What the Seven Thunders Said
She was cute, I'd give her that. One of Nabakov's little demons, a temptress who looked all of fifteen at the most, but she was old as starlight.
"What're you lookin' at?" she asked me, moving down three short steps from the mobile home we were living in at the time.
"Stars." I barely glanced at her, deliberately because if I hadn't made a point of it I'd have looked at her all night long and nothing else. It's happened before.
"I brought you a coke." She set the can down on the old metal table next to the lawn chairs. It had been painted white for a little while, now it was red with rust, black in the moonlight.
"It's the oldest thing in the universe." I talked around the cigarette in my mouth. I had my hands behind my head and I didn't feel much like moving them.
"Starlight," I breathed. "It's older than the stars that made it."
"It ain't older than me." She sat down, stretching her long legs out in front of her, digging her bare heels into the hard dirt. She was naked, like she'd just been born.
"I know." I pinched my Camel and looked at it, took another puff and tossed it away. "But you ain't in the universe, are you?"
"Not hardly!" she laughed, tossing her white hair back from her golden eyes. She had a generous mouth. I loved her mouth.
"So," I shrugged.
"Now I know why he likes you so much," she observed, taking a sip of her own soda.
"He?" I kept looking up. "Who's he? God?"
"God?" She really did laugh then. "No, not Him. Don't be silly."
"There's a lot of he's out there." I smiled at the Big Dipper.
"Livermore? Livermore…live er more…" I shrugged.
"Yeah, he says you know the secret."
"I used to, but then I forgot it." I looked over her, just on my way to see my Coke, and it hurt for a second, making me wince.
"Maybe that's the secret," she giggled.
"Maybe." I opened my soda with a snick and a fizzle.
"Anyway, he likes you."
"Well, that's always good to know," I nodded, taking a drink. "If I see him again, I'm still gonna kill him though."
"You can't kill Death." She poured Coca-cola across her stomach, rubbing it into her flesh experimentally.
"I can." I had to watch her, I didn't have a choice.
"So you say." She was smiling. "I want to take a bath in this stuff."
"Because, it feels nice. Like the fire, especially when it's cold like this."
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm serious!" she stared at me. "You have no idea what it's like being here. If you did, you'd let me go."
"I know exactly what it's like being here." I lifted my left arm, gesturing around us. "I live here, remember?"
I shrugged at that. "When did you see Livermore anyway?"
"The other day. He stopped by, you know." She giggled at my little frown. "Don't be jealous, Laz."
"I'm not." I drank some coke, as if to prove my nonchalance.
"Yes, you are." She took a little breath, like a sigh through her pert little nose, and looked up. "Still human after all these years."
"You complain too much."
"I don't complain at all," I protested. "You're the one bringing all this up. I'm just watching the sky."
"Same thing. Watching the sky…" she was smiling, I could hear it, "…Complaining. It all comes to the same thing in the end."
"I didn't know you were a philosopher."
"Aren't we all?" She tapped her fingers on the taut skin of her stomach. "Sticky."
"The kid next door was asking about you," I said, but I was lying. I just wanted to change the subject.
"What kid?" That got her attention and I smiled to myself.
"The red head, Shelly, or Shirley," I shrugged. "That six year old next door."
"Shania," Uzi corrected me.
"Whatever. She wanted to know why you don't have a belly button." The thought had just come to me and I almost spoiled it by laughing.
"She did not."
"She did, I swear to God," I said seriously, taking the opportunity to blaspheme. "She asked me how come my friend ain't even got no belly button."
"I know you're lying now."
"I said, 'Well…She came from an egg!'" I laughed.
"Heh!" Uzi smiled despite herself. The truth was that very few people ever saw her, not her beautiful face, not her perfect form, and certainly not her lack of a belly button.
"Angels come from eggs," I smiled under my breath. "Another mystery solved." We were quiet for a long while, until the sun was just starting to draw the horizon pink.
"Yeah?" I replied in that same soft voice
"Take me to bed. I'm tired."
