Author’s Note: Death, cancer, magic, incest, and a touch of Norse traditions.
Ta to ScottishTexan for inspiring a line – from their “That Girl Next Door”.
All the stories in my “My Sister’s a…!” series are standalone, but have common threads. A suggested reading order is on my profile page, too.
—
There were exactly two things that everyone knew about Grace.
First, that she was a fighter. By which they didn’t mean that she was determined and worked hard to achieve their dreams. They meant that they were terrified that she was going to plant her knee-high boots halfway up their ass.
It wasn’t that she was a complete psycho, but she did seem to have some sort of divine being hating on her. Grace had always ended up in some truly ridiculous situations.
For instance, one time she had been on her way over to her brother’s house for his birthday, with a two tier chocolate cake she’d just baked. However, she was running late and so Grace had decided to duck through the park.
She accidentally ran through the middle of two groups of people that actually were living in a different reality. Fists and knives had come out between them, and they didn’t take kindly to the more ordinary citizen daring to witness their violence.
Grace had walked out of the park, calling for an ambulance with the undamaged cake in one hand, and thirteen assholes moaning on the ground behind her.
The second thing that everyone knew about Grace, was that she was a prankster.
For some people it was hilarious, but for most people she just drove them nuts. The kind of things she did weren’t the kind of objectively horrible trash that people would film and upload for their fans to laugh at. However, what she did was the kind of thing where you couldn’t prove it was her.
One of her favourite tricks was the haunted house. You’d wake up one morning and there’d be one or two things just very slightly out of place to how you remembered it. Weird, but you’d dismiss it.
Then, when you go to sit down for breakfast or whatever, the chair underneath you would suddenly take off flying. Sometimes literally.
Then, whilst you were still rubbing your ass, words would fade in on the wall. Sometimes looking like the wall was bleeding. Sometimes the letters would appear one by one, in exaggerated cursive. Always telling you that you’d been pranked.
Never a signature, but you wouldn’t need one.
That being said, once you’d finished freaking out or laughing, and went back to your day, you didn’t have to worry about the cleanup. Just as mysteriously as everything appeared, it’d disappear again. Grace always cleaned up after herself.
Used to clean up after herself.
Her brother laid the single rose in front of the urn sitting on his shelf, feeling guilt and anger sloshing around inside his confused head. Even a year on, he felt angry that she hadn’t proved as strong a fighter when it came to cancer. He felt guilt and self-hatred at himself for feeling that anger towards her.
Grace had been twenty three when she’d… Lost the fight.
The expected lifespan of women is less than men, in most places in the world. Australia was no exception. Men could expect to live for about five years longer than their female counterparts, at about eight and a half decades.
Six decades more than Grace had managed. She had managed to make it more than a quarter of the way through her life expectancy, but only barely.
Not even halfway through her life, and she was gone.
Grace hadn’t told anyone that she was even sick. The first hint that Elliot had picked up on, had been that over a month had passed since his sister had last decided to prank him. He’d asked her if it was because she’d got a boyfriend, and she’d given him the most puzzled look in the world.
He still hadn’t worked out what was wrong when he’d got the call from the hospital that she’d passed peacefully in the night, and named him as the family member to deal with everything that entailed.
He’d thought it was a spear-phishing call.
“A year.” Elliot whispered, letting go of the rose reluctantly, “It’s been a whole year… And I’m still dealing with the crap you left behind. Did you really have to subscribe to every single streaming service? I keep telling them you’re… Gone… And they keep apologising, but that doesn’t stop them from charging you next month. Doesn’t stop them trying to send your debt to collections.”
He’d made the decision not to delete her email account, early on. That choice had repeatedly saved his butt. Every time he thought he’d handled everything, a new damn bill would pop up, saying that Grace’s card had been declined, and they were unhappy about it.
Which was ridiculous, because he’d actually confirmed with the card companies that if someone tried to charge her card, they would decline it – but they had a protocol or something that gave the reason for declining as the fact that the card owner was dead.
You have to be pretty cold, to charge the dead.
Elliot gave another minute to the silence, and then he walked away from the urn. He headed for the kitchen, flicking on the kettle and pulling a mug down from the cupboard, overhead.
He rubbed his chin tiredly. It might be the anniversary of his sister’s death, but the rest of the world didn’t really care. His work had given him the day off, but they would just be piling up today’s crap for tomorrow. Members of his team were likely to resent that he hadn’t been around, as well.
His job wasn’t one that was all that difficult, really. He took premade templates, client expectations and write-ups, and put them together to build crap business websites. He was capable of a lot more, but spinning up a template would take a few hours, and bring in a few thousand dollars. More profitable than building something halfway decent, from scratch.
It was boring, but consistent.
Elliot pulled out his phone as he waited for the kettle, and glanced over his emails. As predicted, most of them were work emails and thinly-veiled complaints that he wasn’t in the office, helping out.
There was also an unexpected email. One automatically forwarded from his sister’s address.
Opening it, he stared in confusion at a postal notification. At first he figured it had to be spam or phishing or something like that. Dead people don’t get mail, a year on.
However, it really did link to the actual post office, where it said that they’d received notification from the shipper. Didn’t have a prediction for when it would send out, but the address wasn’t for his sister’s house. It was for his.
No more hints than that, however. No name or address for who was doing the shipping, and no size of the package being sent. It could be anything from an envelope to an elephant.
Had Grace tried to arrange sending him something, after she was gone? He wouldn’t put it past her, to try and get one last prank in.
Her ability to time it, was impressive, unless she had someone living who was collaborating. Like a lawyer or friend. Shipping on the day, instead of the arrival, did make him feel like the timing might be a coincidence, though.
Elliot looked up from his phone in annoyance, to glare at the kettle for taking so long. The device however, had apparently already clicked off, and he hadn’t noticed it.
“What the…?” Elliot made a frowning face as he poured the hot water into his mug.
His kettle was not quiet. It was a cheap-ass electric kettle, that had cost him less than a ten dollar note. So it was loud, but fast.
The weird bit, was he was still hearing a loud and grumpy whistle from somewhere in the house.
Elliot picked up his hot drink, and idly walked around, cocking an ear and trying to figure out if the noise was inside the house, or was just something really loud somewhere just outside.
The sound changed as he got closer, moving from a whistle to a kind of quiet clunking.
He stared in confusion, holding the mug awkwardly in one hand, and opened the door to his ensuite bathroom. Edging it open slowly and stepping into the room, not knowing what to expect.
The shower was going at full ball, and the clunk was coming from the freezing pipes trying to heat up.
The glass sides of the little shower were just starting to fog up, as Elliot stood and stared in confusion. There was nothing else amiss in his bathroom, but someone had spun the taps on the shower. It wasn’t something that could happen all on its own.
He turned it off, scratched the back of his head, and poked around the bathroom a little more. He didn’t come up with anything, though. Nothing so much as out of place.
—
Halfway through lunch, as Elliot was actually putting a toasted sandwich into his mouth, he heard the shower firing up, again.
The food fell to the table as he scrambled towards the bathroom, throwing open the door.
There was nobody in the room. There was nowhere for anyone to go, which wouldn’t have meant running into him. The window was barely a foot square, and it didn’t open. However, the hot tap was spun wide open, and the glass walls of the shower were beginning to slowly fog up.
Elliot stared in absolute confusion, scratching the back of his head.
It wasn’t like a tap could turn itself. Dribbling, due to contraction, sure. Or maybe a half turn if his water pressure had somehow tripled. But the thing couldn’t completely spin around, three or four times. Not without someone actually doing it.
Elliot stared as he heard the sound of water rubbing on glass, a chill running down his spine. He forgot how to breathe as a line curved around slowly through the fog, as if someone was drawing on the glass from the other side.
The line arced upwards, then downwards, before swiftly turning upwards, and then back down to join into a love heart.
He took a terrified step backwards.
His heart went from fast, to flipping out as the doorbell interrupted his panic.
Elliot stumbled as he moved towards the door, putting a hand onto the wall, and one onto his heart. He could still hear the shower, having left that freaking thing running.
He still wasn’t exactly breathing as he opened the door to find a hand delivery. The man in the bright yellow uniform held out a touchpad with pen, that didn’t really work, and Elliot signed it with a shaking hand.
The guy handed him a half-crushed box with a dozen `delicate’ stickers on it, and then tipped his hat and headed back to the van and pulled away from the curb.
Meanwhile, Elliot kind of just slid down one wall, and tried to remember how to breathe.
—
He dumped the parcel on the table, and went back and turned off the shower. The love heart in the fog had vanished, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t seen it.
Unrealistic or not, he knew it had happened.
Impossible, or not.
