Mortal Desire Page 3

  What did he see? Or what did he know that I did not?

  As I turned the door knob to leave the apartment, Albert called over his shoulder once again, ‘Enjoy!’ His shoulders bounced as he chuckled to himself. He could be so annoying!

  A bitterly cold wind swept along the busy roadway while I walked to the Metropolis Mirage. I pulled the collar of my thick coat higher covering my neck, and hence my immortal scent.

  ‘Remember to keep your neck covered when walking in the open…’

  ‘Why Mamma?’

  ‘Because there are some immortals on the Earth who will

  scent your true identification, and seek you out. Not all

  immortals are good Liam. You must remember that!’

  ‘Yes Mamma. I will remember.’

  I lowered my head and focused on the footpath underfoot. The brisk walk to work would be good for the physical body that I occupied.

  I skipped up the steps to the Metropolis Mirage Building and entered the revolving door, then the door immediately on the right that led to the staff quarters.

  Elevator Dukes were busy polishing their black shoes so that the lights reflected off them, shining the brass buttons on their uniforms and doing the obligatory final check for imperfections before donning their attire for work.

  ‘Top of the mornin’ Henry. Gold star for being on time!’ yelled Aidan.

  An immediate cheering and clapping echoed throughout the locker room.

  I looked down and smirked at their energetic cajoling before I entered the code into my locker to start my own morning ritual of preparing myself for the day.

  After checking my black uniform in the mirror, I left for Elevator Thirteen, entered it and rode the elevator up the shaft ensuring that it was in good working order.

  Once it had come to hover on the ground level again, I opened the double doors, stepped out and waited in the elevator foyer in anticipation for the start of the day.

  She was there again—the stunning girl with the red hair.

  I gave her a polite smile and tilted my head towards her.

  ‘It is a beautiful day Miss Flynn,’ I mused, connecting my honey-brown coloured eyes to her green eyes, holding the connection for as long as I could.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, and smiled at me with the shyness of a child. She stood when she saw Mr. McEwan approach. She walked towards him with a spring in her step, her ivory coloured long skirted dress flowing behind her. He looked at her but did not return the beaming smile that she offered him. And when she held out a small gift bag to him with enthusiasm, he held up his hand and looked away in disapproval.

  Miss Flynn frowned. Her shoulders sagged and she dropped her arm by her side and followed him as he walked towards Elevator Thirteen.

  ‘Good morning Mr. McEwan,’ I chirped when he stepped over the threshold.

  He simply nodded at me and stood at the back of the elevator.

  I smiled at Miss Flynn. ‘Which Floor Miss?’ I asked, expecting her to wait for Mr. McEwan to give the answer.

  ‘Floor eight please Henry,’ she answered, and looked at Mr. McEwan for reassurance of her floor choice. I saw him nod ever so slightly.

  ‘And sir?’ I asked, playing along with his game of deception, so as not to upset the client.

  ‘Ah … same,’ he replied looking past me, and at himself in the reflective surface of the elevator wall.

  He stood with his hands in his pockets, pretending he did not know the girl that stood in the elevator with us. He was deceiving himself; the worst type of lie.

  At the sound of the door ping, Mr. McEwan took the parcel from Miss Flynn’s hand and passed it over to me in an aggressive manner.

  ‘For you Henry … enjoy,’ he said in a low monotone voice before he exited the elevator in haste.

  Miss Flynn gasped behind him. I looked into the bag and saw a beautiful silk tie in shades of grey. She would have spent a good portion of time choosing the perfect tie for him. I looked up at Miss Flynn with a look of apology on my face. Her eyes flicked to mine and I saw her tears well. She quickly blinked them away to conceal the hurt that he had just dealt her. She hurried after him with her head held low, like a puppy that had just received a scolding.

  When the elevator doors closed, I breathed deeply, and exhaled with a controlled slowness. My heart broke for her. But unfortunately it was human nature for some to be scum. And that was what Mr. McEwan was—utterly and purely.

  The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened on the tenth floor. Mr. Asher Camden stood waiting with his hands in the pockets of his black suit. He brushed his rough chin with his fingers, leaned forward a little and then stepped into the elevator and nodded to me.

  I nodded back. ‘What is your destination sir?’ I asked, articulating my words fluently.

  ‘Aaah … three please,’ he replied, a little preoccupied. He rummaged through his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. It must have been set to vibrate because I did not hear it announce a call. He looked at the screen and held a business-like facial expression before he put it to his ear. I looked away, ready to tune out of the business lingo that would gush from his mouth like a torrent of water.

  ‘Darling wife, how are you?’ he asked in a cheery voice before his face froze.

  My gaze snapped back towards him. His mouth gaped open before he dropped to his knees on the elevator floor. He clutched his chest and twisted his face up as if in pain. Then he dropped the cell phone down by his side before he placed it back to his ear.

  ‘Yes. Yes. We must talk. It is not what you are thinking … it is not like that … we can work through this. I love you Alice … let me explain …’

  I stopped the elevator. It would not be right to allow others into the lift while Mr. Camden was in the middle of a domestic dispute. He had his pride to maintain, and I would not let him be destroyed by others seeing him in his weakness, although it was tempting to let him suffer under his wrong doings.

  So … his wife has discovered his infidelities …

  He dropped his cell phone to the floor and stared at it, then ran both of his hands through his hair and swallowed hard.

  ‘Mr. Camden … I can help you. What would you like me to do?’ I asked. I remained calm and controlled of the etheric energy field on the elevator.

  Mr. Bellini, a live and emotional morsel is coming to the Establishment. Even more juicy with sauciness …

  Mr. Camden looked up at me. Tears threatened. Emotional pain was etched onto his face; his chin quivered. ‘Help me? How can you help me? You are nothing but a worthless, useless, lowlife Elevator Operator,’ he spat out at me, his words of venom trying to poison me.

  He stood and took one step towards me. His eyes burned his wish of death into me, fuelled by anger in his look, making him as ugly as hell.

  I lifted my hand, removed my white glove and touched his arm. My amnis travelled under his skin to his brain to his amygdala, the centre of anger emotion. Within an instant he stepped back from me and tears fell down his face, all anger gone. ‘Help me Henry,’ he said. His voice was weak. He fell to his knees and clasped his hands together in front of his mouth. ‘I beg of you … please help me …’ His eyes pleaded with me.

  I nodded to him in compassion, and indicated for him to stand. Turning to the shiny brass buttons on the wall, I pressed number thirteen. This pitiful man’s life was about to change, and he wouldn’t remember a thing about his troubles.

  Was it a good thing or bad?

  Whatever it was, it was not my position to judge. I was simply the delivery boy of the Establishment, whoever and whatever they were.

  I led Mr. Camden out of the elevator and knocked on the door of Suite 8.

  Old Mr. Milani, David Milani, opened the door and greeted me with a nod and a knowing smile. He exposed his perfect false teeth while looking over the frames of his dark rimmed square glasses. ‘So good to see you Henry, please come in,’ he croaked. He held up his hand and indicated the way for us to walk.r />
  I looked back at Mr. Camden. His eyes were fixed on the floor. He was the perfect example of a broken man.

  We arrived at a small sound proof office. Mr. Camden and I sat opposite Mr. Milani, who had positioned himself behind his perfectly clean white desk. The fluorescent lighting showed every line and wrinkle on Mr. Milani’s face, and the grey regrowth of his hair. He must have been about seventy-five years old.

  ‘How can I help you today Henry?’ he asked with his pen poised in his hand ready to take notes. He peered over his glasses at the unresponsive man beside me, and then looked back to me and nodded ever so briefly in approval of my delivery.

  ‘Mr. Milani, I would like to introduce Mr. Asher Camden to you. He has found himself in a spot of trouble domestically, and would like some help to sort it out. I have brought him to you because I know of your success in dealing with matters such as these,’ I explained fluidly.

  Mr. Milani closed his eyes before he nodded to me in the affirmative. Then he spoke to Mr. Camden. ‘Haydn, Henry has done you a favour by bringing you here. Our experience in family matters, and our ability to resolve … misunderstandings … disagreements and the like, is second to none. Henry will require your wife’s phone number—I assume it is your wife by the wedding band on your finger, and she shall join us for remediation … yes?’ It was a question and statement in one, worded so that he would not refuse treatment.

  Asher pulled his business card from his wallet and handed it to me. The contact number was on the back of the card. I looked deeply into his eyes and saw his tormented guilty conscience. But was his torment and guilt for what he had done to his wife, or for getting caught?

  I nodded once to him and tucked the card into my uniform pocket. I looked at Mr. Milani and waited for the next instruction that could only come from him.

  ‘Asher, Henry, can I offer you a tea or coffee while you wait?’ he asked.

  That was my cue to leave the office.

  Mr. Camden looked down and shook his head.

  ‘Thank-you for your offer Mr. Milani, but I must get back to work. Perhaps another time I will be able to share coffee with you,’ I replied formally, before I stood and shook his hand.

  I turned to Asher and proffered my hand. ‘I wish you the entire best sir. You are in good hands with Mr. Milani. I shall send for your wife and bring her here to sort this out with you,’ I added in a smooth calm voice.

  Mr. Camden simply nodded at me.

  Reap what you sow Mr. Camden, it all catches up with you in the end …

  Wisdom—I have wisdom. I knew that I already ... but how many more times must I prove it?

  I released the elevator floor lock as soon as I re-entered my pod. With a jolt, I felt the metal rectangular prism rising at speed.

  The doors opened at the thirty-eighth floor—the penthouse, owned by the very rich Mrs. Rossetti. Elevator Thirteen was hers to enjoy alone. Whenever she summoned Elevator Thirteen, an over-riding circuit cut out other floors purely to service Mrs. Rossetti at her beck and call.

  ‘Mrs. Rossetti,’ I called to her in my most endearing voice. I truly liked her. She was sixty-seven, and was the closest person to an Earth grandparent that I would ever get.

  I held my arms out to her, and then took her hands in mine. I looked her up and down and exclaimed, ‘Graziosa e bella. Your beauty is the light of my day. Where are you off to today?’

  She linked her arm through mine as we walked into the elevator, our eyes interconnected without skipping a beat.

  ‘Grazie Mr. O’Connell, my favourite Elevator Operator. I am taking Selena to the dog park for some socializing. She has a boyfriend you know!’

  I patted the well groomed white maltese dog, being careful not to upset the pink bow in its fur atop of its head. ‘Ooh Selena, you must keep your legs crossed you know. Those boy dogs only have one thing on their minds!’

  Mrs. Rossetti burst out in laughter before she held her hand over her mouth, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

  The elevator descended the intestines of the building to the ground floor, where Mrs. Rossetti walked off at a brisk pace in her black fur coat, black long boots and bright pink hat. Anyone would think that she was meeting her boyfriend at the park. Perhaps she was?

  I turned back to the elevator and remembered Mr. Camden. I wondered how he was going, sitting out the long wait pondering his fate when he would meet his enraged wife—which then reminded me to call her so that I could deliver her to floor thirteen also.

  I had prolonged the time in contacting Mrs. Camden on purpose. The longer Mr. Camden had to reflect on his misdoings the better, only in that it would make him sweat thinking about how to explain his infidelity to his wife, I had hoped.

  I pulled Mr. Camden’s business card from my pocket and entered his home phone number into my phone.

  ‘Mrs. Camden. This is Henry O’Connell. I found your husband crumpled in pain earlier today after your conversation with him. I have taken him to a counsellor, who requests your presence to declare your next move with your husband. The situation is in your favour Mrs. Camden. Mr. Camden will agree to any of the conditions that you choose. But do come quickly before his guilt turns to anger, in which case it will be harder to reason and negotiate with him. Come to Elevator Thirteen—I will be waiting for you.’ I ended the connection with her, not giving her a chance to decline the invitation to meet her deceitful husband. Now I would simply wait for her.

