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Hell Beneath the Earth

TADHG

I was dancing with Sadie to the Mary J.

Blige version of U2’s “One,” and having a great time mansplaining to my mate why it was the best collaboration of all time, when a huge splash of water killed the dream.

“Alright, enough of this. Get up, ye pathetic dirty dose.”

Where am I?

I cracked one eye open to the now-familiar landscape of empty Teeling whiskey bottles, plates from over a month ago that Sadie had eaten off of, the broken pieces of the GoNoTo kludge I’d smashed with my boot just to feel something, and the green dress she’d left behind.

Oh, yeah… hell beneath the earth.

That was where I was.

I sat up in the room I’d made for her, in the bed that had stopped smelling like her just a few days after she’d left.

I pushed my wet hair out of my face.

Without access to my mobile barber from The Above, I hadn’t bothered getting a haircut since right before our queen delivery.

It was nearly to my shoulders now and greasy to the touch, despite the fact that someone—probably Brigid—had just doused me with what must have been a full bucket of cold water.

Sure enough, there stood my sister above me, holding the empty pail.

“For feck’s sake, look at the state of ye. I recovered faster from squeezing two twelve-pounders out me fanny!”

“You wanted to meet those babies. I didn’t want to fuck-up so bad I lost the love of my life.”

“Is that Da’s reserve whiskey? Jaysus Christ, those bottles are worth a good four figures in The Above. And what am I counting—eight to ten of them, completely drained? On top of enough empty Norwolf extra stouts to supply a recycling plant. What were you thinking?”

Brigid didn’t get it.

Drinking an entire bottle of Teeling’s every night because the Norwolf wasn’t enough wasn’t about thinking .

Just the opposite.

You got that bollixed every night to stop thinking.

To stop rerunning every mistake.

To maybe pass out and get the dream where you’re dancing with her to Mary J.

Blige—rather than the one where the Shadow King’s carrying her out of your life forever.

“Ugh, I refuse to ask what’s all over that green dress.”

She knew.

My head was screaming with a headache on top of all the bitter self-loathing.

I bent forward and put my elbows on my knees to cradle my head in my hands, dripping water onto the carpet she’d helped me pick out for Sadie.

I was grateful back then.

Now…

“Go away!” I growled.

My feckin’ sister did not go away.

“Ye’ve gone positively feral in here, Tygie.”

“Yeah…” My stomach churned, threatening to turn my regret into a load of vomit to join all the other filth.

“You should leave me the fuck alone, then.”

“I would—except I just about jumped out of me skin when the Shadow King popped up on the digital wall in the babies’ room with that feckin’ whiteboard of his.”

I froze, looked up from my slump.

“What?”

“Yeah. Lil’ Greggie’s still crying. Pretty sure he’s got the PTSDs now, so thank Jack feckin’ Skellingking for that.”

“Brigid. Brigid! ” I stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, this close to shaking her.

“What did the sign say?”

“Oh.” Brigid sobered.

“It said to check your messages. Sadie’s in some kind of trouble.”