That done, he went to the table. And immediately had another heart attack, as he found the parcel turned to face him, and opened. It was a box of chocolates, and the lid was thrown back to show them off in all their crushed glory.
“Who the fuck is it!?” Elliot yelled, glaring around, “Not in the mood for this shit, today! Not today! Get your ass out here!”
Dead silence.
Though, considering how riled up he was, he didn’t blame them if they decided just to hide out. He wouldn’t want to face himself, right now. The pranks were pushing at someone who was already feeling at the end of their tether.
He was still hurting, still thinking about his sister. He could see how someone might think it fun, to replicate her particular brand of chaos. He could see someone thinking it might be cathartic, to duplicate her humour. Except, it was short-sighted and stupid.
His patience was frayed, and his emotions were riding high. He’d lost the girl that he cared about, and he was not over the fact that she hadn’t told him anything, before he lost her.
They’d never had a chance to say goodbye.
The chocolate box lid slowly closed.
Elliot’s cheek twitched, “Seriously. Who the fuck is it?”
“M-me?”
He squealed like a little girl and sprinted out of the front of the house. He reached the curb before he considered that it might have been a recording.
The voice had been Grace.
It had been nervous, and guilty, and it had been… Her. The woman he had last seen at a funeral, a year ago. That he had taken to a crematorium, and taken home as nothing but ash.
His sister that he had cried over. That he had yelled at, and complained to, almost daily, for the last year.
She… Was… Gone.
It wasn’t someone pretending to be her. It had to be a recording, to go along with all the other bullshit crap that someone was pulling on him, today.
He was going to find out whoever was trying to prank him, he was going to take their head, and he was going to put it through a brick wall.
Elliot’s jaw set as fear turned to rage, and he stormed back into the house. Where he immediately stopped breathing, and fell to the ground, hard enough to hurt his butt.
The woman sitting on the table, idly swung her crossed legs and smiled at him nervously, before tucking a long brown strand behind one ear. She swallowed, “Uh… Hi.”
“The… Fuck is this!?” Elliot screamed, pushing himself upright, before wincing and touching his tailbone. “You died. I saw you -”
“Yeah. Still dead.” Grace interrupted him and shrugged, “Cancer totally fucked me. I never had a chance. It was stage four before I found out.”
“You were dead before I found out.”
She flinched and swallowed again, “Yep. I deserved that. Uh… Okay. Um… Before you think I’m just fucking with you… Try and touch me.”
“Mirrors?” Elliot said angrily, passing a hand through her face with what would have been a gentle slap to the face, if she was physical.
Grace shook her head, “This is… Not a prank. I’m still dead. Actually, no one else can see me. Mostly. I’ve been here… A while. Took a long time to work out how to… Do stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Help you see me. Drawing a love heart on the shower. Using your tablet to buy some chocolates. That kind of thing.” She shrugged weakly, “It’s me. I’m responding to you. Not a recording. Not a projection.”
“I… Should find a doctor.” Elliot said dubiously.
Grace crossed her arms, “I… I’ve been trying to prep you for this. Lily said you’d freak. But… I think I’d be handling it worse than you. So… Congrats?”
“I really don’t think you’re real.”
She rolled her eyes, “Noooo shit. Oh, I was the one who kept restarting the streaming stuff. Sorry. Being dead and invisible is boring. I managed to pop up for Lily about a week ago, so that’s why I bought the little celebration box. Because I could finally come back, for you.”
“Who the fuck is Lily?” Elliot shrugged, feeling dizzy and beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling. The girl in front of him really did feel like Grace, who was… Gone.
His sister shrugged, “Witch. She showed up to exorcise me after I… Kinda refused to die. Kicking Death’s ass for trying to touch my soul, apparently set off some kind of alarm for her or something. Took me a few days of running and begging, for her to agree not to outright send my soul to hell.”
“Hell’s real?”
Grace shrugged, “Maybe? I dunno! The witch was just going to make me move on. I don’t know what that means, any more than you do.”
“So, can I call the witch?” Elliot rolled his eyes.
His sister bit her lip, “Or, uh, turn around?”
Elliot turned around slowly, expecting to see a bright light and his sister standing there with the tools of the special effects trade. What he was not expecting was a white-haired woman, leaning against the wall with crossed arms and looking seriously pissed off.
He took a half-step backwards, “How the fuck did you get in here?”
“I’m late for my hockey game.” The girl replied with irritation. “First, just ask, and I’ll dump her soul back in the stream. I don’t like this, not one bit. But I’m the boss and the story she gave me… Let’s just say I’m sympathetic.”
“Hockey, stream, what?” Elliot stared.
The woman walked up to him and tapped his cheek lightly, and then glared at his sister, “She’s haunting you. Usually, I’d put her down. No second thoughts. But we had a thing with a zombie a few weeks back, and that was weird as fuck, too. So I want to know if something is fucking with the balance or some shit. So… It’s wait and see.”
“What?”
She glared at him, “Oh, fuck it. Your sister is a ghost! She’s back. If you want the haunting to stop, call me. You’ll find my number in your phone. And now, I’m leaving, before Ryker gets all caught up with Wynne. Again.”
She strode by him, without a word to Grace, and towards the front door. Not out it – she walked into the wood and disappeared.
Elliot fell into a nearby seat, but he also pulled out his phone. And found a new contact, for someone called Lily. Which was a little disturbing.
He could still see how it might be possible for an elaborate prankster to pull that one off. She might have followed him back into the house. She might have pickpocketed him and added the contact. Mirrors for the disappearing act.
Grace bit her lip, and smiled at him, “Come on, El. Please. It’s really me.”
“And you’re really dead?”
She nodded, “Yeah. Sorry. I did sort of want to tell you… But… What would the point have been? Wreck your day for something neither of us could do shit about? I know! I’ve seen how much not being able to say goodbye, hurt you. I’ve been here, a while. But… I didn’t see it that way, before.”
“If it’s really you… Fuck you.” Elliot stated flatly.
She winced, “Yup. Deserve that, too.”
“If it really is you… I don’t want to eat one of those chocolates, do I?” He raised an eyebrow, considering the way she’d announced her presence. Or had been trying to, until he ran away.
Grace went a little paler, and a little more see-through, “Uh… No. No, you do not. Most of them are real! Soft chocolate inside a harder shell. Top of the class, European, shit. But… One of them is… Bad.”
“Spicy?”
“I never do spicy. It’s… Uh… A brussel sprout. Pre-boiled to bring out that particular flavour.” Grace confirmed that it was a trick she’d pulled once before, whilst also confirming that whoever was making the puppet or hologram or whatever, knew Grace.
He’d never seen a deep fake as good as this, not one you could project into the real world and believe it was real, but Elliot just wasn’t up for believing in life after death.
He might have spoken to his dead sister, but he didn’t expect her to actually hear it. He’d done it to relieve the stress, not because he believed in gods or heaven and hell.
“I can still touch stuff. But it takes… Focus.” Grace said slowly, and reached over to him. Elliot shivered as he felt two delicate fingers run across the back of his hand, whilst he could see through the hand doing it. “I’m… Really here, El.”
“If this isn’t real, I’m going to find whoever is behind this, and introduce them to Blood Eagle. Slowly.” Elliot said very seriously.
Grace shrugged, “Sounds fair to me. But… I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, ever again.”
He turned his attention back to his half-eaten lunch, and tried to ignore the girl sitting nervously and staring at him.
She kicked her legs back and forth, and sighed heavily, “Here, when you’re ready to scream at me.”
—
Elliot did his best to ignore the weirdness in his house. After lunch, he caved to his guilt, and grabbed his laptop. Throwing together two of the more urgent builds for his work. Also helped distract him from the ghost in the room.
Whilst he was doing that, the girl in the jeans and hoodie, grabbed his tablet and idly scrolled through some online shopping sites. Every couple of minutes she gave a guilty look in his direction.
Every time he noticed her looking at him, his skin crawled. She really did look, and sound, and act, exactly like his sister.
He couldn’t see even her, faking her death. Not for a laugh, and not for this long a time. She wouldn’t have let it go on for an entire year. Maybe a day, before apologising and saying she’d gone too far. That was it.
Not… A year.
“So, why are you bugging me?” He asked eventually, whilst looking at his laptop and pretending to concentrate on the form he was filling out for the hundredth time, reminding another company that Grace’s credit card had been cancelled because she was gone. “And not a boyfriend or something?”
“God, you’re thick.” She said in irritation, looking up from his tablet, “I thought I understood why you never said anything, but you really didn’t know, did you? You still don’t.”
“Don’t, what?”
Grace scoffed, rolled her eyes, and went back to what she was doing. “As if I’m ready for that conversation. Maybe after you admit I’m real.”
