A Deafening Silence In Heaven - Thomas E. Sniegoski Page 0,128
for the last fifty years or so; isn’t that right, Don?”
The fallen angel smiled thinly, continuing to take the man’s measurements.
“And in his time here, he’s become quite the tailor. I wouldn’t think of going to anyone else for a suit.” And then he must have noticed the look on Lazarus’ face. “What is it?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“That look. When I mentioned never going to anyone else for a suit, you made a face.”
“Did I?”
“You did. Why?”
“Perhaps . . .”
“Perhaps?”
“Perhaps because I wouldn’t imagine that somebody like you . . .”
“Somebody like me,” the man said, and smiled radiantly.
“I couldn’t imagine someone like you needing a suit.”
“Why wouldn’t I need a suit?”
Lazarus shrugged. “Do they even wear suits in . . . ?”
“Do they wear suits in Hell?”
“Well, yes.”
The man chuckled as the tailor moved down to his legs. “Of course we wear suits in Hell, especially when our armor is at the cleaners.”
Lazarus found himself actually chuckling, feeling far more at ease with this being than he would ever have imagined.
“Besides, I have to look sharp for Unification,” he added. “So what is it that you’ve come to tell me?” the man asked, changing the subject.
“He sent me to tell you that things are in flux,” Lazarus began.
“In flux?”
“Yes, there are some things that might . . .”
“Will Unification still occur?” the man interrupted, a dark seriousness coming over his handsome features.
“Yes, but there could be things that might affect the ceremony.”
“What kind of things?”
“He didn’t say.”
“So you can’t be more specific?”
Lazarus shook his head. “If I could, I would, but you know what I do. . . .” He stopped, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
“Go on,” the man prompted.
“I don’t think it has to do with anything, but . . .”
“Go on,” the man ordered.
“Remy Chandler,” Lazarus said quickly. “The Seraphim that left the Golden City after . . .”
“I know who he is.” The way the words were spoken implied much.
“He’s currently in a bit of trouble—demonic assassins attempting to collect on a contract.”
“What does that have to do with Unification . . . with me?”
“I’m not sure that it does,” Lazarus said. “But I know that Remy had something to do with your return to power, and . . .”
“I find your concern for the Seraphim of interest,” the man suddenly said, his tone far darker than it had been. “Didn’t you betray the angel—the world, actually—when you actively participated in the summoning of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse a few years back?”
Lazarus felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach, his most chilling indiscretion laid out before him by the master of indiscretions.
“He was a good friend before my lack of judgment got the better of me,” Lazarus said. “I was hoping . . .”
“Hoping what?” the man asked sharply. “That I might step in and somehow alleviate your guilty conscience?”
“No, that wasn’t why I mentioned it at all,” Lazarus attempted to explain. “It’s just that—”
“Is that it, Lazarus?” The man cut him off. “Is that all that you have for me from Him?”
Lazarus slowly nodded. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“Thank you,” the man said dismissively. “I’ll be sure to keep in mind what you’ve said once the ceremony begins.”
Lazarus stood there a moment longer, wanting to say something more but realizing that it probably wasn’t the best of ideas. So without another word, he turned and walked out of the building.
Making his way down the stairs, he felt surprisingly lighter. He had delivered the Lord’s message to the Morningstar, and hopefully planted a seed as well.
For Remy and his friends needed as much help as they could get.
• • •
“Blue or black?” Donahan asked.
Lucifer had been lost in thought, recalling a time when he’d believed himself to be somebody else and not the Son of the Morning.
“Excuse me?” he questioned, realizing that he’d been spoken to.
“Blue or black?” the angel tailor repeated.
Lucifer’s reflection stared back, confused.
“Your suit,” Donahan explained. “Do you want blue or black?”
“Oh, certainly,” Lucifer answered. “Let’s go with the black.”
“Very good.” Donahan finished the measurements. “You were rather hard on the messenger, weren’t you, Lucifer?”
“Do you think?” he asked, stepping down off the pedestal.
“Things seemed to get a little tense when he mentioned the Seraphim.”
“Remy Chandler,” Lucifer said. If it hadn’t been for him . . .
“His name seemed to strike a nerve. Why is that?”
The tailor had moved over to a small desk and was jotting down the various measurements from memory.