Angel Dust (9 page)

I sighed. Half the stuff printed in the
Trumpet
was rubbish. If only I could get a copy of the
Celestial Herald
. Hastily I hurried through side streets to the Cloisters. Somebody was bound to have one there.

Over the cobbles I sped, until I reached the main arch to the entrance. Then I barged through the huge doors, slamming them behind me. The place seemed completely empty. I couldn't even hear any singing.

‘Hello? Anyone there?'

The ambulatory was deserted. My friend Celandine's cell was locked. I hammered on her door just in case she was resting. Nothing. From far away I heard a murmuring. Had everyone gone to Devotions? Already?

I raced down the corridors and round the quadrangle to my cell. I let myself in, and bolted the door behind me. When I was safely inside I went all shivery
. We were on Code Amber. God's Army was bombing the Abyss.
I shook my head. I didn't understand.

Why couldn't God just meet up with the Devil? Weren't they once friends? Maybe if they both said sorry then the Devil could stop being so angry. I couldn't see how a terror campaign was going to help anything. Plus God's Army scare me, more than Satan. I probably shouldn't say that – after all I've never met Satan, so I don't know what he's capable of.

Inside my cell I tried to calm down. I put on music. I put on fairy lights. I lit some incense. But it was no good, I was so jumpy. Why had we escalated to Code Amber so quickly? Were we about to be overrun with demons? I put on the Announcer, and tuned it into the Prair Waves.

‘Please, Holy Father, help me . . .'

I tuned in to another channel.

‘God's Army have been interrogating suspects . . .'

If only Marcus were here. That would calm me. I could take care of him. He'd be safe. I imagined his cheek pressed against my pillow, my arms comforting him . . .

‘. . . denounce those found attending séances, trying to contact the living.'

Why is it when you want to get the news up you can never find the blessed right frequency?

‘. . . will be instantly vaporised . . .'

Or if I could be on Earth with him.

Was I crazy? I was a Seraph. He was a man.

‘. . . new offensive from Hell . . . the Challenge issued by the Devil . . . the Senior Team having declared war . . .'

For some reason my throat went dry. A sudden ache made me catch my breath.

‘. . . serious breach . . . state of emergency . . . no quarter left unexamined . . .'

Was that a noise outside?

I rushed to see. I pressed my nose to the leaded pane. In the darkness beyond I caught a glimpse of something: a shape flying, material swirling, then it was gone.

Every feather on every wing curled up and shrank. Had someone found out about Marcus? A chill blasted through me. What if Extensions were against the Rules when we were at war!
What if someone had denounced me to God's Army?

What would they do to Marcus?

Trembling, I drew every blind. I put out the lights and sat down in the dark. Someone might still be watching. I got so scared. I didn't want to be alone. I tried to think. Who could I turn to? Where were the other Seraphim? I strained to listen. Finally I heard a distant whisper of prayer. Of course, those not on Heavenly Duties would be keeping Vigil. Even my two closest friends, Celandine and Haniella, would be praying and fasting until the threat from Satan was past.

And then I remembered the invitation. Glory be! Thank God for Raquel.

I hurried through the overshadowed streets. I kept my hearing on full volume, my vigilance on super alert, my wings unfurled ready for flight. In my hand I conjured thunderbolts to hurl even if the tiniest shadow appeared.

I made my way down bejewelled lanes to the outskirts of the town where Raquel lived. She'd had moved into the campus villas on the west side of the City by the sixth foundation stone of ruby. (You can do that once you've graduated from the Cloisters. Although you still have to do the duties, of course.)

All around me the sky flickered, sirens wailed, the air quivered. And I couldn't swear to it, but behind me I kept getting the feeling that something was following. Just a tweak of movement, a swirling of air in the twilight, and the tiny hairs all down my neck prickling.

I can't tell you the relief it was to arrive at Raquel's place and slip inside her gates. I heaved a huge sigh and waited until all my feathers stopped quivering. I leaned up against an old yew tree near the fence, my heart still racing. Even the strains of the choir tuning up took a while to calm me. At last I collected myself. I shook out my wings. I tossed my head and let my tresses burn with fiery radiance. I composed myself, ready to go in.