He tore a piece of paper out of his notebook, screwed it up and tossed it at her. It bounced off the wall behind her. “Aha.”
“I have to concentrate to grab stuff! Dick!” Grace said, before swiping the ball of paper off the floor and throwing it right back at him. He ducked it, and explained again to himself that it was just inside possibility that someone was puppeting things. If they were, they could respond, but only after a second to adapt.
He was seriously going to kill, whoever it was.
—
Elliot came awake, spluttering. Staring up at an empty glass of water, and through the girl holding it with a grin.
“Grace!”
The glass fell onto the bed, and she burst out laughing, “Morning!”
“I’m going to kill you!” He grabbed for her, and fell forwards and hit the ground.
She laughed, and sat down on the bed, “You love me. I don’t have to run away, anymore. That’s one bonus for not being physical. So… I suppose until you admit I’m real, I’ll be waking you up.”
“You soaked the bed.” He muttered as he dragged himself upright.
“I’ll do the sheets, whilst you have breakfast.” Grace shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Elliot sighed, “So… The bastard using the memory of my little sister, still doesn’t know when to let go of a joke?”
“Shoulda actually pissed on you.” Grace glared.
He stumbled by her, “Not my kink.”
“So…?” Grace skipped beside him, holding her hands behind her back.
“So what? And weren’t you cleaning the bed?”
She rolled her eyes, “What is your kink? Come on. I’m dead. Who am I going to tell?”
“The asshole projecting you.” Elliot said, but he wasn’t so certain, anymore. She was following him easily. No disappearing and reappearing.
She might not be solid… But she wasn’t taking the kind of time to adapt that a computer puppet would need. Even if there was a human telling her what to say, listening in, it would take time to generate her voice. Especially the changes in tone.
“I’ll tell you mine.” Grace grinned at him, “Well… Some of them. Don’t think you’re really up for the big one. Like… I gave someone my bra, at a nightclub, once.”
“Ignore.” Elliot replied and entered the kitchen.
“Being ignored is really not my thing.” Grace replied lightly, “Dead fish or playing a game. If I’m trying to screw you, then you better well be panting in my ear.”
“Ew.”
She stepped in front of him, and he stepped through her, reaching for the cereal.
Grace sighed, and then asked, “What’s so… Ew… About me liking a little bit of sex? I wasn’t a total prude in life.”
“You’re my sister. Sort of.” He replied, pouring a bowl, “I am not interested in talking sex with you.”
“Well, fuck you!”
He spun in surprise as she popped out of existence. Elliot stared at the place she had been, and wasn’t sure if he should be grateful that his haunting was apparently over, and disappointed that she was… Gone. Again.
The second feeling instantly won. Pain and loss rolling in like it was the day of the funeral, all over again.
Elliot glanced at his breakfast, and shoved the bowl back on the counter. Eating that felt like a one way trip to throwing up, right now. Speaking felt like he might end it in tears and swearing.
He wasn’t sure who he would be cussing out. The prankster, his sister, or himself. Probably all three.
At least he had work today, so he didn’t have to pretend to be a human. He could work like a mindless drone, and forget about his haunted house.
—
“Oh, god damn it!” Elliot said in frustration, and looked across the hotdesk, “You got any internet?”
“No.” His coworker said in frustration, glaring at her laptop and running a hand through her brunette hair. Janice was never one to hold back on the anger front, but she never made a secret that she saw work as work. She wasn’t here to be anyone’s friend.
Elliot yelled across the room, “Hey, Damien!”
“I don’t know!” The tech guru yelled backwards, sounding pissed, “Everything says the WiFi should be up, but it isn’t. I’m restarting the bitch.”
Damien was not someone you wanted to push too far. The guy might have been a nerd, but he was built like a linebacker. Usually, the man was the sweetest thing in the world.
If you asked for help on how to write an email, he would sit down beside you and guide you through each of the steps without hesitation. He’d also go back to his work station and write a custom step-by-step guide, based on where he guessed your expertise was at.
If someone bought the office a round of coffees, then that would be Damien, as well.
However, just because he was nice, did not mean that he didn’t have a temper. If he wanted space to solve a particular problem, you gave him the space to do it.
Elliot sighed and leaned back in his seat.
As he did, he had a minor heart attack. Grace smiled at him sweetly, and toyed with a thread of her fringe, plaiting it idly. She didn’t say anything, and glancing at Janice, it didn’t look like anyone else had noticed her.
Just his personal demon.
He glared.
Grace shrugged, and smiled sheepishly.
Elliot rolled his jaw and whispered, “Is it you?”
“The WiFi? Yeah. Kinda.” Grace nodded, “I mean… You were ignoring me. I actually kick Death’s ass, just to hang out with my brother… And he goes into work. Fuck you, El. I mean… You’ve got every right to swear your head off at me and rant… But… Don’t do this. Please? It took me a year! Please.”
“I’m going for coffee.” Elliot stood up, “Want anything, Janice?”
“Don’t you fucking dare buy her shit!” Grace yelled, jumping to her feet and poking him in the chest, “I’m the important one, here. A year!”
Elliot stared, and Grace instantly stared at the floor and shrugged. Not even offering an explanation. He double-checked she wasn’t physical, trying to wave his hand through her.
“Heard you.” Janice misread the movement, “Uh… Sure. Latte? Sorry. I was in the middle of pushing something to prod. Trying to work out what broke.”
“Sure, sure.” Elliot replied lightly and turned, “See you in a bit. Damien, want anything?”
“A new fucking router!” The man yelled, and then changed tone, “No, I’m fine. I’ll fix the damn thing. I’ll give everyone an update in twenty.”
Elliot headed out the front door, and spoke quietly, “So. You got my attention. Now, what?”
“Five minutes. You’re giving me five minutes.” Grace stepped in front of him and crossed her arms. “Even I couldn’t project a ghost in the middle of the city. I am fucking here, you fucking asshole. Stop ignoring me like you’re a three year old!”
“I’m… Not ignoring you.” He said slowly, and then winced, “How… How can you be here? I… It’s you. It’s actually you.”
Her face instantly changed, “Oh. So… I didn’t need that tantrum, did I? You uh… Just needed…”
“Space to process.” He nodded.
Grace kicked at the ground in embarrassment, “Well, um… Sorry? Can we… Can we go somewhere you’re not uncomfortable talking to me? Considering no one else can see me. Well, except witches.”
“Witches are real.” Elliot mused as he headed towards the cafe around the corner, “So… What kinda stuff can they do?”
“Creepy shit.” His ghostly sister replied, as someone walked through her.
“And, what about you? Disappear, reappear. Walk through things… How do you not fall through the ground?”
Grace shrugged, “I dunno. I just don’t. Why don’t you float off into space?”
“Gravity?”
“And how does gravity work, smartass?” Grace said with a grin.
Elliot winced, “That’s… One of those things where physicists can keep talking for hours, isn’t it? So… I guess I dunno.”
“Exactly.” She replied, nodding her head as if she’d just won an argument.
He ducked into the line at the cafe, and considered things for a minute. Then he whispered to the woman standing idly beside him as customers rushed through her on the way out the door. “You uh… Want anything?”
“Your freaking attention. Got secrets to spill.” She shrugged. “Coffee? Uh… Dunno if I can work out how to drink that. Might steal some of yours, now that you’ve offered, though.”
“Secrets?”
Grace shrugged again, looking bored.
The phone in his pocket buzzed, and Elliot pulled it out to see a message from Lily. Pulling it up, it was a lot less frustrated and annoyed than the woman had seemed the day before.
% Ghosts can do coffee.
% But she’s craving a milkshake.
% Chocolate and strawberry swirl.
He smiled and tucked the phone away. Not even trying to guess how Lily knew where they were or what they were doing. The witch was a witch, and despite the offers to exorcise his sister, he thought she might actually have their best interests at heart.
Maybe something like an overworked government employee.
When it was his turn to order, Elliot asked for a cappuccino, a latte, and the milkshake. When he put it at the end of the order, he saw Grace grin excitedly, before trying to bury the emotion and pretend to be totally impassive.
“Just let me drop in Janice’s, and then we’ll head to FedSquare.” Elliot stated, “Then we can have all the conversation in the world, as I just look like another crazy person.”
Grace ignored him, and snatched the milkshake out of his hands. Sipping excitedly at the straw, as she floated the paper cup down the street, dodging the unobservant, or uninterested, city folk.
—
Elliot sat down on the stone seat, “I really hope people seeing the milkshake just think I’m playing a magic trick, or something.”
“Magicians hit the Square, all the time.” Grace rolled her eyes, sipping at the drink.
