothes and made her way to the door that separated their rooms. She listened, in case he was doing something besides sleeping, but there was only silence, so she made her way into his room.

When she reached his bed, she pulled down the covers and she felt a pang in her chest; he was more handsome than any boy could ever be, and all she wanted was to touch and kiss him, but for right now, there were other things to do, and Delia was suddenly gripped by worry. What if he didn’t want to do stuff like this anymore? He had said he liked her being girly; what if this wasn’t girly enough? She put her fears aside for now. They could talk once they got outside.

She gently shook him. “Xander, get up,” her voice was a harsh whisper in his ear.

“Delia?”   

She quickly clamped a hand over his mouth; he had been louder than was necessary. “No, the tooth-fairy. Come on, get dressed. It’s after one. I’ll wait in my room.”  

He sat up and watched as she made her way back to their shared door and just like that, she was gone.

He threw off his covers, went to the bathroom, pissed, and washed his hands. In his bedroom, he took off his pajamas and began rummaging for his dark clothes that he wore when they went out at night, but he stopped as his eyes landed on their door.  

She was behind the door, sitting on her bed and he wanted nothing more than to go in there and make love to her...though in reality, he knew he’d get as far as taking off her top and it would be game over.

He understood her decision to go upstairs, but he would have been the one to volunteer if they had discussed it first, but that was Delia. They would get things under control and then he’d see about moving up there. 

He got dressed and stood with his hand on the doorknob when he was suddenly seized with fear. He hadn’t expected that she would still want to go out. What if this was her way of telling him that she wanted to go back to the way things used to be? He shook his head and turned the knob and opened the door. Delia was sitting on her bed, and she got up and smiled at him; he didn’t know what he’d do if she had suddenly changed her mind. 

“Hey, Annoying One,” she whispered.

“Hey, Nag.”

He had been the first to make a move earlier, so Delia went first now and put her arms around her brother’s waist and pulled him to her and she felt him put his arms around her, and they kissed, attempting to keep the intensity of their feelings to a minimum. They let go of each other and as usual, made their way out using Delia’s door.

Both of their dogs followed. Xander’s Milo would wait in the kitchen until they came back, and they all moved out into the hall and anyone, including their father, would have been hard pressed to have heard anything.

Damien’s dog, who was dozing in the hall, spied them, and stood up.

The pair of them and the dogs were halfway down the stairs when the Thorns heard the chuff and looked back.

Neither of them could remember Damien’s dog wanting to go out, but he sensed that were shenanigans afoot and tonight for some reason, he didn’t want to be left out.

Delia looked at her dog, who nudged his Mistress’ leg, not wanting to give up going out. She did not break her stare with the dog, and he let out a sigh of resignation and went up and lay down in front of Damien’s closed door while their father’s dog joined them at the bottom of the stairs.

The four of them made their way to the kitchen and Delia could feel trepidation from her brother; she decided to wait until they were outside before saying anything. Once in the kitchen, Milo stopped at his water dish to get a drink and then settled under the table.  

With no noise, Xander opened up the back door and the three of them stepped into the night. It was warm. August was almost done, and the pair of them didn’t want to miss any chances to be outside. That being said, they rarely went out on the weekends; it was more likely that Damien would still be awake, so they tried to limit their adventures to the weekdays.

She inhaled the night air and Xander looked at her. He had been glad that they had not gone out that night after the pool party, he wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

“What is it?” She looked at him.

“I was scared that you changed your mind about us...you still want to come outside?” 

She smiled. “I was scared about that too. Why didn’t you think that I’d want to come outside?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I still like us doing other things together. When it comes down to it, I’m worried that things will change between us.”  

“I still want to come outside, let off cherry bombs and build blanket forts. Of course, if we build blanket forts when Damien is out of the house, we get to do new, naughty things inside of them.”  She leered at him.

Xander held up his right hand and spat in it; Delia spat in her right hand and the two of them grasped hands. “I promise, no more worrying about mind changing and I promise nothing else will change between us.” 

“I promise, no more worrying about mind changing, and I promise nothing else will be different between us.” One pump and Delia wiped her hand on Xander’s pants. “Was I too forward this afternoon?” 

“What do you mean?” He wiped his hand on his pants.

“Too...aggressive. I don’t know, don’t men usually like to be in charge? I just did what I wanted to do. And then I thought that maybe you didn’t want to come outside because you wanted me to be more of a girly-girl.”  

“My sister is perfect the way that she is. Deedle, I’m happy that you want to build blanket forts and come outside; it wouldn’t be very much fun just me and the dog. That being in charge crap...that’s them, not us. Jackals do things together, but I don’t know, can’t we take turns on who’s in charge and who decides what happens?” 

She smiled at him. “I’d like that.” 

As they made their way past the barn, a thought occurred to Xander that stopped him in his tracks. “This isn’t just us, is it?”  

“Does that bother you?”

The tone in her voice let him know that right from the get-go, it had done more than crossed Delia’s mind that there was more going on than just the two of them. “I don’t know how I feel about that.” 

“Xander, we’re at different places right now when it comes to the whole idea of acceptance, and I don’t know how to proceed without going against father’s wishes about letting you sort out certain out things on your own.” 

“I love you and I won’t use you, Delia, or hurt you, I don’t care what I’m supposed to do.”

“And I wouldn’t let you. Maybe, God wants us to be happy.”  

“How can we know that?”

“As always, we open ourselves up to Him. If I was meant to be just a plaything for you, do you think it would have mattered that we’re both attracted to each other?”

“Probably not.”  

“Then I don’t care. I liked what we did. A lot, and I want more. I’m not ashamed of sex, or afraid of you, or any part of your body. I want to explore you, and I want you to do the same with me. I want us to do whatever we want to do, whatever makes us happy. I want us to make love, eventually, and I want us to do all the fun things that will lead up to us having sex. Do you want those things, too?” She was nervous, hoping that she hadn’t scared him.

“More than anything.”  His voice was husky and raw with want of her. “I remember something you told me about jackals.”  

“Just one thing? I think we could sit and, at the drop of a hat, write an encyclopedia about what we know about jackals.” 

“They mate for life.”  

At that moment, the ache for him was so strong for him, in her heart, and other places, that it took all of her self-control not to have him, someway, right then and there. Delia closed her eyes and centered herself and when she opened them, he was smiling at her. “Yes, they do.”  

“Deedle, I think we need to do something that isn’t of a sexual nature.”  

She laughed. “I agree. I told father that I wasn’t coming into work with him because I figure we’d be getting back to the house just about the time he was getting up so vamonos.”

He sat on his haunches and reached out and pet his father’s Milo. “Okay, dog, here’s the skinny. We go and hang out with the coyotes, nothing more to it than that, really. We don’t chase them; we leave them alone and let them do their thing. We don’t tell D-man because he might not approve, so it’s yet another thing we keep to ourselves, okay?” 

The dog sat perfectly still, as if to show the youngest Thorn that he could be counted on to do what he was told.

As if on cue, the coyotes who inhabited the woods out behind their house howled and Delia and Xander turned their heads towards the direction of the sound. The last time they had come out, one of the females that they knew well, and had gotten pregnant, had brought her pups to them. All three made their way to the path towards the woods.

“I’m going to miss coming out here once school starts; it’s beautiful out here.”  

“Yes, it is.”  

“Okay, never mind all this romantic crap. Hurry up and tie your shoelace and let’s get going.”  She crossed her arms across her chest.

He had no more than put his head down to tie his shoe, which wasn’t undone, then she took off full tilt towards the woods.

Milo looked up at him and whined; he didn’t know whether to stay with his young Master or go after Delia.

“Let’s both go get her.”    

The dog reached her first and Xander eventually caught up with his sister as the moon led all three of them deeper into the night.

Chapter Text

Delia handed her brother his T-shirt and watched him pull it down over his head and adjust it so that it no longer looked like it had been hastily discarded while making out. She adjusted her own shirt and turned to look in the mirror to make sure she was presentable.

“So pretty,” he whispered, leaning over, and kissing her neck.

She was still surprised by how his touch, or his words, could create a fire in the pit of her stomach and spread out, sending flames through her veins until it flushed into her cheeks and other parts of her. Once they were dressed, they sat on his bed.

“I wish we only went to school half a day every day.” They had just finished, and she would have been happy starting all over again.

“Mm, I agree; though we couldn’t keep sending Cecile home at noon.” 

“We could do things up here even if she were here; she doesn’t come looking for us and we could make sure she didn’t come looking for us.”   

“Is that something you’d be interested in doing? No pressure, if not we can wait.”  

She nodded her head. “No, I definitely want to do things while she’s here. We did talk about doing things with Damien in the house when he’s not asleep, so I think it would be good practice.” 

Xander wished that it was eleven thirty again and that they had the whole afternoon laid out before them. He closed his eyes and moved his mouth in silent prayer.

“What are you thanking God for?”  

A few moments later he opened his eyes and regarded her, a smile on his mouth. “The usual.”  

She moved closer to him, placing her mouth on his. They kissed and her right hand moved up into his dark hair and her thumb found the three sixes hidden there and she smirked as he could do nothing but bury his face in her neck.

They had found out by accident that their marks were erogenous zones, and the first time that Delia had inadvertently touched Xander’s mark while they had been making out, it had brought him to his knees.

“And for many reasons, I’m grateful for my brother.” She kissed his cheek.

“Madame, we’d better get a move on, or we’re gonna be explaining to daddy dearest why dinner isn’t on the table when he comes home.” He stood up, put out his hand, and pulled Delia up off the bed.  

She stretched. “Right behind you, Chevalier.”

In the kitchen, the pair began taking out the ingredients for the night’s meal.

“What if he says no?”

“Why would he of all individuals say no?” 

Delia poured two glasses of soda and handed one to him. “Have you met our father? He doesn’t need a reason to make us work for something we want.”

“I guess. I’m not really worried about that. I’m more concerned with the discussion that he’ll want to have with me.”

She frowned. “What discussion is that?”

“I haven’t gone to him yet and told him that I’m interested in any girls and what those interests might entail.”

“And you can tell him you aren’t interested in any ‘girls.’” She batted her eyes at him.

“That’s some technicality there Deedle; I’m confused, which one of us is going to the lawyer?” He gave her a wink.

“If you really don’t feel like you can lie to him, then we don’t have to talk to him and just let things alone.” 

“I don’t want to do that, do you?”

She shook her head. “No, but if he does initiate a conversation with you where you are going to have to lie to him and you don’t want to do that, that’s more important than anything I want to do.”

“What we want to do, so I’m willing to take the hit.”

“I’ll be glad when we live on our own.” She went to the junk food cupboard and grabbed a couple bags of chips.

“Not that there aren’t a dozen reasons to be happy about being out on our own, but what in particular has got you so happy about it right now?”

“I’m very attracted to you while you’re cooking; you’re so happy and content. Hopefully, our kitchens will have sturdy counters.” She said it matter of factly, keeping all those warm, melty feelings to herself.

“I think I’m so happy in here because it makes Damien and you, but especially you, happy. And don’t you worry, those counters will be plenty sturdy.” Like his sister, he had kept what he was feeling to himself and carried on with preparing the night’s meal.

...666...  

Delia came from the bathroom to find her father sampling the butter chicken. She went to him and gave him a hug. “Good evening, Father. Still raining?”

“Yes, but April showers bring May flowers as they say.” He took a sip of the wine that Xander had poured for him. “Your brother tells me that there’s something you two would like to discuss over dinner?”

“Yes, please.” 

“Well, the quicker the food gets to the table, the quicker we can have our conversation.” Damien picked up the basket of warm naan bread and headed to the formal dining room.

“I’m no expert, but I think that means he’s hungry.” 

“Well played Inspector Poirot and I am too, so ándale.” She picked up the bowl of basmati rice and headed out to the dining room.

Once everyone had gotten through the first helping of everything, Damien turned to his children. “So?”   

Delia looked at Xander, who then reached under the table for his knapsack, unzipped it, pulled out a book and handed it to his father.

“Has this gone to school?” He looked from one to the other.

“We’re not that stupid. When I brought my knapsack down to do my homework, I just threw it in there.” He jutted his chin towards his knapsack.

Damien looked at the book again, Les 120 journées de Sodome, ou l'École du libertinage. “Where did you get this because it’s not one of my copies.”

“Anna. She bought this and the others. Is she in trouble?” Delia looked up at her father, who quickly shook his head.

“No. The agreement was that anything that either of you wanted that, so long as it wasn’t dangerous, you could get without asking me. I’d hardly call something written by the Marquis de Sade dangerous. I’m guessing that there is more involved in this than letting me know that literary wise you’ve caught up to your sister.”

“In the spring, a young individual’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of torture and killing.”

“So, may we?” Delia smiled hopefully at her father.

“Why?” 

“Why what why?”

“I told you…” Her response was sing-song as she took a drink of her ginger ale.

“Why, por qué, pourquoi, warum, dlaczego. Not to mention, that’s quite the one eighty, Xander. It’s been just a little over a year since you found out who you are and that you thought that you were one of them.”   

“Thank you, Damien Thorn, for being such a dick about it.” Xander put a forkful of butter chicken in his mouth.  

“Is there a particular reason why you want us to justify it?” 

“Because I’m the dad, and if I want you to explain to me why you want to do something, then that’s my business.” 

He eyed his father suspiciously. “So…all we have to do is justify why we want to do it and then we can do it?”  

Damien smiled at him as he helped himself to seconds. “I didn’t say that at all.”

...666...  

After dinner, Xander went to the study to have a talk with his father.  

“You haven’t come to me so far to tell me of any girl you’re interested in.”

“That’s because so far I’m not interested in any girl.” As Delia had suggested, he let himself think about the technicality of that statement.  

“How about sex?”  

“Why Damien Thorn, this is all so sudden.” He batted his eyes at his father.

“You know that you don’t have to have a girlfriend to have sex.” He sat beside his son. “We have women, none your age that I know of, but plenty of eighteen-year-olds. They’d be more than happy to bed you, if that’s what you wanted. They’re up for anything and they’re there for you, to please you, no questions asked, and you don’t have to reciprocate anything they do for you, if you don’t want. And in light of the recent request, if you want an unwilling victim, that will take some planning.” 

“So, I can rape someone without needing to justify it, but if I want to torture someone, I need to write an essay.” He shook his head. “I can’t wait until I’m the dad and can make up arbitrary rules for crap.”

“One of the few things about my own personal sexual experience that I have shared with both of you is the fact that the one-time archangel and now current demon that I was gifted for my first time isn’t something that either one of you can do since you were both birthed by a human. I’m not risking death or insanity so my children can have sex.”

“Way to be a kill joy. Sex with a woman must be a letdown after that.”

“Not necessarily. But that first time? Not something I’ll forget anytime soon.”

“Do you remember of any of the women you’ve had sex with?” 

“Only the one who gave me children.” He frowned. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“You look like you went somewhere for a second.”

“No, just…in case I didn’t make it clear, I haven’t done the deed, as it were, and as of yet, I don’t have any violent sexual wants or needs. The torture is for its own sake.”

“That’s fine. This isn’t about trying to make you feel bad because you haven’t had sex, though I would appreciate being kept in the know if you want that to change.”

“I will.”

“My door is always open, and you can come and talk to me about this anytime, particularly if it’s going to require you to force anyone to do anything. And I do want to know if there is a girl in which you are interested. I know quite a few who are interested in you, including Aaron’s sister, Emily. You can have both...a nice girl whom you date, or marry, who makes you look respectable and women who will let you do anything you want to them.”  

“I don’t know if I’m interested in any of it just yet, but it’s pretty great to be us.”  

Damien smirked. “Yes, it is, and I didn’t mean to bust your balls earlier.”

 “It’s okay, I’m tough, I can take it.” He got up off the couch and turned to his father. “So, I can send Delia in here for her frank discussion about whether or not she’s had sex?”

“Nice try. I can and do talk to my daughter about sex. Not my most favourite conversation to have, and I’m not going to pretend it isn’t awkward, but I do it.”

“I had to give it my best shot.”

“Yes, you did, and I still want a reason why the pair of you want to do what you want to do.”

“Okay.”

Xander went out to the kitchen to do his homework and a thought stopped him and he momentarily looked back at the study.

His father must be lonely. He had grown up with a sibling with whom he had always shared a special bond; he had never known what it was to truly be alone. Now he and Delia were close in a new way, a way in which Damien would never really understand because no human woman could ever satisfy that need to find someone like himself.

He continued on to the kitchen to get his work done so the three of them could spend time together…

In the end, the pair were honest with their father about what it was they wanted to accomplish out of torturing and killing someone.

Damien had listened and told them he would consider what they had said and left it at that.

...666...

It was the middle of May, one Friday morning, when each younger Thorn woke up to find a note saying that they wouldn’t be going to school that day, and that they should come downstairs dressed in clothes that they wouldn’t mind getting dirty.

Each had done what the note had asked and when they came downstairs, they found their father in the dining room having breakfast with a man they didn’t know.  

“Hello.” Xander gave the man a broad smile.

Delia gave him a curt nod of her head.  

“This is Arthur Maitland; he’s part of the R&D team at Thorn. Cecile isn’t here today, so help yourself to breakfast.” 

The younger Thorns stood in the kitchen getting their food not knowing what to make of the stranger in their home.

As the morning went on, Delia and Alexander didn’t understand why their father was making them spend the day in the company of the man. The four of them went for a walk around the grounds, all the time, the pair of them telling the stranger how much they liked school and the like. But worse than that, they had to listen to him ramble on about things that neither cared about.

It was past noon when they arrived back at the house.

“If you would like, father, I can prepare lunch.” 

Delia almost started laughing. Formal Xander was always funny because it was so unlike him.  

“Why don’t we hold off on lunch for right now. Incidentally, there are some items downstairs in the room for the both of you.”

They stood there, staring at their father.

“You have ten seconds to go look or all the new stuff goes back from where I got it.”  

Realization took ahold and the pair of them took off out of the family room. Moments later, there was a squeal of pure joy and anyone who heard it would have thought that Delia had found a secret passage to Disneyland.

There was the sound of pounding feet on the stairs and flush with excitement, the younger Thorns found their father.

“Is all that for us!?” She grabbed onto her father’s arm and bounced on the balls of her feet.

Xander, who had turned to the man sitting on the couch drinking coffee, grinned wickedly. “I think the better question to ask, Delia, is, is he for us?”  

Damien smiled at the man. “As fathers, it’s our job to guide and teach our children and to indulge their wants when we can and sometimes an opportunity arises where we get to do both.” 

By this time, the pair of them could scarce contain themselves. That both figured that vague sexual feelings would be par for the course, and it wouldn’t rouse suspicion from their father. The only thing they had to control was turning those feelings on each other.

“You see, Arthur, my children have expressed a desire to torture someone and by random happenstance, that someone is you.”  

By now the dogs had appeared in the family room, blocking both exits. The man was trapped.

“Wha...”

But Arthur never got a chance to finish as his face went slack and he just sat there.

Damien glanced at his dog, who left his post by the door and simply walked through the sitting room. The man got up and followed the dog downstairs.

“What happens now?” Xander’s voice sounded far away; mentally, he was already down there.

“Well, we go down and get the lay of the land, as it were. I can participate in this as much or as little as you both want. I can...” Damien’s voice trailed away as he looked at his children.

Delia frowned. “Oh.”

“What is it?”

Xander cleared his throat. “I think we both assumed this is something we’d do on our own.”

“Is it something you want to do on your own?”

They stood in silence, not wanting to answer the question truthfully.

“I’ll leave the house for a couple of hours and let the pair of you do you want. The only stipulation is that you wait to kill him until I come back. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Of course.”

They walked their father to the foyer, and he put on his coat.

“We’re sorry.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “There’s no reason to be sorry. This is new for all of us and unless you two really screw this up, it won’t be the last time something like this happens so there’ll be other opportunities for me to be there with you. And don’t even undo his restraints. If for some reason it goes pear shaped, or you freak out, have the Milos finish him in the basement.”

“We’ll take lots of notes and you can examine our handy work when you come back.” Delia gave him an enthusiastic nod.

“That’s the plan.”

“I don’t think you’re being a dick about things.”

“I hope not. If you need me back sooner, just let me know. Eat at some point. I love you both, have fun, and I will be back two hours from now.”

He left and they watched as the car pulled out onto the driveway, down to the road and he was gone.

“Deedle, we hurt his feelings by excluding him.” He turned to look at her.

“I know, but we have no clue what being down there will be like.”

“We just have to remember…don’t fuck up and we will find a way for him to be there next time.”

“For sure.”

But as they stood there, they began to think about the task that lay before them, and they allowed the thought of it to fan the embers of their wants and desires. Their dogs, seemingly impatient for their Masters, had come up to check on them and the twins followed them back to the door that led downstairs to the room. Neither felt like eating.

“I think we’re going to be breaking our no fooling around in anywhere but our bedrooms rule.” 

“I think we’re going to be breaking that rule before we actually do anything. Once we get started, if we find we need to do anything, we’ll step away. The thought of being intimate with you in front of one of them...” Xander shuddered.

She merely raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, they’re “them” now, are they?”

“Yeah, yeah, you and Damien, very funny. Why don’t you cut me slack, Nag.”

The dogs lay down beside the door; it would be left open and if they were needed, they would come down.  

“Alright, Madame, let’s go have some fun.”

“Right behind you, Chevalier.” 

Together, the pair of them headed down the stairs.

Chapter Text

Damien wasn’t sure what he’d come back to, but he didn’t think that it would be to the muffled sounds of shouting and swearing that he heard coming from downstairs. He had felt it before he heard it and for a second, thought that he was mistaken because except for a few squabbles, the pair of them never fought.

His dog had been waiting by the door, agitated; but his children’s Milos were standing in front of the closed door, whining and barking, unable to get to their Masters.

He opened the other door, and they there were, on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, each trying to protect themself and hit the other at the same time.   

“Stop it!” 

But they either hadn’t heard him, or chose to ignore him, and kept pummeling each other while using every swear word they knew.

Delia’s back was to him, so he got to her first and pulled her off the floor.

“Fuck off and let me go!”

“Monkey!”

She screeched and tried to break away to get to her brother, but Damien held her tighter. She laughed and jutted out her head and after nearly fourteen years of raising his daughter, he didn’t need to be told what was coming.

“Delia Thorn, if you spit at or on your brother you are going to regret it.” His tone was dark, and he sent a wave of disapproval her way.

She struggled in his grasp to get free, and Damien let her go. She stood there fuming, but she made no attempt to go after her brother.

“And if you call my daughter a monkey again, you’ll be oh so very sorry. The next one who lays a hand on the other is going to be grounded until they’re forty; do I make myself clear?” 

They both nodded and he went into the room.

The man was dead. Damien had to step around the blood to look at him. One of them, and he already knew which, had decided not to wait and had slit Arthur’s throat from ear to ear. Damien no sooner put a foot back into the other room, then they raised their arms, pointing to the other, ready to argue and defend themselves to their father, when he levelled a look at both his children that very few, if any, survived.

“Don’t you dare. I leave you alone to give you privacy and this is what I come back to? You two in a fight? And I don’t care why because there is no valid reason why you two should be at each other’s throats.” 

“We didn’t mean to kill him. It just kind of...happened,” Delia’s voice was a whisper.

“I’m not angry that you killed him; I’m angry that you two are using each other as punching bags. Accidents happen. You got excited and killed him? Fine, but that’s no reason to be going at each other. We had a discussion, Alexander, not all that long ago, about having a girlfriend. But apparently, you’re not even mature enough to settle a dispute with your sister without it resorting to violence.” 

“Yeah, if you’re mean to your girlfriend, she might not do things to you that you like.” 

“Give it a rest.” Damien reached out, grabbed his son’s shoulder, and spun him; unlike his sister, he was relatively blood free.  

“Delia, you stay here and take a shower. There’s a robe and some towels in the bathroom. Damien pointed to his son. “Upstairs.” 

“What about him?” She looked in the room.  

“That’s next on the agenda.” 

“May we please watch?” Xander pleaded.   

Damien turned to his daughter. “Shower. Bring your bloody clothes back out here and drop them on the pile of Arthur’s clothes.” 

She turned on her heels, ran to the bathroom, closed the door and seconds later, Damien heard the sound of running water.  

“Xander.”

Damien turned his back and his son’s clothes joined the ones that Arthur had been wearing. He waited until he was certain that Xander was upstairs, and he went to the study to call for people to come and clean up.

...666...  

It was five-fifteen when the van arrived at the house to take care of what needed to be taken care of. Showered and in fresh clothes, the twins watched as the five men began to clean up. After a bit, two of the men had wrapped him up and Delia and Xander followed their father outside to where the body was then dumped.

As always, the Milos got first dibs, and then whatever animals there were came and partook of the free meal. As usual, the cost of dinner was that there was little to nothing left of the person in question, and after an hour, the process was over, and everyone headed back to the house.

“Delia…”

“I’m still not talking to you.”

She then ran ahead and walked with their father.

Back in the room, as usual, it looked like nothing had happened. Whatever had been Arthur’s was taken away by the men. It was nearly eight when all three sat down for dinner.

Damien watched as his children picked at their food.

“There will be consequences for what happened. And just so we’re all on the same page, it’s not for killing him; it’s for turning on each other. First, neither one of you is going to the opening of the new exhibit at the museum next weekend.” 

Both younger Thorns opened their mouths to protest but thought better of it and continued moving food around on their plates.  

“No extracurricular activities for the next month unless they are school related and no allowance for the next month. On a scale of one to ten, how much did you like what you did?”

Despite whatever else was going on, huge smiles spread across both their mouths.

“Eleven.” For a moment, Xander was transported somewhere else.

“And you?” 

“Twelve.”  

“Glad to hear it. Next time this happens, I will be there, so you’d better find a way to deal with it.”

Delia frowned. “I thought you said that if we screwed up, we couldn’t do it again?” 

“When I said screw up, I meant things like untying him and chasing him through the house, bringing him to the Chapel...” 

“We wouldn’t be stupid enough to do any of that.” 

“Take him up to the Chapel? Ew.”  

“Since none of that happened, nothing that went on precludes it from happening again.”  

“Do you want to know?” Delia looked at her father.  

He made a concerted effort to soften his voice. “I already know. You didn’t want to wait until I came home to kill him. You either argued with Xander first or decided on your own to kill Arthur and then argued with your brother after. Yes?”

“Yes…to the last one.”  She stared down at her plate.   

“The killing I don’t care about, but this thing that’s happening between the two of you will be solved this weekend, or I step in and deal with it. Do you think you can be civil enough to each other to talk about what you did?” 

“Yes.”

Both had answered.  

“Xander, you go get all the notes.”  

He threw a glance at his sister then he headed downstairs.  

Damien turned to her. “He’s sorry for whatever happened.” 

“Was he sorry when he was yelling at me and calling me names?” 

“You had more than a few choice words to say to your brother; and he’s sorry now.”  

“Well, good for him.” She took a drink of her club soda.  

“Again, you have this weekend to straighten things out so use your time wisely.”  

When he returned, he did so with pens and two yellow pads that had bloody fingerprints all over them and he handed them to his father.  

They sat while their father read, occasionally jotting something down or underlining things. He eventually looked up. “Clean up and meet me in the study.” He took his glass of wine, the pads and pens and left his children at the table.  

“Are we going to talk about this, Delia?”  

“Talk about what? How you yelled at me? How you called me names? Is that what you want to talk about?”  

“You said things to me, too, you know.” But even as the words left his mouth, he realized that he had said the wrong thing.  

Delia got up, picked up her and her father’s dishes and put them on the kitchen counter.  

Xander picked up his things and followed her with both their dogs at his heels. He wiped down the kitchen table, and then began loading the dishes that she had rinsed into the dishwasher.  

He stopped. “Can we please fix this? I don’t want this to go to him because I don’t want him to find out about us.” He had said the last part quietly.  

“We can’t talk about this now. Let’s just clean up and go and see him.” 

“Okay.”  

When they were done in the kitchen, they joined their father in the study…

...666...  

It was five minutes to midnight when Xander heard the knock at the bedroom door and Delia came in, closing the door behind her.

“Hi.” She stood there, feeling weird and uncomfortable.  

“It was all my fault. When you killed him, I freaked out because I thought that not waiting until Damien came back would mean that we wouldn’t ever be able to do it again.” 

“Yes, I remember.” She glared at him.  

“The point was, I never should have gotten angry with you because I don’t care if we ever do it again if we fight with each other because of it.”  

She closed her eyes. “Maybe we can’t do this.”  

“What do you mean?” Fear gripped him. 

“The fight down there...we’ve never fought like that before and I never want to do it again. Maybe it’s this; maybe it’s us. Maybe it’s not possible for us to...be with each other. Maybe we should go back to just being brother and sister.” But even as she said it, she could feel her heart break.  

He was silent for a moment. “I’ll abide by whatever decision you want, but we’ve always been more to each other than siblings, so I’m not sure what you’re asking to go back to...to being less than we were before we started doing things?” 

“I can’t think right now, I’m tired. I’m going to bed; we can talk later.”  

“I love you, always and forever.”   

“Forever and always, Xander.” She smiled at him and left.

He waited until he was sure she was in her room and then Xander let grief well up in him. He didn’t know what he would do if she decided that they shouldn’t be together anymore. He didn’t know how he would live in the same house with her and not be able to be with her; in comparison to that, pretending that they were just brother and sister was the easiest thing in the world. He knew under different circumstances, he’d go and talk to his father, but that was impossible now.  

He changed into his pajamas and got into bed and reached over and shut off his bedside table lamp. Milo, sensing his sadness, snuggled closer to him.

It was dark, cool, and quiet and at any other time, given the expenditure of emotion and energy with the torture, he’d have pulled his covers over his head and would have been dead to the world.

Now, all he could do was think of his sister, of all the things that they had done since they had been together as a couple and the thought that he’d never bury his face in her strawberry scented hair or hold her close to him...he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from crying. He rolled over so that he was staring his dog in his face.

“I know.” Xander reached out and stroked Milo’s head after he had let out a whine. He closed his eyes again, but he knew that there would be little, if any, sleep tonight.  

...666...

Delia rolled over and looked at her alarm clock: it was five fifty-eight, a half an hour later than the last time she had jerked awake and looked at her clock. It took only moments of her being conscious until the numbers went blurry and hot tears began to spill down her cheeks and she stifled the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her.  

She hadn’t gotten much sleep and had spent the early morning hours tossing and turning. Whenever she was awake, she thought about what she had said about wanting to end her and Xander’s budding romantic relationship and that created an ache in her heart that felt like it was in a vice, and she would start crying.  

But this time, it hadn’t been grief that woke her, but a growling stomach. She had eaten very little in the previous twenty-four hours. Her dog, who hadn’t gotten much sleep either, followed her.  

She opened the door, put a foot out into the darkness and wondered why the world seemed to be topsy-turvy when she landed with a thud on the carpeted floor.   

“Delia!” His voice was a harsh whisper in the darkness.

She sat up and rubbed her left elbow; it had skidded on the rug, making it burn.  

“Are you okay?”   

“What are doing here?” 

“I slept outside your room. I...I wanted to be with you but, I didn’t want to go into your room without your say-so, so this was the next best thing.”

It was then that she noticed a blanket and pillow. “Oh, Xander.” She looked at him. He had sat next to her, and she reached out and touched his face.

“Is it too early to talk?” 

Delia smiled. “No.” 

He got up, held out his hand and helped her up. He smiled at her, and it was taking all of his control not to kiss her. “You’re hungry.”  

“That’s where I was going when I tripped over you.” 

“Can I make us something?” 

“I’d like that.”  

“I’ll be back.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

She smiled at him again; he melted inside, and he left to go make them something to eat...

When he returned, they quickly ate, both being hungry from their lack of dinner. Once they had eaten, he put the tray on her desk and he came back to her, joining her on the bed.  

“You go first.” She nodded at her brother.

“I stick to what I said earlier. If you want us to be over, then okay. I don’t want that, but I’m afraid to tell you how much because I don’t want it to sound like I’m trying to manipulate you into doing something that you don’t want to do.”   

“That won’t happen. Tell me how you feel and what you want.” 

“I want you; I want us. Now that we’ve done what we’ve done, I don’t want to go back to doing nothing. I can’t imagine living here now and not being with you. I can pretend I’m just your brother when I’m with Damien and everyone else, but I don’t want to pretend I’m not your boyfriend when I’m alone. I don’t know how we break-up and not have it affect our sibling relationship. But if that’s what you want, then that’s what I’ll do. All couples have problems; okay so we’ve had our first big problem, not only as siblings, but as boyfriend and girlfriend. We need more help with balancing the two than we first thought, but we’re Thorns, we can do anything.”  

She looked him in the eyes; those perfect blue eyes that made her burn when he looked at her and she wanted him more than she wanted the air she breathed. “I don’t want us to stop.”  

He moved closer to her and held her and when she put her arms around him, the world was right. He pulled away and looked at her. “Then we don’t have to stop.”     

She reached out and touched his chest. “I’m sorry.” 

“If you don’t want to run Thorn, you can be a boxer.” He smiled at her.  

She lifted up his pajama top, kissed where his heart was, and then looked up at him. “Better?” 

He pulled her to him, and his mouth met hers…he could stay here forever.  

Eventually she pulled her mouth away from his. “Xander, I want to do more, but I’m so tired and after eating I...” 

“You don’t ever have to explain why you don’t want to do something.”  

They got up and she took his hand and led him to her door. “You’re tired, too.”  

She was right, he could barely keep his eyes open. “I want to stay here.” He reached out and touched her hair.  

“I want you to stay, but I’m worried he’ll come looking for us. Later, I promise.” But she crossed his heart instead of her own and when they kissed again, Delia suddenly felt like she could sleep for a week.  

He let himself out, picked up his pillow and blanket and headed back to his room. Once there he put everything back on his bed, crawled under the blanket and was asleep in minutes.  

...666...  

They spent the morning together, just being with each other, which also helped make it look like they had put in significant time fixing what had happened between them. They brought lunch to the study, complete with a tablecloth and a vase with some fake flowers, which was set up on the coffee table.

“Delivery in my own house. Very nice. I’d give you a tip…”

Xander snorted. “If it’s don’t yellow snow, you’ve given that to me before, so you can keep it.”

“I see the pair of you are in better moods, which I’m glad to see. Turns out, I don’t like seeing my children fight with each other.”  

“We’re sorry it happened at all.” Delia sat.

“And we promise it won’t happen again.”

“I hope not.”

Xander had made soup and sandwiches, which were consumed under better circumstances than the previous night’s meal had been. After everything had been eaten, everyone but Delia relaxed with their dessert.

“Are you disappointed with me?” She looked her father in the eye.

“Not even remotely. I’m not saying that there isn’t something that you could do to disappointment, but this isn’t it. You’re a pup figuring out what she does and doesn’t like. It’s all experimentation and that’s fine.”

“We’re sorry we were selfish.”

“Xander, it wasn’t selfish. It was a choice, and it didn’t go as planned.”

He smiled at his father. “You really did want to be there.”

“Of course. What I said to Arthur was the truth. A father guides his children. It was an important step for you both. We’re learning as we go. Let me ask you both this: you spent some time with him before you tortured and killed him. Think you could do something like that to Cecile or Thomas?”

Both Thorn siblings sat with horrified expressions on their faces.   

Damien quickly shook his head. “It’s not a test to see if you could torture Cecile to death. I’m not yet expecting you to be able to do that someone you’ve known your whole lives.”  

“You could, though, couldn’t you?”

He looked at his son. “Yes. Though since I’m not quite ready to give up her cooking, she’s not going to be killed anytime soon...unless it was necessary.”   

