Prophesy Read online

Inside the restaurant, the aroma of sautéed onions and prime rib had him wishing for life. He stopped beside Strappy Sandals at reception.

  “A table for two,” she said to the woman behind the counter. “Secluded, if you have it.”

  The hostess smiled at Keegan.

  He was too surprised to smile back. Since he'd awakened, no one paid him the least attention as he walked around town. Maybe he hadn't been invisible after all. No, he definitely had been. His looks hadn't changed, and just as the hostess had smiled at him, women passing him by on the street would have too, like had always been the case.

  After they were seated, he said, “I'm not dead anymore.” He didn't know what was more preposterous — coming back from the dead or walking dead among the living.

  “You were never dead."

  "But those demons...you said —" He stopped speaking when she held a hand in the air.

  "I'll rephrase. You were never entirely dead and technically, you never left the earthly plane. Not all of you, anyway. There was…shall I say, a muck-up. The waters muddied and the view became distorted. Long story short, your soul left your body prematurely. The important thing for you to remember right now is that your equipoise has been reinstated. So no more jumping off roof tops. Okay? You wouldn’t believe the forms we have to fill out when our charges die accidentally.”

  “Do premature departures happen often?”

  She shook her head. “It’s unheard of. That’s why He summoned me.”

  “He who?”

  “Who do you think? The Big Fella, the grand master of us all.”

  “I gather your job is to reunite my soul with me.”

  “In order to do that, I have to find it before the demons do, and before they take your heart from you. As it stands, your soul is up for grabs.” She looked him over. "And the rest of you too."

  Keegan shook at the thought that he could end up in Hell. What beat all, though, was that he wouldn’t be sentenced to eternal damnation because he'd sinned, but because his soul had prematurely ejaculated. God. Where was the justice in that?

  “You’re the best He's got, right? That’s why He sent you.”

  She shook her head. “I get all the crappy jobs – the ones no one else will touch.”

  Great. Just great. This just kept getting worse and worse. “Do you have a name?”

  “Echo. Echo Fitzgerald.” She peered through the window to the street beyond. After a moment, she asked, “What’s the last thing you remember before you died?”

  “Getting stung by a bee. I couldn’t reach my EpiPen in time and went into anaphylactic shock.”

  He watched as she keyed something into what looked like a BlackBerry.

  “According to His records, you injected yourself in time, but your soul reacted hastily and crossed the starting line before the light turned green. As a result, it fetched up between the folds of time.”

  By the sound of that, he might never be reunited with his soul. She didn’t look like a miracle worker. He sighed heavily, leaned back in his chair and fingered the place mat, feeling overwhelmed and nauseous.

  “I have a huge trial coming up,” he said, like she cared about his law practice. “Nichols versus Instate Insurance. Perhaps you heard of it?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  No, of course not. How silly of him to assume otherwise.

  “I’m having the special,” she said and placed her menu on the table. “How about you?”

  “Fine,” he said without gusto or a glance at the menu.

  “What’s your problem, anyway?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  As she picked up her water glass, she said, pointing her pinkie finger at him, “You first.”

  “Aside from the fact that I have no soul, you mean?”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” She saluted him.

  “So, what’s yours?”

  “I was in Belize enjoying a particularly fine Pinot Noir with a Greek god. When He summoned me, I was about to have the first sex I’ve had in months.”

  “I’m assuming ‘Greek god’ is a euphemism.”

  “No." She raised her blond eyebrows. "Why would you think so?”

  “No reason.”

  Judging from the way she refused to make eye contact, she had something more to add. He prompted her. “There’s something else. What is it?”

  “I get cranky when my blood sugar is low.”

  Keegan flagged the waitress and placed their orders.

  For the next ten minutes, Echo spoke non-stop on her cell in a language Keegan did not recognize. He listened to the chatter of patrons at nearby tables and the instrumental music playing softly in the background, and almost felt relaxed.

  Echo flipped her phone closed and looked out at the street again.

  He noticed that her smile quickly became a chuckle. “What’s so funny?”

  She turned and crossed her arms against her chest. “Which do you want first? The good news or the bad?”

  He huffed a breath, weary of her theatrics. “You choose.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. That guy, the six-foot beanpole dressed in denim and leather, leaning against the mailbox attempting to look like he belongs, is a demon. He has a chip on his shoulder the size of Everest. Imagine your worst nightmare times two. He’s as mean, nasty, and disgusting a son of a bastard as you’ll ever meet.”

  Keegan took a moment to digest that. “And the good news?”

  “Honey.” She patted his hand. “That was the good news.”