Knocking on Helen's Door

by Eve Langlais

  She slapped at it. “Would you stop that?”

  “Sorry. It likes you.”

  The inanity of the comment had her snorting. “A cloak doesn’t feel.”

  “A reaper one does. It’s a part of me and reacts to my environment and my emotions. I imagine your wings are the same.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “My wings are not satanic magic.”

  “Never said they were. I referenced the fact they’re a part of you and yet, at the same time, can act independently if needed.”

  As if speaking woke them, she felt her wings shivering, invisible to humans on this plane. Like his cloak.

  She cocked her head. “Can you manifest your garment for humans?”

  “Yes, but I rarely bother.”

  “How is it that I can see it?”

  He shrugged. “No idea, but I guess it has to do with the fact I can spot an angel even if their wings are tucked away.”

  “Have you met many angels?”

  “A few. Goading Michael is one of my favorite things.”

  “The Michael?”

  “If you mean the douchebag with blond hair and seriously annoying attitude, then yes.”

  At his lack of deference, she coughed. “He’s one of the highest placed angels in Heaven.” Everyone knew his name, and his rages. Michael came through the nursery once, ranting about the empty cribs, wanting to know why there weren’t more babies. The Archnanny had followed at his heels and muttered something about contraception, which made no sense at the time.

  But now… Her mind shied away from it. Not ready. She focused on Julio instead.

  “Michael is a pompous ass, and it gives me immense pleasure to get him spitting mad,” he said.

  “And he hasn’t punished you?” Michael was their greatest enforcer.

  “I keep hoping he’ll try.” Julio winked at her.

  “Shouldn’t you be watching where you’re driving?” She’d seen accidents on television. They didn’t appear enjoyable.

  “You’re not dying in the next five minutes.”

  “How would you know?” she sassed.

  “Reaper, remember? Imminent death always smells.”

  “Like what?”

  “Depends on the person, but for me it’s usually baking bread. Yeasty and yet delicious.”

  “Death smells good to you?” The idea seemed strange.

  “Yup.”

  He turned onto a street and she asked, “Where are we going?”

  “You asked for proof, and lucky for you, I happened upon the perfect thing. I’m going to introduce you to someone.”

  “Who?”

  “You’ll see in a minute.” He parked his truck, and a moment later, they stood in front of a door painted a deep red.

  At his brisk knock, a beautiful woman answered. Her hair was even curlier than Helen’s. As she gazed at Helen, her face went through a series of expressions before settling on incredulous. “Okay, did someone put pot in the brownies again, or are you wearing a halo?”

  “What? No.” Helen put a hand to her head as she felt for it. If visible, it would be solid. Her fingers met nothing but air, meaning the woman in front of her must be like Julio, some kind of Hell minion who could see it, and yet she appeared quite human. Could there be others capable of seeing her true nature?

  “Hey, Samantha. We spoke on the phone. I’m Julio with Grim Dating.” He held out his hand.

  “Oh, I’m surprised to see you here. I only submitted an application to your company on a lark. That logo with the cute little reaper...” Samantha rolled her shoulders and chuckled.

  “And I’m so glad you did because your portfolio caught my eye. May we come in?”

  “Of course.” Samantha stepped aside and ushered them into the living room where he sat on the couch, Helen by his side. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Water?”

  “We’re fine. And I’ll be sure to add gracious hostess to your profile.” Julio leaned forward and smiled. “You’re just the type of candidate we like. I’m convinced we’ll be able to find your perfect match.”

  “I can’t wait. I haven’t dated in forever. It will be kind of nice to have the vetting process taken out of my hands. I figure you can’t do any worse than I have.” Samantha laughed despite the self-deprecating comment.

  “Don’t you worry. Grim Dating is all about making the right matches.” Julio smiled at the other woman, and Helen got annoyed, even though she couldn’t have explained why.

  It soured her mood and words. “Why are we here? I thought you said you had proof to show me.”

