David dipped a freshly fried chip into the curry sauce and ate it slowly, relishing the mix of salt, vinegar, potato and spice, all cooked with boiling vegetable oil. He picked up his tea, sipped the oh-so-sugary contents and swallowed all his mouth’s content down. I’m a simple man with simple pleasures, he thought. He’d done a good thing, getting rid of Runt. No more muggings from him. The streets would now be marginally safer because of it.

  Feeling a degree of contentment with that thought, David sat back in his chair and faced the promenade across the road. And there, he watched the silent Fred watching him in return.

  This whole experience would be nice, if not for the eyesore in front of me.

  Outside, Fred was seated on a bench that faced the chip shop from across the road. He was very still and very silent. Unmoving, like a statue. He seemed to not even blink. His hands were clasped together and he had a slouch which hid his steely, zombified willpower. His eyes did not leave David. Nothing distracted him. He’d been there for the entirety of David’s lunch.

  David had decided to not give the thing called Fred the slip. Honestly, there’d be no point. He’d only be needlessly putting Father Daniels and himself in danger. As part of an experiment to see how focused the zombified man was, David had stood up from his table. As he suspected, Fred immediately copied him like an ape. Then David sat down, so did Fred. Unnerved and satisfied with his theory, David had then remained at his table for thirty minutes to finish his meal. Fred did not move at all. He only stared and never breathed.

  David wondered upon the idea of this man that he had killed. How was he even here? He was supposed to be a mound of burning ash back in London, let alone being dead… So how? Was he no longer dead? David was pretty sure that he was. It was his specialty after all…

  How did Michael do it? Did he make a deal with the devil or something?

  David’s mind conjured up dark candlelit rooms with hooded, black cloak wearing cultists. Normally, he’d laugh off the very notion. Not anymore though… Now, he felt spooked.

  What would it take for Michael to bring someone back? How easy was it? If it was, then bringing back my mother would be no problem for him. But there has to be a cost, there’s got to be.

  Another question then, to add the ever-growing pile of questions that hounded his mind since that night in Homerton Station:

  The tall stranger who took a knife to the face and lived. What is he?

  Michael. Who the hell is he?

  And what’s his endgame? What’s his plan? And why does it all revolve around Emily?

  David rubbed his temple. It was throbbing. A headache, provoked and agitated by the stress of recent days and the growing use of his enchanted eye. He sipped at his tea, hopeful that the liquid would provide him some temporary respite.

  Much later, upon a full stomach of chips, fried fish and tea, David set off from the chip shop and headed up into Brighton’s central hub. The commodity shops were still open and loudly filled with chatting locals. Clothes, vinyls, candies, food, books, homeware… So much to see, but David had no time Despite the waning afternoon hours, it was still busy and light-hearted. David marvelled at how oblivious everyone was to him. All of them, focused on material gains.

  No one suspects me of anything… It’s like I’m a normal person, going about his business… Well, if there every a place to retire and live out the remainder of the days, Brighton would be the best place to choose. Mum would like that. Maybe she could live out here with me. Have a life for once. That’d be nice…

  David craned his head through an open doorway to a bookshop. Inside were two young booksellers, chatting in a flirtatious manner at the counter. Few customers milled about within. It was quaint and smiled of wood and paper. David slipped away, his mind drifting towards a possible future he could make.

  What job could I pick up after all of this is over? Maybe a bookseller? I do like books. Or maybe retail?

  A police officer strode past him, heading towards the throng of the crowds. David watched her disappear into such a throng.

  How about a policeman? I am good at finding people. And already have a proficiency for violence… Heh, maybe I’m a tad overqualified for that.

  As David watched the police officer leave his sight, Fred appeared from the people, like a shark gliding through shoal of fish. As always, Fred’s eyes did not leave him. David gave Fred a little wave, which Fred did not return.

  I wonder if he even remembers me? Remembers what I did? Doesn’t look like it. That could be the case. God… seriously, what the hell have I got myself into here?

  David walked past an outdoors fashion shop. He weaved his way through the racks of clothes that packed up more tightly than sardines. He spied for his tool. The only tool he required. He found it. A spare coat hanger, all malleable wiring. David swiped the hanger with no trouble and continued onwards.

