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Tag: Rebecca

Interlude #5 – Vignettes

The Child returned to The Citadel, the stronghold of the Guardians that existed outside of any world’s time and space. Her machinations were, at least for now, complete. For now, she needed only be patient.

Time did not flow normally through The Citadel, if there was a ‘normal’ for time. Time within an isolated system is not bound to the time of any other isolated system. They do not interact, do not affect one another. Still, moving through fourth dimensional space was not as easy as moving through third, and moving beyond that was more complicated still. She needed a rest, a chance to organise and prepare.

“What are you up to?” asked a voice, as a figure faded in from the darkness.

The Nameless had the look of a teenage boy, just on the cusp of puberty. His short white hair was swept up as though by some unknown source of gravity, and his footfalls seemed to stop just shy of touching the ground. He stared at The Child with shimmering, golden eyes ringed with black.

“Advancing the plot,” she replied, not making eye contact. He was interrupting, and she didn’t care for it.

“We’re not storytellers,” he said. “That’s not our role.”

“According to who?” she demanded.

“Child…”

“The First is gone, Nameless. Our traditions are empty now.”

“You’re young,” he said, his voice even and patient. “You haven’t even seen a single cycle through to completion.”

“That’s the point,” she said. “I don’t want to see this bullshit repeat itself. I want things to change.”

“Things never change,” he replied softly. “Nobody is above that. Nothing can change that.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, she disappeared, leaving The Citadel once again.

* * *

Rebecca sat beside the throne, staring into a floating sphere of light. Two others joined her, neither of them as close to the throne as she was.

“What the actual fuck is going on out there?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Nothing we need to worry about,” said the tall woman with ashen purple skin and bright silver hair. “Not our domain.”

“It is unusual, though,” said the thin, elegant man with pale skin and penetrating red eyes. “Do you think Lucy knows?”

“Lucy knows everything, Nix,” Rebecca said. “If they were concerned…”

“I am concerned,” said a new voice, as a figure materialised in the throne. “But for now, I’m happy to watch, and see how things play out.”

“What are you waiting for?” asked the tall woman.

“A spark of light,” Lucy said.

* * *

Rachel pored over the data, an empty sheet of the strongest migraine medication she could find lying beside her. Not everything made sense, but her brain wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t rest. She needed to dig deeper, to find the solutions to problems she hadn’t even considered yet. Pointless adrenaline coursed through her body, and her head throbbed and ached.

“What are you looking for?” Sadie asked, peering over Rachel’s shoulder. She couldn’t follow any of what Rachel was looking at.

A series of makeshift sensors, built largely out of repurposed homeware circuitry and spare phone parts, picked up her voice, her face, and converted them to a digital signal, which popped up on Rachel’s monitor.

“Don’t know yet,” Rachel muttered. “Answers, I guess.”

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a sketch Rachel had made on a scrap of paper. Rachel glanced at the monitor, able to figure out what Sadie was pointing at.

It was a sketch of two circles, intersecting slightly. Around them she had drawn five other circles, shaded in, and all seven circles formed a ring. Inside of that ring, she’d drawn a question mark. Outside of it, she’d drawn a bigger circle, encompassing the others.

“Outside,” Rachel said.

“What does that mean?” Sadie asked.

“Not sure yet.”

* * *

Roxie sat high above Melbourne, supported by nothing more than the air beneath her, cloak fluttering in the breeze. She looked down at the city, and wondered.

Felix’s death was as vivid as it ever was, and it still hurt to relive it. Since then, she’d spent every free moment she had trying to figure out what had happened. No answers had come to her.

Charlie seemed normal after that experience. Whatever that creature was, it hadn’t emerged again. It was still in there, though. Of that, Roxie was certain. After all, Charlie didn’t die. Something was breaking the rules, just for her.

She considered going back for Sadie. Especially now, while Charlie was nowhere near. There was no risk involved. Sadie could be taken to where she belonged, kept safe, given the chance to move on. But every time she entertained the thought, she was reminded of Felix, and she couldn’t do it.

There were other Reapers, of course. Any one of them could have done it. None of them did, and she couldn’t figure out why. In fact, they all seemed to steer clear of this city, around this time. Of course, they all came back once Charlie was gone, but within the timeline of this world, that wouldn’t happen for another year or so.

In the meantime, there were so, so many souls to collect, and nobody but her to do it.

