Ange du Mal

by Stephanie Kane

  “I’m being insulted by a skull…” Henry said. “How does that even work?”

  “I’m not a skeleton,” Samael said. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing elongated radiuses and ulnas. The skeletal diagram I’d had to label for biology was turning out to be useful.

  Henry cocked his head to the side. “You had me fooled.”

  “Don’t think that because you’re human I won’t eviscerate you,” Samael said.

  “Whoa, Sam. Henry hasn’t done anything,” I said.

  Samael gritted his teeth. “Yes he has. His existence is a thorn in my phalanges.”

  “Why do you hate him so much?” I said.

  “Because Adam has what my brother never did,” Michael said, voice dry.

  “Skin?” I asked.

  Michael’s eyes were like pins. “You.”

  I shook my head. “Nuh-uh. I’m a liberated, single woman. Would you and Sam take a course in boundaries and how not to cross them?”

  Michael looked me up and down. “You were built for Adam. You belong on Heaven’s side.”

  “Whoa, chap, I’m engaged!” Henry said. “She’s pretty and whatever, but I have a fiancé.”

  “I’m not interested in anyone, especially not a stranger,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I don’t need an angelic matchmaker, thank you very much.”

  Samael slumped.

  Michael’s smile was thin. “See, Sam? You’re delusional,” he said. “Eve and any iteration her soul has will never love you. She never did. You were a passing curiosity, nothing more. Whatever beauty you had is gone. You’re a corpse.”

  Samael’s bones rattled.

  “Mike, that was harsh,” Gabriel said. “What Michael means is-”

  “What I mean is that you’re pathetic, pining after something alive. You’re Death.” Michael flexed his wings. “You weren’t meant to love. You were heartless long before you stitched Original Sin into Eve’s flesh. You’re selfish. Cruel. You betray the things you should cherish: Father, your ideals, us. I look at you, and I see nothing of the brother I knew – Heaven’s prince? What a joke.”

  “Michael!” Gabriel said. “Stop being cruel. Do you want this to turn into a bloodbath?”

  Michael tucked his red braid over his shoulder. The fact that I thought the words ‘red braid’ in regards to Heaven’s general made me nearly laugh. I put aside my amusement and listened to the Very Important Conversation:

  “Maybe I do,” said Michael

  Gabriel looked nervous. The veiled angels were silent. I checked them for any signs of hostility. Henry shifted on his Sperrys.

  Samael gave a ragged laugh. “Love? You know nothing of it. All you know is blind obedience. That’s why I was Father’s favorite – I could think.”

  Michael’s eyes were slits. “So that’s what you believe? That your intellect elevates you above us? You’re as stupid as a dung beetle making a nest of crap.”

  Samael stalked closer to his twin, hands fists. “And your mouth is full of feces. Filthy, stinking refuse that spews from your lips like diarrhea. I don’t give a rat’s ass if Shannon cares for me. I will protect her until I’m shattered bone.”

  Michael brandished his sword. “So be it. Brothers, raze this cesspool to ash.”

  The amount of testosterone in the air was on par with the disgusting musk they sprayed at Abercrombie and Fitch that Mo always came home smelling like. Like the cologne, it was giving me a headache.

  Gabriel’s head drooped. She sheltered Henry under her wings, and the two vanished.

  The angels took off. Symbols flashed on their veils, and from their palms poured flame. The street became an inferno.

  “Get back,” Samael said, forcing me to the ground.

  “Thanks for pushing me.”

  “Shut up, Shannon!”

  Blue lightning flashed from his scythe, incinerating several seraphim.

  “That’s a neat party trick,” I said, rubbing my now-bruised backside.

  He swung the scythe in merciless arcs with one hand and pulled his phone out with the other. Samael furiously texted someone – apparently the archdemons. They arrived within seconds, all monstrous in their true forms. I saw a flash of shadow, bullets spiraling into the night, a swarm of insects. Samael towered over me, aiming bolts at the angels and slicing those that approached.

  “How did Heaven breach our defenses?” Beelzebub buzzed, covered in maggots and flies.

  “They found Adam,” Samael grunted.

  Beelzebub cursed. He fired a shot from his revolver, compound eyes reflecting the flare. “This complicates things.”

  “Screw listening to you two. I want to fight,” I said.

  Beelzebub scoffed. “You’ll die.”

  I rose. “I killed Jeqon. Samael said immortals can’t deal fatal blows. But I can. The angels are assholes. I don’t like you, but I like them even less. Let me help.”

  The werewolves howled, biting at angel’s ankles. Beelzebub and Samael shared a long look.

  Samael spoke: “Shannon, you can’t-”

  “I’ll do exactly as you say. Just tell me what to do.”

  Samael shook his head. “It’s too chaotic. Jeqon was a single target. These are dozens of seraphim, not a single Watcher. And Michael…”

  Anger painted my cheeks. “They’re trying to kidnap me and make me marry Harry Styles!”

