Shades - The Demise of Blake Beck

by Anders Rauff-Nielsen

  “What?” Astrid sniffled. “Who are you? And where the hell are we?”

  “Well, if you let me, I'll show you. But you'll have to get up,” the woman said. Astrid grunted and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat, offering out her right arm so the woman could help her off the cold ground. The woman pulled her to her feet. “My name is Victoria. Pleased to meet you.” She pulled back the hood of her dark robe, revealing pearly white skin and delicately aged features framed by a mane of flowing, curly red hair, albeit slightly greying.

  “Likewise,” Astrid said, clearly not pleased at all. Then they began walking slowly down the path. “I'm Astrid, by the way, and I think I might need a doctor.” Then she began to cry. “I was assaulted, and for a moment I thought I was going to die.” Victoria put an arm around Astrid to comfort her. “It was some crazy bitch who just came up the path and suddenly attacked me. I think she stabbed me in the back. And I might have banged my head because my mind keeps playing tricks on me.” Astrid looked at Victoria. “Would you help me get to the emergency room? The hospital is just beyond the cemetery.”

  “My dear, I don't think you need a doctor,” Victoria said, trying to soften the blow to come.

  “But . . . I . . .” Astrid continued, becoming more agitated, “Didn't you hear me?! I was assaulted. I almost died!!!” Victoria hushed her like a mother comforting her daughter.

  “I'm sorry, Astrid, but you didn't almost die. You died.”

  “What!? That can't be right. I'm not supposed to . . . I still have to . . .” But no matter what words of denial came across her lips, there was no convincing herself. She knew it was true as soon as Victoria said it. She stopped talking and began crying again, seeking refuge in the folds of Victoria's robe. Astrid cried and Victoria let her. Victoria knew that, given time, Astrid would stop crying and start to ask questions instead, and Victoria was in no hurry as she had an eternity to spend. But it didn't take that long. After a few minutes, Astrid lifted her head from the folds of Victoria's robe and looked at her. “Who are you?” Astrid asked in a low voice.

  “I am one of the angels of death and I have been sent here to welcome you into Shades.” Astrid sniffled. Then she straightened her back and frowned, giving Victoria the classic inquisitorial look.

  “Like an afterlife?” Astrid had a hard time believing that she was seriously asking that question. She had never really believed in eternal life. When asked, she usually replied that her rational mindset had a hard time allowing for the belief in gods, metaphysics and eternal life, but that she hoped they existed. She was not so much a believer as a hoper, but she always added the disclaimer that she was prepared to offer her unreserved apology for her lack of faith if she ever stood before God or any other celestial being for judgment. Although, she had always planned on offering up the argument that metaphysics was unreasonable and thus not believable to anyone who lived by reason rather than emotion. To Astrid, any existing metaphysics would have to be considered either an error of judgment on the celestial part, or a pretty sick joke, seeing as mankind had been endowed with the power of reason. “I'm sorry I didn't have faith, but I hope you won't hold that against me. Because I have to say, it's rather hard for a creature of reason to believe in a – I'm sorry to say – rather unreasonable setup. There is nothing in the school of reason or natural sciences that would allow for this to be credible, let alone reasonable.” Astrid thought more about it. “How the hell was I to know?!” she asked.

  “You weren't. That's the whole point. It's called faith not knowledge.” Victoria smiled.

  “But . . .”

  “And while it all may have seemed to be unreasonable and illogical in life, remember life is just one point of view, and no matter where you stand, you will never be able to see the full picture because you’re in it. And trust me,” she paused to underline her point, “it does make sense in the whole.”

  “Hmm.” Astrid abandoned the topic, still not wholly convinced, although the woman – merely by existing – had a strong case.

  “So where am I?”

  “You are in Shades, the place where all souls go when their lives end. Here you will spend a good deal of time waiting for your paperwork to go through and for the powers that be to decide your further destiny on the grounds of your existence up to this point.”

