Abigail: Strange Things Come in Small Packages
Date: 2021-10-30 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Fantasy
Description: On what should be the happiest night of Adrian's life, his world is turned upside down by a strange package left on his doorstep. “Please take care of my daughter. Her name is Abigail.” But there is something strange about baby Abigail... something very wrong. A wash of emotion overcomes Adrian, and he is compelled to take care of her. His life is turned upside down and he can't help but notice that it all centers around Abigail, who appears to have a mysterious effect on anyone who comes in contact with her. How can Adrian care for such a strange creature, where could the child have come from
Publisher: Last Waltz Publishing

Abigail

By

Daemon Manx

Dedication

For Mom,

There is a forest within me, and your initials are on every tree.

In Loving Memory of,

Lois M.

The bar of the Del Monico was uncharacteristically busy for an off-season Thursday night. Venice, Florida, wasn’t exactly a tourist destination, especially during the middle of June. Still, for those that called it home, it did the job. Adrian Billard had lived in Venice his entire life. He had played in the lazy surf off Casey Key as a child, had gone to Venice High School, and had attended the Darkling School of Art before moving on to the University of Southern Florida. His artistic abilities and his acute attention to detail had procured him a full scholarship.

It was clear, even at the earliest age, that Adrian was different. He was a meticulous child, meticulous to the point of obsessive, really. He executed a certain fastidiousness in everything he did. The precise way in which he organized his closet and personal belongings was only part of it. For a young boy to be as painstakingly particular about his appearance as Adrian was unheard of. Cleanliness and hygiene were of the utmost importance, as well as his personal sense of fashion. This was decades before doctors were apt to label everyone who walked through their doors. However, Adrian indeed would have fallen into the category of obsessive-compulsive. But that wasn’t the only thing that set Adrian apart from the boys his age.

His mother had known that he was homosexual long before the idea had even occurred to Adrian himself. By the time he had realized and “come out,” it hadn’t been a shock to anyone.

Now, at the beginning of the third decade of the twenty-first century, being gay wasn’t supposed to be that big of a deal. It wasn’t supposed to be something you needed to hide in a closet, and it wasn’t supposed to be something that made you feel any less than the guy next door—certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Sadly, Adrian knew differently. He had experienced what it was like to grow up in the south in the “so-called” time of equality. He had known what it was like not to fit in. He had been called all those awful names, and he had felt the fists of acceptance. The horrible truth was that despite how progressive the world might have become, things caught on a whole lot slower in the south.

Although it wasn’t entirely an “Alternative” lifestyle bar per se, the Del Monico had been known to support the gay community and welcomed its predominantly male clientele.  Adrian sat at the bar picking at the microscopic particles of lint from his razor-pressed Marconi shirt that only he could see. He stirred a glass of sparkling water, which looked more like a cup of fruit cocktail rather than a beverage. With precisely one slice of lime, one lemon wedge, a twist of orange peel, and two maraschino cherries, there was little room left for liquid in the slender high-ball glass. He looked around the busy room and checked his watch for close to the tenth time. He let out an exaggerated theatrical sigh that was easily heard by everyone around him.

There was little that was subtle about Adrian if anything at all. He was flamboyant and overt, with a definite flair for the dramatic, especially when it came to displays of emotion. He had once been told by a former boyfriend that he wore his pain like a chartreuse ascot; loud, proud, and in your face. Gabriel, the bartender, had been within earshot of the spectacle, took notice, and felt obligated to inquire. He had known Adrian for years and had been the one to point out the ascot/pain analogy. They had remained friends and stayed close after breaking up, a feat nearly impossible for heterosexuals to pull off, but for Adrian and Gabriel, it had been an effortless transition. Venice was a small town, and the gay community was even smaller. These days, good friends were a rare commodity.

“Poor Adrian,” Gabriel said. “Can I get you anything? An audience, a soapbox? Perhaps you would like a cantaloupe to go with your fruit salad?”

Adrian smiled weakly. “Ha-ha-ha, very funny. You’re the only fruit I see around here.”

Gabriel offered a toothy grin and set his bar rag to the side. “Another no-show, huh?”

“Story of my life,” he let out another theatrical sigh. “Just shoot me already and put me out of my misery. It’s not just being stood up that chaps my ass. That’s only part of it. But it’s the whole freaking build-up. The games and the lies, and God, all of the bullshit.” He leaned in closer to his friend and lowered his voice. “I keep telling myself, this is it! No more online dating, then there I go again waiting around this dump for some loser to stand me up.”

“Excuse me!” Gabriel put his hands on his hips and pretended to act offended.

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean. This place isn’t exactly the Fritz Carlson.”

Gabriel looked around and shrugged. “Fair enough, apology accepted.”

“Gabe, why can’t I find a nice guy?”

“Sweetheart, you had a nice guy,” Gabriel struck a pose. “And you blew it...pun intended.” He winked.

Adrian laughed, then proceeded to go right back to sulking.

“Honey, we’ve known each other since high school, right?” Gabe asked.

“Yes.”

“So, I’m gonna’ be blunt with you. You’re a bit of a diva.”

“I am not!”

“Oh really,” Gabriel did his best Adrian impersonation. “I’ll have sparkling water with a slice of lime, one lemon wedge, a twist of orange peel, two maraschino cherries, and for God’s sake, not too much ice. Bitch...you put the D in Diva.”

Adrian pouted. “I hate you.”

“You love me, and you know it.” Gabriel leaned in. “Adrian, you have these expectations that no man can live up to.”

“I know what I like, that’s all.”

“And that’s why you should stop trying to find guys on Cinder. Half the time, it’s someone old enough to be your grandfather. Everyone on that site is completely full of shit. Present company excluded, of course.”

Adrian rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“Who were you meeting tonight?” Gabriel paused and then added before Adrian could reply. “No, wait, let me guess. A pilot...No, a doctor...No, that’s not it. Wait, I got it, an actor. You were expecting to meet Thomas Ellis!”

“You know, for a guy who works for tips, you’re really awful at this.”

“So, I guess I’m wrong then?” Gabe stated.

“No, he’s a doctor.”

“Mmm-hmm, or so he says. Well, it’s his loss. Doctor no-show can kiss my ass!”

“Excuse me, are you Adrian?” a voice startled them.

Both men looked to the owner of the voice. He was tall and handsome. His jawline was sharp, and his eyes were piercing. When he smiled, his teeth sparkled in the barroom neon. Neither Adrian nor Gabriel could speak; they awkwardly stared for an uncomfortable moment.

The stranger asked again. “Are you Adrian?”

Gabriel nudged his friend from across the bar.

“Yes,” he fumbled. “Of course, I’m Adrian.”

“I’m Michael. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he shook Adrian’s hand. “I was worried that you might not be...well, you. You know, online dating and all. You never know who you’re talking to until you meet them face to face.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Adrian smiled.

“Uh-hmm,” Gabriel cleared his throat. “Adrian, aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome friend?” He was blushing.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Michael, this Gabriel. Gabe, this is Dr. Michael Ezekiel.” He emphasized the doctor part.

Gabriel held out his hand and curtsied when Michael shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” Michael said.

“Well, be still my heart. Has anyone ever told you that you look like Thomas Ellis?”

“Actually, no. No one ever has,” he answered.

Adrian looked up and shot Gabe a nasty look. “Pay no attention to the lady of the house,” he said, as he placed a twenty on the bar and winked at Gabe. “Nice talking to you, Gabriel,” turning to Michael. “I believe our table is ready, it might not be the best, but it definitely isn’t the worst. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re really here. I was certain you were going to be a no-show.”

Adrian turned to Gabe and silently mouthed, “Oh my God,” while Michael wasn’t looking. “Well, Michael, to tell you the truth, I was thinking the same thing.”

“Well, maybe this is the sign of something good.”

Adrian could feel the blood rushing to his face as he led Dr. Michael Ezekiel to their table. Gabe watched in disbelief as they walked away. He looked around to see if he was being watched, took the twenty off the bar, and slid it in his pocket.

