The Afterlife Series Omnibus: Heaven, Hell, Earth, Wasteland, War, Stones

by Mur Lafferty

  Shaking his head, Daniel returned to his office. This was a more acceptable sanctuary; he’d decorated it with old Clash posters and his own personal coffeemaker. Coffee was served in his office, but it was always the last inch of coffee in the pot, scorched and sludgy. The demons couldn't get enough of it.

  Daniel collapsed on the cushioned couch in the corner.

  When he stopped the snow in the Wasteland, he’d felt as if it were a natural function of his being, like when he’d torn through space with Izanami’s katana, or when he’d been reborn from Anubis's mouth. All of those had felt as though that were what were supposed to happen, a natural progression. Why couldn’t he do anything now?

  Well, for one thing, he allowed, Kate has Ganymede; she isn't alone. Not to mention angels — intelligent advisers who were good to the core, sworn to help her every need. She had her own shit to deal with, he was certain, and maybe he wasn't looking hard enough.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated. He needed helpers, advisers, someone the least bit competent. Two pops sounded from either side of his head and he opened his eyes. An angel version of himself hovered over his left shoulder, a devil version on the right. They looked exactly like him, down to the rag covering his eye, only they were dressed in cheap Halloween costumes.

  “You called, boss?” the devil asked.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Daniel said rubbing his eye. “I want a real advisor!”

  The little versions of him disappeared and someone knocked at the door. Fully expecting Bugs Bunny, Daniel opened it, wincing. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw who stood there.

  A small man watched him through nervous watery eyes; they bulged slightly from their sockets and thin hair hung into them. There were no devil horns, no fire leaking from his nose, and he didn't look as if he had a sliver of Daniel’s conscience. In fact ... it looked as if he were utterly terrified.

  “Well?” Daniel asked finally, when the little man didn't say anything.

  The man jumped. “I — ah … I’m Kevin. I’m your new assistant.”

  “Oh, thank G — uh. — I mean it’s great that you’re here. Come in.”

  Daniel let him in and flung himself onto the couch. Kevin perched like a frightened bird in an easy chair that had appeared nearby.

  Then Daniel grinned at him. “You don’t know how good it is to see you. I’m up to my eyes in clichés. What the hell is going on around here? It’s like this place is stuck in the mid-twentieth century view of hell and we can't get out of it.”

  Kevin's eyes darted nervously around as if he were looking for an exit. “Um … well, the information I have is that previous management greatly enjoyed the whimsical depictions of him that appeared during that time. It was better than the screaming souls and entrails that had been drawn and written about before then.”

  “I guess makes some sense. But I didn't really expect to see a cartoon out of my office door.”

  “You could change it to anything you like,” ventured Kevin.

  Daniel waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “I don't want to mess with the system until I understand it. But that's why you're here. So what’s your story? Are you a damned soul?”

  Kevin looked at the ground. Daniel wondered if he'd said something rude. “I was declared a heretic in 1480 and tortured to death by the Spanish Inquisition and sent to hell.”

  Daniel made a disgusted sound. “Did you ever kill anyone? Rape? Steal?”

  Kevin shook his head at all of these. Daniel briefly wondered if he would be able to tell if his assistant were lying. The knowledge he gained from Odin stirred briefly and said that he would.

  Where the hell have all of you been? Daniel thought crossly.

  He returned his focus to Kevin. “You suffered in hell for the past six hundred years because the Inquisition thought you were a witch?”

  Still looking at the ground, Kevin nodded.

  Daniel sighed, “All right, well, welcome to the job. I don’t think that you have a lot to fear here in terms of the whole torture thing. Unless administrative duties make you cringe.”

  “I was a scribe for the monastery, before the Inquisition.” Kevin said. “I’m not a stranger to work.”

  “How did you get branded a witch if you were already in a monastery?”

  Kevin shrugged. “I believe some monks from the nearby city suggested that some people at monastery loved Christ the Lord more than others. I was deemed one of the ones who did not love enough.”

