Her description triggers something, and I remember the attire, including the booties over my shoes. “You were really tired. I never knew if you were listening or sleeping.”
“I was listening,” she assures me. “I heard every word.”
I feel the waterworks starting up again. “When I would leave, you would hold up your pinkie just enough for me to slip mine underneath. That’s how you said goodbye.”
Of course Death Himself picks this moment to interrupt us. “This is touching and everything, but we need to go. I can’t have you blubbering like an idiot before the Tribunal.”
Madeline and I both roll our eyes in perfect unison. I give her one last hug before taking a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
He offers me the sleeve of his cloak and I take it. Madeline disappears like a shimmering mirage and the next thing I know, we’re standing in front of Judgment Hall. I’d like to say it looks less intimidating than before. I’d also like to say I’m less nervous about standing before the Tribunal. But if I did, both would be lies. After all this time and who knows what changes await me back in my old life, I really, really want to go back. The thought that the Tribunal might reject my appeal makes me sick.
Death Himself tries to make me feel better. “You know they expected you to mess this little test up, right? Especially that last one. But you didn’t.”
“It wasn’t as hard as I thought,” I admit.
“The test itself, no. It’s what you, the new you, learned from the whole experience that matters. You know how Zachriel can see into your memories? Well, they’re going to expect him to dig around in that brain of yours and find any indication that you will turn out like your old self. If he uncovers anything, and I mean anything, that indicates you will, Azbaugh is going to make sure your request is denied. You’ll spend the rest of your lifeline in the Afterlife.”
For the record, Death Himself sucks at pep talks. Trying to hold on to my last sliver of hope, I ask, “But if they turn back the hands of time—”
“Don’t you get it?” Death Himself interrupts, looking at me like he’s not sure how clueless I am. “They already did. Your fate has been cast by your actions. You have already changed your outcome. Now you have to hope it was enough.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “So the future has changed and I’m still a part of it. If they keep me here, how will my death be explained?” I ask, hoping for a loophole.
“Kids go missing all the time.”
I decide this might be a good time to change the subject. “Why did you pick the moments you did?”
“Because they were the ones where your life was about to go off course and lead you away from the person you are meant to be.”
“You mean, it’s all about what I learned along the way?”
“Pretty much. How’d that work out for you?”
I shrug. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.”
Death Himself shakes his head. “You really don’t inspire confidence. You know that, right.”
“Look who’s talking.” A figure walking toward us distracts me. It’s Sal.
He gives Death Himself a nod as he approaches. “Nice of you to be on time for once.”
“Hey, no problem, buddy,” Death Himself says as he slaps Sal on the back. “You ready for this?”
Sal doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns to me. “I’ve reviewed your life journey. I must say, I’m impressed. There are some big changes.”
“I wish I could remember them all,” I admit. “There’s still a lot of stuff that’s fuzzy.”
“It’ll come,” Sal assures me. “But we don’t have any time to wait. The Tribunal is prepared to rule on your appeal and wash their hands of it. Even with everything you’ve accomplished, this is still going to be a tough sell.”
I nod in agreement. “I think I’m ready.”
“Good,” he says, leading the way up the stairs. “And just for the record, a lot of people here are pulling for you to win.”
“Really?” I ask. “I’m surprised anyone cares. Besides, wasn’t there supposed to be some type of gag order?”
“Are you kidding? No one can keep a secret around here.”
I look around self-consciously but I don’t see anyone or anything. I breathe a sigh of relief as we near the entrance of Judgment Hall. Sal pauses, his hand on the door. “I should also mention that the room is going to look a little different from before.”
“How so?” I ask, as we walk through the door. He motions with his eyes for me to turn around. When I do, a thousand faces peer back at me. Angels are seated in the balcony while souls fill the seats on the floor.
The first person my eyes focus on is Grams, sitting in the front row directly behind my chair. On one side of her is Angelica and on the other is my grandfather. Madeline sits next to him at the end of the row. I glance up and see Yeats and Hazel sitting in the first row of the balcony.
Sal gives me a slight shove and I walk numbly into the room. As I pass the back row, a hand reaches out and stops me. It’s Saint Peter.
“Al wanted to be here,” he explains, “but no one was willing to babysit the mutt, so she wanted me to tell you to knock ’em dead.”
“Thanks,” I choke out. “Why is everyone here?”
“Some want to see you crash and burn.”
From my mouth comes a sound that is a cross between a single chuckle of surprise and the last dying breath of a water buffalo. This makes Saint Peter smile with delight.
“Others are curious,” he continues. “But most of us are here to make sure you get a fair trial and get your second chance.”
“Come on,” Sal hisses. “You do not want to make Azbaugh any madder than he will be when he sees this circus.”
I let Sal propel me to a chair and focus my eyes over the crowd of heads as they twist to get a good look at me. When I sit down, Grams reaches over the rail separating us from the audience and squeezes my shoulder. “Everything will work out exactly as it should,” she says, trying to reassure me.
It doesn’t work.
