The Dark Omen's tour bus finally applied its breaks in the early evening hours near the Hotel Muriel in Hannover. By way of ensuring costs were kept strictly to a minimum throughout the journey, Adrian had sat with his management and bookkeepers to discuss the budget assigned to accommodation between shows. As Adrian was always keen to keep costs somewhat low but maintain a modicum of luxury wherever he laid his head, the Muriel franchise had been a no-brainer to the organisers. Mostly located on the outskirts of more historical city centres, the Muriel prided itself on fusing historical architecture with modern-day comfort. The result was, beds large enough for a King, Queen, and all their offspring to sleep together in one; and glamorous bathrooms that made even Kristoph feel vaguely regal with a fresh, Egyptian Cotton gown hung on the door and slip-on slippers tucked away in the cupboard, all to make one feel royally fancy.
The mood of the band members descending from the bus was mixed. Adrian, Jésús, and Peter were all eager to set up their kit later in the day, for the night's Frühlingsfest event in the city centre. As such, they practically skipped off the bus, checked in, and disappeared to their rooms for a brief wash before their work truly began. Mabel, Kristoph, and Eric, however, trailed slowly behind them.
Since the conversation between Thet and Asmodeus, Eric had lost some of his more jovial persona and seemed to be constantly on the verge of asking a question, yet never getting there. As Mabel headed into the foyer to check herself and the men in, Kristoph pulled Eric back and pointed to the quaint patio seating area where he offered him a cigarette. Eric gladly accepted, and the two sat quietly enjoying a peaceful social smoke while looking out over a darkening park across the road.
Eric took a slow drag and breathed out a steady stream of smoke through his nose, closing his eyes and reveling in the momentary feeling of serenity. Finally, he turned to Kristoph, meeting his eyesight firmly for the first time since the conversation on the bus. In one breath he asked the question he had evidentially been bursting to ask for so long:
"So, you and Mab being the reincarnation of Adam and Eve; have you both, y'know... reconciled?" Eric hated how his voice had inadvertently reached a new octave in his question, however he was morbidly curious.
Kristoph choked on the inhale of his cigarette and laughed out incredulously, "That's what you've been bottling up all this time?"
"Well, yes! I mean, when you think of it all – Kris, you and Mab are parents!" The recollection of his early Sunday school years suddenly flashed into Eric's mind, "do you think Abel and Cain were reincarnated too?"
Kristoph swallowed hard. The two infamous sons of Adam and Eve hadn't crossed his mind once since he'd found out about his reincarnation; "bloody hell," he stubbed out his cigarette and pulled another one out of the pack, offering the packet to Eric in turn who graciously accepted.
"You should not smoke those, they're nicht so gut for you!"
Kristoph and Eric froze at the childish voice and slowly looked at each other, wide-eyed. Hesitantly, they both shifted in their seats to face the owner of the voice. There, in the single seat between them, sat a young girl with a doll. She couldn't have been any older than thirteen, her features were not too dissimilar from those of a traditional porcelain doll. As she sat smiling broadly at them both, her feet dangling inches from the ground; the men couldn't help but think she looked serene and angelic. The only things that made her appear somewhat inhuman, were her ethereal hue and translucency.
The two men stared, speechless. Eric inadvertently started to make a strangled scratching sound that might have been a scream had his throat not instantly dried out upon seeing the apparition in front of him. Kristoph's newly lit cigarette was now quickly burning to a stub between his fingers as he gawped, with a look of frozen terror.
Mabel yawned loudly as she appeared through the main entrance, jangling two sets of keys with a drained expression on her face. "Right guys, I've got the keys. Eric, you're in room 330. Kris, I dunno why, but Adrian's arranged for us to share a room. It was going to be a king bed in a special room; however, I've managed to downgrade us to... a... twin..." her explanation stalled to an unsteady halt as she took in the scene before her.
YOU ARE READING
After-Life
FantasyGone but not at rest. Granted a new lease of life, but unable to live it freely. Mabel Weaver quickly learns that death does not always mean the end. Who says the after-life doesn't have a sense of humour?
