The Two Devils

by David B. Riley

  She gave me another squeeze. “I sure hope we don't have to kill him. Nick must think we will."

  "Where do we look?” I asked.

  "The wharf area. I hope he's not upstairs with a saloon girl."

  "Why's that?” I asked, without thinking.

  "Angles, copulating with mortals, it makes me sick just thinking about it.” After a few seconds went by, she added, “Oh no, Miles. Well, I still feel that way. I guess Janus would've seduced you by now."

  "She does that often?"

  "No. Only when she gets out,” Buffy said.

  "I did it with Mabel, too.” I wasn't bragging. I just figured she should know.

  She squeezed me again. “It's pretty hard to resist something as pretty as Janus, I suppose.” That was an understatement.

  I pulled back on Paul's reins. “He's here."

  "What?” Buffy asked, seeming startled. “You're sure?” She looked around. “How do you know?"

  "He's sitting on the porch reading the newspaper.” I pointed at the boarding house across the street. It was too expensive, or I'd be living there. Ralph was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch perusing a copy of the Sacramento Sun. Out of town papers often made their way up and down the river.

  "Oh.” Buffy slid down.

  I followed her.

  "Ain't going back,” the angel Ralph declared. He looked at Buffy. “It's been a long time."

  "I don't have much reason to go to hell, Ralph,” Buffy replied. She looked over at me. “This is Miles."

  "I know who he is,” Ralph said. “Nick's little errand boy."

  "Nick's little errand boy was sent here to kill you,” Buffy pointed out. “You can't just live here. It's not right."

  "I work on a barge. Who am I hurting?” Ralph asked. “I keep a real plain and simple life."

  "Mortals. This is their world, not yours,” Buffy said. “It's just not allowed. And you know it."

  Ralph neatly folded up his newspaper and placed it on the spotless wooden floor. Then he stood up. “I ain't going back, Buffy. Hell, it didn't turn out like we'd hoped. Nick, he's just another egomaniac trying to outdo God."

  "You can either go back to hell, or you can come up to heaven and plead your case with God. That's it. You have no other choices,” Buffy said.

  "Odd, Nick and God being on the same side,” Ralph said.

  "Odd or not, which is it going to be?” she asked.

  "Neither.” And he was off. Boy could he run fast.

  He was at least a hundred yards down the road before I could get back in the saddle. I was confident no matter how fast this renegade angel could trot along, Paul could go faster. We soon were bearing down on him.

  Then, he jumped right into the Sacramento River and started swimming. In spite of my commands and pleas, Paul showed no willingness to go into the water to chase after him.

  I ran along on foot for a ways, then jumped into a boat. I was able to row fast enough to keep him from gaining on me, yet I could not generate enough speed to overtake him. I did not really know how long this would go on, as I was not chasing any ordinary man. So, for the better part of an hour, I rowed and he swam. Then, all of a sudden, I heard a yelp out of him, and he disappeared below the waves in a flurry of bubbles. By the time I arrived upon the last location, all was quiet, and there was no sign of him anyplace. I sat there in the river for a few minutes, then I realized this point was quite familiar to me. It was where Ellul had camped out.

  Sure enough, a bunch of foamy bubbles soon appeared near the bank and Ellul and Ralph emerged from the water. Ellul had him by his privates. I was assuming males had privates, the females certainly did. And he threw the angel down on the bank hard. I rowed over and beached the boat. Buffy soon arrived at the scene on Paul.

  "What do we do with him now?” I asked.

  "I ain't going back,” Ralph insisted.

  "Give me the gun,” Ellul demanded.

  "Don't do it, Miles,” Buffy warned. “Remember what I said."

  The angel Ralph looked at me. “Well, you gonna shoot me or what?"

  "You willing to go back to hell?” I asked him.

  He folded his arms defiantly. “No."

  I drew the revolver out of the holster. “Then I guess I'll have to."

  "Miles, don't,” Buffy warned.

  "He won't go back to hell.” I cocked the hammer back. “Sorry pal."

  Then there was a flurry of air all around us, and everything bristled with static electricity.

