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Chapter 4
Angelus hadn't been able to sleep; not that it mattered much, since she still had remnant Angel energy coursing through her body. But the cat had nearly suffocated her when it flopped down onto her chest in the dead of night - not to mention almost frightening her to death, if that were possible - and so she'd gotten up, snuggled on the couch under a blanket and watched midnight TV until she'd quietly fallen asleep. The cat had joined her, curled around her legs and snoring softly.
So when she woke the next morning, with a crick in her neck and cat drool all over her feet, she wasn't happy. She was even more miserable when she got to her kitchen cupboard and discovered that all her boxes of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes and Frosties had been mysteriously replaced with muesli.
Sometimes, she hated being under the influence of the Higher Powers.
What had started out being a pretty bad day rapidly went downhill. Her date had rung to cancel, and hadn't seemed interested in rescheduling. All her chocolate bars had disappeared, the cat had been sick in the corner and she seemed to have lost her ability to transport herself to places, like any normal angel. Damn being human. She'd had to take the crowded and extremely unsanitary commuter train to her interviews.
To top it all, two of the five Guardian Angels she was due to see had been unavailable and the other three had been useless. No insights, no evidence, nothing.
Then the train home had broken down, and they'd all been forced to hang around for an hour whilst a replacement one chugged its way along the track to rescue them. To say she was fuming was putting it mildly. Hot and sweaty, she was crammed into the train carriage between an overweight woman wearing industrial strength perfume and a youth with a mobile phone stuck to his ear. The business man opposite spent what seemed like most of the journey with his finger stuck up his nose. When he alternated his nose with his ear, she snapped.
"Why don't you stand up and pull your pants down?" she shrieked, "That way, you'd be able to stick your finger up your arse, and scour out every bloody orifice!"
At least he had the good grace to blush. That thought gave her a small amount of comfort as she was thrown off the train for brawling at the next station.
Furious, she stalked out of the station and stomped down the road, squaring her shoulders for the five mile walk home and cursing the Powers That Be for taking her transportation abilities away.
She was so preoccupied that she didn't notice the smartly dressed man who joined her as she cut across the small village park. Politely, he asked, "Excuse me, do you have the time? I forgot to put my watch on this morning." He gave her an utterly charming smile..
"I'm sorry, I don't wear one," she replied shortly, quickening her pace.
He matched it. "Do you have any money? Jewellery? Do you have a mobile phone?"
"Excuse me? Piss off." Angelus was in no mood to be messed around by a creep in a park.
"Listen honey, in case you don't get it, this is a robbery." He grabbed her roughly and swung her to the ground. Startled, she went with the motion, and ended up stretched out on the slightly damp grass with him going through her pockets. His hard slap to her face stunned her for a moment, and he quickly adjusted his position so that his weight pinned her to the ground. Her mobile phone was seized, and her loose change was grabbed before she could even blink. Dazed, she looked up at him.
"You're not wearing any jewellery," he observed. "At least, none that I can see." He grinned, then pulled out a knife. "You must have something else... like a... a credit card or something hidden somewhere?"
"Get the fuck off me!" She started shouting and struggling, but his weight pinned her securely beneath him.
She could feel his hands sliding all over her, grabbing and prodding as he searched her. Finding nothing, he shouted in frustration and banged her head against the floor before bringing the knife to her throat. "Where's the money, you bitch?" he screamed, right in her face.
She snapped.
Her hands jerked up; she grabbed his head and howled as raging black and red swirls filled her vision. His brown eyes stared into her burning gold irises, his body convulsed violently and he screamed in shock and pain before slumping on top of her.
"You filthy bastard!" She rolled him off, picked him up by the neck and toe-slammed him onto the ground - it was a move she'd picked up from watching WWF wrestling.
It was a fancy move, but immaterial anyway. He was already dying.
Still raging, she beat his chest with balled up fists; his heavy woollen jacket began to glow orange-red where her palms touched. He jumped around, his twitching body flattening the grass he was lying on, and flecks of blood started spattering the fallen, autumn leaves. With an angry cry, she collapsed to her knees as her energy and her panic started to dissipate.
The unaccustomed feel of sweat drying on her flesh brought her back to herself.
