Chapter 37: Death’s Got a Brand New Bag

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Sci-Fi and Fantasy Erotica  |  House: Outer_Limits

Reads: 31
Comments: 1

Chapter Thrity-seven:  Patrice

Death's Got a Brand New Bag

I eased down into the bubbling spring behind my modest one-story chateau at the onset of nightfall.  Time has no meaning for me until now.  At each creak and groan, the flesh trapping my soul dies.  It disconcerts me and burdens my mind with worry.  Time also operates in a manner I cannot anticipate as I can in the mortal realm.  It may tick faster in some spots of Faylinn and slower in others.  This realm is the major one where other planes intersect before diverging on different paths. 

“Ahhh,” I breathe aloud before shutting my eyes.  The edge of the pool allows me to stand but experience the effect of the minerals at work reaching the top of my chest.  “Feels so good to be home.”

I need to relax.  It has been one of the most stressful times in memory.  COVID-19, the black death, the world wars throughout the centuries never consumed me in so much strife as this one woman named Patrice Zita.  Since passing through Tartarus and returning to the safety of my residence thanks to Raphael, I am alone with nature, save Patrice, of course.  The troublesome female slumbers in my bed after her nearly supernova episode in front of my brothers.

“How did you do that?” Uriel probes as he gapes at me with wide eyes. 

In self-preservation, another may fling this flesh bag far away.  I hold Patrice in my burning arms, knowing that I sustain worse damage not long ago.  Pain blisters along my skin, tightening it, causing it to char and split.  I control the hurt somehow as I tremble with it yet refuse to let her go.  My concern lies with her fragile mind and the cracks I see forming that I help put there.

The Archangels and I stand in a small outcropping of caves in Tartarus.  The temperature is not so extreme here but a dry heat.  Raphael, Patrice, and I meet Uriel in this spot that offers some privacy.  A smart move to shield us from any unwanted ears or eyes of titan or demon spies. 

Raphael grips my shoulder to extinguish the flames that climb my arms engulfing my hoody and hair.  He heals me again, but my clothing does not mend. 

“Why assume such a risk?” my other brother solicits with the tilt of his blond head before his glowing golden hand lowers upon Patrice’s skull.  “I sense a boundless animosity from her toward you.  Should she keep this up, she will kill you and herself.”

The muscle in my jaw clenches as my stomach unsettles in knots that confuse me.  “I know.”

“You know?” Uriel stares at me as if I lose my mind.  It is not the first time for this and I almost chuckle if not for the miserable way I feel.  Raphael cannot mend the burden on my heart. 

“I do, yet I am tethered to her.”  Inside her mind, I see it spark with life in her anguish and way too much power.  Raphael aids her, but this is temporary.

Part of Patrice has a first-rate aptitude for my abilities.  However, she gets unsettled easily leading to overload.  Left unchecked with unresolved issues feeding volatile emotions, Patrice will obliterate me and anyone else foolish enough to be nearby.  That probability increases with time.

“This is problematic,” Raphael announces low as he considers my statement.

“I expect she will be.”  The two angels stare at me as if I am dead already.  We all realize that the inevitable has been delayed not defeated.

“What now?” Raphael inquires, the calm bleeding through, but his hands nervously rub one another.  He turns slightly between me and Uriel.  Neither of us say anything for a moment until I break the silence and shift Patrice in my arms.  She is not the largest woman in this realm, but her weight tires my arms.

“If you can lead me home,” I suggest to him, “I need some rest.  Afterward, I will make plans for next steps.”

“You cannot afford to rest.”  Uriel runs a hand through his flame hair.  “Too risky.”

With distaste, I respond, “I understand, but this body requires it to function properly.  I cannot think, so debilitated by pangs of tiredness, thirst, and hunger.”  I smack dry lips.  My throat makes me believe someone pours sand down it.  Loudly my stomach growls, protesting its empty state.  As disgusting as it seems, my own roasting flesh scent hovers in the air, and my mouth salivates.

“Of course.”  Raphael squeezes my shoulder and I jump with a shiver trying to shake the thought from my mind.

“Thank you, Uri and Ra for everything you have done for me and her.”  I swallow because I am sincere.  The future for me right now is bleak, but the arrival of Ares signifies how much worst my life becomes.

“Good luck, brother,” the Archangels say together.

Towering over me by a foot, Raphael carries Patrice and I in his long-muscled arms.  I ready myself for another plane shift in taking deep breaths.  My brother merely flies from our enclosure through Tartarus on his grand golden wings.  We avoid the lesser demons and titans who would love to hurt me in their infinite jealousy. 

At the gate to the pit Uriel guards and only has the keys, Raphael lands.  The barrier can be surpassed only by the opening on foot.  He approaches in wide strides that have me jogging to keep up at his side.  I wish I still have the power to hover.  The black iron gate opens by Uriel who chooses not to be seen.  In the clear on the other side, Raphael scoops me and Patrice back up into the air. 

