The Second Coming of Christa

Someone was keeping the lights low in this room, with an oil heater running to keep the winter draft away. The only decoration here was a garland of handmade snowflakes that hung over the stairs. Abbra lay in her antique bed, hands resting on the huge hump of her pregnant belly underneath a quilt.

Abbra was the oldest of Aunt Ann's daughters, almost old enough that she seemed more like another aunt than like another cousin. But she'd always looked small and doll-like, as if she might break from the world's rough handling.

Christa expected her to look the same now, but to her surprise Abbra appeared full and robust, hardly anything like her usual self. Christa had heard of pregnant women having a glow, but this was the first time she'd ever seen it. When she looked up from her prayer book her smile seemed almost to cut her face in two.

Uncle Sid (who was not really anyone's uncle, but had been a friend of the family for so long that he hardly anyone remembered that anymore) met them at the door. His voice sounded exactly the same in person as on the phone, the only person Christa had ever met who could do that. She wondered if it was a doctor's trick.

"She's doing excellently," he said when Andrew asked. "Her contractions are coming but she says she can hardly feel a thing. I think it will be a particularly easy birth."

"Wonderful," Andrew said.

"Contractions?" Christa said, too loud. "So she really is having it tonight?"

Uncle Sid peered over his glasses. "My girl, why ever did you doubt it? I've been clear about the due date this whole time: December 24. Not a day later."

Looking at her feet, Christa said. "I just assumed with how calm everyone was being that it wasn't really going to happen now."

"There's nothing not to be calm about," Uncle Sid said. "Your cousin has received an incredible gift, and soon our family—and the world—will have a very special gift too. In just a few hours, in fact."

"You're doing the delivery yourself," Andrew said (a statement rather than a question).

"Of course. I've handled all of her care. No outsiders would understand something like this."

Uncle Sid had gone to medical school before joining the church, a rare case of an outsider converting without having any family join before him. Mom said when they were younger some of the older folks hadn't trusted him, "But of course they're all dead now," she added, which always seemed like a joke but Christa could never quite figure out why it was funny.

"Can we talk to her?" Andrew said, stepping in more.

"She insists on it," Uncle Sid said, and led them in. This whole time Abbra had been mutttering a prayer:

"Nicht auf allen Vieren zu gehen: das ist das Gesetz. Sind wir nicht Menschen..."

But she broke off as she saw them approach. "Merry Christmas, Abbra," Andrew said.

"Oh my, you look lovely," she replied, beaming. "I forgot how grown up you are now."

"You look amazing too," Christa said, and meant it.

"I'm so happy you're here. I want as much of the family on hand as possible for our little miracle." And she patted her belly, turning her head to one side as if listening for something as she did.

"I've been praying for you every day and every night," Andrew said.

"That's so sweet of you. But there's no reason to pray for this baby; it's the answer to all of our prayers."

Biting her lip, Christa said, "Abbra, are you really—"

She was halfway through the sentence before she stopped herself. It wasn't Andrew's look of alarm or even the sharp expression of Uncle Sid that made her quit; rather, it was Abbra's own friendly, guileless expression that gave Christa pause.

So she bit her tongue and changed her wording. "What I mean is, can you tell me about, you know, the way it happened? I'm sorry if it's personal, but I'm just so curious..."

"It's not personal at all," Abbra said, sitting up more. "It was the most beautiful thing; it all happened to me in a dream. But as soon as I woke up I knew it was real. I woke Mother immediately, and she called Uncle Sid, and she said that they'd both gotten messages in their own dreams telling them what had happened."

Now that they were close, Christa imagined that the pinpoint illumination of the Christmas lights reflected in Abbra's big, dark eyes was coming from inside of her instead.

"And in the dream a voice told me everything that was going to happen: everything from this year and my pregnancy and everything else, all the way up until tonight, even all about what we're talking about right now. And it all happened just that way."

Abbra smoothed down some stray threads on the quilt. Christa leaned away a little bit, as if from a hot stove. "Your dream told you about tonight?"

"Oh yes. And about you too, Christa."

The idea made Christa want to shudder, but Abbra looked so poised and serene as she said it that she couldn't quite manage.

Ignoring the looks everyone else was still giving her, Christa said, "So in your dream you saw...Him? Our Lord?"

She nodded

"What...did he look like?".

"Like he was made of fire," Abbra said.

