Chapter 53: Funeral Pyre
XXX
"I'm sorry Keiichi."
Belldandy saw the pain on his face and drew him into her arms and saw how those three little words alone seemed to destroy him. "Yggdrasil, I'm so sorry." She watched as the shock melted from his face like candlewax beneath a hot flame, and how the heated meaning behind her own words left its mark on him as his face twisted in pain and contorted in denial. She watched his skin, pale first from shock and fear, now pinken with unspent emotion as he stared down at the body on the table, and without thinking slipped her hand into his. His fingers curled around it with a sudden, fierce desperation, and in it she felt all the pain, all the depression, all the defeat that was due to him in this final moment of grief. This was just the edge, she knew. The beginning of a long road of pain and recovery, as she'd seen how much he'd still cared for Debra, even as he'd come to care for her, and shared a similar pain of loss that differed only in flavor from their loss of Urd.
She squeezed his hand back in a wordless display of support, I am here, and looked at the body that had been brought for identification- what little there was left to identify- and felt her own grief at the sight. This was not how it was supposed to go. When she had finally begun to conquer her inner demons surrounding Debra Johansson, when they had finally just begun to put their differences aside, when they'd battled side-by-side as allies and had brought the man they'd loved back from the edge of death itself...
For a moment the body on the table vanished, and in its place lay Urd in her human form, her wounds the grievous injuries suffered upon her brief and terrible return to Asgard. She saw her sister's brow where it had been split open by their grandfather in a blow that should have killed if not for her sister's remarkable resilience. She saw the arrow that protruded from the other brow, one of many injuries inflicted by the Valkyries, and saw her stomach, torn open by magical hounds and seared shut by magical flames, and felt her heart wrench. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, focusing her senses on anything, anything that might take her away from the body on the table and the body in her mind, and found little in the way of escape. The hospital chittered with the muffled voices of those in pain, those who were ill, those who diagnosed, and those who mourned their last moments. The air smelled artificial and sweet, as if they were trying to hide the underlying scent of sickness and death that haunted this place.
A sudden and inexplicable sensation of claustrophobia struck her and her throat locked, making it hard to breathe and difficult to swallow. This is no place of healing, she would later reflect, this is where the dying come to pass. A cruel thought, she knew, to label a house of healing such as this place in such a manner, yet one that she could not shake despite her best efforts.
She busied herself observing Keiichi's face instead, watching with a morbid fascination as the man's lips peeled back in a snarl of repressed emotion, his teeth clenched so tight she wondered that they didn't crack. His face seemed to darken even as it lit itself up in a pink cast of suppression, and she fancied that he was holding back a scream. His forehead was shiny in the artificial light of the room, and on his left temple a vein began its slow and valiant climb towards bulging, joining another deep-rooted vein that was already prominent in his neck. An outstanding attempt at self-control, and one Belldandy already recognized as one near failing. At this point, it was close to certain that the only thing holding Keiichi Morisato's emotions back was shock, still laying its numbing blanket of woe around his shoulders.
She sucked in a deep breath, then dug into her pockets with her free hand, remembering too late that this was a new set of clothes and that her magic had abandoned her in this moment. Her hands came up empty of change, and for that she felt another wave of guilt crash into her. Death was a demanding entity, even amongst gods, and for those times when it came to retrieve those who passed there were certain traditions that were expected to be followed.
Yet her pockets were empty of any loose change, and she had nothing but lint with which to pay the way for Debra's safe passage. She looked at the remains before her with fresh regret, and knew that she'd failed even with Death resting before her. I have not even pennies to pay your fare upon the river Styx, she thought. Forgive me. May the one who collects you be kind and charitable in my failure.
Next to her, Keiichi released a choked sob. She looked at him, watching as tears began to trail down his cheeks and his face twisted into a painful grimace.
Without thought she pulled him into an embrace, and felt his arms wrap around her as another choked sob managed to escape him. She felt her own eyes began to warm and moisten but didn't stop to question it. Now was the time for empathy. Now was the time for the sharing of pain. Now was the time to lessen the burden.
Now was the time the shock broke, and Keiichi Morisato began to grieve.
XXX
It was Thursday night in San Francisco, California, and Keiichi Morisato walked with his shoulders drawn high and his back hunched over, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans as he wandered down streets that once held meaning to him and roads he now only vaguely recalled. He ignored the people he passed, some of whom gave him a wide berth while others shoved past him with blatant disregard for his person. He paid none of them any mind, for his thoughts were as lost as his person, being so consumed by his own black mood that he could have shoved past a demon and never known it or even walked off a cliff at the ends of the earth and never realized it.
Debra was gone.
It was this thought and this thought alone which captured his attention, another new, fresh black mark to add to the ever growing collection of California's attractions: Tired of your boring old life? Want to feel the exhilarating thrill of death? Then come on down to good ol' SanFran Bay! Home to demons and monsters and death (oh my!). And oh, had he gotten his share of all of the above. Plenty of demons, a glimpse of a monster, and death. Death by the gallons. Death every which way he turned.
Debra was gone.
His chest felt tight and constricted, as if some kind of black snake had curled into his rib cage and encircled his lungs, his heart, and his throat. It made it difficult to breathe, difficult to think, because each time that thought circled back his chest would get a little tighter, he'd feel himself choking a little bit more. He felt like he might break down screaming with the next step he might take.
Debra was gone.
It hadn't been anyone's fault. Keiichi had to keep telling himself that. It wasn't anyone's fault. Now that there'd been some time to investigate, to test blood and examine the scene and, well, whatever else investigators did at accidents, evidence had all pointed to it being just that. Sleep deprivation had been the biggest one on Debra's behalf; right now the going theory was that she'd fallen asleep behind the wheel (which was stupid, the voice of experience claimed, Deb knew her limits, it was something else, something to do with what she'd experienced with Keiichi and Bell, it had to be, it had to) leading to her losing control and veering into the incoming lane of traffic where she was plowed by a semi-truck. One of the huge eighteen-wheelers that had been hauling a loaded trailer cross-country.
They told him it had been fast- Deb's rental was a tiny Sedan that hadn't stood a chance against the semi. It had been damn near steamrolled after the truck had hit it dead-on. They'd told him it had been quick, that the crumpled metal that had once been the engine had smashed into her head before she'd even realized what happened. That by the time first responders had extracted her from the vehicle she'd already been closer to death then life, and that she'd passed away peacefully in the back of the ambulance despite the best efforts of the paramedics on call.
Keiichi wasn't so sure.
Bell had tried all her might to get the two of them to Deb safely. She'd strained and sworn and wept in frustration when she could do nothing, but by that time they'd already been pulling into the San Mateo Medical Facility, and the shock had started to set in for Keiichi. Belldandy had apologized, over and over and over again, and each time he'd met it with calm reassurance. Shock was one hell of a drug, that was for sure, and likewise, he found that even after the shock had passed, he didn't blame her. Couldn't blame her, as how could he? She'd spent her magic dry fighting through one demon after the next, bringing Keiichi back from the brink of death and even saving Aiko from whatever the puma-spirit-god thing was that had possessed her. She'd overexerted herself, something that had never occurred to Keiichi, and though he'd desperately wanted to see Deb-to see her alive, to see her in at least her final moments, to at least let her know he was there…
Well, even the gods could be prone to failure, so it seemed.
But fuck, didn't it hurt like hell when that failure popped up to kick him in the balls.
He'd met the semi-truck's driver at the hospital. The man was being treated for his own injuries, which proved to be minor physically but colossal on an emotional level. The guy had been young. Early twenties, at most, and looked to be in about the same level of shock as Keiichi himself. Keiichi still didn't know how it happened, but somehow, the man had learned that Keiichi was Debra's husband (no 'ex' here, never 'ex' in the good ol' heart of California) and had approached Keiichi calmly at first, but had then opened his mouth and had just… wept. All his composure just… gone. Apologies that never really sank in for Keiichi, even now. Sobbing attempts at explanations from what he'd seen, how Deb had just 'come out of nowhere', and how he'd tried to swerve around her but had been unable to without losing control of his monster of a truck. How he accepted full blame for Deb's death in spite of the uncomfortable attempts at reassurance from the nurse treating his injuries, a few bruises and scrapes and a minor concussion in comparison to the crumpled soda can that had crushed Deb into pulp. Keiichi was not really following it, not really hearing it, not really feeling it sink in as his own thoughts turned to how he was going to tell Deb's father, how he was going to tell his father, and his mother, and oh god, Megs would be crushed and Aiko…
And a nurse had led him away from the truck driver, whose face was now a smudge and whose name he hadn't bothered to remember, and had instead led him down to the morgue. Belldandy, a silent shadow, had followed him, and at some point, he thought he even recalled the goddess holding his hand, which he'd gripped like a vice, and who at some point had gone so far as to hold him when the hospital mortician brought Debra's body out for identification. She'd been unrecognizable as the woman he'd seen the night before, and at some point, the shock that had enveloped him in a hazy fog had broken and he'd lost his composure, disclaiming the crushed body as his ex-wife and accusing the men around them of playing a sick joke on him. He yelled. He screamed. He wept. In that moment of weakness, he even lashed out at Belldandy, if for no other reason than that she was there and he needed someone to blame. Though most of it was foggy now, he could still recall parts of it... moments in time where he'd pleaded with Belldandy for the wish back. Begged her to bring Debra back, to allow Keiichi to take Debra's place, and Belldandy's somber refusals and admission that she could do none of what Keiichi asked of her.
