It was dark in the Stygian depths, and a light drizzle of sulfur didn’t help any as I made my way into the gloom. Up ahead was a red glow that I knew wasn’t a neon sign, and the chorus of cries from damned souls echoing off the dank walls was enough to make me wish I was back in my office, worrying about bills I hadn’t paid and promises I hadn’t kept.
I couldn’t turn back, not and face myself. Sure, the kid shouldn’t have gotten in deep with the old ones, but she swore she’d learned her lesson…and I’d taken the job of getting her the chance to prove it. This could take some time though, and as it was the shortest night of the year, time was something I was didn’t have much of.
I’d come in from out of the cold, chilled to the bone from the cold winter air, and though the heat up ahead was making me sweat, I still felt an icy grip on my heart.
“Hey. You aint supposed to be down here…not without a special invitation.”
A hand gripped my shoulder, as rough as the voice that came with it.
My shoulder was being held by a vice, and there wasn’t a lot I could do about it, including turn my head to look my new friend in the eye. My hand was free, but the piece in my pocket was loaded with silver jacketed 9 mils, and I knew from painful experience that slugs weren’t likely to make much of an impression on a low grade demon, especially since this one was little more than a mass of animated rock. The little scissors on my swiss army knife probably wouldn’t help either, but this wasn’t my first rodeo, and I knew the rules of the game.
Paper covers rock.
I slid a folded sheet of parchment out of my jacket and held it up for the demon to see (Yeah, I know parchment isn’t paper, it’s skin. In this case treated kosher skin, which works much better. And if you really thought I wasn’t going to mix metaphors, you don’t know me.).
“This is my handy all purpose special invitation, Rocky.” I said out of the side of my mouth while holding up the codex like the ticket to hell it was. “You’ll note that it specifies that, and I quote, ‘any duly authorized shaman may enter the underworld for the duration of sundown portion of the winter solstice, as experienced by said shaman’s corpus residuum.'”
Which is to say, when you take a walk on the dark side, you leave your physical self at the door and take your spectral self along. Really, it’s the same deal for anyone on the other side who comes to call on the quick, all we get is their ectoplasmic projection, but that doesn’t mean it’s not connected to the corpse. Or that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, if you get my drift.
The hold on my shoulder loosened, and I turned to look at my metamophic mugger with eyebrows raised.
“I’ve got to see a demon about a dame. Care to come along?”