by A. J. Norris
“Can I ask you something?”
“I guess, although I’m not sure I’ll have an answer you’ll like. Can I ask you something first?” Hazel shrugged. “How come you’re not freaked out about all this? What’s wrong with you?”
“Why did you come to see me?”
“I asked you first.”
“Because after I met you, my mom showed me pictures of you. I was convinced I saw my aunt…you…that night at Eternity. Then when I ran into you again and you escaped in the elevator, I knew something was up. I like to think I’m an open-minded person. Also, I read an article about the little kid that witnessed—”
“His name’s Brandon.”
“I didn’t know that. None of the articles I read mentioned his name.”
“Brandon suffered, everyone thought he was crazy. Hell, I would’ve thought he was insane, talking that crap.”
“So why did you come here?”
“It’s a long, depressing story. Basically I’m a fuck-up and wanted to see you again before…”
“Before?”
“Before I’m gone forever.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“I have one shot at keeping myself from going back to Hell. If I fail…well, you get the picture.”
“What do you have to do?”
“Nothing I’m going to tell you about. That’s not why I came.”
“Maybe I can help.”
Amalya had to admire the girl’s optimism. “No. This has nothing to do with you. I should go.” Amalya thought about Max, his pink hair. He was always in the basement at Eternity.
“Can I drop you somewhere? Please?” Hazel begged her.
Oh God.
“Hazel, promise me you won’t waste your life. Especially worrying about me. Just take care of your mom.” Amalya’s bottom lip trembled again. “And don’t tell her I was here. She won’t believe you anyway.”
Hazel opened her mouth to protest then nodded. “You’re right, she won’t.” A lopsided grin lifted the corner of her mouth.
Stepping toward her niece, Amalya wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love her, even if I never showed it.” When she looked up, a vase of fresh lavender spider chrysanthemums caught her eye. Nestled between the flowers was a black feather.
What the…no. She moved away from Hazel as she spoke. “Where’d you get that?”
“Get what?” Confusion crossed the girl’s face.
Amalya pointed. “That!” Flowers spilled out of the vase and onto the dining table when she yanked out the feather.
“I dunno where that came from. Maybe my roommate?”
Amalya swallowed. Shivered. “I thought you said she was out of town.”
“I did.”
“How long ago did she leave?” Thoughts of Aba and those goat-legged bastards raced inside her mind.
Oh God. If anyone hurts her…
“A few days, why?” Hazel crinkled her forehead.
Examining the color and texture, Amalya discovered the plume wasn’t from her but an ostrich, dyed black and store bought.
Thank God. Paranoid much?
Man, she was cracking up.
“I gotta go. But do you know anyone named Damien Stone?”
“No,” Hazel said.
Amalya sighed in relief. “Good, keep it that way.”
“Okaaay.”
The ‘you’re weird’ was implied. Amalya didn’t care, she only wanted her niece safe. Hazel smiled then seemed to remember something.
“Wait, before you go. I want you to have something.”
Amalya held her breath and closed her eyes for a long second. When she opened her eyes, Hazel was leaning over a frosted glass desk with the center drawer open, pawing through the contents. She shut the drawer with a hip check and held a necklace out in front of her. The pendant swung on the end of a black velvet ribbon.
Amalya paled. “W-w-where did you get that?” She backed up and bumped into the table with the vase behind her.
“What’s the matter? I thought you might want it back.” Hazel glanced at the amulet. “Mom gave it to me. She took it before you ran away, because it was your aunt’s. Actually, she was jealous and didn’t want you to have it. So I guess she stole it from you. Except, she felt guilty and never could bring herself to wear the necklace.”
“D-don’t. Let go, don’t even touch that. Give it to me!”
“What’s wrong?”
Amalya rushed her niece, snatching the tainted SOB from her grip. Her hand vibrated.
Clank.
Clink.
Clunk.
The piece of jewelry bounced twice on the hardwood floor.
“What is it?”
“I’ll take it. Give me something to pick the thing up with.” Amalya made a grabbing motion with her hand, keeping her eyes on the pendant. Hazel placed a stick of some sort in her hand. She picked up the necklace by its ribbon like a lab technician handles radioactive material, using the stem of one of the loose flowers from the table. The petals instantly wilted.
Leaning her torso away from the feared object, Hazel asked, “What is it? You’re freaking me out.”
“It’s a sigil. Kissed by Abaddon.”
Hazel giggled a little. “A what?”
“Sigil,” Amalya repeated. “It carries the Devil’s Taint or poison.”
Hazel stepped backward three paces, examining her palms. “Uh, should I wash my hands?”
“Yeah, it won’t help. How ‘bout I take this and go now?” What would happen if she tried to poof to Elliott right now? He should definitely hear about this. A pang in the heart reminded her he’d kicked her out of Arcadia. She huffed.
“Hazel, tell my sister she’s lucky she never wore the necklace and you returned it me. Who cares if she doesn’t believe you? One day she will. Tell her I said she will always be my mule.”
