Tea Time with Satan

“If you value your life, then yes,” he said, helping me into the carriage and whistling to the horse.  It snorted and he mounted its back, guiding it to the border of trees.  The roan grunted, braying as it nosed the brambles.  Peeking through the window, I watched in awe as the branches peeled back and the trunks bent to let the hearse pass through. 

A path appeared out of nowhere, its worn dirt lined by toadstools that glowed a faint blue.  I could swear one was a fish belly-white gnome with an upturned cap, but once I blinked, he was gone.  Corpseboy gazed about with reserved interest, watching as shadows crept by.  Monstrous forms were hinted at by the shifting dark.  His eyes were like lasers penetrating the night, casting red pools upon whatever they saw.

Something growled and I jumped, startled.  Not wanting to see what it was, I drew the curtains closed, huddling at the center of the carriage.  The lamps flickered as the growls grew louder, drowning out the horse's clopping hooves.  “What is that?” I called, voice quivering.

“Oh, it's just a wolf.  They used to live here in Virginia before settlers wiped them out.  I lured a few here with steaks back in the day for the hell of it.  They've grown a bit bigger over the centuries, but they're still the spanking image of their ancestors.  You find a lot of things here in the Border that ceased to exist on Earth long ago.”

“I hope I don't become one of those things,” I said grimly.

“Oh, Callie, stop spoiling the mood of this glorious night.  I'll throw you to the wolves if you continue.”

I forced myself to be silent for what seemed like forever, glowering. 

“You certainly don't want to be eaten, do you?” he observed.

“Obviously.”

“Well, the wolf's gone- you can resume bothering me, if you'd like.”

“You're charming,” I observed drily.

“Why thank you,” he laughed.  “Say, come join me out here.  The view is magnificent.”

“What, are you suggesting I climb on top of the carriage and jump onto the horse?”

“There's a stair that runs alongside the hearse- follow that.  Anyways, you don't seem like the type to shy away from danger.”

I followed suit, opening the door and climbing out onto the narrow step.  Clinging to the roof's edge, I crept sideways to the front.  The coach seat sat under a burgundy canopy, padded with soft leather, and my body sank into it like the sea.  Looking around in wonder, I saw trees as thick around as an elephant with roots that made small mountains across the ground.  The canopies were draped with fruits that glittered in the moonlight, scenting the air sweetly, and the leaves, when illuminated, revealed the brilliant colors of autumn.  It was a forest as old as time.  The earthy smells of loam and rain ruled the night, spiced by woodsmoke and faint traces of roasting meat.  There was laughter and song in the distance, lights obscured by the thick trunks, and a few eyes peeped back at me through the brush.

“I know this place,” I whispered, so faintly he couldn't hear me.  It was like I'd been here before, in a dream.  Like this was the place I'd searched for so long, just waiting to be discovered.  Like it was the reason I wandered the woods.

Corpseboy relaxed atop his horse, reclining on its back with one leg along its spine and another knee up.  He tucked his arms under his head and gazed upon the thin stretch of stars above.  He looked perfectly serene, letting the horse follow the path without guidance.

“So peaceful, isn't it?” he said quietly.  “I'm almost tempted to fall asleep.  Of all places that exist, this is the one I would come to in dreams...”

My heart leapt as he uttered the word 'dream,' like he'd fished in my head for my thoughts.  “Really?  It's the last place for me, right up there with a war zone,” I said quickly, covering my unease.

Sam smirked.  “You fear the unknown.  Then again, don't we all?  What we can't understand is a threat.  It must be so difficult, understanding so little.”

“Stop pulling this 'poor little mortal' act on me, okay?  Frankly, I'm sick of it.  You might be Death, and I might be a cosmic speck from your perspective-

“Yes, but an intriguing speck, like a speck of glitter, a fleck of gold.  Most people are specks of dust: they're mundane, common, and they give me dreadful allergies.”

I glared at him for interrupting me.  “Well, I'm glad you think so highly of the human race.”

He twisted so that he was lying on his stomach, facing me.  I flinched at his penetrating eyes, smoldering like the fires of Hell.  Despite a body that could rival Michaelangelo's David, he was deadly.  As he opened his mouth to speak, I noticed something gleam beneath his lips.  Something curved, long, and pointy. 

Fangs. They were like a viper's, crowning his upper and lower teeth, needle-sharp at their ends.  My mouth dropped open.  He stared at me, perplexed, until he realized I was looking at his mouth.  He began to laugh, baring twin pairs of fanged canines.  “What, afraid of the big bad wolf?” he whispered.

