“Um,” Scott ventured. “I have an AMEX Black Card.”
“That come with points?”
“Sheesh,” Scott said handing the man the card.
“Well, off we go then.”
“Not fair!” one of the dead cried. “We are the ninety-nine percent!”
“Won’t be long,” Charon called back as the boat glided smoothly across the river. “Problem is that it will be,” he muttered.
“How’s that?”
“You’ll see.”
Crossing the river, the mist cleared and the scene before them became idyllic. They saw a rolling pastoral landscape with trees and flowers in the full blush of Spring. The air was warm and bright and scented with roses, but the light came from no sun and it cast no shadows. No birds sang and the quiet was stranger than the flats.
“She’s up there,” Charon said. “That little cottage with the white picket fence.”
“Where is everyone?” Fred asked.
“We’re, um, in mourning. She’ll explain. Off you go.”
The cottage was nestled on the side of a small hill. Flowers and bulbs bloomed everywhere, and the grass and hedges were immaculately trimmed. They followed a white stone walkway to the white painted porch. There, seated on a white rocking was an old woman dressed in black. She was knitting and the threads she wove were gossamer.
“The Arch-Sage sent you,” she said looking up from her work and smiling.
And to each of them the woman looked something akin to their own grandmother.
“Yes,” Fred said taking a breath. “We are— “
“I know who you are,” the woman said. “Why have you come?”
“We have come, oh Mother Goddess,” Fred said kneeling, “to return this.”
And bowing her head, she held forth the bejeweled pomegranate.
Persephone’s wail nearly cracked the sky. The four clutched their heads and fell to the ground as earth shook beneath them, and clouds blotted out the sky. The woman stood and grew young and beautiful and terrible before them.
“Why do you torment me?” the goddess cried.
“B-But Earth Mother— “
“I cast that stone away when he died! I could not bear the memory!”
Thunder began to roll and the goddess’s eyes became ablaze with white fire.
“What?” Fred asked in bewilderment. “Who?”
Persephone flung open her arms and it was as if the air had parted. They saw before them a, stone crypt resting deep underground. On it was carved the word HADES.
“The Lord of the Underworld?” Erica breathed.
“Dead?” Fred said.
“Oh what’s the use,” Persephone said stifling a sob.
The woman collapsed back on her rocking chair. She shrank to her old frail form. The clouds melted and the light that cast no shadows returned.
“When gods die,” the woman sighed, “who cares anymore? Who even notices? Oh, people notice when spring does not arrive right enough. But who cares about a sad old man’s passing?”
“But,” Erica began timidly. “I thought that the Great Hades was immortal?”
“All the more bitter his passing,” the goddess said. “He was old. He was tired. He had a sort of malaise. You might call it an Unter-Weltschmerz. For the last few centuries he had even grown . . . tired of me . . .”
Fred and Erica traded a look, and then Erica hugged Mia. The wizard and witch rested their heads together.
“Forgive an old lady her anger,” Persephone said. “I’m just not myself anymore. Truly, I understand the feats of bravery and times of challenge you must have endured to help ease this aching heart. Please, take the gem as a small reward for your kindness. Now go. Leave me to my loneliness.”
Frederica gathered up the pomegranate. The four turned to go, each feeling their own sorrow for the once proud woman. And then Fred felt a small breeze in the still air, and beyond the roses she thought she smelled the ocean. She looked to her sister.
“You wouldn’t,” Fred breathed.
“Worth a try,” Erica whispered. “I really am thinking about the growing season.”
Erica approached Persephone, her glimmering gown trailing sea-foam. Mai’s robe parted as she took Erica’s hand.
“Dear Earth Mother,” they cooed.
Fred took Scott’s arm and strode quickly down the cobblestone path.
Spring came to the Champs de Mars a little late that year, but when it did it near exploded. People picnicked, children played, their silvery laughter filling the lilac scented air, boys wooed girls, and kites filled the sky while crocuses bloomed on the ground.