  “Like a sort of heavenly bureaucracy?” Astrid's puzzled expression was met with a friendly laugh.

  “You might say that.”

  “So, I just wait here and play dead or what?”

  “If you want to. Or you can come with me to the halfway house where I have booked you a room until you can get yourself settled. Most other souls sort of live on while they wait – doing what they know.”

  “I just live on?”

  “Of course not. You're dead, so none of this matters in the same way as it did before, but you make passing the time more pleasant until the judgment is over.”

  “Then what?” They started walking down the pathway towards the city lights.

  “Well, after some time – usually a couple of decades these days because life has gotten so crowded – all the formalities have been sorted and you will receive your judgment, which will be one of two things: either they offer to send you on to an afterlife or you're stranded here.

  “Like, forever?!”

  “Yes.” Victoria's smile faded.

  “What happens then? I just get eternal life?”

  “Should that be your judgment, I will let you see for yourself as time goes by. I really couldn't – and shouldn't – start to describe what eternity is like.”

  “So where are we going?” Astrid asked, feeling that she should probably let the subject of eternity rest for now.

  “I have booked you into a nearby halfway house with some of the other new arrivals in this part of the Entrance, which is the part of Shades we are in now.” Astrid didn't really answer, but hummed her acknowledgement and followed Victoria, all the while trying to grasp the concept of being dead and the fact that there was an afterlife, after all. A thought dawned on her, materializing out of the fact that Victoria said that some souls were sentenced to stay in Shades for eternity. Her mind creaked as a plan began to form. She suddenly knew what she would be doing while waiting for her judgment.

  “Victoria?”

  “Yes?”

  “So, some of the souls here in Shades . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Some of them are really old?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even medieval?”

  “Some date all the way back to the dawn of man. Why?”

  “Oh. There is just someone I would like to meet!”

  II

  Teresa walked down the corridors that led to the servant’s quarters of the castle, tending to her usual household business. She hadn't spoken a word with the Earl for days, let alone felt his affectionate touch. The last time she saw him was the night of her row with Bahij when spite had led her to the Earl’s bed as much as love. Now, in the Earl’s absence, she occupied herself by paying attention to her duties that she had borderline neglected on more than one occasion over the last couple of weeks when she had strayed with the Earl. Yet a fire burning in her stomach and a knot in her throat grew relentlessly, as Teresa was a jealous creature who could be as fierce and hateful as she could be gentle and loving. Her mind told her that she was not about to let the Earl wander off to other pastures, let alone make a fool of her, while her heart – clouded by infatuation and love – constantly tried to convince her that he surely had good reason for his absence. As she passed by a window, she saw him standing in the corner of the courtyard talking to a fledgling vampire who had been dead only a decade. Teresa stopped and watched her beloved through the stained glass. The Earl had reined in his usual flamboyant behavior, talking and gesturing low as if – for once – he was trying to not draw attention to himself. Clearly angered by the young vampire’s reply, the Earl slapped him across the cheek with his glove before handing him
a small scroll case and sending him away. Teresa stood and watched the two part, feeling the anger well up inside. As the young vampire headed for the stables, Teresa left her duties behind and hurried down the corridor intent on catching the young man before he headed out with what were undoubtedly gentle and poetic words of love from the Earl to her rival. Why else the secrecy and discretion of a messenger?

  She reached the stables as the young man was saddling up his steed and getting ready to ride out. He didn't notice Teresa until she was standing right behind him.

  “Boy!” She felt her anger shift towards the young man, as he was, in her eyes, as guilty of the imminent betrayal as the Earl himself. Startled, he turned around, leaving the saddle and bridle resting loosely on the back of the beast.

  “Mistress Ammon.” He bowed.

  “What is your business, errand boy, in the stables and house that belong to Him?”

