Angel Dust (22 page)

It was a hopeless lie. And I realised if I was going to keep breaking rules, I needed to get a lot better at lying. I pulled a sad smile at that, and thought of Marcus. He was right, you know. I really was a liar.

So step by step, shadow by shadow, lie by lie, I came down to the cemetery, and to the cremation of Joseph Biggs late of that parish.

There is nothing so bleak as an Earthly cemetery. The rows of graves, the dismal dull tarmac of the drive, the pathos
–
the sadness of forgotten lives, spent and gone, mouldering under slabs of stone.

Joey was being cremated. I didn't know how I felt about that. He should've been buried in a Christian graveyard with full blessings, not burned in a furnace as if everyone knew he was already roasting in Hell. But I said nothing. What could I have said anyway?

I got there early. I wanted to make sure I saw Marcus before it started. But as I stood in the chilly morning waiting for the hearse to arrive, for the mourners to gather, a heaviness settled upon me.

The cemetery was so drear, so gloomy. The crematorium was already creaking from an earlier burning, and except for one lonely figure standing by a grave far away, the place was quite deserted. I shuddered and looked at the plastic roses in their stone urns. The red had faded from their petals. They looked faintly drained, like tired slices of cooked meat, brown-yellow at the edges and lacklustre in the centre.

Plastic roses, a metaphor for immortality? Roses that never died, never shrivelled, were never alive, could never be full-blooded symbols of love. It made me shudder. I was immortal. I never shrivelled. I never aged, never changed. Was I also dead? Had I never been alive? Was I incapable of love?

As I mused, over my left shoulder I saw a figure approaching. It wasn't the lonely figure by the gravestone, but another dressed in a white suit; his golden hair glinted in the morning light. He had on a pair of white gloves and carried a snow-white briefcase tucked under his arm. I forgot about the meaning of plastic roses and turned to greet him.

‘Larry,' I said. I went to fold him in a polite embrace. He smiled as I curled my wings around him and laid my cheek close to his.

‘Hey, Cara,' he laughed. ‘Fab you could make it! Isn't it fun meeting up like this?'

I nodded. Although I would hardly have called it ‘fun'.

‘We'll give young Joey a wicked send-off,' said Larry. ‘You can do Choirs of Angels, and I'll do Solemn Dignity.' He laughed and pulled a mad, bad, crazy face, as if it was quite beyond him to ever be dignified.

‘Larry, can I check something out with you?' I asked, my heartbeat suddenly accelerating.

‘For you, darling, anything,' he said in that lazy way of his. ‘Except of course my steel guitar.'

I looked at him, puzzled.

‘Rod Stewart,' he said. ‘So retro.'

I was no clearer. Anyway, no matter. Instead I launched straight in with my question.

‘Larry, it's important I understand something. I've been very worried. You said you were an Independent Celestial Advisor – I just need to be sure exactly who you were working for when I signed the Extension contract. It was God – wasn't it?'

Larry threw back his head and laughed. ‘Bless you, Abracadabra! Did you think I was working for the Horned Horror?'

I mentioned the fuss in Heaven and the breach and how it had really shaken me.

‘My dear,' he said, ‘I work for
myself
.'

‘Oh,' I said, not entirely sure that answered my question.

‘Oh golly gosh, you poor child,' he chuckled. ‘Luckily for you, you don't have a
clue
about being self-employed – but if you did, you'd know that even self-employed beings are regulated.'

‘Oh,' I said again. Of course they were bound to be regulated. God loved Rules.

‘There
–
are you reassured?'

I was. At least I think I was. The idea of rules and regulations certainly calmed me. But I needed to find out a lot more about the regulations to be certain. Now, though, wasn't the right time and I didn't want to annoy him. So I put on a smile and said, ‘Could I ask you something else?'

‘Let me guess! It's about your little project, Reforming the Bad Boy, isn't it?'

I wasn't completely happy about the word ‘little', but I carried on anyway.

‘Larry, I was so confident when I took out the Extension that I'd be able to just explain everything to Marcus,' I said, ‘and I hoped the love of an angel would be enough to
–
'

‘Absolutely, Angel-cakes, I should think
so
,' said Larry. ‘Anyone who isn't half in love with you must be totally retarded!' Larry looked at me, his pale blue eyes shining like a cat.