Frederica sat on her blanket in her favorite spot, sipping her tea from a styrofoam cup while a wide-eyed Scott told Uncle Jon all about their adventure in the Underworld.
“Well then,” Uncle Jon said. “All is well. Persephone is happy, my niece Erica and that wayward witch Mia have found useful employ, and you my dear Fred have yourself a pomegranate full of power.”
Fred smiled and batted her eyes.
“Now what of you Scottie?” the man chided. “Have your fill of the supernatural yet?”
“Scott,” Fred said taking the man’s arm, “and I are going to sail to the Antipodes.”
“That’s right,” he said. “Never been there.”
But even as Fred and Jon started to giggle, there was a small stir among the people in the park. A woman was walking through and among, handing out a seemingly endless stream of flowers. She was dressed in a sky-blue gown that flowed from her like sea-foam. Her raven hair bedecked with delicate flowers trailed in no wind. People laughed and danced in her wake. The smiling woman walked to the three on the blanket and scattered them with scented petals.
“Erica,” Frederica said smiling.
“What a gig,” her sister grinned.
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 3 of 24
Mimi Stealing Ice Cream
(BWWM Billionaire Ménage MMF Romance)
“Momma, please don’t put Mamere on the phone!” Orra nearly plead with his zealous mother concerning a fireball of a grandmother.
The mother and grandmother duo passed the phone between the two of them, seeming to have some choreographed WWE tag team match thing going on, while In the background Orra could hear the deep voice of his father moaning, “Aw Ma, leave the boy alone. He will not get a single cent from me”
Orra was the only son of two children born to proud and spirited Günter and Samantha Duvall, of Lafayette Louisiana. Samantha, the only girl of four siblings, had one granddaughter from her only daughter, while Samantha’s brothers collectively had eight grandchildren between them.
Günter, the youngest son of seven didn’t mind that he only had one grandchild, while his four sisters and two brothers, had given their parents 24 grandchildren combined. To Günter, one grand baby meant more love for her, but to Samantha and Günter’s mother, Patricia, the more babies there was the more love you had to go around.
The problem was that at his age, Orra, who was the eldest grandson of Patricia Duvall, was wifeless and childless. To Günter it didn’t matter how many grandchildren he had, but Samantha and Patricia were going insane knowing that grand babies were popping up all over the place and all that Samantha and Günter had was one. Just one.
Orra always felt pressured but he never reacted to any of their pressure. He always believed that the perfect wife would come his way one day. He was in no hurry to please his grandmother, he wanted to get the perfect man. He had to admit that his age was catching up with him, he was in love with Smith and there was no way he was going to come out of the closet. He had to come up with a plan so fast.
“And by love,” Orra had heard his mother say on several occasions. “I’m going to have another grand baby if I have to hog tie Orra’s stubborn ass and drag his behind to the altar myself.”
All of Orra’s cousins had at least one child, his closest cou
sin, Lisette, who was a year younger then Orra, had four daughters under the age of seven. Hell, even Orra’s youngest male cousin, Carey, at the tender age of 20 had a nine-month old baby boy. And Orra ’s mother and grandmother wanted to know when Orra would settle down, get married and have a babe of his own.
Orra’s answer to them was simple.
NEVER!
The marriage and baby thing was all well and fine when it came to the rest of his family. If that was what they wanted, great, wonderful, fantastic, more power to them.
Just count him out. In his opinion, there were too many women and too little time to explore, to be thinking about settling down, let alone being saddled with a kid.
No siree! Orra wasn’t about to be anybody’s daddy or husband as long as the good lord provided man the ability to make condoms and he still had the breath to say, “hell no!”, when the preacher asked, “do you take this woman?”
For the last few years, Orra had been able to deter his meddlesome mother and grandmother from ganging up on him. The last time he’d visited the family as a collective had been three years ago. After that debacle, Orra made sure to go visit his parents when he knew that his grandmother would be in Baton Rouge visiting his Grandfather’s family. And he would visit his grandmother when he knew his parents’ jazz band were off to New Orleans playing at one of the clubs, festivals, or parties.
