Black-Winged Tuesday

by Alicia Ryan

They passed through a black curtain covering the space under a red marble arch. Beyond the curtain was another world. Music thumped and blared; angels, demons, and things Herman couldn’t identify danced, languished on pillows and couches, and stood around the marble bar, shouting demands at a bright yellow, reptilian bartender in a red vest, who seemed not to be touching the ground at all, but rather flying from the counter to the tap to the stack of liquor bottles in a frenzy of either very good or very terrible customer service. Herman couldn’t quite tell which.

  Black, translucent figures, seemingly only shadows, flitted around the walls. The light they whirled through came from clear cylinders - about ten feet apart and each about a foot wide - that stretched the height of the room. Flames rose in each one, blue, orange, white - like the biggest oil lamps he’d ever seen. They cast shadows everywhere, making it hard to tell what was real. Herman looked up to the ceiling and realized it was painted with saints, virgins, and cherubs.

  Price caught the direction of his gaze and pointed skyward. “Ariel’s idea of a joke, I assume. Want a drink?”

  “Sure. Uh…Jack and Coke?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “This is hell. We can do better than Jack and Coke. Stay here. I’ll get us both something with some kick. Elbows get a little sharp around the bar.”

  Price waded into the crowd, and Herman’s eyes bulged as a dark haired woman with tiny horns, three breasts and a black leather corset walked by. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, but turned back after a few steps to give him a slow once-over.

  She put a hand on his arm. “Hi there. I was just saying it’s high time we brought some new blood to the party.” She flicked her index finger, her long black nail becoming a leather whip that popped in the air three feet away from his arm. “Wanna play?”

  “Sorry,” Herman said, shaking his head. “I’m…uh…here with someone.”

  “Here’s your drink, man.” Price appeared over the woman’s shoulder and passed Herman a glass filled with neon orange liquid.

  Whip-girl looked back and forth between them. “Very pretty. You two should get a room,” she said, nodding toward another black curtain off to one side and set slightly back from the bar. “I’d pay to watch.”

  “Sorry, Angie,” Price said, “Tuesday’s not that kind of guy, and since he’s got a corporate credit card, we don’t really need whatever you’re thinking of paying with.”

  Angie leaned over and whispered in Price’s ear. Herman watched Price’s eyes widen and light up. He could almost see the wheels turning in his partner’s head.

  “Sorry,” Price responded, finally. “Tempting as that sounds, my friend here is a no go.” He looked ever more appreciatively at Angie. “Maybe on the next one?”

  “Only if he’s as delicious as this one.”

  Angie sauntered off, the flickering light from the walls shimmering off her black curls and the black reptilian scales that covered her haunches and her tail. Tiny flames ignited every time one of her high heels clicked against the floor.

  “Whoa,” Herman commented.

  Price sighed, and Herman thought it wise to change the subject. “Dare I ask what’s in this?” he said, raising his glass to eye level.

  “Definitely not. Just take a sip. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

  “Does that line work on all your dates?”

  “Hey,” Price reminded him, taking a sip of his own orange libation, “if you want to be my date, Angie there promises us a night with her - and her three sisters.”

  Herman gaped, then, unable to think of anything else to do, he sipped his drink, choked, and felt the muscles in his shoulders relax. He took another sip, this time expecting the burn. It burned for quite a while, but the intoxicating effects – no, make that euphoric effects – were almost immediate.”

  “Yeah,” Price said, nodding. “Tastes like Drain-O going down, but makes you feel like fucking Superman, am I right?”

  Herman grinned. “Whatever it is, I like it.”

  Price coughed. “Just remember you said that, okay? If you ever do find out what it is, I mean.”

  Herman laughed, past caring. “So what’s behind the curtain in the back?”

  “Ah. Well, the bartender gave me a message that I’m to take you to room eight. Ariel wants to see you.”

  “She does?”

  Price nodded. “Yep, though I’m damned if I can figure out what the attraction is. Come on.” He turned back, looking at Herman’s still full glass. “Wait. I think I’d down that if I were you.”

