“Why?” Viper asked.
I shrugged. “Something's wrong with it.”
“I'm going with you,” Hades declared.
Chapter Eight
From Hell to Heaven.
Jesus had made a lot of changes since taking over Heaven. Most of those changes had been to the workings of Heaven and the operations of the Heavenly Host, who were far happier with the J-Man in charge. The heavens were now open to Hell, and the general sense of dread that had once permeated the territory had been replaced by hope and happiness. The J-Man was a far better king than his father. However, the most drastic changes had been to his father's house. As a die-hard hippie—the first, I'd wager—Jesus felt most comfortable with a 70s aesthetic. Cozy beanbag chairs, shag rugs, and lava lamps had replaced the minimalist, austere furnishings. Color permeated the space along with a smell that would be impossible to remove, regardless of the magic used.
Jesus had also opened the tracing room in his home to his family.
I stepped out of the small room and into a psychedelic wonderland. The corridor walls bombarded us with waves of bright color, enhanced by a skylight. A glance up showed me the reason the J-Man had put in the ceiling window—a hydroponic garden of verdant plants with cone-shaped buds. The marijuana flowed out of glass planters affixed to the sides of the raisedskylight to trail down toward a pumpkin-orange shag rug that ran the length of the corridor. I paused to take everything in.
Jesus had been decorating again.
“J-Man!” I called out. “Yo, brother!”
Viper, Kirill, Re, and Hades (thankfully, he'd brought his sunglasses) came out of the tracing room behind me, all of them gawking at the décor. I especially liked the brass sculptures of birds on the walls.
“Out here!” Jesus called.
We went down the hallway, passing rooms full of beanbag chairs, sunflowers, and bead curtains. I exhaled in relief when I stepped into the modern living room. It wasn't Jerry's décor, but it wasn't hippie-chic either. The theme was mid-century modern. Not my favorite, but at least I wasn't bombarded with posters of Jim Morrison and bongs. It was a nice middle ground—something Jesus liked without being too uncomfortable for his visitors.
An Angel sat in a reclining leather chair. It wasn't Jesus. The J-Man didn't have wings. No, this Angel was mine.
“Az?” I went over to him. “I thought you were meeting with Mr. Gray?”
“We finished early.” He kissed my cheek. “Jesus texted.” He looked at Hades. “I assume things didn't go well.”
“A soul started to enter the Underworld and then was swept away,” Hades said.
“Swept away?” Jesus asked. “Bummer. We got one, but he's spaced out. Doesn't know who he is or why he's here.” Jesusshook his head, his long, brown braid swinging over his broad back. His face was the same as it was before, with his brilliant blue eyes and hooked nose, and kindness still radiated from him. And he still spoke like a hippie. “Hey, my sister.” He hugged me. “Thanks for coming. This whole thing is a head trip.”
“If it's happening here, it's happening in all the underworlds,” Re said.
“All but one.” I shot him a look.
“What does that mean?” Azrael looked from me to Re and back.
“Naraka.” I nodded at Azrael's curse. “Yeah, if the trickster is behind this, they're probably collecting souls in Naraka.”
“But why? How?”
I shrugged. “They stole those items for a reason.” I looked back at Jesus. “That reminds me. Did Az tell you to check on the tablets?”
“Oh, yeah. I looked this morning. They're good. Nothing's been near them.”
“That's a relief.”
“Are we going to tell Fenrir that his son may be in the Hindu Underworld?” Azrael asked.
“Vervain vants to,” Kirill said. “Ve aren't so sure.”
“You know, after what happened the last time in Naraka,” Viper added.
“Didn't the trickster save our lives?” Az asked.
