Azazel, Sarahs husband? I doubt it. He hates me.
Azazel doesnt hate anyone. Though if he heard you being rude about Sarah
I wasnt rude, I was envious, I said. So they came and found us and brought us here. How?
He took a sip of wine, stalling.
How?
You know, this is going to take an eternity if you dont manage to infer anything on your own, he said.
All right, Ill infer up the wazoo and you can tell me if Im wrong or right. Im inferring that youre . . . God, some kind of angel. If your job is to collect people and ferry them to the next existence, then thats usually the work of angels, isnt it? At least according to Judeo-Christian mythology.
Judeo-Christian mythology is often quite accurate. Angels escort the souls of the dead in Islam and the Viking religion as well.
So is that what you are? A fucking angel? Is that what all of you are?
Yes.
Somehow I was expecting more of an argument. I dont believe you, I said flatly.
He let out a sigh of sheer exasperation. Youre the one who came up with it.
The problem was, I did believe him. It all made sense, in a crazy-ass way. Which meant all my slightly atheistic suppositions were now out the window, and my mother had been right. That was even more depressing than being dead. And how did they bring us here from the woods? They flew, didnt they?
I told you, I was unconscious at the time. But yes, I imagine they flew.
They have wings.
Yes.
You have wings.
Yes.
That was too much. I dont see them.
Youll have to take it on faith, he grumbled. Im not about to offer a demonstration.
So
Just be quiet for a few minutes, would you? he snapped.
Youre not very nice for an angel, I muttered.
Who says angels are supposed to be nice? Look, its simple. You died in a bus accident. I was supposed to take you to heaven. For some reason you were heading for hell, I experienced a moment of insanity and pulled you back, and now youre stuck. You cant go back. Youre dead, and your body has already been cremated, so I cant return you even if I thought it might be possible. Right now youre here in Sheol with a family of angels and their wives, and youre going to have to put up with it until I figure out what I can do with you.
This doesnt make sense. If Im dead and cremated, why am I here? I looked down at my all-too-corporeal self. Im real, my body is real. I reached up and hugged myself, and his eyes went to my breasts. Real breasts that responded to his look, wanted his touch.
I was losing my mind. First off, I didnt want him touching me. Secondly, last time I checked, my breasts were incapable of thinking. I was the one who wanted him to touch me.
I
was insane.
On this plane you exist and your body is real. Not on the mortal plane. He pulled his gaze away from my body, a relief.
So Im stuck here with a bunch of Stepford wives. Arent there any girl angels?
No.
Well, fuck that! Hasnt God heard of womens lib?
God hasnt heard of anythinghes not involved. Free will, remember?
Male chauvinist asshole.
God isnt male.
Well, he sure as hell isnt female, I snapped. Not that I should have wasted the energy. Judeo-Christian theology was patriarchal and male-centric?
Surprise, surprise.
True enough.
So you live here together in this happy little commune and ferry people to heaven and hell. Isnt that too big a job for the bunch of you? How many people die every minute of every day?
One point seventy-eight per second, one hundred and seven per minute, six thousand four hundred and eight per hour, nearly one hundred and fifty-four thousand per day, fifty-six
Oh, God. I had to be rescued by a pedant. No need to get literalI get the picture. Arent you a little bit overworked?
Most people dont need an escort. He poured himself another glass of wine, then gestured with the bottle toward mine. I shook my head. I was already too rattledI didnt need alcohol making things worse.
Why did I need one? Im no one important, no great villainous mastermind. Dont tell meits because of my mother.
He looked blank for a moment; then realization dawned. Of course he knew about my mother. Your mother has nothing to do with it. I expect someone will be escorting her to hell sooner or later.
Im afraid I was a bad enough daughter to chuckle at the thought. Maybe thats why Id been sent to hell.
I dont know why I was sent to get you any more than you do, he went on in his slightly formal way. Why did Uriel decide you were to go to hell instead of heaven?
Uriel? Hes one of the four archangels, isnt he? Whats he got to say about it?
Id managed to surprise him. How do you know about the four archangels? Most people arent that familiar with biblical history.
I know more than you think, I said. Its part of my job.
Whats your job? He looked blank. Ive forgotten
Im a writer. A novelist.
Maybe that explains why you were going to hell, Raziel said in a wry voice.
Shut up, I said genially. Whats Uriel got to do with who needs an escort or not? I dont remember much of anything specific about himwasnt he the archangel of redemption?