Justine and Jezebel

The funny thing was, Justine had basically cursed Jezebel's birth since the child had been born. The last thing she had expected when she ran off to elope was for her girlfriend, Marion, to become unexpectedly pregnant. They were lesbians, lesbians didn't have unexpected pregnancies. Gabriel had appeared to explain the details, and Justine's faith in her lover had been tested. Now he lived with them to watch over the child Jezebel, sent by the father.

Justine had spent nine months sulking about the whole debacle, and having to conceal it because in truth Marion was excited to become a mother. Children had never been part of Justine's plans, but Marion was. So in order to keep Marion in her life, she had to accept the baby would be too. When Jezebel was born on the cusp of the new millennium, Justine had noted her with a heavy sigh. She looked little like either of them, though she had inherited Marion's gorgeous azure eyes. The baby girl had light bronze brown skin, a sharp contrast to her fair skinned and freckled Irish Catholic mother. It had been another thing for Justine to sulk about, how the child had an obvious story. Not that Justine could have claimed to be the father, as she lacked the necessary equipment. But watching a stranger's daughter by her wife grow up so obviously different frustrated her.

Justine's parents had been surprised when they brought a tawny skinned grandchild, but the official story was they had an artificial insemination, and wasn't modern medicine wonderful? Given Marion's Irish heritage, they couldn't risk a Jewish donor, because there was a risk of Tay-Sacks disease. Her parents had been more than satisfied and her grandfather had taken out Jezebel for a walk with her, through the streets of Philadelphia. It was summer time, hot and sticky, so Gabriel, officially "the nanny" had given Jezebel a bright orange water pistol. The girl had giggled excitedly as she chased after Justine's father, squirting him, while he laughed the way only a grandparent could.

If they can accept it why can't I? Justine was sitting in the patio as they ran out of sight. Gabriel and Marion were talking about something when Justine's mother, Aileen Brooks, came up beside her with a glass of red wine. Justine smiled at her mother, a short and slender woman with greying locks of long brown hair. Technically they were Jewish, but unlike Marion's family, they weren't super religious. They honored the holidays, but they still watched TV on Friday nights as a family and ate bacon. The only times they had been uncharacteristic was when her brother Eli was found with his boyfriend, but they had made contact since, even had him over for holidays.

Justine smiled gratefully, her own black hair cut short for simplicity, and taking the glass from her mother.
"How'd you know I needed it?"

"I've known since I saw you get out of the car," Aileen replied simply with a sigh, "When I saw the little girl. She's adorable, but I see the conflict in your face when you look at her."

"I didn't-" Justine paused. She couldn't just say 'I didn't have a choice'. That would have made it sound like Marion had gone out and had it done without even talking to her. Marion hadn't had anymore say in Jezebel's conception then her-she had just been a lot happier about it then her. Justine lifted her eyes to Marion, the copper haired goddess she had fallen for back in high school. A sad smile on her face, then frustration as her eyes moved to the pepper haired Gabriel beside her with his pale face, laughing at something her wife had said. "This wasn't what I was expecting."

"Life never is, my darling," Aileen laughed and hugged her daughter, "Are you happy?"

Justine paused, not sure how to answer that. Jezebel seemed fond enough of her, even if Justine hesitated a little bit before each kiss and every hug. It would be better if she wasn't here.

"I'm so proud of you, by the way," Aileen added softly, "Passed the bar on your first try. What direction are you going in again?"

"Personal injury, Mom," Justine laughed softly, "On a low budget balance. Between Marion's modeling career and that, I can help a lot of people who couldn't otherwise afford an attorney."

"So very proud," Aileen chuckled as she looked over, "Marine to Mother and Model. Who knew?"

Justine fought back a bitter comment as the cop emerged from the coffee shop across the street.  Someone had known, all right. She turned her head just before the gunshot rang in her ears. She didn't see what had happened, but Gabriel's roar and Marion's scream in her ears told her all she needed to know. Justine's eyes were wide as she pushed open the gate to run across the street and ducked through traffic.

Justine crouched down beside Jezebel. The little girl was still alive, but sobbing and screaming. The water pistol had fallen from her hand when she fell, and her white denim jumper was stained with blood. Her blood. Justine realized with horror as she tried to stop the bleeding, or slow it.
"Call 911!" She shouted, but given her mother was no longer outside she knew Aileen was already doing so.

"M-Mommy?" Jezebel whimpered as she reached out a hand. For the first time since she had been born, Justine grasped her hand without hesitation.

"I'm here, Jezebel, you're going to be okay," She whispered as she struggled for her voice not to crack.
"Where's Mama?"

"Right here, baby," Marion appeared beside Justine, paler than Justine had ever seen her, "Oh god this is bad...I mean it's her abdomen but given her age, her size..."

Marion had seen gunshot wounds in her time as a marine. Justine knew it wasn't just that her daughter had been shot that was causing her to tremble. While Justine knew law, Marion knew gunshots, and it didn't look good.
"It will be okay, baby," Justine whispered as Gabriel appeared.
"I can get her to the hospital faster," He whispered softly.

It was odd, that when Justine had first found out about Gabriel, who he was, what he was, and what he could do, she had resented him. But now she found herself exceedingly grateful for his abilities.