Orra knew the most important thing was not to let both his mother and grandmother come at him at the same time. They were a force to be reckoned with if they manage to corner someone together. They were like a set of Tasmanian devil stirring up a dust storm, and while the one was confusing you, usually his mother, the other, his grandmother, was going for the jugular.
Orra moaned when he heard his mother and grandmother talking in pseudo whispers about his refusal to get married and give them more babies to spoil. “Please, please, please.” He whispered, lying back on the bed, and using the thumb and middle finger of his left hand, he massaged his eyes, hoping to stave off the pending headache and praying for a meteor to fall on his house at that exact moment and knock him unconscious. He just wanted to kick his own ass for not letting his phone go to voicemail. Subtlety was not a word that the Duvall clan knew the definition of.
“Orra ?” his grandmother, affectionately known as Mamere’s rich Louisiana accent practically yelled across the line. “Orra , you there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Lisette will be in North Carolina Tuesday after next. She has hotel reservations already set up. She made reservations at one of those swanky restaurants too. Don’t know what it’s called, but the name sounds kinda’ like an illness.” His grandmother said, and Orra could hear his mothers’ snickers in the background.
He shook his head at their antics and then realizing what they were saying said, “Whoa, wait a minute. Why would Lisette be coming all this way, just to turn around and head back to Louisiana the next day when I come home for Thanksgiving?”
“I just told you, she made plans at that swanky restaurant for you two.”
“What the he—.” He paused, remembering that he spoke to his mother and grandmother. “Heck for?”
His grandmother paused and then in that way she had of speaking with no filters that made all of her grandchildren laugh unless it was directed at them, she said, “Günter didn’t tell the boy about the birds and the bees?” she said in what sounded like amazement. “Well, no wonder he ain’t got no babies.”
Orra groaned.
“Mama he knows about the birds and the bees.” He heard his mother saying.
“Is that right Orra? You don’t need me to explain it to you, cause...?”
She went on about how she his grandpa had seven children and how she could tell him about his randy grandpa, and woo wee was he something.
Now Orra could imagine hearing his grandmother explaining her and his grandpa’s sex life to him... in graphic details.
He glanced at his bedside table searching for a pencil or pen to stab himself in the ear. “Uh, about Amelia coming here, and me coming home for Thanksgiving. I sort of have plans…”
“Plans something.” You can fit sweet Lisette into your busy schedule after her making arrangements to fly all,” she drew out the word, ‘all’, “the way up there just to see you. For shame.” Orra could overhear his mother chiming in with her own, ‘for shame,”
Grabbing the pillow from the head of his bed, he pulled it over his face and wondered if it was possible for him to smother himself, and put an end to it all. “Plus, she even bought a brand new white nightie.”
“Mamma, you weren’t supposed to tell him that.” Samantha whispered to her mother-in-law, “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Oh, I forgot.” Patricia said. Orra pictured his grandmother covering the phone and whispering back to his mother, which was a real shame, since her whisper was loud enough that he heard her as clearly as if she was sitting right next to him. “So, I probably shouldn’t tell him about that baby making music CD we helped Lisette pick out, right?”
Orra groaned again, muttering. “Jesus wept,” and he wasn’t positive, but he could almost swear he heard his father yelling, “Run son, run!” in the background.
****
Andris Orra felt slightly nauseous. He never thought he’d stoop so low.
Begging some lady to pretend to be his fiancé to help him save his inheritance, instead of just going home and stomping the shit out of the dick. This was not something he would have ever thought of doing. What was his life coming too, and how did he sink so low as to have to ask a thief for anything. He saw the kinds of object the thief went after. They never seemed to change. He was hoping for his plan to work.