She missed Felix.

* * *

“It’s done,” Haylie said. Alice nodded.

“How does it feel?” she asked.

“Painful.”

“Sorry about that,” Alice said. “Hopefully it won’t be for long.”

“Do you think it will help?” Haylie asked.

“We won’t know,” Alice said, a little flat. “I mean, if it works, we will. If not…”

“Thank you,” Haylie said.

“Don’t mention it,” Alice replied.

“Your brother still doesn’t know, does he?”

“He’s basically genetically wired to think of me as a kid that needs protecting,” Alice said. “He can’t help it.”

“Still, it’s a shame he doesn’t see what you’re truly capable of.”

“Hey, that’s just my lot in life,” Alice said. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Have you considered finding a way to change your body?” Haylie asked.

“I have about a thousand theories,” Alice said. “And no way to test them.”

“Well, if you ever need assistance…”

“Thanks, Haylie. You’re a good friend.”

 

Next Week: Until You’re Dead

Step 4 – Bring Out Your Dead

London, 2209 – 276 Years Before Impact Day

“So, how does this work?” Roxie asked, her gaze sweeping the clearing. She couldn’t see a single visible way out.

“Like this,” Felix said, pressing his palm against the air in front of him. The air shimmered and rippled, and faded to reveal a doorway. “Shall we?”

“You just, make a hole in space, and we walk through it?”

“Yep.”

“Fair enough,” she said, shrugging.

They walked through together, finding themselves on a quiet, familiar street. Roxie looked around, nostalgia warring with a creeping sense of dread.

“This is home.”

“Feels like… about a month,” Felix said. “Since you died. This isn’t your home anymore, Roxie.”

“It’s quiet. And it feels…”

“There’s a lot of death here. Hundreds of thousands in the last month. It’s not usually like this,” Felix said.

“What happened?” she asked, her skin crawling.

“The Outbreak,” he answered, as they started to walk again. “A weaponised virus. Sooner or later it takes over the whole planet. Turns almost everyone into, well, something else. Violent, dangerous, unstable. Those who survive…” He let out a heavy sigh. “You’re gonna come back here a lot, Roxie.”

“Did you know? When you came for me, did you know what was going to happen?”

He didn’t answer her. They walked in silence, and all around them, she could see the signs of a world descending into chaos. Buildings burned, bodies lay strewn across the streets, blood splattered every surface.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what could have caused something like this. A weaponised virus? Someone had done this intentionally? Why? To what end?

Felix led her into a building, passing right through the door. Roxie tried to follow, but found the door as solid as if she were alive. Felix stuck his head through the door.

“Right. Next lesson. Physical objects only exist if you want them to.”

“What?”

“Act like the door isn’t there, and walk through it,” he said, disappearing back inside.

“Fucker,” she muttered.

Alright, just act like the door isn’t there, she repeated to herself. That’s fine. You can do this. It’s not like walking into it would hurt you.

She walked forward with purpose, and was pleasantly surprised when the door offered no resistance. It might as well not have been there.

Weird. But kind of cool.

He led them upstairs, stopping in front of an apartment door. She noticed the lack of blood and bodies. Maybe the violence outside hadn’t made its way in here yet? So then, what were they doing here?

“This is the part that sucks,” he said, resting a hand on the door, not passing through. “Just remember, there’s nothing we can do, nothing we can change. All we do is perform a function.”

“Oliver White,” she said, unprompted. “Why did that name just pop into my head?”

“That’s our soul,” he said.

“Right.”

They passed through the door, into a small apartment. An older man was standing at the window, staring down at the street below. Roxie flinched when he turned around, but his gaze passed right through them.

“He can’t see us?”

“It’s pretty uncommon for people to see us before they die,” Felix explained.

“I saw you.”

“Your business continued after dying,” he said.

“Right.”

The two of them watched as Oliver opened a cupboard, stoic resolution plastered across his face. His fingers trembled as he pulled down a cereal box, and extracted a pistol from it.

“Oh, fuck,” Roxie said.

“We can’t do anything,” Felix reminded her.

His hand found hers and squeezed. Oliver sat on his couch, jaw clenched, hand shaking almost too much to press the gun up into his chin. Roxie could barely maintain her gaze, but it felt disrespectful to look away, somehow.

He pulled the trigger, the gun went off, a bang echoed through the room. His body slumped backwards, and a copy of him shimmered into existence, standing over him.