"Hurry," She whispered and nodded to him as Marion sobbed quietly. Gabriel nodded and with an unexpected grace scooped up Jezebel. Then, in a flash of light, they vanished from sight. And Justine found herself restraining Marion suddenly.

"You bastard!"

The former marine had been advancing on the cop, who was still staring, arms out, and literally holding the smoking gun.

"Marion, he's a public servant!"

"That was my daughter! My little girl!" The normally peaceful Marion had been triggered into a warrior, a force of nature, as she shrieked.

"She had a gun!" The cop protested, "She was chasing the man, I thought-"

"You thought I was being menaced by a little girl with a cheap water pistol?!" Justine father's exclaimed as he stepped forward,

Justine tuned out then, having to focus on Marion, calming her down. The fact that the ambulance didn't have a body to pick up, unless she let go of her wife, didn't really matter then. What mattered was her daughter had been shot. An innocent child she had resented the birth and life of-until she realized what the other option was. Until her eyes had been opened and all she could see was the blood on the little girl's dress, and all she could hear was the weak whimper as Jezebel had called for her. Mommy Justice, she called her, and Marion was Mama. Justice. An odd topic, given it had been a civil servant who had shot their daughter. Justine wasn't sure when that became releasing Marion who promptly disarmed him. Only that she got to watch her father pulled her wife off the cop after the warrior woman twist his arm, and possibly break it. I was wrong. Justine shut her eyes, perhaps praying for the first time in her life. Please. Please don't take Jezebel away from us.

Seeing a child in the the ICU was not an experience anyone wanted. Seeing their own child in the ICU was crushing. Gabriel had gotten her there promptly, and according to the nurses had proceeded to hijack equipment to keep Jezebel alive. She had lost blood, they had said, and they couldn't quite make out her blood type. Of course they can't. Justine thought as she stood beside the door, unable to approach the bed. Marion was beside the bed, whispering to the unresponsive girl. Gabriel had gone off, Justine didn't know where, but her mother had appeared soon enough.
"He thought she was a threat to your father."
"He thought he saw a black little girl chasing a white man with a water pistol," Justine glowered, "Let's be real. This isn't the first time. It won't be the last."

"I didn't say it was right," Aileen sighed, "Your father is getting some things. Coffee, mostly. Where's the nanny?"
"Hell if I know, but she wouldn't be here if he wasn't there."

Aileen seemed to pause for a moment before speaking softly.
"I've been trying to understand."
"Hm?"

"At first, when I heard about the situation, I assumed Marion had an affair with Gabriel. But upon seeing Jezebel, I knew that couldn't be the case."

"Heh, yeah," Justine smiled weakly, "I didn't want her. I thought I didn't want her. I didn't think..."
"Oh sweetheart, this isn't your fault," Aileen gave her a faint smile as her husband, Christopher Brooks, appeared with a tray of coffees, passing them out.

"Isn't it? If I had just walked away when Gabriel showed up and announced Marion was pregnant and that Jezebel was the Second Coming, you two wouldn't have known her, I would have never resented her, and she would have never come to Philadelphia!"

"Jezebel is the what now?" Christopher had already passed Marion her coffee. The bronze haired woman frantically looked to her wife, and Justine realized what had slipped out.

It was bad enough explaining this to herself. That an Angel of the Lord had appeared to tell Marion those years earlier that she was pregnant. That Marion hadn't been unfaithful, but chosen as a holy vessel. That Gabriel was the Archangel Gabriel, and that was why he was tasked with Jezebel's well being and lived with them. The ability to believe that had always been difficult for Justine, because by her beliefs Jesus Christ the first edition hadn't been a son of God. Suddenly Justine's step daughter was fathered by God.

"I mean-" Justine tried to find words, but Aileen held up her hand.
"That would explain much, actually."

"Aileen?!" Christopher exclaimed.

"While I was calling for an ambulance, I was looking out the window. That Gabriel fellow had picked up Jezebel, and then they both vanished in blinding light. I thought I saw the silhouette of wings, and I couldn't make sense of it...but perhaps..."

"Aileen, you can't be serious...this is..."

"Christopher our daughter's daughter by her wife has brown skin. Its likely her father isn't exactly European in descent," Aileen gave him a look.

"That's one thing but you're saying-"

"Your wife is correct."

Justine and her parents both became quiet when Gabriel reappeared with another woman behind him who was shutting the door. She had dark brown skin, and her hair in a series of mini braids with tiny beads. She was dressed oddly, in a khaki shirt and shorts, like Gabriel had pulled her off a safari. Now she was shutting the blinds of the room so no one outside could look in.

"Gabriel, what's going on?" Marion looked up slowly from Jezebel to gaze at the archangel who had returned.

"It's bad. But healing is not my forte. I had to find Raphael, it's her specialty. Unfortunately it took me a little more time then I would have liked because she was out in Africa."
"Africa?!" Aileen exclaimed, "Then how  did she get here so fast?"
"Angels travel on light beams, miss, it allows us to move much faster," Raphael replied simply as she shrugged off her top khaki layer to reveal a halter top below it, her back exposed, "You were right to call me in, Gabriel."

