Paradise Lost Boxed Set

by R. E. Vance

  I forced myself to think. I am under three stories of compressed brick and mortar and flattened furniture, I told myself, with an incredibly powerful freak who wants me to go to sleep and make out with the dream of my dead wife, in order to … what? Complete some ritual? My head throbbed and I was suffering from the worst hangover of my life. Man, I would have killed for an aspirin.

  Still, I had to admit, I’d been in worse situations. At least this wasn’t Christmas Day dinner with my mother-in-law. Thank the GoneGods for small miracles.

  OK, so what could I do? I was in too much pain to fight, which left me with only one remaining asset: my affable personality.

  “You’re mortal, too,” I said, giving Grinner my best Don’t bullshit a bullshitter look.

  Grinner’s smile faltered. If I pissed him off, maybe he’d make a mistake. He might just squash us like bugs, but given the stalemate we were in, that would be an improvement.

  “Mortal, mortal, mortal, mortal,” I sang to the melody of the Batman TV series theme song.

  “Don’t call me that!” he said. He was no longer smiling. Moreover, his lips were pursed. Hellelujah! You know, with his mouth shut, he almost looked human. Hell, at that moment he might have been. But then that unnatural smile returned as he regained composure, putting him back firmly into the Other category. “The Earth’s atmosphere is filled with little tiny spheres that bounce around but are still connected to one another. Atoms, I believe you call them. You mortals have even named them—carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen. Tell me, what will happen when I push together the atoms called oxygen and hydrogen?”

  As he spoke he waved one hand over the box and it disappeared—probably to the same place that wineglass had been. He then lifted his pinkie finger and the air around me became very wet. I couldn’t breathe. This Fanatic was waterboarding me. In midair. Frig! Grinner lowered his pinkie and the water fell to the ground. “Are we done with your little game?”

  “Mor-taaal,” I sang, but before he could turn air into water, I yelped, “I’m done, I’m done. Promise.”

  Grinner nodded. “Now that the pleasantries are over, let us return to the subject at hand. Life and death are different stages of all mortals’ lives. On and off. Alive and dead. But what can be turned off can be turned on. What can die can live again. Through me.” His smile widened with those last words, as Hermes shuddered under the weight of Grinner’s gravitational push. “Human Jean, have you considered my request?”

  “I would,” I said, “but again, no body, no Bella, so—”

  “No, Jean,” Hermes said, his eyes wide with excitement, “Bella is alive. And in the Void. The Avatar plans on bringing the Void down to Earth and reuniting her with you.”

  Grinner clapped. “Indeed, I do!” he said, overjoyed.

  “By the GoneGods, it worked,” Hermes muttered to himself. Then, looking up, he cried out, “It worked. I can’t believe it. It worked!” Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

  “What worked?” I asked.

  “The experiment … Don’t you see?” He dropped, kneeling, before me and took my hands in his. His words tumbled out of him: “The experiment was to get back into the existing plane that once was Heaven. Get back inside and turn on the lights, so to speak. The only thing that could get back inside was a human soul. But when Bella died, we couldn’t find any of the empty dimensions. That’s why we thought it failed.”

  “I don’t understand. If he can bring down the Void, then he should do it already. Why do you need me or Bella?”

  “Hermes,” Grinner said, sipping from a new wineglass—damn, this guy could open for David Copperfield. “Please enlighten the mortal.”

  “Others—creatures like us,” he said, pointing at Grinner, “we can travel between planes of existence, but only if we are invited. Only souls, human souls, can get in uninvited. And once in, they could—potentially—invite the rest of us in.” Hermes stood up, free of the Avatar’s gravity, and raised his hands to the sky. “And it worked. Don’t you see? She didn’t fail. Her soul lives on. She lives. Bella lives!” Tears streamed from the messenger demigod’s face as he spoke the words.

  What? Bella was alive? All these years, all our nightly rendezvous, I had always believed I was just suffering from the happy hallucinations of a man who couldn’t let go of the only person he truly loved. I was being told there was nothing to let go of, she’d just gone somewhere else. And this Grinner—this Fanatic who could will the powers of gravity like someone commanding his legs to move or his eyes to open—was offering me a way back to her. So that we could be together again. It was damn tempting. We could find some place to call our own and live the life we were meant to live. Our own little version of Heaven.

