5 of a kind

A fantasy short story

Vex put his cards on the table, "5 of a kind, I win."

Ellen rolled her eyes. She was glad they were playing for small stakes. A huge snake-headed thing bumped her chair behind her and, out of long habit, she bumped back.

"I'll buy a round, what do you want"

"A beer." In Hell, that meant Fosters.

"I'll have a cosmopolitan." Blight, hummed, her thousands of mouthparts clicking and contorting to form the words.

Ellen looked at her for a moment, "Are you old enough to drink?"

"I've been practising for a billion years, I think I've got it down." Blight threw her huge butterfly wings back in mock indignation.

Ellen made her way to the bar, smiling.

"Cinder! How's the wife," she called.

"It's Hell! It must be our turn to have you for dinner."

"How's the book coming, Skiv?"

"Slooooowwwwlllyyy. I'mmm sttrrruuuggggliinnggg fooorr iiiiinnnsssssssppiiirrrraattiiioooonnnn."

Ellen hopped over his sticky trail "Have you tried that new coffee shop on the corner of 6th and 6th and 6th? I hear it's full of creative souls."

"Ttthhhaaaaaannnnkkkk yyyy-"

Ellen was already off.

The Bad Habit was a pretty good bar as far as Hell went. It was a tall single room with two mezzanine levels above the taps. The room was filled with what looked like drunken taxidermy - a jackal with the head of a falcon, a komodo dragon covered in eyes, a vulture with spiders legs instead of wings, all with Skiv's shelled bulk slowly moving through the crowd. There were a few of the damned dotted around, their white pupils reflecting the lamplight. She had lost sight of Vex, baboon-like with far too many hands, but she could see Blight's wingtips above the crowd.

She had to wait a while to get Bella's attention

"Two beer and a cosmo, please".

"How much are you down?" Bella asked, her tentacles preparing all three drinks at once.

"About 10 souls, but I'll win it back." Ellen said, gripping the three glasses in her hands.

"Good luck, hon."

There is no more focused task than carrying three drinks through a crowded bar. About halfway she noticed that the tumult had stopped parting for her, and she felt a brief moment of empathy for the Biblical Pharaoh. She looked up, a pair of jaguar shoulders next to a large leather Jacket reading "The Angels". She wished she were taller.

Looking back and up at the mezzanine levels everyone was staring at the door.

"I am here for Ellen Hargreaves" A voice sang out.

Then all hell broke loose. She shoved the drinks down on the nearest table and bolted for the bar.

Lottie, a huge winged serpent who had been coiled in the top corner of the room flew down, her wings spreading to metres across.

Ellen ran through the bar hatch, nearly tripping over the step up to the raised area behind. She peeked over the counter.

The bar was at war, the angel, a gold spidery underwater thing with wings on each of its legs was holding off 10 or so attackers, 2 of its wing legs holding back Lottie’s sinuous form, another jousting with a scorpion-bear carrying a sword. Someone threw a chair at the angel, which it caught, somehow, and set down beside itself. Despite all this, it was slowly moving towards the bar.

Bella turned to her, "I'm so sorry my love, but you've got to go with it"

Ellen felt betrayed. "What?"

"No, no, not like that. But it's an angel. You can't beat angels. They always win, they always get their objective."

Ellen looked back at the angel, it was still moving towards her in an almost leisurely fashion. Lottie had slashes all along her flanks. There were still 10 or 20 demons fighting it, though even as she watched a wing arm slammed one in the ribs, throwing the demon across the room.

"I just go?"

"Yes, or it will start killing your friends. Currently I sense it is very much toying with us"

She sighed and then screamed slightly, before hunching her shoulders "I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go."

Ellen reached up and rang the bar's bell.

The fighting slowed, someone tried to hit the angel with a pool cue, which it batted aside.

"I'm here, I'll go" Ellen cried.

The angel pushed itself up on its lower wings, and raised its upper ones, until it was 4 metres tall. Eyes opened along the edges of its wings and they all stared at the only human in a room of demons and the damned.

"Ellen Hargreaves." It cocked its central hub slightly, "The Lord would like a word."

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I originally wrote this for Rachel’s birthday. So Happy Birthday Rachel, you are great!