by L. A. Banks
“If you like it, I love it,” her aunt said, shaking her head as she accepted the bottled water. “Now I see why you all come a’callin’ with bags in your hands . . . unless all your friends eat like hippies, you’re gonna have to go everywhere toting your own food. Seems a little extreme to me, but who am I?” Aunt Niecey released a small grunt and went about putting a flame under the kettle and hunting through her cabinets for an old jar of honey. “But I will say this. Leastwise if you that particular about what you eat, I don’t have to worry about you taking no crazy drugs. Now I’ll sleep good once I go back to bed, if Arthur leaves me alone.”
This time when her aunt turned back to the stove, Celeste could see a slight blue outline frame her aunt’s hip. The strange light covered her aunt’s left foot, too, as well as both of her hands, where most of her pain usually resided. Then just behind the bright yellow curtains Celeste saw the same glow going across the windowsill, and it was at the back door.
Leaning up slightly, she peeped out the window. The blue glow seemed to extend down the side perimeter of the back of the house where the rows were no longer joined. Azrael cut Celeste a glance and she sat back down.
“All right, let’s see what else y’all got up in these here bags,” her aunt said, snapping Celeste’s focus back into the kitchen.
Aunt Niecey came back to the small, yellowing, white linoleum table and bent to peer inside one of the bags that sat on an ancient chair with white, cracked plastic padding.
“In the bottom of that one,” Azrael said in a tentative tone, “are just some things I thought you would personally like . . . some of it is for Celeste, too.”
Aunt Niecey cut him a questioning gaze for a moment, then smiled as she dug deeply into the bag. “You must really care about my baby.” She lifted out sweet-smelling vanilla lotion and fragrant homemade lavender soaps. “This had ta cost you an arm and a leg . . . but that chile always loved this kind of stuff ever since she was little. She’d always get into my good lotions and perfume.”
“Az . . . ,” Celeste murmured. “With everything going on, you went back to get me soap?”
“When we were at the church, I felt how much you liked soap.”
“I ain’t even gonna ask,” her aunt said, waving one hand at them while pulling out more items. “But at least you all was in church, so I know it wasn’t nothing untoward.” Then her aunt straightened up and put the bounty she’d scooped out of the bag onto the table with both hands. “Aw, now look at this . . . all kinds of barrettes and combs for your hair, too, suga...uhmmph...uhmmph . . . uhmmph.”
“I did not want you to have to continue to use a rubber band and damage it,” Azrael said quietly, staring at Celeste. “I want you to only have things that will make you happy and that will help you heal.”
“Thank you,” Celeste said in a soft murmur. She was stunned that in the midst of all the insanity, mayhem, and pure chaos, he’d perceived her shower . . . was that much of an empath that he’d picked up on such a silly little nuance of hers and had addressed it in a way that was so unbelievably sweet.
“It is my duty, but more than that—it is my pleasure to make you happy.” His gaze was too intense now and she had to look away. She found the edge of a napkin in the plastic holder to pick at. No man she’d ever known had cared enough to do something so nice, much less one she’d incorrectly judged as a cop, a homeless vagrant, then an apparition from her own nervous breakdown, then a drug dealer, then a terrorist. She’d believed Azrael to be so many different things all in one fragile night—everything but what he probably really was, which was something almost impossible to wrap her mind around.
“That one’s a keeper,” Aunt Niecey announced with a chuckle, then went back to the stove to turn off the kettle.
Long, quiet minutes passed as Celeste’s aunt fixed their tea and returned to the table, setting down two steaming mugs before them. Celeste watched her aunt as she pulled down a box of loose tea from a high shelf, then hunted through the drawers for a long-lost tea ball and found it.
“Well, you young folks can rest yourselves on the couch to have your tea and can keep the TV on low, if you ain’t tired...Keisha brought a new computer in here—it’s in the dining room all twisted up with my phone lines somehow. She said it was called a laptop and told me I needed it for all the kids to use when I watch ’em. What them kids need is a switch to their bad little butts, if you ask me. They be in there fighting over that thing half the time, and I wanna know why can’t they just read a danged book? Don’t ask me how to use it, but they play games and do homework—you can amuse yourself with that, too, if you want. Makes me no nevermind. I’ma take my tea up and say good night.”
However, before she left the stove with her mug, Aunt Niecey gave Celeste a meaningful glare. “But you know my rule about hanky-panky. I don’t care how old you are, if you ain’t married, it ain’t happening under my roof.”
“No, ma’am . . . it’s not even like that,” Celeste said quickly.
“Yeah, well . . . you sleep up in your old room. Mr. Azrael can have the couch. Might not be like that at this moment, but I’ve lived long enough to know that things have a way of getting like that on the spur of the moment. Anyway, you know where I keep the blankets and towels.”
Aunt Niecey looked from one to the other but then gentled her expression. “But I’m glad you met someone who seems nice.” She smiled, revealing large gaps between her teeth where her dental plate went. “He’s gonna be high maintenance to cook for, but so far, my hunch is he’s one of the good ones.”
Celeste smiled. “Good night and thank you for opening the door.”
