Nathaniel

  Harrowing.
 It was the only word he could use to describe what was happening to him as he wandered through the desolate streets of Mexico City.
 Never had he seen such scum, such deterioration.
 It had been two centuries since he had stepped foot on earthly soil and it seemed impossible that the world had advanced and fallen behind simultaneously.
 There were so many people, a cesspool of leering smiles, reeking of debauchery.
 Nathaniel had been certain that he would never long for the serenity and cleanliness of heaven’s gold paved streets, when he had longed to wander the earthly avenues below for so long.
 How am I ever to find Cassiel in such a scenario? He wondered woefully, but no answer came from above.
 It had been two weeks and he knew he was closer than he had been, but still, he could not sense his stepbrother among the commotion.
 Nathaniel’s senses were overloaded, but he dared not rest.
 He needed to know what Cassiel was up to on earth again.
 For centuries he has been marinating in revenge. How far will he go? What will he do?
 Nathaniel knew the man with whom he had once roamed the Georgian villages of England was no longer.
 Gone would be the meek, mild mannered boy who had sought his approval at every turn, following his father’s death. When Cass’ father had died suddenly, his mother had latched onto Nathaniel’s widower father, offering him the services of a wife (in all ways) in order to support her and her son. Cass had only been two years old at the time, so he grew up feeling that Nathaniel was a true brother to him. He never stopped trying to impress his stepbrother, or gain his acceptance, in spite of how Nathaniel had ignored him completely. Or worse.
 Nathaniel could only imagine what kind of man lay in his place now.
 It seemed uncouth that the angels would send him back to Earth without assistance, knowing what Cassiel was capable of.
 Or what they believed they knew.
 What they truly know is my own fury. They know little of my stepbrother.
 In retrospect, Nathaniel felt he had done his brother a great favor by having him banished to the underworld. The tediousness of Heaven was exhausting after all.
 There was no excitement, no thrill.
 Immediately, Nathaniel silenced his unholy thoughts.
 The alternative was much, much worse, he knew.
 It was why he had blamed the murder on his brother, after all.
 And the fool had accepted his fate, without any furious denials.
 But when Cass fell, Nathaniel had felt a stabbing in his heart so ferocious, he was brought to his knees. The look in his brother’s eyes screamed of the betrayal, and it had haunted the older brother for hundreds of years.
 And now Cassiel was back.
 In a way, Nathaniel had anticipated the day, knowing that the underworld would either harden or break the loving Cassiel.
 Before their deaths, Cassiel had been a moderately educated carpenter with a gentle way and quiet manner.
 Nathaniel, on the other hand, had been a Lothario, a smooth-talking charmer, with too little regard for others and even less for himself.
 He had died at the hands of a lover’s jealous husband at only twenty-seven years of age, while influenza had claimed his stepbrother Cassiel at twenty-one.
 At least I died in the throes of pleasure, he often thought, remembering his final climax before the knife had cleanly cut across his throat.
 He had never seen it coming.
 No one had been more shocked than him when he had arrived at the pearly gates, St. Peter shaking his head ruefully.
 “Oh, praise God!” Nathaniel sighed when he realized he was not in the pits of Hell, repenting for his sins.
 I knew it! He scoffed silently. There is no Hell. There is likely no God!
 “There must be some mistake,” the guardian announced, peering at the roster through bespectacled eyes. “You have lived your life as an unworthy soul who thinks little of others, and a lot for yourself. You should be cast into at least the fourth circle of Hell.”
 The smugness which Nathaniel had initially felt faded away and he stared at St. Peter.
 “No!” he insisted. “There is no mistake! I may have made poor choices, but my heart is good!”
 St. Peter snorted and eyed him.
 “I see nothing but your debaucherous ways,” he retorted. “But I also see you have a bonding referral. I have no choice but to grant you access – for now.”
 The relief which Nathaniel felt was immeasurable.
 “Thank you!” he gasped, reaching to embrace the sentry, but St. Peter stepped back, shaking his head.
 “Please,” he said, holding up his hand in disgust. “Do not touch me. Your sin may be catching.”
 Nathaniel’s brow furrowed.
 “But this is Heaven. Don’t you have to treat me with respect?” he replied in confusion. 
   “Yes, it is Heaven, Nathaniel,” St. Peter said with a long drawn out sigh. “You must leave all your sin here at the gates, or suffer the consequences.”
 Nathaniel stared at him, unsure of how to respond.
 “And if I do not?” he asked, cautiously. “Then what?”
 “You will be banished into the Seventh Circle for eternity.”
   It sounded unbearably hot to his ears.
 “You have one single chance to prove yourself worthy here, whereas others are often forgiven in Heaven. Should you upset the harmony of our lives here, Nathaniel, you will be cast out forever. One. Single. Chance. Do you understand?”
 Nathaniel clenched his teeth together, his fists closing at his side like a defiant child.
 “I suppose I do,” he retorted.
 “Anger is a sin, Nathaniel,” St. Peter pointed out. “I suggest you leave that here also.”
 It was then that the self-centered man first learned to mask his true feelings.
 “You may enter,” St. Peter sighed, as if permitting such an action was causing him great grief.
 Nathaniel paused, glancing back at him.
 “Was it my father who recommended me?” he asked.
 St. Peter burst into peals of laughter, staring at him haughtily. Tears formed in his eyes as if the words were simply hysterical.
 “Oh goodness no!” he chortled. “Your father is in the Fifth Circle. He was a true sinner. The apple does not stray far from the branch, now does it? No, Nathaniel, it was your brother. He believes you can be saved, but we have our doubts.”
 “Edward?” Nathaniel gasped. “But he was just a boy when he died!”
 St. Peter stared at him as if he was slow.
 “No!” he snapped, shaking his head. “Edward does not recall who you are. He was but three years of age when he perished. You truly don’t know who has sacrificed this for you?”
 Nathaniel ignored the slight, his eyes growing wide as he realized of whom the angel spoke.
 “Cass.”
 “Yes. It was Cassiel. Do not disappoint him. For him to bring you here, he has agreed to a probation of one hundred years, during which time he can be judged for what you do. Trust me, I was against this. For I am certain you will be the cause of us losing a very worthy soul.”
 St. Peter glared at him and for the first time, Nathaniel felt a hot flush of shame.
 I cannot believe Cass would do such a thing for me. I have never given him reason to love me - or even like me.
 As if reading his thoughts, the guardian of the gate’s scowl deepened, and he waved his hand dismissively.
 “Now if you would please be gone from my sight, I have more souls to process today – all of them worthier than you. They do not deserve to be kept waiting.”