  Together.

  Forever.

  Hey, a guy can dream, can’t he?

  But I also knew that if it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. Grinner wanted to be a god, and by reopening the Void, he would succeed. But that was not Bella’s vision—to put a guy like him back on the throne—and even though he was the only contender right now, I seriously doubted that the Avatar of Gravity was going to be one of those benevolent, validating gods. He was more of the touchy-feely, I’m-going-to-hurt-you-if-you-don’t-obey type of gods.

  No. Getting Bella back meant that the world would burn because of us. For us.

  Still—with Bella in my arms … would we feel those flames?

  There was one more thing to consider. My promise. It wasn’t made to the dream of her, like I had always thought. It was made to her—the real Bella. I promised to take care of Others, protect them and help them grow and be whole in this GoneGod World.

  Now, I know that it was ridiculous to be thinking about that when Bella was only a kiss away. I mean, come on, Jean—break your promise already. Be together. Be happy. I might have considered that when I believed the promise was made to a figment of the imagination of a delusional, schizophrenic hotelier. But my promise was made to Bella’s living soul and I could no more break a promise made to her than I could move to the Moon.

  “What … what do you get out of this?” I asked Grinner.

  The creature’s smile became wider and wider. “Why, to help, of course. And be appropriately rewarded for such help.”

  “Rewarded? How?”

  “How else? Godhood.”

  Just what I thought. I shook my head and said the hardest word I’d ever had to say: “No.”

  If Heaven were to reopen, then it had to be done by someone else. Someone like Miral or Michael. Hell, even CaCa would be a better candidate. And if they didn’t have the power to do it, they would find someone who did. Someone they trusted. Someone we knew wouldn’t oppress the world for an ego trip.

  At my refusal, I had expected Grinner to stop smiling, but instead his grin widened until the edges of his lip touched each other on the back of his skull. Then he gestured at Hermes, as if his lips were stretched too far to explain himself. Maybe they were.

  Hermes looked around nervously before whispering, “There are other ways. More painful ways. A kiss is best because it creates an emotional bridge between the two of you. But a less stable bridge could be created if he were to torture you in front of her, or …” His voice trailed off.

  “Or?” I said.

  Hermes hesitated, casting a glance over at Grinner before continuing his line of thought, as if he didn’t want to give the maniac any ideas. The expression on Grinner’s face clearly said that he had considered everything.

  Hermes finally said, “Or he could simply kill you in front of her. Seeing you die will stir enough emotion to create the bridge. It might not last, but he only needs a few minutes to bind the Void.”

  “Oh?” I said. So celibacy wasn’t an option. “Wh—where?” I managed, gripping my head and trying to keep my brains from rattling around in all that empty space.

  Hermes had the same question, because he immediately asked, “Which existence is she in?”

  “When the gods came
together to create their realms, they made so many. Nirvana, Fólkvangr, Otherworld, Elysium … Heaven,” Grinner said. “And, in time, perhaps a hell or two.”

  Hermes’s eyes widened and, taking my hand in his, he said, “Heaven … that is the largest of all realms.” As he spoke, he handed me a bit of broken wax, careful not to let Grinner see.

  I quickly slid it into my jacket pocket, unsure how Hermes expected a little chunk of candle to help me.

  Hermes said to me, “Bella was the best of us. That is why she was chosen.”

  “Chosen,” I said. “You mean sacrificed.”

  Standing, Hermes gave me a guilty look. “Yes, sacrificed. And for that I am truly sorry. But don’t you see? She lives. That is why this creature is here now. To find Bella. Things can be made right again.”

  “And when they are made right—” Grinner’s smile widened once more as he gulped the last of the wine down “—I shall be the Alpha in a universe without an Omega. I shall be all and, through me, all shall be.”

  “Indeed,” Hermes said, his back to Grinner. “Jean. Would you be so kind as to do me a small favor?”