She reached over, touching my arm and I was suddenly overwhelmed by her grace. Uziel could make me feel whatever she desired, with a glance, or a touch, or just a word. It was hardly fair, but that was another condition of the universe.
"Jeez, I hate those fuckin' Yankees!" the guy next to me was saying. It was still early back in New York, almost closing time here though.
I was sitting in ‘Bram's, a little place just off the strip. I hadn't been paying a lot of attention and my Hebrew was rusty, so I'd kept my head down and savored my Heineken. It was my first beer in a long, fucking long time.
"Bet you don't like the Padres much either, eh?" I chuckled at my little joke.
"What?" He was looking at me, but I ignored him.
Just like I was gonna ignore this Hebe.
"Hey baby, buy you a drink?"
"Fuck off." I turned away from him. He was third guy to hit on me in the last half-hour and it was annoying.
"You look familiar." Some woman was sitting down next to me, tall and dark and she didn't look like a dyke, so maybe she meant it. "Do I know you from someplace?"
"Not from around here," I gave her a shake of my head. "Not with that accent."
"American," she nodded. "I can't place yours though. What is that...Greek?"
"Aramaic." I actually smiled as Jeter lined a double into right field and the man next to me groaned.
"Come on." The woman was interested now, like the tourist she was pretending to be. I ignored her.
"You know who I hate?" I asked the bartender. He'd been standing there polishing glasses and listening to every word.
"Who's that?" he asked with a smile, expecting a punch line maybe.
"Jesus," I said, lifting my glass. "I really hate that nail pounding son of a bitch."
The guy watching the ballgame looked at me again.
"And he can't even hit," I grinned. "Two-twenty lifetime..." I was nodding, as if I'd know that, "...tops."
"You, uh...might want to slow down, miss," the bartender suggested and that was funny as hell.
"Yeah!" I laughed. "What's the rush, right?"
I stood up, throwing some Russian rubles on the bar, maybe some Canuck money too. It looked a little funny. "Which way's the Wailing Wall from here?" I asked the bartender. "I gotta take a leak."
I thought that was pretty humorous too, but no one else did. Jerusalem was the same as it had always been, a dull, mirthless shithole in the middle of nowhere. I was only here to collect a debt and then I'd be gone like the wind.
"Lazzzzzz…" It was like an old radiator dying, the way he said it.
"Oh." I caught his reflection in the window of a closed shop. "There you are. I'd just about given up."
"This town isn't safe for you," the Angel of Death told me, and coming from him the words carried a certain amount of weight. Or they would have under normal, regular conditions. But besides being me, I was a little drunk too.
"You would know." I brushed a strand of long black hair from my eyes.
For some reason, well for a variety of reasons, I always found myself posing for this guy. He was the only one in the entire world who made me feel…horny. Even Uzi didn't make me feel like that. It was a death thing, I thought, and I hated him for it. I thrust my hips out a little, tucking my thumbs in the small pockets of my leather hipsters, and rocked my hips, just a little. He liked it too and me and Livermore had a real love-hate thing going.
"I liked you better as a man, I think," Livermore said, materializing finally and appearing as young man of twenty-two maybe, nicely dressed, but the beard had to go. It was short and scrappy and made him look like a French philosopher or something.
"I was never a man!" I laughed at that and started walking, the angel falling into step beside me.
"That's not what I read."
"You believe the Bible?" I glanced at him. "And how long you been doing this job?"
"Not long enough," I interrupted, my resentment finally showing. "Not long enough to fuck my girlfriends."
"Who?" He looked at me and then turned away quickly. "Uzi…that bitch. She said she wouldn't say anything."
"She talks in her sleep, man," I shook my head. "Never trust an angel."
"Look, Laz, I'm sorry. I stopped by and she was there…" he held up his hands, "…you know what she's like."
"Yeah," I had to agree with him there. Uziel could seduce Satan himself, and had on at least two occasions that I knew about.
"It didn't mean nothing anyway."
"It meant something to me." I paused, turning to look at my best friend. "It meant something."
"Yeah," Livermore nodded, looking down at his feet. "So…what? You want to fight? Here?" He looked around. "This place has enough troubles and…"
"No, I don't want to fight," I sighed. "What is it with you and fighting all the time anyway?"
