It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,75

felt betrayed. And that betrayal, combined with the fear of what was to come in the time she had left, melted together to create one angry, bitter girl.”

“We broke her,” I whisper.

Death Himself nods. “In a way. She was no longer pure of heart. She had learned to hate. Nice little lesson to get right before you’re going to die.”

“She would never have had a chance to become an angel, then.”

Death Himself looks at me in surprise. “Who told you about that?”

Lost in thought, I answer without thinking: “Sal.” Slowly I raise my hand to my mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

Death Himself just laughs. “Yeah, like I’m going to get the guy who just saved my job in trouble. Do I look like an idiot?”

I give his current outfit an up and down appraisal. “No, not at all.”

“See, more proof you don’t belong here. You’re probably the only person who can get away with lying in this place.”

I just grin. After all, sarcasm isn’t lying. Not really. It’s more like my superpower. “Why are you being so nice to me? The last time we were in the same room, I thought you were going to rip my head off.”

“Two reasons. One, I’m no longer in the hot seat because of this whole mess, and two, you did good, kid. Better than I thought you would do.”

“You thought I was going to fail, didn’t you?”

“Let’s just leave it at this: there were moments when I thought locking you in a broom closet for the rest of eternity was a good backup plan.”

“Was I really that bad?” I ask, the sting of his comment hitting me in the gut.

“In the beginning, yeah, you were that bad. But you got better.” He grins at me and reaches out to tousle my hair.

“Quit,” I snap. “I hate that.”

“I know,” he says. “Some things never change.”

“Funny.”

“I thought so,” he says, turning to lead me away from the Hall. “Now, how about we find your Guardian and get you on a train back to your life?” I don’t follow immediately and he stops. “That is what you want, right?”

Of course it is. It’s what I did all this for, isn’t it? Then why am I afraid to put one foot in front of the other and leave?

Death Himself backtracks toward me. “RJ, we need to leave now. You’ll miss your window.”

I nod slowly, but still don’t move. For the life of me, I can’t think of any reason why I would want to stay, but I can’t leave. And then it hits me. All this time, while the battle to send me back was raging on, I got to spend a little more time with Grams and Madeline. I’ll even miss Saint Peter and Al and that smelly dog with three heads. I guess I like it here. It’s starting to feel like home.

As if reading my thoughts, Death Himself grabs me by the arms and moves me forward. “Go. Now. After everything I’ve gone through, you are not allowed to change your mind. Heaven and Earth have been moved and at no point will missing your friends and family be an acceptable reason not to return to the living.”

“But—”

“There are no buts,” Death Himself insists. He then softens his tone. “There is only the life you are meant to live. You have to go back now. Everything is ready for you. Once Marmaroth sets out on a mission, there is no stopping him.”

“What about them?” I whimper. “Grams and Madeline—”

“What about them?” he asks. “They were fine before you got here and they will be just fine once you’re gone. Let’s get moving. Yeats is waiting.”

As we near the train, my fingers begin to tingle and I start examining them.

“It’s the memory of being alive,” Death Himself explains.

“What?”

He nods at my hands. “That sensation. It’s your soul remembering what it feels like to be connected to your body.”

“Oh.” I look over my shoulder and think I see Madeline watching, but the more my eyes strain to see her, the more the wisps of air swirl around me, blocking my view.

“Yeats,” Death Himself says as we approach the train, “here she is, delivered safe and sound.”

“So it would seem.” My Guardian turns to me and motions toward the door. “It’s almost time to leave.”

I look through the window into the train. It is crowded like before, but unlike my arrival, which consisted of mostly old souls, this crowd is full of Guardians cuddling what