The Incubus & the Virgin

7. Just a dream?

“S-s-s-satan…” I heard chuckles and grunts from the brothers sitting in their thrones. 

“Yes, but please, call me Father. We are family after all.” He carried a polite smile on his face. “Well, nearly.” 

He took my hand gently into his gloved hand and kissed it lightly, I held back a shutter, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Alana, I’ve waited so long to finally have you here. It feels like centuries.” 

I slowly slid my hand out of his. “This is a dream… right? I’ve got to be sleeping.” I pointed to Jace who was biting at his nails carelessly. “That’s my best friend’s boyfriend, I’ve known him for months now.” Jace stopped biting his nails to look up at me. 

“Ex-boyfriend.” He stated before going back to his bad habit. 

"Ex? What?" I  glared at Jace for answers before looking back at the man in front of me, whose eyes were narrowed, staring at his son. 

 “I do apologize, my sons may be a little…” He covered the side of his mouth and bent down slightly, as if to tell me a secret and whispered “rough around the edges.” Satan then shrugged. “Atlas, they’ll grow to adore you, I’m sure." 

“How can you be Satan? Where are the flames? Horns? Damned souls?” I was exasperated and ready to wake from this cheesy dream. 

The man in front of me was nothing like how Satan was always described, instead he was gorgeous and young looking. His eyes were a brilliant blue color, his hair a soft gold. He was tall, taller than Leviathan who was already a good foot taller than I. He was wearing a black suit similar to Leviathan, the difference was the vivid red tie and black gloves that covered his hands. He was smiling down at me pleasantly. 

 “Besides, what would Satan want with me?” 

He clasps his hands together excitedly “Shall I explain, then?” 

 All I could do was nod my head in response, surely this was a dream. A very weird one at that. 

“Let us go back nearly twenty-two years ago…to the day of your birth and the death of your mother.” 

---*---*---*---*---*--- 

His voice echoed and like an illusion we were standing in a hospital room, you could hear the groans of a woman in pain. Her light brown hair was a mess and sweat was beaded on her forehead, even still her beauty was evident. Her caramel brown eyes focused their steady gaze forward with determination. 

“Mrs. White, we’re going to need you to push now.” A man in a sterile doctor’s coat said. 

A younger version of the man that I knew as my father was holding onto the women’s hand and whispering encouraging words into her ear. “You can do this, honey. Our family is almost complete” He wiped the sweat off her forehead with a towel, the love in his eyes for the women was prominent. 

One last grunt came from the women and the doctor was holding a small fragile body in his hands. My father looked expectantly at the little being, both him and the women waiting to hear the cries of life. Instead, the room grew with tension as the Doctor started to yell at the nursed “Quick, the defibrillator!” 

The room moved in what seemed like slow motion, as they tried to get the infant’s heart going. The mother who had her arms held out waiting for the child, grew stone-like. My father fell to his knees on the ground besides the now hollow women cursing under his breath, and crying silently. It felt like hours before the doctor handed the lifeless bundle to the women. The doctor and my father walked outside of the hospital room, to explain the complications of the birth. My father’s eyes were red and swollen with sorrow, his back hunched in sadness and exhaustion.