Chapter Three
On Death
Several months passed by, and odd encounters with Angel decreased once again to normal levels. She saw him occasionally if she looked out the window at just the right moment on the nights she waited for William to come home, when he walked William to their building before heading home himself. Sometimes Calder was with them, depending on whose building had been closer that night, and sometimes Angel was alone. On the times he was alone, Judith noticed that he tended to disappear into the darkness much more quickly.
She and Angel exchanged few words, but Judith still sometimes pondered the conversations they had recently had. Her curiosity of him drove her to wish that circumstances would bring about another opportunity for her to question him, until the thought occurred to her one morning to ask William what he knew. Spending so much time with him, and having listened to countless stories when he was a child (something Judith very secretly had always been envious of), she was surprised that she hadn't thought to ask him sooner.
"Will?" Judith started to say as she set two glasses of orange juice on the table one morning and sat down. William looked up from the bit of last-minute homework he was trying to finish. Judith continued, "Does Angel talk to you about his past much?"
William didn't answer right away, startled at the unexpected question. "Er," he said finally, "sometimes. Why?"
"I was just wondering," Judith replied.
William returned to his homework.
"Do you know where he's from?"
"Here, I think," William replied, entering something in on the holographically projected screen of his Palm beside him. "Ireland, I mean. But he's lived all over, so…"
"Has he?"
"Well yeah." He glanced up and reached for his orange juice. "Especially during his bad vampire days. He lived nearly everywhere in Europe, and even some of northern Africa during that time." William swallowed some orange juice and set his glass down. "Then I think he went to Asia for a bit and North America for a long time. I think he was in South America for a while after that." William shrugged and bent back over his homework. "Like I said, he's lived all over."
"Mm," Judith pondered. "I suppose that would make sense."
"Yeah, living in one place would get boring after a while. Plus, he had to run from vampire hunters for a while, so that would've kept him moving."
"Did you ever ask him what life was life back then?"
William shrugged again, typing distractedly, his fingers flying through the interactive projection. "Only if I needed help with homework. You're the one who likes history, Mum. You know, you should go back and get the rest of that Master's degree. I bet Angel could help you get it in no time."
Judith smiled. "Maybe someday," she said. The thought of finishing had always been at the back of her mind. "Maybe when you've moved out," she said.
"Don't hold your life up for me," he said, turning off his Palm and standing up, slipping the device into his back pocket. "See you later," he said, hugging her quickly with one arm and dashing out the door for school.
Judith smiled at his empty chair and contemplated the leftover toast crusts and half-drunk juice. "It's too late for that, darling," she said into the silence.
Judith would not have called if it weren't an emergency. As it was, she hesitated before the blank video screen, teetering on edge of the invisible, blurry boundary of her relationship with Angel. If it weren't so late, and if her destination weren't too far to walk, especially to avoid Merlin Park Woods at this time of night, the thought wouldn't have even occurred to her. But she knew the dangers now, especially since William had come home a few nights ago with a deep gash in his left arm. And besides that, there wasn't much time, and public transit ran less frequently so late at night.
She pulled in her breath and selected Angel's number from her contacts list; she realized now, for the first time ever. He appeared on the screen moments later, looking quite awake—if a bit curious and concerned—as she had hoped to find him, the wooden bookshelves and paper books in the background of his flat glowing richly in the quiet light of a reading lamp. His condition did have the one advantage that she wasn't being entirely rude calling at a few minutes past one in the morning.
"Angel," she said, giving the courteous opening the she knew was going to be waved away, but couldn't bring herself to leave out, "I am so sorry to disturb you."
"You're not," Angel predictably replied. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said. "Well, yes, of course there is something, but nothing to do with William; he's fine." She was only guessing that that's what he was thinking, and she seemed to be right as his expression relaxed slightly. "I—I need to ask a rather large favor of you. I wouldn't, except that it is a bit of an emergency." She took a quick breath to sooth the tension that clenched her body together and continued before Angel could make any response.
"I need to get to St. Anthony's right away. I've just had a call. My great-aunt who is living there had a rather severe heart attack," she swallowed to keep her emotion steady. "I'm the only family in town, and they don't think she has much longer." Judith silently congratulated herself that her voice had not broken. She was quite fond of her great-aunt, and had always been closer to her than most other relatives: such a shock so late at night had hit her hard. "Would you be willing to take me there?"
