Angel Mine

Bex walked the rest of the way home, completely out of sorts. It had been a strange day.

The dead man's name was indeed Aaron Dinsdale. It was possible that the other man had been his killer, or at least known him, and would know details about his life.

The strange disappearance of the other man was harder to explain.

When the police were satisfied that Bex, punk or not, probably had nothing to do with it, they let her go, with a comment that they would look her up if they had any other questions. She quickly agreed, and then got out of there as soon as possible, heading back through the alleys toward her apartment.

"Hello."

"Shit!" 

Bex startled badly, and then recognised the speaker as the same man she had found standing above the body at the crime scene, before his disappearing act.

"Where the hell did you go?" she demanded. "The police wanted to talk to you!"

The man looked confused.

"I told you. I needed to complete delivery."

"Complete delivery! What the - look, you better not be up to something. I have a knife."

"No, you don't."

"What?"

"You should. Have a knife, I mean. Not for me. I mean no harm. But there are many in this city who do."

"Okay, arsehole, whatever your name is - "

"It's Mac."

" - you don't run off from a murder scene! The police were really suspicious! And I didn't even do anything!"

"My apologies, Rebecca."

"It's Bex, and - wait. When did I tell you my name?"

"You didn't have to. I already know it."

"Okay, creep, are you stalking me?!"

"No."

"Then how the hell would you know my name?"

"I'm an angel. We know all names."

Oh, great. First good-looking guy I meet in ages, and he's completely bonkers. 

Bex gave him a look of disbelief.

"You're an angel."

He nodded solemnly. When he caught her look of disbelief, he said:

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Is that a real question?"

"Yes."

"First of all, because angels aren't real, and even if they were, what the hell would one doing here - "

He looked insulted.

"Yes, we are."

Then, considering her question, said:

"Collecting a soul for delivery."

" - and even if they were, why would one want to talk to me, of all people?"

Mac looked at her curiously.

"Why not?"

Bex gestured at herself angrily.

"Because - you know what? I don't need this, why am I even still talking to you, this is how people get murdered."

"I did not kill that man."

"Sure thing," she said, and then turned to go.

"I can show you."

Despite herself, Bex paused.

"Show me what?"

And when she looked at him again, he was suddenly dwarfed by two enormous wings.

She gasped.

"Holy shit," she said.

"I hope not," said Mac earnestly, and she gave a startled laugh.

"This has got to be, what? Special effects? A - a hidden camera show?" she asked.

"No cameras. No tricks."

Bex just stared at him.

"Okay," she said. "No. Just no. Not today."

"But - "

And Bex ran like hell out of there, away from the man who claimed to be an angel, away from the image of wings now imprinted on her memory.

Bex hightailed it back to her flat, where there had apparently been a party recently, judging by all the sleeping figures in the wide-open space they called a living room.

Back in her little room, Bex paced back and forth.

"This can't be happening. It just can't!" she said. "This is - this is like the Doctor suddenly showing up asking if I want to take a ride in the TARDIS! I mean. What does this mean, for like, the afterlife, heaven, hell, everything?"

She thought of Trina, and whether she'd even want to know about Mac or the body she'd found, but they were still best friends and they always talked to each other when meeting a guy for the first time. She supposed this qualified, more or less.

The household was lucky enough to have a telephone, although it wasn't always easy to find it free, since the apartment was already overpopulated and Bex wasn't even always certain who her roommates were, given all the comings and goings. Her own cramped little room was something of a luxury, because a lot of people tended to stay out in the warehouse-style space and crash on the floor, with little to no concern for privacy, sleeping on various couches and whatever marginally soft area they could find. It was that vibrant exciting London lifestyle she'd always heard about while at sheepdog trials and mucking out stables. She'd kind of envisioned something a little less grimy, but unless she wanted to have the same goals as Trina, she supposed this was her lot.

She finally made it to the phone, which was blessedly free for once, picking her way through various arms and other limbs of those dead to the world from whatever revelry had been taking place the night before.

"It's the afternoon already," she informed the cadre of sleepers, but received nothing but a grunt and various stirrings in reply. "Least the phone's free."

She dialed Trina's number, praying that she was in and could receive a call, and was overjoyed when she answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Trina! Oh, thank goodness."

"Bex? Didn't I just leave you when I went to the station?"

"Yes!"

"Everything all right?"

"No. I found a dead body."

Trina's responding startled gasp was somewhat edifying, and Bex went on:

"He'd been murdered."

"Bex!! Are you okay?"

"Well, that's the thing. This - guy showed up."

"The murderer?!"

"No. Well, at least, I don't think so. But - look, it's not very private here, can we meet up?"

"Of course! Let me cancel my hair appointment - "

"You have a hair appointment?"

"Yes, do you think these curls stay like this with no work put in? It's a perm. Anyway let's meet, I know this brilliant café."

