When Mabel woke up, things weren't how she expected them to be. For one, she felt fine. A little sleepy, perhaps, but there was no sign of the injuries that had led to her demise, and she had the brief thought that death really was kind of great if it took away all your wounds.
"Hello, Mabel." Mabel spun around, body relaxing when she absorbed Leora.
"Hi," she returned, fingers fisting against the soft, green grass below her. "Is this Heaven?" her eyes drifted over the lush forest and the unique flowers, ears absorbing the sounds of happy laughter and squeals of children.
Leora nodded, a bright smile on her face as she raised her hands, as if to say ta-da! "It is. What do you think?"
"Well," Mabel stood, "it's pretty dang gorgeous. Much better than Earth."
Leora shook her head with amusement, snatching up Mabel's hand and pulling her along. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that."
"What?" Mabel tore her gaze from the sparkling creek that ran parallel to the field, returning it to the back of Leora's head with no small amount of confusion. "What do you mean?"
Coming to a sudden halt, Leora twisted around and regarded Mabel seriously. "You were not meant to die, Mabel. Quite a few humans were not meant to die. But you," the woman sighed, turning her face to the forest, where the trees stood tall and proud. "You should not have died, because you were never corrupted. You would have been fine, had you not insisted on finding the Door and closing it."
Mabel still didn't understand. "Okay," she said slowly. "But I did, and now I'm dead, so why can't I go touch a flower?"
Leora snorted, "Come with me, Mabel."
***
Mabel had never considered it before, but she was surprised at just how much Heavenly beings argued.
"We cannot just raise a person from the dead! That is not our domain, and to do so could bring Hell upon us! Death does not appreciate being crossed, Leora, and you would be wise to remember this."
Leora shared a private glance with Mabel. "I do not believe Death would mind if we were to bring Mabel back. In fact, I think he would greatly appreciate it."
The man standing in the center of the circular room threw his hands up in exasperation. "Leora! You cannot waste your ability solely because you believe this human girl was wrongly killed."
"I think that is enough." The entire room, filled with a number of angels (they had wings and everything) and other Heavenly beings, turned to face the new voice.
In the doorway, a young man with mussed, dark hair and kind brown eyes stood, dressed similarly to the others, in long, white and gold robes. "Why do you fight?" He directed his question to the agitated man, and something in the newcomer's gaze struck a chord with Mabel.
He seemed almost . . . familiar.
It was only when Leora elbowed her that Mabel realized everyone in the room was bowing. Copying Leora, Mabel watched through her lashes as the angry man melted in with the others, leaving the stranger to take his place.
"No need for that," he chided gently, and everyone straightened.
Leora was the first to speak. "It is an honor to have you present."
The man held up a hand, a generous smile on his lips. "Please, Leora, it is not necessary. I sensed distress and wished to see what was the matter. Why do you fight? Surely our words are better used in kindness?"
"You are right, of course," Leora amended, but the man just shook his head.
"It is of no issue, Leora. I do wish to know, however, what displeases you so."
Clearing her throat and setting her shoulders back, Leora stood tall and proud as she spoke, laying out exactly what she hoped would happen. Mabel watched with awe, impressed at the other woman's ability to deliver a compelling argument, while still remaining gentle and compassionate.
When Leora had finished, the man shifted his gaze to Mabel. "And is this what you want?" It was the slight furrowing of his brows and the tick of concern on his lips that finally made the pieces click together.
"Oh!" she exclaimed loudly, slapping her hand against her thigh, "You're related to Aleron!"
Leora groaned from beside her, face falling into her palms, but Mabel ignored her. The man laughed heartily in response, his eyes (a touch of gold in his brown irises, unlike Aleron's red) twinkling. "Yes, Mabel, Aleron and I are distantly related. Instead of Death, however, you can call me Life."
Mabel quirked a grin. "I like that—it's less foreboding."
Life shot her a wink. "Yes, Aleron always has had a flair for the dramatics." He sobered, "But tell me, Mabel, is this what you want?"
Mabel considered it for several moments, weighing the pros and cons in her mind.
Was this what she wanted? Could she really be happy with this decision?
Yes, she decided finally, I can.
Chin jutting out with resolve, she nodded. "Yes. This is what I want."
He smiled, though it seemed like he wasn't surprised; he probably already knew what choice she would make.
"Very well."
***
Mabel's eyes snapped open with a gasp, chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. It was a strange sensation, being placed back in your body, but she was grateful nonetheless. Absorbing her surroundings, she was relieved when there was light above her, meaning they hadn't buried her yet.
Sitting up, she realized they had been close to doing exactly that.
She was in one of her nicer dresses, the pearls she'd gotten from her late mother strung around her neck. Her body was still marred with semi-healed wounds, and her fingers closed around the crushed satin interior of the coffin as she pushed herself into a sitting position.
The room around the coffin (she refused to call it hers) was empty, save for the many bouquets and pictures of her. She couldn't be sure whether the visitation had happened yet, but she couldn't dwell on it. After being killed and then brought back, all she really wanted was a hug from her favorite demon. With a grunt, she clasped her fingers around the rim of the coffin, pulling herself up, over, and . . . straight onto the floor with a distinct thud.
