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Madeline turned around in his grasp, gazing into his eyes.
“You’re an angel from the kingdom of Heaven,” she stressed. “Isn’t all this… with me… I don’t know… boring?”
Remy looked deep into her inquisitive stare as she waited for his answer. She would know whether or not he was lying; it was a gift that she had.
Slowly he lowered his face down toward her, his lips eventually meeting hers. They kissed softly at first, and more eagerly soon after that.
Before leaving the roof to descend the stairs to their new home, where they made love on an old down comforter they’d used as a makeshift drop cloth, Remy broke their passion to answer her question.
“All this… you… this is Heaven,” he told her.
This is Heaven.
He emerged from the void into a darkness of a different kind, this one illuminated by a multitude of stars, twinkling in the galaxy like jewels strewn upon a covering of velvet.
Hanging in space, he found his bearings, moving through the vacuum, at last, toward his destination.
He had no idea how long he’d been gone, feeling the heart within his chest swelling in size as he beheld the planet he had so come to love hanging there, as if waiting for his return.
The angelic nature was displeased, attempting to exert dominance, to suppress the humanity that had emerged from hiding as he’d traveled the void toward Earth, growing in size and strength at the joy he had found in the recollections of being human.
There was nothing the angelic essence would have loved more than to withdraw completely, leaving him frail and unprotected in the killing coldness of space, eager for him to beg to be something more.
Remy held the reins firmly, controlling the troublesome aspect of his being as he entered the Earth’s atmosphere, the sudden friction of oxygen upon his flesh causing it to heat, threatening to burn. His body begi
The angel dropped out of the night sky u
Dropping through a thick bank of clouds, Remy emerged over the city of Boston. A smile appeared on his face and his naked flesh tingled. It had been scoured a bright red as a result of his journey. It would all heal eventually, he thought, flapping his wings furiously, pushing his speed to the maximum in order to return home. He had no idea how long he’d been gone, time moving differently in travels from one realm to the next.
He just hoped it hadn’t been too long. That he hadn’t been forgotten.
Remy soared above Faneuil Hall, Government Center, and then the golden dome of the State House on his way to Beacon Hill… to Pinckney Street.
To his home.
The rooftop of his building appeared below him, and he was suddenly overtaken with a feeling of absolute exhaustion. He swooped down from the night sky, aiming for the rooftop patio below.
As his bare feet touched down upon the blacktop, he collapsed, pitching forward, the stinging warmth of his face and body now pressed to the cool tar-paper roof.
Unconsciousness threatened to take him, but he managed to fight it, not wanting to surrender to the darkness again. He’d spent far too much time in the womb of oblivion, and would prefer not to return there.
In the distance he heard a noise, growing louder, more persistent as it came closer. It was the barking of a dog—his dog—and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard a sound so beautiful.
Marlowe was saying hurry, over and over again in the rough voice that he had. And Remy couldn’t have agreed more.
Hurry.
He heard the door to the roof open, the distinct voice of his friend speaking to the insistent animal.
“If these are friggin’ pigeons again, you’re not getting your snack tonight. You think I’m joking? Try me. If you brought me all the way up here in the middle of the freakin’ night again to…”
Marlowe knew he was there, somehow sensing his arrival.
He was a good boy, a really good boy.
The barking turned higher, almost a squeal of pain, as the dog found him. Remy could feel his excited approach. The Labrador pounced and began licking his face, his head, his shoulders, repeating his name over and over again. Remy wanted to sit up, to throw his arms around the neck of his animal friend and tell him how much he was missed, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even open his eyes.
“Jesus Christ, Remy,” he heard Mulvehill say. “I thought you were dead. When I got that phone message I didn’t know what to think… I didn’t know if you needed my help… I thought you were dead… ”
Mulvehill knelt upon the ground, and Remy’s bare skin stung as his body was gently raised, held in the arms of his friend.
Marlowe had not stopped kissing his face. It felt good, cool and sort of slimy on his tender flesh.
“Look at you,” Mulvehill said, holding his friend close. There was worry in his voice, and Remy wondered how bad he actually looked.
“You hang in there, okay?” he said. “You’re going to be fine. It’s my turn now,” Mulvehill said. “There’s no reason to be afraid… Everything is going to be all right.”
And with those words, Remy managed to crack open his eyes, staring up into the man’s worried face.
His friend was right, he thought, as he felt his eyes begin to close, eager oblivion rushing in to steal him away from this moment of happiness.
At the moment, there was no reason to be afraid; everything was going to be all right.
And as exhaustion threatened to take him, he saw his wife’s beautiful face as she again asked him the question.
Are you happy?
And he completely surrendered to the moment, taking her into his arms, the two of them drifting down, down, down into the darkness.
Yes.
EPILOGUE
It had taken him time to heal, the damage far more extensive than he would have originally believed.
Hell certainly had its dramatic effects; his shoulder still ached where he had been wounded, his flesh still peeling in places, the remaining manifestation of his angelic form sloughing off like a snake shedding its skin.
It itched like hell.
Remy stood in the foyer of Francis’ building on Newbury Street, listening to the sounds of the empty building. The fallen that had lived here were gone, leaving to go elsewhere when the passageway between this world and Hell was severed.
It is not such a bad thing, he thought, there being one less entry point from the netherworld, especially now.
The jingling of Marlowe’s collar distracted him from his musing. The dog was at the end of the hall, sniffing around an old radiator.
“What did you find?” Remy asked.
“Mouse smell,” Marlowe said, lifting his head to answer, a large wad of dust sticking to his wet black nose.
Since Remy’s return, Marlowe had become his shadow, refusing to let him out of his sight. He believed the dog had thought that he had died, leaving him like Madeline had. It would take some convincing, but he was sure that the animal would soon start to relax again.
Malowe padded down the hallway toward him.
“Want to get going?” Remy asked him, reaching out to pat his head and wiping away the dust and dirt that still clung to his nose.
“Park?” the dog asked.
Remy reviewed his day. It was Saturday, and there really wasn’t all that much pla
“Sure, I think we can squeeze in a run to the Common,” he said.
Marlowe’s tail wagged happily.
Fishing the building’s keys from his pocket, Remy noticed Marlowe now sniffing around the door that would take them down into what had been Francis’ place.