Color of Angels' Souls Read Online Free PDF Page B

out front: Felicity Maternity Hospital. The blue aura emanating from the building smelled absolutely delicious. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to give it a try. Flint and Tetisheri had told him he could eat the white and blue Mists.
    â€œMight as well give it a try—after all, it can’t kill me. Hardy har har! What a funny guy!”
    He had to walk up a few steps to reach the Mist pouring out of the walls before it quickly rose into the sky. He stuck out his hand without thinking and tried to grab some of the Mist, as if were some sort of blue cotton candy. But it didn’t work. It didn’t look as if any of the other Angels were having any problems. Even the youngest were able to get their hands on the stuff, but not him.
    Oh well, if he couldn’t grab the Mist with his hands, he would just have to try and swallow it right out of the air. He stuck out his neck until his mouth touched the Mist, gingerly stuck out his tongue to bite off a piece, and let it melt in his mouth.
    Whew! It had work—
    The ecstasy that overcame him was so powerful that it knocked him to the ground, so intense that his entire world was turned upside down as the most perfect and pure feelings of pleasure flooded through him. An entire universe was contained in that little piece of blue Mist: not only feelings of joy, but also the pride you feel after your first big victory, when you get the best grade in the class, win the big race, overcome the biggest obstacle. The pride you feel when, overcome by emotion, you hold your firstborn in your arms and cry. It was the purest feeling of accomplishment, as if you’d truly found your place in the world, and were loved, admired, and respected by everyone. That one bite was a concentration of glory, eternity, and perfection, all rolled up in a cocoon of happiness.
    Then his brain began trying to figure out all the different tastes that were exploding inside his mouth. They were everything he loved. The taste of prime rib, still steaming after you pull it out of a wood oven; a hotdog from Sam’s, the best in Manhattan, as his teeth pierced the tight skin and the flavorful juices burst into his mouth, each mouthful heaven on Earth; popcorn dripping with butter and hot caramel; custard ice cream so smooth that it didn’t simply melt in your mouth, but flowed over your taste buds until they shivered with the pleasure; whipped cream lopped on top of the ripest, sweetest strawberries; a juicy peach turned gold by the warm generous sun; a drink from a deep, full-bodied wine with hints of vanilla, blackberries, and currents that inundates the palate …
    Tears were streaming down Jeremy’s cheeks but he didn’t even realize it. For a brief instant, he lost complete control, capable of anything to keep from losing the wonderful sensations. He hungrily grasped at a second piece of Mist, and was overcome with the same feelings of ecstasy, just as powerful, just as heady. He could no longer resist, and began stuffing one handful after another into his mouth, until finally, he felt strangely full.
    If he hadn’t been murdered, if he hadn’t had such a tragic death, Jeremy would have become another one of the Angels he could see dancing up in the air, blind to everything except their pleasure, freed for all of eternity from fear, frustration, and guilt, living only for joy and pleasure.
    Living in paradise.
    Then a troubling thought crept into his mind, like a dark cloud in a perfect blue sky: The Mist was a drug—even worse than a drug, because if Jeremy didn’t eat it he would die a second time, and disappear. He had no choice but to use it. But he had never been addicted to anything. No drugs or alcohol, not even cigarettes or coffee … well, yeah, he might have been slightly addicted to Sam’s hotdogs and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, but that was about it. He didn’t want to be a slave to anything, and certainly not to his own