"Ow," Mabel muttered flatly, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. Leora had said that, depending on how long it had been since Mabel's 'death,' she could have been buried, or—worse—cremated. Thankfully, neither had happened, and she wouldn't have to rise from the grave like some sort of creepy vampire. Instead, she would only be mildly creepy.
Sucking in a slow breath, Mabel heaved herself off the floor, teetering on the high heels that adorned her feet. No doubt Kellan had felt the need to make sure that even Mabel's feet looked perfect.
But high heels? Mabel thought with a frustrated breath as she kicked the shoes off her feet, uncaring of where they landed. Really? Since when have I ever worn high heels?
Continuing on her way, she poked her head around the door, looking up and down the hall to make sure it was empty. Once confirmed, she darted across the hall and out the doors to the building. It was a church, she realized upon turning around, a small, quaint church that made her smile.
Besides the heels, her friends knew her well.
Thoughts back on track, Mabel hurried down the sidewalk, wincing when her feet landed on a jagged piece of concrete. She wasn't sure how long it had been since everything had gone to Hell (literally), but the city itself looked fine, save for a few minor cosmetic issues (such as loose pavement that had probably been torn up by angry demons).
There was, however, a distinct lack of noise. In the city that was normally always bustling on such a sunny day, Mabel only saw a few other people, and even they looked downcast.
"It's just terrible," a woman on the phone murmured as she walked by, "No explanation, just . . . gone."
Mabel swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat. Perhaps the city wasn't fine.
Clearing her head of the many depressing thoughts that had jumped forward, Mabel squared her shoulders and kept walking, a relieved smile lifting her lips when she saw Herman's Herbs and Spices standing unscathed.
As she got closer, however, her brows furrowed. The sign in the window read Closed Indefinitely, all the lights were off, and the door was padlocked.
Well, there goes that plan. Head swiveling as she tried to determine her next move, Mabel almost slammed her forehead into the wall when the obvious answer finally hit her.
After all, what was the point of having a demonic guardian at her beck and call if she didn't even summon him every now and then?
Hoping it would work, Mabel breathed in slowly, trying to calm the sudden bout of nerves in her stomach. What would Aleron do if he saw her? How would he react?
"Aleron," she said finally, the single word loud and clear. "Aleron!" ignoring the odd looks she received by the few passersby, Mabel held her breath.
Nothing.
"Crap."
***
When Mabel finally managed to calm down her landlord and explain, No, I'm not dead, but everyone thought I was, and now I don't have a key, so would you please let me in? she regarded her apartment with warmth in her gaze.
How nice it was, to return to something she had thought lost forever.
A content hum trilling from her lips when she collapsed on the couch, Mabel pulled her computer from the coffee table, setting it in her lap.
The date told her it had been about a week since she'd "died," and—as far as lost time went—it wasn't too bad.
What did make her stop, however, was the headline on the local news page.
City Hit by Poisonous Drug that Kills Hundreds: Memorials to be Held on Wednesday.
So, they'd blamed it on the drug. In some way, Mabel supposed that was true. Rifling through the many other articles, she finally found one containing information about the deceased. She scrolled down until she saw her name, reading through the info before sighing.
Turns out she'd left her visitation about two hours before it was supposed to happen. Eyes flicking to the time, she slammed the computer shut and jumped from the couch, the door to her apartment slamming behind her as she sprinted down the stairs.
Ignoring the sting of her still bare feet, Mabel was panting by the time she returned to the church, flinging the doors open without a second thought.
The hall was still vacant, but there were voices resonating from the room in which her coffin was located.
"What on Earth?" that was Kellan, and Mabel smiled at the familiar sound. "You mean to tell me that you showed up, and somehow her body was just gone? Do you expect me to believe that?"
"It's the truth, Ma'am," came the timid voice of what sounded like a teenage boy.
"Ease up, Kell," that was Jake's soft voice, Mabel knew, nearing the door. "He's just a kid."
Fingers twisted in the skirt of her dress, Mabel peeked inside.
Jake, Kellan, and a lanky teenager stood facing the coffin, absorbed in their discussion and oblivious to Mabel's presence. Letting her gaze drift, Mabel had to stop a squeak of shock when she saw Lucy sitting by the wall, devoid of a prison jumpsuit, a familiar pair of high heels clutched in her hands.
"Kell," Lucy's voice was hoarse. "Let it go, please. I can't handle anything else today. Just . . . just take a moment, okay? You know M-Mabs wouldn't want us to fight."
Kellan's shoulders slumped with defeat. "You're right." She swiped a few tears from her cheeks. "It just really hurts, you know? First, she dies, and now we lose our last chance to say goodbye? It's not fair!" she broke down into sobs, and Jake quickly embraced her, murmuring comforting words into her ear.
Lucy sniffled, eyeing the heels as though they were responsible for Mabel's disappearance. "She probably got up and left, just 'cause she hated these shoes. You know she hates heels, Kellan." And then Lucy broke down too, and Mabel couldn't take anymore.
She stepped inside fully, desperate to stop the tears.
"You're not wrong," her voice was raspy with the cries clogged in her throat, and she released a wet laugh when the occupants spun around to eye her with shock. "I really hate heels, Kell."
First screams of shock, then tears of joy, followed by happy laughter and layers of (admittedly vague, on her part) explanations.
***
A/N: Don't worry, I'm not that mean.