Happily Ever Awkward (The H.E.A. Files, #1)(36)

Sandwiched between all the myriad Netherhells, there existed an inter-dimensional connective tissue known as Limbo. Limbo is/was an indeterminate space where progress is/was a meaningless concept just as it is/was/would be in a rather unpleasant place known as the DMV.





Worrt the Demon hovered amid clouds of luminous aether while he turned his map in different directions, trying to make sense of it. To be fair, his confusion wasn’t the map’s fault. Little made sense in that place, for Limbo was a realm without form, function, or recognizable landmarks.

It was a place people went when they didn’t know where else to go.

It was a place people went when they knew where to go but lacked the wherewithal to get there.

It was a place people went when they didn’t care where they had to go.

It was a place people went when they were too stubborn or lazy to be bothered with anything else.

It was a place of avoiding.

A place of uncertainty.

It was a place of rambling—





You get the idea.





One tended to lose quite a bit of time in Limbo while seeking a sign to move on.

Or a signpost.

Worrt could find neither, so he finally broke down and asked for directions. Unfortunately, the Demon did not realize those who dwell in Limbo have no idea how to leave but are more than happy to give advice.

“Ya done took a wrong turn back around Netherhell 146,” said the ethereal image of an old man, his foggy finger stabbing at Worrt’s map. “Boy, you come almost infinity outta yer way—”

The ghostly silhouette of an old woman cut off the old man, saying, “You need to hop two astral planes over, but if you reach oblivion, you’ve gone too far—”

“Not that way,” groused the old man ghost. “You’ll just confuse the boy—”

“Hush,” said the old woman ghost.

And this went on and on and on.

Worrt simmered and seethed. He was about to do something drastic.

But then he began to feel it might be more prudent to wait a bit before taking any unnecessary action. He didn’t have any place he needed to be. No sense rushing into anything…





25



THE SHADOWKEEP


The Shadowship soared through a bank of clouds the way a throwing knife soars through a solar plexus.

Seeboth was in a hurry to get home. The princess’ reaction upon learning about his plans for her had left him somewhat shaken for reasons he didn’t fully comprehend. He hoped relocating Princess Luscious from her cell on the Shadowship to a slightly larger cell in his home would put her in a better frame of mind and a much happier mood.

He desperately wanted to see Smile Number 33 again.

They had traveled far to the south, and as the ship sliced through yet another ridge of clouds, their destination finally hove into view: a small, uncharted, out-of-the-way island. Its key points of interest included a foul lagoon framed by an unpleasant arc of beach, one ruined outhouse, a single large rock with a cave under it, and one massive tower that stood one hundred stories tall.

The island had no name.

The tower was called the Shadowkeep.

A featureless black cylinder, the Shadowkeep glistened as if perpetually wet, a unique characteristic of the gorgeous waterblack granite from which it had been constructed. The tower stood upon the island’s single outcropping of rock, and the cave in the base of the rock appeared to be its only entrance, for no other openings, neither windows nor doors, marred the vertical surface of the tower.

The flat expanse of the Shadowkeep’s roof would have provided a stunning view of the surrounding area had there been anything stunning to see, but unfortunately the tower stood in the midst of a great deal of nothing and overlooked a whole lot of disappointment. A ladder descended through a hole in the middle of the roof, providing the only access into and out of the tower from above.

A flight of stairs projected from the edge of the roof like an angled bridge, extending outward and upward for twenty yards to end at a circular platform. The entire configuration looked very much as if the tower were extending an arm toward heaven, palm open and waiting for a gift. Empty space yawned beneath the platform, a platform which was held in position by nothing more than the freestanding staircase connecting it to the tower. Normally, this platform was used for docking the Shadowship — which was precisely what the Dawnslayer was doing at that moment — but the platform now served a secondary purpose.

A stone altar had been positioned there, and long, heavy chains draped it like Gothic streamers.

Princess Luscious said not a word as Seeboth escorted her down the gangplank onto the platform. He tried to break the ice forming between them by pointing out the features of the platform.

“You see, my dear?” he said. “I built that altar just to sacrifice you.”

“Really,” Princess Luscious said. She stopped and turned to face him. “Well, I think this might best describe my sentiments.”

She spat in his face.

Demog’s hand appeared from nowhere, snapping like a cobra, and snatched the gob of spittle from the air.

“Thank you, Demog,” Seeboth said. Then, barely containing himself, he bellowed, “Jeremy!”

Jeremy the Zombie shuffled up the stairs to Seeboth, but when he noticed Seeboth’s mood, he began to speed-shuffle.