by Nola Cancel
Grabbing her jacket, keys, and travel mug of Starbucks dark roast, Maria got in her 2010 Toyota Celica and hit the gas.
She hadn’t gone half a mile down the hill that led to the Amtrak station and the 9:00 am train, when a deer appeared out of nowhere.
It all happened so fast, like a blur. She didn’t remember the car rolling over three times, or being trapped by her seatbelt as the car burst into flames around her, or those glimpses of her life that most people tell you pass in front of your eyes before you die.
What she did remember, with unwavering clarity, was Michael’s beautiful face when she finally woke up.
At first she thought she must still be asleep, or perhaps she was dead. She had never seen anyone so perfect and she swore—though Michael would later say it was a trick of the light—that he had a luminescence that surrounded him, causing him to appear almost ethereal.
“Who are you? Where am I?” Maria’s voice was hoarse from non-use.
“You are safe, in your home and have been for quite some time.”
His voice was calming and she felt an immediate peace wash over her.
“My name is Michael and I was there when you had your accident. You were pretty badly hurt,” he said.
“But how did I get here?” she asked, interrupting him though she could have listened to him speak forever. “What happened and why aren’t I in the hospital?”
Michael bent lower and closer to her face. His nearness made any pain she might have felt disappear. Warmth spread over her body and she longed to be held by him.
“I promise I will answer all your questions after you rest,” he whispered. Maria wasn’t sure, but his breath smelled like fresh baked bread the same as her mother used to make.
“Just go to sleep and I’ll be here when you wake,” Michael assured her. And he was. That day and every day for the past year and a half.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sixteen years ago
Joe’s growing need to be in the presence of the beautiful angel in the basement had become a real problem.
His dependence on the angel for his newfound feelings of happiness made it necessary for Joe to visit him every day, sometimes more than once. He had managed to make an extra copy of the key to the room and anxiously awaited for any opportunities to pay him a visit.
Sometimes, if his father decided to work from home or pretend to be a normal dad and take his family out for a day trip to Coney, Joe would feign an illness or make up a homework assignment that just had to be in the next day in order to stay home.
He hadn’t yet learned the words to describe addiction or to understand the sweating and shaking his body would suffer from were a direct result of being out of the angel’s presence for too long. He only knew that the feelings were getting worse.
Then Friday came. Excited as he was about a couple of days off from school, it could not compare to the thought of his father taking his mom to Atlantic City for the weekend and Joe having the whole house all to himself.
The all too common stirrings associated with being all alone with the angel had started before his parents even left.
Once he was certain they were gone, he double checked all the door locks and made sure all the chain locks were secure.
The thrill he felt as he walked down the basement stairs was as tangible as any other feeling he had ever experienced. Pain, pleasure, excitement, and absolute happiness were nothing compared to turning the key and entering the angel’s room.
Only this time, something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and Joe knew what it was because he had seen it before.
After the angel had been in the basement for a few weeks, Joe decided to do some snooping and find out why he was here and what his father wanted with him.
This curiosity led Joe to his father’s club on Avenue U. After all, that was the place his old man normally conducted business and the place, Joe assumed, where he would find the answers he desperately needed.
Using his father’s keys, Joe walked in the club. He was immediately struck by the all too familiar happy tingling he felt whenever he was about to be around his angel. But this was different. The feeling was definitely there, but it was weaker, less potent.
When he went in the back room, he immediately realized why.
Strapped to a crucifix identical to the one in his basement was another majestic angel. This one was the color of ebony, or more accurately, had once been. Joe could only imagine how dark and rich his skin tone was before he was left hanging here with his blood forcibly being withdrawn for God only knew how long.
His eyes were covered like the one in his basement. There were no individual feathers on the ground but something horrifically worse. Laying at the creature’s feet were his complete set of wings. They were the most beautiful shade of gray with hints of black at the tips. From the jagged edges where the wings attached to the back of the angel, Joe could tell they had been sawed off its body.
Again the same question that plagued Joe since the angel had entered his life began to resurface. Why?
Joe could not fathom the answer and made a split second decision. Rifling through his father’s desk, he found the keys to the angel’s restraints. After he had opened the last one, Joe removed the gag from the ebony creature’s mouth and the blindfold from its eyes. What was underneath horrified him for years to come. Someone has taken the angel’s eyes.
As he helped the angel to the back door, Joe wept. And though he hadn’t really done so in a very long time, he prayed for these beautiful creatures and asked God to forgive him, and especially to forgive his father for what he had done.
When he was finished, he crossed himself and said, “In the name of the Father, the son, and the holy ghost.”
“Amen,” the angel said as he left the club.
Now, his own personal angel looked the same way. The natural luminescence that surrounded him was fading, growing dimmer with each passing day, and the feathers that lay haphazardly at his feet were even more plentiful and sickly looking. His luxurious blond highlighted hair was now bland and thinning. Joe didn’t need a doctor’s degree to tell the angel was dying.