“What happened?” he asked.

Roxie glanced at Felix, who just inclined his head towards Oliver. Taking the hint, she took a step forwards.

“You’re dead,” she said gently.

“Oh.”

“We’re here to help you move on,” she said, feeling the throbbing of her core, ready to summon her blade.

“I don’t want to move on,” he said. “I just want it all to be over.”

“I can do that, too,” she lied. “Just tell me you’re ready to go.”

He glanced down at his body, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was him. Without any trace of emotion, he looked back over at her, and nodded.

“I’m ready.”

With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her scythe. It materialised in her hand, growing out from her palm.

She didn’t need Felix to explain the process. She just knew, and with a single swipe, she sliced right through Oliver, who winked out of existence, a small spark of energy added to her own.

“He’s inside me,” she said.

“Now we take him home,” Felix told her.

Without needing to be told, she pressed her palm against the air in front of her, thinking about Hell. The space in front of her shimmered and vanished, a portal back to Hell. She stepped through, and Felix followed.

As she passed through, the spark escaped, dissipating into the air. Her instincts told her that was normal, that was okay. That was the Process. Felix nodded at her, confirming her assumptions.

They were back in the clearing, quiet and peaceful. It had changed, though. Rather than feeling like spring, it felt like autumn. All of the trees were orange and red, their leaves scattered across the ground. The sky was a hazy greenish-orange, with no visible source of light.

“So now what?” she asked. “Is there anything between collecting souls?”

“Plenty,” he said. “Once you’ve finished your training.”

She sighed, but nodded, and pressed her palm against the air again. Somehow, she knew where to go. Together, they passed through the portal, into somewhere new.

 

Italy, 1599 – 416 Years Before Impact Day

The air was thick, a black haze that took Roxie too long to identify. Smoke. They were far from any buildings, though in the distance she could see a small village, with very old-fashioned buildings. European architecture, but that was as far as she could identify it.

A crowd of people had gathered around a fire, dressed in dark clothing, voices murmuring. Roxie and Felix wandered through them, completely unnoticed. An uncomfortable stench permeated the air, and Roxie found herself grateful she didn’t need to breath. Inhaling that would have been unbearable. She didn’t know how the crowd could stand that.

When she reached the fire, she felt all of the strength go out of her. It shouldn’t have surprised her, given the apparent time period and their reason for being there, but she wasn’t prepared. Her gut turned over, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

In the middle of the fire was a single pole, and tied to the pole, the blackening body of a young woman, probably not even out of her teenage years. Renata. The girl she was here to collect.

A witch burning? Why? Why did she have to be here? To witness this?

She forced herself to look at the girl, screaming and writhing, struggling against her bonds as her skin blistered and bubbled. Even through the smoke, she recognised the face.

Rebecca?

“Wait, this is…”

“Yeah, it’s her,” Felix confirmed, his shoulders slumping.

“But how? She’s already…”

It didn’t make since. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. How could she be collecting the soul of somebody already dead? Somebody she’d spoken to, who had been her guide?

“Time works differently for us,” Felix reminded her. “And especially for her.”

“For her?”

“She’s… special, I think,” Felix said. “I don’t know the specifics.”

Best not to think about it. Just do your job. Don’t think about it.

“So how does this work?”

“Same as any other,” Felix said gently.

“But-”

“Roxie, do not give anything away,” he cautioned.

“Fine,” she said. “You handle this. It’s too weird for me.”

“Not this time,” he said sadly.

“I can’t. I just, it’s too weird.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Ugh,” she said.

She couldn’t look at the girl any longer. Instead, she stared at the crowd, wondering how they could be so passionate, so angry, so full of hate. How could they watch this at all? How could they allow it to happen?

When the screaming finally stopped, she let herself look again. The body continued to burn, but the girl’s spirit stood beside the fire, staring up at it. Felix nudged her forwards.

“Uh, hey,” Roxie said.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded, turning around. It surprised Roxie to realise they were both speaking Italian. She didn’t even understand Italian. Or, she hadn’t. Apparently she did now.

“Uh. Roxie,” she said. “You’re-”

“Renata,” the girl said.

“Right. I guess so.”

“Are you angels?” Renata asked, tilting her head.

“Yes?”

“Then you can piss off.”

“Excuse me?” Roxie asked, wondering if there was something missing in the translation. How did that even work, anyway?