My terror vanished immediately.  “I was until that stupid line.”

He glared back at me, face threatening.  “You should always be terrified of me, Callie.  Only fools don't fear death.”

“But what if Death himself is an idiot?”

“I think I liked you better unconscious.  You were so much more agreeable.”

I narrowed my eyes, crossed my arms and fixed my gaze on the numerous trees.  “I don't know whether to be scared by you or ticked off beyond belief,” I muttered.

He laughed deeply.  “You're just like a shrew, in every sense of the world.  Vicious little creatures that go berserk when cornered; they're aggressive as Hell and fight to the death.  And of course there's the female variety- unpleasant women such as yourself.  Both types are feisty little bitches.”

My face burned with anger.  “Well maybe I'd be more pleasant if I wasn't trapped with you!”

He grinned.  “I bring out the worst in you, don't I?  I seem to affect humans that way.  They just dislike me, and I haven't a clue as to why.”

“You're oblivious,” I groaned, burying my head in my hands.

“Am I, now?  Or perhaps I just enjoy getting rises out of people.  If they're going to quiver in terror upon the sight of me, I might as well have a little fun.”

“Your definition of 'fun' is about as enjoyable as Russian roulette.”

“Yep, you're definitely a shrew.”

I didn't deign to respond, wishing with all my heart I was anywhere but here.

“Ah, we're here!” he declared, glancing over his shoulder at the path.  It tapered off into nothing.  He sprang off the horse anyways.  Sam landed on all fours like a cat, took the horse's lead and flung it over a branch.  The rope looped into a knot as he stroked the horse's gaunt head, then murmured into its ear.  It promptly fell asleep and he motioned towards me.  “Need help, little mortal?”

“I can get down myself, thank you very much,” I quipped, leaping from the carriage.  “So, we came all this way so you could take tea in the middle of nowhere?”

“Callie, Callie- you're the one that's oblivious.”  He slunk over to the trees blocking our path and brushed a whorl in one's trunk with his fingers.  Suddenly, the trees vanished, leaving a natural archway over stones set into the ground to form a path.  At the path's end was something completely unexpected: an abandoned basketball court, a carbon copy of the one in the woods back home.  The single basket was the same, backboard still grimy and broken, rim netless.  Thorny brambles surrounded it on all sides and the pavement was cracked beyond recognition. 

But that was where the similarities ended.  The edges were ringed by scarlet candles melted onto gravestones.  A single table stood at its center, covered by black silk.  Two stumps stood at each end with tasseled golden pillows, serving as chairs.  A tarnished silver tea set shone at the table's center and plates of red china sat at each place, piled high with biscuits and pastries. 

No one sat at the table.  Voices rang through the night, laughter mingled with song, but no one was there.  No one but specters that seemed to dance round the table, faint stains against the candlelight.  Corpseboy caught my eye, smiled grandly, and motioned to the strange scene before us. 

“As king, I welcome you to my humble court,” he pronounced, offering his arm and leading me down the cobblestone path.  I didn't budge, eying the phantoms waltzing in the distance.  They stopped dead in their tracks, bowing and curtsying deeply as Corpseboy turned to face them.  He looked at me with exasperation, released my hand and bowed slightly to the ghostly crowd.  They burst into excited whispers, voices like wind through dead leaves, and the candles burst into pillars of flame.  I screamed as the firelight drenched them, revealing transparent skeletons instead of their elegant silhouettes, dressed in tattered shrouds like grave-bound corpses. 

Without warning, Corpseboy grabbed an apple and shoved it into my mouth.  I bit down reflexively.  As its juices drenched my mouth, the skeletons became flesh, their rags turning into clothes.  I was confronted by a whole retinue of noble-looking men and women dressed in elegant gowns and old-fashioned suits, eying me with disdain.  Corpseboy, oblivious to their disapproval, grinned widely.  “See, Callie?  Nothing to be afraid of.  Now come along or the tea will grow cold.”

“They're dead,” I whispered in horror.

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” he scoffed and pulled me along.  “I thought a little danse macabre would lighten your dreary mood.  It always cheered the peasants up back in the day.  But, if all they do is scare you, I suppose I'll let them rest.”  He clapped in applause.  “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for a wonderful night!  Though it was short, I hope you enjoyed the music, refreshments, and wine.  You're the picture of aging with grace...”

