33 Being Birds

Lily

Lily sat at her desk and swirled her tea, frowning as a teenage demon scurried from the Universal Hallway stairs towards the elevators, obviously trying to look unsuspicious and, naturally, looking incredibly suspicious. She’d seen it happen half a dozen times over several weeks. It was never the same kid twice, and most of the time she barely noticed them outside of a passing observation that it was odd to see young demons near the gate. She’d asked several shifts about it, and none of them knew anything. A few had suggested that sneaking into the mortal world for a prank or bragging rights was a bit of a rite of passage for many young demons.

She turned her attention to the soul stepping calmly up to the Hellp Desk, a quick glance at the desk confirming the lack of a soul file.

Lily shot the soul, a man, an easy smile. “How can I help you?”

“Hey,” the man said, ducking his head slightly. He appeared midthirties, casually dressed, with dark brown hair pushed haphazardly back and a neatly trimmed beard. “I’m from Heaven, and I was wondering if it would be possible to visit my dad? The folks at the gate said you could help with that.”

“What’s his name?” Lily asked, sliding her computer closer and clicking on the disarmingly cute icon of a cartoon flame with smiling anime eyes, floating horns, and a little pitchfork. No one had fessed up to designing it, but they all adored it. There was a running list of name nominations on the whiteboard in the breakroom. Sharkie had climbed up on a chair to painstakingly write Tim in her best penmanship. It had a hundred and three votes, at least six of which were from Bel. Nine were from her.

“Henry Jones?” The man chuckled dryly. “I’m sure that narrows it down a lot.”

Lily laughed with him, and a few questions later— when did he die, where was he from, any outstanding identifying features— found his father. The program on the computer offered a small bit of the full soul file. Thankfully, it offered pertinent information in written form, instead of delivering it directly into her mind.

Henry had certainly earned his place in Hell, but that wasn’t what interested her. What had her softening was the impressive amount of work the man had done to learn and improve, working up from Level Five. His son, who he had hurt so badly, had never visited before.

“Looks like he’s made it up to Level One,” Lily said kindly.

Quiet hope shone on the man’s face while Lily scribbled down Henry’s information and handed over the sticky note—cat-shaped this time.

“Good luck,” she said, meaning it with every fiber of her soul.

He smiled and took it with fingers that trembled slightly.

“You can take the elevator or the stairs through that hall. Just give that to one of the demons and they’ll help you from there.”

With a quick murmur of thanks, the man stepped away, leaving her alone at her desk.

It had been a blessedly quiet few days, a fact for which Lily was grateful. Most souls were fairly content to go where they’d been told without causing much fuss, and the ones who did foray over to the Hellp Desk hadn’t been too disgusting or argumentative. Lily hadn’t touched a weapon since the day of the trivia tournament. Well, she’d used the blade Bel had given her once, to retrieve a paper that had fluttered to the ground just out of reach.

She cradled her mug of tea in one hand, kicked her feet up on the desk, and reopened a book she’d taken from Bel’s library. Sci-fi was fairly hit or miss in her estimation, but she could understand why this particular book had such a well-worn cover. She ran her finger over a fingertip-shaped smudge of something on the bottom corner of a page, imagining the disgruntled look he must’ve had when he realized he’d left a mark.

Her chest went a little achy. Trivia night had been perfection, and she regretted nothing. Not that night, nor the morning after. She kept wondering if it had all been a dream. Surely she couldn’t have been that happy? She’d had dreams a bit like that before and been immediately pissed upon waking up that no one was actually holding her hand or letting her kiss their neck. It was surreal to have actual memories of those things, along with the promise of more.

Oh, so much more.

The only thing that had kept her from grinning like a jack-o’-lantern the entire day after had been the nonstop buzzing of his phone and the expression he’d had when she’d come back from the bathroom. She’d found him sitting on the edge of the bed in full General Mode, staring at the screen.

The responsibility he’d carried was almost palpable. Not crushing him, but weighting his every movement with purpose and care. He’d still smiled when she’d walked over, but the way he’d pulled her to stand between his legs so that he could wrap her in his arms and rest his face against her chest had told her everything.

Playtime was over.

He’d called her later and told her he would be out of contact for a while, but that he’d let her know as soon as he got back. She’d heard his smile when he told her to text him like normal.