***

The evening had been perfect. Adrian had been swooning before the main course had been served and was in love by dessert. Dr. Mike was polite and charming as hell. They said goodnight in the parking lot and shared a kiss that neither of them wanted to end.

“Will I see you again?” Adrian asked.

“Count on it,” Mike answered.

Adrian drove home in a trance-like stupor, reeling from the evening. His heart was beating fast, and he was sweating. Dr. Mike had been every bit the man his profile had said. He was tall, professional, educated, shockingly handsome, and most importantly, not completely full of shit.

“Dr. Ezekiel, report to emergency,” Adrian said to himself.

The drive to his home on Venice Isle had been short, just over the bridge from the town of Venice itself. He pulled into his driveway, feeling slightly foolish as he caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. He tried his best to quell the enormous grin on his face, but he found it nearly impossible. He was on cloud nine.

Locking his car and fumbling for his house keys, he mindlessly navigated the walkway from the drive to the front door. His thoughts were elsewhere. He didn’t see the object on his front step until he was nearly on top of it and tripped over it as he reached for the door.

Startled, he jumped back and stared at the strange object in amazement. The porch light and the streetlamp gave the unknown mass the appearance of something ominous. The light cast from several directions stretched the object’s shadows to gross proportions. This made it look as if it had long legs, spider’s legs to be precise. A giant demonic spider had found its way onto his porch, had pretended to sleep, and waited for the opportune moment to pounce on its hapless victim. It was just Adrian’s luck too. He would be cocooned and slowly digested on perhaps the happiest night of his life. This is how it ends, he thought, goodbye, Dr. Mike. Maybe I will only be injured, and Michael will come and save me. “Dear God,” he said. “Gabriel’s right. I am a diva.”

He tentatively leaned in for a closer look. With a slightly more sensible grasp on the moment and a little less imagination, he realized that it was not a spider at all. It was a large wicker basket, much like the kind used to deliver edible arrangements. Only this one was much bigger.

“What on earth?” Adrian bent over the basket.

It was approximately two feet long, oval-shaped with a handle on either side. A large tangle of pink blankets lay tousled together inside it. The blankets billowed out and over the sides.

“Pink spider,” he laughed at himself for being so foolish only moments ago. He stared at the mysterious package. Conscious that he had been standing there for perhaps a little too long, a sense of vulnerability washed over him. He scanned the yard, to the left and to the right. An agonizing sense that he was not alone overtook him. It suddenly occurred to him that he was being watched. The feeling was impossible to ignore.

“Who’s there?” he yelled into the dark. “I have a gun, so don’t try anything.” He lied.

The yard was still and silent. The only answer was from the Florida insects, some of which were so big that they could qualify as predators. Otherwise, the night was quiet. He managed to convince himself that his mind had been playing tricks on him and that he was alone. Adrian mustered up all of his courage and slowly extended his leg toward the basket. He carefully nudged it. It was heavy; he noticed the resistance right away. There was something substantial inside, more than just a few pink blankets.

Fighting his apprehension, he bent down and cautiously tugged at the corner of one of the blankets, attempting to expose the contents. “Please don’t be snakes, please don’t be snakes...Oh God, don’t let it be snakes.” Adrian hated snakes. He slowly tugged at the corner of the blanket.

The attack was lightning quick. The small viper shot out and struck Adrian’s pointer finger. He winced as the sharp teeth touched his skin and held fast. He screamed and attempted to retreat. He tried to jerk his hand free from the serpent’s bite, but it clenched down tightly and refused to release his digit from its maw.  God, it was strong and so heavy. He frantically jerked his hand in a vein display of futility. He succeeded to only rock the basket, disrupting its contents. Adrian realized that this would only release even more of the deadly snakes.

“Gee-hee,” the sound came from within the basket.

He looked closer at the snake. “Dear God,” he gasped. It still held tightly to his finger, but it wasn’t a snake at all.  A tiny arm had reached out from the swaddle of blankets and grabbed him. It was grey for the most part, with varying shades of brown on the knuckles of its tiny hand. The fingers tapered at the ends to where little talons grew out from the tips. The claws had initially looked like the fangs of a snake, and still did.

“What on earth?” he said for the second time that night.

Craning his neck to get a better look, he visually followed the tiny arm to where it emerged from the part in the blankets. Not sure why he was doing it or how he had found the courage, he used his free hand to spread the covers. His heart stopped when he saw it.

A wide pair of violet eyes looked up at him. Silver flecks around the reptilian pupils flashed in the pale glow of the porch light. A hypnotic chimera washed over him as he fixed on the strange gaze. Suddenly, he felt weightless and out of the body; the sense that he was floating several feet above the ground was consuming. Adrian found himself face to face with the most peculiar vision.

“Gee-hee-he,” the strange baby looked up at him and laughed. A smile spread across his own face as he studied the creature. Its chubby face was similarly colored, both grey and brown like its arm. Several lines of lamella-like scales accented its cheekbones, jawline, and brow. Out of the child’s forehead, nearly centered above its strange eyes, two bony protuberances grew to fine points. Adrian touched the child’s small horns and gasped in wonder. They were perhaps a quarter of an inch in length, ivory in color, and curved slightly upward, and they were so small.

“Oh my,” he muttered.

“Tee-ha-ha,” the little one answered, flashing another pulse of silver that seemed to light up the entire porch.

Again, a feeling of light-headedness flooded his senses as he peered into the baby’s eyes. A baby like none other he had ever seen, but a baby, nonetheless. His heart began to beat even faster, and a warm rush of emotion filled him. He smiled as the sensation took him.

The baby yawned and flicked a tiny pink tongue that was split down the middle, forked like a serpent’s.

Adrian parted the blankets, fully unwrapping the strange gift with great care and attentiveness as he exposed the child to the warm night air. Brown flecks peppered either side of the baby’s rib cage and the inside of its legs. Several rows of the lamella lined the abdomen and the kneecaps and appeared to grow right out of the child’s grey flesh. Its toes were taloned, just like its fingers to perfect points.

The only article of clothing that the child wore was a pink diaper. Adrian noticed the folded piece of paper that had been pinned to it. With his free hand, he carefully popped the safety pin and unfolded the letter. He read out loud, “Please take care of my daughter. Her name is Abigail.”

“Ohh,” the child reacted to the sound of her name. Her eyes fixed on him.

“Hello, Abigail,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ouuu,” she answered in reply.

He wiggled the finger that Abigail still held on to. “Aren’t you so sweet?” he said. “Yes, you are.”

His feelings of apprehension had been silenced. His concern that this baby was an abnormality and a stranger to this world no longer mattered. She was beautiful. An undeniable sense of veneration had seized upon him and affected him. It was a deluge of emotion; it was powerful and consuming. He instantly loved little Abigail and knew in his heart that there wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t do to protect the strange child. Some magical force had placed her in his path, and as bizarre as it was, for a non-conventional man like Adrian, the blessing was a welcomed godsend.

“I got you,” he said as he picked her up.

With his precious cargo in tow, Adrian opened the front door to his house. He was taken back by the emotions that seemed to overpower him; he couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how he tried. And the idea of taking the strange child into his home struck him as the perfectly natural thing to do. He had no idea who or what she was, but he was thankful that she was there.  And Adrian felt for perhaps the first time in his life...comfortable.

The only other item to accompany Abigail, besides the blanket, diaper, and note, was one empty baby bottle. And about a half-hour after entering the house, she began to fuss and cry. Adrian realized that the poor thing must be starving. He had no idea how long it had been since she had last been fed. If her parents were the type to abandon their child, they were very likely the kind who would neglect them as well. But Abigail certainly didn’t appear to be malnourished in any way. Of course, he had never seen anything quite like her in all his life. What would such a child eat? He began to wonder. The answer was quickly discovered.

