Angel Eyes

by Al K. Line

  What to do?

  "Wait here," I said, then walked casually into the house like everything was fine.

  I emerged with a bottle of whiskey hidden in Harry's jacket then spoke loudly, feeling stupid but knowing this was best just in case the neighbors were watching. Were they, or was I right in thinking all this had happened without anyone seeing a thing?

  "Fine, have another one, and here's your jacket, but you have to have it inside." I waved the bottle around, pretending like he'd gone off the rails because he was drunk. Booze can explain all manner of odd behavior, and the one thing I knew about these prim and proper suburban people was that most of them were pissed most nights to make it through to the next day without losing their marbles entirely.

  I manhandled Harry into a sitting position then slipped his jacket over him, no easy thing, resorting to a touch of magic to lighten the load. Then I said to Vicky, "We have to get him inside, just pretend like he's drunk. Can you hear me, Vicky? We have to do this now or the cops will be here. Do you want to go to prison, lose your kids?" I would never let that happen, but she didn't know that.

  Vicky's head snapped around and she blinked herself back to reality. "Oh my God. What have I done? They'll lock me up and I'll never see my girls again."

  "Ssh, quiet. Harry's just drunk and being stupid. Hold the bottle in his hand and act like he's drunk and help me get him inside the house. Stay calm. But hurry, the girls are in the car."

  Vicky nodded. We grabbed him under the arms as I sent not inconsiderable magic down into the ground, acting as a cushion of air that buoyed Harry's gross, three hundred pound plus frame like it weighed nothing. It worked quite well, as it was hard as hell to control this cushion as we moved him with his arms slung over our shoulders, and he genuinely did look drunk. Vicky held the bottle in his hands and I even managed to control his arm enough to make it look like he was swigging from it. Somehow we got him inside.

  We dropped him on the sofa and then I guided Vicky out the door and closed it behind us, all the while trying to think how to handle this and stop Vicky panicking about ending up behind bars and her girls in foster care. I couldn't tell her I'd take the blame, she wouldn't agree and would blurt something stupid if the police arrived.

  I walked Vicky like a zombie to the car and made sure she was buckled in. A spark of intelligence returning to my addled mind, I stepped away and made a call.

  "Cleaner," came the familiar voice.

  "It's The Hat. There's a body. It needs moving, and the car too. Make it an accident. Neighbors might have seen. Can you handle it? It's Vicky's husband."

  There was a moment's silence then she snapped, "I'm the Cleaner."

  "Great. Payment in the morning, I'm a little busy now."

  She hung up. One thing the Cleaner wasn't was a conversationalist. Vicky got on with her, even had a few chats, but Vicky could make a stone talk, so I didn't feel too bad about it.

  I tried to think if there was anything else I needed to do, but was confident the Cleaner would cover this. Sure, it was gonna be a hell of a mess, but nobody had called the police so either our dodgy drunken ruse had worked or nobody had heard or seen a thing and I was being overly cautious.

  Either way, the Cleaner would arrive and do what needed to be done. She'd pay a visit to every house where somebody may have been able to see, and she'd wipe the memory from them, if they had any.

  I'd used her services any number of times, and it went beyond cleaning crime scenes and replacing broken furniture. She worked for magic users and was one herself, an enigma. Nobody knew a thing about her, but she was a professional, and we needed that.

  There was going to be a terrible aftermath for Vicky to deal with either way, a missing persons report to file, the tears and recriminations once Harry was found, but it beat going to prison. Plus, she had me, and George, and Sasha, but most importantly she had her girls, and that was all that mattered now.

  I got in the car and drove away. Nobody said a word.

  Sleepy Kids

  The girls were exhausted, we all were, but Vicky and I were also wired. I told her about the Cleaner and she relaxed a little, her immediate panic over with, but then the realization of what she'd done hit and with it the knowledge that her life, and her children's, would never, could never, be the same again. She had no husband, they had no father, and that changed everything. It shook her world to its very foundations.