__________________________

 “Hola, gringo. Quiere pissar?”
 Nath jolted out of his reverie as a young woman touched his arm. He stared at a face that had likely been stunning at one time, but now however, it looked beaten down. The prostitute was past her prime, but still attempting to get a few more miles out of her tired and well used body.
 “Habla espanol?” she asked suggestively, and he nodded. Her beam widened, and Nathaniel wondered if he could make this happen.
 “Quiere pissar conmigo?” she asked again, and Nathaniel nodded, licking his lips.
 He definitely did want to plow her. In two hundred years, he had only had his own hand during hidden, stolen moments in which he had always feared he was being watched.
 “Forty bucks,” she told him, trying to steer him toward an alleyway. But Nathaniel stopped in his tracks, for once analyzing the repercussions of giving in to his baser desires.
 He knew that whatever occurred on earth could not be held against him in heaven later, but that did not mean he was not being watched carefully.
 It took me a hundred years of pretending to be someone I am not, before they trusted me at all, over their beloved Cassiel. I cannot risk ruining their perception of me now.
 How uncertain his existence had become, how unfair.
 Even in the kingdom of heaven, he was not free, not able to have reckless intercourse with whomever he desired.
 “You may indulge in the act of fornication only in the name of love,” Michael had explained. “But never in the name of lust.”
 The idea of claiming one angel for eternity seemed infinitely boring and instead of falling into an even worse hell, Nathaniel had remained celibate, becoming ever more ambidextrous with the Palm Sisters.
 And increasingly frustrated.
 It was one of the reasons Michele had died.
 The stress had become too much.
 Heaven is my own private hell, he thought bitterly. How cruel a joke is that?
 Nathaniel shrugged his arm free of the clingy prostitue.
 “I am looking for my friend,” he told her in Spanish. “Can you help me find him?”
 The smile faded from her face and she sneered slightly.
 “No,” she replied angrily, spinning to leave.
 “I can pay you,” he called after her and she paused.
 “It will cost you one hundred,” she told him. “More if I have to lose business.”
 He nodded eagerly, reaching into the pocket of his blue pants to retrieve the fistful of cash he had in its depth.
   “I only require your assistance,” he assured her.
 If I keep her around long enough, I can bed her under the guise of romance, he thought happily.
 The erection in his pants was rubbing against the fabric and as he stared at her ample breasts, Nathaniel was sure he was going to pop a hole through his pants.
 “Como te llamas?” she asked, leading the way through the labyrinth of the city.
 “Nathaniel. Or Nath. ”
 “Soy Mari.”
 He did not care about her name.
 The only thing he wanted from the prostitute was what was between her legs.