9

The next morning, I awake to the sound of a knock on my door. I sit up with a start and bang my head on the wall behind me. I grimace at the pain and rub the sore spot on my head. My cheeks are sore from crying so much. My backside and legs are numb from sleeping in an awkward sitting position against the wall. I wipe my face, just in case, and run a hand through my hair. I start to slowly stand up. It isn’t easy.

Another little tap at my door.

“Yeah,” I say groggily. My mouth is dry and I need to smack my lips together to get some saliva produced before I can speak again. “Yeah, come in.” I’m expecting to see Thayer.

The door slowly opens and a girl shorter than I am stands in the doorway. She is wearing the same robe as me, but the hood is pulled down so I can see her face. She looks older than me, but not by much. Her skin is dark and her hair cropped short, nearly shaved down to the skin.

“Oh seven hundred,” She says curtly. As if that is supposed to mean anything to me.

“Seven hundred what?” I ask, still shaking the kinks out of my muscles. You think for a disembodied soul I wouldn’t feel so sore and tight. “Where’s Thayer?”

She smiles at me with a disarming grin, “Thayer left a while ago. It’s time to get up. Past time actually. You better hurry,” she says and makes to close my door but stops herself. “New girl, huh? Welcome to the Corps, I guess.”

“Thanks,” I respond as I move to shut my window. “Where the hell is Thayer?” I think to myself. He said he was going to wake me up, but he didn’t. Now I’m late for something, this morning gathering or whatever. I don’t know what that is, but I don’t want to be late for it. The memory of walking into that dark theater and having everyone stare at me from under their hoods is fresh in my mind. Who is this guy to leave me alone last night to cry myself to sleep and then not keep his word about waking me?

The thought bangs around my head like a hammer. For a brief moment, I’m distracted. A stiff breeze from outside blows past my head and brings me back to reality. I turn, almost instinctively, to close the window. Before I do, though, I’m curious about what I can see in the daylight. It looks like a gray overcast day outside. But that’s all I can tell. A huge brick wall sits outside my window, only feet from my room, filling up my whole field of vision. I can’t see anything else. Just brick and gray.

“That’s weird,” I think. “If there is a wall in front of my window that I couldn’t see in the dark last night, why didn’t that stupid light tube smash against it when I chucked it out of the window?”

“Was that wall even there last night?” I’m left wondering as I slide the windowpane back down. When the window is closed, an even grayer light filters through, making the room much darker than I would have liked.

“Don’t expect a wake-up call every morning.” The short haired girl says.

“I won’t. I didn’t expect one today,” I lie. “I thought maybe I would maybe wake up in my own bed.” Even though, I keep picturing Thayer knocking at my door.

She laughs, “Honey, that is your own bed.” She points to my stained, lumpy mattress. “Come on. Time for morning gathering. After that, maybe I will show you how to make your room more … homey.”

“We can decorate?” I ask skeptically. “Aren’t there no Home Depots in Limbo?” I echo Thayer’s joke from last night.

This girl doesn’t laugh, “Home Depot? We don’t need a stinking Home Depot. Purgatory is what you make of it. I would have thought you’d learned that by now.” I don’t know what she means. “Unless it’s true?” I still don’t know what she means, so I just stare blankly at her.

“Is it true? Are you fresh off the Riverman’s boat?”

Riverman’s boat? I think for a second. “Yeah, I guess. I just died if that’s what you mean. Though, I don’t remember much of what happened.”

She looks me up and down quizzically. “Mmmph, that is strange.” Is all she says before she walks away down that hall.

I walk toward the pathetic mattress. I think about rolling it up to tidy up before I leave my room but then dismiss the thought as silly. The girl pokes her head in my doorway again just as I am about to walk out. She holds out a short, stubby hand.

“Where are my manners? I’m Shaundra.” A big, white grin pops on her face again. She seems sincere, but something about her feels off.

I take her hand in my own. It doesn’t feel quite right. I try my best to peek down at her hand without her noticing. She is missing one knuckle from each finger. “Eustice.” I respond, trying not to act weirded out as her stump-like fingers grip me in a firm handshake.

“Eustice?” She repeats.

“Yeah,” I roll my eyes sheepishly, preparing myself for someone else to make fun of my name.

Her grin widens and she releases my hand, “My great-grandma was named, Eustice.” She starts to walk down the hallway again, “Let’s go.” I hear her say from around the open doorway.

Let’s go, I repeat in my head. Time to get some more answers, I hope.

We walk quickly down the hall toward the elevator. It appears that everyone else has already left. I try to read the names and find Thayer’s, but I can’t. Shaundra is in a hurry. She really wasn’t kidding about being late, I guess.

