Page 103 of Good Vampires Go to Heaven

After his initial tour of the fortress, he spent his days in the Masada museum at the base of the mountain. Because he displayed an extraordinary ability to read the old documents in their original language, the historians allowed him access to the private rooms. There, Zeb saw a list of those “zealots” who’d lived under siege there, those that could be identified. When he came to the names Sarah bat Rivkah, Rachel bat Sarah, and Mikah ben Zebulan, he gasped and fought back tears. There was also information on his brother-in-law Benjamin ben David, identified as one of the ringleaders of the “freedom fighters.”

Writings on parchment attributed to Benjamin were kept in special glass cases. They were a sort of diary, not day-by-day, but occasional entries up until the end. It was the lines on the last page that struck Zeb. “Sarah weeps for her husband. Even yet, she believes he will come to rescue her.”

That didn’t sound like Jasper’s remark that Sarah had cursed him.

Of course, her lingering belief in him hurt just as much.

“Trust in God,” Michael had advised him. So, he spent many hours on his knees in a small chapel after that. Finally, he came to the realization: His life . . . his entire thirty human and one thousand, nine hundred and forty-one Lucipire years . . . had been wasted on regrets. What might have beens, what he should have dones. It was time to put regrets to rest. Time to move forward. This was the first day of the rest of his life.

Closure? he wondered. Is that what this is?

Yes!

Now, if it wasn’t too late!

Rainy days ahead . . .

A week after the Final Reckoning, Regina was working in the small garden of the cottage she’d rented in southern Louisiana. Tante Lulu had helped her find the property, which wasn’t anywhere near as nice as hers, but had promise.

It was one of those houses on stilts that were popular in the swampy regions of the bayou which often flooded. The overgrown garden, which was on a slightly elevated area, had been planted by the owner before going into a nursing home.

Regina had half expected Zeb to follow her to Louisiana, to beg her forgiveness, or something, even though she’d heard his conversation with Michael about his dead wife and family in Israel, but after the days went by, she had to face facts. And then, she’d talked to Ivak, who was over at Heaven’s End, undecided about whether to stay and fix up the place again or move somewhere else. Ivak had heard, secondhand, that Zeb had gone to Israel, just as she’d suspected.

So, Regina’s assumptions had been true. He was going to live his old life over again, with his family. She couldn’t blame him. It hurt like hell, but it was probably the right thing to do. Dammit!

“Are you sure about that?” Ivak had remarked. “I haven’t heard about anyone else being offered that opportunity.”

“Can you think of anyone else who would have wanted it?” she’d countered. Most vangels wanted to forget about their former sinful lives.

“You have a point there,” Ivak had concluded.

On her knees, weeding the garden, Regina uncovered still healthy tomato plants and root vegetables, along with lots of okra, which she hated. Apparently, you couldn’t kill off okra with dynamite, let alone a few measly weeds. Thor was having a field day sniffing catnip that the former owner must have planted.

She heard a car drive up and stood, dusting some dirt off her hands and knees. She was wearing farmer-style coveralls with a tank top underneath. Her hair was in pigtails. Walking toward the vehicle, her eyes about bugged out. It was a 1960s-era Chevy Impala convertible in a pale lavender color. A St. Jude bobblehead doll still wobbled on the dashboard, and a bumper sticker said “Not too close, I’m not that kind of girl.” Sitting behind the wheel, propped up on pillows, no doubt, was the inimitable Tante Lulu.

“Should a woman your age still be driving an automobile?” Regina asked.

“Huh? I ain’t that old. Besides, a gal is only as old as she feels, and I feel ’bout twenty-five.”

In your dreams! “I thought you were coming over with someone named Lillian,” Regina said, going up to the car.

“This is Lillian,” the old lady said, patting the steering wheel. “Ah brought ya a present, sweetie. It’s in the trunk.”

Regina opened the driver’s door and helped Tante Lulu step down. Today, she had a blond Farrah Fawcett wig on, with big sunglasses, which she removed and tucked into a pocketbook the size of Vermont. On top, she wore a pink T-shirt with the logo “I Got Game” tucked into white pedal pushers. She didn’t have any shoes on.

When Regina looked pointedly at her bare feet, Tante Lulu said, “Mah corns was botherin’ me.”

Regina took the keys that the old lady handed her and opened the trunk. Inside was a St. Jude statue. Surprise, surprise!

“Jist in case ya were feelin’ hopeless,” Tante Lulu said.

“Perfect,” Regina replied. “Thank you.”

“I also brought ya some St. Jude place mats and some St. Jude wind chimes and a St. Jude salt shaker. I even got a St. Jude medal fer Thor’s collar.”

Whoop-ee! “Thank you,” Regina said again.

Tante Lulu, for all her eccentric appearance and intrusive interference in everyone’s lives, was an accomplished folk healer, and her knowledge of medicinal herbs was astounding. She knew things that couldn’t be found in books. And, graciously, she’d been tutoring Regina the past few days on the possibility that this was an occupation Regina might want to pursue.