Angel Dust

by Sarah Mussi

  ‘Two for one!’ he giggled. ‘You find a crossroads – then you blow the whistle or go mad, wondering what would have happened if you had!’

  I didn’t have a clue what he meant. My face must have shown it.

  ‘Nothing to it,’ he said. ‘RTBM.1 And if you make it to Earth and feel like partying,’ he started humming, ‘I’ll be in da club with a glass full of . . .’ Then he winked and left.

  I stood there, nonplussed.

  What had Larry meant? RTBM?

  I looked at the package he’d given me. It felt like there was a box inside the plastic bag. I drew it out. It was a box. On it was written:

  * * *

  FALLING FROM HEAVEN

  THE COMPLETE D.I.Y. DROP-DOWN KIT

  (with instructions)

  * * *

  Serafina 30

  The rest of the gangsters arrived: Marcus’s crew. Oh, those gold chains, those diamond-studded ears, those low-slung belts, tight jeans, edgy haircuts, dark looks, glittering eyes, rough-shaved chins. They hung back after greeting the families and formed a well-dressed, dangerous wall around the gathering.

  When they were in position Joey’s younger brother moved over to Marcus.

  I tucked the D.I.Y. kit into the sash of my dress, wondering how exactly it worked and why Larry happened to be carrying one. Was Falling from Heaven so common? Did he do daily deals with kit boxes? And giving me the whistle too? There was something worrying about it. Larry – charming as he appeared – didn’t seem like the kind of being who gave things away for nothing. I remembered something about whistles too – or was it bells? Yes, it was bells. Bell, book and candle. Excommunication.

  Still feeling uneasy, I turned my attention back to Marcus.

  ‘Just give us the nod, bro.’ Joey’s brother was saying. (The youngest one looked like an oversized Al Capone.) ‘If the Crow shows up to mess with Joey’s send-off, we’re ready. All the boys are tooled up, you-biz?’

  Marcus looked at him and nodded slightly. Then he put his head to one side. ‘Hey, Spider,’ he said. ‘Man wants to thank you again for bailing me yesterday.’

  Spider gave him the brotherhood salute, knuckle to knuckle, fist to chest.

  ‘You know man was shot,’ continued Marcus. ‘Well, man had to do some computing. When you brush with death, it calls for brain activity, you-get-me?’ He laughed like brain activity was something none of them rated.

  Spider nodded. ‘Yeah, man,’ he said.

  ‘Man wanted to step right out of the gang thing, true,’ said Marcus.

  I wanted to shout out. But don’t give up. I couldn’t help you yesterday. But I’m here now.

  Spider looked at Marcus. ‘You was nuts,’ he said, not unkindly.

  ‘But I learned one thing, bro,’ said Marcus. ‘The po can’t protect you. Innocent people get hurt. Joey, and now Melly, and what am I gonna tell Lil Joe when he’s big? Your mum and dad died and the guy who killed them is still sipping Bacardi?’ He laughed. ‘I don’t think so. But I don’t need no back-up for this one, that’s what I mean to say. Nobody else gets hurt. It’s me an’ da Crow, now. You-get-me?’

  My jaw dropped. My heart sank.

  Somebody shouted, ‘Yo, my man, M! How ya doing?’

  Marcus nodded at Spider. ‘Keep it close,’ he said, ‘but I’m going for him. Trust me.’ Then he turned aside and walked back towards the crematorium reception area.

  Spider slipped away, and sidled up to his older brother.

  I listened.

  ‘Marcus wants to take out da Crow solo,’ Spider said.

  Take out the Crow?

  The brother nodded. ‘Yo, da Big G’s taken it bad. Joey was his main man, you-know – and now this Melly thing.’

  ‘But he’s talking cutting us out,’ said Spider.

  ‘Allow it,’ said the brother. ‘He was waving hello to God too, d’you-know-what-I’m-saying. He’s as mad as Hell; but he’ll call for us, bro; he knows we’re fam.’

  ‘Seen,’ said Spider, looking very doubtful.

  ‘He won’t cut us out,’ reassured the older brother. ‘He knows man dem need to spill blood.’

  An emptiness opened up inside me. Not that.

  ‘Marcus needs to chill,’ said Spider. ‘He’s not well; he needs to find his-self a likkle wifey and let man dem settle this beef.’

