CHAPTER 7
From what Kira could tell, Hell was surprisingly similar to Earth, only more crowded. There were people everywhere, more people than she’d ever seen in New York, which came as a shock.
And they came from all walks of life, in every shade, speaking all sorts of dialects. She assumed there was some sort of after-life magic cast over the entire place, because no matter the words people used, she understood them.
People walked the streets, alone, in groups, in pairs. They talked in the various cafes, they shopped and reclined on grassy hills, having picnics. Kira was amazed by all of it at first, but it quickly turned banal.
Pam was by far, the most persistent person she’d met and they quickly, if not reluctantly, became friends. Kira figured it was nice to have someone to show her around and though they were from different worlds, they found they had a lot in common. Both young women, both single, and both dead. A lot in common.
The first time Pam had taken her to block six six six, she had just stood in the center of a square staring in awe. The block was nearly the size of the entire borough of Brooklyn and there was everything in the world you could think of to keep yourself busy.
Some people even chose to work in the shops and restaurants. Pam had explained to her that one could have a job if they chose and that most people did, just because it kept themselves busy. A person could earn credits to spend if they worked, in addition to the welcome bonus everyone received upon entering Hell.
Perhaps the most surprising thing was that no one was rude, or mean to anyone else. Somehow the after-life magic had put everyone in a good mood and made them all get along.
“So, like, where’s Hitler, Stalin, Charles Manson, you know the bad guys?” Kira asked Pam as they sat on one of the many park benches, eating her favorite flavor, mint chocolate chip, ice cream.
Pam just shrugged and licked her strawberry cone. “Maybe they’re in another section,” she mused.
They walked through a library that was bigger than Kira’s entire apartment building had been. Each floor was wall to wall bookshelves, each fully stocked with books ranging from ancient tomes to recent best sellers.
Maybe she’d like to work here, she thought. Books were quiet companions and she liked the peaceful atmosphere. She couldn’t imagine an eternity of doing nothing, but also time seemed to work differently here. Maybe it just didn’t exist at all. That was a thought better left unexplored.
“You kind of get used to it. At least that’s what I’m told.” Pam said. “I met this old dude from India one time and he died in, like, the 1700’s or something. He was super cool and told me that he didn’t even notice it anymore. At some point he just stopped caring about the waking world. I’m not there yet, but maybe I will be soon. You’re smart, Kira. You’ll probably get used to it before me.”
Kira shook her head and pulled down an old leather bound book. She stared at it wide eyed, “Is this an original fucking Dickens?” She gingerly put it back on the shelf.
“I know the big guy really digs knowledge. So I guess that’s why there are so many books and stuff,” Pam responded.
“Have you ever seen him? Does he do, like, appearances or anything?”
“No way! Actually,” she paused, considering. “No one I’ve met has ever seen him. Maybe he’s like a hermit or something. Maybe he’s just super busy. Do you want to meet him?”
Kira shivered at the prospect and responded, “No. I don’t think so.”
Days passed, weeks, years, Kira wasn’t really sure. She wandered block six six six mostly, watching people, eating ice cream, pulling down old books from the library and reading them.
She was walking across the gently sloping green space when she noticed a dark, almost human shape.
He was reclining in the grass, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out in front him. She hadn’t seen him since the initial welcoming and she was surprised that she recognized him so easily. He looked so natural, so at home, and yet out of place here, like a lost shadow, the owner nowhere in sight.
“Hi Azrin,” she said, strolling up to him. He turned to look up at her, the artificial sunlight illuminating his golden face. “Whatcha doing?”
He turned back to look out over the block, and said flatly, “People watching.”
“Mind if I join you?” she asked.
He looked up to her again, a little glint in his eye. “Sure. Have a seat.”
Kira sat next to him on the grass and set a brown paper bag in her lap. The paper rustled, snagging his attention. His slightly pointed ears pricked up a bit at the sound.
“Do you, um, eat stuff?” she asked him hesitantly.
“Yes. I eat stuff.” He chuffed, mocking her verbiage.
“I just got these croissants from the bakery. Want one?” She reached into the bag and pulled out the flaky pastry. “They’re really good, actually.” She held it out to him.
Azrin sat up and folded his long legs underneath himself. When he took the pastry from her hand, his claws gently scraped across her fingers, setting the hairs on her arms on high alert. She couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like scratching idle circles on her back.
