Evil - Chapter 40
This time I was ready for the darkness and my meeting with Araphel. More than prepared, I welcomed it—no, I needed it.
This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.
It's not easy being the Antichrist.
Anjelica’s mother never told her that she was a demon. Now, all she wants is her old life back, but that’s not possible for her. Not after what she’s seen.
Anjelica used to be a popular cheerleader with an awesome life, but that was before an evil cult of demons tried to use her blood to open a portal to Hell and start the Apocalypse.
She was rescued from that fate, barely, and because of the imminent threat to her life, her saviors ripped her from Los Angeles and brought her to a safe house in the middle of nowhere.
They said it was for her own good, but she would rather be dead than stuck in boring, old Bronard, Missouri. She was from the big city, so a sleepy, rural life wasn’t for her.
She longed for excitement.
So, when she met a young witch with a mysterious past who promised to show her everything she knew about opening portals and traveling between distant lands, they bonded immediately
I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, right?
It’s not like they would open an intergalactic gateway to another planet and get thrown into a brand, new world with no way to get back to Earth, right?
Join Anjelica in her own solo adventure and find out what happened to her immediately after the events in Magic.
I washed the sleeping pills down with some warm milk and settled down in my bed, closing my eyes.
I woke up in a place I recognized. It was my home, my childhood bedroom in Los Angeles. I was snuggled in bed as the alarm rang on my bedside table. I slammed off the alarm and pulled the covers back over my head. The smell of pancakes wafted in, followed not far behind by the aroma of bacon. An irresistible combo. I threw the covers off and slid on my slippers. Even in the heart of Los Angeles, the wood floor was cold in the winter.
I made my way down the hallway, stopping to admire a picture of my mother with me on her lap. I was a baby, and she was little more than a child, a few years older than I was now. Her blonde hair plumed wildly, and her smile was infectious. I smiled along with her—a smile which faded as I remembered the heavy weight of my task.
“Breakfast is ready!” a deep voice called out, and a few seconds later, Araphel appeared from behind the counter and placed a plate of bacon on the table. “There you are. Come, eat.”
I stepped over the peeling linoleum and took a seat. The wooden table had golden metal legs and wicker chairs stained too dark for them to be reasonably considered the same set. The wicker crinkled to greet me. I grabbed a piece of bacon and chomped on it. Even though this was a dream, it didn’t mean I wasn’t dying for a homecooked meal.
“Nice spread,” I said as I shoveled a pair of pancakes onto my plate and slathered them with syrup.
“I thought you might be homesick, so I whipped this up for you. Being a dream, you can eat as much as you want and not gain an ounce.”
“And I will,” I replied. “It’s a nice gesture.”
“Something weighs on you,” he said, watching me. “You have a question for me.”
I finished my bite of pancakes and put down my fork. “You told me once that you work with the dead. Is that true?”
“It’s true. I shepherd them to the end. Why?”
“The ruler, the one you want me to kill. He is planning something really bad right now, and he killed the only people who know how to stop it. I figured, since you work with the dead, maybe you could…” I tried to stretch my words so that he would finish my sentence.
“Yes, I see.” He stuck a long, bony finger in his coffee. “What I do, no mortal should see. I have honestly already told you too much. If my mother ever found out…”
“I get it, you’re a mama’s boy.”
Araphel chuckled. “You do not know my mother. She is more powerful than you can ever imagine.”
“And how would she feel if the king captured a god and used it to destroy everything?”
“She would take over, and there would be quite a bit more bloodshed than if you handled it yourself.” Araphel sighed and looked at me with his glowing eyes. “I see what you are doing. Death is not something to be taken lightly. Should you come with me…the things you will see, you cannot unsee.”
“Then, I don’t want to come with you. Can’t you just go and bring them back?”
“I’m afraid not. I know who you want to speak with, the four I’ve shepherded along already. Three have been processed, but there is one—just one—whose fate is in dispute. We must find him before Baron Samedi makes his decision, or we’ll have to bargain with the Devil, and you do not want that.” He held out his hand. “Do you have the will to see into the other side of the veil?”
I hesitated, then put my hand in his. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“I wish you the gods’ fortitude,” and then he snapped his fingers, and we disappeared, with the taste of whipped cream on my tongue.
***
When we blinked back into existence, we were not in the inky blackness nor my house, but the edge of a large cave on the tip of an enormous mountain. Below us was a layer of black haze that stretched beyond where my eyes could see. Black ash and soot fell from the sky like rain, even though there were no clouds above us.
