Audition

“I must admit.” Rowan said, circling the battered green Chevrolet, “This isn’t exactly what I was expecting.”

Death shrugged.

“I mean, to be honest, I wasn’t really expecting anything, but if I had been, well...” Rowan waved his arm at the tall imposing figure in front of him, “it would have been, you know, the whole Blue Oyster Cult, black robes, horse, that kind of thing.”

“The truck works well enough.”

“Well yeah.” Rowan grinned at him, “So is it all true then? Hell, fire, brimstone, the whole caboodle?”

“Perhaps.” Death said impassively, “Although there are ... alternatives.”

Rowan glanced down at his still present soul-body, “Well alternatives are sounding good at the moment. Given I’ve probably got an eternity of endless-hellfire on the line.”

“I’m hosting a competition, a sort of tournament, in the underworld.” Death watched the young man’s reactions carefully. “If you win, you get to come back, along with one other soul of your choice.”

“I can come back?” Rowan looked up eagerly. Five years ago he would have said no, because Hell probably wasn’t a huge step down from life as a back-alley prostitute but now, he was considering. He had a lot more to lose now, a lot more time for one thing. “Will I still be, uh, a vampire when I come back?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet.” Waylaying Vlad outside the torn-down gothic nightclub had been the best thing he’d ever done. It had given him a life without fear of disease or injury; a life of constant pleasure in the safe knowledge none of it would kill him. A life of the closest thing to immortality which, ironically enough, had been cut short only five years later. “And what was that about another soul?”

“You can bring someone else back with you, when you return.”

Rowan frowned, trying to think. He didn’t have many friends, and most of them were still alive. “Uh...how about my dad, is he dead?”

“Yes.”

“OK...I’ll bring him then. If you can find him.”

“I can find anyone.” Death said, with a trace of smugness and then lifted off his hat. Rowan stared into his eyes first confused and then awestruck as they played through a scene; a man, laying in a gutter, twitching faintly as his drug-riddled body gave in to the cold.

“That was my dad?”

“Yes.”

“Oh...well, I guess it would be worth it just to punch the guy.” Rowan reached for the handle, but was stopped by a rough hand.

“You realise, once you get in the truck, there is no turning back?”

“Will it keep my ass out of hell?”

“Yes.”

“Well fine then. Let’s go for it.”

***

The truck rattled its way along, following some path of its own devising through a shrouded misty landscape. Rowan propped his head on his hands and stared out of the window, trying to remember the name of the man who’d managed to set fire to him. Fire, that was what Vlad had said, fire was pretty much the only thing that could kill vampires, although decapitation and enough garlic could slow them down a lot. Rowan was determined to make it back, now he knew he had a choice, and manage a bit longer than five years this time.

“Hey,” he asked after a while, “If I‘m dead, how come I still have my body and everything?”

“It’s the morphic memory of your soul.”

“Ah.” Rowan considered the statement, “What does that mean?”

Death didn’t answer.

“One question, what the hell do you get out of this whole deal?”

Death hesitated slightly “Your soul.”

“I have one of those? Nice. Won't you get it anyway now I'm sort of dead?”

“No. As a vampire your soul would usually remain by your body, in case of resurrection.”

There was a patch of light ahead, and the truck seemed to be heading towards it. Rowan blinked in astonishment as they drove out into a grassy field filled with the sound of battle, the clash of swords on shields, and the trampling of horses.

“Where the hell are we?”

“I have another collection to make. This is a different universe to your own.”

“Woah...sweet.”

Death swung himself out of the truck as a lone and confused looking figure approached, dragging a sword along behind it. As it got closer, Rowan realised it was a young man, dressed in a battered leather breastplate and trousers which looked a good few centuries old.

“I’m dead aren’t I?” The man gave a sigh and stared at the ground. “And as the Maidens of Valcor have not arrived to take me to the halls of my fathers, I can only assume I have failed in my task as a Warrior.” Death started to speak but he kept talking, as if this were a pre-arranged speech he had rehearsed many times, “I can only hope that I have retained enough of my honour and dignity to deserve a swift and speedy torture in the Halls of Shadows, and so I, Alex of Riverlake, give myself up to whatever punishment you see fitting.”