His desperation had led him to anger, and in his pain Keiichi had thrown accusations at her. That Belldandy was somehow responsible for Debra's death. That this had been what the goddess had wanted, or of some such madness of how convenient it was for her magic to fail her when Debra needed it the most. He'd seen the hurt in her eyes but hadn't cared, too lost in his own pain.
Belldandy had weathered through his verbal aggressions like a strong tree through a storm, holding him as he'd sobbed, placing herself between him and the staff, the truck driver, hell, even Deb, with little care for herself. Though Keiichi screamed and howled and roared and sobbed, the goddess remained resilient. Even when he'd expended his anger, his sadness, and was left feeling hollow and miserable, Belldandy had remained, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she held him close.
Reflecting on it now, Keiichi was grateful for her company. Her presence had been comforting, and against all odds, the Norn hadn't lost her patience with him nor abandoned him, though deep down some part of him knew his words had hurt her.
Later, when the grief had been exhausted and the tears had ceased to come, when he'd called his family to pass on the message and Keima had promised to call Debra's father, Joshua, Keiichi had apologized to Belldandy.
The drama that had followed as they returned to the hotel had been agonizing. Megumi and Takano had been inconsolable. Megumi had lost a sister. Takano had lost a daughter, and of all of them, except for perhaps Keiichi himself, who'd lost one of his closest friends and his former wife on top of that, they'd grieved the worst. The hours following had been near unbearable, and now, with the hotel long gone and the Morisato family back in the house the family had grown up in, Keiichi wandered.
He needed time away from the others. Time to be alone, to reflect on everything that had happened since coming to California and what would come next now that Debra was gone. He'd been afraid the family wouldn't grant him that opportunity, but had been surprised when first Keima, and then Belldandy had stepped up to his defense. "Take all the time you need." Those had been Belldandy's words, and he thought, as he was pulling on his shoes and grabbing his wallet and keys, that Belldandy got it. He looked at her and saw a similar pain, and perhaps even a similar desire to be alone and away from everyone else. She had given him a wan smile and squeezed his hands as she saw him off. "Take all the time you need, but come back to us." Her voice roamed around in his head, both the words the goddess had said and the words she hadn't said and the implication behind those words.
He wasn't planning on doing anything stupid. He'd heard the concern in her voice, and had assured her that he was just going for a walk. And for the most part, that was all he was doing, going for a walk through his old neighborhood. It had grown exponentially in the years he'd been away from home, the streets had grown so unfamiliar that it may as well have been that his parents had relocated since he'd been gone. The old Spanish grocery store Takano and Keima had frequented had been torn down. In Its place was an apartment complex made of brick and mortar, stacked high at five stories. The old elementary school he'd attended in his youth had grown to encompass two of the neighboring blocks, and as he walked past the surrounding wire fence he saw trailers that had been parked to accommodate additional classrooms for students. The old park he and Megumi and Deb used to play softball at was gone too, replaced by a gas station hosting a billboard requesting that people PROTECT YOUR ENVIRONMENT: RECYCLE. He stared at the billboard for a long time, engulfed in a feeling of longing and loss before finally rousing himself enough from his thoughts to move on.
At some point, when the sun had long since passed beneath the horizon and the slim and sleek curve of a silver moon peered down at him from beneath a hazy night sky, the surrounding area lost what little tang of nostalgia it had left and fell into the realm of the unfamiliar. It was around here that Keiichi paused and looked around, trying to gather his bearings and coming up empty as he looked up at street signs with obscure names and buildings that looked old, empty, and forgotten in San Francisco's modern rush. Many of the signs that accompanied the buildings were old and dirty or made of broken glass and rusted sheet metal that disguised their names and their wares. Well look at you, wandering onto the wrong side of the tracks, some snide voice whispered in his ear. Better watch your back, Boyo, wouldn't want to get stabbed now, would we?
He fancied the idea for a moment of some mugger or druggie or murderer jumping him from the shadows with a pocket knife in hand, demanding his wallet or his life or not even bothering and just straight up attacking, and felt the world grow clearer for a moment in the small spike of adrenaline that popped off. A part of him relished the idea; of rolling into his attacker's guard and grabbing his wrist and breaking it, of bringing his foot down on the figment's knee and destroying his kneecap, sending the imaginary opponent to the ground. Of crushing the would-be aggressor's hand beneath his shoe and kicking him in the mouth and then leaving him as someone else's problem.
And then Keiichi realized where his thoughts were leading him and abandoned them, leaving them to die on the imagined streets of his subconscious as he realized that the likelihood of that happening were slim, and would only increase if he sought them out. You promised Belldandy you'd come home, remember. For a second it sounded like Urd, and for a second longer it sounded like Deb. You promised yourself that you wouldn't go out looking for trouble. Don't add to the pain that has already been had, Keiichi. He grimaced, and felt ashamed.
There is no peace to be found in violence, he thought, and for a moment smiled. Those were Takano's words, drilled into his head since Megs and himself had first started Aikido. She'd said something similar when he'd announced his decision to enlist in the Navy.
"Words to live by, if I were to judge."
Keiichi's head snapped up and the man looked around, yet no one addressed him and even less spared him a passing glance. A couple passed him by, arm-in-arm and laughing, and the retreating form of a blonde woman in a suit passed a group of five that looked well on their way to getting plastered. His eyes widened as they followed the blonde, and as she rounded a corner, the SEAL found he recognized her.
"Mother… fucker." The woman who'd knocked Belldandy out.
It was the demon who'd given him Hagall's ear.
He was off and after her before he could put his thoughts into play, tearing through the group of five who yelled and swore at him as he rounded the corner. The woman was still a good ways ahead of him and either ignored him or did not see him, entering one building that was further down the block. He chased after her, his heart in his throat and filled with the sudden urgency to speak with the woman, the demon, to- to- he didn't know what, but he would be damned if he wasn't going to do it. He sprinted down the sidewalk with all his might, encroaching on a pair of men walking the same direction as him who at last second split to allow him to pass. He never caught their faces nor would have remembered them if he had, and instead raced to the storefront he'd seen the woman vanish inside of.
It appeared to be a bar of some sort, a wooden plaque on the shuttered windows reading, NECTAR OF THE DOGS in large, gothic script. The paint was beginning to curl at the edge of the letter 'G', turning it into a 'C' that read DOCS. The door was wooden, and might have been a vibrant, eye-sore green before age and time had left it stripped and faded. There was a sign on the door; another plaque: Must Be Old As Dirt To Enter, it read.
Keiichi saw this all in the span of five seconds before pulling open the door to the bar and coming face-to-face with the largest man Keiichi had ever seen before. The stranger had to have been at least eight feet tall, if Keiichi were to guess, with a hard face chiseled from granite and arms that would have left Mac weeping with envy. The line of his shoulders alone looked too wide to walk through the door without angling himself to slip through, and the man's height alone near-scraped the ceiling of the bar. He wore a pair of jeans that clung to his legs and a bright, eye-sore yellow shirt with the letters N.O.D stenciled across his chest.
The man looked down at Keiichi, unamused.
Keiichi, frankly, wondered if the man could even speak or if his entire face was literally made of stone.
"I'm here for a drink," Keiichi tried.
"Drink somewhere else." The man's voice was like teeth grinding on bone, and the sound left a strange but sharp cramp of fear in Keiichi's gut. "We don't serve your kind here."
"Don't serve my-" Keiichi's mouth fell slack, and he stared flabbergasted at the man, shocked by the casual denial of service. While he was no stranger to racism, having experienced it a handful of times both growing up and in the Navy, never had it been so extreme as to actually deny him entrance to another place before. "What do you mean you don't serve 'my kind'?" he demanded, insulted on a personal level that exceeded the previous fear in his belly in favor of self-righteous anger. "Are you fucking serious? In this-in this day and age?" he snapped, and the man, eight-feet of muscle and granite and terror, blinked as though surprised by this exclamation. "What, is it because I'm Japanese?" he snarled. "You got a thing against me 'cause I'm fucking Asian or something? In fucking Cali?!" The man before him twitched, a small, uncomfortable frown worming its way across his face. "The fuck? The owner of this dump some fuckhead ol' piece a' shit geezer running around screaming about Pearl Harbor or something? Or is it something else?" The large man's discomfort appeared to grow. "What exactly do you mean when you utter the fucking phrase 'your kind'? Huh?"
"I believe Wulf is saying you're a bit too young for this establishment." A voice, soft, gentle and masculine, rose up behind him. "I doubt that it has anything to do with any kind of racial context." Keiichi looked back over his shoulder, finding a pair of men who could have been in their early twenties to late seventies at his back. The man who'd spoken stared at Keiichi from behind a pair of copper rimmed glasses. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement, and the man next to him, adorned in a pair of shaded black glasses, appeared to be stifling his laughter. "I will vouch for him, Wulf," the stranger continued. "We shall ensure he causes no trouble."
The bouncer, Wulf, looked at the two men, unconvinced. "Indra don't want trouble," he warned.
"And there won't be," Copper Rims replied. "You have the word of a scholar, and what good is a scholar if not his word to go by?"
Wulf grunted, yet stepped out of the doorway to allow Keiichi and the two men entrance. He and the two men at his back entered, and Keiichi felt the hair along the nape of his neck rise as he passed the threshold. He glanced up at the bouncer one more time as he passed the large man, and thought, you're not human.
"Oh, I'm human all right," Wulf said, staring down at him with his large, slab-like arms crossed over his chest. "But they don't make humans like they used to. You ain't your ancestors, Kid, and you best remember that with the company you keep."
