Morris Alejandro. Sixteen. A pretty good, studious, but badly asthmatic kid in Los Angeles! Not a good combination. It also wasn’t a good idea to be in the wrong neighbourhood at the wrong time. Morris wasn’t a gang member, and he wasn’t to hip to the codes, colours or territories of the gangs. He was a good, academic kid.
He was a lightweight Spanish-Mexican teen. A good target for a lot of people on the shadier side of the tracks! On the way to the bakery, he got pulled into an alley, and found himself surrounded by five members of the Piru Street Boys. After being beat up to the point of unconsciousness, and being divested of his thirty dollars, he was thrown into a trash dumpster. He would not survive to the day of being picked up and thrown into the garbage truck. Hey! It happened every day. Several times a day, in fact! Every major city in the U.S.! Morris was just another statistic. The cops wouldn’t care. They had no idea of his background, and just from looking at what was left of him after he was discovered, they thought he was just another wetback they wouldn’t have to worry about. I really wanted to do this case.
“Can I help?” asked Stefan.
“Only if you don’t threaten to have him cooked,” I said.
“I think I can do that. You know I have a thing for Mexico.”
I crossed my arms. “Glad you got over your intense hatred for Spain. He’s a half-breed.”
“He looks all Mayan, though. I think I can manage. Should I go as a chick?”
“That’s a good idea, but he’s gonna be a hard one to deal with. To woo here! He’s got a strong sense of responsibility, and he’s gonna think it was his fault that all this happened, and he’s gonna feel like he’s gonna be in big trouble for losing the money his mother gave him. I don’t have a complete plan yet, and we’re going to have to do some quick thinking on our feet here and there.”
Stefan scowled. “I can identify. But getting him here is no problem. We’ve done stuff like this hundreds of times. Just walk home with him, let him lead the way, but the environment isn’t what it was as he remembered it. Change it little by little.”
“That was part of my plan, but be prepared for more than one panic attack. We’ll also set his mind at ease with his family, by giving him another thirty dollars for his mom. Of course, it will be nothing to us. We’ll take him to lunch before going home, and let me ask if Andre will play a role in this case to mitigate the undeserved resentment that would be geared toward blacks due to the attack by being in that restaurant.”
“Good idea.”
Of course, Andre would take the job.
*****
This kid had no clue as to who or what I was. We’d be going as Donn and Stephanie. At the moment of his transfer, I pulled Morris out of the dumpster with as much delicacy as I could, which really wasn’t much. I suppose I should have climbed into the dumpster and handed him to Stef, but I didn’t think of it until after I grabbed his arm, held his head up, yanked him over the side, then heaved him out, in part using his belt. He’d had a few bones broken when he was clobbered, but that was not transferred to this surreality. In the process of my pulling him out, he ‘woke up’, groaning.
Of course this dumpster wouldn’t have all the thrown away food and other such vile items in it. It would have a Hell of a lot more paper and cardboard, so my clothes and Morris’s clothes wouldn’t have disgusting debris all over them, like they would have, if this had been the actual location of the event.
Stephanie was dressed in a dressage-type outfit. She wore a white, frilly, silk shirt with cravat, tight fitting black breeches though without the leather backside, black tailed coat, and riding boots. No helmet or hat, though. She wore wire framed, aviator style mirrored shades. I was in freshly pressed bell bottom jeans, harnessed black boots, a black t-shirt that said ‘VIVA LA AZTLAN’ in silver, and a denim jacket that looked right off the rack.
As I sat Morris down against the building behind the dumpster, I asked, “¿Le dañan?” Oh, here I go again. “Are you injured?” in English. In reality, we spoke Spanish, but for the sake of my readers….
“Oh man, what happened?” asked Morris.
“Apparently someone threw you into the trash,” I said.
He looked at me, then at Stephanie, then back to me. “Your Spanish is pretty good.”
Stephanie stood on her right foot, bent her left knee to have her left foot behind her, flicked both wrists, and said, “We’re not your average gringos.”
Morris laughed. “I guess not. I was attacked by some black dudes! They must have thought I was MS-13, or something.”
