Page 84 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Underworld

“You are not a soul. You are a living mortal who has trespassed into sacred space. There are protocols for dealing with such—” I struggled to find the right word, “—irregularities.”

“Protocols, got it,” she said, nodding as if she was taking notes. “So, what’s the usual procedure for handling unexpected visitors who aren’t quite dead but still trespass? Do you have a form I need to fill out, or is there a waiver I should sign?”

I groaned inwardly, both agitated and fascinated as she boldly stumbled beside me, her eyes darting around the eerie beauty of Duat with an odd mixture of wonder and misplaced optimism. Her movements were clumsy, yet there was an unmistakable determination in her posture. The scent of her, a curious blend of the recently deceased with a hint of blood, wafted to my nose, and it struck me with unexpected intensity. She smelled like home, a haunting reminder of the afterlife I was so deeply entwined with. I flicked my ears back at the wayward thought, trying to suppress the unsettling connection it evoked.

As we proceeded, the atmosphere around us shifted. A disembodied spirit, its essence unraveling like mist in the morning sun, followed us at a distance. It drifted aimlessly, its once-clear form now fragmented and dissipating into the void of Duat. The spirit’s deterioration mirrored the chaos and confusion that seemed to pervade our journey.

“I suppose we should get you to the Hall of Two Truths,” I said coldly, trying to maintain a semblance of detachment despite the turmoil within me. “It’s where the souls are judged.”

The Hall of Two Truths, a place where the weight of one's deeds was measured against the feather of Ma’at, was a destination that promised clarity amid the chaos. As we approached, the air grew heavier with the presence of ancient spirits and the echoes of divine judgments. The spirit that followed us, now barely more than a wisp of its former self, seemed to waver with the ebb and flow of our progress, adding an eerie punctuation to our path.

The little female elbows me and I stop abruptly, startled by her sudden touch. “Hey, who’s the creep following us?”

I looked in the direction of her pointing to see the disembodied spirit floating a short distance behind us.

“Your, as you say, ‘late night snack’,” I deadpanned.

She gasps and jumps back, hitting my body with hers as if seeking my presence for comfort. It was a strange sensation and thought to wrap around. My hand moved on its own accord, slowly rising to touch her skin when she elbowed me again.

“You mean that’s sleazy Yalin from the bar? The guy that molested the teenage girl before getting a drink and trying to grab me in the ass?” Her demeanor instantly shifted upon her realization, her hands instantly on her round hips. “Seems I can’t get rid of you scum. Why are you following me? I told you, I didn’t want any of your drinks or your touches.”

She took a bold step forward and my hackles rose.

“And I made sure you never touch anyone again,” she hisses like a deity in her own right with the power of life and death in her hands. “I should have cut your head off and fed it to the fishes.”

The spirit’s light shifts in hue, expanding and contracting with emotion. A few awkward moments later, the spirit’s light dims slightly, its voice cracking with frustration. “I’m trying to find peace here! Is it too much to ask for a bit of understanding?”

“Oh, understanding?” she retorts, hands digging into her hips. “Maybe try offering a bit of actual remorse before asking for that. You’re in no position to demand anything after the mess you’ve made.”

The little female swung her finger directly into my face without turning around, making me snarl. “It’s not like Anubis here is running a charity for disgruntled spirits.”

I scowled, bewildered by how I’d become entangled in their argument. The spirit’s light flickered in a resigned pattern, while she shot one last disparaging glance at the apparition.

“Just stay away from me,” she snapped before grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her. “Come on, Anubis. We don’t need the likes of him with us.”

Her misplaced optimism about our relationship clashed with the grim reality of our surroundings, and her scent—a visceral reminder of the mortal world—hung between us like a shadow. I felt the tension between my duty and the strange, unsettling attraction I harbored.

The journey to the Hall of Two Truths was not just about navigating the realm of the dead but also about confronting the unexpected emotions stirred within me by this unwelcome, yet oddly captivating, intruder.

“I suppose we should get you to the Hall of Two Truths,” I tell her coldly. “Where the souls are judged.”

“Oh, great,” she said, looking more excited than apprehensive. “I’ve always wanted to see a scale in action. Are we talking ‘Scale of Justice’ or ‘the Big Cheese’ of cosmic judgment? Because I’m really into that stuff.”

Osiris help me.My ears flicked back in agitation. This is why I’d rather deal with the dead. The dead didn’t speak. The dead didn’t do… whatever she was doing to me.

As we approached the Hall of Two Truths, a place in the afterlife where the deceased were judged before passing into an eternal paradise known as the Field of Reeds, her attempts at flippancy continued.

She glanced at the towering scales and the grimacing statues that lined the hall. “Wow, this place is really... spacious. I can totally see why you’d want to hang out here. It’s got that whole ‘endless waiting room’ vibe. So, what’s the plan?”

I couldn’t help but be perplexed by her nonchalant attitude toward what was supposed to be a solemn, intimidating space. Her casual demeanor was at odds with the gravity of our situation, and her apparent ease with me added another layer of confusion. Though, I sensed the tension she carried every time ‘sleazy Yalin’ got too close to her liking.

I guided her to the scales. “You will face the trials of Duat,” I declared with a hint of finality, my frustration barely concealed. “They will test you and—hopefully—instill a sense of respect for the boundaries between life and death.”

“Trials? Sounds like a reality show,” she quipped, glancing around with an amused expression. “Do I get a chance to win a fabulous prize, or is it just a lifelong subscription to the Underworld Gazette?”

Her comments were met with silence as I struggled to maintain my composure. The underworld was not a stage for comedy, and yet her presence made it seem as though it should be. I could only hope that the trials would impress upon her the seriousness of her intrusion.

As I watched her, a disquieting realization settled over me. Her easy banter and untroubled demeanor, so inappropriatewith the solemnity of our surroundings, stirred an unfamiliar sensation within me— her presence was, in a way, profoundly affecting me.

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