by Alcy Leyva
Not in New Necro. Instead, I found myself staring at a massive rock wall. In fact, this brown jagged wall of twisting stones ran for thousands of miles in either direction and up into the sky. That was the true nature of New Necropolis—a city built in the belly of a cave.
We arrived at a small cut outbuilding with a single door made out of what appeared to be pure glass set into a gold frame. Standing just to the right of this was a wide stone pedestal with a fat beetle perched atop. It had a round blue bulbous head and black thorny legs. Its shell glowed from the inside.
As the three of us approached, the bug buzzed to life. Palls snapped his fingers and like some hellish magician, he produced a tiny black flame on his index finger. After passing it through the insect’s backside, a soft beep let us know that the glass door beside was now unlocked. But just as I tried to push it open, the door locked itself again. The bug’s shell opened and rather than wings, which I had expected, it revealed pages, as if it were a living book. The pages turned and turned, backward then forward, until stopping and falling open.
“G-g-grey.” The book bug spoke with a clattering chatter. “G-g-grey. No admiss-ss-ssion.”
“She’s with me,” Palls said with an air of authority.
“Grey has been s-s-summoned down. Lower fl-fl-floor.”
“She’s being transferred.” Palls banged the bug once with his fist. Clearly confused, it flipped its pages, rocked back and forth. It dawned on me how much it would suck to get this far to reuniting with my sister only to have a dumb beetle guarding a door getting in my way. The thought should have made me angry, but again, these feelings wriggled like little more than dying fish in my chest. What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I feel anything?
Finally, the door unlocked and opened for me.
Exhaling, I turned around only to be tackled-hugged by Cain. Not only did she bind her arms around me, but she encased me in her wings, too. “It was really great to see you, beautiful.”
Shocked by the warmth of her body, I patted her back lightly and mumbled, “Sorry about the job,” to see if she would let me go.
But she didn’t. “Bah. I’m going to get drunk tonight. I’ll find another job. No worries. I just feel great being able to help you. Say hi to your sis for me?”
I nodded and turned back to the door. Another feeling spread against my neck and collarbone, but I couldn’t name it. It was prickly and smothered my legs as well. Was I going to miss her? Was I scared? What the hell was wrong with this wonky body they had stuffed my soul into? Was it defective?
The book bug read Palls’ name aloud and gave him no grief getting through. I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Palls. Even though he hadn’t seemed even remotely as dangerous as when we first met, I still didn’t trust the man. There were too many things left unsaid—too many secrets. The fact that he had some kind of sway down here made me doubly suspicious. And Mason using the words “authority” and “jurisdiction” just flat out made my skin crawl.
As Cain waved goodbye from behind the door, Palls and I walked down a ramp with long tracing lights. For this being Hell, the space was surprisingly clean and modern. No cramped spaces. No odors that reminded me of a violent armpit. I don’t know what I’d had in mind when people mentioned Hell, but I guess it made sense that even this would be better than New York Transit.
The metal train car rattled into the station: red metal with what looked like teeth-marks crunching into the actual surface. The seats were grooved to house any and all manner of body and carcass types and featured a high ceiling for those beasties over eleven feet. Tiny fanged harpies gossiped in an odd language as they dangled upside-down from the train’s handlebars. A two-foot demon topped with six-foot horns swung its tiny hooved feet while clicking away at his small cellphone. What I had originally thought was the result of someone taking a steaming dump in one corner of the train car quietly unfolded a newspaper and started filling out the crossword puzzle.
I slid into a seat by the window. Even though there were two empty spots around me, Palls clutched the pole and remained standing as the train lurched into motion. Four warbled tones came over the PA and a voice completely devoid of life informed us that, “Next stop, Limbo.”
A few minutes passed and, beyond the pane of glass, I watched as the train left the darkness of the tunnel. The black walls fell away, revealing the entirety of New Necropolis in all its twisted splendor.
The outlying buildings closest to the cave walls were smaller than those inland, with some of their architecture sitting as dilapidated slums. Of course, there were giant advertisements everywhere—on buildings, on buses, on cars. There were advertisements for effective noose management, an app whose catchphrase was “Swipe Right for Sodomy,” and—funnily enough—roommate postings on Craigslist. Sometimes there were signs that promoted other signs. All in Lobster font. I wanted to gouge my eyes out (true story: there was an ad for that service, too).
At its greatest height, I could see right into the center of the city where all of the real estate—the buildings and shoddy houses—just stopped, giving way to a large hole that seemed to tunnel into absolute darkness. The mouth of the hole spanned at least ten blocks in every direction. The higher we traveled, the more I saw black pockets rising from the edges of this pit. At first, I took these to be clouds of smoke, but they quickly dispersed, moving like dense shadows as they spread into the city.
I jumped back as one of the oversized, fleshy crows buzzed by the window.
“A Screetch.” Palls leaned forward to stare out of the window. “They come up from the Maw. That’s what that hole is called, if you’re wondering.”
I watched as another flock surged up and descended amongst the buildings. We were pretty high up now and I could see clear across to the other side of New Necro. It seemed like every few minutes, there was a new army of Screetches plunging into the skyline.