  David turned off the main road and started up one of the side alleys that led to a quiet part of the town. He needed privacy, for he was now looking to steal himself a car.

  To his assumptions, it had to be a fast car. But reliable and stocky. Built for travel. And most importantly, as inconspicuous as possible. David walked and looked on as he passed more cars, parked and left defended by their security alarms.

  He had to be careful now. He had already noticed Brighton police out in force on the main streets of the city. David’s murder of the mugger called Runt seemed to have finally caught their attention. The sooner he was out of the city, the better.

  He could have spared that kid’s life. He could have. He should have. But that would go against everything that he stood for. If he spared the boy, would he have honestly learnt his lesson and become an upstanding member of society? Or, much like the rest of the generation inflicted with apathy, would he have gone home, slept and then wake up to mug another innocent? Maybe even kill them?

  David decided that his choice had a certainty. Runt was dead and he had to die. And people who would have been hurt by him in the future would be safe.

  Still though, David nodded as he continued his vehicular hunt, I didn't feel good about it. Odd…

  David stopped as he turned a corner and finally saw what he needed. It was a 4x4 Range Rover, painted black with an admirable fender and four tinted windows. Large enough to easily fit five people and more importantly, it was parked in a side street and out of the sight of all prying eyes. And the window of the driver’s seat was slightly open…

  It was a perfect opportunity.

  David had not much experience with hijacking cars. But what he lacked in skill, he made up for in determination. He had some idea of how to do it… Pulling out from his newly pilfered hanger, he spent a few minutes bending the wire into a single straight line with a hook at the end.

  David then made his way around the car, looking all about him for any witnesses. Satisfied that he was truly alone, he began to carefully slip the wire through the window’s gap, pushing ever so carefully towards the car lock switch on the door’s handle. He twitched. And the hook pushed the switch open. David nodded, opened the car door and, much to his hope, the car’s alarm went wild.

  A screeching sound emitted from the horn of the car. David pulled out the wire and quickly stepped back to the other side of the street, dropped the wire and waited for the owner.

  The alarm continued.

  After five minutes of waiting, David started to become concerned that no one was coming.

  After ten minutes, David then decided to abandon the venture and try for another car. The police would have heard the alarm by now.

  But patience had paid off. The alarm was shut off, which revealed the sounds of fast footsteps to David.

  And to David’s dismay, it was a woman who appeared from around the corner of the now quiet street.

  He had hoped for a man. He assumed that a man owned the Range Rover. Not a woman. If it were a man, David would have happily killed the man or at least knocked him unconscious. But a woman… It had to be a bloody woman…

  She was middle-aged with thinning peroxide-blonde hair and carried a stressed disposition. She headed straight for the car. Checking over it and within, she closed the open door, turned and headed for David.

  “Hey!” she barked as she reached him. “Did you do that?”

  David shook his head as he used his foot to slyly shift the wire underneath the car behind him. “No, not me. I just came to see what the noise was. I actually saw some children around your car. They seemed to have found a way in.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes, considering if she would believe him. She sighed, placed her hand on her hips and nodded. David sighed internally.

  “Well, did they take anything?” she asked, sounding a tad calmer.

  “No. I don’t think so. I showed up. They saw me and scarpered.”

  “You get a good look at any of them? I’ll report it.”

  David then noticed Fred, who was standing at the corner of the street, watching them both with his dull eyes. Fred’s hands were clenched. His posture low.

  David felt a sense of ill-boding in his gut. He shook his head at the woman. “No, sorry. I didn't get a chance to. But I’m sure you’ll be fine, I’d better go.”

  But the woman grabbed his arm to stop him. “Hang on, look, why don’t you remember? You just saw them. Surely you have some memory? Were they black?”

  David frowned at the insinuation. “Why black? Maybe they were white? I have to go now. Excuse me-”

  “Ah! So they were white!” the woman affirmed. “You do remember! Why the lie, huh?”

  David tensed his jaw. This was getting out of hand quickly. “Let go of me, please.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes again. “I think you know more. I think you’re part of it. Think you can make a fool of me, huh?”

