Velvet Redemption

“Drake! Did you fall asleep again?”

I was up in an instant at the sound of that voice. Melissa was not happy when that voice was used, and I knew that it meant trouble for me.

A usual banjo theme song was playing on the television, and an angry blonde was glaring at me. I’d fallen asleep during her favorite show. . . again.

Melissa loved watching a comedy about a group of doctor friends, but I didn’t see the humor in it. It just wasn’t funny to me. I didn’t like the main character. He just seemed like too much of a wimp, and I didn’t find people like that funny.

“I’m sorry, dear. I just had a long day at the studio, and I guess it caught up with me,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

“I’ll never understand how drawing cartoons can be so exhausting. You’re always tired after

work,” Melissa said.

“I can stay awake through another episode if you want,” I said, yawning.

“Forget it. I’m not in the mood to watch anymore,” Melissa said, getting up and stretching.

I sighed in relief. I was ready for bed. This day had been longer than I intended, and tomorrow I

had to be up in order to do it all over again. I didn’t really like my job as an animator. It was always more of my friend Travis’ dream, and I just sort of tagged along because we were such close friends.

Oddly enough, I sort of felt like I should be doing something else. . . I just didn’t know what.

As I brushed my teeth, Melissa got ready for bed next to me. She took off her makeup and put her hair into a ponytail to sleep in. Then, she got into her favorite white silk nightie and climbed under the covers.

I stared into the mirror. A 37-year-old man with a blond beard and strawberry-blond hair looked back at me. I was starting to feel stressed as of late. . . maybe I was hitting my midlife crisis. I didn’t want to tell Melissa because I knew she’d try to diagnose me right away. She was actually a pretty good psychiatrist.

Still, if there is one person a guy does not want to be his shrink, it’s his wife. I had too many secrets, thoughts, and emotions that would instantly wreck an otherwise good marriage.

I took off my gold wedding ring and set it next to the sink like I did before bed every night. Melissa never took her ring off, but I couldn’t stand to wear mine for longer than a few hours at the time.

I knew I loved Melissa, and I was happy we were married, but somehow. . . it just felt off. I couldn’t explain why.

I climbed into bed and Melissa pulled me closer as we often slept. We’d be on opposite sides of the bed by morning, but that wasn’t how we started out at night.

“I love you,” she muttered, dozing off.

“I love you too,” I said, drifting off to sleep myself.

In my sleep I was haunted by horrible dreams. . . howling wolves, dead friends, and plenty of violent images.

I snapped awake as my alarm went off at 5:30 a.m.

I stumbled into the bathroom, tripping over the pair of brown fluffy slippers Melissa had bought me for Christmas that I never wore.

Splashing cold water on my face, I knew this day would be twice as long as yesterday. This potential mid-life crisis was killing me one day at a time.

I showered and threw on a t-shirt and jeans, heading downstairs.

Melissa had today off, so, she was still asleep in bed.

I was as quiet as possible making toast and coffee. A worn silver toaster shot my bread into the air, and I caught it, put peanut butter on it, and wrapped it in a paper towel before running out the door.

Our home wasn’t far from downtown Atlanta. I looked back at our two-story brick home. It was old and a fixer-upper, but I felt like we had done well with it. I felt something rub up against my leg as I took a bite of my sandwich.

I looked down to see our cat Felix, or as I called him, Melissa’s cat. I never liked cats. I always felt like we should have a dog. . . maybe even a husky. Melissa always said it was too hot in Atlanta for a husky, and it’d be cruel to have one.

I left Felix behind and ran onward to the train station a few blocks down from my home. Making it just in time, I ran into the sliding glass doors and took a seat. I had just finished my toast and was now working on my coffee. I set my green thermos on the floor for a moment while I got situated in my seat.

Tossing my toast remnants into a nearby trashcan, I took a drink of hazelnut coffee and ran through the events that would inevitably happen today.

As I finished running through my list of things to do, I arrived at my stop, which was another two blocks from Studio Howling.

We were busy working on season three of our superhero cartoon The Offbeats, a story about a team of misfit superheroes working to save the world and earn their own spot in fame. It was cool in its own way. Samuel L. Jackson was the voice of the lead hero, Dr. Wizard, an older man who is Father Time reincarnated. He can freeze time and do all sorts of things.

Walking up the stairs to floor number three, I made my way to our back office I shared

with Travis. He was already at work in all his oddball chirpy morning personality.

“Hey Drake!”

The goofball always had some weird hairstyle. At the time, he had a buzzed haircut except for the top of his head, which was long, dyed blond, and swished over to one side.

