Chapter 11
"Whoa…" Sepúlveda whispered, truly marvelled. "Look at those wings…"
"He must be an important one. Look at that breastplate…" De Soto said.
"The Metatron is the highest ranked Archangel of all, the closest to God," Diego explained, also impressed.
"Is that solid gold, or only gold-plated?" De Soto wondered, always materialistic.
"Shhhh! Be quiet now!" Diego whispered. "Let's hear what they have to say!"
The three lost souls watched the supernatural beings with interest, as if witnessing a spectacular, top-notch, theatrical drama.
"Hey, you haven't visited for a while," Azrael said, thrilled to see his comrade, saluting him with a manly arm shake, followed by a macho, shoulder push. "What are you doing in this neighbourhood?"
"Preventing your fall, your reckless fool!" the Voice of God said, a tad stern, but when he saw the concern in his friend's eyes, he smiled. "I got a message for you."
He talked then in a strange language of annoying loud sounds of gibberish, that somehow resembled dolphin talk, with clicks and squeals released at top volume. De Soto, Diego, and Sepúlveda could not understand a thing, but the sound was so powerful and overwhelming something got stirred deeply in their souls, and they automatically dropped on their knees in wonder, as if praying. And so did Azrael, deeply moved, with tears in his eyes.
The Baron didn't know what to do with himself, fretting, so he drunk all the rum he had left, discarded the empty bottle, and left the church in a hurry.
"Thank you, Lord!" Azrael said, lifting his head and arms to the ceiling.
"Get up, please," the Metatron said, helping him to stand. He gave Azrael a bear hug, and then tapped his back enthusiastically. "Congratulations!"
"I can't believe it…" Azrael said as he coyly wiped his strayed tears off.
"You got His Blessings now, so… Go get her, Tiger!" the Metatron said, turning his friend around to face the church's entrance before he slapped his arse.
Azrael followed the Baron outside, and the Metatron walked out behind him. De Soto, Diego, and Sepúlveda got up quickly and also ran outside, unwilling to miss the next scene.
At the plaza, Azrael faced the Baron, coming closer with tentative steps that actually resembled the stealth of a hunting tiger. Samedi spat his cigar to smile broadly, giggling in anticipation, unable to stand still with so much built up tension. The Angel of Death slowly removed the baron's dark glasses to look at him deeply in the eye, and then took his hands, caressing the white gloves with his thumbs. He kissed them softly, with his penetrating, grey-green eyes still on Samedi's black coals. His soothing powers worked its magic, and the Baron relaxed a bit. At last, Azrael declared as solemnly and sincerely as only he could do:
"I - Love - You."
"Yes!" Diego said, delighted, also wondering when he could tell Victoria those three words, if ever. The Metatron looked at him and winked, also pleased, so much he high-fived him.
The Baron's smile broadened a bit more, showing all his pearly whites.
"Azrael, my man! It was time you said those words, you cheeky bugger! Considering it only took you… Yeah, an eternity and a half."
"I love you…and only your cool, sweet lips, will quench my burning desire…" Azrael carried on, undaunted by Death's sarcasm and the onlooker's expectations, lost in the Baron's eyes for a few more seconds while savouring the moment, as if still thinking about the next, logical step.
"Hey, man, a little less conversation, and a little more action, please!"
The Baron took Azrael's head in his gloved hands to give him a kiss. A sweet, slow, tentative first kiss.
"Ew! That's disgusting!" De Soto said, grimacing. Diego sank his elbow on his ribs.
"Shut up! Don't spoil the moment!"
"But… they are men!"
"So? There are no genders, remember? Only… beings. It doesn't matter what they look like."
The Metatron nodded at Diego, approvingly.
Like a soft firefly, Azrael started glowing then, intermittently.
"Do you wish to… collide with me?" he said, hesitating as if a strong rejection could still be a possibility.
"Do you really feel the need to ask? 'course I do, you Silly-Billy… Go on, blow me away!"
"Oh, no, there we go!" the Metatron said, stepping back, urging the mortal souls to do the same. De Soto, Diego and Sepúlveda took cover behind his wings, still looking at the couple through the feathers, not missing a bit.
Azrael and the Baron embraced in a passionate kiss then, lighting up while producing an acute, buzzing sound that hurt the ghosts' eardrums, as well as deafening some of the living people at the plaza, who didn't have a clue of where that loud noise came from. As they kissed, the light got progressively brighter, and the buzzing got louder, always in crescendo to reach a high-pitch, continuous, unbearable beep, until the two bodies totally fused in a blurry, undistinguishable great ball of white, blinding light.
"Cover your eyes!" the Metatron said, covering his own with his arm, grabbing a post with the other hand. "And hold on!"
The ball of light exploded like a mini-supernova that blew everybody present at the plaza away ―living or not― throwing them all to the ground. Everybody fell except the Metatron, who held onto that post while everything around him shook in ripples, totally distorted by the shockwave, like a large flag hit by gale winds.
