by T. R. Hamby
She felt a surge of indignation, and she sat up too.
“Of course I am,” she replied firmly. “First of all, my sister and I are barely on speaking terms. Secondly...and most importantly, I love you. I want to be with you, forever. I don’t want to leave you, and I know you don’t want me to leave you either. Yes, I’ll make friends...and I’ll lose them. It’s not something I’m making light of. But it doesn’t change how badly I want to be with you.”
He stared at her, and she knew her words had been impressive. He frowned, looking away. She could tell he hadn’t expected her to have such a good counter argument.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if it’s even possible,” he said quietly. There was curiosity in his voice, and Nora’s heart leapt. “But asking my Father is probably the only way--if there is a way.”
She felt a rush, and wrapped her arms around him. “So I have your blessing?”
He chuckled, but then his face grew serious.
“Nora,” he said carefully, “there might come a time when you don’t--”
“Love you anymore?” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “No. That will never happen. As long as I live, as long as I breathe, I will always love you. I don’t know why, out of all the women you’ve met over the centuries, I ended up being your next love, Mel, but it happened, and that means something. This is one thing that will never change for us.”
He stared at her for a long moment, clearly a little stunned. He let out a breath, and turned to face her, slipping his arms around her waist.
“You make me so happy,” he whispered, holding her tight.
She felt a pang--a happy pang, and she held his face in her hands and kissed him. It was the sweetest kiss, and her heart raced.
After a moment they broke away, and he brushed her hair from her face, his blue eyes marveling.
“You’ll have to ask Michael,” he said, and his voice lowered at the thought. “He’s the only one that can speak to our Father. The next time we see him...you can ask.”
She nodded, feeling a thrill of both excitement and nervousness. She didn’t like the thought of asking Michael, one reason being that he was so boorish. The main reason, of course, being what he had done to Mel.
But it was a necessary evil, and Nora was willing to put on her best face in order to get what she wanted.
Mel kissed her neck, his hand trailing up her waist, and she giggled.
“Just...promise me something,” he whispered, and she studied him--there was an almost pained look on his face. “If my Father agrees...don’t tell me what it involves. I don’t think I should know.”
Nora considered this. She nodded. “Yeah--you’re probably right.”
They were quiet for a moment, holding each other.
“You’re all right?” he asked, a hint of concern still in his voice.
“I’m great.”
“Good.” And he grabbed her, sweeping her onto her back, and she let out a shriek of laughter. He hovered over her, smirking, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“I didn’t get to do this last night,” he purred, before kissing her again.
He had to fly to Russia the next day. Nora wondered if this was a good thing--give him some distance to clear his head, after that nightmare he had about Michael. He had been having nightmares almost every night since.
She missed him, and her apartment felt very empty when she got home. She tried to busy herself with cleaning.
Last night was on her mind. She paced around the living room, biting her lip and wondering. Mel said she could talk to Michael when they next saw him...but she began to wonder if talking to him alone would be better. The two got on each other’s nerves, after all. And she could handle Michael.
She decided to make dinner first. Just to be polite--she was asking for a favor, after all. She made a simple casserole--her mother’s recipe--and then opened a bottle of wine. If he didn’t want it, then oh well--more for her.
She then stood at the counter, twisting her fingers together, her heart pounding.
“Michael?” she Called hesitantly. She wasn’t even sure it would work--she wasn’t an Angel, after all.
But after a moment, there he was, looking extremely awkward.
He looked around the apartment before eyeing her. “You all right?”
“Yes--um--I’m fine,” she said quickly, stumbling over her words. “I have a question for you, and--I wasn’t sure if you wanted some dinner.”
He looked perplexed, and raised an eyebrow. “Dinner?”
“Yeah, dinner. It’s--”
“Have you lost your mind?”
She jumped; she’d never heard such emotion from him. “What?”
“I asked if you lost your mind. If Mel found out I’m here for dinner, he’d lose his shit. Does he even know you Called me?”
“Calm down,” she said.
“He doesn’t, does he?”
She sighed, trying to stay patient. She couldn’t be rude to him now.
“I just have a question--a request, actually,” she said firmly. “I’m not keeping it from Mel; he knows about it...I just thought it’d be better if I asked in private.”
“In case I say no?” he said, although he looked intrigued despite himself.
She was quiet. After a long moment, he sighed.
“All right. Fine.”
She took a deep breath. “Do you still talk to God?”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s your question?”
“Do you?”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Yes.”
She bit her lip. It was now or never. “I want you to ask him if he can make me Immortal.”
He looked beyond annoyed. “You can’t become Immortal. Mortals don’t become Immortal. Nothing becomes Immortal.”
“They can become annoyed,” Nora shot back, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s my answer. No human has ever achieved Immortality, and many have tried before you.”
