60 Lilies

Lily

Lily stood next to Bel in the receiving line, an oddly calm tension sitting in her chest that she couldn’t really identify. Her role in the line was mostly a supportive one for Bel. She spoke to the partners and families she recognized and offered what comfort and thanks she could where it was welcome to those she didn’t.

Berte, the first woman to welcome her into the support group of warriors’ families, had arrived on the arm of her husband, her damp eyes gleaming with equal parts relief and grief as she’d hugged Lily. A younger man from a different group had arrived alone, hollow-eyed and lost. His tears had dripped on her shoulder when she hugged him. He’d been waiting for his partner to come home and give him an opinion on how to redecorate their living room, knowing how much she enjoyed designing their home. Lily wondered if he would ever move their couch to a different wall now. If he would ever shop for a new rug without waiting for an opinion that would never come. Perhaps someday he would, but as Lily held his shaking body, she knew that day was a long way off. Bel had bowed deeply to him and hugged him, murmuring words that Lily couldn’t hear.

She’d been braced for anger, for the same helpless rage that she’d seen at too many mortal funerals for those who had died as a result of tragedy. There was grief and there was pain, but no one seemed to blame Bel or any of the other demons in the chain of command. Loss recognized loss, and respected that each pain was different.

Bel’s fingers brushed against her skirts for the dozenth time, not solid enough to be a caress, but a subtle, grounding gesture. She stroked her thumb up the side of his hand. I know. I see you.

He had settled after the haunting beauty of the warriors’ song and the upward rain of embers from the bodies of the fallen. The Rising, it was called. Despite being wreathed in flame, the bodies hadn’t technically burned, but had instead simply and slowly disintegrated into embers and sparks. There was no ash left on the raised platforms, not even a single scorch mark. The entire time, the long line of warriors had knelt together, connected through touch and through their song, singing their fallen friends to whatever peace came next.

After several hours, and what had to have been tens of thousands of people, the line dwindled. Sariah and a crying Osmodai had left a bit earlier, accompanied by an older female demon, who appeared to be Sariah’s mother. Asmodeus had relaxed a bit but watched every step they took until they were out of sight. Lily checked on him every so often, and despite his weariness, he seemed to be all right.

A small arm wrapped around her waist, Sharkie’s body pressing against her side quietly. Lily hugged her, scanning her round face for any hint of her being overwhelmed and finding nothing.

“How are you doing, bug?”

Sharkie shrugged, her grip around Lily’s waist tightening a bit. “I’m okay. But, um…” She trailed off, hunching her shoulders a little.

Lily turned to give her full attention. “But?” she asked gently.

Sharkie lifted her eyes to hers, concern glimmering in their depths. “Can I ask you something that may be bad?”

“Always,” Lily said, holding her pinkie out to prove it.

Sharkie stood a little straighter and looped it with her own.

“We’re all sad,” Sharkie said softly, “but, um…Dad has you and me to fuss over him, but Papa doesn’t have anyone, and I don’t want him to be sad and alone. I mean, if he wants to be alone, he totally can be, but I don’t think that’s what he wants right now. I don’t want Dad to feel like I love him any less because I’m not there for him today though. I don’t know what to do.”

Love and pride washed through Lily. She clasped Sharkie’s shoulders with a smile, considering the best way to approach this.

“Bel knows that you love him, and that you can only be in one place at once,” Lily started. “So does Luci. But it is true that Bel has me too. How about you talk to Luci and see if he wants company today? Then you can go from there.”

Another thought occurred to Lily, memories of feeling responsible for her parents’ emotional state. Oh, how she’d wished someone had explicitly freed her of that responsibility then.

“But, Sharkie? Just so you know, it’s not your job to take care of either of them. They’re grown men, and you are a child—our child—even if you are growing up. Kids shouldn’t have to take care of their parents like parents take care of their kids. Absolutely be there with him, spend time with him, all of that, but it’s not your job to make him happy or feel better, okay?”

Sharkie nodded slowly, pinkie finger tightening around Lily’s.

“We get through things together, not just because of one of us, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sharkie said, eyes brightening a bit.

“So, with that in mind, you can talk to Luci and see if he wants company today, or you can hang out with me and Bel, or you can do whatever you need to in order to process and be okay with all this. I know it’s a lot.”

