The Djinn left the room without protest and Brine turned again to Travis. “I think you found the woman you’ve been looking for,” he said. “Amanda and Effrom Elliot were married right after he returned from World War One. They get their picture in the local paper every year on their anniversary—you know, under a caption that reads, ‘And they said it wouldn’t last.’ As soon as the king is ready we’ll go over there and see if we can get the candlesticks—if she still has them. I need your word that I can trust you not to try to escape.”

“You have it,” Travis said. “But I think we should go back to Jenny’s house—be ready when Catch returns.”

Brine said, “I want you to try to put Jenny out of your mind, Travis. That’s the only way you’ll regain control of the demon. But first, there’s something you ought to know about her.”

“I know—she’s married.”

“No. She’s Amanda’s granddaughter.”

28

EFFROM

Never having died before, Effrom was confused about how he should go about it. It didn’t seem fair that a man his age should have to adapt to new and difficult situations. But life was seldom fair, and it was probably safe to assume that death wasn’t fair either. This wasn’t the first time he had been tempted to firmly demand to speak to the person in charge. It had never worked at the post office, the DMV, or return counters at department stores. Perhaps it would work here.

But where was here?

He heard voices; that was a good sign. It didn’t seem uncomfortably warm—a good sign. He sniffed the air—no sulfur fumes (brimstone, the Bible called it); that was a good sign. Perhaps he had done all right. He did a quick inventory of his life: good father, good husband, responsible if not dedicated worker. Okay, so he cheated at cards at the VFW, but eternity seemed like an awfully long sentence for shuffling aces to the bottom of the deck.

He opened his eyes.

He had always imagined heaven to be bigger and brighter. This looked like the inside of a cabin. Then he spotted the woman. She was dressed in an iridescent purple body stocking. Her raven-black hair hung to her waist. Heaven? Effrom thought.

She was talking on the phone. They have phones in heaven? Why not?

He tried to sit up and found that he was tied to the bed. Why was that? Hell?

“Well, which is it?” he demanded.

The woman covered the receiver with her hand and turned to him. “Say something so your wife will know you’re okay,” she said.

“I’m not okay. I’m dead and I don’t know where I am.”