It's a Wonderful Death

by Sarah J. Schmitt

  I want to ask him more and find out how soon Madeline will know if she’s going to be elevated, but the whoosh of wings makes me forget.

  Azbaugh’s voice can be heard before his form is visible.

  “We’ve reached our decision.”

  Chapter 29

  Silence doesn’t even begin to describe the sound in the room once the wings become still. I search each face of the Tribunal, hoping for some indication of how they’re going to cast their vote, but each member reveals nothing—not even a hint of where they stand on the issue of my fate.

  “That was fast,” I whisper to Sal, who shakes his head.

  “Not as fast as I thought it would be.”

  My eyes still on the angels, I ask, “Is that good or bad? Because where I come from, a fast deliberation normally means someone’s about to do jail time.”

  Sal doesn’t answer. And I’m not sure if that’s because he doesn’t know or he doesn’t want to tell me.

  I start to stand, like they do in the courtroom shows on TV, but Sal reaches out to stop me. He probably thinks I’m going to say something to get myself in trouble. Joke’s on him. I’m pretty sure if I try to say anything, I’m going to throw up all over the place.

  “We have heard compelling testimony,” Azbaugh begins. “Some of it has been revealing, though it is my opinion that most of it has been emotional fluff. And while truthful, it does not instill me with the belief that setting a precedent of undoing death in such a manner is either wise or responsible. I also recognize that, by voting against this appeal, I am setting in motion changes that have long-reaching effects, but I believe that they will all work out in the end just as they are meant to.” He looks directly at me when he delivers his verdict. “My decision is that we should not return Rowena Joy Jones to her timeline.”

  A chorus of disagreement meets his ruling, but all I can hear is the sound of the air being sucked out of the room. Sal touches my hand and I look up at him, my peripheral vision blurring until I can only see his mouth moving.

  “We knew that was coming. There are still two others,” he says. And then he turns back to the dais.

  Azbaugh raises his hand for silence and though it takes a little longer than before, everyone eventually complies. “Shepard, please deliver your ruling.”

  Shepard, whose contribution to the Tribunal’s inquiry has been minimal to this point, steps up, his voice ringing out clear as a crystal blue lake. “While I respect my Brother’s decision, I do not share it. I think RJ has shown great strength of character in not only achieving the objectives set before her by this Tribunal, but also in her decision to pursue this matter in the first place. It takes much courage to stand up and demand something be done to right injustice.” He smiles at me before continuing. “I do not doubt RJ has learned much, both through the tests and through interaction in the Afterlife. I do not share the belief that a human soul will be completely stripped of experiences when they cross from the mortal realm to the immortal and vice versa. I believe the core of what makes RJ who she is can only be made better by her time up here.” He pauses to scan the audience. “Finally, human souls and angels alike have given witness to the power of RJ’s future. In their own way, the Akashic Records have acknowledged the intricate nature of life and how we are all connected. I don’t think RJ is special because the outcome of this Tribunal leaves so many other lives in limbo. After all, what is it they say on Earth? If a butterfly flaps its wings in one corner of the planet, does it not change the weather patterns somewhere else?”

  There is a smattering of laughter but Shepard continues. “The human experience, their very existence, depends on their interconnectedness to each other. To knowingly rip those threads apart just because we don’t like the issues in front of us is both childish and unrefined.”

  My jaw drops. Did Shepard just call Azbaugh out? I hope I don’t forget that if I’m sent back to the mortal world. It has to be one of the most epic moments in the history of, well, history.

  Azbaugh looks like he could spit nails but Shepard pays him no attention. “It is for this reason that I vote in favor of this appeal. I believe any other decision is reckless and unjust.”

  Wow. Remind me to look for Shepard if I ever need an angel backing me up. He might appear serene and pleasant, but he has no problem landing some nice sucker punches.

  The room erupts in applause and Shepard looks around with genuine surprise. He smiles at the crowd and then at me. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sal breathe a sigh of relief. Of course this means that everything rests on the decision of Marmaroth. Even now I can’t get a read on him but that’s not a surprise. I think angels tend to play their cards pretty close to the vest. Or robe.

  Azbaugh looks expectantly toward the last member of the Tribunal. “What say you, Brother?”

  Marmaroth stares at me for a long while. As each second ticks by, I begin to sink farther into the back of my chair. His decision is the only thing standing between me and my life. The better life. The life I actually want to go back to.

  Finally, he speaks. “This is a very difficult decision. On one hand, Salathiel has given us a very compelling case. And I must admit RJ’s performance in her test has exceeded my expectations. On the other hand, to mess with time is dangerous. If I were to have it my way, the issue would never have come to this. Perhaps someone else will find the cure for cancer. Perhaps not. As an angel, I do not concern myself with the issues facing the human race.”

  I fight back a wave of nausea. This is not going well.

  “I am responsible for the passage of time, not what happens in it,” he adds.

