Castaway

Children of the Sun

Chapter Note :

Double header today! Enjoy :)

Chapter title credit goes to Poets of the Fall.

To anyone wondering about my future plans, I'm definitely going to take a break, for now, but I already have an overflowing mental pot of story ideas, including a big idea for another novel. If you'd like to see the whole big blasted list, you can find it . So, I'm near certain I'll be back to entertain you guys again at some point in the nearish future :) In the meantime, you can always say hi to me on Twitter or Tumblr, where I also go by ariaadagio. Cheers!

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The chatter of dozens of voices and the crack of pool balls fill the air at what has become their ladies' night hangout. A little nook of a sports bar in Sunset Strip, appropriately named the Devil's Water. Chloe, Ella, and Linda all sit in a ring around a narrow high-top as multiple televisions flash and darts fly.

"I.C.E. took the Möbius case today," Ella grumbles as the server arrives with their drinks. "I can't believe they took it!"

"I can," Chloe says with a shrug. The server — an older woman with her silvering hair pulled into a short ponytail, nametag: Betsy — sets their glasses down with a clink. "Thank you." Betsy smiles and nods before stepping away. Chloe continues, "It was way beyond the L.A.P.D.'s jurisdiction. I mean ... it was essentially an international smuggling and black-market-sales ring."

"Of body parts. Ugh." Ella cringes, visibly shivering. "So creepy." She takes a sip from her lager, leaving a strip of foam across her top lip like she's the star of a Got Milk? commercial. "You're really not bothered that the feds took your investigation from you?"

"Nope. Not as long as the victims get some justice."

"What about justice for you, though?" Ella says. She licks the foam away. "You're a victim, too. And Lucifer."

"I'm ... okay," Chloe says. "I'm—" Running only makes it better for me, dear. Her words choke to a halt as her throat threatens to close. She swirls her daiquiri straw, eyes watering. "I'm okay. Really. Just ...."

"Chloe," Linda says gently, leaning to put her hand on Chloe's shoulder. "You can talk to us." She makes a vague gesture at the table. "This is a safe space."

"Totally safe," Ella chimes in.

Chloe leans back in her chair to rub her eyes. The image of Lucifer's broken feathers dangling by a chain from Asmodeus's neck like trophies makes her stomach roil. And then she can't stop seeing Lucifer, weak, dying, trying to overpower the demon, trying to break his neck and save her, only to collapse in the mud. Then the Asmodeus in her mind's eye points the gun at Lucifer, and Chloe can't do anything to stop him.

Not a thing.

Suddenly, her daiquiri doesn't seem all that appetizing. Nothing does. She pushes the glass away. "He almost died. In my arms. He ...."

"But he didn't," Linda says softly.

"Obviously, he didn't," Chloe replies. "He's fine." She swallows. "He's fine." The lump in her throat only seems to get bigger. A chorus of cheers at the nearest pool table explodes like confetti from a canon, oblivious to her turmoil, and her brain starts to feel like it's separating from her body. From reality. Drifting ... somewhere behind. "Just ...."

Ella nods solemnly. "Sounds like a great excuse to carpe diem to me."

"Oh, we ... um." Chloe clears her throat roughly. "We um." Heat flames across her face and down her throat as Ella brightens with anticipation. "We carpe-ed. Already. More than once."