"This is getting ridiculous," Christopher began as Justine rushed to the end of the bed to watch, "Archangels? Gabriel? Raphael? A child of God? This is not the time to be making practical jokes! Your daughter-"

"Is going to live, thanks very much," Raphael's voice was rich, accented though Justine couldn't identify from where, "This isn't a test of faith. This is whether you can believe your eyes."

"Can you save her?" Marion inquired as Raphael began to pull the golden band off her right ring finger.

"It's close. But yes."

Justine could feel her father tensing and in the corner of her eye saw him trying to go to the door, but Gabriel stood blocking him. And then she heard her mother gasp, as two pairs of brilliant white feathered wings began to emerge from Raphael's back. I never figured Raphael was a women.. She mulled quietly as the archangel held her hands over the child and brilliant light began to appear from them.

Justine was reluctant to say she was witnessing a miracle, but she had no other words for it.  Her daughter had been shot, and it should have been fatal. But because Gabriel had whisked her to the hospital, and Raphael had appeared to heal her, Jezebel would live. Justine made a mental note that she would love Jezebel, that she always had even if she had been bitter about how she had come to be. But she was her daughter too, and she wouldn't take it for granted again. She turned to see her stunned looking parents watching the scene. Justine laughed softly and scratched the back of her head.

"So uh, yeah. Jezebel's father is The Lord. You can honestly say that, though the angels would prefer you didn't."

Marion seemed amused when they returned to the house of the Brooks after Jezebel was discharged by some very confused doctors. Justine had been clinging to their daughter and refusing to let go, and even when she sat down on the sofa across from her parents she had forgone her usual inch or two of space. Jezebel had fallen asleep on Marion's shoulder, so they were able to speak freely without her learning her destiny too soon. Justine, Marion, and Gabriel had agreed before she was born not to tell her till she was of age.

"So Jezebel is," Aileen's hand may have been shaking as she sipped her tea.

"The Second Coming," Marion nodded.
"Or First coming," Gabriel offered from behind the sofa, "In respect to your faith."

Justine felt a small smile at Gabriel's gesture as she watched her parents on the loveseat.

"And her father," Christopher took a breath, "Is The Lord?"

"If not, the other angels have been playing a rather mean prank on me for a decade, give or take," Gabriel snorted, "Yes."

"Other angels," Aileen replied quietly, "Like Raphael."

"Correct. She is the highest healer, able to perform the greatest miracles-everything short of raising the dead."

Justine reluctantly shifted away, standing up off the sofa as Gabriel and Marion discussed with her parents. They would be able to present it better, to explain it more gently than she was capable. Besides, Justine had a phone call to make from the kitchen.

"Hello, Philadelphia Police Station," An almost cheerful voice answered, "Where may I connect your call?"
"Hello, my name is Justine Brooks. According to the state of Pennsylvania, I am a Lawyer, and I am pressing charges for Marion Christi."
"Ma'am?"

"I also know one of your officers is trying to press charges against her for assaulting him. I would strongly suggest he drop them."
"I'll connect you to the chief."

A few moments passed and Justine glanced back into the living area at her family. Jezebel was stirring, so Marion was changing the direction of the conversation. She was smiling, but trails on her cheek and smears under her eyes showed where her tears of terror had fallen. Things wouldn't change overnight, but Justine could bring attention to it-attention no one would like, but attention that needed to be brought. It was a miracle she and Marion hadn't lost their daughter that day; without the holy intervention of two angels, they would have.

"Hello?" A voice finally spoke. "The secretary said you're representing Marion Christi's defense?"

"No, I'm pressing charges on her account."

"Ma'am, she assaulted an officer."

"After your officer nearly killed our daughter," Justine replied calmly, "I'll see you in court."

---

This particular short story is devoted to the Black Lives Matter movement, and all of the young people who have been shot to death because they carried a toy gun. Unfortunately, many of those teenagers, and some children even younger, weren't lucky enough to have a Guardian Angel, and now their families suffer their loss. We can only change the course if we speak up, and so I do.

Red: A Modern Fable

He was a predator of the party scene and his prey were the feminine forms on the dance floor. In a way, he reasoned, he was kind. He never went in for the kill and his prey always walked away alive. They were marked by his pursuit with bruises that would fade and invisible scars that might never heal, but they had their lives.

It was easy to guarantee their silence. While they trembled in the wake of his attack, he would speak to them.

"This was always coming to you," he'd say, "The way you talk, the way you move, the way you act. You danced with a stranger in a strange place. You should have known better. No one will believe you." With those words he'd depart and never consider them again. Society was experienced at shaming them into silence.

He'd struck a dozen women in the last six months and it hadn't caught up to him yet. That night he had groomed for the occasion, hair slicked back, cologne dabbed, shirt loose at the top and his pants pressed. He stalked through his hunting ground, one in a series of clubs he knew to have minimal security. His eyes gazed over the swaying hips of potential prey. He knew who to target; there was always a single woman isolated and desperate for company.

After a moment, he spotted her sitting alone at the bar. She was fair skinned with auburn hair cascading down her back and dressed in a maroon cocktail dress. Her long legs were accentuated by lace up sandals with a garnet pendant dangled just above her breasts. Her expression was distant, ruby lips slightly parted as she leaned on her arm, which ended in scarlet nails. He had found thirteen.

A careful advance assured him she was not waiting on anyone before he sat down beside her.