“Good, because I don’t think I’m quite ready to drop out of school to become the full-time cook for our family.”  

Damien laughed. “And I don’t want you to do that.”

Lunch was finished, and Damien returned to his desk, and sat back in his chair with his cup of coffee.

“Very good, as usual.”

“Thank you.” Xander tipped an imaginary hat to his father.

“After dinner we can watch a movie, spend some time together. Before then, is there anything else?”

Both Thorn children shook their heads.

“Then be free, little ravens.”

They left their father to read, and they brought all the dishes to the kitchen and tidied.

“Crisis averted.” Delia let out a heavy, pent-up breath, and leaned against the counter.

“Thankfully.” He stood in front of her. “You know, we haven’t had a chance to talk about what we did.” 

“Pourquoi, Chevalier? What deliciously naughty thing did we do? I’ve forgotten.” She pouted.

“Then, Madame, maybe we need to go out to the stables so we can remind each other. I’m kinda fuzzy, too.” 

“What will you do to me while we discuss what we did?” 

“You’ll see.” He paused. “I was jealous.”  

“Why?” 

“You did it without me. When I saw all the blood...what if you wanted to do things like that without me?”

“Xander...I wouldn’t...I waited for you to know who you are and hoped that you’d be curious, like I was. Now, we’re tied, two each.” 

He laughed. “Are we keeping score?” 

“Yes.” She moved in close to him, whispering, “Whoever gets out there gets to be on top first.”  She turned and took off out the back door.

Xander smiled; he had no desire to beat his sister out to the stables, and as he watched her, he reaffirmed to himself what he should have been smart enough to remember. If Delia wanted to do something, then they’d do it. If Delia wanted something, then she would have it. If Delia went ahead and did something rash like she had done with Arthur, then he would tell her how he was glad that she had done it.

He grabbed chips, cans of soda, and a plastic bag to put it all in. His dog had come to find him, hoping for some quality time with his Master.

“Not right now. Before dinner. I promise.”

He had turned around to look at his Milo, who locked eyes with him, making sure he knew that he would be held to that.

For now, he and Delia did things with their underclothes on, though, he was trying to work out how to negotiate the removal of her bra. He added a package of cookies to the bag and serviettes, and before she could start nagging about what was taking him so long, he took off to join her.

Chapter Text

The cafeteria was crowded as Delia made way to her and Xander’s usual spot. The windows looked out over the garden and in the spring the view could be quite pretty; but it was November and all the flowers in the garden were gone, and the only colour consisted of the few leaves that desperately hung on to the branches on which they sat. She took out her lunch, but she would wait for her brother to show up before she ate.  

Both she and Xander brought their own lunches to school. While the food served here seemed to be fine with most of the others, she thought it was inedible. She spotted him making his way towards her, but he wasn’t alone. When he eventually got to the table, he was accompanied by a boy whom she had never seen.  

“This is Miles Spenser. Carter asked if I would shepherd the boy around and help make him feel at home in his new school; Miles, this is my sister, Delia.”

Miles extended his hand out to Delia, who shook it. “Hello.”  

She smiled. “You’re English.”  

“Yes, but my family is originally from here. My parents moved to England for my father’s job, and I was born there. Neither one of my parents managed to pick up an accent, nor did my brother, so I stick out like a bit of a sore thumb at home.” Miles spotted Delia’s lunch. “I didn’t bring anything to eat. Any recommendation from the cafeteria?”  

She laughed. “I recommend that you bring your own lunch. The food here isn’t very good. Surprising, really, when you think about how much money they extort out of parents to send their kids here. If you have to eat something, I’d go with junk food…burgers, fries. Not that it’s any better than whatever else they have, but at least you know what you’re getting.” 

“Thank-you for the advice. I’ll be back.”  

She watched as he left. “Anything going on there?” She jutted out her chin in Miles’s direction and looked back to her brother, who had taken a seat.

“Nope, he’s neither smart, nor interesting. I’m trying to think of someone onto whom I can foist him. I don’t want to be stuck with him as my ‘friend’ until the end of the year.” 

“I saw you chatting up Jeannette Lawson in the hall today. Is she the one?”  

“I think so. She’s nice, quiet and wouldn’t be expecting a lot. I’d be able to get away with hand holding and kissing.”   

She leaned in closer. “You’re only fifteen. Nobody is expecting you to be some kind of lothario.” 

“I don’t want to be a lothario, but I do want to create a reputation for being a normal guy. This is a good first girlfriend, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”  

She noticed Miles making his way back to them. “We’ll talk later?”

“Of course.”

He sat and once he was settled, Miles picked up his burger and took a bite.  

“Bon appétit.” Xander smiled at him and began laughing; the look on Miles’ face resembled someone who had bitten down on a used condom.

“Told you. Really, bring your own lunch.” She took a bite of her sandwich and had closed her eyes to savor it…roasted vegetables and chicken breast with Swiss, toasted, on sourdough bread drizzled with garlic infused olive oil…swallowing it seemed such a waste, but she did and opened her eyes and looked at her brother. “It’s yummy, Xander, thank-you.”  

Miles turned to look at Alexander and gave him a puzzled look.  

“Our housekeeper is a Cordon-Bleu trained chef, so she’s been teaching me how to cook for the past few years.” 

“He’s very good at it. If he doesn’t want to go into the family business, he can open his own restaurant.”  

Miles paused for a minute and the twins could watch the decision the boy was making play out on his face, and he broke his own silence.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but Damien Thorn, he’s your father.” 

“Yes.”  

While the pair of them tried to look nonchalant as possible in response to Miles’ enquiry, inside they had had their proverbial hackles up, wary of this new individual who had an interest in their family and especially their father.

“Mr. Thorn was Ambassador to Great Britain while my family was there…not me; I was born after your father had already stepped down. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I heard someone call your brother by his last name and I put two and two together. Over the years, I’ve heard a lot about your father from my brother, who is quite a few years older than I am. He used to be a part of Damien’s youth initiative.”

But the boy’s comment had only served to further pique their interest. What had Daniel told his little brother about Damien Thorn? She let her brother handle the questions, since he was better at it than she was.

“Does your brother live in Chicago?” 

“Yes, we all moved back here when my father died. Daniel’s a lawyer and came over first to take care of things after our father passed away.” 

“I’m so sorry to hear about your father.” 

Xander had smiled kindly at Miles, even though Delia could feel the emptiness behind her brother’s gesture.  

Lunch progressed with Miles doing most of the talking. First, it didn’t take long for her to assess that he knew little about Damien, but she kept sensing excitement and fascination from him whenever the conversation turned to the topic of her father.

Second, her brother’s people skills were in top form as the conversation gradually moved away from talking about Damien, to getting Miles to reveal personal information about himself.

When everyone had eaten, the boy excused himself saying that it had been a pleasure meeting them both, which left brother and sister alone.

“Okay, so what do we do?” 

“Wait, I guess. Hopefully, he’ll come back with some kind of useful information from his brother which will help us decide what we should do. It means I can’t dump him on anyone else just yet. We’ll eat with him again tomorrow…if that’s okay with you.” 

“Xander, this is family business. It’s not what I want, it’s what’s most helpful and since we don’t know what his brother is going to say, best to err on the side of caution and be nice until it’s no longer necessary. Should we tell Damien?” 

“No, we wait to see what his brother says, then we decide what we tell the old man.” 

“Offer to provide lunch tomorrow. Too bad it’s too cold to eat outside; we could have had a picnic.” 

“Will do. Walk with me to the doors?” Xander got up and no sooner had he gotten up than Jeanette Lawson spotted him from across the cafeteria and waved at him and he waved back.  

At the doors of the cafeteria, they parted ways and would not see each other again until it was time to go home.  

...666...

The next day, as promised, Xander provided lunch for everyone and beat Delia to their spot in the cafeteria. A tablecloth graced the table and he had even provided flowers and a vase. He pulled out Delia’s chair for her and when everyone was seated, he put out lunch which began with pâté on Paris toasts. Miles didn’t know what to make of the lunchtime feast, though it was too tasty to make any kind of serious objection to the extravagance.

“When your brother offered to bring lunch…” 

She laughed. “It’s not the first time he’s done this. In the beginning, most of the guys laughed at him…until they ate it and realized that it was better than the crap served here. Now, they just stand, drool, and hope he asks them to sit and join him.”  

Apart from the pâté, Xander had brought marinated vegetable salad, beef stew with fresh bread. He had also included soda, which had been kept in the cafeteria’s fridge, along with the other food.

As they ate, she wanted nothing more than to ask Miles what his brother had said to him, but she left it to her brother to know when to bring it up.

 Miles was stuffed…until Xander brought out three pieces of chocolate cake.

“The meal was me, but the cake, that was Cecile.” He handed out forks and once Miles was halfway through his cake, he turned to Delia.

“Miles had said he was saving what he wanted to say until we were both here; so here we both are. What did your brother have to tell you?” Xander smiled reassuringly at him.

“Daniel didn’t tell me much; he was enigmatic, which is very unlike him, but he was very happy that I was talking to you. Daniel said that he once did something for Mr. Thorn while they both were in England and that you should pass that on to Damien and he would know what it meant. Also, if Mr. Thorn ever needed any help again, he should talk to Daniel.” Miles looked from one Thorn sibling to another, hoping for some kind of illumination on the subject, but the twins merely shrugged.

Once lunch was finished, Miles thanked Alexander for the meal.

“Don’t mention it. Wait, do you want to come over to our house after school? You can tell our father yourself…you know, what your brother said. Delia, I don’t think it’s one of father’s late nights at work, is it?”  

She shrugged. “Not that I know of, and he didn’t say anything this morning. Meet us out in front of the school and you can come home with us, and we’ll drive you home after.”  

The boy’s excitement swirled around him like bright ribbons, and he promised to be waiting for them outside in front of the school once the final bell rang and went off to his class.

The twins looked at each other and made their way to one of only two classes that they had together, philosophy. It was still early and nobody else was in the classroom and so they took up their normal spot at the back of the room. He sat on his desk.  

“I’m feeling more than a little useless; some children of Damien Thorn we turned out to be. Shouldn’t we be able to do something about this ourselves?” He looked imploringly at his sister.  

“Well, if you don’t have any idea what we could do on our own, what do you expect me to do?” She smiled at him. “This is better. We’ll give Miles to father as a late birthday present. What do you get the Antichrist who has everything?”

“Another disciple. I once did something for your father. Are you fucking kidding me?” He began laughing.

“Why? What did Daniel do for Damien?”   

Xander, who had glanced at the door to make sure that no one was coming in during their conversation, turned back to his sister. “You know what Daniel’s talking...” but once he saw the look on his sister’s face, he understood the game that she was initiating, and it would be up to him to make the next move. For now, he got off his desk and sat in his seat.

“Too bad we’re in school right now, Delia.” 

“I’m holding you to that later.” 

The rest of the day dragged on…more so than it normally did considering that they were extra anxious to get home. When the final bell of the day rang, the Thorns went to their respective lockers to get their things and went to meet Miles.

As she made her way to the front of the school, she realized that she was finding the process exciting, humbling, not to mention arousing. Damien gave both her and Xander so much, it felt gratifying to be able to give back to him for a change. But there was also a sense of completeness, of fulfilling a deep-seated duty to God, of doing something to make Satan’s grasp on the human race slightly more secure than it had been, and even one disciple for their side meant one less for them, which was making her feel more than a little turned on.

She spotted her brother at the bottom of the stairs: she didn’t have to ask if the arousal part was the same for him. With a smirk, she sent those warm and less than subtle feelings his way.

They made their way out to the street just as a car pulled up and Thomas got out.

“Afternoon…who’s this?” 

Xander looked at him. “This is Miles; he’s new. Miles, this is Thomas; he works for our father.”

He smiled at the boy, but then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, walked away from them to give himself some privacy. After a few minutes, he returned, opened the car door, and all the young people piled into the back, while he took his seat behind the wheel and began the drive to the Thorn residence...

At home, the three teens made their way to the kitchen where Cecile was preparing the evening meal, lasagna. She turned around when she heard voices and was surprised to find a boy whom she did not know.  

“Miles, this is Cecile; Cecile, this is Miles, the most recent recipient of, and convert to, your culinary genius.” He began rummaging through the fridge, intent on fixing a snack for everyone.  

“The cake was very good…thank-you.”  

Cecile smiled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Both Milos arrived in the kitchen to greet their respective Masters. Delia sat on the floor as her dog padded over to her.

Miles looked down at the dogs and back to Delia.  

“You’re not afraid, are you? I can send them back upstairs. If not, you can pet them, they’re fine.”

Miles sat beside Delia, and her dog turned to him and allowed itself to be touched by the strange boy.

“What’s his name?” 

She smiled. “They all answer to Milo, but they know to whom they belong. Don’t you, Milo?”

Delia’s dog nuzzled her shoulder.

The snack consisted of sandwiches, cut up peppers, carrots, and cauliflower with dip, bags of chips, and soda, and Xander put everything on the table, while they ate, the three of them talked. Once the snacks were finished, they made their way to the stables…

An hour after the Thorn children had arrived home, Damien let himself in and made his way into the kitchen.

“Good evening, Cecile.” He washed his hands in the sink, drying them a clean dish towel.

“Good evening, Damien. You are never going to believe this, but Delia has brought a boy home. They’re outside.” She pointed in the direction of the stables.  

“Yes, Thomas called me. I’ll have to see him with my own eyes to believe it.” He picked up the pile of mail and began going through it.

The kitchen was spotless, and Cecile wiped her hands on her apron. “Is there anything else, Mr. Thorn?” 

“No. Thank-you.”  

She took off her apron and went to the closet and grabbed her bag. Damien walked her to the front door and helped her on with her coat.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Good night.” 

“Safe drive home, Cecile.”

He closed and locked the door behind her and went back into the kitchen. He helped himself to the extra sandwich that Xander had made and put it on a plate and added some chips, grabbed a beer and the stack of mail, and sat at the kitchen table and began opening it. He was halfway through it all when he heard laughing and barking and he got up and went to the window and watched as his children and a boy took their time getting back to the house, pushing, and shoving each other with the dogs at their heels. 

Delia looked up and saw her father and ran towards the house. Damien opened the door, and she threw herself into his arms.

“How was work?”  

He kissed her on the forehead. “Fun…as usual. Xandman, how did lunch go?” 

“Very well, danke. In fact, it went over so well, I brought the recipient home so he could thank Cecile in person for the cake.”

Miles was rooted to the spot.

Xander went over to him and brought the boy forward. “It’s okay, he doesn’t bite. This is Miles; he’s new at school and he wanted to meet you, so we thought we’d bring him home. Miles, this is the man, the myth, the legend, Damien Thorn.”

“Alexander. Nice to meet you, Miles.” Damien extended his hand and Miles shook it, looking up at him, little able to contain his awe.  

“Hello, Mr. Thorn.” Miles pulled away his hand afraid that the handshake had gone on too long. “Your children have been very kind to me since I started at Davenport Preparatory.”  

“Glad to hear it. Are you new to Chicago?” 

Miles went into his spiel about his family being from here but moving to England for his father’s work. As he spoke, Damien knew something was going on, but couldn’t figure out what that something was because his children were being deliberately unhelpful. He could feel excitement and nervousness from Miles, but it wasn’t anything that could help him figure out what was happening.

“My family was there when you were Ambassador to Great Britain. I wasn’t born yet, but my older brother told me about you. Daniel was part of your youth initiative, though I don’t think he ever met you, not personally anyway; he’s going to be jealous.”  

Damien smiled, still unsure as to what was going on.  

“Miles, why don’t you tell my father exactly what your brother told you.” Xander nodded at the boy.

“Daniel said, ‘I once did something for Mr. Thorn while we were in England and if he ever needs anything again, all Mr. Thorn has to do is ask.’ Though he didn’t mention what that something was.”  

All the time while Miles was speaking, Neither Delia nor Xander had not taken their eyes off of him and the sliest of smiles licked the corners of their mouths and Damien understood. This wasn’t some random boy whom they had chosen to befriend. Miles unknowingly relating how his brother had killed for the Antichrist had given them an idea: if older brother had given himself to Damien, could little brother be far behind?   

There were his children, each on either side of Miles, offering him a potential disciple; and there was Miles, ignorantly unaware that he had been delivered by Delia and Xander unto their father, a virgin sacrifice being brought before a god.  

“We told Miles that we would drive him home when he’s done here; I hope that was okay?” She looked at her father.

“Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

“No, thank-you, Mr. Thorn.” 

“Please, call me Damien.” He gave Miles a reassuring smile.  

“Did you want to go home now?” Xander turned to Miles.  

“I’d like to stay a while longer, if that’s okay with you, Mr. Thorn?”

Miles was still too overwhelmed to call Damien by his first name.

“Of course. Why don’t you two take him downstairs...play pool, or video games.”

“Let’s grab snacks first.”

Chips, soda, and whatever else the three of them could grab were taken and the trio took off downstairs to the rec room…

…666…

At seven-thirty, the three of them found Damien in his study and told him that Miles wanted to be taken home.

Normally, Delia and Xander would have asked to stay to take advantage of being alone together, but not only would it have looked strange, the two of them wanted to see how Damien dealt with Daniel and to see the one-time young man who had murdered for the Antichrist.

The Spensers lived closer to the city than the Thorns, and after everyone settled into the car, with the younger Thorns insisting that Miles ride shotgun, they began the ride into Chicago, and it was forty minutes later that they arrived a large house in the suburbs. All four of them got out of the car, and Miles rang the bell, and moments later a very handsome man in his thirties answered the door.

Neither Delia nor Xander had to be told that this was Daniel; love, devotion, ecstasy, and joy poured off him in thick waves, all directed at their father.

They also knew that there wasn’t going to be any kind of meaningful conversation, they, plus Miles, were impediments to that, but it was enough for younger Thorns to watch their father, who was in his element.

Daniel went back inside the house and handed Damien his business card and in return, Damien told Daniel to call, and they would get together.

“I’ll see you both at school tomorrow?”

They both heard the worry in Miles’ voice that he would abandon him.

“You bet.” Xander gave the boy a wide smile.  

“Sure.” Delia smiled and gave him a reassuring nod.

Daniel put his arm around his brother’s shoulder. It was less about an act of protection, and more a signification of Daniel’s intention of introducing Miles to an…alternative way of thinking about things. Everyone said goodbye and parted ways.

The siblings could barely contain themselves and it took all their effort not to pounce on Damien, both literally and figuratively, and demand that their father explain the ins and outs of what was going on. Instead, Damien quietly led his children back to the car and brother and sister got into the back seat together. The ride back was silent as the pair of them only exchanged glances between each other.  

When the Thorns returned to the house, it was nearly nine.

“Will you two please start dinner?”

“Of course.”

They watched their father go upstairs and head to his room while they went to the kitchen.

Delia turned on the oven, set the temperature and waited for the oven to beep. They were in the middle of making salad when Xander put down the knife and turned to his sister.

“Did we do something wrong?” 

“Are we in trouble? No. Did we do something incorrectly? That’s what we want to know. I think we threw him for a loop.” 

“Should we say something?”  

“Let’s wait to see what happens at dinner.” 

He went back to the salad and Delia put the lasagna in the oven. It would now be another hour before they ate. In the meantime, they set the table in the formal dining room, complete with the good china and crystal, figuring that their appropriation of Miles for Damien represented an important milestone in their development, and they wanted to celebrate. At one point, Delia poured a glass of wine for her father, letting it breathe.

Once everything was done, they summoned their father, who came into the kitchen and helped himself to the food and everyone moved out into the dining room.

“Everything looks very nice.” Damien sat and took a drink of wine.  

“Thank-you.”

They had both replied and sat for the meal.

However, all they could do was pick at their food. The silence was horrible for them and while usually it was Delia who broke down first and said something to their father, tonight it was her brother who put down his fork and looked at their father.

“Alright. Enough with the silent treatment. We know that we didn’t do anything wrong and that we’re not in trouble. But we don’t know if what we did was…correct…what could have been done differently. We need to know for next time.”  

“We want there to be a next time; we liked what we did.”  

“It was fun. He was your late birthday present. We figured instead of trying to get you something that you didn’t have, we’d get you more of something that you wouldn’t mind having.” He smirked at his father.

“We don’t want you to think that you made us do it; you didn’t. You’ve never made us do anything we don’t want to do, or aren’t ready to do, or made your love dependent on something. We’re telling you we’re ready to learn and move on.” She was quiet. “Aren’t we your pups anymore?” 

Damien sent a wave of reassurance her way. “Always.” 

“Then it behooves you as the father jackal to properly instruct your whelps, especially when they want you to teach them.”

Dinner seemed to now begin in earnest as everyone dug in and enjoyed their meal, and once they finished eating, and the kitchen was cleaned, and the downstairs closed down for the night, the conversation was taken up to the Chapel…

...666...

It was well after midnight when Damien called it a day. “I would however, like to see you both before you go to bed.” 

Each went through their nighttime ablutions, and then returned to their father, who was in bed reading.

“Park it.”

They did as their father instructed and sat on his bed.

“I love you both and I am very proud of both of you…and yes, I like my present very much. And no, I’ve never made my protection and love contingent on anything because that’s not what a parent does. That being said, being part of this family comes with duties and responsibilities and that you both have sought out those duties and responsibilities at fifteen…I’m impressed and happy. And I want to make sure you understand something: Miles is not going to show up to school tomorrow signed, sealed, and delivered. I will speak with Daniel at some point, and I’ll help him with Miles…with whom you plan to do what?” 

“Keep hanging out with him. Obviously, we’d like to help him make friends with some other kids, so he’s not always hanging around us, but we’d be friends with him…bring him here…are we not supposed to do that?” She raised an eyebrow at her father.  

“Yes, and do you like him?”  

“Are we supposed to? Because we don’t. The goal is to make him a disciple…it only matters that it looks like we like him…or are we missing something?” 

“Very good. Is there anything else?”  

“Nope. Later, pater.” Xander stood, walked across Damien’s bed, and left.  

“And you?” 

She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Good night, whelp number one. I’ll see you in the morning.”   

“Goodnight.”

And like her brother, she disappeared out the door.

...666...

Delia had been in her room for ten minutes when she heard the light knock on the door. Without using words, she told him to come in.

Xander shut and locked the door behind him and went to her.

“Well, this was an interesting day.”

She smirked. “That it was.”

“I couldn’t help but notice earlier that my sister was all hot and bothered by everything that was going on.”

“Was I?”

“Yes, you were, and I came all the way over here from across the house hoping you still are.”

She snorted. “Across the house all the way over here…nice try, Vasco da Gama. More like up the stairs and to the left.”

“Is that a no, then?”

She left him there as she first went to the bathroom and brought back a red towel that she tossed to him, and he lay on the bed near her pillows. Next, she went to her desk and came back with a small box that was hinged.

“Delia…”He couldn’t take it anymore and pulled her to him, his hands inside of her pajama top. He moved up her back and reveled in the sensation of her on his skin.

She buried her face in his neck. “Mmm, Xander…I’m not the only one hot and bothered.”

“Of course. I’m not wasting the poor sherpas’ valuable time hauling my gear all the way over here for nothing.”

His mouth was on hers, and with slight force, he pressed his tongue against her teeth, and she allowed him to continue kissing her, their tongues vying for position over the other.

He pulled away and after a quick kiss, he reached down and pulled her pajama top over her head; she had already removed her bra.

“I must say, I’m very proud of you.”

He quickly undressed himself and stood there naked. “I like proud; I get treats when you’re proud of me.”

“Though I guess I really should be proud of myself in teaching you such terrific self-control.”

“Ah. Well, that will most definitely change. I am, after all, a mere lad of fifteen, and I can only keep the blood away from my boy parts for only so long where you’re concerned.”

She stepped away and turned around so that her back was to him and bent over, very slowly working her pajama bottoms down until they pooled at her feet. She was not near enough to him to reach out and smack her ass, which was framed by soft pink lace with not quite enough material to cover all of her cheeks. 

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

She pushed him so that the backs of his calves were against her bed. “Why do I get the feeling that you’ve come here for more than a roll in the hay, or in our case, a roll on the very expensive silk sheets.”

“My sister. So astute and wise beyond her years.” He sat and maneuvered his way up the bed so that he was laying back, his head resting against her pillows.

Delia was now at the side of the bed and simply sat so that she was straddling him.

“Those pink panties are just darling on you, as is the matching bra.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. However, that being said, I am here to negotiate something.”

“And that would be…”

“The removal of those gorgeous lace undies for an up close and personal view of Delia’s very special girl parts. And a from now on thing. Not just one and done.”

She had placed the green box on Xander’s stomach and now opened it up. Inside were two thimbles, but rather than them being rounded, a short blade stuck out from the top. Both red and black, she placed the larger one on Xander’s left thumb; the smaller one she put on her right index finger.

“What does this negotiation involve?”

“The blood is beginning my leave my head, Delia…”

“That’s your problem, Sport, not mine.” She gave him a wink.

“Inspired by our chance meeting with Miles and then his brother, I will give you an accounting concerning the events surrounding the elimination of the nazarene for Damien. If I am successful, you lose the panties.”   

“Is this happening tonight?”

He sat up; now the pair of them were face-to-face, their legs wrapped around each other.

“No. If I’m successful, I’m expecting it to get very loud.”

She lightly ran her index finger across his chest; too light to draw blood from the thimble on her digit.

“So, when Damien is out of the house and we’re alone?”

“Ding, ding.”

She now applied slightly more pressure and a line of red opened up over his heart.

“And what is your measurement of success?”

He watched as she lowered her head, and when she was looking at him again, her lips were a bright red. He pulled her to him, the taste of his own blood on her.

“How do you taste, Chevalier?”

“Like candy, Madame. Success. If after, or better yet, during my recitation of things that were done in order to assist father in ridding the world of the nazarene you use me like the absolute slut that I am to get yourself off, we call it a win.”

“And if it falls flat?”

“Hang up and try again later.”

“I’ll have to think about it, Xander. But who’s to say that we can’t do other things while I think about it.”

He could already feel her anticipation spike, and he pressed the thimble against the skin just below her right shoulder and pulled it across her skin, hard enough so that a thick, red trail began slowly trailing down toward her breast until it eventually reached her nipple.

Xander lowered his head and cupped her breast in his hand, encompassing her nipple with his mouth and the sudden iron tang of her blood filled his mouth. Her pleasure filled him, and he could feel the tightening of her fingers in his hair.

He pulled away, the trail of her blood still there, now smeared from what he had done. He smirked as he kissed her.

“And how do you taste, Madam?”

She sighed. “Like candy, Chevalier.”

He lay back and for now, he folded his arms behind his head.

“You know, the best thing about the pair of us both being proud of you, is that we both get something we enjoy.”

He was tempted to tell her that she never had to do anything that she didn’t want to, but he knew that she knew that and if she didn’t want her mouth around his manly goods, then it wouldn’t happen. He also could feel her enjoyment at everything that was going on.

He was also tempted to comment that if she removed her panties, then he would be able to return the favour, but he thought better of it, and as she began to kiss and lick her way down, he wondered exactly how little sleep the pair of them would be getting tonight…

...666...

Once they had finished, the towel went into the hamper, and they had washed off the blood in the sink. Xander now lay in Delia’s arms, her fingers entwined in his hair and her thumb brushed against his mark, neither wanting the night to come to an end.  

“Did you have fun today?” He whispered into her ear.

Delia moaned and giggled; his breath tickled. “Which part?”  

He propped himself up on his left elbow. “All of it…the thought of making Miles a disciple of Satan’s, of handing him over to father. All he was lacking was a big, red fucking bow tied around his neck. However, if I know my sister, and I think I know her pretty well, she would have preferred sitting down with Miles and using good old fashioned common sense to explain to him why Satan would make a much better God than theirs.”  

She held out her hand to her brother.

“We have a bet?” He put his hand in hers.  

“But it had better be good, Nander, or else, it’s going to be a long time until you see my special girl parts.”

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge.” He put his pajamas on and sat back down on the bed. She knelt behind him and kissed his mark. “Do you want me to stay?” He turned to look at her.

She draped her arms over his shoulders. “I always want you to stay, but I’m so worried that the night we decide to spend together will be the night of the morning he decides to come looking for us.”

“I know.” 

He kissed her forearm, got up and held out his hand and helped her out of bed. They made their way to her bedroom door.

“And you had better start working on your story now. If Damien says he’s going to be late tomorrow night, that’s it, you’re up.”   

Like with most other things, he didn’t bother asking her if she were serious. “You just get ready to lose those panties.”  He didn’t want to leave; he wanted to take her back to her bed and climb in beside her and hold her until they fell asleep, but that wasn’t going to happen, at least not tonight.

She was quiet and then looked her brother in the eyes. “I think Jeanette Lawson is perfect and she’s a nice girl. She’ll make a good first girlfriend.”  

“Are you sure?”  

“Yes. I don’t like it, but we need to make sure you look like a normal, wholesome, all-American boy and it doesn’t get more wholesome, normal, and all-American than Jeanette Lawson.”  

“Then I’ll ask her tomorrow.”  He closed his eyes. “I’ll have to kiss her, eventually.”   

She felt his regret. “I know and like I said, I don’t like it, but it’s what needs to be done.” She gave him a wan smile; he had opened his eyes by then.  

Xander leaned forward and put his forehead against his sister’s. “I love you, Deedle, forever and always.” 

Delia closed her eyes but moved so that her mouth was beside his right ear. “Satan may have your soul, but just remember who owns the rest of you.”  

She opened the door, and he took one step out into the hall, and she smiled coyly at him.

“Goodnight, Xander.”  

“Goodnight, Nag.”

She closed the door, and no more than a few seconds had passed when something pink was visible under the crack of her bedroom door.

Tease.  

You just get started on your story.  

He waited until the light under her door disappeared and then headed back to his room.

Chapter Text

Delia carefully peered out through the curtains. Damien hadn’t told Xander that she would be waiting for him when he came home, so she didn’t want to spoil the surprise. She looked down at his Milo who lay on the marble floor, head between his paws. At this point, Delia wasn’t sure who missed him the most, she, his dog, or their father. She turned back to look outside.

A flash as the sun glinted off something metallic and a second later, a car came into view over the lift of the driveway. The dog stood, looked up at her, and whined.

“I told you I get him first.”

Xander’s dog was soon joined by the two other Milos who sauntered in from wherever they had been resting.

She went outside, closed the door behind her and ran down the stairs.

The car stopped before it got to the top of the driveway and Xander opened the car door, jumped out, and raced to Delia; they threw their arms around each other.

He had been away on a school trip for ten days; they had never been separated from each other for that long. They held onto each other until he realized that his sister had run out in her shorts, socks, and T-shirt, though the stairs leading up to the house were free from snow.

“Damien didn’t tell me that you’d be home!”

“What kind of family do you think you have? We’d never let you come back to an empty house.”

“Cecile isn’t here?”

“Nope, it is just I.”

“Deedle, come into the house; you must be freezing.”

The driver had pulled the car up and had brought his luggage to the top of the steps.

“I’ll take it in, thanks.”

The driver nodded and got into the car and left.

“Now, I need to warn you. You have quite the reception in the foyer waiting to welcome you back, but I told him that I got you first. Are you surprised!?”

He hugged her again. “Very!”

She opened the front door, and all three dogs were sitting and waiting. His Milo, however, was whining, little able to contain himself, but knew better than to jump on his Master sans an invitation. Once all his things were inside the house, he closed the door and sat. Milo was shaking with excitement and Xander smiled, and his dog made it to him in one bound and began licking his face and nuzzling him, and once the dog had, to his satisfaction, let his Master know that he had been missed, he backed away, but didn’t stray far.

Delia held out her hand and he took it, and she pulled him up, but neither let go of the other. They had been parted from each other and now that they were touching, the desire that had been deferred over those ten days was screaming to be let loose.

But she turned her head, breaking the gaze they had shared and, with much difficulty, reigned in her wants and turned back to him.

“I missed you.”

He had taken his cue from her and had put away his arousal until it could be unleashed at a later time. “I missed father. I missed the dogs. I missed my bed. I missed the Chapel. I missed Cecile’s cooking, but there isn’t a word to describe how much I hated being away from you.” He picked up her hands and kissed them.

“In the mood to make me breakfast?”

“Nothing would make me happier. I’m starving, too. I was so excited at the thought of coming home, I couldn’t eat. But give me a few? I want to change and go up to the Chapel. I’ll bring this stuff up later.”

“Of course.”

“Come on, Milo.”

She watched the pair of them go upstairs and she sat on the steps and waited with the dogs until he eventually came back down, dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt with the Thorn Industries logo on it.

She got up and jumped on his back. “To the kitchen, mush!”

“And you’ll be very pleased with your exceedingly manly brother who was not one of the people who had to go home because they were homesick.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They called their parents, who sent their drivers to come and get them.”

Delia laughed and kissed the back of his head. “Your manliness makes your family proud.”

In the kitchen, he put her down by the fridge. “What am I doing?”

“I want tacos. Everything is ready. The steak just needs to be cooked. I wasn’t sure what you would want.”

“Tacos are fine.” He had long ago gotten used to her unusual breakfast choices and had eaten his share of pizza and chicken for breakfast with his sister.

He put his head in the fridge and pulled out everything and put the shredded beef in the frying pan that was already on the stovetop. She had at least learned enough from him to season the meat ahead of time.

“So, what did I miss?”

In response to the question, he got a punch in the arm. “What was that for?” He turned to look at her, putting a ministrative hand over his throbbing upper arm.   

“For making father lose his mind while you were gone.”

“Oh, Delia...”

“Fuck you; you weren’t here.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Talk and cook, please.” She turned him around to get back to making breakfast.

“What happened?”

“He was fine for the first few days...and then he stopped talking. Which, given the events of the last three days, had been a blessing.”

“Why? What’s been going on for the last two days?”

She cleared her throat, “‘Delia, how many times do I have to tell you to put your shoes in the closet? Delia, how many times do I have to tell you to put your dishes in the dishwasher? Delia, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave your empty pop cans in the family room? Delia, know what you want before you open the fridge.’”

“No.”

“Everything I did irritated him. If I was lucky, I could get away from him by going to my room, but sometimes, not so much.”

“Deedle, I’m sorry.”

“It was kind of endearing...up to a point. Of course, I’m glad you’re home so it will stop. The daddy jackal will have all his pups in the den and that will make him relax and leave me alone.”

While he prepared the food, she set the table. Once everything was ready and they sat and ate, enjoying their meal in each other’s company.

“Comment était la belle province?”

“Québec was lovely, as usual, and skiing was fantastique.”

“Did you meet any pretty French-Canadian girls?”

He laughed. “No, but some of the others did. I think there were a few guys who arrived virgins but left otherwise. One guy got sent home for being drunk and starting a fight, though plenty of others brought alcohol. Some of us did some historical sightseeing and that was pretty much it.”

Once breakfast was done, he looked at her. “I don’t think I’m quite done satisfying my appetite.”

“That makes two of us. Think you can hang on a little longer for the second course?”

“I’ll try.”

“Clear the table; I’ll be right back.”

Delia ran upstairs and while she was gone, he brought their dishes into the kitchen and wiped down the table and was drying it off when his sister came back. She was carrying a large roll of paper.

“Is that what I think it is?”

The pair of them rolled it out on the kitchen table, keeping it from curling in on itself with the salt and pepper shakers, the napkin holder and sugar bowl. Once they were done, she looked up at him and smiled.

“Until you run off and get married, this will be our home. The plans for your house are on your bed.”

He returned her smile and then looked back down at the blueprints. When they were little, he and Delia had decided that they would live together once their father had explained that children grow up and leave home. They had taken their drawings to the architects at Thorn, who had, because Damien was their father, gladly obliged and helped design a home for the pair of them. It had been childish things at first, indoor ball pits, jungle gyms, faucets that dispensed cream soda and root beer.

