The Sword Wielder E-Book

Russell Nohelty

• Herausgeber: Wannabe Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Adventure is calling…and it can go screw itself.

Gwen will do anything to keep her boyfriend alive and protect his sanity. So, when a fairy messenger informs him that he’s the mythical sword wielder of legend, Gwen wants nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, her boyfriend loves the idea, and accepts the call to adventure over Gwen’s strenuous objections.

Now, she must keep him alive while he foolishly travels into the Fairy Realm on a perilous quest. All she wants is a quiet life with the one she loves, but the universe has other plans.

Meanwhile, Rose has embarked on an adventure to rescue Chelle from the Underworld and reunite with her lost love, no matter the cost. It’s about the dumbest thing Red can imagine, but she won’t leave her friend to face the dangers of Hell alone.

Dive back into The Obsidian Spindle Saga for a second arc so exciting it’s bound to leave the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge.

Leseprobe

The Sword Wielder

THE OBSIDIAN SPINDLE SAGA

BOOK FIVE

RUSSELL NOHELTY

Contents

Special Thanks

1. Gwen

2. Rose

3. Nimue

4. Red

5. Chelle

6. Gwen

7. Red

8. Chelle

9. Nimue

10. Rose

11. Gwen

12. Red

13. Gwen

14. Nimue

15. Chelle

16. Rose

17. Gwen

18. Chelle

19. Rose

20. Nimue

21. Chelle

22. Red

23. Rose

24. Gwen

25. Red

26. Chelle

27. Red

28. Rose

29. Gwen

30. Nimue

31. Chelle

32. Rose

33. Red

34. Nimue

35. Gwen

36. Rose

37. Chelle

38. Rose

39. Nimue

40. Red

41. Gwen

42. Rose

43. Chelle

44. Nimue

45. Red

46. Chelle

47. Rose

48. Gwen

49. Nimue

50. Rose

51. Chelle

52. Red

53. Gwen

54. Red

55. Rose

56. Nimue

57. Red

58. Chelle

59. Rose

Author’s Note

The Dark Prince Preview

Chelle

Rose

Also By Russell Nohelty

About the Author

Special Thanks

Alexander Joyner, Allison Grier, Amber Reeves, Ashley & Amba Nevell, B Cooley, BOBBY ZAMARRON, Brett Bennett, Brian Toberman, Caledonia, Caspar Williams, CHAD BOWDEN, Chimera's Comics, Chris Call, Daniel Groves, Dave, Dave Baxter, David Irgang, DAWN LUPTON, Diana P., Douglas A Taylor, Dr. Charles Elbert Norton III, Edward Nycz Jr., Elias Rosner, Elizabeth Peters, Emerson Kasak, Erica Schmitt, Fawn of the Woods, Gerald P. McDaniel, GMarkC, James Kralik, Jamie Minnich, Janet Dopico, Jeff Lewis, Jessica Johnson, John "AcesofDeath7" Mullens, Joshua Bowers, Kara, Karen Bulgarelli, Kimberly Williams, Kenny Endlich, Larissa Washburn, Mark Newman, Martha Carr, Megan Yamamoto, Monkey King Comics, Natalie, Nathaniel Adams, Nick Smith, Noah Carruba, Oliver, Paul Rose Jr., Pierino Gattei, PikKaroKreuzHerz, Rowan Stone, Samantha Flynn, Shannon, Shelley Smith, Sky Fallows, Starcane Press, Stephen Ballentine, Sunny Side Up, T., Thomee Wright, Toni Robb, Victoria Nohelty, and Walter Weiss.

The Sword Wielder

Book 5 of the Obsidian Spindle Saga

By:

Russell Nohelty

Edited by:

Leah Lederman

Proofread by:

Katrina Roets

Cover by:

JV Arts

Formatting by:

Turbo Kitten Industries

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. The Sword Wielder. First edition. January 2023. Copyright © 2021 Russell Nohelty. Written by Russell Nohelty.