  “I . . .” The young man paused, but Teresa did not leave him time to find the words he was looking for. Instead, she slapped him hard across the cheek where a slight discoloration already told of the meeting with the Earl’s glove just minutes before.

  “Spare me your lies, boy!” She stepped forward to rip the scroll case from his belt strap, but the boy took a step back and out of her reach.

  “Mistress Ammon, I assure you . . .” he tried.

  “Give me the case! I know what you are hiding, and if you do not comply, I shall see that your punishment will equal that of the Earl's!” Teresa yelled, letting her anger spill over. Her eyes lit up and her face distorted as she bared her fangs. Deep down, she knew that it was an empty threat as there was no punishment to be served for breaking hearts, save that which could be meted out by the scorned lover. But if her suspicions proved true, she knew that she would do everything in her power to ruin the Earl and all who aided him. And empty or not, the threat worked.

  “I . . .” The young man started to loosen the scroll case to give it to Teresa. “Mistress Ammon, I am but a messenger for the Earl who was asked to deliver a case, the contents of which I know nothing of.” Hissing at the boy like a snake warding off its enemies, Teresa reached out and ripped the scroll case from his belt as he fiddled with the strap. As she pulled the lid off the case and took out the paper within, she eyed the boy, who stood silently by his horse, saying less than nothing. Then she reverted her eyes to the paper and read the Earl’s script, her hands trembling. She felt dirty and betrayed, angry and full of hatred. All her love turned to loathing and she despaired at the thought that she had been so reckless. So naive. So easy. She read the final words through a veil of tears, finding not words of love, but words of betrayal. She had been the one who had made it possible, she thought to herself, realizing that she was perhaps as guilty as the Earl. Just as he had betrayed her trust, she had betrayed Bahij.

  “Leave!” she yelled, and the young man scurried past her as quickly as he could. She slumped down with her back against the wall, sitting down quietly in the straw that had been strewn on the floor of the stalls. As the horse anxiously trotted around in anticipation of a ride, Teresa wept. She wept in anger at the Earl’s betrayal, and finally, she wept at her own folly.

  III

  Astrid slept late, dozing in the mystical, half-pretend sleep of the dead. She had stayed up half the night with Victoria, getting to grips with the notions and implications of being dead. Astrid had been set up in the halfway house in a room reminiscent of a small, lightly furnished room in a midrange hotel. The city bore some striking resemblances to Astrid’s hometown in life, and according to Victoria, there was a large congregation of Scandinavian souls in the area. Astrid had tried to get Victoria to tell her as much about Shades as possible, but when it came to the subject of the other lands, Victoria closed up like an oyster out of water. However, Astrid had been able to coax a few vital pieces of information from her, such as the fact that the Medieval was located due north of the part of the Entrance where Astrid had arrived. By the time Astrid got out of bed, she had already made up her mind. Why content herself with the bleak pretend life in death when she had the opportunity to witness the past that she had studied for years – or at least witness the shadow thereof. She got dressed and shoveled in her breakfast before grabbing a coat from the hanger on her way out – a coat she assumed had to be hers as this was her room. In the hallway outside, she pressed the button for the elevator and stood still for as long as it took for her to realize that it had to be out of order because no elevator could take that long to climb a four-story building. “They've thought of everything,” she said to herself as she headed down the stairs, annoyed and amused at the same time. Outside the building, she headed down the street towards the town center. It took about an hour before she found what she was looking for. On the street, outside a small first-floor shop, she saw a sign saying “Noah's Costume Rental.” She went in and climbed the flight of stairs that led to the store. Inside, she fought her way through a maze of costumes on hangers and in cardboard boxes, feeling as if she was being attacked by pirates, samurai, go-go girls and cartoon figures all at the same time.

  “Hello?” Astrid called out.

  “Oh, hello! Just come through here,” a man’s voice replied.

