Eddie Lancaster Box Set 2, page 46
part #4 of Eddie Lancaster Series
‘Ashley,’ I said. She smiled fondly as she bounced towards me, her face lighting up. ‘How are you… here?’ I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t move and instead remained on the floor, my head turned her way.
‘You’re fading, Eddie. You’re between worlds now,’ she said. I wanted so badly to touch her, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to. Not yet. But soon.
‘I tried to bring you back,’ I told her. I didn’t want her to think I’d just accepted her death. I needed her to know how broken I was without her.
‘I know, but I don’t want to come back. I’ve found peace and you will too. Maybe not at first but you will. All your pain, all your anguish. It all stays here when you make it to the end. I’ll see you on the other side.’ Her voice was like music. A sound I’d been without for so long. I could hardly see through my tears. I managed to move my arm and I reached out to her in vain as she turned and faded away.
Well, that just leaves you now, reader. I’ve said my goodbyes to everyone else. Unless you’re going to be annoying enough to follow me into the afterlife. You probably will. You’ve followed me this far. I don’t think we got on so well in the beginning. I was always so rude to you, but you’ve stuck with me, so you must’ve liked it. Like some kind of sadist. Or is it masochist? I can’t remember. I don’t care either. Everything is so… foggy right now. I haven’t really spoken to you much this time, have I? You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve been grieving my dead girlfriend. I haven’t really felt like myself at all. Still, it’s been a great ride, right? Ha, ha.
Well, you’re probably expecting some great heroic rescue now. Somehow someone will come and save me. Maybe someone will turn up with a spot of ambrosia and make me immortal. Well, forget—
Chapter Forty-One
The news crew stared down from the helicopter making sure they caught every moment of the action on camera. They watched as Eddie lay on his back, his whole body glowing with fiery red magic. His lips were moving, though nobody could see who he was talking to. Then he was gone.
The power burst out of Eddie in an explosion of fire that pulverised his body to nothing in an instant. The fiery explosion of magic shot straight up into the air and incinerated the helicopter that had so annoyed Eddie. It flew outwards and swamped Cedarstone High Street destroying every shop, every car, every person stupid enough not to have heeded the evacuation call. The explosion could be seen almost right across Kent. Cedarstone town centre was devastated. Once the magic had finished tearing through everything, nothing remained but dust. Arthur and the sorcerers managed to contain the magic to the town centre but there was nothing they could do to save it. The High Street and the surrounding area was nothing more than a barren wasteland. And just like that, in one afternoon the supernatural was exposed to the world and nothing would ever be the same again.
A service for Eddie was held at the Muggleton Inn on Maidstone High Street. After hearing about his sacrifice, Bobby changed his mind about the deceased warlock. There was nothing to bury so no funeral was held, just a wake at the pub. Gabe arranged everything and all his vampires turned up. Matt and Emma returned from Manchester to mourn their friend. Annabelle came to deliver a teary goodbye. Former clients came to pay their respects. Detective Chief Inspector Richards even showed his face, not that he had any kind words to say, he sat grumpily in the corner drinking.
Gabe tinged his glass for silence and jumped up on the bar to deliver a speech for his former boss and friend. Bobby glared up at him but did not complain about his forwardness. The door opened as his speech started and Arthur Winters entered with Dean Tenson and Shirley Demelza. Gabe smiled to them as if they were old friends and then began his speech.
‘Eddie was everything to me. He gave me a purpose, he gave my life direction. He saved me when everyone else had abandoned me. He gave me a second chance at life. I loved him. Eddie Lancaster was…’ he paused, trying to think of a way to summarise one of the most annoying, difficult and yet lovable people he’d ever met.
‘He was a hero,’ Arthur finished for him. Shirley nodded in agreement. ‘He was a rude, cocky, annoying, deceitful and downright stupid pain in the arse, but in the end, he was a hero.’
Gabe lifted his glass up. ‘Eddie Lancaster. Hero!’ he said loudly.
Every glass in the pub went up too. ‘Eddie Lancaster!’
THE END
Chapter One
It didn’t hurt. Dying. I mean it did hurt. A lot, in fact. But once the magic was done literally ripping my body apart it didn’t hurt anymore. So, yes, dying did hurt, but once the actual death bit was done it was like the pain had never even happened in the first place.
Cedarstone disappeared behind a wall of shimmering red magic that erupted up all around me. It erupted from within me. As soon as that happened the pain was gone. Just like that. The click of a finger. For a second or two I was still there, somehow. Even though my body was destroyed, I remained there in that place. And then the place was gone. Redness was followed by darkness. Explosions were followed by silence. And then…
I was somewhere else. A room. It was still silent. I was sitting which meant I had a body again. I looked down at my legs. I definitely had a body. Was I still alive? No, I was some kind of spirit now. I’d passed over. I looked around for Ashley. She said she’d see me on the other side, but she was not here.
I was in what looked like a doctor’s waiting room. About thirty of those cheap-looking chairs that primary schools have lined three of the walls, with another ten placed in the middle of the room back to back. I was in one of the chairs in the middle. Almost every chair had somebody sitting in it. Nobody looked sick. They were all waiting in silence, and all of them looked apprehensive. I was pretty apprehensive myself. Being dead will do that.