  Daniel shook his head as the stories of the subsequent religious rivalries filled his head.. With his backup system apparently in place again, he relaxed. Why had they been silent?

  “You must eventually learn to do this on your own,” whispered the voice of Izanami.

  “Because I did so well on my own when I didn't have you guys. Good idea!”

  Kevin showed no sign of surprise that Daniel would be talking to himself aloud. Daniel shook his head, hoping he was giving the gods within a good tumble, and sighed. “All right, first I want coffee. Not the kind of coffee you get in hell either. I want the kind of coffee Kate can get in heaven. Secondly, I guess I need to see a map of all the hells, and who has ruled them or rules them now.”

  Kevin paused and Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I am unable to leave hell until I am absolved or given a passport.”

  “If I absolve you, then you go to heaven, and I can't have an assistant,” Daniel said, thinking aloud. “I’ll need your help for a while.” He reached inside his shirt and removed his Traveler's pendant, now in the shape of goat’s head, and handed it to Kevin. “Take good care of it.”

  Kevin nodded and left the room.

  Daniel stretched back on the couch. No wonder hell was in such bad shape if all the help he could count on were the damned souls and demons. Who came up with this system?

  Maybe I can work something out with Kate for a work exchange program. Daniel put his arm over his eyes, sighing. I’m becoming middle management, a corporate drone, something I railed against all my life. Now he was stuck, for eternity, in a corporate atmosphere. His stomach rolled over again and he thought again about why ruling hell was his own personal hell. What was Kate up to? Was administration in heaven any easier? It probably had to do with bonbons and a seamlessly efficient system.

  Daniel got up and paced about the office. In addition to his own Clash posters, there were framed “art” from those Successories people. Tacky posters of eagles and desert vistas hung from the walls, proclaiming that Daniel had only to apply himself to succeed, to soar, to rule. His mahogany desk was sparsely decorated with a blotter and a mug that said, “Number One Boss.”

  What the hell was a blotter anyway? And what did people use it for? Where is my computer? His mood growing increasingly foul, he finally glared at the eagle on the wall, incinerating it at a glance. This was ridiculous.

  The room, including the Clash posters, was in flames by the time Kevin walked back into it, a to-go container of Starbucks in his hand. He didn't seem startled by Daniel's outburst; he just held the coffee away from the flames while Daniel pouted on the couch. Daniel eventually looked up and said, “Crappy first day, huh?”

  “Seems to be that way, sir.”

  The office building itself remained untouched by Daniel’s flames, and demons and angels with black wings still hunkered over uncomfortable-looking desks.

  “What are they doing?” Daniel asked, pausing at a demon’s desk to pour sugar into his coffee.

  “Processing damned souls. With the end of the world it's been a lot harder to keep up.”

  “Why do we need to keep up, exactly? Can’t they just come down here and be flung into the pit of fire?”

  Kevin shook his head, “Not if they’re Chinese and destined for the Plains of Ice. Each god of hell demands his or her rightful souls.”

  Daniel became very still. “But I thought I was the god of hell. Hel left her realm; Hades is still imprisoned. The Adversary left me the deed.”r />
  Kevin paused, looking as if he were thinking of a diplomatic way to answer. “That ... is ... not entirely true. Not all the gods gave up their posts, and ones who did are not gone, but merely not ruling. Others are … I believe you could call them ‘middle management.’”

  “So I rule them and they keep things moving?”

  Kevin nodded.

  Daniel plucked a file off the demon’s desk. It contained a dossier of a woman's life: her bio; her pictures; her list of sins, including theft; her religions — she belonged to three during her life. The details of her death: vaporized in the final war. A destination: Dis.

  “So this demon deals with the Christian hell?”

  “Oh no, sir, Christian hell is processed by every demon on this floor as well as the two below it. Muslims get the next two floors. Below that are the three to cover the Buddhists and every floor below that are the thousands of other smaller religions.”

  Fascinating, isn't it? Odin asked wryly.

