by T. R. Hamby
“No,” Mel replied, “but I will now. And maybe...if she’ll have me…”
He trailed off, hoping against hope that she would--that she loved him too.
Michael cleared his throat, and Mel looked at him. “I have a name.”
Mel took a step forward, frowning. “Other than Ariel Cortez?”
“Yes,” he replied, nodding. “I think that was just coincidence. This lead is better--Alessandro. His latest victim had it written down on some paper in her purse.”
“That could be anyone’s name.”
“I know,” he sighed, “but it’s all we have.”
Alessandro. One of the most common names in Italy, of course. Damn.
Mel finally nodded. “I’ll do some research. See what I can find.”
“It’d be better if there was another set of us,” Michael muttered under his breath. He looked at Mel, and there was awkward concern in his eyes. “Can I...leave you now?”
He hesitated. He felt like he should say something more--a thank you, maybe. But he had gotten so used to not really talking to Michael. And after all, even with Michael’s new promise--it didn’t change what he had done.
He nodded, and Michael stepped backwards, disappearing before him. Mel stood there a moment, staring at the spot where his brother had vanished.
Then he turned on his heel and raced down the stairs.
He had to get to Nora.
Nora
She sat on the couch, waiting. Waiting and thinking.
She had been there for the whole thing, hiding behind the concrete barrier, in the next room. She had heard the panic attack, felt Mel’s terrible anger, heard the fight, the words after.
Mel loved her. He had said it right there--or most of it.
Maybe...if she’ll have me…
Her heart soared, and tears welled in her eyes. But no--she couldn’t be happy yet. Not until he said it. She had to hear him say it, or it wouldn’t be real.
She had only left a few minutes ahead of him, so it wasn’t long before the door opened.
She watched as Mel stepped inside. He was a mess: His shirt was torn and bloody, and his hair was untidy, with bits of concrete in it. It would have been funny if not for the circumstances.
She stayed on the couch. He was staring at her, nervous and concerned.
“How are you?” he asked quietly, standing near the kitchen counter.
She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about earlier--”
“No,” he said, “I’m sorry. I overreacted. A lot. I just...wasn’t prepared.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed it.”
He smiled slightly. “You always push things. It’s okay.”
His smile was an encouraging sign. She took a deep breath--here comes another push.
“I followed you,” she said. “I mean, I was trying to chase you down, but you were too fast, so I sort of followed you instead...so...I was there. In the warehouse. And...I heard it all.”
She felt a sudden wave of guilt. Mel looked struck, his smile fading. They stared at each other for a long moment.
Finally he said, “All of it?”
Nora nodded.
He seemed to think for a moment, still looking stunned.
He finally let out a breath. “So...you know then. That I love you.”
There. He said it. The tears returned, and she jumped to her feet, racing toward him and throwing her arms around his neck. He held her, and he smelled like dust and blood, and she didn’t care. She loved him, and he loved her, and everything else seemed so unimportant by comparison.
“God, I’m so sorry,” Mel moaned. “I was stupid, ignoring it like I did.”
“You were scared,” she murmured soothingly, pulling away to look up at him, brushing at her eyes.
He cupped her face in his hands. “Do you love me?”
She rolled her eyes, and he laughed. “Yes. Of course I do. More than anything.” She shook her head. “I should have just said it, instead of acting paranoid--but--I was scared too. Scared you didn’t feel the same way.”
He had tears in his eyes too, and he was looking at her as if afraid he would never see her again. She touched his hand, leaning her head into his palm, looking at him reassuringly.
“It’s okay, Mel,” she soothed. “I’m right here.”
He nodded, then kissed her, and she smiled against his lips. God, finally. She was so, so happy...she wondered if she had ever been this ecstatic before. Only a few times, and this was one of the best. There were no worries, no hesitations. She knew Mel; she knew he wouldn’t leave her, wouldn’t fall out of love with her. It wasn’t in his nature--he was an Angel, after all. What she had now was forever, and it was the most precious gift she had ever received.
They broke apart, chuckling, brushing away their tears.
Nora looked him over. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “No...just...a little tired.”
She gripped his arms. “You had a panic attack.”
He looked a little embarrassed. “Yes.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Better. Again, tired, but better.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “It rarely happens...I was just…”
“Scared,” she finished for him. “And remembering.”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He shook his head slightly, looking down. “I can’t change how I feel about her...or her death,” he whispered. “It’s been so long, but it still haunts me. I might still have nightmares...I might still panic. But none of that changes how much I love you. How happy you make me. You were never just a friend to me, Nora. You’ll always be my love.”
She sighed; it was almost too much. “I love you too--so much--but let’s get you in the shower before I start ugly crying.”
He laughed, taking her face again and kissing her. “Only if you join me.”
