Page 267 of Castings & Curses

“It’s Mercy, actually,” she says with a smile. “Well, my friends call me Mercy, anyway. Mercedes just makes everyone think of the damn car.”

“Mercy,” I say, shoving my earbuds into my purse as my brain tries to figure out how to handle this situation. “I’m sorry, but the Annex is closed,” I say in my most professional voice.

She glances all around the room, her fingers tightening on her strap once more. “What is this place?” she asks in awe.

“The Pearly Gates Annex,” I answer.

“Whoa, liketheepearly gates? Am I like… in Heaven?” Her eyes widen at the word.

A part of me wants to spare this poor girl the truth. If she doesn’t know where she is, she may not remember what happened to her. How she died. I’ve been trained for a lot of things in my lives—both here and on Earth—but death has never been my strong suit.

Though, despite my disdain, I side with the truth. It’s the right thing to do, not the easiest.

“Yes. You are in Heaven.”

Mercy’s eyes sparkle at my admission, a smile crossing her face.

“I knew it! I knew Heaven existed!” she squeals happily.

I’m confused, shouldn’t she be…

“You are not upset?” I ask as I step closer to her.

She shakes her head. “I knew it was my time.” Her words hit me right in the chest, and suddenly grief hits me all over again.

The profound way in which she says the words is so undeniably full of faith. As if she’s truly made peace with her life before accepting death. And I realize, at this moment, that I envy such faith. When death came for me, I was not as astute as she.

“So, are you like my guardian angel or something?” she asks, her gaze finally settling on me once more.

I blush at the connotation. Guardians are on the top floor here. It takes years of rising in the ranks to even be considered for guardianship. Guardian Angels have to be good at a lot of things—possess lots of different skills—and they have to be able to compartmentalize themselves and their feelings, because they have to work on Earth, quietly, with humans. They protect and guide their charges, a job that is of the utmost importance. Fending off demons and monsters that threaten the charge’s lifeforce before their time has come.

It’s an admirable, rewarding job I hear, but in the hierarchy of Heaven I am not much more than a basic clerk. I am as far from a Guardian Angel as the stars are from the Earth’s crust.

“I am not, sorry.” I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, but this girl, this Mercy, seems to bring about a strange motherly feeling inside of me I’m not quite familiar with.

“Oh,” she says, her gaze falling.

“I um… I just work the desk. When the Annex is open,” I add.

Mercy twists her lips. “Oh. Well, can you take me to my Guardian Angel?” she asks innocently.

My heart falters again. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that. All I can do is—” I look at my computer a few feet away, then out the window. The sun bathes everything in its golden light, and my stomach grumbles.

Mercy fishes around in her messenger bag before producing a Mango-Pineapple Fruit bar. She waves it at me, and I feel frozen.

“Go on, take it. I never cared much for the mango stuff. I wasn’t looking when I grabbed my snacks this morning, and I thought I grabbed the blueberry one…” Her voice trails off, and it’s like something’s unlocked within her, but as soon as it is there in her eyes, it’s gone. Replaced once again by a soft smile. “It’s the least I can do for obviously thwarting your plans,” she says.

I take the bar, not knowing quite what else to do. It would be rude of me to refuse a gift, even one such as this. I set the bar down on the counter as I make my way behind the desk, firing up the computer again. It takes a minute to come back to life, but when it does, I pull up the system.

Mercy wanders around the small lobby, touching the couch, the paintings, the little knick knacks—everything. A part of me wants to tell her to keep her hands to herself, but I push that notion aside. It’s not like she’ll hurt anything, and Matthew doesn’t have to know.

“You said your name is Mercedes?”

“Yeah. Mercedes Rose James.”

My lips turn up in a smile. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“What’s your name?” she asks as she stops in front of a large painting of a waterfall.

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