"Where's William?" Angel asked.
"At his father's for the night, across town."
Angel hesitated. "Wouldn't he want to know?"
Momentarily taken aback, it took her a second to answer. "I would rather not put him through the stress. He's not close with her, and I think he would rather hear it in the morning than now. Angel, please, just let me know if you will come. I can call a taxi, but I would rather have your company than a stranger's, or," she couldn't quite believe she was about to admit this, "or even William's. He's can't offer me the kind of…stoic security I need right now." Judith and Angel stared at each other for a long moment. And then he nodded.
"I'll be there in a few minutes."
Judith breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Thank you," she smiled, and they hung up.
Angel indeed arrived in just a few minutes, as promised. Judith was waiting for him just inside the door of her building and stepped out into the chilly autumn air as he pulled up in his ostentatiously sporty vehicle. She hurried into the passenger's seat.
"Thank you, Angel, you can't imagine how much I appreciate this."
"No problem," Angel said, punching at a few buttons on the dashboard. "It's not like I was sleeping or anything." He offered the faintest of smiles to make up for his distracted and not altogether convincing tone. "Dang it!" He'd accidentally pressed the power button and engine died.
"Don't you know how to drive a manual?" Judith asked, surprised, eyeing the gear shift between them. Looking at it, she realized that it wasn't just any gear shift-it was a real gear shift. A hybridized version of the original manual shifts were commonly available in sport models, but-she looked and saw the clutch beside the brake-a truly manual transmission was much rarer.
"Of course!" Angel said, starting the car again. "I paid an arm and a leg for this thing, but sometimes it tries to switch back over on me. These buttons make no sense. I was just trying to turn the heat on..." He pressed a few more buttons. "Damn," he muttered under his breath as the GPS flashed on the screen and the car's computer asked in a sweet female voice where he would like to go. Muttering as he pressed more random buttons, he said something about "stupid newfangled contraptions" and seeing if Joe would be able to disconnect the automatic option completely.
"I'm sorry, I didn't understand you," the computer said cheerfully, as if its happiest life goal were to serve the mid-life-crisis-stricken male that bought it. "Please repeat your destin—"
"—I know how to get there!" Angel almost shouted in his frustration.
"Here," Judith said, leaning over and bringing up the Home screen for him.
"Thanks," Angel said, and, back in familiar territory, he found the manual override, pressed in the clutch with a little more force than necessary, and accelerated down the empty street. He told her to fix the heat however she wanted, but it was only a few-minute ride, so she decided not to bother.
Judith sat back in her seat, her attention drifting out the window to her left. The anxiety and fear had subsided slightly at the distraction, but it was now returning as the quiet let all manner of terrible thoughts return to her. In an effort to keep them at bay a little longer, Judith spoke.
"Why do you have a car? I don't think I know of anyone else in the city that has one. It's not like we really need them."
"I bought it so I could take the boys and their weapons out to practice in open spaces without a lot of questions asked," Angel replied.
Judith pursed her lips. She did not like the idea of Angel buying a car for such a minor purpose. But then, he'd chosen such an indulgent model that he probably hadn't needed much of reason.
"I see," she said simply. The silence took over again, so she continued, "Well, I suppose I'm grateful for that tonight. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important…"
Angel shook his head. "Just reading."
"What were you reading?" she asked. Judith caught him glancing at her out of the corner of her eye before he responded.
"An old demonology text I just got."
"How old?" she asked.
Angel thought a minute. "Mid-18th century, I think."
Even through her anxiety-bordering-on-terror, she marveled at the thought that a paper book had survived for 400 years outside of a museum. In fact … "So it's about as old as you, then?" she asked.
Angel nodded. "Just about."
Glancing at him, Judith said with a suppressed grin, "I'm sure you've aged much better than it has."
The smallest of smiles, which disappeared when she blinked, flickered over his mouth. "Definitely," he replied.
She didn't know what made her ask, or even why the thought came to her, but her voice spoke before she could stop it, "Why is that?"
Angel glanced at her in question.
"I mean, what—I'm sorry, but this is the only word I can think of right now—but what 'preserves' you? Bodies are supposed to decay after death. It is magic?"