“I think…I want to talk to Luci. Not,” Sharkie said with a bit of relief in her voice, “because I think he needs to be taken care of, but because I want to spend time with him so we can be sad together. You and Bel can be sad together, then we can all just be together at home.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lily smiled.

Sharkie scurried off, weaving through the scattering crowd in the direction Lily had last seen Luci.

Bel spoke softly to a winged warrior with a bandage over one eye and what appeared to be her husband at her side. A few other demons milled around like they might be waiting for their chance to approach, but there was no longer a definitive line.

Just as Lily turned to stand properly by Bel, someone tapped her shoulder.

Lev stood behind her, wearing a deep blue demonic-style suit adorned with an abundance of intricate orange embroidery that matched his eyes and contrasted with his olive-green skin. A female demon hovered a bit behind him with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the back of Lev’s head. Her skin was a few shades lighter than Lev’s, and her features were a perfect female replica of his. Those details, combined with the look she was aiming at him, all pointed to her being Lev’s sister.

“Hey, Lev,” Lily said, then nodded at his sister, who gave her a smile that was surprisingly soft.

“Hello, I have a—”

His sister poked his back, and he snapped his mouth shut, cleared his throat, and started again.

“Hello, how are you?” Lev asked with almost robotic politeness. She could practically hear him chafing against the small talk.

“Not bad for being at a mass funeral,” Lily said, suspicious of the gleam in his eyes that had nothing to do with the dampness still clinging to his lower lashes.

“Ah, yes. Here, have a tissue. I brought extra.” He produced a neat packet of tissues that had obviously been fuller at one point, tugging a couple free and holding them out with awkward sweetness.

She took them slowly, deciding that bluntness might be the best approach. “Thank you. What’s up, Lev?”

He visibly perked up. “I have a report for you to look over that I believe will be most beneficial to the efficacy of the Hellp Desk and ensure its long-term success.”

Lily blinked slowly. He couldn’t be serious.

But it was Lev. He was always serious.

Deep breath. Respond don’t react.

Wrestling the “kindly fuck off” she would have given to anyone else under control, she took a slow breath.

“Lev. Honey. We are at a funeral,” she said as gently but firmly as she could.

He winced but rallied. “Yes, I know, but ever since I received your report, I’ve had my assistants researching and compiling options and suggestions that I believe would benefit you and cheer you up. If you’re happy, Beleth will be happy, and if the gate runs smoothly, then so will the rest of Hell.”

She knew that Lev was Lev and probably genuinely thought he was being helpful, but she had to repeat it to herself a few times.

“Universe’s mercy, Leviathan,” his sister hissed, “what happened to ‘offering comfort’?”

Lev shot a worried look back at her, then hurried to produce the packet of tissues again, this time holding the entire thing out as an offering, his orange eyes anxious. “I’m sorry. Personally, I find knowledge to be very comforting. It’s a very nice report, the options and suggestions given in order from what I believe to be most optimal to the least. It’s double-spaced—”

Lily wrapped both her hands around his extended one, tissue packet and all, silencing him. It was still inappropriate to be discussing a work report at such a devastatingly powerful funeral, but she understood him. Lev was comforting her in the way he found comfort. He just happened to find reports and work soothing in a way that few others did. He was trying. Trying her patience, and apparently his sister’s as well, but he was trying to be helpful, bless him.

“I would love to read and discuss that report, Lev, just not right now. You are more than welcome to deliver it to the Hellp Desk, and I will read it as soon as I can. Thank you for having all that work done for me. I really do appreciate it. But right now, I need to focus on today.”

Relief flickered over his face, as if he’d been worried she would outright reject his gift. She released his hand and offered him a smile that she hoped looked genuine.

He nodded, giving her a quick little hug.

She returned it and stepped back, waving goodbye to his sister, who dragged him away by his arm. Lily watched them go, shaking her head slightly. Just because she understood Lev and the heart behind the conversation didn’t mean that she wasn’t annoyed. It had been an intensely emotional day.

A large, warm hand settled on her lower back, followed by Bel’s lips pressing into her hair. She leaned against him, slipping her arm around his armored waist with a sigh.

“Tell me he didn’t just ask you to read a report,” Bel rumbled.