Once they knew who they were, one house had become two when Xander had accepted the cold, hard fact that he would one day have to marry. Then when they had developed feelings for each other, they had decided that they would spend the majority of their time living at Delia’s house, while, publicly anyway, he would have his own swinging bachelor pad.

They looked at one another and the tendrils of desire that they no longer wanted to stop flowed between them. He rolled up the plans and they both made their way up the stairs. His dog whined, wanting to follow his Master, but he had been ordered to stay downstairs.

“I hoped Delia kept herself busy while I was away?” He kicked the door closed behind him, still holding the blueprints in his hand.

“Is that all that matters to you, Xander? Sex? I missed you.”

He walked past her to put the rolled-up paper on her desk and turned to her with a smirk. “Yes, but how much did you miss me? Twice a day?”

“Twice a day. You think you’re twice a day worthy?”

“I know I’m twice a day worthy. Please tell me it was at least once a day.”

“Perhaps.”

He came over to her and he put his left arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I kept myself to myself because I don’t think I would have been able to deal with feeling you and not being able to do anything about it.”

“Me, too. Xander…”

Her mouth found his and she could feel herself melt inside from the heat of her want of him. His hand went up the inside of her shirt and cupped her right breast, his thumb gliding across her nipple over the lacy material of her bra.

She had wanted to tease him. She liked teasing him and he liked being teased. But his mouth on hers took away the words and instead, she moaned deep in her throat, and her hands began hastily undoing the button on his jeans that he had changed into not that long ago; anticipating the sexual activity, he had worn no briefs. He had no more than stepped out of his jeans, then she pulled up his t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

She had expected for him to be as equally hurried. Instead, he led her to the standing mirror that was beside her closet and remained behind her.

He put his arms around her waist, pulled her close to him, and kissed the side of her neck. The fingers of his right hand ran along the top of her shorts.

“I think I’d like to show you how much I missed you.”

He undid the button and pulled down the zipper, watching as her shorts pooled at her feet; she had worn orange, lace panties.

“Very lovely.”

Rather than remove her underwear, his right hand slowly snaked between her legs, his thumb gingerly brushing across the tiny bump, making her knees buckle.

“Mmm, Delia, aren’t we keen.”

He reached down, grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head; it joined his on her bedroom floor.

“We have quite a few hours until Damien comes home. I wonder how we can spend our time…”

He scooped her up, impressed that he could pick her up effortlessly. Not that she was fat, though she wasn’t as slim as either he or Damien were, but he had begun taking his gym sessions a little more seriously than he had in the past. He was now daily envisioning himself in the Harvard crimson, his gleaming number 10 emblazoned across the back.

He dropped onto the bed as gently as he could.

“Delia Thorn struck silent? I’ll take it as a compliment.”

His mouth was on her body. She would shortly come to her senses and show him exactly how much she had missed him. But for now, she let herself be swept up in the growing tide of arousal that was threatening to drown her…

…666…  

He was sitting on the bed when he heard the hairdryer shut off and she came out of the bathroom dressed in her under things. She threw herself on the bed, back first.

“Want to go out for dinner?”

He lowered his head and kissed her. “I thought you’d never ask. It’s been ten days; must…have Chinese…food…or…I…will…perish.” He collapsed on top of her.

“We’ll call for a car and we can go to dinner.”

He sat up. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

But he only looked at her, letting her know the futility of her attempting to hide anything from him.

She sat and turned so that she faced him. “Ten days was a long time for you to be away,” her voice was quiet.

“And I never want to be away from you for that long again. There aren’t words to describe my inexorable joy at the thought that we are going to be attending the same school together. I will never know what I was thinking that we would be able to go to separate schools.”

“Where we will live in our own house and be all alone and do whatever we please, how many times and how often it pleases us, in any room in that house.”

“Are you trying to get me turned on again?”

“Mmm, always.” She was silent. “I always wanted us to go slow and take our time with how our sexual life progressed. I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve done.”

“I’m glad. That’s all that’s ever mattered.”

There was a long, pregnant pause as realization hit him.

“You want to tell father what’s been going on between us.”

“We agreed that we wouldn’t have intercourse until we tell him.”

“Is that your way of saying you want to…do the deed, as it were?”

She shook her head “Not right now.”

“It’s not that long until we’ll be on our own in New Haven, where, as you so eloquently put it, we can fuck our brains out in any room of that house, twenty-four, seven because the only ones who will be living there will be us.”

She smirked. “Did I say that?”

“I translated.”

“What if he caught us?”

He shrugged. “He hasn’t caught us up to this point.”

“We don’t have to give him details...so you think we should not tell him...like ever.”

“He hasn’t known up to this point, why tell him now?”

She wanted to think of more reasons, but she couldn’t, not even as an exercise in argumentation.

“Hey. It’s okay. I certainly have my own reasons that it might be better for him to know what’s been going on. Now rather than later.”

“For right now, I can handle you being married and living apart from me because it feels like a million years away, but that’s not the case. The more time that passes with us being together, the less I feel…equipped to maturely deal with your marriage and some…woman carrying your baby. That’d be one hell of a time for Damien to figure out what I’m feeling aren’t normal things for me to be feeling.”

“Then we tell him.”

Delia smiled at him. “At least with this crap going on at work, we have tomorrow and the next day to worry about it; but this is your first day back...I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Let’s get purdy and go out for dinner. We’ll gorge ourselves on Chan’s and come back and watch a movie.”

They got dressed and went downstairs, where Delia let out the dogs and Xander checked the machine and found a message from their father wanting to know if he was home. He also let them know that he would be home too late for them to wait and that he would see them at breakfast. He called his father back and left a message with the secretary letting him know that he was home and that he and Delia were going out for dinner.

They passed the time in Damien’s study until six-thirty, when they called for a car and not long after they found themselves at Chan’s and ordering their dinner.

While dinner was, as usual, beyond delicious, the ambiance in the restaurant seemed to be conspiring against them as they were surrounded by what felt like every romantic couple in the city of Chicago who seemed to have picked Chan’s as their restaurant of choice. They had also ordered extra food to bring to school for lunch and once their dinner was done, they hailed a cab to take them home.

Ten-thirty found them in the family room, each at opposite ends of the couch, curled up watching Sabrina, and once the movie was finished, they went upstairs to the Chapel for a while and once done in there, made their way to Xander’s room. They stood just inside his bedroom door, their arms around each other, their Milos sitting beside their respective Masters.

“It’ll be nice to sleep in my own bed and have Cecile’s cooking for breakfast.”

“Just remember to leave your bedroom door open.”

“Why?”

“So that Damien can make sure his precious baby boy is home, all safe and sound. But...I have to confess something.”

“What would that be?”

“I only kept myself occupied for the first five or so days, then I just missed you too much. I slept in your pajamas. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Promise me that when I become President, you’ll move, lock, stock and barrel, all of Thorn’s operations to Washington DC? I won’t be able to bare being away from you for four years.”

“Four years!? Your father didn’t teach you to be an underachiever.”

“Eight years, then.”

“I promise.” They kissed and Delia pulled away. “Goodnight, Nander.”

“Goodnight, Shorty.” He reached up and kissed the top of her head.

“Just for that, I’m going right to sleep.” She blew him a kiss, turned around and went down the hall and disappeared around the corner to go upstairs to her room.

“Well, that was stupid of me.” He looked down at the dog. “Come on.”

He changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, got into bed and exhaled. This was more like it.

Milo jumped up onto bed and lay so that his face was next to his; he reached out and gave his Master’s face a lick. “I missed you, too.” He gave his dog a scratch behind the ears then pulled the covers up to his chin and it took only minutes for him to fall asleep.

...666...

It was nearly three in the morning when Damien got home. He made his way up the stairs and stopped in his son’s room first and couldn’t help but smile.

Unlike his normal sleeping ritual, Xander had not pulled the covers up over his head and he was facing out to his door. He looked so young, twelve going on thirteen instead of just having turned seventeen the previous month. He stood there for a few more minutes and then left his son’s room and made his way upstairs to see Delia. Not to be out done by her brother, she too had left her door open.

He had been too short with her during Xander’s absence. Both of them were in the process of getting their licenses and she had her eye on a black Porsche 911 that Damien had initially dismissed as a first car for her, though he was hard pressed to come up with a reason why. She was struggling with being overly responsible behind the wheel, and while it was driving him up the wall right now, he had little doubt that in the end, she would be an excellent driver.

He left his daughter and got to his room where he found his dog curled up outside the door, and once given the okay, followed him in, curled up on the floor by his Master’s bed.

Damien took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and after sorting out some paperwork, got into bed and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Before he saw his father, Xander went into the kitchen, where he was greeted with a hug from Cecile.

“Now I know I’m home. Whatever’s for breakfast, I’ll take three plates of it.” He sat at the table.

“I hope you like pig’s feet because that’s what you’re getting.”  

“You’re not eating pig’s feet.” He checked out the bacon and hashbrowns on his sister’s plate along with the side of fruit salad.  

She smiled innocently at him. “I’m Sweetpea and Sweetpea doesn’t eat pig’s feet.”  

Cecile put down his plate, which was loaded with eggs, bacon, ham, hashbrowns and she added a side-plate full of toast. “Funny, I don’t see any pig’s feet here. And by the way? Pig’s feet are good.” 

“If you say so.”  

He only had a chance to put a few forkfuls of food into his mouth when the kitchen door opened, and Damien walked in. He got up and went to his father and they embraced and after receiving a few hearty thumps on the back from his father, they came back to the table.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Thorn?”  

“Some of everything, twice, please. I’m famished.”    

Cecile and Delia exchanged looks. Even though Damien had been in the kitchen for less than a minute, it hadn’t taken long for the two women to notice the marked change in his mood, not to mention that yesterday and the day before, he had consumed only coffee and toast at breakfast. Both shook their heads, thinking the same thing...men.

Delia ate and listened to the conversation between her father and brother. Xander gave Damien a much more detailed account of the skiing trip, which was why she had not pressed her brother about how he had spent his time: she knew she’d end up hearing it twice.  

Once he had given his father a rundown of his trip, the conversation turned to a different topic.

“How are things at the office?” 

“Hectic. Just give me a couple more days and things will be back to normal. I’m planning to take an extra-long weekend soon. I know it’s not much time, but Delia, we can do something since your brother has already had his vacation.”  

“Let’s not start tossing the v-word around. I went on a school trip for purely educational purposes.”

“Educational purposes. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Riigght. Anyway, don’t you two be taking off to God knows where, leaving me behind.”

Once breakfast was done, Damien went to the bathroom and when he came out, Xander was waiting with his father’s coat in hand.

“Thank-you, son. I’m happy you’re back home. Have a good day at school and, I won’t be home until late again, so don’t wait up.”  

“Will do and won’t do, D-Man.”  

“Delia, would you walk me to the car, please?”  

She threw on a pair of boots and a coat and walked with her father out to the car. Thomas would be at the house soon to take the pair of them to school.

Once at the car, Damien threw a glance at the driver, who stepped away to give father and daughter some privacy.  

“Do you have something to say to me?” She crossed her arms over her chest, pretending to be more peeved than she actually was.

“I was short with you when there was not call for it.”  

She put her arms around him. “I know you missed him. I can’t be mad at you for that.” 

“You must have missed him, too.”  

Delia kept control of her emotions. “Yes, I’m very glad he’s home.” 

“Your birthday just passed. I think I can find a more tangible way of making up my shortness with you.” He waved the driver back over.  

“Well, if you insist; who am I to argue with Damien Thorn?”  

“Have patience with all this shit at work and apart from Paul and Thomas, you’ll be the first one to know everything that’s going on. Deal?”  

“Deal!”  

“I love you. You have a good day at school.”

“I love you, back, D-Man and you have a good day at work.”

Inside the house, Xander was waiting for her on the steps. They hadn’t said anything to Damien about setting aside time to talk about things. There was far too much going on and they didn’t want him to worry.  

They looked at each other. Even without bringing up the topic, they had felt uncomfortable in their father’s presence: this was going to be harder than they imagined.  

...666...

He had returned on Monday and while things at Thorn had calmed down by Thursday, they had waited until Friday morning to tell him that there was something they wanted to discuss after work. Damien agreed and told him that he would see them later and then left. After he was gone, both of them took off upstairs to Delia’s room.

“Are we doing this?” It felt unreal to him.  

“I think so, though ask me again when we get home from school. My gut is so clenched, I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat for the rest of the day.”  

Both of them knew that they would have to get through the school day without letting this affect them. If they came to talk to their father full of fear and anxiety, he would be less likely to think that they could continue to hide what they were doing. They let go of each other, composed themselves and then went downstairs to wait for Thomas.  

...666...

It was three forty-thirty when she and Xander made it home from school. She went right upstairs to her room, while he chatted with Cecile and then saw her to the door. A few minutes later, he joined her.

“Damien will be home in an hour and a half or so.” 

“I feel like a condemned prisoner awaiting execution.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“It’s still not too late to back out of this. When he comes home, we can tell him that we’ve changed our mind about speaking with him.” He sat on her bed.  

“That is so tempting. It would make everything so much easier.”  

“I just hate...Delia, all of this, explaining it all to him is going to be putting our relationship under a microscope and making us feel like we’ve done something wrong.” He pulled her down so that she was sitting beside him. He smiled and reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I still remember the day we kissed for the first time. I didn’t feel shame then, I don’t feel it now. I want you to know that even though I might be feeling uncomfortable through...” but her mouth on his stopped him.

Finally, she pulled away and licked her lips. “You were saying?” 

Xander held out his hand and she took it, and they went up to the Chapel.  

Once inside, as always, they gave thanks to God for their lives and for their father. They sat, leaning against the wall farthest away from the door. Their heads were bent and each prayed. They prayed not only for God to give them the strength to get them through all of this, but to help their father understand their need and desire to be with each other.  

...666...

Damien got home at just after five. He looked at the empty staircase; there had been a time when they were always there waiting for him when he got home from work, but he knew they were here, and he told them he was now home. They had told him that they had wanted to talk to him about something, and while Damien wasn’t sure what the something was, he had an idea that it wasn’t anything good.

“Hello.” He smiled at them as they made their way down the stairs to him; they did not return the gesture.

“Hello. How was work?”

“Much better, Delia. I was going to suggest we sit down, and I can show you everything, but I don’t think that’s happening.” He looked from his daughter to his son.

“Maybe later.” 

“Can we talk to you now?” 

“Of course, Xander. I know I don’t know what this is about, but you know that no matter what you say to me, you’re my children and I’ll always love you.” He, however, was not met with the usual chorus of we know. “Do you want to talk in the study?” 

They both nodded at him and then they followed their father. Once inside, they sat in the chairs across from the desk. 

Damien took his seat and looked across at his children.  

There was pause and then after a few moments, Delia cleared her throat. “Um, Xander and I decided that it was best if I started off, but now, looking at you, I really don’t want to do this, or have this conversation.” 

“You know that you can tell me anything.”  

“I really hope that’s the case.” The silence was deafening and the tension that existed in the room became something concrete. She cleared her throat again. “Since Xander and I were twelve, things have been happening between us...things of a sexual nature...”

But she didn’t get the chance to continue as Damien put up his right hand to stop her.

“Delia, you will go and wait in the kitchen.”  

“I don’t understand.” 

“Go and wait in the kitchen, please.” 

She turned to look at her brother, when out of the corner of her eye she saw father get up and his fist came down on the desk with such force, it shook the desk and made the pair of them jump.

“Now!” 

Delia got up, but she couldn’t move. For the first time in her life, her loyalties were divided. Listening to him meant leaving her brother in a situation which might possibly endanger him; choosing to stay and make sure that Damien didn’t hurt Xander put her at odds with her father. She stood there, not being deliberately disobedient, but too confused to move.

Damien was furious, until Delia’s confusion and fear came at him like a wall.  

“I am not going to hurt Alexander. Something’s been going on? Fine, then I will get to the bottom of it my way, not the way that you and your brother have decided that things will go. Am I understood?”  

“Yes, sir.”  

“Go wait in the kitchen and I will call you when I want to speak with you. And if you both know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your thoughts and feelings to yourselves.”  

Delia turned and left the study, closing the door behind her.  

The second she left the room, Xander registered a rise in his father’s anger, and he knew he was standing both literally and figuratively in a place where others had stood and had not lived long after to tell the tale; and while logically, he might have known his life wasn’t in danger, it wasn’t doing much to stem the tide of fear coursing through him, and that fear increased because the next thing he felt was his father inside his mind.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and I want the truth; I will know if you are telling the truth. I will ask the same questions of Delia. If you lie, or if she is covering up for you, things are going to get unpleasant. Am I understood?”

His father’s tone was cold, flat, and deadly.  

“Yes.”  

Damien hesitated. “Have you ever forced my daughter to do anything that she didn’t want to do? And I am talking about things of a sexual nature.” 

“No.”

“Have you ever manipulated Delia into doing anything that she didn’t want to do? I know how good you are at getting people to do things that they might not ordinarily want to do.” 

“No.” 

“Have you ever threatened my daughter? Told her that you would hurt her if she didn’t do what you wanted?” 

“No.” 

“Have you ever used your position of authority, or future position of authority, to get my daughter to do something that she didn’t want to do? Threatening to bar her from her rightful place in the afterlife, which, for your information, you do not have the right to do?” 

“No.”  

Each time Damien asked a question, he felt his father press a little harder, the symbolism of which was not lost on him, and each time, his voice got smaller and tinier, as if he were disappearing.

His father took two steps towards him; he was so close, Xander was staring right into those ice blue eyes.

“Have you ever tried to, or ever actually raped my daughter?”

He was shaking and it was taking everything he had not to burst into tears and fall to his knees and beg Damien to stop. He looked his father in the eyes and with all the courage he could muster he answered.

“No.” 

But Damien did not break his gaze with his son and moments later, the door to the study opened and Delia stood there.  

“You will go and wait in the kitchen until I call you and as before, you will keep what you are thinking and feeling to yourself.”  

Almost falling over, he briskly walked out of the study not looking at his sister as he left.

She fought her urge to go after him, especially since she knew that his first step would be going to the bathroom to throw up before he made it to the kitchen if he made it there at all.  

“Delia, look at me.” 

She turned to her father only after her brother had left the study. “What did you do to him?”  

“What I wanted to do to him and nothing that was any of your business.”

“You said you weren’t going to hurt him.”  

“If I had hurt him, he wouldn’t have left the study under his own power. I did what had to be done in order to find out the truth, which is what I will do with you.” As gently as he could, while still letting Delia know that he was serious, he put himself into his daughter’s mind. “I don’t like doing this, but I can’t have you protecting your brother. I want to know the truth and this way I know that I’ll get it. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes.”  

“I asked Alexander the same questions and if I think that you are protecting your brother when he has been hurting you, things will get bad. Am I making myself clear?” 

“Yes.” 

“Has Alexander ever made you do something that you didn’t want to do?”  

“Like what?” 

Anger rose in him. “You know what I mean! I’m not talking about stealing cookies for your brother when you were six. Has he ever forced himself on you?” 

“No.” 

“Has he ever manipulated you into doing something that you didn’t want to do? Have you found yourself somewhere that you didn’t know how you got there?” 

“No.”   

“Has he ever threatened you?” 

“No.”  

“Did he ever use his position of authority, or future position of authority, to get you to do something that you didn’t want to do? Threatening to bar you from your place in Heaven?”

“No.” 

“Has he ever tried to...”

But Damien could not look his daughter in the face and ask her that, not when it came to his son.  

“No! He’s never laid a hand on me against my will. You didn’t ask him that, did you!?” She could feel the blood drain from her face.  

“I need to know what’s been going on. I needed to make sure that he hadn’t hurt you.” He removed himself from Delia’s mind.  

“I would never let him...whose daughter do you think I am!? I would have defended myself and would have come to you to tell you.”  Like her brother, she was doing her best to not break down in front of her father.  

The door to the study opened and Xander walked in, looking like death.

“That wasn’t an enjoyable experience for me either, but I needed to make sure that what happened did not involve force, which I now know that it didn’t.

“This isn’t over, but we are done talking about this for today. First, whatever has been going on will stop. Second, I need space to deal with all of this, so I want to be left alone. Third, we all be downstairs for breakfast tomorrow morning and Cecile will not be given any reason to think that there is anything out of the ordinary going on in this house.”  

“What about dinner tonight?” 

“Delia, food is the last thing on my mind right now. I’ll get something for myself later if I’m so inclined.” Both of his children looked like they had been put through the ringer; Damien guessed that he didn’t look much better. “I love the both of you. You’ve kept this from me...okay, and for whatever reason, you’ve decided to come forward now. I understand and accept that.

“That being said, I asked for space, and you will give it to me. I also suggest that if you want to use the Chapel, you do it now.” 

Both of them nodded to their father and walked out of the study. They wanted to run up the stairs to get to the Chapel, but neither had the energy. They made it upstairs and once inside, closed the door, and walked to the back of room and both of them slid down the wall, back first, too tired and weak to stand up any longer.

“I knew it would be bad, but...” Xander closed his eyes, even now fighting the urge to be sick again. “I never thought I’d ever have to tell my own father that I didn’t rape my sister.”

She put her hands over her ears. “Please don’t. Please don’t ever say that again. I’m so sorry he asked you that.”  

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s done. It’s done and he knows and now we deal with the consequences. At least he didn’t kick us out.”  

“Yet.” Her voice was full of fear and worry.

“Deedle, that was me trying to lighten the mood. He loves us and he won’t kick us out. We knew that this could happen, that he’d push us away.” 

She turned to him and gave him a thin smile. “You barfed.”  

“Yeah, not very romantic, I know.” He took her hand.

“Considering you suffered through father’s interrogation because of your feelings for me, that was the most amatory puking in the history of romance. It’s done and he knows, and we move on from here.” She began giggling and then laughing.  

“I certainly can use a good laugh. What’s so funny?” 

“You.” She shook her head. “What were you thinking telling me you liked me? Do you realize that I could’ve gone running to Damien to tell him that you hit on me? Or worse, I could have kicked the shit out of you?” 

“I can’t help it; I’m a Thorn and when I see what I want, I go after it.”  

“I know I’ve said this before, but Alexander Thorn, I’m in love with you. I don’t want anyone else because I’d only choose you. You’re kind, sweet, generous, smart, funny, and loving.” Delia’s eyes went to the door of the Chapel. “If we had done this, even last year, I’m not sure I’d be able to stand the freeze out. I’d be at his door, clawing at it until my fingernails came off, but you’re my world, Xander. I can live without father; I can’t live without you.”    

Suddenly, everything that had just happened downstairs didn’t matter. It had always been about her. “Delia, we will spend our lives together, and I know I’ve said this before, but I’m in love with you.”

“He told us to stop.”  

“I know. And the plan still stands: if he says we can’t be together, we leave. Something else I said before: I can pretend in front of him that we are just brother and sister; but when I’m alone, I can’t pretend that I don’t love you as more than that. You’re hungry.” 

She put a hand on her now rumbling stomach. “Maybe if we eat, he will too.”  

The pair stopped at the door to the Chapel; they didn’t want to leave the tranquility of the room. Inside, they could forget the turmoil that they had stirred up. Inside, they could forget that if their father told them to stop for good, they would leave this room and the home they loved. With that, they turned and left.

...666...  

It was a week later that Damien called his children into the study. When they entered the room, they found him leaning against the window frame, arms across his chest, looking out across the expansive back lawn and swimming pool towards the woods.

They sat in the seats across from the desk, barely breathing, not doing, or thinking anything that would look like they were trying to rush their father. And for how long they sat like that they didn’t know, but eventually Damien took a deep breath and turned around.

“I can honestly say there have been few times in my adult life that I have been at a loss for words, and this is one of them. That this went on under my roof and I didn’t know about it...” he could only let the silence hang there until he took another steadying breath. “Xander, you’ve had two girlfriends since you were fifteen.”  

“My beards, I’m afraid.”  There was no pride in his voice as he came clean.

“Clever. I’d never ask why Delia didn’t have a boyfriend. I taught my children well and now it has appeared to have backfired.”  

Both of them stifled their desire to speak. Apart from giving a bare-bones account of what had happened, neither had been allowed to plead their case to their father, nor to tell him how bad they both felt for what he was now going through. Both recognized that Damien had the floor, and he would keep it until he felt his children should explain anything…if that opportunity came at all.

“I needed to make sure that there wasn’t anything that had gone on under duress and I know that now; that everything was consensual. Given the time frame of when this happened, just after Xander found out who he was, I also know that it wasn’t just the two of you and that how you have always been with each other might have been orchestrated in order for you to be together.  

“However, if I thought that you had hurt my daughter, or had forced yourself on her, I would have disobeyed my Father and put an end to all of this. I haven’t allowed you two to say much. I’ll give you the opportunity now, but with the same warning as before: I do not want details of any kind. So, whatever you want to tell me, go ahead.”

Delia wanted to jump out of her seat, but she remained calm.

“Please, please believe us when we tell you that at no time were we happy or proud that we hid this from you. We did it out of necessity, not out of some kind of game; please believe me.” 

“I do.”  

Xander continued, “If we would have come to you when were twelve and told you what was happening, you would have interfered; but if we could show you that we could keep it secret, then you would see that we could do it and you would be less likely to ask us to stop.”

“You know how Xander, and I are; we have very different social lives. We’ve cultivated our different interests over the past few years so that we could happily spend time apart from each other and not moon over each other in public. That won’t change. We will be going off to school where we’ll have different friends, different classes and spend little time with each other in public. Aaron is still unattached and has offered himself as “boyfriend” whenever I want, though since he’s at Yale, it would be a long-distance situation.”

“We also didn’t tell you because at first, we weren’t sure how long this would last. If it was nothing, then you didn’t ever have to know.” 

Damien locked eyes with his son. “Why did you tell me? Because in case you’re wondering, I could have gone my whole life without ever knowing this.”

“Think of things as a series of doors. There was one door we couldn’t open without you knowing what had gone on.”

Damien said nothing, but he clearly understood what had not been said.

“But there is also something else.”

“Okay...”

Xander steadied himself. “Recently, there’s been a…let’s call it growing certainty about getting married.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Damien made sure his tone was neither harsh nor judgmental.

“Because I don’t want to get married, and it’s not urgent. Not yet anyway.”

“I know, but…that’s God speaking to you. That’s important.”

“Also, I knew there was a possibility that this whole thing between Delia and me would come up. I don’t know when the message will be made clear that now will be the time for me to find a wife. I’m hoping I get a reprieve until I’m at least thirty, but whenever that happens, there won’t be hiding what has gone on between the pair of us.”

“Are you going to kick us out?”

Damien realized that his shoulders were nearly in his ears. He made a concerted effort to relax.

“No, Delia, I’m not going to kick anyone out. A father who loves his children doesn’t cast them away just because they do something that he doesn’t approve of. Also, I want you close to me so that I can keep an eye on things, at least until you both go off to school. I will admit that you’ve both done a good job hiding it from me and from everyone. You will continue doing that; however, if I’ve reason to believe that your public behaviour is problematic, we will talk again. This is huge. It’s monumentally awkward for me right now and it’s going to take time for me to have selective amnesia about all of this. And Xander, I would like for us to speak at some point.”

“Yes.”

“I was told that the blueprints for your homes were delivered. The plan is still to begin to build while you are both at school?”

“You bet, big man. However, we’re still…ironing out the details about who gets what land and who builds where.”

He looked over at his daughter. “Don’t beat up your brother.”

“I’m not beating up anyone. I’m simply using physical force to allow him to come to the correct decision about whose house goes where.”

“When Richard was still alive, there were two other families…there and there.” Damien pointed out the window to his kids, who had now joined him.

“Now it’s all ours.”

“Did Damien encourage the neighbours to sell their land?” Xander threw a look at his father.

He smirked. “I didn’t encourage anyone. I simply used mental force to allow them to come to the correct decision that it was a good time for them to sell their land and fuck off to Florida.”

Delia, unable to take feeling like she was an outsider in her own home any longer, turned to her father and put her arms around him. “I love you and I’ll always need you.”  She looked up at him. “The best day of my life will be the day I get to walk into Thorn and work with you. You’ll be sick of me.”

He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Not possible. The day you show up to work will be the first day that I know shit will go right at that place. We’ll get through this, like we get through everything. Things won’t go back to being exactly the same, but it’ll be the same where it matters. How about tomorrow I go through all this restructuring with you?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll find something for lunch, but I’ll see you both at dinner.”

“Of course.”

In the kitchen, the twins made themselves food and now sat at the table eating.

“Xander, how would you feel about moving to the other side of the house? The old guest rooms?”

“I feel more than okay with that.”

“I just don’t want…”

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I get it. You don’t want him to be uncomfortable. Whenever you want, we can move our rooms. It will give us an excuse to redecorate. How would like to spend the rest of the day until dinner?”

She smiled. “We haven’t gone to the barn in a while.”

“Then I’d call that a plan.”

After lunch was finished, the pair headed outside to spend the day together.

…666…

After dinner, and some family time, Delia went to her room to do some work. She was getting frustrated with her translations. It was nearly one in the morning, and she had decided to pack it in for the night when there was a knock on the door.

Silently, she told him to come in, but he remained outside. She got up to answer the door, and when she opened it, he was standing there with his pillows tucked under one arm, his toothbrush in the other hand and his pajamas slung over his right shoulder. All she could do was stand and stare.

There was a smile on his face, but it faded as he looked at her. “Deedle, if this is too soon, I can go back to my room.” 

“No, come in.” She stepped aside to let him pass.

“Are you sure?”  

“You wouldn’t be in here if I weren’t.” She smiled at him, grabbed his pajamas, and threw them on the bed.

“So, what were you doing when I so rudely interrupted?” He tossed his pillows on the bed and dashed into the bathroom to leave his toothbrush on the counter before returning.

“Well, I was working on the translation my teacher gave me and I’m about ready to punch him in his smug little face for making it so difficult.” She held up her book.

“Oh, please. What about what you gave to me? I’ll be happy when Damien gets back to giving me work to do; it’s less work.”  He sat on the bed and threw a pillow at his sister, who threw it back at him. “I can feel the change in the house; it’s a palpable thing. It’s like there’s a wall between him and us. I’ve never felt that before.”  

Delia drew her legs up to her chest and put her arms on her knees. “I know. I’m hoping that it’s just temporary. We’ve had years to come to grips with this; he’s had a week. He needs to lick his wounds and things will be back to normalish...I hope.”  

“But we’ll be leaving for school next year.” 

“Yeah.”  

“What? Usually that statement leads to more excitement than yeah.”  

“What’s he going to do without us?”  

“Way to bring it down, Deedledork.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I hate to think of him alone in this house.”  

“Why didn’t Satan make someone for Damien? Why does father have to be alone?”  

“It doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”  

She was quiet for a moment. “If she didn’t try to mother us, I’d be alright with father choosing a woman. There’s Anna. We both like her. She’s not annoying when it comes to being a disciple.” 

“It’s really up to Damien.”  

“Can you talk to him?”

“I don’t think he and I can have a conversation about sex or romance or women, for, like, the rest of our lives.”

“I see.” 

He was quiet and then looked at her. “Can we go to bed?” 

Delia frowned. “Are you tired?” 

“Yes, but that’s not really the point.” 

“Huh?”  

He sighed, got up, held out his hand to her and led her to the bathroom. He began unravelling floss onto his finger.  

“Oh, I get it.” Delia did the same and in silence they prepared for bed, flossing and brushing their teeth and washing their hands and faces. She turned to him. “I know we just went through a huge ordeal...”  

He stripped naked and put on his pajamas, going to the door to open it in case the dogs wanted in. “There’s no explanation necessary. I’m totally okay with going straight to sleep.”

She stripped and changed into her night clothes. She shut off the overhead light as Xander got into bed. He had pulled down the covers for her, and she climbed into bed beside him. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

“Come here.” 

She placed her head on his chest, nuzzled into him and put her arm across his chest; this is what they had from the beginning of their relationship; to spend the night together and not have to worry about getting caught or having to get up extra early for Xander to have to go back to his room. No matter what else was going on, this made everything bearable.  

“Don’t you wish we had a mother? And not Kate, but someone like us?” 

“Yes, but probably not as much as you.” 

She sighed. “She’d be beautiful. Dark hair, long and when I was little, I would have brushed it.” 

“I don’t see her cooking.”  

“You want Cecile’s cooking, that’s why.”  

“Can you blame me?” 

“She’d be smart, too, maybe a lawyer, or doctor...or an English professor! She’d teach me all about Shakespeare.”  

He started laughing. “Then we’d finally be the complete Addams family; Gomez would have his Morticia.” 

“That makes you Pugsley, you know.”  

“That’s okay, Wednesday, I can deal with that.”  

Delia stifled a yawn. “But she’d like what we liked. She’d be down there with us when tortured people; she’d be proud of us.”  

“Then we’d really have to be on the other side of the house because we’d never get any sleep with all the noise coming from their room.” 

“That’s okay. I’d prefer that than knowing that he’s going to be alone when we’re off at school.” 

“Does this perfect female have any flaws?”

“Bad temper.”

He could feel her smile as she said it; he smiled too. “Like mother, like daughter.” 

She closed her eyes. “I’m going to dream her for father, so he can be happy, and he won’t be alone.”  

 He kissed the top of her head. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Annoying One.” She kissed his neck.  

It felt right and good to fall asleep with Delia’s head on his chest; but a profound silence and sadness descended on him. “Things are going to be different from now on between us and him, aren’t they?” 

She felt it too, and she allowed herself to be swept up in her brother’s emotional turmoil; she paused before answering. “Yes. We’ll figure it out. We always do. It will be new. But he loves us and we, him. I have a funny feeling that the closer we get to leaving for school, the better he’ll be at managing the whole selective amnesia thing.”

Chuffing and panting overtook the quietness…and then the sound of two Rottweilers making themselves comfortable in the overstuffed beds on the floor that took up considerable space in the very large room.

The twins felt slightly better; if their four-legged companions were relaxed, then the Thorn household would return to a state of balance before too long.

However, as Delia and Alexander drifted off to sleep, they let sadness and grief sit with them. They had altered their relationship with their father profoundly enough that the house was different, and while it might only be temporary, and they did not regret their decision to be truthful, it was with heavier hearts than usual that tiredness claimed them in the darkness, and they fell asleep.

Chapter Text

“Japan?”  

“For ten days.”  

“When?” Delia looked at the calendar hanging on the wall in their kitchen.   

Xander grabbed the toast out of the toaster, buttered it and added it to the stack on the small plate. “Last week of May. School will be done by then.” He put the knife in the sink and turned to his sister. “Think of it, we’ll be in the Land of the Midnight Sun.”

“Missed it by this much.” She laughed and shook her head.

“Oh, no it’s Gojira.” He picked up a piece of toast and began using it to attack the eggs. “It’s no good. In order to save Tokyo, I must eat Gojira.” He shoved the piece of toast in his mouth and continued preparing their breakfast.   

While he had his back to her, she admired his body; the body that had been hers since she was twelve. She smiled. He used to like to call himself lithe, but he had been skinny for his age; smaller than Damien had been at twelve and she had been both heavier and taller than he was when they had first kissed. Now, of course, that had changed. Six feet tall and broad shouldered, the Yale Rugby Team had scooped him up at their first set of tryouts where he beat out the incumbent fly half to earn the position.

She reached over to the counter and grabbed a piece of toast from the pile, took a bite and kept watching him. His hair was still the color of mahogany. She saw the way women, not to mention men, looked at him; they would like nothing more than to run their fingers through all that mahogany goodness.

