by A. J. Norris
Won’t be needing those.
In fact, she’d yet to have a period since her death and becoming a Redeemer angel, part of the reason she hadn’t even considered pregnancy as a possibility. Above the condoms, lined up on the top shelf were the tests. Early detection, digital, whatever. She grabbed a pink and white box and held the life changer tightly to her body. Her knuckles turned white. Breathing through her nose didn’t bring enough oxygen into her lungs. She gasped and blew air out in short bursts. The aisle got longer the more steps she took toward the checkout.
Amalya placed the test face down on the counter. “Will this be all?” the gray-haired woman behind the counter asked.
She nodded.
Yeah, I know, I’m too young.
“What was that?”
Had she said that aloud? “I didn’t say anything.”
“My mistake. I thought you said something.”
Amalya shook her head and handed the clerk a twenty. The change and the test were stuffed into a white plastic bag and handed to her. She left the register area without looking up. The door chimed. And in walked Hazel.
Ohfortheloveofgod.
Of all the times to run into her niece, this was a particularly bad one. She turned around and tried to run. Teleporting in front of surveillance cameras was a terrible idea.
Hazel called behind her. “Amalya, wait…where are you going?”
Anywhere but here.
She stopped mid-aisle, took a deep breath, and faced her niece. “Nowhere, I guess. We have to stop meeting like this. You’re following me, aren’t you?”
“Is that so wrong?”
She grasped Hazel’s wrist and dragged her out of the store. Her niece wrenched out of Amalya’s hold. “My mother thinks I’m crazy. The shrink she took me to agrees with her. She’s ready to have me committed.”
Amalya rubbed her forehead. “Mule.”
“Yeah, well, at least we agree on something.”
“What about your dad? What does he think of your crazy angel sightings?”
“I’m currently not speaking to him.”
Amalya wanted to ask why but forced herself to keep quiet. She looked at Hazel expressionlessly instead. Her sister’s daughter eyed the bag. “Whatcha got?”
Nosy much?
Okay, that wasn’t fair. In truth, Amalya needed to talk to someone other than an angel. “Is your roommate home?”
“No, she moved out to marry some jerk. Why?”
***
When they arrived at Hazel’s building, Amalya skipped the posh lobby and poofed directly to her loft. She paced the hardwood floor and waited for her niece to join her.
“There’s a good chance I’m pregnant,” Amalya blurted. She tossed the bag with the pregnancy test to Hazel.
Hazel’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, my God. That’s awesome.”
“Not awesome.” She sniffled.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“If the baby’s a boy, he’ll likely be taken from me.” Hazel stared at her. “Yeah, he’ll grow up without a mother, or a father for that matter. I’m told this is a great honor for the parents.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re not the only one. Apparently, male children born to angel parents are sacred or some crap. Like I care.”
Hazel stood with her hands on her hips, staring at a knot in the floorboards for several minutes. “Okay. Before we panic, take this test first.” She tore open the box and handed the packaged stick to her.
Amalya handled the pee stick like an egg during a spoon race—out in front and her hand acting as the spoon. She closed herself inside the bathroom and leaned on the counter. She readied to relieve her bladder and opened the wrapper after sitting down. When she finished, Amalya replaced the cap on the end of the test and emerged from the bathroom, leaving the child damning bitch on the sink counter.
“Well?”
“I didn’t look at it, the directions said to wait ten minutes for the results to appear.”
“You’re just too chicken to look at it.”
“What’s your point?”
Her niece ducked her head into the bathroom. She came around the corner with the test in hand.
***
Jeremiah
“I think she’s still upset with you,” Virgil said.
“Shut up,” Elliott and Jeremiah said.
“Well, she left without saying anything.”
“Keep it up and I’ll shove my fist down your throat. I’m the reason you’re still here. I know how you hate to be alone.” Virgil flinched when Elliott brushed past him on the way to the bedroom. Jere watched his father retreat down the hallway. Since the male hadn’t told him to leave, he decided the safest place was in this apartment. Not like he could go out in public anyway.
