Six † At Death's Door

With a thud, Kat and Calix landed right into apartment B3, crumpling down on the hallway like a pair of marionettes whose strings were snipped off. She fell on her knees, him right on his face. The door didn't close by itself, but one look confirmed that the weird room was well away now. Staring back at her was her parents' bedroom, dark and unbelievably dusty but otherwise normal. No gold, no candles, no antique tables, and definitely no non-red schnitzel Demons.

Kat never thought she'd consider the scrape of the gritty carpet a welcome sensation, but here she was now, thanking all the deities she could name.

The carpet meant home. It meant she’d succeeded.

She couldn't decide what surprised her more: the revelation about the existence of Hell and its creatures, or the fact that she just saved herself from both.

Either way, she felt numb all over. She stayed on the same spot where she’d landed, still on all fours, her face bathed with the dim orange light of the setting sun. Incredulity and relief coursed through her in a paralyzing mix, muting down her faculties until the only thing she could think about was her survival. Only when Calix groaned and rolled over did she realize that her problems weren't over yet.

"You saw the door," he said in a pained tone.

"You pretended not to see it," she retorted in disgust.

"I did not." He gave her a pointed look through his half-closed eyes. "You stole my powers, that is why I could not see it."

"Stole?" she echoed incredulously. "I didn't do anything. I just—"

"You even pulled me here," Calix interrupted. "I tried to stop you, but you pulled me."

Kat scowled at him. "You could've stayed back—"

"You do not understand, Katalina Donovan. You have put us in a difficult position."

"Hey, pal, the last time I checked, there's no 'us' in this—"

"Going back here is more dangerous," Calix muttered and tried to sit up, but he slinked back like a withered lettuce, his face scrunched up. "They will come for me. For you. They will not be as merciful as I am."

Her heart quite literally wrenched. She felt it expand and contract. In a forced bravado, she decided to ask, "They? Who are they?"

But he was not paying attention to her. "If I surrender, the most they could do to me is banishment, but to you, the wicked human who had stolen my powers. . . ."

Calix trailed off.

"Hey!" Kat shifted around and shook his shoulders. "Who are you talking about? You know I didn't do it on purpose!"

His eyes fluttered closed, his body limp and motionless.

"Calix?" The name escaped her in a high-pitched squeak. "Calix!"

No response. Even her mightiest shake didn't budge him. Her first panicked thought was that he'd died, but upon closer inspection she realized that he was still breathing.

He was just asleep, deeply so. She wanted to throttle him.

Great. Just great. How could he end with such a statement? What was he trying to do to her head?

Instantly, she started to come up with scenarios that all involved skeletal, rotting soldiers in black robes marching inside the apartment. There would probably be dozens of them. All bloodthirsty, colder and meaner than Calix. Not to mention a lot less attractive. And they would all drag her into the pits of Hell, that freezing torture chamber she'd seen in his memories, to execute her. Maybe they'd even tear her limb from limb right on the spot, upon arriving here. . . .

For a second, the image seemed so real that Kat had to let out a whimper.

Oh, no. What had she gotten herself into?

•‡•‡•‡•

Bedrooms: check. Living room: check. Bathroom: check. Cupboard in the kitchen: check. Fridge: check.

Patrol number ten: officially done. Results: coast is clear.

Sighing in satisfaction, Kat sat at the mouth of the hallway and set her newly-retrieved rusty meat cleaver on her lap. It was already a few minutes past eight, but she felt as energized as ever, ready to pound some heads with her weapon. She had to be, if she wanted to defend herself against the "they" that Calix had mentioned before dunking out.

Speaking of Calix, he was still slumbering peacefully at the same spot in the hallway, sprawled face-up.

Even though Kat was sitting beside him, she still couldn't fully believe that he was here, that he was indeed a creature of the Underworld. Not only that, he also had powers, which she'd somehow extracted from him and used for her own gain.

That bothered her the most. The more she thought about it, the fuzzier it got, and the crazier it made her feel. For how many times during the night, she'd almost volunteered to be put inside a padded cell. But she didn't really belong there, did she? All the insane stuff was real. The proof was literally a foot away from her, alive and snoring slightly.

Out of habit, Kat extended a finger and poked his cheek. Yup. Still solid. And was she tripping, or was he starting to look a bit more . . . human?

Well, it wasn't like he looked like a rhino before. He'd just seemed unearthly, like an extremely good-looking, bloodless alien. Now, he was no longer as pale as a sheet of paper. Color had appeared in his skin. His cheeks were rosy, the tip of his nose a light shade of pink. Also, he wasn't giving off a cold aura anymore. His breath and his body were warm. Feverishly hot, even.

