When Death Loved an Angel

by Cheree Alsop

  “There was something in your eyes,” she admitted.

  “My eyes?” Death repeated, unsure where she was going.

  She nodded and told him the truth. “You might be all scary and glowering, but your eyes said I could trust you if I could get you to say you would wait.”

  Death stared at her. “But in waiting I’ve ruined your life.”

  “What life?” she asked, waving her hand around the garden. “Life is going on around me, but I’m merely a spectator. I don’t matter in all of this.” Her voice choked off and she turned away.

  Death put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “You mattered to me,” he said softly. “You found the humanity in me I didn’t dare believe existed.”

  She looked up at him at the same time that a couple rounded the corner. They laughed and held onto each other, obviously a bit inebriated. Death watched with emotionless eyes, sure the couple was going to walk right through Nyra.

  The woman ran into Nyra. “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you standing there!” she exclaimed, brushing off Nyra’s shirt as though running into her had left some sort of debris. “I must be a bit tipsy,” the woman said. She leaned against the man. He laughed and helped her around the pair. Their laughter followed them around a wall and out of sight.

  Nyra stared after them. “Did that just happen?” she asked, her voice trembling. She touched her shoulder where the woman had brushed past her. Her fingers felt the fabric up and down, touching cloth for the first time in so many years.

  Death caught her hand. “I know how it feels,” he said. When she continued to stare after the couple, Death tipped her face gently toward him. “I know how it feels,” he stressed. Her eyebrows drew together and he nodded. “Since I’ve been around you, I’ve started to feel things again.” He opened his arms. “I shouldn’t be here right now, in living form. You changed something for me.”

  “In living form,” Nyra repeated. She touched her first finger and thumb together, then reached up and ran her fingers over the scruff on Death’s jaw.

  He closed his eyes. Nyra traced his face, memorizing the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers. She touched his lips, then paused. She rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him gently on the lips. She felt his body go completely still, then a sigh escaped him and he kissed her back. His kissed melted into her, caressing her soul, soothing the raging thoughts in her mind, filling her with all the moments he had longed for, the passion, the connection, the rightness of one soul choosing another.

  After several long minutes, Nyra stepped back. A smile spread across her face, slowly at first, then parting her lips. “You’re incredible.”

  Death shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I did it,” she said. She put a hand along his jaw in the exact place he had longed to touch her earlier.

  She read the truth in his eyes, his honest, bare, stark gray eyes. Death wanted to hold her, yet at the same time wanted to hide from the honesty and trust that spoke through her fingers. He felt as though he didn’t deserve her love.

  “I love you,” she said in a whisper. The truth in the words surged through her body with warmth and strength.

  He stared at her, denial and hope bright in his eyes. “How can you?” he asked, his voice breaking.

  “Because I know who you really are,” she said. It was the truth. He hadn’t hidden anything from her. She knew what he could be, who he was, and what he fought down because of the painful reality of his job. “I love you.”

  He closed his eyes as though afraid such an admission would destroy him. She touched his face, willing him to open his eyes again. When he did, he stared down at her with amazement and wonder bright in his gaze. “I love you, Nyra.”

  She stared up at the love in his eyes, willing herself to accept that she deserved such an expression.

  He took her hand and drew it to his chest. “Do you feel that?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded, watching him and unable to speak.

  “You made my heart beat,” he whispered. “I was nothing without you, a heartless fiend, a job without a face. I performed my duties because there was nothing else. It was all I knew. I never questioned, never held any guilt. . . .” The last few words were the hardest to get out. He swallowed, “Never knew how wrong I was until now.” She could tell he didn’t want to say the rest, but he forced out, “I’m not good for you. I will only bring you sorrow.”

  She shook her head and smiled up at him. “You’ve given me so much happiness I can’t even begin to thank you.”

  Death bowed his head, unwilling to believe it. “It’s because of me that you can’t be a guardian angel anymore.”

  Nyra’s voice was quiet when she replied, “I don’t want to be a guardian angel anymore. I want to be with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  DEATH

  The truth in her words stole Death’s resolve. He dared a quick glance at her. The love that shone through her eyes ate away his doubts. He nodded once, then again. A hesitant smile touched his lips. “Run away with me.”

  “Gladly.”

  It felt fitting to take Nyra on the subway. So much had changed for Death. He breathed because he had to. His heart beat without hesitation and his lungs demanded to be filled. Nyra’s hand in his kept him anchored. He traveled through the city as if seeing it for the first time.

  People laughed and talked around them. They no longer avoided sitting near Death; instead, it seemed as if the benches closest to them were soon crowded with others drawn in by Nyra’s charm and beauty. She could make any child smile and drew a laugh from the most depressed men. By the time the subway pulled up to their destination, people were calling farewell and wishing them good luck in their journey.

  “I’ve never felt so alive,” Nyra exclaimed with her hand at the crook of Death’s elbow and a smile on her face so bright it filled him with joy every time he looked at her.

  “You’re amazing,” he said because he couldn’t help himself.

  “You’re the amazing one,” she replied. “You made this happen.”

