For all you knew, I was a child like you, without any agency of my own, so you trusted me. I didn’t need a millennia of dealing with the worst humanity had to offer to know what Roger was about. I garnered your confession rather quickly, and shortly thereafter, I witnessed his depravity firsthand. Had I been in a body, I surely would have eradicated him at that very moment.
But there were rules, you see.
I told myself not to interfere. It was a slippery slope. There was so much rot in the human condition that it was difficult at times to know where to begin. Nor was it my job to right wrongs or mete out justice. As the human saying goes, those tasks were above my pay grade.
I was in the service of Azrael, Angel of Death. A reaper—no more, no less. I could get into serious trouble for meddling, not to mention that once the divine began involving themselves in human affairs, it was difficult to know when to stop. Hadn’t I made the mistake of getting too close to a human once already? That I had developed a superior level of self-control was a source of pride for me.
But you were my friend, my youngest and most vulnerable human friend, and I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.
The evening after making my discovery, your mother came to the playground to collect you for dinner. She wore a red vest over her shirt with her name tag fastened above the swell of her breast.Michelle.
I didn’t get the sense your mother was malevolent in spirit, only overworked and somewhat neglectful. I asked you for an introduction. You quirked one eyebrow at that because this contradicted my prior instructions, to keep our friendship a secret. Regardless, you pointed to the seemingly empty space beside you and said, “This is my friend, Henri.”
You were careful with my name, making sure to pronounce it precisely as I’d instructed. I was very proud of you.
Your mother looked tired and withdrawn, and a little worried as well, as she glanced from you to the spot beside you. Perhaps thinking about the economy of time and trouble in getting you home, she glanced through me and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Henri. My name’s Shelly.” She reached out her hand and pretended to shake mine.
“He’s down here, Mommy.” You pointed to my actual hand height.
She adjusted her handshake and said again that you had to get home because Roger was ready to take her to work. You glanced over at me, a spark of fear in your eyes. I felt your apprehension at what the hours ahead might entail while my rage gathered like a summer storm.
“Tell your mother I want to whisper something in her ear,” I said.
“Henri has something to tell you.” When your mother didn’t move, you motioned for her to lean in. “It’s a secret.”
“Orlando,” your mother said in a stern tone, but you grabbed her hand and pulled her down. Sighing, she turned her head in my direction.
My powers of seduction over living humans were limited in my spirit-form, but I whispered a warning that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and a shiver pass through her. Fear coupled with foreboding and an utterance ofRoger.
Keep away, keep away, keep away.A simple seduction repeated thrice.
I’d hoped my curse would convince your mother to end her relationship with the pedophile. But it seemed she was bound to Roger, either because of the stability he provided or the powers of persuasion he himself possessed.
Contrary to popular belief, reapers don’t cause death—we weren’t supposed to, anyway. I merely served as a bridge between realms. Nor did I pass judgment upon the deceased or those who caused it. But I followed the flight of those fiends who dealt in violence. And the people of my territory tended to talk. Whether it be human or demon-inspired, there was always some nefarious plot in the making. I only needed to listen closely and be ready to act.
When, just a couple of nights later, Roger was fatally shot in a robbery attempt gone wrong, I must confess I did not mourn him.
And neither did you.
2
Henri
No good deed goes unpunished. Never was that truer than in the Order of Angels.
It wasn’t long after Roger’s untimely demise that I was summoned by a Malakhim who went by the name Santiago. His territory overlapped with my own. I’d hoped my transgression would go unnoticed, but rumor of a lowly, disembodied Nephilim meddling in human affairs must have reached middle management, and they’d dispatched Santiago to correct my course.
Santiago summoned me to a cigar factory in Little Havana, a neighborhood in Miami so named for its high concentration of Cuban exiles. Santiago’s host body was a dapper young Cuban man with tobacco-colored skin, a thin mustache, and a shiny pompadour. Santiago, being a bit flamboyant himself, took great pains to dress his vessel well, taking the time to oil his mustache and perfume his skin, so that his appearance was altogether alluring. Quite the luxury.
As for me, because of a past crime, I had forsaken my original body and was not allowed to keep a regular host at my beck and call, as the Malakhim were wont to do. But I was permitted a few hours of human inhabitation from time to time, to release spiritual angst and attend summons such as these.
There were several transients roaming my territory that I could count on for a temporary possession. I was occupying the body of an older, somewhat pickled gentleman named Jed when I presented myself to Santiago for what I predicted would be a dressing down. Santiago was sporting a white blazer over a pastel pink shirt and seemed to be emulating the actor Don Johnson in the popular television seriesMiami Vice. Upon my arrival, Santiago immediately turned up his nose at my appearance and perhaps also my stench.
“Could you not find a host that hadn’t recently defecated on itself?” Santiago asked prissily while holding his embroidered handkerchief to his nose. “We do have standards to maintain.”
I plopped down rather clumsily in the seat across from him. I was new to this body, and it had been a while since I’d piloted a human vessel. My stomach growled ferociously, and I surmised Jed hadn’t eaten recently. Of all human cravings, hunger was the worst. A body couldn’t function without proper nutrition. Children who went hungry distressed me greatly.
“May I have a hamburger?” I asked Santiago, already feeling at a disadvantage. “Or a cold sandwich perhaps?”