“I think you’ll need help anyway,” she said uncertainly, watching as he grimaced, unbuttoning his shirt. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
“My brother is much stronger than me,” he said, wincing again as he slipped his shirt off. “So I’m bound to feel a little sore.”
“I hope he got some of it back.”
He chuckled. “He was definitely surprised. We haven’t fought since the War.”
“What I heard was...loud.”
He grasped her hand, following her to the bathroom. “I was so angry--were you affected at all?”
They stopped in the bathroom, and she turned the water on, then helped him out of his clothes.
“I was behind the wall,” she said slowly. “And it was made of concrete. I still felt kind of woozy, but...I think it shielded me.”
“Really,” he said, fascinated. “That could be useful.”
“Your brother was fine, though,” she said, frowning. “He didn’t sound affected.”
“He’s used to my anger,” Mel explained. “If someone is around my anger enough, they’re no longer affected by it. And Michael has been around it for a long time.”
It was a long shower...they got distracted...and then they dried off and got into bed, Mel slipping his arms around her waist.
Nora drew close to him, tracing her fingers down his arm. He looked close to drifting off; he was blinking, clearly trying to keep his eyes open. She could only imagine how exhausted he was, after a huge panic attack and then a fight with his brother.
“Go to sleep,” she murmured gently. “I’ll be right here.”
He smiled, studying her. “Do you want to get married?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’ve never really liked the idea of marriage.”
“Oh, good. Me either.” He sighed, squeezing her waist. “I only asked because I thought you might want to.”
“You would get married for me?”
“Of course,” he said softly. “Most humans find it important. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”
She shook her head again. “No...it just feels...too constraining to
me. The guys I dated in college...they all wanted to settle down and get married, right after graduation. It felt like being forced into a cage. And then you know how Izzie is, acting like it’s what all the cool kids do.”
He considered this, nodding. “I never liked marriage myself. But it was necessary at times, to get along in the world.”
They were quiet for a moment, Nora brushing at his hair, when he finally said, “I guess this means you don’t want to live with me.”
She paused, and looked at him nervously. She thought about it, biting her lip.
“I mean...I sort of live with you,” she said hesitantly. “Part time.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she sighed. “Mel...I’ve been living with people all my life. I’ve never truly been on my own. I just...I need that independence. I need my own space...a place that’s mine, you know?”
He nodded. “I want you to be independent. But I also want you to be safe. I wish you would at least let me buy you a place--something small, if you want…”
“Let’s talk about it later,” she said soothingly. “You need to sleep.”
He looked mutinous, and she chuckled. “Remember, you love me.”
He smiled. “I do.”
“Does it feel the same--as it did with her?” she asked curiously.
He thought for a moment, frowning. “A little. The feeling is the same. But you’re different from her, and she was different from you.”
Nora decided to push, one more time. “I know what you asked God--when you made your deal with him,” she whispered. She had figured it out a while ago, after one of his nightmares.
He looked at her, waiting. She said, “It was to see her again. One last time. That’s how you know what Heaven’s like. Because you were there when you saw her.”
He was quiet for a moment, and she could tell he was remembering.
Then he nodded. “Yes. It was the one thing that kept me from total despair--knowing she was happy. That she didn’t feel pain or sorrow anymore.”
They talked a little bit longer, before Mel fell asleep. Nora stayed awake for a while, thinking. A new worry was forming in her mind already. A worry about eternity.
Mel had eternity. But she didn’t, and this worried her. What would happen when she died, and they could never see each other again? Could he survive such a loss for a second time?
Her alarm went off at four a.m., and both of them groaned.
“I thought you had Saturdays off now,” Mel grumbled, turning and wrapping his arms around her waist.
She sighed, propping herself up on her elbow and turning the alarm off. It was a good thing she had set it, because she had completely forgotten about life outside of Mel.
“We’re rehearsing six days a week now,” she said, lying back down, “now that Opening Night is coming up.”
Mel mumbled something under his breath, then kissed her neck. “Good morning, diletta.”
She turned to face him. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
She could just make out his smile in the dimness. “Happy.”
She smiled. “Me too. So much.”
“I’ll drive you to the theater.”
She frowned. “That Angel guy is still out there, right?”
He nodded. “It’s what Michael came to talk to me about.”
“Oh...I thought maybe you had Called him or something.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So he could see me like that? No. That was unfortunate.”
She chuckled. “So what did he say?”
His face darkened. “Just a name, found on another victim. Alessandro.”
Nora stared at him. Alessandro? That was it?
“I know. It’s not much.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, this time around we have the internet.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So...what? You’re gonna look up every Alessandro in Rome?”
He sighed, and shrugged. “Michael is out there searching. It’s all I can do to help right now.”
She thought for a moment. “How often do you...look for people on the internet?”
He frowned. “Not very often...Michael is usually the detective.”
