The rising breeze chills me, as I pad softly across the grass, my bare feet absorbing the moisture of the dew. I shiver, pull my robes more tightly about me, but I cannot say it’s strictly from the cold as much as it is for the loss of warmth, which is not the same thing. His warmth, of course. My Judas…my…
I’m pulled abruptly from my thoughts as the chill verdure beneath my toes is exchanged for grains of heated sand, the moon’s soft glow for a blazing desert sun, shining mercilessly over the bare landscape about me, even as I think to myself what an incredible exhibitionist he is and always has been. I shade my eyes against the sudden brilliance, searching for that which I know I will find, desirous of getting this over with, to return to my…sleep. And that’s all I’m willing to admit to, even to myself. At least at this very moment.
“You came.” A simple statement, not a question, as he appears beside me, making his typical grand entrance, elegant wings outspread so widely that for a moment his form obliterates that of the sun. He lands gracefully upon the burning desert sand and furls his feathers once more. The Lightbringer. The Morningstar.
Lucifer. A rose by any other name. “And alone…I am most flattered…”
“Don’t be,” I rejoin, “This is my battle and mine alone, I’ll bring no one else into it.”
He gives me a most enigmatic look even as with one wave of his arm he manifests an oasis about us, a palm tree-shaded haven amid the illusory desert heat, in the midst of which a crystal clear pond gurgles beckoningly. I ignore it, divining his intention, and determined to have none of it. Do your best…or your worst…I have not nor shall I ever give in to you, no matter what you say, or how hard you try. I have the courage of my convictions, and my belief in my Father to sustain me, and there is nothing you can do to persuade me to join in your rebellion against him, thou fallen angel.
“You don’t have to go through this, you know.”
I try not to betray any sort of surprise, for the devil has many tactics, many tricks at his command, and he does not hesitate to use any of them. I won’t allow him to get to me, of that I’m determined. And I shall protect all that is mine, as well. I make no response.
“I can give you what you want,” he continues. I notice he has exchanged his suit for something a bit more casual—a black mesh shirt, open to his waist, exposing skin the color of fresh butter, tighter than tight designer jeans, and supple black boots that cling to his calves as if they were melted into place. If he has done this to impress me, he is wasting his time. Not like he hasn’t tried such things before, he has—many times, many places, many ways. And I always have and always shall continue to reject what he offers. “You know that I can, son of God, you know I can change the ending to this eternal tragedy. You and he don’t have to die, you can be together. Forever.”
My swift intake of breath betrays me, for of all the scenarios I’ve ever envisioned, all of the offers he has made, this was never part of anything he has ever suggested before, and for just a moment I’m thrown for a loop, before I quickly steel myself to his words, pull myself together. He doesn’t know me, as much as he’d like to think he does, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing his arrow has found a target.
“You’re wasting your breath, Lucifer,” I reply calmly. At least I believe I am calm. I hope I come across that way. “There is nothing you can say, nothing you can offer that will bring me to your side, or bring me to betray my father.”
“Gay marriage,” he continues. As if he hasn’t heard me, he winds himself around me in a serpentine fashion. His hand caresses my chest, one long limb looping about mine, holding me effectively in place. “It will happen. It is ordained, as you must realize. Why not take advantage of it? Why not do that which you so ardently desire? Do you not deserve your own happiness, son of God? Why must it be all self-sacrifice and selflessness, eh? Don’t you ever get tired of playing the martyr?”
I pull myself from his grasp, my hand upraised, holding him at arm’s length when he would bring me closer to him. “Stay, foul serpent,” I warn him. “My happiness is none of your concern. Of course it will happen, it’s meant to be. The time is closer than ever before.”
“And yet so many offer objections in the name of your father,” he purrs complacently, although I refuse to be ruffled at his words.
“They’re wrong, and always have been. I have faith that ultimately they will make the right decision.”