Chapter1

Gwen

“Welcome to King Arthur’s Court,” I said, grinning so widely that the sides of my cheeks throbbed. I had been on shift for ten hours and was scheduled until close for the third time this week. Most of my co-workers used Adderall to keep them up, but I did it the old-fashioned way—tons of caffeine. So much caffeine that I could barely hold a tray or refill water cups, my hands shook so much.

But it was okay. It was all okay. I was making good money at a crappy job, and I’d had enough crappy jobs to know that good money didn’t come easy, so I took it as a win, even if I was about to fall over from sleep deprivation.

“Can I interest you in the Round Table platter to start out?” I asked the family of four that had just settled into a four topper. Mama, Daddy, with two adorable children fighting over the pack of crayons I’d brought for them. Usually, the 9 pm crowd was sports fans who drank their weight in beer, ate our free peanuts, and tipped generously as they stumbled away, sloshed. A rather normal-looking nuclear family coming in so late could only mean they were road-trippers, deliriously tired after a long day on the road. They tipped terribly.

As the curly haired mother replied to me, a cheer erupted from the overcrowded bar and drowned out her voice. I used to think sports were stupid, but when the totality of the bar screamed in elation, it meant something good for the home team. After a big 49ers win, tips doubled for the next three days, which made me a fan.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I replied once the cheering died down. “I didn’t catch that.”

She scoffed. “Maybe you should open your ears. I said that we needed a minute. We’ll just take four waters in the meantime.”

“I don’t want water,” the little girl said, slapping her hands against her pink dress. “I want soda!”

“It’s too late for that, muffin,” the man said, exasperated, before looking up at me. “Sorry, we’ve been driving all day, and we’re really hungry. I promise my family isn’t usually this rude.”

“Harold!” The woman shot him a glare.

“It’s okay, sir,” I replied with another fake smile. “Your family is lovely, and I know all about traveling pains. I’ll get those waters. Meanwhile, if you need any recommendations, let me know.”

I spun on my heels and took a deep breath. As I walked away, I heard the mother say, “She wasn’t flirting with you, Harold. She was just being polite.”

It wouldn’t be the first time that a man misread my politeness as flirtation. Heck, it wasn’t even the first time in the last hour. The only solace was those types of men tended to be big tippers. I needed to remember to hand him the bill, even if the wife asked for it.

“No, we don’t have that tonight,” I heard Nimue grumble from across the restaurant. “I don’t know. Get off my back.”

Her red hair shook as she snarled at a couple of men at a table near the front window. Her brown peasant vest wasn’t buttoned, and her name tag was crooked, both violations of the dress code. Why can’t she just follow instructions?

I stopped in front of the ordering screen and entered the four waters for table thirty-six. I checked to see if the nachos for table 14 were ready, as they were a particularly ornery bunch. Seeing that the nachos were done, I swung into the back and scooped them from the order window, leaving before the short order cook, Miguel, could comment about the shortness of my skirt, as if it was my preferred manner of dress and not a ridiculous contrivance of my ‘wench’ costume. Of course, I would never say such a thing because then all of the good shifts would go to Andrea or Christa, and I would be stuck with nothing but the morning breakfast rush, where nobody tipped well—except on Mimosa Sunday, which was a drunken bonanza.

“Here you go,” I said to two long-haired, gruff-looking bikers who had clearly never met an electric razor. I slid the nachos to them and then turned away. I felt one of their hands flick up the back of my skirt and immediately prickled, but I plastered a smile on my face and merely cocked my head with a coy look.

“Fresh,” I cooed as I walked away.

I noticed Nimue fuming as I reached the server station. “Are you going to let them treat you that way?”

“Yeah,” I said. “If I play my cards right, I’ll get a 30 percent tip from those two jagholes.”

She tsked. “You’re demeaning yourself.”

“Says you. I say I’m playing the role of a lifetime, and I’m cleaning house.” I looked over at the two bikers and waved slowly at them. “Besides, they’ll never be in here again. They’re clearly just passing through.”

“How do you know?” Nimue asked.