Leave it to Stephanie. “If you’re Mara Salvatrucha, I must be Clarence Thomas.”
This time Morris laughed so hard, he went into a coughing fit. I put my hand on his back, closed my eyes, and healed the problem he had with his asthma before it had the chance to heal itself. He stopped coughing fast, and when he stood up, he had no problem breathing. Morris stood there panting, and breathing easier than he had in years. “What did you do to me?” he asked me.
I just shrugged. “Not much. Just put my hand on your back. Sorry for invading your space.”
“No. It’s OK. I mean; you just pulled me out of the trash bin. I’m Morris Alejandro.”
“Vergil Xanon. My girlfriend is Stephanie Shannon.”
Morris looked at Stephanie. He silently thanked me for clarifying Stef’s gender. He had thought Stephanie was a dude of male persuasion.
“Well, thanks. Both of you! I didn’t realise this part of town had gotten so bad.” He then pulled out his wallet. “Oh man, they ripped me off. I was supposed to get a birthday cake for my little cousin Julieta.”
“How much did you lose?” I asked.
“Thirty dollars.”
I pulled out a very packed wallet. “Chump change.” I made it obvious to Morris I had a lot, pulled out thirty dollars, and handed it to him.”
He didn’t take it. “I can’t take that?”
Stephanie scowled. “Why not?”
“I don’t even know you, and it would take me forever to pay you back.”
I cocked my head. “You wouldn’t have to pay us back. We have more than we need, and it’s no big deal. In fact, shall we all go to Mocajetes just down the street, and you tell us what happened?”
Mocajetes! It was a nice looking little place he’d been curious about, but he’d never been there. His parents didn’t take him out to eat much, and he himself never spent his allowance on eating out. But it was a place he wanted to go. He still hadn’t taken the money. “Why would you do that for me? I’m just some Mexican kid who got into a bit of trouble.”
Stephanie wrinkled her nose, and looked at me. “Why the Hell should his background matter?”
I shrugged. “No clue.” I looked at Morris. “Can you answer that?”
“Most whites around here don’t like Mexicans. You’re not from around here, though. Are you? Your accents are different.”
“No, we’re not from around here. We’re just here to see what it’s like, and we don’t like it. It’s dirty, crowded, and though we read about the crime, now we see it right in our face. Now will you please take the damn money before my arm gets tired holding it out in front of me, and let’s go to the restaurant!” I said with a bit of sternness. It was an order.
Morris took the money, and put it into his own wallet. “OK. But can you give me your address so I can pay it back?”
I flicked my wrist, and grimaced. “Not worth the international postage.”
Morris looked at the sky. “Actually, I wonder how long I’ve been out. Doesn’t look like much, but I don’t know about eating out, now. My parents did send me out to get that cake, and I’m still not back yet. They might be getting worried.”
“We’ll tell them what happened. I’m sure they’ll forgive you for being a little late. We can get the cake as soon as we’re done eating, and we’ll meet your parents, OK? Maybe you guys should think about moving out his area if you can afford it. It’s bad, and getting worse.”
“I don’t know if we can. Both mom and dad have jobs here, and it costs a lot to move. Mom’s a Spanish teacher, and dad’s a production manager for Zytron.”
“Understood,” I said, as I waved my hand toward the restaurant. “Come on. The faster we eat, the faster we can get you home.”
“OK,” said Morris.
*****
We had to walk two and a half blocks to get to Mocajetes. Our adopted Andre Courtois manned the front desk, and his wife Tonya acted as the cook. Of course they also spoke Spanish, and Morris was a bit stunned at Andre taking his order, but there was no hostility, or association with him being in any way related to Morris’s attackers.
Morris thought this place was great. It was a cozy little eatery with ten tables, and six of those tables were against the walls with covered booths, and we sat down in the booth furthest from the window. The place had quaint Mexican paintings all over the walls, and Morris felt right at home.
