Undeath by Chocolate

The Conclusion

The authors stood on the balcony, watching the ghostly light of the moon play upon the waters. A long silence passed.

"I have considered the message of hope in your story, my Lady Amber," Scheherazade said.

Amber nodded and stepped closer.

"I will offer you a bargain. One I have offered to others before you. I will let one of you leave and find other authors for me. For each one you find, I will release one of your friends."

The authors glanced at each other uncertainly. One after the other, they said, "No," until only Chay had failed to answer.

"It's my test all over again," Chay said. "Am I willing to make a sacrifice of the lives of others?"

"Well," Nancy said. "You did that on a similar test once before, didn't you? Like the one in your story?"

Chay sighed. "To my shame, I wasn't able to do it. When I had the victim before me I--" he shuddered. "I didn't have it in me. I still don't."

"So you will not do what I ask either?"

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he answered.

"We don't have to bring people here against their will, do we?" Jinn asked. "I mean, other authors might be willing to come here voluntarily if they knew what was needed."

"Who would willingly come to the underworld if they had a choice?" Scheherazade asked.

"It's an island beach house," Holly pointed out. "Lots of people like those. Myself included. You could probably charge people to come here."

"And that kitchen is great," K.J. added.

"You might want to not leave corpses and things lying about, however," Jesse suggested.

"I don't know," Chay said. "Those are kind of cool."

"I ask myself how I can trust what you say," Sheherazade said. She wrung her hands. "If you deceive me, I not only lose some of the precious chocolate which enables me to walk between realms, but I must return to having my head chopped off every time my Lord awakes."

"Chocolate can do that?" David asked.

"With proper spells cast upon it, yes."

The authors spent a moment exchanging looks, then proceeded to rummage through backpacks and purses. In a short time they'd collected a handful of chocolate candies. They pooled what they had in a pile upon the sand. There was very little.

"It's not enough, is it?" Kristin asked Sheherazade.

Grim faced, Sheherazade shook her head.

Dave stepped up, turned over his backpack and dumped it out. It was filled with chocolate bars. They tumbled over each other in a gigantic heap.

"We can trade all this for properly magicked chocolate," Dave offered with a smile.

Sheherazade regarded the treasure with round eyes. She then met each author's gaze in turn.

"You have passed the test of generosity, both with your stories and with your chocolates. You have proven unselfish enough not to take my first offer. So now I must trust you."

With slow fingers, she removed her headdress. Then she opened her mouth and showed fangs. Everyone backed away.

"See me as I am," she said.

No one spoke.

"Understand that if you do not return next year," she continued, "I will use this chocolate to find others like yourselves. Unless you give me what I need, they will die and their deaths will be upon your souls."

She fixed Chay with a stare. "I passed my test."

"Don't worry," Steve said. "We won't forget you."

"And we'll bring more chocolate, too," Amber promised.

With that, Sheherazade reached into the folds of her garments and presented each author with a pair of small chocolate coins. One to pay the way out, one to pay the way back.

"I don't get it," Jesse said. "You can leave here?"

"I can, yes."

"Then why do you stay in this abusive relationship?"

"Hey," Chay said. "Stop being so judgy. I've had a number of great abusive relationships."

Jesse cast him a withering look.

"Escape would be even more simple than that," the consort replied. "At each full moon, I must kiss his corpse and return it to life, much like the woman in your story, otherwise he remains little more than a pile of bones."

"But you love him," Jesse said. "So you put up with having your head cut off?"

Scheherazade shrugged and smiled sadly. "It's okay. I'm already immortal."

"I guess that makes a certain kind of sense," Jesse said.

"Goodbye, my friends," Scheherazade said.

The writers turned and walked away. Following the instructions they'd been given, they walked back along the road leading into the sea.

A lobster crawled from the ocean as they approached, collected the coins and vanished beneath the waters. Once it was gone, the sea parted. The authors began their long trek back. Wolves howled behind them.

#

The authors awoke in shallow water, startled to find themselves alive in the partially submerged bus. With the help of the Coast Guard, they got out, except for the driver who was never recovered. When the authors made it back to the Con, they were received by the Con chair, Sherry Book. She threw her arms around each of them in turn and sobbed relief that they were all alive and in good health. The authors were touched by her concern.

But that was nothing compared to the joy they experienced when they were reunited with their fans at the conclusion of ComicCon 2040. For many of the writers, however, their most important reader was a spirit living on an island somewhere between life and death--a woman who watched for them every night as she carried their stories to her Lord.

#

Sheherazade looked on the proceedings from her mystical isle, hoping the authors did well and kept their word. A small blue butterfly flapped toward her. She smiled with the pristine bliss of a soul given a second chance and raised her hand, letting the small creature alight on her index finger. The future looked bright indeed.