Page 2 of Lust
“If you die like this,”the voice continued,“you will be condemned.”
Oh, great. Now her subconscious was lecturing her that self-harm was a sin and she would go to Hell. Some guilt from her childhood never went away. “I don’t believe in any of that.” Mercy crept onto the side of the road, pulling herself away from the rising wind. Her soul was already numb. Her face didn’t need to be, too. “Besides, what’s so bad about Hell? I bet some cool people end up there.” Party and a half. Did she have to bring her own beer, though?
As if to remind her that it was there, the ball of white light flashed her right in the face.“Who said anything about Hell? I’m talking about something much worse.”
“Well. What a compelling argument.” Mercy teetered toward the side of death. If she survived this –if –she would probably regret it. That’s what she heard bridge-jump survivors say, anyway. A part of her always suspected that those interviews were either fake, or the men and women were paid to say that they had regrets. Did logic tell her that? Of course not. Did her negative emotions, which had been compounding for many years, whisper those dark thoughts into her ear every time she saw someone appear on the evening news? Obviously. See, Mercy subconsciously knew this about herself, too. Deep down, she admitted that her brash actions would not save her soul. She didn’t care about her soul. She cared about ending the pain. Exiting her role in this dark, lonely world.
Nobody would miss her. Those at work or in her neighborhood who might gasp and shed a tear on her behalf would get over it soon enough. Her house would be sold, either to a developer ready to tear it down, or to some couple looking to upgrade from their starter home. She didn’t own pets. Her job was far from specialized. Middle-management for a corporate office. Whooppee-fucking-doo. Maybe Cari, a number cruncher from the finance department, could finally get a big promotion with Mercy out of her corner office.And before anyone gets too excited, there are four corner offices on that floor, and mine is the smallest.
What did counting tonight the last night of her life really mean? To anyone?
Her foot slipped off the edge.
“Oof!”
What was that? Was it her own voice? What was that on hertorso?Arms? A pair of arms wrapping around her?
The force of her pulling back against gravity was enough to snap open Mercy’s eyes. The river fell away from her as she began to – float?fly? –across rocks and hills.What in the fucking fuck…This wasn’t happening. This was a dream.It has to be. There is no other explanation.Mercy Devereux had experienced her fair-share of flying-based dreams. The other night she had imagined herself “bouncing” against the earth, each point of impact sending her farther and farther into the air, until all she saw were hot-air balloons and endless fields of grain miles below her flying body. Was this really so different? Just because a pair of arms had encircled themselves around her and flown her away from the fray didn’t mean shit.
She was dreaming. That’s why Mercy was crying as she watched the suburbs of her humble city light up beneath her and a jet plane tear across the sky above her.
The moon sure was lovely that night.
So was the sheen of white light shimmering before her. No, all around her. A curtain of ivory luminescence protected her against the high cold winds threatening to tear her apart. She could still see beyond the glistening, clear crystals, but she didn’t dare touch them. Not with her arms dangling beneath her, and her legs kicking at the air behind her. Every time she attempted to look up and catch her rescuer, all she saw was hotter, whiter light.
Her guardian angel blinded her from the truth. All Mercy could do was trust that, should she fall, it would still be the swift death she had been searching for earlier.
Slowly, they began their descent. Mercy almost recognized the clearing they flew toward. Did she know the name? No. She had an inkling it was a state park on the edge of town, but it was too far away from her stomping grounds to appeal to her. Never mind the fact she had long given up on having a life atparks.Who had time for a run or a gathering when she was married to her job?That job kept me sane through my breakup. Now I have no sanity left.
Mercy was unceremoniously dropped on a small hillside sloping toward the vast clearing beneath them. She collapsed into a small pile of flesh and mixed fabrics. All synthetic. All stained by the bits of mud and grass now sliming the side of her business jacket.
Twigs dug into her skin. Mercy spat out a rock after she lifted her head and tossed her long hair aside. Gravity was on her side again, but the bastard attempted to drag her down the hillside. Her ass found an especially slick patch of wet grass and began the ardent slide downward.
“Oh, my goodness!” Hands reappeared, grabbing Mercy by the collar and giving her much-needed leverage. “Easy does it. Don’t move too much. You might hurt yourself.” That voice, though high, was softer than the skin brushing against Mercy’s cheeks.
It took a good minute for Mercy’s eyes to refocus. She found herself in the arms of a woman, although this woman was far fromnormal.Her skin was as pale as the moonlight, icy-white hair tumbling in a torrent of curls that soon covered her beaded gown of silk. Was it silk? Mercy had never beheld anything like it before. The fabric was not made of man. Woven from the stars? Born from her subconscious? Anything was possible when a woman was dreaming.
A dream also explained how this stranger’s frame could be so lithe, yet she held Mercy so securely.
Bile leaped into Mercy’s throat the moment the white light faded and she realized this woman had a pair of large, feathery wings to accompany the Heavenly aura encompassing the entire hillside.Leave it to me to dream about angels at the lowest point of my life.She supposed there were instances of church during her childhood that didn’t completely traumatize her. After a sermon speaking of warriors of God wielding flaming swords and readying for battle with their horrible, terrifying visages of Heavenly wrath, a little girl sometimes retreated into the childlike renditions of androgynous beings and the lambs they carried.
That makes me a lamb. Baa.
“Are you…” Mercy could barely find her voice in the depths of her momentary fears. “Are you an angel?”
Firm fingers dug into Mercy’s back. “No.” Although such a soft voice carried no poison, chills claimed the length of Mercy’s spine. “I told you, darling. I am a deity. I doubt you’ve heard of me, though.”
“Yeah? Fair enough. If you’re not in the Bible, I probably haven’t heard of you.” For the first time since college, Mercy regretted not taking any of those religious studies classes. They might have come in handy now.
“No one has heard of me or my avatars for years.” The so-called deity leaned back, but did not loosen her hold on Mercy. “Perhaps you know the meaning of my name in your language, though. You can call me Acedia.”
“You’re right. I have no idea who you are. Sorry.”
“It is all right.” Acedia placed a hand atop Mercy’s forehead, brushing aside her dirty hair. “I suppose you’re wondering why I stopped you from making such a terrible leap.”
“Does it matter now? You’ve gone and done it.”
“Your cynicism continues to shine without the aid of your other vices. It’s almost like you don’t want my help.Ourhelp.”
