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“Halt. Your kind may not enter the Malchut of Atzilut.”
I walk back to him, brushing the sand off my coat.
“Did I get turned around? The sign said this was the way to Epcot.”
The angel drops his hands to his side. He’s a head taller than me with Josef’s chiseled übermensch cheekbones, only his hair is jet black.
“If you mean the road to Gan Eden, then yes. But you are not permitted to enter the place that God gave to man and was lost to him. This is a holy place and only the righteous shall pass through the gate.”
I get out a Malediction and light up.
“Here’s the situation. I was dead a few minutes ago and woke up a little way over those dunes. That tells me that this is where I’m supposed to be. I’m not looking to hang around and track dust all over your daffodils. All I want to know is if there’s a freight elevator or a crawl space or something? I’m trying to get to Hell.È wa Hell.&D;
He gives me his stern face, all steely eyes and smoldering passion. He could get a job as a romance-novel cover model.
“Once, only Heaven was here, but the sin of man befouled it.”
“So I can get to Hell through there?”
“Yes. The serpent brought the seeds of Hell into this place, man tended it, and here it stays like a festering wound.”
“Would you mind pointing out the scar tissue? I need to get going.”
“What matter is Eden to you? No mortal man or woman may enter.”
“How many mortal men do you get around here? Do you rent the place out for pool parties during spring break?”
The angel doesn’t say anything and his smoldering act is starting to get old. I blow smoke in his face.
“Listen up, Hawkman, I’m going in there even if I have to pluck off all your feathers and stuff you like a teddy bear.”
The angel waves the smoke away. He stretches and rubs the back of his neck. His voice rises to a normal octave and doesn’t echo anymore.
“Listen, man. It’s the end of my shift. I’m really tired and the sun’s giving me a migraine. I can’t let you in, but I don’t want to get into a whole thing about it with you. Can you just hang around and work this out with my replacement?”
“I’m in kind of a hurry.”
“He’ll be here tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“I really can’t wait.”
He sighs.
“Yeah. I figured.”
He manifests his Gladius, his angelic sword of fire, and takes a swing at my head. The attack is slow. Completely for show. Why shouldn’t it be? He’s an angel and I’m just a lost spirit who wandered in from nowhere. I manifest my own Gladius, block his blow, and cut a nice diagonal slice through his chest plate. He falls back, eyes wide.
April Fool, motherfucker.
His Gladius is on the ground, but I’m mad. He made me drop one of my last cigarettes. I move in fast and get my sword under his chin.
“What’s your name?”
“Rizoel./diC;Rizoe201D;
“Well, Rizoel, you know that I could kill you entirely here and now, right? I know fallen angels go to Tartarus when they die, but I’m not clear on what happens to nice angels. Given my natural inclinations, I’d like to slice and dice you just to see where you end up. Lucky for you there’s a little angel that lives in my head and I know he won’t shut up about it if I turn you into chum. So to sum up, this is your lucky day. Understand?”
Rizoel gives me a mininod, making sure not to let the Gladius touch his chin.