Rowan suppressed a snigger.

“You are not dead.” Death said as soon as he could fit a word in edgeways. “I am here to offer you a deal. A bargain. A chance to save one soul of your choice, and to bring it back to this world.”

Alex looked up, the despondency in his eyes replaced by a wary hope, “To...save one person?”

“Yes.”

“One who is already dead?”

Death gave a smile, “Ah yes, many of your training companions have already been taken, haven’t they? Your friends throughout your studies and lessons in knighthood.”

Alex nodded, “There was one...especially...”

Death took off his hat and Alex gave a gasp as he looked into the flickering eyes and saw Dorian, the friend he thought he’d lost, riding out as he had on the last day of his life, laughing and joking. Quickly, he turned away, not wanting to see his friend die for a second time.

“Anything.” Alex said in a choked voice, “To bring him back, anything.”

“Very well.” Death gestured towards the truck, “But once you get in, there will be no turning back.”

Alex lifted his chin with a determined glare, “I do not mean to turn back.”

“Get in the truck then.” Rowan said impatiently, holding the door open. Alex gave him a slightly uncertain look then crawled in, trying to touch the truck as little as possible.”

“What is this strange device?”

“It’s a chevy.” Rowan answered helpfully.

“Oh.” Alex desperately tried to push down all the feelings of fear and insecurity. He was a Warrior with a mission, and he would not let Dorian down.

Rowan stared at Alex’s broadsword and bow, “Wow, where did you get all that metal-ware from?”

“This is my armour. I’m afraid it is only plain.”

“Yeah.” Rowan swallowed nervously. “Plain. Right.”

***

“Hey Death?” Rowan asked as they headed off back through the fog. “This...task thing. The Labyrinth. Will there be many people from his universe, you know, with swords and things?”

“Probably, yes.”

“Ah.” Rowan frowned, then turned abruptly to Alex, “Hey...how about sticking together, yeah? When we get in there? You with all your weapons, me with...well, me as well?”

“That is not allowed.” Death said from the front, “You may group together if you wish, but each group is allowed only one soul.”

“I am sorry.” Alex shook his head, “But I will not give up Dorian’s soul while I may save it.”

Rowan did a quick mental calculation of his chances alone versus his chances with Alex, “OK, fine then. Screw my dad, let’s get your guy out. We’re staying together.”

“You’re certain about that?” Death asked.

“Yep. I’ll stick with, uh, Alex of where-ever-it-was. Get whoever he was after out.”

Alex turned to him with a look of mingled joy and uncertainly, “You would do that? For me? Give up your chance of reuniting with your father in order to aid a-“

“Yeah, yeah. No problem. I never even met the guy.”

Alex grasped his hand, clearly regretting his uncertain first impression which had been mainly based on the flashy waistcoat and tight trousers than Rowan himself, “Thank you. Thank you...more than anything.”

“Any time.” Rowan said, trying discretely to get his hand free. “Just as long as you’re willing to protect....woah...”

The scenery around them had changed. Instead of the grey mist there was suddenly a sprawling downtown city stretching out around them. Rowan stared out the window, entranced at the flashing lights that promised gambling, pleasure and all manner of sin.

“If this is hell I’m seriously regretting the whole tournament thing!” Rowan shouted above the noise.

Alex shivered, “Everybody’s in chains...”

“Some people like that kind of thing.” Rowan shouted back, but he had to admit, after the initial rush of excitement, the city was beginning to lose its appeal.  The people were indeed weighed down in heavy chains, and they had a hunted, desperate sort of look. The flashing lights made them look almost ill, as their skins flickered from red to blue in the neon glow.

The truck stopped outside a large white door. Death unclipped his seatbelt and motioned for them to get out, “Here it is.”

“Through the door?” Rowan asked, while Alex grasped his sword tighter, trembling slightly.

“Yes.”

“Well then.” Rowan gave Alex what he hoped was a comforting smile and stepped forward to grasp the handle, “C’mon kid. Let’s go.”