Dying Wish

[33] By the Fire

"You're an incarnate from AfterLife," Alice muttered onto my nape.

"When we get home," I told her. 

"And your dad... is God... Gray, my head's spinning." She buried her forehead into my back.

Nobody was out anymore. Probably because of the, well, peculiar weather. We turned onto Rose Lane. Everything inside the house was where we left it, but the energy was different. Changed. I set Alice down and closed the door. I went to the kitchen, rolled up my sleeves, let the soapiness of the suds and warm water rinse the dust and death from my hands.

"Gray, how—"

"I'm cold," I interrupted. "Pretty sure we have leftover cocoa from those brownies you made the other night. I could go for a hot chocolate. I'll put some on for us. Don't worry, Eli showed me how to make them."

I was popping the cabinets, doing everything but looking at her. I gathered all the ingredients.

"Hey, we're home now," Alice said. "You need to talk to me."

"Do I? I'm just playing. I do. After we warm up. Want to help? Go turn on the fireplace in the den." Our drinks would be ready soon. I offered to bring hers. Of course, I asked, "You want whipped cream on yours? Pretty sure we have that, too."

"Yes, please."

I grimaced from a cough. Still dusty in my throat.

"Mm. Ok. Be right there, Alice."

She left.

I poured two mugs of steamy brown fluid, let the white cream hiss from a red nozzle. I went to find Alice. Orange light strengthened near the outlet of this dark, desolate corridor. Shadows danced to the rhythm of crackling flames.

The floor switched from stone to wood. The air was so warm already. Alice's palms overlapped behind her back, to cushion her tailbone from the bricks. Staring emptily into the flames. I approached at my own risk.

"Here."

I offered her her mug. She took it, that's it. I sipped.

"That's good."

"Gray, don't make me pour this on you. You're teasing."

"I'm nervous." I looked into the fire. Another sweet swig passed my lips. "Never thought I'd be talking about this. Would you prefer to ask your questions one at a time? Or do you want me to tell you outright?"

"Whichever will be more truthful."

Ha. Truth.

"Alice, I wish you knew how funny that is. Spent my entire life— my entire existence thinking I knew the truth. Turns out, I was being lied to. By omission. And omissions are lies. I don't care what anyone says. Wouldn't you know it, I've done the same rotten thing to you, haven't I? I really am like you, Dad."

Her fingers interlocked mine. "Go on. I'm right here."

That opened the floodgates...

"Everyone in AfterLife has a creator. Sometimes two. Depending on how powerful you are. God is mine. The last one, anyway. I thought the cosmos of him. I wanted to be him. I was going to be, too. It was my dream. Always was. For thousands and thousands of years. I'd always tell him, 'Dad, one day, I'm taking over for you.'"

He'd smile and tell me something like, "Maybe you will," or "Only time will tell."

"He never corrected me. Not once. That's because he already had his successor in mind. And He, our new God, picked me to be His Death."