His voice trailed off as their murmurs grew into angry protests.  “Rest in peace, my children,” he whispered.  His eyes flashed crimson and they froze, disintegrating into dust blown away by a sudden wind.  Corpseboy sighed, looking at me with measured disgust.  “There, happy now?  Really, I go through all that effort to reanimate corpses, and instead of being impressed, you get rid of them.  My beautiful creations...”

“Reanimated corpses?  You brought them back from the dead?”

He scoffed.  “No, simple girl.  Nothing can return from death.  To attempt to do so is odious and far beneath me.  I gave their their corpses life- they're simply puppets, illusions.  Memories of what once was.  The bodies remember the motions of living- what it is to dance, to sing, but there is no soul inside their skulls.”

“That's disgusting,” I said, horrified.  “Why would you do that?”

“Well, I didn't expect you to see skeletons in rags- you were supposed to see happy people dancing the night away.  It seems, however, that you are so opposed to this place that the fruit of the fey doesn't affect you.”

“Fruit of the fey?”  I'd heard the word long ago, in a children's tale...

“The apple you ate.  Never mind what the fey are.  It's best you didn't know.  But, point in case, I was trying to provide you with a bit of entertainment.  I had no intention of frightening you.  As for whether or not it's moral to animate their remains, as Death, they belong to me.  The owners are long gone and longer forgotten.”

I hesitated, not knowing whether to accept his apology or run away screaming  If I wanted to survive in this nightmarish place, I was stuck with him, whether I liked it or not.  “Fine,” I said stiffly, “let's just get this over with.”

“Get this over with?” he said incredulously.  “Callie, tea is to be relished.  Something to soothe the soul and provide respite from an exhausting day, an honored tradition to be cherished with all due respect.”

I arched my brows in disbelief. “How am I supposed to enjoy tea in the middle of the haunted woods with a psycho?”

He narrowed his eyes.  “That's it,” he snapped, slinging me over his shoulder.  I cried out in protest, struggling against him, but he easily overpowered me, marching happily onwards and plunking me down on a pillowed stump.  I crossed my arms and glared at him.  He ignored me, pouring himself a steaming cup. “Earl Grey,” he informed me.  “Would you like some?”  He took a sip, ah-ing appreciatively.

“I might as well,” I said begrudgingly.  He smirked at my sullen expression, pouring the piping hot tea into a tarnished cup.  I took it tentatively, the metal warm, and brought it to my lips.  The tea tasted exquisite, like the kind they must serve the Queen, and it spread through my body like fire, bringing a comforting warmth to my limbs against the bitter autumn chill. 

Corpseboy smiled, taking a pastry in hand and biting it softly, fangs sinking into the bread.  “See?  It instantly relaxes you, doesn't it.  I recommend the scones.”

I took a biscuit instead.  I might be trapped here, but I wouldn't be agreeable.  Not with someone who made puppets out of corpses.

“If I recommended the water, you would rather expire than drink it,” he observed, steepling his fingers under his chin.

“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

He narrowed his right eye, squinting at me, and the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement.  “Would you prefer we take our tea in silence, then?  Sobriety kills the mood.”

“Our tea?  You had to drag me here.”

“Carry you, you mean.  Dragging you would be too much effort.”

I sighed, finishing the biscuit in silence.  He insisted on pouring more, watching as I stared at it longingly but refused to drink. 

“It'll keep you warm, if anything,” he urged.

“What do you mean?  I'm perfectly toasty,” I said, beginning to shiver as the tea wore off.

He watched me for a few moments more, stirring blasphemous amounts of sugar into his cup.  I crossed my arms in refusal, staring at the candles that surrounded us.  He sipped the tea, sighed contentedly.  I noticed the flames rose and fell with his exhalations.  Curiosity piqued, I reached for my cup's handle, making the motions to pick it up, then swatted it aside with my hand.  It hit the pavement with a high-pitched clang and a shower of tea fell in its wake, staining the tablecloth. 

“I saw that, you ungrateful maggot!” Corpseboy snapped, and the candles burst into towering infernos.  “What kind of guest are you, to treat my hospitality so atrociously?  I should fling you to the pavement and shatter every bone in your carcass.”  The flames hissed violently as he grabbed the table, shaking it as he attempted to calm down.  I babbled apologies.  But my voice was drowned out by the shrieking fires- they snaked upwards and made a net of flame across the basketball court, meeting in the center and forming a bolt of flame that burned my eyes.  It struck feet from me, scorching the court, and I screamed.