Each flap of the Archangel’s giant wings hurtles us closer to the most complicated exit.  Raphael winds his way through the Winding Stair of Dolor.  It shapes in part like a well yet no exterior light penetrates this place at this level.  The path flows upward at irregular angles until the last turn.

“Let there be light—” I start to say with excitement because the heat does not bother me so much. 

Raphael finishes, And it was good.

The radiance shifts from flickering torches to the kind that kisses the skin with rays of sunshine.  A deep sigh escapes my lips that curve in a smile.  Finally, we emerge from the depths of the world.  The air that suffocates like a convection oven now refreshes.

The most discomfort that I experience prior to this moment, comes in the form of howling and wailing.  My body once tense against my brother as my ears ring at the piercing lament of lost souls, relaxes.  The grip on Patrice’s limp body loosens.  Miss Frumpy has not stirred in my arms, which is good, I hope.  She requires rest for her weary mind and body to heal. 

When Raphael shoots out of the secret entrance to Tartarus, we soar the open skies of Faylinn.  To be home on the surface lends to me a sense of liberation.  It fills each breath I take.  The sinking sun on the horizon paints so many pinks and violets around Her canvas.  Below, the same reflects on the tan band of rocks twisted into buttes and craggy spires. 

“So beautiful,” I marvel with tears in my eyes and do not know why.  Much goes on with me that I fail to comprehend but endeavor to learn what it all means.  Some I may glean from Patrice and her memories… I struggle with the thought, frowning in concentration.  Those foreign things abscond my vicinity, blow away like hay and make no sense.

I agree, Nathaniel.  Raphael shares in my mind and am comforted without realizing why I am upset.

Mako Sica stretches to greet the grassy prairies of the happy hunting grounds that do not smell of fire or brimstone.  I drag it deep in my lungs; amazement arrests me at the sharp sweetness.  Honeysuckle and lilies delight my senses in the past but not to such an extent I wonder if I ever really smell these fragrant flowers. 

Raphael flies low so as not to distract from the scene I adore.  He swings east to allow me to enjoy the last of the prairie landscape so far from my home in the Virginwood.  We surpass much of Nanog, flying north of Elysium and notice a hint of Avalon in the distance.  In the thicket of evergreen and fir trees, Raphael descends.  The scenic views from my vista since the sun slips below the horizon plant a smile on my face as we land outside the wards of protection surrounding my stucco home.  He places me on my feet with a smile.

“Can you stay for tea?” I ask as I shift Patrice from my arms to a broad shoulder.  She remains asleep as I flex my aching arms.

“Another time perhaps?”

“Of course, and thank you for helping.”

Raphael expands his wings to take off but hesitates with the tilt of his head.  “You are different.”

I snort a laugh that has no humor.  “I have no power, and my heart beats.”

Raphael chuckles.  “You are wrong about your power, yet that is not what I mean.”

I shrug not understanding what he means as he smiles briefly.  To be honest, I do not believe I care about anything but satisfying my immediate needs.  One of which involves, peeing. 

Ugh, being human is going to be the end of me before Patrice!

“None of this will get any easier, you know that, Nathaniel.”

“I know,” I acknowledge because it is obvious, and I have no energy to deny it.  I shift from foot to foot at the urge to relieve the pressure down below.

“What will you do for healing while I am gone?”

I stare at him in mock surprise.  “What?  You are not up for an adventure?”

“It is the end of the rope extended, brother.”  From his satchel at this side, he pulls a smaller sack woven of burlap.  He tightens the draw strings before handing it to me.  I accept it.

“Thank you.  I will use it wisely.”  Our hands grip for a moment and then Raphael slips away.  “Are you sure you would not like to reconsider?  You could wear one of your infamous disguises.”

“Afraid not.  I have been ordered elsewhere,” he says with his usual calm and offers a smirk with the shake of his head. 

“Gabe or Mike?”

“Neither Serafim, which is strange.  She has decreed it so from on high, and as we know, we must obey.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you from your duty.  Take care, Ra.”

“Stay safe, Nathaniel, and for Her sake do not rest here long.  Make way to whatever destination you must.  Please keep moving.”

“I will take heed.  I swear.”

Raphael nods before he fades into another plane, no doubt.  I am grateful he saves me the headache of such wicked travel.  The flesh bags are not made of the durable stuff to allow for it.  In a dash, I retreat inside the house to take care of my needs before I further soil my distressed clothing.


Submitted: September 10, 2023

© Copyright 2023 Amy F. Turner. All rights reserved.


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As you just pointed out, two needs which mainly summaries the human species… the need to fuck and the need to pee… other than those two there is nothing really…

Sun, September 10th, 2023 3:51pm

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