He could feel the blood flowing even more freely now, out his nose and his ears. Around the back of his neck.
Zane had never been a particularly religious man. He’d long ago forgotten how to pray and he’d never been a churchgoer. He’d sworn when the time came he would accept his death the same way he lived his life—taking responsibility for himself. But still, now that the time had come, he found himself asking for a little help from a higher power. For himself, and for Rosemary.
He wished it hadn’t gone down this way. That she wouldn’t be the one to find him, and have to live with that image forever. He would liked to have given her that much, at least, but it wasn’t to be, because, as if his thoughts had summoned her, she stood in the kitchen entryway now wearing only his T-shirt, her hair tousled and her green eyes huge and frightened.
He had to give her credit. Her shock lasted only a moment, and then she was in motion, grabbing a cushion from a chair and propping it under his head, a dish towel from the refrigerator door to hold under his nose. Then she was up and running.
“Nine-one-one. I’ve got to call nine-one-one.” She looked around, then at him. “Where’s the phone?”
His voice came out thick, choked. “No. No call.”
“Damm it, Zane, don’t give me that! You need an ambulance. Where is the phone?”
He shook his head slowly. It was easier than talking. “No hospital. Don’t want to die like that.”
“You’re not going to die.”
Even as she said it, he could see in her eyes that she knew it wasn’t true.
“Have a…DNR order on file anyway. Do Not Resuscitate. Nothing they can do.”
She squatted by his side, fists clenched on her knees and tears in her eyes. “Don’t ask me to do this. Don’t ask me to sit here and watch you die.”
“Okay.” He struggled to a sitting position, his hands braced on the floor behind him. His head was still pounding, but he felt stronger. “Don’t sit. Doctor said I might have a few hours once it started. Don’t want to waste them. Let’s go somewhere.”
She laughed sardonically. “Go where? Out to dinner and a movie? You’re bleeding.”
He thought fast, but speaking was more of an effort. His tongue weighed almost too much to lift. “Out in the desert. My truck. Beautiful out there at night.”
“You really are insane.”
He looked up at her and knew his eyes were pleading, even if his words never would. “Every second,” he said. “Full throttle.”
She struggled with herself visibly, but in the end she did as he bade, as he’d known she would. The flow of blood had subsided to a slow trickle for now, so she wrapped him up in a blanket, handed him towels in case the hemorrhaging started again, and helped him into his truck.
He gave her a queer look when she hesitated before putting the key in the ignition. “Do you know how to drive?”
She searched her mind. The information would be there, given to her by the Father when she took human form, as was all information she would need to complete her task. “Yes.”
They rode in silence until they reached a two-lane county road, where Zane pressed the button to roll down the passenger window and leaned his head against the door frame, looking up, enjoying the clear night sky and brilliant stars.
“Don’t worry,” he said when he caught Rosemary throwing him worried glances. “I’m still with you. Just enjoying the view.”
The paved road led into the desert and eventually gave way to dirt. Zane pointed off to the right. “Turn here.”
He smiled when she complied. “Now, go faster.”
The truck bumped over the uneven surface. She gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. “I don’t think that’d be good for—”
He wanted to straighten up, to show her he could take it, but in truth he didn’t have the strength. Instead he beseeched her with his eyes. “I want to feel the wind in my face. Just one more time.”
Her lip trembled and he knew she wanted to refuse, but she stepped on the accelerator anyway. It wasn’t the kind of speed he was used to, but the breeze at least ruffled his hair. He breathed the clean air in deep. It felt good. It felt right.
They drove for almost two hours, speeding up whenever the terrain wasn’t quite so rough. He could tell she was beginning to enjoy the speed. Before long she’d be an adrenaline junkie like him. She’d changed, his girl.
She pointed out a cacti shaped like a bunny rabbit, laughing even while her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. He caught the yellow-eyed glimpses of nocturnal critters getting in a nighttime foray.
Finally his strength waned. She seemed to sense it and pulled near the edge of a plateau facing east, and cut the engine. Scooting across the bench seat, she pulled the blanket from his shoulders and wrapped it around both of them. He shifted his weight away from the window, into her, and rested his head on her shoulder.
“Too bad s’ill drk,” he said drowsily. “Bet s’nrise’ll be pr’ty.”
She sniffed. “I bet it will.”
“Wish coul see’t.”
“You will. It’ll just be a few more hours.”
But he knew he wouldn’t. One last ragged breath was all the time he had. At 11:59 p.m. according to the clock on the dash, he drew it, and let go of life.
