Angel of Death

by Jo Dawe

Things never work out quite how I imagine they will. It's a flaw of mine, really. However I think things will go, they are bound to go in the opposite direction. It makes for difficult living. Have you ever tried not anticipating the future? Not a very possible task, let me tell you. Before we reach our tenth year we have enough life experience to see and recognize patterns. With these patterns in mind, we can, within reason, see a situation, equate it to something from the past, something familiar, and anticipate the outcome.

One would think that by now I'd be over this. One would think that, given my life, given how terribly wrong my judgment is, I would anticipate the negative. But it seems I can't let go of my optimism. It started when I was just a child. On Christmas, even. I was eight. For the entirety of my short lifespan, Christmas had been joyous. I, therefore, expected another joyous holiday, with toys to unwrap and play with.

Well, I got the toys. But I hadn't planned for both of my parents to be killed coming home from Midnight Mass.

I went to live with my mother's sister Adelie and her family. I had met them before; I remembered her. She was a nice woman, a few years older than my mother was. She always had a ready smile and she gave great toys. I liked her. I expected things to get better.

Naturally, they did not. Aunt Adelie had five children of her own, some older and some younger than me. I must have remembered things wrong, for she never seemed to have anything good to say to me or about me. I lived with them for five years, until I was thirteen, when they handed me over to the state to take care of. I was too unruly, Aunt Adelie said. I expected to get fostered out right away, and I expected this family to be a horrible family. Bettering my situation wasn't important: I had only three more years before I could legally be on my own. All I needed was a place to stay for those years, and it didn't matter to me if they were loving people or wicked people who cared only about the extra income I'd be bringing them.

The Carlsons were better than I could have dreamed. Living with them was everything that living with Aunt Adelie was supposed to have been. Mike and Terry had two children of their own, Sue and Mary. Both girls were younger than I, and they were lovely children. Spoiled and overwhelmed with love, they wanted for nothing and were nearly always in a constant disposition.

The first year with them was hard. I didn't expect it to last very long. How could it? It was too perfect, too wonderful. But, after the first twelve months came and went and I found myself still there and still wanted, I began to relax. Maybe I could stay until I could afford to leave, rather than leaving as soon as I turned sixteen. Maybe things were looking up. Yes, yes, things were looking up. That had to be it. I wasn't there two years when it came out that Terry was cheating on Mike (with another woman, not that it matters) and things got ugly. I stayed through the divorce, but it was a bitter one. They became ugly people, fighting over everything, including the children. It's no surprise that custody was awarded to Mike, and I was given back to the state.

It was, I decided, close enough. There were places I could get jobs, places I could stay. I would run away. No more foster homes for me, thank you very much. I was done with that. So, before they could set me up in a new home I packed my bag with some clothes and necessities, and I was out of there.

Slightly amusing that the streets were exactly how I thought they'd be. What I hadn't expected was the time I'd spend on them. Or the lack thereof. He stabbed me my second night out there, for my clothes. At the time I was pissed. At the time I had wanted to kill him, and I would have, I think, if I had known how. And if I hadn't had a gaping hole in my stomach. It wasn't a fatal cut, what he gave me, but it bled, and I knew that without treatment I'd bleed to death. I wasn't ready to die just yet. I was just a kid.

But kids die the same as adults and that's exactly what I did. And even then things didn't go how they were supposed to. Not entirely, at least. At first I didn't think I died. I remembered clutching at the pain in my stomach while he took everything I had: wallet; jacket; shoes; duffel bag with clothes in it. Then I stood up and the pain was gone. Everything looked flat and brilliant all at once. One-dimensional and then full of depth. It made my head swim. I staggered against a building and tried to get my bearings.

"Nice night, isn't it?"

I looked up at the speaker. The confusion had to have been plain on my face. "The night." She waved her arms around to indicate the world around us. "It's nice. Do you agree?"

I blinked. "Um." My voice was a bit shaky, but beyond that it was all right. "Sure. I guess. I think, um, I was just robbed."

Her laughter bordered on bubbly. It was, I decided, the nicest thing about her. The prettiest. "You've been more than robbed, my dear. You are dead, I'm afraid."

