Divine Dora

by Claire Chilton

  Scanning the patrons milling around the place, some lounging in plush leather couches and others leaning against the bar, he noted that the clientele were all equally designer in their clothing.

  “…Yeah, well you have flat-ass, and your—” He heard Pooey exclaim as the door swung open behind him, inviting a draft into the perfectly temperate room. The little demon was silent for a moment, but not for long. “Holy snazzy fuck!”

  “Yes, that was the name they were going to go with, but Heavenly Bodies won in the end,” Lucian muttered.

  “Why, is it a whore house?” Pooey asked.

  Kieron winced as a chubby little angel hurried toward them. He had a fat Cuban cigar hanging from his lip, and he wore a black suit that was straining around his rounded belly that was threatening to pop off the buttons.

  “Lucian, my old friend!” The chubby angel cried as he rushed over, pushing past Kieron to give Lucian a hug. After kissing the Fallen One on both cheeks, he stood back and looked him up and down. “It’s been too long. You’ve lost weight.”

  Lucian shrugged. “Hi Gale, how’s tricks? I love the new look.”

  Gale turned around and clicked his fingers. “Miguel, clear out the executive seats, now!”

  Pooey shot Kieron a look of surprise, mouthing the words: ‘what the fuck?’

  Kieron shook his head.

  “Come, come, mon ami. We shall drink and reminisce, no?” Gale gripped Lucian’s arm and led him toward the bar. “And your friends are welcome too of course, come!” He glanced back over his shoulder at Pooey and Kieron, giving a command that caused them both to jump.

  “This is gonna be interesting,” Pooey muttered to Kieron out of the side of his mouth.

  “What do you mean?” Kieron whispered back.

  “Gale looks like the Godfather’s cheerful younger brother.”

  Kieron studied the man as they followed him through the crowds of people, heading for the darker area at the back of the room. He was a jolly, chubby little angel. But the gaudy rings on his stubby little fingers, the suit and the cigar were all a bit gangster-like. “Maybe he just likes to dress that way.”

  “Yeah.” Pooey nodded as the sarcasm dripped off his tongue. “I totally can’t imagine him sticking a horse’s head in my bed.”

  Trying to ignore the imagery that Pooey created, Kieron followed Lucian and Gale, wondering what nightmare his father was going to lead them into this time. At least no one was trying to kill them yet. It was an improvement on the rest of Heaven.

  “Sit, sit.” The little angel waved his hand at the table while puffing on his cigar as Kieron and Pooey reached him and Lucian, who were already seated in the plush booth.

  Pooey and Kieron slid onto the opposite padded bench.

  Kieron peered at their host, trying not to stare at the long scar across his cheek, but unable to look away now that he’d noticed it.

  The gangster narrowed his eyes at Kieron.

  Lucian cleared his throat. “So, Gale, I need a favor.”

  “What happened to yer face?” Pooey asked in a loud voice that caused Kieron to wince.

  Lucian shook his head and closed his eyes in what looked like a moment of silent pain.

  “What’s it to ya?” Gale asked with narrowed eyes.

  Pooey shrugged. “It looks cool. Was it an epic fight?”

  Gale’s moody expression lit up into a smile. “That it was, my little friend. I took on the Angel Guard, and I won.”

  “We’re they trying to burn you for being a demon too?” Pooey asked.

  “I went against my cast.” Gale shrugged. “They don’t like us to disobey.”

  “Anarchy, I like it.” Pooey nodded with admiration.

  “When the cherubs don’t fall in line, they take your wings,” Gale muttered ominously.

  “You were a cherub?” Pooey widened his eyes. “What like all harps and love and shit?”

  Kieron tried to imagine Gale as a cherub, but he could only imagine him holding a machine gun during prohibition rather than pointing an arrow of love at someone’s heart.

  “It was a few lifetimes ago, but it’s why I opened this place, a spit in the eye of the angelic regime we live under.” Gale gestured around his bar. “We’ve come a long way from cheap liquor and dancing girls.”

