Scission<\/em>.<\/p>\nShe\u2019d never forget \u2013 never let him move on. Some scripts were doomed to be re-enacted, dances waltzed through time. He already felt tired, which meant she had succeeded in her first attack on his defences.<\/p>\n
The waiter walked past three tables where people sat alone. The table she had chosen was near the back for privacy\u2019s sake, yet raised on a dais, so that the view was uninterrupted through the solid wall of windows that curved around the restaurant.<\/p>\n
She looked up, and both men gave a sharp intake of breath. Her skin was olive-coloured, with a hint of cocoa, her eyes so dark they might have been violet. Her hair was a curtain of raven, the sheen made you want to touch it to believe it was real. She wore a summer dress the colour of burning autumn leaves that hugged every curve, to her advantage. There was a glow about her of pure confidence, danger and sex appeal. She had a daiquiri in hand and was sipping at it, the ridiculous umbrella bopping as she looked up and saw the tall man. Her smile was as bright as the window behind them.<\/p>\n
She stood up, and the grace of her movements brought another shudder from the perspiring waiter. \u201cYour table, sir. I\u2019ll give you a minute to decide on drinks,\u201d he stammered, then reluctantly walked away to join the huddle of waiters all lounging nearby, trying to make their obvious stares anything but.<\/p>\n
Her eyes looked up into his, and the energy between the two seemed to hold the restaurant in thrall. He discovered that his hands were shaking as they took hers. She\u2019d always had this effect on him \u2013 on anyone really.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you impressed?\u201d she whispered, the curve of her smile and upraised eyes toying with his resolution.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re early,\u201d he replied, and had to clear his throat.<\/p>\n
Her smile curved upwards. \u201cMaybe I missed you. Maybe I thought, this time round, I\u2019d make an effort. Does it impress?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve never fallen short of impressing anyone.\u201d He paused. \u201cAnd what do I call you this time?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her smile lost some of its lustre. They were still standing. \u201cOh, you\u2019re so boring. Why break the moment with an inane question like that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know me. I\u2019m a traditionalist.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think you love being human a little too much, love the labels.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNames are power.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do I call you, then?\u201d Her breath carried the scent of cherry blossoms, and the heat of her body was all over him, trying to find a way in. Her fingers played with his. \u201cI see you have no wedding ring.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is only you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe universe is so big. You haven\u2019t been looking hard enough.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWith you in it, why should I look elsewhere?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFlatterer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou look lovely, by the way. But then, you always do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you, kind sir.\u201d And for all her power and strength, he could see that he had pleased her. It broke his heart a little more. He knew they could never be together again.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlright, then. I\u2019ll go first. Just for the record, and the rules. Miranda. And you are?\u201d She had taken possession of his hand again.<\/p>\n
\u201cJeff.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, come on! Of all the names in the world!\u201d She sat first, the same graceful movement. He plonked his long frame into the chair opposite her. He noted an empty daiquiri glass standing to one side; the one she was now sipping from was in front of her. \u201cLow marks for imagination, Jeff<\/em>.\u00a0 How American of you. The alcoholic in the White House will be so thrilled!\u201d<\/p>\nHe did not rise to the bait, but instead lifted the wine list to peruse. Behind him, the first group of businessmen came swaggering in, some on their cell phones, others talking rugby. One or two in the group called a \u2018Howzit\u2019 and winked to the two youngest waitresses. A man in a suit of blue silk lifted his eyes from his conversation for a moment, and staggered to a halt, his conversation forgotten. Miranda smiled a secret smile at him. Then turned her attention back to the old man.<\/p>\n
\u201cFans of yours?\u201d the old man asked politely.<\/p>\n
\u201cCould be,\u201d she returned, and sipped the daiquiri, enjoying the discussion that was still going on near the window on her account. \u201cBut we\u2019re not here to discuss business, are we?\u201d<\/p>\n
The waiter suddenly reappeared. He had wiped his forehead free of perspiration. \u201cAre you ready to order, sir?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, thank you. I\u2019d like a bottle of red. Graham Beck.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd only from the vine, never the vein,\u201d she said, and giggled at her own joke. The waiter raised an eyebrow, his hand poised over the note pad. \u201cImagine drinking your own son\u2019s blood! Two sins in one: filicide and cannibalism! What a pickle!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGraham Beck, Merlot. Any year is fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
The waiter left, trying not to stare, only for a different reason this time.<\/p>\n
\u201cMiranda.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2018Yes, Jeff?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBreaking a rule isn\u2019t going to do either of us much good. You have to behave, and not step out of any bounds. That is part of the agreement.\u201d<\/p>\n
She made a movement with her hand, like a puppet speaking. \u201cBlah, blah, blah. That is why we have these nice minders all over. To make sure I colour inside the lines.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI noticed when I came in. Some are friends of yours\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd some of friends of yours. That table over there. The old lady looking lost and so<\/em> not part of the scene, is a dead giveaway.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cWell, subtlety doesn\u2019t run strongly in your people either. Who does that man over there in the spiked hair think he is? Beelzebub?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEveryone needs a hobby.\u201d She said this with real fondness in her voice. The silhouette of a man with four flies tied to his shirt collar showed against the bright light through the windows \u201cAh, see. That is why we need minders and rules. Just like old times, Jeff. Wouldn\u2019t you agree? Us arguing over a nice meal. Oh, what\u2019s the matter now? Don\u2019t you like this place I chose for us?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve never liked any of the places you\u2019ve chosen for us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell at least it isn\u2019t on top of a mountain in Tibet. To me that smacks of bragging, and pride is the first deadly sin, may I remind you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll I\u2019m saying is, it\u2019s far more peaceful than the Spanish Inquisition.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t look at me. I just wanted to appreciate all your creations, not just mountains.\u201d<\/p>\n
He took a deep breath and exhaled. The lines on his face were a little deeper than when she had last seen him. She didn\u2019t mean to dig at him so much, but they always brought out the best and the worst of each other.<\/p>\n
They remained silent until Kenny returned with the bottle of Graham Beck. He poured, Jeff sipped, approved, and his glass was filled. Kenny hovered. \u201cEr\u2026are youse going to have starters? Or just go for the carvery?\u201d His thick Afrikaans accent grated over the English words.<\/p>\n
\u201cHmmm. Well that all depends on whether Jeff<\/em> here is going to be interesting company. We may do seven courses, or just a quick meal. What do you say, Jeff?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cI\u2019ll have a starter please. The calamari and salad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnother of these,\u201d she purred, holding up her daiquiri.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo!\u201d she said, leaning forward so that he could get the best view of her cleavage. \u201cWhat is it going to be first, sex, religion or politics? Because let\u2019s face it, nothing else is worth talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI find it hard to imagine that after all these years, you\u2019re still bitter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMe? Bitter! About what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout us.\u201d He sipped his wine, and watched her face in that way that had always frightened her. He wouldn\u2019t dare cheat and go against the rules, but she sometimes wondered how much he knew what she was thinking. Even in these human suits, he had an unpleasant way of seeing through her carefully constructed armour. \u201cThe venue alone is a start.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cScission<\/em>?\u201d She threw her pretty hair back and laughed, eliciting worshipful glances from the table of businessmen. He continued to watch her. \u201cThat\u2019s really amusing.\u201d She threw her carefully manicured hand out as if dealing cards, indicating the two of them, \u201cThat would be like saying Hitler had a small disliking for Jews. Are you saying your first clue was the name of this restaurant? Are you really that dense? Because there are more\u2026obvious reasons why you and I find ourselves where we are now.\u201d Her eyes darkened for a moment, like pools of black smoke. \u201cI despair, I really do.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cI only ask, because each time we do one of these\u2026\u201d It was his turn to deal an invisible hand of cards. \u201cI always hope you\u2019ve moved on.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHoney,\u201d she said, leaning forward, and catching his hand in mid-air. She kissed the back of his knuckles with her soft, full lips, and the sensation rippled up his arm. \u201cIf I stopped being bitter, you\u2019d be the first to know.\u201d She ended with a whisper. A part of him \u2013 the part that would always be in love, as well as lust, with her \u2013 took a moment to reflect that it was these kinds of tactics she used each time they met. It had almost led to a disaster in a cheap motel more than once.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not doing that again, Miranda,\u201d he said in a tight voice, and removed his hand from hers.<\/p>\n