"You seem bothered," he initiated conversation with a charming smile. She turned with a sigh and a shrug.

"I don't have an ID so they're not serving me," she replied sullenly.

"You don't say," he chuckled, "How about I buy you a drink?"

"You would?" Her laugh was airy, "Well then, a glass of red wine."

"My favorite. Be right back," and he turned away with a dark smirk.

Like his previous victims she accepted his company without fear. Her brown eyes watched him as he told her the hollow lie of the evening. Tonight he was a lawyer, but other times he had been an athlete, teacher, or on occasion a fireman. She was entranced with his tales, her eyes not leaving him as he ordered a second round. His eyes didn't leave her, though he was subtle about his gaze. If he spooked the prey she'd flee, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"You know," she laughed as he ordered a third round, "You're just the man I'm looking for."

Finally he coaxed her onto the dance floor. This was all part of a careful system he had perfected on previous occasions. He'd locate a loner, earn her trust through chat and alcohol, and talk her into a dance. Once she got dizzy, and a little extra something in her drink always made sure she did, he'd escort her to another area where they'd be alone, and then he'd strike. It was a method that had not failed him yet.

This woman in red seemed to be holding her drink better, and she'd had one more round than most. He frowned as he watched her and pondered if he'd given her enough extra before she spoke.
"I need some fresh air!" She called out at last and he grinned.
"I'll come with you!"

He followed her upstairs and felt rather smug. The night air rushed into his face as she tossed open the door and a chill ran down his spine. However his smirk returned as she danced away from the door with a laugh.

"Over here!" She called out with her back to him.

He laughed and cracked his knuckles before he moved to join her. Several steps later, he swung his fist toward her gut to take her breath away. A dozen times he'd started it like this, and a dozen times he'd had his way. Except number thirteen's entire stance changed, and he realized he had been too slow. She'd been light on her feet with a happy go lucky demeanor the whole evening, but as she stepped out of the way of his swing she took a battle stance.. The woman in red caught his arm at the elbow and proceeded to bend it the wrong way. To silence his scream before it left him, her fist flew to his stomach. He gasped, stumbled backwards as pain racked through his body, and his mind became blank.

"Oh yes," the woman began as she picked him up by the shirt, "Just the man I was looking for."

What felt like days later she stopped her assault. His arm was mangled and most surely broken. She'd pounded his nose until he heard it crack and he could feel two matching shiners forming as he lay in fetal position. He couldn't be sure if cracked, fractured, or broken, but she'd done a hell of a job on his ribs before tossing him aside like a rag doll. The worst part was he couldn't even fight back because his body had been strangely heavy and slow.

"So focused on your scheme you never realized I was switching our glasses." Her voice was cold as she lit up a cigarette she'd nicked from his pocket.

"You tricked me," he murmured as he processed her words. The drugs he'd put in her drink had been consumed all right. He'd had six glasses of wine, and the additive he'd put in it to render her unable to fight back.

"Did I really?"

She tossed the butt of her cigarette at him and he winced as it fell precariously close to his swelling face.

"Not really. You assumed a lot. You assumed I was defenseless. You assumed I drank my wine. You assumed no one knew about those twelve women you raped." She responded. Panic filled him as he watched her circle.

"You'll never get away with this," he called.

"Hmph." She sniggered quietly before turning to him. Her eyes gazed icily upon him and suddenly he saw they were not brown but the dark red of dried blood.

"What's it to you?" He whimpered, "What are you to this?"

The woman began to circle him with an expression which seemed to become more cruel as he watched her in terror.

"This was always coming to you. The way you talk, the way you move, the way you act," they were his own words she spoke, sending fear into his soul like daggers, "You danced with a stranger in a strange place. You should have known better," her hand moved to her necklace, "No one will believe you."

With a tug, the necklace broke and his eyes grew wide in surprise as impossible red feathered wings appeared on her back, as if flickering into existence. Folded they were easily as tall as she was, but as she spread them he realized her wingspan was greater.

"It's not the drugs," she chimed with a smirk "They're mine."

"What are you?" He whimpered. She paused and contemplating her answer before she spoke.

"I am anger. I am wrath. I am fury. I am justice. I am vengeance," she proclaimed before taking flight into the night sky, "I am Red."

Jezebel Has Two Mommys

"Don't you want to go to paradise?"

"Huh?"

Jezebel Christi was five-years-old when the question was presented to her by a classmate. She tilted her head in confusion, auburn curls bouncing around her tawny brown face, silver eyes blinking in confusion. She was wearing a tie-dye jeans that she, as five year olds sometimes do, had already gotten a rip in the knees of during recess when someone said something about her mothers. She didn't know what "dyke" meant, but she could tell by the other student's tone it wasn't a nice word. Thus she had said her own word back, as Justine and Marion taught their daughter not to use bad words, but to use good words creatively. They had also explained in preschool, when Jezebel had gotten in similar trouble, that a lady never started a fist fight, but she could finish them. The boy hadn't know what rapscallion meant, and thus she had tossed out a "simpleton" on top of it. That had caused the first punch to fly, and the fight had ended when a teacher pulled Jezebel off him in the sandbox.

Now Jezebel had a note in her backpack, and a girl named Jane in pigtails beside her on the sidewalk while she waited for her Uncle Gabriel to come pick her up.