Adrian had never seen the need to keep a fresh supply of baby formula on hand. He did, however, enjoy 2% milk in his morning coffee and had bought a half-gallon just yesterday. As a child, he had seen his mother heat bottles on the stove. But since he had just the one, he didn’t want to risk damaging it. He decided to heat the milk in the microwave, in a separate container, and then transferred it to the bottle. After checking the temperature on his forearm, he gently placed the bottle to Abigail’s lips.

Her hands shot out, and seized the bottle, pulling it into her mouth in a blur. Her cat-like reflexes and pinpoint accuracy were comparable to the attack of a rattlesnake. It was no wonder why Adrian had mistaken the baby’s hand for something a bit more lethal. Abigail didn’t sip at the milk, and she didn’t suckle. She ravenously gorged herself and emptied the contents of the bottle in three to four gulps.

“Oh, my goodness. I guess you were hungry.” She continued to suck fiercely at the empty bottle. Adrian carefully pried it from her grip, and she immediately began to cry again. She flailed her arms in his direction in an attempt to seize the empty bottle. He refilled it and gave it back to her. Again, she pounced on it like a leopard and proceeded to down the contents in a frenzy.

The second round appeared to satisfy her. Adrian placed the bottle on the table and prepared to burp her. Before he could pick her up, he noticed Abigail’s eyes again. They appeared to grow wider for a quick second. Then, the silver around her pupils doubled in size, nearly blocking out the violet completely. A look of discomfort creased her brow, and Adrian was positive that she was going to cry again. Then, Abigail opened her mouth and erupted. She vomited directly at Adrian. It shot out of her mouth like a fire extinguisher, hitting him directly in the chest, soaking his shirt and pants. She ejected sour milk across the dining room table and onto the floor. The force of her discharge was so great it hit the wall behind him and even made it into the kitchen, some four feet away. When it was finally over, Adrian looked up at the child as vomit dripped from the tip of his nose. It ran down the legs of his slacks and puddled in his shoes.

“Ha-ha-ho,” Abigail laughed with a look of devilish satisfaction on her face.

***

A mortified Adrian quickly discovered that apple juice and oatmeal were far more suitable choices for the severely lactose intolerant child. He changed out of his vomit-soaked clothing and threw the entire outfit in the trash. Abigail was fast asleep before Adrian even finished bathing her. He watched her as she stirred in the same blanket she had arrived in. It was hard to believe that the peaceful little angel was the same monster that had just vomited all over his African teak dining room set, and him as well. Still, with the smell of vomit oozing out of every one of his pores, he found it was impossible to be mad. In fact, he felt rather foolish for not being more diligent in her feeding. Lesson learned, he thought. No milk...check.

With Abigail fast asleep, Adrian put on an old pair of swim trunks and commenced with the painstaking process of vomit clean-up. He washed and scrubbed and shampooed. He soaked and bleached; he rinsed and disinfected every surface in the dining room and the kitchen. He mopped the floors, he squeegeed the walls, he hand-shampooed the carpets. When he was nearly satisfied that the job had been completed to the best of his abilities, he repeated the entire process over again. At three-thirty am, he was in the shower, attempting to remove the combined smell of bleach, disinfectant, Mr. Gleam, and vomit from his skin. At four-thirty, a very water-logged Adrian collapsed into bed. An hour later, a crying Abigail needed to be fed again.

That morning he sat exhausted with an extra-large cup of coffee in front of his laptop. He logged onto Amazone Primal and proceeded to fill his cart. He ordered a bassinet, a crib, a car seat, a carry-all, and a year’s supply of diapers and baby wipes. He ordered ointments and bought bottles with extra nipples, super-strength disinfectants with four cases of bleach, and three cartons of Mr. Gleam. He added brightly colored blocks to his cart, soft squeezy stuffed animals, a bouncy seat, and jumpers and socks. He ordered hooded onesies and pink pajamas, pink shorts, and pink shirts. He avoided all dairy products, but he loaded up on apple, grape, and fruit juices by the score. He stocked up on oatmeal, farina, strained carrots and peaches, and peas by the truckload. He then entered his credit card number and placed his order.

Sitting back, nearly drunk from the shopping excursion, he wondered, for the first time: How am I going to explain this child, and how will people react when they see her? Thoughts of abnormality and deviations had been replaced as the perfection of her beauty had been realized. But that was him; he had been called upon. Others might not see Abigail for the innocent being that he did. They may very well fear the child. Adrian knew all too well and had first-hand knowledge of the brutality that his race was capable of. He had experienced it on far too many occasions. He remembered the day he had been chased into the woods by Uriel Davis and his gang of thugs. Adrian shuddered; he knew the beast’s true nature and how it reacted to those that were different. And Abigail was definitely different; he had never seen anything like her in his life. But she was special, a gift—his gift. She would not experience what he had gone through, not if Adrian had anything to say about it.

As a graphic artist and designer, Adrian had been lucky enough to make a decent living and even more fortunate to have been able to perform most of his work from the comfort of his own home. Still, there were times when he absolutely had to leave the house. Not every task could be taken care of as easily as clicking a mouse. However, he figured he could significantly reduce his interaction with the public if he applied himself. He logged onto his Cinder account and noticed a new message from Dr. Mike.

“Oh no,” he said. He had forgotten entirely about his date last night, and it had gone so well. But something rather big had come up. Still, after a lifetime of failed relationships and an extremely long run of disastrous first dates, he had finally met someone that he couldn’t find anything wrong with. Even Adrian knew that he was difficult; he was the type who could pick out the flaws in a sunrise. And it wasn’t as if he was going to find anyone as perfect as Dr. Michael Ezekiel. Had he met Mike on any other day, he would have been head over heels beside himself. Today, however, it came as an ironic slap in the face.

None of that mattered now. What mattered was Abigail, and he knew what he had to do. He highlighted Michael’s message, and he hit delete. Then he went to his account settings and deleted his Cinder account entirely. He deleted his Macebook page and his Catch account as well. The only social media utilities he left intact were his work email and the personal instant messenger he used to keep in touch with family.

Now, there were no distractions that could get in the way of the only thing that truly mattered, Abigail’s well-being. The serendipity of her appearance on his doorstep allowed him an acute clarity he had never experienced. When all the projections of the unforeseeable future were reduced to one moment and all the pretentiousness of the “so-called” modern world were stripped away, the beauty of acceptance and unconditional love was all that mattered. The ability to love one of God’s creatures unencumbered by prejudice or fear was a quality that Adrian had seen little of in his lifetime. It was also an attribute he had no idea he might possess. But now he thought, maybe... just maybe. Still...she was just so different.

***

The Feral Express truck arrived at eleven thirty-five a.m. the following morning. Adrian answered the door and witnessed an all too familiar occurrence. The change in the delivery man’s face was nearly instantaneous. The pleasant look of openness seemed to wash out of the man’s eyes the moment Adrian opened his mouth.

“Oh, fantastic!” Adrian said, perhaps a bit too dramatically. “I was expecting you.” He knew that at times he was a bit over the top, perhaps a touch too flamboyant. But it wasn’t in his nature to tone it down.

He watched as the look in the driver’s eyes changed from: Good morning, sir, to, Get a load of this fruitcake. Adrian had seen it and experienced it countless times before. Most were tactful enough to keep their thoughts to themselves, but that wasn’t always the case. All too often, weapons in the form of, Queer, Sissy, Homo, and Nancy Boy had been thrown at him out of contempt and disdain. The “sticks and stones” aphorism was most inaccurate. Names could hurt, especially when they were used out of hatred and ignorance. Although a barrage of disparities throughout a lifetime had thickened his skin, he was in no way immune to the indignation. And the look on the driver’s face pierced him like an arrow through the heart. It hurt no less today than it had when he had been a boy all those years ago.

Adrian took a fifty out of his wallet and handed it to the driver, which seemed to ease the tension momentarily. “If you could just bring it to the front door, I’ll take care of the rest,” he said.

“I could bring it right in here,” the driver motioned to the living room.

“That would be great, thank you.” Adrian noticed the quick flash of contempt once again. The fifty would only go so far.

