Angel Dust

by Sarah Mussi

  ‘Larry, can I check something out with you?’ I asked, my heartbeat suddenly accelerating.

  ‘For you, darling, anything,’ he said in that lazy way of his. ‘Except of course my steel guitar.’

  I looked at him, puzzled.

  ‘Rod Stewart,’ he said. ‘So retro.’

  I was no clearer. Anyway, no matter. Instead I launched straight in with my question.

  ‘Larry, it’s important I understand something. I’ve been very worried. You said you were an Independent Celestial Advisor – I just need to be sure exactly who you were working for when I signed the Extension contract. It was God – wasn’t it?’

  Larry threw back his head and laughed. ‘Bless you, Abracadabra! Did you think I was working for the Horned Horror?’

  I mentioned the fuss in Heaven and the breach and how it had really shaken me.

  ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘I work for myself.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, not entirely sure that answered my question.

  ‘Oh golly gosh, you poor child,’ he chuckled. ‘Luckily for you, you don’t have a clue about being self-employed – but if you did, you’d know that even self-employed beings are regulated.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said again. Of course they were bound to be regulated. God loved Rules.

  ‘There – are you reassured?’

  I was. At least I think I was. The idea of rules and regulations certainly calmed me. But I needed to find out a lot more about the regulations to be certain. Now, though, wasn’t the right time and I didn’t want to annoy him. So I put on a smile and said, ‘Could I ask you something else?’

  ‘Let me guess! It’s about your little project, Reforming the Bad Boy, isn’t it?’

  I wasn’t completely happy about the word ‘little’, but I carried on anyway.

  ‘Larry, I was so confident when I took out the Extension that I’d be able to just explain everything to Marcus,’ I said, ‘and I hoped the love of an angel would be enough to –’

  ‘Absolutely, Angel-cakes, I should think so,’ said Larry. ‘Anyone who isn’t half in love with you must be totally retarded!’ Larry looked at me, his pale blue eyes shining like a cat.

  Deep inside them I saw something that jolted me. Was Larry interested in me? I stared at him. Like that? There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes. If I’d have given the word he’d have devoured me on the spot.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, because I’d lost track of what I was going to say.

  ‘You thought he’d fall for you,’ smiled Larry, prompting me.

  ‘No, but –’

  ‘But what?’ said Larry. ‘I think you two would make a lovely pair.’ His voice dropped as he said it. I saw the light in his eyes die a little, as if the idea of Marcus and me happy together hurt him.

  ‘But Marcus is so trapped,’ I said. ‘He wants to change. I know he does. He tried to repent. But it didn’t work out. In fact it went terribly wrong. Everything backfired. And now I’m scared he won’t try again – in fact he might do anything. He’s not in the least bit worried about death and damnation. He just seems to obey his own rules. I’m scared he may not take any notice of me, however much I talk to him.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Larry, but I noticed the fear had gone from his eyes.

  ‘And I was wondering if you’ve had any success – mentoring him? I know you helped him out at the police station – thank you so much. Do I owe you anything for that?’

  Larry smiled at me, a big broad confident smile. ‘Getting him to turn Queen’s evidence was only part of my strategy. And it’s all on the basis of no win, no fee! How’s that?’ He said it like he’d just caught a cricket ball with one hand.

  My heart settled a bit. It was very generous of him, but I wasn’t so sure about his ‘strategy’. Turning ‘Queen’s evidence’ had actually made things worse. But all I said was, ‘Thanks.’

  To tell you the truth I’d have been a lot more easy in my mind if he been a bit less flippant and had charged me properly. No win, no fee might just mean, if you don’t pay anything – you don’t get anything.

  ‘I’ll be at his side constantly,’ said Larry. ‘I’ll whisper in his ear all the time. Except when you two are together, of course!’ He tapped the side of his nose knowingly.

  I blushed.

  ‘But it may not be enough,’ he warned.

  My heart sank. That was just what I thought.

  ‘What else can I do?’ I said, my voice breaking.

  ‘You need to try to see more of him,’ asserted Larry firmly. ‘When the girl you love isn’t with you All The Time your imagination goes crazy. You ask yourself: where is she, then? What’s she doing? Shagging my best friend? Why isn’t she here? Probably shagging all my friends. He’ll be driving himself completely mental thinking about you.’

