Black-Winged Tuesday

by Alicia Ryan

  She eyed him suspiciously.

  “Promise?”

  “Okay,” she said hesitantly, “I promise. What is it?”

  “Well, there’s been a little bit of an uptick in the construction business lately. We have three or four jobs lined up now, where you know it’s been hand-to-mouth for so long.”

  “I know.” She reached up to put a hand on his denim-shirted shoulder. “That’s great, Gerry. Why wouldn’t I be pleased?”

  “Well, I’m just thinking that if Joe weren’t in the picture, the company would belong to me in total. He’s got no family, so he put me in to inherit all his shares. We could be making twice as much. That would be enough to make the house payments and start getting some decent things for Emily – maybe even start saving for her college.”

  Jez’s mouth had dropped open. “What do you mean by ‘not in the picture’?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She started shaking her head in earnest. “No, Gerald. How could you even think such a thing? Are you? Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

  “He’s not a nice man, Jez. You know that as well as I do. Nobody likes him; nobody will give a damn if he’s dead. Like I said, he’s got no family. How much harm would it really do?”

  “Are you kidding me? Murder?”

  “Lower your voice, goddamit.”

  “Murder, Gerald. Please tell me you’re kidding. Please.”

  He shook his head. “You promised you’d think about it.”

  “You bet your life I’m going to think about it. I’m going to be horrified until you agree to put this craziness out of your head.”

  “You know he has a thing for you.”

  “What? What does that have to do with anything? I absolutely will not participate in this. And neither will you. No, no, no!”

  “You could start flirting with him behind my back – like you do those men at the club – get him to meet you after work. I’d make it quick. He wouldn’t suffer, Jez. And nobody would put him together with us. He wouldn’t be at the club. They’d just assume some hooker did him in.”

  Jez visibly shivered despite the warm night. “I am some hooker, Gerald.”

  He looked up at her and frowned. “You promised you’d think about it.”

  “I’m going to bed. You should get breakfast out. I don’t even want to look at you right now. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I don’t like it one bit. Maybe we should think about leaving this place.”

  “And going where? Everything I have is tied up in the business, and there’s no better place for you to…do what you do.”

  “Go to work, Gerald. I’m not discussing this anymore.”

  He stood. “I’m going. Remember your promise, Jez.”

  “I’m going to have nightmares. Does that count?”

  Gerald went inside, but Jez stayed on the stoop until they heard the garage door open and a car engine start. When she went inside, Price motioned for them to leave.

  They made the short trek to the car in silence. Only when both doors were shut did either of them speak.

  “I guess this is worse than we thought,” Tuesday said, summing up the scene they’d witnessed.

  “Yeah, now it’s not one wayward stripper, but Lord and Lady Macbeth.”

  Tuesday turned to him.

  “Don’t even make a joke about me knowing Shakespeare,” Price ordered. “Now is so not the time.”

  They drove back to the Venetian, showered and got into their respective beds, each being sure to draw the heavy curtains between them. Tuesday was glad for the way the mattress curled up around him. It was comforting in a nice, earthly, physical way.

  “You know, she did seem firmly against it,” he said. “That’s something.”

  “It’s something,” Price agreed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tricia’s first waitressing shift started the following night at nine. Tuesday dutifully accompanied her, and took in the first two feature performers – a feather-fan dancer and a very exotic looking woman whose colorful costume pulled away to reveal a bronzed body covered in tiny jewels and gold coins. He became fascinated watching her sway in the red spotlight.

  “Getting your fill?” Tricia asked, coming up behind him.

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. Those things are hypnotizing.”

  “Hypnotizing. Right.” She leaned in, whispering. “You’re supposed to be with me, remember.”

  Tuesday smiled. “I remember. You’re still the best looking girl here.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “Aww.”

  “No, I’m serious. I don’t know how Price ever got a girl like you.”