  The woman, who was stronger than David gave her credit for, shoved him into the car behind him. David resisted the urge to fight back. He wasn't going to hurt a woman. Not a chance. But he wanted to get out of there. He had to.

  “Hey!” he said. “Give me a break! I told you everything! I showed up, they ran. I didn't get a good look at them. Maybe they were white, I do not know! But I’m not car thief!”

  “Is that right?” the woman snorted. “You don’t seem like you’re from here! You’re staying where you are while I call the police. I’m sure you’ll be more talkative to them. The nerve of you! Stealing my car and lying about it to my face!”

  “Let go!”

  “You listen here-”

  “I said, LET GO!”

  David wrenched his arm free from the blonde woman and tried to make a run for it.

  But she pursued. David felt a hand grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to stop.

  No! I’m too close! Too close!

  He spun and, to his horror, backhanded the woman by accident. She made a coughing sound as she staggered back, tripped over her feet and fell backwards.

  David stared as the the back of the woman’s head bash into the curb of the pavement with a crack like a hammer on ice.

  The woman lay motionless. Her eyes stared and her body jerked. But the jerking did not last and she became very still. And that was when David saw the blood pooling out from her hair.

  “Oh no. Oh God no…” David crouched beside the dead woman. Her blood began to spread under her head and neck and David had to shift himself to avoid staining his shoes.

  Padding footsteps made David look up to see Fred standing over him.

  “We have a car now.” Fred said.

  David’s face flushed with anger. “Not like this!” he hissed.

  “What does it matter?” Fred replied. “She is dead. Take the keys.”

  You son of a bitch.

  David looked at the woman’s hand and clutched within her fingers were her car keys. With shaking hands, David reached out and pulled the keys from her grasp. When he had done so, Fred knelt down and lifted the woman’s arms and began to drag her body away towards an alcove nearby.

  David stood up and followed Fred.

  In the small alcove, there were no windows from the looming building around them. Fred dropped the body on the floor and faced David.

  David stared and stared at the woman who was now dead. Because of him.

  David had sworn to never hurt a woman. Not in anger, lust or revenge. Never. As long as he lived. But he had now. He had killed her. And he hated himself for it.

  Fred suddenly spoke up. “You are upset by the woman’s death. I can understand that.”

  David laughed mirthlessly. “Do you?!”

  “She was an obstacle.”

  “She wasn’t! The real obstacle is that man who’s with Emily. That’s the obstacle! You want to kill someone, you can go and kill him!”

  “If that’s what worries you, then allow me to handle this.” Fred looked into David’s eyes. “With your permission, of course.”

  David’s eye twitched from his fury. Was that fucking sarcasm, Fred?

  David spat at Fred’s face. Even dead, Fred was still a piece of shit.

  Fred made no reaction to the spittle on his face.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  He only knelt back down to the dead woman, flipped her onto her back and pulled open her mouth. David watched as Fred placed his lips on the woman. From his angle, David could see the woman’s cheek fluctuate.

  David gagged. “What the hell are you doing now?”

  Fred said nothing as he continued kissing the corpse. After an uncomfortable minute of such displays, Fred stood back up, wiped his mouth and stepped back.

  David stared at him. “What the fuck.” “The Kiss of Death.” Fred stated. “Observe.”

  David did and God have mercy on him, did he observe.

  The woman’s body was so, so still upon the tarmac. Still as rock. It was eerie to witness it, considering how full of life she used to be. David glanced back and forth between her and Fred, strangely curious to see how Fred himself came back.

  Fred did nothing but stood there, arms crossed and waiting.

  And just like the undead pigeon, the woman’s body twitched.

  Jerked from feet to head as if an invisible electric current shot through the flesh. Her fingers slowly splayed forth and back and forth once more. As if they were stretching. The hands then laid flat on the road pushed the upper half of the body to an upright position. The woman’s face was still dead, her eyes still closed and mouth slightly open. But once she was sitting upright, she twisted her head to face David and Fred, suddenly opened her eyes and sighed a lengthy breath.

  And blackness, thick black smoke, escaped from her mouth. Pushed through the gaps in her teeth and fell upon her body and hands. Only for the smoke to be absorbed back into her body. The woman then slowly rose to her feet, shambling up to a standing position, and faced the men with her hands by her side.

