Color of Angels' Souls

by Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  THE COLOR OF ANGELS’ SOULS

  A Novel

  Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  Contents

  The Different Colors of Mist

  1: The Taste of Death

  2: The Taste of Feelings

  3: The Taste of Evil

  4: The Taste of Guilt

  5: The Taste of Others

  6: The Taste of Desire

  7: The Taste of Fear

  8: The Taste of Madness

  9: The Taste of Futility

  10: The Taste of the Beyond

  11: The Taste of Beauty

  12: The Taste of Experience

  13: The Taste of Blood

  14: The Taste of Danger

  15: The Taste of Longing

  16: The Taste of Betrayal

  17: The Taste of Power

  18: The Taste of Temptation

  19: The Taste of Red

  20: The Taste of Love

  Acknowledgments

  THE DIFFERENT COLORS OF MIST

  Positive emotions of the living

  Crystal blue for loyalty

  White for satisfaction, a feeling of accomplishment

  Silvery gray for compassion, empathy

  Light blue for elation

  Turquoise for healthy desire

  Dark blue for love

  Light purple for happiness

  Dark purple for positive excitement

  Gold for victory, complete fulfillment

  Negative emotions of the living

  Green for jealousy

  Yellow for envy

  Light pink for irritation, the first signs of anger

  or for unhealthy desire

  Dark pink for unhealthy excitement

  Light red for anger

  Dark red for unhealthy anger

  Orange for revenge, vengeance

  Light brown for sadness, slightly guilty feelings

  Dark brown for extreme fright or intense sadness

  Black for murder or perverse desires

  1

  The Taste of Death

  Jeremy was dead.

  His head had been cut off by a samurai.

  In downtown Manhattan, in the twenty-first century.

  In a state of shock, his mind reeling, Jeremy stared down at the body—his body. He was anything but a coward, but he had never been so terrified in all his life. A deep, dark fear gripped him, a primordial sense of dread.

  Then he was startled by a man’s cheery voice: “Well hello there, Angel!” it called out behind him. “Welcome to the land of the dead!”

  What had happened was finally sinking in. He ignored the stranger. In a complete daze, he looked down at his lifeless body. A small stream of blood was lazily making its way down the sidewalk and coagulating in a puddle, like a big tub of cranberry ice cream. Strangely enough, it made him hungry for a second, but the sensation soon subsided without completely going away.

  He tried to remember what had happened.

  He had been interviewed earlier that evening by one of the major television networks and afterward, he had been strolling along, slowly making his way back to his apartment. Jeremy was twenty-three years old, a young financial wizard who had come over to New York from his home country, France. He had finished high school at the age of fourteen, immediately gone on to college, and when he was only eighteen, had published his first thesis paper. It explained a new equation he had developed for adapting investments to market fluctuations. Even his enemies had to admit that he was a rising star in the field, and his name was often in the headlines. The specialists often praised his astonishing intuition, and were already calling him “the next Warren Buffett.”

  Jeremy lived not far from the Pierre, a legendary hotel across from Central Park. The entrance to his building was right next door, and he felt safe coming home late at night due to the constant comings and goings at the hotel. But on this particular night, the sidewalk along Fifth Avenue where he was walking was deserted and dark. Strangely enough, it looked as if many of the streetlights along the avenue had been broken. It was close to midnight, but instead of playing it safe and walking on the residential side of the street, Jeremy had been strolling along the edge of the enormous park, relishing the fresh, clean fragrances of the tall trees. He was almost across from his building when …

  A girl. There had been a girl. A pretty blonde. Scared to death.

  She had walked up to him, but it was hard to make her out in the dark. There was a small white rectangle in her hand. That was when he felt a heavy blow to his neck and intense pain. His head fell to the pavement—before his body.

  He had been blinded almost immediately, but still had the time to make out the blade of a long sword flashing by. Jeremy had seen the girl streak past too. She had screamed. The murderer had rushed towardher, but had tripped over Jeremy’s head in the dark and sent it flying into the gutter, giving his prey just enough time to flee.

  And then he was really dead. He had gone over to the other side, at a loss to understand what was going on, and could only watch in shock what happened next. A police car had turned into the street just then, and the murderer had muttered an oath under his breath and melted away into the shadows of the park, like a poorly drawn sketch that you quickly erase. Jeremy had only had time to make out the long kimono the man had been wearing over an elegant black suit. Then he pulled off the kimono and sped away in the night. Jeremy had also gotten a glimpse of the man’s face: He was of mixed race, but looked vaguely Asian. His black mustache drooped down over the corners of his mouth and his eyes were burning with hate. For some strange reason he had made Jeremy think of Genghis Khan. He had the same chiseled features as the Mongols who overran about half the civilized world back in the thirteenth century.

  Now Jeremy was petrified, incapable of thinking or moving, incapable of using his brain at all. He looked around him. The street now seemed incredibly bright. It was as if a weird aura was glowing around everything. The light made him wince—it was much too intense, as were all the noises around him. It was as if the eyes and ears of the soul, once freed from flesh, could perceive things much more intensely.

  He was still terrified when he turned to face the … what was it he was facing, anyway?