  “When did you get a voice, old man?” Daniel asked.

  When you finally got some power worth addressing.

  Daniel shrugged. “So what exactly am I needed for, aside from burning down a shitty office?”

  “The lords of hell are not docile creatures.” Kevin said. “They frequently push for dominance and ...”

  A familiar roar that had never really left Daniel’s thoughts sounded, shattering the windows by the cubes to Daniel’s left.

  Undaunted, Kevin nodded, “And there is the matter of the demons who resent your ascension.”

  Daniel sighed. This was not the best first day on the job; he hadn’t even been able to make a speech to his new employees.

  “Did you get the map I asked for?”

  Kevin nodded.

  “And does fire hurt these guys?”

  Kevin shook his head.

  “Well, hell. The world’s already in chaos, it might as well be my chaos. I hate this building anyway.”

  The demon roared again, shaking the building.

  “Will fire hurt whatever that is?” Daniel asked hopefully.

  Kevin shook his head again.

  “Blast. Ah, well.” Daniel reached his back where Izanami’s katana appeared. He drew the black blade, concentrated briefly, and the room around him burst into flame. The files on the desks burned and the demon sat back from the flames, unperturbed. The building shook again and Daniel swung his blade, ripping through the air and opening a bleeding wound.

  “After you,” he said, pushing Kevin through and following after. Whatever it was didn't follow. Daniel sighed with relief. “We’re really gonna have to figure out what that thing is and how to deal with it at some point.”

  Not to mention the relative chaos you just plunged hell into, said the quiet voice of Anubis.

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kate hunkered over the desk in her office, the one she still considered God's office even though he had left it to her, and looked at her own map. The map of the metaphysical made no sense. When she had wandered the roads as a Traveler, heaven had seemed laid out in an easily navigable geography, but apparently that had been her own perception. Instead of being on a two-dimensional XY grid, heaven had what seemed to be four dimensions, with a Z axis going up and down, and a W axis bisecting — and in some cases —actually surrounding some locations with others as if it were a hungry amoeba.

  A knock sounded at the door and her head snapped up. "Goddammit! Can I never get a moment to concentrate here?"

  The door opened and in came the young boy, Ganymede, who frowned at her. "You swore again, Goddess."

  Kate ran her fingers through her tangled hair. "Look. He knew what he was getting into when He gave me the keys to this place. Just think of it as taking my own name in vain. I'm keeping myself humble. Now, what's up?"

  "Another visitor has requested an audience."

  "I am never going to get things back in order if I keep getting interrupted, Ganymede."

  "This is a matter of some urgency, Goddess."

  Kate groaned and rubbed her forehead where a headache threatened, but nodded.

  Ganymede had spent eons serving Zeus, and had made it clear to Kate that he knew something about matters of state. Plus, he made excellent tea.

  He bowed as an elderly woman entered the room, but she was no frail grandmother. She held a golden-winged helmet respectfully by her side, and her iron gray hair was braided and pinned to her head. Her golden armor, dented but clean, gleamed in the torchlight. A wicked long sword hung at her side, and a round iron shield at her back, and she nodded to Ganymede as he respectfully backed out of the room.

  Kate accessed the divine knowledge in her mind, which included much that she had gotten from Daniel, and smiled when she realized whom she faced. She stood and walked across the room with wide strides. She grasped the women's gauntleted forearm firmly.

  "Skuld, it is an honor. I'm so glad to see that you survive Ragnarök."

  The Valkyrie smiled, strength and energy making her seem younger than her years. "They're already talking about you, girl. The bards — those who are left — are already telling tales of your greatness. Your battles. Your loves."

  Kate smiled weakly, a flush beginning in her cheeks, as usually happened when someone spoke to her about Daniel. Hermes snickered in her mind, reminding her that Daniel had not been her only lover in the afterlife. Daniel had warned her that Skuld didn't mince words, and Kate sighed inwardly with relief as Ganymede appeared unbidden with flagons of mead, and a tray of rich meats and bread. Kate offered a seat and a mug to Skuld.

