MasukDEATH GETS A LOVE LIFE. "I accept," I say all at once and then lower my eyes shyly. "If you think my human body can serve as a substitute for her and fill your hunger, I'm willing to take that chance." The feeling that I recognize in his eyes is one of shock and even fear, as though he hadn't expected at all that I'd agree. "Let's do it," I whisper across the gap between us. **** When metalhead Janet Buenviaje dies in a diving accident, she falls into an underworld prison where the only way out is through an eccentric reaper named Septimus Rex. As monarch of Soul City, Septimus Rex leads an army of supernatural Ravens tasked with the deportation of overstaying souls from the mortal realm. But the fates smile on Janet because the head reaper has problems of his own. He has fallen in love with a mortal girl; an abhorrent sign of weakness that, if discovered by the Ravens, will start a power struggle in Hell. With Janet's help, Septimus must now attempt to confess his feelings to the girl of his dreams so he can go back to being devoid of human sentiment. Janet is reincarnated as a Wampus Cat reaper and hatches an escape plan to the surface world. But she finds that things in the underworld are not what they seem and Septimus's problems run deeper, somehow even linked to her own mysterious past.
Lihat lebih banyakEverything fades into regular, high-pitched beeping. I open my eyes to the disorienting sight of tubes snaking from my body. {Where in God’s name am I?} I sit bolt upright and tear some of the tubes off my chest. This starts a rapid alarm from the machinery next to the bed I’m lying on. {Sol’s at the park,} I remember vaguely. {No, that can’t be right. Sol’s visiting me…} {…at the beach house…} All the memories of the past week come flooding back; a literal information overload. The surrealism of my experiences strains my grip on reality and triggers an alarm on the EKG monitor. But thankfully, incredibly, my brain succeeds in reducing everything to a manageable size. Nurses rush into the room with their mouths hanging open. “I know everything,” I whisper to myself. “I know who I am now.” **** The rebellion that spilled over to the surface world shall be known forevermore as the Battle of the Bolgias. A great number of Death’s loyal guards, the Helter-Skeltals, have shed ma
{Special delivery, boss,} Ankou announces in his doll-like voice which always sounds like it’s coming from a phonograph record embedded in him. The only difference this time is his head with the Cheshire-cat grin has been torn off and is tucked under his arm. {Spank these foul creatures back to our hole sweet hell.} Without warning, Ankou’s voice is reduced to gurgling, as though the doll had suddenly been thrown into a fire. At Hell’s Helm, Spinstra has just sliced his throat. Ankou’s death-wagon springs out Septimus’s guitar case and the head reaper catches it in mid-air. Ankou then stomps on the accelerator to ram the Ravens’ front lines, disappearing into an uncertain fate but buying Septimus a little more time. Septimus lays the guitar case on the asphalt and opens it, revealing an orange Gretsch Chet Atkins whose front pickup has been replaced with a black Gibson P-90. He picks up the instrument and slings its strap over his shoulder, looking every bit the goth rock star m
The projected Transmigration Bureau agents charge and scatter the Ravens attacking close to the ground. Kera either slashes them apart with her overgrown talons or bites them in half with her fangs. Ankou throws a barrage of acidic blood-balls just like a rapid pitching machine. And Yama Ranger, on his creepy steed Nightmare, blasts away with his two six-shooters, a lever-action carbine in his third hand and his portal-opening lasso in his fourth. A second group of rescuers arrives at the scene. A few residents from the tenements round the corner and approach with caution not because of the invisible battle taking place right on top of them but at the sight of both Chester and Rina lying on the ground, the first bathed in his own blood and the second having fainted in terror. The gang leader responsible for everything stands transfixed above the bodies. The act of killing a man with his bare hands has finally registered with him and he flounders like a stage volunteer cut off from a h
At this point, I finally get either close enough to the scene or far enough outside Spinstra’s control. I manage to reestablish two-way psychic contact with Septimus. {Fight back,} I tell him. {Use your powers and defend yourself. You’re dying out there!} {Wampus, you came back for me...} Septimus’s voice is filled with genuine relief as though loyalty and friendship are such luxuries to him. And I’m ashamed to think his suspicions haven’t been entirely misplaced. The thought of abandoning him has in fact entered my mind. {There is nothing we can do,} Septimus sends back faintly. {The moment we crossed over to the mortal realm, we passed a point of no return. In the abattoir, everyone is bound to get eaten, even wolves in sheep’s clothing.} {Fight them! You’re the Grim Reaper for Christ’s sake. Show them who you are!} {It is over. I have already lingered too long on this side. Listen, Wampus, there is something I need to tell you before it is too late.} The leader’s on Chester
Although I’m away from the band rehearsal studio, I’m still psychically connected to Septimus. It’s like having a baby monitor in the back of your skull. There’s occasionally some signal interference but you’re lulled into a false sense of comfort. For instance, I’m aware that Septimus is playing th
I had never imagined I’d be serenading someone. In the rain, for starters. But I did. I sang as loud as I could so she would hear. The resonant sound of the guitar floated through the serendipitous background music of dripping rain. I sang the words of “Living Miracle” with the unique charm of my li
I take my leave. My mission to build a bridge between the two love birds is done and there’s little else I can contribute. Septimus seems to be doing just fine on his own too. More to the point, seeing the possibility of love in the shape of Rina and Chester sitting shoulder to shoulder on the sofa
I couldn’t interfere with human affairs. Only in that final moment between life and death was I permitted to make my presence felt; when I severed the thread of life, the Umballicus, which anchored humans onto the land of the living. These were the first of the rules I had to abide by in my new role
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