ARCHANGEL

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “You wanted to kill Lucifer for Michael more than you wanted to out of hatred,” Raphael whispered.

  Abaddon nodded, flexing his massive hands into fists. “I had our Father’s love for Michael at my creation. I felt all of what Michael had suspected of Lucifer and kept hidden so as not to anger the Lord. I saw all the eons Michael endured Lucifer’s malicious existence as he watched the Lord’s favorite corrupt others around him. I wished to bludgeon that…”

  “Easy, my brother,” Raphael soothed. “You were right but it was not only the Lord who had been fooled. We were all blind except for Mike.”

  “It was from him I felt righteousness for the first time. He found me when I had been banished because of the bond forged in that split second of momentary bliss before the Gates of Heaven. Through him, I understood I had done nothing to anger the Lord. His guidance helped keep me sane.”

  “Mike helped me through the aftermath of my last sojourn into sin down here,” Raphael admitted with a short laugh of recognition. “I was feeling sorry for myself at discovering how weak I could be in the face of so petty a dalliance. He suggested it was long past time for me to pay you a visit where I could gain perspective.”

  “I had wondered why it had been so long since your last visit,” Abaddon replied, remembering the time.

  “It was so enlightening seeing you enduring the darkness, I just started laughing,” Raphael nodded his head in agreement. “I was so wrapped up in myself I didn’t feel your thoughts when you lost control of the last animation I had set up for you. Seeing how happy you were when I visited shifted everything into order once again. Why didn’t Mike or Gabe help you?”

  “They tried. They kept trying to bring me into the light with all manner of bright, shining…”

  “Yeah, they never got that part about you,” Raphael interrupted with a laugh, clapping Abaddon on the back. “You craved some darkness. For that, I had to access the Earth in search of ideas. Centuries later, when I gave you the vision of a West Virginia coal miner town I extracted from the song ‘Big John’, you were like a child on Christmas morning. Boy, did Mike and Gabe rag me about that. Afterwards, they never found you anywhere else.”

  “I am a little short on imagination.”

  “Ya think? We’ll have to go visit…”

  “Here comes your friend, Raph.” Abaddon gestured toward the Casino doorway where the receptionist named Carol had come into view.

  Carol wore a light blue, strapped sundress, her red hair spilling down over her shoulders in shimmering waves. The black sandals she wore had a slightly elevated heel, which highlighted her attractive legs. She paused near the pool, spotting Angelina and Catherine in the midst of a throng of people, mostly men. Carol glanced up as if feeling the Archangels’ attention. She waved when she spotted them. Raphael gave her a little wave as he straightened to meet her.

  “Wow, her hair looks good un-tethered like that,” Raphael commented as Carol approached.

  “I feel temptation brewing.” Abaddon stood up next to Raphael as if facing an adversary. “This is indeed a sorceress of some power.”

  Raphael turned sharply toward Abaddon, but grinned wryly when he saw Abaddon smiling in slightly mocking tone at him. “I’ve mentioned how annoying you are becoming, have I not?”

  “I believe you have mentioned it,” Abaddon replied, satisfied with the reaction his comment had engendered.

  “Hi,” Carol greeted them, clearly in awe of the two Seraphim of Heaven. “I…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, my Lord Raphael. I…”

  “Call me Raph. Everyone else does. I know how confusing all this must seem to you, but…”

  “It is all very clear to me,” Carol cut in, grasping Raphael’s right hand with both of hers as she met his gaze. “You would like me to let you know during your stay when someone of power checks in and where they would be at any given time.”

  “I revealed a bit more to you in our first touch than I realized. It was not my intention for our acquaintance to simply be about using you.”

  “I’m glad.” Carol remembered the other reasons she would assist in setting up the meeting. “Would you really like to go out for a late dinner with me? I do know a nice place you might like right here in this section of suites. We can get a massage and…”

  “And we’re a little underdressed for dinner?”