  The brother laughed. ‘The day Marcus gets a wifey is the day I get a job.’ He bust himself up laughing.

  ‘What are you two sniggering over?’ said the lovely Rayanne. She strolled over and leaned up against Spider.

  ‘Marcus getting hitched,’ laughed the brother.

  ‘Not. Going. To. Happen,’ said Rayanne, all sassy. (You know, on reflection, she wasn’t as good-looking as I first thought.)

  ‘Told you,’ said the brother.

  ‘Probably aching for a bit of you-know though, and scared he’ll pop an artery!’ suggested Spider.

  I turned to look for Marcus. Where was he? There, standing alone by the edge of the party.

  Time to act.

  I positioned myself. I made sure I was absolutely right in front of him, although some distance away amongst the graves. I quickly checked my clothes. I’d put on a very sober, tight-fitting long black dress. It was off the shoulders and flared from the waist into a full romantic skirt. I wore long black lacy fingerless gloves to match. I tossed my head, my hair spread out in unparalleled beauty.

  One the count of three I apparitioned. Just for the briefest of seconds. I did it perfectly. A sudden burst of sunshine through the grey October morning; to the uninitiated just a stray shaft of sunlight, to Marcus a greeting.

  The guests, shivering in their thin designer gear, looked up, pointed, remarked that perhaps the sun would break through, perhaps Joey was amongst us. But not Marcus. He didn’t bat an eyelid.

  He must have seen me. Surely I’d done it properly?

  I tried again. I let a chorus of songbirds trill.

  Nothing. Except Marcus shrugging and giving me the cold shoulder.

  So he had seen me.

  And as if to rub in the point he turned his back and started walking off in the opposite direction. He took up a place at the furthest side of the cemetery, as far away as possible. He leaned over and steadied himself on some railings.

  Jasmine, seeing he was in pain, rushed to be with him. Surely he must look at me?

  But nothing – not a nod, not a shrug, not a glance.

  I was shivering with a new feeling I couldn’t understand. I folded my wings in tightly around me. Those stern eyes, that cold resolute frown. The sight of him turning away from me.

  I couldn’t bear it. Without meaning to, I cast a rainbow right across the Heavens. I wanted to make him smile. I made the breeze drop. I wanted to see his face light up as he saw me. I made the grey clouds scud away. I made a sunbeam single him out like a stage spotlight. He must forgive me.

  He didn’t even twitch an eyebrow.

  Not a goddamn eyebrow.

  I think I lost my temper. I’d been under a lot of stress. It was either that or burst into tears. And angels don’t cry. They don’t need to. Not when they can command. Marcus was deliberately ignoring me. Did he think he could give me the silent treatment? After everything I’d been through just to be with him? A fury started to burn inside me. I wasn’t having it.

  I got rid of the sunbeam and the rainbow, brought back the grey clouds and grasped his shoulders with a tornado. I made him turn.

  Almost as if he too were fighting himself, he turned. He looked up.

  In a flash I switched to his side of the cemetery, took up a new pose, apparitioned, like a blaze of lightning – right beside the statue of a stone angel. Just for a second. There I was, visible, in a pillar of light.

  And our eyes met.

  Jasmine grabbed his arm, as if she was concerned about him. ‘We all need to go in now,’ she whispered.

  But I held him with the hand of the hurricane. He would see me. He would talk to me. I wo
uld not be ignored.

  ‘They’ll start the service soon,’ she urged.

  I drove the wind hard at his back and forced him to step towards me.

  ‘You’re still not well,’ she added.

  ‘Sort the others out,’ he sighed wearily. ‘Man’s received a summons. There’s someone I need to talk to.’

  Serafina 31

  I sent a sudden gust of wind. Jasmine’s hat sailed off. She looked confused. She didn’t know whether to chase it or stay with Marcus.

  ‘Is it her?’ she whispered. ‘Is she here?’

  I lifted the hat off the ground and bowled it away.

  Marcus smiled at her, gently released his arm from hers.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be in soon,’ he said.

  He gestured towards me. His shrug seemed to say, You don’t need to drive the wind at my back. I’ll come, if it’s that important to you.

  Jasmine looked even more puzzled. She peered around. I stood there trembling by the tombstones, quivering with the force of the cyclone.

  ‘Well, hurry,’ she said and went to chase the hat.

