Never An Angel

Eighth

     "I have an interview today."

     Magdalen bobbed her head, eyes on her lunch plate. She was standing at the kitchen island and picking pieces of sausage out of her omelette. "Okay."

     "That's it? 'Okay'?"

     "Good luck."

     Petra sighed but grabbed Magdalen's face and kissed it. "I'll be back later."

     Again, Magdalen bobbed her head, wiping her cheek. She consumed all the sausage she had plucked from her omelette then tossed the rest to Olive. The sound of the garage door opening then closing rumbled the house, but she waited a little bit to be sure that Petra was truly well and gone. When she was alone she closed all the blinds and shut all the curtains. Then she stripped off her shirt and released her wings, sighing in relief. Ever since that morning in Murello's basement, the urge for her to be free was incessant, and it gave her the chills.

     Olive sniffed curiously at the edge of one of her wings, and she flicked him with it. He jumped back and wagged his tail as though he were ready to play. She flapped halfheartedly because of the limited space she had, causing a hard wind to lift Olive's ears and flip them inside out. He sneezed but appeared happy about it.

     Relaxed, Magdalen kept her wings out as she walked throughout the house, doing this or that chore with a sense of calm. She hardly cared that Olive sniffed or licked her wings wherever he could reach. In a way, she liked it. It had been some time since her wings felt any sensation at all. She wished that she could have someone rub them for her, caress them, perhaps kiss them. They were sensitive and it gave her immense pleasure to have them tended to.

     Fantasizing about having a woman fondle her wings, she hardly noticed when the doorbell rang. Her wings shivered and snapped close to her back when she realized Olive was barking crazily by the front door. She looked through the peephole and was glad to find that it was only the delivery man with a rather tall package. She hid her wings, slipped on her shirt, then pushed Olive back before opening the door. She thanked the delivery man then dragged the package inside to open it. She stripped off her shirt then released her wings as she opened it, and they twitched as she found the doggie door that she had ordered some days earlier. It was already put together and ready to go, so she hauled it to the sliding back door and inserted it per the instructions. Thankfully it fit perfectly. She opened the part where Olive was supposed to be able to fit and flicked it curiously. Olive padded close to sniff, and, uncaring, she pushed him through it. He ended up outside, confused, but was otherwise okay. He poked his head through to be inside and looked around with awe. Magdalen stepped back to see what he would do.

     He did nothing for a moment, then pushed his front paws through so he was half in, half out. One of his back legs lifted and twitched. He slid inside like a worm, his whole front body flat on the floor, and his eyes bugged out as his back legs flopped inside. But eventually he was all back inside again and he stood up with courage. Then he zoomed back out and ran in circles before zooming back in. He jumped through the doggie door like a lightning bolt, going back and forth with this new discovery. Magdalen shook her head and let him be so he could get used to it.

     She cleaned up the packaging the doggie door had come in then went to use the bathroom. But she heard a soft knock at the door just as she lifted a foot to go upstairs. She turned, suspicious, and heard the same knock again. Her wings fluttered as she checked through the peephole.

     "Fuck," she growled, opening the door a crack. Kist was standing on her doorstep, hunched over, shirt torn, blood smeared on his hands and face. She eyed him then opened the door a few more inches. "I'm guessing this is why I haven't seen you around lately."