Josh
I might be back in Heaven, but I’d rather be down on Earth with Grace. Her kiss is still on my lips. I run my fingers down my face again, trying to cool down, but it’s almost impossible. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together and it would be so easy to just give up and join her. I might even be able to swing a deal with Lucifer…
No.
I can’t think like that. I groan and fall back on the broken sofa, swearing I can smell her lavender-and-vanilla scent. I can’t give in. I have to do this for Grace. I have to find a way to save both her and Noah. Only, I really don’t think he wants to be saved. And why would he? He’s got everything he wants.
Maybe once Lucifer starts telling him to do increasingly horrible things he’ll grow a conscience? I dismiss the thought immediately. He already killed somebody, and he’s the fucking Antichrist. He’s supposed to rain blood and judgment on the Earth… I can see why Mr. Griffith feels like this is a done deal.
What do I need to save both Noah and the world? I need Noah to have a sudden and very unlikely change of heart. The question is, does he have a heart? And how do I get at it? He has to have some positive feelings about Grace, right? So she really does have the best chance at getting to him. But how? And if I can’t touch him, how do I help? The whole thing gives me a headache.
I stand to stretch, and there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I call. It’s either Mr. Griffith, who’s been too busy to stop in recently, or…
“Hello.” Shona walks in with the giant book tucked in her arms like a baby. “You visited Earth?”
“How did you know that?” I ask, watching her conjure a standing table in the center of my room where she sets the tome gently, despite her thin stature and the obvious weight of the thing.
“Joshua, it’s customary to welcome guests with an invitation to sit and have some form of refreshment. Honestly, we must go over these things if you’re going to save Grace and bring her back up here.”
I roll my eyes at her proper English attitude. “I think we’re past all that, don’t you?”
She grimaces, pulling a cup of tea from the air only to set it on the table as far as possible from the book. “Mmm. I can see the pain on your face. You obviously visited Grace despite my warnings.”
“Am I that transparent?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“’Fraid so. At least you’re still here, which means you did not succumb to her charms. Yet. Now come take a look at this with me. I may have found some other information of interest.”
I approach the table she set up and peer over her shoulder. It feels kind of weird, like we’re reading Mr. Griffith’s diary, though I guess that’s exactly what we’re doing.
“It’s a story regarding Michael and Lucifer, or Luke, as he’s referred to here.”
She flips through the first third of the book with reverence and runs a finger down the worn page to the beginning of a new passage about halfway down and reads:
Father has begun assigning duties to us based upon ability and what He refers to as “personality.” Luke and I have been given the task of dealing with human souls when their Earthly bodies have failed. Luke has named this “death,” which I think is a depressing term for a happy homecoming. Unfortunately this turned into fodder for another of our quibbles.
“They don’t appreciate it,” Luke chided. “They are simple beings and don’t even understand what’s happened. To those left behind, the soul is lost. Though I suppose they will learn the truth in what is the blink of an eye to you and I.”
“To them, that can be most of a lifetime.”
Luke glowered. “Humans are a mistake.”
“Father does not make mistakes,” I said.
“They are purposely imperfect. Why create them?” Luke scoffed.
“They have free will. They will decide their own nature. They will make those decisions over their short times on Earth and join back with us after. We will be in charge of that homecoming. We can make it happy for them while they wait for their families.”
“What if they don’t deserve happiness?” Luke asked, stepping close to me. “What if they choose incorrectly throughout their lives, again and again? I daresay the few that exist thus far have already demonstrated selfish actions.”
I frowned. He pointed out truth. Still… “Luke, they are like children. And children must learn before they understand.”
“Even if the child chooses unforgivably?” he challenged.
“You would have them punished?” I asked.
“I would have them receive what is deserved. Making selfish choices should not give them leave to spend eternity with us, Father’s perfect creatures.”
Shona stops reading.
“Well?” I prompt. “Keep going.”
“That’s all there is in the passage. This whole collection is a million varied bits and pieces. Some of them are simple bits of dialogue or incomplete thoughts. It probably never occurred to him that anyone else would read it.”
I wonder if Lucifer has a similar diary. What would he have written?
“I believe we can surmise the division of Heaven and Hell based on this conversation,” Shona says, carefully shutting the book and sitting on the corner of the couch to sip at her tea.
“What good does that do us?” Am I destined to get my hopes up only to realize I have nothing more than I did before?
Shona cups the tea in her hands like she’s warming them even though the room is far from cold. “There has to be more. Information is always the key to solving a problem.”
I wish I could agree. “There’s got to be a better way.” I rub my hands over my face and through my hair. It’s becoming a nervous habit.
“Perhaps you should try talking to Michael again.” Shona waits, cup poised and ready at her lips.
I want to tell her that it’s crazy to talk to Griffith when he’s the one that sent Grace to Hell and went off the deep end about preparing for the End Times. But the truth is, she’s right. We could study his diary for years and never find out what he could simply tell us if he’d only be straightforward.
“I guess it’s worth a try. I have an appointment with him later. He wanted to show me something. Keep reading the book until then, I guess.”
Shona tosses her cup into the air, where it disappears, and smiles at me. She lifts the giant book with care before leaving.
I flop back down on the couch, running a finger over my bottom lip. “Show me Grace,” I tell the magic screen.
Holy Hell.
Grace appears in the same outfit I saw her in earlier. Something Keira would wear. Her hair’s arranged around her face in ringlets and her eyes are rimmed in thick gold. She’s at a velvet-covered roulette table, hanging all over this good-looking guy. He’s tall with a model face and has big muscles I can see right through his sleeves. Damn. I trust Grace, but that’s not the issue. It’s Lucifer I’m worried about. He’s up to something.
“Time to ask Griffith what he knows?” I ask TT, who stares back at me with big innocent eyes, like he hasn’t the foggiest idea.
Well, that makes two of us.
Maybe Mr. G will get mad and order me to stop helping Grace. That would actually make things simpler, wouldn’t it? I could never stop helping Grace. I’d rather join her in Hell than stay here and pretend to try and forget her.