Keiichi jumped, and turned to face the man more fully, his mouth dropping open yet finding himself rendered mute in his shock. Copper Rims slapped a dark hand onto his shoulder. "Now now, leave Wulf be. You've upset him with your accusations, and can you really blame the poor man? Come and have a drink with us at the bar." The hand was heavy like iron, and though Keiichi would have protested he found himself strangely meek in these unfamiliar surroundings, and instead allowed himself to be guided to the bar of lacquered redwood. The establishment was cozy but not cramped, despite its large bouncer. A bar lined the western-most wall, and was embellished with intricate bronze patterns and designs fashioned after flowers. The Northernmost wall provided a corner for staff to leave the bar as well as bathrooms, along with a long row of booths with plush, worn, black leather seats. A billiards table occupied the center of the room, and towards the south end near the door were a couple of small tables and an old juke box. Billy Joel was singing 'Piano Man' from its speakers, and though the box looked antique, the quality was crisp and clear to the point where the singer may as well have been performing live.
The bar seemed to be close to empty at the moment outside of Keiichi, his new friends, and the blonde woman, who sat at a booth in the far corner of the room. Her back was turned to him. The Bouncer, Wulf, took a seat at the table directly across from her. The man's dark eyes followed Keiichi's every move, as if daring the man to approach them, but Copper Rims was having none of it. He escorted Keiichi to the bar and took a seat at one of the black leather stools. Shades, whom Keiichi suspected might be hard of sight, sat on the other side of him. "Have a seat." The man gestured to the unoccupied stool on his right, and with some reluctance, Keiichi took it.
"The usual for the dog and myself," Copper Rims called out. "Mead for the Boy."
"I'll have a beer, actually," Keiichi said without thought. "And I'm not a boy."
"Of course you're not," cackled Copper Rims. "You're a SEAL."
"The beer we serve here is too strong for the likes of you." The bartender was another large and imposing man, with skin that seemed almost to glow like liquid amber in the light of the bar. "Listen to your elders or scram. You working on the bird's charity, and it is unwise to dismiss such a blessing." A pair of large vajra dangled from his ears, bronze and elaborately decorated as his lone bit of jewelry. He turned away, and to Keiichi it almost appeared as if small bolts of lightning were dancing along his back. Keiichi had to look at the man a second time to see if that was indeed the case, yet his second glance showed nothing remarkable, and Keiichi chalked it up to stress.
He looked back to Copper Rims, who was speaking to Shades. "Who are you guys?" he asked.
"Who indeed?" the man asked, and reached into the pocket of his black slacks. "No one of consequence, if that is what concerns you." He withdrew an elaborate card case inscribed with a long and slender white ibis and opened it, withdrawing a card. "My card." He offered it to Keiichi, who took it with no small amount of hesitation before looking down and reading the print.
"Jackal and Ibis Mortuary Service," Keiichi read. A picture of a black jackal chasing a white ibis was printed in the background. "The dead keep kicking and we keep digging."
"You'd be amazed at what a bit of morbid humor does for business." The man explained.
Below the title were a pair of names: Mr. Taliah Ibis and Abd al Rashid Jaq'al. Keiichi looked back at Copper Rims. "Which one are you?"
"Which do you think?" Copper Rims asked.
Keiichi stared at the man in consideration for a long moment, barely noticing the bar keeper slamming a glass mug of golden liquid down in front of him, followed by two more bottles of alcohol of a darker cast down beside the two strangers. He observed the man, dressed like his associate in a black suit, the only difference being his white tie in comparison to the black tie of his friend. The man was tall and lanky, his features not quite Arab or Indian but something closer to African. He wore a proud beak of a nose that bent much like a raptor's beak, and wore high cheekbones that gave him an elegant, if somewhat delicate, look to him. His hair was cut short and close to the scalp, where it curled in thick, tight ringlets.
His companion was of a similar elegance, if made somehow darker for reasons Keiichi could not quite explain. It was almost as if he was bathed in a constant shadow, one somehow made whole and real by the black-painted shades he wore to cover his eyes. His nose wasn't quite as prominent a beak as his friend's, and he appeared less delicate in stature compared to his companion. Still, there was something almost peaceful about his nature, and the man turned to Keiichi, as if sensing his gaze, and smiled. It was a kind smile. A happy smile, like that of a friendly dog looking at him from the far side of his owner.
Despite himself, Keiichi found himself smiling back at the man, cheered by his good nature despite the stranger having yet to say a word to him. The man raised his bottle in toast, then took a long chug of his drink.
Keiichi looked back at the stranger. "Well... If I had to guess, I'd say you were Mr. Ibis and your friend was Mr. Jackal."
"Jaq'al," corrected Copper Rims. "And a good guess. Most people don't like to make assumptions based on what they see." He lifted his own bottle in toast, and Keiichi grabbed his own mug. "A pleasure to meet you. I am Taliah Ibis. My quiet friend is Abd al Rashid Jaq'al. Forgive him his silence, if you will. He prefers to speak to the dead over the living."
"Keiichi Morisato," Keiichi replied in turn, and as he took a sip of his drink wondered why he'd even bothered with the introduction. Mr. Ibis, he was certain, already knew his name. "What is this place?" The mead in his glass was overly sweet, so much to that Keiichi wondered if he was indeed drinking alcohol and not straight honey. Then his face twisted into a grimace as a burning fire crawled its way back up his throat, causing Keiichi to look at his drink appraisingly.
"Just a bar that caters to a specific crowd," Mr. Ibis replied. "Sometimes it is a place of celebration, sometimes it is a place of woes, and sometimes it is a place of business. Always it is neutral ground, however, where those like myself and your blonde friend over there may come for a drink without fear of transgression."
"Just not a place for 'my kind', is that it?" Keiichi looked over his shoulder back towards the woman in question, whose head was bowed as if brooding or reading. At the table across from her, Wulf scowled at him, and then rose up towards the door on the east side of the bar. Keiichi turned back to his companion, and missed the blonde peeking back over at him.
Mr. Jaq'al didn't though. He smiled at her and tipped his drink her way.
The woman, taken aback, raised her own glass before turning away once more.
Mr. Jaq'al sighed dreamily.
"So if this ain't a place for 'my kind', how did I find it to begin with?" Keiichi took another sip of his drink, this time prepared for the returning fire as a new patron moved to the bar, this one an elderly Japanese man who peered over at Keiichi in curiosity before calling for 'Eight-Brew Sake' from the Barkeeper. Had Keiichi not been distracted in his own conversation and drinking already, he might have noted that the request had been in Japanese, and that despite this Indra still managed to deliver the requested sake and plate to the man in question.
"Sometimes when a man wants to lose himself utterly, it is possible for him to touch those lands not meant for him," Mr. Ibis explained. "It is rare, but it does happen. A man wanders and wanders and wanders looking for something he cannot put a name to, and suddenly finds his surroundings strange and alien. A woman walks into a forest and is lost in her thoughts, and walks off the beaten trail to forge her own way and is never seen again. A child is chased by his bullies and wants nothing more than to lose them, and in doing so finds himself lost in turn." The man shrugged. "It used to be more common than it is now, what with smart phones and GPS and Google maps, but... for those who wish it hardest, it may still happen."
"So you're telling me this bar could appear in the middle of the woods like some old witch's hut?" Keiichi asked. "Or that some kid might just wander into a bar asking for directions?"
"Not necessarily," Mr. Ibis replied. "The face changes with its environment to best suit the needs of the occupants, you see. Perhaps not a bar but a bookstore for a youth. Perhaps not a bookstore but a cottage for the woman. Perhaps not a cottage but a bar for the man." He took a sip of his drink. "It wears the face most at home with the world around it and is what is most agreeable to the observer, with only our large and intimidating Beowulf to guard the way."
"Yeah, I bet he scares the piss out of kids," Keiichi grumbled.
"Not necessarily," Mr. Ibis replied cheerfully. "For those who are lost, he helps them on their way. For those who aren't," and here he looked Keiichi straight in the eye, "he chases them away."
Keiichi looked away without a word.
"Tell me, what had you thought to accomplish by coming here?" Mr. Ibis continued. "You've already had your fill of both demons and gods. Did you believe to find some respite by confronting the woman in the corner? Answers to questions you yourself don't even fully comprehend? Or were you perhaps merely looking for an outlet to blame in the tragedy that has befallen you? Because I can provide you all those answers right now, and I will inform you that confronting that lone woman in the corner will lead to nothing but pain and heartache and possibly even your death. You are not the only one who lost something in these past two days."
"The fuck does that mean?" Keiichi's voice came out a low, quarrelsome growl. Mr. Jaq'al straightened at once, peering over his companion to look at Keiichi in concern. The man realized it was concern for Keiichi himself and much less for his friend. The man shook his head, as if trying to dissuade Keiichi from pursuing any unwise thoughts, and the open concern on the man's face brought to mind Belldandy's own worried face.
Keiichi relented. "Sorry."
Mr. Ibis waved it off, unconcerned. He took another sip of his drink before asking, "Had it ever occurred to you that perhaps that woman over there might be mourning a loss too?"
"She's a demon," Keiichi replied without thought, and missed how the elderly Japanese man two seats down from him shot him a glare.
