by C. L. Coffey
Veronica snorted. “Well is such a strong term.”
“Next up, you have the Archangels,” Cupid continued, a little forcefully. “There are currently eight of us. Me, obviously. Michael, obviously. And the others I would hope you have heard of are Gabriel – he’s in Rome. Raphael is in Dublin, and Uriel is in Seoul. Then there’s also Remiell in Baghdad, Raguel in Sydney and Sariel in Buenos Aires.”
“How come there are two archangels in New Orleans?” I asked him. “How come you don’t have your own House?”
Cupid shrugged. “Aside from the fact I simply don’t want to be one, I’m not a Principality.”
“Neither is Sariel,” Veronica pointed out. “But then again,” she added, seeing Cupid’s expression. “He wanted his own House.”
“Hang on a minute,” I frowned. “An Archangel is also a Principality?” This was supposed to be helping me, but if I’m honest, it was making my brain hurt.
“In a sense, yes,” Cupid nodded. “The third rank on earth, and the highest, excluding the Cherubim,” he added, rolling his eyes at Veronica, who was clearly ready to say something. “That spot goes to the Principalities. If Angels are the messengers, Archangels are the guardians, well, the Principalities are more like the management system.”
“A management system,” I repeated, dryly. “You’re telling me there’s a corporate system in Heaven?”
Cupid shrugged. “Pretty much. To be honest, it gets really confusing the higher up you go. Angels can only be angels, but take someone like Michael – he’s also a Principality, a Virtue and a Seraph.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed at the bridge of my nose. “What?” I asked, hopelessly.
“Okay, in short,” Veronica cut in. “Think of it like this. The First Choir is the highest ranking and is made up of Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones. Seraphim are the only ones who can talk directly to God. Think of them as his body guards. Nobody’s getting through them. They talk to the Cherubim-”
“Well, they did,” Cupid interrupted her.
Veronica swiped at his arm. “You’re over complicating things too soon,” she chided him. She turned back to me. “Think of the Cherubim as the personal assistants. We run the diary and we are the best minute takers you’re going to get. From here, we communicate with the Thrones who are effectively human resources.”
I wrinkled my nose up, but nodded. In some weird way, this was making sense.
“So the first tier, they’re like the upper-management. Next up, the second tier, the Second Choir, they’re the middle-management. You have the Dominations, the Virtues and the Powers,” Veronica frowned thoughtfully, playing with her straw. “I guess the Dominations are general managers. They make sure the orders from the first Choir are passed on to the third Choir. In short, like all middle management, their job is to delegate. Virtues are the PR people. They’re the ones who deal out the miracles, even though most of the time it’s the Angels that get the credit. Powers are the security. They make sure the bad stay out of Heaven.”
“And then you get the Third Choir,” Cupid added, nodding in approval at Veronica’s explanation.
I chewed on my lip, thinking it through. It did actually make a lot of sense to me. “And how do the Cherubim become the spanner in the works?” I asked, actually bracing myself for the mind melt that was coming.
“A difference of opinion,” Veronica said.
At the same time, Cupid pulled a face. “Something which was so close to being considered another rebellion.”
I looked between the two who were suddenly glaring at each other.
“We didn’t rebel, and we were never going to!” Veronica snapped at him.
“Oh puh-lease,” Cupid sniped. “You all but called God an idiot.”
My mouth fell open. Perhaps there was hope for me yet. “What?” I demanded.
Cupid shot Veronica a silencing look and then turned to me. “They think there will be another uprising.”
“And apparently we’re idiots for thinking that the Fallen and the Nephilim will want revenge for being denied entry into Heaven. Puh-lease yourself,” she shot at Cupid. “You’re just naive,” she turned to me. “When it happens, mankind is going to need all the help it can get and that’s what we said – we requested to be put on earth.”
“And screwed up the system in the process. Now the Thrones are trying to do the work of the Cherubim while they are stuck doing the work the Angels should be doing,” Cupid said, although at this point, I was beginning to think he had forgotten I was there. “You are so lucky you didn’t fall in the process.”
Somehow, the good natured bickering the two frequently shared had suddenly become a little vicious. I didn’t like it. “So how does being gay work?” I blurted out.
Cupid and Veronica froze and then turned their heads in slow motion to gape at me. “Seriously?” Cupid asked. “Please tell me I don’t have to draw a diagram.”
I quickly shook my head. “That’s not what I meant,” I quickly told them, flushing in embarrassment. “It’s just, you’re saying we can’t have relations with humans, and yet you both like human guys. On top of that, you’ve only just told me it’s like a different species. I’m sorry, but I don’t stare at a cat as it walks past me and think ‘phwoar’.”
There was a moment of bewildered silence, and then the pair burst out laughing. I tried to keep a straight face, but then I was laughing too.
“Do you want to know the real difference between angels and humans?” Cupid asked, as the laughter finally died down.
“It might help,” I nodded, my tone somewhat dry.