  “You’ve done well, Gale. It’s why I came here. The Guard are after us.” Lucian leaned forward, lowering his voice. “We need your help.”

  “What do you need?” Gale narrowed his eyes.

  “Sanctuary,” Kieron said. “We need a safe place to stay while we find my friend.”

  Gale stubbed out his cigar in the golden ashtray, narrowing his eyes for a moment. “What kind of friend?”

  “She’s not an angel,” Lucian quickly said.

  “Then what’s she doing here?”

  “She’s a human. Well, she migh—ow!” Kieron didn’t finish as Lucian kicked his shin under the table.

  “She’s a human soul that they’re trying to recruit into the guard. We just need to get her out before they convert her.”

  Gale smiled. “Fuck over the Angel Guard? Yeah, I’m in. Come on.” He stood up and smoothed out his suit with a sweep of his hands. “I have the perfect army to help you.” He turned on his heel and began walking toward a closed red door.

  “What the fuck!” Kieron hissed at Lucian while rubbing his leg, which was still stinging from the kick.

  “For fucksake, don’t mention demons here. Even Gale isn’t that open-minded,” Lucian muttered out of the side of his mouth before he stood up and followed the other angel.

  “Well, shit. There are racists everywhere. I was just starting to like the little guy too,” Pooey grumbled as he slid out of the booth and jumped down onto the floor.

  Kieron frowned. “We can’t stay here too long. What if our horns come out?”

  Pooey ruffled his fur. “Let’s just find Dora, and then this nightmare will be over.”

  Kieron nodded before he stood up and followed the little demon.

  As he reached the group, Gale tapped a code into the keypad beside the door before pushing it open and stepping inside.

  Kieron followed Lucian and Pooey into the room, his eyes widening at the gloomy interior. It was a dark room containing hundreds of angels, who were hunched over computer monitors that emitted a dim glow across the walls.

  Frowning, Kieron peered over the nearest angel’s shoulder, studying the images and text on his screen. The angel appeared to be reading a story on a fanfiction website, which judging by the title was a pornography novel about One Direction called:

  SOLD TO 1D IN AN AUCTION ON EBAY: A ONE DIRECTION SEX SLAVE DIARY.

  The angel turned to look at him with a tear glistening in his gray eye.

  “Is it any good?” Kieron asked.

  The angel nodded. “It’s so heart-breaking.” He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve before pointing to the screen. “When she says: Lorna’s POV: Harry did then take me from the behind, and I did scream out my luvs for hiz sexy ass, but I was all fifty-shades, bitches, and like tied up ‘n’ shit… It’s just so… so very human.” The angel hugged himself. “So much emotion…”

  “Right.” Kieron nodded, trying to see something human or emotional in the story. Even for a boy from hell with a grandmother who was no stranger to whips and chains, he couldn’t see anything romantic in the words.

  He turned to Pooey, bending down to whisper in the little demon’s ear. “What’s a POV?”

  Perhaps that is the romantic bit.

  The little demon scratched his head for a moment. “Power of Vengeance?”

  Kieron shook his head. That couldn’t be the meaning.

  Pooey peered at the screen for a moment. “Power of Vagina!” he said loudly, causing several angels to gasp and look up from their computers.

  “Oh great,” Lucian muttered before slapping his forehead.

  The angels began to close their eyes and chant, some falling from their chairs and kn
eeling in prayer.

  “Now they’ll never help us.” Lucian groaned.

  “Why not?” Kieron stared at the room full of praying angels.

  “That stupid ball of shit just invoked their penance.” Lucian pointed to Pooey. “They’ll be praying for fucking days now.”

  “I didn’t do shit.” Pooey scowled at Lucian.

  “You said the unspoken word.”

  “Which word is that?” Kieron asked.

  Lucian turned and narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not going to fucking say it again. They’ll pray for even longer!”

  “Does it sound like vajayjay?” Pooey asked.

  “Yes, and shut up for fucksake!” Lucian snapped.