And then Uncle Sid told them, "She needs rest," and began prodding them toward the door.

"It's best to leave us undisturbed for the rest of the night," he added. "It might be dangerous for anyone to intervene once the hard labor begins."

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Andrew said.

"Abbra knows," Uncle Sid said. "But she hasn't said. She only tells us, 'It is everything that it is.'"

Back down the spiral stairs they went, Christa in the lead. "That was weird," she said, whispering.

Andrew actually looked hurt. "I thought it was beautiful. You didn't think it was beautiful?"

"I think we're surrounded by crazy people and always have been."

He shook his head again. "I guess I always assumed that when a real miracle finally happened even you'd see it."

"You call this a miracle?"

"Abbra does."

"I didn't ask about Abbra, I asked about—"

"Dinner," said Aunt Ann, and both Christa and Andrew jumped. She stood at the bottom of the stairs with wine glass in hand. How long she'd been listening neither could say.

Food in gleaming dishes stretched from one end of the long dining room table to another. It looked like Patty and Sharon really were good in the kitchen. The lamb appeared pink and delicate, threatening to bleed as soon as the knife touched it.

Andrew sat on one side of Mom and Christa sat next to him. She smiled at them both. Sharon, Patty, and Aunt Ann sat on the other side, looking like three copies of the same painting side by side by side.

Wine so red that it was nearly black rode high in Christa's glass, and Aunt Ann tapped a knife against her own goblet to get everyone's attention.

"Since Abbra and Uncle Sid are indisposed tonight, someone else will have to say grace." She peered around the table. "Any volunteers?"

Before Andrew could speak up—Christa even heard him breathe in to start forming the words—Sharon said, "I think Christa should do it."

"Seconded," said Patty, drinking her wine.

Every eye in the room shifted to her. Aunt Ann looked expectant; Mom looked hopeful; Andrew embarrassed for being too slow to spare her the attention.

Christa sat rigid, as if her chair were covered in spikes and she had to be careful not to touch any of them. "Maybe I should—" Andrew said.

"Of course," Christa said at the exact same time, already standing. She drank some of her wine for extra time to think. What were the words? How did it start?

Clearing her throat, she said, "And remember, let's everyone think of Abbra tonight particularly."

"What a sweet thought," Aunt Ann said. "Now go on, dear."

Here goes nothing, Christa thought.

"Please bow your heads," she said. Clearing her throat again, she began:

"In the name of Satan, the ruler of the earth, the god of this world, I declare that the forces of darkness now bestow their infernal favor on us. Open wide the gates of Hell and come forth from the abyss to greet us as your friends. We live as the beasts of the field, rejoicing in the fleshly life..."

And that was as much as she could remember. Up ahead in her memory a big, blank spot loomed, and as her tongue tripped over the last few words she felt that she was about to fall into it...

But Andrew was already saying each word to himself, so low only she could hear right next to him; the shapes of his lips forming the phrases was enough to jar her memory sentence to sentence:

"Calling to mind the seekers after joy who have perished at the hands of unnatural and perfidious virtue, we desire dominion over the teeming lands, the darkened sky, and the watery sea. You are a tower of strength, and we proclaim you Lord unto all ages.

"My eyes are great pinnacles that view the scattered multitudes of fools who grope for things celestial, bowing and scraping to wan and sallow gods, forsaking life while creeping to their graves, suffocating like Peter's fish pulled from the lake of life's sweet waters to perish in Heaven's foul vapors.

"I am the tempter of life that lurks in every breast and belly, a vibrant, torpid cavern, nectar laden, with sweetest pleasures beckoning. I am rampant carnal joy, borne of ecstasy's mad flailing. My body is a temple where all demons dwell.

"In the name of the Lord of Sodom, the God of Cain, the Prince of the Air, I declare: Flesh without sin, world without end. Amen."

"Amen," said the family, and Christa sat down, relieved. When no one else was watching she mouthed to Kevin, "Thank you."

The lamb was tender and almost raw. Christa took one bite and rolled her eyes in ecstasy. Back at college Terry was a vegan and was always trying to convince Christa to at least go vegetarian, but she always said, "Sorry, I can't. It's a religious thing."

The cousins had mixed some of the lamb's blood into the wine decanter, and the stinging copper taste of it lit up her sense after one glass.