When the wobbly dust settled, Diego, De Soto, and Sepúlveda started to get up, stunned. Nobody got seriously harmed, but the living screamed all around them in a frenzy, totally hysterical, believing a meteorite had fallen from the skies, causing an earthquake.
"And this is why this kind of interactions are so frowned upon in our realm…" the Metatron said, never out of words, letting go of the post to dust off his golden breastplate with his red cape. "Unfortunately, they cause too much disturbance in the Quantum fabric of the Matrix. They enjoyed it, thought. Greatly. It's like… Let's see, what would be the equivalent for you? Yes, I got it: like a million human orgasms released in one go."
"A million?" De Soto said, getting up, trying to do the math.
"Ignacio, don't even try to imagine it," Diego said, amused by his stupefied expression. "Wow. That was… something."
"Lucky bastards…" De Soto said, whistling with healthy envy. "Why was Azrael so reluctant to hook up with Death then, if he could have the mother of all "o's" with her?"
"Because their relationship was forbidden," Diego said. The Metatron nodded again.
"Exactly. But, strangely enough, they truly loved each other, because love has no rhyme and no reason, and as God is all about Love, these two got a free pass from the Boss. Everybody knew they couldn't go on like this for another eon; that would be too cruel. Even Azrael would have run out of patience and self-discipline eventually, and would have fallen from grace into disobedience. Actually, he was about to. And we cannot afford more fallen angels. Such thing gives us an awful reputation…"
"Where are they now?" Diego asked. The couple had disappeared, blown apart into cosmic dust.
"Resting, as you humans do after an all-night, exhausting session of love-making," the Metatron said quite casually, but the trio of bachelors sent him an odd look. "I mean, such exhausting physical activity drains you of… of energy, among other things…"
The odd looks of the three single men who had never enjoyed such kind of intense, love-making nights, intensified.
"Well, don't look at me like that… You should know what I mean, and if you don't, you missed out on something quite satisfactory…" The Metatron cleared his throat then, uncomfortable, self-conscious of his straightforward, tell-it-like-it-is, verbal incontinence. "They'll be back soon, don't you worry."
"How soon is "soon"? Because I really need to talk to Azrael," Diego insisted. "It's important."
"I don't know, but it doesn't matter, because time is…"
"Unsubstantial," De Soto interrupted, just in case he gave them another unsavoury example. "Yes, we know…"
"Well then, my work here is done. Behave yourselves, and you'll get up, eventually. By the way, all the elevators to heaven are in maintenance right now. You'll get one as soon as possible, Corporal. All the best," the Metatron said, slowly dissipating into nothingness, not waiting for a reply.
"That's it? Azrael had a major orgasmic experience, this talking-head buggers off, and we are left on our own again?" De Soto said, quite touchy. "And where is my elevator?"
"In maintenance, with all the others," Diego said, amused again by the alcalde's crankiness. "Dammit, I really need Azrael's help... I hope he returns soon."
"Maybe I could help you," someone said behind him. Diego turned around, hopeful, but he couldn't hide his disappointment when he saw the young man in the white suit. Whatever he could offer him, he didn't want his help.
"Ah… I don't think so. But thank you, anyway."
"I know what you need: to stop Victoria Escalante from committing suicide. You should hurry up, though. Time may not really exist, but the clock it's ticking…" the man said, looking at his wrist. "Tic-tac, Tic-tac…"
"What would you ask in return for help?" De Soto asked, also interested.
"A soul for a soul?"
"I think I'll pass," Diego said. That slimy demon gave him the creeps. "Azrael will help me."
"He's too busy," the man said bitterly. "The fool is in loooooove….. Sickening, that is. Revolting!"
"You didn't really believe Death would fall for you, did you?" Diego said.
"That treacherous woman, leading me on… Frigid, she is!"
"Who did you call "frigid"?" the Baron said, materializing behind Lucifer.
"You! Time-waster queen, icy cocktease…"
Death slapped the Devil into the next century… or she would have, if time wasn't as unsubstantial as her gender identity.
"Bitch!"
"¡Cabrón!"
Diego, De Soto, and Sepúlveda watched the ex-lovers fight with great interest. It was all so entertaining, like a fancy operetta.
"Yes, un cabrón, and proud of it!" Lucifer said, all cocky. "Ask the witches at their covens… All satisfied by this goat. All fucked and grateful they are, not like you, nun-wannabe!"
"Sod off back to hell, you motherfucker!" the Baron cried with his gloved hand up and ready to slap him again.
"Fine! Stay with that loser, who for so many millennia didn't have the balls to stand up for himself, as I did!"
"And what did you gain with that rebellious attitude of yours? A rotisserie? Fuck off already, will you?!"
"¡Que te jodan!"
"I've just been serviced, thanks. By the best!" the Baron said, laughing. "Go to hell!"
