Page 60 of Grave Humor

Right. I danced with the devil. I should have known. “Does Gordon have this same ridge?”

“Of course not. He’s homo sapiens. His sphenoid is present. Do not ask me why humans evolved to have an extra bone in their skulls. Evolution is a strange thing, and He sees no need to circumvent nature’s intent for all He is a controlling divine. Most of the heavenly host enjoys controlling everything within their domain. I enjoy how much it vexes Him to keep his promise to humanity, for them to retain their free will even beyond the End of Days. Humans are delightfully rebellious children.”

If I wanted a straight answer out of the devil, I’d have to ask him directly. “What is the third aspect of Death?”

“Life beyond,” the devil answered. “Azrael ensures the natural order of the universe through death is maintained. The second facet ensures death is there for all. The third is the release from death, and is considered to be the kindest of the three facets; without the third aspect, there would be no life beyond death. In truth, Azrael is less of a shepherd than the third aspect. As far as the aspects go, Azrael is the one who interferes with mortals. The other two aspects exist, although the second aspect is the one that gets the worst reputation of the lot.”

Eoghan scowled. “Azrael picks and chooses.”

The archangel snickered. “I do pick and choose. This is a truth. I safeguard only the souls deserving of Him. I am His mercy in a mortal’s final hour. Some may say this is a cruel thing for those who have not earned His regard. But it is not a precise truth that I often interfere with mortals. Like the other aspects, I merely need to exist for my work to be done. But I do have more freedoms than the others. This is not a bad thing. Death could continue on without me, although it would bring unnecessary hardship to worthy souls.”

I figured Eoghan’s age and his beliefs put him at odds with the archangel, and if given a chance, I’d throw the two together to watch them posture. “Director Hammel wanted Eoghan to bring his wife back to life. Wait, no. I think he wanted the magic involved in wakening Eoghan to accomplish this.”

The archangels cackled their laughter, the devil joined in, and if Eoghan rolled his eyes much harder, someone would have to pick his unconscious body off the floor.

“What’s so funny about that? I mean, it’s not a bad idea. There had to be a lot of magic involved with waking an antique from a bazillion year slumber. And he wanted to raise the three dead in the catacombs. The ones you invoked, Azrael.”

If looks could kill, Eoghan would have escorted me directly to my grave. “A bazillion years? An antique?”

“Well, you are an antique. You’re a nice antique, but you’re definitely an antique.”

Yep, I’d be joining my stray in the doghouse as soon as I got him one.

“The fates,” the Archangel of Death replied. “I invoked the fates from their slumber and released them on this world. They are not what mythology believes; Atropos is not a fate representing death. She truly represents the end of all journeys. Conclusions. Death is an end of a journey, but it’s also the beginning of one. It is but a moment in a mortal’s life. Clotho is the fate he could make the most use of, as she could spin for a new soul a match for the woman he desires. She won’t, though. Every soul is a piece of art, and she celebrates their every flaw. Lachesis would merely snip his thread to draw the attention of one of the aspects of death. Technically, she comes close to violating the universal laws, but she knows her art well—and she knows precisely how to snip a thread to keep from unraveling the whole tapestry of life. They are displeased their hard-earned rest has been disturbed. It was not supposed to be their time. I have tangled their precious weave. But they will also be pleased with me as soon as their annoyance wears off. I have ushered in many new possibilities this era, and they are all creatures who thrive on such possibilities.”

If I kept trying to make sense of what the archangel told me, I’d develop a migraine within the hour. “I don’t think Director Hammel understands who the three in the catacombs are,” I admitted. “I had no idea they were the three fates.”

The devil snorted. “No, Hammel is a rather ignorant fool. He is so determined to reach his goal that he does not care who or what he destroys in the process. I love some good, wholesome destruction, but there is a time and a place for all things. He has no regard for anyone other than himself. I look forward to my time with him in my many hells.”

Right. “I guess that leaves me with my last question.”

“Really? Your last one?” The devil grinned at me. “You are an everlasting fountain of questions. I give it less than five minutes before you have another one. It is your nature to question things.”

I scowled. “What does it mean for us now that all of the aspects of death are awakened?” I considered how the devil addressed the director, and I decided I liked slicing off his title. It transformed him from an authority to something far less than what he’d once been. “Will Hammel’s actions hurt us? Us being the world in general.”

“And while that is technically two questions, it took two questions to the one you really want to know, so I’ll let it slide,” the devil teased. “Hammel, in a strange way, has helped more than he has harmed. He had the greatest capacity for harm, but that future didn’t come to pass. He has the potential to bring harm still, but it is an unlikely fate. What he has done is finish my daughter’s work and has restored death, both the event and the being, to its rightful order. My daughter merely halted what could have become the absence of death, something that would have ushered in the End of Days. It would have taken the end to allow for new beginnings. All life needs a seed, and the fate she prevented would have stopped death itself—and prevented rebirth, too. Her actions allowed death to awaken now.”

Eoghan’s eyes narrowed. “Who sought the absence of death?”

The devil shook his head. “They’re either dead, converted, or enduring eternal torment at the hands of vengeful mummies. They are beyond your reach now.”

Grunting, Eoghan went to the refrigerator, pulled out one of my honey rocks, plunked it onto my cutting board, grabbed my knife, and slammed the blade through the melon, slicing it in half. My brows shot up at the ease he’d cracked the damned thing open. With terrifying accuracy, he took his temper out on my favorite treat, and when he had sliced it into edible portions, he grabbed a plate, loaded it up, and put it on the table. “These are Anwen’s. Should you try to touch them, I will cut your hands from your wrists and feed your blood to Gordon.”

Okay. The archangels, the angel, the devil, and anyone else in my house needed to leave so I could make an attempt to lure the antique to my bed.

The archangels snickered.

“Patience, Anwen,” the devil chided.

I didn’t want to be patient. I wanted my honey rock, and I wanted to forever evict myself from the pool of unwanted virgins. I reached between Michael and Gabriel to snag a slice. “Honey rocks for breakfast, and more honey rocks for second breakfast. This is how to live life.”

Eoghan smirked.

As long as he provided honey rocks, he could be as smug as he wanted. I could handle anything when I had honey rocks to enjoy.

“I recommend a greenhouse, sun lamps should you decide to live in a place that is not conducive to year-round musk melons. Keep the seeds. She is a threat to the local supply.” The devil pushed the plate closer to me. “You need the extra calories. There’s one more thing we need to discuss before we can depart and leave you to your business. The nodes here will be a problem for you.”

Eoghan grunted and went to work cleaning my cutting board and knife. “We need to find them and make certain they are safeguarded.”