“I’ve no interest in Heaven,” Renata said coldly. “Goodbye.”

What the Hell is with this girl?

“You don’t just-”

“Look,” Renata interrupted. “I practiced witchcraft. I fell in love with a woman. A demon. You have to send me to Hell.”

“What?”

“Please. I don’t know what else to do.”

She seemed scared, vulnerable. At the same time, there was a fierce determination in her eyes, and Roxie was completely at a loss.

“You want to go to Hell?”

“It’s the only way to see her again,” Renata said.

“Well, this just keeps getting weirder,” Roxie muttered. “Fine, have it your way. Hell it is.”

It’s where you were going anyway, you know.

“Really?”

Roxie reached out her arm, summoning the scythe. Renata watched, fascinated.

“Don’t move. I promise this part doesn’t hurt.”

“I wouldn’t care if it did,” Renata scoffed. “I just got burned to death, remember?”

At that point, Felix stepped in, placing a hand on Roxie’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t remember that pain,” he told Renata.

“Well, I do,” she said irritably.

“Not for long,” Roxie said, shrugging off Felix’s hand.

“Roxie, wait-” Felix called out, but it was too late. She swung the scythe, feeling it connect with Renata’s soul, but it didn’t pass through. Rather, it bounced off, as it if it had hit another blade. Roxie recoiled, feeling the impact all the way up her arm.

“What the shit?

“What are you?” Felix demanded, stepping between Roxie and Renata.

“What?” the girl asked, clearly confused.

“What just happened?” Roxie asked, holding her aching arm.

“She’s still tethered,” Felix said.

“And that means…?”

“She broke off a piece of her soul,” he explained. “We can’t touch her. It’s… It’s magic, incredibly complex witchcraft.”

Renata baulked, staring back at her body. Tears were welling in her eyes.

“But that’s not what I wanted! I just, I wanted a way back, in case…” She trailed off, but the rest of the sentence was clear enough to Roxie.

“So what do we do now?” she asked Felix.

“We open a door,” he said. “She can still go, but she has to choose it.”

“Gladly,” Renata said instantly.

“So you really were weird from the start, huh,” Roxie said, appraising Renata, wondering how one went from that to the person she’d met before.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Roxie said. “Let’s go, kid.”

“Right,” Renata agreed. “Let’s go.” Her eyes scanned the crowed, locating a younger girl with a passing resemblance. The only person in the crowd who seemed to be genuinely upset at Renata’s fate. “Goodbye, Annabelle,” she whispered.

For just a second, Roxie could have sworn she saw the girl smile.

 

Next Week: What Death Fears

Step 3 – If You Can’t Beat Them, Join Them

Hell, ???

The word hung in the air between them. Reaper. Unfamiliar, ominous, strangely resonant. Roxie frowned.

“A Reaper? Black cloak, scythe, that whole business?”

“Is that what the Reaper who collected you looked like?” Rebecca asked, somewhat amused.

“What?” Roxie’s thoughts flashed back to Felix, the well-dressed man who’d chased her down the street. “Oh, right, that guy. Uh. No.”

“Reapers don’t have a set look,” Rebecca said, smirking.

Roxie sighed, turning the hilt over in her hands. She couldn’t help but to feel it looked slightly pathetic.

“Why would I want to be a Reaper? That sounds depressing as all Hell.”

Rebecca’s smirk grew wider.

“Well, they’re stronger than demons. And they spend most of their time anywhere but Hell.”

Roxie tilted her head. “Stronger than demons?”

“They’re the ones who keep stray demons in line. And they can’t be killed.”

“I guess that makes sense.” It was difficult to imagine anything that could kill something that was a part of the cycle of death. Plus, if her experience was anything to go by, you had to already be dead to be a Reaper.

“So?” Rebecca asked.

“I’m not really big on violence,” Roxie said, waving Rebecca off. “Or death.”

“Demons fight a lot more than Reapers do.”

That was an easy enough calculation, then.

“Looks like I’m gonna be a Reaper.”

“Thought so,” Rebecca said. “Let’s go.”

“Just like that?”

“You want more time to think about it?”

“No, I just…” She wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence. “I was expecting a slower process, I guess.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, no, let’s get on with it,” Roxie said. “Lead the way.”