I had searched Morris’s mind, and suggested he order the Camarones de la Diabla. He loved it, but it was the most expensive item on the menu. He wouldn’t have taken the initiative to order it. The stuff made a supernova look cool. Well, not quite, but I still couldn’t handle food that spicy even if I did eat shrimp. I’ve come a long way from my initial Irish tastes and was comfortable with even medium spicy Thai food now, but the ultra hot was not something I’m sure I could ever handle. Both Stef and I had vegetarian fajitas, and all was served with the standard beans and rice. Of course crisps and salsa were served prior, and yes; the salsa had a spice level I could tolerate, and I found it delicious. To drink we had horchatas, and for desert we had cream horns. By the time we left, Morris was quite stuffed, and quite happy.
We started walking toward the bakery, for which we had to back track. “Morris is an uncommon name for Mexico,” said Stephanie.
Morris shrugged. “My mother’s from Spain, and she named me after an orange cat that was in TV commercials.”
“It’s a nice name. Just not what you look like.”
“I agree, but I like it,” said Morris. “Why did you guys learn Spanish?”
“I used to live in California,” said Stephanie. “As for Ireland, it is in Europe, and it helps to speak more than one language over there, or you are going to have problems.”
“You speak the Mexican way, not the Spanish way,” said Morris.
“It’s easier, and why not use what everyone else uses, here?” I asked. “It’s not like the two sides of the pond can’t understand each other.”
“True,” said Morris. “Can we write each other after we split up?”
“We’ll keep in touch,” I said.
“Donn, I haven’t had any trouble breathing since you touched me after my attack. Did you do something to me?”
I looked at Stephanie, and shrugged. I then looked at Morris. “My family line is heavy into shamanism and witchcraft. It goes back generations, and I’m pretty good at some things. I’m a fair healer. Hope you don’t mind.”
“And you do that healing thing for nothing?” Morris was shocked. “I mean you didn’t even tell me!”
“You know, there is something I don’t understand about most people. When you have what you need, why want more? We just do what needs to be done, depending on what situation presents itself.”
“Sounds like Juan Matus,” said Morris. “Thanks a lot, though. Is it permanent, or temporary?”
“Permanent,” I said.
“Cool.”
Stephanie noted. “So! You read Carlos Castaneda!!!!!!!!”
“Dad has his whole series, and I like to read. Yeah. Interesting philosophies, but I just couldn’t get into ‘Magical Passes’. I couldn’t even get past the second chapter.”
Stephanie chuckled. “I couldn’t remember anything I read from that. It made limited sense to me, and I didn’t finish it, either. Can’t remember how far I got, though.”
Morris looked at me. “Did you read it too?”
“Hell, yeah! It’s a cross culture theme, and like you said. It’s a good set of philosophies.”
“You guys are nice.” He stopped. “This is it. Maria’s Bakery! I’m getting a Black Forest cake.”
“Somebody’s got taste,” said Stephanie.
Sylvia would be manning this store. The cake was listed at eighteen dollars and fifty cents. She gave us two for the price of one. Morris carried one, and I carried the other. Now, we’d allegedly go back to Morris’s flat, though of course we’d never make it there.”
*****
“How do you like it here?” I asked Morris.
“In this city? I don’t. After what just happened, I like it even less. I’ve had to be careful every now and then, but I was never beat up before. Considering they knocked me out, I’m glad I don’t have a headache.”
“And you can see the air that you breath. I swear I’ve never seen smog so thick,” said Stephanie.
“Dirty, too. A lot of garbage, and all the alleys smell like piss. The air used to make it hard for me with my lungs, but I guess that’s OK now. Thanks again, Donn. You have no idea what you did for me.”
“No problem. I might as well have just scratched the top of my own head, for all the effort it took. I’m good.”
“Can’t argue,” said Morris. “Is there anyway I can repay you?”
I sighed. “Dude, it was UNCONDITIONAL! I don’t do things with strings attached. Is that OK with you?”
“It’s not how most of the world works. I try to do things like that, though.”
“Well, you’re not the only one, OK?” I asked.
“OK.”
After we walked two blocks, things would start changing from what Morris remembered the city to be.