\u201cDoing what, sweetness? Doing what you crave and want?\u201d Her eyes looked through lashes as soft and large as palm leaf shadows. \u201cScission \u2013 the act of cutting or dividing \u2013 a split. Yes, maybe I chose this restaurant in this area of Johannesburg because I knew just how much you\u2019d understand\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI understand how hurt you are. After all this time\u2026I am sorry\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShut your mouth and keep your pity away from me! I need neither!\u201d she suddenly spat.<\/p>\n
She sat back, and he saw her blink a little too rapidly. Kenny reappeared, his brow soaked again. He handed the daiquiri to her as carefully as he could, and she touched his hand in the briefest of moments.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour boss is ripping you off. He pockets the tips,\u201d she said, and the young man\u2019s eyes clouded for a moment. \u201cI thought you should know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMiranda\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d Her smile as innocent as an altar boy\u2019s. Kenny looked as if he\u2019d been hit hard in the solar plexus as he walked away, stiff and taut. \u201cI\u2019m righting a wrong. You should be proud.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRules,\u201d he growled.<\/p>\n
She heaved her bosom in a deep sigh. \u201cAre you going to be this\u2026principly<\/em> all day?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cAre you going to misbehave all day?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that an invitation, Jeff<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/05\/divider.jpg\" "\\"divider\\"")
<\/p>\n
2.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere must be some mistake. I didn\u2019t order this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is from the gentleman at the window.\u201d The waiter\u2019s face pleaded that she accept the drink. She sighed, and nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cMuch appreciated.\u201d She squinted over the waiter\u2019s shoulder towards the young man with the flies tied to the lapels of his jacket. The man\u2019s face was hidden by the light of the windows behind him, but she spied the flash of a smile. She lifted the whiskey and sipped with pleasure. After a few moments her eyes moved over the table of businessmen, back to the focus of her attention: the couple at table six.<\/p>\n
\u201cThought I\u2019d introduce myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nearly knocked the entire glass over. The buzzing of flies filled her ears. \u201cOh my\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDidn\u2019t mean to startle you.\u201d His voice was low, pleasant and American.<\/p>\n
Like hell you didn\u2019t<\/em>, she thought, and turned her most radiant smile up at him. \u201cJust nerves. It\u2019s the occasion, I\u2019m sure.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cBuster Leebs at your service.\u201d He held out his hand. It was the smoothest hand she\u2019d ever seen. Like a suit that had never been worn,<\/em> she thought. \u201cThese little guys are\u2026\u201d the smooth finger pointed to each fly in turn. \u201cAzrael, Michael, Gabriel and Raphael.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cInteresting.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd let me guess: Joan of Arc? Mother Teresa?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou flatter me \u2013 just call me Marleen\u2026well, you may as well sit down. It looks like they,\u201d she pointed with her chin towards the tall black man and the curvy brunette, \u201caren\u2019t going anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThem\u2019s the rules,\u201d he agreed, sitting down. \u201cWell, this is cozy, ain\u2019t it? Can\u2019t say I\u2019ve had much occasion to sit with…\u201d He seemed to lose his words.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo this is your first assignment, then?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYep.\u201d His face clouded nostalgically. \u201cReminds me of the Cold War years, you know. Just two fellows shootin\u2019 the breeze, a momentary truce where KGB and CIA meet at the same little East Berlin pub to discuss\u2026\u201d He waved his hand vaguely, missing Azrael or maybe Michael, \u201c\u2026I don\u2019t know, women, life, the price of oil. You name it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut never shop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNah. Well\u2026sometimes\u2026especially if you were \u2018running\u2019 an agent, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA turncoat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose.\u201d Both of them turned to stare at the couple. \u201cYou think they\u2019ll\u2013?\u201d he began.<\/p>\n
\u201cUnlikely.\u201d Her answer was sharp enough to cut him, and he lifted a smooth fingertip to his mouth and sucked on it.<\/p>\n
Her face filled with surprise. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I didn\u2019t mean… Please let me\u2013\u201d she reached forward, and suddenly the buzzing of the flies became so loud in her ears that she fell back in her seat, her skin paling, her hands clutching her ears.<\/p>\n
\u201cDown, boys!\u201d Buster chided, but he wore a sly smile on his tanned face. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t come any closer\u2026you\u2019ve obviously upset them.\u201d He pulled his finger away from his lips, and examine the near-invisible slash of blood near the fingernail. \u201cPaper cuts, so tiny\u2026you know there is a form of torture in hell involving paper cuts?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAgain, I apologise\u2013\u201d she began. \u201cIf there is anything I can do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing a Band-Aid won\u2019t take care of.\u201d<\/p>\n
What happened next made Marleen forget all about the old man and the woman at table six. Each of the flies landed on the man\u2019s finger tip, as he held it up, like a tiny landing strip, and she watched as the flies went about their business of hoovering the blood, each proboscis working hard. Green abdomens flashed emerald in the afternoon light; blue abdomens like the blue eyes of a lost lover. The man smiled lovingly at them. \u201cThere,\u201d he said, after an eternity of silence. \u201cAll better now.\u201d<\/p>\n
The table of businessmen exploded into confident, testosterone-filled laughter. One of them \u2013 the man in the blue silk suit sans<\/em> jacket \u2013 stood up, his white shirt stained with liquor and sauce, red in the face. Marleen watched Buster untie one of the flies from his lapel, and hold onto the fine thread as he brought the fly towards his mouth. He whispered something, and the fly took off, trailing its thread like an afterthought.<\/p>\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing,\u201d he said innocently, as they both watched the fat businessman weave his way towards the men\u2019s toilet. He paused for a moment, taking in an eyeful of the beautiful brunette\u2019s breasts, whilst the fly tagged itself onto his shirt collar. Then both man and fly disappeared through the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, it was good meeting you,\u201d Buster said, standing up. \u201cI\u2019m sure you\u2019ll agree that sitting in close proximity to one another doesn\u2019t really help pass the time quickly. Just thought I\u2019d be polite and pay my respects.\u201d He walked back towards his table by the window, one fly short of an archangel set.<\/p>\n
Marleen frowned for a moment, and then looked down at her arm. A few blisters were forming on the back of her hand.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
3.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t drink so much.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you shouldn\u2019t preach so much,\u201d she said, draining her glass and holding it up, summoning the waiter. \u201cYou worried I\u2019m going to drive home drunk? I don\u2019t have to drive \u2013 there\u2019s a perfectly good hotel nearby\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
The old man sighed.<\/p>\n