CHAPTER
SIXTY-EIGHT
Amalya
Poofing back to Elliott only got Amalya as far as an empty elevator at Eternity. At the sight of the amulet, Max cringed and made the cross sign with his fingers, jokingly of course. Crosses didn’t seem to have anything to do with angels, Deus, or Arcadia. There was a cheesy one back at Elliott’s apartment that he paid no attention to.
“You did well, kid,” he told her. “One less of those in the world.” He muttered something that sounded like, “Four more to go.”
“You knew, didn’t you? That I’d find it?”
Max pursed his lips. “Ehh, maybe.”
She punched his arm. “How do we get rid of it?”
Chuckling, he motioned for her to follow. Amalya trailed him over to an empty section of wall and he pounded three times with the side of his fist. “Stand back,” he said. The seal of a hidden two-by-two foot compartment hissed as the door lowered. Flames licked out then retreated. The scorching blast caused distorting heat waves. She shielded her face behind a curled wing.
Max closed his palm around the amulet. His hand glowed within, turning his fist orange.
“Does that hurt?”
“Nope.”
“You know, that thing made a flower wilt on contact.”
The angel snorted. “Relax.” Turning red in the face, he moaned. “Oh, oh…awk.” He grabbed his throat, stopped glowing, and listed to the side.
“Shit!” Amalya screeched. “Oh my God. Help!”
Laughter rumbled out of Max’s throat.
“Oh, you asshole! I thought…you’re so not funny.”
“I’m fine,” Max said. “I remove Taint all the time.” He banged the wall once again and the door started to close. Just before it shut completely, he tossed the necklace into the fire.
When he faced her, Amalya noticed his eyes for the first time. They didn’t look human but were beautiful. They were like black opals, iridescent, with deep blues and purples. He was handsome, even with the hot pink hair. The roots were a dirty blond. Not white like Elliott’s hair.
Oh God.
She missed hi
m.
“So, I finished the search on your boy Brandon.” Max told her. “Not much help, though. He doesn’t have much of a footprint. Fortunately, I have contacts around town. He’s a big time gambler; owes some bad dudes a lot of money—worth killing for.”
“Crossroad,” she muttered.
Max pulled a loose feather out of his wing. “I have to go. Thanks.” She stood on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. The loose feather reminded her of the feathers she’d left behind for Brandon.
Brandon…where are you?
Poof
CHAPTER
SIXTY-NINE
Amalya
Passed out on the couch, Deus’ soul snored. Loudly. Brandon clutched an almost empty fifth of Kentucky Gentleman in his hand.
Yuk. What’s that smell?
Amalya took a seat in a chair across from Brandon. Today was Friday. They had a long day ahead of them and a night of possible cold-blooded murder. Several beer bottles knocked over when she pushed on the coffee table with her feet.
He snorted awake and sat bolt upright, drool glistening in the corner of his mouth.
“Rise and shine, sleepy head.”
“Aw fuck, it’s you,” he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “What’dya want?” He rubbed his forehead between his thumb and first three fingers.
“You find my letters?”
“Tore them up.”
“You read them first, right?”
“Nope.”
“It’s important that—”
“So?” He looked at her with contempt.
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Why are you here? Shit. This is just a figment of my imagination. Stress. My fucking conscience.”
She rolled her eyes. “Pfff. Will you shut up and stop talking to yourself like a crazy person? I’m not a figment of your imagination. Christ, you’re an idiot.”
“Thanks,” he said, flopping his back on the couch again.
“You can’t kill this guy.”
“And why not?”
Amalya recoiled, thinking it peculiar of him not to wonder how she knew he planned murdering someone. “It will end your life.”
And mine.
She didn’t want to use the guilt card yet.
“Has it even occurred to you that it’s already over anyway? Look at me. Look around you. I’m a loser.”
Oh, the irony.
“So you want to spend eternity in Hell, is that it? Trust me. You don’t want to go there. It’s hot, it smells, and it’s full of demons. Did I mention the demons? Goat-legged horned dem—”
Brandon lumbered to his feet. That’s when she got of a whiff. The crotch of his pants was damp with piss. She would have laughed if the sight weren’t so depressing. Continuing to ignore her, he entered the bedroom.
Poof.
He was in the midst of undressing when she appeared. “Just going to leave those pants on the floor there, huh?” Her nose crinkled in disgust.
He gasped. “Jesus. Quit doing that.”
“Doing what?” Putting her hand up to her heart, she blinked with mock innocence.
He glared at her.
“Forget it. I give up,” she said and sat on the end of the bed.
Amalya kept quiet while he finished undressing. He didn’t bother hiding his manhood from her either.
The shower turned on a few minutes after the bathroom door closed. Not a lot of noise filtered into the bedroom. After a while, she wondered if he’d gone out the window, then she heard a sound like a shampoo bottle hitting the bottom of the tub.
He came back through the door with a towel wrapped low around his scrawny hips. The top of his pubic hair peeked out. Gawd, he was so skinny. Elliott’s muscular torso ended in a V-shape at the hips. This kid’s was hollowed.
“Did I mention the demons like to torture souls?”
No response. There must be something he feared.
Amalya sighed. “Did you really tear up the notes I left you? Did you read them first?” She took his silence as a yes to her first question and a no on the second. “You can’t ignore me forever.”
