Color of Angels' Souls

by Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  He clapped his hand over Lili’s mouth to stop her from talking, and her big green eyes grew wide with surprise as he began to caress her again. She abandoned herself to the pleasure, no longer caring about any questions. She had quite simply forgotten them.

  Before making love to Lili, Jeremy had hesitated because of the golden spot around his navel that had been growing larger with each passing day. He wasn’t sure why, but he had been uneasy about how she would react. It turned out he’d been worried all for nothing though, because when he ripped off his clothes, he noticed that the golden circle on his stomach had completely disappeared.

  Early the next morning, while Lili was sleeping like a completely content little Angel, what Jeremy had figured would happen finally did happen.

  Flint entered the room where the two of them were laying in bed, naked.

  And behind him was Allison. The blue Angel had turned completely red, from head to toe.

  And was now scowling at the two lovers with utter contempt.

  16

  The Taste of Betrayal

  The night she had disappeared three months earlier, Allison hadn’t been able to sleep. She was still too shaken up by the combat between the two Reds at the arena, and by her own reaction.

  Childish. Stupid. Idiotic. She had behaved like a four-year-old. The complete opposite of what she really felt inside.

  She smoothed out the blue sheet on the bed, lost in her thoughts, when suddenly she had a vision of two naked bodies locked in a tight embrace. That shook her up even more. For the first time in either of her lives, Allison was filled with a burning desire for a man, feelings so overwhelming that she had to shout at herself to keep from jumping out of bed and racing in to Jeremy’s room. She took a deep breath, tried to calm down, but each time she managed to subdue the rage and thirst for vengeance that were quickly becoming an obsession, she was immediately filled with passion for Jeremy, and it made her tremble all over.

  “OK now, Allison, you’ve got to get a grip on yourself. Yes, he’s incredibly handsome; yes, he died because of you; yes, he’s absolutely crazy about you, and yes, yes, you want him so badly you can almost taste it! So what’s stopping you from running into his arms this instant? Huh? Nothing. Nothing at all … except that goddamn promise that’s been hammered into your head!”

  She had to concentrate on her mission. Save millions of lives, bring joy to hundreds of suffering families. But instead of Ventousi, all she could think about was Jeremy. She could still feel his firm muscles contracting beneath her hand when he made her listen to his heartbeat.

  A heart that beat only for her, he had said.

  And why couldn’t she have both? Love and vengeance? After all, there was no reason they couldn’t try to influence the police, instead of trying to force Ventousi to reveal the formula for his miracle drug. An old Blue could manipulate the inspectors, lead them along in their investigation. It wouldn’t be that hard to find the link between Ventousi’s colleague, Allison, and Jeremy, would it? Then Ventousi would no longer have any reason to keep the new drug hidden: He would be in prison and would need the money. He probably wouldn’t become a billionaire, since he would no longer be able to buy back his father’s company, but he would still be rich and have a cozy little prison cell.

  Allison grinned, suddenly feeling at peace with herself. Yes. She could keep her promise without becoming a Red! When Flint had made the suggestion, they had been surrounded by red and blue Angels whose power and charisma had made the hairs on her arm stand up. She had quickly jumped at the chance to take action, but Jeremy was right: It was a bad idea. It was impossible to do bad things in the hopes of accomplishing good things. She would only make a mess of everything. She hadn’t said that to Jeremy of course, but only because she had been in no mood to agree with him. Which was why a whole series of colorful insults were now running through her head as she berated herself.

  Just when she was about to get out of bed to go see Jeremy, she suddenly froze: There was a rustling sound in her room. Had Jeremy had the same idea? No, it wasn’t Jeremy who was standing next to her bed in the darkness, staring down at her with his gleaming gray eyes. It was Flint.

  Allison could hardly breathe. At that precise moment, Flint was probably the last person she wanted to see standing in her room. And see taking a seat next to her on the bed.

  “You and I have to talk,” he whispered to make sure Jeremy couldn’t overhear them.