  After taking a long drink of the brew, Skuld drew a knife and began sawing away at a roast.

  "I would like nothing better than for this to be a social call, girl. It is a goal of mine to teach you to knit. You can learn so much about a person by what they knit, you know. But there are other things to discuss. Odin would leap from Daniel's head and throttle me if I wasted any more time.

  "You know about Ragnarök; of course you do. You're the Goddess. It was tasked to the Valkyries and the remaining Goddesses, those who had no prophecies, to clean up the men’s messes and rebuild the world. My sisters are planting a new world tree. My sisters in arms are hunting the last of Loki's and hell's supporters, but there is the matter of the world to rebuild."

  Kate swallowed her own mouthful of mead, feeling guilty. She'd known she and Daniel were supposed to rebuild the Earth, but the fact of their godhoods had been a little overwhelming.

  "I wasn't aware that there was a time limit."

  Skuld cast a sideways eye at Kate. Kate shrugged, irritated.

  "I'm learning as I go, okay?"

  Skuld drained her mug and stood. Kate followed suit, wondering if she had offended her. The Valkyrie picked up her helmet and headed for the door. She paused, looked back at Kate, and said, "Are you coming?"

  "Oh." Kate grabbed her backpack from its hook ad scrambled after her.

  * * * * *

  Now this was the way to travel. Screw that walking stuff. Skuld was mounted on a heavy white war steed, and Kate on a thinner gray horse. They galloped over hills and sandy dunes and rocky terrain. They didn't stop, and Kate didn't ask where they were going. She'd never ridden a horse before, and was delighted with the sensation.

  They pulled up on the edge of a sandy expanse, a Wasteland near a shadowy heaven of fans for a popular science fiction movie, who had adapted the film’s religion for their own. Kate fought the urge to explore this sparsely populated — but seriously tempting — heaven of adventure, and focused on what Skuld was saying.

  "I can't take you to see the actual solar system," Skuld said. "Only you have the power to do that, but I'm not sure you have wisdom right now, so I will show you here."

  She reached out and plunged her hand into the sand, raising a golden orb.

  "This is Sol, our Sun."

  Planets followed her hand movements. Mercury, Venus, Mars, and the asteroid belt all mov
ed through the sand in their orbits. An indentation formed between Venus and Mars, a small hole that didn't follow the other planets’ movements.

  "There is our Earth," Skuld said, pointing to the hole. "Destroyed in the physical sense, but also in the metaphysical sense. No gods are there, no people, no worshippers of any kind. It has left a void; it has left a hole."

  Sand began slipping in to the hole faster and faster, increasing in diameter. Kate's stomach rolled over as the hole grew larger, encompassing Venus and Mars, and finally Mercury. As the edges of the hole began to eat away at the asteroid belt and the Sun, Kate threw up her hand and wiped the demonstration from the sand.

  Skuld watched her.

  "But if there's no life on those planets, why do we care if they die off? We can make a new Earth and it won't matter if there are other planets around it or not. What's the rush?"

  Skuld spat into the sand. "Think, girl. There is the matter of balance. The physical must be balanced with the metaphysical. The world was begun and ended, and begun again over and over during an expanse of time that is so long that it has no name. If it is not renewed then, well, we don't know what will happen, but I for one do not want to find out.”

  Kate squatted on the sand, and Skuld's example rose again, the hole sucking sand into it.

  "What's on the other side of that hole?"

  * * * * *

  Kate sat again on top of her mountain, meditating. She slowed her breathing, and after many hours her consciousness drifted up and out over the land, higher and higher through the atmosphere. She didn't know what she hovered above, since the Earth was gone, but with a thought she pushed herself to view the solar system from far away, from the vantage point of a god: just planets, seven of them, and a little orbiting hunk of debris about ninety-three million miles away from the Sun. But the physical was not what Skuld had been talking about. It was the metaphysical.