At first everyone just talked about Abbra, and then about Christmas, and then about Sharon and Patty's cooking, and finally about how well Andrew was doing assisting Uncle Sid in family business.

Wiping blood off of her chin with the corner of a napkin, Aunt Ann said, "And how are fitting in at that school, Christa?"

Refilling her wine even though the glass was barely half empty, Christa said, "Fine. I'm not really thinking about a major yet. Still the first semester. I'm meeting lots of people. My roommate is nice. I mean, she's a vegan, but still."

"Bring her for dinner at Easter," Patty said. "We'll cook her."

"That's not funny," said Mom.

"We'll use a vegan recipe," Sharon added.

"I guess it's a good school," Aunt Ann said. "But I'm surprised you're staying. I would have thought one semester would be enough to learn your lesson."

"Ann, we talked about this," Mom said. "Christa is a grown woman and she gets to make her own decisions." Christa blinked, surprised.

"I'm not saying she doesn't," Aunt Ann contiued. "I'm just showing a little concern for the wellbeing of my young niece's soul. Being around so many outsider can confuse you when you're young. You used to think that sort of thing was important."

"Of course it's important, but there's no reason to think that there's anything to worry about," Mom said. And then she added, "Is there?"

It took Christa a second to realize the question was directed at her. "Of course not. I mean, yeah, school is all full of normal—full of outsiders. But it's no biggie. Do we have to talk about this now?"

"Yeah, come on, the holidays are no time to talk about religion," Andrew said, trying to play it off for laughs. But Aunt Ann stopped him with one look.

"Abbra is upstairs right now giving birth to Our Lord's worldly heir," Aunt Ann said. "I just want to make sure that everyone's soul is prepared for what that means."

"That he shall come up from Hell and beget a child of mortal woman. And he shall overthrow the mighty and lay waste their temples to redeem the despised and wreak vengeance in the name of the burned and the tortured."

Patty, Sharon, and even Andrew recited the lines in unison. Christa was busy taking another drink of wine.

"Christa couldn't stop talking about it in the drive up," Andrew added.

"Is that so?" Aunt Ann said, peering over her glass. Christa nodded several times.

"I could tell it was almost the only thing on her mind," Andrew added.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," said Aunt Ann. "Does anyone want seconds? Or is it time for the Rite of Flesh?"

Sharon and Patty stood up almost immediately. A little more slowly, Andrew joined them. Only Mom stayed seated, shaking her head slightly. "I should stay here, in case Abbra needs somebody."

"Sid is taking care of everything," Aunt Ann said, but Mom wouldn't be budged. Aunt Ann just shrugged; only a few people were needed for the Rite of Flesh.

So she led the younger members of the family in a row down the hall to the room at the back of the house behind the red door, which she unlocked with a key older than the house itself.

Again, Sharon and Patty were the most eager to get inside after her, and they nearly dragged Andrew in with them. Christa fell a few steps behind everyone else and paused outside the entryway, doubtful for a moment. Aunt Ann looked at her expectantly, but it wasn't until Andrew looked over his shoulder to see if she was following that she actually took the last step.

The room was high-ceilinged, dark, narrow. As Aunt Ann lit the candles on the altar one by one they revealed first the statue of Our Lord, gleaming in gold, nearby, then the cloth that hung from the altar down to the floor, dyed so dark it was almost black with blood from a hundred hundred rites before it, passed down from one generation of family to the next—or so Aunt Ann always said anyway.

And also they showed the family relics, glass cases and vases with the bones of family members who had performed the rites on nights like this generations ago, empty eye sockets staring out in mute witness from skulls behind glass. The one nearest the door was Dad, Christa knew, and she paused to kiss two of her fingertips and then touch the urn.

When the room was lit and the smell of incense wafted from the brazier—henbane, datura, dried nightshade, and myrrh—Aunt Ann turned to address them. Andrew, Patty, and Sharon stood in a line in front of the altar, inhaling the scents, Christa a little ways behind them.

"Today they call this night Christmas Eve," Aunt Ann said. "In the past they've called it other things: Yuletide, Saturnalia, Juul. But we know it's true name: The Rite of Flesh. The only rite."

"The Rite of Flesh. The only rite," everyone repeated—even Christa.

"We are Babylon the Great, Scarlet One, come to grind the righteous beneath our heel and drink the fornications of all the world," Aunt Ann recited.