They had woken up late and had stayed in bed, enjoying each other’s body and the ensuing pleasure. She watched him remove the steak from the broiler and put it on a plate. Her mate, lover, brother, friend and in a perfect world, the father of her children. The thought of him made her heart, and other parts of her, ache. They had just finished fooling around and yet she wanted him again in the worst way. As the last piece of toast made its way into her mouth, she made a decision.  

“Ten days?” 

“Yep.” He put the second steak on his plate but gave all the mushrooms to Delia.

“That’s a long time.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“You know, we could stay home and look after things while Damien is gone. Check in at work, take care of some of his paperwork, have a party, and while the daddy jackal is away, the pups could play a new game.”  

Xander put the potatoes in a bowl and his hand was in the drawer getting a serving spoon when what she had said sank in. He stopped and looked at her. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”  

“I don’t know, Xander, what do you think I’m saying?”  

But he couldn’t answer her, afraid that saying anything out loud would jinx it.

She came over to him, put her arms around his waist and looked up at him “I love you. I want to be with you. I want you...all of you. No more holding back. While Damien is in Japan, I want us to do the deed as it were.”  

“Delia, oh God, there is so very little I want more than that, but we don’t have to do it now.”

“Don’t you want me?” She pouted.  

“Stop...I’ve not done or said anything to make you feel like it has to be now, have I?” 

“Mmm, you say and do all kinds of things that make me want you now.” Her hands roamed over his body. “Just think of all the fun new things we get to do.”  

“I’m serious. This is it...this is big. I don’t want to rush you into this decision.”  

“It’s sex with the boy I’ve liked since I was twelve. It’s a decision that’s been nearly six years in the making...I’d hardly call that rushed.”  

“Are you sure?”   

“Yes, I’m sure. I want us to have sex. No more waiting...until May, that is.”

“It’s only March. If you change your mind…”   

“I know.” She smiled at him, picked up her plate and grabbed the bowl of potatoes and took them into the dining room…  

...666...

The twins had driven their father to the Thorn Industries airport after enjoying what would be their last family breakfast for the next ten days. All of Damien’s luggage was on board and he was ready to go, except for Delia, who clung onto her father like she’d never see him again. She let go and looked up at him.  

“And you’ll call every day?”

“Of course.”  

“And barring any attacks on Tokyo by Godzilla or Mothra, bring us home lots of jolly presents.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And make sure you eat, and get lots of rest, and call us and I love you.” She threw her arms around him again.

“I’m going away for ten days, not ten years.”

“I know, but I’ll miss you.”  

“And once I come back, we’ll have our family vacation, and we’ll spend lots of time together.”  He kissed her cheek. “I love both of you and if you’re having any parties while I’m gone, I ask only that you leave my house standing.”  

“I can’t promise anything.” Xander shrugged.  

“And while I do appreciate you checking in on things at work, there is no need to make it your life. Thomas is in charge, so it’s all good. I’m looking at you, Delia.”

She shrugged. “I can’t promise anything.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

This time both children gave their father hugs and then let go of him so that he could get on board. The plane began its taxi down the runway and Damien waved to his children, who waved back, and they watched the plane take off and soon they were back in the car.

“Now what?”  

She said nothing.

“You want to go to Thorn, don’t you?”  

“You know me so well.” She stared out the window, watching her father’s plane get smaller and smaller.   

...666...

The look on Delia’s face was one of pure ecstasy.  

“Do you like?” 

She finished chewing and swallowed. “Stop it. Oh my God, I don’t even know what to say.”  

“That look on your face says everything.”  He leaned over and kissed her.  

She licked the chocolate off her fingers. “It’s too yummy, Xander.” 

“Lunch was acceptable?” 

“More than acceptable, Annoying One; it was beyond perfect.”  

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He got up and began clearing the dishes.

“No, no, you made it, and you already did the cooking dishes. The least I can do is rinse these and put them in the dishwasher.” She took the dishes from him and took them to the sink.

“And you’re full?” 

She turned to him, a smirk on her face. “Not too full.” Suddenly the smile fell away, and she simply stared at him.

“What?” His hand went to his mouth, trying to wipe away a stray bit of food that she might be looking at.  

“You know, we joke about you owning a restaurant, but why not? It’s criminal, Xander, to keep your cooking away from the general public.”   

He went to turn away, but she stopped him. “You’re going to be a lawyer at Thorn. I see the work that they do...it generally includes four-hour martini lunches and banging their secretary. You’re five times smarter than the smartest person who works there, which means putting in less work and it’s not your secretary you’re going to be banging. It would be nothing for you to run a restaurant on the side. And what about some kind of activity after you retire from being President?”  

“You really think I can do it?” 

“We both have dreams; one of us should live them.”   

A huge smile sat on his face. “I even have the perfect name.”  

“Don’t keep me in suspense.” She finished putting the last of the dishes in the washer and dried her hands.

“Alphonse’s!”

Delia began laughing. “Okay. Now you have to do it. I wanna eat at the restaurant named after the Marquis de Sade. Oh! We can keep it a secret for as long as we can! Who owns Chicago’s best restaurant? It’ll drive people mad!” 

He was silent, basking in the idea that he might be able to live out his dream of being a chef and running a restaurant.

“That was lunch, I guess.” She smiled at him.  

He looked at her. God, how he wanted her…every part of her, all the time. Love wasn’t a strong enough word for what he felt for her. For his whole life, there had been only Delia. Nothing else mattered, only if it made her happy. Falling in love with her...sexual activity had only changed how he showed her he loved her.  He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears.  

“I think I’d like to go upstairs.”

“Are you sure?”  

“I need to burn off all these lunch calories and I hear sexual intercourse is an excellent way to do that.”  

“Please don’t be flippant at a time like this.” 

“Alexander Thorn being serious about something? Funny, I didn’t hear anything about Hell freezing over.”  

“We don’t have to, not right now.” 

“I want you, and I want you in this house. I want you to make love to me. Now. If I go upstairs and start and without you...”  

“Okay, okay, it’s too late in this family’s dynamic for you to be the funny one and me to be the uptight one. Just promise me that if anything starts happening that you don’t like, you’ll tell me, and we stop.”  

“I promise.” She crossed her heart.  

They took each other’s hand, but rather than leading her upstairs, he led her to the dining room. He stood there and then turned to her.

“You have no idea how scared and turned on I was, sitting there watching you eat the sandwich that I had made for you. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than I wanted you that day. Before I came in to see you, I tore myself apart all morning debating whether I should tell you how I felt. When you were upset and started crying...I wanted to die. I had hurt you and had ruined us. And then you told me you liked me back...you could have hit me over the head with a hammer and I wouldn’t have cared. I love you more now if that’s possible. I want this first time to be perfect.” 

She leaned on his chest, and he put his arms around her. “I was too scared to tell you. The only time I let myself think or feel it was when I was alone. When you told me that you liked me...I thought I had imagined it. You liked me, too...I couldn’t believe it. Then we kissed and it was perfect.” She looked up at him. “Not because it was the best kissing ever, but because it was us. And this will be us, too.”

“I’d very much like to make love to you, Delia Thorn.” He picked up her hands and kissed them.

“I’d very much like that, Alexander Thorn. We can work up an appetite for dinner.” She led him out of the dining room, and they walked up the stairs. He stopped on the floor where their old bedrooms were.

“Here?”

She shook her head. “Those aren’t our rooms anymore, not that I wouldn’t mind doing it later, but not for the first time.”

They made their way to the other side of the house and up to their rooms and stood in the hall.

“So?” 

She ran into her brother’s room and came back with a quarter. “Heads my room, tails yours.”

“Come on, tails.” He watched the coin go up and then come back down as Delia grabbed it and then flipped it onto the back of her hand.  

“Heads, so close.” 

“I’d say we’re going in virgins and coming out otherwise, but I don’t think we were all that innocent to start with.”  

“I’ll buy that. Come on, Annoying One, better go make a woman out of your sister, metaphorically speaking, of course.” She pulled him towards the door to her room.

“Nag, nag, nag. Is that all you’re good for?”  

“I’ll show you what I’m good for, Nander.”  

“I’d like that, Deedle.” He grabbed her and traced his thumb over her lip. “I’m glad we waited. I enjoyed getting to know you, every inch of you. I’m grateful that you shared your pleasure with me.” 

“I am too.” She kissed his thumb. “Alright, enough of all this touchy-feely crap.”  

“I’d ask you to have mercy on me, but mercy is for the weak so, ravage me, Madame.” 

“I plan to do just that, Chevalier.”  

And with that, they lead each other into Delia’s room, and she kicked her bedroom door shut behind them…  

Chapter Text

Delia was woken up by a cold nose in her neck followed by a whine. “Aw, poor Milo, you were ignored for most of yesterday, weren’t you?”  

He let out a pitiful sigh and laid his head on her shoulder as he sat on the floor beside the bed. 

“Well, who wants to go outside and run around and chase and eat some bunnies?” 

Milo lifted up his head. 

“You go downstairs, and I’ll be down to get your breakfast. That includes you, boys.”

The two other dogs got up, stretched, and followed her Milo down to the kitchen.

She went to the bathroom, peed, and washed her hands. She came back out into her bedroom and her brother was still sleeping, the covers pulled up over his head.

They had spent the majority of the previous day and night fucking each other senseless and it had been wonderful. And, as with everything else that they had engaged in that had led up to yesterday’s activity, it had been fun, loving, adventurous and otherwise them. 

She threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went downstairs to feed the dogs. While they were eating, she scarfed down a couple slices of left-over pizza; though she knew that Xander would be down to cook breakfast for both of them. After food, the quartet went outside, and it was almost an hour of running around and playing fetch with the dogs when she knew he was watching her. She turned, and there he was standing at the open door. 

The three dogs, who smelled the cooking bacon, ran back. She was enjoying the morning and took her time making her way back to the house.

“Morning.” 

“Morning to you. I smell something yummy.” She came in and closed the door behind her. 

“I see something yummy.” He pulled her to him. “Everything’s good?”

“Everything is trés, trés bien. Y tú?”

“Better than I imagined; I had fun.” He kissed her neck, let her go and continued making breakfast.

“I had fun, too. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to have more fun today.” 

“Oh, I think I can arrange that. What else did you have in mind? Apart from paying a visit to the old salt mine.”

“Playing with the dogs; the babies were neglected yesterday. And have my brother continue to feed me.”  

“I can arrange that, too.” 

“My brother is very talented.”  

“That he is.” 

He finished making breakfast and as they sat at the kitchen table eating, Delia eyed him. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” 

“Don’t be coy with me. Since yesterday, uncoincidentally enough I’m sure, beginning with our sexual activity, you’ve been acting like you’ve got something up your sleeve.” 

“That’s because I do.”  

“Well, tell me.”  

“It’s not that simple...after we come back from the office.”  

They went out and played with the dogs and then came in and took a shower, making love while they were in there, and then dressed and headed to Thorn. 

Delia insisted on eating lunch out and all the while, she could sense something from him; whatever it was that he wanted to tell her both worried and aroused him.

They made it home and no sooner did they shut and locked the door, then she was on him.

“So, do I get to know now? I wanted us to eat lunch out so we wouldn’t waste any time once we got back here.” She began backing him towards the stairs and he stopped as his heel hit the first riser; she undid his belt.

“Yes, but, as you can tell, I’m somewhat...concerned about what it is that I want to say.” He went up one stair. 

Delia undid the button on his pants. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”  

“I hope so.”

“I’d cross my heart, but my hands are a little busy.” She pulled down his zipper.

They reached the landing of the second floor and Delia turned right to go to the part of the house where their bedrooms were, but Xander brought her further down the hall until they stopped at their father’s bedroom door. She looked in Damien’s room and then turned to him.

“Uh, why are there blankets on top of Damien’s duvet?” 

“Why do you think?”  

“So, we don’t have to wash Damien’s bedding after we have sex on his bed.” 

“Are you still with me?” 

“Always.”  

He pulled her into the room and closed the door behind them.

“Damien’s taken very good care of this bed over the years. Do you know why?” He quickly stripped down until he was naked.

A smile crept across her mouth. “Of course. This bed made it here from England...one of the few things that did; this is the bed in which we were conceived.”

“Have you ever thought about what that was like?” He reached out and undid the buttons on her shirt.

“Alexander Thorn, what an impertinent and improper question to ask.”

He removed her blouse and threw it on the chair. He reached down and undid the belt on her pants and pulled down her zipper.

“Is it?”

“Terribly so.”

She put her hand on his shoulder as she stepped out of her pants, which left her in her bra and panties.

“Green. Very nice.”

“Thank you.”

“I know something about you, though.”

“Is it that I do so love it when my brother is impertinent, and more importantly, improper?”

“Exactly, and you still didn’t answer my question.”

He turned her so that her back was to his front. He reached up, undid her bra and slowly pulled the straps down her arms and tossed it on the floor.

She reached up behind her and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Perhaps someone forgot.” He put his mouth by her ear. “Have you ever thought about what that was like?”

“If I say yes, that does make me wicked?”

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“Then yes.”

She turned around, her left hand on his lower back, her right hand between his legs.

“Would like to see?” His mouth brushed against hers.

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He gently tapped her forehead with his index finger. She still wasn’t sure what was going on, but she trusted him.

“Yes.”

He reached down and hooked his fingers inside the top of her panties and pulled them down while she stepped out of them.

Xander led her to the bed, and he sat in the middle of it. He took her hand and helped her on and now, she was sitting with her legs wrapped around him.

“And as it has always been, whatever Delia wants, she gets.” He kissed her. “Close your eyes.”

She did as he asked and then…

She was standing in a study, but it wasn’t the one in their home. At first, she didn’t know where she was, but then she saw Damien behind a desk. He looked so young...and thinner than he was...and then she knew that she had seen the study...in England and they went to the Ambassador’s residence and Damien had given them a tour.  

This was their father when he was still Ambassador to Great Britain.  

It was as if she were watching a movie and in the movie at the same time. She didn’t seem to be able to move, apart from body movements...she could smile, or move her arm, but she couldn’t walk anywhere.  

There was a knock.  

“Come.”  

The door was opened by a man whom Delia didn’t recognize.  

“Ms. Reynolds is here, sir. Shall I show her into the study?”   

“Yes, George.” Damien closed the book that he had been reading and put it on the shelf.  

Delia was consumed by panic. It was the book that contained the prophecy, and she wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t speak. She watched as he straightened his jacket and tie and put a smile on his face as the door opened again.  

“Kate, glad you could make it.” Damien went over to her and kissed her cheek. “Hungry?”  

“Famished. I ate breakfast this morning. Feels like ages ago.” She kissed his cheek in return.

  “Well, let’s see what awaits us in the dining room.”  

The two of them left and suddenly, Delia was in the dining room watching as they ate lunch.  

Delia had never seen Kate walking around. Damien had shown her and Xander the interviews she had done with him, but she had been seated and was very formal in her speech and how she held herself. She was much more relaxed now, but still reserved...holding back...and Delia smiled.  

She saw it in the way she looked at him, how a tiny blush would rise in her cheeks when he spoke to her, how she leaned into him, even though they were across the table from each other, how she laughed at everything he said: it was taking everything Kate Reynolds could muster not to jump Damien’s bones right then and there.  

He, however, presented no such qualities of being smitten with Kate. Delia observed her father. There was a sadness there, a grief that sat on him. He had resigned himself to his fate, that he would die if necessary and have children that would carry on in his place. He looked paler than she was used to seeing him and she could feel them, a black cloud hovering over him, haunting him until he gave up his will to live. Though, he didn’t let it show and he joked and laughed with her as they enjoyed lunch. She wanted to hug her father and tell him everything would be fine but couldn’t.  

They eventually finished lunch and Damien then gave her a tour, carefully leaving out the set of stairs that led to a very special room in the house. 

  Next, they put on their jackets, and he took her for a tour of the grounds, and they stopped at places she recognized from her own tour of the place, including a spot by the creek where Damien’s boyhood friend the pike hung out. 

They were having a conversation and then Damien was pointing out the fish to Kate when the wooden railing around the water broke and she fell in.  

Delia smiled and when she looked back at her father, he too wore an amused expression on his face, and she was suddenly wondering if she had missed something, and he had pushed her in. But he held out his hand and pulled her out; she looked like a drowned rat and with his arm around her, he escorted her back.  

At the house, Damien took her to his bedroom, where she showered. Her father had banished George to the servant’s quarters, though before he had left, Damien had him start a fire, and now Damien was alone in the room.  

He stood staring into the flames, no doubt thinking about his own mortality and that this was it. Damien had brought her here, now, today, in order to have sex with her. Whether he had orchestrated pushing her into the water, Delia didn’t know, but he again came back to himself when she came back into the room, and she settled herself in front of the fire to get warm. He was looking at the woman who would be carrying his children if he didn’t make it.  

He handed her a drink and she sat in front of the fire and Damien stood behind her and he held the sweater against her, and her hand grasped his and now, there would be no more waiting.  

Delia was fairly certain that Kate Reynolds had been no libertine; that was a vast understatement. In the dark, they removed their own clothing and while she was the one who pulled Damien to the bed, there was no lasciviousness in the act.  

Nor did Damien look like he was having all that much fun, although Delia could also chalk that up to the fact that he was attempting to create his successors because his life would shortly be over.  

The sex began in earnest and if it all had been any more boring, she would have fallen asleep standing up.  

And then he stopped, and Delia didn’t understand why.   

Kate began urging him on. She kissed him and asked him not to stop.  

And then…she could feel it before he opened his mouth.  

“Do you want to see what I see?”  

There was a tone in his voice that she had never heard; it was dark and rife with sexual violence. She knew what he sometimes did after the act because he had shown her the things that he got up to in the little room downstairs, but it had always been minus the sex. Now, she was about to find out firsthand something of what those women had gone through before her father had killed them.  

“I want you.”  

Delia watched as Damien took a hold of Kate’s right arm and flipped her over; she was now on her front, her face jammed into the pillow.  

“Birth is pain; death is pain.; beauty is pain.”  

It was clear that Damien was now inside her and Kate sucked in a huge gulp of air. Earlier, the thrusting had been subdued and halfhearted. Now, her father was putting the whole of his efforts into fucking her.  

She couldn’t speak, but she was breathing heavily.  

It took a moment for her to realize that her father had not entered her vaginally and Kate was in a great deal of pain.  

A small smile sat on Delia’s mouth.  

Kate struggled against him, but her struggle was in vain. She cried out, but her cries were muffled because Damien’s sexual efforts were forcing her face into the pillow. Delia could see Kate’s face, her eyes were better suited to the darkness, but she wasn’t interested in her mother at all; it was her father who had her attention.  

Once she and Xander were old enough to understand that most people had sex for pleasure and not procreation, and after they both knew whose children they were, they had often brought up the topic of Damien’s sexual conquests.  

How many women had he been with? What was sex like for him? Later, she had shared with her brother the details of what their father had done to that first woman who had shown up at their house to help Damien be less tense. He then had learned for himself what went on the little room downstairs. The pair of them agreed that their father was both far too narcissistic and sadistic to ever be a necrophile.  

There was a look of ecstatic enjoyment that she had never seen before, though she was sure that he had worn it all the times he had raped all those women he brought home…  

“Kate, Kate, Kate. You feel so good right now. I could be here all night; in fact, I just might be.”  

She was crying now. Hard.  

“It doesn’t matter whether you enjoy this or not. However, if you keep crying.” He grabbed ahold of the hair in the back of her head and yanked hard so that her throat was exposed, and his mouth was by her ear. “I might just decide that I really like it when you cry. During our time together, I will ask you to do things and if you want to see Peter alive again, you will do them without question. Am I clear?”  

Kate could only nod.  

“Good.”  

It went on for hours, him raping and humiliating her, taking her in any way that he saw fit. Eventually, he was sated, and he left her crying, splayed out in his bed.  

She did not need to follow her father, for there was only one place that he would go to seek solace…  

When Delia opened her eyes, Xander was inside of her, their bodies moving together. Her head was on his left shoulder, and she felt lightheaded and giddy. It was a good thing she wasn’t standing up or she would have fallen flat on her face. There were no words for either of them for there was nothing to say.

He began moving against her, and she met his movements with her own. She prided herself on the fact that she could control her orgasms, but it took only her brother brushing against her delicate little bump and her thighs quivered and she moaned into his shoulder. She could do nothing but succumb to the pleasure that he offered her. They held each other so close that there was no space between their bodies; they would spend the rest of the day and night guiding each other into ecstasy. 

Chapter Text

When Delia woke up, her brother was gone, but she could smell the steak that he was cooking. She hoped that he had gotten up to make breakfast and had not left because he couldn’t face her.

She made her way to the other side of the house to her bedroom, where she grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went downstairs to the kitchen. All three dogs were at his heels, as always hopeful for a stray morsel to fall at their collective feet.

“Hey.”  

“Hey, yourself.” Delia took a seat at the island that divided the kitchen from the dining area.

“Hungry?” 

She smiled. “Starving. Someone wore me out yesterday and last night.” 

He smiled back. “I could say the same thing about you.” 

“You’re no fair, do you know that?”

“Why?” He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her.

“Because how am I ever going to top whatever that was? You’re going to be able to lord that over me for the rest of my life.” 

“You’re honestly okay with it now that everything has stopped?”

“If I hadn’t been alright with it, the sex wouldn’t have started. But I’m too hungry to make big words. Delia need food or Delia faint.”  

“Almost done. Can Delia put plates, knives and forks on the table, or is that too much effort for her delicate constitution?” 

She grabbed plates and whatever else was needed. It didn’t take long for him to finish and soon the table was loaded with steak, bacon, potatoes, eggs, toast, and fruit salad with coffee for him, soda for her. They ate, both were too hungry to do much else, and once grumbling stomachs were taken care of, she began the conversation.

“Explain, please.” She took a drink of her soda.

He smiled. “Do you remember when we told Damien we wanted to torture someone, and he and I had the talk in the study?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, at one point I asked him if he remembered any of the women he slept with and he smiled and said only the one who gave him children and that popped into his head. I didn’t mean to be paying attention. Maybe I wanted to see what he really thought about things and then I got that.

“You hung on to that since you were thirteen?” 

“Yep, and trust me, there were soooo many times I came this close to telling you. I wanted to wait until we, you know, did the deed, as it were. So, here’s to me for keeping my big trap shut for nearly five years.” He held up his coffee cup and then took a drink.

There was silence as they ate, but the silence was not without communication. Delia finished first and she let the dogs out, cleaning up and putting all the food away while Xander finished his meal. Once the dogs were let back in, she stood behind her brother, her arms draped over his shoulders.

“I am grateful for so many things in my life.” He took hold of her wrists and kissed her right forearm.

“Such as?”

“I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice; I am my daddy’s special boy; and I have a God who works his Will in the world.”

He stood and turned to face Delia.

“However, I am grateful beyond words that I have been blessed by Satan with a sister who is more perverse and more immoral than I could ever hope to be.”

She inhaled and exhaled, a self-satisfied smile on her mouth. “Think about it.”

He put his left arm on the small of her back and took her right hand in his, pulled her close and began to waltz. “She received quite the surprise, I’m sure.”

“Imagine thinking you were going to be the one to strike the World’s Most Eligible Bachelor off that list.”

He smirked. “She did. Nine months later, and not in the way she might have wanted it to go.”

“Having to be saddled with a brother…what’s so funny?”

The waltz had now been taken out into the foyer.

“Damien and I used to have lots of talks after I found out who I was. I asked him about Peter…what he was like.”

“Huh.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Why would I?”

“Fair point. I asked Damien how he would have fit in with us.”

“He wouldn’t have.”

“You’re getting ahead, sister dear.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s what he said. You never would have abided someone so dull and ordinary…not to mention stupid. Even before you knew who you were, Damien guessed that one night he would have come home from work to find that you had fed him to the dogs. Once you knew who you were…he would have been the first victim on the slab downstairs. He told me Peter wouldn’t have lasted long once I knew who I was, either.”

“Our daddy is very smart.”

The dance had been taken up the stairs, and while Xander had tried to lead her into the hall that led to their part of the house, he felt her as she turned him so that they continued on until they stopped at their father’s door. He took her right hand and spun her into the spacious and gorgeously decorated bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“A lovely day spent in the country. Good food. Excellent wine. Magnificent company.  And a now fortuitous and unforeseen dip into muddy waters.”

“A warm shower, a hot toddy, a blazing fire. Someone thought that they were going to get very lucky.”

Xander removed all of his clothes but stripped his sister down to her bra and panties. He put his arm around her waist and danced her to the foot and the bed.

“I think we were the lucky ones; we got to watch it.”

He backed her up until the back of her legs hit the bed.

“Delia Thorn, does the thought that we came into the world because our father viciously raped our mother turn you on?”

He was on all fours, moving up the bed, as she crawled backwards until he had nowhere to go since she had stopped at the headboard.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, it turns me on thinking that the way we came into this world was that our father viciously raped our mother.”

“Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want to be a sinful child on my own. I’m going to tell you with words what I showed you. Would you like that?

“Yes, please.”

“What an obedient girl you are right now. And there are three rules you need to follow for me to tell the story from start to finish.”

“I’m listening.”

He reached out and spread her legs apart. “The panties stay on, and your legs remain open. I want to watch as you repeatedly drench them…not to mention, we only have a limited number of comforters for us to use. Shit.”

“Jerk.”

She had kicked him, but she went back to her legs open wide, her feet firmly planted on the bed.

“Next, you will not orgasm. Not by using your hands, or clenching your thighs, or using your perverted mind to get you off. Clear?”

“If your story is worthy…”

“Lastly, when we start fucking, you will wait to come until I tell you.”

“We’ll see...”

“I’d really like to see those gorgeous tits of yours.”

“No please? How rude.”

“Please.”

She slowly reached around her back and unhooked the bra, pulled it down her arms and tossed it on the floor. She arranged the pillows behind her, and lay back against the headboard, her hands cupping her breasts, kneading them, her thumbs playing with her hardened nipples.

“Very nice.” He settled on his haunches between her legs. “I’ve lost track…ah, yes. Once upon a time, there was a woman named Kate Reynolds. She was a journalist who lived in England. While she was being successful at her job at the BBC, Damien Thorn, President and CEO of Thorn Industries, was named Ambassador to Great Britain. He threw a party at his residence, and Kate, being a studious journalist, was in attendance, with every intention of scoring an interview with the youngest Ambassador ever appointed to the post.

“Now, it turns out, Kate had a son named Peter, and he knew that Damien held beliefs about young people and how they needed to be more involved in politics and the world.”

“More story time?”

“Delia, darling, I fully anticipate my cock being ridden to exhaustion with my little verbal excursion to the past just in regard to Kate.”

He watched her move forward, on all fours, and lift up her head to meet his.

“Fuck…Delia…”

“Please…”

She gnashed her teeth by his right ear, nipping his shoulder with her teeth.

“Let your brother get this through this, and I’ll come up with the tale of how Peter gave his life saving our father by being a human meat shield. I promise.” He crossed his heart, and she resumed her position, languidly reclining against the headboard, her legs opened wide, her left hand on her left breast.

He really was losing track, and he wanted nothing more than to abandon the story, rip off her panties and fuck her now. But she’d make him get himself off because he had given up.

“Well, she got her wish and soon, the pair of them sat in a BBC studio, with Damien filling her in on what she had already heard from her son, when, there was a horrible accident. A man, who turned out to be a nasty priest, had attempted to kill Damien, but had instead died in the attempt.

Delia applauded.

“I concur. Damien later offered her the opportunity to interview him again.  This time, at his residence…and to bring her son. Now, why, you may ask, did some nasty old priest want to kill Damien Thorn. It turns out, Damien Thorn was the Antichrist and being alive made some people, very jealous people, very cross.

“Kate didn’t know about Damien, but the more time she spent with him, she began to realize that she was falling in love with him. Though, who could blame her. While she had no clue who he was, her son did, and Damien had Peter doing all kinds of things to help him with the destruction of the nazarene, who was supposed to be born very shortly, which is why Damien had taken the job of Ambassador to begin with.”

“Boo.”

“Again, I concur.”

“Well, Kate again accepted an invitation to spend time with Damien at his house…this time, sans Peter.  They had a lovely lunch, and a walk about the property, when Kate took a tumble over a wooden railing into the creek below. The jury is still out on whether Damien pushed her.

“I say yes.”

“Then yes, it is. He took her back to the house, where she took a shower to clean up. I can only imagine how much she was looking forward to what was going to be, in her mind, a lovely evening of lovemaking and a wonderful morning with a scrumptious breakfast.”

Delia giggled.

“Stay with me and don’t get ahead.”  He began to gently move his fingertips up and down her thighs.

“And it began…very boringly, might I add. I don’t think we inherited our libidos from our mother. The lack of effort on our father’s behalf was quite surprising. Though, he was trying to make babies in case he didn’t make it, and we’re not going to dwell on something that sad. However, Damien Thorn, who definitely marches to the beat of his own drum, stopped the proceedings.

“‘Why are you stopping?’”

“But he didn’t answer her.”

“‘Hey…’”

“‘Want to see what I see?’”

“‘I want you.’”

“‘Birth is pain; death is pain; beauty is pain.’”

“And with that, he grabbed her by the wrist and turned her over, so she was now on her stomach. Now.”  He grabbed Delia by the ankles and pulled her forward so that now she was lying on her back. He had given her enough warning so that she moved up and didn’t hit herself on the headboard. “If she wasn’t sure what was going on when he stopped, she might have had some idea that things were going to go badly for her…she just had no clue how badly.”

He ran his hands up the outside of her thighs and grabbed the panties and pulled them down and off.

“Good thing we kept them on. You’d have soaked the mattress and no kicking. But that’s okay. I’m hard as a rock and I think we can find a way to relieve our body parts. Legs wide. Your thighs are so slick. Staying inside of you will prove quite the task.”

“Xander…”

“Now, we both know there are women he’s been with who lived to tell the tale and walked away, pain free. No lovemaking involved, but I’m sure skin was left on sheets. They fucked; parted ways; and a good time was had by all.” He smiled. “Not tonight. With one thrust he was inside of her.”

He entered Delia and she let out a gasp and clutched the sheets. She began eagerly moving her hips to meet his thrusts.

“What an absolute whore of a sister I have. Remember…when I say.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he kissed her nose.

“And was fucking her…except…it probably took only a few seconds until she realized that he wasn’t in her cunt, but in her ass…unlubricated, might I add. Must have hurt like fuck.”

“‘It doesn’t matter whether you enjoy this or not. However, if you keep crying, I might just decide that I really like it when you cry. During our time together, I will ask you to do things and if you want to see Peter alive again, you will do them without question. Am I clear?’

“And if he had been holding back before, he wasn’t now. He was fucking her with all the determination of a runaway freight train…his thrusting forcing her face into the pillow. Up on his hands, driving himself into her. And, as we discovered, it feels very good when I pull out and go back in. Doesn’t it?”

And he did it, pulled out of her, her hips rising up to meet his cock as he slid back in. Delia cried out, holding him tighter against her, using every bit of strength she could muster to bring him as close to her as possible. Meeting his thrusts with her own. She bit his shoulder. Hard.

He lowered his head so that his mouth was by her right ear. “What a wicked, wicked daughter. So aroused,” he whispered it. “So obviously enjoying listening to how our father raped our mother.”

He was employing everything that she had taught him and everything that he had learned on his own to keep himself from coming. But her…she was simultaneously pushing and pulling him and toward and away from her. For a very brief second he thought she was trying to bring everything to a stop, but he realized she was so overwhelmed with her own sexual desires and feelings. He thought he had seen her overcome with sexual frenzy before, but he had no clue just how lost she could be.

“Dear Satan, you look divine right now.

“Damien kept pulling out and thrusting back in. Kate was screaming and the more she screamed the more it drove him on. My harlot of a sister is smart enough to know when I want her to come.”

“I hold back from coming because it prolongs your pleasure. He stopped himself from coming to prolong her pain…he wanted that orgasm to be exquisite…just like the one you are about to have.

“He had been a taut wire, but now, he unwound, and he howled his pleasure as his orgasm tore through him…thrusting not stopping…taking all her pain and agony and making it his own.”

Delia too had screamed as her orgasm possessed her, but it was a scream of absolute pleasure. He didn’t stop. She’d keep taking and taking until she would shake with release and collapse beneath him, too drained to do much of anything but hold him and allow herself to be held.

“He’s a champ. Can’t make a baby where his cock was so, he pulled out, got up onto his haunches and he rolled her over. He was hard. He picked up her legs and put them on his shoulders so he could look her in the eye as he fucked her. And he did, unceremoniously driving into her cunt with all he was worth.

“Wanted to look her in the eyes, because while the anal sex must have hurt like Hell, she was safe from becoming with child…not anymore.”

Delia was beyond the ability to communicate, but he kept going because she was listening. If not consciously, then her brain was remembering what he was saying, and it would later play it back for her. Anything that felt like he was shortchanging the story, she would know and hold him accountable.

“He called her all manner of vile names. Names I won’t repeat because I will not have my sister thinking for a moment that those names are aimed at her. I call you a whore, a slut, a harlot because I am those things.” He lowered his head and kissed her forehead.

He was fairly certainly she was now reaching for the final orgasm she could manage.

“He didn’t hurt her…badly. She was, ideally, going to be pregnant and even though he might have wanted to inflict more damage, he didn’t dare. But he was rough…made sure that she would be marked…her back where he repeatedly bit her joined bruises from pushing her into the bed…bruises on her sternum because he yanked her out of bed and fucked her up against that bedpost right there.” He pointed to one that was to his right and at the back.

“Made her kneel while he shoved his cock down her throat. I’m going to guess she didn’t win any awards for giving head, because she kept gagging and my, my, my, how Damien had to hold her mouth shut so she’d swallow. How rude to want to spit out the Antichrist’s seed. He made her pay for that, too.

“On and on it went. He used every orifice in her body for his pleasure, always making certain to repeatedly vaginally violate her so that she’d get pregnant.

“It was still dark when he left her in the bed. He went to the Chapel because while he normally would have wanted to watch her be utterly demoralized and shamed, he was facing down the barrel of his own mortality and that’s likely to take the fun out of anything.

“Nine months later…the nazarene a lie; Peter murdered; Kate dying in childbirth to bring us into the world; Damien not only unharmed, but better than ever. But, most importantly, Satan, the true God, proved himself to be superior to the so-called god and his miserable son.

“The End…for now.”

She tapped his chest with her index finger, and he took her meaning and spent himself.

His orgasm was underwhelming. He hadn’t experienced that since his very early days of learning to control himself. Like he had moved past it. He smiled. He had a feeling that he was going to, very shortly, get a chance to recover himself and go again.

He leaned down and took her left nipple in his mouth, sucking and then let go. He kissed her breast.

“Don’t hate me.”

He pulled out of her and went into their father’s bathroom and used his glass to fill it with cold water. He brought it back out and she was sitting up.

“Drink.”

She greedily gulped back the water, handing him the glass once she was done.

“More, please.”

He did as he was told and when he returned, she took the glass and drank it all, but less hurriedly. He sat beside her.

“Can we spend tonight in here?”

She put her head against his arm. “That we can. I don’t want to leave, either. Do you want something from downstairs? Food? Something else to drink?”

She shook her head no and she lay back, bringing him with her. They were on their sides, her leg over his right thigh.

“What a wicked, wicked son for getting so hard, obviously enjoying describing our father raping our mother.”

She stretched like a contented cat.

“I do so love being wicked, especially with you. Do we want to move on to Peter, or are we staying with the current story?”

“Mmm, our current one, please.”

“I’m rather fond of it myself. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“You didn’t have much of an orgasm.” She reached over and kissed him.

