In The Flesh

In The Flesh Part 10

"Wait a minute." I jerked my hand away from his. "Let me get this straight, you gave up being an angel not because you were angry at god or the gods or whoever the hell it was you worked for. You gave up being an angel because you loved Him?"

"Oh, I stand completely by what I said earlier; all gods are bastards, and to serve them is folly. They have no loyalty but to their own pride." He reached to push a strand of hair behind my ears and I shoved his hand away. He simply shrugged and continued. "I felt that way when I was sent off to babysit Him. Well that's how I saw it at the time – me being sent off to serve a lesser being. I was a bit of an arrogant prick back then." He offered a twitch of a smile. "Guess I learned a thing or two about who was the lesser being, didn't I?"

"But you said you became human because you loved Him. Care to explain that?"

"Fuck, Susan, you make it sound like I'm a cheating husband or something. Yes, I became human because I loved Him, but if I hadn't believed that I was giving him a gift, if I hadn't believed that it was what he wanted more than anything, I don't know if I would have done it, OK? I ... I just don't know."

For a moment we sat in silence, him twisting the edge of the duvet between his fingers. At last he spoke, avoiding my gaze. "I'm not sorry now. But for a long time ... Well let's just say it was a high price I paid." Then he added, as though I needed further explanation, which I suppose I did, "He was so genuine, so unassuming with me. I was completely taken in, completely unaware of His deception until it was too late."

I felt like I was invading his privacy. I felt like I was asking questions that were none of my business, and yet, my life was in this man's hands, this ex-angel's hands. So I asked anyway. "Why did He want you to become human? I would have thought as an angel you'd be able to ... you know ... a whole lot longer and you'd not ... I don't know ... you'd not get tired. As an angel you'd have the stamina to keep up with Him."

This time the laugh was bitter enough to make goose bumps rise on my arms. "He wanted the feel of humanity, He wanted the touch of flesh and blood, even though he could only have it vicariously. No matter how often he took me, no matter that I was as insatiable as he was, I still wasn't flesh and blood. I didn't know it at the time, but he'd already developed a dangerous lust for mortals. Later, much later, after the woman I work for had freed me from him, I came to realize that he fed off the humanity of his lovers." The straight line of his jaw hardened like iron and his fists clenched. "He ... He got off on using them up. It was only really good for him if he knew that in the end they would sacrifice themselves for him. A god complex, I suppose, but then who could argue with Him?" He glanced up at me then looked away. "I guess he finds human mortality more arousing than any other part of being corporeal. Probably because the bastard never has to experience it."

"Jesus, this just keeps getting more and more convoluted," I said. "Did you just say the woman you work for, the one you steal for, she saved you from Him?"

Michael shoved to his feet and pulled me up off the bed too. "Look, can we continue this conversation later? I'm starving. For now why don't you get dressed," he nodded to my bag sitting next to the bathroom door. "You need to eat. We both do. When you're ready, join me in the kitchen and I'll tell you whatever you want to know. As much as I can anyway." He turned and left without another word.

In the kitchen, I found him dumping spaghetti into a pot of boiling water. He looked up and offered a smile that belied the serious situation in which we found ourselves. "Hope you like carbonara. I'm not a chef, but I don't do bad with pasta." He poured a glass of pinot grigio and handed it to me. Then he put me to work on a salad while he sautéed the pancetta. We worked in companionable silence, maybe both of us trying to pretend that we were just ordinary lovers with the munchies after hot sex, and the sex had been hot. My stomach bottomed at the thought of the mark he's left above my breast, and then just as quickly I felt an overwhelming chill at the sight of the bruises on my biceps. I grabbed up the blue hoodie he had left carelessly draped over the back of a kitchen chair and wriggled into it. He shot me a pleased smile. He liked the idea of me wearing his clothes. I liked it too, but it was way less satisfying to know I wore them to cover bruises left by another would-be lover.