"At recess," the rosy skinned girl spoke again, "The word he said. It meant women who sleep with women as though a man should."

"...What does that even mean?" Jezebel blinked again.

"I dunno. Mama says that's enough for me to understand for now," The girl sighed, "So you have two moms, right?"
"Uh-huh!" Jezebel smiled brightly then, "Marion and Justine!"

"But," the girl looked confused again, "Don't you want to go to Paradise?"

"Where's Paradise?"

"It's where we go when we die, if lord Jehovah approves of our course of life," Jane explained matter-of-factly, "But...he doesn't really approve of two moms. He first made Adam and Eve, and husband and wife. That's how marriage works."

"Mommy says Adam is the first ever divorcee," Jezebel replied, "That he had a wife before Eve, named Lilith. Mama says it's more likely he just stayed married to both of them."

"I...don't know anything about that," Jane blushed, "Mama hasn't said anything about Lilith. But...it's still man and wife then. Don't you want to go to Paradise with your Mommy and Daddy?"

"I don't have a Daddy, I have a Mama and a Mommy," Jezebel replied as a silver pick up truck pulled up, a fair skinned man stepping out and around to open the door and help Jezebel climb in, "And if Jehovah won't let me into Paradise with both of them, I don't want to go!"

Jezebel's Uncle Gabriel caught the tail end of the conversation with Jane as he opened the door for her and raised a brow. He nodded to Jane and offered a small smile before closing Jezebel's door and getting back into the driver's seat. He wasn't in the strictest sense an uncle, but a close friend of the family, and Jezebel's live in caretaker. His hair was a pepper grey, a pair of spectacles over blue eyes.

"Who was that you were talking to, Jezebel?"

"Her name's Jane. I have a note that Mommy or Mama needs to sign. I got in a fight at recess."
"Jezebel you haven't even been in kindergarten a week!" Gabriel groaned, "What happened?"

"A boy told me Mama and Mommy were dykes. Whats a dyke? It sounded bad," Jezebel pouted.

"Well...it's not nice," Gabriel frowned, "Didn't you remember, words for words?"
"I did remember! Then I called him a rapscallion and a simpleton!" Jezebel protested, "Then he tried to punch me. I did the move you taught me where I dodged, pushed him down, and held his arm behind his back."

"Good girl," Gabriel couldn't help but smile affectionately at the little girl buckled in beside him as he began the drive home, "So. What was all that about Paradise that Jane was talking about?"

"Oh, she said something about someone named Jehovah and how he didn't think anyone should have a mommy and a mama, and how they couldn't go to Paradise, and didn't I want to. Who's Jehovah? What's Paradise?"
Gabriel winced, almost driving through a stop sign, but the man in the white shirt and grey vest sighed as he tapped the brake.

"Jehovah is a narrow minded bigot, and his paradise isn't worth half the trouble he puts people through to get there."

"Do you know Jehovah?" Jezebel blinked, "Jane said you can't go to Paradise until you die."

"...In a manner of speaking," Gabriel sighed, watching his words carefully. Maintaining Jezebel's innocence of her destiny was rather essential at this young an age. "I've...I wouldn't say worked with him. I have spoken with Jehovah. I know of his paradise. Supervised briefly, over the guidelines. I assure you, your mothers aren't missing anything by loving each other. Besides, no one should live every day in preparation for the day they die. God put us on the world to live our lives and make our own choices."

"Oh. Okay. Can we stop for ice cream?"

"Definitely not," Gabriel chuckled, "You'll ruin your appetite. We're having Chicken Pot Pie tonight."
"My favorite!"

Jezebel seemed content after that, babbling happily about her day like children her age sometimes did. However Gabriel was concerned about her classmate's actions. Jane was five, obviously, so she certainly didn't understand what she was doing. She was an innocent, he knew, which meant she was parroting words and phrases. It was most likely she had been taught them by her parents, and that bothered him. It was bad enough when people criticized one another, but trying to do so through their children? He deemed that unforgivable.

"There's my little miracle!"

Marion Christi, Jezebel's mother, was working on her garden when the pick up truck pulled into the townhouse. They got looks now and again, as the child with light brown skin looked nothing like the ginger haired woman she ran up to, proclaiming "Mama". Marion scooped her up easily, allowing the sun hat she wore to fall from her head, standing up to reveal dirt stains about her overalls.

"Jezebel, what happened to your jeans?"
"A boy started a fight, and I finished it!"

"Well that's all right then," the woman with freckled fair skin laughed a bit, "I assume I have to sign something?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Hey birdbrain, why do you look so pensive?"

Gabriel bristled as Justine emerged from the house, having heard them pull up. He had never gotten along with the brunette who remained under cover in front of the door to avoid aggravating her sunburn.

"Justine," Gabriel sighed as he crossed the sidewalk to her, and Marion began to discuss the garden with Jezebel, "Something happened at school today."

"A fight, I heard," Justine snorted, "Not the first time."

"We really shouldn't be able to say that about a five-year-old who started kindergarten a week ago."

"Hey, the preschool incident was justified. That bully should never have taken Amarinth's stuffed cat."

"She could have gone to the teacher."
"He was threatening to throw it out the window. Jezebel reacted accordingly."

