by Ken Scholes
I look down at myself for the first time, expecting obsidian black, but instead I find bright white with swirls of sapphire blue and dusk rose. White? I gaze in awe for more than a few minutes then collect myself and draw a number from the dispenser. The paper tab tears off, and I look to see a large ONE stamped on the green paper in gold leaf. I look up at the lit monitor over the desk. “Now serving number 64,893,394,563,172,289,516,” it declares. I look back at my number.
One.
“Number one, please report to office number one.” I hear the androgynous, monotone voice clearly in my head, but the monitor doesn’t change. And as I stand here wondering where I’m supposed to find office number 1, a carved wooden door materializes in front of me with a large golden 1 painted on it. I turn the knob and push the door slowly open.
Gathering myself and stepping through it, I find myself in a large, brightly lit room with an immense mahogany desk and a high-backed chair in the middle. The room looks deceptively inviting. The comforting scent of hickory wafts from a cheerful fire burning on the hearth of a large fireplace in the back of the room. Beige leather couches and chairs are scattered between numerous bookshelves. Among the titles strewn across a low mahogany coffee table near me, I see Dante’s Purgatorio and can’t help smiling. Michael has done his homework.
His back is turned to me as he hovers just off the ground to one side of the fireplace, white robes blowing gently in a nonexistent breeze.
Very theatrical.
He turns slowly and smiles, but there’s no warmth in that smile. He tugs on his black goatee and studies me. His dark hair and skin contrast with his pale blue eyes, making them appear to glow and giving him an ominous look-meant to intimidate, no doubt. Michael is known for that.
“Welcome, Lucifer. Apparently the Almighty has put you on the fast track. I would have made you wait.” He gestures to a comfortable-looking leather chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
“No thanks. I prefer to stand.” I’ve been around too long to let my guard down around an archangel. Especially this one. An eternity of passing judgment has given him a God complex.
The whole innocent-until-proven-guilty concept applies to Heaven and Hell as well, and Limbo is under Heaven’s control. Michael’s, specifically. You’d think that would work in their favor, but Michael believes in strict quality control, so actually the numbers usually come out to Hell’s advantage.
I take one more step forward. “What’s the deal? Why am I not in Hell?”
“If you’re that eager to burn in the Inferno for all eternity, so be it. I mistakenly thought you might want to discuss alternatives.” He waves his hand dismissively and turns to glide behind his desk.
I swallow my pride, along with the thick lump in the back of my throat. “Wait.” I follow him to the desk and slide into the leather chair. “What alternatives?”
His eyes soften and his expression hints at amusement. “It appears there’s someone in the mortal realm who wants you back. Quite desperately, actually. It’s really quite touching. It also happens that this someone has a fair amount of Sway, which apparently extends to the celestial, because Gabriel is having a difficult time saying no.”
My head spins. Is it possible? Could Frannie have enough Sway to will me back to life? I’ve never heard of such a thing happening. But I’ve also never heard of a demon becoming human.
“From the look on your face, I take it this would be an acceptable alternative?”
I snap out of my musings to find a smile on my face and a tear coursing down my cheek. I wipe both away and look hard at Michael. “Is it possible?”
“It is. But there are conditions. This isn’t a free pass.”
My heart sinks. A catch. There’s always a catch. “What conditions?”
“What we know is that Frannie changed you. Her Sway is powerful.” What he doesn’t say, but I read in his eyes, is that by powerful he means dangerous. A mortal with Sway over mortals is one thing. But a mortal with Sway over the infernal and celestial is quite another. He’s scared of her.
As if he read my thoughts, because I’m sure he did, his temper flares. “She wants you now, and she got you by making you mortal.” He spits out the last word as if it tastes bad. “What none of us knows is what will happen when she doesn’t want you anymore. Humans, after all, can be quite fickle.” A self-satisfied smirk settles across his features as he listens in while I ponder that.
I know it was Frannie’s Sway-her love-that changed me, but I’d never stopped to consider what would happen if her feelings changed. If she didn’t want me anymore, would I stay human? Die? Change back into a demon?
“What conditions?” I ask again with a heavy heart. There’s no use putting up a front when he’s in my head.
“Convince her to forgive herself so Gabriel can tag her for Heaven.”
It sounds simple enough, and it’s what I’ve wanted her to do all along, but I don’t miss the look in his eye as he says it. Something vacillating between greed and lust.
“What will happen to her once she’s tagged?”
“That’s not your concern,” he says dismissively with a wave of his hand.
I spring out of the chair. “Like hell it’s not.” My hands on his desk, I lean across it, toward him. “She wants a life. If she’s tagged for Hell, she won’t have one. She’ll be King Lucifer’s puppet. Tell me that won’t happen if she’s tagged for Heaven.”
“I can’t say what will happen. It’s not my call.”
My voice shakes as I fight to keep my rage in check. “I don’t believe you.”
He stares at me and shakes his head. “You poor, pathetic boy. Acting like you have any pull here. You will do this, or you’ll burn in the Inferno.”
I look back at myself. White. I can’t see how it’s possible, but I’m clean. No black. No gray. No red. White. “What sin sends me to the Inferno?”