  I gulped. I’d no idea humans thought like that! So base. So –

  ‘Sorry to say it like it is,’ smiled Larry, ‘but would I tell a lie?’

  Well, he had come straight to the point, however, um . . . indelicate.

  I sighed. ‘But I can’t always be on Earth, you know that, and it’s so difficult at the moment.’ I thought of God’s Army and shuddered. ‘Even now I shouldn’t really be here,’ I said.

  ‘Poor you,’ said Larry sympathetically, ‘but Marcus won’t understand, will he? He’ll think: well, you’re an angel; you can do what the hell you want, so if you’re not visiting him that means you don’t really want to. It’ll drive him nuts! Just imagining you off with the next guy.’ Larry slid his arm around my waist.

  ‘Oh no,’ I cried.

  Larry dropped his arm. ‘But talking about the next guy,’ he said silkily, ‘I don’t suppose he has a chance, has he?’ Larry looked at me. There was no mistaking his question.

  ‘Oh Larry,’ I said. ‘No chance.’

  ‘Oh well, just trying,’ said Larry, ‘but I totally get you, and honestly, if you want to reassure Marcus, you’ve got to spend a lot longer with him. If he slips up and takes a wrong turn, it’ll be Hell and Damnation for him, before you can spit out a blessing and flick up a wing feather.’

  I trembled. The idea of Marcus burning in the fiery pits. I folded my wings in tight until they were all flight shafts standing stiff around me. My brilliance wavered; the stench of Styx wove itself nightmarishly close. I could feel its appalling breath on my skin.

  ‘Larry, help me,’ I pleaded. ‘Please help me. Is there any way angels can get down to Earth? I don’t mean as an Outcast or a ghost – that wouldn’t help – I’d have to stay invisible . . . and I’ve got to be there – solidly with him – all the time . . .’

  ‘Only one,’ muttered Larry, ‘and you don’t want to even consider it.’

  ‘A way!’ I cried.

  Larry shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know,’ he replied.

  ‘But I do,’ I said. ‘I’m ready to do anything to save Marcus.’

  ‘Anything?’ said Larry.

  ‘Yes, anything.’

  ‘You’re crazy!’ he said.

  ‘I think . . . I’m in love,’ I said slowly. It was the first time I’d said it out loud. And it felt right. So right that I laughed in a sudden mad way and wondered why I’d never said it before. ‘And love will do anything – it can conquer everything, can’t it?’

  ‘Not this,’ he said.

  ‘Please tell me,’ I said.

  ‘No. You don’t want to know. You could never do it, anyway. Never should do it.’

  ‘Please tell me,’ I said quite coldly. ‘I assure you if there is a way, I’m quite prepared to take it.’

  He paused. ‘You have to Fall,’ he said flatly.

  My God. He was right. I’d have to Fall.

  ‘Yes, Fall,’ he said, ‘fall from Heaven completely, fall from God’s grace. Cease to be an angel.’

  To Fall.

  The thought sent shivers into me. To renounce Heaven. To lose for ever the Elysian Fields, the gentle winds of Heaven. The smiles of my friends, the laughter of the bless
ed.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Larry. ‘I told you it was a non-starter and you couldn’t do it.’

  But couldn’t I? What was love, then, if I wasn’t able to cast away everything for its sake? My love would be as empty and shallow as a plastic rose, mere show, lifeless, insubstantial, a flame in the wind. Marcus was right to doubt me. He’d seen through me at a glance. I remembered the single word he’d said at the club. ‘Liar.’ A deep shame swept over me at the thought that I wasn’t ready to love him above and beyond everything.

  I turned to Larry. ‘What is love, then,’ I asked him, ‘if it can’t commit itself even to save a soul?

  Larry put an arm around my shoulder. ‘Cast it out of your mind, Candelabra,’ he said, ‘I should never have told you. I regret doing it. It was silly and irresponsible of me. And I won’t give you the kit.’

  ‘Larry,’ I said, ‘don’t blame yourself. I forced it out of you. I wanted to know. I truly did. What is a kit?’