\u201cAh, Kenneth. Could you get me another? Looks like we won\u2019t be lasting till dessert at this rate.\u201d Her eyes held the old man\u2019s. \u201cJeff is such a bore.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kenny\u2019s face was pale, with an unhealthy sheen. As he turned from the table, the old man touched his elbow. The waiter\u2019s face was a study in misery. The old man knew too that the misery would eventually turn itself into a dirty hatred. Some of the tension drained from his face, like colour from a painting.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t be angry, Kenneth. Your boss will never take from you again. Let it go.\u201d He said this all with the warm reassurance of a grandfather. Tears of gratitude sprung into the young man\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cPromise?\u201d his voice croaked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never lie,\u201d the old man said.<\/p>\n
The waiter walked away, this time a little slower, as if in a dream.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo much for following the rules.\u201d Miranda\u2019s hand touched his, and he felt that electrical charge. \u201cYou see how easy it is? No harm, no foul. A little guidance here, a little nudge there.\u201d Her fingertips continued to trace the back of his hand. \u201cThe best intentions\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
4.<\/p>\n
Marleen took out an ancient-looking cell phone and began to play Snake. The whiskey in her glass was all but finished, and as her eyes kept roaming over to table six, she felt a slight twinge of annoyance. Unlike the young man with the flies behind her, this was not her first time. This wasn\u2019t even her tenth assignment. Her outward plainness and other-worldly wisdom drew little attention, which was what was required for the job. The fact that there was a man with flies tied to his lapels told her all she needed to know of how amateurish an outfit They<\/em> had become.<\/p>\nWith a sinking heart she watched her charge soften and fall into the honey trap set for him. Yes, it wouldn\u2019t be the end of the world if these two were heading down the path they seemed to be heading towards. And Lord knows, it will do him a whole lot of good<\/em>, she thought to herself. Clear out some of the fuzziness that had set in over the last few centuries. The world itself was a reflection of this.<\/p>\nBut it still irked her no end to watch Her reel him in. Kind of like watching your father end up drunk at your prom night, kissing a cheerleader.<\/em><\/p>\nShe drew the plain shawl around her shoulders. The businessmen were well into their cups \u2013 none would be going back to the office today. The young man who called himself Buster in that drawling American accent was sitting reading a magazine, every now and then allowing one or two of his pets to feed on his paper cut. On my cut, I gave him that. Damn near crossed a line<\/em>, she thought, shuddering. But that was over.<\/p>\nSo that left one more customer.<\/p>\n
She allowed herself to turn her head, and to try and look askance at him. Unlike the rest of Scission<\/em>\u2019s customers, he had positioned himself in a corner, away from the light. He had chosen for himself an assassin\u2019s chair. Had it been her imagination or had she felt a ripple from that corner the moment she had lashed out unintentionally at Buster Leebs? No. No accident. He was here for that reason \u2013 to observe the chaperones. To make sure no interference happened. No paper cuts were inflicted.<\/p>\nShe reached 196 points before succumbing to the game.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
5.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere\u2019s Riaan?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI r\u2019know! He was taking a leak.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJirre, he\u2019s been gone for ten minutes. How much did he drink?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll go check. Maybe he\u2019s catching forty winks.\u201d<\/p>\n
This brought laughter to the table. Marten got up and weaved his enormous bulk through the restaurant towards the men\u2019s room. He caught a glimpse of the pretty stukkie<\/em> that sat provocatively talking to the darkie. Why a looker like that would prefer chocolate over good boere steak, was beyond Marten. It didn\u2019t necessarily upset him, as he was looking forward to his own rendezvouslater in room 235 with a certain lady with whom he had a long-standing arrangement. He felt himself harden in happy anticipation: the really funny thing was, she was a darkie too. What would his wife think if she ever\u2013?<\/p>\n\u201cRiaan? Are you dead?\u201d he asked, stepping into the yellow light with the air-con blasting away overhead. The oval basins stood in a row to his right, the mirrors showing open stalls except for one right at the end. Marten made his way towards the urinals. May as well make his own pit stop whilst he checked his buddy was cool. \u201cHey, Riaan. The boys are waiting! It\u2019s your round! Hope you haven\u2019t passed out or anything?\u201d He felt sweet relief as he emptied his bladder over the strange pink cubes in the urinal. \u201cHey Riaan! Word wakker<\/em>! Catch a wake-up! You okay?\u201d<\/p>\nA toilet flushed from behind the door of the last stall.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll take that as a yes,\u201d he said, zipping up. He heard footsteps behind him. Some alarm \u2013 a vague sense of unease \u2013 pinged in his alcohol-fuzzed brain, but mostly he was still filled with the prospect of Thandi later tonight. \u201cSo, ready\u2013\u201d But at that moment, Marten Van Wyk lost all ability to speak \u2013 in fact, he would never speak again. And Thandi would be a lonely woman come seven o\u2019clock that evening.<\/p>\n
The mirrors on the wall bisected the image of the thing that had once been Riaan Van der Vyver. Insect legs, with serrated black edges like barbed wire, had sprouted from bleeding holes in Riaan\u2019s body. They carried him along, tottering beneath his enormous head, which had blown up, purple and swollen, with tumourous lumps all over what had once been his smooth, bald pate. His one human eye peered bleakly at Marten with pain and suffering. The other eye, stretched outwards, with bubbles of more eyes growing beneath it \u2013 looked on him with cold indifference. Riaan\u2019s human legs hung like useless growths, not even touching the tiled floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cMhaaaarrrten\u2013\u201d Riaan\u2019s mouth \u2013 his normal mouth \u2013 tried to say, when suddenly a gaping hole below his chin, where his Adam\u2019s apple would have been, stretched open, revealing a red maw, and an entirely different voice filled the men\u2019s toilet. \u201cYour time is at hand!\u201d it hissed. \u201cDon\u2019t you know that in God\u2019s great plan, slugs, bottom feeders and worms hold open the doors to hell?\u201d<\/p>\n
Marten opened his own mouth to scream before his face was sprayed across the mirrors in an angry Jackson Pollock canvas.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
6.<\/p>\n
The Graham Beck stood half empty as Jeff drained another glass.<\/p>\n
\u201cI see you\u2019re getting into the spirit of the occasion.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, neither of us is going anywhere\u2026\u201d he hiccupped. \u201cExcuse me.\u201d<\/p>\n
She giggled like a little girl. \u201cI love it! You are so\u2026so human!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cQuiet.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t blush, it\u2019s true! Hiccupping!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI sometimes forget, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell\u2026it\u2019s endearing. Makes you less of a stuffed shirt\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
It was her turn to observe how this comment had pleased him. Such little things matter<\/em>, she found herself thinking, as she watched the way his neck moved above his clean, white-collared shirt. Not bad looking, all things considered. She thought that maybe he\u2019d made an effort this time around.<\/p>\n\u201cWhat are you smiling at now?\u201d he asked. \u201cI seem to amuse you to no end.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust remembering some of the old times\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
He raised an eyebrow. \u201cLike?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLike when you showed up as a street vagrant in Rome\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you showed up as the wife of a Prefect.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHardly a way to keep ourselves from being noticed. You gave me fleas.\u201d<\/p>\n
He rubbed a long-fingered hand over his bald head. \u201cThat was before Pompeii\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
Her hand reached out and lifted his chin.<\/p>\n
Their eyes locked, and in hers he found his will deteriorating. \u201cIt was one of my favourite times\u2026we made love all day, and when you climaxed\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMiranda \u2013 you can\u2019t say these things\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut why not? What else do we have to get us through the next twenty-four hours?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, Vesuvius was reason enough not to\u2026to do anything,\u201d he finished, feeling his shirt stick to his back. \u201cWe killed innocents.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe kill innocent people every day,\u201d came her response. \u201cYou know this. It has always been.\u201d<\/p>\n
