Sleeping Late On Judgement Day (50 page)

At that moment, though, I didn't particularly care. Did. Not. Care. If I was Heaven's dog, I was now officially the happiest dog on Earth, at least for the next forty-eight hours. I threw my arm around Caz's shoulder and pulled her to me, smelled the back of her neck and kissed her there, smooching and sniffing and biting until she squirmed.

“This perfect place,” I said. “You'll like it.”

“I'm sure . . . I will.” She forced herself to concentrate on walking.

“A friend helped me hang onto it, through all the shit.” I realized I could actually say it and mean it. “There was a
lot
of shit, as it turned out, but just enough friends.”

She wasn't really listening. “Where's your car? That one? Oh, Bobby, not really!”

“No remarks,” I said with what I hoped was a quiet dignity. “It runs. It will get us where we're going.”

She turned, sweetly hiding the grin that had spread across her face. “No, really, it's lovely, Bobby—so yellow! But where
are
we going?”

“I told you, it's perfect. My friend helped me hang onto it and keep it secret, and I only just figured out why—so I'd have a place to be with you, with neither Heaven nor Hell to bother us.” I grinned. “Don't worry, you'll approve of the furnishings. In fact, it's your own apartment.”

Y
ES, I
know you'd like details, but for once you're not going to get them. I mean, come on, don't you have any imagination? I will tell you this much: We barely kept our clothes on long enough to get inside the apartment, and we didn't make it as far as the bedroom. (Not until early Saturday morning, anyway.) We broke a couch, kicked over the coffee table, and pulled down a couple of very pretty silk hangings, and all that while we were just getting started.

Later, we were lying on the carpet, naked and shiny with sweat. I had an upended lamp pressing against my rib cage, which was a tiny bit uncomfortable, but I didn't have the strength to move. Also, I had my face buried in the side of Caz's neck, just behind her ear, so that I could feel her pulse beating against my cheek as it finally slowed to something approaching normal.

No offense to the Highest, but that is my true idea of Heaven.

“What are we going to do?” I asked when I could stop inhaling the fragrance of warm Caz long enough to form words. “What are we going to do when Sunday night comes?”

“We're going to do what we're told,” she said. “You're going to put me on the train, and I'm going to magically go back to Kainos. Because then we'll get to do this again. And again. And again.”

“But I don't want to let you go. I want you to live here with me, not go back to some cold, empty, wild place. I don't ever want to let go of you again.”

She was silent for a long time, but it wasn't the dreadful kind of silence I'd been forced to endure so many times before, the silence of hopelessness. “Actually, I've come to like it there,” she said. “It's quite beautiful. And there are still people. The Third Way pilgrims all survived—thanks to you and Sam and Haraheliel.”

“Don't you dare get the kid's name right. He'll expect me to do it, too.” I rubbed my cheek up and down on the back of her neck. “Do you really like the place?”

“It's quiet. Oh, Bobby, after hundreds of years in Hell, that's such a blessing. And the weather's real, and it changes. Changes! One day sunshine, another day rain—and the rain is actual water. Clean water!”

“Yeah, I get it. I went through a few of the rainstorms in Hell. Like an amusement park ride built around Montezuma's Revenge.”

“But it's not just that. The people living there have a purpose. They're rebuilding, and when they finish with that, they'll keep going. They're making something new. Something no one's ever seen before. And when I'm there, I'm part of it.”

I wondered what the pilgrims made of Caz. They couldn't know she was a demon, could they? “So Karael's just . . . letting Kainos be? Not interfering?” I'd filled her in on what I'd learned earlier, when we'd staggered to the kitchen at one point in search of water and food.

“I don't know. For now, anyway.”

“Huh. Hearing you talk about it, I almost wish I could go back with you.” And thinking of her going back without me on Sunday evening made me hold her even tighter.

She laughed. “I don't think it's your kind of place, Bobby. Not a single poorly lit street corner or dive bar on the whole planet.”

“Hey, there's slightly more to me than that!”

“I'm teasing.” She reached down to stroke me, to show me she was sorry. She held on and squeezed. She was clearly
very
sorry. “I'd be happy to be anywhere with you, my beloved angel.”

“He's not going to let me, anyway.” I held her close, marveled at how well we fit together, like two puzzle pieces that had come off the lathe side by side but had been separated for years. “Karael doesn't strike me as the kind of dude who does things for sentiment or even amusement. He's kept me around for a reason.”

“I know. That scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because. Oh, let's just not talk about it. Let's pretend we only have this one time, this one weekend, and let's not waste a second of it.”

Something chilled me then, and I half lifted myself off her. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

She looked at me in concern, and for a moment I thought I saw the old terror, but then her eyes widened as she understood. She smiled and I saw it was all right. “Oh! No, Bobby, I didn't mean anything! We'll do what we're told, and we'll see each other again and again. I just didn't want to waste too much time talking. There are better ways to communicate.”

I saw what she was getting at, or rather I felt it. “Okay, you're right,” I said. “You can't do
that
by nizzic.”

She really was right. We had more important things to do than worry about what our bosses wanted from us or what came next. Only a fool walks into Paradise with a chip on his shoulder, searching for the ugliness behind the beauty. I'd been that fool for a long time, but now I'd earned myself a little time off. A vacation. “This is a holiday,” I said, turning her toward me so I could appreciate her perfect nakedness once again. I leaned over and kissed her chill, soft mouth. “It means ‘holy day'.”

My demon-woman reached up to me. “You certainly talk a lot, Wings. I think it's time to stop talking again for a while.”

She was right again, and I was right to listen to her. In fact, at least for these few, fleeting moments, all was right with the world.

That doesn't happen very often, of course, and those who know Eternity tell me it never lasts. We have to grab it when it's there and hold on as long as we can, because that's the only good we can know for certain. Everything else we are and everything else we do, whether it's born in our bones and blood or spawned from our restless souls, is only an act of faith.