She stared at the lifeless figure in stunned silence for several moments, before she snapped back into herself. "Oh my God. I've killed him." She crawled over to where he lay, and patted his cheeks. "Come on, come on... don't die. Please don't die on me..." She lay her palm over his chest, and closed her eyes, feeling the faintest pulse of life remaining. "Thank God, c'mon, stay with me..." She started crying as she tried to will some life back into him. Frantically, she glanced around for the celestial presence she knew would be there, somewhere. "Hey! I could use some help here! Show yourself!"
Silence greeted her, save for her own panicked breathing.
"I know you're there. Get your goddam butt out here now! I need some help! Anyone?"
An elderly Guardian Angel stepped forward cautiously. "Who are you?" the angel asked.
Angelus backed away. "Never mind about me - see what you can do for him."
"Are you an Angel of Death?" The old angel bent over the prone body of his client. Angelus just shook her head. "He's not supposed to die yet," he said accusingly, shooting an incredulous look at the agitated young woman.
"Just look after him like you're supposed to!" she snapped, furious and desperate.
He checked his assignment for signs of life. "There's nothing I can do for him. He's already gone." The Guardian Angel approached Angelus slowly, suspiciously. "You can see me, so you're obviously not human. What are you?"
"Stay away from me," Angelus warned.
"Not until I get some answers," shot back the angel.
"You won't get any. Stay back."
"Not a chance. You killed my Joseph, and it wasn't his time. I want to know what's going on."
"Take my advice, angel," said Angelus coldly as she moved towards him, "You don't want to know. You never met me, you never saw this. Trust me, it's easier this way." She reached out her arm, placed her palm over his forehead and wiped his memory. "Your Joseph died of a heart attack, like he was supposed to. Got me?" The Guardian Angel nodded. "I'm just his Angel of Death, come to take him home. Understand?" He nodded again. "Good. Now, get out of here."
There was a slight shimmer, and once again she was alone in the park, save for the remains of the man who had attacked her. She reached down into his chest, took out his soul and put it in her pocket before retrieving her stolen property.
"WHAT HAPPENED?"
"Leave me alone. You're too late," she shot back, angrily.
"IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT."
"How would you know? You weren't even here."
"I AM EVERYWHERE."
"Yeah? You're never there when I need you. You telling me this was all part of your 'plan'?" She spat the word out, bitterly.
"NOT EVERYTHING GOES TO PLAN, AS YOU WELL KNOW ANGELUS. THIS WAS AN UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT. HUMAN FREE WILL DOES SOMETIMES GET IN THE WAY OF A GOOD PLAN."
"Like I was an accident, you mean? I'm not part of your plan. I'm just an unfortunate accident that you somehow created, and now you're stuck with me. Well, you know what? I can't take this anymore!" She started crying.
"YOU KNOW THAT'S NOT TRUE."
"You're telling me I have a purpose? Tell me what it is. Tell me this isn't who I really am! Because I just can't do this anymore... don't you understand? For thousands of years now, nothing but death in my life."
"SO WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
She sank to the ground, next to the body of Joseph Cattrell. "I want to be able to wake up in the morning and smell the rain on the grass, and go to work, and do the shopping, and see my boyfriend. I want to be able to laugh with my friends, and cry at soppy movies, and get angry when I watch the news without knowing that half the time, I AM the news. I want to be able to sleep at night without five thousand years of nightmares, and I want to know that if I touch someone in anger, or love, or with any emotion at all that they're not going to die from my touch!"
"I CANNOT UNMAKE YOU. YOU ARE WHAT YOU ARE, FOR BETTER AND WORSE."
"I want to be better."
"YOU ARE ALL THAT YOU SHOULD BE..."
"I don't want to be me anymore! Please..." she sobbed.
"OH, ANGELUS." She felt the gentle stroking of hands that did not exist on her head, comforting her, trying to soothe her pain away. "YOU ARE SO VERY SPECIAL TO ME. I WISH YOU COULD SEE THAT. YOU ARE UNIQUE, AND I WOULD NOT HAVE YOU ANY OTHER WAY. I'M SORRY THAT YOU HAVE TO CARRY THIS BURDEN, BUT I CANNOT TAKE IT AWAY. IT'S YOURS TO CARRY, AND ALTHOUGH YOU DON'T RECOGNISE IT, IT MAKES YOU THE WONDERFUL SPIRIT THAT YOU ARE." A soft kiss pressed itself first to her brow, and then to her lips. "I'LL GIVE YOU ALL OF YOUR ANGEL POWERS BACK. AND I CAN GIVE YOU A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP, FOR TONIGHT AT LEAST."