He dropped his head away from her hand, breaking the spell. \u201cThis universe is like a wind-up toy, Miranda. Once it\u2019s wound up\u2026it just goes and goes, and there is no telling where it will end.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLike people,\u201d she said, her eyes skipping past the businessmen (who seemed to be a few short in number), towards the pious-looking woman beyond them. \u201cLet\u2019s ditch the chaperones. What do you say?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head, but it was a weak response \u2013 more a reflex action. \u201cI\u2019m tired, Miranda.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can keep you safe. Your shoulders are broad \u2013 but even broad shoulders grow weary.\u201d She felt the desire building in him \u2013 it happened every time. Why he insisted on playing it straight when sooner or later their attraction alone was enough to light up a city…<\/p>\n
She decided to seize her moment, and stood up. Immediately, all chatter around the restaurant ceased. Waiters, chaperones, businessmen, even the cleaner near the TV, had all paused in what they were doing or saying.<\/p>\n
She held out her hand, knowing he knew it was there without lifting his head.<\/p>\n
The restaurant waited. The clockworks of the universe slowed for a moment.<\/p>\n
He put his mahogany hand in hers, and stood up. They walked out of the restaurant together, and no one said or did anything.<\/p>\n
Not until a scream came from the men\u2019s room.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
7.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is nice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNice? That\u2019s not very complimentary.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you\u2019re talking about what we just did \u2013 that was phenomenal \u2013 but lying here, feeling safe\u2026it\u2019s nice.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
8.<\/p>\n
Two waiters disappeared into the men\u2019s bathroom, answering the siren wail of one of their own. The woman Marleen paid them little attention. She turned around, feeling all the hairs standing up on her neck and arms as she looked at the man who called himself Buster Leebs.<\/p>\n
His eyes found hers, and his smile was as flat and humourless as light on a blade.<\/p>\n
He stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked his paper cut. His three remaining flies were orbiting his head like planets.<\/p>\n
A strong sense of foreboding sank into her heart as she stood and said, \u201cWhat have you done?\u201d<\/p>\n
He continued to smile at her, saying nothing. She had thought him an amateur, but now it seemed she had been wrong. Was it his spy skill to appear harmless coming through? Who had put him up to this? Her eyes flicked to the darkest corner in the restaurant. Surely\u2013<\/p>\n
But the corner was empty.<\/p>\n
Her foreboding shifted to fear for the first time. \u201cWhat have you done?\u201d she repeated.<\/p>\n
Behind her a waiter was running, calling out to another, \u201cPhone the police, for fuck\u2019s sake, call the cops, quickly! And an ambulance!\u201d<\/p>\n
He finally stood up and said; \u201cThe doors of hell are held open by the scum-sucking, the bottom feeders and the corrupt. What better place\u2026\u201d He raised his arms to encompass the view of Johannesburg behind him, taking in Sandton City and the Michaelangelo hotel. \u201cWhat better place to go knocking?\u201d And then one of the businessmen who had had followed the throng into the toilet came stumbling out, vomiting fresh crayfish and vodka all over the smooth tiles of the restaurant. It looked like pink detergent. One of the waiters went slipping in it, and ended up winded by a table in his midriff.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is against the rules,\u201d she said, and now she felt the anger \u2013 white, righteous anger \u2013 building up, finally filling the hole left by the fear. She felt her skin itch with fire, and her eyes prickle madly with the blaze. Mr Leebs took a hesitant step backwards towards the open vista of glass.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe blood sacrifice has been made. You can\u2019t\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo I can\u2019t,\u201d she agreed. \u201cBut you\u2019ve already opened that door.\u201d<\/p>\n
She took a step towards him as he continued his backward progression. She felt her hands heating with white fire. She did not hear the screams and the panic from the other customers around her, the chairs overturning, the glass breaking. They were all scrambling. Buster Leebs\u2019 eyes widened to two round windows of blue.<\/p>\n
\u201cWait! Please! Don\u2019t do this!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is done,\u201d she said, in a voice that was her own. Not the glove of the human shell she wore. \u201cBy the power of the first Power. I order you to stand!\u201d she said, moving over the cowering cleaner who had dropped where he was, knocking over his SLIPPERY WHEN WET sign. The TV bolted against the wall imploded like a popped eyeball. Then the art deco light fixtures exploded, adding to the chaos. \u201cStand!\u201d Her voice rose, and now he had his hands up and she saw, stark in the relief of the bright day behind him, the crisscross markings of scars on his palms. Saw how the flies tied to his shirt circled him as if to protect him. She smelt the burning in her nostrils, the electrical charge. His back fetched up against the glass wall, and he stood.<\/p>\n
She raised her hands, palms blazing white, arms shaking. Pieces of her clothes were burning. She was beautiful and terrible. Her eyes were a gold colour. She moved to touch him. He began to scream an inhuman scream.<\/p>\n
And then she saw\u2026<\/p>\n
She saw in Buster Leebs\u2019 eyes all she needed to know about what was behind her, as it<\/em> approached, throwing its long shadow against the wall to her right.<\/p>\n\u201cMy Lord\u2013\u201d he began, his fear sliding off his face like a mask. Beneath was that same flat, sly regard. \u201cYou\u2019ve come.\u201d<\/p>\n
Reflected in the glass, superimposed over the city of Johannesburg like a portent, the black, shambling form came, pushing chairs and tables out of its way, its large furry legs and bulbous head\u2026at its centre, Marleen could see the unfortunate soul it had chosen to come through. She finally turned around, and saw that the man was still alive.<\/p>\n
\u201cKill\u2026me,\u201d he managed, before the second mouth at his throat interrupted.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho dares?\u201d it asked in a wet voice, as fangs jutted from the businessman\u2019s throat. His loose tie flapped like a long, purple tongue. \u201cWho dares?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI dare,\u201d she said, but now there was more than fear. She was terrified. She swallowed hard as she watched the approaching monstrosity. \u201cAnd I know you.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
9.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are insatiable! Who knew?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt has been a while\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWay too long\u2026Don\u2019t you wish it could stay like this?\u201d<\/p>\n
He sighed. \u201cBut it\u2019s not real\u2026is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
There was suddenly a knock on the hotel door.<\/p>\n
\u201cMerde!<\/em>\u201d she swore. \u201cWhat\u2019s the point in hanging up a DO NOT DISTURB sign?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cRelax. I\u2019ll get it. Maybe it\u2019s room service.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen did either of us have time to order room service?\u201d<\/p>\n
His tall silhouette disappeared into the late afternoon gloom to unlatch the door\u2019s golden chain. \u201cYes?\u201d she heard him say. She sat up in bed, suddenly sure it wasn\u2019t room service.<\/p>\n
She wasn\u2019t disappointed.<\/p>\n
A man\u2019s voice said something. He answered. The chain rattled and he returned, discarding the hotel\u2019s white towel onto a chair. He pulled on trousers, and his shirt.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t have to ask what was going on when she saw the man who had followed Jeff into the bedroom.<\/p>\n
He nodded. It was with such deep respect and humility that the words she had ready to fire at him for this intrusion \u2013 this audacity \u2013 died on her lips. She nodded back.<\/p>\n
\u201cI suggest you get dressed, Miranda,\u201d came her lover\u2019s voice. \u201cSomething has happened. At Scission.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\nShe already knew. Otherwise this silent, dark figure wouldn\u2019t be standing in the bedroom doorway. She pulled the sheet off the bed, padded over to her discarded dress, picked up the trail of underwear \u2013 like Gretel trying to retrace breadcrumbs. The bathroom door shut behind her.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
10.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe must get out of the building, quickly,\u201d the dark figure said. Only his eyes were discernable, as if the shadows had left that part of him alone. The rest was all liquid black. \u201cThe hotel is not safe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about Scission<\/em>? The people need help.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cWe\u2019ve dispatched a unit. We already know who the culprit is. They\u2019ve opened a door.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jeff looked down at Miranda. \u201cOne of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared back defiantly, but said nothing. An apology at this point would have sounded empty. She wasn\u2019t sorry.<\/p>\n
She wasn\u2019t thrilled about it, either.<\/p>\n