  She chose well. For delightful as she was, she couldn’t stand in my way. Heaven nor Hell nor anything that lies between can stop the divine might of an angel when she’s doing God’s work. And I was. I knew I was. How dare he be angry at me. I’d save his soul by force if that’s what it took. I held the wind steady. I would tell him to repent. And then I would see with the help of thunderbolts what he chose to do.

  Marcus moved forward. When he reached near, I apparitioned seamlessly. He held out his hand, palm facing out in a please-stop-this-nonsense gesture.

  ‘Ho! Angel,’ he said. ‘Are you that desperate?’

  ‘I am,’ I said.

  He sighed in a most hurtful way. But I paid no attention to it. I put aside all pain, all thought of self. ‘Marcus,’ I said in a voice like the End of Days. ‘You may choose to pretend I don’t exist. You may believe that there is no God. But I say unto you, repent. I exhort it in the name of the Lord.’

  ‘Tried it already. Long story. Didn’t work out. Not doing it again,’ he said.

  I gulped a bit, knowing full well just how hard he had tried and just how seriously it hadn’t worked out. I nearly stopped right there. But I forced myself to think of Styx, to remember Joey’s eyes and the terrifying screams that echoed out of Hell.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ I thundered. ‘You have to repent. I command it!’

  ‘Actually you’ve got a nerve,’ he said back, ‘showing up here, ordering me about.’

  With a massive effort I conjured the clouds to roll down, to contort themselves into Joey’s pleading face. Behind the terror in his eyes I let the sun glow red-hot like the fires of Hell.

  There, let him see it for himself.

  He raised his head, took one look at it, went grey, then seemed to settle into a cold fury.

  ‘Hello,’ he said icily, ‘that’s not very nice.’

  ‘Let it be a warning to you!’

  ‘And this is a funeral, in case you haven’t noticed. Not just another opportunity for you to show off.’

  Show off!

  ‘Appearing in sunbursts, all that boring birdsong, animating stone angels – now Joey’s face – that’s sick. This is his funeral, for fuck’s sake! What’re you thinking of?’

  I looked at him, stunned.

  ‘So disrespectful. You should know better. For God’s sake, you’re an angel!’

  ‘But your soul?’ I said. ‘I’ve heard what you plan to do. Do you think that will bring Joey back? You must not take another human life. I command you not to. It’s wrong. It’s wicked. You will pay for it with your immortal soul.’

  ‘Oh pul-lease,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘Marcus do this, Marcus do that. Get real. You don’t control me.’

  ‘But do you not tremble at the thought of Hell Fire and Brimstone?’ I was astonished.

  ‘You’re so predictable, Angel. So one-dimensional. And frankly, I don’t give a shit if you’re real or not. You’re bang out of order,’ he muttered.

  ‘One-dimensional?’ I gasped.

  ‘OK, half a dimension.’ He made a gesture with his hand that upset me.

  I couldn’t stop myself. The feelings all boiled over. Before I knew it I’d raised a storm cloud, a dark cumulonimbus. It rolled over Marcus’s face and hovered ominously above his head. ‘Have a care how you address God’s messenger,’ I threatened.

  He looked up. ‘Go on,’ he said, ‘do your worst.’ And he set his jaw tight and met my eye. ‘Nobody tells me what to do.’

  I couldn’t help it. Something inside snapped. I felt my full powers return. I let the thunder crash, the rain pelt. I couldn’t stand the contempt in his eyes. I made the trees shake. Together we’d been going to work everything out.

  ‘Amen,’ he said. ‘Very supportive.’

  He was mocking me. This time I meant it. I sent lightning lancing down upon the ancient yew tree by the cemetery wall. For a good two minutes the tree writhed in flame, danced in fire, split, crashed, fell. There. He better damn well get the message. Then I raised a gale that howled through the tombstones and moaned at the graves like a disembodied spirit.

  All the mourners hurried into the crematorium.

  Marcus shook his head. ‘And you reckon I need to worry about the Devil?’ he said.

  I made the earth shake. ‘If you don’t repent,’ I screamed, ‘I’ll crack open the very tombs of the dead and make their ashes swirl before you.’

  He must see. He must understand. He must realise.

  ‘With Guardian Angels like you, who needs demons?’ he answered.

  I stopped. Dead. The wind dropped. The rain ceased. The clouds broke.