Deep inside them I saw something that jolted me.
Was Larry interested in me?
I stared at him.
Like that?
There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes. If I'd have given the word he'd have devoured me on the spot.

‘Oh,' I said, because I'd lost track of what I was going to say.

‘You thought he'd fall for you,' smiled Larry, prompting me.

‘No, but
–
'

‘But what?' said Larry. ‘I think you two would make a lovely pair.' His voice dropped as he said it. I saw the light in his eyes die a little, as if the idea of Marcus and me happy together hurt him.

‘But Marcus is so trapped,' I said. ‘He wants to change. I know he does. He tried to repent. But it didn't work out. In fact it went terribly wrong. Everything backfired. And now I'm scared he won't try again
–
in fact he might do
anything
. He's not in the least bit worried about death and damnation. He just seems to obey his own rules. I'm scared he may not take any notice of me, however much I talk to him.'

‘Oh dear,' said Larry, but I noticed the fear had gone from his eyes.

‘And I was wondering if you've had any success
–
mentoring him? I know you helped him out at the police station – thank you so much. Do I owe you anything for that?'

Larry smiled at me, a big broad confident smile. ‘Getting him to turn Queen's evidence was only part of my strategy. And it's all on the basis of no win, no fee! How's that?' He said it like he'd just caught a cricket ball with one hand.

My heart settled a bit. It was very generous of him, but I wasn't so sure about his ‘strategy'. Turning ‘Queen's evidence' had actually made things worse. But all I said was, ‘Thanks.'

To tell you the truth I'd have been a lot more easy in my mind if he been a bit less flippant and had charged me properly. No win, no fee might just mean, if you don't pay anything
–
you don't get anything.

‘I'll be at his side constantly,' said Larry. ‘I'll whisper in his ear all the time. Except when you two are together, of course!' He tapped the side of his nose knowingly.

I blushed.

‘But it may not be enough,' he warned.

My heart sank. That was just what I thought.

‘What else can I do?' I said, my voice breaking.

‘You need to try to see more of him,' asserted Larry firmly. ‘When the girl you love isn't with you All The Time your imagination goes crazy. You ask yourself: where is she, then? What's she doing? Shagging my best friend? Why isn't she here? Probably shagging all my friends. He'll be driving himself completely mental thinking about you.'

I gulped. I'd no idea humans thought like that! So base. So 
–

‘Sorry to say it like it is,' smiled Larry, ‘but would I tell a lie?'

Well, he had come straight to the point, however, um . . . indelicate.

I sighed. ‘But I can't always be on Earth, you know that, and it's so difficult at the moment.' I thought of God's Army and shuddered. ‘Even now I shouldn't really be here,' I said.

‘Poor you,' said Larry sympathetically, ‘but Marcus won't understand, will he? He'll think: well, you're an angel; you can do what the hell you want, so if you're not visiting him that means you don't really want to. It'll drive him nuts! Just imagining you off with the next guy.' Larry slid his arm around my waist.

‘Oh no,' I cried.

Larry dropped his arm. ‘But talking about the next guy,' he said silkily, ‘I don't suppose he has a chance, has he?' Larry looked at me. There was no mistaking his question.

‘Oh Larry,' I said. ‘No chance.'

‘Oh well, just trying,' said Larry, ‘but I totally get you, and honestly, if you want to reassure Marcus, you've got to spend a lot longer with him. If he slips up and takes a wrong turn, it'll be Hell and Damnation for him, before you can spit out a blessing and flick up a wing feather.'

I trembled. The idea of Marcus burning in the fiery pits. I folded my wings in tight until they were all flight shafts standing stiff around me. My brilliance wavered; the stench of Styx wove itself nightmarishly close. I could feel its appalling breath on my skin.

‘
Larry, help me
,' I pleaded. ‘
Please
help me. Is there any way angels can get down to Earth? I don't mean as an Outcast or a ghost
–
that wouldn't help – I'd have to stay invisible . . . and I've got to be there – solidly with him – all the time . . .'

‘Only one,' muttered Larry, ‘and you don't want to
even
consider
it.'

‘A way!' I cried.

