Between Lives

As I climbed, the echo of my footsteps almost immediately disappeared as the sound waves touched the walls. These in part looked as if they had a rough surface that seemed all too familiar to me, there was something to the walls that made my skin crawl with both disgust and fascination. With each step, I tried to remember something, anything that would have been said or written down by my family members. Some small detail to give me a direction to take regarding this place. My thoughts and hopes came up empty. The more I climbed, the more the air became thick, the warmth increased so that it reminded me of the many days in the hot desert in those foreign lands I had visited during my patriotic duty. It was like a sauna.

"Are you the man that turned down the invitation into Elysium?" The voice itself was hard and cold like steel, each letter emphasized as if speaking was a burden. As the voice spoke in that deep soprano-like tone, it was completely devoid of any type of emotion.

"Yes," I replied, trying to keep my own tone of voice free of the fear that was slowly consuming me.

"Come," the voice commanded, "see upon my face, deals are better struck between villains when we can see each other face to face, eye to eye." I noticed that the more the voice spoke, the voice trailed off as if the owner of the voice was running out of breath.

I could see the end of the long winding staircase, the room reeked of incense trying to mask a more putrid smell, one that I recognized almost immediately. The smell of decaying bodies. The room was surprisingly lit, a large cresset hung from the ceiling of the large room and the flames provided ample illumination. As I looked around the room I could see a large silhouette sitting upon a large throne made of what looked to be bones from various creatures. The person was looking at the ground, its body bent forward as if in deep thought. As I looked around the room, I took a step toward the walls and reached out to touch the familiar texture that covered the walls.

"How many humans died to make this wall paper?" I had intended to ask that question in my head, but somehow the words escaped me before I realized that they had been completely formulated.

"Thousands," the voice answered almost immediately, there was no scorn in the tone. "All in this very room where you now stand," the voice continued, as I turned to face the body that had been resting on the throne, the creature had visibly shifted. It was now sitting erect, the long beard that showed his age was clearly visible as were his tired eyes. His face was covered in scars, all bearing a story of a violent life. Something I was all too familiar with. "Each stood as you stand, with the same confusion in their eyes, the same stench of fear you now emanate. However," the man signaled to a large table with a single chair, "none had that defiance that you have shown thus far."

"Thank you," I replied as I made my way to the large table, upon it rested a large bottle of whiskey and a single ashtray carved from the skull of some unknown creature. "I assume you are Lord to my escorts?" I reached for the pack of cigarettes, second nature forced me to offer one to my benefactor who merely looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders and took a single cigarette to my lips, as I reached for the bottle I paused for a second, remembering a story from long ago regarding accepted gifts from the Lord of the Underground.

"It is not a gift that requires anything in return," he remarked, "it is simply a courtesy among warriors. We have much to discuss, and this will help soothe your fragile constitution."

"Forgive me if that was taken as an insult," I replied, "I am in an unfamiliar place, with different customs to ones I am used to observing." I took a seat and poured the liquid onto a wooden cup that rested beside the ashtray.

"You are cordial," the man replied, "that is not a common trait among the foolish. Arrogance perhaps, but you are not arrogant," as he faced me I noticed that his eyes remained closed, his head however moved as if it was detached from his body. "Tell me, why did you allow the girl to go in your stead?"

"I'm a man who has too much blood on his hands to ever be called good, regardless of what any of you may think," I took a much needed drink from the cup, "the only reason why I was able to overcome those trials was simply because of the life I have led."

"You don't think that the path laid before you in your life was made to prepare you for those trials?" The man's eyes continued to remain closed, however he had taken a more relaxed position in the throne as he continued his questioning. "That perhaps what you endured in life was meant so that you did not have to endure it in death?"

"I didn't think that far ahead," I replied.

"No," he answered, "you certainly did not." The man took a labored breath, "yet you did not sway from your decision even after being told what the consequences would be," he moved about his seat as if searching for some object out of my comprehension. "Even knowing you would end up here, and you had every possible opportunity to change your mind, you still did not, instead you masked your fear with cynicism. Do you regret your decision now?"

"No," I replied, "it was for the best."

"For the best?"

"It is like I told the girl, she does not need to know a life like mine," I continued, "she has been through enough, there is no need for her to suffer more. For me, this type of life would not be so different than my previous life."