His smile is amused, but there’s frustration hidden behind the facade. “You’re joking.”
I can’t read his thoughts, but I can read his eyes. He’s bluffing. I keep my voice soft-calm-as I call him on the lie. “You don’t have to send me back to Frannie, but you can’t send me to the Abyss.”
His eyes flare red for just a second before he pounds his fist through the top of the desk. To my ears his voice sounds as indistinct as a thunderclap, but in my head I hear the words within the roar clearly. “Maybe not, but I can make you wish I had!”
Can Heaven be a living Hell? If there’s anyone who could make it that, it would be Michael. But it’s better that it’s my living Hell-not Frannie’s. Before looking into Michael’s eyes, I would have thought Frannie being tagged for Heaven was a good option. They generally don’t use their own too roughly, and with Gabriel looking out for her.
Now I’m not sure. Frannie’s only chance at a life may be if she stays untagged. Gabriel wouldn’t betray her. would he? “Fine. The Abyss it is.”
Shock stretches his eyes wide. Apparently that’s not the answer he expected. In his misplaced confidence, he forgot to spy on my thoughts. “I don’t think you understood me. You’re doing this. I’m giving you a second chance. You should be grateful.”
“I don’t believe in second chances.” I turn and walk out the door. As I slam through it, Michael’s growl trails off, and everything goes quiet and white. I’m drifting again. If this nothingness is Heaven, I may have made the wrong choice. I’m not sure I can just drift for all of eternity.
But then I picture Frannie’s sapphire eyes, and I’m no longer drifting, I’m soaring. I hear Frannie laughing, smell the clove and currant of her soul, feel her touch as surely as if she were here with me. And then my essence is swirling and blending with hers.
This is Heaven.
Frannie
In my dream, Luc and I are dancing under the stars-spinning and laughing like we’re one person, sharing one body. I feel him everywhere, inside and out. His touch feels like Heaven, and I hear myself moan. I want to be this cl
ose to him forever-to die right here in his arms.
“Frannie?” Gabe’s voice is soft in my ear. As I open my eyes and they adjust to the harsh lighting, it takes me a second to get my bearings. We’re still in the waiting room at the hospital, and I’m cradled against Gabe’s chest. “Hey, Frannie, wake up,” he says, smoothing a hand over my burned and snarled hair.
It’s the sting in my shoulder and the telltale smell of singed hair that confirms that it wasn’t all just a really bad dream.
“Frannie?” he says again.
“Yeah, I’m awake. Can we just go home? Please?” I say into his chest as I feel tears sting my swollen eyes.
“Hey,” Gabe says, and I feel his finger under my chin, lifting my face to look at him. When I look at his face, he’s smiling, and the pain is gone from his sparkling blue eyes.
“What?” I ask. “What happened?” I look up at a smiling doctor in green hospital scrubs.
“Your friend is out of surgery,” the doctor says. “I truly can’t explain it, short of a miracle. They resuscitated him in the ambulance, but he was in bad shape when he got here. We lost him for a long time on the operating table, but we were able to get him back. He really shouldn’t have survived. ”
“So. what are you saying?” The desperation in my voice rings clear.
“It looks like he’s going to be fine. We’ll know for sure in the next few hours. Just keep praying.”
My heart explodes into a million pieces and I start to hyperventilate. Tears course down my cheeks as I struggle to breathe, and I bury my face in my hands. “Oh my God. Luc.”
Chapter 23
On a Wing and a Prayer
Frannie
They finally let me in to see Luc this morning, but I can’t bring myself to even look at him. Because, after everything, I know what needs to happen, and I’ve spent the last two days agonizing over it. I stare blindly out the window at the mist falling outside, making everything look filmy and ghostlike. I know I should say something, but I don’t trust my voice. I pull a deep breath and try to concentrate on what I have to do.
I lean my forehead into the glass. “The doctor didn’t say he found anything. weird in there when he was digging around?”
“No.”
“So, I guess that means you’re human now?”
“Guess so.”
I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here. I move toward the door without turning around. “I should probably go.”
“Frannie, talk to me.” His voice, the desperation in it, stops me in my tracks.
I raise my hand to my face, trying to erase the evidence of my tears. I turn slowly to face him, and his expression almost kills me. How can I do this? I’m not strong enough. I drop my eyes to the floor.
He holds out his hand to me, and I can’t help myself. I walk to the bed and sit on the edge of it. At his touch, my heart races, but I still don’t look at him.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says, and I feel tears well up in my eyes again.
“I’m thinking we shouldn’t be together. I’m bad for you.”
He heaves a huge sigh. When he speaks, he doesn’t even try to hide the laughter in his voice. “You? You’re bad for me?”
I can’t believe he’s making fun of me-making light of this whole thing. Anger flares deep inside me, and I hear it in my voice. I pull my eyes from the blankets and glare at him. “I almost got you killed. You were immortal and I took that from you. You’d have lived forever if it wasn’t for me.”
“Living forever isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. The piece of forever I’ve lived is plenty.”