As if to underscore her turbulent thoughts, they passed through the lift lobby with the sun setting over the city of gold through a bay window. Above the orange ball of fire, like a spray of diamonds, the long tail of MacNaugh\u2019s comet flew. She turned away from it, and saw that he was looking at it too. Her heart broke a little more at the sadness in his face.<\/p>\n
The time between \u2013 a lifetime of lifetimes<\/em> he had written to her \u2013 when? Mesopotamia?<\/p>\n\u201cThe stairs. I don\u2019t trust lifts,\u201d the shadow said, casting a glance over his shoulder. His eyes were the colour of a Bengal tiger.<\/p>\n
All the Israelites saw pass their doors was a dark shape of a man \u2013 but the Egyptian\u2019s first born saw those golden eyes in the night<\/em>\u2026she pulled her shawl tighter as they took the stairs.<\/p>\n\u201cMy Pradas\u2013\u201d she said, bending to take them off.<\/p>\n
\u201cClassical reference?\u201d he asked, eyebrow cocked playfully. She loved him more for trying to make light of everything.<\/p>\n
Once she was barefoot they made good time, taking the stairs quickly. The liquid shadow in front spoke into his wrist in a language she did not understand. Yet it was a language she had once known.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t get lost,\u201d came Jeff\u2019s voice, and she realised she had fallen behind. His hand was held out to her as they continued down the flights of stairs. Emergency exit signs and fire escape drill signs passed in a blur.<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce was enough,\u201d she panted \u2013 panted because that\u2019s what was expected.<\/p>\n
This time he turned his radiant smile full on her, and she stumbled, feeling her knees give way.<\/p>\n
Careful with that smile, Mister. You got a licence for it?<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cNow you\u2019re teasing me. You never pass up an opportunity to have a go at me. Not for one second.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf I did \u2013\u201d she began.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you did…maybe things would be different.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe is the worst teasing of all…can\u2019t hang your coat on a maybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
Both became aware of the shadow at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes shining amber. \u201cIt will be nightfall soon.\u201d<\/p>\n
She sighed. \u201cDon\u2019t remind me.\u201d<\/p>\n
They followed, moving quickly through another lobby and outside towards a waiting car, its exhaust burning white smoke in the deep dusk light: the driver a film noir<\/em> villain with a cigarette.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
11.<\/p>\n
Marleen thought calmly: As chaperones go, we didn\u2019t do a very good job<\/em>.<\/p>\nBeneath her sensible shoe (the other had taken a tumble twenty stories down) people continued about their sunset trip home after another long day of making money and driving the economy. The main roads of Sandton were full of gleaming cars.<\/p>\n
She tried to turn to face the creature, whose long, black, serrated, hairy arm held her suspended over the traffic. One of the glass panes was broken in a jagged star roughly the size of a person. The creature\u2019s bulbous head with its many eyes peered indifferently at her through the hole. The rest of the wall of glass reflected the spectacular view of the sunset \u2013 strips of a gold and purple sky and Johannesburg \u2013 like a cut-out of building silhouettes. She even had a moment to appreciate the effect of her looking like she was standing on top of the city. The long tail of the McNaugh comet curved across the approaching evening sky, reflected in the bulbous purple eyes that peered at her with murderous intent.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou cannot destroy me,\u201d she gasped, feeling the furry rope-like texture of its leg tighten its grip around her throat.<\/p>\n
It suddenly pushed its whole head through the glass, breaking the city\u2019s reflection into a million pieces. Shards fell to earth. The half-dead businessman, somehow still alive, groaned, his own human legs hanging over the long drop.<\/p>\n
\u201cI am a Lord of Hell\u2026and it will give me great pleasure to destroy an insect like you,\u201d said the mouth in the dying man\u2019s neck.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think you\u2019re confusing who the insect is here, Azazael.\u201d<\/p>\n
The half-dead man\u2019s throat widened \u2013 the tendons stretching, fresh blood trickling as the thing smiled. \u201cLook down.\u201d<\/p>\n
She did. There were four lanes of traffic going east and west, backed up and not moving at all. Their headlights were coming on in the fast-fading light. There was nothing unusual about this scene.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2013\u201d she began, but was interrupted by the sound \u2013 clear even from up here \u2013 of metal screaming as it was tortured into new shapes\u2026mingled with the screams of people. \u201cDon\u2019t hurt them,\u201d she pleaded, as cars\u2019 roofs began to peel back, as if a giant tin opener was working its way through the metal. The destruction continued in a ring around some epicentre as the ground rumbled and shook, and the tiny insect shapes of people scattered from their idling cars in all directions of the compass.<\/p>\n
\u201cWitness the power,\u201d Azazael\u2019s mouth roared.<\/p>\n
The ground beneath the peeled cars spat up dirt and white dust. Pieces of machinery flew like missiles. Marleen had time to realise that these were coming from the underground works of the Gautrain rail system. Cranes with long arms creaked, while a hole grew in the centre of the turmoil, sand and tar and road falling away into the hungry mouth of the earth.<\/p>\n
She saw into that hole, saw the tortured souls, the people in torn business suits that had been flayed from their bodies. Carpetbaggers, travelling medicine men, priests and politicians \u2013 familiar faces of con men throughout the ages, all lined the long larynx of a tunnel that spiralled into the earth. Rows upon rows of them, each bound in tangles and snarls of barbed wire, thorn bushes and hooks, and all screaming with one voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cALL HAIL! AZAZAEL! LORD OF HELL!\u201d<\/p>\n
Marleen looked back into the hateful eyes that reflected their own hell. \u201cYou\u2019re not lord of hell.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSave yourself! Show me your pretty wings,\u201d the creature mocked. The grip around her neck loosened. And she was free falling.<\/p>\n
At that precise moment, the sun set \u2013 and the comet overhead lit up the sky. A car with tinted windows, an angel\u2019s wings on the hood, appeared down below.<\/p>\n
The world froze.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
12.<\/p>\n
\u201cSay it. Say it again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSay it!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2026\u201d His voice faltered. \u201cMiranda\u2026the world.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan wait a moment \u2013 a moment is all I ask.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA moment we\u2019ve been trying for so long to what? Find? Re-enact? We\u2019ve got to face reality\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReality is the last thing we need to face\u2026there\u2019s only us\u2026we are reality.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPeople are dying, Mir\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPeople will always be dying, just as they will always be born\u2026we, on the other hand\u2026I always think there is hope for us. And then I go away\u2026what is it you said to me once?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA time between \u2013 a lifetime of lifetimes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you still feel that way?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you long for me? Far away in your kingdom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery day of every human life. You know it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen that is all I can have\u2026for now. Perhaps next time\u2026will be the last time\u2026and we can be together\u2026no more Scissions<\/em>. Just us.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cI\u2019d like that\u2026Mir\u2026the comet is gone\u2026the sun has set\u2026you need to go.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour keeper grows anxious\u2026He always made me nervous.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe does what he is supposed to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026one last kiss?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor now.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
13.<\/p>\n
\u201cFreakiest thing I\u2019ve ever seen,\u201d Genny said, inhaling and puffing on a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes kept straying to the human-shaped hole in the glass that hugged one side of the restaurant.<\/p>\n
The policewoman nodded in sympathy, writing down everything she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe just\u2026jumped. One minute she\u2019s got the chef\u2019s salad in front of her\u2026then she just jumped.\u201d Genny\u2019s young eyes stared into the older and more experienced gaze of the policewoman. \u201cShe just jumped. Smash, through the glass. How can a person\u2026just jump?\u201d she repeated. \u201cWhat was so awful about her life?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
14.<\/p>\n
The paramedics arrived on the scene, the ambulance making its way between cars parked willy-nilly, bystanders and rubber-neckers in the peak hour traffic, bright orange cones and the tricky rubble of a construction site. A fire truck could be heard approaching. Paramedics Thabani Nkosi and Jason Fouche made their way to the body of the old lady.<\/p>\n