"Me?" He looked shocked. "Remember Chicago? The big fire? That wasn't no cow, Laz, that was you! And where was that place…Chernobyl? Like that was a bad steam valve…Come on! You're the one! And you fight dirty."
"I fight to win," I shrugged. Chicago hadn't really been my fault, but Chernobyl… "Anyway, I don't want to fight, but you owe me."
"Okay," he shrugged. "Just ask."
"I want that bastard, the German," I said.
"The German? Why? The guy's half-dead anyway…"
"I want him all the way dead." I was walking again.
"I'm not sure I can…"
"You're the fucking Angel of Death!" I rolled my eyes. "I'm not asking for every new-born in Italy, just one old man. That's all."
"Well…" Livermore made a face, "…It's not that I can't do it, just that, well…It's political, Laz, come on."
"Political?" I really did have to pee. "What's political about it? You said yourself the guy's going soon anyway. Just give him a little push…Tonight."
I undid my pants, pulling them and my thong down so I could squat on the sidewalk.
"But…" The angel watched me.
"I can't go if you stare." I made a face at him.
"Just think about water…Niagara Falls, tumbling and splashing." He grinned at me and he wasn't gonna look away.
"The faucet in my bathroom…" I stuck out my tongue.
"Tourists." Livermore looked over his shoulder and three drunk guys were stumbling towards us.
"Everybody pisses," I shrugged and finally let my bladder go with a sigh, spraying urine on the streets of Jerusalem, much as I'd done 2000 years before. Some things never change.
The guys walked past me slowly, staring and laughing. They were dark, Palestinians breaking the faith, but that was their problem. I just smiled at them while Livermore stood there with his arms folded, smiling at me. They couldn't see him anyway.
"Tonight, Livermore." I stopped pissing finally, it had been a lot, and I pulled up my clothes, bouncing on my heels to get those pants over my hips again.
"If anyone finds out…" Livermore pursed his lips, but he'd do it. He owed me.
"Who's gonna know?" I made an innocent face. "Not from me they won't."
"Come on." Livermore started walking again and we went a while in silence. "This won't end it, you know. There are others involved, it isn't just him."
"I know," I nodded. "You just do the Pope, and I'll take care of the Jesuits." He looked at me questioningly. "Hey, I got a plan, Livermore. I got it all figured out."
"Is that right?" He smiled and just then there was thunder, sharp and short, the echoes setting off car alarms in the distance.
"Fuck," I rolled my eyes. "You'll probably blame that one on me too."
"Heh. Business is good. Where are you staying?" He was putting a hand in the small of my back and I shivered.
"Can't stay long, Laz. The Boss has everybody running around like a bunch of chickens." Michael had stopped by my hotel room.
"That right?" I stretched, pulling my too small t-shirt up over my tummy and exposing my lily white panties.
"Uh-huh," he licked his lips, staring at my crotch.
"You want some?" I asked the Arch-Angel.
"What?" he swallowed hard.
"Do you want some…" I gestured at the tray on my bed, a hot breakfast that had arrived about two minutes before he had, "…breakfast?"
"Oh." He looked momentarily embarrassed, and then fleetingly disappointed.
"Have a seat already," I grinned, pointing at a chair. "You make me nervous."
Michael was ancient, like all angels, but in relative terms he was just a kid. Arch-Angels were just about the weakest of the lot and everyone pulled their chains mercilessly. People like me were the worst. Other angels, demons, the odd celestial, they'd have fun…But it took a real human being to understand humor. That was God's greatest gift to us, in my humble opinion, a sense of humor to appreciate all the shit He fucked up.
"So what's the deal?" I asked, stuffing my face with a Belgian waffle.
"The Pope died last night." Michael put his lips together, nodding and looking around the room so he could sneak looks at my crotch. I sat Indian style, exposing myself as much as I could, and I wished I had an excuse to take the silly things off.
"The Pope, huh?" I chewed thoughtfully. "Good for him, lucky bastard."
