Heaven's Closed

Heaven’s Closed

  By Lucy Pireel

  Copyright December 2012 Lucy Pireel

  All rights reserved

  Cover art by Julie Falk

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, trademarked products, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  Heaven's Gate

  Writer's Magic

  I would like to thank the team of great people at Writer’s Beat Quarterly for their outstanding editing job on my winning entry in their Deserted Road competition and the first story in this book, Heaven’s Gate.

  The book Junkies for accepting the second story, Writer’s Magic, for publication on their website. The photographer, Julie Falk, who was kind enough to let me use her beautiful picture of an angel as basis for the cover of this free edition.

  And finally all the people who were and still are there for me.

  Heaven's Gate

  One of these days I have to stop working this road. Not much action anymore, not since the police started rounding up Johns and taking photographs of license plates. The girls are looking for new places to hustle, but I stay. I have to.

  The ones remaining are those who cannot leave, like me. The other girls, and me, we’ve got an itch that can only be scratched by a certain kind of John. We yearn for the man who can make the girls forget, like I want to forget …

  If I ask Michael for some TLC, that would seriously help me. His touch works like magic, even if it stings. It only takes one for the night to come to life with every shade of grey and black imaginable. I see what was hidden before in outbursts of color. So maybe I should …

  There is a guy walking up and down the now empty road, in full view of the cameras mounted on every corner. He is whistling an ominous tune and looks at me like I am one of the girls. He slowly stalks me; closer and closer he comes. It freaks me out. I almost shout for help, for Michael, when he whispers, “I can help you.”

  I ignore him, but he keeps walking towards me until he is real close. He has a handsome face, lips made to kiss, and eyes as blue as heaven. Not even Michael is this good looking. No reason to be afraid.

  “I’m not the one who needs help on this road.” Even with the rush on me, I calmly float in this sea of grey and black images.

  He will leave if I pay no attention to him. He’d better leave before Michael descends and teaches him a lesson. I am supposed to be stronger than this, and I fear Michael and his judging eyes. If he thinks I am slacking, he will put me in an even worse spot. No, it will be better if I solve this on my own, now, before Michael sees I need help.

  “I could help you … it’s what I do … I can give you whatever you wish … and more. Perhaps we can make a deal?” I attempt to reverse our roles.

  He must be looking for some pleasure, what else is he doing here? I flaunt my assets like I have seen the other girls do. Somehow it doesn’t affect him. He keeps staring at my eyes, with those sapphires of his. I wish he would lower his gaze. My boobs are worth staring at. Why does he pretend to not see them through the sheer fabric of my robe? It itches like hell; never did before. Jeez, got to scratch, but that could break the spell. I clench my fists.

  “What is it you are searching for? You can tell me. Ask any of the girls. Nothing is too crazy for me.” I have to take it up a notch.

  He pretends not to hear me. Instead he circles me, driving me to where it’s darker. His footfalls are loud; his breath is hot and heavy behind me. I will not turn around. I refuse to be scared by a man. Not even this one. I am not afraid. He can’t touch me.

  But, I do turn around, just in time to see him take a wand out of his chest pocket; thin, not too long and shining like the sun on a mirror. Now that’s different. Maybe he isn’t just any man. Maybe he is like Michael. If he is, then I am in need of help, but not from him.

  “Why have you come to me?” My voice has an edge to it.

  “I think you know, my angel.” His stays calm, detached.

  Shit, shit, shit! He knows! Lame, If Michael finds out …

  “Now tell me, did you find Heaven’s Gate here, on this road?”

  Why does he ask, if he knows?

  “Michael is near! He will come! You can’t hurt me!” I shriek; my throat is dry as sandpaper.

  “I know … But I can still play with you …”  He is behind me now. I stand very still, and I don’t even blink. His words are hot on my neck, on my cheek. “Nobody to stop me … Not now …”  His lips almost touch my ear; the heat of his body warms my side. “I’ll make you a deal …” Oh, those sapphires burn my corneas when I look at them. That voice of his scrambles my brain. “Let me help you, and I will find another to play with.” Those last words fall upon my skin like feathers, it’s all I can do not to lean into him.