Gabriel sighed and took off his glasses in order to rub his brow.
"God knows her brother wasn't this much trouble."

"What was that?"
"Nothing," Gabriel shook his head, "Hey, do we still have the class phonebook?"

"The one we got the first day? Yeah, somehow we haven't lost it yet. Why, Jezebel make a new friend?"
"Something like that."

Gabriel moved past her, and Justine didn't stop him. She was, at best, indifferent about her daughter's nanny. To be fair, Gabriel pondered as he found the tiny colored paper phone book the school had sent home, Justine hadn't been expecting to become a mother. Unlike Marion, the surprise had not been one she appreciated in the least.

It wasn't hard to narrow down the possibilities of which student Jezebel had talked to. He knew, in the last few days, that the classes were released together and kept in groups by class for safety. You couldn't be too safe in the new millennium. Thus, he found the only Jane on Jezebel's class page and dialed the corresponding number on the phone mounted to the wall. After a few rings a female voice answered.

"Hello, who is this?"
"Hi, are you Jane's mother? I found your phone number in the class phonebook."

"Yes, that's me! Please, call me Sally. Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, not at all," Gabriel leaned back against the counter, "It would appear there was a misunderstanding at school. I'm Jezebel's Uncle Gabriel, I picked her up today."

"Oh! The little girl with those people for parents?"

It was amazing, Gabriel realized as he squeezed the receiver in his right hand until the golden band pressed against his bone, that after all the years people could still get under his skin.
"Ah, yes, that was the misunderstanding," Gabriel took a breath, "You see, I work for Jezebel's father. He travels a lot, and so I keep an eye on her for him."

"Oh!" The sound of relief on the other end of the receiver made Gabriel frown, "Well that's not so bad. But why do two women live there? Janie said Jezebel called them both her mother."

"Well, Jezebel is five," Gabriel chuckled a bit, "Children her age get confused."

"That makes sense," Sally agreed.

"I was hoping to invite you, your husband, and Jane over for supper tomorrow night, if you don't have plans?" Gabriel inquired, "I'm making shepherd's pie from scratch. I figure we can clear this nonsense right up."
"Why that sounds lovely! I'll talk to Josiah when he gets home. It would be so nice for the girls to get together."
"Wouldn't it?" Gabriel chuckled a bit, "I promise. It would be a memorable occasion."

Gabriel had neglected to mention the dinner guests to anyone else until Justine marched into the kitchen from the entry hall.

"Why the hell are there Jehovah's Witnesses on our doorstep? And why do they think you invited them for dinner?"

"Oh did they make it?" He looked up and beamed a bit, "I did. A bit rude of Sally not to tell me Josiah agreed."

"...did you miss the part where Jehovah's Witnesses are at the home of the lesbian couple for a dinner party?!" Justine exclaimed, "Have you taken leave of your senses?"
"I have not," Gabriel replied calmly, "I am evaluating a situation before it arises to prevent future trouble for Jezebel in school."

"What are you talking about?!"

"She got in a fight because a little boy called her mothers dykes," Gabriel replied calmly, "And when I went to pick her up one of her classmates was quoting Jehovah at her about Adam and Eve."

"...Oh for-" Justine turned, "I'll let them have a new one. I'll-"

"I'll be handling the family, Justine," Gabriel smiled calmly, "Why don't you collect Marion and Jezebel and go out for pizza while I enlighten them?"

Justine began to protest, but the lawyer stopped when she saw Gabriel twisting the golden band on his right hand.

"...That good, huh?"

"It will buy Jezebel about six years of peace on the playground, if not longer, about this particular topic," Gabriel hummed, "I am nipping this situation in the bud."

That was all it seemed to take, and Justine slid out the back door to where Marion was pushing Jezebel on a swing. Gabriel smiled serenely, almost too calmly, and picked up a rather old looking japanese tea pot with a tray of cups and cookies as he moved to the entry hall. It took everything he had not to react right there, upon realizing the family before him had the nerve to criticize those he watched over while they themselves were of mixed race. Not that long ago it would have been people protesting your family. Of course, everything felt like not that long ago to Gabriel.

"Sally, Josiah, Jane! Charmed you could make it. Hope Justine didn't scare you off. She's going out to pick up Jezebel and Marion. Shall we retreat to the den for tea while we wait?"

"That sounds lovely," Sally beamed, her hair a short fashionable cut of dark hair, and her skin a light brown. This was a stark contrast to her husband, who Gabriel noted, was the aryan dream of blue eyes and blonde hair with pale skin. Forty years ago one of you might have been lynched. And you have the nerve to criticize this family?

Jane was in the same pigtails, an innocent who gleefully began nibbling a cookie as soon as they were all sat in the den, she and her parents on the sofa furthest from the door, and Gabriel pulling up an old fashioned style arm chair in front of the door.

"It's good to see little Jezebel has a father after all," Josiah spoke as he reached to sweeten his tea.

"Oh she does, but it's not me," Gabriel laughed as he sipped his own cup, "I just work for the man."

"Well its good of you to help out," Sally beamed, "I was trying to explain to Jane that both women who live here are not Jezebel's parents."
"But she called them Mama and Mommy!" Jane protested.

"Janie, Gabriel here told me that was not the case, and I'm sure he didn't lie," Sally shushed her daughter.

