2. Deus
2
DEUS
I approach the group of new arrivals, their disorientation hanging in the air like a thick fog. The redhead's eyes lock onto mine, a spark of defiance amidst the fear. As I draw closer, I catch fragments of their hushed conversation.
"This can't be real," a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit mutters. "I was just on the subway and then–"
"Quiet," the redhead hisses. "We don't know where we are."
I clear my throat, causing them to jump. "Welcome to Slim's Last Chance," I say, my voice a low rumble. "I'm Deus. And you're right to be cautious."
The group exchanges nervous glances. The redhead steps forward, chin raised. "Where exactly is this place?"
I allow a small smirk to play across my lips. "That's a more complicated question than you might think. Follow me."
As we weave through the crowded bar, I feel their eyes darting around, taking in the otherworldly clientele. A pair of demons argue over a game of poker, their tails twitching in agitation. A group of translucent souls huddle in a corner, sipping shimmering cocktails.
We reach a secluded booth, and I wave them into the plush, obsidian seats. The redhead remains standing, arms crossed. "You didn't answer my question," she says.
I raise an eyebrow, impressed by her audacity. "You're in my establishment. The rest... well, that's something you'll need to figure out for yourselves."
The middle-aged man slumps in his seat. "Are we... dead?"
I consider him for a moment. "What's your name?"
"Robert," he replies, his voice barely a whisper.
"Well, Robert, how do you feel?"
He blinks, surprised by the question. "I... I don't know. Confused. Scared. But also... light? Like I've left something behind."
I nod. "And the rest of you?"
The youngest, barely out of his teens, pipes up. "I feel the same. Like I'm here, but also... not?"
"Interesting," I muse. "And you?" I turn to the redhead.
She narrows her eyes. "I feel like I'm being led in circles. What is this place? Who are you really?"
I can't help but chuckle. "Direct, aren't you? I've already told you who I am. As for this place... it's a waystation of sorts."
"A waystation to where?" she presses.
"That depends on you," I reply. I gesture to Lilith, who brings over a tray of drinks. "Here. You look like you could use these."
As Lilith sets down the glasses, filled with a liquid that seems to shift colors in the light, I notice the youngest eyeing the drink with fascination.
I turn back to the redhead, who's still watching me with suspicion. "You seem to be taking this better than your companions," I observe. "Have you encountered anything... unusual before?"
She hesitates, then shrugs. "Let's just say I've always had a sense that there's more to the world than most people realize. But this... this is something else entirely."
"Indeed it is," I agree. "Now, why don't you all take a moment to collect yourselves? When you're ready, we can discuss what comes next."
As I turn to leave, the redhead calls out, "Wait. You still haven't really explained anything."
I pause, considering my words carefully. "Sometimes, explanations are overrated. Right now, you're in a place between places. What happens next is largely up to you. Observe. Think. And when you're ready, ask the right questions."
With that, I make my way back to the bar, leaving them to grapple with their new reality. As I go, I can't shake the feeling that this group, especially the redhead, might be more than they appear.
I make my way back to the bar, leaving the new arrivals to grapple with their situation. The redhead's eyes follow me, a mix of suspicion and curiosity in her gaze.
Lilith sidles up to me, her serpentine tattoos writhing across her skin. "Those new ones are causing quite a stir," she says, nodding towards a group of regulars who are eyeing the newcomers with interest.
"Keep an eye on them," I mutter. "Especially the redhead. There's something different about her."
Lilith's forked tongue flicks out, tasting the air. "I sense it too. She's got a spark about her."
Our conversation is interrupted by a crash from the other end of the bar. I look up to see Gremory, a pint-sized demon with an oversized attitude, standing on the bar top, his wings flapping erratically.
"I demand another drink!" he screeches, his high-pitched voice carrying across the room. "And make it a double!"
I sigh, making my way over. "Gremory, we've talked about this. No standing on the bar."
The tiny demon puffs up his chest. "I am a Duke of Hell! I'll stand wherever I please!"
"Duke or not, you're about to be a patron of the sidewalk if you don't behave," I growl, my eyes flashing crimson.
Gremory deflates, plopping down on the bar. "Fine, fine. But I still want that drink."
"One Hellfire Highball, coming up," I say, mixing the drink with practiced ease. As I slide it towards Gremory, I notice a shimmer in the air next to him.
"Evening, Whisper," I say, addressing the seemingly empty space. "The usual?"
The air ripples, and a translucent figure materializes on the barstool. Whisper, a spirit so shy she spends most of her time invisible, nods silently.
I prepare her favorite, the Spirit Spritzer, a concoction that sparkles and fizzes in the glass. As I set it down, Whisper's soft voice reaches my ears. "There's something strange in the air tonight, Deus. Can you feel it?"
I nod, my eyes drifting back to the newcomers. "I feel it. Change is coming."
As I turn back to the bar, I nearly collide with Mammon, who appears silently at my elbow. "Boss," he says, his golden eyes glinting. "We've got a situation in the back room. The Fates are arguing over the last slice of infinity pizza."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Can't they just split it three ways? They're supposed to be all-knowing, for hell's sake."
Mammon shrugs. "You know how they get. Clotho's threatening to unravel Lachesis's thread if she doesn't back off."
"Fine, I'll handle it," I grumble. But before I can move, a commotion at the entrance catches my attention.
Azrael's shadowy form looms larger than usual as he blocks the path of a group of glowing figures trying to push their way in.
Angels.
Perfect.
I make my way to the door, placing a hand on Azrael's shoulder. "I'll handle this," I tell him. Turning to the angels, I put on my most diplomatic smile. "Gentlemen, ladies, to what do we owe the pleasure?"
A tall angel with golden wings steps forward, his face a mask of disdain. "Deus," he says, his voice dripping with barely concealed contempt. "We have reason to believe you're harboring souls that don't belong here."
I raise an eyebrow. "That's a rather vague accusation. Care to be more specific?"
Another angel, this one with silver wings, chimes in. "There's been a disturbance in the cosmic balance. Souls that were meant for judgment have gone missing. Our intelligence suggests they ended up here."
I make a show of looking around the bar. "As you can see, we have many patrons here. Souls from all walks of life... and death. If you're looking for someone specific, I'm afraid you'll have to be more precise."
The golden-winged angel's eyes narrow. "Don't play games with us, Deus. You know as well as we do that this place exists in a loophole. But even you can't harbor souls indefinitely. They must face judgment eventually."
I feel my temper flare, the flames in my hair flickering to life. "And they will, when they're ready. But while they're here, they're under my protection. Neutral ground, remember? Or does the heavenly host no longer respect the ancient accords?"
The angels exchange uneasy glances. Finally, the silver-winged one speaks. "We'll be watching, Deus. This isn't over."
"It never is," I reply coolly. "Now, unless you'd like to come in for a drink, I suggest you leave. You're making my patrons nervous."
With a final glare, the angels depart in a flash of holy light. I turn back to the bar, my mind racing. If the angels are involved, the situation with the new arrivals might be more complicated than I thought.
I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting indeed.