He nodded, taking his time and waiting for her to spill whatever exactly it is that she wanted to talk about. He… Didn’t want to screw this up. He was too scared to apologise for his rants, or his dickish behaviour when she came back.
Elliot really didn’t have a clue what to do next. What do you do, when you realise that your undead sister is sitting beside you, after you basically ignored them for a full day?
“I wasn’t going to fight it.” Grace whispered, “When… When Death came for me. Big ugly fucker, and he didn’t carry a farming thing. He had a damn warhammer or some shit. Like being collected by Thor, not some nice guy with a thing for cats who speaks in capital letters.”
He choked on his coffee, “Holy shit.”
“Apparently he still had balls. Kicking him there, worked.” Grace shrugged off that she had fought a god or demon or something along those lines.
Elliot looked at her, but she was staring intently at the ground, and looked like she was dying inside. This was just as heavy as the conversation that they nearly had, before he lost her.
“I missed you.” He whispered, reaching out to try and squeeze her shoulder, before falling through and having to catch himself.
Grace sighed glumly and nodded, “You’ve got no idea. I… Just shut up for a minute? I… I thought I had this figured out. Spent the whole year, hanging out in your house, coming up with what I wanted to say. But all I wanna do is cry.”
“Then cry.” Elliot whispered.
She rolled her eyes, “You are so bad at listening to me. Which is part of the problem. Kinda. I’m the problem. So… So, I uh… I was going to let myself… Move on? Death for dead people? I dunno. The next thing. But I didn’t. It… It wasn’t a whim.”
Grace leaned back, and put her milkshake aside, looking up at the cityscape. She bit her lip and really did seem to be struggling hard not to burst into tears. Elliot did as he was told, and kept his mouth shut.
She swallowed, “There was something I wanted to do. Cliche. Guess it’s a cliche for a reason. Unfinished business. Something I never did whilst I was alive, and it was stupid and… And now I’ve got no reason not to try.”
“Aha?”
She turned and looked at him sadly, and then surprised him by leaning over and planting a kiss on his lips. She wasn’t all there, at first. Something cold and tickling, that rapidly turned into something warm and soft that was pushing into him.
The kiss didn’t end there. Grace clambered into his lap, giving some sort of pressure, but not quite touching. She put her hands behind his head, and he felt each individual finger as she pulled him in tightly, passionately making out with him.
For his part, Elliot was too in shock to respond.
All he could do was hold his breath, as his little sister who he had known all his life, kissed him. His little sister who used to turn up with cake and a gift card, on his birthday, without fail. His little sister who used to prank and tease him, every chance she got.
His brain was running a million miles an hour, screaming that he had missed all kinds of signs that she might like him. It was also screaming that none of this could be happening, and that he must be having some kind of twisted wet dream. Because she was his sister.
She’d treated him like he was an idiot, when he asked if she had a boyfriend. Not because she was sick and dying… But because the boyfriend she wanted was unavailable.
She had stopped with the pranks, because she didn’t want him yelling at her to be their last memories together. Then stopped coming over, because she didn’t want him to hurt when he saw just how sick she actually was.
Grace broke the kiss momentarily, and whispered, “You can kiss back, y’know. I won’t mind.”
“I.. You’re…”
“No one can even see me.” She whispered, and then resumed the kiss before he could work out what he was trying to say.
She’d sworn at him because he said it was gross to talk sex with his sister. One of the first things she’d done after coming back, was ask about his kinks… And say that she wasn’t willing to discuss her biggest, just yet.
Elliot tried to push her away, his hand touching nothing but air.
She got the hint though, pulling away, and giving him a brief flash of tear-filled eyes before vanishing.
“No, don’t!” He yelled, drawing the attention of onlookers. Elliot winced and hoped she was still technically around, “Grace. I… I just needed to… Talk. I wasn’t… I wasn’t telling you to go. Fuck!… Fuck.”
The milkshake beside him was knocked over, spilled.
She was gone.
—
He didn’t go back to work.
Elliot had hung around at the Square for a while, hoping to hell that Grace would reappear. When nothing had happened, he’d headed straight home. Not bothering to even collect his laptop from the workplace.
He did have the wherewithal to text, just saying that something had come up. So that nobody went hunting for him. He didn’t need to try and explain himself, right now.
Getting home, he found his bed was made and tucked in, with fresh and still-warm sheets. He didn’t find any other trace of Grace, however, and calling out to her only made him hear his own stupid voice.
He shuffled around glumly, trying to think how he should have handled things, how he could have done anything better.
Eventually, he found himself in front of her ashes.
The rose he’d laid in front of the urn, only yesterday, was withered and dead. The bright red petals were brown with tight streaks as they began to crinkle. The green stem looked like someone had dried it out to be kindling for a fire.
He picked it up, turning it over slowly.
It was the same flower.
Elliot didn’t have another one to replace it. He’d bought this one specifically for her anniversary. Marking one year that she’d been… She hadn’t been gone. She’d been watching him, desperate to tell him how she’d felt.
The first thing she’d done, when she’d come home, was drawing a heart in the shower. Telling him that she… Loved him.
“Holy shit.” Elliot sucked in his breath, feeling that weight crashing down, crushing him completely. The responsibility of being the one that his sister cared for. He couldn’t protect her, from himself. He was a failure as a big brother.
More important than that, however, was getting his head on straight. If he could manage to find her, or summon her, or whatever, then he needed to have an answer to give her.
Elliot had never, not once, thought of Grace as a woman.
Mostly because she was too busy pissing him off, laughing as he chased her for dousing him with a cup of water in the morning. Or feeding him a chocolate wrapped brussel sprout. Or yanking his chair as she made out that his house was haunted.
She’d been flirting. He’d just tried to get his own back with a tickle attack or whatever. Seeing her as a sibling.
Grace’s theory that it didn’t matter anymore, because she was gone… Was a good one. Did the rules and cultural sensitivities of the world matter a damn once you’d crossed the biggest threshold?
She’d fought fucking Death itself, for a chance just to be with him.
“Death has balls.” He smiled sadly, giving a tiny laugh at the image of his sister delivering a knee to the groin of a skeleton. He wondered how shocked she was that she’d actually hit anything.
“Oh, that’s just the one she met. There’s all kinds of death gods. Half of ’em have tried to kill my brother.”
He yelled, staring at the white-haired witch who had snuck up on him. Just casually reappearing in his house, like it was nothing.
“Not nothing.” Lily shook her head, “I… Saw that Grace had up and disappeared on you. Got a bit concerned. She’s really impatient, isn’t she? Won’t give you two days to even come to terms with the fact she ain’t all dead.”
“Uh… Yeah. I guess.”
The witch took her hat off her head and spun it idly, “She’s not… Gone. Not entirely. But… Sorta. Okay. Cards on the table. I said I sympathised with her. It’s because… I’m in love with my own brother. Dating him. Magic folk aren’t as caught up in that stuff as the rest of you.”
“Oh.” He didn’t really know what else to say.
Lily nodded slowly, “So… The death god that Grace met? That bastard is called Thor, for real. Your sister is an einherjar. Odin chose her, as a worthy warrior spirit, to join him when he tries to fuck around with Fenrir. She’s in Valhalla.”
“In… Valhalla.” Elliot flinched, “So… She did leave.”
The woman nodded, “Yeah… But that… It’s kinda why I’m here? Look. She’d love it. Fighting and drinking and cacking herself laughing as everyone thinks she’s got Loki’s legacy. But… If you’re willing to go through a bit… You could bring her back. You could have a third chance, if you wanted it.”
“Holy… Fuck!”
The witch gave a nervous laugh, “Eh… Yeah. So um… Text me? When you make up your mind. Grace is probably happy there. But she’d be happy here, too, if she gets you.”
“What… Exactly… Did you mean by, go through a bit?” Elliot was still reeling, but felt that might be an important tidbit.
Lily shrugged, “You’d have to go there. I’ve been, a couple times, which was so not fun. Hela’s a bitch, and was… Doesn’t matter. The morons there are always drunk. They’d invite you in for a drink, but have you ever sat around drinking with someone who thinks the world of themselves? It sucks balls. Sucks even harder, when they’re encouraged to practice war and can’t die. But you could.”
“I could die… Trying to see my sister’s ghost?” Elliot asked dubiously.
The witch gave a small laugh, “Consolation prize? If you do die, then Odin is sorta obligated to let you stick around. Dying in a fight against someone in Valhalla is proof of being worthy, or whatever shit that asshole uses to judge the dead.”
“Valhalla is real. So… The vikings got death right?”
