by Gillian Zane
“Interesting,” she whispered and stepped back.
I could breathe again. I could stand. I could exist.
“What’s interesting?” Brandon’s voice revealed the tension he was feeling and it amped up my own anxiety. If he was worried, I was even more worried.
“Nothing.” She waved her hand in a dismissive motion. “We shall talk business. It would seem I need to direct more of my attention to this branch.” She glided across the room and went to the shelf. She pulled out a black book and paged through it.
“What do you mean more attention to this branch?” Brandon asked.
When she turned to replace the book, he made a quick motion with his hand for me to sit on the sofa in the corner of the room.
“Was I not clear? Attention. I shall pay more attention to this branch. I do this. I like this. I choose to focus on this branch for right now. I thought I should discuss this with you. I shall be visiting a lot. Please make sure things are more pleasing for me.”
“I don’t know what pleases you, Persephone.”
“Then I shall do it myself and you shall see what pleases me,” she stated and smiled benignly.
The room began to shift and I closed my eyes. I knew she was manifesting, changing the environment. I couldn't watch but I sensed her changing every little item around me. It swirled and pulsed, her power was immense. When I opened my eyes, we were in a large open room. The office sat on a raised platform, and columns marked the borders of the office, but there was no ceiling to interrupt the view of a vast blue sky. The office looked down on an expansive and manicured pool area. Tropical plants grew in large pots everywhere, palm trees reached for a blue sky that went on for forever and seemed so much bigger than the sky of the living world. In the distance, white homes sat on hills overlooking on the large pool. White columns were everywhere, tall and imposing, they delineated each area.
The only wall that blocked the gorgeous view was an onyx expanse of marble that rose up behind Brandon’s desk. It was framed in gold and the marble shimmered as if it was liquid. When he tapped it, his computer sprang to life. There was no sign of his laptop.
“Don’t worry, when I get bored of this place, you can restore it to your liking.” She sighed and sat down dramatically on a red chaise. She lounged, she didn’t sit. She was now dressed in a gown of diaphanous white material. Her hair wasn’t in its tight up-do anymore, instead it fell long and dark down her back in thick rivulets of curls.
Brandon cleared his throat. “Where are the access points?”
“The bowers.” She pointed to the archways covered in flowering vines.
“What else will be different?”
Brandon had a chill in his voice, which I thought was courageous considering this chick was scary as hell. She didn’t look at him. Instead, her gaze turned again to me, and I shivered.
“Leave us.”
My body unfroze.
“T-thank youuu,” I stammered and rushed away from the raised platform, which was now Brandon’s office. Music still pumped from the pool area, but bodies were sprawled over chaises and even on the floor. Soft snores carried over the breeze, telling me they were fine, just sleeping.
I didn’t stop. I wanted to be alone. I needed to think about what this meant. But I realized I didn’t know where my apartment was. It was gone. Like the rest of everything. I had slowly been getting used to my existence and now suddenly everything was changed.
Chapter 5
Gotta Love Murphy
It took me hours of searching and poking my head into the new houses that dotted the hills to find my apartment. It was the second to last one I checked. I love Murphy’s Law. Just love it. It didn’t look like my apartment. The rough plaster drywall and the traditional apartment look and feel were gone, replaced with a small bungalow that looked like a marble monster exploded all over it. Creeping vines with big red blooms crisscrossed the walls, sprouting from pots in every corner. The windows were all thrown open, white translucent curtains blowing in the wind. My furniture was still in place, even though most of it didn’t go.
My modern black sofa actually fit with the new decor, but my metal platform bed did not. I didn’t have the energy to decorate. All I wanted to do was crash. I stopped short as I entered the bathroom, my feet skidding on the marble tile as my head whipped back and forth in amazement. I could get behind this change. Mirrors ran from floor to ceiling along the back wall. The other side was black onyx that I now knew was a computer screen. Guess Persephone wanted me to work while I soaked? I could live with that because in the middle of the floor, sunk into the ground, was a huge round tub with spouts on both ends. The entire bathroom was as big as my last bedroom. I was never going to leave. A bath sounded wonderful.
I stripped out of my bikini and filled the tub with steaming water. When it was overflowing I sank into its depths, the water coming up to my neck as I reclined on the bench that molded to my body. I hadn’t felt in control of my life since I had died, but right now that didn’t matter. Relaxation was the answer to all my problems. The last twenty-four hours had been a roller coaster…and letting go felt like the right thing to do.
I drifted off, letting the warm water leach away the anxiety I was feeling. The smell of lavender and mint from the bath salts was heavy in my nose, refreshing and relaxing.
In the last twenty-four hours I had completed my first solo case. I had gotten my case subject, Bishop, thrown in jail. I had ended his engagement while getting us both fired from our jobs. I had been accused of murdering myself, if one could wrap their brain around that, and I had seen my first PTB, who happened to be a mythical goddess I thought was a fairy tale.