  I take a deep breath and shudder, before answering. “Why do you think you can help me?”

  He smiles, and now shivers run down my spine. I should not be afraid of this man. I swallow and wipe my clammy hands on my robe. It’s no longer itching, but burning like liquid candle wax where it touches my skin. I pluck at it, ready to rip it off; instead I pick up my bow, and play with it. Never noticed before how it feels in my hands. It is rough, like it is made of iron -- rusted iron.

  “I can bring back life to this road. Make it so that you actually have a purpose instead of just standing there, waiting for an opportunity to loose that arrow at some sorry bastard.”

  Am I hearing him right? He’s saying he can overrule the mayor’s decision? “How would you do that? Michael won’t let you.” Exasperated, I can already see this opportunity pass me by.

  But …  maybe I should make this deal. It would earn me points to shoot and actually hit something. Maybe I would no longer have to stand here, on this deserted road, without a chance to score for real.

  “I could start by bringing people back to this area. I could give the girls a place off the street … That would bring the Johns back … You could work for me.”

  Sounds good, but Michael will not tolerate it. He has placed me here, out on the street, for all to see and use. Oh yeah right, I should be the one using. Or am I being used? I am confused. This man is messing with my head. I have to focus, but it’s hard. Slowly the words trickle from my mouth. “If … you … bring back life … to … Here … this deserted road … that’s good … for me … the girls … I can’t … I … already … have … a boss.”

  He laughs and points his wand at me. Sweat starts to form beads on my upper lip. I haven’t broken a sweat since I joined the ranks. I’ve pretty much lost all human emotions, except for fear. I know fear … and desire.

  “I won’t hurt you … It is just a game. You try to shoot me, I will try to stop you. If I can touch you, you are mine … If you shoot me …”

  If I score him he is mine … for eternity. Not a bad deal. I can do that. I can already imagine having him at my beck and call. I really so need to focus. My aim isn’t that great, but he is standing awfully close; it’s impossible to miss, even for me, even now. He, on the other hand, needs to come up close and personal to be able to touch me. Confident, I smile and nock an arrow to my string.

  He rushes forward, almost past my bow and into my chest. His arm extends, and the wand is pointed at my throat, barely touching me. He chuckles; I swallow.

  “Never play with the devil, little angel … You might get burnt … Or taken to Hell.”

  Why didn’t I see it? Smell it? Now it’s too late. This close, the smell is hard to miss. The gleam in his eyes was another sign. His confidence also should have given me a clue, but I was too preoccupied with the road being too empty to notice this was no ordinary man, and now it’s too
late. He has me, no escaping this, unless … Slowly I raise my bow; it’s heavy. The arrow is almost in position to pierce his heart. Yes, even the devil has a heart to be stabbed. It won’t kill him; my arrows are not meant to kill. It will make him love the first woman he sees, and what do you know. That would be me.

  “It seems we are in a stalemate.” He purrs. “You won’t be able to shoot me before I …” He grins and lightly touches my skin with his wand. “… but I would love it if you tried.”

  Without delay I release the arrow, at the same moment a burning pain pierces my brain, and everything disappears in a haze of white.

  #

  “This is Trisha Manning, and I am standing here on this deserted road, where the body of a young woman is found. She is probably one of the girls who refused to leave after this road was wiped clean of dealers, pimps and hookers. The police have stated no evidence of foul play is found. The official statement is that she died of an overdose of drugs. This could be one of the long line of victims fallen prey to the drug they call ‘Heaven’s gate’. My source tells me the smile on her face is a clear sign of her abuse of it. Evidence, however, has to come from the coroner after the autopsy. This was Trisha Manning. Back to you, Curt, for the weather.”

