The Kiss of Angels (Divine Vampires Book 2) (9 page)

“I kind of want to be kept.” She smiled at the thought.  “But you don’t have pockets.  Think I could climb under your wing? Where do you put all those souls anyway?”

She nudged closer, exploring with her hands, the soft feel of his wings like clouds.  He laughed, rolling away from her, but taking her with him, so she was now on top, looking down into those deep, dark eyes. 

“You’re kind of naughty for an angel,” he teased. 

The light had changed while they’d been rolling around and she glanced around, realizing that the children had stopped playing with the parachute.  They were all gathered around, helping Nurse Clara fold it up. 

“Hey, look at that, the swings are free!” Muriel jumped up, running over and settling onto the seat.  Char joined her as she started to swing, watching the kids lining up.  It was clearly time to go.  There was one little boy not in line, though.  Henry wandered over to the swing set and Muriel slowed her swing—it would look strange to the humans, a swing going all by itself with no breeze at all. 

Henry looked at the swing, his blonde head cocked, and then a slow smile spread across his face. 

“Hi,” he said softly, lifting his little hand to wave. 

Muriel froze. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

Muriel glanced at Char, then back at the little boy.  Could he see them both? He hadn’t said anything to the seraphim—just to her.  Char just shrugged. 

“I’m… Muriel.” What else could she do but tell him?

“Are you an angel?”

She nodded. 

“Do you know Zeph?”

“I…” She glanced around, looking for the guardian, but he was gone. 

“Henry, sweetheart, it’s time to go.” His mother came up behind him, bending down to his level and putting her hands on his shoulders.  “We can play on the swings next time, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed amiably.  Muriel breathed a sigh of relief.  Then Henry turned back and asked, “Will I see you again next time?”

“Oh… uh…” Muriel hesitated, seeing Lucy cock her head, looking at the empty swing.  At least, she hoped all she was seeing was an empty swing!

“Say goodbye to Zeph.” Lucy smiled.  “Tell him you’ll see him next time.”

“Oh that’s not Zeph.” Henry took his mother’s outstretched hand. 

“You have another imaginary friend?” Lucy’s delicate eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“Her name is Muriel.” He smiled again, lifting his hand in a wave.  “I’ll see you next time, okay?”

“Okay.” Muriel lifted her hand, wondering if she ever would see the little boy again—wondering how he had seen her at all.  She’d never had a person see her before. 

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s time for lunch.” His mother started leading him away, but not before Henry managed to twist around and wave again.

“Bye, Muriel!” he called.

“Bye!” she dared, waving back.  “See you next time!”

Then she felt Char’s hand slip into hers as they sat together on the swings. 

“Next time?” he asked.  She looked over and saw that he had a small, secret smile on his face.  “You want to come back?”

“Yes,” she confessed.  “Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

She could have stayed there like that forever, holding hands with Char, just sitting on the swings in the slanted sunlight from the windows in the ceiling above their heads.  She might have, they both might have, but there were couples waiting to fall in love, and a call from
The Maker
startled her.  She wondered if that was how humans felt, waking from a dream. 

“I’ve got to go,” Muriel stood, reluctant, not wanting to let go of his hand.  He held on tight too, as if he felt it too.  “Same time tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.”

He finally let her go. 

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Muriel said, glancing toward the target where Ami and Barbie were taking turns shooting bullseye after bullseye.  “I promise.”

“Yeah, you said that yesterday.” Jari didn’t look over, keeping her eye on the target.  “And I had to sit at the diner all by myself for three hours.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“That’s what you said the day before yesterday too.” Jari let her arrow go, hitting the target just off center, but Barbie noticed and smirked.

“I’m sorry, Jari,” Muriel apologized again, trying to sound like she really meant it. 

Part of her did mean it, of course.  Jari had been her partner since the beginning of everything and the past week they’d been separated more than ever before, except the time they took separate vacations.  Angels got one week off every year, no calls from
The Maker
, no duties at all.  They usually spent it somewhere sunny and tropical.  But two years ago, Muriel had decided she wanted to see Alaska before it melted into the Arctic Ocean, and Jari didn’t want to spend time anywhere cold, so they’d separated for a week. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Jari muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.  “What are you two doing anyway?”