“He was trying to help in his own way.” She sighed. “He’s sweet, but he needs to work on his timing.”

Bel grunted, shifting so he could search her face for something inscrutable.

“What?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment, brow furrowed in thought, hands gently wrapping around her own. “Today has been a lot.”

“Yeah,” Lily said slowly, knowing there was more.

Bel studied their joined hands, then lifted his gaze to hers. “Will you do one more difficult thing with me today?”

* * *

No one looked twice at them as they walked through the Universal Hallway in their finery.

Bel pulled Sharkie aside before they left, assuring her that he understood and appreciated why she was spending extra time with Lucifer, and that he loved her always. She hugged him with every fiber of her strength, and had done the same with Lily, adding a quick peck on the cheek.

It shocked Lily down to her bones that Bel wanted to partake in the rite of mourning today. That he would want to go back to the battlefield so soon, let alone after the funeral, had left her a little speechless. But that jittery tension that had been welling up in him ever since he’d woken up from his injuries was nowhere to be seen. If he wanted—if he needed —to do this, then she would trust his judgment. He would have her love and support in it.

Their trip out of Hell had been silent. She wasn’t sure who’d reached for the other’s hand first, but it didn’t matter. Neither of them was letting go anytime soon. Even when they’d stopped at a florist shop, after Bel had had a crisis of confidence about which flowers to get, they’d tucked their massive bouquets into their free arms and still held on to each other.

No one else was in the hall leading to the now-ruined realm. The arch was nondescript and dull, the vitality that pulsed through every other archway nowhere to be seen. There was no seeping sense of wrongness like there had been every time she’d peered down that hallway before, only a weary resignation, like an abandoned old house that couldn’t wait to collapse.

Bel paused before the arch, not looking up at it but into its depths, hand tightening around hers. She studied his profile. The hard set of his jaw. The bump on his nose where it had been broken. The gleam of his silver eyes. The black opals in his crown gleamed with their own fire, yet the crown seemed just as much a part of him as the arch of his horns.

“I couldn’t tell you anything about this realm other than what it was in the end,” he said roughly, without looking at her. “I know that it was a minor fringe realm that belonged to no one and everyone, like a public park. But beyond that…?” He shook his head. “I wonder if it was beautiful once. I wonder if it was someone’s favorite place. What small, precious moments happened here.”

They were silent for a long moment, then Bel tugged her forward.

Lily had expected something a bit more…realm-like. The soil was bare and relatively flat, studded with chunks of rock that almost looked like they’d fallen from the ceiling. Perhaps they had. The ceiling looked just like that of a cave, but much farther up and illuminated with the same nebulous, sourceless light that was present in most realms. The distant walls of the massive space were bare, rough rock. No plants, no animals, not even a whisper of a breeze. The ground from the arch sloped downward like a massive ramp, offering a grandstand view of what remained of the camp. Ragged tents of all sizes were covered in what looked like dried mud. A handprint was smeared on the side of a large tent by a half-open flap that hung limply. Bel guided her through all of it, heading for a small rise.

He’d explained that the bodies wouldn’t rot, that they would dry out and eventually either crumble to ash or be pulled out of existence when the realm was collapsed, but something in her brain still told her to expect the stench of corpses. The air had a bit of a bitter tang to it, but nothing particularly pungent.

They crested the rise, and her head went oddly silent.

Just below them lay the desiccated bodies of multiple unidentifiable creatures, shriveled up like mummies, dried blood in black spatters over their leathery skin and pooled on the ground. Beyond them?

There had to be tens of thousands of them scattered across the expanse. Some in clusters, some as lone lumps, increasing in quantity the closer they were to the giant scar that cut across the far wall. It had to be at least three miles away, but it seemed as tall as a small skyscraper and wide enough to drive at least a dozen buses through side by side.

She could see where the ground had been turned to mud with blood and churned up by countless feet. The brutality of what had happened there, a battle the likes of which she couldn’t hope to accurately imagine, was evident in the ground itself, which was blotchily stained a darker color than the bare soil in camp. The utter stillness made it surreal, almost like a movie set.

Bel squeezed her hand. She snapped back to herself, squeezing in return.