  She had, shall we say, a moment.

  The girls were fast asleep within minutes, and Vicky wept quietly, but hard, beside me. All her life she'd striven to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, dressing a certain way to fit in with the other women, keeping a tidy house, striving to conform and do what all the other middle class families did.

  But it was a pretense. Vicky craved excitement and danger and had been confined to her basement to live out her fantasies, hacking into networks and trawling the dark web for kicks, and then she met me. And now she'd killed her husband. I didn't ask about what had happened in the past, she'd tell me when she was ready, but part of me still couldn't believe it, that Harry had ever been a violent man.

  From what I'd known of him, and it wasn't much, he was an insecure, cowardly man. But then, all abusers were. They preyed on those weaker than themselves, took out their frustrations on their family, and he'd obviously been no exception.

  Now the fucker was dead. Good riddance.

  We made it to my city house without incident, which I thought was some kind of miracle. There was still the matter of the angel, the book, plus Cerberus lurking in the background somewhere, so the night was far from over. But there were priorities, and the most important thing was the well-being of Vicky's children.

  We carried them inside and put them on the sofa. They woke for a moment but Vicky explained where we were and within a few minutes they settled back down. The poor things were utterly fried from the madness and confusion over how adults behaved, aren't we all, and soon were snuggled under blankets, snoring as they dreamed the dreams of the truly innocent.

  I locked the kitchen door and pocketed the key, as the last thing I wanted was them wandering about and frying their brains by trying to go through the portal, then I took Vicky into the rear garden and lit up a dead man's cigarette.

  It tasted divine.

  I dragged like my life depended on it, pulling nicotine deep down into my lungs, and I held it there until my lungs burned. Then I exhaled, like I could blow away all my troubles, Vicky's too, and somehow make things right for us all. But I couldn't, so I smoked and said nothing, because I honestly didn't know what to say. Light spilled out from the kitchen window, sending long shadows down the lawn. I watched a hedgehog snuffle about on the grass, stopping now and then to scoff down a slug. It stared at us for a moment, then dismissed us and went on its way, disappearing into bushes at the border of the property. Still Vicky and I were silent.

  "Stay with me for a few days, but you'll have to report Harry as missing. I'll come with you."

  "No, I'll be fine. I'll do it tomorrow. I won't have to pretend to be concerned. I'm so sad, Arthur, but I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry."

  I squeezed Vicky tight and her tiny body racked with sobs as she cried her little heart out. She shook and she buried her head in my chest and cried and cried for all the terrible things in the world. For a life lost, for her own life wasted on that man, for her love for him and for her shame for loving such a man. Mostly she cried for her kids.

  My phone beeped, it was George. I messaged her back and moments later she appeared around the back, coming through the side gate and down the strip of lawn that ran along this boring semi-detached house. I peeled Vicky off me and said, "Be right back," then went to talk to George.

  I filled her in on what had happened, leaving nothing out since we'd left her and Sasha, and she took it well. Not surprising really, as our world was full of this kind of madness. But she was as shocked as I was to find out about Harry, about the man he truly was. Her only conc
ern was for Vicky and the children.

  "Can you watch them?"

  "Sure. And you're okay? The angel isn't around, is it?"

  "I bloody hope not. I've got enough on my plate. But I want this book gone. I need to give it to the vamps. And quick. I can't be having anything dangerous around with the girls here. If anything, and I mean anything, happens, then call me, and Sasha, and just stay put. If you have to, use the portal to come back here, but that's a last resort. Not sure how we'd explain that to the girls. Actually, come on, let's go inside."

  George raised an eyebrow but followed me around to the back. She hugged Vicky who was still crying then I left them while I sorted a few things out. I made several trips from the car to the house and took the luggage through the portal and loaded it into the vehicle in the barn, then went out back and told them my plan.