“Nothing important.” Muriel shrugged, avoiding Jari’s narrowed gaze as she lifted her bow to take aim.  She was going to have to tell her
something
.  “You know the hospital where I shot the black soul…?”

“We,
we
shot it,” Jari reminded her.  “I was there too, even if I didn’t have my eyes closed.”

“Right, that’s what I meant.” Muriel let her arrow fly.  No bullseye.  She wasn’t concentrating very hard.  Ami and Barbie had their heads together, whispering, glancing their way.  The tournament was today.  “Anyway, there’s a little boy there who can see me.”

“What?” Jari’s jaw dropped, lowering her voice.  “Muriel, that’s dangerous.”

“He’s got cancer, Jari,” she said.  “I don’t think he’s going to reveal any of our secrets.  Anyway, all the grownups think he’s just talking to his imaginary friend.”

“So you’re abandoning me to go play with a kid?”

“I’m not abandoning you,” Muriel protested, even if it was kind of true.  “It’s just that it’s his birthday…”

“Right.” Jari looked at her like she didn’t believe a word of it.  “So that’s all you’re doing? Hanging out at the hospital?”

“Well, yesterday we stopped at the park and kind of lost track of time,” Muriel confessed.  That’s all she was going to say about it, even if Jari did give her that knowing look. 

“Lost track of time?” Jari snorted.  “You were almost late to our call at the diner.  You think
The Maker
isn’t going to start noticing?”

“But I wasn’t late.” That was true, but it was also true that she had just barely made it. 

“I said almost,” Jari reminded her.  “Still, Muriel.  Angels are starting to talk.”

“What?” She looked over at Ami and Barbie, whispering behind their hands.  “What do you mean? Did you say something?”

“No, I’ve been covering for you all week!” Jari cried.  Muriel shushed her and she managed to lower her voice, glancing around at the cherubs who had turned to look at them—especially Barbie and Ami.  “But you know those two.  If they can find something, anything, to disqualify us from the tournament…”

“I’m not doing anything wrong.” Muriel said this with more confidence than she felt.  She didn’t know, exactly, if what she and Char were doing was wrong, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. 

“Look at those bows.” Jari turned her partner’s head, pointing at the tournament prizes.  They were both the latest model, even better than the ones they’d won the year before, significantly lighter and easier to balance, each with a quiver that refilled itself.  They’d all taken a turn shooting them, just to see what it was like.  Tournament winners got the latest bow models a full six months before anyone else.  “Don’t you want to win those?”

“Yes, of course.” Muriel nodded in agreement, although she’d lost her incentive to win them somewhere earlier in the week.  She pretended to Jari that it mattered, that she wanted the same things, but she didn’t.  Not anymore.  She was tired of target practice, she was tired matching up soul mates who would someday be parted, one way or another.  She didn’t want to do this anymore.  That was the truth she couldn’t tell her partner. 

“Then focus!” Jari cried.  “Please, can you focus? Just for today?”

“I will,” Muriel agreed, pressing her forehead to her partner’s.  “I swear, I will.  I’m just going to head over to the hospital for an hour.  I’ll be back in plenty of time for the opening ceremonies.  I promise.”

“Okay.” Jari took a deep breath, shaking her head.  “Just be here in time to shoot.  You know I can’t enter without you.”

“I will, Jari.” She pulled her partner into a one-armed hug.  “And we’ll win those new bows.”

She managed to walk to the exit, instead of running, trying not to draw attention to herself.  It had to be true, what Jari said.  Cherubim had to be wondering where in the world she was going.  This was the second Sunday in a row that she walked out during practice.  She was making night practices at the archery, of course—they used the range in the middle of the night on weekdays when no humans were around—so it was just Jari she was bailing on when she ran off to the hospital in the middle of the afternoon.  But she couldn’t keep doing this, could she? Not without angels starting to notice, ask questions. 

Once she was out the exit into the stairwell, Muriel was up and away, eager to already be there, to see him.  Every time they parted, she couldn’t think of anything except how much she wanted to see him again.  It felt like forever until they could be together again, even if it was less than twenty-four hours.  She’d never really understood what the term crazy meant until this week. 

