Roses for Abadeer
Of Frozen Time and Peppermints
Withered souls screamed in a sea of despair, thousands of ghoulish forms pushing and pulling along a never-ending road into hell. There were demons here, some flying, others crawling around on their many legs. Most of the land was of this strange sort of chaos, all primitive and exotic buildings alit with flame. The ripe smell of blood and entrails was heavy in the air and bile spurted up from funneling volcanoes all around her.
A great green cloud shot death mist from its core, exploding creatures below into a find dust of brimstone upon contact. It flew around unbiased and cruel, crossing overhead as the woman floated closer to her destination.
Panic was a song sung by everyone as the land's inhabitants scurried from their terrible deaths.
She took a deep breath and shrugged.
"Daddy, I'm home."
No one was in the kitchen when she checked for her father, opening the door of the fridge briefly to snag a red-colored plate stacked with leftover sandwich. It looked incredibly delicious and she realized how hungry she actually was. She tossed the food aside and drained the dish, sated.
"Hello? Dad? You here?"
A crash of pottery followed closely behind. She didn't need a white plate after all.
"Baby!" Came a man's voice from the doorway. His accent was soft with happiness. "Marceline, you're actually here to see me? How wonderful. And I didn't even have to kill one of your friends!"
"Oh, daddy." She blushed and pushed playfully out of the hug he gave her. Fixing her bangs, she stood there shaking her head. One thousand and twenty years old and you'd think she was only four hundred with the way he still treated her.
"So, Marcy, what's up, baby? Is this your way of saying you've come to take over the family business?"
The woman hovered up and onto the kitchen counter unaffected. "No dad. I actually came to talk to you about something."
"Oh?"
Shrugging and not taking seriously the situation, Marceline explained what Jake had said about the Keeper of Time, all the while rolling her eyes and pretending not to be desperate. She left out everything having to do with Simon. He'd been a touchy subject with her father for ages.
"…and I thought if anyone, you'd know how to get in touch with this Prismo guy. Being so cool and all."
Hunson looked grave as she finished her story. So serious, in fact, that his daughter was shocked silent.
"Marceline," the demon lord began grimly, "do you even know what you are asking?"
"Oh, come on dad. It can't be all that bad."
He closed his eyes solemnly, unable to meet hers until he checked his emotions. Prismo, the name a curse on his tongue. For a Demon King ruling over pure chaos, nothing in history had challenged his patience so much as that damn Prismo. How in Glob's name did she…no. Play it cool, Abadeer.
He chuckled a little more forcefully than he needed to. "Well, honey, if wishes were what you were after, I have this amulet you might like –"
"We did that, remember? About ten years ago? Tricked me into wearing your amulet and I rampaged through the city? Come on, dad."
Her father looked crestfallen. "Oh, yeah, heheh. Forgot."
He pouted slightly, looking around for something else. "Well, what about…this…fork! The Fork of Damnation! Heeyaa hee yaaaa…pbbfftt…"
He swooped it in the air like a plane and blew odd noises for sound effect.
"Dad," she rolled her eyes, stopping his display abruptly, "it's just a fork. Do you know how to contact Prismo or not?"
Deflated, the man threw the blasted thing through the open window and a sharp cry outside was heard.
"Marceline, baby, just tell daddy what you need and he'll make it happen. Don't worry about this Prismo nonsense."
"Ugh, I should have known you wouldn't help me."
"Marceline, it's not that…"
"I'll see you in a few hundred years, dad."
The woman pushed off the counter and floated outside through the cavern wall, ignoring the worried protests of her father and the sounds of pain coming from a passerby with a fork in his eye. It was suddenly way too stuffy down here in the pits of hell. She needed some fresh air to cool off.
If he wouldn't help her, well, she knew of only one other being in Ooo that was just evil enough to possibly be of assistance. Mortal and demon alike feared his awesome power. His dark trades were a thing of legend. His services would come at a price but Marceline would do anything to save Simon. She just hoped he would have the answer.
The vampire queen went through the portal to the mortal realm and headed for Candy Kingdom.
In a small cavern off the mountain a ways, overlooked by a gumball guardian, was a lair drenched in dark magic and unspeakable power. This was a place marked by the Globs as one never to govern, a blacked out stain on the celestial map which was allowed to fester and flourish as its sole proprietor thought necessary.
A laughing half-baked dessert pastry had been suspended by his small arms and legs over a glowing green fire. His dire predicament did nothing to his endless enjoyment. Cinnamon Bun swayed with unintelligible bliss, not knowing that his pitiful soul would soon be trade for horrifying demonic supremacy.
Down below a little striped fellow in the crisp dress of a serviceable man threw something ghastly into the flames, chanting in a dialect not heard in some thousand years.
"…anima vestra mihi diabolo, et exivit ab inferis! Venite ... venite, et quæritis me propositum tenebris!"
"Hey Peppermint Butler," a woman's voice casually exclaimed from the cavern mouth.
The interruption threw the round candy man off kilter and he yelped with all the cute evil dwelling in his current form. The green flame, until now growing stronger with each demonic chant, died promptly away. Cinnamon Bun seemed almost disappointed.
