Charlie's footsteps came to a hesitant stop at the threshold of Angel's room in the clinic. Despite her fervent desire to embrace the belief that the Spider had finally regained consciousness, the sight before her shattered that hope into a thousand pieces. There he was, seemingly awake, propped up in the bed, yet his vacant gaze was fixed upon the wall as if it harbored a sight only visible to him. The contrast was stark – the expectation of coherence met with the grim reality of detachment.
Only that very morning, when she had visited alongside Cherri, a flicker of awareness had been present in him. He had spoken, engaged with the surroundings. The shift from then to now was disconcerting, like a curtain being drawn over a fragile spark of light. Questions swirled in Charlie's mind – was this an unwelcome consequence of the medications he was administered, or a manifestation of the complex withdrawal process he was navigating?
As much as she yearned for clarity, the answers eluded her grasp. The room seemed to hold its breath, charged with uncertainty, as if even the walls were uncertain of how to interpret this development. Charlie's concern was etched across her face, a mirror to her inner turmoil. She wished for a roadmap through this labyrinthine situation, a guide to deciphering the enigma of Angel's condition.
With a heavy sigh, she crossed the threshold and took a tentative step toward the bed. Her heart held a mixture of apprehension and determination. There was no choice but to confront this reality head-on, to seek understanding even in the face of the inexplicable. As Charlie drew nearer, her gaze locked onto Angel's vacant eyes, a silent plea passing between them – a plea for connection, for answers, and for a glimmer of the person who existed behind that bewildered stare.
Unsure of the depth of Angel's awareness and the thoughts that might be swirling within his troubled mind, Charlie remained cautious as she observed him from a respectful distance. There was an unspoken connection between them, a connection that went beyond words and actions, and she had a hunch that he was more attuned to her presence than he appeared.
As she contemplated her next steps, a myriad of possibilities and questions flitted through her mind. Was he waiting for her to make a move, to bridge the gap between them with words or gestures? Or was he harboring feelings of resentment or confusion that hindered him from engaging with her?
The memory of his rejection of medical assistance echoed in her thoughts. She recalled the conversation with Husk, which had granted her insight into Angel's perspective. Yet, the gravity of his current condition made it clear that personal choices were now overshadowed by the urgency of the situation. Medical episodes had a way of demanding attention, even from those who wished to evade it.
With a determined exhale, Charlie left the room, her decision solidifying. Navigating the complex web of emotions and uncertainties, she resolved to seek out Dr. Abaddon, the onsite doctor. The situation called for professional guidance, a trained eye to decipher the intricacies of Angel's condition.
Charlie's knuckles had barely grazed the door when it swung open, revealing the figure of Dr. Abaddon. The surprise in his voice was unmistakable, a testament to the unexpected nature of her visit.
"Oh Charlotte," Dr. Abaddon exclaimed, his tone a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "You've returned rather early."
"Can I come in?" Charlie inquired, standing by the door to Abaddon's office.
"Of course," Abaddon agreed, gesturing to one of the seats facing his desk. "Please have a seat." Charlie entered and settled into one of the offered chairs. Her gaze wandered around the room as she collected her thoughts. Behind the locust demon's desk, a bookcase was seamlessly integrated into the wall, displaying a collection of books discussing medicine and healing practices throughout history. A window on one wall offered a view of the Hellish Mountain range known as the Chernobog Heights, while an antique drawing of the Vitruvian Man adorned the opposite wall. The two images of the man, slightly overlaid, gave it an almost demonic appearance, intriguingly capturing Charlie's attention.
Among the artworks, there was a painted depiction of the locust demon standing proudly beside her father. King Luci, wearing his signature proud grin, held Charlie's infant form in the crook of his arm. The absence of any other family pictures or medical certificates was noticeable in the room's decor.
"What can I do for you, my dear?" Abaddon inquired, once he had settled himself enough to give her his full attention.
"I was wondering about Angel," Charlie said. "How long do you feel he needs to stay at the clinic?"
"Ah," Abaddon nodded. "Indeed, his progress necessitates close monitoring by a medical professional. This clinic provides the optimal environment for him to receive top-notch care."
"Is it a possibility for him to return to the cabin?" Charlie inquired. "You also mentioned the potential for longer-term symptoms like depression and restlessness. While I appreciate the need for proper care, I can't shake the feeling that keeping him here indefinitely might do more harm than good."
"What leads you to believe this?" Abaddon inquired, curious to hear Charlie's perspective.