The driver wheeled package after package from his truck into the living room. Adrian didn’t realize just how much he had purchased. Box upon box, all bearing the Amazone logo, slowly filled every inch of the floor, leaving very little room to walk. The stacks continued to pile up and crept closer and closer to the ceiling. With each successive trip from the truck to the living room, the disapproving look on the delivery man’s face deepened. For whatever reason, the guy was clearly a homophobe.

Abigail began to fuss again. She had been napping in Adrian’s bedroom all morning; it was nice that at least one of them had gotten some sleep. Leaving the Feral Express man to contend with the last of the packages on his own, Adrian walked into the bedroom. Abby stopped fussing right away and greeted him with a huge smile. She raised her hands to him the moment he entered the room, her tiny talons grabbing at the air. Thoughts of narrow-minded, homophobic delivery men had been pushed aside for the time being.

When Adrian picked her up, she wrapped her tiny taloned hands around his neck and nuzzled her head on his shoulder.

“Who’s a little cuttlebug this morning?” he asked.

“Ugg,” she answered.

“I bet I know a little girl who’s hungry,” he bounced her in his arms as he walked to the kitchen. His focus was on exactly one thing; time to feed Abby. He had a vague recollection that he had been in the middle of something, but it was only a vague recollection. That something...whatever it was, could not have been all that important.

He carried her from the bedroom to the kitchen, mindlessly navigating a path through the sea of boxes in the living room.

“Oh my God!” an astonished voice gasped.

He turned to see the delivery man standing there with his jaw agape and his eyes open a mile wide. Adrian suddenly remembered what he had been doing; he had been directing the delivery man. Abigail looked up at the man, a wash of silver-flash filled the room.

Adrian cursed himself under his breath; how could he have been so careless? He hadn’t had Abby for two full days and had already let an outsider see her. He braced himself for the delivery man’s reaction; it wasn’t going to be good. If this guy had a hard time accepting homosexuals, how on earth would he react to Abby? What would be the repercussions of his carelessness? Surely, the guy would freak out and probably start screaming. Then the police would be called, and Abigail would be taken from him. She would be studied like a lab rat, treated like a freak. How could I have been so reckless?

He held her tighter and watched the slack-jawed expression on the man’s face suddenly change. The sharp look in his eyes softened and appeared to glaze over. His opened mouth closed slightly, then turned into a giant smile. He continued to stare at Abigail, but for some reason, he didn’t scream.

“Gee-hee,” she laughed.

“She’s beautiful,” the delivery man finally said. His voice was different. “What is her name?”

Astonished and startled by the man’s reaction, Adrian stammered with the words. “Ummm, h..her name is A...Abigail.”

Suddenly, tears began to stream down the man’s face. “Hello, Abigail,” he sobbed.

Silver crescents reflected in his eyes.

“She’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!”

“Thank you,” Adrian replied. He couldn’t believe what was happening, definitely not the reaction he had been expecting.

“Can I have her? The man asked.

Adrian started, not sure if he had heard him correctly. What did he just say? The man hadn’t asked if he could hold her, he hadn’t asked if he could see her, he had clearly said, “Can I have her?”

“No!” Adrian shouted and took several steps back away from the man. He pulled Abigail closer and shielded her from sight.

A look of tremendous sadness crossed the man’s face. “Oh,” he said. “Are you sure?”

“I am quite sure!” Adrian asserted, unable to understand what was happening.

“Oh,” the man said in a most deflated way. “She really is perfect. You must be so proud.”

“Yes...yes, I am,” he stammered once again, eager to terminate the exchange. “Well, we have a lot to do, so thank you for all of your help.”

“It was my pleasure, have a wonderful day.” The man hunched down a little with tears still rolling down his cheeks. “It was so nice to meet you, Abigail.” Then he looked up at Adrian with silver reflected in his eyes and smiled even brighter. “I hope I didn’t offend you, sir. I sometimes act rude when I find myself in awkward situations. I guess I’m not comfortable in my own skin, and I find it self-gratifying to act like a jerk rather than deal with my own insecurities.”

Adrian stared back at the man in awe. What on God’s earth had just happened? Clearly, this wasn’t the same delivery driver that had walked into his house less than an hour ago. What was going on?

“Goo-hoo,” Abigail cooed in reply.

With that, the man walked out the front door, entered his truck, and drove away.

Adrian looked down at Abigail and focused on her peculiar little eyes. The silver around her strange violet irises appeared to grow and pulsate as if they had their own heartbeat. He rocked her in his arms and stood there amidst a warehouse of packages from Amazone.

“What the hell was that?” he whispered.

***

That week, as the boxes were slowly unpacked and their contents found their appropriate places in Adrian Billard’s once methodically ordered home, a fascinating transformation occurred. Although the change in the dwelling had been sudden, the difference in Adrian had been quicker by far. It had been instantaneous, and what had been so surprising, it had been involuntary. Without thought, Adrian had put aside his compulsive, obsessive nature like an old pair of shoes.

His perfectly pressed Marconi shirts lay in a crumpled mess at the bottom of the hamper, no longer perfect nor pressed. Such an act, only a week ago, would have been considered blasphemy and sacrilege. Now his hair was nearly always disheveled, his face unshaven, and the shirt he wore was wrinkled and spotted with strained carrots.

The house looked more like a nursery rather than a gay man’s bachelor pad. And although he was still meticulous about cleaning, the exact obsessive placement of each item within the household was no longer important to him. In fact, he didn’t even think about it.

The meeting with the delivery man had weighed heavy on his mind. He found himself replaying the scene over and over, trying to make sense out of it. He had expected a different reaction from the man who had entered the house, a bigot, and a homophobe. But something extraordinary had happened. The man hadn’t seen Abigail as different; he didn’t see the physical abnormalities that set her apart from normal children. He hadn’t seen any of it. Instead, the Feral Express man had reacted much like Adrian himself had. He had found the child beautiful; he had found her perfect in every way. He had even wanted her for his own. The man had been crushed when Adrian said he couldn’t have her; the guy had been in tears. What the hell was that? Then there had been the complete personality change in the guy, which was even weirder. The homophobic hater had developed a conscience and an IQ in less than an hour. The guy had actually articulated a genuine apology that sounded one hundred percent heart-felt.

Adrian’s cell phone began to vibrate on the table. He wiped his fingers on his shirt and checked it. The text from Dr. Mike read: “Hey Stranger, did u drop off the face of the earth? Trying to get in touch w u. Hope u r ok. Pls text, M.”

He had received three calls and several texts from Michael since their date and had ignored them all. He felt horrible. He wanted to see him again and share what had happened. He wanted to introduce him to Abigail and show her off. But he knew that wasn’t a good idea; he didn’t think the world was ready for her, not even Sarasota Bay’s leading pediatrician. Instead, he deleted the text and popped a Giggles DVD into the player. Abigail watched and bounced happily as the questionably hetero quartet sang about the letter B. “Can you think of a word that starts with the letter B?” one of the Giggles asked.

“Yeah, Butch,” Adrian replied. “Something that you four queens know nothing about.”

“Eens,” Abigail repeated.

***

By the time Adrian and Abigail had settled into the routine of family life, a month had passed. At times it was touch and go, ebb and flow, and a definite learning experience all the way around. Adrian had relinquished all but the most minor holding of his obsessive nature. The last of which he clung to like a life preserver, that was the part that kept Abigail’s world tidy and disinfected. And that was perhaps all that remained of the old Adrian. This new creation was well on its way to becoming a future soccer mom. He boiled bottles, changed diapers, watched Giggles DVDs, cleaned, cleaned, and cleaned. He worked while Abby napped and was, by his estimation, pumping out some of the best work of his career. He continued to ignore Michael’s calls and figured that he wouldn’t have to do it for very much longer. The latest text had read: “I feel like I might b bothering u. Don’t want 2 b that guy. It was nice 2 meet u. I hope u change ur mind, M.” He had left both his home and office numbers.