He was wearing a light green sweater and some orange pants, no doubt courtesy of his long-time girlfriend Krickett. She worked for a different studio on the north part of Atlanta, and she was always up on the latest fashion trends. I never understood her, but she was always pleasant to be around. Krickett and Travis were perfect for each other. . . couple of odd ducks.

“Hey Trav,” I said, yawning.

“Did you finish those storyboards last night?”

“Yeah, I stayed late, and Melissa about killed me when I got home. . . then again when I

fell asleep during her favorite television show,” I muttered, rubbing my face with my hands.

“Well dude, you can probably take off early tonight, then. I finished my stuff early this

morning. Once we pitch our storyboards to the boss man, we’ll do a few more and call it a day,” Travis said.

“I’m not going to argue with you there,” I said, stretching and then sitting down to work.

Work went by slow, as predicted. I was trying to draw a girl who can render herself invisible, but I always had trouble with female figures. There was just something about the female body. . . I sucked at drawing it.

As the day went on, I grew more and more bitter. Today was just a bad day for some reason. I realized more than ever that I hated my job. I felt like I was wasting my life. The only things I didn’t hate in my life were my friends and Melissa. Still, I couldn’t shake this feeling that something had happened to them. I kept hallucinating that I’d lost my best friend and the love of my life. And yet, that simply wasn’t the case. Travis was right behind me all day, and I’d been texting Melissa off and on for the past few hours.

Why did I keep feeling like I’d lost them?

The clock finally hit 4:30 p.m., and I’d had all I could stomach for the day.

“Trav, I’m not feeling good. I’m going home early like you said,” I muttered.

“You okay? Want me to drive you to a hospit-”

I stopped him as he started to get up.

“No! Just. . . I mean. . .no. It’s not that serious. I just haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m going to go home and take a nap. I just need more sleep,” I said, running out of the office.

I was out of breath at the bottom of the stairs. That’s not right. Was I always this out of shape? That fact felt wrong.

Skipping the train, I decided to walk home. I had plenty of time, and if I needed to, I could hop on a bus or something. Right now, I just needed air. Everything was crashing down around me. I was anxious and angry at the same time, but I didn’t know why.

Am I having some kind of panic attack? I’m in good health though, I thought.

I had a great life, a woman loved me, and my best friends spent nearly every evening with me doing fun activities. Why did it all feel so foreign to me?

Without any ideas, I stumbled into a gas station and went back to get some juice of some kind. I needed a cold drink to clear my head.

I walked up to the cashier, a heavy-set balding man, and handed him my drink to scan.

I just barely saw the door open out of the corner of my eye before I heard the gunshot. The cashier fell over grunting and clutching his chest. I looked over and saw a guy with a ski mask covering his face. He was holding a small black handgun, and I saw it discharge.

The man hopped behind the counter and emptied the register as my legs began to shake. I fell to my knees for some reason. When I looked down, I realized I’d been shot in the chest.

The robber, a rather scrawny looking teen, left the the station, and I fell backwards in a puddle of blood. My body shook as my brain struggled to process what had happened.

Was I dying?

All of a sudden, I was looking down at my body covered in blood, and my pain was gone.

I thought, What the Hell?

Then, a voice behind me spoke up, “Oh my God.”

I turned and saw a woman I’d never seen before. She had pale skin, long black hair, and she was wearing some kind of robe or kimono.

She had tears in her eyes, and she ran over and gave threw her arms around me.

She cried on my shoulder for a few moments before I asked, “Do I know you?”

The woman pulled her head up and put both of her arms on my shoulders.

“You’ve no memory of me? Do you even know who you are?”

“Of course. I’m Drake Griswald, a cartoonist in Atlanta. Who do you think I am?”

“Oh Justin. . . Michael really did a number on your head,” the woman said.

“Justin?”

The woman slid her arms up to my face. Her skin was cool to the touch, and I saw up close that she had extremely light blue eyes.

“Come back to me, like you promised,” she said.

Her lips met mine, and my mind began to crack. Memories that I did not recognize entered my subconscious. Benjamin? Joshua? They were his friends. . . and only one was alive. Lisa. . . her death. Velvet. . . and then Lilandra. Justin had lost so much. Justin had lost so much? No, I had lost much. That was me. This immense sadness from a life that could only be described as a calamity, this deep love for the woman kissing me, they were both mine.

When her lips finally left my own, I returned the kiss immediately.

Afterwards, she looked me deep in the eyes and asked, “What is your name?”

“My name is Justin Pierce, and I’ve returned to you just like I promised, Death,” I said.

She cried and threw her arms around me.

“I thought I’d never find you,” she said, sobbing.