"I can't say for certain," Charlie began. "But I recently had a conversation with a person at my hotel. This person has lived through the same era that Angel was when he was alive. Based on what they shared, it seems like he might have gone through... well, something quite challenging. I'm struggling to find the right words to describe it."
"I did notice certain dissociative tendencies in him," Abaddon commented. "You mentioned previously that you brought him to the cabin in an attempt to alleviate some of the difficulties he was facing with his employer." Charlie nodded in confirmation.
"I only found out about this recently," Charlie admitted. "Valentino, Angel's employer, has been subjecting him to abuse simply due to his position as an employee. Being an Overlord, he seems to believe he's entitled to such behavior. But the night I made the decision to take Angel and Cherri to the cabin, Val did something truly terrible to Angel. You've witnessed at least some of the injuries that resulted from that incident."
"I've had the chance to examine the black eye while he was unconscious," Abaddon responded. "Thankfully, I haven't identified any lasting damage to the orbital structure. I might need to reevaluate it later, but chances are the injury will heal once the swelling subsides. As for the other injuries... Could you provide me with more details about what transpired?"
"I don't have a complete understanding of the events," Charlie sighed. "I have a good idea as to what was done though. The night before we set out for here, Angel didn't return to the hotel. We were all concerned, fearing something might have happened to him. However, I hesitated to jump to conclusions without knowing the full picture, in case it could worsen the situation. When he finally came back to the hotel the following evening, he was utterly worn out and seriously injured, to the point of collapsing in the entryway. He managed to tell us that Valentino and Vox had one of their typical breakups. That's when I instructed Angel and Cherri to pack for two weeks because we were leaving town. Once we arrived here, one of my initial steps was to call Valentino. I do have a recording of the conversation in case you need it."
"That will be something I would like to have on record," Abaddon responded. "Any information that I can add to my notes about this case will be important. As for Angel, he will need substantial care, and I am inclined to think that having him go back to the cabin might indeed aid in his recovery. I can provide guidance on how to manage the opiate dosage, if you and your companions are interested."
"That's excellent," Charlie said with a note of relief and gratitude in her voice.
"Is there anything else you require?" Dr. Abaddon inquired.
"I understand," Charlie replied hesitantly. "This compound is typically reserved for my family's use. Nonetheless, I have a trip back to the hotel planned in a few weeks. It's uncertain if Angel will have made enough progress to return to the city by then. Given his need for medical supervision during this drug withdrawal, could an exception possibly be considered? My parents aren't frequent visitors here, and there usually isn't a lot for the staff to attend to."
"I comprehend your proposal," Abaddon replied. "Nevertheless, this location might not provide the refuge you're envisioning."
"I understand your perspective," Charlie countered. "But compared to the hotel, this place seems to be a better option. I've already informed Valentino that Angel's employment at his studio is terminated. However, to that Overlord, Angel isn't just an employee; he's seen as property, something he can exploit and market as merchandise. If there's a way for Val to reclaim him, he will attempt it. I don't want Angel to feel confined like a prisoner in the hotel, yet I also want to ensure he's not in a location where Valentino or his associates could apprehend him. While here, he would have limits within the estate, but his freedom would still be comparable to being in the city. This isn't a permanent arrangement, but it could serve as a safe space for his recovery, allowing him to eventually return to the hotel once he's no longer dependent on the drugs."
"I suppose..." Abaddon said thoughtfully. "I'll make a call to your father later today. It might be wise to omit certain details about who is staying here and the circumstances. However, I'll be sure to communicate that this arrangement is per your request and intended as a strictly temporary measure."
"You're welcome," Charlie replied with gratitude. "I understand my father's usual approach is to avoid getting involved in demon affairs. However, if there's anyone he might be willing to listen to regarding this matter, I believe it would be you."
Flashback
Angel's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself reclined in an old clawfoot bathtub. The surroundings were unfamiliar, signaling that this was not his usual living space. The realization hit him that his older brother had indeed found him, shattering any fleeting hopes that this might have been some dream. He looked upwards, taking in his surroundings. The room seemed to belong to an old apartment building, one that the family might utilize when they needed to prepare for war like conflicts against the other families. Enzo, his older brother, probably placed him here to prevent any potential infestations from spreading to the rest of their safe houses. Angel's thoughts shifted to his brother's concern about unwanted "passengers" he might have picked up due to his vulnerable state. A fleeting, humorous thought crossed his mind, pondering if Enzo had thought of that while hovering over him the previous night. However, he quickly dismissed the idea. Enzo was far from foolish; he would have undoubtedly taken necessary precautions to address any potential issues. A small jug of white vinegar, an old pillowcase, and a fine-toothed comb were neatly arranged near the door, indicating a purpose for their presence.