“Patches on their vest are all from Las Vegas, which I’ll bet dollars to donuts is their home base.”

“Maybe they’re just tacky jagholes who like tormenting cute waitresses and buying souvenirs from places they’ve been.”

“Thank you for the compliment.” I smiled, even though I knew she wasn’t trying to give me one. “And if I’m wrong, then they’ll give me a 30 percent tip next time too, as long as I don’t rock the boat.”

“This is the worst job.” Nimue crossed her arms across her chest and leaned against the counter. “I can’t believe you willingly work here.”

“I don’t willingly do anything,” I said. “This is the best job I can find, and when I find a better one, I’ll leave here so fast⁠—”

“What if you never do?”

“Then I’ll make the best of this one until I die, I guess.”

She shifted her weight to her left hip. “Being a nothing burger kind of sucks.”

“What did you think it would be like?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I thought I could just live a normal life⁠—”

“This is a normal life.” I punched into the order service and noticed that one of Nimue’s orders was ready. “Table six’s order is up.”

“I know,” she replied. “It’s been there for ten minutes. I just can’t deal with them.”

“That’s literally the job. The food’s probably cold now. They’re going to have to make it again, and they’ll dock your pay.”

“They can try,” she snarled.

“They don’t have to try. They just will.”

“This is ridiculous.”

I sighed. “Look, just go home, all right? I’ll handle your section and split your tips. You obviously aren’t in any mood to be here.”

“You’d do that?” Nimue replied, surprisingly open to the idea, like she always was.

“Sure,” I replied. “I stuck my neck out for you to get this job. Remember?”

“Yeah, I do,” Nimue said, exasperated. “Do you want a medal?”

I studied the order service, not looking up. “Maybe a little gratitude.”

“This job sucks and we both know it. You shouldn’t have to risk anything, or get any reward, for helping someone become a slave.”

“Then quit.” I turned to her. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the tenth time. Or the fif⁠—”

“I get it,” Nimue said, holding out her hands in desperation. “You don’t understand. I was a queen in Oz. I was waited on hand and foot, not the other way around. This is so demeaning.”

“This is my life.” I stared into her eyes. “And it’s your life too, your highness.”

She must have realized she crossed a line. “I’m sorry. I will do better tomorrow. I promise.”

“Just go.” I snatched her table’s order. “I can’t look at you right now.”

Chapter2

Rose

What happens when supply outstrips demand in a free market society?

Ugh. I couldn’t care less.

Focus, Rose. This was the last question on my last exam of the semester, and then I was free for the whole summer. A whole summer of sneaking into the underworld to find Chelle.

I was so excited about it that I could barely sit in my seat…but I had to finish the test. I’d already missed one semester from being in a coma, and I couldn’t risk flunking out. By the time I got Chelle back, she would be at least a year behind, which meant I needed to finish school and get a job to support her as she learned to be human again.

Of course, Chelle wasn’t really human, was she? At least, not completely. But it was a little harder to say she had to learn how to half-gorgon/half-human again, though that was technically correct, which is the best form of correct. It just didn’t roll off the tongue quite as nicely.

Mmmmm…tongue. I could still taste Chelle on my lips, even though she had been gone for over a year. I couldn’t wait to⁠—

“Five minutes,” the proctor called from the front of the room. I took a quick peek around and saw there were only ten students left in the once-packed lecture hall. Crud.

All right…what happens when supply outstrips demand in a free market society?

Come on Rose, you know this. I had studied for this exam for hours, even though most of those hours were spent trying to stay awake. I should have at least learned this by osmosis when I fell asleep on top of the textbook.

I pressed my pencil down on the paper so hard that the lead snapped. I pulled out another and stared at the paper. In a rush, all my sleep deprived studying hit me, and I scrawled across the page.

Prices will lower until it hits equilibrium with demand. This is the law of demand.

Halfheartedly, I skimmed through the exam for errors, but there was no chance I had the energy to make sure my answers were right. As long as I got a C or better, I would never have to take economics again my whole life.