And Trina gave her the address. Bex hung up and grabbed her stuff from the room, heading back outside before the arms and legs tangled up together here and there in a pile all over the floor and furniture decided it was probably time to get up and face the day, maybe, along with Bex facing some questions about the telephone conversation they'd overheard despite appearances. So she got out of the flat soon as, and made her way toward the address Trina had given her over the phone.

The 'little café' that Trina knew happened to be the poshest place Bex had ever seen in her life, and that was after their little brunch that morning, which was already a concept looked upon with great doubt and suspicion by the people back home.

"Wow, you really meant it when you said you wanted this lifestyle," marvelled Bex. "Very flash."

"Ha ha, bitch all you want, but at least the coffee is good," said Trina. 

"Coffee? How unpatriotic of you."

"Coffee was once the drink of the London elite," sniffed Trina, and then took her hand from across the table, warm and welcome. "So, what happened?! Are you okay? I was absolutely gobsmacked when you called me."

"I think so?" said Bex, only realising then that the image of the murdered man was still there behind her eyelids whenever she closed her eyes, and that the murder itself hadn't really sunk in. "It was pretty close to my flat - "

"You have got to move out of that neighbourhood."

"The rent's cheap!"

"Yes, because it's apparently full of murderers!"

"It's not full of murderers - "

"Okay. Sure. It's a real paradise over there. So, you said you met a guy?"

"It wasn't like that, some kind of - no."

"Well, was he good-looking?"

"Yes!"

"So what's the problem?"

"What's the - well, there's the little issue of a murder!"

"You said he wasn't the murderer."

"Probably."

"Okay, probably wasn't the murderer. So then - "

"He's an angel, Trina!"

"Even better!"

"No, I mean - " she gestured desperately, indicating wings, and in a low hiss said, "you know, fluffy wings, halo - angel. For real."

Now Trina looked very worried.

"It must've been really hard to see a dead body like that," she said sympathetically.

Bex made a noise of frustration.

"No, it - okay, yes, it was, but I'm absolutely fuckin' serious here, Treen, he was - he just was, can you just believe me, please?"

Trina gave her an evaluating look.

"Okay," she said. "Okay. If you say he's an angel, like an actual real live angel, I believe you."

She was quiet for a while, warming her hands on her mug of coffee.

"So what's his name?"

"Mac."

"That's not a name, that's a nickname."

"That's what he said."

Bex stared at Trina for a moment.

"Do you really need shoulderpads that big?"

"They're empowering - will you focus?"

"Sure thing, Barbie."

"That's not even - hey!"

Bex sighed.

"Sorry, it's been...a weird day."

She looked at their surroundings.

"What is this place, anyway? Seems like it's been around a while."

"Oh. It's called Angel Corner House, but it used to be a pub before it got a makeover."

"Hi!"

Bex nearly spilled her coffee.

Mac was sitting - perching, really - on the side of the wall near their table and some questionable paintings for sale by a local artist.

"What the - "

"I heard you talking about angels!" he said, in a sort of bright hopeful tone.

"That's - we were having a private conversation!" said Bex, exasperated.

Trina was gaping at him.

"This is him?"

"Yeah. Trina, meet Mac. An angel, apparently."

"Nice to meet you, Trina," said Mac, shaking her hand. "I hope your dad is doing better."

"How did you - " Trina nodded. "Right. Angel."

"See?" asked Mac triumphantly. "She believes me."

"Yeah, why is that?" demanded Bex. "I told you he was an angel, but you doubted me. Now he shows up and you're all like..."

She made a random gesture in the hopes that Trina would understand.

Trina shrugged, and then pulled out a tiny crucifix on a delicate golden chain.

"Faith," she said.

"Implying I don't have any."

"Well, do you?"

Bex just stared at her.

"Regardless," she said, turning smartly away from that subject. "What are you doing here, Mac? Don't you have souls to collect?"

"Not at the moment. I have specific assignments and right now there's nothing. So I thought I'd come and say hi! So...Hi!"

Bex groaned.

"Fine, but why me?" she asked. "Aren't there some investment bankers to annoy around here?"

Mac made a face.

"Those are not my remit," he said. "But I like you, Bex! You're very colourful."

He indicated her rainbow-coloured Mohican hairstyle.

"She is," said Trina with a grin.

"I'm glad this is very amusing to you," said Bex, in a huff.

"Okay!" said Mac cheerily. "Where to now?"

"Well, I had to reschedule my hair appointment, so I'm free all afternoon."

"You're not actually suggesting we hang out with him?"

Trina shrugged. She took a sip of her drink through a straw and left pink lipstick marks on it.

"He's an angel, Bex. I don't think we should abandon him."

"Well, what then? Take him to the mall? A shopping visit to Harrods?"

Trina looked at both of them, and Mac's eager expression.

"You know," she said, "that might be an idea."

"Oh no," groaned Bex, dropping her forehead to the table.