"Good for…" Michael looked sharply at me and then enlightenment filled his face, "…Yeah, right. Sorry, Lazarus."
I shrugged. I'd been dead before and Jesus had pulled a miracle out of his ass and raised me. The Bible got that much right. The stuff they got wrong were all the little things, like the fact that I was a girl for one thing, and the fact that since I'd been dead…and then got raised…I couldn't die again. That was a biggie. It was the reason I'd had PMS for the last two millennia.
"No big thing, Mike…Oops!" I spilled a little strawberry jelly on the crotch of my panties and I rubbed it around with my finger, just making a sugary red mess. It looked like virginal blood, actually, and I was quite pleased with it.
The Arch-Angel froze in his seat and watched breathlessly.
"Shoot." I made clucking sounds and finally just straightened my legs and took my panties off, holding them up so we could inspect them. "They're ruined." I looked at Michael and he was looking at my little pussy. "And I don't have another pair." I sounded like I was going to cry.
"Oh, ummm…" Michael licked his lips.
"Be a dear and ask the girls next door if I can borrow a pair, would you Mikey?" I batted my eyelashes at him.
"Next door?" He glanced over his shoulder uncertainly.
"Yeah, there's a couple Swedish flight attendants or something…I don't know," I shook my head. "They're right next door anyway, just go ask them."
"Ask them," Michael nodded slowly.
"For a pair of panties," I nodded too. "Go on, hurry…I'm all naked here."
"Uh, sure Lazarus. I'll, uh…" he stood up, his handsome face turning red.
"A thong if they have one," I added, just to rub it in.
Angels were so stupid sometimes and Michael…I mean, the guy had gone toe-to-toe with Lucifer, you know? He had a sword bigger than…well, big enough to rend creation asunder, put it that way. But send the boy out on a simple errand…
I ate my waffle slowly, waiting for him to come back, and rubbed my clit a little.
"They didn't have any thongs," Michael apologized, his face burning up. "But, um, they had these…" He held out a pair of leopard print bikini panties, pinching just a little of the nylon material between his finger and thumb.
"You're such a dear," I smiled and sat there, making him come close enough to lay them carefully on my bed. "So brave and strong too."
"Awww..." he looked away, smiling and blushing, "...It was easy."
Gabriel came around later, like three minutes after Michael left. And I wasn't supposed to be suspicious? Heh…Angels were so predictable.
Angel cock is big, as a general rule, and Gabby wasn't the sort to break rules. So it was nice for me. It felt an awful lot like rape, the way I took him. I had him on his back with those broad white wings spread wide, and I plucked one of his feathers while I rode his cock hard.
It was sharp, the pointed tip of that quill, sharp like a razor and I carved a big lazy L into his perfect chest. Black blood ran from his skin, but he healed as fast as I cut him and Gabriel didn't feel a thing. I rolled my ass slowly, rocking my hips and reaching back to feel his thick hot prick sliding wetly in and out of me.
I was going to cum. I always did and ever since I'd died I'd been multi-orgasmic and I wondered what the connection was sometimes. Maybe that was just Jesus having a little fun with me. He could be like that sometimes. The man had a real subtle wit and he liked his little jokes.
"Ohhh yeah…Gab…Fuck me good…" I breathed, pressing my other hand to the black wetness on his skin.
Angel blood is black and it never dries. I licked it from my fingers, sucking them one at a time like long thin cocks while he watched me. His strong, soft hands were holding my hips, pushing and pulling me now, because it was feeling good for him too. He didn't get laid too often, it wasn't like he could pick up a girl off the street. There was only me, that bitch Lilith maybe, and one or two others.
That was why he'd come around, I knew. Not because of the Pope, even God wasn't that paranoid, although he should have been. No, me being back in Jerusalem was like turning on a neon sign that said ‘Fuck Me!' and they all came around, sniffing my ass like dogs in heat. Raphael wouldn't be far behind, and I'd be sucking his cock before lunch, probably.
