Tea with an Angel

Baal was where the map said he would be. When I rang the doorbell, he opened the door with a cup of tea in his hand. The steam made arcane patterns in the air. Baal wore glasses and a cardigan that made him look like a retired professor instead of an angel. Maybe he had been a professor for a time. The angels all had to make a living since God had abandoned them to the mortal world.

“I thought you guys would have stopped answering the door by now,” I said. “Given what usually happens when I come knocking in the night.”

Baal studied me for a moment, then sipped his tea. “Would it have made a difference?” he asked. “Could I simply have fled out the back once you’d found me?”

“Probably not,” I said, which was a lie. I wasn’t exactly mortal, sure, but that didn’t mean I could be in two places at once. There’d been more than one angel who had slipped out the back door on me before. I didn’t like to advertise that fact though. It made them think I was soft.

“So,” he said, and blew the steam from his tea.

“Yes,” I said, keeping an eye on the symbols that danced in the air between us.

“I don’t suppose we could talk about this like civilized beings,” he said.

“That’s a laugh to call yourself civilized after what you did at Gomorrah,” I said.

“I was under orders,” Baal said, frowning.

“I’ve heard that one before,” I said.

“Very well,” he said, “why don’t you just tell me what I can give you to make you go away?”

“Not this time,” I said. “Not unless you know how to stop a play from killing people.”

Baal looked up and down the street, but it was empty of anyone who could save him. “Which play?” he asked.

“How many plays are there that can kill people?” I asked.

“You’d be surprised.” He turned and walked down the hallway of his home. “I imagine you’re going to come in one way or another,” he said over his shoulder.

I took that as an invitation and followed him. I made sure to close the door behind me an