"Thank you," she mumbled, growing drowsy even as she felt herself being lifted by all-powerful arms and spirited home and into her bed. "Will you give me all my chocolate back too?"
She fell asleep, with a God by her bedside and tears drying on her lashes.
****
The young man glanced around briefly before he descended the stairs to his basement apartment. Turning the key in the door quickly, he ducked into the dingy little flat and drew the bolt behind him. Not that it would do much good if they found him, but in some way the gesture felt reassuring.
The flat looked as though it was unlived in, even though he'd been coming here for years now. What better place to hide out than a broken down old squat; what self respecting angel would ever submit themselves to those sorts of standards? The cobwebs, cracked windows and leaky pipes further served his purpose, and the Bruxelles prostitutes in the upstairs flats didn't mind as long as he kept his nose out of their affairs.
Little did they know that one of their former number was one of his affairs.
She had started it off, really. He'd been sent to fetch her home and in the end, he just couldn't do it. He was due for reassignment any day and he'd already had enough. So he'd saved her from her client and then faded into the background to watch her spend the next few weeks jacking up during the day, getting busy during the night and spending any time in between getting mugged, raped, beaten and inviting death in any way she could.
In the meantime, she'd been put back into the system for death date allocation and he'd been reprimanded, reassigned to Accounts and had his badge taken away. They hadn't taken his ability, though - the ability uniquely that of an Angel of Death. He could still take a human life.
In the end, it was the begging that had gotten to him the most. In her increasingly rare moments of lucidity, crippling self awareness had destroyed her more surely than any drug had, and she'd cried and begged for release from her torment. He had freed her soul and taken her home.
His home. The derelict basement from where he'd watched her.
He falsified her records so nobody would know that she was missing, and he'd been surprised at how easy it had been. He did his shift during the days, and at night he talked to her, wishing she could talk back. In the end, he had started talking for her. He heard her say how grateful she'd been to him for freeing her from that life of suffering; he told her of his mindless, boring work now - logging in souls, keeping inventory, filing... and he heard her tell him how beneath him that was. How could he use his special gifts, she asked, stuck in an office all day?
After all, wasn't an Angel of Death supposed to stop the suffering of mortals? Like he'd stopped her suffering?
At first, it had been easy enough. He had access to records, so he could choose who he helped and then falsify their details to cover his tracks. But his supervisors had started to get suspicious and the risk had grown too great. They'd started remarking on his increasingly odd behaviour - talking to himself, they claimed... didn't they know he was talking to her? His increasingly frequent outbursts of rage, his lecturing of the Angels of Death who handed their souls to him for recording; it all drew attention and his work came under scrutiny. They offered him counselling, which he took. They offered him reassignment, which he declined. They offered him leave, which he agreed to, and he'd spent three glorious years alone with his Nathalie.
With a clean bill of health at the end of his 'leave', thanks to his counsellor, he had been cleared for duty and was back at work.
He'd picked up where he'd left off.
He bent down and dragged out a heavy, brass bound chest from underneath a rickety table in his kitchen. Heaving it up onto the table top, he loosed the padlock and opened the lid; the room was suddenly bathed in a delicately flickering rainbow of colours which emanated from the souls who were trapped in there. He drew Peder Anderssen's essence from his pocket, and placed it carefully in the casket.
"Nathalie, ma chère, my sweet soul, I've brought you another playmate. This is Peder. He'd had enough of the struggle, just like you." He gently touched Peder's vibrantly colourful sphere. "I've freed you from the burden of mortal existence Peder, but more than that - I've freed you from having to go through it over and over again. You'll exist for all eternity now as pure spiritual essence. Beats that reincarnation crap hands down, I can tell you."
The pink and orange soul of Nathalie pulsed slightly as he lifted it out of its prison. He held her to his ear for a moment, then smiled eagerly at her.
"Thank you, mon esprit," he said to the weakly glowing essence. "I knew you would welcome another sheep to the fold." Her luminescence dulled slightly, and he could feel a slight coldness creep into his palm from where she was touching it. "What's the matter, Nathalie? Tu est malade?" He stroked her with his forefinger, and she gave off a burst of energy which ran through his finger like a bolt of electricity. He almost dropped her.