  David said nothing. He had nothing to say. He had just seen a woman return from the dead with his own eyes. Fred’s existence was bad enough, but now that he had seen it himself there was no doubt to the seriousness of the situation he was in.

  Fred stepped forth. “What was your name?” he asked the woman.

  The woman looked at Fred, appraised him from foot to head, and spoke. “My name was Karen.” Her voice was just as emotionless as Fred’s.

  “What was your purpose?” he asked next.

  “A married wife of three children with two nieces and one nephew.”

  David felt sickened. She had a family.

  “What is your purpose now?” Fred asked.

  “To serve our Master.” She replied.

  Fred nodded. “You know what must be done.”

  “Yes. And it shall be.” Karen turned on her heel and started to walk away.

  David looked back and forth again. “Wait a second. What is she doing now?”

  Fred started heading back to the car that was now theirs. “Her duty to our Master.”

  David shook his head as he gripped tightly onto the car keys. He hoped he would cut his palm on the keys. Maybe for some penance for getting an innocent woman killed. For a fucking car.

  *****

  After saying goodbye to Theodore, Jessie and Charlotte, Donn endeavoured to stay at a decent establishment. His reasoning was that if they were to ‘slog it out’, as Emily had put it, they deserved to stay in good hotels or ones with some character.

  To Emily, who had not ever really stayed in a proper hotel before, had no clue to what constituted to ‘character’ in a building. But as they continued their walk along the promenade, Donn suddenly stopped before a building along the King’s Road. And when Emily looked upon it herself, she started to understand what he had meant.

  The Heart & Hearth Hotel seemed to be designed to look like a wedding cake with too much white icing. It was extremely pristine and sun-bleached from years of basking in the sunlight. It was five floors high and certainly looked like it had ‘character’.

  “Ah. Of course. This will do finely.” Donn said with a nod and headed straight in through the blue front doors. Emily quickly followed him into the lobby.

  The lobby was traditionally designed like a nineteenth century room with classic carpeting and walls not removed from Victorian taste. A young man with deep blue hair like the doors was leaning on the front desk, whistling a tune to himself and suffering from a mild case of idleness. Adorning the desk and surrounding him were bunches of different flyers for many events. But as Donn and Emily entered, the young man stood back up in full attentiveness and bowed politely to Donn.

  “Ah! Donn! I was informed that you were coming! Welcome to the Heart & Hearth Hotel! Welcome, welcome!”

  Donn stepped up to him and leant on the desk. Emily stood by, wondering who this person was now. Donn was quick to dispel the mystery, because that would not serve any purpose.

  “Emily,” Donn gestured to the young man. “This here is Beelzebub. A demon.”

  Beelzebub extended his supple hand to Emily who understandably took it gingerly. “Charmed.” he said with a toothy grin. “Haven’t had a human stop by here in a while. Not since 1999.” Beelzebub pointed to the flyers with a fatal sharpness in his eyes. “Please, dear Emily, have a flyer…”

  “Oh.” Emily said with nerves jangling her body. “Thanks?”

  Donn waved his hand at Beelzebub before Emily could reach out towards the flyers. “Ah, no no no. No flyers for her. She’s with me. Not for you.”

  Emily did not know it at the time, but she came dangerously close to being locked into a demon’s contract. That’s how things like this worked.

  Beelzebub frowned. “Oh. Shame. She seems intriguing. What a loss… Anyhow!” Beelzebub ducked down behind the desk. “I take it you’d want your usual room?”

  “As always.”

  Beelzebub returned and, in Donn’s outreached hand, dropped a key with the number 9 dangling from it. “There you go. By the hour or by the day?”

  “Day. And credit it as usual.”

  Beelzebub rolled his eyes. “You damned Reapers… cheaper than a Wall Street broker… You know where to go. Enjoy your stay.”

  Donn nodded and headed towards the back of the lobby where a pair of elevators awaited use. Emily rushed quickly after him. “Um, right okay… I have a lot of questions.”

  The left elevator opened with a ding as soon as Donn stepped in front of it. They stepped inside and the elevator started its ascension.