  “I’m getting to it. Tell me, have you noticed anything different about Samantha?”

  “She’s very attractive for a human.” It made her self-conscious.

  Samantha snorted. “Wow. Complimented and insulted in one shot. I’m not human, sweetie.”

  “Then what are you?” Helen asked. She saw no sign of wings, or anything that set Samantha apart from other humans.

  “Can’t you smell it?”

  Helen could only smell a jumbled mess that meant nothing to her. “I smell a great many things.”

  “I’m a shapeshifter. My other form is a wolf.”

  “You’re an animal?” Helen’s eyes widened.

  “We’re all animals, sweetie.”

  Helen shook her head. “No. I’m not.” She glanced at Julio. “I don’t understand why we’re here.”

  “That makes two of us. Why are you really here? Because it’s becoming obvious it’s not only because of my application.” Samantha arched a brow.

  “I’m afraid my visit did have a secondary purpose. Helen is a new client of ours, currently under the misconception that angels can’t make babies.”

  To which Samantha snorted. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  Samantha eyed Helen. “Where do you think angel babies come from?”

  Why did Helen blush as she said, “The stork brings them.”

  Samantha couldn’t stop laughing and all the while Helen got more and more annoyed. Finally, Samantha wiped at her wet eyes and said, “Holy fuck, that was funny.”

  “Except for the fact she truly believes it,” Julio added.

  “Now I see why you’re here.” Samantha then yelled, “Lector, get in here.”

  A small boy entered, sporting big shiny eyes, curly blond hair, a dimple in his cheek. A gorgeous child who ran to his mother, meaning Helen could see his back.

  And the outline of his wings.

  A roaring filled her ears. She couldn’t blink, and her eyes dried as she stared at the boy crawling into his mother’s lap. A cherub. Here. On Earth.

  How could this be?

  “Where did you find him? Did you pick him in a cabbage patch?” she asked through wooden lips.

  “I wish! Took me a full day of labor before I could push out his giant head. I thought my twat would never recover. He’s my son. One hundred percent.”

  “And the Father?” Julio softly prodded.

  “What do you think?” was Samantha’s sarcastic reply. “His daddy was an angel.”

  Helen was frozen in place as it hit her. “Heaven lied.” The Archangels, the teachers, everyone.

  Samantha set the child down and eyed Helen. “Did they lie? Or did they just not tell you? Because Theodore, Lector’s Father, was fully aware he could make babies. It’s why he wore a rubber. Only it broke.”

  “And you’re sure Theodore was an angel?” she asked to clarify.

  Samantha nodded. “Wings, halo, and all. It’s kind of why I slept with him.”

  “If you were sleeping, then how do you know he is the Father?”

  “By sleeping, I mean we fucked. Twice. He called me a few days later, but I blew him off. He was only okay in the sack and boring out of it. When I found out I was pregnant, I tried to call, but his number was out of service. He doesn’t know he’s a Father, and I had no idea how to contact him.”

  “We don’t have phones in Hea
ven. I think,” Helen added musingly. “I wonder if it was just the nursery that lacked amenities.” She glanced at Julio. “The night I went for a walk, I heard music. I saw people out and not seemingly worried about breaking rules. As if they didn’t have to obey them.” Her head dipped. “Why do they live differently than the nannies? Why are we punished if we don’t obey every single rule? Why couldn’t we have the same freedom as others?”

  Julio had an answer. “Because there is no perfect system. Thinking, feeling people won’t act the same. There are some who will always force their will, their view, on others.”

  “But why? How does it make sense to lie to us? They outlawed laughter,” she huffed.

  He winced. “Yeah, that’s kind of brutal.”

  “If you don’t like it, change it,” Samantha suggested. “You know Heaven’s secret. Reveal it. The more people, or in this case angels, who know the truth of how things really are, the more likely you are to change things.”

  “How can I tell anyone? I don’t know how to get home.”

