Once again, he was speaking from experience. Before understanding what it meant to be an Angel, his many pratfalls had taught him that his body was bound by very few limits. On the other hand, pain was just as intense as on Earth, even if it didn’t last nearly as long.
He helped Allison to her feet. She was still wobbly for a few seconds, but then finally regained her balance.
“Ouch! OK, what now?”
“We try again.”
Her whole body grew tense.
“Are you crazy?” she asked. “I already smashed into the door once; there’s no way I’m going to do it again!”
“You’re going to have to learn how to walk through walls at some point, Allison,” Jeremy lectured patiently. “If not, your time here will really seem very, very long!”
“No,” Allison snapped stubbornly. She crossed her arms across her chest with difficulty. “There’s no way I can … aaah!”
The heck with good manners, Jeremy decided, and brusquely shoved the young woman forward through the wall before she could even peep in complaint. He sighed in resignation, then followed her through, expecting a thorough haranguing when he arrived in the club. But Allison was so blown away by the sight of the floating tables, where the Angels were talking, squabbling and laughing loudly, that she forgot to berate him.
“Welcome to Rose’s & Blues,” he said, all smiles.
Allison quickly snapped out of it and gave him a dirty look.
“If you ever pull a stunt like that again I’ll make you regret you were ever bo—ever died, you got that?” she said, stabbing her finger into his chest.
“Ach, you finally met your Liebchen, I see,” said a voice nearby. “Gut, gut.”
Albert had grown a few inches and even put on some weight. He could probably pass for fourteen now rather than a tenyear-old. Before Allison could respond, he gently took hold of her hand, clicked his heels (which made him look slightly ridiculous since he was wearing tennis shoes), leaned over and kissed her hand. The perfect gentleman.
“Einstein. Albert Einstein, very pleased to meet you.”
Allison pulled back her hand and looked him over suspiciously.
Albert saw the expression on her face and gave her a disarming smile.
“You have the same name as the …” she ventured.
“No, I don’t have the same name as him, I am him. I have been able to make this body you see (he indicated his teenage physique) become younger, but you will never need to follow my example, since you passed over at such a tender age. You will just have to take my word for it: Old age is only charming in fairy tales!”
He explained to her how he had transformed his body (including his now-famous quick-changing act with his clothes), completely subjugating Allison as he led her over to a comfortable sofa. Actually, they only looked comfortable, since all the surfaces the Angels sat on (except for the furniture they made themselves) remained rigid and uncomfortable.
In a corner of the huge room, a group of red Angels were making a lot of noise. They looked excited about something. Albert gave them a worried look.
“I’m glad you came, Jeremy,” he whispered furtively. “I was just about to go looking for you.”
“For me?” Jeremy asked in surprise. “Why me?”
Albert bent his head even closer to announce the shocking news: “Because I think the red Angels are about to declare war on us!”
11
The Taste of Beauty
“Declare … declare what?” Jeremy finally managed to say, stunned by Albert’s words.
“Sorry,” he replied mischievously. “I couldn’t resist. That may have been a bit melodramatic, I admit. But quite true, all the same. You’ve seen for yourself how we treat the living, haven’t you, Jeremy?”
Allison looked worriedly at Jeremy.
“How we treat the living?” she interrupted. “You mean, besides eating their emotions?”
Albert answered for him.
“We influence them, liebchen, we provoke emotional responses from them in order to feed ourselves. We actively encourage progress in science and medicine, because the more living there are who … well, who live, the more food there is for us. When they’re dead, they’re not of much use anymore. But for the past few years, we’ve noticed that there are more and more red Angels. They’re not always dark red, but they’re still Reds. Angels who, in their past lives, were very anxious, and who had suffered a great deal. Once they pass over, they then feed on negative emotions. We’re doing our best to reverse the trend, but it’s a vicious circle: There are more and more red Angels, who in turn provoke more and more negative emotions in the living, and then when they die they become Reds as well. This may please the Angels, but the living are increasingly unhappy. Until now, we’ve managed to create an equilibrium of sorts, with periods of war, anxiety, and stress to feed the Reds, then times of peace, serenity, and reconstruction to feed the Blues. Unfortunately, the red Angels are in a dominant position right now. And when the next Congress meets in Washington, they want to—”
“Wait a second,” interrupted Jeremy, who could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You mean that you decide on the fate of billions of humans at some sort of congress? But that’s … that’s completely insane! Why don’t you just leave them alone? Aren’t their lives filled with enough emotions to feed everybody, without having to prod them along like a bunch of cattle?”
