Heaven Sent (16 page)

“Five minutes early is five minutes late,” said Carly to the group in a snide tone as I stepped up, tying my apron strings.

“I’m not sure what that means but… sorry.” I added an apologetic smile to let her know I meant it.

“It means,” she said, her voice turning more vinegary, “that Insomniacs must be ten minutes early to be considered on time. It’s the Insomniacs’ way.” She wore her jet black hair close, like a boy. Her angry lips were neatly painted with the dark maroon lipstick preferred by Goths.

“I didn’t know there was an Insomniac’s way,” I said in my own defense.

“That’s the purpose of this indoctrination that you’re
late
for.”

A few of the new hires snickered.

“See, but I’m not yet late because I haven’t yet been indoctrinated. So for the unindoctrinated, I’m actually on time.” I was trying for a save.

“Stop talking,” she said, brusquely brushing me aside.

She went through the entire indoctrination speech without once glancing in my direction. Her white supervisor’s tee appeared to be starched and pressed. She reminded me of a drill sergeant who enjoyed beating up on her young platoon.

When she finished explaining the Insomniacs’ way, which took an entire fifteen minutes, she began handing out assignments to the new hires. She told Julie, the girl standing next to me, to observe the cashier. The hires dispersed to their stations, and then Carly started away, still without so much as a peek in my direction.

“Umm, excuse me. You didn’t give me an assignment.”

She wheeled on me, a bully ready to pounce, with a cruel smile curling the corners of her lips. “You wanna know why I don’t have an assignment for you?” she asked in a loud sing-song that everyone could hear.

The anger slammed into me like a freight train. Not her anger—mine. It came so quickly and hit so hard, I took two steps back. I squeezed my hands into fists, my knuckles turning white, nails digging into my palms, hoping to get a handle on the rage that was suddenly spiraling inside me. But it was coursing uncontrollably.

“Yes. I do want to know why I don’t have an assignment,” I said in a low, seething tone. “But if I were you, I’d think long and hard before answering that question.” The words came out of my mouth without thought. The dark thing inside had seized control.

Carly’s eyes began to narrow, and I could tell she was about to give me a piece of her mind… until she saw my face. I don’t know what she saw, but I knew the rage burning inside was splayed across my face. Something about my look told her
this girl is not to be messed with
.

Her eyes grew wide with surprise as she suddenly realized I was no longer her prey. I had become her tormentor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she barked. She was trying to stand up to me because by now every one of her coworkers had stopped what they were doing and were watching. There was an edge to her voice, but it was all fake, and everyone knew it.

It was my turn to smile. Mine was the deadly smile of a gunslinger. “It means, I want you to be sure you give me the assignment I deserve,” I said slowly as if talking to an idiot, my eyebrows arching slyly. “You weren’t planning on sending me home, or something degrading like that, were you?” There was a clear threat buried beneath all the sweetness on top.

“Huh? Well… No.”

“I mean, I’m sure that’s not the Insomniacs’ way, now is it?” My voice went even lower, so low I didn’t recognize it coming out of me. I took a step closer.

“No, no, of course not. Insomniacs help one another when there’s a problem.” She shot a pleading glance at her coworkers, hoping one of them would speak up and agree with her. No one did.

“And that’s what I’m trying to do here, Carly. I’m trying to be a good Insomniac and help you. Wouldn’t want you making a mistake you’d regret now, would we?” I moved even closer, invading all her personal space.

Activity in the coffee shop had ceased. The place had gotten so quiet you could hear a pin drop onto a pillow.

Carly swallowed hard, not daring to meet my gaze. “No,” she said in a near silent response. She was starting to tremble.

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I took a grand step backward. “So now that you’ve had time to consider my…
talents
, what is my assignment?”

“Umm…” She was totally flummoxed. Afraid to say the wrong thing, her eyes darted around, looking to her coworkers for help.

“She can work with me,” said Andie, the barista.

“Everyone needs to learn about the different grinds,” called Bob, who was grinding coffee.

“I don’t mind having two observers,” called Jennifer, the cashier.

One by one each seasoned employee offered me the opportunity to work with them.