“Okay, man was created in His image,” Cupid indicated to his vessel. “For us, our true form is, well, I suppose the only thing it can be compared to is a big ball of energy. We don’t really have a shape. We use vessels because it enables us to be around humans, but we cannot invade a living human. They have to be dead. That’s a difference too. Humans are born, they grow and then they die. We don’t. We just are. If it wasn’t for the Fallen, we wouldn’t die either. We could just remain the same for eternity. Finally, we don’t need faith. We know.”
“We’ve never known anything different,” Veronica sighed, reaching for her drink. “Plus I haven’t exactly had much interaction with humans until the last few centuries.”
“Okay, this is depressing,” Cupid sighed. “Do you have any other questions, or can we dance?”
I thought about it. I really wanted to ask about the Nephilim, but neither Cupid nor Veronica seemed to want to discuss that topic further. Asking about the Cherubim was likely to bring about another argument they already seemed to have forgotten about. I shook my head and allowed Cupid and Veronica to pull me onto the empty dance floor, unable to keep the smile from my face. Finally, things were making sense to me.
For the first hour or so, we were the only ones dancing, and for once, I really didn’t care. When I was alive, I would never have gone out onto an empty dance floor. Yet here I was happily dancing like there was no one else in the room. By happily dancing, the three of us were doing everything from a bad Moonwalk to the Macarena.
I was feeling the happiest I had since dying, and possibly for some time before that too. I had been so stressed with my upcoming senior year and what was happening next that I hadn’t just relaxed for a night. It was strange. I now had no control over my future – I had one option: to become an angel. Of course, I was going to try to become an archangel because it sounded a damn sight more interesting than playing errand boy, but right at that moment, the only thing I was interested in was dancing with my friends.
We were in high spirits on the way home, singing along to the radio, dancing on the spot in our seats. It earned us a few stares off the few passers-by, but it just made us laugh even more.
It wasn’t until we were pulling onto the interstate to avoid the traffic when the ringing started. “And he beckons,” I sighed to my friends. “It would have been nice to have an uninterrupted night, but never mind.”
“At least you had some fun first,” Veronica pointed out, swiveling around to face me from her position in the passenger seat. “And you could always show him the steps to the Macarena – that might scare him off.”
“The guy defeated Lucifer. I’m fairly certain that even Angel’s dancing isn’t as scary as that,” Cupid mused thoughtfully.
“I don’t know,” Veronica teased, though I caught her winking at Cupid.
“Maybe I should just let you sing at him,” I teased back.
The ringing didn’t stop until I was standing outside Michael’s door. I took it as a cue to enter and stepped into his office. “You rang?” I asked him cheerfully.
I was greeted by a stony glare as he stepped out from behind his desk. He pointed to the chair in front of it and I quickly sat down. He was glowering at me now, his arms folded, and I couldn’t for the life of me work out what I had done.
“Angel, please repeat the rules back to me,” he said slowly.
“Don’t tell anyone I’m an angel, don’t tell anyone I’m at the convent, don’t drink, don’t do drugs, don’t have sex,” I quickly recited. “Oh,” I exclaimed, working out what he was angry about. “I didn’t drink. We were on non-alcoholic drinks all night.”
A small vein in his hairline started to pulse. “Wrong rule,” he told me, struggling to keep his voice level.
I was confused – I didn’t know which other rule I had broken, and told him as such. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Would you care to tell me how it was your aunt came calling while you were out?”
I blinked. Well that wasn’t possible. I hadn’t spoken to my aunt, unless you counted that dream, and let’s face it – dreams aren’t exactly like phone calls. They’re your subconscious helping you to deal with something that is bothering you. “But-” I tried to explain, but Michael was having none of it.
“It appears that you have too much free time on your hands, Angel. As such, I am increasing your training sessions and you will undertake additional duties as a messenger.”
“But-” I tried to explain again.
Again, he cut me off, holding his hand up. “I don’t want excuses.” He leaned behind him and picked a cream envelope off his desk, handing it to me. “You can start with this one.”
“Baton Rouge?” I exclaimed as I read the address. “That’s over an hour away.”
“You’d best get driving then,” he informed me. “And change into something appropriate before you go.”
I stalked out of the room, not caring if I slammed the door behind me. Stupid archangel. I knew for a fact that the only time I had spoken to my aunt since I’d died was in that dream and that didn’t really happen. Which meant someone else had spoken to her, not me. He wouldn’t even hear me out. I may have thought that the rules sucked, but I wasn’t going to go out of my way to break them, three days into being an angel.
I contemplated ignoring his request to change but thought better of it, although I didn’t remove the makeup. I grabbed a set of car keys and began my journey to Baton Rouge.
I’d only visited Baton Rouge a couple of times, but I recognized the address that was given to me. It was hard not to really – it was one of the riverboat casinos which sat on the Mississippi. I had no idea what business angels have with a casino and because I was still in a bad mood when I got there, I didn’t even question it. I just marched up to the security guy at the door and told him I had a message for somebody called Mr. Cajetan . As soon as the guard saw the envelope, he waved a hostess over and she led me to an office in the upper levels of the boat where the man was waiting for me.
He resembled a bird with his long neck and beaked nose, but he didn’t seem surprised that I was delivering a message at two in the morning. He simply took it off me, read it, made a scrawling on it, and gave it back to me.
