by Nola Cancel
“What—what are you talking about? A story?” Mr. Scary asked, fresh tears welling in his eyes at the realization that he was going to die today.
“Tell me a story,” Belial repeated. “Regale me with a tale of someone you made to suffer, someone you inflicted much pain on. You meat-bags are so good at hurting each other and I do love a good story. Just keep in mind, I bore easily.”
Mr. Scary could barely think beyond the excruciating pain radiating throughout his arm, but he knew if he didn’t come up with something, anything, this whatever this guy was would kill him on the spot.
“A few hours ago,” Mr. Scary began, “I stopped to take a piss—”
“You humans and your bodily functions,” Belial interrupted. “A disgusting piece of business if I do say so myself but please, do go on. Remember, it better be good.”
Sweating from every pore in his body, Mr. Scary resumed the story he hoped would spare his life.
“When I came out of the john, I saw this great piece of ass. She was pretty for a middle-aged broad. She had real tits that didn’t sag yet and an ass that was plump and juicy but not huge like all these young sluts are trying to get.”
Mr. Scary stole a peek at Belial whose face showed no interest as he continued to smoke.
He went on, “My dick got hard right away, and I knew I was going to fuck her till she screamed for mercy.”
“Go on.” Belial said. “Tawdry tales tend to bore me but sadism and sodomy are two of my favorite subjects.”
Mr. Scary swallowed hard as the sweat continued dripping down his face. “So I grabbed her from behind as she was going into the bathroom and put my hand over her mouth to cover her screams. She never had a chance. I ripped off her clothes with my other hand, fucked her brains out, and left her bleeding and crying on the floor.”
When the story was over, Mr. Scary turned to look at his tormentor.
“Interesting,” Belial said, the smoke from his cigar drifting up and out of the cracked windows of the car. “Too bad it’s a damn lie.”
“How— What do you mean, it’s a lie?” Mr. Scary was starting to panic. “That’s really what happened.”
“Really?” Belial questioned as he placed the pinky finger of his right hand on the left side of Mr. Scary’s face, watching as the skin instantly deteriorated, leaving nothing but teeth and gums underneath.
Mr. Scary’s screams would have been heard for two miles if the Lincoln hadn’t been soundproofed. Still clutching his mangled hand, he had no way to touch his face to determine how much damage had been done. But, when he could taste Belial’s cigar smoke without opening his mouth, he knew it was horrendous.
“See,” Belial said, “I’ve dealt with human garbage for more years than I wish to count and I’ve gotten really good at telling what’s a lie and what’s the truth. And you lied to me, Herman— you lied. Would you like to try that again or should I just touch every part of your body, starting with that useless piece of meat between your legs?”
“NO! NO! I’m sorry, so sorry, really,” Mr. Scary begged. “I’ll tell the truth, I swear.”
“I hope so,” Belial said. “I don’t want to touch your dick as much as you don’t want me to.”
“No, I promise. I’ll tell the truth,” he pleaded as whatever spit he had left in his mouth came shooting out of the gaping hole in his face. “But, you may not believe me. I don’t believe it. It happened, though. It really happened—honest.”
“Tell me,” Belial said. “I’ll decide what I believe and what I don’t.”
Mr. Scary recounted every detail of his encounter with the woman and her otherworldly protector. He described his beautiful face, the light that seemed to emanate from him, and the grandeur of his unbelievable wings.
When he was done, he wept for himself and his miserable life.
“Did you hear that, Mal?” Belial asked the big man up front.
“Sure did, Boss,” he replied.
“So Joe’s bitch is with Azriel,” Belial mused. “That’s why Michael took Joe with him. Well now, that makes things more interesting.”
“You-you know these people?” Mr. Scary asked.
Belial had momentarily forgotten the meat-bag was there. Looking at this pile of crap sitting next to him, Belial had an idea.
“Turn around, Mal,” he ordered, totally disregarding the human’s question.
“What about Michael?” Mal asked, changing lanes to get off on the very next exit.
“Michael and Azriel, and maybe if we’re really lucky even Joe, will come to us,” Belial said.
“How are you going to manage that?” Mal looked at Belial in the rear-view mirror, waiting for an answer.
“My new friend is going to help me,” he said. “Aren’t you, Herman”?
Mr. Scary felt himself losing consciousness. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was the sound of Belial’s insidious laugh as he did his best to nod in agreement.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Joe couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a real dream. When he got high, he would just pass out after he’d had enough. If he had had any dreams, he definitely couldn’t recall them.
But now that he was totally clean, he was having one helluva great dream.
