An Angel of Death Robbed Me of My Angel of Mercy!

“Uncle, why do you treat me thus when you have the power to take away my suffering?”

Tears streamed down Nicholas Sange’s face as he looked into the eyes of his darling niece, Angelica. Her eyes still shined with the light of hope, which he longed for himself.

The smell of the disease and death deep in her body rose to affront to his unusually sensitive nostrils.

“Is there anything I can get you, my dear Angelica. You were named well, my angel of mercy.”

It took everything she had to turn her head slightly to look into his ancient eyes with lifetimes of experience. He reached out and grabbed her hands. She did not feel the coldness of his touch.

“Uncle Nick, you know what you can give me, but yet you refuse.”

Nicholas released her hand then slowly walked over to the hospital window to stare into the night. In the distance, street lights, cars passing, distant voices distracted him as he willed the temptation to subside.

He returned to her bedside. Guilt rose again while he watched Angelica — his last living relative — fading away before his eyes.

Once a regal beauty of great intelligence and kindness, her flaming red hair, crystal blue eyes, could capture the hearts of kings. Now thirty years old, her once flawless body emaciated and racked with pain. Only days away, the Grim Reaper awaited his visit.

“Dear, I have explained to you why I resist giving into your desire. This curse is greater than even I can bear. The Devil could not accurse you more. This existence comes with consequences.

The pleading in her eyes overwhelmed him.

Many accused Nicholas Sange of being a cruel monster. One spot within his heart, compassion still resided. His love for his Angelica and he was about to lose her. Angelica came to live with him when she was orphaned. She saw the man beyond the monster. Her unconditional kindness toward him melted his brutality.

Nicholas reminisced of a small girl throwing her arms around his neck and telling him she loved him.

“I must go. I will ponder your request then return tomorrow night with my final answer.”

Unaffected by the cold air that rushed him as the automatic doors opened, Nicholas walked out into the night. Calculating his options, he vacillated, “She is pure of heart. If the darkness overtakes her, I will never forgive myself.”

With a heavy sigh, Nicholas conceded, “ Yet, her light shines too bright. She will not succumb to the darkness with which I struggle. Death and I are old acquaintances. I sense four days left in her. I will give her what she requests on my return tomorrow night.”

Awakened by the night’s call, Nicholas rose from his deep slumber. Deep cracks formed with the smile across his face. “She will be pleased with my decision. She is an adult. The choice is hers.”

Nicholas rose and washed before he left the manor. “Sylvius, prepare a homecoming for Miss Angelica. She will join us here tonight. Sylvius, have I told you you serve us well. I count you as one of my loyalist of friends. Thank you.”

The aged man, shocked by Nicholas’s rare joviality, nodded.

The moment Nicholas entered the hospital, he sensed something amiss. He ran to the elevator, which was stuck on the eighth floor. “This will take too long.” Taking the stairwell two and three steps at a time, he flew up the nine flights to Angelica’s room.

Angelica and her belongings were gone. A cleaning woman mopped the floors. The strong odor of disinfectant assaulted Nicholas’s refined sense of smell. He put both hands to his head and screamed, “WHERE IS SHE?”

Startled, The cleaning lady jumped back, “Sir, I just clean the place.” Nicholas noted her name on her nametag — Melba. He took a deep breath then spoke in a softer tone, “Melba, do you know what happened to the young lady who was in this room?”

The force of will from his eyes compelled Melba to share her long-held secrets.

Melba lowered her eyes, “She has passed.”

Nicholas sensed that Melba wanted to tell him more, “What happened to her?”

She looked around to ensure they were alone, “Sir, I have worked here for twenty years now. I could get fired for telling you this.”

Looking down for a moment, Melba returned her gaze upon Nicholas, “Look, I have no medical training. I am invisible to most of these people, and I overhear things, mostly rumors; that’s all.”

Nicholas nodded for her to continue.

Melba paused to swallow, “Two years ago, Doctor Alexander Moarte, started his residency on night shifts.” Over the last two years, several terminal patients died suddenly. Doctor Moarte was always the only one present at the time of death. No one ever questioned their death in any of the six previous cases.”

Nick crossed his arms and placed his hand under his chin, “Thank you, Miss Melba. You have been most helpful. Who do I need to see to view her body?”

Eugene Gilman, the Funeral Director at Sunnyside Funeral Home, spoke to Bill, the mortician assigned to prepare Angelica Sange’s remains. “Mr. Sange is a very wealthy man. Who also said to spare no expense on the funeral arrangements. BUT He has one condition. He must see the body alone for about ten minutes before you start any preparations.” Bill was currently embalming another client. He took a bite out of his stale baloney sandwich and in between chews responded. “No. Problem. Mister Gilman.”

Eugene Gilman pointed at a room down the hall, “The mortuary is right this way, Mister Sange. Now you do agree to the Promethean coffin for $25,000. I believe it is perfect for your niece.” Nicholas paused and silently looked at Gilman. Nicholas’s eyes turned amber. Eugene backed away, “Maybe it would be better to discuss all the details and formalities later.”

They approached a dark wood stained door with gold letters that read, Private, Authorized Personnel Only. Eugene reached to open the door. Nicholas put out his arm to stop him, “Remember our agreement. I must do this alone. This time is sacred to me.” Nicholas then disappeared behind the door.

With mastery and understanding of human nature, Nicholas engineered his admittance to the same room in which Angelica died. Also, He ensured he was under the care of dear Doctor Moarte. Nicholas could smell death on the doctor when he entered the room. With ease, Nicholas faked a comatose state.