“That’ll fix itself once we go again.” He returned the kiss. “I’ll make us something to eat later. We’ll have to go down at some point and feed the dogs.”

“Order food. Making food takes away from all of this.”

“I think that qualifies as a plan.”

“I think a palate cleansing fuck is what we need. Think of something else so that the story stays fresh in here.”

She tapped the side of his head.

He looked at her. At the end of the day, she was all he needed. Everything else was just sprinkles. He nuzzled into her neck, biting her.

“You like bruises…” he whispered it into her ear.

“From you…yes…teeth marks…bruises…signs that you’ve been there and tasted me. Though let’s leave the blood…it’s a little much right now.”

“We have all night.”

They lay wrapped in each other’s arms…there was calm, peace, and tranquility. The smell of her, the feel and taste of her skin. Their mouths met and they kissed, their tongues mingling, swallowing each other’s spit. His right hand roamed her body…the curve of her hip, the roundness of her ass. He ran his hand down the length of her leg, as far as he could get. He cupped her breast and kissed it. They breathed each other, and after a time, he could feel himself get hard.

“Fuck me. Ride me and make sure to be loud when you come. Don’t worry about me. Just worry about yourself.”

She lay on her back, and he entered her with a grunt.

“My beautiful brother.”

He began thrusting and while he didn’t want to wait as long as last time, he didn’t want to come right away.

“Fuck me. Feel how drenched I am? That’s all you. Every time I think of you inside me. Taste me.”

She had reached down between her legs and when she brought them back up, they were sticky with her wetness. He sucked and licked until her fingers were clean. He lowered his head to reach her breast, once again taking her nipple into his mouth…tugging, biting as hard as he dared. He switched breasts and got himself up onto his arms so he could watch her.

“Ride me hard, Xander. I do so like to be ridden hard. Make me feel it. Make me your whore. Your harlot.”

“Delia…”

He was aware that she was using up a goodly amount of energy and accepted that after he came, there would be a trip downstairs for sustenance. He’d bring water upstairs for later.

“Good boy. Such a good and helpful brother Satan gifted me. You feel so good inside me.”

He could feel her orgasm build. He did not share in it, if only to watch her enjoy herself.

“Fuck...”

She kept going and she came again and pulled him closer to her.

“I want loud. Make me know you love fucking me.”

She wrapped her legs around his thighs, and he bore down into her, driving her into the bed. He didn’t bother with words, but he let every grunt and groan leave his lips.

“Harder. Be the whore you claim to be, little brother.”

He could feel her tighten herself around his cock and he let go.

“Delia!”

“Don’t you dare stop.”

He kept going. If he wasn’t vocal, he usually kept his efforts to heavy breathing. Now, every noise he felt like making, he made. He rode it out and eventually the pleasure that had possessed him ebbed away and left his body.

“Thank-you, Satan, for my beautiful sister. I’d have a very tired wrist and arm if it wasn’t for her. Now, we need something more than water. We’re going to decide where we are going to order from and bring beverages back up here.”

He got off of her, held out his hand, and helped her out of bed.

“I think I need to pee.”

He sat as she went to the bathroom and stood as he heard the water run and then shut off. She came out but stopped at the one of the bedposts…the one where she had seen Damien take Kate. He joined her.

“I think someone is going to get thoroughly railed against this bedpost. Would she like that?”

She held on to the post, leaned forward, and stuck her ass out. “Yes, please. Although…”

He watched as she straightened up.

“Yes?”

“Damien didn’t need any down time after he came.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say the good graces that I’ve built up with you are gone and you’re back to being the proverbial pain in my ass? Telling me I can’t get it up. I should put you over my knee and spank you.”

“You have to earn those good graces again.”

“Of course. How silly of me.”

“And, you have a very special way of earning it so that it may just carry over into tomorrow.”

“Do tell.”

“We’ve yet to…huh…do a word that means to do something first…in a very special room in this house. I refuse to use the “c” word.”

“Satanize? Does that sound like a word?”

“I like it. We’ve yet to Satanize a very special room in this house.”

“Can I be truthful?”

“Always.”

“I’ve thought about it. Making love in the Chapel. It needs to be special. We need to have only…thoughts of Him while we’re in the room…how grateful we are for the life He gave us…for Damien’s life. We’re in kind of a different headspace right now. We will. Before Damien comes back from Japan. I promise.” He crossed her heart.

“You’ve got some of those good graces back.”

“I say we throw on some clothes, let the dogs out, feed them, and call Chan’s, if you’re in. We can heat everything thing up later. And make sure we bring water back up with us. And some healthy snacks. I want to make sure you’re taken care of. Can’t have you lightheaded or passing out while I’m fucking you against that bedpost.”

They were waiting for the food delivery and both of them repeatedly apologized to the dogs about leaving them alone.

“We promise, you have us all day tomorrow, okay?”

“No office?” He gasped in fake horror.

“The babies need attention.”

They were waiting on the stairs.

“Delia, can I ask you something?”

“Sex related?”

“Of course.”

“Mmm…continue.”

“We’ve yet to try anal sex. Is that something you want to incorporate into tonight’s festivities?”

“We don’t have lubrication. I don’t want to risk oil soaking through the blankets or staining anything.”

“Is it something you want to do before Damien comes back?”

“There’s no rush. We’ve only just started having intercourse. Lots of time for us to do many things.”

He looked across at her while she pet her dog. The thought that he’d have to be married to someone else, even without sex, made him ill inside. She sat back.

“You’re not tired of my lady parts already, are you?”

“Not even as a joke. I need to nail you, in your…lady parts, in every single room of this house before father gets back. I want my sister happy; I want my sister satisfied; I want my sister to explore every facet of her sexuality and wants and desires.”

She sat smiling at him.

“You’re already picturing bending me over the dining room table, aren’t you?”

“Let’s see who better takes it up the ass, shall we? And I will be taking your taking virginity first. I like it when you call me a harlot.”

“More than whore?”

“I enjoy whore, but harlot drenches my panties.”

“Harlot it is.”

The food arrived and they put it in glass dishes and left it in the oven to cool. The dogs were obedient, but they didn’t want them trying to take the food and end up with broken glass on the floor. They loaded up a bag with bottles of sparking and still water and Coke, and while she ran those upstairs, he put together a plate for her…veggies, crackers, hummus, cheese, roasted chicken…food high in protein so that she wouldn’t feel lighted headed. He covered it and brought it upstairs and back to their father’s room and put it down on the dresser.

It was then that he noticed that under her white T-shirt, she had on a black lace bra with, no doubt, a matching pair of black lace panties. When she meant again, she meant all over again.

“You left things out, naughty boy, and I want more graphic descriptions of the rape. You also left out my oral sex. My cunt will take it personally.”

“And I plan to watch you get yourself off. Don’t worry. All the time we were down there, I was starting from scratch. What am I? An amateur sadist?”

“I want to hear those names, Xander. I want to feel her pain; I want to feel his pleasure.”

He took her in his arms and the dance began again.

“I shall show our mother no mercy.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the box that held the finger blade.

“My beautiful sister also wants blood.”

“I want to taste you.”

“And so you shall. Are you in a donating mood?”

“Wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“Since when do you care about fair?”

He stopped and slowly pulled down the zipper on her shorts and undid the button.

“Very true, but I like tasting me on your lips, and for right now, I care.”

Her shorts pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of them.  Apparently, the T-shirt, for now, was staying on. She crawled forward on the bed and righted herself, once again taking up a position at the headboard.

“My sister was such a very good girl the first time. Did everything I asked. Will I get another cooperative harlot this time around?”

“We’ll see.”

Her right hand was between her legs, though on top of her panties, her fingertips gently caressing herself, making tiny circles over the black material, no doubt applying pressure to that delicate bump of hers.

“My panties are already drenched. I am wondering, however, what story my brother has kept hidden from me for all this time.”

“I see.”

Maybe the next time she’d play it as if she’d already heard it and was anticipating what he would say. But for now…he stopped.

“What is it?”

“Is it terribly repetitive of me if I tell you I love you and I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Never. You’re my heart, Xander. I’d rather be dead than live a fraction of second without you.”

“Always and forever, Chevalier.”

“Forever and always, Madame. Where were we? My sister and her drenched cunt are such a distraction. Keep your legs open please, and no orgasming, not with any body part, including your filthy mind. Once I start fucking you, you will wait to come. Agreed?”

“We’ll see.”

“A story, and like all good stories, this one begins with once upon a time…”

Chapter Text

“Is it bigger than a bread box?” Xander crossed his fingers.

“Are you serious? Yes.” 

“Then it must be my cock.”

Delia laughed. “It’s not your cock; trust me, I know.”

“Now that’s just deflating to my fragile male ego, Deedle. Your supposed to tell me how big I am and how I get you all hot and bothered.”’

She snorted. “Yeah, you’re bothering me alright.”

“If you don’t stop mocking me, I’m taking my ball and going home.”

“You are home, and I don’t think you’re going anywhere.” She reached down and kneaded him, making him moan. “Besides, you can’t leave, there’s a game going on.” She propped herself up on her left elbow. “You had two more questions, and I can’t believe you wasted one of them asking if a person was bigger than a bread box.”  

They were playing twenty questions to get Delia’s clothes off. He was naked, but she still had on her panties.

“What if it were a baby. A baby is bigger than a bread box...maybe?”  

“Nice try. You get two more questions. One correct guess.” She held up her index finger to emphasize the simplicity of his task. “And I am naked, and you fuck me all night long. Fail, and it’s you and your trusty right hand. You do want me, don’t you?” She pouted. “I don’t think you’re trying very hard.” 

“Believe me, hard is on my mind. Two more guesses?” 

“Yes, because the one about it being your cock doesn’t count. I’m generous like that.” 

“Can I ask a question that’s not a guess?” 

“Go for it.”

“There’s a real person at the end of it, right?” 

“Yes. You know, the more time you take to guess, the less time for us to have screaming sex.” 

“Shh, I’m thinking.” He had closed his eyes.

“Sorry, you need all the help that you can get so...” She lay back down and left him alone.

It was five minutes of silence until he sat up, a huge grin on his face.

“I’ve got it!

“Who is it?”

“It’s you!”  

She burst into laughter. “I’ll take that as an acceptable response. Yay, Xander!” 

“Yay me, indeed.” He knelt in front of her and then he picked her legs so that they were now resting vertically against his chest. “I believe you mentioned something about screaming sex?” 

“Did I?” 

“You did and I am nothing if not a cooperative brother.” He reached down and pulled up her panties, slowly working them up her thighs, to her knees, then her calves and then her ankles until he got them off her and then he tossed them on the floor.

“There really was someone, but would you have still had sex if I had pretended?” She moved her right foot and touched his nose with her big toe.

He laughed. “Yes, but you would have been very naughty.” He kissed her foot.

“I don’t think that’s what I would have been.” 

“No? What do you think that you would have been?” He wrapped his hands around her ankles.

“I would have been a bitch; aren’t I a bitch, Alexander?” 

“You’re my bitch, Delia.”  He licked up her calf. “You know, when animals have sex for breeding reasons there is a word that means that.”

“That means what?” She batted her eyes at him.

“When animals engage in sexual activity to make other little animals. Do you know that word is?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“And what is that word, Ms. Thorn?” 

“Copulate.” 

“Brava.” 

“But animals aren’t the only ones who copulate just to make little animals.” 

“No?” 

“No, sometimes other...beings copulate.” She crossed her arms behind her head.

“Such as?” 

“Well, when Satan needed to make a child, He possessed a male jackal so He could copulate with a female to make his offspring.” 

“Very good.”

“Then there’s what Damien...”

“Absolutely no going off on a mental tangent and thinking about what father did to her to get us here. This is my show, and I’ll run it the way that I want. But not us. While I would love to make a little animal with you, I would never...sexually interfere with you solely for procreative purposes.” 

She regarded him through half closed eyes, running her hands over her breasts and down her stomach and finally between her legs. She bucked up her hips to meet her hand.

“Is my bitch in heat?”  

"Mmm..."

“I like that noise, but it hardly answers the question that I asked. It’s rude not to answer someone when he asks you a question.” 

“Yes...please...I want...”  

“You’re the one stopping yourself from coming…though there’s a thought and something to keep in mind for later. I’m glad my bitch wants it and I’m going to give her exactly what she wants. I’m generous like that.” 

She kept her hands between her legs, and she smiled at him. “Copulate.” 

“You, Madame, are asking for it.” 

“Always, Chevalier.  Are you my dog?” 

“Always.”  

He lowered his head and kissed her between her breasts, kissing his way to her left nipple taking it into his mouth, sucking at the puckered flesh, and letting his teeth graze against the delicate skin.

She wrapped her finger around strands of his hair. “You know, there is a way we’re both still virgins…”

He raised his head, giving her a stern look. “You, Delia Thorn, are an absolute slut. An unreformable harlot to whom I shall have to administer a moral corrective, lest you go straight to Hell when you die. Of course, if you fuck me up the ass, I’ll be ruined. No respectable woman will want me.” 

“Lucky for you, your sister is neither respectable, nor a woman.”  

“Damn straight lucky for me.” He grabbed her legs as she tried to make her escape from the other side of the bed. He dragged her towards him, with her giggling all the way.

“Are you going to administer a moral corrective now?” 

Xander snorted. “Forget that. You’re right; we’re both incorrigible sluts. Nothing to do but be incorrigible sluts together.”  

He ran his hands along the outside of her thighs, enjoying the feeling of her skin beneath his hands. He almost wished that her panties were still on so he could enjoy pulling them down her thighs, slowly spreading her legs apart and getting the view of her, just like he did the first time he had seen her completely naked.

For now, she was sitting up, watching him touch her. It was futile to tell her to lie back, she would do so in her own time, and truth be told, he liked her watching him. He reached out and kissed her, and she kissed him back, her mouth brushing his cheek as she pulled away and sat back.

He moved his hands so they were on the inside of her thighs. He smiled and reached up and touched her, lightly brushing his hand across the most intimate part of his sister.

“You’re so wet right now, Deedle. Do you have any idea how much I like watching you get aroused? I like knowing that you’re enjoying yourself.”

She spread her legs apart further and he leaned down and began kissing his way up, up, up until he reached her cunt. He spread her lips apart, delving into her with his tongue, tasting the wetness there. He kissed her right thigh.

“So beautiful. Every inch of you makes me want you.” 

“And every inch of you makes me want you.” 

He laughed as he put two fingers inside of her, his thumb gently rubbing her bump. “You just want me for my prick.” 

“What utter nonsense. I also want you for you mouth and your hands and fingers as well.”  She groaned. “Xander...”

“What about my incredibly dirty mind that knows what to do with my fingers?” 

“Fuck.” She squirmed. “I like your dirty mind, too. I like your dirty mouth, Xander. It says and does the dirtiest things.” 

He lowered his head again and he heard her moan and giggle.

“Xander.” She pressed her ass into the bed, she could feel his mouth on her. It felt too good to sit up any longer, so she succumbed to his pleasuring of her and lay down, her arms above her head.

She reached out to him; he reached out to her and she felt his enjoyment and it warmed her. She had no idea how...people did this. What a cold and empty act it must be for them, not being able to feel their lover, their partner.

He was kissing her thighs, licking, his mouth everywhere until she couldn’t be sure where he was until...she groaned, and her hips shot up. Her tiny ruby was in his mouth, and he was sucking.

They had been doing sexual things to each other since they were twelve, she was no novice to his touch, but it never failed to surprise her how anything could be this good, the feeling that she’d die if she couldn’t get sexual release.

She ran her fingers through his hair, her thumb brushing against his mark and soon, he was kissing his way up and then he was kneeling between her legs.

“May I?” 

“Yes, please.”  

And then he was inside of her. He was up on his hands, looking down at her. She ran her hand over his chest.

“What are we going to do once you get married?”

“Keep right on fucking each other, sugar.” 

“But it won’t be the same.” 

“I know, but we’ll make it work. You’ll have a house, and there’ll be sex at the office, plus she’ll be going away for vacations.” He felt her mood shift.

“It was easier to agree to all that before we started this. I want you inside of me all the time.”

This was getting too serious. He lowered his head and moved his mouth to her ear. “So, you like fucking your brother, do you?” He nibbled her earlobe and then looked at her.

“Does that make me naughty?”

“It most definitely does. Only the dirtiest and naughtiest pups like to fuck their brothers.”

“Yummy. I like being dirty and naughty. Much more fun than being good and pure. Do you like fucking your sister?” 

“All day, everyday. I hope it makes me dirty and naughty, too.” 

“Very.”

“I like fucking my sister so much, I wish I had two of them.” 

“None of us would ever leave the house.” Then, she had an idea. “Oh, Xander...what if we had a sister and she wasn’t like us in the least little bit.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“Well, what if unlike us, she was terribly submissive and just could get enough pain and humiliation.”

“Go on...” 

“We could still have our other game downstairs, the one that people don’t come back from, but we could have our game with her.” 

“Younger than us, maybe by a few years. The epitome of grace and lady like behaviour, demure, sweet, quiet.” 

She gave his ass a hard smack. “And I’m none of those things?” 

“No, and for various reason, Damien and I are both glad that you’re not.”   

“What’s her name?” 

“Justine.” 

“You, Chevalier, are wicked.”

“Merci, Madame. You next.” 

“We’d have a playroom somewhere, filled with whips and floggers and riding crops and handcuffs and a bed where we fucked afterwards. Sometimes it would be all three of us, but sometimes we’d make her watch; it would drive her mad.

“Just think of all the games that we could play with her. Like pretending that she’s someone staying with us for a visit and then we seduce her, and it turns out that she likes to be whipped and humiliated. Or that she’s our whore, and we paid for her services, and she has to do whatever we want. Or she’s the daughter of the new neighbour that’s moved in across the street and we eventually get her in our playroom and find out what kind of girl she really is.” She bit his shoulder.

“The first one. We try to seduce her, during which, she keeps telling us what a good girl she is, that she doesn’t do bad things, but after a certain amount of time has passed, we get her to admit being the slut and the whore that she is.” 

“What about Damien?” 

“What about him?” 

“Now he has three children who fuck each other. That’s no fair for him.” 

“Well, since we’re imagining this perfect little sister for us, then he has a lovely wife, and they can fuck each other ‘til their hearts content.” 

“I’m sad that I don’t have this.”  

“Aw, poor Deedle. May I offer a compromise?” 

“Of course.” 

He had been gently thrusting against her the whole time and he could feel his own, as well as her, desire to begin, in earnest, the night’s activity.

“The sexual attention of your sole brother?” 

She sent a wave of love to him and reached up and touched his face. “You’re no compromise.”

He reared up above her, grinding himself against her little bump, knowing that she would take as long as she would take to bring herself to orgasm, and that was more than alright with him. He loved her and whatever she wanted, she got.

He liked the feeling of her hands on his body, but more than that, he loved watching her. Knowing that she was happy and that what he was doing pleased her. He had never considered her pleasure his; for him, it has always been about facilitating his sister’s enjoyment of the experience. He smiled as he looked down on her. She had always been an adventurous and willing lover, and he had been fortunate enough to come along for the ride.

“Is Delia’s mind all a-flutter thinking of our new sister?” 

She sighed. “Xander...how much fun we would have.” 

“That we would. I can imagine you...a riding crop in your hand as our lovely Justine is tied to a post and naked as the day she was born. With a crack, your riding crop comes down on her lovely, taut ass. She lets out a moan. She likes it...she loves it. We are her Chevalier and her Madame, her beloved brother and sister under whose gentle, yet stern care, she comes to understand and enjoy her need for pain and pleasure.” 

H fucked her and as he did, he told her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her and wanted her. How she was the only one for him...his Deedle, his bitch, his lover, his wife, his sister...all these things she was to him and more.

He could feel that she had decided to give herself over to her pleasure. She was enjoying herself and he could also tell that she hated it to come to an end. He smiled…the night is still young…

“Xander!”

She dug her nails into his back as her pleasure washed over her and devoured her in its wake. But he didn’t stop. He knew that her next orgasm was building itself anew. He helped her, giving and taking whatever she needed for her moment of enjoyment. She panted and held him tightly to her and she came again.

“Does my sister have one more in her?”

She nuzzled into his neck. “Your turn.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

She watched as he moved his legs to the outside of hers and began thrusting harder.

“You feel so good inside of me.” 

She smiled as he buried his face into her neck. She could have him fucking her all night...the feeling of him inside her, the weight of him on top of her. She loved everything about being with him, but now that they were having actual sexual intercourse, the one thing that she wanted more than anything was to be pregnant.

They hadn’t stopped reaching out to one another while they had been making love. They had learned over the years to not let what each was feeling overwhelm the other. To turn it up or down, depending on what they wanted to do. Of course, she smiled, sometimes overwhelming the other was the point.

“Xander. That’s it. What a delicious brother I have. Our sister would be lucky to have him,” she whispered into his ear.

He was up on his hands, driving himself into her as she wrapped her legs around his thighs.

“Delia!”

She pulled him as close to her as she could, feeling his body as his orgasm possessed and he rode out every ounce of his pleasure until she could tell he was done.

“Delia…” He kissed her neck. “Thank you, Satan, for my beautiful sister...” 

He collapsed onto her, and she kissed his temple. “Thank-you Satan, indeed, for my beautiful brother.” 

He sighed with contentment. “I have a feeling that the sudden appearance of our sister will prove to be a very popular topic of discussion for the rest of the evening.” 

“I’m okay with that.” 

He pulled out of her and lay beside her. “In that case, it’s going to be a long night. We may just have to stay up past our bedtime.”  

“I’m up for it. Are you?” She sat up.

“I will be...in about twenty minutes.” 

“I wonder what kinds of things I can talk about to help my brother.” 

“Dirty things, Delia. Incredibly dirty, naughty, sexy things.” 

“We can begin with the very first time we discover the kinds of things our sister likes to get up to.”

 “We’ll take turns, like earlier. I’ll start.”

She put a hand over her grumbling stomach.

“Looks like we take a break while I feed my sister. I could use a bite to eat, too.” 

They jumped out of bed and threw on some shorts and T-shirts.

“The first one in the kitchen picks what we eat.” 

She took off like a shot down the stairs, he could hear one of the dogs barking, and with a smile, he followed her.

...666...  

Damien walked into the house and closed and locked the door behind him. “Hello?”

Moments later, Delia’s head came out of the study.

“No hello.”

“No?” 

She came over to her father. “No, you’re supposed to be home three hours from now. We were going to have dinner ready, or least on the go, and a drink ready for you…bad Damien.” She slapped him on the arm and then threw her arms around him.

“I thought I’d stave off the inevitable pushing, shoving and attempting to lock siblings inside the house to get to me first crap that usually accompanies my return home.” He hugged her back and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Damien’s dog made his way over to and gave his Master a much more reserved welcome than either Delia or Xander usually received from their dogs.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m glad your home! Kon’nichiwa, Damien-sama. How was the Land of the Rising Sun?” 

“Ohayo, Delia-san. Very good, thank-you.”

“Did you do anything else apart from business?” 

“Yes…where’s your brother?” 

“Oh, sure, where’s the boy, nice. Xander, father is home!” 

However, he had already known of Damien’s arrival and soon he sauntered down the stairs, but came over to his sister, ignoring their father.

“I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken because father is not supposed to be home for three more hours so we can begin cooking dinner and have a drink ready for him when he walks in the door like the dutiful children that we are.” 

“Hello to you, too.”

He hugged his father, and he could feel his father hug him back. “Are those going upstairs?” He pointed to the luggage.

“Yes, but don’t open anything.”

He grabbed what he could and began taking it up to his father’s room, which would take two trips.

She slipped her arm inside her father’s and lead him to the study. Damien sat on the couch, and she went to the bar and poured a whiskey for her father. She handed the drink to him and then sat beside him on the sofa. “So, spill, what did you do?”

He lifted the glass to her. “Thank-you.” He took a drink. “Let’s see…visited Mount Fuji…went to the Shinjuku Gyoen, enjoyed some fine dining…”

“Anything culturally fun?” 

“I got to see a production of Yoshitsune Senbon Zakura.” 

“Kabuki! Father, I’m jealous. It wasn’t the full production, was it?”

He had taken them many places, but the Thorns as a family hadn’t yet made it to Japan.

“No, but it was very good. Someone walked on my back.” 

She laughed. “Damien went native. Did it do anything?”

“Not that I could feel, but then, I didn’t have a bad back.” 

They chatted until Xander came downstairs and took a seat on the other side of Damien.

“So, what did I miss?”

“Father paid a woman for sex.” 

“Okay, now I know you’re making that up. What woman would have to be paid to fuck Damien Thorn when there are women that would pay him for that privilege?”  

“There was no sex and no paying. I said that someone had walked on my back.” 

He looked at his sister. “Oh, now I get it.” 

“Get what?” Damien took a drink and looked at his son.

“You went to Japan for weird sex, we understand. But we think that you are ignoring the larger more pressing issue at hand.” 

“Which would be?”   

“Presents!” 

They leapt on their father.

“And what makes you think that I would bring back anything for two such ill-behaved teenagers such as yourselves?” Damien handed his glass to Delia, grabbed Xander, and put him in a headlock.

“Please don’t cut of the blood flow to his brain. He suffers enough from stupidity, don’t exacerbate the problem.” Took a sip of the whisky she had poured for him.

“What’s been happening here?” He freed his son and gave him a clap on the back.  

“Nothing. We stopped by work nearly everyday.” 

Damien looked from one to the other, locking eyes with his daughter. “I thought I told both of you not to do that.” 

“It wasn’t always a full day and there’s really nothing you can do about now.” She smiled at him.

“Uh-huh. So, what are we doing for dinner?” 

“Well, if you are amenable to the idea, we want to stay here. I was going to BBQ...steaks, chicken, but if there’s something else you want, or if you want to go out...” 

Damien took his drink back from her and got up. “BBQ sounds excellent.” He made his way out into the foyer and to the stairs. “I thought you two wanted presents?”

They raced past him and once he made it to his room, both teens were lifting the bags, trying to guess what was inside.

“You know, both of your eighteenth birthdays are in six months. Don’t you want to wait until then?”

“I want mine now.”  With a pout, she looked up at her father.

“Delayed gratification is a sign of maturity.” 

“Is that the line we’re supposed to use on potential disciples, daddy-o? Follow Satan and become masters of delayed gratification?” Xander poked the bag with his finger, which was entirely not helpful.

“What I tell them is what I tell them and what I tell you two is what I tell you two and most times those things are different...smart ass.” 

Delia, who was now standing on her father’s bed, jumped in the air, and landed on her back. “I want presents!” 

Damien opened the largest suitcase and pulled out a box and handed it to her. “That’s for you.” He also handed a box to Xander.  

She sat up and carefully opened the box and brought out what was inside. “It’s a yukata! It’s beautiful.” She looked over at her brother, who had removed his yukata from the box. Hers was turquoise and decorated with cherry blossoms on the back, while her brother’s was plain navy blue.

“There are shoes in one of the other suitcases. When I get to them, you’ll get them.” 

“Domo arigato, Damien-sama.” Xander bowed to his father.

“My pleasure.” He also gave each of the children Noh masks representing demons.

“Subtle.” She held hers up against her face.

“I thought you two might like those. Now there’s one more present that I will save for your birthdays, but I saw these and I couldn’t resist.” Damien handed figurines to his children.

“Daddy, it’s Godzilla!” 

Delia and Xander turned their figurines on each other, each Godzilla trying to defeat the other.

Damien held out the third one and the children laughed. “I’ll keep mine here on my desk in the study.” 

“What about Cecile?” Xander conceded defeat to his sister’s Godzilla.

“I had Cecile’s kimono sent directly to her house so she didn’t have to wait for it, and I got her an ochoko set, which I will give to her tomorrow, and a bottle of sake.” 

“Can we help you with anything?” 

“I had my laundry and dry cleaning done before I left so I’ll just put all of my stuff away but thank-you.” Damien smiled at Xander.

“Is our other present in here?” As her brother had done earlier, she poked a bag with her finger to see if she could figure out what was inside, but it was as unhelpful for her as it had been for him.

“No.”

 “Or are you just saying that, so we won’t look?” She raised a suspicious eyebrow at her father.

“Take your pick. Okay, let me unpack please and I want to go up to the Chapel, so I’ll be down shortly.” 

...666...

They were in the kitchen preparing dinner when he eventually came down and took a seat at the island that divided the kitchen area from the dining area. “Need help?” 

“Don’t be silly. Why don’t you go watch television, or read? Did you want something to hold you over until dinner?”

She came over to him, and he put his arm around her waist. “A sandwich would be nice, but I’ll stay here and spend some time with you two since I haven’t seen you in over a week.” 

Xander went to work putting together a sandwich for his father and added some carrot sticks and chips to the plate and handed it to Damien, followed by a bottle of beer.

“Thank you. So, did anything exciting happen while I was away?” 

“Just a whole lot of nothing.” Delia stole a carrot from her father’s plate and gave it a chomp.

“I don’t know whether to feel threatened or reassured that my children did so well taking care of things.” With a smile, he took a bite of his sandwich.

She punched his arm. “Considering that I will be running Thorn one day, I hope you feel reassured. And just between us, there wasn’t really anything that needed taking care of.”

“We were kinda disappointed there wasn’t an actual emergency so that we could have sprung into action like a well-oiled machine.” Xander rubbed spices into the steaks.

“Well, I’m glad that there was no crisis, not the least of which is I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the other side of the planet while you were here. But I like that you have that kind of faith in your abilities...and I’m very reassured that the business will be going into very good hands one day.” 

Delia beamed at the compliment and continued to help her brother with dinner.

...666...  

When dinner was ready, they ate in the kitchen where their father shared more information about his trip. Besides the sake for Cecile, Damien had brought some home for himself and Delia and Alexander both enjoyed a small glass with their dinner.

“Anyone up for a movie?”

“D-man, that sounds great, but you must be exhausted.”

“Yes, but I can make it through a movie.”

The twins popped popcorn and brought soda and the three of them settled in the family room to spend some time together before they called it a night. Upstairs, after they had gone through their bedtime routines, they both went back downstairs to their father’s room. There, they found Damien in his pyjamas sitting and reading in bed.

“We just came in to say good night and to say that we’re glad that you’re back home.”

Xander sat on his father’s bed. It would have been next to impossible for anything to have happened to Damien while he had been gone, but he felt relief that his father had made it back safe and sound. “I guess we’re still the weird kids who like spending time with their dad.” 

“I’m glad you’re the weird kids who like spending time with their dad, otherwise he’d get lonely.”  

They chatted about some things that had gone on at work, but eventually the night came to and end.

“Goodnight, daddy-o, and I’ll see you at breakfast.”  

“I’m looking forward to Cecile’s cooking. Goodnight, most annoying child.” 

“Most annoying. Take that.” 

“You’re not going to get an argument out of me.”

He bowed to his father and left. Damien moved his reports, and she carefully jumped onto the bed beside her father, who put his arm around her neck and gave a playful squeeze.

“Does it bother you that I’m still physical with your brother?” 

“I understand. It’s not the same as when we were little, and you would wrestle with us on the floor. I’m a ‘woman’ now, it’s different.” 

He smiled. “Thank you for explaining it to me, but that’s not what I asked. I asked you if it bothers you.”

She shrugged. “A little.”

“I don’t treat you differently, do I?”  

“No, it’s just...” she shrugged again.

“For the rest of the summer, I am going to think of something that we can do together that’s physical, that’s not the old standby of horse back riding.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“Yes, I do. I’ll think of something, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Damien tightened the gripped around Delia’s neck and her elbow came back, attempting to hit him, but he moved out of the way. “There’s the other reason I don’t wrestle with you. I’m less likely to get a black-eye, broken ribs, or a bruised kidney from Xander than from you, but that’s okay. I like that my daughter can take care of herself, in more ways than one.”

“Why do they call it horseback riding, anyway?” She sat up.

“Goodnight, Delia.” He put a hand on her back, pushed her up and she stood.

“You can hardly ride the horse anywhere else.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“It seems like a bit of redundancy, name wise.” 

“Good night, most, most annoying child.”

She hugged her father. “Good night, I’m glad your home.” 

Damien hugged her back. “I am, too. I missed you both.”

“You know, I’d be far less annoying if I knew what my other present was.” She had made her way to the door and now had her hand on the doorknob.

“If I have to throw this pillow, you’ll get nothing.”  

“I think you mean if I have to throw this pillow, you won’t get anything...okay, I’m going.”  She left her father’s room and made her way to the other side of the house. She turned the corner, and there was Xander, waiting for her.

“An escort, how thoughtful.”

“Tired?” 

“Maybe.” She made a face.

“What?” 

“I guess I never noticed that before.” She jutted out her chin in front of her and as he turned around to see what she had motioned to, she attempted to duck past him to get to their room first. He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, and then put her down by the door.

“Xander, I don’t feel well.”

“What do you mean? Are you okay?”

She shook her head no.

“What’s wrong? Do you want me to get Damien?”

“It hurts.”

It took all of a second for him to catch on to what she was doing. She had leaned against their door, biting her lower lip.

“Show your brother where it hurts.”

“Here.”

She took his right hand and put it between her legs, and he began moving his hand against her and she gasped.

“Does that help?”

“Yes.”

He undid the button on her pants and pulled down the zipper. He slipped his hand inside, feeling the lacey material of her panties. He rubbed slightly harder, and she moved her hips to meet his hand.

“How ‘bout now?”

“Xander…”

“I hate to see my sister so…discomforted. Let’s go see if I can make her feel better.”

He took her hand and led them into the room that was technically his, but they shared. It allowed her to have her own space if she wanted it.

“It might take me awhile to figure out exactly what’s wrong.”

“I’m more than okay with that.”

He smiled as he shut the door behind them.

...666...  

Delia’s legs were wrapped around his thighs, his face buried into her neck. The night was done as Xander lay in her arms, the last of his orgasms subsiding. She kissed his shoulder.

“I’d fuck you forever, if I could,” he murmured.

“Not forever, Xander, just until you knocked me up.”  

“If it were up to me, you’d be pregnant right now.”

“Now?” 

“Yes, right now...when I just came.” 

“And how would you know that I was with child?”

“You’d know first, and you’d come to me, and as you stood there, I’d feel our baby…our daughter.”

“Would you still fuck me when I was pregnant?”

“Delia, we’d never leave the house because I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Xander...” 

“How many children this time, Deedle?” he whispered in her ear.

“Still nine.” 

“Five girls and four boys?” 

“Yes.”

“And still the same names?” 

“Yes.”

“I can see you, Delia. You’d have a great, big pregnant belly and breasts full of milk for our children. You’d be so beautiful. Not that you aren’t beautiful now.” 

He’d be Antichrist one day, and President of the United States, but it’s not what he cared about, or what he truly desired. All he wanted was to be Delia’s husband and father to their children. How simple their existences would be if they could be jackals living in Africa somewhere...hunting, copulating, raising pups, but he was more than happy being two-legged jackals with her in the life they had now.

“Delia?”

“I don’t want to stop talking about it. I want children. It’s what I want more than anything. Do you understand that?” 

“Nope. I’d be just the father. I don’t dare to presume that I understand anything about your desire to be a mother.”

“I’m happy for you, that you get to have a baby. I really am.” And she let him know that she indeed held no rancour in her heart for the fact that he would get to be a dad one day...just not with her.

“I don’t know what to say to make it better. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I used to want to work at Thorn more than anything and don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait until I walk in there as a paid employee, but...I’d give it all up to be a mother and stay home and look after our children. It would be a very long time before a human hand touched our babies. I’m almost eighteen. Why haven’t I started my period?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I am thankful for our life...for Damien...we very nearly didn’t have a father.” 