He was in the basement of his house with Nan. Only, in the dream, it was no longer dark and depressing. The brick walls had been covered with sheetrock and painted a soothing shade of blue. Plush carpeting had replaced the hard gray concrete floor, and the beat-up old brown couch was now the most comfortable leather love seat he had ever felt.
They were talking like the old days. No yelling, no recriminations, and especially, no tears. He was making her laugh with one of his old jokes that she had heard a million times before.
As the dream continued, Nan asked him if he was happy. Joe put his hand on her lower belly and felt the warmth emanating from within. “More than happy,” he said. “Ecstatic. What do you think we should name her?”
“Joe. Joe. JOE!”
The dream was over. Michael was shaking his arm and calling his name.
“Valhalla is the next exit,” Michael said, both hands back on the steering wheel and fully focused on the road ahead. “Where do we go from there?”
“Keep to your left and at the second street light, make a right. Waterway Street is about three miles down. Once we get there, I’m sure I’ll recognize Nan’s old summer home. Her father practically built it from scratch and it’s the only home in the area with a tire swing in the front yard.”
“Good,” Michael said, his face a mask of
determination. “With any luck and Belial’s own stupidity for planting a tracking device in your vehicle, he’ll walk right into my trap and then I’ll have him. I think it would be best if you waited across the street in the car and I will send Nan out to you.”
“No way,” Joe said, itching for his own fight with Belial. “I’m done hiding. When I was young, I hid behind my father’s name and reputation. Then, when I got older, I hid from the world by forgetting there was one. Not anymore. Now it’s my turn to be the man Nan has always deserved.”
“Have it your way,” Michael replied, “but know this— Belial will not be alone. Mal will be with him. I do not know how much strength was taken from Azriel, but on a good day, those two are more than a match for the both of us. Whatever you do, do not engage with either one of them. Get your wife out of there and head to the car. Belial is more dangerous than you can ever imagine. Do you understand?” Michael asked.
“I understand,” Joe heard himself say. But in his mind, he had already killed Belial in every conceivable way.
They sat in silence for a few minutes both lost in their own thoughts. “Can I ask you a question?” Joe finally said.
“What is it you wish to know?” Michael replied.
“What is heaven like?” Joe was having trouble believing those words had actually come out of his mouth, but after the life he’d led, he was genuinely curious and
terrified of the answer, both at the same time.
“I cannot tell you that,” Michael replied, a hint of sadness in his typically calm voice. “I have never been to your heaven.”
“What do you mean, ‘my heaven’?” Joe asked.
“Humans have a soul,” Michael tried to explain. “When they die, their souls pass beyond a veil where angels cannot go.”
“Then tell me what angel heaven is like.” Joe really needed to know that any mistakes he had made in his past would be more than made up for when it came to the angels that had been a part of his life.
“Angels are immortal, Joe,” Michael answered. “We can only perish when we are on earth in human form. Even then, there are only a few methods that can lead to our destruction. But once our existence is at an end, there is nothing more for us.”
“That sucks,” Joe said and meant it.
“No, not really,” Michael said. “We live to love our lord and do his bidding. It is our greatest joy. Heaven, for angels, is the sound of his voice, the warmth of his love, and the purpose he had entrusted to us. We are his hands, his voice, and his message here on earth. It is all we ever need.”
“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Joe pressed.
Michael sighed. “It is difficult to explain to someone who can choose to be lonely or not,” he said. “Angels are of one mind. We are given everything we will ever need or want by our holy Father. However, the longer we are among your kind, the harder it is to reject your individuality and the love you feel for one another. It is the primary reason we are not assigned to one person for their entire life. The temptations of your way of life can be overwhelming for one who is not used to it.”
Michael grew silent. His thoughts drifted to Maria and his all-encompassing love for her. But, along with this love came the fears that had haunted him ever since they first met. He knew what they shared could not last.
She would grow old and he would never change. Eventually, he would have to tell her the truth or leave her alone. And, if he did tell her what he was, would she accept it? Could she love a creature so different from herself, a creature bound to God and one who had no soul?
Michael had these thoughts constantly. If she did accept him and they continued to share their lives with each other, how long would it be before they were found out and the council was told? He knew if that happened, there was a chance he would be cast-out, become an unloved, and although he would have Maria till her life was over, could he give up everything that had given his existence meaning? Could he give up his connection to all other angels, as well as the love he felt from his Lord?
On the other hand, if the council wanted, they could ban him from earth for eternity and he would never see her again. The very thought of this possibility filled him with terror. Either way, this was not the time or place to think about these things.
“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Joe interrupted his thoughts.
“It is fine. You cannot offend me.”
“Then can I ask you another question?” Joe said, gazing out the passenger window as the rows of homes filled with people living normal lives passed by.
