Vell Harlan and the Doomsday Dorms

In the darkened halls of the library, the book shifted, coming loose from the shelves that held it. With a dull thud, it fell to the floor and cracked open, falling with its pages upturned. The aged brown pages turned as if shifting in an unseen breeze. Faded ink, exposed to light for the first time in centuries, began to take on an unusual glow.

“At last,” a voice spoke from nowhere. The light in the ink began to flare, as thin smoke rose from between the pages of the book. “After ten thousand years, I am free…”

A grasping hand, with thick grey skin and clawed fingertips, rose from the pages of the book -and was immediately stomped on by a bright red sneaker.

“Shut it, Rita Repulsa!”

Harley stomped on the hand again, pounding the demonic appendage back into the pages of the book it had emerged from. Confused, pained grunting emanated from nowhere and everywhere at once as Harley stomped the demon down.

“Get! Back! In! The book,” she commanded, punctuating each word with another stomp. When the last finger of the abyssal grasp had been successfully kicked back into the ink from which it crawled, Harley reached down and slammed the book shut.

“Hah! Eat it, Gamigin,” Harley said, declaring her triumph over the demon. She looked to Lee, who’d been watching her demon-stomping in silence thus far, and gave a thumbs up. Lee returned the gesture.

“Excellent work as usual, Harley,” Lee said. Harley beamed at the compliment while Lee examined the book Harley still held. “I believe we should put more effort into securing the book, however.”

“Oh yeah, I got this,” Harley said.

She pulled an elastic hair-tie off of her ponytail and stretched it around the book, clasping it shut. Harley shook her newly-loosened hair behind her ears and then examined her work, holding it up for Lee’s approval.

“Yes, I believe that ought to keep it secure,” she said. She knew from a firsthand experience involving a ten-story tall Jenga game that Harley’s hair-ties were nigh invulnerable.

Harley put the book under her arm again and walked out between the rows of shelves. She grabbed Lee and left the library, regrouping with Vell and Leanne.

“Found it,” she boasted. She held the demonic tome aloft triumphantly before tossing it to Leanne. “Get rid of this.”

Without turning her head, Leanne tossed the book over her shoulder, in the direction of the ocean. Vell watched it sail through the air -as did several dozen students whose heads it passed over. Harley checked her phone and answered a text as Vell watched the book sail in a straight line through the air, spinning like a frisbee as it hurtled towards the ocean. Eventually, the absurd force that propelled it began to fade, and the book drifted lower and lower towards the waves. The book was barely visible as a speck on the horizon by the time it made impact, the ancient pages and the demons contained within vanishing into the ocean with a soft “plip”.

“Nice throw,” Vell said. Leanne nodded.

“And that, I believe, will prevent Gamigin from being summoned once again,” Lee said.

“Fuck him,” Harley said. “At least Gremory has the decency to have an orgy before he rips everyone’s souls out.”

Vell cringed at the mention of getting his soul ripped out. Harley had given him an extensive description of how it would feel, but the advance warning had done nothing to dull the pain. Lee took notice of his discomfort and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“I know that was all highly unpleasant, dear, but soul-related incidents are thankfully rare,” Lee assured him. “By the time the next one comes around, you’ll be more used to death.”

“Well, uh, I’m not really sure I’ll ever get used to it,” Vell said.

“Oh you will,” Harley told him -again. Vell shrugged.

“Yeah? How long’s that going to take?” Vell asked. “How many times do you have to die before you get used to it?”

“Five,” Harley said.

“Yes, five times,” Lee said.

Leanne held up five fingers and nodded. Vell stared at the three of them for a while.

“Five times?”

“Yep, thats what all three of us just said. Or gestured, in Leanne’s case,” Harley said, pointing at Leanne.

“That seems, um, low,” Vell said.

“Well, most people only die the one time, so I see it as being rather high,” Lee said.

“Yeah, that makes sense, actually,” Vell admitted.

“Only a couple more times and you’ll be able to laugh about it just like the rest of us,” Harley assured him. “I’ve got some real funny stories to tell you about all the ways I’ve been horribly dismembered. Like the time my entire left half got disintegrated.”

Vell stared directly into Harley’s soul.

“If you make an ‘all right’ pun, I’m leaving.”

Thirteen seconds later, Vell left.