A Deafening Silence In Heaven - Thomas E. Sniegoski Page 0,105

was gore beneath his fingernails, and he was using a paper clip that he’d found on the floor to clean them.

“This man’s suffering,” the angel said instead. “May I?”

Simeon stopped digging and looked up. “If you must.”

Satquiel extended his hand and a dagger of fire appeared. He pierced the man’s skull, ending his life, as well as that of the demonic parasite possessing him.

“Are we through yet?” Simeon asked impatiently.

Satquiel disposed of his blade and stood.

“Where?” Simeon asked again.

The angel reached inside the pocket of his suit jacket and produced a piece of branch, holding it out to the forever man.

Simeon took the branch and brought it to his nose, sniffing it deeply.

“The Garden,” he said, almost euphoric with the overwhelming scent of the place.

“Take me there.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Remy stood beneath the buzzing neon sign, staring at the open door and the darkness beckoning him to enter.

He reached out and gave the heavy door a push. It creaked loudly as it swung farther inward, stale air wafting out to greet him like an eager puppy.

And Remy stepped into the cool darkness of Methuselah’s.

The first thing he noticed was the missing doorman. But as his eyes adjusted to the deep gloom, he found Phil in a chair not far from the entrance. The minotaur sat in the heavy wooden seat, mighty horned head slumped forward on his chest as if dozing, but Remy knew dead when he saw it.

Sadly, he wondered what could have felled the mighty mythological beast, then noticed the streaks of white and gray in the hair that covered the minotaur’s body. He had a suspicion that maybe the passage of time might have played a role in the doorman’s demise.

Remy moved into the room and stood beside the bar. Lights slowly came to life, as if awakening to his presence. The lights illuminated the barroom floor, and he noticed that all the tables had been pushed back against the walls to open up the floor space. At first he wasn’t sure what he was seeing there, the shapes lying on the floor looking like discarded bags of laundry, but on second inspection he believed that they were actually bodies.

What the hell happened in this place? Remy wondered to himself as a string of Christmas lights hung along the top of the bar turned on, causing him to spin toward it.

Remy gasped at the sight of the large stone body—a golem—hunched over the bar, as lifeless as Phil and the sheet-covered bodies strewn about the barroom floor. The golem was Methuselah, the Biblical figure whose human form had grown so frail while alive for thousands of years that he had his life force transferred into the body of a stone giant so that he might continue to live. He was also the owner of the drinking establishment.

Remy touched the cold stone of the golem’s head, which was resting on the bar top.

“What happened?” Remy asked aloud. “Why am I here?”

He was removing his hand when there was a sudden spark, an arc of static electricity from the tips of his fingers to the golem’s head. Remy yanked back his hand, now tingling and numb from the shock, and gave it a frantic shake. And then Methuselah’s head began to move, slowly lifting from where it rested, eyes buried deep within their stone sockets blazing to life as if fires within the stone man’s skull had suddenly been stoked with coal.

“Remy,” the golem said in recognition.

“Methuselah,” Remy answered.

“You’re back.”

“Yeah, looks like I am.”

“It’s been a long time,” Methuselah commented. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

The lights had grown increasingly brighter inside the bar, and Remy could see more of his surroundings. From what he could recall, the establishment had never been more than moderately clean, but now, in the light, he saw that it was covered in inches of dust, with so many spiderwebs that you’d think that the place was somehow being held together with strands of arachnid silk.

“Didn’t know I was supposed to come here,” Remy said, being honest.

The stone man studied him with glowing eyes.

“Okay,” Methuselah said, then turned away, going to the dusty shelf behind him. “Looks like you could use a drink.”

The bottle was covered in layers of grime, nearly masking the brown liquid that sloshed around inside. Methuselah found a dusty glass and held it out.

“Mind some dust?” he asked.

Remy shrugged. “The booze should clean it out all right.”

“You haven’t changed that much,” the golem said with a chuckle that sounded like two pieces of