Rebecca put her hand on the door, resting her palm against the wood. She held it there for several seconds before reaching down and pulling it open, revealing an entirely new area behind it.

Roxie followed her through door, into a warm, sunlight clearing surrounded by trees. She couldn’t help but smile to feel the sun on her skin. The breeze was sweetly scented, and she liked the way it tousled her hair.

All around the clearing appeared to be the ruins of a large stone building. At a guess, Roxie would’ve said it was a cathedral of some kind.

A familiar sight awaited her just behind one of the collapsed walls. Felix leant against it, arms folded, eyes closed.

“Hello again,” he said, without opening his eyes.

“Uh, hey.”

She didn’t really know what she was supposed to say to him. It was kind of his fault she was here, wasn’t it? She supposed he was only doing his job, but it was hard not to take it personally.

“I’m not at all surprised to see you here,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling at her.

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“Ha!” He grinned. “I do enjoy your fire.”

“Alright then…”

“I think you’ll make a fantastic Reaper.”

She looked around, trying to figure out exactly where they were. Presumably, some strange corner of Hell, but it seemed far too pleasant for that. A Reaper training ground? There wasn’t a lot around, and no other Reapers that she could see.

“What should I be expecting, here?”

“Heh,” was all Felix said.

“What, ‘heh’?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you ‘nothing’ me,” she said, feeling a lot like she wanted to punch him.

“You’ll see,” he said, grinning. “It’s quite the experience.”

“You-” she began, but she was cut off.

“Careful,” Rebecca said from behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Where did you come from?” Roxie asked.

“Nowhere,” Rebecca replied.

“What’s the deal?”

“You’ve been assigned a mentor,” Rebecca said.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh?” Felix said, bemused.

“Yep,” Rebecca confirmed. “Meet your mentor, Roxie.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Felix said, grinning.

“Kill me,” Roxie muttered. Felix laughed.

Rebecca left the two of them alone, chuckling to herself before vanishing into thin air. At least, Roxie assumed that there was air around them. She didn’t seem to be breathing, except maybe by force of habit.

“Would you like to learn, then?” Felix asked, extending a hand to her. Reluctantly, and a little unsure, she took it.

A very still, cold sense of calm washed over her, radiating from his touch. Her body felt distant, almost intangible, and at the centre of her, a warm, humming presence grew in size.

“Whoa,” she murmured.

“You feel it?”

“It’s warm. I like it.”

“That’s your core,” he explained. “That’s what you form into your blade. If it breaks, you break.”

“That seems risky,” she said.

“I’ve yet to encounter a single force that could break a Reaper’s blade,” he said. “We’re the embodiment of Death itself. Nothing is exempt from that. Nothing can change that.”

She closed her eyes, focusing on the core. She felt the energy pulse and ripple, settling into a comfortable throbbing. Slowly, she let it spread out and fill her, channelling it down her arm, feeling it in her fingers, holding it in her hand. She opened her eyes, let go of Felix’s hand, and felt the energy solidify.

In her hand, she held a messy lump of jagged metal, twisted in on itself. Felix appraised it, his expression bemused.

“Well, that’s…”

“Ugly?” she asked, sighing. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Shape it,” he said.

“How?”

“Hmm…” He took a step back from her, his hand flicking to the side. In an instant, he was holding his rapier, which he immediately pointed at her. “Defend yourself.”

“What-” she began, but he was already attacking. He moved quickly, and she struggled to fend off his blows with her unwieldy scrap-heap of a weapon.

She was pleased to find how easily her body moved. It felt just like it always had, only with all physical restrictions removed. There was no sense of fatigue, or lack of strength, or poor balance. Everything just worked the way it was supposed to, the way she wanted it to.

Felix was relentless, though. She reflected attack after attack, unsure of what would happen if anything actually hit her. Her instincts told her it wasn’t worth finding out, as difficult as it was to protect herself. Her weapon stubbornly retained its shape, though she was at least relieved to find she couldn’t feel the impacts of his blade connecting roughly with it.

“Is something supposed to be happening?” she asked, not the least bit out of breath despite how hard she was pushing herself. That was going to take some getting used to.

“It will when I stop going easy on you,” he said, grinning. His movements grew faster, less predictable. Within seconds, a strike got past her defences, his blade coming within an inch of slicing her open. It was knocked back at the last second by a long, wickedly-curved edge.

