Angel Dust
Page 29
‘It is his hour,’ explains Kamuel. ‘His choice now. Let all the angels watch and learn what true love can do.’ He helps me gently to re-form my small human shape around me. Always those last few wisps. I glide into his arms. He shelters me with his wing. Then he whispers, ‘I think they need to hear him in the Golden City too, don’t you?’
Kamuel shows me where to look.
I see Marcus laying a shape on the floor. It’s Zara. I see him raise his eyes to Heaven. I hear him shout out. ‘Forgive me?’ The sound is crystal clear. He cries, ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice is so loud they must surely heed him and record his words in the Book of Days.
He looks down at the girl on the floor.
He bends down. He kisses her. Oh, how he kisses her.
Outside, far away, I hear a church bell start to toll midnight.
I hear Marcus whisper, ‘I’m sorry. I love you. I’ve always loved you.’ He stands up. ‘I’ll show you, Zara, I’m sorry. I repent. I’ll prove it.’
He drops his gun on the floor. He turns to Joey’s brothers. ‘It’s over, guys,’ he says.
One of the brothers unfreezes in time, steps forward. It’s Spider. Perhaps it is his hour too, for his face is shining. The music sounds ethereal.
Yea though I walk through the shadow . . .
Spider’s face is wet with tears.
Marcus stop-signs him away. ‘Spider, it’s over. It won’t bring Joey back.’
But Spider’s not listening. He’s too pumped up. His eyes are bulging. There’s no stopping him.
. . . of the valley of death . . .
And Marcus sees it. He starts shouting at him to stop.
Spider raises his gun. He aims it at the Crow. ‘Never,’ he yells.
Marcus holds up his hand, both palms face-out. ‘No,’ he shouts.
‘For Joey,’ Spider screams.
Marcus steps in front of the Crow. ‘NO!’
The music winds on.
But Spider’s gun is going off.
And Marcus falls.
Earth to earth; ashes to ashes; dust to dust.
The Book of Common Prayer
We are floating outside time. It is not the future, nor the past. I am just a wisp, a soul still clinging to the memory of her mortal body. I look up at Kamuel and I want to know the truth.
‘Kamuel?’ I say. ‘Did you know everything?’
‘From the hour Satan declared war.’
‘Right from the start?’ I say.
‘We knew he’d chosen you.’
So that was it. The last piece of the puzzle slots into place. Now I know why Larry wanted me.
‘What did the Challenge say again?’ I whisper.
Kamuel strokes my soul. It soothes. He quotes the words of Satan’s Challenge:
‘I will pick your brightest and your best, your loveliest and most innocent, from under your hand, and I will so corrupt and drive your chosen one that they will rather Fall and die and live in Hell with Me, than stay in Heaven with You.’
‘He didn’t win,’ I say. ‘I didn’t betray Heaven.’
‘No,’ says Kamuel.
‘But I did promise him my soul.’
‘Yes,’ says Kamuel.
‘And I sent Joey to Hell.’
‘Yes,’ says Kamuel.
‘And I Fell.’
‘Yes,’ he says.
‘So what will become of me?’ I ask.
‘All things are fair in love and war,’ smiles Kamuel. ‘We will make a case. We will appeal in the Halls of the Dead.’
‘Thank you,’ I breathe. Kamuel will take care of me. He will not desert me. Suddenly I wonder at that. ‘Why did they send you?’ I ask.
‘Haven’t you realised?’ says Kamuel. ‘From the minute you met Marcus, I’ve been there beside you.’
I think of the party, the water meadows, Vincent, the Abyss.
‘I was assigned to be your Guardian Angel.’
I remember the lonely figure in the club the night Joey died, his presence again at Styx; the angel flying behind me when I talked to Raquel . . . the figure in the graveyard, the man on the street who hurried away when I met Marcus outside Curlston Heights, the man who scared me that dark night outside the Halloween display; so many times . . . Yes, he’d been there. How strange that I’d noticed and yet not noticed.
‘Why didn’t you tell me what would happen?’ I say.
‘Ah,’ smiles Kamuel. ‘You know we cannot interfere with Fate, we cannot direct choice – what would become of Free Will?’
I nod. I understand.
‘But I tried to show you.’
‘Yes, you did. You even tried to stop me,’ I say.
He draws me near. ‘I would have gone to Purgatorium to stop you.’
‘What happens now?’ I ask. ‘What will become of Marcus?’
‘Ah, yes!’ he says. ‘Marcus.’ His face lights up.
We’re back inside time. We’re back in The Mass nightclub. The bell has just finished tolling midnight. It is 31st October. Halloween. Kamuel is there. I stay beside him. There is Marcus lying on the floor. Poor Marcus. His arm is thrown over Zara. He’s cradling her thin frame. I can see the pulse of his blood pumping out, coating his breast, coating her feathers. His eyes are wide; he’s whispering, ‘I’m so sorry.’
The music is crashing out.
People are screaming.
It’s nearly over.
‘I think we are just in time,’ Kamuel says.
I glide beside him.
A white mist is starting to hover over Marcus.
‘Come and help me, Serafina,’ says Kamuel. He is smiling, radiant, in certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life. ‘We have a soul to save.’
fin
Acknowledgements
I’d like to say a huge thank you to the Archangels:
Beverley Birch
Susie Day
Ruth Eastham
Sophie Hicks
Caroline Johnson
Emma Littlewood
Georgia Murray
Sarah Odedina
Without you Marcus would not have been saved.
Sarah Mussi
London
Serafina 29
1 Read The Blessed Manual
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First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Hot Key Books, Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT
Copyright © 2012 Sarah Mussi
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ebook ISBN: 978-1-4714-0003-2
1
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