“His existence answers your question about where babies come from.”
“Is it proof, though? Perhaps he’s part bird. His mother claims to be a wolf.”
That caused him to utter a snort. “I saw you recognize the fact he’s an angel baby.”
“We call them cherubs.”
“Whatever. He’s an angel. Don’t deny it.”
She slumped. “He does appear to be one, and I would know. I was one of the nannies who helped care for them until they reached a certain stage of development.”
She said it so clinically, he had to ask, “Did you like your job?”
A pensive mien overtook her features. “I don’t know. At the time I did it because caring for them was my task. Did I like it?” Her frown intensified. “We never thought of it in those terms.”
“What about your free time? What did you do for fun and relaxation?”
“In between prayers, I took care of myself.”
“Surely you did more than that. What did you do for you that you enjoyed?”
She didn’t answer.
His chest tightened. “Did you ever have fun?”
Her shoulders rolled. “Frivolity leads to sin.”
“What the fuck kind of bullshit is that?” he exclaimed. “Seriously, Curls, you can’t tell me you really believed you had to follow all that crap. I mean, what’s the point of living if you can’t be happy? I swear, hearing about Heaven makes me glad I earned a spot in Hell. It sounds horrible.”
“It’s not that…” She stopped talking and looked him dead in the eyes when she said, “It was all I ever knew.”
“And now?”
She rolled her shoulders. “Now, I’m questioning everything.”
He would help her with those questions and show her it wasn’t the end of the world. But she might need some fortification. “Want a drink?”
“Yes.”
He poured them both two fingers in a glass. She downed hers and choked.
“Your water burns,” she gasped.
“It’s whiskey. It’s supposed to burn. Guess I should have asked.” He wasn’t used to someone who’d never drank. In his lifetime, pouring one was second nature.
“It feels hot.” She put her hand to her chest.
“Yup.” He poured them both another. “It’ll spread, and you’ll relax.”
“Relax? I would like that.” She downed the glass again, barely wincing this time. He poured a third shot, but she held on to it as she leaned back on his couch. She sighed. “I love couches. In the nursery we only had hard chairs and, in our rooms, a stone slab for a bed.”
“Doesn’t sound too heavenly. I thought you guys were supposed to have the best of the best.”
“We are equal. Or so I thought. Those not in the nursery have different things than us. The Archnannies have larger rooms and more than a single gown.” Her voice rose. “And I’ve heard say they don’t have to scrub the halls or tend the paths outside.”
“You can say it, Curls. It’s not fair.”
She struggled but managed to repeat, “It’s not fair. We are supposed to all be the same.”
“That kind of thinking is communism, Curls. Doesn’t usually work as a system in the long term.”
“It would if they let everyone have the same things.”
“But some people like to have more than others.”
“It’s greedy.”
“It’s human.”
The word saw her clamping her lips shut, angry at the reminder of her partial humanity.
“What are you feeling right now?” he prodded.
“I am…” She paused. “I am wanting you to stop talking.”
“Because I’m pissing you off.”
“You are annoying.”
“Only because I’m right.”
Her turn to make a noise. “You are taking pleasure in trying to turn me against Heaven. But my faith is solid. My Father, who is watching over me from Heaven, is probably testing me.”
“You’d be wrong. But hey, you’re allowed to make mistakes. Also a human thing.” He couldn’t help but dig.
For a second, her nostrils flared, and he expected her to explode. But she calmed and with a serene smile said, “Your home is much like Bambi’s.”
He snorted. “I highly doubt my apartment and hers are anywhere close to the same.”
“You both have a big home. A couch. Table. Chair. A kitchen place.” She swept a hand.
“Ah, you mean we both have stuff. So could you. On Earth, and even in Hell, anyone can own shit, but in most cases, you gotta work for it. In my case, to fill this place with useless crap, I have a job with Grim Dating. Get a job and you could own a bunch of useless shit too.”
“A television is not useless.”
He arched a brow. “Already addicted, eh?”
“It is the best thing I’ve ever encountered. Especially when accompanied by popcorn.”
“With butter I hope.”
“The slippery kind.”
His mind fell in the gutter, and he recovered with, “You’ve experienced a lot in the three days since you arrived.”
She nodded. “It’s been very enlightening.”
“In what respect?”
“Earth and humanity are much more complex and evolved than I’d been led to believe.”
“Have you never spoken to a human soul?”
“I’ve never met one. Keep in mind, I worked inside the nursery. I saw only other nannies, guards, and the cherubs.”
“Sounds like prison.”
“We don’t have prisons, as we don’t commit crimes.”
“So how do they punish those who break the rules?” he asked, curious. Because surely it happened.
“Transgressions can result in supplementary chores and prayers or time in solitary contemplation.”
“Ouch. That sucks.”
“It’s all I ever knew. What is Hell like? We’re told fire and brimstone and agony.”
“Well, it is. For some. But most people have only committed minor sins, meaning their lives in Hell aren’t being tortured day in and out. In Hell, only the truly depraved souls suffer hard. Everyone else just kind of ekes out an existence.”
“Murdering. Torturing. Stealing.”
He snorted. “Well, yeah, it is Hell after all. But because there is free choice, there are those who work. We are allowed to laugh and even love.”
“So some sinners do repent and live righteously after their descent.”
That made him laugh. “Oh, Hell no. On the contrary, being in the rings means a slackening of the morals that kept them in check while alive.”
“It must be absolute chaos and anarchy then.”
“Not exactly because we have some rules. Basic ones. For example, if you’re going to steal, you can only steal from someone more fortunate than yourself.”
“Thieves can only steal from the rich?”
“Only the richer.”
“How does that act as a determent?”
“Because as a thief advances through their career, their fortune will grow, and their choice in targets will narrow and become better protected. They will become a possible target themselves. Not to mention, Hell allows for retaliation. Attack me and I can attack you. It’s a type of check and balance system.” Look at him with his fancy jargon. He’d been reading up on the laws of Hell, a reminder that when he’d lived, before he’d turned to dirty tricks, he was going to be a lawyer.