"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 11

"Pizza and Beer"

Gabriel sat at the counter, sipping his coffee.

He had been sent to this place with a mission that he had no idea how to complete; for once in his life, he was totally at a loss.

"You're becoming a regular around here," the waitress observed, coming over with her coffee pot to offer him a refill. She didn't sound particularly pleased about it.

Perhaps this human would know what to do. Gabriel put his elbows on the counter and steepled his fingers in front of his face. "Maybe you could help me out with something… Madge. See, I had a fight with my buddy the other day." He gave a self-deprecating little smile. "We were fighting over a woman… you know how it is."

"Can't say I do," she told him in an unfriendly voice.

"But she's dead now… the woman," Gabriel continued, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip. "And I don't know how to make things right with my buddy."

The waitress frowned, shrugged. "Just go apologize."

"But he started it!" Gabriel said hotly, realizing even as he spoke how childish it sounded.

The waitress shrugged again. "So wait until he finds you and apologizes."

"Aaaah, he'll never be able to find me," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "So that's no good. And the thing is… the woman won't talk to me until I make up with my buddy."

The waitress frowned. "I thought you said she's dead."

"Uh… yeah," Gabriel said, mentally kicking himself. "Yeah I did – gosh, you caught me!" He gave a nervous little laugh.

A new voice piped up from the end of the counter. "Take a pizza and some beer over to his place and tell him that good pals like you two have to stick together – especially after what happened to the girl," an old trucker advised.

"Pizza," Gabriel repeated, nodding. "And beer. Got it."

"Sounds like a plan," the waitress agreed, her whole attitude managing to convey the idea that she was in favor of anything that got him out of her diner more quickly.

"And where can I get pizza and beer around these parts, Madge?" Gabriel asked.

"Pizza place closed two months ago," she informed him.

"There's a Pizza Hut next town over," the man at the end of the counter offered.

"North of here," the waitress added.

Gabriel leaned forward on his stool. "Don't suppose you could be a tad more specific?"

Grudgingly, she gave him directions.

"Much obliged," he said, rising and tossing a five dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change."

When Greg finally hung up the cell phone, two hours had passed and he we weary and overwhelmed.

Even though everything made sense now, he still wasn't sure what he believed. If Joseph was right, everything Greg had believed for so long was patently untrue; God did indeed exist, the Bible was all true, and angels and demons haunted this world when they weren't fighting unimaginable Wars over philosophical differences.

He drank down the rest of his second Pepsi and headed into the bathroom – all of that soda was finally catching up with him.

When he came back out, someone was knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" he asked, peering through the peephole. He couldn't see anything outside – the peephole appeared to be blocked by something – so he opened the door.

He smelled pizza… and he sneezed.

"Hi!" Gabriel said brightly, holding up a box from Pizza Hut. "I brought pizza."

Greg's heart climbed somewhere up into his throat. If the things Joseph had told him were true, this weird person wasn't even a person, really. He was some other creature entirely, a member of a species that was very, very dangerous.

And he in particular was especially dangerous.

"Uh…" Greg said, backing into the motel room. "That's… uh… that's great, I guess."

"Don't bother to thank me," Gabriel said offhandedly, coming inside and putting the pizza down on a little table. He closed the door behind him and held up a brown paper sack. "I got beer too."

"Yeah, terrific," Greg said, still backing away. "Great."

Gabriel frowned, cocking his head at Greg. "Are you all right, Gregory?"

"Sure, yeah, never been better!" Greg sneezed several times. He grabbed at a box of Kleenex on the nightstand, snagged a handful, and wiped his dripping nose.

"You're acting very strange," Gabriel continued, his frown deepening.

Greg held up both hands as though to fend the other man off, still backing away. "Hey, take it easy there, Gabe… Gabriel." The back of his legs collided with the edge of the bed, and he sat down hard. Then he sneezed.

"Yeah, OK, Gregory," Gabriel agreed, his tone suggesting that he was pretty sure that Greg had lost his marbles. "I'll take it easy."

"Yeah, don't get all upset or anything," Greg said, oblivious to the fact that Gabriel was obviously doubting his sanity.