  Writer's Magic

  After picking the right dress and finally finding those matching shoes Amelia stood in the bathroom. Looking at herself in the mirror seeing she needed a bit more to be ready to go. Raphael would be there soon and Amelia still had her hair to dry, nails to polish and one more wish to write. Seeing how well she could write that needn’t take long. She glanced at the clock. Shit, six-thirty! How did it get this late? Nothing but beautiful was good enough for her white knight and now she was going to be late.

  Her mother wrote him into her life but warned, “Always be at your best for him, dear child. I can draw him to you, but keeping him is up to you.”

  Amelia had taken her mothers advice to heart. She had always been on time and ready for any tryst with Raphael. After applying the last roller to her hair she reached for the dryer. Stopping short of taking it.

  “You can’t ever use my stuff again, Amelia,” Anna said after she’d borrowed a dress and returned it with a stain. Amelia had it dry-cleaned, but her sister still held a grudge. Amelia shrugged off her unease and plugged in Anna’s blowdryer. The moment it came on it jolted her so badly she flew backwards and landed in the still filled tub. Amelia barely managed to keep the dryer above water.

  “Son of a …,” she muttered under her breath. On a reflex she tugged the cord from the outlet. Trembling she cradled her hand, afraid to look. She took a deep breath. After a moment, winching in pain, she examined the large blister covering her palm. Shit. No way was she going to manage getting her hair done, let alone polish her nails. She could forget about writing too. Storming out of her room to the hallway Amelia called her twin sister, “Anna.”

  “What!”

  “You need to help me get my hair done.”

  “Why? I’m good for nothing, you’ve said so yourself.” Anna came out to the hallway and looked at her sister, rollers in hair, clenched fist. “Tell me. Dear sister,” she said and pursed her lips. “Why would I help you get ready for a party, when you’re more than happy to let me be on my own on New Year’s Eve?”

  “Okay!” Amelia said. “If you help me, you can come, but I warn you, don’t ogle Raphael’s friends.” She glared at her sister and ordered, “Now get my rollers out and brush my hair until it shines. If it needs additional drying, your blowdryer is on the bathroom floor.” Let’s see if the stupid thing shocks her too.

  Cursing her sister Anna went into the bathroom and picked up the blowdryer just in case she might need it. As she touched the cord, an image of it wrapped around Amelia’s neck flashed through her mind. A shiver ran down her spine, her lips curled slightly up. Grinning she shook her head. It’s was good thing they were sisters, because they did test each other’s limits for sports. One by one Anna took the rollers out of Amelia’s hair, brushed and blew more volume in it. Each time the cord came near Amelia’s neck Anna was tempted to wrap it around the witch’s neck. Oh, to pull until the wench choked. One day you’ll cross the line Amelia dear, one day.

  “All done,” Anna said on a semi-cheerful tone. She applied a layer of lack to hold the cloud of spun gold in place for the party to come. Then she asked, “Do you want me to polish your nails to a shine? Or do you need a colour?” Ashen maybe? Then I’d wear black for the occasion.

  Amelia clenched her fist opened it and lifted a brow. The blister had disappeared as if it never existed. Anna smiled regarding her sister’s amazement in the mirror.

  “Something wrong Amelia?” Anna asked while she touched her sister’s hair one more time. Wiggling her fingers over it she mumbled a few words. That should do it and she drew a sign in the air behind her sister’s back.

  Amelia glared at Anna’s reflection before she answered, “Nothing wrong. Just buff my nails to a shine. We don’t have time for colour. Raph’ll be here soon, I need to be ready before time. And if you insist on coming along you should do something about that mess you’re in.” Amelia sneered at her twin.

  “Oh, I will. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready.” On her way out of Amelia’s room she stuck a tiny piece of paper between the door and the frame upon closing it behind her. “And you’ll be late,” she whispered.

  #

  The doorbell rang, followed by a rap at the door. Raphael smiled as he thought back on how Amelia had immediately attracted his attention the moment they’d met. Magical and only a week ago, a dream come true. Now, why didn’t she answer the door?

