The Hall is a bit like a human cathedral, but the proportions are so extreme, it’s obvious that earthly concerns like gravity, mass, and tensile strength didn’t come into the equation; a tower of nearly pure light, with only enough spiderweb-thin structure to let you know you’re inside something. At the center of it, surrounded by a space where literally hundreds of thousands could gather even under earthly constraints, stands a massive pillar of liquid crystal—liquid because it’s moving, crystal because it’s moving so slowly you’d never know it if you didn’t know it, if you see what I mean. This diamond waterfall with a zillion internal facets is called the Paslogion, and it’s a sort of clock, I think, or at least it represents the same kind of idea. As to how to read it, don’t ask me. I don’t know if it really even works or if it’s just some kind of big decoration like the Eiffel Tower or the Statue of Liberty. I do know it’s one of the most awesome things I’ve ever seen. Just looking at it, you feel that if you did understand it, you’d understand pretty much everything about how the entire cosmos works, and that infinity probably sounds like the entire catalogue of J. S. Bach all played at the same time and yet totally in harmony.
All of this grandeur might have been less daunting if something was already going on when we appeared inside the Judgement Hall. But instead the place was empty except for me, Temuel, and the awesome Paslogion.
“And here I leave you.” Without any more warning than that, Temuel vanished. I couldn’t help wondering why he was in such a hurry to get out of there, and I couldn’t come up with any happy answers.
It’s hard to think negative thoughts in Heaven. Most of the time I’m there I feel like a baby seal brutally clubbed by joy, but I confess, my thoughts about Temuel going off and leaving me by myself were less than charitable.
What about the consolation of religion for the condemned man, I wondered. Isn’t somebody supposed to at least hold my hand while I wait to be executed? But if my superiors were finally going to clean up the mess I’d always been, why bother to bring me all the way here and then not even gather an audience? It would be easy enough to switch me off; for Heaven, probably easier than flicking a light switch. Did they just want to remind me how small I was before they stepped on me?
A part of me, of course, was reminding myself over and over and over again that I should never have tried to lie to the higher angels of the Ephorate. Hubris, the Greeks called that. “A dumbshit move,” might be a more contemporary way of putting it.
Then suddenly I was not alone anymore.
“Angel Doloriel,” said the light, in the voice of a sweet child. “God loves you.” It took me a moment to recognize the staggeringly beautiful radiance as Anaita, one of the five high angels who’d somehow been appointed to keep me in line, or perhaps to prepare the way for my removal. “I have been sent to deliver the Ephorate’s judgement.”
I braced myself for whatever was to come.
“But first . . .” she said, and as she hesitated her light dimmed and wavered just the faintest bit, as if she wanted to say something difficult. I’ve never seen a higher angel show any kind of hesitation before, but I didn’t have long to think about it.
“But first,” said another voice, “you realized you had to wait for the rest of the delegation.”
Karael appeared in a burst of golden gleaming.
And now Anaita’s presence definitely guttered. I think I was seeing surprise. That’s something else you don’t expect to see out of any of the higher angels. “Karael?”
“The Ephorate decided we should deliver the judgement together,” he said, becoming a little less of a glow and a bit more of a human shape, or as human as his heavenly form ever got. “But you left before they had completed their deliberations, Anaita.”
“I was . . . unaware.” She was flabbergasted was what she was, or at least I’m assuming that’s how it translated. It was a bit like trying to interpret the body language of a G-type star, but she certainly seemed taken aback. What was going on with these two? Was I witnessing a feud? Or something even stranger? It had certainly seemed like Anaita wanted to tell me something.
“No matter.” Karael spread his fire before me. “The Ephorate continues to be troubled by the events that involve you, Angel Doloriel, but of course the Highest wants only justice. Therefore your judgement has been delayed.”
I didn’t know whether to be outraged or relieved. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means that we are still concerned, but that other matters are calling for our attention,” said Anaita. She didn’t sound happy about it either.
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
old friends
I DIDN’T STAY in the hospital long. Sequoia Medical is short of beds as it is, and since angels heal fast, once they saw how quickly I was getting better they didn’t argue much when I checked myself out. I did get a lecture from one nice young doctor about refraining from active sports and strenuous activity for a while. It wasn’t me she needed to tell, of course, it was the guy with the piranha mouth and the very, very bad attitude.
The police interviewed me about the attack too, but since they thought I was a private investigator working a major insurance fraud, they didn’t kick up too much fuss. Heaven is good with bureaucracy, and I’ve kept my concealed-carry permit active since my Harps days, so I even got my gun back, which I filled with silver as soon as I could get to the rounds I’d left in the Datsun.