The angel sat down in one of the two chairs near the table. "I'll try to stay calm," he agreed with a completely straight face. He reached over and produced a bottle from the brown paper sack. "Want a beer?"

It didn't seem prudent to refuse, Greg decided. "Uh, yeah. Sure. That's great."

Gabriel slowly leaned forward in his seat and extended the beer in Greg's direction, being careful not to make any sudden moves.

Greg swallowed hard and leaned forward just as slowly, reaching out cautiously with one hand. When he felt his fingers close around the cool smooth glass, he snatched the bottle away as quickly as he could.

"Are you having some kind of breakdown, Gregory?" Gabriel asked, concerned.

"Uh… no… I don't think so," Greg said, twisting the top off the beer bottle and drinking deeply.

Gabriel put his elbows on the arms of the chair and folded his hands, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He sat quietly, tapping his lower lip thoughtfully as he watched Greg.

This silent scrutiny finally became too much for the human. "You have the same DNA as those feathers I found in Katie's spare room," Greg blurted out, unnerved. "How can that be?"

"How do you think that could be, Gregory?" Gabriel asked tranquilly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've been hearing a lot of crazy things today… there's a couple of MEs who're saying… well, a lot of bizarre stuff."

"What's that?" Gabriel asked curiously.

"What's what?" Greg asked, still watching the angel warily.

"An ME?"

"Medical Examiner." Gabriel still looked puzzled, and so Greg elaborated. "A doctor who does autopsies… you know, to figure out how someone died."

"Oh, yeah," Gabriel said, nodding. "I've heard of those."

"One of them said you have DNA like nothing else on Earth. Another one told me about his friend the detective – poor guy spent his last days locked up in a monastery, raving about… about…"

"About what?"

Greg looked down at the beer bottle in his hand. "About the Archangel Gabriel."

"Thomas Daggett," Gabriel said quietly, and Greg's head jerked up. "Yeah… those were pretty bad times for everyone involved." He reached into the brown paper bag and got himself a beer. "You want some pizza?" he asked as he pulled at the bottle cap, frowning.

Greg sneezed several times and wiped his nose. "I dunno…"

Gabriel gave him an exasperated look. "If I were going to hurt you, Gregory, I would have done it in that parking lot the other day. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Greg said, his cheeks flaming at the memory. "Listen, I'm sorry about that."

"Aaaah, don't worry about it – it's history, right?"

"Yeah, but I clocked you really good," Greg said miserably, suddenly wondering if he'd earned himself a one-way ticket straight to Hell for that little stunt. He had never dreamed that he'd be worried about something like that, but then again he'd never dreamed he'd end up socking God's Messenger in the jaw, either. "Sorry."

"No big deal," Gabriel said, waving a hand dismissively.

"That was a pretty stupid thing to do. From what I've been hearing, you could've wiped the floor with me!"

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "But I knew you weren't thinking straight."

"You're right, I wasn't… and I'm still not. This has been a really bad week for me, you know?"

"Sure," Gabriel agreed absently, still struggling with his bottle cap.

Greg gathered his courage. "Here," he said, leaning forward. "Let me see." He took the beer bottle from Gabriel and easily twisted the top off. "There you go," he said, handing it back. The angel peered at it, frowning. "The cap twists off," Greg explained, making a twisting motion. "You know."

"Thank you, Gregory."

"No biggie."

Gabriel opened the pizza box and helped himself to a slice. "It smells really good, doesn't it? Are you sure you don't want some?"

Greg hadn't eaten all day, and his stomach was growling painfully at the tantalizing pizza aroma.

"Sure," he agreed, hunger winning out over terror. He moved to sit in the chair across from Gabriel, reached for a slice of his own, and sneezed explosively. He only just managed to avert his head so that he didn't sneeze all over the pizza.

"Oh, stop that," Gabriel said impatiently, and waved a hand in front of Greg's face. Immediately, Greg felt his sinuses clear. His nose stopped streaming and his itchy eyes stopped watering.

He brought a hand to his face. "You… just…"

"Cured your bird allergy, yeah," Gabriel agreed with a shrug. "No big deal."