Adrian held the phone and felt the lump grow in his throat. His eyes misted over, and he began to cry. Looking at Abby in her bouncy seat, he bit back the sting of tears. She stared back at him; there was something in her peculiar eyes...a knowledge that he could not describe. Maybe he was overthinking. He was melancholy and maudlin, and he was feeling sorry for himself. It was selfish; he knew that. But he couldn’t help it. Still, he had never seen an infant with such a look of understanding before. Hell, he had never seen anything like Abigail before, for that matter. “What are you thinking, Abby?” he asked.

Later that night, after Giggles, bath, and clean up, Adrian lay Abby in her crib and sat down on the couch. He was fast asleep in seconds. The recognition and familiarity of the dream was instantaneous. He had been in this situation before and had the same recurring dream more times than he could count. He restlessly stirred as his body tensed and jerked. His fists clenched tightly as panic raced through his veins. Suddenly, he was running for his life. Looking down at his legs, he watched as the wooded underbrush blurred beneath them. His feet, a good four sizes smaller than the ones he owned today, darted over ankle-breaking ruts and femur-snapping deadfalls. A younger man’s heart, beat in his chest and pumped at a frenzy as it attempted to compensate for the strain it was under.

Small branches and swatches of Spanish moss struck his face as he ran through the woods behind Venice middle school. Occasionally, the blade of a saw palmetto would catch him just right, tearing his clothing and drawing blood from the flesh beneath. Adrian had dropped most of his books early into his flight for survival. The last of which, a sketch pad from art class, he held fast to his chest, protecting it for dear life.

The air above his left ear broke with a whistle as the first rock was thrown. It missed his head by only a few inches. Young Adrian’s legs pumped even harder and began to burn.

“We’re gonna’ get you, homo!” one of his assailants screamed behind him.

He ran faster as he cut through the thick Florida brush behind the school. It was a narrow stretch of woods that terminated at the Intercoastal waterway. Adrian was quickly running out of ground, as well as direction; he was rapidly approaching a dead-end that would smack him right into the Gulf of Mexico. Another large projectile was thrown, this one connected with the center of his back. He winced at the pain as the rock stole the wind from his lungs. He bit through the sting and double-timed it towards the coast.

It had been more than difficult growing up in Florida; Adrian had discovered that he was very different than the other boys in his class. And they had quickly learned that he was different as well, which hadn’t been good at all. He had never been interested in sports or any of the activities that his fellow classmates had flocked to. Most of the games that the children had played either struck Adrian as barbaric or immature. The idea of physical contact with other children had left him feeling uncomfortable and incredibly insecure about his own physicality. Adrian was a thin, quiet, and shy boy for the most part, and that had paired naturally with his obsessive nature throughout much of his early years.

When he got to middle school and found himself in that awkward stage that all children go through, he had become even more confused and insecure around the other boys in his class. It was difficult for him to explain his feelings and even harder to identify with the other children.  So, Adrian had withdrawn into his true passion, which had been his art. He would spend most of his free time locked in his bedroom connected to one of his sketch pads by either a pencil or a piece of chalk. In school, Adrian would draw and sketch nearly every chance he got. However, he was always mindful not to allow anyone to see his work. He was sure that he would be misunderstood; at the very least, he was afraid of being laughed at.

Most of the children had identified Adrian as strange and simply chose not to associate with him. But not everyone was as passive about their interactions with the thin awkward child. A few had decided that it would be entertaining to give Adrian a hard time every step of the way. Three boys had set their sights on Adrian that year and had waited for him nearly every day after school to taunt him on his walk home. During October of that year, their taunts had turned to physical confrontations, which had quickly escalated from shoving to actual blows. So, Adrian had gotten very creative in finding ways to avoid the boys on his walk home from middle school.

Uriel Davis, Raphael Roma, and Joseph Selaph typically waited for Adrian at the school’s side entrance. They had caught him off guard several times before Adrian had realized that he could trip them up by exiting the building from different doors each day. That worked for about a week until the boys decided to split up to cover more exit routes.

One particular day, Adrian had grabbed his books and ran out the back entrance amid a large group of students as the dismissal bell sounded. He tried his best to blend into the crowd. He had been unsuccessful, and Uriel Davis had been waiting for him. A startled young Adrian took off running across the back lawn, but soon all three of the boys were in hot pursuit. He jumped the fence and entered the woods beyond the field, which seemed like a good idea at the time. As the cover of the trees and the thick brush started to thin, and the view of the dunes that dead-ended at the Intercoastal loomed ahead, Adrian knew that he had made a terrible mistake.

He exited the woods and began to crest the dune; his feet dug into the sand and slowed his progress. By the time he had reached the top of the massive sandbank and was able to see the large body of water in front of him, the other boys were on him.

Uriel Davis was the first one to catch up to him. Adrian felt the boy strike him from behind; he was knocked off his feet and landed face-first into the sand. A second later, he was grabbed under each arm and lifted up. Joe and Ralph had seized him and held him tight as Uriel approached; the boy stood so close that Adrian could smell his breath.

“Well, what do we have here?” Uriel snatched the sketch pad from Adrian’s hand.

“Give it back!” Adrian struggled to get away from the other boys, but they held him back.

“Shut up, sissy!” Uriel barked as spittle flew from his mouth. “Let’s see what the little fairy’s been up to. He flipped open the pad to the first page and tore the cover in the process. Adrian felt the lump growing in his throat and had to fight back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Oh, this is nice!” the boy said mockingly as he stared at the picture on the first page. A gothic sketch of a great demon had been displayed on the paper. Adrian had used pencil and charcoal and had obviously spent a great deal of time on the piece. The creature’s musculature and physical presence were precisely defined and accentuated; there had been great attention to detail in the artwork. The demon was nude and clearly male. It was also very anatomically correct and more than just well endowed. “I should have known!” Urial hissed as he tore the page from the book and tossed it into the wind.

“No!” Adrian screamed as he watched twelve hours of work loft away on the breeze; it finally came to rest at the water’s edge. He couldn’t hold it back any longer; the first tear fell to his cheek and was quickly followed by more. His shoulders slumped as his spirit was crushed.

The second page in the pad revealed a piece of work that had taken Adrian at least twice as long to complete and had been one he was incredibly proud of. Uriel stared down at the sketch and burst out laughing. “Oh, my God! You really are a fruitcake, aren’t you?” There were two gothic creatures portrayed in this drawing. Both were represented as physical and muscular as the demon in the first picture. There had been an equal amount of detail to the accuracy of their anatomies as well. The demonic beings appeared locked in a perpetual battle with each other that had come to a stand-still as they grappled.

However, Uriel saw it for what it was, and the creatures hadn’t been fighting at all. The two male figures clutched each other in a physical embrace that spoke of longing, passion, and intense desire. It was a remarkable piece, and the raw emotion that transcended through the page was quite a feat for such a young but talented boy.

“G...give it back,” Adrian managed, the tears streamed down his face.

Uriel flashed the picture to his friends and then dangled it in front of Adrian’s nose. “And what are you gonna’ do if I don’t, cry?” He snatched the pad back and rifled through the pages. “You disgust me, freak!” Uriel screamed and drove his fist into Adrian’s belly. The child doubled over in pain as the wind rushed out of him. He gagged on his tears. Raphael and Joseph loosened their grip on him for the moment.

“We can’t have this, you know. I can’t have you drawing this fairy shit while you’re sitting next to me in class. I don’t want you looking at me and getting any ideas.” He closed the pad violently and dangled it over Adrian’s head again. “So, here’s what I am gonna’ do, I’m gonna’ kick your ass, and then I’m gonna’ get rid of your garbage for you.”

It hadn’t been the first time that the boys had gotten physical with him. And it hadn’t been the first time that he had been called little girl, sissy, or even fairy. But he had never had his property destroyed and had absolutely never had his art disrespected so.

“You can thank me later,” Uriel tossed the pad like a frisbee into the air. It caught on the breeze and carried Adrian’s work out over the Intercoastal. It cartwheeled for a moment and then landed in the water.