Wordlessly, I stalked back to the car, throwing the paper on the passenger seat before turning the ignition on. I drove back to the convent in silence, trying to work out who could have possibly spoken to my aunt, or who seemed to have it out for me.
The only people I knew were Cupid and Veronica, and of course Michael. The first two were my friends, and the last, well I couldn’t understand why he would make something like that up. The only other person who knew I was dead was Josh – but he didn’t know I was at the convent.
Being dead was more confusing than being alive. My confusion, however, had turned to anger by the time I pulled back my covers and slipped into my bed. All I really wanted to do was give Michael a piece of my mind – how dare he accuse me of something without any proof? I rolled onto my side, yanked the covers over my head and forced myself to get some sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dream Walking
I was dreaming again. I had to be, because I could walk on clouds. That’s where I was – up in the sky, wandering around on clouds. They felt solid enough that I wasn’t worried that I would fall through, but at the same time, they felt squishy underneath my feet.
It was also pleasantly warm with a soft breeze on my naked arms. I glanced down at myself. Tonight I was wearing a barely-there strappy black top with a pair of fitted jeans, although my feet were bare, and my hair was still, unfortunately, red.
I kept walking, taking in the wonderful views. Then I came across a figure, his back to me. I recognized him straight away. Michael. Perfect. If I couldn’t rant at him when I was awake, I was damn well going to do it in my dreams, and there was nothing he could do about it.
I marched right up to him and jabbed him in the shoulder, causing him to whirl around in alarm. “Angel?”
“Damn straight,” I growled at him. “And I have a bone to pick with you.” I held my hand up, silencing him from whatever comment he was going to make – this was my dream, not his.
“How dare you accuse me of breaking rules?” I asked him, my temper already bubbling. “Yes, I think half of the damn things are completely ridiculous, but they’re rules and I would never go out of my way to break them.” He opened his mouth again, but I jumped in quickly. “You tricked me into being an angel – maybe not intentionally, but I would never have signed on if I knew you were going to be my Nazi slave driver for all of eternity,” I ranted. The dam had burst and I couldn’t hold back. “I am trying. I am trying so hard and even then I can’t keep up with what you want me to do. I have been dead three days. Three. And you know what I mean,” I added, seeing his expression.
“And to top it all off, you brought me back to the city I have been living in for the past seven years. I have friends here – family – and I’m not allowed to tell them? Fine, I won’t, and I haven’t, but what happens when I bump into them? It’s not that big a city for it to be an impossibility. So are you saying that I should spend all my time in that stupid convent?
“Yes, I have issues with that convent too. Would it kill anybody to have some color on the walls? Or a television, or computers – if I have to spend my life confined to those four walls, wouldn’t it be nice to have something to occupy my time with other than a stupid Bible?”
“Angel!” Michael snapped, finally cutting me off. “I want you in my room immediately.” And then he disappeared.
* * *
I awoke with a start to the familiar sound of bells ringing in my head. That rant had been exceedingly cathartic, although now the incessant ringing had started up again, I was beginning to realize it hadn’t been enough.
I stomped upstairs to his rooms refusing to get changed. If he was going to summon me at ridiculous hours in the morning, well I was going to appear in whatever the hell I wanted. As usual, the ringing stopped as soon as I approached the door – not that they would have stopped me from marching in like I did. “What?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. “What the hell is so important that you couldn’t possibly wait for me to get more than an hour’s sleep?”
I glared at him, trying to remain angry, but he was very distracting. He was wearing a pair
of green silken pajama bottoms, and those alone. His bare chest was staring at me with its naked glory, and boy was it glorious. Like the rest of him, it was perfectly sculptured, and it was perfectly distracting.
He was also watching me in bewilderment, like somehow I had solved the greatest mystery on earth. I sighed. “What have I done now?”
“When you spoke to your aunt,” he started slowly.
I shook my head and cut him off. “I didn’t speak to my aunt – that is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“When you spoke to your aunt,” he repeated more forcefully, although he didn’t look angry. He took a few steps towards me. “When you spoke to your aunt, was it in a dream?”
My mouth fell open. “How did you know that?”
“You appeared in my dream,” he told me. “You’re a Dream Walker.”
I only heard the first part because the second was deafened by the sound of my blood pounding in my ears. I hadn’t exactly held back when I had been ranting at an archangel – I’d called him a Nazi slave driver. I could feel the world spinning around me, the pounding getting louder, and then I blacked out.
I woke up on the couch, Michael's face hovering just above mine, awash with concern. “Angel?” he asked, softly.
I curled up into a fetal position and squeezed my eyes shut – maybe this was a dream too? My eyes shot back open as Michael laid a warm hand on my arm. “Are you alright?”
“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, unable to look in him the eyes. “I should never have said those things.”
“Did you mean them?” he asked gently.
“Some of them,” I admitted, guiltily. “Not that it makes it alright.”
“Angel, you can be forgiven for thinking that it was a dream, but you should talk to me if things are upsetting you,” he told me.
“I tried to talk to you last night, but you didn’t listen. You just sent me to the other side of the state.” It was hardly the other side of the state, but that wasn’t my point. He was hardly the most approachable person.