"It is to me! Why didn't you do that a long time ago?"

"Ahhhh… you know," Gabriel said with a vague gesture. He seemed embarrassed, and suddenly Greg understood.

"Yeah, I think I get it," he agreed with a rueful smile. "You liked watching me suffer… I bet you thought it was funny!"

The angel shrugged again. "A little," he admitted. Greg gave him a look. "Yeah, all right – a lot."

Greg shook his head. "Just when I thought I've seen it all…" He sighed. "Listen, Gabe… Gabriel – and should I call you Gabriel, or is there some kind of title I'm supposed to use… 'Your Angelness' or something like that?" Gabriel gave a little laugh at this suggestion as Greg continued thoughtfully. "But I guess I've been calling you all kinds of stuff since I met you, and you haven't smited me for it yet."

"Smote," Gabriel corrected. "Not 'smited'."

"Oh – right. My bad." He suddenly realized that he had completely lost his train of thought, and he took a bite of pizza. "This is really good," he said, chewing. "Thanks for bringing it, Sport."

The nickname had fallen out of Greg's mouth before he could stop himself, but either Gabriel hadn't heard it or he didn't care. "Yeah, I had to go over to some little town about fifty miles north of here to get it."

"You drove?" Greg asked through a mouthful of pizza; he was surprised it was still hot after such a long trip.

"Nahhh… I flew."

Greg choked.

"You OK?" Gabriel asked as Greg coughed and sputtered. "You're not supposed to die choking on pizza."

"Good to know," Greg gasped, taking a drink of beer to wash down the rest of the pizza. He was quiet for a moment. "I really miss Katie, you know?" he said suddenly. "I feel like it's my fault. If I hadn't broken her heart like that… I mean, who has a stroke when they're 42 years old?"

"It wasn't your fault… Katherine didn't suffer, and she's in a better place now… in Heaven."

Greg sighed. "I'm not sure I believe in that stuff, Gabe."

The angel shrugged. "Doesn't matter if you believe or not, Gregory. It's still real."

He was silent for a moment. "So, Katie went to Heaven – " he began.

"I took her there," Gabriel corrected. "I'm the Angel of Death… that's what I do."

Greg only nodded at this. At this point, he was beyond being stunned by any pronouncement the angel might make. "OK, so you took Katie to Heaven, and she's up there right now."

"Yeah."

"And pretty soon you're going to leave here and go up there and be with her?"

The angel nodded briefly. "I'll see her, yeah."

Greg sighed. "It's kind of ironic, you know?" He looked at the floor, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. "See, I always thought you might take her away from me. But I never guessed it would be like this."

Gabriel took a breath, hesitated. "Listen, Gregory… Katherine was born with this… this thing. You know. In her brain," he said, tapping the side of his own head. "A weak blood vessel. It was gonna pop eventually, no matter what… and when it did, it would have left her – "

"A vegetable," Greg finished.

"No," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "Worse. Aware… but… trapped. Trapped inside a useless skinsuit. Is that what you would have wanted for Katherine, Gregory… for the rest of her life?"

Greg was horrified. "Of course not!"

"Would that have been better than Paradise?"

"No!"

"Well… there you go," Gabriel said with a shrug. He leaned back in his seat and took a sip of beer. "That's what was supposed to happen… but I asked The Boss to let me bring her home instead. She asked me once to promise I wouldn't let her suffer. And I knew what her future was supposed to be… and… I couldn't make that promise." He frowned and put a hand to his chest. "It hurt… here. You know?" He looked puzzled, as though this wasn't something he had ever experienced before.

"Yeah, Gabe – I know." He smiled. "It's part of being human."

"Huh."

Greg leaned forward in his seat. "Listen… what would you have done if… He… if The Boss had said no?"

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, thinking. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I've never disobeyed a direct order. But Katherine – "

Greg sipped his beer and gave Gabriel a knowing look. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"She's very important to me," Gabriel said slowly. "But no, Gregory. I'm not in love with her." He took a sip of beer. "You know… now I understand why so many of my kind have become fascinated with your women… even when it led to their own destruction."