"I'm doing this for you, Nathalie! Just like you wanted!"
He packed her away, and put the trunk back under the table.
****
Angelus woke slowly, reluctantly. Her eyes felt raw, heavy and her throat felt thick. Dazed, she sat up in her bed and blinked as the first rays of the weak autumn sun hit her. In total confusion, she glanced around her bedroom, trying to shake clear her sleep-fogged mind, not understanding why she should feel so physically drained.
With a sudden surge, it hit her.
She cried again, softly and quietly for a little while. Calming down eventually, she dragged herself out of bed, went into the bathroom and splashed cold water onto her face. She gasped with the sharp shock of the icy water against her flushed cheeks, and then gasped again when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Pale and hollow-cheeked, with black smudges under her red rimmed eyes, she looked a fright.
"I look as bad as I feel," she sniffled. "Didn't realise a human face could fall apart so quickly. This crying business isn't all it's cracked up to be..."
She shuffled her way downstairs. There, sitting in splendid isolation on the worktop, was a single Mars bar. It had a note stuck to it. 'YOU LOOK LIKE YOU COULD USE THIS.'
She smiled wryly as she unwrapped it. "Always thinking of me..." She shoved it into her mouth with a forlorn pleasure as she went about preparing her breakfast. The cat, which appeared to have moved in, slid around her ankles, mewing loudly and insistently until she plonked a dish of food down for him.
There was a 'thunk' as her morning newspaper landed heavily on the mat. Chewing on a slice of toast, she picked it up and settled onto the sofa to read it. The headline blazed out at her;
'SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN! ANOTHER SOUL TAKEN!!'
"This isn't the real paper, is it?"
She turned the page, and read, 'NO, IT'S JUST ANOTHER HANDY MEANS OF COMMUNICATION. ARE YOU ALRIGHT?'
"I have been better. But I am used to this, after all. I'm sorry about yesterday - I over-reacted..."
'IT'S ALRIGHT. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE STRONG ALL THE TIME, YOU KNOW. SOMETIMES IT'S GOOD FOR THE SOUL TO BE SOFT.'
"Maybe, but it doesn't change things, does it?" She sighed faintly. "So, what's this about another soul going?"
'LAST NIGHT. HIS DETAILS ARE ON THE CENTREFOLD. HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL WILL BE SHOWING UP AT YOUR PLACE IN AN HOUR FOR YOU TO INTERVIEW HIM. I DON'T KNOW IF HE WILL BE OF ANY MORE USE THAN THE OTHERS YOU SAW YESTERDAY.'
"Okay, thank you."
'IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU NEED, ANGELUS?'
"Not unless you wanna make it go away?" She smiled wryly, before picking up her mug of tea.
'I CAN'T. THE PAIN IS YOURS TO BEAR, AS IS THE MEMORY. YOU MUST LEARN TO CARRY THE WEIGHT, AND ACCEPT WHO YOU ARE.'
"I'm not sure I can." She cradled the hot mug next to her chest, taking some small comfort as its warmth crept through her. There was a short pause before words formed on the paper.
'WHAT OTHER CHOICE DO YOU HAVE?'
"None." She refolded the paper carefully along its creases.
****
Chapter 5
Saul was on his own. He leaned against the damp brick wall and watched from across the street as his assignment entered the supermarket, awkwardly steering a cart with her broken arm.
He'd pulled himself together and put up a good show for Azrael, with the results that he was off close supervision but still on weekly assessment. She still swooped down on him occasionally for spot checks, but they were growing less frequent, much to his relief.
He'd taken to dropping in at the office, hanging around the clerks and reading up on his assignments. At first they'd been a little wary - Angels of Death didn't usually show such an interest in their clients, but they soon got used to him and as they'd learned about his situation, they'd come to accept his 'homework'.
He'd also taken to visiting his assignments, dropping in on them as they went about their business. Like he was now. He checked his watch - she'd been in the supermarket for ten minutes, and he knew that she would take no longer than half an hour. Her husband wouldn't allow it.
His research had been useful; in learning about these humans and their lives, he had hoped somehow to distance himself from them - learn to put up a shield, as Azrael had all those millennia ago. So he watched them like a scientist observing labrats, learning their behaviour, their stimulus, their responses, their motivations.