"The flesh prevails. Blessings on our bodies, our blood, and the wombs that made us," everyone repeated back.

And then, nodding, Aunt Ann began to undress. Patty and Sharon turned and almost in unison helped pull Andrew's shirt off of him. Before Christa could take a step forward, both of them had pulled him down to the floor, where they spread him out on the soft cushions there, Sharon climbing on top of him and running her hands over his naked chest while Patty crouched nearby and leaned over to give him long, hungry kisses.

Burning inside, Christa watched as her cousins undressed each other in front of Andrew, then guided his hands across the expanses of their exposed flesh. Both of them let loose long, almost exaggerated sighs of affection and lolled their heads so that their long hair brushed their bare shoulders as his fingers moved across their bare thighs, cupped their bottoms, traced the way up their bare arms, and softly fondled their naked breasts, all while both of them took turns giving increasingly extended kisses, sometimes all but pushing the other out of the way when they felt their turn had been waiting too long.

Sharon lay on one side of him and pulled his face down to suck her breasts, sighing again. The heavy smoke of incense filled the room and everybody's heads, until it seemed to Christa that she was watching everything happen through a gauzy curtain.

Lying on the other side, Patty unbuckled Andrew's pants and pulled them down, then indulged by squeezing a double handful of his ass. He responded by grinding himself against both of them, first one and then the other.

Christa caught a glimpse of his swollen, rigid cock as Patty reached around for it, putting her hands between his body and her sister's. His satisfied moan sounded muffled as he continued to press his face into Sharon's lithe, eager body.

Flushed with jealousy but unable to look away, Christa almost jumped when Aunt Ann put a hand on her shoulder. The older woman had gotten very close to Christa in the near-dark of the ritual chamber, and now they stood almost touching.

"They look good, don't they?" Aunt Ann said. Christa glared at her, but to her surprise Aunt Ann gave her an affectionate look in return. "It's best when family comes together. Especially during holidays."

Slowly, one bit at a time, Aunt Ann began to undress Christa, who neither helped nor hindered. She stood frozen in place, watching as first one of her cousins and then the other slithered down the length of Andrew's fine body and took his hard, proud cock into her mouth. Meanwhile the other spread her legs and invited him in to press his mouth against her cunt, which gleamed with wetness in the candlelight.

Her aunt's thin, strong fingers exposed Christa. She felt the eyes of the room—the empty sockets of the skulls in the reliquaries and the hard, gleaming golden eyes of the idol on the altar—peering over every inch of her, but she still didn't react. The sound of Andrew, Sharon, and Patty's bodies moving against each other mingled with their moans.

Both fully nude, Aunt Ann stood to face Christa, looking like a black shadow silhouetted against the candlelight. She put a hand to Christa's cheek and stroked it.

"Poor Christabella. When will you come home to be with the rest of us?"

"I'm here now," Christa said. She hadn't said anything in some time, and the force of speaking again almost hurt her throat. "I'm always here: for family, for the holidays, for the rite. Abbra's your favorite but even she never does this part."

"Abbra is a special case," Aunt Ann said. "You are too, in your way. But I wonder if you ever know it."

She stroked Christa's hair, softly, the way she had years ago. On the other side of the room, Sharon lay on her back underneath Andrew, legs spread wide as he moved on top of her. Her eyes rolled back and her face knit in a mask of perfect ecstasy while she writhed underneath him; Patty lay next to her, impatiently waiting, passing the time by kissing her sister's neck and shoulder with linger, open lips.

"Why feel jealous?" Aunt Ann said.

"Envy is a sin," Christa replied. Aunt Ann actually laughed.

"But you can only envy what you don't have. He's your brother; your twin. He always will be. Nobody can ever rob you of that."

"They would if they could," Christa replied.

"But they can't," said Aunt Ann.

And then she kissed Christa sweetly on the mouth, the taste of blood and wine still sharp on her tongue as it slid in. Rigid for an instant, Christa felt herself go loose one bit at a time until finally, slowly, she leaned into the kiss herself, letting the silken warmth of it travel all the way down her body.

Aunt Ann's figure blocked out the view of Andrew and the cousins as she stood in front of Christa, then laid her down, trailing kisses down Christa's throat and then across the sensitive skin of her collar bones. In spite of herself, Christa felt a small, contented sigh slip out.