by T. R. Hamby
After dinner she sighed. It had been delicious--her dad’s recipe--but she was still starving, and had the strongest craving for ice cream.
Mel looked at her. “What is it, Angela?”
She rolled her eyes at the nickname. “Must be hormones, still. I’d kill for some ice cream right now.”
“What kind’s your favorite?”
She thought for a moment and smiled. “Pistachio. With walnuts.”
“That sounds good.”
“A guy like you probably doesn’t eat something as fattening as ice cream,” she teased.
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “I love it, actually. There’s a shop in Bern that has the best chocolate ice cream. I tried bribing the owner for the recipe, but he wouldn’t give it to me.”
“Are you telling me your charm didn’t work on someone?” Nora said, feigning a gasp, and he chuckled. “But I bet it doesn’t work half as well on men as it does on women. Straight men, anyway,” she added with a wink, and he blushed again.
He took out his phone and tapped the screen a couple times. “There’s a shop about ten minutes from here.”
They got up, leaving the dishes for later, and headed for the car. It was cold out--around thirty degrees--and Mel turned the heat on full blast. His hand instantly slipped into hers, and Nora smiled.
They got their ice cream, staying in the warmth of the parlor while they ate. It was getting late, and they were the last customers. The parking lot was nearly abandoned as they returned to the car.
“Thank you,” Nora said, squeezing his hand. He looked at her, a little confused, and she continued, “for everything. I can’t tell you...I’ll never be able to pay you back.”
He gave her a look, and she couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t want to be paid back, Nora. I just want you to be happy.”
“Well, I am,” she replied, smiling at him fondly. “You make me happy.”
His expression suddenly changed; he looked almost confused. He cleared his throat, looking away. “Right. Well--”
But he stopped, frowning at something behind her. Nora turned around, just in time to see a man approaching them, quickly. Suddenly Mel’s hand was on her, pushing her backwards, until she was stumbling behind him.
“Don’t move,” he hissed as the man halted in front of them.
“Penge,” the man barked in Danish. “Nu!”
Nora looked around Mel’s arm and felt her insides turn to ice. He was holding a gun, right in Mel’s face.
Suddenly the air turned even colder. Nora shivered, her knees wobbling, and her heart pounded in her chest. It was happening again...that horrible feeling...the overpowering dread...the fear…
The man must have felt it too, because the gun began to shake. Suddenly it went off, with a loud pop, and Mel let out a growl, grasping his shoulder. Then he snatched the gun away--it was still smoking, and with a flick of his arm, sent it flying into the man’s face.
The man fell to his knees, holding a bleeding nose, and Mel seized Nora’s arm, dragging her to the car.
Her feet weren’t working right, but already the air had warmed a little. She shook her head, trying to clear it, taking deep breaths as she clambered into the car.
Mel got in, breathing heavily, and turned on the engine. “Put your seatbelt on.”
She fumbled with the seatbelt, glancing at him. Something was wrong. He was grimacing, and he was only using his right arm.
“You’re hurt!” she cried, panicking.
He glanced at her again. “Breathe, Nora.”
“We have to go to a hospital,” she said wildly, as they turned away from the city. “Mel--turn around!”
“Nora. Trust me,” he said. His voice had somehow become soothing.
“Are you serious right now?” she nearly shrieked.
He shifted, clearly in pain, and gave her a frustrated look.
This was enough to silence her, but she still stared at him. He must have lost his mind...he was going to bleed out right there...Jesus, he had been shot…
“Mel,” she breathed, “we really need to get you to a hospital.”
“You’re about to see something miraculous,” he said firmly. “I need you to promise me now that you’ll stay at the house. You can hide in the bedroom if you want, but you can’t leave. It’s too cold out, and you have nowhere to go.”
God, not the Angel thing again. She shook her head, swearing under her breath. She was sure what she was about to see didn’t involve the divine. Probably just blood. Lots of blood.
“Promise me,” Mel said, and she sighed.
“I promise.”
They finally pulled into the driveway, and Mel got out of the car, holding his wounded arm against his chest. He was walking fine, striding into the house with Nora on his heels.
As soon as the door was shut behind them he stripped off his shirt.
“In my suitcase there’s a black case,” he grunted, as Nora gasped at the bullet hole in his shoulder. Most of his arm and the left side of his chest was drenched in blood.
“Nora--suitcase.”
She jumped and scurried for the bedroom. She rifled through his luggage, swearing under her breath, unable to believe that this was actually happening. The man’s gun flashed in her mind, and she felt a wave of panic. No, no--not now. Focus.
She found the little black bag, and raced back downstairs. The bathroom light was on, and she stopped at the door.
Mel was standing in the shower, wearing only his boxers, washing the blood off and shivering. Nora set the bag down and approached him, grabbing a washcloth and helping scrub at the blood. The wound was there, clear as day, oozing a rich scarlet liquid onto his chest.
“Fuck,” he groaned, brushing his soaked hair from his face. He turned the water off and nodded at the case. “Could you get me the tweezers, please. The big ones.”