The presence of the vinegar was a clear indication that Angel was confined to this room until the parasites residing in his fur were eradicated. Any clothing he had was to be gathered and placed in the provided pillowcase, ready for laundering to ensure thorough cleanliness.
"Whatever ya say, Fratello," Angel sighed with a mix of resignation and familiarity, addressing his older sibling in Italian word for brother. He began the process of undressing, neatly placing his clothing inside the pillowcase and securely knotting the open end. With the vinegar jug and comb in hand, he cautiously stepped into the bathtub, the sharp scent of vinegar enveloping him as he poured the fluid over his body. He meticulously massaged the pungent solution into the thickest patches of fur, ensuring that every corner was reached. The acidic nature of the vinegar would effectively eliminate the fleas and contribute to the elimination of any lice eggs. As for the lice themselves, at best, they would be agitated enough by the aroma to abandon their host. Setting the jug aside, Angel settled himself into the comfort of the white enameled cast iron basin, allowing the vinegar to fulfill its role as he waited.
After the passage of approximately thirty minutes, Angel rose from the bathtub and pulled the shower curtain across. Upon moving, he observed with a certain degree of satisfaction the tiny lifeless bodies of fleas that had been dislodged from his fur by the vinegar treatment. Turning the shower faucet to a comfortably warm temperature, he allowed the water to wash away the lingering vinegar, utilizing the comb to capture the pale gray lice and their eggs as they were flushed out. Under the steady stream of water, he'd clean off the grub-like parasites from the comb's tines before resuming his task. Spotting a bottle of shampoo perched on the overhead shelf, he reached up to retrieve it. While the shampoo wouldn't directly address the lice, it would certainly help eliminate any remaining fleas that had managed to survive the vinegar treatment. The white-furred spider reasoned that he might need to repeat the vinegar procedure a few more times to ensure the complete eradication of the lice infestation. Nevertheless, the current efforts were proving effective in significantly reducing their numbers for the time being.
With the shower now off, Angel stepped out and reached for a towel hanging conveniently close to the wall. After a thorough drying, he wrapped the cotton fabric around his waist, realizing that he had nothing else to wear within this room. He paused, listening attentively for any signs of movement in the adjacent spaces. The absence of any sounds indicated that Enzo or any other occupants of this residence were likely away. Considering that he had just completed his cleansing routine, he figured he posed a lower risk of carrying any infestations. He cautiously turned the doorknob and opened the door, revealing an apartment that appeared to be mostly vacant.
The apartment's furnishings were simple and utilitarian, including a couch, a table, and a set of chairs. In the sole bedroom, a solitary mattress with accompanying blankets was neatly laid out. Some clean clothing awaited Angel's use, consisting of a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and flannel boxer shorts. Angel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the clothing choices. Among his siblings, it was Enzo who consistently had the most difficulty with his sexual orientation. Enzo would frequently emphasize how Angel's being gay could reflect on their family's reputation and how it might affect their father's standing among other mob families. These admonishments were often accompanied by reminders of the dire consequences should he be suspected, and the advice that he should "man up" and rid himself of this "Homo BS" by engaging with a few women. Angel couldn't quite discern the extent to which these views were purely Enzo's, or if their father's influence was also at play. Throughout their childhood, his older brother had often treated him as if he were an adversary. Although there were times when their relationship was more balanced, much of the time, Enzo exhibited a particularly harsh attitude towards him, especially in the presence of their father.
Feeling somewhat exposed in just the towel, Angel quickly accepted the clothing provided and retreated to the bedroom to change. He placed the towel he had used into the same pillowcase where his previous outfit lay, ensuring it would be part of the next laundry batch. Now freshly bathed and dressed, he conducted a casual survey of the apartment, checking for any tasks that might need his attention. There was no sign of any food, ruling out cooking as an option. Given the possibility that this apartment was intended to be a secure location for the Ragno Crime Family in potential conflicts with rival groups, it was likely not meant for long-term habitation. The circumstances indicated that Angel's stay here was intended to be temporary.
"Anthony,"
Angel's attention was drawn upwards as he heard his name being called. His nap had seemingly stretched on for quite a while, as indicated by the crimson hue of the sky, characteristic of the Pride Ring's unique atmosphere. Rising from where he lay, he exited the bedroom and moved into the living area. There, a spider demon with a dark-hued fur was in the midst of placing a takeout bag onto the kitchen counter. He reached for a plate from the assortment available, which Angel had observed was far from uniform—a collection of plates and bowls that didn't match the typical well-ordered variety found in a regular family home. This further affirmed the notion that this apartment was not intended for permanent residency.