  ‘You’ve got yourself all tied up in knots wondering about the nature of love and doubting yourself.’ Larry smiled kindly. He laid a hand on my left shoulder. ‘And that’s confusing you. Of course you love him – enough. Of course you do, but nobody in their right mind expects you to give up immortality for the love of a stupid human boy, and (let me remind you) a very sinful, ungrateful human to boot.’

  I flinched at that.

  But to give up immortality?

  I dropped my head. Larry meant it kindly, I suppose, but his words stung. Was that all Marcus was? A stupid, sinful, ungrateful human? Something that didn’t qualify for the love of an angel? And if that was so, what did God’s love mean? Why did we bother saving humans at all?

  Love, then, was a silly shallow emotion.

  I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t think like that. Marcus was worthy of loving, worthy of sacrificing everything for. Love could leap even the divide between Heaven and Hell. I would save Marcus. I would. I’d prove my love. Even if I had to Fall.

  I stood there suddenly stronger, more resolute, more in charge. There was nothing that I couldn’t do for Marcus.

  As if Larry could read my mind he suddenly winked at me. ‘You’d have to go all the way, you know – inhabit a human body, become fully mortal, no messing around, no hanging on to your eternity. You do understand what real Falling is? Although,’ he added, ‘of course there might be advantages to being mortal.’

  I looked at him, confused. I would not consider any advantage! If I Fell it would be for the most pure and noble reasons.

  Larry winked. ‘Like touch,’ he whispered. ‘Real sensation! Oooo!’ And he ran a finger across my feathers.

  Touch. As soon as he said it the image of Marcus at his birthday party rose up to haunt me.

  Me, in the doorway, quite overcome. Grieving for all the things that might have been, and never were. The music turned up. Me disorientated. Me imagining what it would be like to be human. Not an Angel of Death. Not immortal. Me swaying to the music, imagining I had a body. A real body. Flesh and bone. A body that someone, some day, could hold . . .

  And Marcus with his smile, his lovely crooked smile, showing off his pearly teeth, dragging the prettiest girl into his arms. Me watching as she moulded herself against his chest, seeing the muscles in his arms straining against his shirt, trembling as he used the music to send her crazy, imagining it could be me with Marcus . . .

  Oh yes, there could be advantages to having a human body!

  I shivered in delight as I thought about them, imagined his hands hot on my skin, his broad strong hands cupping my chin, lifting my mouth up to his. His pearly teeth biting gently on my cheek, sucking my lower lip in, nibbling it with sharp, sweet bites. The pressure of his mouth at last, his tongue forcing my lips open, penetrating, exploring, filling my mouth with sweet savage kisses . . .

  I blinked. Where had those images come from? I held my breath; deep strange carnal longings shuddered through me. Things I’d never imagined. Could never have imagined. Things I never knew a human body could do to another human body. And they felt good! I squeezed my eyes tight. I tried to push the visions away. They left me panting and yearning and feeling an exhilaration that thrilled me more than a thousand sweet Heavenly breezes.

  I looked up at Larry. He was smiling at me gently, looking so kind, so concerned, but as I turned my head I thought I caught a gleam of triumph in his eyes.

  ‘Hey, Shara, I can see just where your mind’s going,’ he said, winking, ‘but Don’t Go There. That’s an order. Wait and see how Marcus is today. There, that’s sensible advice, isn’t it?’ Larry pulled a stupid face, as if sensible advice was nasty, pinch-your-nose-and-swallow-it medicine. ‘Talk to him first. He won’t want you to risk so much for him. He won’t expect that of you. He knows he’s only a human.’

  I know Larry was trying to reassure me, but I wasn’t reassured. What, expect Marcus to feel he was ‘only a human’ in my eyes? That was hardly likely to reassure him, was it? Plus, he wasn’t. He was everything. He was a God (among men, obviously). He should be treated like a God. He should expect everything from me. And I should deliver it. No, Larry was wrong. I wasn’t going to tell Marcus I was prepared to Fall to Earth for him, and then ask him if he was important enough for me to do it. What, tease him? Make him refuse? Make him admit his worthlessness?

  Never.

  I would do it.

