by Alcy Leyva
“What’s with the cats?” I asked, brooming the salt to the floor with my hand.
“Ever watched a cat just staring off into empty space?” Palls asked dryly. “Cats are incarnations of evil, Grey. They exist in both the living world and in the first three Circles of Hell. When you catch one acting odd or looking at shadows, those furry bastards are actually seeing the world down here.” Palls pushed aside his plate and cutlery. “Look, I could sit here and answer all your grab-bag questions about the afterlife, Grey, or we can get to what matters. You don’t trust me, right? Want to tell me how we can get over this hump?”
The truth was, I couldn’t answer that question. I wasn’t feeling like myself for some reason. I had gotten back my words and the ability to use my body, but there was still something hollow inside of me and it only seemed to be growing. Not wanting Palls to see me sweat, I replied in kind from behind my menu shield. “What can help us get over this? I would typically say it would take you dropping dead, but you kinda did already so… I got nothing.”
“We don’t have time—”
“You keep saying that,” I interrupted, “‘we don’t have time.’ But you haven’t explained a single reason why I should believe you. Why are you doing this? What’s your end-goal? And the million-dollar question: who got me into this dress?”
Palls snatched the menu from me. Instinctively, I stood up, scaring the four cats sleeping on the shelf above our heads and sending them into a mewing cluster. Palls remained seated but put his hands up as if he were a soldier surrendering. “We got off on the wrong foot.”
“Because of you, my whole life imploded. Half of New York was destroyed. My apartment is gone. My parents are missing. That’s not the wrong foot, Palls; it’s a whole other fucking body. I mean, my life wasn’t exactly something to write home about, I’ll admit that. But I went from wondering when my next meal was going to come to constantly being attacked by demons and angels and cults and faux captains. The people I love nearly died. I nearly died!” The truth of those words struck me so hard that I sat back down. “I did die.”
Palls put his hands down and closed his eyes. “You want to know how people get around in this city? Either by the train or Shadow Beast. Want to know what’s the worst day of the week down here? Wednesday, because that’s when the goblins hatch. Want to know what’s the evilest entity in this entire city? The Post Office. I can sit here for a millennium answering all of your questions, but it won’t matter. None of it will matter. We’re wasting our time because you don’t belong here. Your friend here promised to answer your questions, not me. I don’t see the point. All I want to do—all I need to do—is bring you up one floor—just one floor—and you and me won’t have to talk again. Ever.”
“One floor? That doesn’t mean anything to me. You might as well bend over and pull a map right out of your—”
“We are getting heated,” Cain said, wedging her voice between ours. She slammed the last cup of water down and gestured for me to sit. “Grey has a point. She needs to know what this place is.”
Palls eyes darted to her. “I advise against it.”
“Well, then it’s lucky she has me here. Don’t forget, I’m an angel, honey. We don’t listen to pieces of trash like you.” Cain’s harshness took me by surprise. Her face said it all: she hated Palls as much as I did. With the large man muted, Cain continued. “All right. So, let me try to make this easy enough for even a human to understand. Check this out.”
The former angel took three cups and stacked each one on top of the other.
“There are Nine Circles of Hell.” She pointed to each cup. “Right now, we are in what’s called Ante-Hell which is only its first three Circles. You woke up in Circle Three, which is currently run by your friend, Mason. We are currently in the Second Circle”—she gestured around us, indicating the larger city— “also known as New Necro. I guess the good news is you’re just a hop-skip-and-a-jump to the top Circle of Hell, Circle One: Limbo.” She gestured over to Palls as if to say, see?
Stoic as ever, Palls stared straight ahead. “Someone hired me to get both you and your sister out of Hell. That’s all you gotta know, so that’s all I gotta say.”
“Someone ‘hired’ you?” But I saw that Palls had shut down again. Flustered, I turned to Cain. “Why was Mason down there? What do you mean he ‘runs the place?’”
Our waiter arrived, cat parade in tow, and deposited a fresh basket of breadsticks on our table.