  Price laughed, quickly clamping a hand over Tricia’s mouth. “No more jokes, asshole. You’re not helping me stay in character.” He nodded toward the door behind the stage. “I came over here with actual news. Jez just arrived. She’s in the dressing room, but she’s looking awfully thoughtful.”

  Tuesday frowned. “And you’re thinking that for our purposes this is a bad thing?”

  “Yep. Get back there, will you, and keep an eye on her until she comes out. I want to know how she seems, so I can figure out what to say later.”

  “Okay, I will go loiter in the dancers’ dressing room if you insist, and it is absolutely critical to the soul saving.”

  “I love you, honey, but you are soooo not funny,” Price said, reverting back to Tricia’s lilting soprano.

  “Thanks, honeysuckle.” Tuesday stood up and planted a soft kiss on Tricia’s cheek.

  “Don’t get attached to that little nickname,” she retorted, shaking her head. “I have to get back to my tables.”

  Tuesday patted her ass when she turned away and was rewarded with a truly evil glare. It looked so out of place on that face, he almost burst out laughing. Instead he turned and headed for the men’s room, going into a stall before dematerializing. He walked out through the bathroom wall and wondered for a moment if he could walk through people as well. He figured he could, but, for some reason, the idea gave him the creeps – made it seem too much like he was dead.

  Backstage, five girls were sitting at a table in front of a long, lighted mirror, each in various stages of undress. Tuesday assumed three girls were pole dancing on the second floor, plus the jeweled beauty out front – making for nine in total.

  Jezebel’s spot was nearest the door and a little behind it. She was in the darkest part of the room, somewhat separated from the others. Under the guise of applying makeup, Tuesday could tell she was seeing more than her reflection. Her eyes had a sad, faraway look that he fervently hoped hadn’t lapsed into resignation.

  He moved closer to get a better look, and only then noticed the darkness around her change shape. It moved to impede his view, and a bolt of fear lit up his insides. He saw the shadow now for what it truly was – another dark angel. Tuesday couldn’t move. Wasn’t Price supposed to be the Bad angel on this one? He tried to remember if the packet had mentioned another dark angel, but he was sure would have remembered that.

  The shadow took on a defined shape, showing Tuesday black, folded wings. It turned, and the stern face of a hard, middle-aged man appeared. He had shorn black hair and hands bigger than his body justified. Black shadows clung to his form.

  Without saying a word, he motioned for Tuesday to follow him upward. Exhaling deeply, Tuesday flew straight up to the roof. Tar paper spread dark under his feet, but the sky above was almost as bright as day, the glow from marquee lights on the strip blocking out both the dark of the sky and the light of the stars.

  “Who are you?” he asked, watching the other angel closely.

  “Judas.”

  “The Judas?”

  “The very same.”

  Tuesday examined his dark wings and closed face. “Was that story wrong, too?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Did you not repent at the end, before you killed yourself? Why are you a dark angel?”

  “I had nothing to repent,” he said
. “I did as he bade me, and my reward was to be vilified and made into an object lesson for the ages. And do I look like the suicide type? I didn’t tie a rope around my own neck and swing myself out over a cliff. The others wouldn’t believe me, and the man I had loved above all others did nothing to exonerate me. He let me die for his cause, without asking if I minded.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “No, you don’t see. I’m here on Lucifer’s behalf. I’m here to cause destruction among the children HE supposedly cares for so much.” A grimace twisted his face. “Lucifer is right, you know. Humans exist at God’s whim, and his love is not pure, even-handed or constant. I know that better than anyone.”

  “But why do you hate humans? Because someone killed you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that humans don’t deserve to live, Tuesday. It’s that God doesn’t deserve to have them.”

  “Are you here to persuade me? If so, you’re wasting your time.”

  Judas shook his head. “Not really. I’m here to set Jezebel on the path to hell.” He shrugged. “Gerald, we’re already pretty sure of, but Jezebel is on the fence, and getting her may give us a handle on her daughter, too, in time.”

  “Her daughter is only four.”

  “I did say in time.”