The wall at the front of the room had five plain brown doors. I wondered what the hell was going on. As if to answer my question the number sixty-seven appeared in glowing red numbers above the third door. A lady in the corner of the room stood up nervously. She glanced at her palm and then up at the number above the door. She looked around the room as if looking for someone to tell her what to do. Nobody did. There was no staff. Only people waiting. With a look of resignation, she shuffled off and entered the room. I tried to catch a glimpse through the door but saw absolutely nothing. It looked like she’d walked into a plain white room. The door closed quietly behind her and she was gone.
I raised my own hand and stared at my palm. As I suspected there was a number that looked like it had been burned into my flesh. Sixty-nine. I sniggered. The tufty, grey-haired man to my right turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. I showed him my palm.
‘Ah,’ he said, and gave me a wink. Then he checked his own. ’73,’ he said with disappointment.
‘Do you know much about this place?’ I asked, hopefully. Silly really, it wasn’t like he could’ve been sitting here long enough to know much more than I did.
He shook his head. ‘Some kind of purgatory I guess. We sit and wait to go into those rooms where I assume we will be judged.’
‘Fun,’ I muttered. I did not relish the idea of being judged. I hadn’t liked it much when I was alive and I knew I wouldn’t like it any more in death. I’d probably like it less on account of the consequences being far more permanent and totally out of my control.
‘May I ask how you died?’ he said, leaning in closer.
‘Why not?’ I answered. ‘I absorbed so much magic that my body exploded. Well, I think it exploded. I couldn’t really see what happened and I died pretty much as soon as it did happen.’
He looked up at the ceiling. ‘I didn’t even know magic was real,’ he said sadly. ‘Imagine that. You were out living your young life, enjoying magic, knowing all the secrets of the world, and I had no idea any of that even existed. How boring my life must seem to you.’ He let out a small laugh. I was about to agree with him, but then I stopped. It was bad enough that he was dead without me making it seem like his life had been crap too.
‘Did you enjoy your life?’ I asked.
He considered the question for a moment, his head tilted to one side. ‘Yes, I suppose I did. I don’t have many regrets so I guess that’s a good thing.’
‘It doesn’t matter what you didn’t know then. You had a good life.’
Sixty-eight appeared on the wall and another person got up and went through one of the doors.
‘Did you enjoy your life?’ Now there was a complicated question. It had been easy for him to answer. Not so much for me.
‘Some of it,’ I told him. ‘I think maybe I would’ve enjoyed it more if I hadn’t known about magic. It would have been a lot simpler.’
‘Hindsight, eh?’ he chortled.
‘How did you die?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, you know. I was sitting in the conservatory reading the paper when the ground sort of… rumbled and then everything turned red. And then I was here.’
The small amount of pleasure I’d been getting out of the conversation dissipated in a heartbeat. ‘Where did you live?’ I asked him in a quiet voice. I knew what he was going to say.
‘Cedarstone. It’s in Kent,’ he said proudly. I looked around the room and wondered if all these people had been killed by me. Were they all from Cedarstone? How far had the magic spread if it had killed this old man in his home? It was supposed to have been just the high street that got hit. That’s why the high street had been evacuated.
My hand tingled and I saw my number appear above the first door. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to the old man. He looked at me in confusion and shook his head. I didn’t wait to hear his reply. I got up and strode through the first door without even thinking about what might lie waiting on the other side for me.
It was an office. A plain, somewhat shabby, office. The magnolia walls were plain. The only furniture was a large wooden desk that a had a chair behind it and a chair in front. The chair in front was the same as the crappy ones from the waiting room. The one behind was an executive, high-backed, leather chair. In the nice chair sat a small man who looked like he was severely over-worked. He looked up at me, his monobrow lifting slightly in greeting. He indicated the chair and then waited for me to sit down. I did as I was bid, noticing that the chair was very low so that I was looking up at him. I wasn’t going to have that. I pointed my fingers down at the chair legs, willing them to elongate, but nothing happened.
‘You don’t have magic here. Perhaps you will be granted magic again in your afterlife. That depends on how your judgement goes,’ he said in a weary voice. He was clearly not that interested in his job. Maybe an eternity of doing it dulled the experience.
‘I thought Saint Peter took care of judging people. I mean no offence, but you don’t strike me as Saint Peter. Or Saint anyone for that matter,’ I said. His eyebrow rose higher on his forehead.
‘Insulting your judgment officer?’ he said quizzically. ‘Foolhardy.’
‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ I said quickly, hoping to salvage the conversation. ‘I’m just a bit nervous. You know, being dead and all can do that to a guy.’
He nodded. ‘I understand. Don’t worry, this will not affect your judgement. As for Saint Peter, he does not reside in this realm. Now, let us begin.’
I wanted to question him further on that but thought better of potentially irritating the man who was about to judge my deeds. If Saint Peter wasn’t in this realm then which realm was I in?
