Page 14 of Mortal Desires

I banged on the door relentlessly, shaking it from its hinges.

“Let me go!” I took a breath, my eyes stinging with more tears. “Penny!”

I cried for a long time. I yelled for help even longer. I hit the door until my hands bled. But even as I felt my blood painting the wood, I couldn’t stop. I refused to give in.

I screamed for a long time, and then finally, darkness.

I woke up to the creepy feeling of being watched. I wanted to pretend to sleep for a little longer. I needed to figure out what they wanted, but I couldn’t hold myself in the same position a minute more. Everything hurt.

Groaning as my eyes opened just a little, a splitting headache anchored my thoughts. Through my partially opened lids, I craned my head up to face whoever or whatever watched me.

“Who are you?”

I was tired of asking that question. With a wince, I pushed up onto my elbow and hurled myself up, sitting with my back to the door.

“You can call me Gert.”

Gert wore a traditional maid costume complete with a black dress and white apron. She had her mostly gray hair pinned back in a bun and her hands busy with a rag cleaning my room.

“Where am I, Gert?” I could barely talk without hurting my throat.

Before answering me, Gert thrust a glass of water into my hands. I noisily gulped, my eyes closing when the icy liquid calmed my sore throat.

“Underworld palace,” she answered, sounding annoyed that I didn’t know.

I was not deterred by her tone. “And who's the goat leg dude?” I handed her the glass, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Gert narrowed her eyes at me and watched. I couldn’t tell how long I slept on the floor but I knew I must look like a mess. My curly hair fell over my shoulder in a knotted mess, my lace dress had holes down my legs, and my hat was nowhere to be found.

“Death has many names,” Gert finally said.

I gaped and she turned her back on me, working around the room even though I saw nothing out of place. Besides me on the floor.

“Is he death?” I took a risk. “Mr. Goat Legs?”

Gert murmured a curse under her breath but I pretended not to notice. Eventually, she looked over her shoulder. “That’s something you need to ask yourself.”

I stood up, my legs so wobbly I had to keep a hand on the wall, careful not to fall.

“I asked him many times,” I told her.

“Another reason I shouldn’t be the one telling you.”

“It’s not a difficult question,” I mocked.

Gert turned and flashed me a look. “Yet you ask it above all else.”

We stared at each other for a moment too long, until I diverted my eyes, took a breath, and said, “I lost a friend, her name is Penny.” I licked my lips. “She’s… dead.”

“Aren’t we all?” Gert lifted her shoulder.

“Some of us aren’t.”

I couldn’t be dead. No one could walk into the afterlife like that. At least, no one should. I shook my head, refusing to think about my own death for one more second.

“I’m worried about Penny,” I tried again. “Please.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. I hated the pitiful look she gave me. “Why would you be worried about the dead? She’s finally where she belongs.”

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