"Does that make her any less a person?" Mr. Ibis countered, and here Keiichi fell silent, staring at the man in shock. The idea that a demon- any demon, not just the one at his back- might be capable of mourning like a man or a god or a... person had never occurred to him, and was in some ways as fascinating an idea as it was terrible. It was an alien thought that a demon, a creature of malice and malevolence, might hold some level of humility as to actually grieve for their own, seemed befuddling and so far removed from the depths of his imagination that Keiichi couldn't picture it. A hand moved to his watch, and for a moment he remembered Hagall, pale and ashen, as Keiichi and the others had crashed upon her den. Hagall, who had gone from an outstanding and terrifying enemy to a pallid woman who knew her time was borrowed, and was afraid. Hagall who, beneath her disdain, had shown signs of honest, human fear, like that of any other mortal, or perhaps, like that of any other god.
For a long time Keiichi was silent, and again he peered back at the woman behind him. That was all she was, he was beginning to realize; behind the arrogance, behind the power, behind the demon, was nothing but a woman, one who'd placed herself in as far of an out-of-the way corner as possible, like a person who wanted to be left alone after hearing bad news from home.
All of a sudden she seemed very relatable to Keiichi.
He hated that.
"Who did she lose?" The man turned back to Mr. Ibis, who was observing him with calculating black eyes.
"You already know the answer to that," Mr. Ibis replied, and of course he did. Hadn't he heard Debra herself say that the woman had been 'Urd's backup'?
"Christ," Keiichi breathed, and took a long gulp of his drink, which seemed at once bottomless and infinite; if he wanted to, in that moment, he could have drank and drank and drank for days without it ever going empty, and in that instant to Keiichi that seemed like an idea worth pursuing. To drink himself to death with a never-empty mug, which seemed like a wisdom more capable of digestion then what currently occupied his mind: that Urd had befriended a demon- one close enough to mourn her passing- and that she, in her final moments, had called upon that demon's aid against Hagall.
It was the fire in his throat that stopped him from pursuing that goal, and the man slammed his mug on the counter, coughing harshly as the world began to swim around him.
"Indra, could I have some water for my friend here? Thank you." Mr. Ibis's voice seemed both close and far away, fading in and out of range like a wavering siren hailing some kind of on-base attack. The world around Keiichi began to spin dizzyingly, and when Indra- no longer a man but a bronze statue brought to life, muscles rippling across his four arms and his brow alight with a bright halo of power- placed a glass of water in front of him, Keiichi grabbed it and chugged it with heart.
The water was a frigid contrast to the fire brought on by the mead, and Keiichi could feel the water course its way down his throat and into the pit of his stomach, the iciness travelling up the back of his throat and into his head like an ice pick. "Fucking shit!" he swore, and abandoned his glass in favor of gripping the counter's edge, fighting through the brain freeze as two seats down from him, a horse-headed oni watched with placid brown eyes.
On his other side, the ibis watched on with its dark eyes. "Take a moment," it said in Mr. Ibis's voice. "It will do you no good to harm yourself." Beside the Ibis, a large black hound, its white eyes so bright as to be blind, watched him with open concern.
Keiichi closed his eyes as the world slowed its nauseating spin and the pain in his skull began to subside. He only opened them after the pain left him entirely. "Are you well?" Mr. Ibis, not a bird but a man, was watching him, with his friend leaning over the bar to look at him in concern from behind his shades. Keiichi grimaced and looked to his right, and found that the oni had vanished in place of an elderly man as well. He looked over his shoulder back towards the woman, and found that she too remained unchanged, and in fact had been joined by another in the time since he'd last glanced at her.
She was a tall, brown woman, with deep blue eyes that were a shocking contrast against her skin and long black hair held up in a messy bun. She held a stunningly exotic beauty to her, especially in her red dress, though admittedly Keiichi was uncertain if that was her own beauty or his opinion of her magnified by his own inebriation. He felt a strange pang in his heart looking at her. I bet if Urd was a normal human she'd look a lot like that, he thought to himself, and grimaced. Maybe she was mourning too. Maybe something in those slumped shoulders and baggy eyes told a story like his; of love stolen by death (though was it not death sitting with a pair of shades on the other side of a bird?) and mourning and brooding on their abrupt departure.
The world was starting to spin again.
He turned just as the blue-eyed woman looked his way.
Keiichi took another sip of water and closed his eyes, rubbing his brow as he waited for the spell to pass. When he opened them again, the world had reoriented itself, though there seemed to be a notable lag in any of Indra's actions as he passed glasses out to patrons across the bar. "What's in this stuff?" he slurred, and drew his own mug back towards himself, staring into the glass as if it held the answers to the universe itself. Part of him was starting to think it might.
Mr. Ibis didn't answer him, and a brief glance at him explained why. The bird—or the man; he didn't seem capable of settling on one form—was staring in rapt attention at the woman who'd previously joined the blonde in the corner. She was approaching them now, and for a brief instant, a moment so short that Keiichi wasn't convinced it was real, the black hair looked white, the blue eyes looked violet, and the woman vanished as Urd took her place.
"Mister Ibis." The woman's voice was deep and rich. Too deep to be Urd's.
That's because Urd's dead, Bucko, he thought to himself, and felt his heart wrench. It's just her ghost chasing you around. Better be careful, or the gods might take vengeance on you for ditching her like a coward.
He grimaced and bowed his head, shading his eyes with a hand that massaged his brows as he hailed the barkeeper with his other. Deb and Urd and Lind. All gone. Straight down the gutter with no hopes of coming back and leaving him to feel their ghosts. Glances out of the corner of an eye of people who shouldn't be there. Voices that would just border on the edge of familiar. Scents that would inevitably send him flying back into the past, lost in memories of what was and what now will never be again, and god damn it there'd be no more Deb to scare the shit out of him at family events anymore and no more Urd giving stupid names to furniture and watching Bell and no more Lind to play as mediator when the shit really, really hit the fan and...
And..
And Indra walked over to him.
"Can I get two bottles of beer, please?"
Indra grunted. "You already have your drink."
"It's not for me."
A rumble like distant thunder rose from the depths of Indra's chest, but Keiichi didn't bother to look up at the barkeeper's expression. He sensed more than saw Indra depart, and when he dropped the hand massaging his brows and looked up he found the large figure of a man popping the top off two beers with two large, calloused thumbs before placing them before Keiichi. Keiichi stared at them, somewhat surprised that the barkeeper had granted his request, before becoming so overwhelmed with gratitude at the simple grace that he felt he might break down weeping right then and there. Guess the drink is harder than I thought. He scrubbed stubbornly at his eyes, clamping a tight lid on his emotions before they could get the run around him, and then patted his pockets. There was no pen as he'd hoped, but as if by magic a simple Bic pen rolled across the bar before stopping as it tapped against his glass. The SEAL glanced at Mr. Ibis, yet the man paid him no mind, despite the pen having originated in the man's direction.
He knows, Keiichi thought. He gets it. Like Lind got it. Maybe even like Bell got it. He picked up the pen and almost dropped it with his clumsy grip, then reaffirmed it to ensure he didn't lose it. Grabbing the two napkins that had been placed with the beers, he drew them close, then stared down at them as the two white slips seemed to double and spin before him. He blinked and willed them to be stationary, but doubted they'd follow his will regardless of what he attempted.
The man rubbed a temple, uncertain of what to do now that he had the napkins in front of him. He'd known Urd for ten years, and though he'd been close to her even now it was hard to say he'd known her. Lind less so- the Valkyrie was still in some ways a stranger to him, but her aid had been invaluable whenever the woman had appeared, and... she'd been like him. Military. There was a connection there, no matter how small.
Still... they'd deserved more. Neither of them should have died. Not here, not in California or the States or maybe even on Earth, far away from whatever magical place they called home. Sighing, he grabbed the first napkin and scribbled something down on it, then looked at it with a worried glance and wondered if anyone else would be able to read his drunken scrawl. Hopefully someone would, or else recognize the purpose of the napkin, and the man slid the napkin and the beer off to the empty seat beside him, before repeating the process with the second glass and sliding it over one seat further still. The old man on the corner seat watched him with a solemn gaze. As Keiichi returned to his seat, the man leaned over to peek at what was written on the napkin closest to him, and with a deep frown, the elder reached into his pocket and placed two pennies on first one napkin, then the other.
Keiichi didn't notice.
"Lugal Ninna'gulla," said Mr. Ibis, and to Keiichi it looked almost as if the feathers of the bird raised as if startled. "A pleasure, as always."
"Spare me the charm, Bin Chicken." Lugal, a strange name even to Keiichi's traveled ears, flashed her teeth in a smile that looked closer to a snarl. "I fear I am in no mood for our games this night."
"Understandable." Mr. Ibis remained amiable. "Would you like a seat? My companion seems to have vacated it for the moment." Indeed, Mr. Jaq'al had vanished, though a quick look back to the blonde showed the man easing into the booth previously occupied by Lugal. The blonde in front of him sat rigid and alert, her shoulders stiff, and Mr. Jaq'al smiled.
God's speed, Man, Keiichi thought, then realized he was projecting such a thought to either a god or a demon (who could really tell in these days?) and laughed uproariously. "God speed. Better than light speed, it's godspeed! Get you from here to Timbuktu to the arms of the girl who's gonna slap you in the blink of an eye!"
Several seats down the old oni man snorted, and Keiichi raised in mug in a salute. The old man raised his small sake glass in turn, returning a silly grin that took centuries off his face, and together the two drank their fill. If Keiichi was aware of the cool regard with which Lugal observed him, he ignored it, or else was too far lost to his own drunkenness to acknowledge it.
Next to Keiichi, Mr. Ibis continued his conversation with Lugal, who made the strange request for salt water and then declined to drink it after Indra delivered the request with a lowered brow. Even Mr. Ibis seemed at a loss over the reasons behind the drink, before his eyes lit up and he dug into the front pocket of his slacks. He withdrew a small notepad, flipped it open, and then skimmed through pages filled with miniscule scrawl with practiced ease before stopping on one particular page. From there, he paused, his eyes speeding through the chicken scratch as his lips formed into an 'o'. He nodded once, now with understanding, closed the book and pocketed it before returning his attention to Lugal. "Forgive me, I have not seen that action in person before."