****
Orra woke up to the sound of the phone. “Who can this be at this time of the night?” he grunted. “Hello, how may I help you?”
“Sir, it’s me Rodriguez, I found her.” Orra sat upright on his bed and wiped his face with disbelief.
“So were you able to hire her.” Anxious to know the answer to his question, Orra kept on tapping his fingers on the lamp stand next to his bed.
“Yes sir, she came to the hotel for the interview as agreed and she impressed me very much.” Rodriguez’s voice rang with approval across the phone lines. “I have no idea how you heard about her, but she is the best candidate for this job. She is ideal, but I was not certain she would accept the job.”
“I knew it, thank you Rodriguez; you know what to do from there. Before you hang up, how did you convince her?” Rodriguez paced the Mexican hotel suite, his cell phone pressed against his ear.
“I followed your advice; give them what they can’t resist.”
“Good.” satisfaction filled him.
“Thank you Rodriguez.”
“It’s my pleasure sir.”Orra put the phone back to its cradle and inhaled deeply.
“Finally, I will do away with my family’s pressure.” He said to himself.
****
At mid-afternoon on a sunlit day, Mimi stood outside the hotel waiting for the mysterious man she was told was going to pick her and take her to the interview.
“Life is so sweet for the rich; they don’t struggle and get everything on a silver Plata. I’ll savor every moment.” Thought Mimi. She turned and saw a man pacing her way and she knew the time has come to live life to the fullest.
“Are you miss Mimi?” the stranger asked.
“Yeah that’s me. Can you please hurry up and take me to Mr. Smith, the sun is killing me. The taxi stopped next to a big building and the stranger nodded with approval to Mimi.
“So we are here?” Mimi asked excited.
“Yes miss. I’ll walk you to the office of Smith .” said the stranger. They reached the entrance and the receptionist appeared.
“I’ll take it from here.”
“okay” Said the stranger. “This way maam.”
Smith heard the knock on the door and knew who it was.” Come in.” the door
opened slightly and the receptionist peeped in.
“Sir, your guest is here.” “Let her in.” Orra showed his receptionist the chair. Mimi came in and sat down.
****
Mimi Hastings stood leaning against the wall, staring at her prospective employer with an equal mixture of disbelief and annoyance. The fact that the man was masked and couldn’t be identified was not the source of her ire; it was his proposal that angered her.
“So let me get this straight Mr. Smith. You spent who knows how much time and effort tracking me down to offer me this job. I spent eighteen hours on an airplane stuck between a business man with a cold, and a horny frat boy. Yet when I arrive, you tell me that you want me to steal a man’s heart? You want me to retrieve his physical, beating organ?”
The petite African American woman pinned the masked man with her iciest glare. “I am a thief, Mr. Smith, and a damned fine one at that. I steal trinkets, valuables, objects d’art, and sometimes even secrets. Now I am not sure who you got your information from. However, I believe it is quite clear that you have misunderstood the extent of her services. I am not an assassin. So unless by some chance you actually are after an item, rather than an organ, I believe this interview is at an end.”
Mimi spun on her heel and headed for the door. Before she could reach the exit, the mysterious man’s cold voice stopped her in her tracks. “A moment please Ms. Hastings. Allow me to clarify” The sound of paper sliding across wood caused her to turn back towards the desk where the man sat. On the desk now sat a check and a photograph. The check was for one million dollars. The picture was of some type of lidded box made from silver. “Allow me to assure you that no murder will be necessary, Ms. Hastings. I simply require you to secure the box pictured here, and return it to me. In exchange, I will pay you two million dollars- half up front and half when the item is delivered.”
Mimi stared at the man, confused. “I don’t understand. If the job was to secure this box, then why tell me you wanted this man, Andris Orra’s heart?”
Alien Romance: Interview with an Alien (Football Paranormal Invasion Abduction Alpha Sci-fi Romance) (Fantasy First New Adult Contact Science Fiction Mystery Sports Alien Short Stories) Page 10