“Nope.” Lily shook her head, “I’ve met a ton of gods. Death gods and unholy gods and gods that’d make you shit yourself if you meet them. I still got no clue what would happen when I die. Magic doesn’t help the world make sense. So uh… Just go with it. Oh! I completely forgot to warn you, before. Sorry, I was late for hockey and… That doesn’t matter. Now that you know about magic, if you meet a witch, they’ll know you do. So… Welcome to the party?”
“That sounds like it’s going to suck.” Elliot shook his head and then rubbed his eyes, “So… I guess I don’t exactly have a deadline for this… But the longer Grace is there… The more pissed off she’d be, when I eventually turn up. If I waited a year, she might stab me, herself.”
Lily smiled at him, “Finally. You’re starting to see things her way.”
“You think she’d be happier, here.”
The witch shook her head, “Uh uh. I’m not making any choices for you. Got enough on my plate being the White Witch, thankyou very much! I make life and death choices for thousands, everyday. I’m not doing it for you and yours. You knew her. You decide.”
“I don’t wanna know what the White Witch is, do I?” Elliot asked.
She laughed and shook her head, “Probably not. You’ll sleep better, not knowing.”
“Right.” He nodded, “Uhm… I’ll text you… And uh… Thanks. For this. The milkshake. It’s appreciated.”
“I’m the White Witch. Part of the job.” She shrugged, “Don’t make Grace wait too long before you make up your mind.”
Then, she was gone.
Leaving him alone with a dead rose.
—
Elliot spent most of the rest of the day, and night, fretting. Was Grace happier in a literal heaven of some kind? Was he willing to swap that, for a chance, just a chance, that they could be happy as a couple?
Spinning it, over and over, he was interested in her. Seeing her laugh, and chasing her after a prank, those moments were golden. Grace might know exactly how to piss him off, but even then… She was his perfect girl.
Problem with that, though, was it was all about him. She was in a literal heaven. He could absolutely picture her dancing on tabletops and smashing mugs of ale. Arm-wrestling some beast of a guy, whilst downing a drink and barely paying attention, because arm wrestling can be held with technique alone if someone is dumb enough to only care about strength.
Elliot could even see her baking a cake, and yelling at the crowd of drunken warriors to show some respect and not just scoff it all at once. To use their cutlery, and to thank her.
Right before they discovered the layer of cabbage hidden underneath the icing.
He had to admit to himself, as he continued to stress, that he still hadn’t really come to terms with either her death, or her return. His head was not in the right place to try and deal with the kiss she’d given him, the promise of more, or the thought he needed to decide whether to risk his life, to ask her to stay by his side.
He never expected to fall asleep, but around six in the morning, his body gave up and his head dropped. He fell over sideways on the couch and was lost in the strange state between awake and asleep, where dreams can still steal you away.
—
“Time to blow out the candles!” Grace announced, slipping a leg across Elliot’s lap. Sitting down and smiling at him before planting a long and loving kiss.
He looked at the spoon in his mouth, as she fed him the cake. Grace rolled her eyes, “No. It isn’t poisoned. I gave up trying to kill you after I realised you’d still be my brother, even dead.”
“I’d totally haunt you. Get you back for the haunted house stuff.” Elliot replied.
Her eyes twinkled, and she smiled innocently, “What haunted house stuff?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He crossed his arms.
Grace twirled on the top of the table, reaching under her t-shirt to extract her bra. “Oh, just shut up and live a little, El. You never wanna just do anything fun! Life’s for the living. Here. Have a little memory.”
The water fell onto his head, soaking him and making him sputter. “Grace!”
She giggled and sat on his lap, leaning down and kissing his forehead lightly, “You love me. And you know it.”
Elliot’s head jerked upwards, dim eyes taking in the morning light spreading into the loungeroom. He snorted as he did, and then groaned, “I… Know it.”
Then he collapsed forward again, and into a deeper sleep.
—
“Milkshake?” Elliot jerked awake, and instantly felt alone.
He shivered, feeling freezing for some reason, and then rolled into a sitting position on the couch. He dragged out his phone, and felt surprised to find it was already midday.
He’d missed work.
He also struggled to give a flying shit about it.
Elliot didn’t think twice, he fired off a message to Lily. He didn’t know if he had any answers for if being a ghost was better than spending your days in Valhalla. He didn’t know if he shared Grace’s lifelong secret. All the same, he knew it was his decision to try.
“You’ve got about three seconds.” Lily snapped, making him blink and stare.
She was sitting on the edge of a broomstick, floating in the middle of the room. Her cheeks were slightly red, and she was looking incredibly frustrated.
“Eh… Okay.” Elliot stepped over, “So, um…”
“Grab the fucking broomstick!”
He grabbed the fucking broomstick.
His stomach launched into his mouth as he suddenly found himself standing on a hillside of green, without a feeling of having moved anywhere. His mind twisted and complained, and Lily smiled tightly at him, “Sorry. You… Interrupted. Text me when you’re done… But give me at least twenty minutes. Bye.”
She disappeared, and he was left rubbing his eyes in bewilderment. Standing on some kind of rolling hill, with blue skies and birds in the air. The smell of salt on the wind.
Elliot turned around slowly, and then stared as he saw the building in the middle of the valley. The roof almost looked tiled, round and overlapping tiles, and that’s where he realised his impression of the scale was off.
The thing looked enormous… But the tiny tiles making up the roof, were individual shields. At least half as tall as a person, and looking like regular old tiles because the building was at least as tall as a skyscraper. It was large enough that you could probably stick a football arena inside the walls, and barely even notice.
There was a tree towering over the building, with red and gold leaves. It really did tower, even above the monstrous sized hall. In the sunlight, the tree almost seemed to glow, like it was the spirit of autumn itself.
“Holy… Fuck.”
“It is a sight to behold, the mighty Valhalla. Hall, of those warrior spirits who shall end the Vanargund.” A rumbling voice spoke from beside him.
Elliot stepped backwards in surprise, and saw a beast of a man. He had a warhammer swung over one shoulder, with a comically small handle, and an insane block of iron at the end of it. He had red hair, and red beard, and gave Elliot the impression that he was about to bring the hammer down.
The figure smiled at him broadly, “So, spirit of the living, what brings you to this place? You do not yet belong here. You have not been chosen by my father.”
“My sister’s here… Somewhere.” Elliot swallowed, “I came for her. To bring her… Back.”
The man unslung his hammer, “Helgi left once, for his Sigrun. He returned to us, for that is the path of the pale horse upon the sky. Their tale became a tragic one, friend to the einherjar.”
Elliot heard a crow cry nearby, and did his best not to feel like he was a toddler about to get crushed by a soldier. He had never actually won a fight in the real world. Which felt just as real as this one.
“I’m here for Grace.” He repeated, firmly. Then, thinking, he quickly added, “She’s the girl who kicked you in the… Eh… Nuts.”
The man laughed, and waved a hand to the bottom of the valley, “Then let us drink! A true shieldmaiden, that one’s spirit!”
—
It took until the third round of drinks, and Elliot feeling somewhere between tipsy and about to blackout, before he was able to get any of the warriors around him to stop forcing a drink into his hand and actually answer the question of where his sister was.
He’d figured she wouldn’t be the only Grace, but all of them seemed to immediately know who he was talking about. The drinking hall went quiet, and they all looked pointedly in a certain direction.
Elliot stumbled off towards her, feeling the world was a little bit blurry and uncertain. It was certainly making him dizzy, but he guessed that was how magic places just felt.
In a corner, he spotted a woman. She wasn’t drinking. In fact, now that he thought about it, she was the first woman he’d seen. Weird. She wasn’t alone, though. There was a guy flexing proudly and making very animated gestures.
She idly twirled something in her hands, paying no attention to the warrior at all. The look on her face was one that Elliot hated. It looked like she’d given up, and given in. Just sadly accepting her lot in life.
“You know,” He began, “The last woman I knew, who got unwanted attention from a spirit, she kicked him in the nuts. Might want to be careful there, mate.”
The man turned to face him with a sour grimace.
Elliot blinked and blurted out, “You’re blue!”
“He’s a frost giant. And… You’re drunk.” His sister stated without looking over.
The frost giant reached for his axe, but Elliot shoved by him, “Grace. Earth to Grace. Valhalla to Grace? Gracey, Grace!”
“That’s my name.” She said glumly, “Say it again, and I’ll demonstrate what I did to Thor.”
“Wow. Total funk, huh? So what if I dared you to pull down Thor’s pants?”
She turned her head slowly, breath catching as she did.
Elliot smiled broadly, spreading his arms, “Guess who.”
“You utter asshole!” Grace exploded, “Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean you had to go and join me! Fuuuck! I left, so you could live, El! Bloody hell. What did you do to even get here? Take on a werewolf!?”