Her weapon had changed. No longer a warped mess of misshapen metal, she was holding a long, straight staff, the end of which held a curved blade with a sharp point.

“A scythe?” she said, staring at it with her mouth agape. “A fucking scythe?

“Evidently so,” Felix said, his rapier disappearing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Something wrong?” he asked, clearly holding back laughter.

“I am not going to be a fuckin’ cliché,” she snapped. “Next thing you know I’ll be wearing a black cloak and a skull mask.”

She let go of the scythe, feeling the energy of it flow back into her, its familiar warmth filling her chest. Felix just smiled, adopting a more relaxed pose.

“Fine, so I’m stuck with a scythe. What’s next?” she asked, folding her arms.

“The rest is mostly academic,” he said. “Since you’re such a quick study, I’m sure the rest will be just as painless.”

“Wait, seriously? That’s it?”

“Well, that part usually takes longer, but yes,” he told her. “But if you’d like to spend longer on it, we can delay the lessons on time manipulation?”

Time manipulation?”

If not for the dead seriousness of his tone, she would have assumed he was joking. There was life after death, there was work after death, now there was literal time travel? It was all too much for one day.

“It’s not quite as complicated as it sounds,” he said. “Then again, depending on your perspective, it might be more complicated.”

“Has anyone ever told you how bad you are at explaining things?” she asked.

“Only people too impatient to listen to the explanations,” he retorted.

“Fine. Explain whatever weird time bullshit I need to know.”

“Envision this,” he said, drawing a line in the dirt between them. “This is time, in the world you know.”

“Sure.”

He drew a second line, parallel to the first.

“This is time, in another world,” he said.

“Another world?”

“The world you know is only one of several. Each of them has its own timeline. Though they all mostly match up, they are independent, and not perfectly in synch.”

He drew more lines in the dirt, all parallel. Then he drew two more, running perpendicular, across the top and bottom of the others.

“Hell, or whatever else you want to call it, exists independently of time. We exist independently of even Hell’s time stream, so we tend to come and go in the other worlds in a somewhat non-linear fashion.”

“So, we can time travel?” she asked, struggling to keep up with his explanation.

“Not intentionally,” he replied patiently. “We just go where, and when, we’re sent. It just doesn’t always happen in order.”

“That makes no fuckin’ sense,” she complained. “But sure. Fine. What’s next?”

“Next? Well, I suppose we can teach you the rest on the job,” he said. “Would you like to harvest your first soul?”

“Can you make it sound a little less creepy?”

“Nope,” he said, grinning.

 

Next Week: Bring Out Your Dead

Step 2 – Dying Was The Easy Part

Hell, ???

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. She woke suddenly, almost forcefully, startled by her new surroundings. It certainly wasn’t the street she’d been stabbed to… death? Life? Re-death? Something, on.

“What the…” she muttered, looking around.

So far as she could tell, she was in her own bed, in her cheap, run-down apartment. The same worn posters adorned the walls, barely concealing the same cracks. The same street was visible out the window. The same bedcovers wrapped her up.

It didn’t feel the same, though. Instinctively, part of her knew it wasn’t really home. She wasn’t even certain it was real.

Well, she was dead. Presumably, that made this the afterlife.

“Man, the afterlife sucks,” she complained aloud. “Can’t even get a fancy mansion or anything?”

To her surprise, someone replied. A quiet, restrained voice that somehow communicated an inordinate level of power.

“It’s constructed from your memories,” the voice explained. “You wouldn’t get a mansion unless you were familiar with one.”

Roxie looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice. Someone was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She could have sworn there was no-one there a second ago.

She took in the mystery figure. A young woman, similar in age to herself, maybe younger. Pale, porcelain skin that contrasted sharply with long, black hair and surprisingly gentle brown eyes. The woman wore an elaborate, gothic black and red dress covered in lace and frills, mixed with a few more modern accessories, like striped gloves and heavy black boots.

“Who the Hell are you?” Roxie demanded, vaulting out of bed.

“Rebecca.”

Roxie glared at her, then glanced out the window. Traffic wasn’t movie. What a cheap illusion. She couldn’t help but be underwhelmed by her first impressions of Hell.

“What a monumentally unhelpful answer,” she said.

“I am here to help,” Rebecca said, shrugging.

“I don’t know that I want help.”

She recalled Felix’s words, before he’d attacked her. They’d included processed and moving on. There was no way she was ready for that.