Larry shook his head. ‘You don't want to know,' he replied.

‘But I do,' I said. ‘I'm ready to do anything to save Marcus.'

‘Anything?' said Larry.

‘Yes,
anything
.'

‘You're crazy!' he said.

‘I think . . . I'm in love,' I said slowly. It was the first time I'd said it out loud. And it felt right. So right that I laughed in a sudden mad way and wondered why I'd never said it before. ‘And love will do anything
–
it can conquer everything, can't it?'

‘Not this,' he said.

‘Please tell me,' I said.

‘No. You don't want to know. You could never do it, anyway. Never should do it.'

‘Please tell me,' I said quite coldly. ‘I assure you if there
is
a way, I'm quite prepared to take it.'

He paused. ‘You have to Fall,' he said flatly.

My God. He was right. I'd have to Fall.

‘Yes, Fall,' he said, ‘fall from Heaven completely, fall from God's grace. Cease to be an angel.'

To Fall.

The thought sent shivers into me. To renounce Heaven. To lose for ever the Elysian Fields, the gentle winds of Heaven. The smiles of my friends, the laughter of the blessed.

‘Exactly,' said Larry. ‘I told you it was a non-starter and you couldn't do it.'

But couldn't I? What was love, then, if I wasn't able to cast away everything for its sake? My love would be as empty and shallow as a plastic rose, mere show, lifeless, insubstantial, a flame in the wind. Marcus was right to doubt me. He'd seen through me at a glance. I remembered the single word he'd said at the club. ‘Liar.' A deep shame swept over me at the thought that I wasn't ready to love him above and beyond everything.

I turned to Larry. ‘What is love, then,' I asked him, ‘if it can't commit itself even to save a soul?

Larry put an arm around my shoulder. ‘Cast it out of your mind, Candelabra,' he said, ‘I should never have told you. I regret doing it. It was silly and irresponsible of me. And I won't give you the kit.'

‘Larry,' I said, ‘don't blame yourself. I forced it out of you. I wanted to know. I truly did. What is a kit?'

‘You've got yourself all tied up in knots wondering about the nature of love and doubting yourself.' Larry smiled kindly. He laid a hand on my left shoulder. ‘And that's confusing you. Of course you love him
–
enough. Of course you do, but nobody in their right mind expects you to give up immortality for the love of a stupid human boy, and (let me remind you) a very sinful, ungrateful human to boot.'

I flinched at that.

But to give up immortality?

I dropped my head. Larry meant it kindly, I suppose, but his words stung. Was that all Marcus was? A stupid, sinful, ungrateful human? Something that didn't qualify for the love of an angel? And if that was so, what did God's love mean? Why did we bother saving humans at all?

Love, then, was a silly shallow emotion.

I couldn't bear it. I couldn't think like that. Marcus was worthy of loving, worthy of sacrificing everything for. Love could leap even the divide between Heaven and Hell. I would save Marcus. I would. I'd prove my love. Even if I had to Fall.

I stood there suddenly stronger, more resolute, more in charge. There was nothing that I couldn't do for Marcus.

As if Larry could read my mind he suddenly winked at me. ‘You'd have to go all the way, you know
–
inhabit a human body, become fully mortal, no messing around, no hanging on to your eternity. You do understand what real Falling is? Although,' he added, ‘of course there might be advantages to being mortal.'

I looked at him, confused. I would not consider any advantage! If I Fell it would be for the most pure and noble reasons.

Larry winked. ‘Like touch,' he whispered. ‘Real sensation! Oooo!' And he ran a finger across my feathers.

Touch. As soon as he said it the image of Marcus at his birthday party rose up to haunt me.

Me, in the doorway, quite overcome. Grieving for all the things that might have been, and never were. The music turned up. Me disorientated. Me imagining what it would be like to be human. Not an Angel of Death. Not immortal. Me swaying to the music, imagining I had a body. A real body. Flesh and bone. A body that someone, some day, could hold . . .

And Marcus with his smile, his lovely crooked smile, showing off his pearly teeth, dragging the prettiest girl into his arms.
Me watching as she moulded herself against his chest, seeing the muscles in his arms straining against his shirt, trembling as he used the music to send her crazy, imagining it could be me with Marcus . . .