  “Why?” Herman felt his brow furrowing, though it seemed slightly detached from his face. He looked at the hand holding his glass. Clearly his, and just the right distance away. Good.

  “Cause if Ariel had asked to see me in a private room, I’d want to be all the man I could be, if you take my meaning.”

  “Not really.” Herman tossed back the contents of the glass. “But for once I’ll take your word for it.”

  Before they reached the curtain, it parted, and four of the most beautiful people Herman had ever seen came out, two men and two women, each dispersing quickly into the crowd. The last one Herman thought looked vaguely familiar.

  Price sighed as he watched them go by. “Those are Ariel’s girls from the townhouse,” he explained.

  “What about the men?”

  “Huh? Oh, well, half of them take male form for the parties. Ariel is an equal opportunity crowd pleaser.”

  “So they just…come out to have sex with the guests?”

  Price nodded. “Not exactly for free, though. Ariel gets paid in favors.”

  “Not party favors, I take it.”

  A crooked smile from Price. “No, more the ‘demon at your disposal’ sort of favor.”

  “Why would she want that?”

  Price shrugged. “Why not? It’s probably how she got Jensen to take bouncer duty.” He looked after where the shimmering blond Herman now recognized as April had disappeared. “Listen, T, go on in there, okay? I’m sure you can find room eight by yourself. You’re a big angel now, right?” He clapped Herman on the shoulder. “Go make me proud. I’m going to go rack up some debts.”

  Herman almost reached out to stop him, but realized Tuesday would never do such a thing. He turned instead to grab the curtain and ducked beneath its soft fabric.

  Snakes greeted him, and he gasped for the air that had shunted out of his lungs. White snakes, as big around as his thigh – and lots of them. He’d stepped onto a flat white rock, the first in a series of identical stepping stones that led down a long white marble hall, only it wasn’t really a hall, it was a river about six feet wide and lined on one side with doors that seemed to be carved from solid pieces of jade. Gold leaf was brushed over carved designs – dragons, flowers, snakes.

  But the real snakes drew more of his attention. Huge, writhing beasts - they curled and undulated in the dark water surrounding the stones. Only three feet separated the stones from any given door, but three feet of water - and who knew how deep - oozing with snakes was enough to give any man pause. Even Tuesday, Herman thought, not moving from the relative safety of his perch.

  Tremulously, he leapt to the next rock – just a little too far away to be a comfortable step. Two more, and he was at the first jade door. He said a prayer of thanks that there was a gold “1” above it and not, say, “299”.

  One snake lifted its head to the surface and watched him as he leapt between rooms four and five, but otherwise, they seemed oblivious to his presence, and Herman reached room eight with his nerves relatively under control. Putting his hand out, and noting with some pride it wasn’t shaking, he turned the smooth jade doorknob.

  Three clicks echoed down the empty hall as a carved dragon retracted its tail from the door frame, a flower its thorny stem, and a snake its fanged head – beautiful dead bolts opening so he could enter.

  He pushed lightly on the door, and it swung all the way open. More snakes. This time they swam in
a small, dark stream that ran left to right across the room and disappeared under the far walls. Unlike the ones outside, these reptiles were small and dark, but gleamed in a rainbow of jeweled, effervescent colors. He watched for a long moment, making sure they seemed contained in their watery track.

  Otherwise the room was completely white, but bathed in a soft blue glow from the flame cylinders along its bare walls. Except for the stream of snakes, the room was also completely devoid of furnishings – just four white stone walls.

  As he watched, a door in the back wall slid open, and Ariel stepped forward. It slid shut behind her, but Herman barely noticed.

  She gleamed with the same blue light as the rest of the room, her flame blue eyes, her blue-black hair, her perfect white body completely bare and on display before him. Her nipples were flame blue, but they constricted and darkened to a color more like navy as his eyes roved over her.

  “Tuesday, come here.”