Rosemary had no idea how long she sat rocking Zane’s still body in the cab of the pickup, but when she looked up, a blazing pink and yellow morning sky silhouetted the figure of Saint Peter floating beyond the front bumper. His white bartender’s T-shirt had been replaced by cream-colored linen slacks and a loose shirt. The eagle tattoo on his bicep was gone.
Her breath hitched as she looked up at him. “He’s gone.”
“He’s been gone for some time.” His voice surrounded her. Filled her. There was reproach in it, but it was gentle. “Why haven’t you taken his soul yet?”
“He—he—” A tear streamed down her face. The feeling shocked her. So this was what it was like to cry. Painful, and yet oddly comforting. “He wanted to see the sunrise,” she explained, the tears falling in earnest now. “One more time. I—I couldn’t deny him that.”
“Then you have learned your lesson well.” Peter smiled patiently as his image faded to dust and only his voice remained. “Let him see it.”
She stared questioningly at the empty space where he had been.
His last words seemed to reach her from far away. “The power is in you.”
Eyes wide, she slowly gathered Zane close and laid her palm flat on his cool chest. Almost instantly his eyes opened and found her gaze. His face was relaxed, pain-free as he looked out the wind-shield at the morning sky.
She felt the angelic glow envelop her, the weight of wings folded on her back.
Finally Zane turned to her, and she could see in his eyes that her true self had been revealed to him. “So,” he said, his voice calm as if they’d been discussing flower arrangements. “Not my guardian angel, then.”
“No. I am the angel of death. I’ve come to save you. Your soul, that is.”
“Thanks for waiting. For letting me see this.” He nodded at the windshield.
Her chin trembled. “You can see as many sunrises as you want where I’m taking you. You can be the sunrise. You can have anything you want….”
“All I want is you.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “I love you, Rosemary.”
She held him tighter, choking back a sob. “I love you, too.”
With her head tipped down, she looked up at him through wet lashes and linked one hand with his. “Follow me?”
He lifted her chin and his index finger uintil their gazes met. “Anywhere.”
“Every angel has to have a purpose, Zane,” Saint Peter said. “Ever-lasting existence would get pretty boring without one.”
Zane propped his booted feet up on the gatekeeper’s desk, earning himself a raised eyebrow. “And you think I should be the inspiration man.”
“You’ve inspired people with your cou
rage for years. You’re a natural.”
“And while I’m busy inspiring people, I can take human form?”
“From time to time, if it’s necessary.”
“And while I’m in human form I can do anything I used to? Fly an airplane? Jump out of an airplane?”
Peter smiled smugly. Should saints be smug?
“You won’t even need a parachute. Of course if there’s something else you’d rather do, you can. You can have whatever you want.”
“I want Rosemary.”
Saint Peter sighed. “We’ve been over this. You can have anything you want. Not anybody.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You can’t have another angel. End of story.”
“But I need a partner. What do I know about this angel cra—I mean business.”
“You’ll do fine.”
“I’d do better with Rosemary.”
“She’s the angel of death. How is that going to inspire people?”
“Maybe it’s time she changed departments.”
Peter drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Angels do not change departments.”
“Why not? Why’d you let her hook up with me anyway? She could have just taken me when I crashed into the lake.”
“She had a lesson to learn.”
He cocked his head. “What’s that?”
“She had taken many souls. She’d led so many away from pain and suffering to a better place that she’d forgotten how important life is. How precious. She’d lost her empathy for the souls she brought home.”
“So you reminded her how precious life is only to yank it out of her hands once she’s held it?” He dropped his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “Seems kind of harsh.”
Peter leaned back, considering. If Zane hadn’t known better, he’d have said the man was flustered by the color that suddenly spotted his cheeks. “You may have a point.”
“So you’ll give it a try? Letting Rosemary work with me?”
Peter paused then sighed heavily. “On a conditional basis.”
“Woo-hoo!” Zane lurched out of his chair and was out the door before the boss could change his mind. In the hall, he found Rosemary anxiously awaiting the decision and scooped her into his arms. “He said ‘yes’!”
Her smile was pure heaven.
He lifted her off her feet, crushed her to his chest and kissed her.
“I love you, Rosie,” he said.
Against his neck, he felt and heard her heartfelt, “I love you, too.”
From the door of his office, Saint Peter watched Zane and Rosemary practically skip down the hall, hand in hand. They were going to be trouble, those two. If a pair of angels could make a saint’s life hell, they were bound to do it.
And still he smiled.
Demon's Delight Page 28