With a hiss, Peppermint Butler began to curse the fool responsible.
"Ego scindam cutem a carne tua et vestietur ea aaron sicut capa…oh, it's just you, Marceline. To what do I owe the…pleasure? I trust it isn't because of your father."
His beady white eyes seemed to open into an empty cavernous void she wanted no part of, and feeling self-conscious, the woman dropped her gaze. He and her dad went way back. Marceline wasn't sure how far back…but the two of them had an…understanding of sorts. As far as she was aware Hunson Abadeer owed him a life debt of some kind which kept her dad under his thumb. On the rare occasion Pep would drop by the Nightosphere, a game of golf and an afternoon's worth of embarrassing flattery was his to cherish.
"Well, actually, sort of," at the sudden flare of dark interest in the peppermint's eye, Marceline amended, "but he doesn't know I'm here or anything. I came to ask you for a favor."
A tense moment passed while the little candy stared into her soul.
"Ahh, very interesting."
The woman watched wearily as the small round man walked with pensive deliberation around the pit he had previously been using, now bare and fireless. Cinnamon Bun tried to wave at her but his arms were tied up. Peps reached the midway point of his procession and turned slightly, curiosity piqued.
"And pray tell, what is this favor you ask of me?"
"I was wondering if you…knew Prismo?"
"…The Time Keeper?"
"So, you do know him then?"
Marceline looked positively relieved.
"…Perhaps."
And then, just as equally terrified.
The Butler had his entire attention focused on her, watching her face intently. His frozen smile was a little too emotionless for comfort. She looked away, feigning indifference.
"So, do you know a way into his dimension? No big deal or anything." She carefully worded, sounding as aloof as she could as he dissected her innards with an unerring eye. Suddenly she wanted to go find her dad…
"That depends on you, my dear. There is something I require in return. A…trade if you will."
She watched him circle back around the empty pit. Ominous energy swirled in the air and she could feel his mortal form flicker from the stress of binding it. Back and forth he paced, feet clicking pronouncedly on the cavern floor. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
When at last she couldn't stand it, the vampire queen asked in a meek voice, "what do you require?"
"Nothing much, really, just something you probably won't even miss."
"..Like?"
The clicking stopped and a terrible soundless void filled its place. She couldn't bring herself to look up at him.
"Your immortality."
"What? No, I —"
"It's simple, you see; you will give to me claim over your immortal soul. Oh, you will still be immortal. You are half-demon regardless of our pact. Ageless, untouched by time, even deathless perhaps…but I and I alone will have rights to do as I please with your soul."
Marceline turned to leave. "I'd have to be a fool."
But the peppermint man only smiled sweetly.
"Then you may as well kiss Simon goodbye."
Frozen in panic, she looked back at him with stark surprise.
"How did you –?"
The laugh was dreadful. The stuff of nightmares. It echoed in the chamber and with each pass grew more terrible than the last.
"Oh, I know everything, my dear. Everything."
And suddenly he was upon her, mere inches from her unsuspecting form. White dead eyes stared up at Marceline and his fangs had grown to match that of his true form. The chorus of demonic voices emanating from this mint was no longer the cheerful light timbre of his Butler persona, but one so evil and wretched that for all she knew it may have been speaking directly through her mind.
"So the choice is yours, Marcy. Give me your immortality and save Simon, or spend eternity in loss of him."
"I…"
"Come now, child of Abadeer. Can you truly go on existing without him?"
Marceline knew in her heart he was right. Although all signs pointed to this being a very bad idea indeed, love once again clouded her judgment, and his offer suddenly seemed rather intoxicating.
It was true what he said. She barely had made it through these last thousand years without Simon. The hope of one day having him return had kept her going, but as the years progressed and his condition only worsened, even that reason was slowly being drained. At this rate she'd lose him to the Ice King completely.
For a split second it all seemed to make so much sense. She never used her soul anyway. She wasn't even sure a vampire could have a soul, let alone give it away. For all she knew she could be signing away something even she wasn't entitled to and this would be a win-win on her part. She'd still be immortal, and above all else, she'd have Simon back.
The demon, formally known as Peppermint Butler, sensed her twisting to his will. With a wave of a careless hand, a contract on the skinned flesh of a demon presented itself midair. A skeletal quill with ink the color and thickness of blood popped into existence next to it. Pep smiled a toothy grin.
"So..?" He prompted encouragingly, floating the quill to her nervous hand. "What shall it be?"
"What will you do with my soul?"
"Oh, nothing for you to concern yourself about."
Another deep sonorous laugh, like the shutting of tombs beneath miles of rubble, echoed off the cavern walls around her.
In her mind's eye she saw that old photograph, a young careless Simon looking so happy in shades of grey and flannel. What she would give to be there with him…to hear him speak without dementia. See him smile for her, knowing it wasn't under the influence of a silly brain on crown. See those flowers in person and know what color they were, finally. For him, she'd even pretend to like cocoa. Just to see him happy and himself again.
Simon, she vowed no matter what the outcome. Simon, I will save you from yourself. I promise.
Closing her eyes and taking a breath, she signed her name in blood.