Color of Angels' Souls by Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian Page B

speak.
    â€œUhh, not exactly, Grandfather. I was decapitated. With a katana by a … a ninja, apparently.”
    As he said the words, he realized how ridiculous it all must sound.
    He was right. James frowned at him. “Whoa now! Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” he ventured. “A ninja?”
    â€œNot only me, Grandfather. He did the same thing to someone else that same night—a woman named Annabella Dafing.”
    For once, James was so surprised that he was unable to speak.
    â€œYou don’t say,” he finally uttered. “How extraordinary! Two decapitations?”
    â€œI know; it all sounds crazy to me too! The only good thing about it is that I found you and Dad again,” Jeremy said, filled with relief. “What’s wrong with him, Grandfather?”
    â€œHe’s become a wandering spirit, a Poltergeist. His death has driven him mad.”
    Jeremy was reminded of something Flint had said.
    â€œHe’s like an addict, Jeremy,” James said irritably. “He feeds off your mother, can’t pull himself away from her, and since she’s been sad and angry these past few years, he’s turning more and more red. I’m very worried about him.”
    It was hard to believe that, when both men were alive, his grandfather had absolutely loathed Paul … so why on Earth would he be watching so closely over him now?
    â€œBut why?” Jeremy finally asked him, as they watched the funeral continue.
    James didn’t pretend not to understand.
    â€œBecause, my boy, sooner or later your mother will come and join us. And if I tell her that I let your father waste away while I was partying with a few pretty Blues and some naughty Reds, she’ll be on my case for all eternity. I’m just covering my bets, that’s all.”
    â€œAnd what if … what if I tried to talk to Dad? Do you think he might hear me?”
    â€œI’m not sure he’ll even realize that you’re here, but you can give it a try.”
    Jeremy nodded and walked over to his father and crouched down next to him.
    â€œClaireclaireclaireclaireclaireclaireclaire,” he whimpered.
    â€œDad?”
    â€œClaireclaireclaireclaireclaireclaireclaire …”
    He repeated his litany over and over, giving Jeremy goose bumps. His heart sank.
    â€œPapa? Please, listen to me!” he entreated, his voice thick with tears. “It’s me, Jeremy: your son!”
    But his father could hear nothing, see nothing but Claire. He probably hadn’t even realized where they were. Overcome with grief, Jeremy rose slowly to his feet. Dying wasn’t the only ordeal he would have to get through. He would also have to accept the fact that the Angels were still here, in the afterlife, attached to their families and lost loves. And that it was too much for some people to take.
    â€œMy dear boy,” James said, “I’m terribly sorry about what has happened to you.”
    Jeremy could only shake his head, still too upset to talk. He had missed his father so much! Paul had been the polar opposite of James. He had been a painter. A good painter, but no genius. He had never made a name for himself in Paris, and had barely been able to keep his own family afloat, earning just enough for him and his beautiful wife to live on. It had certainly been nothing like what Claire had known as the pampered daughter of a New York billionaire. Paul had always struggled to make ends meet, and when James offered to pay for Jeremy’s education, provided that he come to live in America, Paul hadn’t been able to refuse. Claire had never resented him for it. She had been crazy about Paul, and when he died in a stupid accident she was crushed. That’s when she decided to move back to New York to be close to her father and her son. Then she met Frank, her future husband. And Paul, an Angel now, had never left her side. Their whole love affair had taken place right in