Einstein shook his head sadly.
“No, alas. Left to their own designs, the living tend to make do with vey little. Plop them down in front of a television set and you end up with an apathetic, almost lifeless group of people.”
“Granted,” Jeremy countered. “But you can’t fight against television!”
“Oh yes, you most certainly can,” Einstein replied. “Whole armies of red Angels work on television producers. They exert their influence so that the films and TV shows are so incredibly pathetic and detestable that the viewers become ornery just by watching them. When they switch off the set they’re practically hysterical. They do the same for professional sports. Reds everywhere keep sports stars from sleeping properly, constantly whispering bad ideas in their ears and encouraging them to adopt bad habits. Humans hate watching them lose and that makes them even sadder and more aggressive. Just think of those hooligans and their soccer teams. It really is so easy to control the living, you know!”
He shook his head sadly again.
“I’m not so sure how easy it is,” Jeremy grumbled. “I couldn’t save Allison’s life, even though I tried everything I could!”
“But you’re still a baby Angel, Jeremy,” Albert replied with a sardonic smile. “Your power of persuasion is still incredibly weak! Believe me. After you’ve been here for a few centuries, you’ll be able to influence any human you want; you’ll see.”
Allison couldn’t contain herself any longer.
“But what you’re saying is disgusting! You make it sound as if the living are nothing more than … than mice in a laboratory that you can influence, and milk them or something!”
“You can milk cows, or sheep, I suppose. Milking a mouse would be—”
“And nobody here—not one single Angel—has ever rebelled?” Allison interrupted, even more furious now.
Albert didn’t give her the chance to continue: He tore off a piece of his sleeve and stuffed it into her mouth. Allison was about to spit it back out when the Mist began melting on her tongue. For the first time in her new life, the young Angel got a taste of the celestial manna.
The sensations were indescribable, as if all the happiness, joy, and pleasure in the universe were flowing down her throat. Later, when she and Jeremy would compare their experiences, they realized that they didn’t like exactly the same things. After the feelings of accomplishment, pride, and joy, the flavors that exploded in her mouth were totally different from his: a scrumptious raspberry cupcake; a warm, creamy marshmallow sauce dripping off a banana split; a firm red apple dipped in hot, sa
lty caramel with cashews and a pistachio cream sauce; spaghetti with meat sauce from Guido’s, the spicy tomato sauce with just a hint of thyme, so thick that the fork would stand up in it; sweet potatoes; onion fritters so light on her tongue that they could have floated on air … it was a true taste explosion.
“Oh,” she whispered, her eyes wide, overwhelmed with pleasure. “Give me some more!”
Albert sighed and gave her another piece of his sleeve.
In the end, the scientist was nearly naked as Allison stuffed piece after piece into her mouth. When she had finally had her fill, all he had left was a pair of cut-off shorts and his shoes, his skinny ribs bared for all to see.
Suddenly realizing how greedy she had been, Allison hiccupped with embarrassment, still overwhelmed by the experience. But like Jeremy before her, she refrained from losing herself in ecstasy and forgetting her humanity. Albert nodded in approval.
“Now do you understand better, liebchen?”
“It’s like a drug, isn’t it?” said a voice behind Jeremy. “The most wonderful drug ever. And the most indispensable. Because we need it to survive.”
Noting the sullen look on Albert’s face, Jeremy turned around slowly and discovered a familiar face.