“Yes,” Michael replied, grateful for something else to think about.
“Why did Azriel save me?” Joe asked, not certain he wanted to know the answer or not.
“It is his mission to keep you safe and unharmed,” Michael said.
“Why—why me?”
“There are things I cannot explain, matters that you would not understand,” Michael answered.
“Like why I’m still here and my son is gone.” Joe’s eyes filled with tears as he remembered his beautiful child and how quickly he had been taken from them.
“Our heavenly Father does not tell us why some souls are called back to him after such a short time,” Michael said, turning to face Joe. “What I can tell you is your son is with the Lord now and he is happy and free from any pain.”
“You promise?” Joe asked, the tears he’d been trying to hide now freely flowing.
“I swear it.”
“Alright then, let’s get your friend and my wife and take care of Belial once and for all.”
Joe pointed to a two-story home on the corner with a tire swing in the front and Nan’s sister’s car in the driveway.
“Let’s do this,” Joe said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Azriel was getting stronger. Very soon he would be able to leave Mrs. DeFalco and resume his heavenly duties.
They had arrived at her parents’ summer home about an hour ago. She had gone into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee she said “she had to have or she would hurt someone.”
Why would she do that? Azriel considered, completely unable of understanding human sarcasm.
The house was warm and inviting. The furniture was all over-sized and immensely comfortable with tons of throw pillows on every seat. In front of the fireplace, there was an antique oak rocking chair. On the mantel were dozens of picture frames of varying sizes, full of images of happy men, women, and children.
Azriel examined each and every one in hopes he might better understand human emotion, and more specifically, their love for one another.
He picked up a picture of Mrs. DeFalco beaming with joy at the infant she cradled in her arms.
“Please put that down.” Nan had her cup of coffee in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other.
“I’m sorry,” Azriel said. “I did not mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t, Azriel. That picture just makes me sad.” Nan put her cup and the cookies she’d found in the pantry on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“Why?” Azriel asked, genuinely curious.
“I loved my son very much,” Nan said, her voice breaking as she struggled to get out the words. “He passed away about a year after that picture was taken. He was the best thing in my life and now he’s gone.”
“I am sorry,” Azriel said, placing the picture back in the same spot. “You still have your husband, though.”
“My husband left me a long time ago, too,” Nan said with a sigh.
“I do not understand. Do you not live together?” he asked.
“There are many different ways to leave a person,” Nan tried to explain. “My husband made choices in his life that pushed me away and drove a wedge between us.” Nan picked up their wedding picture and tried to remember being that young and carefree.
The day they were married was one of the happiest days of her life. Joe’s father had been dead for a few years, and though his presence was fiercely missed, Joe had not yet let it consume his life, and the joy they both felt over getting married was as close to bliss as she could imagine.
Although they had already slept together many times, they both decided to stay apart the night before their wedding so when they saw each other the next day, it would be a surprise.
She had felt like a true princess in her $800 wedding gown, paid for on time, with tons of lace and a Victorian neckline. She did her own make-up—heavy on the blush because everyone said it would look better in the photographs—and had her hair professionally styled in the neighborhood shop she had used for years. She had dropped fifty pounds—again, for the camera—before the wedding but was still considered on the plump side. Joe always said, “A little extra cushion for the pushing,” and at one time, she thought it was cute.
When she walked down the aisle of the church, his mother and a few of his friends on one side and her family on the other, she started to cry at how handsome he looked and how happy their lives would be.
Planning the ceremony, Father James had asked them if they had any particular bible verses they wanted him to use. Joe was out of his depth in this regard but Nan knew without hesitation which words she wanted to hear on her special day. It was Paul’s letter to the Corinthians:
“If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mys
teries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over
wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails. If there are prophecies, they will be brought to nothing; if tongues, they will cease; if knowledge, it will be brought to nothing. For we know partially and we prophesy partially, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I used to talk as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I put aside childish things. At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known. So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”
Nan had loved this verse ever since she was a child and read it in her weekly catechism class.
She couldn’t think of any words more appropriate to describe how she felt that day.
The reception was a small affair in a mob owned establishment on 18th Avenue. They never even realized their wedding date was the same day as mother’s day that year until the invites were already out. But the size didn’t matter. Everyone who attended had said they had more fun at Joe and Nan’s wedding than any they’d ever been to before.
Because their finances were so tight, they couldn’t even pay the limo drivers and the hall until after they received their monetary gifts from their guests. That night, there would be no money for a honeymoon or fancy hotel suite so they spent their wedding night in a small no-tell motel on Bay Parkway.
It might not have been the most glamorous or expensive wedding anyone had ever seen, but the day culminated in their affirmation of love for one another that she was certain would last forever.