Cain sighed. “Mason Scarborough allowed his soul to be swallowed by a Shade. Shades are not your run-of-the-mill demons. They are concentrations of pure evil created to plague mankind.”
I nodded and avoiding reading too deeply into that. “Noted. Continue.”
“Souls that have been clouded by their evils become Shade Wraiths when they die. That means their souls are eternally bound to Hell. Most people down here know these beings as Wardens. Since his death, Mason became the Warden of the Third Circle, The Hotel Gul. It’s the place in Hell where consumers are tortured. They eat, they are eaten, and they wake up again. Every night. Until the end of eternity.”
I raised my eyebrows and snuck a look at Palls, who angrily shoved a mashed breadstick into his mouth and started chewing as he blinked … very … slowly.
Cain and I looked at each other. We each grabbed a breadstick, too.
“You said Petty isn’t down there, but she was at one point? Palls was telling the truth?”
Palls feigned a laugh. “Well, gee. Who woulda thought?”
“‘Well, gee’? When were you born, Palls? The 1920s?”
“‘23, actually.” Palls kept chewing the same mouthful of bread. “Wanna know my shoe size too or did we pass the threshold of being ‘best friends’ already?”
Cain rapped her knuckles on the table, grabbing our attention like we were two dogs yapping at each other through a fence. After chewing on the bread for a while, the ex-angel said, “Ever since, you know, the almost-Apocalypse thing, I’ve been trying to get a job. I’ll admit it didn’t really pan out the way I wanted it to. Been working down there for only a few days, but I recognized Petty as soon as she got here. She was summoned up almost right away, though. Didn’t get a second to talk to her.”
Spotting the confusion on my face, Cain held up her hand. Petty had died way before I confronted that bastard Barnem in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.
“I know it’s a hard thing to wrap your mortal mind around,” the ex-angel explained. “You probably feel like you just died, but time doesn’t work the same way down here as it does in your existence, Grey. Not in Heaven or in Hell. Take it from someone who was in that line of business for a long time. Petty might have died a while ago on your earth, but it takes a bit to process the soul. Paperwork, email chains…you name it. Business as usual in the afterlife.”
I took a big bite of the breadstick and thought about my options. Considering our history, Cain was probably the last person I should be trusting. She had manipulated me into thinking that D, my roommate, was out to kill me. She had been in cahoots with Barnem, the worst fucking Seraph I had ever met, and the mastermind behind the attempted destruction of humanity. But then there was also Palls, who I couldn’t even stand being two feet from. How were we supposed to make this work?
Suddenly, all three of us, as if our sick had synchronized, spat the breadsticks from our mouths. Cain coughed hers out onto the floor, Palls caught his in a napkin, and I dumped mine into a cup.
“I’m pretty sure bread isn’t supposed to taste like a human foot,” Cain exclaimed.
Palls was pale. “Not sure if this tastes like crap because it’s Hell or because it’s part of their business model.”
I looked down into my cup and pointed at the lump of mush. “Is it weird that it looks more edible now?”
Realization dawned on me. Watching the three of us wheeze and cough on appetizers that
tasted like dough made in a janitor’s mop bucket was a big, fat blazing sign; it was the universe trying to tell me something. Maybe it was saying that this ridiculously nonsensical group I had found myself part of was the only thing that made sense. Maybe the best company I could keep was a passive maniac and unemployed angel. I knew I shouldn’t trust either of these people, but to be honest, what other choice did I have?
Besides, I hadn’t been feeling well since waking up in this place—or, in the place I had woken up, or whatever. Something was off, and not in the whole “I’m dead” or “This is not my real body” kind of way. I felt emotionally stripped down. I couldn’t get as angry or upset or even as salty as I wanted to. It felt like I was smashing myself up against a wall. Something was holding me back.
Because of this, I made up my mind.
“I have a few things I’d like to declare,” I told Palls and Cain, rising to my feet. After quickly fixing my robes and nearly stepping on a cat lapping at the lump of breadstuff Cain had hocked onto the ground, I squared my shoulders and looked directly at the two people who had only served as major pains in my life.
