Page 36

Story: Aftertaste

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THE SECOND TIME I died, it was by choice.

It took me months to find a safe way back.

Brink, the place was called. A death club.

Death clubs are maybe the city’s best-kept secret. Fleeting as a dream. Just two or three in existence, though even that’s impossible to confirm. They arrive in the dark, usually someplace dead or dying. Are gone again by morning. Never in the same place twice.

The night I went, Brink was in the Meatpacking, inside the corpse of a trendy Asian fusion spot. The elaborate décor—opulent settees, ornamental lanterns, spiral stairs, and painted silk screens—had all been co-opted, defaced, draped in shrouds and moss and black-flame candles until the space reanimated from an expired clubstaurant into some sort of deathless in-between. Not a party, exactly. More like the ghost of one.

Around midnight, palanquins appeared, carried by beautiful women and men. They were dressed like djinn—midnight scarves obscuring their mouths; thick, teardrop liner emphasizing their eyes. They really romanced the hell out of dying.

Psychopomps , a stranger beside me whispered to another.

They wound their way through the room like shadows, taking guests by the hand, leading them back to their deathbeds. When I was selected, I didn’t feel fear or hesitation, only want, the draw to death like leaning in for a kiss.

The mattress smelled like velvet, the pillows like dust. My psychopomp rolled up my sleeve. I let her plunge a syringe into my vein without even asking what was in it.

Was anyone ever so na?ve, so brazen? So sure they could die and come right back?

When the poison took hold, the room went still. Fog gathered at the edges of my eyes. The psychopomp leaned close and whispered in my ear, her breath a feather.

Follow the sound of my voice.

I’m coming, Ev , I whispered back.

Then she counted down from ten, and I died for the second time.

It was different than before. I didn’t watch the life leave my eyes. I didn’t wake to Everleigh’s voice. I just passed over. Through.

The veil between the Living and the Dead drew me in, guided my spirit, deposited me before the welcoming glow of—I shit you not—an In-N-Out Burger.

Turns out the Afterlife? Where you go when you die? It’s a Food Hall.

There were good things to eat in every direction. Spirits strolled the streets with the lazy haze of tourists. They ate crepes in waxed paper; they licked swirls of ice cream. They chewed translucent strips of prosciutto folded inside newsprint cones.

My stomach growled at the sights; it moaned at the smells. Garlic crisping in foaming slabs of butter. Crusty bread, still steaming from the oven. Glossy discs of chocolate melting over double boil.

In the Hall, it was impossible to think about anything but food. Everywhere I looked, something beckoned. And as I passed a storefront—a sweetshop, the candy arranged in the window like so many jewels—the cravings won.

Just one bite , I thought, and pulled open the door.

Inside, on a marble counter, a black box appeared. Nestled inside were four perfect confections—a sampler surprise. The aroma was decadent—thick and bittersweet. I didn’t even think before shoving one into my mouth.

A gourmet peanut cup.

Dark chocolate. Crunchy nut interior. Hard, thick outer shell.

A bastardization, but enough to trigger a memory so strong I nearly dropped the box.

Reese’s.

Everleigh.

Halloween.

The whole reason I was there.

It felt like being yanked out of a trance. I was supposed to be looking for her! She needed my help! She was in pain, and here I was, wasting time I didn’t have.

I felt panic rise into my throat. I shivered.

And then the candy shop swam before my eyes, going liquid.

The Hall was gone.

Back at Brink, they’d administered the antidotes.

STRANGE MUSIC FLOODED my ears as I awoke; a penlight dilated my eyes.

How do you feel? the psychopomp asked me.

The answer toppled out before my brain knew what my mouth was saying.

Hungry.

That’s normal. She smiled. Let’s get you a snack.

But this Hunger, it turned out, wasn’t normal.

It belonged to the Afterlife, to the Dead.

And it had followed me home.