Ancient Gods and the Angel Café: The Fifth Book of the Afterlife Series

Ancient Gods 

and the

Angel Café

Bambi Harris

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

Ancient Gods and the Angel Café

The Fifth Book of the Afterlife Series

Copyright © 2012 Bambi Harris

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-0160-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-0162-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-0161-0 (ebook)

iUniverse rev. date: 03/08/2012

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

To the lovely Carol P, how wonderful it is to call you friend. Your angelic countenance radiates throughout and settles upon all those near you.

And to Carl & Yolanda, so dear and openhearted, friendly and fun;

I will hold you in my heart always and cherish our enthusiastic banter

I need you Eric, I said aloud. Why can’t you help me?

I opened my eyes and stood, suddenly surprised to find myself back in my grand Roman dorm room.

Eleanor looked up at me with a curious gaze that bordered on disappointment.

Did you bring me back here? I asked, secretly hoping Eric had heard my plea.

She gestured for me to sit at the end of my bed so she would be a little closer to my height given her short stature. You shouldn’t leave during unallocated periods, she said with a stern whisper. Your answers must not be sought through misdemeanors.

I hung my head, embarrassed, then stretched out with my face down on the bed. Just cover me up and dispose of my body when I die, I mumbled into the quilt.

Eleanor got down on her knees and tilted her head, placing it slightly under mine. You are already deceased, Penny Lane, she stated matter-of-factly. You don’t have time to give up on life now. We are going out.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I am not going out, I insisted. I can’t effectively mope with such a distraction.

My point exactly.

Mortal Mapping & Melancholy, 2011

Chapter One

I struggled to lift my head and look around me so instead I stared down at the yellow flowered weeds beneath my pale bare feet. I believed I was dreaming, though the vividness of color and sensation were stronger than when I normally dreamt.

Ever since my murder I often had to question each dream to ensure an angel friend hadn’t relocated me in the night for a mission, or worse, the slight chance I had been taken by a deceased and disgruntled type with ulterior motives.

A sudden burst of chilled wind lifted the bottom of my long light green nightgown then pressed it firm against my ankles. I wasn’t fooled by the apparent calmness that hung in the night air and descended on me as I stood on the barren desert floor. As a seeyer, my senses were amplified and the undeniable sense of impending doom clung to me. I could quite literally taste my fear.

The moon’s ethereal light slowly increased and I could now see the trees and bushes scattered throughout the unoccupied landscape. As if someone had turned the sound on, I suddenly became aware of the trickling of water and turned to see a large collection of rocks that the water cascaded over and into a small bubbling brook.

I approached it tentatively and as I took a step towards it, the brook’s current ceased and the water flattened out like a still sheet of glass. I cautiously studied my reflection, my long brown hair dangling down over the water and framing my pale oval face. A few faint freckles remained on my slightly uneven nose and my pale pink lips curled upward against my rounded cheeks as if my own reflection mocked me.

I realized I didn’t wear a bra underneath my nightgown and became self-conscious given that I was rather ample in that area. The reflection of the rest of my slender but curvy figure tilted slightly almost condescendingly and it frightened me.

I backed away slowly, careful not to make a sound, but I was forced to stop when I walked into something cold and large that now pressed against my lower back.

I spun around then jumped back, startled by a large street sign that had somehow manifested there. The solitary word on the low-to-the-ground street sign said, Morpheus. It was a glaring, ambiguous statement that didn’t indicate any explanation, on a sign that didn’t offer any particular direction.

The name on the sign had a familiarity I couldn’t place but the triviality would have to rest for now, there were more pressing issues at hand, like my safety. Inanimate objects didn’t just appear unless someone was in control of them so I was very aware of being watched and considered hiding behind a tree to regain some of my courage.

I stared mindlessly at the sign, trying to plan my next move but the humming coming from behind me sounded as if it was getting louder, or closer, and in spite of my characteristically logical thinking, I decided to turn around and see what was causing it.

My arms dangled down at my sides as I stared up at a gigantic sand dune that hadn’t been there before.

At first the darkness shielded me from discerning the cause of the sound but then I squinted to see at the very top of the dune itself and noticed movement there; the kind of movement that was rapid and oncoming.

I looked around, thinking maybe I should hide somewhere or move out of the way of whatever the shadowy mass was, but a voice within, a literal, distinctly male voice, told me to run.

Not recognizing the voice, and pondering whether to trust it, I stood ground a little longer hoping that my concern would amount to nothing.

Alas, my instincts won over my hope and my stance took on a more permanent basis; I froze with terror. I could barely feel my eyes as they widened to take in the overwhelming sight of it all.

Man-like creatures in armor were riding equally spaced down the dune at breakneck speed. Their heraldic armor strung tight to their translucent gray bodies. Their shields were held uniformly at the sides of the horses they rode. Comet-like flames extended from their iron helmets as well as from the tails of their metallic red horses and they were heading directly toward me.

In spite of my penchant for thorough panic, I was still completely clear on the point that they were intentionally coming in my direction and that I would have to move out of their way to avoid being trampled.