  “Maybe a little. You look well dressed to me.”

  “Would you mind looking after our friends, Abaddon?” Raphael asked, not looking away from Carol.

  “Of course. Can you leave the phone for me, so I can have Sister Angelina order some food?”

  Raphael nodded. “No thinking about stuff that makes you lose concentration, okay? Just charge anything on the room.”

  “I will endeavor not to make a spectacle of myself. Go on and have a good time but stay away from the gambling. Can you steer my brother clear of the gambling, Carol?”

  “It will be very difficult. I’ll try to redirect his attention.” Carol threaded her arm through Raphael’s.

  Abaddon sat down again on the lounger. He turned his attention once again to the pool. Catherine and Angelina were sitting up along the pool rim, talking with a group of six men and three women. Abaddon concentrated, bringing the conversation within his hearing. He listened appreciatively to the flirtatious exchanges, trying to decipher some of the underlying meanings in the otherwise unremarkable dialogue. An employee of The Venetian approached with a tray of beverages. Abaddon looked up at him questioningly.

  “Your brother ordered these for you, Sir,” the young man explained in professional manner. “Long Island Iced Tea and two draft beers.”

  Abaddon took one of the beers from the tray and pointed toward the pool. “Would you give the Long Island Iced Tea to the blonde haired woman in the dark red bathing suit and serve the beer to the dark haired woman in black? Did my brother handle your tip too?”

  “Very generously, Sir. My name is Eric. I will be around at your service when you wish to order some food also.”

  “Thank you. Don’t you have to…”

  “Your brother handled it, Sir,” Eric interrupted. “I’ll take the drinks to your friends now.”

  Abaddon watched Eric deliver the drinks for Catherine and Angelina, both of whom gave him a gesturing wave of thanks. Watching the two women in the midst of admirers stirred a satisfaction within the Archangel. He remembered when first he touched each of them in their prison cells. His thoughts returned to his brother - the cherished memory of when Michael first sought him out in the darkness, greeting Abaddon like an old friend.

  “You’re a big one,” a softly lilting voice exclaimed near him.

  Abaddon cursed himself momentarily as he realized the past reverie had caused him to forget his present surroundings. Looking up at the beautiful blonde haired woman standing a few feet away from his lounger, Abaddon smiled and sat up. The taller than average woman holding a drink glass in her hand gestured at the lounger next to him.

  “Mind if I sit down? My name’s Rachel.”

  “I do not mind, Rachel,” the Archangel replied. “Please join me. My name is Abaddon.”

  “Wow,” Rachel commented with a chuckle as she sat on the edge of the lounger. That’s a name I don’t believe I’ve ever heard. It’s not some kind of demonic name, is it?”

  “No,” Abaddon answered with a wry shake of his head to punctuate the one word reply. “My name has not been very popular but it is definitely not demonic. The name Rachel is a very old biblical name, wife of Jacob, and mother of Joseph and Benjamin.”

  Rachel laughed. “I’m not a mother of anyone. You seem to know the bible. I saw you and your three friends enter the pool area. Did you notice me?”

  “No, I…”

  “With those two hotties you were with, I’m not surprised. When I saw the other male hunk leave with the redhead, I thought maybe you two weren’t with the thong twins.”

  “I’m sure I would have noticed you if I
had been looking around.” Abaddon admired Rachel’s black bikini top with matching sarong around her waist. “My brother Rafael along with Catherine and Angelina over there travel with me. We are all very close.”

  “Rachel!” A deep gravelly voice called out from near the entrance to the pool area.

  Abaddon saw a huge man in kaki shorts and shirt approach at a fast pace. The man was nearly as tall as Abaddon, with muscles rippling under his shirt impressively. His close-cropped brown hair framed a grizzled face which radiated outrage in waves as he hurried to join them. Abaddon looked at Rachel questioningly. A look of almost satisfaction settled over her features. She returned Abaddon’s gaze, shrugging apologetically.

