It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,28

a moment.

“Mercy,” Azbaugh roars, “is not the matter before this court! This is about the impact her whimsical request will warrant and whether the risk of altering the past is worth it. Mercy is only a factor once a decision has been rendered. Now, unless there are any further comments from the Tribunal, we will vote.”

And with that, my champion sits down in defeat. Unable to look at me, he waits for the verdict.

“Marmaroth?” Azbaugh asks. “What is your decision?”

He shakes his head. “I cannot, in good faith, agree to the unknown and countless changes that the world will endure if we agree to the alteration of this girl’s fate, no matter how much I would like to see her have another chance. I vote no.”

Azbaugh nods in approval. “Shepard?”

The angel is quick to the point. “By denying her a chance at redemption, we deny her existence. I vote yes. We should send her back, no matter the cost, because it is right and just.”

I can’t be sure, but I think Azbaugh rolls his eyes. When he looks at me, however, they are steady and empty. “As this Tribunal has voted in a tie, it is my job to decide your fate. While I do not doubt the infallibility of the Akashic Records, I must conclude this experience occurred for a reason and so I must—”

I can’t sit still any longer while these angels shred my very existence. If Sal isn’t going to speak up for me then I have nothing left to lose. Pushing my chair back so fast it clanks to the floor, I shout, “Stop it! This isn’t fair, and you know it. You can’t erase my future because you don’t think my past was good enough.” Sal is standing at my side, trying to pull me back, but I shake him off. Some defender of the underdog he turns out to be. “You can’t determine I’m unworthy to exist after just five minutes.”

“Silence!” Azbaugh thunders and a slight movement of his wings raises him a tad higher than the others. “I have made my decision. There is nothing more you can say in this matter. Your petty pleading is insulting.”

Just as Azbaugh is about to deliver what is undoubtedly my condemnation, the doors behind us open. Light shines in behind a broad-shouldered being that looks as much like an angel as I do. His hair is brown with loose curls that hang over the tips of his ears and his eyes, which are scanning the room, are so dark they look black. But his hair, eyes, and obvious lack of wings aren’t what make him stand out. No, it’s the bright Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts he’s wearing that catch my attention.

Azbaugh watches him stride to the front of the room, stopping a few feet before the bench. No one has to tell me that there’s no love lost between these two. The Angel of Judgment looks down at the new arrival with contempt but his intimidation is returned with palpable arrogance. Who is this guy?

“I believe I have the right to say something, seeing as how it was my Reaper who started this whole mess.”

And then it hits me.

This is Death Himself.

Chapter 12

“Nice of you to join us,” Azbaugh says with venomous disdain.

Death Himself is undeterred by the angel’s open hostility. “Life in the death business doesn’t run by a timetable. So, where were we?” Death Himself asks before he produces a black leather recliner out of thin air and drops down into it, flipping the footrest up and leaning back. I half expect him to snap a tub of popcorn into his lap like he’s settling in to watch a movie.

Azbaugh doesn’t look happy with Death Himself’s theatrics. “We were about to deliver our verdict. So if you don’t mind—”

“Actually, I do mind,” Death Himself says. “You see, it’s my department that has been called into question, and after reviewing the evidence, I have concluded that, in order to maintain the integrity of my Reapers, RJ should be returned to her natural place in time.”

“That is not your decision,” Azbaugh challenges. “We have been charged with this matter and it is in our opinion that the costs far outweigh the remote chance that Ms. Jones might actually amount to something of importance.”

Death Himself continues, undeterred. “I don’t answer to you, and you don’t rule over death. That is my jurisdiction.”

Azbaugh looks like he isn’t about to give up authority over my life without a