To his surprise, he'd found them to be a fascinating study. In some cases he'd come to realise that, although the manner of their end was extreme, their deaths were a relief. That's what he told himself, anyway.
Besides, he had no choice really. It was either knuckle down and get on with it, or drop out.
****"Would you like some tea?" Angelus waved the guardian angel to a seat at the kitchen table, and pulled the kettle off its stand.
The angel stared back at her, blankly. "Tea?" She jiggled the kettle in explanation.
"You drink?" the bemused angel asked.
"Umm... .no..." Angelus smiled weakly, and put the jug back on its stand. "Sorry, I guess I'm used to humans."
"You mix with humans?" The angel's voice rose in surprise. "I thought you were an angel?"
"Oh, I am," she reassured him, then quickly changed the subject. "So, Simeon... tell me again about yesterday."
"You've read my report. I don't have anything to add to it."
"You checked in at 8am and he was fine, right?" Simeon nodded his response. "And you stayed with him through the doctor's visit, and then until 2pm, when he had his attack?"
"Yes, his family came in to visit him at lunchtime and that's always a stressful time. I wanted to make sure I was there, in case he needed me." He gave a short, hiccoughing laugh. "Some guardian angel I am, huh? I wasn't there when he did need me."
"You did your job. None of this is your fault."
"I can't help blaming myself," the guardian angel sniffed, and then shrugged. "So what happens next?"
"I guess you'll be debriefed, and then reassigned."
"No, I meant with Peder. Where is he?"
Angelus paused for a moment. "I'm still trying to find out."
Simeon nodded, his face a picture of grief and confusion. "I just don't understand what happened. I mean, how could anyone take his soul? People don't die before their time."
Angelus shrugged in sympathy. "Are you sure it wasn't his case worker?" Simeon asked.
"Who?" mumbled Angelus absently, flicking through Simeon's report.
"I assume you checked with them? I'm not sure what department he was from."
"What?" Suddenly, her attention was fixed on him.
He sighed, and spoke slowly. "His case worker. He came by a few days ago, asking questions about Peder. Some sort of medical study he said. It was quite a surprise - I hadn't been informed that he was..."
"What case worker?" She rifled through Peder's file quickly, already knowing that she hadn't overlooked anything. "Peder didn't have a case worker."
"Sure he did. I spoke to him myself. He didn't really say much, but he looked like an Angel of Death, all dressed in black. You know those guys - all mystery and silence, like they're better than the rest of us. I just figured it was some new top secret research or something."
Angelus felt her heart pumping in her chest. She grabbed a pen, and pulled her notebook towards her. "Tell me about him - tell me everything..."
****
Saul had followed his assignment home, and watched her struggle to unlock the heavy front door and carry full shopping bags into her kitchen. He had stood by silently as she had unpacked the shopping, started cooking dinner, and received a black eye from her husband.
He had left her for a few hours in order to complete his due assignment, but had come back once he had delivered the soul and completed all the necessary paperwork.
He got back just in time to witness another rape, and another beating.
At first, it had shocked him to see what these humans could do in the name of love, or at least what passed for love. Her husband told her that he loved her, and that it hurt him more than it hurt her to have to do these things, but that it was for her own good. Saul didn't understand this type of love, and he'd decided he needed to research it more. So he dropped by most days when he could, knowing that he would be taking her soon anyway. The beating she would get today would lay the groundwork for her death in five days time.
He wished he could be taking the husband instead. But he wasn't due to be collected for another fifteen years - once the criminal justice system had served its course, and the electric chair had finished with him. Saul had already vowed to be there when it did.
He was staring out of the window and listening to the sounds of 'human love' behind him, when he was startled by a slight movement to his left. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room, and was surprised to see the faintest trace of an outline in the shadows. He pressed himself further against the wall, and remained silent.
It was an angel. Tall and slim, with a pale and lined face, he was dressed in black from head to toe. Saul narrowed his eyes as he watched the newcomer edge out of the shadows and approach the prone woman, who now lay slumped on the sofa where her husband had left her.
"What...?" he muttered softly, as the strange angel took the woman's hand in a gesture of comfort. When he saw his hand reach for her chest, he hurriedly stepped away from his own hiding place. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
The angel dropped the hand as if it were a live coal. He whirled around, his mouth gaping as he saw Saul. He rose, and backed away slowly.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Saul moved closer, putting himself between the angel and the unconscious woman.