"Gladly!" Satan cried, disappearing.
Death adopted again the look of the cheerful, sweet young maid, no longer swearing, drinking, and smoking like a chimney as the Baron Samedi.
"I'm sorry you had to witness that, guys."
"No need to apologize. We love all this supernatural drama," De Soto said. "It's so… colourful!"
Right then, the Highway to Heaven appeared, creating a bright tunnel close to Sepúlveda.
"There you go! The first available lift is for you!" Death said, urging the corporal in.
"But you said you could get me back to life…"
"Did you sacrifice a black rooster for me?"
"No, but you said…"
"Ha!" she interrupted, with a finger on his lips. "That was before I promised to be on my best behaviour. No more resurrections! From now on, only Jesus will do that, and he's not around, so… There you go! Good-bye, my sweetheart!"
She roughly pushed Sepúlveda into the light tunnel, and just as Mendoza did before, he quickly disintegrated in tiny particles that ascended up, spiralling as the vortex closed itself behind him.
"Done! One less!" La Catrina said, satisfied, dusting off her hands after a job well done.
"How come he got a lift? Why him and not me?" De Soto said.
"Any man who manages to stupidly kill himself while trying to bang his head on a wall to help someone else, will always go to heaven," she said matter-of-factly, as if everybody should know that, or it happened every day.
Before Diego could ask her about Azrael, a cart arrived at the pueblo.
"Come on, Az, where the heck are you?" she said with her arms akimbo, looking up. "Diego needs you!"
ZZZ
Juan drove the open cart to Los Angeles, with Felipe sitting at his side in the driver's seat. As they approached the pueblo, the youngster looked around, wondering what he could do to help, but he couldn't think of anything useful. They were surrounded by four Royal Lancers and Sergeant Romero, who kept a close eye on the prisoners at the back, and also the drivers. Looking back, Felipe saw Don Alejandro sitting on one side, with his hands tied at the back, swaying to the sides as the cart lurched forward on the road. Not the most comfortable ride.
Don Alejandro looked at Felipe and smiled sadly, trying to reassure him while wondering what the brave young man would have done under similar circumstances to help Zorro, if he wasn't injured and out of commission.
His son lay in the middle of the cart, at his feet, and it was a miracle he was still alive and breathing. Don Alejandro wished he would die peacefully then, in his sleep, and never woke up to see his father hanging at the gallows with him. It was inevitable now: Diego would die accused to be Zorro, and he'd receive capital punishment as his accomplice. But it would all be worth it if at least Felipe would walk away free.
Diego, no wonder you didn't want to tell us about this. I can see now it was too dangerous.
He looked at Victoria, crying in a bundle by Diego, with her hands also tied up at the front. He wanted to blame her for the fiasco, because it was her fault Pérez found out about the secret entrance to the cave, but he couldn't. It wasn't really her fault. She was so out of her mind and unreliable he should not have left her out of his sight, going down to the cave on her own.
As if she was reading his mind, she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes drenched in tears.
"I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. This should not be happening," she said with a shaky, tearful voice. "I should have been more careful."
"None of this should be happening. And it's not your fault. Please, don't say that."
"Quiet!" Sergeant Romero cried then.
"Excuse me," Don Alejandro said, sitting up as straight as he could, indignant. "I will say whatever I need or want to say."
"Prisoners are not allowed to talk!" the sergeant said, annoyed when the old don questioned his authority.
"Says who? You? Look, you're going to kill me as soon as you can. I'm well past the time when I would give a damn about what you say or want!"
"This attitude won't help you, Don Alejandro," Victoria said.
"At this point in time, nothing will."
Don Alejandro stood up then, defiant, and a tad bit suicidal. Romero got his pistol and aimed at his chest.
"Sit down!"
"Go on, make me!"
Horrified, Victoria looked at Diego then, and whispered:
"Diego, do something! Take that pistol off his hand!"
Right then, they heard a loud, deafening, buzzing noise, coming from the nearby pueblo. That noise spooked all the horses, that stopped and reared on the spot, including the one carrying Sepúlveda's corpse, that was tied to the back of the cart. That horse threw his cargo to the ground, pulled from the rope until it broke, and ran away. Juan and the soldiers tried to control their horses, but they barely managed.
"What the hell is that?" Romero cried, dropping the gun to hold the reins with both hands.
All of a sudden, an invisible force hit them all. Horses and riders fell to the ground, as well as Juan, Felipe and Don Alejandro, blown off the cart. Victoria held on low, covering Diego's inert body with hers, trying to protect him from whatever was going on while she cried her head off in fear, with everything around her shaking in odd waves.
Then, everything calmed down again. Victoria was the first one to recover from the shockwave. When Don Alejandro saw her standing in the cart, he cried from the ground.
"Go! Go now, run!"
And so she did, jumping off the cart.
ZZZZZ