  “Sure,” I grunted.

  “RUN!” he screamed. Then he turned and unleashed the hell-holy blue flames of Tartarus on the Avatar of Gravity.

  Run, Lola, Run

  Flames of blue and red and orange and white consumed Grinner, encircling him in a hundred thousand shades of heat. He lifted a hand and the flames rushed against an invisible force field. The fire no longer touched him.

  But at least he wasn’t smiling anymore.

  I wasn’t a creature of magic, and being in that hot box was overwhelming—I now know how a turkey feels in an oven. I took a step back, searching for a way out. Directly above me hung the compressed remains of the building. Three stories of rubble flattened to three inches thick. But a structure like this was never meant to be. There had to be a weak spot.

  My hand ran over the ceiling and for the first time in my life I was actually annoyed not to get a splinter or paper cut. I thrust my hand at the scabbard on my hip, thanking the GoneGods that I hadn’t lost it in the fall. Drawing my sword, I thrust it into the mulch, digging for something to pull at. Again and again I stabbed until—clink—the tip hit a piece of loose metal. Using my blade, I pried out a bit of chandelier and pulled.

  I leveraged my weight and anger, and forced the unsure ceiling to collapse in on itself, and some of it on me. There was a hole above. And what’s more, enough debris that I could climb up.

  I looked back at the battle that raged with the fury of Revelations, Ragnarök and Armageddon all wrapped in one, and marvelled at how contained and focused it was, given the kinds of energy being hurled about. Perhaps if I waited, Grinner would stumble just long enough for me to grab Hermes and the two of us could make a run for it. Besides, I enjoyed seeing Grinner sweat.

  I noticed that Hermes also allowed himself to burn, the wax from his candles melting around him, forming a shield against the flames and Grinner’s counterattacks. Hermes was a tank, the wax his steel shell, his flames the nozzle of his gun.

  “Give him hell!” I screamed. And I immediately regretted it because it made me feel like someone had turned on a blender inside my head.

  It did have a bit of an effect, though—Grinner turned in my direction and momentarily lowered his shield, which caused a bit of flame to get through and burn him. He yelped and I put a notch in the “win” column for Hermes. But another part of me grimaced—although it had so far shown a resilience that defied, well, gravity, there was no way in Hell Joseph’s box could survive this flaming deluge.

  And just when I thought Hermes had Grinner on the ropes, the wannabe Alpha god threw his wineglass at Hermes’s feet—a seemingly ineffectual, impotent gesture, given the holy-fire fury that Hermes shot at the maniacal Avatar of Gravity. Shards of wafer-thin glass landed at Hermes’s feet, and that was when I knew with increasing horror what Grinner was about to do. Gravity ceased. No, not ceased … reversed.

  But because Hermes was covered with his magical wax, he was unaffected by the reversal of gravity, as tiny, razor-sharp pieces of glass flew up, slicing him on the way. Then gravity restarted, cranked up so high that the same shards plummeted back down, cutting up the old man all the more. A thousand little lacerations smaller than paper cuts covered his body, each blooming with tiny crimson bubbles of blood.

  Hermes healed himself in the light of the fire, his eyes widening as he realized the stakes at hand. It was a war of attrition—first one to burn out loses—and time was not on Hermes’s side. The once-old man turned ancient as his hand remained outstretched, a heat hotter than the Sun engulfing Grinner.

  I crouched and readied my sword. But the heat was too much and I didn’t have magic to protect me long enough to get close.

  Hermes looked over and saw what I was thinking. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Don’t, you fool,” redoubling his efforts as renewed magic flowed out of his outstretched hand. “Get out of here and find Bella. She’ll know what to do.” He was determined to hold Grinner at bay long enough for me to get away. This final sacrifice would kill him.

  Frustrated, I sheathed my hunting sword and scampered up the hole, clinging to the fallen debris, using whatever my hands and feet could find as leverage.

  As I scrambled out, I allowed myself to quickly look back. What I saw was Hermes’s body frozen, his hand still out, held up as if by rigor mortis. And somehow, his magic persisted. Perhaps it was the remnants of his soul pushing forth, perhaps the will of his life continuing past death, I don’t know. Whatever it was, his body deflated as he pushed out beyond life, until he was nothing more than bone. And still he fought on until that bone finally turned to dust.