The woman who'd taken over Mr. Jaq'al's seat shrugged but offered no comment or explanation to her action. "Perhaps it will prove unnecessary after our business here is complete," she said instead. "If nothing else, it will keep your hound away."
"He's not my hound," Mr. Ibis said with some annoyance. "He's my friend, not my pet."
"I never said anything about a pet," Lugal said with some amusement. "Ah, but such jests are unfitting for this mood." She lapsed into silence, staring down into her small glass of saltwater, and then looked over at Mr. Ibis. "Will you speak, Record Keeper?"
"Only if I am certain the terms of our arrangement have been honored," replied Mr. Ibis.
"Oh?" Lugal raised a brow. "Am I to believe that the Great Recorder of all Life is uncertain of an arrangement he himself managed? I thought you knew the actions of everyone and everything, regardless of their affinity or status in life or death."
Mr. Ibis pursed his lips into a tight, light scar across his face. "Be that as it may... even my eyes may be deceived by those of as strong a will as yourself, Lugal."
"Such praise, Record Keeper."
"If that is how you wish to perceive it."
"Hn." Lugal's smile was wan. Her voice dropped. "My associate has in her possession three seals containing the discussed individuals." She said. "I assume that is why your own companion left your company for hers? So that he might retrieve them from her?"
Mr. Ibis grimaced. "He should be, if he has not done so already."
While not intentionally listening in on the conversation next to him, Keiichi's attention was still drawn to the corner booth where the blonde sat. Even through his drunkenness, or maybe because of it, he could tell Mr. Jaq'al's intentions were not one hundred percent honorable. And in spite of her earlier melancholy, the blonde seemed… somewhat receptive. He smirked, but kept his silence. As drunk as he was, he could still tell that drawing attention to them would not fit the current mood.
Lugal breathed deep. "Then you will speak?" There was an edge to her voice. A certain... expectancy to her tone that took out the question and left it as a statement. Not asking, but telling; you will speak or you will suffer, and hot damned if Mr. Ibis didn't look close to keeling over himself in that moment.
The man nodded, perhaps a bit too fast, muttering under his breath, "Three hostages all for a story. People might think you mad, Lugal."
"Madness comes with a long life," Lugal replied. "Enough stalling. I would hear your words before I lose my dwindling patience."
"Please attempt to hold it," Mr. Ibis requested.
Lugal pursed her lips in a tight frown, her eyes narrowing as she stared first at Mr. Ibis, then at Keiichi. Her eyes remained on the SEAL for a long time before looking back at Mr. Ibis. "Speak."
"She has fallen, but is not defeated," Mr. Ibis said. "You have gathered your reports from your pet Wilder and her investigators? From your spies and from your emissaries? There is truth to some of it but not all. Though she was struck down and injured, she yet lives, and has been removed from the land that had inflicted such wounds."
"Go on," Lugal urged. "You say nothing I don't know already. Where is she now? What is her status?"
"Her book has not closed yet," Mr. Ibis continued. "Though this time it was close. That hound's final bite was cruel, but with time and care she will recover. There will be a scar... but then, when has such trauma left it victim unscathed?"
"Where is she though." Lugal leaned in close, her expression deepening more and more into a scowl.
"Someplace you and your emissaries will be hard-pressed to reach," Mr. Ibis revealed. "For its land is as harsh and cruel as your own and its people hostile to those who hail from 'Outside'. They needed to return the White Bear on the Icy Tundra to its home, you see. So that it might pass in peace, for its kind is of the sort that bring curses when their deaths aren't followed by proper ceremony, and the curse born by its spirit is a long and cruel one that would span the test of time." Something had changed in Mr. Ibis. His voice had grown monotone, his eyes were half-lidded, and the pupils within were large and expansive; a pair of miniscule black holes that seemed to absorb the light around them. The man continued speaking, still lost in his trance. "Yet the Writhing Serpent, injured though she is, will not allow the White Bear to pass. No... not her... for there is a debt between the two of them that must be paid." The fingers on the man's right hand began to twitch, as if attempting to grab something- a piece of paper, perhaps, or a pen or pencil.
"Beware the red aurora, little thunder-serpent," Mr. Ibis mumbled, and his voice was a soft coo like that of a bird's. "It is kind but it does not understand. That makes it dangerous. The White Bear walks the road of warriors who've passed, but is now followed by the red aurora of her homeland. It does not understand. It does not understand. It does not understand. I do not understand. I do not understand. I do not understand-" Without warning the man lunged at Lugal, his left hand grabbing the woman by her right wrist as he pulled her close with a strength not normally present in his lithe frame, his right hand still attempting to scrawl words into the bar's countertop. "Vili vowed violent vengeance very vehemently." He mumbled, looking not so much at Lugal as through her. "Vile valley violets varied the Vila's virtue. Veni vidi vici. Veni vidi vici..."
The man released her, still muttering and writing with a non-existent pen, and Lugal jerked back, staring at Mr. Ibis with a range of emotions stretching from the confounded to the enraged. Indra took the moment to intervene before things got out of hand. "Snap out of it, you quack." He slammed two meaty hands on the table, and both Mr. Ibis and Keiichi jumped at the noise of the impact. "You keep that up and I'm throwing you and your lot out. There's been enough trouble in town already on both sides of the fence, and I ain't having any of that shit in my bar." He huffed in irritation, and Mr. Ibis blinked owlishly up at him from behind his glasses, the self-induced trance broken.
Keiichi looked at Mr. Ibis, watching the man blink, remove his glasses, and rub his eyes. Later, when Keiichi was back in his parents' home trying to recall what he'd done to himself that had earned him the gross hangover that awaited him, that moment would be one of the few things Keiichi would recall clearly: That of Mr. Ibis rubbing his eyes as if they pained him, and instead seeming almost to rub off some kind of make-up instead, revealing small, white feathers beneath the skin. "Forgive me, Indra," Mr. Ibis murmured. "I let myself go. It will not happen again."
"See that it doesn't." Indra's voice rang with a hollow din, and as the world again began to swim at a nauseating pace Keiichi moaned and buried his face in his arms, feeling more sick than drunk. Perhaps he passed out, or at the very least, fell asleep, for his dreams were strange and surreal. He dreamt of the old man next to him- Mezu, as he introduced himself, and the two shared stories. He, a Navy SEAL currently serving in the American military, and Mezu, whom he learned was actually a resident of Yomi before vacationing in Nippon and joining the country's military after Japan allied with Germany in World Word II. "Not Niflheim, mind you," the old man had told him. "We're closer aligned with that mutt in the corner than the demon he's making puppy eyes at." He remembered asking what Niflheim was, but couldn't remember what Mezu's answer was. "Tell me some stories, SEAL. I've grown fond of the American military since my years as a pilot." His eyes, watery-brown horse eyes even when guised as a human, had danced with laughter, and at his request, Keiichi spoke. He spoke of the good and he spoke of the bad, of the hot deserts and the humid tropics. Of the Middle East and of Africa and of Europe and of the many, many areas in the Pacific. Sometimes, after a long bout, Old Mezu, as he liked to be called, would let him drink and catch his breath while he shared a story in turn, and Keiichi would listen in avid wonder as his mind took a trip to the past as a kamikaze pilot, or deep into the earth where Yomi dwelt and to the many pedestrians that passed through the gates to the Underworld.
For some reason, those stories brought Keiichi some comfort. The idea that Deb at the very least, might yet exist if not in body than at least in spirit, set his mind at ease.
At some point he thought he'd asked Mr. Ibis about it, only Keiichi kept getting his name wrong; Tot or Thot or Toth kept coming from his mouth whenever he spoke to the man. Mr. Ibis never seemed to mind, however, and his words had been quite kind, though in the end Keiichi was unable to remember the conversations exchanged. He thought it was of the afterlife though, because Keiichi remembered after that conversation feeling a lot less sad and a bit more reassured of Deb's passing.
He remembered trying to ask about Urd though, and being refused by Thoth-no, Mr. Ibis-and instead gaining the attention of Urd's ghost.
She'd been watching him from the other side of Tho-Mr. Ibis, her hair done up in a messy, half-done bun, dressed in a red dress that flowed to the tops of her knees like freshly-spilt blood. Her eyes followed his every action with the intense scrutiny, Keiichi figured, reserved only by those dead souls still in contempt of the living. He knew he spoke with her, though he couldn't remember if she'd kept her silence or spoken back, and at one point he even thought he'd apologized to her. It was, in fact, the last thing he remembered consciously doing that night.
How he'd later gotten home was a mystery to Keiichi. He woke up with a mortuary service card in his hand and a hangover the size of Texas beating on his brain.
"Some ladies dropped you off," Megumi told him later. "You were drunk as a skunk, Kei. Like... black-out drunk. I don't think they took advantage of you though... one of 'em looked like she couldn't stand you and the other was very... professional." She paused, and then as an afterthought said, "I think they were a couple."
Megumi had been the one to retrieve him, having been up early in the morning talking to her husband with the rest of the house asleep. She also, (though this was Keiichi's private thought) had been up to make sure Keiichi came home. She gave him a glass of water and some aspirin now, which he accepted with a relief he couldn't display in his current state of pain.
"What's that in your hand?"
An ear, Keiichi thought, and then looked down at the card he was still holding before offering it to Megumi.