  “Why do they have to do penance if they mention the, er…” Kieron tried to think of another word for female reproductive anatomy that wasn’t frowned upon by some culture or another, but he found it increasingly difficult to think of any word for vagina that wasn’t a taboo. After going through the many words for female genitalia and unable to think of one that wasn’t considered a bad thing for some stupid fucking reason or another, he eventually shouted out: “Down there!” while pointing to his crotch in an urgent manner.

  “Down there…” The angels behind him chanted in unison, and he turned to find them touching their foreheads to the ground.

  “Seriously?” He turned to Lucian. “What the fuck?”

  Lucian shook his head as if trying to shake off the ridiculousness of the situation. “Well, we were going to get the angel hackers help in finding Dora because they were going to hack into the mainframe. However, since this little shit has just invoked a prayer of penance with his wonderful conversational skills, we’re now stuck with working on the file on our own. Come on.” The ex-angel stepped over Gale, heading for an empty desk ahead of them.

  “Seriously, the mainframe?” Pooey cried as he followed him. “Are we gonna hack in through your backdoor too? Will you be bending over shortly?” The little ninja shot Kieron a look of disbelief.

  “Yeah, keep talking, shit ball. That’ll help make things worse.” Lucian called over his shoulder.

  “There’s no need to be such a cunt about it,” Pooey shouted back at him.

  “Down there…” the angels all chanted around them.

  Kieron sighed, hoping the file about Dora’s whereabouts held more useful information than his companions did.

  Nine

  Village of the Damned

  Dora woke up and rolled over, moaning at the hard ground beneath her. Every muscle in her body ached. She frowned when she felt grass beneath her fingers. Then her eyes snapped open.

  She tried to fight off the fog of sleep and remember where she was as she stared up at the sky through the treetops above her. The thick green leaves trembled in the light breeze as the sunlight filtered through them, shining down into the clearing. Memories of the night before came tumbling back.

  With a shiver, she recalled that her arrival here wasn’t as tranquil as waking up here had been. After the desert, she’d found this forest, which had seemed like a good place to rest. If memory served, she had actually crashed here in every sense. Her wings had given up from exhaustion, and she’d plummeted into this clearing, which had seemed a good place to sleep when she’d landed in it with enough force to create a small crater.

  It was a safe place to rest. You’re still alive, and your brains haven’t been scrambled or eaten.

  At the thought of the zombie angels, she hitched her breath and sat up. She glanced around her. Other than thick green bushes and trees, there was nothing else here.

  Groaning, she pushed herself up off the ground and clambered out of the hole she’d made in the forest floor. She peered down at it with a shiver. It looked a bit like a shallow grave.

  Luckily, the dark thoughts abated when her stomach rumbled. She picked up her bag and peered inside at the food tray. Apparently, gravy and mashed potatoes didn’t travel well because it had all leaked out across the inside of her bag, and it didn’t look very appetizing.

  “Fuck,” she muttered before dropping the bag on the ground beside her.

  She knew she needed to find food and shelter soon. Scanning the sky through the trees, she turned around, trying to work out which direction to go in.

  To her left, there appeared to be smoke billowing in the air. Although probably not a good sign, it was a sign of life.

  And where there’s life, there’s food and shelter.

  After a few moments of debating whether to take her bag or not, she shook her head and left the sack on the forest floor. Nothing in the bag was going to be useful now anyway.

  She turned on her heel and headed through the trees toward the smoke. Whatever it was, it had to be better than zombies, right?

  Shivering at the memories, she tried to shake off the feeling of doom, but it seemed as if doom was all that Heaven had to offer.

  There’s something seriously wrong with this place.

  Brushing through the thick foliage, she scanned the horizon for hints about what she was walking into. As the trees began to clear, becoming sparse, she could make out a small village on the outskirts of the forest.

  Little dwellings with thatched roofs pumped out smoke from their chimneys. The cobbled streets were home to all kinds of angels, street vendors and farmers. She hid in the shadows of the trees, watching them. They didn’t seem evil, but knowing her luck, they were probably all a group of happy ax murderers.