Angel stared at the road, pointedly not meeting her eyes even though he was supposed to be watching where they were going anyway. "It's blood."
Judith stared at him, waiting for more.
"Blood is life," he said, then added a bit more quietly, "that's why the undead have to drink it."
"Oh," she said in a small voice, and she was silent the remaining minute or so until they pulled into St. Anthony's parking lot. Angel stopped rather carelessly in the empty lot near the door and turned the engine off.
"Take your time," Angel said as she unbuckled. "I'll wait here for you."
"Oh," Judith faltered. She had expected, and rather wanted, him to come in with her. She had been counting on his steady energy to calm and reassure her; to remind her as she sat enclosed in the tiny flower-filled room in the all-consuming moment of watching a loved one die that there were still other things in the world. She'd been through it enough already to know that she needed it. She took a breath; she'd already asked this much of him—what was a little more?
"Angel do you think—would you mind coming in? Please?" Angel glanced toward the door to the retirement home, and she wished she hadn't asked as his expression said that he didn't want to. She considered recanting the request, but he gave a quick nod and silently slid out of the car.
"Thank you," she said as she, too, stepped out of the car, closed the door, and hurried for the building, hoping that even an ounce of the gratitude she felt would be transferred through her words. Angel was silent as she announced herself at the desk and rushed down the familiar hallways. He felt like a shadow, somewhat invisible in the dimmed light of the night hours, and utterly quiet.
Her great-aunt looked like she might have been asleep when they reached her room. Angel stopped at the door; the fact that he had not been invited into this small residence only barely registered in her mind. The nurse glanced up as she entered and smiled what was supposed to be a consoling smile, though it came out a little condescending through the nurse's fatigue.
"She's unconscious," the nurse said. "She doesn't have much time left." The nurse slipped into a stream of explanation of what had happened in the last hour, detailing facts that she already knew about what happens when a person goes into cardiac arrest, how severe her great-aunt's attack had been, and what the doctors had done for her. Judith stopped listening as she sat on the edge of her great-aunt's bed and took the woman's cool fingers into her own and watched the steady rise and fall of tiny breaths in her frail body. She almost didn't notice Angel address the nurse by name and call her out of the room; they spoke in quiet voices near the door while Judith gently brushed a wisp of white hair on the woman's face away.
"Hello, Aunt Jenny," she whispered, quite aware that she would not be able to hear her—consciously, anyway. "I'm here," she said gently, then stopped. She supposed that any words for unconscious loved ones were probably not really for the dying at all, but for the person doing the talking. What did she want to say? Is there anything she would regret not saying later?
"Your flowers are lovely," Judith babbled, hardly glancing at the room. "You always did have a knack for making things grow. Thank you for trying to teach me how to grow vegetables. I know I failed miserably, but I enjoyed the time we spent together. I only wish now that we'd had more time to do things like that."
She could almost hear Aunt Jenny say with a gentle laugh, "it's better to wish it now than not at all, Little Judy." Judith smiled slightly and cast about for something else to say.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there, babbling and murmuring for her own benefit. Though she never looked back at him, Judith knew that Angel stood there at the door, and his presence did help, no matter how uncomfortable the feeling was that she had asked too much of him. They waited, Judith whispering softly and staying away from the topics that might cause her voice to crack, as it was so close to doing anyway, and Angel standing a silent sentry against utter loneliness. Occasionally a doctor or nurse would come by, wanting to check on Aunt Jenny or administer some medication or another. Judith let Angel turn them away, knowing as well as he and Aunt Jenny did that medications would only prolong the unconsciousness. She wasn't sure how Angel knew, but Aunt Jenny had been saying in recent weeks that she was ready to be with Uncle George again, and autumn was a highly significant time for a gardener to choose to leave earth.
The tiny clock nestled amongst vases of flowers on the bedside table chimed three in the morning. With a startling squeeze of the hand, Aunt Jenny's eyes opened the tiniest sliver. With great effort, she whispered, "Thank you for all the flowers," sighed, and Judith thought she saw the flowers in the room stir as her spirit left them. Judith's hand covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Angel appeared at the edge of her blurred vision. Her sobs came more painfully, and she felt a light, tentative hand on her shoulder. The touch helped calm her, as if the pain spilled into him through the contact, though she let the tears fall several minutes longer. Angel offered no words of comfort, but she had been right: his steady presence was enough. When she was ready to be done, she glanced up and offered a smile of embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," she said thickly through a half-stopped-half-runny nose.