  In a flash, both Buffy and Ralph were gone. I holstered the weapon. “Heck, I tossed them bullets into the river long time ago, Ellul. I couldn't of hurt him none if I'd wanted to."

  "What happened to him?” Ellul asked. He usually knew more than I did.

  "I think Buffy took him back to heaven.” I'd sensed all along Buffy wanted to bring him back to heaven even though Ralph wasn't particularly welcome there. Maybe she had a thing for him once!

  "Mister won't like it,” Ellul said.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Tell him to take it up with God. Ain't nothing we can do about it."

  Ellul climbed up on his horse. “I go scare some children, then go back to hell."

  "Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.

  He tossed me a book—a hardcover book that looked brand new. Such things are a rarity out west. “Janus said to give this to you if you were still alive."

  I thumbed through it. The title was Two Little Farm Wives. While the title seemed innocent enough, the author was some French guy. And some other French guy translated it to English. “Well, we'll see you, Ellul."

  He shook his head. “Angels. Humans."

  I looked at the titanium bullets. I'd lied to Ellul. I still had them. I should have thrown them into the river. I did not. I put them in my saddlebags, instead. No other decision would have such a profound impact in my life over the next year as that one.

  I started back for town. I had hair to cut in the morning. There was supposed to be a bunch of soldiers coming through. They never let me cut hair for the locals, just people passing through. I figured I'd be busy, for once.

  Mrs. Bunyan served up a lamb stew. I ate a hearty portion, then I retired to my room. The French novel, it turned out, was something a naive farm boy from Kansas maybe shouldn't read. I found myself blushing by the third page—and I was alone. I read the first chapter, then drifted off to sleep.

  The next day was uneventful. I cut hair on ten heads and did four shaves, only drawing blood once. The boss was right pleased with me that day. Then, I got home and relaxed on the swing on Mrs. Bunyan's front porch. Mrs. Bunyan kept peering at me through the window. Finally, she came outside.

  "Mr. O'Malley.” She stared at me for a moment. “Mr. O'Malley, I was cleaning your room today.” She held out Two Little Farm Wives. “I had no idea you read such filth."

  I shrugged. “I'll pack my things."

  "No, it's not that.” She stared at me again. “Could I borrow it?"

  "Sure.” That evening, I got a really huge piece of apricot cobbler. Then, I went to bed.

  Aside from me, there were three other boarders—all elderly. Charlotte and Ethel Browning had both murdered their husbands, who were both cousins, by nagging them to death—according to the third lodger, Charles Fanning, a retired sea captain who'd given up in 1850, after he couldn't hire a crew for a return voyage to Boston. Back then, all the inbound sailors took off and went looking for gold.

  Having gorged myself on food that evening, I found an urgent requirement to visit the backyard privy at around one in the morning. I passed Charlotte Browning, asleep on the parlor sofa, with an empty bottle of sherry on the floor. About the time I arrived at the privy, my brain recollected it was my book resting on her lap.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 5

  THE ANGEL OF DEATH

  Once I completed my business, I quietly returned inside. Now, in addition to Charlotte, I sensed another presence. I was chilled right down
to the bone when I saw what lurked in the parlor. If I hadn't just gotten rid of it, I'd have had poop where it shouldn't be.

  There was this tall fellow in a black hooded robe. He was holding a sickle. It was obviously the Grim Reaper himself. I must say, that's about the last thing one expects to see.

  And all I could think about was how glad I was I'd gotten dressed in my dungarees instead of moseying around in a nightshirt.

  He pointed at me. “Are you Miles O'Malley?"

  My throat went as dry as a pile of Death Valley borax. “Yes, sir,” I meekly answered. I then realized he was holding my book.

  "The French version is better. French, it's not an easy language to translate. I think page fifty-three is impossible, in any language."

  "I haven't gotten that far,” I replied. “I only read the first chapter."

  He set the book back on Charlotte's lap. “I've come for you, Miles O'Malley."

  "Wait. I can't be dead. I'm too young."