  Come on. It might be a nice place.

  After debating it for a few seconds, she decided to keep herself hidden. She peered down at her white clothing. The Camp Angel prisoner garb wasn’t going to do her any favors. It was bright white and almost glowed in the dark forest.

  Scanning the village again, she caught sight of washing hanging on a line at the back of some of the cottages. The forest bordered the back gardens, meaning that it would be very easy to steal some clothes without being seen.

  Hunching low, she ran through the trees, ducking back occasionally to make sure nobody saw her. Panting as she reached the back of the cottages, she stared at her goal. She needed to cross twenty yards of open field to get to the clothesline.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to motivate herself. Without giving herself time to change her mind, she dashed out from beneath the cover of trees and raced toward the laundry that was blowing in the breeze.

  Breathing raggedly as she crossed the field, she scanned it for people, but no one was there. The first thing she ripped off the line was a dark red cloak, throwing it around her shoulders to cover herself. Next, she grabbed some black pants and a tunic, bundling them up in her arms.

  She scanned the back of the cottage. No one was shouting or looking through the window at her, which was a good sign.

  She saw a pair of mud-caked black boots on the black porch and quickly ran over and snatched those up too. After a quick scan of the area, she ran into the open barn and paused to try to catch her breath.

  Did I get away with it?

  She peered around the barn, her eyes widening. It was not a normal barn with hay and machinery. It was a stone structure, which was home to a forge with an array of weaponry hanging from the back wall.

  Oh great, I’m ripping off the blacksmith.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she grabbed a dagger and a sword off the wall. Then she pulled down a leather knapsack and threw her bounty into it before throwing it over her shoulder.

  Without pause, she fled the barn, racing back across the field into the forest. She ran deep into the woodland, only stopping when she found a clearing.

  Leaning back against a tree, she dropped the bag off her shoulder and peered down at her cache.

  At least I can travel in disguise now.

  She eyed the silver handle of the sword that was poking out of the bag.

  At least I have a weapon now.

  Her heart was still hammering against her chest, so she exhaled slowly as she stripped off her c
lothes and pulled on the black pants and tunic. They were a tight fit, but she managed to squeeze into them by loosening the laces that held them together.

  That blacksmith must be a tiny guy.

  She tied the laces on the back of the bodice. After pulling on the boots—which were a little bit too big, but seemed to fit okay once she tightened the laces—she peered down the leg of one of them. They were knee high with buckles strapped across them. She slipped the dagger through one of the straps, securing it to her shin.

  Next, she picked up the sword and stared at it.

  Where the fuck am I going to put this?

  She peered down at her outfit. There was nowhere to hang a sword. In the end, she dropped it into her bag, deciding to figure it out later.

  It not as if you know how to use a sword anyway.

  She pulled on her cloak, fastening it around her neck and pulling up the hood to cover her face. Then she picked up her bag.

  Okay, I’m ready. I look like fucking Robin Hood, but I’m ready.

  Gritting her teeth, she headed back toward the edge of the forest and peered down the cobble road that led to the village.

  I’m just going to walk in and get some food.

  She nodded, trying to convince herself that it would be easy.

  I’ll be fine, assuming it’s not the Village of the Damned and no one tries to eat my face…

  Keeping her head down as she wandered down the path, she tried to ignore the loud thumping of her pulse in her ears. She forced her breathing to remain calm, which was no mean feat since she was almost certain she was having an anxiety attack.

  The closer she came to other people, the harder it was to maintain a calm exterior. Cold sweat beaded up her back, and her throat was dry as she passed some farmers loading hay onto a cart.

  “Good morrow to ya,” one of the farmers called out.

  She smiled and nodded at him as she passed.

  Okay, so far, so sane.

  She passed a woman selling pies, a fruit vendor and an old tavern. People milling around her brought a sense of both panic and peace. On one hand, she could become lost in the crowds. On the other hand, she was surrounded by angels, which never ended well for her.