Compared to hers my laugh was horrible, but I laughed anyway. Dead. Right. I felt fine.

"I'm not joking. Go ahead, look." She nodded her head, indicating that I should look over my shoulder.

Suddenly I did not want to look. I strongly and emphatically did not want to, and yet I felt compelled. It didn't make any sense to me at that point - how could I be dead? I felt fine - but I thought maybe she was on to something. I remembered the pain I had felt. Once it had fled I had dismissed it. He hadn't stabbed me, I thought; he had punched me, and hard, but it was better now.

It was gone now, but I wouldn't have called it better. I turned and sure enough there I lay, barefoot and bare-chested, sprawled in a pool of my own blood. This was beyond my experience, and still I had thought I would have reeled at such a sight. This was not the case. I took it in with relative calm, studying my body as though it had belonged to someone else.

That wasn't me. I was me, and I was fine.

"Oh," I said.

"Indeed." She patted my arm. "Come on, kiddo. We have places to, go things to do. It's not a very tight schedule but we can't just sit here and slack off."

Go? "Go where?" I asked. "Who are you, anyway?"

Her smile lit up her face. "Now come the questions. That's usually what they say first. No matter. Second question first: my name is Vangelyn. As to where we are going. . . well, where aren't we going? But we've got work to do, if you're going to learn the ropes on time."

Ropes? What ropes? "I'm sorry. Forgive me, I'm confused ~ what are you taking about?"

The smile slipped only a little. "The ropes. You know, the way to do the job? That sort of thing. You're my replacement, dear boy."

"Replacement for what? What is it you do?"

"I," she said, and bowed with a flourish, "am an Angel of Death."

I blanched. "A what?"

Vangelyn straightened up. "An Angel of Death? We go around and take lives, direct the dead to their places, that sort of thing. Surely you know what an angel of Death is?"

"Well. . . um." I groped. My Christian theology wasn't as good as it could have been. "Isn't one supposed to be an angel? I mean. . . humans can't become angels, can they?"

"In the old days, no. Then again, in the old days there was just Death; he handled it fine. When things got hard, She would help out, She and Her Sisters, but even then things grew too hard. There are too many living creatures. All living creatures die, you know. And so He started recruiting humans. We aren't like real angels, you know? This is all we can do, and we are pretty much earthbound ourselves. It's not so bad, though. There are perks, and we are left pretty much to ourselves. It could be a lot worse."

"She? Who is She?"

"Ah. Pick a name. Danu. Gaia. Demeter. Persephone. A group of angels who are to watch over the animal world and take their lives. It requires more than one, even then, because it's more involved. They live within their natural order; you do not. They couldn't be kept away from their own kind long, though, and so this became a necessity, really. Are you surprised?"

I didn't answer that. Instead I looked at her more closely. She wasn't anything remarkable. Nothing about her screamed, "I'm An Angel!" Her face was simple, if pretty. Her hair was average, her eyes a common shade of brown. Was I surprised?

"Why me?"

"Because you've got heart, Darren. The truth of the matter is that you were supposed to come to us years ago. You don't like to go by the schedule, do you?" Something in my face must have changed because then she continued with, "I'm only teasing. The schedule isn't really a schedule. It's not written down anywhere that such and such a person will die at such and such a time. Look, I can explain it all to you, or I can show you. I can do both, but we have to get going. There's an old man in Central Park who is waiting for us to get there."

So we walked. I had nothing better to do. I was alone in this, and she was the only other person at the time. Of course I went with her. "Were you human?" I asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes, once. A long while ago."

"They picked you to be an Angel of Death?"

"Not they," she said. "He, my predecessor. We only have to answer to Death when things go wrong, or if we don't live up to what we're supposed to. Beyond that he leaves us pretty much alone. But, yes, I was picked. And, for the most part, I've enjoyed my job. But I'm tired now, and it's getting to be a rut, you know? That's when you have to jump ship and get a replacement. We need to really be there for those who are leaving their physical lives, and lately I haven't been. I know you'll do a good job, though."

"How do you know that?"

"Because," she answered slowly, "you want to make a difference. Because you know how it is to face hard things and you'll want to make things easier for others. That's that kind of person you are and that's the kind of person we need."

