“I don’t know what they say I am,” Imurmured, leaning away from the one with a pompadour when hefloated closer.
“The key to it all. The answer we’ve all beenseeking to put to right the world again.”
No pressurethough.
I resisted waving my arm at him to get him tomove away, but I didn’t want to touch one of them again. “Not sosure about that,” I said instead.
“Do you really think it’s her?” another oneof them whispered to some of the others.
“The demon said she could burn this placedown with her bare hands, but she’s not a demon. She must be theone everyone has been talking about,” a young man wearing theshredded remains of a gray uniform said. He’d been a Civil Warsoldier judging by his clothing and wide-brimmed hat.
Apparently, I was the hottest topic on theafterlife gossip vine. Even after everything I’d seen over mylifetime and these last couple of months, this was one thing I’dtrulyneverseen coming. I dimlyrecalled my mom sitting around watching talk shows when I was achild. Right now, I felt like one of the people sitting on thestage as the audience judged them. All I needed was for someone tostand up and yell at me,Lucifer is hercreator!
I shivered at the notion and tried to moveaway from an old man who floated by with round glasses perched onthe tip of his bulbous nose. He inspected me as ifIwere the freak show. Oh, who was I kidding, Iwas a freak, but they were freakingghostsfor crying out loud. They could cut me abreak.
“Don’t yell at her, Ethel,” another one saidand floated over to the woman who had first spoken with us. “Shecould help us.”
My eyebrows shot up at that statement. Ilooked to Corson who leaned over the counter and waved at the ghostwith the pompadour. The image of his hand moving back and forththrough the man was about as comforting as sleeping on a bed ofglass.
“Shoo!” Corson said to him.
The man pouted, but he floated away to standby one of the tables. “What is this place?” Vargas inquired in alow breath.
“They can hear you,” Corson replied. “Noreason to whisper. Ghosts may have the form of mist, but they canhear a gate opening from a mile away, isn’t that right, folks?”
There were many disconcerted comments fromthe ghosts such as,dickandasshole, following his statement,which only confused me more. Corson swiveled on the stool so hisback was to the counter; he leaned against it casually with hiselbows propped on the smooth surface behind him. He actually smiledas he surveyed the disgruntled forms staring back at him.
“It’s the truth,” he said to them. “It’s whyyou’re all here.”
“I don’t understand,” Erin said.
“A few of them are here because they werescared and didn’t pass on to Heaven when they were supposed to.Souls can balk against entering Heaven. They have no such choicewhen it comes to Hell.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Heaven is a place where the good get to reaptheir rewards. If they chose not to, then that is their choice.However,noone avoids thepunishment of Hell if they rightly deserve it. Those souls whochose not to move on become trapped on Earth until they’re grantedanother chance to go to Heaven. However,mostof these ghosts are here because they didn’tquite have what it took to make it into Heaven or Hell. So they’restuck here because they didn’t have the balls to be bad enough forHell, and they didn’t have the decency to be good enough forHeaven,” Corson explained.
Who knew ghosts could scowl? I did now, andall of those scowls were focused on Corson. If they had been fleshand bone, I had no doubt they’d be trying to kick his ass rightnow.
“Corson, be nice to them,” I whispered.
“Why? Most of them weren’t good people. It’swhy they’re here. They’re paying their penance until their time hasbeen served.”
“Wait.” Vargas rested his fingers against histemple. “Are you telling me Earth is Purgatory?”
“Are you really surprised?” Corsoninquired.
I frowned over his question, unsure how torespond. We were sitting in a diner full of ghosts, could anythingsurprise any of us anymore?
“If you really think about it, it makesperfect sense. They’re trapped here, watching the world continueon, watching their loved ones die and travel on to a place wherethey can’t go. They have to watch all of you live your lives, whileconstantly wondering when their time will finally come so they canpass on too,” Corson continued.
“Sounds awful,” I said and glanced at thefigures pressing closer to us. “So why are you all gatheringhere?”
“One of the gates is here,” Pompadoursaid.
“Gates to what?”
“To Heaven,” he replied as if I were about asbright as tar, which right now, I felt like my mind was as coveredin goo as the rest of me.