  ‘Hello, Angel? Now can you guess why I don’t want to talk to you?’ He looked at me steadily. He seemed to be debating with himself. At last he spoke. ‘Apart from your gentle, comforting presence – you did something that really hurt me.’

  I did something that really hurt him.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ He stopped. He seemed to be unable to carry on. ‘Why didn’t you?’ he whispered, his voice suddenly cracking. ‘I thought you cared . . .’ He hesitated. ‘I asked you about Joey – you made me believe he was OK.’ He looked at me. ‘Do you know what that feels like – to believe and then . . .’

  Men like Marcus don’t cry. Their eyes just become set like obsidian. Their grief destroys everything around them. ‘You made me believe you . . . when you should have told me.’

  My jaw dropped.

  ‘And all the time he was dead. And you knew.’

  I dared not look at him.

  ‘And even after that, I still tried to do what you wanted. Not just because I owed you – but because I wanted to believe . . . because I gave my word and I don’t lie.’

  He waited for me to say something. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You don’t give a toss about me, do you?’

  I had to speak. I opened my mouth. I tried to defend myself. ‘You were too unwell . . .’ I started to explain.

  His face grew dark. ‘You don’t care about Joey, either.’ He narrowed up his eyes. ‘Oh, just push off back to Heaven and leave me to show some respect.’

  ‘But your soul?’ I whispered.

  ‘Christ!’ he yelled. Then he stopped. He looked up at the sky. He shook his head. ‘What is the fucking point! You girls are all the same. You’ve got only one thing on your minds.’

  I blinked. I did care about Joey. And I felt guilty. And ashamed. And I didn’t want to talk about it. I should have told him. I was a coward. I wanted to think some good could come out of it. I should be telling him now . . . about Joey’s death . . . but if I could save him . . . I could make it OK . . .

  ‘Girls!’ he snorted. ‘And I thought you were different.’

  I was different. And I did care about him. I loved him so much. More than God or Heaven or anything I’d ever known. I’d have frozen
suns, melted rocks. I’d have even gone into the heart of Hell if he’d asked me to.

  Marcus shook his head. ‘Always telling a guy to fucking fix up. You’re just the same as all the rest.’

  But as for us ‘girls’ being all the same . . . I raised a column of fire before his eyes. I stepped into its burning heart. We. Were. Not. All. The. Same.

  That made him smile. ‘Except you’re very Old Testament.’

  My jaw dropped. Old Testament? Me?

  ‘Two little words,’ he said.

  I looked at him amazed. Earthquake, fire, flood wouldn’t shake him. ‘Old Testament?’ I whispered.

  ‘No, those aren’t the words you need to learn.’

  ‘What are they?’ I said, bewildered.

  ‘My. Life.’

  I snapped my mouth shut.

  ‘I don’t want to be saved any more. Get it? Savvy? Capisce?’

  ‘But,’ I said.

  ‘I tried it and it’s a joke. So I don’t want salvation. I don’t want Heaven. And I don’t want you telling me what to do.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’ I said in a confused half-strangled squeak.

  ‘I wanted Joey to be alive,’ said Marcus, his voice suddenly dangerously soft. ‘I wanted Melly to be alive. But they’re not, and so now I don’t care about anything except getting even.’

  ‘No!’ I cried. ‘You mustn’t give up. I’ll stay by you. I’ll be there!’

  ‘Like you were there when I needed you?’ said Marcus. ‘When Melly was bleeding out, and I was trying to do what you told me?’ His voice was breaking but he stood firm, looking me straight in the eyes. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Repentance, what crap. What about justice, Angel? What about that? What is salvation, Heaven, everything – without justice?’ He flung the words at me with such force that I stepped back.

  ‘But,’ I said again. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘No. You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Joey was my friend.’ Marcus spoke slowly, sadly. ‘I don’t know how it works up in Heaven, but down here your mate is your mate.’

  He looked at me to make sure I understood. ‘He puts up with you when everyone else walks away. He’s there when you’re down, when you ain’t got a dollar to your name. He shares his crummy cheap burger with you – when neither of you’ve got nothing he makes a joke to cheer you up. He opens his crib to you, when you’re out in the cold, alone, drunk and in trouble. He don’t have to be smart, or kind, or clever, or good. Joey wasn’t any of that shit. He was a joke. A crazy bastard. But he was my friend. Understand? He was my friend. My friend.’