  Emily couldn't wait. “Is he really a demon? Like the Christian demon? Mephistopheles and all that?”

  “Yes.”

  “So demons live amongst us.”

  “Of course.”

  “…….Ok. Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool… Yeah, why??” she asked with her eyes nearly bugging out from their sockets.

  Donn shrugged. “The Hells are not a pleasant place to stay in. So the different demons from all the different religions come up here to relax. Like a working holiday. That’s why we are here to stay until we are done with Brighton. The Heart & Hearth Hotel, like many of its branches spread out throughout the world, supply such needs. We supernatural beings all need a break from work from time to time.”

  “What? All supernatural beings?”

  “Oh, yes. Not just demons, but angels too. All the different types live amongst you. You humans just don’t look properly or hard enough. All you need to do is just look further than what you are seeing.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense.”

  Donn cocked a grin. “And why should it?”

  The elevator dinged open and they started down the carpeted hallway. Emily looked upon the doors. She wondered who was staying in. Gods? Demons? Monsters? Beings of unimaginable power?

  It struck her how close she was living amongst such wonders. How many times had she crossed paths with a magician or some ethereal deity on her walks in London? Did someone as powerful as an angel live on her street?

  And then a thought sent a shiver through her spine. “Have you met Lucifer? As in, the Devil?” she asked Donn with a halted breath.

  Donn nodded slowly. “Indeed. And I did not like him. Too intense. Too psychopathic.”

  Emily rubbed her forehead. “Well, fuck me…”

  “Don’t tell me you want to ask what he’s like? It was bad enough to be with him, let alone talk about him.”

  “No! No! I mean, you’ve got to understand Donn, it’s pretty fucking crazy to learn that there may be a god walking around the estate block where I have been hanging out. Jesus, you were that god most likely! Now you tell me that Lucifer hangs out here with his group. Just for holidays??”

  “Of course. If it makes you feel better, I have met Michael, Gabriel and Raphael too. They are far nicer. And the leading enthusiasts for chess in the Divinity.”

  “How-… How the fuck has there not been a full-blown war between all these guys? Like, they’re in the same building. Don’t they, like, hate eachother?”

  Donn stopped in front of their door. A great brass nine was nailed perfectly in the centre of the door. He slid the key into the lock and twisted. The lock made a quiet click and the door swung open without so much of a creak. As Emily stepped through into the room, which was roomy and warm, yet holding a pleasing breeze that brushed her face as she entered, Donn answered her pressing question to alleviate her worries.

  “Oh there have been some skirmishes, some brawls here and there. Some bridges collapsing from said fights. Random fires that burn down flats and other buildings. But none large enough to threaten countries, let alone the world. We have a strict rule base. As you are well aware of by now, we have schedules and strictures. Times and places. Lucifer knows the archangels won’t cause problems. As does the archangels for Lucifer. Emily, if those two groups were to fight or the other multitude of deities that roam this world, such a battle would devastate the planet. But no one wants that to happen. Not us, not them and certainly not humanity.”

  “So it’s a truce?”

  “Tentative, but palpable. They work on their accord, corrupting or purifying souls and we, the Reapers, collect them. A simple and easy system that scratches everyone’s backs.”

  “But someone broke out my family members from the Deathlands.”

  “Which is bad news. No one from either the Heavens or Hells have claimed responsibility. Which is why we have to get this job done as soon we can. Imbalance such as this can cause dangers that not even the perpetrator themselves could comprehend.”

  Emily dropped her rucksack onto one of the two single beds and Fresca clambered out of the bag and onto the bed, eager to stretch her legs and dominate the new room she was in. She leapt off the bed and started pacing the room while making pleasant purring noises.

  Emily fell back onto the bed and gazed up at the ceiling and then looked around the room.

  It was a lovely room, neatly tidied with a hoovered carpet and possessing three large windows that faced the sea and Brighton Pier.

  A large TV hung from the wall in front of the beds.

  A small writing desk was in the left corner and a mini-fridge was in the right.

  An ensuite bathroom was by the front door. All in all, a pleasant hotel room.

  Emily remarked with a smile. If this is Donn’s life, it’s not bad. Could get used to it. Maybe this could be a gig that I can make work.