She took it before reading the phrase printed on its surface out loud. Keiichi wished she'd read it silently. "Jackal and Ibis Mortuary Service. The dead keep kicking and we keep digging." She looked up at Keiichi. "Is this what you were doing last night?"
Of course not. He'd swapped stories with one of Yomi's underworld oni guardians and watched an Egyptian death god hit on a demon. "Yes," Keiichi replied. It was an easier story than explaining the Bar at the End of Nowhere.
Megumi frowned before passing the card back to Keiichi. "Shit, Kei... I'd drink too." She sighed, solemn. "At least this saves us some time, now that we've got a mortuary service..." The unspoken question hung in the air.
"I'll speak with Joshua about times and dates," Keiichi answered the question. His mouth still felt dry, and his voice was hoarse. "See what time would be good for him and the rest of Deb's family." He drank the rest of his water and looked back down at the card. The jackal chasing the ibis looked back at him, and in his mind's eye he saw it watching him, waiting to see what he would do. "I'll call later on," he continued, "I'll figure it out."
Megumi stared at him in concern. "We can help too," she reminded. "Deb was family. We all want to see her off properly. Just tell us what you need us to do."
"I will," Keiichi said. But his thoughts were elsewhere, less on Megumi and more on the two men he'd met last night.
"Why fear death, why mourn the dead? In that they are gone?" asked Mr. Ibis, staring inquisitively at him from behind his copper lenses. "No matter; death is just a change in state for the soul stored in the vessel as it continues its journey. Would you mourn a man who leaves this country to live in another, where when next you would meet him he may appear to you as a changed and different man? Then would you love him or hate him? And does it matter? For he has returned to you, though many years have passed, or you have returned to him after many long years. Either way, your experiences will have left you both changed, and in the end, you are reunited, is that not true? So why fear death, why mourn the dead? It is not the end. Far from it."
"Far, far from it."
XXX
"Debra was a wonderful daughter. Kind, tenacious, determined, and with a will like iron. She was a lot like her mother in that regard. I stand before you now to say goodbye to my only daughter, and I hope she may join her mother peacefully in death."
A week had passed since Debra's death.
A lot had happened in that time.
Keiichi had called Joshua, Debra' father, to schedule the funeral service. It had been a draining process for both the Morisato family and the Johansson family. The mortician running the event had been swift with his questions and even faster to acquire the necessary resources for the event. Debra would be buried in a local San Francisco cemetery near her mother on Joshua's request. The service would be a closed casket, there wouldn't be a hearse, and extensive calls were made to inform family, friends, and coworkers from Debra's police force of her passing. Though the Johansson family was small; consisting of Debra's father, an uncle, and a single grandparent, the chapel was still crowded. The police chief from Debra's precinct, as well as ten other officers and detectives had arrived in their uniforms to give their condolences, and Megumi's husband, Mark, had arrived with two other BACA members. The Martinez family closed their small restaurant in order to attend, and Sanchez flew in from Norfolk to not only attend the funeral, but to also pass on Keiichi's summer white service dress uniform for the funeral procession. The entire Morisato family attended, and Belldandy, a stranger in a strange crowd, sat beside Keiichi on the first pew.
The goddess sat in silence, uncomfortable in the formal black dress Aiko had helped her pick out several days before the funeral. She sat between Keiichi on her right, and Aiko on her left, and as Debra's father read his eulogy she tried not to squirm. It felt wrong sitting in the first row. It felt wrong sitting next to Keiichi when Debra's coffin was ten feet away from her. It felt wrong attending the funeral to begin with. In this moment, Belldandy was an intruder; a cuckoo amongst a flock of nesting warblers whose presence had yet gone unnoticed, but who would surely be found out in the long run and chased off in anger and in grief. Here she sat: Debra's replacement, a stranger who had known Debra for the span of three days before her death, and here she sat still next to Debra's ex-husband and sitting amongst the family who had seen Debra as one of their own. And not even in a place of life, either, where Belldandy might have some sense of belonging. This was a place of death, the antithesis to her own representation, a place she dared not touch nor had any purpose to be around.
She didn't want to be in the presence of death when she still mourned her sister.
Better she sit in the back, out of the eyes of those gathered. Better she sit in the back near those doors that led to life and all that was green, as was more fitting her station.
Best yet she sit in the pew and ignore such thoughts, for Keiichi and Aiko both were hurting just as she was, and needed her support.
Still though... as the eulogy ended and those people who wished to speak their piece on Debra's behalf lessened, when people were allowed to stand and rise and eat cake and drink wine and speak of Debra, Belldandy retreated. She gave Keiichi and Aiko and all the Morisato family privacy, and gave herself some respite, heading towards the front of the chapel's nave leading towards the foyer as soon as the Norn thought she could slip away unnoticed. The chapel doors were open to allow airflow on the hot summer day, and it brought with it the smell of grass and evergreens and freshly tilled soil; a scent she welcomed with a relieved breath.
The goddess stood in the foyer, pressed against a corner of the threshold as she closed her eyes and tried not to think of Urd, of home, of the empty room in North Carolina and the ghostly quiet that would accompany it. Her magic was still absent from her person, and though she'd tried and strained herself in the past seven days, Belldandy had been unsuccessful at summoning it. No magic meant no phone, and no phone meant no contact with Skuld; no way to validate the dream she'd had of Urd as reality or merely a bad nightmare.
It hurt. She felt as if she'd lost one of her major senses. As if, in losing her magic, Belldandy had somehow lost a piece of herself. She felt blind but could see, felt deaf but could hear, felt... dead, but... alive. It was a miserable sensation, and when combined with Urd's disappearance and possible demise it left her depressed. Lost. Lethargic.
The goddess sighed, gazing up at the design carved into the threshold with glassy eyes. Until her disappearance, Belldandy had never realized just how much she'd come to rely on Urd after her freedom from Aoshima. If Keiichi had been the sun that had given her a reason to live, then surely it was Urd who'd been the soil that had allowed her to grow; to learn of America and all it peculiarities and how to adapt to live like those who dwelt there. If a life with Keiichi had been what the Norn wanted, then it had been Urd who'd shown her what she'd needed to live it, and now that she was gone...
Now that Urd was gone...
How was she supposed to live with herself?
Please stop, Carrie. Holy Bell was a blessing. Even without her magic, it seemed the angel was still able to feed on the energies of her soul, and though Holy Bell could not manifest, her voice was still a strong anchor that had kept Belldandy from losing control of herself in the painful week since Hagall and Debra's death. Your brooding won't solve anything. There are gods here, remember? The mortician was one of them, and it may be possible that he can get you in contact with Skuld if you ask him. Find him.
Belldandy grimaced and closed her eyes, recognizing that her angel was right but finding it difficult to summon the energy necessary to move from her post. The soft and solemn murmur of the people in the chapel's heart was enough to lure her into a near-doze, and if not for the ambiguous slap of someone running past her, it was possible Belldandy would have fallen asleep right then and there. As it was, she opened her eyes, and found herself face-to-face with a ghost.
He was young, the ghost, a youth not even in his teens yet or perhaps having just reached them, dressed in a formal black suit that looked large and stuffy on his scrawny frame. The legs of his black slacks bunched up at his feet, where a pair of aged dress shoes were scarred with white scuff marks. His sleeves hung well past the palms of his hands and down to his fingers. The shoulders of the blazer he wore hung well past the top of his shoulders with the blazer's ends falling down to his butt. He stared up at Belldandy from behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, the nose piece rolled with duct tape, and all Belldandy could wonder was how Keiichi Morisato had come to stand before her as a child.
"Sorry, Ma'am. Didn't mean to startle you." The ghost spoke, and in that moment, seeing a jaw lined with braces, Belldandy recalled that the boy before her was no ghost but in fact Keiichi's younger brother, Keigo. The boy stared at her with some trepidation, looking like he wanted to say more but lacking the courage to ask her directly.
"Is something the matter?" Belldandy prompted.
The boy hesitated a moment longer before speaking. "You didn't see a dog around here, did you?" he asked. "I saw one when I was going to the bathroom. A huge one, like a Doberman pinscher, but bigger, and all black."
Belldandy stared at the boy with some surprise, startled out of her lethargy by the boy's description. "Why are you looking for a dog during a funeral?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by the description of one of the gods who had put together the small service for Debra.
The boy, Keigo, shrugged. "I wanted to pet it," he said, his tone so obvious as to imply he was insulted she would even wonder why the boy would seek out a dog. "And... I don't like it in there." He jerked his head back into the room filled with people. "It's sad in there. I can't stand it. Isn't that why you're out here too?"
"Yes," Belldandy replied without thought. "Yes, I... I suppose that is why I'm out here." For a long moment the goddess stared at the boy, and the boy stared back, blinking owlishly behind his glasses.
The silence between them grew long and awkward.
"Well..." Keigo began, "I... I gotta go find that dog. Um... have some... cake?" he suggested.
"No thank you," Belldandy replied. "Sugar plays havoc with my sanity."
"Oh." Keigo paused. "Too bad. If it makes you hyper, maybe it'd lighten up everyone in there."
"Maybe." Belldandy paused. "I don't think so though."
"I don't think so either." Keigo's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Good luck finding your dog."
"Thank-you, Ma'am."
The boy ran off, and Belldandy watched him leave before calling back to him, "Keigo!"
The boy jumped, then looked over his shoulders, his eyes wide. "Beware the red eyes of a black dog," Belldandy cautioned. "Or else we may put two people to rest on this day rather than one."
