Wrath and Love

Wrath and Love Chapter Thirteen


Pepito's grip on the microphone tightened to make up for the sweat that produced slack as he smiled a fake, cheesy smile at the packed Great Lawn in Central Park before turning back to the man that was mounted on the cross center stage. “I'll ask you only once more, Swine!” He paused as there was an uproar of approval from the crowd. “Will you accept the mark or will you bow to the blade as a coward to meet your 'God'?”

The man employed what looked to have been a great effort to lift his weary head, displaying a broken and bloody nose that he had probably gotten from one of the guards when they had tied him to the beams of wood. Long nails had already been driven into several places on his arms and legs, though as of yet, nothing vital had been pierced. “N-no.”

The voice was barely audible, even to him, so Pepito stepped closer, holding the microphone up, just below the criminal's neck. “What was that?”

“No. I won't do it! I would gladly lay down my life for the one and only true God!” The man's voice was worn and horse, and he had to pause to cough up blood before continuing. “You can take from me my mortal body, SATAN, but you shall never have my soul! I shall be before the throne of God while you shall perish in the pit! I shall-”

Pepito took the mic back, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe it down before speaking again himself, the other man's words lost without the audio aid. “Right, that's about enough of that.” He gave the man a real, malicious smile when laughter drifted from the lawn to fill the stage, reveling in the fact that the theological shoe was finally on the right, fitting, foot so to speak. “Shall we give him what he wants?”

Another litany of approving shouts and chants rose up, and he had to set the mic aside when several of his personal guards, in full dress uniform for the affair, waltzed onto the stage. They were each accompanied by their own lances, obvious mock-ups of Lance of Longinus, and one of them stepped forward to hand Pepito one was well.

He made the first jab into the man's chest, feeling a strange mix of triumph and self-degradation at killing someone that pathetic by hand. Stepping back, he merely watched as the guards did their job of making the man bleed pints of dark red down his legs and into a drain that had been built into the stage with just this sort of thing in mind. When the criminal was almost at his miserable end, he signaled his men to spin the wheel that the cross had been mounted to, turning the Christian symbol on it's head to deal the final blow.

The crowd went wild. They were suddenly singing Happy Birthday. Steamers were falling, balloons were sailing into the sky, champagne was poured and an enormous cake was presented, but Pepito's eyes never left the man on the cross. He found himself walking closer, almost automatically though no one seemed to notice, as the man let out one last breath, his head falling slack against the board to stare at Pepito with dead hazelnut eyes.

Trembling, Pepito's hand rose to wipe a blood-tainted tear from his own eye, a low whisper escaping him against his own volition, “No more light.”

He awoke with a start, his heart beating like he had just ran a marathon as he sat up in bed. Wiping sweat from his brow, he took in the master bedroom of his New York apartment just long enough to register his position in space and time before tossing the covers aside to make a run for the bathroom.

Emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet, Pepito was, as always, extremely disgusted by the act of throwing up. Maybe it was his demonic paternity, but he had hardly ever been sick as a kid, and could probably count the times that his body had forced him to regurgitate on one hand. He coughed a few times after, immediately going for the mouth wash and then his tooth brush. When he was finally satisfied with the taste in his mouth, he cupped his hands together, letting the cold water fill them up and splashing himself in the face.

Sighing deeply, he turned the knobs off, running a hand through his free mane of ebony hair as he glanced in the mirror. He released a gasp, accidentally pulling out a few hairs as his hand left his head so fast, when his reflection suddenly morphed into the face from his dream. The same words, “No more light”, replayed themselves in his mind as his best friend's pale and lifeless face faded away, and he realized that it was true. That light that he loved was gone...or would be...with Todd.

Backing away from the mirror, he leaned against the frame of the bathroom door. He had to get a hold of himself! He was the Antichrist! He was the leader of the world, and he would not be reduced to a sniveling little weakling by something as trivial as a nightmare...even one that he knew to be fueled by real life events. But it was ridiculous! Todd wasn't going to be the next Christ! And he wasn't going to end up like the man who had been executed at Central Park two days ago because Pepito wasn't going to let him.