  “It’s my boyfriend.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Rachel’s angry boyfriend immediately demanded in accented English, eying Abaddon with unconcealed menace. “I look away for minute and you throw yourself at stranger.”

  “I am not throwing myself anywhere.” Rachel gestured at Abaddon. “This is Abaddon. Abaddon, meet Victor Krazinsky: Vic for short.”

  Abaddon stood up and extended his hand, noticing Angelina and Catherine were hurrying in their direction. “I am glad to meet you.”

  Krazinsky looked at Abaddon’s extended hand as if it were a live snake, turning his head to spit instead of shaking it. Abaddon shrugged and dropped his hand. Angelina arrived a split second later with Catherine close behind.

  “Anything wrong?” Angelina asked Abaddon.

  “Possibly. Rachel introduced herself to me a moment ago. Her friend Victor arrived shortly afterward, very perturbed. This all looks very familiar. Am I to buy them drinks?”

  “I’ll buy you…” Krazinsky moved toward Abaddon as if to grab him, but Angelina stepped into his path.

  “Woe there, big boy.” Angelina held out her hand in a stopping motion. “You’re Victor Krazinsky, the heavyweight boxer, right?”

  “Yes, I am Krazinsky. Do I know you, little girl?”

  “No, but I saw you fight on TV a year and a half ago.” Angelina smiled up at the huge boxer. “You could get into a lot of trouble hitting a civilian. You know that. My friend didn’t mean any insult. Perhaps it would be better for you to discuss this with your lady friend, Rachel.”

  As Krazinsky paused, considering Angelina’s words, Catherine stepped around to the other side of Abaddon. She looked from Rachel to Abaddon with a somewhat inebriated irritation in her eyes.

  “What’s this?” Catherine asked Abaddon. “You get around to noticing I’m alive and right away you’re hitting on another blonde.”

  “You’re not helping, Spewy.” Angelina noticed the look of menace return to Krazinsky’s pug face. “Why not take your boyfriend to the other side of the pool, Rachel? I’m Angelina and the troublemaker next to you is Catherine. Now we’re all friends. Let’s part on good terms.”

  “I have time for another drink with friends.” Rachel smiled appealingly at Abaddon. She held up her nearly empty glass.

  “What do you see in pretty boy here?” Krazinsky asked belligerently, trying to move around Angelina who turned toward Rachel with an exasperated look. “Move aside, girlie. I wish to speak with pretty boy.”

  “Trust me, Vic, you don’t.” Angelina quickly blocked Krazinsky. Abaddon smiled attentively at the scene unfolding before him. “Abaddon can make it so you don’t ever fight again.”

  Krazinsky laughed suddenly. “Him? He may be big, girlie, but Abbydon just playboy muscle-head. You are right though. I do not need this. Come, Rachel.”

  “I’d rather have a drink with my new friends.” Rachel sat on the lounge chair again.

  “Why you…” Catherine reached for Rachel but Angelina grabbed her, hauling the infuriated nun back with her.

  “Perhaps we should all have a drink,” Abaddon offered. “What may I order for you, Victor?”

  Eric, the steward Raphael had requested look after Abaddon’s needs, approached quickly at Abaddon’s gesture, eyeing Krazinsky uneasily. “Yes, Sir, what may I get you?”

  “I’ll have an Irish Coffee,” Rachel chimed in, handing her empty glass to the steward.

  Krazinsky stared at Rachel with incomprehension. Angelina took the moment to shake the still struggling Catherine gently.

  “Order something, Spewy, like food, and quit fooling around.”

  “Fine,” Catherine acquiesced, folding her arms over her chest. “I’ll have an Irish Coffee too.”

  Angelina sighed. “Great, a wide awake drunk. I’ll have one too. How about it, Vic, want an Irish Coffee? Believe me - anything else you want will turn out badly.”

  “Okay, girlie.” Krazinsky nodded at Eric. “I will have one and then we are leaving.”