And him appearing more human and less supernatural made it harder for her to leave him or—the most logical thing to do—kill him.

Over the course of the night she'd considered both. Leave or kill. But she couldn't do either. Every time she thought about doing anything, she'd remember how he'd lowered his spear and decided to give her another chance. After that he'd even shielded her from the falling debris and warned her about the dangers of her actions—

Tap, tap, tap. A series of sharp knocking sounds echoed in the silent apartment.

Kat was so startled that she stood up in a hurry, causing the cleaver to fall on the floor and narrowly miss her exposed toes. With black spots dancing in her eyes, she decided to find the source of the sound. It was coming from the front door. Someone—or something—was knocking.

Instantly, her mind flitted back to the bony soldiers, but upon opening the door she quickly found out that it wasn't them. It was Mrs. Lawrence from apartment B1.

"I knew you were back!" Mrs. Lawrence trilled, holding her arms out as though beckoning for a hug. "Oh, Kat. It's been ten years!"

For a full moment Kat was too stunned to talk, but she forced herself to recover and say, "I know! God, it feels good to be back."

Even though she'd said that with a stiff, almost sarcastic tone with her head barely visible behind the slightly opened door, Mrs. Lawrence beamed. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm great!" Kat bared her teeth in what she hoped was a smile. "You?"

"Never been better."

That had to be a lie, Kat thought. The years hadn't treated Mrs. Lawrence kindly. Her face was awfully wrinkled now, and her makeup seemed to be plastered right onto her skin. She still had the same wide smile, though. And the kind brown eyes. She might be the nosiest neighbor known to mankind, but there was no denying that she always meant well.

And as though to prove that, she produced a clear Tupperware container from behind her and forced it through the tiny gap in the door. "I made you some cake rolls as a welcome back. I know how much you like them."

"Thank you," Kat said, meaning it with all her heart until a certain memory popped in her head. She almost burst out laughing.

Mrs. Lawrence mistook her grin as a smile of pleasure. "Enjoy your stay, dear. Take care!"

Clamping her lips together, Kat nodded. Mrs. Lawrence flashed her one more beam before sashaying away. Once she was well away, Kat closed the door and let out all the laughter she'd been holding back.

Oh, how could she have forgotten? On top of being nosy, Mrs. Lawrence was also quite delusional, and Kat meant this not as an insult. The old woman was indeed quite loopy. She'd always give out cakes and pastries, claiming that she'd made them by scratch, when in fact they were just microwaved Hostess cakes. Kat discovered this the hard way when she'd seen one of the packages at the grocery store and made the connection. Later on, she'd tasted the uncanny resemblance.

But then again, Kat was famished. A Hostess cake, microwaved or not, was a blessing.

She went back to the hallway with her gift in tow and was about to break open the Tupperware when Calix suddenly sat up. Just out of nowhere, with no preamble, no stretching. Nothing. It was like seeing a zombie in action.

And as if that wasn't enough, he had to mutter, "I am your loyal servant, forgive me!" upon waking too.

Naturally, Kat panicked. Not wanting to be defenseless this time, she dropped the Tupperware, reached for the meat cleaver, and poised it above Calix's head.

She thought she had the upper hand, but Calix just stared at the cleaver. Then, in a bored manner, he snatched it from her grip and tossed it over his shoulder. The thing bounced on the carpet, the handle breaking from the rest of the metal part.

So much for being armed.

She debated on making a quick dive at it, but in the end she settled with acting cool and righteous. "So you're awake."

With a grace that shouldn't be possessed by a man who'd just gotten knocked out, Calix got to his feet. "So you want to kill me as well. Surely rendering me useless is enough."

"What?" she spluttered. "You're the one who tried to kill me!"

"But I did not."

"But you were about to."

"It is my duty, Katalina Donovan."

"Will you stop calling me by my full name?"

Calix sighed. "I am sorry."

"Yeah, that's right," Kat said smugly, "Don't say my name in vain again—"

"I am not apologizing for saying your full name, Katalina Donovan," he cut in, meeting her gaze squarely. "I am apologizing for trying to . . . er, end you. Believe me, I did not want to do it. I am merely bound by command."

When she merely snorted, he reached out for her hand, his stony expression going softer. His warm palm rested on her skin pleasantly, almost comfortingly. "If it were up to me, I never would have hurt you. As obnoxious as you are."

She had to remember how to breathe. God, she couldn't stop falling into bits at the presence of a good-looking man, could she? It was the curse of being single for nearly six years.

Kat gulped and withdrew her hand. "Right."

