We both decided that a little rest would do us good. I was escorted to my room by Fritz and discovered a fine pair of silk pajamas already waiting. I changed out of the monkey suit and into the bottoms of the pajamas, leaving my upper half exposed. I moved to the mirror and viewed the mess of scars that was my back. I shook my head. It would do no good to dwell on it. I just had to accept it.
I looked around the room and noticed a few old pulp magazines lying around. I picked up one called The Shadow and laid down and began reading. It was very interesting stuff, but after about twenty minutes I was ready to pass out.
The rumor that angels don’t require sleep and rest was just that, a rumor. True, while in Heaven we didn’t need as much since we were constantly tapped into the aura of energy that surrounded us at all times. But on Earth I was basically a mortal. Yes, I couldn’t be killed by mortal means necessarily, and I would never age. I also possessed a certain amount of power and knowledge. But beyond that I needed to eat and sleep…and as Princeton had been so kind to point out, I needed to bathe.
I was awakened several hours later by Fritz. He was prim and proper in every way, his accent thick. He had already drawn me a bath and another fine suit was laid out for me. I nodded and stripped down and walked toward the bathroom. Fritz got a sight of my scarred back and though it was brief, I noticed the shock on his face. That was okay. I was getting used to it. He would as well.
I dropped into the bath, which was of course perfect. I felt a little like my old self…a little. I noticed a box carved out of what looked like the finest silver. I opened it and noticed it was filled with the finest crafted cigars available. I pulled one out and bit off the end. I struck one of the matches provided and held it to the cigar.
I laid there for what seemed like an hour, smoking my cigar and blowing rings in the air. The sleep had been solid, though filled with dreams of Arrisa. Her beauty could cast itself through the darkest dark; her smile could breathe life into the deadest of souls. But now…she was heading down a road that offered no return.
I finished the cigar and stepped from the tub and dried off. I put the suit on and looked at my sword and scabbard that lay on the dresser. The blade shimmered in the light, the ancient runes that kept it hidden from the sight of all but a few. I ran my fingers through my hair working the some tonic that sat on the sink in and followed that with a comb. I checked myself in the mirror and headed downstairs.
Princeton sat behind the desk reading the day’s newspaper. He heard me as I entered and looked over the top of the paper as he spoke.
“So nice of you to grace us with your presence this fine day, Magee.” He set the paper on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He motioned for me to grab the seat that sat on the opposite side of the desk. I noticed the bottle of scotch on a cart and poured myself a healthy three fingers before obliging him. He rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Magee, old chap, while I understand the fact that you can’t pickle your liver, I do think a clear head will be needed.”
I smiled as I downed the smooth liquid, savoring the slow burn and the exquisite taste that chased it down. “Princeton, my furry friend, I think perhaps you worry too much.”