19 Shark Week

Lily

Sharkie stayed glued to Lily’s side while they walked down the Judgment Hall towards the elevator available to residents. As always, it was filled with souls. A man stood pressed against the wall near one of the arches, unmoving and scowling fiercely at everyone who passed. Sharkie’s grip tightened on her hand. Lily squeezed back, locking eyes with him and letting him see exactly what she would do to him if he dared make the child at her side more uncomfortable.

He shifted his eyes away quickly. Hopefully, he was just scared and confused, not some raging asshole that she’d possible have to deal with at the Hellp Desk after his Judgment.

They arrived at the elevator just as it opened with a ding, and they waited for the various residential souls and Afterlife denizens to exit.

Sharkie’s little grip grew clammy, but she didn’t say a word or so much as twitch. Frozen. Lily rubbed the back of her hand with her thumb, leading her forward and hitting the button for Hell. Mercifully, they were alone when the doors slid shut and the car eased into a smooth downward motion. Lily shot off a quick text, slipped her phone back in her pocket, and pulled Sharkie’s file from where she’d clamped it between her arm and her side. She counted to five, then surreptitiously slipped a finger inside to brush one of the pages.

A battered mobile over a crib, little shark figurines that looked jaunty despite their wear and tear. A woman’s thin, ragged face with a beautiful smile that felt like home and magic and sunshine. Crying. So much crying. Yelling too. People slamming things. A woman, the woman—Mom—wailing.

A new house. A new woman. A new man. Children with suspicious eyes and pinching fingers. Hungry. So, so hungry. The woman didn’t feed her if she cried, but she couldn’t stop crying because she was so hungry. Locked in a dark closet by the older kids, throwing her tiny body against the door until she hurt too badly to try again, curling up behind the hanging clothes and humming a song she remembered from a show with bright, colorful cartoon figures.

Another house. The man liked it when she sat on his lap. She didn’t like to sit on his lap. His hands left bruises and his words made her shake if she resisted. So she sat. Watched the TV. Which wasn’t so bad, because he liked to watch nature shows, and her favorites were the ones about the ocean. About sharks. She remembered sharks, sharks were from home. Not that…she really knew what home was. Then he started to come into her room and cuddle. It made her feel icky and scared, and there was no TV or sharks to distract her.

Another house. She’d pitched a fit as soon as she’d walked in, clinging to the lady who brought her there. She didn’t like it. It felt wrong. The woman’s eyes were too sharp, too mean. The way the man looked at her made her feel icky again. He watched her and told her that she was such a pretty little doll. She stayed away from him whenever she could.

She hated the church they took her to. The lady said that only abominations hated church, only wicked, evil, wrong children hated church. The pastor listened carefully to the lady’s concerns, then took Sharkie into the bad room. His office. He seemed nice at first, speaking with a soft voice and hard eyes.

But every time she answered a question wrong, asked a wrong question, said something wrong, fidgeted, sighed, made a wrong eye movement, recited the Bible wrong…he laid her hands on the desk and slapped them. With his hands at first, then a ruler. Then he spanked her. Hand, then ruler, then some floppy rigid paddle thing that stung so badly that, when she sat, she would try to hold herself up by pressing her hands down into the seat. Over her clothes. Then on bare skin. She sat naked in the cold, bad room one day. He’d turned the heat off and put on a sweater, and made her read aloud from the Bible before lecturing her on appropriate interests for a girl. Sharks were not appropriate for a girl. Sharks were for boys.

This was stupid, because she was a girl and she liked sharks, so obviously they weren’t just for boys. It made no sense. She told him so through chattering teeth. He’d spanked her and had her stand facing the corner for what felt like hours. Until he had her get dressed, prayed over her like he did every time, then sent her out to meet the foster lady.

The lady started doing some of the things Mr. Pastor did. Sharkie didn’t understand all of it—any of it—but she knew what certain words and phrases and things meant. Both the foster lady and Mr. Pastor were adults, and had assured her that they knew best, even though Sharkie didn’t think so. They thought sharks were for boys, after all. But they’d both solemnly assured her time and time again, for years, that she was a wicked, willful child who would go to Hell. Sharkie knew that was bad, but she’d heard it was warm, hot even. Maybe when the Hell people made her take her clothes off, it wouldn’t be cold. That would be nice.