His back tingled where the wings had once been. The sensation had been overlooked in the past. There was always heat pricking your back or imaginary bugs crawling down your spine in Netherworld. Jere shivered. He examined his hands, maybe if he trimmed his nails and shaved the fur off his legs he could…
No, you idiot, you can’t blend.
A single salty droplet streaked his red cheek.
“You’ve seen horrible things and had horrible things done to you,” Virgil said.
Jere sighed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You can ask Deus to change you back, but more than likely for a price.”
He placed his hand over his heart. “I’ll do anything.”
“Some advice. Don’t tell anyone that. Do you know where Eternity is?” Jere shook his head. “Well, I suppose I could fly us there and sneak you inside.”
The ceiling thinned until it disappeared. Jere crouched down and looked up over his shoulder. Virgil expanded his wings. He waved Jere over and told him to hang on tightly. His eyes misted as he remembered how much he loved flying. The Redeemer held him to his chest, his warmth melding into him. There was acceptance in the embrace; his heart soared even before they took flight.
They shot straight toward the clouds. The white vapor would shield them from the humans below. At a distance, the two would be mistaken for a large bird. Wind chilled his skin and goose bumps formed. He clung to Virgil. His back faced the ground. The angel dwarfed him in size. Although both of them were lean, Virgil’s muscles were bulkier and the male was more solid in stature. Jere had dreamed of developing a stronger physique when he lived in Arcadia. His time in Netherworld helped, but as a goat demon he’d only been able to reach a certain size. And that wasn’t much bigger than before. He had the capability of developing into a male like his father, but as a Sacred this had been unnecessary.
The larger angel swooped down in large loops. During aerial movements, the weightless stomach fluid sensation always made Jere laugh. They set down on a flat rooftop. He followed the angel toward a door. There was only one way into the angel hangout, an elevator inside the dance club Eternity, with a special button disguised as an emergency stop. Only angels could see the button for what it was. Virgil manifested and gave him a hooded sweatshirt and a floor-length coat. Jere kept his head down, claws in his pockets.
Jere inhaled deeply before entering the lobby. A small podium sat near a stand of bamboo stalks at the entrance to a larger room. He shrugged out of the coat and pushed the hood off his head.
An angel who manned the station cowered at the sight of him. “Oh, Deus.”
“It’s all right, this is Jeremiah the Sacred,” Virgil said. The other frightened angel’s eyes went wide.
“A-are you sure?” The male shied away as they walked past. His eyes remained fixed on Jere. “Oh. Oh, my.”
A thousand shades of purple assaulted his eyes. Angels lounged about on couches and overstuffed pillows on the carpeted floor on both sides of a shiny brick walkway. Double doors stood at the end of the spacious room, the walls decorated with pictures of female warrior angels battling demons. Goat demons. He glanced down his body and touched the jagged pro
trusions sticking out of his head. His chest tightened.
Virgil led him down the center path. Jere’s clip-clopping caught everyone’s attention. The angel at the long table full of food turned and pieces of fruit fell from his mouth, landing on the lilac carpet. An angel with green hair looked up from something he studied on his lap—a gray metal book with an apple on the outside.
“What’s this now?” the odd colored hair angel asked.
“Jeremiah the Sacred,” Virgil said. The tone suggested he was proud to make the announcement again.
“Ah, Elliott’s progeny. Hmm, figures. He can’t go back there, you know.” Max the Healer motioned with his head toward the French doors.
“I know,” Jere said. He only met Max’s eyes when the male sighed heavily.
“All right. Guess you want to look like your old self. It’ll probably cost you, but I have a feeling you don’t give a shit about that. Be right back.” Max stood and flew low to the doors. They opened at his will. He coasted through the swirling white mist and disappeared. The oak panels closed with a thud.