“I’m not asking what other people have or haven’t done,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’m asking what God can do. If you can just ask him--”
“What makes you think he would make you Immortal?” Michael asked, cocking his head. “You’re just a human.”
“I’m the human his son is in love with,” she said icily. “The second. The first one he had you kill.”
He looked down, and she knew she had hit a nerve. Right now she wasn’t remorseful.
“It would be a shame if Mel lost me too--being that I’m mortal and all,” she continued. “How difficult would it be for him to work for God if he’s overwhelmed by grief?”
He was studying her, and she could tell he was almost impressed.
He let out a breath. “Fine. I’ll try. But it’ll take time...it doesn’t work like a telephone.”
Her heart raced, and she nodded, relieved. “Thank you,” she said. With a small jolt, she realized that was probably the nicest thing she had ever said to him.
Michael nodded too. “Can I go now?”
She couldn’t help but give him a look. “You really don’t want something to eat?”
“No,” he said, looking away. “Mel may trust you, but he doesn’t trust me.”
“He trusts you enough to work with him,” she pointed out.
He just shook his head. “Goodbye.”
He took a few steps back and vanished.
Nora sat down. Well, that went better than expected. Actually, it had nearly been downright simple. Michael agreed to talk to God about it. Now all there was to do was wait.
The look on Michael’s face when she had mentioned Lilith flashed through her mind, and she felt a surge of guilt. He had looked pained--remorseful, and this hurt her. She had always imagined Michael as guiltless, unfeeling, whose only priority was following God’s orders. She hadn’t thought he would regret what he had done to Lilith, but it was clear that he did.
What had God done to them? Ordering the death of an innoce
nt woman, breaking the heart of one brother and turning the other into a murderer? Was this a Being that Nora really wanted to get involved with?
She shook herself. No. She had to do this. She wasn’t going to be afraid. Come what may, she would become Immortal, and she and Mel would be together for the ages.
Mel
Russia was very boring, but Mel hadn’t gone there for pleasure. He had an order of jewels scheduled to be picked up, and he took them on the plane with him back to Italy. When he arrived in Rome, he dropped them off at the galleria before driving home.
He had had some time to think, though. He wondered about Michael, about that terrible dream he had had. Ariel had been alive, and forcing Mel to torture Michael, to kill him. It had been so vivid that when Mel had woken he had sworn Ariel was in the room.
He remembered what Ariel had said--how Michael was shunned back Home. That they called him Michael the Murderer. Some revered Mel, but none did Michael. Mel had had no idea--maybe that was why Michael so rarely visited Up There.
It scared Mel. All this time he had thought Michael’s reputation had remained the same, that he still had friends, still had respect. What did he have now that he was reviled?
All of this worried him. If Michael had no one, then he had nothing.
He remembered Michael’s face, watching him holding the knife, knowing at any second Mel would attack him. He had become resigned, had lowered his hands. Had he wanted it to happen?
It had scared Mel enough that he had Called for him, asked him lamely if he was all right. Michael had looked annoyed, maybe even a little mutinous, and Mel didn’t have the strength to tell him how he felt...fuck, he couldn’t even admit to himself that he still cared for his brother. How could he, when every time he got close, Lilith’s death flashed through his mind?
But what exactly was the solution now? Mel couldn’t befriend him. They would never be friends; those days were long gone. He didn’t know.
He walked into his apartment, greeted by the smell of cooking.
“Ciao,” he said, turning the corner and finding a radiant Nora cooking brunch. He was taken aback; she was wearing a summery red dress with a flared skirt. She hardly ever wore dresses.
She beamed at him, racing over and embracing him. “Ciao, bello,” she greeted, kissing his neck.
“You are bellissima,” he said, pulling away to look at her. “Where were you hiding that?”
“Oh, it’s old,” she said, smoothing her hands down her skirt. “It’s so nice out today that I decided to wear it. I really don’t wear it much. Put your stuff away; I made prima colazione.”
He dropped off his suitcase in the bedroom and came back, eager to look at her in her dress. She may have gotten even more beautiful in the twenty-four hours he was away.
“How was Russia?” she asked, handing him a plate.
They sat down at the table, and Mel ran his hand up her thigh, making her giggle.
“It was fine,” he said, leaving her alone. “Just that order of topaz. I’m glad to be back. I missed you.”
“Yeah, you had to spend the night without me. How was that?”
He smirked. “I used my imagination.”
She rolled her eyes, giggling again, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate and nibbling on it.
“How’s your finger?” he asked.
She showed him: The swelling was down, and the wound was healing nicely.
“Some of the stitches haven’t dissolved,” she said with a frown, holding her hand gingerly in the other.
“It’s only been a couple days. I’ll take the rest out in a day or two,” he said, spreading jam on his toast.
She looked intrigued. “You know how to remove stitches?”