Angels were a lot like dogs. Except dogs were smarter; more dependable too, in my honest opinion. You could trust a dog to be a dog, but angels? They were whatever God needed them to be. At least the Arch-Angels were. The others, like Uziel, they were free. And guys like Livermore, they were just doing their jobs. But Gabriel and his brothers…
"Roll over…" he was licking his lips, "…I want it the other way…"
I giggled at him and I was still high from my cum and happy I'd had it so quick, because I knew Gab was going to want my ass. He was big on that, the same way Raphael liked getting his dick sucked. Gabby had to fuck anus if he wanted to get off. It was his penance for following orders, because no good deed goes unpunished, even in heaven.
"Yeah…" I swallowed thickly, pulling my well stretched cunt off his penis slowly, our juices running out of me, down his shaft briefly.
I got on my hands and knees, blinking at my breakfast tray balanced on the nightstand next to the bed. I reached for it, grabbing the last two packs of unopened strawberry jelly and I tore one open with my teeth, squeezing the plastic cup so I had a gob of it on my fingers.
"What are you doing?" Gabriel giggled like a Cherub.
"Little lube," I breathed, smiling at him over my shoulder as I smeared red jelly over my tight little ass, working it into my sphincter, and then I did the same thing with the other packet.
Gabriel just watched, stroking his dark, sticky cock with his hand, grinning like a dog. He acted all innocent at first, but once you got him hard, he was as sick as the next guy.
"Remind you of anyone?" I pushed my middle finger into my ass, wriggling it around.
He frowned at that, but he shouldn't have. He'd been the one who'd knocked up Mary, the Virgin Mary, fucking her tight little ass hard and making a baby without leaving a shred of proof behind...Except for her torn and bloody rectum, red and sticky, like it had been greased up with strawberry jelly. That was why he couldn't cum anywhere but in my ass. He'd raped her hard and God had pretended not to notice.
It had been a good trick, one of the Man's better ones, sending an angel to knock a girl up through her anus. I almost wished Gab would do it like that for me.
"Come on, baby…" I crooked my dirty middle finger at him. "Give me a little messiah."
"Blasphemous bitch…" Gab chuckled and he got close behind me, pressing his cock to my strawberry covered asshole and giving it a hard little jab. "You should be praying while you're…Ugh!...on your knees like that."
"Ohhh fuck…sloooow…Jesus!" I groaned because it hurt and I dropped my head, feeling my body tense and I sucked tepid Jerusalem air into my burning lungs.
"He won't help you." Gabriel slammed his cock inside me hard, punishing me with it.
This was the real Gabriel, the one people think of when they imagine him. Beautiful and perfect, all gold and light, and full of vigor. The defender of Heaven, the nemesis of Satan, leading God's army into battle. He was strong and ruthless and purposed at last and I loved him for that. Kicking ass and fucking ass, it was all the same to him, and what he was built for…Everything else just confused the boy.
I was rubbing my clit while he stretched my anus painfully. I didn't do this a lot, in fact I only did it with him, and it had been a long time. Too long and my ass had forgotten just what it felt like to be sodomized by a big angelic penis. But it was like riding a bike, you know, without the seat, so I figured it out quickly enough.
I felt his hands on my breast, his thumbs over my nipples, playing with me, using my tits to drive me back and forth. He was a good fuck and I severely loved it when he came around. I had fistfuls of bed sheet and I was panting like a bitch in heat, pushing my ass back to meet his thrusts so that our bodies made soft, wet slapping sounds in the morning light.
The pain was excruciating and I liked that too. It wasn't going to kill me, I thought with an inward giggle and an outward sigh, it wasn't even going to hurt very long. I healed as fast as he did and every little tear he was making in my rectum was repaired an instant later, ready to be torn again with Gabriel's next violent thrust.
And it was violent, that was the beauty of it. There is no tenderness in angels; it's just an illusion, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, invented to sell soap to housewives and chocolate to babies. Gabriel had done bad things, terrible things. He'd started more wars than greed, lust, and gluttony combined, just because he liked the fighting. He was the god of war, Mars himself in my bed. Ares in my ass. Gabriel in my heart.
And if I had my way, I'd be giving him the biggest war yet…And soon, very soon, I hoped.