“How long will he be go—”
The doors opened. “I’m baaack. Did you miss me?” Max had purple hair now. Jere had heard about the time portal to Arcadia. As long as you exited Earth’s realm through the door, you returned to almost the exact moment in time.
“How long have you been gone?” Jere asked.
“Does it matter?”
Jere shook his head.
“Anyway, you want the bad news or the really bad news?”
Jere puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. “Does it matter?”
Max chuckled. “Nope. Deus says you’re no longer a Sacred, seeing how you’re impure now. However, he’s inclined to make you normal, provided you agree to become a Soaper. That’s grunt work, in case you didn’t know. The bottom of the barrel. The lowest of the low. It’s not glamor—”
“Enough,” Virgil said.
“All right. Can’t a male have a little fun?”
“Not at the expense of Jeremiah. He’s been through enough.”
“You would know,” Max said wryly.
Virgil glared at Max. “I would.”
Jere waved Virgil off. “It’s all right. I accept.”
Max clapped him on the shoulder. “Good choice. See you back at Elliott’s place. I have quick errand to run.”
CHAPTER
FIFTY-THREE
Ra’zael
Julia’s legs slid down. When her feet touched the ground, Raz stepped back. He swallowed a few times and tried to catch his breath. She sagged against the tree with her face in her hands. He was pissed at her. And himself. Trying to keep his mind focused on the task of retrieving and destroying the amulet was getting harder and harder, each time he sank into her. Ultimately, he’d have to do the right thing, but damn, it was going to hurt like Netherworld.
“We should get back,” he told her.
She lifted her eyes. “To the hotel? Why?”
“Yeah, why?”
Max.
Raz spun around and Julia covered herself.
“You may want to adjust your pants first.”
He glared at the Healer. “Can I help—”
“Deus told me you have Jeremiah’s wings,” Max said over him. “I need them.”
Raz pursed his lips. “Good. But they’re not on me.”
“Hotel?”
“Yeah.”
“Which one?”
“Hyatt on Michigan.”
“Ooooh, fancy. How are you affording that? As if I don’t know.”
“Shut up.” Raz snuck a peek over at Julia. Her mouth hung open.
“Whatever. Anyway. See ya.” Max waved with his fingers and disappeared.
“What was that all about? What does he want with the horns—wings, whatever?” Julia waved her hand through the air where Max had once been as if discovering teleporting for the first time. “Who was that?”
Raz groaned. “No one. Max the Healer.” He concentrated on the hotel room, praying Max wouldn’t be there when they returned. The purple-haired angel was cool but he wasn’t in the mood for any more comments from the male.
Whoosh. Buzz…
The air changed, signaling his return inside the hotel room. A gust of wind lifted a few of his feathers. He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling for a second. “Oh, what now?”
Julia appeared next to him and gasped. She slapped a hand over her mouth and backed into him. Raz steadied her with his palms on her shoulders. “I…he’s, he’s…” Her lower lip trembled.
“Sorry. People started showing up and I panicked. There’s a shortage of Soapers you know? Can’t people just be happy with their stations?” Joelle rambled.
Julia sniffled. “What’s a Soaper?” They both ignored her.
“Well, that answers that question. He’s dead,” Raz said.
“Yep. And he stinks too and not just because he’s dead. How do you suppose we get rid of the body? By now, humans would’ve seen the blood at the Pier and called the police. Soapers won’t touch that shit.”
“Will someone please tell me what a Soaper is?” Julia insisted, swiping a finger under an eye.
“Remember back on the train when I said not to worry about the mess?”
Julia concentrated for a moment. “Oh, you mean, like, they clean up?”
Joelle nodded. “Exactly, but now—”
“But now, Joelle fucked everything up. Should’ve left the body alone.” Raz rolled his eyes.
“See there was this little girl with her mother…sooo yeah.”
“You’re an idiot,” Raz said.