Aunt Niecey just clucked her tongue and took a sip of tea. “Ain’t no bother. What else was I doing? You young folks keep things interesting. But y’all get some rest.”
Azrael stood when Aunt Niecey headed for the doorway. “Ma’am, thank you.”
She turned to him and set her hot tea down on the table and took up both of his hands. “I might be half-blind, but I can tell a good soul when I see one. You feel it inside your heart. As long as you treating my chile like this, you always welcome here.”
Azrael nodded and Celeste watched the blue-light white cover her aunt’s gnarled hands.
“You got honest eyes and a healing touch . . . your skin is clear as a baby’s behind like you ain’t never took a drug or a cigarette in your life—probably not a drinker, either.”
“No, ma’am,” he murmured.
“Warm-blooded, too. Your hands are burning up, son.”
“They’re always that way . . . but again, I thank you for your hospitality. This won’t be forgotten and you definitely will have a star in your crown. Be blessed, Ms. Jackson.”
“You, too, son,” Aunt Niecey said quietly, then did something she’d never done to any of Celeste’s other boyfriends—she hugged Azrael hard, then touched his face. “I don’t know where you came from, but I’m pretty sure the Good Lord sent you.”
When the elderly woman pulled away from their embrace, Azrael stepped aside so Aunt Niecey could pass by him in the narrow space between the table and the doorway.
“Good night and thanks again for everything,” Celeste said behind her. “I love you.”
“Good night, baby . . . and you know I love you. Goes without sayin’.”
Both Celeste and Azrael stared after the elderly woman and watched her go up the stairs. Once Celeste heard her aunt’s bedroom door close, she turned to Azrael.
“Thank you for healing her.”
“I just took away a little of the pain.”
Celeste became very, very still. “Then you didn’t heal her all the way . . . because...”
“Celeste,” he said in a sad tone and then sat down slowly. “For everything there is a season.”
Celeste picked up her tea and stared down into it. “I thought angels could do everything.”
“We can do what we are asked if it is in accordance to Divine will.”
“B
ut I saw the blue light touch her, then it was on the doors and the windows and—”
“The light on her body was my intention to siphon away the pain from her . . . the light at the windows and doors and along the perimeter of the property was her doing. She anointed this house with her prayers and love. We answer those prayers. There is a corps of us that are dispatched solely to address human prayer. Her home is blessed. Her home is protected, and no demons can enter. This house will be passed over. I added my prayers to strengthen hers.”
“That is so deep,” Celeste murmured. “But how come I could see it? I never saw that before, and Aunt Niecey didn’t just start praying tonight.”
“The scales are beginning to fall away from your eyes, Celeste. Your temple is clean, the toxins are gone from your system, and you have literally been touched by an angel. The Light inside you, in your special DNA, is beginning to repair itself; therefore you can see the Light in others and you can also see any prayer light covering inanimate objects.”
He hesitated as though searching for a way to make her understand. “Just like before I touched you and before we went to the library, I didn’t know how to address your aunt properly as ‘ma’am.’ I didn’t know the culture, the dialect . . . but the longer I remain in your company, the more my resident knowledge is released. It is no different with you. The more you are in my presence, the more you will comprehend about the higher realms of existence. Death is not final, it is not separation. The spirit is eternal. As long as there is no separation from the Light, humans are also immortal. Only the body dies.”
Celeste took a slow sip of her hot tea, not angry, simply weary and knowing the truth inside her soul. Her aunt had lived a long life. Her aunt had raised generations. Her aunt was due divine respite from it all soon. She’s said it many times before, her aunt was tired.
“I guess the Angel of Death isn’t exactly the one to consult on life-extension requests then,” she said with a sad smile, looking at Azrael as her vision blurred with tears.
Her tone was gentle and had a faraway quality to it, sounding more like a soft plea than a sarcastic statement. For some reason, her calm resignation about what he was trying to tell her seemed to draw him to her. He knelt down on the floor in front of her and clasped her hands in his, then slowly laid his cheek against her lap.
“This is why you brought me here tonight, isn’t it, Az?”
He looked up at her as though speaking now would make the words cut his throat. He only nodded.
“When?”
“I do not know, but soon,” he replied softly. “The time and hour is not my province. But it will be a gentle slip away in her sleep. Denise Jackson deserves no less than that. My brother who sees to such things has whispered that promise to me.”
Celeste’s entire body stiffened, and through his tender gaze she could tell he was trying to send as much love and Light into her being from his heart as he could.
“Not tonight,” Celeste said in a quavering whisper. “I cannot be the one to find her.”
“You won’t,” Azrael said, squeezing her hands tightly. “And it will not be tonight.” He looked up at her and repeated the promise. “Not tonight...I just wanted you to have a chance to tell her how much you loved her and to show her you were all right before you left this city on your quest, because I know that your spirit would never be at rest if you didn’t.”
Celeste extracted her palms from his, wiped her face, and reached for the honey, pouring some on a teaspoon with shaking hands. “I’ve cried more in this one night than I have in a lifetime. Have seen things that should have really sent me into a mental ward. But of all of it, knowing what you just told me about my aunt, is both a blessing and a curse.” She dipped the spoon into her tea and stirred it slowly, then returned her focus to him. “It must be hard to know in advance . . . to see death coming to those you love. I can’t imagine. How do you deal with knowing?”
