Read Online A Kiss Before the Apocalypse by Thomas E. Sniegoski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thomas E. Sniegoski
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wasn’t bad enough that the Angel of Death was missing, but with the five scrolls gone as well . . . Remy shuddered, trying to force thoughts of the Apocalypse from his mind.
He had some more of his coffee and then tried to distract himself with work. He turned on the computer that sat on the corner of the desk. He had to finish the estimate on a surveillance job he’d been offered, as well as the final bill for services to Mrs. Mountgomery, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get it together.
Remy couldn’t stop thinking about the Angel of Death, and the Horsemen galloping toward the end of the world.
Exasperated, he finally switched off the computer and gathered up his things, resigned to the fact that nothing was going to be done in the office that day. Whenever he felt this way, there was only one thing that could help him focus.
As he shut off the office light and closed the door behind him, Remy noticed that he could still smell a lingering scent of the angelic, and made a mental note to bring a scented candle from home, just in case the loathsome stink was still there when he returned to the office tomorrow.
First he would stop off at home to pick up Marlowe.
His mind a jumble with thoughts of Seraphim, angels of death, and a possible apocalypse, Remy knew he had to see Madeline.
He needed to see his wife.
Marlowe tensed, his dark brown eyes riveted to the yellow-green tennis ball clutched in Madeline’s bony hand.
She made the gesture to throw, once . . . twice, before finally letting the ball fly across the well-kept lawn at the back of the Cresthaven Nursing Center.
Her laugh is the most wonderful thing to hear, Remy mused as they both watched the black dog bound across the grass in pursuit of his prize.
The weather was warm again, with just the slightest tease of the cooler months to come, but Madeline still pulled her sweater tight about her dwindling frame as she sat in the green plastic chair.
“He looks good,” she said to Remy standing beside her, watching as the dog happily snatched up the ball and rolled it around in his mouth. “Thought for sure he’d be fat with all the crap you give him.”
“Me?” Remy said with a laugh. “Who’s chair did he sit beside every morning, waiting for toast?”
“Oh, those were just little pieces of bread,” Madeline said, and clapped her hands together, summoning Marlowe back to her. “That never hurt him.”
She gave Remy a smile and that sly look out of the corner of her eye that even after fifty years of marriage still got to him. He put his arm around her and she leaned into his side, resting her head on his hip.
“I miss him terribly,” she said wistfully.
Marlowe trotted back toward them, ball held proudly in his mouth. Until suddenly, something distracted the goofy animal, probably a smell in the grass that he hadn’t noticed before, and he dropped the ball, sniffing furiously.
“And don’t even get me started on how I feel about being away from you,” Madeline continued quietly.
Remy felt an invisible fist squeeze tightly around his heart. “Then come home,” he said, watching as the dog rooted around in the grass. “We’ll go in right now, gather up your things, and bring you back to Beacon Hill.”
“I’m sick, Remy,” she said, head still resting against his hip.
“I’ll take care of you.”
Madeline raised her hand to his butt and patted it lovingly. “You’re a good guy,” she said, sounding weaker than he ever remembered hearing her sound. “But it wouldn’t be fair to you, or to Marlowe. The kind of care I need . . .”
“I told you I’d take care of you.”
“And you would. I haven’t a doubt in my mind about it, but that’s where the trouble would start.”
Remy looked down at her then, seeing past the illness that was slowly stealing her life away, staring into the eyes of the woman who had taught him the beauty and power of love, and to whom he had so willingly given his
He had some more of his coffee and then tried to distract himself with work. He turned on the computer that sat on the corner of the desk. He had to finish the estimate on a surveillance job he’d been offered, as well as the final bill for services to Mrs. Mountgomery, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get it together.
Remy couldn’t stop thinking about the Angel of Death, and the Horsemen galloping toward the end of the world.
Exasperated, he finally switched off the computer and gathered up his things, resigned to the fact that nothing was going to be done in the office that day. Whenever he felt this way, there was only one thing that could help him focus.
As he shut off the office light and closed the door behind him, Remy noticed that he could still smell a lingering scent of the angelic, and made a mental note to bring a scented candle from home, just in case the loathsome stink was still there when he returned to the office tomorrow.
First he would stop off at home to pick up Marlowe.
His mind a jumble with thoughts of Seraphim, angels of death, and a possible apocalypse, Remy knew he had to see Madeline.
He needed to see his wife.
Marlowe tensed, his dark brown eyes riveted to the yellow-green tennis ball clutched in Madeline’s bony hand.
She made the gesture to throw, once . . . twice, before finally letting the ball fly across the well-kept lawn at the back of the Cresthaven Nursing Center.
Her laugh is the most wonderful thing to hear, Remy mused as they both watched the black dog bound across the grass in pursuit of his prize.
The weather was warm again, with just the slightest tease of the cooler months to come, but Madeline still pulled her sweater tight about her dwindling frame as she sat in the green plastic chair.
“He looks good,” she said to Remy standing beside her, watching as the dog happily snatched up the ball and rolled it around in his mouth. “Thought for sure he’d be fat with all the crap you give him.”
“Me?” Remy said with a laugh. “Who’s chair did he sit beside every morning, waiting for toast?”
“Oh, those were just little pieces of bread,” Madeline said, and clapped her hands together, summoning Marlowe back to her. “That never hurt him.”
She gave Remy a smile and that sly look out of the corner of her eye that even after fifty years of marriage still got to him. He put his arm around her and she leaned into his side, resting her head on his hip.
“I miss him terribly,” she said wistfully.
Marlowe trotted back toward them, ball held proudly in his mouth. Until suddenly, something distracted the goofy animal, probably a smell in the grass that he hadn’t noticed before, and he dropped the ball, sniffing furiously.
“And don’t even get me started on how I feel about being away from you,” Madeline continued quietly.
Remy felt an invisible fist squeeze tightly around his heart. “Then come home,” he said, watching as the dog rooted around in the grass. “We’ll go in right now, gather up your things, and bring you back to Beacon Hill.”
“I’m sick, Remy,” she said, head still resting against his hip.
“I’ll take care of you.”
Madeline raised her hand to his butt and patted it lovingly. “You’re a good guy,” she said, sounding weaker than he ever remembered hearing her sound. “But it wouldn’t be fair to you, or to Marlowe. The kind of care I need . . .”
“I told you I’d take care of you.”
“And you would. I haven’t a doubt in my mind about it, but that’s where the trouble would start.”
Remy looked down at her then, seeing past the illness that was slowly stealing her life away, staring into the eyes of the woman who had taught him the beauty and power of love, and to whom he had so willingly given his
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