“You’re just saying that.” I turn my head away, trying to clear it and get myself together.
He reaches up for my cheek and turns me to face him. “Frannie, look at me.” My eyes reluctantly slide to his. “For this feeling,” he taps his free hand on his chest, “I’d have given up anything. I’d say my immortality was a small price to pay, but I don’t feel like I’ve paid anything. I feel like I’ve been paid with the most valuable thing anyone could ever want.” A tear slips over my lashes, and he wipes it away. “You love me. What else could I ever ask for?”
I feel hot tears on my cheek as I lean down to kiss him.
“Don’t mind me or anything.” And out of the blue-literally-Gabe is sitting in the chair under the window, looking all angelic.
Luc glares over my shoulder at him. “You really need to stop doing that. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude not to knock?”
But then it hits me. I know what needs to happen. I hop up, feeling a thousand times lighter, and walk over to Gabe. I grab his hand and pull him out of the chair. “We need to talk.”
I drag him out the door as Luc watches with concerned amusement on his face, and we find a bench in the hall. I sit with my elbows on my knees, resting my forehead in my hands.
The din of the hospital is white noise-generic-and I focus on that to slow the whir of my spinning head. I wind my fingers into my hair and stare at the floor between my feet. “You want to tag me for Heaven.”
“Yes,” Gabe says.
“And they’ll stop coming for me if you do.”
“Eventually.”
“But I have to forgive myself.”
“Yes.”
I pull my head from my hands, surprised at how light it feels. “I’ll cut you a deal,” I say, the anchor lifting from my heart.
Gabe leans back on the bench and smiles up at me as I walk back into Luc’s room. I slide onto the edge of his bed, and his eyes narrow as he laces his fingers in mine. “What was that all about?” He can’t hide the jealousy in his voice.
“Nothing,” I say.
He drops my hand and his eyes search mine.
I run a finger over his cheek, outlining the bandage on his face, and he shudders. He pulls a sigh and reaches for my face. “You know, when I told you to use your Sway with Beherit, I meant to save yourself, not me.”
I press my cheek into his hand. “I couldn’t think. I just. knew what I wanted.”
He pulls me into a kiss, but just as our lips touch, there’s a knock at the door. He holds me around the neck when I try to back away, and we finish our kiss. Then he smiles and yells, “Come in!”
The door swings open. Gabe smiles, all proud of himself for knocking. “Heads up!” he says, and, with a flick of his wrist, a shiny silver object on a chain sails across the room.
Luc grabs it out of the air before it slams into his face. “Thanks,” he says to Gabe.
Gabe props himself on the doorframe. “I’m not your errand boy. Next time you need something, get it yourself.”
I look at the object in Luc’s hand. It’s a crucifix; larger than the last one and with a pointed end.
“I had this for you. that night.” He smiles wanly. “But I got a little sidetracked before I could give it to you.” He folds the crucifix into my hand.
Gabe meanders into the room. “You’re going home tomorrow.”
I pull away from Luc and look at Gabe. “How do you know?”
He shoots me a sardonic glance and slouches back into the chair under the window.
“Gabriel. ” Luc’s face shifts through frustration into anger and finally seems to settle on confused. “How.?” he asks.
“The decision was already made. It was never up to Michael.” His glance shoots to me and his eyes sparkle. “She wanted it, and you earned it.” Then he looks back at Luc, his expression serious. “Plus, we need your help.”
Luc nods at him. “Thanks.”
He quirks half a smile. “It wasn’t my decision either. You’ve impressed Him.” His eyes shift to the ceiling.
I look from Luc to Gabe and back, confused. “What are you guys talking about?”
Luc smiles at me. “You’ve got archangels quaking in their boots.”
That was a very unhelpful reply.
Gabe slides out of his chair and moves to the side of the bed, placing his hand on my shoulder. “L
et’s just say there was some dissension in the ranks, but we’ve got it sorted now.” He looks back at Luc. “How are you feeling?”
Luc flashes his winning smile and squeezes my hand. “Invincible.”
“Well, just remember that you’re not anymore, so if you want to be around to look after Frannie, reckless abandon isn’t your best strategy.”
Luc rolls his eyes.
Gabe grins, blinding me. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say, so I recruited you some help. He’s fresh out of training-just yesterday, as a matter of fact-but there’s no one better for the job.”
“Hey Frannie.” The voice is musical, like Gabe’s but different. It’s lighter somehow. I turn and, on the other side of the room, there’s a boy, maybe seventeen, medium height, with sandy-blond curls, sky-blue eyes, and the face of. well. an angel. He’s leaning against the wall, hands in his jeans pockets, smiling at me.
All the air is knocked out of me and my legs suddenly go weak. “Matt?” I can barely get the word out. He looks just like the image from my head-the way I pictured he’d look if he was still alive.
He smiles and the glare burns my retinas. “In the flesh-sort of.”
I turn to Gabe. “I don’t. ” but I can’t form the rest of the thought.
Matt laughs-a sound like wind chimes. “I’m your guardian angel.” He laughs again. “Would you ever have thunk it when I was sticking gum in your hair and stealing your bike?”