Ange du Mal

by Stephanie Kane

I smiled. My dad had gone through a hippie phase, to the chagrin of gram and gramps. I probably inherited my love of the outdoors from him.

  Something black darted across my vision. I looked to see Gog and Magog land in my grandparents’ garden. They pecked in the flowerbeds.

  “Two for mirth,” my father said.

  “What?”

  “You know, that old rhyme about crows. One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for death.”

  “Death?” I shivered. “Dad, what do you think happens after we die?”

  My father straightened his tie. “That’s not a very festive question, kiddo.”

  “Humor me.”

  My father leaned against the balcony railing. “I think it’s like sleep. We drift off to dream in the Earth, become one with flowers and trees. I think it’s peaceful. Why? Is winter getting you down?”

  I watched Magog eat a worm. “No, it’s just that mom’s Catholic, and you’re an atheist. I don’t get how you make it work – how you reconcile your differences.”

  My father stole a shrimp from my plate. “If you love someone, you make it work.”

  I looked up at the billowing clouds. “I’ve never been in love.”

  Dad laughed. “What about Thomas? Or Regino? Not even Peter?”

  I shook my head. “That was high school. It doesn’t count.”

  “You’re young. You have time. Just have fun, okay? Stop worrying.”

  If only dad knew how much there was to worry about. I wanted to tell him everything, but it died in my throat, like Gabriel said it would.

  Christmas dinner came, and gram sliced honey ham with a silver knife. We sat round my grandparent’s elaborate dining room and ate off china. There was laughter and rich food – cranberries, rolls, butter so creamy it melted on your tongue. We spent the night at my grandparents, and Christmas morning came.

  I could have sworn I heard someone downstairs at midnight, but chalked it up to dreams. Presents were unwrapped and placed in neat piles besides the couch. I came to the last gift, a small box addressed to me in spidery script. I tore the wrapping off and found a leather-bound sketchbook with a Celtic knot-work of crows and roses pressed onto the cover. I admired its beauty and leafed through the silky pages.

  “This is amazing,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

  My family looked at each other in confusion.

  “Where did you get that from?” gramps asked gram.

  “I didn’t buy that for her,” gram said. “Ernest?”

  My father shook his head. “No. Rose?”

  “I got her the oil set,” my mother said.

  We all looked at Mo.

  “I gave Shannon the novelty socks!” Mo said.

  “Then who…?” I said, turning to the back of the sketchbook. A slip of paper fell from the binding. I picked it up:

  “MAYBE YOU’LL DRAW ME SOMETHING, MAGGOT.”

  I dropped the sketchbook.

  “What’s wrong?” my mother asked.

  “N – nothing,” I said.

  I put the sketchbook underneath my other presents.

  Mo and I went to a concert at the 9:30 Club two days before New Year’s Eve. During intermission, the heat of hundreds of people got to be too much, and I went out back to cool off.

  The pavement was wet with melted snow. People milled around, smoking cigarettes, toying with their phones. I looked up at the curving moon, so much like the smile of a Cheshire cat. I wandered into an alley behind an Ethiopian resturant, only to find something that looked like a drug deal going down.

  I turned to leave, but heard a name come from one of the shady men: “Azazel, she’s here. At the concert. We can take her without anyone noticing.”

  My blood ran cold.

  Gog and Magog landed at my feet and began to whistle. The Watchers looked up, their eyes hollow pits, burns on their skin.

  “It’s the whore who killed Jeqon. Quick!”

  I ran, darting down the street, taking random turns. I whipped out my phone and speed-dialed Samael.

  “Merry late Christmas, maggot. I was wondering when you’d call.”

  “Sam? The Watchers are here.”

  He cursed. “Send me your location. Now.”

  I scrambled behind a dumpster, then texted him the street name. A dozen Watchers rounded the corner, pulling guns from their belts. Their eyes were plucked out, but somehow, they could see.

  One snarled, revealing jagged teeth. “There she is. Come out, kitten. Let’s play.”

  I summoned my petersword. “Get back, you trash!” I said.

  A Watcher with a shaved head laughed. “Nice toy. What are you going to do, lock the dumpster shut and hide in it?”

  “Don’t underestimate her, Sariel,” said the one with the jagged teeth.

  “She’s weak, Azazel,” said Sariel.

  “No,” said Azazel. “She’s our seal. Our beautiful whore. We’ll treat her well, won’t we, gentlemen?”

  A Watcher with golden skin approached. “The bitch killed Jeqon. Why should we show her mercy?”

  Azazel’s lips were a thin line. “Jeqon disobeyed orders, Semyaza. He got what he deserved.” Azazel focused on me. “Didn’t he, Shannon O’Connor?”

  “You’re all rapists!” I said, stepping back. “I’ve read the Book of Enoch, I know what you did.”