"Actually I never said that," Gabriel replied calmly, "Mama is Marrion. Mommy is Justine. They are very much in love and as close to happily married as two women can be in the state of Pennsylvania at the moment. I predict in a decade they'll be able to go through with it legally."

"Wait, what?" Sally gaped and her husband seemed to glare at her.

"Sally, you swore."

"Josiah, he said-"

"I said I work for Jezebel's father, and that children her age get confused sometimes. Like your daughter did, yesterday, when she started trying to criticize Jezebel about her mother's life choices. Not that it is a choice, it's a biological feature," Gabriel snorted and set his cup down, "Easy confusion. Basically I wanted to let you know it's completely unacceptable that you've already begun to teach your daughter to criticize others over things she has no business in."

"That's not what we-" Sally began to sputter as Jane blinked, looking between her parents.

"Mommy, Daddy, what's going on?"

"Your mother and father believe they have the right to judge others for how they live, sweetie," Gabriel smiled gently at her, "And to use you as their instrument to do so."

"But they said..."
"We told her the truth," Josiah spoke up, and Gabriel detected anger in his tone, "That Jehovah doesn't approve of behavior like those two women's. And that only if you obey his tenants will you go to Paradise-"
"Actually, Jehovah's Paradise has been full for a while now," Gabriel interrupted, "He's a judgemental prick, and the fact is he only ever was granted room for one hundred and forty four thousand. I'm afraid if you two continue down your current road, it's not paradise, nor Heaven, you'll be headed for."

Gabriel's candid nature seemed to shake both the husband and wife, and suddenly Jane began to cry.

"B-but," the little girl sobbed, "Then where do I go when I die?"

"It depends how you live, little one," Gabriel smiled softly, "How you live your life and treat others factors into it. You get angelic points and demonic points, and in the end, those are calculated. So treat people nicely and consider every angle before making judgement, and follow your own heart."

"I will not have some nobody," Josiah stood up then, "Talk to my daughter about things he assumes to know about! I am a follower of Jehovah, I know better! Sally, get Jane we are-"

"We are not done, Josiah Webber."

Gabriel's voice suddenly became louder, sterner, as he stood up and seemed impossibly taller. The light outside seemed to fade as grey clouds rolled in, but the thing he was sure shocked the Webbers the most was what happened when he drew the golden ring from his right hand. As his finger was freed, so too were a pair of magnificent downy white wings that were three times longer than he was tall in either direction, though he kept them folded due to lack of space.

Sally screamed, Josiah stared and seemed to slink back into his seat, but it was Jane who seemed to be the odd one out.

"Mommy, Daddy, he's an angel!" Jane squeaked excitedly, "Can I touch your wings, Mr. Gabriel?"
"If you wish, young one," Gabriel chuckled and knelt so she might do so.

"You're-that's-how-" Josiah began to stammer as his daughter ran over to pet the archangel's wings.

"This isn't real," Sally whispered, "You can't be-"

"I am," Gabriel looked up, "And I said before. I work for Jezebel's father. Now, as I am an angel, the Archangel Gabriel to be exact, who do you suppose that makes Jezebel's father?"

Both husband and wife stared in shock and horror, but it was Jane who squeaked happily in response.

"God, of course! Jehovah!"
"You're half right, little one," Gabriel chuckled, "God, yes. The same one who sired Jesus Christ. But not Jehovah. He's a seperate entity who came to exist in about...eighteen fifty? I think something like that."

"Oh, I see," Jane paused, "Does that make Jezebel the Second Coming?"

"Indeed it does! You're a very well learned young lady, Jane," Gabriel laughed, "I wish Jezebel paid as much attention when I try to teach her these things. But don't tell-it's a secret. She can't know the truth yet. Can you keep a secret?"
"Uh huh!" Jane beamed happily.

"Now ait a damn minute," Josiah spoke finally, "You can't just say Jehovah isn't the god. Gods don't just come into existence because people believe in them!"

"I can say that, because I am the voice of the Almighty Lord, creator of Heaven," Gabriel narrowed his eyes over his spectacles, "We were all equally startled. We thought we had a record of all the deities who would ever exist. I'm sure more will come to be in coming years. As I said, never cared much for Jehovah. Much like yourselves I found him far too judgemental, and his idea of Paradise, well, I found it lackluster."

"Then..." Jane paused, "...if I'm good..."

"If you treat people well," Gabriel smiled warmly to her again, "Heaven is whatever you want it to be. As long as your heart and soul are pure and good, and your actions done without selfish or bias intent."

"This is blashphemy," Josiah was sweating as he reached for a hankerchief from his pocket to wipe his brow, "If you are Gabriel..."

Gabriel sighed and stood up to straighten out, extending his wings a bit and allowing the golden ring to float into the air, where it moved behind his head and became a shining ring of light.

"I am Gabriel. The archangel. I am currently on this Earth, watching over Jezebel Christi, the Second Coming of Christ, and the daughter of God, Marion Christi, and Justine Brooks. If the Almighty sees nothing wrong with two women being in love, so much so he entrusted them with his child's safe keeping and raising, who are you to judge them?!" Gabriel snapped abruptly, "Twice in one day I learned my charge was accosted for being in a non traditional family unit. For the record, it's not non traditional. It has just been taboo for a while, which is ridiculous. Homosexuality has existed as long as homosapiens, and I would know!"