  “I'm trying!” she jested, but there was no immediate response. Finally, she reached the man to whom the voice belonged. He was standing behind a sewing table, stitching up a rip in a two-man horse costume. He looked tired and weary, wearing a suit of clothes that Astrid first thought to be a costume itself. But soon she realized that this man – who was about thirty-five, she guessed – had probably died in the mid 1990s and still insisted on retaining the cool, hip clothing style of his youth. It was a style that reminded Astrid of the golden age of Wham! with only a few modifications.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked with a labored smile.

  “Well, I'm going to this medieval reenactment and I'm out looking for a costume,” Astrid replied.

  “OK. Let's see what I can do for you. What are you going to be?”

  “Sorry?”

  “What's your place in the reenactment? Harlot or housewife?” He gave her a stern look, letting her know that he had little time to waste, although it seemed to Astrid that he probably had all the time in the world.

  “I'm going to be a maid at the manor,” was the first thing that popped to mind and out of her mouth.

  “Well, I think I might have the right thing back here. Give me a minute or two,” he said before heading deeper into the labyrinth, leaving Astrid with little choice but to oblige. About five minutes later he returned with a roughly textured, earth-colored garment, complete with underskirts, a headdress, shoes, belt and all the accessories. “Now all we have to do is see if those hips fit,” he said as he laid the costume on the counter. Astrid had already removed her jacket while he was away in the back room, and she quickly slipped the dress over her head. “It seems to fit well enough,” he grunted under his breath. “I guessed you are a size 38,” he said as he handed her the leather boots.

  “That's about right,” Astrid replied as she sat down on a nearby stool, shoes in hand, to try the boots on. When the outfit was fully donned, she walked to the tall mirror on the wall to have a look. She looked like one of the women she had seen so often in the illustrations of her history books. “It's perfect. I'll take it!” As Astrid began removing the clothes, the man walked over to a small counter with an antique cash register.

  “How long do you need the clothes?”

  “Uhhhm . . . Through the weekend,” she said, not quite recalling which day of the week it was.

  “Well, I will bill you until Monday then and take a security deposit that will be refunded when the clothes are returned in good order.”

  “OK,” Astrid said, feeling up her pockets and wondering how she was going to pay for anything. She grabbed her jacket and gave it a pat, locating a wallet in the side pocket. Paying in cash, she put the change back in her wallet as the man folded up the clothes a
nd put them in a plastic shopping bag. Astrid grabbed the bag and headed out of the maze of clothing, offering up a simple “thanks” which found no reply. As she headed out, she thought about whether or not she was going to need to pack food and drinks or perhaps even a tent, but then decided against it. She guessed that it was not like she could die of thirst or anything like that anymore. Instead, she headed north out of town, thumbing down a car heading in the same direction. She could hardly believe that she might get to meet Bernt Notke in person.

  IV

  Teresa sat in the stables for hours until her despair had matured into resolve. She brushed her clothes and straightened her hair before leaving the stables and the castle behind, hurrying to the Earl’s home in the Baroque quarter. She didn't knock or announce herself, but rather flung open the street door and hurried up the stairs, leaving the door to close itself at its own leisure.

  “John! You will see me now!” she yelled, allowing her words to precede her to whatever room he was in. As she raged to his study and found it empty, she heard a rustle from the bedroom down the hall, a place she had so enjoyed visiting on previous occasions. When she made it down the corridor, she found the Earl coming towards her wearing only a white lace shirt, leaving his privates to dangle vulgarly at her.

  “My dear! Pray tell what has gotten you into this dreadful state and what I may do to relieve you of said ailment.” He smiled at her. For the first time, Teresa saw his smile for what it was. It was not charming or endearing, but arrogant and playful – like the grin of a cat toying with a mouse.

  “You bastard!” she yelled at him, forcefully attempting to wipe the smile off his face with the stroke of her hand. “You son of a whore! Your mother must have bedded the devil with buggery and born you out of her arse to bear such a filth as you!” She could feel the tears pressing on, but still anger overcame sadness.