Better Off Dead: The Lily Harper Series, Book 1

by H. P. Mallory

  “So then you aren’t really like a spirit, if you can affect tangible things?”

  “I can only affect tangible things,” he said like he was mimicking an English teacher, adopting a pedantic stance and pointing at me, “for you because I’m your guardian angel. I couldn’t do it for no one else. And I still can’t hurt somebody else in order to protect you. Angels are do-gooders, remember?”

  “But you had flames coming out of your fingers and it looked like the demons weren’t exactly enjoying it?” I continued, not finding it easy to wrap my head around the conversation.

  “Yeah, not so much. Think of that whole thing like a light show at the laserium. None of it was real. Them demons are just dumb and don’t know any better.”

  The sun had completely dropped from the sky, and the moon was fully risen. I glanced up at it, admiring the circular orb as it shone its gleaming rays down on us, highlighting the whiteness of the snow. We followed the bladesmith around a bend in the dirt trail and were suddenly standing in front of a small cabin. The trees were so dense, it almost disappeared amongst them, and if not for the lights glowing from the windows, I might have missed it altogether.

  “We hae arrived,” the bladesmith announced, turning to face us expectantly, as if he were surprised we were lagging ten feet behind him.

  “Nice digs,” Bill chuckled as the bigger man frowned down at him.

  “Fye-hoondred ah nicht fer each ah ye,” he said without losing a beat.

  “Come the fuck again?” Bill asked as his mouth gaped open.

  The man narrowed his eyes on Bill then he crossed his arms over his incredibly broad chest, and looked really ticked off. He started forward until only a few feet separated us. “If ye want tae test yer loock in the wood, Ah doona care. If ye want mah hospitality, fen it will cost ye.”

  Bill threw his hands on his hips and harrumphed before losing the stare down and facing me. “Fine, pay him.”

  I felt my stomach drop. “I haven’t got any money!” I squealed, recognizing a bad situation when I saw one: camping out in haunted woods wasn’t on my bucket list, to say the least.

  Bill frowned even deeper and glanced over at the bladesmith apologetically before facing me again, the slack in his jaw disappearing. “Skeletor set you up with an account, didn’t he?” he whispered between clenched teeth.

  I nodded, remaining just as quiet when I whispered, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been to the bank! I don’t even know where my account information is!”

  The bladesmith held up his hands as if to play the part of peacemaker and faced me. I was surprised he could overhear us. “Gi’ meh yer word, an’ we’ll discoos the particulars latah.”

  I nodded enthusiastically, feeling relief wash over me. “You have my word.”

  He came closer to me until it felt like there was no air between us, although he was still at least a foot away. “Break mah troost an’ ye willna like the ootcome.”

  I swallowed in spite of myself and obediently nodded, feeling his threat down to my toes. I said nothing else, but watched him turn away from us. Then he shooed the demons away, who vanished into the undergrowth. Trudging up to the door of the tiny cabin, he opened it, ducking as he entered so as not to hit his head. He held the door open and faced me. “Well, are ye coomin’?”

  As soon as I entered the small house, a cloud of warm air enveloped me, thanks to a fire raging in the fireplace. The fire lent a yellow glow to the log walls, reminding me of a cabin in Big Bear where my mother and I used to spend our Christmases. But not wanting to focus on memories which only depressed me, I inspected my surroundings. It smelled like earth—a heady, clean scent that was reminiscent of the forest itself. Above the fire was a large iron pot, bubbling with something that smelled like stew. There was a couch constructed of logs placed in front of the fire. It was covered in animal furs, some of which matched the furs on the dirt floor. A roughly hewn log table with two chairs occupied one corner of the room, and a straw mattress lay in the other, also covered in furs.

  “Five hundred clams for this?” Bill asked, shaking his head as he turned to face the bladesmith, disbelief written all over his face. “This doesn’t even count as one star ... this is like no star accommodations!” He glanced around himself again, even kicking the fur rug closest to him to show his disappointment. “You should be paying us to stay here!”