  “Hey Donn?” Emily asked.

  “Yes?” Donn was leaning against the window, watching over the people of Brighton. The sun was long gone and the encroaching night was pouring over the sky.

  “I was wondering. What happens with me when we’re done?”

  Donn looked back at Emily. “I do not know. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I was thinking that perhaps, if it isn't any trouble to you or the others, that I could work for you? You know, make this assistant job I have a proper gig?”

  Emily looked at Donn and was shocked to see such great sadness in his eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Emily. You do not want this life. This is not a life.”

  Emily chewed her tongue. “I don’t mind. This isn’t half bad, you get to live for free in hotels. You travel all over the country and continent. You can do anything you want. This is the farthest and longest I have ever been from my home.”

  Donn shook his head. “Emily. You’re too young to understand.”

  Emily sat up. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have no idea how tough this job is. You do not have it in you to take a soul. When the time comes, and I hope it does not, you will see for yourself.” Donn turned his back on the window and headed for the bathroom. “Best to go to sleep now, Emily. We’ll be waking up early morning to find the first soul.” Feeling that the conversation had run its course, Emily kicked off her shoes and settled into her bed. She was not convinced of Donn’s reaction.

  She honestly believed that this was the right life for her. Smiling at such a prospect, she slowly closed her eyes and allowed sleep to take hold.

  Donn showered thoroughly and returned clean and crisp. He also slept in his clothes.

  Fresca, content with her wanderings around the room, moved under Emily’s bed, curled into a tight fur ball and began to snore quietly.

  Emily snapped her eyes open in the darkness. In her hotel bed, staring at the wallpaper that bled from the walls and into the ceiling, Emily had the strangest sense that she was being watched. The feeling stirred her from slumber and made her delirium fade away. She turned her head to Donn, who was fast asleep. She pulled herself out of the bed, stretched her arms, yawned and headed over to the window.

  Looking back on it, she could not understand what made her wander to the window. She couldn't even decide whether or not it was a dream.

  But standing at the window at that point in time, she peered through the glass and spied upon the promenade. It was under the thick tinge of streetlight orange, with shades of black in the appropriate places where shadows would be. Stragglers coated in shadowy darkness, out late either from midnight drinking sessions or the late night screenings from the nearby Odeon cinema, paced and stumbled upon and down the pathway. Save for one.

  There was a figure, hands in pockets, standing still and silent and facing the road. The figure’s face was hidden in darkness. A darkness that was oddly not affected by the light of the lamppost directly overhead. Emily leaned closer to the window in an attempt to discern the identify of the individual. Her hand slowly made its way to the window’s handle to push open the window to see the figure more clearly.

  And it was that movement, maybe even the intention in her head to do so, that made the figure lift its head up. At Emily.

  The light shone onto the face.

  Emily chocked on her breath.

  It was her father. It was Fred.

  Emily coughed abruptly and hunched over to control herself. DAD? What the hell is he-?

  She instantly turned back to the window.

  But he was nowhere to be seen. Gone, like a smoke in the wind. What. The. Hell?

  The sheer shock of this sight, the fatigue of her journey and the revelations from the last couple of days proved too much for Emily to handle. Tiredness took a hold of her. It was a hallucination, it had to be. She turned on her heel, with the last thought of her father drifting through her mind, and slammed face first onto her bed.

  As it turned out, waking up early was not appreciated by all three party members. Emily awoke hanging halfway out of the bed. Her legs dangled over the edge. She rested her hands on the bed and her head hung low. She was still reeling from her dream/nightmare/experience the night before. That was all she could think of.

  Donn was already up. The bathroom door opened and he entered the room, rubbing a small towel all over his wet hair. He was dressed in his usual attire. But his expression, which suggested a light and regularly interrupted sleep due to pestering thoughts, was dour and grim.

  “Morning.” was all he could utter as he pulled his briefcase out from under his bed. He sat down onto bed and started going through it, searching for something. He found it quickly by lifting out a Memento Mori coin. He waved it at Emily.

  “This here is my coin. I always keep it on me just in case.”

  “In case of what?” Emily rubbed her eyes. She was restless but intrigued all the same.