  “But even if you succeed, can’t she still choose to be a Good when she gets to her judgment?”

  “She can, but you’d be surprised at the number who don’t. Most people who’ve done evil in life either have no desire to do good or they don’t feel they deserve to be good. Only a very few repent and determine to do good from that day through all eternity.”

  “So you think your odds are pretty good here.”

  “I do.”

  “Why are you here? I mean, in addition to Price?”

  “Lucifer thinks Price’s view on this is too uncertain. Murder is rarely the easiest option, so there’s a good chance he won’t be for it. Lucifer asked me to come down and see the job done properly.”

  “Can he do that? I thought there was supposed to be just a Good and a Bad.”

  “You and Price are a special case. He’s dark gray, and you are black and white. He’s all about the easy option, and on any given assignment, your soul is more in danger than that of your ward. Price has a mean streak, but no real taste for cruelty. And your rage is only invoked for misguided righteous causes. Lucifer feels Bad is sadly underrepresented with the two of you.”

  “So he sent you to even things up?”

  Judas nodded.

  “Do the rules about not killing apply to us?”

  Judas’ mouth twisted, this time with grim humor. “You’re very clever. No, they don’t. Neither of you is my partner, and neither of you is technically Good. I can kill you – you might even be able to kill me.” He ran his tongue along his front teeth. “Makes this one a little more interesting, no?”

  “You can’t have her. I don’t care who you are.”

  Judas laughed, genuinely this time, and his face contorted with the effort. “I already have her. A few more shaded whispers in her ear…and you know what? She’ll do it for the best of reasons. She’ll do it for all the reasons I primed Gerald with – for him, for their daughter, because it won’t hurt anyone except a disliked old codger, because it will mean she won’t have to turn tricks. She’ll think it’s a one-time sin that will leave her with a decent life.” He pointed at Tuesday. “You mark my words. She’ll do it. And soon.”

  Those last words lingered in the air after their dark speaker disappeared.

  Tuesday blinked himself back to the first floor and waved Tricia over under the guise of ordering a drink. “We may be seriously outgunned on this one,” he reported. “You won’t believe who was just back there with Jezebel.”

  “Not your pal Lucifer?”

  Tuesday shook his head. “No, Judas Iscariot, dark angel of the first order. He’s here to see that we fail.”

  “Well, that’s…frightening.”

  “Tell me about it. Jezebel’s not safe, and neither are we.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t know. Talk to her tonight. Make up some story about getting an inheritance from an old relative you never knew anything about. Maybe that will make her think twice about murdering Gerald’s partner. How sure can they be that the stock will go to Gerald?”

  “That’s weak.”

  “What have you got? We can’t just walk in and give her a speech about right and wrong. She’ll convince herself she’s doing right for her daughter. And if we show up as angels, she might decide death isn’t all that big a deal, after all.”

  “Maybe she’s right. Maybe we should just let this one go.”

  “No. Jez seems like a basically good woman. How can we let her take on a murder? Not to mention that Gerald’s partner might not be quite tired of life yet.”

  “Fine. I’ll try to catch her on my next break or after my shift. What are you going to do?”

  Tuesday shook his head. “I don’t know. Go back to the room for a while and try to come up with a better plan.”

  ***

  Tuesday’s better plan took two directions. For the first, he stopped into the hotel’s business center to do a little research. As far as he knew, Jezebel only had one skill. Was Vegas the best place to be a stripper? He had a sinking feeling the answer was yes, but was determined to find out anyway. If there was anywhere she could make more money, the whole murder scheme might just blow over.

  He wondered briefly if the hotel would care that he was googling ‘stripper pay’, but decided in Vegas there probably wasn’t a porn filter on the network. Much to his delight and surprise, he found a recent article on a popular news site about the oil and gas boomtowns in North Dakota and how strippers there were raking in tremendous amounts of money. When he saw the figure, he almost choked.

  “Now that is something we can work with,” he exclaimed, somewhat to the alarm of the serious-looking Asian man sitting one row over.