I stood up with a big stretch. I hadn’t bothered to change out of my pink sweats before the exam and, looking around, most of the other students made similar fashion choices. The joys of college. Nobody gave a frigging heck about how they looked.

I placed my paper on the top of the stack at the front of the room and smiled at the pimply proctor, noticing a thick layer of gunk caking onto the edges of his thick glasses. He had been the bane of my existence all semester. Now I was free of him and his greasy face.

“Have a great summer,” I said to him, lightly.

“You too,” he replied with a smug smirk. He loved this school so much, and it showed through on every inch of him. Easy, killer. This isn’t Yale. Take your pride down a few pegs.

“Hope you don’t die.” I nearly skipped out of the room. If I had any of my magic left, I would have floated on a cloud. But I’d left it all in the Dream Realm.

Jamil was sitting on the stoop across the hall when I came out of the room. When she saw me, she waved. “Hey!”

“Hi?” I replied. “Were you waiting for me?”

The two of us had grown close since saving the Dream Realm. Even though she totally abandoned me and Hypnos in Reno, I didn’t hold it against her…too much. She pressed her red amulet necklace as she stood. The amulet created an illusion that allowed her to appear as a brown-skinned Indian woman instead of a wood nymph with bark-like skin. The only thing about her illusion that wasn’t a lie were the big, brown eyes that held a thousand secrets behind them.

“Of course I was.” Jamil said, hopping off the ledge toward me. “It’s the last class of the semester. You’re done. I’m done. I thought we could get lunch and tell this school it can suck butt.”

“That would sound lovely, if I didn’t know why you wanted to have lunch with me.”

“Ulterior motives?” She pressed her hand against her chest and feigned offense. “Moi? I’m hurt.”

I picked up my pace as I walked past her. “You have until I get to the car to speak your peace, and if you tell me the truth, maybe I’ll have lunch with you.”

“Oh, the great and powerful Rose will come down from her high horse to slum it with the rest of us?” She rolled her eyes. “What an honor.”

I stopped in my tracks and wheeled on her. “That’s funny, especially since I was the queen of Oz.”

“For like five seconds.”

“Only officially!” I shouted, lowering my voice when a few people looked over. “I was like, unofficially the queen for a month. Will you please just spit it out, already?”

“Fine!” Jamil snapped back. “I know you’re going to the Underworld to find Chelle, and I know you think it’s a good idea, but it’s really a stupid idea. I had to tell you one more time before you got yourself killed.”

“Noted,” I said with my fakest smile. “Is that it?”

“No,” Jamil said, trying to land her next thought. “She’s dead, Rose. You can’t just bring the dead back from being dead.”

“Gabrielle was dead once, too, and look at her. She’s kind of sort of normal.” Red had escaped the Dream Realm and joined me on Earth. Once I got Chelle back, Red was going to have to find a new place but for now, it was nice to have company in the large apartment I’d rented. “Why can’t Chelle come back? You know as well as me magic is as powerful as it is stupid. Who knows the rules, really?”

“First, Red is not all there, and you know it. She’s completely clueless about anything and everything.”

“That’s just because she’s like, ancient. Chelle isn’t from some ancient version of Earth. She’ll be fine if she comes back. It will be just like old times.”

“Nothing will be like old times. There’s no going back.” Jamil sighed. “It’s not healthy, Rose. You’ll never get over her if⁠—”

“I don’t want to get over her. I want to get her back.” I bit my lip, trying to contain my anger. “Your objection is noted, now piss off.”

Jamil caught my arm when I started to walk away. “Wait.”

I broke free of her grasp. “What?”

“I don’t want you to leave angry.” She pulled me tight. “I love you, even though you’re an idiot.”

I squeeze her tightly. “I love you, too.”

After a long moment, she released me. “Please, can we have lunch? I promise we’ll just talk about stupid stuff, no Chelle. I’m buying.”

I chuckled. “That’s funny. You’re broke as a joke. I’m buying.” I had a chunk of change that Hypnos, the god of sleep, had given me.