“Uh… Lily gave me a ride?”
“The witch… Killed you.” Grace snarled, clenching her fists.
Elliot blinked as he finally recognised what she was holding, “Oh hey. Your rose. It didn’t die?”
“What you’re buried with… Nevermind that! Why the hell did you die, El!?” Grace was on the verge of either punching him or crying. Probably both.
“I… Didn’t? Lily dropped me.” Elliot had to interrupt his explanation to hold a hand in front of his mouth and let rip a giant belch. “These guys are kinda fun. Made me have a couple rounds, before telling me where you were. Sorry.”
She took a deep breath, “So… You’re not dead?”
“Nup.”
Grace nodded, “And… And you came here, for me?”
“Yup. Take you home, ‘n all.” He nodded, before stepping forward and trying to hug her.
Grace pushed him back, and then stared at her hand. A tear ran down one side of her face, and she looked up at him. “I… Don’t belong there, anymore.”
“You… Belong by my side.” Elliot’s drunken brain found the worst way to try and explain what he was feeling.
“Odin and his wife had an argument over me. Whether I was valkyrie or not.” Grace shook her head, “There’s no going back, for me.”
“Thor said it was fine. I think. Sigrun? I think that was the name. People can leave, Grace.” Elliot insisted.
She sighed, took him by the elbow and dragged him over to where the warrior with the hammer was leading a chorus of song, a dozen clay mugs shattered at his feet. Ale was draining down his beard as he cried out in a language that sounded like fighting to Elliot’s ears.
The man stopped as he saw the two of them. He stepped up and clapped Elliot on the back, “You found the shieldmaiden, then! Her spirit does honour to this hall.”
“El seems to think I can walk out because he’s here.” Grace said with irritation.
The warrior nodded, “That is so, but it is not the fullness of it. Were the two of you to depart this place, then a test of courage will be faced. One for each of you. To prove your love may conquer all. But, that is for another day! Come, let us drink to lovers reunited!”
“He’s… My brother…” Grace flushed and looked at the ground.
The man laughed, “Shieldmaiden, your brother faced death to come to this place. He has proved his worth, once already. It is not easy for the living to dare to tread, here. He has come to claim your heart, and none here would have it any other way. You need only choose him, worthy.”
She looked up at Elliot, and made a wry smile, “This’d be easier if you didn’t get him drunk first, he stinks.”
“Sorry.” He belched again.
“Shall we celebrate a wedding, shieldmaiden? Or drown our feelings in mead?”
Grace went bright red, “Wedding!?”
“Of course! Is this not my hall? Do we not celebrate all things here?” He turned to Elliot, “And few living may make the claim that a god blessed their union.”
“We’ve… Barely kissed…” Grace mumbled.
The warrior laughed loudly, “So it should be! What maiden would not find the romance at being plucked upon her wedding day? What man would not desire to make his claim, be her first? Come! Let us find you an outfit, more befitting of a bride!”
Grace looked back at Elliot, wide-eyed, as she was dragged away. For his part, he stared after her, trying to muddle through what the hell had just happened. A nearby warrior stood stiffly, rolling back his sleeves, “Your garb is unfit for a bride, who carries a fist so strong and so swift. Attend! Let us make this one at least appear to be a warrior!”
—
Elliot was feeling a little more sober, and a lot more uncomfortable, by the time the warriors were done with him.
The first thing they had done, was drag him outside to some hill, and tell him that there was a sword buried there. He was expected to dig into the grave, and retrieve it. Which is when Elliot realised that he was in the middle of some kind of viking bucks night.
They had stood around cheering, as he dug down into the dirt. Soaked in grime, knees caked in black dirt, and up to his elbows in the stuff. When he was nearly blind with exhaustion, and beginning to think this was a hazing, he found a wooden box, and struggled not to freak out that he was in a real grave.
Someone tossed a flat blade down to him, and Elliot had felt like he was violating something sacred as he pried it open.
The coffin was empty, apart from an English rapier.
When he picked it up, everyone went silent. He looked around at the stoic warriors, for some hint of what they were expecting. It didn’t feel like he was supposed to thrust it into the air.
“From a boy, to a man.” A deep voice rumbled, and an older figure by the edge of the grave leaned forward on a staff. “This is a gift. From your ancestor, to you. It marks you as a warrior. Worthy to speak. You will give it to your bride, and she, your sons. And they, their sons.”
Elliot winced, feeling his throat closing. “My bride is dead. There will be no sons. Only a brief happiness, between the two of us.”
“And he becomes a boy, again.” The old man snickered, and the other warriors laughed along, loudly. He turned back towards Elliot, one empty eye socket distracting him. “Freya is invited to your wedding, boy. Your union is blessed by the gods. You do not argue with the gods. You accept their gifts, with open heart.”
His eyes went wide, “What? Are you… Resurrecting Grace?”
“I am not.” The man chuckled, “She will return to serve me, when your time is done, and you both will come to this place. Freya, ignorant child, is the goddess of fertility. It will be her gift to give.”
He was confused as to how to feel about that. On the one hand, he was quickly becoming convinced that he really did love Grace. He wasn’t just doing the ceremony as something to get her back. He truly believed that they belonged together, dead or alive.
On the other, he and Grace had barely kissed. They hadn’t exactly had the pregnancy talk. He didn’t know if he wanted kids, and he had no idea if she did. It also seemed a bit much to guarantee that kind of thing, for their first time. Seemed more like a few years on, after they settled in, sort of thing.
“You do not argue with the gods. You accept their gifts.” The old man repeated, before suddenly disappearing in a frantic flapping and whirl of black feathers.
Elliot climbed out of the grave, sword in hand. The warriors were more subdued as they led him to a house nearby the enormous hall. There, the hazing continued.
He was stripped, and hand-bathed. The rest of them did, as well. Using a wooden bucket with tepid water, and rags, to scrub the skin until it was a bright red. Strangely though, the spirits used three different soaps, and all of them seemed to choose based on the smell.
After that, it was straight into the hottest sauna that Elliot had ever been in, in his life.
It was his job to toss more water on the hot stones.
—
Every muscle aching and tired, Elliot finally got a chance to dress for the wedding. Rough homespun pants, shirt and a coat. Apparently the colours were important, because the men helping him pointed out the plants used to make them, but Elliot hadn’t a clue to the significance.
He asked for his phone at one point, and got laughed at. So he settled for asking if one of them could invite Lily to the wedding. The witch might be strange and creepy, but none of this would be possible without her. The laughter had quickly cut off at the mention of her name, replaced with polite respect.
They’d come a long way since he’d sworn at his sister for not telling him she’d been dying.
The rapier was fitted to a custom leather sheathe from somewhere, their last name stitched on one side, and some kind of tree in front of a sail, on the other. He was sure that meant something, too.
The last item of clothing felt more than a bit weird.
It was a silver circlet of some kind, fitted to his head. He hadn’t a clue how they guessed that one without measuring. The circlet had a bunch of two-inch long, curved teeth embedded into it, as the points of the crown. He didn’t need to ask if they were real.
All dressed, he was led back to the doors of the hall, before everyone stood back and waited for him.
Elliot took a deep breath, enjoying the crisp air, hearing the birds in this strange paradise, and then he stepped forward. He planted one hand on each of the enormous doors, and pushed with all his might.
The doors resisted for a minute, threatening to embarrass him, before slowly swinging inwards. He found himself stepping through them, his arms in full flex, and onto a long purple-stained skin of some kind.
At the end of the obvious path, was a small fire, on top of which a goat was slowly roasting. Turning the spit in a deliberate fashion, was a woman in a gorgeous and pale white dress, a sash of pink tied around her waist and trailing down one leg.
Another silver crown sat on her head, but the teeth in hers seemed a lot smaller. In fact, he got the disturbing feeling that whilst his were probably wolf’s, hers seemed to belong to a human.
She turned her head as she heard the doors, looking up at him with the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face. Eyes twinkling, and cheeks shining. In her outfit, she seemed like an otherworldly angel, come to tempt someone off the beaten track.
Elliot walked slowly and deliberately down the path, as the male warriors flooded in behind him. All of them taking up a position on the path, before drawing a weapon and shield, and beginning to clash them together. Hollering excitedly.
As he walked, he noticed the others in the room. Shieldmaidens, if he’d picked up the right term. Those had their arms crossed and looked him up and down scornfully. They were in full battle dress. Most in lightweight leather armour, some with a few pieces of steel. None seemed happy to see him.
He got to the spit roast, and whispered, “What now?”
“No idea.” Grace whispered back, before giggling, “Oh god. It’s happening. Tell me this is really happening. We’re getting married! Fuck. I’m marrying my brother. This can’t be real.”