I seized the sides of my nightgown so as to not trip on it, and sprinted as fast as was humanly possible away from the impending army.

The humming sound became a thunderous roar as the hooves of the unearthly horses stampeded toward me.

I could barely catch my breath as my feet and heart pounded wildly. I turned quickly to see that they were catching up to me, perhaps hundreds of them with dark determined gazes.

I quickened my pace and called out for Eric, my angel friend, in hopes that he might be able to save me. I was beginning to question if this was in fact a dream and I was unquestionably in severe danger.

As I ran to my right into the shadows of two large trees, I glanced at another sign that said, Morpheus, but I didn’t have time to stop and investigate further.

Suddenly I felt something hard slam against the back of my knees, sending me to the ground instantaneously. I turned to look at my captor, to plead, to scream, something, but then—

I woke so abruptly it was as if I had been slapped in the face and I knew something in my real life had woken me for I could hear Rufus pacing back and forth on the floor of my sixteenth century cottage.

My heart was still pounding wildly and the fear hadn’t completely left me. I sat still, trying to get my bearings in hope that there were no new surprises waiting for me in my home.

The darkness was so solid and I couldn’t understand why the moon didn’t shine through the small windows of the bathroom or kitchen areas. It was then that I realized I was completely under the covers, which was rare. I must have gotten cold in the night and had stayed up so late I didn’t even remember going to bed in the first place.

I lifted my head out from underneath the Victorian era hand-stitched quilt and realized that morning had already arrived. I could hear the birds happily singing outside of my two-room cottage and I stared wearily at the sun coming through the stained glass kitchen window casting light onto the end of the four-poster bed.

In the peace of the moment, I enjoyed the ever-perfect sensation of breathing in the crisp afterlife air. I had been dead going on four years now and never stopped counting my blessings for the many lessons I had learned since my murder.

My arms hung at the sides of my thin white antique nightgown and I shuddered as a chill encompassed my body. I breathed in the distinct smell of burning leaves and chimney smoke from the cottages nearby and yawned hard until tears sprang to my eyes.

I pondered the meaning of the signs and the evil army that chased me, it was unlike any dream that I had ever had. It was as real as any experience, and now a memory rather than a play of the mind.

Rufus scratched at the heavy wooden door with his gray scruffy paws then occasionally stopped and cocked his head to listen. I never made any assumptions anymore regarding who might turn up at my doorstep nor about anything else that occurred in this surreal world.

I considered that it might be Richard, my brother who lived in a cottage close to mine in the medieval era village, but it could also have been Adam, my handsome intuitive sixteenth century ex-beau.

I sensed a tinge of excitement and considered that it was more likely one of my closest friends; Avery, my handsome afterlife companion, or Eric, the sixties loving archangel. Either way I knew for certain that I was not dressed well enough to greet any of them at the door and I felt weighed down like a led balloon, with the fatigue of the night still on me.

I quickly got up and ran to the oval shaped walnut mirror in my large romantic yet modernly equipped bathroom. My long brown hair had morphed into a boxy eighties rock star kind of look while the antique linen had engraved a few red lines into my skin. I smiled anyway, my big blue eyes lighting up with excitement. There was a lot to think about and prepare for.

I had only just returned from studying mortal mapping at Apollo Academy and without a second to rest, all of my friends, including myself, had been volunteered to undertake a rather vaguely explained alien related mission.

The day that Avery greeted me at the gates, just after I died, he had only briefly mentioned their existence and the fact that they lived on a different afterlife plane. So up to this point I had never seen one.

I suppose I had been so preoccupied with melting, ghost retrieval missions and time travel that I never gave it much thought but now a million questions presented themselves.

Suddenly a loud sound, perhaps a quick riff of an electric guitar, caused me to jump out of my skin. I reached for an antique gold comb and quickly gave my hair the once over before reaching for a red velvet robe on the hook near the mirror.

I wrapped it around my body and tied it at the waist before shushing Rufus as I scurried quietly across the wooden floor. I stood with my ear against the ornately hinged door, listening intently as things outside had grown quiet.

Rufus’s excitement increased as he noticed my interest in the door so to stop him playfully tugging at the end of my robe, I used my mind to create a bowl of beef stew for him, on the floor next to the bed. He quickly ran for the distraction and I resumed my eaves dropping on the outside world.

I could hear footsteps crush a handful of leaves near the door, presumably male by the amount of crunch each step produced, then another loud guitar riff along with the wail of a very finely tuned male voice.

I froze to the spot, contemplating the meaning of this unusual occurrence but then I remembered before I had gone off to study, Avery had signed me up for the music greeters alarm program. In the past I had anyone from medieval minstrels to Frank Sinatra turn up on my doorstep so it was anyone’s guess as to what to expect today.

Suddenly the unseen man began to sing something about a cabinet and Marie Antoinette, for some reason the song sounded very familiar. Had I heard it on the radio while I was alive?

