Grave Humor

by RJ Blain

  “It’s fine. The mausoleum, as Anwen thinks of it, is properly warded against mortals wandering into it. That won’t stop the perceptive, the determined, or the divine from paying it a visit, but you won’t have random townsfolk walking in at their whim.”

  I frowned. “Wait. What do you mean by taking potential and giving them life?”

  The devil reached over and pressed his finger to my nose. “You’re a potential. Every mortal—and immortal—is a potential. Your seed is a potential that has the opportunity to grow in the right conditions. In your case, your potential bloomed as the universe intended, with the node aiding the efforts. You no longer need the node to reach your full potential; its work is done.”

  “It’s depleted, isn’t it?” Eoghan asked.

  “Not quite, although Azrael’s little display at the cemetery used up most of the excess power it had. It will spend the rest of this emergence recharging, after which you’ll find this property suitable for remaining awake until the next emergence.”

  Eoghan sucked in a breath. “That’s a pretty powerful node, Lucy. I’m usually among the first to go dormant.”

  “I would say it’s less powerful and really good at its one trick. Your Anwen has been grooming it for most of her life without knowing it, and things she likes, it will like—and she likes you. Your range won’t be too far outside of Sunset when this emergence collapses, but I think you’ll find the restrictions tolerable.”

  I’d been doing what to the node? I tossed a melon rind at the devil, smacking him in the head with it. “I have not been grooming anything!”

  “Wrong type of grooming,” Darlene said with laughter in her voice. “He means you’ve kept the node company, and it likes you. That’s all. He wasn’t trying to be a pervert this time. Usually, he does—but not this time. That might be a miracle.”

  The devil rubbed his forehead where I’d hit him with the rind. “You’re such a pervert, Anwen.”

  My face flushed. “I am not!”

  “You’re the one who assumed I meant you were sexually grooming and potentially assaulting a node.”

  I grabbed my next slice of honey rock, devoured it in record time, and flung the rind at the devil. “You’re evil.”

  Rather than allow it to smack him in the head again, the devil caught the projectile and set it on the cutting board. “And you have good aim with those melons. You should save some of that as ammunition for when Hammel arrives.”

  “Why would I at all share my honey rocks with him? He might get to enjoy the juice should I hit him with the rind. I should go collect rocks to throw at him.” I grunted. “What am I supposed to do when he gets here? Should I just call the cops and let them deal with him?”

  “You have two facets of death here who would be more than willing to aid you with today’s activities.”

  “Darlene, make him deal with the asshole. I don’t want the asshole ruining our picnic,” I whined.

  The snow leopard tossed her head back and laughed. “You don’t like beating around the bush, do you?”

  “Not if he’s…” I frowned and considered my weed whacker. “Is it possible to kill someone with a weed whacker?”

  “Yes,” the devil replied. “It is absolutely possible to kill someone with a weed whacker, especially if it has been imbued with holy and devilish fire.”

  I turned to Eoghan. “Have you ever killed someone with a weed whacker before?”

  “Until today, I have never seen a weed whacker, so no, I can’t say I’ve killed someone in such a fashion.”

  “We could kill him with the weed whacker,” I suggested.

  “I see you are not very concerned about Hammel’s fate,” Eoghan replied.

  “The fucker tried to kill me. Turnabout is fair play, and I’ve decided I’m meaner than he is. I’ll go back to being shy and nice later, after he’s gone and stops trying to kill me. And he kidnapped me. Two strikes. Three strikes, he’s out—and coming to my property, probably to try to either kidnap or kill me again, is definitely the third strike. I have better things to do than worry about whether or not he is going to try to kidnap or kill me again. Or hit me over the head. Or try to feed me to a vampire.”

  “Or try to feed you to me,” Eoghan added, his tone amused.

  Darlene snickered. “She wouldn’t mind if you—”

  The devil reached over and covered his wife’s mouth. “He’s thousands of years old and very formal, my darling. However willing she may be, let’s not fluster him. That said, Azrael could officiate things to make the next part of her life easier.”

  “Bed her, wed her, and plan to stick around for life because she won’t let death have you, Eoghan,” Azrael suggested.

  “She doesn’t get a say…” Eoghan’s eyes widened, and he gave the archangel his full attention. “You can’t be serious.”

  Azrael shrugged.

  As the antique wasn’t getting a straight answer out of the archangel, he turned to the devil. “You can’t be serious,” he repeated.

  The devil smiled. “I am often serious when I do not appear to be. It is one of my favorite lies.”

  “It really is,” Darlene muttered.

  “I married such a cruel woman. Me. The devil. Brought low by a woman’s spots.”

  “Being brought low sometimes gains you access to those spots you so love. You’ll probably survive. It’ll be a near thing. I’ll just have to take you home with me and keep an eye on you during your severe illness and your recovery.”

  “Can I interrogate him before you take him home?” Eoghan asked.

  “Of course. If you beat him, he can cry about how he was treated so poorly and requires my love to survive. Watching him brought low is one of my joys in life.”

