by J Moon
Ida waved a nonchalant hand at her. “It’s no problem.”
Josephine’s smile faded, and in her head she searched for words before talking. “There is another favor I must ask of you though.”
Ida’s face soured as her excitement fizzled. “What is it?”
“Is it possible for you to get a table for a few of my friends?”
Although confused, Ida spoke very fast “A table. Is it for a man? Who is this man? Is he a rich white man?” Ida giggled. “And does he have a friend?”
“No he’s a negro.”
“A negro?” Ida shouted and yanked Josephine closer. “Are you trying to get me fired? This is the Cotton Club. They don’t go handing out tables to blacks willy nilly. If so every dancer, stage hand, and musician would have this place packed with family.”
Josephine was almost to the point of begging. “Please Ida it’s very important.”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you sugar,” Josephine said as she was suddenly bumped someone. She whirled around to come face to face with a jubilant young handsome man.
“I’m sorry Miss,” He said with an innocent drop of his head.
Josephine smiled at his shyness. “Oh it’s no problem.” She said as she raked him over with her eyes. Once examining him closer, she was able to determine she liked his appearance. He was tall with broad shoulders, long arms, a warm smile and smooth brown skin. “What’s your name?”
Ida cackled before she spoke for him. “It’s Rahlo isn’t it?”
Rahlo looked over at Ida. “Yes ma’am it is.”
Ida turned to Josephine. “Everybody knows Rahlo in Harlem.” Then she tapped Rahlo. “What are you doing here?”
“I got hired to help out for the day,” he said with a smile.
Josephine nodded. “Good for you.” She thought for a moment. “Hey, I have friends coming tonight. Do you think you can show them in?”
Rahlo shrugged his shoulder. “Sure I don’t see why not?”
Josephine pulled him in for a hug. “Aww thank you sugar.” Then she pushed him away and continued on with her hands flailing. “It’s four of them. Two men and Two women. One tall dark and good looking. The other man is very light with an awesome smile. Both of the girls are dark skin, one is a sweet young girl, and the other is a more mature sophisticated lady. Please bring them in when you see them.”
Rahlo nodded, “No problem.”
Josephine tapped his shoulder. “Thank you so much.” Then she turned to Ida. “Come on girl I need to go back to your place and grab my things.”
Ida looked taken back. “You don’t want to stay with me no more?”
“No honey, I just have to help this poor girl. I know she don’t have nothing to wear tonight, and I have to help her get dolled up so she can shake her shimmy.” Josephine said as she playfully danced.
Laughter tore through Ida. “Oh Josephine you are a nutter.”
Josephine grabbed Ida by the arm. “Come on let’s blow this joint.”
Around four-thirty that afternoon, the front doors swung wide open. A delivery man came out. Then there was a group of negro women. Benjamin easily spotted Josephine out of the group of girls exiting out of the building. He was told to follow her and remembered seeing her with the archangel last night at the Savoy. Benjamin knew with enough patience she would lead him to the archangel. She started walking, and he kicked in the gear of the car to follow.
Chapter Nineteen
Down below the stage in the darkness of the basement, Owney washed blood off his hands in a chipped ivory bowl held out in front of him. The water instantly turned to a murky red as he wrung his hands clean. A rag was given to him to dry his hands, he took it and dried himself all the way to the cuffs of his rolled up shirt. He took the same towel and dabbed at his forehead, it was splattered with the blood of the man who hung by a hook in front of him.
“Owney, please baby it’s a misunderstanding I swear.”
Owney smacked him with the back of his hand.“Misunderstanding my ass. Did you think you can fuck with me Marvin?” he asked. “Did you think you could take my money and get away with it? Take food out of my family’s mouth…. then think again.”
Red trickled into his mouth as he stammered. “Please don’t kill me. I’ll tell you everything,” he pleaded desperately with his face cracked open.
“Damn right you will, but not before we continue to kick the shit out of you.” Owney looked over to the tall goons standing at the far end of the room. “Get this lousy yellow son of a bitch out of here.”
“What a rat,” French said as he walked across the room.
“Tell me about it.”
French was a tall six foot four proud Italian, with broad shoulders, and a nose as big as his ego. He talked with a real thick macho accent, because he wanted people to fear and respect him, and from his intimidating presence and street rep they did. French took a long pull from his cigar then he blew out hard. “So….. when am I going to meet the big boss?”
Owney looked at him funny. “I am the big boss,” Owney declared.
French took another puff as he shook his head. “Yea but not for the last few months. Ever since this, Mr. Carraway fella has been pulling your strings, you’ve been a little on edge Killer.” He walked around the basement, stepping over the pool of blood left behind Marvin. “And what’s with this whole factory and digging project. It’s not making us any richer. Why are you so invested in it?”
“It’s a particular interest to my partner so don’t worry about it.” Owney declared as he cut his eyes over him.
“Don’t worry about it?” French parroted in a mocking tone.
Owney was getting testy the more French continued to talk. “You know what French you have a big fucking mouth. Watch it before I pump your guts with lead.”
French laughed it off. “I’m just saying.”
