by Eve Langlais
“I’m a whore, remember? My sister is, too, and a polygamist. Which personally, to me, is more like a lucky girl. I used to think I’d be the one to settle down with a football team, and yet there is only one man who makes my heart beat faster.”
“That’s a good thing?” Helen asked, because a quickening heart could mean a health issue. While rare, angels did still have some mishaps.
“Love should make your heart pitter patter, your panties wet, and make you feel as if you’re dying every minute you spend apart.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“I am not sinning.”
“You say that now, but…” Bambi winked. “Just you wait. Once you meet the one, it’s all over.”
For some reason she thought of Julio and his dark gaze.
“You look like you could use a drink. What do you say we go back to my place?”
Go somewhere with the devil’s progeny? Helen wanted to say no; however, here was someone who could give her answers. Could it be as simple as asking? “Do you know how angel babies are made?”
Bambi coughed. “Yeah, but let’s not discuss that on the street.” Bambi swirled her hand, and a dark space cut the air in front of them. “Shortcut to my condo. Follow me.”
Helen only hesitated a second. She didn’t really want to be alone.
She exited the strange portal to find herself in front of a door in a hall lit by wall sconces.
“Welcome to my home.” Bambi opened the portal.
Upon entering, Helen noticed it was probably a thousand times the size of her room in Heaven and luxurious to the point it surely constituted a sin. Carpet underfoot, plush and squishy. Furniture that had cushions to cradle the body.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the long fabric-covered thing that reminded her of a partially enclosed bed.
“A couch. It’s for sitting.”
“Really?”
“Try it.”
Helen sank onto it and sighed. “This is very comfortable.” Surely this kind of luxury was against the rules.
“You’ve never sat on a couch?”
Helen shook her head and ran her hand over the cushions. “I’ve only ever seen a fabric-covered chair in the Archnanny’s office.” But that was for Rafaella, not the nannies. Usually when called in front of the Archnanny, it was for rebuke and they weren’t offered comfort.
“If you think that’s fancy, wait until you see your bedroom.”
“You have more than one room in your home?” This large space had more space?
“Yes. Four bedrooms and a few bathrooms as well so we don’t have to share.”
“What’s a bathroom?” While she did have some basic knowledge, like the fact humans used cars instead of horse-drawn carriages, she didn’t know how they lived.
“Oh boy, this is going to be interesting. Because now that you’re here on Earth, things will be different for you.”
“It’s not what I expected at all. It’s nothing like Heaven.”
“What is Heaven like?” Bambi asked.
“It’s the most perfect place.”
“Why?”
What an odd question. “Everyone knows it is.”
“And again, why? What makes it so desirable?” Bambi insisted, and Helen struggled to remember what she’d learned in class.
“It’s not Hell for one. It’s always sunny. Never rains. Never snows. Never gets too cold or hot. Everyone has a place to live. A job to do. We always have a meal that is balanced to our needs. Prayer. And the love of our Father, who art our shepherd in Heaven.”
“Sounds more like you’re mindless peons for the dictator known as Elyon.”
Helen’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s not what I said.”
“Then maybe you should examine your words. Do you get to do what you want? Did you have a say in your job? Your life?”
“We are assigned our role. Everyone does their part. As our Father—who is wise in Heaven—says, ‘we are all in this together.’”
Bambi snorted. “Fuck me, I wondered where that expression came from. Should have known. And no, you angels are not all in it together. You’re chattel.”
“You work for your Father,” Helen pointed out.
“I do, but I can also tell him to go screw a hairy hog if I don’t want to do something. I run the risk of being smote, but dear Daddy doesn’t like it when we’re obedient all the time.”
“Obedience is next to our Father, who is the most hallowed of his name.”
Bambi blinked. “What the fuck? Do you say something dumb like that every time you say Father?”
“It’s not dumb,” Helen defended. “We honor him.”
“Really?” Bambi’s expression turned sly. “Rumor has it he’s being held prisoner by Charlie. How’s that being honorable?”
“Our Father, who is on a sabbatical, is recovering.”
“From launching a war that he lost before it even started.”
“Was there really a battle?” In the nursery, items of news were few and far between. No corrupting the nannies after all.
“More like Elyon crashed my niece’s birthday party and a bunch of cake and fists were tossed. Muriel had a tantrum because they ruined Lucinda’s day, my daddy, who is rancid after eating spicy foods, had to be restrained, especially after your Father, who is an idiot in Heaven, talked smack about Gaia.”
“Who is Gaia?”
“Mother Earth.”
“Earth is her child?” That made no sense.
“I see we’ll need to start from the beginning.”
“Do you mean when my Father, may he forever be blessed, created the world?”
“It starts before that actually, with a big bang.”
And Helen got a second version of creation, a story so incredible she wouldn’t believe it.
Couldn’t.
Because if she did, then it meant Heaven, and all its rules, was a lie.
11
I can’t believe they left me in charge.