“I know and I’m thankful too.” 

“I’m not sorry, Xander, for the baby talk.”  She looked him in the eyes.

“I’m not either. But if it ever gets to be too much, you tell me, and it stops.” 

She pinched his left nipple. “Over, please.” 

He rolled over to his left, taking her with him. She sat up, stretched, and yawned.

He slapped her thigh. “I hear that. Full bellies, temporarily, sexually sated, temporarily, and the daddy jackal home in his den with his pups...all is right with the world.” 

Delia laughed. “Our world, anyway.” 

“We’ve been having intercourse for only a week, but it somehow feels both longer and shorter.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think that’s strange. We’ve known each other our whole lives, and we know each other so well, but the act is new, so it can seem like we’ve both been doing it for a long time and not so much a long time.” 

“And everything is still copacetic?” 

“Have I given you reason to think that there was something wrong?” 

He shook his head. “No. I just want to make sure that everything was good. Given that Damien is home the sex is bound to be less frequent so I just thought that now would be a good time to check in…again.” 

“Everything is still very good. If there were something wrong, I would tell you.” 

“I hope so, but I don’t just mean if there’s something wrong, but I’ve done what you’ve wanted me to do?”

“Everything that my perverted little mind can think of. Though I do believe I have some shopping to do. Tell me when.”

She began moving her hands apart and he laughed when he realized that she was talking about the length of the phallus she would use on him.

“You might want to back that up a foot or so. And you’ll tell me...what ever it is that you want?” 

“Of course, we tell each other everything, why would this be any different?” 

“Good, I want to make you happy. I don’t think that much has changed since we were kids, only how I make you happy.” He smiled up at her.

“I know I’ve said it before, but I like the new game the pups get to play.”  

“So do I and we have been waiting to play it for a long time.” 

“I have a request.”

He rubbed his hands together. “I like those. Give it to me.” 

“I want to fall asleep with you inside me.”  

With some difficulty, he reached over and shut off the light and pulled her to him and he held her tightly against him.

She closed her eyes, relaxed, and no longer fought her tiredness. “I love Nander, always and forever.”

“I love Dee-lee-lee-ah, forever and always.” 

The two of them sought out each other’s relaxed state and soon, wrapped in each other’s arms, they fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Delia came down the stairs feeling fantastic. She had lingered while under the hot water as Xander had had his way with her. He had then shampooed and conditioned her hair, which had put her in the mood again. She had also hidden his geta...life was good. She was smiling when she found Cecile in the kitchen, but there wasn’t anybody at the kitchen table.

“Bonjour, Cecile, où est mon père?”

“Dans la salle à manger.” 

She reached out; Thomas was there also.

“So, how do you like your kimono?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“And the sake?”

“I brought the bottle with me I might have to taste test that at lunch...to make sure.”

“If I’m here, I might join you.” She made her way into the dining room. “Morning Thomas. Here to join the Thorns for brekkers?”

“Good morning to you, Delia. Yes, it’s been a while. I thought I’d come by and grace you with my presence.”

“Good morning, pater.” She kissed his cheek.

“Morning.”

He returned the kiss, and she took her place on his right.

Ten minutes later, Xander poked his head through the dining room door. “Here you are.” He came in and took his regular seat to the left of his father.

“Damn, he found us.”    

“Xander.”

“Good morning, daddy dearest.” He smiled at Damien and then let the smile fall from his face. “Okay, that’s enough of trying to impress the company. Will you please speak to your daughter about hiding things that do not belong to her?”

“Such as?” 

“Such as the geta for my yukata, I left them on my bed and now they’re gone.”

“It’s easter, Xander, and I’m the easter bunny. I’ve hidden your shoes, and now you have to find them.”

“It’s June, Delia, and how would you like it if I pretended to be the easter bunny and went into your room and hid your shoes?”

She snorted. “Do it and see what happens.”

Cecile came out with her breakfast and handed it to her, a steak smothered with mushrooms.

“Hey, is there more of that?”

“There was only one steak from last night, but you can have it.” She held out the plate to Thomas, who shook his head. “I haven’t touched it...it’s okay.”

“No...”

Cecile took the plate and handed it to him, and he took it.

“Remember, Cecile likes an agreeable meal table. Otherwise, you’re gonna have to sit at the kiddie table.”

“Is that where you sit, Xander? Cecile, can I have two BLTs instead?”

“Of course.”

“Haha. So funny I forgot to laugh. Not to look a gift you in the mouth, but what brings you here?” He grabbed a section of the paper while he waited for his breakfast.

Thomas laughed. “I’m not enough, huh? Well, something unexpected came up at work today, so I’m here to take your father downtown and you both will be going elsewhere.”

Damien looked over at his children. “Thought you two might like to do the official unofficial Thorn walk-through at the plant.”

Xander put down the paper and sat up straight, a huge grin on his face. “Really!?”

“Really. It’s all had the official inspection. Normally, I like to go and get a firsthand account. It’s all purely ceremonial at this point, but I always feel that a Thorn should be there at the unveiling as it were. Elias will meet you before you go in, and he’ll be waiting at the other end. I could give you both a report to read to find out what’s been done, but this way you can go and see it for yourself and offer our congratulations and thanks to Elias Michaels and his team for a job well done.” Damien took a drink of coffee.

The grin had not disappeared from his face. This was the first time that either he or his sister would be representing their father at anything. Shower sex with Delia had been great, that had already put him in a brilliant mood, now this news had only added to the self-satisfied feeling spreading through him. If there was time, he just might have three helpings of everything at breakfast.

He then looked over at his sister and stifled a laugh.

On her face sat a look of absolute horror.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas looked at her, a forkful of steak about to go into his mouth.

There was too much wrong for her to vocalize. Since she hadn’t gone into the office yesterday, she didn't have the report that was now sitting on his desk. She wasn’t dressed to be representing the family at a picnic let alone going to one of the plants...she stood up so suddenly, she hit the table, rattling everyone’s plates and glasses.

Xander couldn’t help it and began shaking with laughter.

Frustrated, she turned to her father. “Why didn’t you have the report sent here this morning? I haven’t read it, and I’ve got to go and change.”

“Delia, sit, now.”

Cecile returned with the rest of the food, put it on the table and left; everyone but Delia tucked in.

She picked up her napkin and threw it at her brother. “You always think shit like this is funny. Think it’s funny to embarrass your family in front of the people who work for us?”

“Right now, I think you’re funny.” He put a forkful of potatoes in his mouth.

Cecile eventually came back with two BLTs.

“Thank-you,” she mumbled as she sat back, allowing Cecile to place the plate in front of her.

“You’re welcome and that was a very nice thing you did, Sweetpea.” She turned to leave.

“Will you please bring Delia some yogurt, fruit and something to drink which, if she doesn’t start acting her age, will be served to her in a sippy cup.”

“Okay, if you don’t stop, irreparable damage will be done to our relationship.” He could barely contain himself.

“Is that before or after I beat you to death with a hammer?”

Xander merely winked at her and continued eating.

Cecile returned with Delia’s food items and then left; she thoughtfully hadn’t put the cola in a toddler’s cup.

“You will eat everything on your plate. You will take your time, and you will engage in civilized conversation with your family and your guest. Right now, you’re the one embarrassing yourself in front of someone who works for us.”

“Enjoying breakfast?” Xander smiled at the man sitting on his right.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, I feel right at home.” Thomas took a sip of coffee.

“Sorry, Thomas,” her apology was sincere as she looked at him.

“It’s all good. This isn’t even one of your more...amusing outbursts.”

“Oh, please don’t. I’ll either not have a sister at the end of this meal, or she’ll kill me, so please keep it to yourself...for now…”

Breakfast finished without anymore interruptions, and they all made their way into the foyer.

“May I please change? I promise I’ll be quick.” She crossed her heart and did the three-fingered Scout salute.

“You have ten minutes.”

Delia bolted up the stairs; Xander turned and took off up the stairs after her.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, you don’t think she’ll be happy with what I’m wearing, do you?”

There hadn’t been anything wrong with what either of them were wearing, but they came down in fresh clothing: Xander in a suit and tie; Delia in black pant suit, with a matching black shirt.

“Is there anything for me to read?”

Her father, who had brought the newspaper with him from the dining room, handed it to her, a wicked smile on his face.

“Damien...” Her eyes narrowed to slits.

“You’ll have fifteen minutes before the walk-through starts to read the brief and take it with you on the tour. I’ll bring home the longer version, and you can read it tonight. These people know how to do their jobs, so they don’t need smart-ass remarks and ten thousand questions to make them feel like they’re being micromanaged. If you see anything that seems off, talk to Elias. Ask about things if you’re curious, but they have jobs to do and they’re not there to take you on a sightseeing tour right now; am I making myself clear?”

Both Thorn teens nodded.

Damien smiled. “This will all be fine so have fun and Delia, take it down a few notches, okay?”

She relaxed and lowered her shoulders, which were in danger of becoming part of her ears.

“I love you.” He hugged and kissed her.

“What about me?” He made fish lips at his father.

Damien one-arm hugged his son but refrained from kissing him.

“Is it me?” Xander breathed into his hand and smelled. “Nope, still minty fresh.”

“I love you, too, smart ass. I’ll be busy, so the two of you will have to do lunch on your own.”

“We’ll see you tonight and we’ll fill you in on all the details.” She was all business, wanting to let her father know that she would be paying attention and that what they knew, he’d know.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that for one second.”

Outside, was a second car with a driver waiting to take the twins out into the wilds of Illinois, outside the city where Thorn’s second largest industrial plant was located.

“See you tonight.” Damien waved to his children, they waved back and both he and Thomas got into the other car and in moments, it was headed down the long driveway and out onto the road.

The driver of his and Delia’s car stood by the door to open it, but he shook his head, and the driver got into the car.

“After you, mademoiselle.” He stood beside the back door directly behind the driver and found the handle for the door and opened it for his sister.

She stood there, gazing out over the front lawn. She had of course, very quickly gotten over their disagreement, and he knew that, but she wasn’t ready just yet to drop the pretense. She looked at her watch and got into the car.

He gingerly closed her car door and dashed around the other side, jumped in and the driver took off.

It took them over and hour to make the drive from their home to the Thorn Industrial Park located in the neighboring county and during that time, they had ridden in silence, neither speaking to the other, but Xander had sent more than occasional reassuring feeling her way.

Outside of the car was warm and it was shaping up to be a scorcher. He pulled his sister aside, away from the large glass doors and windows of the entrance of the building where they had more privacy.

“Am I forgiven?”

Delia only shrugged.

“You know, you’re very sexy when you’re in full Thorn mode.”

“Am I?”

“Very. I think I’d like, when we’re done here, to take you back to the house, send Cecile home early, and take you right in the kitchen.”

She turned her head towards him. “That’s against the rules.”

“What father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I will then make something delicious for us to enjoy for lunch. After, I will take you upstairs and make you scream loud enough for the people doing the construction on our homes to hear you.”

“Yeah, but they’re not that far from the house, so, it wouldn’t be all that impressive, you know, whatever it is that you’re planning to do to me.”

“We’ll see.” He smiled. “If I knew this was going to happen today, I would have been more supportive in the shower.”

She smiled back, unable to fake being angry at him any longer. “You were plenty supportive in the shower.” 

“Deedle, don’t sweat this, okay? Besides, I can think of more enjoyable ways to make you...uncomfortable.”

“Sounds fun.” She sent warm, lustful feelings his way. “Okay, let’s do this,” she exhaled loudly as they made their way to the entrance.

But as certain as she had sounded, he could feel her trepidation. “How do you know there’s an elephant in your fridge?”

“How?”

“Footprints in the Jell-O. What time is it when an elephant sits on your fence?”

“I don’t know. What time is it when an elephant sits on your fence?”

“Time to get a new fence.”

“I love you, Annoying One.”

“I love you, Nag.” His hand was on the handle of the door. “Let’s go make daddy proud.” He pulled open the door and was greeted by a blast of air-conditioning.

Three people were waiting for them in the tastefully designed foyer. The one they knew smiled broadly at them.

“This can’t possibly be Alexander and Delia.”

“In the flesh, Dr. Michaels.”  She smiled back and shook the hand he offered.

“Oh, please, it’s Elias. The last time I saw the both of you, you were in high school. Now, first year of Harvard under your belts.” 

“Ah…time flies when you’re having fun. Damien said that there was a brief of some kind.” Xander turned to one of the other two, who had clipboards in her hand.

“This is Jennifer Beauchamp.”

Elias introduced her as she gave two of the clipboards to each Thorn sibling.

“Do you need anything else? Coffee? Water?” Elias looked from one to the other.

“I’ll take a coffee, extra cream and sugar. And if I may, Delia will take a cola of some kind.”

One of the other three of the team, a young Chinese man, chuckled. “Another member of the early morning alternative caffeine intake society.”

She laughed. “We need a secret handshake.” She couldn’t think of anything else, so she gave him the shaka, which he returned.

“Okay, I’ll meet you both two hours from now at the end of the line. Please don’t hesitate to ask about anything along the way.”

Both Thorns said goodbye to Elias, and Jennifer cleared her throat.

“If you’ll follow me.”

She smiled and led the way down the hall to a door and down two flights of stairs. She opened the door, and they walked down a short hallway. Jennifer opened another door, and the Thorns found themselves in a break room.

“You can sit and read the brief in here and in about fifteen minutes, we’ll start the tour.”

Jennifer left just as the young man came back with the Thorn’s beverages.

She took her cola and the glass and looked at his name tag; Glenn Leung was emblazoned across the small brass plate next to the Thorn Industries logo.

Glenn handed the coffee to Xander, who thanked him in flawless Cantonese.

The man responded back in the same language and then laughed. “I’m impressed.”

Delia beamed. “He’s the polyglot in the family. He can speak five languages fluently; knows a handful of others and he’s currently working on Hindi.”

Glenn had been more than happy to be helpful to the Thorns, but Xander’s use of his native tongue had made even more eager to please; the both of them could feel it coming off of him in waves.

“I’ll be back.”

Xander glanced down at the brief but looked over at his sister. There was a cup on the table that held pens, pencils, highlighters, and scissors. She currently was using one of the highlighters to draw attention to something in the brief. It had been one of the things that he had used to like to do before he had told her of his feelings for her; watch her study or be engrossed in some kind of intellectual activity. He could have lain her on the table and fucked her here and now.

Fifteen minutes later, as promised, Glenn returned and lead the Thorns out that room and down a long hallway. There was a change room where they were handed lab coats, eye protection and two name-tags on strings.

“Not very dignified, I know.” Jennifer laughed.

“Shall we?” Glenn held the door open for the Thorns and the tour got under way.

…666…  

Xander looked down at his list of questions and jottings that he would ask Elias about once they got to the end of the “inspection.”

He looked ahead at his sister and Jennifer. The walk-through had turned into something much more informal than if Damien had been there. He found himself naturally drawn to Glenn, so they had paired off, while Delia had been, by default, left with Jennifer.

He wrote down something else that Glenn had mentioned and smirked when he looked up again at his sister...you’re not the only one who can pay attention.

“And here we are...just when you thought the fun wouldn’t end.”

Jennifer had stopped them in the last section of the working part of the plant before they would exit out into a hall and meet Elias in his office, and now was joined by Glenn.

When Delia came over to him, he shoved the papers in her face. “Questions and everything.”

She took a quick look at what he had written, and she smiled at him and spoke in a low voice, “You’ve been very professional while we’ve been here. Nary a smart comment to be found and now notes. I may just have to let you break the rules, kitchen wise, when we get back home.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

The Thorns removed their eyewear and lab coats, and Jennifer made a move to open the door that led out into the hallway when…both of them felt something and a second later, a klaxon began blaring and the locks on the doors clicked shut and then suddenly the room got dark as noxious clouds suddenly began billowing into the room from the vents, very quickly making it difficult to see.

One minute, Delia could see her brother standing there, the next minute she couldn’t. She reached out for him, but she couldn’t grab him.

“Xander, where are you?!”

“Here!”

“Where?!”

“Here!!”

She was now completely unable to see anything, but she began to hear screams that she was pretty sure weren’t coming from her brother. Whatever was filling the room was having no effect on her, though clearly whatever it was, was toxic and deadly as she realized that Glenn and Jennifer were dying.

“Delia!!”

But he sounded so far away and then, Delia felt...something again and then...she was empty, alone, wrong, off-balance, and then realized that for the first time in her life, she was alone inside her own head. This wasn’t like when Xander had been taken. Then he had felt fuzzy and muffled, now he was just gone.

She began flailing her arms wildly trying to find him and blind panic had overwhelmed her and what was worse, she couldn’t think because someone was hysterically screaming...until she realized that she was the one who was doing the screaming.

The room kept growing darker and Delia sunk to her knees and collapsed to the floor. She was beyond the ability to feel anything, or to care about what was going on. Her brother was dead; she no longer wanted to live.

“Xander.” She closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.

Chapter Text

Before she even opened her eyes, she could feel the familiar sensation of a presence inside her mind and was flooded with relief.

“Nander!?”

“Deedle!!” He rolled over onto his stomach and there she was, splayed out on the floor on her back. He got up, stumbled over to her, and fell more than sat beside her.

“Xander!” She sat up and clutched at him, never wanting to let him out of her sight for the rest of her life.

“Oh, thank Satan! Oh God, I thought you were dead! I couldn’t feel you anymore and I just wanted to curl up and fucking die.” He held her tightly to him, then pulled away and looked at her.

She leaned over and put her forehead against his and the two of them sat there, breathing in the other until they felt okay enough to begin to figure out what was going on.   

“I’m not so sure we aren’t dead.” 

He reached down and grabbed her wrist; he could feel her pulse. “I don’t know. That’s an awful lot of heart activity for someone who’s deceased.” 

“What happened?” 

He gave a shaky laugh. “You mean apart from the industrial accident we were just in?” 

“Did you feel something? Like...something?”

He nodded. “Twice. Once just before it started, and the second time was moments before I couldn’t feel you.” 

He wobbled to his feet and then extended his hand to his sister, who likewise was unsteady once she got up. As he stood there holding onto her, he looked around the room and he frowned.

“Uh, this isn’t the same room we were in. And why does this place look like there hasn’t been anybody in here for years?”  

She followed her brother’s lead; he was right, this wasn’t the same room they had been standing in when the accident had occurred. The other room had been larger and had more of an industrial feel to it. This room was smaller and looked like it had been a laboratory at one time. Not only that, but if it wasn’t broken, cracked, or dismantled, it was covered with dust or rusted.  

“Delia, here’s a wacky suggestion…let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

“Yeah, I think that qualifies as a plan.” She made her way to what should have been the door of the room, but the entry way had no door.

Xander followed his sister and stepped out into the hallway. “Okay, this isn’t funny anymore.”

The hall was just as different as the room had been.

“Which way first?” 

“This way.” He turned to his right and the two of them began trying to find their way out.

As they made their way through the building, they realized that all the entrances leading into rooms had had their doors removed, as well as the doors leading to the stairwells, more likely than not, to prevent squatters.

After some backtracking and frustration, she finally spotted the entrance/exit of the building.

“Finally.” 

“Let’s go.”  

They made their way down the hall towards the front door. From what they could see, the foyer hadn’t been as ornate as the other one had been, and it was much smaller.

“I want to see Damien so we can find out what the hell is going on.” 

She could feel him and knew that wanting their father had less to do with a need to inform him of the catastrophe that had befallen both them and their plant, and more to do with wanting to see him because he was as scared as she was.

They were in the lobby when they became aware of someone behind them, and they let him approach.

“Can I help you?” 

They turned to find themselves looking at a young man who was apparently the security guard.

“This is private property. Why are you here?” 

“We want to see Damien Thorn.”

Xander stepped forward and had made the demand using all the authority he could possessed, which under normal circumstances would have gotten him exactly what he wanted.  

However, these weren’t normal circumstances. At the mention of Damien’s name, the man’s eyes narrowed, and both could feel a change in him. Xander locked eyes with the guard, who had his hand on his walkie-talkie by this point.

Since the kidnapping incident which had triggered his connection to the supernatural part of himself, he had honed not only his ability to read and manipulate people’s emotions, but to be able to go into their mind and direct them to do whatever he wanted them to do. He smirked. Killing this man was child’s play. He simply went inside his brain, concentrated on a handful of blood vessels and caused them to weaken to the point off rupturing; it was more than enough to drop the man dead at their feet.

“Should we leave him here?” He looked over at her.

Outside, one lone car, no doubt belonging to the guard, sat in the first row of the parking lot whose white lines were barely visible after years of neglect.  

“No. I say we put him in the trunk and dump his car somewhere.”

He rifled through the man’s pockets, found his keys.

“Take his wallet while you’re at it.”

“Tribute, My Queen.”

 “Pull the car up to the front door.” 

He passed her the billfold and looked inside; there was a hundred and fifty dollars in twenties and other small bills which she took and put into her jacket pocket since whatever had happened, her purse hadn’t followed her.

She held the door open while Xander came back, heaved the man over his shoulders, and took him out and dumped him into the open trunk, closing the lid behind him.

The pair of them looked around the foyer; nothing to look like anything abnormal had gone on.

“Let’s see where we are.”

He sat in the driver’s seat and pulled out onto the road. Delia turned on the radio; they were indeed in Illinois, but still on the outskirts of the city, though an hour later, Willis Tower, John Hancock Center, and Water Tower Place came into view as the Chicago skyline grew larger. She had to admit, she was filled with some relief.

“That toddling town,” she quipped under her breath, intending to pay attention to whatever the radio was saying, but her head whipped back towards the monoliths of concrete and steel.

There were a few buildings missing, namely the Bloomingdale Building. She blinked, as if somehow, she had missed the huge edifices, but they weren’t there, and the lack of the building at 900 North Michigan filled her with a strange longing.  

When she had informed Anna that it was time to buy her first bra, the older woman had made a day of it. First, she had taken Delia out to high tea at the Drake Hotel. She had felt silly at first, after all, it was just a bra, but she had enjoyed the tea and finger sandwiches. Then they had gone to Bloomingdale’s to buy her something simple, sans all the lace and frills, and they had not been the only women that afternoon who were there making momentous purchases. While they waited for the saleswoman to help, Delia had watched tearful mothers pay for their daughter’s first bras and for the first time in her life, she had appreciated her lack of a female parent.  

On the way back home, Anna had asked if everything had been okay, and she had also apologized that it had been her and not Delia's mother who had ushered her through this particular female right of passage.

Later, she had gone upstairs and had made Anna a card thanking her for the day and saying that she had very much enjoyed it, and how lovely everything had been.

As she looked at the gaping hole, for no other building had gone up, she wondered what else was missing and was different.

“What is it?” He felt the shift in her mood.  

She turned to him. “I think we’d better be prepared for some freaky shit. And what is this? I don’t recognize any of this music.”

“It might be some kind of eighties station. Not only that…there’s a tape deck, but no CD player, but it doesn’t look like a new car.”

“Let’s try the news.”

He switched to AM, and found what was either an all-news station, or a music station on a news break.

“And we turn now to the continuing crisis in the Middle East. Another series of bombings rocked the city of Tel Aviv yesterday, increasing worries over the success of the upcoming peace talks between Israel and the Arab states...” 

“The more things change…Deedle, we need to get rid of this car. We can’t pull up in front of the Thorn Building with a dead body in the trunk.” 

It didn’t take her long until she spotted a shopping mall, and she tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. He found the off ramp and made his way there. It wasn’t very busy, and he drove around back of the building and the two of them simply got out of the car and walked away.

They walked through the mall until the pair found themselves at the main entrance. Outside, lined up, near the doors, were cabs. They chose the first one, got in, and instructed the driver to take them to the Thorn building.

Since they were now in the city, and since wherever they were still had traffic jams, she could look around.

The cars that surrounded them, and the one that they were in, were boxy, and very large; gas-guzzlers and boats Damien would have called them. They were also very muted in colour. Any shiny, candy apple red speed machine would have stuck out.

At the lights, she watched people cross the street. While some men wore suits that seemed like something she might see on the days she accompanied her father to work, there were also men dressed in powder blue polyester suits with ties so wide, you could use them as surfboards.

The women were dressed rather on the frumpy side, though they were in the professional centre of the city, which might explain the more conservative attire, but nothing prepared Delia for the women who walked past with shoulder pads in their jackets or dresses.

She tuned into the conversation that her brother was having with the driver.  

“I was alive during the Cuban missile crisis, and I thought I was gonna meet my maker before I turned twenty...and here we are again. If it ain’t us and the Russians, it’s the Middle East.”  

The cab pulled up across the street from the building and neither Thorn felt any remorse about making the driver believe that he had been paid when he really hadn’t.

“Well, Junior. Are one of these things not like the other?”

She smiled and turned to him. “You tell me.”

“The door. I don’t ever remember it revolving. There are three doors.”

“So far, so good.”

They crossed the street.

Like where they were from, the large plaque that identified it as the Thorn Building, was present. Here, like where they were from the date on the bronze plate read 1889.

The pushed the doors and the pair of them stood in the lobby.

“Holy crap.”

During the span of their lives, the front lobby of Thorn had been overhauled twice. It was sleek, bright, and modern while maintaining character and the gravitas of what they were now standing in…wood panelling, overstuffed leather chairs, and plush velvet ropes that acted as barriers to keep people away from where they shouldn’t be. It all made it feel like they were in a study and not the foyer of the largest business of the face of the Earth.

“No security desks; no place to swipe badges; no guards. Delia. Correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t it Thorn Industries? There is a great big sign that hangs in our lobby that says so. What the fuck is Thorn Corporation?”

“Checkmarks all round.”

“One of those sets of elevators should be the executive one that leads to and or from the executive parking garage. Not to mention the executive entrance/exit around back.”

The pair of them stood there gawking and must have looked like rubes come in from the country who had never seen a building bigger than ma and pa’s general store. The people walking past them gave them looks, though it would have been more accurate to say the men who walked past because in the nearly ten minutes that they had been standing there, not one woman had come through the lobby.

Next to the elevators was where the portrait of the President and CEO hung. A few months earlier, Damien had sat for his new portrait and Xander had laughed and told his father to have plenty of cash on hand to bribe the guy to make sure that he didn’t look his age; Delia had punched him in the arm for the comment.

It had been the second painted since Damien had assumed the position, and interesting for them because when he had sat for the first one, neither of them had existed. They had come home for March Break and had attended the event, everyone joking that there must be a third painting somewhere à la Dorian Gray because he hadn’t aged much since the first one had gone up.

Delia and Alexander stood in front of the picture, but it wasn’t of Damien; it was of Paul Buher. Next to it was another portrait and it was of their father. Normally, there would be no other picture competing with the one of the President and CEO of Thorn Industries, but Damien Thorn wasn’t just anybody, or in this case, hadn’t been just anybody. The gold plaque underneath was simple and quickly drove home the point as to why the picture had been left there.

DAMIEN THORN

1950-1982

That was why the guard had reacted the way that he had; they had requested to see a man who had been dead for eighteen years.

Sadness consumed both Thorns and they stood there, their arms around each other. Their grief was irrational; whoever this Damien had been, he hadn’t been their father, but the children couldn’t help but feel sorrow at his loss. And of course, there was the more practical reason that whatever was going on here: they would now have to try to figure it out without the benefit of their father.

“When in doubt go to the library.”

“Spoken like the Delia Thorn I know and love.”

They left the building and hailed a cab and were immediately hit with another reminder that they were no longer in Kansas when the driver politely, but adamantly, insisted that that no such place as the Harold Washington Library existed.

“Do you mean the library on Washington Street?” The cabbie looked at them in the rear-view mirror.

“Sure.” Xander smiled at the man, who seemed much more at ease once he was given instructions to take them to a place that actually existed.  

Neither Thorn had ever been in the building while it had been the public library, but both had been in it as the Chicago Cultural Center, so it was strange for them to see it filled with books instead of the place that both had gone with their father to meet various dignitaries, including Queen Elizabeth.

“I say we start online. At least find out what happened to fath…Damien.”

He could feel her leaden mood.

“Hey, we’re together, and we’ll figure everything out, eventually.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I know.” She squeezed back.

They walked around until they spotted a woman sitting at the reference desk. Xander switched on his charm and was all smiles when he walked up to the woman.  

“Hi, we’re looking for the computers. Can you tell us where they are?” 

“Computers?”  

“Yes, we want to go online to look something up.” 

But the woman only stared at them and neither Thorn had to ask anymore questions. Wherever it was that they were, the internet, and computers as they knew them, didn’t exist or weren’t available for the average person.

Delia flashed her own smile at the woman. “Do you have newspapers on microfilm?”

“Oh yes, we have issues of the Tribune and the Sun-Times going back to the first issues of both.” 

“Could we use those? And where are your current newspapers kept?”

“The periodicals’ reading room is right over that way.” The woman came out from behind the desk, pointed in one direction for the periodicals and then proceeded to take her and Xander to a room with about a dozen microfilm readers, most of which were occupied.

“You just go over to the window and tell the tech what you want...how the issues are organized is in here.” 

The woman handed her a binder.

“Thank-you.” 

“You’re welcome. My shift is almost over, but anyone else will be glad to help.” She turned and left the room.  

Delia took a seat at one of the free machines and immediately went to work deciding which issues of the newspapers she wanted. “I need pen or pencil and paper, please.” 

Xander went to get what she wanted and came back with pens and enough paper to recopy War and Peace. He sat and he thought about something, and he looked towards the direction of the entrance, even though he couldn’t see it.

“What?” She stopped what she was doing and looked at him.

He turned to her. “There was not one single person walking around with their phone stuck to the side of their face.” 

They both patted their pockets. Like Delia’s purse and their I.D., their phones hadn’t made it with them.

“Well, this looks like it’s too much fun for two people, so I’ll let you stay and do this while I go get the lay of land as it were. I’ll come back for you so don’t leave.” 

She gave a thumbs up with her left hand to show that she had heard and understood but had not stopped writing.

...666...

Two hours later, he came back to the library and spotted his sister sitting at one of the tables going over the information that she had written.

“So, what did you find out?”  

“For starters, if we’re stuck here, we can make our fortune writing Harry Potter.”  

“Well, it’ll have to be a remarkably short series because I see your Harry Potter and raise you nuclear Armageddon.”

She took the paper and read the front page and the story; apparently the cabbie and the radio weren’t exaggerating.

“Also, I robbed a bank.”

She looked inside the case and then reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out the money and put it on her table. “From the security guard.” 

“I win. I think I’ll have to be breadwinner in the family seeing as how my twenty-five grand beats your hundred bucks.” 

“Hey, one hundred and fifty thank you very much.” Delia stood, gathering her things.

“Do you need anything else from here?” 

“Nope.” 

“Okay, I got us a hotel room near here. Nice, clean, nowhere near as expensive as we’re used to, but it’ll do for now.”

He walked to other side of the reference desk where there were more tables and where the phone books for each state were kept. He searched until he found the one that he wanted and grabbed it and put it in the case with the money.  

“Come on, I’m starved.” 

As hungry as they were, they agreed to wait to eat in the hotel room, away from people so she and Xander could try to get a bead on their situation and so they could be alone. After buying clothes, they bought pizza, soda, and junk food and brought everything back to the hotel.

Once in the room, she was surprised to find two double beds. Once the pizza and garlic bread were put on the small table, and everything else was put away, she found herself in Xander’s arms, and then his eager mouth met hers. She smiled. He was right; they were here together and that was all that mattered.

He pulled his mouth away from hers. “I came this close to telling them that you were my wife. But I thought it best to stick to a half truth and said that you were my sister and with this being our first trip to Chicago, our over-protective parents didn’t want you to be sleeping on your own.” 

“Quick thinking, Thorn.” She kissed him on the nose. There was a small table and two chairs, and they sat and attacked the pizza and garlic bread like they hadn’t eaten in a month. Once they were done, there cleaned the table and returned with two pads and some pens.

Xander took a deep breath and went first, “Okay, we haven’t travelled back in time, the date on the newspaper is the same as it was on this morning’s paper when I was reading it, but we’ve gone...sideways in time? Fuck, it’s like an episode of Star Trek or something.” He finished off his Coke.

“I think that sounds right.” Her voice was quiet, and she locked eyes with her brother, neither being able to prevent themself from thinking of their father.  

“We had breakfast with him this morning. We watched him get into the car with Thomas and drive away.” His voice was tinged with a grief that, again, made no sense.

“But not here. Wherever we are, he died nine months before we were born.” She felt a tightening in her chest, and she fought the urge to cry.  

He was quiet, almost uncertain whether he should say aloud what he was thinking, but to him, it was the only thing that made sense.

“Delia, God put us here. The two times were felt something? That was Satan. Whatever has happened was meant to happen to us. How often does something “just come up” at Thorn?  We’re meant to be here, not father.” 

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, awed, and overwhelmed that God had chosen her for some still unknown task. She finally opened her eyes and regarded her brother, who didn’t need to hear the question to know what it was.

“The why of it all...your guess is as good as mine. I’m just afraid of failing.” 

“Satan has faith in us; that means we need to have faith in our ability to figure out why we’re here.” 

He smiled at her. “My beloved sister who trusted in God years before I did.” 

“We both trust in Him know and that’s all that matters.” She leaned over and kissed him. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Nag, and right now, I’m feeling the need to do something concrete.”

He left the table, sat on the bed and opened the case.

She gave him a knowing look. “A phone book from Virginia...of what use could that possibly be?” 

“York...Gene and Karen York. If Damien would have died, that’s who would have been our parents, so we look them up and see if there are usses from here.” 

Delia laughed. “Remember, I was supposed to be born first. Who knows how many years younger you are than I am.”

“Unlucky me.” He flipped through phone book until he found an add for the law firm of York, York, Tate, and Smith and dialed the number. He briefly spoke to the receptionist who put him through to Karen.

She sat and listened and smiled as her brother bullshitted his way through a fifteen-minute conversation, something that she would have found nearly impossible to do, but she didn’t have to wait to hear the final outcome of the conversation once he had hung up on Karen York.

“The Yorks have no children.”

“The Yorks have no children.” He flopped back first onto the bed.

“We could be anywhere, not just in the timeline where we lived with the Yorks.” 

“Oh good, because for a second there, I thought that this wasn’t going to be complicated.” 

He began to sit up and every second it took him until he was upright, she felt his mood shift until she could feel cold hate radiating from him.

“How are you feeling, Delia?”

“I’m okay, I’m mean considering everything that’s…”

The obvious was so obvious she had missed it.

“Liars.” She stood. “Murdering fucking liars! He should be alive here, too but…fuck! I fucking hate them!”

Xander reached over to the case and took out all the information that she had gathered.

“Damien Thorn supposedly dies of a heart attack in bed and leaves behind a bevy of followers, some of whom off themselves. Paul takes over running Thorn Industries again, which at some point has become the Thorn Corporation.”

“More likely than not, Kate lures Damien to the Abbey. I’m guessing Peter still dies because father uses him to protect himself. He goes off searching for the nazarene, leaving the Dagger behind.”

“She sneaks up on him and kills him.”

“I couldn’t find anything about Kate dying, so it’s possible she’s alive in England.”

“Satan showed both of us how he died.”

She turned to him. “I always assumed, at least with me, it was His way to wake me up to who I was. When it came to you…”

“To let me know that once I had accepted my role as Antichrist, I had a target on my back, courtesy of the so-called god and his son.”

“Maybe there was more to the visions. Maybe they were sent to show us that there are other…timelines, and that in some of them, like this one, Satan couldn’t intervene in time to save His son.  And why the fuck does it look and sound like this place is stuck in 1981?” 