But, what could he do? Joe had already let the angel in his father’s office go, and he lived in a state of constant fear that his father would find out. He hadn’t grown up the son of Nino DeFalco without knowing if you took from Nino, he’d pay you back in spades.
He could still see his friend Paulie’s face last year during the feast. The beating his old man had given that poor kid just for making fun of some old fart was brutal and meant to send a clear message—don’t fuck with me.
What would his father do to him for letting his captives go? He didn’t know exactly what they used the angels for, but he knew his father made good money from their blood.
Joe could no longer bear to look upon the sad figure that had given him so much pleasure. Turning to leave the room, he heard a muffled cry. He couldn’t make out what the angel was trying to say because of the gag over his mouth.
Joe pulled out the rag that prevented the creature from speaking and the blindfold that kept it from seeing. As it turned out, Joe would never understand what the angel wanted to say because someone had cut its tongue out. And, just like the angel in his father’s club, they had taken his eyes .
Joe started to cry. Why did they do this? What did that poor thing ever do to deserve this mutilation. It was just so unnecessary.
There was only one thing left for Joe to do. He found the key to the angel’s restraints and opened them.
After his wrists and feet were free, Joe removed the IV needles and helped him out the back door. Grabbing the spare set of car keys off the hook where they were kept, Joe loaded the angel in the back of his father's Lincoln and drove away.
After he left him in the only place he could think of that might help, Joe realized he’d never even said goodbye. In fact, he hadn’t said anything. No apology or pleas for forgiveness. Nothing.
Two weeks
later, Joe was still experiencing the symptoms of withdrawal. He had no idea the diarrhea, upset stomach, and sleepless nights he’d felt ever since he let the angel go were the direct result of its absence.
To get his mind off things, Joe thought it might be a good idea to take all his friends, and maybe that pretty new girl, Nan, to the beach, his treat. In order to do that he’d need his father’s money.
As he approached the back door to his father’s club, he heard his father’s voice. He was not alone.
“So there were three nuns,” his father said, telling a joke Joe had heard a thousand times and his men probably heard more times than that. “And they were instructed to wash every part of their body with holy water that had touched a man’s penis,” Nino continued. “The first nun goes to the fountain containing the holy water and washes her hand. The second nun goes to the holy water and washes her vagina. All of a sudden, the Mother Superior shows up and says, “Look out ladies, I’ve got to gargle.”
Nino’s laughter always made Joe smile. It was full and robust and exuded pure joy. Much like his anger when something riled him, it burst out of him whenever he said or heard something funny.
His men, as was required, also laughed. A little too much, thought Joe. But, just as quickly as it started the good mood ended. His Father’s voice changed and Joe knew instantly he was angry.
“What do you mean you still haven’t found them?” Nino DeFalco shouted. “It’s been two fucking weeks and all I got to show for it is my dick in my hand. First, someone breaks into my damn club and lets that angel go, then the one in my own fucking basement disappears. Did you find out, God forbid, how it escaped?”
Johnny Mac’s voice was barely audible but Joe recognized him immediately due to his stutter. “Na-na— not a word, boss. It’s li-li—like he va-va—vanished into th-th—thin air.”
“Listen to me, you retarded fuck.” Nino’s voice was fill of venom. “Find them, find them now or I’ll cut out your stupid fucking tongue and no one will ever have to listen to your ba-ba-ba—bullshit anymore.”
Johnny Mac headed toward the back door but Joe had already run away.
The heat from the afternoon sun was like a gentle breeze on Joe’s face compared to what his father would do to him when he found out what he’d done. But what choice did he have?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sixteen years later
Joe hadn’t been to his father’s club in years. Not since the old man had died.
But he was getting antsy. It had been four hours since the last time he got high and waiting for the guy who would help him market the angel blood, as well as his own need to get off, was making it difficult to act calm and sit still.
All his life he had fidgeted. The drug addiction only made it that much worse.
This was the fourth time he had gotten-up, walked five feet towards the door, and then sat back down.
Sitting on the black leather chair, in front of his father’s antique mahogany desk, Joe began tapping his fingers on the armrest.
His thoughts drifted to the last time he had waited in this very same room. Back then, this had been his father’s office and the place where he conducted most of his business. In it, his father would take meetings with the members of his crew, accept his weekly tribute, and listen to various plans for the next big score.
Joe knew he was nothing like his old man. Most of the time he was glad of that fact. He knew Nino DeFalco had died for being who he was.
So far, he had gotten lucky with the heroin but he was smart enough to know that one wrong shot could take him out just as quickly as two in the back of the head.
Maybe with, literally, a little divine intervention, he might be able to straighten out his fucked up life, give Nan all she deserved, and with a little more luck, hold his head held high once again.
“We’ll see,” he mused, as the door opened. The smell of burnt flesh and crappy cologne was followed by Belial, along with his 6’6”, 325-pound gorilla. He sat across from Joe and pulled a coin from his pocket.
“You wanted to see me, Joe?” Belial smirked. “Kid sick again? Maybe need a few bucks for the hospital bills?”