My mind drifted to Drake Greco. The man I had hired to discover how I had died. I hadn’t expected him to tell me I was murdered. I hadn’t expected him to think I was somehow involved. But somehow he knew I was lying and he thought those lies revolved around my death. What complicated things was, for some inexplicable reason, I desperately wanted Drake to trust me. He thought I was a liar–which I was. My whole life, or really, Afterlife, was a lie. I was pretending to be something I wasn’t. All in the pursuit of dishing out karma. I didn't want to lie to Drake. I wanted him to like me.
I sunk in the tub and dissected my feelings. Why did I care? Why should I? I didn’t normally care what people thought of me. If Drake thought I was a liar, so be it. People either liked me or they didn’t. But Drake—I didn’t like his distrust. Was it because I had feelings for him? It couldn’t be that, he wasn’t my type. He was dangerous and prickly. He wasn’t even human. I didn’t know what he was, but it surely wasn’t compatible with this dead girl. Sure, he was sexy as hell and had that whole bad boy, investigator thing going. But that was all materialistic. He didn’t do anything for me, besides his looks. He was predatory and cynical. I didn’t like that kind of person. At least I thought I didn’t. I was more into men…like Brandon. Reliable. Cute. Trustworthy.
I dunked my head under the water and tried hard not to think about Drake. My mind drifted to Persephone. Her eyes, her voice, her guards. I trembled and came up from under the water. The water wasn’t warm anymore.
Was she one of the PTBs in charge? One of the beings that ran this whole shit show? When she mentioned her dear husband—was that Hades? What did it mean that she had changed everything about our division? These houses? The pool and Brandon’s office? Did that mean she and her guards would be hanging around here?
That wasn’t a pleasant thought. She scared me. Her guards scared me. I tried to remember the myths about her, but nothing came to mind, only facts. Nothing about her, or her intentions. She was the wife of Hades, beloved daughter of Demeter. I didn’t know if she was jealous like Hera, or capricious like Poseidon. It surprised me I knew that much. I couldn’t remember what high school I went to, but I could remember about the Greek pantheon. Figures.
A pinging sound came from the onyx wall and a screen popped up. On auto-pilot I said, “Answer,” realizing too
late my current state of undress.
“Cassie,” Brandon’s head displayed on the wall and I hissed and grabbed for a towel. I knocked over salts and soaps in my haste and he probably saw more in my panic than he would have if I would have just stayed under the water. “Sorry! I’ll call back in five.” The screen shut off and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed as I wrapped a towel around myself. The wall was pinging again as I finished wrapping my hair in a towel.
“You know you can manifest yourself dry and dressed,” Brandon said as I stood in front of the wall in a towel. He was frowning like my current outfit displeased him.
“Not in the mood, Brandon,” I sighed.
“Okay, fine, I just wanted to apologize for exposing you to Her.”
“Seems I’m being exposed a lot lately,” I said under my breath, laughing at my own joke. “It’s fine,” I added. And it was; it wasn’t his fault. I was the dumbass who answered.
“No, it’s not. I didn’t know about the gods until I took a management position. It messes with the mind, especially if you were religious before dying, which I was. I believed in one God. You shouldn’t have been told like this.”
“So, it’s true. She’s the real Persephone?”
“Yes, goddess of the underworld. She’s in charge of a lot of the boutique divisions in Afterlife.”
“This place never ceases to amaze me.” I shook my head. I guess we were a boutique division, whatever that means. “So, there’s a Hades? Is he the head honcho around here? Does that also mean outside of Afterlife there is a Mount Olympus?”
“I don’t know, and honestly I have no idea because with Hades and Persephone there is also Yama and Proserpina and a few others, which blows my mind,” he laughed.
“Proserpina?” I asked.
“The Roman version of Persephone. But they are two different beings. I’ve seen them in the same room. Proserpina is in charge of the reincarnation divisions. They treat each other as sisters.”
“Wait, we can be reincarnated if we want to?” I asked incredulously.
“I know it’s a lot. There are thousands of divisions in Afterlife alone. I’ve been introduced to only the ones that have to do with Karma. Reincarnation is one of them. It’s an option given to some of the souls we guide through. Proserpina has a very hands-on way of managing that branch.”
I sat down on my sofa with a rough exhalation of breath. Just when I thought I had this world somewhat figured out, it got bigger and bigger. I didn’t know shit.
“Look, I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He scratched his head and took in my state of exasperation. “Really, I called to apologize.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I replied.
“I know, but I feel like I handled that badly.” He pinched his nose as though he had a headache. But we were dead. We didn’t get headaches. Or feel, or taste…
“She saw there was something different about me,” I said quietly.
“There’s nothing different about you, Cassie. You’re just more aware than the other operatives. Look, don’t worry about that. Don’t worry about her. I just wanted to call and let you know you have a little downtime before your next case. Take some time to decompress.”
“Decompress,” I repeated.
“Yeah. Relax. Things look different around here, but we’ll still go on the same as usual. If you see Persephone, treat her like a visiting board member, or something. Don’t be afraid. She wants to see this division prosper, it’s in her best interest. The more souls we put on the right track, the more it makes her look good.”
“Is it that shallow? What we do here? We’re only making some goddess look good?”
“There’s more to it, but on the surface, yes, the better she looks the better she treats us,” he said with a shrug. “Relax, Cassie, trust me, this is leaps and bounds better than the other divisions.”