  Death led her slowly through the trees of his favorite park. The sun was setting, casting the air in shimmering gold while leaves waved at them in the gentle evening breeze. It was quiet beneath the trees, a sanctuary in the heart of the city.

  “Can we live like this?” Nyra asked, her voice soft.

  “I would live a hundred lifetimes like this,” Death replied.

  She smiled and leaned against his shoulder as they walked. He soaked in the feeling of her hand on his arm, tracing the broken pattern of his shirtsleeve. “You need new clothes.”

  He smiled. “I’ve never bought clothes before.”

  “Neither have I.” Excitement touched her words. “Do you think I can get a job?”

  Death laughed. On impulse, he picked her up and spun her around. “Nyra, with that smile you could get whatever job you want.” He drew her in close and kissed her soundly. When he set her down, she leaned against his arm again humming softly as they wandered through the trees.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He gave her a warm smile. “Trust me.”

  They came to a small diner where Death had taken a few souls over the years. The people who ate there always spoke about how good it was. That was why he came back. He led Nyra inside and soon they were seated at a booth near one of the corner windows. The view overlooked the trees at the edge of the park. A mother walked past holding hands with two little twin girls. Their laughter was audible through the window.

  Nyra’s smile faded and was replaced with a thoughtful look. “What does it feel like to have a heartbeat?” she asked softly. “It’s been so long I don’t remember.”

  Death looked at her, really looked at her, before he answered, “You miss having a heartbeat?”

  She nodded; the lamp overhead reflected in her distant gaze. “I do.” She smiled down at the table, remembering, “I remember nursing school. Taking ca
re of others meant so much to me.”

  Death stared at her, willing his heart to stop pounding so loud. “What, I mean. . . .” He frowned at his hands clenched in front of him on the table. He didn’t remember bringing them there, but the skin was white where his fingers pressed, something that had never happened before. “Do you remember what it was like being alive?”

  She nodded and he felt the whisper of quiet hope he had always harbored shattered against his chest. If she remembered being alive, being a living, breathing person, that meant he truly had never been. Once in a great while when he allowed himself to question his purpose or origin, he had entertained the thought that maybe he had been a real person once. Maybe he had fit in among them, instead of always outside. That thought had carried him through to the next day, and then there was another list, another set of souls to steal, pleasures to obtain from whatever source he could during his brief hour of living, and then the darkness. It was false. All of it. He had never been alive.

  He bowed his head. I never deserved it anyway.

  “Are you alright?” Nyra asked gently.

  Death looked up at her with a haunted gaze. “You shouldn’t be with me. I’ve done bad things.”

  Her eyes creased at the corners and she looked like she was about to laugh. “You’re the angel of death,” she said as though that should explain everything.

  Death leaned over the small table and grabbed her by the shoulders. He looked her intensely in the eyes. She had to understand. He had to make sure she knew who she was with. “Listen to me, Nyra. I’m not an angel of anything. I am Death, and everything that means!”

  He sat back, suddenly ashamed of how he had spoken to her, of touching her at all. He needed to leave, but her voice stopped him.

  “Then who put you there?” she asked. There was no judgment in her voice, only a current of understanding that undermined the fear he wished to put into her, to chase her away from him so he wouldn’t hurt her like he did everyone else.

  He met her gaze, his words soft, his soul or whatever he had left laid bare for her because he had nothing left. “No one.” The ache in his words told of the loss he kept inside, his loneliness, his guilt. He couldn’t meet her gaze anymore. Her eyes held everything, and he was nothing. He closed his eyes, shutting her out. “I’m just Death. That’s all there is to me.”

  Soft fingers touched his chin, drawing his face up. He couldn’t withstand her, even now. He opened his eyes reluctantly. “I don’t believe that,” she said, her voice soft and firm at the same time. “When I look into your eyes, I don’t believe that at all.”

  “Why not?” he whispered, needing to understand with every bit of his being. His heart cried out to be heard; every beat sent pain through his limbs. He blinked back tears.

  She spoke in a voice quiet enough for only him to hear. “I see your soul through your eyes, and it’s beautiful. Even when the doctors were operating on Gregan and you reached out to take him, I saw something there that said I could trust you. I don’t regret giving you that trust, and I never will.”

  Her words thrummed through him and around him, soothing jagged edges and giving him something to hold onto. Even if they were only words, she had spoken them and she believed them.

  Death held onto her belief like a lifeline. If she could think such things of him, maybe somehow the tiniest part of it could be true. If that was the case, maybe his hope wasn’t destroyed. He rubbed his eyes in an effort to wipe away tears before they could give away the true depth of his pain and relief. She caught his hand, then brushed away one last tear with the tip of her fingers.

  Nyra’s warm smile nearly melted Death’s heart. “The last time I heard, Death doesn’t cry. He’s mean and scary, and doesn’t have a caring bone in his body. There’s no use confronting Death; the souls he takes are just his job, not people.” Her smile softened her words, turning them so that Death smiled in return. She pulled his arm toward her and pushed the sleeve back to reveal the names. “If I’m not mistaken,” she continued, “This contradicts everything I’ve ever heard about Death.”