“What are they doing?”
“They carry messages from below. Three guesses as to which evil so-and-so is behind them,” Palls replied and then, as if noticing how close the two of us were standing, he pulled away. “How are you feeling?”
I was so shocked by the question I almost thought it had come from the stain at the other end of the car. “What?”
Palls sighed. I could tell he regretted opening his mouth. “Just … how are you dealing with the emptiness?” When I just stared, he sucked in a deep breath. “You’re feeling something inside of you right now and you can’t put your finger on it. It’s scratching at you, like a slow nail tracing your back. You can’t get as angry as you like. You can’t get upset the way you’re used to. Something’s a bit off, like you’re riding shotgun in someone else’s body.”
“How…” Instinctively, I hugged the cloak tighter around me.
“I’m—” Palls’ lips struggled to form the words in his mouth. He left me with, “It’s what it feels like without a Shade in you. All of those emotions, the panic attacks, the night terrors leaping out at you from everywhere. Feeling like your skin is on fire all the time. The stares…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This is what it feels like to be free. You’ll get used to it after a while.”
I stared at him but he refused to make eye contact with me. “Who are you really, Palls?”
The world outside the window was cut off as we entered another tunnel. The lights flickered to life in the train car, casting everything in weird fluorescent light.
“Doesn’t matter,” he answered shortly. “Your sister’s waiting for you up top and we won’t have to talk ever again.”
The doors opened and four chimes rang as the deadpan voice informed us: “This stop is Limbo. Please watch your step.”
CHAPTER 6
From the train, we walked up a steep walkway that led to a round doorway with white light pouring from its other side. We walked through and…well, I’m not sure how to des
cribe my first impression of Limbo.
There were hundreds of tiny islands, their soil silver and shiny, floating in mid-air. Twisting rainbows served as bridges between each weightless isle. I heard thunder but not from any one space, it just seemed to echo and tumble from the air itself. At the epicenter, four suns spun, orbiting each other in a tight helix. Every time their radiuses came close to colliding, the world was filled with a dull Waaaaa-Waaaaa sound.
“Grey,” Palls said, snapping me out of my trance. “Don’t go that way. That’s the weird part of town. We’re going this way.”
He turned and led me toward a staircase and doorway floating within the white space.
“Yeah sure,” I replied, scratching my head, because there was absolutely nothing “weird” about this new direction.
****
Now, I’m about to say I was shocked by what I saw as I walked through this floating door. And I say this knowing full well that I’ve already seen some/lived through/died as a result of some pretty twisted shit already. But yeah, I stand by my point here.
Less because it was so weird and more because it was all too familiar.
I remembered the last time I was in the high-end Asian fusion/coffee house/bed and breakfast previously known as the Hotel California. The memory wasn’t pleasant, mainly because it had been the moment I found out I was carrying a Shade inside of me.
Still, the place was just as I remembered. The Asian hostess from before greeted us with a smile and grabbed two crimson menus. “Table for two?”
“Just here for a meeting,” Palls explained.
As if recognizing him, a shock rippled through the hostess’ body. “Of course! I’m so sorry. Yes, your guest is here already. They are waiting for you. This way, please.”
As we made our way through the dining area, I couldn’t help but notice the patrons eating around us. They sat in booths, hunched over their plates, but none of the restaurant-goers had faces. Without noses, eyebrows, eyes, or mouths, their heads looked as if they had been scrubbed completely clean of any distinguishing features.
Standing beside every table was an angel eating from the patron’s plate. After chewing for a few minutes, they would raise a finger and explain—to the best of their ability—how the food tasted.
“Pepperoni is bland, but the pasta is properly cooked,” one angel advised. The blank-faced patron clapped his hands together in joy.
As we walked past the dining tables, past the ugly chandeliers and faceless patrons, I began to realize the thought of seeing Petty again was starting to make me nervous. I wasn’t sure if this emotion had anything to do with what Palls had told me about dealing with my emotions post-demon infestation, but for once, I ran with it. I wanted to feel excited and nervous about seeing my sister again without feeling crushed by emotion. I wanted to feel happy and connected and scared, but I needed to find the right balance. These were emotions not chewed up and swallowed by anxiety, and I was just getting used to it.
Even with this in mind, I found it hard following obediently behind to the hostess when what I really wanted to do was bowl her over and run into the room where my sister was waiting. I had come all this way to see Petunia Grey again—my beautiful, brilliant, little dipshit of a sister.
I still remembered watching a demon consume her body. I remember carrying her lifeless corpse to the hospital.
That night, we had been torn from each other right when we were finally starting to reconnect. Like her body, I was still carrying the weight of those memories—and of her death—with me. I couldn’t wait to tell her how sorry I was. I couldn’t wait to get my family back. I didn’t know what had happened to my mom and dad, but I was hoping this would be the beginning of me getting my life (er, afterlife) together.
Of course, Palls could have been setting me up for something, too. I was going by his word and Cain’s confidence—two things that didn’t exactly mean much in the grand scheme of things. But I was already in Hell. What did I have to lose?