“If you say so,” I said as he signed off.
Chapter 6
R&R
Brandon gave me a week. A week to unwind and rest. The first two days were spent sleeping. That weird coma thing I did when I was feeling overwhelmed. Everyone reassured me it was normal. We didn't have the same sleep and awake patterns as the living, so this was how we ––Fallon called it recharging. What they didn’t say, what I found out in a roundabout way, was most operatives only recharged about once a year. I was on my second recharge and I had only been an operative for half a year. Again the question, why am I different?
After I came back to consciousness, I got it in my head to spend a few days at the pool socializing and unwinding, but I quickly became restless. It took me only a few hours. Brandon didn’t make an appearance, so I went looking for him. He was rushed, in a suit and had other things to do. It was at odds with the weird party atmosphere of the operatives. They continued to cavort and carry-on as if nothing happened. None of them mentioned the new look of our compound. A few of them commented on the new upgrades, but it wasn’t with any clarity or depth. Persephone didn’t make an appearance. I was twitchy, waiting for her to appear, like she was hiding behind every corner.
“Don’t you care that everything’s different?” I asked Tiffany as we swam in our new and improved pool. She had remarked how she liked the new size and the cool new slide, but that was it.
“We have a slide now, I think it’s fun,” she said with a vapid smile. “Brandon’s awesome to have upgraded us. He looks hot in his new suits too.”
“It wasn’t Brandon,” I argued.
“Of course it was, silly. You need to lighten up, Cassie.” She splashed me and swam away to throw her arms around Fallon, who wasn’t as bitchy as me. I had had enough of the pool.
I got out and grabbed a towel. I rubbed the soft material between my fingers and then threw it back down on the chair. I imagined myself dry and in a cute little skater dress I had recently seen in a magazine. I felt the water wick off me and my hair lightened as it dried and straightened down my back. My height increased as shoes materialized on my feet. It was getting easier and easier to manifest things.
I was antsy not having anything to do. I could go back to my house, but there was nothing to do there. Brandon, I should talk to Brandon. I headed for his office. He had put up curtains between the columns, lengths of material furled from one column to the other in a make-shift ceiling. It gave it a semblance of seclusion and privacy. I stepped onto the platform and my hand tugged at the curtain to pull it aside, but voices stopped me.
Men’s voices carried from behind the curtains, one was Brandon’s. I didn’t recognize the other. They were arguing. I couldn’t make out what they were saying but the raised tones of their voices clued me in that it wasn’t friendly. I wasn’t comfortable in this new environment, this new palatial compound with its columns and too big sky and Brandon arguing with strangers behind privacy curtains.
I had thought I was drifting before this. Not settled. Not at ease. But now with the changes, I realized I had begun thinking of this place as my home. I had been comfortable. And now I wasn’t. Everything had changed. I didn’t fit. Again.
It was ridiculous. I was making things harder than they should be, but relaxing was now out of the question. I needed to put things in perspective. The living world called to me. I found the bowers that separated our worlds. I drew back the hanging vines and walked through their large expanses. One minute I was brushing away the foliage and the next I was walking down bustling streets I vaguely remembered from my living life. I walked and walked, browsing shops I might have shopped at before.
I had been here at some point, but I couldn’t place it. I couldn’t make it fit into the puzzle that was my life. I finally decided to plant it and I grabbed a hot, over-spiced and sugared coffee and sat down to people watch. I sat for hours. When the hour got late, I went back to my home and then first thing in the morning I found myself drifting back to the coffee shop, pretending to look at a computer while I watched the living.
I was mesmerized by the dynamics of the people behind the counter, who were all engaged in one kind of drama or another. The girl at the register was crushing on the manager, who was having an affair with the delivery guy. The guy that made the coffee had a thing about purposely spelling people’s names wrong on the cup. It made his day. The little things.
I was on my fourth coffee of the day, but I wasn’t the only one. There were a few people that were on a long haul coffee experience like me. The man that sat in the corner had been reading the paper for four hours, but was really avoiding his wife who was now working from home and pestering him to get a job. Then there was the aspiring writer who sat pecking at her computer for hours but only managed to write a few words. The majority of the time she was on social media or checking out the barista.
I didn’t notice him walking in, but my head shot up when the chair across from me made a loud shrill squeal as it was pulled across the tile.
“You’ve been avoiding everyone,” Brandon said as way of greeting. His hair was mussed and he was dressed in jeans and a tee that read ‘Karma is like 69: You get what you give’. I had to admit to myself, it was good to see him, especially dressed normal again.
“How’d you know I was here?” I said avoiding his accusation.
“I can find all my operatives if I need to.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.” I took a sip of my bland coffee.
“It’s for your protection. Some of the jobs can be dangerous, and we are corporeal, that means we can be injured,” he said.
“Can we be killed again?” I asked, truly curious.
“Yes. The only difference between us and the living is we don’t age. You can heal yourself by manifesting, but if something lethal happens and you can’t do it in time, you’ll die again and go through processing. Again. A few years ago we had an operative that was in a car accident.”