"But Adam and Eve-" Sally began to stammer as she tried to cling to her ideas.

"Were not the first hairless primates! They were just the ones God put in Paradise, much like today you would put hamsters in a cage with tubes and wheels and other toys," Gabriel groaned and removed his glasses to rub his face, "After their expulsion, Eve left Adam because it was his fault for paraphrasing God's words in the first place. As you can imagine that was about as effective as DARE's all drugs are equally bad. God said don't eat the fruit of knowledge. Adam said don't touch the tree at all. And do you know who Eve ran off with instead of Adam?"

The Webbers seemed terrified by his eruption again, and he suspected he had radiated celestial energy. It was Jane who spoke up then, surprising Gabriel.

"Was it...Lilith, Adam's first wife?" She questioned and tilted her head. The archangel lowered his gaze to her and found a small smile on his face.

"It was. Where did you hear that name, little one?"

"From Jezebel yesterday!" Jane giggled a bit.

"If you're an Angel," Josiah spoke up again, "Why do you need glasses?"

Gabriel frowned, wondering how he could hate two people so much but adore their child. He slid the spectacles back on and faced him.

"I use these to read a person's soul, Josiah Webber," Gabriel replied simply, "So I can evaluate the quality of any person who approaches myself or those I protect. I can count their sins in their aura, and note their virtues in their eyes. Trust me when I say things do not look good for you and Sally if you were to die abruptly in the near future. Now to make things perfectly clear, not only will neither of you judge Marion and Justine, nor will you judge anyone whose beliefs don't fit your own, and I would suggest finding a new church. Now get out of this house, so sayeth the Voice of God."

The Webbers were long gone by the time Justine and Marion returned to the house, carrying a tuckered out Jezebel. Gabriel sat on the front steps, his halo ring back on his hand and his wings once again hidden, while he imbibed in a pipe of dead leaves, one of his vices. Justine gave him an odd look and said nothing before going inside, but Marion came out a few minutes later after putting Jezebel to bed.

"So, what happened?" She sat beside the angel and dared to steal his pipe before coughing and passing it back, "Is that-"

"Not tobacco," Gabriel replied calmly, "I had a chat with the Webber family. I enlightened them."
"Why couldn't we be here to watch?"
"I didn't want Jezebel to see me like that," Gabriel replied simply, "And I still don't plan to tell her of her destiny yet. Preferably not until she's old enough to vote."

"That's fair," Marion laughed softly, "And it went well?"

"I put the true fear of god in them," Gabriel chuckled, "Oh, and ah, Justine is short a few laxatives."
"A few-" Marion gaped, "Gabriel! There was a little girl!"

"Who, as any five-year-old would, paid no attention to the tea I had laced with the laxatives, but to the cookies I brought out," Gabriel snorted, "This isn't my first judgement. I handled it."

"...thank you, Gabriel," Marion smiled softly, "I always thought you didn't approve of Justine and I."

"Oh I don't, but it's not because Justine is another woman," Gabriel chuckled, "It's because she terrifies me and likes to call my boss a rapist."
"He did put a baby in my belly without consent."
"You wanted to be a mother. Justine was on the fence about it."

"Justine is still on the fence about it."

"Do you have regrets?"

"No," Marion chuckled and stood up, "Well. One. That I couldn't see their faces."
"Especially when I told them Adam and Eve split and Eve ran away with Adam's ex," Gabriel chortled a bit.
"Wait-that-happened?"

"Oh yes. Humans have never quite figured it all out. Lots of mixed up messages over the years," Gabriel chuckled, "but I think this message was a little harder to misinterpret."

They didn't hear anything else about Jezebel having difficulty with her peers because of her parents again. It appeared Jezebel and Janie became friends after that, as Jezebel talked about her often, and Gabriel learned her parents had gone from Jehovah to Buddha. While an unexpected shift, he appreciated it and found it refreshing. That said, it was a few months later that he picked up Jezebel from school on Valentine's Day and noticed she looked a bit surprised. She didn't say anything, a rather unusual thing for the child, all the way home. Marion noticed when they pulled up to the house, and opened her mouth to speak when Jezebel produced another note for her to sign.

"Janie kissed me."

Then she walked inside and Gabriel was left on the lawn with Marion, who blinked, and began to laugh.

"How is this funny?" Gabriel exclaimed, "They're five, they shouldn't be kissing anyone!"

"Gabe, they're five. They don't know anything beyond kissing. Hell they don't even know about tongue and french kissing," Justine laughed, "Besides you kind of enabled this."

"How did I do that?!"
"Well, five months ago Jane's parents believed homosexuality would bar them from paradise. Now they're buddhists. You can be any more chill than that. Thus Jane came to realize far earlier then most children their age that it's okay to have a crush on someone the same sex as her! Though impressive chops, I couldn't ask out anyone until I was fifteen. Too shy."

"Marion get in here and talk to your daughter, I am not talking to her about love and kissing!"

Justine's shrill cry of fear caused the two on the lawn to exchange looks and burst into laughter before heading inside. Gabriel chuckled softly still, gazing out at the sky.
"Look out world, Jezebel's here, and she's going to change everything."