Not even Angels

Michael

The streets were sticky from the wet sand underneath the melting snow and the cold, drizzling rain that had lasted all day long. The thin, gray veil of fog covered the city and the night resembled a movie scene I once saw. The echo, that my shoes made against the ground, sounded like rubber balls bouncing of walls. I let a warm and deep breath escape my lips forming a white cloud that disappeared into the chilly air as I finally reached the outside stairs of my home. The light over the door, that would normally be triggered by movement, did not turn on. Without it, it took a good while for me to find the keyhole in the dark.

When I got inside I noticed that the outside light was not turned on at all. That could only mean that Anna had not been home since she left to work early in the morning. So, she was doing overtime but had not bothered to inform me. That was typical of her. Anna had lousy concentration skills and she did not know how to multi-task so she often simply forgot to call me. She would probably be running all over the city trying to carry out all her client’s wishes and had forgotten to look at the time. She worked as a party planner. I was not worried since all the stores would be closed soon and she would have to give up for today. I turned on every light in the house to expel the darkness, undressed my soaking wet clothes leaving them lying in the corner of the bathroom and ordered two pizzas from the restaurant nearby. I was so hungry I could almost see the hole in my stomach.

I had waited too long and it was too late at night. It had never taken this long for Anna to come home. The hand on the clock told me it was 1 AM and it was pitch black outside. I could not sleep for my stomach was turning from all the greasy food and the anxious feeling that something was wrong. Right then the telephone rang and I picked up the receiver in such a hurry it almost slipped my hand. On the other end a police officer introduced himself with a deep, raspy voice. I knew then, something bad had happened.

Detective Inspector Lucas Alby

The killer had no motive, whatsoever. He had no prior connection to the victim or at least we had not found one. Neither did he have any kind of previous criminal record. He was homeless and an alcoholic but that was all. People who had known him told us he often read the bible in a corner of some street and that he liked to chat with the bypassers who were kind enough to stay and listen. We heard that he had been a nice and friendly man with calm manners and no aggressive tendencies. In addition, no one who had known him knew that he carried a gun. The man himself had not said a word no matter how hard I tried to get him to talk. After two hours, he had not told me even his name.

The victim, Anna Evans, was thirty-two-years-old, career driven woman who had a husband but no children. The night when the crime had occurred, Anna Evans was working late and after finishing up she had gone to the gym that was located in the same building as her office. She had been in the showers at the time the killer surprised her. No one knew how the man had gotten in as all the doors were locked and the gym was private. Nothing made sense. Anna seemed to have no dirty secrets or any kind of relation to anything illegal.

I fed in my third coin into the vending machine which had already swallowed my two earlier attempts without a response. I pressed the button and this time thin coffee poured in to the bottom of the cardboard cup in a lazy dribble. I took the cup, and to my nuisance, it did not feel hot enough. I dragged myself back into the interrogation room. This time I simply sat on the chair facing the homeless man and stared at him. I said nothing and the clock on the wall moved forward slowly. Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty. I finished my coffee and then continued to wait. I did not know what to say. At last, I got up to leave and right then the man suddenly whispered:

“Have you ever seen an angel?”

I was taken aback by the question. I sat back down and the legs of my chair made a squeaking noise against the floor. I flinched as I was well aware how overweight I had gotten in the past few years.

“Angels? You mean chubby, naked children with golden hair and wings?” I asked as I was thinking of a play the fifth-graders had made last Christmas. My daughter had played the lead.

“No. Angels are not like that in real life. Have you not read what the bible says about angels?” He asked and leaned forward in his chair. I leaned back as a counter reaction and raised my chin up. I shook my head.

“Angels are not like you think at all. They are scary. They were created before man was. They are ancient. I saw angels last night.”

“I see. And how were the angels then?”

“They came to me in a blinding bright light. At first I could not see anything. But when my eyes grew accustomed to the light I saw them. And I knew right away, they were angels. They had four wings and burning wheels underneath them. And they had four faces. They were an utterly terrifying sight”, the man explained and I leaned forward so that our faces were real close now. I could see my reflection on his huge, sky blue eyes. I looked tired, I noticed.