"I just..." the angel stammered, stuffing his hands in his pocket. "I'm a case worker..." he added, hastily.
"She's not on any case work lists. I've read her file."
The angel screwed his hands deeper into his pockets. "This has nothing to do with you..."
His outline began to waver; Saul leapt the slight distance between them and seized his arm before he could disappear. "Oh no you don't! You aren't going anywhere until I get some answers - now, who are you?"
"Get off me!" The stranger struggled to release his arm, but Saul grabbed on tighter. "You can't stop me!" he shot at Saul, his cheeks a furious and desperate red. "She needs me!"
"Needs you? What can you do for her? She's due to die next week. What she needs is for someone to take her husband, and give her peace, even if it's just for a little while."
"Peace - exactly! That's what I'm here for." The angel's eyes lit up, even as he continued to struggle. He was surprisingly strong.
"I'm the one who'll be giving her peace, next Wednesday at 14.56pm," Saul shot back.
"No, that's too late - she needs it now! You said so yourself! Look at her..." He dragged Saul over to the sofa. "You've seen her... you've been watching her, haven't you?" His eyes glowed as he registered Saul's guilty expression. "I knew it! Angels of Death don't usually show up early..."
"Shut up!" Saul yanked his arm away.
The angel's eyes narrowed as he saw Saul's reaction, and he gave a small, almost triumphant, smile. "You feel for her, don't you?"
"Of course not! She's just another soul to be harvested. I'm doing my job, that's all."
"Yes, your job..." The angel nodded, beaming at Saul and patting his arm. Saul pulled away, feeling uneasy. "Look at her suffering; it's carved onto her face. Look at what she's been through already. Can you stand by, and watch her as she takes a week to die?"
Saul stared at the marble face of the unconscious woman. A thin thread of blood was trickling down her alabaster chin. His eyes moved lower, down her throat and over her hitching breasts and on to her abdomen where her hands subconsciously clutched at her damaged liver. He tried to close his ears to the sounds of her laboured breathing and the small whimpers she was making. He couldn't; the noise echoed in his head, blocking out all other sound.
The other angel smiled again.
"We're Angels. What other choice do we have?" Saul rapped. "I can't take her early."
The stranger stared at him for several long moments, almost calculatingly. "No-one's asking you to," was the calm answer. Saul gazed at him in confusion. "You love her, that is obvious. I understand how you feel, believe me I do..."
Saul shook his head. "No, you're wrong - I don't..."
"I know, you have to deny it. Like it's some sort of dirty secret." He patted Saul's shoulder, sympathetically. "It's the best feeling in the world, isn't it? I don't know why they forbid us to love. They say it stops us from doing what we have to, but it's not true - I have saved so many souls because of my love..." He grasped Saul's arm fervently.
"What do you mean, you've saved souls?" Saul asked, trying to yank his arm out of the clutches of the ranting being in front of him. The stranger cupped Saul's cheek with a bony hand; the contact with his cold skin sent shudders through Saul's whole body and he whipped his head away. The angel simply smiled, and moved towards the motionless figure on the couch.
"She'll be fine with me." He placed his palm on the woman's chest, and turned a bright-eyed gaze at Saul. He raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for him to leave.
"You're crazy - get your hands off her!" He launched himself at the angel, grabbed the outstretched arm and tried to wrap his arms around the stranger so he could transport them both to his Head Office. But the thin angel was surprisingly strong and agile. To his astonishment, Saul found himself pinned to the ground by a dead weight sitting on his chest and holding his arms.
"You stupid boy," screamed the gaunt faced angel, "You're only hurting her by fighting me! Is that what you want?"
"Show me your papers, and I'll let you take her," Saul spat back at the furious face suspended over him. "You can't, can you? You haven't got any..." He managed to free a leg, and brought his knee up, knocking the angel off balance long enough to land a strong punch to his face. Both angels struggled to their feet, panting heavily and glaring at each other. Saul gasped in shock as his opponent's fist contacted with his jaw, twice.
"I'll report you!" rasped the stranger. "Who's your boss? Obstructing me in the course of my duties! This'll go on your record!"
