Ash Addict

by Al K. Line

  Maybe Carmichael had finally gone off the deep end and lost the plot entirely. That would explain it. And now I'd stolen his Teleron and Ivan had told every adept in the world where the warehouse was. Cerberus were right now fighting a war to prevent them, and stop the whole thing blowing up, and ash addicts were after us, and I didn't doubt Carmichael would be on his way, spitting blood and keener than ever to do nasty things to me.

  It was a mess, that's what it was. Some might say a clusterfuck, and I wouldn't argue with them.

  The only answer to any of this was to see it through to the end. Destroy Mikalus, destroy the warehouse, get the artifacts moved, and kill Carmichael.

  So, no time to sleep, not at such an important point in my wizardly career.

  Not Again

  "Arthur, wake up!"

  I nearly jumped out of my seat, and would have if it wasn't for the seatbelt. Where was I? Ah yes, in a stolen police car with a vampire driving me to an unknown destination while more vampires, amongst others, tried to stop us.

  "Ugh, must have dozed off. Didn't want to."

  "What are you talking about? You always crash at the most inappropriate time. Vicky told me all about it."

  "Yeah, well, I'm tired. It's all right for you, you wake up at night, sleep in the day."

  "I never get the chance to sleep, too much to do."

  "Whatever." I waved Ivan's words away and frowned. The noise I'd thought was coming from my foggy mind wasn't, it was coming from outside. More to the point, overhead.

  "Can you hear that?"

  "I sure can." I scratched at my beard, trying to place it. "Helicopter?"

  "Make that a very close helicopter that's been following us for the last five minutes. Which is how long it took to wake you up, I might add."

  "Told you. Sleepy."

  "Sleep later. Now we have to get away."

  "Not so easy in a stolen police car, is it? Now we'll have not only the vamps, but the cops, and whoever's in the helicopter after us. Is it a TV crew? They have choppers now, you know." I craned to see, but didn't want to risk opening a window in case they had zoom lenses. Instead, I pulled Grace low over my eyes and hunkered down.

  "No, it's not a TV crew. I don't know who it is. Could be anyone. Police, Tasius, Cerberus for all I know."

  "How do you know it isn't the TV then?"

  "Because that only happens in movies, not on quiet dual carriageways."

  "Wrong. You need to watch more TV. All the main stations, plus cable, and don't forget the big news channels, they all have choppers and teams of reporters all over the place."

  "Fine, it's the TV people."

  "Really?"

  "I don't know!" Ivan banged the steering wheel in exasperation.

  "Temper, temper."

  "We need a plan."

  "I know, and you screwed it up taking this car. What were you thinking?"

  "It may have been a rash move," Ivan conceded. "It may not have been a sensible decision."

  "Noob."

  "That isn't helping. What should I do? What should we do?"

  "Pull in there. There! Quick."

  Ivan swerved like a madman, took the turning, and floored it towards the service station we'd almost missed.

  "Do not," I warned, "steal anything stupid. In fact, leave it to me. Deal?"

  "Deal." Ivan slowed and drove at a leisurely pace around the back of the building.

  It was quiet, one of those twenty-four-hour places that served you rubbery burgers in plastic bread any time of the day or night.

  We got out, checked nobody was watching, then walked away casually.

  "Stop whistling," I told Ivan.

  "Sorry, was trying to act casual."

  "Whistling is not casual. It's weird. The only people who whistle are guilty people."

  "What if I like to whistle?"

  "Do you?"

  "Not really, no."

  "There you go then. Stay close, follow my lead, and for God's sake stop trying to act casual. You look guilty as hell."

  Ivan relaxed his shoulders and stopped glancing around furtively as we approached the large entrance. Several cars pulled in as we loitered by the doors, Ivan a picture of studied nonchalance, which made him look even dodgier than ever. I grabbed his arm and turned him to face me.

  "Just pretend we're having a conversation," I said.

  "We are, aren't we?"

  "Yes, but not a real one. Just so it looks like we're talking so we can be off soon."