He put his arms around her shoulders and went to kiss the top of her head. A blade appeared at his throat, making him squeak nervously. The female owner gave a deep chuckle, “Not yet, boy. First…”
The woman walked in front of them, and raised a hand. The hall went silent. “On this day, the day of Freya delighted, on my day, we assemble. Not for battle, but union. To join this family, with bonds unshakeable, chains unbreakable! Friends! Foes! Honoured guests and ignorant exiles! Today we all stand, side by side, for the fierceness and determination of one spell that can never be turned aside. For love, of two hearts.”
The man who owned the warhammer quietly moved to standing beside the two of them, as his sister continued to turn the spit.
Freya smiled warmly at Grace, “Oh, fierce warrior spirit. What you had not in life, may you always find it, onwards. May your blade stay any who seek to part you, and may your fist assist to depart those who may speak ill of you. I bless this union, of man and woman, brother and sister, shield and sword. May your firstborn have the determination of her mother, and the endurance of her father. To her, I give the name Astryd, most beautiful of mortal souls.”
Grace choked and stared, “Uh… What was that?”
“Goddess of fertility.” Elliot mumbled under his breath.
His sister flushed, “We haven’t even…”
“You will. Soon.” The woman smiled at Grace, and then waved at the roast, “Time for the sacrifice. Give a piece to the lord of this hall. To the mighty Thor.”
His sister fumbled with a silver knife, hanging from a leather strap on her wrist, that Elliot had missed. She carved a piece of the goat off, and nervously offered it to the god that she had kicked in the nads, when he first tried to bring her here.
He chuckled, “Usually, I take a leg. But you sought the tenderest part. Kindly, for one who is foreign to our ways. I bless this union! May the storms be called upon your enemies, and may the winds guide you swiftly home, each day. For as long as this family blade is passed from father to firstborn, I swear to protect your bloodline.”
Elliot drew the sword slowly, and Thor nodded. He went down awkwardly on one knee, presenting it to his sister. “From my ancestors, seriously, they made me dig up a grave. From my ancestors, to you, to give to our children.”
“They made me kill and skin the goat.” Grace retorted, before taking it, “Well… This is going on a high shelf where Astryd can’t reach it until she’s old enough.”
There was a sudden flapping of wings, and the old man from the gravesite reappeared in front of them. He peered at Elliot as he shuffled back to his feet, arms resting on Grace’s shoulders, again. “I find you worthy. These two warriors shall join us against the Vanargund! They freely depart this place, but the path will return here, always. No fate or destiny shall keep these spirits apart. Reborn, living, or dead, they will always be reunited! These, I, Woden, declare to be wedded, and honoured friend.”
The shields and swords deafened, before music started to rise above it. Grace jumped to her feet, carefully putting down the sword before snagging his hand. She grinned, “Don’t care how badly you can’t dance, El. Come on!”
—
Sometime later, after food, drinking, and more dancing, he and Grace found themselves outside. Both of them had tried to sneak their first wedded kiss, but every time someone had threatened them and told them off.
Now, they were following a path of fiery torches burning in the crisp night air. A half dozen warriors of either kind accompanying them. Leading them to what Elliot was dead certain was their wedding bed.
Grace kept skipping, and squeezing his hand. Grinning ear to ear, and biting her lip nervously. She was splashing mud from the wet ground as they went, and thunder boomed overhead. Thunder, but no lightning, yet.
She wasn’t the insubstantial ghost she’d been, before. He was the one who didn’t belong. He couldn’t see through her, and he had to confess that he was looking forward to their first kiss, as much as she was. A chance to show her, how much he loved her.
The torches ended at a tiny shack, made of wood, with a thatched wood.
“Friends.” Thor stated, “Here, you confirm your union. Witnessed, your marriage may never be broken. Tomorrow, you will awake, in the world of mortals.”
Grace went bright red, “What exactly do you mean by… Witnessed?”
“He means you’re fucking, and we’re watching.” Lily announced, the witch dangling off the arm of someone that Elliot didn’t remember meeting. “It’s a Norse thing. No arguments about your baby daddy, when everyone has seen you get deflowered.”
Elliot coughed, “Uh… Everyone?”
“Everyone who is here.” Lily shrugged. “Don’t worry, we’ll be quiet.”
Grace looked up at him, “Just so you know, if you can’t get it up, I’m going to throw a huge tantrum. And poison your deserts with… Kale! For the next month.”
“And here I thought I’d be cooking for you, most days.” Elliot squeezed her hand.
His sister shook her head, “Uh… I can’t work, El. I’m dead. No ID. So, if you’re working all day, then I get to play housewife. Not that I mind. And um… Astryd…”
“We’re about to get pregnant.” Elliot smiled at her, “I… Don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“I’m bloody not!” Grace replied, “This is my first time, El! No boyfriends, no nothing. You were… Everything. So I kinda…”
He dragged her to him, and kissed her.
No one interrupted this time as their lips met. Her softness, hesitantly pressing back into him. She put her hands behind his head, and he felt each individual finger as she pulled him in tightly, passionately making out with him.
The little sister he had known, all his life, kissed him deeply. Her tongue reaching out to him, twisting and joining, as their two crowns pressed against each other and into their foreheads. One of her hands moved down his back, tracing down his spine before grabbing the front of his belt firmly.
Grace giggled, walking backwards and dragging him into the hut, as the others followed behind.
She glanced at the audience, blushing, and then knelt down. Grace tossed aside her crown before unknotting his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. She looked up at him, eyes shining, “I love you, El.”
He reached down, grabbing her under the shoulders and lifting her onto the edge of the skin- and fur-covered bed. He kissed her forehead, before kneeling down. “I think I’m going to claim going first.”
“Oh, god.”
“Want your brother to…” He trailed off, hyper aware of all the eyes on them, right now.
“Get on with it.” Lily yawned, “I’m fucking my brother. None of us are going to care about a little dirty talk.”
Grace rolled her eyes, “Not helping, witch! But, El? Yes. Fuck, yes. I want you to eat me out. Please.”
He dug under the dress, which was longer and bigger than he’d thought, making it so he couldn’t just flip it back. He ended up shoulders deep beneath the garment, whilst he pulled her underwear off. Elliot stared as he exposed his sister.
He could see the redness where a razor or something had recently neatened up her bush. It was still there, but there was no hair hiding her little crevasse. It wasn’t a line, right now. His sister was gaping open a little, clear fluid beading at the bottom of her entrance. The red and puffy edges of the walls, just visible, before he dove in.
“El?” Grace asked nervously, before sucking in her breath. The delayed sensation reaching her as he began to run his tongue along the wet tenderness that was his sister. Her legs trembled, as his tongue patiently ran back and forth. Tracing the length to help him guess her sensitive places.
“Finger or clit?” Elliot asked between swipes, tossing aside his own crown.
“Hmm? Uh… Uh… Finger.” It took Grace a moment to focus on the question.
His middle finger delicately entered her, as he continued to lick. Grace gave a grunt, followed by a satisfied coo. “Ooh. God. Oh my god. My brother is really fucking me. Holy shit.”
“Not yet.” Elliot gave a small laugh.
“Well, it ain’t masturbation!” She announced, “God above. How can it be so much better when you do it, than me? That’s… Mmm… Not fair! It’s… It’s… Ugh… My body!”
She tightened around his finger, caressing it, every time he pushed it into her. He curled his finger, running the tip along her textured walls, coaxing his sister towards her climax.
However, he also couldn’t resist teasing, “What are the rules in an afterlife? Do you technically even still have a body?”
“Oh… Shut up and make me cum!” Grace yelled.
“Yes, wife.” He grinned and resumed his tongue-work.
Grace moaned weakly, “Oh fuck. Oh, I am your wife. Oh god…”
Only a few moments later, her thighs snapped up and grabbed his head in a vice. Her legs trembled, from hip to toe, as they were locked around him. The hood in front of his face engorged and lifted, flexing upwards.
She didn’t make a sound through it all. Not a single peep. He couldn’t hear her breathing, let alone moaning, as the orgasm pulsed through his sister as she lay on their wedding bed.
“The time has come. Enter her.” He heard Freya instruct.
“Indeed, you must prove your worth to your bride.” Thor joined in.
“Just fuck her.” Lily said with a pout, “So I can go home and screw Ryker’s brains out.”
Grace sat up, legs still spasming a little on Elliot’s shoulders, “Would you all just shut the fuck up!? Hard enough losing my virginity in front of people, as is. Don’t need a fucking commentary!”
“How do you feel about a kiss?” Elliot stood up, offering.