"You bastard!" Saul swore, one of the few times in his long life he had ever blasphemed. His hands fastened around the thin neck of the male in front of him, and he squeezed tightly.
The man started to wheeze and choke slightly, as his hands circled Saul's own throat. "You can't kill me... I'm an angel!" Saul's fingers tightened. "Nobody can kill angels!" He brought his knee up forcefully; Saul's eyes watered and he yelled out as the pain ripped through his testicles.
It was an unfamiliar sensation. The physical feelings were ones he'd never experienced before; he'd never had violent contact with any other living being, human or celestial. He loosened his grip, and sank to the floor in a pain-filled daze.
His attacker staggered back a few paces. "You damn stupid fool! I could've saved her, if you haven't got the balls to do it! Whatever she goes through now, remember it's all on your head. You call that love, you stupid, selfish bastard?" He dropped to his knees, panting fiercely, and then disappeared.
Saul curled up in a ball on the floor, and wept.
****
Chapter 6
"I didn't get her!" he gasped, as he yanked open the lid of the trunk. "There was someone there..." He shuffled the globes around, before picking up Nathalie. "I did try! I couldn't help it!"
She glowed a weak, sickly yellow.
"Nathalie? What's wrong?" Scared, he watched as the faint light flickered. "You're upset with me because I let her down, aren't you?" He started crying. "I didn't mean to, but her Angel of Death was already there, and he was too much of a coward to help me. I wouldn't have left her, you know I wouldn't!".
He shook her; she grew more luminescent, with a weak light that seemed to highlight her transparency. He brought her up to eye level. "Are you ill?" He turned her, trying to catch the sunlight. Normally, it would hit her sphere and fracture into a thousand shards of colour - a rainbow of joy, he thought, but today it only served to emphasise the peculiar lacklustre quality which lay in her depths. "It's not fair of you to blame me like this, Nathalie! I tried my best - stop making me feel guilty!" He shook her again. "Stop it!"
He threw her to the floor. She rolled away from him, across the dusty floorboards and came to rest amidst a pile of old newspapers.
Head in hands, he sobbed.
Evening had given way to midnight, and the room was bathed in the soft, milky glow of the moon before he picked her up again. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He kissed her shell lovingly. "I didn't mean to disappoint you."
She pulsed faintly, and he could feel a slight trembling in his palm where he touched her.
"This doesn't feel right," he muttered. "Doesn't feel right at all..."
****
"Would you like to grab a coffee when you're done? There's a café upstairs."
The polite question had startled Angelus, given the fact that she had been wheezing, puffing and dripping sweat all over the elliptical trainer at the time. So taken aback had she been, that she'd said yes almost without thinking. Now, freshly scrubbed and showered, and dressed in a shabby old pair of jeans and a fleece, she found herself sitting opposite a sturdily handsome young man, drinking tea and laughing about life in the personal fitness world.
"...so, I said to Madonna, the other week... yeah, she comes in here sometimes..."
"You're kidding? Madonna? Comes in here?" squeaked Angelus.
"Even superstars need personal fitness advice."
"Yeah, but Madonna? You're kidding, right?"
"Yeah, I'm kidding." His eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Oh, you bastard! You really had me going there!" She slapped his arm.
He smiled broadly at her. "Nah, the most famous person we've ever had in here was the Queen, and that was only 'cos she opened the place. She was cheaper to get than Linford Christie."
"Very funny, Jake," she laughed.
"So, enough about me - how about you? You haven't told me a thing about yourself." Jake put his chin in his hands and looked at her, expectantly.
She smiled back, hesitantly. "Oh, well - me? I just moved in to the area a couple of months ago. From out of town."
"Oh yeah, where from?"
"Oh," she waved her hand airily. "Up North. Anyway, I was putting on far too much weight and so here I am!"
"Oh, I dunno. You look fine to me. Still," he smiled, "Exercise is always a good idea. Especially when it..." he blushed slightly.
"When what?" she asked, charmed out of her shoes by him.
"Well, when it gives me a chance to have a coffee with you."
She grinned, and blushed herself. "Are you always this smooth, Jake?"
Laughing, he got to his feet. "Yeah, like sandpaper. Look, I have to go back down now. Maybe I'll see you next time you're in?"
"Sure, if you're working then."
"Okay." He hesitated a moment. "So, when are you back in?"