  Another Angel?

  “Mmmppfmmgmgggllmm,” he muttered, as a bunch of inarticulate sounds escaped from his lips.

  “Ah,” the man chirped, as a horrified Jeremy quickly clamped his mouth shut. “Take it easy now. You don’t have any air in your lungs. Just give them some time to learn how to breathe again. You have to form the words in your mouth, without trying to say them out loud. You’ll see, they’ll come out all by themselves. It’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

  Eyes wide, Jeremy did as he was told. But it was difficult at first.

  “Wass, what’s going on?”

  The guy was wrong—there was nothing easy about it!

  “Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” the stranger quipped.

  Jeremy could only stare at him, impervious to any attempts at humor.

  “Oh. I can see you’re still a bit overwhelmed by it all. To make a long story short then, I was just passing by when I noticed that you were about to get your head sliced off. So I decided to wait. That’s a pretty traumatic way to die, so I figured someone would need to explain to you what had happened. Looks like my hunch was right—the guy did knock you off. Quite an original way to go, actually. I hadn’t seen anything like that for quite some time. So I will now proclaim that you are officially deceased.”

  “And whuh … what’s the good news?” Jeremy finally managed to spit out.

  “That was the good news. The bad news is that you’re not t
he only one.”

  He made a gesture at the crowd of people all around them, and Jeremy suddenly realized that there were thousands of people—ghosts, Angels, whatever you wanted to call them—in the street, walking, laughing, crying, running, jumping … even flying through the air. It was complete chaos.

  The strangest thing about the people was all their different colors. Some were cloaked in a beautiful, dark purple color, much like the color of the summer sky at dusk. Others were a bright red, so intense that it hurt his eyes. In between he could make out all different shades of blues, and also reds that ranged from the lightest pink emanating from the living to a fiery reddish-orange. The man talking to him was blue. Curious now, Jeremy looked down at his own skin. Ah, it was a light blue, with a few hints of pink and a little bit of orange.

  Jeremy looked up again. The world had changed as well. When he looked at the sky, up above the buildings filled with sleeping people, he could see strange vapors rising into the night. There were white mists, and mists tinged with all different colors, and he could also see silhouettes flittering about in their midst, as if they were warming themselves in the vapors, excitedly performing some intricate dance.

  The whole scene seemed to be shimmering before his eyes, pulsating like a giant, slowly beating heart. He was struck once again by how incredibly clear everything looked. Even though it was nighttime, he could clearly distinguish all the buildings on Broadway down to the last little detail—even the ones a few miles down were as clear as if they were right in front of him!

  Suddenly realizing that his jaw had dropped, he quickly closed his mouth.

  “Oh yes,” the man sniggered, “I know how surprising it all is. Now, let’s go over a few basic rules, shall we? Do you have any idea how many human beings have died since our species has existed?”

  Still not trusting his voice, Jeremy just shook his head.

  “Approximately eighty billion, if we include our cousins—the Neanderthals and their lot. That’s a lot of people. But there aren’t nearly that many of us. I would estimate that there are about as many of us as there are human beings currently living on Earth. A mere six and a half billion. As for me, I passed over in 451 A.D.”

  “Passed over?”

  “Exactly. That’s how we refer to our arrival here. We pass over. And when we introduce ourselves to someone, we say: ‘Hello, my name is Decarus Pompei, but you can call me Flint. I passed over in 451 A.D.’ It helps us to keep track of everybody. So, how about you?”

  “Name’s Jeremy. I passed over … uh, just now.”

  Flint gave him a warm smile and held out his hand.

  Without thinking, Jeremy grasped hold of it. The hand that squeezed his own felt just like a living one. He could even feel the bones beneath his fingers. He instantly clutched hold of Flint’s hand as if his life depended on it.

  “Easy now,” Flint said. “Feeling a bit low? Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

  Tears started to stream down Jeremy’s cheeks and his knees grew weak. He began to slump over on the ground, still clinging to Flint’s hand. Flint had no choice but to crouch down next to him. He waited patiently for a moment, letting the fear wash over Jeremy as he tried to help the young man calm down.

  “Um, do you think I could have my hand back now?” he finally asked.

  But Jeremy had been seized by more than just simple fear. A crushing, all-encompassing wave of terror had grabbed hold of him, and he felt as if Flint’s hand was the only real thing he could clutch on to. There was no way he could even imagine letting go of it.

  “Why?” he stammered. “Why? I’m too young. It’s not fair. I’m too young to die!”

  “You were young. And what’s more you’ll remain young for all eternity. When you see the sorry state that most of the dead are in, you’ll consider yourself lucky to have passed over at such an early age, believe me!”

  When Jeremy tried to wipe off his face he suddenly realized that he was holding someone’s hand. He finally released it, to Flint’s great relief.

  “I … I’m crying?” Jeremy finally gasped.

  “You sure are. We can do all sorts of things—even cry.”

  “Tears?” Jeremy asked, still incredulous.

  For some reason, he never would have thought that dead people could cry. Even though they certainly had a good reason to!

  Flint held out a tissue.