  “Bill,” I started, preferring not to incite the wrath of the Titan known as the bladesmith.

  “Ye would dae weel tae keep yer gob shoot, if ye ken what’s good fur ye.”

  “We’re very grateful,” I started, offering him a hesitant smile. “And I promise to pay whatever you want, once I can get my account in order. I just ended up in this ... situation very recently and because of that, everything is a bit topsy-turvy. So please excuse our disorganization and thank you again for your hospitality.”

  The bladesmith simply nodded before facing Bill and frowning again. “Ye would dae weel tae take ah lesson frae yer friend.”

  “Kiss-ass,” Bill whispered to me before eyeing the boiling pot on the fire with obvious interest. “What’s cookin’?”

  ***

  An hour or so later, the three of us had eaten the entire pot of meat stew (the type of which I wasn’t certain). It was surprisingly good, considering the bladesmith didn’t strike me as much of a cook. After dinner, Bill sprawled his sated carcass across one of the animal rugs on the dirt floor, basically hogging the heat from the fire. The bladesmith took up one of the wooden chairs beside his makeshift kitchen table and I sat to the left of Bill, my legs pulled up to my chest.

  “So what are you doin’ with demons anyhow, Conan?” Bill asked as he eyed the man suspiciously.

  “Ah doona appreciate pryin’ guests,” he spat back. He picked up a piece of wood that was lying on the table, then reached behind him and produced a blade. He started whittling the wood into what looked like a spear.

  “You know, it’s against AE policy to harbor anything from the Underground, right?” Bill continued, but the man didn’t look up from his spear-whittling. Bill shook his head and sighed. “You could get yerself into some real trouble, Hulk.”

  The bladesmith continued to ignore him, honing the end of his spear until it was incredibly pointed and sharp. Bill propped himself on his side, resting his head against his elbow and faced the fire as he apparently gave up on conversation and, instead, turned to me.

  “You gettin’ tired, sugar lips?”

  “A little,” I nodded but couldn’t say I liked the idea of falling asleep and, consequently, dropping my defenses. I still didn’t trust the bladesmith. And judging by the expression on Bill’s face, he didn’t either.

  “An’ don't you get any ideas about her, either,” Bill piped up. The man simply paused from his whittling, but showed no expression on his face. “You even think about touchin’ her and I’ll throw a cock-block apocalypse your way faster than you can say eunuch. Capiche?”

  “Nooted,” the man said simply, returning to the spear in his hands.

  Bill stood up and yawned, stretching his arms above his head as his shirt rode up and revealed his Buddha-like stomach. Except his was complete with freckles and wiry hair. “I’m sufferin’ from major bed gravity, yoze. I’m gonna hit the sack,” he said eyeing the straw bedding in the corner of the room with anticipation.

  “Ye kin sleep oan the groond,” the bladesmith piped up.

  Bill’s eyebrows reached for the ceiling as he grumbled something indecipherable. He picked up one of the animal furs from the bed and dragged it to a dark corner close to the fireplace. After spreading it out, he circled it three times, like a dog about to go down for the night. He sat down, twirled himself around so he was facing away from us, and took off his shoes. Using his fleshy arm as a pillow, he laid down. He seemed to stiffen for a second or two, then called over his shoulder: “Egg alert!”

  I shook my head, realizing he’d just cut the cheese. Barely two minutes later, he was sno
ring.

  I remained in my seated position with my knees pulled up to my chest, just staring into the fire, very grateful for the silence ... well, silence between Bill’s snores anyway. It was the first quiet time I’d experienced since the moment I’d died, and my life was turned upside down.

  The flames danced this way and that, burning yellow, then orange as they consumed the remainder of the pine log, rendering it into black cinders. When the bladesmith stood up and lumbered toward the fireplace, I couldn’t help noticing the muscles ripple in his arms as he reached for another log. The log was easily the width and length of my thigh, but he handled it like it weighed nothing and tossed it into the fire. The flames devoured it instantly, the log hissing and popping in outrage.