He walked a few feet down the hall to Todd's bedroom door, but hesitated short of knocking. Todd hadn't said a word to him, or anyone else as far as he knew, since the event had taken place, despite the fact that Pepito had apologized ad nauseam for something that had come as a complete surprise to himself as well. It had been his first public execution, orchestrated by the coven under orders from his father. The idea was to incite the masses to rid themselves of any remaining unmarked themselves, which was probably a good idea if they didn't mind losing extra souls to the martyrdom that the crucified man had probably inspired.

Still, if he had known, he certainly wouldn't have wanted Todd to be there...to have seen that. He was starting to think that maybe he had made the wrong decision by going along with their plans this time, even with the pressure of being caught off guard in front of all those expecting people. Either way, it was too late now, and all he could do was try and manage the damage.


Two damp eyelids snapped back open when Todd heard the metallic click that meant that the lock to his room was no longer in place. Soft light leaked through a slowly expanding crack, dribbling onto the foot of his bed, and he jerked the covers over his head. Maybe Pepito would assume he was actually asleep and leave him be.

“Todd? Are you awake?” Pepito whispered just in case he was, drawing closer when he received no response. Carefully, he pulled the blankets from the Squee-shaped lump on the mattress, finding himself strangely comforted by the simple act of watching the other man's chest rise and fall.

Mentally cringing when the other took a seat on the bed, Todd clenched his eyes further shut, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to keep the act up for much longer. Pepito could see through it with only the slightest probing, even if pretending to be relaxed under the circumstances had been easy work.

Pepito raised a brow when Todd opened his eyes and sat up with a huff.

“What are you doing here, Pepito?”

“Oh, I, uh,” the half-demon stumbled over his words, not having expected the other to actually speak, “I needed to make sure you're okay.”

“I'm not. I'm not okay.” Todd looked down for a moment when his voice broke toward the end. He hadn't really planed on abandoning the silent treatment just yet, but it was amazing how lost and alone he had started to feel in the famous apartment building turned coven house since the public celebration of Pepito's birthday.

“I know. I'm sorry. Do you hate me?”

“...no. I'm just...really disappointed. I mean, I know you were always...always...”

“Evil?”

“Evil,” Todd smiled sadly as he considered the word, “You're own interpretation of it, but not mine. Not really.”

“And now?”

“Now...now I feel like...like you're not the same person anymore. I thought that I could help you, that maybe we could help each other, but now I don't know anymore. You're here with me, but you're still so far away. I-I tried...”

“Todd...please don't give up.”

Todd shook is head to dismiss the other's words before regaining enough composure to continue what he had been saying, “I tried so hard to stop loving you, but it wouldn't go away. I hate the things that you do, but somehow I still...I don't want to lose you.”

Pepito pulled him into a tight hug like he had secretly wanted to for the last two days.“You're not going to lose me, Amigo.”

“But I am, Pep. I am right now. And if I keep hanging on to who you're becoming...I'm going to lose me too.”

“You mean because of my policies? The camps and the androids?”

His head moved up and down against Pepito's shirt. “I tried to justify staying with you, being your friend, but...if I'm not doing anything to stop it, then it's my fault too, and I can't...I just can't live like this.”

“Okay, Todd, it's okay.” The half-demon's hand found the other's back to rub little, hopefully comforting, circles through his pajamas. He thought that it was ridiculous for Todd to fault himself on the matter, but correcting that line of thinking wouldn't work in his favor. “What if there was a way that you could do something about it? Or about one of them at least?”

“My soul?” Todd moved back a little, releasing his grip on Pepito, though he didn't bother to remove the arms that still held him. Morally, that offer was very much like the one from the Guard Station, and Pepito just didn't seem to get that. Or maybe he did. Maybe he knew that saying no would feel even worse than saying yes, and that was the point.

Pepito nodded, attempting to ignore the painful little spikes that the other man's eyes seemed to send right into his heart. He couldn't afford to back down now that he was so close. “Just think about it, Todd. If you really believe what you just told me, and that the greater good is more important than one person, then don't you owe it to yourself to do what you think is right?”

“Even if it's not what you think is right?”

“Yes. In this instance. I...I'm going to make a lot of people unhappy if we do this, my father included, but you...you mean a lot to me, and...” he paused to cup Todd's cheek with a hand that had previously rested on his shoulder, “I don't want to lose you either.”