*****
Morris was looking down at the sidewalk, telling us about himself. He spoke of his past, his ambitions, his likes, his complaints, and everything else. We already knew it all, but we couldn’t tell him that…yet. The buildings were going away, the air was getting cleaner; there were more trees on the sidewalks, and bigger lawns in front of the buildings that were left.
Morris looked up. “Where is this?”
“Huh?” I asked.
“This isn’t right.” He pointed to the street sign ahead. “I have to look at that.” He ran ahead kind of slow, since he was carrying the cake.
Both Stef and I ran after him. I also had to be careful not to jostle the cake that I was holding. “Something wrong?” I asked.
Morris was panicked. “That’s the right street name, but that’s not my street. Where’re all the apartments and store fronts?” He looked down the street from where he came from. “That’s not right. That’s not what I came down!”
“You live on this street?” I asked.
“I live on a street with this name in a kind of nice four-storey apartment, on the top floor. The street only has apartments and stores with apartments or offices over them. What’s going on?” He looked to where we came from. “WHAAAAAAAAAAA…!”
“Morris! Calm down!” I said.
“Calm down? How can I? Where am I? This isn’t Los Angeles!” He was starting to hyperventilate.
I handed the cake I was holding to Stephanie, and put my index finger in front of my lips. “Shhhhhhhh. Everything is all right.” I put my other hand on his right shoulder. “Everything is as it should be. We won’t let anything bad further happen to you.”
He looked into my eyes. “I don’t know why, but I know you’re telling the truth.”
“I am. I’d have nothing to gain by lying.”
“I’m dreaming, then, right? I’m still unconscious in the dumpster, and I’m having a lucid dream, or a Carlos Castaneda moment, right?” asked a slightly less agitated Morris.
I smiled. “Works for me. That, or your Assemblage Point was shifted in the trauma of your attack. Let’s just go to your address.”
He nodded, and we did. It was halfway down the block. “This is it. Nice house, but this is not where I live.”
I motioned him forward with my index finger, and pointed to the two-storey stucco house with a large porch that had Greco-Roman columns. “Come on! Let’s see.”
“I don’t live here. I don’t like going on other people’s property,”
I started walking down the long path to the house that was set pretty far back from the street. “I’ll take full responsibility. Come on.”
Stephanie and Morris followed. When we got to the front door, Morris asked, “Now what?”
I said, “You have the key. I guess you unlock the front door and decide whether or not you want to invite us in.”
“But it’s not my house. I don’t live in a house.”
“Just try it,” I said.
He handed me the cake, and checked his pockets. He pulled his keys out, and put the key to the front door of his flat in the keyhole. It unlocked the door nicely. “What the Hell?” Then he just stood there.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” I asked.
“I don’t live here!!!!!!”
“It’s a dream, remember? A Carlos Castaneda moment?!” I said.
He shrugged, and opened the door. The furniture was identical to how it was in his flat. It was even laid out the same. He kind of screamed. I’m glad I was holding the cake. He would have dropped it.
Stephanie said, “Morris, come on! Let’s put one cake in the refrigerator, and have a piece of the other if you still have room after that lunch we had. That might make you feel better, and we can talk about this.”
“Stephanie, I feel like I’m in a horror movie!” exclaimed Morris.
“There will be no monsters in any closets. I’m sick of carrying this thing. Let’s go,” said Stephanie.
We went in, with Morris in the lead. “Mom? Dad?”
No answer.
“Doesn’t seem like there’s anyone here,” I said.
“But they were all here before. It’s Saturday. They don’t work. And my little sister, Angela isn’t here. She’s twelve. We were also getting read for the birthday party tomorrow.”
“Well, let’s unload these cakes,” I said.
Morris led us to the kitchen, and both me and Stef put the cakes on the table. Morris put one in the refrigerator, and the other on the counter. He got out three plates, and cut three pieces for us, giving each of us a sixth of the cake. He looked in the refrigerator. “We have Coke, and 7-Up.”
Yucky-poo! “With Black Forest cake? That’s sacrilege. Got tea?” I asked.