Inside Raquel's garden there were angels everywhere, saints too, and lots of souls. Little cherubs carried round trays loaded with delicacies: ambrosia, scent of sandalwood, fragrant nectar. I wasn't tempted. I needed to know what was going on. I rushed past everything, looking for Raquel.

She met me on the steps to the lower garden. She unfurled every wing around me, held me close, as if we were quite old friends. ‘Serafina!' she cried. ‘How wonderful! You came. With all this palavering going on too. Here, have some honeydew.' She put a flute of clearest amber dew in my hand and kissed me on both cheeks. I was very grateful that she hadn't mentioned anything about the ascent from Hell, or how dimmed I must look.

‘What's going on?' I gasped. ‘Why are we on Code Amber?'

‘Meet Clothilde,' she said and waved vaguely at a middle-aged saintly-looking creature.

‘Pleased to meet you,' said Clothilde. ‘I think there's been a breach.'

‘A breach?' I said, eyes widening.

‘I'm going to introduce you to all my friends.' Raquel grabbed me by the arm and hauled me off towards a cluster of angels.

I seized hold of Clothilde and said, ‘What kind of a breach? Has Satan got into Heaven?'

Clothilde trotted unwillingly along beside me. Raquel ducked and dived through the guests. ‘No, I think it's more of a security breach,' she said.

‘Here's Georgia and this is Daniel; here's Maria and David,' Raquel chanted in a charming singsong voice.

‘I
must
know, Clothilde,' I said as Raquel swept me on again.

‘It's Saint Clothilde, actually,' said Clothilde. She was falling behind, stopping to sniff at perfume thimbles.

‘
Saint
Clothilde, then,' I yelled. I was almost losing her in the throng.

‘They say . . .' Clothilde shouted out, but her voice was lost in the hubbub. And that was that.

I surrendered. I allowed Raquel to give me the Full Induction. I followed her around and smiled a lot. I'd find Saint Clothilde later and get the whole story. At least Satan hadn't stormed Heaven.

Across the party I saw the silhouette of a lone angel standing by the garden's edge. Behind him the sky was sinking in fiery red. The angel stood dark against the golden sky. He had one wing folded behind him and his profile was turned away from the party. He stood quite motionless. Strangely quiet.

Unlike Raquel.

‘Meet Dahlia, you'll know her, of course, and Saint Sebastian, oh gosh! Yes, Seb, it
is
All Saints' Day in a week or so . . .' Raquel chatted on.

All Saints' Day. All Hallows' Eve. I trembled.

After today, only eight full days left.

The sun sank a fraction, touched the still angel by the garden's edge, caught his profile. He turned his head. I held my breath. He was mind-shatteringly beautiful.

‘Who's that?' I asked, pulling on Raquel's arm. Raquel followed my eye.

‘Oh, that's Kamuel,' she said. ‘He's a darling, knows everything about everything and then some more.' She steered me away in another direction and whispered conspiratorially, ‘Too intense; not really chatty. We'll greet him later.'

At that moment he lifted up his face. His gaze shot across the garden. His eyes met mine. Clear grey stormy eyes with deep centres. His formerly still outline suddenly quivered a little, as if a shiver had gone through him, as if he had suddenly seen in me something that he'd been waiting for.

I shuddered too. I couldn't take my eyes off him
.
He had such sad eyes, such lonely depths to them.

‘Come
on
, Serafina,' hissed Raquel. ‘You can meet Kamuel later. He won't disappear, you know – he's not a will-o'-the-wisp.'

But I couldn't get him out of my mind. Why did he look so sad? Maybe he knew why God and the Devil couldn't make up.

As it turned out there was no later. There was only the choir recital.

Resignedly I found myself a bower. Brushing rose petals to one side I curled up, prepared to be frustrated. How could I settle down and listen to cherubim?

Suddenly my reverie was interrupted by a cool, clear voice.

‘Would you mind if I joined you?'

I looked up to see the elegant form of Kamuel standing over me.

‘Raquel didn't introduce us,' he said.

‘She wanted to,' I said. ‘She was very busy.'

‘It wasn't a reproach,' smiled Kamuel. ‘I saw you and I waited.'

‘And now you've saved her one more job,' I laughed.