After Sharkie’s eighth birthday—the day after—she’d snuck out of the house. She’d seen a flyer for an aquarium at school and wanted to go. They had a new shark exhibit. She figured that, since she was eight and clearly almost an adult (even if she was a bit smaller than she expected, but maybe her growth spurt was delayed), she could walk to the aquarium, sneak in—because she was small—and then sneak home in time for dinner.

The foster lady had always taken a specific route to go into the town, so Sharkie started walking. And walking. Until tires screeched and an engine revved as a truck came hurtling around a corner, swerving wildly before veering out of control and lurching towards Sharkie.

Drunk driver, the file whispered. Lily jerked her finger off the page, biting the inside of her lip so hard she should have tasted blood. It had been the work of a second for the file to share its secrets. They’d barely gone down more than a floor.

The abuse Sharkie had suffered was in an entirely different class than what she herself had gone through, but too much of it held a note of familiarity. The uncomfortable sexualization from a young age, the attempts to curb a boundless curiosity, the fear of misbehaving and being punished for eternity, those were all experiences that hit so close to home that nausea raged through her gut. She knew what that felt like, and how no one deserved to feel or be treated that way, and she couldn’t imagine what this child, who had been through far worse, felt. Sharkie sure as shit never should have been exposed to even a fraction of what she’d gone through. The fact that she had…Primordial rage so violent it almost scared her jolted through her system.

This kid is mine . No one hurts her anymore.

She fought to keep the torrent in her head from showing. Sharkie needed stable. Lily could redefine vengeance later. Perhaps Bel would help. Or Gregorith. He seemed to have the skills necessary to make nightmares a reality.

The floors slid by, Sharkie’s grip growing tighter and tighter. Lily looked down at her, trying to seem calm and casual, but at the sight of the raw panic on the child’s face, at the barely heard whimper, casual went out the window. She swore on reflex, jabbed the Halt button, and dropped to her knees.

“Oh, honey—”

“I don’t want to go to Hell! But I don’t want to get in…in trouble,” Sharkie sobbed, hunching deeper into her hood, rocking back and forth.

“Do you want a hug, sweetheart?”

Lily barely finished the question before Sharkie flung herself into her arms. Lily wrapped her up and twisted to sit on the floor and cradle her in her lap. She rested her cheek on the soft flannel of Sharkie’s hood and rocked her as she cried.

Poor spunky sweetheart.

“I know, bug, I know. You don’t have to go to Hell, I promise—”

Sharkie cringed into her, little hands fisting in the material of Lily’s shirt as she let out a distressed, panicked wail. “I don’t wanna get in trouble! I don’t wanna get in trouble! It hurts !”

The fragments of Lily’s unbeating heart ground themselves into dust. A glimmer of understanding from the file flickered through her mind. They’d hurt her when she’d gotten into ’‘trouble.’ Too much ‘troublemaking’ at home had resulted in a trip to Mr. Pastor. Too much trouble with Mr. Pastor…

Oh, my darling.

“Okay, bug, we’ll go to Hell, and you won’t get into trouble. I promise. Pinkie promise.” Anyone who had studied child psychology would probably kick her ass halfway across the Afterlife if they saw how badly she was fumbling this, but it was all Lily had. She silently begged the Universe that it would be enough to help, even a little.

“Pinkie…promise,” Sharkie sobbed into her shoulder. Lily held her a little closer, ignoring her own nose stinging as a warning of looming tears.

Who could hurt a child like that? Any child? Who could hurt a child like the one in her arms, who had clearly been born vibrant and curious and sweet and uniquely wonderful? It was like taking a rare wildflower and crushing it for the very things that defined it. But worse. So infinitely worse.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Lily murmured, running a hand up and down Sharkie’s shaking back. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay . I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Time didn’t matter. Lily just held her girl and murmured comfort as she cried and shook. Her phone buzzed at one point. She ignored it, pressing her cheek into the messy blond hair revealed when Sharkie’s hoodie fell back. Eventually, the sobs turned to sniffles and the shaking eased to the occasional tremor, but Sharkie’s hands remained clenched in Lily’s shirt.

Once upon a time, Lily had read a story, allegedly from a former Snow White character actor, where she’d said that “when you are hugging a child, always be the last one to let go. You never know how long they need it.” Lily didn’t think the advice was broadly applicable, given the number of creeps out there, but in this instance, she took it to heart.