  The Reaper chopped an angel to ribbons. “I can’t let you fight. I’d have to possess you for you to even stand a chance.”

  “Then do it.”

  “I – what?”

  My hands balled into fists. “Do it. I want to fight, damn it. I’m sick of being useless!”

  “Shannon, are you sure? Like really, absolutely sure? This isn’t just you being your usual stubborn self.”

  I nodded.

  Beelzebub met Samael’s eyes. “It’s our best bet for damage control,” Beelzebub said. “It will take too long to bind the angels. Killing them is much more effective.”

  “See?” I said. “Just make sure I don’t vomit green goo.”

  I could almost hear gears churn in Samael’s skull. Finally, he handed me his scythe. “Calm yourself, and steady your breathing. This may sting.”

  I grasped his weapon’s staff. “Okay, nurse. Ready for the injection.”

  “Take this seriously and close your eyes,” Samael said. “I’m going to count down. Three.”

  My world went black.

  “Two.”

  Ice in my bones.

  “One.”

  Pressure. Like a vacuum-

  A flash of red.

  My spine jolted straight. It was like a whisk beating my brain. Something stretched inside me, knitting into my marrow. My eyes sprung open, and the world was brilliance, etched in colors I’d never seen. Power coursed through me. Instinctively, I knew what to do.

  Are you alright? Samael’s voice pulsed through my mind.

  “Well, I’m not masturbating with a cross or calling Jesus ‘Daddy.’”

  Good. He sounded relieved.

  I felt something brush my neck. Like a feather duster. I looked to see shadowy wings attached to my shoulder blades.

  “I HATE HEIGHTS! This was not in the Possession Instruction Manual, jackass”

  Whoops.

  My wings pumped of their own volition. I sprung off the ground, soaring into the air.

  “You did that just to spite me. Urgh, I feel sick.”

  Think of me as pilot control. I’ll take over when you’re in danger.

  “I’m always in danger with you!”

  An angel veered in my direction. It swooped down, flaming palms extended. I flew to the left, avoiding the stream of fire.

  It was like a reflex: I aimed the scythe and squeezed, emitting a bolt of lightning. It struck the angel through the heart, and the seraph turned to ash.

  “I did that? But how? I suck at Mortal Kombat.”

  Everything I know, you know.

  “So unlike video games, I actuall
y have brawl skills now.”

  Looking down, I saw that Damien’s bar was on fire. Fury broiled in my gut. “Let’s wreck these mother-lovers.”

  It would be my pleasure.

  I thrilled at the ease with which I disposed of the angelic drones. Fighting beside the archdemons, we made quick work of them.

  Rofocale and Belial cornered several angels, dealt the first blows, and I took care of the rest. We were soon down to the last host of angels. The six other demons weakened the seraphs and I delivered the killing strikes. Samael was silent, allowing me to focus. A foreign pleasure – bloodlust – heated my guts. My possessor seemed to enjoy slaughter.

  Michael was nowhere in sight.

  “Where’s the ginger?”

  You’re a ginger too, maggot. Michael’s gone. He won’t make a move now that I’ve possessed you – he doesn’t want to put your body at risk.

  “Must be keeping it pristine for my wedding night to the lead of One Direction.”

  Hell’s equivalent of the fire department was hard at work. Soon, the inferno was put out, leaving behind drenched, but intact, buildings. Pandemonium’s market district had suffered, but Damien’s bar seemed to have resisted the flames. Only the front was singed.

  I landed beside the werewolves. My muscles relaxed, and my mouth opened. Black smoke poured from my lips, like I’d inhaled a hundred cigarettes.

  I sputtered. The dark cloud formed itself into a shadowy robe.

  Samael stretched. “That was impressive. You’re a natural.”

  I shivered, feeling hollow. “That was nothing like a video game.”

  He steadied me. “Do you feel alright?”

  I was dizzy. “As good as I’d expect.”

  The archdemons peered at me. I flinched.

  “Why are you wearing a wig?” Belial asked.

  “It’s Halloween. I’m Elvira,” I said, weak. “I’m not feeling very festive though. I think I’m going to puke.”

  Up went the margarita, all over Samael’s robes. It was my own kind of revenge.

  “Damn,” Samael said.

  I collapsed. His bony arms caught me.

  “I’ll care for her,” said Samael. “Beel, oversee defense. I want legions deployed throughout Pandemonium to ensure no more angels slipped through the hellmouth Henry opened. Rofocale, do a financial assessment on the property damage. The rest of you find some way to be useful.”

  The archdemons debated the best way to approach reconstruction. Samael carried me to his motorcycle. He held me close as we sped to his estate. I shivered as wind bit my skin. My wig flew off at an intersection and I lost both stilettos.

  “Erm, you should rest,” Samael said, parking in front of his mansion.

  I mumbled incoherently.

  He pressed two finger bones to my brow, like he had the first night we met, and I fell asleep, clearly not cut out for the Paradise Lost version of Call of Duty.

