Afterlife Part 3

As I suspected, I didn’t hit the bottom and turn into paste.  I didn’t hit anything.  I just stopped falling and seemed to be back in that room of nothing.  And, my grandmother was there.  Only, this time it was my paternal grandmother.  I crossed my arms in front of my chest as I looked at her.  She was beautiful to look upon, of that there was no doubt.  But that’s about as far as her beauty went.  Still fuming, I glared at her.

“Which circle of hell did you crawl out of?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“From you?  That’s a good question, isn’t it?  What are the strings attached?  What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing.”

“All right.  Then what’s in it for him?”

There was the slightest hesitation before she again said, “Nothing.”

I barked laughter then looked around.  “Is he here?”  I raised my voice.  “You here you abusive son of a bitch?”

He stepped into the light, tall and sharp featured.  Some would call him handsome and hawk-like, a dangerous bird of prey.  He was able to bed the most beautiful women, after all.  At least, until he beat the crap out of them.

“You shouldn’t talk to your elders with such disrespect.”

I leveled my gaze at him.  “That suggests you are deserving of respect.”

“You never knew me when you were alive.  All you know are the stories you heard from your mother, that Lejunesse bitch.”

“Right,” I said, dragging the word out condescendingly.  Then I looked up.  “Is this my punishment?  I get to hang out with a couple of assholes?  That’s the best you bitches could do?”

I heard the sound of a belt jangling and turned to see my grandfather taking his belt from his pants.  Somehow, my grandmother had gotten a belt in her hands as well.  A long, angry strip of leather with a gleaming metal buckle.  I looked down to see my clothes were gone.

“Well, shit.”

My grandfather struck first, hitting the buckle hard against the bone of my hip.  It hurt.  A lot.  But, I didn’t cower.  I just got more angry.  When my grandmother swung at my head, I grabbed the belt, quickly wrapped it around my wrist, and yanked.  She stumbled forward, losing her grip.  Her belt ended up in my hand and I back handed her across the temple with my belt encased fist, sending her sprawling.  My grandfather screamed with rage, but instead of coming after me, he went after her.  I stood there and watched him beat her, watched her cower.  I always had a dual consideration for her.  I knew she was an abused woman but, like everyone who’s never been abused, couldn’t ever get over feeling angry at her for letting him be the monster he was.

As I stood there watching, seeing the lifeless look in her eyes, the one that said she had gone away and would be back when he was done, I forgot all desire to try to escape.  I unwound the belt from my hand and rewound it with the hard buckle swinging at the end.  Then I raised my arms above my head and rotated them faster, faster.  The buckle came down on the back of my grandfather’s head with a sharp crack.  He fell into a crumpled heap on the ground next to my grandmother.  I turned to her, my chest heaving.

“I don’t care what you do from here on out.  Just tell me which way to go.”

She took the belt from my hands, wrapping it around her own.  For a moment, I was certain she was going to continue to hit me with it then decided against it.  Instead, she motioned to my left.

“Go that way.”

“If I turn my back on you, will I regret it?”

She mused this over, looking at my grandfather as she did.  Slowly, she shook her head.  “Not this time.”

I shook my head and turned toward the direction she had pointed.  Very faintly, I could see a door in the distance.  I walked toward it.  When I reached it, a small bundle sat in front of it.  Jeans and a dark red turtleneck with a pair of black oxfords inside, gifts from my Mémère.  I put this on and went through the door.

On the other side of this door was an open air market.  I could see a mountain in the distance, leading me to surmise the market was in a valley of sorts.  There were all manner of things for sale from clothing to food to knick knacks.  I realized, finally, that I was hungry.  At first I hoped that there was no need for money in this world, but when I saw a sign that listed prices in every currency to be found on Earth, I realized that was a really stupid thing to hope for.  I dug around in my pockets.  Sure enough, my Mémère had left me some cash.  At least, it felt like cash.  I didn’t really want to stand in the middle of a busy street and count it.  If there’s need for money, there’s need for mugging, and I’d had enough violent crime for now.

The market seemed to go for miles encompassing every need of every culture to ever walk on the Earth.  There were kebabs everywhere.  Some smelled divine, but others made me want to run for the nearest toilet.  Before I could actually try to purchase anything, I needed to figure out what funds I had to work with so I could maintain looking as though I had a clue.  There were quite a few lost looking individuals wandering around so being one wouldn’t be that far of a stretch,  but I didn’t want to be one.  Somehow, I just knew that was a bad thing.