“Nooo!” Adrian screamed as he watched months of his work get swallowed up by the ocean. His blood boiled under his skin, and his temperature rocketed. Joe and Ralph had eased their hold on him just enough, and neither one of them had expected Adrian to try anything. He hadn’t expected anything himself either—until it happened. But no one was more surprised than Uriel when Adrian broke free, and he pounced like a feral cat.

None of them had time to react as Adrian shook off Ralph and Joe and lunged at Uriel. He threw himself at the boy with his hands stretched out in front of him. Adrian landed on Uriel and immediately drove him backward and to the ground. They came down hard on the dune with all of their combined weight on top of Uriel. Adrian drove his knee into the boy’s nuts. All of the wind was knocked out of the child, along with most of his willpower. Uriel was unable to defend himself as Adrian began to rain a barrage of fists down on him. Most of which merely grazed the child, but some found their mark and connected with the boy’s face.

Adrian was unable to prevent the tears from falling, many of which landed on Uriel and began to mix with the blood that had started to flow from the marks that Adrian had added to the child’s face. He continued to scream and wail as he attacked the boy. He had been dealing with the insults and humiliation and all of the abuse for far too long. It all came out that afternoon like an explosion. He gave Uriel Davis every ounce of his frustration and resentment and then some.

Neither of the child’s friends thought to react or were unable to do so. They simply watched in dumbfounded amazement as the frail object of their pursuit turned the tables and proceeded to pummel the ever-living shit out of Uriel Davis. Finally, Uriel was unable to flail his arms any longer and simply gave up attempting to. Adrian had exhausted his own reserve and stopped throwing punches. He looked down on the battered features of the boy and began to cry even more uncontrollably. Uriel’s face had been brutalized near unrecognition. Adrian stared in shock and disbelief at what he had done. His stomach turned, and he nearly threw up on the child. Uriel groaned and looked up at Adrian through eyes that were already beginning to swell shut.

“Look what you made me do!” Adrian screamed and sprang to his feet. He was ready for the others to jump on him, but that never happened. Instead, they flinched and backed away from him as he rose from the ground. Adrian ran back the way he had come through the woods and cried hysterically the entire way home.

It was a day he had never been able to forget and had had the repeating nightmare as a constant reminder. Even today, it still affected him as it did back then. He tossed on the couch as the dream played out. Every time was as if it were happening for the first time, all over again. He had run nearly two miles and had collapsed in his backyard beneath one of the older pines on the property. His breath hitched in his chest, and his head pounded. The tears had finally ceased, probably because he was dehydrated from running so far. He had always thought that he would feel somewhat better about his situation, but he hadn’t. He imagined that even the slightest sense of triumph should accompany the fact that he had just stood up to Uriel and the other boys. He had never even imagined that he had the ability within him to do what he had done.

But it had come with no sense of relief. There was no consolation for doing what he had done to the boy’s face. Instead, he was repulsed by his actions; he felt no better about standing up for himself, and probably worse because of it. He had despised the boys for the way they treated him and the way they made him feel about himself. And that had more to do with him than it did with them. Adrian knew that the boys would never amount to much and would more than likely never get out of Venice. The best any of them could hope for would be to avoid jail for as long as possible, which would be difficult. Still, Adrian had always felt “less-than” when he was around his classmates. He had always felt “othered” by their presence and not good enough because he was different.

As he lay on his back gasping for air, Adrian realized that the way he had been feeling had nothing to do with the other children and had everything to do with him. He was different. He knew that. More than likely, he was never going to feel comfortable, and he was never going to find a place where he fit it. He hated himself for being born the way he had been. And he hated the other children who had all appeared to be normal compared to him. The encounter should have made him feel as if he had finally gotten a win, but what had happened after school had only made him feel sick, and it had made things worse. There was no triumph in it at all. He had lost his sketch pad, which was perhaps his most valued possession, but he had lost something even more precious than that. He had lost a part of his soul; he had given into his base nature and proven that he was no better than the boys who had taunted him day after day.

Adrian hated the three boys for what they had done to him and what they had forced out of him. But more than that, he hated himself for allowing it to happen. Now, no less than twice a week, he could expect to relive the same nightmare over again as if on cue. He would find himself running through the woods after school, and then he would wake up from the dream, bathed in sweat and feeling as if he had lost an essential part of himself all over again. Even after all these years, the pain was fresh every time.

He could feel the dream fading and that all too familiar pang in his chest. His heart tightened as it raced and pounded inside him. The fever-flush burned within him and filled him with anger and desperation. Suddenly an even stranger sensation overcame Adrian. The tension and anxiety that typically accompanied the dream were gently replaced by something entirely different. A warm tingle began to pulsate in his chest and then started to radiate outward. It spread to his arms and then his hands, throughout his legs down to his toes. It found its way up the base of his spine and settled in his head. It was soothing and cool and strangely intoxicating.

Suddenly, Adrian could no longer hold onto the anger and resentment that always coincided with the dream. He felt the strange new sensation in his chest and head and was filled with such a sense of euphoria; it was impossible for him to feel anything else. He was content, he was happy, and it was amazing. As the last of the dream faded and Adrian started to open his eyes, he had one clear thought. So, this is what Love feels like.

He sat up slowly with only a slight memory of that awful day. He woke up refreshed and feeling better than he had ever felt in his life. There wasn’t any room for anger, or hatred, or resentment left in Adrian. Something had happened to him as he slept, and that something had been nothing short of a miracle. He blinked as a bright silver light filled the room.

It momentarily snapped Adrian from the blissful trance he was under. He looked up to see Abigail staring at him. She was standing up in her crib with every ounce of her attention focused on him. The child’s strange violet eyes were intently set on Adrian. It was alarming, and in his confused state, it was difficult to understand what was happening. The unearthly violet irises pulsated and then flashed a brilliant silver that filled the room once again. A wash of sensation flooded his body and sent the strange tingle rippling throughout his extremities.

“What on earth are you, Abigail?” he asked as he stared in wonder. “How am I going to take care of you when I don’t even know what you are?” Adrian stared at the strange child that had been left for him on his doorstep. She was like nothing he had ever seen before and clearly possessed powers beyond comprehension. He knew he was in over his head and knew that he was more than just under-equipped to care for this child. He was out of his league and destined to mess this up. But what was the answer, what was the alternative? He was absolutely never going to let any harm come to her and had already devoted his life to her well-being. But he needed help. He looked at the reptilian eyes as they pulsated the most intoxicating shade of violet to silver. He examined the strange lamella-like scales that lined her face and hands and wondered. The tiny little horns that protruded from Abigail’s forehead weren’t even the biggest mystery of her existence; they definitely ranked up there. It was the power that the child had that struck Adrian as so profound. She could generate love; it was as if the baby could create it. He had witnessed what the child had done to the delivery man, and now she had had similarly affected him.

Adrian imagined that Abigail would have the same effect on anyone she met, which presented a conundrum in itself. If this child could do this to anyone, then how could her own parents abandon her? It seemed an impossible feat for anyone to accomplish. He knew that he would never be able to turn his back on her; in fact, he would sacrifice his own life for her in a heartbeat. What could possess her mother to abandon her? He had chosen to believe that it had been a woman that had dropped the child off at his door. Possibly, the child’s mother had found herself in the same predicament and realized that she was ill-equipped to care for the baby, as well. Perhaps she had been a drug addict or even homeless and had chosen a suitable surrogate to care for Abigail.

Adrian had come to think that he had been picked for a reason to become Abigail’s guardian. And as her guardian, he realized that there was no way that he was going to successfully raise a child without her ever visiting a doctor. Perhaps, Abigail was more exceptional than he imagined and possibly immune to common ailments that affected normal children. Still, Adrian wasn’t about to risk it. There was no way he was about to leave it to chance, and there was no way he was going to mess up what appeared to be one of God’s greatest miracles.

He got up off the sofa and crossed the room to where she stood, watching him from her crib. He picked her up and bounced her up and down. Adrian had an idea and figured that there was perhaps one man in the whole world that he might be able to turn to. He took out his cellphone and scrolled through the numbers. He hit send and waited for the phone to ring on the other end.