  George nodded approval, Vicky just went along with whatever I said. Back inside, George and I each lifted a small sleeping figure carefully in our arms and then we all went through the portal. George would drive everyone back to the house where it was a little safer, well away from the city and its dangers. Sure, the angel could go anywhere, but if I returned to the city it would follow me there, if it was following me. And somehow I just knew there was plenty of other crap sure to make what was already a terrible night even worse.

  "Look after them," I said to George. She nodded, then got in the car.

  I hugged Vicky and whispered into her ear, "Everything will be all right. You're safe, the girls are safe, that's all that matters."

  "Thank you."

  I led her to the car, made sure she was buckled in, then opened the barn doors. George drove off, I locked up, then I sat on a straw bale and I cried.

  I felt such an overriding sense of sadness and helplessness, and the tears came freely. Those poor fucking kids.

  A Plan

  My head shot up and I quickly wiped my eyes as the barn door rattled. I sensed nothing malevolent, but I did sense something small and annoying. With a sigh, I got up and unlocked the doors.

  "Vicky?"

  "I hoped you'd still be here. Have you been crying?"

  "Yes." I stared at her, finding it hard to reconcile this woman with the one I knew when we were out working. Here she was, face cleaned up, hair brushed and pulled back into the familiar ponytail, new striped sweater on, looking like a kid's sweetie, boring jeans, and supermarket sneakers. Yet she was a killer, a murderer of bad guys. Fearless, smart, sassy, and utterly fragile.

  "Oh. I expected you to say you had something in your eye."

  "Real men cry. And they aren't afraid to admit it."

  "Er, right. So, um, what's the plan?"

  "Vicky, I'm sorry, but I can't get my head around this. Why are you here? Why aren't you with the girls? Why aren't you climbing the bloody walls?"

  "I will be if I stay at the house. My mind won't stop, I'm a bag of nerves. I have to do something. I won't sleep tonight, not with all that's happened, with everything I have to do. What am I going to do?"

  I thought for a moment, wondered if I should turn her away, send her back to the house, but this was probably for the best. "What you're going to do is come with me to see your brother. We give him the book, and I still haven't told you what happened earlier with him, and then we'll figure out properly what you and the girls will do. Okay?"

  "Okay. So, what did happen with Ivan? You still have the book so I guess it didn't go according to plan?"

  And just like that we were back being a team of thieves, or one thief, one annoying sidekick. I told Vicky what had happened, about the crap I'd had to deal with, and she listened, only interrupting a few times.

  "He's protecting the vampires. Didn't want to take the book with the angel after it like that."

  "That's not a reason. If Mikalus wants this book then he knows he'll have to deal with the angel too. He would have known it all along."

  "Yes, he would. Or... yes, that's probably it."

  "What? What are you on about?"

  "It's obvious, isn't it? If Mikalus knew the angel would be after the book, then Ivan knows too, so..."

  "So they expect me to deal with it, then hand over the book once there's no risk to them."

  "Exactly."

  "Fucking vampires."

  "Hey, he's family."

  "Yeah, and he owes us one. Come on, we need to go see him. He can help sort this out about, er, Harry."

  "Bit late to remember his name now," muttered Vicky, but she didn't break down and start crying, she just followed me into the back of the barn and we stepped through the gate, yet again, to the city.

  A Walk

  Back in the city, I needed a little time to get accustomed to the latest madness. I suggested we go for a wander. Vicky seemed to think it was a good idea too, so we stepped out into the cool night air and walked the streets. Suburbia was a strange place, it felt so nice and gentle, so above-board and wholesome, but we both knew that wasn't the case. That behind the facades of conformity and mass consumerism, the smart lawns, the polished cars, and the colorful hanging baskets, everyone had their own personal demons to fight. Nobody escaped life. Everyone was screwed up.

  We walked with a purpose that had no purpose, just us and the cats prowling through the night, the occasional car driving past. The streetlights all worked, casting their sickly yellow glow onto us as we passed beneath, there was no trash, no graffiti, even the trees seemed healthy and happy. All fake, a pretense. Life wasn't like this, the minds of the people that maintained this part of the city weren't like this, and neither were its occupants. Still, it was quiet, nobody tried to mug us, so it was all good.