When the receptionist reached the massive doors, I couldn’t wait for her to open them. I shoulder-shoved her out of the way and threw all of my weight into opening them myself. At first, the doors didn’t budge…but then they creaked. Then they shook. And then they slid open and I stumbled into the room.
The space was entirely as I remembered it: a long silver table with tall sloping chairs huddled around the edges. The high ceiling and almost blindingly white walls were the same. Of course, I didn’t give a shit about the decor. What had my undivided attention was the figure standing on the farthest side of the table, dressed all in white, one arm propped up on the backrest of a chair.
But this person wasn’t who I was expecting.
“D?”
He grinned. “Yo.”
I can’t tell you how I was able to recognize him so quickly. I don’t remember ever seeing him wear a perfectly tailored white suit. Or have his black hair combed back and slick. Or smile. I had seen this guy transform from a blobby little creature to a young man my age that was—and I hesitate to use this phrase because he is a demon from Hell—oddly handsome. But I had never seen D, the Shade of the Apocalypse, smile.
The only real problem was that even though he was the D that I remembered; he was also more demon than I remembered him being. He had two curved horns sprouting from his head and he wore black nail polish. His mouth was even decorated with four very sharp fangs.
But there he was.
I felt like my entire chest had been folded into an accordion. My arms went numb. I was genuinely happy to see D, but he was not my dead sister—the sole reason I had come to Limbo in the first place. So you can’t blame me for blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
“Where’s Petty?”
D, the Shade who was coming around the table to greet me, stopped in his tracks. “Why would Petty be here? She was supposed to come up with you and Palls.”
“Someone changed the plan on us,” Palls chimed in as he entered the room behind me. “Kinda thought it was you.”
“It wasn’t,” D replied, obviously miffed.
“They said she was called up here.”
“She wasn’t.” As if his answer was only the second most important thing on his mind, D walked right up and threw a hug on me that caught me completely by surprise. It dawned on me—pressed against him—that the last time I’d seen him, I had been slowly slipping out of consciousness in his arms. His hug felt firm and, more importantly, genuine. If someone were to ask me how to describe this reunion hug, I would probably just make a weird duck sound (because I am totally good with the feelings).
“You all right, Grey?” he whispered in my ear.
I pushed away, shaking my head. Was he always this tall? “Petty?” I asked.
“Not sure what happened, but I promise we’ll get this figured out. Right now, you need to come back with me.”
I narrowed my eyes at his two pointed horns and the sharp fangs bulging out of his mouth. He truly looked like a full-fledged demon. A handsome one, but still creepy. His eyes even had rivets of red in them and he was definitely wearing guy-liner.
Laughing a bit to myself, I told him, “Why is everyone rushing me everywhere? You all act like you can’t spare a minute or two. It’s not the end of the world, D.”
I said that, and it had the effect of sucking all of the air out of the room. D’s eyes darted around like they were desperately asking for someone—anyone—else to share their two cents in this conversation. When no one did, he cleared his throat. “So, about that. The last time you and I met, the last time I saw you alive....”
While D was preoccupied trying to assemble words into a sentence I could understand, the doors swung open and a chubby Asian man waddled his way in. He wore an aqua cumber bun beneath his baby blue blazer with matching pants. His hair didn’t so much sit on his head as it worked like whip cream doe
s to froth and decorate the top of his scalp. Flanking him were two female demons in slinky brown dresses. Each wore a satin lace veil, propped up by two tiny horns.
“G-G-G-GREY! There’s my girl. There’s my girl.”
He whipped off his sunglasses and dotted a kiss on both of my cheeks. The only reason I didn’t clock him in his big, fat face was because I felt like I knew him. I decided, at least for the moment, not to break his jaw until after remembering who the hell he was.
“Oh, look at us,” he squealed when he saw D standing a few feet behind me. “Team Grey, back together again.”
I tensed up. “You? The Smilie Cult guy?”
“Shuu,” he said, placing a hand on his chest and bowing ever so slightly. “We never formally met, I realize. But yes, I heard you had arrived and had to come up. I had to come and say hello, pay my respects.”
“That’s great,” I replied shooing Shuu away. “D, what were you about to say?”
“It’s just that…” D winced as if the words in his mouth were stabbing into his tongue. Finally, he started with, “There’s a lot to process.”
“Why does everyone say that?”
“I’m sorry,” Shuu cut in again. “I feel like I’m butting in on something important.”
“You are. Speak up, D.”
But Shuu wouldn’t shut up. “So, I’m the Warden here in Limbo. Not a bad gig, huh? I provide some food service. Some music. All for the folks waiting for something to open up either above or below. Been slow recently but otherwise, business is great—it’s so great. Having you and Palls here, Amanda, is like having a celebrity in our midst.”
“Shuu. Why don’t you go—”
“It’s a shame I sent your sister down or this would be a real reunion of Team Grey.”
The entire room went silent. Palls, D, me: we snapped our necks, all six of our eyes zeroing in on Shuu.