Sighing when a tan thumb wiped a single tear from his face, Todd looked to the floor, wishing that he had the will to push the other away. He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly before speaking in a ragged tone. “What...what exactly are you offering?”

“Basically, it comes down to this: The next production line of androids is due to ship in three days. I am prepared to halt that, recall any units in stores and launch an investigation into your claims of them being self-aware. No new models will be offered until the problem is corrected, and if you want, you can help oversee that commission.”

“What about the androids that are already in service?”

“Those are private property, Amigo. When a recall is issued, the owners will have the option of returning their models for a refund, but we can't really force them. The Satanic Church has known since the Five Point Plan was drafted that the androids would effectively be a new slave race, so I don't exactly have a solid basis for this, and I'll have to word it very carefully.”

“What happens to them after the recall?”

“They'll be decommissioned, although...I suppose that isn't acceptable to you either, is it?”

“They're people, Pepito.” Todd took the hand on his face into his own, moving them both down to rest on his knee. He would have glared had he not felt so emotionally worn out.

“Well, what would you suggest?”

“Give them rights. Set them free.” It took a great deal of effort for him not to mention that the same sentiment should be applied to the unmarked humans as well.

“I...fine...if that's what it takes. But it will have to be slowly, over time. People aren't ready to accept that kind of change yet.” Pepito sighed. “You have two days to think it over so that I can stop the shipment in time. Alright?”

Todd's head jerked back up so that his eyes, which he was sure were full of unadulterated shock, could meet Pepito's once again. He had truthfully not expected the Antichrist to cave on something that big, and, if he was honest with himself, a part of him had hoped that he wouldn't. Then the issue would be settled yet again, and he wouldn't have to confront such a serious and confusing moral dilemma.

“Todd? Amigo? Alright?”

“Oh, al-alright. Two days?”

“Uh-hum.” The hand on Todd's back moved up to his shoulder, messaging gently where he was probably most tense. “Todd, hey, I didn't mean to stress you out or anything, but look at it this way, if you're really so unhappy: this is you best chance to make a difference in the world, right? If you say yes, then you'll have the knowledge that you did all you could to make it better and you won't have to feel bad about staying with me anymore.”

“Yeah.” Todd nodded unsurely, his hand unconsciously tightening its hold on the other's. “Can I? Still stay with you, I mean.”

“I'd like that very much.” After giving his friend an uneven smile that hopefully masked any of his own insecurities, Pepito took him into another, much tighter embrace. They stayed like that for a long while with the hug gradually loosening on both their parts to become more comfortable than desperate. Todd's head came to rest on his shoulder, and Pepito laughed softly against his ear when he noticed him playing with a long strand of his hair. “Did you get bored there, Amigo?”

“No. You never wear your hair down.”

“It's unprofessional...and kind of stringy.”

“Then why'd you grow it out?”

“Just got tried of getting it cut, I guess.”

Todd made a thoughtful noise. “I kind of like it.”

“Hah. Thanks.”

When Todd laid his head back down on his shoulder, Pepito was nearly certain that he was going to fall asleep like that. It was true that he had had plenty of time for sleep as he had been locked in his room for over twenty-four hours, but the dark circles under his eyes were a testament to the likelihood that the man had been sleeping no better than himself for the last two nights. A low rumbling from his stomach suggested that sleep wasn't all that he had been missing. “How long has it been since you've eaten?”

“Ummm...” Todd frowned when Pepito pulled away to look into his face.

“Since the party?”

“...yeah...” Actually, it had been before the party, which, under the circumstances, had probably been a good thing.

“Todd!”

“Sorry?”

“You can't just starve yourself every time you're mad at me! Fuck. It looks like you're going to have to stay with someone or you'll wither away and die.”

“Jesus Christ, Pepito.” Todd rolled his eyes, overly familiar with the way that Pepito tended to overreact when it came to what he had always considered Todd's neglect of his own health. Still, in a way the familiarity and very basic level of caring in was comforting, reassuring.

“Oh, don't bring him into this. And just so you know, I don't allow that forty-day fasting shit in my house.”

“It's been like a day and a half!”

“Yes, well, that's where it ends. Come on, I'm going to fix you something.”

He didn't bother resisting when Pepito latched onto his hand to drag him to the kitchen because when all was said and done, he was really pretty hungry, and the prospect of being alone with his thoughts right then wasn't an appealing one.