The Book of Doom Read Online Free PDF Page B

angels. You two included.”
    “Well, I’m afraid there’s nobody else,” Gabriel said. He tapped a manicured fingernail against his flawless teeth. It made a sound like footsteps on marble. “Unless...”
    “Unless what?”
    “There is one who may be able to help, although he has nowhere near the strength or experience of Michael.”
    “I don’t need strength or experience, I just need a guide,” Zac shrugged. “Is he an angel?”
    Gabriel shook his head. “No.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “His name? It’s... ah... yes. His name is Angelo.”
    “Angelo?” said Zac flatly. “And he’s not an angel?”
    “No. Yes. Well he’s
half
angel. But he’s the closest thing to a human that we have.”
    Zac jumped up and pulled the drawstring of the closest blinds. They lifted, letting a flood of sunlight into the room. He gestured at the busy city-centre plaza beyond the glass, and the hundreds of people who milled about there, all happily going about their business.
    “Humans,” Zac said. “Dead ones, maybe, but humans. What about one of them?”
    “Send a
guest
?” Gabriel gasped, his eyes widening. “We couldn’t possibly do that. Think of the paperwork. No,” he said, shaking his head. “It is Angelo, or it is Michael. The choice, Zac Corgan, is yours.”
    “Angelo, then,” said Zac. It wasn’t a difficult decision. He’d met Michael less than an hour ago, but already he wanted to stay as far away from him as possible.
    “Very good,” said Gabriel. “Michael, would you be so kind as to fetch young Angelo for me?”
    Michael nodded, shot a final glare at Zac, then pulled open the door. A look of exaggerated surprise crossed his face. “Oh, now would you look at that,” he said. “What are the chances?”
    He let the door open all the way. Gabriel looked past the other archangel and then he too reacted with shock. “Angelo? Just walking past at that very moment! What a stroke of good fortune.”
    Michael stepped aside. Zac saw the figure framed in the doorway.
    “Oh, come on,” he sighed as Angelo shuffled into the room. “You have
got
to be kidding me.”

T WAS THE T-shirt the boy was wearing that had first caught Zac’s eye. It was white, with yellow print on the front in the style of the
Baywatch
logo. The text read:
     
    M Y L IFEGUARD W ALKS ON W ATER
    And then, underneath, for those struggling to work it out:
    (B ECAUSE H E’S J ESUS )
    The rest of Angelo wasn’t much more promising, either. He was a good fifteen to twenty centimetres shorter than Zac, and about half the width across the shoulders. The T-shirt hung loosely from his skinny frame, reaching down almost to his knees.
    The knees themselves were on full display, knobbly and ever-so-slightly grass-stained. His legs were also bare, and Zac really hoped the boy was wearing some kind of shorts beneath the trailing shirt.
    On his feet, Angelo wore flip-flops with I L OVE M AJORCA printed in jolly lettering across the plastic strap. They were the most violent shade of fluorescent green Zac had ever laid eyes on.
    Zac’s gaze went from the feet to Angelo’s face. The boy looked young – eleven or twelve, at a guess – with eyes that seemed cartoonishly large. His hair was blond, like the angels’, but it was a dirty, brownish blond, cut into an uneven bowl shape round his head.
    Angelo smiled nervously. “Good King Wenceslas walks into a pizza shop,” he said. His voice was wobbly and unbalanced, as if he were still learning how to use it.
    “What?”
    “It’s a joke,” Angelo explained. “Good King Wenceslas walks into a pizza shop, and the assistant asks, ‘How do you want your pizza?’ And Good King Wenceslas says, ‘Deep pan, crisp and even.’”
    The boy’s huge eyes blinked several times. He watched Zac, waiting for a reaction.
    “You know? The song,” he added. He began to sing. “
Good King Wenceslas looked out...
”
    Zac nodded. “Yeah.”
    “Deep pan, crisp and even.”
    “Yeah.”
    There was