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“-understand your frustration, but your claim on his soul is weak.”
“Weak?!” Gabriel jolted awake at the yelling. He blinked his eyes open, his shoulders making it painfully obvious he’d been slumped forward for a while. A bulky, olive skinned man pointed at him aggressively. “He is one of the most prominent figures in our mythology!” Gabriel wasn't quite sure whether he should be confused, complimented, or confused.
He quickly gathered they were sat in a small bar, around a small four-seater table. Who “they” referred to, he wasn't entirely sure yet. There was a cloying odour of cigarettes and beer, and sickly sweet knock-off perfumes.
“I respect your claim,” the woman chimed in. A winged helm rested on her lap. A mix of red silk and carved silver armour wrapped around her body; her forearm guards were engraved with twisting vines. Her blonde hair was weaved with red ribbons, falling down to her waist.
“But you hold claim on the soul of a mortal figure, which he clearly is not. Loki belongs in Valhalla – my sisters and I have all selected him to enter the Great Hall.”
“What’s going on?” Gabriel asked, to no avail.
“Patroclus belongs in Elysium. He acted with utmost bravery in the Trojan War, and the rewards must be reaped.” The bulky man had resorted to glaring at the blonde woman – a Valkyrie, Gabriel realised. “Anyways, we have held our claim on him far longer than you have.”
The Valkyrie made to speak when the third presence became painfully obvious. A slender man clad in all black. His pale skin was wrapped like cling film around high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. He didn't speak; he placed a half-eaten slice of pizza back on his plate.
In the following silence, Gabriel pieced together what he could.
Last he remembered, Lucifer’s blade was buried to the hilt inside his chest. He had definitely died. He had no doubt about that.
And now, he was sat at a table in a tacky bar, with a Valkyrie to his left, Hades to his right and Death directly opposite. They all spoke about him, yet refused to acknowledge his presence.
“You are both bickering over falsified identities Gabriel held. He is by name and nature, a descendant of Heaven,” Death said. He didn't seem incredibly interested in the discussion. “I have it on his Father’s word that he is to return to Heaven.”
“Someone going to explain, or am I just here to sit pretty?”
Death met Gabriel’s gaze. There was a glint in the Horseman’s eyes, and a small smirk playing on his lips. “I like you,” Death said. It wasn’t a far cry from his earlier monotonous voice. “You appear to have broken the system of the afterlife with your gallivanting, Gabriel. You belong in four different realms. We have been trying to negotiate where your soul goes for far too long.”
“And I’m here, why?”
“Your Father suggested we involve you when we struggled to reach an agreement.”
Gabriel nodded slowly. It was becoming clear that he might’ve accidentally given himself a clear path out of death here.
“I have a suggestion,” he said. Hades continued to pointedly ignore him.
“I doubt it is a new one, boy, but do share,” the Valkyrie replied bitterly. Death seemed vaguely amused.
“How about I live?” Gabriel smirked. The Valkyrie looked at him as though he had grown another head. Death raised an eyebrow in interest. Even Hades had stopped ignoring him and was giving him an incredulous glare. “Think about it. You’ve all got a claim on me. So sure, you can stroke my ego and fight over who gets me till the end of time, or you can all forfeit your claims, let me live, and get back to your lives.”
No-one spoke.
Gabriel began to wonder if he’d overstepped and suggested something ridiculous, when Death chuckled lightly. The disgust and confusion the Valkyrie had glared at him with was slowly morphing into a thoughtful gaze. Hades had looked away again, but he seemed more confused than annoyed.
“Can we do that?” The Valkyrie asked.
“I don’t know?” Hades shrugged in response. “We’ve never had to deal with anything like this before.”
“Us neither.”
Quiet fell again, but it was one of confusion rather than ridicule. Of three mighty beings trying to tackle what they’d once believed to be an impossible situation.
Death lifted the blanket that muffled their words and said, “If the two of you are willing to release your claim on his soul, I’m willing to do the same.”
Gabriel hadn’t noticed he was holding his breath. Not that he needed to breathe anyway, but it had become a habit whilst living amongst the humans.
“I release my claim,” Hades said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I can’t keep making Persephone fill in at judgements for me. I need to get back to work.” The god didn’t seem too happy, but Gabriel didn’t care. His words were binding now – he’d essentially torn up the contract demanding Patroclus’ soul.
The Greek god looked at Gabriel, and nodded slowly. He stood up and left the table. Hades rounded the corner, but the bell hung over the door never rang.
The Valkyrie paused for a moment, then nodded. “I release my claim. You died bravely, but those weren’t Loki’s actions – those were Gabriel’s. You’re welcome in Valhalla when you do pass, boy, but do not rush to us.”
She smiled gently at him, then lifted her helmet atop her head. The Valkyrie walked from the table. She looked like the definition of elegance and beauty, flowing through the room and away from the table. The bell never rang.
Only Death was left, watching Gabriel carefully.
“It’s not often I have firsts anymore, boy, and you gave me two. You know at one point, nine realms held claims on your soul? Seven of those were to afterlives built for heroes.”
“The other two?”
“Purgatory, for the times you identified as the Trickster with no Pagan association. And Hell – no real reason, Crowley just wanted in on the party.” Gabriel chuckled. It sounded exactly like Crowley.
“You guys sure know how to make someone feel loved,” Gabriel remarked. The edges of Death’s lips curled up into a soft smile.
“I suppose I must uphold my word – representing both Heaven and Purgatory, I release my claim.” Gabriel shook his head in disbelief, grinning. “The other first, if you were wondering, was someone sweet talking their way out of dying. You’ve impressed me, boy.”
“I try my best,” Gabriel replied. The smile on his lips dropped a little, and with a more serious tone, he asked: “How long has it been since I died?”
“Almost five years.”
“Oh.”
Death stood up. His black coat almost touched the floor. He started to walk away from the table.
“Wait," Gabriel called out. Death stopped. “Something’s changed. I can feel it.”
Death smiled sympathetically. “Something has changed,” he replied. The blunt statement told Gabriel that the Horseman wasn't going to say anymore. “I wish you luck, Gabriel.”
Death walked away, and the bell above the door chimed.
The bar grew more animated and lively. A waitress came over to ask if he wanted anything. The dim echo of prayers rattled around his mind. The television in the corner belted out a football commentary.
Life began again.