  He rubbed a hand self-consciously over the names. They ached less than they did before. He wondered what that meant.

  “Coffee?”

  Both turned at the waitress’ voice. Death slid his arm away and pulled the sleeve back down before she noticed the names. Her tag read Doreen. When he noticed it, his arm gave a slight throb. He glanced down and saw the name Doreen Daily written just below Gordon’s darker one. He let out a slow breath. “Orange juice,” he said, remembering at the last minute to finish with, “Please.”

  Nyra requested the same, and when the waitress walked away, she raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Death uses the word please?”

  He shrugged and gave her a charming smile. It was close to the one he used to get whatever he wanted, but the edges were softened, and the light in his eyes carried a hint of uncertainty. “I guess that’s what happens when you hang out with an angel.”

  “So if I start acting all scary and swaggering around like I own the place, watch out,” Nyra said. She tried a fierce glower, but it only made him laugh.

  “I don’t swagger,” he informed her.

  Her lips pursed and a dimple showed in her right cheek. “You’re sure about that?”

  He chuckled again. “You’re hard on my self-esteem.”

  “Somebody has to be,” she replied.

  The waitress brought two cups of orange juice. Death took a tentative sip. A smile broke across his face. “This is amazing!”

  Nyra set hers back down, her expression discomfited.

  “You can’t taste it?” Death guessed, his heart falling.

  She shook her head, but ran a finger down the condensation. “No, but it’s cold. Do you know how long it’s been since I felt cold?” She smiled up at him, true joy in her eyes.

  “We’ll go,” Death said suddenly. “If you can’t taste it, I don’t want to eat.”

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. He stared at her, amazed that anyone dared touch him like that. “You are getting a meal and that’s that, so stay here!”

  One side of him wanted to argue, but the other noted that the smells in the diner definitely warranted a try of the menu. If orange juice could taste so good, what else had he been missing out on?

  He ordered a grilled cheese sandwich with a pickle on the side. When the waitress left, he found Nyra watching him with a bemused smile. “What?” he asked self-consciously.

  “You can have anything here and you order from the kids’ menu?”

  He shrugged and gave an embarrassed grin. “I’ve overheard several people say that grilled cheese sandwiches are the best in the world.”

  “And how old were these people?”

  His grin widened. “Rather youngish.”

  She laughed and for that moment everything felt right. Death stared at her, caught himself staring at her, and continued staring. She was so perfect, so beautiful, so sweet, and yet she was at the diner with him laughing and joking as if they had been friends for years.

  He felt a tremor of worry that the moment would disappear forever. He pushed the feeling aside, determined to soak in every second he could get with her. If something went terribly wrong, at least he had his moment to remember.

  When the grilled cheese sandwich arrived, he studied it as though half expecting it to walk off the yellow plate.

  “Go on,” Nyra urged.

  He picked up one triangle-shaped section, then felt her gaze. “Don’t watch,” he said.

  She laughed at his expression. Several people turned from other tables to look at them. “You’re like a little boy,” she said.

  He nodded. “Little boys don’t like to be stared at,” he told her with mock seriousness. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Very well,” she gave in with another laugh. She turned so that she was facing the table behind them. “But it’s going to be just as good as you’re hoping it is.”

&n
bsp; Death took a bite and couldn’t muffle the sigh that escaped him as melted cheese, butter, and sourdough bread met his tongue. “That is amazing,” he said, his mouth full. She giggled and he looked up to find her watching him. A glance around showed onlookers from many of the other tables as well. “I said that quite loud, didn’t I?” he asked. He felt his cheeks heat up, something he wasn’t used to.

  “Yes,” she agreed. She put a hand to his face as though she couldn’t help the urge to touch him. “But a blush is very becoming on you.” When he ducked his head, her smile softened. “I’m glad it’s as good as they said it would be.”

  He looked up at her. “I wish you could taste it.”

  She shrugged as though it didn’t matter, but there was a hint of longing in her eyes. “It’s alright. I’m just happy to be with you.”

  A thought occurred to him. He motioned for the waitress. “Can I get a to-go box?”

  At Nyra’s confused look, he smiled. “Just wait and see.”

  The waitress brought back a styrofoam box and a piece of paper. “That’ll be six seventy-five. I’ll be your cashier when you’re ready.”

  Death felt his heart drop into his shoes. He had completely forgotten about payment. Nothing was free; above anyone, he should have remembered that.

  Nyra watched him with a helpless look. He was about to take the receipt to the front and explain that he had forgotten his money when an older couple paused at their table. A man with sparse hair and twinkling eyes took the receipt from Death’s hand. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to take care of that.”

  His wife leaned over his arm. “You two are such a cute couple. We come to this diner every Friday and it made our day to watch you.”

  She squeezed Nyra’s hand and the man patted Death on the shoulder. “Take care of yourselves,” he said. His wife took his arm and they walked to the front of the diner together.

  “That was unexpected,” Nyra said. “How sweet!” She turned to find Death watching them.