  “Explain yourself, Lucifer!” Eoghan demanded.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with this. It’s the universe’s fault. Blame the universe. Azrael, tell him I’m right.”

  The archangel once again shrugged. “As I cannot lie, I must report he is indeed correct. The universe is to blame for this. The universe planted the seed, the universe provided the conditions needed for the seed to grow, and your awakening has less to do with the magic of this era and more to do with her presence than anything else. More specifically, the first time she approached death’s door in earnest, you awoke. That began the moment that vile human set her on the path that should have led to her death. Instead, she got you. I’m not sure which fate is worse.”

  Ouch. I grinned at the archangel’s disgusted tone. “That was just mean.”

  “But true.”

  I loved archangels. They redefined what it meant to be an asshole, but they were so damned honest about it. “How do you feel about using a weed whacker to kill off a jackass who tried to break the rules?”

  “I would be quite pleased to offer some holy fire to the cause. I would lower the shroud so—”

  “No,” Darlene said, and she pointed at the archangel. “You keep that thing where it belongs!”

  “That thing is my head.”

  “Keep it where it belongs.”

  The devil’s soft chuckle drew my attention to him, and he reached over, snagged his wife by the waist, and dragged her across the blanket onto his lap. “I’ll cover your eyes, my darling. It won’t hurt you to see him. It won’t even hurt your new friend, although her reaction to beholding the heavens is more curiosity than anything else.”

  Darlene’s tail, which had puffed, warned me the incident of seeing her husband’s face had left a mark. “That’s not fair.”

  “Don’t be worried, Anwen. She wasn’t born able to look upon the heavens without consequence, and while she’s capable of withstanding it, her soul remembers.”

  Azrael circled the blanket and stroked his hand over Darlene’s hair. “I can erase the memory if you’d like. He is only willing to meddle so much.”

  “He just likes when I owe Him,” the devil complained.

  “Why do you owe Him?”

  “When my b
rother here slipped and she caught a glimpse of her husband in his full glory, He planted just enough divinity within her soul to allow her to survive. It was not without consequence. Her soul has since been converted, but she still remembers, as her mortal soul is still hers—it is simply more divine and demonic in nature than human.”

  Darlene scowled, and she hid her face against her husband’s chest. “I’m not a coward.”

  “No, you were mortal. Most mortals are immediately slain for beholding the heavens,” the archangel replied.

  Even Michael and Gabriel, who remained silent spectators, fidgeted.

  “And since I’m not precisely mortal, I can see you as you are,” I guessed.

  “Precisely,” Gabriel said, and he sat nearby, reaching over to pick up one of the uncut honey rocks. “This is a divine soul—or a soul that is more than mortal. The outer rind is what protects those of us with it from the reality of an angel’s existence. Or His existence. Comparatively, humans lack the protective rind. They are beautiful but fragile. Divines are less beautiful, but we have the strength and defenses they lack.”

  “You consider yourself to be less beautiful than humans?”

  “Humans are every possibility. That is a thing of beauty. We angels are set in our ways, and change is rare for us. Yes, I consider us to be less beautiful than humans. But they are also frustrating beings, and there are times I do not at all mind they reap what they sow.”

  “Angels are assholes,” Darlene muttered.

  The devil kissed the top of his wife’s head. “That we are, my darling. Would you like to use the weed whacker on that foolish mortal? I know how you enjoy some wholesome carnage.”

  She shook her head. “Anwen should come into her own, but make sure your fire hurts extra. The jerk deserves it. I like existing.”

  “So do we all. I shall make sure her weed whacker becomes a suitable tool of justice.”

  “That sounds so wrong coming from you,” Michael complained.

  I laughed.

  Eighteen

  This really isn’t an efficient weapon.

  I’d seen enough trauma pass through the funeral home to recognize Darlene lived in the past, present in body only. The devil served as a quiet anchor, listening to his brothers discuss their options while waiting for the final player of our twisted game to arrive. Instead of guilt over planning to kill someone, I prepared the weed whacker, removing the protective shield designed to prevent people from turning it into a lethal weapon.

  A gun would have done the job better and more humanely, but I didn’t own a gun and had no idea where to get one. Well, I had a good idea where to get one, but I’d have to go rob my neighbor’s house. He wouldn’t miss a few of his guns. Hell, he might not even notice I’d taken one—or ten—of them.

  “This really isn’t an efficient weapon,” I confessed. “A gun would do a better job. And a quicker job. It would probably do a cleaner job, too.”

  Gabriel joined me, and he touched the weed whacker. The cord burst into blue and white flames. “You will find this contribution to be helpful. His death is both necessary and symbolic. It must be at your hand, too. At your hand means triggered by an action you take. In this case, be it choosing to stand where he will reach his ultimate end, by taking this weapon you’re fashioning and slicing his throat with it or shooting him. For the record, letting the devil do your work would be the most merciful way to kill him, although you will find this weed whacker more efficient than you thought possible. Anything else will prolong that human’s suffering, which you would not enjoy.”

