Penchant for Darkness

by J Elizaga

  “Are you going to tell the wife what just happened?” Tony asked.

  “You don’t?”

  Tony shrugged his shoulders. “She knows our job. She doesn’t need to hear play-by-play of incidents like this. It would just scare her.”

  “I usually tell Chelie what happened,” Miles answered.

  “No kidding, you really tell her everything? How long have you been married, man?” Tony asked.

  Miles did not answer Tony’s first question. Yes, he kept some things from Richelle.

  “We’re coming up to seven years,” Miles replied before quickly changing topic to avoid further questions about his life. “Let’s see if there’s a bar near the resort. We could use a drink. This has been a hell of a day.”

  “I second that,” Tony replied. Miles remained silent for the rest of the drive to the soon-to-open resort.

  CHAPTER 6

  Manila was a city of contrasts. Global corporations set up high rise offices in the main financial district yet at the edge of the metropolitan area, people lived simply where backyards were still littered with a few ducks and chickens. Richelle woke up from a rooster’s repeated crowing at six a.m. She turned to her side and quietly opened the nightstand drawer and reached for the basal thermometer. A few moments later, it read 97.5 degrees. She was ovulating.

  Miles snored softly beside her. She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep again but could not. Instead, her mind flashed to the night she met Miles.

  It was college basketball championship night and their school team were in the finals. She went to a sports bar with friends. The place was crowded and rowdy. Everyone had their full attention on the game. Richelle stepped outside to light a cigarette. It did not take long for two college boys to ask her for a smoke.

  Beyond the bad breath that both juveniles spewed, they were drunk and insistent. As she continued smoking her cigarette, they jabbed about opposing basketball teams. But the jabs soon became a dwindled circumference of personal space. Her hands kept removing their arms from her shoulders. Her bitchy one-liners did not have an effect on them. Soon, they each wanted a kiss. When one of them pulled her hand with such force that she lost her balance and let go of her cigarette, a voice rang in the darkness.

  “Get off her!”

  One of the boys turned his head and looked. Under the building exterior lamp stood Miles, a tall figure wearing a soiled apron. He was holding a large knife in one hand and a black garbage bag in another.

  The two drunk jerks tripped over each other as they scrambled to run away from Miles’ menacing pose under the harsh glare of building’s exterior lamp. But Richelle only saw a safe corner, a kitchen hand who smelled of sweat and tomatoes. He swung the garbage bag into the trash and caught her in his arms. They dated after that night and had been together for the past ten years.

  Richelle’s body jerked itself awake. Miles was awake too. His hand touched her shoulder gently. “Hey.”

  She curled the hand holding the basal thermometer close to her chest. “You go ahead. I want fifteen minutes more.”

  She felt his kiss on the back of her neck. Miles got up from bed as she pretended to have gone back to sleep. After she heard the bathroom door close, she quickly placed the thermometer back in the drawer, and groaned silently. She had a business proposal to present soon. She was in no mood for anything but to finish that.

  Fertility was not one of the problems they thought married life would bring. Both sets of remaining parents were eager to enjoy grandchildren. But after three years of trying, excitement was replaced with concern. Miles put on his engineer hat and approached their problem logically. They scheduled with doctors and specialists to find what was wrong.

  His sperm count was low.

  Upon learning that, Richelle spoke with each set of parents and asked them to take it easy on the topic of grandchildren. She did not want Miles to face their repeated inquiries during their visits with family.

  They decided to try conceiving for three years. Not having success, they went through in vitro fertilization next. But they stopped after two implantation failures and depleted savings. Three years turned to five and five was now reaching seven.

  “We’ll keep trying, right?” Miles would ask each time they fucked, checking that they both still wanted the same thing.

  Richelle sighed. Some days were great and some were not. Over the years, Miles remained as patient a spouse as she was fiery. She knew she tested his patience. But it alleviated something dreary in her life to get away with things, like her new leather bag. She enjoyed those little moments of victory.

  She caught the scent of Irish Spring. Miles walked back to their room. “Good morning,” she greeted.

  “Chelie, you will be late if you don’t get up right now.” Miles sat on the edge of the bed near her feet, glancing at the clock before putting on his socks.

  “I’m up.” She stretched, got out of bed, and headed to the bathroom.

  “What’s for dinner tonight?” he asked.

  “Anything you fancy, but I’ll have to pick it up. I’m going to shop for a new outfit after work. I have nothing to wear for the presentation next week,” she said before walking to the bathroom.

  “The presentation’s next week already? Time flies fast towards the holidays,” her husband replied, not paying much attention to the conversation.

  “Exactly, that’s why I need to get that outfit tonight,” Richelle replied from the bathroom.

  She did not see that her husband saw the drawer ajar. He stepped closer, enough to see the thermometer’s last reading still displayed. Where Richelle would usually ask him to come home early on days she was fertile, this time she had said nothing. She was unaware of the uneasiness her husband felt. Their situation had been weighing on his mind since their sixth wedding anniversary.

  “You know, honey, aside from that episode with the power line last Thursday, it was a really nice resort. And they’re opening in a month. I asked if they had a special grand opening package and they gave me complimentary four days and three nights there. What do you think? Shall we make a short getaway?”