“First thing, Olive Garden sucks and somehow makes Hell worse. Second, no one wants to explain how I got into this dress, but that’s fine. I’m not going to hang onto that. Third…” This next part was extremely difficult to get out, but I took a deep breath and powered through it. “I’m here to find Petty. If she’s up there, then let’s get this show on the road. I mean, it’s not like I can die again, right?”
This time, Cain and Palls exchanged glances and both yelled, “Check, please.”
CHAPTER 5
As we stepped out into New Necro once more, I could tell both of my guides were trying to ignore my question. So, naturally, I asked it again.
“So I can die? Again?”
Cain reached over and pinched my arm so hard I nearly fell over. Pointing to where I rubbed, she explained, “This existence is one without bones or blood, Grey. It runs on pain, pleasure, and fear—that’s it. Simple. That’s what all this is: an exercise in torture. You may not break a bone, but you’ll feel it. You may not be breathing, but you sure as hell can feel strangled. You’re even fitted with tears and the capacity to cry, probably as a way for them to get their rocks off, but point blank: you’re a soul tethered to a vessel of punishment, Grey. If that body is destroyed, then so is your soul.”
“But where does it go?”
“Nowhere. Doesn’t go up. Doesn’t go down. You die here, and then you vanish. We call it ‘voiding out’.” Hooking her arm into mine, she led me down the street. “Look, gorgeous. You got me here, okay? I’m walking you all the way to the train. A personal escort, free of charge. Nothing’s going to happen with me here. And for all it’s worth, Palls isn’t a slouch either. For now, let’s just walk.”
In the open air of New Necro, I couldn’t help but gawk again at its skyscrapers and packed streets. It reminded me so much of New York City that I questioned whether this was all some sort of wild nightmare. At the center of the city was a black skyscraper with no windows, just a black spire that stuck out of the ground like a thorn. This main building rose into the sky and vanished through the clouds. No other building in New Necro even came close to its height.
Palls pointed at the top of this landmark. “Guess where we gotta go.”
I sighed and started following my guides down the street. “How do we get there?”
“We can go through the main building, but it’s risky,” Palls replied. “There’s a train that workers use to get up to Limbo. We’re going to ride it all the way to the top. All we have to worry about is getting across town without being seen. That’s fourteen blocks of walking. Just keep your head down, your hood on, and your mouth shut.”
Well, that proved to be next to impossible. Both Cain and Palls walked fast and between my smaller steps and the confinement of the robes, I quickly found myself falling behind. At one point I stumbled and completely lost sight of both of them. Poof—they were gone.
Looking around nervously, I crossed against the traffic. A slender creature with a triangular shaped head and black scales stuffed into a form-fitting suit stepped in front of me. With its yellow slits glowing like dying embers and a voice that was an avalanche of shattered glass, it wheezed out a, “Hi there, beautiful! Lemme ask you a question?”
Now, my typical response would be to threaten violence upon this creep’s softer bits. But seeing as though Cain had told me to keep to myself (plus the fact that I couldn’t find the gonads of a serpent even if I tried) I decided to listen to my guide. Keeping my hood closed, I tried skirting around him, but the scaled creep slithered between my legs and popped up in front of me.
“Hey, hey. Just a question, doll-face. Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” It laughed, showering the concrete at my feet with purple saliva. Then it added, “And by this, I’m asking if it caused you discomfort when your ethereal form was cast out of paradise and came crashing into this realm of absolute pain and desolation?”
Rubbing my temples, I shoved the bastard aside and kept walking, taking note that demon catcalls were the fucking worst.
I found Cain and Palls on the corner up ahead, looking for ways to navigate around a mob of creatures. The large mass of blue, red, and green-scaled skin, or spiny hairs, or bounds of fur, seemed to be surrounding a singular figure standing on an overturned box. His entire body reminded me of a centipede, if all of its legs and joints were made of wood. He wore glasses and waved a phone around in one of his hands so the light shined on everyone.