Owney waved another man over. “Hey, you clean this up,” he commanded as he stared at the pool of blood. Then he turned pointed at French. “We need more men working at the factory. I need you to get out there and round them up.”
“We got men digging in that field day and night. What’s the rush?”
Owney glanced him over. “Big things French. Big things coming soon.”
Footsteps trailed down the steps of the basement and a thin gypsy looking blond walked over to Owney. “Mr. Carraway, is here to see you?”
Owney’s face soured as fear glittered in his eyes. He hadn’t expected to hear from the demon until later that night. “Bring him down.”
Legion entered the room in an all-white suit, in his human guise.French looked over at Owney who was tense, almost as if he was standing on needles. This was not like his partner at all and was definitely not like the man the streets of New York called the Killer. He could tell that Owney was frightened, and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Mr. Carraway, sir it’s nice to see you,” Owney said in a tone that was fake and transparent. He was trying to hide how nervous he was but he fooled no one in the room, including himself.
Legion held a tense silence as he approached Owney, and his driver followed him like a shadow. “Have you found the seal of ascension yet?”
“No sir, but we are working on it. We are trying to find men right now.”
“Do I need to remind you the importance of this seal?” His voice dropped to a malicious purr.
“No, you don’t.”
Legion placed both hands on his cane as he stared at him. “Good.”
French had seen enough. Never one to bite his tongue, he outed his cigar and proceeded to put Mr. Carraway in his place. “Hey pal, who do you think you’re talking to?”
The demon’s head slowly swiveled from Owney to French, and his driver followed his gaze. A part of him was appalled and the other half amused. Already he could tell he would be killing him, and the other demons in his head began to imagine what they would do to his innards. “You’d better silence y
our servant before I do it for you.”
Owney could tell where this was going, and he wanted to stop it before it got ugly. “Can it, French!”
“Nah Killer, we didn’t get this far by letting cunts like this in white suits boss us around.” French took a threatening step in front of Legion and pointed. “Listen buddy I don’t know who you think you are. Rolling up in our spot giving threats or what not. I’m from Brooklyn we don’t take any of that crap. I’ll have you sleeping with—”
French was cut off as Legion’s right palm rose swiftly, in a motion that could barely be caught by eye, a spear shot out of his hand and lodged right in the middle of French’s throat. On impact, French made a gagging sound as his hands clutched around his neck, but mere seconds later the six foot four man dropped to the floor with a loud thud.
“Jesus Christ!” Owney darted up. In a knee jerk reaction, he grabbed at his waist, for his gun.
In a split second Legion turned to him, with his finger pointed. “Careful Owney, you don’t want to be lying beside him.”
Owney swallowed hard as his forehead burned in nerves, he relaxed as he let his hands fall from his waist. The infamous mobster known in the streets of New York as the Killer, was completely shook.
Legion rested his hands on his cane. “Owney, remind me of what you told me when I first came to you.”
Owney looked at him twice. “That I wanted to be the biggest mob boss New York has ever seen.”
Legion turned away from him and walked to the further side of the room. “And didn’t we help you achieve that?”
Owney swallowed hard. “Yes, you did.”
“Then why aren’t you doing your best to uphold your bargain,” Legion said with a threatening shift in tone. “We require more souls for the League and we need the seal of Detlasar found.”
“It will be handled, I promise you.”
“It had better,” Legion responded with a cold stare. “You know some of us used to be humans. The lesser spirits that we are made of, and then some of us were there in the beginning. We were born in the pit and were there before the light came. The darkness was our world and the Creator created the blinding light so we proceeded further in the pits and bowels of hell. Still to this day, eons later, I can remember how it burned us so. Soon after that we saw them. The fallen angels. We stood in awe of their beauty. Such magnificence and such light that became even more beautiful in the darkness. And that’s what we wanted to be. We wanted to be terrible and beautiful just like the fallen. Separate we weren’t as powerful as the fallen but together we could match that power.”
Legion paused for a moment and made sure he held Owney’s attention. “Still, they didn’t see us, we, the Legion as equals.”
Legion looked up towards the light creeping its way into the basement. “You know in a lot of ways Owney you are like us. We are a collective of many lower level demons who came together to forge one powerful entity. A pity. Still, we are not as revered as the fallen are. Soon that will all change. We shall annihilate SMITE, along with our enemies, and we shall reign supreme.” Legion walked towards him and looked at him in comradery.
Owney straightened his tie. “Amen.”
Legion took two steps towards the stairs and then peered over. “You had better find that seal. Because failure is not an option.”
Chapter Twenty
Death was a trait of humanity. When a man dies his flesh goes cold, and his soul is sent to an eternity in Heaven or an eternity in damnation. The angels knew no concept of death because they were not flesh. They were entities that reflected the will of the Creator, and formed to protect his most valuable creations, mankind.
For over a millennium, the archangels fought valiantly fearing only one thing, disobeying the Creator and being cast off into the pit with the fallen. This all changed in 452 B.C. when Hellfire was created, and used by the demons to kill archangels. Jophiel had fallen to hellfire poisoning.
When Gabe asked what happened to the angels when they die, the Dominions told him nothing, because it was the truth. The archangels were not flesh nor did they possess souls, so when defeated in battle they fade to nothingness.