“Should have,” said Morris. “We usually drink Earl Grey.”
“Perfect,” I said.
Morris filled the teakettle with water, put in on the stove, turned the stove on, got three cups down, and found the Bigelow Earl Grey, which we did consider second rate, but I could fix that, and I did. “Sugar and half-and-half?” asked Morris.
Oh, man! Half-and-half? YE GODS!!!!!!! “No sugar, but we’ll take the half-and-half,” which was now cream. “We only put sugar or honey in chi tea. This stuff has a good flavour without a sweetener. Have you ever tried it like that?”
“No, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. I wonder where everybody went, but then again I wonder even more why I’m in a house that’s set up and furnished like our apartment.” He put the container he thought contained half-and-half on the table. He was going to be in for a pleasant surprise.
“No clue,” I said. “What if you did shift into another dimension?”
Morris scowled. “And you are a self-admitted brujo (witch)! Are you a ‘nagual’, like Juan Matus, and are you going to adopt me and teach me all these things?”
I GOT ‘IM!!!!!!!!!! I tilted my head, and smiled. This suddenly became very easy. “If I could, would you like that?”
“That would be cooler than cool! It also sounds too far out to be reality, but considering all I see now, I guess I could believe it might be possible.”
The teakettle went off. “Great. Let’s have that cake and tea, first,” I said.
He looked at me wide-eyed. “So you are a nagual?”
“I don’t call myself that. I’m of something you never heard of. The Tuatha de Danaan. Close enough, though.”
Morris poured the water into our cups, and sat down. When he creamed his tea, he scowled. “The half-and-half looks thicker than usual. I hope it didn’t go bad.” He sniffed it. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I said.
Morris looked at me, and I winked at him. He understood, gave me a thumbs-up, and had a bite of his cake. “Oh my GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!! Is this for real????????”
I had a bite of mine. “It is pretty good,” I said.
“Damn good,” chimed in Stephanie.
Morris chuckled. “I know I’m still pretty full, but it is an extra cake. Can we eat the whole thing?”
I shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”
Morris had a sip of his tea. “This is good, too. More like it’s cream, than half-and-half. The bergamot flavour is a lot stronger than usual, and it smells stronger, too.” He tilted his head. “Is that your fault, Donn?”
“Probably.”
“Thanks. Stephanie, are you the same as Donn?”
She pointed at Morris. “Actually, I’m more like you. More like Carlos than Juan, you know?”
“I think so. I also think I’m beginning to like this adventure. Maybe I can write a book about it?” asked Morris.
“Feel free,” I said. “I already have a fifteen volume set written, but there’s always room for more.”
“Man, I am so glad you two came by when you did.”
“So am I. After we polish off this cake, let’s go out back,” I said.
“You know, I didn’t even think to look out the back window?” asked Morris. “Do you know what the back yard looks like?”
“Judging from the front, I imagine it’s a well landscaped garden,” I said.
“I wonder if we have a pool?”
“I wouldn’t anticipate anything,” I said. “But we will find out, provided we can still walk after this desert on top of the huge meal we just had.”
Morris laughed.
Stef and I helped clean up after we finished.
*****
Morris was stunned, when we stepped out back. “Where’s the end of this thing?”
“Let’s follow the path, and find out,” I said.
He looked up. “The sky! I’ve never seen it so blue. We’re not in L.A. anymore, are we?”
“Probably not,” I said.
Morris looked at me with a smirk. “But of course you do know where we are.”
“I could give you a name, but it wouldn’t mean anything to you just yet.”
“So you can tell me?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Tech Duinn.”
“Never heard of it,” said Morris.
“I already told you that, but shall we go?” I asked.
“Oh, YEAH!” said Morris. “I’ve never SEEN anything like this. The colours, the smells, and it’s all so pretty.” He looked over a bunch of tulips. “The flowers are all so perfect.” He pointed ahead. “What’s that…is that a castle?”
“Looks like it to me,” said Stephanie.
I chuckled. “Yes. It is.”
“It looks so new, but so old,” said Morris.