"Yeah, they're pretty damn fascinating," Greg agreed, finishing his beer and reaching for another slice of pizza. "So what about… uh… your people. Don't you have your own women to lead you down the path of self-destruction?"

"No."

"Really?" Greg was surprised. "So where do baby angels come from?" he asked, reaching for another beer.

Gabriel looked amused. "There's no such thing. If more angels are needed, The Boss creates them."

Greg blinked. "Oh."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Listen… this is a lot for me to deal with, you know?" Greg finally said, shaking his head. "This morning, I didn't even believe you existed!"

Gabriel frowned. "But you saw me almost every day for a week!"

"That's not what I meant, Sport. I didn't believe that angels existed." He took a bite of pizza. "Nothing personal – you know."

"Right," Gabriel agreed.

"So you came here to tell me all this stuff, right?" Greg asked, sipping his beer. "About Katherine being in Heaven, and the thing in her brain."

"Yeah… kind of." Gabriel finished his beer and got another one out of the bag.

"You want me to – " Greg began, gesturing at the bottle in Gabriel's hand.

"Aaaah, let me try," the angel said, and twisted the cap off with a little grunt.

"Good for you, Gabe!" Greg cheered, clinking his beer bottle against Gabriel's.

"I came here because Katherine asked me to," the angel continued, taking a sip of beer. "She's worried about you, Gregory."

Greg frowned. "Why?" Even as he asked, he realized how absurd it sounded, his poor dead girlfriend worrying about him.

"Because she knows you don't believe… and she thinks you may be doing unethical things. You defended a child rapist and murderer."

Greg felt the blood drain from his face. "Altman… he really was guilty, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. You kept asking me how I knew… well," he shrugged. "Now you know."

"Now I know," Greg agreed miserably.

"Katherine doesn't want to see you go to Hell," Gabriel continued softly. "She's in Paradise. You wanna come too? You better start playing your cards right."

"She hates me," Greg reminded Gabriel. "Why would she care if I go to Hell?"

"Yeah, she was devastated… but she never stopped loving you," Gabriel said frankly. "And she's angry at you, but eternal damnation isn't something she'd wish on anyone."

Greg gave a short laugh. "And why would you care if I go to Hell, Gabe? I don't think you're exactly my Number One Fan!"

"I'm not," he agreed with that same frankness. "But Katherine said she wouldn't talk to me anymore… not unless I came down here and tried to get you to turn your life around before it's too late."

"She really said that?" Greg asked, astonished.

"Yeah, she did." Gabriel finished off his beer and stood. "So consider this your wake-up call!"

Greg rose and followed him to the door. "I will… I really I have a lot of thinking to do tonight!"

The angel gave a slight smile, his hand on the doorknob. "I bet."

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"You will?" Gabriel frowned.

"At Katie's funeral."

"Why would I go to her funeral, Gregory?" Gabriel asked, obviously puzzled. "I see her all the time."

Greg thought about it. "Yeah, I guess I see your point."

"I'm gonna take off now," Gabriel said, opening the door. "You gonna be OK?"

"Sure, Gabe. I'll be fine."

"OK… I guess I'll see you around."

"You know…" Greg hesitated, groped for the words. "Detroit's gonna get shellacked by the Cardinals week after next."

Gabriel frowned. "Never happen," he disagreed immediately.

"Oh, they're gonna get pounded, Gabe! You wait!"

"Aaaah, the Cardinals stink!" he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Yeah? Well, a bunch of us hang out at Pete's Tavern whenever there's a game… not that I'd expect to see you there. You might get all embarrassed when the Cardinals blow Detroit off the field!"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "What time?"

Greg shrugged. "Kickoff's at one, Sport. The festivities usually start before that, though."

Gabriel nodded. "Right."

He stepped outside, kissed a finger and waved it at Greg in blessing. A white glow surrounded the angel, becoming blinding, and he exploded into a flock of iridescent white doves flying upwards toward Heaven.

"Wow," Greg murmured. He went back inside, shut the door, and – for the first time in almost thirty years – he knelt down to pray.