He laughed. “I’m going to be having nightmares about women in legwarmers who look like Olivia Newton John asking me if I want to get physical.” He quickly read through the other tidbits of info that Delia had decided to include. “No attack on the World Trade Center in 1993; no internet, we could try to find Tim Berners-Lee and help him invent the world wide web; no cell phones; no kids wanting to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...and the world about to be blown up in a nuclear attack. What fresh hell is this?” 

“We need to find Paul...or Thomas.” 

He picked up the phone again and got the number to the Thorn Corporation building and enquired about Thomas and Paul. He hung up the phone, but once again she didn’t need to be told the answer to his inquiries. “No Thomas.”

“Not only was the sea of faces in the lobby of that building very male, but it was also very white.”

“And Paul?” 

He began taking off his shirt. “I was politely informed that he was out of the country. However, if you had to make an educated guess as to what other nation on the face of this Earth might be involved in all of this, what country would you pick?” He was now totally naked.

Delia had begun undressing also and was now as naked as her brother. “England. Tell me, Xander, what happened in England?”

She moved towards him, and he kept backing up until his legs hit the end of the bed. He sat and pulled her to him, running his hands up the back of her thighs and up to her backside. “We were made there.” 

She pouted. “You can’t just stop there, naughty dog.” 

He let go of her and backed himself up so that his ass was in the middle of the bed and then he lay back and got up on his elbows. “I don’t know, Deedle, it gets awfully loud when we talk about that.” 

She knelt on the bed. He wasn’t hard yet, but she was going to do her best to change that. She began kissing her way up…his calves, thighs, until she reached his cock.

“What have we here?”

“That’s my second favourite toy, Delia.”

“What’s your first?”

“That would be your cunt.”

She smiled. “Mmm, thank you, and it happens to be my favourite toy, as well.” Though, this really is more like Delia’s favourite candy.” She reached out, grabbed his prick, and gave it a lick, up the shaft, and to the head. “What if I promised that if you tell me, I’ll be super quiet.” She sat up, crossed her heart, and made the Scout sign.

“You misunderstand me, Junior; I like it when you’re loud. I’ll tell it only if my sister promises me that when I tell you the story once we get back to the house in New Haven, you’ll be as loud as you like.”

“I promise.” She put her hands on either side of him, moving to see if the bed made any noise, but it made no protest over her movements. She then held out her hand to him. “Be a good boy and spit.”

He sat up, did as he was told, and she added her own spit to his and she began to stroke him.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, first, I’m going to get you nice and hard. Then, I’m going to mount you and put your cock inside me. Then, I’m going to fuck you while you say naughty things to me…until we both come.”

“Sounds like a plan; please continue.”

“I’m glad I have a slut for a brother; I’d be so terribly bored otherwise.”

“I’m glad that I have a beautiful sister whom I will never stop loving.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet. I’d ask you what it is that you want from me, but I think I’m already doing it.”

“Am I that transparent? I’m glad that I have a slut for a sister; I’d be so terribly bored otherwise.”

She laughed as she continued to work at getting him hard. “You just save your words for you dirty story.”

“I think I’ll be quiet and appreciate the view.” He got up on his elbows.

She looked at him, watching him smile and enjoy was she was doing. “I’m glad we’re here together.”

“I am too. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you and I are on the job. That means we’ll figure out this motherfucker and be home in time for tea and crumpets.”

“Damn straight.” She admired his hardening flesh until he was as ready as he was going to get. “To do list. You nice and hard. Check. Next, I mount you.” She had been between his legs but as she straddled him, he brought his legs together, and helped ease her down on top of him. “Next, you inside me.” She looked down and gave him a wink. “Check. The fucking will commence once you start your story.”

She had been sitting up, but now she lay on top of him, and buried her face in his neck, biting his shoulder. His hands moved up into her hair finding her mark; she softly groaned.  

He kissed her cheek. “Where to begin...”  

...666...  

They were in one of the beds, on their stomachs, and had just finished sandwiches and chips. It was after midnight, and both were ready to call it a day.

“At least we arrived so we can watch the threat of nuclear destruction on CNN.”

She yawned. “Should we sleep in separate beds?”

“And in our pajamas.”  He kissed her and they both got up to brush their teeth and washed their faces and when they came back into the sleeping area, they got into their own bed. Each shut off the lamp that was on the bedside table; they now lay in darkness.

“Nander?” 

“Hm?” 

“What do you suppose is happening back where we come from?” 

He shook his head even though she couldn’t see him do it. “I don’t know, Deedle.” 

“Are we gone? Are we dead? What’s going on?” 

He didn’t have to be empathetic to know she was as frustrated, scared and as worried as he was; he could nothing but think of their poor father who might literally be tearing apart the building look for them. They lay in the dark, their thoughts mingling, attempting to give the other comfort.

Eventually, they pulled away from one another, and he smiled in the dark.

“Good night, Lucy.” 

“Good night, Ricky.”

It had been a long day, and the stress of all of it had worn them out, and it didn’t take long until Damien Thorn’s children fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Forty-eight hours later, the Thorns were on a plane on their way from Chicago to London.  

The twins had grown up with much, but Damien had also taught them to do for themselves. They would laugh when they would go over to other people’s homes and their children were seemingly stymied by what to do when the doorbell rang and their butler wasn’t there to answer the door.

However, the one thing that neither had done was to fly in anything other than one of the corporate jets. It took of all of a half an hour for both of them to tire of it...even first class was too crowded and noisy. They were used to having to share space on the plane with each other and/or their father, but that was it. Delia had been tempted to ask the stewardess if there was another part of the plane where the extra important people sat because that’s where she would like to be, and when they deplaned landed at Heathrow Airport, they could finally breathe again.

Before leaving the States, they had exchanged some of the money from dollars to pounds, and now sat outside a pub enjoying a pint, something that they had both been too young to do the first time that they had crossed the pond, and fish and chips.

On the way over, they had figured that since Paul was in England, he’d more likely be in one of two places, Felix or Oscar. Not wanting to waste time guessing where he was, they had first gone to Thorn headquarters in London to find out where he was staying. However, they soon discovered that no such places existed wherever they were, and that he was staying in the Thorn suite in the Hyde Park Hotel. Once they were done eating, they would take a cab to see Paul to see if he could shed some light on what was wrong. 

...666...

It was only two in the afternoon and Paul Buher was on his fourth whisky since he had gotten up eight hours ago; nobody had to tell him that was bad. He was sitting behind the desk, leaning back in the chair. There was a meeting with the Syrians and the Israelis scheduled for tomorrow that the current U.S. Ambassador to Great Britain was going to attend.  

However, it wasn’t the politics that was causing his increase in the consumption of alcohol.

He would be visiting the boy today, and that always caused him to bend his elbow more than he normally did, not to mention chewing through half a bottle of antacid. He had taken lunch here, and he would drive out to Pereford, see him, have dinner, and need more whisky to get over the visit when he returned.

The phone rang and he picked it up, “Hello?” 

“There’s a Delia and Alexander York to see you.”  

It was the front desk downstairs. “I don’t know any Delia or Alexander York; tell them to leave.”

There was a pause. “There’s a Delia and Alexander York to see you.” 

“Are you deaf or stupid? I told you I don’t know any Delia or Alexander York.”  

There was another pause. “There’s a Delia and Alexander York to see you.” 

He was about to tell the concierge that he would be fired, but there was something in the man’s voice. It was robotic and monotone...like he was under someone’s influence. There was the boy, but he didn’t drive and why would the concierge say that there were two people if it was the boy? 

“Tell them I’ll be half an hour.” 

“Very good, Mr. Buher.” The jovial tone had returned to the man’s voice, and he hung up the phone.

Whoever they were, they were already in the hotel, but he would not concede any more space to them by inviting them upstairs, so he would go to them, but in his own time... 

When he arrived in the hotel lobby it was half an hour to the minute. He didn’t have to search to find the two mysterious visitors, but they weren’t what he was expecting.

First, they were young, maybe early twenties. Second, while he did not recognize them, something about them began to whisper in his brain. They looked back at him. Not staring but standing their ground. They understood the game that Paul was playing and would let him play it. For now.

Alexander had been looking around when he had come off the elevator and for anyone who wasn’t him, it would have seemed as if he was just casually taking in his surroundings, but the boy had been observing, gathering information. He had turned to Paul; he knew something Paul didn’t know, and he liked that it gave him an advantage. He switched his attention to the girl.

Delia, he pegged them as siblings rather than husband and wife, had not been looking anywhere but at the elevator. Not because she wasn’t interested in her surroundings; she had observed, made her assessment and was ready to move on to her next target, him.

The whisper in his brain became a loud voice telling him crazy talk, because he recognized them. Not by their looks, but by their bearing. He closed his eyes; it is not possible. But when he opened them, he looked with his gut, and he understood.

Alexander. Tall, like his father, with the same piercing blue eyes and dark hair. Handsome in a classic way and a smile that had made women throw themselves at Damien’s feet, plus the same nonchalance that had made women want him even more. Boyish charm combined with elegance, intelligence, and confidence that on anyone else would have been arrogance. That combination had made Damien Thorn, at one point, the most desirable bachelor on the planet. The boy was more relaxed than the girl, but only an idiot would have thought that that made him less dangerous.  

Delia. Tall. Attractive, classic features like her brother and father but, unlike her brother, held herself with reserve, like Damien, who many had joked was so stiff most times, he must have been born with a pole up his ass. Men would not be as attracted to her as women were to Alexander and Damien, it just didn’t work that way, and he wondered what she was like under different circumstances, but for right now, he recognized her demeanor. He had seen it dozens of times in Damien during board room meetings and negotiations. She was not tense but waiting; watching as her opponent gathered enough rope with which to hang himself; the slight smile on her face suggesting that she’d enjoy it, as her father had had.  

He swallowed. Somehow, someway that defied all logic, he was staring at the children of Damien Thorn.

He must have turned pale...paler than he already was because the next thing he knew, Alexander was at his elbow.

“Don’t have a heart attack.” He led Paul back to the elevator.

The elevator operator pressed the button to take the trio up to the Thorn suite. It was a quiet ride up as everything that needed to be said, needed to be said in private.

Once inside the suite, Paul headed right for the booze and poured himself a straight whiskey; he downed that in one gulp. He poured another one, took a sip and gripped the glass as tight as he dared. He turned and faced them.

“How is this possible?” 

“All things are possible through Satan.”  

 Alexander smiled at him...then Paul realized that he was somewhat making a joke.

“We don’t know how this happened. Three mornings ago, we were at one of the plants doing a walk-through for Damien then there was an accident, and we ended up here.” 

He turned to Delia. She was watching and it was like having two Damiens. Alexander, the charming one, keeping you off balance with his easy-going manner; Delia, the jackal, waiting to pounce when you fucked up, good cop bad cop…well, more like bad cop and even worse cop. Alexander was smiling; like his father, not much got past him.

“We just want to make sure that you tell us the truth, but perhaps my sister can back off, just a tiny bit?” He looked over at her.

She smiled and relaxed somewhat.

“Yes, we are Damien’s children. We used York because we thought that name might mean something to you?” 

But he shook his head.

“Gene and Karen York from Virginia?” 

But he merely shook his head again, but then he turned to Alexander. “You said you were doing a walk-through for Damien...he’s alive?”

Alexander began to explain everything, starting with the how the birth of the nazarene had been a lie and how they had invaded Damien’s head and had made him believe that the Second Coming had happened. How Satan had been able to intervene and make his son understand it was all a deception.

They told him of the plan, if Damien did not survive, to have the Yorks adopt Delia, and how she would have carried inside of her the embryo of Alexander who would then be implanted in Karen. Delia would eventually be revealed to be the daughter of Damien Thorn and thus heir to the most powerful business on the face of the Earth. Delia would run Thorn Industries; Alexander would eventually become President of the United States and only those in Damien’s inner circle would have known that they were in fact related by blood and that Alexander was the Antichrist reborn. He told him that here, too, the nazarene had not been born.

The nazarene had not been born…

It was like the floor had come out from under him. They had to be wrong. The christ had been born; Damien had said so. DeCarlo had gone with one of his priests and had verified the birth. And then there were...

“You have to be mistaken, because…I’ve been having...dreams.” 

“Go on.”

Xander assumed here, like where they were from, Paul was an apostate; marked from birth to serve Satan. If he was having dreams, they were important.

“Nightmares, really. Destruction, devastation. There’s the prophecy...are you aware of the situation here?” 

“The world on the brink of being blown to bits? Vaguely. Wait, are you saying that you’re a part of this?” He now gave Paul his undivided attention.

“More than a part of it, right smack dab in the middle of it. The current U.S. Ambassador, Philip Brennan, is under my control. I’m trying to manipulate things in our favor.” 

“You’re trying to manipulate nuclear devastation in our favor? Please tell me how that works. And what prophecy?” Delia, like her brother, was focused on Paul.

“Luke 21...” but he had stopped talking as he observed the Thorns, who had grown quiet.

“Well, we’re in charge and whatever is going on comes to a halt. Now.”  

“It’s not as simple as that.” He squirmed under Alexander’s unyielding gaze.  

“We’re making it that simple, Paul.” 

The tone in his voice, the one that said I will not take no for an answer and for one fraction of a second, it was as if Damien had come back from the dead and joy took hold of Paul’s heart. Despite the somber tone of the conversation, he gave the young man a broad smile. “You are your father’s son, Alexander.”

He was briefly taken aback but smiled at him. “Thank you. And it’s Xander.”  

Paul moved to the window and gazed out over the city. “It’s not so easy because...Damien has a son here.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

Paul turned to look at him.

“If you were anyone else but you, you would have turned cartwheels when you realized who I was, so I can’t help wondering why you’re so happy to see me when Damien’s son is alive and well.”

“Alive, yes. As for well...you don’t look like your father, not really, but once I knew it was you, I could see it…if that makes sense. You’re like him where it counts…confident, assertive, smart...I don’t mean to ignore you...may I call you Delia?” 

“It’s my name and it’s okay.”  

She smiled at him, and he could see Damien’s charm there, too. “And you have more of a sense of humor than your father had.”

Xander laughed. “Oh, well, that was Damien at the tender young age of thirty-two and having no children. You need a sense of humor when you have children, but certainly you must have learned that from your brother?”

“My brother didn’t have any children.” 

“No Anna?” Delia looked at him.

He shrugged. “I guess not. But Anna was…”

“…your grandmother’s name,” she finished for him.

Xander handed him another drink and he drank half of it before he told the Thorns the story of how he had been devastated to learn of Damien’s death, but he had received a phone call from a doctor here in England who had informed him that Kate was pregnant and then how she had died giving birth to a son.

But the boy would never have the life that Damien had had, for there was the christ to worry about. No going to school; no having friends; no birthday parties; no girlfriends; no vacations; no fun outside of the grounds on which he lived. Damien’s son would have to live in near seclusion and his existence kept a secret until he could come out of hiding...whenever that would be. The boy had a tutor, George, who had been Damien’s manservant when Damien had been Ambassador. They did the best they could for the boy, but it wasn’t the same.  

“You keep calling him Damien’s son or the boy. What’s his name?”  

Paul inhaled and then loudly exhaled. “He doesn’t have one.” 

“Come again?”  

He turned to Delia. “Nobody was sure what to call him. In the beginning, nobody wanted to call him Damien and then once he turned twelve, he didn’t want a name.” 

“So, he has no name?”

“Correct.” 

“What is he?” 

He looked at Xander. “Nobody is sure. Yes, he’s Damien’s son, but...you don’t look like your father, and you’re unlike him in many ways, but I knew it was you...you carry yourself like he did.” Paul closed his eyes and opened them again. “He is the spit of Damien; I mean the spit. I knew your father from the age of five and the boy is now seventeen and he looks exactly like Damien did at that age. But he lacks his father’s charm and, well, everything that made Damien, Damien. Whether he’s his son, or Damien reborn or some kind of combination of the two...”

But a heavy silence hung in the air and the Thorn siblings didn’t have to be empathic to know that there was something more that he wanted to say.

“What is it you’re not telling us?” She raised an eyebrow at Paul.

He looked from one to the other. “May I ask a question that might prove to be indecorous?” 

“Go for it.”

“How were you both born?”  

“I don’t understand.” She frowned.

“You mentioned something about having Xander’s embryo inside you?” 

“Yes, but that’s not what happened. We are fraternal twins…I’m the oldest. Kate’s gestation was a regular pregnancy. We were born on christmas day. You have to know how much that pleased Damien.”

“So far we haven’t got to anything improper, so I’m confused,” Xander chimed in.

“His was an…unusual conception and birth.” 

“How so?”  

There was only silence; Xander came over to him.

“We don’t have time for this; we’re here for a reason and the sooner we start getting to the bottom of it, before the world gets blown to little pieces, the better.”  

“It was clear from his conception that Kate and Damien engaged in…unusual sexual activity.”

“Unusual how?”

“In where the boy was conceived in Kate’s body.”

Paul looked at Delia and quickly looked away, as if her presence was preventing him from coming right out and saying what had happened.  

“Are you trying to say that the, let’s call it, non-heteronormal sexual activity that Damien engaged in with Kate resulted in a child being conceived in her rectum?”

He was the color of newly fallen snow at this point but nodded his head in agreement.

“Where is he?” Xander continued.

“Pereford House.”  

“Where?” 

“Where Damien lived while he was Ambassador to Great Britain.” 

“Um, here’s an interesting question. Why didn’t Damien live in Winfield House in Regent’s Park?”  

“Where?”

“The official residence of the American Ambassador to Great Britain.” Delia felt like she was lecturing to a third grader.

“Pereford House belongs to the Thorns.” 

“Well, I can own a house in Washington DC that goes back four generations, but when I become President, I live in the White House...it doesn’t matter.” Xander shook his head in frustration.

“Where are the daggers?”

She was all business again. “I know where one is. The others...” 

“You’re going to find them and keep them for us.” 

“Also, you will not tell him what we told you about the nazarene not being born. When the time is right, we will tell him. Where is Pereford House?” He grabbed paper and a pen from Paul’s desk and wrote down what he said. 

“There’s a gate, and security cameras.” 

“None of which is a problem for us. Can you get him out of the house?” Xander put the paper in his pocket.

“Sometimes, in his more boyish moods, he asks me to take him to the movies.”

“Perfect. The day after tomorrow is Saturday. Make a day of it...lunch, movie, ice-cream afterwards. Have this George person out of the house as well.” 

“No problem. Why?” 

“Because something is rotten in the state of Denmark, and it appears to be coming from the direction of Pereford House. Don’t tell him that you’re looking for the daggers, either,” Delia warned.  

Xander could feel the apprehension coming from Paul, but he smiled at him, and it put the older man at ease. “Just get him out of the house, we’ll do the rest. I’d ask you to come to where we’re staying to let us know how everything went, but we haven’t found a place yet. Our suitcases are downstairs.” 

He put up his hand, went to the desk, picked up the phone and called The Savoy and told them that the Thorn Corporation suite would be being used by friends of his and what ever they wanted was the go on the Thorn account.

“Now you have a place to stay. Do you have a car?”

“Not yet.”

A call now went to the Thorn garage and told them to immediately bring a car over to the hotel. Paul started to request a driver, but a quick wave of Xander’s hand made him belay the order, and he hung up. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”   

“Will do. Otherwise, come and see us Sunday morning and let us know how everything went.” Xander extended his hand and Paul took it. “And thanks for the place to stay.” 

“No problem, glad I can help.” He shook Delia’s hand as well.  

“We’ll see you Sunday.”

They were downstairs for twenty minutes when a car and driver arrived. The man loaded their luggage into the trunk, then handed them the keys to the car, and as the pair made their way to the Savoy, they could still feel Paul’s disappointment at their departure.

Chapter Text

They had eaten breakfast and were now sitting in bed, their legs wrapped around each other. She had hung on to the fruit from their meal and had put a grape between her teeth, and he reached over to take it from her, but she quickly sucked the grape into her mouth. His lips landed on hers instead. She could feel him smile as he kissed her.

“That’s yummier than the grape, Deedle.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” She kissed him back, looked around and stretched. “This is more like it. Crystal chandeliers, gold plated faucets and, most importantly, people at our beck and call 24/7. I’m filthy rich, why don’t I live like this?” She unwrapped her legs from around her brother, turned around and leaned against him so that her back was against his chest.

“That, Delia, is a very good question. Now comes the answer. People interfere with our ability to have fun in the house.” He kissed up the side of her neck.  

“What kind of fun, Xander?”

“Name it and the kinds of things we like to do are ruined by the presence of homo sapiens sapiens, well, unless we’re torturing and killing them. Your choice, we can have people running around our home in New Haven, serving us hand and foot, or I can strip you naked, bend you over the dining room table, day or night and, well, I’m sure my very intelligent sister is smart enough to figure out what happens after that.”

He pushed her forward so that she was lying on the bed on her stomach. He got up on all fours and began kissing his way from her tail bone up to the base of her neck, making her giggle and moan.

“Mmm, I like that last one...let’s keep doing that.” 

“We can do that last one right now. If you want.”

She rolled over so that she was facing him, and he straddled her. She reached up and touched his face. “I very much want.”

“And what my sister wants, she gets.” 

“I want my brother.” 

None of this would ever get old...loving him, kissing him, touching him, being with him. He was her heart and soul, and her life, and where he went, she would follow, even if he betrayed their father, Satan, and his fate.

“I love you, Xander, always and forever.” 

“I love you, Deedle, forever and always.” 

He was inside of her, and she pulled him down, holding tightly onto him as she wrapped her legs around his thighs.

The sex was relatively quick, they had things that needed doing, but they had reached out to each other during all of it, their thoughts and feelings mingling with the other’s.

“Well done, little brother.”

“Who you callin’ little?” 

She put her hands on his chest to push him off, which he did, eventually jumping out of bed. He reached out and she took his hand and pulled her up and she stood beside him.  

“Younger, Delia, not little.” 

“Mere semantics, Xander”  

“We’ll see about little, in the shower.” 

“Promises, promises.”

She closed the bathroom door behind them…

After their shower, they dried off and dressed; they needed to go out and make some purchases before their visit to Pereford tomorrow. Last night before going to sleep, they had brainstormed and now they sat at the table looking over what they had written.

“Xander, I don’t even know where to start.”  

“Oh, I think we both know where to start. Please explain to me how it its possible to conceive a child...where she conceived a child.” 

“That can’t be real.” 

“I don’t know, Paul wasn’t lying.”

“But why have a baby born that way? It’s gross.” She shuddered.

“And how? To make Damien, Satan possessed a jackal because He needed his parts to be compatible with a female jackal’s parts, and so that she could carry Damien in her womb. Though, she did carry a human shaped baby so, I don’t know, anything is possible, I guess.”

“Luke 21:8... ‘Take heed that ye be no deceived: for many shall come in my name, saying, I am christ; and the time draweth near; go ye not therefore after them.’

“Earthquakes, famines, pestilence...Jerusalem surround by armies...desolation. Nice to know that Paul is stupid enough to be using the enemy’s marching orders as our own. And why doesn’t he have the Daggers? Damien took them after he killed the priests. They should have been in his residence and found once Paul had sorted through Damien’s belongings after he died.” 

He threw up his arms in frustration. “This place is upside down and backwards...chickens running around with their heads cut off; only the chickens are still trying to tell everyone what to do.”  He took a drink of coffee and then looked at his sister, his attitude softening. “How does he not have a name? Some states won’t let you leave the hospital without naming your child. Why doesn’t he want a name for himself?” 

“I don’t know. Why didn’t Damien live in the official residence of the Ambassador?” 

“This place is making my head spin.”

“And we didn’t get very much figured out either.” 

“I have a feeling that for good or bad, going to that house tomorrow is going to go a long way towards helping us doing that.”  

...666...

They were in the woods, far enough from the house not to be seen. Yesterday, they had bought dark clothing, and binoculars, which they were now employing, the lenses trained on the front of the house waiting for the occupants to leave. Paul was already there; his car was parked in the driveway.  

He had called them last night and had given them the plan. He would come at eleven and take the boy and George into the city. They would have lunch somewhere, see the movie and then stop for ice-cream; he planned to have everyone back by five. Paul informed the siblings where to leave the car and where they could wait until he left with the boy and George. He had wished them good luck, and Xander had told him to have fun and reminded him to come and see them the next day.

They had been there for nearly fifteen minutes when the door of the house opened and Paul stepped out, followed by someone who they guessed was George. There was a pause and then he walked out and the gasps that the twins let escape from their lips were quickly stifled fearing that somehow, they could be heard by the three individuals leaving the house.  

Paul had said that he was the spit of Damien, and logically, they had understood what that meant...but understanding it was one thing, seeing it was something else, because out of the door of the mansion stepped an eighteen-year-old Damien Thorn.

Their father had shown them pictures of himself at Yale, his first year at college, just like they had just experienced at Harvard. Even then, any picture taken that had girls in it had all of them staring at him, not at the camera. His charm and confidence came across even in the photographs and would have been enough to make most women fall head over heels in love with him.  

But the minute the boy came into view, they understood what Paul had meant. He physically looked like Damien, but that’s where the resemblance started and ended. It was like someone had taken a person and had tried to stuff him a Damien Thorn suit and had done an extraordinarily bad job of it.  

That Damien had had a poker face as a vast understatement. Even under the strain of the so-called birth of the nazarene, he had been able to maintain the semblance of normalcy and had, surreptitiously, ran the largest business on Earth and had managed his duties as Ambassador to Great Britain. It had fooled Kate and everyone else.

But this boy wore himself on his sleeve. He looked back inside, as if he were an agoraphobe leaving the house for the first time, though Paul had said he took walks on the grounds. He sniffed the air, apprehensive at first, as if he could smell if the nazarene was close by. He fearfully glanced around him, but he looked at Paul, who must have had a smile on his face, because the boy grinned triumphantly. Both he and George got into the back seat and Paul got behind the wheel, and the car shortly left the grounds.  

Walking, the twins made their way to the house and to the gate, which didn’t have anyone manning it and had been shut and locked once the trio had left in the car. Delia put her hand on the gate; it swung open.

The outside of the house was gorgeous, the estate massive and more impressive than their own house in Chicago. But their home had a certain understated elegance that had pleased the Thorns who lived there. They got up to the front door and again opened it without the need of a key.  

They put one foot inside and immediately stepped back out again, pulling the door closed.  

“Xander, I can’t go in there.” Sweat had popped up along her hairline.

“What the fuck? What is this?”

She could feel her brother’s terror and it was added to her own. “The last time I was this scared was when I was in...” 

“...their church for the first time. I want to run away. Why do we feel like this?” 

“I don’t know,” her voice was small and weak, and she wanted her father.

“We have to do this. The answer is in here, and whatever it is that we are here to fix, is in this house.” He was trying to plaster confidence over his escalating nausea and fear.

“I know.” She held out her hand and he took it.

“We’re Thorns and we can do anything.”  

“Damn straight.” She gave him a shaky smile.  

They opened the door again and stepped inside and closed the door behind them. Next, they removed their shoes, sat cross-legged on the marble floor in the foyer, and waited...  

The dog came from their left and they turned and looked at him, but even if they had not seen him, they would have smelled him; he reeked. More than once, their dogs had rolled in something questionable and seemed to, on those occasions especially, loved to rub themselves on everyone, but this was different.

The dog stank of death and the word abattoir had come into both their heads.  

He stood there, backing up and moving forward and stopping; he was confused. He let out a few odd barks and woofs whimpers and whines and shook his head a few times. He checked behind him, as if he expected to see his Master standing there. He began shaking.

They felt horrible for him, but they did the best thing they could do: remained calm and sent their strength to him. They didn’t speak. Words were for people to use, so for now, the siblings were silent.  

Apparently over his confusion, he began to slowly move forward, head down, his tiny tail tucked close into his body, he came to them, pushing against Xander, but he gave Delia his head as well.  

If his body stank, his breath was beyond their ability to describe it.

She frowned, opened his mouth and examined him. Stuff, and that was as far as she was letting her overactive imagination go, was stuck between his teeth.

“Poor Milo. Yes, that’s you. We named all of our dogs Milo. You can be Milo, too. Would you like that?”   

The dog licked her face, and she gagged.

Milo sat, his tail thumping excitedly on the floor, and turned his attention to the other Thorn.  

He stroked down the dog’s sticky back and gave him a scratch at the base of his tail. Next, he moved up and gave Milo some hearty scratching behind the ears. It was if a deluge had been unloosed and the dog began licking his face. He threw himself onto the floor, offering his belly to Xander, who dutifully gave it a scratch. Delia reached over and did the same.  

“He’s starved for affection. Even Damien gives his dog a belly scratch on occasion. Hey, Milo, don’t you get your belly scratched? All of our dogs love a good belly scratch, especially from Delia, but I just think that’s because she’s a girl. What’s been going on here, fella, bad things? We’re going to see if we can’t put some bad things right. We’re counting on you to be connected to God, to Satan, and for you to be above everything that’s going on here because we may need your help.”   

The dog sat up and was very still, as if to say that he could be counted on to help with whatever was needed, but then came over to Xander and nuzzled him.  

“We are going to have to burn these clothes because that stench is never coming out of what we’re wearing. Hey, Milo, wanna help us look around?”  

The dog began wagging his tail, excited at the thought of spending time with his new Masters. They took in their surroundings. In many respects, it was like their home in Chicago, gorgeous, timeless, well-furnished, but there was also something cloying about the place...and ominous; as far as they were concerned, they couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

He looked down at the dog and around the house and began laughing

“What?”  

“We’re investigating a creepy, mysterious house with a dog...”  

Her eyes widened and she started laughing. “Holy shit, we’re in an episode of Scooby-Doo.” 

“I hope at the end of this is the butler in disguise telling us he would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for us meddling kids, but I don’t think so.”  

They decided to start their search on the first floor. Dining room, sitting room, foyer, family room all what they would have expected in a house like this...expensive and well looked after. Both noticed that the sitting room looked like it hadn’t seen visitors since Damien had lived there.  

Kitchen, well-maintained and contained what they assumed were all the mod cons. A quick look in the fridge, pantry and cupboards revealed that it was well-stocked.

They went into the basement and then into the cellar, where they found preserves and an excellent selection of wines.  

The rest of the first floor had yielded nothing of importance so now the trio stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor. The twins looked at each other...now would come the test.  

Xander got down to eye level with the dog, who reached out and licked his face. “Hey, Milo, where’s his bedroom?” 

The dog began walking up the stairs and they followed. At the top of the stairs, the dog waited for them and then he went to his right, walking until he got to a door that was closed. The dog sat, thumped his tail on the carpeted floor and waited.

“Hey, I forgot.” She reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out a treat. “This is for you, for being a very good boy.”  

He sucked it up like a vacuum cleaner.

“Good job.”  Xander scratched behind the dog’s ear.

The door opened when they turned the knob, but in this instance because it wasn’t locked. He could see the light switch on the side of the wall and toggled the switch, but nothing happened; either there was no bulb, or it was burned out.  

“Hang on.”  

Delia ran back downstairs to the living room and the dog followed her and stopped at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to return, which she did...with a lamp. She gave Milo another treat and he devoured that one as quickly as the first.  

They had also brought flashlights with them, and Xander shone his on the bottom of the wall until he found a socket. She handed him the lamp and he plugged it in, and he smiled in the dark.  

“And Satan said...let there be light.” He pulled the cord and very quickly the smile fell away.

The room was the color of dried blood. It was tiny with a narrow bed as its sole piece of furniture; it most definitely was not the room that Damien would have slept in while he had lived here. The window, and there was only one, was covered with a thick curtain. They stood in the middle of the room and spun, taking it all in. It looked like a jail cell.

The wall was also covered with a collage of humanity’s worst examples, or best depending on how one cared to look at it, of man’s inhumanity to his fellow man, concentration camps, Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot. On the collage, the boy had written something in the same color as the paint on the walls

REHEARSALS

However bad all of this was, it was a warmup to the main attraction of nuclear annihilation.  

On either side of the collection of pictures were two pictures: one of Damien and the other was Kate’s tombstone.

He shook his head and brought out the other piece of equipment that they had come with them, an instant camera.  

Once he was done with the photograph taking, he turned to his sister. “I’m no psychiatrist, but I’m going to go out on a fairly secure limb and say he is out of his fucking mind. This is the bedroom of a serial killer, and I’m not being facetious when I say that.” 

“You’re not going to get an argument from me, on either of those points.”  

They stood there for a few more moments. They were pretty sure that everything looked the same and that nothing had been disturbed. He unplugged the lamp, and left the room, closing the door behind them. She ran back downstairs to return the lamp and when she came back up, Xander was standing next to a doorway that led to stairs.  

“Three guesses what’s up these and the first two do not count.”  

Delia frowned. Whatever badness they could feel within the house was coming from up these stairs. She didn’t want to move forward, and she could also feel her brother’s trepidation, but they had little choice if they wanted to find out what was going on.

“Onwards and upwards.” He walked through the doorway, put his hand on the banister and began the ascent.  

She took a deep breath and followed him up the stairs.

There were two floors before they got to the top and each step to their destination was more difficult than the last. It was like they were walking through ever thickening ooze until the pair of them collapsed against the banisters, like two senior citizens who were unable to pick up their feet to get up one more step.  

“I’m dying inside.” 

He was drenched with sweat. His T-shirt was soaked through, and it looked like he had taken a shower with it on. He was having trouble breathing and it was taking everything he could muster to not hurl himself down the stairs to get away from what was happening to him.

“It’s worse than being in their church. It feels like Damien and Satan are hurting us.” 

Like her brother, her sweat was dripping off her in loud plops onto the rug and she was on the verge of hysterics that would send her screaming from the house.  

“Miasma.” He looked at her.

“Pollution...disease...there is something very rotten not only in the state of Denmark, but in the whole fucking world and it all comes from this house and up these stairs. Oedipus Rex...I remember Dr. D’Onofrio telling us that that’s what was wrong with Athens, there was a miasma that had to be found and destroyed. Of course, Oedipus, chock-full of hubris, took it on himself to get the job done; turned out, he was the miasma.”  

“But we’ve been sent here by God, we aren’t going against Fate.” 

“I know; I hope so anyway, but I’ll tell you something else, just like Oedipus, we are not going to be happy with what we find. Nothing that is making us feel this bad is going to be good.” Delia reached out her hand and he took it and they both continued to their destination.  

At the top, there was a landing and they were facing a wall with no other way to turn but to their right where they found a locked door and collapsed against either side of it. They didn’t dare sit because they wouldn’t have been able to get back up again.  

“How is it that we’ve climbed Kilimanjaro, and I feel worse now than I did then?” He was huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath.

“I don’t know, and I’d prefer never to find out.”

Delia was doing her best to try of center herself and remain calm. She was pretty sure that when she got back to the hotel, she’d spend the next twenty-four hours comatose trying to recover from this.

Milo had accompanied them up the stairs and now was nudging and licking their hands in an attempt to bolster their spirits.  

She bent down and kissed him between the eyes. “Is this what you live with? Poor baby. If you lived with us, I’d bathe you and take you to vet to get your teeth all nice and clean because apparently being a familiar from Satan doesn’t protect you from gross doggy breathe, even for our dogs. If anything has to happen to him, we want you to come live with us.”    

Xander let out a snort of laughter. “Just what father wants, another dog, but you bet, you’ll come with us.”  

She straightened up and the two of them braced themselves as he opened the door, which had been locked.

Suddenly, the entrance to the worse place on Earth had been opened. Everything that they had been feeling, fear, loneliness, rage, anxiety, hate, worry, doubt, sadness, grief was trebled, quadrupled by opening the door. Neither wanted to go in; in the whole of their lives, neither had not wanted to not do anything like not wanting to walk into that room, but they knew that they had to.