“I like seeing all your texts when I get a chance. It’s like a little diary of your thoughts. Even if I can’t respond, it reminds me that, no matter what, you’re still out there doing things, being badass and having a great ass.”

She’d told him to be safe and that her ass was adequate at best.

That had been two days ago.

Sharkie, when Lily had picked her up from the sleepover, had tried to convince her to let Cerberus, who turned out to be the size of a small bus, come home with them. Despite “Cerby’s” very good “sit” and fiercely wagging tail, Lily had had to put her foot down. After giving all three heads a good scratch behind the ears, of course.

Sharkie had been cheerful but quiet ever since. Something was brewing in that little body, and Lily had almost no idea what. It wasn’t about not taking Cerberus home with them, she’d noticed the shift in Sharkie the moment she’d arrived in the Underworld to pick her up. She’d tried to subtly get it out of her with some leading questions, but Sharkie hadn’t taken the bait. She’d gone to school and skipped up to the Hellp Desk after, all smiles and stories, had done her homework in the breakroom with the assistance of everyone inside, but looked a little too long at the fire as it crackled in the hearth at home, or spent too long curled up on the couch, slowly and methodically petting the cat before going to her room for the night.

Lily didn’t know what to do.

Five chapters away from the end of the book, her heart was in her throat over fear for her favorite character, until the sound of running feet pulled her out of the reading haze. She grinned as Sharkie scampered up and crawled onto her desk with zero hesitation. Ever since she’d had the additional consistency of school, Sharkie’s confidence had blossomed.

Sharkie’s eyes were wide. “Were you alive before cell phones?”

Oof. “Way to make me feel old, kiddo. Yes.”

“I thought you died young though?”

“Relatively young, I was thirty-four. I got my first cell phone in high school, but I didn’t get my first smartphone, like this”—Lily pointed to the one on the desk—“until college.”

“How did you do anything?”

“I mean, we had dial-up and house phones, so we weren’t completely in the Stone Age, but it was definitely a different time. What brought this up?”

“We learned about the mortal tech boom in school today. I thought it was weird,” Sharkie explained, but something in her tone caught Lily’s ear. She sounded…older somehow. “If you didn’t have a screen, how did you know if you dialed the wrong number?”

Sharkie didn’t look different, but she had no idea what a soul maturing looked like. Would she literally grow each time, or was it in spurts? Lily resolved to do some more research.

“The wrong person picked up the phone, which I always felt bad about, but hey, it happened.”

“Ew. That’s weird. Can we go home?”

Lily tucked her book under her arm and shoved her phone in the side pocket of her leggings. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Any ideas for dinner?”

“Bisque.”

Lily stopped and stared at her. “Bisque?”

“Is it good? Nuuri said her mom’s bisque was the best, and then Rimmon said that his mom’s bisque was the best, and they ended up fighting over it and having to sweep the hallway together.”

“We can try to make bisque. But maybe we make toasted cheese sandwiches too, just in case. I’d hate to have a repeat of the time we tried to do gnocchi from scratch.”

Sharkie made a face of disgust that Lily couldn’t replicate if she tried. “At least it made really good glue for my diorama though.”

* * *

Lily texted Bel about their bisque disaster and sent him a picture of the splatters that somehow had ended up near the ceiling, along with a picture of the magazine-worthy crab bisque that had appeared on the counter moments after The Eruption.

Princess : I don’t know if the picture conveys how smug the house is right now, but it’s smug. I can feel it.

She held her phone for a few extra moments, then reached for the washrag. The otherwise fastidious house seemed more than willing to let her clean up after her own catastrophe. Smug. Lily hoisted herself onto the counter, hunting spatters of what could loosely be called bisque.

Loosely Called Bisque would be a great trivia team name…

Rain had been heavy and constant since they’d gotten home, the lights of the village barely visible through the gray haze. Huge puddles formed in the garden. She’d cracked a window to let the achingly familiar smell wash through the house, and she sucked it into her lungs like a drug.

The winters on the Pacific Northwest coast had been cold and wet and gray, with windstorms that howled and pounded at the windows. She’d loved storms. Loved the way the earth smelled when it rained. She especially loved the cozy days spent inside with a warm drink and a heavy blanket.

She inhaled long and slow.

Happy.

She seemed to be uncovering a remarkable capacity to be happy .

It was nice.

Lily slid off the counter and threw the washcloth in the sink, peering into the living room.

