Read Online Solomon's Sieve by Victoria Danann - Free Book Online

smile, and a shake of the head. “What would you like to wear? Never mind. Just think about your preference.”
    Before Sol could ponder the bizarre instruction, he had, in fact, formed an image in his mind of what he would like to be wearing – his favorite old jeans that had been washed so many times they were buttery soft, the ones with a hole in the knee for character, a plain white tee shirt, and coffee-brown Ropers. He knew the instant his clothes had changed because he no longer felt grass between his toes, no longer felt a breeze ruffling his, um, skirt, and he did feel the familiar comfort and security of having his package supported. Even though he knew what he’d find, he looked down for confirmation.
    Yes. Those were his favorite weekend jeans and his broken-in boots. He passed a large hand over his chest and abdomen reveling in the feel of the tee that covered his upper body. To his mind there was nothing better than the freshness and classlessness of a plain white, soft fresh cotton tee.
    He didn’t understand how physics worked in hel, if that’s where he was, but he did understand saying thank you to someone when they did you a good turn. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” The guy nodded once. “I assume you have something to say? Would you like to stand, sit, walk?” Ragnal cocked his head, tilted his chin up as he looked at Sol and said, “Never mind. I know the answer.”
    In less than a blink of an eye, Sol found himself sitting on a leather barstool in front of a well-aged oak bar, being handed his favorite long neck by a kindly-looking bartender who winked when he set it down. Sol swiveled around to take a read on his environment. Old vampire hunter habits never seem to fade away. There were only three people in the bar. Himself, the bartender, and a yet-to-be-named companion.
    “I’m Ragnal.”
    “Just Ragnal?”
    “Yes.”
    “It seems you already know my name.”
    Ragnal gave a slight nod. “What I don’t know is why you’ve been causing such a ruckus.”
    “I need to get out of here.”
    “I see. And where do you want to go?”
    “Back.”
    “Back?”
    “Yes. You know. Back to where I was before I was here.”
    “Oh.” Ragnal paused before adding, “I see.”
    The bartender walked to the end of the bar and disappeared around the corner as he slung a damp towel over his shoulder. Sol thought that was a nice realistic touch. The guy must have gone to the Elia Kazan school of acting.
    Ragnal grasped the long neck that sat in front of him. It was covered with the telltale condensation caused when glass-bottled beer is chilled in ice. “So this is your favorite, huh?” He took a sip and pursed his lips. “Hmmm. Not bad.”
    Sol looked at his own beer. He liked the way it looked sitting in front of him, but he just didn’t have a desire to reach for it. “So. About going back?”
    “Ah, yes. About that.” Ragnal looked into Sol’s face. “Just out of curiosity, can you tell me what you were doing at the moment of your death?”
    That question shouldn’t have come as a shock to Sol. He’d put it together shortly after arrival… that he must have died. But still, having someone just say it out loud like that made him feel funny. Inconsequential somehow. He heaved a big sigh even though he’d also discovered shortly after arriving that inhaling and exhaling were purely optional.
    “So I really am, uh, dead.”
    “Let’s not play games, Solomon. You know you’ve moved on to another phase in the process.”
    “Sol.”
    “What?”
    “If you’re going to call me by my first name, call me Sol.”
    “All right. Sol. What were you thinking at the very last?”
    Sol looked down at the bar, looked at the beer, then looked at his hands. “I was thinking that I couldn’t check out because too much depended on me. I was thinking that, if it turned out there was an after-existence that was supposed to make me happy, I would have to convince somebody that the only thing