With enough vision. With enough determination. And enough love-and perhaps even hate-a world could spring forth from those adept at such things.
I thought of all of this and more as my son looked on, and just behind his eye, I could see a small flame dancing. A very, very small flame. Nearly nonexistent. Surely, I would have missed it before, had I not known to look for it. The flame, I knew, was an indicator of my son's possession. Of Danny, his own father, watching us.
"You can ask him," I finally said.
"Ask the fire warrior?" Anthony's eyes widened.
"Yes. When you are ready, try talking to him. He will tell you who he is, and where he's from, because I don't know."
"Is he an alien?"
"In a way, yes. But you will need to ask him."
"You think he speaks American?"
I gave my son a half smile, waited.
"English! I meant English."
"He will understand you," I said. "And you will understand him. Language won't be a problem."
"Okay, I will do that someday. Maybe. The problem is, he's so dang big. I mean, I could see on top of the roof, Mom. You should have seen me."
"And no neighbors saw you?"
Anthony shook his head vigorously. "No one. The street was empty. It was like the devil knew."
"The jogger?"
"Yes. It was the same person I met in the warehouse. Just different bodies. She had the same weird tattoo. And the same dog!"
"And you weren't afraid?"
"With the fire warrior, I don't think I will ever be afraid again. And even without him, I think I can take care of myself. In fact..."
He paused, turned red.
"What, baby?" I asked.
"I think I can take him."
"The devil?"
Anthony nodded, vigorously at first, but then looked away, perhaps hearing his own words again. I let it go. That my son was confident was a good thing. I had seen the video where he had taken on four or five men at once-and not just any men-unchanged werewolves. Like me, Kingsley was supernaturally strong in his day-to-day life, too. And so had those men, many of whom had been flattened by my thirteen-year-old son.
"Anthony, do you know why the devil came today?"
"He's looking for Daddy."
I nodded. Anthony knew that, of course. Hell, the devil himself had spelled it out to Anthony back in the warehouse months ago, back when the devil had given my son a fighting chance to live. The devil had-and this was something I was still processing-saved my son. Granted, the piece of shit had merely freed my son, leaving my boy alone to fight against a half dozen fully transitioned werewolves. Still, he had given my son a fighting chance.
I said, "Not just your dad, baby. He's coming for you too."
"Why?"
"Remember how he helped you?"
Anthony snorted. "Some help. He just ripped the arrows out, meat and all. But I guess he did free me. He didn't actually, help, though. He left me to fight the werewolves alone."
"He did, yes. But the devil never does anything for free. He always, always wants something in return."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, baby."
"Mom, don't call me that."
"Sorry, baby."
I laughed, and so did he. We needed something to lighten the moment here. And as we laughed, something occurred to me, and it occurred to me in a flash of insight that I would ponder later: the devil had been created to fulfill a role. If he could be created, he could also be destroyed, too. The problem, of course, was that he could body-jump. I had come across such an entity before in the Pacific Northwest.
To destroy him, I had to destroy not his current body, which was only fleeting, but the source body. The original body. I nodded at that. Yes, find the devil's home base, and you found the source of evil. Kill the base, and you killed the devil-
Anthony's door slammed opened open, scaring both of us. Standing in the doorway was Tammy, staring at me.
"Mom, her eyes," said Anthony.
I saw it too. The flames had grown, lapping just behind her pupils.
"The world needs the devil, Mom," she said, almost automatically. "You cannot know the light without the dark. Sound familiar?"
"He wants to use you. He wants to use Anthony too. If the devil had his way, he would take both of you from me."
"No one can use me, Mom," said Anthony. "No way, no how."
"You see, Mom," said Tammy. "No one will be using us. They can maybe try but they won't succeed."
"Baby, you do realize we're talking about the devil," I said, and heard myself all over again. The devil? Really?
"Yes, Mom. Yes, the devil. And, yes, your life is much different than it was ten years ago. All of our lives are. All because of you. Do you think I want to be a freak? Do you think Anthony likes being a freak? The kid has no friends. None, Mom."