“Take your pick,” said Carly, turning back to me, still shaking. “I’m going on break,” she called loudly. Then she pulled off her apron, threw it behind the counter and hustled out the door.

Later that afternoon, Carly Sanchez would resign her post as shift supervisor at the Insomniacs’ Cafe. She would not be missed.

*

I fled into the bathroom where I began splashing cold water onto my face. It was as if I were trying to wake myself up from a horrible dream. I leaned heavily on the sink and looked in the mirror. I saw what Carly had seen. A monster. It was me, and yet it wasn’t me—a horrific, cartoonish version of myself, staring at me with wicked eyes.

A sickening churn unsettled my stomach. I moved to the toilet, feeling that at any moment I would heave my guts up. It was the opposite of the feeling I’d had at the wave pool, warm and delicious. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Carly had stood up to me.
What would the thing have done to her?
I squeezed my eyes tight and shivered at the thought. Fortunately for both of us, Carly was a coward who got her kicks out of intimidating people she felt were weak.

After several deep breaths, the dark thing began retreating, disappearing deep inside me. Another look in the mirror proved it was gone. I was me again. Cute little Megan Barnett. Okay, I wasn’t so cute, and I wasn’t so little, and my eyes were still bloodshot and filled with worry, but I was no longer a monster. I was back.

It took another few minutes for me to fix my makeup and get myself together, after which I exited the bathroom to begin my first day’s work. When I got back onto the floor, everyone applauded, including all the new people who didn’t even know Carly Sanchez. She must have been really mean to all of them, and they were happy someone had finally stood up to her.

Of course, I couldn’t take the credit. It wasn’t me who had stood up to her bullying ways. I would have taken her crap like everyone else, but the dark thing inside me wasn’t having it.

“Let’s get you started over here,” called Bob, standing by the two big coffee grinders. “Coffee grinds 101.”

My shift moved along quickly, and as it wound down, all my nervousness about the new job vanished. Everyone was so friendly and helpful. I was given a crash course in everything from the various grinds to how to make a skinny caramel macchiato. I could tell it was going to be fun working at Insomniacs’, and to top it off, I was earning my first official paycheck.
Hoorah!

I was in the back room learning clean-up and maintenance protocols when I heard a male voice ordering a small coffee. Guy. I flushed with excitement when I’d heard him. My boyfriend was visiting me at my job.

Perfect timing
, I thought. It was my last assignment of the day. I arrived on the floor to find Guy seated in a high back chair, cool shades covering his dreamy eyes, smiling at me.

“Hey.” I moved to the comfy chair next to his.

“Hey. Good coffee,” he said, nodding toward his cup.

“Thank you… I mean, it’s not like I made it, but I do work here.”

“Worker’s pride.”

“Something like that.”

He continued to smile. It was a smile that touched his eyes and made me feel warm all over. “You look good in that uniform.”

“Really? A white tee shirt and an apron is all I need to turn a guy’s head?”

He laughed. “What I mean is you look professional in the uniform. I like it.”

“Thanks. It feels good having a job.” I noticed some of my coworkers trying to listen in. “I’m done for the day. Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.” We started out.

“Hey,” called Bob as we neared the door. “Nine a.m.,” he said, tapping his wrist.

“You got it. Umm, ten to nine. The Insomniacs’ way.”

It was a beautiful evening. The sweltering heat had given way to a manageable heat. Guy took my hand, and we walked to the outdoor mall. Over the years, I’d observed many young lovers in the mall holding hands and strolling. Some days I couldn’t help but be envious. They’d fill the air with the kind of giddy laughter that told of relationships filled with promise, and they made even the coldest hearts smile. Today I was one of them. Today I would fill the air with the laughter of love.

“What are your dreams?” Guy asked as we entered the mall.

The question was so out of left field, especially for Guy, I couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” he said, screwing up his face.

“You’ve never asked me anything like that before.”

“Sure I have.”

I shook my head. “No. I would have remembered. Our relationship has always been about the here and now.”

I grinned slyly as I thought of our daily goal at school: to meet in the stairwell as often as possible for a make-out session. That was the biggest dream we’d had. Guy must have picked up on what I was thinking because he began grinning as well.