I make a note to thank Shaundra again. She probably didn’t have to wake me up. I try to think of why she did. I think to ask her, but she’s a few feet ahead of me making conversation awkward. “Maybe she’s just a thoughtful girl,” I tell myself.

I wonder why Thayer didn’t wake me up before he left, again. I try to think if I did anything to make him mad. Then I remember the awkward way he left and feel embarrassed despite myself. That wasn’t all my fault. Besides this all being quite a shock, to say the least, I should be allowed an awkward exchange and a breakdown or two while coping with this insanity. Thayer shouldn’t have been scared away so easily. Plus, why say it if you’re not going to do it? I don’t want them to but these thoughts keep snowballing in my mind.

I’m fuming as we reach the end of the hallway. The elevator seems smaller than I remember it as we step inside. Shaundra quickly scans the huge panel of buttons and pushes one with five stars on it. I look at the other buttons to see if I can decipher any of the symbols, but I don’t have time. Just like before, as soon as the door closes, it opens and reveals a new hallway. This one has a plush-looking red carpet lining the floor and dark wood paneling on the walls.

Shaundra steps on the carpet and immediately takes a left. She looks like she has been here numerous times before. I linger a bit, just to commit the five-star symbol to memory. I might have to come back here alone sometime. I also quickly make sure the hooded skull symbol is still there. I want to make sure I can get back, though if I never see that horrid excuse for a room, I wouldn’t mind. Sure enough, the hooded skull is right where I think it should be. I exit the elevator and am just about to turn left to follow Shaundra, when the walls burst into flames.

Orange and red fire licks up the wooden panels consuming them. Thick black smoke rises up and blocks out the ceiling. I look for Shaundra but don’t see her. A yell of surprise escapes my lips, as I jump back trying to get back into the elevator. I know you shouldn’t take the elevator in case of a fire, but my mind isn’t thinking properly. I just want to get away, before I’m seared to ashes. The elevator door isn’t there, though. I jump not into an elevator or a wall. I jump back into somebody.

Immediately, arms close around my body, grabbing me from behind. I hear a man’s voice in my ear. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

Instinct takes over and I thrash and pull at the arms. I need to get away. Despite my flailing, the arms hold tight. I realize it’s futile to try to break the grip this person has on me. Instead, I redirect my attacks on the face of the person behind me. I throw a blind punch in the air behind my head and feel it connect with someone’s forehead. The flames are getting bigger, getting closer. I throw another wild punch, and with my other hand I try to gouge at anything I can find, hopefully some eyes.

The arms release and I hear the same voice only more high pitched, “Easy, chicky babe. Easy. Jeez.”

My fight-or-flight instinct is triggered. So I don’t really process the words. I just want to get out of the danger. The way in front of me is blocked by a raging inferno. I only have one direction I can go. I whirl around, ready to run over my attacker and away from the fire. It’s then that my rational mind steps in and I hesitate.

In front of me stands a man, slightly taller than I am. He is glaring at me and holding one side of his head tightly. The side I walloped with my fist. He has black, slicked-back hair and a few days’ worth of stubble on his chin. Chains rattle around his waist and his black boots are almost covered by the long, leather trench coat he is wearing. Everything about this guy screams sleaze to me, but his eyes are the worst of all. His eyes are a haunting dark red. I find myself staring into them. If my adrenaline wasn’t pumping so hard through my veins, I might have thought the eyes beautiful. As it is, they just make me annoyed.

I hear the roar of fire behind me and I am brought back to my senses, “We need to get out of here! Get out of the way!” I yell, but the man doesn’t move. He just rubs his forehead more and mutters something I don’t hear.

“Move!” I yell louder as I make to run right through this jerk’s chest. I don’t have a choice. He probably weighs more than me, but with my ferocity I think I can take him out and get past.

My sudden movement scares the man. He holds up his other hand, palm out, and starts screaming, “Whoa, whoa. Easy.” Over and over again. The room wavers for a second and the flames are gone as easily as they appeared. “There, is that better? Jeez. Remind me not to do that again.”

I am fully ready to plow over this guy and not look back. I have to force myself to stop midstride. The room is fine now. No fire. No smoke. I don’t even see any charring or signs that there was a fire. With my fists still clenched and my body still alert, I yell out, “How’d you do that? What’s going on? What happened?”

He lowers both his hands, checks one for signs of blood, “You clocked me in my temple. That’s what happened.”

Anger wells up in me. “You deserved it. Why’d you grab me? What happened to the fire?”