  It would be seconds before Grinner broke free.

  I got through the rubble and outside. The sewer grate I had climbed out of was still open. I jumped in, allowing human and Other refuse to break my fall. My head throbbed as I landed, the impact cracking several ribs. I wheezed and, as I stood, my leg sent thunderbolts of agony through me. On top of the broken ribs, I had also twisted my ankle.

  But none of that compared to the pain in my head. A haze of fireflies swarmed my vision, blinding me with pain and light.

  Get up, Jean! Come on, I thought. Every time I tried to move, my head throbbed as if my skull were the leather surface of a bass drum.

  So this is how it ends, I thought. Not with a bang, but with a whimper of blinding pain.

  Damn it! I didn’t mind going down, but I hated the idea that it was Joseph’s and Hermes’s megalo-I-wanna-be-a-god-maniacal killer who was responsible.

  As these thoughts ran through my head, Bella blurred into sight. She reached out for me, her embrace stretching across the impossible expanse, and still she could not draw close enough. This was the end and she was too far away to comfort me. Then, as if the danger were over and everything were suddenly OK, she gave me her You were worried about nothing, silly smile and a hand reached out for me and pulled.

  I focused on my rescuer and saw a big, fecal-infested arm that smelled to high Heaven. I held on to this limb that felt like sun-baked waste and cried out, “CaCa! You’re an angel!”

  CaCa helped me up as TinkerBelle floated past. “Tink,” I said. “You’re not hid—” But the thought was cut off by what felt like someone shoving a cattle prod through my ear and into my brain.

  Tink shook her head. She understood what I wanted to say. But when she looked over at CaCa with understanding eyes, I got it. Tink was hidden away from the world, just as much an exile as CaCa, but not because she was ugly—because she was beauty incarnate. But unlike CaCa, who suffered scorn, the petty villagers chasing him away with their pitchforks, those very same petty villagers wanted to possess Tink. Own her. Enslave her.

  CaCa and Tink exchanged glances, speaking some silent language, both nodding simultaneously. Then Tink pulled out her little wand and a puff of fairy dust floated past my nose. With a deep inhale, I sucked
in the dust, and in an instant all the pain and dizziness went away. My head felt perfectly fine. Better than fine. Free and clear. Hell yeah! Fairy dust—Tylenol should patent the stuff!

  CaCa put his hand around my ankle, forming a cast made from GoneGods-knew-what. Not just any cast, but something warm and healing and comforting. Once you got past the smell.

  I looked over at the two Others that were putting themselves into harm’s way for me, not only healing me, but giving me a second chance. A second chance that I swore not to throw away. “Thank you,” I said to both of them. “But you’ve done enough. More than enough. I need you both to hide. Now.”

  But my words came too late—as I uttered them, the road above peeled back like the lid on a sardine can.

  Standing not fifty feet above us was Grinner.

  ↔

  CaCa immediately released his terra-firma-squid attack on Grinner, which resulted in a cloud of dark, pungent smoke filling the room. The cloud also got me and I started to curse CaCa—until I saw what he was really doing. He was hiding Tink, who fluttered away and down the sewage pipes at an ungodly speed. Go, CaCa! I would have to start paying him for his paintings.

  Grinner’s face convulsed as the smell reached him, his maddeningly wide smile turning into a frown of disgust and indignation. He pushed his hands together, forcing the cloud to compress into a sphere slightly bigger than a bowling ball, then dropped it toward CaCa.

  But he didn’t just drop it. He put a bit of force behind it, and the ball fell like a comet of shit, hitting poor, gentle, kind CaCa square on the head. The globe of poo tore through him, obliterating his skull and spine as it hit the ground with a giant splat. All that remained were arms and legs with no body in the middle.

  “No!” I screamed. I turned to face Grinner, who stood on the street above. His damned smile no longer touched his eyes, it actually went past them, pushing those soulless orbs in his skull inside and closer together.