“I know. Help me figure this out.” Joelle raked his hands down his face.
Raz went to the bed where the dead man was lying and lifted the torso up by the shirt. Blood stained the white pillowcase from the head wound at the back. “Really? Had to lay him on the bed?” He dragged the body into the bathroom and put it into the tub. When he turned around, Julia stood behind him with tears in her eyes. Joelle came in carrying the pillow and sheets from off the bed. He tossed them on top of the dead man.
“I suppose we could burn the carcass.”
Raz chuckled. “Not in the room we ca—”
Ear splitting squeals filled the tiled room and everyone covered their ears. Julia fell to her knees, hunkering on the floor. Raz adjusted to the noise but hadn’t taught her how. He scooped her into his arms. All three of them ran out into the bedroom. Joelle slammed the bathroom door shut.
“Damn you, Joelle. Let’s hope the shadow demons only want the soul.” He set Julia on her feet and paced the room.
“It’s not my fault your girlfriend killed the bastard.”
Raz blanched. “She’s not my—”
“I didn’t mean to. I swear.” Julia shook her head profusely. “Oh, God,” she whimpered. Two feathers drifted toward the carpet at her feet. He looked away; he didn’t want to think about Julia’s grim situation. The only thing that made him feel better was she had only defended herself. The man’s resulting death wasn’t premeditated. Deus wouldn’t have cause to punish her, and the man clearly wasn’t an innocent. The clamor on the other side of the bathroom door ceased with one final cry from the soul. And a lazy one at that. Some spirits left their body and could be found at a considerable distance, and some more indolent ones lay limp inside, not realizing they could move. Although, sometimes the soul was so stunned by a sudden death, they remained paralyzed for a while.
Joelle opened the bathroom door. “Do you think one of you could grab a laundry cart from housekeeping? I have an idea.”
Laughter bubbled up from Raz’s chest. “Terrible idea but I think it may be our only option.”
“I’ll go find one,” Julia said and slipped out of the suite.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR
Amalya
The air inside her niece’s apartment broiled. Amalya fanned herself with her wings. “Is it hot in here?” she mumbled under breath
. She wrung her hands. Hazel’s expression was unreadable. “Oh, God, what’s it say? Please tell me.” With her eyes clamped shut, she could see all the tiny capillaries and black spots on the back of the lids. A cold sweat dampened her back. “Well?”
Hazel grinned.
“Just get on with it. Sorry. I’m impatient.”
“Pregnant.” Hazel’s eyes flipped up.
“Oh, God.” She shouldn’t be surprised. She and Elliott had been having unprotected sex since before their mating ritual. Amalya paced, flapping her wings. Her breaths came out in short bursts. “If anyone thinks they’re taking my baby, they better think again.”
“It’ll be all right,” Hazel comforted her.
“Like Netherworld, it will.”
Hazel raised her eyebrows. “Nether-what?”
“Hell. That’s what they call it.”
“Who?” Her niece cocked her to the side and squinted.
“Netherworld is Hell. It’s another realm. Just forget I said anything.” Amalya waved dismissively and continued on her quest to wear the varnish off the floor. She took a deep breath. “Hazel, hey ah, I may need you to do me a favor in about nine months.”
***
Jeremiah
Safely back inside Elliott’s apartment, Jere exhaled slowly. His father came out of the bedroom and reclined on the chair in the living room. The male’s glassy eyes fixed on the sliding glass door. “Are you all right, Pater?”
“Never been better. Can’t you tell?”
“Um, no,” Jere replied. “Max is meeting me here.”
Elliott turned his head to look at him. “Hmm. What did you do?” The male’s voice was deeper than his own.
“What makes you think I—”
“‘Cuz I would.” He faced the door wall again. “You’re not a Sacred anymore, are you?”
The male sighed like it was his last breath—quiet and depressed sounding.
“I’m to be Soaper, but I get to look like myself.”
“That’s fantastic. Good for you.”