“What fire?” He asks stupidly. This guy is pissing me off more and more.

“What fire?” I repeat, annoyed at him. I almost start to yell and scream in his face, but I stop myself. This guy is obviously deliberately causing me grief. He must be getting off on it, I think. So, instead of making a huge scene, I just call him a jerk under my breath and turn to find Shaundra.

Before I even get all the way turned around, I hear him say, “Oh, what? This fire?”

Flames erupt around me again. I can hear wood creaking and cracking. Smoke rolls up, darkening everything above me. This time I don’t react. I’m not scared. This must be some trick, I tell myself. This guy is toying with me and I’m not going to give him any satisfaction by acting scared or helpless. On top of that, I notice that there is no heat from the fire. If this were real, I would be sweating and feeling singed from this much of a blaze, but I’m not. I feel the same as when the fire was not there. I make my best guess as to where Shaundra headed off to and align my body in that direction. I sigh and flip a rude gesture over my shoulder at the leather-clad imbecile. I start walking straight into the fire, hoping I’m right about it not being real.

I start walking into the flames but still I don’t feel any heat. I’m not getting burned. The smoke doesn’t sting my eyes or clog up my lungs. The only thing I have trouble with is seeing where I’m going. I can’t see more than a few inches in front of my face.

“Oh, you’ve got spunk.” The man appears in front of me, walking out of the flames around him. He smiles a wicked grin. I swear his teeth look filed down to points. “I like you already.”

We are surrounded by fire now. I can’t even see the walls or floor anymore. I just see flames. Worse I can’t continue ahead because this guy’s in my way again. Somehow he got in front of me again. I put one hand on my hip and the other I point at his face. “Look! I don’t know who you are, but I’ve got a meeting to get to. So, stow your flames and get the hell out of my way!”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Not just yet.” He begins to pace around me. I think about hitting him in his face again. “We should get to know each other.” When he sees the anger in my face, he pauses his pacing, “I may have some answers for you,” he offers with a lowered voice and a crooked smile.

I must have changed my expression, because his smile widens. “Yes. Answers. I know you want them. I know you’re confused here.” He makes an exaggerated frown, “Oh poor baby, so lost and confused. But first.” Out of the fire appears a wrought-iron table and two matching chairs, like something from a street café. “Let’s sit, like civilized folk.” He walks over and pulls out a chair for me. “Please, be my guest, madam.”

Answers to my questions sound appealing. I don’t really trust this guy, but every bit of information is better than what I have so far, which is just about nil. Plus, getting rid of this guy is proving tougher than I thought. I decide to play along, but I don’t take the seat offered. I move around the table and pull my own chair out for myself. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes, well, that’s the spirit.” He pulls his chair over to sit beside me. A teakettle and two cups appear on the table in a puff of red flame and black smoke. “Tea?”

I ignore the question. “You said something about answers?”

“Tut, tut. Not so fast.” He picks up the kettle and pushes a cup toward me. I shake my head no and cross my arms. He gives me a slight frown and starts pouring himself a cup instead. A long, dark-red, pointed tail slithers up on the table. It grabs hold of a sugar cube from a tray and drops it into the cup as the man is pouring. I suppose I should be surprised, frightened even, but I’m not. Sitting at a café table surrounded by a blazing inferno, being served tea has topped my strange gauge. A pointy prehensile tail scooping sugar cubes just seems to fit in. Also, I’m too annoyed with this leathery buffoon to allow myself to be surprised by what he does anymore.

The tail retreats back behind the man and he stirs his tea calmly. “So, what do you think of the weather, here?” When I make no response, he continues, “In Limbo, I mean, my dear. Lovely this time of year, don’t you agree? Such a lovely shade of gray and at sunset hints of even more shades of gray.”

I cross my legs, “I haven’t been out much.” I try to sound bored as I speak. He is trying to rile me up again and I have to fight to remain calm.

“Oh, really?” He gives me a devilish smile, “Well, that will change soon enough.” I don’t respond again. After a few sips of tea, the man resumes his idle chatter. “Eustice, is it?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I’ve not met a Eustice in a long time. It would seem the name had fallen out of favor, as names do. Well, I suppose it’s only fair to introduce myself.”

“Alastor,” He says as he extends a hand across to me. The nails are trimmed and perfect on each finger. They seem to reflect the fire around us.

I don’t take the hand offered. I just stare him in his red eyes and lean closer. “If you don’t have anything worthwhile to say, I think it’s time I got going.”

The teacup slams down into the saucer. Liquid splashes all around. “Not one for manners, are you?” Alastor is getting angry, and that makes me smile.