"Bargheist." Keigo called back, and smiled with a mouth full of metal and rubber bands. "Jennifer Thomas warned me about them when I told her I had to go to a funeral. She sits next to me in English. Her mom's a... pagan? Or a wiccan, one of the two. Don't worry, I'll run back here if it comes to that."
Without another word, the boy ran off, racing towards a corner and taking a wide berth around the person coming the opposite direction, where he disappeared out of sight. Belldandy wondered what the boy would do if he actually came across a Bargheist, or, more likely, Anubis, if the deity was wandering around in his more favored four-legged form. She'd heard stories that the god was benevolent despite his fearsome district of death, and entertained the idea that the god might yet appear as a dog before a child; perhaps in the hope of providing a comfort that was absent in the nave of the chapel. An absurd, precious idea perhaps, but one whose image brought a small smile to Belldandy's face; the first in what felt like ages.
The smile was quick to drop from her face when her eyes came to rest on the person Keigo had swerved around however.
"You." The goddess gritted her teeth. "Demon." The word came out in a fit of utter loathing, and Belldandy felt her chest constrict as the blonde woman in the black suit made her way towards her, pausing just long enough to observe the boy who'd raced past her before turning back to Belldandy. "How dare you come here."
The demon, whose name Belldandy still didn't know, observed her with nonchalant red eyes, unfazed by the Norn's vehemence. The goddess recognized her though. It was hard to forget the demon who'd knocked her out in the heat of battle and then had the nerve to possess Keiichi. "I'm here to pay my respects," the woman replied. "I could ask you the same, Norn."
Belldandy bristled, feeling insulted for reasons she couldn't define. "You're lying," she accused. "No demon would bother with a mortal woman. Debra Johansson was nothing to you."
The blonde narrowed her eyes and scowled. "You'd best watch what you say," she said. "Debra Johansson was a boon. I was in her debt, and she was taken from this plane of existence before I could repay her. And after these past several days, Norn... well, I am here off duty, and so I have a bit more freedom with my words so... that pisses me off." The woman sucked in a deep breath. "And I've got a lot of unrequited anger that I would love to burn off. So unless you want to cash a check your body can't handle right now, you'd best shut your mouth, Lukurra, and leave me in peace."
"No." Belldandy walked into the middle of the hallway, blocking the woman from going any further. "I will not simply allow you to walk into a place of mourning when there are so many innocent people about. Do you think me an ignorant fool?"
"Yes." The blonde interrupted her before Belldandy could get another word in. "You're an ignorant fool who forgets she has no magic and no other gods at her back, surrounded instead by blind mortals who know nothing of you or me." The woman's voice dropped, and she took a step towards Belldandy, who flinched but did not step aside, instead stubbornly holding her place in the middle of the hallway. "Are you so foolish as to risk causing a scene just to prevent me from signing a log book and paying my respects?"
"Where is your proof that you will not harm those within?" Belldandy's voice dropped to match the blonde's, and her gaze was challenging. "You are a demon. You are violent by nature. What is to say that if I allowed you to walk in that room, you would not call upon your magic and slaughter everyone in there?" She scowled at the woman. "I have had my fair share of experience with your people, and they have done little to endear themselves to me. You are all nothing but violent savages."
The woman's eyes flashed, and her lips peeled back in a snarl filled with such vicious intent that for a moment Belldandy was certain the demon would strike her down in that moment. From the corner of her eye the goddess watched the demon's right hand curl into a fist, and for a second saw a flash of red miasma engulf it before it was interrupted by the call of a strange bird.
The sound was loud and obnoxious. A great, long honk that made both goddess and demon jump as the two searched for the source. Outside, in plain sight of the church entrance was a large aspen and sitting in its branches was a medium-sized water bird. Its beak was long and elegant, with a slight curve, its plumage white but naked of feathers from the crown to the neck. It stared at the two of them with a pair of eyes as dark as its head, then honked again. First one black canine, then another wandered into view. One of them had red eyes. The other looked less like a dog and more like some kind of black coyote. Maybe even a wolf. Together, the two dogs sat beneath the aspen, beneath the ibis, panting, and giving both women a prominent display of the long row of white teeth that made up their jaws.
The message was clear.
Behave.
Unnerved by the sudden audience, Belldandy turned back to the demon, who stood rigid in observance of the creatures outside the chapel doors. She wore a dangerous expression, and one that Belldandy had thought she'd seen before. An expression of steely will attempting to cage a piece of herself that was closer to a rabid beast than a rational being. A look of control, lost and forgotten but for a moment only to come slamming back down like cement block on a trapdoor.
She'd seen that look on Urd before.
With it came memories. Painful ones from a childhood shared with a sister still at war with herself and not always able to defeat the beast that gnawed from within. Memories of fear, memories of anger, memories of relief and even pride in her sister as that control was mastered. When, just as now, that dark and desolate creature settled back in its cage and left behind a person rather than a demon.
The goddess winced at the memory, then tore her eyes away from the woman to look back at the ibis and the hounds. The trio continued to watch them in silence. The bargheist licked its nose anxiously. The jackal ceased panting, and to Belldandy seemed to watch the demon with keen interest. The Norn turned back to the demon, and found her calm and nonchalant once more, the anger that had been so quick to manifest once again under a tight lock and key.
Like Urd. Desperate to prove she was more than just a demon. Desperate to prove she wasn't a savage.
Belldandy took a deep breath. Surely the air is filled with sugar, for I fear I've lost my mind. "Walk with me."
The woman's head jerked towards Belldandy. "What?"
"Walk with me," Belldandy said. "Walk beside me into the nave," she clarified. "I will escort you inside."
"You just accused me of going on a murderous rampage." The blonde scowled.
"Yes." Belldandy replied without skipping a beat. "However I would also make the attempt at giving you the benefit of the doubt in the hopes that you might prove me wrong." If for no other reason than out of spite.
The demon's scowl did not fade, but as Belldandy assumed, she nodded, if with some reluctance. "Fine," she muttered.
Belldandy stepped to the side. The blonde walked past. Belldandy fell in step beside her. No one bothered them. No one approached them. The two women, strangers in a land of Midgard's mortals, were ignored, and in that moment, allowed a semblance of peace and privacy that might otherwise have not been afforded to them. The demon signed the guest book in a fancy cursive that reminded Belldandy of Urd, and it was only by that manner that the Norn learned the demon's name.
Mara.
Had Urd ever mentioned a Mara in their childhood growing up together? Belldandy thought she might have, for the name tickled a note of familiarity at the back of her memories, yet it was feather light and weightless; so dim as to be unreachable. She watched the blonde move from the guestbook to the closed coffin, where Mara stood at attention near its head. Belldandy moved to stand behind her.
"May the waters of life guide you to your next incarnation." Mara's right hand moved to her mouth, and out of curiosity Belldandy adjusted herself to better view the woman, watching as the demon brought her thumb to the tip of protruding canine and pressing the flesh against the tip. A pinprick of red welled up on her thumb, and without pause and indeed with a strange sort of subtle grace that spoke of ceremony, Mara drew her thumb towards the coffin and pressed it against the small wooden cross stylized into the center of the wood. "May you never thirst, and may your cups be forever filled with the Sweet Water. Let we who dwell in this incarnation drink a glass of the Salt Water in your name, so that you may never know its unending thirst. Zi Kia Kampa. Zi Anna Kampa."
Mara removed her thumb and stepped away from the coffin. The smear of red was so faint it was almost invisible against the wood grain. She looked back at Belldandy. "That's it." She licked her thumb, and Belldandy watched in morbid fascination as the wound ceased to bleed. "Let's go."
"Yes," Belldandy agreed, and as they entered, so too did they leave: unchallenged, unmolested, and ignored.
As the two entered they foyer once more, Belldandy peered at the demon before asking, "Did you know Urd well?"
Mara stopped mid-step but did not respond.
Belldandy grimaced and looked away. "…I see. Forget I spoke-"
"We were friends." The quality of Mara's already harsh voice had worsened, becoming lower, deeper, and coarser than before. "She was fond of you."
Belldandy bit her lip, and any further questions were lost as her throat locked. She opened her mouth as if to speak, yet no sound came forth as instead a wave of fresh, agonizing grief knotted her chest. The goddess swallowed, but it did little for the grief, and so instead she drew a hand to her eyes, covering them as next to her, Mara continued. "She searched to the ends of the Nine Realms for you when you vanished. Looked under every rock, searched the depths of the deepest seas. Crossed the most barren of deserts. She spoke with elves and dwarves and fae and giants. Spirits and monsters and jotun and demons. All for you. She spoke to me. First for information. Next for help. Finally, for vengeance that suited us both. I wanted Hagall in prison. She wanted Hagall to pay. I warned her of the weapon Hagall had acquired and she went anyway. I told her I would join her later, when I had Hagall under seal but..."
Here Mara stopped herself. "I have said too much."
Or perhaps not enough. Belldandy thought.
How long has she been fostering this guilt? Her thoughts were echoed by Holy Bell. Do demons even speak in grief to their peers? Or are we just the exception because we are not demons?
Belldandy didn't have the strength to ask.
Mara turned to face her more fully, and in that moment Belldandy saw what Keiichi saw several days before. And that was how much pain the woman appeared to be in. Though she hid it well in her emotions, she did nothing to hide the physical signs; how her eyes were sunken and irritated and seemed to droop as if in sadness or in exhaustion. The pallid, sickly look to her skin. The blemishes, the bags under her eyes, the hair that appeared limp and without luster. The deep lines that marred the corners of her mouth into an almost permanent frown. It was enough to almost be pitiful.
