Grave Humor

by RJ Blain

  The grass ignited, and a wave of blue fire stretched out in an arch. Back before my parents had turned to drugs and other vices for happiness, the back yard had been a favorite place of mine, with neatly trimmed grass and the scattered trees standing tall, proud, and full of life, with the tallest oak sporting a swing for my enjoyment.

  The yard from my memory returned, although the flower beds and gardens would need to be replanted. The holy fire left dark soil in its wake, ready for my attention. The flames engulfed where the house had once stood and stretched into the front yard, halting at the property line and extinguishing at the street.

  “That is so cool,” I blurted.

  Gabriel chuckled. “I am many things, but I enjoy when I can transform a house into a home, and this yard was more of your home than the house itself, was it not? Holy fire is many things, but it is a tool of creation. My fire linked to your memories and brought many of those memories back to life. It is a form of healing blended with a form of destruction. Some of my brothers and sisters are even better at this art than I. We all have our purpose.”

  I killed the motor of the weed whacker and hurried across the perfectly trimmed grass to the giant oak, its swing, and the big, dark rock I had liked using as my launch platform. It took a stick or pole to bring the swing to my rock, but I’d loved the thrill of jumping off.

  My mother had thought of it as a death trap. My father had provided the stick and a little rope with a loop so I could pull the swing to me without wasting hours of time struggling with the task.

  I’d believed they had loved me then.

  While the holy fire had cut the grass and restored the yard to rights, the swing was long gone, and not even scraps of its ropes remained. I climbed onto the rock and sat, giving it a fond pat.

  Gabriel followed me. “Did you spend much time here?”

  “There used to be a swing here, so yeah. I did. I’d stand here and jump onto the swing.”

  “That’s the node,” the archangel informed me in a whisper.

  I frowned, shifting on the rock so I could stare at its dark surface. “Really? This is it? It’s a rock.”

  “Correct. It’s a rock. It’s a boring although rather large piece of quartz. And it is the power that human desires—and it cannot even do what he wishes. Mortals can be such troublesome creatures. You should return to your companion before he gets angsty, as he knows that human comes, and he does not want you far from him. He will be even more anxious because he does not wish for his burdens to be yours. He forgets the role of your aspect.”

  “What is my role, if I am as you believe?”

  “New beginnings—the life that comes after death. You are also the mercy of death. You represent everything beyond death’s doors. Azrael shepherds the good. Eoghan is the facet of death who welcomes all. But you? You’re the one who guides souls from death back to life. Until now, your role has been handled by the universe itself, until mortals broke the chain. The devil’s daughter brought much death through her choices, but because of her, you could reach your potential now, and thus, the chain is restored. Without her, the node would not have sparked your awakening into your profile—and those who had tried to circumvent death would have caused the universe itself to turn its back on this Earth, beginning the End of Days. Because of you, the circle of life continues. Eoghan and Azrael both merely need to exist for their power to manifest all over the mortal coil. The same applies with you and your power. But, you pay a dear price for that. For you, and for them, there is no end. You, like the universe, are eternal. And that is why Eoghan often sleeps. He will sleep less with you at his side—and he will find the screaming to be lessened with your presence.”

  It took me a few minutes to think through the ramifications of the archangel’s statement. I would worry about the rest of my life and the lack of its end later. “But how could the devil’s daughter have done such a thing? Did she come here?”

  “She didn’t have to. She just had to be at the right place at the right time. That’s all. Because she was at the right place at the right time, other events were put into motion that led to that Hammel human attempting to circumvent death, which woke your potential. The universe no longer needs to replant the seeds of life. You do that just by existing. But that’s also a price you’ll ultimately pay, the same price Azrael and Eoghan pay. The End of Days will come and go, and you three will persist. After the End of Days, Azrael will sleep while waiting for the rebirth of the angelic host. He will no longer be an angel then, but rather an essence. You will likely shed your mortal form as well. Like Eoghan, I think you’ll find the form of a black canine pleasing, although you may go the feline route simply to annoy him.”

  I laughed at the thought of being a cat just to annoy Eoghan. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Of course, although you will find the black dog’s shape easier for you to master due to the number of myths surrounding the form. It is a symbol, and such symbols have power.”

  “Can we make it work for so long?”

  “Until death do you part does take on an entirely new meaning when you will never cease to exist—and never is a long time. I suspect you will both sleep between the more boring eras, as that’s what the true immortals tend to do. And when the End of Days comes to its ultimate conclusion, you will be the light in the dark. The universe will provide the new world, but it is your hands that will replant the first seeds of life in the next existence. But yes, with enough courage and strength, you could make your eternity a glorious thing. You two fit together. He will find comfort in your presence, for you will make the passage from life to death an easier burden. The dying find peace when their souls recognize there is life beyond. You will find peace and comfort in his presence, as you know there are none Eoghan rejects. I pity the souls of those who stir your ire.”

  “That sounds a little farfetched to me,” I confessed.

  “You will understand soon, although you’ve scratched at the surface of it.”