  He flew back to the Palomino and grabbed Tricia to give her the news.

  “Holy cow. For two grand a night, even Tricia might relax her standards.” He frowned. “There is the small matter of it being in North fucking Dakota, though. Who wants to live in the coldest hellhole known to man?”

  “Well, don’t make that part of your speech to Jez, idiot. If she cares about her daughter, she won’t care anyway. She rakes in the cash, and Emily gets a wholesome, Midwestern upbringing.”

  “You may be onto something there, T. I’ll put it in front of her. We may not be so overmatched after all.”

  “I’ll come back when your shift is over at three, okay? I want to know if Judas is around and see what she has to say to Gerald. Do you know what time Jez gets off?”

  “She came in at nine tonight, too, so I assume she’s off at three.”

  Tuesday nodded. “See you in a bit.”

  From the back alley, he flew into their room at the Venetian. He again plucked one of his black feathers, taking pains to strip all the soft vane from its length, except for two inches at the very end. The tip was sharp and the shaft straight. It would make a good arrow.

  Next he conjured up a bow. He’d taken archery in college to avoid any real sports for the exercise requirement. He’d been okay, but not great.

  The bow he conjured was based on what he could remember from class. It was fiberglass with a nylon string. He nocked the arrow and aimed for the spot between two framed prints on the wall behind the dining table. The space was about the size of a man.

  First shot – square in the middle of a cubist picture of a vase on a table, or at least that’s what he thought it was. Second shot – between the pictures, barely. Third shot – better.

  He took twenty shots, and by the last ten, he was hitting close enough to center to kill a man – or an angel. Granted he was only fifteen feet away, but it would have to do.

  He wondered how much the hotel would charge for fixing the holes in the wall.


  At a few minutes before three, he disappeared from the room, and reappeared next to the Mercury in the hotel garage. He put his makeshift bow and arrow in the back seat and made his way down the strip, then a couple of blocks over to the Palomino.

  Tricia was waiting outside for him, leaning against the brick wall of the club. She hopped into the passenger seat as soon as he pulled up.

  “I was hoping you’d be early. I just got off, but Jez’s last number was about half an hour ago, so she’s already gone. Do you want to drive or should we just fly over?”

  Tricia morphed into Price before his eyes, gray t-shirt and jeans replacing her short, black waitressing uniform.

  “Let’s fly,” Tuesday said. “I suspect we don’t have a lot of time to waste. Did you have a chance to talk to her?”

  Price nodded. “I only got in the North Dakota story. The other one seemed too forced. I’ll bring it out tomorrow.”

  Tuesday got out and grabbed the bow and arrow out of the back seat.

  “Wow,” Price said, looking at him over top of the car. “What the hell is that for?”

  “For killing Judas.”

  Price opened his mouth, then snapped it shut without a word.

  “Let’s go then,” he said finally, and the two of them flew the short distance to the home of Jez and Gerald.

  This time they were at their kitchen table, not out on the back stoop.

  “I’m going to do it, Jez, whether you agree or not. I don’t see any other way.”

  “Gerald, you can’t. You just can’t. What if I could make more money? This girl at work tonight told me dancers in the new oil towns in North Dakota are bringing in two grand a night. I could make enough money for both of us – at least for a few years. By then you could have a new contracting business up and running there.”

  “Move to North Dakota? Are you freaking kidding? I can’t live someplace where it’s cold all year round. Maybe Santa needs a stripper at the North Pole. How about that?”

  “Gerald, you’re not making any sense.”

  “No? Well, suppose we were to up and move to North Dakota based on some rumor you heard from a girl at work. Does that make any sense? What if the economy in North Dakota is no better than here? What if Vegas comes back first? Then I’ve given up my business for nothing. Do you know how hard I’ve worked for this company? It’s mine just as much as it is Joe’s. I don’t want to bag it and throw in the towel so my wife can move us to North Dakota and support me by dancing for oil riggers.”