  Chapter 12

  I awoke in the girlish blue room near the courtyard. Sunlight threaded through the windows. Samael was asleep in an armchair, a book of Walt Whitman poetry on his lap. Halloween over, he had returned to his human form, with dark circles under his eyes and uncomfortable-looking piercings. He snored loudly, like he had sleep apnea.

  There was some kind of sweet-smelling poultice on my brow. I undid the bandage holding it in place and used a towel from the nightstand to wipe off the paste. I glanced in the mirror: my makeup was gone, and I wore a kimono-like robe with lotus blossoms, supposedly meant for sleep. The perv had changed me again.

  “Well that’s embarrassing,” I muttered. “Good thing he doesn’t like redheads.”

  I paused, remembering his absinthe-fueled words:

  You have her eyes. It’s like being haunted.

  And Michael’s speech:

  You’re delusional. She’ll never love you.

  I panicked. “He’s still in love with Eve. And I look just like her. I am her - no, no no no.”

  I remembered Rosanna’s tarot cards: my soul mate had been the Devil. Nervous sweat gelled my hands.

  Samael grumbled: “Shut it. I’m trying to sleep.” He didn’t open his eyes.

  I chucked a pillow at him. “We have to talk, loser.”

  He yawned. “What?”

  I crossed my arms. “You were a pill last night.”

  He smirked. “Pills are good for you.”

  “Not only were you a jerk, you – you-”

  “Spit it out.”

  “You can’t like me!”

  His lips were a hard line.

  I continued: “It’s not right. I’m not a necrophiliac. You’re like a bajillion years old. It’s practically pedophilia.”

  “Are you done yet?”

  I fisted the covers. “I – I – no! You annoy me, with your stupid jokes and sarcasm. You think you’re tough, but you’re not. You’re just a lonely, bitter old skeleton – angel – demon – thing. Crap, I don’t even know what you are but a pain in my ass. Ugh.” I rolled onto my side, facing away from him. I screamed into a pillow.

  He sighed.

  “You’re not even denying it,” I said, staring at the wall.

  “You wanted me to stop lying to you.”

  Sunlight crept onto the armoire. I turned to Samael. He was weary. “You have horrible taste in women,” I said. “Lilith the baby-killer. Eve the apple-picking sinner. What did you even see in her?”

  His eyes were like the heart of a flame. “What I see in you.”

  I cringed. “So it is about me?” I said. “You’re not just projecting your feelings for your dead girlfriend? You’re in love with me? You don’t even know me!”

  Samael bowed his head. “You have Eve’s spirit. Her wit.” He toyed with an undone armchair thread. “Last night, you were amazing. Being inside you felt like being home.”

  My jaw dropped. “DON’T MAKE THIS SEXUAL.”

  He gave a rough laugh. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

  “You’re a pig!”

  I stormed from the room.

  “Shannon, wait-”

  “Eat roadkill, you vulture.”

  He caught my wrist. “Shannon,” he said, voice low.

  “What?” I yelled.

  “It was just a joke. I didn’t mean-”

  “It doesn’t matter what you meant, because you did it anyway! You’re a manchild. I’d rather marry the sheep dude.”

  “Please.” He tugged me toward him. “You need rest. You’re still weak.”

  “Then get out of this room.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  He was close. Too close. I could feel his breath on my skin.

  “I hate you. You annoy me. You scare me.”

  He winced. “I don’t mean to.” He clasped my hands in his.

  “Please, just let me go.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “I don’t care what you want! You’re Death. You’re supposed to be cold, emotionless – you shouldn’t even exist.” I shook my head. “But that’s not the thing that scares me. What scares me is that you go from gallows humor one minute to filleting someone the next. You’re unpredictable. I can’t – I could never.”

  What color was in his face drained.

  I continued: “Last night, when you possessed me, I could feel your emotions. You loved killing the angels. It was like a slasher flick to you.”

  “They were trying to hurt you,” he said quietly.

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re too different. It’s wrong, and it wouldn’t work. You disgust me.”

  He let go of my hands, then straightened his collar.

  Samael looked away. “You should get more rest. I’ll make breakfast.”

  “Like I can go back to sleep.” I glanced at the rising sun. “I should get back to Earth.”

  “Alright, um - I’ll take you home.”

  October exited in fiery brilliance, giving way to November. Winter’s first snow came after Thanksgiving, and cam
pus was frosted with sugar. I spent my days studying and painting, preparing for the art department’s Winter Exhibition. Samael and I never spoke of what had passed between us. He seemed distant, focused on my training. Now that Heaven had an ascendant, most of his efforts went into guarding Hell’s border. He used me to lock the hellmouths Henry had opened. We never discussed possession, and the archdemons laid off me, sensing our dynamic had changed. We were on the defensive, cautiously fixing the damage the angels had caused during the Halloween fiasco. We prepared for the worst.