  "Arthur, that makes no sense," whispered Ivan.

  "Oh yes," I said loudly, "I've got miles to go. Fancy meeting you here, what a strange coincidence." See, I was a true professional at acting casual.

  The lone drivers moved past without a second glance. With Ivan looking at me strangely, I grabbed him by the arm and led him quickly to the nondescript black sedan a man in a crumpled suit had just vacated.

  "Get in, don't look around, and buckle up."

  Ivan opened the passenger door and I got in the driver's side. Easy pickings. Lots of people leave their car unlocked at the services. After all, it's just other late-night motorists, and as long as you take your wallet or purse with you what's there to steal if you have the car key?

  Wand was sluggish, but did the honors without moaning too much before returning to dozing, the lucky sod. I buckled up, checked the coast was clear, then drove carefully away.

  I wound the window down and glanced behind as I heard the helicopter. It was circling the services but I think we'd lost them. At the roundabout just off the services I took a road at random, well away from the dual carriageway, then took the first turn, then another, then several more over the next few minutes until rejoining the main road for one junction. Then I turned off again and did several more quiet roads before getting back on once more.

  "Okay," I finally said. "I think that will do it. Now, where am I heading?"

  "Just keep driving until I tell you to turn."

  "I think you owe me now. Just tell me."

  "No. Drive."

  "You are such a grumpy sod at times. Okay, let's change the subject. How will we destroy the ashes?"

  "I'll tell you when you need to know."

  "Fine."

  We drove in silence for several miles, but that made me sleepy, so I opened my window and turned the radio on. It was a nighttime DJ with one of those voices perfect for sending you to sleep, so that didn't work.

  Instead, I switched to the music stored somewhere in the car, mysteries of modern technology I didn't even pretend to understand, and punched the touchscreen randomly.

  Something loud and manic screamed out at us, hardcore metal perfect for keeping me awake, and so, for the next ten minutes, we drove to the sounds of a man screaming and guitars riffing for all they were worth.

  "Turn here," said Ivan as he switched the music off.

  "Yes, boss."

  "No need to be cheeky."

  "We almost there? Wherever there is?"

  "Not long now. Just be prepared."

  "For what?"

  "For anything, I guess. The way this night is going, nothing will surprise me."

  "That's the spirit," I said as I slapped Ivan's leg. "You're learning. You'll make an adequate sidekick yet."

  "I am not the sidekick." Ivan pouted.

  "Well you sure as shit ain't the one running this. Stealing police cars! Even Vicky wouldn't make an amateur move like that."

  "Just drive," Ivan sighed.

  I drove.

  Betrayal

  Five minutes later, Ivan said, "Pull over here."

  "Where?" I saw nothing, just a lane.

  "Anywhere you can. Pull over."

  I did as he asked, parked in a little layby and turned off the engine. "This it?"

  "Not far, just into the woods over there. There's a path, it's all maintained, where people come for walks."

  "Um, okay. You sure this is it?"

  "I'm sure." Ivan looked grim, stressed-out and seri
ous. Guess this was hard for him to do. We were finally going to destroy Mikalus and it was making old memories resurface.

  We got out, the night freezing and damp.

  I followed Ivan without a word as we crossed the narrow road and passed a sign for the woods with a map of the various routes you could take.

  It was very dark, just the faint moon to guide us, but Ivan seemed to know exactly where we were going. After five minutes of bumbling about and getting whacked by branches and almost breaking my ankle on tree roots we came to a clearing.

  Ivan stopped in the center and I got up close so I could see him.

  "Here, take it," he said, pushing the canister into my hands.

  "What for? How do we do this?"

  "I'm sorry, Arthur, this is the only way."

  "What is? I don't understand."

  "This."

  Ivan thrust out and punched me in the chest. It really hurt.

  "What did you do that for"? I stared down at my chest, then at Ivan's still outstretched arm. Blood spread across the outline of my super-manly pecs, a black stain on my already black heart. In his hand was a short blade, gleaming as it caught the moonlight.