  “About what?” mumbled Allison, struck once again by the blue Angel’s charisma, and terribly conscious of the fact that she was naked beneath the Mist sheets.

  “About what you really and truly desire, little Angel. You only died a short while ago. I want you to know that I perfectly understand your thirst for revenge. When I myself was killed, I was incensed for many years. I would have done anything to get vengeance, all the more so since my family was sold into slavery after my death and I had to wait many years before they passed over. But later on I realized that it actually wasn’t that important. Our new life here can be so wonderful, my dear, sweet little Angel!”

  He leaned close, rubbing against her thighs.

  “With so much for you to discover,” he whispered, his lips now right next to hers.

  She recoiled in fear. Flint also pulled back, careful to conceal any sign of annoyance.

  “I … I don’t want to get any vengeance,” she said in a small, stuttering voice. “I was just … very very angry and the fight tonight was so … so violent! There was so much rage and hatred in those two Reds, I think it may have clouded my mind. And affected my feelings.”

  “Is that right?” Flint frowned. “What do you want to do then?”

  Allison told him her plan. Flint listened attentively, but only shook his head.

  “He won’t do it. Ventousi has killed three people in order to take over his father’s business. He’d much rather go to prison for thirty years, get paroled after twenty for good conduct, and only then reveal the new drug after he’s gotten what he wanted. I know what people like him are like. Your plan won’t work, and while he’s waiting in prison for his big chance, millions of people will die of cancer, just like your mother.”

  Allison bit her lip. Flint really had a way with words, unfortunately. He placed an understanding hand on her shoulder and gave her a knowing grin.

  “You know why I want to help you, don’t you?”

  Allison immediately felt her mind drifting off, as if she were floating in the clouds for a few seconds.

  “Because you’re bored,” she replied meekly.

  “And because you’re so delectable, and I want you so badly. It’s so rare for a beautiful young virgin to die at your age today. To teach you the arts of love would be my greatest reward!”

  Allison instantly tensed up, chasing the clouds away from her mind. Flint increased the pressure on her shoulder and the young girl was once again filled with rage. Against Flint who wanted her to give in to him, against Jeremy who wanted to trap her with his love, against Ventousi who had killed her. She knelt on the bed, ignoring the sheet as it slipped off of her, and stared resolutely into Flint’s gray eyes.

  “Very well then!” she snapped. “I’ll make you a deal: You make Ventousi reveal his secret formula, I don’t care how, and then have him thrown in jail. And if I have to turn red, green, or purple to do it, I don’t give a shit! If we’re successful, I’ll sleep with you.”

  Flint grinned, his eyes fixed on her beautiful, tempting breasts.

  “No,” he countered. “You’ll become my slave. You will belong to me, and only me, for the next one hundred years. You’ll satisfy all my desires. Without a word. Without a complaint. Your heart and your body will be mine.”

  Allison grew pale. It was like making a pact with the Devil … and yet, Flint had proven time and time again that he didn’t want to harm her, nor Jeremy, and his magnificent blue color proved that he wasn’t evil. These thoughts didn’t do much to reassure her, though. Probably becaus
e of that word he had used: “slave.”

  He released his grip on her shoulder and took her by the hand.

  “Well then? Do we have a deal?”

  Allison’s desire for vengeance was too strong; it blocked out all the rest. She shuddered and gave him a cold smile.

  “Ten years.”

  “That’s not nearly enough. Eighty.”

  “That’s too long. Fifteen.”

  “No, no, no,” Flint said, waving a finger at her. “I’m not a used car salesman, my pretty little Allison.”

  And yet he was willing to haggle; that much was clear.

  “Fifty years. And that’s my final offer,” he said, staring her right back in the eyes.

  Allison could tell he wouldn’t budge. He wanted her at his mercy. For years and years and years. She forced her body to stop shaking.

  “We have a deal,” she replied sullenly. She had a bad feeling inside, as if she had just sold her soul. “But until then, no more seduction, no more hypnotic spells, and you quit trying to get me in your bed. Is that clear?”