I started to feel anger then. "And if I don't want the job?"

"Ah, there's the crux. That's non-negotiable, and one of the perks of being an angel. I picked you, I'm giving you a task, and you must do it. Severe consequences if you fail to do so. However," she rushed on, forestalling my protests, "you can begin looking for your replacement immediately. In between jobs, of course. Can't let the work slip. That would never do. Ah, here we are. Ready for your first lesson?" We were in the park. I looked down at the man at our feet. He lay half-sprawled across a walkway, with his head on a largish rock. He looked to be sleeping though I knew he was not. His breath was coming very shallowly. How I could tell that was beyond me. It was too dark to be able to see that kind of detail from where I was. Or, rather, it should have been too dark, but I could see it. I thought I could see the breath leaving his body, like frost crystals on a cold winter's day. But it wasn't winter; it wasn't that cold and it should have been impossible. Here I was, in the midst of a brand new experience and I was still trying to anticipate the future. See what I mean? We try, we try all the time. It's habit and one that is very hard to shake.

"Ah. He's not going to come willingly, this one," she stated, moving to a crouch over him. "Poor man. Darren, I want you to come closer to watch this. You'll have to do this, on occasion."

I obeyed, moving closer and crouching down next to her. As I did I noticed that his jacket looked familiar. It was, in fact, my jacket. I never got a good look at my attacker - my killer - but I didn't think that this was him. Still, there was blood on the jacket, and not very old blood, where I had been stabbed. How in the world had he gotten my jacket? I couldn't picture a man willing to kill over such an item turning around and giving it away to someone. It didn't make any sense. I felt betrayed. By the world, by the universe, by my killer, by this dying man. I couldn't find a place to lay the blame, but the feeling was thick in my throat. It threatened to suffocate me. It threatened to overwhelm me. I choked around it and fell back on my heels.

"I don't want to be dead," I told her quietly.

"We usually don't," she said without looking up, "but it's inevitable, really. Here, watch this."

"No," I said just as quietly. "I don't want this. I won't take this. You can't make me."

"I can - "

"What kind of an angel are you, anyway? Is this how you treat everyone you kill? This is new to me, something I don't want. I've just died and you want me to go to work immediately? Screw you! Screw your job! Find someone else!"

By the end of my rant my voice had risen considerably. I got to my feet and stalked away.

She was by my side almost immediately, a strong, cool grip on my arm. Stronger than it should have been, given her size. But, she was an Angel of Death; looks would be deceiving. "Darren, wait. Hang on." Her tone was amicable but I couldn't mistake the command. She was taking control of this situation. "I'm sorry. Do you see what I mean? I'm becoming desensitized to this. I shouldn't be rushing you. Waiting isn't going to change anything and you're different from everyone else because you're my replacement. I've never trained anyone before. The thing is, we're on a time limit. Once the replacement is chosen I have only three days to train you."

"Three days? I can't learn this in three days! Jesus Christ - "

"It's plenty of time, really. I mean, there are different situations, but the way things are handled are essentially the same. You sever the link if they're still alive when you get there, like Jean-Paul over there, or you guide them if they're already dead and waiting for you. And you're new; the others will keep an eye on you and help out if you need it. Your workload will be lighter in the beginning, as you gain experience. It's not unlike any other sort of job, Darren. You can do this. Now, come on, come back with me and watch. You'll need to know this." I clenched my fists at my side and dug my heels in. "No. Aren't you listening to me? I. Just. Died. I won't do this, not now, not right away." I tried to shrug out of her hand.

Vangelyn seemed to consider this. After a time she dropped my arm. "All right. Go. This will cut down on your training time but if it's needed, go. I'll find you before dawn."

As quickly as she appeared she was gone. Or, at least, I couldn't see her. I doubted she was really gone. I stood where I was, staring hard at the dying man. As I watched, he died. His breath stopped. I felt something change in the air around me but I didn't see him get up, like I had done. I didn't see him at all.

With Vangelyn gone I found I could breathe easy once again. I looked around the park, found a bench not to far away, and staggered to it. I was dead.

I didn't want to be dead.