Sharkie leaned over the back of the couch near the big windows, arms folded, chin resting on top of them, staring out at the pounding rain. Max, never one to be left out, had loafed himself nearby, drowsing peacefully. Lily knelt next to Sharkie, propping her own hands and chin on the back of the couch. Sharkie’s face was uncharacteristically flat, her eyes looking almost as soul tired as when she’d arrived.

“What’cha thinking, kiddo?” Lily asked quietly.

Sharkie shrugged.

Lily waited. Sharkie’s hood slumped off her head and she twitched slightly. Lily reached over and brought it up again, carefully tucking loose hair behind Sharkie’s ear. She followed Sharkie’s gaze to a cluster of birds bathing in one of the puddles.

“Do you think they’re having fun?” Sharkie asked, without looking away from them.

Lily watched the birds for a moment, splashing and dunking themselves in the water before shaking out their feathers. They seemed to be having a grand old birdie time, like little kids slashing in puddles.

Ah ha.

“I think there’s only one way to find out.”

Sharkie frowned at her. “How?”

“We should try it ourselves.”

“But we can’t do that,” Sharkie insisted so quickly that Lily knew she’d heard it somewhere. Probably from her foster monster. The bitch.

“Why not?”

Sharkie hesitated, brows furrowed but eyes starting to get that glimmer of interest in them. Come on, bug, play with me. Just play .

“Because,” Sharkie said.

“Says who?”

Sharkie looked out the window, a flash of excitement immediately followed by worry. She bit her lip and looked back at Lily, holding out her pinkie finger.

Lily took it and winked. “Come on, birdie, it’s bath time!”

She pushed off the couch and headed for the door, bending down to pull off her fuzzy socks as she went. There was no reason to change out of her black sleep shorts and loose tank top, but she did pull the clip out of her hair and let it tumble over her shoulders.

“Do we need shoes?” Sharkie fretted as Lily pulled the large round door open, letting in a wash of damp air and the dull roar of the rain.

“Nope, not unless you want them. We’re gonna go be birds, so if you don’t want to be a bird in the rain with something, I’d leave it inside.”

Sharkie hesitated for a moment, then unbuttoned her onesie. She wiggled free and carefully draped it on the nearby bench, standing uncertainly in her leggings and blue-striped shirt. Lily offered her hand, and Sharkie gripped it with a surprising amount of strength.

“On three?” Lily asked.

Sharkie nodded, the vulnerability fading slightly as she shifted from foot to foot, watching the rain come down in sheets.

“One,” Lily started, squeezing Sharkie’s hand.

“Two,” they said together. “Three!”

They ran out into the dumping rain, immediately soaked to the skin.

Lily laughed, tipping her head back, then smiled down at Sharkie, who grinned back with bright, unburdened eyes. Lily let go of her hand, throwing her arms wide, spinning in a circle, kicking her toes through the grass and sending an arc of silvery droplets through the air. Sharkie’s giggle was one of the most wonderful things Lily had ever heard.

Sharkie stomped into the nearest puddle, shrieking as a spray of mud dotted her face. Then she did it again. Lily took a flying leap into the nearest puddle but messed up the landing, her feet sliding out from under her. The soft ground squelched as she landed flat on her back, water flying in the air and mud oozing between her fingers.

Sharkie cackled , standing doubled over in the puddle, hair dark with water and plastered to the sides of her face, howling with laughter. Lily flopped onto her stomach and perched her chin on her hands, smearing mud all over her jaw. She grinned up at Sharkie and kicked her feet in the air behind her just for the hell of it.

Little hands seized one of her wrists, tugging her up. “Come on!”

They played together in the rain. Sometimes splashing in puddles, sometimes kicking water at each other, sometimes seeing how many times they could spin before they fell over laughing.

Lily pretended to chase Sharkie, sliding more than running, then turned and slopped away as chaser became the chased.

They lay side by side, mud soaking into their backs, staring up into the rain and making shapes with their fingers against the gray backdrop of the sky.

Sharkie jumped onto Lily’s back with a triumphant howl, while Lily ran and spun them around the front garden in a victory lap.

Eventually, they staggered inside, giggling, soaked down to their bones and covered in mud, hair in snarls and clumps. Lily had shaken like a dog—or tried to anyway. Sharkie had followed suit, then peered down at herself and wrinkled her nose, which set Lily off on another round of laughter that Sharkie joined in on.