“Mel…”
“Nora--I can’t tell you how much pain I’m in right now--”
“Okay, okay,” she said, grabbing the bag and rooting through it.
She found the tweezers, and he stumbled out of the shower, taking them and standing in front of the mirror.
God, he was really going to do this. It was almost as if he had done this before.
She pressed a hand to her mouth and watched as he stuck the tweezers in the wound. He was swearing under his breath, and blood was still leaking onto his skin.
He swore again, removing the tweezers, a bloody metal shard on the end.
“Fuck,” he said again, dropping both items in the sink. “That fucking hurt. Shit.”
Nora let out a breath, and he looked at her, his blue eyes piercing.
“Watch,” he said, “and don’t be afraid.”
Nora frowned, looking at the hole in his shoulder. At first nothing happened. She was about to tell him to snap out of it when, bizarrely, the wound began to knit itself together. Millimeter by millimeter it closed, turning into a little line on his shoulder--which then vanished. What was left behind was smooth, unblemished skin.
It would have been uncomfortable to watch if it wasn’t so incredible.
For a long time Nora simply stared. She blinked several times.
She had just seen Mel’s shoulder heal itself. There had been a hole, and now there wasn’t. He had bled everywhere; the bathroom smelled thickly of copper, and yet his wound had disappeared.
She looked at him, and he watched her warily.
Panic washed over her again, and she began to shake.
“I’m hallucinating,” she moaned, holding her hands over her mouth.
“No you’re not,” Mel said quickly, but she was shaking her head.
“I am, I am; I’ve done it before; it’s happening again...oh God, oh God…”
He gripped her arms. “You’re not hallucinating,” he said soothingly. “I’m right here; I saw the same thing.”
“I must be hallucinating you too,” she moaned, tears springing to her eyes.
“You know that
’s not true,” he said. “We got on a plane together. Bezi saw me too, remember?”
Bezi. Bezi had gone on about Mel taking care of her at the New Year’s Eve party. And yes, they had gotten on a plane together. He had paid for the tickets, for her clothes.
Because he really was real, and Nora wasn’t hallucinating.
She let out a breath, suddenly dizzy. “I need to sit down…”
“Here,” he said, and he scooped her into his arms. He was still damp, but she didn’t care; she buried her face into his neck and took deep breaths. His familiar scent helped calm her, and her heart began to slow.
He sat down on the couch, still holding her, and she shifted out of his lap. She reached out and touched his shoulder, which was still completely healed.
Then she looked at him, studying his face. “Are you in pain?”
He looked surprised, but shook his head. “No. Not anymore.”
She thought for a moment, feeling almost dazed. “That feeling happened again,” she whispered. “With that man. I was...so scared...I could barely stand.”
He nodded. “My anger.”
“I didn’t fall down, though.”
“I was trying to control myself,” he explained, looking sheepish. “It’s difficult sometimes, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
She nodded vaguely. She touched Mel’s shoulder a third time. Still nothing.
“I’m going to take you to bed,” he finally murmured. “You need to rest. I’ll sleep on the couch...unless you want me there.”
She thought for a moment. She was overwhelmed, tired--and completely flabbergasted. She had just watched her friend get shot, and then miraculously heal himself. She had no idea what to think.
She looked at him. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He looked a little relieved, and nodded. “Anytime you want me to leave, just say. Don’t be afraid of me.”
They trudged to the bedroom. Nora was able to change by herself, though her hands still shook. She laid down in bed while Mel went to the bathroom and dried off. She was suddenly very tired, and her limbs were heavy. She thought of her dad, oddly--how he had held her when she was a little girl, whenever she was afraid.
Mel got into bed with her, slowly, as if afraid he’d spook her. He didn’t hold her, and she appreciated the space.
She took a deep breath, staring at the ruby ring on her finger.
“You really are an Angel,” she whispered. The truth was finally setting in.
“Yes,” he replied quietly. There was bitterness in his voice. “I am Melkira--King of the Wicked.”
Mel
200,000 Years Ago
They arrived at a little cave that night. They had been traveling all day, picking their way through the trees, forging over hills, crossing streams. They were running away, but for how long they could evade Michael, Mel didn’t know.
He knew Lilith was tired. She wasn’t used to walking so far. She sat down, rubbing her feet, and he set about building a fire.
“Do you want to see something?” he asked as the tinder began to smoke.
She looked up, her eyes bright, smiling at him tenderly. “Yes.”
“Come here.”
She shifted over, and he held his hand near the tinder. Suddenly the tinder puffed and sparked, and then burst into flames. The flames danced onto his hand, and he twirled them around, completely unharmed.
She stared, amazed. “How did you do that?”
“It’s a gift,” he explained, shaking his hand until the flames died away. “A Talent. My brother and sisters have their own, as well as many others. But I am the only one that can do this.”
He poked at the fire, careful to keep his sleeve out of the way. “It’s useful. It means I can’t be killed with fire.”
He heard her gasp, and he looked at her. She looked struck, her eyes wide.
“Messengers can die?” she breathed, horrified. “I thought you said you couldn’t.”