  “Well, fair enough, I don’t really need this to do my job. I can do it with my eyes closed. But this will give me a better edge to absolutely determine where the soul is. Call it my amplifier.”

  Once the pair were dressed and ready, they headed out of their room and down the corridor. Fresca paced her way behind them with narrow eyes and a low growl made with every step she was forced to make. Fresca seemed determined to make her discomfort known to the world.

  Reaching the lobby, they saw Beelzebub, standing behind his desk as always but in a fervent discussion with a figure dressed in a grey flannel suit with grey flat soled shoes and a grey fedora hat. Even more remarkably, (and how that word seemed to lose its novelty with the increasing manner of such stupefying events that unfolded before Emily) the man’s skin colour, hair colour and eye colour were all monotone as well. This was a man, in Emily’s judged opinion, who was seemingly lifted directly from the films of the 1930s.

  “And that is my opinion on the subject.” concluded Beelzebub. “The chicken came first.”

  “Ah. But think on it…” replied the grey man with soft eloquence, “If the chicken came first, then how? It had to have come from somewhere. Consider that perhaps the dinosaur laid the egg. And within the egg, a change occurred. Whether by mutation, evolution, decision or Time, the egg’s embryo formed into something other than a lizard. Into something else. Into a bird. Into a chicken. Therefore, the egg came first.”

  Beelzebub scratched his head, trying to understand the man’s meaning. But failing that, he scowled. “Man, I hate you. You obviously know what came first. Hell, you were most likely there, orchestrating it with all your little newfangled toys!”

  The grey man shrugged modestly, but his eyes betrayed a hint of pride. “Perhaps. But note, I enjoyed our discussion. It was enlightening to see another’s point of view. Especially one’s as frenetic and energetic as yours.”

  “Fair enough.” Beelzebub glanced at Donn and lit up with such professionalism. “Well well! Good morning, Donn. Look who’s here.”

  The grey man waved his hand in mildest protest as he turned to Donn and Emily. “Oh.. Oh.. Not for long. Only for a few minutes to get out of the sunlight. Just to…ruminate.” The grey man then walked towards Donn.

  They shook hands with a soft grip. “It is a pleasure to see you again, old friend.” said the grey man.

  “Likewise.” Donn affirmed, then he gestured to Emily. “This is Emily. A… companion on a job that I’m working on.”

  The grey man waved his hand in similar modest fashion. “Please… Donn, I already know. There is no need for half-truths. Death informed me of the sordid affair in the Deathlands.”

  “Oh really?” Donn smirked. “Not surprising, given who you are.”

  “And who are you, to be exact?” Emily asked, once again sick of being kept out of the loop.

  The grey man smiled and bowed his head. “Dear child… I am Chronos. The Elemental of Time.”

  Emily raised her eyebrow. Of course you are… “Huh. Well, alright then.”

  Chronos smiled with warmth. “You are not surprised?”

  Emily shrugged. “Mate, it takes a lot for me to be surprised by anything anymore. I figured just going with the flow seems the best course of action to maintain some sanity in all this craziness. Donn tells me there are angels and demons having tea and cake in the lobby. World ending monsters having baths and manicures in their rooms. And Beelzebub is the bloody receptionist. As I said, it’s taking a lot to surprise me now.”

  “Indeed. One must accept one’s path and one’s world in order to fully enjoy both to the last second.” Chronos then glanced at the lobby’s clock. “And that’s all the time we have to talk now. You’d should be on your way, or you’ll be late for your picnic. Best of luck. Good day.”

  Chronos passed by Emily and headed up the stairs with one careful step at a time. He moved at a such a pace because he knew the world would always wait for him. Or perhaps he knew he never had to hurry for anything at all…

  Emily turned her head up at Chronos. “Hold up. If I asked you what’s going to happen right now, you wouldn't tell us. Would you.”

  Chronos continued his slow ascent without wasting a second by looking back.

  “No one in the entirety of the Multiverse enjoys spoilers, Emily Davidson. I wish the six of you the best of luck.”

  What that said, Chronos disappeared up the stairs before Emily could be able to ask the Elemental what ‘six of them’ he meant.