  “Did ye git enow tae eat?” he asked in a soft voice as I noticed the black tattoos on the backs of his upper arms. Both arms featured Celtic crosses. Along the upper expanse of his back were the branches of a tree that continued down his middle back, the roots of which sprawled across his lower back.

  Remembering his question, I glanced up at him and nodded quickly. “I did, thanks.”

  He said nothing else as he returned to his chair and resumed his whittling. “Ye said ye are new ta this life?”

  I nodded again, somewhat surprised that he was interested in making conversation with me. But thinking I could probably learn something from him—well, that is, if he ever decided to open up—I took the bait. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  I shrugged, trying to figure out where to start. “I was in a car accident,” I said, instantly wondering if he even knew what a car was. I mean, for all I knew, Bill and I could have traveled back in time. This cabin didn’t exactly feature any modern conveniences. “Is this ... place from the same time zone as where I came from?”

  “Aye.”

  “So where, exactly, is here?”

  He glanced up at me and the fire reflected in his dark eyes, giving him the look of something not of this earth. Something alien and cold. “Th’ Dark Wood.”

  There was something familiar about the name. It took me another few seconds before it dawned on me. “Dante!” I said in surprise. “In the beginning of Inferno, Dante is lost in the Dark Wood.”

  The bladesmith didn’t seem interested as he simply shrugged, dropping his attention to the spear in his hands, which he continued to whittle. Small pieces of wood littered his lap and the ground around him.

  “Is the Dark Wood on the way to the Underground City?” I asked, figuring he wasn’t going to offer up any information.

  He never looked up from his whittling. “Aye, the first stop.”

  I nodded, but fear suddenly spiraled through me as I thought about how close we were to the Underground City, that there really was such a place as the Dark Wood, and that this strange man lived here. If it really were true about the forest being unsafe, why would he choose to reside in it? ’Course, he didn’t strike me as someone who enjoyed the company of other people. He seemed content in his solitude, happy to only have a handful of demons to call his friends. To each his own, I guessed. “Have you ever been there?” I started, adding quickly, “to the Underground City, I mean.”

  He nodded. “Oan numeroos occasions.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but that news didn’t surprise me. “And is it as bad as I think it is?”

  “Worse.” Then he glanced up at me. “Is that why ye require ah sword? Because ye hae business in the Oondergroond?”

  “Yes,” I answered, nodding. I swallowed as I shrank beneath his stringent gaze.

  He laid his spear on his lap and regarded me curiously. “Are ye ah soldier then?”

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “Ye hae trainin’ then?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He frowned, shaking his head as he tsked at me. “T’will be ah suicide mission, lass.”

  I gulped hard. “I have no choice.”

  “Everyboody has ah choice.”

  I sighed, trying not to argue with him, even though I felt forced into this arrangement. “So it would seem.”

  “Ye were goona tell meh yer story?” he picked up his spear and began whittling again. I wasn’t sure why I suddenly felt so talkative, but he seemed to have also changed course, and was now being cordial so I figured I should do the same.

  “I was in a car accident and, uh, died when I wasn’t supposed to,” I said quickly. “Then I ended up at AfterLife Enterprises and agreed to become a Retriever in order to live again. I also wanted to skip one hundred years in Shade. Little did I know I was going to be retrieving in the Underground City.” Then I exhaled all the pent-up worry that was building within me and dropped my chin to the top of my knees, rocking back and forth.

  “Then ye are hardly prepared,” he said as he studied me for a few more moments.

  “I’m afraid I’m not,” I answered as something occurred to me, something I should have asked Jason, but hadn’t. “Can I die?”

  The bladesmith’s eyes widened, as if he weren’t expecting the question. Then he simply dropped his attention back to his lap again, but not before nodding. “Aye, ye kin die.” He faced the sleeping Bill. “Isna that why ye hae yer angel guardian?”

  I glanced over at Bill whose leg was twitching as he slept, giving him the look of a sleeping bulldog dreaming of running. I faced the man again and sighed heavily, now aware that Bill couldn’t really protect me with anything other than his magical light show. It was disconcerting. “Yes.”

