never seen on his tanned face.
“What? Tell me, Cale…”
“Sit down.” He points to the couch.
I take a seat in the corner of the couch and ignore my instinctto frenetically rub my hands together out of anxiety. A cigarette is what I need. I pull one out and offer it to Cale but he waves it away.
“Charlie, we both need to be careful.” He leans back into the couch and pushes his sandy locks out of his face with both hands. “That woman, fuck, I can’t even believe this is finally happening.”
“
What
is happening?” My words are quick and clear.
Cale takes a deep breath. “We’re being hunted, that’s what’s happening.”
“Hunted? Why?”
“I know a lot more about our kind than you think, Charlie. I’ve been hearing rumors about this for the last two years, little rumblings that something like this would start to happen again.”
I’m already on my second cigarette and it’s only been two minutes.
Cale crosses his legs, then uncrosses them. “They’re called suicide angels. And they’re a lot older than you and I, my friend.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “Angels…”
“They’re almost legendary, Charlie. We’ve only heard rumors of their kind, like they were some type of mythical creature that only existed in the imaginations of a million diseased creatures.” He pauses, then motions for a cigarette. I lit one off the tip of my own and hand it to him. “You ever wonder why our population is dwindling overseas, more so than in the States? Why you never see as many cross the Atlantic to come to the States?”
“I thought it was just an issue of sustenance, you know, the way we need a specific type of blood, maybe the risk of being on a flight without a meal…”
“That’s only the beginning of it. Have you been anywhere else since Abel’s apartment?”
I twist in my seat. “No, just walked straight here.”
“Did she see you?”
“Of course she did.”
“For how long?”
I slide forward on the couch cushion. “Jesus, Cale, she burst into the goddamn room and in a matter of seconds I was hiding behind the door to Abel’s bedroom.”
He shakes his head. “Then she’s most certainly looking for you now. Neither of us are leaving the shop tonight. You can take the couch. I’ll find a blanket somewhere in the back.”
“What makes you think we’ll be safer in the morning?”
“Suicide angels are averse to daylight,” he says. “Or, at least that’s what I’ve heard.”
#
I dream of a million black clouds above a purple sky. I’m sitting in a pool of dirty puddle rain, mud and sand stuck to the bottom of my jeans. A comet trails across the sky and penetrates the moon with a single glittery blow. Ice and snow sparkle into a fiery sideshow of dust and bright green explosions. Abel stands next to me, binoculars glued to his eyes like they were a part of his skin. He removes them for a second and drops them to the ground. The black plastic shatters into a million tiny piece, little shards scampering away like an army of imaginary ants. Abel points to the sky and a thick gray ooze slithers out of his eyes.
“They’re coming,” he says.
#
I wake to the sounds of humming needles and soft whispers, the fuzzy reminders of sleeping somewhere other than home. I jerk upright and quickly realize I’m lying on the couch in Cale’s tattoo shop. A woman with hair as black as tar sits across from me reading a newspaper. She’s covered in about a gallon of ink, two full sleeves of dragons, koi fish, roses and skulls. She pushes down the paper and smiles at me, nods at the steaming mug inthe center of the coffee table.
“Cale poured that for you a couple minutes ago,” she says. “Drink up, it’ll make you feel better.”
I rub the slumber out of my eyes and slowly sniff the contents of the mug. If it’s from Cale, it’s coffee with milk and whiskey. The first sip is bliss, pure awareness mixed with a quick jolt of sweet amber. I tilt forward, rest the
“What? Tell me, Cale…”
“Sit down.” He points to the couch.
I take a seat in the corner of the couch and ignore my instinctto frenetically rub my hands together out of anxiety. A cigarette is what I need. I pull one out and offer it to Cale but he waves it away.
“Charlie, we both need to be careful.” He leans back into the couch and pushes his sandy locks out of his face with both hands. “That woman, fuck, I can’t even believe this is finally happening.”
“
What
is happening?” My words are quick and clear.
Cale takes a deep breath. “We’re being hunted, that’s what’s happening.”
“Hunted? Why?”
“I know a lot more about our kind than you think, Charlie. I’ve been hearing rumors about this for the last two years, little rumblings that something like this would start to happen again.”
I’m already on my second cigarette and it’s only been two minutes.
Cale crosses his legs, then uncrosses them. “They’re called suicide angels. And they’re a lot older than you and I, my friend.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “Angels…”
“They’re almost legendary, Charlie. We’ve only heard rumors of their kind, like they were some type of mythical creature that only existed in the imaginations of a million diseased creatures.” He pauses, then motions for a cigarette. I lit one off the tip of my own and hand it to him. “You ever wonder why our population is dwindling overseas, more so than in the States? Why you never see as many cross the Atlantic to come to the States?”
“I thought it was just an issue of sustenance, you know, the way we need a specific type of blood, maybe the risk of being on a flight without a meal…”
“That’s only the beginning of it. Have you been anywhere else since Abel’s apartment?”
I twist in my seat. “No, just walked straight here.”
“Did she see you?”
“Of course she did.”
“For how long?”
I slide forward on the couch cushion. “Jesus, Cale, she burst into the goddamn room and in a matter of seconds I was hiding behind the door to Abel’s bedroom.”
He shakes his head. “Then she’s most certainly looking for you now. Neither of us are leaving the shop tonight. You can take the couch. I’ll find a blanket somewhere in the back.”
“What makes you think we’ll be safer in the morning?”
“Suicide angels are averse to daylight,” he says. “Or, at least that’s what I’ve heard.”
#
I dream of a million black clouds above a purple sky. I’m sitting in a pool of dirty puddle rain, mud and sand stuck to the bottom of my jeans. A comet trails across the sky and penetrates the moon with a single glittery blow. Ice and snow sparkle into a fiery sideshow of dust and bright green explosions. Abel stands next to me, binoculars glued to his eyes like they were a part of his skin. He removes them for a second and drops them to the ground. The black plastic shatters into a million tiny piece, little shards scampering away like an army of imaginary ants. Abel points to the sky and a thick gray ooze slithers out of his eyes.
“They’re coming,” he says.
#
I wake to the sounds of humming needles and soft whispers, the fuzzy reminders of sleeping somewhere other than home. I jerk upright and quickly realize I’m lying on the couch in Cale’s tattoo shop. A woman with hair as black as tar sits across from me reading a newspaper. She’s covered in about a gallon of ink, two full sleeves of dragons, koi fish, roses and skulls. She pushes down the paper and smiles at me, nods at the steaming mug inthe center of the coffee table.
“Cale poured that for you a couple minutes ago,” she says. “Drink up, it’ll make you feel better.”
I rub the slumber out of my eyes and slowly sniff the contents of the mug. If it’s from Cale, it’s coffee with milk and whiskey. The first sip is bliss, pure awareness mixed with a quick jolt of sweet amber. I tilt forward, rest the
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