  Serafina 29

  I’d never actually been to a funeral before, so I’m probably no judge, but I thought it was phenomenal. The hearse led a cavalcade of cars up the long drive to the crematorium. Joey’s family had spared nothing. (The size of the hearse alone totally amazed me.) White lilies woven into flamboyant wreaths rode like figureheads on the prow of each limousine. They read: OUR JOEY BIGGA THAN EVA and LUV U MUM and RIP JOEY.

  His family followed in a second equally huge car. It sailed up the long drive to the crematorium as if blown in by a typhoon. There was his mother all dressed in black and his father with a top hat on that looked vaguely out of keeping with the white flower tucked in his lapel.

  There were Joey’s brothers, the whole crew of them. I recognised them immediately from outside the police station. Today they looked different. There was something almost indecently sexy about the way they walked. Their dark pinstriped suits sat on their square shoulders and narrow hips like they were fashion models.

  All four of them wore dark glasses and trilbies with white crown bands, and had hands so feverish they looked like they longed to feel the throttle of a motorbike beneath their touch, or were itching to draw a weapon. Pow.

  And then came Marcus.

  My pulse leapt. He stepped from the next limousine as if he were an archangel himself. Gone was the downcast air of yesterday. Now there was something bold and reckless in his step. I compared him with the other mourners. What was the grace of the brothers, the smartness of the father compared to him?

  He spoke to Joey’s mother. I wondered how she could receive with such composure his glance, which seemed to slice through me. I expected her colour to drain; but I was pleased when it didn’t. He isn’t the same as them, I thought: he isn’t of their realm. There is something celestial about him. I can see it. He’s like me. Though the firmament should separate us, I recognise him. He’s mine. I’m his.

  The third car arrived and coasted to a standstill. Marcus crossed the drive and held the front door open for his mother. After she had stepped down and hurried to greet and hold Joey’s mother, Marcus opened the back door for his sisters.

  And my God, how beautiful they were. Rayanne, the older, was slim and tall with legs that reached her armpits. And the cut of her skirt, just above the knee (with such heart-lurching promise of things higher up) got all of Joey’s four brothers fixated on her – from the moment she lowered her lacy veil to the way she set her high-heeled shoe (four inches!) so daintily upon the path.

  Instantly the eldest of Joey’s brothers pushed his siblings back, jumped towards her, offered her his arm, h
is smile, his heart (and other body parts too, I guess, if she gave him the chance).

  Marcus’s younger sister got down from the limousine. Sweet, kind Jasmine. She ran to Joey’s mother, hugged her, helped her, guided her along walkways, up steps to the crematorium, pressed her arm, offered her tissues. She smiled shyly at Joey’s father and greeted the older relatives so respectfully. As soon as Joey’s mother was in the right place, she raced round the side of the parking lot and checked on the undertakers. I honed my hearing.

  Had they remembered the wreaths from the house? Had they got enough programmes? Did they want her to get the brothers ready to bear the coffin in? Had the photographer arrived? No? They couldn’t start till he had. I listened in on all. Marvelling. How she whirled around, all sympathy, practicality, compassion.

  When her mother needed a hanky – she was there; when her sister couldn’t find the restroom – she was there; when Marcus needed a crutch – she stood up straight and let him lean affectionately upon her.

  And all the while I stood with Larry, far off, in amongst the graves, watching.

  Larry pressed my arm and whispered, ‘Courage, Demerara, you’re so brave.’

  I gave him a smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

  ‘I’ve got a few deals to close today,’ he said, ‘but I swear I’ll watch over your boy. I just had to drop by to see you were getting along OK. But, just in case you wanna live dangerously,’ he said, raising his eyebrows like Groucho Marx, ‘and be mad, bad and completely cuckoo!’ He blew me a kiss. ‘Here.’ He drew something out of his briefcase. ‘Gotcha,’ he said. And he hung a small silver whistle on a chain around my neck.

  ‘What’s it for?’ I asked

  ‘Whistling,’ he said.

  Then before I could say, ‘But what’s it really for?’ he dived into his briefcase again. This time he pulled out a small package and pressed it into my hand.

  I took it. ‘Thanks,’ I whispered.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘it’s a freebee, a twofer.’

  ‘A twofer?’ I asked.