She bit her lip. Should she even consider it? It would be helpful, maybe...people were dying, after all. Women were dying. This guy needed to be caught fast, and right now Michael and Mel had shit to work with.
But Mel immediately said, “No, Nora. We already discussed this.”
“But--”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not offering to go out there and knock on doors,” she shot back. “But I could help you with research.”
“I know how to use Google, Nora. I’m Immortal, not elderly.”
She felt a surge of indignation, and she sat up. “So that’s what you’re going to do? Go down the list of thousands of Alessandros on Google? Facebook? There are three million people in Rome, Mel. If there were ten thousand Alessandros, and you checked up on ten a day--not including all the time it took to find them--you’d be wandering around for a thousand days. This Angel would probably find you first.”
He lied there, looking up at her, clearly sulking.
Finally he sighed. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
She let out a breath. “Have you ever heard of the Dark Web?”
He frowned. “No.”
She had already known the answer, but she still couldn’t hide her disbelief. “What about Michael?”
“I don’t know--usually Google and Facebook are enough to find someone, if he has to resort to the internet. Remember we usually have to find humans.”
She nodded. “Right. So the Dark Web is like--illegal internet. You need a special software to connect to it. But you can use it to find people. There are websites--people, hackers--that can find addresses, phone numbers...bank statements, visas. It costs money, and it would still take a lot of work, but if you use the Dark Web, you can find an Alessandro who has no financial history, no footprint. Like an Angel would.”
“Depending on how long he’s been on Earth,” Mel replied. But she could tell he was impressed. He was clearly thinking it over.
“And I can help,” she said quickly. “We could divide up the work--three ways. You need the extra set of eyes.”
He thought for another moment, absentmindedly brushing his hand up her waist.
He finally looked at her. “How do you know about that?”
She smiled. “Bezi. Who do you think?”
“What does Bezi do on it?”
“Something about trading Bitcoin. Probably not legal.” She bounced a little, grasping his hand, silently begging him to say yes.
She wanted to help. She wasn’t sure why--aside from the fact that innocent people were being killed. Maybe because it was important to Mel. It was a job he had to do, a deal he had made, and she knew he took it seriously. There was also the fact that he and Michael had nothing but a name. They needed all the help they could get.
He sighed, sitting up too. “Let me think about it, okay? I’m not saying no--it’s just--I want to be careful. I can’t lose you.”
She felt her heart ache. She drew to him, sitting in his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her, brushing at her hair.
“Tell me again?” he murmured, and she chuckled.
She gave him a kiss. “I love you.”
Michael
He was loitering on Via di Castagna, a map of Rome in his hands. He had spent the last few days on Castagna and Parete, hoping to catch the sensation of an Angel nearby.
Still, nothing. Ariel was clearly using his Talent.
Night was falling. A good time for murdering. Although the weather was warm, Michael kept a hoodie on, the hood over his head. He didn’t want to give any indication he was celestial.
This was a pointless task. Any one of the remaining passersby could be an Angel, and he still wouldn’t know.
He had been scouring the streets of every victim
for weeks. He must have passed him at some point.
Three women. The polizia still hadn’t noticed. These women were easily forgotten, thanks to their profession, even though they were murdered by someone with obvious inhuman strength.
Their lives were still precious to Michael. After all, they were all Father’s Creation. They had had passions, hopes. They hadn’t deserved death.
There was suddenly a thud and a scream, and he looked around. It was coming from a decrepit old building several yards ahead.
There you are.
He sprinted down the pavement. There was no one in sight now. He went down the alley, the screams still coming from the building, and broke through an old wood door.
Upstairs.
He found a dilapidated staircase and raced up, his heart pounding; the woman was now whimpering in pain.
He made it to the landing, down the hall, following her voice, and flew into the room.
He caught one glimpse of a man, wearing a hoodie similar to his, before he disappeared down the fire escape.
“Aiuto,” a voice said weakly, and Michael looked down. He had been poised to chase the man, but when he saw the woman lying on the floor, he knelt beside her instead.
She hadn’t been strangled, like the last one. Her torso was bent awkwardly, and he knew her spine had been broken. Her face was gray, mottling, and she grasped his hand, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Por favore...non lasciarmi…” she whispered, gripping his hand.
He felt his chest tighten painfully. He squeezed her hand gently.
“I’m here,” he said. “I’m here.”
She relaxed a little, though she was breathing raggedly.
“What did he look like?”
It took her a moment to reply. “Alessandro. Tall...brown hair...tell my mamma I’m sorry…”
She seemed unable to speak after that, putting all her energy into breathing, gripping Michael’s hand tightly. Then her breathing slowed, her lips turned blue, and after a few moments, her hand loosened.
He ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn’t often that he cried, but he wanted to now. She looked a little like Agatha. She was so small, her face so young. He looked at her little hands and saw needle marks.