Pulling a tissue out of a nearby box and handing it to her, Angel replied, "No need. You should always grieve the people you lose."
"I suppose you would know," she said, blowing her nose and dabbing at her eyes. "You must have seen much death in your time."
"Yes," Angel said. "I have." He handed her another tissue. "Aside from the ones I caused," he added.
"Yes, that's what I meant," she replied, the oddness that the qualification was necessary a bit beyond her at the moment. She continued, "I have seen a lot of death, too. My father, when I was 26, and my mother-in-law, only about a year before the divorce. We were quite close. And…" Judith tried to swallow the sharp rock in her throat away. "My best friend. During college. It always takes you by surprise; even the ones you expect." She glanced up at Angel's stoic face. "Do you know what I mean?"
Angel nodded.
Judith continued, "And the only comfort for those of us left behind is that they're in a better place, and that we'll see them again someday." Thoughts of the reunion Aunt Jenny and Uncle George must be having right now brought bittersweet tears to her eyes again and she bit the inside of her lip against them. "Right?" she asked, looking for confirmation from someone who must have so much more experience in such matters, with hundreds of years' worth of relationships behind him.
"It's a human comfort," Angel said, and Judith looked up again. "It's one only mortals can enjoy." Angel sat down in the chair near the bed, his hand sliding gently off her shoulder.
"What do you mean?" Judith asked. Though Angel was immortal, he certainly wasn't invincible. He, too, would die, someday.
Angel caught her eyes and held them for a moment before he answered. "My soul is damned, Judith. No matter how much good I do, inside, I'm still a demon, and there's only one place demons go. I can guarantee that when I die, I'm not following anyone I ever loved here."
Judith sat in stunned silence for several moments, taking in the gravity and, she now realized, tragedy of his situation. "How do you heal from such an…eternal divide?"
Angel broke the eye contact and was silent for several moments, on the verge of not answering. "You promise not make the same mistake again," he finally said.
"Have you…?"
Angel stared into his clasped hands and didn't answer. In fact, she almost thought he might not have heard; that her whisper was quieter than she thought. But then she remembered his heightened senses and realized that it was simply a question he did not want to answer, and if he didn't want to answer, then she didn't want to know. In a desperate attempt to escape the exponentially-increasing tension, she spoke again, more loudly this time so that they could both pretend he simply hadn't heard; or that she hadn't asked at all.
"Does it scare you? The thought of Hell?"
Angel gave a slight shrug. For a minute, she thought that he wouldn't answer again, but then he said, "Enough to keep me here, I guess." Angel stared at his interlaced fingers. "It's not as bad as it's made out to be, though. The brimstone is a lie."
Judith's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You've been there?"
Angel nodded. "My ex-girlfriend killed me once."
"I can see why she's your ex, then," Judith said with a slight smile, unable to think of a more appropriate response—if there was one at all.
Angel shrugged again. "No, I deserved it. That's not why we broke up; ultimately, anyway."
"What did you do?"
"I killed her friends, tortured the closest thing she had to a father figure—physically and psychologically—and I tried to destroy the world." Angel thought for a second. "Pretty much in that order."
Judith's jaw dropped of its own accord, and the only response she could think of to such a frank and shocking answer was, "Well why on earth did you break up if not for that?"
"I wasn't right for her," Angel replied. Then, thinking, added, "Or she wasn't right for me. Not in the long run, anyway."
Judith furrowed her brow in concentration, trying to imagine a relationship in which torture and mass murder were not good enough reasons to stay apart, but logical, adult foresight was. Perhaps if she knew the whole story it would make more sense, but she felt that this was not the time to delve any deeper. She settled for asking how he had managed to escape a place of eternal torment, to which his answer was equally confusing and quite brief. Something about a long story, the Powers That Be, and an apocalypse. Judith let the long stories slide by and looked back down at her Aunt Jenny, whose cooling hands she was still holding.
"I suppose we should call the doctor," Judith said.
"Are you ready for that?" Angel asked.
Judith nodded, and without another word, Angel rose to summon someone.