Seeing his brother's demon form for the first time in detail was a complex experience for Angel. His own demeanor had never been particularly friendly, yet observing Enzo now presented a challenge to truly digest. The sight was almost overwhelming, and perhaps his lack of clarity from the previous night was beneficial in this case.
He found himself contemplating if he had chosen to fully embrace the life of their crime family as his brother had, would his own demonic form have taken on a more sinister aspect like Enzo's? Unintentionally, Angel's hand lifted to cover his darker eye, a subtle gesture that appeared as though he was rubbing his eye to remove an irritant. The difference in size between them was a stark irony. Despite being five years older, Enzo had always been more or less the same height as Angel. Yet, now Angel stood as the bigger of the two in a literal sense, despite being the younger sibling. His taller, white-furred form locked eyes with Enzo's red sclerae, a gaze that conveyed the sentiment, "Show me, see, that puttin' my stake in this ain't gonna be a big waste."
"Fratello," Angel greeted." He was aware that he projected a sense of anxious tension, though he hoped his brother hadn't picked up on it. Their relationship had never been particularly close, especially given their father's tendency to keep Enzo close by his side whenever possible. Enzo remained silent, signaling towards the takeout bag to indicate that Angel was the intended recipient of its contents. Angel didn't question this; he knew his older brother well enough to understand that poisoning wasn't his preferred method, and if Enzo had wanted him eliminated, he had ample opportunities to do so since locating him beneath that bridge. However, one question continued to linger in his mind: What motivated Enzo to go to the trouble of arranging this?
Angel untied the takeout bag and uncovered its contents, releasing a distinct aroma of lemons along with the subtle notes of olive oil. Inside the container was lemon tagliatelle pasta, its warm, wide noodles coated in a glossy layer of olive oil and adorned with yellow lemon zest and delicate shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. Atop the pasta lay vibrant green arugula leaves, providing a burst of color and freshness to the dish.
"Tagliatelle al limone?" Angel inquired, seeking confirmation of the dish. Enzo responded with a noncommittal grunt as he settled into a seat, igniting a cigarette. The white-furred spider calmly dished out a serving of the lemon-infused pasta onto his plate. He took note of a solitary loaf of ciabatta bread, setting it on the edge of the plate before joining Enzo at the table.
As he began to eat, Angel's curiosity compelled him to pose a question. "How'd ya pull off findin' me?"
"Valvano," Enzo replied with a directness that struck Angel deeply. The mere mention of that name sent a shiver down his spine. Did his brother truly understand the extent of what Mario Valvano had done? More precisely, what both Mario and his cousin Piero had done when they discovered that Angel had taken refuge in that derelict church?
"I overheard him last night," Enzo continued, shedding light on his discovery. "He was flappin' his gums 'bout you, spillin' that you was bunkered down under the 'Abandoned Hope Bridge,' and he was aimin' to drop by. So when I caught wind you was makin' tracks in that direction, I shadowed ya and beat him to the punch."
"Oh," Angel replied, his response tinged with a sense of unease. He attempted to mask his anxiety by concentrating on his food, though the enjoyment he might have derived from the pasta dish had completely evaporated.
"Hey, why you keep mum 'bout what that mug did to ya?" Enzo inquired, his question carrying a weight of concern. Angel took a sharp breath in, a sudden apprehension rising within him. Did Enzo possess knowledge of the horrific events that transpired in the Sanctuary of Lord Baal that fateful night a year ago?
"I, uh..." Angel began, his mind scrambling to find the right words, attempting to navigate the delicate terrain of this conversation.
"Celani spilled that he took a shot at roughin' you up." Enzo stated, his gaze fixed anywhere but directly at his younger brother. "Leastways, that's the tale he spilled when I paid a visit to his family's vineyard, nosin' around 'bout how you was holdin' up."
"You knew," Angel exclaimed, his grip on the fork tightening before it slipped from his hand, clattering to the table. His gaunt form was now taut with anger, the tension palpable in the air. "All them years we was breathin'. Every time you cracked a joke 'bout me supposedly earnin' my bones by offin' someone by accident, you had the lowdown on what that rat had tried pullin'."