A moment later, the flapping of wings captures everyone’s attention, and I look up at the dais in time to see the Tribunal descending. Azbaugh’s eyes are staring straight through me like he’s wishing my very essence into oblivion. As he pounds the gavel to bring the crowd to order, I’m starting to wish the same thing. What if I lose? What if everything I did turns out to be pointless? What if they don’t see enough good in my life?
Great. Now I sound like Death Himself. If the Tribunal rules against me, maybe I can work for him. That’ll be payback. The thought almost makes me smile.
Chapter 22
“We are here to discuss the appeal of Rowena Joy Jones,” Azbaugh calls out over the din of the crowd. He says my name as if the words taste of ash, and I shudder under his direct glare.
There’s no question about how he’s voting. Slowly, he turns to look at Sal. Unlike the first time I met him, my representative looks like he’s ready for battle. His wings are extended slightly, giving him a wider stance, and when he addresses the Tribunal, his chin juts out just a little. His confidence rolls over him and I think some of it rubs off on me.
“I am prepared to present the actions Ms. Jones demonstrated during the test assigned to her by the Tribunal. I believe you will see her outcome far exceeds the concerns expressed in this very room when last we gathered.” He gives me a nod to stand and I’m on my feet in an instant.
You know that confidence I had a minute ago? Yeah, well it’s gone. Azbaugh leans forward, peering down over the dais. “You seem rather sure of yourself, my Brother. I guess we might as well adjourn, seeing as how you have already deemed her actions worthy of the complete reversal of history.”
The room is silent and I sneak a look over my shoulder to see if the room has emptied out. It’s still standing room only. Turning back, I see Sal’s wings dip slightly. Oh no. He is not allowed to buckle under the weight of Azbaugh’s scrutiny. I start to reach for the s
leeve of his robe to show my support, but Sal surprises me when he raises his head and meets Azbaugh’s jeering eyes. “We are also prepared to present witnesses who will testify on RJ’s behalf.”
“You forget, Brother, it’s not for you to dictate the terms of this Tribunal. We are not a court of public opinion. That is a human concept. We will deal with fact and nothing else. All other information is subjective and thereby irrelevant.” Azbaugh looks at the other Tribunal members and I can tell by the way his chest puffs out that he’s expecting them to support him.
Instead, he meets with challenges.
“Actually,” Shepard says, “I, for one, am interested in what the souls have to say. Their reflections, though not completely objective, can be nothing less than the truth.”
“I will concede this point,” Azbaugh replies slowly. “But they are also champions of the girl. There is no one here to refute her value.”
Sal clears his throat. “I think that is an indication of the changes RJ has made. After all, her actions made it possible for one soul that harbored ill will toward her to repeat his own life-changing moment and as a result, the boy still walks on the mortal plane.” He looks down at me with a cool smile. “By saving him, she has already made a positive impact on the future of the world. The boy may be destined for greatness that would otherwise have gone unfulfilled.”
“Your sentiment is without proof,” Azbaugh scoffs. “It’s merely speculation, which is exactly why I think we should confine ourselves to what we know to be true.”
Marmaroth interjects, “This has never been about truth, Azbaugh. There is no doubt that this girl has been wronged. This Tribunal has been charged with determining if the positive impact of her return outweighs the negative. The history of the world has already been altered. The question is, will her return be worthy of what has been done. And that is not something that can be judged by truth alone.”
“Since the souls in question currently have access to both timelines of memory,” Zachriel chimes in, “they will be able to provide us with reliable information about changes to her character. This will lend credibility as to her future motives.”
Hold up. Does this mean my Grams has to take the stand and answer questions about how I was in the first timeline and how I am now? I feel a lump form in the pit of my stomach. I don’t think I can handle hearing what she, or Madeline for that matter, has to say. I’m not the only one who’s surprised by this suggestion. Judging by the quick glance Sal gives Zachriel, this is news to him, too.
Azbaugh has that puppy-kicking look again. “This is ridiculous,” he says, the muscles in his neck throbbing.
“Look, Azbaugh,” Death Himself’s voice booms behind me. I spin around to find him lounging in a chair next to Angelica. When did he get here? “It’s not that hard,” he continues. “You let a few souls talk, you listen, you decide if a valid case has been made for RJ to return to the land of the living.”
The Angel of Judgment taunts him, “And why would I listen to you? Your position does not award you any power in this chamber. The memories will provide us with all the information we need. Your services are no longer required.”
“Actually,” Death Himself says, rising to his full height, “that’s not true. You see, you may have the memories of the experience RJ had on Earth, but those she obtained while here are not part of her permanent memory and as such Zachriel is unable to access them.”
“This is true,” Zachriel pipes up, and Azbaugh studies him through suspicious eyes.
Azbaugh shakes his head. “And why would these be relevant?”
“I’m glad you ask,” Death Himself says with his familiar cocky grin. “While they will not remain a part of her memory, they may become part of her subconscious.”
“Get to the point,” Azbaugh spits.
“Only those present at the time of the tests can vouch for immediate changes to her character. Combined with Zachriel’s assessment, I believe you will have a full understanding of how RJ has not only met the challenge placed before her by this Tribunal, but has exceeded all expectations.”
