Friday, November 23, 2012

Going Upstairs


"Whoa," I said sharply.  Wyver now had my undivided attention.  "They're going to kill everyone at my funeral?"

"That is what they said, sir," Wyver said mutedly, still not looking up at me.

"Wait--what day is it?" I glanced wildly at Gus.  "How long have I been down here?  Hasn't my funeral happened already?"

Gus shook his head sympathetically.  "Doubtful.  Time moves much more...sluggishly in the pit.  Part of the torture of Hell is that the pain always lasts longer than you expect because time passes more slowly than you're used to."  He glanced upward as though he were checking a clock in the world of the living.  "You might have only been dead for 24 hours up there.  Who knows?"

"So those two demons are going upstairs to crash my funeral and kill everything?  Can they even get up there?"

Gus shrugged.  "I'm not personally aware of the spell they were talking about, but rumors of spells like that have been around since way before I got tossed down here.  It might be legit."

I felt the uneasy sensation of my blood pumping hard in every part of my body--including the tips of my ears.  "Okay, so how do I get this spell?" I asked.

"You don't need it," Gus said, placing what must have been meant as an encouraging hand on my shoulder.  "You're the motherfucking Devil."

That wasn't particularly helpful.  "Okay," I said curtly.  "Meaning what?"

"You can teleport to anywhere you've been before," Gus reminded me.  "Demons have trouble getting upstairs because they were born down here.  You were born up there.  You should be able to teleport back."

"Okay," I sighed, psyching myself up.  "That makes sense.  I'm gonna go kick some LOD ass then." 

I closed my eyes and focused on my parents' house.

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