  Even as she said it, uncertainty filled her on whether she wanted to return. Especially as she glanced over at Lector, who’d climbed the table and leaped off it, the outline of his wings spreading, not taking shape in this reality but reacting nonetheless.

  A cherub on Earth. Were there more like him?

  “Does he shapeshift into a wolf as well?” Julio asked.

  Samantha shook her head. “No, but he’s young yet. Some don’t trigger until their teen years. Others need a full moon.”

  The idea of the child changing shapes boggled the mind. But when the boy suddenly came close and grabbed her hand, his eyes peering into hers, she began to breathe quickly. He was living proof angels could make babies.

  Male angels could, but she couldn’t. Because someone decided she shouldn’t.

  God. Her lying Father in his prison. He’d done this to her.

  That didn’t sit well.

  13

  Poor Helen. Julio had shattered her worldview by introducing her to a Nephilim. Hard to ignore visual evidence. But would Helen run with it? Start a revolution in Heaven?

  Samantha had nudged her in that direction, but rather than fly into a rage and promise retribution, Helen grew quiet.

  Quiet people could be frightening, as it could mean many things. Some mentally shut down, caving to pressure. Others plotted the kind of revenge that required meticulous detail—and didn’t leave a body. The latter made prosecution more difficult. He’d learned that after one of his arrests.

  Helen abruptly stood and said, “This has been most enlightening.” And not entirely welcome judging by her expression.

  Rather than rub Helen’s face in the lies she’d been told, Samantha gave her a piece of advice. “You seem like a nice girl. Which is probably your problem. Nice girls follow all the rules, but those who break them don’t care about hurting you. It’s not a bad thing to look after yourself.”

  “Selfishness is a sin.”

  She spoke by rote, which was why Julio felt a need to say, “So is blindly following.”

  Helen’s lips pursed. “Angels aren’t supposed to fib.”

  “And I’d wager a good chunk of them don’t.” He shrugged. “But given they’re half human, it’s not hard to imagine there are a few that don’t follow all the rules.”

  Samantha uttered a disparaging snort. “I’d say more than a few.”

  To that, Helen shook her head. “There are others like me who believed everything.”

  He wondered if she noted her use of the past tense.

  “You should look up some failed forms of government when you get a chance,” Samantha suggested. “The kind of society you’re talking about is one that’s failed many times, usually because they were conquered or their own people rose against them.”

  “You’ve given me much to ponder.” Then more softly, “Thank you.”

  Julio quickly rose and extended his hand. “Yes, thank you, Samantha, for meeting with us. You seem like a fine candidate for Grim Dating, and I will personally oversee your match.” A shapeshifter with a demon would create a fine minion for Lucifer.

  With the good-byes spoken, Helen couldn’t leave fast enough. She climbed into his truck and didn’t say a word.

  Definitely plotting someone’s death. Hopefully not his. He’d hate to have to restrain her.

  With her body under his.

  Hmm. Maybe he should let her attack.

  He headed for his office, having no idea where else to go. As they neared the building, he slowed, having spotted a shape dressed in white up ahead.

  “What is it?” she asked, roused from her silent contemplation.

  “I think I see one of your buddies from Heaven.”

  “Where?” She craned forward and grimaced. “I can’t see their face.”

  “Might be your buddy with the sword.” It would be brazen of him to come for her in plain sight. Julio had never reaped an angel, and yet, half human meant they had to have some kind of soul.

  “I don’t care who it is. I don’t want to speak to them. Not yet. Can we go somewhere without people? I need to think. Ask questions.” Her glance held trouble and angst.

  It begged him for help, and he couldn’t say no.

  “We can go to my place. It’s private. I also have stuff in the fridge if you’re thirsty or hungry.”

  “Let’s go.” That was all she said before looking out her window. Despite saying she wanted to ask him things, she remained quiet.

  He attempted to kick-start conversation. “So, I hear that chicken sandwich with no bread is coming back.”

  No reply.

  Wait, were angels vegan? “Do you eat meat?”