He smiled, longing to impress her. “I know much more than that. I’ve been around a long time, remember?”
“Maybe I’ll learn,” she said longingly, “if I become Immortal.”
She jumped a little. “Speaking of which--I talked to Michael. He says he’ll ask.”
Mel frowned. “Really?” He hadn’t expected that to be so easy.
She nodded. “Yeah. Well--he was an ass about it first, of course. But he said yes.”
He chewed his toast carefully. He still had his reservations about the whole thing. He had to accept that Nora knew what she was doing. But there was one thing she might not have known.
He looked at her. “Be careful,” he said quietly. “My Father is...not what humans think he is. He doesn’t just give you things. Michael and I both had to make deals with him. So...please. Tread lightly.”
She looked grave, and nodded slowly.
They were quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, when she asked, “Michael made a deal with God?”
He nodded. “God told me.”
“What was it?”
He shrugged. “Something in exchange for his services down here--working with me. I tried asking what he got out of it, but Father wouldn’t tell me. None of my business, apparently.”
“I guess technically it isn’t,” she replied, and he shrugged.
He frowned. “He was--fine with you? He wasn’t a total dick, was he?”
She chuckled. “Yeah. He was fine. Just your average stick in the mud.”
He couldn’t help but smile. It relieved him, though when he really thought about it, he knew there was no reason to doubt his brother.
Then Lilith flashed in his mind, and his head twitched.
She must have sensed his change in mood. She squeezed his hand, and he looked at her. He could tell she knew what he was thinking.
“Just talk to him,” she murmured.
His head twitched again, but he tried to be patient. “It’ll never be that simple.”
“I know,” she said soothingly. “But you can always just...say something. Something small.” She hesitated, before adding, “I think...what you said the other night. That was a start.”
Mel looked at her. He had had a feeling she had heard.
She met his eyes, frowning worriedly. “You’re afraid for him?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. Ariel said...some things.”
He told her about what Ariel had said, and then about Michael’s behavior when he had nearly stabbed him.
She frowned, troubled. “Do you think he’s...in danger? Could he be depressed?”
Mel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s hard to judge. He’s been so...subdued since the War.”
“What was he like before?”
He was quiet for a moment, remembering painfully. “He was happy. Very jovial, always laughing. A little arrogant. We…” But he couldn’t continue, and he stared at his plate instead.
There was a quiet moment.
“Maybe I could--” Nora began, but then she hesitated.
He studied her. “Could what?”
She let out a sigh, and shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t even want to eat the casserole I made.”
“You made him a casserole?”
“I was trying to be polite,” she shot back, making a face at him. “I wasn’t just going to ask him for something without feeding him.”
“How very Italian.”
She rolled her eyes at him, and he chuckled.
“I don’t know what the answer is,” he said quietly. “He and I are so different.”
“It matters that you care,” she said gently. “At least neither of you are like my sister. All she wants is to control me.”
He considered this. This was at least true--Michael had never tried to control him.
Of course, that paled in comparison to what Michael had actually done.
Nora was nodding. “I’ll think of something.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, but she shot him a look, and he chuckled.
“Might as well,” she said, leaning against him, “if he’s going to help me achieve Immortality.”
He wrapped an arm around her, kissing her hair. “I hope you’re n
ot doing this so you don’t grow old,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.
“You’re such an ass,” she said, and he laughed.
It was after Opening Night of Nora’s show that Mel saw Michael again. Nora had had another perfect performance, and had gone straight to bed at her place afterwards. Mel went upstairs to shower--he didn’t want to wake her, as she would have to perform all over again tomorrow night.
When he got out of the shower, he sensed Michael in the living room again. So soon? He threw on some clothes and ventured out, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.
Michael was standing by the couch, his hands in his pockets. He was frowning, and Mel frowned back, worried.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Michael replied, shaking his head. “We have a new one. A killer.”
“Where?”
“I’m still looking. He killed a man--bludgeoned him to death. Dumped him on the north side.”
Mel considered this, shoving his hands into his pockets too. “Let’s hope it’s not another serial killer.”
“Or an Angel,” Michael said, almost to himself.
They were quiet a moment.
Just talk to him, Nora had said. Mel sighed; he felt extremely awkward even entertaining the idea.
He started off with something easy. “How’s Judith? Agatha?”
Michael frowned and looked away. “Judith is fine...she’s having another child.”
Mel was surprised. “Is she? I thought she was happy with just Dina.”
Michael shrugged. “You know she loves children.”
“What about Agatha?”
He sighed. “I...didn’t get a chance to speak to her.”
Mel frowned. Agatha didn’t speak to him, did she? He hadn’t known that either.
On one hand, he felt a little vindicated. It was less than what Michael deserved, for what he had done. But on the other hand, he was worried for him. He knew what it was like to be cut off from his sisters.