Flint!
He threw his arms around the former Roman centurion, catching him by surprise, and gave him a warm hug.
“Flint, my good friend!” he exclaimed. “How are you?”
Amused by the display, the centurion returned his hug. The muscular young man was just as elegantly dressed as he had been the first time they met. He had given his understated, navy-blue suit a whimsical touch with a purple pocket-handkerchief. It was quite a contrast with Jeremy’s skimpy loincloth. Flint still had the same imposing aura of power about him as well, but this time his overall color was an extremely light blue, almost colorless. But it would have been impossible to mistake him for a Newcomer.
“This is Flint,” Jeremy repeated unnecessarily. “He was the first person to greet me when I passed over. He’s the one who explained to me how things work here.”
Flint’s face lit up when Jeremy introduced him to Allison. He bent low over the girl’s hand with great gallantry, making her blush.
“I can see by your pink, peachy complexion that you passed over very recently, miss,” he declared.
Jeremy frowned: her pink, peachy complexion?
Allison only nodded, not sure she could control her voice due to the overwhelming charisma of the blue Angel. It was almost palpable.
Flint came closer and flashed a devastating smile.
“It’s been quite some time since I’ve met such a charming Angel. Welcome to your new home!”
“Th … thank you,” Allison managed to say. “Everything is so … so …”
“Astonishing, incredible, overwhelming; yes, I know. And there are thousands of absolutely wonderful things to do here …”
He looked down condescendingly at Albert, who suddenly seemed completely absorbed by something going on behind Flint’s back. Something that was making him uneasy.
“… despite what certain killjoys may say—with all due respect, of course!”
A bit taken aback, Jeremy tried to see what had captured Albert’s attention. Suddenly, he felt as if his heart had stopped beating in his chest.
Albert wasn’t staring at some thing.
He was staring at a girl. For a long moment, Jeremy was completely dazzled, overwhelmed by her beauty. She hardly looked eighteen, and was the most perfect incarnation of beauty he had ever seen. She was radiating an absolute purity. Her flaming red hair fell down below her round hips, her lips were garnet red, her eyes a pure, bottomless green, like the first tender leaves of spring. When she smiled his knees went weak. Her nose would have made Cleopatra livid with jealousy. Her long, smooth legs seemed to go on forever. Her complexion was a light bronze, as if she had been kissed by a golden sun, and she had the same light-blue skin as the two young Angels sitting at the table. Jeremy tried not to stare at her high, firm breasts and her flat stomach, because she was wearing the same thing as Allison: a high-cut loincloth and a miniscule band that covered her breasts.
He swallowed hard, doing everything in his power to keep his eyes from popping out of his skull and his tongue from dropping to the floor.
Next to him, Allison took a deep breath. With Clark, she had met many famous models of both sexes, but in this case, there could be no comparison. This girl was on a whole different playing field.
“Lili, my dear, come say hello to my friends,” Flint said. “This is Lili, a very dear friend of mine, who, alas, I don’t get to see nearly as often as I like. She travels a great deal.”
Lili held out her slender hand to Jeremy, whose brain took a moment to kick in. He finally held out his own and shook hers. He felt as if he were holding a ball of fire, which, instead of burning him, filled him with joy and well-being.
“Hello,” Lili said in a melodious voice. “How are you?”
Ugh! Even her voice was perfect. Jeremy’s mouth went dry when he realized that he would have to reply.
“Fine …” he croaked. “Just fine … Miss.”
“Please, call me Lili,” she said with a mischievous wink.
“Oh … yeah, right, Lili. I’m doing fine. And you? How are you?”
The rare brain cells in his head that were still operational sent him an urgent message: “You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the most beautiful woman in the universe—in every universe!” But Lili must have been used to transforming men’s brains into mush, because she thanked him most decorously and said that she was doing well.
Completely at ease, she gave Allison a friendly handshake as well. The two young Angels exchanged a glance, completely overwhelmed by the charisma and power emanating from the older Angels. Lili was at least as old as Flint; Jeremy could tell somehow.