The towel fell to the floor. The kid had no butt. She chuckled, which made him pause in the middle of putting on some tighty-whiteys. “Oh, so me laughing at your puny little ass gets a reaction out of you?”
He finished pulling the underwear up and turned around, the tip of him sticking out the top of the waistband. He knew it too.
“Do you have no shame?”
“You’re not really here, so…”
“Oh please. We still on that kick? Let’s recap what we know so far.”
He covered his ears with his hands. “Lalalalalalalala…”
“Twenty years ago you witnessed two murderers murdering each other…”
“Lalalalalala…”
“You saw a representation of God and the Devil. It messed up your head…”
“Lalalalala!”
“Stop it!” She jumped to her feet and wrenched one of his hands down. He yanked his hand free and returned it to his ear. Amalya opened her wings, knocking him on his bony ass with a quick swipe to his chest. The motion mimicked a backhanded slap. She planted her feet on either side of him, pinning his arms. Forcing his shoulders into the matted carpet with her hands, she then sat on his pathetic hips. His eyes widened, but he avoided her stare.
“Look at me! You’ve used this traumatic experience your whole life for making poor decisions. One right after the other. And you know what’s really sad?”
You’re just like me.
She hadn’t saved him on the side of the road that day. The real saving was yet to come.
Brandon blinked at her when she couldn’t finish her soapbox speech. She sat back on his thighs, took a couple of deep breaths. Her wings were on full display and he was staring at them. “I don’t know why they’re black, if you’re wondering. I think I must be some sort of dark angel, but I don’t know how…or why.”
“Why me? Why do you care so much what happens to me?”
“Why not?”
Telling him about the deal between Deus and Aba seemed like a bad idea. Only one of them needed to know about them both being pawns in a game, where the loser got to spend forever and a day in Hell. Oh, and if one failed, they both failed. Nor was it a good plan to tell him Damien was Reed in a new body. If Brandon was anything like her, he’d run, and that wasn’t a risk she wanted to take. For an unknown reason, she knew Brandon had to face this now. Or maybe it was because she knew Aba would follow him wherever he went.
“I’m going to let you up now, but please hear me out.”
He nodded, so she released him.
She paced around the room to stall for more time to think. Her wings dragged, brushing the carpet. “The notes, each had one word on them.”
“What did you mean by ‘don’t end up like me?’” he asked.
Her head snapped in his direction. “Wait, what? You did read my notes? I thought you tore them up.”
He repeated the words in the order she’d meant them. “Please don’t end up like me.”
“Yeah. Full of regrets and out of time.” Amalya leaned against the wall, using her wings as cushion, and crossed her arms.
“What do you regret?”
“What I don’t regret would be a much shorter list. But the people I hurt, mainly my family.”
“I don’t have any family.”
“You could. It’s not too late for you.”
Brandon guffawed humorlessly. “That’s easy for you to say. You had a family and pissed it all away.
“Brand—”
“You think I don’t know who you are? The family you came from?”
“My family is a bunch of nobodies,” she gushed out.
“Oh yeah, but they were rich. You had every privilege, every advantage, I never had.”
Her arms unfolded and shot down to her sides. “How do you know?”
“I can read, Amalya.”
Damn Internet.
He slid the dresser drawer open and retrieved a pair of faded jeans off the top of the clothes he’d crammed in unfolded, plugged his legs into the pants, jumped, and pulled them on.
She sat back down on the bed, wedging her hands under her thighs. She stared at the floor. “You’re right.”
“I am—about what?” His tone suggested he was as surprised as her at the admission.
“I had everything you could ever want. Fancy house, designer clothes…nothing was ever good enough. I treated everyone around me like garbage. Made a shit storm of my life. Blamed everyone for making me miserable.”
“But you were the fucked up one,” he said.
No one spoke for a few minutes while they each inspected stains on the carpet. Amalya became restless, got up, and paced.
“Brandon, I can’t make you do the right thing and I don’t know these people you owe money to, but I do know that if you do this—”
“You’re right. You don’t.” He face-palmed then cursed under his breath.
“You won’t survive the night.” Amalya stomped her feet.
“Well, maybe I don’t wanna.”
Her eyes widened. Where had she heard that before? The blood rushed out of her head. “Then I’m too late, you’ve already ended up like me.”
Terrific.
“Yup. I guess so, except I’m still alive. And I plan on staying that way.”
“Oh yeah? Then prove it!”
Petrified tonight was her last night on Earth, she couldn’t help but picture Elliott. His face flushed, just after sex. Beautiful white hair and dark eyebrows. Ebony eyes, shiny and alive. Impossible not to get lost in. She missed the shit out of that angel.
Poof.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Amalya
Damn.
Amalya’s intention had not been to teleport away from Brandon. Her mind, however, had other ideas. The buzzing in her ears ended, signaling her arrival at the chosen destination. Once again the poofing only managed to take her as far as the upstairs men’s bathroom inside Eternity. Like last time, Elliott wasn’t in there.
What the hell?
How the toilet fit into the mix was a mystery she’d hopefully be able to tackle next.