“Well, you need to be inducted sooner or later,” Rebecca said, seemingly unbothered by Roxie’s resistance.

“Inducted? What is this, some kind of a cult?” She shook her head, indicating it wasn’t a question in want of an answer. “You didn’t exactly give me a lot of time to get acclimatised.”

“We usually step in once someone realises they’re dead,” Rebecca explained. “For most people, that takes a lot longer.”

“Kinda hard to forget your own death.”

“Actually, you’re kind of the exception here. You’re supposed to forget. Trauma, and all that.”

There was a sort of mischievous undertone to Rebecca that Roxie couldn’t quite put her finger on, and didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t that Rebecca seemed at all dishonest, just… chaotic? Whatever it was, Roxie was amused to find it made her trust Rebecca more.

“Lucky me.”

“Well, I can leave you alone if you want,” Rebecca said, “but you can’t leave this area. There’s nothing outside of it.”

Something about the mental image that conjured made Roxie laugh.

“What, Hell running out of real estate?”

“We’re not in Hell currently,” Rebecca said. “This is more like a waiting room.”

“Well, maybe I’ll wait a little longer.”

“Suit yourself.”

Rebecca turned to leave, a dignified elegance to her movements Roxie hadn’t expected. The girl’s fashion sense was so odd she’d half expected, well, something more eccentric.

It alarmed her to find herself experiencing a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, watching Rebecca leave. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped in a fake replica of her crappy home indefinitely. Her bravado was waning, and she needed answers.

“Wait.”

Rebecca turned, traces of a smug smile forming on her lips.

“Uh-huh.”

“Fill me in,” Roxie said, swallowing her pride. “What’s gonna happen?”

“Depends,” Rebecca replied, shrugging.

“On?”

“Whether you want to hang on.”

“As opposed to what?” Roxie asked, a little frustrated. “Letting go? Moving on?”

“Exactly.”

She sighed. Talking to this girl was like pulling teeth.

“So I don’t have to move on?”

“You do not,” Rebecca said, the smile growing ever so slightly more smug.

“Then why would I?”

“Well, if you don’t move on, your other option is to live in Hell.”

There was always a catch.

“Sounds delightful.”

“You either move on, or you become a demon,” Rebecca continued. The way she said it, she almost made it sound normal.

“I’m back in,” Roxie said, enjoying picturing herself as a demon, until she remembered what a demon actually was. “Uh, not so big on the whole evil thing, actually. How evil do I have to be, exactly?”

The level of smugness in Rebecca’s grin reached an almost infuriating level. Somehow, she managed to keep her tone completely neutral.

“It’s not like that,” she said.

“Then what is it like?” Roxie asked, wondering if she was going to have to play Twenty Questions every time she wanted a straight answer.

“Very complicated.”

Apparently so.

“Not like I’m going anywhere,” Roxie pointed out.

“Well, the short version is this. Become a demon, and you’re functionally immortal, but you generally can’t leave Hell.”

She latched onto the noncommittal language, firing up a spark of hope.

“Generally?”

“There are always exceptions,” Rebecca said.

“Noted. Keep going.”

Rebecca sighed.

“Demons are… constructs, of mental and spiritual energy. They have a hierarchy. You start at the bottom, with no power. You pledge yourself to a stronger demon, they use your power to get stronger, they protect you. Eventually, weaker demons pledge themselves to you.”

“Does strength matter?” Roxie asked, wondering why Hell sounded so much like prison. Maybe that was a redundant question.

“It’s a demon-eat-demon world.”

“Not a strong sell,” Roxie confessed. “Talk to me about getting out.”

“There are a few ways. Weak links, passageways, portals back are rare, but they do exist. Not recommended. Most worlds have some form of demon hunters. Plus, the Reapers tend to shut you down pretty quick, and they’re much less kind to demons than the recently deceased.”

Once again, Roxie latched onto the one word that seemed out of place.

“Most worlds? Plural?”

“Yes,” Rebecca said, her tone suggesting that was all the information she was prepared to provide.

“Right. That’s that, then. Next.”

“Demons can be summoned. That’s kind of a lottery, unless someone’s trying to summon you specifically.”

“I’ve seen movies, that never goes well,” Roxie said, adding a shudder for dramatic effect. “Next.”

Rebecca’s eyes lit up.

“Live long enough, accrue enough power, and you can become a demon prince.”