  “Shit!” Amelia muttered. She’d just finished dressing. Glancing at the clock she noticed the time. Nine o’clock? How did it get to be nine? Again Raphael’s impatience sounded through his rapid knock on the door. “Holy Mother, no need to pound down the door. What was I thinking when I wrote last time?” Amelia said. She rushed down the stairs. Then flew to the door and threw it open. Raphael’s hand just reached out again. He had his lips pressed together, eyes screwed up, worried. The moment his gaze found Amelia’s face his eyes lit up and relief replaced the tensed frown he’d had. He let out his breath and inhaled her intoxicating scent. 

  Amelia smiled. She touched his outstretched hand and said, “Raph, sorry for the wait, I was upstairs. Had to help Anna. She’s coming along, you don’t mind do you?” Stepping aside to let him in she leaned into him. As he passed her she fully expected him to kiss her. And he did like a man in the desert finally finding water.

  “Whatever you want,” he said absentminded. “You know I can never say no to you.” He caressed her arm. Trailing his fingers down to her hand.

  And so you shouldn’t. Not with all the writing I did on you, Amelia thought.

  But suddenly his eyes darted to the stairs. He took her wrist in an iron grip and pulled her closer. “I see your sister’s done a better job at preparing for a party than you did.”

  “Raphael, you’re hurting me.” Amelia exclaimed and tried to pry off his fingers from her arm. Unbelieving she saw the look of enchantment on his face as he stared past her. Amelia turned. Anna descended down the stairs. No, floated! Amelia’s jaw dropped. How could Anna wear that dress? She’d written her armoire closed. But there Anna stood. The emerald green, chiffon dress billowed around her slender legs, showing the contours of her body, revealing a perfect figure. And her hair! It shone like polished brass. She had it piled up on her head while tiny curls escaped the intricate weave and fell down alongside her face. Around her neck she wore their mother’s emerald choker while the matching studs twinkled in her ears. A sly smile played around Anna’s lips, while her eyes dared Amelia.

  “Hi Raphael,” Anna said.

  His jaw worked, at a loss for words he could only gawk. The mythical creature approaching him took centre stage in his mind.

  “Raphael.” Amelia cried out. His grip on her wrist mangled her bones and she struggled
to break free.

  Raphael shook off the irritating hand pulling his sleeve. Why was the wench trying to distract him from this wondrous creature? He let go of his hold on Amelia to step closer to the fairy floating towards him.

  “Raphael,” Amelia shouted. “You’re with me, remember?”

  Raphael couldn’t imagine why he’d chose this … this lamia over that divine creature. If he could get her to like him, he’d give her the world and all that’s in it. “Yes,” he said. But not for much longer. “But I must make sure Anna has a good time too. Then he called out to Anna, “Hello, little sis. Ready to go to the ball and meet your Prince Charming?”

  Anna blushed but looked him straight in the face. “Do you think he’d notice me?”

  Raphael’s laugh boomed. “Only a dead man wouldn’t,” he said. “Now if you’ll do me the honour.” And he offered her his arm.

  “Raphael!” Amelia said again. “What about—“

  “What,” he cut her off. Then glared at Amelia. “is the matter with you? Are you so insanely jealous of your little sister that you would deny her a night of fun? She’s coming and if you object, you can stay home.” He’d rather she did anyway.

  Amelia’s mouth worked to get the words out which eluded her. What was the matter with him? Her writing should bind him to her and only her. “Wait a moment, I’ll be right back.” She raced up the stairs to her room, unlocked her desk and took out her diary. Leafing through it she checked if all her writing was still the same she’d done it the day she saw him first. What has Anna done? Then Amelia quickly wrote in her diary. A mere three words, but they should suffice. Content things would work out fine she went back downstairs.

  “Glad you remembered we were waiting for you,” Raphael sneered. He walked Anna to the car. Amelia had no choice but to follow or stay and spend New Year’s Eve at home, alone. Like she’d intended for Anna to.

  #

  Stood at the doorstep of Uriel’s house Amelia looked down. Inside, barely visible, tucked in the crease between sill and floor, grains of salt traced a line along the opening of the door. There could be only one reason for salt to be used that way. Amelia hesitated going in. She wondered …