“Thank you,” he said, tearing a piece off the corner and returning his gaze to the people around them.
“There used to be this French bakery on Vanderbilt. I loved their croissants. I used to get one in the morning on my way to work sometimes.” She stared down at the pastry in her hands. “These are better though.”
He was silent for several moments before he said, not taking his eyes off the busyness of the square, “These croissants are fine, but pale in comparison to real Parisian croissants.”
“I’ve never been to Paris,” she said sadly. “I guess I never will.”
Kira looked over to Azrin who was licking crumbs from his black claws. The sight of his pointed tongue made her stomach flutter with a movement of a thousand tiny wings.
“Hey,” she said, changing her tone. “How come I never see other demons like you?”
He looked at her perplexed, “What does that mean? There are demons all over this place. There’s one right there.” He pointed to a short, red skinned, female figure with curling rams horns. Definitely a demon, but not the same.
“She’s not the same. The other demons are,” she searched in vain for the right words, “different from you.”
“That’s ridiculous. Humans come in all shapes and sizes and colors. Why would demons be any different?” he said nonchalantly.
Kira considered and couldn’t find a decent argument to make. She just replied with a pensive sound and turned her eyes back to the bustling square.
They both sat in silence for a while. The artificial sunlight was warm, but a cool breeze blew through the square and ruffled Kira’s hair.
Kira noticed a pair of elderly gentlemen walking hand in hand across the square. She could have sworn Azrin was also watching them so she dared to ask, “Do people find their loved ones here? Like if your spouse dies, are they here? Could you reconnect?”
“I suppose so,” he said. “Looking for someone?” He raised a brow, but take his stare from the scene.
“No,” she toyed with a blade of grass. “My mom passed away several years ago, but she won’t be here. She was a godly woman.” Kira rolled her eyes with the word.
Silence fell between them again. Their eyes drifting across the sea of faces.
Finally, Azrin rose to his feet. “I have work to do. Thank you for the pastry, Miss McKinley.”
“You can just call me Kira, ya know?” She said, blinking at the bright light above him.
“Very well.” he said, all formality. “Have a nice day, Kira.”
A little cloud of black smoke was all that was left in the place where Azrin had been. Kira sat on the lush grass for a while longer, picking at her croissant and completely lost in thought.
CHAPTER 8
Kira did, in fact, sign up to work in the library. She found she even liked the musty smell of the paper. Mostly she shelved books from various carts around the library, but every so often someone would ask for something in particular and she would help them find it.
Each time, it felt like a new adventure, a new part of the library to explore. And perhaps it was true pride she felt when she finally found what they were looking for.
It was so vastly different from the job she’d had above. No one cared if she showed up on time. No one breathed down her neck about deadlines, or reports. Just show up when you can, shelve the books, help people, leave when you want. It was perfect, actually.
Some days, when it was quieter than usual, she’d grab a book from a shelf, sit in one of the soft, aged leather chairs and read all day.
She was doing exactly that when she saw a trail of black smoke coming from the shelves on the other side of floor five. Smoke was something no one wanted to see in a library. It was completely contradictory to the atmosphere of a library, but she had a suspicion that it wasn’t a fire.
“Looking for a book?” she asked, as she came up behind his tall frame.
He turned on his heel to face her, startled. “Kira. Hello.” He ran a hand through his black hair, messier than she’d seen it before, between those shining horns. “Yes. I am. It’s usually right here, but today it’s not.”
She blinked twice at him, waiting a second to see if he would reveal the title. When he did not, she was forced to ask, “What is it?”
“Descartes, Les Passiones de l’ame.” He answered in perfect French. He looked back at the shelf as though the book would magically return home at the mention of its name.
“Well,” Kira said, looking down at the navy blue carpet, “that’s because it’s over there.”
She pointed across the floor to the little collection of leather chairs where she’d been sitting. “I was reading it, actually.”
“Oh.” Azrin’s tail flicked nervously. “I didn’t know you liked philosophy.”
“Sure. Who doesn’t?” she said smiling. “Honestly, I saw it on the shelf this morning and thought maybe it would help with my current situation, but I’m not really sure I understand most of it.”
She twisted the toe of her black ballet flat into the carpet and looked up into his face. “Have you read it?”
“Many times. I inspired him to write it.” His smile was feline as her eyes went wide.