To Gabriel, laying on the couch, bathed in sweat with his face to the setting sun, there was something poignant, and ephemeral about it all.
It reminded him almost too vividly of his creation. At the mere thought of the Creator, he and his brothers formed out of swirling light. It was a glorious memory that happened eons ago.
Ascension was not an option for Gabriel. He knew like all other angels stricken with hellfire, he would be cast into the pit, in fear that the disease would spread across the others.
Now more than ever he missed home.
He missed the eternal joy and contentment that came with being near the Creator. This was why the angels only spent few moments on Earth. The longer they stayed on Earth, the more likely confusion and human emotions plagued them. To possess the feelings of sadness and doubt were to become tainted. No wonder the humans felt so lost and so confused. He could only imagine what it must be like in the pit, to be absolutely cut off from the light of the Creator.
Gabe turned his head wearily away.
How soon could he die, he wondered to himself as his head throbbed and his body ached all over? Was there any way he could hasten death?
He was holding the smartwatch in his hand, trembling, and with a gasp he let it go. The thump it made, the sour note that followed once it fell to the floor, was enough to drive the archangel to madness.
A rush of cold seemed to enter not only the room but also Gabe’s bones. He could sense his light dying as his essence continued to spill out.
On one mission in Italy around the 1800s, Gabe recalls going into a warehouse one night and leaving one of SMITE’s first bomb. He then strolled over to a small cafe about a mile away and watched brillant flames dance above the horizon of rooftops, and consume everything around it.
The men and women there were on his list to suffer the wrath of the Creator, to be smited. Then in that moment, he thought about it, death. All of those lives taken. It was all there in front of him, his creation, and his missions spread out before him to review it all.
Now he can identify with the humans as he stared death in its face and awaited its kiss. His long time on Earth had awoken so many emotions and feelings. Gabe pulled his shoulders out their slouch and slammed the mawkish memories back into their long-closed file. The horror of it was like an unclean spirit wanting to leap out of his throat.
Gabe looked to the window and noticed darkness eating away at the warm light of day, the sun was all but gone. Already he could sense the long dusk of night that was approaching.
For a slight second the archangel gave into the despair of hopelessness, then he thought to himself that surely the Creator would strengthen him to see this mission through. From the right, he heard footsteps softly shuffle into the room.
Zora looked over at the archangel, and he looked so pitiful in her eyes. His glorious coffee-colored skin tone had become ashen, sweat covered his forehead, deep circles had formed around his eye sockets, and his usual glowing demeanor was all but dim.
“It’s going to be alright Gabriel. We will take care of you.” Zora reassured as she brought a fresh rag for his forehead.
Gabe caressed her hand. “I know Zora,” he said before swallowing hard. The archangel took a deep breath before he spoke again. “I have faith,” he said with his usual dazzling smile spread across his face.
To the left of the apartment, the door swung open and in walked Nia, Langston and Dr. Miracle.
“Where is he?” Shouted Dr. Miracle
“Right here doc,” Langston said as he escorted the older gentleman to the couch.
For a moment, Langston stared at the archangel in disbelief. In the time they had been away the archangel had gone from bad to worse. The sight of such a deathly looking appearance made him shudder. Without a shadow of a doubt, the poet could tell that death had ki
ssed the archangel, and he didn’t have any time left at all.
Gabe looked at the gentlemen who came to his side. He smiled again painfully, “Doctor Miracle I presume?”
Dr. Miracle placed his bag on a nightstand and shook Gabe’s hand. “Yes sir and you must be the archangel.”
Gabe grinned. “That I am. Nice to meet you buddy.”
Nia kneeled to the archangel, who was trying his best not to lose his confident smile. “Just hold on Gabe. We are going to do our best to heal you.” She promised as she cracked a smile. “Besides, if you die…. how am I going to get back home?”
Gabe laughed. It was a hearty laugh that soon turned into coughs and choking as the essence spilled out of his mouth. “Ms. Carter you are something else. Ya hear? Something else.”
Zora stood over Dr. Miracle, “Doc I need you to get on with this cure. I’ve been with him all day, and he ain’t got too long before the good Lord calls him back home.” Zora’s eyes were as sharp as a switchblade. By the way she glared at him with her arms folded, Dr. Miracle could tell she meant business. “And I won’t let it be on my conscience that I let one of God’s best creations die on my watch ya hear?”
Dr. Miracle nodded, “Ah yes,” He said as he pulled open the text out of his bag and mixed herbs. He was combing herbs and roots when he pulled out one special glowing root.
Langston’s eyes grew large. He leaned in further, “Fascinating doctor what is it?”
“Balm of Gilead root. Straight from Jerusalem,” He said as he glared over to Langston. “And this archangel better be as powerful as you say because this is my last one.”
Nia looked over to Langston who had uncertainty written all over his face. “Trust me, he is.”
Zora leaned over in Nia’s ear, “What is he talking about?”
“He wants the archangel to bless him?” She muttered back.
Zora cast a sideways glance at both Nia and Langston. “And you promised him that?” she snapped.
Dr. Miracle looked up from his mixing, “Pardon me?”