The commander had taken off and left Julio responsible for the company. Piece of upside-down pineapple cake. All he had to do was ensure everybody showed up and did their jobs.
However, no one left instructions on what to do when Helen—the virgin! —walked in and caught him with his feet up on the desk. Wearing white slacks, a white blouse, with white shoes and an off-white blazer, she entered, chewing her lower lip.
“You’re back. How can I help you?”
She clasped her hands in front of her and kept her eyes downcast. He almost had to strain to hear her soft, “I need to find out how angel babies are made.”
“Sure. Shall we have the demonstration on the desk or in a bed?”
Her lips pursed. “I was not asking for fornication.”
“Um, a little confused, because how do you think babies are made?”
“Sex might make human babies, but angels are different.”
“Says who?”
“Me.”
“And who else?”
“Everyone in Heaven.”
“It’s a lie.”
“Really? Then explain why there are no pregnant angels in Heaven.” She had a ready argument.
He almost felt bad for her, knowing what he did. “That’s because Elyon’s got the females on birth control.”
“He does not! You’re as bad as Bambi,” she exclaimed.
“You’ve spoken with Bambi?”
“She spent the last few days teaching me about your world and trying to convince me that Heaven is a lie.”
And not succeeding, apparently, since Curls was standing in front of him with her cheeks pink.
“Hate to break it to you, but Heaven is all kinds of false.” He took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “Do you know why there are no pregnant angels in Heaven? It’s because Elyon rendered the females sterile.”
“Our Father, who—" Helen halted and snapped, “He wouldn�
�t do that. Our babies are created by our Father, who is the creator in Heaven, and delivered by storks not…between the…from the…” She turned red as she gestured and stammered.
“Is this your way of saying you don’t think angel babies are shoved out vaginas?”
Her cheeks were so hot he might have been able to fry bacon on them. “I’m not that naïve. A baby would never fit out of there.”
“I’ll admit, it’s shocking, but true. Let me know if you’d like to see a live birth. I’m sure we can find someone who won’t mind an audience.” Helen appeared speechless, and he grinned. “Keep your mouth open like that and—” He almost said something dirty about having the perfect thing for it but amended it to, “you’ll catch flies.”
It snapped shut before she muttered, “You are so annoying. I should have stuck with Bambi as a teacher.”
“Please do. I’m sure it won’t be long before she’s teaching you how to wear fewer clothes. Maybe show off your tits. Teach you how to smile.” He added a leer to his suggestions, knowing they were misogynistic as fuck, but her huffing and puffing embarrassment amused. Not to mention, she should learn to handle dirty talk with someone safe before she met a prick who knocked her off balance.
Chin tilted, she sassed, “I will not be removing my clothes. Nudity leads to sin.”
“Yes, it does.” He winked. “Babies, too.”
“According to the devil’s helpers.”
“Really? Let me ask you, where do you think baby angels come from? Because the stork obviously gets them from somewhere.”
Her shoulders rolled. “I don’t know. Perhaps they are born of a seed in the bole of a magical tree.”
He snorted. “Now you’re pushing it and being overly stubborn. Angels are born the same way as humans.”
“And how is that possible? After all, didn’t you say angels are sterile?” She threw back his claim, not knowing all the facts.
“Females are, but male angels aren’t. Heaven relies on cross breeding, Curls. Apparently, angels and humans are compatible when it comes to making babies. Says so right here in my book.”
He reached into the desk and pulled out a massive tome that showed its age with the worn leather, previously worn by an animal that probably never walked the Earth. The office used it to ensure proper compatibility when setting up the visiting demons with possible baby mamas and dadas.
“What is that?” she asked, nearing in fascination.
“The Hellacious Book of Demonic Beasts.”
She recoiled.
“Ignore the grand title. It’s an encyclopedia of beings. It’s got entries on every single living creature, including angels.”
“Someone wrote about us?” She couldn’t hide her curious note.
“Curls, there are hundreds, thousands of stories about angels, most of them garbage, I should add. But this…this is what we call non-fiction. Researched and peer reviewed.” He slapped his hand on the cover, repeating the words he’d memorized when he’d visited Chad in archives, looking for information on angels.
He flipped open the book, which wasn’t exactly alphabetical, given it was constantly being added to. At least this version had a magical auto update and an index.
“Angels. Page three thousand and forty-three.” He opened the book wide at random and, as per the magic, landed on the right page. He scrolled to the correct section and zoomed it. “Shall I read it?”
“No. I can do that myself.”
It wasn’t a very long passage. It stated male angels could procreate, and with humans only. Acceptable progeny would be delivered to Heaven. Those lacking wings remained on Earth. Along with the info, there was also a warning. Absolutely no fornication with any denizens of Hell. Punishable by death. Permanent death, as in don’t stop at Hell or linger in Limbo. Right into the pit of perdition for recycling.
Harsh.
She recoiled. “That can’t be true.”
“It’s right there in print.”
She flattened her lips. “And I’m saying it’s impossible. What your book claims would require thousands of angels and our Father, who art silent in Heaven, being complicit.”
