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There were things in our worlds that could bring the strongest among us to our knees. Zim never thought he would experience a moment when he must put his ego aside and talk to someone he despised with a passion. How cruel was the system that kept their realms in balance? Humans called it God, but demons knew better. Or did they?
That was the question haunting him since he learned about the corruption in the Underworld. Did anyone even know who kept the balance between the worlds? Or what might happen if it were to tip?
If Meena was there, she would laugh at these questions and tell him he read too much. Then he would remind her there was no such thing as too much reading. But the thirst to learn everything about their existence and the universe they existed in kept him up at night. He might be the only demon in the Otherworld who cared more about truth than getting his next soul.
He was one hundred years old. And spent half of that time as a kid. Meena thought it strange he didn't have parents and lived alone. But as a mere child, she couldn't understand that demons aged slower than any other being. He never corrected her belief because the awe in her eyes was intoxicating. He might have appeared as a child, even acted as one, but he was old enough to be on his own when they met for the first time.
Thinking of her made him smile until the old man's voice broke the spell and brought his attention back to the bedridden fellow.
"Not everything that turns out badly should be considered a mistake." The man sighed, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He must have felt crushed under it.
After a pause, he said, "That's a lesson I have learned in my brief life on this earth. I know I will die soon, and maybe my life hasn't been perfect, but I have done my best. I think that's all that counts. Don't you agree?"
Zim stared at him intently. The man knew things that could help Zim with his quest, but he wouldn't speak because someone asked nicely. Everything had a price in this universe, and Zim needed to figure out the right one to make him talk.
"I've no intention of killing you," Zim reassured the man, "You need not worry about that. I'm here to chat and that's all."
"Ah," he said, chuckling. The relief in his voice was evident. "I never knew you were the talkative type." He tried to joke. It didn't work, though. The situation was too dire to joke about. Besides, they weren't friends.
"And I can see you are still trying to hide your dread behind dry humor." Zim could kill him in an instant if he wanted to. The man was defenseless, and Zim had enough reasons to hate him. There was a time when he wanted this man dead, as much as the man wanted the same for Zim. It wouldn’t be wrong to call them mortal enemies, though only one of them was mortal.
Zim walked toward the bed and sat down near the man whose soul was almost ready to leave his body. It was clear from the dimness of his eyes and the slowing of his ragged breaths. Zim could feel the human’s soul readying itself to depart. How sad that at such a monumental time he lay in bed all alone. No one was there to hold his hands or to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. Such was the life he had lived.
Zim could see how feeble the man had gotten. He was propped on his bed, pillows supporting him. The room wasn't well-lit, casting surreal shadows. Time and aging took away all his vigor, leaving a husk behind. Looking at his sick body, the full impact of human mortality hit Zim yet again. And for a second, he felt sorry for the frail-looking creature. But he reminded himself that man had lived longer than most humans. His death would be no tragedy.
Zim wasn't human, though. Death was one less thing for him to worry about. If he didn't know what happened to the souls after they left the bodies of unsuspecting humans, he might have been just as afraid as the man lying before him. The unknown could render the most intelligent of us witless. But there was nothing to be afraid of. Not that he would tell the man to console him.
"Look, Zim," this time his tone was more serious, "I'm dying, as you can tell. In a perfect world, I wouldn't have to see you before I took my last few breaths, but our world isn't perfect and here we are. Why don't you cut to the chase and tell me what this impromptu visit is all about?"
If anyone looked at them from afar, they might think of two long-lost friends catching up and reliving the good old times or a family member visiting his relative on a deathbed. Nothing could be further from the truth. Once this guy had come closer to killing Zim than anyone else ever did. He was probably the only human who managed that feat. Unfortunately for him, it only revealed that Zim wasn't someone a mere human could kill. Anyway, his today's visit wasn't about vengeance or the revival of the past ghosts. This time, Zim needed help. And it might be his last chance since the guy was on the brink of dying.
"So? Why are you here?" he asked again, staring into Zim's eyes as he sat there in silence, observing the old man.
He was the first human brave enough to make eye contact with a demon. Zim couldn't help but admire his courage. And he knew it wasn't just old age because this man had always been brave. Even as a child, he didn't cower in fear at the sight of a demon.
"I need your help," Zim said breaking the silence that had stretched between them. "And I'm willing to pay a fair price. Make a deal with me."
"How the times have changed." The man let out a laugh at the absurdity of their situation. And then started coughing and wheezing. It took him a while before he continued, "Never thought I'll live to see the day when a demon will ask a human to make a deal with him."
Zim didn't respond to his comment. There was no need to, and the situation was uncomfortable enough as it was. "Will you help or not?" He wasn't full of himself, but it bruised his ego to be in a position where he needed human cooperation to find something dear to him. But he was on a mission to save a friend. And for his friends, he would walk on hot iron if he must—not that it would hurt him, but you get the point.
"You know what?" the man said, smiling. "I will help you, and you don't even need to do anything for me in return. I only ask that when it is finally my time, you make sure that my soul doesn't end up in the Otherworld. I don't want to become demon fodder. I want to see my mother and be reborn someday."