\u201cMind there, please! Medics! Please, can we get through?\u201d Thabani called, his voice seeming to awaken the crowd, which moved in a sluggish, dazed way. Jason had always thought that when people crowded they took on the hypnotic look of holocaust survivors. He planned to write a thesis on it one day.<\/p>\n
The last of the people moved back\u2026revealing a bizarre scene. The blood made the new tar gleam like polished stone. A star-shape of it had splattered from the body at its centre, like an explosion frozen forever. The white-shrouded shape lay like a broken rag doll, of no use to this earth. Shattered glass glinted like eyes reflecting the evening sky. Both medics were young, but had experienced so much death in their short careers that they were already hardened to what they witnessed every day.<\/p>\n
This was different.<\/p>\n
As streetlights started flickering on, and the shadows became artificial, Jason bent next to the old lady, feeling for a pulse, even though there was no evidence as to why a pulse should exist. There was none.<\/p>\n
Thabani was trying his best at crowd control.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, baba<\/em>, please. We need to do our work!\u201d<\/p>\nAn elderly man in overalls held his Zionist Star badge up like a policeman\u2019s ID. \u201cShe should not be touched! She is not of this world!\u201d he cried in a clear, preacher\u2019s voice. His well-travelled face was illuminated with an inner light. \u201cShe is an angel of the Lord!\u201d<\/p>\n
At least we know what you do on the weekends, old man<\/em>, Jason thought.<\/p>\nHis hands slid under the body, feeling along \u2013 they caught on something. Jason peered closer\u2026<\/p>\n
What he saw made him oblivious to what was being said:<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026opened up\u2026I saw. The sun shone on them\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t even scream\u2013\u201d\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Lord has spoken to us.\u201d<\/p>\n
The fire truck was hooting its way through the crowd. People seemed reluctant to move out of the way.<\/p>\n
Jason continued to stare down at what was underneath the old lady. His eyes darted to her face \u2013 serene and pale, with a trickle of blood drying at the corner of her mouth. They moved back to where his hand was. He held a large white feather \u2013 a feather that felt like silk, spots of blood on its pristine whiteness, glaringly red. He moved her slightly\u2026there were more of the same snow-white feathers caught in the blood beneath her body. And something else. The tip of what looked like\u2026a large wing\u2026<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
15.<\/p>\n
The police report would later rule what had happened on the corner of Grayston and Sandton Drive as nothing more than the suicide of an elderly Caucasian woman. She had no ID on her. No record of her having ever lived in Johannesburg, or indeed South Africa, seemed to exist. All witnesses in the restaurant had put forward that she had sat quietly, eating her salad, though some had agreed that at one point a man had sat down with her. But this could never be confirmed or corroborated, as this man was not in the restaurant. Either he had vanished, or had never existed in the first place.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
16.<\/p>\n
The city was alive. So alive it ached in his bones. He knew humans had deserted its terrible heart in droves over the years, but there were others who flocked to its bosom. The city\u2019s heart was both fascinating and cold. The wall at his back bit into his jacket. The breath gusted out of him in white plumes. The nights were so cold. It was amazing to feel again. He hadn\u2019t felt this…\u00a0\u00a0 human since Berlin. He was aware of so much \u2013 his own fear, the hollow hunger, the sirens, the alleyway with its stink of human waste, biological and material, the moans of people living under rubble not too far off.<\/p>\n
He had been promised a kingdom.<\/p>\n
This was his reward.<\/p>\n
He couldn\u2019t even blame the woman. He huddled, arms folded in front of him. The chill was beginning to creep through his human clothes. He held up his index finger by the light of a flashing blue neon Vodacom signboard high up in the sky. He had only two left. Michael and Gabriel \u2013 both buzzing lazily around his head. They may save him yet. In the meantime, he\u2019d save his strength and hate for his master.<\/p>\n
Someone moaned in their sleep nearby. A pile of papers and cardboard shifted on the ground.<\/p>\n
His eyes were large in the semi-dark he found himself in now. Above him, two fire escapes framed a black, cold sky and stars. No comet.<\/p>\n
Then he heard it: a new sound, nothing to make anyone too concerned. Not in this city. He thought of his master\u2019s serrated legs bursting through the body \u2013 the doorway \u2013 of the businessman. He thought of the sound those large insectile legs had made.<\/p>\n
The sound he was listening to now was that of footsteps \u2013 but they had the distinct quality of heels.<\/p>\n
Woman\u2019s heels.<\/p>\n
Prada.<\/p>\n
\u201cBuster Leebs.\u201d Her voice was velvet. He looked up, his heart locked, frozen, his body instantly covered in perspiration. An orange square of light had appeared above one of the fire escapes, and there she stood \u2013 a black outline of curves, one arm leaning lazily on the railing, the other bent on her hip. There should be no lights in these buildings\u2026they\u2019re derelict and abandoned<\/em>, he thought.<\/p>\n\u201cI can hear you down there\u2026I can hear your fear pumping through your veins. You may as well show yourself\u2026besides, your pets give you away.\u201d<\/p>\n
Despite the assurance in her voice, he remained frozen.<\/p>\n
\u201cVery well\u2026have it your way.\u201d The silhouette turned and the sounds of her descent down the metal staircase matched the sound of coffin nails being pounded with a mallet.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat were you promised?\u201d she asked, her voice caressing the shell of his ear as if she were right behind him. \u201cWere the keys held up before your ignorant eyes? Your greed has followed you beyond death\u2026defecting was your death sentence in life, and now here you find yourself\u2026\u201d She reached the bottom of the staircase, her shoes crunching rubble, gravel, old newspapers, plastic bottles. She walked slowly towards him, a swagger, a hip shot out. A street lamp caught her briefly like a gasp \u2013 she was naked, all smooth flesh and planes of seduction. She wore only the shoes.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe\u2026\u201d she said, \u201cmaybe this is all my fault. In the end, I should never have left such weak minds in charge.\u201d<\/p>\n
He was shivering now as she walked though the bodies of sleeping individuals, a shadow again.<\/p>\n
He reached out his hand \u2013 the one with the paper cut \u2013 and said only, \u201cMother.\u201d<\/p>\n
The neon board high in the sky cast a blue light over her. Her dark hair framed a face he couldn\u2019t see. She stood with one leg forward, bent, playing with her shoe. \u201cYou must decide, Buster. In Hell, it\u2019s what we all decide. You were wrong\u2026\u201d and now he could almost see her face \u2013 see her eyes. \u201cYou were wrong to try and take away what you thought was mine. For in the end\u2026it\u2019s not mine to give. It all belongs to Him.\u201d<\/p>\n
He still held his hand out\u2026but now a tingling sensation was beginning in his index finger. And then the most excruciating pain he\u2019d ever felt erupted \u2013 it was far worse than anything the Russians had ever done to him in the cell in Czechoslovakia. He tried to scream, but no sound emerged. His eyes looked down at his fingertip\u2026he could see the underside of his nail in the blue light. Even through the pain he knew this made no sense \u2013 until the nail travelled up his finger, and the sound of skin ripping reached his ears. The paper cut had expanded out, and was now slowly eating his finger, skin wrinkling backwards over bone and tendons. Tearing itself off of him; a crawling beast of pain moving up his arm. The rest of his fingertips burst as skin and nails and knuckles wrinkled towards his wrist. His teeth gritted in the neon blue light.<\/p>\n
This is my punishment<\/em>, a cold, distant part of him announced, as the flesh continued to fold back up his arm. This is my decision.<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cNot the brightest in the galaxy \u2013 your Lord Azazael. Before he dropped the old woman, had he forgotten that Angels\u2019 blood can seal the doors to Hell?\u201d she asked matter-of-factly, as if there weren\u2019t a man crouched in front of her, watching his own flesh slowly consume him. \u201cIn the end her sacrifice sealed all your fates. She could have used her wings\u2026oh well. Better luck next time.\u201d She turned away from Buster, and he saw through the haze of pain the forbidden sight \u2013 the one no demon in Hell was privileged enough to see \u2013 her delicate shoulder blades were a tattoo of scorched and pulped flesh. Even in the throes of his agony he felt a thrill\u2026<\/p>\n
Buster watched his sleeve disappear under a mound of flesh and blood and tendons. It had all peeled back over his arm to his shoulder.<\/p>\n
In the end, we all decide what we deserve.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
17.<\/p>\n
