Than left Charon and headed to Mexico to escort the souls of three teenagers who had died in an earthquake. He would be making several more trips there over the next few days as the frail human bodies gradually expired. He had disintegrated and dispatched himself to four other locations--Turkey, Japan, Iraq, and Egypt. It was a busy day, busier than usual, and because of the disintegration, he found it a little more difficult to keep his mind on his duties.
Therese had come back, had called out his name. He knew she wanted her parents, like so many of the survivors whose family members he carried away. Than had learned to block those futile prayers, “Spare my sister,” “Bring my child back to me,” “Let my husband be alive when we find him,” and so forth. He had blocked them because there was nothing he could do about them. Therese’s prayers were no different. He could not help her.
Yet, he couldn’t forget the feel of her soulful arms around him, the sensations of her warm lips against his, and the scent of her sweet breath. No one—human or god—had ever touched him like that. His mother must have when he was a baby, but he had no memory of it. If Therese’s spirit were capable of making him feel so much sensual pleasure, how much more pleasurable could she make him feel in the flesh?
Only now did he become aware of what he had been missing.
He disintegrated and dispatched another part of himself to the poppy field beside Hip’s rooms. Than wanted to re-enter the dream world and talk some more to his brother, even on this busiest of days.