She was the type of girl that made you forget everything: duty, family, honor. She was Don José’s Carmen, Odysseus’s Circe, d’Artagnan’s Milady. She was sublime and, without a doubt, extremely dangerous.
And also deliciously tempting.
“What are you doing here?” Albert asked coldly. “If I remember correctly, you said that Rose’s & Blues was a—how did you put it? ‘A pathetic dive filled with closed-minded, anal-retentive baby Angels,’ or some such thing. Have you descended from your superior caste to indulge in some playtime with us kindergartners?”
Jeremy’s ears perked up. Caste? What caste? Were there different castes of Angels? And he had thought that death was the great equalizer!
Flint smiled at the physicist, baring his perfect, white teeth.
“Now now, Albert my boy, you shouldn’t be so jealous. We refused your candidacy because you’re still so young. Galileo has joined us, however. Be patient. In another few hundred years you’ll be one of us.”
Albert made a long face.
“If it means getting stuck with that foul-mouthed Italian clown, no thank you!”
Albert inclined his head slightly at Jeremy and Allison before slipping away. An enchanting laugh escaped from Lili’s lips.
“That was awfully naughty of you, Flint. I’m quite fond of Albert. He’s very intelligent, you know!”
Flint threw up his hands in exasperation.
“Yes, I know! He’s just dying to decipher all the mysteries.” He made the quotation mark sign with his fingers. “When we finally accept him, he’ll spend the next fifty years boring us to death with his questions. I’m certainly in no hurry for that!”
Then he turned his attention back to Allison, his eyes ablaze. The poor girl could hardly breathe.
“But luckily, we still have many years ahead of use before that tiresome moment arrives. While we’re waiting, since I feel partially responsible for Jeremy, I would like to invite the two of you, my young friends, to be our guests. Will you permit us to give you a taste of what is possible in this universe, when you want to have some fun? Death is only the beginnin
g!”
Allison simply couldn’t resist Flint’s charm, but she still had the firm intention of having a talk with him about the disgusting way Angels exploited human emotions.
Maybe later …
Lili made herself a magnificent white dress that clung to her body like a second skin, and Flint changed into a dark-blue tuxedo. They didn’t think of offering a change of clothes to Jeremy and Allison, who remained in their loincloths.
Jeremy suspected that Flint was more than happy to keep Allison in her skimpy outfit, considering the way he kept ogling her fulsome cleavage and long legs. Jeremy felt uneasy, and remained on his guard. He had seen too many movies with old perverts who lead young girls astray. They rarely had happy endings.
For the young girls, that is.
And yet, the place where Lili and Flint took them was anything but disreputable. In fact, except for obtaining Mist, there probably wasn’t anything in this strange world that could ever cause the least little concern for the two of them. The place was an abandoned loft at least twice as large as Rose’s & Blues. In fact, it wasn’t too far away from the club. But here, there were no living people, only Angels. Hundreds of Angels. They had completely redecorated the loft with large wall hangings, comfortable sofas, and overstuffed armchairs facing an immense stage. Just the thought of all the work it must have taken to make the furnishings and decorations made Jeremy suddenly feel very small. He still had a long way to go before he would be able to transform the Mist with such virtuosity. Another thing that amazed him was how the Angels here had no problem conserving their vaporous creations. He could sense it was so.
As for Allison, she may have been dead but she was still a girl: She was happy and reassured when she saw that many of the Angels were dressed just as simply as she was. But many of them, especially the women, were wearing incredible creations that must have been made by top designers—deceased designers, that is.
The four of them sat down on a large purple sofa. Lili and Flint exchanged greetings with scads of Angels of all different colors, who had all come for the same reason: to see the shows. The biggest stars in entertainment history came out on stage one after the other. The musicians had managed to create most of the instruments they had played on Earth. The piano alone must have required at least a dozen Angels to make.
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