  Yep, definitely not going well at all.

  He continues, “But my opinion on this matter is also irrelevant. It is not for me to force my will on others.” I perk up. “Azrael commanded we listen to this child’s claim of injustice. She has given us ample proof that she is of stronger character than perhaps we first thought. The adaptation to her second timeline and the ease with which she changed the passing of her life gives me hope that greater things are yet to come from her life.”

  I resist the urge to high five Sal, who probably wouldn’t know what I was doing anyway. The ping-pong match over my future still is making my head swim, but I think Marmaroth is on my side after all.

  “However, the fact that her Akashic Records are sealed is troubling,” he continues.

  Maybe not. The match continues.

  “If I am going to put my trust in the human child, I wish it were not on blind faith. But then again, is that not why we exist in the first place? Because we have faith to believe there is something more, something greater than ourselves?”

  If they send me back, I have to remember never to take a philosophy class. I hear rustling behind me and I know I’m not the only one wishing he would just get it over with already.

  “Yes, this is a difficult decision,” Marmaroth says with a click of his tongue.

  Azbaugh isn’t looking so confident now. “But a decision you must give,” he leads.

  “As I am well aware,” Marmaroth snaps. “You make an excellent point about establishing precedent, but I will not be rushed on this matter.” He looks thoughtfully toward the ceiling. “If only there were some way we could see what her life has in store for her. It’s undoubtedly changing, even as we speak.” He looks at Sal. “Is there no way?”

  Sal shakes his head. “I am sorry, but RJ’s records are sealed until the moment she returns to the mortal plane or the time of her natural death.”

  “On Azrael’s command, I assume?”

  “Of course.”

  Wow. For a guy who hardly said two words during the proceedings, he sure has a lot of questions now.

  Marmaroth looks over Sal’s head. “Death Himself, I seek your counsel.”

  “And you shall have it,” is the reply. My eyes follow Death Himself as he strides toward the dais, stopping in front of Marmaroth. “How may I assist you?”

  The formal tone sounds ou
t of place when coming from a man in clothes fit for a luau. But Marmaroth doesn’t seem to care. “This issue before us is a result of an error by one of the Grim Reapers, correct?”

  “It is,” Death Himself concedes. “I accept full responsibility and I’m going to great lengths to make sure it does not happen again.”

  “Yes, yes,” Marmaroth says, dismissing the humility. “You have a vested interest in the outcome of this, I would assume.”

  “I do.”

  “And what outcome do you think will serve us all best?”

  Death Himself casts a sideways glance at Azbaugh. “There is only one among us who will be better served if RJ does not return to the new timeline, and he has made his position perfectly clear.”

  “What makes you say that?” Shepard says, taking notice of the carefully chosen words.

  Death Himself stands a little straighter. “I have it on good authority that Azbaugh is eager to wield judgment first hand. He has been looking for a way to usurp my authority over the dead for some time now.”

  Marmaroth shoots a suspicious look at Azbaugh. “Is this true, Brother? Are your intentions less than pure?”

  “They have been and always will be for the greater good,” is all Azbaugh says.

  Am I the only one who notices he doesn’t answer the question?

  Marmaroth looks back to Death Himself. “These are serious accusations,” he says, leaning forward.

  “Yes, Marmaroth. They are serious indeed. This is why I must come forth with all the facts now.” He turns toward Azbaugh, who looks like he wants to leap across the dais and strangle Death Himself.

  “Are you prepared to offer proof to support your claim?” Shepard interjects.

  “I am. However, these proceedings are neither the time nor place. RJ deserves her verdict to be untainted by our ethereal squabbling.”

  Marmaroth nods slowly, his eyes turning toward me again. “And you believe the girl will continue the changes that have begun even when she leaves this realm and the memories fade?”

  “I do,” Death Himself confirms with a swift nod, and I think he really means it.

  Turning to look at me again, Marmaroth, without emotion, says, “I agree.”

  Wait a minute. Did I just win?

  Chapter 30

  Judgment Hall erupts in pandemonium. I’m going back! I’m going to see my family and my friends again! I’m going to eat popcorn and watch movies and feel the sun on my face. I can’t believe it.

  Before the mob of well-wishers descend upon me, Sal rushes us back through the little door to the side of our table. This time, instead of a small room, I find myself back in the confines of Azrael’s office. Death Himself is already there.

  Azrael looks up with his millions of eyes and says, “Is it done?”

  Sal gives a quick nod and then promptly disappears.

  “Where did he go?” I ask.

  Death Himself shakes his head. “He is of no benefit to you now. He has done his part to represent you but he has other work to do.”

  “When will this matter be completed?” Marmaroth asks.

  “Soon,” Azrael replies. “We must decide when the best time will be. Her return must be seamless but we must allow for her body and soul to acclimate. Suggestions?”

  “Well, obviously it should be when she is alone,” Death Himself asserts.