She stood, and shrugged on her coat, chuckling at him as she did so. "Friday, probably."
"Okay - I'll be here. Thanks for the coffee."
He reached out his hand to her; she looked at it for a moment, uncertainly, before hesitantly moving her own hand towards him. He grabbed it, held it and shook it awkwardly, then let it go. Casting a last smile at her, he went off down the stairs and back into the fitness suite.
She stood, looking at her hand for several moments, feeling the unaccustomed warm tingling on her fingers and palm where his skin had touched hers. She turned her hand over, looking at it. Nothing had changed - it wasn't scorched. He hadn't died. How odd.
She jumped as her mobile phone rang. Snatching it out of her jeans pocket, she snapped open the handset. "Hello?"
"ANGELUS, IT'S ME. I GOT YOUR REPORT."
"Right. Hold on." She cast a quick glance around; there was an empty table over in the far corner of the café. She ordered a cappuccino, and sat down. "Okay."
"SO WHAT'S HAPPENING NOW?"
"I've asked Records to give me a list of all angels who've had a tour as Angels of Death within the last ten years. I've also got them cross matching to the description we've got - it's limited, but you never know. We might get lucky. At least we've got a witness now."
"THERE WAS NO CASE WORKER THEN?"
"I can't be sure. I need your authorisation to access some of the real top secret projects."
"YOU HAVE IT. ALTHOUGH THERE IS NOTHING GOING ON THAT YOU DON'T KNOW ALREADY. YOU ARE OUR HIGHEST RANKING OPERATIVE, AFTER ALL. WE TRUST YOU."
"Thank you. So, if there really isn't any other special project going on, we can assume that Simeon's case worker is our main suspect?"
"INDEED. FIND HIM, ANGELUS. IT IS OF PRIME IMPORTANCE."
"I'll try my best."
"I KNOW. OH, AND BY THE WAY? WE ALL LIKE JAKE."
****
She pulled back the curtains to her office, and the room became bathed in the hazy morning sunlight. As Azrael turned to sit at her desk, she was startled by the slight whimper which came from the corner. There, squeezed snugly between the palm plant and the wall, was Saul.
She coaxed him out, helped him up and sat him down, thrusting a strong cup of coffee into his hands. It was against the rules - Angels and drugs of any sort didn't generally mix - but sometimes a shot of caffeine could work wonders for cases such as this, and in her long career on the squad she'd learned to relax the rules.
Several sips of the strong brew later, and he'd managed to get some colour back into his cheeks. She wondered whether to warn him of the side effects - he'd spend at least an hour throwing up later - but decided to spare him the foreknowledge.
"Saul?" was her only question.
He looked at her, his eyes almost pleading. She felt as though she was talking to a human child.
"What happened to your cheek?" Just below his right cheekbone was a smudge of blue-black skin; tiny but noticeable. She flicked a brief glance to his knuckles, seeing the scuffed skin on his left hand. "You've been fighting?"
He nodded. "I was attacked." Seeing her raised eyebrows, he continued, "I didn't start it. He just appeared... crazy bastard! I tried to stop him, and he punched me. I never felt such pain before." He peered at his fingers, touching the broken skin gingerly. "I'm telling you, he was one creepy son of a bitch! I managed to get a few good shots in myself."
"Another angel?"
Saul nodded. "Said something about being a caseworker. He was going to take my assignment - that's how we ended up fighting. Did he complain about me?"
"There's been nothing..."
"He said he would. Are you going to report me?"
"Why would I do that, Saul?"
"For stopping him - he said he'd make trouble for me. See, if you report me then I'm done for, aren't I? I don't think it's fair!"
"I'm not going to report you, Saul. But I would like you to write up your account of this. It's unusual, to say the least."
"You mean you're not throwing me off the squad?"
"I still want to keep my eye on you, Saul, but your performance has improved a lot lately. I was considering extending your probation, to give you a fair chance." Although looking at the state of him and hearing his fantastic story, Azrael wondered whether that would be a good idea. She was starting to wonder whether he had the mental strength to really cut it in the squad.
"Really?" He brightened immediately. "Thank you. I'll write it all up."
"Great - you do that. I'll take you off rota for the next few days, and let you rest up. A couple of days off will probably do you good. Send your report in when you've done it."
She ushered him out, ignoring his protests.
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