“Not to men that grab me from behind and use fire to trap what they can’t catch on their own!” I spit back at him.

One of his eyebrows raises and his mouth twitches. “Touché. Though, be careful. I am no mere man, little girl.” He responds after a moment or two and then picks his cup up again. “I can see you are not one for civil discourse. So, let’s move on. I promised you some answers and I am,” he takes a sip from his cup and looks me dead in the eye, “someone of my word. But first, I need some answers from you.”

I saw this coming from a mile away. He isn’t one to give without first receiving. My face remains a blanket of stone. “Ask, and let’s be done with this.”

Alastor drinks and puts his cup down. He seems to talk to himself rather to me, “It’s not often a soul gets placed in the Reaper Corps without the knowledge of the Infernals. In fact, I dare say it’s never happened before.” Now his attention turns to me, “How then, my feisty little spitfire, did you come to be a Reaper?”

Schrandle asked me the same thing, and he and Beatrice had a fight over it. Something important has happened, or is happening, and I’m a part of it. That much is apparent. I just don’t know what that is. I don’t know much of anything.

To buy time to think of a response, I push my cup toward Alastor. He looks surprised but then promptly fills it. I have no intention of drinking anything this man, this thing, offers me. I just can’t think of a good answer. So, in the end, I am forced to tell the truth.

“I wish I knew, but I don’t. I don’t even know how I died and ended up here.” I almost blurt out more. It’s hard to stop myself from talking once I start. It feels good to unload all my concerns, but my gut tells me not here and not with him.

Alastor looks me up and down, trying to look for any lies or misinformation in my answer. Fittingly, he doesn’t seem to find any and moves on.

“Pity. That could have saved me some trouble.”

I shrug at him. He is about to ask me something else when I cut him off. “My turn.”

Alastor looks annoyed but then smiles. “Of course.” He leans back in his chair and waves me on.

“What are you if you’re not human?” I think I know the answer so I quickly add, “What are the Seraphs and Infernals?”

“Oh, not fair.” He protests, “That’s two questions.” I shrug again. “No matter. You really are new, aren’t you? Haven’t even heard of the Celestials yet? I, as you no doubt guessed, am an Infernal. Demon or devil, you may know us as, but those are vulgar words. I suggest you avoid them.”

“My kind rules over the Abyss, the Hells, the Planes of Pandemonium. Many names, same place. We do a damn good job at it, too, I might add. The Seraphs are our opposite. They are the custodians of Elysium, Heaven, Rapture. Pretty names for a boring place, trust me.” After Alastor takes a dainty sip of tea with his pinky extended, to mock the Seraphs I guess, he adds, “Where we love chaos and absolute freedom, they cherish order and harmony.”

“Angels and demons. Good and evil.” I say absent-mindedly. I knew the answer before I asked the question, I realize. I just wanted confirmation.

Alastor laughs and looks at me with condescending eyes. “Oh, mortal souls are so quaint.” He chuckles to himself, “Good and evil, bah. Nothing so trite. Order and Chaos. Freedom and Unity. Individuality and Consensus. These are the ideals between my brethren and our winged competitors above us.” Alastor sips his tea still chuckling, “Good and evil, humpf.”

“But demons are evil. I may not have gone to church much, but I know that.” I know I shouldn’t argue with him, but I need more information.

“You know nothing. We’ve had a bad rap over the years on the Material Plane.”

I don’t understand what he means and he sees this.

“Your world, the living world. The Material Plane.”

This seems absurd to me, “A bad rap? You’re a devil!”

Alastor winces and almost spits out his tea, “Such foul language from so pretty a mouth. Infernal, please.”

“Whatever. Infernal. You guys rule over Hell, where souls go to be tormented forever.”

“Is that what you think? No, no, my dear. We rule over those souls that value and live their mortal lives in absolute freedom, souls that like a little chaos in their lives … or a lot, as the case may be.”

“But freedom is a good thing. Individuality is a good thing. How can you go to Hell for living by those ideals.”

“That’s what I’m getting at, Sweet Cheeks. It’s not all about good vs. evil. That’s too easy. Too simple. It’s something your unsophisticated mortal brain invented to make sense of this complicated world. Anyway, too much freedom can be ‘evil’ as you say.” He makes exaggerated air quotes as he talks. “Think about it. Total freedom means no rules. It means anarchy! I’d like to see how long you mortals would live like that. With no government or order! Then freedom is not such a ‘good thing.’ People stealing whatever they wanted. Killing whoever they wanted.” His eyes roll back in his head and a thin smile spreads across his scruffy face. “Oh my! What a world it would be then! Delightful. Absolutely, Delightful. Just like home.”