  The golden-skinned Watcher – Semyaza – smirked. “That’s not how the women felt. They thoroughly enjoyed our affections.”

  Azazel grinned. “Perhaps we can give you the same pleasures we gave our wives.”

  Sweat made my hands clammy. “You’re filth,” I said.

  A vortex opened before me and out stepped Samael, scythe shining. His eyes were storms. “Stay back, Shannon.”

  Azazel pointed his gun at Samael. “If it isn’t the king of carrion. I’d say you look well, Sam, but there are more cracks on your skull than rings on a tree.”

  Samael bared his fangs. “That must be hard to see with your eyes ripped out. Don’t have enough power to hide your wounds?”

  Semyaza hissed. He fired a shot at Samael’s breast.

  Samael doubled over. Steam rose from his wound.

  Samael struggled to rise. “Adamant bullets. Where the hell did you get those?”

  Semyaza blew smoke from the barrel of his gun. “Like I’d tell you. Now, let’s make this easy. Give us the girl, and we’ll let your bony ass off with only a few grievous injuries.”

  Azazel aimed his gun at me. “Or you could try and defend her. It might be more fun.”

  “Sam? Get up!” I yelled.

  “I’m trying,” Samael said. He fell onto his stomach and hacked up blood. “Adamant is poison to angels, even fallen ones,” he choked. “It’s like kryptonite.”

  I was terrified. “Screw you guys!”

  “Screw indeed,” Azazel said.

  “Do what we did last time – with the angels in Pandemonium,” I said, desperate.

  Samael groaned. “I’m too weak. The adamant is spreading in my ether.”

  The Watchers closed in.

  “Try, damn it,” I said.

  Samael vomited gore. He wiped his lips with a shaking hand. “It will hurt. I can’t keep back the pain this time. I’m not strong enough.”

  “Whatever!”

  “Alright.”

  Pain beat my bones like a jackhammer. I slumped to the ground and curled in on myself.

  Shannon? Get up!

  I struggled to open my eyes. I scrabbled for Samael’s scythe. Sickly power coursed through me, mingled with pain. My body went on autopilot. Wings burst from my back, lifting me off the ground.

  The Watchers shot at me. I avoided their bullets, twirling the scythe to deflect them with the flat of Samael’s blade. I squeezed the scythe’s staff and aimed a lightning bolt at Sariel. It struck his heart, and the Watcher collapsed.

  “Bitch,” Sariel hissed. He fired off a shot.

  The errant bullet hit my back, below my shoulder. I cried out.
Blood poured down my spine.

  We have to get out of here. They’re too strong. I need to heal you.

  It hurt to move, with the bullet lodged deep in my muscle. I flew a rough path over the buildings, with Samael at the helm.

  “Let her go,” Azazel said. “It will be a stalemate with Samael possessing her.”

  The Watchers disappeared behind an apartment complex.

  What if someone sees me? I thought.

  Mortals can’t see immortals unless we make our presences known. That’s why no police came. You think that many gunshots would go unnoticed?

  Where am I going?

  Somewhere safe.

  Chapter 16

  My surroundings blurred. I landed in Arlington Cemetery, in the Civil War section. The graveyard was empty. I collapsed to the ground. Icy stone froze my cheek. My mouth opened wide, and black smoke spewed from my throat. Samael materialized, splayed on the ground beside me, a skeleton in black robes.

  “Where’s your skin?” I struggled to say.

  He wheezed. “Too weak. Can’t hold that form.”

  I rolled onto my stomach, blood pooling beneath me. “Crap, it hurts.”

  He crawled over to me. Samael put his hand on my back and choked out demonic words. I felt the bullet rise from my flesh. It exited the wound and fell to the ground. The hole in my back healed.

  “Better?” Samael said, his voice hoarse.

  “Yeah.” I sat up, dazed. “Why the graveyard?”

  Samael lay on his back, eye-hollows looking at the stars. “I’m more powerful here.” He clutched at his chest. “You’re good at dissecting things, right?” he rasped. “There’s a bullet, behind my sternum.”

  I flinched at the thought of touching him.

  “Please.”

  “Okay.” I crawled over to him and opened the neck of his robe. His rib cage rose and fell in a semblance of breathing. He smelled like autumn leaves. I flinched, touching his collarbone. “This is so gross.”

  Samael grunted. “Thanks.”

  The bullet was lodged beneath his sternum. I pried it loose and tossed it aside. Samael hacked up gore onto the sleeve of my jacket.

  “How are you bleeding?” I said. “You don’t even have any organs.”

  Samael sat up slowly, shaking. “You never shut up.”

  “You’re the one that rants. Are you okay?”

  “I feel like crap, but I’ll be fine. I don’t have enough energy to summon a portal back to Hell, and you don’t have your petersword.”

  I reached for the charm at my neck, only to find it gone. “Damn. I left it with the Watchers. Can’t you text someone?”