"I am not lying." He leaned closer to her. "Look at me."

"Okay, okay!" She forced herself to meet his eyes, but only managed to maintain eye contact for about two seconds. "Don't you have a concept of personal space?"

Calix pulled back a little. "What is personal space?"

There's my answer, Kat grouched. Instead of retorting, she slumped back on the floor and reached out to get the Tupperware. But before she could retrieve it, Calix walked across her and opened her bedroom door.

"Don't!" Kat immediately protested, forgetting all about the cake rolls.

But he didn't seem interested in going in. In fact, he proceeded to open her parents' bedroom. 

"Wait." She stood. "Are you trying to find the front door so you can leave?"

"Leave?" He turned to her; his brows furrowed. "Without you? Of course not."

She held her breath. "Don't tell me you want to go back and face the Demons."

"No, not the Demons this time," he said absently, fumbling on the wall like he was searching for another door. Then, still in a daze, he turned to Kat. His eyes suddenly went bright. "Ah, of course. I have been a fool."

Without warning, he took her hand and started to lead her towards the bedroom door. Frost started to build around the metal orb upon his touch. Looking relieved by this, he took her hand and put it on his.

"This is what you did, yes?" Without waiting for her answer, he continued, "It seems that you are capable of creating portals, but you cannot access them."

"Calix," she began, but he was too hyped up to pay attention to her.

"You have seen into my mind. You know that palace I have been in before I came to your world," he was saying. "Think of that place, the throne of my master. Once you create the portal, we will cross and request an audience. We will accept their verdict—"

"We?" Kat repeated.

"Yes," he said as though this should be obvious. "I know that you did not mean to bring me here with you, but now I realize that it is only fitting. We can surrender together."

It took her a moment to let that sink in, and when it did, it felt like it seeped right into her bones. "What made you think I want to surrender?"

"Because it is the right thing to do!" Calix's patience slipped for a moment, revealing his frustration. He started to pace in his spot. "I was assigned in this city to fulfill an important mission, and that is to collect the wicked souls. Once they notice those evil entities wreaking havoc, free and unchecked, the cycle of death will be disturbed. They will find me, make me pay my dues. With that I have no problem, but you—you have taken my powers, leaving me unable to perform my duties—"

"I didn't do it intentionally!" Her voice rang in the hallway. "I have no idea how it happened!"

"I believe you. I would love to discover the answer with you, but my brethren. . . ." Calix's jaw clenched. "They do not care much about the details. They only see the conclusion and its consequences. They would spare you no mercy."

Kat's mind flashed back to what he'd said before he passed out, about the ones coming for them. She'd imagined bony soldiers before and that was creepy, but the image of a dozen men identical to Calix trying to kill her was more than creepy. It was sinister. Her skin crawled.

He stared at her. "Do not forget, you are destined to die yesterday, and here you are, alive and in possession of my powers. What does that look like?"

She swallowed hard. "It looks like I stole your powers just to stay alive."

"Precisely." Calix nodded. "I would most likely be banished for bringing disgrace to my master, but you will be destroyed."

"You won't vouch for me?" She gritted her teeth. "You said you believe me!"

"I do, but this is not mine to judge," he said defensively. "That is why I am asking you a favor. Take us to the Underworld. Perhaps if we come willingly, they would show us mercy."

Calix slowly guided her hand, turning the knob and opening the door a couple of inches. Cold air started to filter through the crack and into the hallway. The picture of the marble walls was vivid in her head, and she was sure that if the door opened further, those walls would be the first things she'd see. She was indeed leading both of them there.

"Perhaps we could plea for a lesser sentence," he coaxed. "Perhaps we would not have to suffer their wrath."

Perhaps. It meant that he himself wasn't sure. Uncertainty was despicable at this point, especially with her life on the line.

Calix stared at her determinedly. "We could end this right here."

Fear and panic resurfaced in Kat's gut, but this time mixed with anger and defiance. She wanted to ask who his master was and what could change if they surrendered, but she couldn't. She didn't want to. She didn't go through all that shit just to give up meekly in the end. She was alive now, and she would do anything to keep going. There was no way she would take them to that sad, cold, terrible place. . . .

She shook her head. "It can’t be the end for me. It shouldn’t be, and you know it."

With that, she pried his grip off her and pulled the door shut. The sound of the clicking lock oddly reverberated in the apartment. Shock registered in his face, but she didn't mind. She didn’t care. She turned around to go, to leave and forget.

But that was when darkness rolled over them in a big dense blanket, engulfing the entire world around them and swallowing them whole until there was nothing.