isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s not good,” he agrees. “But the bright side is that you and Death Himself both want the same end, regardless of the reason. He’s going to do whatever it takes to help you succeed because it’s in his best interest to. But he can’t assign just any ghost to be your guide. It has to be one connected to your life. They need to have a vested interest in the outcome of your choice.”
“And that’s why it costs favors?” I ask.
“If they were just any random three spirits, it wouldn’t. My boss could snag them before they cross over. But since the request is specific, he will have to appeal to Saint Peter for the release of the souls and then convince the souls to take part.”
I brighten up at the idea. “Peter likes me. Surely he’ll help me out.”
Gideon snorts. “Peter likes everyone. It’s part of his charm. But no one does anything for free and three specific souls are going to have Death Himself owing Saint Peter for eons to come.”
“I didn’t mean to screw everything up,” I say, hiding my face in my hands. I wonder if he’s using some angel voodoo to make me feel bad. “I just want to go home.”
Gideon sits down on the arm of the chair with a long sigh. “I get it. And I think deep down, and we’re talking really deep down, so does Death Himself, but this is going to be a tough road, for us and for you.”
“What happens next?”
“When your first ghost arrives, he or she will escort you to the point in your past that you’re meant to change. You’ll get one shot at it. Each ghost can help you as much or as little as they want. We might be able to summon their souls, but we can’t control them. You’ve hurt a lot of people over your life, even if you don’t know it. There’s no telling how much they’ll want you to succeed. Some of them might even want you to fail.”
I take a couple cleansing breaths. “Any last words of wisdom you want to offer up?”
“Yeah,” he says with a snort. “Don’t be you.”
What am I supposed to say? He has a point, but he’s still a jerk. The lights flicker overhead and any witty comeback dies on the tip of my tongue.
“Looks like your first guide is here,” he says, standing to leave. “I better get going.”
Maybe it’s the not knowing what’s going to happen, but the words that come out of my mouth surprise even me. “Gideon,” I say, reaching out for his robe. “I’m really sorry about all the trouble I’ve caused.”
He smiles. “How did that word ‘sorry’ taste?”
“Like lemonade without sugar,” I admit with a grin.
He chuckles before adding, “Oh, and just so you know, the gypsy didn’t die from a falling piano.” He pauses and I stare back, waiting for the next bombshell he’s going to drop on me.
“It was a tuba.” And with that he’s gone, leaving me to wait for whatever happens next.
Chapter 14
I never understood how silence could be deafening until now. This is the first time since I reviewed my life that I’ve been alone and I don’t like it. Sitting back in the chair, I spin the ring, switching it from my right to left hand. I think back to Sandy and wonder if she’s still getting into trouble in the Lobby. When I try to picture her in my mind, the painful buzz starts up somewhere in the back of my brain and I shut my eyes, wishing for it to go away. I know better than to try to think about my old life, but I didn’t know the Lobby was off limits, too.
With no other distraction, I think about the ghost who should arrive and whisk me off to replay my life like some over-told Christmas story. Except it’s not a story. It’s real and apparently I’m not the only person who stands to lose everything if it ends badly. No pressure or anything.
The mist around me begins to swirl as it takes on a slightly pinkish tint. I shut my eyes, then open them wide to make sure I’m not imagining the change. I’m not. In fact, when I look up, I see a woman with long red hair that falls in waves against her pale, radiant skin. Instead of a white robe like almost everyone else I’ve seen, she’s wearing a sheath dress that