“I’m sorry that I left. How long have I been gone?”

“It’s been three years since you killed Lucifer and Michael put you in that body,” Death said.

I looked at the blond man on the ground in front of me. The memories of his life were slowly fading from my head like a dream when one wakes up in the morning.

“Drake. . . his wife is going to be devastated to learn of his death,” I muttered.

Death looked at me and said, “It can’t be helped. Who knows what Michael did with the original soul in that body before shoving your spirit inside of it.”

I shrugged and asked, “So what happens now?”

“We need to get your soul stabilized into a spirit body again so you don’t fade into the afterlife,” Death said.

“And to do that we’d need. . .,” I trailed off, my mind thinking.

“I’m sure Kareen knows a spell or two that can help,” Death said.

“A spell. . . or a powerful magic item,” I said.

“What are you thinking?”

I looked at Death and asked, “What happened to Michael? Has he kept his promise not to wage war against the humans?”

Death shook her head and said, “Sort of. He hasn’t launched a war, but he has been hunting down demons on the planet one by one. The angels that fight them usually drag innocent bystanders into the conflict too. All in all, due to angels and demons fighting, about 500 people have died in the three years.”

“I should have known he’d have to be stopped eventually. I thought Lucifer was the final piece of the puzzle, but it seems I have one more target on my list,” I said.

“You can’t be seriously be thinking about fighting Michael. You don’t have any powers, a sword, or even a body to do battle with,” Death said.

“Death. I need a favor. Please take me to Hell. Can you get me back in Lucifer’s castle?”

“Well yeah, I can go anywhere in Hell since Lucifer’s death, but Justin, you saw it with your own eyes. Velvet is gone. The only one who could reforge the blade is Micah, and he’s been missing since the fight with Lucifer,” Death said.

“He has?”

“Yes. Daniel has been looking for him night and day since you vanished, and he’s had no luck. Michael doesn’t have him either. He’s vanished from Lucifer’s dungeon,” Death said.

“I see. Well, no matter. That’s not what I had in mind,” I said.

“What are you thinking?”

“You’ll see. Please just get me back to Lucifer’s castle,” I said.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around me as we faded from the convenience store.

We reappeared back in the courtyard where I’d fought Lucifer. It was practically empty, but a few demons were wandering about. There was a small silver shrine to Lucifer in the center, and a few yards from it, I found the object I sought.

I heard hissing as I walked over to my target sticking out of the ground.

“You’ve some serious balls coming back here,” a demon yelled.

Another yelled, “Did you return to desecrate our king’s grave?”

I ignored them, and Death appeared next to me.

“You can’t possibly be thinking of using that. It’ll scorch you to death,” Death said.

“It’s my only shot. Earth will never be safe as long as Michael is around. To kill him, I’m going to need to take hold of Umbra,” I said.

Death pleaded with me not to, but I put my hand on her shoulder and said, “I have to. This is my only option at the moment.”

She looked at me and then nodded.

I got closer to the blade, which growled at my approach.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the hilt of Umbra with my right hand, and black flames engulfed me. The pain was intense, and I almost let go of the blade, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

This sword was doing its best to kill me, but I had one last job to do, and Umbra was coming with me.

Umbra, of course, hated me for killing Lucifer.

I know you’re pissed I killed your master, but you’re looking at this all wrong. You were created to serve the strongest warrior in Hell. I killed that warrior, meaning, I’m the strongest warrior in Hell. You’ll now serve me because Lucifer was weak. Come with me to kill Michael, and I’ll show you what it’s like to serve a real master, I said to Umbra in my head.

The sword seemed to be thinking over my logic and proposal, and at last, it released me from its flames.

Sighing in relief, I felt my spirit body reform. I grew two black wings and once more felt whole. I rubbed my goatee and then pulled my long black hair back into a ponytail. It felt good to be back once more.

Looking back at my wings, I realized that I’d taken on a new color because of the blade I held. I’d find some magic to alter that later. I intended to change my wings back to red in Lilandra’s honor.

Walking over to Lucifer’s shrine, I saw his armor, a few bones, and Umbra’s scabbard.

I grabbed it and slung it over my back, sheathing Umbra. Like Velvet once did, the sheath produced a couple straps and tied itself to my body.

Death walked over and asked, “How did you tame that sword?”

“I just told it to obey me and forget about Lucifer since I killed him,” I said.

“Gutsy,” Death said.

“Can I get you to do me one more favor?”

“You want a trip to Heaven?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one more person to kill on my list,” I said.

Earth would never be safe as long as a maniac like Michael existed, and now that I had

the necessary weapon, I would not fail to remove the last threat from this world.