“Shut up! No you did not.” She laughed and gently smacked his arm, finding nothing but rock hard muscle. He didn’t even flinch.
“Maybe you could give me the abridged version?” she said, half joking.
“Of course. But not here. Let’s go to a cafe.” He wasn’t joking. He was very serious and the thought of discussing philosophy in a cafe with a demon was an opportunity she would not pass up.
They walked side by side to the large cafe on the corner by the library. Azrin explained some basic principles of Descartes’ theories on the body, the soul, existence. Kira absorbed it all and once they found a comfortable table, a young woman came by and took their coffee order.
Azrin sat across from her in a soft green armchair, his long legs crossed. Kira sipped at her coffee as he spoke, just listening to his strange accent.
She tried to pick out a country, France, Britain, Egypt, Brazil? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fit the sounds into a box. His voice came from nowhere, from everywhere. She figured it was some sort of demon accent and was content to believe that.
“You see, ‘I think therefore I am’ simply means that if I am a thinking being, I must therefore exist.” he said matter of factly.
Kira nodded, her head was swimming with questions and ideas. “It makes sense. It’s just that, I don’t buy it.” She took a sip of the delicious coffee. “There’s no way to prove any of it. How can one believe in something that can’t be proven?”
“But you cannot prove that you don’t exist either.” Azrin’s brows rose.
They were deep in philosophical discussion and Kira had a sensation of actually enjoying herself for the first time in a very long time. She found that talking to Azrin was incredibly easy and he was knowledgeable without being condescending like so many guys Kira had tried to have big discussions with.
He was a surprisingly good listener too. He listened to her opinions and ideas and treated them as valid, as equal. There wasn’t even a hint of mansplaining.
She was admiring his eyes and the permanent shadow of a beard on his strong jaw. She was about to ask him something that, at least in her head, was important when a familiar male voice interrupted her, and she nearly lept out of her skin. The voice was so familiar. She knew how it sounded angry, sleepy, happy, drunk, and even breathless with pleasure.
“Kira McKinley? Is that you?” The voice belonged to a tall, thin man in his forties. His auburn hair was shorter than she remembered, but she knew it was unmistakably Marc’s voice.
“Holy shit!” she cursed in surprise and residual anger as she looked up at the pale faced man standing in front of their table. He wore jeans and a tattered band t-shirt, that Kira recognized as one she’d bought for him at the concert merch booth. She suddenly had the urge to vomit.
“Hey!” he said as he stretched his arm behind his head. “I thought I heard your voice. Funny meeting you here, huh?”
“Marc. What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes darting between Azrin and Marc. Azrin caught the glint of panic in her eyes.
“Had a fucking heart attack, just got here not long ago actually. You?” he answered.
Azrin eyed the man carefully, unsure of their relationship, only knowing that it was something from her past and probably someone she didn’t wish to be speaking with. He reclined casually in his chair, observing their exchange.
“Got hit by a car.” she answered curtly. “Um, Marc, this is Azrin. Azrin, Marc..” she gestured to the demon in the chair, who was trying his best to look bored.
“Oh hey man. Nice to meet you.” he stuck out his hand and Azrin shook it, making sure Marc took notice of his claws.
Marc laughed. “You would be friends with a motherfucking demon. I guess you haven’t changed much since we…” he trailed off as Kira shot daggers at him with her eyes.
“Yeah, well. When in hell.” Kira shrugged her shoulders and forced a smile.
Azrin dove head first into their conversation, “So you two know each other?”
“Oh yeah, we were together for almost three years.” Marc answered.
Kira nervously chewed on the inside of her cheek. Azrin noticed the little sign of frustration and frowned. It was painfully obvious that she didn’t like this man. She didn’t want to be talking to him at all.
“Yeah, until I found out he was already fucking married! How is Suz by the way?” Kira said, temper rising. There it was. There was the reason she didn’t want to talk to him. Azrin schooled his face into bored indifference, but was internally seething at the man who could elicit this sort of reaction from what had otherwise been a docile creature.
“You’re still angry about that? We’re fucking dead, Kira. Get over it.” Marc stood his ground like the asshole he obviously was. “She’s fine, actually. Would you believe she took the fucking chickens and left me for a twenty-something Brazillian model?”