Rebirth might be a myth, but Zim saw no point in correcting the human. He would let him have his beliefs and his gods. Even with his extensive knowledge of the Underworld and the Otherworld, this man was still more ignorant than any supernatural.
Running his hands through his wavy mess of hair, Zim sighed. The man's demand was unexpected, and Zim wondered if he should make that promise, or let the human know the truth. What a conundrum. He wanted to stay on the high moral ground but also wanted his question answered. "Are you sure about that?" Demons didn't decide which souls stayed in the Otherworld becoming their source of energy and which moved forward to the Beyond.
Most humans and even the supernatural, thought Underworld was the last stop before souls moved to Beyond—to be judged or whatever your belief system told you. But that wasn't the truth.
After their brief stay in the Underworld, their next stop was the Otherworld. He couldn't be hundred percent sure if even that was their last stop before the Beyond, but that was the general impression demons had. Demons fed on souls. They needed them to stay alive. Zim didn't know how or who chose those souls, but that was how their world worked. Some souls stayed while others moved on. The ones that didn't leave, ceased to exist as soon as demons consumed them.
"Yes." The man's response made Zim sigh, but he must strike the deal.
"Okay, then I'll do my best to make sure your soul doesn't become demon food. It's all I can promise." He phrased his sentence carefully because trying was the only thing he could accomplish.
"Thank you. That's good enough. Now, what do you need from me?" The man closed his eyes as if preparing himself for something dreadful.
He was a strange man. Zim had known him pretty much his entire life, and he hadn't been able to figure him out. Whether he hated Zim or loved him was still a mystery. He had spent half his life trying to kill Zim and another half trying to forget him. Where Zim pitied the man, he respected him too. And wondered how things might have turned out. Only if he was aware of the man's abilities when he came to collect his mother's soul, right in front of him. Back then, this old man was a child, and unwittingly Zim revealed himself to him. What followed wasn't a cheerful story by any means. But it was all in the past.
No reason to dwell on the mistakes he couldn't rectify. How a human child could see a demon remained a mystery. Perhaps that was for the best.
"I need to know everything you know about the realm of the witches. How to get there and how to get back?" Zim asked the man.
"Ah, so it's about the witches." Opening his eyes, the man looked at Zim. "I wondered. Anyhow, you have come to the right person if you need to know about the witches."
"So," Zim prompted him as the man didn't elaborate.
"It's difficult to explain. The realm of the witches is a well-hidden secret of the universe. I discovered it by accident, as I was hot on your tails, demon."
"I know about your lifelong obsession with the supernatural. You're the only pure-blooded human who can see us. I know that much even if I don't understand how. I also know that you have discovered quite a few secrets about our hidden worlds. Some even we don't know. But still, you're too young to know it all. Anyway, I'm here, breaking the promise to myself that I wouldn't seek you out, lest my temper got away with me because I have heard you know something about the world of the witches."
"I know you hate me because I tried to kill you." The man sidetracked, again.
"That's not true," Zim said, his tone betraying his emotions. "I hate you because you tried to kill Meena when you failed to kill me. You shouldn't have gone after her. She had nothing to do with what happened with your mother. Hell! The blame was your mother's, and hers alone."
"Yes, I understand my mistake. I didn't realize how much you love her, or maybe I did. I just wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me—pathetic but human."
"I can understand, but your mother made a deal with me. Her soul was mine for the taking. There was nothing you could've done to save her."
Humans were fickle. They wanted little things and created big messes. But Zim didn't want to rub his mother's mistakes into the man's face. The guy was about to meet her in the afterlife if he was lucky.
"Yes, I know now," he said, taking another deep breath. "There’s a book. Rather a journal. I'm not sure who wrote it or when, but it contains all the details about witches and their realm." Once again, he closed his eyes. "Along with many interesting spells."
Zim said nothing, waiting for him to continue. When the man said nothing more, he asked, "Where is it?"
The man remained silent. He was also motionless, and when Zim looked closely, he realized the man had already taken his last breath. Bugger! The man's soul appeared out of his body. And a Grim Reaper was there to collect it—annoyingly prompt. Zim didn't get the chance to interrogate him any further.
"Well, well, what do we have here? No one told me this soul belongs to a demon," the newcomer said with false cheerfulness.
"Because it doesn't," Zim said, looking at the Reaper, who was enjoying herself a little too much. She made him feel disgusted.
Grim Reapers had no compassion for the souls they collected. They were like robots, doing their job, and pretending as if they were superior to other beings. Demons, at least, had some integrity. They were never cruel and gave something in return to the souls they claimed as their own out of necessity. If they could survive without souls, they would.
"Then stay out of my way," she said.
"I have no intention of standing in it." He stood up, glancing at the man's lifeless, prone body one last time. He teleported back to the Otherworld.
At least he confirmed there was a way to learn more about the witches. He would try to look for the journal on his own. He might go back and look through the man's library. The journal might be hidden there somewhere. It might take a while, but Zim planned to keep looking until he reached the bottom of this mess. Only then Meena would be safe, and she wouldn't have to hide from her past anymore.