“It is,” I said.
“New or old?”
I just had to say it. “Yes.”
Morris crossed his arms before him. “A sorcerer’s riddle?”
I ruffled his hair. “We’re not trapped in time anymore. Go on. You set the pace, and you can dawdle as much as you want, considering we’ve got forever.”
“Thanks.”
*****
Morris was fascinated with all the gazebos of my garden, which is of course, where we were. We paused at all the fountains, the statues we passed, the little bridges over the little streams, and the multi-coloured torches tripped him out. “This must be Hell o’ expensive to maintain. And you say these torches never go out? How can this be done? My family isn’t that rich.”
“Remember this isn’t the world from which you came from,” I said.
“I like this one better. I don’t even know if I want to go back to the other one,” I said.
Damn, this guy was easy. “Your decision.”
“Actually, that’s just something I said. I love my mom and dad, and little sister. I guess I’d have to really sit down and think hard about it, but this place is so much better than L.A..”
“You do that,” I said.
“Can I stay here, and look at this at night? It must be awesome, with all those torches.”
“It is,” I said. “It’s even more awesome when the night is foggy.”
“I bet,” said Morris.
“I’ll see if it can be arranged after we get to the castle,” I said.
“Can you make it foggy?”
“I must admit weather control isn’t my thing. I have to work on that, but my other best friend can.”
“Neat,” Morris said as we got to the little bridge over the moat, just before the small tunnel to one of the back entrances. “What is this place?”
“Basically a historical museum. It has rooms dedicated to the cultures of the world, most of them not being around any more. There’re also living spaces, and the first room on the left is a whirlpool spa, but let’s not look at that now. We’d get wet from the steam. You can do that alone, later if you like,” I said.
“I don’t have a swim suit with me.”
“We can get you one, or you can go alone,” I said. We passed the door to the spa, and pointed at it. “This is it. We’ll check it out later.”
“OK,” said Morris.
“Normally we treat our guests to a feast here, but considering all we ate, I suppose we’ll skip it, or do it later. We’re vegetarian, but we won’t hold you to that. Also, we’re headed to the main living room. If you see any rooms you want to check out, go for it,” I said.
“All right. Thanks.”
And we ended up looking at every room we passed.
*****
Before we got to the room of the perpetual burning fireplace, I signalled Hesper, and basically requested he get over there, and lay on the couch via picture thoughts. The stallion complied. I also manifested a copy of my book in one volume on the coffee table.
“This place is yours?” asked Morris of me as the three of us walked down the halls. Stephanie more or less stayed out of this conversation. After all, this kid was my case.
“Yes. In fact, I more or less built it.”
Morris scowled. “You don’t look very old, for having done that.”
I smiled. “I’m older than I look. The Tuatha don’t age past what they want. I stopped at four and twenty.”
“So how old are you?”
I winked at him. “I’ll let you read about it. I think you’ll get a kick out of my autobiography.”
“I think I will, too. You’ve got some neat pictures up in the halls. I like that red headed warrior lady. Is she real? ”
“They’re all real, and they live here. That lady’s Macha. You can meet her later. She was kind of my first girlfriend, sort of. It didn’t work out in the conventional sense, but we are still friends.”
“Who’s the white guy with the glowing eyes that looks so much like you?” asked Morris.
Hm. He knew about Thanatos. “He goes as Keith.”
“Kayth? Never heard of that.”
“K-e-i-t-h. We pronounce it ‘Kayth’ in Ireland. We prefer that pronunciation, so we didn’t Americanise it.”
“Why is he painted with neon eyes?” asked Morris
“They’re actually like that. Artificial. Cosmetic. He can see just fine, and he can see in the dark. Same with his horse.”
“You all have horses?”
“They have us, rather. Yes. Like to go for a ride, later?” I said.
“Never ridden before, but I’d like that very much.”
“You’ll be sore until you get used to it.”
“I read about that. How long can I stay here?”
“As long as you want,” I said. “Where we’re going is just around the corner.
*****
“There’s a horse on the couch,” said Morris when he saw Hesper.