  Samael shook his head. “My phone runs on ether, remember? It doesn’t get service here.”

  “Can I text Damien?”

  Samael leaned against a gravestone. “No. There’s no coverage.”

  I sat next to him, breath heavy. “Then how can I text you?”

  “Your heart is mine. Our life forces are bound. I use that as the network conductor.”

  “What the actual heck.” I looked up at the moon. Gog and Magog flew past.

  “Strange how things work, isn’t it?”

  I toyed with a stick. “That’s not scientific at all.”

  Samael shrugged. “You’re the scientist, not me.”

  “Why are you always so annoying?”

  Samael wiped blood from his teeth. “To bring out the best in you. Did you like your present?”

  I sighed. “You snuck into my grandparent’s house like Krampus. Was that really necessary?”

  Samael smiled. “We take peculiar measures for the ones we hold close.”

  Anger flushed my cheeks. I scooted away from him. “We’re not close. You barely know me.”

  Samael scraped his finger bones along the ground. “It’s been five months. Almost half a year.” There was longing in his voice. “Of course I know you.”

  I looked away, uncomfortable. “Can we talk about something else? Like how I’m going to get back?”

  Samael tapped on the monument. “You can’t leave the graveyard. It’s holy ground. The Watcher’s hellhounds can’t enter it. You’ll have to stay here for the night.”

  I broke the stick in half. “In a graveyard? Isn’t crashing at a national cemetery like burning the American flag?”

  Samael lowered the hood of his robe. “I’ll be strong enough in the morning to take you home. Please. I need you safe.”

  I shook my head. “I hate graveyards. They creep me out. You creep me out. I’m talking to a corpse, for chrissakes.”

  Samael frowned. “I’m a skeleton, not rotting. I’m much more sanitary.”

  “Same thing.” I threw the stick pieces into the remnants of Christmas snow. “Ugh, this sucks. I’m freezing, and the only company I have is the Crypt Keeper.”

  Samael crushed a leaf in his hand. “I look nothing like the Crypt Keeper. Just like you were a crappy Elvira on Halloween. You’re not busty enough.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Ho boy, don’t even start.”

  He toyed with the fabric of his robe. “I’m not complaining. All you need’s a handful.”

  “Bastard!” I punched his skull, but only ended up hurting my fist.

  “Now your ass. That’s your crowning glory.” Samael lit a cigarette he’d pulled from his pocket and took a drag.

  I rose from the ground, ready to storm off.

  Samael didn’t take the hint. “It’s so round. Like two apples. I could bite it-”

  I kicked him in the pelvis, to no avail. “My toes!” I said, hopping on one foot.

  Samael laughed. “You’re so easy to get a rise out of.”

  “You think this is funny?”

  He hugged his legs to him. “Yes, I do. The adamant may also be clouding my judgment. It’s a bit like drinking a bowl of absinthe.”

  “I hate you.”

  Samael exhaled smoke in my face. “You didn’t seem to when we kissed.”

  I broiled. “You kissed me. I didn’t want it!”

  Samael whistled low. “Harsh, maggot.”

  Gog and Magog responded to his whistle and landed on his collarbone. He stroked Gog’s wings. Magog tried to feed him a worm.

  “Those are my crows. Stop corrupting them,” I said.

  “They were mine first.” He plucked the worm from Magog’s beak and offered it to me. “Hungry? Lots of protein. Very tasty.”

  “Eat it yourself it it’s so good.”

  Samael coaxed the worm into Gog’s mouth. He waved the crows away and rose from the ground. “You liked it when I kissed you. There was a dopamine rush in your brain.” He dusted off his robe.

  I put my hands on my hips and squared off against Samael. “Are you trying to use biology against me? Because trust me, I’ll win.”

  Samael tucked his hands into his pockets. “There was serotonin too. Infatuation.”

  I glared into his eye sockets. “What, are you a mind reader now?”

  “No, but I can guess.”

  “Fine. Maybe I like you, sort of. But that pales in comparison to how much you piss me off. Happy now, Satan?”

  He grinned. “Yes. Now, will you finally hold my hand?”

  I drew back. “No. I’m not touching you. You’re disgusting.”

  “Hold my hand.”

  “No!”

  “Please?”

  Irritation constricted my throat. “Will you shut up if I do?”

  “I swear on your undug grave.”

  I cursed and held his hand-bones.

  “There. Is that really so bad?”

  I grimaced. “Yes, it is.” I let go of his hand and wiped my palm off on my skirt. “Ew. Ew ew ew.”

  He smiled.

  “I can’t believe I’m stuck here with you until sunrise,” I said. “This is going to be so boring.”

  Samael scratched his chin. “I know several ways we can pass the time.”

  “Don’t you dare say anything sexual. You’re a
bag of bones.”