“Yup. It’s a massive conspiracy. But you can change that.”
“Me?”
“What if you were to bring the truth to Heaven?”
She bit her lip. “Who would listen? I am still struggling to believe.”
“How about if I could show you proof?”
“What kind of proof?” she asked.
The kind that would start the revolution the devil hoped for.
12
Julio offered to show her proof that angels consorted with humans to make babies. Surely it was a lie. A mistake.
Although she no longer doubted that some angels sinned and fornicated. She’d seen Michelina disobeying and had been on Earth long enough to realize sex was a popular thing to do.
But his claim about cherubs being made the same way as animals?
Devastating if true because it would mean yet another lie in a chain of them. Such as the one claiming Earth was a dirty, sinful place and Heaven the good. For all that she’d had to learn and overcome culture wise, the last few days had been the most interesting of her life.
The sights. The sounds. The people.
She’d met more than a few because Bambi insisted on dragging her around when she showed up at random times during the day. She’d ordered Helen to stop watching television—the most annoying demand coming right in the middle of a show called The Witcher where a fellow with white hair showed off his impressive sword skills. Helen couldn’t have said why she found it riveting, yet there was something about the strong and dexterous man that drew her eye.
She’d looked away when the violence and carnal stuff happened on the screen. At least she did the first day. By the second, she had learned to use the ten-seconds back button, rewinding the things that fascinated or demanded more study.
It appeared humanity didn’t just indulge in fornication; they reveled in it. Enjoyed sex. Watching it on screen left her feeling…odd. Tingly. Ashamed. It also had her thinking of Julio and feeling even more tingly.
What did it mean? She didn’t dare ask even as Bambi seemed determined to teach.
Bambi said she couldn’t learn everything by staying inside watching television. She made Helen wear pants—shocking!—and brought her into the world to explore. She introduced Helen to a chip truck, a vendor on the street who, for the tap of card, would provide flavorful sustenance. A bacon poutine, Bambi called it.
One bite and Helen inhaled the rest. She’d never imagined food could taste so incredible. And she didn’t see the sin in it. No one got hurt. On the contrary, everyone was pleased by the transaction.
Poutine was only the start of the flavors she tested. In a cold box, called a fridge, there were jars and containers of food with tastes so varied she couldn’t stop trying them and ended up on the floor, stomach distended, groaning. Her gluttony was punished by her hugging something cold and hard. Bambi blasphemed and called it the porcelain god.
Whatever it was, she donated copious amounts of puke to it. But worse was what came out of her bottom.
It turned out on Earth it wasn’t just the animals who defecated.
As she lay groaning in bed, vowing to never eat again, she wished she’d never left heaven.
By the time she woke the next morning, she felt better, especially once she looked outside. No blue skies today. Water fell instead.
Rain.
Helen stood on the balcony, head tilted back, feeling it hit her skin in cold droplets. A day without sunshine, how refreshing. It made her curious about snow and storms and so much more.
“Are you done getting wet?” Bambi had hollered from inside. “Because I’ve got to leave, but before I do, I want to show you how to use the internet.”
She taught Helen the basics of a mighty machine called the internet. It was so easy to get information. All Helen had to do was say, “Okay bitch-tits,
find me—” fill in the blank. A little black box by the television would then reply and show the result on the screen. The thing called internet acted like a giant repository of information, smart enough to pull up anything Helen asked—which turned out to be a copious amount about angels.
It placed images of angels with big fluffy wings, robes, and haloes on the television for her to ogle.
“How is this possible?” she muttered. Humans weren’t supposed to see angels. Only others of her kind should be able to see her wings, although it seemed those from Hell could see them, too.
Yet the pictures revealed humanity knew about angels, proved they interacted. More research showed there were enough stories to muddle any truth.
She discovered books about forbidden romances between angels and humans. Angels and demons. Movies featuring angels. Television shows.
How to separate truth from lie?
Currently, she relied on the devil’s daughter to feed her information. However, Helen had more questions and wondered if the answers would change if she talked to someone else. Hence why she ended up making her way to the offices of Grim Dating to speak with the reaper who’d been on her mind since the moment they met. A man who said he could show her proof that Heaven was a lie.
Julio snapped his fingers. “Curls, I asked you a question. Do you want me to show you where babies come from or not?”
She did and didn’t, which was why she admitted, “Is it odd that I do and don’t?”
“I’d say that’s a normal reaction to having your perception of the world turned upside down. Would it help if I said I’ll be beside you the whole time?”
Actually, it did help. “What kind of proof do you have?”
“Come with me to find out.” He rose and reminded her of his height. As he moved, she caught glimpses of his cloak, a living black fog that undulated at his back.
Exiting the building that she’d travelled to via something called a taxi, he insisted on driving. It meant being in close proximity with him in his truck, the kind that had a box in the back to carry things. The enclosed cab meant his scent was everywhere, as was his cloak, swirling and teasing around her.