  “Can you bring some hors d’oeuvres too?” Angelina asked Eric, releasing Catherine. “You know, one of those sampler plates with a little of everything.”

  “Right away.” Eric turned to Abaddon. “Would you like an Irish Coffee too, sir?”

  “Yes, Eric, that sounds good.”

  Abaddon walked over to an empty table and picked up a deck chair, bringing it back with him. He set the chair down at the side of a scowling Krazinsky, gesturing for the boxer to sit down. Abaddon returned to his lounger and sat on the edge. Angelina sat across from him in the lounger Raphael had occupied. Catherine peered at Rachel for a moment longer and sat next to a surprised Abaddon.

  “You have own woman.” Krazinsky pointed at Catherine. “What do you need with mine too?”

  “I’m not your property,” Rachel stated. “Why don’t you go back inside and play the big-shot gambler for all the groupies.”

  “Ahhh…” Krazinsky said, smiling at Rachel knowingly. “You wish to make me jealous. I did not mean to ignore you.”

  “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I did make you jealous. I wanted a little intelligent conversation so I came out here.”

  “Oh look,” Angelina said, seeing Krazinsky’s face turn red, even in the less than bright lighting around them. “Here come our drinks.”

  When Krazinsky saw Eric approaching he bit off the angry response on the tip of his tongue and waited for the steward to serve them. Eric set the tray of hors d’ oeuvres on the table near the loungers where Abaddon, Catherine, and Rachel sat. Eric passed out the Irish Coffees before handing each one of them a small plate for their food. The steward picked up the plate of appetizers and offered them to each of the group. After serving them, Eric moved away, nodding at Abaddon.

  “If I may ask,” Abaddon said, after taking a sip of his Irish Coffee, “what does a boxer do?”

  Krazinsky nearly coughed up the sip he had taken of his drink. He set his cup down on the patio surface and stood up, flexing his hands into fists.

  “You try to be funny, pretty boy?”

  Angelina stood up reluctantly after one glance of admonishment toward Abaddon. “My friend has led a very sheltered life, Vic. He’s…”

  “Yes, I bet he has,” Krazinsky cut her off. “C’mon, pretty boy. I show you what boxer do.”

  Abaddon stood up, setting his drink and food on the table. As Angelina turned to block the Archangel, Abaddon grasped her at the waist and turned with her in the air, setting her back down behind him gently.

  “Oh boy,” Angelina muttered comically. Catherine clasped a hand over her mouth in mirth and Rachel merely leaned forward attentively.

  Abaddon faced Krazinsky with his hands at his sides, smiling at the boxer.

  “I am here. Show me.”

  Krazinsky grinned. “Better put hands up, pretty boy, not that it will do you any good.”

  Angelina looked around uneasily as many of the group by the pool wandered over to see what was going on.

  “Baby, please don’t hurt this man,” Angelina pleaded.

  “I am not your baby, girlie,” Krazinsky retorted, “but I will only bitch slap pretty boy until he knows what a boxer is.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Vic.” Angelina shook her head as Catherine laughe
d through the fingers of her hands.

  Hearing Catherine laugh enraged Krazinsky even more. He launched a lightning fast open handed slap with his right hand which would have stunned a full-grown ox. Abaddon merely batted it away at the last second with a movement no one saw fully in the dim light. Krazinsky snorted and swung with a combination of open-handed blows. They never quite reached their target. The crowd of people murmured in disbelief. They watched the leading heavyweight boxing contender try to land a blow through Abaddon’s seemingly nonchalant defenses. In mounting rage, Krazinsky began punching with closed fists, the force of his blows throwing him off balance as Abaddon continued slapping them away. Finally, after more than fifteen minutes, Krazinsky stopped his attack, groggily looking at Abaddon in uncomprehending fury. Krazinsky’s shirt was soaked in sweat. His arms felt like dead weights while the massive Abaddon still stood calmly with his hands at his sides.