  He pulled back the hood and sat next to Charlotte at the end of the sofa. He looked like anyone, though he had very pale features. “Nobody ever wants to see me. It's always, ‘oh no,’ or ‘I can't be dead.’ Even the ones in agony don't want to see me. Fellow was stuck in a mine cave in, legs broken, just yesterday. Was he glad to see me? The only one who could relieve his suffering? Was he glad to see me? I'll say he wasn't."

  This Death guy stood up. He sure was tall. “Well, let's be off, Miles."

  "How'd you know it was my book?” I asked.

  "Your name's in it, inside cover,” he answered.

  "How did I die?” I asked.

  He swatted me on the side of the head. “You're not dead. Did I say you were dead? Come on. God wants to see you."

  "God?"

  "Yeah. Let's not keep Him waiting,” Death said.

  I shrugged. “Let's not."

  He grabbed me by the hand. Nick was not the only supernatural entity with cold, clammy hands. “You'll like this."

  I, a simpleton-turned-miner-turned-barber, had been quite puzzled with Nick's interest in me. Then, along came some demons and a trip to hell—the real hell; not to mention meeting four different angels, two of which I got to know intimately. Now, the harbinger of death shows up in my house and tells me God wants to see me. This may seem odd, but I wasn't all that surprised by it. Things were getting mighty strange in my life. But, somehow, it just did not seem that strange at the time.

  I don't know how or why, but we were flying with little sensation of movement. We entered a swirling tunnel of light. We whizzed along for a bit and finally emerged in what looked like a field of clouds. As we got closer, I realized we were approaching a massive, sparkling city. Death deposited me in front of an enormous golden gate. Then, I was alone.

  Then I wasn't. An older fellow dressed in white robes was looking me over.

  "What have we here? You strike me as being more the type of person we send off to hell,” he advised me. “Not heaven material at all.” He shook his head.

  I sighed. I hadn't allowed the demons to intimidate me. I sure wasn't going to allow this guy to. “My good fellow, whomever you are, I have an appointment to see God. Please tell Him I have arrived."

  He shook his head. “I think that is most unlikely. We haven't had anyone so ordinary as you since—” he thumbed through a book that seemed to be hovering in front of him somehow, “Uh, are you Miles O'Malley?"

  "I am."

  "Oh, well, welcome to heaven.” He clapped loudly and the gates opened. “Well, go on in."

  "How do I get...” A golden chariot pulled by two magnificent horses came to a halt in front of me.

  "Hop in,” the robed fellow advised. “They'll take you where you need to go."

  I did as instructed. The horses took off down a grand boulevard. Just like in hell, there were folks around. They gave me a few glances, but weren't overly interested in me. Everyone I saw wore white robes, though some of the styles did vary. The city was clean and sparkling. And, no, the streets weren't paved with gold. I don't know what they were paved with, but it wasn't gold. They were gray. I guess the marble buildings offered enough glare.

  We passed a few immaculate gardens and stopped in front of an immense palace. Since we'd stopped, and the horses didn't talk, I decided that was my stop and sauntered up the steps and inside the first entrance to the building that I could find.

  "Where do you think you're going?” a high-pitched voice greeted me.

  Something big and wearing a blue robe came running towards me. I later learned it was a cherub. Picture a seven-foot tall baby and that's a close approximation to their appearance, but they're not babies.

  "Where do you think you're going?” it repeated. I'm still not sure about gender with cherubs.

  "I'm here to see God,” I explained.

  "But is God here to see you?” it asked.

  I shrugged. “They said He wants to see me, but what do I know?"

  I turned and started to leave.

  "Are you Miles O'Malley?” it suddenly asked.

  "Yep, that's me."

  "Well, why didn't you say so?” It pointed down a long marble lined corridor. “Go right down there, until you reach the large double doors."

  "Uh, okay.” I sauntered down the very long hall, perhaps one hundred yards, until I arrived at the doors. They opened without need of knocking or pushing on them. Inside was a large meeting hall. At the far end sat seven cherubs on a bench. Another set of double doors was next to them.

  As I entered, the cherub closest to the doors stood and manually opened the other doors.