  "Ivan?" I wheezed, before keeling over.

  "I'm sorry."

  Then I died.

  You Again

  "You made it then," said Imaginary Figure of Death, although I think by now I'd determined he was very real, and very familiar. Too familiar, some might say.

  "Yeah, I got stabbed in the heart. Literally, and figuratively."

  "Is that it?" asked Death, his huge, seven feet plus frame bending forward where I imagined his hips must be.

  "Oi, watch it, you almost had my head off with your scythe."

  Death straightened, then twirled his scythe, tattered midnight black robes blowing gently in a breeze that blew nowhere but at him.

  "Sorry, just excited. Is that them?"

  "What? Is what, what?"

  "You know. Them?"

  I had a terrible feeling about this, worse than usual when I got killed and visited the Grim Reaper. I'd lost count of the number of lives I'd used up now, thanks to the gift from my faery godmother, but I knew I was running out of them, and fast.

  What did he say when I first arrived? You made it then? That wasn't good, was it? And now he was asking about the ashes? How did he know about them?

  My stomach did a somersault, I gulped, and asked, "Were you expecting me?"

  "Of course. Didn't they tell you?"

  "Who? Didn't who tell me?"

  "My, this is most irregular. Oh well, never mind. You're here now, that's the main thing. So, you ready to do it?" Death asked in a worryingly excited and keen voice. "It's best to do it now, save you trouble later."

  "Do what? What's going on here?"

  "You know, the thing. The clause in the contract. Hand him over." Death stretched out a bony hand, a skeletal hand, but it was blurred, like the rest of him, as you weren't allowed to see, not properly.

  "I'm not doing anything until I know what you're talking about." I stepped back, clattering the tiny pebbles on the infinite beach.

  "Let's not be foolish, Arthur, there was a deal made. You signed the contract, and now the time has come. Okay, almost, I made allowances. An early deal, better for you. So, please, I'm asking nicely, hand over the ashes and complete your side of the bargain."

  I tripped, sliding on the pebbles as I edged away up the slope of the beach, unsure what he was talking about but certain it was nothing I'd like. Here we went again with this contract business. Sasha had mentioned it in passing a few times lately, but was always evasive when I asked her about it, and Death was always his usual utterly unhelpful self. What was this all about?

  "Okay, wait," I said, holding my empty hand out, putting the ashes behind my back in the other. "What is this? What contract did I sign? I don't remember any contract. And who have you been talking to? Who have you been dealing with? You can't go deciding my fate with anyone but me. That's not how it works, is it?"

  "Oh, you poor mortal. You know nothing of how the spirit realm functions, do you?"

  "I'll have you know I've met more than my fair share of spirits. I've dealt with demons and all manner of creatures from the Nolands. I've seen the other side. I'm here, aren't I? I've done loads of stuff, you know that."

  "Yes, yes," said Death, irritated. "But you know nothing about how it all works."

  "What, and you do?"

  "A little, yes. I am Death, after all."

  "And let me guess, you can't tell me because of the rules?"

  "Exactly. You can only know what you know. I can't explain how this afterlife, how the passing from one state to another works. And I can't tell you what comes after this, where you go once you've met me and are on your way across the silent waters to your fate, to the afterlife you deserve."

  "And that's because you don't know, isn't it?" I accused. "You help people pass over, but you don't even know where they go. You deal with this little slice of the afterlife exclusively. You're Death, not God or the Devil or any of the myriad other gods. You take the register, like a schoolteacher taking a head count in class."

  "Wow, that was uncalled for. Bit below the belt, Arthur. I thought we were friends?"

  "Hey, last time I was here you were super moody and didn't help me one little bit. You were depressed, I tried to help you, but you were just rude."

  "I was having a bad day, a bad few centuries actually. Have you got any idea how confusing it is here? Not to mention boring. How much it messes with your head? I'm amazed I can keep sane having to deal with all you pesky mortals."

  "Why don't you tell me then," I said, edging away as Death glided forward effortlessly, trying to sneak up on me.