  I could think of one thing that might fit a scratched surface involving death. “The boundary. When Gordon bit me. Is that what you’re talking about?”

  “Yes, that was the moment where you touched your true potential. Gordon has become special because of what you are.”

  “How so?”

  Gabriel rolled his shoulders and leaned against my dark rock. “What do you know about vampires?”

  “Well, according to the CDC, when a vampire dies and is brought back, someone else’s soul takes the body. They keep the body’s original name, but the person the vampire was is gone. True resurrection is an impossibility. Some speculate the new soul is often like the old person, but the truth remains: the original soul is gone.”

  “In reality, the original soul is bound to the comatose body and is considered lost until the vampire is destroyed. That soul slumbers, dormant. Some misguided fools, the ones’ my brother’s daughter stopped, were circumventing the universe’s price for that sort of immortality and knocked everything out of balance. The vampires they created were using imprisoned souls stolen from the vampires to fuel other undead. They were creating a situation where multiple awake souls occupied one body. Not all vampires have a dormant and a conscious soul. The original vampires swapped souls with each other, as their creation was an act of pure love and tragedy. There are no imprisoned souls with them. They are different because of that. Their offspring are also different.” Something akin to regret laced the archangel’s voice.

  “What’s wrong? Why do you sound so regretful?”

  “The day the first vampires were created was the true beginning of this Earth’s end. They bent the universe’s sacred rules about death. He finds them sad, but they are also His beloved. They were a mistake, but they were—and still are—a beloved mistake. If all vampires were like them, many things would be different. But all vampires are not like them, until now. Until Gordon.”

  Crap. I’d done more than just meddle. “I made a mess of things again, didn’t I?�
��

  “No, but you may have inadvertently undone the damage done so long ago. I will not look into the future of the next risen vampire to discern the nature of that soul, but it would be a good thing for this world should only one soul be bound to one body. It is a damnation, Anwen. The soul that becomes the vampire leads a cursed life in many ways—and the captive soul is damned to limbo until the vampire is destroyed. While the original vampires broke the laws of the universe in a fashion, they also followed the laws as well. One body, one soul.”

  Ugh. “But I thought only one soul can occupy one body. Vampires have two souls?”

  “That is correct. When Gordon was made during the emergence, his true soul was trapped, dormant and held hostage in limbo while the damned vampiric soul controlled his body. The soul is bound to the body but drifts in the eternal void that makes up the universe itself. It is neither here nor there. It is part of that body yet separate. There are two souls, one that is ultimately lost in slumber, and the vampiric soul, which is yet another tragedy in the tragedy that is a vampire’s existence. You untangled the pair of souls bound to Gordon’s body, allowed the vampiric soul to return to its rest while waking Gordon’s true soul and returning it from limbo. He remains a vampire, but he is not like the others of this age. You may be able to restore other vampires to their true souls, too. If the original soul has not been destroyed, you can unite them and set the vampiric soul free.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You keep saying freeing the vampiric soul. Why?”

  “Unlife is as much of a blessing as it is a curse. The vampire’s active soul is usually suffering through damnation of some sort, enduring punishment for their sins. You have given Gordon a great gift, and you did so for no other reason than desiring what was best for him and his soul—and returning his true soul was what was best for him. Eoghan hates hearing the screams because he hears the broken hopes of the dead. You are his mirror, and you bring hope wherever you go. There is a reason the dead rose and sought you out here. You care, even for the lowest of them.”

  I grimaced. “Like Old Man McGregor.”

  “He is an excellent example.”

  “I feel sorry for him.”

  “That is because you are a being of compassion. That is part of your role in the cycle of life and death. It is the universe’s sense of compassion that makes it bring renewal after death. You embody that compassion. It is the same reason you were willing to work with Eoghan despite the harshness of your first meeting with him.”

  “Huh. And here I just thought I was attracted to arrogant assholes.”

  “That is a factor in your behavior,” the archangel replied.

  “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

  “You are as you need to be.”

  “Why do I have a weird skull like Eoghan and Azrael? I wasn’t born in the same era.”

  “Modern humans are not compatible with older species of humans. For the universe to partner you with him, it had to make you in his image—in that you are the same species of human. Were you a modern human, you could share the same bed, but you could never share the same bed and produce a child from your union. This gives you that option, and long-lived species tend to wish for children down the road to add flair to their lives. For you, being a parent will be a hard but rewarding journey.”

  I understood. “We will have to watch our children die.”

  “You will. But they will move from one life to the other with no fear of what it means to die. I expect Azrael will shepherd them to your Eoghan, and you will send them beyond the boundary in as much comfort as you can. It will be a sad thing, of course. Death is for those left behind—but the reward of having them is worth the pain of their loss. But you will take those souls who hurt the most in their prior life and give them a taste of what it means to be cherished. You will be fine.” The archangel turned, and aware he did have a head, I suspected he observed something in the front yard beyond my view. “The human comes. I recommend you stand close to my brother, doing so knowing you lure that one to his end. My brother will feel better handling the duty of ending that one’s existence, and Eoghan will rest easier knowing you didn’t take holy fire and use it on a mere mortal. He finds holy fire disconcerting.”