There is a murmur of support from the room. I hide a grin behind my hand.
“Enough!” Azbaugh roars. “We do not need to waste time with personal accounts. Let us take a look at her Akashic Records. If she has truly changed her life, all the answers to our questions will be found there.”
“We can’t,” Sal states matter-of-factly.
Azbaugh looks like he could shoot fire from his eyes. “And why is that?”
Sal sits up a little straighter. “They’ve been sealed, pending the outcome of this review.”
“Oh really?” Azbaugh snarls. “By whom?”
The doors of the Hall swing open, crashing into the pillars. I look up, expecting the ceiling to come crashing down as a result of the force. Striding down the aisle, his millions of eyes looking around wildly, is Azrael.
“By me.”
Chapter 23
The entire audience gasps at the same time. I hear a hundred voices whispering his name as he strides by me.
“This Tribunal set a task before the human soul and you will give her a fair chance to stake her claim,” his voice booms.
I want to stand up and cheer, but he turns to me and I can’t move. “You also have a responsibility to determine whether her efforts are worthy of an unprecedented reward. If you grant it, you accept that there may be future claims from others who feel they were unjustly collected.”
The lump in my stomach doubles inside and the urge to celebrate disappears. So that’s what this is about. No one wants to be the first to set precedence. Especially one that involves upheaval in the Afterlife.
His next charge takes aim at Death Himself. “I have a sneaking suspicion this is not the first time an error of this type has happened and I daresay it is unlikely to be the last.”
He doesn’t wait for a response and Death Himself doesn’t attempt to offer one. Instead, Azrael turns back to the Tribunal and adds, “But, my Brothers, do not let that be your guiding motivation in your decision. You are right to say this is not a court of law.” Azbaugh looks smug. “It is much greater. It is one of humanity. Do not discount the testimony of those who have first-hand experience with it.”
And that’s it. Azrael delivers his cryptic warning, then marches down the aisle and out the doors. After what seems like forever, the room erupts as everyone starts talking about the surprise appearance.
“Did that really just happen?” a soul nearby asks.
“Azrael just laid down the law,” another confirms.
My head begins to swirl as the chorus of voices grows louder.
“I’ve never seen anyone talk to Azbaugh like that. It was great.”
“He deserves it. Who is he to bully that girl?”
I plug my ears with the tips of my finger, trying to drown out the noise.
But one voice can be heard over every other. “Silence!” Azbaugh bellows. His face is bright red, and if I thought he was against me before, now it’s not even a question. Sal better figure out a way to get me out of this mess.
When everyone is quiet, Azbaugh closes his eyes. The next time he speaks, his voice is tight with control. “We will begin. I will hear from witnesses, but only from those who have had substantive interactions with Ms. Jones since her arrival. Once that is done, I will ask for Zachriel to sort through the new memories and determine if they are likely to guide future actions in a positive and, more importantly, productive direction. The Tribunal reserves the right to question all witnesses before they are dismissed.”
Sal speaks up quickly. “That’s sounds fair and just, Brother.”
“I have no objection,” Zachriel says.
After the public chastising from Azrael, Azbaugh looks a little less full of himself, but not much. “Salathiel, you may begin.”
Sal slips around the table and turns to face the crowd. “I would like to call Angelica to give her witness.”
All eyes
follow Angelica as she walks gracefully to the waiting chair. There’s no need for anyone to swear an oath since perjury is impossible.
“Angelica,” Sal begins, sounding like any number of lawyers on TV, “were you acquainted with RJ during both timelines?”
“Yes,” she says, looking directly at me. “She was my daughter’s best friend.”
“You were also her guide for the first task of her test, correct?”
Again she answers, “Yes.”
“How would you describe RJ during each of the time frames that you knew her?”
Angelica gives Sal a questioning look. “Are you talking about the time I was alive?”
He nods.
“She was exactly the same. A little shy at first, somewhat timid, but when she and Abby were together, it was like someone set off a giggle bomb.”
“When did that change?”
Sadness floods Angelica’s delicate features. “The night I died, I suppose. Obviously I wasn’t there anymore.”
“I believe your witness should only encapsulate the time you were alive,” Azbaugh directs.
Angelica doesn’t look at Azbaugh but instead waits for Sal to continue. “At what point did you next come into contact with RJ?” he asks.
“I was her first guide,” she answers.
“How did that come to be?”
Angelica looks over my shoulder before answering. “Death Himself asked if I would help him on a special assignment. He said there was a girl whose soul was collected prematurely and he wanted to know if I would assist her in the task the Tribunal has assigned.”
“And what did you say?”
“Well, obviously I said yes or I wouldn’t be here now.”
There is a light ripple of laughter behind me and even Sal smiles. “Of course. Did Death Himself tell you who the girl was?”
Angelica shakes her head. “No, and I didn’t ask.”
“When did you realize who RJ was?” Sal asks, his wings spreading just enough so he doesn’t sit on them as he leans against the table.
It's a Wonderful Death Page 14