They separated to shower in their respective bathrooms and put on clean clothes. By the time Sharkie emerged in a set of polka dot pajamas, Lily was waiting with two mugs of cocoa and marshmallows. The house had already cleaned up all the mud and water they’d tracked in, so she’d dragged a few cushions into the entryway and plopped them in front of the wide-open door, along with a heap of blankets. She and Sharkie sat side by side, wrapped in blankets, sipping their cocoa in silence and watching the torrential rain as the sky grew dark, Max curled between them.

“Lily, I don’t think I make a very good bird. I didn’t get very clean.”

Lily sipped her cocoa. “Maybe not. But you make a very good you though. And I think I make a very good me.”

Sharkie rearranged Max, scooted closer, and rested her head against Lily’s arm with a sigh that seemed to come from her toes. “I like you and me.”

Lily wrapped her arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “I like you and me too.”

* * *

“Lily?”

The tremulous little whisper had Lily’s eyes snapping open, immediately at full consciousness. She sat up, taking in the brightly moonlit room, thankful that she was still wearing the T-shirt and underwear she’d put on earlier, having been too tired to strip naked for bed, as usual.

“What’s up, bug?” She didn’t bother asking if Sharkie was okay. Clearly, she wasn’t, or she wouldn’t be out of her sanctuary before the sun was up and the world felt safer to her.

Sharkie stood a few feet away from the bed, hunched in on herself, as if braced for a blow, arms wrapped firmly around a stuffed shark that was half her size. She sniffled, crawling up into Lily’s lap without letting go of the shark, and buried her face in Lily’s chest.

Lily wrapped her up in her arms, smoothing down her messy hair, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head, murmuring, “I’ve got you, bug. What’s going on?”

Her little muscles seemed strung tighter than piano wire. Every fiber of Lily’s being screamed that she protect, comfort, make the monsters go away , but she simply held the terrified child — her terrified child—offering what comfort she could and waiting. Lily had wondered, even after the joy of playing in the rain, what else was brewing in that little head. There’d been a residual tension in Sharkie as they’d gotten ready for bed, like she’d been ticking closer and closer to something.

Minutes went by. Then—

“Why didn’t my mom love me enough to stay?”

Barely audible. A lifetime of pain in those words.

Lily’s soul ached.

She closed her eyes and held her girl tighter. Ignoring the way her nose stung and swallowing hard to clear the lump in her throat, she smoothed Sharkie’s hair.

“Sharkie—”

“At the sleepover,” Sharkie said in a rush, as if a dam had broken and all her pain was flooding out, “everyone had moms and dads who loved them, moms and dads who were nice to them. They didn’t worry that their moms and dads wouldn’t come pick them up. And I knew you would, but…but I still wondered. You’re not my mom, so I wasn’t sure, but you’re not my mom, so I thought maybe that’s why you’d come back. But I wasn’t sure. Why…” Her little sob made Lily’s tears finally spill over. “Why am I so easy to leave behind? Why am I so easy to hurt? Why does no one love me ?” She broke, clutching the shark and crying into Lily’s neck.

All Lily could do was rock her back and forth. Hold her and rock her, waiting for her shattered sobs to subside. Lily fought the tide of her own emotions, knowing that Sharkie, sharp, empathetic, big-hearted Sharkie, would worry if she saw Lily weep too hard for her. Sharkie had worked her way into Lily’s heart from day one, but with every passing day, she grew more deeply hers .

When Sharkie’s crying had lessened enough for there to be more sniffles than outright sobs, Lily lifted her head and wiped at her wet cheeks with one hand, before offering her pinkie finger to Sharkie.

A sacred, unbreakable promise.

Sharkie gripped it with her whole shaking hand.

Lily drew her face up so that she could look her in the eye. Sharkie’s breath hiccupped a bit, but she started matching Lily’s deep, even breaths.

“You are lovable,” Lily said gently but firmly. “You are lovable. You always have been, and you always will be inherently—that means ‘naturally’—easy to love. Despite what happened to you in your mortal life, you are not easy to hurt. You are not easy to leave behind.”

Lily fought to keep her voice even. “The people who hurt you were monsters, and you had more than your fair share of them in your life. They hurt you because you were there, not because of who you are or anything you did. Their evil was not your fault. Their actions were not your fault. You deserved a loving, safe, happy home, and the fact that you didn’t get that is a crime. It’s not fair, at all, but it wasn’t because of you . As for your mother…”

Sharkie twitched.