  “I do now.” She wrung her hands. “I didn’t realize meat was a thing until Bambi fed me. I asked for the name of what I ate, and she told me it was chicken.” Her head dipped. “It was delicious.”

  She sounded ashamed. As a carnivore, he heartily approved of her taste buds. “What kind of chicken did you try? My favorite is stuffed chicken. Smoked meat, cheese, and bacon on the inside, pan fried in seasoning and butter.” Add some browned rice with freshly chopped chive for a side dish and he had a happy mouth and belly.

  “I should be on my knees praying for forgiveness at having eaten flesh.”

  “But?”

  “That sounds delicious,” she admitted softly. “Maybe I am a sinner like the devil said because I want to taste everything.”

  “What did you eat in Heaven? Ambrosia of your god?” he asked, only semi-sarcastic.

  “I wouldn’t call it ambrosia. Twice a day we consumed a thick broth with all the nutrients we require.”

  He gagged. “That sounds gross.”

  She took offence. “It is not disgusting.”

  “Is it amazing?”

  “It’s necessary. I looked forward to the meals. But…” She chewed her lip. “Since being here, I’ve discovered so many flavors and textures. Hot and cold. Crunchy or soft. So many different reasons to like what’s in my mouth.”

  “Name your favorite food so far.” He’d rather chat about yummy treats and keep her engaged than remind her of what she’d discovered. It sucked he’d had to be the one to shatter her entire reality, but she deserved the truth.

  She canted her head. “I am enjoying many things. Bananas are very good. Nice for gripping. and I like that I can just put it in my mouth and bite off as much as I can fit.”

  The more she spoke, the more his mind fell into the gutter. He changed the subject. “I have no bananas at my place”—if he ignored the one in his pants—“but I’ve got ice cream.”

  “Ooh. I love ice cream.” She clapped her hands.

  “What flavor?”

  “All of them. Bambi took me to a place where they had numerous large buckets. We got a scoop from each of them.”

  By the time they arrived at his place, she’d waxed eloquent on three savory choices above all others. Butter pecan, cookie dough, and good ol
d-fashioned chocolate.

  His apartment was within an older building, a bit shabby around the edges, but she still stared around with avid interest then made a beeline for his couch. She sat on it and stroked the leather. “Very smooth and soft.”

  He didn’t mention it was animal. “It’s cold if you sit naked.”

  Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned pink. “I’ll remember to keep my clothes on then.”

  “Pity.”

  He knew she caught the implication by the way her gaze dropped but her temperature rose. His cloak flicked out to touch her, and she turned to glance at him.

  “Is it you making it touch me when I’m upset?”

  He rolled his shoulders. “Yes and no. We are one and, at the same time, not. It is in tune to my emotions and reacts.”

  “It appears to be comforting me.”

  “Because it is.”

  “In Heaven, we don’t comfort. Ever. We are stoic. We do not burden others with our emotions. There is no such thing as sorrow or fear. We must not get angry.”

  “You’re implying angels can’t feel. I think that’s kind of an impossible rule, don’t you?”

  She paused for a moment before replying. “It is. A lot of the rules are difficult and make no sense.”

  “But you followed them.”

  “Mostly.” She shrugged. “I got sent for contemplation more than once.”

  “That’s what usually happens when you don’t toe the line in a strict regime. And now you have even more questions.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to talk about Lector?”

  Her expression turned somber, and her hands knotted in her lap. “Not really.”

  “His existence answers your question about where babies come from.”

  “Is it proof, though? Perhaps he’s part bird. His mother claims to be a wolf.”

  That caused him to utter a snort. “I saw you recognize the fact he’s an angel baby.”

  “We call them cherubs.”

  “Whatever. He’s an angel. Don’t deny it.”

  She slumped. “He does appear to be one, and I would know. I was one of the nannies who helped care for them until they reached a certain stage of development.”

  She said it so clinically, he had to ask, “Did you like your job?”