Before him on the desk was a manilla file that was absolutely bulging with papers of a variety of colours. I saw whites, oranges, reds, yellows and a couple of greens. He lifted open the cover and stared down at the first page. I could not see it on account of my chair being so low. I did see his brow furrow as he studied whatever was written there. ‘Two in one shift,’ he muttered to himself. Then he shook his head. He closed the file and then looked back at me. ‘It seems you have not been assigned to me after all.’ He stood up.
‘Who have I been assigned to?’ I knew it wasn’t Saint Peter.
‘Come,’ he said. I followed him through the door and we reentered the waiting room. The old man was gone now. The people that were there looked up eagerly, wondering what was going on. They probably weren’t used to people coming out of the rooms. The officer turned right and led me down a long plain looking corridor. I wondered why everything was so boring in this place. Had God put them on a tight budget or something? I know the Bible espoused modesty and humbleness but this was just depressing. I could not remain in surroundings like this for eternity. I’d take the fires of Hell any day. It occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t even think things like that. I mentally retracted the thought.
At the end of the corridor was an elevator. Shiny gold doors were fixed in the wall in complete juxtaposition with the shabbiness of the rest of the place. The elevator doors looked beautiful. I could see my reflection in them. I could really do with a haircut, I thought.
The officer pressed the button and the doors opened on a mirrored elevator cart with a beautiful marble floor. Now this was more like it. I stepped inside the elevator and turned to see the officer was not coming with me. He looked at me the way someone looks at his friend when he knows he’s in the shit.
‘What?’ I said, suddenly nervous. ‘Where am I going?’ He flashed me a nervous smile that did not comfort me in the least.
‘Good luck,’ he said. And then the doors slid shut.
Chapter Two
I didn’t feel the elevator move whatsoever, and yet after a few seconds, the doors slid open onto the biggest hall I had ever seen. It was the throne room of a god. A white marble floor stretched out for about a hundred feet. Golden pillars soared up way above, holding up the ceiling which had been enchanted to resemble a beautiful blue sky complete with fluffy white clouds. It was the perfect picture of a summer’s sky. At the head of the room atop a high dais, stood a white glowing throne that looked like it was made of pure light. As enticing as it was, it looked like it would destroy anybody who sat in it. Anybody apart from the man who was already sitting in the throne.
He was tall even for a seated person. He sat straight, his chin slightly elevated. Both arms rested on the arms of the throne, his fingers draped over their fronts. Luscious golden locks hung down from his flawless face. Keen, bright eyes stared down at me as I shuffled into the room.
There was another figure standing behind the throne but I could only make out the shape of him as the throne was shining so brightly.
I turned back to the elevator, considering leaving again. Something about the man on the throne made me uneasy. I couldn’t tell if it was the unnatural perfection of his appearance or the cold silent exudation of power. To my dismay, the door was no longer there and only a golden wall stood behind me.
‘Come,’ the man said. His voice was gentle but commanding. I squared my shoulders in an attempt to look as confident as possible and strode determinedly across the hall. The man sat perfectly still, his eyes never leaving me, his expression never changing. My shoes clip-clopped on the marble, the sound rebounding around me.
As I passed the last set of pillars I saw a fourth person. There was a man chained to the back of the pillar on my right, so only those on the throne side of the room would be able to see him. My blood burned in my veins at the sight of my grandfather, Nickolas Blackwood. Despite being restrained against the pillar, he stood defiantly. His chin was raised, his jaw was set and his eyes had a look of cold hatred in them as he stared at the throned man. As I came into view he turned his head my way. His expression did not soften when he saw me. His top lip curled into a snarl and it was then that I saw the golden stitching that was holding his lips together. If Nickolas was here and he was clearly under duress then I guessed this was not Heaven. And if this was not Heaven then the man sitting in the throne was most likely…
‘He had a reputation for having a silver tongue when he was alive. He tried to use his gift on me. I found it less than effective. Tedious, if anything. I much prefer him now,’ the throned man said lyrically.
‘You can’t trust a word he says anyway. All he does is lie,’ I replied. I gave Nick a final gloating smile and then turned away.
‘His lies do not fool me. No lies do. After all, they do call me the father of lies. Not that I have ever told a single lie. Propaganda.
‘I will profess that I had not expected to meet Nickolas Blackwood for some time yet. I have you to thank for his early arrival, Edward Lancaster.’ He dipped his head ever so slightly at me.
‘You’re welcome, I suppose. Just a shame I had to follow him here,’ I said.
‘Indeed,’ the man said slowly, ponderously. ‘But that is enough about him. His judgement has been passed and it did not go in his favour. I have met many bad souls in my time ruling the Realm of the Dead, but there are very few whose bad deeds outweigh their good as Nickolas’ do. Very few indeed. I wonder how you shall fair, Eddie.’
‘If I’m in Hell and you’re going to judge me, I guess you must be Satan?’ I asked him. It was quite obvious I should not have said that. His eyes widened in repugnant disbelief. The entire room seemed to darken as if a storm cloud had fallen over it. A hideous howl filled the room and a force slammed into me from behind, forcing me down to my knees. Even though I was already dead I felt the pain as the marble floor slammed into my knees.