Every muscle in Joe’s body tensed and he tightened his grip on the arms of the chair.
“Oh, that’s right,” Belial grinned, “little Joey never made it out of the hospital. St. Joseph’s, wasn’t it? What an amusing coincidence, dying in a hospital named after a saint who couldn’t help your son with the same name. Fucking shame.” He chuckled, threading his silver coin through his fingers.
“Oh well,” Belial continued, as he nodded to his bodyguard who immediately handed him a $50 Cuban cigar. “If it’s not your son, then maybe you need something for your wife. What’s her name?”
“Nan,” grunted the piece of meat as Belial smiled lasciviously.
Joe had heard enough. Nothing was worth this. Reaching into the pocket of his father’s leather coat, Joe pulled out his old man’s nine and aimed it between the side of meat’s eyes.
“I ever hear you say her name again or even try to whisper it, I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”
With speed barely registered by the human eye, the living embodiment of brute strength grabbed Joe’s wrist. A second later it broke. Joe went down like a load of shit, clutching his arm and screaming in agony. When he opened his eyes, the gun was gone and pointed at his head.
“Boys, boys. Let’s just all calm down now,” Belial said, looking more than satisfied at the turn of events. “Such violence,” he continued, “is so unnecessary. Now Joe, Mal didn’t mean anything and then you go aim a gun at his head. What did you expect would happen? You’d shoot him?” Belial snickered. “Here’s a couple of hundred for your trouble. Use it for…whatever, and let’s just say we forget the whole thing and you tell me what you really wanted.” Belial threw the money on the desk.
Joe picked it up and gave it back to him.
“You know something, Belial?” His voice was shaky from pain. “You’re right. Let’s just forget everything. Shoulda known better than to threaten the big man. My fault, I guess. Just one thing, though. Something my old man used to say. ‘If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a thousand times. For every Goliath who thinks he’s unbeatable, there’s a David and his fucking rock.’
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Belial asked, getting up to go.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Joe said. “You guys have a great day. Maybe I’ll see you later.” Joe watched them walk out. “Maybe I’ll bring a sling-shot.”
“Shut the door,” Belial ordered as he got in the Lincoln. He was livid that Joe had dared mouth off to him, much less pulled a gun in his presence. Then to top it off with the insult of refusing his money? Who did this miserable piece of shit think he was? What he’d originally wanted was beside the point. In fact, he should have killed the little fucker when he’d offed his father sixteen years ago. Hindsight was twenty-twenty he supposed. He’d not given the kid a second thought back then because these shit-filled meat-bags were a dime a dozen and their puny lives meant less to him than the coin he played with. He was hoping now that attitude of indifference wasn’t coming back to bite him in the ass.
“What do you think he wanted?” Mal asked, looking over the nine millimeter he had taken from Joe.
“How the fuck would I know. Put that thing away. We have larger problems to think about,” Belial said. “Michael’s looking for his missing soldier and I need to find him first.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Michael appeared behind the oak tree at the home he and Maria had shared for the past year. He tried not to apparate too often as the act of disappearing and reappearing, while convenient, came with the risk of being seen as you were doing it and prompted too many questions from mortals who liked their reality based on reality and not on heavenly intervention.
However, after speaking with Belial, he had an urgent need to see her now, right this second.
The woman he loved was in the
garden tending to the vegetables. Her beautiful face put to rest any doubt over his actions to get here. After all, he would rather be banished from heaven forever and live for eternity on earth if it meant he could spend that time with Maria.
As he watched her, he couldn’t help but notice the care with which she handled every plant. She tended her garden as his God had once tended his own. But, that was long ago when the Lord’s attention was completely fixated on this spot in the universe. Now his gaze was concentrated elsewhere and his garden had sprung forth a multitude of weeds that threatened the life of all other beauty in this world.
As God’s fiercest warrior, he knew he would do whatever was necessary to protect Maria. No matter what the cost to himself. For right now, she was fine, she was beautiful, and she was his.
He recalled the very first time he had seen her. He had gone into St. James Church briefly to get away from all the noise, filth, and people. He often went to churches to get a semblance of the peace and tranquility he used to feel before he came to this planet. It was the only place where he felt completely at home and closer to his Lord.
Maria had been sitting in the third pew from the front, making a rosary. Michael thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. There was a light in her eyes that reflected so much love and peace that was sadly missing from most humans. She intrigued him, and Michael found he couldn’t look away.
After she was done, Michael made a split-second decision and followed her. He saw where she worked, and later, where she lived. From that day on, Michael made time every week to go to Maria’s church and watch her pray. He wasn’t certain what human love felt like, but he was positive that’s exactly what he felt for her.
He had been following her, yet again, when she drove off the road to avoid the deer. In the blink of an eye, Michael threw away the rules he had lived his existence by and saved her life.
Whether it was right or wrong to do so never entered his thoughts. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was this woman he knew he could no longer live without. He had not regretted that decision since.