"Yeah, I was in the loop," Enzo retorted, his response firm and unyielding. "I kept my trap shut 'cause I was hopin' you'd finally have the guts to come clean 'bout what went down, all on your lonesome."
"Hey, Fratello, ya ever been through the wrenchin' ordeal of a sexual assault, huh?" Angel's voice was demanding. "Ya grasp the deep shame that comes with them advances ya never asked for? Even whisperin' 'bout protectin' meself by endin' his life would practically sign my own death warrant. Only 'cause of that massive gang brawl did that whole mess finally get put to rest."
"Don't seem like that's stopped ya from fully embracin' the whole promiscuous gig, Fratellino." Enzo retorted, his voice dripping with venom. "Ya gone and picked yerself a moniker that screams it loud and clear. Tell me, Anthony, ya struttin' 'round all proud as a peacock? Or do ya answer to Angel Dust these days?"
"What I've become ain't got no ties to you or the family no more." Angel remarked sternly. "At its heart, this whole mess comes down to the fact that neither you nor Pops could ever accept who I truly am. Ya think I didn't warn Luca that he'd be better off chasin' after Molls, knowin' the inevitable if he chose a life with me? Ya reckon I didn't try datin' girls to hide my real self from the world? Every time Pops would nag that I oughta been born a girl, or when he'd lay into me and drill into my head how much I disappointed him, you just stood there and watched. Don't give me the idea you had it any smoother; I know Pops directed his anger at you too. But that don't excuse all them chances you had to do somethin', anything. Remember Mamma's last words as she passed... she begged us to look out for each other, talkin' 'bout all three of us. Seems like Molly and I were the only ones who truly gave a damn 'bout that."
"You ain't got no business speakin' her name no more, ya hear?" Enzo shot back with a sharp edge in his voice. "Not after all the bullshit you had pulled. You ain't got a clue 'bout the hell she went through while you up and died, but I was right there? I saw with my own two eyes how you damn near ripped her apart at the seams."
"Ya got it dead-on, I'll never truly get what she went through." Angel's voice was bitter as he turned to leave the room. "But I could feel her right there with me through all them days I was dead to the world. Remember, she's my twin; an essential slice of my own soul. I knew my state was torturin' her, and I longed to come to for her sake. The one time you swung by was to ask if I was happy 'bout tearin' our family to shreds. I reckon you've raised your boys better than how Pops brought us up. It'd be a real shame to watch them fall into the same mess of dysfunction we did."
"Ya got some real brass ones to talk like that, I'll give ya that much." Enzo hissed in response. "You was never around to know 'em, capisce?" Angel paused, struck by his brother's words. Enzo's voice carried anger and bitterness, yet there was an underlying layer, something profound and unhealed.
"Ya never thought they could be touched by me in any manner?"Angel asked cautiously, sensing the complexity of the situation.
"Whaddya mean?" Enzo replied, sounding somewhat startled by the question. "Every time I brought them little ones around, Pops would always say you had some mighty convenient business keepin' ya busy."
"That dame you got hitched to..." Angel's voice was heavy with a mixture of hurt and resentment. "She caught me just as I was headin' out not long after Salvatore was born. She spilled that you and her figured it wouldn't be right for me to meet my own nephew, 'cause you didn't want the little fella growin' up thinkin' it's normal for guys to like other guys. Even Pops threw in his two cents, sayin' your young'uns were better off not gettin' acquainted with me, so they wouldn't catch 'The Gays,' as he put it. So, every time you brought the kids 'round, he'd make sure I was stuck in that storage room down in the basement. Ya recall the spot... the same room where Pops would lock me up durin' his so-called "correction" sessions."
Charlie decided to make a stop at Angel's room in the clinic before heading back to the cabin for the evening. Peering into the room, she noticed him curled up on his side, almost as though he had slipped back into sleep. But she sensed that this wasn't slumber; it was more reminiscent of the instance in the car when she had heard him softly crying in his sleep. This vulnerability mirrored that moment, yet it didn't seem rooted in recent events. With his knees pulled up to his chest, an air of profound loss and loneliness surrounded him.
Stepping inside, she located a nearby chair and settled into it, providing a comforting presence. She wanted him to know that someone was there for him, even if only for the moment. Beyond the room's window, the radiant sphere of Heaven was ascending into the sky, casting a tranquil glow over the scene.
~I don't know what role you played in his life, Molly,~ Charlie's thoughts reached out toward the celestial expanse. ~I'm not even certain if you reside in Heaven, but I truly wish I had a way to connect with you. There's a strong sense that Angel could use your presence right now.~