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Chapters (60)
  1. DAW Books Presents
  2. HAPPY HOURINHELL
  3. Copyright page
  4. Contents
  5. Dedication
  6. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  7. prologue
  8. one
  9. two
  10. three
  11. four
  12. five
  13. six
  14. interlude
  15. seven
  16. eight
  17. nine
  18. ten
  19. eleven
  20. twelve
  21. interlude
  22. thirteen
  23. fourteen
  24. interlude
  25. fifteen
  26. sixteen
  27. seventeen
  28. eighteen
  29. nineteen
  30. twenty
  31. twenty-one
  32. interlude
  33. twenty-two
  34. twenty-three
  35. twenty-four
  36. twenty-five
  37. twenty-six
  38. twenty-seven
  39. twenty-eight
  40. twenty-nine
  41. thirty
  42. thirty-one
  43. thirty-two
  44. thirty-three
  45. thirty-four
  46. thirty-five
  47. thirty-six
  48. thirty-seven
  49. thirty-eight
  50. thirty-nine
  51. forty
  52. forty-one
  53. forty-two
  54. forty-three
  55. forty-four
  56. forty-five
  57. forty-six
  58. forty-seven
  59. forty-eight
  60. epilogue

Normally I keep my mouth shut as much as possible when I’m in Heaven, and Heaven’s atmosphere of slightly dopey satisfaction makes it easy. But normally, I haven’t just been perforated in all kinds of painful places by some kind of zombie hitman and then jerked upstairs to be scolded. “Hey, I’m concerned too. I’m concerned with why it’s supposed to be my fault that these things keep happening to me.” The best defense and all that. Well, I figured it was worth a try. If they weren’t going to terminate my contract, I didn’t think I’d push them into it just by mouthing off, and if they were . . . well, I’d rather vanish from the universal scheme on my feet instead of my knees.

“Understandable,” said Karael. “That is why we have been given this matter for ephoral judgement, Doloriel, to be certain you are treated fairly. I know you want to go back to work.”

What I wanted was to be left alone to figure out what crazy shit I was up to my neck in this time, but what I said was, “Yes, of course. That’s just what I want.”

“But that is just what the Ephorate cannot allow,” Anaita informed me, “at least until we have had time to consider all the complications of this case . . . this . . . situation.” She was definitely putting a spin on it, but was it for my sake or Karael’s? “Your work involves you in too many areas we are still investigating, Doloriel.”

“So what does that mean, my judgement is ‘delayed’? Until when?”

“Until the time arrives,” said Karael in his most infuriating, you-don’t-need-to-know sort of way. Then his voice hardened. It sounded like a healthy echo of the Almighty Himself. “Until that time, Angel Doloriel, you are relieved of your duties as advocate. You may remain here or on Earth.”

I was more than a little shocked, but I knew better than to argue with them. It could have been worse, much worse, and at least this would give me some time to consider my next move. But I had to make a bit of a show. “That’s it? Just suspended or whatever? Until some time in the fuzzy future?”

“You’re too wrapped up in earthly things, Doloriel,” said Anaita. “Time is meaningless outside of mortality.”

“Right.” I was ready to offer grudging acceptance now. “I suppose—”

“There is no suppose,” said Karael. “The Ephorate has decided. We will summon you when it is time. Until then, know that God loves you. Farewell.”

And just like that it was all gone—Karael, Anaita, the Hall of Judgement, the shimmering complexity of the Paslogion. And yours truly was back in his flawed earthly form, which happened to be lying in a hospital bed with a bad case of Smyler Kicked My Ass.

I had been sentenced to freedom. At least for a while.

eight

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