It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,67
my eyes wide with fear and surprise. And then the dam breaks. I stand and return her embrace. Once again, I’m struck by how peaceful I feel around her. I wish I could feel this way forever. But she reluctantly breaks away and I look up to see Yeats pulling her into the audience. His look tells me he’s sorry and with a slight nod toward the dais, he redirects my attention to Azbaugh, who looks none too thrilled with my emotional outburst. I guess the Angel of Judgment doesn’t like feelings clouding up the facts.
Sal comes back around the table and motions for me to sit. I tuck my hair behind my ears and do as I’m told. I’m too exhausted to fight anymore. Madeline was my last chance. And if her passionate witness doesn’t convince the three angels that my life deserves a second chance, well, then I doubt anything will. I prepare for my turn before them.
“Zachriel,” Azbaugh asks once the smattering of conversation from the galley dies down, “are you ready?”
I lean over and whisper to Sal, “What’s happening?”
He tilts his head slightly, not taking his eyes off the dais. “Zachriel is going to sift through your memories to see if there is any evidence that your soul has changed after the experiences you’ve had.”
“Wait, so I don’t get to say anything?”
“Is there a problem?” Azbaugh calls out, irritation creeping into his tone.
Sal gives me a thanks-a-lot look and stands. “If it would please the Tribunal, I would like a few moments to discuss the next phase of the Tribunal’s inquiry with RJ. Surely, my Brothers, you would have no objections.”
Azbaugh nods and makes a motion with his hand. Out of the corner of my eye I see the wall to my right begin to shimmer and a door appears. Grabbing my arm, Sal propels me from the room.
When the door latches shut, he whirls around on me, exasperation filling the air. “Geez, RJ, can’t you just sit there and let me do my job? The less Azbaugh hears your voice, the better. He doesn’t like you.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I snap. “This is my life they’re debating. I think I’m entitled to have a say or at least know when someone’s going to be poking around in my brain.”
“No, you aren’t. Believe it or not, Zachriel might be your best shot at getting out of here.”
“What do you mean?”
“He knows what your life was like when you first got here. He’s going to use that as a baseline and filter out what you have learned and predict with perfect accuracy what will happen when your conscious and subconscious merge again. He alone can give witness to the growth you have experienced.
“If all they care about is Zachriel’s projections, what was the point of the testimonies?”
“That’s what Azbaugh cares about,” Sal agrees. “But Marmaroth and Shepard are swayed by other variables.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for starters, most of the time souls are passive, preferring to cast off the chains of mortality and enjoy life after death. But several have temporarily relinquished their peace and entered into this three-ring circus. For them to become impassioned and take up for a cause will go a long way to get you the other two votes.”
His eyes are pleading with me. I want to argue but I can’t. I know he’s got a point. I run my hands through my hair, twisting a few strands when I get to the end. “What do you think my chances are?”
“Azbaugh is looking for any reason to turn you down, but you already know that. I don’t think he cares about whether you are a good person or not. To him, this has been handled wrong from the beginning and should be made right.”
“And Marmaroth?”
Sal looks a little less sure now. “He’s the wild card. You scored some major points with him when Yeats brought up the Akashic Records. All of those lives with questionable futures won’t sit well with him. Add to the fact that they are most likely based on you being sent back, making the outcome all the more questionable if you don’t, and I think he could swing the vote in our direction. But he may see sending you back as a slippery slope to more appeals being made by souls who are not ready to accept their death. That could be enough for him to vote with Azbaugh.”
I take a deep breath and realize the room smells like the gardenia