At his wriggling feet, sprawled out on the sidewalk, lay the largest rat I had ever seen. It was almost five feet tall and was wearing what looked like a tattered crimson cloak. Motionless, this creature looked dead among the other freaks. “Look,” the spiny preacher shouted, “Look! Look! See how this under-dweller was recently caught in this city. We must be protected from a revolt from below. And only one being can protect us. One being who has not abandoned us! He has not,” it yelled to the gathered mob. “He lives and loves us all. He loves you and His love is the Way. Give yourself to Him.”
I had heard this spiel before, but I never thought I would hear it in Hell of all places. I leaned into Cain to whisper, “A street sermon?”
Cain groaned. “Sure is. Except it’s probably not the kind you’re used to.”
“He has not abandoned us,” the creature continued, beads of sweat streaking across its rough hide. “We are all His children and He will always love us.” He paused for dramatic effect as the crowd of demons grew restless. “Remember the tenets He has passed down: ‘Do not kill, do not lust, do not covet…’” It stopped mid-sentence as one of its many arms picked up a water jug and brought it to its chapped lips. After a few hefty swigs, he finished by saying, “… in that order. Ensure murder comes as a result of coveting and lusting.”
A few of the creatures nearby nodded and let out a soft, “Of course. What are we, animals?”
One of the mob, a large praying mantis-like demon, cast its bug eyes at me. I tugged my hood lower and tried to tuck it under my chin.
The insect reared on its hind legs and started crawling toward me at the exact same moment Palls created a clearing through the onlookers and pushed his way through. Using him as a blocker, I followed close by.
Suddenly, the crowd let out a series of Ooos and Ahhs (and a few blood-curdling screams). As I cleared another demon gawker, I saw a large bird hovering over the preacher’s head. With a wingspan of seven feet, and bring roughly five feet tall, its landing sent vibrations into the sidewalk.
Whispers spread throughout the group as the bird, whose shape I could now see was exactly like a crow’s but made of burnt black flesh that dangled from its bones like melted rubber, parted its beak. An ear-piercing screech bowled out from its gullet, followed by a warbled voice that said:
“JUST HEARD THE MURDER RATE
IN THE CITY IS AT AN ALL-TIME LOW! DISGRACEFUL. REMEMBER WHEN DISMEMBERMENT WAS AS COMMON AS A CUP OF COFFEE IN THIS TOWN? HASHTAG GOOD-NEIGHBORS-KILL-EACH-OTHER. HASHTAG NEW-NECRO-RUNS-ON-BLOOD-AND-TAXES.”
Then, just like that, the bird dropped dead on the spot.
This seemed to stir the demons into a frenzy. They began thrashing about, swinging their tails, wailing into the night.
Rushing to get out, I realized I had lost sight of Palls and Cain in the fray—again. Still, I kept pushing through, trying my best to get to the end of the block.
“I saw someone strange just now. She was just here,” a shaking voice shouted. I guessed it was the mantis from before. Several demons took flight. Others crouched on all fours and began sniffing the ground. The street evangelist could be heard yelling, “Our Lord wishes blood. Blood. Blood.”
Just when I thought I was going to be torn apart by the mob of demons, they all simply stopped and started backing away. Palls stood at the center of the mob, holding his black burning fist in the air. All the demons—except the preacher—ran away instantly, like roaches when you pop on a light.
Lowering his hand, Palls snatched the preacher’s phone from his hand, smashed it on the floor, and kept walking.
Cowering like a blubbering idiot, the wooden centipede curled itself around the pieces of its mobile. Cain and I stepped over it and followed Palls deeper into the city of demons.
****
We made it to the train without another dumpster fire of an incident. Something told me that the way the demons had reacted to him made me even more suspicious of who Gaffrey Palls truly was. I had so many questions, but as usual all that got put on hold when we arrived at our destination.
The first revelation was one of perspective. Standing amid the tall buildings had kept me from seeing too far out into the horizon. I guess I was just used to Manhattan—the way you can reach the end of the island and stare out into the water, spot Lady Liberty, look out at New York’s ugly step-sibling who is only popular by vicinity (New Jersey).