Of course, she’d never quite had a week like this one before.  And she’d never met anyone like Chariel before.  He spent a lot of time at the hospital—so many people checked in and never checked out again—and that had become their meeting point every day.  Besides, Muriel was simply enamored with little Henry.  His parents came to see him every day.  They simply doted on him, indulging what they believed were his fantasies about angels as invisible friends. 

But he was actually quite a wise little boy. 

Just yesterday, he’d asked Muriel, “Are you going to take me away to heaven some day?”

She found it sweet, if a bit fantastical, that humans believed in some sort of heaven in the clouds and gave
The Maker
the name of God, believing in an old man with a long beard and flowing white robes who lived in the sky.  It was a little like the stories they made up about Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.  Or the misconceptions they had about angels and fairies. 

“No, I’m not that kind of angel,” Muriel had told him, glancing across at Char. 

“Are you that kind of angel?” Henry asked, looking at the towering angel of death. 

“I am.” Char had appeared to Henry at Muriel’s request—so she didn’t look crazy, talking to herself in front of the five-year-old. 

“So you’ll be the one who takes me to heaven.” He nodded sagely, taking a bite of his green Jell-O. 

“Yes, Henry, I will.”

Muriel hated hearing that, but she didn’t contradict him.  She knew it was the truth, at least, as far as a not-quite kindergartener could understand it. 

“Are you talking to your friend Zeph again?” Lucy had asked, glancing over at the seemingly empty chair where Muriel sat at his bedside.  Char was in the one beside her. 

“No.” Henry shook his head, digging a maraschino cherry out of his Jell-O, using his spoon like a bulldozer, complete with the noise. 

“Muriel?” Jack offered, glancing up from the book in his hand. 

“No, I’m talking to Char,” Henry replied with a frustrated sigh.  Muriel couldn’t help her smile.  He acted like the adults around him just couldn’t keep up.  “He’s the angel of death.”

“The… what?” Jack put his book down, meeting his wife’s alarmed gaze. 

“He’s going to take me to heaven one day.” Henry had sucked the cherry off his spoon, chewing noisily. 

Muriel had seen the panicked look in Lucy’s eyes, the beginning of tears there as she leaned down to kiss her son on the top of his head. 

“No one’s going to heaven for a long, long time, sweetheart,” she murmured.  “Now, let’s eat the rest of our lunch and stop all this talk about going to heaven.”

“Listen to your mom, Henry,” Muriel had told him with a smile, standing to go.  “We’ll be back to see you soon.”

She had promised Jari she’d be back in an hour and she’d left her waiting more than once that week already.  She’d fully intended to get back on time yesterday, but they’d gotten waylaid.  It was her fault.  She’d been the one to ask, as they were walking hand in hand down the corridor. 

“Where do you take them?” It was a question she’d always wondered, and while she knew death wasn’t the end for a human soul—they were eternal, if not immortal—she had no idea how it all worked. 

The Maker
was stingy with that sort of information.  Most information was on a need-to-know basis, and she was a cherubim, not a seraphim.  She didn’t need to know what happened after humans died, she just needed to know when and where
The Maker
wanted to join them, however briefly.  But Char knew.  He had collected two souls just in the hour they’d been together that afternoon, tucking them under his wing. 

“Do you want to see?” he’d asked, squeezing her hand as they turned a corner.  The hospital’s hallways had already become quite familiar to her.  “I can take you there.”

She’d hesitated only a moment.  “Yes.”

So the story about the park hadn’t exactly been the full truth.  They had gone through the park, and there was a pond covered in ice.  But they hadn’t stopped there. 

Char had taken her in his arms beside the ocean of souls, folding her into his wings, now devoid of the orbs he’d let her set afloat on the shore.  It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, a sea of gold, like a constant reflection of a sunset on the water.  But it wasn’t water at all.  It was essence, life force, returned to its source. 

Muriel went through the emergency entrance when she arrived at the hospital, remembering their conversation as they stood together, awash in the light, the reflection of millions of souls in their eyes. 

“Everything longs for union,” Char had told her. 

“Even us?” She had lifted her face to look at him, searching.  “Char… am I supposed to be here?”

“I want you here.” He had touched her cheek.  “I want you with me.”

“What are we doing?” She’d sighed. 

“Being.”

And it had been so good, being with him.  Like nothing she’d ever experienced before.