  The bathroom door opened and Richelle stepped out, holding her toothbrush up, rearranging spit in order to speak. “Are you serious? Of course, let’s!”

  Miles smiled at her agreement, aware that his mood had lifted, momentarily at least.

  CHAPTER 7

  The weather was so heavy and warm with humidity that Richelle was grateful for the air conditioning as she made her way inside one of the large shopping malls. Music resumed playing after a short public-broadcast weather warning.

  She was glad that she decided to get her outfit tonight, for rains would fill the city in two days. She walked with purpose to get to the women’s clothing area, crossing the fragrance section quickly. She was at the shoe section when a man walked across from her, about twenty feet away. Seeming in slow-motion, she saw his gaze intently and solely on her. It unexpectedly took her breath away.

  “I thought it was you,” Luc exclaimed, sounding relieved and happy to see her.

  “Luc!” Surprised, Richelle greeted him like an old friend.

  Luc bent forward and kissed her cheeks, laughing as he caught her off-guard and unsure where to move her head. “Two cheeks, madam. I am not American.”

  Richelle smiled as she offered the other cheek, realizing she had barely seen him in the office since they met at the coffee room a few weeks ago.

  “I haven’t seen you in the office, I figured you were travelling.”

  “I arrived about an hour ago and immediately had to attend a meeting upstairs with the COO,” he explained. They started walking, and he placed his hand gently under her elbow and guided her through the menswear area. “I’m quite happy to see you for an entirely different matter, although it is related to work.”

  “What is it?” Richelle asked.

  “Let’s turn around here.”

  She found herself in the menswear section. “The hote
l laundry service screwed up my business suit for tomorrow. I hope you have a moment to spare and help me out. I’m not quite sure with men’s clothing sizes here.”

  “Don’t you wish your tailor was here?” she asked.

  “Like you would not believe. And they do not have an in-house tailor, I’ve inquired. Were you shopping yourself? I promise if you help me out, I’ll return the favor.”

  Though Richelle was sure she was getting a more-than-work-colleague vibe, she decided, since they were in a public place, to help him with his dilemma. “I think I have few minutes. Let’s see what you selected.”

  He pointed to a seating area near the fitting rooms. “Well now, I’m suddenly embarrassed but here we go. Please, there are some comfortable chairs here. Have a seat while I get my outfit sorted out.”

  She sat down. A male store employee emerged from the fitting room carrying a pile of folded clothes and walked by them, nodding lightly at Richelle as she pulled out her mobile phone and sent Miles a text message that she was running a few minutes late.

  Richelle did not hear Luc until she saw the tip of his professionally-shined shoes in front of her where she sat. She put her phone back in the bag and looked up. Luc stood with arms outstretched.

  Like he stepped out of a fashion magazine.

  “How do the shoulders feel?” she asked him.

  “Let’s see.” He stretched out his arms and moved them to get a feel of the fit as he continued to speak. “I think this jacket is just a tiny bit short for my taste. But without an in-house tailor, it will do.”

  “You’re taller than the typical customer. How about a nice shirt to keep the eye away from the jacket?” Richelle ran her eyes up and down Luc’s body.

  He is almost as tall as Miles, she thought.

  “I shall not argue with that fashion advice. Thank you, Madam.” Luc slightly bowed before changing the topic. “I’m curious, Richelle. Your last name is English. Penchant.”

  “Yes, my husband’s name is not a native Filipino name and there is a backstory, if you want to hear it.”

  “Of course,” Luc accepted.

  “Have you heard about the bombing of Intramuros during World War Two?” Richelle asked.

  “Yes, the oldest district was nearly obliterated during the recapture of the city from Japanese forces. I saw the devastation,” Luc replied.

  Richelle wanted to continue her story but her brain clamped on Luc’s last sentence. “You saw the devastation?”

  “Yes,” there was the tiniest of pauses. “In pictures during history class. History was one of my favorite subjects. But please continue with your story.”

  “Oh yes,” and Richelle returned to her story. “Miles’ grandfather survived the bombing. The rest of his family did not. He was young, about ten years old. An American medic found him wandering through the rubble, dazed and in shock. He took him to get medical care, where they discovered he had amnesia. The poor child did not remember anything. The medic fell in love with a local nurse and decided to remain in the country, so he ended up marrying the nurse and adopting the boy. The medic’s name was Robert Penchant and Miles’ grandfather was their adopted son.”

  Luc feigned interest. “What a lucky break for the grandfather,” and he quickly changed the conversation. “Well, I’m a man of my word. You were my sounding board and I found an outfit to wear tomorrow. So, it is your turn. I am here at your service.”

  Richelle debated if she should accept his offer. She was flattered at the attention of a very good-looking man. If she were single, she would have flirted back.

  She smiled at him. “I can handle this one by myself.”

  Luc nodded. “Very well, I will head to the cashier for this purchase. You saved me tonight.”

  “Glad to be of help.”

  “You’ve done more than that.”

  It seemed as though they competed for the longest smiling gaze to see who would break first.