They picked their way down the rise, and she allowed him to guide her across the eerie landscape, curious what exactly he was looking for. She recognized more of the creatures she’d beheaded—chittahi—and dozens of gegony of various sizes and states of dryness. Bel seemed to be checking the gegony for some reason, his grip on her hand tightening the farther they went across the field.

They were nearly halfway to the scar when Bel stopped, his hand clenching hers almost painfully.

She didn’t have to wonder what she was supposed to be looking at.

A large gegony, riddled with arrows and bone-deep gashes, curled protectively around a much smaller one with pale green skin marred with scorch marks.

Protectively.

Oh. Oh no.

“Bel?” she breathed, understanding but needing confirmation.

“It happened toward the end, when they ran out of the ones willing to go to battle, I guess. I realized it just before I was…injured. They must have tortured the little ones, driven them mad with pain, then turned them loose on the battlefield for us to kill, giving the parents the incentive to do what every parent would do for their child.”

Tears spilled free, running hotly down her cheeks. She’d found the gegony in the hallway to be monstrous, and it had been. But what made a monster? A real monster? She saw monsters every day at the Hellp Desk, made monstrous by their actions, their cruelty. Perhaps some of the gegony were monsters through and through, perhaps they’d enjoyed being unleashed in battle. But this? There were many, many levels of brutality before the one that called for young to be tortured in order to force their parents into battle. Into a slaughter.

“What kills me,” Bel choked, “is that I’ll never know if any of these creatures wanted to be here. Were they tortured too? Were their people being threatened? Could they even think, or were they just animals who couldn’t even try to fight for something better for themselves? I’ll never know. But I do know that, no matter their intelligence or where they came from, those parents and their young wanted nothing to do with the fight they were forced into. They deserve more than to lie forgotten on some battlefield.”

He let go of her hand, swiping his palm roughly over his tear-streaked cheeks, then pulled a single flower free of the bouquet cradled in his arm, placing it so that it rested on top of the young one and against its parent.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, pressing his hand over his face while he composed himself.

The white lily should have been a stark contrast against the two bodies, and in a way, it was, but there was a softness to the curl of the petals that seemed…right.

“I don’t know how many there are,” Bel said finally, dropping his hand to brush against hers.

Lily reached up and cradled his wet cheek, gently tugging him down for a soft kiss that tasted of both of their tears. “We’ll find them.”

* * *

They split up, though not without a brief flash of hesitation on Bel’s part, his eyes flickering to the twisted scar on the wall before he took a deep breath and nodded.

They spent hours picking through the battlefield, leaving a lily with each of the young and their fallen parent. Every time she found a new pair, fresh tears would fall. They were always in pairs. Always one adult, one young. She’d found one that, at first glance, looked like an abandoned youngster, but then she’d spied the adult twisted up in a net several paces away, where it had been straining towards the little one, the one foreleg it had managed to free from the net stretched towards its young.

Lily had set down her bouquet and dragged the little one over to its parent, pushing it up against its side and laying a flower on them. It had been heavy and unwieldy—and she suspected she’d only managed it because the body was dry—but she couldn’t leave them apart. It could have been her or Bel and Sharkie. Lilith and Anyaet. Sariah or Asmodeus and Osmodai.

She knew that they had killed people from her Universe, had killed Bel’s soldiers, that one of them had almost killed Bel himself. But if not for the twisted whims of whatever powers ruled that other Universe, they never would have set foot on that battlefield. Bel, with his big heart, had forgiven them, mourned them. So would she. She already had.

They met in front of the scar on the wall, their bouquets dwindled down to a few flowers each. Bel looked exhausted, but there was peace in his eyes. Lily took his flowers and joined them with her own, then set them on the ground in front of the scar.

“For the ones we don’t know to mourn,” she said hoarsely.

“For the ones we don’t know to mourn,” he murmured.

Bel slipped his arm around her, pressing his nose to her hair and letting out a long breath.

Bel’s rite—their rite—was done.

They lingered in front of the scar for a moment before they turned and began the long walk back to the rise. To her surprise, other figures dotted the battlefield, some moving alone, others in pairs or groups. Some cried, some sang, some were silent, and there seemed to be people from many different realms partaking in the rite of mourning.

They passed by one of the pairs one of them had left a flower for, and Lily pulled Bel to a stop, pointing.

Beside their lily, someone had laid a yellow chrysanthemum.