They stood outside the door looking into the darkened room, gripped by nausea, clinging onto each other. Not only for support, but to prevent the other from running away.  

“Xander.” Her chest heaved and she sobbed against her brother as he held her.

He kissed the top of her head as he fought back his own tears. Their sadness was not only because they were at the end of their emotional tethers, but they knew that the sanctity of the room and been desecrated.  

Each could remember the first time they had been in their own Chapel. Delia, finally being able to understand and articulate what had been so special about the room for all those years. Alexander, so overwhelmed at feeling God for the first time that it had driven him to his knees, and he had wept in his father’s arms. That feeling of Satan in the room, calling to them, beckoning them forward to be one with Him in the peace and tranquility of that room.

That that was absent in here.

Instead, there was the cloying feeling of being in one of their churches mixed with the love of Damien, and stronger, Satan. It was making them ill, but this was the last place they had to investigate. Once they were done here, they could go.

He took a few shaky breaths and turned on the flashlight and shone it on Chapel floor. There didn’t seem to be anything that would indicate whether someone had walked inside. He took a few steps in and then shone the light behind him. No footprints. Delia came in next.  

The room was dark, much darker than their own Chapel was, and he turned the flashlight up: there was no skylight, but he moved his flashlight and quickly found a plinth with an unlit candle.  

She reached out and grabbed her brother’s hand that held the torch, and the light landed on something.

Damien had told them that at one time, he had had an effigy of their christ in the Chapel. It had helped him focus his energies, particularly when he thought that the nazarene had been reborn but had gotten rid of it once everything was over and realized that his intense emotional reaction had been part of the reason that Satan had not been able to reach him.

Damien’s son had kept that effigy.

The light caught something shiny. There, embedded in the spine of the nazarene, was one of the seven Daggers.  

“Xander, what’s that?”  

She moved forward. It looked like a dummy; but what would a dummy be doing up here seemingly staring at the effigy of their christ?  She reached out to touch it and then stopped because she could feel evil radiating from the object...could this be what was causing these feelings in both her and her brother and making the room so unbearable to be in?  

Tufts of dark hair were stuck to the head. She stepped back and took in the object as a whole, seeing it for what it was. The blood drained from her face and for the first time since she had mastered using the toilet, she was in serious danger of pissing in her pants. It was no dummy she was staring at. It was a body, a very dead body.  

Delia was face-to-face with the well-preserved corpse of Damien Thorn.  

She was suddenly moving backwards, and she didn’t know how she was doing that until she realized that Xander had his arm around her waist and was dragging her out of the room. She found her feet and the two of them flew down the stairs that lead up to the Chapel and then down the main stairs leading to the foyer and he threw open the door.  

Outside was sunny and warm. Birds chirped in the trees and two squirrels chased each other up and down a large oak. It was a perfect day for picnicking with you best girl or fellow; going to the beach; or relaxing in a hammock, lazily consuming a cold beer.  

Yet both Thorns felt chilled to the bone and shivered in the hot foyer.  

Delia came over and stood by the open door. Both of them wanted to run...run and then drive as fast as their feet, and then car, would carry them.

But it was wishful thinking on their parts and Xander shut the door. They had been sent here to do a job and they would see it through to the end regardless of the consequences.

Both slid down the door, their asses hitting the floor and drew their legs up to their chests. They couldn’t afford to do anything more than that. If they broke down at this point, there could be no finishing what they had started.

They sat there, dejected, and lost when Xander had an idea: if he couldn’t do it for himself...he spat into his hand and turned to his sister. “I promise to be strong for Delia.” 

She lifted her head from off her knees and held up her hand and spit in it. “I promise to be strong for Xander.”  

They shook hands and she wiped her hand on her brother’s pantleg.

The dog was laying with his head on Xander’s feet, whining, not for himself, but for the dreadful mood that his Masters were in.  

“What we need, Deedle, is a happy thought,” his voice was shaky and happy thoughts seemed as far away as Mount Kilimanjaro.

“Like Peter Pan?”   

“Exactly.”  

She was silent and then she turned and gave her brother a wan smile. “This isn’t our first time being in England.”  

He knew what she had in mind and nodded at her. “You go first. You knew who Damien was before I did; you go first and last.”   

“We came when we were twelve, after you knew who you were. Before we did anything else, or went anywhere else, Damien took us to all the places where he killed the priests to get the Daggers.

“The first one, in the BBC studio where Kate interviewed him for the first time. The BBC wanted to do an interview with him...catching up...what was fatherhood like blah, blah, blah. Damien had asked one of the stage managers if it was okay if he took his children to have a bit of a look-see...not a problem. He had taken us to Studio 4. It was used for something different now, but he had smiled and looked up and we looked up, too. The priest had been on the catwalk, but his foot got caught on some rope and he lost his balance and fell...first through some plastic sheeting then through a light...one less, though slightly more charbroiled, priest.” She smiled.

Hand-in-hand, they were walking up the stairs, back to the Chapel.  

Xander continued, “Damien killed three at one time. The plan was to jump him in an abandoned church and once Damien came in, one of them threw his coat over him, I guess that they could stab our father to death, but they didn’t want to look at him while they did it. However, when they removed the coat, they had found that they had stabbed one of their own instead. Damien forced the other of them into an abandoned stairwell that had been sealed off and then locked the grate and left them there. They were still there when we went...much deader of course. Aw, Deedle, you get my favorite.”   

“Mine too, but it’s okay, you go.”  

They were outside the door to the Chapel. The walk up the stairs was less difficult than before, the telling of the story of how Damien had bested the priests had helped.   

“Two priests...at a fox hunt. One of the priests had used a decoy fox to get father away from the larger pack and it worked, and they trapped Damien on a bridge.”  

They entered the room. Now that they knew what was there, it was difficult not to look, but they went first to the effigy of the nazarene, and he took a picture of the dagger.

“Damien turned to the priest on the horse and made it imagine that it was being ripped apart by jackals. The horse threw off his rider over the side of the bridge. Damien had had to ride down the steep embankment afterwards to get the Dagger, but first, he turned to the other priest and set the hounds on him, and they ripped him to shreds.”   

They were at the body. He took pictures of the support that was being used to hold up the body. For good measure, they shone their flashlights around the room, but there didn’t seem as if there was anything else of use for them.

“Last, but certainly not least, DeCarlo, the priest who failed to murder the Antichrist. The man who went to his grave knowing what fucking liars you and your father are.” She smirked. “Damien Thorn drove a dagger right through his fucking eye.”

She was face-to-face with the effigy and her eyes narrowed to slits. Xander stood behind it, as if trying to prevent the christ from leaving.

“We drove the three hours from London to Fountains Abbey. Damien parked on the road, and we walked into the church. Xander and I went to the place where, in our dreams, we had seen our father die, but it didn’t matter because Damien was alive. Father brought us to the spot where he had seen through your deception, and we opened a bottle of champagne and passed it around and celebrated.” 

Xander moved closer to the effigy, his mouth by its left ear. “We celebrated because Damien lived, and you were never reborn; we won, and you lost.”  

“Because where we come from, we’re smarter than you are.” She jammed her index finger into his forehead.

He smiled and held out his hand; Delia took it, and they walked out of the room closing the door behind them, checking to see if it was locked, which it was.  

It was important now to be calm and make sure that they didn’t leave any trace of their presence. They went through the house again, though they hadn’t really touched anything, and Delia went back out into the living room and made sure the lamp looked right, and she returned to Xander, who was sitting on the floor of the foyer with the dog in his lap.  

She came over and sat beside her brother. The dog looked over at her and gave her the most pitiful look that she had ever seen; her heart broke.

“Milo, sweetheart, we can’t take you with us. He’ll know that something is wrong if we do. You have to stay here to help us. We are going to come back and put Damien’s body to rest and for that to happen, we need our dog on the inside and that’s you.”  

“We told you we’ll take you with us and we will, I promise, but we need you to listen for us, in here.” He tapped the side of Milo’s head. “When that happens, we need him out of the house and that’s where you come in.”  

Milo got up, turned and sat.  

“We all have to be brave packmates right now, okay?”

The dog looked stoically at him.  

They opened the door and got their shoes; he came closer and watched them.

Once she was done putting on her shoes, she bent down and kissed the dog between his eyes. “We’ll be back, we promise.”   

“As you were, soldier.”  

The dog backed away and moved towards the dining room but stopped and looked back.  

“We promise.” He crossed his heart.

Milo turned and disappeared around the corner from where he had come.  

Delia made sure that they had everything and then they left the house, pulling the door closed. She then tested; it wouldn’t open. They hoped that that meant everything was fine and there was no need to go back for the moment. They made their way to the gate, which like earlier, opened for them and they went through it and closed it behind them. They walked and as they walked, she looked over at Xander and she could feel the loosening of the reigns that were holding him in place. She sent two words to him: let go.  

He ran, getting far enough away from the house in case Paul and the others came back early. He was nearly at the car when he fell to his knees, leaned forward on his hands and vomited, wanting to get out all that poison that he could feel inside of him; he kept going until he had nothing left to throw up. 

The next thing he knew, he was sobbing in his sister’s arms. He wanted out of this place. He wanted to be home, hanging out in the woods with the dogs, or sitting at the kitchen table while Cecile puttered around in the kitchen making him lunch. He wanted to be in their Chapel where he could feel God, whole and pure. He wanted to be alone with Delia in one of their bedrooms making love to her, listening to her whisper his name in his ear and feeling her arms around him.

But more than anything, Xander wanted his father. The last time he had wanted Damien this badly, he had been tied in a chair, narrowly avoiding getting raped and murdered and then, like now, he was terrified that he would never lay eyes on his father again.  

She was stroking his hair, telling him that once everything was done here, they could go home; but he knew that might not be the case, but for now, he let himself believe what she was saying, and he let it comfort him.  

The sobbing subsided and he wiped the snot and tears off his face and he shakily got to his feet.

She got up, smoothed the hair away from his face and leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. “I can wait until we get back to the hotel. You just be as okay as you can be.” 

She drove them back into the city, sending her love to Xander as he sat in the front seat beside her, his head against the window, silently crying.  

They walked as quickly as they could through the lobby, hoping not to draw attention to themselves. They would have preferred to take the stairs, less chance of anyone running into them, but neither had the energy. They knew that the way Milo stank had not been just them because the people on the elevator with them had made faces like the pair of them had stepped in something.  

On the ride up, Xander contained himself, made himself strong for his sister, because just as she had felt him begin to unravel, so could he feel her to lose her battle against her self-control. One foot inside their room and she went running to the bathroom and had just barely made it to the toilet when she began throwing up.

He hung out the DO NOT DISTURB sign, closed the door, and locked it and then went to her. She was trying to vomit and get undressed at the same time, but it wasn’t working.

“Delia, puke now; undress, after.”  

She took her brother’s advice and stopped trying to take off her clothes and focused on puking up everything, all the evilness that she had felt while she had been in the house...she wanted to purge it all from her body. Like him, she stopped when she had nothing else to vomit up. 

He had taken off his clothing and helped his sister to her feet and steadied her as she undressed. He turned on the shower and made sure that it was hot, but bearable and they got in and she collapsed down the side of the shower, sobbing, and shaking as he had done earlier.  

Xander held her as she cried and he made the same promise to her that she had made to him...that they would go home when all of this was done, except he pushed down the rage that wanted to boil over and be unleashed on anyone and everyone responsible for his sister’s emotional meltdown...the boy, them, Paul, whom he wanted to kill with his bare hands, but he replaced all the rage with love for his sister and sent that to her. Soon, she coughed and sniffled and wiped the snot and tears from her face and with his help, got to her feet.  

Both stood under the hot water wanting to wash away all that they had endured at the boy’s house, but it felt like it would be seared into their flesh forever.

Eventually, they got out of the shower and dried themselves off. Next, they put on their pajamas and Xander called downstairs and ordered a pot of tea, chicken noodle soup, toast and ginger ale and fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door.  

While he had been ordering food, she had taken the clothes that they had been wearing and stuffed them into one of the garbage bags and when the man arrived with their food, she handed him the bag and told him to throw it away.    

They ate in silence, for there were no words and both were too tired to talk. Xander looked at the clock; it was nearly seven. Paul would be back at the house by now. They would deal with everything tomorrow, but tonight they needed rest.  

Once they had finished eating, he pushed the cart outside and made sure the sign was on the door and both of them went into the bathroom to brush their teeth.

It was still light outside, and the room was fairly bright, even with the curtains drawn. Delia was already in bed, shivering and barely able to keep her eyes open, but she was waiting for Xander to come and to join her before she would fall asleep. They would sleep in the same bed, neither cared who came in and saw them.

She wrapped herself around her brother and he held her tightly and as the two of them fell asleep, they knew Paul would be there in the morning, hopefully to answer the one word that each had uttered while they had fallen apart in the other’s arms...

Why?  

Chapter Text

Delia rolled over and looked at the clock; it was six-thirty and for a moment, she couldn’t understand how she had woken up before she had fallen asleep, but then it dawned on her…it was six-thirty in the morning and she had been asleep for nearly twelve hours.

She heard the toilet flush and then the sound of running water and then Xander came out of the bathroom. He sat down on the bed.

“How are you?”   

She sat up and shrugged. “I’ve been better. Do I look as bad as you do?”   

His normally bright, tanned skin looked gray and sallow, and he had bags under his eyes; he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I feel worse than I look. Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled. “Starving. Yesterday, I think I puked up everything I ever ate.” 

“What would you like?” 

She only shrugged again, too exhausted to put in the mental effort to pick something out for breakfast.

He ordered room service, triple of everything...cereal, toast, bacon, fruit, juice, coffee, tea, water, several cans of cola and once it all arrived, they ate, even Delia, who was no great consumer of traditional breakfast fare.

Once they were done, Xander pushed the cart into the hall, and as she watched him close the door and come back to her, she was filled with an ache and a loneliness that threatened to consume her. She wanted him. To feel him against her, inside of her, to be one with him. To put her forehead against his and make colours and float away to that place within themselves where each only let in the other. She reached out to him, but he shook his head.

“We can’t. Paul will be here soon, we have to have this shit figured out, and I want to take a shower.” 

“Alright.” She stood to go with him.

“By myself. I won’t be long.”

She sat again as he went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and she was left feeling more alone than she ever had in her entire life.

He was right when he had said that he wasn’t going to be long, but then again, they hadn’t been in there together, distracting each other. She had wanted a shower as well, one, she had hoped, that would have come after lovemaking. She herself wasn’t long, and she quickly dried off, dressed, and joined her brother at the table.

He had emptied out the contents of the knapsack, but didn’t know where to start, it was all too much to take in and comprehend. He picked up the photo of the boy’s room and stared at it.

Delia felt horrible for him. That she was depressed and her mood leaden was one thing; she was used to being the family Eeyore, but feeling it from him just made everything worse. She gingerly took the photo from him.

“Color Therapy 101? Never paint your bedroom red; that equals rage. Maroon floor and ceiling.” She shook her head. “It’s like he’s trying to keep himself in a state of constant anger. It must be angry bees in his head 24/7.”

He turned around two pictures, one of Damien and the other of Kate’s tombstone. “I can’t imagine...no Damien. No football games in the backyard, no Thanksgiving BBQs at Thomas’s. Fuck, I can almost taste his chicken and Cecile’s ribs. No good night tuck ins. No lectures about crap...I’d give anything to be in the study and have him going off on me over something.” He stared at the pictures. “This is about wanting parents, but it’s also about blaming Kate for Damien’s death. How much do you want to make a bet that he hates women?” 

“Sorry, but that’s a losing bet.”  

He picked up a photo, intending to continue perusing the stack of pictures that he had taken in the room, when something suddenly occurred to him.

“What if...Paul said it wasn’t that easy to just give up control of whatever was going on...then he brought up Damien’s son. I thought that it was just letting us know that Damien had a child here; but, what if there’s more. What if the boy is the one pulling the strings? What if he is the one in charge?” 

“Why? The boy’s unhinged. Paul has to have seen something of that.”   

“He’s also the Antichrist reborn. What else would Paul do but be at his beck and call.” He looked at the pictures again. “I said that this was the bedroom of a serial killer. Whom do they idolize?” 

“Usually other serial killers.”    

He picked up the picture of Hitler. “Okay, well these aren’t pictures of Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer; these are pictures of some of the most destructive and hateful humans to ever walk the face of the Earth. If the boy, admires, which is the wrong word, but I’ll use it anyway, these lunatics...” 

“He’s not just prophesying Armageddon; he’s actively trying to make it happen. But why? That’s not what Satan wants. He wants this Earth. He wants to make what they have, His.”

“The boy and Paul aren’t on the same page and I don’t think he truly understands how fucked up Damien’s son is.”  

She was silent for a moment. “How long do you think Damien has been there?” 

“I don’t know. I hate the thought of him on display in that room; it’s gross and vulgar.”  

“Everything about this place is gross and vulgar. We still haven’t got to a satisfactory answer concerning the boy and his procreation. We do you think Paul didn’t warn us about what we’d find in the Chapel?”  

“Maybe he didn’t think that it would bother us.” 

Delia was about to protest but thought better of it. After all, the boy didn’t find it objectionable that his father’s body was on display like some kind of horrific museum piece, rather than in the ground or in the Thorn mausoleum.

He picked up the other pictures, leaving the ones of Damien’s body alone for now, and focused on four of them. They weren’t the best quality, they had themselves been instant pictures. He looked at them until he understood what he was seeing and quickly put them back on the table.

“What?”  

“Nothing.”  

“I felt you, that wasn’t nothing.” She reached for the pictures, but he stopped her.

“Don’t.”  

“Don’t you dare hide things from me! We’re in this together and I want to know!” 

“Fine. There you go.” He picked them up and slammed them down on her side of the table.

One by one, she picked them up. It was a woman...pretty, except for the fact that she was clearly dead. The next photo, the same woman, but in a more advanced stage of decomposition. The third photo still further decomposed; she didn’t need to see the fourth one. It just wasn’t that the boy had taken pictures of the woman, more likely than not, he had killed her, it was that both she and Xander recognized the black background; she had been left to rot in the Chapel.

“With all due sincerity, Xander, I want to go the fuck home. Like now. In fact, now isn’t soon enough.” 

She was on the verge of tears. All of this was starting to be too much for her, and in her heart of hearts, it was looking like going home was becoming less and less of an option. But if she couldn’t go home, she wanted her brother, who, while he was sitting only an arm’s length away, was further from her than their father, her house, her dog, and a life she wanted to get back to more than anything.

“I know, but we have to keep working on this.” 

She gave him a thin smile. “I know. It’s just...”  

She couldn’t articulate the words. They wouldn’t come to her. She had never, in the whole of her life, ever been unable to express herself to her twin.

He took a breath. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning. I’m Satan and somehow, I make it so my son can conceive where Kate conceived a child.” He looked across at her. “Damien tells you that that’s how you came into the world...how does it make you feel?”  

“I don’t want to feel it or think about it.” 

“Think of how father raised us. When we were little, he told us that we were Thorns, we were special. We behaved well in public because people had to see that Thorns behaved better than other people. But what he was really saying was that you are a part of Satan, and you will behave better than people do.”

She shook her head. “That boy is everything Damien despises about satanism. He’s every person who comes to us who wants to use Satan as an excuse to be break the rules and be ‘bad.’ It tells me everything I need to know about the kinds of disciples who’ve been taking care of him. He must be lonely. He doesn’t have anyone. Not really, anyway.”

“Assuming that the body doesn’t serve some other purpose.” 

“You think it could be totemic?” 

“You could feel it in that room; that abhorrent melding of us and them. The boy thinks he’s communing with his father. Meanwhile, he’s just stuck in a loop that they’ve created inside of him; a loop that’s programmed to be his destruction. They hijacked that room. He can’t even be at peace inside of it. What?” He could feel her mood shift.

She had gotten up to get another can of soda from the refrigerator, but she had stopped. Her hands were on her mouth, fists balled up as if she wanted to stuff back down what she had to say.

“Delia, you’re freaking me out. What is it?” He got up and went over to her.

“Satan had to possess a jackal to make Damien,” her voice was a whisper. She was pleading with her eyes; begging her brother to figure out what she was trying to get at without saying the words.

“I know, we’ve gone over that already. So how Satan was able to do it in this instance is beyond me.” 

“He didn’t.”  

Realization took hold and he stumbled back, nearly falling over the chair that he managed to sit on. He could feel the blood drain from his face.

“I knew they were evil, Xander. Low, deceitful, conniving, they’re all of those things and more, but this is...what they’ve done to that poor boy.”  

He closed his eyes. “Their god did this. He made that baby. He made Kate have a baby...and give birth that way. Why? Please tell me why they would do such a thing?”

Delia could feel her own hate radiating off of herself. “Because they’re them, that’s why. They’re filthy, and if ever there was anything that proves it, it’s this.”

“Not using all the Daggers on Damien, combined with a waiting vessel allowed the soul to be transferred to another body…the boy’s. Maybe, when he does die, he goes back fucked up, wrong, then it’s like…it poisons Satan somehow.  Maybe before He can make someone else, He needs to purify Himself. Maybe it stops Satan from having another child for a long time. I don’t know.”

“Xander, the situation in the Middle East…that’s the boy from the beginning to where we are now, and it doesn’t stop here. Like the cabbie had said, if it’s not the Middle East, it’s the Russians. Get the Chinese involved…”

“The nazarene isn’t even here. The so-called god is literally letting that boy commit genocide. Worth it for them, I suppose, if it means sidelining Satan for a time. Could…would being in the middle of an exploding nuclear bomb kill Damien?”

She shrugged. “I never even thought about that. We stopped making nuclear arms when the Cold War ended.”

“Either they didn’t know that the boy would get so far out of control, or they didn’t care. They probably assumed that if he lost it, someone, like Paul, would take care of him.”

“He’s lying to all of his disciples about what Damien and Satan want.”

“Or maybe whatever disciples he does have are as...nihilistic as he is, and they basically want the world to end just as much as he does.”

Delia got her can of soda, opened it, and came back to the table, but she couldn’t take a drink. She locked eyes with Xander, saying out loud what she had been considering since after they had returned from Pereford.

“We’re here to kill him.”

“The only question becomes whether I’m here to replace him, or if Satan at some point down the line starts again.”    

A ringing phone paused their conversation, and she picked it up and after telling the front desk person okay, she hung up.

“Paul?” 

She merely nodded in the affirmative and a few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Xander went to answer it.

“Good morning.”

Paul came in and smiled at them.

“Morning. How did it go yesterday?” He closed the door behind him.

“He seemed to enjoy himself. How did it go for you?” 

“It was an eye-opening experience.”  

Both could feel Paul’s sudden escalation of fear.

“There’s no reason to be afraid, but we need you to understand what we found, because what you’ve seen...you either don’t understand, or can’t accept.” 

Paul sat at the table while he rearranged and picked up the photos, placing two in front of him, the one of Damien, and the one of Kate’s headstone.

“First, the color of that room? Not good. Do you know what color prisons, hospitals and psych wards aren’t? Red. Why? Because those places want calm individuals so what you don’t do is paint your walls a color that makes people irritable. It’s like he’s trying to keep himself in a constant state of frenzy and those walls are helping to do that.” 

He put his finger on Damien’s face. “He wants a dad, and I think we both know how badly.” He put his finger over Kate’s grave. “He wants a mother, but that is also about blaming her for Damien’s death.”  

Paul looked up at him, but it was Delia who spoke.

“We don’t blame Kate. Damien killed her son; she did what many in her place would have done. She wanted revenge and here it worked. The nazarene? There’s your killer because nobody would have been in that church if it wasn’t for him and his lie.”  

He laid out the other photos. “You confirmed that you were a part of what was going on. You left out the part where the boy is in charge of everything.”  

“I’m the leg man, as it were; I run everything past him.”   

“You’re both using different playbooks. Do you have serial killers here?”  

“Yes.” 

“Well, this is the bedroom of a serial killer, and whenever he’s arrested, there are cameras rolling in his house and that is what it looks like. If he had pictures on his walls of Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, the victims of Jack the Ripper, or other dead girls.” He put out the pictures of the woman. “I wouldn’t care; let him sit in his room and do whatever floats his boat. But...Hitler, Stalin, images of mass destruction on an epic scale?  He wants to blow up the world Paul. He wants to destroy the human race and himself right along with it because he’s so fucking lonely it’s eating him alive. Am I correct in assuming that the original plan was to have him run Thorn?” 

Paul could only nod.

“They’re clouding your mind too, Paul, because you are smarter than this.” Delia came over to him. “He’s insane; certifiably out of his fucking mind. The prophecy about the world ending, your nightmares, that adds up to them messing with you.”

“He wants destruction.” Paul shook his head. “How could I have been so blind?” 

“Love, a desire to see Damien back in his rightful place, them inside of your head…it was easy for them to manipulate you.” 

Delia sat at the table, across from Paul. “You wanna know how Satan creates a child without a womb for said child? He doesn’t. They made him.” 

Paul looked from one to other. “What? No. Why? Why do that?”

“To poison him so that when he does die, either by nuclear destruction, or by your hand, Satan will possibly be prevented from creating another child…at least for a period of time.

“He’s then raised to believe that the nazarene is out there. But if he is here, where is he? Why hasn’t he shown up in eighteen years? But, sure, he’s alive somewhere, so the boy must be kept safe…sequestered away where he is seen to by the kinds of disciples who do see themselves as evil…the kinds of disciples we usually use and then get rid of.”

Xander had also taken a seat at this point. “Describe Damien.”

“Suave, sophisticated, erudite, urbane, witty, personable, educated, intelligent, fashionable. Was aware of the effect he had on men and women and used it to his advantage when the situation called for it.”

The twins watched as Paul transformed from someone citing a laundry list of qualities to someone remembering a man he had known for over thirty years, and despite the seriousness of the conversation, a small smile sat on his lips.

“Loved history and science. Had a very, very dry sense of humour when it came out. Otherwise, his jokes were awkward…unless he was being cruel. Damien Thorn could cut someone down at thirty paces with his tongue when he wanted to, and he usually wanted to.”

“Ah, like father like daughter.”

“Was an avid reader of historical fiction. His personability came from his ability to read people and put them at ease. He understood to whom he was speaking and knew how to talk to them to get them to see his point. He’d have gone over like gangbusters if he had been able to enter politics.”

Delia and Xander could have filled in so much more about their dad but now was not the time.

She took over from where her brother had started. “Describe the boy.”

Paul opened his mouth and then closed it. He did it three times before he gave up.

Xander sat back. “There you go. The perfect storm. Start him off wrong. Tell him the nazarene is out there, somewhere, waiting for him if he goes out. Then keep him away from people, society, schooling and anything else that not only prevents him from turning into a functional individual but also makes sure that there is zero chance that he’ll ever turn out to be anything like Damien. Cut him off from everything with no one to keep him company but disciples who might just be as eager as he is to see the world end.

“Or should I say cut off until he decided that he was going to have a father one way or another.” He put down the picture of the body.

Paul looked away.

“My sister’s older than I am, and I would still bank on her kicking my ass in a fight, but I’m highly protective of Delia and I had to watch her get very upset at the sight of...our father on display like some kind of horror show.” 

“He prays up there...holding its hand. I don’t know if he gets power from it, or he only thinks that, and he just misses having a father.”

“That’s it, Xander, I’m convinced that not all of Damien is inside that boy. I think the soul is split between them. Whatever…bullshit they used to cloud Damien’s mind from seeing the truth about the nazarene not being born never left him, even after death…it’s looped between from father and son.

“We would be putting Damien’s body to rest anyway, so let’s begin with there. If he’s drawing nourishment from the body, then we need to ween him from that corpse by getting rid of Damien first. Maybe the shock of the loss of his...power source will weaken or kill him.” 

“He’ll die?” 

“Damien, Me, Delia, the boy…we are all conduits. There is a connection between Satan and us. Well, for that boy, the conduit is damaged. He thinks he’s doing God’s work, but he’s really doing theirs. We can’t fix him, he needs to go back home, back to Satan to be integrated back into the Whole, which is possibly problematic, given it might hurt Him, but that’s what we’re here to do.

“It’s a falsehood that the Daggers destroy the soul. That can’t be done. Had all seven of them been used on Damien, even if he still had had a son, the soul would not have been able to be transferred from one to other.

“Whether or not I’m meant to replace him is irrelevant. The boy has to die. He’s tool for them and that has to come to an end.” 

Paul picked up one of the pictures of the woman, “She was a reporter. She apparently came snooping around Pereford and the boy killed her; thought she was there to seduce him, sent by the nazarene, like Kate supposedly seduced Damien. He...he killed her, and I asked him how he had disposed of her, and he told me he did what came natural for him...what comes naturally for a jackal.” 

“Where’s the nearest church from the house?”    

Paul turned to Delia. “Not far.”  

“Do you have the Daggers?”  

“Not yet, Xander. I’m looking.”

“You have one week to find them. Do you have disciples you can trust? Ones who don’t have a connection to the boy?”  

“Yes.”   

“Then get them on it.” 

“I will. We’ll talk later?”

“When you have the Daggers, call us.”

“Will do.”   

Paul left and it was just the Thorns alone in the room. Delia sat on the couch and drew her knees up to her chest. “He’s an animal; an animal on two legs that feels more comfortable being jackal than Man.”  

“He ate her.”

“Don’t say that, please don’t ever say those words out loud ever again. It’s beyond gross.” 

“I’m also going to bet that if she died a virgin, she wasn’t buried as one.”

She got up and put on her shoes and jacket. “I have to get out of here. I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back.”  

Delia turned her back on her brother and left, shutting the door behind her.

Chapter Text

It was five days later, as they slept in their own beds, that a ringing phone rudely jerked them awake in the middle of the night.

Xander answered it and hung-up moments later.

Delia sat, her legs over the side of the bed. “Paul?” 

“He’s on his way up.” 

They turned on some lights and grabbed robes and put them on. They were cinching the belts around their waists when there was a knock on the door. Xander went to open it.

“Sorry about the hour.” 

“Not at all.” He noticed the small leather satchel. “Are those what I think they are?” 

Paul opened the bag and placed its contents on the table...six very lethal looking Knives with the figure of their christ on the hilt. Delia and Alexander each picked up one of the Daggers of Megiddo and examined them.

“And you know where seven is.”

In their own timeline, neither had ever physically handled the Daggers; Damien had personally destroyed them, dropping them into Mount Etna. Delia put it down, rubbing her hands on her thighs, attempting to rid herself of the vile feeling they left on her skin. However, it was watching her brother, her sacred charge, handle the knives that was seriously starting to make her feel queasy.

“Okay, that’s enough.” She grabbed the Dagger out of his hand and put it back on the table.

“Where did you find them?” 

“Luckily, all six of them were in London...in Scotland Yard in the Black...”

“...Museum. We went there when we came to England for the first time.”

Paul left, there was a meeting that could not be missed, but he told them that he would come back later tomorrow and then they would go and do what needed to be done.

Delia and Alexander sat and began, as best they could, to strategize for tomorrow, seeing as how they couldn’t plan for the variable, the boy, and when the sun came up hours later, they were still working at it.

...666...

The next day found the Thorns near Pereford in the same spot where they had been days earlier; only this time Paul was with them.

Ideally, the dog would leave with his Master for a walk around the grounds. Paul would take George, along with the Daggers and Damien’s body, and the pair of them would go to the church and put the one-time Antichrist to rest; Delia and Alexander, with the boy, would follow as soon as they could.  If all went as planned, the son would shortly join his father.

All they could do right now was wait for Milo to do his part...

...666...

The boy stood outside the Chapel. He was bathed in sweat and the black cassock he was wearing reeked with the perspiration of endless hours holding onto his father’s hand and praying, gaining strength, and seeking guidance.

If it were up to him, he wouldn’t shower. He pointed out to Paul, who had remarked during one of his visits that he stank, that animals didn’t shower, but Paul reminded him that he was to take over Thorn one day and he needed to look the part; he had smiled at the man’s ignorance. He made his way downstairs, and in his room, he stripped naked, went to the bathroom, and took a shower. After, he dressed and went downstairs to eat.

George turned and smiled at the boy. “Just in time for lunch, sir.” 

He went out to the dining room and sat at the table and waited for his meal to be brought to him. Moments later, the dog came in and took his usual spot under the table.

George first brought out soup, which the boy attacked as if he were starving, eating as though he hadn’t eaten in days.

The older man internally winced as soup ran down the boy’s chin; he didn’t correct him. He knew that sometimes it was better to let things go rather than be overly critical, and he watched as the boy used his left arm to wipe the soup of his chin rather than the very tasteful and expensive cloth napkin that sat unused on the table. George turned away and went back out into the kitchen to bring the rest of the boy’s meal.

He returned with two chicken salad sandwiches and a carafe of white wine. The boy devoured the first sandwich as he done with the soup, but he seemed to gain some kind of control over himself and slowed down with the second one.

But even while he slowed down, he savored nothing. Anyone else would have remarked on the quality of the soup, freshly made from somewhere in London, brought into the house every other day with the other groceries from the city. The sandwiches…George’s father had been a cook, and a very good one at that, and had taught his son the art of making good comfort food and very few things were better than soup and sandwiches for lunch, in this case, chicken salad sandwiches…tasty, flavorful, good without being drowned in mayonnaise.

But the boy commented on none of it as he put the last of the sandwich into his mouth and finished it off with a gulp of wine.

He belched loudly...he was sated for now. He would go upstairs to his room until it was time for him to revisit the Chapel. He rose and made his way towards the dining room exit but realized that the dog was not with him; he turned back around.

The dog was by the other door, the one leading to the kitchen.  The boy called for the dog without using words, but it sat there not moving.

“Come.”   

The order was harsh and demanding, but the beast did not obey his Master.

He went to the door and pushed it open. The dog walked through the kitchen and to the pantry and then turned a corner, where he was waiting for him.  

Clearly the dog wanted out, but when he opened the door, the beast simply sat in the middle of the doorway seemingly so that the it could not be shut on him. He wanted out, but he wanted his Master to accompany him.

His demeanour changed; his eyes narrowed, and he sniffed the air. He looked back down at the dog; the boy knew it sensed prey or a threat...he smiled at the thought of the woman who had come here trying to tempt him as his mother had done with Damien...the dog had been very keen to go out and help his Master subdue the intruder...but the dog was just staring up at him.

The boy reached down and began pulling on his boots; it was too warm to require a jacket.

He stepped outside and only then did the dog move out of the doorway. The dog led him towards the woods and to anyone would didn’t know better, it would have looked like a teenaged boy taking his dog for a walk. He had not told anyone where he was going, but George happened to spy them from the kitchen window and watched as the pair got farther away and then disappeared inside the woods…

From around the other side of the estate, Delia and Alexander got into one car and Paul got into the other, and they both made their way to the front entrance. Even if the boy had been inside, he would have found the cameras that were set up around the various rooms of the house were not working.

The three of them got out of their cars, though the twins made it to the front door first, opening it again without the need of a key.

Inside, George had heard the sounds of cars pulling up and had come to the foyer to see what was going on. He smiled at Paul’s arrival but then looked nervously at the two young people who ran up the stairs.

“What is happening, sir?” 

“George, you will come with me.” 

“But...” 

“That’s not a request.” 

“Very well, sir.” 

Twenty minutes later, the siblings returned carrying something wrapped in a sheet that more than vaguely resembled a body. George turned to Paul, who looked away from the pair who were now making their way out the door and to their car and answered the unasked question.

“You don’t want to know.”  

The trunk of Paul’s car was open, and Xander moved his left shoulder and then Paul understood that the sheet was for his car. He put it down and the two of them gently placed the body in the trunk, all the while telling Damien that he soon would be Home. After a moment, Delia removed the knapsack and handed it to him.