“Okay, okay. That was the past,” he said. “It’s time we looked into the future.”

We were passing one of my favorite boutiques, and I could see they’d recently updated the window. As much as I wanted to stop and peek in, this conversation was more important. “Let’s see, college for sure. I like math, so maybe I’ll go into the sciences,” I said as we moved past the boutique.

“Doctor, Megan Barnett,” Guy said with a smile.

“Why not?” I thought about it a little more. “I want to be happy,” I said after a while.

“I’m afraid to ask what would make you happy.”

I laughed. He hadn’t said anything funny, but I laughed anyway. “No, no, buster. You started down this road of questioning. You can’t stop now. Ask away.” I squeezed his hand.

“Okay. What would make you happy?” Now that I’d prompted him to ask the question, I was nervous about answering it.

A couple had just moved past us pushing a baby in a stroller. The young man was animatedly telling his wife a story. She was half-listening, half-keeping an eye on their toddler. In that moment, I thought of old movies where the hero always arrives to save the day at the perfect time. This couple and their baby had arrived at the perfect time because, when I looked at them, I knew exactly what I was going to say.

I stopped walking and released Guy’s hand. I wanted to look into his face and see his reaction.

“Marriage,” I said, the word coming off my tongue sharp like a razor’s edge. “A little Nephilim baby would be a nice start.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but his eyes were smiling and that gave me confidence. “You mean… me?”

“Yes, you. Duh!” I laughed, happy to discover I wasn’t overcome by fear or doubt. I had told it to him truthfully, and the words left me feeling amazing. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I want to be a housewife. Remember, I do have professional goals.”

“Of course you do.”

We continued through the mall, and before long were in the business district, away from the shops, cafes, and strolling lovers.

“Let me ask you something,” I continued. “Have you given any serious thought about being a fallen angel?”

“
Falling
angel,” he said.

“What’s the difference?” I was certain his response was a stall for time. Yet he took my hand and escorted me to a bus bench, where we sat alone, away from the evening crowd. He looked into my eyes before speaking, and I knew his answer wouldn’t be something flip or off the top of his head.

“When an angel chooses to wed a mortal and live on earth, he is a falling angel. The belief is once he or she starts to fall, he or she will eventually wind up with Satan.” He took both my hands in his as he spoke.

“So once an angel starts downhill, heaven believes he or she won’t stay here on earth, but will eventually go all the way?”

“That is the belief,” he said solemnly.

“That’s ridiculous. There have been Nephilim living on earth for centuries. I’m sure most angels who mate with mortals don’t wind up with Satan. They wind up like Harrison’s father—with families.”

“I do not deny it,” he said. “It’s just a little heavenly propaganda. And it works. A falling angel can always reclaim heaven if he denounces his life on earth. But once he has crossed the line, he is damned to hell for all eternity. The idea that one could lose heaven forever keeps angels in line.”

His expression turned vulnerable and sad as he spoke, and I wanted to reach over and hug him. Instead I said: “Don’t worry. That won’t happen with you. If we choose to be together, my love will keep you from falling further.”

He snorted out a laugh. “That’s one powerful love,” he said.

“I am known to possess powerful magic,” I said in a comical spooky voice. I moved his right hand to my lips and kissed it. “I would do whatever I can to keep those I love safe,” I whispered.

“I love you,” he whispered back.

In the past, these words would have caught me off guard and left me dizzy with delight. But I wasn’t surprised. I knew he loved me. I could feel it in the way he was looking at me, hear it woven into the fabric of every word he had spoken. He loved me as much as I loved him.

“I know. I love you, too,” I whispered back.

“No. You
don’t
know.” He seemed suddenly agitated. “I love you, and I will never let anyone or anything harm you.” He squeezed both my hands tightly for emphasis, his face moving close to mine as he peered deeply into my eyes.

The change in him caught me off guard. I figured it had something to do with his guilt over his obligation. The superior angels in heaven had betrothed Guy to the beautiful angel, Roxanne. I got the feeling he was finally ready to defy the betrothal the angels had forced upon him and commit to me and me alone.