“Keep it down!” she barks. “I don’t want to hear the incessant sound of your fucking!”
I shudder when she says the word. It’s amazing how horrible it feels. I so get why expletives have irritated Marshall all these years.
“Okay, so she’s no angel.” I shrug his way. “But we’ve always known and appreciated that about her.” Technically she is an angel, but you need to both expand your mind and broaden the definition to fully comprehend that.
Marshall’s chest bounces with a laugh. “I don’t believe you’ve appreciated a single thing about Ms. Bishop, my love. And no, we cannot simply do the switcheroo. She needs to be willing.”
“What?” I belt it out with disappointment. “Well, there goes that brilliant idea. Chloe will never go for it. She’s a monster who needs to be caught unaware if we want her to do our bidding. You and I both know that.”
“Maybe so, but those are not the celestial rules in play. Only the wicked among us possess others without their knowledge.”
“That’s right.” I clutch my neck at the thought. “And they’re only allowed to enter the unmarked.” As in those without the Holy Spirit residing in them. I shake my head as I look out at the rain slamming against the window. “And they wonder what’s wrong with the people of this world. If they only knew what was truly the matter with some of them. It’s sickening what the enemy has done, Marshall. A part of me wishes the Master would clear the playing board—heck, flip the board, and start from scratch with this place.”
A sharp laugh comes from him. “He won’t be quick to replicate this beautiful disaster. Consider yourself among the blessed to have taken part in this marvelous opportunity.”
I give a slow nod, my gaze still locked on the rain. “An invitation issued by the King to participate in a world of His making—not this world, of course. Here we’re called to merely taste and see that He is good. We ultimately decide where we spend eternity based on our acceptance or rejection of His Son. It’s so easy for some to say there is no God, but they speak in ignorance. You can look to nature for your answers if you don’t want to look any further. To the sky, the sea. To think it were all here by chance, that humanity has survived this long on a celestial whim is ludicrous. We are wanted, every last one of us. We are expected to attend the marriage supper of the lamb on the last day when we will be raised up in new bodies and welcomed to a better home without evil, without the scourge of wickedness weighing over our skulls. Oh, Marshall, I could weep far more than the Paragon rain could ever offer just thinking of how the enemy has deceived the masses. So many clever pursuits. Every one of them a raging success.”
“Skyla.” He wraps his loving arms around me and blesses my cheek with a kiss. “It is your heart I love most, my love. But do not deceive yourself. The enemy doesn’t work all that hard. The masses are quite capable of bringing destruction upon themselves.”
“They’ll be judged by what they know.” I shake my head, unable to bear the thought of a single human soul missing out on the best that lies ahead.
“And sadly, many of them know far too much to ever be safe. It is by their own stubborn will that their souls will bear affliction. They lack faith in what they cannot see.”
“Maybe faith is too hard. If more of the dead could come back, they might believe.” There’s a desperation rising in my voice, a desperation to save humanity from their wicked, stubborn selves.
“They would not, Skyla. It has been done and they did not.” He sharpens his eyes over mine. “What then shall we do?”
“Fight for my people. As we’ve decided.” I sigh as I look at the wicked witch before us. Chloe lost her body in the original Faction war to Ezrina, and she took on Ezrina’s twisted form. My mother, in her infinite kindness to Chloe, allowed her to morph back to her beautiful self—okay, so Chloe might just be far more stunning in this go-around. Nevertheless, she’s Chloe Bishop in Ezrina’s old skin. And I do mean old. That body has been around for a couple of centuries at least. “Okay, Marshall, let’s get this over with. Do your magic. Bippity boppity bop the boob on the head—and by boob, I mean Chloe. Let the witch see us and get her whining over with. I’m entering into that body whether she likes it or not. I’m storming the proverbial castle.”
“Ms. Messenger, I’m afraid that’s not possible. There will be no storming of the castle. We’ve discussed this.”
“Fine,” I say. “Whatever needs to be said to accomplish the feat, I’m ready to sweet talk the sourpuss before us.”
He lifts a finger in the air. “Then by all means, it’s showtime.”
A tingling sensation takes over. A sprinkling of miniature stars sprays around us as the room takes on more definition than before.
Chloe’s eyes widen a notch as she looks to Marshall then to me.
“Shit.” She scowls at the two of us. “You both nearly gave me a heart attack. What the hell do you want?”
She jumps up as if she were ready to slaughter us, and I have no doubt she’d love to do just that.
“Chloe.” I step in close. “I’ll get right to the point. I’m dead and looking for a body to haunt. I think you’d make a great fit for me because you don’t have anyone battling to get in your pants. What do you say?” Okay, so I could have finessed that a bit.
Her mouth opens and closes as she looks from Marshall to me.
“Dudley?” she spits his name out like a bucket of rusty nails. “What the hell is going on? I’m not in the mood for Messenger’s shenanigans. It’s been a long week, and I have a pedicure that needs to get underway.”
I glance down at her bare feet and my eyes bulge.
“Chloe, you’ve filed your toenails down to sharp points. Clearly you—”
Marshall holds up a finger my way.Now, now, Ms. Messenger. Play nice so you can have nice things, like a corporal frame to occupy.
A sigh escapes me. He’s right, I suppose. And aside from that, I appreciate the fact we can still communicate in private even though I’m down one Celestra body.
I look to Chloe and nod. “What lovely feet you have,” I say as I mock bow to the queen of mean.