It was almost something Belldandy could empathize with.
Such a frightening prospect. To empathize with an entity she saw as her enemy.
"Urd wanted Hagall punished," Mara continued. "And in that respect, her final wish was granted. You still have the boon I gave your mortal?"
With some discomfort, Belldandy nodded. "It's in the purse Aiko bought for me," she revealed. "It's still at the pew inside the chapel."
Mara grunted, and she glanced back to the nave. Her eyes flicked to the corners of the foyer, where two hallways branched further around the corners and out of sight, and then to the foyer's threshold leading outside. The small dog pack had departed, but the Ibis still remained in the tree, watching them with the same interest of a pigeon on a balcony. Muttering to herself, Mara drew a vertical line in the air between herself and Belldandy, and for a moment the trail of her finger left behind a bright white after light, like a streak of a sunspot. Belldandy's purse tumbled out of it and into Mara's waiting hand, who glanced at the light blue object before giving it to the Norn.
"Give me the boon," Mara said as Belldandy took back her purse.
"You want it back?" Belldandy asked with some confusion.
Mara didn't respond, instead looking at her expectantly.
Frowning, Belldandy opened her purse and fished out an item bundled in a small, red washcloth. She offered it to the demon, a little relieved to see it off, and Mara took it, unfolded it, and stared down at the ear at the washcloth's center. Blood still coated its surface in a messy crust, and the ear still looked as pink and healthy as they day Mara had torn it off.
Without a second thought, Mara grabbed the ear, tossed it into her mouth, and started chewing. Belldandy recoiled, repulsed, and felt bile at the back of her throat as pops and snaps reached her ear as the demon chewed. Like a dog with a pig ear, Belldandy thought and fought back a dry heave. Yet rather than actually consume the ear, Mara instead brought the washcloth to her mouth and spit the wad of flesh and cartilage back into what had been its home for the past week.
"That's Hagall alright." She bundled the cloth around the chewed up remains and pocketed it, much to Belldandy's disgust. "Good. Then I can honor Urd's final request." Mara took a deep breath, and then crossed the vertical line of light with a matching horizontal line. The blonde then pushed her hand into the crossed center, where it vanished from sight, and then pulled it out with something clutched loosely in her hand. It was small and naked, whatever it was; a rat perhaps, or maybe a mouse, naked of the fur that should have covered its body. Belldandy wasn't certain. As soon as she withdrew it, Mara's second hand came to cover it from sight.
"Under the authority vested in me by Damkianna Hild, The Void Emperor of Niflheim and Conqueror of the Thirteen Ancient Tribes, and under the instruction of Dumu'damki Azag Uru'mir, I present to you this sacrifice." Her hands still cupped around whatever was in her hands, Mara offered her prize to Belldandy. "The Niflheimian justice department, with special guidance under Dumu'damki Azag Uru'mir and the acknowledgement by Damkianna Hild that an unforgiveable crime has been done to Dumu'mi lugal Belldandy Tyrsdotter and the family attributed to her by Gashan Hagall Sha'Temo." The woman looked Belldandy in the eyes. "Give me your hands."
Mutely, Belldandy brought her hands out before her, and Mara continued. "Under the bilateral interests in preserving the peace granted under the Din'gir-Galla Armistice, I present to you the reincarnated soul of Hagall Sha'Temo, no longer of the lofty title of Gashan now of the lowest rank of Na, to you, Dumu'mi lugal Belldandy Tyrsdotter, and offer a formal apology on behalf of Damkianna Hild for the crimes committed against you and your family." With uncharacteristic gentleness, Mara passed the creature in her hands to Belldandy, and then stepped back.
Belldandy stared down at the creature in her palms. "A cat?" A tiny kitten squirmed in her hands, so young as to only be perhaps a few days old, its eyes still sealed shut as a feeble mew came from it. "Is it... is there something wrong with it?" It didn't have any hair. In place of its right ear was a messy stump, the tips of which curled in towards the ear canal.
Her formalities finished, Mara shrugged. "Dunno," she spoke honestly. "The one in charge of the incarnation said that breed specifically didn't have fur. Ugly little shit, if you ask me. Probably the Damkianna's intention."
"What am I to do with this?" Belldandy's eyes remained glued to the kitten. It was male, she saw. Hagall had been reincarnated into a hairless male cat's body. Part of her wanted to laugh. Part of her wanted to scream.
"Whatever you want," Mara replied. "If you want to kill it, kill it. Hagall shall remember only up until her termination point and then be reincarnated into a new body once more. If you wish it kindness, then that is your choice as well, and in turn that is what Hagall shall remember upon her death." The woman paused, letting the words sink in before speaking again. "Reincarnation is a special punishment reserved only for the worst criminals. The memories of her past incarnation are sealed, and her mind has been reduced to that of her current body-a cat. She won't remember anything until her current incarnation is terminated, and from there she will be reborn over and over and over again until her sentence is served. The Damkianna developed it in the hopes that those criminals sentenced that fate would learn something from their incarnations and might mature into a better Falkin upon the return to their original status."
Belldandy didn't reply. In her hands, the kitten squirmed bonelessly, pawing the air for an absent mother, or one that never existed to begin with. "I only ask that, whatever fate you decide for it, you decide it once I am gone. I will not be accused of swaying your judgement one way or the other. Hagall's fate now rests in your hands."
Without another word, the demon turned and walked off, exiting the chapel's foyer and vanishing from sight with nothing but an ibis and a black jackal to witness her departure.
Belldandy didn't notice.
Hagall was in her hands.
Hagall, the demon responsible for her decade of pain and suffering, was in her hands.
Hagall, who had led to the demise of Urd, was in her hands.
Hagall's life was in her hands.
Her fingers began to encircle the kitten in her palms. First the pointer fingers on the end. Followed by the middle fingers. The ring fingers. The pinkies. She could feel the hairless kitten squirm in her grip in distress. She could feel its tiny paws kicking at her fingers, lacking any kind of strength or sharpness. She could feel its flesh, loose and strange without fur, heating her hands like a little flame. Her grip enfolded it, and now she could feel its heartbeat, weak but wild in its ribcage, which felt almost as flimsy as the ear that had been in her pocket or in her purse over the past week. She could feel its breath warm her right pointer finger, could feel its tail twitch weakly against her pinky. The grip tightened still and...
And...
Belldandy loosened her grip on the kitten, opening her hands to stare down at the pitiful blind creature in her hands. "I can't do it," she whispered to herself. "Not like... not like this. Never like this." Her eyes were starting to burn, and she blinked and readjusted her grip, bringing her hands closer to herself. The kitten, too weak to even stand yet, continued to writhe listlessly in her hands. "I'm sorry Urd... I'm so sorry but... not like this. I can't-I won't avenge you like this. I'm sorry." She stroked the kitten's head with a thumb, as if to comfort it, and watched as its head turned upwards toward her at her touch.
A kitten. A blind and deaf kitten still too young to even know what it was and with no memories of its past crimes.
And this was Hagall.
And this was the Daimakaicho's gift to her.
What a cruel woman the Daimakaicho must be, Belldandy thought. No wonder she is their leader.
"Is that a kitten?" A new voice, one still so fresh as to be called new but becoming more and more familiar rose from the foyer's threshold, and Belldandy turned to find Keigo Morisato staring at her with cautious curiosity. His shoes were covered in soil. There were brown, earthy stains on the knees of his pants.
For a long moment Belldandy stared at the boy, until Keigo began to squirm under her gaze. "It is," she said at last, and her voice was soft. She turned to face the boy and extended her arms towards him, allowing the young teen a better look. His curiosity getting the better of him, the youth approached, looking down at the kitten with unblemished interest.
"It's a sphynx kitten!" he cried, and then looked up at Belldandy with large brown eyes. "Where'd you find it? These things are supposed to be really expensive!"
"It was given to me," Belldandy replied, before deciding to change the subject. "Did you find your black dog?"
"Yeah," Keigo replied. "He was a nice dog. I guess the mortician owns him. He let me play fetch with his dog in the graveyard." The boy smiled up at Belldandy, and there was a light flush to his cheeks. "It was neat."
"Neat," Belldandy replied.
"Are you going to keep it?" Keigo asked.
"Keep what?"
"The kitten," Keigo replied. "You look like you don't like it. Is it because it looks like an alien? I'll buy it from you if you want. I've got like... sixty dollars back home saved up from chores for a new videogame coming out in September, but I'll give it all to you for the kitten instead."
Startled by the strange proposal, Belldandy stared down at the boy in silence. "What of your parents?"
"Ruberto Jimenez from science always says, 'It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission," Keigo replied with a smirk.
"I would need to think on it first," Belldandy replied, and then looked back down at the kitten. "I'm... not quite certain I want to give it up yet."
"Oh," Keigo wilted. "Well... if you decide you want to give it up, tell Kei I'm interested."
"I'll keep that in mind." But really, her decision had already been made. "Do you know if Keiichi or Aiko have experience caring for kittens here in Mid-America?"
"You'd have to ask them," Keigo replied.
"I see." Belldandy replied. "I think I will..."
The goddess straightened and turned back towards the chapel's nave, a new intent in mind for the small creature gifted to her during a funeral by a woman who was as much a stranger on Midgard as she herself.
XXX
And off in a faraway land, deep within the heart of a deep and black forest, Lind Tanarak-Nanuk Kajistiaat opened her eyes and awoke to a world not her own under a sky painted by a blood-red aurora.
"Where am I?"
Comments of a Madwoman: Long days and pleasant nights, Deb.