  Luc blinked. Richelle inwardly claimed a small victory as he murmured that he must go. She was unaware that behind the attractive smile, Lucifer’s attention had shifted to another woman’s voice who wanted to kill her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend. To the devil, such idea was worth a visit.

  In a blink of her eyes, Luc was gone from her line of sight, and a young store employee walked in front of her. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit, forcing her to sit back down.

  “Are you okay, madam?”

  Richelle smiled at the store clerk after composing herself. “I must have stood up too fast.” She sat wondering at how Luc was gone so quickly.

  CHAPTER 8

  The rain stabbed the city sideways with hurricane-strength winds. The mayor ordered his citizens to take shelter before noon. School sessions were cancelled and business establishments closed their shops. Thunder rolled through the skies.

  Inside an empty coffee shop, a man and a woman appeared to have entered through a slice in the air. One sat down while the other casually walked towards the espresso machine and started helping herself to coffee.

  “You are right, there is a Starbucks in every corner of this city. Would you like a cup?”

  “If it is not too much trouble, Gabrielle,” Michael replied.

  Gabrielle was in charge of communications to humans. She possessed such a beautiful face that men and women of any nation were tantalized by her apparition. She announced a few pregnancies during her travels to Earth. And she knew the exact language to use for each contact she made with humans.

  In contrast, Michael looked as he lived, always ready to fight Lucifer’s continued intrusion into the lives of humans. Battle-scarred, his face and body bore the marks of defeating a powerful machine who could not be shut down. It was he who imprisoned Lucifer in Hell.

  A third human soon joined them from the same opening where Michael and Gabrielle entered.

  Gabrielle exclaimed, “Well, look who is back. Glad you can join us, Rafa!”

  “How was your vacation?” Michael asked.

  Rafael pulled his shirt to reveal a slight glow on his skin. The other two looked, each giving an appreciative nod. Gabrielle joined Michael and Rafael at the table, as three cups of espresso quickly floated by and gently landed on the table where the three sat. If someone outside saw them, they looked like business people having coffee.

  Gabrielle enjoyed a sip of her espresso before speaking. “So why are we here, Michael? Last I heard, you were in Gambia.”

  “Yes, I was. Lucifer had the mind of the dictator under his control, and the man did not want to recognize his lawfully-elected successor.” Michael inhaled in his human disguise. “We are here because his presence was detected here.”

  Gabrielle looked out the window. “Lucifer has difficulty reaching human brain waves during storms.”

  Michael remained pensive. Rafael, who was the healer in the group, had been observing his friend intently. Of the three, Rafael stayed the farthest from humans, only occasionally intervening. But Michael, who spent most of his time on Earth and who looked as tough as the scars on his body, cared most about humans. Rafael extended a hand and squeezed Michael’s shoulder gently.

  “Speak your mind, Archangel Michael,” he urged, teasing his friend with the revered title that humans bestowed upon him.

  “I sense something in this area. But I have no tangible evidence to provide, nothing to review aside from the original alert about Lucifer, but I am drawn here inexplicably,” Michael replied. “There was a woman named Richelle who interacted with spirits he controlled. But that did not strike anything unusual.” Michael paused before he straightened his posture as if he was snapping himself out of the admission.

  “When was the last time you took some time for yourself? The rest of us will be vigilant while you take a second to rest, Michael,” Rafael advised.

  Gabrielle placed a hand on her chest. Her wrist glowed while Rafael and Michael continued their conversation.

  Michael nodded. “I shall consider your advice, Rafa.”
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  Gabrielle returned to the conversation. “There was a seer who saw his presence disguised as a blond-haired man walking with an old man named Pulo. The old man passed away a few weeks ago.”

  A loud clap of thunder followed by powerful lightning struck and illuminated the area. In the distance, a transformer blew up, cutting electricity in the coffee shop. Each one placed a hand on their chest. All three wrists glowed. A message was relayed to them.

  “We are on our way,” Gabrielle said aloud.

  The three stood up. Gabrielle gently swished a hand and their used coffee cups disappeared and reappeared in the sink looking unused. Each one proceeded to shed the outer covering of their body from the clothes to their skin, disintegrating into minute particles until the only evidence of their existence was a very thin layer of fine dust on the floor.

  But before Michael fully discarded his outer appearance, he happened to glance out the large glass window and saw a metal sheet hurling towards an untended food cart. Suddenly, a woman struggling to hold steady her umbrella appeared from behind the cart, in the direct path of the metal sheet. It was going to decapitate her. Instinctively, Michael swung his arm towards the metal sheet, instantly flinging it away from the woman’s path. He did it just as the final grains of dust peeled away from his hand.

  Out of their human covering, the three looked similar. They were tall, with circular heads, and high pronounced cheekbones. Their noses were small and remained close to their faces, and their jaws were square. Their large eyes held by a ridged forehead, changed colors, accepting light and darkness with equal ability. And it looked striking against the hairless, dark and slightly translucent “skin” covering their bodies.

  As the three walked through the floor-to-ceiling glass panel, Gabrielle and Rafael disappeared back into a slice in the air. But Michael, who enjoyed the feel of rain on his body, stood in the downpour. “I want to stay a moment longer.”