Death's Excellent Vacation - By Charlaine Harris & Toni L. P. Kelner Page 0,83

demanded.

Anastasia’s eyes fluttered open, the faded blue of them cognizant but obviously sedated. A horrible, nasty suspicion filled me at the sight of her dilated pupils. “The demon . . . You must take charge.”

“Now, wait a sec,” I said, shoving my head in between them to try to sniff at Anastasia’s breath. It looked to me like she’d been slipped a mickey. “No one needs to take charge of me. I’m a sixth-class demon. I’m not really bad. Besides, Aisling would skin me if she found out I did anything bad—”

“I am yours to command, Mistress,” Buttercup said, grabbing me by the collar and hauling me back. “Tell me what you want.”

“No, listen to me—” I started to say, but the old lady’s eyes rolled back in her head as she said softly, “I grant you the authority given to me.”

I stared in horror first at her, then at Buttercup as she straightened up, a victorious smile on her face.

“You drugged her!” I gasped, shocked to my toenails.

“You’ll have a hard time proving that where you’re going,” she said, then waved her hands around in a hokey manner and said quickly, “Effrijim, I command you in the name of my mistress, in the name of your Guardian, and in the name of all that is good and right in the world. I banish your unclean being to the Akasha, where you belong!”

“Noooo!” I wailed halfway through her speech, but it did no good. One second I was standing next to a comatose old lady who thought I was distinguished, and the next I was next to a rocky outcropping that jutted up out of a sepia-toned landscape filled with shadows, horror, and endless torment.

Two

“WELCOME to the Akasha. Is this your first time here?” a chirpy voice asked. “Would you like some introductory literature?”

I leaped to my feet and realized right off the bat that something truly horrendous had happened.

“Argh!” I yelled, lifting up my arms and staring with horrified shock at five long fingers at the end of each of the two arms. “I’m in human form again!”

“You certainly are,” the perky voice said, a tinge of disapproval sounding as it added, “And you seem to have misplaced your clothes—by the love of the saints! Don’t do that again!”

I straightened from where I had bent double to look at my feet, turning around to face the person to whom the voice belonged.

A little woman stood in front of me, one hand clapped over her eyes.

“Fires of Abaddon! I got sent to the midget section of the Akasha? I’m in human form in the midget section?”

An irritated look crossed the woman’s face as she lowered her hand. “That term is offensive, and shows archaic and ignorant thinking. We prefer the term little people, not that there is a little-person section of the Akasha.” She took a deep breath, then slapped another smile on her face, but this one looked awfully brittle. “So long as you promise never to bend over again when I am behind you, I am willing to overlook the fact that you are without clothing. Let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes, here is a pamphlet that details the Akasha, including a brief history, notable members, and what you can expect over the centuries. Since you look confused, I’ll give you a brief overview of the situation: The Akashic Plain, as it is more formally known, is what mortal beings think of as limbo, although in reality it’s much more than that. Beings of both light and dark natures are banished here for eternal punishment without any hope of escape or reprieve.”

I took the pamphlet she shoved at me. It was illustrated with faces of various beings in perpetual torment.

“The Akasha is governed by the Hashmallim, who are kind of a form of Otherworld police, although they are not bound by any rules except those of the Court of Divine Blood. Are you familiar with the Court?”

“I can’t believe that rotten Butterbutt changed me into a human when she banished me. She did it on purpose; I just know she did. Of all the double-dealing . . . Now what am I supposed to do? I can’t stand around like this,” I said, waving my hand toward my torso. A horrible thought struck me. I looked. “Satan’s little imps! My package! It’s . . . it’s . . .”

The tiny little woman gave my package due consideration. “Unimpressive is the word that springs immediately to mind, and