Her honest question and the intensity of her gaze seemed to be almost too much for him to bear. He glanced down at her lap for a moment, then drew in a steadying breath before he continued to look deeply into her eyes. She could tell that he was trying to impart the truth through the confusion within his spirit. How did one deliver news like this? she wondered. Had to be as hard for the giver as the taker.
“I have never had anyone to specifically love,” he said in a quiet rumble. “Only the entire amalgam called humanity. Of course I love the Source of All That Is with the very foundation of my spirit, but I mean loving an individual part of the Source, loving one human in particular, is new to me.”
“It’s something most of us here spend a lifetime searching for and sorting out...loving family or not, loving children or not, figuring out all the dynamics of love struggles. It occupies a lot of our time here.” Celeste released a long sigh. “All I know is that my aunt Niecey made loving somebody an art form . . . she loved family hard and true. She claimed you and made no bones about the fact that you were hers. And all I know is that she was mine. Is mine. Will always be that.”
“Your aunt is so very, very dear. When I held her hands, I felt generations of people she’s touched, a cascade of help that she flung out into this world not caring where the net of love she’d cast landed . . . and it went on and on to even those she’ll never know. And then I knew her work was done and I almost wept for joy, but also for the sadness that her transition will cause so many, especially you.”
“I don’t even know how old Aunt Niecey is,” Celeste murmured as another large tear rolled down the bridge of her nose. “But you’re right, she helped so many, especially me with all my drama...Will she really go to a good place?”
Azrael grasped Celeste’s hands again and brought them to his heart. The swift motion made her lean in close, their faces only inches apart.
“Celeste, she will go to a most beautiful place of freedom and love. No corporeal form to feel injury or pain, no hatred or guilt, or anger or fear. There is no hunger or lack . . . and everyone she ever loved is there, just as she will be able to still be here for you.”
“Thank you,” Celeste murmured, then brushed his forehead with a gentle kiss. “I believe you in a way I’ve never believed what they told me growing up. You’ve shown me things in one night that . . . I don’t even have the words for.”
“You saved my life, too, Celeste.” He looked up into her eyes, and soon she could feel all the compassion and warmth of his spirit radiating from his soul source within.
“I didn’t save you,” she whispered. “You’re...the angel, not me. I was the one messed up and on the run that you picked up in a dive bar, remember?”
“Were it not for you,” he admitted quietly, “I would have been found before I fully understood this world. My enemies thought that they would find me weak and vulnerable, which is why they only sent one of theirs after me. Had they known I had become strong, there would have been a more uneven attack.”
“The guy in the library?”
“Yes . . . from my initial manifestation, my energy signature was weak, my mind confused...Gavreel said I had possibly tipped them off by trying to send earthbound spirits in pain into the Light. So, they sent one of their more insidious beings to break my human body before I could become strong, clearly hoping that I would be delayed in finding you.”
“But I didn’t do anything but scream and run and give you a hard way to go,” Celeste murmured, her gaze searching his. “What could I have possibly done in the short couple of hours we’ve known each other?”
“You trusted me when everything in your human experience indicated that you should not have. You brought me to hallowed ground so that I could meditate and still my mind to hear my nonmanifest brethren more clearly. That gave me direction and grounded me. You fed me, Celeste—took me to where I could rejuvenate this physical body I am so unused to with proper food...then you fed my spirit and made me laugh, made me happy so that I could understand how profound and so very simple human joy can be. That fed
my spirit. And then you fed my mind, took me to a place where I could learn so much so fast that it made me dizzy, and at the very end of that, you stood your ground and did not forsake me, even though you had every reason to flee.”
He looked at her with a gentle expression, rubbing the backs of her palms with his thumbs. “You taught me your words and customs with a touch . . . you hugged me in a church, laid your cheek against my scars, and had compassion for my injuries even while still half-frightened of me—yet you became righteously indignant about the injuries you’d witnessed and you were ready to fight those who you thought had scarred my back and had taken my wings. You have a righteous soul, Celeste, one that cannot abide seeing another being abused, and that is a sacred thing.”
He looked away again and swallowed hard, seeming to struggle for words that would convey the depths of his emotions. “You trusted me enough, even after what you saw and despite all your fears about what I might be . . . that you brought me to your sanctuary. Here. And it has taught me of the loving, trusting, beautiful nature of the human spirit. Until now, I had only heard of this. Until this moment it was all theoretical, and although I never fully understood why the Source wanted us to fight so valiantly for humanity, I knew there had to be good reason. Then I came here, filled with disdain for the horrible conditions that this supposed beauty was to flower within. As I looked around and felt the worst deprivation I had ever known and witnessed lost souls too many to even count, I almost began to give up hope. I could not understand what I was witnessing and therefore began to even question the reasoning of the Source.”
Azrael closed his eyes and brought her knuckles against his cheek. “Oh, Celeste, don’t humans know that if we angels give up hope once we have manifested on earth, that is the end for us? That is how we die . . . once we are separated from the Light, if we lose hope, then we are fallen for good.”