“Who have we here?” The doctor picked up the chart and thumbed through the pages. “Nicholas D. Sange. Age 772? DOB October 31, 1248? The INCOMPETENCE! I will have this corrected immediately. Says here the old buzzard suffered a massive heart attack and is in a coma. Brain recovery is highly improbable. The hospital awaits your euthanasia instructions from your legal representatives. Later on, this evening, when things die down, I will take care of you.”

After the doctor left the room, Nicholas sat up and grabbed his chart to verify the signature of the doctor. Signed in the most beautiful handwriting — Alexander D. Moarte. “This guy defies the stereotypes of doctors having poor penmanship. His large, flamboyant writing most definitely reveals psychopathy and extreme narcissism.

I look forward to your return later. This Angel of Death does not realize it yet, but he has met more than his match.”

Alexander Moarte slowly opened his eyes. The red and purple lighting gave an eery glow off the coal dust-stained brick. “I am parched.” He shook his head repeatedly to shake off the drug-induced grogginess. While trying to sit up, He realized heavy chains pinned him to a stainless steel operating table. The chain entwined his naked body like an Anaconda. He could barely lift his head or wriggle his hands and feet.

Outside of Alexander’s view, he heard a laugh and, “Welcome to the land of the living.”

Like a child having a tantrum — to no avail — Moarte thrashed against the heavy galvanized steel chains. “Who the hell do you think you are? My father is the president of Sentry Hospital Group. He is a very wealthy and influential man. You will pay dearly.”

“Spare your breath. It may be your last.” Nicholas stepped from the shadows enough for Moarte to see his dark silhouette. “Alexander, you robbed me of the dearest thing in my dark existence. Unknowingly, You have released the monster.”

Moarte shook his head, “What are you talking about?”

“The woman.”

“Which woman?”

“Let me jog your memory.” Nicholas reached out of the shadows and slapped Moarte hard across the face. Tears immediately rolled down his cheeks. The blow jolted him so hard his ears rang, and the burning sting lingered.

Alexander cried, “I’m still not sure who you are talking about.”

A growl rolled out of Nicholas, “ANGELICA SANGE, my niece, and don’t pretend that you were only showing her mercy. With your god complex, this is not about mercy but you controlling one’s life or death. You sadistic beast.”

Alexander shook his head, “I still don’t know what you are talking about.”

Nicholas turned on a surgical lamp for Moarte to see him. Before Moarte eyes, Nicholas’s visage changed to reveal his true nature. Fangs extended out of his upper gums, and his eyes turned to an amber glow, his face distorted into a demonic quality. “I am giving you one last chance to confess to the murder of Angelica Sange, or so help me. I will tear you from limb to limb.”

“Okay, okay, I injected her with an air bubble to cause an embolism. She was doomed to die anyway. I put her out of her misery.”

“Moarte, where did you inject it?”

Moarte moaned, “I entered the needle into her right tear duct.”

Nicholas reached down, grabbed the chains around Alexander Moarte then pulled him up inches away from his face. Moarte felt suffocated from the odor of death, reeking from Nicholas’s breath and the tightening of the chains around him. Nicholas huffed to regain control over his impulse to kill Moarte right then. He let Moarte fall to the table and turned his back to him.

“My beloved Angelica would demand I show even her murderer mercy. I am going to give you options that you did not give her. I will let you live, but you must turn yourself over to the authorities and confess your crimes.”

A faint grin formed on Moarte’s face, “What is my other option?”

Nicholas turned around to face Moarte. A smile broadened on Nicholas’s face. “I turn you into the creature that I am.”

A look of confusion formed across Alexander’s face, “Why would you give me — the Angel of Death — eternal life?

Wrinkles formed across Nicholas’s forehead as he formulated his answer, “Honestly, this is an eternal existence governed by an unquenchable thirst. One must subdue one’s conscience to quench the thirst. It took me years to control my feeding without killing my victims. Fortunately, Now I own blood banks and drink mainly from the supply.”

Alexander begged, “Give me eternal life.”

A broad smile formed across Nicholas’s face, “As you wish.” Nicholas pounced on him, ripped into his throat, and drank deeply from Alexander’s life force. As Moarte neared death, Nicholas tore into his wrist and fed Alexander his ancient tainted blood. His throat burned as the liquid flowed down into his stomach. The jolt of transformation knocked him unconscious.

Moarte repeatedly dreamed of the same nightmare. A red hot pit of blood swallowed him and pulled him under like quicksand.

Alexander awakened to the unquenchable hunger crying from deep within. He opened his eyes to see the stars splattered across the black void. “Where am I? Why am I chained in this box?”

Nicholas peered over the top of Alexander. “You are on a boat several hundred miles out to sea. I honored your request. Alexander, YOU are devoid of all feelings and compassion for anyone but yourself. I could never release you to prey on humanity.”

Closing the lid, Nicholas tightly wound chains around the outside of Alexander’s coffin. Thick darkness enveloped Alexander. He screamed, “Please let me go.”

Nicholas pushed to the coffin off the boat into the ocean.

Vindicated, Nicholas watched as Alexander’s living tomb sunk into the murky dark. Silvius turned to Nicholas, “Sir, are you sure we put enough lead bars in the bottom of the chest to carry it down two thousand feet? What if treasure hunters find him?”

Nicholas laughed, “I do not intend to leave him there forever. In fifty years or so, I will pull him up then show him mercy by cutting off his head.”