  Before she had time to react, Flint crushed her lips against his with an arrogant brutality, kissing her until she couldn’t repress a moan. His kiss was nothing like Jeremy’s, but the sensuality he sent through her left her panting. She felt sick, but also on fire.

  “Just a little down payment,” Flint smiled while she tried to regain her breath. “And yes, my delicious, irresistible Allison, we have a deal. Even if I would prefer you in blue, I think you’ll look absolutely fabulous in red!”

  Flint was wary of any influence Jeremy might have on Allison. In fact, his one and only goal at that moment was to finally get Allison into his bed. It had been centuries since anyone had been able to resist him and he found the whole situation delightfully absurd.

  It was also deeply disturbing for him. His life—his afterlife—was quite simple: He delighted in blocking the plans of his enemy, and had been enjoying himself immensely playing this little game for hundreds of years now, staving off boredom and the danger of disappearing. When he met Jeremy, Flint had been struck by something unique about the little Blue. Something different from the other Angels. And he had found that same difference in Allison—in the pure, stubborn, and gorgeous little Allison. He had grown more and more cynical with each passing century, but when he first held the young girl in his arms, he realized that he felt wonderful. From that moment on, he had decided that one day she would be his, and he couldn’t have cared less whether she be blue, red, or white. Flint had been honest with her: He wanted her body, oh yes, but he was even more desperate to possess her soul. She was like a pure mountain stream that Flint, the tired and thirsty soldier, had run across after a long and bloody battle. She made him feel young, full of life again. It was out of the question that he should let Jeremy have such an inestimable treasure. The little Blue was a nice enough fellow, but he would never know how to properly treat someone like Allison. The girl had enormous potential; he could feel it. He would help her get what she wanted so they could forget about her ridiculous obsession, and then … she would be his …

  Not just for a mere fifty years. Oh no.

  For all eternity.

  And so he carried Allison off with no further delay. She protested of course, heartbroken that she couldn’t tell Jeremy about her decision, but Flint was adamant. Out of the question that she should talk to the little Blue. He helped Allison pass through the walls of stone and Mist that she still couldn’t penetrate on her own and took her, to her great surprise, to Washington, D.C.

  In the afterlife, there actually weren’t all that many “active” Angels. The vast majority did nothing but feed off of human emotions, leading a carefree existence in which the only thing that mattered was their Mist, regardless of the color they preferred. And so, after hundreds of years here, Flint knew all the active blue Angels—and also all the red ones. There was one in particular who he knew could solve Allison’s problems. Even if, to be quite frank, he avoided this particular Red like the plague. In fact, everyone avoided him like the plague because he was extremely dangerous and uncontrollable.

  When Allison had seen the red Angel tormenting Jeremy’s little sister and greedily feeding off the little girl’s suffering, she had been appalled. But he had only been a Cherub, after all, even if his twisted mind had transformed him into a monster.

  And he was nothing compared with the ten-foot-tall, horribly obese red Angel who was now glowering down at her.

  “Ave, Caligula,” Flint said with a bow.

  According to the ancient texts, the emperor Caligula had been bloodthirsty, hideous (he was so hairy that it was forbidden to pronounce the word “goat” in his presence), and completely insane (he had been assassinated the day before he was going to make his favorite horse a Roman consul). In the afterlife, he was just as ugly and psychopathic, driven by ferocious, malevolent, unwholesome, and recklessly dangerous penchants. Allison could feel it as she bent low in front of him.

  Completely naked.

  The monstrous fiend had ordered her to undress before he would receive them. He was probably afraid that someone would run him through, after having been assassinated by his Praetorian Guard. They had stabbed him no less than twenty times, so yes, Allison could understand that he might be a bit wary of traitors and knives.