He sat down beside me, smiled. Suddenly I felt embarrassed. I could see by the shining light above his head he was an Archangel.
An Archangel!
I'd never even
met
an Archangel before – I mean, sat with one at a garden party and tried to pour them a drink, like I was trying to now, reaching for a flute, fumbling my lines, slopping the nectar on to the grass and my wing.

‘Glory be,' I said, ‘you're an Archangel.'

‘Yes,' he said very kindly, ‘rather a troubled Archangel tonight.'

I gulped. He did look troubled. Lonely, even. And I understood what lonely was like. With every chord of music I'd been thinking of my empty cell, been longing to be back on Earth, be nearer to Marcus.

My mind flitted back to the ‘breach'. Could I ask Kamuel what was going on? But Archangels are so formal. You can't just chat to them as if they're normal beings.

Kamuel graciously took a (sticky) flute of nectar and looked at me. ‘You're troubled too, I think. Does something weigh upon your spirit?'

Did it show so easily on my face? I smiled nervously. Did he know about Marcus? What if that's why he'd come to talk to me?

‘No,' I said, making a supreme effort not to let my voice tremble. ‘It's nothing.'

‘I'd like to help,' said Kamuel.

There were so many things I needed help with.

‘You remind me of someone,' he went on.

‘I do?' I said.

‘Yes,' he said, ‘Someone I loved very dearly and lost.'

‘Oh,' I said, unable to say anything else. How had he lost them? It must have been something pretty dreadful. Angels don't exactly die. (I hoped to High Heaven his friend hadn't been vaporised.)

‘I'm so sorry.'

He inclined his head, just a fraction.

‘Oh,' I said again, not wanting to pry, not wanting to ignore (but I could hardly say: did they get vaporised, could I?)

‘They fell,' he said, ‘to Earth. Fell in more ways than one.' He sat motionless. ‘And paid the price.'

We didn't get any further, which was probably just as well, because there was a loud knocking at the gate. The smell of diesel burning, of boot polish and cold metal was back. The choir stopped right in the middle of an aria. Raquel ran to the gates, looking very worried.

‘Nobody moves,' barked a gruff voice. It was so loud you'd have thought it was Judgement Day come early.

Two uniformed beings flung open the gates, ran forward, then stood to attention in full view of the crowd. The Being with the voice marched through. He was huge, and in his hand he held a long whip.

‘Archangel Jehudiel,' whispered Kamuel, ‘the Mighty and Strong Opposer of Lucifer, the General of God's Army.'

Trumpets blared, a booming clap of thunder sounded, the stars seemed to dim, some of the non-celestial beings started screaming. I shrank into the shadows of the bower. Kamuel put his arm forward and shielded me with a wing.

‘What do you want?' said Raquel, her voice shrill and scared.

‘Stand aside,' barked Jehudiel.

A tank, huge and dark, rolled through the gates. On its front a giant flame-thrower turned ominously from side to side.

Kamuel pushed me behind him so that I could hardly see out. ‘It's a platoon of God's Army,' he whispered. ‘It's the breach. The Devil has made a move on one of the Angelic Host.'

‘The Devil?' I breathed, terrified. Any sympathy I'd had immediately evaporated. I imagined a dark, squat figure with horns. His eyes gleamed red and behind him danced an army of vile demons.

‘Call your guests forward,' barked the voice.

‘Why? What are you looking for?' squeaked Raquel.

‘That was a very clear instruction. Don't make me repeat it,' snapped Jehudiel. He stood there like a preacher who'd stepped straight out of history: knee-length frock-coat, high boots, white collar, tall black hat, prominent insignia, the sacred heart and flaming crown stitched on everything – and massive wings. He cracked the whip twice as if he was not at all happy about being questioned, and there was a level of threat in his voice that I'd never heard this side of the Pearly Gates.

‘Of course,' said a subdued Raquel. ‘Please, everyone – please come into the drawing room. May we go to the drawing room?'

But no sooner had a few of the guests stepped forward than Jehudiel bellowed, ‘That's him! STOP HIM!'

A squad of God's Army marched forward. They were dressed in greatcoats belted at the waist, caps with the same insignias, armbands, breeches, boots, just like the Schutzstaffel. As I watched they broke into a charge. On the double, in paired ranks, they pounded forward with heavy tread, their boots crushing the turf of the garden. There was something so graceless about them; I shrank still further behind Kamuel's wing.