To The Unbetween

Chapter Two

The giant demon - because seriously, what else could he be? - grinned at Mike’s words. His teeth were straight, white, and very, very sharp. Like a shark, Mike thought to herself, intrigued despite her terror.

“Well, Michelle Bolten,” He sing-songed Mike’s name, “Your friend Steven has decided to take the family business upon himself.”

Steve winced, “I’m an i***t, I know. Just get on with it.”

The red demon-man smirked, continuing. “That is to say, his family serves me, Alistair the Red, master of the Unbetween.”

Sam and Mike turned their heads and glared at Steve accusingly. “Your family serves a demon?” Sam shouted. “The hell, man?”

Their one-eyed friend shrugged sheepishly.

Alistair cleared his throat loudly, regaining their attention. “Yes, yes, we’ve established that Steven is a moron, now, back to me.” Mike got the feeling that this guy only really cared about one thing; himself. “I am quite angered that some mere mortal would take my minion,” here Steven rolled his eyes, “away from me, and so I want you three to avenge his death by dealing with the little pests.”

Mike crossed her arms and stared at the demon with a challenging look, her fright momentarily forgotten. “This isn’t going to be good,” Sam muttered quietly to Steve.

“And just how are we supposed to take these guys out? We don’t really have anything to get the job done.” she asked him, scowling.

Alistair chuckled. “I’m going to supply you with what you need to get the job done.” He snapped his hands and an ornate looking pen appeared in Sam’s hand. “For Samson,”

He looked at it, unimpressed. “A pen. How does this help us with anything?” The demon grinned, and made a clicking motion with his clawed fingers. Sam clicked it and shrieked in surprise when a very thin, very sharp rapier sword’s blade shot out where a pen tip might be. “Okay, I take it back, this is awesome,” Sam said, giving it an experimental swish. Steve and Mike looked at it, impressed.

“Now, Michelle,” Mike’s eyes lit up, and a scythe appeared in her grip. It was tall, nearly seven feet (a whole two feet taller than Mike herself), and it’s silver blade was edged with gold. Two silver skulls the size of baby's heads were welded to the top. Mike let out a low whistle.

“Damn, that’s a good weapon,” she muttered to herself, “Not too heavy, either.”

“And, for Steven…” Alistair drew himself up dramatically, raising his arms. Steve waited in apprehension. “Nothing,” Steve deflated, staring at the demon in disappointment and shock while Sam and Mike cackled in the background.

“N-nothing?” Steve repeated, not sure that he heard the demon right.

“Nothing,” Alistair confirmed with a nod of his great horned head. “You will develop the basic ghostly powers as time progresses. Any human weapons that you use will just weigh you down.”

“But,” the pale haired ghost began to protest, but thought better of it and kept his mouth shut.

Alistair gave a maniacal laugh, and poofed out of existence, leaving the three friends, two humans and a ghost, alone in the Unbetween.

“So,” Sam said after a moment of silence, “what do we do now?”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“This is boring,” Steve complained as he floated alongside his two friends. Mike stopped dead in her tracks, and Sam rammed into her. She pushed him aside and focused on the ghost of their friend.

“First,” she snarled at him, “It’s your fault that we’re down here in the first place! If the stupid demon didn’t want to solve your murder so bad, we wouldn’t be stuck in this hell hole!”

“It’s not my fault I died,” Steve protested weakly.

Mike’s dark grey eyes narrowed. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t decided to serve a demon overlord, you wouldn’t be dead, ever think about that?”

Steve grumbled something unintelligible. Mike was about to make yet another retort, but the bickering was cut off by a rustling from around one of the yellow stalagmites. The three friends braced themselves for what came next.

“Mew?”

“What the f**k?” Sam stepped forward and into a crouch, reaching towards a small black and white kitten that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. “Do cats just, like, roam demon domains?” He glanced towards Steve, who shrugged.

“I have no clue.”

“You’re the demonic expert,” Mike reminded him, “Sam and I really don’t know anything, you at least grew up in this weird religion.”

“Dude, I was only twenty three when I died,” Steve defended himself. “I did not get far enough to learn about what creatures may or may not roam my Master’s realm. Don’t,” he pointed at Sam with a snarl, “say anything or make comments.” He paused and took a breath before continuing. “And it’s not a religion, it is a cult.”

“At least you’re self aware,” Sam said, patting him on the shoulder. He was holding the tuxedo cat like a baby, and the creature purred happily in his arms. “Ohhhh, she’s just a baby,” he cooed.

Mike exchanged a disgusted glance with her dead friend.

“Do you know where that cat’s been?” She asked him, watching as the little cat purred. It lay on it’s back in Sam’s arms with its tiny - and admittedly adorable - paws pulsing the air in front of it. Sam shot a lazy grin in their direction before returning his attention to the kitten.

“Nope,” he stated bluntly, not caring in the slightest. He’d always had a weak spot for cats, and had been known to have strays follow him on his way to and from school. “Should I be more concerned about the fact that you’re worried about a cat and not, say, the ten thousand foot demon, our best friend’s ghost appearing from beyond the grave seeking vengeance?” 

“I fully believe that none of this is real,” she stated calmly as she planted the base of her scythe into the yellow dirt beneath them. She leaned against it and c****d an eyebrow at him. “I’m passed out drunk on my couch. This is my way of processing grief.” That, or she was having a complete and total psychological breakdown, which she really didn't want to deal with at the moment, thank you very much.

Steve grumbled something under his breath as Mike shot him a teasing smirk. She was briefly reminded of their lunch-time banter during their high school days, long before Steve was dead and before the friends had begun to drift apart.

“Well, I may or may not have acquired some devils lettuce from Steve’s apartment when the fam let us in to get some things,” Sam admitted. “So, you know, same deal but with weed.”

“Do you remember the time we got a hold of your older brother’s shrooms and hiked the trail behind the gym?”  Steve reminisced in a fond voice after a moment of silence. The three friends cracked. Laughter began to fill the air of the empty cavern, accompanied by the sound of the little cat’s purr. 

Sam allowed the cat to perch itself on his shoulder, and the three began walking aimlessly. Given that the entirety of the landscape they’d seen so far seemed to be identical, it was nearly impossible to know what direction they were actually going, although Steve seemed to have some vague idea - possibly an instinct - of where to go.

As they walked, it gave Mike the opportunity to take in the day's events. She supposed she might be in shock; even if this was a drug and/or alcohol induced dream it wasn’t often that you got to see and speak to your friends after attending their funeral. She glanced back towards Sam, who was vibing with the little cat - he’d announced to them that her new name was Helen - before she returned her gaze to Steve and frowned.

“What?” he asked, glancing sideways at her with his good eye. Her frown deepened.

“I’m just wondering if the eye is, like, a statement piece for ghosts. Or cultist ghosts.” Steve felt around his empty eye socket thoughtfully, stopping to float in place. Mike and Sam came to a halt beside him, and watched as Steve experimentally covered and uncovered his good eye.

“Well,” he said. “I think whoever killed me might have, uh, taken it with them.” 

“Like, while you were still alive?” Sam asked, eyes blowing wide. “I mean, you were found dead in a ditch, there’s really no telling how they treated you before.” Steve shrugged.

“Not sure about that, I’ll put a pin in it. But I could see out of it just a second ago, when I had my other eye covered.”

Mike grinned and hoisted her scythe in her hands. 

“Does this mean we know where we’re going? And who I get to beat the s**t out of?”

Steve smiled sharply.

“Yes.”