Lily felt the echoes of her file in her soul. A battered shark mobile, hung over a crib with care. A woman’s smile filled with love and magic and wonder…a smile at war with the worn lines of her face, the world-weariness in her eyes. The shattered grief in the woman’s wail as her baby was taken from her.

“Your mother loved you as best as she could. From what I understand, she had her own monsters to fight. I don’t think life had been very kind to her either. She had no idea what was going to happen to you in the system; she had no way of knowing. Maybe her life was so painful and scary that she thought you would have a shot at a better life if you weren’t with her.

“I never had kids in any of my lifetimes, even though I wanted them. But if I’d ever had a child, I would have wanted them to be like you. Brave enough to bite a warrior in Valhalla. Kind enough to make sure everyone has a cinnamon roll, even if it means walking through a line of souls. Curious enough to try absolutely anything or go anywhere—even if it’s a realm that most people find scary—and find the wonder in it. You are so fantastically, wonderfully, entirely you , and it is amazing . You are easy to love, and worthy of joy and protection.”

Lily placed her free hand over Sharkie’s, the one wrapped around her pinkie. “I might not be your biological mom, but, if you’ll let me, I will love you as if you were my own child. I’ll always pick you up from the sleepovers. I’ll always hold you when you cry, and make you cocoa, and ask about your day. I’ll have to set boundaries and enforce them sometimes, but I won’t ever hurt you on purpose. I’ll be here for you until you don’t need me anymore.”

Sharkie took a deep, shuddering breath. “What if I always need you?”

Lily smiled softly. “There’s a part of us that always needs our moms, I think. But good moms help us be ready for life when they can’t be in it. I will try—I promise ,” she corrected. “I promise to try and be that for you.”

Sharkie squeezed her pinkie one last time then let go. Lily let her hands fall as Sharkie sniffed, rubbing her forearm over her wet face, and then hugged Lily so tightly that she was glad she didn’t need to breathe.

Lily hugged her back, feeling the tension ease out of her little body. Not entirely, but enough.

“Okay,” Sharkie said into Lily’s shoulder.

Lily gave her a little squeeze. “Okay.”

They hugged each other for a long time. Max eventually made an appearance, trotting across the bed to chirp and nuzzle at Sharkie, who patted vaguely in his direction. He obligingly placed himself within the pat zone. A few minutes later, Sharkie sat up and scrubbed at her face with one hand, until Lily gently used a corner of the sheet to clear away the snot and tears.

Sharkie looked at her with cautiously bright eyes. “So, we can be a family?”

Lily smiled. “We are a family. Families aren’t just a mom and a dad and kids. They can look a lot of different ways.”

“Is the ‘mom, dad, kid,’ thing one of those stupid rules?”

“Yeah, a bit. ‘Family’ can be a pretty broad description.”

Sharkie petted Max for a moment. “Can Bel be in our family too? Cause you’re dating him and he’s nice?” Before Lily could respond, Sharkie added, “And Luci! Luci is really, really nice and helps me to feel brave and promised to get me an actual shark someday.”

Making a mental note to chat with Lucifer at some point— seriously what the fuck, Lucifer, it better be a very cuddly Afterlife shark that is utterly harmless to souls— Lily chuckled.

“Bel and Luci are our family too.”

Sharkie nodded, relaxing further. “I like our family.”

The warm, fuzzy, full feeling in Lily’s chest was back. “Me too.”

Sharkie crawled towards the middle of the bed and wiggled under the covers, Max following to perch against her side. Lily was momentarily stunned by the display of trust. Sharkie had never fallen asleep outside of the safety of her room before, not even for a nap. Pushing her shock aside, she folded the sheet to avoid the tearstained spot and lay down, rolling over to scratch behind Max’s ears, then gently boop Sharkie’s nose with the tip of her finger. Sharkie scrunched up her nose and giggled.

Family.

Lily’s eyelids were heavy, but she stayed awake until Sharkie’s breathing evened out, and even Max slept. Pieces were clicking into place. Slowly, steadily, the ugly, cold hollowness of her chest was fading, replaced bit by bit with warmth and light and understanding. By love.

I have my own family, and I’m not letting fear compromise who I am anymore.

She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.