There were alleys to duck into, but that didn’t strike me as being terribly safe or smart.  Instead, I slipped behind one of the stands while the proprietor was looking the other way.  I quickly pulled the stuff that felt like cash from my pocket, counted about a hundred American dollars in twenty dollar bills, and tucked it back into my pocket.  As I merged back into the crowd moving up and down the street, I realized my Mémère probably would have made sure I had enough to get what I needed and felt bad for not trusting in her.

Of course, the question was what did I need.  Food?  Would be nice, but it’s not a dire necessity just yet.  Plus, I was reminded of the various RPGs I played when I was alive.  Get loot, get excited, spend loot on fancy sword, then need loot for a quest and have to go hunt rats for saleable pelts for the next three days with fancy sword.  I didn’t want to hunt rats.  Though a fancy sword would be kind of epic.

I decided that I would wait on spending money on food until I was absolutely starving or hadn’t found a different way of procuring it.  Though I was still irate, I also decided to keep my mouth shut about the Bitches that Be for now.  They may have minions in these parts.  In fact, I wagered they did just as I wagered they knew putting me in the middle of them would hold my tongue.  Being all powerful and spineless has got to be a tricky act to juggle.

As I walked through the marketplace, it was super hard not to stop and let the history nerd in me go crazy at certain places.  Especially when I reached a stand that sold fresh mammoth.  The man running the stand was small, stout, with a pronounced brow and red hair.  Cooked mammoth was for sale in the stall next to his, run by a younger version of the man in the raw stand.  I had to admit it smelled mouthwatering.  Really, what meat didn’t smell amazing cooked over open flame?  I suspected even I would smell pretty good.

The scent of singed fur caught up to me and I thought someone maybe didn’t skin their saber-toothed tiger well enough when a hand wrapped around my arm and hauled me backward into the people walking up and down the road.  I turned to see Felix there, Marianne looking pretty scorched and shaken up close next to him.

“What the hell happened to you two?”

“We’ve been travelling the planes looking for you,” growled Felix.

“You can do that?”

“I can, yes.  Marianne can if she’s with me.”

“How’d you get so powerful?”

“Someone had to if our family has any hope.”

“Great!  Then you can take me to my husbands.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Just shut up for a second and hug me.”

I sighed and hugged him.  He dug his left hand into Marianne’s fur then raised his right arm and staff into the air.  It started to spin around.  I huddled closer against him to avoid the wind as much as possible, his robes billowing out behind him.  It must have been quite a sight, but no one around us seemed to care.  Then I heard Marianne telling Felix to hurry up and looked behind us to see a part in the crowd.

Leathery wings flapped in the part, dust rising up around them and blowing out behind them.  I counted four pair.  As the crowd parted wider, I saw the wings were connected to creatures that looked vaguely like horses if horses had fangs and clawed feet.  They were bearing down on us angrily.  I wondered why they didn’t just fly at us and realized their wings probably weren’t strong enough.

My sister’s voice grew more and more insistent, the wind from my brother’s staff starting to displace the wares of the nearby stands, and I wasn’t worried at all.  We started to sink through the ground, the bat-horses almost on top of us with gnashing fangs.  One reached down to bite my sister and my hand shot out to bury in its mane.

“Hey,” I yelled, “Who the hell do you think you are?  A Bitch Steed?”  I looked up at the sky.  “Can’t do your own damn work?  Gotta send some shitty geldings to do your job for you?  You know what?  I think I want one for myself.  I’m taking your stupid horse.  You  hear that, Bitches?  I’m taking something from you.”

My hand stayed buried in the mane of the bat-horse as we sank through the ground, my sister’s hide unharmed.  Whey my eye caught the eye of the bat-horse, I realized it looked surprised.  Surprised and confused and a little insulted.  Interesting.  I gave it a big smile.

“Don’t worry, I don’t actually think you’re stupid or a shitty gelding.  I think you’re kind of awesome and would like to be your friend if you’ll let me.”  I let my smile soften and warm.  “We can talk about it later.”

The bat-horse nodded and relaxed, letting itself sink with the rest of us.