It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,69

my hands in my lap and the coolness of Sandy’s ring takes me by surprise. Until now, nothing has felt hot or cold.

I focus on the ring until Shepard breaks the awkwardness settling over the crowd. “It would seem that we have all the information we need and the decision is in our hands, Brothers. Shall we convene for counsel?” Not waiting for Azbaugh’s answer, he stands up and slowly unfurls his wings to their full length. The flapping starts as a gentle breeze, growing steady as he rises. When Marmaroth joins him, the air begins to swirl, but at least he’s taking care not to stir up the wind too much. Azbaugh, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care about our comfort and shoots up, his wake leaving everyone struggling to stay upright.

“Oh, yeah,” Sal says. “He’s not happy.”

I turn to him, feeling the blood drain from my face. “He can’t refuse me. Not after what he just heard. How can he say I can’t go back when everyone, including the mind invader over there, says I’ve changed? Geez. Even the Akashic Records are on my side.”

“Because he’s Azbaugh,” Sal says in frustration. “Don’t you get it? The Tribunal was called because Azrael said it had to be. But he does not determine the outcome. The Tribunal can do whatever they want and there is no one to overturn their decision. Azbaugh doesn’t have to explain the reason for his vote.”

“So this has probably been a complete waste of time,” I sulk.

Sal shakes his head. “We were never trying to get Azbaugh’s vote. It’s the other two we’re working on.”

“Well, do you think we got them?”

Sal looks away. “I don’t know.”

I see Grams and Madeline huddling close together, whispering and giving me hopeful looks that aren’t very convincing. Around the room, I meet similar faces staring at me. People want to encourage me but deep down, they’re not sure what’s going to happen. I begin to prepare myself for the worst. Maybe the Lobby wouldn’t be so bad.

Turning back to Sal I ask, “What if they reject my appeal? What happens then?”

Sal doesn’t answer for a moment. When he finally does, I’m not happy with his response. “They will make a recommendation to Azrael. Basically, they’ll likely suggest you be hidden until your time is up.”

“Why can’t I just go back to the Lobby?”

“You’ve already proven that you have the ability to communicate with the newly deceased,” he answers. “Azrael will want you kept out of sight of souls going through processing.”

He’s talking about the lovesick biker. Why didn’t I leave that guy alone?

I force myself to pay attention to the rest of Sal’s speech. “However, you haven’t completed processing, so you won’t be able to enter Heaven or Hell, either.”

“Why does it have to be ‘or Hell’? At the very least, I should get a free pass to Heaven.”

He ignores me. “Something in between will have to be figured out.”

“Maybe I can work at the coffee shop,” I suggest, remembering how I was able to enter the space and interact with the barista. Wait a minute. What am I doing? Am I giving up? Am I seriously sitting here, contemplating what I can do to pass the time until my mortal time of death.

Sal seems to consider the idea. “It’s a possibility. But as I said, that will be up to Azrael.”

He glances over at Zachriel, who is starting to show signs of life again. “It’s hard on him, you know,” Sal says, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me.

“What?”

He glances at me and then back to Zachriel. “Going through memories. It’s hard. I can’t imagine how it is to explore a mind that is neither dead nor alive.”

I glance at Madeline and she gives me an encouraging wink. Her support is a sad reminder that even if, by some miracle, the Tribunal sends me back, she will still be here. I won’t have my best friend.

As if sensing my sudden sadness, Madeline reaches over the wooden rail and squeezes my hand. Instinctively, I squeeze back and the heat coming from her takes me off guard. Everything up here is the same temperature, but right now, in this moment, I can feel the warmth radiating from her.

“You know,” I start, turning toward her, “I never asked what you do up here. I mean, other than helping me not screw up my future.”

She beams at me. “Oh, I don’t know yet. I haven’t found my place.”