  Then the bladesmith did something completely out of character, or what I imagined was out of character. He actually smiled, and the smile reached his eyes, brightening his face. At that moment, I could honestly say he was not only a handsome man, but incredibly so.

  “He isna mooch of ah guardian,” he said simply, the smile falling from his lips again. He continued to whittle as the silence in the room grew. Then he looked over at me again. “Fur ah thoozin poonds ah day, Ah will provide ye wif trainin’. An Ah will train ye how tae use yer sword.”

  I swallowed hard, knowing I needed all the help I could get. I wasn’t sure what my financial situation was, but remembered when Jason said AE would be in charge of my bills. “Okay,” I said quickly, immediately realizing that I needed training and then some. If I had any hopes of navigating the Underground City and returning, I needed the bladesmith and then some.

  “Then was the fear a little quieted that in my heart's lake had endured throughout the night, which I had passed so piteously.”

  — Dante’s Inferno

  SIX

  I awoke to find myself lying on my side, facing the log wall of Tallis Black’s cabin. The knots in the wood were still ripe with golden sap, which had crystallized into something that resembled amber. I sat up, rubbed my eyes and turned around, wondering if I were alone. I was. And, stranger still, I was sleeping on the mattress in the corner of the room. The same mattress Bill had his sights set on which Tallis had so unmistakably disallowed him. I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep on the floor, with only the dying fire and a fur to keep me warm. As to how I ended up on the mattress? That was anyone’s guess.

  I stood up, suddenly feeling my heartbeat in my throat as it dawned on me that Bill was nowhere to be seen. Did my angel guardian pack up and leave? In the depths of my soul, I couldn’t imagine he would, but fear of being left to my own defenses with the bladesmith continued to plague me. Not that I got any sort of vibe from Tallis to think he was interested in me in a ... sexual way (or in any way at all, really), but there was undeniably something not quite right about him. It was almost like a natural reflex built into me—that I shouldn’t trust Tallis Black.

  “Okay, so just what in the hell do you want me to tell him, Conan?”

  I heard Bill’s voice from outside the door and relief washed over me. Wasting no time, I hurried across the small house, opening the door wide as a gush of frigid air burst in. At the garish display of sunlight suddenly streaming into my face, I held my hand abov
e my eyes. Once my retinas were able to refocus, I noticed Bill standing right in front of the door, his hands on his hips. He was glaring at Tallis, who was bent over a tree stump, an axe in one hand, the other holding a log in place. The demon herd were behind Tallis, scouting through the bushes like curious dogs. Tallis lifted the axe above his head before bringing it down on the log that rested on the tree stump. He split the log in half, one piece ricocheting through the air and landing beside Bill, who glanced down at it indifferently.

  One of the demons lifted its head at the sound of the log splitting, then glared at Bill. Bill growled at it and the ugly thing disappeared back into the undergrowth.

  “Tell him she isna ready,” Tallis said in a monotone, frowning at Bill before he returned his attention to the task at hand—apparently the chopping of firewood.

  “An’ you really think he’s gonna listen to me?” Bill continued, shaking his head steadfastly. “Shit, I can’t even reach the bastard!”

  “She needs trainin’,” Tallis answered while heaving the axe over his head again. His biceps bulged so much they looked like they were going to pop right off him. Not that I was paying any attention ...

  “What are you talking about?” I asked finally, no longer wanting to play the role of detective, piecing the clues together. And besides, I really couldn’t say I was exactly comfortable with the fact that I couldn’t tear my attention away from Tallis’s well-proportioned upper body.

  “Mornin’, Pollyanna,” Bill said, eyeing me with a huge smile. I noticed Tallis didn’t even glance up. I just smiled nervously at Bill, still worried about the subject of their conversation.

  “Morning,” I answered quickly. “What are you arguing about?”

  Bill sighed, glancing at Tallis once more, then turned to face me. His eyes were laced with worry. “Skeletor texted me with our first retrievin’ mission,” he answered, eyeing me sharply as if to judge my reaction.