  "Mr. Miles O'Malley,” it announced.

  I found Buffy sitting behind an enormous mahogany desk. Her office was quite large, with a large window providing an incredible view of heaven.

  Another door, a simple standard wooden one, was at the far corner of the room. She smiled. She looked gorgeous in her white robe, which was exquisitely tailored. Her blonde hair seemed curlier than I remembered.

  "Miles, nice to see you again.” She stood and came around to the front of the desk and gave me a hug. “Hope you had a nice trip up."

  "I'll say."

  "Well, God wants to see you.” She went over and opened the little door, then led me inside a room filled with various plants. It sort of looked like a greenhouse, but with regular floors and windows. “It's customary to kneel. Just answer His questions and you'll do fine.” She gently touched my left shoulder and left me alone.

  After a minute or so, God appeared before me. If you haven't seen God, it's impossible for me to describe Him in any fashion that makes much sense or adequately answers one's questions. He's not the old bearded guy some religions portray him as.

  He's there. He's more than a light, a lot more—He's an overwhelming presence. Yet, He really didn't take physical form, either. There He was, God, right there in the room with me.

  "Miles, it is good to see you,” God said.

  "The pleasure's all mine, Sir,” I replied.

  "Few mortals are brought here. It tends to completely destroy their lives. Most go crazy,” He explained. “You have visited hell itself and shown no obvious effects from the encounter. I find that most impressive."

  "Well, folks say my horse is smarter than I am,” I replied.

  He laughed. It was a real loud, deep roar. “Though Paul is a magnificent horse, I think you may be selling yourself a little short."

  "Uh ... thanks, Sir."

  "First off, the matter of your titanium bullets. You said you destroyed them,” God said. “Is that true?"

  "No sir. Six are in my back pocket. The rest are in my bureau drawer at home,” I explained.

  "Why did you lie about them?"

  "I didn't want them falling into the wrong hands, especially that bunch in hell, not if they really can kill an angel,” I explained. “Frankly, I don't know what to do with them."

  "Can you keep a secret?” God asked. “Something the angels don't even know?"

>   "I'll try, Sir,” I promised.

  "Titanium is just a really hard metal. It won't kill an angel. It's just a myth—a myth I allow—to give the angels something to worry about. They tend to get a bit complacent and smug."

  "Really? Wow.” I was amazed at how inarticulate I'd become. “Does Nick know this?"

  "Certainly,” God said.

  "He sent me after Ralph with useless bullets?"

  "He is not one I would be too trusting of, Miles,” God explained.

  "However, Ralph certainly believed the threat to be real."

  "He sure did."

  "May I have them?” God asked.

  I held them out on my palm. In a whisk of light, they vanished.

  "When you return, give the remainder of the bullets to Death."

  "Yes, God."

  The next question was one I would've rather avoided. “Do you like Nick?"

  Lying to God seemed rather pointless. “Yes, God. I don't know why, but I do kind of like him."

  "Is that why you help him out?"

  "No. I can't rightly say why I've been helping him. I guess I'll help pert near anybody. I sure didn't want any part of that angel stuff, or that helmet. Can't say I wanted any part of anything. But, he keeps talking me into things."

  "Do you know why?” God asked.

  "Why he wants me to help him?"

  "Yes."

  "No, can't say as I do."

  "You are something he does not have in abundance. Thank you for coming, Miles."

  "Do you not want me to help him in the future? I'm not sure I understand.” And that was an understatement.

  "You need to continue to make your own decisions in life, Miles,” God replied. Then, He was gone.

  The door opened and Buffy entered. I stood up, though I felt a little wobbly. “What'd He mean? What doesn't Nick have in abundance?"

  Buffy smiled. “Miles, you are an honest man. Nick mostly has swindlers, thieves, murderers, and lots and lots of lawyers to call on."

  I hadn't thought of that.

  She took me by the arm and walked me out into the great big hall. “I'd love to show you around, but I think you've had enough excitement for one day.” I was speechless.

  Somehow, I found the chariot right where I'd left it. The horses took me back to the front gate. The guy in the robe was still there.