“And what did these angels want?”

“They talked to me without opening their mouths. They were inside my head and I new what they wanted me to do. They wanted me to shoot that woman. They told me there was a devil growing inside her. I did not want to harm her but their will was stronger than my own.”

“Where did you get the gun?” I asked and pondered on what he meant by devil inside her.

“I got it from the angels”, he said. I could see sincerity in his blue eyes. He had to be beyond mad.

Detective Inspector Lucas Alby: five days later

Psychiatric evaluation ruled the man sane. That meant, he would get convicted for life. The whole story about the angels was ridiculous and I now believed he was simply lying in order to reduce his sentence. The autopsy had showed something interesting, however. Anna Evans had been pregnant. She had probably not been aware of it even herself as it was in an early stage. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the fetus. It was not a devil’s child, I believe. My theory was that Anna had perhaps had an affair or something like that, that had gotten her killed. However, there was no evidence to back that up. It bothered me continuously. I was a Christian myself but not profound: I visited church every Christmas, I had a picture of Jesus in my living room and my children were baptized but that was all. I had never read the bible and I had absolutely no idea what it said about angels. To me angels had always meant chubby children or creatures made out of bright light who’s job it was to protect humans. Or they would have been if I believed they were real in the first place.

Then something unexpected happened. After the case, my eleven-year-old daughter Mona started telling weird things. She said someone was standing outside her bedroom door at nights and that she could see bright light coming under the closed door. I had told nothing about the case to my family as I liked to keep my work and my family life strictly separated. So naturally, I thought she was just having nightmares. But then she told me that one night that someone had opened her door and come inside. At first she had gone blind but then she saw and she told me:

“It was like human but not really and it had six wings and it covered its face with two of them. And it had wheels instead of legs and they were on fire. Then it lowered its wings uncovering its face and I saw it had eyes all over its head. It did not speak to me but I know it's coming back tonight.”

I was petrified but I thought Mona had to had read my case files that I had one day carelessly left lying on the kitchen counter for a while. She did not admit to that but I guessed she was afraid that I would get angry. She was right. I would be furious.

I decided to stay awake that night and I sat in an armchair in our living room facing the door to my daughter’s bedroom. I sat there all night until my eyelids went heavy and my eyes felt coarse as if they had sand in them. But I managed to stay awake and come morning nothing had happened. I saw no one in the house and when Mona woke up she talked nothing about anyone visiting her. I went to work feeling dead tired and fell asleep on my desk while doing some paperwork.

I was startled awake by someone knocking on the door of my office. I urged the visitor to come in. Michael Evans, the husband of Anna Evans, stepped inside. I felt confused by the sudden visit but tried to straighten my blouse and got up to give the man a handshake. Then I offered him a chair but he would not sit down.

“I have seen them too. The angels. They came to me last night”, Michael explained to me with a calm voice. He seemed too calm as if he was in a trance of some sort. I could not make up an answer. I did not have an explanation to it all.

“They told me you have a daughter. They want her. That's what they told me.” I got goosebumps and I could feel cold sweat running down the back of my blouse. My heart was racing, I felt unable to breathe. What is going on?

“I went to your house this morning. I got your address from a kind police officer when I called here last night. You were not here. And you were not home this morning when I came by. You daughter opened the door. She told me you had already left for work.” Michael was explaining all this to me with a tranquil tone. I got an unnerving suspicion. Michael had a connection to his wife, obviously, but not to the man who had shot her. However, now he had met my daughter who claimed to have seen angels as well. The wheels inside my brain were turning swiftly as I thought of the possibility that the angels could have an reasonable explanation after all. I jumped out of my chair and ran straight outside into the gray and rainy afternoon. I got in my car and drove home as fast as I could. I had a feeling, I was in a hurry.

I got home too late. Inside my daughter’s room, against the window, hung her lifeless body from a rope. Her face had turned blue and her swollen tongue was hanging outside. On the dresser was a note. I recognized Mona’s handwriting. It read: No one can save us. Not even angels.