  Herman didn’t move until Ariel crooked a finger at him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Still getting used to the new name.”

  “You shouldn’t have any trouble,” she said, watching him cross the stepping stones and close the empty space between them. “It suits you.”

  She put a surprisingly warm hand to the side of his face. “Your eyes are unchanged. I rather expected that – their duality suits you as well.”

  She looked at his lips, and Herman felt the heat from her body start to envelope him, every bit as intoxicating as the drink he’d consumed earlier.

  “I’m not-“

  She put a finger to his lips. “Yes, you are. The old Herman died days ago. As Tuesday, you’ve kept what was best in him and finally shed the old skin.” She removed her finger, and he missed its warm pressure immediately.

  “I should tell you who I am,” she said. It’s really not fair any other way.”

  He sucked in his breath as great, night-blue wings unfurled behind her – not soft, feathered wings like Price had, but strong, leathery, pointed wings, like those of a bat.

  “What the-“

  “I’m one of the Fallen,” she said. “I was never human. I sided with Lucifer when he protested the creation of humanity, though his reasons were not my reasons. Like him, I was cast out of the Father’s presence. All except the archangels lost their wings entirely, and ours were changed – made opposite of the Father’s original design.”

  Herman tried to process what he was hearing, and the reality of hell sunk in for him in a way it hadn’t ever before – not even when he was sitting in the pews as a boy listening to the Reverend Castor.

  “Why are you telling me this? Why are you even talking to me?”

  “I’m telling you because both the Father and Lucifer still bear me quite a grudge for giving Eve that little apple.”

  He felt his eyes widen. “That was you?”

  She nodded. “Lucifer wanted to destroy humanity. He was angry that the Father created them and then loved them more than us, more even than his archangels.

  “I just thought they shouldn’t be slaves. It wasn’t right to create a race simply to adore him. The angels all have free will. I merely gave it to the humans.”

  “Merely?“

  She laughed. “You’re right, of course. I was imprisoned below for quite some time after that. Lucifer was furious.

  “Both he and the Father seem to have come around to the idea, though. I think Lucifer likes his guerilla war, and the Father appreciates those humans who come to him despite being tempted to do otherwise.” She shrugged. “I don’t know that for certain, of course, but one day my cage opened, and all the privileges of my station here had been restored, including my ability to manifest on earth.”

  “But if you’ve been forgiven, why does all this matter? Why do you need to tell me - of all people?”

  She smiled and turned around, sheathing her wings and lifting the curtain of her hair. A dark blue tattoo of a snake crept up her spine, ending with its open mouth around the back of her neck as if just about to strike.

  “All the Fallen are marked in some way,” she said, “though I was the first. We’re marked in our true form, so we can never appear before Lucifer as anything else. If you choose to associate with me, you may be marked as well. Lucifer still takes quite an interest in my activities, and those of my friends. He doesn’t trust me, and the mark gives him a connection so he can always, more or less, know what I’m up to.”

  She turned once again to face him.

  “So if I stay here with you…” He looked questioningly at her, wanting to make sure he was correctly interpreting the invitation.

  “If you stay here with me, you will become my lover. And you might be put on the black list of both God and Satan.”

  “Why me?” he whispered, this time asking a different question.

  She sighed and moved closer to him. “Because you’re beautiful inside, and you have strength you barely realize. Because I am an archangel, cast out of heaven and not trusted by those in hell. Because I’ve never seen a potential equal in a human angel before.” Her hands moved to rest on his chest. “You’ve quite entranced me.”

  She looked up at him with hunger and longing. “Will you stay?”

  He looked away from her, up at the blank ceiling. Stay with a woman who had the arrogance to remake God’s creation as she thought it should be? Stay with a fallen angel with the courage to defy both God and Lucifer? Stay with a creature who burned with blue flame?