"When I heard of your sacrifice," the man stood from his throne, my immediate instinct was to rise to my feet as well. He motioned for me to remain seated as he walked toward me. "I was intrigued. The doorman was not lying when he said that no one had done that prior, given his seat for another. I needed to meet the man capable of such sacrifice," as he neared the table a chair appeared before him, along with a wooden cup. I opened the bottle and filled it. "You impressed both the Doorman and the Guide," he took the cup and drew it to his lips, "are you going to impress me as well?"

"I was not trying to impress anyone," I replied, "I simply answered questions that were posed, and took actions that I deemed to be right. Nothing more."

"You are aware that I can see into your being," he continued, "I can detect if you are lying, yet you have yet to lie. You are not even trying to conceal anything from me."

"There is no point," I remarked, "your earlier statement made me aware that you may have that ability, however I had no plans to try to deceive you."

"No, it would seem like you didn't," he allowed a small laugh to escape, this too seemed forced as if he had been repeating something he had heard long ago from mere memory. "Do you know why you are here? Before me?"

"No."

"Your family has shed blood for eons," he began, "not all under the guise of good intentions. Have you ever wondered why your family has always been successful in that endeavor but never in more honest ones?" I nodded, "you were given to us by an ancestor of yours so long ago that I doubt you would even recall his name. Regardless, it was his sacrifice that made it possible for him to avoid the punishment of this land. 'Every boy who takes up the mantle of head of the family shall be condemned to this place when their time comes,' that was the price. However, you made it difficult to pick up on this generation's bounty. You walked away from your Family duty, and so that role fell upon your brother. Yet here you are, again as the head of your Family."

"You don't know which one to collect?"

"Without any possible knowledge, you have made it impossible to collect, you have broken a long established tradition, in fact you have broken through the lines of Fate itself." He reached for the bottle and refilled both our cups, "I have a proposition for you, Daemon," he sipped the whiskey with what I could only hope would be contentment, "a new deal. Based on your actions, I know you are more than a reasonable man. Care to hear the proposal?"

"Of course."

"You don't get a heaven or a hell, your reward for being the Daemon is that you get to be the Daemon, until your bloodline is no longer needed. When you die, whether it be in a battlefield of your making or as a lonely man looking back on his life in some bed many years into the future, you will come to me. Then, I will send you back, over and over again, until you are no longer needed. With each life, you will have your instincts, your moral compass, and similar experiences to craft you into the same warrior," he paused to look at me, "each life you take, will belong to me."

"Not all," I replied, "any righteous man will get their chance at Paradiso."

"I knew you were a reasonable man," he laughed, "is there anything else that you would like to add before we seal this contract?"

"Yes," I replied, "none other from my Family will be made this offer, they will face the challenges if they must, but they will not be allowed to change this agreement on my behalf. They will have their fair chance at Paradiso, if they fail so be it. Until you have no further use of me."

"Agreed."

"Also, for those that would betray us for their own greed, no hope of ever rising from whatever pit or orifice you chain them to, no hope for a brighter future. Even as they continue their lives, may their misery grow until death. When they die, they will not be offered the challenges."

"I can see why you are called the Daemon," he drained the last of his drink as I finished the last of my cigarettes. "Before we strike this deal, I feel obligated to remind you that this will in fact take effect as soon as you return to your life. Do you understand that?" I nodded. "Finish your drink, child."

"How long until..." I began to ask when suddenly my attention was drawn to his face. Slowly, his eyes began to open and a light with the brightness of a thousand suns bathed me. There was just enough heat for it to be pleasant, but my eyes forced themselves to shut tightly.

...

"Come on D," an all too familiar female's voice begged, "please wake up. We need you."

"He's coming around," another voice said, this one I knew for sure. A brother's voice, one that had shared the pain of the battlefield with me more times that I could count, remarked.

The beeping of machines filled my ears, the light was unbearably bright. I tried to stand but my feet were not beneath me, I was not sitting down on a table inside a throne room any longer. I was laying down, covered with a single sheet and a large number of tubes, each probing my arms and chest. A mask covered my face, the hissing sound of air being forced into my lungs helped the awful dizziness of the room abate. As my eyes became used to the bright light, I was finally able to open them. Beside me were three of the closest figures in my life: Anais, Francisco, and Elvis.

"Welcome back, boss" Francisco said, "we got work to do."