Colin knelt down and actually put his knees right on the grass—which suggested Heaven had Clorox bleach in its laundry room. “I’m rather proud of you, mate.”

“As are we.” Bertie stroked his wolfhound’s head. “You succeeded marvelously.”

“Marvelously indeed.” As Byron nodded, his rose-colored glasses winked in the diffused light. “But then I knew you were going to choose wisely. All along, I was sure, yes, I was.”

Jim focused on Colin. “What else are you guys hiding from me.”

“I’m afraid things are on a need-to-know basis, dear boy.”

Jim let his head fall back on his spine and he stared at the milky blue sky that seemed at once miles away and close enough to touch. “You don’t by any chance know a fucker named Matthias, do you.”

As a soft breeze rolled on by and rustled through the blades of grass, the question went unanswered, so Jim struggled to get to his feet. When Bertie and Byron leaned in to help him, he put them off even though his ass was about as steady as a pencil standing on its eraser.

Jim knew what was next. Another assignment. Seven souls out there and he’d saved one…or was it two?

“How many more do I have to take care of?” he demanded.

Colin swept his arm over to the left. “See for yourself.”

Jim frowned and looked to the castle. On the top of its towering wall, curling in the breeze, was a massive triangular flag in brilliant red. The thing was incredibly bright, as vivid as the green of the grass, and as it waltzed in the breeze, he was transfixed.

“That is why we wore pastels,” Nigel said. “Your first flag of honor is unfurled and nothing save the grass of the earth here should rival it.”

“That’s for Vin?”

“Yes.”

“What’s going to happen to them?”

Byron spoke up. “They’re going to live out their days in love, and when they come herein, they shall spend an eternity together in joy.”

“Provided you don’t cock things up with the other six,” Colin interjected, getting up. “Or quit.”

Jim leveled his finger at the guy like it was a gun. “I don’t quit.”

“We shall see…we shall see.”

“You are such a prick.”

Nigel nodded gravely. “He very much is.”

“Because I am logical?” The angel didn’t seem concerned at all—or a’tall, as he would say—with the label. “There is a point in every endeavor when one feels the burn of too many vertical steps. We have all been there ourselves and so have you. We shall just hope that when you reach that point—”

“I’m not going to quit, asshole. Don’t you worry about me.”