“No princesses?”

That made Rebecca laugh.

“I guess you can be a princess if you want. People don’t generally talk back to demon princes.”

“Power. Freedom. A life of your own.”

The way she said it, there was a sense of warmth, familiarity. Was she…? What was she?

“So, you’re…?

“Here to help,” Rebecca repeated, frustratingly vague. Roxie sighed.

“Right. Alright, let’s chart a course for demonic royalty, then.”

Rebecca grinned again, and offered Roxie her hand.

“Let’s go, then.”

Roxie reached out to take Rebecca’s hand, but was distracted by her stomach complaining. That sense of hunger hadn’t quite faded. If anything, it had grown stronger. She could honestly say she hadn’t expected ghosts to get hungry.

“Uh, can we grab food on the way?” she asked, pressing one hand against her stomach. “I am famished.”

Rebecca froze, staring at her with renewed intensity. All of a sudden, Roxie felt uncomfortably scrutinised. Her stomach growled again, and Rebecca seemed to glare at it.

“What?”

“Food,” Roxie said, a little on edge. “Hungry. Do demons not eat?”

“They don’t get hungry,” Rebecca said.

“Well, I’m hungry.”

“That’s… unorthodox.”

Rebecca stepped all the way into the room, closing the door behind her. It made the sound of a much heavier door slamming shut.

“Hurray for me,” Roxie muttered.

“Hold on,” Rebecca said, reaching into a pocket that Roxie was quite sure wasn’t there before. She pulled out a phone, an old-fashioned looking thing, and pressed her finger against the screen. After a moment’s pause, she pressed it to her ear. “Yo. Yeah, weird question. New soul. Says she’s hungry. Ya-huh. Got it. Thanks. Love ya. Bye.”

Rebecca smiled as she put the phone back into her pocket, the kind of smile that isn’t directed at anyone in the room. Roxie kept her eye on Rebecca’s hands, and sure enough, the pocket disappeared as soon as it wasn’t needed.

“Boyfriend?” she asked, hoping to get a reaction out of Rebecca. Rebecca burst out into hysterical laughter, nearly doubling over from the force of it. It took her several minutes to regain her composure.

“No, not, uh…” She cleared her throat. “It’s complicated.”

“Alright,” Roxie said, not interested enough to pry. “What’d they say, this mystery person?”

“How’d you die?” Rebecca asked.

“Gunshot.”

“Alright.”

Rebecca held her arm out, making a pose not unlike someone about to fire a gun. Roxie flinched, missing the moment where a gun actually materialised in Rebecca’s hands. It was a lot harder to miss Rebecca pulling the trigger, the boom of the gunshot, or the pain in her stomach.

“What the fuck?” she demanded, dropping to her knees and clutching her stomach.

“Focus on the pain,” Rebecca said, with the tone of a patient school teacher.

“Kind of hard not to.”

“Do you feel it?”

Yes!” she shouted. The pain wasn’t spreading, but it wasn’t subsiding either. It was static, and unexpectedly consistent. Pain had always felt more elusive than this.

“Hold onto it,” Rebecca instructed.

“What?”

“Visualise it, reach in and grab it.”

“You’re insane,” Roxie grumbled.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Here, let me.” She crouched beside Roxie, and gently, tenderly, reached out to hold Roxie’s hand. Roxie flinched, but didn’t resist as Rebecca guided her hand into her own chest, and somehow, through it.

It was a surreal experience, feeling her hand inside of herself. It was liking reaching into icy water, whilst simultaneously being injected with a burning liquid. There was nothing stopping her from reaching in further, and Rebecca’s hand continued to gently push.

Her fingers brushed up against something hard, the only solid part of the weird icy void her hand was in. Her first instinct was to recoil, but she fought the urge, wrapping her fingers around it.

It was… a hilt? She pulled at it, and it moved easily. In one quick movement, she pulled it out of her chest. All at once, the hunger subsided, and the pain stopped completely.

“What the fuck…” she murmured, staring at the silver hilt, unattached to any blade.

“Well, then,” Rebecca said, standing up and backing off.

“What? ‘Well, then’ what? What the Hell just happened?”

“That’s a piece of your soul,” Rebecca explained. “In the form of a blade.”

“What?”

“You have the potential to be a Reaper, Roxie.”

 

Next Week: If You Can’t Beat Them, Join Them