Free Angel Dust by Sarah Mussi

back towards the mountains, towards Devil’s Pass, a different terror overcame me.
    A vision of
me
led here in human shape, a trembling girl, dark-eyed, pale-faced, horror-struck. A vision of ghouls laying hold on
my
spirit, leading
me
away to the river. I trembled. My wings faltered. I beat the air and plummeted ten metres. I landed, shaking, on a rocky promontory.
    But try as I might I couldn’t shake the image off. Yet how could it be? Was I human – to be divided from my soul by death? How could an angel
ever
be cast into the fires of Hell? Angels don’t die.
    But the thought didn’t console me. Instead I clung shivering to the ledge. The vision was so clear. As in a nightmare, I saw my own eyes looking up at me, as two dark shapes pinned my arms and led me away.
    And then a sad thought struck me: yes, angels can never be thrown into the fires of Hell. We don’t fear death. We don’t have to. Yet mortals such as Marcus must face that terror, must lie awake at night imagining it, must know beyond doubt that their lives will end and everything they love will be snatched away from them.
    And this was God’s creation?
    Should I thank Heaven I wasn’t mortal, then? But if I did, how could I ever hope to do God’s work? How could I hope to save the souls of the damned when my immortality set me apart? Was I cursed to be an angel? Doomed never to understand the meaning of life?
    For a split second I hated being immortal. On what authority did I judge those humans lining up by the ferry? If I were human who knows what choices I might have to make. I might be worse than the lowliest one of them.
    I shuddered and curled my wings around me. What thoughts. Was I not blessed to be exempt from such a fate?
    Did I say angels could never be thrown into the fires of Hell?
    But wasn’t that exactly what God had done to Lucifer?
    For an instant I felt a terrible sympathy with the Devil.
To be thrown by the hand you love into that.
No wonder he wanted to inflict the same on mankind. No wonder he waged eternal war on Heaven.
    But why by the stars above was I thinking all this? It must be the effect of these vile blasts from Hell.
    I should get to Marcus quickly and wholly impress upon him the terrifying fate in store if he didn’t do exactly as I said. And I must hurry.
    Straight away I took to the air.
    I was so preoccupied that I hardly noticed two shapes fall into flight beside me. When I looked up one of them dropped back out of view. The other was the Seraph I’d met on the road going down. I remembered her now. She was called Raquel.
    She smiled at me and said, ‘How was your day? Mine was crazy. I was on Road Call. There were so many souls to take to every kind of destination, I nearly got mixed up.’
    I bit my lip, swallowed my worries and said, ‘Well, next time, don’t forget you can ask for an Extension, if you’re really in a muddle.’
    â€˜Extensions?’ Raquel said. ‘What’re they?’ (Yes, I did remember her now. Genesis House. Cell 44. It hadn’t been trumpet practice at all – it’d been the Thunderbolt Championships.)
    I drew a deep breath and waved my feather tips vaguely. I decided to keep Marcus out of the conversation. I told her how a friend I’d known – aeons ago-ish – had met an angel, a Celestial Broker, on a business trip, and learned about Extensions.
    â€˜Bit like having a credit card, I suppose,’ said Raquel. ‘You know, buy now, pay later?’
    â€˜I suppose so,’ I said. (I imagined having a credit card. I’d like a gold one with a super-shiny little chip on it. And I’d have my very own PIN number too.)
    â€˜What did you say your friend’s name was?’
    Had I mentioned a name? Well, I was going to have to now, wasn’t I? ‘Harry,’ I said.
    â€˜Never heard of Extensions,’ she said. ‘Are you sure?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I continued.