“Phew,” Jamil said, throwing her arm over my shoulder. “I was hoping you would say that.”

Chapter3

Nimue

I rolled off of Brad, his skinny chest heaving after I had my third climax, and finally allowed him to finish himself off. I ran my finger across the hideous purple scar that crossed over his heart and stood out against his pasty skin, a constant reminder of a surgery from his past. It was revolting but I liked it. Things in the Dream Realm lacked flaws. I enjoyed that humans on Earth were full of messy ones.

If I had magic, I could have fixed him. In this place, I was powerless. I thought I wanted to be a nothing, to disappear into the world and live simply…I was wrong. Living as a commoner grated at me more than I could endure.

“We should stop,” Brad said, a loop he repeated every time we had sex. “Seriously this time.”

I didn’t even like him. What I liked was the feeling of control, of taking what I wanted, and of doing something forbidden.

I took his hand and slid it across my naked, freckled breast. I never gave much thought to my own body when I was stuck in Urgu, but I had taken to examining every inch of myself now that I was stuck in this new body. My nipples were tiny, little things, and the areola covered up a fourth of my perky breasts.

Still, it felt amazing to be touched again, even by one as unimpressive as Brad, and I let out a soft moan as he squeezed my tit. “If you insist.” I took my free hand and ran it down from his chest to his crotch and squeezed his inner thigh. “Do you insist?”

He was putty in my hands, and I knew it. His mind was so weak that it was barely enjoyable to twist him around my finger. I wanted to devour him again, but he would have to pay for saying that I could no longer have him, and the best way to make a man pay was with unfulfilled anticipation.

“Uhhh…” Brad moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

A wicked grin rose on my face, and I pulled my hand back. “Actually, I think you might be right.”

I rolled off the bed, releasing myself from his touch. I reached for my white cotton undershirt and threw it over my naked chest.

“Wait!” Brad said. It was far too easy to manipulate men, especially this one. He was broken from years in the asylum and had been back in the world for such a short time that it wasn’t fair to keep playing with him. I never would have settled for such easy prey in Urgu, but it had been harder than I imagined acclimating to Earth. Having something easy made me feel the rush of power that I missed so acutely.

“I’m sorry, Brad. You make a very compelling case.” I grabbed my pink underwear that I’d purchased with Gwen on my first shopping trip when I returned to Earth. After slipping them on I pushed open the door to the room—Brad and Gwen’s room—and headed out into the hallway.

I stopped for a second in the floor length mirror in front of the bathroom to look at my new body. Bernadette had been a track star before her coma, and I was grateful she was attractive. If Etsop placed me in the body of a hag I don’t know what I would have done with myself. She really was effortlessly beautiful, and though I used to question that in my old body, with Bernadette I never did.

This thing with Brad started innocuously, as this kind of thing always did. At first Gwen asked me simply to watch him and I agreed. I was so grateful for her believing me, for befriending me, that I would have done anything for her. Soon enough, though, it became a chore. Like so many things, I ached to spice it up somehow. It didn’t hurt that my teenage body was a hotbed of swirling emotions that yearned for release.

Between Brad’s inability to leave the house and my naïve understanding of the world, we started learning together, and that led to talking, and that led to bonding, and that led to fu—and so on. The first time led to the second and soon the guilt was gone. Now, nothing but the power remained.

“Wait!” Brad said, running out of the room wrapped in his blanket. “We can do it one last ti⁠—”

A light rapping on the front stopped him in his tracks.

“Get back in the room,” I snarled. “Hello?” There was no answer, but my heart was aflutter with possibilities. Had Gwen lost her key again? Had she heard us? The idea of being found out caused me to tingle all over, and I twisted the doorknob nearly breathless with anticipation.

That fizzled when I was met with a big, fat nothing behind the door. Something skittered away, but I didn’t see it. When I stepped into the hall to get a better look, a letter fell onto my foot. I knelt to pick it up and found that it was sealed with wax and an official stamp. The yellow-tinged letter was addressed to “Sword Wielder” in elegant calligraphy.