He had walked into the morgue of Jo\u2019burg General Hospital at exactly midnight. The passageways hummed with the refrigeration and the general hush of the dead resting. The nurse on duty had looked up from her desk. A tall, well-dressed black man stood before her. He could be a doctor \u2013 but she didn\u2019t think he was.<\/p>\n
Kind eyes<\/em>, had been her only real impression when she talked to the police later on. Not like the other. The amazing thing was, when the CCTV footage was viewed, there was only the tall, well-dressed man talking to the duty nurse, and no-one else. But Nurse Sally Zaglog insisted there had been another man. One whose eyes she remembered, too.<\/p>\n\u201cEyes like\u2026like the coins they put on dead men,\u201d was how she described them. \u201cTo keep their<\/em> eyes closed. Flat, and yellow.\u201d The police chalked this \u2018second man\u2019 up to the hysteria and shock they saw all too often at the scenes of bank robberies and hijackings, where an extra villain was imagined by the victim or victims. A second man. But as the footage showed, there had only been one.<\/p>\n\u201cSally, I\u2019d like to visit a dear friend of mine. I believe you\u2019re keeping her.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sally had smiled at him. He had that air about him. How could you not smile at him? \u201cCertainly\u2026which one is she?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was brought in from Sandton\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Sally had gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. \u201cThe angel,\u201d she whispered. The nice man\u2019s smile had seemed to understand. The second man had looked on impassively \u2013 his eyes two amber mirrors.<\/p>\n
Captain Venter paused the tape.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you saying here?\u201d he asked. A blurry line shivered in the centre of the screen. Sally watched the shape of herself holding her hands up to her face.<\/p>\n
The angel.<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cI\u2026I can\u2019t remember,\u201d she finally said. The policeman\u2019s eyes were all over her face. \u201cLike I said\u2026it was weird to have visitors at midnight\u2026and what happened\u2026you know how shock works, Captain? It messes with your recall and time perception.\u201d<\/p>\n
The captain let it go. Again, he and his sergeant exchanged glances. Sally knew that look. The Little Woman look. Dear God help me<\/em>, she caught herself thinking.<\/p>\nThey continued viewing the tape. It showed her getting up and leading the man (the men<\/em>, in her mind) down the corridor, the tall black man looking up directly into the camera. There seemed to be a\u2026shimmer in the viewing room. She saw the Captain\u2019s eyes glaze over. He was standing with one hand on the back of her chair \u2013 looming, more like it.\u2013 The sergeant blinked a few times.<\/p>\nThe TV showed a different room now. The lights were on dim. Sally saw herself step through the glass double doors, and turn up the lights. The doors to the fridges marched off left and right.<\/p>\n
\u201cSally,\u201d said the tall black man with the kind eyes, \u201cI\u2019m not going to lie about why we are here.\u201d He reached out and took her hand in his. She felt warmth travel up her arm \u2013 the same warmth that one experienced through the lens of childhood, lazy afternoon warmth. \u201cThis lady who was brought in this evening\u2026she is a dear, dear friend of mine. My\u2026colleague and I, well we\u2019ve come to take her home. This place, noble and respectful of the dead as it is, is not for her. She needs to come home\u2026\u201d His eyes filled with tears. It startled her. \u201cCan you understand the need to go home?\u201d<\/p>\n
Captain Venter paused the footage again. He bent into the light thrown by the gooseneck lamp. Sally wiped her eyes quickly.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he say to you?\u201d<\/p>\n
She couldn\u2019t lie to the policeman either. \u201cThat he \u2013 they were there to take the lady\u2026the dead lady. She needed to go home.\u201d<\/p>\n
Again the searching look. His moustache quivered slightly. She wasn\u2019t sure if he was about to laugh or if he was holding back annoyance. \u201cIs this all normal procedure, Ms Zaglog?\u201d The sarcasm bit her. \u201cLetting strangers take people from the morgue at midnight?\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head. \u201cNo.\u201d Her fingers played with each other. They were still warm from the man\u2019s touch, hours ago now.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen how do you explain what happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked up at them, aware of the smirk on the face of the sergeant who was writing it all down in a notebook. She was aware of the distant ebb and flow of a hospital waking up as the new day stole in through the windows.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d she said. \u201cI want to\u2026but how can I explain?\u201d He was leaning in close to her, and she never knew what made her, but she reached up with a hand and touched the side of his face. His eyes glazed immediately. \u201cYour wife\u2026she misses you. Go home to her.\u201d The tears continued to roll down her cheeks. \u201cGo home right now. Your job is important, but she is more so.\u201d<\/p>\n
A chair scraped back, the sergeant had his gun halfway from his holster. \u201cGet your hand off him, lady!\u201d<\/p>\n
The Captain\u2019s eyes widened and he pulled back as if he\u2019d felt the heat of an oven burn his face. He reached up and touched the burning spot on his cheek where she\u2019d touched him. \u201cWhat is this?\u201d he asked, his voice hoarse. \u201cWhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShould I cuff her?\u201d The sergeant sounded unsure. After a moment, the Captain gathered himself and held up a hand. \u201cNo\u2026\u2019sfine. Sit down, Sergeant.\u201d He turned back to the screen and played the rest of the tape. There would be no more pausing it. His eyes did not meet hers again.<\/p>\n
The third door on the right was pulled open, and a tray large enough to support a human body slid out. A body bag lay on the tray. The tall man pulled the zipper downward. She stood near the feet, which held the name tag. It simply read: Engel<\/em>.<\/p>\nAngel.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t let you do this\u2026\u201d Her voice was weak, with no real conviction. \u201cWe should not be here. This is against regulations.\u201d<\/p>\n
She felt the presence of the other \u2013 remaining in the shadows.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe did a great thing for all of us today,\u201d the tall man said, looking down at the body. Sally couldn\u2019t see any wings like the paramedics had claimed. But she knew by the large crowd of people gathered outside the hospital with their candle-lit vigil and their singing that this body had caused them all to believe something had happened. Some brush with the Divine. She looked up at the man, and wondered if this was a continuation of that encounter.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you an angel too?\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n
The dark figure stepped forward, ninja eyes burning. It reached out a hand and placed it on the tray. The lights overhead dimmed, and the camera footage hissed as the picture turned to static.<\/p>\n
The Captain turned to look at Sally. His eyes remained fixed above her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
She found she couldn\u2019t stop weeping. \u201cIt\u2019s like I said \u2013 they took her away. They took her home.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
18.<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce you see them\u2026you can\u2019t unsee them, like. You make out?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThese are the angels?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd the demons. They don\u2019t look so different, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that what your boss\u2026Mr Morera \u2013 is? A demon?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know about him\u2026he just stole from us. We work hard, you know! For such little money! And he takes it from us!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas that the reason you attacked him?\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cKenny?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJa\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas that the reason for you attacking him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSuppose so\u2026I don\u2019t remember\u2026it felt right. It felt like he should be hurt for stealing. You make out?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKenny\u2026how did you know your boss was stealing tips from the waiters?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was told.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBy whom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was told here\u2026gut instinct! You check? I\u2019d seen him out the corner of my eye taking the money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you call the police?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe cops? You nuts or something, lady? The cops are more corrupt than the crooks! It\u2019s freekin\u2019 chaos out there!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat can you remember?\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat can you remember, Kenny?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFlies.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI remember the smell of\u2026dead animals\u2026and flies.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat else?