The phone was answered on the second ring by a familiar male voice that made Adrian’s heart flutter when he heard it.

“I thought I was never going to hear from you again,” Dr. Mike said eagerly.

“I am so sorry that I didn’t call you back sooner,” Adrian told him. “You must hate me by now.”

“Not at all,” Mike assured him. “I was worried about you. I thought that we had a nice night together. I was wondering if I did or said something wrong. You just disappeared, and when you didn’t return any of my calls, I figured that it must have been me.”

Adrian’s heart hurt. “It wasn’t anything you did. In fact, you did everything right, better than right, you were perfect.” He paused and searched for what to say next.

“Well,” Mike inserted. “There had to be something, I figured. I felt as if we hit it off nicely.”

“It’s nice to hear you say that. I feel the same way, and believe me, it was so hard not calling you.”

“So, there was a reason why you were avoiding me?” Mike asked.

Adrian exhaled and rocked Abigail as he prepared himself. “There was, and yes, I was avoiding you. But not because of anything you did. It’s very complicated, and that’s why I am calling you now. I didn’t know where else to go,” he could feel himself getting worked up and tried to calm down. “My niece has been staying with me, and well...well, I was wondering if there was any way that you could take a look at her?”

“Is she alright? She isn’t sick, is she?” Mike was instantly concerned.

“No, she isn’t sick. In fact, she’s probably the healthiest child I have ever met. But I really need your opinion about a few things that I am concerned about.” Abigail tugged at Adrian’s cheek with her tiny taloned fingers. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I need to tell you something, Michael. Abigail isn’t exactly your average baby girl. In fact, she’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

Dr. Mike chuckled for a moment and then quickly regained his composure. He sensed the tension as Adrian spoke and realized that he might have insulted him. “I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just that every parent thinks their child is unique and that there is something extraordinarily different about them. I assure you, Adrian, I have been in practice for nearly ten years, and there isn’t anything that I haven’t seen when it comes to children.”

“I know you think that, but trust me, you haven’t met Abigail yet.” Adrian bounced her again as she tugged at his cheek. “Promise me one thing,” he said with all the urgency he could muster.

“You’re scaring me, Adrian. Believe me, I am sure that your niece is absolutely perfect.”

“You have to promise me something first!” Adrian blurted. “You can’t tell anyone about Abigail. You are going to want to share what you see with other doctors, and you have to promise me that you won’t do that.”

“Adrian, what’s going on?” Mike could tell that something had happened to Adrian since he had seen him last. He had gone through something life-altering.

“Promise me,” he pleaded.

“Ok, I promise. Whatever you think I will want to talk about, I promise you that I won’t. Whatever happens in my office, stays in my office. I swear on my oath as a physician that you have nothing to worry about. Is that ok?”

“Yes.” Adrian relaxed slightly.

“Can you be at my office at 11:30 tomorrow morning?”

“That would be great.”

“I’m in the Devlin Medical building, 316 Osprey Ave.”

“I know the place,” Adrian replied. “Oh, and Mike.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. You have no idea how important this is to me.”

“Well, it looks like it’s the only way that I’m ever going to get a chance to see you again. So be here at 11:30, and I look forward to seeing you and meeting Abigail.”

“Great,” Adrian was unsure if he had done the right thing by calling Dr. Mike. “We’ll be there.”

***

Adrian sat in the large waiting area with Abigail discreetly tucked away in her carry-all. Despite the eighty-plus degree weather, he had covered Abby in as many blankets he could find to help disguise the child from the eyes of the public. The women who shared the room with them sat patiently, their own infants and toddlers in their arms and at their sides. The place was far too crowded for Adrian’s liking. He couldn’t help but notice how nearly all the women continued to look his way and at the carry-all where Abby was hidden. At first, they would glance at him and the crib, but that quickly escalated. It wasn’t long before every set of eyes were staring at the carry-all that lay between his feet.

Adrian didn’t have time to react when the first woman left her seat and approached them. She crossed the room, bent down, and parted the blankets that covered Abigail’s face.

“Oh my God!” the woman gasped.

Adrian panicked and finally reacted. He quickly arranged the blankets to cover the child’s face and defensively moved the carry-all out of the woman’s reach. She had seen it; she had seen the strange deformities in the child, and now she would start screaming. Adrian prepared for what was about to happen next.

“My God!” the woman exclaimed again. “She’s absolutely gorgeous. What’s her name?” She moved in closer and parted the blankets once again. Adrian watched as the woman examined the child. She stared into Abigail’s violet and then silver eyes and smiled as if all of her needs had been satisfied. The woman scanned the child’s strange grey features, her oddly placed scales, and the tiny nubs of horns that jutted out from the fantastic creature’s forehead. Abigail yawned, revealing her reptilian split tongue.

“Oh my! Who’s a sleepy little girl?” The woman cooed. “She is magnificent.”

One by one, the rest of the women in the waiting area approached Adrian and Abigail. Their reactions were exactly the same. They marveled and swooned over the child. Not one of them noticed anything out of place or peculiar about her. They were all mesmerized by her beauty and perfection. Abigail had hypnotized the entire room.

“Dr. Ezekiel will see Abigail now,” a young woman said through the receptionist’s window. Not a moment too soon. Adrian was more than just a little uncomfortable with all of the attention that the women were doting over Abby. As he fixed the blankets and picked up the carry-all, an extraordinary thing happened, and Adrian noticed it instantly. The glow of tranquility and adoration that had consumed every face in the waiting room was suddenly washed away and replaced by something entirely different. Their eyes followed him as he carried Abby out of the waiting area. The look of sadness and longing was so firmly etched into their features that it was impossible to mistake it for anything else. The women were more than sad that Abby had been taken from them. They were devastated.

The women had left their own children unattended in their strollers and in their chairs. Their thoughts had been consumed by Abby’s fantastic gift, and they were already missing her.

Adrian entered the office area and was glad to put the claustrophobic waiting room behind him on the opposite side of the door. He was directed down the hall and into one of the exam rooms. Upon entering, he placed the carry-all on the examination table and leaned in to speak. “I’m sorry all those scary women wanted to bother you,” he jumped as the door opened behind him.

Dr. Michael Ezekiel entered the room and flashed a million-dollar smile. He wore a fashionable Pierre Cartel button-down with a brilliant white lab coat on top. Adrian immediately noticed that he looked terrific, even in the unforgiving fluorescent light of the exam room. His eyes were every bit as piercing as Adrian remembered, and not a hair was out of place. Adrian looked down at his own wrinkled shirt with fresh carrot juice stains and felt self-conscious.

“It’s so good to see you again. And this must be Abigail.” He walked to the bassinet, where Abby was still wrapped up tightly in her blankets.

“It’s nice to see you too. And thank you for this,” Adrian tensed up as Dr. Mike approached Abby. “Here, let me get her.” He quickly moved in and cut Mike off before he could see the child. Adrian carefully parted the blankets, making sure to block the doctor’s view as he did. His stomach tightened, and his nerves screamed. What was Mike going to say when he saw Abby? Would he have the same reaction as the women in the waiting area, or would he recognize the child’s deformities? Would he see what no one else had been able to? Adrian’s heart raced wildly as he lifted the child out from her covers. Surely, Mike would identify the defects, the abnormalities. He was a doctor, after all, and no matter what spell Abby had cast on the others, Mike would be able to see through it.

Adrian held his breath and then turned with the child in his arms. He held her out for the doctor to see. The stark lights of the exam room accentuated the child’s strange features. They revealed nearly every pronounced lamella and brown splotch on her dark skin. Mike approached the child with his mouth agape. He leaned in closer to examine her more intently. Abigail’s tiny taloned fingers grabbed at the doctor’s stethoscope as it dangled within reach.

“My God!” he gasped.

“Thank goodness,” Adrian was filled with relief.