“Who is it?” Brad shouted from behind his door.

I closed the door and palmed the letter. Gwen had asked me not to share anything with Brad until it went through her first, and I agreed. “Nothing. They must have had the wrong apartment.”

I carried the letter to my bedroom and placed it in my sock drawer. I would show Gwen when she got home, and we would figure out what it meant together. Even though I was a terrible person, she was still my best friend and the only person I trusted, which perhaps said more about me than I cared to admit.

Chapter4

Red

“All right, speed daters!” The overly perky host exclaimed from the front of the bar. “Who’s ready to find love?”

There was a half-hearted cheer from around the room as the group of us shared looks of trepidation and hope. I’d had trouble fitting in on Earth after I escaped the Dream Realm, and Rose thought that finding love might help. It hadn’t ever helped me before, but I didn’t know much about this world. I had been stuck in Urgu for hundreds of years working at the pleasure of the ruler of Oz, and Hypnos. Against my better judgement, I decided to give Earth a shot.

“We’re going to start in three minutes,” the woman leading the event said. She smelled of cardamom and paprika. “Women, find your places.”

I knew I was attractive. That much was clear even before I entered Urgu. I had been approached by both men and women innumerable times during my time as the Red Rider. The Dream Realm was lonely, and the years moved on endlessly with little if any change, so finding comfort with another boat in the storm made sense. Though I had my share of encounters, they all felt hollow.

Still, I couldn’t deny that since I returned to Earth, I felt the pull of my body more acutely than I had in Urgu. The Dream Realm was a dull replica of Earth. Everything looked and felt real, but with the edges filed off. It felt as though if you looked in the quiet places just right, you could see it all fall apart. The food more bland; the smells less potent. In the past year, I’d had to work hard to avoid sensory overload.

When the bell rang, a broad, stocky man sat down. The blue shirt he wore looked like it would explode off him at any second and I caught a whiff of acid and pine, as if he bathed in bathroom cleaner. Everybody had their own personal scent on Earth.

“Hi,” he said, holding out his hairy hand. “I’m Greg.”

I inched my hand forward. I had groomed myself for the occasion and allowed Rose to paint my nails a light pink. My hand fell daintily into his callused one. “Gabrielle.”

English still felt odd on my tongue. I had learned it in the Dream Realm, but there the world was simply translated for you. On Earth, I still struggled to understand people. When I managed it, my English was accompanied by a thick French accent. I longed to return to my native France, but I wasn’t ready to leave Rose, not yet, not when she promised we would soon go on another adventure.

“That’s a lovely accent you have,” the man purred. “Where are you from?”

“A small town in France originally, though I’ve been living somewhere else for a long time.”

“Mysterious,” he said with a thin chuckle. “Where is that?”

If I ever took a lover, I would have to tell them the truth eventually and hope they would understand. Until then, I chose to lie through my teeth, an act which I despised, but had found to be an integral part of life on Earth.

“A little here and a little there. I’ve been all over. It’s been like living in a dream.” The best lies were the ones that hid a bit of truth in them.

“Well, you can run around my dreams any time, beautiful.”

Ugh. Before I could reply to his nauseating word vomit, the bell mercifully rang and the gruff man left, replaced by a tall, erudite one with a long face that looked as if he never smiled. He smelled of lilacs wafting in a pleasant meadow.

“I love lilacs,” I said with a faint smile.

“You have a good nose,” he replied, his voice light and tender. “The smell reminds me of my childhood.”

“Where did you get it?” I asked.

“There’s a farmer’s market by my house and the soap maker there has the handsomest fragrances.”

“I would be happy to get their name,” I replied, eagerly. It was the first smell in a long time that made me feel anything other than revulsion.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry. I was trying to be coy. The soap maker is me. I try all my scents out on myself first, but lilac honeymoon is my favorite. My name is Tom.”

“I watched a documentary that said human fat made the best soap. Is that true?”

He laughed again. “I think somebody has been watching too much Fight Club.”