I opened the door while squinting my eyes against the blinding sun, subconsciously fearful that by looking directly out I would seem like a voyeur.

His voice suddenly amplified once he confirmed I was watching, and I found myself smiling in spite of my reluctance to appear impressed by anyone. He winked at me with one of his shining brown eyes and belted out the words of the well-known song, his moustache framing his mouth.

I couldn’t help but discretely glance at his now straightened teeth but he was handsome in person and he placed a tanned muscular arm over his tight white tank top as he continued singing. "She’s a killer queen…"

I felt Rufus position his head between the partially open door and me. I pushed him back into the cottage, worrying he might jump on Freddie and get caught on his tight white Lycra pants.

"Dynamite with a laser beam…" he continued dramatically. I liked his choice of song.

He must have been quite in demand as he was tying things up already by the end of the chorus, something about, guaranteeing to blow your mind. He then slammed his bare feet together like an army sergeant and flung out his arms, ending his theatrics with a royal style bow.

He lifted his head slowly and I imagined him on stage with an overdose of eighties fog lit up with colored stage lights. He spoke to me in a smooth posh English accent. Are you awake? he asked, as was custom for the alarms to do.

Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Mercury. I enjoyed it immensely, I said sincerely, though very disappointed I hadn’t had the chance to dress nicely before greeting a music legend.

He nodded and vanished from the spot. I took a quick look outside, the crisp morning air had a tinge of warmth in it and as usual would turn into a perfect mid seventies day.

I kicked away some rebel leaves that were threatening to enter my premises and quickly closed the door against a sudden gust of wind.

Not much had been said yesterday regarding our mission or how it would be organized, but I knew that any time now someone would be turning up to enlighten me on the specifics and I wanted to be dressed by then.

I rushed to the bathroom, the only other room that branched off of the bedroom area of the large studio style home and pressed the button on the wall near the door of the ambient wooden room. A candle sconce on the wall next to the circular in-ground bath, lit up automatically; a magical gift that Eric had installed in my cottage while I was away at school.

The water, set at a hotter than average temperature, suddenly started running automatically, filling the bath within minutes. I added some lavender and sweet pea bubble bath oils and hummed the Queen tune that my alarm had just woken me with; most of the actual lyrics eluded me.

Within minutes I plunged my entire body, including my head, underneath the murky bubbly water and relaxed at the bottom of the deep marble bath.

I had now gotten used to breathing under water, as had Rufus, but for some reason he didn’t join me today. Instead he curiously paced, treading excitedly around the bath and then out of the room and back again.

The bone landed on the floor with a loud thud, and if Rufus’s wagging tail was any indication, he was happy with my creation.

I closed my eyes and sighed, letting the scented water caress my weary body. I relaxed very intentionally, knowing that soon I would barely spend a minute alone. I thought about Avery and wondered if anything would ever happen between us. Pauline was teasingly insistent that he was quite fond of me, and certainly many signs pointed to it.

My self-esteem had been so low in the past I questioned how someone as offbeat and essentially imperfect as me could attract the likes of the enigmatic and popular sexiest undead man of the year, for the fourth year in a row no less.

After my last stint in the underground I realized how important it was to not doubt myself or let anyone else put me down. Now, armed with this very new and unexplored confidence, I had to try and view my relationship with him in a new light, if only I could really ascertain where we stood in the first place.

Despite the terrors and tragedies of my last life on Earth, I now had a handful of wonderful people, and angels, in my life. I had to wonder, with eternity ahead of me, whether undertaking anything more intense with Avery would ultimately lead to deterioration in our rock solid friendship.

Without warning, Rufus, who I had not been paying attention to, bounded in and barked loudly at me. Though breathing under water was easy enough, yelling under it was another thing so I popped my head out and kneeled on one of the baths’ inbuilt marble steps. Rufus, stop! I admonished him, and as usual, he ignored me completely.

Suddenly the silhouette of an unseen person cast a shadow across the outside entrance of the bathroom. I instantly froze, quickly considering my options for immediate safety. Nothing came to mind.

Chapter Two

Before I could duck back into the water, the only hiding place at my disposal, a man approached the doorway and I relaxed slightly, recognizing his shiny black shoes immediately. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I yelled at him.

A grin appeared on his handsome tanned face and a mischievous glint appeared in his vivid green eyes. You’re already dead, he said, pan faced as he placed his hands in the pockets of his dark blue dress slacks and leaned against the walnut doorway.

Doesn’t mean you should test my terror levels, I grunted, checking the bubble placement for modesty’s sake. I took a deep breath and noticed Rufus had finally calmed down and was happily chewing his bone in the corner of the bathroom beside the small shelf of folded gold and purple towels. Why didn’t you knock? I asked a little more calmly.

I did, he replied as he removed his right hand from his pocket and straightened his mid blue knit sweater before replacing his hand into the pocket. The light streaming through the small stained glass bathroom window cast a simulated halo around his curly sandy brown hair.

And? I urged incredulously.

"And you didn’t answer so I figured you were in the