I think on what he has said. Annoyingly, it makes sense to me. Of course, freedom is a good thing, but too much of a good thing can be bad. It dawns on me then that Alastor is right. The world is complex. Very little is black and white; shades of gray color everything. Just like the gray weather outside in Purgatory. Then doesn’t it follow that if Heaven and Hell exist, they too would be complex and not just simply “good” and “evil”?

Alastor refills his teacup and I think about this a little more. If Alastor is right and Hell is about total freedom and Heaven is about total order, then both places must be places of extremes. Complete order and harmony vs. utter freedom and individuality. If Seraphs and Infernals live in both of these places, indeed oversee them, then they must be extensions of those extremes.

Being a good person means avoiding extremes. Being good means following the rules most of the time but breaking them if they don’t make sense or if they are too restricting, doesn’t it? Martin Luther King Jr. fought against rules that discriminated, and he was a good man. Gandhi did the same thing, and he was a good man. I wonder if Heaven has a place for the moral troublemakers.

Life, or afterlife now, is always more complicated than I wish it was.

I am about to ask Alastor another question when he abruptly stands up. “I can see that you are ignorant of your circumstances. Therefore, you are of no further use to me.” I try to stop him and ask him something else, but he holds up his hand. “No. No more questions from you.” With that, he turns on his heel to walk away, his slender tail poking out of his leather jacket and knocking over the teakettle as he turns. I have to jump back and almost fall out of my chair to avoid getting drenched in hot tea.

The Infernal turns his head to look me. “I’m keeping an eye on you. There’s something special about you. Something mysterious.” He winks and blows me a kiss. I stand there gawking and stunned. “Color me intrigued, precious. Don’t let the bureaucrats here use you. They may sound like they have your best interests at heart, but here, the only one you can trust is yourself. Best you remember that.”

As Alastor walks off through the fire, it fades out and is replaced by red carpet and wood panels behind him. I am back in the hallway. I can’t help but feel disappointed. I’m glad the fire is gone, but Alastor was actually being helpful and useful, whether he meant to be or not. I was actually getting answers.

Shaundra stands a few feet in front of me, waiting. I take a half step toward her. Soot falls off my robes and little wisps of smoke rise up off my shoulders. I must have looked bewildered and confused. Before I can speak, Shaundra just shakes her head.

“Let me guess, you met Alastor.”

I take another half step and nod yes as I brush some soot off my robe. “Damned Infernals.” I mutter. For illusionary fire there sure is a big mess on my robe, but only on my robe. The hallway is as pristine as before my encounter with Alastor. Maybe this was one more joke of his.

“Damned is right. You haven’t seen the half of it. They aren’t supposed to, but Infernals always take an interest in us Reapers, especially new ones.”

“Aren’t supposed to? What do you mean?”

“I don’t really understand it. There’s some Grand Covenant that the Heavens and Hells agreed to long ago. It sets up the rules of the Multiverse or some such nonsense. It’s supposed to keep Purgatory and the mortal realm neutral ground. I guess it mostly works. We don’t see many Celestials interfering here. I’ve never even seen a true Seraph. They seem to keep to the rules. Makes sense for beings so pent up on order and consistency. The Infernals, though. The Infernals aren’t much for rules, and they bend or break them if they can get away with it.”

I make notes about everything she is saying. In order to survive here, I’ll need as much information as I can get. Something itches on my face, though. I brush my cheek with my hand and it comes back with a black smudge. I feel like I’ve just scrubbed a chimney with my face.

Shaundra continues with a twinge of concern in her voice, “Look, you didn’t ask for any advice but I’ll give you some. I don’t know what he said to you or why he said it. I don’t want to know. Just remember he’s an Infernal and Infernals lie.” Our eyes meet and the look in Shaundra’s eye tells me she knows from experience. I look down at her disfigured hand and wonder who she was before she died and came here.

“Now, come on, we’re late.” Shaundra doesn’t wait for me to catch up. She just walks down the hall. I follow, trying to make sure I don’t have any more black soot on my face.

One thing echoes in my mind over and over again as we walk.

Infernals lie.

Yes, fair enough, everybody lies at some point. But does that mean Alastor was lying to me just now? Was he trying to mislead me? Misinform me? I have no way of knowing for sure, but something tells me he wasn’t. Alastor seemed genuinely interested in me.

I don’t know whether to be flattered or frightened at that thought. Though, my instinct tells me to lean towards frightened.