I cocked my head, confused. “What’s a Fight Club?”

“A movie that makes a mockery of my passion. Have you really never watched it? It seems like everybody your age has seen it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And how old do you think I am?”

Tom sucked his teeth. “Oof, I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“A little bit, but now I’m curious. How old do you think I am?”

He scratched his head, then leaned in close. I could see him examining my blue eyes and my face. I felt seen for the first time in a long time. Not lusted after or noticed, but truly seen.

“Twenty-four,” he said. “Though you have the skin of a newborn. What is your regimen?”

“I’m quite a bit older than that, I assure you.” I smiled. “And you’re going to hate me, but I really do just wake up like this.”

“Have you thought of modeling?” Tom asked. “I could use somebody with flawless skin for a new line of soap I’m launching. I think you could be perfect.”

“I’m not much for all that. I prefer to remain anonymous. I appreciate it though. You’re quite a flatterer.”

He leaned in even closer. “Can I be honest with you about something?”

“I suppose so, as long as you don’t expect me to do the same.”

“Oh, heavens no. I like a girl with a bit of mystery.” He looked to either side, like he was about to drop a big secret. “I hate it here.”

“Yes, these things are the worst.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. I can smell it on you. You don’t belong here, either.”

“What are you—” Before I could finish the bell rang.

“Time to find the next table,” the host called out. “Don’t forget your survey cards.”

Tom did not break his gaze. “Let’s leave. We can eat pizza and discuss matters of the heart, and where ours truly lie.”

I hadn’t felt such electricity since I’d come back to Earth, and yet a darkness behind Tom’s eyes scared me. Then, a thought ran through my head. If he was a sociopath bent on hurting me, that could be fun. I hadn’t been in a fight in ages.

“Okay,” I said, staring back. “Let’s go.

Chapter5

Chelle

I pulled three wooden softballs from the ledge under me and turned to a little ghost boy on the other side of the counter. “All right, all you have to do is throw one of these through the duck’s mouth, and you win a prize.”

I smiled and handed the kid all three balls. He didn’t have to know that the holes were too small for the balls to fit through. The smile on his face was enough. The Limbo Carnival was one of my favorite places in the Underworld and being stuck working it wasn’t so bad, though it would have been nicer if I had a choice in the matter. Maybe I was lying to myself. Maybe the carnival was as awful as the rest of Hell.

At least the children who populated it weren’t bad, and I wasn’t stuck torturing them. The children in Limbo were just unbaptized or otherwise impure and would one day get a chance at reincarnation. Until then, they weren’t supposed to ever feel true joy. They wouldn’t feel pain, either.

The kid in front of me wore suspenders and a little, beige, newsboy hat. If I had to guess, he’d been at the carnival since the 1920s, and yet he still kept a childlike wonder about him. Most of the children lost their love of the games after a few years. The younger souls wanted video games and arcades. Spoiled little brats.

The boy lined up a shot and fired a ball at the duck’s mouth. It was wide left, but I still clapped. “Good job, kid. Two more shots.”

There was only one prize in the whole booth, and nobody had won it in the year I’d worked there. A couple of kids came close. I did the math after seeing that even perfect shots bounced off, and that’s when I realized that the game was rigged. Carnival games on Earth were all rigged, and it was the same in limbo. After all, it wasn’t like money mattered down in Hell, anyway.

The kid fired another ball. This one bounced off the background with a loud smack, though it’d come closer. “Fiddlesticks!”

“One more, kid. This your last coin of the day?”

“Yeah. I traded the rest for a snow cone.”

“Make it count, then,” I replied. “This has gotta be the hundredth time I’ve seen you here.”

“I really, really want that swan, ma’am.” He looked over my shoulder at the goose plush that hung behind me. “My mama used to read me a story of an ugly duck that turned into a beautiful swan…it was the last thing I heard before…before…” He didn’t have to finish his sentence for me to know what he meant before he died. “I’m gonna win it for sure this time. I have a good feeling about it.”