  Two customers in one day … Mr. Bellini would have to be pleased with that outcome.

  The next hour went rather slowly with very few clients to join me for a joy ride in my office. I did however get the opportunity to watch people.

  I found them fascinating. Their quirky little mannerisms, their insecurities, the masks that they wore to fool others into thinking they were someone that they were not.

  What did they gain from doing that? And what did they lose?

  How abhorrent could their own self be? And was it self-imposed, or imposed by a need to be accepted by others, or even to protect themselves?

  I recognized Mrs. Alice Camden walking the marble floor to Elevator Thirteen before she introduced herself. Her quick step gave her away; a quick step of urgency that meant that whatever she had to do she wanted over and done with quickly.

  She held her expression in a robotic fashion, pushing the pain of Mr. Camden’s infidelity behind a mask to carefully conceal the bubbling erratic emotions just under the surface of her skin.

  ‘Alice?’ I queried as she approached, choosing not to use her married name to hide her identity from those who loitered about the elevator platforms.

  She simply nodded at me.

  I indicated with my hand to step into the elevator. She stood directly in the middle of the confined space; her demeanour as cold as ice.

  As soon as the doors closed and the elevator started to move, I turned to her. ‘Mr. Milani is the gentleman attending to your husband Mrs. Camden. He is a highly sort after counsellor in situations such as this. I can assure you that you will be very pleased with the outcome that he will offer you.’

  Mrs. Camden did not look at me. She was a woman scorned, and her fury was palpable.

  She followed me in silence to Mr. Milani’s office. Mr. Camden was absent. It was probably for the best. This way, Mr. Milani could speak with Mrs. Camden without the fire that would burn savagely when Mrs. Camden set eyes upon her unfaithful husband.

  ‘Mr. Milani, I would like to introduce Mrs. Alice Camden to you,’ I said in a most formal voice, and gestured appropriately.

  ‘Thank-you Henry. Can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?’ Mr. Milani asked right away. He raised his left eyebrow giving me the cue to leave.

  ‘Thank-you, but no Mr. Milani, I must get back to work. Perhaps another time I will be able to share coffee with you. Elevator Thirteen is the fun ride of the building after all. There will be scores of people waiting in the ride queue to experience the adrenalin rush!’ I added with humour in my voice.r />
  Mr. Milani did not smile. He simply maintained eye contact with his raised an eyebrow until I had finished talking, and then added with the lowering of his eyebrow, ‘Very well. Good day then Henry.’

  I bowed slightly to him, and then Mrs. Camden. ‘You have my sincerest thoughts for the best for you Mrs. Camden.’ I widened my eyes at her as my words left my lips, planting a seed into her mind. It would sprout at the required time—her time of need.

  I breathed out a steady stream of air through my lips then about turned and exited Mr. Milani’s office. I retreated to the solace of my elevator, deep in thought about the cruelty of human nature, and the consequences of failing in self-control, not only to the self, but to those whom we love, and who matter the most.

  I started to see the Earth in shades of grey; the environment and the people. And I saw my spiritual realm in full colour. Nobody could ever see or feel the true freedom, the uplift, the soaring spirit, the surrounding Light energizing your soul and mind, and the pure acceptance of your being without judgment that one felt every moment in the dominion of the spiritual ether. I craved to be there again. Earth was torture when I knew what was in store for me after this life.

  If only I could die ...

  It was with conditions though. I was forbidden to take my own life once I had gained mortality.

  How would my life end then if I had no control over when or how it would be?

  Sometimes I wished to see how my life would unfurl. But then, the unknown was exciting. Had I been able to see my future spread out before my eyes, boredom would prevail.

  Yes, I liked that I had no idea what was going to happen to me from one moment to the next.

  In that instant, I was starkly reminded that my window for transformation to becoming mortal was closing.

  Perhaps I couldn’t do it on my own?

  Perhaps guidance would come, in whatever form, for I knew that all things were possible. I just had to have faith, and humble myself, being thankful for this opportunity for enlightenment, and for polishing until I was shining, ready to re-enter the spiritual realm.