Bound| Fantasmical 2023

TalesoftheDeep: End?

When I return to my dimension, I'm a wreck. I've lost some weight, my hands tremble, and I'm constantly looking over my shoulder. I clutch Lucifer's paperweight tightly to my chest, and I'm standing in Cassy's garden, the place where this all began over a year ago.

She's tending to her roses, scooping soil with a small trowel. I know I arrive abruptly, what with a flash of light and a flair of glitter, but she doesn't even look up.

It's only me calling her name that snaps her head in my direction. Her eyes go big, and her mouth curls into a smile.

"Louie?"

"The other-dimensional version of you saved my ass. So, thanks."

The bluntness and humor I try to push into my words can't hide what I feel. It's all over my body. I'm shaking, tears pooling down my face.

She clasps her arms around me. "Oh, Louie. You look like shit."

"Not rocking Persephone realness, huh?"

"Maybe if you ran Persephone through a paper shredder. Let's get you cleaned up."

"Uh huh." But I'm clutching her so tightly, all I can do is press my face into her shoulder and cry.
***
I replace Persephone realness with Louie realness after a long hot bath of pink bubbles and glitter bombs. Wrinkled white shirt, cargo shorts; I put my clip-on tie on as a celebration, I guess, a return to my masculine roots.

We share dinner, duck and oranges, while Cassy looks on in horror with each story.

"Yeah," she finally says. "It was scary for a while, but after you left, the weird stuff went away. Small dragons would play in my garden for a while, and then they were gone. I guess the demonic underworldly god-kings or whatever got what they wanted."

"I always knew you had it bad, being chased by Lucifer and all, but jeez, that sucked."

She takes a long sip of hot tea. "The price of being fabulous."

"Tell me about it, right?"

I don't tell her about the skull stone clutched in my hand. I just let her talk to me about her new project, a visual novel that's distinctly not occult, a sharp departure from her old work. Pink and light and airy, and good. I'm sitting back, stunned. Fairies and fae, glitter and high fashion. 

"I didn't think you had that in you."

"To tell you the truth, I'm kind of Devil-ed out. And there's more to me than just 'goth,' you know." 

I nod. And we just talk. And talk and talk and talk. In fact, I spend the night. And the next night. And then the week. I keep the stone in my pocket, I don't tell her about it, and then finally, I let her know. 

"I'm free, but I'm going back. Just to visit."

And she doesn't argue. Just says: "Good luck," as I make a final pentagram in her garden. 

**"
When I see the Devil, he's hunched over his desk. He's writing something, and I drop the skull on his parchment. He turns around suddenly, his whole face alight. It's almost glowing, like an angel's. 

"Louie!" 

"I'm free. I met the terms. No more six months of hell for me."

He blinks incredulously. "I think I made a bad deal." 

I cross my arms. "Damn right. But maybe I might stop by. If you ask nicely."

He smiles. Like full of teeth. "Well, then. Would you be willing to go an adventure with me?" 

"Nicely."

"Don't test me, human." But his words lack the malice, the threat. 

"C'mon. Say it."

"Please. I need my right-hand man." 

It's that. 'Right-hand man.' Partner in crime. Not a flower or a Persephone. Just me, just Louie. I jump up and wrap myself in his shoulders, taking in that rich, ambrose smell of his cologne. He holds me easily in his arms. 

"Oh, and take me out to dinner first," I say with a wink, and he gives a shockingly human laugh. 

***

The adventure is this: a dingy in the Antarctic sea. It's small and dirty, reeking of fish. It does not befit what I usually consider the Devil's taste, designer clothes and small luxuries like imported soaps and shimmery jewels. But he sits at the helm, his face oddly serene. 

"I just want to check if all the creatures from the other dimensions have fully left," he only admitted when we entered the boat. It's a human amount of time. Long. The hours tick by slow, but they're nice. Us playing checkers and watching old VHS horror movies. It's not that romantic. Aside from a few glances and a kiss here and there, not much about our relationship has changed. 

The water is still. It's still for weeks. All of our technology only exposes whales and fish and seals that scatter at the Devil's malevolent presence. It's only on one morning when we're both drinking coffee, when we see something underneath surface. 

A single dragon, with koi-colored scales. Splotches of white and orange that shimmer against the pink sky. 

I hope you enjoyed my gift, Louie. Its cat-like eyes wink at me. I wink back. 

But it appears your troubles are not over. Abandon this world, mortal. 

I suck in a breath. "Nah, no thanks." 

There's a screech from the hull. The Devil shouts and changes form into something ethereal and smoky, but I can't leave my spot. 

Far below, there's teeth and big black eyes. Suckers on tentacles the size of satellite dishes. A pink fleshy mouth swallows the dragon whole. 

And I fucking shoot it. Like with my gun. I empty my cylinder into the slimy flesh. It screeches, black-ink-blood spewing on to the water.  

Look, man. Sometimes you just got to handle these things the human way. Sometimes, there's finese. And sometimes you shoot it.