  “Here,” he sighed. “I can make myself another one.”

  “Thanks,” Jeremy said, still running on autopilot.

  He blew his nose, took several deep breaths, and his brain finally kicked in.

  “How is it possible?” he asked, looking incredulously at the tissue in his hand.

  “We’re Angels!”

  Jeremy closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel the fear and dizziness welling up inside him, then summoned up the strength to fight it off. His question had been much more metaphysical than Flint had imagined, and the answer was way too vague.

  “So we’re Angels, who can cry. And blow our noses with Kleenexes. And … ?”

  “And we also have a few special powers. Our more senior members have the ability to create a few useful objects. The only problem is they don’t last very long. I’ve already had that tissue for a few days. If I were you, I would set it down now.”

  Jeremy obeyed. The tissue curled up into a ball and disappeared. It left a slight trace behind, which eventually disappeared as well.

  Jeremy was soon lost in his thoughts again. Flint sighed. Even he still didn’t completely understand all the rules that governed this strange world he had inhabited for centuries.

  “Only the living can pass … er, only people who die, I mean, can pass over to this dimension. Which is why you’re naked, actually.”

  “What?”

  Jeremy had been so shocked by what had happened that he hadn’t even realized he wasn’t wearing anything. He immediately bent over and covered up his nudity.

  “Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” Flint told him. “And whatever you do, don’t let anyone come near you. It could be dangerous.”

  Jeremy couldn’t bear the thought of being left alone, but before he had time to protest Flint had hurried off to the shimmering mists that were emanating from the houses and apartment buildings.

  As Jeremy remained in place, still crouching over awkwardly to cover himself, Flint’s final word suddenly hit home: “Dangerous?” What did he mean by dangerous? What could possibly be more dangerous than already being dead?

  With a shiver, he turned his eyes away from Flint and began observing the Angels that were dancing along the street and above him in the sky. One was so bright red that he looked like a little sun about to go supernova. He roughly pushed aside the others and began devouring the thick, ruby-red smoke that was pouring out of one of the buildings. At first he snarled with satisfaction, but his smile soon tensed up in a horrible grimace. The other Angels quickly scattered as the bright red Angel raised his head and began howling in agony. Then there was a loud “POP!”, as if someone had uncorked a giant bottle of champagne, and he disappeared! Jeremy was stunned. He looked closely at the spot where the Angel had been just a few seconds before … no, he hadn’t been dreaming; the Angel had disappeared into thin air. And judging by the pain he’d been in, it didn’t look as if he’d popped off by choice.

  Flint walked back over carrying a nice suit, underclothes, and even a pair of shoes.

  “I had to use the Mist to make them. They’ll disappear pretty quickly though, so you’ll have to find another old Angel to make some more for you. Or you’ll just have to go al fresco.”

  Now that he mentioned it, Jeremy noticed that many of the Angels were naked—and hardly seemed bothered by the fact. He couldn’t help making a face as he took the clothes from Flint and quickly got dressed, grateful to the man. The clothes had a strange texture, and felt warm to the touch. He felt uneasy for some reason, but quickly forgot about it as Flint began talking to him.


  “I didn’t have enough Mist with me, so I had to go get some more to make your suit. I noticed that you were wearing a suit before you passed over. You can ask other people to help you, or to make all sorts of clothes for you. And in a few years you’ll be able to make them by yourself. A lot of us just wear a loincloth or a toga. It makes things a lot easier. Plus the temperature never changes here. Between you and me, I think you’ll probably be more comfortable if you dress a little bit lighter, but I know that a set of clothes is always reassuring for the Cherubs.”

  “The Cherubs?”

  How weird. Jeremy had always thought a Cherub was a chubby little Angel with pink little butt cheeks and a mischievous smile.

  “Yes, that’s what we call the Newbies.”

  Jeremy sized up Flint as he made a few adjustments to his jacket, which was a bit large in the shoulders.

  He was tall and dark, with a gleam in his gray eyes so incredibly intense that it almost seemed unnatural. He looked to be about the same age as Jeremy. Well, he’d certainly held up well for a guy about to celebrate his 1,460th birthday! There was a natural, unassuming elegance about him, and apparently he had cheerfully accepted the task of helping out one of the “Newbies.” There was also something charismatic and powerful about him, an energy he gave off that seemed almost palpable and made you want to trust him and do what he said.

  A shiver passed through Jeremy and he fought off the urge, slowly coming to his senses. From his experience in the business world, a world without pity, he knew that no one did anything if they didn’t expect something in return. But he didn’t want Flint to get the feeling he mistrusted him. Jeremy’s face was expressionless when he finally looked him in the eyes.

  “Thanks for your help, Flint. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “I’ve seen quite a few Angels lose their heads in my time—I mean, not literally, not like you, but after their disembodiment—and believe me, it’s not a pretty sight,” Flint winced. “So now whenever a new dead person arrives and I happen to be nearby, I give them a hand. It’s the least I can do. Most of us do the same thing. It’s like a rebirth. You’re a newborn who awakens in a whole new world, afraid and lost. It’s only normal to help out. You’ll do the same one day.”