shape.”
“Shape?”
“You look exactly as you were when you died. This is not kind. It might be better to restore you to your aspect of health.”
“I can have no joy until I find my son, Gaw.”
“Who?”
Orlene smiled. “He was named after his legal ghost father, Gawain. Gaw for short, or Gaw-Two.”
“Gaw,” Jolie agreed, understanding. “Come, here is a mirror.” She stood, beckoning Orlene to a full-length mirror set in the living wall. It was formed of level water, tilted vertically; Gaea preferred natural things, with some leavening of magic.
The woman looked, and was appalled. “I look awful!”
“Your grief caused you to waste away. You might have died in due course even if you hadn’t taken poison. But as a ghost you may assume any appearance, and it would be pointless to remain gaunt.”
“But I have sinned by killing myself, and should pay the penalty.”
“By the existing standard, yes, you have sinned. But your appearance can neither aggravate nor atone for that. If you are to recover your baby, it may be best to assume an appearance that does not advertise your grief. We may have to query many folk.”
Orlene, gazing at herself, seemed inclined to agree. Like most lovely women, she was conscious of appearances. “How can I-?”
“As you become experienced in your present condition, you will gain proficiency in form changing. But for now, why don’t you just lie down and rest or sleep, while I investigate the location of your baby? Think of the form you wish to assume, and your body will gradually approach it.”
“But I must search Gaw out myself!” Orlene protested. “And so you shall! But there are queries I can make most readily by myself, such as with the Purgatory Computer, which is in a public region. Let me do this while you rest; I promise that you will be the first to know anything I learn.”
Orlene wavered. “Can the dead sleep?” Jolie laughed. “The dead can do what they choose! I slept for centuries when my husband associated with Hell. I did not truly come awake until Gaea took me. I had much to catch up on then! Part of it I learned while being your friend, in your dreams, for you were a girl of the modern world.”
“My friend,” Orlene echoed. “Those dreams, I forgot them by day, but they were wonderful by night! We did so much together!”
“So much,” Jolie agreed. “It was almost like being alive again.”
“And now I am dead,” Orlene said sadly. “Already I regret my foolishness. I wish I had had your advice, before I…”
“I wish I had been watching!” Jolie said. “It is my fault as much as yours.” Indeed, she felt the guilt! To allow this woman, of all those alive, to die so pointlessly, Jolie felt she had been criminally neglectful. She dreaded the revelation she would at some time have to make.
“I think I will lie down,” Orlene said. “So much has happened! I never expected the Afterlife to be like this. It will take time to adjust.”
Jolie led her to a guest chamber in the residence. There was a bed of roses, literally, fragrant and soft. “Rest, here, and I will return shortly,” she said. “Remember, you are absolutely safe here; no one, mortal or immortal, will intrude. Only Gaea and I can enter without challenge, or those we bring.”
Orlene lay in the bed. The bright petals rose up around her like the decoration on a fluffy quilt. She closed her eyes and in a moment was asleep.
Already she was looking better. The deep lines on her face were easing, and her gaunt body seemed to be filling out. She had been beautiful, very like her mother, and soon would be again.
Satisfied, Jolie faded out of the scene.
She went first to Gaea. This was easy to do; she merely relaxed, and her home drop of blood hauled her in elastically. In an instant she was there.
It was a biological laboratory. Gaea had assumed the form of a gallon of air, making her effectively invisible. Jolie didn’t have to bother; as a ghost she
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins