Chapter 18: The Gede Family

--- Miles Kennedy ---

Something kicked him.

He would’ve ignored it and just stayed like he was, but unfortunately that something decided to kick him again.

“Time to get up boyo.” A very accented but somehow smooth and bass-y voice told him.

His face scrunched up as he fought his own eyes, but ever so slowly he managed to open them. And given how he found a glowing skull looking down on him, he was pretty sure he should’ve kept them closed.

“Boy don’t look at me like your pretty gal turned out to be a pretty man.” The skull scolded with a grin as it adjusted its suit. “If you thought they were pretty one way, you still think they’re pretty the otha’.”

His eyes darted around as he tried to scramble from the suited skeleton, revealing a dark world of velvet blues and grays clouded by smoke. “W-where am I?”

The skeleton put its hands on its hips. “Where ya think lad? Thought ya’d be smarta’ than this!”

He swallowed, his gaze drifting from the dark world to the skeleton in front of him. “You’re… I’m… this is… this can’t be…”

“Okay, ya a bit slow, but we can work on that.” The skeleton assured him. “So to speed thangs up a bit. Ya not actually dead, but ya are in the afterlife… sorta.”

“Sorta?” He asked, even as his mind latched on hard to the ‘not actually dead’ part.

“If yous and a gal be naked together, but not touchin’ do ya count as having sex yet? Nah.” The skeleton waved as if he was being silly. “You not dead because ya be naked but not havin’ sex ya get me?”

“No…” He shook his head wondering (what the fuck) the skeleton was talking about.

The skeleton shook his own head looking disappointed. “Ya be a slow boy. A very slow boy.” The skeleton sighed before giving him a look. “Ya not dead yet, ya just been knocked outta ya body.”

“Knocked out of my body?” He repeated, giving the dark world another hesitating look before focusing back on the skeleton. “Does, does that mean I can go back into my body?”

He may not have quite understood what was going on but (I can fake it… hopefully.)

“Right, well yes and no. Hate bein’ the bearer of bad news, but ya kinda be dyin’ at the moment.” The skeleton told him sounding a bit bashful about it. “But it before ya time so we gotta sort out some business with the family to get ya back where ya belong.”

“What kind of business?” He asked with no small amount of wariness, given the whole ‘dying’ thing. (But he told me I’m not dead yet, so…)

He just needed to keep moving.

“Given some of the crazy goin’ on and how ya family done us some solids, we plan on making ya an offa, but that’s gotta wait till we get ya to the talkin’ table.” The skeleton explained, before offering him a hand. “Which we be a bit late for on account a ya bein’ a bit slow an’ all.”

“Okay…” He nodded, forcing himself not to panic as he took the skeleton’s hand.

“Ah, before I forget. Name’s Sammy. Sammy D. Gede.” The skeleton introduced as he pulled Miles to his feet. “Friends call me Papa Gede.”

The name tickled something in his mind, but he couldn’t quite remember with everything going on so instead he responded with, “Miles… Miles Kennedy.” Figuring if he was reliant on the skeleton in front of him to get out of this alive he should at least try to be polite. (That’s how the stories about this kind of thing go right?)

The skeleton’s grin seemed to stretch. “I know, and ya got a big shadow to match with that name lad.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“That business with the fam.” The skeleton reminded him, before turning to a wall of shadows. “Now come along boy, Krimy gets cranky when he has to wait.”

“R-right.” He nodded, following as the skeleton brushed the shadows away revealing a long twisting mansion hallway that while still covered in velvet blues and grays was also coated in neon green, blue, pink and every other color.

“W-where are we?” He gasped, feeling something in his very soul dance as he could hear a lively drum beat filling the air.

“Ah, careful what questions ya ask the psychopomp, lest ya go psycho boyo.” Sammy warned him. “But to put it simply, took a shortcut to our little branch of life’s afterparty.”

“Life’s after party?” He repeated, before immediately realizing what that meant. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry, ya not seein’ anythin’ that’ll break ya mind. We ain’t the Cheshire up in here.” Sammy assured him. “This is just a little preview of what we got goin’ on our side of things, ya get?”

“Like the gates before heaven?” He guessed.

The skeleton somehow blew a raspberry without lips or a tongue. “I mean, if ya Christian? Look, just because me and J-man hung out in New Orleans, does not mean I know what he got goin’ up in his house. His da’ be cray-cray man, and I got Krimy and Nibo sittin’ cross from each other!”

He felt there were several things there that were going to give him an existential crisis later, but given how he was apparently in an afterlife… (It can wait.)

Eventually Sammy stopped him in front of a black wooden door and gave him a once over. “Okay, ya got your Saturday best on? Want to make a good impression on the boys so they give ya a bit more wiggle room on this offa business.”

He looked down at his clothes, the same white shirt and hoodie he’d been wearing before-

His mind got staticy and he sort of just stood there, until Sammy flicked his forehead.

“Careful, boyo. Ya ain’t dead, but ya still a bit young to be thinkin’ ‘bout how ya died.”

“R-right…” He nodded, before shaking his head. “I’m ready as I can be I guess.”

“Good.” Sammy patted his back. “Hopefully, they treat ya gentle like the virgin ya are.”

“Hey!”

The skeleton ignored his protest and opened the door before shoving him through.

He hit the wooden floor in a tumble, “Fucking asshole!” he spat at Sammy before noticing a load of laughter coming from in front of him as he picked himself off the ground.

Looking up he found a number of figures in black suits smoking cigars as they sat around a table covered in cups and bottles of different kinds of liquor while playing what looked like a game of poker.

Whatsmore looking around he realized he was no longer inside of a mansion but instead seemed to be on a wooden gazebo in the middle of a graveyard, the roof covered in little hanging lights.

“Boys got balls cussing you out.” One of the figures laughed as Sammy walked around the table before taking a seat directly across from Miles and next to a red haired woman in a dark dress.

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“That’s a good thing given what we goin’ be askin’ of him.” Sammy laughed, as he pulled the red haired woman half onto his lap. “Ain’t that maman Bridgette?”

“It is.” Bridgette agreed, smiling as she stuck two cigars into the skeleton’s mouth. “I’d rather he be a rude motherfucka than a little bitch ass, and he can’t be a little bitch if he cussin’ out Sammy D. That takes a pair.”

(Those names, why are they itching at my head?)

“True, true.” One of the others nodded pouring a glass of - (Wait are those peppers in that?)- liquor.

He inhaled before exhaling looking at Sammy. “You said I needed to sort out some business to get back to my body.”

“Yeah.” The skeleton nodded, his bones filling out with the flesh of a black man. “Take a seat.”

He was about to ask where given how all the seats were taken before a chair impacted the back of his legs and he was forced into a seat at the table.

“Someone deal the boy in while we talk.” Sammy ordered as everyone tossed their cards into a small pile. “What games ya know boyo?”

He didn’t really know any, but he could figure out whatever they wanted to play. “House’s choice.”

“How about blackjack then?” Sammy smiled. “Krim you deal me and the lad in.”

A man with what could only be described as the most aggressive case of resting bitch face collected the cards and shuffled them before tossing one to him and one to Sammy.

He flipped his card over and couldn’t help but blush as he saw a naked woman on it.

“Ah, look at the blushin’ virgin!” One of the others cackled, leading to the entire table laughing at him. “Heh, if he’s goin’ to be workin’ for us we goin’ be needin’ to fix that.”

“Shut up.” He glared, getting another round of laughter as he took another quick glance at the card to see it was the Eight of Spades.

Across the table Sammy sipped from a glass of rum as he showed a four of hearts. “So just to refresh everyone’s memory past the good stuff. There be some crazy stuff goin’ on in the land of the livin’ and as the dead side of our pantheon I feel we need get involved. To keep the livin’, livin’ and the dead, dead. Hit me.”

Maman Bridgette swatted Sammy’s face and he nipped at her fingers, earning a giggle from the woman even as Krim tossed him another card before turning his gaze back onto Miles.

He nodded. “Hit me.”

His second card was an eight of clubs, and Sammy’s was a three of diamonds.

“Now given some cosmic rules I won’t go over in front of the uninitiated.” Sammy offered him a toast and a ‘what can you do’ shrug. “We can’t get too hands-on in places outside our domain, which is why we need someone to act on our behalf. Hit me.”

“And since I’m dead but not really you want me to be your guy.” He realized. “Hit me.”

His third was the ace of clubs, and Sammy’s was a two of hearts, leaving them at seventeen and nine respectively.

“Well, there’s a few other factors beyond that. Namely that a couple of ya ancestors were Practitioners from our pantheon, so we’ve got a… loose claim to ya. If ya choose.” Sammy clarified. “Hit me.”

Krim tossed the other man a card before glancing at Miles who shook his head.

“Okay… and I’m guessing if I don’t take this deal I don’t get to go back to my body?” That was how this kind of thing went in most books and movies.

Sammy made a so-so gesture as he set down his new three of clubs. “If your doctors can fix ya, ya can go back but given how ya skull is cracked… I’d say they’re a losing hand, but ya can bet on them. Hit me.”

“But you’ll guarantee I can go home.” He figured as Sammy got an ace of hearts leaving the man -(god?)- at thirteen.

“Yep. Hit me.” Sammy frowned at his cards, something that didn’t fade as he got another two. “What’s with cards Krim, ya cheatin’ me man? Hopin’ to win the boyo’s fava?”

“Nah, ya luck is just fuckin’ shit like ya taste in booze.” Krim scoffed, taking a heavy gulp of what looked like wine.

“Hey, hey!” Sammy pointed a finger at Krim. “Ya can badmouth me but don’t bad mouth me liquor brotha.”

“Nah, nah, Krim’s got a point.” Another sophisticated looking man argued. “I’m sorry to say rum is piss. It’s not even brandy, scotch, or anythin’ worth drinkin’. Wouldn’t clean my toilet with it!”

“Gah, ya hear these crazy fuckas?!” Sammy scoffed with a disappointed shake of his head as he reached for his glass only to find Bridgette had stolen it. “Wha why ya got to do me dirty like tha’ bridge?”

“You were yappin’ instead of drinkin’.” Bridgette answered as if that explained everything. And given the nods from some of the others at the table it did.

“Hey, um, what would I be expected to do?” He cut in, not sure how he was feeling about working for people who behaved like this. “If I worked for you I mean?”

“Eh, like I said, mostly to keep the livin’, livin’ and the dead, dead.” Sammy shrugged. “Though we be startin’ ya off small so ya be workin’ for one of the boys here directly, but I’ll let ya choose who ya work with since we need ya choice and everythin’. Hit me.”

“Alright, and uh, I’m sorry I don't actually know your pantheon all that well.” He was still trying to figure out which pantheon behaved like this.

Sammy shook his head in disappointment, both at the ace he’d gotten and at Miles. “What ya daddy be teachin’ ya lad?” With a put upon sigh the man pointed to the figure closest to Miles. “Well, introduce ya self!”

The sophisticated looking man nodded. “Very well. I’m Baron Brav Cimetière-Gede, guardian of the graveyard. My job and yours if ya help me would be protecting both the living and the dead and then helping them move on. My domains are of course, death, protection, boundaries, and cemeteries. And I must say it is a pleasure to meet ya young Miles.”

(He seems like a nice enough guy.) And given how he was all about protection there wouldn’t be too much he’d get in trouble for helping with.

On the other side a man he honestly hadn’t noticed gave him a nod. “The name’s Baron Bábáco La Croix-Gede, I’m probably the least famous of the fam but I dabble a bit between our jobs, supportin’ whoever needs it without bein’ the best at it. My domains are a little spread but weaker than the rest.”

(So I’d be helping everyone but he’d be in charge of me instead of the guy whose job it actually is.) It felt like a way of getting a lot more work on his table but he might also might be able to half ass some of it. (If I’m willing to risk it when dealing with death gods.)

The angry man who had been dealing them grunted as he tossed Sammy another card. “Baron Kriminel Gede. The first murderer of our pantheon, and patron of vengeance, judgement, and criminals. Work for me and we’ll hunt down the monsters out there and make ‘em pay.”

(Not sure if that’s something I want to get involved in…)

Krim gave half a chuckle as if he could read Miles’s mind (who knows maybe he can.) “Believe it not I’m the nicest boss, as long as ya make them pay I won’t tell ya how. Though I will tell ya all the crimes everyone’s got on their records, free of charge.”

“Oi, none o’ that.” The figure across from Krim -an effeminate looking man- glared. “No tryin’ to bribe the boy.”

The two stared each other down for a moment, Krim with a cruel smile and the other with an untrusting gaze. Meanwhile none of the others were saying anything as if they were more than used to the two not getting along.

Eventually the effeminate man shook his head and gave Miles a smile. “Sorry about that. Nibo Gede, first soul to be murdered.”

He couldn’t help but grimace as he put two and two together, about why these two didn’t get along. (This pantheon’s Cain and Abel I’m guessing…)

“Bribery is wrong but poisonin’ the well ain’t?” Kriminel scoffed.

Nibo ignored the other man. “I’m a healer and I represent those who died and were never found. Our work would be healin’ the sick and helpin’ find the lost so they can be put to rest. Also I’d prefer it if we… avoided conflict if we can.”

(So would I.) Honestly, Nibo seemed like the nicest of the bunch to work for thus far.

“Oi, don’t forget the world’s gone crazy.” Sammy interrupted without looking up from his cards. “Might not be able to avoid fightin’. Think carefully about who ya want to work for, this is an important decision… just like whether you signin’ up or not, or even more important whether ya hit or fold.”

Sammy tossed his remaining cards on the table, revealing a total of eighteen beating Miles by one while also claiming most of the cards under four in value. (I think that’s like… a one in ten chance of me beating him with the remaining cards…)

“It’s not like I have a choice, I’ll work for you guys.” He sighed, knowing there wasn’t a situation where he’d force his family to go through another funeral. (Not after dad’s…)

“And ya cards?” Sammy asked as if it was the most important thing at the moment.

He was probably going to bust but, (fuck it.) “Hit me.”

Krim tossed him another card, more specifically the ace of spades, tying him with Sammy.

All eyes on the table watched him as once more he decided, “Fuck it. Hit me.”

Krim tossed him one last card face down, and he flipped it over to reveal the two of hearts sending the table into chaos.

“That is fuckin’ bullshit!” Sammy yelled before turning on Kriminel. “Ya did not shuffle that deck right!”

“Ya callin’ me a fuckin’ liar?!”

“I’m callin’ ya a motherfuckin’ criminal!”

Suddenly Maman Bridgette started to laugh.

Sammy frowned at his lover. “What's so funny, cherie?”

“Look at the boy’s cards.” Bridgette smiled.

The various barons did and when they did one by one they all started laughing at a joke he didn’t understand even Sammy.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, more than a little wary of the madness surrounding him.

Sammy shook his head and gave Miles an amused look. “Kid, ya just beat me, me Baron Samedi Gede, Father of the Gede, Iwa of Death herself, with the deadman’s hand!”

“Oh…”