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA\u2026dead man in a suit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOne of the missing businessmen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ro know! Maybe\u2026But he was walking funny\u2026like he had new legs growing out of him. They\u2026wasn\u2019t human legs.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGo on.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe spoke to me. Said I could be his servant if I wanted to be. Said I had a hand to the keys\u2026all I had to do was make a blood sacrifice. That way I could open the doors\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDoors. To what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHell<\/em>, lady. Haven\u2019t you been paying attention? Hell.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cThis is what the businessman\u2026Riaan Van der Vyver, said to you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe wasn\u2019t called Riaan anymore, lady\u2026see, what I now see everywhere is doors\u2026doors going in and doors going out. And the keys are just\u2026lying around. If more of us knew this\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you kill Riaan Van der Vyver, Kenny?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, uh-uh. Not me. That guy was already dead. Dead as a doorway\u2026\u201d Laughter. \u201cBeelzebub was already using him as a doorway.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Lord of the Flies.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNow you\u2019re getting it. You\u2019re a sharp one. Not just a pretty face.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tape clicked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe rest is just the same thing over and over again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Devil made me do it,\u201d the policeman said. He frowned. \u201cNothing fits. The suicide of a woman who jumped from Scission<\/em>\u2019s window. An attempted murder of the restaurant owner, and the disappearance of two businessmen. Where is Kenny now?\u201d<\/p>\nThe psychiatrist looked into the policeman\u2019s eyes. \u201cHe\u2019s being kept under observation. We\u2019ve given him a sedative. He says we won\u2019t be able to stop the angels or the demons from finding him.\u201d<\/p>\n
The cop made a noise of disgust. \u201cSpeaking of angels\u2026I\u2019m hearing strange things from the on-the-scene people. There are claims this suicide lady had wings.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyebrow arched. \u201cWings?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCaptain Venter himself is down at Jo\u2019burg Gen checking out the apparent disappearance of this woman. Someone came and took the body away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean? Took the body away?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSpirited it away. Past staff, past security. Captain Venter tells me there is some strange CCTV footage \u2013 but it doesn\u2019t explain anything \u2013 what are you thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSomething Kenny said: \u2018There are doorways everywhere\u2019\u2026what does it mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not sure\u2026but one thing I do know. Keep an eye on Kenny. He is now our only link to what went on at Scission<\/em>. I\u2019m not having him find a doorway out of this station.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
19.<\/p>\n
As it happened, the doorway found Kenny.<\/p>\n
He awoke on his bunk bed.<\/p>\n
A voice: Kenny\u2026<\/em><\/p>\nKenny looked around; sleep had scurried off.<\/p>\n
Kenny\u2026the keys to the kingdom await. Are you my loyal servant?<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cThey don\u2019t believe me,\u201d he said, eyes darting around. His own cell was dark, but there was a passage light that hummed with fluorescent consistency.<\/p>\n
Does it matter? The only thing that matters is that you have proven yourself worthy. Kenny, do you want to leave your cell?<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cYes! They scheme I\u2019m mal<\/em>!\u201d He frowned. \u201cI could be, actually. But I know what I know.\u201d<\/p>\nThen be ready.<\/em><\/p>\nAnd there it was \u2013 a sound, like the hum of the fluorescent lights. A sound that had been there all along \u2013 the buzzing of flies. His eyes picked them out in the gloom. Two of them, each with a long hair attached to it. The guy! The guy at the restaurant. He\u2019d had four of these buggers attached to him. Kenny had pointed them out to the other waiters\u2026but they had not seen anything different about the American.<\/p>\n
Because they did not believe.<\/em> He lifted his hands and plucked at the two fine threads. Immediately, he felt a weightlessness steal over his body. He lifted. Damned if he didn\u2019t! Like the world\u2019s strangest hot air balloon powered by two tiny engines, he levitated off the bed. He crossed his legs, arms stretched above him.<\/p>\nIt\u2019s time to go,<\/em> said the voice. It was a lot more seductive, that voice. He knew it belonged to the creature he\u2019d seen half-in and half-out of the businessman. The doorway.<\/p>\n\u201cWhere\u2013?\u201d<\/p>\n
There are doorways everywhere.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
20.<\/p>\n
The car idled at an intersection, black, with angel wings on the hood. This was the deadest part of the night. When the world seemed to be inhaling deeply. The exhale would come soon. And with it, the first chilly dawn birdcall.<\/p>\n
The shadowy figure sat at the wheel, his breath misting in the cold air that crept through the lowered window. His eyes were fixed on the rear-view mirror. His strange hands held the wheel \u2013 they were scarred with the endless years of souls not wanting to leave this world. Everything about his form spoke of readiness. He\u2019d watched the lights change from green to amber to red so many times he\u2019d given up counting.<\/p>\n
The occupant in the back seat sat calmly, holding a cell phone. Every now and then he\u2019d check it\u2026a pointless waiting ritual, like counting how many times traffic lights changed.<\/p>\n
Finally the phone vibrated.<\/p>\n
The occupant exhaled \u2013 and the world outside began to wake up. The first bird made its song heard.<\/p>\n
1 MESSAGE RECEIVED.<\/p>\n
He opened it \u2013 read it. A smile appeared on his face. He put the phone on the seat beside him.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s go home,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
The amber eyes in the rear-view mirror dipped in assent, and the car pulled off. The occupant looked out of his fogged-up window at the shapes of buildings. Of forgotten corners and intersections. Of people even now moving among the rubbish.<\/p>\n
The message still shone in the darkness of the backseat:<\/p>\n
Can\u2019t wait for our next date. You choose the venue. I\u2019ll bring the glamour. Until then\u2026a lifetime of lifetimes. LxM<\/em><\/p>\nillustration copyright \u00a9 2011 by Jesca Marisa
\nCopyright \u00a9 2011 by Domenico Pisanti
\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/07\/blackline1-300x7.jpg\" "\\"blackline\\"")
<\/h5>\n
\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/07\/PurchaseButton.png\" "\\"PurchaseButton\\"") <\/a><\/td>\n | ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/07\/SubsBuyButton.png\" "\\"SubsBuyButton\\"") <\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n[hana-code-insert name=’ArticleBlockOpen’ \/]<\/p>\n ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/11\/Mico-authors-photo-e1321209335993-150x147.jpg\" "\\"Mico---authors-photo\\"") Domenico Pisanti<\/em> lives in Johannesburg and believes every word he writes.<\/p>\nHe was a visitor back in issue one of Something Wicked<\/em>, and promises to not leave it for too long before he is back.<\/p>\nHe has been a top ten finalist for the past two years running in the annual Citizen Book Prize. Currently he is trying to get through all the stories in his head.
\n[hana-code-insert name=’ArticleBlockClose’ \/]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" by Domenico Pisanti
\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/06\/TitleUnderline.jpg\" "\\"TitleUnderline\\"") <\/h3>\n\n\n\n| \n He walked into the restaurant, a man in his early fifties; someone who turned heads and for a brief moment reminded all who glanced in his direction of a happier time in their lives. Then it was business as usual. A waiter was already making his way towards the man, who was looking around as though trying to find someone..<\/p>\n<\/td>\n | ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/11\/CoverIssue15Kindle-225x300.jpg\" "\\"CoverIssue15Kindle\\"") <\/a>
\nFrom Issue 15 (Nov 2011)<\/span><\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n\n| <\/td>\n | <\/a><\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[80,226,178,126],"class_list":["post-1559","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-domenico-pisanti","tag-fiction","tag-horror","tag-issue-15"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1559","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1559"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1559\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1996,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1559\/revisions\/1996"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1559"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1559"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1559"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}} | |
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![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/11\/Scission.jpg\" "\\"Scission\\"")
<\/p>\n