I turned to Araphel. “Where are we?”
“This is Yrowet, the home world of Death.” He must have noticed my face contort in fear because he held out his hand to calm me. “It’s not so bad. People have the wrong impression of death. It is as much a part of the natural order as life.” He waved me along. “Now, come.”
I wasn’t thrilled about tunneling further into a mountain on the home world of Death, but unless I wanted to swan dive—or cannonball maybe—into the black haze below, I had little choice in the matter.
The cave was oppressively dark, with only the occasional light from Araphel’s eyes to guide me. I held my hands out in front of me and walked slowly to avoid the jagged rocks protruding all around me. Every few hundred feet, Araphel would realize I couldn’t see in the dark, apologize, and then move back toward me. Each time, he would forget as quickly as he remembered, leaving me alone in the stifling black as often as he walked by my side.
“What is it about you and darkness?” I asked, scraping through a tight crevice.
“The light is too bright, and the creatures of the darkness give me comfort. Most fear what they don’t understand, but there is little to fear from the darkness if you embrace it.”
“That’s…not very comforting, actually.”
I followed him through the caves until a pinprick of light appeared. Eventually, it broke into a massive cavern, with hundreds of crooked columns rising from the ground.
“You cannot fly, correct?” Araphel asked.
“Not that I know of,” I replied. “I did learn recently that I can control fire, though.”
“Impressive, but not helpful in this specific instance. Give me your hand.”
We lifted off the ground together. As we passed into the canyon, a gust of wind rushed through me—not into me, but straight through me—and I remembered that I was still asleep, lost in hallucination.
“These columns used to house hundreds of reapers and thousands of imps who kept the whole of the universe moving toward the beautiful dance of death.”
As we neared one of the columns, I saw that they were offices, cubicles really, stacked on top of each other. Most of them were empty and, if their level of disrepair was any indication, they had been for some time. Mixed with the dark, though, lights speckled the columns occasionally, and in every lit room, a reaper in a long black robe wrote with an ancient quill and pen on a piece of parchment.
“So, death is just an ancient bureaucracy?”
“We were the model around which all other bureaucracies formed. Major governments all over the universe owe their existence to this cavern.” He sighed deeply. “Of course, we are long past our peak.”
He grew quiet, which was fine by me. I was happy to feel the air flow through my body and watch the crooked towers as they passed. After several minutes of floating, I realized we were heading to a large, tall tower built on top of a colossal stalagmite directly in the center of the cavern. Unlike the other buildings, which were uniform in structure, plain and mundane as the next, this tower was intricately carved with gargoyles and demons guarding the outside in stone relief.
Araphel stepped down onto the cold rock and walked toward the wooden door. He grabbed the metal door knocker depicting a screaming demon and slammed it down. After a moment, the door creaked open, and Araphel led us both inside. He walked up to a large round desk piled with books both on top of and behind it.
“This is my mother’s private archive. It houses her personal collection, along with the name of every dead soul in the universe.” An ancient demon, gray rather than the red or orange I had grown to expect, hobbled forward on a cane. He focused his coke-bottle glasses at Araphel as he stroked a long, gray beard.
“What ho, Hjilin?” Araphel asked.
“It is the same as it was and the same as it will be. What can I do with you, Master Araphel?”
“I am looking for records on a dead soul. A Mister Giudal Tery, from Earth 39429. I need a requisition form to speak with the fellow. I believe that’s FMJ-2201, if I’m not mistaken.” He turned to me and leaned close. “I am not mistaken.”
“Very well, Master Araphel.” The old demon walked away. “It shouldn’t take more than a hundred years or so to process this request.”
“A hundred years!” I shouted. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Young lady, will you please be quiet…this is a library.”
“The girl is right, Hjilin, though she’s gone about it in a very impolite manner. Perhaps you could tell me the reaper who covers that quadrant, and I could speak to them about expediting my request.”
Hjilin tsked. “Very unorthodox. Very unorthodox indeed. Master Thanatos would never—”
Araphel slammed his hands on the table. “My brother is not here!” He cleared his throat and cracked a crooked smile. “He hasn’t been here in a long time, and it’s time you got used to the new order.”
“Rudeness is another thing he would never tolerate. However, since this request will no doubt get you out of my hair, I’ll give you the name.”
“And I will gladly go,” Araphel grumbled with the kind of seething anger that only came from having a long history with somebody. “Gladly.”
This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.