  He let out the breath he’d been holding, and lowered his head to meet her gaze. “Where have you been all my life?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s only your afterlife I’m interested in.” She kissed his right cheek and murmured “Herman.” Kissing his left cheek, she said “Tuesday.” She repeated the process until she reached his mouth, declaring “Tuesday” the way a young girl might say “he loves me!” upon reaching the last petal of a daisy.

  And it was Tuesday who kissed her, pulling her to him and plundering her mouth, the desire to know her more potent than anything he’d ever felt.

  She sucked in air when he raised his head. “I know what Lydia has been teaching Herman,” she said, “but for this moment, forget every bit of it – no anticipation, no slow exploration, no asking. I want you, Tuesday - right now.”

  Her eyes dazzled him, freezing him in place.

  “You’re a supernatural being, Tuesday. As am I. You can make me yours. I won’t break.”

  Make her his. He groaned at her words and began kissing her again almost before she’d finished speaking. He pushed her hard up against the wall, dissolving the clothes that kept him from her.

  Their coming together wasn’t quick, nor was it slow. It was hard and desperate and furious. He’d never known anything like it, and by the end he felt he didn’t know anything at all except that they were both screaming.

  When he could perceive a reality outside her body, he realized he had one hand propped against the white wall and the other under her ass. Both her legs were wrapped around his hips, and he was still deep inside a fallen angel who’d for some reason chosen him as a lover. He gasped for breath and looked at her.

  She was smiling. Joy on the face of an archangel – joy he’d put there – turned him inside out and back again. Then he, too, was smiling, and nothing in heaven or hell could have made him do otherwise.

  Very slowly, he pulled out of her. She closed her eyes against the sensation, still smiling, and put her feet to the floor.

  Still propped against the wall, he raised his left hand to smooth it up the top of her thigh and over the delicate curve of her hip.

  “Hey!” he said, looking down.

  A small snake tattoo had appeared around his left wrist. It was dark blue and had two heads that almost, but not quite, met on the top of his wrist.

  “I did warn you,” she pointed out gently.

  “I…um…I know. It’s just…well, that was quick.”

  “Lucifer doesn’t miss mu
ch where I’m concerned.” She looked him up and down. “This does rather prove my point, though.”

  He shook his head, still feeling dazed. “Sorry – what point?”

  “That you’re Tuesday. The mark only shows on your true form.”

  He let that sink in.

  “You can still manifest as the old Herman, but that’s no longer who you are. The mark won’t show in any other guise but this one. On the plus side…” She opened her hands in a shrug. “Well, you may not think it’s a plus, but that mark gives you access to all the levels of hell. I am an archangel, after all.”

  “So am I like a pet – some kind of love slave?”

  She laughed, running a finger down his chest, reigniting the flame inside him. “Now that’s tempting, but no. It just means you’ve chosen to associate with me, at least for the time being. You can always change your mind – though how long it would take Lucifer to trust your decision is anyone’s guess. He’s a suspicious bastard where I’m concerned. It also means you have my protection – if you were ever to need it. That Lucifer fears me means others do as well – almost everyone in fact.”

  “Then I’ll wear it with honor, Ariel.” He grinned and nodded at the hidden door behind her. “Now have you got a bed stashed anywhere back there? Not that I’m opposed to the wall. I’m feeling very fond of it at the moment actually.”

  The door slid open, and Tuesday followed his blue angel into a tropical paradise with a huge bed at its center. Red and yellow flowers grew out of the walls and the ceiling, and fallen petals covered the floor. The bed frame consisted of sturdy, intertwined vines, topped by a mattress covered with a white blanket dotted with what looked like sapphires and diamonds.

  “Wow.”

  “I rather did like Eden,” she admitted, looking at him over her shoulder. Then she turned, taking both his hands in hers. “But modern mattresses have completely won me over.” She nodded toward the bed. “Come on, let me show you how supernatural you can be.”

  He resisted, needing to ask a question, but fearing the answer. “How many others have your mark?”

  “Just the four girls who’ve joined in my little project – the townhouse you visited. They’re all human angels; they’re the only ones I’ve bothered to take any interest in.”