  Caligula wasn’t wearing anything either, but he was so incredibly humongous, and his belly so enormous, that it hung down over his private parts, to Allison’s great relief. He was slumped over on an enormous throne of intricately sculpted red Mist that sat in the middle of a cavernous, uninhabited mansion not far from the Arlington National Cemetery just outside Washington, D.C. He enjoyed the company of the dead, he was fond of saying. His power and charisma were so intense that whenever any living people tried to inhabit the house, they felt so awful that they packed up and left almost immediately. Over the years, Caligula had transformed the place into a twisted sort of Roman temple devoted to his favorite divinity: himself. Because he was still convinced he was a god, just as he had been on Earth.

  “What do you want, Decarus?” he growled. “Did you bring me this blue Cherub here for breakfast?”

  He ran his thick, red tongue—which was much longer than a normal tongue and strangely pointed—over his lips, which had curled into a sulky pout.

  “Uh, no, Your Excellence, this young girl is on a mission of vengeance. She wishes to become red, and then to receive your assistance.”

  Caligula straightened up, with some difficulty.

  “Vengeance?” he asked in a booming voice. “What sort of vengeance? Against an Angel or a living person?”

  “A living person, Your Highness.”

  “Hum! That’s no fun. They’re so easy to kill. Torturing an Angel is so much more amusing!”

  “Of course,” Flint acquiesced without flinching.

  “What about me?” Caligula bellowed. “What do I get in exchange?”

  Flint and Allison quickly exchanged a glance. Allison wasn’t so sure now that she wanted to carry on with her mission. Then she felt a wave of warmth emanating from Flint, almost the same as when he touched her, and she suddenly felt more determined than ever to see the ordeal through to the end.

  “Name your price,” she said in a clear voice.

  The fiend stared hard at her. Then started laughing loudly.

  “Tell me, little one, are you honest, faithful, and loyal? Do you have all these qualities? Do you despise hypocrisy, deceit, pain, suffering, and hatred? Do you like love, happiness, and cute little puppy dogs?”

  The stupidity of his question, together with his tone of voice, made it clear that he was having fun at her expense. Allison didn’t answer.

  Caligula wasn’t offended. On the contrary, when he saw Allison glaring back at him, he only laughed harder.

  “Whew! It’s been years since I’ve laughed so hard!”

  Instantly, Caligula became deadly serious, showing once again his true nature.

&n
bsp; “Here is my price then: I’ll make you forget all those high-minded sentiments, and I will corrupt you beyond all hope of redemption.”

  Flint shot up to his feet.

  “That’s not what I—” he began to protest.

  But Caligula interrupted him with an angry gesture and turned back to Allison.

  “I’m going to give you much more than what Decarus has requested. You will become one of us, little Blue. And you’re going to love it.”

  Before a horrified Allison could object, the emperor struck her with all his might.

  Not with his fists.

  With his mind.

  The Angels, in particular the most ancient among them, had become experts in mind control. Like Flint, Caligula could transfer his power in order to feed Allison.

  And that’s exactly what he did.

  A wave of unbelievable force swept over Allison, who began writhing on the ground from both the pain and the pleasure. Psychotic pleasures. The pleasure of disemboweling a man and feeling his hot blood run through your fingers, and then greedily licking it up like a wild animal. The pleasure of limitless power, bound by no laws, no rules. The pleasure of the strongest, the pleasure of torturing and tormenting and knowing that no one can stop you. Omnipotence.

  Allison fainted.

  What happened next was hard to remember. Trembling with fever, drowning in wave after wave of suffering, she had the vague sensation that time was passing. Flint, calm and composed, never left her side. He wiped the sweat from her brow and the bile from her lips when the horror she was ingurgitating became more than she could physically withstand. He relieved her aching arms and legs, which had grown strangely numb. But each time she broke down and cried, begging him to get her out of there, he brought her back to Caligula.

  And the monster continued to feed her.

  The torture went on for days and nights on end. Unending affliction, mixed with the most poignant pleasures. Then, finally, after yet another powerful wave had struck her, Allison didn’t faint. The clouds cleared from her mind. Under the steely gaze of the mad emperor, she didn’t break, and slowly rose to her feet.