  “Agreed,” Marmaroth seconds. “But near the date of her collection. We want to make sure her memories are fully restored.”

  I look between the three of them and it dawns on me that I’m in the middle of an Afterlife war room.

  Azrael looks back down at his desk. “I trust you will make sure the plan goes off without a hitch.”

  Marmaroth nods, accepting the responsibility. Azrael then turns to Death Himself. “And I see you couldn’t refrain from exposing Azbaugh’s plans.”

  “I was asked a question. I answered it. I couldn’t exactly lie in Judgment Hall.”

  “No,” Azrael replies, a growl emanating from his throat. “But you didn’t have to be so honest.” He pauses, looking at me. “Never mind,” he says, shaking his head. “What’s done is done. Back to the girl. Let’s intersect her early in the morning on the day she originally met the Reaper. If we’re lucky, she’ll think this is all some dream and forget everything she’s seen.”

  “But I don’t want to forget,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. If Azbaugh and his self-important power trip frightens me, then Azrael conjures up almost enough terror to bring on a heart attack.

  “You have been catered to enough, human,” Azrael says, his eyes—the ones that belong to him and him alone—turning black as coal. “And you would be well advised not to ask for any more favors.” He begins to walk toward me and I back up until I bounce off the chest of Death Himself. “Furthermore, when your life is over and you return here to learn your fate, I suggest you do everything you can to avoid me. You have been a thorn in my side long enough. Understand?”

  I nod my head, wishing Azrael would turn into his less disgusting form. Having the eyes of every soul on Earth looking at me isn’t something I could ever want to get used to. “Yes,” I say but have to choke out the word.

  “Good,” Azrael snarls. “The Afterlife is in chaos thanks to you. The Lobby, which is normally the quietest place around, is abuzz with stories of your refusal to accept your end. Of course, none of them mention the role the Grim Reaper played. No, they only talk about how you didn’t want to go quietly into the light. The sooner you’re gone, the sooner this world can get back to normal.”

  No wonder most of the people in charge around here hate me. I had no idea how much trouble wanting to set things right might cause. I start to apologize when Death Himself puts his hand over my mouth. He moves me out of the way, placing his body between mine and Azrael.

  “I will see that she is on the next available train to the mortal realm,” he assures Azrael. “Yeats will escort her on the return journey. When he returns, I will notify you.”

  “And Hazel?” Azrael asks.

  Death Himself shakes his head. “Hazel is no longer on the Guardian path. She has taken a position more suited to her particular skill set.”

  “Meaning?”

  “She is now ferrying the souls of the newborns to their new lives on Earth.”

  Azrael gives a quick nod of approval. “She will do well there. Is there anything else we need to discuss regarding this matter?”

  “I do not believe so.”

  “Wonderful. I trust you and Marmaroth will be able to coordinate the reentry without any further issues.”

  Death Himself bows. “Of course.”

  I’m ushered out quickly and Death Himself closes the door firmly behind him. “Do you ever think that staying quiet would be the best thing for you?”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” I say. And I really am. “It’s just that I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to be the girl I was before. That mean girl who didn’t care about anyone other than herself. I want to be good. Like Madeline.”

  Death Himself throws back his head and howls in laughter. I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s so funny?”

  “My dear girl, you will never be like Madeline.”

  “Hey,” I say, defensively. “I could be.”

  “No chance,” he says. “She is a special soul, sent to change the world through her death. Even if you really wanted to, and I have a sneaking suspicion you don’t, you could never be like her. From what I can tell, you are meant to change the world through your life, but the gentleness that she possesses, the part of her that has not become blackened by greed or lust or any of the other deadly sins, is already out of your reach.”

  “Thanks,” I say, not even trying to hide my hurt feelings. Seems like no matter what, I’m doomed.

  Death Himself rolls his eyes. “I forget how sensitive humans are. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. But it’s a fact. Your contribution to the human race comes from the things you will experi
ence. You have to get knocked down from time to time so you can serve as a living testament that you can always, no matter what, get back up and soldier on.”

  “So, I’m already damaged goods?”

  Death Himself nods. “Pretty much. I could send you all the way back to your birth, but it wouldn’t matter. The life journey path you are on and the one Madeline has completed are different. They always have been. Just be glad your journeys ran together for a while. In all honesty, she’s a huge part of why the Tribunal listened to your appeal in the first place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs. “I probably shouldn’t say anything, but since you’ll forget about this by the time you wake up, what the heck. You know that little party you and your friends threw during the first timeline? The one paid for with the money raised to help Madeline’s family out?”

  I groan. “How could I forget? I still can’t believe I did that.”

  “Well, lucky for you, you didn’t. Not the second time at least. In the first timeline, after the party, when Madeline found out what you and your friends did, her heart was broken. Not for herself, of course, but for her parents. She couldn’t believe people would pretend to care about her, about her family, and then steal from them. She 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.”