Grace eyed him suspiciously, “Well, you’re not exactly dripping… Fine. We can try and make out.”
The both of them climbed up the bed so that they could lie down next to each other. Elliot leaning in from slightly above as they shared their second passionate kiss. He needed to stop counting those. He had a lifetime, or longer, to look forward to, of them.
One of his hands was against her back, pressing through the dress, as he held his sister against him. Toying with the tongue that scampered in and out of his mouth, teasing at his teeth. Carefully breathing through his nose and pushing his chest down against hers.
Grace’s hands roamed a little more freely. Starting by holding onto the back of his head, before first exploring his shoulders, and then slowly trailing down his back. Fingers pausing at every minor imperfection, memorising him.
When she reached her lower back, he felt her grin briefly, and then she spanked one cheek of his bare ass. Giggling as she kissed him.
Elliot rolled his eyes, murmuring, “That… Does… Nothing…”
“Nope.” She laughed some more, and then pushed back on his chest, “But… It’s mine. You’re all mine, and I never have to share you, again.”
“Apart from the audience.”
Grace rolled her eyes, “Apart from the audience. So… Because I kinda want to forget them… Umm…”
He kissed her briefly, and then sat her up and tugged at her dress. Grace grinned excitedly and thrust her arms upwards. Leaving Elliot to figure out how the hell to get it off. There were a couple wooden toggles on the back, which took his clumsy hands more than a few tries each, before he was finally able to slide the white dress over her head.
He tossed it to the floor, and then kissing her, laid her back down on the bed. Grace spoke hoarsely, “Leave the shirt on. Vest, no.”
The vest hit the pile of their clothes, and Elliot unbuttoned the shirt, smiling down at his bride. Her hands instantly ran across his rather unmuscled chest, looking up at him in a combination of fear and excitement.
He leaned forward, bracing one hand by her head, and used the other to guide himself towards her opening. He ran his cock back and forth, up and down the entrance. Slickening himself, before he gave him into temptation and began to push down.
Grace tensed up, biting her lip. There was some resistance as he moved in. Not from a hymen, but unable to find the perfect angle, before suddenly he found himself engulfed in her warmth. Elliot groaned loudly as the second half slipped in slowly until he was buried up to the hilt in her.
She let out a tiny gasp, “Oh. Oh fuck.”
“Good, oh fuck?” He queried, himself in paradise.
She nodded quickly, “Aha. Just… Oh fuck. Did you know that… You feel big?”
“I’m really not.”
She shook her head, “Uh uh. You feel big. Not too big. But… I’m filled. I’m filled with my brother’s cock. And nobody… Will ever… Feel me like this, again. And nobody else… Will ever… Get me, at all.”
He leaned down and kissed her nose, “I love you, too, Grace.”
“Aha.” She said, looking like she was having a tough time focusing. “I… I think… I’m ready. Gentle. And I don’t mean an El’s gentle. I mean a real one.”
Lily tsk’d loudly, “Didn’t want to say anything. But I kinda just spotted a vampire about to rip a werewolf’s head off. But I can’t leave until you’re done. So can you two… Hurry up?”
“Ignore. Her.” Grace said through gritted teeth, touching his cheek. “Just you and me.”
Elliot kissed her nose, “Was planning on it. There’s no way I’m not taking my time. I want this, us, to last forever. Guess what? We’re married.”
“Fuck.” He felt her clench as she said the words, “We’re… Married!”
Pulling back from her, sliding out of her sheathe, was an existential pain to Elliot. Driving back in, as slowly as the first stroke, was rapture. He’d lost her. He’d come to know just how he loved her. He’d married her.
He might not have physically popped her cherry, but he was hyper aware that this was her first time. She’d saved herself for him, in a way. Saved herself because she couldn’t have the person that she wanted.
“No more… Unfinished… Business.” He groaned, leaning one hand by her head to kiss her.
Grace gave a roll of her eyes, and a lopsided small. Lifting her hips towards him, as she ignored the corniness of his line. His sister was tight and warm, wrapped around him in a way that he’d never felt.
Her hands pulled at his back, and Elliot found himself leaning into her, planting a kiss as he slowly drew himself backwards. He felt Grace break into a grin, right before he slid back into her. She tightened around him, and sucked in her breath.
His sister clutched at him with each movement, both with her nethers and hands. Holding onto him as he pressed down on her, hearing her forgetting how to breathe with stroke. The whole world disappearing from his attention as he joined with the woman who loved him.
Girl who’d fought to be by his side, for a year.
She pulled herself against him, crushing her chest into hers, as the back of her ankles pressed against his. Trying to take him deeper inside her, locking her hands together, behind his back. Tiny and shallow breaths taken from beside his neck. Elliot groaned into her, kissing at whatever part of her that he could.
The girl who couldn’t help but draw a loveheart on his shower, when she first let him know that she was there. The woman who had kicked a god in the balls, and ran from a witch, on the off-chance that he might return her affection. The one who had bought him a box of chocolates to say that she’d come back.
All of that. Grace had done the impossible, fighting every inch of the way, just to be by his side. To let him know that she loved him, adored him.
Elliot kissed her ear, “I… Love you.”
“More.” She rasped back to him, hips moving quickly. Her insides wrapped up tightly around him, even as they moved in little pulsing waves. She wasn’t quite in step with him, showing her lack of skill, even as she expressed the depth of her own heart.
She was soft against him, all of her. His sister wasn’t unfit, but there was give to the entirety of her body. Some of her skin felt silky, especially her stomach. Some of it was a little rougher, her arms featuring some roughness of sun damage. All of her still moulded itself up against him.
Elliot grunted a warning, “Can’t.”
Her eyes lit up, and she bit her lip, nodding frantically.
He was momentarily distracted as he heard the crowd around the bed holding their breath, having to refocus on the gorgeous woman in front of him. Her wide eyes and desperate excitement, pushing him back to that edge, until he gave one final groan and stepped over it.
He felt the flex and swell, before the relief and light-headedness hit at once. Jerking within her depths, as he painted the insides of his sister. It took her a couple seconds to notice, and then she gave a nervous laugh and grinned, “Oh. O-kay.”
Elliot winced, “Oh crap. You didn’t want that.”
“No, I reeeaaally did.” Grace laughed, and then shrugged sheepishly, “Hot as hell… Can I go pee, now? Like… Right now?”
He moved aside and his sister sprinted out the front door. Leaving him to awkwardly sit on the bed, surrounded by a bunch of strangers, with a semi and wet cock.
Lily checked her wrist, “Can I go, yet? Pretty sure that -”
“Leave, witch.” Freya said in annoyance, “Mortals. They never comprehend what is truly important.”
“She is seeking battle, and triumph.” Thor stated, “Yet, that is not for this moment. We have seen the truth, and thus, our time is done. We have born witness to this union. May you fight strong, for each other.”
Elliot honestly felt even more awkward as the gods and heroes left the room, and left him on his own. Clothing from he and his sister scattered around the room as he tried to come to terms with… The promise that he was now going to be a father.
“El…” Grace stated, as she returned, moving quietly as she shut the door gently.
He winced, “Something wrong?”
“Yes? No? I don’t know.” Grace shook her head, and sat down beside him. Naked thighs touching as she leaned onto his shoulder. “I was more… Why do I need to pee? I’m dead. I could get plastered in the hall, and I didn’t need to.”
“I guess… Because I’m not? Maybe the ale is magic or something.” He shrugged, “Whereas stuff from me…”
“Huh. Maybe.” She snuggled in tighter, “Can we… Um…”
“I am tired as crap. Wanna snuggle?”
“God, yes. So tired.” Grace dropped backwards onto the bed and lifted her arms, “Tuck me in, husband?”
Elliot rolled his eyes, but went to do it anyways. As he did, Grace let rip a giant fart, laughed, and dove up the bed and beneath the furs.
—
Elliot came awake, spluttering. Staring up at an empty glass of water, and through the girl holding it with a grin.
“Grace!”
The glass fell onto the bed, and she burst out laughing, “Morning!”
“I’m going to kill you!” He grabbed for her, arms wrapping around her and dragging her into his lap. He grinned and kissed her nose. “Morning. Torturer.”
“Morning. Slowpoke.” Grace shot back, and he became aware that she was fully dressed. She tapped her wrist, “You’ve got ten minutes to get ready for work. I let you sleep in and everything, so no complaints. So… What do you want for dinner?”
“Mmm… You?”
“Sure, cunnilingus.” Grace nodded with a straight face, “Maybe with a side of pizza? And, something for desert.”
“If there’s anything gross in the desert, I will haunt you.” Elliot teased.
She laughed and stood up, before suddenly sprinting out of the room, “You’d have to catch me, first!”