  My mind turned to Cerberus. That was one hell of a mess that was sure to get worse. I regretted Nathan's demise, his replacement sure as shit was no better, and I got the feeling would be a lot worse, but we'd see. I could handle them. Maybe.

  I wondered what kind of conversations were going on at their headquarters, what the plan was now Vicky and I knew about the warehouse. I'd always suspected something epic, that over the millennia this secret organization must have amassed a veritable hoard of goodies, but the scale of it was beyond belief.

  Would this mean they'd want us gone, and make sure they got what they wanted? Or would they just keep trying to bring me into the fold? Time enough to worry about that tomorrow, for now I had to focus on getting this exchange made then helping Vicky out. I hated to admit it to myself, but part of me resented Vicky for getting me involved in her personal life to such a degree.

  I didn't need the hassle, I really didn't. Now I had her and her kids at my place. How long would they stay? Would the girls mess up my kitchen? Of course they would, they were children. Then I felt bad for thinking such thoughts. She was my friend, however annoying she was, and I truly loved her, would do anything for her. But why the hell had she done such a thing? She could have just left him, surely?

  Nope, it didn't work like that. Life's never clean and tidy, never simple. She'd been pushed to the edge and rather than fall over she'd fought back in the only way she knew how, making certain once and for all that her family was safe. Now he'd never hurt her, or scare the girls, and she could pick up the pieces and move on. It wouldn't be a fun few weeks or months, that was for sure, as however well she was keeping it together at the moment, she was gonna crash and crash hard once this was over.

  On we walked, and then we walked some more. The further we went, the more we got into our stride, keeping up a brisk pace, me having to go fairly slow, Vicky chugging along like a miniature steam train. But it blew away the worst of the nightmares, left us panting and rosy cheeked, and we inhaled the cleaner night air, pollution at an all time low. I felt energized and hyped, Vicky looked the same, but I knew it wouldn't last, that as soon as we stopped, when we collapsed at some point, everything that had happened would come back to her, causing one hell of a meltdown. It would be epic, it would involve a lot of tears, and it would probably involve degrees of wailing and screa
ming hitherto unheard of. Joy. Couldn't wait.

  So I picked up the pace and we found ourselves at the large park the respectable citizens stayed away from at night time. But we weren't respectable, and we weren't citizens. We were gangsters, murderers. We consorted with the scum of the earth and the supernatural entities of the heavens, so we strode in, unconcerned by the dark and the bushes where men could jump us to try to do despicable things.

  Ha, let them try. They'd picked the wrong night to try anything on. Part of me almost wanted something like that to happen, for us to be attacked, just so I could unburden myself of the pent-up anger and frustration I felt with pretty much the whole world right now. I knew it was just a sadness, a bone-aching depression waiting to take hold of me. It needed an outlet.

  Everything in my world was a lie now. The one thing I thought I could rely on, that gave me hope, was that there were still happy families out there. Sure, I knew Vicky and hubby had issues, and often it seemed like a loveless marriage, but they did right by their kids. All that hope was gone now. He was an abuser and she had killed him. Everything was fucked up, nothing good was left.

  My mood was darker than the water of the boating lake as we stood on a small wooden platform, one of many dotted around its edge where fisherman could sit and dangle wire into the water and have a day of peace and quiet as they contemplated their life and caught fish only to throw them back in so they could take their chances then get reeled back in another day. A merry-go-round of freedom and captivity, of gasping for air and then release, only for the inevitable to happen one day and for it to all be over. Just like my life.

  I lit up another of Harry's cigarettes, feeling guilty as I knew George would be cross, but I sucked down the smoke then exhaled a cloud over the misty water.

  An owl hooted, Vicky cried, and I scowled at life then gave it the finger.