I wasn't ready to be dead. I hadn't done anything yet. I was just a kid. Why would I have died?

All because I wanted to be off on my own. All because I didn't want to have to face another letdown, another hard time.

I sat there, with my chin in my hands, for hours, watching the world pass. Thoughts danced through my head. Maybe I wasn't really dead. Maybe this was a dream. I could be lying in a hospital bed, in a drug-induced sleep, after having been stitched up and fixed. Maybe everything would be all right in the end. Maybe anything.

"It's hard."

He popped into existence right next to me, a middle-aged man with laugh-wrinkles around his eyes. I flinched away from him, my heart jumping into my throat.

Or, it felt like that. It occurred to me that I didn't really have a heart anymore.

"You aren't given much time," he said, "and that's hard. Be thankful that she had you picked out in time. When Azefel picked me he only had one day left to train me."

Maybe nothing. I was dead. "You're an Angel of Death, too?" He nodded.

"This is too much," I said. "I'm just a kid, for crying out loud. I'm fifteen!"

"No. You are going to be an angel. And age doesn't matter, not here. It's about compassion and kindness and a sort of quiet strength."

"I'm not strong. I ran away. How strong is that?"

"You survived when many would crumble. That's strength. We aren't saying it's going to be easy, but we'll be here for you. You can do this. You are what she needs. What they need. It's not like you have a huge choice in that matter."

I glared. "What would happen if I refused to do this?"

The light in his eyes faltered. "That is a question I hope you never learn an answer to. Ah, Vangelyn." He got to his feet and embraced my tormentor.

She hugged him back. "It's good to see you, Nat. I didn't realize you'd be in the area." Vangelyn stepped out of his arms and looked at me. "It's morning," she said.

And it was. The sun was up, and the sky was bright. Though I had sat and watched I couldn't remember the darkness fading to light, but it had. "Darren, I'm sorry that you feel rushed. That's how it must be, though. I can only say that in time you'll understand. For now, I need you to come with me. You'll be better off for it if you learn what you can with me now. I'm not trying to hurt you."

I believed her. I found that I had believed her all along. I was still reeling but I had enough experience under my belt to recognize when things wouldn't be altered. That was something Aunt Adelie had taught me. I wasn't happy about it, but I accepted it. "All right," I said after a few minutes. "Let's go."

Those three days both flew by and dragged by. I dreaded her leaving, which seemed to make time speed up, and I dreaded learning "the ropes." To accommodate, time seemed to grind to a halt during those lessons. It was hard learning, the hardest I'd ever had to go through. Our first appointment together was with a baby who was fighting something fierce. It's instinctive, I came to understand, to fight for life as soon as you join the physical. Memory is blocked from you; you forget what it is beyond the physical. And nothing quells the heart like fear of the unknown. By the time Vangelyn had the babe cradled to her bosom I was blinded by tears. Sobs wracked my body. It hurt too much; I'd never be able to do this.

I cried a lot during those three days, though less and less with each passing. By dusk on the last day I was stronger for it. Vangelyn's steadfast stoicism gave me strength. I witnessed confusion, pain, anger, calm acceptance, and even relief in some cases. One by one each person drove home a lesson, and one thing was clear more than anything else: they needed us. More than that, they needed calm and clear guidance. That was our purpose. They didn't need us to die; that was inevitable. We brought release. Yes, true, to some who didn't welcome it, but we didn't kill anyone. Everyone we took was someone who was going to die, nearly immediately. Again, most were already dead and just waiting for assistance. That's what we gave.

When Vangelyn took her leave of me I was feeling more confident than I could remember ever feeling in my life. I didn't even think of looking for a replacement, though that was what I had planned going into this. It wasn't long before I realized that I was enjoying my work. It's not something for everyone, but I embraced it with all that I was. Everyone deserves that kind of guidance. As I became stronger, as experience shaped me, my workload increased. I didn't notice it too much. There was just always someone to help, someone to guide, someone who needed me. It was a good feeling.

Hell, it was a great feeling.

I don't think anyone ever really expects to become an Angel of Death. I know I sure didn't. But sometimes the most unanticipated events are blessings. Things never work out quite how I imagine they will, and I couldn't be happier about that.