Sharkie shifted her head on Lily’s shoulder and sniffed. “You stopped the elevator,” she whispered.

“Yep, we needed a moment.”

“You’re not supposed to do that,” Sharkie said in a small voice.

“Oh really? Says who?”

Sharkie was quiet for a moment. “The…rules?”

“I don’t follow stupid rules,” Lily said, and Sharkie twitched. “Lots of rules are there for a good reason, most rules are there to make the world a better place, but some rules are just stupid. Thankfully, there’s no rule that says I’m not allowed to stop an elevator in the Afterlife so that my new friend can have a good cry and not be so scared. Actually, I’m following the rule of ‘basic decency,’ which is to take care of each other.”

Lily resisted, barely, the impulse to say “be excellent to each other,” but she sensed the reference to Bill she’d stopped breathing at some point. Of course he’d been listening. Somehow, he’d managed to say just the right things to make her remember who and what she was.

“Okay,” she said, meeting his eyes.

His big hand brushed her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t noticed. His voice was soft and earnest. “You’ve got this princess. And we’ll be backing you up every step of the way. You aren’t doing this alone.”

Since kissing him was—regrettably—out of the question, and even if it had been in the question, would have been deeply inappropriate given the circumstances, Lily wrapped her arms around his solid waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. He curled himself around her, blocking out the world.

“Thank you.” It was a paltry response, but it was all she could say. She squeezed him tighter. “Thank you.”

He slid his hand down her spine. “I’ve got you, princess.”

I know.

She smiled against his shirt, almost in disbelief at the conversation they’d just had and the decision she’d made. “Who is this ‘we’ who’s supposedly backing me up every step of the way?”

“Me. Lucifer, probably. Everyone. We’ll figure it out. Does she actually like sharks or is it just a ‘onesie of convenience’ kind of thing?”

“Loves sharks. Do you know anything about them?”

“They exist in oceans, and they’re usually the bad guy in boat movies. That’s about it. You?”

“Not much better,” she admitted, refusing to let go of him. “I know a few different types, but that’s all.”

Bel loosened his hold, reaching for his back pocket and pulling out his phone. Lily stepped back a bit, missing his warmth.

“Who would know something about sharks?” he muttered, scrolling through his contacts.

Lily pulled out her own phone. “What mortal souls might still be in the Afterlife who could help?”

“Good thinking. Oh, Angel, she surfs, she might know something…”

“Steve Irwin maybe? Is he still here? Wait, holy shit, documentaries! There’s gotta be some good documentaries about sharks. Heck, I could just watch Shark Week.”

“What’s Shark Week?”

“A week of TV shows all about sharks. Documentaries, studies, that kind of thing. There’re these great white sharks that launch themselves into the air to catch prey. It’s pretty crazy. There you go, a shark fact.”

“I…” Bel frowned, clearly concerned. “I don’t like that. How high into the air? Isn’t there a movie about flying sharks?”

“ Sharknado . Not factual in the slightest, but it’s a cultural icon. All, what, eight of them now? We’ll add it to the list.”

Lily glanced over to the alcove, where Sharkie had her hood pushed back, listening to Lucifer intently, occasionally saying something that Lily couldn’t hear. Lucifer had his jacket unbuttoned, dutifully and gently responding to everything.

“Gregorith sent me a link to an article called ‘10 Great Documentaries About Sharks’,” Bel said excitedly.

“Gregorith?” Lily asked, bringing her focus back to him.

“Yeah, I asked in a bunch of group chats, and people are starting to respond. Cthulhu says ‘Sharks are delicious treats, if a bit crunchy.’ Not helpful, but I appreciate the effort.”

Cthulhu. He’s kidding, right?

Lily stared at a literal demon prince while standing in Hell for all of two seconds before she realized that he wasn’t.

He hunched over his phone, lips pursed in concentration, a little furrow between his thick brows as he swiped and scrolled through responses. She rubbed at her chest.

“Would you like me to add you to these group texts? They’re pretty cool mostly. Just be yourself, they’ll love you. Plus, it takes a village to raise a kid, right? Presto, a village.” He caught her staring at him. “What?”

Oops.

She just smiled.