“He’s a pony, really,” said Stephanie, finally saying something. She trotted over to Hesper, and hugged him, putting her cheek against his. Hesper was perfectly still, quite happy with the attention, and knowing that tossing his head now would not be conducive to the situation.
Morris looked at me. “You let your horses inside?”
“They never make a mess, so yes. Would you like to sit next to him?”
“Please? He’s beautiful.”
“And he knows it,” I said with a chuckle.
We walked over, Morris sat to Hesper’s front, and I sat on the edge of the couch, being there was no more room on it, as it was. Stephanie let go of the pony, and sat at the other end of the couch, behind Hesper.
Morris looked at the book on the coffee table, as he scratched Hesper behind the ears. “Is that your autobiography?”
“Sure is,” I said. “Feel free to pick it up.”
Morris stroked the pony’s head, and then leaned forward, his rear leaving the seat for a second to reach the book, being there was a bit of space between the couch and the coffee table. This copy was black velvet with silver gilt and lettering. “This is thick, and it looks expensive.”
“Money is irrelevant to me,” I said.
Morris looked around. “I see. How often do the torches need to be changed?” he asked as he waved to the walls.
“Never,” I said. “This fire never goes out, either. The rules aren’t the same here as they are where you came from. Also, let me tell you. Everything in that book is real, no matter how outrageous.” I pointed to the table, and a steaming teakettle and three cups appeared. “This one’s masala chi. Black tea with East Indian spices, ghee, cream, and honey.”
“Wow! You seem more powerful than Juan Matus.”
“Different,” I said. I got up, and poured us all some tea.
Stephanie grabbed hers, and had a sip. So did Morris. “Delicious. I’m glad you’re my friend. I’d hate to have you as a foe,” said Morris.
I picked up my cup, and raised it to him. “Do ye no harm, do as ye will.”
Morris raised his cup to me, then Stephanie. “Good toast,” and he had another sip. Then he put the cup down, and started petting Hesper. “I guess I’ll start reading this?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Where are the bathrooms?”
“You don’t have to do that here,” said Stephanie.
“If you say so, I guess I’ll have to believe it.” said Morris. He found the first page, and started reading, while snuggling with Hesper. In a short while, he asked me, “You’re a Death God?”
“Gate Keeper! Please! I’m no more a god than Stephanie’s nose!”
“Hey!” said Stephanie.
Morris just laughed. He wasn’t there, yet.
“Just wait. Stef’s nose is quite an item, here,” I said.
Well, it was rather large. “I guess so,” said Morris. “Now my next question is, am I dead to the world I was in, before? Did that gang actually kill me?”
“You’re a bright kid, Morris. You got it,” said Stephanie
“So I can’t go home again.”
“You can. They just won’t see you. You can also go to when they come to this side of The Veil, and meet them as soon as I show you how. And with me, it will be a lot easier than what Juan Matus did to Carlos. But in reality, it would be a better idea for you to just let go of what was, and just concentrate on yourself and your own evolution for the mean time. Everything else will work itself out, later,” I said.
Morris smiled. “I can’t believe being dead is this much fun.”
“Not for all, Morris. Not for all. And don’t worry. It’s gonna be a Hell of a lot more fun in a little while. After you finish the book, I’ll help you reconsolidate yourself with all your other lives, and then you’ll take on the adult form of your present self, being that’s what you’re supposed to have. I’ll teach you all you need to know about existing here, and then you can decide what you truly want for yourself.
Morris reached for his cup, and raised it. “To Death, then.”
I raised my cup back. “To transition. There really is no death.”
“So I see.”
Stephanie looked at me. “This one is definitely not a food product.”
Morris’s left eyebrow went up. “Huh?”
I just shook my head. “You’ll find out as you get further into the series.”
Morris shrugged, and said, “OK.”
I closed my right eye, lifted my upper lip, gave Stef the ‘tude finger for saying that thing about Morris not being a food product, and all three of us laughed, even though Morris didn’t know why I did what I did.
Morris went back to the book for the read of his life…ere…existence.
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