He tried to be gentle. “We can’t die of age,” he said, “But we can be injured by fire. A long time ago, a Messenger called Silas...he became very angry with Michael. They began to fight, and I pulled him away. He pushed me into the fire nearby, but I wasn’t hurt.”
He paused, staring into the flames, remembering Silas’s screams. “He had lost all reason. He jumped into the fire and burned to death. That’s how we realized what fire could do to us...to everyone except me.”
Lilith absorbed this, her expression still horrified. “I didn’t think Messengers could...do such things. Try to kill another.”
He thought for a moment.
“I didn’t think so either, until him,” he said slowly. “But after that...I suppose there is some...badness in all of us.”
“But you’re safe,” she said quickly, touching his arm. “You can’t be hurt.”
“I’m sure there’s something out there that can harm me,” he replied, “but it isn’t fire. Don’t worry.”
She drew close to him, leaning against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. When they had been together that morning...hidden in the grass, it had been better than he had ever experienced. Her kiss was so gentle, her touch so intoxicating. And when she looked at him...he was happy.
She was quiet for a moment, lacing her fingers with his. Then she turned her head, looking at him.
“I brought something with me--that you don’t know about,” she said, and she turned to retrieve her basket.
He felt his heart drop. That couldn’t be good.
He watched her rifle through her basket, before withdrawing--
He snatched the fruit from her hand, so quickly that she blinked in surprise.
“Why did you bring it?” he hissed, and he felt a flash of anger.
Lilith shivered slightly, but she rallied. “Because I want to know,” she said firmly, lifting her chin. “I have to know. I’m not a child, Mel. I’m--I have to. I don’t care about Father anymore.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Mel felt his anger fade, and he let out a breath. She was right--she had to know. All this time he had wondered why she couldn’t question, why she couldn’t learn more about her Existence. Michael kept saying the same thing: If she ate the fruit, she would know she could defy Father.
But she had defied Father. They had run away; they had slept together. They were ruining every part of his plan. So what was a little fruit going to do?
He sighed, handing it to her. “You’re right,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
She studied him. “You’re really going to let me eat it?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “We’ve already crossed the line,” he murmured. “I’d rather you not, but...it’s your choice. Not mine. I won’t stop you.”
Her brow furrowed, and she looked down at the fruit in her hands. It was ripe, fat and shiny. She held it for a long moment, biting her lip, before shaking her head and setting it on the ground.
“I can’t,” she sighed, disappointed. “I’m afraid.”
He frowned at her, and she shrugged. “What if it kills me?” she asked desperately.
“Michael didn’t say it would kill.”
“Well...what if it changes me?”
He looked at her. “It might.”
She sighed again, hugging her knees to her chest.
He stared at the little fruit, cocking his head. It was amazing what one little object could do. Even Mel, a Messenger, was tempted by it.
He picked it up, studying it, and then, steeling himself, took a careful bite. It was sweet--refreshing. He chewed and swallowed, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.
Lilith was watching warily. “Well?”
He shook his head, and she frowned. “Perhaps I’m too celestial.”
She bit her lip again, staring at the fruit in his hand. Suddenly she took it from him, squaring her shoulders, and took a large bite. She chewed, closing her eyes at the sweet taste, and then swallowed. They sat there, waiting. For a
long time, nothing happened.
But then Mel felt a shift so strong he nearly fell over. He looked up; the sky was suddenly dark, the animals unsettled, the trees creaking and groaning under a sharp wind.
He looked at Lilith, who was staring at the fruit, shocked.
He grasped her arms. “Are you all right? Lilith?”
She didn’t answer right away. After a moment she let out a breath, looking around.
“I knew it,” she breathed, and tears started to slip down her cheeks. “I knew it, I knew it. I don’t have to listen, I don’t have to do anything--I’m not bound to him.”
And she began to sob, her shoulders shaking, holding a hand over her mouth. Mel knelt there, bewildered, until she was on her feet, shouting.
“Do you hear me? I say no!” she cried, stamping her foot. “You can’t make me do anything anymore! I’m free, free!”
“Lilith!” Mel hissed, standing up and turning her so she was looking at him. “Be quiet.”
She looked into his eyes, still sobbing. “But I don’t have to,” she moaned. “I don’t have to live with Adam, I don’t have to be quiet...I don’t have to be obedient...I can be...anything…”
And she buried her head in his chest, crying. Whether she was crying out of relief or despair, Mel wasn’t sure, but he held her and whispered to her.
After some time her crying subsided, and she pulled away, brushing at her eyes.
“How do you feel?” he asked, studying her.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Better. Tired.”
“All right,” he said cautiously. “Let’s try to sleep.”
She nodded, and then looked down at herself. “I’m naked.”
He frowned. “You’ve been naked this whole time.”
“I know, but--it feels strange now.” She looked up at him. “Is it wrong?”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Not exactly. Here.”
He took off his coat--he was wearing a shirt and pants underneath. She slipped it on, and he helped her tie it. It suited her, despite being a little big.