After-Life

Chapter 4. Heavenly Figures

Thet quietly nodded his head in rhythm to the dull beat that could be heard thumping from the nearby arena. If he listened hard enough, he could just about make out Mabel entertaining herself by singing wholly and completely out of tune with the rest of the Dark Omens's fanbase. He grinned to himself; it was good to see a new lease of life being enjoyed. Especially Mab's!

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about the stubborn ex-secretary that had struck a warm note with him. Maybe, it was because she'd been the first in however long to ask for his true name so that she could address him like an equal? Maybe, it was because she'd told him to bugger off when they'd first met? Whatever the reason, Thet couldn't help but feel a slight pang of connection with the young soul.

"You seem happy with yourself tonight, Charon."
The voice cracked like a whip through the night sky. Thet had heard the owner of it approaching but had chosen to ignore the urge to look around. There was nothing worse than feeding the ego of a greater being, especially one who lived for such adoration and praise.
"Evening Azrael. What brings you here – of all places?" Thet greeted the angelic gatekeeper with a neutral coolness. It wasn't that he disliked the angel, far from it. It was more so that the angel did very little to endear himself to those he deemed beneath him in the afterlife.

As Thet had reviewed Mab's life before greeting her, he'd observed how she had withheld from snapping at multiple personalities in her workplace, owing to their ignorance of the more administrative elements of her professional role. She, like Thet, had provided a service that she was proud of. It wasn't her fault that someone had failed to sign and date a form that could not be approved without such conditions being met – much like in Thet's role. It wasn't his fault that some souls didn't make it up the pearly steps due to the constant changes in goalposts being advertised by the almighty.

Once upon a time, there had been ten commandments to go by and that had been all one needed to follow to ensure a path to heaven. Nowadays, it seemed that a soul had to dive through hoop after hoop and spend crippling amounts on charities and churches of choice to ensure they even got to meet Azrael face to face! So, it had become custom for the angel to regularly scorn Thet for slacking on the job and not finding the right souls, fit for heaven. While Mabel might have labeled the culprits of her vexations as "bloody academics!" Thet had taken to cussing the "Holier than thou, angels!"

Azrael looked around their setting, unimpressed; "our targets are low again, Charon."
"That's a shame," Thet shrugged, not in the mood to enter a dialogue with the angel.
"I was under the impression I'd be joining you to accompany two souls to heaven, this evening," The angel sniffed; "either I'm early, or..." he cast a callous sideways glance at Thet; "you're dragging your proverbial heels... again!" He smirked smugly.
Thet sighed and made a physical effort to extend his arms and turned about on the spot. With a dry and cutting tone he responded, "I hadn't realised Heaven's numbers were so low, Azrael. I imagine the pressure you're under from your superior is rather tiresome. Especially, if it's resulted in your forgetting that to lift souls to heaven, one needs to extract them from their physical host, and – as you can see – we are somewhat lacking in those right now."
The angel's smirk faltered, fleetingly; "then hurry them along, Charon – we don't have all night."
Thet cocked his head, "don't we? I was under the impression you had nothing else better to do, seeing as you've decided to loiter in this abandoned parking zone, with yours truly."
Azrael wrinkled his perfectly sculpted nose, unimpressed with the chaperone's tone. He opened his mouth to retaliate with a cutting remark but was interrupted by raised voices and staggered footsteps, indicating a struggle.

"How many times are we going to do this dance tonight, Aden?" Echoed the Bristolian accent of Dean the Security Guard's voice, from across the empty parking space. "That's the third time you've somehow gained entry to the venue. Third time you've been caught out, tampering with a girl's drink. Maybe if you were more of a charmer, you wouldn't have to resort to such tactics to win some affection?"
"Gerroff me!" Aden yelled back, as the two men came into view, shoving and lashing out at each other.
Dean shoved Aden down to the ground and stood over him, panting from the exertion of having dragged the drink spiker several streets away from the Dark Omens performance.