Mike’s eyes widened as he looked at the child and then at Adrian. He removed a penlight from his coat pocket and flashed it in the child’s eyes. He watched as the violet irises pulsated from their deep hue to silver and then back again. Then the doctor parted the pajamas that she was swaddled in and listened to her heart with his stethoscope. “Well, I’ll be,’” he gasped. He examined the ridge of scales that lined her ribcage and jawline. With the tentativeness of a snake charmer, he extended his finger then touched the tip of the small protrusions that jutted out from her forehead.

“Hee-haa,” Abigail giggled and shot her tongue out from between her lips. It licked Mike’s finger with its forked tip.

“Adrian,” he whispered.

“Yes,” he finally let out the breath he had been holding.

“Whose child is this?” he looked Adrian in the eyes. “The truth. Because this is definitely not your niece.”

“Then you see it too?” Adrian asked.

Mike stared back at him with a puzzled look. “What is it that you think you see, Adrian?”

“Surely, you see it. You examined her eyes. I watched you.”

“What about her eyes?” Mike asked.

“Just look at them,” Adrian cried in exasperation. “There’s only two. Where are the rest of them?”

“They haven’t opened yet,” Mike explained, then pointed out the two slits just below Abby’s eyes on either side of her head. “The ducts are developing nicely, and her peripheral sockets should open in another month or so. It’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

“Nothing to be alarmed about!” Adrian repeated. His voice was shrill. “What about her horns? You can’t tell me that’s normal.”

“What about her horns?” Mike looked at him, questioning.

“They’re so small, it’s not like they are there at all. Even my little brother’s horns were three times that big when he was her age, and he was a premature baby.”

“Well, I’ll admit that they are a bit small,” Mike explained. “She is such a tiny thing, after all. But it’s pretty common for a Succubi to have small horns.”

“Succubi?” Adrian gasped.

“I know,” Dr. Mike exclaimed. “I can’t believe it myself, but your ‘niece’ is a Succubus.” Mike raised his eyebrows and looked at Adrian doubtfully as he emphasized the word niece. “Actually, Abigail is the first one I have ever seen—in-person that is. I’ve studied Succubi physiology and anatomy in Med School, but I never had the privilege. So, tell me, Adrian. Whose child is she, really?”

Adrian watched as Abigail’s perfect taloned fingers played with the end of Mike’s stethoscope; her beautiful eyes pulsated from violet to silver and then back. He swallowed hard and figured he had already come this far. “She was left on my doorstep. I found her the night of our date.”

Mike chuckled. “I guess that explains why I haven’t heard from you. I’ll cut you some slack this time. I imagine you have been more than a little busy.”

Adrian relaxed and wiped at a bead of sweat that had broken out on his brow. He proceeded to scratch the tip of his own horn. “You’re telling me that Abigail is a Succubus? I thought that was all mythology, like horses and humans. You’re not about to tell me that humans are real too, are you?”

Mike smiled widely and shook his head. His perfectly white, pointed fangs sparkled in the examination room’s fluorescent light. “Adrian, I am surprised at you. For an educated homosexual man, you certainly don’t know very much about Demon genealogy. There was a time when there were just as many humans on this planet as there were Nephilim. Actually, it is only because of them that we exist at all. Did you know that there is only about a ten percent difference between your DNA and a human’s? We are practically the same.” Mike took Abigail in his arms and held her up to look at her more closely. At over seven feet tall, the doctor’s great horns nearly touched the ceiling. Adrian watched as his giant taloned fingers wrapped around the child and encompassed her entire body. It affected Adrian to see how good he was with her.

“I thought there was something wrong with her,” Adrian explained, feeling rather foolish. “I saw the strange differences in Abigail, the tiny horns, the silver in her eyes, not to mention that she only has two of them. Then her coloring, it’s just so different. I mean, look at me, look at you. We are both a dark scarlet color, have four eyes, and enormous Demon horns.” Adrian blushed. “Yours are much bigger than mine. But I am just saying, everyone has large horns, even infants. Everyone, as far as I know, is born with four eyes. And I have never seen a child or anyone that color; she’s grey and brown, for crying out loud. She is just so different than us I thought she might be,” he hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I thought she was deformed or something. I don’t know what I thought, but I definitely thought that others would be frightened when they saw her.”

“I’m sure you were surprised to find that wasn’t the reaction at all. In fact, I bet that everyone fell in love with this beautiful child the moment they laid eyes on her.”

The tears were begging to well up in Adrian’s eyes, all four of them. “That’s exactly what happened.”

“That’s where the myth actually started. Most people associate Succubi with seduction and romance, but that’s not the case at all. Their true power is the ability to bring out the best in us; they have the power to erase negative emotions and replace them with positive ones. They can…”

“Generate love,” Adrian finished his sentence.

“Yes, more or less.”

Adrian gasped and covered his mouth with his large taloned fingers.

“I got to admit, Adrian. I am a little surprised at you. If your life was anything like mine, growing up a homosexual in the deep south of Amerika, then you know what it is like to be different. You know what it is like to be judged unfairly and treated as a second-class citizen. I’m sure you know what it’s like not to fit in and I would have expected a different reaction from you. Abigail is different, in a very perfect and precious way. That makes her one in a million. Actually, I think Succubus birth rates are closer to one in a billion. That makes her one of God’s most special creations. Although her features are not exactly the same as yours or mine, there is nothing wrong with her. She isn’t deformed or strange in any way; she’s absolutely perfect.”

Now the tears streamed down Adrian’s cheeks. He blinked and wiped at all of them but was unable to stop the flow. “I feel so ashamed of myself.”

Mike reached out and took his hand. He cradled Abigail in his other arm while she played with his coat pocket. “You shouldn’t be,” he assured him. “You had every right to be concerned. The ones who should be ashamed are the people who abandoned her. You took this child in and were willing to give up everything for her. You were even willing to give me up, and I’m quite a catch.” Mike smiled, then continued. “There will be people in her life who won’t accept her, and there’s nothing you can do about that. Too bad for them because they will be the ones who really miss out. But I think you will find that there will be even more people who love Abigail as much as you and accept her for the perfect creation that she truly is.”

Adrian approached Mike and allowed the doctor to place his arm around him. Adrian continued to sob and looked down into Abby’s eyes. Pulsing silver flashed and lit up the entire room for a moment. A rush of emotion filled Adrian, and he felt his embarrassment and humiliation fade. It was replaced by a feeling of incredible warmth and belonging; it was replaced by love. “She’s so beautiful,” he gushed.

“Yes, she is,” Mike agreed. “And she’s lucky to have you. I think you are going to make a great daddy.”

“Addy,” Abigail giggled and looked up at Adrian affectionately.

“Oh my God,” he marveled. “Did you just call me daddy, Abby?”

“Addy,” she repeated.

“Sounded like daddy to me,” Mike agreed. “I am going to set you up with a schedule so that we can start getting Abby her vaccines and boosters. And I have some literature that you might find helpful. Also, I sure hope that I won’t have to wait until your next appointment to see you both again.”

“Not a chance of that,” Adrian replied. “I am sorry I was avoiding you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Mike replied. “There is one thing, though, when it comes to raising a Succubus that you must know.”

Adrian held his breath and waited to hear what Mike would say. “Yes.” he gasped.

“Under no circumstances, whatever you do. Never, ever try to feed her milk. Her digestive system will reject it immediately. It won’t kill her, but you will definitely regret it.”

Adrian grimaced as he recalled the projectile vomiting and his first attempt at feeding Abby. “I probably should have called you much sooner,” he laughed.

“Gee-hee,” Abigail joined him as a wash of silver lit up the room.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Daemon Manx is an award-winning author who writes horror and speculative fiction. He is a recipient of the 2021 HAG award for his story The Dead Girl. He is a member of the Horror Authors Guild (HAG) and has been featured in magazines in both the U.S. and the U.K. Daemon lives with his sister, author Danielle Manx and their narcoleptic cat Sydney where they patiently prepare for the apocalypse. There is a good chance they will run out of coffee far too soon.

www.daemonmanx.com
daemonmanx@yahoo.com

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