A Deafening Silence In Heaven - Thomas E. Sniegoski Page 0,172

dog by his chair, and gazed up into the Heavens at the new star blazing in the sky. He missed his friend.

It was on nights like this, with summer just around the corner, when he knew that he would miss him the most.

Remy reached for the bottle of Glenlivet and poured himself two fingers of the fine scotch.

“Toasting Steven again?” asked a voice from nearby.

He turned in his chair to see Linda leaning in the doorway. The sight of her made him smile, and it was almost enough to take the sad edge off.

Almost.

She came to sit in his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. Marlowe lifted his big head and studied her momentarily before dropping it back down to the deck, snoring again in seconds.

“Where is it again?” she asked, taking the smallest of sips from his glass of scotch.

“The new star? Right there.” He raised his hand and pointed to a particular place in the heavens. “It burns just a little bit brighter than all the rest; can you see it?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Now I can.”

The world wasn’t that much different since Unification had come to pass. Those more sensitive to the preternatural could feel that something wonderful had occurred somewhere out there in the ether, but just about everybody else simply went on with their lives as they had before.

Even though Heaven was watching more closely now.

Linda had some more of his scotch before giving the glass back to Remy. “There weren’t any stories about him on the news tonight,” she said.

He knew exactly what she was talking about. Law enforcement was still on the hunt for a killer, or killers, who’d slain Boston Police detective Steven Mulvehill in his Somerville home. The search had been relentless, and even Remy had been questioned repeatedly. He wished that he could have shared the truth with them, but the truth was just too much.

Even with the Unification, the world was just not ready to know the reality of what existed around them, and Remy wasn’t really sure if they ever would be.

“It’s old news now,” he said, sadly swirling the golden liquid around in his glass. “Eventually, it’ll even be forgotten.”

“Steven will never be forgotten,” Linda said, leaning her cheek against his head.

“No, never.”

“I think I’m going to bed,” she said, and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Are you coming down?”

“I think I’m going to sit here a little bit longer, if that’s all right.”

“That’s fine,” she said getting up from his lap. “Feel free to wake me when you get in.”

He held her hand and kissed it before letting go.

She smiled at him, and he felt that oh-so-human flutter in the pit of his belly that reminded him how lucky he had been to find her.

“Come on, Marlowe,” she said to the dog. “Let’s go to bed.”

The dog looked at him first.

“Go on,” he told the beast. “I’m just going to sit here, think for a while, and drink.”

The Labrador climbed to his feet and stretched before trotting off to join Linda.

Alone, Remy closed his eyes and listened to the prayers of the world. The voices were much clearer since Unification, and he allowed them to wash over him.

But one prayer seemed to separate itself from all the others. It wasn’t that it was more important, it just stood out, as if it wanted to make sure that he heard it.

To know of it.

Curious, Remy focused on the pleas of a young woman in the throes of childbirth. She was praying to the Holy Father for her child—her son—to be healthy, and brave, and smart, and a leader whom others would look up to in times of need.

That he would be a good person.

Remy thought that was a lovely sentiment for her to want for her newborn child, but he could not understand why this plea—this prayer—was coming across so very strong, nearly drowning out all the other prayers of the world.

As if he was being told to pay attention.

Used to the mysterious machinations of his Holy Father, Remy did what he thought he should, putting all his focus on this new mother as she was about to bring life into the world.

Maybe she was in danger of some kind, he thought.

He set his glass down upon the table and stood, tilting his head in such a way as to listen beyond the woman’s silent pleas for her child’s future.

The screams of childbirth were bloodcurdling, but nothing out of the ordinary, soon followed by the wails