Kira made a sound that was more of a scoff than a laugh. Azrin had heard enough. He glanced toward Kira underneath his heavy brows and could see the unhappiness. She was still angry, but worse, she was still hurt.
“Kira and I were just leaving, actually. You can have the table if you want it.” Azrin said flippantly, rising to his full height, nearly towering over Marc. His eyes flared with something wild and he put his hand out to Kira.
She took it, though with small hesitation, never taking her eyes off of Marc’s face.
“C’mon babe, let’s go,” Azrin said as he gripped her hand and helped her rise from the table.
Marc’s eyes were wide as he put the pieces together. Not just friends then. Azrin glared at him once more before they walked away from the table and out the door of the cafe, hand in hand.
They were down the street a bit, walking side by side, but no longer linked. Kira stopped on the sidewalk, looking up at him through her lashes, “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a sharp smile and continued more blandly, “Part of my job description is to keep the residents happy and comfortable. You didn’t seem like you were either of those things around that man.”
Kira watched her footsteps on the concrete, “No. He’s an ass. I guess death doesn’t cure heartbreak. Anyway, thanks again.”
“I’ll walk you home and maybe we can continue our discussion another time,” Azrin said.
Kira flashed her eyes up to his face and smiled broadly, “I have beer in my fridge. We could go back to my place if you want.”
Azrin’s answering smile was delightful. “I think I would like that.”
CHAPTER 9
Kira chuckled to herself in disbelief, a brown glass bottle in each hand, as she walked back into the living room. Azrin took up most of the far side of the cream loveseat, his dark suit such a contrast to the light and bright decorations in the room.
She couldn’t help but notice that he had followed her request to make himself comfortable. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a triangle of his tan chest, the curves of his pectoral muscles peeking out of the fabric.
She started to wonder what sort of workouts he had to be doing to stay so fit and promptly stopped wondering as soon as an image of him shirtless and gleaming with sweat popped into her mind.
She took a deep breath and sat down next to him, passing one of the beers to his awaiting hand. He took it and drank deeply from the bottle before making a crisp sound of satisfaction.
“So you like beer, huh?” Kira said with a smirk.
“One of humankind’s best inventions. It was an exciting day when we got it here.” he answered and took another drink.
“It’s weird,” Kira started. “So many things here are the same as they were up there.”
“Do you not like it?” he asked
“It’s not that.” Kira used the time spent drinking from her beer to think of the right words. “It’s just that I didn’t expect this. This sort of mundane, day in, day out, existence for my eternity.”
“What did you expect?” Curiosity lined his features.
Kira sat in silent contemplation for a moment, not exactly sure how to respond. She’d never really given the after-life much consideration, always too focused on the present or the past, but never that far into the future.
“I guess I expected nothing. I didn’t believe in Hell or Heaven or God or Satan. None of it. I just thought you died and that was it.” She took a swig of the beer. “End of the road.”
“Hmm, it must have been quite a shock when you arrived.” Azrin said, musing.
Kira shrugged, “The real problem is that everyone seems so content, but I can’t seem to get comfortable. No matter how hard I try, it’s like there’s a piece missing.”
Azrin studied her face, his own showing sympathy. He finally said, “I’m sorry you’re finding it difficult to adjust. I understand.” He added more quietly, “Maybe more than you know”.
“What was that last bit?” she asked.
Azrin startled at her question, “Oh. I said I should probably go.” He drained the bottle and stood from the sofa. He shook the empty bottle gently in the air. “Where’s your bin?”
“Under the sink,” she replied and watched him walk into the kitchen. The little point at the end of his tail peaked up above the island countertop. “Are you really leaving? You just got here.” she called out to him.
He turned around and faced her, something in his expression had changed. It wasn’t cold or indifferent, it was soft, melancholy.
“I have work to do.” he said, moving toward the front door. “But thank you, Kira, for a very nice afternoon.”
Kira rose from the sofa and met him at the door. Her eyes pulled up to his and she could have sworn the darkness there swirled. She smiled, “Anytime, Azrin. I always have beer if you ever need one.”
One corner of his lips turned upward as he looked down at her. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He said just before stepping over the threshold and disappearing by way of that now familiar black smoke.
Kira bolted the door and collapsed onto the sofa. The cushion on the other side was still warm. She had forgotten all about feeling out of place and alone while he had been there. Now the apartment felt too big, too empty. She pulled a couple more beers out of the fridge and turned on the television.