Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

274 :: JOHN R. MABRY
The kettle was whistling and Terry skipped ahead of her to
turn it off. “I’m not sure. Spirits need to be in bodies, even
subtle bodies like angels have. If they’re not they...dissipate.
Then they’re really dead, because they’re just gone.”
“That’s scary. I think that’s more scary than thinking
Heaven or Hell is real,” Kat said, her brow knitting.
“Well, some people prefer the idea of annihilation to the
survival of the soul, but I’m with you—I think it’s pretty
scary, too.” He poured them each a cup of tea and set out a
couple of oat cakes.
“So what can we do for him? The angel, I mean,” Kat
asked.
“Well, I’m not sure,” Terry sat down and gave her a serious
look. “What we need to do is to get him back to Heaven,
to his proper body.”
She hadn’t thought of that. Fear seized at her chest. “And
what will happen to Randall’s soul when that happens?” she
asked.
Terry didn’t look at her. But he did, in a way, answer her.
He leaned over and blew out a candle.
:: 57 ::
When he opened his mind’s eye, Dylan saw the tree. It was
the same tree he always climbed when he went to visit the
Upper World, and he climbed it with an alacrity impossible
in the conventional world.
Not bothering to look down, he felt the wind on his face,
and the slight sway of the tree as he reached higher and thinner
limbs. Soon he climbed through a cloud, and once above
it, he swung down.
He was still in the clouds, only now he was standing on
one. An arm reached out to help him find his balance.