It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,24
each other like you’re keeping a secret from me. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of people making me feel bad for something that’s not my fault.”
There are no sounds once the echoes of my words fade away. Yeats breaks the silence. “I would try to avoid doing that in front of the Tribunal.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, taking in a deep breath. “So is he here?”
“Who?” Yeats asks.
“Death Himself.”
“No, but I’m sure he will be.” Hazel averts her gaze, and her unwillingness to look me in the eye does not inspire confidence.
“What about Gideon?” I ask in a panic. “He can tell them what happened.”
Yeats shakes his head. “He’s just a Reaper. The Tribunal won’t listen to anyone except Death Himself.”
“Who isn’t here,” I remind him. My knees buckle, and Yeats reaches down to catch my elbow.
“I’m so screwed,” I moan.
“It doesn’t look good,” Hazel agrees.
My head snaps up at her. “I thought you were supposed to be my Guardian Angel. Aren’t you on my side?”
“I am on your side. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up when the odds are stacked against you.”
“Because I’m just a spoiled princess who doesn’t care about anyone but myself. Isn’t that what you said earlier?” I mutter with a huff. “Why can’t anyone see that I’m the victim here?”
Hazel surprises me by wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “I know how good you can be. I’ve watched you every day of your life. But what you can do and what you’ve done aren’t the same. Not to mention, this is uncharted territory. You need to be ready to defend your life.”
I groan. “How can I fight when everything is on the Tribunal’s terms?”
“I’m sure Salathiel has a plan,” she says with a tired smile.
Before anyone can say anything more, the door at the top of the stairs creaks open.
“Enter,” a voice calls. “Enter into the Judgment Hall, Rowena Joy Jones. The Tribunal is waiting.”
I lean over to Yeats. “Where’s the guy who’s going to represent me?”
He nods toward the open door. “In there.”
I close my eyes. “I can do this,” I whisper to myself. When my nerves settle, I add, “Let’s go.” Yeats and Hazel exchange another look. “What?”
“We can’t go in,” Yeats says, his wings hanging a little lower.
“Why not?” I demand.
“We are Guardians,” Hazel says. “We cannot enter the Hall unless the Tribunal requests our presence.”
I think I’m going to throw up. “So I’m on my own?”
She nods. “Salathiel will take care of you. You can trust him.”
I raise a foot and take my first steps toward the looming entryway. My legs feel like they’re made of lead. When I reach the top and turn around, Yeats and Hazel are gone. Just like that. I am alone.
“If I ever see that gypsy again, I’ll kill her,” I mutter.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her,” someone says. I look up and see another angel. This one has long, stringy blond hair, like a surfer who’s been in the water all day.
“Are you Salathiel?” I ask, tentatively.
He nods. “You can call me Sal. It’s easier to say. Now, let’s you and I have a chat, shall we? There’s a lot to go over if we’re going to rewrite your history.”
I smile at his optimism, even though I know he’s forcing it. “Sure. Should I start at the beginning?”
He looks at me with surprise. “Is there anywhere else to start?”
Once more, I tell my story. And like Azrael, he truly listens to everything I say.
“Well,” he says when I finish, “it’s not going to be easy, but I think we can do this. However, I have to know one thing before we proceed.”
“What?”
“What are you willing to risk to go back?”
Willing to risk? Is he crazy? I have nothing left. I’m dead. “Anything,” I say to him.
He holds my gaze for a long while. “Are you sure?”
No, but I’m not backing down. I’ve come too far to stop. I give him a swift nod before saying, “Yes.”
He smiles. “Good. Because that’s the only way you have a shot.” And with that, he walks swiftly out the room and down the hall, leaving me standing alone. “You coming?” he calls back. “The Tribunal won’t like it if we’re late.”
While his voice is light and cheerful, I have no doubt that the consequences of crossing the Tribunal will be severe. I spring into action and follow him down the hall and into the unknown. Behind me, the doors slam shut.