  “Why?”

  “It makes the souls scream.”

  Ah. “Poor Eoghan.”

  “My brother will be merciful—for now. But when he is taken to my brother’s many hells? My brother will erase mercy from his definition. That human has earned every moment of suffering. Then that soul will be balanced once more and returned to the mortal coil to be planted again.”

  “I don’t have to actually do anything for that to happen, do I?”

  “Exist,” the archangel replied.

  “My job seems deceptively easy.”

  “You are about to learn the truth of it. Choose how you wish this to end.”

  “Is the devil’s hand the most merciful here?”

  “Yes, I would say so. Death will be swift—swifter than how you would do the job yourself. Your Eoghan has no interest in mercy at this point in time.”

  Right. “Isn’t he supposed to be neutral?”

  “He does not do well at being neutral when it comes to you.”

  I considered that and shrugged. “If the bastard touches Lady Luck, I’m shoving the weed whacker up his ass and killing him that way.”

  “Fortunately for everyone here, we will not need to witness such horrors today.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am certain.”

  “Instead of a scythe, can I keep the weed whacker?”

  “You just want your lawn to be easy to maintain,” the archangel accused.

  “Well, yes.”

  “If you were to invite my brother to picnic here with his wife, we would surely show up to tease him, as it is a joy in our long lives. It seems fair if we were to help you with your lawn care should we be here for such a picnic.”

  “Bargain made!” I marched to the devil to stand behind him, setting the head of the weed whacker on the ground. “Hey, Lucy?”

  “Yes, Anwen?”

  “We should have a picnic once a week so I can make Michael and Gabriel help me mow my lawn.”

  “As such entertainment cannot be purchased, consider it done. Darlene will enjoy that. Even an hour among friends is a balm on her soul.”

  Gabriel sat beside his brother on the blanket. “I think you will find your beloved’s soul will have little need of any balms in the future.”

  “But she likes it.”

  “You can still do it. You’re the Lord of Lies. Lie as you are inclined to do.”

  The devil glared at his brother.

  “He comes,” Michael announced. “Do let it play out, Eoghan. Remain a neutral witness. Do not make a mess of a good thing being stubborn and male.”

  Eoghan scowled. “I do not like this.”

  “You were not supposed to like it. Let her fly. And should she fall, then it is the appropriate time to tear the annoying human male rival apart and help him on his way to visit my brother’s many hells.”

  The devil cleared the picnic blanket and eased his sleeping wife off his lap. “I love when my brothers are reduced to encouraging me to bring murder and mayhem to the mortal coil. This is even better than Christmas.”

  “I feel like you’re now using your wife as bait so you can murder someone.” Then again, did it matter if the devil used his wife as bait? As long as she slept through the murder, she wouldn’t care—and I didn’t want to find out how the snow leopard reacted to being woken from a trauma-induced nap.

  “Yes, I am. I do enjoy a good murder. I’m just using you as an excuse to be able to participate in a legitimatized murder. Which is entirely your fault, as you’re not stopping me. You could if you wanted. As for my wife, she tends to rampage, and if I’m not fast enough with my murder, she’ll steal my kill and shred the body by the time she’s done with him.”

  “I see you two are well matched in g
eneral brutality.”

  “My wife sincerely enjoys winning. I enjoy winning. It’s a constant battle. Eoghan, you would be wise to let the woman win from time to time. It makes her less eager to try to kill you.”

  “Perhaps if you would set aside your egotistical ways for five minutes, she may not wish to kill you,” my antique replied.

  “While this is true, we would have a great deal less fun, and I enjoy fun. My wife? She makes much of my life fun. One day, you’ll understand. I think you already do. She will test your patience. She will make you like it, too.”

  “You’re a menace,” Eoghan announced.

  That the devil was, but rather than point out he announced the obvious, I smiled, shook my head, and waited for the former director to arrive so I could focus on what the rest of my eternal life would bring.

  Nineteen

  Few souls have a hard alignment with the forces of good, evil, order, or chaos.

  The incident in the cemetery had broken something in Hammel, and the once proud man walked as though he’d taken up the weight of the world on his shoulders and found the burden impossible to bear. Something in his eyes, however, put me on edge.

  “You see his approach to death,” Michael whispered in my ear despite his place seated on the far side of the picnic blanket. “That something is the boundary between life and death, which is reflecting against the deepest parts of his soul. He has sealed his fate coming here.”

  “Put your head back on its shoulders where it belongs,” I complained. “That’s just awful.”

  The archangel laughed. “It is just some magic, Anwen. My head is where it belongs. I am simply opting to project my voice into your ear at a whisper rather than agitate the fool behind me.”

  The fool caught sight of me, and the man’s expression darkened.

  A smart woman would have run. I hid behind the devil and grabbed hold of the weed whacker’s starter in case I needed to take a few swings.