  “Why must his death be at my hands?”

  “You cannot grow into your true self without witnessing a death you ultimately hold responsibility for. Only then will you reach your full potential. It must be a deliberate death, one of your choosing. Essentially, a murder, although this is a deserved one. You will understand soon enough. And Eoghan?”

  Eoghan scowled. “What?”

  “Do try to control your impulse to protect her from what she is, even should his soul scream—or he startle her into screaming.”

  “I hate the screaming,” he muttered.

  I frowned, considered what I knew about Eoghan and his secrets, and asked, “The souls scream upon death, don’t they? And you can hear them. It’s not the literal screaming that bothers you.”

  Eoghan sighed, and Gabriel patted my shoulder. “He strongly dislikes when you scream, although he doesn’t dislike your screams for the same reason he dislikes most screaming. He is concerned you will suffer. He fails to remember you are an entirely unique entity, embodying everything Azrael and he do not.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admitted.

  “You will soon enough. Try your weed whacker out on your yard to amuse yourself—and to understand the power you currently wield.” Gabriel turned to Eoghan. “None of your overprotective whining.”

  “Why do you think I’m going to whine?”

  “You are male and you are invested, but most importantly, you are male. I present my brother as a prime example of what it means to be annoyingly male. However, if you wish to see the devil in all his glory, you would merely have your lady stand somewhere over there.” Gabriel pointed behind the devil. “This Director Hammel would step within his reach and find himself directly escorted to my brother’s many hells. It would also fulfill the condition she holds responsibility for his death. She would merely choose her weapon wisely.”

  Weed whacker or the devil, weed whacker or the devil. How much did I truly hate my former boss?

  Huh. I hated him enough I couldn’t find any disadvantages in allowing the devil to deal with the fool should he at all threaten the snow leopard—or come within reach of her. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?” The archangels laughed, and I started the weed whacker. “Bring it on, you winged menaces.”

  “So vicious,” Azrael said with laughter in his voice. “Are you sure you’re ready for an eternity with her, Eoghan? I could save you.”

  Eoghan picked up a slice of honey rock, raised a brow, and partook of my favorite treat. “I am finding the current situation to be pleasing.”

  “Of course. You discovered there was, in actuality, a soul you did not want to slip from your grasp. Frankly, your bellyaching over it was becoming obnoxious. Not even you can circumvent what we are.”

  I realized the true reason so many had believed I’d struggle with Eoghan.

  He understood he would live forever.

  He understood I would not.

  “You will now,” Azrael promised. “But yes, that was a factor, and an important one. He will still resist your attempts, but he will do so for the love of the game rather than the fear of what he once believed was an inevitability. His is a gentle soul no matter how he postures. Think of it this way. You are a gift from the universe, one meant for Eoghan as much as you’re meant for humanity and this Earth’s many creatures. You serve a purpose, but you were created as a mercy. The universe is many things, but it loves its children—and Eoghan is one of its beloved children. It didn’t put sufficient thought into being stuck with him permanently, but even the universe has its flaws.”

  “Azrael,” Eoghan warned.

  “Eoghan,” the archangel mocked. “You are always so annoying about life and its inevitable conclusion. Even I am capable of understanding the desire for companionship. That is my role, after all. I am a companion through death. You are the welcoming arms of death. You are no different from me beyond how you go about your purpose.”

  “One day, may you get exactly what you deserve,” Eoghan growled out from between clenched teeth.

  “He means a wife and a demon to go with her,” the devil announced. “I can help you with that. I know some excellent incubi who will make even better fathers, and I even have a few defective ones who crave loyalty running around. I’m just not sure how that keeps happening. I should beat it out of them one of these days.”

  “Please, no. I have seen this wife.” Azrael point
ed at me before pointing at Darlene. “I have seen that wife, too. Why would you wish such a thing upon me?”

  The devil laughed. “Because wives are wonderfully fun, even when you wish they didn’t hurt. My wife is a delightful creature, and in reality, I will count her spots for her benefit this evening, however much I will enjoy my manly duties. For all she postures, she enjoys when I count her spots. By nature, she is an affectionate creature, but she had always been taught she could not seek out such affections, as it would require the sacrifice of her pride. She is a work of art, beautiful because of her flaws.”

  I realized the woman had passed out on her husband’s lap, and she purred in her sleep. “That poor woman. Is she all right?”

  “I do not want to erase what has become an integral part of her, although I wish it would not hurt her so much to remember,” the devil admitted. “There are some things even I cannot do.”

  “When young Anwen witnesses death in the flesh, she will be able to close and open that door and make acceptance an easier thing for your kitten,” Azrael promised. “He understood the necessity of what she endured, but it is not His duty to finish healing her soul. You will find your role in the matters of death to be mostly enjoyable, Anwen.”

  “I will?”

  “Yes, you will. You will see soon enough. Test your weed whacker, and see what holy fire can do.”

  Curious over what sort of tool my implement of lawn correction had become, I moved a safe distance from the picnic blanket, revved the motor, and gave it a test swing.