The bar at the Hotel Hildebrandt stretched on into infinity. Both literally and figuratively. Kind of a metaphor for the afterlife, I suppose, though I’m not sure what we’re supposed to learn from it.
Maybe nothing. Being dead can be like that.
The room itself was filled with a mix of wraiths and memories. The memories were conjured up from the shades like me. Souls working to keep themselves intact long enough to make it Above, or from being dragged Below. The wraiths were those shades who had failed to hold themselves together. They were faded and gray, barely substantial things that had forgotten who they used to be. The tattered bits of someone’s soul, wrapped in the habits they had built in life.
A bar should have people in it, after all. And music. So, for us, it did - as long as you didn’t look or listen too closely.
Faith was down the bar a way, taking care of another shade. I stared into the memory of a bourbon she’d served up for me, lost in my own thoughts, when a cold breeze carrying the faintest whiff of sulfur passed through me.
I studied my drink as a man stepped up to the bar next to me. Out of the corner of my eye I recognized his cut blonde hair, impossibly blue eyes, and a casual smile decanted into an impeccably tailored suit. If it wasn’t for the scent of brimstone, I might have forgotten he was the most irredeemably evil soul in the City.
He stood there silently until my curiosity got the better of me. “Drosser. What does the Hellhound want with me?”
“Please. Call me Karl. We have known each other long enough, have we not?”
I moved my head a fraction and squinted. He was one of the most substantial shades around, as distinct as me or Faith. “You know, in this light, you look almost human.”
The smile grew a bit broader. “Flatterer. You know what they say. There but for the grace of, well. Someone.”
I grunted. He was right. Didn’t mean I wanted to be reminded of it. I jerked my finger down towards the far end of the bar. “If you want something, Faith is off that way.”
He chuckled. “No. I was looking for you, Abe. I have a proposition.”
You can find “Down Among the Dead Men” and seven other stories of tough men, tough dames, and tough choices in Pinup Noir from Raconteur Press .
Enticing!