  "Can't. The rules, remember?"

  "Screw the rules. What do you want from me? Where's the damn ledger? Where's the desk and chair and the inkwell and the stupid quill? Why aren't you scratching out my name and sending me back?"

  "Because this time it's different. A deal has been made, the contract was signed years ago by you, and now you have brought the ashes. If I do this for you, help to avoid the calamity that will surely descend on the mortal world unless this thing is done, then you must fulfill the prophecy."

  "What bloody prophecy? I don't know what you're on about. Fuck!"

  "Mind your language," warned Death. "I won't have such a potty mouth here in such an important place. You would do well to remember who I am, what I am. What I can do," Death added ominously.

  "And what's that? I'm bloody dead, got stabbed by Ivan. How are the ashes here with me? But it's all symbolic, right? I mean, I'm still back there, lying on the ground in a pool of blood, holding this damn canister. But I never bring anything else with me. It's always just me, my clothes, Wand, and my hat."

  "Yes, but Wand is a mere stick here, nothing more. Your magic is negated, not part of this world. We are existing on a different wavelength, a different plane. You know that."

  "I do, so what's the deal? Why do I have a dead vampire in a can here?"

  "You are to give the ashes to me, and I am to help this poor, tormented soul pass over, permanently, to his true destiny. His afterlife."

  "He isn't there already?"

  "No, how could he be? You can't be resurrected once you've passed over. He is in limbo, waiting for a decision to be made. Either he is returned, or he waits for eternity. Unless he is released, given the freedom he deserves. He can be given his dues. By me."

  "Why haven't you done that then?"

  "Because he is no mere mortal. He is touched by an angel, and by a strange creature of the Nolands beyond even my ken, which makes it all rather complicated and awkward. But there is a way, and that way is someone bringing his earthly remains to me. He is here. You are here. I'm here. So let's get this party started."

  Death reached out again, his voice rising in pitch, excitement and a hint of anger. He really wanted these ashes, which made me very loathe to give them to him
.

  "Don't wanna."

  "You have to," whined Death. "Come on, it's not fair. I've done enough, spent an interminable eternity here. Please, give me the ashes of the First, let him finally find peace."

  My hand seemed to make a decision, and my arm came from behind my back, slowly moving forward to offer the canister to Death. Death reached out, ready to receive his gift, and my body trembled as I fought it. "No," I said, snatching my arm back. "You can't do this. You can't make me do things I don't want to do."

  "I can make you do a surprising amount, wizard. Do not cross me."

  Death grew several feet taller, took on an ominous, dark presence that became truly terrifying as his cloak became more tattered, and the boundary between cloth and bone, between rotting flesh and pure skeleton blurred. So ghastly was he that I almost puked as my mind reeled under an onslaught of terrifying visions and foul noises. The air stank of wretchedness and horrors unimaginable that would be inflicted on me. I sank to my knees, crying.

  "You will obey. You will fulfill the bargain and you will give me those ashes." Death's order boomed across the endless waters, bounced off the dark clouds that had amassed above, spread out across the infinite beach and crawled inside my head. True terror.

  I gasped, felt sicker than I ever had in my life, and yet I would not succumb. This was my life, and even if this meant the end of it all, the final curtain call, I wasn't about to agree to something I didn't understand, let alone a pact made by who? Sasha? Ivan? Nobody would dictate my future, however short-lived that may be.

  I was The Hat, and he would get himself killed on his own terms, thank you very much.

  "Ugh," I croaked, gasping for air.

  Suddenly the air cleared, my thoughts were my own again, I felt normal, and the mood lightened.

  "Ah well, it was worth a try. Figured you wouldn't agree, but I had to give it a go. See you next time, Arthur, and if I may offer some advice?"

  "Sure," I said, confused.

  "Be careful who you spend time with. Your friends are not always your friends. Look where you are, how you got here. Oh, and I'll be seeing you. This isn't over, and I am keen to finalize our arrangement. Shame it couldn't be now, but time is of no import here, as you will soon discover."